#its a fucking struggle for me even doing things i normally enjoy

[tooies]

everyone around me is able to like stay on top of schoolwork and apply for colleges and got jobs and shit meanwhile i am barely keeping it together with only 5 classes. honestly at this point i think there just has to be something wrong with me. i dont know what it is but fucking everyone else can do all this shit that i just cant

[prickly-paprikash]

Kendrick doesn't just hate Drake as a person. He hates the very idea of Drake.

Hip-Hop is rooted in revolution. In defiance. These are the songs of an oppressed group of people, and decades upon decades people have hated it. Accused of being meaningless and invalid. Media outlets took steps to belittle hip-hop and make sure it isn't recognized as an art form and as a means to fight back.

2Pac spoke of wealth disparity and inequality. Tupac was literally a member of a communist organization when he was younger and never stopped speaking against capitalism.

Lauryn Hill spoke of the struggles a woman faces. Not just women, but black women. Salt-N-Peppa. Queen Latifah. MISSY FUCKING ELLIOT.

N.W.A made sure people knew about police brutality and violence against the Black community.

And now, in this day and age, we're also experiencing an explosion of Queer Hip-Hop. Lil Nas X is at the forefront of this. Lil Uzi Vert came out as non-binary and uses they/them pronouns, even when they knew that a lot of their fans would never use it or even respect them for it. Auntie Diaries, a song about a young man who grew up in a transphobic environment and bought into those beliefs, but could never fully do it because his Uncle loved him so much and taught him a lot of life lessons, and that wisdom translated to him accepting his cousin as a woman as well.

Drake is none of that.

He's the perfect representation of what people think hip-hop is. Flexing. Posturing. Objectifying women. A fucker so insecure he bought 2Pac's ring just to feel like he's part of the black community. Rejected by Rihanna publicly. Tried to groom Millie Bobby Brown. Kissed and inappropriately touched an underage girl during his concert. His songs have inspired so many young boys to treat girls like shit. His belief that the amount of rings and chains and cars he has is the true meaning of success.

Additional Edit: This is my fault. If this post gains more views, then it would be remiss of me not to add to this. It was my fault to begin with, not stating this beforehand because while I did know, I got lost in celebrating Hip-Hop in a place that doesn't usually do so, and rightfully so.

2Pac did fight for wealth equality and better social living for the black community. He also has a long, long history of battery, domestic abuse, and sexual harassment against women. Specifically against women of color. He made a song to celebrate his own mother, but outright refused to give the same show of respect to other women in his life. His hypocritical nature was brushed off in later decades, just the way I did now.

N.W.A is the same. Sexual assault charges, violence—they spoke of Police reform, but refuses to give the same treatment back towards the women in their lives.

50 cent refuses to backtrack on any of his misogynistic lyrics.

Modern rappers of today, such as the dead XXXtentacion. 6ix9ine. Kodak Black.

I do love Hip-Hop. I love rap. And the music itself has always been anti-authoritarian at its core, because those are its roots. And I was happy that circles that did not normally know of it or enjoy it were getting into it, even for one thing like this rap feud.

Lil Nas X, Little Simz, Childish Gambino, Missy Elliot, Queen Latifah, Lauryn Hill—rappers who have at the very least consistently tried to put their money where their mouth is. Who have tried to act in accordance to what they rap and write and sing for.

@shehungthemoon @ohsugarsims finnthehumanmp3 were the ones who rightfully clarified in the comments. I know an apology won't correct my hypocrisy or my stupidity. I should have added all of this before making this post, but I wanted so badly to celebrate a genre of music but failed to do my due diligence in showing a better, holistic view of it. If anyone felt triggered, offended, troubled, frustrated or any other intense negative emotions surrounding this, please do block me. I'm sorry.

[yanderefarm]

.......imagine combining potatoing and the limited amount of words idea, cocksleeves dont need to talk after all :)

that lends so well into my love of making potatos dumber. like going from fully articulated man to a soft little thing that squirms and whines instead of using his words.

this became a whole thing. so enjoy you filthy animals. /lh

cw;; nsft, dead dove, amputation, electrocution, torture, unsanitary

i like that with achilles especially because for him this is the ultimate fantasy the best scenario in his world. completely dependent on you because you chose to take away his autonomy. but he still talks like he's a respectful member of society and not like he's a glorified cock sleeve, its not acceptable.

he also gets to ease into it, starting him with a good amount of words and slowly lowering it. but it gets even lower than noemie did because he doesn't even need to say pleasantries. good morning, good night, hello, its unnecessary. he needs to say yes, please, im sorry, and thank you and that's it. if he tries to waste his words on stupid things like no or stop he's going to end up punished in two ways.

it's fun to show off to your followers the sight of him using up his words. it's just a normal stream, you're playing games and in your lap is your cute little toy. everyone knows your cock is currently buried in your human onahole but you're not bouncing him or even moving, just letting him sit on your lap. someone asks how many words he has left today and so you check. it looks like he's been conservative today and he has about 10 left. so it's time to waste those precious words of your dumb toy. you make him look at the chat and people can pay for him to say things, of course you don't want them to use up all ten in one go so it's limited. the fun of watching him slowly fuck himself over begins.

"how are you doing today, pet?"

he blinks his pretty eyes and swallows.

"uhmm good..?"

"are you having fun?"

"yes!"

"what are you doing right now?"

you give him a good thrust to remind him. he gasps and whimpers with saliva dripping out of his mouth.

"mm.. t-taking master's co-cock."

that's 5.

"do you love your master?"

"yes!!"

"are you happy to be a fuck toy?"

"yes!!"

"do you ever regret losing your limbs?"

he looks back at you as best he can with a pout.

"you can say no this time." you assure him.

"no! i don't!"

that's the other 5.

"how many words do you have left?"

he blinks in confusion like he doesn't know what game you've all been playing.

"10."

that was the very last word. so you press him against your desk and push your cock even deeper into him. everyone is watching you remind him, everyone can see him and they know he's a sex toy.

"tell them thank you."

he's struggling with your cock now slamming into him making his entire body shake.

"tell them thank you." you say more sternly directing his slutty face to the camera.

"th-thank-"

the word barely leaves his mouth and he screams as the electricity buzzes through his body. that also earns him a hard slap on the ass.

"are you an ungrateful bitch? you need to be a good boy and say thank you properly."

"th-thank yyyYOUUU-"

another slap to accompany the shocks.

"thank you for watching this useless cock sleeve."

"ca-caaant-"

he's crying now as you continue to punish him along with the painful shocks. your relentless pounding of his tight hole doesn't stop either it's an overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure.

you pull him all the way onto your cock and sit back in your chair.

"tell me you can't again. see what happens."

"sowwy"

his voice is hoarse as his entire body twitches and writhes with the pain.

"now say it."

"tha-thank y-" a scream. "you fffforr-" more sobbing. "waaaaaatchingggggahh-" his body slumped forward but you pulled him back. "th-thisssss u-" his head fell against your shoulder as his body arched away from the pain. "useless-" he was flailing to get away from it. "co-coooock sleeeeeeeeveee-"

you watched as the poor toy couldn't help but release his bladder all over his stubby thighs and your lap.

"oh no... i think achilles wants to be punished even more."

[hvnyrt]

Voice in the Wind - ALTERNATE ENDING

JASON TODD X READER

I have never really written angst before, and I was really happy with the way my last work came out, but I couldn't help but want the reader and Jason to end up together in the end ;’) So I wrote a quick alternate ending to the same work, a happy ending this time, enjoy!

SUMMARY: Jason has been struggling with the idea of a relationship, fighting inner battles with himself constantly, you convince him to open up.

The rooftop of a Gotham skyscraper was cold beneath Jason Todd’s boots. His breath formed small clouds in the air, the city’s ever-present hum a background noise to his thoughts. He stood facing the edge, arms crossed, eyes scanning the streets below. It was late — or early, depending on how you looked at it — and the city was bathed in a sickly orange glow from the streetlights. Gotham was always awake, like a predator that never rested, and Jason… Jason was just another hunter in its maze of shadows.

He was trying to focus. ‘Focus, Todd,’ he told himself. ‘Don’t be weak. Stay sharp.’ But there was a problem. Your face kept slipping into his mind. No matter how hard he tried to shove it away, there you were again, with that crooked smile and those damn eyes that could cut straight through his walls.

Your voice rang in his ears. He hated your voice because it followed him everywhere, like an earworm he couldn’t get rid of. And your name. He hated your name because it made him feel like he could say it, like he could speak it aloud and claim it, and he didn’t want to claim anything. Not You. 

"She’s just a distraction," he muttered under his breath, the words lost in the wind. "Just a damn distraction." 

Except you werent. He knew it. 

He didn’t know how you had got under his skin, but you had. It had started innocently enough: a few random meetings while he was on patrol, a conversation here and there. But then something shifted. Something he couldn’t control, couldn’t shake. It wasn’t that he wanted to care about you; he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not when he knew better, when he was haunted by the ghosts of his past mistakes. People like him didn’t get to have things like that. People like him didn’t get to have… normal.

It was so fucking frustrating. 

"Stupid." Jason spat the word out as if it could wash away the thoughts, the feelings he didn’t want to deal with. There was no place for feelings in the world he lived in. It was all blood and violence, adrenaline and fear, and you… you were none of that. You were calm. Grounded. Real. You made him feel like he wasn’t constantly running from something.

Nope. Not happening.

"Jason?"

The voice broke through his internal tirade, familiar and warm, cutting through the cold like a blade. Jason didn’t turn around. Didn’t even flinch. But his heart did a strange little lurch. He hated that it did, but it did.

There you were, standing a few feet away, your arms wrapped around yourself to shield against the Gotham night. You didn’t even seem to notice how out of place you were up here — on this rooftop, so far above the city you loved but could never truly understand. You weren't like him. Never would be.

"You shouldn’t be here," he said, his tone as dismissive as he could manage. "Go home, It’s dangerous up here."

Your eyes flickered with that same mixture of concern and defiance he was growing all too familiar with. "And I’m guessing you’re worried about me?" you said, your voice laced with quiet amusement.

Jason’s lip curled slightly, though it wasn’t a smile. More like a reflex. “I worry about everyone, you're no different.” He said flatly, his back still turned.

But even as he said it, the doubt crept in. You had a way of doing that — making him second-guess every cynical, hardened part of himself that wanted to pretend he didn’t care. But he didn’t let it show. He never did.

"I’m not helpless." you said softly, stepping a little closer, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off you. "You don’t need to protect me. You don't have to worry me. Just please, tell me what's on your mind. Talk to me. Let me in." You wanted him so bad to just admit that he wanted you as much as you wanted him. You tried too hard to get him to open up to you, to get him to see what your relationship could be. He never listened.

The words hit him harder than they should have. He wanted to argue, to push you away again. You didn’t understand. You didn’t get what the world was really like, what it could do to someone like him. Someone who had already been destroyed once, who didn’t want to give it a second chance.

Instead, he just shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. "I’m not your protector. Just someone who knows better."

You raised an eyebrow, that familiar smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "So you’re telling me I shouldn’t be out here, too, but you’re not protecting me?" 

Jason didn’t answer. His gaze drifted away from her, back to the city lights, to the shadows below. But he didn’t walk away. He never did.

"You really think I can’t handle myself?" Your voice was quieter now, and for a moment, it almost sounded like you were teasing. Almost. 

Jason let out a breath, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. "You think you’re the only one who can handle themselves?" He turned his head just enough to catch her gaze. "This place doesn’t make you stronger. It makes you smarter. And if you’re not smart enough to get the hell out of it, you’ll get crushed. And that’s not something I’m willing to let happen."

The words left his mouth sharper than he’d intended, but he couldn’t stop them now. He never could when it came to you. 

You didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at him with those damn eyes that felt like they saw straight through his bullshit. Then, slowly, you took a step closer, not intimidated, but calm.

"Jason, you don’t have to pretend with me. I’m not going anywhere."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, though he’d never admit it. "I’m not pretending," he muttered, too quickly, and too defensively. 

The city stretched out beneath them, vast and indifferent, like a black sea dotted with the flickering lights of a thousand lives he would never touch. Jason stood there, his shoulders tense, his fists clenched. You were still beside him, too close for comfort, your presence a constant reminder of everything he couldn’t afford to feel. 

Focus, he told himself. Don’t let her in. Don’t let her do this to you.

But it was already too late.

You were right. He was pretending. 

Jason’s jaw tightened at the thought, and he could feel the familiar coldness creeping in — the walls he had built so carefully around himself, the ones that were starting to crack and crumble under your quiet, persistent gaze. The feeling of wanting to reach for you, of wanting to say the things that scared him more than anything else in this broken city, gnawed at him like a sickness. 

But no. He couldn’t do it. Not to you. Not again.

"You don’t get it," Jason said, his voice rougher than he meant it to be. He didn’t look at you, but he could feel you staring at him, that soft gaze that always seemed to see straight through him. "This isn’t… this isn’t some fairy tale. You can’t just waltz in here and fix me. I’m not… I’m not someone you can save. You don’t know what it’s like, and you never will."

He finally turned to face you, his eyes burning with something he couldn’t even name. "I’m dangerous. And you think you can handle me? You think you can be around me and still come out unscathed? You have no idea what this world does to people like us."

You didn’t back down. Of course you didn’t. You never did. Instead, you stepped closer, her voice low but steady. "I know enough, Jason. I know you’re scared. You don’t have to push me away—"

"Stop," Jason cut you off, his voice sharp, almost desperate. He took a step back, as if your proximity was suffocating him. "Stop pretending like you know me. Like you understand anything about me."

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Jason, I—"

"I’m not the guy you think I am!" He didn’t shout, but his voice trembled with the raw emotion he refused to show. "I’m not the guy you can fix. You think I don’t care about you? That I don’t—" He stopped himself, the words lodged in his throat like broken glass. He could already feel the heat in his chest, the thumping of his heart, the same damn pain that had been there since he came back from the dead. 

His fists clenched tighter. "I’m not your fucking hero. I’m a killer. A broken, fucked-up, damaged thing, and you don’t want to get close to that."

The words came out in a rush, desperate, but also… final. His eyes were wild now, the storm inside him too strong to ignore, the war he’d been fighting with himself spilling out in a way he hadn’t intended. 

You stood there, silent for a moment, your face unreadable. Then your expression softened, a mixture of hurt and understanding flickering behind your eyes.

