#i can have silly chapter titles if I want to

[theonlyqualitytrash]

No need to thank me, Berry—honestly, you should be thanking yourself! (Really, everyone should thank you for requesting more fics like this!) When I saw your post asking for more Fyodor winter fics, I just knew I had to do something about it. I couldn’t resist! :>

I’ll try not to ramble too much:

Honestly, I haven't seen many Fyodor x Reader stories set in cozy winter settings either, and I wanted to make sure this one felt original. ;-; I was a bit uncertain about the flour battle scene at first, because I know not everyone has read the manga, and they might find it a little out of character for Fyodor. But this is the same guy who threw eggs at a wall while in prison. If he can be a bit silly in those moments, why can’t he be that way here? (I can't even remember the chapter—it’s been so long)

And yes—yes, I am totally stealing that idea for next Christmas. I am already planning a mountain retreat, cozy vacation-type fic with Fyodor and the reader. You’ve made me so excited that I’m already impatient for next year! I’m like, “Wait, I have to wait 365 days for this?!” You need to stop giving me ideas. >:( (please don't stop giving me ideas)

But really, really, don't mind me while I sob over how sweet your message was. It honestly fills my heart to know that it made you feel so warm and happy. Because that's exactly what I wanted—to give you a bit of cozy, heartwarming joy. If a fluff fic doesn’t have you rolling around on your bed, screaming and crying happy tears, then I haven’t done my job properly. :> I’m so hopeful that our friendship will bloom into the next year. Here’s a huge, comforting virtual hug from me to you ^^ hug

---

Gosh, what a deeply hurtful thing for them to say about you. I really hope they realize the impact of their words and properly apologize because that kind of comment isn’t something anyone should have to endure. I’ve been in a similar position before, where people that were close to me said things that just didn’t sit right, and it can really take a toll on your spirit.

I completely understand the fear of letting someone in, especially when you’ve never had experience with dating and love. It’s terrifying to open up and risk being hurt. But I want you to know that people like us—those who crave love in a very specific way, who want something deep and true—are not naive or foolish. If anything, it makes us stronger, more aware of what we deserve. We’re not settling for less, and that’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of.

I believe in love coming to us in all sorts of forms and at different times. So, as much as it can feel daunting, don’t ever doubt that love can find you, and it will come in a way that honors your heart. You deserve a love that meets you where you are, that sees you fully and unconditionally.

I’m so glad to hear that you’re not letting their words shake you. Your spirit, your kindness, your willingness to believe in something better—those are beautiful qualities. Keep holding onto that hope and trust that the right people will see and appreciate that in you.

🤍🌻

P.S. Yes, the title does translate to Blessed Winter, and I’m so glad you caught that! ^^ Every Fyodor fic I will ever write will have a Latin title, mostly because they’re just cool, but also because I headcanon him as someone who knows Latin. Plus, it’s a little homage to his timeless nature. He’s been around so long that Latin feels fitting.

Beata hiems - Fyodor x Reader

Synopsys: Holiday special—On a chilly winter morning, you and Fyodor set out together for a festive task, finding warmth in each other's company as you navigate the day.

No warnings, just fluff

A/N: Happy holidays, everyone! The most important thing during times like these is spending quality moments with the people you love. I realized I’ve written a lot of angst lately (and not ideal situations) that I almost forgot I can write pleasant things too :> Also, I ate way too much zacusca while writing this...

Word count: 3,300

Both you and Fyodor woke early, a habit born of necessity, yet today carried a rare air of anticipation. The quiet of the morning felt different—not the product of lingering work or duty, but a purposeful calm you both had sought together. The shared goal ahead of you—choosing the perfect yolka for the season—lent an unspoken warmth to the air, even as winter’s chill lingered outside. 

The sun had barely risen, painting the sky with strokes of pink and orange as you and Fyodor prepared to set out. You wrapped your scarf hastily against the cold, eager to step outside but not prepared for the bite of the crisp winter air. The moment you crossed the threshold, the frost nipped at your cheeks, and you tugged the scarf higher, but it was no match for Fyodor’s keen eye. 

“Come here,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the soft crunch of snow underfoot. His gloved hand reached for the scarf you had wrapped hurriedly around yourself. He adjusted it, deftly tucking the fabric snugly against your neck. His touch lingered—more delicate than necessary—and his sharp violet eyes softened in the golden light of the sunrise. 

“You’re always so particular,” you said softly, your voice carrying more fondness than teasing. 

A faint smile ghosted across his lips, one only you were privileged to see. “It’s merely practical. Keeping you warm spares me the concern.” Though his tone remained calm, the undercurrent of care made your chest tighten pleasantly. 

“Practical, yes,” you said with a smile, a playful impulse to tease him flickering in your mind but quickly fading as you gently brushed your fingers against his hand. “But thank you.”

His raised eyebrow and the slight curve of his lips suggested he’d noticed your reaction, but he said nothing, instead gesturing toward the road ahead. “Let’s go. The trees won’t choose themselves.” 

--- 

The tree market was alive with the bustling energy of the season. Vendors called out their wares, offering everything from firs and pines to handmade garlands and wooden ornaments. The scent of mulled wine and roasted nuts mixed with the sharp, earthy tang of pine, creating an atmosphere that was as festive as it was chaotic. 

You walked alongside Fyodor, arm in arm, his quiet presence shielding you from the full bite of the winter cold. His long coat and composed demeanor made him seem almost impervious to the freezing air, while you found yourself fiddling with your gloves and scarf for warmth. Yet his close proximity—so steady and reassuring—seemed to cast a blanket of warmth around you. 

“Look at this one,” you said, pointing to a tall, lush pine with branches that stretched wide like welcoming arms. You tilted your head, imagining it standing proudly in the corner of your living room, adorned with sparkling lights and delicate ornaments. 

Fyodor’s gaze swept over the tree with a critical eye, his gloved hands tucked neatly behind his back as he stepped closer. “It’s sturdy enough,” he remarked, reaching out briefly to test the firmness of the trunk. “But do we truly need something so ostentatious?” 

You chuckled, the sound warm despite the chill. “It’s not ostentatious; it’s festive. And it’ll look perfect with the handmade ornaments we’re about to pick out.” 

His lips quirked into a subtle smirk, the faintest flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Handmade ornaments? Are you assembling an art gallery in our living room?” 

“No,” you replied with a laugh, nudging his arm gently. “Just something unique for our tree. Help me find the perfect one.” 

The two of you wandered through the aisles, debating over height, fullness, and symmetry. Fyodor’s meticulous approach—inspecting every detail, pointing out subtle flaws in the trees you favored—somehow complemented your more intuitive choices. Where he saw imperfections, you saw character; where he sought balance, you admired the charm. 

Eventually, his resolve softened, and he let out a soft sigh, gesturing toward the very tree you’d first pointed out. “This one, then,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of indulgence. “If only to avoid spending the entire morning debating in the snow.” 

You grinned, stepping forward to examine the tree one last time, your fingers brushing against the soft needles. “I knew you’d come around.” 

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, and though he said nothing, the faint upward tilt of his lips betrayed a rare contentment. Together, you flagged down a worker to help carry the tree, already envisioning the warmth it would bring to your home. 

--- 

The shelves at the decoration stall were a flood of color: glass baubles, painted wooden ornaments, strings of beads, and garlands in every shade imaginable. The scent of pine mingled with that of beeswax candles, adding a rustic charm to the lively atmosphere. Your fingers lingered on a set of painted ornaments shaped like matryoshka dolls, their intricate floral patterns catching the light as you turned them over. 

“These are beautiful,” you said, holding one up for Fyodor to inspect, the delicate ornament resting gently in your palm. 

He took it from your hand with care, his long fingers brushing yours as he did so. He examined the ornament thoughtfully, tilting it slightly to catch the light. “I do like them,” he admitted. “But do we plan for the tree to carry only traditional designs?” 

“Not at all,” you replied, already picturing a mix of old-world charm and contemporary elegance. “I thought we’d pair them with something simpler, like gold and white baubles, to balance it out. What do you think?” 

Fyodor’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his violet eyes reflecting a softness that contrasted with his usual guarded expression. “Elegant, yet practical. A perfect mix, really.” 

Pleased, you placed the ornaments into your basket and continued to wander through the stalls together, occasionally pausing to admire other unique finds. Your eyes lit up at a garland of shimmering beads hanging high above, just out of your reach. Before you could even try, Fyodor stepped forward, his movements fluid and precise, and plucked it effortlessly. He draped it lightly over his arm before turning to you, his expression unreadable but somehow fond. 

“Teamwork,” he commented dryly, earning a quiet laugh from you. 

As you browsed further, a bright red ornament shaped like a cheerful bear caught your attention. Without hesitation, you slipped it into the basket with a mischievous grin. When Fyodor noticed it moments later, he plucked it out and held it up between two fingers, his expression hovering between disapproval and amusement. 

“This one will disrupt your balance,” he remarked, the faintest trace of dry humor in his voice. 

“But it sparks joy,” you countered with a soft laugh, tilting your head as if daring him to disagree. 

He regarded the ornament for a moment longer before sighing, his faint smirk returning. “Unnecessary distractions,” he muttered, though he placed it back in the basket without further comment. “Still, it’s not without charm.” 

His quiet concession made your smile widen as you linked your arm with his again. “Thank you, Fyodor.” 

He glanced at you briefly, his eyes softening before he turned his attention back to the rows of decorations. “I simply indulge your whims,” he said, though the subtle warmth in his tone betrayed him. 

--- 

Back home, the tree stood proudly in the corner of the living room, its presence filling the space with the earthy scent of pine. You began unpacking the decorations while Fyodor set up the stand with the quiet precision you had come to expect from him. Even the simple act of adjusting the tree seemed graceful in his hands. 

“Before we start decorating, why don’t we drink some eggnog?” you suggested, stepping back to admire the tree’s placement. 

Fyodor glanced up, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It will keep you warm after being in the cold. I’ll prepare it.” 

In the kitchen, the two of you worked in quiet harmony. Fyodor took charge of whisking egg yolks and sugar until they turned pale and creamy, his movements deliberate and exact. Meanwhile, you heated milk and spices on the stove, the warm aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg filling the air. The rhythmic sounds of his whisking and the occasional soft crackle from the stove added to the serene atmosphere. 

Unable to resist the tranquility of the moment, you stepped behind him and wrapped your arms lightly around his waist, leaning your head against his back. His steady movements didn’t falter, but his voice softened as he acknowledged your presence. 

“Comfortable?” he asked, a hint of amusement lacing his tone. 

“Very,” you murmured, letting the warmth of the scene seep into you. You lingered there, feeling the quiet strength in his posture, before he turned slightly, nudging you gently to take the mug he had prepared. Reluctantly, you let go, accepting the drink with a soft smile. 

As he handed you the mug with a faint smirk, his violet eyes glinted with quiet satisfaction. You sipped the warm drink, savoring the rich, spiced flavor. 

“It’s truly perfect,” you said, meeting his gaze over the rim of your mug. “You have a talent for making even simple things feel special.” 

His expression softened, and he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Perhaps it’s the company that elevates the experience, my dear.” 

Your smile widened as you set your mug down and began gathering ingredients for cookies. “Ready for the next round of teamwork?” 

Fyodor raised an eyebrow as you tossed an apron in his direction. “You expect me to assist with this?” 

“Yes,” you said, tying your own apron and flashing him a playful grin. “You’re a fast learner.” 

The two of you began mixing ingredients, your approaches naturally complementing each other, creating a rhythm that felt both efficient and effortless. As you sifted flour into a bowl, another mischievous idea struck. Without warning, you flicked a pinch of flour at him, leaving a pale dusting on his sleeve. 

He paused, slowly turning his head to regard you with an expression of calm menace. “You’re playing a dangerous game, lyubov’...” 

Laughing, you grabbed another pinch. “Am I?” 

With a swift motion, Fyodor dipped his fingers into the flour and smudged a streak across your cheek. You gasped, your eyes wide with mock indignation. As you reached for a small handful in retaliation, his hand closed lightly over yours, stopping you mid-motion. His violet eyes gleamed with a quiet gaiety. 

“Dear...” He spoke slowly, as if daring you to continue. “Do you really wish to escalate this?”  his voice calm, though the faintest trace of a smirk betrayed him. 

Of course, mischief took the better of you, and in the blink of an eye, the kitchen erupted into chaos. Flour flew through the air in soft, white clouds, settling like snow on the countertops, the floor, and both of you. Laughter spilled from your lips, a sweet, carefree sound that danced in the space between you.

The aprons did little to catch the fallout, now more a futile shield than anything useful. It didn’t matter. The room was filled with the rhythm of playful war—dashes of flour as ammunition, mischievous glances exchanged between you both, and the occasional breathless chuckle escaping your lips as one of you narrowly avoided a flour bomb.  

When you finally waved the white flag, Fyodor stepped closer, his voice calm but laced with quiet authority. “Do not start a war you cannot win,” he murmured, brushing a bit of flour from your hair. Despite his stern words, the glimmer of mirth in his eyes betrayed his amusement. 

“Then let's declare a truce,” you said, smiling up at him. His gaze softened as he nodded, and together, you returned to baking with a newfound warmth between you. 

--- 

After dinner and tidying up, the two of you finally began decorating the tree. The room was bathed in the warm, flickering glow of the fire in the hearth, casting a soft, golden light over everything. The air smelled faintly of pine and the lingering scent of the meal, creating an intimate, peaceful atmosphere as you carefully unpacked the ornaments and strings of lights. 

“The gold garland should go first,” Fyodor suggested, his fingers brushing over the shimmering strands before he draped them with precision along the branches. 

“Quite the expert on this decorating business,” you teased with a smile, stepping closer to adjust a section he’d already placed, your fingers brushing his as you did.

“I simply prefer a bit of order over chaos,” he replied with his usual calm, though a hint of amusement flickered at the corner of his lips, betraying his composed demeanor.

As you both worked together, the sounds of soft laughter and the faint rustle of ornaments filled the air. You held up a small ornament shaped like a bell, turning it in your hand with a questioning look. “Where should this go?” 

Fyodor stepped closer, his presence quiet but commanding. His hand brushed yours as he gently took the bell from you, his fingers warm against your skin. “Here,” he said, his voice softer than usual, placing it with deliberate care near the center of the tree. 

You hummed in satisfaction, stepping back to admire the spot he had chosen, feeling a small, unexpected warmth at how he treated each ornament with such attention. Reaching into the box again, you pulled out a bear ornament—one you’d picked up earlier that day. The little bear was a reminder of your shared experiences, and it felt like a quiet piece of your heart woven into the holiday. 

Without a word, Fyodor took it from you with a reverence that spoke volumes. His gaze lingered on the ornament for a moment, his fingers caressing it gently before he placed it with quiet care on the tree, the gesture speaking more than any words could. 

You reached into the box again, this time pulling out a sprig of mistletoe. Holding it playfully above your head, you couldn’t resist the chance to tease him once more. “And where does this go?” 

Fyodor’s eyes flicked to the mistletoe, and then back to you. The air between you shifted subtly, the playful tension between you both thickening. “A kiss?” he murmured, his voice laced with something deeper, something unspoken. 

“It’s bad luck if we don’t,” you replied, your voice teasing yet holding a hint of sincerity, knowing he wouldn’t let something so trivial go unacknowledged. 

Fyodor’s lips curled into a rare, genuine smile. He leaned in slowly, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours as his lips brushed against yours in a kiss that was both tender and featherlight. His kiss—how can one explain it? It felt like he had nothing to lose. Like his heartbeat was yours. Like someone who has just learned a foreign language and can only speak in the present tense, with you as the subject. Only now, only you.

The moment seemed to stretch, the world outside of the two of you fading away as he pulled back just enough to murmur softly against your lips, his voice low and warm. 

“We wouldn’t want that kind of luck,” he whispered, his smile lingering as his eyes met yours, holding you in a quiet moment of shared connection. 

