#excuse the shitty art on the second one

[1nd1gnant]

Whos the kid on the far right next to rasmus?

Sinlciar!! I know it doesn't really look like him as he is now, but it makes more sense if you know his pre-deity design (human)

[tinytennisskirt]

Rematch

ex situationship patrick x reader

summary: you and patrick used to be the epitome of casual. aside from a few things... he was cheating on his girlfriend with you and all you could do from then on was hate him. eight years later, you work together. you're forced to share transportation and stay at the same hotels. The close proximity isn't much good for two people who have gotten by on avoidance. And it only becomes harder to avoid certain words. and certain actions.

warnings: smut! mentions of sex, unprotected sex. enemies to lovers- hateful words, slight miscommunication (through hating so much), a lot of swearing. somewhat edited...

“You’re hitting on my sister?” You said, overhearing him as you approached the outside gate of the tennis court. You walked over, knocking Patrick in the chest with your racket. That sly son of a bitch didn’t budge an inch. “You know she’s only nineteen? And she’s a fucking lesbian you absolute idiot.” You followed up. He just grinned. 

“I didn’t know she was any of those things,” he shrugged, hands up in surrender. “You don’t look alike. She’s actually pretty.” 

You rolled your eyes. You knew he didn’t mean what he said but still said it. “Fuck you, Zweig.”

“You used to like that, you know,” he said, grin widening to something evil. You didn’t know how he could stand in front of you and say the stupid shit he was saying, seemingly unabashed. 

“That’s enough,” your sister said to both you and him. Your racket didn’t waiver from the place it rested against his chest. You kept that warning in your eyes. “Y/N, he didn’t know. And he wasn’t inappropriate. He just said my swing was good with a weird tone.” 

“Weird tone?” Patrick repeated.

You smiled just a bit at that. “It’s better than good. You know- you are the same guy you were eight years ago somehow. Grow up and go away, Zweig,” you said, glaring at Patrick. And to think you were the sweet one in your family. It was all fun and tennis until Patrick was around. He wasn’t exactly an ex, but someone who frequented the bed in your dorm room eight years ago at Stanford. He was a drug of choice, a situational type of person who when visiting his friend Art Donaldson, would also visit you, a few dorms down. 

It was hot. He’d be sneaking around with you at parties, finding unoccupied rooms to kiss you with a force that usually winded you, wide hands on your waist, holding you close against a wall, a door, and sometimes the floor. If he saw you in the cafeteria all it took was a glance at you to communicate exactly which stall in the bathroom to meet him in while he excused himself from Art and Tashi Duncan. He’d be in your room late at night making you finish in three different ways and walking back to his friend’s room at four in the morning. 

Sometimes you’d make out for hours on end with only touching, but all of it, every action, every trace of his finger, every word was all traced with lust. Sometimes you swore he liked you, lingering after you both had finished, still grazing his hands over the curve of your hip, kissing your forehead, tucking your hair behind your ear… It was supposed to be casual, you reminded yourself. He was too attached. 

The funny thing was, you’d been in Stanford tennis too, a hometown prodigy with a father successful in the tennis world. Tashi called nepotism and you never got along, but you and Tashi never hated each other more when she found out you were fucking her boyfriend. If you had known you wouldn’t have been doing it, but the damage was done and there was no apology for a girl who fucked her knee up after a big fight with Patrick. No apology could include the extent of how sorry you were without telling her what for. 

And you met with Patrick just to yell at him. He was a shitty person with shitty morals and you made sure he knew that. And even in all the yelling, you still fucked him in your car. But that was the last time. The second your lips disconnected for the last time, it was supposed to be the last time you spoke to him. And it was simple. “Fuck you. You’re an asshole, I never want to see you again.” His eyebrows furrowed as you collected your clothes and disappeared back home. 

It went well, not seeing him again. He stopped visiting his friend who had sided with Tashi, he had no reason to come around. But he picked up a job coaching in the area you moved to seven years later. Your boss was a powerful woman and the pay was amazing, so Patrick became your coworker and you put up with that. And it was awful, but you scheduled yourself away from him and your paths only crossed at meetings and maybe once every few months, but it was still too much. You made do with the few words you had to give him, but other than that you stayed far away, and rightfully so. The only conversations you’d had in all of the year you’d been around him again were easy jabs, quips, argumentative things. But for the sake of your job, it didn’t go farther than easy insults. You still hated him for what he did, for how he used you when he was seeing Tashi. For how he treated you when he had a whole girlfriend waiting for him after hours. You weren’t proud of what you did and he was just a living reminder of something that haunted you. 

He was this adult douchebag-type now- you swore you saw him with two different women at the cafe you passed on your way to work. You could mind your business, but it was fucked to know he hadn’t changed. Eight years and no change. So yeah, Patrick talking to your sister, granted- step-sister, was something you had to nip in the bud. 

Patrick nodded, his jaw tensing. “Your sister here is my student today.” He said, gesturing to the split court. Sometimes split courts happened, but you’d only been paired with him on one once. “The list here says so.” He uncrumpled a piece of paper from his pocket and pointed at her name. 

“So you’ll switch me. Easy,” You stated, trying all you could not to hit him with another insult. Your sister picked up her rackets, moving to your side so Patrick didn’t have a say. It was your turn to smile. “You’re lucky I don’t fucking report you.” You added. 

“You’d miss having me around too much, I don’t think you have it in you,” He replied. 

You narrowed your eyes, “Get a grip.” You said, turning away from him. You heard his low chuckle as he called your student over. You rubbed your face while you walked to the other side, trying to wipe away the feeling you’d lost brain cells just talking to him. This was why you didn’t engage with him- it never went well. “Sorry.” You apologized to your sister. 

“It’s fine, honestly. He’s such a dick.” 

“I know,” you sighed. “I’m unfortunately cursed with knowing when Patrick has the intention to flirt. He’s fucking obvious.” You said, grabbing a ball. 

Your sister laughed. “He was coming on a little weird. To be fair I think he thought I was some random girl outside the court. But this is why I don’t date men.” 

You were glad you didn’t have to see him for another two months. You continued to train your sister as the other girls you were training had all fallen off. Your company made sure to only train the most competitive of girls and that was your sister for sure. She was amazing- not better than you- but amazing. When the time came for another Junior US Open, she was the perfect candidate for it. Your company, your boss, she usually sent two, booked them and their trainer a room at an amazing nearby hotel, paid for travel and food and gave a spending bonus for the hard work and you were hoping to god that it was your sister. You’d lost the Junior US Open to a twisted ankle- and Tashi Duncan and it would be amazing to see your sister go and win. 

She had worked so hard for it. And finally, your boss called all the trainers in for a meeting. There were ten of you, some with two students, most with only one, but you all sat in the fluorescent-lit room in front of the projector that projected the logo of the company on the white wall. Your boss thanked you all for coming and congratulated all of you on all your amazing seasons and work coaching the students. Talking about the best of the best. Eventually came to the portion where she would name the two students who were going to the open, the two that were going on the trip. 

And she said your sister's name. Your chest filled with excitement and happiness and pride and obviously you had to contain it. You were going back to the Junior US Open, it was an amazing way to get her name out there as a player and make everything all worthwhile. You started thinking up creative ways to tell her, thinking about the company limo on the way up, thinking about how to increase training all crossing your mind. “-And Simon Abernathy.” She added. For the boy's division. His name was familiar. 

And it was no wonder. Patrick clapped once out of success and you felt your eye twitch just a bit. It was his student, it was Patrick’s student, which meant you’d be with him this entire trip. He would be one of the only people you knew out that way- and it would be just him, you, and your students. There was only one word and it slipped out of your mouth quietly enough to go unnoticed. “Fuck.” You avoided Patrick’s gaze, but you just knew he had that big stupid grin on his face. 

When the car pulled up outside of your apartment, you insisted on putting your own bag in the trunk. It was just how you were. You were first to be picked up and it was always fun to be in a limo. A road trip was still a road trip, two days to be specific and it would have been something to look forward to if it wasn’t for him. Thank god you picked up your sister next, then Simon, then Patrick. You and your sister were far too engaged in your conversation to think about the boys on the other end. You talked about training, and game day, and you went over what it was like when you competed. 

The day passed by, book in hand, iPod on, and earbuds plugged in. You stopped once for lunch and another for gas but at the end of the night you were at a nice motel. Nothing like the motels you knew when you were in the Junior Open. In this motel, everything worked properly, smelled nice, and was actually clean. Patrick, unloading his bag for the night passed you yours and you said the only word you’d said to him all day- “Thanks.”

You and your sister hung out in your motel room, two-bed, talking about the day. She lay like a starfish on her bed, but she rolled over to face you as you pulled on your pajama shirt. “You never told me why you hate Patrick so much.” She said, eyes wide. You just groaned and rolled onto your back. “Come on. You obviously know each other from something.” 

“I will be so honest with you, I am too tired to get into it,” You said. “I just… ugh.” 

“It’s fine- like you don’t have to give me all the details, I just want to know why.” She replied, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. “You guys dated, right?” 

You covered your face, “Not exactly.” 

“Okay, so? What happened? I’m nineteen, Y/N, come on.” 

You hated talking about it, you hated admitting it. Knowing that he was one of the few men in the world to ever touch you but the only one who had left impact, left you wanting in his wake, the only one to make you finish… It was crazy, it was despicable. You hated remembering it had only ever been him to touch you right. And now you were admitting it to your sister. “Casual… sex. Friends, almost. Mostly the benefits.” You said, trying to keep it simple. Her eyes widened even larger. “Turns out he was cheating on his girlfriend with me.”

“He’s just a dick,” she nodded, understanding. “I’m so sorry, that must have put you in an awful position.” 

“I felt awful, I still feel awful,” you told her. “One of the worst things I’ve ever done.” 

“I get that,” she nodded. “Was he any good anyways?” 

You hated the question. “No.” You lied. “Awful.” 

She laughed, “Makes sense.” You knew she had more questions but didn’t want to pry. Besides, you were both tired. She showered before bed and by the time she got out, you were asleep, waiting for the next day of the road trip to be over. In the morning you showered, tied your hair up, and got into the car again with your sister. Patrick and Simon were doing their own things as the car got back onto the road. 

You continued listening to music, looking out the window, shutting out the sounds of the car. Your sister watched you change the song three times, but when her gaze shifted back to the conversation with Simon, she noticed Patrick’s eyes on you. Knowing what she knew now, she hated him just a little bit more. She watched him for a bit and he didn’t look away, so she addressed him to take his attention off of you before you noticed. 

That night at another motel, your sister was much too tired to stay up watching the motel television bullshit with you and passed right out on top of her covers. You fixed that, obviously, but after getting into bed yourself you let an hour pass with no sleep. You just couldn’t, no matter what you tried. At that point, you said fuck it and put your bathing suit on. The motel had a hot tub and a pool and maybe a quick swim could tire you out. You wrapped yourself in a towel and headed out to where the motel pool was. The lights from within the pool gave off a sort of aquamarine tint to the things around it- it was the only source of light aside from the ones lining the wall of the motel and the shining motel sign that flashed gold and red. It was perfectly dim and the night was perfectly still, just as the empty pool was. You put your towel to the side and waded in, pulling your hair up into some lazy updo so it wouldn’t get soaked in pool water. You were barely up to your shoulders when his voice spoke up, “It’s a bit late to swim, don’t you think? Isn’t it your thing to get an early sleep for an early start?” He asked. Patrick was in the hot tub, you’d completely missed him. 

“Maybe when I was playing or when I’m coaching, but we’re in the middle of nowhere with no court in sight.” You replied. “Can I just enjoy my swim, please? I won’t bother you if you don’t bother me.” 

“Fair,” he replied. You could hardly see him in the dim of the pool lights, but you could make out his figure, arm draped over the edge of the hot tub like he was reversing a car. “Since you said please.” 

“Uh huh,” You replied. You didn’t stay for as long as you intended. Being alone anywhere with him was too gross for comfort. Neither he nor you said goodnight when you went back to your room, showered, and fell asleep.

The next stretch of road was the last before the hotel. You were set up nicely and you thanked the concierge boys who helped you with your bags as you went to the front desk to retrieve your room keys, everything dealt with already by your boss. You handed the keys out. “Here’s how this is going to work. There’s a week before the Junior Open and this hotel, even if it comes across as luxury, it’s here so you can get a good, safe, comfortable rest on the days leading up. If Patrick and I have nothing on the schedule for you, you’re free to roam around the local area, however, curfew is 11. Please check your emails for the daily schedule.” 

Simon nodded and Patrick looked like he didn’t pay any attention- why would he anyway? “Sounds good,” Your sister smiled. “And we get our own rooms?” 

“We have the second-to-top floor suite. It’s like four hotel rooms joined into one, attached to a main bathroom, living room, place to eat, and a kitchen. Kind of like a house with a four-person hotel hallway built in.” You said. You were so excited to finally lock yourself away in your hotel room with a book and not have to sit in a car with Patrick for hours at a time. Sure, he’d be nearby but the hotel and its amenities would make for an amazing way to keep yourself far from him. He plucked his key card out of your hand and as he passed, you could smell his cologne. 

The room was amazing and the view was even more beautiful. There was a balcony in the suite as well as in your room, but the joined balcony beat that one out for a better view. You curled up in your super comfortable hotel bed with your book and finished it before dinner. Your sister came in and out wondering what she should wear to the Junior Open, already stressing about that because she didn’t want to stress about the actual game. You helped for a bit, then you went out to the main room. 

“Simon, do you have dinner plans?” You asked him. He was on the couch playing with some portable video game device. 

“Nah, I was thinking room service. My parents gave me a hundred to spend.” He said. 

You nodded, “I was thinking the same thing.” Your sister agreed, busy going through her schedule. So you ordered room service for everyone, sending Simon to go see what Patrick wanted. You were surprised he even stuck around the room and wasn’t at the casino downstairs or out at some club already. Dirtbag activities. 

