#it was a little unsettling ngl

[franollie]

gave myself some half-points :)

crossover today.

[all-thestories-aretrue]

Why do I feel like that was level 1 of this massive fight 😭 this does not bode well. I will now have an overwhelming sense of dread for the next two weeks. Love that for me 🙃

[acaplaya-musings]

The Toymaker

(Based off of the video for Voiceplay's cover of Golden Hour, in case it wasn't immediately obvious)

The Toymaker had always had a gift for creation - above and beyond things like puppets you had to move using strings connected to a wooden frame, or dolls you could only have a conversation with if you did all the talking - but this was still going to be her biggest and most ambitious project yet: she was going to make The Perfect Man.

For the most part, The Toymaker didn't mind being by herself, and was more than used to finding ways to keep herself busy, but she couldn't help wondering on the odd occasion about what it might be like to have someone to keep her company; someone to share her ideas with, someone to greet her in the morning and wish her sweet dreams at night. All the half-decent men in the village, however, were either already taken, or only took interest in her when she made something new, and that was only until the novelty began to wear off. The Toymaker wasn't good at making friends, either; the other women in the village rarely seemed to share her enthusiasm for her latest contraptions, and she found little sympathy when discussing her desire for a relationship. However, it was a quip from one of the village ladies that had given her the idea:

"If you're so good at making things, then why don't you make yourself a husband?"

This hadn't sounded like a completely genuine/kind comment, but regardless, a lightbulb had lit up in her head, and as soon as she returned to her workshop, she began sketching and planning.

The face was what she started with, and after a bit of brainstorming (and a few nights with more used-up candles than hours of sleep), The Toymaker had created 5 different heads, which she placed on stands, side-by-side, on a table in the main workroom. She had experimented with appearances, from short hair to long hair to bald; from clean-shaven to a full beard, not to mention all the other differences between them, but she liked to keep her options open.

The heads weren't technically alive, yet (or not fully, at least), but The Toymaker still gently closed each pair of eyes before she went to bed at night, and "awakened" them each morning. It often seemed like the heads would watch her when she moved back and forth in their field of vision, though she never felt unsettled by it. Or maybe it was just a trick of the light the whole time, but sometimes, when she was having a cup of coffee or reading in another room, The Toymaker swore she could hear soft singing coming from the main workroom; five different voices, echoing the kind of music she would occasionally sing or hum to herself when hard at work.

The legs were the next main component to be designed (long, but not overly lanky), followed by the arms (strong, but not excessively brawny). Then The Toymaker spent some time tailoring some clothes for her creation to wear, just as she had done for herself many a time. As she worked, the Toymaker thought about which head she was going to choose. She felt like she had grown somewhat fond of all five of them, as strange as it sounded even to herself sometimes. Maybe she could make bodies for all of them, if this first creation was a success. And after all, her new man might get lonely and want friends, and what better friends than those that started off in the same circumstances as you? But she couldn't get too ahead of herself. The Toymaker had designed a body, and now she had to choose a head to connect to it, and there was one in particular that she couldn't stop thinking about...

The heads weren't fully alive (or weren't supposed to be, anyway), so she was unsure whether or not they actually slept when she closed their eyelids each night. But regardless, The Toymaker waited until early morning the next day, when the heads still had their eyes closed, to gently and quietly lift up the head furthest on the right, and carry it over to the body she had made, which she had seated at a table in another room, where she often had her meals and drank coffee. She had ensured her design included strong lungs and a good-sized voicebox, inspired by the vocal melodies she sometimes heard from the workroom. Even if she had just been imagining them the whole time, it would be quite nice to have someone who might sing to her from time to time.

The Toymaker was an artisan, not a scientist, and so the body looked more like that of a large and overly-detailed marionette rather than a human, but that was no matter. As she gave the head a light kiss on the forehead, and joined the neck to the shoulders, The Toymaker's framework of wood, cloth, and string, turned into real flesh and bone. The chest rose and fell, taking its first breaths, and the head, now part of a full man, blinked his eyes as he came to. He looked up at her, wide-eyed and with innocent curiosity, before turning his attention to the rest of himself. The man slowly raised one hand, and then the other, turning them back and forth in front of his face, while The Toymaker took a seat opposite him at the table. She offered him her outstretched hand, quietly unsure of how he would respond, but the man placed his hand in hers, and smiled. It was a slightly-stretched, toothy smile of someone who has never tried smiling before, but it was still incredibly endearing, and The Toymaker saw sincerity in his hazel eyes.

And as the rays of dawn shone through the window, painting the room in a golden glow, The Toymaker knew that it didn't matter whether he really was "perfect" or not; this was the man she wanted to spend her days with.

[akkivee]

they promised to each other that dotsuitare hompo was going to reach the top this time 😭😭😭😭😭

[mahou-no-ichigo]

happy valentine's day!

[that-starlight-prince]

How are you?

I'm fine

[ficandkaboodle]

I was gonna make a little shitghost post poking fun at how uncanny it would actually be to slowly wake up to the Papa of your choice gazing lovingly at you, because their left eye is so jarring (and because eyes can be an issue for me personally).

But then I went to find photographs to back this argument up

And I realized

Nah: It’s literally just fucking Terzo

Literally just

Primo’s eyes are just grumpy old man. Secondo’s eyes are grumpier old man who can be consoled with a hot toddy (and tiddy) and a nap. And Copia just looks like a puppy cocking its head at the camera.

Don’t get me wrong, Terzo can definitely look normal and chill, and not he’s not scary every time he does that with his eyes. But Ngl if I woke up to this

Words would be had. Probably mostly apologies from me reflexively smacking him but.

I’m also tossing this in here but imo Terzo has the scariest command over his eyes. The shit he be doing in “He Is” besides the above image is unsettling, and I think he knows it.

[faeriichaii]

Hi!! Can you write something fluffy between Legolas and a female human reader? Even though Legolas has been around for a while, he is always watching the reader because he wants to learn about her little quirks and customs. The reader is always like “uhhh Aragorn why is he just staring” but Legolas reveals that it’s cause he finds her cute and wants to get to know her more while they’re together on the fellowship :)

Little Quirks ~ Legolas x Fem!Human!Reader

A/N: Ahh I missed writing for Legolas haha!! At this point he is like a major part of my life lmao <33 Ngl this took me longer than normal? Maybe I got a little rusty during my little time off haha rip but yeah here you go I hope you like it!!

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: fluff ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 1.3k ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Meleth Nin ~ My Love ࿐ྂ

Summary: The elven prince for some reason couldn't stop staring at you, which in return made you confused and very curious, as to why his eyes were constantly following you around.

Legolas tilted his head to the side, smile gracing his lips, as his eyes focused on the way you polished your weapons to perfection. The dagger in your hand reflecting the bright fire in front of you, while you rubbed a cloth against the handle. A few gems were embedded into the metal, giving it some colour. You can’t quite remember when you got the dagger, but you knew you would be incredibly upset if you ever lost it. Holding it out in front of you, you inspected it for any kind of grime or dirt that still could be there. While doing so you notice that the elven prince has been staring at you for quite a while. He always seems to be staring at you, no matter what you were doing. It not just confused you, but also made you feel unsettled to some extent. “I hope you don’t mind me taking up the space beside you.” Aragorn said, as he made himself comfortable on the log beside you. His sword was on his lap, as he began to clean it off of the dried blood from the battle of a few hours ago.

“Of course not.” You placed your polished dagger into the leather holster that was secured on your thigh, before grabbing your own sword to take care of it as well. Taking a quick glance towards Legolas, you notice that his attention was now on Gimli, who seems to be mentioning one of his stories to him. “You know the elven prince well, right Aragorn?” You asked him, while running the cloth against the metal. “I wouldn’t say that I know him well, but I do know him longer than most of the fellowship do.” He sat his sword aside, before turning towards you. “What is on your mind?” “Well, I have noticed that he always seems to be watching me, no matter what I do. Like for example last week.”

Standing in front of the pot, you stirred it with the wooden spoon before adding a few more leaves. Normally Sam would be the one in your place, however you insisted to take his place for the night and make everyone one of your favourite dishes. You added in the few chopped vegetables you had prepared earlier. Noticing a certain gaze on your figure, you looked up from the dinner you were making. Legolas smiled softly at you, before lowering his gaze from you. You didn’t think much about it, until you took another glance into his direction and caught him again.

“Is everything alright Legolas?” “Yes, of course.” He said, his eyes never leaving you once. After a bit of more stirring, you poured a little of the stew into the bowls, before handing them out. Walking over to Legolas, you sat beside him before giving him his own food. “I really liked the song you hummed.” You tilted your head to the side at his statement, not really understanding what he meant. He noticed your puzzled expression, smiling gently at you. “You were humming while you prepared the dinner.” “Oh- I did not notice.” A soft embarrassed blush dusted your cheeks. “I hope it did not disturb you in any way. I normally hum only at home but I guess I was so much at ease that it just happened.” “Like I said (Y/N), I really enjoyed it. Maybe you could teach me the song sometime.”

“That does sound completely normal to me. He just enjoyed the melody.” You huffed at Aragorns statement. You knew that this sounded like it was nothing special. But it was not the only time you caught him staring a little longer.

You were standing in front of one of the many stalls of a small town. The fellowship decided to take a quick tour through the closest town, in order to stack up on some essentials needed for your travels. Of course, you tried to focus only on things you really needed for the journey, however the shiny jewels from the table beside the one you were currently browsing through caught your attention. “Welcome young lady, what can I do for you today?” You gazed upon the silver and golden necklaces that were laid out in front of you. “How much would that be?” You asked the merchant, holding up a golden bracelet, that had a little heart charm attached to it. “Around 30 coins.” You bit your lip in thought at his answer, only having so many coins in your little pouch. “I will be thinking about the offer, thank you.” Putting the bracelet back onto the table, you made your way towards another one. This one sold various items like books, as well as scrolls, bags, pouches, brooches and other little trinkets. Taking a beautiful hand mirror into your hand, you looked at your reflection. You noticed a familiar elven prince in the background, who seems to be looking into your direction. Tilting your head, you stared back at him through the reflection.

