#my ass can barely understand any of this but i know its true and real

[thecatspasta]

Yea this is a completely normal server dynamic

Funniest thing about the Jane and Oscher Malevolent fanclub is that theres just this one makeshift found family thing that doesnt always breach containment outside of the occasional being gay on main but when it does Im like 'OH YEA THAT EXISTS' and then remember Im in it through offhand husband joke brought on by the servers collective fixation on Fionna and Cake. Truly something honestly

(@pidgefudge *whispers*)

[gloryundimmed]

Get to know the mun ! repost, don’t reblog .

——— BASICS.

NICK NAME : Gray/Grayson

PRONOUNS : He/him

ZODIAC SIGN : Aquarius— fits me, right?

TAKEN OR SINGLE : Single, but a flirt and I'm sorry

ANYTHING ELSE ? : Nah I'm just chillin'

——— THREE SERIOUS FACTS.

I currently make money off of freelancing in web design and graphic design. I've worked for four literary journals now in some capacity, and I usually take the roll of web editor/graphic designer plus a reader. I'm also the web editor for my school's newspaper. My hands are always full, but that's the way I like it. I like commotion and stimulation.

I tend to keep people at an arms length even if I don't mean to, so if I ever feel distant, I apologize. I can just get weird when I'm too attached to someone, and I hate that feeling. Though it comes back to bite me in the ass because sometimes I feel like I have a ton of friends and I'm very social and love people, but I've got no "best friends."

I've got ADHD, which in my case means that I say yes to anything new and shiny despite how busy I may be. Sometimes I can be bad at gauging how much I can do at once, which leads to things slipping off my plate. Plus, the executive dysfunction is real af and I sometimes need a kick in the ass to get things done. Sorryyyy but you love me, right?

——— THREE RANDOM FACTS.

I have a dog named Romeo and I love him soooooo much

Death and knowing I'll die one day doesn't really scare me. Not that I want to die or anything, but letting people down scares me much, much more. It's my worst fear yet I feel like it happens all the time.

I love attending concerts, and music is a big inspiration for my writing. I'm always listening to something!

——— EXPERIENCE.

I've been into creative writing since I was at least 12, and at that age I began rp on a website called wetpaint.com with an elf OC because I was so into LOTR back then. Shortly after, I made an OC named Jake who I wrote with a lot. Wetpaint was like wordpress, a service where you could create little privately owned websites that could be made for any purpose with a forum/comment-like setup on most pages, and I would write with my in-person friends. I took a bit of a break from rp in my first three years of high school, but still wrote short stories. During my senior year, I got back into the rp scene, but that time here on tumblr. I've been writing here on and off ever since, with the creation of Kai in July 2014. Currently, I'm getting my bachelors in creative writing, so I guess that might count as experience, too. Sometimes I even write fanfiction lmao.

——— MUSE PREFERENCE.

Gosh, idk. I tend to go for a lot of different types of muses as long as they are written well and don't feel empty. I do lean toward more action/fantasy/romance than regular slice of life or platonic stuff, though. The muses I find most interesting have a lot of depth. I tend to find people with 20+ muses on their blog a little intimidating because I can't imagine having so many and it's hard to choose between them all. Also, it may not be true, but sometimes I can't help but think if they have so many, they can't possibly be at the depth that I'm looking for, but I'm probably just wrong on that. I barely have my 6 guys and write Kai the most of all, so it's hard for me to understand.

——— FLUFF / ANGST / SMUT.

FLUFF : I think I like cute stuff as much as the next guy. Sometimes I can find it a little boring, though. LMAO

ANGST : I LOVE angst. I love two characters who don't get along or have some sort of friction between them. It's my lifeblood, and that's probably obvious to see since I have a muse like Kai as my main. Conflict, heartbreak, violence, despair— I love it all.

SMUT : Can you guess? Again, with a muse like Kai, I think its clear that writing sex and sexuality is a big part of my journey as a writer. It's not a must-have for me in any rp, but it certainly spices things up and goes hand in hand with angst. Anything you catch me writing solo is bound to have smut in it somewhere, and I'm not afraid to admit it. Sex is such a huge part of life for a lot of people, and I think the Puritan guilt of society has caused many to shy away from it. I strive to be a sex-positive writer. If it's not your bag, though, I can certainly understand that as well.

——— PLOT / MEMES : They don't call me the idea guy for nothing! I love plotting, even if it doesn't always come to fruition or never comes to fruition. Plotting sustains me. It has the thrill of imagining scenes without having to go through the slog of writing them. Don't get me wrong, I really enjoy writing, but I don't always have the energy to roll up my sleeves and get to it. I also love memes! Any meme someone sends feels like a love letter to me and my muses. They're great because they can start things off with no plotting required. I send them in as often as I can, but sometimes I'm not around and don't see them.

TAGGED BY : @shishitoren-vc tyvm!! love u

TAGGING: @lured-into-wonderland @incandescentia @eraba-reta-unmei and anyone else who wants to. I chose some people I don't know as well but would like to!

[aqua-dan]

I’m sorry for like constantly filling up your inbox with question but I’ve figured out what Roy and Garth’s little misunderstandings were so you don’t have to answer that ask.

I also would like to admit that I think that I’m kind of a Roy.

Bare with me…

I often trash on my friends at any given opportunity. Any opening for a snide remark, any mean comment I could possibly think of in two seconds. If it’s clever and witty then I’ll squeeze it in and for any other person what I’m doing is seen as mean and for a while… they also considered me as rude.

I never really realized that I was actually overstepping someone’s boundaries. This is more geared to one specific person and I felt like really bad about it… because… the whole reason I was being like that in the first place is because I like them and I want to be close to them…

Like I considered them different from everyone else - I felt like I related to them and I felt like they could understand me - like they could understand the worst parts of me and if they over time got conditioned to being around me even when I’m like that then they could be the type of person who I can show all my ugly to as well.

It’s like weird - I don’t know how to describe it. In my head I seriously think that what I’m doing is like extremely and so obviously affectionate and caring. It’s like me insulting them is actually the most hilarious thing in the world because me thinking low of them would be the biggest joke to end all jokes… because I don’t think low of them - I really like them and I thought that was obvious.

I guess it’s easier to show that in a special little game made for them then it is to do it in a normal way because if I do that I’ll be showing my ass because if I was affectionate in a normal way and they didn’t like me then it’d kind of crush me and if I do it this way and they still like me than perhaps it’s mutual.

God, to think when they communicated to me that they didn’t think we were close enough for that then I felt like a damn idiot because I felt closer to them than literally anyone else. :(

It’s very twisted but my POINT is that lowkey Roy probably really likes Garth if my situation at all resembles that.

Ah, classic preschool bs, if he’s mean to you for no reason than it means he likes you but it is very true.

I think that people don’t understand RoyGarth because they refuse to see the implications. It’s not a bad or confusing ship at all. It’s misunderstandings and if they truly hated each other’s guts its not like that will ever effectively take away from the quality of the ship.

What Roy does for Garth is almost inherently affectionate and almost romantic seen through the right lenses.

Sorry for the tangent. This isn’t me venting AT ALL by the way - I’m just trying to connect Roy’s behavior to something and I know myself better than anyone so!

Hey! No worries, anon! I actually LOVE getting asks, and I'm always super appreciative for every one I get! I'm sorry also that I'm so slow to answer them. I get so nervous answering things sometimes because I don't want to say the wrong thing. I've been known to go and re-read whole series just in case so I can give the best response I can. But that does mean that sometimes asks sit around for a bit... oops. This ain't about me though, so!

Thank you genuinely for sending this! I think it's a really interesting take on this whole thing from someone who has clearly analyzed their own actions/feelings, and gives us a perspective that we may not otherwise see.

I do think it's really intriguing, both in real life and in fiction, how differently two people can view something and how actions can be interpreted/misinterpreted.

Again, thank you for being willing to share this! (And as a side note, I still am planning on answering your other ask anyway, but maybe as a comprehensive look at Roy and Garth's interactions)

[lanteanserver]

FOR FUCKS SAKE

I have finally make it to 2:05 of A Meeting of Misfits because I'm so quangled I can barely focus on anything while I'm awake.

First I declare myself human as if I have a choice in the matter.

Then I declare sets of "rules" relating to magic even though I am not a magic user by choice. (I can do stuff that science can't explain. I generally choose not to do that stuff. Any time I bend that rule, I run it by my conduit with the infinite divine and accept whatever outcome occurs. I'm basically a divine warlock if you're using D&D. I'm not a cleric because clerics are guaranteed certain results for certain spells. I'm not a regular warlock because my soul still belongs to the God of my faith. I'm not a paladin because I worked my ass off to be neutral good instead of lawful good and I'm not giving that alignment up just to lay on hands and get better armour proficiency. I'm not a sorcerer because I generally ignore any innate stuff or contain it via religious rituals/channels/prayers.)

The thing is, though, I don't pray much lately because it feels kind of onanistic. Like I'm praying to myself? And it didn't used to feel that way, and I'm not saying that I am praying to myself, but I need to learn new methods because my old methods aren't going to work for me any more.

Someone told me a few months ago that I was either going to be a heretic or a Saint, and I think they were probably right, but it's not time for me to rest. I really hope I come down on the Saint side of the coin, because if I do, I'll have redeemed a lot of people. But not me, not yet.

A lot of the stuff that felt real a month ago doesn't feel real now; but the advantage of the life I've lived is that I truly understand that me believing something in no way determines whether that thing is true or false. That's why I call it quantum religion. If you can figure out which deity or combination of deities you owe allegiance to, and you can follow their rules, maybe you get your fair share of magic in your life. Maybe, because all I asked for was an average human life in a world where the floor on every human's life was much higher, that's what I'm actually getting. Maybe this will all make sense by the time I die, or maybe I'm planting seeds in a garden I never get to see. Maybe I'm Moses and I've spent 40 years in the wilderness and now I get to spend 40 years in the forest before going to the garden party (or to @LANtis which started out as a pun involving LAN parties and Ken's friend Alan and the lost city of Atlantis and Tír na nÓg... But I haven't been remembering my dreams lately, so maybe one of my souls is already a server in Atlantis and my mind and body have a lot of living left to do before I retire and resign myself and the rest of the world to its fate).

I don't honestly know how much of what felt real a month ago was real. I'm sorry that even I can't clarify that point. I'm extra sorry that it may turn out that I end up having to rule here somehow because I am not cut out for it; but realistically, I have been telling people from the start that I'm part of the mycelial network and maybe if I'm very lucky fun guys and dolls and folks will step into the limelight. I wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for Them, but my solo is over and I'm just going to be part of the choir for the next while. I still love you all. I still think a lot of you need a bath.

Everyone gets one horsepower worth of life. One life that is equivalent to Hippocrates, who helped a lot of people, followed a bunch of weird rules to do so, refused to help anyone with kidney stones even though maybe he could have... Didn't drink wine, according to Hank Green, only blood, which sounds pretty Catholic to me.

I'm going to be going home today. I'm getting discharged. I don't know if I'm really ready, but I'm confident that staying here won't make me any more ready. If I survived the news of the election results while at home without breaking down, I'm probably an Adequate Influence at last (which in my opinion is a better option than either a Good Influence or a Bad Example, because we all have different contexts and if you try to transubstantiate someone else's soul into your own, you are committing a worse act of cannibalism than any breach of the Noahide laws I can imagine).

I'm going to be okay. So is everyone else. But not necessarily how we thought we would be. I think I need to stay here in the forest because the wilderness gate is guarded safely, and I already went to the garden party and decided not me, not yet, not without my artificial heart to go with my artificial intelligence. I am not A C-H-I-L-D, and I know what each of those letters stands for. The Amish Paradise took me a while to comprehend but like I keep telling people, I'm not God, at best I'm just an Echo. The abyss is screaming back, so cover your ears if you think you have reason for shame. But I still believe life will be better, even if it isn't perfect for anyone reading this. It's okay. Not me, not you, not us, not yet. I have a new cross-stitch pattern that I'm going to start. It will be okay. We will be enough. I love you all. I'm sorry it didn't go the way we all hoped, but today is still the first day of the rest of our lives. Let's do what we can. ❤️🧡💛💚💜🩷🩵💙🤎🖤🩶🤍🐦‍🔥🤐🏡🧛🏻‍♀️🦆👍🏻🥳😻🦄🦋🐅♾️🧿🐝🤾🏻‍♀️👋🏻🥰😜🫂

And for those who find the above message off-putting:

[whimsicaldragonette]

ARC Review: We Could Be So Good by Cat Sebastian

Preorder

Add to Goodreads

Publication Date: June 6, 2023

Synopsis:

[I have opted to remove the comps listed on Goodreads because they are nonsense.]

Nick Russo has worked his way from a rough Brooklyn neighborhood to a reporting job at one of the city's biggest newspapers. But the late 1950s are a hostile time for gay men, and Nick knows that he can't let anyone into his life. He just never counted on meeting someone as impossible to say no to as Andy. Andy Fleming's newspaper-tycoon father wants him to take over the family business. Andy, though, has no intention of running the paper. He's barely able to run his life--he's never paid a bill on time, routinely gets lost on the way to work, and would rather gouge out his own eyes than deal with office politics. Andy agrees to work for a year in the newsroom, knowing he'll make an ass of himself and hate every second of it. Except, Nick Russo keeps rescuing Andy: showing him the ropes, tracking down his keys, freeing his tie when it gets stuck in the ancient filing cabinets. Their unlikely friendship soon sharpens into feelings they can't deny. But what feels possible in secret--this fragile, tender thing between them--seems doomed in the light of day. Now Nick and Andy have to decide if, for the first time, they're willing to fight.