The next day was a late start, but you and your sister went down to the hotel gyms to work out a bit before going to the hotel courts to practice. Three days until the game. You practiced all methods, swings, serves, and Patrick and Simon practiced in the next court over. Then you went separate ways for lunch just to meet back after at the court. You were done around four so you didn’t overdo it and the rest of the night was free. You and your sister continued to talk strategy and gossip over cranberry juice in the main room of the suite and you were vaguely aware of Patrick sitting in the corner going through his phone, his hand on his head, elbow resting on his knee. He looked up at one point, meeting your eyes and you looked away. The price you paid for being curious. Your sister and Simon, both tired from the day went to their rooms a little early. You decided to get dressed properly and head downstairs to the casino and play a few hands of whatever games they had going. 

You adjusted the length of your skirt as you sat down at the table and took part in everything happening. You were dealt in and in only a small amount of time, you had a good amount of money owed to you. You were definitely on a roll. “Didn’t know you gambled,” Patrick said, sitting beside you on the empty stool. You groaned out loud, rolling your eyes. “You're good, too, what is this, around $400?” 

“$700, and what are you doing here?” 

“I can’t enjoy the casino?” 

“You couldn’t enjoy any other game?” You asked, not even caring to look his way. You raised your hand to signal the dealer to let you out of the game. 

Patrick waved the dealer off and turned to face you better, “Don’t stop just because I’m here. And I like this game- my favourite one, actually, and the only table that has it.” He told you. You looked at him, hoping your eyes would burn through him. But he looked maybe half genuine, aside from the smirk. It was your favourite game too. 

“You’re just going to lose to me, you know that, right?”

“I’m okay with that,” he smiled and his eyes met yours. “Or, I’m okay with you thinking that. Say goodbye to your $700.” His grin slowly crawled up his face.

“Uh-huh?” You laughed at him as he got himself dealt into the game. It was a laugh of disbelief- one, that he thought he could win and two, that he was really that sure. “You’re really still that sure of yourself?” 

“Still? You think I’m sure of myself?” 

“It’s not a compliment, Zweig.” Your laughing at him died down just a little, you couldn’t maintain it when he was just such a fucking loser.

“I am that sure of myself.” He replied. “You don’t think I can?” 

You shook your head and spoke firmly. No. I don’t think you can.” Your tongue pressed against your cheek and you pushed all your winnings to the centre, eyes not leaving his. “Try me.” Anything to put him in his place, truly. You could taste the win in your mouth the way it handed itself to you on a platter. And Patrick put a little extra money in on top of yours and the other player’s, eyes not leaving yours. But he did end up looking away first and the hand began. 

He had good cards and knew how to play them, but yours were better and you knew how to use them to their fullest potential. You placed yours down and they were better and the hand was about to go to you, but at the very last moment, unexpectedly, another player had a card just above yours and it was over, just like that. The man swept away your winnings and you just scoffed. 

“You were that sure of yourself?” Patrick replied. “Nice.” 

“Nice? Asshole.” You got up from your chair and grabbed your purse, ready to move on to another game at another table and let him enjoy his ‘favourite’. “My cards were above yours anyway.” You said as your face passed his. He just grinned as you walked away. 

You were good at other games, thank god. It wasn’t all lost money. You won another $350 by midnight and decided to stop and leave behind the men who had been hitting on you during the last few hands of poker. You were happy with the winnings and the fact Patrick hadn’t been seen the rest of your night. It was a good distraction either way. 

You bought yourself a bottle of iced tea with your winnings and walked over to the elevator, pressing the button to go up to the suite and using your key card to confirm it. It was just your luck that Patrick walked into the elevator. “You have your own keycard, you know that, right?” You sighed, turning away from him and pulling out your phone to pay attention to anything else as the doors closed, locking you in there with him.

He held it up, then shoved it into his pocket. “So did you end up winning your money back? I watched your games, you’re not all that great at poker. I don’t think a career in gambling is in the cards.”

“I think I missed the part where I asked, Zweig.” You stated, folding your arms. “And I think you missed all of the context clues that tell you that I don’t want to talk to you.” 

“You’re so angry,” he remarked, leaning against the metal elevator wall. “Isn’t it exhausting?” 

“Not as exhausting as talking to you.” 

“Fuck you,” he replied. 

You turned to look at him, pausing a beat just to look at him in disbelief. “You used to like that, you know?” 

“You’re not better than me for anything that happened after. You knew I cheated and you still fucked me after, you remember that one?” 

“It wasn’t very memorable,” You chuckled to yourself even though it was one of the biggest lies you’d ever told anyone. He’d put you in a corner. Of course, you knew you weren’t better than him for that last time. It haunted you, but not much more than the entirety of it haunted you. His lips against your lips, his lips against your skin, his lips between your thighs, they were memories that acted like ghosts. All of it was wrong, every kiss, every touch. It was sickening to remember that it wasn’t just you- and that it wasn’t just Tashi either. It was memorable, all of it, but for all the wrong and right reasons, and those right reasons were ten times more haunting because it was so wrong that it felt right. You knew Patrick sensed the lie but you couldn’t act like it. “I can be civil with you, Zweig, if you leave me alone like you have the past year or so. I don’t want to talk to you, why can’t you get that through your head?” 

He was silent, just staring at you, no grin on his face, not even a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. And as soon as the elevator doors opened, he funneled out and right up to his room. You let out a breath and blinked a few times to recalibrate. You took your melatonin, changed, washed up, and headed to bed. 

The next day he kept up exactly that. He didn’t address you, he hardly even looked at you and even if he did, you didn’t notice, you were far too busy. The Junior US Open was tomorrow. You woke up your sister at dawn to go to a hotel aquafit class and then dry off and hit the court. Patrick was there with Simon running east swing drills and you got your sister working hard. She was more than ready, you knew that, but you also knew that giving her any break would make her believe that you didn’t think so, so you kept her going. 

Simon called to you and your sister. “Doubles? For fun, before lunch?” He asked, walking over. Patrick stared at the ground as he walked over just a few steps behind. Poor guy didn’t know the vendetta both you and your sister had against Patrick. She nodded, so you nodded. You hadn’t played in a match in a while, honestly. It was all training and hitting the ball back and forth. 

You stood opposite Patrick on the court and it reminded you of a time when you had played him and Art next to Tashi, for fun. How you didn’t know they were together was beyond you, but you did remember how Art looked at her. You had to blink a few times to get the imagery out of your head as Simon served the ball. You were lucky your sister was on it. 

Patrick still played rough, swinging hard just to challenge your sister a bit. You appreciated the push from him if you were honest. She needed it. It was a good game and there were a few flop swings from you and Patrick that were laughable. You laughed more at him than yourself but he didn’t seem to mind it at all. He just dribbled the ball and served it back to you to hit it over to Simon, etc. 

Your sister watched how Patrick’s eyes stayed on you when the ball was over with Simon being served. She couldn’t help but think it was a little weird how he seemed to be fighting a smile and she followed up with wondering why. And you didn’t notice at all. 

Lunch was good, but you were back to it until dinner, then at the gym after dinner doing a bit of yoga. Your sister turned to you, “He knows that you don’t like him?” She asked. You hated knowing who ‘he’ was. 

“Mhm,” You hummed, stretching upward.

“He doesn’t act like he cares very much.” 

You looked over at her, “I don’t care if he cares. And he’s had around seven years to not care about any repercussions, so that’s just on the passage of time.” 

She moved into downward dog, “Have you talked about it?” 

“No.” You answered. “Kind of. When it had just happened. But that was all I ever said to him about it.” You disregarded last night. “He knows what he did was wrong and I don’t let him forget.” Your mind slipped back to what it felt to lay in his arms afterward, the way he kissed your hair and still cupped your face, the way all of it was wrong, the entire time. And how it felt to feel his hand trail against your skin as you pulled yourself away from him that very last time in your car. 

She clicked her tongue, “I can’t believe you have to work with him. Couldn’t you get him fired for so many things?” 

You nodded, but it hadn’t ever occurred to you why you hadn’t. It would have been simple, a collection of evidence and a complaint and surely he’d be out, but you hadn’t done anything like it. “I could.” You replied. “But I’m not that much of a bitch.” 

“You’re never a bitch,” your sister laughed. “You only become one when he’s around.” 

It was true. And later that night the only hint of Patrick there was, was the eye contact you made with him on the way up to your room. He sat on the couch on his phone while you exited the balcony with your cup of tea. Then it was early bed- the Junior US Open was tomorrow. 

That rolled around all too quickly. You got your sister up early for a massage and a stretch, you ordered her a protein shake as she stressed the entire time. You only spoke in affirmations all morning as you double and triple-checked that she had everything she needed, rackets, water, food, etc. The day was warm with a perfect cool breeze that was gentle enough to play tennis in. You tried not to let the stress of the day get to you as you were driven to the courts. You reminded your sister of all she trained for and she was more than excited, she was bouncing more than the tennis balls were around the court as she warmed up. She wasn’t on until later, so you hit the ball back and forth to pass the time outside. 

Game in game out she was a winner and she knew it, winning her games consecutively. 

In between, you watched Simon’s games and he did well until he didn’t, falling behind. Your sister continued later and by the time she was on the very last game, you knew she was a winner. You were on the sidelines cheering her on. She won, of course, she won. 

She came right to you and hugged you tightly, thanking you for everything. It was an amazing victory and nothing could ruin it. 

The car ride back to the hotel was your sister just yapping uncontrollably about the details of her game to poor Simon, who had not won. She was so excited about it, she was talking endlessly. Patrick was engaging with her at her own speed and you were tired, it was a good thing someone could do with all that she had to say. 

She had the biggest nap of her life when she got back to the hotel room. She was almost asleep in the car and she was lucky she made it to bed. You had a nap on her hotel room couch, that’s how tired you were as well. It was a big day. You woke up around seven pm, but she was still dead asleep. You snuck out quietly and into your room. You’d finished your book, your phone was boring, and Simon honestly wasn’t the best company so you showered the day off, dried your hair, put your makeup on and got dressed again. 

Just a black skirt and a comfortable black long-sleeved shirt, some jewelry you liked, and a bit of sparkle to your eyeshadow. You deserved it. All that and some easy kitten heels and you headed downstairs to the restaurant and bar. It was beautiful, warmly lit and dim, stained glass between the bar and the kitchen casting the light through the panes in different colours across the bar. You ordered a vodka cranberry and ate the lime out of it first. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?” A man said. It wasn’t any man you knew, but a stranger. He came from behind you, old, but not too old, and a little bit handsome aside from the obvious aging. “I’ve never seen a pretty woman alone at a hotel bar. Hotel bars are for the straggling men, lost in the city. Like that one over there,” he said, pointing to the other end of the bar. You weren’t sure why your stomach flipped when you saw it was Patrick. He didn’t seem to see you, but he sat there at the bar with a short glass of what you knew was whiskey, swirling it around, his head resting against his fist. He was wearing a black t-shirt and black pants, having changed from earlier as well. “Now what’s your story, I’m curious.” 

You turned your attention back to the handsome older man. “Tennis,” you told him. And it sparked up a conversation that was really more insightful than the being hit on that you were expecting- not that you weren’t bought drinks by two other men at the bar who smirked from where they sat at a booth. The man seemed to be in his early sixties with some good things to say and you listened intently, not noticing Patrick’s eyes on you from where he sat. 

It was good to talk to someone so removed from the tennis world who had so much to say about investing in stocks and surprisingly, you didn’t hate it. You sipped your drink, getting a little surprised at the attention you were getting and it was something new. The night continued with more men hitting on you, trying to sit with you… You weren’t the most beautiful woman ever but you weren’t ugly… this was a lot either way. The night continued to pass. 

When Patrick got up, you noticed it, he locked eyes with you, raising his eyebrows and chuckling. At what? At you? You watched his tongue press into his cheek before he pointed at you on his way by… it took a moment to realize what exactly it was he was pointing at until you looked down. Your shirt with only a few buttons at the top, had all of the buttons undone and you had somehow not noticed. Your bra was on display like a hooker or like some common whore and you knew Patrick’s chuckle was at exactly that. 

“Fuck!” You said, turning away from the man and getting up without explaining a thing. You must have looked a little crazy. Patrick laughed out loud as he passed you; your anger and embarrassment got the best of you. Your voice became genuine, “Did you know the whole time?” 

He looked at you, looking at the hand that covered the undone buttons, “Almost, yeah.” You didn’t want to be angry, instead, you just stayed humiliated, your eyebrows furrowing. You couldn’t be mad, not now. So many paid-for drinks you didn’t even drink and so many compliments you’d taken so graciously and you didn’t know and he did? “I thought maybe it was on purpose, though. Maybe if I haven’t changed, you haven’t either.” He said. And now you could be angry. He couldn’t be unaffected, he couldn’t be normal. What he meant by what he said was that you were a slut. And that wasn’t fair.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that and let it go because you’re drunk.” You said, straightening yourself out, trying to shake him off. “Not because you’re just an asshole who can’t mind his own business.” 

“I know my business- it’s you who came to the bar after me, today. If you wanted space so badly, why follow me?” 

“Follow you? Don’t flatter yourself, Zweig.” Your conversation moved just a few steps outside the hotel bar and into a corner of the vast lobby. You chuckled at the fact he really thought so. “I wanted a drink so I got a drink, like an adult who goes to a bar, I didn’t know these are your moping grounds.” 

He shook his head, rolling his eyes, “And you wanted civil?” 

“Everything you say is so completely self-absorbed. You’re obsessed with yourself, honestly get a fucking room. It’s disgusting how much you want to fuck yourself, pardon my reaction to it.”