After a while of staring back at him, you put the mirror back onto the table and decided to approach him. As soon as he noticed you, a smile graced his lips. “Have you already gotten everything you needed?” He asked you, as you stood beside him. “Well, not really. But I have been wondering something else.” You tilted your head to the side as you mustered him. A smile was still present on his lips, as he mirrored your movement. “Why have you been staring at me again?” “Have I?” “Yes!” At this point you believe he was mocking you. You caught him through the mirror and he still tries to deny it. “I think you are mistaken.” He said, giving your shoulder a soft pat before joining Aragorn at one of the stalls.

“And what if you really were mistaken?” “I was not! Aragorn, I know that he has been staring at me not just those two times! He stares at me while I eat, while I talk, while I polish my gear, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was staring at me now.” The both of you turned towards the elven prince, who in fact was looking at you once more. “See? I would just want to know why he does it.” Aragorn let out a lough at your desperate sigh. “I am pretty sure that you will get your answer very soon.” And with that he stood up and left you alone.

After finishing up polishing your weapons, you decided to approach the elven prince once more to try and get answers to your questions. “Hey Legolas, can we maybe talk?” You asked him, while taking a seat beside him. “Of course, what is on your mind?” “I have noticed you were staring quite a lot at me. Is there a reason behind it?” A chuckle left his lips, as he grabbed your hand gently. Warmth spread over your cheeks at the soft touch. “I really enjoy watching you (Y/N). Not in an unsettling way! I just love to see you react to specific things. Or how your eyes shine when you find something you like at one of the stalls. Or how you just sometimes have that little jump in your step when you are really excited.”

Your face was red, as you nodded to each of the words that passed his lips. “I think your quirks are so interesting and so cute. You always catch me off guard.” A smile graced your lips, as you squeezed his hand. You didn’t know he felt so drawn towards you. “For example, right now. Your eyes are shining brighter than the stars above.” His finger graced your warm cheek, as he brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I want to get to know you more and understand you better with every passing day.” “I will only allow it, if you let me study you as well.” You answered boldly, earning you a laugh from Legolas. “Of course, Meleth Nin. Anything that your heart desires.”

[radioactivesweet]

can i request poseidon x ExiledGod!S/o whose the God of Life and Nature and protector of living things? They give him pretty flowers and their voice is soothing and calming, a baby would fall asleep listening to their voice. They were exiled to earth in the mortal realm for disobeying a law, so they lived forever in earth in a secluded forest and helps hikers or a passerby.

this sounds like such a cute concept!!! hope you'll like it^^ I might have gone a bit off track ngl

Behind his expressionless façade, Poseidon was quite unsettled when he first heard the news: you had been exiled to the mortal realm. He wasn't expecting you, out of all the gods he knew, to be given this punishment... no, deep down, he knew that was something you have been longing for. It wouldn't surprise him if he were to discover that you disobeyed the rules on purpose. You have always been quite unusual, after all.

Most gods look down on humans, Poseidon first and foremost. Somehow you loved, you protected them - respected even To someone like Poseidon it was an unconceivable thought - he couldn't bring himself to respect his fellow gods, whom he deemed as vile and cowards, much less humans. Despite your differences, he respected you, who needn't allies nor schemed, who loved unconditionally without asking for anything in return. He didn't necessarily approve of your beliefs, nor he did care to correct you - yet, after you had been exiled, Poseidon found himself more and more often wandering around the mortal realm.

"I've been missing you too", you greeted him with a smile while his brows furrowed, missing you? You must have misunderstood him. "I was just passing by", he explained, despite it being unreasonable for someone like him to be just "passing by". You seemed healthy, heaalthier than the last time he had meet you in the Heavens - wherever you'd walk, flowers and grass would grow beneath your feet, life would thrive all around you, making it spring all year long... and it all seemed to be amplified now that you were on Earth. He thought you were beautiful under the gentle light of the sun, finally at peace.

You welcomed him in your lair, a cottage in the middle of the woods, a place where those were lost could find refuge, where nature blossomed undisturbed - a peaceful coexistance between men and the rest of the natural world, something which gods considered to be unattainable. Something only you could make possible.

At first his visits were sporadic, it would be years before he would come back and visit you, then it became a matter of months... then you'd be counting the days in between your meetings. Sometimes you were surrounded by humans who couldn't find their way out of the forest, other times you were looking after a group of childreen, singing lullabies in moonlit nights, some other time animals were listening to you as if you were part of their pack. The essence of a deity, not through power, but through love, a feeling he had rarely been able to perceive. He could almost feel it warming his chest whenever you smiled at him or told him some kind word. The most anomalous god he had ever met, definitely.

He heard them, the so called "gods", talking idly about you, for leading that unconventional existance, as if you were the first deity banished in a far-away land, while they poured wine in golden goblets wasting their immortality chatting in their opulent palaces, without a care, "gods" who would hide behind him as soon as a minor accident occured. Those were not worthy of that title, you, who they costantly belittled, were. Your kindness, unparalleled, you, who had all humans virtues, but none of their flaws. Time would pass, yet you would remain unchanged. Poseidon, though, could feel himself changing a little bit every time he would meet you - slowly, but you noticed it too. Patiently, even the toughtest of stones is eroded by waterdrops.

[akanemnon]

I love how we can see the head grow back

I was a little worried that showing it might be a bit unsettling ngl. But then again, the shadow in the panel right after isn't exactly pretty to look at either lol

[hanihazeljade]

TikTok Tim

TikTok has been a blast and of course, Richard has been bothering Tim to make an account for siblings bonding. But Tim got himself a newfound confidence and a new way to irritate the people around him.

(CW: thirst traps, TikTok, possible femboy content, swearing)

"Can we just talk about Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne?" A TikToker with million followers said, "Like this dude is seventeen turning eighteen in like 3 months and what he done in his almost 18 years of existence?" It showed a screenshot of a headline way back when he was attending grade school that he skipped two grades, "He skipped 2 years in school and even though he dropped for two years, because some tragedy happen in his life, he still managed to graduate high school the same year in his age range." Which is true, but with all hacking the school systems, he graduated.

"And I also discovered that he is emancipated from his foster parent, Bruce Wayne. Like at first it was insane because you got the Wayne to finance you but look at him, he is one of the biggest shareholder in the Wayne Enterprise and he already got so many praise especially from Lex Luthor," and then screen showed a clip of Lex saying, "I commend the young Drake-Wayne, even he doesn't have any degree in business, he knows how to handle one unlike some people that I know that have bachelors degree. But if you think about it, it must be in his blood after all his mother is Janet Drake, that woman is the scariest socialite in Gotham." And the screen turned back to the TikToker, "Dude doesn't have any degree yet get a praise from Lex Luthor? He is a genius I tell you." and with that the TikTok video ended.

It all started with that one video on how perfect and genius Timothy Jackson Drake. And it snowballed to edits, a thirst trap if you will, of Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. One TikTok video and the whole internet has been sleuthing every single picture, video of the new most eligible bachelor of Gotham City. And with that, #tim drake on TikTok have millions of views in span of 2 days. And it also doesn't help that Tim's life has been exposed in the different tabloids since he was a kid, being a member of a elite society especially in Gotham. He doesn't really know and care but with so many people doing a deep dives in his life, it kind of unsettling.

He scrolled again and it was a thirst trap edit. And he decided to exit the app, enough internet for the day.

"Timmmyy." Dick whined as he was begging Tim to make a TikTok account for 1, he can do those trends with Tim and two, he wants Tim to see those thirst traps edit of himself and it has been seven days straight. And Tim's patience has been wearing thin.

"I will, once I finished these reports." he said with no intention of doing it and gonna said that he forgot about it.

"No, do it now. I know your schemes, Timmy." Tim sighed with the insistence, "Then come back here later for you to remind me then."

++++++

"So, my brother Richard has been keep bothering me to make one of this account and apparently, many people tried to make a little clout so I am going to make one to gather all the clout." Tim said with a blank stare but let out a snort at the last part. "I will probably never upload anything again but yep, hope you are happy, Richard." and with that the video ended. 2 hours later after that video got uploaded, his account boomed to 2.3 million and his first video got featured in some internet forums and articles were being published online.

++++++

"And he finally succumbed to the Tiktok." Jason said as soon as he walked to his penthouse and Tim rolled his eyes.

"What are you doing here, oh mighty Jason?" Tim rolled his eyes, sarcasm is dripping to those words.

"I thought you are better than Dick but it seems like I was mistaken."

"Pot. Kettle. Just because I was on the side of edit Tiktok and you are in booktok doesn't make you the top. You are giving pick-me vibes, ngl."

"Did you really just said ngl instead of not gonna lie?"

"Did I stutter?"

++++++

Tim thought it will be cool if he just upload another Tiktok video after months of abandoning his account. He look at the trends and some old trends and he particularly got stuck in the transition videos and he took liking on the one audio edit of Jade West saying, "What's the prob, dog?", and he is a gremlin for a reason.

So, he was there chuckling at himself with the thought of the internet will never know what's gonna hit them.

+++++++

Tim likes to do a little bit of thirst traps in his content but he also like just to gave his audience what he does in his free time whenever he is done reading and signing the needed papers, like typing in his computer or solving a rubiks cube. And he keeps getting millions of views every time and it is such a ego boost for him.

But he also likes the videos with prominent people in United States, most is just him and Lex Luthor doing stupid shits and every time it will happen, both the stocks of WE and Lex Corp is going up and somehow that made both Tim and Lex being close yet hating each other so much.

