#but also reblogs are allowed if you like!!

[elkian]

Truly the pissing on the poor-ass website. The point isn't "tell me about good alt-meat varients!" it's "for the love of peace don't lie to people about what's in their food".

Because, best-case, you've done something unethical and really fucking creepy and given them a good reason not to trust you.

Worst case, you fucking kill them.

“Meatless alternatives are getting so good, you should try them! I bet you wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference! In fact….”

Please

Please

Please stop trying to sneak-feed me meat alternatives.

I am willing to prepare and share a vegan meal with you, I’m willing to skip animal products in our group spaces.

Please.

Stop trying to sneak-feed me meat alternatives.

[navybrat817]

Cooking Together

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky asks you to cook a meal with him.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Fluff, longing, pining, canon divergent neighbor AU, flirting of sorts, mention of HYDRA, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Short and sweet for @stellar-solar-flare’s Starry Winter Sky Event! I went with cooking together and Neighbor AU as a small expansion of this nonsense. February has had some lingering January energy, and I hope you enjoy what I was able to write! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

If you asked Bucky if he thought he was a good cook, he’d say he was decent. He retained some of what his mom taught him many years ago and he carefully followed recipes once he was completely free of HYDRA. It was admittedly a bit of a rough go at first. Being able to choose what he could eat was a foreign concept after he didn't have the choice for so long. It got better each day. Every single meal he got to reclaim a piece of himself by making the choice of what he did and didn’t want.

Until today, he always cooked alone.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” you smiled, graciously accepting the apron he handed you.

Bucky had moved into the building a few months ago and you lived across the hall. As far as neighbors went, you were the best. Since day one, you always greeted him with a smile and a kind word. You never played your music too loud or disturbed anyone. Alpine adored you, which told him everything he needed to know since she was the best judge of character. And you never once objected to looking out for her when he had to leave for a mission.

Out of paranoia, he left harmless little “traps” to see if you'd snoop through anything the very first time you went over. Nothing that would hurt you or draw your attention, of course, but something that would let him know if anyone tampered with anything. You didn't. You were a genuinely good and respectful person, and that made him trust you more.

“Thanks for accepting the invitation. And allow me,” he offered, stepping behind you to help you tie it. His fingers lingered on the fabric and he took the moment to inhale your sweet scent before he stepped away. He didn't want to be a creep. “And it’s the least I could do since you offered to watch Alpine. Again.”

“I love watching her. She’s wonderful.”

The photos you sent were something he always looked forward to when he was away. Some of the captions you added made him laugh and smile. His favorite was a selfie you took with Alpine’s cheek against yours. He saved it as “my girls”, which you weren’t aware of.

Because you technically weren’t his girl.

“Well, she adores you,” Bucky smiled. He adored you, too. It stunned him when he found out you were single, and he was selfishly thankful for that. 

“I’ll have to get her another toy,” you said, your lips curling in a small smile. “If that’s okay with you.”

He laughed, a warm and easy sound. “Between the two of us, she’s spoiled rotten and she wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He never expected to be a cat dad, but life surprised him. In fact, it also surprised him that Alpine wasn’t camping out nearby or brushing against one of your legs. She was a smart cat and likely somehow sensed that he wanted alone time with you.

“Well, she deserves it,” you winked before things went quiet.

One of the nice things about hanging out with you was that he didn't mind any bouts of silence. They didn’t feel awkward or tense. In those quiet moments and stolen glances he felt like he had the best conversations with you. He was happy and felt safe being in the same space as you.

“You know,” Bucky began as he set the ingredients on the counter. He lucked out by having a decent sized kitchen since he took up a lot of space. “If I was a better neighbor, I would've just cooked a meal for you while you relaxed.”

It felt romantic for the two of you to cook together, but you weren't together and now he felt like an idiot. A gentleman would've made you a meal and pampered you. Or take you out for a nice meal. He hadn’t dressed up, opting for his jeans and a trademark Henley while you wore a sundress that had his mind racing with both sweet and filthy images. He didn't have flowers for you either.

His “game”, as Sam would say, was rusty.

“You're a great neighbor, Bucky. The best neighbor I’ve had,” you defended. He tried to be a good neighbor and person. A minor way to make up for some of his forced wrongdoings. “And cooking something together is fun! We could even try something at my place next week if you'd like.”

Bucky almost knocked the salt over, his eyes wide. “Really?” You were inviting him over to do this again?

“Yeah, really,” you replied, taking a moment to scan the simple recipe in the cookbook. You always had the cutest expression when you concentrated on something, and he didn’t want to choose something too difficult for the first meal. “We can take turns picking things out to try and trade off cooking at your place and mine. You can even bring Alpine over if you want.”

He suddenly had the image of you in his arms, dancing around the kitchen as you both waited for a meal in the oven to cook. Soft music, low lighting, his hands on your hips, and a tender smile on your face. Stealing a gentle kiss and keeping his eyes open only for a moment so he could see for himself that it wasn't a dream.

“Yeah,” he breathed, pulling his hair back in a ponytail and washing his hands to distract himself from his thoughts. “I’d really like that.”

“Great,” you exhaled. His heart beat faster when he caught you staring. He liked to pretend the look in your eyes was longing. “Sorry. You just…” you cleared your throat and gestured to his head. “You have really nice hair.”

The compliment had his heart racing even faster. “I have nice hair?” he asked. Your fingers would feel amazing in his hair.

You ducked your head for a moment before you met his gaze with a soft smile. “Yeah, you do.”

“Thanks,” he smiled back, his shoulder brushing yours when he stood beside you. Electricity lightly cracked between you. Did you feel it, too? “Um, I peeled the carrots before you got here. Would you like to cut them?”

“Oh, I think you’re better with a knife than I am,” you giggled.

He puffed his chest out and twirled the knife he selected in his hand without thinking about it. Part of him was showing off because, well, he wanted you to stare again. “How about I help you?”

“Help me? How?” you asked.

“Here.” He placed the knife in your hand and stood behind you once he had the carrots on the cutting board. “I’m going to preface this by saying I’m far from an expert, but I usually cut them into decent sized pieces before I dice them.”

“I trust your judgement,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. Your faces were close enough that he could kiss you if he leaned in a fraction. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t take what you didn’t offer.

Carefully placing his hands over yours once you faced forward, he felt that electricity crackle again as he helped guide you. He angled his hips so he didn’t press against you, but still stayed close. “See? You’re a natural,” he whispered against your ear when you made the first cut through the vegetable.

He heard the hitch in your breath and how your blood rushed faster in your veins. He felt your skin warm under his touch as you cut the next piece. He also caught the slight tremble that went through your frame when his grip tightened, but he didn’t sense any fear. He hadn't detected any sort of fear or disgust since he came into your life.

But what he sensed in this very moment was excitement.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you whispered back. The way you spoke his name was breathy, beautiful, and he longed to hear that again. “You’re a great teacher.”

“I’m not,” he said, thankful your back was to him so you wouldn’t see the pink that tinted his cheeks. “But I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, you are,” you stated, tempting him to turn your head toward him to kiss you. If he did that and you stabbed him, he wouldn’t blame you or hold it against you. “And Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“I really am glad you invited me over,” you said.

He stopped himself from putting his face in the crook of your neck. “I am, too,” he said, smiling to himself as he helped you finish up. “And now that you’ve mastered the carrots, we can chop the onions.”

“Onions? Oh, no,” you groaned playfully.

As the sound of both of you laughing a second later filled the room, Bucky was glad he went with his gut and asked for you two to cook together.

And maybe before the night was over, he’d ask you out on a date and prove to himself that his game wasn't completely hopeless.

I wonder just how he'll ask you out! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[sylus-doll]

Synopsis: Sylus has always lived a lonely life, unfamiliar with pleasant company. Being with you again is something he must get used to. He's learning how to, and so are you.

Warnings: Lowkey doesn't make sense because the author is exhausted but wanted to churn something out for you guys. Also mentions of blood. Might be a little angsty.

Author's note: I've gotten busy recently, so I won't be able to write as often. Sorry! I come bearing lowkey dependant Sylus. Comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

Throughout his life, Sylus has spent all his time alone. No one would count enemies as company, even if they do trail him and keep an eye on his every move. They were the ones who wanted to see him fall off his throne; cause and spectate his suffering. A walking target. Sure, he had Mephisto and the twins he took under his wing... But could a mechanical bird count as a friend? Or a pair of twins who work directly under him, following his commands? No, that is obedience.

Sylus did not have anyone to call his own. No one to trade secrets with or share his warmth. And in turn it has made him cold, self-reliant, for he cannot trust in another person. He had never learned how. But he takes comfort in the teachings he does know— the ones of his only love. Melodies dance in the air, a comforting tune. He attempts to hum along, taking pride in the fact that he is able to unlike the past. A respite he is allowed to have in this harsh world.

When the both of you are reunited— albeit, unknowingly on your part— Sylus is at a loss. He had thought that you, too, would remember the past just as he did. Yet you stare into his eyes with the guarded malice of a stranger. It is a gaze he should be used to by now. And he is... Just not from you. Where has his beloved's familiar softness gone? Only your fierce claws and teeth remain. Sylus does not know how to fix this. He was never taught to build relationships or tenderly lower defenses with the patience of a saint.

Your relationship is rocky at first; like oil and water. Both of your lives are completely different from the other. With the Hunter Association actively hunting down Sylus, whatever you have with him is illegal. Forbidden. Although... Surely they would not mind if you stuck around? Gathering intel for them could be useful in the future. This is fine, you are simply using him, you are not delusional. Humans have always desired for what they cannot have.

“You're sticking around for intel on Onychinus? Well then, be my guest. Don't be shy when using me.” Sylus's sardonic smile is etched into your mind.

He tells no one that being of use to you is the only way he knows how to keep you close to him.