He just grinned, “Yeah, okay, have fun with your senior citizen, how’s the bra thing working out for you?” 

You shook your head, tone changing again, “That- I didn’t know. I’m mortified.” 

“I’m sure. You know most women who are trying to gold dig go for a more subtle route.” He said, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. 

“That’s enough,” You snapped. “That’s enough. You’ve been drinking, I’m not arguing with you over something so stupid as the buttons on my shirt. You’re not worth it. You’re not worth a second of my time, you are so beneath me, I am so past you. You are so pathetic, thinking I still give a fuck about what you think of me.” 

“That’s what you think of me? I’m pathetic. You say you don’t care but you seem to care an awful fucking lot.” That terrible fucking grin was so aggravating. 

“Then you’re delusional. Grow up, honestly. I asked you to leave me alone, not slut shame me for some stupid buttons. How much would it have cost your ego to have told me that my buttons were undone? I hate you but I would have had the decency to tell you if this was you in this situation. Fuck!” You ran your hand through your hair and the argument paused for a beat, then two. You breathed out heavily, turning, your hand still on your chest. And you just started walking toward the elevator. What else could you do but just walk away? He was the problem but you became one too when you were with him. It was almost unavoidable when everything he said upset you for reasons both explainable and inexplicable. You had no control over it all, you just had too much to say, so much internalized rage for what you’d done, for the position he’d put you in all those years ago. You were glad the elevator was empty as you scanned for the suite and the doors closed, but the elevator didn’t move, it just made a clunking noise and you knew, as the doors opened again, that there was no escape from this personal hell. Thank god you only had a day and a half left here with him, you thought, as the doors let him into the elevator with you. 

“Walk away like you had no part in that, yeah,” he said, moving to his side of the elevator. You groaned out loud, rolling your eyes so far back it hurt. “Reminds me of the other time you did the same thing.” 

“Was last night not enough?” You laughed in genuine disbelief. “You put me in a disgusting position that nobody should have to be in. You cheated! On your perfect girlfriend! With me, over and over and over and I had no idea because you didn’t have the decency to tell either of us.” 

“I was also nineteen years old!” He retaliated. “You expected me to have my shit all sorted out? I’m sorry I wasn’t a five-year-plan type of guy!” 

“That’s a crazy take when not cheating is one of the easiest things to do.” You laughed, scoffing when you caught your breath. “You used me.” 

Another beat, his eyes softened just in the slightest. “I didn’t use you.” He replied. “For what? For sex?” 

You guessed he didn’t need you for that. The elevator became uncomfortable as it rose between floors. Both of your hands fell to your sides, the top of your shirt falling open again unnoticed. You just blinked at his words, looking away. But no, what? You went right back into it, “Then why? Tell me that you weren’t just selfish, keeping two girls around to satisfy yourself beyond the regular needs of a man. Tell me that you weren’t only thinking about yourself and not the feelings of both your own girlfriend and the girl you’d sneak out to see. You made me some fucking mistress! The other woman, I didn’t know I was the other woman, can you imagine what finding that out feels like? The guilt? The shame? Tell me you weren’t just selfish.” 

“Not everything comes down to that. You’re seeing this how you want to see it. You are at fault, you are not innocent in this. You knew and you still fucked me and-” Patrick hit the pause elevator button and you just glared. “No matter what you said to me afterward, you still did it. None of this is linear or organized, it just fucking happened. You are not the victim you say you are, you deserve a good portion of that guilt because you fucked me, even after, no matter what you’ve done to shut that part out.” He said. You felt the fire behind your own eyes. 

“I haven’t shut it out, I’ve grown past it. What you did is still wrong.” 

“I know that! I know that- I ended up with nothing when it was all said and done. I was fine with not having Tashi, but-” he paused and pressed a hand to his temple for just a half-second. “You’re still so angry! It’s hard to believe you’ve grown past it when you’re still reminding me of one of the biggest mistakes I’ve made constantly.” 

You scoffed again, “I’m sorry you can’t deal with your own problems and the shit you put on me still haunts me. How is it you get to live it down and I don’t?” 

“I haven’t fucking lived it down.” 

“Pathetic.” 

“Fuck you. Honestly.” He said. “I made a mistake as a teenager, I don’t know how to go back and fix how I felt about you. I can’t take anything back so I don’t know what you want me to do here. Was I selfish? Yeah, I was. You’re right. Does that make you feel better about yourself? Do you feel like less of a victim now? I’m so sure of myself, yeah, okay, at least I haven’t tricked myself into believing I disliked how wrong it felt.”

You blinked hard and hit the elevator button again so it would begin to move once again. “You think I liked it?” 

“I think you did. I think some part of you hated Tashi and you liked the fact you could have me once more for good measure. I think that is what ‘haunts’ you. That you liked it.” He said. And the elevator doors opened to the empty main room of the suite. You stepped out the second you could, trying to get away from this so desperately. “I admit I’m selfish so you can admit that. Or at least try and admit it to yourself.” 

At those words, you tossed your purse on the couch and turned on your kitten heel. You walked right back up to him and pressed your pointer finger to his chest. “You are still so fucking self-absorbed that you think I liked being your side-chick or whatever the hell I was to you? You think so highly of yourself- you’re presenting yourself as a thing to be had between girls? Some trophy? A prize?”

“You weren’t so special either.” He lied. As if he didn’t like you, truly like you, more than he liked Tashi, unfortunately. His mistake was trying to balance things while he figured out how to tell you that he wanted you. Tashi loved tennis more than anything, she was mean and she was cold and she was hard to please but you in his bed, you were warm in more ways than one and you always listened and you weren’t all about tennis the way she was. And he liked you- genuinely liked you. But he went about it entirely wrong. He told you that you weren’t special but you were. You always were. He watched your eyebrows furrow at his words and more bitter things came out of his mouth, “And you said you couldn’t give a fuck what I thought of you.” 

“You’re not worth my time. Fuck you, Zweig. Fuck you and your self-obsession. Get a grip, get a life, and get over yourself.” You pressed your finger hard into his chest and let your hand fall to your side, eyes meeting his, the fire in your eyes reflecting in his own. “Fuck you. You’re an asshole.” The stare lingered before you shook your head, just disbelieving in this entire stupid conversation. It felt like talking in circles. Pointless. You’d never see his point and he would never see yours. He just looked at you like nothing you said meant anything and was only to provoke him when it wasn’t. He made it feel pointless. And you were fuming, so fucking angry. He matched that as well, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. So you just turned and walked right into your hotel room, shutting the door behind you. 

What a fucking waste of time and breath, you thought. He wasn’t worth it. Any of it. You just breathed out, hearing his hotel room door shut next to yours. You pressed your hand to your forehead, letting out a second sigh as you thought about just how stupid he was, deflecting, avoiding. You were glad you were out of the heat of that moment. If you’d been out there any longer yelling at him who knows what you would have done? Or said. The number of times you’d said ‘fuck you’ were uncountable and you hated who he made you. You weren’t this person he made you- you were kind and sweet and gentle and patient but right now all you knew was this person he turned you into. He was just so disgusting and so self-centered and you couldn’t get past what he’d done and he never elaborated on what he meant by ‘I don’t know how to go back and fix how I felt about you’. Fuck, he just made you so fucking angry and it really was exhausting being around him. Dredging these things back up. Him and his fucking ego, really. 

You weren’t exactly sure just what you were going to say to him, the conversation felt final, but there had to be some reason you opened the door to your hotel room again. Took your back off of the door, turned again, buttons on the shirt still very open, and you opened the door by some possession of the mind and it was just coincidence that when you looked up, Patrick stared back at you, standing outside your door like he was about to knock. Your eyes met his and it was easy to see that there was still fire in his eyes the same as there was in your own. It was only a few seconds, maybe ten, maybe fifteen and he stood there and so did you, wordlessly. Silence, empty, just blinking and breathing and silence. Before the mutual crash of him stepping toward you, grabbing your face, and kissing you hard. You had met him in the middle just between your doorframe, and your hands immediately found themselves flat against his back, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. No other thoughts.

He kissed you like he meant it, with all of the hateful things that you had said still very much on the tongue that swiped past his own. And it was desperate, the way you kissed- hot, heavy, so passionate, too passionate. Your back was against the stretch of the wall just inside your room as he pressed you to it and him against you. The door shut beside you and it was a good thing. So much feeling, so much hate and so much time, so much weight in his kiss but it was as easy as breathing. 

He held your face between large hands that slowly slid down to your jaw, one of them down your neck, his body pressed so closely to yours that you thought maybe you’d start sinking through the wall against your back. His hand traveled downwards and you let it as his hand went around your neck, not pressing, not squeezing, just placement. It sent chills through your whole body though your bodies only radiated pure heat. Small sounds escaped both of your lips, small hums, as his hand slid down and over the exposed bra from your undone buttons. His hand cupped your chest, not too rough, but definitely without being gentle. None of this was gentle. 

You popped your knee out just a bit as he pressed himself against you so that when he did, he felt it. He groaned just a bit as you then took a step off the wall, pressing him to the wall opposite the small entrance to the hotel room. Still so desperate, still so in need, his hand still on your chest and one of your hands traveling to rest on his jaw while- as he began to take off your shirt- your other hand slid down his chest to break the waistband of his pants, just gently rimming it with your pinkie finger before undoing the button of his pants. His lips didn’t leave yours even as you slid your hand down into them. He was hard, he was so hard and in this desperation even you didn’t have the time to think. You didn’t want the time to think as your shirt was pulled over your head between the sound Patrick made into your mouth. 

All of this hatred just seeped out of your skin at a scalding temperature as you pressed yourself against him, your hand gripping him harder, he didn’t waste another second gaining back his leverage, kissing you as you walked over to your bed. He kicked off his pants and in seconds he was on you, really on you, over you. Climbing over you in your bra and little black skirt. Your hand left his boxers and you began to pull at his t-shirt, all of your actions desperate and wanting and his lips were on your neck, his hand resting at the base of it again, moving your hair aside. Gentle, but starving. His skin against yours, hands trailing all over your body, one of them deciding to drop down between your legs. With only a touch of his finger against the inner of your thigh, you opened them just a little so that very same finger could gently press against you where you needed it. This was too gentle, in a world that wasn’t gentle, so when you kissed Patrick harder he knew to cut the bullshit. You weren’t delicate, he didn’t need to act like it. He pulled your underwear to the side to gently rub circles into your clit and easily slipped his other finger inside of you, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from you. 

You hated how it was almost familiar, his pattern of heavy breathing and his fingers pumping inside of you with that careful curving middle finger hitting that perfect spot inside of you. You hated how it sent a flush over your whole body and made you feel almost euphoric like he was some sort of drug. His fingers curled inside of you, moving up and down as he went half in, half out, his thumb on your clit like it was the easiest thing and it probably was- he had good practice. You were moaning as quietly as you could, breathily against his skin before without warning, he cut that out too, just to pull your underwear down from inside the skirt and you kicked it off somewhere far away. His fingers went to resume his actions, but he wasn’t so lucky to go back to something so easy. 

With a swift rocking motion, you were able flip yourselves over so now you were on top of him. You pulled your hair to the side as you bent down to kiss him now, feeling his hard dick against you, still hidden by his boxers. You kissed him, still fast, still hot, still in need as you slowly rolled your hips against him, causing him to groan out into your mouth just the same way you just had when his fingers were inside of you. And in seconds he was getting rid of his boxers and his dick was standing, waiting. He was so hard, still so in need, he almost pushed you down onto it but you didn’t want to waste any time either, moving down just a bit while his hands began sliding down your bare waist, resting on your hips, his eyes meeting yours for what felt like the first time since you’d crashed against each other at the door. His mouth was just a little open, eyes on you like you were everything, and it felt like a pause but it was only half a second. 

He kissed you again, just as hungry, his lips meeting yours in such a sickeningly sweet way but it was all so fast, his tongue in your mouth in a way you had not forgotten. A kiss only broken by the moan that slipped between both of your lips as you sank down onto him. His fingertips dug into the flesh of your ass, pushing just gently as he filled you entirely. You hated that with all the men you’d been with since, none of them had ever filled you the way he did. And that hate was momentum enough to begin to move up and down, hips rocking with his guiding force. “Fuck…” he said through his heavy breathing as you rode him, moaning in response as the rocking turned to a slight bounce, his hips lifting to meet you halfway. 

It was so all-consuming, the feeling. Like some hot flush in your body every up and down was worthy of the extreme rush of the perfect feeling of him. Fucking yourself on him, his hands tight on your hips, pulling you up and down harder, faster, as your hair fell into your face time and time again. This desperate sex got more desperate as Patrick made a move to regain his control, flipping you onto your back without even pulling out. You grinned breathlessly as his hands moved back to your jaw to kiss you all the same, not letting up on how hard he kissed you while he began to fuck you harder than before. Your legs wrapped around his body and his arm propping him up rested just beside your head and you needed each other more than anything it was violent, the way his body met yours rapidly, perfectly. It was a mixture of breathing hard, whispers of ‘fuck’ and ‘god’ and skin and the moans you tried to suppress along with his own. 

Your eyes rolled back as he fucked you. It felt like nothing had ever compared, like nothing could even come close to this feeling. It felt like you were losing all sense of the world outside the bedroom, being fucked truly dumb and numb to any other part of this, not the morals, not your principles. Nothing else mattered aside from this violent show of passion. His hand now on your waist, yours around his neck and his eyes met yours again. 

Barely open, in this world of lust, he looked back at you through his eyelashes like none of this was happening. You couldn’t see fire in his eyes anymore. His eyes were more showing water, still, calm, despite his actions and despite it all. Things slowed. And he kissed you again, slower, as his thrusts continued with the same power and the same force. Your hands slid into his hair and there was nothing you wanted more in this moment than the kiss… Somehow ignoring the outside world for sex became ignoring the sex for the kiss. You wouldn’t breathe if you didn’t have to. “Mm- I’m so close, fuck,” he mumbled over your lips, mouth opening just a bit as he picked up the pace and your fingers closed in fists of his hair as a new wave of pleasure completely overtook all of your thinking. 