"I’m not trying to fix you," you said quietly, your voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air between them. "I’m just trying to be here. I’m trying to be someone you don’t have to push away."

Jason didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. The words felt too raw, too close to something real. And that scared him more than anything. 

"You don’t understand," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "You can’t understand. I can’t let you in. Not like this. Not after everything."

He took another step back, further into the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. Every instinct in him screamed to get away from you, to run, to push you out of his life before you were swallowed up by the darkness he carried with him.

"Jason," your voice was quiet now, soft, like you were trying to reach him through the thick walls he had built. "Please."

But he couldn’t do it. Not for you.

Jason shook his head, more to himself than to you. He turned his back on you, the weight of his decision heavy in the pit of his stomach. His feet moved automatically, the thought of staying with you—of letting you see him, really see him—was too much to bear. 

Before he could even reach the edge of the rooftop, he heard your voice again, fragile but clear.

"You don’t have to do this alone."

He froze. For a second, everything inside him wanted to turn around, to reach for you, to tell you how much he wanted to believe that. How much he wanted to let you in. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let anyone in.

Jason's gaze lingered on the skyline, the weight of the city pressing down on him. His fists were still clenched, his jaw set tight, but inside, a storm was brewing, one that was just as chaotic as the one in the streets below. His heart was a mess of confusion and fear, and even though he wanted to push you away — needed to push you away — something about your quiet presence beside him made it feel impossible.

When you spoke again, your voice was gentle, almost like a whisper, yet it cut through the thick air between you with the clarity of truth. "You don't have to do this alone, Jason."

His eyes flickered to yours, and for a moment, he could barely breathe. He’d heard those words before, but never with the kind of sincerity that made him feel like he wasn’t alone in the universe. That maybe, just maybe, there was someone who saw through his walls, someone who wasn’t afraid of the darkness he carried.

He shook his head, his voice rough, trying to hold onto the hardness that kept him safe. "I told you, you don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like."

"I don’t need to," you replied softly. "I just need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. Not if you let me stay."

Jason’s heart pounded in his chest, the words stirring something deep inside of him, something that scared him more than anything. He wanted to say something — push you away, explain why this couldn’t happen, why he couldn’t let you in.

But the words stuck in his throat.

You took a step closer, not backing down, but not rushing him either. And for the first time, in the midst of all the noise inside his head, he realized that you weren’t asking him to fix himself. You were just asking him to be real. To stop pretending. To let you in.

Without thinking, without even fully knowing what he was doing, Jason reached out, his hand hovering just inches from yours. The proximity felt like a tug, a pull he couldn’t ignore. You didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, you stood there, looking at him with those eyes that had always been so damn patient, so damn sure.

And in that moment, something inside Jason broke open — a crack in the walls that had kept him safe for so long. He didn’t need to pretend anymore.

He moved before he could stop himself.

One step, then two, and suddenly, he was close enough to feel your breath against his skin, close enough that he could see the way your lips parted slightly, as though you were holding your own breath, waiting for him to make the next move.

And then, like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you, Jason closed the gap.

His lips brushed against yours in a slow, tentative kiss, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he pressed any harder. But you didn’t pull away. Instead, your hand reached up, cupping the side of his face, and you kissed him back, steady and sure.

Jason’s heart skipped a beat, his mind racing, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. The tension that had held him captive for so long unraveled, piece by piece, until all that was left was this — you, here with him, unafraid.

He kissed you deeper this time, a soft but desperate need in the way his mouth met yours. The world felt a little less heavy, like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to carry the weight of it all on his own anymore.

When the kiss finally broke, Jason’s forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing in the same air, your hearts syncing in a way that made everything else fade into the background. He didn’t say anything at first. He couldn’t. But the words he didn’t have to speak were already there — in the way his hands found your waist, in the way his body relaxed against yours.

“I’m scared,” he whispered, his voice rough with the admission. "Scared I’m not… enough. That I’m too broken for anyone to be here. To be what you need."

You leaned into him, your arms wrapping around him, grounding him with the warmth of your touch. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you. And that’s enough for me, Jason. That’s more than enough.”

His chest tightened at your words, the sincerity of them striking deep. He wasn’t used to hearing that — wasn’t used to anyone seeing him for who he really was, not the mask he wore to survive, not the monster he sometimes thought he was.

But you did.

He let out a breath, the weight of everything in him finally beginning to lift. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Jason closed his eyes, his heart a little lighter than before. Maybe he didn’t have to have all the answers. Maybe he didn’t have to be the hero, or the villain, or the broken man he always saw in the mirror.

Maybe he just needed to be someone who didn’t have to face the world alone.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Jason realized that he wasn’t as lost as he thought. Not anymore.

For the first time in a long time, he was ready to face whatever came next.

And he was ready to face it with you.

[mvltisstuff]

hi!! could you possibly do a one-shot with evan buckley where reader is having a horrible time and asks to come over but once they do they attempt to undress buck and have (ya know) with him but he realizes like right after his shirt was taken off that reader is trembling and shaking.

maybe it’s because of a fight with their sibling or something but it ends with him just holding them until they fall asleep and he’s all like “i’m gonna marry them.”

OFC you can take this into a whole different route!! thank you so much in advance!

in for it - e.b

summary: when y/n gets hot, and especially bothered, buck has to figure out why.

evan buckley x reader

a/n: hi!! again, so sorry for how delayed this is, but i hope its still enjoyed for those willing to read :))

buck and y/n had been texting all day, shooting each other suggestive messages and flirty little remarks. buck knew he was in for a treat when he got home, considering all of the bold things his girl had said to him throughout his shift.

however, that was not the case. when he returned home, he called out for y/n, but got no response. he got slightly worried, but y/n's a big girl, she knows what she's doing. he placed his bags down by the front door and pulled out his phone.

Hey, just got home. Everything good?

Yeah. I'm on my way home

he obviously believed her, he has no reason to not trust her. so, he took a beer out of the fridge and went to go sit on the couch and wait for her.

when he heard the doorknob twist, he got a familiar feeling of excitement he always knew when y/n would come home. he heard her kick her shoes off and throw her bag down. it sounded louder than normal, so she must've been really excited to come home to him.

when she came over, she threw her jacket on one of the chairs, leaving her in jeans and a white tank top. she looked as beautiful as always, never needing to dress up for buck because anything she wore was pure fashion in his eyes.

"hey, sexy," buck flirted as she walked over to him. she instantly grabbed his face, pulling his lips onto hers. he could smell the wine on her breath and the taste of it on her tongue. her hands wandered around his neck, slightly gripping onto it. he could feel her racing heart against his own chest, almost faster than he has ever felt it. "how were things at joes?"

her fingers quickly ran down to the hem of his t-shirt, tucking underneath and starting to pull it up. right before the fabric covered his eyes, he took note of y/n's red eyes and furrowed brows with her jaw tight. "fuck him." she spat out after his face was out. he looked her directly in the eyes as her hands continued to wander down to his crotch.

her fingers twitched against his belt as she struggled to unbuckle it, and her breath became more hitched. her face had not changed expression, like she only wanted to get this over with. when she would take her hands away, the only thing buck could notice was her shaking.

'wait, wait-" buck starts. "slow down for a sec."

"are you not hard?"

"well, i was, because im always hard with you, but not anymore. i can't be when you're so visibly upset."

"i'm not upset," she murmurs under her breath, down on her knees in front of him.

"and im not blind, baby," he grabs onto her side and pulls her onto his lap. "tell me whats wrong."

"he acts like i owe him everything. he acts like i do nothing for our parents and he doesn't even want me as his sister. why do i always have to make everyone happy?"

"but you need to be happy first."

"he doesn't care."

"is that an explanation for why you tried to suck me off while being so pissed?"

"i thought i'd start with making you happy," she tells. "and you love blowjobs."

buck chuckles while running a hand down her back. "but you make me the happiest. and he's a douche. you deserve more as a sister and a daughter."

y/n grins at him, her body starting to calm down against his. "thank you. you make me happy, too."

"of course, angel," buck leans back to get a better look at the beautiful girl on his lap. "we can keep going if you want, but you look tired."

"i am, but i want you to be satisfied."

"i will be fully satisfied taking you upstairs, getting changed, pouring us more wine, and laying with you all night."

"are you sure?"

"i will spend the rest of my life assuring you that that is all i ever need from you."

she places a more gently hand on his cheek, pecking him on the lips and pulling away with a smile. "i love you."

"i love you, too." he taps her hip with his finger. "now, go put on our show and change, and ill go get the pinot gris."

[aritsukemo]

The Oddities of Human Nature | Kabukimono

Kabukimono x Feminine Male Reader

Warnings: Wooo, where do we start? Major character death ( Reader ), implied suicide ( It's up in arms, but there are hints in the fic that reader may have drowned themselves in a lake ), self harm implied, sexual assault is loosely referenced ( only one sentence mentions it and I don't go into detail at all as to not trigger anyone ), themes of depression is referenced all throughout this fic, lots of blood is mentioned towards the end and I go into depth ( or try to ) in describing death so gore warning, the timeline is all fucked up but for the sake of the fic making sense, this takes place before Wanderer's three betrayals, reader uses they/him pronouns, finally, long story ( around 10k words ) under the cut. With all that said, happy reading!

A/N: This was a big hill for me to cross, but I'm glad I managed to do it! I juggled a lot of elements that I'm not familiar with so I'm sorry if this is all over the place. That aside, I found that a lot of the songs I listened while I was writing matched this fic pretty well! ( ..I also realized out that I maaaayyy have spilled a a little bit of myself and my personal struggles into Y/n, but don't read into that too much, okay? Okay. ) This fic is on the darker side of what I normally write, but I hope all who peep will enjoy themselves! :D ...Now I'ma go finish this finals project I got before I fuck up my grade-

Tagging: @nursedflowers / @kazusys, and @saioratral

Humans are odd creatures. They do things that may otherwise inconvenience them for absolutely no reason.

They could have a broken leg, but will still find the time to entertain friends by going out. They could be holed up in their room doing important work, but will still stop and greet their beloved when they arrive home. They could stumble upon a body in a lake and still fish it out and attempt to resuscitate it. It's strange, but what's even stranger are those humans. You know, the ones who would do things like that for a complete stranger without batting an eye.

"Are you alright?" A soft chirp echoed—one like a feather that surprisingly didn't get swept away by the harsh winds.

It was nothing like her voice.

Upon looking up, indigo hues fill with intricate floral patterns weaved delicately in a circle. Its varying colors twist and intertwine, filling the circle and providing shade and leaving those who fall under it to marvel at its beauty—which didn't soil or gray despite the downpour of rain that hit it.

That said, having been completely consumed in the art of the umbrella, it took another soft call to snap out of the trance..only to be sucked right back into it upon gazing up.

 "I noticed that you have been sitting in the rain for quite some time now. That isn't healthy, you know?" Their voice matched their features; smooth like a porcelain doll, but not nearly as tough as one; gentle, just like the silk that covered their body.

 "Do you have nowhere to go?" Upon hearing the question, the boy’s lips—which were formerly tucked into a neat line—dipped. It was unnoticeable against his pale skin, but the tender eyes that stared down at him seemed to be sharp like a hawks' and noticed it right away.

 "I suppose that means yes."

Their hand reached out to him after saying that and he found himself leaning away instinctively, making him susceptible to the sky's sorrow which drowned his already slick hair in even more chilling rain.

He's immediately saved again, and this time, he was able to watch his savior in action as they tilt their hand, tilting their gorgeous artwork forward enough to completely shield him again albeit at the cost of their own protection.

The rain took pleasure in dousing their hair, deepening it's color a little from the sheer amount it intakes. Ultimately, it's unable to take all of it and falls down on all sides, dripping down their skin, their eyelashes, nose, and lips, to where all the water meets at a point at their chin and drops from it to the wet soil at their feet like a leaky faucet.

Nevertheless, he watched a smile stretch across their face. A sight that he had begun to believe could only look so beautiful on a wandering snow spirit.

 "Please, young sir. Come with me. I have a place that could shield the both of us from the rain for the night.."

And in a trance, he—though tentatively—reaches forward and puts his hand in theirs. The warmth that touched him in that moment immediately shattered the illusion that hypnotized him and he blinks upon finding himself being tugged along by the hand. It brought on a perplexed swirl in the abyss he called a stomach and spurred him to ask the golden question, "Why are you doing this?"

And that question earned him another golden smile, unfortunately only for a quick second when they glanced back at him. It was never answered, and despite that, it didn't bother him.

Nothing did in that moment as the only thing he could focus on was the heat that spread throughout his hand which radiated from their palm.

Humans are odd creatures. They go against the purposes given to them at birth for the simplest reasons.

 "You're a man?" Was the question that filled the silence, his words filled with his almost accusing tone at the face of their casual confession.

You didn't mind, putting on the smile of a saint as tanzanite hues scrutinize and judge you as if you were some complex painting in a museum.

 "Yes, I am," You answered simply, and he once again, eyes you up and down with eyes full of disbelief. As if you had just revealed that you had a second head or something. You weren't offended. Compared to the other stares you've been given in the past, his seemed rather merciful.

 "Why do you dress like that if you're a boy?" He asks after a while; another rather offensive question that he asks with utmost innocence.

 "Because it makes me feel nice," You reply simply, and to that, your new friend looked utterly perplexed. As if you had just given him intricate, complex instructions on how to defeat the shogunate. From that reaction, you assume he was probably raised in a rather conformist household.

That said, his genuine confusion felt like a breath of cool air hitting your face after venturing days in a scorching desert, as sad as that is to admit.

 "Where are your weapons? Your armor? Your mannerisms and speech let me know you come from a noble home, so where are your servants and concubine? What do you do for work?" He shot out questions as if he only had a few grains of sand left in his hourglass. It was like he feared that if he didn't ask all his questions now—and all at once—he'd never get an answer to them. Not that you'd be so cruel as to leave your curious new acquaintance so bewildered.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, but I don't have any such means of protection," You start off slowly, but as your eyes trail down at the two needles in your slender hands—needles which had thin threads of silk woven around the points of them—you found yourself chuckling to yourself, "Though if you'd ask my father, he'd tell you that my reason for that is because I lack the determination and courage to tread the path of a proper warrior — He was a high-ranking samurai for the majority of my youth, you see.."

