#but in truth its only a kindness to himself as he is able to avoid the potential scorn sy could give him if he knew the truth

[rhiangalaxy]

Is it kindness to lie? (IAC Pt.9) ((First/Prev/Masterpost))

[ID: A Scum Villain Comic. First panel has a sideview of chibi!Plant!Yuan who is nervously wringing his shaking hands together with a worried expression as his demonic butterfly flutters concerned behind him. It next shows Chibi!SY perking up and turning with his arms slightly raised as if noticing someone and saying with a tired smile "A-Die! You're back! I was so worried-" It then shows Shen Jiu!Shen Qingqiu with a slightly guilty but down trodden expression as he avoids SY's eyes.

Panel two is drawn fully in chibi style. It shows SY's expression falling slightly taking on a more concerned look as he continues "A-Die? What's wrong? Where's Binghe?" Still looking away with an expression as if he's struggling to find what to say, SQQ responds "... He's gone." SQQ then continues whilst looking towards SY with an apologetic expression "He was slain in battle. ... I'm sorry."

Panel three shows SY with a horrified expression his shaky hands raised up as if going to cover his mouth, his whole body is shaking and his demonic butterfly flutters anxiously. SY mutters "no no no....no that can't be... He can't be-" It then shows SY launching himself at SQQ to hug him tightly for comfort as he sobs, his demonic butterfly trying to comfort him by resting on his head. SQQ looks down at him guiltily, as he wraps his arms around him and the other hand reaching up to find it's way onto SY's head. End ID]

[paragonrobits]

i was just thinking about how in later Discworld books, even as its an unspoken understanding among everyone in Ankh-Morpork that Carrot is the King of the city and he's probably the last descendant of the original ruling line, not only does Carrot avoid pushing the narrative to exploit it unless absolutely necessary, but it never de-emphasizes the fact that he's a dwarf by adoption

Even in later books Carrot is still regularly writing letters to his family in their mine; he thinks of himself as a dwarf, he is CONSIDERED to be a dwarf by all except the most hardliners of dwarf society (and even they can't outright deny him dwarf status, the best they can do is say he is an anomaly); he might USE his narrative status as the One True King, but in his heart, to himself, he is still the child of the Ironfounderssons.

His human heritage is functionally irrelevant to him unless he needs to make use of it, much like his ancestral sword. And it occured to me, what if he actively chose to distance himself from his human heritage because he learned about them in later books and found nothing worth acknowledging?

Carrot is in a weird place because he is the One True King, a narrative status that makes him the good and wise king who knows only truth and justice and comes bringing goodness to all, and this is quite a contrast to the ACTUAL kings of Ankh-Morpork, who were universally at BEST a bunch of horribly useless and inept absolute rulers that are living embodiments of 'the aristocracy are dumber than a sack of doorknobs' the series leans into, and at worst are implcitly some of the most horribly sadistic and cruel people in the setting.

One particular example is Lorenzo the Kind, the last king of Ankh-Morpork, whose name was deliberately ironic; he was so horrifically sadistic that he spelled the end of the kingship because he's the one who was killed by Suffer-Not-Injustice Vimes, who because no one was willing to judge him because kings were considered Special, just dragged him off his throne, cut off his head, and the surviving family members were exiled from the city.

Lorenzo is the last member of Carrot's biological ancestry we have definitive information on, off the top of my head, and he paints a dark, horrific image. He's painted as the absolute nadir of horror from the ruling classes, and is heavily implied to have been a sadistic pedophile with a penchant for torture (at the very least Carrot and Vimes both note that he was apparently fond of children and was painted with a lot of them nearby at all times, discussing it in a way that suggests a DEEPLY uncomfortable topic neither of them wants them to address, and later in Feet Of Clay Vimes points out that Lorenzo had unspecified but horrific machines in the basement).

Carrot is very strongly implied to, at least starting from Men At Arms (in which he discovers he is the king), have investigated his ancestry, and he's able to elaborate on their actions and history, and this also marks the point where he carefully but firmly emphasizes his dwarf heritage for the rest of the series.

He found out who his ancestors were, and discovered they were horrifically evil people, and that Mister Vimes was fully justified in being proud of his ancestor putting them down like rabid beasts, and it leads to him firmly emphasizing that his family are the Ironfoundersson dwarfs.

[livelaughlovesubs]

(Repost cuz tumblr still doesn’t like me- seriously, it’s the six time @nvllxiety)

Dom!reader x sub!akutagawa (reader is gender neutral)

Warning: handjob, overstim, overall very soft

Today your love came home especially early. Despite that fact he looked extremely exhausted and tired, your heart throbs a little whenever you see him in that state. You wanted to take care of him, to make him feel loved. Which is why you were hugging him gently as you two lied on your bed. Your arms wrapped around his waist from behind, chin placed on top of his head. “How was your day aku?” You whispered softly, noticing how tense he was. The boy took a deep breath before explaining, “it was fine as usual.”

You never knew if what he said was the truth, or maybe he doesn’t know better. Another reason why you try to be as tender and patient with him as you could. One of your hand found its way to his hair, ruffling through it while scrubbing his scalp slightly. “I see, as long as you are doing well.”

Akutagawa didn’t need to look at you in that moment to know you were smiling. As always you were being your kind and caring self, something that irritated him as well as made his heart pound. This feeling was weird, it hurts in his chest but he doesn’t want to let go. Suddenly you moved closer to him, those arms of yours tightening around his cold body. You were warm, or at least warmer than him. The warmth radiating from you was heating him up, his body was no longer cold. Now his cheeks were getting hotter, and that curling sensation in his stomach grew stronger. Truly bizarre.

“Hey, ryuunosuke.” He could swear his ears just got redder from the way you said his name, the way it rolled off your tongue made him feel tingles. Was this because you used his first name? “Do you… want me to help you? Down here.” You asked in a quiet manner, then your eyes wandered towards his crotch. “…huh…?!” The boy shook a little, this was surprising, why was his body acting so strange today. A shiver ran down his spine, and you noticed it. You didn’t rush him, waiting once again, matching your pace with his. “If you want to.” He answers, not looking into your eyes, rather avoiding them. “I see, thanks.”

God, he can read you like an open book, can’t you stop grinning at him like this? It was almost embarrassing. He grabbed a pillow, holding onto it like how you were holding him. Panting into the fabric while you slipped a hand inside his pants. “Cute.” You mumbled at the sight unfolding in front of you, feeling your own heartbeat rising.

Slowly you wrapped your hand around his half erect member, he let out shaky gasps as you did. With even more meticulous effort you gave him a handjob, moving it upwards in slow motion. When your fingers reached the top, you rubbed his tip a little, collecting the precum leaking from him to use as lube. He started to trembled, now grasping the pillow even tighter. You knew he was shaking because you could feel it, that was how close your bodies were. Without rushing things too much, you picked up the pace, your hand now moving a tad faster. His face was red as a cherry, completely different than his normal pale complexion. The shame and embarrassment he felt was practically painted on his needy expression, eyes half lidded as he tried to not squirm away from your touch.

In the end, he wasn’t able to keep himself still. Jerking his hips back and forth, matching the rhythm you set. Small whimpers started to slip from the boy. “Mhm..! Hu-uhgnn, hm..” those already barely audible sounds he made were further muffled by the pillow he was holding. If it wasn’t for how dead quiet the room was, you wouldn’t have been able to hear them. The only other noise that occurred were the sounds of yours and his breathing, as well as the blankets being moved aside. Soon enough he reached his limit, clawing at the pillow like a cat while you gazed at him with loving eyes. What are you going to do with him? He was so adorable you were going to overdose on cuteness.

“Ahh…haa-ha, nghhh…” Akutagawa whines a last time before he came, his slim figure trashing around a little. His shoulders also jerked upwards for a split second and his face twisted into one of bliss and want. You could feel something wet dripping down your hand, a familiar sensation by now. “Good job, aku, you did well.” You praised him again, feeling content with him. “mhm.” He gave back meekly, still not daring to look at you.

“… and are you up for a second round?” What? The boy had to think for a moment, you wanted another round? His ears just tainted bright red, it made you chuckle a little. While he was still ponding over your suggestion, you moved your hand again. He yelped, “eh-uhh..!” Now finally facing you, staring at you with hesitant eyes. “It will be fine, leave it all to me.”

This time he was a bit more expressive than before, jumping at every contact. It’s obvious he was more sensitive now, his shoulders were raised to his ears as he bit into the pillow. Was the pleasure too much? Was he ashamed of his voice? How cute. Your hand moved slightly faster, you could hear the pounding of your own heart, it was getting louder and louder. “Mhm..hngnnn, hmm..!” The boy let out some high pitched sounds. He was trying his best to make it easy for you, but in the end, he didn’t succeed. His legs clenched together, the overwhelming feeling was taking him by a storm. It felt so good but also frustrating, how he was losing himself over such a small thing.

“Ah.. y/n.” Akutagawa whispered, not knowing why he called out to you. “Yes? I’m right here with you, don’t worry, you are safe with me.” You reassured him, knowing that he was getting closer which is why you picked up your pace once again. “Hmm-!” Chocked out moans escaped him, a sigh that he was enjoying himself. This made you feel proud, of yourself and him. “So good, so so good for me.”

“Please..” he managed to say between ragged breathing’s, mouth hung agape while he continued to shiver. “It’s alright, dear.” You said, smiling when you noticed him looking back at you. “Ah-ahhHHh…!” Not long after he came again, this time his entire body shook as he came. Another wave of build up ecstasy washing over him, enough to make his mind go blank for a second. “You did so well, I’m proud of you.” You said, while kissing his head, hand still moving though slowly to help him come down. A sigh of relief and disappointment came from the male when he realised this was over. Now he was even more exhausted than before.

Even more of his fluid was running down your hand now, you grabbed a tissue to wipe it away. This was only a temporary solution, you should get a towel. “I’ll go to the bathroom, okay?” You proposed but he turned you down, switching positions so that he was facing you and snuggling against your chest. “… just a minute.” He demanded and closed his eyes. This act caught you off guard, but it wasn’t bad. Haaaah… you just can’t say no to him when he’s being this sweet and vulnerable.

[cozzzynook]

Bringing you part 3 for TFA insecticon Bee :D

Bumblebee hated lying, he truly hated it as every time he told a lie his spark burned with guilt. Unfortunately for most of his life Bee had been forced to lie over again and again, even now he was lying to his team mates. At first it was just about his past and who he truly was now...he had a bigger secret to keep.

Pacing back and fourth in his hab Bee let out a panicked sigh as he glanced back at the nest that sat hidden in the corner of the room. Inside the egg was brightly glowing as its hue had only gotten stronger as the weeks passed, it was due to hatch any moment now. Bee wasn't sure how'd he manged to keep the secret for so long but he knew the moment it hatched he wouldn't be able to keep it a secret anymore. Of course he can make up another lie about how he found a lone sparkling but if this bitty turned out to look too much like their Sire Bumblebee would find himself being asked some serious questions, especially from Prowl.

Falling back against his wall the yellow mech let out another sigh while his gaze drifted down until he was looking at his servos. "I fragged up big time. When boss bot finds out he'll- he'll..." he quickly covered his face with his servos trying to hide from the guilt and shame. "I'm so sorry..."

As to answer their Carrier's voice the egg shook for a few moments quickly followed by a crack. It would shake a couple more times before finally breaking open, a small chirp escaped calling out. Bumblebee quickly rushed to nest looking down at the tiny frame only to meet tiny bright optics looking up at him. Reaching out Bee scouped the sparkling into his arms, a small smile forming on his lips as he checked over his sparkling. The sparkling was a femme with bright gold optics, her frame was sleek with a dark smokey black base with thin yellow accents. A small chevron curved along her helm like a crown while on her back two long fragile wings softly buzzed. She was perfect in Bee's optics.

"Hey its okay, Carrier is here" Bumblebee cooed as he nuzzled his bittie's helm giving a gentle soothing chirp. "Its alright, I'm not going any where"

As the sparkling settled nuzzled closer to her Carrier's chest, Bee gave a soft sigh looking back at his door wondering what he should do next. Even if he told everyone the truth would his team even accept them, accept the hybrid bots they were? For now he can worry about later as for now he had a sparkling to bond with.

------

Meanwhile Prowl walked down the base's hall heading for Ratchet's office. Normally Prowl would keep these kind of questions to himself or meditate until he found the answer for himself, but this question was a bit more personal and rather difficult to answer. With a slow knock Prowl gave a sort huff as he stood outside the office waiting for an answer.

