#like fuck off and get some human empathy before you come back

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Hot take apparently: if you think its funny to trigger veteran's PTSD with fireworks because of them having been in the military, your an actual piece of shit.

[alexiroflife]

"tears"

fluff for the sukuna fans bc i've been in a soft sukuna mood

ryomen sukuna x reader

Synopsis: sukuna isn't a stranger to arguments with you, but when he catches you crying after a particularly harsh one, he finds himself scrambling to fix it... in his own way

to sum it up: sukuna is an asshole but he loves you, so he tries his best

WC: 3,296

Warning(s): a lil angst

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you first started a relationship with the infamous king of curses, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less when his tendency to be an asshole hurt your feelings. 

You know Sukuna isn’t a sentimental person who cares much for things like verbal reassurance, or consideration for the way the things he says can impact you, or anyone for that matter, but damn! Sometimes, he’s just too much of a jerk for you to handle, and Sukuna himself has no idea why your fragile human emotions sway you to be so affected by him. He doesn’t even think he’s said anything wrong the times in which you grow angry with him.

Now, Sukuna can handle your anger. Anger is good. Anger means that there is something he can react to, something he can tame or involve into your intimacies when he takes your mind off of silly arguments or subdues your attitude over what he deems to be small inconveniences. Anger is the only human emotion that he has felt himself in his many years of existence, so he knows what to expect. He understands it. He’s not, in the slightest, intimidated by it.

But what Sukuna finds he can not handle is the sound of your sniffles that resound from behind your door after you’ve just slammed it into his face. Sukuna angles his brows, pressing his ear to the door in confusion. Are you… cold? Coming down with a fever? What the hell are you sniffing your nose so much for?

Then he hears the meek gasps that intercept, the vocalization of pain that creeps into your weakened inhalations that accompany your damned sniffling. That’s when he realizes that you’re crying, and his pupils shrink slightly knowing that he has gone a little too far this time. 

Hell, how is he supposed to handle you crying? He can’t fuck your sadness away like he can with your irritation. He can’t mirror your sadness, since he has no clue what the hell it’s supposed to feel like. He can’t empathize with it either, for he has no idea what he could have done to bring tears to your eyes and empathy, well, it’s not in his vocabulary to begin with. It’s pathetic, he thinks, the way you have allowed him to bother you this much…

Yet it kills him to know that he’s the reason behind your tears.

He stands there for some time, unsure of what to do. Should he get Uraume to handle this? No, that may make things worse. You may want to be alone.

He turns to leave, but something stops him. He feels an ache in his chest, pressing his hand to his bicep. What the hell? What is this feeling?

He can still hear you crying, and somehow, it sounds like it’s getting worse, louder, or perhaps that is all in his head. He can no longer tell, but that sound you’re making is the only thing occupying his mind, and it’s ruining him. It’s making his chest tighten, his brow furrow, his lips press together tightly. He should leave, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to abandon you like this. 

Never once in his life has Sukuna felt remorse. Not even for all the times he has made you angry in the past when you two have had arguments. He is so quick to blame your reactions to things on your feeble human emotions. He is so quick to evade responsibility, or more so, refrain from guilting himself over the things he is responsible for. He is so quick to dismiss you, but it’s always fine because he has never witnessed you grow sad over his behavior, not until now.

Sukuna turns back to your door slowly. His hand flies to grab the handle to throw the door open, but he hesitates. He’s unsure of what’s happening to him, for he’s never hesitated before in his life. This, you crying, him second guessing himself, it’s all so new and he hates it. He needs to fix this immediately. 

What do you humans like when you are upset? There’s a word that’s slipping his mind, one he always hears you pester him for but turns down repeatedly. He had found the concept so irrelevant that he hadn’t even bothered to recall what it’s called.

He crosses his arms and stares ahead harshly in thought, then it comes to him. An apology! Yes, that’s what it is. But of course, you can’t expect him to verbalize such a thing. You must want something as a gift. A physical representation of his desire not to see you cry. He rushes off to locate Uraume for preparations.

About an hour later, you’re curled up on your bed and facing the wall with a blank stare. Your tears stopped a while ago, and since you hadn’t heard from Sukuna, you assumed he just didn’t care about your feelings. Like always.

“Oi,” a gruff voice through the door startles you. You jump and turn over, curling your brows in confusion at the sound of Sukuna’s voice. For a moment, you don’t believe he is speaking to you, so you wait some time to see if he will speak again. “I know you can hear me in there,” his voice sounds again, and you groan.

“Go away,” you tell him, flipping back over.

Sukuna, on the other side of the wall, clicks his tongue in agitation. “Quit your pouting and come open this door.”

“No. Until you learn how to treat me better, I don’t want to see you.”

Treat you better? Sukuna doesn’t understand this nonsense. You live in his large estate, you’re pampered by servants, showered with gifts and homemade meals, you sleep by his side every night, and he allows you to disrespect him far more often than he should. Not to mention, he has his arms full of presents at this very moment that are preventing him from opening the door himself. How can he possibly treat you any better than he’s already treating you?

He growls lowly and closes his eyes in irritation. “If you open the door, your mood will improve.”

“I don’t want anything other than what I just said.”

Sukuna’s eye twitches. Why are you so damn difficult? “What is your-”

“Go. Away.”

Oh. Alright, then. 

You sit up abruptly when Sukuna’s foot breaks in the door with a loud crash. You stare with wide eyes, the door, now off its hinge, creaking open weakly to reveal the king of curses with his arms full of several bouquets of flowers.

“What the fuck, Sukuna?!” you cry. He only stares frustratedly as he walks into the space univinted.

“This was going to go on for too long if I hadn’t done something,” he says, approaching the side of your bed.

“You can’t just- fuck! What is wrong with you?”

Okay… this is already going poorly. 

This is not the reaction he had desired from you, and perhaps he should have revisited the idea of kicking in the door, but he had been growing impatient. Despite his big talk, he doesn’t like when you speak to him in such a cold way. He doesn’t like being separated from you. He doesn’t like not being able to see your face, and after all the work he has just done to collect these plants for you, he can not tolerate being turned away. 

“Must you be so dramatic?” he tsks. “Do you not see what I have brought to you? Don’t you humans like these things?”

You stare at him incredulously, mouth agape. Sukuna can see the tear stains clear on your face, and his heart clenches again. God, why is that sight so abominable? 

He holds his arms out, presenting the flowers to you as if you could have possibly missed them. “They are yours. Take them and be done with this.”

“Be done with what, Sukuna?” you shake your head, face scrunched.

“With your tantrum- your tears, and the sniffles. Be done with them now. Here.”

You scoff. “Do you even know why you're giving these to me?”

Sukuna raises a brow. “To cease your tantrum. As I just said.”

“I can’t with you sometimes, Sukuna. Honestly.” 

“This is really the thanks that I get for bringing you these damn flowers? I thought you were supposed to like things like this. Why would you make me waste my time?”

“If you think it’s a fucking waste of time to bring me flowers, then there’s your problem right there,” you raise your voice, pointing at him accusingly. Sukuna’s face hardens. He thinks you’re getting angry again, but he can still see the sadness behind your eyes. You look almost… defeated. “And if you knew me at all, you’d know that I never cared about any of that stuff. I never cared about the flashiness or the gifts or whatever the fuck.”

Sukuna lowers his hands, letting the bouquets drop carelessly to the floor. “Now you are accusing me of not knowing you?” he seethes. “I’m not sure when you decided that it was acceptable for you to speak to me this way, but I will not tolerate it. I do nothing but dote on you, you ungrateful brat.”

“Yeah, sure, you dote on me, and then you turn around and berate me and call everything I feel stupid because you don’t care to even try to understand why some of the things you say are not okay!”

Sukuna walks closer to invade your personal space, leaning in to glare angrily at you as you do the same. This is what he knows. This is what he chooses to respond to. Not the curl in your brow, not the tremble of your lips, not the unsteadiness of your voice, but your anger. “Why should I care if all you do is whine,” he grumbles. 

You clamp your mouth shut as a lump forms in your throat. Sukuna watches you unravel before him, and while he tries to keep an unmoved expression, he is internally panicking when he sees your eyes gloss over again and your nose flare. 

Shit. He’s supposed to be making you feel better. How has he gone and made things worse again? Why is he incapable of understanding how to be what you want him to be?

You take in a trembling inhale as your hands clench and unclench at your sides. You don’t want him to see you cry. You don’t want him to call you weak, but you can’t help the tear that breaks past your lashes and dashes down your cheek, a physical display of your heartache. 

Sukuna’s crimson eyes fly to the tear, and his brows smooth out against his intent. 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You’re crying again, and it’s his fault. It’s always been his fault. What is this now that he’s feeling? Regret? Shame? Is that what is clawing at his chest and stripping him of his resolve? Making him wish to replay this entire interaction so that you do not appear before him with tears in your eyes once more? Is this what it is to fall? 

You rub angrily at your eyes and huff, turning away from him and plopping back down on your bed, back facing him. You shut yourself away, close yourself off, and deprive Sukuna of your pretty face for the second time today. “Just leave me alone. You’ve made it perfectly clear that you don’t give a fuck about me or anything, for that matter.”

Sukuna’s eyes widen slightly with the deepening of his frown. That ache he has felt in his chest spreads throughout his body, serving as tension in his back, head, and shoulders. You think he doesn’t care for you? What nonsense. You’re the only being on this planet who has made a millennia of existence worth living, and you think he doesn’t care?

Sukuna can not even pin the blame onto you this time around. He can not accuse you of overreacting, nor can he evade such a thing that is so clearly his doing. He has made you feel uncared for, and while his temper may get out of hand, and his inability to fully comprehend the plagues of the human mind gets in the way, and he never tells you that he loves you, making you feel unloved is the last thing he ever meant to do. 

“Hey,” he mumbles, but you do not move. You cling to yourself for comfort because you do not believe he can provide any for you. “Brat-” he starts, but rethinks. He reaches his hand out to you. “(Y/n). Enough of this.”

“I don’t want to see you right now, Sukuna. Can’t you respect at least that for once?” you croak. 

His hand freezes and he lets it fall. Respect. Understanding. That is what you want from him, and he has not been giving it to you. He has not been giving you anything that you request of him emotionally, for that matter. He has been neglecting your mental needs whilst overpowering you with the physical, and it’s drawn you away from him. 

He could force you to get up. He could drag you by your hair to his bedroom. He could make you look him in the eye, make you stay with him, make you stay silent about this from this point on and forever more. Sukuna has the power and the authority to do so…

But the idea is not appealing. Not in the slightest.

Sukuna wants you happy. He wants you to want to be with him willingly, and if he ignores your consent now of all times, it would be like throwing away the life he has built with you. Throwing away your desires, and Sukuna does not long for a world in which you are any more uncomfortable than you already are. 

He takes a step back, looking over the flowers that he has dropped, and accepts the will of the mortal he fell in love with. 

“I will be in my chambers if or whenever you wish to see me,” he says lowly, giving in. He moves to leave but stops himself once more. He never had stopped himself this much before. “...I apologize for making you cry. I will send someone to fix your door immediately.”

Sukuna is well on his way when he hears you shuffling behind him. He turns, admittedly hopeful for your reaction, and finds you peeking in confusion over your shoulder. “...What did you just say?” you whisper.

The king of curses stalls, looking directly into your eyes from across the room. He feels suddenly… weak. Vulnerable. For the first time, he has relented his power for you to take hold of, and it feels strange to say the very least. “Do you wish for me to repeat myself?”

You sit up slowly, turning around. You knuckle at your red nose, watching him suspiciously. “I do. I may have misheard you.”

He studies you for a moment until he realizes that you are being facetious. “You heard me the first time.”

“Maybe I just want you to say it again.”

Sukuna sighs heavily. “I did not intend to make you cry, nor did I intend to make you feel as though I do not care for you. That is a foolish thought, but I understand I do not convey the depth of my feelings for you the way you wish me to convey it.”

You look dumbfounded as you stare at him in silence. Sukuna clicks his tongue, unsure of how you are going to respond. 

“Quit staring at me and say something, woman.”

“I just… never thought…” you trail off, swallowing harshly. “I never thought you would ever say something like that to me.”

“You will only hear me say such things when you are- when I’ve made you unhappy,” he clarifies firmly. Your nose twitches, an involuntary movement that Sukuna catches and finds entirely too adorable. Your eyes are still damp, but your breathing has evened out. 

“That’s the first,” you quip.

“Enough.”

You press your lips together, glancing at the flowers Sukuna brought you. Just then, you notice that they are your favorite. 

You tell yourself you knew what you were getting into when you first started dating the king of curses, but at times you forget that Sukuna is in fact a demon, and a king at that. He does not believe in any better than what he is.

“You hurt my feelings, Sukuna,” you say softly. “Don’t you get what that means? At least for me?”

“No,” he responds honestly. “But I do see now that you have different needs. And I understand that I refuse to watch you cry if there is something I can do about it.”

You try to remain angry with him. You try to keep yourself distanced, but you can not help the way that you are softening, and Sukuna notices. A hint of a smirk curves at the corner of his lips. 

“Is that all I had to say to make this better?”

“Shut the hell up,” you hiss. “It wouldn’t have killed you to apologize for the hundreds of other times we’ve fought, you know.”

“You weren’t crying the other times, woman.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you roll your eyes. 

Sukuna tilts his head, placing a hand on his hip. “You’re not still upset, are you?”

“Yes,” you pout, and he catches on.

“What is it you want now, to be pampered like a spoiled brat?” 

He makes the suggestion as if to offend you, but the two of you both know that he is hardly making a joke. “What I want is for you to fuck off.”

A chuckle rumbles in Sukuna’s throat as he makes his way over to you. You immediately break and screech when he yanks you forward by your ankle and loops you up into his arms before sitting down on your bed and setting you in his lap. 

He looks you dead in the eye and lifts a rough thumb, swiping stubbornly at your tear stains and your damp lashes. “Crybaby,” he mutters, and you swat his hand away.

“Whatever, asshole.” You push at his chest with weak contempt and he looks at you boredly.

“You’re pitiful,” he grumbles, gripping your chin securely and guiding it to him. His blood red eyes seep into yours, gazing intently. “No more tears, do you understand?”

“Then don’t make me sad.”

“I won’t,” he tells you confidently.

A smile twitches on your lips as you look over him, completely unfamiliar with this side of the king of curses. “Can you do one more thing for me, and then I’ll maybe think about forgiving you?” you bite your lip, pressing your finger to his broad shoulder.

Sukuna grunts. “More demands, huh? I suppose you know how to take advantage of a situation. What more do you want?”

You wrap your arms over his neck. “Tell me how much you care about me,” you sing. 

“Did I not just do so?”

“No, I want you to spell it out. Tell me you love me.”

“I highly tolerate you.”

“Tell me you loveeee me.”

“You are the only human being I do not frown upon.”

“Sukuna.”

“Christ, woman, you’re mine. Isn’t that enough?” he grits his teeth and you snort, patting his cheek gently. 

“For now.”

“Such a pest, you know that?” he mumbles, pushing in swiftly to press his lips firmly to yours in a swift peck. “Don’t ever say I don’t care for you again. It is the most false and offensive thing I have ever heard."

[xxsabitoxx]

My Personal Upper Moon 🍆 Ranking

Warnings: if it isn’t obvious already, this post is taking about the Upper Moon’s and my personal HC on their dick sizes. If that makes you uncomfortable in any way, just keep scrolling

A/N: I was actually very surprised by the amount of comments on my Hashira version of this HC post. So I feel a little more comfortable with giving the Upper Moons a go, especially since someone asked if I would do it eheheh. That being said, these men are demons, therefore you may find my size rankings to be a bit unrealistic. But I’m not gonna go crazy and say Muzan has a dick that’s 2 miles long.