"As for the servants and..consorts…they're really not my thing. I find bossing someone around and using people to flaunt my own status and wealth to be rather brutish. Though, I will admit I'm quite familiar with the practices. Heh, I was practically raised by my fathers' wives and female servants growing up. Maybe that's why.."

You pause, and in the end, you shake your thought away instead of voicing the rest of it aloud. It wasn't important to the conversation at hand anyways.

 "Digressing from that, my ways of making money aren't as noble as my family's either. In fact, one would say it's quite pitiful in comparison; once a week, I go out into the nearby town and I sell my creations. Stuffed animals, knitted clothing, excess crops, and the like. I don't make all the money in the world, but I make more than enough to get by as you can see," And you flick your wrist absentmindedly at one of the corners of your room, mindlessly gesturing at whatever filled the space to better prove your point.

Your guest had been struck silent once again. It seemed he was still rather muddled. You understand it. Like many you've encountered, you were probably an enigma to him, one willing to go against all that has been taught and practiced for centuries just because of simple ideations and pleasures that someone such as yourself should never enjoy in the first place.

..Or so you thought. As you gazed up at your guest, his face made you unsure of what he was truly thinking at that moment. It was something you hadn't seen before—unlike those judge-filled, disgusted, and even pitiful gazes you had been given by many in the past. It sparked your curiosity, causing you to ask him the golden question that had laid dormant at the back of your mind.

 "Does any of this.. Do I bother you?"

His response came delayed, but you found his answer that came more valuable than actual gold. More relieving than any cool breeze or sweet treat. More rewarding than any war won or title granted. More comforting than any of the stormy nights that distracted you from your whirlwind of thoughts.

And, oddly enough, such a response was quite simple. Only three words, in fact.

 "Not at all."

Humans are odd creatures, but they can be patient and forgiving at times. Plus, being the warm-blooded creatures that are allows them the blessing of a naturally-warm, comfortable body.

 "Crap," The cursed utterance left the lips of a mouth who's felt nothing but the bitter tang of frustration coat its tongue all afternoon. The uncivilized profanity did nothing to soothe the taste in his mouth nor did it smoothen out the crinkles made by his furrowed brows. It didn't even relieve the tremble of anger in his blood-pricked hands or the aggression of his movements as his fingertips worked a string of tangles with the needles he was holding.

Knitting is awful. How do people find this relaxing? Ever since he's started, he's felt nothing but vexation, pain, and embarrassment! Not only that, but he's made zero progress after so long that he's practically forgotten what he was supposed to be making in the first place! He hates—no, despises this with his entire being!

 "Having a bit of trouble?" He heard you ask, and somehow, half of his stress fell away like a slab of rock on the side of a mountain just from hearing your voice. He doesn't get why you have such powers over him seeming as you're a complete stranger. ..Was your voice charmed by some kind of magic perhaps? Were you possibly a god in disguise?

Whatever the reason was, he found himself praying that you never stop talking if he were to ever find out.

 "Here, let me show you a trick," Your breath was fanning his ear before he knew it and your skin was warming his shortly afterwards. He froze in place, still and quiet unlike the noisy rainwater he can hear descending from the skies outside—the rain that has kept him trapped here for literal days now.

He's not complaining.

It was only when your palms found place against the back of his hands that his body relaxed. Your hands were soft unlike the many generals and the blacksmiths he had met before his forced abandonment of his previous life. It felt nice. As if flower petals were cradling his hands.

You smelt just as good as a flower too. He had never been this close to you before so he hadn't noticed it, but now that his back is to you like this..it was as if he was laying in a flowerbed.

Do men always smell this good? He doubts it. Most likely, this scent was completely unique. A fragrance only you could naturally produce. Archons does he wish—

 "—and that's how you do it," He blinks, snapping back to reality where he stares down at the cloth now weaved together with expert precision to form a bunny's ear.

You had helped him make a breakthrough at last..and he had been too busy daydreaming about how it would feel to be hugged by you to watch and learn how you even did it.

..But he doesn't feel regret looming when the realization comes nor does his annoyance return. Or maybe it has and it just hasn't set in yet. He can't tell right now, not when he's feeling as if he had just been warmed by the sun after being frozen for a millennia.

 "Alright, now you try," He hears your words, but they don't process as fast as your hands leaving him does. Nothing really processes quicker than that. Not his frown. Not his disappointment. Not anything.

But not processing something doesn't make it unclear to others. Upon seeing his downcast expression, your brows quirk up in confusion.

 "Is there something on your mind, my new friend?" You inquired, but your question is never answered. Instead, you watch as his saddened eyes turn owlish and his head spins in the opposite direction of you as he mutters something under his breath.

 "I'm sorry, but can you repeat that?" You asked softly, leaning closer in order to hear him better.

 "Can you..show me how to do that again. Please.." He repeated, and in doing so earned the harmonious gift that was your chuckle and the warmth of your hands on him once again.

 "Sure. So what you do is.."

Humans are odd creatures. They'd sacrifice countless hours of their already short life, go to ridiculous lengths doing things, and even put aside their fragile well being to do things that are completely irrelevant just because of their belief that what they do will make someone happy.

 "I'm back!" The sweet chirp of your new housemate—which you and the villagers of the neighboring town have begun to call Kabukimono— echoed through the small abode of your now shared home after not having the pleasure to in about three days or so.

After moving in a week prior, Kabukimono had been adamant on pulling his own weight to prove that he was worth keeping around despite you having the compassion to allow him to be a freeloader otherwise. That said, after your own clumsiness in the field left you with a sprained ankle, your kind new friend had offered to go out and sell all of this week’s goods on your behalf and how could you refuse such an offer when he looked so happy and eager to help out little ol' you?

Well, the real answer to that was that he gave you no choice in the matter, but you digress.

 "I'm in here," He heard you call from the kitchen and he immediately set off in that direction, just barely remembering to slip off his shoes at the door from how eager he was to see you.

If it wasn't obvious already, it had taken some time—both the journey to and from the village and the actual process of conversing with people and getting them to buy everything—but he believes he did pretty good. At the very least, everything was sold. He even managed to make enough to buy you something with some of the excess money!

 "Y/n! I got—! ..Huh?" His words died as quickly as his pace as he stilled to a full halt at the entryway. His eyes grew wide bit by bit as he took everything in.

Banners of silk and thread had been strung along the walls, flashing their abstract patterns of blue and purple at anyone who'd spare a glance. Candles—which are usually set alight atop your nightstand and bookshelf in our room—now clumped and coddled on the table like one big sun with the varying foods surrounding them posing as the stars that helped light up the wooden sky they sat on.

But such a beautiful display was only given a moment's glance as Kabukimono seemed more interested in what you thought was a less-than-average sight; yourself.

Nevertheless, the adoration you felt seeing the sparkle of surprise in his eyes—even if for only a second or so—made you crack a smile as you recited the line you had gone over just about a million times during the time you spent waiting for him to arrive.

 "Welcome home, Kabukimono."

He was at a loss for words and not for the reason you wanted him to be. With the intent of easing his perturbed shock, you walked towards him, steady and slow, but all that proved to do was snap him out of the spell your heavy eyebags and dreary, drooping eyes had put him under.

 "What is all of this? And more importantly, why are you standing? You're not supposed to be putting pressure on that ankle!" He quickly met you the rest of the way, and to your dismay, he had beat you to the comforting, his hands shooting out to grip you by the hips and ease your bandaged leg of your body's weight.

Ignoring his other questions, you began explaining, telling him, "It's a celebration feast. You told me yourself that you, along with not having a name, you haven’t had a home to call yours yet. I thought it would be good to make an occasion out of you finding one at last."

Kabukimono felt bad to admit this even in his own head, but your words were going in one ear and out the other. Yes, he had asked, but you weren't giving him answers to the other questions he simply found more important at the moment, and because of that, it caused his face to look rather tense. Certainly not cheery like you had hoped.

It seems you have made a mistake. It wasn't a surprise, it was you after all, but the thought still hurt considering how much time it took preparing for this moment.

And so, in an attempt to lighten your thoughts and the overall mood, you ask him, "Aren't you happy?"

And unfortunately, your dear housemate didn't answer in the way you had wished he would, instead replying with, "Why would I? You look like you're about to drop dead!"

 "I'm fine," You said; a futile attempt of reassurance when you probably looked like a Sumerian Akademiya student who just finished pulling an all-nighter to write a one-hundred page research paper.

 "As if!" Kabukimono said. That's when he slung your arm over his shoulder, forcing your bodyweight onto him without your permission, and began trudging you along in the direction of your room.

 "What're you doing—" "Taking you to your room so you can lie down like you probably haven't been doing!"

 "Seriously, you should take better care of yourself! Don't tell me this is normal for you.. If it is, I won't be able to let you out of my sight from now on!"

In the end, both the feast and Kabukimono's gift for you had been forgotten. Even though you ended up enjoying it later, your sadness about the initial surprise being ruined was hard to get over even with the delight of a new hairpin being added to your collection..

Humans are odd creatures. Their inability to do much makes them become overawed by the simplest things. Their eyes shine just from seeing a coin flipped in an unorthodox way and they clap and gasp watching the stars twinkle overhead. It’s so nice to see stupid.

 “You know how to dance?” The excitable question left your usually composed lips as you stared at Kabukimono with stars in your eyes.

 “Well...I used to perform sword dances so I suppose yes,” He clarifies, arms crossed as he stared off at the wall to his left with full interest. His azure eyes darkened as if someone had pulled wool over them only to light up like a room to an oil lamp at the question that followed his response.

 “Can you show me?” The way you asked him reminded him of a little kid asking their mother to buy them a toy; full of innocent expectancy. It made his lips thin into a line just hearing it.

It had been ages since he’s danced, and in the past, there weren’t many who gawked at or praised him for his moves. Not his mother. Not any of her servants or soldiers. Certainly not her familiar. At the time, he hadn’t cared about their reactions much at all, seeming as the purpose of his dancing wasn’t for frivolous entertainment, but you, however, were different. You weren’t his mother who had abandoned him. You weren’t the servants or soldiers who never spoke to him. You aren’t his mother’s glaring familiar. You’re you, and the thought of seeing such a lackluster expression painted on your face puts a bad taste in his mouth. It makes him gnaw at his bottom lip from the feeling of a wave rocking unsteadily in his stomach cavity. It made him feel..anxious.

 “Ah..” His mouth felt like chalk—uncomfortably dry—as he spoke and his eyes couldn’t remove themselves from the walls he was surely burning holes into with his nervous glare as he tried to find something—anything—to refute you. He, at last, does and sputters it out in an uneven tone, “But..you aren’t going into battle though.”

You hum in acknowledgement, and for a moment, he thought he could successfully negate you from the topic, but then your lips move to say, “Sword dances are to summon strength, right? Though they’re performed for battles, war isn’t the only thing that requires strength. Farming, cooking.. Even getting out of bed in the mornings needs some strength to complete. When put in that way, don’t you think I’m in need of just as much strength as one of the Shogunate’s men?”

 “We- Well, a typical sword dance requires a sword and a fan and we don’t have anything like that lying around the house,” He shoots out. His brows knitting at the odd feeling of his skin damp with moisture he wasn’t aware he could produce before now.

 “I do have a fan,” You retort, “It’s mainly preserved for hot weather, but it'd be perfect for this occasion! And for the sword..ah! Would a wooden stilt suffice? It’s a little longer than the typical sword, but if I were to shave it down a bit..”

 “I..” He looks at you, face uncharacteristically spooked as he repeats himself, sounding like a broken record at this point, “I.. I..” but you don’t pay it much mind as your excitement gets the better of you and you chalk up his reaction as pre-performance jitters before running to find the items needed, leaving Kabukimono no choice but to watch helplessly like some baby kitten.

In the matter of an hour, he was outside. His body donning one of your many creations while holding a summer fan and wooden stick that didn’t come close to matching anything he was wearing. You—smile etched on your face despite feeling as though you were being stabbed all over—sat a little aways from him on the white cushions that had completely covered the green grass, patiently yet eagerly awaiting for the invisible curtains to rise and for his feet to begin to move.

Despite the biting cold, his hands were slick with sweat, forcing him to grip the wood and fan with inhumane force as to not drop it. His breath came out thick and labored, freezing over immediately upon leaving his lips and ultimately coming out as puffy, white clouds. His only saving grace here was that his feet were firmly planted into the dirt circle you paved out just for his little show. It was even rid of the transparent icy layer; an astonishing feat to be done in so little time.

Even from where he stood, he could see the reddening of your face and hands. The slight tremble of your limbs.. You were freezing to death, that much was certain, but you didn’t care. That’s just how adamant you were to see him perform.

And so, feeling as though he had no other choice, he began. His feet started to glide, starting slow as did his arms—languid and mesmerizing—before it began to pick up just a little whenever he’d twirl or spin or hop. He was sure his movements were sloppy, that his improvision to the original dance he was taught shone through like a stain to white cloth..but as he snuck a glance your way, he found himself uncaring.

..Because the way you looked at him was as if you were gazing up at a god who had just saved your life; amazement brightened your hues like comets in the sky as you followed his every move, utterly enraptured by him. He had managed to evoke that from you. Only him.

Ironically, he had found he himself charmed by your expression and microexpressions. Completely hypnotized as he slid and flowed around the small circle, his clothing–the clothing you had gifted to him—fluttering like angel wings which only further added to the beauty of each swing he took with the stick.

But alas, as the dance went on, Kabukimono found himself going into autopilot. Simply going about the motions as he took every chance possibly to glance your way, his eyes like a distant memory—a past life—whenever they locked with yours..

Humans are odd creatures. Deceptive by nature too. Without a perceptive gaze and trained ears to catch onto their lies, they could make you believe anything as the truth.

 "Hey, Kabukimono, could you pass me the carrots I cut up over there?" You asked, using your head to gesture over in the direction of where you had left the cut carrots on the low table. Kabukimono jumped to your request; crossing the kitchen, picking up the bowl, and walking back over to where you sat comfortably at the kotatsu in record time.

He hands it to you, and with a flick of your wrists, the orange delicacies had joined the rest of the vegetables in the boiling pot on the table. Kabukimono sits back on his knees as you do this, taking comfort in propping his elbow up on the wooden surface before laying his head on his fist as he watches the slow travel of white steam erupt from the pot into the air. His eyes like staring on like a dormant beast at the boiling vegetables crackling as he sighs dreamily at the smell of heaven they produce.