The Justice League, specifically Superman, is very much annoyed and not happy about Tim's association to one of the prominent villains in the existence. But all Tim does is send them a lip sync video of him with the audio of, "Do I give a fuck? No, not one. How many fucks do I give? Zero. Exactly, so therefore your comment is irrelevant." And he called it a day. He is still fucking salty of about his worst year of his fucking life. He will not going to forgive those assholes when they didn't even apologise.

But somehow the limit of his TikTok freedom is having him doing a thirst trap in a form of being a femboy. Listen. Tim knows he will never be a brickhouse like Jason and Bruce but god forbid his BMI doesn't go up to 20 even in his peak body mass. He was always has been a twink and he also doesn't like that but apparently, that type of body is a perfect "bottom/submissive" material based on the different manhuas he having been indulge himself the past month.

++++++++

Dick was scrolling at his fyp page that was full of animals, gymnastics and Justice League edits - because, and he got in a video of a guy sitting on a red couch doing a simple transition of throwing his black shoe and then changing his casual fit to a more formal attire and it was a smooth transition on Dick's observation and he subconsciously goes to the comments because he wants a laugh at the thirsty comments.

Did anyone notice how smooth that transition is?

Lol, that is a big ass shoes

He is a mighty fine fella

WHY DOES NOBODY IS COMMENTING THAT THE ACCOUNT IS TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE-WAYNE?

Dick blinked once at that comment. And he blinked again. He closed the comments and swipe left. And the comment is right, it take him on Tim's verified account with now two videos.

When did Tim had a 5.6 million followers?!

Tim already on the same following count as him and he was still definitely gonna get more. Dick is now kind off regretting his decision if putting Tim in TikTok.

+++++++

The next month was shown that Tim doesn't have any schedule that follows his uploading, it seems like he upload wether he like. But the ones that broke the internet is the one thirst trap that Tim posted.

Ashley, look at me

Tim made the hand movements for the transition and from the Saint Laurent sweater, it is Jason's, Dick knows because he just saw Jason wear it like two days ago and it was paired with a black slacks and it turns into a oversized silk dress shirt and it looks like nothing underneath and Dick hopes that there is a boxers underneath because God forbids, he will delete Tim's TikTok account. In that video, it showcases Tim's long, pale, scarless legs, which is a fucking lie, he doesn't how Tim did it but that is a fucking lie. And oh boy was the comments are wild.

He is a sugar baby with the money of a sugar daddy

I'm straight but damn

yeah that's it, I'm bi now

I can hit that any time if he hit me up

Wait! I AM CONFUSED

Am I.. into this?

bottom vibes ngl

Dick stops reading the comments. TIM IS HIS LITTLE BROTHER! Sure he's nineteen but Dick felt uncomfortable looking at his brother's thirst trap, that he made himself. He immediately message Tim to stop posting thirst traps and Tim just reply with, 'Well, you have to face the consequences of forcing me to this damn app'.

He will be damned, he thought.

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

Congregation Of The Mind

Summary: You were Leon’s partner in Spain, belong to rescue the president’s daughter. But it all goes wrong when Leon and Ashley get infected and you had to confront Lord Saddler while also save Leon and Ashley.

Warning: fight scenes. supposed to be unsettling and more accurate (I think I got cooked ngl). There is no romance or smut, this is simply for the October people who like a little bit of uneasiness.

A/N: to my professor that makes everything about religion and gets mad at me for countering his arguments THIS ONE’S FOR U HOE🖕 (yes I’m petty and what about it)

“The creatures outside looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.” —Animal Farm, George Orwell

Pure. Pure. Pure.

The mind is a pure soul that gets tainted by those who refuse. Lord Saddler, in his mind, blesses the impure and turns them pure with his sacred gift. Las Plagas.

Millions of lives were lost to his cause, declaring that he is the one true God that will bring peace to the tainted world and will cleanse the evil out.

When Leon got sent to retrieve Ashley back from Spain, he definitely didn’t expect to meet such obscure and horrific situation. Zombified people, immortal aristocrats, and a bald guy who thinks he’s god. If you were to tell him before he went to Spain about what he’ll encounter, Leon would’ve scoffed and say that you were being dramatic.

But no. It wasn’t dramatic. It was the truth.

You stood behind Leon as he held his hand in front of him, trying to disarm Ashley. Both Ashley and Leon got infected with Las Plagas and Lord Saddler had wanted Ashley to kill Leon and submit to the virus.

You stood behind Leon, the room dimly lit as Leon’s arm was covered in dark veins, an indication that Leon had also received the same “gift.” Ashley stood in front of him, gun in hand and readily aimed at Leon but before she could follow through Saddler’s commands, you jump right in by taking Leon’s shoulder and pulling him back until you were in front.

“Damn you, Lord Saddler,” you said through gritted teeth. You’ve about had enough of this, you’re tired and you’re over Saddler’s shit, “Enough with your shit already!”

But Lord Saddler does not budge. The ends of his chapped lips curl up into a frightful smirk, revealing his yellow and decaying teeth, “My friend, I cannot give you my sacrificial lamb. The girl is vital for our faith.”

“Faith? You call all of this fate?!” You retaliated, anger cursing through your veins as Ashley grunts in attempts to resist Lord Saddler’s commands, same with Leon holding back behind you.

“Yes,” Lord Saddler continued, pacing left and right along with his staff and cloak as he spoke, “We believe in a better world and with this gift, we can achieve anything so long as we get our Holy Body.”

You scoff, “Holy Body? She’s just a girl! You’re robbing her of her own life, how does that relate to faith?”

“You may not understand now but you will soon once we give you the gift as well like your friend Mr. Kennedy,” Lord Saddler said as he pointed at Leon, eyes sunken with darkness as he glared at Saddler. Leon tries hard to resist and remains still, not wanting to succumb to his subordination.

“I’m… sorry,” Ashley whispered as best as she could before she pulled the trigger but terribly missed, or luckily. Once the sound of the bullet rang, you took that as your cue to intervene.

You quickly take Ashley’s arm and pull her towards you before throwing her behind you towards Leon, who manages to break from Lord Saddler’s control and catches her. With Ashley now safe, you take out your own gun and start shooting at Saddler while two summoners stood beside him.

The summoners began to make their way towards you, summoning Plagas and commanding them with psychotic influence but you were quick. You shot them in the head, their bodies falling limp on the floor as their lamps go out and the plagas die on the floor. Saddler stood there, seemingly unimpressed since he believed he still had control over Ashley and Leon behind you.

Which is exactly what he did. With his psychic abilities, Saddler commanded both Leon and Ashley to attack you.

“Let’s see how well of a person you are,” Saddler taunted as Ashley, against her will, stood straight in front of you with her hands fisted and ready to fight. Leon, however, had taken out his combat knife from his sheath. They stood in front of you, ready to attack while their faces were hard—they didn’t want to attack you.

“Make it stop!” Ashley yelled in agony as she attempted to swing at you but you dodged to the side, putting a hand behind her back to push her away while Leon tried to lunge at you with the knife to which you kicked his knee and watched him fall to the ground on one knee.

“Give in children!” Lord Saddler exclaimed, “Become one with the divine providence bestowed to us! I shall be your new God!”

You grunted as you were about to lunge towards Lord Saddler, only for him to use his psychic influence to make both Leon and Ashley hold you down by the arms, “You really think you’re a god, don’t you? You’re not a savior, you’re a monster!”

Lord Saddler stares down at you as he commanded Leon and Ashley to force you to kneel before him, “Monster? No, Y/L/N, I’m a force of nature. This gift—this power—it's meant to change everything.”

“Change? You mean turning people into mindless zombies? That’s not change, that’s destruction!” You yelled back, frustrated at the deluded man.

“It’s evolution! I’m giving them a chance to transcend their weaknesses. They’ll be stronger, united.”

“United? They lose their free will! You’re not uniting anyone, you’re enslaving them! How is that moral?” You narrowed your eyes at him, watching as he slowly walked towards you, “Morality is subjective! I see the bigger picture. Humanity is flawed, and I’m offering a solution.”

“A solution that comes with death and suffering! You’re preying on their fears, not saving them,” your words cut deep but they fell on deaf ears.

“You don’t understand the power of this gift,” Lord Saddler said as he stood in front of your kneeling form, “It’s not just about control, it’s about liberation from the mundane!”

“Liberation? You’re just using your power to play god! You’re hurting people. That’s evil.”

“Evil is a construct. They’ll thank me one day when they see the world as it truly is.”

“Thank you?!” You scoffed humorlessly, “They won’t be able to think or feel! You’re taking away their humanity!”

Lord Saddler scowled down at you, his eyes narrowing and his grip on his staff tightening, “And what has their humanity brought them? War, suffering, chaos. I’m offering a way out!”

“By making them into monsters? You’re deluded if you think this is for their good,” you tugged at your arms, attempting to break free from Ashley’s and Leon’s grasp, but to no avail. Saddler was making them hold you tight. A small smirk reached Lord Saddler’s lips, “Deluded?” He repeated.

“I’m the only one with the vision to see beyond the present. I can create a new world!” He leaned down towards you, grasping your jaw in his hands. You tried to move your head away but his grip was tight, “A world built on fear and loss. You’re not a creator, you’re a destroyer.”

He chuckled amusedly, “You’re scared, Y/L/N. You can’t see the potential. Join me, and together we could change everything!”

“You cling to outdated notions of morality while I forge a new path,” he continued, “Fight all you want, but in the end, I will prevail. This is evolution, and it’s already begun.”

“Not if I can’t help it,” you muttered before you harshly pushed Leon and Ashley behind you, both of them grunting in pain as they stutmbled backwards and you swung at Lord Saddler but he was quick. He quickly disappeared, his superhuman speed allowed him to move backwards and away from your target range. He was too quick.