This post includes: Muzan, Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, Hantengu’s clones (Karaku, Urogi, Sekido and Aizetsu), Gyutaro and Kaigaku. And no Gyokko cause that man doesn’t have a dick, period.

In a category of his own: Muzan Kibutsuji

Muzan clearly deserves a category of his own for one particular reason: he’s able to alter his appearance.

Therefore, he’s able to change the size of his dick whenever the fuck he feels like it.

And don’t try and say that stupid cause he can literally change gender and age so changing his dick size isn’t out of the question

On average, Muzan prefers to have a larger dick, mostly because he’s a pussy ass bitch man that needs that kind of confidence down there, if you get what I mean.

Typically soft: 10.5

Typically hard: 11.7

But he can make it as big, small, curved, wide, as he wants

When he wants to torture your ass, he’ll make himself as girthy as he sees fit just to watch you cry and squirm and beg for something a little smaller.

Anytime you get “comfortable” he just increases his girth until you’re crying again. Your pleasure is never his first priority, it’s always his.

1. Kokushibo

Among the demons, it should be no shock that Upper Moon One has always been packing. This man is petrifying so it’s only right that his dick is equally as intimidating as him

Even as a human, this man’s dick was deadly. You can’t change my mind either.

Just in case you’re wondering, Yoriichi is bigger

That’s beside the point, Kokushibo has a lot to work with down there. Whether it’s hard or soft ngl

When soft: 9.5

When hard: 10.7

He’s long, girthy and curves slightly upwards. He’s heavy too, your jaw will certainly hurt by the time you’re done with him.

He’s the type to put a pillow or blanket of some sort under your lower back as he fucks you. Mostly because he’s not clueless to the fact that his dick is big

Kokushibo is the type to ease you into it though, he’s stern but he has a teeny bit of empathy when it comes to fucking you. Unless you’ve pissed him off ofc.

2. Akaza

I know this one is gonna be controversial, especially since I’m putting him above Douma but hear me out.

This man has audacity, which means he got a big dick. No demon is acting like Akaza and having a small dick to go with it. Nuh uh, no sir.

Akaza is sitting pretty knowing damn well his cock is bigger than Douma’s and it actually something Douma taunts him with… which you think the roles would be reversed but hey…

When soft: 8.5

When hard: 9.7

He’s straight, no real curve to him and he has a single blue line going up the underside of his shaft and one that wraps around just before the head of his dick. Like as in the lines that cover his body lol

Akaza is probably the “gentlest” of all the upper moons because of the respect he has for women

That’s not to say he isn’t rough with you, but he definitely cares about your pleasure and feelings more than Douma or Muzan would for example

He’s pretty confident in himself though, at least that’s how it seems to you. He knows what he’s doing to say the least

3. Douma

Alright listen, this man is still packing down there so don’t get mad at me for putting him at third.

His dick is smaller than Akaza’s but not by a ton. Let’s be honest Douma is probably the straightest and gayest demon to ever exist. The embodiment of bisexual LMAO

How does Douma know Akaza’s dick is bigger? The world may never know

When soft: 8

When hard: 9.2

It’s pale like the rest of him, a pretty noticeable curve to it as well. He has some prominent veins because of how pale he is. His tip is like a pinkish gray (idk why I felt the need to include this)

He’s pretty girthy too, so he definitely will make your walls stretch uncomfortably if he doesn’t offer you foreplay

Douma is rough, selfish and truly only cares about his own pleasure but he likes watching you whine and squirm while being impaled on his cock

Douma also has a thing for “belly bulges” so he will fuck you in some odd positions if he means he can see his dick from the outside… if ya know what I mean

4. Gyutaro

Listen, plz just listen cause I promise you I’m going somewhere with this. Cause I can already hear y’all being like ???Scrawny ass Gyutaro is in 4th??? Yes. He is.

Gyutaro got himself a bit of an upgrade when becoming a demon. He for sure does not look like he did a a human. By that I mean he’s taller than he was (even tho he’s hunched)

What I’m tryna get at is demon transformation made his dick bigger and Imma live in my little fantasy world

When soft: 6.5

When hard: 7.2

Gyutaro’s dick is as curved as his spine and as thick as his tiny ass waist. He’s got length but not crazy girth.

Even if he’s rough, it feels good. Like there isn’t a ton of discomfort if he goes in raw with no prep cause he wants to punish you, he’s like the perfect amount of stretch

He’s mean, verbally and physically but at the same time he’s a fucking sucker for your body so he can’t really say much without whining and groaning

He’s got some confidence in his cock but he’s also a bit envious of the other upper moons

5. The Hantengu Clones (Sekido, Karaku, Aizetsu, Urogi)

I’ve talked about my dick HCs for these four in my A-Z NSFW alphabet and I was tryna be realistic. However, when it comes to this post, fuck being realistic.

Sekido when soft 6.2 | when hard 7.1

Karaku when soft 6 | when hard 6.9

Urogi when soft 5.9 | when hard 6.7

Aizetsu when soft 5.7 | when hard 6.5

There is so much to say here but honestly my brain is malfunctioning so I can’t even delve into it

Regardless, the four of these demons fuck very differently and use their dicks very differently

Sekido and Urogi have no curve, Karaku has a slight curve and Aizetsu’s curves upwards

Hantengu himself had a 3 inch dick and you can’t tell me otherwise. Pussy ass bitch

6. Kaigaku

I hate this little bitch but I’m including him so I can rag on his fugly ass. Kaigaku simps I’m sorry but I can’t stand him

This douche has the smallest dick among the upper moons. This is full Kaigaku slander.

When soft: 5.2

When hard: 6

I’ll give him a decent dick tho cause boy does he have the fucking audacity

That’s all I’m gonna give y’all cause I ain’t wasting my time on him GOOD BYE I didn’t even tag is ass

[hg-aneh]

will you ever come back, or is this an indefinite hiatus/straight up dipping?

i don't know

all the i miss yous are making me want to come back but ik i would just be terrified and motionless as soon as i do

Vent-ish Rant downstairs

CW: Pedophilia, Antisemitism, Suicide, Ableism, Harassment, Bullying, all the important words except for murder basically

i want to fix things in private with the people who hurt me so things can be okay and I don't out them for being wieners

but i also want everyone to know who hurt me, yet I'm aware it's not the right choice to make. social media outrage barely leads to anything, specially where minors are concerned

hell,now that i think about it, considering the fact that they genuinely don't believe people older than them are allowed to have feelings, I don't even think talking would be the right move

it's scary, its fucking scary

fuck. the whole thing started with a person mocking the way i spoke about crowley telling me to stop babying him because i was a legal adult and shouldn't be speaking like that

i had just turned 18 and the person was only a year younger than me

like when it's gone to that point and shit is that fucked up, what can one person even do

i remember i laughed about it back then but truth be told, every single little thing I've been told and that I've listened to coming from the people who hurt me has fucking destroyed me as a person

I looked at my older Discord messages, from before this whole mess started. I was so fucking happy and shameless with my joy, now look at my sorry ass

i just.

it's crazy that i have to go around masking in social media of all places because there are people that take such offense to me being cringe that they legitimately turn into high school mean girls

it's crazy that there are people who claim I'm something i am not because they want to make me look bad in the eyes of their little circlejerking friend groups so they can feel like the hero of the story

it's crazy that empathy goes completely out of the window when an account is big, that people don't see human beings as human beings when they're behind a screen

"just log off lol" i am a lonely shut in motherfucker due to my autism (that, surprise surprise, hinders my ability to socialize), you do not understand what you're asking of me, specially while being in this country and at this point in time where I'm actively craving to kick the metaphorical bucket, at daily risk of doing so, and what basically is house arrest for my own safety and well being

(aka, avoiding to physically yeet myself into upcoming traffic or buying something to actually seal the deal)

thus far I've been accused of antisemitism, pedophilia, being too self-centered (which. bro, the reason why i talk about myself is because it's the one thing i can comment on without being scared of some random person coming to tell me "NuH uH" about it out of nowhere or worse, having their feelings hurt because I don't agree with them 100%), proshipper (which, to those people, the word implies wonderful labels such as "incest apologist" "pedophile" (again) "abuse endorser" among other things) ((sidenote, I'm on neither side on that particular discourse. my friends from both sides know this. I would elaborate on my stance if this wasn't already long enough, but it is, so I'm leaving it at an "I don't care, you do you, but please leave me out of it")), being... mean... because i blocked someone...? (this one is just. that's how the second wave of hate started btw. yeah, because i blocked someone. holy fuck), and there's probably a handful of other things I haven't seen yet. fuck it, there's probably someone out there calling me a zoophile because of my catboy au

My friends who I will not name because I don't want the high school mean girls crusade to get to them, have helped me stash out evidence for all of the accusations and bullying.

fuck, they were the ones who let me know about it on the first place, both actions for which i am eternally thankful for because it means I can defend myself properly should the occasion arise (dios no quiera)

I've already had to make a post on Xitter responding to the antisemitism and pedophilia claims, in which, for the latter, i had to reveal extremely personal information for the people who started this to give me respite if only for a while

and. ugh

What I'm trying to get at with all of this is. it's. coming back is scary. i want to but at the same time I don't think I can take this shit anymore

I wish I had people defending me like this when the harassment started because I'm a spineless little bitch who'd rather talk things out and at least be neutral with people than clap back and tell them to stop being stinky

but what's done is done and now i just gotta figure out how to fix my head before i do something stupid

this is not the full story obviously, I'm cutting off certain details as well as more personal depression stuff to not make this bible longer than it already is

fuck

TLDR: I need a hug, idk if I'm coming back, I probably will cuz I can't say no to people, and some teenagers are horrible

[no-gorms]

Steve/Tony, Hanahaki, UST, open ending

It is an unfortunate fact of Tony’s history that he’s familiar with the longing disease. Lung gardening. Hanahaki, or whatever other euphemisms they’ve come up with lately to describe it.

Naming conventions aside, Tony’s knows well enough what the affliction feels like – the warning sting at the back of the throat that’s followed by the pressure of something more personal, more vicious than mere phlegm. The body’s breathing apparatus has decided to betray its owner, and Tony’s had it enough times that he could be embarrassed, if he were the sort of person to be embarrassed by that kind of thing.

A cough, a heave, and then petals are cascading in a disgusting shower onto the tabletop. At least the tabletop is glass, which is easy to clean, and Tony’s reflexes were fast enough that he’d pushed Hill’s paper folder of printouts clear away.

Most people would be grateful to have their symptoms manifest in privacy. Those who do not, get used to the shocked silence that follows.

“Oh no,” comes Bruce’s voice from Tony’s left. Quiet, worried.

“Maybe—” Natasha clears her throat, businesslike, “—we can take five?”

“Ah, shit.” Tony straightens up and dabs at his mouth with a handkerchief. He eyes the pile of petals with a scowl, noting that they’re bright-colored blooms, as if he’s twenty years old all over again and doesn’t know any better. “Fantastic. Just what we needed today.”

“Yeah, we can take five—” Clint starts.

“As if we don’t have enough to do.” Tony sighs. “Goddammit, Steve.”

“What?” Steve says.

Being an old hat at surviving Hanahaki also means that Tony knows the faces he’ll see when he looks around the table. There’ll be surprise, concern, empathy, and discomfort in various combinations, and Tony gets all of that and then some, because the Avengers have so far rolled with a number of far greater inconveniences with grace.

“Look.” Tony takes one last cleaning swipe of his face with the handkerchief and drops it on the pile. “It’s not your fault, I’m not blaming you, but you gotta step up on this if we’re gonna make the flight out in time to follow Thor’s lead.”

“I, what—” Steve blinks twice, quick and robotic, before those same eyes widen.

Ah, so this is a surprise to Steve, which might be even more irritating than the Hanahaki itself. Tony could try to be half-full-cup about it and take it from the angle that this means that he hadn’t been too ridiculous openly about his burgeoning crush on the good Captain. But that would take more effort than he’s willing to expend.

It was supposed to be just admiration. Idle feelings to be nurtured like a baby bird of a side hobby. Good fucking going, Stark. What had Steve even been doing to make it tip over? Squinting at Natasha’s slide with that stoic yet judgmental purse of the mouth that usually has Tony internally clapping his hands with glee?

That could do it.

“Yeah, I know, it’s stupid,” Tony says, waving it off. “You don’t even like me as a human being, but I’m a masochist that way sometimes. Good news is, I’m also fickle, so it probably won’t be that hard to make me hate you. By this afternoon, hopefully? Or whenever you’re ready, I’m sure you’ll figure something out, but anyway this is still…” He eyes the pile of petals. “This is way early stages, we’ll have weeks, but the sooner the better.”

“What do you mean I don’t like you as a human being?” Steve says, as though that’s the most important part of what Tony just said.

“You need to be mean to me, okay?” Tony says.

Bafflement animates Steve’s normally poster-handsome face. Bafflement, and then offense, as though Tony just asked him to kick puppies, which Tony would never do, and anyway Tony isn’t a puppy. Steve can be mean, sometimes by accident and sometimes on purpose, and those glimpses of candid moments are so rare – for Tony, at least, since the others know Steve far better than Tony ever could – that Tony has and does treasure every single one.

Unfortunately, this thought sends a wave of affection rolling through Tony’s brain, which is followed by a wave of petals rolling out of Tony’s mouth. And this time they do destroy Hill’s folder of printouts.

He recovers faster this time, which may or may not be helped by Bruce patting his back gently.

“Sorry, correction.” Tony wheezes through an inhale. “You need to be mean to me, and not in a sexy way.”

“What—?” Steve starts.

“Stark means that you need to be cruel to him to stunt his feelings for you,” Thor says, nodding solemnly. “But to not use language that he’d find appealing. ‘Tis a fine line, indeed, I understand the challenge there.”

“Thor,” Bruce says.

“What?” Thor says.

“Right,” Clint says, “I think we should not be here for this.”

“We were finishing up anyway.” Tony stands up and shoves all the petals into the folder that will be going into the trash pronto. “I need to do a health scan but you guys can keep going with that entry route, and let me know what you’ve decided before suit up, yeah?“

“Tony,” Steve says. “You’re—that’s dangerous—”

“Yes, yes, I am aware,” Tony says irritably. “Romanoff, have my back?”

“We do face death on the regular,” Natasha says. “This is manageable.”

“See.” Tony points at Steve. “I’ll work on my part, but you have to do yours. Mean. You can do it, I believe in you. Just maybe… don’t use Howard?” He sighs. “No, you should probably use Howard. Anyway, I’ll be in lab, give me a buzz if there’s anything.”

Tony goes with a careless wave over his shoulder, and waits until he’s out of the room and the door is closed before he lets himself wince.

Could’ve gone worse, actually.

[osamucide]

(joe gets kicked out of school for using) drugs with friends (but says this isn't a problem)

last friday, i took acid and mushrooms

i did not transcend

i felt like a walking piece of shit

in a stupid looking jacket

NSFW CONTENT - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

wc: 2.4k

cw: gn!reader - no explicit anatomy mentioned, post-dark era, pre-entrance exam, port mafia!reader, past relationships/implied relationships, dazai-typical suicide mentions, manwhore dazai, explicit sexual content, drugs, references to drugs, drug use, talking and doing drugs, dazai is on drugs, dazai has tried every drug under the sun, just so many fucking drugs. don't do drugs please!

reid: installment 2/? of me using car seat headrest songs alongside dazai fic. ooc dazai probably but i like breaking him not sorry. this is not intended to romanticize substance abuse. addict dazai is a concept very close to my heart this is wholeheartedly me venting also all my fanfic is just so self indulgent. please for the love of god do not do drugs just send them to me thanks. can be read as a stand-alone or a part two to my previous fic drunk drivers/killer whales. you can find me on ao3 @angelzai. enjoy

. . . .ᐟ

“What have you been doing? Since you…”

Left. You falter but Osamu Dazai knows that’s what you mean to say. Since you left. That wouldn't have taken a fucking genius, though.