“Uh huh,” You nodded, using your hands to kiss him again, to keep him close to you as his thrusts got sloppy and more spaced but still hard as finished. His moans mixed with your own as he slowed to a stop. “Fuck…” You sighed heavily. It was over, it was over, it was over and you were a mess underneath him. Your makeup all fucked up, your hair ruffled, your body sticky from the sweat of it all. Nearly-naked, almost entirely, under Patrick, of all people. You would have to deal with the high and it’s comedown, its consequences. 

The consequence seemed to be not having anything witty or hateful to say to him as he moved to lay next to you, rubbing his face, obviously thinking this over the same way you were. You propped yourself up on your elbow and looked at him, really looked at him. And all he had for you was that stupid, arrogant grin. But it made you laugh. And for the first time in all of the times he had ever fucked you and left after dating back eight years- he reached over and pulled you into another kiss, silencing your giggle. A real kiss, hands staying put on your jaw, your hand gently pressed again his bare chest. The high was gone but the comedown was cushioned in a way you had never felt before. You couldn’t hate someone who kissed you this way with nobody waiting for him at home. Like pieces falling into place, after eight years, there was the first kiss with no intention of sex. 

You couldn’t hate how right it felt with nothing about it having to feel wrong. It was surprising, how different it felt. The consequence was that you liked it. 

And on the way home, your sister knew something had shifted. You sat closer to him than you ever allowed, he addressed you when he had something to say and it was just all too normal. There was another night at the motel where you’d ended up talking everything out with Patrick, finding out how he really felt about things without the need for argument. He confessed to just about everything before the night of conversation ended with you both a little bit too close. Your eyes met his in the glow of the motel pool you sat next to and before any other words were said, his hand slid around the back of your neck and he kissed you again. You didn’t have sex that night. But you ended up in his arms, your hair being tucked behind your ear, his fingers tracing patterns over your thigh. 

Your sister knew something was up for sure when you returned to the motel room around 4am, but she didn’t question it. The biggest tell was that you were your regular, sweet self again. That and you had stopped calling him Zweig. There wasn’t any need to dwell on the past, you’d both decided. He was forgiven over a few cups of coffee. And your past actions felt less like something haunting... more like a mistake from the end of your teenage years.

It truly was exhausting feeling so much and not letting it serve a true purpose, you both found. You began to recognize that not everything formed in the fires of lust stayed on fire forever. It was better to succumb to the still waters that his eyes reminded you of. You liked this rematch, it was one of the best games you'd ever played.

[thebottomfromhell]

ONE-SHOT

Female Human (later Demon) Reader becoming Muzans lover

Ok, I will be evil with this one. This is the typical "reader/oc is yeeted i to the Mary Sue role because she is oh so special" but done my own way, which is basically destroy the promt into something more in character, so it might not be everyone's taste. Also being Muzan's part from this post.

Warnings: Manga Spoilers, Sexism, Power imbalance, Non-consented body modification (being turned into a demon), Narcissistic character, and Slight yandere behavior.

Muzan would never admit humanity has impressed him more than a fingers count of times. There have been several humans he found himself amazed with, but honestly? That only makes them less special. But the fact is still the same, when a human is capable os such a thing, it means they are worth of being more. Of being... almost perfect. Because no matter how many times he finds himself linked to human, humanity is a desease. The desease of getting tired, old, injured, weak and dead.

Not that he would ever go as far as to get rid of humans completely, what would he eat if he did? And raising them as cattle seems rather cruel, not only that but he must admit he enjoys human's products. The technology, the arts, the arquitecture... it would be a waste to get rid of it.

You were, are, impressive, not at the same level of Tamayo, but still an impressive woman he met as he was passing by as human. There was something about you, something he wanted. He couldn't ignore it, even if he did try, even if he had a hard time recognizing it. Specially because he didn't know why. With Akaza, it was his strengh. With Nakime, it was his wickedness. With Enmu, it was his... oddity. With Gyutaro, it was his hatred. With Gyokko, it was his art. With Rui, it was their resemblance. With Hantengu, it was his will and madness. With Kokushibou, it was his power and pride. For fuck's sake, he transformed Douma because of his shitty eyes! But in every case he knew exactly what he was doing and why at giving them their position in the Kizuki system.

Meanwhile, you can't compare to any of them. You aren't half as strong as most humans who called up his attention, you are sane, you are normal, average. Why are you here? In his head? Why does he let you stay near him, even when he should have killed you after switching to a new life. You met Muzan as a child, an odd one, very mature and smart for his age, but also had something you couldn't describe, but it set you off. Specially as he kept staring at you while you followed your routine.

You always made sure to show him bare minimum courtesy, he was the child of someone rich, after all. You didn't really care, until a young man came to you, he was very attractive and you did consider for a few seconds asking to meet or something. You are already an adult but haven't married yet, so people talk a lot about you, mostly condensending or nosy things. Maybe getting someone would stop the talking, as, depending on particular people, can be from annoying to hurtful. But after considering a few seconds, you decided it's not worth it, since you didn't know this man. You never wanted to come off as "desperate", that would make the rumours about you worse.

The thing is that. You didn't know this man, "Hello, Y/N." and yet he knows your name. He has a sweet voice, but something upseting from... you don't even know from what. "Excuse me, do we know each other?" You ask nerviously, and every second you look at him, he somehow manages to be more scary. There is something in the air, something... almost cursed. "We do, actually. But that doesn't matter. Tell me, dear, what do you think of your life?" He asks, but honestly? It feels that this is more to make up a conversation than to actually know about you.

You answer, lying in some details, saying some things mostly because it's correct to say it. In some aspects, you don't feel like other women, like you are not like the other ladies, hence you are also treated differently, maybe that is the reason you never got a fiance, even is it's considered unsightful that a young lady doesn't get any attention at all. Most men think you are "hard to manage", so they don't. You don't really like it but at this point you learned not to care. You also tell some truths, but not really giving so much detail. You just want to leave. There is something about this guy giving you creeps.

"I see." He chuckles a bit, and while it sounded nice, melodious even, it only made you tense up. "Honestly, I don't know what I was expecting asking such a silly question. But I guess you do have something interesting, you want to scape your life." That is not odd to find, most of his demons felt that same way. Akaza wanted to scape his family's death and lack of purpose, Kokushibou wanted to scape his weakness and sense of inferiority to his brother, Douma wanted to scape the numbness of the cult, Hantengu wanted to scape his criminal record and death sentence, Nakime wanted to scape her life as a poor wife of a gambler, even Rui wanted to scape his sickness.

You are no different. You are not special. And yet, annoyingly, he can't shake off his interest towards you. Maybe, because you are not special, he should enlist you with the others. In the best case scenario, you will join the Kizuki system. At the worst? He will get bored of you when you prove to be useless. Because, while attracked, he doesn't have the patience to stay by when there is so much to do. He can only have the best and the most useful assets by his side. Prove yourself then.

You didn't even manage to blink before you feel a potent sting of pain in your skull, the smell of blood that runs through your face makes you panic, but you can't move. The pain becomes numb as a liquid, an odd liquid, is... injected to your brain. It burns, but every pain is subdued. Then you feel cold air against your flesh as he removes his hand. "Join me, my dear. Prove that you deserve to be at my side." Everything else goes in a flash, as you become more overwhealmed and your body stretches, your skin becomes ick, your blood preassure rises. Everything becomes pain for a moment... and then nothing.

No pain, no cold, no nothing. Just hunger, hunger for more blood. For him. But humans will have to do, because you are just so hungry you can't think straight. Did you ever? Because now. It's just your hunger and him what matter. "You are doing well, Y/N. Prove yourself worth it, and I will have an special gift for you." How could you reject that?

[r0w0fie]

Update on the CK situation:

I'm shocked I'm saying this but, instead of Carnivorekitty giving it some time to settle down & to use that time to grow . . He just deleted/deactivated his art accounts???

His Tumblr has been deactivated & his Ck twitter account has been seemingly deleted. The Lurking for Love twitter account is still up.

Edit 2: his art twitter is still up but the tag have been changed & the account privated. Any use of the direct link to the old tag doesn't work, hence why I thought it was possibly deleted.

He has changed his now deactivated Tumblr name to "don't make your fanbase on here" which says alot . . .

His Carrd has also been cleared out, including the Toyhouse account. Although his Ko-fi & Itchio are still up. You can see a preview to the old links in the second screenshot below.

Edit 1: his carrd has also been deleted now

He has renamed his previous Carnivorekitty twitter account to yeehawcrow and has privated it.

The background image was changed after the situation. This is just another jab at his fanbase, same as all his other account name changes.

His Niwi account, the one with the transphøbia & -ism interactions, is still up but has been privated.

The name change is still up which shows that he still stands by his views. Do with that info as you will, just no harassment towards said account please & thanks.

I hope this is the last time I have to say anything or update people on the issue.

Some personal thoughts & feelings under the cut ⬇️

I am now further disappointed with Tom. I do not know if he said anything before deactivating, like a farewell or a "will be back eventually".

If he had of simply given it some time, let the dust settle, realign his mental state and then try to figure out why this was so hurtful to his fanbase. He could of had a chance to return & continue on; if he wanted too.

Of course, not everyone would be happy to see him return. Not everyone would even interact with his accounts or be willing to be in the fandom again. But it was still an option, especially if he uses this as a learning opportunity, not just for past fans or present fans, but for himself.

I personally won't be supporting Tom unless some serious growth & acknowledgment is shown. Unfortunately, I don't think thats going to happen any time soon due to the examples & links above. It might never happen or it might take months/years.

I hope Tom is safe & I hope everyone else is safe aswell. Make sure to look after yourselves & reach out to those you trust if you're not doing too hot xx

For now I will change my hyperfocus from Jacob & co onto other games & characters. It hurts to do so but there are so many good peeps out there & we shouldn't be afraid to trust them. I hug anyone who now is because of this situation 🫂

I will forever be into Milo (@/solarchaotica's oc) & will be getting back into LoveLock so I can bully my fave character Walter even tho Seb is the fan fave lol

My personal feelings on all of this? It's shitty.

People defending all of the horrible evidence, without saying they don't agree with aspects of these "questionable" simply because they want to defend CK; is shitty.

People putting things in other people's mouths, is shitty.

People burying their heads in the sand because they want to ignore it all; is shitty.

People giving excuses, even excuses as to why they are ignoring this issue or ignoring certain parts of this issue, is shitty.

People who genuinely support these types of beliefs, only joined in because they're genuinely phobic & aren't even in the L4L/murdersim community; is shitty. (& Yes I've seen it happen)

People who harrass anyone involved, Tom himself, is shitty.

People who use this as evidence to defend other past users actions, is shitty.

People who lash out their hurt through nasty words & ill wishes upon others, is shitty.

People who say anything about Tom or others ky$-ing themselves, are super mega shitty like wtf??? Don't do that???? I only saw one person but still????

It's all just super mega shitty and I hate it so much and it hurts so much to see other people be so so hurt and just aaahshsgskxbdjfb. I cried the first day, not because of my personal feelings, but because of others talking openly about how hurt this made them. Seeing my friends be hurt. Strangers be hurt. Mutuals be hurt. I could still cry if I let myself dwell on it for too long.

I wish things could of ended up better. When I posted on the situation I tried to tell peeps to keep an open mind & to look after themselves. I just hope this is a learning experience for alot of people.

[tiredlilguy]

" Eh... That Party was Dumb Anyways."|DILFTOBER W3

lost? main masterlist. / dilftober masterlist.

a/n: i apologize, this is a little shorter than what i usually write for smut, but i hope you enjoy regardless! <3 i had fun with the idea, but it's been a really busy week for me, so i haven't really been able to write more plot. to be honest though, i'm pretty satisfied with the writing :P enjoy! this is also on A03!

pairing: Aizawa Shota X GN!Reader cw: NSFW 18+ (if you are a minor, you will be blocked), my shitty take on art talk because i go to an art school LMFAO, proofread but there may possibly be some small mistakes desc: you and your boyfriend to out to a fancy party, though you both end up just going home and enjoying each other's company instead. ~~ kink this week: bondage

A warm hand on your lower back was already enough indication to tell you exactly what he wanted.

You knew Aizawa wasn’t too accustomed to parties like you were. He’d usually just roll out of bed, not bother his appearance, and step right out the door. However, tonight was different. You were both asked to come to an event, and not just any kind, but the particular kind that you knew Aizawa hated: drinking expensive champagne in some mansion, dressed in clothes that are far too expensive to even be worn, and talking like you’re the smartest person in the room.

However, he didn’t want to upset you by not attending, not to mention the outfit you chose to wear for yourself was eye-catching: a black suit that was slim to your body, showing off your curves, but was still classy enough. He could stare at you for hours: not to mention your beauty already were had his mind running in circles. So he thought, well, what’s the problem in showing you off just a little bit? He wasn’t one to brag, but having you under his arm made him feel a sense of completion.

Currently, you were talking in a group of people: yours and his coworkers. This particular group of people he wasn’t close with, and so opted to just stay silent as he watched you talk. He would look at other’s responses on occasion, but for the most part, his eyes stayed on you: enjoying the little gestures that you made as you excitedly talked about things you were passionate about. Eventually, the hand that was on your arm traveled down to meet your lower back. It was subtle, but you jumped slightly at the contact, your breath hitching. You thought for a second, finishing up your conversation with the group and excusing yourself. Aizawa followed you, his arm still on your lower back as you walked towards the exit.

“ You tired, Shouta?” you looked up at him, champagne glass in hand.