--- 

The tree stood proudly in the corner of the living room, its soft, twinkling lights casting a warm glow throughout the space. The fire crackled in the hearth, its flames flickering and stretching across the walls, filling the room with a comforting, intimate atmosphere. You and Fyodor were curled up on the couch, a soft blanket draped over your legs, the heat from the fire adding a quiet coziness to the evening. 

Mugs of warm eggnog rested in your hands, the rich, spiced aroma filling the air as you took a slow sip, savoring the creamy warmth. Fyodor sat beside you, his hand wrapped around his own mug, a soft, almost imperceptible smile on his lips. There was a sense of peacefulness between you, the quiet sound of the fire and your soft laughter making everything feel still and right. 

You shifted a little, the anticipation bubbling in your chest as you leaned toward him, holding out a small gift. “I got you something,” you said quietly, your voice carrying a hint of excitement despite the calm of the evening. 

Fyodor’s violet eyes glinted as he glanced at you, eyebrow raised slightly in that characteristic way of his. “For me?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and glee. 

You nodded and passed him the neatly wrapped box. He took it with that ever-so-gentle touch of his, unwrapping the gift with careful precision, his eyes flicking between the paper and your face. When the box was open, he held up the fountain pen you had chosen for him—sleek, elegant, with intricate golden details that caught the firelight just right. 

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the pen’s smooth surface. “I’ll put it to good use,” he added, his usual stoicism softening further. 

“I know you enjoy writing,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips. “I thought it might be something you’d appreciate.” 

Fyodor looked at the pen for a long moment, his eyes dark with thought, before meeting your gaze. “It is perfect,” he said, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he added, “Thank you.” 

You grinned, feeling a warm rush of happiness at his words. “I’m glad you like it.” 

He cradled your cheek, his fingers tracing the soft skin with a tenderness born of awe. Then, his expression shifting to one of quiet amusement. He reached for a box of his own, setting his mug down beside him. You watched with curiosity as he gave you your gift.

When you opened it, you froze, your heart skipping a beat at the sight. Inside was a small, simple folder containing a series of documents. You blinked in confusion, slowly reaching for them as Fyodor’s eyes held your gaze with a steady, almost amused calm. 

“It’s a bit unconventional,” Fyodor said, his voice low and steady, “but you mentioned once that you would like to escape the city.” 

You unfolded the papers slowly, eyes widening as you realized what they were—legal documents, papers that transferred ownership of an entire mountain to you. A piece of land. A whole mountain. He had given you a literal escape from the city, just as you had hinted at so long ago. 

“A mountain?” you whispered, your voice almost incredulous. 

Fyodor’s lips curved into a faint smile. “You said you wanted to get away. I thought this might be a... fitting solution. Perhaps you’ll find it more peaceful.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity and thoughtfulness of the gift almost too much to comprehend. “A whole mountain…” you echoed, still in shock. “Well, I’ll have to plan my next vacation carefully now.” 

Fyodor’s smile deepened, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “I suspect you will.” 

You leaned into him, shaking your head in disbelief but also deeply touched by the enormity of his gift. “It’s… incredible,” you said, your voice soft and full of wonder. “I never imagined you’d actually go so far.” 

“I’ve always been one for unconventional gestures,” Fyodor remarked smoothly, his tone laced with that familiar calm but with a subtle warmth. He leaned in slightly, his lips grazing your temple as he placed a gentle kiss there. 

As you sat together, the warmth of the fire and the quiet serenity of the evening enveloping you, you realized that no material gift could compare to this moment. The mountain—while impressive—was just a symbol of the depth of his consideration, of how well he knew you, how carefully he listened to the quietest of your desires. 

You pulled the blanket around you both, sipping your eggnog as you let the peaceful atmosphere settle around you. Fyodor rested his arm around you, pulling you a little closer, and for a while, you just sat in contented silence, letting the fire and the quiet of the room fill the space between you. 

It was, without question, the kind of day dreams are made out of.

[cakeinthevoid]

Masterlist!

Part 5 — This Edible Ain't Sh—Oh Boy (The Look — Metronomy)

Content: Medication side effects (pain) and injury (mentioned)

By the time Carrie had finished their breakfast, their soft rock playlist had nearly been exhausted. They rifled through their music library on their phone to queue some other genres while waiting for Willow.

Willow was a rather slow eater. They were methodical, seeming to eat the parts to any given meal in a specific order. 

So when Willow had begun gradually picking up the pace, Carrie immediately knew something was off. Their hand began to tremble. Then it wasn’t long before keeping the spoon in hand was a visible struggle. They fought admirably to keep a neutral expression, but the frustration bled through.

It wasn’t a mystery what was causing this, either. 

“If you’d like to take a break, you can. I’ll save your food in the fridge if you still want it.” 

That’s what Carrie did for those first days when Willow began taking the medication just before breakfast. Then Carrie tried a change in the schedule and Willow eagerly adapted. Since then, medicine was first thing in the morning so they could eat after the worst of the side effects faded.

Willow clenched the spoon tightly. It only made the shakes in their hand worse. They really were stubborn.

Carrie sighed quietly. “I keep telling you I have udrophoon. It will help with the side effects of—”

Willow’s spoon clattered on the table as they suddenly dropped it and pushed their chair out to leave.

“Willow…” Carrie got to their feet at the same time as them. They were always opposed to udrophoon. Again, Carrie had some ideas as to why they would be, not all very pleasant, but if it could ease their daily suffering…

Willow was heading determinedly to the stairs, escaping to their room. At least, they were; One moment they were rushing out and the next, they nearly keeled over. They barely caught themself on the console table against the wall.

“Oh Lord—” Carrie rushed to their side, but Willow pushed themself off the thin table, knocking over a potted plant, and stumbled back in the direction of the stairs.

Carrie let the plant roll off the table in favour of catching Willow by their upper arms from behind. “You’re not gonna make it up the stairs,” they said, trying to guide them to the living room. 

Willow tore out of their grasp, whipping around to face Carrie. Carrie had been doing their job for much too long to flinch at the enraged look on their face. 

Willow was breathing heavily, teeth bared, and glaring viciously at Carrie. 

“I know,” they said calmly. “I know.” They huffed a breath of air that was too dark to be a laugh. “Trust me, I know, but I’m not just going to let you collapse and risk hurting your ribs worse. They’re. Not. Healed.” Their voice was firm. “Understand?” 

Willow shook with barely contained rage and medicine tremors, hands balled into tight, shaking fists. They were beginning to hyperventilate.

Carrie brought their hands up slowly, palms out in a placating gesture. Willow’s eyes flicked down to them and back up to their face—and took a stumbling step back.

Carrie felt something inside them ache, as it did for every patient they took in, but continued their gesture. 

They brought their hands to their own ribs and traced the areas where Willow had breaks and fractures in their ribs. “Your ribs probably hurt like a flamin’—hurt a lot,” they amended. “You need to control your breathing, like this.” Carrie demonstrated steady breaths. “Not too deep. Just breathe with me. Better yet, breathe with me on the couch.” They pointed carefully in the direction of the living room.

Willow was wavering, swaying on their feet a little. Despite that, in true Willow nature, they held their glare. 

“Willow. I won’t be catchin’ you like a damsel in distress,” Carrie said, knowing full well they would. “So please let’s rest on the couch.” Then a thought stuck. It was ridiculous but it might be enough.

Carrie cocked their head. “Lay on the couch and you can choose the music?” 

Willow’s gaze sharpened. Carrie was almost certain that the only reason they still stood for another full minute just glaring angrily at them while they were moments away from falling over was for appearances sake. 

They’ve seen it before: they wanted to maintain an image. Institute patients had little control over their care, and so they took what they could get. If being difficult means they would feel a little better on the inside while receiving much needed care, then Carrie would deal with that.

Finally, finally, Willow stepped back, turning to the living room, but held Carrie in sight. They made their way unsteadily to the couch, but Carrie kept their distance instead of hovering too close. 

Willow paused before the couch for a beat before cautiously sitting down. They had schooled their face into impassiveness, but Carrie saw the way their shoulders relaxed—how they curled over slightly with relief as they sank into the cushions. 

It must be exhausting to keep up a front all the time when it was so clear they just wanted to completely relax. Carrie settled into the armchair next to the couch and wondered if they ever would feel safe enough to do so in front of them one day. 

Baby steps.

Carrie was pulling out their phone when Willow suddenly tensed again, digging their fingers into the couch and sucking in a sharp breath. They grimaced in pain, riding out what Carrie knew to be the seizing of their internal muscles. They hissed a breath through their clenched teeth, eyes burning holes into the ceiling. 

“I know, it really sucks.” Willow transfixed their fiery look on Carrie, as if to say ‘really?’ 

“Ok, it really, really sucks but maybe lay down? The music might help? Give you something else to focus on?” They held out their phone to Willow.

Willow just looked at it, hands still gripping the couch with enough force to tear through the fabric if they had claws. They cringed at another wave of pain, clearly wanting to curl into themself more, but resisting. 

Carrie lowered her arm. They weren’t helping them like this. Frankly, they were doing more harm than good for Willow at this point. Too much, too soon, they thought again.

“Here,” they placed their phone unlocked on the coffee table arm's reach from the couch. Then they got to their feet. “I have to clean the kitchen anyway. Tap the red square for music and the triangles to change songs.” 

They were already on their way to the kitchen when they added, “Just call me if you need help” and only realised the stupidity of that statement when they were picking up the fallen potted plant from earlier. 

But when they turned around, they saw Willow already laying along the length of the couch, curled into a vague s-shape, and scrolling through their phone. 

Carrie turned back around to clean the kitchen, lest Willow saw them watching them act even a little relaxed, Lord forbid. So Carrie tidied up. Just before starting to wash the dishes, they heard the faint sound of a synth riff.

Tag : @whumpkinpie :}

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

jon val jon or something

[pyrriax]

6, 12, 30 for the writing asks ^_^

6. What’s the last line you wrote?

Shaking its head in what seems like disbelief before meeting his eyes again, almost like it wants to say something before it makes a noise like a growl, "oh, you're one of those seraphs, aren't you. A star-eater. No wonder you act like you've lost your mind."

(ignore that that's a couple sentences, the Thought is important)

12. Do you outline your fics?  If yes, how detailed are your outlines?  How far do you stray from them?

Oh yes! I outline my fics thoroughly. Though, I do allowed myself to deviate as much from the outline as I feel like when things go off the rails. Some snippets of planning from a couple fics & concepts:

My outlines are very... One for one. With some exceptions. I tend to basically write a very brief version of the fic and try to get the feelings and words right before I actually write it. This is... Also why it can and will take me a month to write a oneshot. I try to get things Right.

30. How much do you edit your fics?  Do you edit as you write or wait until you finish the first draft?

So! I edit them a bit? I edit while I work, but often I don't really touch anything I've already written unless it's something longer that might be taking a few months to get through. I think the fic I've edited the most is the prologue of Artificial Stars, which was originally a quickly written 2k oneshot into about 5k of actually decent fic.

Usually I don't edit to make something shorter/more concise, since I tend to only come up with more ways to bridge concepts when I go back to it. Also to be fair... There's usually no difference between first draft and final product. I cannot be asked to edit my fics after I write them, I just release them to the birds and pray for the best. (Unless I actually decide to show it to my beta reader in full instead of just sharing snippets as I... usually do.)

Conclusion: Rarely, those thangs are being given to the world as-is unless something is horrifically wrong with them

[whom-to-kill-whom-to-let-live]

Ah lads, I might have gone off the rails in my desperation for Legato fanfics and ended up writing my own.

[honey-doc]

Why I appreciate Kabru and Mithrun's relationship in the story (with pictures!)

I just want to express how much I loved reading through the chapter with the 6 days they spent together and how I think their relationship developed in a pretty sweet way.

I feel like a lot of people reduce their dynamic to "nurse and patient" and that makes me sad because I personally got a lot more from it than that.

I do wanna start off by saying I'm here appreciating their dynamic as it is in the text.

Read more (spoilers ofc):

The beginnings

When they first met, there was an air of intimidation surrounding Mithrun as the captain of the ominous Canaries. He demonstrates his proficiency as a fighter and leader which worried Kabru because he knew it would lead to the dungeon falling into elven hands once again. But this threatening aura begins to dim in Kabru's mind as they get to know each other.

Even before they fell down the hole, the both of them ended up relying on each other's abilities a number of times (when the underground governor turned out to be corrupted Mithrun defeated him and Mithrun needed Kabru's deduction skills during the battle on the first floor) which is already the beginning of a great dynamic

(Kabwu is scared but Mithrun just asks for his help)

After Cithis tasked him with "taking care of Mithrun's needs" for the time being, Kabru treated Mithrun with proper respect and doesn't take advantage of his disability, even using his title “Captain” when he knew Mithrun wouldn’t have cared either way after learning about how he lost his desires. This is in contrast to Cithis who immediately took advantage of her position to mess around with Mithrun when she was taking care of him.

(When Cithis was put in charge of taking care of Mithrun)

The whole time Kabru is with Mithrun, he treats him like a person and more than just someone to be taken care of, as also he relies on Mithrun's fighting skills, knowledge of the dungeon, and teleportation magic.

When you reduce their dynamic to just "caretaker and patient", you're ignoring Mithrun's own capabilities and making him seem totally helpless. It actually feels rather ableist. They have a more balanced relationship with what Mithrun brings to the table than you may think. Mithrun couldn't have survived down there on his own, but it's the same for Kabru (who famously dies every time he fights)!

Kabru doesn’t show signs of trying to manipulate Mithrun either, and he's no longer intimidated by him in the slightest once he learns he’s not a threat or after his life. Though he does instinctively revert to his "sparkly" persona to get Mithrun to eat the disgusting mushroom, it doesn’t work so Kabru just has him eat it normally and never tries it again. This is the beginning of Mithrun unintentionally encouraging Kabru to be more honest with others.

(Kabru realizing he can chill out)

(Kabru being unreserved and Mithrun being silly)

bonus funny moment:

Bonding

Throughout the journey they talked to each other, shared things with each other, and ate with each other. And Kabru expresses genuine concern about whether Mithrun is comfortable (which is something he could live without and wasn't something the Canaries told him to do).

(Kabru showing he wants to make him comfortable by making food for him which is a very important part of the narrative)

(Kabru sharing intimate memories with Mithrun)

(Kabru initiating conversation without hesitation or worry. This part also is referencing how Mithrun shared very important details of his life with Kabru. Kabru also ends up trusting Mithrun with information about Laios despite knowing he could possibly tell the other Canaries about him and impede his plans..which he does lol they do end up knowing about Laios before meeting him.)

For a bonus Lycion implies Kabru was taking better care of Mithrun than they had been which is interesting to me.

Mithrun also shows that he has come to trust Kabru's decisions over the Canaries' when he says he wants to stay in the dungeon after fulfilling the caretaker requirement. They did talk to each other a lot, during that time. I wonder what Mithrun's Shapeshifter double of Kabru would look like now?

Here, Kabru goes out of his way to make sure Mithrun doesn’t overexert himself by knocking him out after the demon leaves with Marcille (again, when his time taking care of him is already over), and I think that demonstrates an extra level of concern he holds for Mithrun.

(Kabru holding back a hellbent Mithrun)

(KNOCKOUT!)

He even managed to make Mithrun mad. It's probably because he "let the demon get away" but I think it's cute and funny because would he huff like that at anyone else? Lol

When the demon breaks through the surface

Kabru begins panicking after Laios turns into the giant monster because he's wondering if he made the right decisions etc. If Mithrun didn’t care about Kabru at least a little bit, he would’ve just left him alone when he started losing it (right after Marcille did the same thing and she is technically more to blame for empowering the demon than Kabru was for not allowing Mithrun to go after it), but he went out of his way to snap him out of it.

It also means a lot to me that Mithrun even says Kabru's name, because in Japanese you can go your entire life without referring to someone by name and it wouldn't sound wrong (just rude) and it's the first time Mithrun says Kabru's name on screen (I checked).