Well, he thinks, he could be totally honest right now. There's no one to hide from anymore, just himself. The fact that you're sitting with him has some old walls going up - the rather generic ones that go up with everyone - and he's hoping you won't take it personally if he does decide to lie. It would just be easy to. Familiar to.

He turns your voice over in his mind, imagines himself weighing it in his palms, and while the question hangs in the air suddenly he's in bed again with the wench of the week about a month or four back - one he bummed a cigarette off at some club during a routine bender and struck up a conversation with about the conceptualization of incomprehensible units of measurement, like lightyears. Dazai remembers that she took him home and let him snort ecstasy off the small of her back before he made out with her for what felt like six hours. She'd obviously wanted to fuck but he was still thinking, albeit warmly now, about lightyears and space and how awesome it would be to scale the side of a faraway terrestrial planet like an ibex - those cool mountain goats - and look off into a volume of nothing to observe the dilation of time with his tiny, filthy Earth eyes. Yeah, he wasn't getting any of that acute empathy he seemed to gain for other human beings when he was on E, so he asked for more. Her skin had felt like a flannel bed sheet and it almost hurt when she pulled away. He licked this dose off her tongue, per her discretion. It would've been hot if he hadn't imagined what it might feel like to lick a flannel sheet and almost gagged into her mouth. He said, "Sorry, I thought about if your tongue was a flannel sheet." She giggled and he giggled back. He kissed her more. She was so warm. He still couldn't get hard. He just kept thinking. He thought so much about lightyears and flannel sheets until he could barely discern the difference between them. He would've liked to have been wrapped up in either. The last time he had felt this introspective was when he was peaking on nitrous, but it was obvious he was still coming up. He started feeling sweaty and cold. He told himself that wasn't abnormal for ecstasy. He was trying to imagine she was a flannel bed sheet. He was sweating so bad. She was a flannel bed sheet and he was a lightyear and his skin was starting to feel like it was rising off his skeleton. He felt like he'd pissed his pants. He'd pushed her off and bolted for the bathroom. The fan in there was too loud. The manicured hand combing his hair back was burning his scalp. The toilet was kind of grimacing at him all smug-like. He didn't know what a lightyear was. He knew this was bad E. He vomited for an hour straight and meditated briefly on how horribly unsexy he felt before passing out. He woke up with an icepick headache and bummed another cigarette and apologized for pissing his pants on her bed (which he didn't actually do, but this was only clarified after he expressed he thought he had). He insisted that it wasn't her, she was beautiful, she was great, it was just the drugs, it was his own fault, but he still didn't give her his number. He just took the train as close as it went to his apartment, smelling like the very unsexy kind of sweat. Instead of showering, he had popped a Xan and went to bed. It was 3pm. And that was more or less what he had been doing since he left the Port Mafia.

While he recalls this, he makes some vague hand motions and opens his mouth a few times, not unlike a fish, as if he's about to speak but doesn't quite have the words yet. It's not that he doesn't want to tell you. You've been around long enough to have seen him and others high out of their minds plenty of times before. He knows you'd barely blame him for the wretched financial hole he has himself in now that Mori isn't around to sugar-daddy all his substances for him. It isn't remotely about the drugs.

It's about the fact that you found him in a bar in Numazu by total chance and paid his weeks-long tab before even asking him any questions about where he's been. He's not sure why you did that.

It's about the fact that you paid for the hotel room he's sitting cross-legged on the bed in, in front of you. He's considering how deep the crescents beneath your eyes look.

It's about the fact that you kissed him once when you both were sixteen and it convinced him that he'd never kiss anyone else ever again. But then he left, and in the year and a half since he's last seen you he's had more meaningless sex with more meaningless people than there were freckles across your whole body, which had, by the way, meant everything to him at one point.

"Not really..." Dazai shakes his head. "Anything at all."

You light a cigarette even though it's a non-smoking room. You'll be able to foot the bill.

"Come on," you say out of the corner of your mouth, puffing smoke in his face. "Not really anything at all?"

He doesn't ask, just takes the smoke from your lips to put it between his own. "Drugs," he summarizes truthfully. "Mostly coke. There's nothing like it. I swear it's better than H."

You quirk your mouth in semi-disapproval, taking back your cigarette. "You did always like your blow."

"Been exploring academia too, I suppose. I'm learning calculus right now." He's trying to make up for it. He doesn't need to.

Now you really look at him like he's on drugs. "For fun?" He nods, pleased with himself. "I thought you didn't like pain." You finally smile a little bit.

"It's interesting!" he insists with his signature drama. "God, can I just have my own?" He's gesturing to your pack, and you indulge him, lighting it off your own.

You look like you want to say something else, sucking your cigarette down like it's a race. Dazai studies you. Prompts you with nothing but his eyes, just like he always has, and you understand. It's your turn to look for the words.

"I mean... like... what- what," you make the vague hand motions too, "what are you doing, though? How- how are you... not..."

"Dead?" he finishes. "Yeah. I struck a cute little deal with the government."

He doesn't like how you lean back from him, even if it's slight, even if he expects it. He doesn't like how your eyes narrow and you look at him with something he can only place as distrust. You almost want to get up off the bed, but you stay, gazing into him. You're not flustered so easily by him anymore, and he has to notice. He does. And regardless, he knows exactly what you're thinking before you say it. "I didn't take you for a fed, Dazai." He knows about the gun in your jacket, too, and that you're at attention now. Your use of his last name stings.

"I didn't sell you out," he says, mocking offense, pushing himself up on those gangly limbs to cut a line of whatever's in the little plastic bag he pulls from his back pocket. "I didn't sell anyone out. Ango's a double agent. You have to know." You shrug - you'd be ashamed to admit you hadn't a clue - and your apprehension melts, but only a little. "My record's expunged as long as I clean up and sign on at the ADA in about six months."

You look at him incredulously, but he's busy at the desk. He could've left it at calculus.

"And this is your idea of cleaning up?" you ask.

The response you receieve is a long sniff. Dazai straightens out, huffs, pulls another drag off his cigarette.

If you were anyone else it would definitely be unwise of him to give such information to someone very much still on the inside. As high up as you had been alongside Dazai, knowledge of who had their fingers in what organizations was never for you to have. Your rank has only fallen since he left. You've developed a nose for people - you must after so long in the mafia - and Ango, who lays so low, especially after Sakunosuke's death, isn’t exactly at the top of your list until right now. You briefly wonder how much the boss knows. Mori surely would've killed Ango for orchestrating the freeing of his most precious pet. Mori surely has people after Dazai. As a matter of fact, he might have people after you already, not even an hour after you found the former prince of the underworld slumped over on a bar stool, because you never really know who’s watching. At the end of all that, though, your thoughts snag on whether that's something Ango could help anyone with, or if it was only for Dazai. No snitching would be involved. You don't think you're qualified to be a detective, but certainly there's some community service you could do to mop up after yourself, right?

Dazai seats himself in front of you again. The rest of this conversation does not happen verbally - not right away, at least. Whether it’s the coke or the accusatory tone your voice carried, he looks a little emptier than before. He looks an entire world away from you. You don’t say this aloud but he nods numbly like he hears you. You dimly recall a conversation you had with him years ago in which he told you he’d never done anything in his life that made him proud. That he didn’t really view himself as a person, but rather a machine designed toward destruction. Machines didn’t feel proud - didn’t feel anything, and no more or less when they executed their intended function.

You’re struck with the awareness that you still seem to know him so vividly, despite how much he’s obviously changed. The parts of this machine are shinier as if they’ve been cleaned. Although it grows old, it works like new, given its context. You recognize exactly what it’s doing. What he’s doing. And you think, maybe if you just throw your hand into the gears - even if it hurts you, even if it takes a piece of you off and mangles it - maybe you can get it to stop.

He, too, selfishly considers that you could be his way out. But is it really selfish if he can admit he'd drop it all if you asked him to? Flesh thrown against a monstrous man-made creation. Even though you seem to have stayed so very much the same, he doesn’t assume he knows you like he once did. But these could be the right circumstances. Maybe he just needs some flesh. Just needs somebody.

“You just need somebody.” Your head’s on the pillow, you twirl his hair, and that’s what you say to him after you both fuck like two virgins. You don’t mean to imply that somebody could be yourself, but for what it’s worth, that’s how he takes it. He can’t remember the last time sex made him cry, anyway, so it might as well be you.

“Just fucking leave.”

Your eyes snap open as the words leave him. Leave? Leave the room you paid for? That was rich, considering the kindness you’ve extended to him tonight after he abandoned you. Your throat constricts around the fact that not even ten minutes ago you were entangled with him in a way that felt both familiar and new. You would’ve proposed another round and let him clasp his hands around your neck like he used to. He’d always insist you’d beg him to stop one day, but you never did. Ten minutes ago you were ready to wipe away his bloody nose with your hair if he asked. Now he’s asking you to leave.

You sit up and throw your legs over the edge of the bed. Your eyes burn with tears and you’re about to get up, get dressed, maybe unload the remainder of the clip in your gun into his kneecaps - but he grabs your elbow.

“Leave the Port, idiot.” You look at him. Concern isn’t an emotion that graces Dazai’s features too often, and here it is. “That came out horribly. Plus, you’re so nice and warm. Get back here.”

So you do. You do what you do best when it comes to Dazai - you crawl back, disregarding how he’s hurt you. Hurt himself. And you just cry.

You cry because you’re so relieved you just misinterpreted him. You cry because he gives you whiplash so goddamn easily. You cry because you don’t have to give leaving a second thought. You cry because a year and a half ago he obviously wouldn’t have insisted you follow him. You cry because he’s so out of character and you almost think you like it. You cry because you like how warm he feels, too. You cry because he’s on drugs. He doesn’t cry because he already did while you made him cum, and now his pupils aren’t so blown, but with you against his chest he doesn’t feel like he needs to get up to do another bump, and that’s plenty for both of you. For all intents and purposes, the walls are all down now. Maybe he really needed to find you. You know you really needed to find him. It’s going to be difficult and dangerous and there’s more to be said, but at least you’ve found him.

You’re sniveling. He’s kissing your hair. “You can teach me calculus.”

Dazai recognizes the laugh that rumbles in his chest as one he hasn’t felt since he’d last seen you. “We’ll get ahold of Ango in the morning.”

[fuck-customers]

God some ppl truly are on this earth for themselves and themselves alone. Not a shred of empathy for other humans, it’s just them in their own little world and everyone else can just get fucked. I don’t get how ppl get through life with that kind of outlook like tofay i had a lady, I saw her taking a shirt out of her cart and throwing it on my shelf in my section (I can’t leave my section during store hours) and so I asked her to please hang on to it and give it to the cashier if she didn’t want it.

“Well someone else put this in my cart.”

Ok… that still doesn’t mean you need to leave it in the shelf that I just fucking cleaned and tidied. Whether you picked it up or not, fhe nice thing to do would be to take it with you and hand it off to the cashier later. It’s really not asking a lot. But as I said before, some ppl refuse to do even the smallest fucking favor for their fellow human.

I tell her that even if it wasn’t hers, she’d be doing me a big favor by taking it bc we work very hard to keep things tidy and I also can’t leave my area to go put the shirt back in it’s place. I’m hoping she will finally get the idea and be nice to me.

Nope, she continues to argue.

“Well I’m just gonna leave it on this other shelf then, it’s in the clothes section.” I look at her like ??? Like how is that any better than leaving it on a shelf in the makeup section? Someone is still going to have to pick that up.

I’m just baffled speechless at this point but I guess she took that as me not understanding what she says. She continues “I’ll just leave it with the clothes bc it’s clothing.”

Like yes bitch I understand your stupid logic. What I’m not understanding is why you’re so goddamn averse to doing the littlest, convenient fucking favor for a retail worker. What im not understanding is how people like you fucking exist, that would rather argue and whine and fight tooth and nail before they do something nice for someone else.

Finally she says she’s going to leave it in the clothes and just turns away and throws it on top of a shelf of shoes and storms off. I call after her “these are the shoes?” But she pretends she doesn’t hear me. Fucking cunt. Will never understand people like this, it truly blows my mind how selfish and inconsiderate some ppl are. It’s so disheartening to know that some people really do consider workers to be subhuman, and that any act of kindness towards them is pointless/wasted. Fuck off and die and when you’re reincarnated into the next life, I hope you work in retail and get shat on just like you do to everyone now. What goes around comes around and if you’ve been living your whole life this way, honey you’ve got a LOT coming

Posted by admin Rodney.

[utilitycaster]

Is it just me or are some of the more intense Imaudna folk…kind of mirroring Imogen’s over-defensiveness of Liliana? Or at least uncritically accepting Imogen’s assessment of her, without acknowledging her “bias”? (as we are now apparently calling the characters’ family - so K-pop of us)

I’m not saying she’s a terrible mother - she’s literary moving heaven and earth for Imogen [and herself] - but she’s helping bring about what could be an apocalyptic event, on the off-chance that it could relieve them of their powers.

And I get why people wanna ignore that in favor of Imogen reuniting with her Mom and building a relationship with her. But it’s frustrating when you remember that some of the people her Mom has fucked over include Kiki and the Ashari (not just Orym) and that she’s working with a guy that allowed Trent’s abuse of Caleb, who Beau has spent years working to take down, and we still don’t know what’s happened to those two.

Again - shades of gray, and we all love villains and complicated, messy women. But it’s quite the slice of cognitive dissonance to see fandom *really* pile on Fearne’s parents for abandoning her (especially when it was only six years as far as they knew), but even after she’s party to nearly murdering Kiki, we shouldn’t be assuming the worst of Liliana?

(Just read this back and…I don’t think some these Imaudna fans are actually Marisha fans)

I don't think it's mirroring Imogen, per se. Or rather, I think this is all part of the larger trend I've touched upon for some time: there are a segment of shippers with absolutely no empathy for or generosity towards anything that interferes with the ship. Ideally, they'd like to also support Imogen and Laudna as individuals; but even then the ship comes before the characters. As you said, they're not really Marisha - or Laudna - or for that matter Imogen or Laura fans. They're fans of them playing characters who are in a relationship together.

When Imogen was upset with Laudna for breaking the gnarlrock, there was a pretty prevalent attitude of "but it wasn't LAUDNA's fault, so why is Imogen upset, that's unfair" even though the rock is still broken and it happened when it was in Laudna's possession and, frankly, had Imogen not given the rock to Laudna, she'd still have it. In retrospect this has gotten even more wild, because since then, they've leaned very far into the negative effects Imogen experiences as a result of her powers as an argument as to why she's allowed to do whatever she wants, but at the time if you pointed out Imogen found relief from the rock and is justified in having an emotional response, you were met with screams of HOW DARE YOU BE MEAN TO LAUDNA. This hypocrisy is of course tied into the lack of empathy, because said lack of empathy rests on granting infinite grace to those who support or even merely recognize the ship, no matter their other actions (eg: Otohan), and dismissing the feelings of anyone else.

When Laudna died, it was a pretty common attitude among Imogen and Laudna shippers (I would say Laudna fans, but quite honestly almost every post grieving her was just as much about the ship as the character) that Orym would have been happy to have remained dead because he was a widower. This is a horrifying mentality to have - people's partners do die young, and most people choose to continue living - and was also notably untrue based on Liam's statements both in and out of game. You'll notice that "Orym doesn't want to die and felt like this was a massive failure" on 4SD never took off, but "Orym can't be objective" on 4SD has been blown to ludicrous proportions that show a stunning lack of understanding of like...basic human emotions and their role in decision-making. Because there's no consistency except The Ship.