Be disgusted, you will yourself. Be repulsed, resent him for all he has done and will do. You will only come to regret being so entangled with his life. This is insane and you are supposed to be a good, law-abiding citizen of Linkon. A hunter. Yet you cannot help feeling like prey— engulfed by a predator who kills and comes back to you with blood soaked hands. Most times, even his own. How will you ever learn to hate someone who learned to be vulnerable with you?

Over time, you start to notice that Sylus is quite... lonely. You are the only one who checks up on him, through text or call. The only one who visits, who teases and jokes, who surprises. You, you, you. Comfortable and happy with someone so dangerous. So of course he eventually craves your presence in your absence. Sylus will make up whatever excuse, put himself in any situation, just to be able to spend some time with you. When it ends, he is distraught.

“You're abandoning me when I'm no longer useful to you? Your skill in being heartless is assuring.” His tone is teasing, as always. But his eyes hold a far-off melancholy.

It feels as though your heart has been punctured with shattered pieces of a fragile thing.

“Abandon? You're sorely mistaken. Useful or not, you're stuck with me, you have no other choice.” You reach out, grabbing his hand.

Something new for Sylus to learn; that you will not throw him away when he does not serve any purpose to you. You are his companion— his beloved who cares for and loves him. Not because you owe him or as an obligation. Simply because you do. And you are both still learning. It will be okay. Having each other means neither of you will ever have to face the cruelties of this world alone.

[sick-sad-little-world]

I'm sorry, but this feature can go straight to hell. 🖕

I am so sick and tired of seeing interesting posts that I CAN'T REBLOG. Some of them, I can't even comment on! 🤦‍♀️

Like, why are you even on this site if you don't want any interaction? Was the block feature not good enough?

Also, this site has always allowed you to make private posts invisible to the public. This useless "feature" was never necessary, and all it does is unnecessarily anger people. There's no point in having posts that can be read, but not reblogged.

If you don't like what I'm saying, feel free to block me.

Introducing: Reblog Controls

This is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill—we are rolling out reblog controls across web and iOS, starting today. 

How does it work?

When drafting a post, select the settings cog in the top right corner of your post editor. From here, you can choose one of two options.

“Anyone (on Tumblr)” means just that.

“No one” means that your post cannot be reblogged by anyone, ever.

Why?

Your wish is our command. Many of you have told us this feature would give you a welcome sense of safety. If you block someone after the post was made, don’t worry—they still can’t reblog it. This change gives you control over your own posts, and so will improve your posting experience. Ultimately, better posting means a better Tumblr. And finally, don’t worry, Android users. The feature will follow on your platform soon.

That’s all, folks. Happy reblogging!

Any questions? Drop us a line on @wip or Support, and keep an eye out for the mobile rollout on @changes.

[contamination-zone]

warning im a yapper

hello ummm just wanted to say!!! i really like the dynamic you give fresh and nightmare/color with the whole “cat who goes to different houses to get fed twice” thing. nightmare and his weird cat that he has probably locked in a basement a few times. color and this guy he picked off the road because he looks weird and decided he can solve this mess. fresh does not have any strong personal feelings towards either of them.

i very much so like the comic thing where nightmare and ccino were talking about fresh and ccino thought he was a kitten cat,,, no he is not but he acts like one. “he keeps crawling on my lap” that is a grown man get him away!!!! he has a dog cage i think that he is put in sometimes for naughty behavior. he doesn’t really care because he’s allowed his gameboy though. do you think nightmare ever sprays him with water when he does something bad. and this is like a grown adult. what

maybe i just like the trope of dehumanization (bonus if with someone who’s weirdly chill with it like fresh) but whatever,,, your art!!!! it gives me life!!! i very much enjoy the pixely type style and how freak you draw fresh. he’s a fucking creature he is. something is wrong with that guy. and i love him soooo much. so creature. he’s the kind of guy to do that thing where you walk on all fours up the stairs.

AND the way you characterize him is!!!! so good!!!!!!!!! he is so fucked up and weird and terrible and manipulative!!!!!!! he takes advantage of others’ empathy and feelings because he has very little of it himself and whenever he does feel it he does not like it!!!!!!! he looks at a guy with a savior complex and goes yeah i can mentally fuck him up for the next seven months to get something cool i want. he’s just actually terrible and i love him for that.

i also!!! don’t know too much about CB but i feel that fresh’s dynamic with them (him?? i forgor) is very interesting from what i have seen!!!!!! and their shimeji is very cute i still need to download it but i like it a lot :3

OKAY UHHH BYE!!!!! I LIKE UR ART A LOT…… HAVE A GOOD DAY!!!!!! 10/10 fresh posting on your blog love him a lot he is my wife (he feels nothing towards me)

THANK YOU!!! I see you mass reblog things sometimes it makes me giggle :-]

I yammer back...

Glad you like the dynamics haha X] Fresh having very little personal feelings about people is fun and interesting to me. As someone who has trouble connecting and low empathy, its nice to depict someone like me. [Guy interacting with people who are a Lot more invested than he is ghghg]

Fresh would only accept being put in the cage because he can teleport out. Anything like that is only for the Aesthetic, which I think Nightmare would still be down for. Shove that thang into some awful little crate, as a treat. [Honestly I think Fresh would like to get in some nice dog crate with a blankie. Small hide / den thing to nap in :-]]

ALSOOOO dehumanization and freak who doesn't mind is my favorite dynamic <333. Fresh doesn't mind because... he isn't a monster? or a human? And he doesn't have a human/monster centric view of the world. Being seen as a human/monster isn't in anyway important to him, because he doesn't seen it as better/worse. He is the way he is, why does it matter?

Its like, I don't think a cat has very strong opinions on the fact it isn't a man. I also think Fresh is incredibly self-centered and when he's on a high point, sees himself as above humans/monsters. Of course he's not seen as human, he's Fresh! he's a sick-nasty parasite! way cooler. [annnddd way cooler that he gets to eat dog-treats. heck yeah!!]

Also I drew up a little thing with CB and Fresh. Its ahh, I like them a lot I just get nervous speaking about them because its suuuch a oc & canon are besttties that it makes me feel a bit cringe... I also get nervous because CB and Fresh have a very, toxic?? friendship.

Fresh is very possessive and strange about it, because this is his Only friend and he has very dysregulated emotions. Not being able to feel positive emotions often makes it so when he does, he gets very odd about it. So its a lot of... trying to keep CB to himself, at the detriment to CB's goals and ambitions. [CB is trying to track his family down, and Fresh uh. knows. where they are. and is not telling him :-)]

I dunno I think Fresh being genuinely friends with someone but also an awful person about it is like, sorely missing from the fandom landscape. He's a bad person but bad people can still form meaningful relationships and!!! I think that should be explored :-]

[They do eventually get somewhere more healthy. As in, Fresh's whole Thing is revealed, a lot of shinanigans happen, CB lives with his family and Fresh and CB reconnect and become friends again, just with like. Fresh trying actively to do "good person things" to make sure CB's family doesn't shoo him off [I ADOREEE good actions for morally ambiguous reasons!!!], and CB with the understanding that his best friend is Kinda a Freak.]

[parvulous-writings]

Coud you please do a Vi SFW?

Warnings: None!

Notes: We're returning to our roots with this one gang   My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too! If you’d like to support me more, consider reblogging! I’d appreciate it loads!!

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Vi's affection is mainly shown through physical means. An arm around your shoulders, a hand grasping for yours - all the way to cuddling and tangling herself with you on a sofa or a bed. She loves having your near to her - particularly in private. When you're alone together, she finds a way or excuse to touch you 90% of the time. In public, she's a lot more respectful of your personal space, choosing to mostly just stand nearby rather than have her hands all over you. The only time this changes is if someone who isn't herself starts getting too close to you, whether it's being flirty or threatening you. If this is the case, she makes a show of putting an arm around your waist or shoulders, making it painfully clear that you are with her.

B - Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? Where does the friendship start?)

Vi is one of those friends that can quickly become a ride or die. She is willing to do a hell of a lot for those who are near and dear to her, be that helping with heavy lifting, spending quality time, or putting someone into their place. It's more than likely that your friendship started after bumping into Vi post-street brawl. Though bristly at first, she easily warms to you, once you've shown her you're worthy of trust.

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Vi does love a cuddle; typically, when cuddling in bed she prefers being the big spoon, allowing her to encase you in her arms and give her absolute certainty that you're safe and away from harm. If you're on the sofa, though, she very much enjoys laying over you - like a big blanket of muscle.

D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking, cleaning, ect?)

Vi grew up with a rather close-knit family unit, and deep down a part of her does miss that, so she would want to settle down - even if it's not necessarily with kids or anything of that ilk. Just having a place to call home with you would be good enough for her. She can't cook particularly well; it's passable and edible, sure, but she's not usually proud of it. The same with her cleaning - sometimes she just doesn't think to do it. She was in prison through her teens - there wasn't really anything to clean, so trying to get that into her routine is.... Difficult.

E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

She would be incredibly blunt with it. She'd try to somewhat save your feelings, but I don't think she'd beat around the bush. If it's not working out, what's the point in trying to force things to keep going, even if it's just a few extra minutes? She's also not great at verbally expressing her emotions, so this just adds to her bluntness.

F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? Do they wanna get married?)   

Vi is fine with commitment as a whole; but the idea of marriage carries a heavy sense of finality to her. She's not really likely to leave you as-is, why do you need to go through the fuss and stress of getting married? For a piece of paper? In her head, something like that is a privilege - something that mainly those from Piltover get to do. If you really insist on marriage she'll oblige you, but she doesn't need a marriage to feel or be committed to you.

G - Gentle (How gentle are they both physically and emotionally?)

Vi doesn't have much trouble being gentle physically: a few careful touches here and there, cradling your face when you're having an intimate moment or holding you close when you're having a particularly stressful day. It's more the emotional side of things where she struggles a bit. Not all the time, but there are moments where she has trouble expressing herself in the way she wants to to you, or struggles in showing a more vulnerable side of herself.

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it, and what are they like?)