"Come in"

Stepping inside Prowl quickly found the spare seat quickly settling down on the chair while keeping his helm down. While Ratchet had put away his data pad he was currently reading only to give a sort grunt as he sat down at his desk.

"What brings you here Prowl, are you sick?" The medic grumbled as he crossed his arms scanning the sleek mech in front of him.

"No, I'm well Ratchet" Prowl spoke as he finally turned his attention to Ratchet while his digits tapped against each other nervously. "In fact, I wanted some advice..."

"I see, well gone on then" Ratchet raised a brow as he leaned back in his chair. It was rare for young bots to ask for advice other than medical so his interest was peaked.

"Its about Bumblebee, I can't help but feel like he's avoiding me. Normally I wouldn't think much about it...ever since his heat cycle its just been tense..." Prowl sighed as he allowed his frame to sulk a little. He let like an idiot for not seeing this sooner.

Ratchet rolled his optics giving a sigh, of course he knew what was going on he's seen this happen before to plenty young couples. "Ah, I see. Well I can't blame you both for being a little stiff around each other. Heats are rather personal things and dose take a great deal of trust between bots, however sometimes after a cycle ends you find yourself wanting more than a quick frag"

Prowl just blinked taking in the medic's words. His spark quickened in his chest while his tanks fluttered. "Are you suggesting that I might be...in love with Bumblebee?"

"Well, are you?" Ratchet scoffed giving his famous scowl.

For a moment Prowl paused as he begin to think. While both Bee and himself often butted helms due their different interests and personalities, he couldn't help but be found of the yellow mech. His face grew hot when he remembered their nights spent during Bee's heat, how he softly moaned and begged Prowl to be gentle as they kissed as their frames rocked in rhythm. "I-I think you might be right, Ratchet"

The medic smirked as he rose from his seat. "Well, take it from an old mech. Don't waste your time rusting away hoping or wishing for answer go and find out yourself, trust me you won't regret it that way"

"I will, thank you Ratchet" Prowl smiled warmly as he got up and headed for the door. He knew the medic was right he couldn't just sit and waited for a sign. He was going to talk to Bumblebee tonight!

As Ratchet watched Prowl leave his office, the old mech just chuckled to himself as he turned his attention to an old photo on his desk. "Young mechs, am I right Drift?"

^_^

Aaahhh smiley!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lskcoowicisaoikaiskdujwicocojvoxdvpbogxidby saw hupoghocpvuvguvtuugjgjfuh lh

I LOVE THIS!!!!

GO GET YOUR MAN PROWL!!!!

AND FIND OUT YOU HAVE A SPARKLING TO TOP IT OFF!!!!!!!!

Thank you for sharing 🥰

[hepburnswan]

I did it.

you are kenough

🌸 pt 2 🌸

🌸 pt 3 🌸

pairing: ken x reader

summary: ken does some self reflecting after the patriarchy incident and personally apologizes to all the barbies

warnings: little fluff, little angst, reader is a barbie, talk ab gender equality?? can be read as platonic or romantic ig 🤷‍♀️

word count: 1.3k

authors note: ok this is kind of goofy but i thought ken needs to repent after what he did and also why not throw a bit of fluff in 🤗 also this is my first fic ever dont hate on me 😭

special shoutout to my bsf june for being both my cheerleader and my proofreader ‼️

It had only been a couple of days since Barbieland had been restored to its rightful state. The barbies were back in charge, no longer evicted from their homes, and things were starting to get back to normal. Not only that - but changes were being made. Though barbies continued to be the leaders of Barbieland, the Kens’ message was heard loud and clear - they no longer wanted to be accessories to barbies. And that was fair. But there still was some understandable tension between the two groups. After all, it’s not every day you get kicked out of your own house and treated like a servant.

For those couple of days, you had kept to yourself, and that was okay - though you normally loved to have fun with the other barbies and kens, you didn’t mind being alone. What wasn’t okay was that you didn’t dare to leave your dreamhouse, almost fearing that if you left you might not be able to come back to it. For the days after the incident, you avoided the kens like the plague, and that was something strange and new for you. Sure, they had their moments, but even then, they had always been sweet. You never dreamed you��d actually lose your trust in them.

When the other barbies would wave to you from their dreamhouses, asking if you would be at the beach, at their party, etc., you simply told them you weren’t feeling well.

You weren’t feeling well, that was the truth.

Never once living in Barbieland did you have to worry about being oppressed. Never once did you have to worry about being, well, a Barbie! That was the fate of the people who lived in the real world. Never once did you think that could happen in Barbieland.

But it had, and you didn’t think you could recover.

So you sat on your sofa all day, sipping your imaginary coffee, almost waiting for something to happen.

A knock on the door.

You were almost sure it was one of the other barbies, checking up on you because they were worried, but instead you opened up the door to see him.

Ken. The Ken. King of the Beach. Tall, blonde, athletic. Always happy, always kind. At least you had thought so. It was a shame. You had always liked Ken.

“Hi Barbie,” He says nervously.

“Hi Ken,” you say, without a hint of cheerfulness.

“Can I, um.. can I come in?”

“Why? Have you come to take back your Mojo Dojo Casa House?”

“No, Barbie.”

A moment of silence. Though you were wary, you knew you couldn’t keep living like this. You couldn’t hide forever. Motioning for him to enter, you sigh.

“Come in.”

He perks up a little, before sliding into the house. He’s not really sure what to do with himself, so he just kind of stands there awkwardly.

“Uh.. here,” you say, motioning to the couch. He follows, and the two of you sit down.

“So. Why are you here then?” You ask, your voice a quiet mix between anger and sadness. You can’t gather the courage to look him in the eye, instead staring down at your feet.

“I came to apologize.”

“Hmm. You did?”

You can feel the tears beginning to well. In your throat, in your eyes. You had never had real tears, not until all of this had happened.

“Yes Barbie, I did. Oh god, where do I even start. Barbie, you deserve so much better than what we did to you. I’m sorry we took your dreamhouse. I’m sorry we made you wait on us. I’m sorry we treated you - that we made you feel - like you were insignificant. You are so much more than that.”

You can’t take it. A sob rips from your throat, the tears spilling over your eyes. You can’t stop. You cover your face in embarrassment.

Ken immediately rushes closer to you. “Hey, hey,” he says quietly. He’s not sure if he should hug you; he instead just ends up resting a delicate hand on your back, patting it every now and then. “Oh Barbie, please don’t cry … I’m sorry, I’m so sorry..”

You’re choking on your tears, almost hyperventilating.

“Alright, hey, it’s okay. Just take a deep breath, alright, it’ll be okay.”

When you’re finally able to calm yourself down, Ken continues.

“You have got every right to be upset. All the barbies do. But I can’t help but notice you’ve taken it harder than everyone else.”

You’re almost angry at that last sentence. He couldn’t be serious, could he? Did he seriously expect you to just get over this?

Ken seems to pick up on this, and adds, “And I’m not saying that’s a bad thing either. Like I said, you’ve got every right to be upset. I’m just worried about you!”

The anger begins to subside.

“You .. you haven’t been at the beach in days! You love the beach, Barbie.”

“I loved the beach.”

Silence.

“Barbie .. I just wanna see you happy again. We all do.”

Nothing.

“Barbie.. what can I do to fix this?”

You finally look up at him, tears in your eyes.

“Why did you do it, Ken?”

He gazes back at you, his expression even sadder then it already was. Now it’s him who can barely look you in the eye.

“Barbie,”

“Yeah?”

“First of all I want you to know that I’m not trying to excuse anything I did. But if knowing will make you feel better, I’ll tell you.”

You nod, unsure of what you’re about to hear.

“Barbie .. I just don’t feel good enough. I thought being in charge of everything would make me feel important. That it would make me feel better about myself. I was wrong though. I just ended up hurting people that didn’t deserve it. It was so, so wrong. I was wrong, Barbie. I’m so so sorry.”

“Ken ..”

He begins to cry himself. “And now I’ve hurt you, I’ve hurt you so bad you don’t even feel like you can leave your dreamhouse!”

It’s then when Ken lets out a series of comically loud sobs, face cupped by his hands.

“Oh Ken..” you say sympathetically, rushing over to the counter to grab a box of tissues. “Here..”

Ken sniffles, blowing imaginary snot into the tissue. You pat him on the back gently, just as he had done for you earlier.

“I’m sorry, Barbie. I’m totally pathetic,” he whines.

Sitting down next to him, you take his hand into yours. “You’re not pathetic, Ken. You’re showing remorse, that you truly are sorry for what you did. That’s not pathetic.”

“You think so?” he sniffs.

“I do. Ken, you never needed to change yourself to be enough for other people. You always were enough. You’re kenough, Ken!” you giggle, pointing at his sweatshirt.

“Ah, yeah..” he laughs. “You think so?”

“Yes, Ken. I liked you before patriarchy. You were always kind, and funny and caring, and I was always happy to be around you. When you changed, not only did I feel disrespected.. I was sad. I missed the way you all were before. I get it - you don’t wanna be second to the barbies. But you could’ve said that-“

“Another way,” Ken interjects.

“Yes.”

“I know, Barbie. That’s what I feel awful about. I know I sound like a broken record, but I really am sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, Ken. Everyone should feel heard in Barbieland.” you mutter quietly.

For a moment, the two of you sit there, nodding heads in silent agreement, before Ken asks,

“Barbie?”

“Hm?”

“You really liked the way I was before?”

“Yes, Ken. Like I said, you don’t need to change yourself. For anyone. You’re enough, the way you are.”

“Then I won’t ever change again,” he says, before pulling you into a hug.

“I hope not,” you smile, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Barbie?”

“Yes, Ken.”

“Will you be at the beach?”

“Yes, Ken. I’ll be at the beach.”

[aspoonofsugar]

RWBY Volume 9 Epilogue: The Five Stages of Grief Again

As @greenteaandtattoos's friend noticed, volume 9 epilogue has its five narrators embody the five stages of grief:

Negation - refusal to aknowledge the truth, while clinging to a preferable reality.

Anger - lashing out on others in an attempt to channel one's pain and frustration.

Bargaining - being ready to negotiate, to give something in order to avoid loss. When death already happened, it is about exploring what ifs scenarios.

Depression - sadness, desperation and refusal to engage with others. It often comes with low energy.

Acceptance - coming to terms with one's loss and finding a new stability.

This isn't surprising, as volume 9 as a whole uses this motif. In particular, Ruby herself goes through the 5 stages twice. First to grieve over Penny and then to face her emotions towards Summer. Finally, RWBYJN reach acceptance (the main theme). Acceptance of death, loss, pain, change and of themselves. All in all, RWBYJ's journey in the Ever after is a metaphor for the process of grieving. Well, the epilogue shows us how the other characters have been dealing with this emotion.

So, here comes NORWQ as the 5 stages of grief:

Nora = anger: tbf she is the most difficult to pintpoint, as she fits the pattern less than others. Still, her section focuses on how Vacuans and Atlesians are both reacting with anger at the new status quo. Vacuans are frustrated that Atlas brought its own problems into their Kingdom. Atlesians are furious nobody came to help them. Nora herself enters into a short confrontation with two angry Vacuans and clearly projects her own past into the conflict. What's wrong with orphans? What's wrong with her?

Oscar = negation: our Little Prince is the only one that believes Ruby and the others might be alive. He even looks for an answers into books (mirroring how RWBYJ is grieving through a fairy tale). On a personal level, he and Ozpin are both fighting the merge, so they are negating a transformation, which is bound to happen.

Ren = bargaining: Lotus boy is trying to replace Jaune as the glue who keeps the team together. He is conscious of everyone's feelings and problems, but is not sure on how to handle them. Moreover, his section deals with how Salem's faction goes through a bargain. Sure, it lost some people in Atlas, but Tyrian and Mercury free the Crown, so that new forces are ready to fight for the Evil Witch of the West.

Winter = depression: our Winter Maiden is dealing very very badly with Penny and Weiss's lost. She blames herself for everything and is far away from accepting Penny's final teaching: "I won't be gone, I will be a part of you". Winter is struggling to honor both Penny and Weiss's legacy. If anything, she feels she isn't the right person to do so. Her section is also the most somber on a macrochosm level. As a matter of fact through her we discover Vale was destroyed by Salem and we see how the refugees are not handling their new situation well.

Qrow = acceptance: Qrow is Winter's opposite, as he is the closest to find acceptance. On a personal level, he shows he has integrated with Clover. He has embraced his friend's optimism and has learnt to love himself through him. This is why his semblance evolved and he is now able to bring both good and bad luck. This new found balance lets him find hope even in the bad situation the world is in. He sees how people are showing kindness and realizes Ruby's message is the first step into uniting Remnant.