“Come now, Ashley and Leon,” he said to them. The two of them tried to not walk towards Saddler, resisting against Lord Saddler’s command. This only made him angry, “Follow me you feeble humans!”

This was your chance while Lord Saddler was distracted, you took the gun that was dropped on the floor and shot Lord Saddler but he escaped before he could get hurt. As he escaped, his influence on Leon and Ashley disappeared and the two collapsed on the floor. You quickly went to check over them, making sure they were still breathing. Las Plaga was spreading fast and you needed to take them to the Laboratory Luis had mentioned earlier.

“Hang in there,” you muttered as you put Leon’s arms over your shoulders and an arm around Ashley’s waist. It would be hard work but you were determined to help the two of them throughout the castle. It couldn’t be that far, right?

-

Both Leon and Ashley got treated in the underground laboratory. Now, as Ashley stood on the sidelines by a cliff, it was time to face Lord Saddler’s horrific form. You and Leon were initially fighting but he only seemed to eat the bullet that penetrated his skin. It wasn’t until Ada showed up and helped.

Lord Saddler’s disgusting and slimy body attempted to swipe at you and Leon, barely dodging by a hair’s breadth. This was a tough fight but when Ada threw Leon a grenade launcher, it was checkmate. As Lord Saddler began to die, you ran towards Ashley to check on her while Ada took the sample.

A lot happened but now you were happy to go home, even if meant doubting yourself on your beliefs thanks to Saddler’s words.

After Ashley had been returned and you and Leon went back to headquarters to write a report, you couldn’t help but be a bit distracted.

Was Saddler doing the right thing by wanting to forge a new path without war? How nice it would be to live in a peaceful society—no, don’t think like that. Lord Saddler killed millions of innocent people and turned them against you and Leon during your mission.

“Hey,” a voice suddenly rang out and a hand shook your shoulder. It was Leon, “You okay?” He asked quietly, sitting in front of you on the other couch since you two were in the break room.

You nodded, rubbing your face with your hand as you sighed, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“Hm,” Leon hummed quietly as he observed you in silence. The mission had taken a toll on the two of you, it was surprising how you weren’t losing your head already, “That guy—Lord Saddler—he’s… I’ve never seen anything like him,” Leon muttered.

“You and me both. I’ve seen a lot of crazy shit in my life but never have I thought that we’d fight against a god wannabe. Should’ve known we’d find lunatics in the middle of nowhere in Spain,” you replied and looked back at him. The ends of his lips slightly curled into a small smirk, very faintly, “A little heads up would’ve been nice, yeah.”

Silence overtook you both once again but it wasn’t uncomfortable. So much happened in the mission and yet you two understood each other very well, “Wanna grab drinks later?” He asked bluntly.

You stared at him for a couple of seconds in silence before you shrugged your shoulders and nodded, “Fuck it, why not,” you muttered, mimicking a faint smirk on your lips like his.

Later that evening, as you and Leon went to grab drinks at a bar to forget about the mission, the thought still lingered in the back of your mind.

Lord Saddler had wanted to create a peaceful empire with Las Plaga, but what difference does he have by using destructive means when countries do the same thing under the pretext of saving humanity? Is the pretext of religion simply a way to pursue all means necessary to establish peace and combat threats like how you and Leon did?

Upon reaching the end of the night, bidding other bar customers that you knew, Lord Saddler’s face keeps haunting you. Taunting you with your thoughts as you could almost hear his voice, "When you acquired this power, you too will understand."

You swore you heard his voice but as you turned around before you could leave, he wasn’t there. It was just normal people drinking the night away. Goosebumps crawled up your arms and a shiver ran down your spine, but you brushed it off and walked out with Leon.

The presence of Lord Saddler only seemingly taken a following to you, feeling the touch of his sharp nails drag along your skin, feeling the coldness of his fingers as his voice continued whispering in your ear—forcing you to doubt yourself and spiral into a mania of paranoia.

Unbeknownst to you, his remnants lives in your brain. The voice commanding you to spiral into a haze of delusional and self-doubt.

You had become the sacrifice lamp.

[dadsbongos]

Heyyy (ノ^∇^)

Idk if you write for him, since I barely see any other writers write for him😔, but would you be willing to write for Toshiro? 🙏🙏🙏

I love that man soooooo so fucking much but there barely any concent of him where it's not about his fight with Laios and it's frustrating ngl-😭😭

A thought that has been in my brain for quite some time now, is like— sorta like an arrange marriage type of situation where they started off awkward but then one of them (in this case, Toshiro) started to have fallen head over heels for his spouse who has been secretly falling for him first

Just the thought of him, barely touching his spouse on their wedding night because they just got married to some stranger (probably, or maybe they knew each other but not necessarily close?) to then sharing a passionate night with them❤❤

I'm feral somebody hold me down-

i wanted this to be longer but lately i've been... funky so its some bland honeymoon shiz before i scare the hoes with toshiro bugfucker truthery

1.2 k words / warnings - reader has a pussoi, honestly this is more fluff than explicit but smut is the setting frame, not super proofread ~~~

“Do you…” Toshiro clears his throat, “Would you want to share a bed tonight?”

You paused, blinking up at your new husband stupidly before jerking your head to the side, “I’m not sure…”

“I’ll make a separate place for myself again, then.”

“Well, no, that’s not necessary…”

Black brows furrow down at you, “I’m a little confused.”

“As am I,” you confess, eyes tracing the hardwood floors with a soft sigh, “I’m just concerned with what you’ll think of me after I’m honest with myself.”

For a long while, Toshiro is perfectly still. Then his heart squeezes, blinking at you numbly, “I’m sorry?”

“What if I humiliate myself? Or I’m too eager?”

Oh? 

“How could you be too eager?”

Gaze stuttering from his framing baby hairs to his gentle eyes to his slim waist to his legs. Tender flesh obscured by a jade yogi. Black hair cascades over his shoulders, shining beneath flickering candle light. Cheeks flush and lashes fluttery.

“You couldn’t imagine.”

Oh! 

Toshiro smothers his shock with a hand over his rising mouth, looking away from you, “I don’t think that’s true.”

“You don’t?”

“Not at all,” Toshiro clenches his eyes, even the wrinkle in his forehead captivates you, “I didn’t want to scare or intimidate you by seeming too eager.”

Scandalized, you gasp, “Toshiro!”

“I know… I’m sorry if that’s unsettling to hear.”

“But is it true? You aren’t saying this for flattery’s sake, are you?”

“I’m not.”

“Then we’re both eager.”

“We are,” he confirms, clearing his throat before gesturing to the futon you’re designated to share, “Do you want to share the bed tonight?”

Just asking twice makes him feel uncomfortable, though he supposes the entirety of your engagement has been uncomfortable.

(“I insisted to my father, I’d find my own partner…”

“Sorry, if I’m disappointing.”

“No, no. I just… would have wished to not drag people into our lives.”)

You’re a bit more outgoing than himself. He prefers you to take charge, but suddenly you’re shy. Clamming up and awkwardly shuffling onto the mat. Legs pin straight and boring holes through his skull with a wide-eyed stare.

“Would you mind showing me?” he murmurs, “I feel you’re more… experienced in these matters.”

“Does it bother you that I am?” you frown suddenly, “Maizuru seems to hate it…”

If he hadn’t rushed to tuck his head down, you would’ve caught his vicious eye roll, “Maizuru doesn’t know what I want.”

“So, it doesn’t bother you?”

“Not at all. I find you just as pretty.”

Thankfully, his stammered and jumbled admission appears to soothe the tension in your shoulders. Rocking forward onto your knees before apprehensively tugging open the part of his thick robing.

“You might be the pretty one in this marriage.”

He’s forced to choke on his retort as you’re kissing up his freshly exposed thigh. Wandering hands shirking the thick material off his shoulders and combing through silky hair. Uneven pants lace the air, chapped lips parting to wheeze your name. Warm palms cup your cheeks, fingers toying around the bone of your jaw and thumbs rubbing beneath your lashes.

Coaxing you onto your feet, Toshiro cups your cheeks fully and he’s muttering. You’re not sure if he’s meaning to whisper sweet romantics for you, and you’re tempted to ask for clarity when he abruptly snaps you onto your back.

Nose digging into the junction of your neck as Toshiro folds your legs to cradle his waist. 

“Can I speak plainly?” he requests, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs before scaling up your tummy to peel off your own sleepwear.

Jolting shoulders and arms up to make the disrobing easier, you nod rapidly, “Of course!”

Still, his eyes are closed to avoid catching sight of your potential horror or displeasure, “There are many things I want for us to do, but tonight I’d like to stay this way.”

“Look at me,” you pet through his hair, kissing the corners of his downturned mouth and the bunched skin between his eyebrows, “Won’t my husband look at me?”

Slowly, he heeds your command. Long lashes batting your thumb pad. He squeezes the round of your thighs circling his bare waist to strangle the urge to run. To flip himself over and let you do as you please. To not put himself out there and let you see him any less proper.

“I’ve been fond of you since we met,” you crane up to smooch his forehead, the heat from his face searing your lips. You rather like the sensation.

“So long?”

“How couldn’t I be? I like men shy and reserved, though I think I’d like you more if you could break out of your shell when we’re alone.”

Toshiro returns his face into your neck, hips snapping to impress his hardening cock against you. Breath hitching when he’s embraced by wetness, shoulders tensing -- so this is happening.

Loneliness plagued Toshiro his entire life, even following reconciliation with the Toudens -- it isn’t as though he lives in Melini, after all. Instead he’s occupying his father’s place in their family, on Wa. 

Your engagement was his only respite from the gnawing solitude, and now you’re dedicating yourself to sides of him you haven’t even seen yet.

His slow thrusts are stiff and mildly pleasant until you coo and snag fingers into the divot of his tailbone. Pushing his hips to roll into yours, black pubes brushing your clit and curling a real whimper from your lips. Toshiro stares down at you at the sound, fumbling a moment to snare your thighs tighter around him before eagerly repeating the motion.

