#it feels like an honor to hear the possibility of my stuff is being shared outside of tumblr tho 🥺

[crystallizsch]

Hi! I’m really sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you have an insta that has your twisted wonderland (especially Jamil) art! My friends a big fan of twst and Jamil and I was hoping to send them a few of your artworks without them having to go to a different site

hi hi!! you’re not a bother at all anon! 😳

okay so technicallyyyy i have an insta right here but i don’t post anything on there 🤧💔 sorry if this is disappointing news i stopped using insta 😭

BUT??? thank you so much for even considering sharing my stuff to your friend??? that honestly makes me happy 😳😳😳

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok this is very random but how do you think Ghost would deal w an s/o who is still a virgin at a very big girl age 🥴 maybe they’d be seeing each other for a while, and when things heat up and she confesses, how would he deal? Would he be honored and accept being her first or would he reject her altogether bc she is inexperienced?

(Because I’m in my 20s and safe to say on top of everything else in my life except this, I haven’t come across anyone with whom I’d like to be intimate with yet and though I try not to let it get to me, some part of me sometimes feels like a freak or like something is wrong with me)

I hope I did not cross any boundaries or make you uncomfortable by sharing this, if I did I apologize and please feel free to delete this ❤️🕊️

Ghost x FVirgin!Reader Word count: 2,9 k Tags/warnigs: Mild smut, light angst, fluff, comfort, praise & size kink Summary: Reader tells Ghost they’re a virgin while things are about to go down. 

A/N: Oh anon!! No boundaries crossed here at all! Your request (or at least I took it as such and got inspired to write a brief oneshot about it) was very sweet. This of course is my HC but Simon would only and only take pride in being your first. He would get a huge ego boost from this and feel absolutely privileged to hear he's worthy of such trust.  I think he would want to imprint himself in your head as the best man and the best sex partner you will ever have – he would do his all to eradicate even the very thought of wanting to try others after him. Again, an ego thing, but also a desperate wish to please his partner and make them feel safe. This man screams service top to me. I think Simon has a wild side – not mean, just wild, as in he might be into rough sex and certain types of kinky stuff every now and then but only if his partner is willing. He would be very gentle and considerate (passionate as hell though), knowing you're inexperienced, he would make you feel as safe as possible and wait until you were ready and willing to explore things further.  Also, I can't help but be moved by what you told me in this message. I understand where you're coming from with these "is there something wrong with me" thoughts, because gosh, I feel you! And speaking from experience… it's 110 % worth it to wait for the right person to come along! Sex can be awesome, mind-blowing, one of the best things – with the right partner. Not worth it with just whomever, imho. Stay safe and trust yourself! And I hope you like this short drabble I made for Ghost x Virgin!Reader ❤️❤️❤️ much love 😘

Simon Riley was a one of a kind man. 

He put every guy on every dating app to shame, and not just with his size. He was manly, in a word, even if you never knew you wanted such an overly masculine man. At least, not until you met him. 

Simon was not only sturdy and mature – he was armed with calm rage and dark humor. Just one look in his eyes told you he was not the life of the party. Actually, he was Death himself: one of those four horsemen that heralded the Apocalypse.

Perhaps unintelligibly, the same man was also extremely considerate. A true gentleman if there ever was one. He always placed you and your needs first. But underneath the calm, cynical surface you sensed fierce intensity: fire and smoke, something that screamed Danger, high voltage.

And you could not keep away. Quite the opposite, really. The combination of a wildfire and a tornado roaring upon this solid bedrock of a man was simply alluring.

Things had gone a little too far without you meaning them to. You were not a woman of one night stands, actually, you had never had a stand. But Simon changed that, too. Because now you were thinking about sleeping with him. 

After years and years of waiting for someone sensible to come along, you had begun to lose hope, especially when people seemed to fuck left and right while you wanted something real.

A bedrock. 

With that wildfire. Perhaps a tornado thrown in as well.

After weeks and weeks of flirting, the man asked you out, and after weeks and weeks of going out, you came to the conclusion that if someone deserved to be your first, it was Simon Riley. If there was any guy you wished would take you against a wall until you begged for mercy, it was him. At least in your fantasies, which were starting to get out of hand.

In real life, things were not that breezy.

Because what would he say if – no, when – you told him you were a virgin at this age? What if he would be bothered, what if things would get awkward between you two? 

What if he decided you were simply too much trouble than you were worth? 

It seemed like a miracle that the guy was still around, having been left blue-balled date after date. Either he was hellbent on conquering you, or then… Well, you didn't even dare to think about or's and then's and what if's. Especially when your own feelings were getting equally out of hand as those fantasies.

He probably had plenty of experience, and the thought certainly didn't make you feel any better. How would you compare, being not only inexperienced but a whole goddamn virgin? And it would probably hurt on top of everything. This man must be pretty damn big downstairs if 6 '4 feet and large hands were any indication.

Still, all fears flew out the window in record time every time he pulled you into a kiss. Your body molded into his already: the broad shoulders closed in around you, and it only felt thrilling. His warmth, his arms and scent enveloped you like the sweetest prison, and you held onto him as tightly as you could. Not because he wasn't clutching you with the same–if not greater–fervor, but because you wanted to make sure he was real.

And you realized what the allure of Simon Riley was. 

He felt safe.

In fact, he was safe. He represented safety in all its aspects. 

Who would've thought that death and wildfire could feel so good, so reliable?

You wondered if he thought this was some game; that you kept him waiting. The unwritten rule seemed to be that it was ok not to jump into bed on the first date. If anything, it was only a decent move. But what did the rules say about the second, third or fourth date? Not to talk about tenth? 

Things were starting to resemble some prudent high school romance. Well, perhaps not prudent, the way you two practically ground against each other while making out after every date. Without being vocal about it or pressuring you in any way, you could tell he wished for things to go further. Hell, every fiber in this man begged for more. He would soon burn your clothes off simply with that searing gaze alone. 

Watching the door close on that heated stare after at least 15 minutes of wanton, wicked kissing followed by clumsy Good night's and shy, apologetic smiles just wouldn't do anymore. The poor man was left breathless and puzzled in the cold night with nothing but a hard-on and the crumbs you gave him to keep him warm. 

Things were getting ridiculous, criminally so, and you felt pity for those pants trying to keep him in confinement. You felt pity for your own soaked underwear as you climbed to a lonely bed all hot, bothered, and wet.

Which was why this evening would end with you asking him to come inside. 

.  .  .

Lately, his hands have started to roam; they even cup your ass as he moans in your mouth – and hearing that raspy, low sound leave him forces the final decision. It's the final prophecy that tells you he is the one. You should’ve known it was only a matter of time with him.

The man hides his surprise well as you invite him in.

"Thought you'd never ask," he gives you a soft chuckle before stepping over the threshold to not only your apartment but also your life and privacy. 

You barely get out of your shoes before his shadow engulfs you and strong hands lift you in his lap like you weigh nothing at all. You instinctively reach for support by clasping your hands behind his neck. 

"You really know how to torture a man, don't you?" The brown in his eyes is nearly swallowed by warm darkness as he carries you to the bedroom. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and he gives a short laugh of gravel.

"Don't be. This has been fun." 

He sets you down next to the bed, and your heart is thumping so bad you fear he can hear it banging against your chest. 

"But it's about time I torture you, right?"

Oh God…

Things happen so fast that it’s hard to tell who undresses who, but somehow, you find yourself standing in your bedroom with nothing but knickers and a bra on while he's taking off his pants. The man has definitely waited for this to happen for god knows how long, and it only makes your stomach lurch.

He thinks you know what you're doing, your brain offers when it should know when it’s time to shut the hell up. You can see the generous bulge this man is packing, and while perhaps compelling to other women, to you, it mainly looks intimidating. Threatening, almost.

He doesn't take his boxers off, seeing you're just standing there like some statue, still in your underwear and almost shaking from thoughts running rampant. 

His form swallows you as he steps closer; wide hands slide up your arms, then draw you against him – against that demanding pulse that gets trapped between you two. Even through the black cloth, you can tell he's thick and big, just like you feared.

The man is blazing, and seems to have grown another foot in height as he towers over you with all that muscle. His shoulders are almost the size of your head, and you already know the hand that runs down your spine is experienced in crushing windpipes. It makes you breathe in shivers, and of course he notices something is wrong.

"Everything good?" He's eager and breathless, the erection pressing against you like a threat. He’s a man who has fashioned a weapon out of himself, so it shouldn't be a surprise that everything in him speaks violence.

"Yes," you try to assure him – a lousy lie only punctuated by the audible gulp that leaves your throat as you try to swallow your nerves back down.

"You afraid…?" 

"Just a little nervous," you tell him, a half confession.

"Mm. That makes two of us." 

He draws down into a kiss, the hands of a soldier and a killer nearly drawing you up from the ground as he pulls you close. You don't really buy his claim of being nervous too: you can feel how he throbs between you, heavy and impatient. 

Hesitantly, you reach to hug him as well, and you feel so small, so insignificant when wrapped around this… giant. The knowledge that you're about to be trapped under all this crushing weight leaves you both faint and needy. 

He’s a good kisser, but as he moves to devour your neck, you start to freeze from the middle.

"Alright… Come here."

He half carries, half lays you down on the bed, then crawls between your legs and changes his tactic a little. Gentle kisses are ghosted down your throat, and soon, he's at your breasts, soft as a whisper. But as he draws the fabric of your bra aside, your nipple is caught inside a hot, wet mouth, and the wildfire surges forth. There’s no way out from under him anytime soon, and you realize the colossal body is already spreading your thighs wide. 

The way he already looks so damn good there between your legs: big, the epitome of raw, masculine power… It's almost sinful that a man like him is here with a virgin. It's a whole new hell how he's kissing you gently as fuck while blazing like a bonfire about to engulf and devour you. You want to wrap your legs around his middle, attach yourself to him in any way you can, but your thighs are weak pudding. 

You feel both lost and found with him. In him.

He sucks and kisses your breasts like they're the only thing he's here for – and it feels good, heavenly, to be honest. But then he starts to travel down.

Shit… You need to tell him – and soon, or else there will be no time to say anything before the last of the shielding fabric is gone.

"Simon…?"

"Mm-hm?" 

He doesn't even stop with the kissing, merely hums on your skin as his mouth reaches your stomach.

"You're my first," you finally force the truth into the night; a soft and desperate fact. It's only the faintest breath, but he halts abruptly like he has been stabbed between the ribs.

Great… 

Here comes the awkward.

He rises. Softly, slowly, like a shadow, just a second away from getting to what's between your legs.

"Is that so?"

His voice is hoarse and dark from arousal. The whole man is intoxicating, and your heart is hammering in your chest, both from hunger and dread.

"Yes…?" 

A broad hand comes to rest on the dip of your waist; gently, like you're some frightened animal about to dart off from under his touch. 

"Love… Are you sure you want to do this?"

Are you? You almost ask, then bite your lip.

He just called you love, something he has never done before. You can see your breasts rising with the breaths you try to calm down with sheer willpower. 

He lets out a small sigh, then crawls beside you and takes you in his arms. The bed sags and wails under his weight before your body is pulled into a delicious bear hug.

"Sweetheart."

His voice is so smooth, so different from the intense, rough smoke that has followed you up until this point that you feel vehement tears burn your eyes. First love, and now, sweetheart…

"There's no need to rush things," he says while keeping you close. Ever the gentleman, but you fear that you've ruined everything.

"We haven't exactly been rushing," you mutter somewhere in the plates of his chest. You both feel and hear how another sigh travels up his throat and is breathed into the crown of your head.

"Now… listen to me, ok? I've wanted you ever since we met. Can't deny it. But the last thing I want is to force you to do something you don’t wanna do."

You squeeze your eyes shut from what he says. Ever since you met… You can remember the lingering gazes, the way his eyes lit up with something hopeful and pure, how it drove away the exhaustion that seemed to have made a home in this big, brooding man. You remember how he stole a few stares up and down your body, too; remember the hunger he never even tried to conceal – not until now.

He is the most enthralling being you have ever seen, a mystery and a force of nature, an indomitable man, and to say that you haven't thought about him that way ever since too would be a lie.

"But I want it," you look up at him slowly, feeling much safer now that he's holding you like this.

I want you.

You realize you're pouting when the warm look in his eyes gains a playful glint as he laughs softly.

"You want it?"

"Yes."

That little twinkle turns into a downright gleam as he looks at you like you're the most adorable thing he has ever seen.

“You want it with me?”

“Yes.”

"How much do you want it?" The charred voice is so soft now: it washes over you in generous waves. His hands keep you in safe custody – and you're the most willing prisoner there ever has been.

"Pretty badly?" You breathe into the air between you and see the corner of his mouth tug.

"Well, in that case…" His hand sweeps down your back and comes to reside on the swell of your hip. "I'm glad I'm here to help."

Pale eyelashes drop to your lips just before he kisses you again. You arch in his arms, like a flower leaning towards sunlight; your mouth, your whole being unfurls under his leadership. He rolls partly on top of you, then moves to kiss you all over as you lie on your back: he kisses your chin and neck, your collarbones and the hollow little crevice between them. The hand on your hip brushes down your thigh, then back up, up, until his fingers meet the folds already soaked through the fabric of your underwear. 

His touch is soft, but gains more weight as he sweeps slowly up, then brushes a thumb over the exact location of your clit.

"Oh–" 

He knows what he's found, even without the evidence of your voiceless shake of a breath. He brushes another stroke over it, and it doesn't matter that you still have your undies on – you can feel his weight, the gentle pressure he applies as he draws a circle to usher another soft moan out of you.

"You like that?"

"Mhm," is the only thing you are able to answer.

"That's it…" he cheers you on with calm assurance. "Gonna make you feel good. And that's a promise."

You catch a hint of ego in that promise, but there's something else, too. A fervent devotion, a bottomless need to please you no matter what. The right man, definitely: not someone who is only after their own satisfaction. You don't exactly need the answer anymore, but you ask the final, burning question nonetheless.

"Simon?"