Of course, our five narrators all foil each other in different ways. I have discussed Qrow and Winter here, so let's see what to say about Nora, Ren and Oscar.

RENORA = LONELY TOGETHER

Nora and Ren are going through an inversion of their dynamic. Nora is now repressing her feelings and avoiding Ren's attentions and offers of support. Ren instead is grieving openly and is trying to be open with his feelings.

Nora isn't even able to speak directly with the person she lost, but narrates talking to no-one in particular. She mostly speaks about the macrochosm and uses plural forms. "We buried our friends", "I think everyone lost someone that day", "For us it was a relief, but for the Vacuans", ""What if we can't go on, what if we are too scarred?". She is in a sense the embodyment of everyone's grief. At the same time, she is so disconnected from her own trauma, that she can only read it while projecting it on the world:

Ren: Nora, she is putting the world on her shoulders.

Ren instead is the one more focused on the feelings of the people around him. Through his point of view, we discover how the other main characters are doing. We realize Nora is too focused on the macrochosm, while Oscar has trouble with the microchosm (he just isn't himself). Ren is trying to balance out the two dimensions. He is grieving for Jaune and is inheriting his legacy. At the same time, he understands that just like his friends are fighting to overcome anger and pain, so is the world. By doing this, he once again draws a parallel between Nora and the World:

I think the epilogue of volume 9 (or the prologue of volume 10?) sets up Nora as a strong symbolic character in Vacuo. She is Vacuo itself, struggling with pain, grief and anger. She is Atlesian orphans, nameless children too scarred to go on. Ren's role will probably be to step in and remind her how beautiful she is.

OSCAR = STAGNATION

Oscar's conflict permeates both the microchom and the macrochosm. It is synthesized by this phrase:

Oscar: "You always believed in the best. You saw people for who they really were. Some of us don't know anymore."

Here, Oscar is speaking both:

Of himself, who is slowly and painfully merging with Ozpin

Of the world, which finds itself in "uncharted territory"

Oscar is uncertain. Of who he is. Of what to do. So, he looks up to Ruby, who was always certain and could "see the world through better eyes".

At the same time, Oscar's situation strongly suggests he is stagnating. He refuses to accept RWBYJ's death (he is right, but it isn't a healthy reaction). He fights the merge unsuccessfully. He can neither go back to the person he was before nor can he progress towards a better version of himself. Basically, just as Ruby is finding the path back to herself in the Ever After, Oscar is losing himself in Vacuo. This is (just like in Renora's case) an inversion to their previous dynamic. Back in Atlas, Oscar was the one progressing, whereas Ruby was stagnating. Right now, they start their stories in Vacuo in an inversed situation.

OTHER POSSIBLE FOILINGS

Of course, the epilogue/prologue offers several possible foilings that could be explored in volume 10. Here are some (but they aren't all).

Ren and Winter are both talking to the "sibling" they entered a conflict with in volume 8. Both grew distant from Jaune and Weiss, only to reconcile later on. Now, they realize how much Jaune and Weiss did to keep their respective families together. They celebrate their legacies and wonder if they might be able to live up to it. This might also foreshadow some foiling of Jaune and Weiss themselves, once they come back.

Qrow and Oscar are both talking to Ruby (to be fair, Qrow speaks to everyone, but thematically Ruby is her interlocutor). However, Qrow has managed to integrate (with Clover), while Oscar fights integration (with Ozpin (understandably so)). At the same time, Qrow focuses on how Ruby has changed the world, whereas Oscar focuses on how Ruby has changed him.

Nora and Qrow open and end the epilogue. Nora is the one who struggles to grieve the most (she is the only one who never visits the memorial, after the cerimony). She insists she must move on, but also wonders if she will ever be able to. Qrow instead is the one who deals the best with the situation. He finds serenity while at the memorial and grieves in a hopeful way thanks to the murales realized by the community. Both are very involved with helping people and the refugees. Nora is shown helping children and states she wants to help Velvet before eating herself. Qrow keeps going into meetings with Theodore, he spends time with Robyn and the kids and helps the Schnees giving out free food. Still, Nora is clearly wearing herself out, whereas Qrow genuinelly finds hope and energy. Nora is symbolically one of the orphans trying to carry the world. Qrow is instead a mentor, who has learnt he doesn't have to face the world alone.

OTHER THOUGHTS

Happy to see the Crown. I think Jill and Jax have the potential to foil Emercury to an extent, so I am happy to see them (it's them, right?) with Merc. It is also something I had always thought that Tyrian and Mercury's mission to Vacuo might have been to find some new allies there. The Crown were the obvious choice.

I feel neutral about team CFVY appearing so much in the epilogue. My guess is that they are set up to be minor foils to RWBY, kind of like the Happy Huntresses and the Ace Ops were in Atlas. I think the books give them enough set-up to solve their arc in a quick way, while commenting on those of the main characters.

I was surprised about the revelation of Salem attacking Vale. I wonder if she found the crown. I doubt it, so far and I think Glynda missing is clearly set-up as a future plot-point. In any case, we'll see. I am open to everything.

[angelwishess]

Rambling about Floyra again because they genuinely make me ill

Kyra and Floyd’s relationship is honestly hard to describe. Not in the way that its confusing, but its so much deeper and complex than anything i write can convey ??

They’re both people who have never had the privledge of being able of being vulnerable, let alone infront others

They’re both people who have never been truly understood. Floyd being watered down to nothing but his mood swings, and Kyra her impulsiveness.

They’ve both never let many people get too close to them. People know them but they never understand.

They are the first and only people to ever and try to understand eachother. And they do, more than anyone else. If no one else can, who better than them? They understand eachother in a way much deeper than most realize.

Floyd never needed anyone. Kyra never needed anyone. Atleast not until they met eachother. Then, they realized just how much they needed the other. And they finally understood what it meant to love one person so much it hurt.

Kyra has mood swings, just as bad as Floyd. Its just shes grown to be able to hide it, but she has to fight back the urges to just get up and walk away from it all, the urges to get violent. Being a princess has trained her to always be “presentable”.

But then she meets Floyd, whos so unapologetically himself. And he shows all of the traits she has surpressed in herself for the longest time. And he does it without a care in the world.

And it makes her realize, its not a bad thing. Having emotions she cannot control does not make her a bad person.

While Kyra is still very emotionally constipated and struggles to understand her own emotions, somehow knowing Floyd helps her know herself, too.

And, Floyd makes her feel human.

Floyd has always been seen as some sort of “wild child”. Someone to be avoided. Labeled as uncontrollable and unpredictable, treated as something to fear.

But when he meets Kyra, hes treated gently for what feels like the first time. She treats him delicately, almost like glass. She calls him pretty, and looks at him with no fear, but with pure adoration. Genuine love. And he cant help but melt from it. She looked past the person many painted him as. And saw something beautiful.

For once he isnt being treated for some kind of unpredictable beast. And for once, Kyra isn’t being treated like someone who needs to be perfect all of the time.

Two people who have never been vulnerable, find themselves being fully vulnerable to eachother. Their flaws and ugly parts all bare and on display for the other to see. So clearly exposed, for the very first time.

And yet, even after all of the flaws and imperfections, they still love eachother so purely and so genuinely. Even without having to hide their issues or hold themselves back— they could be themselves, together. Unapologetically together. They looked past the surface, past all of the grime and cracks and found something beautiful only they could truly understand.

The purest form of love, and it cannot be described as only love.

They are not just lovers, but something much deeper and much more worse. They are something that can only be described as even more than platonic or romantic. Soulmates, twin flames, eachother’s other half— whatever you want to call them. They are everything and more, somehow and in some way.

They are complex, and their bond runs deeper than any bond theyve ever had before. Not many realize it, but they dont need anyone else to realize it. They know eachother and they understand eachother and thats all they need.

At the end of the day when theyre overwhelmed and tired, they know they can find home and comfort in eachother. In eachother, they found a new freedom to be vulnerable. Within eachother they found peace. A bestfriend, a lover, a favorite person, partners in crime and in life, and something even more.

Their love was slow, patient. It developed over time and only grew deeper. A sudden realization of the obvious truth. They realized, that they’ve already given their hearts to eachother. Kyra was already his, and Floyd was already hers long before they even knew it.

To be so in love that it was so natural, basically second nature to simply just give yourself away to the other. It was ridiculous but it was their truth. Before they knew it they became irreplacable parts of their lives.

“Til’ death do we part” is a lie. Because they’ll find eachother even after that. In every universe, in every world. One way or another. They were already worlds apart, seperated from eachother in this reality; and yet still they managed to find eachother even so.

Their love is pure, unapologetic. Raging, uncontainable and raw. It shines brightly, burns bigger than any fire. It is so deeply instilled in their very beings that it was hard to believe one could love another so much. They never even thought they were capable of such a thing.

But then again, they always did have a way to bring out every part of eachother, sides of themselves they never even realized they had.

I could ramble about them even more but i’ll stop myself for now … HEHEHE

Theres something about someone who’s watered down to something unpredictable and wild, seen as an uncontrollable whirlwind of emotions that is incapable or caring for anyone but themself— melt in gentle hands. Someone who is seen as “scary” go soft and letting themselves be vulnerable in someone else’s arms … its my favorite trope and u can NEVERR tear it away from me 🔥🔥

(When I said “flings” i meant when people for some reason make him some sort of flirty play boy ?? I am not kidding the amount of things ive seen of that 😭)

A special thank you to @screamintoad for letting me yap about them 🫶🫶 ily man HEHEHE 💗

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Undersea Advisor.

In life, there are many variables to account for. Ah, but variables can be manipulated.

He remakes the world in his image.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

There are several little glass containers, lined up in a neat row, on his work bench. He is the master, and this is his craft: pocket dimensions, each with a different biome bottled.

Here is a lush garden with enchanted roses and caterpillars that blow smoke, and a savanna where miniature beasts race about. A desert with its own oasis--a massive scarab running amok, a regal castle he had painstakingly constructed with a pair of tweezers for a peacock no bigger than his thumb... He had even somehow managed to create a sleek building blinking blue lights and a crumbling chateau overrun with moss and bite-size bats.

His current project is a bowl of salt water, a layer of sand decorated with seaweed and coral at the bottom. He had taken the liberty of tucking fake jewels, a plastic treasure box, and a model of a sunken ship in.

For flair, he chuckles to himself. All that's left is to find proper aquatic specimens to house in it.

From the doorway, Jade adjusts the straps on his backpack, making sure that they're secure, that his supplies are in order. His boots laced, his jacket buttoned, he marches out the door and into the wilderness.

The forest is quiet and without trees but is not devoid of life.

Instead of trunks, there are stems--plump, pillowy, in various shades of white and cream. They are wider at the base and narrower at the head, which gives way to fluted undersides. Gills, Jade knows, a very different kind than those of a merman.

The air is clean and refreshing, lightly washed with spores. Not visible to the naked eye, but at the right refractions of sunlight, Jade can see them dancing into shapes upon the wind.

Circular shadows are cast across the ground, belonging to the caps that tower far above him. Mushrooms--macro-sized--have taken over the feet of the mountain, making it a suitable hideout for his hobbies. Sunlight spills through the cracks between the clustered caps, forming golden pools along the forest floor.

Jade makes a game of hopping upon them, one by one.

It isn't long before he comes upon the stream that cuts through the heart of the wood. A thin and humble little thing, able to be crossed in a single stride of his long legs.

Jade drops his backpack and drops to one knee. He inspects the fresh water up close with a careful eye. It's clear and still at the edges, white and foamy in the center, where it flows the fastest.

His heart leaps when he sees it--a streak of silver darting by.

He kicks off his footwear and rolls his pants up, silently stepping into the stream. Jade is cautious about not splashing, to avoid making noises or movements as that would disturb the wildlife.

He stands there, watching. Waiting, waiting, for that next fish to pass.

He thinks he sees it, a glimmer laid deep in the water. He reaches for it, fingers grazing wetness, but does not complete the grab.

“You like that, don’t you? The feeling of being in control, a life dancing in your palm,” a musical voice rings out. “It grants you security, assuredness.”

His eyes flicker down. His reflection shifts in the churning water, but he can see its mouth moving when his doesn’t.

An obstacle—amusing.

Jade purses his lips into a patient smile. “Oya, does a pixie presume to know those who visit their forest?”