When the party went to Whitestone, and Percy was in fact played as someone with very complicated and layered feelings about death and dying, and who was not going to change his developed principles for a stranger, he was lambasted. The fact that Delilah Briarwood is just as responsible for his trauma - repeatedly so, she was the architect of both his family's murder and the reason why Vecna achieved godhood, she's literally why his brother-in-law is dead, the Briarwoods have been responsible for two of Vex's deaths - was completely ignored. The fact that Vex and Pike were not spiting him in the end, but rather developed a mutually acceptable plan that permitted Laudna's resurrection with a contingency plan to kill her if Delilah returned led to some pretty harsh criticism of them as well.

FCG was pretty popular among the shippers for quite some time because he wanted everyone to get along and wanted Imogen and Laudna to make up after the gnarlrock fight (note: this is also true of Ashton and Orym, both of whom as discussed have since fallen from grace because they continued to exist as characters with their own thoughts and motivation) and had a lot in common with Imogen. However, a series of things occurred that led to their fall from grace among the shippers. The first was that FCG's coin is why Orym was resurrected instead of Laudna. The second is that Shared Dream was not, in fact, intended only to let Laudna go into Imogen's dreams, but rather allowed anyone in the party to go. The third is that FCG started to find a purpose beyond "help others no matter what," particularly after realizing they had a soul and were in fact a person, and specifically began exploring religion. Religion is unpopular with Imodna shippers particularly after 3x49 and Imogen's consideration of the Vanguard, but there's also definitely a mix of obvious ex-fundamentalists who never unpacked their feelings and instead just want all their fiction to validate their new beliefs. The fourth is that FCG/FRIDA "stole" the first canon relationship spot (which also confirmed that FCG was, in fact, shippable rather than some kind of robot eunuch with nothing better to do than push Imogen and Laudna together). And so you get some really fucked statements. Like, when I say I've seen "I hope someone makes that robot eat their stupid coin" that's not exaggeration; it's pretty much verbatim. That's not a post that a person who makes any attempt to understand experiences other than their own can make in earnest, but it does make sense from the perspective of someone who has decided Imogen and Laudna's relationship is the heart of the show and is angered that five other main PCs exist and have their own interests.

Ashton occupies a truly fascinating space, in that they're oddly popular, in part because their scenes with Laudna are genuinely unmissably fantastic scenes for Laudna. It's one of the only places where Laudna takes off the mask (though she's started to with Orym too). He also overlaps with a lot of what makes Imogen popular, except it's canon where Imogen's is subtext, or it's obviously more severe (Imogen's mom left? Ashton's an orphan. Imogen's had a few headaches? Ashton has chronic pain). So they hated when he pointed out he'd been abandoned by his friends in a way Laudna hadn't (also because Ashton and Laudna's conversation in 3x49 was just far more honest than Imogen and Laudna's, and because Laudna sought them out), but they like him when he's supportive of Laudna. They're constantly on the thinnest of ice because of this and because they're a genuinely compelling character, but because of that, might get in the way of what said shippers want, namely, a hundred episodes of Imogen and Laudna sipping tea at Zhudanna's and having a lovely time.

Following Imogen considering joining the Vanguard, Orym fell out of vogue despite his previous interactions with Imogen, because he very justifiably pointed out, as I've said, that the Ruby Vanguard killed his husband and his father-in-law (whom he saw as a father figure himself), and used a toxin that ensured they couldn't be brought back. I've talked about this a ton and so I'm not going to rehash every aspect, but the fact remains that while I like Imogen's choice to do this - conflict is fun! It makes sense for her character! - it's an incredibly insensitive thing to say. (It blows Ashton's statement about loneliness out of the water, for sure; incidentally, Ashton pointing out the more general hey girl they murder everyone who disagrees did NOT sit well with the hey let's harass everyone who disagrees crowd.) And when you mix it in with the god stuff discussed regarding FCG, Orym has become the periannath non grata of choice to the point of a similar response to the gnarlrock fight - if you sympathize with him, they see it as an attack not just on Imogen but on Laudna, for...not talking about Laudna as well. This has only gotten worse with Orym firmly committing to destroying the Vanguard, to the point that there are, generously speaking, misunderstandings or misrememberings of the text, and less generously speaking, outright lies. A notable one is that Laudna begins to tap into Delilah before Orym nods (Marisha's mention of the purplish hue is at 2:52:02 in episode 3x63; Orym's nod is at 3:01:42, a solid 9+ minutes later); he supports her decision, but he is not responsible for it.

Then there's the guests. Deanna was obviously made to ask Imogen about Laudna. She's here to ask them if they're married. She's here to encourage Imogen to follow her heart. She's definitely not here to have her own active and interesting love life and personal feelings about the gods (that conflict with Imogen's) and history and perspective. Oh she's...she's calling out Imogen's nonstop use of psychic powers? She's having a three-way with Chetney and Fearne? FRIDA is hooking up with FCG and admitted their anger about the gods was mostly due to projecting their personal anger about feeling powerless and having been awoken without their consent? Uhhhhhh Deni$e was obviously made to to ask Laudna about Imogen. She's definitely not here to be a connection to Dariax and have her own active and interesting love life and personal feelings about the gods. Wait, no, maybe Bor'Dor will ask about it? Uhhhhhh *flips coin but not in an FCG way* Laudna will *rolls dice* mentor Prism and this will...make this ship happen? Oh, won't these people with their own distinct personalities and motivations who keep having conversations with Orym and Ashton and each other stop doing that and just presume that a specific one of the four other people in Bells Hells they've never met and probably don't remember the names of is married to Laudna? Won't someone stop playing their character as a fully fleshed out person whose life is entirely unaffected by Laudna and Imogen's respective love lives? Oh and then Bor'Dor did ask about the relationship, and it was because it was a weakness and he was trying to infiltrate.

Quite literally? It goes as far as the gods! Why didn't they save Laudna? To which I'd say sure, let's explore what happens if they did! Let's follow this thread! Do they just save Laudna and maybe her family and no one else? Why Laudna? Does she get saved at the expense of some other dark-haired girl in Whitestone? Or perhaps they save everyone. Perhaps the De Rolos remain in power, and Campaign 1 doesn't fucking happen I guess, and Laudna grows up, and she lives out the rest of her life in Whitestone, and she's a woman in her 50s now - maybe even married, perhaps with children - and has never been to Marquet and wouldn't know or care about some random 20-something with purple hair. Like, what are you driving at here? Maybe the gods let Laudna die because that was the only way to bring her to Imogen. Ever think of that? (alternately: how do you know they didn't? What if Laudna's undead state has to do with Vecna? You didn't specify if it was the Primes or the Betrayers, or how she gets saved; she's still living after a hanging, which some might consider a miraculous gift. What if it was the Dawnfather acting through the Sun Tree? Can you describe what you want the gods to have done and where that puts us in 843 PD or do you just say shit hoping no one will ever poke at it?) When do the gods intervene? Do they make sure nothing bad ever happens to anyone? Are mortals just dolls the gods move around with no free will?

So anyway. I don't think these feelings about Liliana are based on mirroring Imogen's thought process. I do not think there is a level of consideration that Imogen and Laudna have motivations (motivations mean they can be something other than perfect flawless victims who found each other). It is simply "Imogen wants this, Laudna will validate anything she does, and so it's correct." The party line for anything else "fuck your trauma, fuck your dead family and dead loves, fuck your own hopes and dreams and goals: you exist only to fawn over two random-ass women. It doesn't matter if they are strangers to you. It doesn't matter if you've only met one of them. It doesn't matter how they act towards you. It doesn't matter if you're one of them, if you step out of line. This is your sole purpose, and if you fail, you're not a person to me." There's absolutely no thought put into the implications of anything they say beyond "it supports the ship, or, if not, it perpetuates the blameless, perfect and thus boring frozen state of the characters."

[thistlecatfics]

hey, sorry if this is annoying but i just found your works today and fell for them completely. your descriptions of bellatrix made my very old fixations rear their heads again. i was wondering what your current opinions are on jk rowling? i tried to look here but only really found things from before her terf-turn and that’s what i’m really interested in your thoughts on. i’m just curious and will be very grateful if you’d be considerate enough to answer

Hello! Thank you so much! Definitely not annoying and if I ever got an ask I didn't feel like answering I could very easily ignore it or delete it :)

The short answer: fuck jkr. the world will be better off when she dies.

The long answer: Yes, I feel anger towards her (see above lol), but there's also grief there. These books (and the fandom but the root is the books) helped me so much as a kid. I loved them, and it felt like I could be loved back by them. When I did EMDR therapy for my experiences of incest, I used Sirius Black as a resource to help me through one particular thread of memory and one of the themes that came up for me repeatedly during reprocessing is how much fiction and storytelling helped me survive and how grateful I am for storytellers. When I was a kid, if I was asked which celebrity I'd want to meet, I'd always pick her. She was important to me. I'm sad. I'm hurt. It feels genuinely painful to try to reconnect with some of those feelings.

Everyone likes to mock her casual post-canon reveal of Dumbledore as being gay, but that happened exactly as I was starting to come out and actually accept that I was gay, and it genuinely, genuinely mattered to me, and I'm stubbornly resisting the urge to feel embarrassed about my teenage joy and relief now.

(I always say I had some practice with this feeling of betrayal because the other book/book series which was so important to me as a kid was Ender's Game and Orson Scott Card was such an extreme, violent homophobe, but it definitely hurt more with jkr.)

(I recognize I'm gliding over the genuine fatphobia, antisemitism, sexism and racism in her writing and extra-canon world building but I do think the transphobia piece is the central one here - the area where she's doing the most acute and extreme harm.)

The embarrassing longer answer is that I'm arrogant enough that I think I could pull her back to reality (and get her out of that mold infested house) if I was given enough time with her. I'm really patient and really convincing and I have a ton of empathy for women who have experienced extreme patriarchal violence which has shaped their political views - even in a way that disconnects them from reality.

I'm also someone who is put off by how in many progressive spaces there's the dominant view that gender is a playground, not a violent system of power relations, and so I can connect with her on that point enough that I can fantasize about helping connect her to the full humanity of trans people (and also herself because by dehumanizing others we dehumanize ourselves.) (there's a lot to be said about the unique balance of wealth and whiteness and gendered trauma (and social media) as creating a potent dehumanizing force.) BUT I recognize that's just my impulse to fix and rescue and want to recreate this safe adult figure in my life and it's definitely not fucking happening lol.

(I also have a lot of feelings about how the fandom tries to deal with the problem of jkr but this is already plenty long and you only asked about my feelings about her haha.) (but yeah in general I follow the 'no financial support of her - not even a little bit. not even watching the movies on max or purchasing anything that might give her a cent.')

going to finish off with this really beautiful short piece of writing from Chinese Canadian trans woman writer Kai Cheng Thom from her book "Falling Back in Love with Being Human." Her ability to lean into empathy and love is a north star I try to follow.

[necros-writing-stuff]

Yaaay Necro is back! Drop us some more Eden or Dare content to drool over! MOOOOOAAAARRR!!! It's never enufff!! Neverr!! Also someday can't promise when I'll get around making fanart for both and you'll be the first to see! If only my brain can pump some juice oho~ pump

More is always coming, don't you worry! Also I'd be honored to see the art, thank you very much for loving Dare enough to do that!

Okay okay so. Old dog man Darius. Retired (fired) police dog. Caucasian Shepherd.

Was a great working dog until one day he turned around and savaged his handlers arm. No one could figure out why, and he was about to be euthanized, until you came along and promised that you could safely house and care for him.

These dog people are much more intelligent than the general public believes, you know that. It's cruel how they're treated. The least you can do for Darius is provide him a safe place to recuperate until he can find a permanent home.

Or rather, that was the plan. Darius decided he'd never be leaving. This is his home now, and more importantly, you're his fucking mate.

The neighbours shudder in fear everytime they pass, Dare's ever watchful gaze glaring at them from the window. Any one of them could be a threat. His skin itches, the urge to snarl and bark to make them all leave powerful in his mind. But he's aware you could get evicted for that. So he stays in his spot, watching.

When he's not at the window, he's following you around. Satisfied and content as you make his food, always the absolute best diet you can manage for him. Always delicious. You aren't afraid to pet him, either, scratching at his chin before he rests it on top of your head so he can better see what your hands do as you work away at the stove.

He can't help how he hardens when you're so close. He's from a good breeding line, so he was never neutered like many other dog men. Your empathy for him and acknowledgement of his intellect stopped you from chopping the boys off, too. You could have. Hell, the vet recommended it.

But you ignore his less than sneaky humping at your backside. Just gentle little motions at first, testing you to see how you'll react. Most of the time you do act like nothing is happening, other times you give an excuse of needing your space for this or that to make Dare back away.

He's frustrated, you'd argue to yourself. He doesn't fully comprehend what he's doing. Not like dog people are taught sex ed like humans are. You add it to your list of things to approach him with. He's a diligent student in that class, already surprisingly knowledgeable in some parts but missing gaps elsewhere. His dry humping doesn't cease. If anything, now he's becoming bolder. Nuzzling against your neck, licking at the skin there and giving you hopeful eyes. But the answer is still no.

You're his guardian. You own him by law for God's sake. It's not fair. But maybe you can find him another dog person to be with, someone who wouldn't have power over the sweet old dog man.

It was the morning he woke up to find you cooking in nothing but one of his shirts that he snapped and just gave in altogether. Not the best mental health week for you. You'd lacked on laundry, he didn't know how the machine worked (you'd tried explaining, he just "never got it" - aka, didnt want to), so you'd thrown on one of his clean t-shirts to sleep. You'd do the washing today, had to, but breakfast was always first.

Poor thing. So tired, so lost in your own head that you aren't aware of the looming body behind. Darius practically salivated at what he was seeing, his tail wagging and his ears pricked forward. He's not one for oggling legs, they're just a body part, but yours look amazing that morning. There was no hesitation as he sank to his knees behind you, lifting the hem of his shirt to expose your core to his hungry eyes.

People ask you all of the time if you're scared that if Darius, as big and strong as he is, decided to attack you, you wouldn't be able to fight him off. You'd always laughed it off. You weren't now. Not with his hot tongue lapping incessantly against your hole, one arm pinning you to the counter (and keeping you bent at an angle) as the other holds a leg still. No, you're stuck whimpering and moaning.

The sounds it makes is obscene, the wet smacks too loud in your ears. Darius is ravenous in how he devours you, how his tongue pokes, prods and flicks, his lips suckling and kissing until your legs feel weak and you orgasm right there against the counter. Darius has to slowly lower you to the floor with him, pulling you into his lap as you both catch your breath.

"You-you can't do that again, Dare. It's not okay, its-"

"Mates take care of each other, no? You're less stressed now, aren't you? What's the big deal?"

There's no getting through to him. Not a chance. He's a dog with a bone, and he certainly has a resource guarding issue.

[streamdotpng]

I caught you JDWicked :)

"Why can't you just accept that people care for you? Is it so hard to think maybe someone could look at you and go "Oh! Maybe they shouldn't fucking die!"?"

"I can take care of myself. I don't need you to care for me."

Helios is taken aback at that. How dare she? She can't stop from yelling.

"DID YOU EVER CONSIDER MAYBE I NEED TO TAKE CARE OF YOU?! THAT I WANT TO? I WATCHED THE HYDRA PUT A HOLE IN YOU AND I- I- I'M SUPPOSED TO JUST NOT CARE? I'M SUPPOSED TO JUST IGNORE YOU WALKING AROUND WITH A GAPING WOUND AND ACT LIKE IT'S ALL FINE AND DANDY AND NOT THE SCARIEST THING I'VE EVER FUCKING SEEN?"

"Don't act like you care, Helios. We both know we just wanted to have a good story for your mother. "The big bad wolf finally coming out?" A perfect story to get her respect." The cool tone might've calmed her down at a different time.

A different place.

A different life.

Helios' muscles feel like someone dropped a lit match into a barrel of gunpower. She can feel the starts of steam just before the first sparks ignites.

And she ignites.

"HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!"