Though it was with a slap, I think it says a lot, because if Mithrun didn’t care at all he wouldn’t have done anything and left him alone. It's not like Kabru could've done anything to stop the demon. He didn't even to tell him to do anything even though Kabru looked ready for an order.

(To be honest I don't know exactly why Mithrun starts beating him up here but you can say it's another rare demonstration of emotion Kabru was able to evoke in him lol. Maybe it's payment for Kabru stopping him the first time. That can be interpreted as paying it back and/or paying it forward I think.)

The last few chapters

And in the end when Kabru’s motivating Mithrun to continue living his life, he speaks to him like they’re friends/have no rank between them despite using the Captain title for him the whole time. Even Lycion initially gets upset that he’s acting “too familiar” with Mithrun.

It feels like Mithrun changed so much in the short time he spent together with Kabru and before the final battle, and it’s thanks to Kabru that Mithrun finally starts to be able to move past his lingering obsession with the demon and begin to really heal.

This is despite the fact that he spent so much time with Milsril and the other elves who never managed to break through to him like that.

(Before Kabru) (After Kabru)

And even after his role as Mithrun's caretaker was loong complete, he still shows concern for Mithrun and tells him to take a break when he's using up all his magic to slice the Falin meat (lmao).

He didn't need to do that! But it shows how he at least slightly considers Mithrun some kind of friend.

It all culminates with Kabru helping Mithrun regain his wil to live and Mithrun confiding in Kabru. Their relationship is important. Kabru continuing to do things for Mithrun to me is more of a sign that he just plain cares about him. Isn't it normal when a friend needs medication for you to remind them to take it? I think it's like that.

Kabru is there with Mithrun when he comes out about his feelings of uselessness AND when Senshi helps him put a spin on the 'vegetable scraps' metaphor and he find meaning in his life again. He's the first one to see him cry :')

Along with the fact that it feels like Mithrun is the first person we see Kabru doesn't feel the need to change his personality with or put on airs for since Mithrun doesn't need buttering up and he won't get offended if someone were to say something socially awkward, I think they made a pretty good team!

BUT ALSO the REAL reason I became endeared to them is cute shit like this:

GOD I love them!!!!! There are so many funny sides to Mithrun Kabru was able to bring out, and really show his charm as a character. Mithrun also brings out the best in Kabru while Kabru’s the most genuine he’s been since his debut with Mithrun. We are able to see that he’s just a kind and caring person, rather than the shady obsessed guy most fans have come to believe him to be.

The true depths of their dynamic also grew on me over time :)

TLDR

All in all it’s so nice seeing how even though Mithrun is a really deadpan person, and Kabru is a really secretive and withheld person, they clearly seem to have developed some kind of bond while they traveled together and even changed each other to an extent.

Doesn't Kabru feel more honest near the end? Maybe it's because of how much he talked to and shared with Mithrun during those 6 days so candidly...because they taaaalked a looooot like wow.

They mean so goddamn much to me. I don’t need them to be in a romantic relationship but I do want them to be together forever :'))) or like at least hang out when they have off time since they're still in the same country lol. Praying for Kui to make another side comic of them some time (crying).

Thanks for reading if you made it this far, I mostly arranged this because it makes me sad to see people reduce their dynamic to only one singular aspect.

Anyways ya...love 'em (heart hands)

[darkcircles4lyfe]

it's a story about hands (reprise)

Yeah, okay, today's the day.

I gave my blog that title for a reason, you know, and it has loomed over me for years because the hand motif is absolutely everywhere and you could go on about it forever.

Maybe that's something I'll never actually attempt to do, but this chapter, we reached a breaking point.

Before I continue, I need to give a big, big disclaimer: I do not have a physical disability, so I'm not able to speak about that from the standpoint of representation as a first-hand perspective. I have at least listened to enough disabled people to know that fictional characters who become amputees only to miraculously gain their limbs back is, um, a trope. Disabled people in general being "healed" is a conception we would really prefer to avoid here. Not to call people out, but I don't think we're giving enough space to acknowledge that.

I don’t feel comfortable making the judgement call about what should happen. I’m leaving that open. I also don't want to downplay people's emotional reactions. Honestly, I don't know if I can accurately define the line between acknowledging real pain vs. ableist pity. But I’d like to talk about the possibilities of what could happen. Other characters have definitely gotten permanent disabilities as a result of their hero work, or even just the side effects of their quirk. But, for better or worse, I don't think this case is really about representation. Not that Horikoshi won't do that justice. He might. What I'm saying is that's not his purpose for having Izuku lose his arms. It's meant to be symbolic, so we can explore what it means. The other thing I’m keeping in mind here is that Horikoshi is notorious for playing with our expectations, like, alllllll the time. I mean, just take a few chapters ago for a classic example. Eri appeared at the end, and we all assumed she was about to take some sort of action to save someone with her quirk. Then, immediately following, we were given an explanation for why that wouldn’t be happening. And now it’s clear he wanted to do that “fake out” not just as a silly cliffhanger prank, but specifically so we would know not to suspect that Eri could be the miraculous solution to Izuku’s loss of his arms. Rest assured, there is no easy way out of this.

The expectation at play in this particular instance is an old one. It’s very understated, but its subtext has burned so brightly, you’d be a fool not to notice it. It sits with anticipation like one half of a call and response. Man, I was so certain. Lots of people still are. I was really looking forward to printing the panel where it happened onto a t shirt and wearing it proudly. All the hand motifs in this story radiate thematically from a single moment, the one that started it all for Izuku.

It raises all kinds of questions about the act of saving, who needs saving, why, what does it mean, what are the dynamics of power, politics, honesty, exploitation, compassion, pity, disdain, sacrifice. Katsuki has dealt with many of these since he first rejected Izuku’s hand. While Izuku was the one who was convinced Katsuki would keep on rejecting him…

…Katsuki was the one who kept that moment in his mind all these years and eventually came to regret it.

Katsuki is the one yearning for that hand-hold, the one who has imbued it with so much more weight than it ever originally had. Izuku, in contrast, does not allow himself to dwell on what he wants. To illustrate this difference, we need to look at another piece of foreshadowing:

Ugh, do y'all remember when lots of folks were complaining about how there never seemed to be actual consequences for Izuku's destructive treatment of his own body? I don't blame them, I was concerned and confused about it too. There were several "fixes" along the way. Recovery Girl healed him, but left a physical reminder. Then he started training to fight with his legs… sometimes. Then he got support items. All of these were unsatisfying non-conclusions because they didn't present Izuku with a lasting enough impression to change in a meaningful way. They didn't address his core, his origin.

Of course, that all changed this chapter. Now it looks like our frustration was inflicted intentionally. With the current context in mind, all of these moments look more sinister, like this day was always gonna come because they kept putting bandaids on a deep emotional and psychological wound. The problem is pretty much spelled out for us here:

As Katsuki put it, he just doesn’t take himself into account, ya know? He doesn’t care what happens to him. And he lies about it, to keep others from worrying, to keep them safe. To keep them from returning the favor and putting themselves in harm’s way for his sake. His motivations are noble,

…but what about the little boy inside Izuku? Who saves him?

This is all about Izuku giving himself up to the point that he literally has no more to give. The thing is, I bet he saw this coming. He knew his limits and decided to keep going anyway, because his personal safety and wellbeing are not important. Now that way of thinking has come back to bite him because the fight isn’t over yet, and he’s already made his sacrifice. So now we know who will be more distraught over this. Not Izuku—Katsuki.

It’s not about Izuku becoming disabled, it’s about how Katsuki wanted to use the intertwining of their fingers to communicate that he would never let go. Never stop valuing him most. Never let himself make the mistake of rejecting him again. Never let Izuku be so reckless with his life. To say: “we are in this together.”…if only Katsuki believed he deserved to be able to say such things. To reach out his hand would have been the ultimate way to simply imply them and let Izuku be the one to decide. Then, to feel their hands clasped together would be more than either of them dared hope for, but so beautiful, so right. A moment they’ve waited their whole lives for.

Yeah. That’s what we were expecting. We’ve been so comfortable. Horikoshi gave us all the signs. He tempted and teased us over and over. BUT. You know he does this thing were he gives us a desirable, completely plausible and simple thing to look forward to, and then he snatches it away. And THEN he replaces it with something much better, something we were not expecting at all because it seemed too good to be true. That’s exactly what happened when Himiko snatched Izuku away, and we were robbed of the chance to see him and Katsuki fight together. In hindsight, though, I’m glad things went a different way because now there’s so much more depth and angst on display. Likewise, in the present moment, we may consider how, as one door closes, another opens.

As wonderfully meaningful as the hand-hold would have been, perhaps it is still too simple a resolution for Izuku, for his and Katsuki’s relationship. Tbh, it could have been done like 100 chapter ago. At this point, there’s so much more potential. There are a couple of ways it could go. If Izuku stays armless, Katsuki will be forced to use other methods to get his point across. He’ll have to do something else, or say what he means, or both. Yes, I’m talking about what you think I’m talking about. If I say it, I just might jinx it (lol), but I mean it. I’m being serious. Either way, if Izuku did get his arms back in the end, I’m sure that it wouldn’t be an easy fix. It would be hard-won against Izuku’s self-destructive mindset, and/or by Katsuki’s conviction. Again, I say this knowing it is not meant so much as a representation of disability, but as a representation of Izuku’s greatest character flaw taken to the extreme. I know this might sound harsh, like, hasn’t he been through enough? I get that, but… I’ve said it before and I say it again: Izuku is stubborn as hell.

I wish I had a resounding final note to end this on, but I kinda don’t. I’m not sure what’s best. Now we just have to wait and see what Horikoshi has in mind.

[goodlucktai]

raised on little light (1/3)

rise of the tmnt word count: 2k pairing: leo & oc i've had this idea rattling around since the rise farewell comic earlier this year made it canon that the turtles had another brother and a sister floating around somewhere. we know who their sister is, so this is my take on that 5th brother. i hope you enjoy meeting him <3 big thank you to @soldrawss and @mykimouser for enabling my insane behavior (and thank you again to sol for drawing the art i included in this chapter!!!) title borrowed from northern attitude by noah kahan read on ao3

x

2020

Leo regretted his last words as soon as they left his mouth.

“Hero moves are totally your style”? As if Raph doesn’t have enough issues already.

But what he meant—what he would have tried to explain if there was time—was that Raph is his hero. He’s always been Leo’s hero. And if Leo could be anything like him, even for a second, even if it was the last thing he ever did, then he could be satisfied with that. 

It’s a silly thing to be stuck thinking about, laying on a torn up chunk of earth with a monster ominously lumbering somewhere below, looking for where it threw its toy. Laying there, feeling every bruise and broken bone, and hoping that he didn’t hurt his big brother’s feelings.

They’ll be okay, Leo thinks, trying to make it be the thing that gives him courage instead of just more homesickness. They’ll miss me, maybe for a long time, but they’ll be okay.

Leo’s supposed to be fighting for his life, but it’s all he can do to keep a grip on the photo in his hand, the only thing in this entire dimension worth holding onto. It’s all he can do to keep his eyes open when every blink is longer than the last. 

It feels like enough of a rebellion. The Krang looked annoyed that he was still breathing the last time it batted him through the void like a fly, which gives Leo the idea that he should probably be dead by now. He feels a detached sort of pride at how grown-up he’s being about all this. Better late than never

Leo waits for the Krang to come for him, dripping his blood and sneering his daddy’s nickname for him hatefully as it does, and hopes he made his family proud. 

Leo hopes he’ll go wherever Gram-gram is. It would be nice to know someone when he gets there. 

Movement in his periphery snags Leo’s attention. His brain starts throwing up warning flags, signaling danger—anything moving around in here is another parasite, or a Krang hound, nothing he’ll want to be sprawled out on a silver platter for—but he can’t summon any urgency. 

He turns his head and finds himself looking up at another turtle. 

It’s the very last thing he expected to see. They both just stare at each other for a moment. 

The newcomer appears to be a few years older than Leo, based on the broadness of their shoulders, and half a head taller. Their skin is more gray than green and their plastron is so pale it’s closer to white than yellow. Their carapace, what Leo can see of it, is a deep blue-black and they’re covered, skin and shell both, in white spots. Two of the spots on their face give the impression of eyebrows lowered in a glare, but they don’t seem angry at him.

The turtle is completely unfamiliar to Leo, which is saying something. He thought he and his family had the monopoly on… this whole situation. 

Disquieted, Leo remembers that he’s supposed to be the only turtle here. That was a very significant part of the decision he’d made. 

It must be a hallucination, he decides, instantly comforted by his own reasoning. That makes sense. He just wished that if his mind was going to conjure him some dying company it could at least be someone he knows. An imaginary Mikey or Donnie or Raphie for one last hug. One last affectionate forehead bonk. An “I still love you,” if that wasn’t asking too much. 

Don’t you cry now, he scolds himself sternly when his eyes start to blur and burn. It’s not about you. 

With a resounding crash of metal against stone, the Krang finds them at last. He’s snarling something that Leo is too slow to piece together before he cuts himself off—surprising the hell out of Leonardo by acknowledging the hallucination. That’s not how that works. 

“Another pest ,” the Krang hisses. His serrated teeth glint when he draws his gummy lips back in an ugly smile. His tone is oily and unpleasant when he adds, “You’re less colorful than those other ones. I would have remembered seeing you. Where were you when your accomplices were fumbling about in my Technodrome like the stupid creatures they are?”

“We won,” Leo reminds the alien, even though it makes him cough. His lips are warm and wet now but he won’t think about why. “Blew up your ugly ship. Who looks stupid now?” 

“Shut your mouth!” the Krang roars, going from slimy to homicidal in about three seconds. Leo cringes, every ounce of animal instinct in his body urging him to hide in his shell and ride the rest of this nightmare out. 

The spotted turtle snaps, “Don’t talk to him.” 

It would have made sense if he was looking at Leo when he said it. Don’t engage, don’t bait the big monster that could kill you with as much effort as it takes you to blink, et cetera ad nauseum. If only he’d had a nickel for every time he heard that. 

But instead the turtle is looking at the Krang, and he’s radiating the kind of cold-blooded murder that you mostly only see in movies. He has one arm flung out in front of Leo like he actually means to use it to stop the Krang from getting any closer. 

“Don’t even look at him,” he goes on, sounding seconds away from baring his teeth. 

This guy is significantly unaware of the danger he’s facing, and Leo ought to warn him about what enormous clusterfuck he’d just wandered into. Leo ought to say he appreciates the reptile solidarity, but you should definitely run, new guy. 

But this probably isn’t actually happening outside of his own head. And besides, Leo has to focus really hard on his numb fingers so he doesn’t drop his photo. 

“I’ll look where I please,” the Krang says, as unbothered by the hallucination as he was by Leo’s entire family. “Starting with that fool head of yours. I’m interested in whatever backdoor led you here. If it’s my way out, well —”

Adrenaline surges through Leo, and he’s hardly aware of moving before he’s lurching up and shouting out, “No!” 

He can’t get out, he can’t. Leonardo won’t be able to trick him again. He won’t be there to help this time. 

“I do have one thing for you,” the spotted turtle interrupts to say, reaching over his shoulder for what turns out to be a compound crossbow strapped to his back. 

Leo doesn’t know a lot about archery so it’s weird his fictional turtle does, crank-cocking the weapon like it’s an extension of his arm. He watches cluelessly as the turtle slides something very purple out of his jacket pocket and notches it into the groove where the bolts are supposed to go. It’s definitely not a bolt, but it’s a piercing-type projectile of some kind, and it fits in the crossbow like it was designed with crossbows in mind. 

The turtle aims the bow at the Krang, who clicks the claws of his metal suit on the ground the way Splinter would drum his fingers on the kitchen counter when he was waiting on the microwave. The Krang looks condescending and mildly curious, like he’s watching dumb little animals do something they’re not trained to do. 

“He told me to tell you he’s sorry he couldn’t be here to see this part,” the spotted turtle says, and then shoots without a second of hesitation or unnecessary dramatics. 