“I am no pixie. In this pool of tears, all is laid bare,” his reflection says, “and given truth.”

“You claim to speak the truth. If that is the case, then you take no issue with divulging sensitive state secrets?” Jade’s smile grows, turning sharp. “To demonstrate your veracity, of course. I do not intend to misuse the information.”

“I know that you lie as easily as you breathe,” the pool replies, “for I have knowledge of only the souls that gaze into me.”

“A shame. I was quite curious about your awe-inspiring powers. Alas, there are limits put on greatness. It appears as though a puddle can never match the ocean in size nor in bounty.”

His reflection is not irked by his needling. “If you wish to take, then you must offer up a piece of yourself of equal value.”

“You have said that I lie as easily as I breathe. Is the word of a liar worth its salt?”

“You must speak truthfully.”

“But if I am a liar, and you have assumed my appearance, does that not, by proxy, make you a liar as well? That means what was uttered earlier is a lie, and I must tell an untruth—which I have already provided.”

The reflection pauses, considering the logic. Slow horror dawns on its expression—stolen from him—and it glowers.

"Liar," the reflection bitterly spits. It vanishes into the frothing waters.

There's a sigh, then the shudder of a release that fills the forest of mushrooms. Something, somewhere, has shattered.

Silver fills the clear stream, coloring it one shiny, metallic shade. Fins and scales bat against his skin. Healthy, plentiful.

Jade plunges an arm elbow-deep, and--

He gasps.

Something latches onto his arm and violently tugs. He's brought face-to-face with his own shocked expression, droplets hissing at him.

The stream, Jade realizes, should not be this deep.

He resists, trying to throw his body weight back, but the force holds tight. The slimy grip tightening like a fist.

He does not to fully relish in the surprise, so rare a feeling for him, before there is another strong pull. Jade falls forward, eyes wide as the water hits him in full.

Slowly, slowly... he finds himself sinking into an abyss.

It's the sea, deep and dark, shrouded by black mist. A ship-shaped shadow looms, at the inky depths--and through holes punched in the hull, undiscovered treasures wink up at him. Chests of forgotten gold and gems, like stars blinking in and out of view.

He dangles, suspended, like a puppet left upon the stage that has closed for the night. The scene, the stands, empty, save for the vague shapes of coral and twisting tendrils of seaweed.

Something shifts among the plants, and Jade tenses, preparing for a fight.

A long shape darts by, and his gaze tracks. The markings on it glow teal, peering through the murk--he recognizes it at once, relaxing.

"Floyd."

The name bubbles up and breaks upon the surface of the stream.

His twin circles him, his weaving tail sending Jade's jacket billowing. One is in the body of a human and the other, in their true form.

Floyd wordlessly grins, showing teeth like knives.

Behind him, the shadows swirl--a mess of writhing, squishy limbs and agonized moans. Tentacles, tentacles, painting a canvas with darkness.

A voice calls from somewhere in the void.

Floaty, far away.

"... de....... ade..."

"Jade!!"

He snaps awake, drawing in a deep gulp of air. As if he had just arisen from a dive.

Jade is seated at his workbench, blanked on either side. "Floyd, Azul..."

"We came as you had instructed, but it appears that now is not a good time," his dorm leader remarks. "You were sleeping like a log when we arrived."

"So I smashed a window with a rock and we let ourselves in!" Floyd declares proudly. Azul casts him a wary look.

"Just so you are aware, I am not to be held accountable for any damages incurred," he says hastily. "It was entirely Floyd's idea--I warned him against it and had him sign a liability form to assume any and all fees, should he ignore my advice and proceed with his ill-advised plot."

"Pfft." Jade chuckles. "My apologies. I must have become so enraptured in my project that I neglected to maintain a proper sleep schedule. The fault is mine, so I will not press charges."

Azul sighs, relieved. "Now, back to the matter at hand. For what reason have you summoned us here today?"

"Ah, that." Jade holds up his fishbowl, beaming. "I wished to share this with you both."

"Mmm, what is it?" Floyd asks, peering into the container. His face comes out the other end of it stretched wide and distorted, like the result of a funhouse mirror. "Looks like just some water to me."

"Another terrarium, I suspect." Azul pushes up his glasses as he surveys the other containers on the work bench "I see, so you've made one each in the image of the dormitories at Night Raven College. This one must be Octavinelle."

He suddenly frowns.

"Wait a minute, what is this?!" Azul thrusts a finger at a round little octopus suctioned to the inside of the bowl. The area around it is clouded with wisps of black.

"Hehehe, looks like Jade was right on the money with this one. That's so you, Azul."

"I-It is NOT!!"

"Really?" Jade's brows lift. "As I recall, you were exactly like this, tears and all, when..."

"AAAAAAAAH, stop, stooooop!! D-Don't say it, I can't bear that!!"

Jade laughs--soft and musical--granting his wailing dorm leader that single mercy. His chest is warm and full, a feeling his lies don't come close to.

I believe I’ve found myself company that is much more entertaining than any world right at my fingertips.

It’s his truth, the only one he has told this entire time.

[sepublic]

No but the way Pucci being Christian is so intertwined with his motives as a villain... He’s every story I’ve heard of the Christian convert who suffered something horrible and senseless, and after drifting through life lost and without a sense of purpose, found hope by believing in God. He’s so many stories of tragedy I’ve seen where people managed to cope by finding peace in the idea that this is all part of God’s divine, incomprehensible plan; It’s fate, it’s his will, and by accepting it they can move on. It’s for a reason, even if they’ll never understand what they’re looking at.

That’s what Heaven is for Pucci; His core trauma is a series of horrific coincidences with no rhyme or reason, and so he latches onto the idea that it’s all part of “his” plan, God and/or DIO’s. That’s why he finds comfort in knowing the future, knowing it’s all in the hands of Fate and removing his own blame and agency, which is why the narrator asks the viewer to judge for ourselves who did wrong, when we see the backstory of Wes, Enrico, and Perla. Pucci made a decision and it backfired horribly, so he doesn’t want to choose anymore.

It’s the way Pucci’s desire to be the messianic hero screws him over and causes tragedy; He’s so devoted to his position as a priest that rather than sabotaging it in order to just tell Perla the truth to her face (thus breaking the rules of the confessional), Pucci relies on this roundabout method so he can have it both ways, only to cause heartbreak and death. Pucci is so desperate to save humanity to make up for his own guilt and failure that he resets the universe, making him the worst kind of evil in his brother’s eyes; One totally oblivious to its nature. Pucci begs to die a martyr from Weather Report and Emporio, rather than just dying here and now.

Ungalo and Rikiel are prepared to die for Pucci once he gives them a sense of purpose to all of the inexplicable misfortune in their lives; Versus is also emboldened by this realization, but chooses to weaponize it for himself. The sons of DIO are people who all went through misfortune their whole lives, they’re ‘children of God’ who find comfort in devoting themselves to something they can actually believe in, that they believe will take care of them in some way; Like many Christians following the path of God, believing Heaven is waiting for them at the end of the tribulation and that it will all be worth it, that it all meant something and mattered and served a cause, like them. 

Pucci and the sons of DIO can no longer bear the pain and uncertainty of moving forward, so they aspire, Pucci especially, for a world where fate will move things along for them. They don’t have to take the first step, especially not Pucci, when Made in Heaven’s reset will compel him and everyone else to do what’s fated, regardless of what they try. 

Pucci fears and admires the courage of the Joestars who are able to step forward and face fate, engage and grapple with it, rather than just blindly accept and surrender in despair. If Diavolo precedes Pucci as someone too resistant of fate, Pucci is the opposite; Someone too resigned to it. Unlike the Joestars who know their fate but can work with what’s written in stone to change the other details. 

It’s why Pucci admires the first human to try a mushroom despite knowing it could kill them; But rather than put in the effort to get up to their level, Pucci would rather everyone stoop to his own, and claims he’s just sparing people noble yet needless pain (He’s only sparing himself by avoiding the reminder that he could and should be braver than this). He says he pities the human who tried a mushroom, adding that they were probably only motivated by hunger and desperation, and had no choice anyway.

I think Pucci is secretly envious of that courage, and that’s why he always downplays it afterwards by suggesting it’s foolishness rather than bravery. Pride, Envy, Wrath... Sloth given his despair, and a bit of Greed with the $800 dollar pants. Then there’s the BDSM vibes of Whitesnake for Lust, all that’s missing is Gluttony, which I guess the cherries and being devoured by the Green Baby account for...?

In all seriousness, Pucci wants guidance; He surrenders himself to God, follows the instructions led by DIO, and relies on Fate to tell him what to do when Made in Heaven resets the universe. Remember that time Pucci got around his brother’s Heavy Weather by removing his sight, and forcing Anasui to guide him? Yeah.

There’s a reason why Whitesnake obsesses with preserving the past, and I think part of it boils down to Pucci being afraid of its counterpart the Future; Which Made in Heaven, not entirely unlike King Crimson, allows Pucci to speed through and glimpse, to get through the worst of it ASAP and lessen the pain. He doesn’t want to accept that sometimes things just… happen.

[mamamittens]

Fun little headcanons before bed that I've had on my mind for a while.

How would (X) handle you not being able to look/talk to them because you think they're too pretty?

(it's me, I can't look and talk to people I think are really pretty. Don't look at me with your pretty eyes damnit 😭)

Marco

Now, quite reasonably, Marco is going to assume you're just intimidated (and he's not... Wrong???) And give you space. This is assuming you're on the same ship and prone to running into each other otherwise he wouldn't need to think about it much at all.

This does get troublesome when time doesn't fix the issue. Unless he's your direct commander it just gets... Frustrating. Sure you're not together all the time but he gets a bit tired of being treated like he has the plague. Eventually, he's going to confront you about hating him.

Only to be baffled by how you're studiously avoiding eye contact. And you're blushing madly. And can't seem to string together sentences.

Oh.

Now, he gets a little mean. Screw him. He thought you hated his guts for the longest time. He milks it a little, just enough to see you sweat that he's definitely onto you. But if it approaches real anxiety or fear he takes a step back and handles it differently. He doesn't want you to be uncomfortable after all.

Ends up having a small but genuine conversation with your backs to each other.

Afterwards, he's preening to himself.

You really thought he was so damn pretty you couldn't talk to him.

Luckily, he thinks you're pretty cute too.

Ace

Immediately assumes you hate him totally and completely. So much so that it takes some time for people to figure out who's avoiding whom. And it takes even longer for someone to convince Ace that there's something going on. But once that idea is planted in his head he's going to worry over it. Constantly. It will literally haunt him.

He needs answers.

He's going in a tad aggressive, demanding answers so he can make peace with the obvious truth that you hate him. Getting pissed off that you won't look at him--clearly you're disgusted by him. Fuck, can't you at least have the balls to say it to his face??? What's he gotta do to get you to admit how much you hate him?

Then he sees how hard your blushing, face hot as you hide behind your hands. And he assumes that he's effectively been bullying you and maybe you don't hate him but clearly you're terrified of him (so close yet so far...)

So now he's apologizing, getting all worked up himself because now you definitely have to hate him! He's just going to... Go now. Sorry...

It's only when his back is turned that you can string together a response to explain that he's too pretty to handle.

It's a solid two minutes before he can think again, he's so fucking thrown by your explanation. Turning on instinct before remembering the problem so he hides his face in his hat, which is great cause his face is bright enough to function as a lighthouse.

Face now hidden behind a hat he gets to the bottom of it. He's... Absolutely baffled and almost doesn't believe you but the sheer awkwardness is convincing enough on its own.

Now he's got a new problem.

How does he get you used to his face so he can see your cute face himself whenever he wants?

Thatch

Immediately he wants to solve the issue. He may not know what it is but he certainly isn't a shrinking violet! It's actually kind of impressive how persistent he is given your determination to not be confronted with him in person. He constantly laments that he can't hold a conversation with you now matter how hard he tries! That you always end up running from him--he's not that rough looking is he? Is it the hair? Please don't be the hair he might actually cry

Finally, after turning in some favors, he essentially corners you. Turning up the charm (oh sweet summer child that is not helping) to talk through this little issue between you. But! You're not looking at him! How will you know he's being sincere if you can't see his face?!?

And hey... You're looking kinda flushed you good? Are you sick?

He goes in to coddle you a little and is startled at the dying sound that slips out, your hand immediately covering your face in sheer embarrassment.

Oh... Oh?!? OH?!?!

He wastes no time preening to himself, instantly figuring it out while asking if there's anything he can do to make it easier to talk (batting his eyes like a nerd). You're so damn cute he pulls you in for a hug while laughing a bit.