“ Very,” he heaved, hand moving to wrap around your waist.

You huffed, your empty hand running through your hair as you tilted your head up to finish the champagne glass that was in your hand. Once again, Aizawa’s eyes were observant, watching you gulp up the last bit of alcohol before you placed it on a tray that was sitting on a table right next to the exit.

“ Hm?” you raised a brow, looking up at him.

“ That was hot,” a rare grin crept up on the side of his face, his tired eyes lighting up just a bit with excitement.

You blushed, an open palm pushing at his side a little bit, of course not enough for him to let go,” Jeez… It’s still kind of early. How about we just watch a movie at home or something?”

“ I’d honestly prefer that over going to a party where we just talk about boring art,” Aizawa shrugged.

“ Fair enough,” you softly chuckled,” Art talk is just an excuse for people to sound smart.”

“ I wonder if it’s just because people want to stand on a pedestal… thinking that art is something that needs to be hyper-analyzed. So dumb…,” he guided you both to the train station, his hand a little tighter on your waist as you both walked down the stairs.

Your chuckle turned into a little bit of a laugh,” You might be right, babe. I think people just wanna make sense of everything, and sound cool. Sometimes the artists don’t even want to be hyper-analyzed themselves, but anyway…

Your place or mine?”

…

You were both slumped over Aizawa’s comfy leather couch, watching some low-budget horror movie. You were lying on your back, now just dressed in one of your boyfriend’s baggy sweatshirts. You weren’t wearing any pants at the moment, though. He was on top of you, head resting on your chest as your fingers were lightly combing through his raven logs. You couldn’t help but let out a little bit of a laugh as he couldn’t really quite… fit on the couch himself, his fit dangling over the arm of the couch. Then again, it wasn’t really built for two people to lay down on.

“ I’m getting a little tired,” you admitted,” Should we- mm…!”

You felt a pair of lips smash into yours, though a little bit gently, but it did catch you off guard. Closing your eyes, you returned the kiss back, You didn’t know what to do with your hands for a second, but that quickly melted away as Aizawa pushed his lips a little deeper into yours. Your hands moved across his hand, pulling him in a little closer to you. You felt his hands move down to your thighs, his calloused hands touching your skin with just the right amount of pressure. You felt shivers run up your spine as a familiar heat built up in your stomach. You kissed him back just a little rougher, before pulling away for air.

Aizawa titled his head.

“ S-sorry,” you admitted, sitting up just a bit as he did the same,” You just caught me off guard, so I was kind of losing oxygen.”

“ Hm… cute,” he chuckled to himself, lifting you up,” How about we move?”

You nodded in response, letting him carry you both off of the couch.

…

…

…

“ H-hah! Wait…!” you were breathlessly begging as you were currently tied to the bed. Your wrists were tied above you, a rope that was tied around your chest in a diamond-shaped harness and ended at your waist, keeping you in place. The rope was soft on your skin, but tight enough to stop you from squirming so much, something that your lover didn’t like too much. Though he had to admit, he couldn’t help but enjoy the little reactions to his touches.

It was cute, watching you pathetically struggle against him.

You felt his hot tongue on your ear, gently licking at the shell making you shiver.

“ Heh… It’s cute, watching you try to push me away, baby,” he chuckled against your ear, making your lower body squirm,” You have no idea how much I wanted to tie you up with that outfit you were wearing tonight.”

His tongue moved down to your neck, a trail of saliva following down. You wanted to move, tugging at the rope.

“ Ah ah ah,” he sang against your neck,” Don’t move, baby. Don’t want you to get rope burns on your pretty skin.”

You nodded in response, trying to relax yourself into the mattress. However, the little touches of his hands on your hips only made it harder. You tried to squirm away as he left a couple of hickies and soft bite marks on your neck and shoulders, eventually working his way down to your chest.

He stopped, looking up at you,” So good and so pretty… Wish you could see.”

“ Can you p-please…? Ah-!” you couldn’t finish your sentence, moaning out as you felt one of his fingers tease your hole.

“ What’s that, love,” he asked, a hand cupping his ear mockingly.

“ I just want you to fu- uh! Ngh! H-hey..!,” Aizawa teased you once more, a digit entering inside you without warning. You let out a frustrated moan at him, noticing a smirk come to his face. A pout came to your face as you impatiently stomped your foot into the mattress.

“ Can’t help you if I don’t know what you want, baby,” he leaned down, kissing up from your stomach to your lips before inside ringing another digit, his fingers swirling in your arousal.

“ Th-that’s ‘cause your being mean-!,” you said a little muddled, but tried your best to articulate your words,” I just want you t-to… hah… f-fuck me…! Please fuck me!”

“ Such filthy words from a pretty mouth,” your lover smirked, his fingers coming out of you with a lewd pop as he wiped them off with your thigh. “ Alright, I’ll give you what you want,” he said, sitting himself up as he pulled down his black sweatpants just enough to reveal his boxers, freeing his length.

You nervously shifted your hips at his length, seeing how big he was. He was quick to quell your worries, spitting in his hand to slick you up. He leaned over you as he placed his spit-filled palm at your entrance, kissing you gently. He was slow to insert himself in you, placing a hand on your side as he slowly pushed into you. You whined against his lips, kissing him back weakly as he continued, eventually bottoming out.

“ F-fuck,” he let out a sigh breaking the kiss. You let out a couple of breaths, trying to get used to the stretch. Eventually, you nodded, allowing him to move. He moved his hips, slow at first though. Lazily pulling out before pushing himself back into you. You moaned against him, wrists moving to want to pull him close. However, the rope held you down.

“ Ah-! C-come closer,” you whined,” I w-want to be close t-to you.”

Shouta chuckled, leaning down, the weight of his chest on top of yours. You enjoyed it though, especially having another warm body on yours. This is usually where you’d have your hands on his back, but to your dismay, your hands were still tied up.

Lewd sounds filled the room as he continued to thrust into you. Your moans and breaths of air followed as you felt yourself come closer, his movements becoming sloppier as he tried to move faster.

“ Cumming,” he warned you. You nodded,” M-me too.” That warmth coming up in your chest, practically ready to burst. You both reached your climax, bodies tense as he released into you and you made a mess of yourself.

He weakly pulled out, a huff as he slumped down on the bed beside you. You let out a little laugh at his lazy gesture. You were both getting a little older to where making love seemed to be a lot more exhausting than usual, not like you minded.

Aizawa was quick to pull you close to him though, his stubble brushing up against you as he kissed your cheek. His hands moved up to untie your wrists, and each knot came out easily with a little twist. Eventually, you could put your arms down once again.

“ Did you want to go again?” he offered, despite how tired he knew he was, he was still willing to make you satisfied if you were still a little frustrated.

“ N-not really,” you shook your head,” I’m tired.”

“ Ok,” he hummed, throwing the rope away and pulling you into his chest.

Before you knew it, you were both asleep, arms around each other as you let out soft snores.

[also if you want, please consider getting me a coffee or commissioning me ;) no pressure ofc!!! i understand that we're all in different circumstances/situations, any support of any kind is appreciated <3]

[queerandcartoons]

i took as many screenshots of the doors in The Amazing Digital Circus's "bedroom" hallway

i'm getting really into The Amazing Digital Circus, and noticed the doors when Pomni, Ragatha, and Jax went to go meet Kaufmo.

before we begin, which i'll put below the cut, please excuse me bad screenshots. Spoilers below, obviously!

We have the recognizable characters-

Ragatha, Jax, Gangle, Kinger, Pomni, and Zooble.

We then have Kaufmo-

I'm separating him cause a) the above section has six, and six is an even number and b) he'll soon have an X on his face, most likely next time we see him.

Speaking of X's on the face- there are a LOT of characters with X's crossed over their faces.

Notably, we have Queener, the only named character (that i know of) that is off-screen "abstracted" and therefore placed in the cellar-

Now here is my X-ed out character door spam and shitty screenshot collection, arranged from most "clear" to least "clear", which is dictated by camera angle and by screen quality-

We have- 1) Yellow sad clown with (bunny?) long ears and blue collar. 2) a orange/yellow and green Squrimle (worm on a string) 3) a yellow/orange dog 4) a purple creature, maybe with one eye? 5) a pastel blue/green sock puppet with a pink/purple stripe, blue inner ears, and a red flower (gives me the same vibes as the mouse from Bear in the Big Blue House, or maybe something else I remember watching on playhouse disney...but that's just me idk) 6) purple dragon/dinosaur with colorful scales

Here we have 1) blue 2) ???? with yellow/pink mixed in 3) ????? i genuinely don't know but it seems to be white, blending in with the background 4) colorful jester? and 5) yellow

Other doors have this on it-

This is one of those wooden dolls used as sn art reference figurine, and there are many of them. At first, I thought they were placeholders for newcomers, and this image would be replaced with the image of a character once they join the circus, but no. Later in the episode, Caine and Bubble are in a fancy restaurant dining area, and these dolls act as filler around them, "eating" at the restaurant as other patrons.

My only question is, what are these things? My best guess are the NPCs Jax mentioned at the beginning of the pilot, but to be completely honest, NPCs usually aren't given rooms alongside the main characters. We also see them around, simply existing. First when Pomni is searching for Caine and sees one in a bathtub, and second, when Caine and Bubbles are in a nice restaurant, with the wooden dolls serving as other patrons

[nightwing-bootylicious]

Batfam as shit my mother and I say on this roadtrip, Pt. 5

Any one of the Batfam: hey, where is my [insert object here]

Steph: well if it was up your butt, you'd know it.

-

Cass: *accidentally disappears into the crowd, without meaning to*

-

Bruce: *awkwardly stands in the gift shop doorways, watching his kids go nuts over the shitty plastic stuff*

-

Jason: I'm so sick of pizza.... *three hours later* hey do you want pizza?

-

Duke: am I a bad person for eating a whole giant cookie??

Dick: food is not earned. Food is enjoyed. Eat everything.

-

Dick: we need to be there around nine am, so-

Steph: AM?!?!

Dick: yeah, so we need to be up and going around 8-

Steph: if you're going to wake me up at 8 in the morning, you BETTER have a can of Red Bull in your hands.

-

Steph: *gets down on the floor to put her sneakers on* oooooooaaaaf-

Steph: classic dad noise right there.

-

Bruce: *wrangling his children* I'm a ticket. A ticket to the crazy show.

-

Tim: hey look... i didn't even drink my Red Bull i made you buy me...

Bernard: and yet you've been up and active! Look at you go!

Tim: I whined and cried about it, but I did it!

Dick (gray) and Jason (Blue)

-

Jason: *unironically buys all his friends comically large pencils*

-

Dick: *grabs a double of every free Pamphlete he finds at museums for Cass to have pretty pictures to look at*

-

Bruce: I'm doing 80 (mph), what more do you want from me?

Damian: 110?

Bruce: excuse me?

Damian: I am joking... obviously.

Bruce: if you ever get caught going 110, you're paying your own car insurance.

-

Cass:

-

Art Museum worker: half of the second floor is closed due to a new installation being set up, but there's a children's activity center and some local student artwork up there as well.

Steph: thank you!!

Steph: is it weird that I kinda want to go do a little kids activity?

Tim: do it, you won't.

Steph: *to the attendant* hi. I'd like to make a print?

Attendant: ok! You're going to draw what you want on this piece of paper, then we're going to trace that onto a piece of foam, ok?

Steph: ok!!

Steph:

Steph: I want to draw something kinda silly.... hey kid, what's really silly?

Little girl: *giggles* sticking your tongue out!

Steph: that sounds like a great idea. I'm gonna draw a picture of Damian with his tongue sticking out.

Steph: *drawing the outline*

Steph: does this look good?

Little girl: yeah!!

Steph: fantastic.

*later*

Steph: dude.... you are NOT going to believe this....

Tim: what's up?

Steph: I tagged Damian as the print I made of his tongue sticking....

Tim: did he demand you take it down?

Steph: worse.

Tim: worse?

Steph: he made it his profile picture.

Tim: HE FUCKING DID WHAT?!

-

Duke: they're called smart phones for a reason

Duke: although at times they can be INCREDIBLY stupid.

[rivastraut]

Okay this question is gonna be a bit more serious

What is your attitude towards writing plot that includes problematic faves? Do you think writing a good redemption arc for f/o who kills people important?

How accurate is this redemption dynamic for Mike x Kleon? I look at many wholesome arts of them and it makes me think, did they manage to understand that all drug game is nothing good for them?

Did Mike manage to understand that he isn't doomed to do horrible things, that he can do good and is able to get redemption? Who undertood first that "the game" is fucked up, Mike or Kleon?

Imagine them slowly realizing what they really do, how Mike comes up to painful realization that he never will be able to actually help people he cares for by supporting the drug world and with his rising feelings towards Kleon, Mike understands that he only puts the person he loves in meaningless danger for nothing... and maybe his last meet up with Walter never happens and Mike doesn't ever give this nasty speech about "the good thing that worked like clockwork" because he can't come up with excuses aymore. He was forced to realize the terrifying truth that he can't protect anyone staying in the game and what is the cost of his illusions and how the one who pays isn't just Mike, but also the person he grew to understand and love deeply.

All these thoughts are pretty dark as anything in canon brba is. But imagine what a great and beautiful dynamic can be created, what tragic and inspiring moments it can bring. A story about two ruthless killers who open up their human side to each other and bond, slowly becoming better people through all suffering and obstacles

I really like this in depth question! Yes, Mike (and Kleon) have done some bad things that can never be fixed like killing and being loyal to a fault to a drug empire… I do like to imagine that they both try to bring out the best in each other, like Mike does not think he is worthy of being loved by Kleon because he’s an old man with an ugly past, but by being loved regardless by Kleon it makes Mike realize there is hope for him to be better, a second chance.