The most common time to get a hug from Vi is when she's saying goodbye - or that she'll see you in a little while. They're quite quick, and she makes sure to squeeze you tightly every time, as if she's trying to imprint the feel of you against her into her mind. Outside of those times you're more likely to get a cuddle than anything else.

I - I Love You (How fast do they say the “love” word?)

She's very reluctant to say it. It's not that she doesn't love you, it more that expressing that love in a verbal way makes her incredibly nervous. She does say it from time to time; birthdays, special holidays, in the dead of night where and when there's no one else that could possibly hear her. It takes her a good few years, and slow working, to start saying it when other people are around - even if they're out of earshot.

J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What are they like when jealous?)

Vi trusts you. She knows that you wouldn't leave her without saying anything, and that if anything were to happen, you'd talk to her about it. However, this doesn't stop that stab of jealousy that she feels in her chest whenever she sees someone getting too close to you for her comfort. Her first port of call is to go to you, get close and establish her boundary - usually a hand snaking around your waist and tugging you to her. Then, if the situation continues, she gets verbal - usually snapping at whoever dare try to take you from her; even if it's nothing like that.

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Vi's kisses can go one of two ways; 1 - it's a brief peck on the lips or your cheek, so quick that you end up debating with yourself if it actually happened - Vi had gone right back to whatever she had been doing before, it was like she hadn't stopped her task. 2 - It's full of heat, passion, and you are not getting away from her any time soon - leaving that kind of kiss breathless is the bare minimum. She is grabbing whatever flesh of yours she can hold, pulling and keeping you close to her. That woman is not letting you go without some major resistance - she needs you too much.

L - Little Ones (How are they around kids?)

Vi is pretty good around kids. If you're leaving kids with her for an extended period of time, you need to set some firm boundaries. Like. Make it abundantly clear what can and cannot be done with the kids - otherwise there will be chaos. Vi is very much like that aunt you can get away with almost anything around. She won't actively take you to seek out activities to break set rules, but if the kids were to break said rules by themselves? Well they've done it now, there's not a whole lot she can do, right?

M - Morning (What are mornings like with them?)

By the time you wake up, Vi is usually awake already - sometimes by several hours. She's used to rising incredibly early, and although she doesn't always physically get out of bed that early anymore, she does still spend that time doing something she finds productive. Namely watching you sleep. The reason she doesn't immediately get up is because, if you're sharing a bed with her, she usually wakes up tangled with you in some way or another. Play your cards right, and she'll spend half the morning keeping you in bed just for an excuse to hold you close - she does love herself a cuddle in bed.

N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

Most nights you have to actively try and coax Vi into bed. The means can - and kind of have to - vary, but Vi normally tries to resist for a little while. She's one of those people who tries and stays up as late as she can physically manage, as a way to try and reclaim some of her own time. When you get past your mild frustration, though, and take a more tender approach, that's when she will usually come to bed, cuddling as close as physically possible, to try and soothe herself to sleep.

O - Open (When do they open up about themselves?)

From time to time. She'll often say if something reminds her of a family member who has passed, or share a memory that's sprung to mind that she thinks you may enjoy. When it comes to genuinely being vulnerable, and sharing her deeper, harder to process emotions, she does struggle. She doesn't know what to do with all those years of pent up hurt and pain. She tries her best, but she doesn't want to end up lashing out.

P - Patience (How easily angered are they?)

In day to day life? Not particularly quick to anger; mistakes in chores or delays in the daily schedule aren't much of a big deal to her. Sure, they can be a bit annoying sometimes, but they can be fixed or accommodated. Under pressure, though, is entirely different. When stressed and pressed for, well, anything, Vi becomes snappy, harsh, and her temper has one hell of a short fuse. She doesn't get physical, but she's usually 2 seconds away from saying something that she will probably regret once she calms down.

Q - Quizzes (How much do they remember about you?)

She easily remembers some of the basic things; your favourite colour, your favourite food, the things you like in general. She's... A little bit scattered when it comes to things like your birthday, though - she oftentimes confuses it with your anniversary. She means well, she just hasn't really got the head for dates. She'll get you a gift you like on both days, though! She rarely ever forgets completely.

R - Remember (Favorite memory with you?)

The first time she opened up properly to you. You'd been together a fair while, so she took you on a walk through the Lanes, eventually winding up where you could see the few remaining markers of her younger siblings. The splodges of red paint left behind by Mylo, the place where Claggor had gotten himself stuck when on the run from enforcers. She even told you of when she had brought Jinx - Powder, back then - to this very spot in an attempt to lift her spirits. She told you of her birth mother and father, of Vander, and how her family life had just gone progressively more and more downhill - and you listened. You didn't butt in, you didn't try and force her to see 'the bright side'. You sat, you held her hand, and you listened. There are no words that she can use to describe her gratitude to you for that moment.

S - Security (How protective are they?)

Quite - Vi often worries about how you might need to defend yourselves or escape a situation. It's not because she doesn't trust you to handle yourself - she does, she thinks you could talk down or weasel out of any situation, and she knows you'll bolt if you really need to - but it is something she worries about a lot, and something that does frequently come up if there's a disagreement.

T - Try (How much effort do they put in?)

Vi tries quite a bit. In her eyes, you deserve more, so she does try. She'll try and keep the place tidy-ish - tidy to her standards, anyway - and do some cooking every now and again. She tries much more in ways of gifts, though - though perhaps not always what you think they may be, she always makes an effort to point out how useful it could be to you, or if it's something more sentimental, how it made her think of you.

U - Ugly (What are their bad habits?)

She puts her shoes on furniture - whether she's still wearing them or has just taken them off. It gets mud and dirt everywhere. She also tends to forget to put dishes away once you've washed them up (she also forgets to wash them up fairly frequently).

V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not a whole lot - she works out quite a lot, but that's more for her own health and strength. She keeps herself as clean as she can - washing her face, bating etcetera, but other than that, not a whole lot. She sometimes has the urge to change her hair, but that's more of an emotionally motivated decision. All in all, so long as you think that she looks good, she's more than happy with her appearance.

W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

You're ingrained into her routine now - she'd definitely feel your absence if you were gone for any length of time; she doesn't like when you're not there in the morning to hold or to greet when she wakes up. Even if it's not a full separation, and you're just out somewhere for the night, she feels it deep in her.

X - Xtra (Random HC)

She loves when you touch her - not necessarily in a sexual way, or even in hugs, but the feeling of your hands on her brings her much joy and comfort. You tracing the planes of her skin or the ink of her tattoos is one of her favourite ways to wind down, and having your fingers brush through her hair (especially when they brush against her undercut)? Pure. Heaven. Simple as. If she's having a really bad day, that is a surefire way to cheer her up.

Y - Yuck (Things they don’t like either in general or a partner?)

Someone who doesn't stick to their word, or to their morals. She loves seeing reliability and someone being steadfast; if she doesn't see that, she doesn't feel like she can wholly trust someone. And of course, without trust, there can be no real love. Other than that, if she can get a good connection with someone, everyone's fair game, really.

Z - Zzz (Sleep habits)  

Vi only sleeps the minimal amount that she needs to to keep her true self or be able to perform tasks. She finds it incredibly difficult to get to sleep without being thoroughly exhausted first; so part of the coaxing that you have to do involves working out - a good, reliable way to tire her out. She also doesn't need a lot in terms of possessions; so long as she has somewhere to lay, she's able to get some sleep. Though, on the odd occasion that she does try to sleep on the floor, you're eventually able to drag her groggy self into your shared bed, mostly with promises of affection and cuddles.

[cometconmain]

Wired is paid subscription only but I found someone on Reddit who posted the full text for everyone. (Sorry to anyone with screen readers, this is A LOT to type on my phone. I'll come back later to add it in when I have access to my computer.)

Here are some other articles I've found talking about it as well.

https://www.reuters.com/world/us/young-techies-underpin-musks-drive-slash-size-us-government-2025-02-05/

“I’ve been furloughed, I guess?” said one contractor with 15 years of experience for the bureau for humanitarian assistance, where she had helped coordinate urgent responses in Ukraine, Gaza, Somalia and Latin America. “I don’t know what my status is but I don’t think I work here right now.” By Monday, Kliger wrote an email to all staff at 12.42am to tell them not to bother coming into the building that day.

The incident has illustrated how Doge employees with Musk’s backing were able to override USAid leadership and bypass government procedures for accessing restricted areas with classified materials, fueling criticism that his agency is a national security risk.

“Did Secretary Rubio allow this kind of access by Musk’s employees?” asked Kim. “It worries me about USAid but if it’s happening here, I’m guessing it’s probably happening at all these other national security agencies.”

Formally, Rubio has delegated responsibility to Marocco, who has been pressed by congressional staffers to give details of the changes affecting USAid and the $40bn in foreign aid it manages each year. “The question at hand is: who’s in charge of the state department?” Senator Brian Schatz told the Guardian. “So far the answer has been Pete Marocco.”

Doge did not respond to questions about what security clearances, if any, the engineers held. “No classified material was accessed without proper security clearances,” wrote Katie Miller, a Doge spokesperson, on social media. But Scifs are regulated by a strict protocol and it is unclear who could have verified the Doge employees’ credentials and filed the necessary paperwork to allow them to enter.

Inside the building, staffers said that Doge cultivated a culture of fear. “It’s an extreme version of ‘who do you trust, when and how?’” said Kristina Drye, a speechwriter at the agency, who watched dozens of senior colleagues escorted out of the building by security. “It felt like the Soviet stories that one day someone is beside you and the next day they’re not.” People started meeting for coffee blocks away because “they didn’t feel safe in the coffee shops here to even talk about what’s going on”, she added. “I was in the elevator one morning and there was an older lady standing beside me and she had glasses on and I could see tears coming down under her glasses and before she got off her elevator she took her glasses off, wiped her eyes, and walked out,” she said. “Because if they see you crying, they know where you stand.”