Canting up to meet Toshiro’s efforts rewards you with a warm stretch and soft squelch as your hole adjusts around him. Huffy pants escape the man above you, chest dying red and hands bruising your hips. 

He’d never liked someone as much as he liked Falin, but he’s thinking -- even through delirium and heat and lust -- that maybe he could love you.

Pitching up on your elbows, you whine quietly into his cheek with more lavish kisses. Toshiro greedily turns his head to capture your lips with his, praying to drown his rhythm-less, virgin embarrassment in your saliva.

You don’t finish. You say you’re okay with that. Toshiro isn’t, it feels selfish.

“Please, let me…” his fingers skim over your stomach before dipping between your thighs and tracing the sloppy, soaked seam of your cunt, “I want to.”

“Do you insist?”

Toshiro feels unnaturally bold, swallowing around syrupy desire. He nods, “I do.”

.

.

.

days prior.

Hands swept tightly behind your back, you carefully observe the way a common copper beetle is ticking around the hanging tree leaves. Fascination blazes your eyes wide, and lips coiled upward.

Toshiro hadn’t meant to actually see you. He wasn’t even aware you were still on the premises, certain that having his fiance so close before their wedding night was some strain of scandal. 

Nonetheless, you’re here. And you’re admiring the fuzzy legs of a mere beetle.

As far as he was aware, people were not fond of beetles. Butterflies or moths, maybe. Not beetles. Hien would squish them instantly, and even Inutade tried maintaining distance. 

You smile upon the creature, paying no mind to the outside world.