I think Kleon first realizes that the drug game is no good but both him and Mike realize too late once theyre in too deep, that’s Kleon’s whole life rlly like I need to rewrite his story on toyhouse but he got into the life of crime as a kid for the thrill of it/coping with his shitty home life, and he hasn’t really known anything since. But with Mike he realizes he can get that normal happily ever after marriage with him, that they can elope with the money they’ve accumulated from their job and live out a happy domestic peaceful ranch life in Alaska.

Of course this happy ending isnt without its angst though because yes they still carry that weight of being criminals but if anything, at least they get out of that dangerous lifestyle and live a normal loving life together

[unscrupulousartist]

Kickstarter Update #2

Cross-posted from Kickstarter:

A few things I'm looking forward to in October...

Hullo, hullo! Welcome to Update #2.

First and foremost, thank you to everyone who's supported my campaign so far. :) This first week I was hit by an influx of spam marketers and questionable conversations that, while a shitty achievement badge in general, I was unprepared for emotionally; but each and every one of you has been a reminder that there are real people out there who want to support real art.

Speaking of supporting real art... there are some exciting things coming up in October that I'm looking forward to supporting in my life, and perhaps it'll be stuff you'd want to support, too.

IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER 

October 15th—Confluence ft. Publishing Goblin | @publishinggoblin

Confluence is on my radar because of my low-key obsession with Publishing Goblin—'cause come on, how great of a name is that? I've supported previous Publishing Goblin projects and will likely support more of their projects in the future. Publishing Goblin brought me The Alleyman Tarot, will eventually bring me The Hot Housewife Tarot, and has been steadily working through several poetry projects. As a bit of a goblin myself, I've got a starry eyed vested interest in seeing another cool creative make art and succeed in this world; for it's art that makes the rest of it worth living.

Confluence has beautiful artwork, a trusted artist working with a diverse team, and is a perfect excuse to throw dice into trays and laugh with friends. Full disclosure: this is likely to be a nice little gift for my TTRPG loving step-son, and we'll see about bullying him into running a little campaign for me and his dad. 

October 22nd—A Fool's Errand by J Strautman | @strautmaskreplica & B Marsollier | @b-marsollier

In other TTRPG news, your friends and mine over at Planet Arcana have designed their own tarot-based system.  A Fool's Errand puts your party into the world of Planet Arcana, with it's lavish landscapes, brilliant beasts, and arcane insight. You don't need to be familiar with the podcast to enjoy the game; but if you're looking for an award-winning group of Canadians playing through a unique Tarot-Inspired universe, it's definitely worth a listen. 

Playtesting our own little calamity has been a highlight of my still-very-novice RPG experiences. I get to live out my piscean fantasties as an angry waterbreathing aquean composite, and weave a tale of prophet and mystery with some storytelling friends. We're only a few sessions into our campaign, but it promises to be a fun experience. 

Sometime in October, Probably—Refugium by Simon Roy | @simon-roy

And I would be remiss not to include my favourite comics on my list. Refugium is the third book in Simon Roy's Griz Grobus series, following the eponymous first book Griz Grobus and the second, Miramar. Simon's a fantastically detailed comic artist and works with a wonderful colourist, Sergey Nazarov, to bring this galaxy-spanning universe to life. It's already funded, but you can buy the backlog or support Simon on Patreon while you wait for whatever he makes next. I'm trying to be patient while I wait for my copy of Refugium to arrive—hopefully sometime this month.   

Can you think of anything else exciting happening this month? Let me know. :) I always like finding new artists to swoon over. 

Stay Rested, Audrey

[gildeddlily]

more thoughts ab chuuya cause no one compares

was just looking on shitty bsd memes and realised (a little late ig) that 18 Chuuya didn't wear his black coat.

so yes have to overthink it. (a lot of spoilers from Stormbringer, maybe Dead Apple and Beast)

his hat is from Rimbaud, even if Mori physically gave it to him, it's the symbol of his trust to the Port Mafia since he swore to give himself to the organisation. but at least in his first year or so, he didn't really care about the Mafia. He saw himself as a mafioso, but wasn't nearly as tied to it. He was tied to the Flags and the Sheep and to his friends in the Mafia, but what happened in Stormbringer kind of left him with nothing but the Mafia (I love the idea of Chuuya staying in contact with Adam and Shirase, but they're so far from him so it's difficult), and a new bond to it. He learned about himself, so him staying there became something different. His hat is important to him and his bond with Rimbaud and Verlaine, who freed him from the lab (and tried to kill him btw) so yes, it was there from the beginning.

his choker? we don't know much- we don't know anything. He didn't have it when he met Dazai, ofc, but in the "don't forget that you're my dog" scene, probably set after a few days, Chuuya wears a choker, probably from Kouyou like his new clothes, and we see him wearing it even after seven years.

Plain black, probably leather, but the problem is with bones that removed the metal thing in the middle- something that pains me deeply, considering that in official anime arts THEY GAVE HIM THE METAL STRAP-THING SO WHY REMOVE IT IN THE ANIME ITS NOT SO DIFFICULT TO DRAW but yeah

the first is a dead apple illustration, the other 22!Chuuya, and even in Beast he has it. So, Kouyou gave it to him, but since we haven't got illustration for the fifteen era (at least not for the "you're my dog" scene) and Fifteen still has to reach the last part of the light novel, we don't know about Chuuya's first choker. If I have to be honest, I have two headcanons and I'm not able to choose between them: -Kouyou gifted him his choker and he wears it for more than seven years. like Rimbaud indirectly gave him his hat, Kouyou gave him a choker. They have a close relationship: she's his mentor when he's young for at least a year (she's not mentioned in Stormbringer and Chuuya already has an important position in the Mafia so her training likely already ended), and even when they're equals as executives Chuuya values her opinion and they share a strong bond. So yeah, the choker represents their bond -Dazai gifted him a new choker, the one with the metal thing, a little before Stormbringer. he even had an excuse to do so: Chuuya took his place as "head" of the mafia's jewels trade, so he could have give Chuuya the choker as a symbol of that transition of power/role (the Mafia thing- gifting things). Chuuya likely hated it but wear it anyway cause yk fashion and manners (that draw of Chuuya and Albatross vibing together after Dazai gifted his dog the choker is my life) and that's it. And yes also for the "after four years he still wears it"

but the coat. what the hell is it doing here? Chuuya wears it in his first days maybe, but ditched it, considering that he doesn't wear it in Stormbringer and Dead Apple

(I'm trying to understand what the hell he's wearing in dead apple and I'm not being successful) He didn't wear it when he was eighteen. We don't see him in the second season's light novel adaptation, but in the official arts he's always wearing his jacket, not his coat. So he likely started to wear it again after Dazai's deflection, but who gave it to him again, who invited him to do it? He's sentimental when talking ab his clothes and hair, so it was either him wanting to wear it as his importance and popularity rose, as he learned how to be the successful-executive-strongest-man he perfectionated when alone (he didn't get a new partner, since there wasn't another diamond- he was alone in this sense), or Mori made him wear it.

it's pretty obvious that the bond that Chuuya shares with the Mafia is nothing compared to his loyalty to the people in it. he's loyal to Mori, since he welcomed him in the Mafia, and he respects him as his boss: the "what does it mean to be a good leader" points out how Chuuya's failure as a leader (kind of- that's how he perceives it) branded his mentality, and for him Mori is a good leader, one ready to sacrifice himself for his city- so, granted respect (but with how Mori "clinged" to Dazai after his deflection that respect probably faltered a bit) he's loyal to Kouyou, like we said, as she was his mentor. he's loyal to his friends in the Mafia- they exists, so no, he wasn't isolated for four years. in Stormbringer while drugged and tortured he hallucinated and thought ab, citing him "the Flags, his friends in the Sheep, his friends in the Mafia" so he had a social life that didn't involve Dazai after the Flags' death, thank you.

most important, he's loyal to Dazai, more than anyone else. and it has nothing to do with "he follows him after Oda's death" "he joins the ADA". the beautiful and heart-shattering thing about their bond is that it has nothing to do with the Port Mafia, the ADA, Yokohama or the whole world. They're one soul in two bodies, they're the other half of each other. They're able to live without the other in their life, as in they can survive with not being together (when Dazai died in Beast he went batshit crazy. in every universe, dimension, Dazai had Chuuya near, or at least, the other couldn't be alive without the other, cause they won't stop saving each other like it's a fricking sport). Dazai leave the Mafia, and the Mafia doesn't know ab his whereabouts (Chuuya doesn't know nothing ab it, maybe he believed in the "he offed himself" rumor, but it isn't likely)

Mori is a manipulative bastard, who cares deeply about his city and the Mafia, but still an asshole who seized the opportunity. the idea of him giving Chuuya the coat he refused to wear for three years is sick but the most intriguing. as a sign that Chuuya was finally fully loyal to the Mafia, and the Mafia alone. no Sheep, Flags, or Dazai, only the Mafia and the people in it. he was finally theirs, and the coat was a sign of that.

now think about Dazai meeting Chuuya again after four years of refusing to gather informations ab his ex-partner, and seeing him wears that coat. the last "four years passed for everyone" sign.

[watercolorsam-arts]

I have strong feelings about people saying “if you say genAi is bad when writing, you’re ablest” like there hasn’t been hundreds of other tools that don’t scrape data from who knows where. Voice to text is the main one, don’t have to spell, can fix it later, and you can combine it with other tools.

Also for anyone who uses these in arguments like “if you say ai is bad then these must be too” Auto Correct is not generative ai, it’s an algorithm that gives you the most relevant correction. iPhone auto fill is not generative ai, it’s an adaptive algorithm that adjusts to your word usage. Grammar checkers (for the most part) are also algorithms that use grammar rules to double check your work! These tools are wonderful and I personally rely on auto correct and auto fill with my dyslexia. Lots of people like to lump algorithms into the “Ai” category, and while “technically” true, ai (artificial intelligence) is basically just a learning algorithm, it adapts to accommodate the newly imputed data.

Generative Ai also does not make anything “new” it mushes together the data it has and makes a glob of what it found that fits the “prompt”

And writing is hard! It’s hard for people who are good at writing! Writing is a skill you have to practice just like anything else. Being creative is also a skill, a muscle you can train! Write that shitty story, draw the worst comic known to man, flex those muscles because otherwise they’ll atrophy. And they don’t have to be finished pieces, or even shown publicly. I have hundreds of wips and tests and just experiments of something new I wanted to try.

There is assistive technology that don’t steal from hundreds of thousands (if not billions) of people. There are adaptive grips for paintbrushes and pencils, voice to text, pens that record audio, digital art programs that help with stabilization (the ability to undo is also nice). Some assistive tech is expensive, I’ll admit that, but depending on what you need, a lot of it is free tech people use without a second thought.

Idk, I just, as a writer and an artist who has dyslexia and chronic pain/migraines (among other things) it feels like people who would never actually use or “need” any assistive things in the first place use it as an excuse to take the easy way out if that makes any sense? It doesn’t feel like the supposed people that are “unable to make things like this” are any of the people using the ableism argument, it feels like the people that want the final product without any of the work…

(Also, I might be wrong on some of the tech things, if you know more about it, let me know, I’ll look into it more and edit the post, I’m mostly running on 4 hours of sleep, sugar, and ibuprofen at this point)

[kinemonsassbiter]

MY THOUGHTS ON YAMATO

Yamato has a mixed rep in fandom, because someone can't stand her while others adore. It would be obvious what i myself think about this oni through my text.

To be short I'm her slander /s. And if i want to make it long...

I have several big problems with Yamato that makes it hard for me to enjoy this character in any sense.

1. She doesn't feel as if this character should even belong in here.

Feels as if Yamato either from absolutely different anime or as if she decided to came in plot too late. I'm not talking about how OP Yamato is (even if it is kinda true and makes her look a bit like Mary Sue), if that was the only problem i would not mind it any sense abd be be just very happy. Yamato just... doesn't sit with me right, she got too late into arc to really gave her space to show out. Despite how much i love Wano there was no way on adding whole new important character right in 3rd act at fucking final battle AND make it not stand out as something unexpected (in a bad way). I'm very happy that she didn't sailed with Strawhats, but it makes her words on joining Luffy & co even more strange because...

2. It makes Yamato useless and unnecessary plot device.

Not just in sence that Yamato would be unnecessary in team but just in general. Most of her actions either can get cut off and nothing is going to change, or that action could've been done by anyone but her. Luffy would have beat Kaido either way, Momonosuke would have overcome own fears either way, etc. Her only important part of story - is Ace flashback. And even it feels for me...forced. That's all. The saddest part is - Yamato in end of acr is exactly THE SAME character we first in her first appearance. She wanted to be free and be Oden - she still wants to be free and be Oden. No change. Yamato don't have any mental conflicts at this point, even these little that we were shown are happening in flashbacks and not in our time. That's really bad. Even her conflicts about self-identity got wasted because...

3. "I'm Oden" thing is not funny.

This joke was funny the first time, the second time, the others time it was rather annoying at best and creepy and worst. I know why Yamato does that - thanks to Kaido being a shitty father - but it is not an excuse for this obsession looking rather less disturbing. I kinda feel sad for Momo and Kin to be honest. Imagine seeing some stranger calling themselves with name of your dead father/friend that you cared for very much. It is kinda better in anime but in manga it's rather makes Yamato look more unlikable (and Oda knows that for sure). She adores and respects Oden sooo much yet doesn't show it to his son and friend(with not respecting their plead to stop), isn't it kinda fucked up? Just imagine how good of character arc it would be if Yamato actually was able to understand that it isn't healthy, grow out from it and rethink own choice and accept own personality as Yamato and not pretend to he someone else? But we didn't get it in any place) (btw if i will see someone tagging Yamato's art with Oden's name once more I'm going to fucking die. I want to see OTHER hot ass tall himbo thank you)

4. Her personality is a cake with nothing.

Expect that Oden thing there was nothing interesting for me to look at. Yes another silly himbo. And? We already saw characters like this before, why i should care about other one?