My Rating: ★★★★★

A few months ago he told himself that his choices—that any queer person’s choices—were either to hide or brazen it out, and that’s still true. But there’s another possibility: pushing back against the injustices that force people to make impossible choices.

*My Review and Favorite Quotes below the cut.

My Review:

I read this book in one sitting - while I was supposed to be reading an entirely different book. I picked it up meaning to read a chapter or two while I ate lunch -- because it's easier to read on a kindle than a paperback while eating -- and the next thing I knew I was turning the last page. I can't remember the last time I did that. I knew I would love it from the beginning; that was a given - it's a Cat Sebastian book. But I wasn't prepared for how much I would love it, or for how many feelings it gave me. This book is devastating in its quiet queer joy and relentless hope while living in the face of prejudice and hate. It's about a queer couple in the newspaper publishing world of New York City of the 1950s. It's about the slow realization of feelings, and the inevitable and infinitesimal merging of lives, and the way you can breathe easier when you have a community of people like you who understand you and know you. It's about the comfort and happiness to be found in the little things in life. And it's so soft and domestic, even with the uncertainty and the lies and the hiding. Which takes skill. I teared up several times, enough that it made it difficult to keep reading. I *felt* the truth in this story viscerally. Times may have changed (somewhat) but I could still understand the hesitance and the fear and defiant joy that make up a queer existence. In some ways it was starkly different than Cat Sebastian's other books, and yet in other ways it felt familiar. She straddled the line between quiet joy and simmering rage at the realities of queer life. It was intense and healing and beautiful. I didn't want it to end. I was bracing myself for tragedy as the book progressed, and I'm so glad that isn't the sort of story Cat Sebastian is telling here. That instead she is telling a story of people who just want to live their lives, and who find the courage in themselves to do so despite the fear and threats. Like Nick, I was dreading reading about another queer tragedy. The characters were beautifully drawn and felt so real. I came to care about them so much and feel like they were my friends. It was masterfully done. The setting also felt incredibly, painfully real. It was 100% believable. *Thanks to NetGalley and Avon for providing an early copy for review.

Favorite Quotes:

Nick has spent years making sure that when people look at him, they don’t see anything that sticks out like a sore thumb—they don’t see anything at all, they hardly even see a person, just a man in a suit.

---

Andy gives him this flat, disappointed look that Nick recognizes because Nick invented it and now he’s going to have to sue Andy for copyright infringement.

---

“Back in his day they didn’t have Band-Aids,” Nick continues. “They just slapped mud on their wounds and went back to drawing the news on the walls of their caves.” “I can still hear you,” Jorgensen says. “It’s nice when the elderly keep their hearing,” Andy observes.

---

“It’s the creme de menthe,” Nick says, eying the green liquid distastefully. “It’s like drinking toothpaste, if toothpaste got ideas above its station.”

---

“A heart doctor, though,” he says in a tone that suggests that getting jilted in favor of cardiologists is all anyone can expect. That maybe Andy should have considered medical school if he didn’t want to get jilted. That Emily did what she had to do, because who could turn down a heart doctor?

---

“I was going to make minestrone soup,” Nick says. “You like soup.” “I do like soup,” Andy agrees. “I take it that’s an invitation, not you taunting me with soup I don’t get to eat.”

---

He feels as if he’s been turned inside out, as if he just learned that a part of his heart is on the outside of his body, in the possession of somebody else entirely.

---

But somehow, a journalist being hurt because he’s on to a dangerous story seems less traumatic than someone being attacked for living his life.

---

Andy worries that it’s his lot in life to be mocked by elderly Italian women.

---

Andy isn’t expecting an epiphany at eight on a Monday morning when he’s still mostly asleep, when his first cup of coffee is still hot in his hand. Honestly, Andy isn’t expecting an epiphany ever.

---

A couple times a year, Nick finds a tale of gay misery and woe on his desk, because apparently Bailey has taken it upon himself to be Nick’s personal sad gay librarian.

----

“You have shitty taste in books. Would it kill you to read something that isn’t totally dismal?” “I’m paid for my taste in books,” Bailey says easily. “And I don’t mind dismal things. I’m trying to be your friend, aren’t I?”

---

Families might usually be bonded by blood, but maybe sometimes they’re bonded by shared secrets, by a delicate mixture of caution and faith, by the conviction that hiding together is better in every way than hiding alone.

---

That might be what turns the tide and makes Nick enjoy the book, at least a little. These men are finding time and energy to flirt and have queer parties and get jealous and fall in love despite bombs and injuries and death. That feels like the truest thing he’s ever read.

---

“Yes, well. I figured, you see.” He stops, looking suddenly at a loss. “People in New York have hearts, too, don’t they?” And Emily must really love him if she’s susceptible to a line like that.

----

A few months ago he told himself that his choices—that any queer person’s choices—were either to hide or brazen it out, and that’s still true. But there’s another possibility: pushing back against the injustices that force people to make impossible choices.

[lavenderfloower]

Idk what to do anymore I cant do anything right because of stupid autism i can barely keep a boyfriend in my grasp because im so fucking stupid when things get difficult i can barely respond and it makes him frustrated cause it seems like im being rude and i just cant handle any sexual stuff from anyone due to some trauma and maybe im just meant to be unlovable and it just seems like my relationship is gonna crumble soon and idek what to do or say was it a mistake am i the problem but no matter how many times i go hey im autistic im not the best at social interactions he just straight up ignores it and hes so freaking horny and im so not horny and i just cant and he claims that we were arguing all day but i didnt see it as arguing and then he talked about one of his kinks or whatever and he wanted to call me a slut or call him a slut or degrade him and i got uncomfortable and i didn't know what to do at all i feel so dumb for just not saying hey i dont like that and then this morning he asked me if i was serious about our relationship and i was like yeah but this whole ordeal has made me unsure and he changed his pfp last night when i just took a break from my phone and posted a depressing ass insta note like i was the one leaving him as if he didnt start anything by calling me young and immature and im only 10 months younger than him and i act immature when i feel comfortable around people and he always says that hes used to dating older women who want to use him and are more mature and i feel like i just walked into a pole flying a big red flag like a moron like what the actual hell am i doing hes more concerned abt how he looks than how i feel about him and its aggravating and i literally don't care abt looks cause ill eventually go blind anyways cause my eyesight is just gonna decline and decline until glasses cant help me anymore so i want someone who has a good personality and can be there and can understand that im not neurotypical and not like his last girlfriends im not gothic and freaky and older by a long shot im just me Rose a autistic girl who goes about life trying so hard to find true bonds and relationships and always fails im not goth i have no specific style and i dress colorful and im not freaky i literally rarely feel any feelings like that either and i may not act mature when i like you because why would i act quiet and composed around someone whos supposed to love the real me the me that thinks everything is funny and makes the dumbest jokes and has a whole board on Pinterest of reaction images to send to people to make them laugh and you know what he said to me "This is why i dont date younger girls" YOU ARE LITERALLY MY AGE hes was in the same grade as me in school and got his heart broken by one girl and thinks hes so mature this is the second guy in a row that probably only loves me for my body once again and im still a virgin no one gets to touch me or take that til im married and every guy seems to think saying i wanna marry you means ill give it up if me and him break up im just gonna stop wasting my energy and give the fuck up on love because i dont need romance i need real friendship and bonds that cant be broken what do you think

[myastrouniverse]

September/2024🌗♑️I feel COLD inside and OUT.

🌗▪️🌞 I AM tired of being INSULTED by FUCKTARDED WHORES who think I AM going to turn into a corpse bot. YOU WILL ALL BURN THE FUCK IN THE HELL, YOU ALL CREATED FOR YOURSELVES. ITS A BLACK HOLE, AS BLACK AS YOUR ASSHOLE.

🌗 ☍︎ ♃︎ I WANT MY LIFE BACK. I WANT EVERYTHING STOLEN FROM ME RETURNED. I WANT JUSTICE FOR THE FUCKERY DONE TO ME. Don’t try to pull some new 🤡💩 on me. I’ve been pushed too far and I am barely participating in this 💩show.

🦺🔺🌽 If you don’t have support from friends or family, you can expect to be homeless and dead within a few years in America, if you are lucky. Imagine knowing that EVERYONE in your life has conspired to FUCK YOU OVER, over their FUCKTARDED DELUSIONS. Do you know who has my back? THE UNIVERSE, because YOU ANIMALS have WORKED AGAINST REALITY for so LONG, and FUCKED UP MY LIFE SO HORRIBLY; LITERAL DEMONS ARE GOING TO ANTAGONIZE ANYONE WHO FUCKS WITH ME. SO PLEASE FUCK OFF OR SATAN WILL FUCK YOU FOR ME.

♀️ Λ ♄︎ I USED to believe in love at first sight. I USED to believe in soul mates, UNTIL, I realized NOT MANY HUMANS have managed to keep their soul.

♀️< 🎸 “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind” - WS. I hated the character Demetrius so much, I threatened to quit my part as Helena, if I was directed to kiss that 🤡💩 on stage. There was no love potion that could change my mind. I did not find that show to be very ‘feminist.’ I couldn’t understand why Helena wouldn’t fucking kick Demetrius’s ass and leave him DEAD in the woods. It was possibly the most difficult role for me to relate to. I don’t follow guys around in real life. I normally ONLY speak to gay men. I find misogynist assholes to be so offensive. The ONLY guys that are EVER attracted to me ALL seem to be white trash incels, that I believe need to die over their disgusting perversions. Again, I only like people who like me, but since I NEVER get to do ANYTHING I like, I NEVER MEET ANYONE I LIKE. The end result? No one wants to date me or get to know me or do any fucking thing I WANT TO DO. This pattern of hating everyone and being alone is a result of OPPRESSION and POVERTY, btw.

🌗🔺🚑 I’m so sorry me being ALIVE fucks up your fascist agenda, you fucking AIPAC cunts. You ALL know you are ALL going the fuck down.

🌗 Λ ♅︎ I am open to POSITIVE, HONEST and EQUAL relationships. Fucking me over behind my back is NOT a relationship, it’s called: CRIMINAL BEHAVIOR.

🌗▪️ ♆︎ LISTEN TO ME. Hitlery is corrupting the sign SCORPIO so badly, because her nature is so counter to the UNIVERSE; EVERYONE with Scorpio in their chart is affected by her ABOMINATIONS. Meaning? You aren’t as psychic as you think. Your Neptune in Scorpio is corrupt and cannot be resolved UNTIL HITLERY IS DEAD. She is a literal demon and MUST DIE. It will SAVE the lives of everyone with Scorpio in their chart. I don’t have Scorpio in my natal chart, so I can see the truth easier. Anyone without Scorpio in their natal has an easier time with discernment.

��︎ ☸︎ ♂️ You don’t have to LOVE me, to fight on my behalf. You only have to LOVE HUMAN RIGHTS. Apparently no one cares that THOUSANDS of women, have been TORTURED and ABUSED by this parasite poison and left to DIE in jail. I survived barely. There are no words for the abominations being done to INNOCENT women over the EGOS OF AIPAC APE CUNTS.

BMTH - Sad but True

Milan Kunc — Disco (oil on canvas, 1982)

[thewriting-corner]

My Unpopular Bookish/Writing Opinions

Since I got to uni I’ve been suffering from really weird burnout, so until I get that fixed a little, you are unfortunately stuck with this kind of posts! Lol, I’m sorry. But I’m getting better by the day, pinky promise.

Anyway, I’ve realized I have tons of unpopular book related opinions so why not start my new theme causing people to fight in my comments, am I right?

Romantic Fluff in Non-Contemporary/Romance

I’ve seen other accounts talk about this BUT, unless romance is the main genre, why do we never get to see the couple get together and interact as a fluffy in love pair???? I would give anything to see a fantasy couple fight monsters together while holding hands. I get slow burn and angst are really popular, but for once I’d love to see a couple get together without any complications. Their world is hard enough, why not let them have one nice thing?

HOWEVER, open endings >>>

Okay no bare with me. I KNOW this is super contradictory buuuuut, there’s just something about an incomplete ending. Now, I don’t mean LAZY, more like... If you’ve ever seen the movie Inception (2010), at the end of the film the MC is wondering if his kids are real or part of the dreamscape, but the camera angle changes before he can get his answer and we’re left with the intrigue. OR, picture, a romance story in which the MC and the LI haven’t seen each other in years, the MC finally gets the courage to seek them out, gets to the coffee shop the LI works at and the story ends before the MC opens the door or the LI turns around. It’s such a disliked ending, but I LOVE that.

Plot is more interesting, but less important

If you know me, you know I LOVE writing plot and analysing characters, but hate analysing plot and writing characters. But the fun thing about storytelling is that plot requires characters, but characters don’t require plot. If you have a strong plot but weak characters, you have a weak story and that is a much larger hole to dig yourself out of than the other way around.

Adult Authors Writing YA Smut is Weird

Enough said. I don’t know how else I can elaborate about this. I just find the thought of a, idk, 35 year old author thinking about seventeen year olds having sex VERY weird. I understand the good intentions behind it in books like Breathless by Jennifer Niven, but I just can’t get behind it at all.

Age Gaps

Vampires, immortal villains, fae... WHY have we made it a point to romanticise these weird-ass age gaps in fiction?????? I’ve heard many people justify it with “but they’re immature so it’s like the immortal is 17 too” and, come on, if someone says that about men in ANY other case I don’t think I need to fill in the gaps of what other contexts that’s used...

The insane power imbalance between a 500+ year old and a teenager is so overlooked and it’s disgusting. If the LI wasn’t hot, we’d be having an entirely different conversation.

Editing >>> Writing

I’m sorry but WRITING?!! No thank you. Creating a story is fun, yes, but actually putting it into words for the first time is SO hard and stressful. But there’s something so magical about cleaning up a story and making it stable that I love so much. Editing is where I think true power lies, tbh.