All those plans for nothing! You didn't hate him not were you scared of him (sorta).

Looks like he's gotta make new plans so he can see more of your cute reactions for himself.

Now imma pass out for work in... 5 hours lol, no wonder I sleep for 17 hours on the weekend, yikes 😬

[harleyquilt]

Reaperneki x Touka ficlet - Wanting More

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rain is cold against Kaneki's skin. Water droplets are speckled across the lenses of his glasses, obscuring his vision. He takes them off and wipes them with his thumb, smearing the water across the glass. His eyes flick up and he watches the cafe from afar, its windows a warm orange glow against the dark, damp dredges of the city surrounding it. Surrounding her.

It has been some time since he last saw Touka, and back then, he had not yet regained his memories. Still, something must've stirred within Haise’s subconscious; despite Haise’s initial eagerness, his visits to the cafe grew less frequent over time. He kept finding more and more excuses to avoid seeing her, and by the time Kaneki broke through the facade that was Haise’s existence, it had already been several weeks since he last visited the cafe. Haise had done him a favour, in a sense, by reinforcing the distance between him and Touka.

It was for the best in the end, Kaneki thinks, wanting to believe his actions to be a necessary evil. Still, Kaneki can't help but think it cowardly. Pathetic, even. He tries to convince himself that Touka cared little on the matter, that his presence was nothing more than a nuisance she was forced to tolerate, but he knew that wasn't entirely true. Touka is kind, and because of that kindness, he knows that deep down, it must pain her to watch him turn his back to her once again. But it is for the best, Kaneki silently asserts, forcing aside his swelling doubts. 

How many people has he turned his back to throughout his life? His friends, companions, family, all cruelly entrapped by the twisting, thorny branches that make up his life, only to be tossed aside, abandoned, left to lick their bleeding wounds that he has inflicted onto them. It would have been better if they were never involved in his life to begin with. But he's weak, and because he's weak, he can't help reaching out, hoping that someone, anyone, will take hold of his hand and pull him back to their side and shield him from the horrors that make up this world. Maybe if he wasn't the way he was, if he had the strength needed to protect them, his companions wouldn't be as pained as they are now. Except he's not strong, he has never been strong, and he never will be, no matter his attempts to remedy this weakness of his. His pitiable existence is nothing more than a trap to those he cares for – a truth he can no longer deny or ignore. It would have been better if he had never existed at all, but there's no use wishing for something so infallible. He must take responsibility, this much he knows for certain, so he'll stay far, far away from Touka and all the others before he can hurt them any further. Only then will he be able to repay them the way he has always intended, without the hesitance and fear that always held him back before.

Turning his glasses between his hands, Kaneki begins to turn away from the cafe, from Touka, before hearing the door to the cafe open. He looks back, wide-eyed, and watches Touka step out with another man. The man holds an umbrella over Touka while she lifts and folds the blackboard sign displayed at the front of the shop. They're smiling, talking amicably, like they're old friends. Kaneki's body tenses, glaring at the man, whose eyes shine with a recognisable fondness. No, in the eyes of this man, this stranger, he could be more than her friend, and she humours him, giggling at his unfunny remarks and indulging his dull talk about the weather. Kaneki's jaw clenches and his hands tighten into fists, crushing his glasses between his fingers. There's a rush of violent intent that swarms his mind, knowing that if he wanted, he could incapacitate this stranger with little effort. He looks down at his broken glasses and squeezes his eyes shut. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and he leans back against the wall, slowly opening his eyes.

Seeing Touka smile, there's a familiar pang in his heart. Who was he to interfere, after hurting her time and time again? He should be relieved to see her smile, to see someone comfort her in a way he could not. He was selfish for yearning for what he did not deserve, even if just for a moment, and it pained Kaneki to know this. He clasps his head, gripping his hair with his fist, wishing to silence these tormenting thoughts. 

But he's then brought to a pause when he sees the stranger lean over Touka, one arm against the wall. She leans back, avoiding his eyes, and begins to step back. He reaches forward and grabs her arm, and almost instantly, Kaneki rushes forward, ready to snap the man's neck. Any hesitancy he felt before has dissipated the moment the man touched her, insulting Touka with his defiling touch. And just when Kaneki closes the gap between him and the two others, he watches Touka grab the man's wrist and twist it back, the bones creaking under Touka's firm grip. 

“Back off.” She says in a low, threatening tone. 

She shoves the man back, letting go. He stumbles backwards and bumps into Kaneki. The man turns, teary-eyed, only to find a dark-clad Kaneki looming over him, his sharp glare promising a painful end. With a yelp, he runs away from Touka and Kaneki, cradling his wrist. Kaneki keeps his eyes on the man, following his figure before it disappears around the next corner. He contemplates chasing the man and dragging him back to beg for Touka’s forgiveness, but before he could do anything else, Touka begins to speak.

“Kaneki…?” 

Kaneki flinches. The rain intensifies and they're soon drenched, though neither dares move, as if time has suspended for them both. Kaneki turns his head slightly, acknowledging her while avoiding her heavy gaze. He already feels smothered by its weight, by the fragile apprehension in her voice, by the frightened stillness in her body. Regret washes over him, mixing with the thick, heavy droplets of rain running down his cheeks. 

“Kaneki.” Her voice is firm now, unhesitant, sharply cutting through the loud static of the rain. “It’s you, right?” 

What should he say? What can he say, after everything they've been through? After everything he's done to her? It would be easy to say no, that he was Haise Sasaki, the investigator she has come to know these past few months. She’d accept his lie, regardless of whether she believed him or not, and they’d part, pretending nothing has changed. But for some reason, he could not bring himself to do it – not while she’s watching him and calling him by his name. All he can muster is a small, solemn nod. 

“Right.” She scoffs, her eyes downcast. “You better come in.” 

She walks back into the cafe and Kaneki, wavering for a moment, follows her inside. Its warm, cosy interior welcomes him along with the familiar aroma of roasted coffee. He winces, haunted by the fond memories of his distant past. They flood his mind with bittersweet reminders of the days he spent amongst those he cares for, smiling happily, and ignorant of the grim future awaiting him. It sends a wave of nausea through him, clutching and twisting his stomach into knots.

“You look pale.” Touka remarks, eyeing him. “Coffee?” 

“Touka-chan, I–” His tongue feels uncomfortably heavy in his mouth. 

She shakes her head, walking around the counter. “It's fine.” She pours coffee into two cups. Her eyes flick up, meeting his, and she holds his longing gaze. “Really, it's fine.”

“No,” he strides up to the counter and leans his palms flat against it. “It's not.” 

She smiles, then, shrugging her shoulders and tilting her head to one side. “You worry too much. Here, this will help.” 

She pushes forward his coffee before taking a sip of her own. She steps back and leans against the wall behind her, cupping the mug in her hands. Kaneki sighs, defeated, and he pulls the cup towards him. He turns the cup between tentative fingers, staring down at his warped reflection in the coffee. He squeezes his eyes shut and turns away. What is he doing here?

“It looks like you've got all your memories back.” Touka says, breaking the silence. 

Kaneki's body prickles with anxious dwelling, wishing he hadn't crumbled the moment she said his name. How could he not, hearing the pain that taints her sweet voice – a subtle waver in her tone that betrays the hurt she truly feels. 

“Do you remember everything?” Touka continues before taking another sip.

Kaneki hesitates. “Yeah.” He nods, helpless under her watching eyes. “I remember it all.” 

She nods in turn, tilting her chin up. “And yet, you're still a Dove.” Kaneki winces. “Though…you look more like a crow to me. You stick out like a sore thumb, honestly. Are you trying to make a fashion statement?”

Kaneki can't help but smile at her casual jabs, teasing him as if nothing has changed. His grip tightens around the cup, his wry smile shifting to a tight frown. What is he doing here? 

“Yeah, I'm still…” His voice trails off. 

“I see.” Touka steps forward and places her cup aside. She leans forward, resting her elbows against the counter. Kaneki looks up, his throat tightening. “I won't ask you for your reasons. I'm sure you have plenty.” She averts her eyes then, grimacing. “I don't really want to hear them, in any case. I don't want this to turn into another argument.” 

“Touka-chan…”

“You should finish your coffee and leave.” Touka turns to leave, offering him a hollow smile. “Don't worry, your secret is safe with me.” 

He watches her walk towards the door and for some unknown reason, something within him pushes him to his feet and has him reach out to grab her, his hand around her wrist. She looks back, bewildered, and before she can say anything, Kaneki pulls her into his arms, wrapping them tightly around her. Pressed against his body, Touka's eyes widen, a pang of aching bittersweetness making her eyes water. 

She’s still at first, and Kaneki wonders if she is going to push him away and ridicule him for his disgusting actions. It’s what she should do, he thinks, even while continuing to hold her, feeling her breathe unsteadily against him. But after a moment of silence, she slowly, cautiously raises her arms before hugging him back, her hands clutching onto his damp coat. His heart skips a beat and he feels almost overwhelmed by the warmth of her body as she leans further into his hold, the tension in her body gradually unravelling. He’s surprised, but does not let go, embracing her tenderly.

Holding her like this, as close as they are, is a sensation he has rarely felt before, and shutting his eyes, he can almost imagine their souls merging together and drifting far, far away from the cruel reality of their lives, to a place where they can exist peacefully as one. All the fear, anguish, and uncertainty that clouds his mind ceases with each passing second, as if her mere presence is enough to wash away all that haunts him in his day-to-day life. He could easily stay like this forever, existing purely for this moment, but Touka soon speaks, cutting through his wishful thinking.

“Kaneki…” Her voice is quiet now, unsteady, and he squeezes her, gritting his teeth. She sounds so heartbreakingly sad. She takes a deep breath and forces out her next question, bringing an end to the tranquillity they had shared. “Why are you here?”

He tenses, eyes opening and breath hitching. It is a question he does not want to answer, but her words echo through his mind, and more and more, he can feel his resolve crumbling, the doubt creeping back in. It quickly suffocates the dwindling joy that encapsulated this moment between him and Touka, pushing aside all that brought him comfort a moment ago. The truth is that he should not be here, that this was all a mistake, and pulling away, Touka can see it on his face – the dreadful end to their sudden, short reunion. He holds her shoulders, still, hesitating to let go, but wiping unshed tears from her eyes, Touka holds his wrist and gives it a small squeeze. 

“You should go.” 

“I…” The words are lodged in his throat. He doesn’t know what to do or what to say, and he looks to Touka, paralysed. Seeing this, she smiles once more, a small, wry smile that assures him all will be okay, and lowering his eyes, Kaneki slips his hands away and steps back, feeling his own eyes water. “I’m sorry, Touka-chan. This–”

“Just go.” She shakes her head, an underlying urgency to her gentle words. “Before it’s too late.”

Grimacing, Kaneki turns away and leaves the cafe, forcing himself to abandon the warmth of the cafe in favour of the cold, dark world waiting just beyond. He hates himself for it, for making this decision he knows to be necessary, and walking through the rain, he lets the tears finally fall, knowing that he has left Touka to pick up the pieces of their broken hearts once again. And for that, he can never, ever forgive himself, even in death. He looks up to the sky, the raindrops mixing with his tears, and he wonders when he’ll be freed from this life of his. 

“Soon,” he murmurs, frowning, “Soon, it’ll all be over. I promise, Touka-chan.”