Toshiro wonders if you could smile upon him that way, too.

~~~ yes toshiro starts liking you bc you’re admiring a bug that moment in the manga was so significant to his character and to me and ill be damned if i dont get to add onto it

[thedamselzelda]

Don't Wake Me Up

Featuring: Chūya Nakahara

Author Chat: Part One! I feel so bad bc I have left DBH and LBH high and dry bc CHUYA FUCKING NAKAHARA has taken over my brain for the moment. Do not fret, I will return to darling Dazai, but I wanna get this short little three parter done so Chuya can leave me alone. (TBH I have a Chuya plush on the way, so he's never truly gonna leave me alone.)

Will update with main story page eventually, will also update the navigation of my page eventually... hopefully.

wc: 6.7k, sfw, slightly proofread, mild cursing, a little angsty ngl

hope you guys enjoy! Reblog and like if you enjoyed this! <3 DamzelZelda

Chūya Nakahara doesn’t dream. Or at least, he believed that he couldn’t… There was only one time he was truly able to do so, but even now that seemed like a distant memory.

"Ane-san's back! She's back!" 

"Yes, finally!"

Chūya navigated through the dark, winding tunnels of the underground base, guided by the excited voices echoing off the damp stone walls. He rolled his eyes, hearing the unbridled enthusiasm in their tones about your return. The irony wasn't lost on him; you'd be gone just as quickly as you'd arrived, like a fleeting shadow. Not quite a full member of the Sheep, but not an outsider either. Your ambiguous status never sat right with him, though he grudgingly acknowledged that the others trusted you. After all, you were a member before him.

As he approached, the voices hushed to whispers. Chūya's gaze fell upon you, watching as you offered a soft, enigmatic smile to the younger teens. They looked at you with admiration, as if you were some divine being gracing them with your presence. He let out an annoyed sigh, waiting for you to finally acknowledge him.

"Happy to see me, Nakahara?" Your voice carried a hint of amusement, and your attention fluttered up to him. His eyes darted between yours and the younger Sheep among you, feeling a heat arise to his face.

He let out a puff and shifted his weight, crossing his arms as he glared at you with feigned disinterest. "Did you at least come back with something useful?" He ignored your question hoping to provoke some flicker of emotion from you.

Your head cocked to the side, a knowing smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Of course I did. Never disappointed, have I?"

Chūya could only grit his teeth, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance as he turned away. "Let's just hurry up then, that way you can go on about filling their heads with more nonsense."

Your laugh pierced the air, neither harsh nor melodious. To Chūya, it felt mocking, further souring his mood about your return. The sound of your boots clicking on the stone floor followed him as your voice lulled the others away, promising to see them before they succumbed to sleep for the night.

"If you're that envious, I could offer you a taste of what they're so excited about," you teased, your voice grating on Chūya's nerves. He felt your hand on his shoulder, halting his escape through the dim corridor.

Chūya whirled around, feeling the embarrassment rise to his face. "I'm not jealous, alright?" He snapped, hating how defensive he sounded. Despite his irritation, he couldn't bring himself to shake off your touch. Your hand was impossibly soft against his shoulder, its warmth even seeping through his jacket. He tried to ignore the way it made his skin tingle.

He watched your eyes narrow, still maintaining that infuriatingly gentle, calm look you always wore. When you spoke, your words had a teasing lilt that made Chūya's stomach do an uncomfortable flip. "Come on, Chūya. You told me once you think you can't dream. Don't you want to find out if that's really true? I could at least try, you know?"

Chūya's gaze darted between your eyes, searching for any hint of mockery. He didn't hate you, not really, but he'd never admit how much your composed presence affected him. It was unsettling, how you could make him feel so off-balance.

With a dismissive click of his tongue, Chūya shrugged your hand away. "Whatever. We don't have time for this right now, ‘kay? There's actual important stuff to deal with," he muttered, fighting to keep his voice steady.

"Ah, yes..." you mused, your tone shifting. Chūya bristled at the hint of disapproval in your voice. "I heard whispers of your little display today. Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't actions of that magnitude typically require approval from all council members?"

His eyes narrowed as he watched you glide past him. "You weren't here," he countered. "We took a vote in your absence."

You waved a dismissive hand, your casualness infuriating him further. "I would have voted against it. You’ve put quite a big target on us for attacking a Mori Corp airplane."

Chūya scoffed, trailing behind. His eyes caught glimpses of your neck as your hood slowly slipped off your head, and he quickly averted his gaze, annoyed at himself for noticing. "I was sendin’ a message. We have to show we aren’t to be messed with."

"Now, now, Chūya," you purred, spinning around so suddenly that he nearly collided with you. Your faces were mere inches apart, and he could feel the warmth of your breath as you spoke. "Your time to act would’ve come, but now, we have to act. If you had known the rumors flooding the Port Mafia right now, you’d know the time to move would’ve been any time after yesterday.”

Chūya found himself frozen, caught between the urge to step back and the inexplicable desire to remain close to you. He couldn’t even bring himself to murmur out any questions. The mischievous glint in your eyes left him simultaneously frustrated and intrigued. He hated how easily you could get under his skin, how you always seemed to know more than you let on. Yet, a part of him couldn't help but be drawn to the mystery you presented, even as he tried to deny it.

"Oh yeah? And why's that?"

Chūya felt his cheeks burn as your eyes bore into him. Why did you have to look at him like that? It was unsettling, the way you seemed to focus solely on him, ignoring the other council members. Even Shirase's attempts to catch your attention with fond glances went unnoticed. It made something twist in his stomach, a feeling he couldn't quite place.

"They'll be distracted for a while," you began, your voice low and confident. Chūya watched, trying to keep his expression neutral as you shifted your weight, placing a hand on your hip. The casual gesture shouldn't have been so... distracting. He forced his gaze back to the map.

"Rumors are circulating about the current boss and his predecessor. Seems the depths of hell couldn't hold him after all." Your finger landed on the map, and Chūya found himself following its movement as it glided between two buildings. He tried to focus on your words, not the graceful motion of your hand. There was something strained about your tone, as if you were taking the rumor personally. "It's the perfect time to strike. Two caches of newly imported booze, guarded by about five men each. They'll be too preoccupied with the rumors to properly defend them."

Chūya groaned, letting his head fall to the side to hide the conflicting emotions on his face. "No way," he muttered, hating how his voice cracked slightly.

"What's wrong, your majesty?" Your mocking tone sent a shiver down his spine that he desperately tried to ignore. "We can handle this without you. Quick in and out."

"It's too dangerous, regardless," Chūya argued, moving around the table. He stopped just before you, close enough to feel the intensity of your presence. It made him feel off-balance for a moment, and he had to fight to keep his voice steady. "You'd send barely armed, non-ability users near Port Mafia territory? Are you tryin’ to get ‘em killed?"

Your eyebrow raised, and Chūya felt his heart skip a beat. He hated how you could affect him like this. "Who said I wasn't going with them?"

Chūya clenched his fists within his pockets, a storm of conflicting emotions churning inside him. On one hand, your recklessness infuriated him. Didn't you understand the risks? The Sheep weren't just pawns to be sacrificed. But on the other hand, a part of him wanted to agree; this would be the best time to strike.

He settled for glaring at you, hoping the anger in his eyes would mask the confusion underneath. "And what if somethin’ goes wrong?" he growled, his voice low to hide its slight tremor. "The Sheep aren't expendable. We can't just throw ‘em into danger on a whim."

Chūya knew he was fighting a losing battle - both against your persuasive arguments and the inexplicable pull he felt towards you. He forced his eyes back to the map, desperately focusing on the proposed mission, on anything but how your presence seemed to fill every corner of the room. The Sheep came first. They had to. No matter how much a part of him wanted to agree with your every word.

"We could leave it to a vote?" Your voice drew his attention back like a magnet. He noticed your hands clasped behind your back, a gesture he'd seen countless times before. It irked him how such a simple thing could look so authoritative coming from you.

Chūya sighed, rolling his eyes as he looked to Shirase, hoping to find an ally. "My vote's obviously a 'no'." He hated how his voice betrayed his frustration.

Shirase, predictable as ever, nodded in agreement with you. The others murmured amongst themselves, and Chūya felt his irritation growing. Always caught between the two of you, never able to make a decision on their own.

He scanned their faces, already sensing his defeat. "Fine," he spat, "but I'm not savin' your asses if you get caught." The words tasted bitter in his mouth.

He always lost when it came to you. You held more sway, more influence over their decisions than he ever could. Some 'King' they'd made him. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, shoulders hunching slightly.

"No."

Your voice cut through his thoughts. Chūya's head snapped up, confusion etched on his face as you turned to address the others. "I'll leave the room, allowing for an anonymous vote. I understand Chūya has some doubts."

You turned back to him, offering a small bow that left him feeling off-balance. "You should at least be able to state your case. I have other matters to attend to now that I've shared the information."

Chūya stared at you, caught off guard by this unexpected move. He couldn't quite read the expression in your eyes, and it left him feeling even more unsettled than before. As you moved to leave, he felt a confusing mix of relief and an unwelcome urge to ask you to stay. He pushed both feelings aside, focusing instead on the opportunity you'd just handed him. Maybe, he could turn this around without you there to sway everyone's opinion and save himself the headache.

In the shadows of a dilapidated warehouse, just above the war room, Chūya found you cradling two of the younger Sheep members. The kids were about thirteen, he guessed. Your hands hovered above the children's heads, emanating a soft blue glow that shifted to lavender as Chūya approached. The sight mesmerized him—your ability manifesting like the northern lights dancing across a night sky.

Chūya whispered your name, his voice barely audible over the creaks and groans of the decrepit shelter. As the glow faded from your hands, you turned to him, your eyes holding a warmth that seemed out of place in their world. With practiced gentleness, you tucked the kids into threadbare futons, pulling frayed sheets over thin shoulders.

He could never quite figure you out. These tender actions contrasted sharply with the impulsive, almost reckless decisions you made during missions. It was as if two people inhabited your body, and Chūya never knew which one he'd encounter.

"I thought your ability was about creating dreams," he said, meeting your gaze. Something in your eyes made him uneasy—an invitation to a hidden world you longed to share. The idea tempted him, but the dark circles under your eyes betrayed the toll it took.

"Dreams are just part of it," you explained softly. "I can manipulate the entire sleep cycle, pushing someone through different stages at will. Dreams are flashy, but the real power is in controlling sleep's restorative aspects."

Chūya nodded, processing this. Your ability, like you, remained a mystery. Standing in the gloom, surrounded by their sleeping makeshift family, he wondered what other secrets you held.

"So, you're giving them... what, super-sleep?" he assumed.

You chuckled. "Something like that. They'll wake feeling more rested than they have in years."

Comfortable silence fell, broken only by soft breathing and distant sounds of city life. Chūya found himself stealing glances, noticing how the dim light caught in your eyes and the slight furrow of concentration between your brows.

Suddenly, you huffed out a small laugh and snaked your arm around his. "Come on. I have one more piece of information to relay."

"Wha—what?" Chūya stammered, feeling a strange heaviness as you tugged his arm. He jerked back, confused. "Where are we going?"

Your face softened in understanding. Leaning in, you cupped your cheek and whispered, "We have to go where the walls can't listen."

Curiosity overrode his hesitation. What information could be so sensitive? He allowed you to link your arm with his again, walking compliantly as you led him through the drafty corridors of the abandoned building. This place, meager as it was, was home to him and the other Sheep. He wondered if you felt the same, given how often you vanished into the shadows, hunting for information.

As you neared the back door leading to roof access, a voice called out your name. Shirase. Chūya noticed the flash of irritation across your face and had to suppress a grin.

You forced Chūya to turn with you, and he suddenly realized how this might look to Shirase—the two of you walking arm-in-arm in the darkness, an oddly intimate picture.

"Shirase." Your voice was strained, patience clearly already wearing thin.

Chūya tensed, sensing the underlying current of tension. Whatever information you wanted to share, it was clear Shirase's interruption was unwelcome. The air grew thick with awkwardness as Shirase approached, giving Chūya an odd glance before focusing entirely on you.

"Hey, so..." Shirase began, his voice cracking slightly. He ran a hand through his messy hair, a nervous habit Chūya had noticed before. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind... you know..." He raised his hands, wiggling his fingers in a vague gesture that made Chūya cringe inwardly. "Doing your thing... your ability... on me?"

Chūya fought the urge to roll his eyes. Shirase's crush on you was painfully obvious, and his clumsy attempts at flirtation were almost unbearable to watch. The way Shirase stood there, with that goofy grin plastered across his face, made Chūya want to disappear into the shadows.