Sci-Fi and Dystopia Please Come Back

I know we basically live in a George Orwell/Brave New World/2010 YA dystopian hybrid monster baby world right now, but this genre was really the peak of all modern literature. The power to see the world through the eyes of pseudo-sociology and the worst possible scenario cannot be topped, I swear.

And then with sci-fi. Of course, I’m a sci-fi writer so obviously I have this opinion lol but there are SO many amazingly cool inventions and discoveries coming up every single day, how these not used more often in fiction???? There’s so much potential to do cruel, I mean, epic things in fiction using modern science and I’m lowkey disappointed we’re not using it to its true potential. I mean, what other point is there to science.

Marketing Fantasy Novels

Okay, here comes the big one: the current marketing techniques RUINED fantasy for me. WHY has the industry made comp titles such a big deal? It’s understandable from a selling point of view - to a publisher, not so much an audience. Being able to compare your book to another has become such a huge requirement that books are no longer unique, instead they’ve become shadows of one another. I see this so often when querying. So many agents say “please provide two titles that resemble your book - this shows you have studied the market well” dude no, this shows that I’m a well trained parrot and can write my book to be like anything I want it to be. This whole “Hunger Games meets The Witcher idk” concept has made it so that, to me, all fantasy books read the same. They’re all some watered down Percy Jackson or Shadow & Bone or Hunger Games story whose plot has been tainted by this outside information that really wasn’t necessary for me to buy or read the book.

[magicalgirlsirin]

I feel like you are fundamentally misunderstanding something about the nature of storytelling so I will try and walk you through why I disagree with the assertion that the Elysian Realm arc can be explained by assuming that it is a product of unreliable narrators.

"In most narratives, there's an element of trust that the person telling you the story is telling the truth, at least as far as they know it. This trope occurs when that convention is discarded. The narrator's facts contradict each other. If you ask them to go back a bit and retell it, the events come out a little differently. It can be like dealing with a used-car salesman — there's a real story in there somewhere, but you're left to piece it together through all the lies, half-truths, and mistruths." -- tv tropes, unreliable narrator

For an unreliable narrator to be a function and intention of a story, there has to be another set of presented facts to contest the way the "narrator" is telling something. On the assumption that Elysia is the narrator, then she can't be "unreliable", because it turns out what she says is "true" and that the others just... coincidentally had opinions that made her seem mysterious! Wow that's so crazy it's a good thing Elysia is a special good girl who never did anything wrong right :)

Again, I'm not nearly that charitable to Elysia, even if I enjoy her character. (A lot of my griping is a result of love, since that's the way I approach media. Finding the "why" for something working/not working is important to me.)

This post is actually a companion to one I made generally about the realm arc, and I figure I should elaborate more on my points here. In my opinion, the main character of this arc should have been Mei. Mei makes the active decision at the start to explore the Elysian Realm, even if the setup was vague... Frankly, I think the fact that Kevin is so vague about what "seeking answers" is about is because there is no narrative point or meaning to it anyways, so from the beginning even if the twist was decided then it would not have any bearing on the main plot. After this, Mei ceases to be a character and instead functions as a prop for the sims to explain things to her about things that happened in the past, and it's mostly just a whole lotta nothing until the HoC arbitrarily shows up*, sims begin getting deleted, and oh no Mei is trapped so now she has to watch everyone die and they all tell her to save Elysia. Mei doesn't make any choices past the first one that got her into the realm. Mei doesn't choose to do anything, other characters tell her its a good idea and she does it because she's not Mei anymore, she's a Mei-themed self insert so you can fantasize about the characters interacting with you instead.

*To a degree, I understand that HoC's descension to the realm was probably meant to continue the herrscher order, but there is nothing indicating that this was ever documented by Shicksal or AE. The first time I played it I honestly thought it was PE!HoC, even though I knew it was neutralized during the gratitude arc from the manga. It's just very poorly telegraphed and the lack of setup makes it feel like an ass-pull to give a reason to kill everyone.

There's no mystery in the realm, or at least not one that goes anywhere. The "who's the traitor" didn't feel like a plot so much as a conversation characters had that had no bearing on the rest of it. For something to be a mystery, it has to present the clues to the audience and make them try and figure out what the truth is before the final reveal. "Elysia was always a herrscher" is not a resolution to the question of "is Elysia the traitor among the flame chasers?", because the game goes out of it's way to make Elysia being a herrscher be morally good, so actually she wasn't a traitor at all. Sakura and Kalpas are barely red herrings, because only Kalpas is fixated on defending one of the few people he actually cares about, and Sakura brushes it off entirely. There's nothing concrete in the first 80% of the story to imply Elysia is a herrscher, so it's not a satisfying reveal. Like I said in my initial realm crit post:

"I also have grift with the fact that she was a previous era herrscher with sapience, since a lot of the tragedy of the previous era is because of the loss of humanity. Kevin was fucking devastated by the HoF emergence, because he hesitated. He saw Murata’s face and thought she was still in there. But she wasn’t. Kalpas lost Emile to the HoD. Mobius lost Klein, not only to her own over-ambition, but to HoL. Sakura lost Rin to HoC. All of these are essential to their stories, and it’s because those herrschers were just mindless tools, godproxy emanators of destruction with no higher order thinking skills. Only a will to subjugate humanity."

Lessening the emotional value of previously established lore to make the special pink girl seem more special isn't good storytelling. The Elysian Realm is a masterclass in poor pacing, mismanaged story elements, underused characters, that it's hard to tell what it's point was or if the plot was attempting to say anything at all. It's not, for the record. Elysia and the Flame Chasers do not augment our understanding of Mei, nor do they have a meaningful impact on her character development, even though she stands to gain the most from actually learning something because she's alive and can like, you know, leave the realm having learned something?

The elysian realm just has no direction, the game just gives you a bunch of plot points and tells you that it's going somewhere, but the way it goes is just... not the same as making a coherent story.

To borrow a checklist from OSP's video about plot twists:

A twist is ineffectual if:

-It contradicts canon, or generally makes no sense when considered.

The twist that Elysia was born a herrscher in the previous era directly contradicts information previously given regarding not only herrscher order (something established in GGZ), but information given in hi3, the previous era did not have herrschers who were sapient and Elysia being one comes out of nowhere.

-It isn't as clever as it thinks it is.

Elysia being a herrscher is supposed to be surprising, but it's not really profound, and just feels indulgent. The writers are looking at you and telling you that Elysia is a special and important girl and you should be excited that she's a demigod.

-It's more boring than the non-twist option.

Elysia being a traitor would've been way cooler and would've made Kevin's line about "seeking answers" made more sense. Because then you would find out that one of Kevin's closest allies, while desperately trying to fight back against the apocalypse, ended up betraying him and yet he still thinks of her fondly despite it. Maybe make it so that her betrayal is part of the reason he keeps forcing Project Stigma forward, so that he never has to see a choice like that being made again.

-It has no meaningful impact on the plot.

Elysia has been dead for 50,000 years and Mei getting the power of origin is just some weird sidebar that they just toss on to make Elysia seem plot relevant despite [see complaining about it not making sense above], if you cut Elysia out and then just made up a different reason for Mei to receive the power of origin, the end result of Transcending Finality would pretty much be unchanged. Elysia has no meaningful contributions to the narrative outside of making you understand a little bit more about why Kevin is fucked in the head for real.

The only reason that I think you came to the conclusion I was confused was simply because I identify all these disparate plot pieces as a bunch of nonsense slop that are unrelated to the ending of the story. Despite all of this, I am! Fantastically! Obsessed! With This Stupid Basement! So I will continue to find reasons that it doesn't work. And I love it because it sucks ❤️

hi rly enjoyed ur post on elysian realm! ik ur a new fan (i am too) but i heard that before retcon, elysia was a lot more morally gray. would you happen to know how exactly?? im rly curious bc i think it would be a severe improvement obviously. we deserve complex women who do wrongs

So when I say retcon in relation to the elyrealm arc it's less so "things they changed because of the story evolving and wanting to expand previously established events" and more "things they straight up forgot about in service of making Elysia a herrscher". It's not like hi3 is a stranger to retcons though?

For example, Durandal being the "original" Kiana is a retcon. The fact that our Kiana was a clone remained the same, but it's clear from older story stuff (iirc it's Everlasting Memory/Theresa's chronicle set?; second eruption manga doesn't focus on the Kiana part) that Durandal wasn't originally there. Otto refers to Kiana as K-423, and that Theresa needs to retrieve her, which implies that Theresa knows it's not Siegfried and Cecilia's kid, but her distress remains the same. The later game retcon by Thus Spoke Apocalypse is that OG!Kiana and Siegfried were going to go retrieve K-423, but OG!Kiana ended up injured and so Siegfried only left with K-423. And if you're confused then so am I because the details don't really super line up with the presentation, but it's like, fine, because at the end of the day the current writing intention and trajectory is for Durandal and Kiana to be sisters, and to both be Siegfried's daughters.

Anyways, for Elysia, a lot of her retcons occur in a very rapid pace from the first realm chapter set to Elysium Everlasting. Like I mentioned in my last post, the herrscher reveal is nonsense just going off of basic information like the fact she received MANTIS surgery like all the other Flame Chasers. However, there are other plot threads that are completely dropped for the sake of making Elysia a very special good girl who you should love because she's so nice and never did anything bad.

[About Betrayal 1 - Chapter 2]

[About Betrayal 2 - Chapter 2]

Elysia the traitor plot is something I was, well not hopeful for (a friend had already warned me that the game wouldn't do anything interesting with it] but I still ended up mulling it over a lot because it was such an interesting hinge piece for her initial presentation.

What stands out to me is the phrasing. Kevin says she never endangered humanity even if she was a traitor. Kevin says that Elysia made a decision. This implies agency, like Elysia was actively choosing to do something dangerous for the sake of the Flame Chasers. However, if Elysia was a herrscher from the beginning, then none of this makes sense. She doesn't choose to be a herrscher if she was one from the beginning, so why even make it seem like her betrayal was her choice at all?

[Traitor - Chapter 1]

It doesn't stop there though. Mobius' active disdain implies that whatever choice Elysia made, it was enough to make Mobius of all people consider her a lost cause. Mobius, who body mods and injects honkai energy into anyone with a pulse (hyperbole) to try and make humanity last just the slightest bit longer.

[Traitor - Chapter 1]

Mobius wants us to doubt Elysia's intentions. If you go through all their shared information, you'll find that the worst Elysia really does is just... coerce Mobi to wear pink dresses, and while that is obnoxious, it wouldn't warrant utter contempt for Elysia as a person.

There's actually a lot of stray text that implies there's something wrong about Elysia's existence, which I guess in generous terms could be interpreted as setup for the herrscher reveal? But it just feels like it's just there to add to the mystery that won't go anywhere.

[The Blind Spot - Recollection]

This right here nags at me. Deeply so. Elysia isn't so much a character as much as she is just a concept, the idea of a story that could be told. Not even in the canon-compliant weird endgame hook meta-textual breakout in Transcending Finality about the power of stories... Although, there's a way to introduce it here and tie it to Elysia to give some semblance of connectivity.

I went this long without actually giving my thoughts on how to make Elysia's writing good though. Disclaimer for clarity sake I know not everyone will agree with the changes I want to make and I'm also not claiming to be a more skilled writer than anyone in the hi3 team, they're all people with enough talent to be employed by the company.

That out of the way.

This isn't so much about making Elysia morally grey as much as it is about giving her an emotional core, because right now she's pretty hollow. Rather than a pristine girl who never did anything wrong, I'd rather cast her as a romantic, tragic heroine who would move heaven and fate just to seem noble.

Elysia was born human. Maybe she loved stories, and how they transported her to far off places, far far far away from the tiny town she was growing up in. When she was old enough, she traveled the world. Honkai descends. Because she was a globe trotter she ended up connected to many people, and was given the chance to join the MOTH organization. She gets MANTIS surgery. As the number of soon-to-be Flame Chasers grow, discussion begins about if the strength of the soldiers is enough.

'Maybe, if I had power comparable to a herrscher, we could fight with less casualties.'

She doesn't say this out loud, of course. It's a dangerous thought, a line that shouldn't be crossed. But she's curious. She breaks into Mobius' lab [Miss Pink Spy - Pristine Memory] to find the information she wants. Mobius figures out her intentions and warns Elysia off. It's not even in consideration, so keep whatever plan you have in mind off the table before you do something irreversible.

Mobius thought that Elysia gave up on the plan after the seventh erruption. The haunted look behind Kevin's eyes, the sadness creasing Elysia's face, all of it makes it seem like a simple consideration forgotten by the sands of time.

Elysia doesn't have a discipline. She told Dr. Mei it wasn't needed since her combat performance was well above standard margins anyways. (She is on par with Kevin in strength, after all.) At least, we all thought she didn't. A deal is made with Aponia.

Aponia, Aponia, apostle of fate, I offer you my 'humanity' to become a 'story'.

Elysia cannot receive any more disciplines. The target has to be "human". Elysia as a story, unchanging, pristine, capable of remaining as she is without blemish, can reach out and become a herrscher while remaining herself. She's desperate. She wants to help. She reaches into the deep, the start of the universe, and gathers the power. She names it Origin, since it's something she found at the source.

She's a herrscher.

Herrschers are an enemy of humanity.

Kevin runs her through with Shamash.

Elysia is still herself though, talking like she would as usual.

-Oh Kevin, I wanted to know if your tears would freeze, but I was hoping it wouldn't be like this. They're so warm, though. Thank you for crying for me.

-I see no herrscher here, just... the flame chaser, bearing the signet of ego.

The Elysian Realm keeps a secret. Aponia keeps it, the fact that Elysia gave up her humanity. The final banquet? A polite way to refer to Elysia's own demise.