"Speak your mind, love."

"Are you disappointed…?"

He stops again, a breath away from you. 

"Disappointed?" He sounds quite shocked, almost appalled. "...Disa–"

He huffs, then reaches to cup your face. You raise your eyes to his and see that he's…ardent, and very, very serious.

"Love, I'm honored."

You can only blink at the solemn vow, and he slowly shakes his head.

"Silly little thing…" 

It's something he muses almost to himself before he drags his fingers over your sternum and down your stomach, reverently, like you're a piece of precious porcelain. But the heat in his eyes is back, and your fingers curl to grasp a fistful of sheet as his hand disappears underneath the cloth, when he finally touches you with nothing in between.

You suppose it's his middle finger that sweeps over your clit this time, then slips between your folds without effort. It coaxes your thighs open to give him better access, and access he has: he curls the finger until it almost dips inside. Your lips part with a quiet sigh as your chin climbs toward the ceiling.

"Look at that… All wet and sweet for me already."

The way you expose your neck is like an invitation: he buries his face in your neck, tries to drown in the scent and feel of you while gliding across the wetness down below. He spreads moisture on the tight bud, and you jerk a little from how sensitive it is – he huffs a smile in your ear. It makes you release the sheet and reach out to grasp him by the neck, to make him stay precisely where he is, close like this, so close…

"Do ya even know how bloody sweet you are?"

The last of your wits make a vanishing act as he breathes more praise on your skin. You're languid in his arms, feeling both weightless and heavy, like you're sinking into the mattress, and then his hand moves lower; one thick finger is plunged slowly inside. 

Oh God oh God–

You feel him, all of him, filling and spreading you. And it's not enough… not nearly enough.

"We'll take it nice and slow, alright?" He whispers in your ear, and you tighten around him like on command. "Got all night to make a mess of you. That sound good?"

You can't help it: your lips draw into a smile when thinking about all the things he will do to you, all the sweet things you've always waited to happen. 

"Yes."

[luffyvace]

Hello first of all- Omg my new fav author I LOVE UR WRITING SM LIKE ???? APBDISBRQKOZ

I found your blog form the author!Reader the anon who ask haz a creative mind I loved the 2 post sm I already got addicted to it I hope u Dont mind me requesting sm form it

Imagine Kusuo getting a notification (he seems like the one has his phone on dnd but has his notification open for his s/o in all media) of her post sm in one of there public social platform saying "I'm turning into my emo phase if this writer block doesn't move on form me " and when checking her private acc (the it's only access for him and her older friend) she is all memes about her writer block and her saying "if I stop writing I give all my books and series to you my friend" just her and overreacting to her block writer

Hiii!! THANK YOU CUTIE!! It always makes me so happy to hear I can share my hobbies with others <3 ahhh I see! Of course I don’t mind dear :)

ohh so if I’m getting this right it’s Saiki finding readers second blog (in which she mostly posts unserious stuff about her writers block) I believe I get what ya mean :}

*･..°•*:.｡:3･.｡.:*･..*°.･

Lol if feel like almost every writer has they’re side blogs or blog where they not a writer they just read other’s stuff

and to me this blog seems like a kinda funny vent blog where reader can just complain about her writers block whenever she has it

LOL imagine going inactive on that acc for weeks and saiki’s wondering if you forgot about it or forgot the password but you just simply have had a lot of motivation lately

then all the sudden you come back and your rebloging all types of relatable author memes and making posts about how ‘your going emo because you have writers block’

honestly it’s kinda ironic to him

he likes your posts on both accounts to support even when your do have writers block

cuz who’s likes a guy who ups and leaves when you don’t have motivation?

the first time you threatened to give your books away he knew you were joking but at the same time he was like ‘wait don’t give all your books away they can’t write it as well as you can 😀’

’kusuo I’m joking’

🧍

‘me too I knew that’

(“Thank goodness..her books were the only thing keeping me sane from those nuisances..”)

- In Saiki’s head

he doesn’t get all the writer memes bc he’s not an author, obviously he’s not stupid so he does find some funny

i feel he doesn’t post on social media but if a post of yours does particularly good he’ll repost it

i think I touched up on him being supportive before but yeah I’m gonna say it it again bc it truly is an honorable mention

‘(Name/pen name) has posted!’

- notification

👆💥📲

- Saiki

the emoji combo was terrible but basically that’s him about to break his screen from how hard he clicked

he’s always the first one on your posts and interacts every way possible

except comments..

which sucks cuz it boosts it a lot but he just doesn’t interact online 😭

if it’s a social media where you can see who liked, aiura and torisuka always tease Saiki for being the first like every time

“Dang your a real simp huh? Your the first like on her every post!”

- Aiura

”MAN! You don’t miss a beat do ya Saiki? I can never beat you to it 😭”

- Toritsuka

“wow..you beat me once again. The second the notification pops up you’ve already liked, reblogged and shared before I can even click on it. That’s impressive I must say, but it’s also quite annoying because I would like to be the first one to support (name) one day. In fact you do everything first! You get the books before they publish! You like all her posts first! Satire or not too!- yadda yadda yadda..”

- Akechi

“you don’t even respond to me that fast! Sometimes you leave me on read or delivered for 2 days before you answer me”

- Kaido

Saiki also sees that your friend likes your second acc too

which he would figure since you two are close

ehehe..a bit short dearest but I hope it brings you joy regardless~ 😅💞

I have much to get out..need to be more active..

[stardustprompts]

 the deep - nick cutter sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw ;  death , horror , language , mental health , blood mention

‘you only live once, (name).’

‘hope. that’s the hardest part. maintaining hope after what happens, happens.’

‘if you love someone, you love them in all their states, don’t you? sickness and health.’

‘it didn’t seem real.’

‘hey. you shouldn’t look at it for too long. it’s got a strange way about it.’

‘i’m okay. i’m fine, damn it. i’m sorry.’

‘there shouldn’t be a penalty in this house for being scared.’

‘i’ve got good and bad news. what do you want to hear first?’

‘i’m sorry, I’m rambling.’

‘we’re fine and we’re going to be fine.’

‘I trust you.’

‘get behind me where it’s safe.’

‘you’re bleeding.’

‘I’ve never seen anything like it. I never want to again.’

‘you don’t know what you need anymore.’

‘you ever consider that—- that you might be in over your head?’

‘I believe in this possibility, and I will endeavor to make it so.’

‘you shouldn’t even be here.’

‘I take it you’re afraid?’

‘don’t look.’

‘this is madness. utter madness.’

‘it only looks like madness. you don’t know what you’re seeing.’

‘it must be really hard on you. it must really sting, (name). acting as their errand boy.’

‘you were never a good liar. you’re too earnest.’

‘I came because I wanted to. no—- I came because I had to. there was no choice.’

‘everything’s gone to hell.’

‘don’t think I blame you, (name). understand this: I pity you.’

‘you want the truth? I didn’t come here for you.’

‘you’re just a shitty, careless person whose last name I happen to share.’

‘right now I’m getting a seriously fucked - up vibe here, okay?’

‘you’re a better liar than you used to be. i’ll give you that.’

‘it’s not dangerous. not if you respect it.’

‘it’s unwise to let your emotions get out of hand.’

‘it’s scary at first … but you get used to it. people do it all the time. they exist under perpetual threat.’

‘there’s nothing you could have done. surely you understand that.’

‘guilt carves you up, right? things happen sometimes and there’s no way to fix it— in the moment, or any time after.’

‘i’d do the honorable thing and sleep on the floor. i’m real gallant that way.’

‘I say a lot of stuff I don’t mean.’

‘that’s what pure evil looks like. a chaos whose variables are endless—- so huge even the universe can’t contain them. chaos incarnate.’

‘it gets inside you, understand? and once it’s there, you’re not yourself anymore.’

‘it has a powerful pull. very, uh, seductive.’

‘do you really think they’re going to let us go?’

‘why are you lying to me?’

‘do you have any idea how stupid you sound?’

‘what if you’re wrong? just this once?’

‘look at me. for christ’s sake, (name)—- look!’

‘don’t look at it. I know it’s hard—- it wants you to look.’

‘I know this must be a lot to take in.’

‘I can feel myself slipping. my mind coming undone little by little.’

‘that may be the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.’

‘it’s nothing to be afraid of—- cautious, yes, but fear is a wasted emotion.’

‘I don’t want to see. please don’t show me.’

‘please, (name). i’ve never asked you for anything. just this once.’

‘the game is only just beginning.’

‘I just want to go home.’

‘you deserve to be down here. alone.’

[campgender]

“like instead i wanna ask why is the idea of sex that isn’t (physically) “reciprocal” morally reprehensible to you?”

YESSSS THANK YOU!

I’m a cishet pillow prince (due to trauma) and I’m constantly being vilified. I’ve been called an entitled sexist, a frat boy, and DJ Khaled. Reading your post felt healing.

(referencing this post - link)

hi i love you & i truly hope you know how grateful i am for you taking the time to share this with me. i’m sure there’s plenty of areas where i could do better, but for posts about stoneness i’m intending to be reblogged outside of my immediate circle, i’m always trying to keep in mind the folks at the margins of stone geography —

like, i guess i’m trying to express how deeply this message makes me feel like i’m ‘doing something right,’ because for years i’ve been returning to the figure of the cishet pillow prince rhetorically, trying to make space for him beside me at this table (to honor how we were always already side by side) assuming i’d never know whether i’d actually managed to do so.

so like. i’m trying to be super careful about how i word this bc i’m not trying to use your identity & experiences as some sort of “gotcha!” vindication for my own spite. but i’ve seen a lot of stuff lately about like, “it’s so sad that people feel like they have to make all these disclaimers before they post now about ‘oh i’m not talking about people in xyz situation’ people should know not to take it personally when something’s not about them,” but for me trying to be inclusive of / honor as many experiences as possible is an act of love & a politic & a spiritual practice.

i’m so sorry people are so hostile towards your boundaries. your sex doesn’t have to be “reciprocal” to be respectful — the issue with DJ Khaled’s comments isn’t that he lives receiving & not giving oral but that he hates women. & while all of our sex exists in a world that hates women, we can’t respond to that by replacing one one-size-must-fit-all sexual mandate with another.

i’d love to hear more of your thoughts on / experiences with stoneness (speaking broadly; totally okay if that’s not a word you identify with) if you ever feel like sharing! wishing you all the best truly <33

[huntunderironskies]

I know this isn't what anyone wanted when it comes to WIPs given what I'm known for but as you might know I've been trying my hand at translating and I still don't feel like I'm good enough to share my stuff outside of friend groups but I do like showing that I massively overthink things. I think I've said a few times there's something of an expectation of literal translations in order to "preserve the spirit" of the source and that's part of the reason I'm paranoid, the other issue is that honestly my Japanese is not that good and I pretty frequently run into words I don't know which is why I work with about three different dictionaries open at any given time. Thankfully for all of its quirks, JP pronunciation is very consistent compared to every other language I've learned so as long as you can pick out each phoneme you'll know exactly what to look for.

Anyway. Here's something I've been working on and I'm hoping I can have in a presentable state before the upcoming plot arcs they're gearing up for. Lots of rambling so I'm putting it below the cut.

Context: this is the music project V-Kei Sentai Executioner. The characters in this specific drama track are a group of phantom thieves who turn into a magical superhero visual kei band and had their superpowers granted to them by a demon who they are also forced to live with because he won't leave them alone. They have to use their powers to free the world from time loop causing 1999 to repeat infinitely that's slowly undoing the fabric of reality and will eventually end the world. This only kind of makes sense in context. They have just experienced their first (as far as they're aware) iteration of the time loop.

Yes, I know, I forgot to capitalize some letters in there, I will fix it, I just keep editing other things instead--

So this is admittedly a bit of a personal flourish, but I'll try to walk through the logic of why and how I veer off of totally literal translations.

Exactly what Astaroth says here with a very literal translation is "Yo, kosodoro-domo! Akemashite omedetou da na!" (lit."Yo, thieves [mildly derogatory suffix i can't translate into english]! Happy new year!") And Kiyoshiro responds "Dare ga kosodoro?" (lit. "Who are [these] thieves?")

For further context: kosodoro is a somewhat demeaning term for a thief, by my understanding, several of the dictionaries I looked at translated it specifically as "petty thief." You're more likely to hear dorobou used, at least in all the media I've watched. However, the Asta boys consistently call themselves kaitou-dan, or a phantom thief organization, and all of them seem to take a lot of pride in that. Phantom thieves have entered the not-weeb public consciousness a lot more due to Persona 5 but if you need a refresher, phantom thieves are specifically heroic thieves who operate under a code of honor. It's a pretty different connotation.

Anyway, yeah, I could have just done a literal translation but in my own head there was a chance to try and get everyones' personalities across a little better in English. "Phantom thief" might be understood by weebs but not necessarily a general audience. Now, admittedly, the English-speaking audience that isn't a weeb for this sort of music project is probably nonexistent to the point I haven't doubled back and changed any uses of "phantom thief" in other parts of the translation (and probably won't at this point) but I still wanted to go a little bit off script to try and get my point across. I could've had Kiyoshiro correct him that they're phantom thieves and that probably could've worked but I didn't like that pass. There's a couple reasons, I didn't like the flow of it being one. I also had used the word thief/thieves a lot and the thing about English is that word choice and avoiding repetition matters a lot when you're writing.

Here's what I went with instead and my personal read on the character dynamics. Astaroth is trying to be as insulting as possible. Meanwhile Kiyoshiro isn't necessarily mad that he's being called a criminal, that's objectively true. But he's a criminal who's performing a very valuable function to society and he's also very good at doing it, thank you very much.

I feel like Asta is the one group where the red sentai member isn't the sole moral center of the group, which is also why I'd call them the most unambiguously heroic. Even if he is a utilitarian, Kiyoshiro seems to have a pretty well-thought-out philosophical outlook on art and aesthetics-- he was completely psyched to be stealing from an art hoarder because by his reckoning, depriving everyone else of the joy of looking at sublimely beautiful art is evil. He is the government-mandated kuudere of the series so the first time you get an indication of just how excited he is comes from him aggressively infodumping about the paintings they're stealing and why they should be shared with the world instead of being hidden away in a private collection but it's also the most we see him talk at one time in the entire drama track. He really, really cares about what they're doing.