(Btw I want to make it very clear I'm reblogging this because it's just their names and I'm not aware of or intending to support any address sharing because that would be doxxing which is unacceptable behaviour, especially when we want to make a world where collecting, sharing and using someone's personal data without their consent at all let alone to harm them is unacceptable behaviour. Their names are apparently easily seen on their own social media profiles as of this date, so it looks like their names are not currently private information. Their families also don't deserve to be harassed or attacked for these peoples' behaviour, so I don't support that either.)

These men just stole the personal information of everyone in America AND control the Treasury. Link to article.

Akash Bobba

Edward Coristine

Luke Farritor

Gautier Cole Killian

Gavin Kliger

Ethan Shaotran

Spread their names!

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Chapter 16

  1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   12   13   14   15

Arranged marriage AU

Interact with this linked post to be added to the tag list.

Entire chapter is Dion’s/Ash’s POV, takes place during the day of chapter 14 during the beginning scene of when Dion and Reader share a moment that is not nice in her mind. He is also out of character again lmao

Edit: LMAO I FUCKED UP THE TITLE OF MY OWN FIC. can you tell I wrote this entire thing in one setting while very tired? God now I need to check the other chapters lol

NOTE: Dion is having a very small crisis towards the end. Also, I do not know how to write fight scenes. I’m also getting kind of tired of saying ‘male’. Also two chapters within two days!? I'm on a roll baby! (I will proceed to not update for at least a week since life gets in the way/motivation/ideas won't come to me)

Warnings: slight yandere themes, themes of obsessive and possessive behavior/thoughts, toxic marriage/relationship, murder, blood, threats of injury/murder, slight torture (probably?), mention of divorce (it almost does not end well, rip Ash lol), Dion accidentally gets hurt (it’s his own fault), attempted murder, mention of past murder, implied murder (I think?), implied threats of injury, thoughts of imprisoning the reader at the end but he decides against it, implied stalking, HEAVY VIOLENCE Dion’s actions are toxic no matter how you look at it. Please tell me if I missed any.

NSFW-ISH WARNINGS:  (NO SEXUAL ACTIVITY ACTUALLY TAKES PLACE) suggestive, implied vaginal pain (I think), throw back to their first time, implied perverted thoughts (Dion), Lant once again being a pos, encouraging Dion to force himself on the Reader, implied/mentioned past sexual activities, implied past Dub-con. Please tell me if I missed any.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANIZED AS THEY ARE EXTREMELY DANGEROUS AND TOXIC.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS, BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT WITH OR REBLOG FANDOM RELATED THINGS (FICS, ART, ETC.) DNI

“How's married life?” 

Boredom fills the voice of the redhead doctor as he dabs a cotton ball on the patient’s wound, crimson soaking into the fluffy white cotton. Once done treating it, he starts to wrap it up a little too tight, irritated that a certain Agriche got distracted, slipped down a slope full of sharp rocks and thus, sliced his arm open. So unlike him and yet, he still saw it coming from miles away.

God forbid if anyone in this hunting party listens.

“... why are you asking?” Dion questions back, narrowing his eyes, glaring daggers into the very doctor who’s treating his wounds. Still, it’s not like Ash would harm any of his patients, as he was well above that. Even with someone like him.

However, Dion Agriche often challenges his views and morals. He had always thought of the second eldest as a fool - however, ever since he got engaged to you, he became more so of one. While smart and talented in many areas - hunting, sword fighting, ballroom dancing, leading hunting parties for both monsters and animals alike, maybe a musical instrument or two if memory serves correct, and of course, assassinting - by the Gods, is his personality a nasty one.

“Am I not allowed to? After seeing the mess she was after your first night… I worry for her. Poor girl probably lost faith in God the moment she saw your face.” Ash bites back, tying the bandage up and securing it with pins before patting it down hard. He holds back a smile when THE Dion Agriche flinches at the pain.

It doesn’t matter if it was physical or emotional - pain is pain. Although, it would be better if it was both, finally hitting his employer where it hurts the most. But Dion always bites back.

“You’re rather mouthy for someone I could cut down easily.” Dion's threat is empty, but the urge to throttle the doctor remains. While he wouldn’t kill the man, putting him in a full body cast would settle some things.

Ash only sighs with a shake of his head. Gesturing your husband to put his shirt and black arm sleeves back on, the redhead starts to clean and put his medical supplies away. Currently, the two of them are alone in a tent that was hastily set up, the rest of the hunting party members outside eating dinner. The sun had barely set.

“Come now, I even tended to the poor girl as a free favor. Surely, answering a question or two isn’t that hard - consider it payment for that black eye I left with.”

“And I’ll leave another one on the other eye.”

“... why must you always be so violent? It’s clear that your wife isn’t fond of violence - much less you.” He hits where it hurts, patting the ‘poor’ man’s shoulder as he buttons up his uniform shirt. He watches with great interest when the black haired noble stiffens before resuming his task.

‘So, it’s not going all that great…’

“I mean, it’s only natural for me to ask, taking the fact you personally invited me to the wedding into account.” Ash continues to dig for answers, enjoying the way his scarlet hues become hollow and unfocused. Had he been a better man, the doctor would have pity the newly wed noble some more. 

But Dion Agriche is nowhere close to even a decent person.  

“It’s…,” his low and tired voice trails off before he stands and straightens his clothes out, “fine. Nothing for you to worry about.” A lie paired with another lie. How unlike him. 

“Hm. Sure.” 

Dion leaves the tent without another word, leaving the doctor behind.

As soon as he steps out, one of his men rushes over to him. Dion's mood only sours more, not wanting to interact with anyone just yet.

“Sir, we haven’t found any traces of the monsters. The entire area is empty.” The jet black haired noble can’t stop a brow from raising. 

The brunette delivers the news in a hurry, out of breath. Your husband notices the way he tries to keep his voice down, eyeing everyone behind him. Weird. 

Closer inspection revealed the dirt on his boots and leaves in his hair. But towards the chest, there’s a speck of red on the purple accents that’s barely hidden away by the cloak. 

It’s even slightly damp. His sleeves look a bit too short as well. The gloves don’t look right, not fitting the fingers, slightly sliding off with each gesture of his hands. Scarlet eyes zone in on them before returning to the soldier’s face.

The hair looks a bit lighter. The eyes are a bit deeper.

“How far did you go?” Dion asks as he comes back down to earth.

“Oh!” The soldier straightens up before going on to tell him the details. Your husband listens with little interest, already looking at the area from where the soldier just came from. And then, he glances around the camp, eyes landing on each person once. Once he’s done with relaying the information, Dion walks past him. 

The brunette follows. “Is something the matter, sir?” He follows until the chatter of the camp becomes distant. He runs into Dion’s sturdy back as the man comes to an abrupt stop. Gently rubbing his nose, the shorter man backs up.

“I must admit you have guts.” Dion’s voice is low, mockery laced in it despite ‘praising’ him. 

“...huh?” 

In a flash, his gloved hand slams the other man’s neck against a tree trunk. The bark bites into the exposed skin of his neck while his face turns red. Gasping for breath, the man makes a futile attempt to claw at Dion’s gloved hand.

His legs kick and kick, but it does little to help. Scarlet eyes stare at him emotionless, and the sight of the glowing orbs sends chills down his spine. “It’s amusing how you thought you could replace one of my men.” He chuckles low and deep, increasing the pressure on the poor man’s neck.

“But I have memorized each and every one of their traits - from their eye color to the way they even walk. Not to mention I didn’t order them to look for any monsters in the near vicinity.”   

The black haired man considers snapping his neck right at this moment. But his actions are halted when he hears a twig snap under someone’s foot.

He scowls once the familiar voice reaches his ears. His eyes narrow at how annoying the new addition sounds.

“Is this really necessary? How about we find out what happened to the victim before killing the perpetrator,” Ash advises as he gets closer. He stops once he’s two feet away from the now angered man.

Close to being enraged but not yet, irked that one fool thought he was stupid while the other had just interrupted his actions.

“Dion.” Ash tries again. “Ask questions first. You can do whatever with him later, after we get answers.” 

A hiss of annoyance and Dion drops the man. While he’s coughing for breath, with his boot Dion delivers a hard kick to the imposter’s stomach that has him wheezing for breath. Ash sighs in exasperation at the scene unfolding before him. 

‘Once a brute, always a brute.’

“Talk. Maybe I’ll be merciful depending on your answers.” 

“Arg! W-wait, fuck, wait!” He raises his hands as he surrounders. “I’m not the one who killed him - I was just given the uniform. Honest!”

The two standing men share a look.

“Regardless of who killed him, didn’t you at least consider that maybe everyone would notice you weren’t originally part of the party?” Ash squats to the enemy’s height, observing the hand mark that now decorates his neck. “Unless you’re an idiot.” 

“I wa-wasn’t supposed to get too close to the others… just to lure you away.” He stares up at your husband the entire time while clutching at his stomach. Saliva drips from his mouth as he shakes. He looks more pathetic than a terrified dog.

“How far? I’m assuming just a bit further away from here.” The Agriche continues the integration. His head tilts when the idiotic imposter nods. 

Ash looks up at him. “Should we call for reinforcements? It’s probably not a good idea for you to go alone.”

“I’m not alone. I have you.”

“...huh?”

- - -

Against his own will, Ash follows close behind the prisoner and warden. His arms are wrapped around himself as a cold breeze starts to pick up. His long red hair sways in the wind as Dion’s hood flops back due to the direction of the sudden wind.

“I’m not a fighter, you know this.”

“Right.”

“I’m a doctor - I help the wounded, I don’t give injuries. I don’t even have the training of a swordsman - unlike you.” Ash continues to complain, wanting nothing more than to kick your husband straight in the ass. 

“Right.” Dion’s one word replies are dismissive - the doctor doubts he’s listening at all. 

All the while the brunette is being dragged by the collar. He only listens in silence as the two assumed co-workers or something of that sort have a one sided argument or conversation. He can’t tell what it was. 

“You have like what, thirty men?”

“Thirty five.” He takes a pause before correcting himself. “Well, now it’s thirty four.”