He didn't need to eat. He had told you that at some point in time along with other things, and yet, you had somehow trained him to yearn for food regardless—to salivate when he saw a tasty-looking dish and even grow excited at the thought of what to cook for dinner. It was such a mundane thing that was once so foreign to him. Such a human pleasure and yet he so eagerly partook in it regardless. All because of you. All for you.

Another thing he does because of you now is small talk. Before, if there were silence between him and another person he'd embrace it without a second thought and wouldn't leave that comfort unless forced to—and even then, only a select few would actually elicit a response from him. Nowadays though, it seems he grows quite restless whenever words aren't filling the air. Though, this applied more so with you than anyone else.

 "How did it go in town?" He asked, "You were selling those new cat-shaped stuffed toys you worked yourself ragged making..so? Did anybody like them?"

To such a simple question, your reaction was bewildering. The way your grip tightened on the ladle, the narrowing of your eyes and brows, the tut of your lip.. It all gave a bad vibe.

And so he frowned and asked, "Did they not like them after all? ..Or did something—"

 "It's nothing," And you presented him a closed-eyed smile, both your expression and your grip on the ladle relaxing as you went on to further say, "I just..thought about this girl I met at the villager. I assume she was an orphan from her attire and the way she followed me around without a care.. Anyways, she ended up tripping and hurting her knee pretty badly so I gave her one of the cat plushies, free of charge.”

 "Anyways, the food is ready so let's drop this topic. After all, we don't want it to get cold," The topic changed as suddenly as it came. Odd, seeming as how you're usually rambling all afternoon and evening about your travel to the village, sparing absolutely no detail about even the tiniest things.

The thought lingered for a time, but as he watched you stuff your mouth and saw your eyes shine joyously at the wonderful flavor that coated your tongue as you began to ramble about your relief about the dish turning out good despite this being your first time trying out the recipe, that thought eventually fluttered away with the wind that came through the crack in your sliding doors that allowed more of the evening oranges and yellows to seep into your home.

You were probably just really hungry and eager to eat, he thought as he finally took a bite of the potato he had picked up with his chopsticks, his eyes closing as he hummed out in delight at the taste.

Unbeknownst to him, your face dropped as soon as his eyes closed, your eyes uncharacteristically fogged and dull, as if it were displaying the thick fog that shrouded your mind, your thoughts, your heart. It was a fog that Kabukimono never caught on to, blissfully unaware of what stained your mind, body, and soul.

Humans are odd creatures. Their outside appearance never matches how they feel or the thoughts that poison their mind. They never voice those thoughts either, making it impossible to guess what’s truly going on with them. There are some who’d bless you with a morsel of their inner world—give you a crumb of the turmoil that constantly leaks in their head—making you feel as though you’ve truly come to understand them when in reality, you haven’t even scratched the surface.

It was the middle of the night. The once navy blue sky that had overcasted the world when the sun first fell was now dark due to even the stars going into hiding to slumber, leaving the moon as the only beacon of light to shed away the shadows. It was pitch black everywhere you turned and cicadas buzzed loudly outside, likely complaining about the sweltering heat of the summer, making it impossible to even hear yourself think. It was like some mundane hell.

So why were you out here?

It happened by chance. He had heard some odd noises and went to investigate it. Not expecting to see a silhouette walking out of the door. Thinking it was some thief, he followed after the person, and as the sounds of the cicadas grew distant and an earthy smell invaded his nostrils, the silhouette became less and less obscure. Becoming as clear as day by the time the person had reached their destination.

That person was you.

 “..What is this place?” The question came tumbling out before he could stop himself, his words loudly piercing the quiet of the night. It alerts you of his presence at long last and has your head spinning in his direction.

 “Oh.. It’s just you, Kabukimono’.. Heh, you scared me,” You said. Your head turns forward once again as you force your shoulders to relax, allowing the basket on your back to slide down your arms and to the ground. As you slowly set yourself atop the gentle grass, Kabukimono takes a step forward. Then another, and another, until he’s right beside you, who was digging for the items in the basket.

After a moment of silence allows you to, at last, gather everything needed out of the basket, Kabukimono decides to ask his question once again..or he planned to. As he opens his mouth to let his words free, your voice breaks the silence.

 “There used to be a small village here,” You told him, your hands beginning to twist two long stocks together, “If you go the opposite way of the path we usually tread, you can still find the remnants of what it used to be.”

 “The village's main source used to be this lake. Everyone relied on it for everything. To drink, to cook, to bathe.. Even some of the oddest ways of entertainment came from here..” You laughed, but it was drier than any desert depicted in the novels in your room. It felt wrong to hear—kinda like hearing a baby’s cry come from a grown man—and it felt almost unnerving to have it come from someone like you, who he’s come to associate with the sun itself.

But you were probably really tired. Looking at you, the deep bags that hang your eyelids down indicates you probably haven’t gotten much sleep lately which makes sense seeming as you’ve been running around and, as you told him, ‘preparing’ for something really important.

He wonders what it is you’re preparing for. Whenever he’d ask, he’d never get an answer..

 “This lake, though bound by the earth to this one place, saved that village so many times that the townsfolk began to believe that some powerful being was secretly living in the depths of it and protecting them. They began to idolize it, nurture and take care of it, and spoke about it as if this little lake was some otherworldly deity which created tall tales and legends that they’d go on to tell their children…believe it or not, I once took part in such absurdity.”

 “So..what happened to the village?” Kabukimono hesitates to ask. After all, the obvious context clues pointed him in a tragic direction, but he couldn’t resist his own curiosity in the end. Not when the look in your eyes—that were lit by the lantern of the water’s ripples—reflected nothing but pure sorrow.

At his question, you took a glance his way. As you broke away from the lake that practically glowed in the moonlight, your eyes were stripped of the illuminating gleam of the waves and casted into the darkness of the night. In fact, if it weren’t for the lake, he probably wouldn’t have been able to see your face at all.

Part of him wished that had happened. If it did, he wouldn’t have been forced to stare into the abyss that had overtook your hues for those small handful of seconds.

 “The lake failed them,” You finally spoke shortly after returning your gaze to the water, “A fire of unknown origins enveloped it in the dead of night. It wiped out half the village and forced the other half to flee for safety..some of which came to me, who lived on the outskirts of town.”

 “No one knew how it started. After all, fire wasn’t anywhere close to being the most accessible resource they had. It was a luxury, even. It also never spread past the village and by sunrise, it ceased to exist altogether. The oddity of the situation made the survivors believe that it was some punishment from their lake deity,” As you went on, you had been weaving the strands until one end had connected to the other in a circle—though your sloppy craftsmanship caused it to look more like an oval in your opinion.

As eyesore of a sight it was, you persisted. Your hands reach for the clipped flowers beside you, "That thought clouded their minds and the thought of disappointing their all-forgiving god drove them mad,” Kabukimono watched as you spoke, sticking flowers in one by one and twisting it into the circle, making the dank green pop with each pristine white you carefully placed around it.

 “Convinced that it was their fault everything was lost, the surviving villagers went about the rest of their days repenting by praying to the lake from sun up to sun down...until the waters rose and they disappeared while being enveloped by the deity's embrace."

The story seemed like something straight out of a fairytale. Nonsensical like a myth that he usually wouldn't believe...but the same could be said about his very existence. With that in mind, who is he to be so narrow-minded? He decided to keep his thoughts to himself, locking them tight behind his lips as you continued.

 "The lake failed them. It made a fatal mistake. Saved not one villager from that fire, yet nothing changed. Not their love nor their devotion..if anything it only made them see this lake in an even more divine light...so why didn't the same happen for me?"

The tail end of your sentence made him perk up with unease and as his brows knitted together, Kabukimono opens his mouth as he worriedly asked—or rather, attempted to ask, “What do you mean—” but you shifted the topic faster than he could get the full sentence out.

 “ Do you remember the tales I would tell you about my childhood—my brother specifically? ..I ran into him some time ago while I was out selling in the village.”

 “Whether they wanted to seize from me the goods I was selling that day—or perhaps mistook me for a woman and wanted to have their fun with me as some men have in the past—they began harassing me quite aggressively,” You started, “They bothered me for quite awhile and grew progressively violent the more I tried to politely get them to leave me be—one of them even snatched me up by the wrist. That’s when he intervened.”

 “He didn’t recognize me, not that I’d expect him to. After all, I’ve changed a lot since we were kids..and it seems the same went for him as well,” After placing all the whites of innocence, you went on to grab your smaller, yellow sundrops, your hands meticulously working them in between the white flowers as you continued talking in a cheerful tone. 

 “Though it’s only been a decade or so since I’d last seen or spoken to him, he’s already been through so much. He told me himself, you see, that he had just returned from the war and was passing through villages trying to find a suitable gift.. Can you guess for what?”

 “I don’t know..maybe your parents?” Kabukimono guessed; the wrong answer. You didn’t give him another chance to theorize.

 “It was for his wife and daughter,” You corrected, and if once wasn’t enough, you repeat yourself, “He was returning home to his wife and four year old daughter and wanted to get them something special.”

Gaining the courage once again, Kabukimono attempted to question the point of this conversation in the first place by asking, “What’s wrong with that?” He grew hopeful at first when you allowed him to get his words out. Maybe, at last, he could get his questions answered, he thought.

He thought wrong.

 “He’s really tall now, you know? —I mean, he was always taller than me, but now he’s like a tree! When we spoke face to face, I had to crane my neck all the way back to look up at him,” His question is, once again, ignored as if he never asked it. He began to frown, not liking the thought of you possibly ignoring him, but that crease in his skin quickly grew less prominent when he caught a glimpse of your joyful smile.

 “He’s also got big muscles and a handsome smile,” You add, “That paired with his headstrong, chivalric nature..I’m not surprised that he’s made a name for himself and started a family in such a short time,” Your voice then drops to a murmur as you turn you creation left then right, inspecting it as said, “In only a small handful of years, he’s achieved someone’s dream and so much more.. He’s managed to exceed even the impossible and make everyone proud..he’s truly amazing..”

You grasp at pink petals—deteriorated by the chilling weather—as you fit them as you see fit. Filling in each space like a piece of a puzzle.

 “That encounter made me think back to the lake. It made me realize how similar we are. We’re both fragile and delicate and were surrounded by people who’d still expect us to give away our bones despite already relinquishing our flesh and blood…so what went wrong with me?”

 “Wh.. What?” He stammered. You lift your handiwork into the air, presenting it to the moon for judgement before you finally repeat yourself..

 “What went wrong? I made mistakes just like the lake, so why wasn’t I given the benefit of the doubt? Why did my family–my father–abandon me?”

Abandon. That word stuck to him like a burn to his skin and it felt as if he had just opened his eyes for the first time in a century. It made him realize all the little things at last; how tense the air was, how dim your eyes were, how often your brows twitched, how your eyes seemed like glass balls, how forced your smile seemed.. The illusion he had absorbed himself shattered in that instant, allowing reality to set in like a heavy weight. The person who sat beside him, the one who he’s come to view as the sun that brightened up his day, had looked so different in that moment that he could mistake them for an entirely different person. Did they always look like that? If so, for how long? How long has his sun been this dim? And why didn’t he notice it sooner?

 “I’m sorry, that was cruel of me to ask you that,” You profess in a raspy whisper before turning to him, plopping the finished product—a tri-colored flower crown—atop his head as you mutter, “There’s no way you can answer that.. It was my mistake..”

Kabukimono blinks, his eyes looking up as he tries to peer at the crown to no avail. It was like watching a kitten play with a toy; adorable. Kabukimono didn’t catch it, but upon seeing such a cute sight, you bit down on your bottom lip as your eyes narrowed—damn nea glaring—his way. Luckily, you catch yourself before he notices, trying to laugh it off as you look over at the lake once more. Though your laugh was even drier than the previous one that left your lips and came tumbling out of your mouth like gravel.

 “You know, you remind me so much of my brother,” You said, “You have so much potential to live whatever life you want, to make everyone happy and still keep yourself intact..I almost envy you.”

Kabukimono—hands delicately tracing the rim of the flower crown on his head—grimaced at your comment. Envy. Such a negative feeling to harbor towards him and for no reason at all. After all, he’s nothing special. If he was, surely she wouldn’t have discarded him and left him to rot alone. Alas, before he can tell you that, you started rambling again.

 “I used to make mistakes all the time when I was younger. Especially with swords,” You told him, though it looked more like you were talking to the lake at your knees by the way you were so intently gazing at it, “I just couldn’t get the hang of it. That applied to a lot of things my father tried to teach me… Heh, it makes sense why he gave up on trying after my brother was born.”

 “Wh- What are you saying..?” Kabukimono asked. It came out as a hoarse whisper that was easily carried away by the warm winds and far away from your ears. Hence why you continued instead of answering, surely.

 “You asked me once about the story behind how my obsession for knitting came about.. Why I enjoy it so much.. Well, the reason I never told you was because the truth is quite silly in hindsight; it was to apologize to my father.”

 “I felt sorry for him. After all, his oldest son—who was supposed to carry on and lift a weight off his shoulders–was completely hopeless in every way. I truly did feel bad..and so I thought the least I could do was ease his mind—to reassure him that his useless son could do something right.”

 “You shouldn’t talk about yourself like that–” “After keenly watching my mother sew clothes and observing the female servants make clothing they could otherwise not afford, I was able to do something out of these impractical hands..” You held your hands up and kabukimono winces at the sight. They look like the aftermath of an intense fight, scars—some new, some old—littered your skin, some even stained it with the ugly dark crust that forms when the skin begins to heal. Did they always look that way? “Would you like to know what I made?”

 “I– I’m not—” “I made a fox. A tiny little fox attached to a string,” You said, “I thought it would be cute if he would tie it around the hilt of his sword and carry it around — similar to how one would a good luck charm. I was so excited when I finally finished and ran straight to my father's dojo on the far edge of our home to show it to him.”

 “Y/n–” “At the sight of my creation, my father frowned so deeply I thought his face would become permanently creased by it. ‘Is this what you waste your idle time doing?’ he asked me before cutting my little fox to shreds. ‘No wonder you’ve become such a disappointment! You sit around knitting animals instead of dedicating yourself to training!’ he went on to say.”