I still don't know if italicizing the "useless" part is getting my vision 100% across and I might change it in pass #23523 but this feels like it gets the point of their characters across really well while still retaining the meaning of the dialogue. Spirit but not the letter, I guess.

Also the highlighted bit in Shiyuki's dialogue is one of the things I do in my drafts. There's...a lot of them, especially in his lines because it's more slang-y and I tend to leave the original JP in since they end up getting edited the most. In this case the actual line in JP is "akeohayon~" which is smashing together both "akeome" (very casual way of saying "Happy New Year" and "ohayo." I tend to put notes for basically any nonstandard

...oh, this isn't even getting into the other issue which is that the humor in their dialogue is very heavily inspired by manzai which does not track over into English well, and there are several jokes completely contingent on Momiji lying about having a Kansai accent while two of his other brothers do genuinely have one so I did the thing everyone hates and had to do a semi-phonetic Southern accent (I tried to lean in more on regionalisms, speech patterns, and slang instead of spelling it inasmuch as I could.) Yes, I know, the more recent argument is you should use a New Yorker accent instead of a Deep South one since it's culturally closer to Osaka but I'm going to have a significantly easier time writing a Southern accent since, you know, I live here and I hear it all the time.

You see why I don't talk about my process or translating at all much, since this is the kind of thing I get mired down in.

[lampmanliveblogs]

…sigh. Alright, what is this ship called? Veesha? Vasha? Mee? Mashee?

(trying to get a screenshot where Masha’s hand didn’t look super awkward in the foreground never needed to be this difficult)

And hey, just saying, I get the feeling that Masha, if anything, would be even more interested in you if they knew you were a shapeshifting snake girl from another dimension Vee. Just saying.

Masha figures out that the symbols is supposed to be a rebus with images substituting words. The thing I thought was a soundwave in front of the ear was an H, spelling out ”hear” (or possibly ”here”).

Based on this revelation, the witchlings (as soon as Masha conveniently leaves the frame and thus can’t hear what they’re talking about) figure out that the bottom three symbols spell out ”Titan’s blood.” Which is what I guessed this map was leading them to all along, so that’s not a huge revelation for me.

But let’s go back to the top half of the rebus. Eye Hear. Which can spell out a few things. I hear. I here. Eye here.

Looking at the map again, I notice that the red line seems to go from the Eye symbol to the X that marks the spot, which makes me suspect that might have something to do with things. Maybe there’s some eye symbol they need to look for where the titan’s blood is hidden. The portal door has an eye on it, so saying ”Eye here” and then marking the spot makes sense… kinda. I dunno, maybe it’s only in my head.

Otherwise I’m not sure what it’s supposed to mean yet. I hear… hear what?

You know I gotta screenshot some cute stuff.

Let’s see… we’ve got the kids watching a movie and… I think that might be a reference to Hocus Pocus?  No wonder Willow and Amity both aren’t looking too impressed. Whatever you do, no one read these girls Roald Dahl’s The Witches.

It also looks like Luz honored Eda’s wishes and went on a beach episode together with Amity. It’s must’ve been an experience, swimming in a non-boiling sea for the first time.

We also have the river rapids, with Luz looking ecstatic, Amity, Vee & Gus being in various stages of panic, and Hunter stoically to the side. Can’t tell if he’s nervous but doesn’t want to show it, or if he’s just kinda unimpressed. 

I am confident in saying he’s definitely panicking as he’s being attacked by a swarm of bees, as would most people. What did you even do to piss them off, Hunter? Oh, and it’s a nice detail that the flowers Willow is tending to in the picture is the same kind as she has taped in the photo album.

I see my snake daughter thriving and I’m loving it.

I feel like the fireflies might be a call-back to the lightning bugs Luz used to charge her phone back during season two.

I’m gonna pretend that the leaf taped in the album is the same leaf that Vee used to tickle Willow’s nose in the picture, even though it clearly isn’t.

Amity continues to be this episodes punching bag as we see her struggling to make perfect circles during glyph training and getting flustered when Willow photographed her and Luz sharing a milkshake.

Nice bit of continuity: that vase Gus is juggling with is the same vase we saw Camila use in Reaching Out. An even nicer bit of continuity is that there’s a different flower in the vase than the one Camila put there in Reaching Out. Since that was a few months ago and most flowers don’t last that long in vases. Unless they’re lego flowers, like all the ones I have.

[spheciform]

thoughts on Dedf1sh + Paul Sashimori siblings theory/hc? im a personal fan but id love to hear your thoughts :3

Hmmmm rotates it around in my mind... it's something that is definitely plausible and definitely has been done in really good and interesting ways (dedzone especially was what really sold me on it as something that can be really interesting to explore past the basic 'what if these two knew eachother'), it just never really captured me? Until this ask and I started thinking about the shrimplications. I think why it never really captured me until this point is just because of how little we know about Paul? Who is this little guy, past being just a baby savant u know? There's at least a little bit of characterization for most splatbands guys, but Paul is just... oddly devoid of it. Like there's more discussion about the events that surround him (mixing human vocals, sashimori possibly being pearls old band, the fact that he's a 10 year old ultratalented kid, him being friends with marina) than there is about Who He Is as a character? Though I guess that does leave more room for wildly making things up!!! Which. With the info from side order has some really neat shrimplications in its favor:

-Acht and Marina "going way back", and Paul and Marina being friends. This is possibly the coolest thing this has in its favor. The siblings hc makes this sudden random bit of information have a lot more weight to it, like oh yeah my old buddy's little brother. They went missing but at least their little brother is doing ok and being looked after... (rips the walls apart)(though this does imply that both acht and paul were octarian octolings, which is neat, but also doesn't really help the common assumption that all octolings must inherently be octarian, given the only two confirmed non octarian octolings we've seen so far are shiver and warabi. Yoko and the gold bazookas mysterious blue ringed octopus girl... who are you....)(I don't even know if it's a common distinction made by fans I have just been going fuck it we ball like "octarian" is the more wide term for those who were ruled by DJ Octavio (including both tentacle guys and octolings) which makes sense why there are octolings & octopus guys who have been on the surface and in society absolutely fine for seemingly generations when u look a shiver's family, and is a slightly more plausible reason why people are so instantly normal about octolings bc like. They've been here. They just don't know they're octarian. Etc. Does this make any sense??? Maybe. Is it nitpicking??? Absolutely. Is it a huge diversion from the topic at hand?? Absolutely yeah I'll get back on topic)

-If sanitization seemingly had no effect on Acht, and they canonically made it to the surface(hotlantis window sign)... have they seen Paul yet? Have they met? If not... why?

Now for the more HeadCanon Realm of things:

-It's been said that Acht was really... intense and anxious over their music pre-sanitization. The fact that Paul is also very talented has some neat possibilities in exploring how that sort of perfectionism could be shared between them. Like did Paul pick it up because he idolized them? Did they ever hear what he was doing? How did that make them feel, honored or oddly threatened by his skill? This shit is soooooo (spins it around in my mind.) this is the good shit to me. Strained sibling relationships my beloved. This is the good shit that really interests me abt this hc, rather than the inherent tragedy of losing Acht. This is the stuff I think I would want to dig into if I ever wanted to explore this personally. If we take it that they never met back up after Acht reached the surface... boy. Whether on purpose or by circumstance it has a lot of potential to breed some crazy characterization moments. Dies a million times.

Even further into realm of headcanon, specific to my take on dedfish and the shit I've been cooking in relation to her:

-the shrimplications are making me crazy in the brain in relation to what I have already written and have planned around dedfish. Reoccurring awesomegirl delta summers and her strained relationship with her 14-15 year old sibling. Eternally broken unable to enter society lost in the sauce (blood) fringe desert dweller dedfish and her complete loss of her relationship with their now 15 year old brother. You see it. You see it and you explode with me. Parallels. Implications. Etc. There isn't really a way to capitalize on it given the fact that I have kept it so that dedfish was completely transformed by and lost their complete previous personality to the double goopening, and the fact that they're completely isolated, meaning there wouldn't really be a way for them to ever know about or interact w paul without outside interference... but you see it. The cooking. The ideas. The everything.

Um tldr: it's good 👍 don't know if it's something I'll ever fully explore and it's not like a hill I'll absolutely die on but I'm a fan of when people do it and do something really cool w it because it has the potential to be really cool!!

[firstumcschenectady]

“Yearning for Joy” based on Micah 6:6-8 and Luke 1:67-80

I was in a “non-violent communication” workshop one time, which is a place that teaches about human emotions and how to have them without judging yourself for them. So, we're in this workshop and someone takes the MOST obvious of teaching moments, something that would almost make you groan except that in this case, I didn't KNOW the thing she was teaching so I was grateful that she made it so obvious.

We'd just come back from lunch and we were asked how we were doing, with the request that we respond with how we were feeling. It was practice with using feeling words. The co-teacher responded, “I'm feeling torn. I'm excited to be teaching this group, and at the same time I'm concerned about the two students who aren't back yet.” There I was, in my 30s, and I'd just learned that it was VALID to hold MORE THAN ONE EMOTION at the same time. Which was helpful, because I'd done that plenty, but somehow I hadn't known it was OK.

(This is why I often share really simple stuff about emotions with the rest of you – it was late in life learning for me and its been really significant. I dearly hope most of you already knew this, but when I look around at our society, I'm not sure who would have taught you.)

So I learned that when I take my feelings seriously, both on their own, and as flags pointing me to things I care about and value, I am allowed to feel more than one emotion – even seemingly contradictory ones. This knowledge has been very helpful for me, particularly in moments in my life when my life and the world as a whole were doing really differently. Like when Trump was elected and there was fear of what his presidency would look like – and I was newly in love and wedding planning at the same time. Or when there was a global pandemic and the country was locked down and everything was hard and confusing and – oh – I finally got to become a parent.

Which is all a long introduction to say: this is Joy Sunday, and heavens that can be confusing in the midst of sadness, anger, fear, and exhaustion. There seem to be plenty of reasons to skip joy – grief and heartache, violence and injustice for example.

And yet, none of that negates joy. In fact, oddly enough, making space for any emotion can make space for others too. It is possible to be deeply sad and deeply joyful at the same time. They don't cancel each other out, sometimes they even harmonize.

Micah 6:6-8 is one of my favorite texts, and I know that's true for many of you. “What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” We try, really hard, to live this. But sometimes, I can get off kilter. I can get so focused on trying to do justice, that I forget to notice I'm also supposed to love and savor kindness. I also can forget that God is God and I'm not, and the responsibility for the whole world is NOT on my shoulders.

In recent months I've been hearing nudges from God to make more space for joy. It has been interesting to notice my own resistance to it. There are biases in me that worry about making space for joy. They tell me that I was born with rose colored glasses, and being an adult member of society requires me to see the injustices of the world clearly. They tell me that joy is trite, and not very serious, and I should be serious. They remind me of the things that break my heart, and suggest I worry more about those and less about trivial stuff. Basically, there is this whole narrative within me that says I'm supposed to be a mature, responsible human, and that means I should just attend to the hard stuff of life.

And that's all really interesting because I KNOW BETTER. I believe that God wants all people to be well, to survive and thrive, to experience joy and wonder. I don't think that anyone is excluded from that, so I believe we are honoring creation and connecting with the Divine when we experience joy.

I know that joy is resistance, that there are parts of our society that try to create anxiety, and sadness for personal gain, and it is useful have joy to repel that. I also know that joy creates internal resistance, making it possible to do the hard things when they come because they aren't the only thing.

I know a God who calls us to Sabbath- away from consumption and productively and into connection- and I know connection to be a great source of joy. That is, I believe God sets aside time for just joy so that we don't get confused into thinking life is just about work and hardship.

I also have the honor of being with people at the end of their life, and being with loved ones after a person has died. I know which memories are savored, which things are regretted, and how meaning is made of a life – and it all ends up calling us towards joy.

Finally, and this one may seem backwards – when we mourn unfair and early deaths, a lot of what we grief is the lack of space for the person to continue to have joy in their lives. That would seem to tell us that those who love us want us to life and find joy and savor it! JUST LIKE GOD DOES.

I know all that, I can expound on it for a lot longer than this, and I still find it hard to let myself do it. Some people are better at this than others, and maybe some roles in life hold emotions differently than other roles. I don't know. I kind of hope this is one of those sermons that doesn't resonate easily.

Some of the ones who are wise about God suggest that goodness, wonder, and joy lie at the heart of all things, and if you can just see them at the right angle, everything positively sparkles with joy. Other wise ones about God say that it is a mark of true faith to have deep joy.

Which is all to say, if there is some resistance to joy in you – be it your own struggles, or seemingly conflicting emotions, or some narratives that tell you that joy isn't right for you – I invite you to push back. God wants joy for you, and requests that you stop squelching it. Joy is for everyone, that's actually the thing we're doing. We're working with God to build the kin-dom of God, and one of the ways we'll know when we get there will be the abundance of joy. And one of the ways we get there is to stop getting in the way of joy!

So, a final story. When I was in college, I had a fairly significant fight with a friend because I'd shared that cookie cutters brought me joy and he maintained that was simply ridiculous. I argued I had a right to feel how I felt, he maintained that … well, basically it seems he said all the stuff I internalized as a narrative about what it means to be a mature adult. Hmmm, I thought I won that fight!! Anyway, there are sugar cookies available with coffee hour today, cut with cookie cutters and decorated with too many sprinkles, and I hope they bring you joy – you deserve it. Thanks be to God for that, amen.