The Krang bats the projectile away, or tries to, but it explodes on contact with his armor, and suddenly all Leo can smell is burning metal. Then burning meat. 

The Krang begins to scream, clawing at something defiantly purple with a mind of its own that eats straight through him the effortless, immediate way corrosive acid chews through soft tissue. It moves like nanotech, covering as much of the Krang as possible in a manner of seconds and clearly designed to consume whatever it touches like a school of cartoon piranhas. 

Donnie would love it, color scheme and all. 

The Krang stumbles drunkenly, howling like a creature possessed, and Leo and his turtle companion both watch silently until he tips over the edge of the hunk of torn earth they’re on. Gravity is nonexistent in this dimension, so he doesn’t so much fall as sort of drift in another direction while he’s distracted with the purple stuff that’s doing its best to eat him alive. 

The last handful of minutes have been so bizarre that it’s actually going pretty far in convincing Leo that none of it happened for real. The Krang hasn’t actually found him yet. This is clearly a dream. Or a pre-death electrical storm as the neurons in his brain fire up to fizzle out.  

He tips his head to the side again to stare up at the archer, who is putting his bow away with perfect confidence that whatever that purple thing was, it will do the job. 

“Who are you?” Leo asks stupidly. 

“Gio,” the probably imaginary turtle replies.

Leo’s mouth runs off before he can stop it. “Just Gio? Like Cher?”

God, he thinks. That was stupid, Leo. Not the time or place, Leo. You’re in the prison dimension. You’re dying here and you can’t even cut the jokes now? Raph was so right about you.

But the imaginary turtle surprises him by smiling slightly, the corners of his mouth pulling just barely upwards in a way that somehow completely transforms him. Not the time or place for jokes or smiling at them but here they are. Like company.

“Giorgio Hamato,” ‘Gio’ says. That lands in Leo’s ears as something remarkably worth making a lot of noise over, but he can’t begin to unpack it. And after a second, he forgets what the remarkable part was. His mind is a deck of cards that got shuffled too enthusiastically and ended up scattered all over the floor. Gio doesn’t seem to mind when Leo just blinks at him, adding, “I’m here to take you home.”  

“Pretty sure Uber doesn’t come out this far,” Leo mumbles, the words a paint smear, all thick and wet and muddy. One of his teeth feels broken and it’s keeping him awake, a blistering ache that cracks through the back of his mouth like lightning. “And I’ve got, like, zero bars.”

This is how I cope, he thinks, watching the bigger turtle absorb the second bad joke in as many minutes. Leo’s blinking fast so he doesn’t cry. He’s trying to focus on anything but the pain radiating through his whole body, and the swallowing darkness all around him, and the ruins of ancient metal ships looming where they float unrestricted by gravity, and the ballistic howls of a pissed-off pink alien still dealing with whatever the heck this Gio guy did to him.

He can’t focus on any of that because all of that is scary and he’s already terrified. He needs to not be terrified because he doesn’t want to be that kind of ghost when he haunts his family. He wants to be the friendly, funny kind, the kind that gets to stay at the end of the movie, the kind that will make silly faces at Mikey so he doesn’t get scared, and leave sticky notes for Donnie to remember to charge his phone and drink enough water, and cover Raphie with an extra blanket while he’s asleep because it gets cold at night but he always leaves his bedroom door open for them.

If Leo’s friendly and funny, if he helps, he’ll get to stay. He didn’t get to stay the first time, so this time he has to make it stick.

Larger hands wrap around his. It doesn’t register for a second, and then it does in a big way.

Leo jerks his head up. Moving just that much hurts like his ribs are broken all the way down and the bones in his leg have all melted into liquid agony, but it clears some of the fog away.

Someone is holding his hands in the prison dimension.

An alien like the Krang wouldn’t know the first thing about the human gesture, the togetherness of it, so it’s not some mean trick that’s being played. And it can’t be an imaginary turtle that Leo dreamed up, after all, because kindness would be the last thing he’d give himself.

Possibly very real Gio says, “Fuck Uber. Whatever that is. And don’t repeat that word.”

The punchy breath Leo chokes in is going to punch out again as a laugh or a sob. Leo squeezes the bigger turtle’s hands, photo crinkling between them, suddenly tethered to something in this void and hysterically certain that he’ll die for real if Gio lets go.

“I’m sixteen.” Leo’s voice wobbles. He doesn’t know what to react to first. He doesn’t understand how this is happening. He holds on. “I can say the fuck word if I want to, I’m practically an adult.”

Gio’s face does something it hurts to look at. His eyes are dark and sincere, the shape of them entirely familiar. There’s a warmth inside him that permeates the gloom. A star belonging to a much larger galaxy, but more significantly, belonging to the same crooked constellation Leo belongs to.

I know you, he thinks, surprised by the truth of it. I do. Where have you been?

“We’re going home,” Gio says, the certainty in his voice like one of those huge stones a river parts around, unmoved by the currents and crashing water. “I know the way out. Don’t worry about it. Close your eyes.”   

The worst thing that could happen has already happened, Leo thinks. There’s no reason not to trust him. There’s nothing left to lose. He closes his eyes.

He feels himself drawn in, tucked against the built-in armor of a turtle chest, head resting on a broad shoulder. He’s been carried like this a million times before. He didn’t think it would happen again. Somewhere along the line, he’d been picked up for the last time and put down for the last time, and now he’s here, where no one who loves him can reach him, to scoop him up when he falls asleep on the sofa and take him to bed.

But Gio lifts him up like he’s still a kid. The Krang is bellowing hateful promises in between the grating shrieks of pain, promises of what he’ll do when he gets his hands on Leo, but all of that is far away. 

Leo isn’t afraid anymore. He isn’t going to be a ghost.

He’s pretty sure he’s going home.   

[unholyhelbig]

new oversight will be everything! i can’t wait!

Title: Work Life Balance [an Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: When reader gets hurt during a job, she starts to worry about how her girlfriend, the infamous mafia boss that controls the city, will react

[a/n: while this isn't a new chapter of Oversight (I am working on that), it is set in the same universe as the Oversight. It's based off of a Private Practice episode, and something a little lighter & silly. Enjoy!]

Warnings: Gun violence, blood, spit, threats, blood, hurt/comfort, No spell checks

Check out the full Oversight universe

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The metal bat had slammed against the side of your face with enough force to blind you momentarily in the right eye. It knocked the sense out of you too and your bearings were scrambled until that darkness started to ebb away into a blurry image of the alleyway.

There was a pungent scent in the air, rotted food in dark green trash bags that had been torn by tiny teeth, or elongated claws. Crumpled napkins and discarded soda cups littered the damp ground.

Before the man could swing the bat for a second time, you caught it half an inch from your face and shoved it away. He was disarmed and you were able to shove his back up against the wall, holding him there despite his squirming. His lip was split, the blood drying quickly from the bright red to a deep black.

“Come on, man.” You twisted your hand into the fabric of his shirt, bunching your fingers around his collar. “We fronted the product, so you have to front the cash.”

“Fuck off,”

He spit on you, a gummy mix of tobacco and sugar. There were a lot of things you could handle; the ringing in your ear, and the pain in your knuckles from the first four blows you threw. But spit was where you drew the line. It had bugged you since you were in fifth grade and Amy Sheldon dangled a long string of it inches from your nose before slurping it back up through the slit in her buck teeth.

“Alright,” you breathed out, making sure you kicked the fallen bat out of his reach. “You agree to push product on that little street racer of yours in exchange for twenty five percent of the cut. You get sloppy and sample the product and don’t have the cash to give to my boss?”

You lifted him from the brick and shoved him back down onto it with enough force to push the putrid breath from his lungs. “That doesn’t feel very fair, now, does it?”

He smiled at you with a laugh that rivaled a cackle. His teeth were orange with diluted blood. There was no getting through to him. Your free hand dipped into the side of your jacket. Over the last two years, you’d grown well accustomed to the feeling of a gun in your hand.

You pushed the tip of the gun under his chin into the soft spot of his skin. He stopped laughing, the sound getting stuck in his throat with a choking sound.

“Do you know what they call me?” You gritted.

“A raging bitch?”

You made a buzzing noise in the back of your throat, much like the signaling of a wrong answer on a game show. There was a soft click as you pulled the trigger of the gun. The man in your grasp tensed and hissed.

“Wrong. You know, at first, I just forgot to load my gun. Got me into some pretty hot water, scalding actually. But eventually it became a bit of a calling card. Roulette. I can pull the trigger as many times as I want, but only one will hit it’s mark.”

He swallowed hard, you felt it in the side of your hand. He was sweating and you were growing tired of the empty threats. Yelena wouldn’t approve of something like this, and you were sure Natasha wouldn’t have had a second thought about putting a mark between his eyebrows.

“Most men aren’t lucky more than twice,” You pulled the trigger again, met with another soft click. Of course, there were no bullets in the chamber; they rattled in your front pocket like your keys. “Three times at most.”

His voice cracked. “Please,”

There was a sharp scent in the air that rivaled that of trash. You were losing blood fast. It had streaked down the side of your face from a gash on your temple and crusted the collar of your shirt.

“You have a week to make up the difference. A week and I’ll be back with a gun that has more than one bullet in the chamber. Am I clear?”

“Yes, but-“

“Am I clear?”

He nodded aggressively and you sheathed your weapon, releasing him. His legs gave out and he sunk to the damp pavement. You picked up the weighted metal back, entirely content to take it with you. It would make your next encounter a hell of a lot easier.

It was impossible to sneak into the house without giving yourself away. Even if you were to park down the block, unlace your shoes and pad into the foyer barefoot, and leave the front door open a crack, you were at risk of creating a scene.

That didn’t mean that you couldn’t keep the injured side of your face away from Natasha for as long as possible. She would know that something was up, and despite her throwing you into this life in the first place, her heart broke when you were on the deep side of any injury.

You set the metal bat down with a bucket of black umbrellas and a bench that was mostly unused. There was a dull metal thump that aggravated the headache that was coming on. You attempted to sneak up the stairs, but the second your fingertips hit the mahogany handrail you were stopped by an irritated voice with a Russian lilt to it.

Yelena was sprawled out on the sofa, a book was face down on her chest, lifting and falling with each breath. She’d given up on it in favor of the warmth that Kate provided her. Kate’s head was on Yelena’s shoulder, her arms wrapped around her midsection. Yelena looked perfectly comfortable in between Kate’s legs, both of them were about ready to doze off and if you had waited an extra five minutes, maybe you would have gotten away with sneaking in.

“Did you get hit by a bus?” Kate asked.

You leaned against the entryway of the sitting room. “Ricky got a good hit in with a metal bat.”

“Oo, Natasha is going to be mad at you.” Yelena chuckled, taunting you like a child. You would have thrown a pillow at her if Kate wasn’t in the line of fire.

She was going to be mad at you for not using the buddy system that was proposed and certainly for not dodging the hit that was coming your way. Natasha hated when you got hurt and that sad look in her eyes was worse than whatever pain could be inflicted on you.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“It looks pretty bad.” Kate said.

You shot them both the middle finger before turning away and padding up the stairs towards your shared bedroom with Natasha. Most days, she was holed up in her office and you didn’t bother her until the ache for her touch, for her presence, bothered you both enough to cave.

That was most days.

Some days, Natasha could be found in your room in sweatpants with a laptop propped up on her crossed legs. She was dwarfed in the silk bedspread, her hair in a messy bun and a pair of glasses on the bridge of her nose.

This was quite possibly your favorite look on Natasha, this quiet version of her. She’d let you hold her in this state instead of the other way around. You hated to break the mood, hated that she glanced up from her laptop not once, but twice.

Wordlessly, Natasha set her work aside and walked over to you. She cupped your face, her fingers cold against your cheeks. Her voice was soft and when she was angry enough, there was the slightest bit of a Russian inflection to her words. “What happened?”

“I… didn’t use the buddy system.”

“Mm, you didn’t use the buddy system.”

Her thumb moved against the black and blue wound against your eye. She pressed every so slightly, testing its durability. You winced, drawing in a breath through clenched teeth. It wasn’t bad, really, her touch soothed you just as quickly as it had bitten you with pain.

Natasha was good at taking care of you and she pulled you into the large master bathroom that the two of you shared. There was an abundance of white and beige. It was always a few degrees cooler than the rest of the house and offered a form of comfort as such.

There were nights where the two of you would simply brush your teeth shoulder to shoulder, and there were nights where she had her arms wrapped around you amongst the deep scent of lavender. Bubble hit her touch as her fingers roamed over the most intimate parts of you.

Now, she guided you to the edge of the sink and lifted you up in a fluid motion. She stood between your legs, making you feel even more like a child when Yelena had scolded you downstairs. Still, there was a degree of affection in her movements. Natasha frowned as she pulled a med kit from the bottom of the sink.

She tutted “Zaychik, this looks bad.”

“Image wise or the actual wound because-“You let out a small noise when she placed the frigid and stinging antiseptic against your face. It sent electric down your spine. “I didn’t know he had a bat.”

“A bat?”

“Right out of left field.”

Natasha’s frown deepened. This was supposed to be an easy job, and by all means, it was. You had accomplished your assignment of scaring up. You were sure he had released his bladder as he slid down the wall into a fetal position. Getting the money from a frightened man was going to be no problem.

Tonight was intended to be calm. You’d come home and shower and eat pizza and spend the entire night curled up in Natasha’s arms while she typed away on the computer. You’d listen to her breathing, her heartbeat.

Instead, she was roughly patching you up, buzzing with anger under her stare. “Why didn’t you take Clint?”

“Nat, I have a fantastic idea.”

“If it involves gutting that man alive and hanging him from a flagpole, then I am all in, darling.” Her words were light, distracted, as she wiped away a good portion of dried blood.

“What if we left things at the office, metaphorically speaking. What if we didn’t bring stuff like this home? Shut it all off.”  

She pulled back far enough to stifle her floral scent. There was an adorable crease between her eyes. “My mind doesn’t work like that, Malysh. This home is my office and vice versa. Someone hurt you and that is my business. That is my work.”

“I know,” you said, tucking a strand of fallen hair behind her ear. She glowered under her thick-framed glasses. You wanted nothing more than to kiss the frown off her face. “I know, but sometimes I just want to be with you.”

“Huh,”

“Huh?”

“Huh.”

This wasn’t exactly a constructive conversation. You figured as much when she ripped a bandage out of its waxy packaging and slapped it onto the gash against your temple. You let out a disgruntled noise and she grasped your waist and maneuvered you back to the floor. Your legs had fallen asleep and you were a little unsteady.

Natasha flicked on the sink and started scrubbing her hands of your blood. “No sex,”

“What?” You blinked at her, scratching fruitlessly at the adhesive on the bandage. It was incredibly itchy.

Natasha dried her hands on the nearby towel, “You heard me, no sex.”

“You… You’re withholding sexual pleasure because of something that happened at work?”

“Not something that happened at work, your refusal to talk about it.”

“Natasha,” You nearly whined.

“No sex!” She huffed, pointing towards the exit of the room “Go sleep on the couch.”

You dropped your shoulders in defeat. You had been banned to the couch? Your girlfriend didn’t’ withhold most things and the two of you had a very healthy and active life. There wasn’t true anger behind her words, instead she was testing you. Watching you until you give in.

“Fine,” You huffed, crossing your arms “The couch sounds lovely.”

“Good,”

“Great.”

“Fine.”

You grabbed the fuzzy blanket at the base of the bed and started to stalk towards the door. You could feel Natasha staring at you, waiting for you to turn around and apologize but it wouldn’t happen. Not this time. You were setting boundaries and if that included…no sex… then that was fine. It was fine.

“Zaychik?”

You turned back to Natasha, one eyebrow lifted, “Yes?”

“Leave the blanket.”

She gave you a sugary sweet smile before settling back into her previous position, pulling her computer into her lap. Your jaw was agape, but you tossed the blanket at her nonetheless and stormed out of the room.

The nerve, the absolute nerve!

Natasha wasn’t particularly hard to have a conversation with, but work was nearly untouchable with her. You knew that. She knew that. You did as you were told and protected her and her assets at all costs.