You answered in a tone that was polite but firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation. "I'm honestly really tired, Shirase. I've got to leave early tomorrow for the next assignment, since we aren’t going for the alcohol. You know how it is."

Chūya watched as Shirase's face fell, the rejection hitting him like a physical blow. It was almost pitiful, the way his shoulders slumped and his eyes dulled.

"Oh, yeah, sure. I totally understand, no big deal," Shirase mumbled, his gaze darting to Chūya. The look in his eyes was a mixture of embarrassment and something darker.

Chūya shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of your arm still linked with his. He wanted to say something, to break the suffocating silence, but words failed him. The whole situation was mortifying, and he found himself wishing he could use his ability to manipulate gravity and just float away from this awkward position, but he remained still.

You cleared your throat, your voice taking on a gentler tone. "Look, Shirase, I appreciate the thought. But my ability isn't something to be used lightly. It takes a lot out of me, and right now, I need to conserve my energy. You understand, right?"

Shirase nodded glumly, his eyes fixed on the floor. "Yeah, of course. The mission comes first. Always does."

Chūya felt a twinge of sympathy for Shirase, despite his annoyance at the interruption. They were all so young, thrust into this dangerous world of abilities and shadowy organizations. Moments like these – awkward, painfully human moments – were rare and somehow made everything feel more surreal.

"Maybe another time," you added, though Chūya could tell from your tone that you didn't mean it. "We should all get some rest."

As Shirase mumbled a goodbye and shuffled away, Chūya felt the tension in your arm relax slightly. He glanced at you, noticing the way your eyes followed Shirase's retreating form with a mixture of pity and frustration.

"That was..." Chūya started, not sure how to finish the sentence.

You sighed, a wry smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "Yeah, it was. Come on, we still need to talk."

You guided him towards the door, grasping the ladder outside. As you hoisted yourself up, Chūya followed, trying his best to focus on the rungs rather than... other things. He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut at the thought. Instead, he noticed the absence of your blue bracelet, finding it odd you didn't wear it even when wandering the halls of their base.

A sigh of relief escaped you as you reached the top. Chūya looked up to see you glancing down at him, a mischievous smile stitched across your face.

"Couldn't you have just used your ability and beat me up here?" you teased.

Chūya laughed, shaking his head. "Where would’ve been the fun in that? Also, I was followin’ your lead. Chivalry isn't dead, you know."

"Oh, how very gallant of you, King Chūya," you replied with an exaggerated curtsy.

He watched as you moved to the edge of the metal roof, sitting down with a dull thud. He followed suit, leaning back on his arms and gazing up at the star-studded sky. Despite the living conditions, at least it always came with a beautiful view...

"I'll probably be gone for a while..." you spoke into the midnight air, snapping his attention back to you.

"Oh? Planning a vacation?" Chūya quipped, raising an eyebrow.

You gave a small laugh. "Wouldn't you want to extend your outing after an awkward encounter like that? I hear Siberia's lovely this time of year."

He shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "I haven't really been on the receiving end of unwanted attention like that.”

You expelled air dramatically. "Are you kidding me? Yuan practically has heart-eyes whenever you so much as breathe in her direction."

Chūya’s eyebrows shot up. "Nah, I don't really notice her like that. She probably just wants to see my ability in action or something."

"That's the thing though, isn't it?" Your voice softened as you curled your legs inward, resting your chin on your knees.

"It's like..." you continued, your voice soft and contemplative, "to them, we're these larger-than-life figures. Not quite gods, but definitely not just regular humans either. In their eyes, we can do no wrong. We're the kings and queens they make us out to be."

Your words hung in the air between you, heavy with implications. Chūya found himself staring out at the city lights, pondering this new perspective.

"But we're not," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm no king... even though everyone keeps callin’ me one… We're just... us. Right?"

You turned to him, a sad smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, we are. But sometimes I wonder if anyone else sees that anymore."

A comfortable silence fell between you as you flattened your legs on the metal roof. Chūya noticed you picking at your hands, the skin red and raw. Without thinking, he reached out and grasped your hand to stop you.

You looked up at him, hesitation in your eyes before speaking. "What I wanted to tell you, without anyone else hearing... it's about the old Port Mafia boss."

Chūya felt a jolt of excitement mixed with apprehension. "What about him?"

You grasped Chūya's hand tighter, the touch unfamiliar but oddly comforting. His eyes widened slightly at the gesture, but he didn't pull away. "The rumors..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "they're saying Arahabaki has something to do with his return."

Chūya's breath hitched, a mix of curiosity and unease washing over him. "What? What do you mean?" he pressed, leaning in closer, his red hair catching the moonlight.

You shook your head, frustration evident in your voice. "That's all I could get. I tried to find out more, I really did. I'm sorry." Your shoulders slumped slightly, disappointment clear in your posture.

"Hey, nothing to be sorry about," Chūya said, his tone softening as he tried to catch your eyes. A reassuring smile played on his lips. "I know getting that information must've been tough, considering."

You hummed in response, a wry smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Anything to do with the Port Mafia is nothing short of exhausting, especially after being their property…"

Chūya tensed up momentarily, thinking back to your explanation of your escape and arrival at the Sheep. He quickly shook off the dark thoughts, focusing on the present.

"Oh, and there's more." You squeezed his hand, drawing his attention back to your words. "Supposedly, there's going to be a Port Mafia member lurking around Suribachi, searching for information."

"Dammit," Chūya hissed, his free hand clenching into a fist. Then, a mischievous glint appeared in his eye. "Of course they're gonna snoop around our territory. But... it could be an opportunity."

Your grip on his jacket sleeve tightened, concern evident in your voice. "Just promise, nothing reckless like today."

A playful smirk crossed Chūya's lips, his earlier tension melting away. "Shouldn't I be telling you that? You're the one constantly putting yourself in the Port Mafia's crosshairs."

You returned his smile, a mischievous glint in your eye. "I have my ways. Men will do a lot for a good dream and rest."

Chūya huffed out a laugh, remembering Shirase's earlier request and your offer. His curiosity piqued, he asked, "Speaking of... if you were to give me a dream, what would it be?"

You glanced back at the cityscape, considering for a moment. "A good life... one where you didn't constantly worry about the Sheep or whoever you were over. Where being 'king' just means being strong and respected, not having all this weight on your shoulders." You turned to him, a soft determination in your eyes. "I'd make that true for you."

Chūya nodded, looking out at the city, the lights twinkling like earthbound stars. "Sounds like a good dream," he said softly, not quite grasping the full depth of your words, but appreciating the sentiment all the same.

He nudged your shoulder playfully, trying to lighten the mood. "But hey, who needs dreams when we've got all this?" He gestured dramatically at their surroundings - the rusty metal roof, the distant glow of the city, the vast starry sky above.

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "Oh yes, living the high life here on our luxury penthouse."

"Exactly!" Chūya grinned, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "Five-star accommodations, breathtaking views, excellent company... what more could a guy ask for?"

Your laughter, genuine and unguarded, filled the night air, and Chūya found himself grinning wider, enjoying the sound.

"You know," you said after a while, your voice taking on a more serious tone, "whatever happens with this Port Mafia business, whatever turns up with Arahabaki... we've got this, right? You and me, the Sheep... we'll figure it out."

Chūya felt a warmth spread through his chest as he gazed at you, his friend and confidant, silhouetted against the night sky. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice filled with determination and a hint of excitement for whatever challenges lay ahead. "We've got this."

He watched curiously as you gave a curt smile and began unzipping your outermost jacket. "Here," you said, shrugging it off.

"Hmm?" Chūya's eyebrows quirked up, wondering what you were up to. He observed as you bundled up the jacket and placed it behind him with a gentle pat.

The nudge on his shoulder caught him by surprise. "I'll give you a dream," you explained. "Just a real quick one, twenty minutes tops."

Chūya hesitated for a moment before giving in to your urging. As he laid his head onto your jacket, he couldn't help but notice the lingering warmth you had left behind. It was... nice. Comfortable. "Oh yeah?" he quipped, unable to resist teasing. "That dream you mentioned earlier seems like it'd take longer than twenty minutes."

Your laugh rang out once again in the night air. He watched as you raised your hand above his head, your fingers hovering just above his eyes. "No, I just had another idea. A dream where you'd actually win at an arcade game for once."

"Hey!" Chūya protested, his hand shooting up to grab your wrist. "That was one time." He felt a flicker of embarrassment at the memory, but it was overshadowed by amusement.

Your playful head tilt and the smile that followed made Chūya's cheeks warm unexpectedly. "Oh yeah? Then how come it kept happening?" you challenged.

He scoffed, releasing your wrist in feigned annoyance, but he couldn't quite keep the smile off his face. "Whatever, just try and give me this dream," he grumbled good-naturedly.

The sudden smack on his chest caught him off guard. "If you even act angry it'll affect the dream so stop it," you warned, your tone light but your eyes serious.

Chūya closed his eyes, exhaling sharply as he tried to empty his mind. It was harder than usual, especially with your presence so close, warm and comforting beside him. 

"Ability: Exhaustion," he heard you intone softly.

As sleep began to tug at the edges of his consciousness, Chūya found himself both skeptical and hopeful. All he ever saw when sleeping was emptiness, a void of darkness. But if you could actually manipulate a dream for him... well, he hoped he'd remember it. The thought of experiencing a real dream, even if it was just about winning an arcade game, filled him with a childlike excitement he hadn't felt in a long time.

Chūya stood before the full-length mirror in his apartment, his nimble fingers working on the knot of his silk tie. The warm glow of the setting sun filtered through the windows, casting long shadows across the room. He hadn't realized he had zoned out until a sharp vibration from his suit pocket jolted him back to reality.

A scowl crossed his face as he remembered Mori's insistence on his attendance at this event. A gathering of executives, sub-executives, and other Port Mafia affiliates was enough to make his blood simmer with irritation. Social niceties had never been his strong suit.

With a sigh, he slid his hand into his pocket, retrieving his phone. Kōyō's name flashed on the screen, and he could practically hear her stern voice already. No doubt she was calling to ensure he hadn't found some convenient excuse to bow out.

"What?" he answered, his tone clipped as he wedged the phone between his ear and shoulder, returning his attention to the stubborn tie.

Kōyō's voice came through, tinged with exasperation. "Are you even dressed yet? I feel like I've been waiting down here for over twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes, tops. The unbidden thought flashed through Chūya's mind, accompanied by a fragment of a long-ago memory. He shook his head, nearly dropping the phone in the process.

"I'm nearly done," he grumbled, finally conquering the tie. "Whatcha so in a rush for, huh? Not like this is a business meetin' or anythin'."

He heard Kōyō sigh on the other end, a sound he was all too familiar with. "Have I taught you nothing about punctuality, Chūya?"

Rolling his eyes, he set the phone down on the dresser, speaking louder as he shrugged into his jacket. "It doesn't even start till thirty minutes from now, we're fine!"

A groan emitted from the receiver, followed by Kōyō's voice, quieter now. "You really have learned nothing."

Chūya snatched up his favorite hat, settling it at a rakish angle on his head before picking up the phone again. "You gonna keep lecturin' me or should I just call it quits on this whole thing?"

He could practically see Kōyō's stern expression through the phone. Despite his irritation, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Some things never changed, and Kōyō's motherly concern was one of them.

"Just get down here," she said, a hint of fondness creeping into her tone. "And Chūya? Try not to scowl too much. It's unbecoming."

With a theatrical sigh, Chūya ended the call. He cast one last glance in the mirror, adjusting his hat slightly. The man staring back at him looked every inch the Port Mafia executive, but his eyes held a hint of something else. He shook that feeling off too. He didn’t need anyone questioning him tonight about his thoughts of days long gone.

Even as the sleek black car glided through the neon-lit streets of Yokohama, Chūya couldn't help but drift back to the memories that had surfaced earlier. The plush leather seat beside Kōyō felt a world away from the cold, hard rooftops of his youth.

He remembered that night, waking up with a smile that had become foreign to him since joining the Mafia. Your face had been hovering above him, alight with excitement to share the dream and hear his thoughts. In a rare moment of unbridled joy, he had hugged you tightly. You were warm despite the cool breeze, your heartbeat seemingly synchronized with his own.

Chūya squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the memories away. You had told him to forget, after all. But the images kept coming, vivid and relentless.