[yuukei-yikes]

(going through your harutaka tag) your latest comic paired with the arcade one from a while ago is making me feel normal about how takane and haruka view each others struggles post str.... ohhh they love each other so much but takane having a hard time seeing harukas disabilities for what they are because theyre different than what they once were and hes managing to cope to some degree (and also because haruka has historically been able to mask his own suffering right up to the point that its killing him and driving him to his breaking point as not to be a burden), and haruka wanting takane to be able to depend on him and be kinder to herself (with takane being unable to rather than unwilling to, and haruka struggling to push the point in a way that doesn't seem overly passive or accidentally dismissive of takanes very real struggles with feeling like a human person again) is so.... they're so everything to me... the scrimblebinks....

yeah i realized it was sort of a follow up or like adjacent to that arcade comic!! i'm glad u remembered it hehe harutaka makes me so crazy. ur exactly right. makes me so giddy and excited when people Get it because im like man if kagepro is "dead" then why do people get what i'm putting down SO WELL!!!!!!!!!!!

takane is so driven by emotion and like u said, haruka's so used to masking them, so it's ironic they clash when takane becomes avoidant and haruka becomes transparent. the thing with takane is that she is so used to being alone from her time as ene, and from highschool she's used to be the one fuzzing over haruka, she has a hard time grasping having someone be after her for once.

i wrote in this other post how i think haruka takes his whole thing, but basically, he's doing pretty okay for himself? obviously he still struggles, but i think he approaches it with a different feeling, given he's so thankful to get another chance/he wants to live right to konoha. and before this happened, he was already disabled. so even though he's accommodating to new things, he's already sort of familiar to the process, while takane's going through the realization she can't do a lot of things she used to take for granted. for haruka, having someone so close by who really truly understands what it's like, means a LOT. they've always been like that. in highschool haruka and takane barely even knew details of each others' illnesses, because they'd talk so little about them. takane says "it's some sort of heart disease. apparently it's serious" and haruka says "she has some kind of sleeping disorder, i guess it's serious enough to get her reassigned here with me" both mentioning they haven't asked each other for details. they're so used to that being the only thing people see about them, so meeting someone who Gets it and sees you past that, was really important for them both. so post str, for takane to dismiss him and say he doesn't "get it" because he's not "worse off than before" really stings!

but the truth still stands, if takane keeps just running away from it, and her body is left without doing her exercises, her meals and etc, then it's really a problem, because it'll make things even More difficult. and takane hates to know haruka's right. she doesn't want to lose her body again. haruka's right, takane needs to get it together and just stop running away. but takane's also right, it's pretty difficult to do that. and they both understand what the other's saying perfectly.

if you think about it, haruka and takane have a really funny thing in common, and it's the fact they both tend to blurt out whatever they're thinking. so i think this would help them talk things through pretty fast (though it also makes takane get defensive and say all that stuff, which is what usually starts the arguments, but she realizes instantly when the usually mild mannered haruka makes a face)

anyways discussing haruka and takane arguing made me remember i made this ship chart like 3 months ago. it's messy it wasn't made to meet ur eyes but now it's gonna so it's under the cut.

[specialagentlokitty]

Saul Silva x daughter!reader - burning bridges

Hi, could I request a Saul silva x daughter reader? Can she have shadow manipulation powers? - Anon💜

Standing in front of the mirror in the lounge, you turned to the side so you were able to pull your armour a little tighter so it would fit better.

There was a knock on your door and you glanced over.

“It’s open.”

You watched who walked through before you went back to putting your amour on.

“I never agreed to you coming on this mission.”

“Yeah, well it ain’t your call.”

Your dad sighed heavily, walking over to put your shoulder pads on for you despite the glare you had given him.

“Maybe not, but I’m still your father (Y/N). They should have asked me.”

“When will you give this up dad? Whether you agree to it or not I will still go on these missions. They have nobody else.”

“They can find other people!” He hissed.

You spun around, glaring harshly at him.

“Where?! Where the fuck do you expect them to find other fairies like me dad?! Huh?! I am the only one who can manipulate the shadows! The only one who can take out hordes of the burned ones!”

“You’re still a kid!”

You scoffed, grabbing your other shoulder pad to put it on, and you turned back to the mirror.

“Yeah, guess you forget that sometimes too huh?”

You secured it and walked over to your room, heading to the desk and you looked at the report that you were sent.

You picked it up, walking back out to the fire place and tossed it inside so your dad wouldn’t be able to track you.

You walked over and stood next to the light switch.

“(Y/N) you are not going on that mission.”

“You have no say in my affairs.”

You turned it off and he shouted your name, running over he turned it on but you were gone.

Sighing, Saul ran a hand down his face, looking at the fireplace.

There was no way he could get that paper now, it was long gone.

His relationship with you had been tense since you learned about what kind of powers that you had, a lot of people wanted you thrown out of the realm, calling your cursed.

You needed help trying to control them and he was so busy with Sky at the time he neglected to give you the help you needed.

You got hurt.

You blamed him for it, you always had.

Truth be told he blamed himself as well, and he was trying fix that, trying to make it better, but you wanted nothing to do with him now.

The Queen saw you as a force to be reckoned with, she wanted you to join her army where if you played your cards right you would fly through the ranks.

He didn’t want that.

He didn’t want you to be a solider is some army that wouldn’t give a shit about whether you died on one of their missions.

Saul marched back to his office, hoping he could find somebody to tell him exactly where you were sent.

Your mission was easy, you were to track down and take out a burned one that was getting a little to close to one of the cities.

It wasn’t exactly hard to track, leaving destruction in its wake was a good method of tracking.

When you found it that’s where things become a little more complicated.

Reaching into the shadows, you felt the coldness wrap around your hand before you pulled out two swords.

Grinning from ear to ear, you twisted them between your fingers.

You had the advantage of shadow manipulation, being able to move and jump through them, making avoiding the attacks aimed for you a lot easier.

Finally bribing it down after nearly an hour of fighting, you held your hand out, wrapping shadows around it, making the body vanish.

You didn’t want locals to worry about this, so you hid the body in your own shadow realm, planning on dumping it at a later date.

You took a few extra days, ensuring the surrounding area was clear before you returned to Alfea.

Heading back to your room, you hung your armour back on the stand by your desk.

You laid down on your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep, for somebody burdened with powers like yours, sleep was hard.

It was easier when you were a child, you had your dad looking out for you. Singing you that same song your mother used to sing when you couldn’t sleep.

Now you didn’t have that, so, you made your way outside to the specialist training ground in order to train instead.

You never realised that you weren’t the only one out there training, you didn’t know your dad was out there was well.

But he noticed you when you came out and he put his sword away.

You began to bend the shadows to your will, forcing them to take shape, surround you, do whatever it was that you wanted them to do.

In all the years of know what your powers were, this was the first time Saul was seeing them.

You had never showed him, never trained with him when he asked you too.

He had been so worried about your safety he never realised how strong you were, how capable.

You were so at peace, so relaxed, it was like you were at home, like nothing else in the world mattered.

Saul quietly made his way over.

“You’re good.”

You didn’t stop, but you did glance at him.

“Watching me now?”

Saul sighed, running a hand over his head.

“I’m sorry.”

You stopped what you were doing this time, looking at him.

“I mean it, I am so sorry (Y/N). I know I should have done right by you, I swore I was. I didn’t, and for that I’m sorry.”

“You think that makes everything better? Makes all the tears of choosing that bastards son over your own daughter just because I was cursed with these powers?”

He reached a hand out but you stepped away, the shadow of a sword forming in your hand as you aimed it at him.

Saul backed away, his hands raised in the air.

“No. No of course not.”

“You think after all these time I’ll just come running into your arms and we’ll play happy families? He is not my brother. He never was. Shit dad, you look after Bloom better than you do me and that girl doesn’t even belong with us!”

“She needs to learn control.”

“And I didn’t?! I shadow travelled myself to the damn roof when I was a kid by accident and nearly fell! I did the same thing into the park and sliced my leg open! You didn’t give a shit then!”

Saul ran his hand down his face, looking away before turning back to you.

“I did!”

“Did you fuck!”

You walked closer, placing the blade of your sword at his throat and he stayed still.

“I am only at Alfea to complete my course. Then I am going to join the queens army, I will leave, and you will never hear from me again.”

“I don’t want that! I never wanted that! You’re my daughter (Y/N), I just want to keep you safe. Do you really think they give a shit about what happens to you?!”

You shrugged a little, pulling your sword away.

“They give more of a shit than you ever did Saul.”

You barged past him back to your dorm.

Saul watched you leave, and you didn’t so much as spare him a single glance.

Saul didn’t know what to do, after all this time you wanted nothing to do with him.

You didn’t care if he was your dad or not, you didn’t care about family anymore.

You just wanted to hurt him, and it was working because watching his own daughter, his own flesh and blood be angry with him, so eager to leave tore him apart.

There wasn’t anything he could do about it either

[eldritch-spouse]

You swear you saw a glint of sadness in his expression. It might be presumptuous to ask but you feel the need to. Turning away from foraging for food, you look up at the god “Protector Saudramar, how has your day been going? You seem… lost in thought.”

He had been staring off for a while now, beyond the sea gently swaying before him, beyond his powers, dominions and virtues soaring dutifully through the skies. Saudramar looked past the clouds and saw the edges of Eden as the annex gently orbited Earth.

There's no words to describe the utter impotence he feels.

To be the pinnacle of perfection as a Protector yet desire so much more, know that he's capable of so much more but completely powerless to take his place amongst the great Fathers and Mothers. Born to see others fit into place like puzzle pieces while he's doomed to push against the walls of his cage.

Nothing he does can fill the void that's been growing in the siadar's very core. Every single day, boiling rage and vicious envy turn him into an increasingly sour shell of his former self. The pain of his own existence grows heavier on his weary shoulders and he retreats into his own mind to avoid putting those who have been entrusted to him at risk.

Most of these sentiments are unleashed in the great battles against Perdition and the Betrayer's growing forces. He has looked the first fiends in the face as he slayed their kin effortlessly, never a hint of fear to be found in his brilliant ocean eyes, just monumental hatred projected onto the abominations created by a rebel.

It was different, this time.

As he held one of those slithering, disgusting, deformed parodies of celestials- It had stared at him. In a way none had before.

It saw him. It saw the real him.

And the way that foul creature laughed in Saudramar's face made him pause.

You and Them are not so different.

It had rasped, bloodied and broken.

You live in the shadows of those that are inferior to you, as did They once.

Look at us now.

Saudramar couldn't kill it. He couldn't even process what was said to him in that moment. He launched the demonic lifeform into the bowels of its own degenerate annex and moved on. But those words, hissed through chipped teeth and a slithering tongue, held only truth, engraved themselves in his soul.

And the realization alone leaves a taste in the Protector's mouth he hasn't been able to wash off.

The Betrayer is a reflection of him.

The very things he's mercilessly slaughtering with others of his cast are no more than unauthorized creations, in an unauthorized annex, designed by a siadar who was also unhappy with their role in the universe.

Except, that one was strong enough to achieve a modicum of their vision, if only just for a glimpse in time. A window of self-fulfilment worth more than an entire existence of conformity.

What is he doing?

...

The sound of your soft voice has Saudramar snapping his gaze towards you, hardened stare gradually receding.

" Lesser. "

He has a complicated view of humanity. As much as he is unbelievably fond of your design, he's also of the opinion that this project was much too ambitious. The fruits of aimless impulse from Creators who, to him, have neither a plan nor a solution for the trouble your kind will eventually brew.

Alas, you are his favorite so far. Saudramar has witnessed many lessers be born and succumb to age, and not one was as captivating as you. He can't place what it is about you yet that's so appealing, but the Protector knows he'd like to keep you closer, the same way some other casts get to perform binding ceremonies with their favored.

You are his chosen.

But Saudramar won't burden you with that.

The god shakes his head.

" Fret not. Do you require my assistance? "

You smile, relieved. " No, my Lord. " There's a pause, you can clearly tell he's upset, and the siadar chides himself for displaying weakness like that to one of his entrusted.

" Was today's battle exhausting? "

He observes you forage idly.

" Never. Every day Perdition suffers the righteousness it deserves, and I am only fueled by its destruction. "

Saudramar squats when you look into his eyes. A pallid, beautiful hand reaches out, brushing over yours. One set of eyes studies the contrast, another keeps your attention on him.

" Not once shall the filth of the impure taint your sight. The land you step upon is under my protection, and harm will fall upon those who conceive of desecrating it. "

You hold onto his hand with both of yours, and Saudramar feels his chest blossom with a sensation that chases away the thunder in his soul for the briefest of moments.

" Can we cook for you tonight, Protector? " You offer, and Saudramar is thankful no one else is around to see the way he bleeds adoration through his stare.

" Of course, my lesser. "

He will have to hide you away from the seraphim this upcoming Spring, the though of you paired to another lesser is displeasing at best. None of the males here are of enough quality to impregnate you. You are exemplary, a perfect specimen.

Saudramar will protect you.

That's one thing he'll always be able to do, no matter what the future may bring.

" Now, finish. Night will fall soon. "

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Hey!! Thanks so much for writing my previous request! I'm so glad you liked it. I was quite nervous requesting it because I didn't know if you'd like the concept or if it would make sense or not but I'm really happy that you did. And I absolutely loved it!! Made me incredibly giddy to see that the prompt struck you! I'm wondering if you'd be open to me requesting another piece for Alfie using the general concept below? (Again, no pressure what so ever):

Alfie is a man that has had near death experiences several times throughout his life, but this time he thinks will be the last. That is until he feels himself being dragged across the cold cobblestone steps to the last place he'd ever think would be a safe haven for him.