Rev. Sara E. Baron  First United Methodist Church of Schenectady  603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305  Pronouns: she/her/hers  http://fumcschenectady.org/  https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

December 17, 2023

[katerinaaqu]

Gosh dude your comment is so amazing! It so made my night even further after having yet another conversation with you! Oh gosh thank you so much! 💖 and man yeah I imagined Odysseus having the almost literal Casus Belli by his side after 10 long years plus that traumatizing night of the sacking of Troy must have done a lot in his soul making him feel boiling inside. Gosh thank you! I wanted it to be a mutual conversation not just Helen calling him out or him calling her out but a mutual conversation in which they share their frustration.

Man I imagined that Helen would feel indeed starved for some kindness after that experience so feeling Odysseus so cold with her would make her feel like pointing out he is cruel to her. To which of course he retaliated as to what she expected him to be like or something if that makes sense.

Yup Telemachus was just born when he left for Troy so at the moment they speak Telemachus is already 10 years old! Just the numbers are crazy right?! And yeah somehow they do know that neither wanted any of this to happen and somehow their frustration needs to be spoken. And yeah I would imagine the title Sacker of Cities would burn him like hell fire now after that massacre!

Yup hehehe technically Odysseus meets Penelope when he goes to become a suitor to Helen. Which is what in a way leads to Trojan war. Odysseus made a deal with Tyndareus that he would help him avoid a scandal if a king was offended and in return he would speak a good word to his brother Icarius so Odysseus could become a suitor to Penelope and then Odysseus came up with the oath of Tyndareus which basically was what Menelaus used to call them all to battle. Yup hehehe Penelope was a spartan princess.

Oh my thank you! 🫂 oh gosh it would be too much to explain right?! (My some of that is explored to my fic "Guilt" however I do entertain all possibilities and man it surely is so hard!)

Gosh thank you so much! 💓 I am always ecstatic when people notice the tiny details and the discreet moves that I try to bring up! I am so honored it drew your attention! Oh my they are alike to that aren't they? Just for different reasons! Sheesh thank you! I loved the mutual respect and the matching wits between Helen and Odysseus so exploring their interaction was a great pleasure! And I really thank you for liking the pace!

If I mind it?! Dude I live for it!

Yup that was the concept @prompted-wordsmith used for the fic to which I replied with with this one. Basically Odysseus was holding the mouths of others who nearly responded to the calls of Helen. And that moment is indeed of massive inspiration to this interaction as well given that Odysseus could have been played a cruel game as well hearing Penelope for the first time after 10 years and holy moly it was a fake one. Well Menelaus wouldn't have a reason to lie about it given that his wife was proven to be cunning as well. It would make more sense for Menelaus to lie if Helen wasn't back at being his equal as his rightful wife. In this Helen sits to the same table as him and all so I am not sure if Menelaus would have any reason to lie with saying "I nearly broke my cover because of my wife"

Yup basically what made me so happy that Helen and Odysseus are basically matching each other in wits. Helen saw right through the cover of Odysseus and she chose not to sound the alarm because she was having a change of heart. It was the moment when Odysseus with Diomedes disguised themselves to scan the city and according to a prophecy they stole the palladium of Athena. And yup I absolutely had that scene in mind when I wrote this hehehe

That is a very good question. Well according to Odyssey yes she was tricked by Aphrodite. Could it be that Helen was lying and was trying to justify herself? Or even as she says it "Aphrodite made me fall for him" or "The goddess of love made me fall for him" in other words symbolically "I fell in love with him" 😉 Homer is a master upon writing stuff that can be interpreted in many ways and I think this one is one of them. I agree that from a writer's perspective her being young and foolish and somehow failing for Paris, abandoning her husband and children for him and regretting it the next moment would be a delicious case for a writer or indeed Aphrodite clouded her judgement (which again out of symbolic value can be translated as her falling in love). In this story I use the terms Helen herself used in the Odyssey but writer-wise I do not see the two as mutually exclusive because one can see it as a symbol. It also depends on how the Epic Cycle is being interpreted as well. Indeed. Helen could be seen as "a bit" damsel in distress in the essence of war because she is not a warrior but nope indeed she is far from that in general. She speaks her mind, she is self-conscious she is intelligent and she also has many talents and virtues. I'd say she is one of the most misinterpreted female characters of Greek mythology. She definitely is not just another pretty face.

Gosh thank you so much for this amazing insight and comment! You're awesome

@prompted-wordsmith

This is for you because your small story was amazing so I want to create one in return! And since you want Helen to speak up more here is a little interaction pre-departure from Troy between Helen and Odysseus because why not!

The city hadn't yet stopped smoking from the night of massacre. Helen feared it never would. The smell of burning wood and asbestos was sticking on her clothes and hair; bitter reminder of the events of the night before. Helen didn't want even to think of the lingering smell of blood; metal and water that she had touched. It was as if everything was red now; hands and heart and bloodshot eyes. She hadn't slept that night or the night after it. She feared she never would again.

She could still feel that this was partially her fault; both the beginning and the end of it. She knew the Horse was a farse; a well-staged plan. She chose not to alert the alarm. She had chosen her side once more. And now women and children and men at Troy were laying down dead or worse. She remembered seeing Andromache being dragged out of the city in chains along with other women. They were to be sold as slaves or given as prices to the kings of the Acheans. The once proud queen was now crying woefully; mourning her husband who was killed. She had been dragged out of her husband's tomb where she went to seek sanctuary. That was the ultimate hubris along with her father-in-law Priam who she heard from a conversation had been slain upon the altar he hoped would grand him his life. She heard it was Neoptolemus, the young man who carried the blood of Achilles in his veins and apparently his rage and temper. Who would have known that a child like that could be so cruel and blasphemous? So full of rage? Helen could not see her infant son in her arms as she was taken away. She didn't even dare to ask. For a brief second Andromache raised her head and her honey eyes stuck within her blue ones. The look was almost accusatory as the tears had given her face reddish lines. Or perhaps it was the self inflicted scratches that she had made in her woe. That second lasted longer than it should be before the queen was dragged away.

"That could have been me..." she thought

However her position was not much different. As she was standing at the peer, she was always guarded by a soldier; obviously her husband wanted both to protect her but also obviously he didn't trust her. Helen couldn't say she blamed him but it still hurt. She was seeing Menelaus talking to Odysseus, sorting out the details. Helen watched her husband and her former fiance in wonder. Indeed how strange fate was! How different the two men were! She could tell Menelaus's auburn hair from kilometers away as they were held together by a band around his head. He was well built and strong, seemed dressed in sunlight. Odysseus next to him seemed the opposite. He wasn't tall. He was barely average, a few decent inches shorter than her husband and a good head shorter than her brother-in-law however he seemed wider in shoulder and his chest resembled a wall dressed in a coat of dark curly hair. His head was adorned with black hair that seemed golden under the setting sun: bushy and curly like a ram held together by various little bands that held his curls tamed under his leather headband. His beard was equally bushy and shaggy even if he had obviously tried to make himself more presentable from the night before. His onyx eyes were bottomless holes. The man seemed tired; prematurely aged that day. Helen knew that he had a similar burden to bare with her. How strange indeed, she thought. The man seemed like coming from the night. And yet he seemed darker now; his shoulders seemed heavier than before.

"Take her home safely"

Odysseus's voice drew her out of her daydream. His voice was hoarse and tired. He seemed aged before his years. Helen remembered again the flamboyant young man that was supposed to court her. Sure his eyes filled with premature wisdom and intelligence gave him an aura of age but she could remember his laughter and smile seemed those of a teenager as if trying to persuade people of his actual age. Now that teen was gone. He was a man now; long past that first youth; a Sacker of Cities.

"Otherwise all this would have been for nothing!"

The timbre in his voice; the seer accusation, hurt her much more than anything besides her husband's distrust. No, at least Odysseus...the wise and prudent Odysseus should understand. Menelaus nodded to his loyal friend and shot her with yet another look. Helen couldn't decide if it was angry or closer to sad. As he walked away she turned again to look at Odysseus. The man barely saw her with the corner of his eye but spoke nothing. Helen couldn't bare the silence any longer.

"Odysseus..." she finally spoke, "Why? How can you be so cruel?"

"Cruel?" His voice was full of disbelief, of anger that made his chest rise like the tide

He turned to her walking like a lion ready to pounce. Helen stood her ground though. She stuck her ocean blue eyes deeply within his black ones.

"Cruel?" He repeated, "I've lost my son's first 10 years because of this war!"

"This war wasn't my choice!" Helen felt the need to defend herself against him.

"It commensed because of you!" The accusation was finally spoken outloud, "Menelaus started this because of you!"

"I didn't know he-..."

"YES YOU DID!" Odysseus finally bellowed making her take a step back, "yes you did...you just didn't think!"

He turned her back at her. He was about to leave but he didn't seem done yet.

"The blood of many brave Acheans is on your hands..."

That was way too much. Odysseus should know better than hurt her this way! This was unfair even if spoken through pain and anger. Bravely Helen held back the tears that burnt her eyes. He wouldn't see her weep!

"If I told you..." she began with the best voice she could master, "...that gods play games with us all the time...that they cloud our judgment... Would you believe me?"

Odysseus looked over his shoulder but spoke nothing.

"You of all people should understand" Helen whispered

"What does it matter what I'd believe?"

"It matters to me!" Helen replied firmly. "Please, Odysseus...at least you...at least you should believe me..."

Odysseus seemed ready to reply but the last minute he stopped himself. He chose silence; cruel and cold silence. He began walking away. Two angry tears ran down her white, rosy cheeks. No she couldn't leave it this way!

"ODYSSEUS!" She yelled after him, "you're a hypocrite!"

That stopped him to his tracks as he turned around.

"What?" He asked almost scandalized

Helen was shivering from top to bottom and her knuckles turned white from clenching them too hard.

"Do you think you're any better, Sacker of cities?!" The last one was spat like an insult like a curse, "do you think your hands are clean? You say that the war commensed because of me! That so many Greeks died because of me! Then what about you, Odysseus? What about all the Trojans killed in the city in that bloodbath?! What about all these women and children that are now piled up to be burnt or eaten by dogs and vultures? Who is to answer for THOSE Odysseus?"

Odysseus of Ithaca was frozen in place, shaking in anger but so was she. And she wouldn't be stopped now. She was Helen of Sparta, Helen of Troy, Helen the daughter of Zeus!

"It was your plan, your scheme that got the Greeks inside the holy city of Troy! It was your idea that gave them the way to sack it!"

Odysseus, the eloquent man seemed now unable to respond. He seemed stripped out of his furious anger although some of it was burning inside. Instead he managed to utter

"This massacre wasn't my choice..."

A sound between humorless and mocking laughter and cry came out of her mouth.

"Oh so you tell me you didn't know? You didn't know that the Greeks who were away from their homes, wives and children wouldn't unleash all their piled hatred? Didn't you know they would burn the city that kept them away from them to the ground so it wouldn't rise again?"

He didn't respond. Helen knew he couldn't.

"You say the blood of the Greeks is on my hands. Then the blood of Trojans is on yours!"

Odysseus seemed to have trouble breathing. She had hurt him and she knew it. Perhaps she had simply voiced everything he had in his mind all those days. She could remember how tenderly he spoke of his wife and son. Her husband used to say he identified himself as father of Telemachus not son of Laërtes. Women and children...his son and wife... He seemed ready to either lash at her or leave. However as always The Man of Many Ways sighed and did the unexpected; he spoke again.

"It doesn't matter whether I believe you or not, you know. What it matters is if he does"

Helen took a glance towards Menelaus from a distance. He was preparing the ship. She sighed and returned her gaze towards the man they called "equal to gods".

"But do you?"

"Yes" he finally admitted, "yes I believe you"

Helen sighed in relief. It was her thanking to him

"There is fate between us, Helen..." Odysseus said hoarsely.

Helen didn't need to see his face behind his wide back to read his expression.

"Yes" she replied, "you could have been my husband"

"I am glad that I'm not"

That husky whisper made her look up in wonder. She didn't expect that answer.

"You don't deserve me" the son of Laërtes said, "and I don't deserve you"

He barely looked at her again over his large shoulder.

"I see now why my cousin loved you" whispered she

"And I see why he loved you." Replied Odysseus, "why he started a war for you. Not for his pride; for you. You were indeed worth it..."

He looked at her again for the first time for a while.

"You and I have both blood on our hands" he said grimly, "you, the starter of war, hold the blood of many brave Acheans upon you...while I, the one who ended it, the Sacker of Cities, will have to live for the rest of my life carrying the deaths of Trojans upon me... Women and children..."

He covered his face with his large hand and turned around. He was sobbing.

"Women and children..." he whispered again, "Penelope...my sweet Telemachus...children... infants no older than he was..."

Helen was afraid to ask. She didn't want to know. She had met enough horror for a lifetime. She wanted to move on. She wanted to forget.

"Get home safely, Odysseus" she wished to him, "Husband to Penelope...father to Telemachus. I hope you will get what you wished for..."

"You too, Helen, kissed by the sun like golden Aphrodite...daughter of Zeus. Farewell Queen of Sparta..."

He walked away. Helen heard his voice yelling orders to his men like the expert sailor he was. Helen sighed and smiled so slightly. The title he used...was addressed to her. Odysseus had recognized her admitted her but also signaled her, her fate. She knew now she had a second chance to rectify everything; first for herself and next for everyone else.

The journey had come to an end. A new one was about to begin.

Okay guys I am so sorry I have no idea why or how but yeah...this... I hope you liked it.

[svfttachi]

Can you write Itachi and Yn kinda got into a arrange sort of relationship?!? And Yn stays a bit distant and barely talks to Itachi where as Itachi he tries his best to like you know care for her and stuff but he sometimes feels sad and hurt by her actions towards him idk

TYPE: Fem!reader, Angst, Fluff, Non-Mass AU

WARNING(S): None

WC: 3273

NOTES: I really liked writing this one, and I'm sorry for taking too long! I hope you enjoy this!