He saw you crouching before him, water splashing up and soaking your jacket. You were dressed in all black, an oversized hood casting shadows across your face, leaving only sadness visible in your eyes.

"Heard some rumors about you, Chūya," your voice echoed in his mind, "about the Sheep."

He remembered the pain, the stab wound in his stomach pulsating with each labored breath.

"The Sheep... they're gonna be split up. That way something like this doesn't happen again."

Even now, years later, he could feel the grimace on his face as he had looked up at you. "What about you?"

Your soft smile, the gentle touch as you brushed stray hairs from his face - it all felt so real. The handkerchief you had produced from your jacket, wiping away the sweat from his brow.

"I'm not a member of the Sheep, Chūya. Not really, remember?" Your words had stung more than the wound. "So... it's best you forget about me."

He had wanted to reach out, to grasp onto you, but his body wouldn't cooperate.

"But, that dream, what I made for you nights ago... I think you're gonna get that now. The Port Mafia will take care of you, Chūya."

Even now, he wanted to object, to call out the lies. It couldn't have been real, just a nightmare born from blood loss and pain.

"You'll be a king. Just... don't let people get into that head of yours."

The memory of your touch on his cheek, the soft press of your lips against his forehead - it all felt too vivid, too real to be just a recollection.

"Even throughout our endless bickering and fighting because our passions differed," your whispered words ghosted across his skin, "And of all the dreams I've had, you were always in my favorite ones."

Chūya's eyes snapped open, the present rushing back in a flood of sensory input. The purr of the car engine, the faint scent of Kōyō's perfume, the glittering lights of Yokohama streaming past the tinted windows. He took a deep, steadying breath, pushing the memories back into the recesses of his mind.

He was Chūya Nakahara, executive of the Port Mafia now. A ‘king’, just as you had predicted. But as he straightened his tie and adjusted his hat, he couldn't help but wonder if this was truly the dream you had envisioned for him all those years ago.

"What's got you all silent for once?" Kōyō's melodic voice cut through Chūya's reverie, accompanied by a gentle nudge from her ornate fan.

Chūya scoffed, crossing his arms defensively as he shifted in his seat. The leather creaked softly beneath him. "Can't I be silent in peace? Already don't wanna go to this event," he grumbled, his reflection in the window scowling back at him.

Kōyō's laughter filled the car, light and airy. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she opened her fan, the intricate design catching the passing streetlights. "Surely it won't be that bad," she mused, fanning herself gently. "Just come and make an appearance, and maybe Mori will allow you to leave early."

Chūya rolled his eyes, the action exaggerated by the tilt of his hat. "What's the point of this event if even Mori's going to mope the entire time?" he retorted, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. "He's still not over that bastard up and leavin'."

A playful lilt colored Kōyō's response, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Sounds like you aren't either."

Chūya's eyes widened, his body recoiling as if he'd been struck. The mere suggestion sent a jolt of indignation through him. "Hey! I'm glad that suicidal bastard ain't here anymore!" he snapped, his voice rising sharply in the confined space of the car.

Kōyō's laughter only grew at his reaction, the sound both infuriating and oddly comforting. Chūya gritted his teeth, choosing to let it go rather than dig himself deeper. With a low growl, he turned back to the window, watching as familiar buildings rushed past in a blur of neon and shadow.

Not much longer now, he thought to himself. Then he could make his appearance, play his part, and leave all the sooner.

As the car jerked to a halt, Chūya’s hand was already on the door handle. He pushed himself out, the cool night air a welcome change from the stuffy interior. Turning back, he offered his hand to Kōyō, feeling the delicate pressure of her fingers as she gracefully exited the vehicle.

Closing the door behind her, Chūya took a moment to survey his surroundings. The buzz of anticipation in the air was almost palpable, mixing with the subtle scents of expensive colognes and the night-blooming flowers adorning the entrance. A steady stream of Port Mafia members and affiliates moved towards the building, their finery a stark contrast to the shadows at the edges of the property.

Chūya’s eyes were drawn upward, tracing the lines of the imposing structure before him. The 'Mori Corporation' sign gleamed overhead, its golden letters a beacon in the night. He couldn't help but smirk at the audacity of it all.

Following Kōyō's lead, Chūya stepped into the building. The familiar opulence of the interior hit him anew – soaring ceilings, glittering chandeliers, and the low hum of power that seemed to emanate from every surface. Even after five years, a part of him still marveled at the sheer grandeur the Port Mafia commanded.

His gaze swept the room, cataloging faces both familiar and unknown. Leaning closer to Kōyō, he muttered, "So, who's even here from the affiliates? We don't really deal with them, that's Mori's business."

"Well," Kōyō began as they approached the bar, "I believe the Nagano group Shirubā Sanzu's leader is here. I can never remember his name." She waved dismissively, clearly unbothered by the lapse in memory.

Chūya grabbed two champagne flutes, handing one to Kōyō as she continued. "The Tokyo sister group Onikai is here too. I remember when that girl used to be just an assassin and whisperer. She was so good, I surely thought she'd make executive, but no! She took the job of taking over that syndicate group. She hardly ever shows up to these though."

As Kōyō reminisced, Chūya’s attention drifted. His eyes scanned the room, finally landing on Mori. Good, now he could make his presence known and start planning his escape from this tedious affair.

As he began to move towards Mori, Kōyō following, something made him pause. There was a smaller figure beside the Port Mafia boss, and for a moment, Chūya felt as if the ground had shifted beneath his feet. It couldn't be... could it?

"Then the Mito group—" Kōyō continued, but Chūya cut her off abruptly.

"Wait," he said, his voice tight with sudden tension. "Go back. The other group – what's the leader's name?"

Kōyō's response sent a jolt through him. The name she spoke – it was so close to yours, yet more formal, a longer version of your name. As if she were talking about a person he once knew intimately, now turned stranger.

"I actually think that might be her over there," Kōyō added, but Chūya barely heard her.

His heart pounded against his ribs as he strained to get a better look at the woman speaking with Mori. A whirlwind of emotions surged through him – disbelief warring with hope, uncertainty tinged with a sharp edge of something he couldn't quite name. Could it really be you? After all this time?

Chūya's world narrowed to a single point of focus. He had to know. He had to see your face and confirm whether the past he'd thought long buried was about to come crashing back into his present. Without a word, he passed his champagne flute to Kōyō, barely registering her questioning look in his peripheral vision.

His feet began to move of their own accord, carrying him forward. He didn't care if he was about to make a fool of himself. He had to know he wasn't dreaming.

As he drew nearer, Mori's smooth voice drifted into earshot. "I just wish you would return, my dear. I could instate someone else for you to come back. It's just too nice to finally see you in person again. Ah, it makes me remember your youth."

Your voice – so familiar, yet changed – came clearly in response, laughing off the proposal. "And let my hard work go to waste? Come now, Mori, you know better than I that this has been the best venture for me, for us."

Chūya's gaze locked onto you. Your eyes squinted as you smiled, a practiced look you had no doubt given thousands of times. Mori merely chuckled at your rejection, one you had probably offered several times before.

He noticed your hands clasped behind your back, fingers mindlessly picking and rubbing your nails together – a habit he remembered all too well.

Chūya's lips parted, but no sound came out. He tried to steady his breathing, silently cursing his quickening pulse. He swallowed hard and tried again, hearing your name leave his lips in a shaky whisper.

Mori turned first, then you. Chūya couldn't read the expression on your face, only noticing your eyes dart between his as your lips parted in surprise.

If it weren't for Mori's knowing chuckle, Chūya might have remained frozen in disbelief.

"I'll let you handle this one, dear," Mori said, his tone laced with amusement. "Seems it's time for you to clean up your mess." He patted you on the shoulder before giving a small bow to Chūya and departing.

Chūya watched as your eyes drifted downward, your gaze seeming to bore holes into the polished marble floor. He caught the sharp exhale that escaped your pursed lips, the sound barely audible above the ambient chatter of the gathering. Your shoulders tensed, a minute movement that he might have missed if he hadn't been so intently focused on every detail of your presence.

You gave a harsh swallow, your throat bobbing visibly with the effort. Chūya's eyes traced the familiar line of your neck, memories flooding back unbidden. Slowly, achingly slowly, you raised your head to meet his gaze.

The look in your eyes struck him like a physical blow. It was a complex mixture of emotions – regret, apprehension, and something that looked unsettlingly like pity. Your brows were slightly furrowed, creating a small crease between them that Chūya had the absurd urge to smooth away with his thumb.

"Chūya," you began, your voice soft and hesitant, a stark contrast to the confident tones you'd used with Mori moments ago. "I can explain."

[ozokin]

ok ngl I NEVER see any headcanons or theories about that one scene in AvA where the color gang gets ‘deleted’ and Orange is all sad

I usually see people headcanon TCO and Orange as some sort of brothers, which i can see since Orange is his own very person even with that “the second coming” title but im still very curious since he glitched into TCO??? Which was hella unsettling and I doubt its some imaginary stuff,,, Does anybody have any more headcanons about these two little hollow heads?

[dreamingunderacloudysky]

What's your opinion on all the Jimmy enjoyers and fetish content out there?

Whew, ok, I felt like I was going to get asked this, but not THIS soon.

Ok. I'm totally fine with people liking Jimmy, he's a well written character with a complex array of issues and instincts which drive him forward as well as mysterious background for what really drove him to be in that crew. Most Jimmy enjoyers I meet are actually pretty chill for the most part. Do I like him?

Well...

Not exactly. I do believe in creative choice. People can write whatever they want, even if a lot of it I find disturbing. Jimmy's character made me actually feel upset at multiple points in the game, but thays a sign of just how humanly fucked up he's depicted. He's so human and does messed up but very human things, which makes it all feel real on an unsettling level.

The people I generally do not interact with are the people who FETISHIZE Jimmy's assault of Anya and say stuff like "She probably liked it ngl" like actually that is super gross and I really wasn't planning on bringing it up here, but years ago I myself was taken advantage of by another woman so for my case yes I cannot fathom the type of stuff people say or write with Jimmy. If someone is attracted to Jimmy, stop telling them to see a therapist (I mean, I think we all should after having played this game good lord the game messed with my psyche) while I dont agree with it and I don't understand how people can be attracted to him, it's also not my brain. They may be cringe, but they are free unless they're saying the type of comments I said earlier because they actually get off the internet.

This Fandom is very weird, and I'll admit me writing NSFW for it loops me in somewhat in a taboo spot, but I'm sorry Wrong Organ you made well written kissable polygons.

Before I get asked this next, WHY do I not write for Jimmy?

Just reread what I said earlier on how his involvement in the story, along with how Anya's played in part which hurt me in my soul and you'll understand that I personally cannot write for him without stirring up some unpleasant concepts of my past and just the general overall summary of his actions.

I'll be honest, I really don't want to write Curly either. As someone who worked in a leadership role for 8 years and take classes for my job to continue to do that Curly was a terrible leader 🙃 and made me want to bite chunks off of my keyboard like a Kit Kat. He is barely the lesser evil of Curly, and as a famous statement, I firmly believe

"Bad things happen when good people stand by"

But I will write Curly because why the hell not! I'm personally not attracted to him (first of all I'm a girl kisser, second of all we didn't see get to see him oerate pre-crash aside from playing AS him) But he's a good way to flex my writing muscles and give the masses some of my take on Curly. All the characters would be pretty fun to write for

So Jimmy enjoyers, sorry that you get harassed, but the weirdos, including the non Jimmy, fans need to keep their weird ass comments off of normal posts and not justify SA.

While I'm on this of yall want me to point out some stuff I don't like that is done with the character I'll leave a small list.

Jimmy fans... do i need to elaborate on what the weird ones do?

Some people make post SA Anya like she's a non functional human being and incapable of living and just an actual extremely dependent ball of constant sadness. Don't let her SA define her character just how SA victims aren't defined by their perpetrators. Don't romanticize abuse period

Daisuke I hear people complain about him being infantalized, but you have a bubbly character in any Fandom and they're going to babygirlify them I'm sorry it sucks for his fans but I hope I'm not writing hi that way he's just a silly man in my writing.

Swansea... I don't have much to say on it, a little strange to me that people hunger for a married man, but he's fictional so while I don't feel comfortable writing him romantically Swansea lovers can pop off hope you homies have fun!

Curly. Just the people saying he did nothing wrong. That's just cringe and honestly these are all strange pixel crushes we shouldn't be having but have them anyways so pop off to you homies too.

If anyone has comments or disagreements that's totally valid, feel free to leave them in the comments and I promise I won't bite if you don't. ☁️☁️☁️☁️