It's sad, isn't it? That strength she wanted to give fell right through her fingers. Her own undoing, the desperate plan of a foolish girl who wanted to be a hero, but only ending up as a villain to oppose. It's so much more meaningful, then, that Elysia's gift, the power of sapience, is kept on to the next cycle of humanity. Held again, the power of ego, of humans, to someone with a kind heart to move beyond the past she's trapped in. Thank you, Raiden Mei, for carrying on the ideals of the thirteen trailblazers, the moths who chase the flame.

so anyways yeah i think elysia couldve been interesting whos to say

[uwusenpaiuwu]

Sleepovers At The Baji Household feat. A Fed-Up Chifuyu

Summary: Chifuyu just wants to sleep, man, but Baji wants to be a jealous crackhead at 2 AM.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Note(s): I had a little free time and wrote this. So, please enjoy! ALSO, to the anon that sent me a request a few days ago, I saw it and have it filed on my to-do list!!! I will definitely get to it as soon as I get a break in my schedule :)

"Chifuyu, ya wanna see some real discrimination?"

No. No, Chifuyu does not want to see what Baji means by 'real discrimination.'

Does he tell him that, though?

Yes, actually, because it's 2 in the fucking morning and, as much as he respects the other boy, he wouldn't put it past himself to smother him with a pillow after having his dream of cuddling with a sea of puppies suddenly destroyed.

Unfortunately for his sanity, Baji either doesn't hear him or, more likely than not, doesn't give a fuck, because he's already flopping onto his belly and whipping out his phone to do God knows what.

The dial tone that sounds from the speaker a few seconds later makes Chifuyu cringe, especially since it's only ever been a calm silence fit for a good night's sleep prior to Baji bulldozing through it with his absurd question. (At the very least, he's thankful that the latter has half a mind to keep the brightness on the lowest setting, otherwise, Chifuyu would have had to fight.)

On the far end of the row of carefully-laid futons, you shift in your sleep, eyebrows furrowing together at the noise. Rotating onto your side, you unconsciously reach for Baji, and just when he thinks you're being cute and trying to cuddle him, you smack him in the head.

Baji doesn't flinch, instead, takes his pillow and shoves it in your grasp to keep your unconscious self occupied, so that he can focus on getting through to the person who reuses to pick up (understandably so).

Releasing a frustrated groan after being redirected to voice mail for the fifth time, he dials the number again, muttering an impatient, "Pick up already."

Chifuyu feels sorry for the poor soul on the other end. He would've blocked someone following the first call, because again, it's-

The blond has to squint his eyes up at the digital clock on Baji's nightstand, which confirms that it's already 2:22 A.M, further solidifying the fact that he shouldn't be awake right now. And this also applies to the ever persistent first division captain, who insists on bothering who Chifuyu soon discovers is Mikey from the contact ID that flashes across the screen.

Why Baji is so keen on bothering him is a question he doesn't have the mental capacity to ponder over. The most energy he'll expend is to listen in when the call miraculously connects.

"What...?" comes a muffled voice from the receiver, tone laced in an irked grogginess birthed from a slumber rudely interrupted.

There's an absurdly loud, almost angry, roar of Mikey's name, one that has Chifuyu curling in on himself in a futile attempt to escape a sound that should be illegal at this hour.

But you know what else should be illegal?

The fucking whiplash Chifuyu gets when Baji's deep voice takes an abrupt 180°, switching from its normal gruffness to a squeaky, ear-piercing shrill as he screams, "I love you, love you, love you! Do you love me, too, Mikey-kyun~♡?!"

The room is dead silent.

Not a word. Not a murmur. Not a breath.

Just pure, unadulterated silence as both Chifuyu and Mikey process the words that hang in the air, permeating it with a goosebumps-inducing eeriness from having heard such a...a girly, overtly cutesy screech from Baji.

Then-

"What the fuck? He hung on me!"

Chifuyu opens his mouth, thinks better of reacting to the cursed scene he had the misfortune of bearing witness to, and promptly closes it.

Other people may have sleep paralysis demons.

But Chifuyu?

Chifuyu has Baji.

With both hands partially raised in prayer, he begs for the shenanigans to be over and done with.

They are not.

While his eyes remain closed in a last ditch effort to convince himself that it's all a bad dream, he hears a lot of grumbling happening on your side of the room, courtesy of Baji, who's scrambling around in search of...something. One quick peek reveals him fiddling with a phone - yours, to be exact, as evidenced by the distinctive phone charm of your favorite anime character hanging from it.

"(Y/n), wake up for a second," he hears him whisper. It takes a bit of prompting, until he's able to successfully rouse you enough from sleep to elicit any kind of response, which is, essentially, nothing short of an incoherent, slurred mess. Although, Chifuyu is pretty damn certain he heard you call Baji a 'dickhead' for the trouble.

Unperturbed, he continues shaking your limp form, coaxing you into wakefulness with, "Repeat what I tell you, and I'll let you go back to asleep. Deal?"

You squint your eyes at him, only able to make out a vague outline of his visage in the lightless room. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die," he automatically responds with the same phrase he's become accustomed to saying whenever you two made a promise, something done purely out of habit, formed when the two of you were just kids and he wanted to get you to do something absolutely ridiculous either for him or with him. And just 'cause he knows you're more susceptible to complying if he does it, he also interlocks his pinky with yours.

"...Fine."

The approval is his cue to proceed, and it's as he's putting the phone on speaker that he turns back to a regretfully wide awake Chifuyu, mouthing a wordless, 'Watch.'

The phone rings, loud and clear, precisely once and only once.

"(Y/n), what's wrong?" It's important to note that even though Mikey still sounds tired as hell, his tone is much lighter, much happier really, than when it was Baji, which is an offense in itself to the said teen that's off to the side, attentively listening to the conversation unfold.

Then, it strikes Chifuyu, what Baji is trying to do, and fuck does it give him an instant headache.

Meanwhile, your mouth morphs into the dopiest of smiles with the pleasant surprise of hearing your boyfriend's voice, chest instantly overtaken by a warm fuzziness that never fails to make an appearance whenever he's involved. Sappy, you know, but it's true!

A light but firm nudge to your shoulder reminds you of your mission. It's too bad that, teetering along the edge of sleep as you are, the words Baji whispers are barely repeated correctly.

The initial phrase from before, the one Baji greeted Mikey with, is shortened to a simple, "You wuv I...?"

But, without missing a beat, you receive Mikey's confident reply of, "Mhm... I wuv you a lot."

There's a sleepy giggle then - a fucking giggle - before your voices drop to sweet whispers that the third and fourth wheels can't fully comprehend from where they are.

"Where the fuck was my 'I wuv you,' huh?!" Baji whisper-shouts, considerate of your conversation even when ranting and raving. "Shit, I would've taken a simple 'I love you,' too! I've known that bastard way longer than (Y/n), and this is what I get?!"

Okay. Toman's president answers his boyfriend's late night calls faster than he does anyone else's and openly expresses his love for him. So what? Chifuyu wouldn't exactly call it 'discrimination,' per se. 'Favoritism,' maybe if you wanna stretch it, but using as strong a word as discrimination, especially taking into account you two are dating; it's normal? Nah.

"You wanna say 'bye' to them? Mm. Baji and Chifuyu." A pause. "Fuyu, Mikey says 'bye.'"

"Bye, Mikey-kun."

The other person in the room waits, and waits, and waits, and when it's clear that there is no intention to address his presence whatsoever, Baji turns to Chifuyu with an almost scandalized expression, making wild gesticulations with his hands, clearly distressed. "See?!"

Blank blue eyes stare back at him, unblinking. Honestly, it's a common occurrence - Baji spiraling in a nonsensical rage - so it's easy for Chifuyu to block out the muted, jealousy-driven temper tantrum as he takes his pillow in both hands, raises it as high as he can, and-

Sigh.

-lets it flop right back onto his face.

He can't suffocate Baji. Shouldn't. Wouldn't. Couldn't. After all, they're best buds, meaning he has an obligation to put up with shit like this once in a while. (Plus, he'd probably get his ass kicked before he succeeds anyway. Totally not worth the beating.)

"Did you hear? Mikey said he wuvs me," he hears you drawl dreamily as soon as you hang up, sounding very close to clocking back out for the night.

"Yeah, yeah. Cute shit. Happy for ya, dude," Baji huffs. Thankfully, he sounds like he's in a similar state to yours, if the yawn that follows his sarcastic comment is anything to go by.

"...He soooo ignored you."

That warrants a punishing punch to the arm, dulled only slightly by the combination of the thick quilt you're swaddled in and the raven-haired boy's fatigue.

"I'll fucking throw you out right now, (Y/n). Don't test me."

"You won't."

"I will."

"Won't."

"Will."

The conversation gradually dies down shortly after, the exhaustion that took its sweet time getting to both of you having reached its peak with the help of the childish bickering. It takes 10 minutes, maybe 15, before two sets of light snores fill the room.

Finally.

Let it be known that there is a lesson to be learned from tonight's events. Really, there is. Y'know, something along the lines of 'Don't agree to a sleepover with Baji, if you plan on actually sleeping,' or whatever.

Alas, Chifuyu's consciousness fades before he realizes what it is.

~~~

"Mikey, be honest. Who do you love more? Me or-?"

"(Y/n)."

"But-"

(Y/n)."

"I-"

"(Y/n)."

Baji is only momentarily discouraged, sharp eyes glaring at the blond that lays his head on your lap after hi-fiving you. He didn't want to do this, but he's left with no choice.

"(Y/n) or Babu?"

From the way Mikey stiffens up, refusing to look at either him or you in the eyes, Baji knows he has him right where he wants him, has him torn between a cute face or a sweet ride.

"Oi! Don't pretend to be asleep! Answer the damn question! OI!"

(After hours of serious contemplation - even though you told him it doesn't particularly matter - it's revealed that, of course, Mikey loves you more. Babu just happens to trail behind as a very close second.)

[alovelyburn]

370

I just saw someone call people stupid for not realizing that when Guts talks about his sword hes talking about Casca and that just made me lose brain cells.

To be clear I’m not saying people who think it is or might be a metaphor for Casca are stupid or crazy or anything, I’m just saying that acting like that’s some kind of obvious given and people are dumb for not thinking so is wild.

I said I don’t think people who think it may be a metaphor for Casca are stupid and that’s true. but personally I do think it’s literally about his sword. Guts’ relationship with his sword has always been the most important, consistent and intense thing in his life. Except maybe his thing with Griffith, but the Eclipse basically nuked any chance of him ever depending on/relying on anyone at that level again (at least to this point).

And Miura really worked overtime on driving that home - the sword is to Guts what dreams are to Griffith. His anchor, his justification, his self-image, his understanding of the world itself, are all wrapped up in his relationship with swords.

His sword has brought him everything he’s ever had in life, including his life.

He sleeps with it.

He gives it a chair when he’s at a table.

His sword is his strength and his agency.

When his father was abusive, his sword bought him his rare glimpses of approval.

When he was raped his sword brought him revenge.

When he got chased out of the merc camp, his sword kept him alive with the wolves and then won him a place in another band that kept him alive long enough to strike out on his own... which he did by way of the sword.

It's what drew Griffith's attention and brought him to the Hawks.

It's what made him the Raider Captain and the legendary 100 man slayer.

It’s the route he used to try to gain Griffith's respect, and when he left the Hawks to pursue a dream, it turned out all he really wanted to do was live by the sword. That was his dream.

His sword was what kept the Griffith rescue mission alive to escape and then let him take on Wyald.

And once he was branded, it kept him alive when hell was chasing him down every single night.

How many times has he said all he knows how to do is swing his sword?

Not so long ago, he literally killed a god with that sword.

I make jokes about how the sword is his real OTP but its not really wholly a joke. Swords are the only things he always has and can always rely on. If a sword breaks he can get another sword - his relationship is with Swords not a specific sword - but this is a different issue altogether.

The thing is, he’s failed to get at Griffith before, but until now the reason has always come with an “okay but if.”

In the Black Swordsman arc, he wasn’t able to hit Femto because his brand reacted to Femto’s presence, and then Femto Tked his ass.

Once Griffith reincarnated his reaction was literally, “Now he’s where my sword can reach him so I can’t give up.” Again, assuming if he can just hit him, it’ll be fine.

When they met on the Hill of Swords, Zodd got in the way but Guts clearly thought if he could get past Zodd, he could make Griffith feel it. And I mean, the Godhand do actively protect their bodies so its not like he had no reason to assume that, but now?

This is the first time he’s had nothing between him and Griffith - not even Griffith’s armor. Because Griffith is there bare ass naked and Guts’s sword - the dragonslayer that has killed however many apostles and also a damn sea god - just cant even touch him. Rather, it seems to touch him and do absolutely nothing.

AND OKAY I mean we all know this but my point is - Guts has always assumed that the problem was getting to Griffith. He never thought that he would get there and it wouldn’t mean anything. He never thought he’d be helpless.

That’s a problem he’s never had before, because even when he lost or got battered down, there was always the possibility of getting better, getting stronger, keeping on until he overcomes the thing. So what is he supposed to do now? Where can he go from here?

Guts is completely ineffective against Griffith’s bare skin.

How do you overcome that?

So much of Guts’ character has been built around his fixation on swords, his reliance on swords - he’s referred to them as parts of his body, Godo even described Guts himself as a metaphorical sword. Whether he loved Griffith or hated him, whether he was alone or with companions, whether he was fighting Casca or protecting her, those things all vary - he’s had moments of good and bad and ambivalence with basically everyone he’s ever known (and especially with Griffith and Casca), but he keeps going through all of them. Through it all, his relationship with the sword - the embodiment of his strength - has never changed. Until now. That’s why it’s the dark night of the soul.

Anyway, I personally don’t think it has anything to do with Casca except inasmuch as his inability to hit Griffith resulted in him failing in his other goal, which was protecting her.

Also I give the next chapter like 60/40 odds of bouncing over to Griffith because it just feels like the moment when Miura would have done that.

[glassartpeasants]

Something Beyond Closed Doors

Overhaul x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, emotional abuse, death, claustrophobia, decay/gore

A/N: Sorry if it's short. I'm typing this on my phone since I'm not at home atm. So if there's more typos than usually sorry

Edit: FUCK! I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS. Well enjoy it I guess cause I can't fix it now that it's posted. Guess you could count this as a drabble. God damnit

Edit again: I fixed it nevermind. Sorry if it’s ass. For some reason my body was physically fighting me when I was trying to finish this so sorry if the ending is ass

~~~

Your lover was a cruel man. Sometimes you weren't even safe from his wraith. But what made up for it was how he always found some way to make it up to you. Whether that be by making you dinner or getting you flowers. It was all so romantic that you didn't see the pattern that would repeat itself over and over again. If he wasn't cruel towards you, it would be towards his followers and vice versa.