SIGNING a piece of paper that would dictate who you would spend the rest of your life with would most seemingly be the best day of your life, right? Wrong. Arranged marriages were common amongst members of different clans as a way to produce offspring that would grow to be powerful heads of their clans. However, marrying into the Uchiha clan was on a whole other level. For one thing, the Uchihas were known to be the most powerful clan in all of the Hidden Leaf Village, so marrying into it would be considered an honor since you’d have to be fit to a T to even be considered as a possible spouse to an Uchiha. The other thing, all of the elders were known for forcing young children and teens into pursuing the highest degree of honor that comes with being ninjas. That, in turn, only begins the rise of crushing mental health disorders amongst the Uchiha to which nobody tends to find a way to fight it and continue with the stressful path.

So, here you were inside of your new shared home cleaning up a little before the supposed arrival of your dear husband and one of the distinguishable ninja in the village, Uchiha Itachi. Growing up, you didn’t get why the girls in your class were always ogling over the Uchiha. In your opinion, he had a generic face with typical dark eyes and dark hair, and nothing significant stood out. However, that doesn’t mean you didn’t find him a remarkable ninja. You, along with everyone else in the village, knew what Itachi was capable of as a ninja. At times, you would grow jealous with how much attention he would get for being the best of the best in the clan since you were also one of the finest ninjas in your own clan. Shortly after the wedding ceremony between you and Itachi, you were advised to take on the tasks of a housewife rather than go on dangerous missions into the wilderness. It bothered you how patriarchal the Uchiha clan was, but who could you complain to in the hopes that that would change?

The sliding of the front door pulled you out of your thoughts, and your head turned in the direction of the entryway. Itachi walked into the house tearing his gear off from around his torso and untying his ninja headband, setting both objects onto the ground near the door. He took off his sandals, and you failed to notice the small bouquet of flowers held in his calloused hand. You were frozen in place with the broom still stuck in your hands as you watched Itachi walk up to you with one of his rare smiles that he only shows to you, his little brother, his best friend, and his former captain from the ANBU. Seeing Itachi in such a mood was a feeling only you could truly experience since the man had to keep his emotions hidden in his heart for missions and meetings with other ninjas.

“I hope that you didn’t make dinner yet. Let’s go out tonight, my treat,” Itachi spoke in his deep voice, holding out the bouquet of flowers in front of you. Your eyes danced from his delicate face to the flowers in his hand. “There’s leftovers from lunch that we can have instead,” you mumbled, turning to go back to brushing the floor with your broom.

No way were you going out to dinner with your arranged husband, willingly. Itachi sighed and stepped back a little to set the flowers down on the small dining table. “If you change your mind, I’ll be in my room,” Itachi whispered, hoping you wouldn’t hear him. Regardless, the words flew into one of your ears and out the other with no care in the world.

Light footsteps began to fade as Itachi left the dining room and went up the stairs to his room. Yes, the two of you had agreed to take on separate rooms since neither of you wanted this marriage in the first place. It would be more awkward if the two of you did sleep in the same room together, so it was quickly decided to not even approach that event.

Itachi entered his room and shut the door behind him, quietly not that you would have minded him slamming it shut. An exhausted sigh left his mouth as he approached the closet in his minimally decorated room and picked out a simple t-shirt with the Uchiha crest displayed on the back and a pair of comfortable pants. He set the clothes onto his futon which rested in the middle of his room, but instead of changing directly, he sat down on the futon and rubbed his hands over his face.

Over the past couple of months since the arranged marriage became official, Itachi’s heart began to beat erratically whenever you were in his presence. At first, he didn’t mind being in such a relationship since he was doing it to please his father and the heads of the clan, but the small amount of time he spent with you in this house was enough for him to grow feelings towards you. In the event you did smile, laugh, or show any sort of happiness in your face or body language, Itachi would feel himself achieve the same feeling inside of his body despite how emotionless he had to be due to his career as a ninja. Times when he came back injured or hurt from his missions, you would, hesitantly, treat his wounds because, of course, you didn’t want him to die from infections and stuff like that. That would just be entirely cruel of you, and you weren’t that heartless. Nonetheless, those small moments where you were your normal self and not some emotionless and heartless person would make his heart flutter even more for you.

A light knock rasped against the glass screen of his window, but Itachi was too into his thoughts to look up at the window. However, it didn’t stop his best friend from sliding the window up and lightly jumping into the room. It wasn’t completely necessary for Shisui to enter Itachi’s room like that because you didn’t care who was around as long as it was clean, but Shisui found it entertaining to climb up walls and enter in such a drastic way.

“I’m guessing the flowers didn’t sell her,” Shisui mumbled quietly, kneeling down to sit next to Itachi. Itachi simply shook his head and tried to take his mind off of it, but in the end, he couldn’t ever stop thinking about you. That’s just the kind of effect you had on him. Shisui placed a comforting hand on Itachi’s shoulder and patted it a couple of times as a way to show him that he was there for him. “Maybe she just needs more time to adjust,” Shisui added.

Itachi looked up and shook his head, “There’s nothing more I can do. She just hates me, and I didn’t give her a good reason to hate me… did I?” Itachi looked over at Shisui for the answer, and the older Uchiha simply shrugged his shoulders, “Who knows?”

The conversation between the two Uchihas was halted when a bird flew into the room with a scroll held in the strap around its body. It landed on Shisui’s shoulder, allowing the older Uchiha to take the scroll out of its holster. Itachi leaned a little close to Shisui to see what was written in the scroll only to find out it was an A-ranked mission that had to take place soon.

“Well, duty calls. I’ll meet you by the gate in a few,” Shisui stated, placing the scroll back in the bird’s holster. As the bird flew away, Shisui got up and headed for the window, anticipating to leave but he looked back at Itachi once more. “If you think she is worth it, ‘Tachi, then by all means keep going for it. I can see how much you care for Y/N, and she is bound to come around at some point,” Shisui said.

Itachi stared at his best friend for a little until the older Uchiha jumped out of the window to prepare for the mission. He knew his best friend was right, but was it worth it to cling onto someone who doesn’t reciprocate the same feeling?

Pushing it aside, Itachi, still in his ninja gear from his earlier C-rank mission, got up from his futon and walked out of his room. As he made his way downstairs, Itachi held eye contact on your figure which was still dusting the area of the first floor, hastily. Unknowingly, his feet walked him over to you to which you didn’t bat a single eye to. “Shisui and I got called for a mission. Don’t wait up on me for dinner since I may be back late,” Itachi said, rechecking his gear to distract his mind from the beating sensation of his heart in his chest.

You stopped dusting the floor and looked up at Itachi. A shroud of worry blew past you, followed by a light frown. “Well be careful, then,” you whispered and momentarily stared at his face, waiting for him to retreat. Itachi simply nodded and walked away to grab his gear, headband, and slide on his sandals.

Once he was out the door, you let out a sigh and went back to working on cleaning the entire house.

— — —

A bright blue sky was greeted with chirping birds and the exhausted panting of the Uchiha pair. The mission from the evening prior had gone on all night, and it left Shisui with some minor injuries and Itachi with a couple of larger gashes to his chest and abdomen. The younger Uchiha of the pair was to keep a large piece of gauze pressed on his abdomen where the gnash was still pouring out his crimson blood.

“You go get that checked out with the hospital, and I’ll deliver the report to the Hokage,” Shisui stated, looking begrudgingly at Itachi’s wounded torso. Itachi shook his head and continued taking deep breaths as he leaned against the tree near the gate to the village. “I’ll be fine… it’s just a scratch,” Itachi mumbled tiredly.

Shisui clicked his tongue, but he knew better than to argue with an Uchiha. “Fine, but let me know when you’re feeling better since you apparently despise the hospital and its authority to take care of you properly,” Shisui joked darkly before retreating onto a nearby rooftop.

Itachi took his time in going through the spacious village which would usually be packed with people, but due to it being too early in the morning, there weren’t many people walking around. He arrived at the Uchiha compound, and it was quiet as ever which allowed him to slip in undetected. In a matter of time, he arrived at your shared home, practically falling into the entryway.

The clash of objects coming from the entryway startled you from the kitchen, so you tossed the dish rag in your hand and untied your apron, making your way over there. Upon arriving, you found Itachi barely standing up with a hand pressed against a beam to keep his balance, and his other hand was weakly holding onto the blood soaked piece of gauze on his abdomen. “Itachi! What the heck happened?!” you gasped out, rushing to help him stand up better.

Taking one of his arms around your shoulder, you began to lead the exhausted man to the dining table and sat him down on the floor and on top of a cushion. “Let me see,” you whispered, staring at the gauze he measly kept against his oozing wound. A pained wince escaped from Itachi’s mouth as he carefully pulled the sticky gauze off of his wound, showcasing the depth it took into his skin. “Why didn’t you go to the hospital? This could be seriously infected!” you shouted, furrowing your brows at the Uchiha whilst shaking your head disapprovingly.

Keeping quiet, Itachi watched you walk away in a hurry only to come back with the first aid kit you both kept in the kitchen. You sat down in front of Itachi and motioned him to take off his gear and shirt which would allow you a better view of the damage that was done on his delicate skin. Carefully, Itachi pulled the sticky, blood soaked fabric off of his torso, revealing the gruesome jab at his abdomen he acquired during the mission. To your eyes, it looked less serious than it was when his shirt was taking in all the blood that emerged from it, so you pulled out the necessary supplies and began working on his wound.

The distance between the two of you was the shortest amount of space you two have been in ever since the day you two signed your marriage certificate. Ever since that day, you always kept your distance from Itachi and tended to be the caretaker for the home with him gone on missions occasionally.

When dabbing the outer edges of the wound with rubbing alcohol, you grew apparent to the wincing that the Uchiha was letting out, trying to keep them shielded from your excellent hearing. “Sorry… I have to make sure you don’t get an infection,” you explained in a low whisper, momentarily looking up to meet his narrowed eyes. Itachi nodded which allowed you to focus back on cleaning the wound.

A pile of blood stained and rubbing alcohol soaked cotton balls formed next to you as you began the next stage in fixing up Itachi. With your extensive medical training during your time as a ninja, you were skilled in suturing and stitching up skin to close a wound. Itachi watched with intensity how professional you were being in preparing the thread that you were going to use to stitch his wound. “This is going to sting a little here and there, but you can hold onto my arm if you’d like,” you commented with your focus completely on the thread and needle.

At first, Itachi didn’t feel the need to hold onto you in such a way, seeing as he was respectful of the boundaries you set for yourself. But as soon as the needle dug into the skin of his abdomen, Itachi found himself gripping onto your arm, making sure not to squeeze too hard unintentionally. Glancing up at Itachi’s face, a small smirk formed on your lips to which he simply chuckled in response, awkwardly of course.

The grand clock in your living area was the only audible sound ticking in the air as the silence of your voices were too encased in the space you two occupied. Itachi, occasionally, glanced down at your handiwork and was growing pleased with how determined, focused, and skilled you were with a needle and medical-grade thread. As a bonus, the completely focused expression on your face was enough to make Itachi go erratic in his heartbeat, as per usual.

Finishing up the last stitch, you clipped the thread and set the needle and thread aside. Reaching into the small first aid bin, you grabbed the roll of bandages and began to roll out a starting length of it to wrap around Itachi’s waist. However, just as you were going to wrap the bandage around him, your eyes took in the sight of the large gash, all stitched and closed up, which crossed over his toned muscles. Gulping, you proceeded to blink away the sight and went to wrap up Itachi’s wound, making sure it wasn’t too tight or too loose. Itachi wasn’t oblivious to the look on your face when you spotted his chiseled look, but he didn’t want to bring it to your attention.

Once you were finished, you began to clean up all of the used supplies and restored the remaining materials in the first aid kit. Before you could get up, Itachi grasped your wrist and pulled you closer to him to the point your noses were brushing against one another, softly. Itachi’s charcoal eyes looked up to meet your shining orbs, and it was evident that he was smiling now from the sign of little eye creases at the corners of his eyes.

“Y/N… I may have fallen, head-over-heels, for you,” Itachi whispered quietly, bringing a hand up to caress your cheek softly. Your breath grew shaky at the proximity between the two, and you couldn’t help but feel warmth coming to your cheeks, especially where the backs of Itachi’s soft fingers rubbed against.

In a haste, you backed away, got up, and rushed out of the dining room and up the stairs, leaving Itachi seated in the dining room with a confused look on his face. Nearly tripping a couple of times on your way to your room, you managed to enter and slammed the door shut behind you with your back leaning against it. Gravity pulled your figure down to the ground, so you sat with your back against the door and your hands rubbing your temples.

You couldn’t argue that your heart was doing a little dance through the interaction between you and Itachi, but the feeling came almost too sudden for you to fully comprehend. It was never your intention to fall for the Uchiha as you remained composed and distant with the man in the hopes you’d never have to deal with this, yet… it seems your heart is denying such intentions. Especially whenever you saw the pain you were causing him whilst treating his dangerous wound, you couldn’t stand to see his face contort in such ways nor the winces that escaped his mouth. Just earlier in the week, you were able to separate yourself from Itachi and go on about your day through cleaning and maintaining the house, but now… it seemed rather impossible to stop thinking about the Uchiha in these caring ways.

Soft knocks hit the door behind your back, startling you a little. Taking a deep breath, you stood up and hesitantly slid the door open, focusing on the look on Itachi’s face. He looked upset and bothered by the way he made you run away after speaking with you.

“Look, Y/N, let’s just forget what I sa—”

“I think I feel the same way about you.”

Itachi didn’t like being cut off before he could apologize for the way he made you react, but hearing your confession of your love for him was enough to make him push back everything he believed in and widen his eyes in shock. Never would he ever think you would accept his love this fast, yet here you were thinking about it.

“A—Are you certain of it? I don’t want to impose anything on you if you are not—”

Once again, the man was silenced, but this time, the interruption came in the form of a sudden casing of warmth surrounding his waist. Frozen and in complete shock, Itachi stood still with you clinging onto his torso with your arms wrapped around him, securely. “I wouldn’t say it unless I’m certain, Itachi,” you said, voice muffled by the fabric of the clean shirt he had put on prior to this. Itachi comprehended the situation happening right here, and he didn’t waste another second into reciprocating the hug, keeping you trapped and close to his body. His chin dug into your head, allowing him to place a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“Thank you, Y/N… for everything.”