“Thirty four? And you choose me, a weak and mild doctor -”

“More like an annoying one,” Dion cuts in, starting to regret bringing Ash along. He forgot how… yappy he can be. Even with the amount of money he pays him, he always has something to complain about. 

“... If your wife ever divorces you, I’ll help her in every way I -”

SNAP

Twigs break in half under your husband’s feet, the prisoner choking as the taller man turns on his feet so quickly it gives him whiplash. Ash immediately shuts his mouth as shadows start to cover the sharp features of Dion’s face. His eyes glow in the moonlight. His scarlet eyes are narrowed, filled with unsaid threats, glare so sharp it cuts into his very soul. 

The redhead takes a step back as his employer towers over him. He breaks out into a cold sweat, the forest having become silent - like every animal in the vicinity sensed the bloodlust of this obsessed man and went into hiding. 

It feels like death itself is breathing down his back, his stomach twisting and turning painfully. His mouth becomes dry, and he can hear every breath Dion takes. So, this is what it feels like, to be on the sharp side of Dion’s blade.

He gulps, Adam's apple bobbing. The air becomes suffocating. 

“... it was a joke.” Ash says slowly, unable to look away from the grim reaper. A quick glance to his hands shows that they are both tightly clenched. The enemy is shivering in fear as well, worried for his own safety.

One wrong move and he’ll lose his head, it doesn’t matter if he wasn’t involved with the conversation. The fact he’s here at all spells out his doom.

This rage was different from the one that was directed towards him. He doesn’t know who the wife - you are, but at the mention of divorce, Dion became a different man. A worse man.

Did you mean that much to him? Or was it a pride thing?

“...A joke? I didn’t realize my marriage was a joke to you.” Husky and deep, your husband’s voice sends chills down the other two spines. Each step carries weight and the poor man dragged along regrets ever taking the job. 

“No, I don’t think your marriage is a joke… I’m sure she’ll open up to you. Eventually. Just a bit.” Trying to soothe the pissed man proves to be futile.

Ash doesn’t understand why Dion was so smitten with you. You were strangers prior to the engagement - only shared a space in the ballroom without interacting with each other. However, one memory that will never be erased from his mind was when the then nineteen-year-old had pointed at you with his red eyes and declared to the doctor he would marry you during a ball that took place a year ago.

Right after you and the Agriche accidentally locked eyes.

Ash always knew he was mental. Just not to this degree. 

“Listen, I’m sorry; I overstepped. Let’s just get this done - the faster we finish the faster you can return home. Maybe not into her arms, but at least you’ll see and hear her voice. Right?”

At the mention of that, the murderous man calms a little, but the looming threat of being cut down is still in the air. In the moonlight, your husband looks imposing, his red eyes glow as his short black hair moves along with the wind - all he’s missing is the scythe, standing tall and oh so close to putting his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Ash slowly lowers his hands when Dion sneers at him one last time and turns his back. Tension still in the air and in everyone’s body, they continue the walk. Each step is on the verge of being heavy, but caution prevents them from dragging their feet. The captive was soon thrown over Dion’s shoulder, the sound of dragging getting on his nerves while Ash brought up the amount of noise it made. 

The captive and Ash stare at each other in silence. He almost feels bad for the man, but the doctor quickly reminds himself that he was his employer’s enemy - if he pities him he might cave in and help. But helping would mean that Dion would cut his pay, assuming he doesn’t put him six feet under. 

Or both.

“... we’ve been walking for a bit now. Maybe you should turn around to let the man get a view. We might have taken a wrong turn.” The doctor suggests as Dion hums, considering it. He halts and drops the man who lands face first on the ground. Dirt gets in his eyes, groaning in pain as he rubs it out. 

“If you try to run I’ll cut your legs off.”

“And this is why you don’t have any friends.”

The captive listens in confusion, baffled that there’s someone who can shit talk the infamous Dion Agriche and live. A pause and he stands to his full height, a head shorter than your husband. Dusting himself off, he quivers under Dion’s sharp gaze. His voice cracks as he looks around before giving them directions. 

Or at least, attempts to. 

Swoosh 

Thud!

“Wha!?” Ash backs away as an arrow impales the imposter’s head. He falls to the ground immediately, eyes becoming lifeless. Blood pools underneath his head as some drips down his face. Dion whips his head to the right, where the arrow came from. 

Swoosh

Before it can hit him, Dion catches the arrow with his hand after rushing in to save Ash. He snaps it in two easily. The forest becomes quiet. Both men look to the right, but sense nothing. 

The Agriche feels a hit to his pride once he realizes that he had just lost his prey. His scowl deepens, and Ash squats to investigate the dead body that lays on the cold ground. 

Gently, he lifts the head, getting a good look at the fatal wound. Upon closer inspection, the head of the arrow was dipped in a purple liquid - most likely poison. He glances at the man standing behind him, but quickly returns his attention to the corpse. 

‘Not that it matters if he got hit… he’s immune to most if not all poisons. Oh, but what if he’s not immune to this one?’

The doctor mentally questions as he looks over his shoulder again. Only to be met with the sight of Dion licking the arrow head, tasting the possible poisonous liquid without a second thought. Ash blinks blankly.

‘Are all Agriches like this?’

“It’s poison -” the black haired man starts before he gets interrupted, holding the urge to throttle his employee back. It’s so tempting.

“Obviously -”

“- that’s made from Mellow light*” He finishes while he glowers at Ash. “How unfortunate. Had I known it was drenched in it I would have let it hit you.” A crooked smile plays on his lips as the redhead furrows his brows at the younger man's ‘teasing’. 

“Ha ha. That’s enough from you - what do you want to do with the body?” He looks at the corpse next to him. “Should we burn it? Or bury it?” 

“We’ll bring it with us.” Answer your husband. Without another word, he grabs the corpse by the collar of the shirt and drags it alongside him. “It’d be interesting to see their reactions.” 

Ash stays quiet. 

- - -

“Where’s the doctor and the young master?” 

“I saw them heading that way…”

“Were we abandoned?” 

“Do you honestly think they would do that? Master Lant would have a field day if the young master just up and left. Even if he’s the favorite, he wouldn’t be able to get away with doing such a thing.” 

Chatter fills the air as the soldiers scratch their heads. Stars twinkle in the night sky, and yet despite the pretty sight, only tension is present. Everyone is tense as some look around them to make sure nothing or no-one surrounds them.

“Actually,” one young man starts after he looks around, “where’s Adam? I haven’t seen him since we got back.” 

“Maybe the young master disposed of him.” One says casually.  

“Or he was eaten by a monster and that’s why the other two left - to investigate. It’s normal for them not to say anything sometimes.” Another man offers up, scratching his head despite the implication that their fellow soldier is dead somewhere.

It’s a normal occurrence they’re used to seeing rather than experiencing - it was only a matter of time until someone from their group would die in action or get disposed of by one of the Masters.

Despite their unease, they stay at the camp, weapons ready and alert about their surroundings. The night was still young and the person in charge was missing. 

- - -

They stopped at an abandoned cabin. However, like the fools they are, chatter is loud enough to be heard from outside, and a lantern was lit inside, showing the silhouettes of people through the windows. Two people stood guard outside, Dion and Ash hiding near the trees. 

“Talk about being obvious,” Ash mumbles under his breath, staring at the sight with furrowed brows. Wasn’t this a little too easy? Out in the open, did they think that the night alone would conceal their presence?

Or maybe this was a trap. Making it look too easy so attackers would act cocky or something along those lines. Acting without thinking. Makes it easy to -

“This is dull.” Dion walks out into the open, clearly having no intention of staying hidden. Unlike the swordsman, the doctor says in hiding. He sighs, shaking his head as he quietly prays for the poor souls. Three strikes of his sword and both are on the ground, dead. One with a slash to his neck and the other was pierced with Dion’s sword to his head. Their bodies fall to the ground with a ‘thud’. 

Then, he kicks the door in without warning, caution thrown into the wind, the corrupted noble acting out of character. Slowly, the doctor follows after, watching from the doorway as your husband swings his sword to slash someone’s eyes, making them blind. The Agriche jumps back when one of the men thrusts their sword with all his might towards your husband’s chest.

He deflects it easily. 

From the doorway, Ash witnesses as the younger male swipes his opponent from his feet, his booth making contact with their own, causing the enemy to trip over. Dion wastes no time in bringing his sword down, blood splattering on his boots and floor, the hem of his cloak also now stained as he kills him. There is no remorse in his red eyes. 

The doctor shivers. 

Two capable men remain. They look at the brooding figure like he was a beast - and perhaps he was, the man emotionless when it comes to his victims. Shaking in their boots, their hold on their sword’s hilts loosen. Their eyes are so wide it’s cometical.

“Remember to leave one alive,” Ash shouts from the doorway. Dion doesn’t spare him a glance as he rushes forward, and another man is killed. Blood is shed and none of it is from him. 

The man who was blind by the Agriche writhes on the floor, palms pressed against the wound as he tries to soothe it. He’s also sobbing, and for a moment, the sound reminds your husband of you.

He’s quickly ripped out of his thoughts as his opponent dashes towards him, lifting his sword and is about to bring it down before Dion just… stabs him in the chest. The sword falls to the floor with a clatter as the man cripples over in pain. Slowly, life fades from his eyes, your husband taking it upon himself to end his life faster.

The sight is reflected in scarlet eyes and their owner feels nothing. He’s all but a canvas painted a bright red, no more room for anything else to be added, black fading at the corners.

The wails of the now blind man reach his ears. He turns on his feet, realizing he should have let one of the enemies who could still see live. A blind man can only help so much with directions. 

Dion takes a quick glance around the one room cabinet only to realize one thing - there are no arrows. Whoever the archer was, they were not here. His eye twitches but he calms himself as he looks at the injured man on the floor, blood dripping from his eyes onto the wooden floor.