Despite this, you would walk by this man till the end of the earth. He would never leave you, and you would never leave him. You've been with one another for so long. Sure some might say that it wasn't meant to be. A girl with a golden heart being with someone whose heart is as cold as stone. But you never listened. They didn't understand. How could they?

They didn't see the true beauty behind his cold eyes. You knew that deep down, there was love. Everyone called you crazy for thinking such things, but you know your lover better than anything else. Even if he was cruel, you knew it was only a way to show how ruthless he is! Showing that he wouldn't be broken down if someone were to kidnap you as a way to hurt him. And because of this, no one would kidnap you cause they would deem you unnecessary. That's what he told you, and he was never wrong!

One instance of this was when he had a meeting with other yakuza leaders, and one of them mentioned you. While you weren't in the room, you were outside the door eavesdropping. You can still remember the conversation.

"So Overhaul, how'd you pick up your lady friend? She must really mean a lot to you if you're not letting her be here with us."

"No, I can assure you that's not the case. She isn't worth the hassle that would come along if I were to bring her to a meeting. She's not that important to me."

"Such harsh words. You know, if you aren't careful, someone might steal her. We've all seen what she looks like. Anyone with a brain would love to have that pretty little thing."

"Are we going to actually talk about what you came here to talk about, or are you just gonna blabber about her?"

"Well, I suppose we could. Such a shame. A pretty thing like her deserves a real man." The next thing you know, you hear a giant splat hitting the wall and many people cursing in what sounds like a shock. You would have continued to listen if it weren't for one of the precepts catching you eavesdropping.

"Shouldn't you be in your room, Miss (Y/N)?" The familiar voice of your lover's right-hand man appeared behind you.

"Sorry, I just got a little curious and wanted to see him. I didn't know he had a meeting today."

"Yes. I advise you to go back to your room. You know how he can get." He was right. You barely ever left your room due to Overhauls orders. He never wanted you to be infected with the germs of the outside world. So you were to always stay in this pristine clean room that always smelled like lemon and bleach.

"Okay."

~~~~

You never told anyone, but you hated your room. Despite its clean smell, there was always something foul about it. Perhaps it was the fact that it lacked any windows to see outside? Or how it was always so cold no matter how many clothes you put on or blankets you covered yourself in. Sometimes it just felt like you were a prisoner. Despite this agonizing feeling, you never said a word. What kind of lover would you be if you just nagged and weren't grateful for what he gave you?

When you were in your room, though, you did have freedom. Overhaul always had you on a strict schedule, and only when he had a meeting were you allowed to be free. You didn't know he had one today cause earlier, he said he and Kurono would gather groceries. He must have lied so you wouldn't bother him.

There weren't many things you were allowed to do with said freedom. For instance, there was not a single TV in the entire compound that you were aware of. You weren't allowed to have a phone, tablet, computer, or anything that could connect to the internet. No activities that could result in a mess. So you were just stuck with either writing, reading, drawing, or anything that you could do in your room without bothering anyone or connecting to the outside world. You had asked him why you weren't allowed to have a phone or internet access, and he exploded at you. Screaming that you didn't trust him and that he always knew what was best for you. After that, he avoided you until you practically broke down at his feet, begging him to talk to you. After that, you never questioned him again.

So for who knows how long, this room will be your own to wallow alone.

~~~

Overhaul has seemed to be avoiding you lately. You don't know why. You haven't done anything wrong, so there was no reason for him to ignore your presence like this. You'd try asking him what was wrong when you both were alone, but he couldn't even look you in the eyes. He brushed your question aside and only got up and left the room. That and not to mention he's been extra cruel to you when anyone else is around. Calling you such horrible names that lovers should never say to one another. You try showing that it didn't hurt you, but you accidentally broke down when he said something about you that you were personally insecure about. You told him that because he told you you could trust him with anything. So now, to hear him say such things like that in front of every, letting everyone know your deepest insecurity, was like a stab in the heart.

You broke down sobbing and ran to your room. Tears fell down your face as you locked the door behind you. You didn't want to see anyone right now. Grabbing a pillow, you cried into it and let your tears soak into the fabric. You were crying so hard that you felt to the point you could throw up. How could he do this to you? He surely couldn't have thought embarrassing you like that was a good thing? All you could do was cry and cry. You remembered all their faces as they watched you cry, but you couldn't tell what the emotion was. Pity? You didn't know as your heart was too heavy to continue thinking about it.

"You know, you really made me look bad out there. Normally, you just sit there and take it, but today you just decided to ball your eyes out like a little baby?" You could hear his voice from outside the door. His words enraged you. You were supposed to love and care for him and him the same, but he just crossed a line he promised he'd never cross.

"Please, not right now, Overhaul. You really hurt my feelings this time. I told you that because you promised that you would never tell anyone, and yet you threw it out for the entire world to know. Why would you do something like this?"

"It's not that big of a deal. Open the door." You didn't want to. Every part of your body was fighting with you to keep sitting. To not open that door for him. But if you didn't, you knew that the consequences could range from minor to severe depending on his mood. With the sound of his voice, you didn't want to find out what he might have planned. So, you open the door with every part of your being fighting you.

He ushered you both inside before locking the door behind him. You could hear Overhaul's footsteps behind you until you felt his chest bump against your back. You couldn't even look at his face as you stared at the floor with tears falling down your face.

"You shouldn't be crying. Who cares about it? You're going to look crazy running away sobbing after you were perfectly fine. They joked that I should send you away. Honestly, with that outburst, I'm thinking about it. You've been acting up there past few weeks. You leaving your room when I was in a meeting, talking to one of my precepts last week when I told you to never bother them, and you locking the doors and having an outburst are making me consider it. You seem to have forgotten where your place is. Maybe sending you away will put you back in your place." You spun around to look at him with wide eyes. He wouldn't actually send you away, would he? He always said he loved you! He promised that he would always take care of you! Who knows what horrors could await if he sent you away!

You turn around and jump to his feet, clinging to them like a toddler would. Tears streamed down your face as you looked at him through blurry vision.

"I promise I will be good. I promise you won't have to send me away. I'll do better this time, I promise! I'll never act up again. Just, please don't send me away!" You felt him kick you off his feet, and he stumbled back. You cried as you watched him turn around and open the door once more before overhauling it out of existence. Leaving you in a windowless and doorless room.

~~~

Every single sound bounced off the walls of the room. Even the sound of a pin dropping would sound like a bomb in the quiet room. You didn’t even know how long you’d been in the room. Two days? A week? There is no way it has been longer than a month, right? You never saw them bring you food, but every time you work up from a nap, a food plate would be lying next to where the door used to be. Always cold, but you eat it with no hesitation. You were just thankful that Overhaul had a bathroom connected to your room. You’d probably die from dehydration if it weren’t there. 

Most of your time consisted of sitting in the middle of the room, trying to figure out when you're going to get out of there. It felt like the rooms were slowly closing in on you every day as it got harder and harder to breathe with every passing day. It was always terrifying when you would turn off the light to go to bed or take a nap. Because there would be no natural light. No light from under a door. Only the light from your lamp by your bed, and even that was dimming since the original overhead light bulb was taken in your sleep on the first night of your captivity. 

You were beginning to feel as if you were crazy. Your voice would constantly echo off the walls along with the creaking of footsteps whenever you moved across the room. Itd felt like the walls were closing in on you every day, giving you such little space in your head. It was exhausting. Every day was the same.

~~~

You had started screaming and pounding on the walls at this point. You had to hear someone else’s voice. No NEED to hear someone else’s voice. If you listened to your own anymore, you would start pulling your own hair out. You couldn’t even eat anymore cause you would just throw it up when you would run across the room trying to get someone's attention. The only thing you could keep down was water. You were too afraid to sleep because what if the door opened when you were asleep? You could lose your chance to escape! You needed to escape! 

Even if you were alone, you always felt like someone was watching you. And it was driving you insane. You would always look over your shoulder, and of course, no one would be there. But someone had to be there. It’s the only way to explain the breathing! You knew the sound of your own breathing, and the noise you heard definitely wasn’t it. There had to be something in that room with you! There was no way there wasn’t! They must have put something in here while you were asleep! Yeah! That can only explain it!

~~~

Day who knows. You barely had any fight left in you. They had shut your water off 2 days ago, and all you could do was dry cough and wheeze. You couldn’t even talk, considering how dehydrated you were. They stopped giving you food about a week ago as well. Maybe this was the last part of the punishment? After this, you can go right back to Overhaul and love him like you always had! You promised that you would never act out of line again!

It didn’t help that there were scratch marks all over the walls. So deep to the point where your fingernails hurt just looking at it. Your body began shaking so much as well. You were always so cold and dizzy, so it didn’t help the shaking. Not to mention you were so tired as well. But you couldn’t sleep! The door had to open soon! Overhaul loved you even if he didn’t know how to express it! In no time soon, he’ll come and get you! He loves you too much.

~~~

You met Kai earlier this year at the grocery store. You both just happen to be grabbing the same type of bleach. You politely moved your hand away so he could grab it.

“Deeply sorry about that, sir. I didn’t see you there.” You shot him a kind smile as he just looked at you.

“It’s fine.” You looked into his cart and saw all sorts of cleaning supplies.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the need for all those cleaning supplies?”

“I hate germs.” He was a straight to the point kinda guy, huh? You looked into his cart and saw a particular type of cleaner that was known for having a lawsuit against them after it came out that it was technically just random soap water.

“I don’t mean to be a nag, but are you sure you want that kind of cleaner? I heard they have a lawsuit against them for basically just being water with soap. Not with bleach and a deep cleaner like it says on the bottle.” The man’s eyes widened as he grabbed the one that you were talking about.

“This one?! I wash the door handles with this one!” You could see hives break onto his skin as he started to scratch constantly. They looked painful, so you quickly tried to think about one of the cleaners you personally use.

“Wait, I know of a good subsistence for it! I use it all the time. It has bleach, deep cleaner, and scientists use it after they’re done cleaning!” You walk back a bit before grabbing a bottle and handing it to him.

He looks at you before grabbing it and reading the back carefully. His face was still a stoic calm like it was when you first met him.

“Thank you. How did you know about this?” 

“Oh, I work as a cleaning lady for a cleaning company. Crazy, huh?” You let out a small laugh before looking at the man before you a little more. His clothing choices were questionable, but he looked to be a fit 25-27 year old man. Not to mention his eyes were so beautiful. Like liquid gold to you and his eyelashes that somehow were better than all the men’s eyelashes you’ve seen throughout the years of your life.

“How much would I have to pay you to come work for me by cleaning my house?” Your eyes widen at his question as you look at him in shock. While you were put off by his question, a little extra money wouldn’t hurt. Rent was getting higher where you lived, and you needed money to buy food for yourself and just live in general.

“I mean...I have to look at your house before I make up my mind, if that is okay? I just wanna know what I'm getting into, ya know?” He nodded his head before turning around his cart and motioning you to follow him. You did with a bit of caution in your step. Sure the money might be nice, but you can’t always be too careful.

~~~

You paid for your things before leaving the store, which led to where you are now. Following him in his car. He must be rich because he even had someone open the door for him to get in. You didn’t want to admit it, but part of you was questioning if you should actually go through with it. You could just take a random turn and never see him again. It wouldn’t hurt you. You didn’t know what to think, so you just looked at the car ahead of you and kept driving.

~~~

“Here is the kitchen. Every part of this room must be cleaned top to bottom and not a spot missed.” The place was huge. When he told you he hated germs, he meant it. You’ve never seen someone so dedicated to cleanliness. Not to mention he made you wear a mask. It wasn’t an issue for you, but it was still surprising. 

“Top to bottom. Not a spot missed. Got it!” He nodded his head at you once more before motioning you to follow him again. You did, but the same feeling of nervousness followed you again for some reason. You couldn’t really describe it. But it felt like you weren’t supposed to be here. It was such a conflicting feeling. You needed the money, but your gut told you to run as fast as your legs could carry you. You didn’t know how to feel, so you just stared at the ground while following him.

“Is there something wrong?”

“Huh? Oh! No, I’m just looking at the floor. I tend to do that sometimes.” You let out a nervous laugh hoping he takes the lie.

“I see. Well lets continue. There’s much left to show you.”

~~~

You’ve only been working for Overhaul for about 3 months now. You don’t talk to him much, only when it’s time to get your paycheck. It’s weird. You never see him outside of that. If you did see him, he’d be with some random men and talking about something you didn’t really catch.

You were curious about what he could be doing that was so secretive. Your mind wandered with questions, but you continued scrubbing the floor. And just then is when a horrible stench at your nose. You scrunched up your face as you got up from the ground. You turn your head back and forth just to find the source of the stench, but you couldn't locate it for some reason. It was driving you insane with how horrible it was. You thought your best interest was to tell Overhaul about the horrendous stench you were smelling. You would think he would take it seriously because of how bad his germ fear was. But you didn't want to bother him during whatever he was doing, so you decided to wait till the next day to talk to him.