 “He went to grumbling under his breath after that. He kept his voice low, but I still heard what he said.. Wanna guess? He said—”

 “Y/n, stop!” The sound of shuffling of him as he stumbles to his feet is loud—though small in comparison to the boom of his scream. You pause, surprised albeit you barely show it—or rather, you’re barely able to force yourself to react—only being able to slowly blink his way in the end as you stare up at your darling housemate, who’s pretty eyes had welled up with tears.

 Stop..please..” He pleaded. A sniffle pushing him past the line of embarrassment, causing him to hide his face from you, “I- I beg of you.. Don’t say another word..not if you plan to degrade yourself like this!”

 “..Kabukimono, don’t..—” He hears you call from the other side of the barrier he created between the two of you, but he’s finally quicker, interrupting you for the first time tonight.

 “Your family abandoned you, but that helped you find your way to me,” He choked, “They didn’t see your worth for what it truly was..but that allowed me to! Who cares what they think of you? How they perceive you? They aren’t in your life anymore, I am! So stop talking down on yourself like they are!” With every word that leaves his lips—that seep through the unseen slits between his fingers—Kabukimono seems to crack more and more until he falls apart, collapsing to the ground in a fit of sobs which causes the flower crown to fall ungracefully off his head.

 “I- I’m in your life now, and I don’t care what you’re good or bad at! I don’t have any expectations for you to meet! It doesn’t matter if you don’t meet society’s standards! I don’t care about any of that. I just want to stay by your side! Isn’t that enough? Aren’t I enough?”

 “Kabukimono..” You call. A moment of silence passes and a chime of bells in the form of your choked sobs fill his ears as you snivel, “No.. No, no— I- I'm sorry. Don’t cry, please don’t cry..”

He suddenly feels the warmth of your arms surrounding his kneeled being and he finds himself crying harder to the point every sorrowful yell and sniffle rattled his entire body. You had wrapped your arms around him in an attempt to comfort him, but it was rather pitiful and futile, seeming as you were sobbing yourself, repeating, “Sorry.. I’m so sorry..” over and over like it was your matra.

You two stayed like that; sobbing amongst the serene sound of the water until it drowned you two out altogether. After some time, your loud croaks had been reduced to weak whimpering—though if the reason for that was because your voice grew too hoarse to form proper words or another reason was unclear.

Neither of you cared, or at least, Kabukimono didn’t. All that he cared about was the feeling of being tangled in your arms and the sound of your heartbeat singing in his ear—which he had pressed against your chest.

 “Promise me,” He whispered, his voice rasp, “Promise me that you’ll be honest with me from now on. A- And promise me not to degrade yourself anymore..that you won’t think about the past..all of it. I want you to promise me that you’ll move on..with me,” He clutched at your kimono, crumpling the flowers on it with his grip as he awaited your response with bated breath.

And when you finally did—when you finally mumbled your response and in the exact way he wanted you to—he felt as though the sun had finally come out again, better and brighter than before..

 “I promise.”

Humans are odd creatures. They’re treacherous liars by nature who spew falsehoods for the sake of their own twisted amusement, uncaring of those affected by their games.

 “There was once a small village here. If you go the opposite way of the path we usually tread, you can still find the remnants of what it used to be.”

It’s been two weeks since you left for the village to sell goods. You still hadn’t returned.

It’d usually take no more than a few days for you to sell everything and come home, so after said days had passed and you were nowhere to be seen, he grew worried and—in the end—went to the village in search of you.

..But you weren’t there either. In fact, from what he gathered from asking around, you had left the village days ago.

 “The village's main source used to be this lake. Everyone relied on it for everything. To drink, to cook, to bathe.. Even some of the oddest ways of entertainment came from here..”

You weren’t here at the village, but you weren’t home either..so where had you gone? The question sunk into him, weighing him down like an anchor and causing his stomach cavity to drop. A feeling of dread set over him as he came upon the unsettling realization; you were missing.

Where had you gone? What happened when you left the village a few days ago? Had you been kidnapped? Grown more frantic with each thought that popped into his head, Kabukimono ran around, asking every villager he came across about you until he finally gained a morsel of information—a speckle of hope—when a man mentioned seeing someone that fit your description walk towards the entrance of the village with an empty, woven basket as big as themselves hanging on their back.

And without much thought, he took off in that very direction, heeding the man no mind any longer despite his warnings about the impending storm that was soon to consume the area.

 “This lake, though bound by the earth to this one place, saved that village so many times that the townsfolk began to believe that some powerful being was secretly living in the depths of it and protecting them. They began to idolize it, nurture and take care of it, and spoke about it as if this little lake was some otherworldly deity which created tall tales and legends that they’d go on to tell their children…believe it or not, I took part in such absurdity.”

Kabukimono remained unfazed when the path beneath his feet began to turn dark and slippery, when the graying sky finally shed its tears, when those tears dampened his clothing, not even when he nearly fell into a puddle. All that he could focus on was the possible places you would have gone and why the place you chose wasn’t home where he was.

 “So..what happened to the village?”

 “The lake failed them.”

 “Y/n! Where are you? Can you hear me?” After a while of running with no destination in mind, Kabukimono found it best to call out to you in hopes you’d make your way to him, call his name back, something–anything–that would hint towards you being near.

He raised his voice as high as he could, his voice likely being carried across nations from how loud he was, and yet, he was met with nothing but the deafening sound of thunder roaring to life. It was disheartening, but as he stood amongst the rain, the final wire in his head finally clicked and the memory of you sitting before crystal waters was pushed to the forefront of his mind.

It’s a slim chance, but maybe you had gone there and, for whatever reason, stayed.

In an instant, he was running at full speed once again, steering in the direction his memory remembered best.

 “A fire of unknown origins enveloped it in the dead of night. It wiped out half the village and forced the other half to flee for safety..some of which came to me, who lived on the outskirts of town.”

 “No one knew how it started. After all, fire wasn’t anywhere close to being the most accessible resource they had. It was a luxury, even. It also never spread past the village and by sunrise, it ceased to exist altogether. The oddity of the situation made the survivors believe that it was some punishment from their lake deity.”

 "That thought clouded their minds and the thought of disappointing their all-forgiving god drove them mad..”

He made it to the lake by nightfall—not that he could tell by looking up, seeming as it's been the same color since earlier that afternoon—and as if a light was shining down on it from the sky, the lake gleamed almost magically. Its darkened waters seemed to shine like a ruby even under the thick clouds and he sees the ripples from where he stood in the distance. The waves paving a clear way for him to follow, slowly leading up to the center where he spots something.. 

 “Convinced that it was their fault everything was lost, the surviving villagers went about the rest of their days repenting by praying to the lake from sun up to sun down…”

As he slowly walked closer, familiar strands of hair became noticeable. Though cut into uneven chunks and spread out to be nearly invisible in comparison to the deep red of the water that it floats in, he was sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. That said, he found himself following the strands to the origins of where they once flourished from. His eyes locked on the indistinguishable lump once again and he was sure that it and the reason he came here were unrelated��until something floating beside it caught his eyes.

That something was a hairpin. One with a golden base and purple and red flowers dancing along the edge of it…just like the one he bought you the day you decided to throw him that welcoming party.

 “...until the waters rose and they disappeared while being enveloped by the deity's embrace."

 “Y/n.. Y/n!” Despite the pressure of it dawning on him felt like two boulders falling on his shoulders, Kabukimono rushed into the water and immediately the white clothing that covered his being stained a murky crimson whilst a putrid smell invaded his nostrils. It made him feel sick—nauseated, even—but he did his best to push it all down as he clumsily swam towards the center of the lake.

It wasn’t true. This wasn’t happening. This surely can’t.. What’s floating amongst the water truly isn’t what he thinks it is.

It isn’t you. There’s no way. You made a promise that you still haven’t fulfilled, after all. You wouldn’t break your promise, not someone like you.

After what felt like an eternity, he reaches the center of the lake which he now notices is more of an inky black and only stretches as far as a few rogue strands. He grabs ahold of the lump, sucking in a breath when his fingertips sink in slightly as if pressing against a firm, wet cushion. It felt disgusting. He hesitates, but ultimately squeezes down enough to pull it along even with the sickening slick gushing at the pressure and making his grasp unsteady.

He reaches land at long last, immediately escaping onto the wet grass and tugging the lump out along with him. It looked less like a lump now, and though swole and looking like some abstract art piece, there was no mistaking it. It was flesh. This was a person, or rather, the remains of one..and they looked eerily similar to you even when all blotched and bloody, there was no denying that.

But even if this was you, there’s no way you could be dead. No, that’d be impossible. You have to be asleep. You had to have decided to take a dip in the lake and fell asleep. That’s the only thing that makes sense.

His shaky palms reach out to you and he touches you with his cold, wet hands that were actively getting more and more drenched with every raindrop that fell on them. He gently swept your hair from your face, tucked it tentatively behind your ear, and cupped your cheek.

His breath stutters. It was as if he was touching pure ice. But that can’t be possible. You’re his sun, his light, somebody like you shouldn’t feel like this.

..Well actually, it makes sense. You fell asleep in the water plus it’s raining. Even someone as warm as you would succumb to the cold under these circumstances. It makes sense. It’s okay. He’ll help you warm up in the comfort of your home as soon as he wakes you up.

He slides his hand down your face—past your now oddly grayed lips and down your neck—until he reaches your bare shoulder, which wrinkles had been exposed due to his rough handlings in pulling you out of the water by the drapes of your clothing. He promises to apologize when you awake. Because you will wake up. There’s no doubt. Because you’re just sleeping.

 “Y/n..” He calls softly. Too softly seeming as you remain unmoving. He decides to give your shoulder a gentle shake, calling your name once again, “Y/n.”

 “Y/n. It’s time to wake up,” Your lashes don’t flutter. You don’t grimace from the discomfort of his shaking growing more and more aggressive. You don’t do anything.

 “I don’t mean to disturb you, but you’ll probably get sick if you lie here in the rain any longer,” The same result. Blood begins to seep under his fingernails from how hard he’s digging his nails into your skin. He continues to shake you anyways, even going on to grip your other, covered shoulder.

 “Come on, you can’t sleep around forever. I- I planned to surprise you by making dinner all by myself tonight. It’s your favorite so you have to try it,” His nose was beginning to tingle from the odor that was invading it. Where was it coming from? Why is it so much stronger than before now that he’s closer to you? He forces his mind not to make the connection. Not that there was a connection in the first place. You were just sleeping, after all.

Just sleeping, nothing else.

Kabukimono’s hand trails down your arm, down past your wrist, to your hand where he enlaces his fingers with yours, “Come on,” He said, though his voice was quieter now, more shaky, and his words cracked like glass, allowing his desperation to seep through just a little, “We have to get home..”

 “I- I want to go home now, so let’s go..please..” He lifts your hand, raising your arm into the air and ignoring the deep, dark lines etched messily into your skin—the deepest looking one right over the vein of your wrist—and giving it a firm squeeze. You don’t reciprocate the action.

His grip loosens after a while and your fingers slide down his palm and flop to the ground beside you. You had to be really, really tired. But that’s okay, he’ll help you out!

He moves to hover over you, a grim smile etched on his face as he loops his arms around your waist and hoists you up. Your body collides with his as all your weight shifts to lean on him.

He holds you tightly, his head turning so as to not hit his nose against your chest and instead allows you to lean against the side of his face, his ear pricking up at the sweet symphony of...silence.

Sitting there, amongst the loud rain with his ear pressed against your chest—right over your heart—he’s met with deafening silence instead of the usual beat your heart strings typically produce. Your heart wasn’t playing its usual tune. It wasn’t playing anything, in fact, because it wasn’t beating. If your heart wasn’t beating anymore that meant you weren’t breathing anymore either which meant..you..

Tears—ones that he wasn’t aware of—were building up in his eyes, falling like a castle under attack. They slowly descended one after another, quickly fusing with the rainwater and forming as a long, thick stream along his cheek and past his mouth—which he had cracked open to bare his clenched teeth.

 “Y/n..what have you done?” He whispered. His voice sounded small like a baby fox’s cry for help; vulnerable and weak. He then repeats himself one last time, slowly, “..Why have you done this..?”

Silence. His teeth crackles under the pressure of him forcing them impossibly closer together.

 “Answer me,” He says through gritted teeth before yelling out, visibly and uncharacteristically enraged, “Answer me!”

Silence. He shakes you hard, your head rolling every which way like a ragdoll to the point it’d make one believe that any harder would cause it to roll right off your shoulders. Luckily, for his sake, it doesn’t.

 “You promised me!” He shouted, his voice then dipped, “..you promised me..”

Silence. A choke spells his demise quickly after that and his strength suddenly fails him, allowing your body—your corpse—to fall unceremoniously to the ground. He follows suit soon after, and when he does, he lets out a scream. One that clawed its way out from the depths of his chest, spilling his agony out of his throat and laying it bare for the entire world to see…alas, with nothing but the moon to comfort him.

Humans are odd creatures. Ones that cannot be trusted, no matter who they are or what past they may harbor, at least, that’s what Kabukimono.. Kunikuzushi…

That’s what Scaramouche has grown to believe after centuries of nothing but betrayal.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[futureplayboibunnie]

It’s canonically Miguel’s birthday soooo….a fluffy/cute/ lil steamy drabble? yes pls.

-

It was late, you and Miguel were both a little tipsy from the wine you plied each other with, but the night was starless, the fire was roaring, the city lights were gleaming and it was Miguel's birthday.

Miguel always hated his birthday. It was an unpleasant reminder of the years before him and the unforetold future ahead of him- all in all, it was an unsettling and borderline depressing experience, it was clear that everyone around him was viscerally aware of that. Even when he was in the warm blanketed safety of his own home, with the woman he wanted to spend his life with, it was still a struggle for him to not hate the predicament he put himself in. Your head rested on his lap while he was sat on the couch like a normal careless couple would do, your fingers stroked against him tenderly, normally, like it was second instinct but from this angle, you could tell his mind was wandering, twinges of apprehension and sullenness tweaked at his face so faintly, you almost didn't notice

“What's going on up there?” You said with a strained soft breath, your eyes flickered to his, the flames licking at the fireplace illuminated the deep crimson of his eyes. He looked so beautiful and you hated that he barely recognized it. Even now when he stroked your hand with his thumb, the familiar heat he ignited when you first wanted him crept its way back to you all this time.

“Nothing mi amor, let me just be here with you.”Miguel pursed his lips as he so obviously tried to dismiss the situation, he snapped his stare awayfrom yours. Your mind drew to a blank, unsure of what to even say after that but then you remembered, you didn'teven give him his gift yet. You shot up and Miguel instantly raised an eyebrow, watching you hurry away out of the room.