When you got back downstairs you fixed yourself a sloppy peanut butter and jelly sandwich before sulking back into the living room and flopping down onto the recliner in the corner. Yelena had since fallen asleep, and Kate was reading the book while her eyes grew heavy.

“You got kicked out, huh?”

“Kicked out, banned from sex.” You waved the sandwich around in the air “doghouse.”

Kate scoffed “the Romanoff sisters aren’t always the most forthcoming, are they?”

She was looking lovingly at Yelena, stroking her hair as the smaller woman curled deeper into her, fingers clenching at Kate’s flannel and then releasing as she settled back into a comfortable sleep.

“They make it hard to love them, but the moments where the mask slips and they’re vulnerable. Moments like these make everything worth it. And despite everything, you know they care. They’ll always care.”

“Sometimes too much,” you took a large bite of your sandwich.

“No such thing.”

Yelena stirred in her arms, nose pressed against Kate’s pulse point. She clenched her eyes tighter, her next words mumbled “Kate Bishop, if you don’t stop talking you will be sleeping on the couch with y/n.”

“Doghouse,” You said with a long sigh.

“Mm,” Kate hummed, letting out a quiet whisper “Doghouse,”

[Taglist🕷♡: @dumbasslesbi, @lostremind, @toouncreativeforausername @autorasexy @eringranola @mikookaaaaaao @marvelwoman-simp @pacmanmiles @mostlymarvelsstuff, @mrsrushman, @milfsandtittyenthusiast, @random-raccoon4, @ravenromanova, @mysticalmoonlight7, @ahintofchaos@cowboyboots236 @lissaaaa145, @natsxwife]

[notbecauseofvictories]

I've now received four (four!!!) different copies of my fic, bound and illustrated by different artists---and there's still a deep, almost reverential feeling I get when I hold them in my hands, lay them out. Ironically for the subject matter, they feel decidedly holy. After all, where else am I going to get proof that I did this---even if "tell a story about music and the devil" is one of the sillier things you can do to occupy your time.

But to be less vague, this is the kind gift of @fleabitebooks / @kettle-bird! They reached out to me a few months ago, saying they wanted to bind my Devil Went Down to Georgia fic, and would I like a copy too? As I would never say no to a gift like that, I gleefully accepted.

If you've been following me long enough, you've seen their art in my Cornstalk Fiddle tag, and I am pleased to say that the images lose none of their power. I think the choice to stick to a limited color palette works beautifully here---the golden-yellow of the title pages and the larger art almost seeps through the paper. With the crisp lineart and shading, it ends up being both lovely and vaguely ominous, a sign of the eldritch things moving around/beneath the story.

(Also, I realize this is not a major aspect, but....I love how truly awkward-looking the Devil is. He looks like a Southern Gentleman, and I love that touch of weakness in his jaw.)

I also deeply adore some of the design choices---chapter 3 starting with the cornstalk fiddle and the triumphant starburst of golden-yellow? The white snakeskin-threaded-with-gold pattern used to bind the book? The way the paragraph breaks and endsheets are music? Amazing. Just amazing.

Maybe I should revise what I said above. Yes, having your silly fic about a country song turned into a physical book is proof that you did it, finished it---but it's also proof that someone else did too. In this case, @kettle-bird sat down with my fic and carefully copied it, played with fonts (oh, those are fantastic too by the way!) and spacings and margins; they drew art, colored it; laced the book together, made and bound the cover, then shipped it off to me.

Which means....if I did this, then I was hardly the only one.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Just Your Time - No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: Silly, silly fluff. Title from ordinary things by Ariana Grande.

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary/Warnings: You give Ben internet lessons. Takes place in Chapter 14, Usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, fluff

“There are three major platforms. Instagram, TikTok, and facebook. We’re going to go one by one.” You glance up at Ben, who’s scowling down at his phone like it’s just made a very personal insult about his mother. “Why are you making your grump face.”

His glare turns to you. “I don’t make a fucking grump face.”

“You do. You get all pouty, and the lines here,” you reach up, tapping a finger between his brows. “Get deeper.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Tell me why you’re being a baby.”

“I am not being a goddamn baby-“

“Benjamin.”

“This is fucking stupid.” He snaps, glower returning to the phone. “I don’t need to know about Instagran or tiktak-“

“Tiktok,” you grin at him. “And Instagran was a big Freudian slip, Pretty Boy. It’s Instagram.”

“I don’t fucking care what they’re called, this is fucking pointless shit for shallow pussies-“

“Oh, fuck off, I’ve seen you flexing in the bathroom mirrors, Ben.”

“That’s different. You fucking love it, and it’s to make I haven’t lost any fucking muscle-“

“You are biologically incapable of losing muscle. And this is shallow,” you shrug. “But it’s fun. And you promised you’d do it.” 

He scowls. “Fine.”

“Can I get a little more enthusiasm-“

“No. Start talking.”

You wrinkle your nose at him, scooting closer to reach over his arm, pointing to the apps as you speak. “Instagram. TikTok, Facebook. There’s also YouTube, but that will have to be a whole other thing, and Snapchat, but you’d hate that-“

“Why.”

“Have you ever wanted to have all your messages instantly deleted and look like a puppy dog in the camera?”

“No, that sounds dumb as fucking balls.”

“Then no Snapchat. That’s Twitter, but-“

“Says X on it.” Ben drawls your name, giving you a smug look, and you sigh.

“Well, that’s why we’re not talking about it. If I tell you about Elon Musk and Tesla, you’ll have an aneurysm and that would just be huge bummer for me.”

“Aw, Sunshine,” he leans down, bumping your nose with his. “Would you fucking miss me? Get all damn sad if I died?”

It’s very difficult to hold your ground. Ben’s hand has moved to your thigh, and his mouth keeps brushing yours, and you feel his hunger running from his body into yours. But you manage to raise a hand and push his face backwards with a scoff, sticking your tongue and ignoring how to hunger flashes in his chest. 

“You know I would, don’t be a cunt.”

“Brat.”

“Uh huh,” you tap the phone, still in his hand, and don’t allow yourself to meet his eyes. If you meet Ben’s eyes you’ll start climbing on top of him, and you’ll lose. “Pay attention.”

Ben scoffs, but falls silent, waiting for you to continue. 

“No Twitter. Just these three.” You risk a glance up at him. He’s still distractingly handsome—the world didn’t like you enough to change that—but glowering at the phone, and you nudge his shoulder with yours. “Tell me their names.”

“Instagram,” he grunts, raising a finger to point at them one by one. “TikTok, and…” His eyes narrow, and he pauses for long enough that you’re not sure he’s going to figure out that the names are right there on the display. 

“Ben-“

“Facebook.” He looks up at you with a smirk. “Fucking nailed it.”

“Yeah, you’re a genius.” You mutter, but still smile at him. Something warm grows in your gut, and you have to stop meeting his eyes again. “Facebook is probably the least important one, but you would like it-“

“Why would I-“

“Because it’s for old people.” You grin at him, and Ben rolls his eyes. 

“Shut the fuck up.”

“No. I think we’ll do Instagram today, because TikTok will break your brain and I’m not ready to explain the Minions to you yet.”

“What the fuck is a minion-“

“Nope. Not today.” You lean over him, opening Instagram. “And remember, the less of a little bitch you are about this, the faster we finish and the sooner we can do something else.”

“We could just do something else right fucking now, no one’s damn making us do this-“

You give him a flat look. “I am, Benjamin. Eyes on the phone.”

He gives you one last glare, and turns back to the phone. “What the fuck am I looking at.”

“Instagram,” you sigh, hanging over Ben’s arm to frown at the screen. “Essentially, it’s a photo sharing app. People post about their lives, pets, memes-“

“What the fuck is a meme.”

“It’s like a funny photo or Internet joke. We’ll have to talk about it later as well. There’s a lot of business accounts, celebrity accounts, celebrity fan accounts-“

“What-“

“It’s an account that posts a bunch of photos and news and videos about one specific celebrity.” You tilt your head at the phone. “There are probably some for you, actually.”

“For me?” Ben blinks at you. “The fuck are they doing on them?”

“Posting photos of you.”

“How did they get fucking photos of me-“

“The internet, Ben.” You grin at him. “Believe it or not, there are photos of you on the internet.”

He pauses, frowning between you and the screen. “Are they good photos?”

Every photo of him is a good photo. Ben has a stupid, amazing face that looks like it was carved by Michelangelo, and every photo of him is a good photo. He doesn’t get to know that.

“They’re fine.”

“Just fucking fine?! The hell did all the good ones go-“

“Jesus, Benjamin, they’re good.” You give him a flat look. “Who’s shallow now?”

“You’d be worried about how you look if your face had to be fucking everywhere,” he snaps your name, but it’s fake anger. You can feel his amusement, and any annoyance is coated in a layer of complete comfort that makes you a little dizzy. “My job was my damn face. I’m not a vain pussy, I’m a business man-”

You snort. “You are not a fucking business man, Pretty Boy.”

“Fuck you, Sunshine, I made millions-“

“I’m sure you did,” you pat his arm, and Ben glares at you. “Are you going to keep being a huge baby, or can I keep talking?”

“Whatever.”

“That’s the spirit.” You take the phone from his hand, and start to swipe through the app, talking Ben through the what turned out to be the many nuances of Instagram. You’d—incorrectly—thought this would take twenty minutes, but Ben wouldn’t stop asking questions. You made the mistake of showing him a Soldier Boy fanpage, and that alone took ten minutes to explain and move on from. By the time you hit livestreams, Ben looked like he might start throwing something—what the fuck is the point of this shit, I don’t care about what these pussies have to say about fucking nothing—so you called it. He knew how the explore page worked, not to answer strange DMs, and if someone promised him hot MILFs in his area that it was probably a lie.

“I’m not an idiot,” he grumbles your name, closing the app. “And I don’t even know what a fucking MILF is-“

“Mother I’d Like to Fuck.” You grin at him. “But you might be more into GILFs.”

He frowns. “The fuck’s a GILF.”

“If MILF is an acronym, I think you can figure out GILF yourself.”

It takes a second of Ben glaring at you—the gears of his brain slowly turning to find the answer—and you can see the moment he gets it, because he rolls his eyes and a flash of indigence runs through him. “Brat.”

“I don’t know what you could possibly be referring to-“

Your words die in your throat as Ben tosses his phone somewhere across the room and hauls you onto his lap, burying his face in your neck and grumbling against your skin.

“You’re fucking stuck with me, beautiful, no damn GILF on the internet is taking me away.”

You hum. “What if they’re horny, and in your area?”

“Only old lady in my area is Mallory, and I’d rather cut off my goddamn dick than fuck her.”

“That’s not very nice, Benjamin-“ Your word turn into a long, breathless sound as he starts to leave open, wet kisses along your shoulder, and he’s so hungry, and it’s all fucking on purpose. YYour heart is racing as his hands tangle in your hair, and words start to feel a little far away, and you can feel how smug he is about it. “Cunt-“

“We’re done with the internet shit today.”

Not a question, but his muscles flex around you as he pulls you closer, so you don’t argue. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Ben flips you over in one, smooth movement, moving up to your mouth and smirking as you moan. “Next time, we’re doing this shit first. I don’t give a fuck about the internet,” he lets out a low groan as you tug at his hair. “But I can get the fuck on board if this is how we start.”

You answer a little too fast to be dignified, but he’s dropped back down to your neck, and you feel a little high. “Deal.”

“Deal.” Ben looks up at you, grinning as you start to try and tug him back to your mouth. “Let’s get started on it right fucking now.”

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[kittyoncescribbled]

Check-Mate, part 3.

Summary: Mihawk thought he was too old to believe in silly things like love at first sight, but things change;

Word count: 2,712;

Rating/Content Warnings: PG-16, AFAB reader;

Author’s note: ... What can I say, goth man makes my brain go brrrrrr lol Also, Shanks is making an appearance on the next chapter! Please reblog/like if you enjoy this!

Previous chapter || Next chapter

The goodbyes were, surprisingly, tearless.

You kept your composure, delivering handwritten notes to each of the crew members, taking your time to hug each of them, even if Sanji lingered a bit too much in his hug and smooching both Chopper and Luffy on their cheeks. You stood in the land, waving them off, and you stood there until you couldn't see the Thousand Sunny. Mihawk, who didn't come to the pier, could see your silhouette from one of the windows in the mansion; he could tell you were hurting, but he didn't want to step on any toes - and he didn't know what he was supposed to do if you started crying as you did in the library.

As much as he knew you were safe, Mihaw was restless until the sun started setting and you returned inside. He looked for you, but you remained inside your room with the door closed; he could hear you rummaging through things, probably settling in. He hesitated for a moment but knocked on the door.

You opened it with a curious look on your face, and MIhawk could see a small mess of clothes, shoes, and personal items behind you. His eyes lingered on it for a bit before coming back to your face, and he admired the way you never seemed to flinch from him as most people did; due to his title and his fame, most people tended to be scared or tried sucking up to him, but with you, he only saw shyness and lack of knowing where you stood. Mihawk had considered that you were in quite an uncomfortable place: a young woman, a runaway, who was now living with an older man who you didn't know. He could feel that you were scared but not scared of him: you were scared of the situation.

“Miss Y/N, now that the straw hats are gone, you might feel a bit… uncomfortable by yourself. Please know you're free to roam the whole place, apart from my quarters.” You nodded in agreement, looking like a puppy seeking approval. “Whenever you are hungry, you can help yourself to anything in the fridge, just clean up after yourself. The library is also free for you to use; just don't leave it messy.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But apart from that, you are free to do as you please. I would avoid the pier to ensure no one sees you, but the garden and orchard in the back of the house should be fine.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you don't need to call me sir.”

“Yes, s-” you cut yourself off, your face acquiring a pinkish tinge; damn, maybe you should keep calling him that. “Yes.”

“I will go to the kitchen and cook dinner in about fifteen minutes. Would you care to join?” Your face lit up, and your lips, even though he could still see the mark from the attack you had suffered, stretched into a smile. “Sure! I'll meet you downstairs. Let me just change my clothes first.” Mihawk nodded and turned his back silently, leaving you be.

When you made your way downstairs, Mihawk was already chopping tomatoes in one of the counters. After Sanji’s words before leaving, you took the time to really look at the pirate for the first time.

In more plain clothes than you had seen him before, Mihawk was as handsome as ever. You could see the muscles working under the milky skin as if the effort being done were nothing, his piercing yellow eyes focusing on the task at hand as a small crease that you wanted to smooth out with your thumb formed between them. His raven locks, away from his face, shone under the kitchen lights and you could hear him humming a tune.

It felt awkward to see such a dangerous man in a domestic environment, almost like you had walked into something you shouldn’t have seen. Slowly, you approached him and, resting your hip against the counter, asked, “So… how can I help?”

Mihawk had been aware of your presence since you turned around the corner but didn't acknowledge you at first, seeing what you would do. He saw you looking at him, unashamed as you thought he didn't know he was being observed, and allowed you to study him.

He would pay a good amount of berries to know your opinions.

“First, you could go down to the wine cellar and bring us a bottle of wine. After that, you can start cooking the pasta.” Obediently, you nodded and walked away to do as you were told, and Mihawk looked up from the chopping board in time to admire your figure in a simple white skirt and a lilac sweater with a high collar; your legs had minor bruises that were starting to fade away, but that was not enough to diminish the elegance of your shape. Your hair pulled up in a ponytail showed the form of the back of your neck hidden by your clothes. He guessed you would keep on wearing those until the marks around your neck had disappeared.

Seeing you making your way back to the kitchen, Mihawk pointed to where you could find wine glasses, and you poured for both of you. When taking his glass from you, Mihawk let his hand linger for a moment, brushing his fingers against yours and he was rewarded with the vision of blood rushing to your cheeks and you trying to hide it by immediately turning away to start cooking.

Mihawk liked that you both were able to fall into a comfortable silence; he would never admit it out loud, but he enjoyed having Perona and Zoro around — he just disliked how noisy both of them were, Perona in particular. The two of you moved in synchrony, as if you were used to each others or years now.