*GIF DOES NOT BELONG TO ME*

NARUTO MASTERLIST

WRITING MASTERLIST

NAVIGATION

[jasntodds]

(if this is too specific or werid i get it)

I’m having a hard time about this situation so maybe a blurb about Tom comforting the reader who’s losing her best friend because the best friend is in a toxic relationship & is moving away and has been isolating themselves from all the friends in their friend group?

Ps: you’re like probably one of my only mutuals I trust to write about this (if you’re comfortable) Ily 😭💕

Aww, Jess I’m so sorry you’re going through this!! I’ve been through it and it’s honestly so hard and heartbreaking. I hope it works out and your friend is able to realize the relationship is toxic and can leave!! Also, it’s such an honor you trust me to write this 😭 ily!! I hope you like it 💕

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Words: 1,059

Warnings: Talks of a toxic relationship, Tom just being supportive

It’s late, far past the time you’d normally be in bed as you sit on your couch, wrapped in one of your favorite blankets. The TV is quiet, light illuminating your face as one of your comfort movies plays on but you’re not paying very much attention.

Your friend has been pushing you away due to a toxic relationship and it has been anything but easy on you. So, you're stuck here, trying to keep your mind occupied from it all and not worry about what could possibly go wrong with everything. But that’s always easier in thought rather than in practice.

“What’re you still doing up, love?” Tom asks as he walks around from the back of the couch, almost making you jump. “Sorry,” Tom chuckles softly as he takes a seat beside you. “Woke up and you weren’t there, got a bit worried.”

“It’s okay.” Your voice is soft, just above a whisper as you see the sleep in Tom’s eyes. “Did I wake you up?” Your voice is apologetic.

Tom shakes his head. “No, no, woke up randomly. What’s going on?”

You shrug, not really wanting to talk about it. You do want to talk about it because maybe it’ll make you feel better but it’s also not really your business to share. Tom wouldn’t just go talking to anyone about it or anything like that, it would stay between the two of you but it’s still not your relationship. Then again, your friend isn’t really taking your feelings into consideration so why should you?

“You can tell me.” Tom scoots closer to you.

You let out a sigh, rubbing your face. “You know my friend, the one that’s in that relationship with the guy I don’t like?”

Tom nods. “Somethin’ happen?” You can hear the worry in his voice, unsure if he’s worried there was a big fight between you two or if something worse happened to them.

“Yes…no…yeah kind of.” You groan. “I don’t know. Their boyfriend is just….not good.”

“That’s what you’ve said, did he do something?”

“Not anything what you’re thinking.” You assure him. “It’s just that, ever since they started dating, she’s been pulling away and it’s always him which I can understand but now it’s more than just the honeymoon stage.” You start explaining. “At first, it was small stuff. She would say they already made plans or something but now, it’s that he doesn’t let her come out with any of us alone. And he knows I don’t like him which is why they rarely come around anymore.”

“That’s…I’m sorry, darling.” Tom puts his arm around you, just willing to listen.”

“She said she isn’t sure if she wants to be friends anymore because I don’t support her relationship and her being happy. But that’s not even true.” Your voice shakes a little as Tom pulls you closer to him. “I’ve always supported her relationships and her happiness but he’s taking away her freedom and her friends which isn’t right. She’s never there for anymore either but I don’t want to give up our friendship, especially if something worse happens. It can start off like this and end much worse so I just want to be there for her but she’s making it very hard. And I don’t know what to do.”

Tom sighs softly, knowing this isn’t something that has an easy solution. He misses the top of your head. “I don’t know if there’s anything you can do, love.” Tom says quietly, rubbing your arm softly. “Think all you can do is try to be a friend and be there for them when things end.”

“Do you think that’s the right thing to do though? She won’t really let me be her friend.”

“I dunno. You should put yourself first. If it’s too much for you to handle, mentally and emotionally, you might have to take some time away, for your own good. Maybe give them space, if you’re okay with it and you can, just be the friend she’ll allow you to be. If you can’t hang out with her, don’t rely on her. But then, when it does end, you can still be there for her. But only if it’s something you can handle.” Tom pauses. “It’s hard and it’s okay if it’s too much.”

“I would just miss her and I worry about her.”

“I know but you can sacrifice your own happiness for someone else. Give her space and just be, be someone who listens. It’s hard but maybe that’s what she needs, ya know?”

“Yeah…maybe.” You sigh.

“I’m sorry, darlin’.” Tom places another kiss to the top of your head. “She doesn’t want help right now or advice. And if she no longer wants to be your friend anyway, that’s terrible and it’s her loss but if she’s willing to throw away your friendship, permanently, even when they break up, over a guy, were they ever your friend to begin with?”

“I guess that’s a good point.”

Maybe if it were high school, it’d be different because you’d just be kids so wrapped up in the idea of love and being loved. But you’re not kids anymore. It’s so much easier to move past when you’re kids because everything happens so fast and everyone is kind of going through the same or similar things. But as adults, it grows tiring, being pushed off to the side over a toxic relationship. It isn’t good for your mental health to always be putting your all into a friendship when the other person can’t do the same, or won’t do the same thing just because of a boy.

You get it because she loves him but you can’t imagine ending a friendship just because Tom doesn’t like one of your friends. But you’re not in a toxic relationship.

“I think I’ll just try to give her some space and be there for her however she wants to be.” You say quietly. “I don’t want to give up but maybe I won’t rely on her so much, just leave the door open for her if she ever wants to leave.”

“I think that’s a good idea, darlin’.” Tom whispers to you. “Why won’t you try to get some sleep then?”

You look up at Tom and offer him a small but thankful smile. “Thank you.”

Birthday Blurb Week

[tired-teacher-blog]

Hey Teach!

I'm new to your blog, but gotta say that I've loved everything I have read so far! Could I be so bold as to request head cannons or drabble where the idea of trying a poly relationship (M/M/F) is brought up? No preference for characters, simply whoever you feel most comfortable with ^^

Much love!

Sweetheart I'm so honored you liked reading my stuff!❤️ And I really enjoyed working on your request because the idea is so refreshing so I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it.

Title : Another shape of love

Characters : Shouto/ Bakugo/ Fem reader

Genre : drabble/ fluff

Trigger warning (I guess) : Characters to be involved in a polyamorous relationship, so please keep that in mind in case this is not something you're comfortable with.

Masterlist

The three of you are inseparable, and your relationship is tighter than any typical friendship.

You are each other's pillars, strength and refuge. And you would gladly die for one another.

You can never put a label on it -neither do you feel the need to- all you are certain of, is that you would never.. none in a million years.. abandon one another. That's how powerful your bond is.

So it was only a matter of time before one of you asked the question..

_ "So? What do you guys think?" Shouto proposed crossing his arms and tilting his head to the side.

_ "What?! You must be crazy! Isn't this a little weird?" Katsuki was clearly unamused. As much as he adores the both of you, he's never been good at sharing, so the idea of the three of you being officially involved in a polyamorous relationship didn't sit well with him.

_ "Well, you love me right?" Shouto pushed further, "And you clearly love y/n as well so why not?"

_ "Wait a minute, just wait!" Katsuki took a step backwards and brought his hands up defensively "Let's hear what y/n has to say about this first." His eyes searched yours for an answer and you struggled to find the right words.

Honestly speaking, you've been in love with the both of them for a long time, but you were clearly unable to express your feelings. You've always been afraid of ruining what you have in case you confessed, because frankly, what guarantee do you have? So for the longest time, you stifled your emotions for everyone's sake, even if it meant suffering in silence.. It was fine, because they're worth it.

But the opportunity was finally presenting itself, you're not alone in this, you're all together.

_ "So.. what do you think?" It was Shouto's turn to urge you to speak.

_ "I.. yeah, if you're both okay with it then, yeah.." You practically mumbled your response and looked down as you did, too embarrassed to meet their eyes, but more than anything, too afraid to tear up. It was a surreal moment, one that you never thought would come to be.

_ "See?" Shouto smiled at how cute he thought you seemed, shifting his attention to Katsuki, who said nothing for a while, and instead kept his eyes on you.

_"Come on, let's at least try it before disregarding the idea entirely, and if things don't go well, then we'll call it off." Shouto moved closer to his friend and grabbed his arm, squeezing it lightly as he coaxed.

_ "Fine, I'm in.. To be honest I don't see myself doing something as crazy as this with any others."

Katsuki could finally let out a shy smile while looking at the both of you.

_ "It's not crazy at all, it makes perfect sense!" Shouto added with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

_ "Damn you half and half bastard, how can I possibly say no to you.. to either of you." Katsuki sighed, gazing at the both of you lovingly.

It was the happiness you craved ever since you've met them.

It was something nearly impossible but you're finally there, right where you want to be the most.

_ "I love you, and I always will." You could finally say it out loud and clear, with no fear or hesitation, and the twinkle in their eyes was enough proof of their reciprocated feelings.

@delirious-donna

[olderthannetfic]

I wanted to ask your followers and your opinion on something. I block liberally because I'd like to avoid starting shit on my blog. I have a couple piece of art (and other posts) that get notes despite how old they are. Some stuff like an old still popular ship and general fandom humor. But some stuff is cute art. Cute shit that anti's like to flock too. It sucks bc I adore cute things (I also adore cute thing + dark/problematic themes) and pastel colors. And this interest is really important to me because I spent a majority of my youth rejecting "girly" things bc surprise surprise it turns out I'm trans (NB) and was desperately trying to distance myself from being associated as a girl. It took years of work to allow myself to enjoy "girly" things without feeling guilty or like I was lying to myself. Anti's will have to pry my love for cute shit and pastels from my cold dead problematic fingers.

These posts don't get too many notes daily so it's relatively easy for me to do a quick search of some key words on individual blogs who interact with my work and then block on site. Sometimes however I feel a little unsure about the blocking because sometimes the only results that come up and stink of anti behavior are 3 to 6 years old. I'm left wondering if I should really block these people because none of their recent stuff sets off red flags. Like there is a possibility that they're no longer like that and just haven't bothered to purge their blog. I get that it's okay for me to set boundaries and be safe, but I also feel guilty bc if it is people who have changed/ex-anti's I don't want to contribute to the issue of isolating people that leave toxic groups. Since, like, the threat of isolation is something that's used to keep people from leaving cult-like spaces.

I understand that I'm overthinking a lot, and me blocking these people is probably not doing what I worry about. I know it's not worth my energy to worry about, therapy taught me that. It's just practicing telling your brain to cut it out is forever a journey.

But anyways, I was wondering what your guy's opinion is, especially for those who regularly block on site to avoid anti's if the only anti stuff you can find on their blog is years old. And if you don't is there a threshold? Like how recent does the anti behavior have to be for you to consider it a reason to block?

(I know you, OTNF, have mention you only block people who are a brand of asshole at you and not preemptively block like I mention, but maybe some of the people who read your stuff do? But I'd also like to hear your opinion if you want to share it/have something to add. I enjoy your responses and want to thank you for being consistently informative and interesting. That's probably worded weird lol, but yeah, thank you for taking time to read this.)

--

:)

I do preemptively block people, but it's generally for seeming extremely annoying at the time I block them, usually in their tumblr header or an inflammatory comment on another anti's post. These aren't subtle people is what I'm saying.

When I block preemptively, it's less about protecting myself and more about taking pleasure in going "U Suck!" even if they never know.

I generally don't bother digging back through someone's archive unless I'm just enjoying looking at the posts. Whether they'll have changed is hard to say though. 3 years just isn't that long, but it also depends if we're talking 16-19 or 40-43.

It's not your job to help cult victims escape though. Sure, it's nice if they don't get shunned, yadda yadda, but you welcoming them to your personal tumblr is not a public service you're honor bound to provide.

Also, maybe they haven't posted any anti bullshit in 3 years, but have they posted the opposite? I see no reason they should be coddled for once holding reprehensible views and merely ceasing to be vocal about them.

[frostedfaves]

Naive (4)

Masterlist

Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Wanda decides to share more of herself and her intentions with you.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️, dom/sub dynamic (may or may not have thrown the word ‘pet’ in there), a bit of traumatic background/villain origin story, smut: finger (claw) fucking, tongue fucking, brief handcuff use, oh and squirting’s implied at one point

A/N: hi yeah okay so I know I was supposed to post some other stuff first but I literally haven’t updated this since end of August and someone asked for demon!Wanda during halloween...anyway I finally was able to make something coherent from my notes on this part and I hope it was worth the wait lmao

**edit: forgot to say a huge thank you to @lovelyladyships. one of her brilliant ideas made it into the smut (it was the finger/claw fucking)**

Previous part

-

It seems as if every single one of your bones came to the agreement that you were too scared to move, your feet glued to the ground despite the possibility of your shaky legs failing you at any moment. You don’t know how else to respond to seeing Wanda’s true form, her overall appearance the same with a few modifications.

Thick, dark horns grow from within her hair, upward and out to either side. A tail fitting a similar description is positioned behind her back, seemingly the length of two people of average height (or more) but resting in a loosely coiled formation to keep it close. Her eyes that are steadily focused on yours without a single blink resemble rubies on fire, and you almost don’t notice the claws on her fingers until she reaches for you.

“Don’t touch me,” you’re able to get out in time for her to stop, your relief only short lived as she pulls you close with her tail seconds later. 

“I know you’re scared; I can hear it in your heartbeat and your breathing,” she tells you with her glowing eyes scanning you. “But you don’t have to fear me, just respect that I’m in charge.”

“I want to go home,” you whimper and she sighs.

“What’s in your home that you can’t have here?” Wanda places her hands on either side of your neck, her thumb nails lightly scratching your jaw. “You don’t like being underground? That’s what my apartment is for. We can visit it to get some air.”

“You want me to live here?!”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Wanda frowns, her grip slightly tightening. “You’re mine now.”

“You can’t decide that for me.”

“I decide everything for you. I wanted you so I have you now.”