It was only a couple of seconds before you came back with a wrapped box with a cute little bow, a card, and a bouquet of roses.

“Oh my god.” Miguel said mildly but you could tell he was trying to stifle a giggle. He gave you a cute little defeated scoff and got up and came to you, slightly amused by this cute display you provided. He couldn't help but sigh dryly, he pondered you for a second, he had never felt so...appreciated. His heart fluttered in his chest at the realization. His eyes darted to the flowers and he chuckled and then looked back at you with a quiet playfulness.

“You bought me flowers.” He said flatly and smirked, you shoved the flowers in his face aggressive for him to smell them.

“You always buy me them, why can't I buy you some? What? Don't like 'em? Here sniff 'em.” You teased with a pretty smile and Miguel spluttered as he shoved them away

“Alright baby, I got it, I got it.” He protested playfully through short laughs, his smile was gorgeous and you were gawking at him like a lovesick fool.

“Open the card.” You say softly, handing him it, you flash him a flirty look, fluttering lashes sly smile and all. He quirked an eyebrow at yourlittle shift in tone and expression- he always hyper-analyzed you, and every single move you made, he he enjoyed it thoroughly. Even after all this time, he was still crazy about you, your tease, your ability to make him wonder. Miguel opened the card, intrigued by your boldness.

Happy birthday mi amor.

You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. You are the most incredible man I've ever known. I'm the luckiest girl in the world to get to be with you, care for you, love you.

This is your day. I want this all to be about you. I'll let you do anything you want to me, anything, fuck me any way you like. I'm yours. All yours. Tonight and forever.

All my love

Miguel's gaze softened when he read the sweet words, you knew exactly what to say to make him melt in your hands, he glanced up at you and your cheeks colored with a heated blush, a suggestive smirk playing at your lips. You were acting coy as if you weren't aware of what you had written just for him. Even when you were trying to be sincerely romantic, you couldn't help but slip how much you loved his cock.

“Dirty girl.” He said with a crooked smile, biting his lip, gaping into that gorgeous face he's been fascinated by since he met you. “God I love you.” He muttered when he cradled your face in has hands.

“Open it.” You handed him his little wrapped box, your eyes brightened as he took it and unwrapped it.

It was a box. With a few things stuffed inside of it.

There were many cute knicknacks inside of it: a frame with you and Miguel absolutely drunk off your tits at a party that you can’t even remember, Peter took that amusingly hideous photo and he wouldn’t let either of you forget it so instead you thought to embrace it. Funnily enough, you bought him a nail file for his talons with his name engraved on it and you just shrugged with a smug face and said it was when he was in the need for self care. Miguel scoffed dryly, you were enjoying himself. You also got him a real gold ring with his spider emblem engraved on it. He felt very appreciated indeed.

But what really caught his attention was the less wholesome side of it.

You gave him your tiny lacy panties that you knew he loved.

Nipple clamps? Really? Oh my God.

And then he came across it, the multiple polaroids of you naked for the camera. All for him. All his. You looked heavenly.

“Hmmm.” He hummed apppreciatively. Completely enjoying what he was looking at, your body was made for him, you looked adorable.

“You like it?” You ask sincerely but you always had that stupid, smug smirk on your face.

“Of course I do.” He chuckled before grabbing you, letting the box drop to the floor and picking you up off the ground, holding you as he nuzzled into your neck, you yelped in surprise but that soon melted into a soft breath as you inhaled his scent.

Miguel settled you down, his hands still wrapped around your waist, your fingers found hospice in his hair, you tucked a few loose tufts behind his ear.

“I love you, you know that cariño?” He muttered. “I’m not good at stuff like this, I hate my birthday…but you make me feel worthy of it.” His voice was barely audible but you were so close you could hear every syllable.

“I love you too….” You said before planting a soft chaste kiss on his lips. Miguel’s hand went to your hair, your soft pecks turning into deep, heady kisses. “Let me take care of you.” Your breathing become shallow as his hand gripped the back of your neck.

“I want slow.” He slurred against your already wine soaked lips, you always taste so sweet for him, sometimes he wanted to rub you down in honey or something other and just spend his night licking it off you. He’d consider that a beautiful way to die happy. “Want it slow.”

“Take me to bed.” You whispered, your voice gentle and thick all at once. Miguel tiptoed you to your room, he wanted to rip off that smug smirk off of your lips. But in the meantime, he wanted to make love to your body.

[committingcrimes-2047]

WRITERS BLOCK, FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!!

Warwick Vander x reader things below!

Lets pretend this is an alternate universe where Reader, Jinx, Isha and Vi get Vander away and live in a cabin hidden away from the rest of the world while they try to find a way to save Vander without Viktors help. Also Cait comes and visits occasionally because how could I leave out my favourite lesbians.

Imagining Warwick Vander becoming super possessive of Reader, I mean, he's super protective of his family- obivously but its different with Reader.

Reader can't go five minutes without the massive "man" sniffing them out and sticking to their side, lightly growling at them to stay by his side.

He won't go to sleep unless Reader is there, laying ontop of him with his arms wrapped around their body, their presence preventing nightmares from invading his head. On the rare occasion of him being woken of from those nightmares and panicking, Reader gently petting the fur on his body to help him calm down.

Imagine if Reader was out and got hurt by something or someone and the smell of their blood immediately alerting him of something wrong and he sprints toward the smell, finding the Reader injured and bleeding. He gently picks them up, holding them with one arm while he makes his way back to the rest of the family. Whatever or whoever hurt the Reader is most likley non-existant now

He has to restrain himself from from growling at whoever has to clean them up- Reader hissing from the pain of the pressure being put on the injury. He would guard them while they recover, whether its a small wound or a big one, he would insist that they relax and stay in bed until they recover.

Reader helps him stay calm and relaxed during the day, Jinxs loud music playing while she and Isha make little gadgets together. Vi and Caitlyn training, Cait only being able to visit every few weeks so she doesn't give away their little hide out and Reader and Vander just sitting together- with Reader probably sitting on his lap and his hands wrapped around their waist. The noise of their little family normally stressing him out but Readers presence keeping him calm.

At night, Reader and him sleep in a "nest" which is pretty much just a giant pile of various blankets and pillows, since he can't really fit in any bed they can find. In the middle of the night, when Jinx has really bad nightmares, she comes in- Isha in tow, cuddling up to her parents. Vi joins in after not finding Jinx or Isha in their rooms and finding them in the pile.

Reader manages to get to get Vander to play with them and Isha, but Isha instead decides to dye some of Vanders fur the bright colors. By the end of the day, Vander is covered in bright blues, pink, random ribbons, and stickers. Reader makes sure to get lots of photos of Isha climbing all over Vander, who spent most of the time asleep.

Alright thats all my ideas- FOR NOW!!! I'm battling with writers block and its treating me like this.

I hope you guys enjoy!!! These are ideas I've come up with over the past few days while suffering from my period, normally I can do alot more writing but I've just not been feeling great with some personal stuff so its been a struggle.

Anyway, please let me know if you guys want more of these! I've opened up my asks, so if youd like to request ideas or even talk about your Arcane OCs with me! I have been considering writing about other characters but I'm not super into alot of the other characters but if people wanna see that, I'd be willing to give it a shot- either way, please let me know!

@ghostface-mp4 :D

[januaryrabbit]

seventeen with a tall s/o who flusters them!! (๑>◡<๑)

pairing: svt x gn!reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mild cursing because i can’t be normal

other disclaimers/notes: author teasing/poking fun at svt LOL, barely proof read because i am sleepy and its 2am

a/n: hi everyone, I'M FINALLY BACK WITH ANOTHER POST lmao~ hope you all enjoy and THANK YOU MY TALL 😈 ANON HANNIE STAN FOR REQUESTING!! <3 i have more things in the works that i want to post soon, some svt, ateez and nct dream~ pls stay tuned, but for now enjoy!!!

✩‧₊˚seungcheol: SULK!!!!!!!!!!y!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! he will still try to protect you He Does Not Care. every time you get flirty with him he just starts pouting like “why are you treating me like this im a grown man…” kinda thing. he will literally try to reach things for you even though he can’t like he’s actively trying to beat you to the punch constantly LMAO!!!! he back hugs you a lot, and you just stand there awkwardly like “pls let me hug you, arent you uncomfortable with your face against my back???” and hes like “No im perfectly fine like this, i just want to give my s/o a hug thanks.” and hes like SO serious. it is actually is kinda uncomfy for his neck tho so after a while he gives in and lets you hug him LOL, but he;s not happy about it >___> (he is!)

✩‧₊˚jeonghan: this man lies for fun………..he messes with people like it’s his JOB…………so when his tall s/o flusters him he tries his BEST to just try to do it back. HOWEVER unbeknownst to you, jeonghan his having a fucking existential crisis over this in his mind. every time you tease him, it sends him into a spiral, questioning his entire god damn life. jeonghan literally lays down in bed one day after hanging out with you and he’s like “this feeling…………what is it……………………my face……..why is it WARM……………” he will literally google (in incognito mode. can’t have the bros seeing this after all) “what does it mean when you feel shy-embarrassed-butterflies in your stomach” because he this feeling is FOREIGN to him!!!!! once he realizes that this is what it means to be flustered he’s just like “oh my god. who have i BECOME!!!!!!!!!!!” and then his eyes widen. “am i the babygirl??????”

✩‧₊˚joshua: i feel like if it’s applicable to the situation, joshua is going to do everything in his power to try to repeat the gesture back to you to fluster you back. i swear to god joshua makes your relationship the Flustering Olympics. he will try to outdo you at any turn. one time you ruffled his hair and he was like You know what. and then he reached up to ruffle YOUR hair!!!! you kiss his cheek, he’ll reach back up to give you one too. he refuses to be the only one who’s constantly feeling shy and mushy - it’s gross and not fair. 

 ✩‧₊˚jun: he is STRUGGLING…..like. i feel like he’s oblivious to your teasing at first, like why are they always reaching to get stuff for me….what’s up with all the headpats??? do they think I’M ACTUALLY A CAT?????? i feel like jun would just straight up ask you that unprompted. like “y/n we need to talk, why do you keep petting me and pinching my cheeks, do you think im a real cat we need to get you checked out grandma.” and youre literally like WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT LIKE ACTUALLY, I JUST THINK YOU[RE CUTE AND SMALL………..anyway he gets real embarrassed after you say that and just accepts the babygirl title that has been thrust upon him

✩‧₊˚hoshi: he is the babygirl of seventeen so he is absolutely RELISHING in this. he will let you do whatever you want with him and he even plays into it too like tbh i think hoshi likes being taken care of even though hes part of hyung line and the performance leader :3 bro is giggling every time you lean down to pinch his cheeks or use his head as an arm rest lmao. this is his world and you’re just in it !!! always asks you to take pics of him when you;re out doing things together, and always gives you picture credit in his captions lol. is the type to drunk text you asking you to pick him up and drive him home from drinking with the boys, and is super clingy to you as you both say your goodbyes to everyone. yeah if you treat him as such, this guy will become a domestic baby girl for you LMFAO

✩‧₊˚wonwoo: quietly flustered at all times. this guy unironically does NOT know how to fcking react when you tease him like this….he’s seriously the type to be like “y/n stop this is seriously bad for my heart wtf” like one time you leaned down and kissed his cheek and he just froze. he was convinced that for a min he was Actually Not Breathing. he’s the type who’s always like ahhh why are they so cute… whenever you tease him…he’s literally so down bad for you!!! btw every time you ruffle his hair or make it known in some way that he’s smaller than you he will without fail crinkle his nose in embarrassment and shyness lol

✩‧₊˚woozi: angry cat vibes from this man. i have a feeling you two would have a tom/jerry type relationship where woozi WILL NOT tolerate you patting his head, bending down to his eye level, and ruffling his hair. he is a grown man. he might need your help to reach some groceries, but YOU’RE NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT IT and HE WOULD HAVE GOTTEN IT OFF THE SHELF IF HE COULD. i feel like woozi may be one of the only members who would have to ask you to tone it down maybe and not tease him as much LOL. of course he appreciates you and likes affection, but i just think woozi would be like -___- i can take care of myself y/n -__- i can also take care of U y/n -___- let me take care of us -____-

✩‧₊˚minghao: a warmhearted man who just genuinely appreciates the gestures you display for him. sometimes will ask you to reach things for him first just because he knows you’ll do it and it just makes him feel cared for. doesn’t really get flustered per se, but i think he his heart would melt every time you show him any kind of affection :) i think he’s the type to appreciate his partner taking the initiative an equal amount in the relationship, so i think he’d be pretty happy w you doting on him a bit lol. he doesn;t realize your intention is to fluster him at all and you end up never telling him because the look of love he has when you pinch his cheeks is worth anything

✩‧₊˚dk: he’s literally svt #1 dude kisser like HE’S usually the one causing people to blush,,,,,......if someone behaved that way toward him, i think he would die because i don;t think dk 100% understands how easily he catches people off guard with his physical affection!!! so like when it happens to him he’s just like OH MY GOD IS THIS HOW WOOZI FELT WHEN I KISSED HIM………….i feel like if you bent down to kiss his cheek suddenly he would become quiet af and suddenly can’t look you in the eyes LMAO like YOU KILLED HIM!! HE’S DEAD!!! btw he reacts this way every single time 

✩‧₊˚mingyu: mingyu is puzzled. he wasn’t aware that these emotions were ones he would ever experience. he recalls seungkwan scolding him in the past for purposely doing things to fluster girls (i.e. flexing his muscles to people at the gym, flashing his smiles at baristas when theyre getting coffee, etc), and he never understood why seungkwan always told him to stop behaving like that until he started dating you. being constantly doted on like his was literally killing him…he;s never been on the receiving end of playful teasing like this before, and he;s literally so shy that he doesn’t know what to do with himself!!

✩‧₊˚seungkwan: he is crisis….he wakes up everyday looking in the mirror and is like “you will NOT get flustered today. you WILL be normal, and unphased, even if they kiss your forehead.” and everyday he fails himself. every time you hand him a mug from the top shelf, every time you slink an arm around him, every back hug you give him, he can’t help how warm his face gets - it’s actually kind of annoying how much of an affect you have him. one time he was thinking about the sudden cheek kiss you gave him before work while pouring himself a glass of water and it literally began to overflow. seungkwan remembers that day as a particular sickening reaction to your tomfoolery….