His steps are heavy, the floorboards creaking under his weight. Ash reaches the new victim before Dion does. He only stares, standing above him as the doctor checks out the gash. 

“F-fuck! You - you -” The nameless man stutters out before he stops to sob, the pain unbearable. Ash doesn’t blame him.

“He’ll kill you if you keep talking without permission.” A half-lie, the doctor giving your husband a look. “Just keep your mouth shut until spoken to.” Reaching into his coat's inner pocket, he brings out a small bottle full of some type of medicine. 

Dion scoffs as the doctor rinses out the wound, dusting himself off as the wails get stronger. Louder. What was the point of performing first aid? It’s not like he’ll live for long.

Without heistance, Dion kicks the man in the stomach once Ash is done ‘treating’ him. He’s getting impatient - their idiotic and poor attempt to kill him, to trick him was only making the length of his mission longer. He could be with you right now. Watching as your chest slowly rises up and down as you sleep, as his insomnia prevents him from joining you.

He could be in your shared bed by now, the only time you don’t squirm under his gaze. When he can trace the contours of your face with his eyes, wishing that he could do it with his fingers instead. 

He directs his attention back to the matter at hand. Thinking about you only distracts him.

“Talk. The longer you lie or stay quiet, the longer I’ll beat you.” Not a complete lie. He swears he’s trying to be a bit less brutal. For you.

But it’s hard when it was hardwired into his very being at a young age.

“I-I don’t -”

THWACK

Another kick to the stomach that has the man wheezing. Drool flies from his mouth as he doubles over in pain. His entire body feels wrecked, his eyes fucked for the rest of his life, no matter how short. Breathing hurts but his lungs won’t stop seeking for oxygen. The burning sensation almost makes him wish he was dead. 

“Ugh… I-I was ju-just ordered to be stationed here…” He braces himself for another kick that never comes. However, he doesn’t delude himself into thinking that the threat before him has decided to let him rest. He knows that Dion is planning something else. 

And he’s scared to find out what.

“So you’re mercenaries. Who hired you?” The interrogation continues. 

“I-I didn’t see his fa-face… he wore a ma-mask. Dark blue. A-a bit shorter th-than you." The mercenary gives details as he prays that his death will be a swift one. He knows he’s not leaving alive. 

- - -

The matter was out of their hands now. He has to report everything to Lant, and wait for further instructions. It’s a routine he hates.

He’s treated no better than a show dog.

“At least you’re almost done with the original task.” The doctor tries to be positive.

Dion doesn’t answer as he brings the blind mercenary with him. Unlike with the first one, he carries this one over his shoulder the entire trip back to camp. It’s quicker and easier, while dragging him would slow him down a bit. 

It doesn’t make him dislike it any less. 

“Surprised you kept him alive.” The doctor stares at the unconscious man as he walks behind Dion. “What about the rest of the bodies?”

“We leave them as a message,” is all your husband says. What a crude thing to do, Ash thinks. But he doesn’t comment on it further. 

By the time they reach camp, the soldiers look on in shock as their leader returns covered in splatters of blood with a man on death’s door slung over his shoulder. 

- - -

  “...you want me to do what?”

“Take the money and buy the necklace I told you about earlier. I’ll either be kicked out or they’ll run away immediately as soon as they see me.” He gestures to his messy appearance.

“Just take off your cloak! Wash your face! Besides, what will your wife think if she ever finds out I was the one who got it!? She’ll think that you’re lazy and it’ll only make her view of you worse!” 

The hunting party is on the outskirts of a town they passed by on their way to the hunting grounds. Dion stares at Ash with money in his hand, silently ordering him to take it and buy a necklace that matches your pretty and lovely eyes. 

Dion had passed through the town himself a few weeks ago while out on a different mission. Curious, he decided to check out the local jewelry store. He was only supposed to take a peek, not leave with plans to buy a certain piece. The only reason he didn’t get it right then and there was because he forgot his wallet. 

He still holds that against himself to this day. While it’s true he could have used his status as being part of the Black Clan, it didn’t sit right with him. How soft has he become?

It’s all your fault. And yet, he doesn’t hold it against you. It’s impossible to do so.

“... I suppose you’re right.” 

“Then go get it yourself!” 

The blind and unconscious mercenary is forgotten on the carriage that also holds some monster parts.  

The soldiers in the background try their best to ignore their conversation. But it’s hard when the doctor’s frustration is bursting through the streams, clearly done with their leader. While it was common knowledge among this group of how the two butt heads, it’s a secret outside of it.

For a mere common doctor to go against a child of Agriche, it would be a death sentence. Especially with his occasional condescending remark or tone that would bring punishment or even death for anyone else. However, for whatever reason, Ash Katopodis was the only one who ever lived without injury after shit talking Dion Agriche. The first time it happened, they waited with baited breath for the doctor to fall to the ground, dead. 

The second time it happened they thought it was fluke. 

Everything after that showed that he had a privilege that no-one else ever will have. It’s curious how he’s the only one. 

One time, a soldier, a stupid one, who overheard Dion’s men talk about it did try to snitch on them to Lant, hoping to bring down Dion’s reputation. Safe to say his death wasn’t quick and painless. After that, they all realized that the only reason Dion kept them around was because they knew when and how to keep their mouths shut.

Still, it was entertaining for a man below Dion in status to lose his temper with the crimson eyed noble. 

Even if they can’t hear every word. 

“Take off the cloak - oh. Right. The Agriche crest.” The sudden memory of what’s engraved into that uniform hits Ash hard. How stupid of him to barely remember.

“You there! Come over for a second.” Not waiting for Dion’s response, Ash calls over one of the soldiers. He walks over in confusion, slightly irked that a doctor dared to order him around. But due to his leader being there, he keeps his mouth shut.

“Y-yes?” The man looks at both of them with uncertainty in his eyes. Worried, he keeps himself from turning around to avoid your husband’s eyes. 

“Can you lend him your cloak? Just for a bit.” 

Dion glares daggers at Ash.

- - -

“We-welcome! How may I help you to-today?” Open twenty-four-seven, Ash watches as Dion had knocked on the door of the store, deciding to stay in his stained clothes and dirty boots while staying outside, not staining the store’s floor. How benevolent of him.

The owner, who was originally confused and slightly annoyed, quickly changed tune once he saw the two men. Since he had met Dion before, he knew who he was. Which meant his automatic fear and willingness to work with him and not send him off only made sense.

“The necklace,” Dion starts while recalling how it looks, “the simple gold one with a small (e/c) jewel in the middle - how much?” He knows it’s genuine after the first time he examined it. What he forgot was the price.

This isn’t like him. None of this is. But the second you entered his life, he’s been… different. 

The owner blinks before answering. “Oh, that one? It’s 1240 - but for you, I’ll only charge half.” Business is still business to this man, clearly. Still, seeing how it’s an Agriche who’s his customer, he doesn’t want to test his luck too much.

It’s also amazing how he memorized the price of each and every one of his goods. 

“Alright.” Dion doesn’t try to negotiate to lower the price further. Ash watches in amazement as the exchange comes to an end as the gift is placed in a small elegant blue box that’s carefully placed into his pants pocket. 

- - -

Ash left the party before reaching the Agriche estate.

Everyone else goes their own ways once everything is reported to Lant, the head of the family scowling at the news. Perhaps too tired to care much, considering the time, he dismisses everyone without incident. Everyone but Dion, that is.

“The girl didn’t leave your room today. Were you too rough before departing?” His father takes a puff from his cigar as he questions his son on a matter that frankly, doesn’t concern him. His ugly smirk only makes the context worse.

“... she’s still getting used to ‘it’.” A simple lie that has his father chuckling. It’s nails on a chalkboard, making his ears bleed. 

“Interesting. I never thought you would be that type.” One more puff after a suggestive line. “Well, it’s late - you should get some rest. Or don’t, depending on your mood. It’s not like she can deny you.” 

His hands form fists before they relax. Getting mad here wouldn’t help. Even though every fiber of his being is enraged that Lant is treating you like a sex toy - then again, in his eyes, you probably are. A nice little breeding tool given to him, his son.

He ignores the urge to give in and punch him. 

He wonders how long he’s had these violent feelings towards him.

“Yes, father.” And with that, he leaves. 

The walk to your bedroom feels longer than what it is. Too long. Even so, he doesn’t rush, knowing that you prefer it when he’s gone. A part of him does feel guilty about it, really. At times, he does consider separating himself from you physically - as long as you’re married, as long as you don’t look at anyone else, as long as you belong to him, it should have been fine.

And, truthfully, it was, at first. He was content with the knowledge that you were his wife and he was your husband. Looking from afar would sate his needs, small dinners here and there would have been better than fine. Just hearing your voice would improve his mood, and sharing a bed with you was nicer than nice. 

That day when you were sitting on the floor and fell backwards, head resting on his legs, he couldn’t help but admire your beauty. 

Although, looking back on it now, you probably took it differently.

The night where you allowed him to touch you, his fingers on the bare skin of your back, how loose you were with him, his resolve started to crumble. He shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have acted in a suggestive way, either the position sending his mind places that you clearly didn’t appreciate nor agreed with. He should have gotten up the moment he was done with untying the strings and not imply he wanted to make you cum with both his words and actions.

His behavior that night only served to drive you away further. 

You both had your first time together, which was amazing - but he does regret how it went. He should have been softer, kissed you, whispered praises in your ear as he slowly, inch by inch, entered you, said you were beautiful because you were, because you are. 

But, shamefully, he was caught up in his head. Too eager to take you, to become one, his actions only worsen your impression of him. He should have been better. Instead of trying to hold himself back which only made him look disinterested, made him look selfish with sexual pleasure, he should have given in a little bit, at least with making you cum and sweet words he should have said instead of calling you cute only when you started to cry.

Maybe then, you would be more welcoming to fleeting touches and even accept a kiss to the forehead or at the very least, hold his hand. But now you only see him as a perverted creep, and no matter how hard he tries, everything only backfires on him.

He has no-one to blame but himself. 