Leaving you to do the final touches on the meal, Mihawk left to set the table. Ever since Zoro and Perona had left, that was the first time he had company for dinner and he felt himself a little nervous, which he ultimately thought was stupid; he was too old for this bullshit, and you were not old enough to be causing such a comotion inside of him, a man who strived for harmony. He didn’t like being out of balance, but you were like an itch he had to scratch.

The two of you ate in silence, apart from a shy compliment on your part on his homemade sauce - which he enjoyed far more than he would like to admit. You insisted on doing the dishes and basically shooshed him out of the kitchen. A bit amazed by the fact that he was being expelled from his own kitchen, Mihawk went up to the library with his wine glass, where he picked up a book, set up his record player, and sat down to read.

When you came to join him, you walked in, trying to make as little noise as possible. You sat down next to the chess table close to one of the windows, put down your wine glass, and brought one of your knees to your chess, thinking. Mihawk, seeing that, got up and, without saying a word, took the place in front of you. He kept reading his book during your turns, and you examined the stars during his. Mihawk, trying to be gentlemanly, did his best to avoid looking at the strip of skin that showed from under your skirt; however, he couldn’t avoid that his gaze would eventually make its way to the back of your thighs.

Once again, you seemed to drag your turn, unsure of yourself and if the move was the correct one. Mihawk kept trying to encourage you - “Miss Y/N, this is just a game of chess. There's no need to overanalyze it.” Eventually, you pouted and sighed. “Yeah, well, this is easy for you to say. You’re the best swordsman in the world, right? I’m not the best at anything, I’m struggling to be mediocre at everything”.

Mihawk thought to himself that this was probably not true and that even though ambition and persistence were something he prized very much - if it weren’t for Roronoa’s will to eventually surpass him, he would never have entertained the idea of training him -, he thought you were being too hard on yourself.

And he wasn’t willing to admit he was being biased.

“I understand the aspiration to continually strive for self-improvement, and I believe it is important to pursue personal development in a constructive manner. It is not advisable to be overly critical of oneself in this pursuit. However, if there is a genuine desire for self-improvement, it should be pursued diligently.”

You smiled and looked down at the chess board, finally making your move. “I think… It’s just another way of being afraid of messing up things, you know? I’ve been pressured all my life to be perfect, my uncle kept telling me that he’d never find a suitor for me because I was useless, so he had me trained in a bunch of stuff that I wouldn’t necessarily need, like cooking, baking, sewing and a bunch more. Just to appease some future hypothetical husband.” Mihawk could feel the disdain in your voice, sharp as a knife. “So… I may not have a lot of life skills, but I can bake you a lovely apple pie while I sew buttons to your shirt. Nice, huh?”

Mihawk didn’t reply, as he didn’t know what to say; the swordsman just took a sip of wine and watched as your face grew redder and redder, and it seemed like you were fighting with emotions internally.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be throwing all of this on you.” You said with a modulated voice, clearly trying to sound nonchalant. “I think it’s best if I go back to my room, I still need to finish organizing my clothes.”

“Certainly, Y/N. We can resume this at a later time.” With a nod, you walked out of the room, leaving Mihawk to finish his wine glass by himself.

Eventually, you two discovered a routine that seemed to work: during the day, Mihawk would leave you be, and by the noises around the house, he knew that you spent most of your day reading, playing chess, or baking; whenever you crossed paths in the halls, you would acknowledge him with a smile. At night, you would cook together, mostly in silence, or, on the occasion that Mihawk would indulge you, you would sit on a stool near the counter and read the newspaper for him. He could sense in your voice how proud you were every time there was a headline about the strawhats, and he took notice of your keeping those pages for yourself.

When you were done eating, Mihawk would either bring you to the library, where you would continue a match of chess you had started the previous night, or you would make your way to the garden, where you propped your telescope — that Franky so kindly took out of the Sunny for you — and studied the night sky while Mihawk, after setting up some old record in his record player, sat next to you reading a book.

Slowly, like a flower blossoming during spring, you started opening up to him: how life was before running away, the friends you had left behind, how your uncle treated you, how your parents passed, your likes and dislikes… Mihawk collected those pieces of information as if they were pearls to put on a string, as collectively, they were the experiences that formed who you were. As much as he wasn't someone who enjoyed small talk, he was a good listener, and as he had said to the cook, he was curious about you.

He was enjoying taking his time knowing you, which made him even more grumpy when taking notice of his next mission.

That night, after dinner, Mihawk presented you with a tiny den den mushi. “Y/N, I will be leaving Kuraigana for a while as I have a business to deal with. This den den mushi is so you can still communicate with me, even when I'm away, in an emergency.” You looked sad while taking the little snail from his hands and looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. “It'll be lonely in this big house by myself, but I hope you'll come back safe.”

“Fuck,” Mihawk thought, “It is nice to have someone waiting for you back home.”

You had called Mihawk almost every night; he got a little startled the first time, but you called for five minutes just to check with him. But now, a week and a half later, your calls lasted a little longer while you told him about your day: you were taking care of his garden for him, finished a couple of books, rearranged the furniture in your room, read about the strawhats in the newspaper. Mihawk spent most of the calls quietly listening, but the sound of your voice was soothing enough for him to set his usual grumpiness and stoic nature for a moment and spoil himself by pretending he was back at home.

“God, I hope I’m not bothering you. I’ve been blabbering non-stop for a long time now, haven’t I?”

“To some extent, yes.” Mihawk felt your hesitation on the line.

“Sorry. I’m just used to having a lot of people around me, either the servants back home or the guys in the Thousand Sunny… I don’t know how to be alone. But I apologize, I understand you’re busy, and I shouldn’t be distracting you. Just… Do you know when you’re coming back?”

“Three days. Around lunchtime.”

“Ok! Thanks. I’ll let you go now. Bye!” And just like that, you were gone.

Mihawk wished you kept calling.

As always, Mihawk started relaxing as soon as he saw the silhouette of Kuraigana; every time he had to leave home, he held his breath until he came back. Looking up, he could see a small shadow in one of the top windows, which vanished as soon as he saw it.

After finally stepping foot on dry land, Mihawk started walking the distance to the castle, holding onto his coat, trying to make sure that his surprise wouldn’t escape his arms. With a smile, you were waiting for him in the entrance hall, and he could smell something in the kitchen. Now that you were wearing shorts and a t-shirt, Mihawk could see that the bruises had faded away during the time he was out of Kuraigana. “Welcome back!”

“I have brought something for you. ”You looked up at the pirate, curious and shy.

“Oh god, please don’t bother with me. You don’t need to get me things.”

“You said you were lonely, so I merely brought you some companion,” Mihawk said, opening his coat and revealing, curled up to his side, a tiny black kitten with striking yellow eyes. You immediately cooed at the little pet, taking it into your arms and cradling the kitty like a baby. “He’s so cute! What’s his name?”

“He is yours. You name him.” You held the cat until you could stare it in the eyes.

“Midnight? What do you think, huh? Do you feel like Midnight?” The cat licked your nose, eliciting a giggle out of you. Mihawk, despite feeling tired from traveling, felt a warmth on his chest.

With a smile big and bright enough to outshine the sun itself, you looked up to the swordsman. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. Now let’s get to the kitchen. I’ve baked a lasagna, and there’s a cherry pie in the oven, too.” Still carrying Midnight in your arms, you went to the kitchen without looking back.

Mihawk could do nothing but follow you. 

[ghulehcirice]

Lavender Fog Part 2

[Phantom Ghoul X Reader]

[A/N]; Hey Babes! Thank you for all the love on part one I really wasn’t expecting it all I want this to be as amazing as good as I can make it but let’s go over a few reminders!

TW/CW list; the ghouls are described more in-depth as pack like creatures and are displayed as doing things such as nesting and scenting, as well as purring, there will be talk of harassment and bullying not done by any of our main characters, foul language such as whore, slut and other unsavoury words will be used for reader! Please remember you are none of those things! This fic will incorporate the Possessive!Phantom elements I was aiming for last chapter! Some siblings of sin shit talking the ghouls and calling them inhuman, demons etc.

THIS IS NOT ABOUT THE PEOPLE BEHIND THE MASKS AND I DO NOT WANT THEN TO BE DRAGGED INTO THIS.

I am all for respecting people and ideas. My philosophy with this is that the band was originally established to be completely anonymous I will keep that with everyone. Which does include the ghouls and papas.

On a more silly note I want to include Copia more and I am an autistic and trans Copia truther and he will probably resemble my own expirences!

With that being said I will add any tws that are needed so let’s get started.

Apparently this connection you both shared was a rarity between humans and ghouls, you knew ghouls often get attached to people, thinking back to all the videos you have seen of Omega and Papa Terzo. But it’s not often that that bond happens between a newly summoned ghoul and a regular sibling of sin.

The past few days had been a whirlwind of organizing with you, Copia and Sister Imperator. Quickly you’ve come to learn you can’t spend a whole lot of time away from phantom, Lest you want a ghoul fussing over wheter you’ve eaten, if you’ve been hurt, etc. you had to move into the ghouls den with him, not that you really cared, they have their own kitchens and everything. That’s not even starting on just how comfortable ghoul nests are. That reminds you to swap some of the clothes you had given him to build his nest with so you had clean clothes.

Your past few days had consisted of alot of this, swapping clothes from the nest, getting moved into the den, figuring out what you’re going to do in the clergy now because you can’t do a whole lot with your puppy of a boyfriend (is that what you two are? Cirrus called it being mates but also said it’s not a title to be taken lightly.) It has also been a lot of getting to know Papa on a more personal level as he helped you learn about ghouls. Quickly you’ve come to learn Papas not very different from anyone else in this Abbey. He had a very big love of his rats VERY BIG. This man really loves rats, outside of his papal makeup he struggles with things anyone else does, eye contact, talking, confidence. Can I just emphasize how much this man loves rats and rodent like animals? Same with those old really shity 8 but games. If you asked me last week how big a rodents test were I WOULD NOT have guessed that they do not stop growing. The fact Copia had stuttered out when you first met was going straight into your little box of horrors. Right next to the fucking talking plant from that show.

On days you spend in the papal library, you would often be coddled near to loving suffocation from Phantom. Smell is a large thing for ghouls, so you usually have to spend anywhere between an hour and a half all the way through 4 hours cuddling with a ghoul so you’re properly scented. And no, you can’t move unless it’s absolutely necessary even then you get trailed to and from whatever the important thing was. Once you both are settled further, you need to have a talk about space and boundaries. You know he’s been trying his best to learn between everything. On the nights you spend in eachothers arms he tells you about some ghoul customs, although you can’t hear a whole lot over the… purring? Apparently ghouls do in fact purr when they’re happy and you were not hearing things. Had to have Copia help you realize that one. But he told you about something, the name was in infernal tounge, which is apparently the native tounge in the pit. But it seemed similar to promise rings.

From your understanding, ghouls who were mating would forge a ring of this extremely tough material that’s found in the pit, it’s hard to find and even harder to meld into shape. He told you that if you could find that material and mold it perfectly to fit the chosen partner and return it then you were fated to be together. In turn you told phantom about your newly acquired fact and in turn would tell him about human courting and dating culture, like how in most cultures people also exchange rings, and get their love officiated in often times extravagant ceremonies. And you promised him one day you’d take him on a human date, once he properly learned how to glamour.

It was hard at first, learning how to balance phantom with your learning and the tasks you had quickly picked up around the den. It would turn out most siblings of sin arent brave enough to come down here to do their chores. So you were the go to for any task that had to be done by a human granted you could be pulled from phantoms death grasp long enough to accomplish anything of course leading to more phantom cuddles and scenting. The more you let it happen the nicer it became you had to admit it was pretty nice to have someone caring about you so much that they wanted to coddle you.

But on your next escapade from the ghouls den you quickly learned that ghouls can also have a protective streak. This was abit of a later trip then you would usually be on, if you had to take a guess Terzo might’ve gotten his dick stuck in the eyehole of a ghouls mask… again. Wasn’t your job to question though. On your route to Copias quarters you were cornered by some siblings of sin. They caught you in the old corridors, which was very strange because no one was supposed to have access to this place.

“Can I help you folks?” You muttered out with the confusion clearly lacing your words. The siblings snickered at you cruelly jeering like hyenas when you tried to duck around them only to be stepped infront of by one of them.

“Arent you the ghoul fucker?” The tallest of the flock sneers, confused you step back only to hit the wall “I’m sorry the what?” The siblings just laugh at your confusion, looking to and from one another and oogling you like a circus freak.

“You’re fucking that new ghoul aren’t you? The one that’s replacing the Aether ghoul?” They repeat, watching you with the eyes of a hawk. The two on either side of her chuckle and close in on you, forcing you to curl closer into yourself. Out of the corner of your eye you could’ve sworn you could see a flash of weirdly coloured fog, though it’s probably nothing.

“Im not ‘fucking’ anyone. Why would you ask such a thing?”

“Everyone always knew you were a whore, are you trying to get into papas pants through his ghouls? Or are you just a slut like that? You know none of the ghouls would even care about you right? They’re monsters! They can’t feel any real human emotions, you’re delusional if you think any of them care about you. It will dump you out once it finds something better to have at.”

You flinched away at the siblings cruel words. They didn’t know anything about your bond with phantom and the others. You knew they were nothing like these siblings of sin said. Taking a deep breath, you recentred yourself and just stare at the group. Using all the i don’t give a shit energy you’ve picked up from Mountain to deter them.

They didn’t seem to like this very much because they started stepping closer and closer, if you’re being honest you felt like the nerd kid in any 90s high school setting getting their lunch money taken by the bully jocks. Before they could pick you up by your feet and shake all the coins from your pocket like a rag doll and give you a swirlie in the school toilet, the smallest of the group was shot to the floor in a heap of black, white, and.. lavender? Oh shit.

Phantom must have come to find you, or one of the ghouls seen the sibling bothering you and went to tell your mate. Before you could wrack your brain you were torn away by the scream of the other two siblings who were backing away from the scene. Within an instant papa was out of his quarters, clearly having just woken up given the disheveled look he was in, only having on his Mickey Mouse pyjama pants and being bare chested on top. Wait, does papa have top surgery scars? Oh cool. You could tell papa was a little fruity, now you knew why. Quickly you and Copia worked together to get phantom away from the sibling who didn’t seem to be hurt, looked to be a few cuts from phantoms claws.. he has claws?? The sibling probably had a few bumps and bruises from the fall too.

Papa took the three siblings after you abashedly gave him the file you were supposed to, leaving you to calm down Phantom, Now that everything was calmed down, you quickly realized Phantom didn’t have his mask on which was a surprise because on one hand, the ghouls aren’t supposed to have their masks off anywhere average siblings could see them and two, Phantom hasn’t taken off his mask around you yet, when you two first met he had an old Era 3 mask on. He told you he wasn’t the most comfortable with his face, telling you that he had gotten pretty beaten up during his summoning, and that he had birthmarks he didn’t like. You couldn’t see why, he has Lichtenberg scar righ down his left eye and moving down and across the bridge of his nose the eye it when through was a lighter shade of purple then his right, you found him beautiful but he really didn’t like it, you’re probably gonna have to give him a lot of cuddles tonight.

Once everyone was away from the scene, Phantom stared into your face, breathing heavy. It felt as though everything fell silent and still. Until Phantom ran at you, and picked you up into a bridal carry, without speaking her took you back to the den. When you arrived in the lounge the other ghouls all watched you, with Cirrus and Aurora coming up to check on you. Phantom held you away possessively from the woman, He ignored everyone and took you to your shared room.

You were definitely right about having to give him extra cuddles that night. When he laid you down and got into bed, before dragging you onto his chest and taking your face in his hands.

“Are you okay?” He asks, gently handling your face as he looked it over for scars, in turn you grab his face and kiss his own scars, using your spare hand to guide his hand to feel your heart beat.