✩‧₊˚vernon: lmao i feel like the first time you like give vernon a headpat in his mind he’s just like “oh shit why am i getting nervous, i didn;t know i was into this lmao” dfjsdklfjsd. like every time you fluster him hes just pleasantly surprised and goes along with it because he kinda likes being the one taken care of. i’d say that he gets flustered most of the time you try to get a reaction out of him, but sometimes when his tolerance is particularly high, he’s able to flirt back to fluster you too. i think the longer you two have been together, the easier it is to throw back that behavior at you LOL. i feel like you both are always teasing each other and laughing all the time ~___~

✩‧₊˚dino: a BABY GIRL WHO WON’T ADMIT IT!!! bro talks a big talk to his friends about how he isn’t a kid anymore and how he’s a grown man now and yayayayayyayaya. but the moment you headpat him, he’s reduced to a blushy mess. i think if you reached down to boop his nose, he would literally Die on Impact. like. he really thinks he’s normal and the more dominant one in the relationship but lean down to make eye contact with him or rest your head on top of his and he will fucking pass away. after the initial resistance, i think hes someone else who would relish in being babygirl, but only in private!!!! there are things his hyungs do NOT need to know…………………..

[taldigi]

Love the Shadow art with Yui! Does that mean Yui has to face her Shadow and admit that she actually likes being a girl this time around, arguably more than she ever liked being a boy? Are the others there when she does and, if so, how do they take it?

Yu has always come off as a character who is fully confidant in himself and comfortable with his eccentricities. Its a trait that's reflected well by being the only one who didn't have a shadow to confront in order to unlock his persona.

So- I love NG+ stories. And what inspired me explicitly is how, when playing the game with the FemC mod on.. sometimes, things feel different. Things that are loaded when postured at a female character. Relationships that change heavily because socialization rules shift.

Yu does a lot of things, Yu is praised for a lot of things. Cooking, caring for his sister, being empathetic, loving cats... Yui isn't exemplary for these concepts, not like Yu was. Yui's reaction to this FASCINATES me!

The girls are going to pull her in their direction more. They're going to trust her more then they ever trusted Yu. Yui's going to be praised for bringing "a feminine touch" to the Dojima household- cooking and tending to Nanako are assumed defaults, not exceptions. Dojima not letting her leave at night because it's dangerous for young girls to be out late like that- Yosuke and Kanji are going to keep Yui at an arms length. Even Teddie would change his tune and include Yui in on his bullshit unless it was shot down faster and harder than anyone ever did- and at that point, how much more would change now that Yui is a recipient? She can't join the sports clubs- so is she even able to do her strength arcana link? Ai's relationship shifts from fake boyfriend to something else. Even Yukiko is going to be way more open out the gate and less apprehensive to talk to Yui- and how does that affect the Yuki-Chie dynamic?

Yosuke puts an arm around Yu? Friendly? But touching a girl like that and not being in a relationship.. with his reputation and behavior? the implications are wild. and I have so much fucking brainrot about that NG+ Femc/Yosuke relationship that it could be an essay in it's own right.

All of this is intrinsically fascinating and complex in a way that a normal NG+ or a FemC rewritten story isn't.

Anyway, swinging back:

I think Yu can swing into being Yui well. I think they even enjoy being being Yui more than being Yu... I'm sure it's very freeing for her specifically. But what Yui struggles with most is that Yui isn't Yu. Yui has a whole year of memories, of character development and growth- and now is allowed to be someone she couldn't ever be- and that is what spawns her shadow I think. More than the gender stuff, it's the lying, the hiding of the truth, and the difficuilty of making the call of how far she can rock the train before it derails and she can't save Nanako. How many things can she change or avert? What if saving Saki gets Yosuke killed instead?

Yui loves her friends so much, but how much of Yui is faked in order to make sure this story doesn't derail. How does it all unfold when her shadow lets Yosuke know that Yui knew Saki was going to die..? and how she coudn't say something because what if something worse happens because of it? How much she has to hold back because Kanji's social link suddenly requires much more expression and empathy then it did back then?

I mean, I think Yu/i sometimes lowballs how much the IT loves their leader in return. The truth hurts, but all of their truths hurt. No matter what, they're going to care about her and help her in whatever decision because the conclusion they're going to come to is: "She took time to help us, not once, but twice over. We know her well enough that she's going to do it again. Being anything less than supportive isn't even an option."

After all, the IT will canonically kill someone on Yu's behalf. Being complicit for murder is true friendship.

anyway, thats my thoughts on it.

[blairespandora]

hiiii can i request smth whumpy??? daryl saying “don’t you touch her” not being able to do anything abt reader being held at knife point. maybe she gets a stab or cut on her side.

A/N: Hii angel <33 tysm for your request!! lmk how you like this! 💕

Daryl and Y/n were walking towards Alexandria when suddenly a group of 4 men ambush them, holding Daryl down and grabbing Y/N at knife point;

He was instantly filled with anger and panic with how fast this had gone downhill. His body strained against the people who held him down and he struggled against them trying to reach you.

“Get yer’ damn hands off ‘er! Touch ‘er and I will rip ya’ to pieces, dumbass!”

One of the men that managed to hold you hostage put a knife right under your chin and glared over at Daryl with a sinister smile upon his face.

“Now now…you don’t get to give orders here. If you want this pretty thing to stay alive, you’ll get on your knees… and be a compliant little bitch”.

Daryl stared at the man with murderous rage in his eyes, his breathing became heavy, but he slowly dropped down to his knees. You could see that the man was very satisfied with his current power over the situation, and he was enjoying it.

You were trying to silently communicate with Daryl but the pressure of the cold blade against your chin was making it hard to focus and stay calm.

One of the men who was holding him down leaned down with a mocking tone in his voice and whispered to Daryl,

“Your little lady is a pretty one. Think we should keep her with us.”

Daryl’s face darkened greatly when he said that and let out a snarl. He was starting to get fed up with how smug these guys were. “Fuck YOU” he said through gritted teeth, keeping eye contact with you at all times.

The man holding the knife against your chin chuckled as he slowly began to slide it up your face and press the tip against your cheek. A soft red mark started to form as the tip broke the skin and you let out a small gasp

“If you keep talking like that, I might just have to carve her face up a bit…hmm?”

Daryl clenched his hands tightly into fists and bit his cheek to hold himself back from lashing out against the man. His teeth grinded against each other while he just glared up at the men holding him down,

“If you lay a hand on her I will kill you I swear…”

The men all laughed at that threat and the one holding the knife against you leaned down closer to your ear and spoke in a sinister tone

“I’m gonna like keeping you with me…”

His hand slowly wrapped around your neck and softly squeezed.

Daryl’s rage began to reach its boiling point at the sight of his hand around your neck. He began to struggle against the men and was slowly gaining momentum. His strength overpowered the men holding him down and his hands reached up and grabbed one of their throats.

In the struggle the man who had the knife against your neck ended up dropping it and letting go of you to help the men holding Daryl down. They all managed to finally overpower Daryl again and forced his head down into the dirt. The man holding the knife got back up and glared down at Daryl, his anger showing,

“That was a big mistake redneck…”

The click of the safety going off on the gun could be barely heard as you were quickly able to grab a gun from the guys holding Daryl down and with no hesitation, shot all 4 of them in the head before they could even realise what was going on.

When you stood up and fired the gun Daryl just stared at you in shock as the men’s bodies dropped dead to the ground. His breathing slowed down and he could finally breathe normally again. Before you could completely process what you just did, he leaped up and wrapped you in a tight embrace, his face leaning against the top of your head.

you let out a loud cry, the adrenaline seemed to wear off slightly and realised what you've done "Daryl..." you continued to cry into his shoulder,

He held you tightly against him in a protective embrace, letting you cry on him. He whispered soft reassuring words into your ear as his hand ran softly through your hair.

“T’s okay, you’re okay…they’re all gone now…just you and me…”

When your crying began to die down Daryl gently pulled you back just enough so that he could see your face. His hands gently cupped your face and wiped away the tears from your cheeks, trying his best to soothe you.

“Shh…it’s alright darlin’…just breathe…”

You could feel his hands tense up a bit when he finally noticed the deep gash across your cheek, and you flinched slightly when he gently brushed his thumb against it. The anger was beginning to bubble up again in his chest as he gently wiped away the blood dripping down.

He took a deep breath trying to will himself to stay calm. He gently pushed your hair behind your ears and began gently kissing along the cut to soothe it while whispering quietly to you

“It’s gonna be alright…we’re gonna go back to alexandria and clean this wound up…”

[thethiefandtheairbender]

Had a good chat with my partner about it today that maybe let me put a finger on what's always bugged me about "we're here to fix canon" attitudes being so prevalent in fandom (especially in the past 10ish years) throughout my life. This is not to say there's never a time or place for that (I've written fix its myself, or the occasional meta on how something could be fixed/improved) or that people are wrong to (we're anti fandom policing). It's also not an issue to me on the basis of "I love my blorbo in canon and fandom mischaracterizes them in the name of 'fixing' them" etc as it is just... coming from a fundamentally different perspective for story analysis / interaction than most (not all) people in fandom, I think.

One of the reasons I enjoyed getting my English degree was because I was finally being encouraged to and taught in alignment with what my brain had always be inclined to do: you always assume that there's a reason, and a good reason, for the story to do whatever it's doing. It assumes that the story is already exactly what it is supposed to be as it is supposed to be, and it's up to you to find the reasons Why.

The story was boring, or made you feel uncomfortable/bad, or you couldn't root for a character or relationship? All of that, at least at the beginning, doesn't really Matter. You assume that the story is paced fine, you assume the discomfort was intentional or part of something broader (historical shit that hasn't aged well) or that the dichotomy of "I feel invested or not invested" isn't useful. And in doing so, you replace all that with asking why.

An example I'll use is 1984 by George Orwell. I read that book in high school and I fucking hated it. Normally, I like the protagonist the most in anything I watch/read, but in that book, I loathed both the two leads and were actively rooting for them to be captured and tortured so the book could end faster; it was an actively miserable affair. I don't think that was necessarily the author's intention (certain amount of death of the author is baked in, but for a lot of the texts I was reading, we didn't even know the author or anything substantial about them, i.e. Beowulf) but, more importantly, I don't think any of those things are Flaws or downsides in the text.

Part of this is because 1984 is a dystopian novel (if a romcom book breaks genre convention that badly where you're miserable reading it, yeah, maybe something went wrong, but more on that in a minute) but even then it doesn't really matter on the basis of genre; I'm sure some people read 1984 and felt fascinated/excited while reading.

Rather, the focus becomes: what do I find so unlikeable about the protagonists? Why would they be written that way (on purpose)? What does it say about the society they live in? What does it say about their characterization, social stratification, etc etc? If a character does something that I think is non-sensical, why? Have I missed something? Should I watch retrospectively for clues? Is there another way to engage and to understand? Is what I label as confusion potentially a, or the, Point?

It is only after finding the reasons, and/or finding them unsuitable, that I let my subjective feelings into play. While a story can have great merit on the basis of relatability, relatability or "this aligns with my worldview / expectations / desires / etc." is not the be-all end-all of discerning quality

For example, I'm never going to be a fan of Jane and Rochester (she's 18, he's her 40 year old employer who routinely lies to her) but there are reasons, Good reasons, they get together in Jane Eyre (a book so subjectively boring I struggled through it twice) in response to both when the book was written and with the book's themes / symbols / their characterization. If they didn't end up together, it would be a fundamentally different story; it would not be Jane Eyre. So objectively, it's fine and an understandably massive influence on the western literary canon; subjectively, it's so fucking bad and I'm so glad I never have to read it again. But if I stopped there with my lack of interest or dislike of the main romance, I'd be missing out on what the text has to offer as well, the text.

This applies to more modern day stuff as well. I don't like Double Trouble from SheRa as nonbinary representation, and I'm nonbinary myself; however, I can acknowledge that the things I don't like about them were probably simultaneously empowering and exactly what the author (who is also nonbinary) wanted to be per his own experience of gender. Having a "I assume the text is right" mindset means that I can hold space for my own feelings/analysis (i.e. I also did not like Catra's arc, as I think she needed to learn other things / be written under a different lens) while holding space for the text as is (under the canonical lens of Catra learning it's never too late to be saved, I think her arc is conclusive and well done). And these two viewpoints aren't fundamentally opposed, but can coexist as analytical soup, being equally true / having equal value under the subjective (my view) and more 'objective' (the canon text's construction, or what I / the scholarly consensus, if it exists, believes it to be, anyway) at the same time.

Again, none of this is to say that you can't take issue with a canon text, or want to change something. I remember one time I was watching a show where their refusal to explore a romantic relationship between the female lead and her guy best friend was actively making the show worse; I understood their reasonings of wanting to put them with other people to explore their relationships, and wanting to emphasize a male-female friendship at the core of the story, and I still wanted them to put the two together as a Ship instead for various reasons. But that doesn't mean my line of thinking would've been Objectively Better—assuming if they had been paired together would've been executed in the manner I'd enjoy, or that them being paired with other people couldn't have been executed in ways I would've enjoyed more—merely that I likely would've enjoyed the series more per my own subjective preferences.

What I see in fandom sometimes is that people, understandably, aren't approaching at the start from a "the story always has a good reason" as much as they are speed-running from a "this didn't make sense to me or felt bad/off" and maybe examining why (which is supremely useful!) but not going back to examine the other side of the coin as to why the story would do it anyway.

Because sometimes the story—or a part of a story—is still 'bad' to us. It's just worthwhile to look at why it's 'good,' too.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

hi! sorry if you've answered this already, i tried to search your blog and didn't find much, but we all know the tumblr search function is...uh...but i'd be deeply curious to hear your thoughts about Stephenie Meyer's "The Host," specifically re: treatment of the issue of souls' colonization and possession of other species...and obviously, since i'm asking you, an animorphs blog, this, my curiosity is definitely coming from a place of comparison to animorphs, but that doesn't have to be your focus!

from the posts tumblr's search algorithm did grant me, i gather you see it as wanda unlearning the colonizer's propaganda stance she takes at the start of the story, which i agree with!

but i guess every time i read it, i really can't help but feel...unsatisfied? with the way it actually engages with the horrors and colonization of it all?

sort of like, okay, The Host is this one very individual YA romance story in a sci-fi setting, which is obviously different from a heavily-Star-Trek-inspired middle-grade series about guerrilla warfare and is going to grapple with these issues differently...but still! i don't leave feeling satisfied with how it engages with consent of "host" bodies the souls are in, and i don't feel satisfied with how it engages with the souls' systemic behavior!!! but i can't really put my finger on why, and i just...was curious, i guess, whether this was something you had thoughts about.