He pauses once he reaches the bedroom doors. It’s only now does he realize he didn’t wash up - still dirty and covered in specks of blood. Dirt in his hair, he wonders if he stinks or just smells like the outside. Or maybe that would smell bad to you too.

His eyes glaze overs at the thought of you shooing him away - can’t he just spend a few minutes with you? Maybe he should just… lock you up. That way, you wouldn’t be able to avoid him. You wouldn’t be able to give your attention to anyone else, if he just hid and locked you away all for himself.

A pause before he sighs through his nose. Not a good idea despite how tempting it is.

He’ll just take a peek. To see if you’re asleep or not. He’ll leave to wash up as soon as he sees you before going in.

His thoughts are interrupted when his hand starts to turn the door knob without his knowing. He caves.

Only he caves in once he sees you on the terrace, in nothing but your sleep attire. A frown pulls at his lips - it’s slightly windy - he knows this is only an excuse to get closer to you, but an obsessed man can only hold back for so long. In the beginning, he was satisfied with just being married to you. But your personality, your real one that shined through in the past, was addicting. Your skin was so warm and hair soft, and the way you  had clung to him during your first night would have eventually caught up with him, wanting to hold you in his arms again.

It didn’t have to be in a sexual manner. Your genuine sweetness was never meant for him and he knows this. But, at times, it does hurt a bit that you just don’t remember past events, no matter how small.

Quietly, by reflex, he enters the room and opens the closet to pull out a coat. The first one he sees is a gift from his mother.

Despite his distaste of it, he pulls it out regardless and walks to you. You smell nice, he thinks as he gets close enough to place the coat over your shoulders. He sees the way you tense but he still can’t stop himself from saying -

“You’re still awake.”

= = =

EDIT: *- it's a plant I made up. That's all.

tag list: @tiny-mimi @umi-adxhira @pix-stuff @queenofspades403

@manitscold @s-ajia @disappointment-san @rentaldarling @darkumbreon92 @puggyeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[kuromkiz]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ My Birthday Boy | ʏ.ᴊᴡ

WORD COUNT: 0.7k PAIRING : yang jungwon x fem!reader GENRE : fluff, drabble

SYNOPSIS : it’s jungwon’s birthday, so you wanted to indulge in a day of festivities with your favourite boy, but he just wanted to marinate in bed with you. all. day. safe to say, a majority of his birthday was spent with warm cuddles and silly words.

AUTHORS NOTE : hi lovelies! heres another wonie fic for baes bday. I hope you’ll enjoy this!!

WARNINGS : none, except that they’re so cute and loving im so lonely ㅠㅠ

SOUNDTRACK : ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : 1 / 1 ↳ ハートはナイトブルー -ending- (hāto wa naito burū)—kaede, lamp

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

any likes, comments, or reblogs are appreciated !! feedback is also welcome, just don't be rude or disrespectful yk :p

© @kuromkiz on tumblr. do not re-upload or claim as your own

In the comforts of your shared bed, you and your boyfriend were intertwined like vines that climbed a tree.

Outside it was colder than a commercial kitchen’s freezer—you could say that if you were to step out, you’d be frozen meat.

Despite the juxtaposition of the warmth enveloping your woven figures and the blistering chill just a wall away, you had plans to make sure Jungwon would enjoy this celebration with you to the max. His celebration, it was his birthday after all!

“Babe.” you nudged him with your foot.

“Mm.” a raspy grumble responded.

Your current position called for an exterminator to remove the leech clung to your front—did you just call the love of your life a leech? Maybe. Jungwon’s head lay snug against your chest, his nose burrowing into your neck making you cringe from the ticklish sensation. He was basically a leech.

“Won, that tickles!” you lightheartedly giggled as your attempts of distancing yourself from him were slim as he practically chased after you.

He huffed, giving a childish whine as he pulled you back so he could rest upon you once more. “But… you’re so warm baby.” he nuzzled into your shoulder like a loving cat.

You clicked your tongue in mock annoyance. “Jungwon, I made plans for your birthday, love.”

“How about we just stay here? It’s so comfy…” he hummed. “I think the best day is when it’s spent with you.”

You couldn’t wish away the blush that crept upon your cheeks even if you wanted to.

The day prior, he had come home tired and drained. When you walked to the entrance, ready to greet him with open arms, he instantly fell into you. He inhaled your scent with his arms connecting behind your waist. “Hi baby.” his voice had been muffled by your fuzzy sweater.

Your hands had reached and played with his blonde hair, your face pressed into his shoulder as he curled into you. “Hi honey, how was practice?” You pulled your head away from his chest to grab his face in your hands.

Jungwon had leaned into your touch, sighing contentedly. “Mm… tiring, but I’m better now that I’m with you.” he hummed.

When you squished his cheeks together playfully, his lips puckering in the process, you giggled at the way his face compressed. “Hmm, you’re cheesy tonight.”

He chuckled, eyes peering into yours through a half-lidded gaze. “I don’t know.” he shrugged. “S’pose I just love seeing my lovely, beautiful, generous girlfriend.” His lips stretched to a loving smile that made your cheeks warm.

“Shut up.” You scrunched your nose at the compliment, hearing the words leave his lips made you feel utterly lovesick.

You turned to leave the entrance of your apartment, but Jungwon’s hands grabbed at your wrists, allowing you to tug him wherever you wanted.

After he showered and changed into a pair of plaid sleeping pants, his chest left bare, he quickly stalked towards you covering his chest with his crossed arms. “Ahh, it’s cold babe!” he shivered, quickly ducking under the covers and pulling your already laying down figure into his hold.

You had been on your phone waiting for him to leave the bathroom, and you yelped when he pulled you in. “Jungwon! You’re so cold!” you huffed, tearing yourself away from his grabbing hands.

“That’s better.” he sighed in satisfaction, spooning you from behind with his head resting on top of your shoulder. For the rest of the night until you fell asleep, the both of you entertained yourselves with the media on your phone.

Now here you were. In the early morning of his birthday, with you still tangled in his grasp.

“Won, I planned a whole day for you.” you frowned, brushing away the light hair covering his face and tenderly peeking at his peaceful expression. He looked utterly beautiful in this moment. His lashes sat prettily against his cutely puffed cheeks, hair a mess from deep sleep.

His eyes opened slowly, gazing at yours with so much love you felt unreal. “Don’t you think it’d be perfect just staying home? Or in this bed? Look at the weather, honey.” he nodded to the window, scattered snow beginning to fall.

You pursed your lips. “I wanted you to enjoy your birthday though.” you pouted.

He smiled, a pretty smile that made you want to frame it. “I’ll always enjoy a day with you my love.”

You tsked at his heart-wrenchingly sappy words. “You’re such a romantic.”

His grin stretched so widely you thought his cheeks would begin to hurt. “Just for you.” He pecked your collarbone whilst diving back into the crevice of your neck.

For the rest of the morning, the two of you laid comfortably in each other’s arms, with warmth interlaced in the space between you.

Jungwon would later claim that he had the best birthday ever, lying in bed with the prettiest girl in his arms, hugs and kisses a given.

ENDING NOTES: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE!! can you guys believe he’s already 21 ㅠㅠㅠㅠ time flies fr. wish this was longer, but my creative juices stopped and i couldn’t write LOL. leave a comment if you enjoyed this!!

© @kuromkiz on tumblr. do not re-upload or claim as your own

[halalgirlmeg]

🚨🚨🚨THIS IS URGENT PLEASE DO NOT SCROLL. PLEASE REBLOG🚨🚨🚨

Hello everyone. It has been multiple days of posting. Many reblogs and no donations. This isn't unheard of, across the board multiple Palestinans have talked about how their posts have stagnated. Those who collect esims and who run larger campaigns to collect funds have spoken about how their engagements have dropped and they are receiving much less than they did last year. And I feel the same here, I'm not entirely sure of the origin of the change but I do feel there was a lot more help before. And maybe people are working with less, maybe they're tired, maybe the algorithm is supressing things. Maybe multiple reasons, but still i want to make sure that Shimaa and her family get the help they need like anyone in Palestine should be getting help needed. People are facing lack of food as aid is not allowed into Palestine or when it is it is subpar if not dangerous (being expired or poisoned for instance), people are in danger just moving from place to place. I particularly am helping Shimaa to campaign towards being able to help her family have food and toiletries and they are one of the many people that are hoping to rebuild their home. Our current goal is 350. And we have yet to receive any aid for this one. And I'm not sure what else to say. No one has to give like the whole thing or like 100 dollars but a little bit could help because from many people small additions really add up. But no contributions means we stay where we are and it will take that much longer for help to reach Shimaa and her family. So, please help if you can. If you are unable to, at least continue to reblog and contribute, even if you see older posts because they have the same links and if it works it works, anyway help can be received is gladly appreciated. @im-smart-i-swear is also still doing commissions in exchange of proof of your help

GOAL: 0/350

[thenatezone]

Wow what a response to one of the only sincere things I've posted on this site in like 15 years lol

I wanna thank everyone for reblogging with suggestions for what your "casserole" can be this year and beyond, it's honestly inspiring

Also I want to clarify that the point of this was not to guilt anyone for allowing themselves to feel happy in the midst of tragedy. In fact, the phrase "Joy is an act of resistance" originally comes from the poetry of Toi Derricotte. A lot of her writing is about the ongoing struggle to find happiness, community, and a sense of self despite a hostile world projecting their hate and fears onto black women.

The point of the original post is that we shouldn't let such an important and powerful phrase devolve into something trite.

Obviously staying alive is the most important thing, and feeling joy is a huge part of that! But if you are in a position to help others do the same, in whatever small way you can, anything is better than nothing.

"Joy is an act of resistance" is becoming a comparable phrase to "I'm keeping you in my prayers." It's a nice sentiment and it FEELS better than saying nothing but it doesn't actually require you to do anything so it's not especially helpful on its own. When I was a kid my mom was hospitalized for several months and our family got a lot of prayers but we definitely remembered the folks who backed up those prayers with a casserole. Make sure you back it up with a casserole in 2025.