~~~

After you went to the base to talk to him, it seemed eerily quiet. You looked around the corridors and couldn't find anybody. But just then, you heard the silent sounds of voices coming out from three rooms away. You slowly walked towards the three rooms trying not to make a single sound as you put your ear against the door. You couldn't hear much, but you soon began to hear something that stocked you to your core. Just then, you knew who you were working for.

You began to slowly step away from the door. Out of complete fear, you accidentally tripped over your own feet. The sound of you landing on your butt caused a huge echo throughout the corridor walls. And just then, the talking inside the room stopped, and you knew you were completely screwed if they saw you there. So you quickly got up and began running to the door. In your fear and adrenaline, you could hear your boss screaming through all his lackeys to get you. Your whole life seems to flash before your eyes as you can listen to the sounds of their footsteps catching up to you fast.

When you feel a hand grab the back of your shirt is when you knew it was over. You desperately tried to thrash around to get out of the person's grasp, but it was no use. You tried planting your shoes on the floor only for it to make a sliding noise and little rubber skid marks from the bottom of your shoes.

"Let me go! I promise I won't tell anyone!"

"Oh, I know you won't." That voice. That voice only guaranteed your demise. He caught you himself. You could only pray that whatever he had planned for you wasn't horrible.

You could hear what sounded like the ground bending to his will from behind you. You quickly turn your head around to try to get a look, only to see a door. You knew for a fact that it was never there before. You passed by this hallway for months, and there was no way a door ever existed.

You could hear him gag from behind his mask before the sound of the door opened, and a wretched stench filled your nose. It was unlike anything you've ever smelled before, and you almost threw up yourself. He didn't hesitate to throw you in said room before shutting the door behind him. You began banging on the door, begging to let you out that you promise not to tell a soul. That you'll leave the country if you have to!

"Not taking any chances. Enjoy your new home." And just like that, the door slowly began to disappear as the walls seemed to swallow it whole. You banged on the wall where the door used to be and started screaming for help.

It was pitch black inside the room, and you pulled out your phone to see in the darkness. It was freezing in there, and the stench in that room was so fowl and thick that you could have cut it with a knife. You shinned your light on every corner of the room before letting out an ear-piercing scream when you found where the stench was coming from.

Your body shook as you looked at the decaying corpse on the other side of the room. You've never seen a dead body before, and now here you are looking at one. It looked like they'd been dead for a while with the amount of decay their body suffered. You felt tears brim from your eye, realizing their last days must have been in a cold dark room alone, realizing no one was ever going to come to look for them. Who knows? They could have been just like you.

Your body slowly slid down the wall as you sat on the other side of the room. You knew your flashlight wouldn't last forever, and with the lack of natural light and staying in a pretty much concrete block cell, there was no service to speak of. So even if you wanted to call someone, you couldn't.

All you could do was cry and wait for your soul to be one of the lost.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi!! This blog is a life saver, I love it so much, thank you for all the hard work you do!! I was wondering if you knew of any fics that tackled Derek’s issues with consent? like him and Stiles navigating a new relationship etc?? Any help would be amazing!!

Yeah!

Baby, Even On Our Worst Nights (I'm Into You) by Kareh

(1/1 I 1,326 I Teen)

‘Are you sure?’ Derek mumbles, ‘That this is – that you want this? Forever? Me?’ What? Stiles hadn’t been expecting that. In the six years they’d been together, every anniversary of the Hale fire had gone differently. There’d been tears, full blown rages, stony silence, acting like it’d never happened, breakdowns... But it'd never been like this.

In which Derek and Stiles have been together for six years and they're engaged but Derek is insecure and he doesn't understand why Stiles is with him and Stiles is like dude wtf have you seen ur ass i mean damn

That's Just How The Game Is Played by sottovoce81

(1/1 I 2,432 I Not Rated)

Then some lady at the store gives him that look. Like Kate. Her eyes are interested, and her grin is predatory, and Derek just knows she wants him. So he thinks to himself if he initiates it maybe it won’t leave him feeling so wrong. So he does. He lifts an eyebrow and pretends to want to look at her. She smiles and he thinks of predators in the wild, baring their teeth at prey.

He’s never understood why people can take one look at someone and want to have sex. But then, maybe it’s just something that’s broken in him. So he pretends to understand. Better to pretend than admit something’s wrong...right?

Derek’s Holiday Blues by sterekismyotp24

(1/1 I 5,271 I Explicit)

Derek is depressed at Christmas, blaming himself for the Hale fire and stuck in his own head, until Stiles finds him and gets him out of the peak of his depression on Christmas Day.

With Delayed Expression by Idday

(1/1 I 10,397 I Mature)

"I have… well… she said that she thinks that I maybe have… PTSD?”

The line goes so dead that Derek almost thinks Stiles hung up on him. He waits eight very quiet seconds, and says softly, “Stiles?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Stiles says, breath whooshing back over the phone line.

“I have PTSD,” Derek says more firmly. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, not as a question. It hasn’t really seemed real, until now. He’d spent the whole of his last session arguing that Tamara was wrong about him, and saying it out loud is like admitting it’s true. “Post-traumatic stress dis—”

“I know what it means,” Stiles interrupts, “I just didn’t think I’d heard right. Oh my God.”

walk me down your broken line by geordielover

(1/1 I 18,411 I Explicit)

The kissing. That’s important, very important. Not that the homicidal lycanthrope dragging him through dirt and fallen leaves isn’t important, but the kiss that follows? The path to this monumental push of lips on lips began even before this ill-fated venture to the Hale house.

The douchebag manhandling him through the forest, hand clamped tight around Stiles’s throat to keep him from screaming, is just a bonus.

The Unicorn In Me by Emela 

(1/1 I 18,570 I Explicit)

Derek touches a Unicorn and it doesn't try to kill him, despite the fact he is no longer a virgin. When Peter tells the pack about Kate, Stiles makes it his mission to give Derek the kind of relationship he deserves.

Soul Sparked by sapphireginger

(15/? I 40,449 I Mature)

Everyone is born with a mate. The only clue that each person gets is a soul mark that makes its first appearance on their tenth birthday. The mark interacts with each person because they are a piece of the person, they will one day bond with. Derek has always longed for his mate after seeing his mama and papa so happy together and hearing the story of how they met. When he gets his soul mark it's the happiest day of his life. Then comes a day when the mark no longer brings him happiness and hope as it once did. Instead, he's reminded of the so-called loves that didn't work and he no longer wants to be reminded. So, when he turns eighteen, he takes a friend up on the offer to rid him of the mark which is legal once a person reaches that age. Derek had no way of knowing what effects his mate would endure because it was supposed to be painless.

When Rome's in Ruins (We are the Lions) by Kedreeva

(14/14 I 209,089 I Explicit)

Humankind has turned arena battles between supernatural creatures into its largest form of entertainment. Stiles Stilinski is a well-known warden who comes to arena-fighter Derek Hale to make him an offer.

As Ordered by KattsEyeDemon, seekeronthepath

(117/? I 608.801 I Explicit)

During the year in which they turn eighteen, all American citizens are tested to find where they fall on the Dom-sub scale and are assigned to a Dom - either to mentor them as they learn how to be a Dom themselves, or to look after them and make sure their needs as a submissive are met. When Stiles tests as a sub, he’s assigned to Derek Hale, and the two of them gradually learn to rely on and love each other.

[wornoutmouse]

Fun fact: demon slayer starts in 1912 and ends in 1927(or at least that's when the Tashio era ends). Using that math Tanjiro (as long as he kept his health good) would very well be alive today at the ripe age of like 78 if my math is correct since he started as 13 in the series. (My math probably wrong asf)

Power imbalance, power bottom reader, knife play,  blood but not blood play...

He hated you.

Your very being irked him more than anything he'd ever experienced in all his centuries of living. You were clumsy, boisterous, and played that arrogant music all throughout your home while walking around half naked. Well in Muzan's opinion you were half naked, he couldn't even begin to describe his disbelief at the trend of exposing skin. 

It didn't help that you had that insignificant filth running through your veins. At first he was unsure, after all this was a completely different country than Japan, not to mention your darker skin and coiled hair. But no, he could smell and recognise the Kamado blood running through your veins just as strongly as it had run through all your ancestors. 

Completely undiluted. 

At the very beginning when you first moved in, you  came to his home. Knocking aggressively on his front door already getting off to the wrong start. When he opened it, you slipped past him and walked into his living room barely even saying hello as you put poorly decorated sugar cookies on his obsidian coffee table. "This is a nice place you got here Mj." 

Muzan's eyes twitched, that joke had long since gotten old since he moved to America. 

Now that you were closer he could definitely smell, the century old stench of rivaling bloodlust simmered just below your onyx skin. At any moment he expected you to attack him in some way or form. "Anyways I'm here to say hello neighbor, my name is Y/n and I'm your new best friend!"

Your happy attitude also agitated him to no end. Even though the knowledge of demons had dwindled down to only a few select families, even basic humans were wary of him as their baser instincts made them aware of his dangerous origins. This fact had long since forced Muzan to only prey on the elderly to survive. You had stayed a bit longer babbling about some nonsense that Muzan never acknowledged as he watched you from a good distance.

"You know you really got to add more to your wardrobe than 1963 suits." You walked from the back of his home, an area that he didn't even notice you wandered to. Finally getting bored, you open his door bidding your farewells. 

Just before leaving you stop and with a cheeky grin say, "If you ever need anything just come on over. We Kamado's are known for our kindness." 

Since then he'd been on edge around you. The point of relocating was for him to keep a low profile but now it seems he'd have to come face to face with an old nemesis reborn. 

Muzan snapped out of his thoughts with a flinch as he pierced his hand with his nail. He watches the dark blood well up from the wound and drip down his wrist. In the end this world had long since lost its hostility dwindling the average human incapable of basic combat. Giving you were no doubt a great descendant, Muzan failed to see you as a true threat.  

But one can never be too sure

🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢🥢

You heard a knock on your door, soft and hesitant. "I don't think I'm expecting company." You checked your watch and peered out of a nearby window. It was at least 8 at night, you were braless wearing sweats with a red T-Shirt and on your way to bed.  In the back of your mind you visualize your two grand-uncles Inosuke and Zenitsu coming over to make you spectate their fights. For two old dudes they still had enough strength in them to do hip breaking nonsense.

You open the door shocked to see your next door neighbor standing before you. For once he wasn't wearing a suit that cost more than your house. His attire was still expensively dressed but in a more casual sense, that being a black dress shirt and slacks. His sleeves were rolled up displaying his pale skin. "Can I come in?" A dazzling smile you had never seen before practically blinds you as he walks past you into your home.

When Muzan walks in his eyes immediately dart to the clear as day Nichirin Blade sword displayed recklessly on your living room wall above your couch. "You like it?" A hand on his shoulder makes him jump, "Got it from my grandpa, he says it's really special but I feel like he's exaggerating. You know how old people are." Muzan shakes out of his stupor. "I don't quite understand what you mean by that, however I do know that it's much more wise to listen to your elders than ignoring…..It could save your life."

Muzan replicates you and puts a hand on your shoulder gently squeezing. This was it, he'd go in for the kill and it would be over, the amount of blood he'd pump into you would be enough to watch you meet a satisfying end of combustion completely untraceable if the police were to get involved. How he wishes he'd be there when your poor grandfather walks along your remains splattered on every surface in your living room. Unable to do a thing as he's finally in his last stretch of life. 

The beauty.

Muzan's finger only twitches in the slightest before pain sparks from his own neck. "The thought of you coming into my own home unprovoked and at night no less, was the most obvious sign one could ask more." You had his hand gripped so tight your veins popped while your other hand held a small pocket knife that burned  brighter than any Nichirin sword he'd ever encountered. He didn't understand, he was quick enough to kill even the best of the ancient Hiroshima. So how did a little foreign girl like you get the upper hand?

It was embarrassing and almost laughable if any of his pillars were alive to tell the tale.

You press the blade harder before bringing your other hand to caress Muzan's cheek,  "Did you think I'd be just an ignorant descendant of an infamous hero?" You clicked your teeth disappointingly. "How naive, you've really become lazy after all these millennia huh?" You walk forward, pushing Muzan back with seductive strength. He allows you to push him into your couch,  I say allow because at any time he could have stopped you.  

Muzan is most definitely not holding me at gunpoint right now. 

The knife never wavers even as you climb into Muzan's lap, pressing it even closer against his jugular. "You do know getting beheaded will not kill me, and I doubt this petty little kitchen knife will get the job done in the first place." Your lips draw into a smirk and you press the knife closer as you trail it down his chest, "That may be true but it's gonna take one hell of a time for you to grow back." Your hand jerks down, popping his shirt buttons open.

Muzan watches with interest, your eyes light up as more skin becomes exposed. The tones of your dark skin contrast strikingly as you caress his pectoral with the tips of your fingers. "For a 1,000 year old grandpa you look decent." Still threatening his life with your blade, you kiss him. It's deep and carnal. Your lustful desires being made known as you grind in his lap. The flesh of your ass snuggly hotdogs the forming outline of his cock. "I've always wanted to be with a demon. You've had to of become a real freak after living this long!"

When you pull away Muzan's thin lips are pink and a bit swollen. He is out of breath despite needing none, "You have a lot of nerve for a mere human." With your free hand you loosen the belt of his slacks, only standing to pull them off, pleased when Muzan voluntarily raises his hips to aid you. 