She's screaming now. She can feel her voice carry and deflect from the trees and earth and air. She can feel her voice rattle her bones.

She hopes Viper's bones rattle too.

"HOW DARE YOU FUCKING SIT THERE AND ACT ALL HIGH AND MIGHTY AND ALONE? YOU WOULDN'T KNOW ALONE IF IT THREW YOU INTO A DARK CLOSET AND BEAT YOU FOR SPEAKING OUT OF TURN-"

"What-" Viper starts but Helios isn't listening now. She's mad and her anger thrums under her skin like magma.

Her body is a gas filled coal-mine. And Viper is a moronic canary flying in while set ablaze.

"-NO. YOU HAVE HAD THE CHANCE TO TALK, AND TALK, AND TALK, AND I AM DONE. IT'S YOUR TURN TO FUCKING LISTEN. I HAVE WATCHED YOU RUN INTO FIRES AND DANGER AND MONSTERS- I HAVE WATCHED YOU COME BACK TO THE DORMS WITH A FUCKING KNIFE IN YOUR GUT. I-"

She can feel tears push on the back of her eyes. She hates that she sounds caring.

She hates that she is.

"-I FUCKING DARE TO CARE THE SLIGHTEST OUNCE FOR YOU AND WHAT HAPPENS?! YOU TELL ME TO FUCK OFF! TELL ME THAT I'M BEING ANNOYING- BECAUSE HOW COULD I EVER DECIDE TO HAVE SOME FUCKING EMPATHY FOR ANOTHER PERSON?! IS THAT IT? YOU THINK YOU'RE ABOVE EMPATHY?!"

"I-"

"GUESS FUCKING WHAT? YOU AREN'T. YOU THINK YOU ARE, YOU- YOU THINK YOU'RE ABOVE YOUR HUMANITY AND FOR FUCKING WHAT? WHAT'S IT ALL FOR?!"

She turns and slams a fist into the tree closest to her. The bark and core collapses under her swing.

She turns back to Viper. She can feel her bones shake from her rage. If she didn't love the shorter woman, she'd be strangling her.

"WHAT IS IT ALL. FUCKING. FOR?!"

"I'M TRYING TO KEEP YOU SAFE, IMBECILE!"

For a brief, brief moment, the world stands still. There's no forest-fire raging, pushing ever closer to them. No monster just beyond the edge of the forest that they can hear the feel the attacks of, even so far into the forest as they are. There's no haunting sense of fleeting time.

They're just 2 scared girls in the woods. 2 scared girls who care for each other, but only one can say it.

And it's here, in their little fragment of frozen time, that 2 scared girls embrace.

Maybe embrace is too graceful a word. It's more of honey and poisoned-glue being smacked together and trapping one another.

They barely have time for frantic "I love you"s and a wild plea for the other to stay safe before they part ways.

Viper to the flames.

Helios to the monster.

Their efforts will be enough to win.

They have to be.

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

"C-cut!" Comes the shaky call, as the blare of the "End Scene Alarm" rings in the studio.

"Holy shit, are y'all alright? That got so fucking intense."

"I-" Bianca's actress has tears falling down her face in waves. Sin wonders if a siren's body has enough water to cry that much. "Fuck."

"Yeah, I-" Tyler's actor barely speaks through his sobs. "I can't fucking be on this set, I did to go breathe and calm down and not be here for the reshoot, I-" Bianca's actress takes his hand, crying just as hard- harder, maybe- and leads them both off set.

"It.. wasn't that bad? I think you guys got a lil' too invested in it. And yet, we're the actresses." Sin gestures to herself, then Wednesday.

Wednesday says nothing.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Yoko piped up. Sin's only seen her cry when she thought her and Divina had broken up, and yet she's bawling. Sin bear-hugs her, and picks her up.

She grips tightly.

"That's my wife." Wednesday grumbles. She begins walking to her and Sin's little trailer-breakroom. "Do you want tea?"

Sin swings herself and Yoko around to face Wednesday.

"Yes please!"

"Everyo-everyone take 5! or- maybe 10! Jus-just take a break. fuck. I need to go cry."

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

"Ya think we over did it? Everyone seemed really upset- Thing stilled hasn't gotten over it!" Enid points at the shaking hand, holding onto the box that held Enid and Wednesday's wedding rings.

"They'll be fine. I think it a compliment- my writing-"

"And our acting."

"-Moved them to tears." Wednesday takes a powdered donut and eats it.

She wipes her sugared fingers on Enid's black sweatpants.

"Hey!"

Wednesday smirks, then takes a drink of her coffee.

"Relax, we'll just tell everyone that it's coke. They'll be understanding."

Enid slaps her arm in scorn.

"Wednesday!"

Wednesday rolls her eyes, then takes Enid's hand.

Kisses it.

"No." Enid reels her arm back in. "No kissies for coke-fiend rumor-spreading girlfriends!"

Wednesday's eyes get glassy. Wet. Enid knows the aren't fully black; they're a very dark brown.

"Wha-"

"No rumors or no kissies!"

Wednesday's eyes get wetter, bigger. Enid wonders if she has any werewolf in her because that's a very good set of puppydog eyes.

"Forever?" She asks, voicing breaking. She looks like she's about to cry.

"What? No, Willa it's just a joke."

"You promise?" Her voice wobbles.

"Yes, yes I promise Babycakes, I promise. I couldn't live without your kissies. Is jus'a joke."

"Not very funny."

Enid sighs and rubs Wednesday's back, soothing circles. She kisses the top of her head.

"Yeah, I got that from you almost fucking crying."

There's a bang on their door, and Enid almost breaks her wife's spine when she flinches and hugs her closer instinctively.

"You're on in 15- and, for the love of god, warn us before you decided to give it your all and make everyone cry. Miss Tanaka still hasn't stopped crying."

Enid rolls her eyes now, takes Wednesday by the arms and kisses her.

"They think that was our best? I pity them."

"We got 15 minutes." Enid stands them both, dramatically steps back, then offer her hand.

"May I have this dance?"

Wednesday crosses her arms, then stares at Enid's hand.

"Remind me why we're married?" She takes the werewolf's hand, setting them into a position to start dancing.

Enid spins them slowly, smoothly. Wednesday taught her to slow dance.

"I'm cute, taller than you and can put up with your bullshit?"

Wednesday scoffs, let's Enid push her out then reel her back in spinning.

She pushes herself to the bulky wall of Enid's body.

"I don't know about cute. I'd say more... seductive. Painfully charming. Impossible to ignore and overlook."

"Careful," Enid whispers into Wednesday's shoulder. She kisses it. Scrapes it with her teeth. "We've only got 9 minutes left."

-Writer Anon. (also Yoko was there for emotional support and free food. She ended up needing the emotional support.)

Omygod writer anon really be coming in for the clutch, thank you again for the really good content

I'll prob shift the Viper books from being rather accurate to what happened in their nevermore years to being inspired and based on it. There's alot of similarities if you knew the source material and the book

It also helps give freedom in writing these types of things 💀

if it helps lycoan curse is where Enid low key skips another semester due to outside reasons. She's taken to smth akin to a camp so she can be tested by these elder wolves (If yknow then yknow) bc her status as a grimwolf has been exposed due to the rumors from sophomore year and they need to know if she's with them or against them

[dottie-writes-haikyuu]

Whatever I’ve Done….

This is part 12 of my fic Not Everyone Survives (But I will do the Best I Can). Tags and other chapters can be found here!

I did it for love / I did it for fun / Couldn’t get enough…

Koutarou couldn’t exactly conceal the dread pooling within him when he saw Tsukishima and the rugrats enter the lab. The blonde avoided his eyes and watched all the curious, confused, and concerned glances he got from the rugrats. Some of them, he recognized.

“This is Subject 8. We will be using it to find a cure to the virus and put an end to the apocalypse.”

That felt weird. ‘Subject 8’. And they made him feel like an object, or a specimen of some kind. He was a person. He was a human.

There was an uneasy silence for a second.

“Wait, isn’t that Bokuto, from Torch, though?”

“We will be referring to it as Subject 8 during its stay here.”

“Why?”

“Don’t question it. Orders from Captain.”

“He’s a consenting test subject, don’t worry,” Tobio assured from the doorway. The ravenette walked in and sat at one of the empty tables.

Consenting.

That was funny.

The first week was probably the worst. He was having needles shoved into him, things taken out of him, chemicals put into him. Most of it hurt. Some of them looked pitying, others curious.

“Isn’t this acid?” one of the guys asked, and Tsukishima looked away.

“Continue with the procedure.”

What.

What what what.

“But—“

“Anyone who shows sympathy for the subject will be punished,” Shouyou stated from the doorway. They were about four days in now. He already hated the sound of the ginger’s voice. “Continue with the procedure.”

He was gonna throw up.

He steeled himself, unable to meet the boy’s teary, apologetic eyes as he grit his teeth, clenching his fists and willing himself not to react too badly. Just don’t react too badly.

And then it started.

It spread through his veins at an excruciatingly slow rate and made his vision blur. The world was spinning and he couldn’t focus on anything else except for the sensation of being set ablaze and the fire crawling up his body was taking its time, spreading only with every pulse of his heart. He couldn’t even make a sound. He couldn’t move.

The voices around him were muffled and the heart monitor in his collar started beeping quicker than normal and then everything was yelling and his skin felt like it was quite literally boiling. He couldn’t see, only endure the sensation of his skin bubbling and liquifying as everything shrieked around him and his ears rang and he couldn’t feel anything except for that and—

Nothing.

He woke up later to the muffled voices of Shouyou, Tobio, Sugawara, and Tsukishima.

“That almost killed him,” Suga protested. “If he can’t handle this, how will he possibly handle the cure extraction?”

“Subject 8 will handle any experimentation. Now that the substance is in its bloodstream, it’ll be fine. It makes its DNA more…malleable, per se. We just had to sedate it before it could have a heart attack.”

“Can we stop with the ‘it’ bullcrap?! You’re pissing me off,” Suga hissed. Shouyou slammed a fist on the table.

“You wanna think of it as a person?? Then sympathy and empathy come along and you lose sight of what’s truly important: the cure. Stop being selfish and remember that this isn’t fucking about you. This is for all of us.”

There was a bout of silence.

“Wake it up,” Shouyou demanded suddenly.

“Well, the only way to do that would be—“

“Shock it, I don’t care,” the ginger scoffed. “I need to run diagnostics.”

Dread filled his veins quickly and he snapped his eyes open and scrambled back against the wall quickly, his breaths coming fast.

“Oh, it’s unnecessary. Hello, Bokuto.”

He didn’t respond at first, looking up at the ginger with wide eyes. A look of fake pity.

“Disoriented, huh? Well, you did almost go into cardiac arrest. Don’t worry. It’ll be a lot simpler now.”

He couldn’t manage more than a nod.

He hoped Keiji would save him soon. 

—

Subject 8 was uncooperative lately. Maybe he should up the severity of the punishments. He sat in on experiments again, around three weeks in.

The same rugrat who’d always seemed to feel a bit more guilt than the others was arguing with Tsukishima today.

“It’s not right! And you know that! That’s why you can’t even look at him!”

Oh. He couldn’t have that. He couldn’t have his rugrats questioning the very very carefully curated idea he’d presented. This was for all of them. He couldn’t afford to have it ruined. Not when this was their saving grace.

“Subject 8 is vital to our ending the apocalypse. Continue with the procedure.”

“This is genetic manipulation! Not even, this is essentially a species change we’re talking about—“

“This isn’t my fucking choice,” Tsukishima snapped. “This is by orders of the Captain, and this…this is for all of us. I’m not a monster, I—“

Tsukishima couldn’t waver. He had to stop this now.

“Of course not,” he chimed from the door, walking in with a smile. His voice was soothing, though it had an edge. “What, is someone doubting my judgment?”

He kept his tone playful. Tsukishima cleared his throat.

“The rugrat.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“He’s been showing sympathy for Subject 8 for the past 3 weeks.”

“Well,” he said with a small chuckle. “We can’t have that, can we?”

He straightened up.

“Tobio, go get everyone else. I think we’ll have a meeting on the roof. All the rugrats, all the members. Everyone.”

His boyfriend stood, nodding, and then left. He couldn’t help his smile. The rugrat was looking up at him, his hands shaking a little.

“What’s your name?”

“I, uhm…”

“Your name. What is it?”

“Apollo.”

“Alrighty, Apollo, come with me.”

The boy opened his mouth to say something, probably to protest and try to save himself, but Shouyou wasn’t in the mood to hear it.

“Quietly, please.”

And his mouth snapped shut. And so they all met on the roof. Shouyou stood on the edge with the boy. Subject 8 was there too, in the front. Good. It should see this.

“Sorry to pull all of you from your daily tasks, but I figured this is something everyone should see. After all, we’re supposed to lead by example, right?”

The rugrat was trying very hard not to cry. He could feel it.

He wouldn’t have to do this if everyone just listened. He’d liked Bokuto. He’d really really admired him. He still did. But he needed to do this to save everyone, including Bokuto.

Suga and the others looked away as Shouyou continued speaking.

“We all know that anyone who sympathizes with Subject 8 is to face punishment, correct? We can’t exactly have liabilities for Project Savior. This, after all, is for all of us! It’s to end the apocalypse! You want to live, don’t you? Don’t want to keep losing people to the apocalypse, right? This is our key!”

He turned to the boy, Apollo, who was looking at the ground and trembling.

“This is Apollo. He is a Subject 8 sympathizer and a risk to our work on Project Savior as well as to our very safety. After all, he could tell the others that we have Subject 8, and if that happens…well, we’ll probably all be killed.”

That sent a stir through the crowd.

“And so, this is what happens, to those who put our very lives at risk.”

He moved so he was standing behind the boy, who was facing the edge of the roof, and then grabbed him by the shoulder. His free hand took the gun out of its holster, and aimed.

Take out his legs so he can’t walk.

BANG! BANG!

The boy screamed immediately, and Shouyou had to keep him standing with the grip on his shoulder.

He was, what, thirteen?

Don’t think about that.

He’s a risk.

He deserves this.

And then take out his shoulders so he can’t crawl.

BANG! BANG!

He drowned out the sounds around him so he didn’t have to think about it. He then aimed for the fourth vertebrae.

Pull the trigger and then dispose of the body. That was all he had to do.

BANG!

He dropped it off the roof, then turned back to those gathered.

“Just remember. This cure isn’t just for Messenger. It’s for all of us.”

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[commanderhorncleaver]

Trying to read up on as much Gaius lore as I can. Gaius having been a Gladium ks really interesting especially since he ends up becoming the Pact Commander later! In terms of interaction, Leo was never a Gladium, but he was a mere foot soldier nearly his whole life and he was always looked upon them more favorably than he should, just another streak added to his already existing empathy for things hes told he shouldnt feel that way for re: Ascalonian Ghosts. And often found himself conversing/spending speaking with them more then his own warband or ranked charr, as long as they were friendly enough to accept it. So! How would Gaius react if he was approached by Leo just for conversation? Especially if he had already known about the rumors of Leo being a bit of an outcast for being "Too soft" (Refusing to kill to gain ranking, especially if he can avoid it in missions, being too merciful) and spending more time with ghosts than charr? Since he grew up in the black citadel despite being Blood!🤔

(Oop realized this was a bit long, but im down for any sort of interaction even if its conflict! Im also adding a soft invite if this is too long and you would rather head to dms thats totally okay too! I love talking ocs, Gaius seems so cool from what Ive learned abt him) 🫡

FIRST OF ALL, I DO NOT MIND RUNNING LONG-- however this response is gonna run long too, and if you do wanna message on dms I'm more than fine.