Could this kind of be like where him and reader aren't exactly on amicable terms. It's a love/hate relationship (emphasis on the hate, lol). And when he asks why they saved him, they're just like: "didn't save you. Just prolonged your death. I told you before, no one has claim to kill you except for me."

Sorry if that didn't make too much sense. Basically a GN!Reader X Alfie Solomons enemies to (kinda) lovers but you sure as shit can't mess with the other, because that right is only reserved for them. "No one can kill you but me" are the vibes of their relationship.

(And if you don't mind, I'll use this as my identifier: 🥀.) Thanks again and I love, love, love your work ♥️!

- 🥀

Mine to Kill - Alfie Solomons x GN!Reader ONESHOT

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3120

Warnings: blood, stitching someone up

Summary: (The request)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I'm so happy you liked the last story. This was such a cute request, I love me some good ol' playful enemies to lovers. I'm so happy I'm able to identify you now! I look forward to more requests from you and everyone else. Hope you all enjoy 🥀💚

Alfie Solomons had waltzed with death on so many occasions that it felt as though he were an unwilling partner in a ceaseless, macabre dance. Every encounter with an enemy had etched its mark upon him, leaving deep scars not only on his body but on the recesses of his soul. The specter of death had become a relentless companion, its chilling fingers tracing the contours of his existence, staining it with a darkness that refused to fade. He had grown increasingly intimate with the concept of mortality, his dance with the reaper a relentless walts of agony and survival.

Yet, on this bitter, moonless night in Camden town,It was as if the universe itself had conspired to stage the conclusion of his life. The air was filled with an eerie stillness, the kind that precedes a storm. His blood flowed like a river unleashed from a dam, an unrelenting torrent from a vicious wound in his side. The bloodstains on the cobblestone steps formed a haunting picture, each drop a reminder of his unyielding struggle against a relentless destiny.

As he lay there, trapped in death's clutches, Alfie's reality shifted into a murky haze, where the lines between truth and illusion were as hazy as the fading memories of a man on the brink of the unknown. It was in this fragile moment, suspended between life and death, that his once-unshakable resolve, the very foundation upon which he had built his existence, flickered like a candle in the midst of a relentless storm.The boundary between his will to survive and the tempting embrace of surrender blurred, and doubt infiltrated his once unshakable self-assurance.

The looming darkness was unlike anything he'd ever known, its presence echoing with the ominous promise of an ending too final, too absolute to contemplate. Here, at this very moment, there was no escaping the inevitable, and Alfie could feel the cold breath of death, its embrace closing in, a meeting he could no longer avoid. It was the eternal silence that called to him, an abyss that left no room for defiance.

Struggling for each labored breath, Alfie's thoughts raced through the haze of pain, a singular name repeating in his mind like a mantra. Y/n. Their connection was a puzzle, a relentless source of frustration that had left them perpetually at odds. But amidst the chaos of the moment, as life teetered on the precipice, he couldn't deny the conviction that she would be the one to aid him, as contradictory as their relationship had always been.

Alfie was aware of the aggressive dynamic that had plagued their relationship for years. Their history was marked not by tender moments, but by the bitter taste of blood and the sting of betrayal. They were no strangers to confrontation; it seemed like every encounter ended with the exchange of harsh words or even harsher blows. Yet, beneath the layers of animosity and hostility, there was an inexplicable connection that both frustrated and mystified him. It was a connection he couldn't quite put into words, a magnetic pull that drew them together in their most volatile moments.

As he lay there, fading in and out of consciousness, Alfie found himself yearning to see the reader one last time. It was an inexplicable desire, considering the countless times they had been at each other's throats, and the disdain that had characterized their interactions. But in this desperate moment, he couldn't help but wish for a final encounter, a chance to unravel the enigma that was their relationship. Perhaps in that ultimate confrontation, he would finally understand the complex web of emotions that had kept them bound together, a love-hate bond that transcended reason and defied explanation.

The cobblestone under him seemed to vibrate with the approaching footsteps, but Alfie couldn't be sure if it was the real world or a fevered dream playing tricks on his battered senses. Everything appeared in blurred fragments, a distorted reality that left him questioning the very existence of the shadowed figure that loomed over him.

His groggy consciousness barely registered the arrival, and a voice, cool and unfeeling, echoed above him. It conveyed disappointment, a palpable sense of something having gone awry, but there was no hint of surprise. The voice seemed to hang in the air, an ominous punctuation to his dire situation. 

"Uh, shit..." The voice spoke.

Alfie could barely hear them, the words slurred and fragmented. It was as if the world had tilted on its axis, and he had been thrust into a surreal nightmare where nothing was certain, not even the identity of the enigmatic presence that had dragged him from the brink of oblivion.

Alfie's senses were jolted as he felt his body being lifted off the unforgiving floor. It was a moment of profound disorientation, where the boundary between life and death blurred into obscurity. He couldn't discern whether it was the cold grip of death or the desperate strength of another person that held him aloft.

As he dangled in the hazy threshold of consciousness, Alfie's ears caught the sound of a struggle, the grunts and shuffles of someone grappling with the weight of his imposing frame. The voice that accompanied the struggle, tinged with irritation and a touch of begrudging admiration, cut through the disorienting fog that enveloped him.

"You big bastard," the words were growled out, spoken by someone who seemed simultaneously exasperated by the burden they were shouldering and oddly proud of their own audacity. It was a phrase that seemed to encapsulate the entirety of their complex relationship, where contempt and grudging respect danced on the knife's edge, much like the precarious balance between life and death that Alfie now found himself in.

Agony pulsed through every fiber of Alfie's being as his body protested the movement, and his head throbbed mercilessly as he was gingerly lifted from the harsh floor and placed onto a plush couch. The world around him remained a blur, but gradually, the mist lifted, revealing his surroundings. It was unmistakably Y/n's workshop, a place of mystery and ingenuity, and an unexpected haven for someone like him.

As his vision cleared, a spark of comfort surged through his heart. He could see the enigmatic figure approaching once more, their presence a reassuring beacon in the midst of his disorienting ordeal.

"Well, hello, darling," Alfie's voice emerged as a slurred drawl, his signature cockiness managing to persist even in his vulnerable state.

His gaze fixed upon them, a mixture of appreciation and something deeper, an emotion he couldn't quite put into words. The connection between them, the push and pull of their tumultuous history, was something that defied logic, but in that moment, it was a lifeline he clung to with a strange sense of gratitude.

Even in the haze that clouded his vision, Alfie could discern the unmistakable signs of irritation etched across Y/n's face. The furrowed brow, the narrowing of their eyes – it was a silent but vivid testament to their exasperation.

"Who did you fucking piss off this time, Solomons?" they demanded, their voice tinged with a mix of exasperation and a hint of genuine concern. The history between them had been fraught with clashes, but there was an undeniable thread of connection that bound them together, and it was in moments like these that it became evident, lurking beneath the layers of frustration.

A faint, wry smile tugged at the corners of Alfie's lips as he admitted, his words a mumbled confession, "Uh... who bloody knows, yeah." He genuinely couldn't recall the specifics of the latest debacle that had brought him to the brink of death. It was as if his life had been a never-ending cycle of chaos and conflict, a whirlwind that left him perpetually disoriented.

Y/n's frustration softened for a moment, replaced by a peculiar mixture of amusement and exasperation. It was a dance they had performed many times before, a tango of clashing personalities and insurmountable history. And yet, in that moment, there was an unspoken understanding that transcended words, a connection that defied the chaos that surrounded them.

Y/n's sigh was heavy with the weight of their shared history, an exasperated breath that spoke of the countless times they had found themselves in these predicaments. With a careful grace that contrasted sharply with the frustration they felt, they crouched down beside Alfie.

Alfie observed their every move, his vision clearing as they worked. In their capable hands, they held a pair of scissors, glinting menacingly in the dim light of the workshop. With deliberate precision, Y/n cut through the fabric of Alfie's shirt, baring his battered body to the cool air of the workshop. It was a vulnerable moment, one that was laden with an odd mix of intimacy and tension, as Y/n's actions conveyed a silent promise to save him once more from the brink of death.

"Fucking hell, Solomons, you're a proper mess," Y/n muttered, their tone a mixture of concern and exasperation as they assessed the extent of the massive wound on Alfie's side. It was a gruesome sight, and even they couldn't help but wince at the severity of it.

Alfie, never one to miss a beat, managed a raspy laugh despite the searing pain that coursed through his body. "No different from what you've done to me," he quipped, a crooked smile playing on his lips before it dissolved into a fit of coughing and wheezing, each painful breath serving as a testament to the brutal existence they shared.

Y/n carefully poured a bowl of water, their movements deliberate and steady. They selected a clean cloth and dipped it into the cool liquid before gingerly placing it against the wound. The cloth's touch brought a searing sensation, and Alfie clenched his teeth to stifle any signs of weakness. The area around the injury was inflamed, and each cleansing stroke sent an intense sting shooting through him.

Alfie's jaw tightened, his eyes squinting against the pain. He refused to show any sign of vulnerability. It was an unspoken rule between them - an understanding that they could hurt each other in countless ways, but showing weakness was not an option.

Y/n's unwavering focus was palpable in the air. With a calm and methodical demeanor, they retrieved a gleaming needle and carefully sterilized it by passing it through the flickering flame of a lit candle. The sharp, metallic needle glowed briefly before it was ready for use, a testament to their meticulous care.

Next, they selected a spool of sturdy thread, their nimble fingers expertly looping and securing the ends. With practiced precision, they began to stitch Alfie up. The needle pierced his skin with surprising ease, each stitch closing the gaping wound. It was a delicate dance between the needle and thread, an act of healing that defied the brutality of their history.

Alfie couldn't help but admire their skill, even as the pain pulsed through him. Their hands were steady, and their concentration unbroken, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade, leaving only the bond between them and the gentle cadence of the needle as it wove its way through his skin.

With a careful hand, Y/n applied a soothing ointment to the freshly stitched wound. The cool, medicinal balm brought a sense of relief, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Alfie's tense expression relaxed just slightly. It was a brief respite in the midst of their tumultuous existence.

As they leaned back and examined Alfie's form, it was impossible to deny the stark reality. He did look half-dead, his pallor ashen, and his features etched with exhaustion. The wounds on his body told the tales of countless battles, both won and lost. It was a poignant reminder of the price they paid for the life they led, where danger lurked around every corner, and survival was often a matter of sheer luck and resilience.

Alfie's gaze shifted toward Y/n, his one good eye studying them intently. Despite his battered state and limited vision, he found himself unable to look away, an unspoken admiration for them welling up within him.

In that moment, he saw them in a new light. Their determination, their skill, and their unwavering commitment to his survival were nothing short of extraordinary. Alfie was no stranger to the rough and unforgiving world they both navigated, and it was often a place where trust was scarce. Yet, here was Y/n, the one person who could claim the right to his life, saving him once more.

He couldn't help but feel a surge of respect, a sense of gratitude that transcended the complexities of their relationship. It was an unspoken acknowledgment that, despite their many battles, they shared a bond that defied the odds and kept them bound together.

Summoning every ounce of strength he had left, Alfie managed to find his voice, his words punctuated by a mixture of agony and exasperation. "Why in God's name did you save me?" he demanded, his voice a barely audible whisper, but his frustration was palpable.

In the dimly lit workshop, their eyes met, an unspoken challenge passing between them. The question hung in the air, laden with the weight of their complicated history. It was a question that cut to the core of their relationship, a puzzle neither of them had ever quite managed to solve.

The reader's eyes, devoid of any warmth, locked onto his, their icy gaze holding him captive. Their voice, as cold as the steel of a blade, sliced through the tense silence. "I didn't save you," they declared, their words sharp and unforgiving, as they leaned in closer. "I simply postponed your inevitable death. I’ve told you countless times, Alfie," they continued with a cruel smile, "no one, absolutely no one, has the right to end your life except for me." 

The words hung in the air like an unbreakable decree, the chilling declaration of their twisted connection. It was a bond neither of them could fully comprehend, a love-hate relationship that defied all logic and left them entangled in a web of obsession and power.

Despite the bitterness that flavored their words, Alfie couldn't help but detect the undertones of twisted comfort and possessiveness woven into the tapestry of their relationship. With a cocky grin that seemed at odds with his battered state, he locked eyes with them.

"Jealous that someone else almost had the pleasure of taking me out?" he taunted, his words carrying a note of mischief amidst the pain. It was a twisted form of banter that they had perfected over the years, one that spoke to the strange bond between them. In that moment, as the workshop's shadows deepened around them, their connection was as undeniable as it was enigmatic.