Wanda shifts to wrap one hand around your neck, using the grip to force you to walk backwards into another room, and you’re almost not surprised when she shoves you onto a large bed.

“This isn’t something you have to be scared of,” she attempts to assure you, climbing onto the mattress to hover above you. “Being mine is an honor that any other little human would be begging me to have.”

“Then why not take another ‘little human’.”

“Because I want you!” Wanda growls at a very intense volume, her hand squeezing your throat again as she leans closer to your face. “You’ve already proven yourself to be one of a kind, a treasure in my eyes. You’re the first person I’ve felt comfortable enough to show my true identity to beyond scaring a stranger for temporary enjoyment. Perhaps I assumed incorrectly that you could handle this.”

“Wanda…”

You sigh as you take a moment to study her features, able to see the vulnerability she dares to share with you despite feeling intimidated by her actions. You find yourself freeing a hand from between her legs used to cage you in, and a smile creeps onto your face when she leans into your careful touch on her cheek.

“I admit that this is a lot to discover all at once, but I don’t see you very differently because of how you actually look. What scares me most is the way you want to control so much of me so soon. It’s overwhelming.”

“You seemed receptive to it before,” Wanda replies while removing her hand from your throat and instead using it to cover yours on her face.

“Well I love sexual dominance, but I’ve never really had much more than that. I’d like to explore it but I’d also like to be treated with enough respect that you’ll talk to me before you just try changing something so drastically.”

“I guess I just assumed with my advantages and just knowing what I know of your federal government that all humans wanted every decision made for them.” Wanda pulls your hand away from her face for just a moment to kiss your palm. “I want to use my power to keep you safe, and give you everything you desire as long as you behave. I also must confess that as much as I like cats, I just used visiting the adoption center as an excuse to see you again. I was really only expecting to get one cute little pet today.”

“Oh.”

You grow silent as Wanda’s other hand moves to your neck, her claws lightly tracing along the base of it and suddenly meeting your eyes again with a smirk.

“How do you feel about a collar?”

“You want to collar me?” A grin forms on your own lips as you consider the idea.

“You seem interested.”

“I think I am.”

Wanda climbs off the bed without warning, grabbing your ankles to drag your legs over the edge. You take the hint and sit up as she walks over to a wooden box, pressing one of her rings against the lock to open it and remove a golden collar before returning to stand in front of you. The light reflects in the rubies set in the collar and the red lettering etched into the solid gold pendant that reads “Wanda’s kitten”.

“Have you always had that?”

“Yes, but I added the words after meeting you. The title fits you.” She brings the collar around your neck and fastens it quickly, watching as you touch the cold metal that’s surprisingly warm against your skin. “Let me know if that’s too tight; only I can adjust it.”

“Wait, what if I want to take it off while I’m away?”

“You’re only leaving here when I want you to.”

She’s on top of you again before you can register her words, alternating between kissing your lips and neck, and you find yourself thrusting your hips against her as soon as her thigh slips between your legs.

“It’s a shame that you can’t finger me now,” you tease, frowning when she pulls away to give you a confused glance. “What? Your claws are too sharp; you can’t do it.”

Something changes in her eyes as she shifts above you, yanking your pants and underwear completely off and returning to sit between your legs. She uses the longest claw on her middle finger to trace a light circle around your clit, bringing her free arm to hold your squirming form down by the waist before easing a finger inside you.

“Ow, ow!” you cry out and she pauses, giving you a look as she does so. “Okay, you proved your point! Please take it out; it hurts.”

She removes her finger just as carefully and licks it clean before using that same hand to deliver a slap to your pussy, seemingly pleased with the sound you make in response.

“Don’t ever tell me I can’t do something because I will prove you wrong.”

Wanda instructs you to scoot closer to the headboard so she can cuff you to the bars, lying on her stomach between your legs next and wrapping her arms around your thighs once she’s comfortable.

“Now I normally wouldn’t reward you for being bratty and challenging me, but I really do enjoy your perfect moans too much to not try this. Next time you won’t get off so easily.”

You watch as her eyes seem to brighten even more, and just when you consider asking what she’s up to, her tongue extends from her mouth, bigger and longer than you’ve ever seen. The tip of it teases your clit again, causing you to let out a small moan that grows louder as she forces her way inside. Your back arches off the bed as she fucks you roughly with the large muscle, her hands sliding along your torso to push your shirt and sports bra up and find your nipples, rubbing and pulling at them while she thrusts into you as deeply as you can take her.

“W-Wanda I’m getting close,” you call out breathlessly, feeling nearly every part of your body tense in preparation for the strong orgasm she was pushing you toward.

“Cum for me, kitten” you hear a whisper that seems to come from your own thoughts in Wanda’s tone, and you feel yourself beginning to relax just as you reach your peak. You stop moaning and just scream as the feeling hits you, tensing up again through each wave and shuddering as Wanda slowly removes her tongue that’s now covered in your cum. She curls it to keep from making a mess until she’s able to slide some of it into your mouth, and you take the hint to clean as much as you can until she pulls away, taking what’s left to taste herself.

“I didn’t expect you to be a screamer,” she laughs, and you catch sight of her tongue back to ‘normal’ before she kisses you again.

“I don’t think I have before.”

-

You’re resting in Wanda’s arms a few hours later, feeling yourself drifting off at the feeling of her tail carefully rubbing your back, but you fight it as a thought comes to you suddenly.

“Wanda?”

“Yes, kitten?” She drops her head to meet your gaze and you continue nervously.

“You said that if I knew your family, I’d understand why there were no pictures of them there. Why don’t you like them? Are they demons too?” 

“No, they weren’t.” Her expression hardens and you almost consider dropping it until she continues with a sigh, averting her gaze. “I wasn’t technically born as a demon, just turned into one.”

“What?! How did that happen?”

“My mother cheated on my father as soon as she could have sex again after birthing me. He didn’t know for a long time but her friends did, and she blamed it on postpartum depression so they wouldn’t hate her.” She lets out a chuckle completely lacking in amusement. “I would’ve hated her even more for using that excuse.”

Wanda’s eyes land on you again.

“Be a good girl and grab a bottle of vodka from the bar. I’ll need it if I’m going to tell you any more.”

You hurry off the bed and into the other room as instructed, rounding the bar counter to grab one of many vodka bottles before returning to your place in her arms. She takes a long gulp and you think she’s handing it to you but she simply shakes her head, insisting it’s too strong for you.

“The man she cheated with was in some cult that was dedicated to learning demonic rituals for their own gain, which she ended up joining and ultimately being the first person bold enough and greedy enough to try one. Her side piece gathered all the materials for her the day before, assuming she was going to perform it on my father, so imagine his surprise when he comes over and sees her six-year-old daughter asleep in the middle of all the candles.”

“Did he help her do that to you?!” you ask while sitting up a bit, but Wanda pushes you back down with a shake of her head.

“He was going to tell the police so she killed him before she got started, then got my father’s help hiding his body later by drafting some story of finding him in the basement performing a ritual on me and him confessing to stalking me before she killed him in a fit of rage. Sounds like shit straight out of a movie, right?”

“That’s awful,” you respond with a sigh, lacing your fingers with hers from the hand that wasn’t holding alcohol. “So does that mean you’re possessed?”

“No. I was given power from another demon that looked kinda like this all the time. She saw humans as disposable business partners but refused to live among them; only appeared when she was summoned and only accepted deals that included a large gain for her as well.”

“Do you still talk to her?”

“No. I gained independence from her as soon as I found out why I was being stolen in the middle of the night to do unexplainable things, all so my mother could be endlessly wealthy and famous from a few shitty songs.”

“How did you get your independence?”

“By fighting for it.”

“Oh.” You waited a moment for Wanda to continue, not very surprised when she doesn’t go into further detail. “So where are your parents now?”

“Alright, kitten.” Wanda places the half empty vodka bottle on the nightstand and tightens her grip on you. “I think it’s time for you to nap. Rest now for me.”

You want to sit up and object but your eyelids close without a bit of resistance, your body relaxing under her touch and her quiet singing lulling you into slumber.

[itsallyscorner]

Bring Me Back

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Filming “Cherry” had its ups and downs for Tom. When filming finally takes its toll on him, you’re there to instantly bring him back from the world of Cherry.

Warnings: Mentions of drug abuse, PTSD, murder. A smidge of smut.

A/n: In honor of the Cherry🍒 trailer dropping, I decided to write this!

(GIF creds: @atealiers )

Any kind of project was a blessing to Tom. He loved being an actor. He was fond of telling stories through the big screen and got a kick from portraying many different characters. Acting was something he felt passionate about, it was his craft and he was very dedicated when it came to becoming his roles. Cherry was quite different from the other movies he’s been in. It was dark and contained many subjects like drug addiction, PTSD, and crime. The world of Cherry was something Tom was not used to; it was twisted. He hasn’t been exposed to things like drugs or the events that Nico Walker had been through. Which was why he was hesitant to take on the role of Cherry.

When the Russo Brothers approached him with the idea, he was excited. He was getting the opportunity to tell another story and would explore the world of a new character. Though the more he looked into it, he realized that maybe he wasn’t up for the role. Was he really ready to dive into the dark and traumatizing life of Nico Walker? As an actor, he was willing to take the job, it would give him an opportunity to expand his career and would possibly be one of his best work. As Tom, he wasn’t sure if he could handle learning or re-enacting the events that occurred in Cherry. But Tom did like a challenge, which was why he ended up agreeing to become Cherry.

He prepared himself mentally and physically pre- production. For research, he interviewed army veterans and former drug addicts to get an idea of what it was like to be in those positions. To get the look of Cherry, he did a variety of things. For example, going on a diet and losing weight, then gaining said weight again once they had to shoot the army scenes. Another thing he did was shave off the gorgeous brown curls that adorned his head. At first you weren’t too happy with his change in hairstyle, but later on you found yourself running your hands along the short strands of hair, loving the fuzzy feeling it gave your palms.

After the interviews and hearing others’ experience, Tom felt a level of responsibility to tell the story of millions of people around the world. Not only was it telling the story of Nico, but of other army veterans who suffered from PTSD and people who’ve had drug addictions. He was fully on board now and there was no looking back. He was going to push himself to the limit and to places he’s never been before.

Filming was tough. There were scenes he had to do that were so unlike him, that felt wrong, and sometimes he just had to take a step back. They didn’t feel right, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. This was his job, if he wanted this movie to be the best that it can, he was going to commit. Thankfully, he was working with the Russos, who he’s known for a while now. He was familiar with the two and they were patient with him, giving him the time to regain himself before shooting an intense scene. The cast and crew were very understanding as well, creating a safe space for him on set. Having Harry along with him helped as well, the familiarity of his brother kept him grounded and avoided him from falling into the void of Cherry. Though he had all these supportive people around him, there was only one person who could calm him down when things got suffocating on set. The only person he wanted to be in Cleveland with him but wasn’t. You. Since you had your own life and job, you were unable to fly out to Cleveland with him. Instead you stayed at your shared home with Tessa as company. All he needed was you when he felt the affects of Cherry caging in on him. Just the sound of your comforting voice over the phone could clear his head and make him breath again.

He had his bad days on set, where he would have to take a moment and hide in his trailer for a few minutes. During those few minutes he liked to be alone as he waited for you to answer your phone. The line would ring, it’d stop, then the sound of your sweet voice would be the only thing he’d hear. Sometimes you didn’t answer the first time, but nonetheless you answered eventually. It wasn’t the same as having you with him in person, you had your responsibilities, and he understood that. He just wished that one day you’d come to Cleveland. He wanted to be in your arms, stuff his face into your neck, breath in your familiar scent, he just wanted to feel you. You were his home. His safe haven. And it was all he wanted right now.

•

Glancing at your phone, you wondered why Tom hasn’t texted you yet. Not that you were itching for him to text you, but because around this time he would be blowing up your phone telling you things that happened during filming or how his day was going. You decided that filming probably went into overtime making him busy during his break. You shrug to yourself and continue working on your laptop.

You hear the sound of Tessa’s nails clicking against the floors as she enters the office of your home. You greet her with a smile as she settles herself beside your legs.

“Is it dinner time already, Tess?” You scratch her head as you glance at the time on your screen. It was currently nine at night, a bit late for dinner, but you haven’t noticed.

“Just give me five more minutes and I’ll get us dinner. How does that sound, love?” A somewhat sound of approval emits from Tessa. You get back to work, fingers typing away as you finish off the last of your work.

You finish in four minutes, finally satisfied with your work. You let out a content sigh and turn your laptop off. When you get up you stretch and let your bones crack after being in the same position for hours. Tessa joins you, stretching out her front paws then shaking her body out. You chuckle as you lead the way to the kitchen. Taking the scoop for Tessa’s kibble, you fill her bowl up, causing the dog to look up in curiosity. Once you placed the bowl down, her tail wagged wildly as she stuffed her face into her food.

You decided on going for something simple, ramen noodles. You were too tired too cook anything and ramen noodles were the quickest thing to cook in your pantry. While you waited for the noodles to heat up you checked your phone. You went through your notifications, but there were still no texts from Tom. Though you were concerned, you assumed that they had a long shooting day, making him too busy to text. 

Hi love! I hope you’re doing well in Cleveland. I know you’re probably busy, but hopefully filming isn’t tiring you out too much. Have an amazing day! Don’t forget to drink some water from time to time and eat :) Tess and I miss you and love you so much! Talk soon xxx

You send the text with a smile. He won’t read it till he was free or done with filming, but you knew he’d see the message while you were asleep.

The microwave beeps, letting you know that your food was done. You end your night catching up on episodes of New Girl and eating soup. When you were done you did your nightly routine and settled in bed. You turn the lights off and snuggled under the warm sheets.

“Night Tessa.” You whisper to her. A huff comes out of her as she makes herself comfortable on the foot of your bed. When the both of you were settled, you slowly drifted off to sleep.

Buzz

Buzz

The harsh vibrations of your phone shook you awake. Desperate for sleep, you blindly grab your phone and turn it off. Silence fills the room again as you turn around to stuff your face into Tom’s pillow. You were slowly drifting back to sleep when your phone began to vibrate again. With a groan you stretch back and snatch for phone off the night stand. You don’t bother looking at the caller id.