I think it largely depends on when in the timeline of the game Gaius would learn about Leo, for the question of how he might respond to being addressed, and the like? Because Gaius has a very funny habit of attempting to "adopt" younger soldiers to "help get them on the right track"-- and where Gaius was indeed a gladium, he didn't much respect any gladium who wasn't actively trying to get back into active duty. He had this interestingly conflicting thing where even AS a gladium himself, he spent as much time as possible sleeping with ranked soldiers so he didn't have to be in the gladium's canton.

Gaius is/was very big on the idea of doing whatever it is one can to contribute as much as possible to their legion: he himself is not particularly capable in most Iron-typical subjects, but he's a great strategist, and takes his job so seriously it kind of works out because he's sort of allowed to do what he wants insofar as... he didn't have a warband for a long time and was mostly just overseeing engineer bands: with mostly paperwork and drills, he was allowed to be a justicier of sorts, doling out punishment for gladium and awols. He was proud of this.

SO the big thing to consider I think is like. How much is Leo willing to put up with some almost 50 year old trying to figure out a lesson plan in "being a better asset to my legion?"

Despite how insanely unflattering this description is, I don't think Gaius would actually find what Leo's up to as hugely disgraceful. I don't think he'd have ADVICE, but this is somebody trying to solve one of the Big Problems Iron (and the Legions at large) are dealing with: the ghosts. He might struggle to understand the point Leo's coming from, with empathy, but this is something more than worth the investment of attention. To note, Gaius circa Ghosts of Ascalon did not personally advocate for the Ebonhawke Treaty, he was adamantly "fuck the humans," however he did A) understand exactly the circumstances and issues as the charr are in the middle of a war on three fronts, and B) he will support his Imperator first and foremost--again, at this time.

FOR THE SAKE OF NOT RAMBLING ON FOREVER, I THINK IT'S A VERY INTERESTING CONCEPT, THE TWO OF THEM TALKING, AND BEFORE I CLOSE OFF, I DO WANT YOU TO KNOW: Gaius' daughter (born after IBS) has the exact same mission: I imagine her revenant magic allows her to literally channel the ghosts of the dead, including those of Ascalonians, giving them their memories and such for an extended period of time. Currently (as in when they first discover this ability of hers) they do not have an idea on how to refine or how she can make this permanent.

[instantinternetcrush]

i hate that i’m still, at least partially, yours. that i’m still talking about this, so here’s me trying to get the last of it out.

you’re the first person in a damn long time to make me feel even sort of human. like i wasn’t some kind of fucked up monster with attachment issues and half a god complex.

you actually and legitimately saw me. the whole person i never really let anyone else ever get to know. that hit because id been all but begging for him to see me for 2.5 years. i spend a day with you and you’ve already got me wrapped around your finger.

it’d be really, really easy to brush it off, like “oh yeah we just got along well cause our brains are the same type of broken.” something something empathy issues. and honestly, it wouldn’t be fully untrue.

i’m a liar at my core. a fraud who has somehow escaped having imposter syndrome despite a calculated facade of humanity. you saw through me and liked what you saw. i was honest with you because it never seemed worth it to do anything else. you did the same. we sat at the park and pinky swore. it meant the same to you as it did to me and you said as much.

we talked about everything. from dumb gossip to the intricacies of family politics. every decision i had to make we talked through together. as a team.

what sucks is that it wasn’t even a real relationship or anything. we never bothered with a label beyond friends. mostly because we couldn’t, i think. i remember a drunk conversation where you told me you fantasized about running away together, quote- often. it wasn’t a breakup, we got caught fucking around and found out. got cocky the first time when we mutually told the same lie to our friends and loved ones and got away with it.

i think about all the dumb romance. taking pictures of each other, sneaking off to go sit behind his car and make out when no one was looking. petty squabbles over who would pay for dinner. buying each other random, “hey i saw this and thought of you,” gifts.

i was never happier than when we’d have dumb conversations on my bed about shitty horror movies. playing pokémon on their floor and being automatic teammates in any and all situations. falling asleep together and waking up suffocated by the heat in that room. our dumb bits, the fact that you loved my shitty humor.

i keep wondering if you’re anywhere near as torn apart by this as i am. i think maybe- you still text me even though that’s borderline suicidal behavior in your current situation. i don’t think im allowed to reach out to you, so i don’t. communication feels disjointed now, i know that’s on me. i’m sorry for that, but the way.

my mind keeps going back to watching the sunset on the beach. we sat in the sand building half a sand castle and we talked about happiness. i remember you looked at me, and told me that you were truly happy in that moment. i remember smiling at you, and saying i was too. we talked about what that meant. happiness. and came to the conclusion that that was very dangerous, and we should probably stop before shit gets weird. we didn’t. we didn’t even try.

you called my house home that night, and i reacted poorly. i’m sorry for that, too. the wounds were still too fresh and we weren’t sitting on the beach anymore. in the car you told me you thought i fell in love with my friends, and i said something pretentious about the grecian types of love. it sparked a conversation with the other people there, which i was grateful for. when we got home, i had left my lights on. we watched a few movies, played a couple pokemon games and i turned off the lights.

it was always in the dark we were the most intimate. staring at the ceiling and talking about love. i think it was safer that way.

you’re still it for me. when i tell people stories they’re always about us. i still miss you more than i’ve missed anything on this earth. i still hope you’ll come back someday. maybe in 600 years- that was always our backup plan. if not in this lifetime, maybe the next. you pressed your forehead to mine and held my hand, told me we were twin flames.

i laughed then, but i think you know better than i do. if we’re speaking spiritually, the stars told us this would happen. we talked it over and came to the same conclusion. unlucky this time, better luck next time.

[descendantofthesparrow]

Days in the sun - Walter Deville x Reader - P3

Taking inspo from chap 5 and 10 of Walter de Ville's Advocate! Yall can see exactly where I took inspo/ref from too XDXD

=

She glanced this way, I thought I saw And when we touched, she didn't shudder at my paw No, it can't be, I'll just ignore But then she's never looked at me that way before

-

I got up early the next day, getting most of my paperwork out of the way so I could spend time with (y/n), and Evie…I really had no damn clue how I would pull anything off now. Considering the doubts I now had about the wedding. With (y/n) back, I didn’t need the families anymore, and I didn’t want to put the person who had brought back my (y/n) into such peril.

It had taken me a minute to figure out, but with the return of (y/n), it felt like I had come back to life. When she was gone-I was nothing but an emotionless shell of who I used to be. Moving along with the days and not caring for who I hurt. (y/n) was my soul, my humanity-with her return, came back my guilt, my remorse, my empathy.

I couldn't curse Evie to this, she didn’t say yes to this-to any of this. She didn’t even know about what I was, or what her family was involved in. we were all tricking her and I felt horrid. I had to figure out a way to stop the wedding without setting anyone off. If anything-I could just say she said no-but that wouldn’t bode over well, Viktoria was power hungry-and while I could tell she didn’t like Evie(or (y/n)) she would do anything to regain our full might-even if it meant forcing Evie to say yes.

I sighed, dropping my pen and rubbing my face-the dawning sun breaking across the horizon. I had always been an early riser, but today I wanted to be up before the sun rose-just to make sure I had the day clear of work. “What the fuck am I going to do?” I whispered to myself, feeling frustration bubbling at my chest and teeth-I’m pretty sure the only damn person-or vampire-that wouldn’t react badly to me not wanting to marry Evie would be Lucy-she was an extremely understanding and empathetic person-and she held that quality into her immortality. Though she didn’t hold it while feeding-she was just as bloodthirsty as Viktoria was, and I used to be.

“You seem frustrated my dear.” I peeked between my fingers at the new voice-seeing both Viktoria and Lucy making their way toward me to join me on the patio. I just hummed, brushing my hands through my hair and letting my bangs fall into my eyes-feeling Viktoria’s hand thread into my hair and brush them back again-she preferred the slick back style(which always made me look older than the age I had stopped at). Turning my attention to Lucy-who had been the one to speak up-I shrugged, leaning forward out of Viktoria’s grip and leaning my elbows on the table-something which Viktoria crunched her nose at.

She was always one for proper etiquette-but I really didn’t give a fuck. “I suppose I am,” I muttered, looking down at my paper work-not paying attention as one of the maids of the manor came up and gave the three of us mimosas-all three lightly dyed red from the blood mixed into them. I took mine gingerly, holding back a grimace at the taste-now that (y/n) was back, all blood to me was stale-I only wanted hers, I only wanted her.

“Why?” Lucy asked, my two brides sitting down with me at the patio table, sipping at their mimosas. I just shrugged again; it wasn’t something I could tell lucy with Viktoria around. So instead I just told her ‘wedding stuff’ to which she nodded. “Understandable, it’s been over 100 years since the last wedding, normal to have some nerves or frustration,” Lucy hummed, and I smiled a bit-there it was, that empathy that drew me to her originally. Viktoria just huffed, swirling her glass. “Especially since the new bride has no clue about all this-tell me dearest,” Viktoria hummed, her dark eyes burning a hole in my head “What is the plan? Seduce her into saying yes? And what of the friend? Will she be Evelyn's first meal?”

I had to hold back from baring my fangs at the mere thought of (y/n) just being a meal. The only being that would ever taste her blood would be me. “I haven't figured out that last bit yet,” I muttered, telling a semi-truth. Viktoria just hummed, eyes drifting back to Lucy. Fuck what was I going to do with (y/n)? If she didn’t remember, of course I couldn’t just-force her to stay! But with her alive I couldn’t just-marry Evie with any good conscience -fuck I couldn’t stay married to Lucy or Viktoria with any good conscience either.

 But I had no idea how to end it all, the contract was forged in blood-curated by a witch near 500 years ago. I had no magical prowess of my own but…but if (y/n) remembered, she might be able to void that contract. I sighed, rubbing my face as I closed my paperwork folder, I would finish it later. I was happy to have (y/n) back, but damn did it just-make things so complicated.

I looked up to see Viktoria eyeing the balcony where (y/n)’s room connected, her claws edging out from her fingertips. “One scratch on her and you’ll be locked to the bottom of the lake till spring thaws the ice.” I hissed out, surprising both Viktoria and Lucy at the pure danger in my voice, along with such a punishment. But gods be damned if I let (y/n) be hurt under my protection again. “We don’t want any suspicions from either of them-so play nice.” Viktoria just huffed, accepting my quick cover-up from my sudden threat, and finished her mimosa, setting the glass delicately on the table and leaning forward in her chair.

“Who is she?” Viktoria hummed, her eyes icy and dark as she rested her chin on her hands, Lucy peeked at me from behind her glass-clearly also curious about (y/n). “I’ve noticed you’re quite…protective of her.” Viktoria hummed, carefully choosing her words to describe the way I acted towards (y/n). She clearly hadn't learned from the previous night when I had told her (y/n) was no concern of hers. I just blinked at her, taking my mimosa and finishing it off, barely tasting it as it went down my throat.

“Now, I didn’t ask you such questions when you had that little fling with Mira, did I not?” I hummed, carefully warning Viktoria to back off. Her eyes narrowed at the mention of Mira-a maid she had taken a shine to back in the 1600s. “So, you should give me the same courtesy and give me the same privacy.” I finished with a slight bow of my head, giving a half grin to my eldest wife-who just continued to glare at me. “So the master has taken a shine to a commoner? How cute.” Viktoria muttered, standing abruptly and walking off, jutting her head to order Lucy to follow.

Lucy waited a few moments to tell me she thought (y/n) seemed nice, to which I couldn’t help but smile. I watched her walk off after Viktora and sighed-feeling bad for my bubbly bride-Viktoria held such a grip on her-If it came down to it-I wasn’t sure where Lucy’s loyalties would lie-even if her vows demanded they be with me.

I sighed, sitting back in my chair and rubbing my nose.

I needed a fucking drink.

And a nice breakfast with (y/n).

-

I took it upon myself to make breakfast-knowing exactly how (y/n) liked her meals, and while French toast had certainly changed over the centuries-I was certain she would still like how I made them. I tasted the mixture before adding eggs and nodded, perfect. I carefully dipped the thick sliced Brioche and set it on the griddle, slicing up some strawberries as I waited for it to cook. When I flipped the slice I started on some eggs, making sure they were cooked and seasoned exactly the way (y/n) liked them.

“Now where are those hashbrowns,” I muttered to myself, looking into my fridge, I had pre-grated them a few hours back just so I didn’t have to rush them while I made everything else. I found them exactly where I had put them, right behind the bacon pack. I placed the finished slices into the warmed oven along with the eggs, oiled the griddle, and started on the hashbrowns. Again-made very differently compared to back then-but who didn’t like fried potatoes?

Viktoria. My mind supplied and I couldn’t help but chuckle. She would be furiously jealous if she saw me doing this for some ‘random commoner’ instead of her. But she didn’t even like human food-she had grown an intense dislike for anything human-other than human blood. Besides-I was making enough for me, (y/n), and Evie-just in case she joined us but-I had a strong feeling Evie would be sleeping in.

When the hashbrowns were finished, I plated the food and called Mrs. Swift to help me transfer everything to the patio, she seemed surprised to see my kitchen in such a state-she knew I liked to cook sometimes-but not to this degree-nor had I ever cooked for anyone but my wives or myself.

I got a few pastries that I knew (y/n) liked, and a few I thought Evie would like, and made sure everything was perfect. I took a few steps back from the decorated table and nodded to myself. “Perfect,” I whispered, turning on my heel and ruffling my hair as I made my way back inside and up to (y/n)’s room, asking for Mrs. Swift to attempt to wake up Evie.

I knocked on her door gently, chuckling as I heard her groan awake and shuffle over to her door-looking so adorably sleepy as she opened it and looked up at me-rubbing her eyes as she pouted slightly. “Good morning,” I whispered, grinning as she muttered it back quietly. “there’s breakfast on the patio, French toast with strawberries?” There it was-she was wide awake at the mention of French toast. Her eyes nearly sparkled and I once again had to hold myself back from smothering her with my affection.

Fuck why was she so damn cute.

“French toast?” she croaked, and oh my heart-my heart, I was going to melt from her-oh my gods. I just nodded instead of taking her cheeks and kissing her silly. “yes, and strawberries.” And with that-the door was shut in my face-I couldn’t help but laugh, tears in my eyes as I heard (y/n) rush to get dressed-though I wouldn't have cared if she stayed in her Pjs.

When the door opened again, all (y/n) said was; “French toast,” and I laughed again, tucking her hand into my arm and leading her outside, opening the door for her and letting her go first. She took a deep breath as she stepped out, a smile on her face as she took in the food I had made for her. “Yum~” she sang, and I was smiling so much my cheeks began to hurt. Though it turned into a pout when (y/n) sat down before I could get her chair for her.

I sat down across from her, noticing (y/n)’s eyes glancing between the seat between us and me, Evie’s plate of food still sitting under its cover. “Who’s that for?” (y/n) asked, decorating her food as she liked. I nodded back towards the manor, my cheek in my palm as I watched (y/n) begin to eat. “Evie, but I think she’s suffering from intense jetlag.” I joked, grinning as (y/n) snorted, nodding as she did. And almost as soon as I finished saying that-Mrs. Swift arrived, without Evie-looking a bit nervous. And it was understandable, Evie-who was my bride to be-would not be joining me for breakfast-denying my time with her. I should’ve been at least frustrated at it.

But I really couldn’t care, I had my (y/n). “My apologies for interrupting Lord Deville, but Ms. Evie is a bit…stubborn, to wake up, I’m afraid she won’t be joining you.” I just nodded, handing some strawberries to (y/n) as she looked around for them, grinning as she scooped some out onto her plate, dancing in her seat as she tossed a piece into her mouth.  “That’s just fine,” I said to Mrs. Swift with a wave of my hand, smiling softly at my beloved as she ate the food I had made for her “let her have her rest, I have the perfect company already.” Mrs. Swift glanced between me and (y/n), confused at my attitude towards (y/n), but didn’t question it, bowing out and returning to her duties.