I feel like i can go for a very long time on other parts on why i don't like this character and think she is overrated, but this is the biggest problems i thought about while re-reading one piece.

I hope she isn't going to actually join the Strawhats either way unlike Momonosuke and Kin'emon (who i think deserved it way more)

If you will say that I'm just simping over other chars and not being rational - Yes. That's all.

[princeandrogyne]

this is super long so first of all sorry and second of all as always free to trash it if it sucks or you don’t really want to bother. also thinking about it now tumblr might nuke this because the word count is very wordy so also if shit glitches out lmk I’ll try my best to repair any misunderstanding or egregious typo. but of course no response necessary even though I love open dialogue I obviously understand I wrote a whole fucking essay here and sometimes that’s just like. very overwhelming. no rush and no pressure forever and always. I know the possibility of people hearing me out is always lessened with the increase of yapping I do. I don’t blame anyone for that.

wanted to start this off by saying I have no grand delusions of saving anyone. I am already highly doubtful what I say really does anything to people I know in real life because I know people are resistant to hear things they already discarded, so of course it’s not like I expect this deluge of words on a screen to mean much to anyone, let alone you. but maybe I’d still regret it if I just turned away. ah, who am I kidding? I regret everything I do, even the small details and meaningless actions I take. I regret every word I say, usually. I suppose I am lucky in a sense that the powers that be pumped me with the anxiety chemical more so than the depression one. I’ve never really been in your place before, but I can understand it. I’ve definitely thought about killing myself, but it’s always ironically been tampered by the very thing that causes me to spiral. anxiety is a survival mechanism after all, and the fear of regretting my choice, of everything changing for the better the instant I give up always pulls me back. the one good thing about anxiety is it gives you a fear of death even when the rest of you doesn’t.

sorry for talking about myself (yet again) for so long. I’m getting to the point. basically, I’m sorry you’re going through this and you should know there are people, so many people who care about you. they want to see you alive. active. they want to hear your words or see your art or just see what kind of person you’ll grow into. hell, I barely know who you are and am communicating with you through an anonymous message on tumblr yet I care an honestly greater amount for you than people I’ve known in real life (granted a lot of the time those people were sort of shitty but I digress. I don’t think you’re a bad person. the opposite, in fact) the absurdity of this communication (and how very gen z of us) still hasn’t made me care less. I again, being a bunch of words on a screen, don’t know you very well, but I think you really don’t deserve to be in this position. you don’t deserve to be pushed into hopelessness, nobody does, but it makes me genuinely kind of angry that young, talented, well-spoken, interesting people end up feeling like this, just because of the realities of who you are, the things that make you interesting and clever but different brutally colliding with the deeply shitty world and country we live in.

but I can also understand how nice platitudes don’t mean much. being dead is kind of the worlds best excuse to stop caring about what others think, even if they think well of you. and people, it’s always hard to really be convinced they actually care, or if they’re trying to simply protect themselves from feeling bad in the future. I still can’t read people. I rarely trust people. I get that. I guess if you don’t trust people, trust that change is inevitable, and maybe it’ll just take time (as all things do) to see the changes. you mentioned half of the reasons you had to keep living were gone. what if more reasons arise? actually, not what if, more reasons WILL arise. it’s the nature of nature. inertia is antithetical to existence. Is this valuable advice? I don’t know. I have more words I could put here but I’m not a therapist or a writer even and I don’t want to be misunderstood if I do try and give direct actual advice. I guess I still know my limitations confined to this hyperspecific and imperfect mode of communication…I don’t know. allow me to just simply join a chorus of support, of hope and of getting as close to something we could call genuinely as possible.

I know I said I wasn’t coming into this with delusions of grandeur, but by god I wish I could express something so beautiful to convince someone to keep living. how egotistical of me, really. yet this isn’t really that, and I’m sorry I can’t do that. as I finish writing this I’m even kind of confused why I’ve spent so long on a piece of writing that’s probably shit and probably more of an annoyance than anything. forgive me for the dramatics but something deeper than logic compels me to try speaking here. is this what a parasocial relationship is. is this what the internet was made for? maybe I’m a hopeless fool who thinks there’s more that life can offer for people like me or you. maybe I can’t help trying to preserve something I feel is valuable.

I hope you don’t kill yourself. I feel like you have more to say. I hope the people around you can reinforce that, I hope they don’t stop giving you reasons to live. the world has more to give you. I have more to say.

Please never be sorry for talking to me. In fact stop apologizing for it altogether. 

I have anxiety as well, but its drowned out by disdain for life and being alive. I used to be very scared of heights, and roads, and dead things, and i didn’t go outside very much because i was terrified of even scraping my knees. And now i don’t care. If i hurt or die then peace is upon me. The only thing that really gives me anxiety now is staying alive.

I like that you talk about yourself. I am getting to know you. However i think you are a bit strange. That anyone could find myself “talented, well-spoken, interesting, or clever” is… Disheartening. There are much better people than me to attribute these to, i hope you get to meet them. And i dont think you should be sorry that I am going through anything. It’s not your fault. Im certain I was built to experience bad things until I die. 

My inertia declines with every passing day. I am mentally very slow. My brain has had palpable degradation of function for quite some time. I also am becoming emotionally less … careful, and physically i am doing probably worse than ever. I am so slow. I don’t think i want more reasons to live in the first place. I don’t want to be kept here anymore. 

It’s ok that you cannot find anything to convince me. Many people have tried. I’m a bit of a lost cause. You’re not egotistical. You’re just trying to be a good person and do what you’re supposed to do. I think you should stop seeing anything I write as valuable though, if anything I’m taking up your time and energy. There is certainly more to life I think that can be offered to you, you have proven yourself kind and thoughtful. I don’t think that I am anything like you though.

We’ll see what happens. I don't think anything i have to say is necessary or hasn’t already been said.

[nights-at-crystarium]

Fragments - episodes 8-11 author notes

I tried keeping the ARR arc as short and snappy as possible, just get some technical art xp and set the table for the following chapters, still I ended up drawing 80+ pages (160+ full color pics) and writing three of these breakdown posts. If you missed the first two: episodes 1-3 and 4-7.

Starting with a note on the entire chapter: it’s called “found and lost” for, obviously, ViviRaha finding and losing each other, forming an X as they get a small taste of what they could’ve been as lovers, then drifting apart, but also Raha finding his purpose while losing his life, and Vivi losing the control over his life as his WoL career picks up. The next time we see him in the ShB arc, he’s lost, so fucking lost.

Now, the scene that predictably created the most confusion.

Possibly their first ever mind game that didn’t go well :’>

It’s easy to conclude that Vivi rejects Raha because he’s a virgin. An inelegantly lying virgin. While yes Vivi’s just being Vivi here, he doesn’t wanna deal with what looks like a mess of emotions in this cabboy, and he isn’t fond of the concept of lying (while not important here, this could be one of his few redeeming qualities). Had Raha been open and upfront, he would’ve acted differently. Maybe. He doesn’t know much about Raha at this point, but the awkwardness and insincerity are enough to discourage him, also he genuinely isn’t in the habit of ruining people’s first times. He may be a slut but he has a semblance of honor x’D So, in a way, he protects Raha from himself.

Sometimes kisses just happen. Without confessions or feelings. They just indulged in a moment and now? What now? Vivi doesn’t think too hard about it since it’s a regular occurence for him, Raha, being himself, spends every moment obsessing over this spark. His WoL, his WoL, his WoL, his WoL?

Ironically, this’s the last time we see them talk to each other.

They must’ve kept talking offscreen, but there’s no speech bubbles anymore until the very end of this chapter. Drifting further apart.

Raha realizes that Vivi's just fine without him. He's not WITH the WoL.

His colors naturally stand out, I cranked them even further up to make him feel out of place. Especially that teal eye, yeah.

*leans into the mic* it’s fucken wimdy

Just a visual parallel without much meaning. He has a portable edgy shadow with him at all times.

Another parallel C: Turns are tabling, Vivi may not be in love yet, but he’s definitely impressed by Raha’s singing, and realizing that there's more to him than just the gremlin he knows. This's his first ever encounter of the serious Raha.

His own expressions are vastly different when he's alone, not having to perform for anybody.

Something something facing the darkness and the light :> ..And away from each other. Yeah. Whoops.

A juxtaposition of their attitudes: a silly dreamer and a realist/doubter.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Alright, there must be more to this, eh?

Lack of communication and mutual insincerity/dishonesty. Vivi simply mirrors Raha.

Vivi's upset that this guy has basically chosen death over him. He's thrown off by the sudden change in Raha's demeanor, it shocks him into turning on his brain after a long while, alas it's too late.

The kbye could be expanded into "are you really throwing your life away? I was just beginning to get into you, thought it was mutual, where did that go? You’re choosing some destiny bs over the cool me? Screw you too then, here's something to hopefully make this uncalled-for moment unpleasant for you as well".

This's his inner monologue. He has to come up with something impactful on the spot, therefore he spits out the kbye. Well, considering the canon ShB events, if he was looking to make an impact, I daresay he succeeded :’D

Honestly I commend his ability to assess the situation and react/improvise within seconds, he did it in this scene and now again.

Of course this doesn’t automatically excuse his shitty behavior, as someone rightfully exclaimed, “Vivi how could you?!” - damned I be if this line isn’t Fragments in a nutshell x’D

I’ll always explain but never defend any of his actions.

MELTDOOOOOOOOWN \o/ He’s just so entertaining to watch when he’s agitated. I may hc him and Raha with british voices but Vivi’s body language turns him into a bit of an italian.

Raha’s being an asshole to Vivi? Debatable. To himself? Absolutely. Hence Vivi’s so upset. He rarely if ever raises his voice, this here’s one of the very few instances.

Earlier today, I posted a ficlet exploring Raha’s inner world after sealing the Tower and before putting himself to sleep. This event’s treated as suicide by everyone in Fragments.

Can’t believe the ARR arc’s over, and that it’s been half a year. I had some time to process the fact. Finally I can return to the “current” ViviRaha zone in my brain, that makes me so happy. ARR idiocy was fun to make but I live for the ShB idiocy. I’m gonna indulge SO HARD. Settle in for years of ShB fanservice. Here, have the chapter 2 cover wip :>

[milfygerard]

hi hi hi i’m sorry about the everything in life for a distraction i would love to hear your detailed thoughts on your favorite mcr albums or taylor albums or a detailed ranking of either i just love Music Opinions and also i hope things get better soon<3

thank you sm for sending in <3

im terrible at ranking so ill turn to opinions hmmmm

My favorite mcr album changed by day hour minute but i think i wanna talk about.....bullets....yeah bc bullets is so insane as just a sheer proof of concept, like an expression of raw skill and talent that was growing within this band. Rays guitar work alone was enough for it to make complete sense for major labels to be knocking at the bands door begging to suck them off and then they also had GERARD!!! And this was even before mikey really could write bass parts and frank was still not really in the band like its just ray gerard and geoff (and otter who wrote drum parts that r cool but also somehow out of his skill range? girl you MADE THEM). The fact that vampires not onky exists but was like the second or third song written? Like before mcr gerard either never wrote music or wrote shitty three chord throwaway punk that existed as an excuse to print band stickers and arent even good enough to save on tape and then you decide to start writing for real to cope with major national level trauma and your first song is SKYLINES??? and youre next songs are VAMPIRES and OUR LADY OF SORROWS???? and oh my god the vocals gerard gives on the albuk as a completely untrained vocalist who did one musical once in middle school and otherwise never sang professionally unless you count crazy kids song in breakfast monkey. and then you hear the vocals on fucking vampires???? Like gerard doesnt exactly sing like celine dion on bullets but the raw harmony work and ability to PERFORM and really stretch the emotions of a song and do whatever strange or vulnerable thing is needed to sell the track. Theres still few songs more affecting than early sunsets. Like i fully think gerard is probably the strongest vocalist in the emo scene just because of their ability to completely and utterly sell you on the songs emotions (not just anyone can sing im not okay and get away with it) and thats before all the developing technical talents both already present like how gerard can just toss a melody onto a track without thinking about it or the fact gerard did a lot of the base writing for mcr while fucking barely knowing guitar how did that even work girl. Like i havent even mentioned the lyrics??? How do you. Like you can tell both that gerard never learned how to write songs and also that gerard listens to so much music that he can just fake it anywayyheres like 2 songs with actual choruses on the album and neither of them are the self proclaimed pop song h4h which opens with a queen riff?????? ans then is like a hardcore version of a beatles pop song????dont talk to me about drowning lessons. deomolition lovers!?!?! half of these songs are just poems that gerard hammered into songs and theyre so like. genuinely so incredible and they work??like the album works! as a cohesive piece! it coheres!

and thats the first album. Id say my favorite ts album is probably evermore though i might actually have less to say on it just bc i havent had it since 2015. Evermore is just so....ANGSTY!!! it feels like a complete fulfillment of what she was exploring on folklore with the fictional framing devices and keeping the songs clearly personal while also removing herself in a way she never really has before. It feels like a level of introspection through art that taylor has always been both pushing towards and shying away from because too much introspection or strangeness or even pulling away from the diaristic idea too much never worked with where taylor was at with her career. Evermore had a new collaborator, and the massive success of folklore as well as the continued quarantine gave her both an unprescedented level of artistic isolation personal confidence and professional security that allowed her to just go "fuck it" and write fucking. cowboy like me and dorothea and coney island and closure and she GOT AWAY WITH IT!!! like the albums been out for 3 years or something like that and I still feel like i havent fully processed its existence despite listening to it constantly. It truly felt like she was unshacked and was able to write about herself while also completely pulling away from any sort of literal Truth and going crazy with concept and the way she writes feels so unconstrained from the rules she would sometimes set for herself, it felt like a natural evolution from the freedom she felt jumping into the lover era but its past the honeymoon phase and like it is pop music but its also not scared to be...not pop music if that makes sense? She really fully settles into folk as a genre for the first time and it lets her writing flourish. Songs with no choruses songs with barely any structure at all lyrics that stretch at the ends of verses and fun bouncy wordplay and just allowing herself into a characters life and seeing how it fits her. She has some straight up ren faire tracks on here liek willow is just a collection of similies and metaphors she likes smushed together over a lute and its so GOOD. It feels like she was allowed to really live in adulthood as a woman in her early thirties who creates art because she loves it and because it keeps her alive ALSO proof that she needs to keep collaborating w new ppl bc whenever she does you can feel her pushing herself harder and she becomes so willing to try these new kind of weird things that she may have never tried otherwise aughhhh!!!! i didnt even talk about coney island!!!! I love how moody and dour the whole project is it feels like November where fall drags you into a cold unforgiving winter and you're just trying to survive with your sanity and any of your personal relationships intact. its so!!! tbh its SO new england also which makes me biased. ok thats all

[magicalqueennightmare]

Sins & Amends Chapter 38

(Gif by @ banditthewriter)

Billy Russo x Female Reader (60 part story)

This follows pre- the punisher into the storyline of daredevil, punisher season 1 and beyond

This is NOT Canon Billy. This is decent human being Billy left with bad options over worse decisions

This was also posted to A03 under: WaywardGaPeach. That account and this one is the only place you'll see me post this. If you see it on any other platform/account know it's not me.