“Hello?” Your voice rasps out.

“Thank God you answered.” The person on the other line said. “I know you’re busy, but how soon can you visit Cleveland?” The deep voice was belonged to Harry.

“Uh—I’m not too sure, I’ll need to check in with my boss.” You reply. When you start feeling more awake you become curious as to why Harry can be calling you. “Why? Is everything ok? How’s Tom? I haven’t heard from him all day.”

The younger Holland sighs. He takes a moment to answer your questions making you suffer in silence, wondering what could have happened to your boyfriend. “Um, they’ve been shooting some intense scenes lately. Tom’s been trying his best but everyone’s noticed that he’s been a bit different.”

You sit up in bed feeling more awake. “What do you mean by different, Haz?”

“Well he’s snapped at the Russos quite a few times. There was this one scene, that they shot multiple times, and Tom would just break down after every one. (Y/n), I’m concerned for my brother, I don’t know what else to do. He’s locked himself in his room after every shoot. A—and I don’t know. I’ve tried to tell him that he can talk to me but he wouldn’t.” Harry explained, his voice croaked. You heart felt heavy for him. Harry was always there for his older brother, so to see him feel so helpless made you feel sorry.

“Haz, calm down, you know how your brother can get. How long has this been happening?”

Harry sniffed over the phone, “About a few weeks now. It’s only started becoming worse last week and now.”

The concern you felt for Tom grew. From what he’s been texting you, filming had been going great. He appeared happy on your FaceTime calls and sounded like his usual self. But maybe he actually wasn’t.

“Harry everything’s gonna be fine, alright?” You assure him. “I’ll call my boss first thing in the morning and when I get the ‘ok’ to leave I’ll get the first flight out to Cleveland. How’s that sound?”

“It sounds good. Can you tell me if you can make it? I’ll have someone come with me to pick you up at the airport.” His voice is quiet, almost muffled.

“Yeah I will, don’t worry.”

“Ok, thank you (y/n).” A small smile forms on your lips. You rub the sleep out your eyes as you glance at your closet. “Alright Haz, I’m gonna go now. But if there’s anything else, just text me or call.”

“I know, stay safe (y/n).” You bid him goodbye and place your phone on the empty space beside your side of the bed. Tom’s side of the bed. You bite your lip in thought as you worry about your boyfriend. You knew he was doing almost everything he can to make sure the movie came out perfect. If that meant shredding himself emotionally and physically, he was going to do it. Tom was dedicated to his work, but he’s never done anything close to Cherry, making you worried about the thoughts that could possibly be going through your lover’s head.

Tessa, who’s now woken up, waddles closer to you, sensing your uneasiness. You appreciate the dog’s gesture and pull her into your side, resting your chin on her head. You were basically sleepless the whole night. Although you haven’t emailed your boss yet, you already had a suitcase packed of your clothes. Your passport and other important belongings were already in a bag, ready to leave London.

The morning had been hectic. You’ve managed to get two hours of sleep, waking up at six in the morning. Still in bed, you sent your boss an email about a family emergency and how you needed to be out of the country for at least a week. As if the gods above knew of your situation, your boss willingly let you go, no questions asked and gave you well wishes. With that out the way, you scowered the Internet for flights to Cleveland. Luck was on your side that morning because you’ve booked a flight that took off in the afternoon. With your bags packed, you drove to Nikki and Dom’s to drop off Tessa.

Now all checked in, you were at Heathrow Airport waiting to be called for your flight. You were sat at your gate, with an iced coffee and a croissant from Starbucks, texting Harry. The two of you were discussing the time you’d arrive and how he’d pick you up. When you were both in agreement, you two decided to catch up. He had been in Tom’s trailer eating his breakfast. An hour passes and you were being called to board the plane.

You settle in your seat, but your leg bounced in anticipation. After the things Harry told you, you just wanted to have your boyfriend in your arms. You knew everything was probably getting to his head, all you wanted to do was hold him and tell him that he was going to be ok. As the plane began to take off, your lack of sleep caught up on you. Throughout the whole flight, you slept soundly, the worries of Tom subsiding for the time being.

~🛬~

The plane lands in Cleveland safely. It was night when you arrived. With your bags, you looked around the airport for a familiar curly haired boy. Harry waves wildly at you before running and pulling you into a tight hug. You laugh wrapping your arms around the slender boy.

“How’s your day been, Haz?” You ruffle his hair as he rolls your suitcase to the parking lot. He shrugs, “The usual. Was on set with Tom, ran around and got things for him, nothing much happened honestly. But you’re here now, so this is the highlight of my night.”

The two of you approach a black car with a driver inside, Harry motions for him to unlock the trunk. He lifts your case in before the two of you get into the backseat.

“How was your flight?” Harry asks you. The car began to move, exiting the airport and entering the highway.

“I slept through all of it, I don’t remember a thing about the flight besides getting on and off it.” You chuckle, leaning your head back against the headrest.

Harry nudges your shoulder, “Thanks for coming out with such short notice.” You wave him off. “It’s no worries, anything for my boys.”

The car is quiet, the only sounds that could be heard is the car’s wheels against the pavement. You turn to Harry, “How was he today?”

“He was pretty good in the morning.” Harry started. “Then filming started and he would grow frustrated after a few scenes. His temper’s been short. He snapped at me during lunch, which is normal, but I just asked him if he wanted some water. He broke down after a certain scene today, I tried talking to him but he still wouldn’t open up about it.” Tom wasn’t too open about his feelings sometimes. He struggled to voice them at times making all his frustrations and feelings bottled up in his head.

Half an hour later and you guys arrive at Tom’s rented home in Atlanta. As soon as you opened the door, you felt the heavy atmosphere. It was somber and tense, the chilliness of the weather also felt inside the house. Harry gestures up the stairs, “Don’t worry, go see him. His room is the first door on the left.”

You quietly thank him and climb up the stairs. You find his door, taking a deep breath before knocking. You hear some shuffling behind the door, “Harry I’m fine! Leave me alone!” His voice was deep, a bit scratchy. You frown at the door.

“Tom?” The room falls quiet. Suddenly you hear fumbling and the sound of heavy footsteps behind the door. The door opens and you finally see him. He was dressed in a large shirt with sweatpants. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, eyes glassy, and chapped lips.

“(Y/n)? You’re here?” He asks you in disbelief. A tight lipped grin forms on your lips.

“Yeah, Har—“ You were going to explain how you got there but he immediately threw himself at you. His arms wrap tightly around your figure, his head dipped into your neck, pulling your closer into him. One of your arms go around his neck while the other rubs his back soothingly. A whimper bubbles out of him, his shoulders beginning to shake. You managed to shuffle the both of you back into his room, closing the door behind you.

“You’re ok.” You whisper into his ear, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. His grip around you never falters. Though he was much taller than you, he seemed so small at the moment. His body drowned in the shirt he wore, making him look thinner. You feel tears soaking into your shirt, making your heart clench in pain. You rest your forehead against his shoulder, holding and whispering sweet nothings into his ear until he was ready to speak.

A few minutes pass until his removes his head from your neck. You frown at his tear stained face, his eyes and cheeks red from quietly sobbing into your shoulder. Your hands cup his face, wiping the trails of tears on his cheeks. Tom leans closer to your touch, his eyes shut while his lips kiss your palm.

“I’m sorry, you’re probably tired from the flight.” He apologizes but you shake your head. You lead him to his bed and sit against the headboard. Tom follows in suit, desperately trying to get closer to you. His arms wrap around your torso, his head rests on your chest, while your legs tangle themselves together.

“I’ve had plenty of sleep on the flight, how are you?” Your lips are against his short hair from holding him so close. You nails scratch softly at his hair, calming him down.

“I don’t know if I could finish it.” He quietly admits. He shakes his head at himself.

“Why’s that, Tom?” Your boyfriend takes a deep breath as he sits up, removing himself from your touch. He sits across from you with legs crossed as he holds his head in his hands.

“I—I, it’s too much. There’s so much fucked up things he’s done. And all the things he’s seen. I just—sometimes I feel like it’s me who’s committed all of those things. When we shoot the scenes in the war and when I had to do drugs and rob banks, I felt like I lost myself—“ He cries interrupting himself to take a breath in. Compared to your fingers that ran gently through his hair, his clawed at his head. His palms rub harshly at his face, turning his skin a bright tint of red. To see Tom in such pain made you sad. You hated seeing him like this.

You gently remove his hands from scratching at his face and hold them in his lap. He stares down at your hands, clinging onto them as if his life depended on it. “I get lost in the character sometimes and I have to pull myself out of it to bring me back. But it keeps on happening over and over again. Then the Russos kept telling me to reshoot the scene more like Cherry, and I lost it and yelled at them.” You feel his tears fall to your your hands, making tears well up in your own eyes. You shuffle closer to him and kiss his forehead before pulling him into you. You stay quiet, letting him get whatever he wanted to get out.

Tom’s face is against your shoulder again. He sniffs before continuing, “It’s like everyday I find something he and I have in common. Then I think that maybe I’m turning into him. I don’t want him to be part of me. (Y/n), I don’t want to be him, I don’t want to do the things he’s done.” He sobs into your shoulder. Your heart breaks at how broken he sounded. His shoulders shook again, his back burning up with tension. A few tears made it’s way down your cheeks as you pulled his face away from you.

“Look at me.” You urged him. His jaw clenched, still looking down at his lap. He shook his head in response. “Tom, please. Look at me.” Your voice cracks. He slowly tilts his head up, your eyes connecting. He didn’t have that twinkle in his eyes, it’s like they’ve lost the light in them. Instead they were dark, like there was no life behind them. There was a mix of sadness, confusion, and even fear in his eyes.

You sadly smiled at him, cupping his face with your hands. “You’re not going to be him. You never will. You’re Tom. You are nothing close to Nico or Cherry. You are the sweetest man I have known in the world, you wouldn’t even hurt a damn fly. You’re not him. I know you aren’t. You wouldn’t do the things he’s ever done even if you were forced to. I know you Tom, I assure you, you’re nothing like him.” Tom hiccups, gripping onto your wrists.

“When this is all over and you’re done filming, we can forget about him. We won’t even mention him.” You assure him, stroking his cheeks.

“What if—,” You cut him off.

“No, there’s no what if’s. You’re going to be fine Tom. You’re surrounded by people who love you and will make you realize that you’re nothing even near him. You are the kindest man ever, you love your family, you care about your fans, and your brothers. You’re busy always taking care of everyone else, I think it’s time you take care of yourself, love.” You tell him. A small smile is on your face but it falters, “You don’t have to go through this alone, Tom.”

Tom takes a shaky breath in. “You’ll be there right?” He asks like a child making sure his mother will be there when he wakes up. “You’ll be there with me to bring me back?”

Your thumb smooths the crinkle between his brows, “I always will. I promise.” He nods and pulls you into him. You climb onto his lap and settle on his legs. He stares up at you, one of his his hands supporting your back, the other pressed against your cheek. “Thank you. I missed you so much. I’m sorry for not texting, everything’s just been so taxing mentally and physically.”

“No, don’t worry I get it.” You turn your face to press a light kiss on his palm. For the first time since you’ve seen him, Tom managed to crack a smile on his lips. He moves some strands of hair away from your face before resting his large hand on the back of your head. “I love you. I love you so much, (y/n).”

“I love you too, Tom.” You whisper against his lips. He takes that as a sign to finally crash your lips together. After months being apart, the feeling of his lips against yours felt like coming home. The kiss was desperate, like it was the air you both breathed. Tom had been longing for your touch, he craved you every second of the day, whether it be sexually or just missing you. The kiss grew rough, your teeth clashing, tongues poking and gliding against each other.

Tom lays you down on the bed, hovering over you. His hands grab and stroke at your body, trying to pull off your clothes to get close to your skin. He suddenly pulls away from your lips. “I need you. Please, I need you.” He almost begs you. Panting, you nod and push him to lay on his back. “Ok, let me take care of you, Tommy.”

He yanks his shirt off, throwing it to the side. You do the same, leaning down to meet his lips again. You kiss your way along his jaw and down to his neck. When you find that certain spot, he lets out a throaty groan, head falling back against the pillows. You run your nails along his chiseled abs and slightly roll your hips against his growing length. Tom grunts, hands instantly connecting to your ass and gripping onto your cheeks. He helps you roll your hips more, deeper with more friction against you two.

“Mm, Tom. I missed you.” You moan against his neck. You bite down and soothe the spot with your tongue after.

Tom looks down at you, lifting his hips to meet your clothes pussy. “Fucking miss you so much. You have no idea how much I’ve been dreaming of being buried in you again.” You kiss your way down his chest, but Tom stops you. His hands grab onto your leggings and slide them off.

“N-no foreplay. I need to feel you.” He stutters out, mouth agape. You nod in agreement and take his sweatpants off along with his boxers. You spit in your hand, running your hand along his dick to give it some wetness. Tom helps you lift yourself over him and guides your hips down his erected cock. You let out a combination of a sigh and moan as your walls envelop and stretch around him. Tom slightly sits up against the headboard, your tightness wrapping around him. He lets out a cry of relief, your walls around him feeding his cravings. You use his shoulders as leverage to pull yourself up but Tom stops you.

“What’s wrong?” You eye him cautiously. Tom shakes his head, “Nothing’s wrong. I just—can we stay like this for a while? I just want to feel you, please?”

“Yeah, we can do that.” You send him a reassuring smile as you settle back down on him. His hands make themselves comfortable around your waist. You maneuver your arms under his and wrap them around his back. Tom smiles at you, rubbing your back and guiding you into his chest. Before you can nuzzle your face into his neck, he presses a kiss to your temple and lets his fingers get tangled in your hair.

With his eyes closed in bliss, he whispers, “Thank you for bringing me back. I love you.”

You kiss his collarbone basking in the feeling him being so close to you. “I’ll always be here. I love you too.”