“I should be asking you that, bug. You didn’t have to fight them for me. They’re just jealous.” He growls at the mention of the incident, gently nibbling at your hand that held his face. He doesn’t reply but gently shifts you from his chest and goes to his chest of draws, he rustles around and grabs an short for you and puts it on the bed for you before grabbing his own clothes

“I’d be a bad mate if I didn’t.” He leaves to get changed and you get into the shirt, and gently re arrange the nest to be comfortable for a good nap. You can hear Cirrus checking up on phantom and the muttering of Their conversation. Once phantom is back, you curl into his side as phantom purrs and hums the tune of Little Sunshine.

Deep down you think you’ll be just fine with your mate.

—————————————————————————

[A/N; WE DID IT! I hit major writers block with this, I wanna thank you all for the love on Part one, and especially @pinklunarprincess for supporting my posts thus far, you were the first person (from my memory) to encourage me with part one and I thank you! I hope you guys enjoy, I’m too exhausted to beta read right now so if I missed anything PLEASE let me know, I’m working on another little fic idea I’ve had so hopefully something will be out soon<3 love you all and thank you

[tacharie]

Thoughts for The Montkraken Episode

so, I just finished the chapter and… wow I have a lot to say. I took screen shots for every part I wanted to talk about and I think this rant will be SUPERRRR long so bear with me. Tumblr won’t let me add screenshots so when I have better service I’ll edit the post to add them. These paragraphs are theories and side notes that I wrote after reading a certain section so you’re gonna see my thought process throughout the story. As always, spoilers ahead so I recommend skipping this if you haven’t read it already.

Alright so I was once a hater of this ship BUT… the Shobaru shippers may have a point in this guys 😭. LIKE.. I HAVE THE SCREENSHOT OF SUBARU BLUSHING UHHH. That is not a heterosexual stare feller 🤨…

AHHHHHHH THE FROSTHEIM DUO ARE BACKKKKK!!! I missed them so so much they’re so silly and deserve the best. Honestly the only two I trust in this school cause I CANT. I literally suspect anyone but them, but Imma be so disappointed if either of them are hiding something. I’ll be sad, but like I’ll help 🙄. I was actually so sad when the MC mentioned being the reason they could be in danger like GIRLLLLL DONT SAY THAT PLEASEEEEE. ITS LIKE THE ANGST WITH ADEUCE AND YUU LIKE STAWPOPP. Also when the Vagastorm kids were like “aw yeah Mido wouldn’t lie like that” it makes me happy that people can at least trust him enough to be honest and idk I found that kinda sweet :3. We’re also getting a bit of a timeline, like the One-Eyed Sleeping Beauty Murder being BEFORE the clash (sorry if this was already mentioned I don’t really remember stuff from the past chapters) which could’ve been a trigger.

Also, I feel like they’re trying to tell us that Jiro is Zenji’s brother because when he had that little laugh about the MC being scared of bodies, he said too. When you click the “too?” option, he just says that he isn’t the one afraid. It’s not Yuri as well cause he’s literally a doctor that is in the same room when autopsies are in session. Whatever the case, I assume he was referencing to Zenji, though it being a blurry memory. Little theory tho.

OK SO THIS IS JUST SO FUNNY TO ME. In Chapter 9’s title it says, “Girl Learns Shocking Truth About Monster”. I like to think the shocking truth was the fact he didn’t shower for 3 days 😭. CAUSE THATS THE PART SHE SOUNDS MOST SHOCKED. Idk that part was silly to me. THEY’RE OUTFITS FOR THEIR DORM IS SOOOOOO PRETTY. They ate I fear, a bit more than the other dorms. Also side note, they dropped A LOT of info with just how they word things. For example, Yuri saying “Jiro, you are well aware that I will not be associated with those germs AGAIN.” Soooo Yuri was in Frostheim? I don’t doubt it bc there’s another line that says “I’d rather not recall how bitterly cold that place is” which can MEAN TWO THINGS. I’m super sure that they’re implying that yeah, he was, but then something happened blah blah blah.

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH HYDE AND DANTE??? Like ok bitches, spill your shot to us too don’t be shy. So, confirmed by them, Dante and Hyde used to go to school in Darkwick (which I assume the rest of the teachers are too). That explains their back and forth. WHAT REALLY CAUGHT MY EYE WERE THESE LINES.

Hyde: “…You really are a softie, Dan-Dan.” (Haha Dan- Dan)

Dante: “It would seem that way to someone as cold as you.” (???) “…There are lines that shouldn’t be crossed, Hyde.”

Hyde: “…I’ll keep that in mind.”

WHATTTTT. WHAT ARE THE LINES. GO IN DETAIL ARGHHHHH. This gives us more info on the character individually too. Dante describes Hyde as cold… DANTE. So, it was obvious that this whole happy go lucky attitude was fake, but I expected to be more like Haru’s kind of attitude not like that yk?? now I know how much of a cash grab this game is, but I really hope they aren’t going to stretch the story out too long to the point where you have to P2W cause I haven’t paid a cent and I don’t plan to. I still want to learn more about them and stuff so :(. On the topic of Dante, there was a small flashback where I missed a word in the sentence that Dante said while talking with Alan. “I’m the man you supposedly killed.” Supposedly?? Now, I didn’t my catch this in my first run, but now it’s like wdym supposedly?? Shouldn’t you know? This is giving hella Jiro vibes and honestly, I’m getting sick and tired of these characters having a bad memory.

SPEAKING OF JIRO- he seems to have problems remembering things and they come back to him in the very weird moments (honestly a kin moment). I would like the think that he’s just suffering from the damages he had to go through from the clash. His relationship with Yuri is so… sad to me. Yuri seems to doubt him a little bit and I feel like he sees him as just a specimen, not much of a friend. Meanwhile, Jiro smiles a lot to Yuri and listens to him like a master, like that’s what he’s supposed to do. NOT AGAINST HIS OWN WILL DONT GET ME WRONG. He’s just so neutral about it it makes me a bit like awwww :(. They’re cute tho idrc.

Ok moving on to Haku and Tohma. (Ok at this point I’m getting nervous cause why are we seeing so many characters now. That’s probably just a coincidence). OK THESE TWO HAVE GOT IT GOING. Like there’s tension when you get their chat in the campus but this is like woahhhh… Also I don’t like how Tohma says “our wheelhouse? I see..” it makes me think he’s like implying ��so you think you’re a part of them now?” IDK THATS JUST MY LITTLE STRETCH. Also poor Zenji, he’s like “aw yeah I died in vain lol” LIKE OUCH.

Nicholas. I DO NOT LIKE HIM. I REPEAT. I DO NOT LIKE HIM FOR A MINUTE OF A SECOND. The only staff I like are the cats, the grocer guy, and MAYBE Dante. LIKE HES SO… NORMAL?? LIKE THERE’S SOMETHING WEIRD GOING ON IK THERE IS. When MC says “I can’t believe Professor Nicolas would do something like that” I DO 😡🙋‍♀️. I am in full support of Yuri finding crimes against this guy.

Also, little other side note, I just realized that Yuri and Jiro have matching earring in opposite ears. It’s so cute.

Ok I might have to go back to the beginning and see what the “goat like anomaly” Jiro is talking about when he mentions the prophecy, cause I said “… the chancellor is a goat??” BUT ANYWAYS. Speaking of the prophecy, I’ll jot it down.

“The whisper of the new moon shall lead the champion to the academy on the solitary island. So long as the champion resides there, the world shall be sheltered from profound tragedy.”

Stating the obvious here, but this is most likely referencing to the last cutscenes we get when we choose our characters. I’ve checked the cutscenes again and there’s no visible moon, meaning it could correlate to the “new moon” portion. (Search up new moon to see what I mean). Assuming Solitary island means death, that would also help with the theory. So, whoever we chose in the beginning might just be the person who won the Laurel Crown.Honestly, this is just a silly little Drabble for a theory and VERY vague. Maybe the champion resides in the events of the past that we still don’t know about but this kinda helps?? Idk I’m just putting what I think at the moment. I’ll probably reread the game so I can get a better timeline. Also, Yuri’s rant about demon particles… doesn’t exactly sit right with me. Were they chosen to be resilient or was it just a birth thing?? Idk but I feel like a lot is missing from his theory. I mean, we’re using human logic to a supernatural cause so I don’t think pacts acting as allergies would work. If they’re not chosen, could it be that the ghouls can make pacts with more than one demon? I wanna see what happens if that was the case. Please comment if I missed something 😭.

Ok Towa appeared. (Why are we seeing so many characters I don’t like this) and we went back to that tree… WHAT IS THAT TREE?? And what the hell do you mean the fruit grew? What is that fruit supposed to be? An anomaly going to birth?? Is it supposed to represent the houses?? Motivation?? It seems so weird to me cause we just got introduced to that tree last episode. Sighs.

OK REN AND RITSU. WHAT IS GOING ON. I GUESS SINCE THIS IS THE LADT CHAPTER FOR INTRODUCING CHARACTERS BUT LIKE … STOP. I feel like something is going to happen with the MC pls 😭. Anyway, those two talking about ramen is so cute please don’t ever change you virgin and lizard looking freak 🫶( with love of course). GROCER GUYYYYYYY. YIPPEE :3!! I love that the cat is the owner and not the human lmao.

Also I will always be a MC defender cause she is so relatable. “Why are hospitals so creepy at night?” GIRL IKKKKKK. Idc what y’all say, the fact that she’s normal is keeping me sane from these freaky deaky events. ILOVE NORMAL CHARACTERS! LIKE MATSUDA FROM DEATH NOTE OR THAT ONE GUY FROM MASHELE. Anyways, I love her little comments and everything she’s so silly. Idrc if she doesn’t have much of a backbone cause honestly, she’s surrounded by danger so the best she should do is listen to the people that are constantly surrounded by it.

ALSO NEW THING. (Well idk if it’s new but yeah).

mention of a Dionysia Breakout. <—— Idk what that is, but it sounds like a little more. I love little details and slip ups thanks characters <3!!

HA! HAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA! I WIN NICOLAS 😈!!! YOU DO HAVE SOMETHING TO HIDE. AND I WILL FIND IT TRUST YOU WILL BE DELT WITH. I WILL KNOW THE PRIOR PAST >:(!! Also, Moby is being soooo annoying tbh. More character descriptions to add: competitive as a teacher. NO ONE WILL MAKE YOU HATE YOU JIRO ‼️‼️‼️ HES SO SWEET He literally asks if we’re scared and says we can hang back awwww. Though he doesn’t understand much, he can use logic and he can at least understand how we feel. It’s a nice sentiment :)!

I can’t take the transformation seriously I’m sorry. I’m still impressed by Yuri’s deductive skills and the transformation just sounded like he was constipated.

THE WHOLE BATTLE SCENE WAS EPIC!! MC HESITATING BECAUSE OF LEOS WORDS BUT STILL PUSHING FORWARD. YURI GETTING FLUSTERED. JIRO SMILING AND TRUSTING YURI’S ORDERS. THE FUNNY EXCHANGE ABOUT MUSCLE WHEN THEY WERE CARRYING THE POD. Those annoying ass pussy sticks we call Darkwick students 😡. JIRO LOOKING BADASS AFTER THE SHOT. URGHHHH I LOVE THIS CHAPTER.

HARU AND PEEKABOOOOO!! AHHHHH IM SO HAPPY I SEE THEM AGAIN!! I’m so glad he’s going to Hyde too cause I’m not ready. Also… the mermaid thing is so weird. For the Montkraken Mermaid, they seem to refer to it as “it” or “that mermaid”, but when they speak of the second mermaid, they use personal pronouns like “he /him”. Haru’s expression as well when he heard someone was abusing mermaid flesh… it’s a new one with a little crease under his eye. It’s such a sad face like, did he know this mermaid personally or was this fear?? Either way, I wanna meet him cause the other one was so pretty.

…You guys know the “I see who you are… you are my enemy” sound that’s on TikTok or reels or wtv? YEAH THATS SONG WAS PLAYING IN MY HEAD WHEN HYDE SAID WE HAD TO DO A SPEECH. HYDE IM IN YOUR WALLS. URGHHHH I HATE HIMMMMM. Call to action my ass IK either Taiga or Leo are gonna get their asses out of the door after the speech. OR BOTH. I’m starting to tweak.

NOOOOO THE SPEECH IS THE NEXT CHAPTER?? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

I feel so bad for Zenji… like I’m so deadass. Dude he sounds so sad about how he’s dead it’s so.. URGHHHH. ALSO I CALLED IT. THEY ARE BROTHERS. AHAHHAHA!! Well it was kinda obvious cause everyone thought it too but WOMP WOMP. Also I love his real name, Taro Kirisaki. It’s pretty :)!! But these lines killed me

“and though I have taken my final blow, my brotherly heart can’t help but worry for my kin. … Not that he has any idea I’m still around.” YEOUCH?? I DIDNT COME TO CRY BRO…

I’m tweaking out because of this speech bro. I’m gonna choose the corniest stuff and hope for the best. “I feel bad please stop for me 🥺” headass.

Taiga is officially my enemy as well. I called that shit about him leaving URGH. WHAT A FLIBBERTYJIBBET!! His outfit eats tho so it balances out. LIKE DAMNNNN. HE LOOKS SO GOOD.

DOUBLE?? TRIPLE??? QUINTUPLE???? HELL I MIGHT BECOME A GHOUL TO GET THAT MONEY GOLLY 😍😍😍!! CAUSE IN THIS ECONOMY??Also thanks Jin you a real one twin. Bouta split this cash with my wife and I’ll send you a wedding invite.

EDWARD. ED PLEASE. STOP PUTTING ME IN THE SPOTLIGHT… well it’s out now so woopy!! I really wonder what the others have to say about that cause they just gave really vague surprised reactions. Well, Ritsu documented it. I love that little guy please don’t ever change you silly.

NUMBER ONE CORNELIUS HATER IDC. Unless I know your intentions I DONT CAREEEEE. YOU ARE AN OPP IT IS ON SIGHT WITH YOU. SAME WITH YOU NICOLAS!! “I didn’t know whether to tell you or not I’m sowwy 🥺” CHUPA MI PITO HOE 😡.

… you’re telling me I didn’t have to do that awful speech because DANTE AGREED?? IM DONE. IM WHOOPING EVERYONE IN THE ROOM AND AURING THE PLACE OUT. FIRST ONES OUT ARE HYDE FOR NOT TELLING ME, NICOLAS, AND CORNELIUS. ARGHHHHHHH. Also, dude, who is that Janitor guy like seriously.

ROMEO??? AND HYDE???? WHAT IS THIS ABOUT BUTTERCUP?? Wdym worked for him?? What is going on… SPECIAL MISSION??? SHO??? OH NAW. I CANT TRUST NOBODY ANYMORE 😭

Towa crying :(. What does the fruit shrinking have to do with it now?? I’m so confused.

ALRIGHT IF YOU MADE IT TO THE END WOW YOU HAVE DEDICATION. Yeah this is my personal yap session to this chapter and it’s so URGH. I’m so excited to see the next chapter and I hope we get to see more and more. Now with the Gala in place, we can finally start WORKING. Based on the timeline, we have about … 8 months left?? So hopefully, for MC’s sake, she gets cured. BYE BYE UNTIL NEXT EPISODE!!

[yawneneteyam]

ALL THINGS CONNECTED | j. flatters chapter three — can i interview you?

summary: growing up on the set of avatar: the way of water was a dream. your friends had become your family, all except for one. jamie was the one person you always found yourself drawn to, in ways more complex than the title of 'best friends' [2.9k].

pairing: fem!reader x jamie flatters

notes: based on jamie flatters documentary: all things connected. co-stars/friends to lovers. inspired by @cacapeepee. mentions of eating habits.

masterlist ⎸ chapter two | chapter four

2017.

"CAN I INTERVIEW YOU?" JAMIE ASKED you. The pair of you were sat in his trailer where you were supposed to be running lines.. but you can't really go off track if you were never on it to begin with... right?

the way you both always managed to become sidetracked from your work could astound anyone. always finding some excuse not to rehearse, but rather to sit and enjoy each other's company.