I looked back at (y/n), watching her with soft eyes as she continued to eat, my eyes drawn to her lips as she liked them free of syrup. She looked up at me, pointing her fork at my food and tilting her head. “Aren’t you gonna eat?” she asked, jolting me out of my thoughts-most of which were….not safe for work-as one might say. I cleared my throat-looking down at my food-which I hadn’t taken the cover off of yet.

“oh-uh, yeah.” I chuckled, taking the cover off and setting it aside, grabbing some butter and syrup and decorating it as I liked, pausing for a moment before I took a bite-it had been quite a bit since I last ate human food-I had only recently regained such a love for it actually.

About 10 years ago really.

Which reminded me-I needed to ask (y/n) about her last 10 years, what had happened? Where had she gone after waking up under the Wych tree? Why had she been homeless? I needed to know what had happened to her.

“So,” I started as casually as I could, setting down my fork and leaning back in my chair, holding my hand in front of my mouth as I spoke-It was rude to speak with your mouth full after all. “What have you been doing the last ten years? I know you said you were homeless for most of it but-“ I made a gesture and puffed my cheeks, something (y/n) giggled at, a warmth filling my chest at the sound, god how I had missed that sound. I felt my cheeks flush as she smiled at me, tilting her head just so. “--along that?” I asked, leaning forward in my chair as (y/n) fiddled with her necklace, humming as she thought back through the last 10 years.

She looked towards the gardens-her eyes catching onto the flowers I had planted myself, her favorites. “Well uh, for the first year, I just-kinda wandered.” She muttered, furrowing her brows a bit as she recalled what she had done. “I didn’t know where I was, or really-who I was. I only had my necklace and my name. This family took me in when they found me-wandering about-and let me stay for a bit, and for about a year I went from hotel to hotel, street to street just looking for anything that could help me remember, but-“ she sighed, and I so desperately wanted to take her in my arms-seeing how much she struggled, not just in life-but within her own mind-she had been all alone-having to learn about the modern world on her own. Without me.

(y/n) continued, her eyes glancing to the side. “Nothing came to me, so I saved up some money, got a ticket, and flew to New York.” New York? Why New York? I must’ve looked confused or something because (y/n) waved off the notion. “Why New York? I have no idea, it was the first place I saw and I decided it would be the best place for me.” She glanced down at her lap, her frown deepening. ““I lived on the streets for two years, I practically starved to death several times-“ I felt my heart crack, the metal of my chair bending under my grip, a tightness in my chest as I imagined my darling all alone, hunger pains I knew all too well racking her body. I knew what nearly starving to death felt like-when my mother died-my father fell into a deep depression, and my sister was hardly old enough to provide us with enough to survive.

The only reason I lived that winter was thanks to my father's closest friend, who had taken the then three of us in and fed us as well as he could.

I shook my head back into the present as (y/n) continued on. “but I was able to save up enough to rent a room for a few months, and then get a job; it didn’t pay much, I had to choose between a roof over my head and food many times but…yeah.” She shrugged, as if her struggles hadn’t been a big deal-as if she hadn’t almost died-as if I hadn’t lost my beloved from something out of my control.

I rested my hand on the table, giving my softest smile that I always knew made her feel better-the same smile I gave her after her mother died from pneumonia when we were 16. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I whispered, tilting my head slightly as (y/n) smiled back, her eyes dilating and she seemed to be out of focus for a moment, her breath catching as something caught her attention.

My brows furrowed as she stared off into space, whispering her name until she shook her head, holding the necklace tight in her grip. “Are you okay?” I asked, biting my lip as she nodded. “You spaced out for a moment there.”

“Yes, yes I’m fine just-another” she waved her hand, glancing away from me as she did “memory, I guess.” My heart skipped a beat and I leaned towards her, nearly begging to know what she had remembered-and if it was a strong memory or not. As she described what it was-I felt a smile grow on my face, it was of us, I remembered it quite dearly-after we got married and enjoying a late morning breakfast in the gardens of her home. She had said something and I couldn’t help but laugh-just, happy to be there with her.

I was taken back to reality when I heard my head gardener call for me, walking up to the patio with his hands behind his back. “The grounds are ready for inspection sir.” I nodded with a hum, finishing off my eggs before getting to my feet-holding out my hand to (y/n) with an inviting smile. “Would you like a tour while I do lord stuff?” (y/n) laughed at my wording and took my hand, letting me lead her off to the gardens-staying silent as the gardener explained what had been done and admiring while I gestured around some of the hedges-requesting a few changes here and there.

We passed by a bush of her favorite flowers, and I saw her eyes were immediately drawn to them. I couldn't help myself. I carefully plucked one from its bush and held it out to (y/n), laughing as she stepped back and shook her head. “I shouldn’t,” she said, holding up her hands in denial. I just smiled and continued to hold it out to her-the gardener excused himself at that point. “you should,” I pushed, feeling a bit cheeky as she shook her head, laughing as she did-she clearly wanted to take it-but didn’t want to just snatch it from my hand.

“I shouldn’t.”

“you should.”

“I shouldn’t!”

“You should.” I pushed one last time, biting the inside of my lip as (y/n) took her flower and held it close to her chest, a small cheeky grin on her lips “I will.” she ended in a hum, smiling up at me. I chuckled, shaking my head as (y/n) and I continued to walk through the gardens again, taking every twisting path there was through the small maze the garden hedges and flowers created.

I took a moment to breathe-just, happy to have her by my side again-even if she didn’t know I was her Harrison-I would wait another 900 years for her to do so. “so,” my attention turned to (y/n) as she began to speak, twirling the flower between her fingers. I hummed, gesturing for her to continue speaking. “Tell me about yourself? What do you do for fun?”

I laughed softly, shaking my head slightly as I kicked a small rock out of the way, raising my shoulders a small bit as I glanced at her with a small smirk. “And here I thought you would ask about Harrison?” I teased, though I really had expected her to ask about ‘my brother’, I didn’t mind her asking about me. Maybe she had already unknowingly made the connection between me and ‘him’.

(y/n) just shrugged, pursing her lips a bit as she looked up at the sky. “Well,” she muttered, looking back at me and tilting her head back and forth. “he was your brother, I just-I dunno-thought it would be a bit…insensitive just to ask about him?” I couldn’t help but smile-hiding it by looking off into the gardens, my eyes catching onto a deer that swiftly ran back into the forest when it felt my eyes. i….really didn’t know how to answer that question, many things I did for fun-I didn’t do anymore.

Because what was the point when she wasn’t there to have fun with me?

But I tried to recall what I did now-adays to pass the time, which-wasn’t much. “I like playing the piano, haven’t done it in a while though.” My voice turned to a matter at the end, rubbing my chin as I felt (y/n)’s eyes on me. “uh-I write sometimes?….damn I don’t do a lot of stuff other than work.”

(y/n) laughed, which sent butterflies through my stomach. I grinned down at her, my eyes drifting down to her free hand. I reached out just slightly, pulling back as she looked at me-her eyes just as wonderful as I remembered-that wonderful kindness still in her eyes. “busy bee ain't ya?” she teased, laughing as I dramatically rolled my eyes, sticking my hands back in my pockets, kicking that same small rock out of my path.

“Yeah,” I muttered, licking under my top lip and huffing “don’t really have time for myself anymore.” I tried to remember the last time I did something for myself-or did something for fun that wasn’t…feeding or some sort of-stuffy party that I really didn’t care about.

(y/n) hummed, reaching up and curling her hand around my elbow-her pinkie catching my exposed arm which sent lightning down my spine again. God I had missed her. I noticed her slowing down, and I came to a stop with her-watching her gaze that drew over to the overgrown path that led to our old home.

The old castle.

I swallowed, feeling my hands shake as (y/n) nodded towards that path, and I could tell she felt a pull towards it-something was telling her to go down that path.

I wasn’t ready for her to do that yet. I wasn’t ready for her to face a barrage of memories that might break her.

“Where does that go?” (y/n) asked and I shrugged, taking my hand out of my pocket and resting it on her shoulder-her hand dropping from my elbow as I started to guide her back towards the manor. “uh-just-just an old forest path; it’s not really used anymore, poison ivy got out of hand.” I explained-which it wasn’t a lie-it was overgrown with poison ivy. (y/n) just hummed, accepting my answer and letting me lead her back into the manor, I turned to her as we stepped into the main hall. “Have you had a tour of the manor yet?”

(y/n) shook her head, leaning into my side as I turned and guided her towards my study. “Well then, let us start in the library, or rather my office.” I unlocked the door and pushed it open, letting her fully step inside before I closed the door behind me. (y/n) let out a low whistle of appreciation as she gazed into my study, trailing her hand along the back of the couch that had just been placed in front of the fireplace-sitting just across from the loveseat.

“Comfy,” she said, her gaze drawn to the animal heads I had decorating the walls-another pastime of mine-one that I only participated in once a year.

She paused at my selection of books-all my personal favorites. I had made sure they were separate from the actual library of the manor-which was much bigger and had many more books. “What are your favorites to read?” she asked, and I hummed, stepping beside her and trailing my hands across the many books that sat on the shelves-only one on my mind.

It was the one that reminded me of her, and the love we held. There it was. I pulled the old book from its shelf, it was maybe only 50 years old-not even that, but it was one I read over and over nowadays, one of the few things that made me feel like I did back then. I handed the book to (y/n), grinning as she gasped and ran her hands gently over the cover. “The princess bride, I love that one.” She whispered, making my heart flutter-knowing she loved it like I did- she gently opened the book and her jaw dropped at the special mark just under the cover. “is this a first edition?”

I nodded, tucking my hands into my pocket and rocking on my heels slightly, a soft grin on my lips. “Yes, I do have a fondness for original works but-that was one of the first I collected with the intent to use instead of shelving it.” (y/n) hummed, reading through the first few pages before attempting the hand the book back to me-I lifted my hand to stop her, her head tilting adorably at my refusal to put it back. “Keep it, at least until you…leave.”

Right. She had to leave at some point-that’s if she didn’t remember, which while I had hope I could help her regain her memories before the weeks end-I wasn’t sure if I could. And if she didn’t-she would return to New York only knowing me as her long-dead beloved’s brother. I shook those thoughts away, gesturing to the book as she brought it back to her chest with the flower-her eyes sparkling. “I can tell you want to read it.”

(y/n) beamed with a giddy giggle, and that one smile seemed to erase all worry from my mind. I couldn’t help but smile back, my heart fluttering as she looked down at the book with such fondness, fondness I had missed for so many years. “Thank you.” (y/n) said, taking my elbow as I offered it and nodded towards the door. “shall we continue?” I asked as I led her out of my study and continued to show her the manor.

We skipped the kitchen-as it was somewhere she had already seen the day before, the bandage still on her finger. I joked with such a reference and (y/n) snorted, leaning her head on my shoulder as I guided her back towards the grand dining room, where the rehearsal dinner would be taking place. I gestured out at the room, leading her to the set of double glass doors that led out to the back gardens and a small stone patio. “This is the grand dining room, which connects to the balcony and the back gardens; where the cocktail party this Friday, tomorrow, will be held.” (y/n) nodded and hummed as she looked out into the gardens, where now; my servants were setting up for the party tomorrow evening.

(y/n) suddenly took a sharp breath, as if in pain and I quickly looked down at her-holding back from taking her and looking her over for any injuries. But instead of doing so I simply stepped closer to her-looking her over as I asked her what was wrong. (y/n) just cursed under her breath and I realized her sharp breath was not one of pain, but annoyance or frustration. “I didn’t bring any dresses with me that would say-cocktail party.” She muttered, looking out at the gardens again.

My mind was filled with thoughts of (y/n) in a cocktail dress, her leg peeking out of a slim black dress. I swallowed at the thought, mentally filing that thought away for later. “No worries, I’ll handle it.” I said, smiling as (y/n) looked up at me, wondering what I meant. She asked as such and I just smiled wider, slowly walking out of the room as (y/n) pushed for an answer, laughter bubbling in her chest as I walked out of the dining room and towards the conservatory that I had turned into an artist's loft for Evie.

“oh wow,” (y/n) gasped softly, setting down the book and flower, and exploring the room eagerly, her hands running over the pottery wheel. “Eve would have a field day with this room,” she muttered, to which if I was still planning on the whole wedding thing-would have been great news. But now it was just nice to see (y/n) exploring the room. “oh~” she walked up to an easel-a portrait I had been working on resting on the stand. “who’s making this?” (y/n) asked, pointing at the half-finished painting.

“I am” I said, a bit of pride in my voice. Drawing had always been something I was passionate about; I had several sketchbooks tucked away in my study. I stepped towards (y/n), looking at the unfinished portrait of my older sister, Harriet.

My father had never been original with names. Harriet. Harrison.

“you’re very talented” (y/n)’s voice broke through my thoughts and I hummed in thanks, my eyes drifting down to the brushes and paint I had been forced to put down a few days ago, my schedule too busy to pick them back up. “who is she?”

I blinked, not expecting that question-nor was I sure how to answer it. But-I decided to tell the truth “My sister, my older sister.” I muttered, sighing softly. I missed her, she had died about 60 years after I had been turned-and not a day goes by I wished she was still here, to guide me like she always had. “Harriet.”

I blinked, I hadn't said her name-(y/n) did, her eyes almost glazed over as she gazed at Harriet’s portrait, her eyes caught onto the dark curly hair that I had been in the middle of painting. “Harriet, right? That was her name?”(y/n) asked, turning to me, looking overjoyed at remembering my big sister. I couldn’t help but grin with her, nodding.

“yes,” I rasped, feeling a catch in my chest. “yes, that was her name. Harriet.” (y/n) hummed, watching me carefully as I turned to look at the portrait-that while unfinished-still brought those damned feelings to the surface. My chest felt heavy, tingles ran down my arms, my stomach turned with a heaving lurch, and pins stabbed at my lungs.

Grief. A feeling I had never been able to get rid of, not when I outlived my baby sister, not when the pain of losing (y/n) was still so fresh even with her return. I took a breath, one (y/n) noticed but didn’t comment on, gently reaching out and taking my pinkie and ring finger in her index finger, squeezing gently as she did.

Just her touch soothed my heart and I took another breath, smiling down at her as she gazed at the unfinished painting. “Thank you,” I whispered and she hummed, squeezing my fingers again. I coughed lightly, moving forward and around the easel-her fingers still holding mine as her free hand grabbed the book and flower “Shall we move on? There’s plenty more to see.”

(y/n) nodded, her arm flush against mine as I led her back out of the conservatory and into the hall’s, leading her to the other side-where the library and sun room sat. I took her to the library first, laughing as she practically ran into it like a child in a candy store-spinning on her heels as she took in the two-story room, a spiral staircase leading up to the 2nd floor-a set of doors leading to the upstairs hallway for 2ndary access. “oh this is beautiful” (y/n) whispered, running her hand along the wood island that sat in front of the staircase, her eyes flickering about the grand room-catching on the gold harp in the corner-Viktoria’s.

“Oh that’s beautiful,” she gasped in awe, walking over to it and gently running her fingers across the top. “Do you play it?” I shook my head at her innocent question, chuckling as I did. “no, my skill lies with the piano,” I gestured to the piano that lay on the other side of the room-one of several pianos in the estate actually. “That belongs to one of the maids of honor, whom you’ll most likely meet at the cocktail party.” (y/n) hummed turning on her heel and admiring the room once more before I held out my hand again, wanting to hold hers once more. “Come-there’s still lots to show.”

(y/n) skipped over to me and took my hand, our fingers soon laced tightly together as I continued to show her my manor; the sun room, the spa, the lounge, the ballroom(which was unused for now), and lastly(at least for the main floor)-the hall of ancestors.

Where portraits of my family-and hers- were hung around the room. I wondered if It were too soon to show her, but I knew she would be suspicious if I avoided that room-so I was caustic as we stepped inside. “Well, here you go,” I muttered, watching as she walked about the long room-gazing upon the portraits of my family.