Don't get him wrong, he was still planning on killing you and ending your wretched bloodline once and for all, he just needed his mind to clear itself. Your scent, your confidence, strung him along like a puppet. His hands grip onto your ass cheeks like a lifeline. Molding them between his fingers, even giving them a shake through your sweats. His nails elongate and puncture the thick fabric as if it was nothing more than a spider web. 

Your sweats are tugged off completely leaving your lower half nude. Muzan moves his hands to hold your ass again but your blade politely makes itself known. You are out of breath and clearly flustered. "Watch yourself, demon, I'm the one calling the shots, don't forget that." Muzan bites his tongue with sharp glare. He raises his hands in surrender, "Of course." 

Muzan can feel your wetness against his leg and it's driving him insane. "Hey…" red eyes refocus on yours, "You ain't got any diseases do you? And you can't get me pregnant right?" Muzan smirks hands enclosing around your ass despite your protest. "I can, however it will cost a lot more than doing it once." The odds didn't seem in your favor but you were in no position to stand down and grab a condom and Muzan knew it.

You curve the blade towards his chin, "If you are lying and give me some ancient unknown disease or I find out you have superman sperm, I will kill you." Muzan links his lips, "Wasn't that the plan from the beginning or have you had a moment of level headedness?" Your wrist is quick and precise, cutting a thin slash along his jawline., not enough to scar and it barely even bled, but the threat was clear.

You grab Muzan's dick and use your thumb to attack the underside with fast strokes. Said man doesn't react outwardly, the only sign being his eyelids lowering by a fraction. "Were you always this well endowed or did you adjust this part too?" Muzan was not amused by your insinuation. Deciding to once again display the true power imbalance this situation had, he loops his arms underneath your large thighs and lifts you just enough to thrust his cock against your hole. 

From there he let's go, making you plop down on his length, making you yelp and allowing him to lean back with a relaxed sigh. You were so warm and tight. Now even though I explained what had happened with great detail,  keep in mind that in reality it all happened within a fraction of a second. 

Your large and in charge persona was cracking.  You gripped Muzan's sides tightly as your pussy spasmed around his girth. "F-Fuck it's too….." you trail off not wanting to give Muzan the credit he was truly due. 

It takes a few moments for you to get your bearings all the while Muzan and his dangerous jaw swayed in the crevice of your neck. A viper playing with its prey. The blade is back against his neck once again making his cock twitch. If he were human this would be a dangerous feat.  Your grip never slacked nor lessened against his neck, slicing into a growing wound that dropped dark blood down his chest and to his abdomen. 

His dick stretched your pussy and made it weap on each downstroke. Muzan's hands grip onto the cheeks of your ass with gritted teeth.  Your insides gripped him ever so slightly.  Sucking him back in as if he belonged there.  He felt used and it felt good.  His black ringlets stuck to his face from sweat and his red eyes grew in intensity. 

He couldn't see much of your body, hell he could barely even touch. In the back of his mind humorous thoughts such as how he knew Tanjiro would lose his sanity if he knew his granddaughter was being bedded by the man he despised. But the more you bounced, the more you squeezed, the deeper you cut into his neck proved that you were truly the one in charge. 

"Oh God you're so deep!" Your deep almond eyes shut themselves with pleasure. Muzan could feel your legs shaking with exertion at the same rhythm your pussy twitched. His balls felt tight after having no action in over a dozen years. "F-Faster." He has no care for your blade, only wanting to cum and feel the sweet ecstasy he knew your creamed pussy would provide. "Come on human, go faster." Muzan locks lips with you, gaze hardened and intent on proving some sort of point.

Tossing the knife you wrap your arms around his neck pulling his head closer. Red eyes target brown ones as his hands take a stronger grip on your ass. He uses his strength to bounce you. The sound of his balls slapping against the curve of your ass is just as disgusting as it is sexy. Your nipples rub against his through your tank-top making you both moan. The feeling blood stains your shirt making you shiver from the cool wetness

The couch you rest on bangs against the wall behind you the faster you both go. Muzan's feet are planted firmly in the ground, his fangs further elongated. He looks feral and it is in this moment where you get a glimpse of the horror many people felt when he took their lives. "Focus little Kamado, you wouldn't want to disappoint me now would you?" 

Muzan's hips meet yours, spreading the tempo. Your juices coat his lap before finally you tense up completely into a cramp inducing stance as Muzan impaled you on his cock one last time. "Ahh.." Muzan empties himself within you with a relieved sigh. 

Maybe the Kamado bloodline could go on.

[hangezoeenthusiast]

You failed me

multiple x gn!reader

word count: 2,524

warnings: cursing, yelling, arguing, death, angst, blood, explosion, the egg (it deserves its own warning)

synopis: you guys failed me(us)

(the lyrics go with each person, might not get everyone, and also xd’s part is kinda wonky)

song: rät by penelope scott

I come from scientists and atheists and white men who kill God They make technology, high quality, complex physiological Experiments and sacrilege in the name of public good They taught me everything, just like a daddy should

Quackity, Karl, George, and Sapnap left you. Your mentors, your friends. The ones who taught you everything you knew. They went to build their little “Kinoko Kingdom” while you stayed in the ruins, the dust. “They’ll regret that.” you swore. You built something better, something greater.

It was called “Las Nevadas”. A place where everyone was allowed. They would remember not to fuck with you. They would soon realize that they should watch their back for the rest of their short, stupid lives.

“Watch out, you guys, I'm watching your every move.”

And you were beautiful and vulnerable and power and success God damn, I fell for you, your flamethrowers, your tunnels, and your tech I studied code because I wanted to do something great like you And the real tragеdy is half of it was true

Wilbur majorly fucked up. He was supposed to be with you to the end, your guys’ country, right? No. He left you behind. He went to find peace, find his heaven, while you stayed on earth, wallowing away until your flesh seeped off your rattling bones, rotting away by yourself, with no one to bare witness.

“Why didn’t you bring me with you Wilbur?” you asked his stupid grave on top of the once L’Manburg. “Why did you get the ecstasy, why do I get the remains?”

“I’m coming for you Wilbur, and when I do, we are going to wreck upon justice on everyone who wronged us, wronged you, they will feel our wrath.”

But we've been fuckin' mеan, we're elitist, we're as flawed as any church And this faux-rad West coast dogma has a higher fuckin' net worth I bit the apple 'cause I trusted you, it tastes like Thomas Malthus Your proposal is immodest and insane And I hope someday Selmers rides her fuckin' train

"Y/n!" Technoblade yelled. "I TRUSTED YOU, AND YOU BETRAYED ME, FOR WHAT, TO BLOW UP A STUPID COUNTRY, A COUNTRY THAT WAS DOOMED TO FAIL FROM THE START." He started to battle you, missing every single swing, blinded by fury.

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE.”

"LOOK AT ME GODDAMN IT."

You looked up at him in the eyes and boldly said, "No, Techno, don’t you see, you’re in the wrong here, you’re the one who betrayed me." You were blinded by friendship, you couldn’t see that Tommy had betrayed Techno, and that what the Butcher Army did to Techno was terrible.

"What do you mean Y/n, you know what they did, they wronged me, they used me, they tortured me, they gave me hell, so I gave it back to them, I destroyed the things they loved, the people they loved, you see Y/n, those who have treated me with kindness I will repay that kindness tenfold, and those who treat me with injustice, that use me, that hunt me down, that hurt my friends, I shall repay that injustice a thousand times over, do you understand?"

"No I don't, Techno, you can't do this.” you begged. He pushed you out of the way, "Get out of my way Y/n." “No, I won’t, I won’t let you destroy everything we worked for.”

“Well, then I have to fight you.”

And thus the battle began, Swords clashing against each other, blood spilling from open wounds, friends digging each other into a whole both of them couldn’t get out of. Techno was letting you off easy, he knew his strength, he knew that he could’ve beaten you in one swipe, but he didn’t want to kill you.

So when you had the opportunity, you swept from under his feet, and knocked him down. You placed your blade onto his neck, pressing down until a little drop of blood appeared, “Stay down Technoblade, or I’ll do something worse than try to put you on trial.”

He watched as you walked away from him, trying to save L’Manberg from a worst fate than death itself.

“One day Y/n, you’ll see, I’m on your side.”

I loved you, I loved you, I loved you, it's true I wanted to be you and do what you do I lived here, I loved here, I bought it, it's true I feel so stupid, and so used I feel so used

"Why would you do that Dream? You didn't have to do that." you interrogated. Dream had stupidly blew up the community house. You both didn't plan that, he had gone behind your back. "I had to Y/n, you wouldn't understand."

"What do you mean I don't understand, you went against my back, we were supposed to-" you cut off yourself, "Dream, don't you understand, you did something stupid, and what did you get, you got stupid jail." "The reason I did that is because I needed to isolate myself from humanity." he said, proudness lacing his words.

"What do you mean?" you questioned. "If anyone knows I can revive people, I'm screwed, so that's why I need to be by myself, yeah it sucks major ass, but at least no one else will know, well, besides you anyways." "I have a task for you Y/n/n, I need you to find a way to bring Tommy and Ghostbur in here."

"Why Dream?"

"I'm going to revive Wilbur."

I was your baby, your firstborn, the hot girl in your comp-sci class And I was Darwin's prep school dream, bred, born and raised to kick your ass I fell for circuit boards, rocket ships, pictures of the stars If you could only be what you pretend you are

"PHILZA MINECRAFT COME BACK HERE." you were chasing Phil, through the woody forest, covered by oak trees. He had information on Technoblade's whereabouts and you needed it. You chased him with your enchanted netherite armor, netherite sword and axe, and a few op potions. Your goal was to capture Philza and interrogate him on where Techno's place was. The thing was, you were his child. His own child trying to kill his own son.

He felt betrayed, his own child turned against him and their brother, their family. "The Butcher Army must've gotten to you somehow." he thought in his head. Surely, his darling Y/n didn't do it on their own will, right?

He was incorrect, you did it because you believed that Techno needed to be brought to justice, by punishment. You believed that your own sibling needed to die, because he was a "liability" to L'Manberg's growth and future. He needed to die because as long as he would live his long life with his little enderman Edward, retired, he would still cause trouble to everything you, Quackity, Tubbo, Fundy, and Ranboo had built.

He pleaded, "Stop Y/n, you don't have to do this." You argued, "I do Philza, as long as he lives, my plans for L'Manberg will forever cease to exist."

He felt like shit, you called him Philza, not Dadza, or Dad, or anything besides his normal name. "Did I screw something up?" he asked himself quietly under his breath. "Yes you did Phil, you took the traitor's side." you had heard Phil mumble.

"HE'S NOT A TRAITOR." Phil yelled at you. "Yes he is, he deserves what he is about to get, I will say it again, where is his base?"

"I'm not saying, Y/n, why are you doing this, Techno is your own sibling." "He's not my sibling anymore, that stopped when he destroyed L'Manberg, you're lucky I forgived you." you declared.

"Y/n/n, please don't do this."

"I have to Dadza, I can't let him roam free."

When I said take me to the moon, I never meant take me alone I thought if mankind toured the sky, it meant that all of us could go But I don't want to see the stars if they're just one more piece of land For us to colonize, for us to turn to sand

Bad had tried to convice you to join the Eggpire. You had no effect while being next to the egg, and he had to take you out. People who had no effect towards the egg had to be eliminated.

He was creepily following you, waiting until you stopped to get a chance to capture you. He had hope that you did have an effect, that you would join the Egg with him. He didn't want to kill you, you were his best friend, besides Skeppy of course.

"Come back here Y/n." he said. "No chance in hell Bad, get the fuck away from me." "HEY, LANGUAGE!" he exclaimed. "No language, get away from me, you're creeping me out."

He threw his trident, spinning in the air, trying to catch up to your frantic steps. You were trying to get to Church Prime, where no one could kill anyone, hopefully Bad would abide to that rule. You were just about to step on Church Prime when you bumped into a hard, armored chest.

You looked up shyly, and saw Punz, with his red eyes reflecting anger. "Where are you going Y/n?" he questioned. "Somewhere." you blankly stated. You were desperate, you didn't want to die, or anything else that Bad was going to do to you. You tried to dodge Punz, but he placed a hand on your shoulder, "Stay right here Y/n."

"No, get away from me, I don't know what's wrong with all of you, but go away, I don't want anything to do with your stupid Eggpire." He raged, and grabbed your wrist heavily, "DON'T TALK ABOUT THE EGG LIKE THAT, IT WILL TAKE CONTROL OF THE SERVER, AND YOU ALL WILL BE ITS SERVANTS." "LET ME THE FUCK GO PUNZ." you screamed. You were wiggling in his grip, trying to escape his lunatic self.

While he was holding you, you saw two other shadows behind you. It was Antfrost and Bad. "What do you guys want from me, I didn't do anything wrong."

"You are against the Egg Y/n, people who are like you and Tommy have to die."

"Well, I'm not dying today." you murmured under your breath. "What was that you said?" Antfrost asked you.

You smirked, "I'm not dying today, I'll tell you one more time, let go of me."

Bad and Antfrost walked closer to you, Punz right behind you, all of them cornering you into a tight spot. "What you going to do about it Y/n, you're cornered."

"You'll know when they get here, but for now, you better run boys."

'Cause we're so fuckin' mean, we're so elitist, we're as fucked as any church And this bullshit West coast dogma has a higher fuckin' net worth I bit the apple 'cause I loved you, and why would you lie? And then I realized that you're just as naïve as I am Oh, you're so traumatized it makes me want to cry

"Tubbo, don't do this." Schlatt had unfortunately found out that you were a spy, that you were on Pogtopia's side. He had ordered Tubbo to kill you with fireworks, to light you on fire, give you blisters all over your body. "Please Tubbs, you're my friend." you pleaded.