"interview me?" you asked him, a confused look etched onto your face, "what for?".

jamie was sat on the couch opposite yours, his legs cross at the ankles as he laid on the plush cushions. he tilted his head to the side so he could see you better. you were looking at him just up from your phone, where you were texting bailey.

"I don't know, it's kinda stupid-"

"-but" you cut him off, raising your eyebrows.

"-but" he emphasised, "I kind of want to make a video of our time on set, like.. I don't know- a documentary?"

you noticed the way jamie stopped looking at you and went back to fiddling with his old camcorder. he tended to always carry it with him, no one ever really paid much attention to him filming little things on set. he always would find a space to film where no one would take much notice of him shooting, but where he could still get the shot he wanted.

"is that why you're filming all the time?" but jamie forgets that you always take notice of what he does. you two were intertwined like that, you both paid attention to the small things about the other. there were many times you had caught jamie filming you and your castmates, or just you.

the first time was when you were sitting with trinity in the makeup trailer. she was on your lap and you were singing to her, whilst making her dance, controlling her arms. trinity's giggles filled the entire trailer that morning, jamie had just come in to get his face done- quickly getting a shot from the doorway of the trailer, one that focused on you.

there were more times. times were you would be running stunts, practicing your breathing or messing around in the tanks. you always thought he was just filming his castmates, but you always seemed to find your way into the main focus of his shots.. he couldn't tell you how it happened... it just did?

"I've kinda already started," he said, a small smirk appearing on his face.

"yeah, I've noticed" you laughed, "what's it gonna be on?"

"I want to cover the build up to the movie coming out, you know? show how much we grow up and change.. sounds silly, but I think it would be really interesting to see in however many years" jamie spoke nervously, but you heard the passion that laid underneath his words.

"I think it sounds awesome," you nodded, "you can interview me."

"not now though" he sighed, sitting up.

"what?" you followed in suit, "why?" you asked.

"because now you're expecting it, I don't want you to have time to overthink the answers" he chuckled, putting his camera down on the table. jamie moves over to the kitchenette and sits at the table, grabbing the small plastic container of watermelon the two of you were sharing earlier. you look at him for a while before breaking out into a soft smile. he squints his eyes at you, a playful gaze on his face. "what," he chuckles, his two front teeth peaking out in a small grin.

you lean forwards and pick up his camera, turn it on and press record.

"how do I zoom?" your voice isn't of the highest quality, but it was still clear. there was a soft buzzing in the background, but no way to tell if it was the camera itself or the trailer. "oh wait-" the frame zooms quickly into jamie's face- "I got it"

he chuckles, running his hand over his hair. you let out a deep breath before speaking again. "okay, what's your name?" you ask.

jamie laughs for a second, stopping himself from eating a cube of watermelon "seriously?"

you scoff, "yes? can we try again; what's your name?"

he lets out a sigh, sitting up slightly from his slouched position against the trailer wall. "my name is jamie flatters."

"birth name james" you interject.

"my name is james flatters" he is seen sighing and rolling his eyes.

"how old are you?" your voice comes through the recording again.

"I'm seventeen,"

"and where are you?"

"on the set of avatar: the way of water" he smiled, putting a piece of watermelon in his mouth to eat.

"so," you say, "what's the dream?"

the frame zooms out a tiny bit, showing jamie from the chest up, who was licking some of the juice from the fruit off of his finger. "I mean.." he sighs, "I want to be the best actor I possibly can be. I- I basically just like want to watch a film I'm in and be like: that's a stranger. that's someone I don't know." jamie smiles softly at you behind the camera, his eyes looking just above the lens. he puts another piece of watermelon on his fork and says, "I think that would be a really cool feeling," before eating it.

"what do you think has changed your perspective on the world? like since starting this.. process" you could be heard chuckling behind the camera, just grabbing onto words at this point to put something together for jamie's film.

"the girl behind the camera right here," he says jokingly.

"aww," you say over dramatically.

"jokes, jokes" he chuckles. he knew he didn't mean it though, you had adjusted his perspective, he just didn't know how to put it into words really. "I see the world as a lot bigger, so- so I'm no longer in my bubble of my own mind." he says, looking down at his food before back up at you. "my new friends have changed my perspective a considerable amount. I've now made friends that are all over the world, so I'll never look at the world in the same way."

"that was very deep, mr flatters.. wow," you swallowed and took a breath before asking a mother question. "if- if you could describe this experience in a few- or one word, what would it be?"

jamie paused for a moment, looking around his trailer. "giving," he nodded, "it's been very giving".

you smiled, looking from the viewfinder to meet jamie's eyes. "thank you so much for your time, sir. james 'jamie' flatters, everyone." you turn off the recording.

"wait jon-" you turned around in your seat to find him, "so what are we actually going to do there?"

you and the rest of the new cast were headed to disney's animal kingdom theme park in florida to do a press release for the film. the bus that was taking you there was quite small, but being sat next to trinity gave you lots of extra room.

"so we'll take some photos, do some interviews, look around at all of the outside" he explained, "then you'll get to do flight of passage, and the river journey ride"

"we get to actually go on the rides?" trinity, turned around in her seat and got up on her knees so she could see jon.

"yes trin," he chuckled, "you can go on the rides"

the rest of the bus ride wasn't long, you were at the park shortly after. you got to look at some of the other attractions before heading into pandora.

"this is fucking crazy," jamie leant down, so he could talk quietly in your ear, knowing trinity was just in front of you both. "how cool is this?"

you marvelled at the sights ahead of you, "it's amazing" you whispered. "I don't even know what to say," you looked up at him with wide eyes, "this is insane."

"look, y/n! the floating mountains!" trinity turned around and grabbed your hand, running the two of you forwards, pulling bailey along with you.

"oh my goodness, they actually look like they're floating" bailey exclaimed.

"how do they do that?!" trinity turned around and looked at you both in bewilderment. you were convinced you were there, in pandora. it was the most surreal feeling, actually seeing it all with your own eyes. it felt like a privilege that shouldn't be afforded to you. you were lucky to be standing there, in the place closest to the real thing.

the press photos went relatively quickly. you were sat on the ground next to jamie, holding trinity in your lap for a few shots, standing with bailey for others. you watched as the boys did some short little interviews before going on the rides, you stood with bailey, trinity off waiting with jamie.

"he was staring at you before," bailey whispered, nudging you slightly.

"who?" you asked softly.

bailey turned to you dumbfounded, confused as to why you even had to ask her. "jamie," she said.

"what do you mean?" your face scrunched up in confusion slightly.

"what do you mean 'what do I mean'? I mean he was staring at you," she chuckled softly, trying to keep quiet. "he's always staring at you," she smiled, "he totally likes you."

"oh no," you shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest, "no way."

"you're kidding right?" she asked, "how can you not see it?"

"I don't know what you're looking at, but it's definitely not the same thing that I'm seeing," you smiled with a laugh.

"hmm," she mumbled, "speak for yourself, I know I know" she smirked at you.

"sure," you scoffed with a laugh.

your day unfolded nicely. you all got to go on the 'flight of passage' ride, feeling what it would be like to ride a banshee. you were sat with britain and duane, laughing at duane screaming for majority of the ride. 'bro this is sick!' came from your right, 'dude, I know!' from your left.

you shot a few more interviews after the first ride, little shots of vision of your reactions after your lifelike banshee encounters. lining up for the 'na'vi river journey', jamie came up behind you.

"trinity has something she wants to ask you," he whispered. you jumped slightly from him sneaking up on you. you laughed at him before looking down at him.

"what's up?" you crouched down to her level. she was playing with her fingers and looked nervous before speaking.

"could I sit with you on the ride?" she asked quietly.

"trin, you don't have to ask me" you chuckled, "of course you can,"

"I want sit with jamie too though," she looked up at him and then back to you.

"that's okay, we all sit together" you nodded.

"I guess I can put up with her for you, trin" jamie whispered down to her. she giggled, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes- like she had just been told a secret.

"hmm," you narrowed your gaze at jamie, "I don't like you some days." you turned away from jamie and faced your back to him.

"you're a bad liar," he leant forwards, whispering into your ear. you smirked and turned your head slightly, so you could see him in your peripheral.

"I know, I just like to keep you guessing" you whispered back, a smirk on your lips. he shook his head and bit his tongue, standing up straight once again. as you looked back you caught eyes with bailey, who raised her eyebrows at you with a grin before looking away.

the ride was beautiful, the soundtrack was unlike anything else you had ever heard before. you had trinity sitting in the middle of you and jamie, holding your hand and pointing things out to you throughout the ride.

on the bus ride back to the hotel, you were sat at the back with trinity laying across you and her own seat, asleep.

"oh trin's out," duane chuckled from his seat. the others turned around a looked at the sleeping girl draped over your legs.

"she had a big day," bailey cooed, pouting her lips.

"what should we do tonight? could we eat?" you asked the others, "I'm starving."

"we should order some food to the hotel," filip said, playing with his hair.

britain nodded, "yeah, I don't really wanna go out-" he said- "I'm so tired."

nods and words of agreement filled the bus. jamie, who was sat in front of you and trinity, turned around in his seat to look at you. "what do you want to eat tonight?" he raised his eyebrows.

"I could eat anything," you shook your head at him, exhaling through your nose with a laugh, "I didn't eat much before we left."

"you're so stupid," he said, his tone frustrated, "I don't understand why you don't just eat properly. you know your body needs food to survive, yeah?" jamie leant his head on the window of the bus.

"yes, I'm not stupid" you rolled your eyes, leaning back against your seat, "I just wasn't very hungry then, but I should've just eaten."

"I reckon we just put a film on in someone's room tonight," jamie closed his eyes as he spoke, feeling the road travelled on underneath him.

"you okay?" you asked, noticing the small crease between his eyebrows.

he cleared his throat, before sitting up slightly and opening his eyes. jamie looked tired, but this was the first time you were noticing it today. "yeah," he nodded, his gaze was faded, "just got a massive headache."

"have you taken anything for it?" you asked him, sitting back up in your seat. you took in his tired complexion and reddening eyes, like he had been rubbing them lots.

"nah," he sniffed, resting his head against the glass again, "I will when we get back,"

"do you want me to ask jon or someone if they have anything?" jamie noticed how your demeanour had changed, you were now concerned and on edge. it was cute.

"y/n," he smiled softly, closing his eyes again, "I'll be alright,"

jamie was quiet the rest of the ride back to the hotel. He was looking a little pale, you were convinced he was drifting in and out of sleep as you quietly chatted to bailey.

ordering dinner to the hotel was a process. passing around one phone, figuring out who was going to pay (and how everyone would pay that person back); it had been forty minutes in filip's hotel room before the order had even been placed.

jamie was slowly reengaging with the rest of the group, having taken some pain relief for his headache. you were keeping a close eye on him, now that trinity was preoccupied with bailey.

"did you want to go? we could go to your room and you could sleep until the food comes" you said quietly from your spot next to him. filip, britain and duane were busy singing some rap song together, serenading bailey and trin.

"we?" jamie asked, opening his eyes from his rested position. a little smirk was beginning to appear clearly on his face.

“i’d rather sit in silence with you than do anything with someone else.” you chuckled.

jamie was taken back by your statement, you saw the change in his gaze. he was surprised by your forwardness. you both had a very intricate relationship. he liked you, he couldn't help it. over the little time you had known each other, jamie couldn't help the butterflies that involuntarily swarm his stomach.

what you said to him had the butterflies flocking.

jamie couldn't say anything, he was left without words. instead, he was interrupted by britain shouting that the delivery driver had arrived with your dinner, ruining your plans.

you all ate dinner, some movie that filip picked playing in the background; none of you paying attention to it anyway. as the night began to wind down, trinity's mom came and brought her back to her hotel room, that's when you and jamie took off.

his hotel room was down the hall from yours. he popped his head around the door, seeing if his room was in a state that he wouldn't want you to see.. it was.

"wait here," he said, slipping inside and leaving you in the hallway. jamie rushed around the room as quickly as he could with his pounding head.

you lean against the door, pressing your forehead into the wood. “jamie,” you whine, “let me in!”

“one second!” he shouted back. you chuckled as you heard him shuffling around in his room. he was haphazardly throwing his clothes back into his suitcase and shoving it into the corner of the room. before he called out to you, he quickly grabbed his camera, switching it on to record

“okay!” jamie’s voice was heard on the camera as he yelled, “come in.”

you open the door, but stopped in your tracks and broke out into laughter when you saw the camera. the frame zoomed in on your face, capturing the way your face was growing hot.

"can I interview you?" he asked, a smile on his face. you felt your chest tighten with anxiety as your smile grew.

"yes," you nodded, "yes, you can."

taglist: @littlexscarletxwitch, @thexplosivegirl, @lagoonabluebabe, @rexorangecouny, @ilovejakesullysdick @rhiannonhippiegirl @leelumenaura @playboykenz @couragemydearheart @whos6claire @m-1234 @coconut-dreamz @graysonshaven @stvpidscvpid @ok-boke @cvsmic-love @sully-stick-together @caniuseurname @fandom-geek17 @carpecaelo

[denkies]

The BSD 5 Opening, Tetsu no Ori, is a love song from Atsushi to Akutagawa

Let's start at the beginning of the song, with the accompanying scenes.

Putting Atsushi and Akutagawa with those specific lyrics was probably not a silly mistake done by complete coincidence. But let's keep going!

These lyrics specifically pertain to Atsushi's feelings after Akutagawa's death. Both "places" in these lyrics refer to the afterlife-- somewhere only seen after death, and somewhere Atsushi doesn't want Akutagawa to go.

"A place you can't go" can also be foreshadowing that Akutagawa doesn't go to the afterlife. He becomes a vampire. On that note, Atsushi believes that Akutagawa can be woken up from his brainwashed state-- and actually begins to succeed in chapter 108. He doesn't believe Akutagawa to be in the afterlife, because he has faith that he's still there.

The anime opening ends with those lyrics, but the full song continues. I'll be talking about some specific parts, which pertain to the topic.

This one is pretty quickly explained, as Akutagawa and Atsushi quite literally symbolize Yin and Yang, even physically. The line about being unable to ignore the "bug in the iron cage" comes up later!

Past tense, expressing the sorrow that came after the heat of battle. "The loss of ecstacy" seems to reference the 2 battles that they won against Fukuchi, as the ecstacy of winning was taken from them.

"That we can only be slaves to something; knowing that you will lose." is referencing these rewritten battles again -- Fukuchi tells them that they won, but he went back in time (chapter 87). In the lyrics, Atsushi recognizes that they are slaves to Fukuchi's sword, that they can't win.

"Knowing that you will lose" might also reference Atsushi's thoughts on Akutagawa's sacrifice. Atsushi knows that the escape route was only for him; that Akutagawa's first and foremost priory was getting Atsushi out alive. Knowing that he couldn't have saved Akutagawa from Fukuchi, because Akutagawa didn't want to be saved. He was going to lose, in every scenario, to keep Atsushi safe.

And finally, this part. "You've already taken flight; you've become a butterfly," again, referencing Akutagawa's death. Funnily enough, I think this also ties into Akutagawa not actually being dead. Butterflies symbolize the soul, death, and rebirth. All of these are relevant to him in vampire form, so equating him to a butterfly isn't too far off. It's also very pretty and sweet.

The line about the iron cage comes up again, this time, Atsushi revealing himself to be the "bug in the iron cage." The entire sequence seems to be about Atsushi's grief, that he can't ignore and is trapped in like a cage.

His desire to be free is also tied to him wishing to be reunited with Akutagawa. "You've already taken flight / If I could fly now, outside the iron cage..." I think it conveys that Atsushi wants to escape this grief, but only if it means reuniting with Akutagawa once more.

Lastly, as my evidence, the song title "Tetsu no Ori" (鉄の檻) literally means "Iron Cage". The song itself is about Atsushi being trapped in his grief, and love, after Akutagawa's death.

I rest my case.