[shaynawrites23]

Hiya! We're at 400 followers here, and I want to thank all of you again. I honestly never thought I’d hit anything over 100, so thank you all for following and for sticking around!

It’s time for another celebration! I have no better ideas than an event like this lol so let's go! I will do my best to keep up with any requests, I promise :)

Not here for a request? That's fine! I've got some ask games below, or feel free to send in anything you'd like!

(Small disclaimer: I will be writing requests as fast as my mental health and my life allow! I promise you I see and will write everything that comes in, in no particular order, but you're also always welcome to check in on your request!)

General rules:

- please specify whether you’d like angst or fluff, i can do suggestive too but not if you're a minor so please do follow that guideline 💜

- you don’t have to be following me to participate! feel free to request something, or just join in!

- be respectful! we're all here to have a good time, let's have some fun together 😊

Ask games:

🥰 - Touches

Send in the above emoji together with a prompt from this list and a character listed below, and I'll write you a lil blurb!

❤️ - I Love You

Red heart with one of these prompts plus a character and I’ll write a lil blurb!

👌🏻 - Fic Reblog

Send me this with a link to your fic, I'll read, reblog and comment!

🌅 - Vibe Check

Pop in my inbox with a sunset emoji and I'll compliment your vibes, or you as I know you if we're moots! Off anon please for this one 😄

🆓️ - Anything!

Whether it's random questions, or you just wanna hop in for a chat, or send in a request that doesn't follow the prompt lists, or something else still, go for it!

Characters (for requests)

- Remus Lupin

- Sirius Black

- Bucky Barnes

- Loki Laufeyson

- Peter Parker

- Cary Agos

Tagging some moots:

@kimorna @the-young-and-forgotten @johnmurphyisqueer @naviation-xx

[starry-bi-sky]

i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

[gomzdrawfr]

hiya darlin'

alt + ref:

inspired by 661ave's Price edit

Pose ref from Transatlantic(2023) | Cory Michael Smith as Varian Fry

[elucubrare]

@idionkisson said, re: my very last tag, if you wanted to share any more mean thoughts about this tendency vs. the way people talk about AI art, yk, just sayin, i'd love to read em 👀

DISCLAIMER: I don't think the current usage of AI art is good. I think it further contributes to the devaluation of the artist's intent. that said, the thesis of this post is that there was a strong anti-intellectual and anti-academy vein of thought that prepared the way for the view that AI art is a full replacement for human-made art.

so, there was an age of the internet where every other tumblr post, it seemed, was about how this artistic-looking thing had happened "accidentally" or was done by an amateur, or described an artist with a decent amount of recognition and respect in the art world as "this guy," as in "this guy spent a year making a map that is the territory" - the one i'm immediately able to find is this crystalized book, by the artist Catherine McEver.

it went viral on tumblr as "a book that fell into the ocean" (and on facebook as "an ancient bible that's still readable", which is v. funny because that book is clearly less than a hundred years old, and i would warrant less than 10). there was also a really cool artwork with less easily googable keywords - someone (eta: thanks to @zukriuchen it's Brian Fanner) made a beehive with internal structuring so that it would look like a heart when opened, which people posted as "a beehive that went back to nature" or something. this supposedly accidental production of works that evoke emotion in the viewer was contrasted to "modern art", which was viewed as sterile, emotionless, overly intellectual, and inaccessible. Only that which Nature creates, or which people create accidentally or without study is "true art".

to some extent, this is a reaction to the way art, especially making money in art, has become genuinely inaccessible - much studio art is taking part in a really long conversation that you could probably trace back to the walls of Lascaux if you wanted, and it is really hard to make your way as a working artist.

(NOTE i am not going to say "due to capitalism" here - the way you could make your way as a working artist without being born rich in the Renaissance was "being adopted as a pet artist by a nobleman" or "getting commissions from the Church" and in the 18th and 19th centuries it was "selling portraits to rich people" or "making a whole bunch of sentimental prints that sold well". we are not well-served by inventing past utopias.)

but that, combined with a shallow reading of the death of the author (not "the author's point of view on their own work is a single reading & not necessarily the most valid one" but "the only thing in a work is what any individual reader sees there"), ends up valorizing things the author "didn't see" in a work ("did they know how funny this is????" about a deliberate contrast in tone in a scene is part of this too), because it allows the reader to feel smarter than the author - they just put down the proceedings of their soul, the reader decodes it and finds the truth!

So, to return to AI. AI art does not have the same intentional choices behind it as human-made art. i won't argue that. but there are AI pieces that get reblogged without people knowing, with tags that indicate that it made the reblogger feel something, and then as soon as they find out that it's AI they decry it as soulless. but didn't it make you feel something, before you knew it was AI? is there a difference, in the initial experience, all arguments about copyright aside, between a computer randomly collecting billions of bits and outputting an image and "this guy put ink on ants' feet, what they created will amaze you"? both of them are art without intent.

again, I am arguing purely on an experiential level. there are ethical concerns about AI art, and functionally, there IS still a human actor who thought of putting ink on those ants; ant-foot art is not going to take over the internet. still, it's extremely jarring, after years of reading people downplay artists' skill, intent, and years of study, often phrased as an attack on the "fake" art world, to read them now talk about how the artist's intent and experience is paramount.

there's this horrible school of attempted literary criticism on here that holds that 1. everything in any given author's work is autobiographical, especially if it seems "real" and 2. those themes seeped into the work subconsciously, revealing something about the author that they're either trying to hide or unaware of themself. it drives me up a wall, since it seems to deny the fundamental skills that make people good writers: the empathy to imagine and portray experiences that one hasn't had oneself and the ability to take one's personal emotional experiences or worldview and fold them, consciously, into the unworked clay of a narrative.

[lucasandlily]

Rui x Reader who is really affectionate, but can't touch him because of The Curse.

A/N: I'm alive!! Rui my beautiful beautiful tragic boy. I've actually been having a lot of brainrot for this game, particularly an isekai AU that made me contemplate making RP blog (I love you guys btw. This is probably my first fandom where they're so active, I've been really well connected with this fandom somehow and it's so fun!!), so I figured I might as well be writing it down now. This is an idea I've had spinning in my head for a while, so it's VERY self-indulgent/insert, but enjoy!! AO3 link here

Rui's POV. Second-person pronoun "You" is used. Angst! But also fluff!! (825 words)

You’ve always been an affectionate little thing. It’s something Rui finds adorable about you, staying optimistic despite all that looms over you, not letting any of the ghouls he KNOWS can be more than a little much sometimes destroy your positive attitude. It’s as if you decided to be the light in a place that literally has dark in its name, and he lov admires you for that.

He can’t help but feel the bitter green of envy though, when he watches you ruffle Lyca’s hair after he whines at you for treating him like a dog. 

He pointedly turns away from the look Ed gives him over your head when you relax into his chest after he leans over your shoulder.  

He just laughs along at your drunken antics when you nuzzle into Haru’s hand, somehow even more touchy when your cheeks are flushed with alcohol. 

He tries not to remember the flash of hurt, confusion, the first time he’d backed away from your hand when all you wanted to do was give him a pat for a job well done. He doesn’t know if it hurt more when your face morphed into regretful understanding, or when you apologised and told him you’d try not to do it again. 

Rui tells himself it’s for the better when he notices you’ve been avoiding him for the past week. He’d have done the same to you anyway, if he realised his feelings were starting to fester. He tries to not let it get to him when he hears you enter the Obscuary mansion, only to quickly patter up the stairs without stopping by the bar first, as you would have done previously. 

Maybe before, he would have made it a little competition to see who could mess up the other’s hair more. He’d watched you run your fingers through Lyca’s after you’d tousled it out of place, anyway. Maybe in another life, you’d gently hold his face as you showered him with kisses. He’d do the same to you anyway, if he wasn’t forced to keep his hands to himself. 

If he didn’t notice you hold your hand back every time you saw his mask slip. If he didn’t see your hand stop short before pulling it back to tell him he had a bit of hair out of place. 

It’s all just part of the cursed life, he tells himself. He should be getting used to it by now, he sighs as he walks down the hall over to his room. 

Behind him, he hears the jingle of the bell you like to wear on your keychain. He turns at the sound of your quick steps approaching. 

“Rui! Ruiruiruiii!!” You call.

“Ah, there you are! Haha, I’m not going anywhere you know~ though I guess I don’t mind being chased?” He teases as you approach. 

You smile up at him brightly, “I have something to show you!” You tell him, he notices now that you have a hand behind your back. 

“Hm? Aw, did you get me a gift? And here I was thinking you were hiding from me!” He regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth. Your smile falters a bit as you blink at his confession. 

But before he can backtrack with a “Just kidding!” your smile lightens again, eyes filling with some sort of resolve as you pull out… a glove on a stick? in your other hand.

He doesn’t pull away when he feels the simulation of a hand on his head. He can’t, when you look into his eyes with such unmistakable fondness. The awkward, stilted movements as you try to run the imitation hand through his hair communicates how long you’ve wanted to do this, and the tears that well up in his eyes betray how much he’s needed it. 

He feels the cloth soak up the tears when you move the glove down to hold his face. It feels soft under his skin, and he can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

“How long did it take you to make this?” He asks as you let him lace his fingers with your hand extension. He squeezes the plush hand, feeling the soft give before it reaches the stick inside, inspecting where the glove and stick are attached. 

“Um! A week? It took a bit of experimenting to get it to stay on… And they don’t really sell gloves on campus either.” 

Your eyes crinkle when you look at him, the corners of your lips pull up triumphantly when he lets go of the hand to let you pat his head again. 

“You deserve at least this much,” you tell him. “I know it’s not really the same or anything, but I don’t wanna leave you out, y’know?” 

“It was worth it though, if it made you happy.” You look into his eyes as you say this, and he can’t help but believe you.

Reblogs and Comments are appreciated! I love you (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。