(full disclosure: i'm asking you specifically because one of my HUGE points of existential dread on my first adulthood reread of The Host was how Jodi never wakes up, and her boyfriend just starts implied-dating the soul who's in her body? or how kids who are infested from birth are just...gone, and they were like "well sweet we can just put Wanda in there, this is a perfect solution!" and that I think hit me so hard in comparison with having read Eleutherophobia--which is, by the way, a masterwork of fanfiction that wrecked me, overwrote canon a little bit in my brain, and I think fundamentally changed how I see the possibilities of writing and narration, so, you know. thank you for that!)

(also like, i know there's different worldbuilding where it's implied most hosts just...go away...but do they actually? because Mel and the Seeker's host are still there, which kind of implies to me that it's more of a problem than the souls want to admit?! and even outside humans, all the memories, and compulsions toward certain behaviors are still there! what makes a person in this universe of Meyer's?! it's kind of fundamentally horrifying?!)

apologies for this extremely long ask, haha, and i hope you're doing well, love your blog, your writing, and all your thoughts!

Oh my god, ALL OF THIS. I thoroughly enjoy the first 98% of The Host. It's a romance novel about consent! Where the characters have to struggle to resolve the plot in a way that gets the permission of everyone in the love quadrangle to boink everyone else, and spends over 500 pages doing exactly that! It's anti-imperialist as fuck! It's got an amazing supporting cast, like every Stephenie Meyer novel! The imagery is unparalleled in its richness and coolness, because Stephenie Meyer! I've written fan fiction about it! I have an extremely normal relationship with Kyle O'Shea!

And then Sunny. And then Wanda's unnamed second human host.

I think that Meyer, either because of romance genre conventions or pressure from publishers, felt she had to write a happy ending. But the book does such a good job of setting up an unresolvable moral dilemma — either Wanda gets to be with Ian, or she does the right thing by giving Melanie's body back — that there is no path to a happy ending. If Ian did as Wanda asked and sent her in a jar to some other planet, romance fans would feel cheated. If Doc did as Melanie asked and let Wanda stay in her body, then the book's anticolonial message would be for nothing.

But resolving it through PARASITING A KID IN A VEGETATIVE STATE? What if Doc makes Wanda a nice robot body? What if Wanda stays in a jar, but Ian finds a way to join her in the jar? What if she and Melanie set up a time share? Uuuuuugggggghhhhh. The Host was THIS CLOSE to being the best anticolonial novel ever written, and then falls on its face inches from the finish line.

Which, aside, is the reason I don't think Animorphs would ever work with a happy ending. "Happy" for the protagonists would never be morally okay in the bigger story.

[wrathofrats]

Some gay freak DMd me “I love the idea of mist hating rains attitude and how fucking high n mighty he seems to feel so she wrecks him and maybe she has Dew watch for a touch of humiliation bc dews obv so obsessed w Rain, it'll be good for droplet to see how pathetic he rlly is or smthn” and then I blacked out and wrote multiple paragraphs in his DMs so enjoy

(Love youuuuu @divine-misfortune)

Warnings for: dubcon, humiliation, probably technically exhibitionism, tentacles, trans rain, mean mist, yeah

Rain hasn’t looked at her all day.

Between trying to teach him how to play all the way through square hammer and trying to even begin touching the newer songs he’s expected to play, rain has barely even spoken or looked her in the eyes.

When mist corrects his technique he ignores her, playing through anyways like he hasn't done anything wrong. His attitude can be rough at times, as any water ghouls is, but today? Mist doesn’t think she can handle it. She can deal with snarky comments and eye rolls, but rain acting like he knows better than her makes her blood boil.

“Is this seriously how you’re going to act today?” Mist scoffs when rain looks up just to look back down again. “Are you really not going to listen to me?”

“I already know the song. Maybe if you stopped talking you’d be able to hear it too” rain mumbles.

Mist almost sees red. She hastily grabs the bass from his hands, trying not to let her rage damage the instrument. Once she knows it’s safe back in its stand she grabs rain by the shirt collar and drags him to the common room, ignoring the curses and protests rain yells out while clawing at her hand.

Dew sits in one of the chairs, legs lazily thrown over the arm with his phone in his hand. He honestly looks like he’s about to fall asleep before he hears the sound of rain threatening mist coming from around the corner.

“Get your fucking hands off of me mist!” Rain almost screams as she practically throws him to the ground in front of dew. It’s a pointed decisions, she’s seen the way dew looks at him, can read him like a book after all the time they’ve had to spend together. If rain wants to act like a brat for her, then he should have no problem showing that side of him to dew as well.

“Stay down if you know what’s good for you” mist hisses when rain scrambles. Dew can only stare wide eyed at the situation in front of him. He swings his legs to sit normally, confused on if he should stay where he is or leave to save rains dignity. The look mist throws at him keeps him glued in the chair.

“Our perfect water lily seems to think he’s figured everything out” mist smiles at dew, slotting herself behind rain. “Just thought that there’s one more thing he might want to know about”

One arm holds him to her chest as he struggles, the other yanks his pants to his ankles. Rain attempts to cover himself, pull his legs up and place his hands over his exposed cunt, but shame fills his face even if dew can’t actually see anything like this.

Dew just sits and watches, doesn’t dare to move. He’s half embarrassed for the poor ghoul in front of him because he knows damn well what mist is about to do,

But the other half is almost too excited to see it.

Mist whispers something unintelligible into rains ear that subdues him enough to let her force his legs open. His pussy is on full display for dew to gawk at. He’s already starting to get slick and shiny, pretty. Rain can bare to look at him, instead shoving his face into mists neck as she coos.

Mist slides her fingers up and down his folds, gathering the slick that’s already about to drip onto the carpet, and spreads him wide so dew can see how he clenches around nothing when she ghosts her fingers over his clit.

It’s obscene. Dew feels like he’s the sick one for staring so hard but god it’s impossible not to watch. Rains thighs twitch as if he desperately wants to close them and hide himself but he knows better, breathing heavy while mist just smiles at how docile she’s made him.

She rubs at his clit, purposeful motions that have him bucking up into her hand in search of more friction. The debauched wet sounds get louder as she works, dew wouldn’t be surprised if the floor below him was soaked already.

Mist is shocked it doesn’t take much, even more so that rain doesn’t know about this part of himself yet since he seems to be so easy. She rubs faster when she begins to feel it, rain lifting his head in slight panic.

Dew knows what she’s doing, knows the terrifying feeling.

A thick tentacle slowly reveals itself from rains cunt, bluish in hue, dripping in rains own arousal.

“Oh there we are waterlily” mist smiles as rain again tries to wiggle himself away to close his legs in shame from whatever is currently happening to him.

Mist keeps him open and on display, strokes the tentacle and guides it to stretch him open. Not super long but absolutely thick enough to have rain gasping and jutting his hips away,

It’s wet, making a mess of the poor ghoul for dew to watch, just seeing his little crush get ruined by his own tentacle in front of him.

[trexdrabbles]

I would absolutely die for a little Gambit drabble with #5 from that prompt list!

I have been absolutely dying to do one of these so thank you! (Fem reader since nothing was specified!)

NSFT under the cut!

#5 - "Let me take care of you, yeah? I'll do the work."

It had been a long day. Long day, long week, long month. Work had been getting just uncomfortably busy as of late, and you just had to keep reminding yourself that every evening spent away from home and every weekend tacked on too was only adding to your bank account and the reserve of compensatory time off you had been saving up. A few more weeks of this and you'd finally be done with the worst of it all and swore you were going to take a whole month off, and sleep straight through the first week of it. Even with the finish line in sight though, you needed a break, and badly at that.

And you weren't the only one who seemed to think so.

Remy had been a little busier on his end of things too, but not enough so as to not notice how you practically dragged yourself through the door each day, or sounded absolutely dead when you were on call with him. Today had seemed particularly rough, coming home late on a Saturday evening, short pumps in your hand that you had taken off before even driving home and had just carried up the driveway with you. But with all that misery was the littlest glimmer of hope in the fact that you had the next day off. A lovely little blip in your hellish schedule and god did you intent to make the most of it.

Cuddling with your boyfriend had definitely been prominent on your mind as a good place to start and had honestly kept you going through the final half of your work day. Opening the door to confirm that he was actually, in fact, there had been quite the blessing too. Realistically you knew he wouldn't take off without at least a text shot your way at the bare minimum, but seeing him there with your own two eyes just cemented the knowledge that you were going to finally have a damn good day off.

"Lookin' good, but ain't lookin' too hot," he commented, glancing up from whatever he had been doing on his phone, looking you over with something close to sympathy that only grew closer when you answered him with an exceptionally eloquent groan that perfectly conveyed 'I almost wish I had just been hit by a car on the way home so I wouldn't have to deal with this anymore'.

"I feel like death," you announced, dropping your poor shoes unceremoniously right beside the door and then kicking them a little further away from the entry for good measure.

"Already got dinner goin'. Be done soon."

That was enough to lift a little extra weight off of your shoulders as well and you sighed for it.

"That's why I love you," you murmured, drawing close to press a small smattering of kisses to his lips and cheek before figuring you'd go and change before sitting down to eat.

"Love me for plenty a' reasons," Remy retorted between kisses, smile permanently affixed to his lips throughout.

"Mmm, no, just that one," you teased, laughing slightly when he caught you around the waist to keep you from wandering too far off.

"Just gotta remind you a' the rest, don't I?" You knew exactly where he was going with that and admittedly it sounded pretty damn good, but you were already struggling with wanting to stay awake as it was.

You leaned in to give him one more kiss before moving to step back again. "You can remind me tomorrow."

Your efforts to go and change clothes were once again thwarted by his grip tightening a touch more and when you glanced back at him, his smile had lost its teasing edge.

"C'mon chère; let Remy take care a' you, yeah? Been runnin' yourself down, let me do the work tonight."

Fuck, if that didn't get you.

Somehow dinner was enjoyed at a relatively normal pace before he was dragging you off to your room, dishes to be ignored until tomorrow. Remy kept up with his words too, hardly letting you lift a finger as he grabbed a change of sleep clothes for you and helped you out of your work clothes. You had thought just immediately crashing with your entire body tangled around him would be a perfect end for the night, and that was entirely off from what was happening now. Though admittedly, being stretched out on your bed, thighs locked around his head and fingers curled into his hair as his tongue pressed expertly into you, lapping up everything you had to give and then some was an even better option.

[nekropsii]

your staunch defense of transfeminine people in a community where we're so routinely mocked and sidelined does not go unnoticed or unappreciated.

you're doing a fantastic thing

Hey, I'm glad it's doing something!! It was... Kind of radicalizing realizing that no one's fucking normal, actually, they just say they are. But the really, really radicalizing thing - the thing that got me to start being very loud and aggressive about it all - was getting hit with wave after wave of misdirected Transmisogyny for two reasons...

I acknowledged Transfem reads of characters exist, and stated that I actually - gasp! - enjoy some of them, even over the popular Transmasc readings of the same characters. Getting hit with backlash for this was expected, but I didn't foresee how that would manifest. Several people - all self-reporting as trans men, weirdly - flooded my notes and inbox talking down to me, treating me like I'm stupid, and that I don't understand Transmasc struggles (I do, I just distinctly was not talking about them), and... Most vexingly, treating me like I'm a woman, and acknowledging me as such. By saying I, for example, preferred a Transfeminine reading of Dave over the popular Transmasculine one - by simply bringing up trans women in a conversation that didn't include putting them down - I had apparently branded myself as a stupid bimbo woman in their eyes that desperately needed mansplaining to. By discussing trans women positively, I had branded myself as an "other", and needed to be treated as such. I don't understand why it was all trans men doing this - you'd think they'd know better than to start misgendering and condescending people just because they started talking about feminism or trans rights. You'd think they'd understand meeting feminism with traumadumping is inappropriate.

I put a Cis Woman in my Webcomic, and she apparently wasn't feminine enough for some fucking people. Mind you, none of us on the Dev Team ever really thought that she was any degree of Masculine. She was never designed to be masculine, and she wasn't designed with transness in mind. We'd always referred to her internally as a cis woman. She just happens to have broad shoulders, narrow-ish hips, an Adam's apple, a bigger nose, and some serpentine heat pits on her face that happen to look like facial hair.

This is her. The uncanny, ugly, mannish freak who should've just been a boy. She looks normal! She's just a regular woman! Apparently, when you tell people that what human beings would identify as sex characteristics are totally randomized on an alien bug species because that alien bug species literally only has one sex, that's cool and based until it's applied to women? Even then, these are all traits that some normal human cis women have in real life. What's even more jarring is that almost all of the Transmisogyny thrown at me over Tejuri's appearance was done over fucking Cohost - the website people fled to specifically to escape Tumblr's Transmisogyny. The site that touts its pride in getting rid of all Transphobes. God.

I've noticed that people often preach their alliance not as a genuine statement but as a way to keep with the trends. A lot of reblogs on posts about loving trans women are viewing them as either a body ("loving trans women" taken as synonymous with wanting to have sex with them), an object ("loving trans women" taken as their value being synonymous with their romancability), or a token (saying that you "love trans women" is the latest political trend in progressive spheres, and professing this makes you look like a better person, even if you don't mean it). I've learned recently that a lot of people don't know anything about Queer Theory or Transfeminism. A lot of people apparently don't even realize Transfeminism exists. It's been a fucking wild past few months. Things I thought were just basic human decency and common sense apparently need to be stated, because it turns out my standards for what counts as "basic human decency" is a lot higher than most. Wild. @_@

Every time someone pulls this stupid horseshit on me, I get more annoying and more powerful. Nothing's gonna make me back down. At the end of the day, I have the privilege of being able to shut up and stop facing harassment. That's not a privilege trans women have. It's why true allies cannot stop fighting even when it does get a little hard. We can put the weapons down. They cannot.

Every now and then I think about the phrase "Trans Women are the Women of Women". Every day, it becomes more true.