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Frank's taken by Rawlins' men

Frank was in a conference room with Madani, Micro was sitting in a room with his daughter so that left you to pace the hallway while half a dozen agents watched you like you were an insane person. Your mind hadn't stopped throwing every worse case scenario at you.

What if Billy went after Alice and Kenzie? God what if he went after Karen? Matt could fight but every form of martial arts in the world couldn't stop a bullet. Why had he done this? What type of man was he to hold you in his arms, comfort you, all the while knowing he was at the very least partially responsible for your pain?

Your attention was drawn by the door of the conference room opening. You spun around and saw Frank walking out. "Finally. I need to double check my work on you" that was the only way you could think to get a moment alone with him but Dinah shook her head "I need to speak to you first then you can patch up anyone in this building for all I care" you cut your eyes at Frank and saw the anger flash through his eyes at her pulling you into the questioning. You touched his shoulder gently on the way by "I got this"

You knew he was standing in the hall but walked in the room and let Dinah shut the door behind you. The two of you stood there for a second whether you were sizing each other up or just catching your breath you weren't sure.

She finally waved a hand towards the table "Want to sit?" You crossed your arms "I have nothing to say that goes on record" she nodded and you could see her rolling her tongue across her bottom teeth which was probably just a habit. "If you have something to ask me, ask it. If not I'm walking out of here and going to check on Frank"

She must have taken you at your word because she finally spoke "Did you know Frank killed Zubair?" "Yes" your response didn't seem to surprise her that much. Her next question did surprise you however. "What's the story with you and Russo?"

"Excuse me?" You asked uncrossing your arms. "Just seems you're smack in the middle of this. You were dating Billy during their time on operation Cerberus. The two of you were serious enough you were mentioned in his paperwork he signed on his last tour. You grew up with Frank's late wife"

You laughed and shook your head "Jesus Christ, Dinah really? Yeah Maria met me when I was young, I was a kid with a shitty home life. She made friends with me and eventually her parents took me in. Meeting Frank and Billy both was just a side effect of basically being Maria's sister. I haven't spoken to Billy outside of him calling to see if I was dead or alive after the bombs went off since right after Frank's family was massacred. You were the one most recently fucking him so should I be questioning you here?"

She was silent for a moment then opened the door "Had to ask, just to make sure" you met her eyes for a moment then nodded and walked through the door. She stopped you with a hand on your arm. You looked from it to her and she held her hand out "Only agents are allowed to be armed in here" you rolled your eyes but handed the gun over nonetheless. 

You watched her walk to her office and saw which drawer she locked it in before going to find Frank.

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

You and Frank were in an empty office. He was sitting on the desk with his shirt next to him so you could double check the stitches you'd put in his side after the bombing at the hotel. "Y/N" you knew every tone of voice and what it meant from him so you shook your head "I don't want to talk about him Frank"

Once you were done you pulled your bag back on and started to walk out the room but Frank stopped you "Sweetheart, we need to talk" you could feel the tears stinging your eyes when you turned to look at him "About how I was dumb enough to fall in love with someone evil enough to allow our family to be killed?" He closed his eyes then pulled you into a hug "You aren't dumb. I trusted him too but I promise he will pay for every ounce of pain he's caused you" "I still can't believe he betrayed us" you spoke into his chest. "I know sweetheart, I know"

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

Frank asked to talk to you alone before him and Micro with the team to recover Sarah and Zach. 

Leo was watching you carefully after Micro explained she'd be staying with you at Homeland so you smiled at her before following Frank out into the hall. 

"Y/N you know you're like a sister to me" you got an awful feeling of a goodbye from his words but didn't voice that fear. He pulled you into a tight hug then said "I'm getting Sarah and Zach back and giving Madani enough to bring down everything. Promise me no matter what happens you won't let yourself have any guilt. Maria loved you. Our kids loved you. I love you" 

"I love you too Frank" you spoke into his shoulder before he patted your back once more then released you "Madani is keeping you here as the medic for their team once they get back. Here's hoping it goes well enough you're not needed" you breathed out a mixture of a sigh and a laugh "here's hoping. Kick their asses Frank"

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

You were sitting with Leo when Sarah and Zach were escorted into the room so you slid out while to give the family a moment alone.

You spotted Dinah and Micro walking down the hall but no sign of Frank "Where's Frank?" You asked Dinah who pointed at Micro "ask him" you turned to look at him "Ok, David where is Frank?"

He wouldn't meet your face when he said "I made him a promise to let him finish this his way" you tried to hold your anger, you really did but that meant Frank was knowing facing Billy, Rawlins and God knows who or what else.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN LIEBERMAN? WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?" you screamed trying to stop yourself from throwing a punch.

You should've known that self sacrificing son of a bitch would pull something like this. He had been saying goodbye and you'd been too big of a coward to face it.

Dinah grabbed your arm and when you sent her a glare she quickly let go but pointed down the hall "Let's grab a cup of coffee. You need to calm down" "and he needs to tell us where Frank is before I shoot him for real" you didn't care that you'd just threatened someone in front of this many agents.

"How did you get your gun back?" She asked with a shocked look and you shrugged "I picked the drawer you locked it up in" she scoffed at that "I think Frank is actually your brother. Now let's go get that damn coffee and talk"

You looked at Sarah who'd just stepped into the hall stood by while you blew up at her husband "Please talk him into telling me. Frank is my family and I can't lose him" she gave the slightest movement of her head in response so you begrudgingly followed Madani down the hall.

She handed you a cup of coffee and grabbed one for herself. You were still watching Micro until him and Sarah stepped into the room the kids were in. "It's not your fault. None of this" you laughed and said "Stick with being an agent, I already have a shrink who's probably flipping her shit along with her fiancee and a few other of my friends at my sudden disappearance"

"Do you want to call them?" She asked and you nodded "I'll call one. He'll spread the word that I'm safe just unreachable" you stepped away from her to call Curtis but broke down crying when you heard his voice "Y/N? Is everything ok?" 

"It's a shit show Curt. Look I just called to say I'm safe, please let everyone else know that" you could tell he wanted to ask more but he simply said "Ok" "Bye Curt" you hung up before he could say anything else.

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

You were pacing the hall in front of the room the Liebermans were in. You felt like you were the only person here who cared Frank was being killed while all of you sat around.

You finally opened the door but before you could speak you saw the kids and Sarah was asleep so you jerked your head towards the hall for Micro to follow you.

Once he'd shut the door you didn't try to hold back the tears "David please. He's my family, he's the only tie to Maria I have left. I can't lose him. Please tell me where he is" he nodded "C'mon" and walked towards Dinah's office.

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

The three of you stood around the computer screen as Micro typed a thousand different things then a video from inside the hideout started to play and your stomach lurched. Frank was tied to a chair and someone who you were guessing was Rawlins was beating him while Billy stood by. 

You felt the pure dread that had been sitting like a rock in your stomach turn to rage. How dare he? He was just standing there while Rawlins killed Frank. Was he that big of a coward?

"Where is this?" Dinah demanded so you looked at Micro "If you don't tell her I will" then looked back at her "we're going with you" "no you're not" "bullshit we aren't"

She finally sighed and said "Fine but you were vests and you go unarmed" you shook your head "I'll wear a vest but I'm taking my gun" she stared at you then shrugged "NYPD knows you're licensed"

You and Micro were supposed to stay behind Dinah but like you were going to follow orders. You weren't an agent. 

You saw Billy standing over Frank and Rawlins body and reacted without thinking. "Y/N!" Dinah hollered when the shot rang out. "Shit" you realized you'd simply caught his arm but part of you felt vindicated to know you'd drawn at least a little blood from Billy.

You ran to Frank's side then glanced over at Rawlins still form and felt an intense urge to shoot him even though he was clearly dead but your attention was on Frank. "He's drowning on his own blood" you knew you couldn't handle this. You needed a surgeon. Your hands moved quickly over Frank's chest clocking every injury you could see. You moved Micro's hand into position to take some pressure off his chest but there wasn't a lot you could do on your own.

"I can't save him David" you sounded broken even to your own ears.  When Madani said they called an ambulance Micro beat you to it by saying "No. hospitals mean cops. He needs help. My friend is dying for your justice. Why don't you give him some?"

You didn't know if it was just the culmination of the last few shocks to your system but you looked up from Frank your hands slick with his blood and said "If you're gonna let him die here Dinah..you're going to want to kill me too. His death won't go unanswered. He trusted you. Prove to be worthy of that"

Micro god bless him was trying everything to get Frank to wake up "C'mon Frank I betrayed you! I bought them here. I bought Y/N here! Wake up call me an asshole. Call me a son of a bitch. Come on!"

You laid your head over on Frank's shoulder that was closest to you "Come on Frank. I've already lived with thinking I've lost you once. Don't leave me too, please don't leave me too"

He coughed and jerked then opened his eyes. You started crying harder when Micro said "That's it you beautiful scary man"

"Help me get him up" Dinah finally said after you heard her talking across the radio. You shot her a questioning look so she said "I'm helping him. Trust me please?"

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

You didn't know where she'd taken all of you until you were going through the door and she was yelling "Dad! I need your help!"

Her dad and mom ran in "Dinah who is this man?" Her dad asked while her mom said "What you bought to our door?" You weren't above begging so you looked at her dad "Please help him!"

He nodded and pointed towards a door "Get him on the bed" 

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

After Micro told Dinah's dad how Frank had gotten his injuries you told him you were a paramedic and offered to help "Get gloves on" 

You were through gloving up when Dinah's dad looked up at you "His broken rib punctured a lung. He's got a tension pneumothorax" you grabbed a needle and handed it to him while everyone around the bed watched. He held his hand out for the syringe once the needle was in so you handed it over and breathed a sigh of relief when he drew the blood out and Frank started back breathing.

"Thank you" you said and he shook his head "He needs blood" "I'm a universal donor" Micro or well guess you should start calling him David volunteered. You shot him a small smile while Dinah's dad hooked him up.

The next morning you were sitting in the windowsill when Frank woke up. The first thing out of his mouth was "Madani, did you get Russo?" She shook her head then glanced over her shoulder at you "Y/N did shoot him" "attagirl" he said weakly.

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After he'd been given the ok to leave on his feet David asked for a moment to talk to Frank so you stepped in the hall. Dinah's mom walked past so you said "Ma'am, I'd like to thank you and your husband for helping us. He's not who the media portrays him to be" she nodded "You made an impression on my daughter it seems. She trusts you, so I do"

Dinah walked up and smiled at you "Feeling better?" You raised an eyebrow "My brother by proxy was nearly killed and turns out the one man I've loved knew my sister, niece and nephew were gonna get murdered. I'm great" 

You walked back in the room with Dinah. Frank and David looked up and you knew Frank well enough to know there was something he wanted to tell you but didn't ask since you were in front of other people. 

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You walked down to the sidewalk with Frank. He didn't want to endanger you but he needed to talk to you so the two of you were taking the long way around to where the van had been left "Y/N.. I need to tell you something. I mean I heard Rawlins say something to Bill" you waited for him to say more so you finally asked "What did he say?"

"That Bill was a stupid grunt willing to do anything to make sure his little whore medic stayed alive" you stopped walking "What's that mean? How am I involved in this?" Your mind was reeling. Finally you shook your head "Nope. You must have imagined it" he stared at you for a second then said "Bill told me it wasn't supposed to be like this. Maria and the kids weren't supposed to be in the middle. He said he was trying to keep you out of it. Rawlins said it too more or less" 

"He's lying! He's trying to keep you from killing him! That's all!" You were fighting to keep your voice down. You refused to let yourself believe there was any good left in Billy. Frank finally said "Ok" so the two of you started back walking. Right before you cut off to head towards your apartment like he'd asked you to you said "make me a promise?"

He raised one eyebrow "depends" you made sure to keep your voice steady as you said "Don't let him use me to make you falter. I want you to have an after too Frank..you deserve it" you started to walk away but Frank's response of "I do think he actually loved you and you shouldn't feel guilty for loving him" made you freeze. You looked back at him and said "Even if he did love me and even though a part of me will always love him it doesn't change anything" then kissed him on the cheek "Make it out alive Frank" and walked away.

@intothesoul

@weallhaveadestiny