Y/n shot back with a sardonic grin, their tone dripping with sarcasm as they began tidying up the makeshift operating area. "You bloody well know it," they retorted, their movements efficient and deft.

Alfie couldn't resist the opportunity for a playful jab. "Don't worry, love... I'm saving myself for you," he quipped, a devilish glint in his eye.

Their banter took an unexpected turn when Y/n, wearing an incredulous expression, couldn't resist poking at the newly stitched wound, causing Alfie to grimace in pain. "You are so bloody obsessed with me," they accused, a mixture of exasperation and amusement coloring their words.

Alfie met their accusation with a half-offended look. "And why the fuck would you think that?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

Y/n chuckled, their eyes locking onto his. "Come on, Solomons, you practically passed out on my doorstep. Your ass dragged yourself here," they pointed out with a shake of their head. "You're completely and utterly obsessed with me." It was a statement that held a strange kind of truth, one that neither of them could deny.

Amid the playful tension, Alfie's mind was flooded with flashback. The clashes, the power struggles, and those rare moments of begrudging understanding flickered like fragmented images in his mind. In those recollections, he couldn't help but acknowledge that, despite their vehement denials and ceaseless battles, they were undeniably linked by something enigmatic.

They were like two fierce elements in nature, forces of destruction and creation, forever locked in a volatile dance that defied easy categorization. Their connection was a riddle with no solution, a puzzle they could never fully solve, and yet it was the essence of what defined their relationship - a captivating enigma that kept them eternally entwined, two halves of the same turbulent whole.

A glimmer of levity broke through the intensity of their exchange. "You're mine, sunshine," Y/n quipped, their words laced with an odd affection.

Alfie's chuckle was a rare, genuine sound amidst the tension that usually enveloped them. "Fucking looks that way," he said with a half-smile, their shared history and complex connection making the playful banter all the more intriguing. The words, though lighthearted, held a deeper truth about the inexplicable bond that tied them together, a connection that refused to be severed.

An unspoken pact seemed to settle between them, a silent truce forged in the crucible of their shared experiences. Their eyes locked, each acknowledging the enigmatic connection that had both united and torn them apart over the years. It was as if their tumultuous past had culminated in this one moment, where they stood on the precipice of something undefined.

With a deliberate tenderness that was as rare as it was unpredictable, the reader's hand reached out, their fingers grazing Alfie's cheek. The touch was cool to the touch, as cold and unpredictable as the relationship they shared. It was a gesture that defied easy interpretation, a hint of a deeper connection that refused to be denied, no matter how much they clashed or how much they tried to push each other away.

"If I find you still here in the morning," Y/n warned, their fingers still caressing Alfie's cheek, "you're dead." The threat hung in the air, laden with both menace and a strange kind of intimacy. 

Alfie responded with a sly grin that was half defiant and half affectionate. "And I wouldn't have it any other way," he retorted, a declaration that underscored the complex nature of their relationship.

With a smile that held a hint of something deeper than just the banter they usually engaged in, Y/n turned and walked away, leaving Alfie on the couch. Their footsteps echoed through the cavernous space, a reminder that, despite the tumultuous dance they shared, there was a bond that neither of them could easily sever.

-

A/N: thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoyed, again, thank you for the request 🥀. I look forward to more :)

[sakumasmut]

Butler!Yuzuru x Pregnant!Fem!Reader

nope, not a joke, I’m back with a reader fic! been a while since I wrote one for myself, huh?

tags/warnings: cunnilingus, pregnant sex, adultery (reader cheating on partner with yuzuru)

ao3

“Mistress, I’ve brought you your afternoon tea.”

You looked up from the book you were reading as Yuzuru closed the door behind him, holding a tray with a tea set and some snacks in his hand.

“Shall I place it by the bedside or on the table?”

“The bedside, please.” You shut your book and looked down at your belly, so round that you sometimes couldn’t see past it. “It’s a struggle to even stand up sometimes.”

“I understand.” He nodded, gracefully gliding over and setting the tray down next to you. “Shall I pour you a cup as well?”

“Please do.”

You watched his gloved hands lift the teapot and pour its contents out. It only took a few seconds, but even after he finished and set it back down your eyes lingered on his face. He could feel your gaze, but didn’t comment on it.

“Is my husband in the house?”

“I’m afraid the Master has left on another business trip, just this morning.”

You sighed disappointedly, and Yuzuru looked at you with an apologetic look.

“I’m sure it was an urgent matter.”

“Yes, I’m sure it was important enough to leave the property when I’m due within the month.” The bitterness was evident in your voice.

“He said that he would be gone no more than a week.”

“What does that matter? He’ll just be gone again the week after.” You rubbed your swollen belly and sulked. “He doesn’t care for me, nor my child. All he wants is an heir. My husband doesn’t love me like you do, my dear Yuzuru.”

His shoulders tensed at your words, but he remained quiet. You took the teacup in your hands.

“Please, take a seat and keep me company for a while.”

“As you wish.”

He pulled a chair towards the bed and sat down next to you. Oh, how you wanted to reach out and brush your hands against his own, but he still seemed tense and kept himself out of arm’s reach. You took a slow sip of your tea, barely able to pay much attention to the flavor.

“I haven’t seen you as often recently.”

“The Master has asked me to run various errands around the town, it’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Why not ask the gardeners or apprentices to do those mundane tasks for you?”

“The preservation of the task’s quality is important. I simply chose to take on the roles myself.”

He still wasn’t meeting your eyes, avoiding them even. You cleared your throat.

“My husband…he hasn’t given me more than an hour’s attention in months, not ever since I told him I was with child.” You paused, then shook your head. “No, That’s being generous. Even when we bed together, all he cares for is his own satisfaction, never my own pleasure.”

Yuzuru continued to stay silent. He knew that your husband wasn’t the best, but he would never bring himself to speak a word against him. If he knew the truth in his heart, which even a fool did, at the very least he would spare your husband the embarrassment and wouldn’t utter it aloud, that was the kind of man Yuzuru was.

“That night you found me crying in the halls, it was because he had made me leave his quarters after satisfying himself, with no regard to my own desires.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then why do you hesitate so? Are you truly telling me to remain happy with such a selfish man, Yuzuru?” Your lip trembled. “Have you not already touched me in the most debauched ways? Is my body not enough for you, as well? Or perhaps, you no longer want to look at me now that I’ve grown fat and ugly?”

“Don’t say such things!” He looked aghast at your words, finally turning to look at you. “I assure you, the way your body has changed has not affected my perception of you one bit!” He was firm in his words, not wanting you to ever think that low of yourself. Your grip on the teacup was weak, and you set it aside lest you spilled it.

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

He looked away from you again, and if he had continued to do so your heart likely would have broken into several pieces. But you could see the contemplation on his face, and it stayed for a quiet few seconds before he looked at you once more.

“Forgive me if it appeared I neglected you. The expectant child has just been…weighing heavy on my mind. I’m sure you’re aware as to why.”

You nodded slowly, not speaking and letting him gather his courage to continue.

“I selfishly entertained your request that night, betraying the trust of my Master, and now there is a chance that the child is a bastard. Indeed, the thought that your highly expected firstborn could not be of my Master’s blood…”

“If the child is indeed a bastard, so be it!” You interrupted, “I would much rather you make love to me every night and bear 10 more of your children than lay with that man even once more!”

Yuzuru looked taken aback, flushed completely red at your bold statement and more embarrassed than you had ever seen him.

“M-My Mistress…”

“You make me happy every moment I’m in your company, and satisfy me in ways I’ve never experienced before. I love you.”

He let your confession sink in as he let out a shaky breath, looking like he was going into shock. He stood up from his seat, and took the few steps needed to be facing you directly from above. Here you were, barely able to move, still managing to take his breath away.

“My orders were to heed your every command the moment I stepped into this house. Your happiness has always come first and foremost in my duties as a butler. For succeeding in that, I have no regrets.”

You were finally able to reach out a hand to touch his own, and he took it. He squeezed your hand firmly, getting down on one knee to bring his face closer to yours.

“If you will allow me to return your feelings, I shall.”

“Then kiss me.”

At once, his lips captured your own in a fit of passion, every feeling he couldn’t properly express in words traveling through your connection. You could feel the blazing fire just from this small action enveloping your body, and knew you craved more. No, you needed more. You pulled back slightly to gasp for air, only for him to lean in and take them for himself. The hand that was holding yours became intertwined with it, Yuzuru able to feel the heat radiating from your fingers through his gloves. His other hand found a resting place on your stomach, lovingly tracing circles on its highest peak. As you pulled away once more, you found pink eyes staring adoringly into your own.

“I hope it’s yours.” You whispered, threading your fingers through his hair. “I’d love for my child to have your lovely eyes.”

“I’d much rather the child be as gorgeous as their mother.”

He kissed you again, and when you let out a muffled moan he took the chance to slide his tongue into your mouth. You gladly accepted his boldness, letting your own tongue mingle with it. The hand that was on your stomach followed its curve down to your crotch, and his fingers were able to easily slip under your nightdress and press against the underwear that covered your soaked opening. You gasped against him, and he pulled away to let you speak.

“Yuzuru, please,” you cried out, “pleasure me, my body aches for your affection.”

“Of course, my mistress.” He gave your lips a quick kiss before swiftly moving to the foot of the bed, the foundation creaking softly as he situated himself on the edge.

Yuzuru carefully lifted the bottom of your nightgown up, revealing your legs that were tightly pressed against each other. You were rubbing your thighs to try and hide the wetness accumulating between your legs, but he effortlessly parted them, revealing how damp your panties had already gotten.

“My my, is this all my doing?” He brushed a finger against a spot darkened with your juices, and you whined.

“Yuzuru, please, no teasing.”

He obeyed, using a finger to hook your underwear and then dragging it down off your legs. Once that was discarded, he lifted one of your legs up onto his shoulders, bringing his head down to get a clear view of your folds, puffy and quivering from just him breathing on them.

“How shall I please you today?”

You licked your lips, the feeling of his tongue in your mouth still lingering.

“Use your tongue.”

His head disappeared below the view of your stomach, but the damp feeling of something poking at your entrance made you gasp. Months ago, he had pleasured you the same way, able to look up and watch your face contort with every touch. Your round stomach prevented that now, but he cared not. What mattered was that you were enjoying it. His mouth sucked gently on your engorged clit, enveloping it in the most pleasurable sensations. You couldn’t help but moan loudly at the stimulation, not caring who overheard. Your pregnant body was so much more sensitive, he didn’t have to do much to get you all riled up.

When he had enough fun with your clit, he popped his mouth off of it and moved back down towards your wetness, covered in clear liquid that was making quite a mess on the sheets. His tongue licked a stripe up your labia, and when you made a squeaking noise a smirk crossed his face. He buried his nose into your warmth and began to ravish your insides, tongue darting in and out, licking circles all around. It was hard to imagine him as anything less than an expert. Your eyes widened as you threw your head back and moaned, wanting to squeeze your legs around his head but being unable to.

He shut his eyes, the moans that reached his ears letting his mind wander back to the scene of you underneath him, remembering exactly how you cried out his name the same as you did now. It made him flick his tongue against you more rapidly, trying to push it in as far as your walls could grab, ignoring the throbbing in his pants.

“Yuzuru!” You cried, trying to move your hips to no avail. “Oh, Yuzuru! I’m so close!”

He pressed further, practically breathing in your juices. Finally, you came with a loud cry of his name, wanting the world to know the name of the only man who could make you feel this way. A new wave of your juices gushed from your cunt that Yuzuru dedicatedly lapped at like a starving dog. He continued to do so until he felt your leg go limp against his shoulder, at which point he retreated, the tip of his nose glistening with your fluids. He set your leg back down onto the bed while you breathed heavily, wiping his mouth with the back of his glove.

“Oh, Yuzuru,” you panted, staring up at him, “I can’t get enough. I long to have you in my bed once more.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, not now.” He murmured, massaging your inner thighs. “Your due date is soon, I would never forgive myself if I harmed your child.”

“Then, at the very least, hold me?”

He nodded, flipping your nightgown back over the mess between your legs first. He moved towards the side of the bed to kneel down next to you, the same position he took to kiss you so passionately. This time he pressed a kiss to your covered belly, arms wrapping around your midriff as he placed the side of his head against it. You smiled dreamily at him, and when he smiled back, you swore you felt the fluttering of a kick inside you.