She stopped at the portrait of my father, now long dead, and tilted her head at him. “James, right?” she asked, turning to me, a grin on her face-widening when I nodded. “Two points,” I chuckled, pushing off the door and walking over to her, looking up at the face of my father. His icy green eyes stared back, and I quickly looked away, watching as (y/n) trailed her hand upon the red rope that separated the wall from any visitors-just to make a small barrier to prohibit any touching from the portraits-all of them were centuries old now.

“Who is this?” My attention was brought back to reality as (y/n) looked up at a portrait of my mother that sat a few feet away from my fathers. My heart lurched a bit, (y/n) had never met my mother, she had died years before my family moved to Whitby-where I met (y/n). “My mother, Iris.” I supplied, stepping behind (y/n) and smiling softly at my mother's visage; her eyes reflecting my own. “You never met her, died when I was only a few months old. Harriet was three.”

One might ask how I remembered her face so well if she died when I so young, I didn’t. Harriet had taken it upon herself to memorize every detail, and my father's friend had sketched up several pieces for me and Harriet to keep in her memory-which I used to commission her portrait. I really remembered her eyes the most-and her voice-it could be compared to sirens.

(y/n) frowned, turning to me and taking my hand, and I was suddenly aware of the burning sensation in my nose. I sniffed, reaching up with my free hand and pinching my nose for a quick moment. “I’m fine-it was a long time ago,” I whispered, smiling as (y/n)’s fingers curled around my palm, squeezing it lightly.

“As Evie would say,” (y/n) softly muttered, stepping closer and resting her cheek on my shoulder. “the pain of losing someone never really leaves you.” I sighed, licking my lips and squeezing her fingers gently. I knew that all too well, not just of my mother or sisters-but of (y/n), whom I thought I had lost forever until yesterday.

“who-who’s that?” I turned, eyes widening as I looked upon the portraits of the Godkin family-(y/n)’s family. She was staring at a portrait of her mother, her hand slowly leaving mine as she walked towards the opposite side of the room. “oh uh,” I coughed into my fist, quietly pushed away from my mother, and stepped next to (y/n). “the Godkin’s, the family the Deville’s married into and the original heirs to the fortune. Without them, none of this” I gestured around me-meaning the manor and my wealthy life style-but also meaning my immortal life-as their daughter had been the very reason I still stood here. “would be here.”

(y/n) hummed, her eyes drawing to her father's portrait before she took a step back, smiling up at me. “these are all beautiful” she muttered, taking another good look at each portrait before taking my hand again “is there anything else you wish to show me?” I hummed, squeezing her fingers as I began to lead her back out to the main hall, leading her up the stairs.

Most of the 2nd floor were guest rooms and the family suites, but there were a few rooms of interest; such as the game room, the smoking room, and the music room, filled with various instruments that I hadn't learned to play. Other than the piano-but then I really didn’t play it much nowadays. We had passed up the upstairs lounge since that’s where the Alexanders were having their reunion.

“you must be so bored every day.” (y/n) teased, leaning on the rails with me as I rolled my eyes fondly. “I mean-there’s like, nothing to do~!” I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head as (y/n) giggled away, still holding the book and flower in her hands.

“yeah, thankfully I do have lord of the manor stuff to keep me entertained.” I hummed, giving (y/n) a soft grin as she continued to laugh, then her smile turned curious, glancing back at the music room before turning back to me. “You said you play the piano, right?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. I nodded, leaning off the rails and shoving my hands in my pockets, smiling as (y/n) shrugged towards the music room. “Do you think you could show me?”

I nodded with a grin, leading her back into the room and taking a seat at the piano that was at least a century old now. “It’s beautiful,” (y/n) whispered as she ran her fingers against the top edge, looking back at me as I began to play, starting with some warm-ups since I really hadn't played in a while.

“I haven’t played in a while so forgive me if I hit the wrong key,” I said with an almost nervous chuckle, hoping she liked how I played…and if she would remember what I planned to play. It had been such a dear song to her-one her mother sang before her unfortunate death. (y/n) just shook her head, giving me a soft smile as she rested her elbows on the edge of the piano. “You aren’t performing for a judge, just play what you like,” I nodded, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves and pressing my fingers to those ivory keys, the familiar melody I had worked hard to perfect floating through the room.

(y/n) stopped breathing, and I glanced up at her as her eyes filled with tears, her hand drawing up to her necklace. “I know this,” she whispered, I just hummed-pretending I hadn't heard her as I continued to play. She remembered this-her mother's song. I held back a watery smile as (y/n) began to sing, those familiar lyrics I hadn't heard from her in so long.

I remembered she used to sing it to me while I worked, or was sick; her soft voice soothing the aches in my body as I let myself be tucked away in her arms. I felt tears in my eyes as she continued to sing, her voice something I never thought I would hear ever again. “call up your men, dilly dilly, set them to work. some to the plough, dilly dilly, some to the fork. Some to make hay, dilly dilly, some to cut corn. While you and I, dilly dilly, keep ourselves warm.”

Her voice was as soft and beautiful as I remembered it, like cresting snow on a fresh winter's eve, like mourning doves on a summer morning, like soft windchimes on a windy day. Oh how I had missed her, I had missed her so much.

As she softly sang the last verse, I joined in, my voice a bit rough from underuse-I wasn’t much of a singer, (y/n) had always said I had a good voice, but I didn’t like singing all that much-I preferred to hear (y/n) sing. “Lavenders green, dilly dilly, lavenders blue, you must love me, dilly dilly, for I love you.” I swallowed harshly as I pulled away from the keys, looking up to see (y/n) in tears, the necklace clutched tightly in her hand.

I stood, stepping around the piano and getting close to her. “You remember that?” I asked, my hands hovering over her shoulders, wanting to hug her so all her pain would disappear. “It-it was my mother’s song,” she whispered, fiddling with the gem of the necklace “and-I sang it to him when we were kids-and when he would be stuck in his study…I’m sorry, fuck I’m such a mess.” Tears streamed down her cheeks and I quickly opened my arms, inviting her for a hug-to which she easily tipped into my arms and sobbed into my chest. I held her close-rubbing the back of her head with my thumb as I squeezed her gently. “it’s okay, I-I don’t really understand but it must be intense to remember things you never even thought you had. I’m-I’m just glad they seem to be good memories.” I muttered, smiling softly as (y/n) nodded against my shoulder, sniffing as she cuddled into me.

I held her for a bit longer, pushing my cheek against her head-closing my eyes as I let myself fall into the belief that I held her as my own-as my darling (y/n), and not as the girl who hardly knew her place in my life-as if she wasn’t my entire universe. “Can-can you play another?” (y/n) asked after a few quiet moments and I nodded, pulling back and cupping her face to make sure she was okay. I gently wiped a tear from her chin and sat back down at the piano, playing a piece she wouldn't know since I didn’t want to overwhelm her.

As she relaxed my mind wandered. What would be too much? What would be too little? What was the line in the sand for her memories? Something as simple as a hand gesture from me had brought something back, yet the visage of her parents hadn't.

Maybe the portraits had been too much for her brain-and it protected her from remembering too much in such a short time. And yet she remembered my father and older sister, one of which was an unfinished portrait. I was thrown from my thoughts as I realized one of the keys was soundless, I continued to press it as I stood-examining the wires that connected to each key.

“The one you’re trying to play is missing,” (y/n) muttered, pointing out the missing wire-the one Emmaline had used to decapitate herself not so long ago. I cursed under my breath; I was sure that would’ve been replaced by now-the rail she had used as an anchor had yet to be repaired as well. It had been over 50 years now, practically 100 since her death-and yet my staff had yet to repair or replace things so easily replaceable.

I sucked at my teeth, forcing away my frustration as I locked eyes with (y/n), standing and giving her an apologetic smile. “Apologies, it seems I won’t be able to play my full performance,” I gave her a mock bow, smiling as she laughed, shaking her head as I stood to my full height. “That’s fine, thank you for playing.” She said as she made her way towards the door, I followed her; bowing my head again.

“Of course, it was my pleasure.” My head felt light as she smiled at me over her shoulder, holding the book and flower close to her chest as I closed the door behind me, hands in my pockets as I followed her lead down the hall. “Well, that would conclude our tour, minus the family suites and my bedroom, but I think that would be a bit inappropriate.” She laughed and nodded, agreeing with the notion that-yeah it would be weird to show her rooms that other people were staying in.

“Yeah, pushing on privacy, I’ve already seen Evie’s room through,” (y/n) mumbled, our eyes flickering to the clock as it rang. It was exactly 12pm. Damn-time had gone by so quickly, but wasn’t that always the case when you were having fun? “Wow it’s already noon?” (y/n) muttered to herself, looking up at me as I took the small of her back, pushing her towards the upstairs lounge.

“I believe it’s time for lunch, come, let us join the Alexader’s.” (y/n) nodded, leaning into me as I led the way to the lounge, pushing open the door and letting (y/n) inside first, smiling as she bee-lined it to Evie; who looked just as happy to see (y/n) as she did. “(y/n)!” Evie cheered, holding out her arms for a hug-to which (y/n) happily indulged in, stealing Evie’s glass and taking a sip before Evie stole it back.

“How was your tour?” Evie whispered to (y/n) in a knowingly teasing voice, and it made me wonder how much Evie know, how much she had figured out. She couldn’t know I was Harrison-but she clearly had the inkling of my true feelings for (y/n). (y/n) just huffed gently at Evie, leaning her head on Evie’s shoulder as Alfred spoke up-and the way he spoke made me want to claw out his other eye.

“so this must be the infamous (y/n)? I’ve heard you’ve kept the lord company for the last few hours.” he hummed, his only eye directly on (y/n), his voice suggesting that (y/n) was nothing but a woman to satisfy me, like she was a common whore. All the other Alexander were staring at her as well, and not in curiosity, but animosity. They didn’t like her-and I had a feeling why. They didn’t like I wasn’t paying attention to Evie, the woman who had been brought here for the contract-and yet I look to a girl who none of them recognized girl none of them knew had a very strong connection to me.

I held back a snarl-my eyes on Alfred. I could feel how uncomfortable (y/n) was, the feeling creeping up my neck and making me want to bear my fangs and claws, to tuck her away in my arms and destroy what had shamed her. “i-I suppose?” (y/n) muttered out, nearly hiding her face in Evie’s neck, Evie curling her arm protectively around (y/n) and glaring back at them-clearly feeling the same energy I was. “he-he invited me to breakfast, then he gave me a tour, it’s-it’s more like he kept me company.”

Fuck this. I wasn’t going to just stand here and let them leer at her. It was lunch anyway-and I did have one planned out for us, one that included Evie-since I would have to make some sort of effort with her to not arouse suspicion. “Evie,” I said suddenly, shocking everyone out of their stupor, Evie and (y/n) looked at me, (y/n) nearly looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Like hell.

“would you like to join me for lunch?” I asked her, hoping she would easily get the hint as I glanced between (y/n) and the Alexander family. she nodded, easily catching my hastily thrown idea and gently grabbing (y/n)’s hand to lead her to lunch “I would love to,” Evie said, passing by me and nodding as I told her where it was, and that (y/n) knew the way.

(y/n) glanced back at me and the room, her shoulders rising as she caught Oliver’s eye, who glared back at her full of near hate. Oh well, I just couldn’t have that? Could I? I checked no maids were in the room before turning back on the family, letting my eyes flash and my fangs show. A low warning growl settled in my chest-one not too far from my true forms growl-but that one could shake a castle, this one was low and snarling-a stalking sensation almost. “I will say this once, and only once. Disrespect Ms. (y/n) again and I will destroy all that you have. If you even think about her in such a way, I will know. So mark my words. Respect her or face my wrath.”

I reveled in the fear I felt from all of them, the unexpected whirl around I had on them. They clearly did not sense the same fondness Evie had felt from me for (y/n), they clearly had decided their brains were to be left at home if they treated my darling (y/n) in such a way.

If I were a crueler man, I would’ve killed one of them-just to make a point, or take Alfred’s other eye. But (y/n) had always been a good influence on me, and it was fortunate for the Alexader’s that she still was. It was unfortunate for them that Oliver decided to speak. “But-but who is she, my lord? What does she have that Evie doesn’t?” his mouth snapped shut as I turned to glare directly at him, feeling a heat begin to boil in my chest. “And-and who is Harrison? I-we weren’t aware you had a brother?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, foolish fucking mortals. I couldn’t blame Evie for talking about my supposed brother(one that never existed), but for Oliver to gain the courage-nay-the stupidity to bring it up as laughable.

I just turned on my heel, leaving the family with one final warning and no explanation. “As I said, disrespect (y/n), and you will all fall.” I practically slammed the door behind me-straightening my hair and making my way out to the patio.

They were damn lucky I preferred spending time with (y/n) than making sure they knew their place.

-end of p3-

yeeeee p3 babes, this one was a long one~ and has way more content than the (y/n) pov from p4 XD p4 of ouad was about 11 pages, this ones 26 XD

taglist~!

@sessediz @reallystressedhoneybee @reallysparklychaos @taetae123094

[burinazar]

what motivates you artistically? :3

well right now blelaf mainly. no ok hang on. alright. so.

when i was really young i had this feeling like if we could all just understand one another, if there was a perfect way to beam your thoughts and feelings into someone's head, it would fix almost everything re conflicts and human suffering. (naive obviously but this was what i thought lol.) when i started to be aware of what it was to read good books and look at good art it felt like in some ways the closest we could come to fully articulating an idea, a moment, a feeling, and placing it in its entirety into someone's mind. relatedly, uh, bad stories/art that didn't seem to respect their audience pissed me off at the squandered opportunity (sorry the snobbery came out sorry) and made me think, dammit, the audience and types of people evoked within this deserve better and i'm gonna try. with the combo of these two things it was like ..okay i'm going to start writing and drawing.��it was all about stories ideas concepts. oh and also i really liked rodents and wanted to draw them as often as possible lol. i drew so fucking many rodents. gah. these concepts were no joke deeply linked for me because as a child i genuinely felt like the bad rap rodents get from people unthinkingly condemning them via stereotypes was a symptom of a societal lack of empathy and consideration. (possibly terry pratchett's fault)

(could not locate early rat art at this moment but here's relevant scribbling. i was nine i think.)

 tl;dr plunging themes and concepts i find interesting; communicating them to other people. (sometimes the concept is admittedly not highbrow. sometimes it is very silly. sometimes it is 'hey ! it would be hot if this happened to b*laf'.) it can be hard to reconcile the desire to 'communicate' via art/writing with some of my work just not having much of an audience or even feeling like i don't want to share it for various reasons lol, but in those cases i frame it to myself as, the effort of presenting the idea was enjoyable in and of itself, an act of personal communication between me and the subject or content of the work even if the thing itself will never be shown to another soul : v anyway fanwork can be a neat way to do that because it's like shared muses or canvases where what you see in them or love about them is already partially pre-communicated to people and you can hit the ground running on evoking emotions, concepts and narratives using the shared frame of reference, as well as skewing and transforming said frame as needed. btw i found another drawing of me and the sages that i didnt use in the other post so here it is

there have been many periods of my life when i was making more original work, though. (i'm sure i've said this many times now but before the sages i had a very comparable attachment to a couple of my OCs.) i also had a pretty terrible experience with fandom around middle school that sort of drove me away from heavily engaging for a long time; i was still in fandoms but basically never shared my writing outside of like PMs and servers. that's part of why my current abyss bullshit is so precious to me and also why i can get protective over it; it pretty much singlehandedly brought me back to the Blessings and Curses of being directly engaged in sharing a lot of fan content publicly. (man for a person who doesnt like bondrewd i do quote him a lot unfortunately.)

so anyway. yes. uhh sorry that was really long. i sort of just like blogging haha thank you very much for the ask! < 3