"I can't Y/n/n, or something worse will happen." he whispered to you. "What do you mean?" you asked. "He can-" he trailed off, looking somewhere else besides your eyes. "Tubbo, you don't have to do what that stupid bastard tells you to do, you're your own person, with your own thoughts and actions."

"I'm sorry Y/n, I hope you can forgive me."

"TUBBO N-" you was cut off by firewords hitting your skin, making blisters and burn marks all over your body. You lost your second canon life, feeling betrayed by Tubbo. He killed you for what, a stupid father who never cared about him in his entire life, a father who exiled his friends that actually treated him like a person, and not like some random piece of trash.

You respawned in your bed, feeling bruises and bumps mostly on your forearms and your back.

"I'll help you Tubbo, I’ll get rid of him.”

You dumb bitch I loved you, I loved you, I loved you, it's true I wanted to be you and do what you do I lived here, I loved here, I bought it, it's true I'm so embarrassed, I feel abused

“Come on Y/n/n, come with me.” Punz begged of you. He wanted you to visit the Egg. You didn’t want to be controlled by a stupid omelette. "I'm not Punzo, why are you so obsessed with that stupid thing."

"DON'T SPEAK OF THE EGG LIKE THAT."

You put your hands in front of you, accidentally touching Punz's chest, "Ok calm down buddy." He didn't calm down and instead yelled at you on why you had to join the Eggpire.

"If you join, you will be forever happy."

"If you join you'll get whatever you want."

You were tired of the members of the Eggpire to convince you to join them, you didn't like eggs anyway. "Punz, for the last time, I'm not joining you, stop telling me."

“Then you have to die.”

So fuck your tunnels, fuck your cars, fuck your rockets, fuck your cars again You promised you'd be Tesla, but you're just another Edison 'Cause Tesla broke a patent, all you ever broke were hearts I can't believe you tore humanity apart

“XD!” You were pissed at him, he had destroyed your house, made your friends pissed at you, just everything you liked. All because he wanted you for himself.

He wanted you to be dependent on his every word, and he was being a manipulative psychopath. And you didn’t tolerate that, it was like he was his human counterpart, Dream.

He walked to you with confidence, waiting for to get a hug from you, well, he didn’t get that. You slapped him so hard his head swung to the left.

“WHAT THE FUCK.”

“That’s what you get you stupid son of a bitch. You fucking ruined everything.” “Calm down Y/n/n, what is wrong?” He acted concerned, but you knew that he was faking. He would do anything to get someone’s approval.

“DO YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT’S WRONG, IT’S YOU, YOUR STUPID PRESENCE IN MY LIFE. YOU KEEP ON WALKING AROUND LIKE YOU FUCKING OWN THE PLACE.”

“Calm down darling, just take some netheri-” you interrupted him by slapping the ore out of his hands. “I don’t need jack shit from you XD, you know what, take back the necklace, I don’t want it.” You pulled the shiny, green emerald necklace off your neck, and pulled XD’s palm out.

You placed the necklace filled with memories, and put it on his hand. You closed up his palm, and walked away, leaving XD to his own accord.

“We could’ve had evertything X.”

[restapesta]

23. Don’t you get it? You’re the only one I can be honest with.

Mickey takes being alone with Ian for granted. He really does.

It's quite sad he only realizes that when he's not alone with his ginger life companion—specifically when he's stuck in a moving car with him and fucking Phillip, feeling like a pussy for not having the guts to just open the door and jump out.

Did Ian put child's lock on his door, what the fuck?

He can't do this. It's a fifteen-minute ride to the Gallagher house and Mickey won't be able to survive it. No fucking way. Why did Ian have to say yes to picking Lip up from work? Did he know what hell he would be putting his poor husband through, huh?

If college bitch says something about his shitty delivery job one more time, he swears to God—

"And you know what the best part about this shitty delivery job is?" No. Please, God, make him stop. "Bathroom? Doesn't even fucking exist,"

If Mickey had a gun, he'd stuff it in his mouth.

From the corner of his eye, Mickey sees Ian's gripping the wheel slightly tighter, his knuckles turning white, his tongue bitten between his slightly clenched teeth. Sadly, only Mickey can see him be so frustrated from the passenger seat. He wishes Lip would lean over from the back and see how fucking annoying he really is with his constant babbling.

Maybe it's good he didn't bring a gun with him—Ian looks like he'd wanna stuff it in his mouth, too.

Does he have child's lock on?

"Anyways," Lip breathes out and Mickey focuses on the buzzing of the AC so he wouldn't have to endure the brainwashing his brother-in-law's—why him?—voice is doing.

Ian seems to be thinking the same thing, his eyes rolling discreetly to the back of his head, staying there for a moment or two.

Mickey's torn between telling him to keep his eyes on the goddamn road or just letting him crash their new car into a pole. At least then they wouldn't have to listen to the yapping that's filling every nook and cranny of the fresh interior.

Their car had never seemed so small. Since when is Mickey so claustrophobic? There used to be so much room.

Oh right, Lip's ego is taking up most of it. How could Mickey forget?

"Oh, yeah," He says suddenly, and Ian and Mickey share a look. What now? Will he ever stop? "I meant to ask you about your meds, Ian. You told me you were visiting your doctor or some shit like that."

Mickey reclines back in his seat, lips pursing as he waits for Ian to fill Lip in on the new prescription and its side effects, and whatever other shit Mickey's already got written down in the notes on his phone from when Ian told him in detail about it.

He had been pretty down when he came home from seeing his doctors, listing off all of the shit he was worried about with the new therapy and adjusting to it. He even had a couple of sleepless nights that resulted in him seeking out different pharmacies to buy sleeping pills, which ultimately led to a night of sleepless vomiting because the cocktail of pills didn't really bode well for Ian's stomach.

Mickey doesn't mind reliving it. Doesn't mind listening to his husband talk about the things important to him and things that Mickey should know about.

And, truthfully, Mickey's already come face to face with the fact that he likes knowing about all of Ian's shit—they're already living, sleeping, and working together, so the prospect of knowing that new meds give Ian diarrhea if they're taken on an empty stomach doesn't really seem like a TMI-type of thing to know.

When Ian's related, nothing and everything is pretty much TMI.

"Oh," Ian responds after a moment of silence. His eyes aren't focused when Mickey turns to look at him. It seems as if he's racking his brain around for the proper words, yet can't seem to find them. Eventually, he just lets out, "Everything's the same. Nothing new."

Mickey knows that's not true.

"Didn't you say you were being put on some new shit?" Lip's confused. Mickey is too.

Ian was put on new shit. Shit that landed him with a week of goddamn exhaustion and a fucked-up stomach.

"No. It's the same."

"Oh," Lip mutters. "Okay then."

And he continues to go into another monologue about why being a delivery boy is such a shitty job to have with a mind of his.

Mickey stares at Ian's side profile for as long as it takes him to turn around and meet his eye. It takes him long—in fact, Mickey's pretty sure Ian won't be turning around any time soon.

Why would he lie? Why would he hide the fact he did change his meds when it's really not that big of a deal?

Mickey's even more confused by it because Ian had ranted about his doctor's appointment the day of it, nearly talking Mickey's ear off. He had been annoyed, relieved, and worried, all at the same time, and the entire Tuesday was just spent with them talking about bipolar like the mundane thing it was.

So, why wouldn't Ian just want to retell that shit again? It wasn't as if he didn't still have frustrations over it. Not like he wouldn't fucking jump on the chance to talk about his biggest concerns the second the opportunity presented itself.

Why then?

Lip's still talking and Ian's still not looking at him.

Mickey places a gentle hand on his thigh, trying to get his attention. In response to Mickey's thumb running over his husband's jeans, Ian just places a hand on top of his, picking it up and raising it to his mouth until the rough skin meets the smoothness of his lips. When he finally looks at him, there's a plead in his eye. An answer to Mickey's unasked question.

Later.

"Ugh, can you guys not do that here? Since when did you become that couple?"

They both ignore the dumbass in the backseat of their car. Ian turns to look ahead, and he pushes his foot down visibly on the gas pedal, and Mickey knows that the time until they're able to drop Lip off is cutting shorter.

"You guys are really annoying with that mind-reading shit, you know that?"

Mickey breathes in deeply.

Five more minutes. Just five more minutes and they'll be alone.

Ian's hand doesn't disentangle from his, but Mickey does move them so they're laying on top of his leg, palms pressed tightly together. He squeezes at it once.

Ian squeezes back.

There's a faint mumble from the back.

"I fucking hate being the third wheel."

Mickey barely stops himself from jumping into Ian's lap, just in spite.

Instead, with his free hand, he just flips him off.

---

They're driving to their place when Mickey finally asks the question. They've been alone for a couple of minutes now, after a prolonged—much to both their dismays—goodbye to Lip in front of the Gallagher house. As soon as it was appropriate to, Ian peeled out of the driveway, putting as much distance between him and his family—his annoying-ass brother—as he possibly could in a record time.

At first, Mickey fiddled with the radio until he landed on some radio station that played pop-shit music, lowering the volume until the Taylor Swift song—he hates that he knows it—was just a hum filling the silence. Ian isn't speaking, but he doesn't seem tense.

He seems just as always, shoulders even further relaxed—slumped, actually, because he has the posture of a question mark—now that Lip is out of the car and in the hands of the others to deal with.

"So," Mickey starts casually when his weirdo of a partner starts singing lowly to Lover on the radio. It's a song they only listen to when they're feeling sappier than usual, but Ian tends to always be sappy, so none of this sweet singing shit was a surprise for Mickey. The lyrics coming out of Ian's mouth still make his chest swell pleasantly, despite him barely holding himself back from rolling his eyes. "What was that?"

"Hm?" Ian's eyes momentarily move to eye Mickey. They go back almost immediately. "What was what?"

"What was that thing with Lip?" The question isn't meant to be judgmental nor accusing. Mickey really is just curious.

It wasn't him whom Ian had lied to. But why did he lie in the first place?

Ian shrugs, lowering the volume with the switch on the wheel even further until they can barely hear the soft voice.

"I just didn't feel like telling him." Is the simple reply.

"Why?"

"Because."

"Ian."

"Mickey—"

"Come on, man, don't give me that bullshit."

"I'm not—I don't," He exhales roughly as if finally forcing himself to admit to something he doesn't want to admit to. "I don't like anybody knowing about it. It's nobody's business but my own."

Mickey makes a face, still confused as fuck. He gets the reasoning behind the words, but it's just not clicking in his brain. Maybe Lip really did brainwash it. "You say you don't like anybody knowing, but you told me."

Ian glances away from the road and sends Mickey the type of look that says he thinks what Mickey just said was the dumbest thing possible. It's incredulous.

"You're not anybody, Mick."

And that's sweet and all, but—

"Lip's not anybody either."

Ian sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, dramatically exasperated. "Don't you get it, Mickey? You're the only one I can be honest with. Completely transparent."

Mickey doesn't know why he's still pushing, but fuck, there's no way. "You can be transparent with Lip. He'll hear you out, give you advice. Won't judge you." Why is he defending Lip again? "I'm not the only one who understands."

"Yeah, but you're the only one who isn't annoying about it. If I wanted Lip to know, I would've called him straight away. But instead, I talked to you. Mickey, you're a dumbass if you don't see that you're the only one I want to tell."

Well fuck.

Mickey blinks. He actually is a dumbass, but that's already been genetically proven. This is something else.

Mickey feels Ian's words deep in his chest. His heart jumps to his throat—it's one of the best things Ian could've said to him. It doesn't feel fucking real.

"Really?" He asks pathetically. It's not like Ian would lie; he's always had a knack for saying everything that's on his mind. Mickey loves that about him right now. It's just that—Mickey? He wants to tell Mickey about it and nobody else?

Ian smiles at him. "Really, babe," Mickey blushes as the nickname. "You know just how many questions to ask. When to listen and when to talk. When to give me advice and when to tell me to get out of my own head." Ian's eyebrows furrow. "Lip doesn't know how to do that. Not like you—"

No. Mickey will not cry. No. It's just eyeball sweat.

"—With you, I know that I can say whatever is on my mind and won't feel like shit about it. It's fucking liberating, having somebody like that."

Mickey breathes in deeply. Fuck Ian for using his words like this and making his heart squeeze impossibly. Why is he so fucking perfect all the fucking time?

How did Mickey get so fucking lucky?

"Yeah," He responds dumbly, out of breath—because it legit is logged up in his throat at the moment. He clears it. "I guess that's what best friends are for."

And the grin Ian sends him in response to the sheepishly-said sentence is enough to make butterflies explode inside Mickey's belly—ugh, no, he's supposed to be past that stage, for fuck's sake.

Ian's still grinning as Mickey's whole face probably turns the shade of Ian's favorite vegetable—maybe that's why Ian likes it when Mickey blushes—and he has to avert his gaze so he doesn't go even redder than Ian's hair.

"Best friends? I feel honored, Mick."

"Shut up."

"No, for real."

"Shut up."

Ian laughs and spares Mickey the embarrassment by raising the volume up on the radio, the song now booming loudly through the space.

Ian glances over at Mickey right as he starts singing it joyfully, a wide smile on his face. This is the Ian Mickey knows and loves—happy Ian.

Mickey's favorite Ian after the horny one.

Mickey's chest swells with pride. He ended up with Ian. The Ian who loves him unconditionally; who knows just the right to say and when to say it; who just told him Mickey's the only one he can be real with.

I can only be honest with you, too. He wants to tell him. I only am honest with you.

Instead of saying the words, he starts singing himself, and the screeching voices of two men stupidly in love are seeping out of the slightly opened windows, the wind whooshing them away.

I can only do this with you, Mickey thinks. I'm only this free with you.

Judging by the way Ian's smiling, Mickey guesses he's thinking the same thing, too.

"Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover."