#never do anything and therefore never have anything to talk about. but i can talk about jeonju

[potato-lord-but-not]

Around 8 months ago (I can't believe its been that long either) you answered an ask about what Arthur Lester and his 3 bf's ideal positions were (top/bottom/switch), and, just out of curiosity, have you changed your mind at all about your answers? Or is John still a top, Oscar still a bottom, and Noel & Arthur both switches?

ITS BEEN THAT LONG ?!?!!?! good god oufghc anyway anyway- I think that has changed a bit and I’ll put my ramblings under cut bc well. there’s probably a bit more detail than you want out on your tumblr dash

okay Arthur hasn’t changed, he’s still a switch in my heart. I think John is still mainly a top, but he dabbles in switching positions. Like if someone realllllyyyy wants to top he’ll be like “okay :)”

Noel is definitely just a top, and he tried being the bottom once and was content to not try it again (even if Oscar was patient and gentle). Although he does top, he’s not much for penetrative sex. He has some problems getting like, physically aroused (also aforementioned preferences- he’s a bit of a voyeur, he’s got those monsterfucker tendencies, whatever the fuck he and the butcher had going on) and therefore likes to get creative with it. He definitely likes to have a bit of control during sex, not being possessive but just being in the lead.

Oscar is mainly still a bottom but I think he can switch it up if he wants because he’s hot like that. Im pretty sure this might directly contradict my earlier statements, b u t- it took him a while to be comfortable being the top, because he’s had very negative connotations with that position. He didn’t like the idea of the power imbalance during sex it could make, and that he’d be the one creating it. With enough patience tho he was willing to give it go with someone he trusted (Noel probably, and although that didn’t do much for Noel he was still great at giving pointers). Annddd I think that’s why I like bottom John and top Oscar together bc they’re going against their usual preferences and trusting the other to give them something they don’t usually get.

I feel bad for writing whole paragraphs for Noel and Oscar and jarthur just gets to share a single sentence um OOPS- uhhh o k a y

John! a switch with top preferences! he gets really aggressive with Arthur but that’s just because Arthur matches his energy. I think he also talks a lot during sex, mainly giving affirmations and praise. With Noel tho- if he’s still human then they’re just having a teasing match. Noel likes to bring out the flirt and get under John’s skin, and John is trying so hard to keep up without just being an ass. Monster John and Noel tho? all bets are off and they’re getting real freaky with it. John still makes sure to be careful and check in often incase he does something that might hurt Noel. And Noel’s like sweetheart I don’t caarrrrreeee pleaassseeee get those tendrils around me. And with Oscar he’s verrrryyyyy careful. Like he could most definitely get more rough with him, but he doesn’t want to do something wrong and have Oscar never want to be near him again. So he’s real gentle, placing more emphasis on foreplay and closeness than actual sex.

and Arthur! the guy I think about the least somehow! sorry king! a switch that is a horny little freak at heart. He’s up for a lot of things and will be down to try anything if his partner thinks they’ll like it. He’s definitely got more of a dominant personality, and I think that’s verryyy evident with, surprise surprise, Parker! Those two had some wweiirrdddd dynamics going on and thought of flirting and sex like some kinda secret game they both wanted to win. Arthur gets manipulative sometimes, but only if he knows the other person would enjoy it. I think since he’s aro, he’s got less romantic attachment to sex, and thus just really likes having sex to unwind or have some fun.

OUG I RAMBLED TOO HARD SORRY I’ll leave

[tomorrowusa]

Ukraine is totally correct not to fall for phony agreements with Russia. Russia has a long history of not keeping its word – maybe that's why Trump is such a Putinphile..

Russia's invasion violated at least three major international agreements.

The 1945 United Nations Charter [Article 2, Section 4].

The 1975 Helsinki Final Act [1. (a) III and 1. (a) IV] by the CSCE which in 1990 became the OSCE.

The 1994 Budapest Memorandum.

Why should anybody trust Putin's Russia to observe any new agreements?

Tim Mak is a journalist working in Ukraine. He was formerly with NPR and The Daily Beast. This is from his Substack The Counteroffensive. He and two colleagues spoke with diplomat and international attorney Oleksandr Merezhko who participated in negotiations with Russia of previous ceasefires known as the Minsk agreements.

"I believed that [the agreements] could be implemented with good will... but Russia did not even try to achieve a result, they just wanted to use it for purely propagandistic military purposes to destroy Ukraine," Merezhko said. As February 2022 approached, when the full-scale invasion began, Oleksandr began to suspect that Russia was planning something more significant. After all, Moscow was increasingly spreading information online that Ukraine was violating the Minsk agreements. "Russia was looking for an excuse to abandon the ceasefire, accuse Ukraine of violating it, and then its hands would be free for full-scale aggression... We did everything to prevent Russia from having a chance to say that even if it was aggression, an attack, it was provoked by Ukraine," Merezhko said. [ ... ] The main problem is that the Russians were uninterested in a ceasefire and negotiations. They comply with rules and requirements only when it is to their advantage. "The Minsk agreements have once again confirmed that we cannot have anything to do with the Russians, because they are liars and never keep their commitments, or keep them only when it is in their interest. When [their] interest disappears, so do the obligations," Ukrainian diplomat and former foreign minister Volodymyr Ohryzko told The Counteroffensive. The main conclusion to be drawn from the Minsk agreements is that to negotiate anything with the Russians is to disrespect oneself, said Ohryzko. Therefore, the main argument in talks with Russia is strength.

Anybody who believes that Russia would observe a new agreement without Ukraine getting solid security backing from the West probably attended Trump University and bought a year's worth of Trump Vitamins.

The Russian word показуха generally means "window dressing" but can sometimes be used to describe a staged event. In that sense, that's what the Trump-Vance hissy fit in the Oval Office was.

I suspect that somebody told Trump that Ukraine got the better end of the minerals deal. The only way Trump could weasel out of it was to have a temper tantrum to keep it from being signed as scheduled.

As for Ukraine not being grateful, fact checkers pooped all over Trump's lies about that.

Fact check: 33 times Zelensky thanked Americans and US leaders

How often does Trump thank people? He probably never thanked the doctor who faked the diagnosis of a bone spur to keep him from getting drafted.

Back to 1994 for a moment. In the Budapest Memorandum, Ukraine gave up its nuclear weapons for secure borders. Now that Ukraine's territorial integrity has been violated, does that mean it's okay for them to have nukes again?

[mechanical-sunchild]

I don't deny that a science-based approach is fine for the cases above, but there are many kinds of physical alterhumans with many different beliefs. Not all are making claims of shapeshifting*. Is there really no room for discussion of physical-based alterhumanity as truth of any kind, due to the actions of groups in the past and this 'need' for evidence?

I feel *this is a factor which is repeatedly ignored even when directly brought up. Many of you here seem to have a problem with this specific kind of physical nonhuman - the one who claims they can, have, will etc shapeshift into their true form - and only really talk about them as reason why all physical alterhumans require the same treatment.

But what about those who are not saying they have shapeshifted or can shapeshift?

To go back to an earlier statement. There are trans people who say things like; "I am a woman, therefore I have a woman's body. I am a man, therefore I have a man's body." They are speaking in a possessive sense but saying something about their physical perceptions of self too. Would it not be considered rude to tell them 'well actually, scientifically speaking, you are not what you just said. You are physically not a woman/man but it's fine that you see yourself as one internally'.

I'm sure many trans people have personal stories where their mental health was worse when they also made themselves believe that one day they would just wake up in the right body, but our personal experiences should not be applied to every person who experiences a similar thing.

The metaphor is not exact though, of course. I only call back to it because it was used previously.

But let's think of the physical alterhuman whose entire physical claims are the same.

"I am an android, therefore I have an android's body." as I see myself, in fact. I can't prove to you, I suppose, that this is beneficial to my own mental health and not a negative. I know this is scientifically impossible and not technically 'real' in that sense, but I can't stop the way my internal perceptions of self have influenced how I perceive my body too. Holothere is a world that I choose for myself so I can express this. Shall I just not talk about this aspect of myself because it can't be externally scientifically proven? Shall I just pretend I only feel like an android on a non-physical level for the comfort of others? That feels terribly unfair. Other words for what I feel do not match me.

Let's think of the physical alterhuman who believes they have nonhuman ancestors, and therefore are nonhuman themselves because their DNA is nonhuman.

Yes, this is not scientifically provable and never will be. But it is also based on their specific cultural and/or spiritual beliefs in nonhuman ancestry being possible and what influence that would then have on their own self. It feels rude therefore to assume we have the right to tell them that they are wrong due to 'lack of evidence' -like an atheist demanding proof of God before they'll respect a religious person- and should either refer to their experience by a new name which doesn't make call to the physical difference they internally perceive/believe, or else stop talking about it completely.

Let's think deeper, I've seen physical alterhumans who say they are completely physically their 'type, but a magic spell or glamour is stopping it being detectable, perceivable etc by anyone or anything (including themselves). Yes, this line of belief does have the capacity to become dangerous. But it also has the capacity to be entirely beneficial to that person. We can't assume we know which it will be, but we can provide a community which doesn't cause them to go onto the defensive as people tell them to prove something they believe they cannot prove, based on an spiritual belief in magic. It does not involve blindly believing them, but it does involve allowing for them to express this belief openly without attack. In fact, you will drive more people into the arms of those who may turn this belief into something that harms them if you do.

The same goes for those who just say 'I literally have paws, I literally have a tail.' If this eases their dysphoria, the way a trans man may in fact harmlessly refer to his genitalia as a dick despite not having one yet, then who are we to tell them they're 'being dangerous' and 'need to prove it' before they can be left alone and not constantly be told they don't have these parts 'because science'.

Yes, absolutely monitor this person for signs of spreading the more harmful ideas behind p-shifting and absolutely make posts which guard and warn people about being manipulated into things which harm them. But if you see someone saying 'I literally have paws rn' and you see they don't have clinical zoanthropy and aren't talking about a delusion they're having (both of which should not be reality checked by randoms on the internet) you don't have to believe them but you also don't have to go on their posts and say 'No, you don't and I'm not interested in nor am I going to believe in any of the reasons why you may believe that your hands do in fact count as paws instead'. Or vaguepost about them or their experiences or things you're assuming about physical alterhumans.

On the other hand, and I know some physical alterhumans will hate me for saying this but yeah, our physical experiences are due to some internal perception changing how we view ourselves. It's not 'real' in a sense that the world will ever see it. It's real enough to us for sure, and it's literal to us for sure, but it's not literal or real by the laws of this world. But does it have to be, for us to be able to express it and talk about it that way? Many non-physical alterhumans say things like 'I am literally a wolf' and that's fine and nobody in the community tells them 'no you're not literally a wolf, your mind makes you believe you're a wolf. no you're not literally a wolf, your soul is just a wolves soul' and then makes posts about how annoying, dangerous and misguided people who really believe they're an animal are (the few that do are often kff or similar and not a major issue) with the irony being that our internal perception of self can be very easily manipulated too. Yet we understand that in most cases the person can be believed and trusted without harm!

We can change imperfect language amongst ourselves along the way, but the physical community can't thrive and get to that point of clarity whilst everyone else is being told to not even humour us. In fact, encouraged in a lot of cases to tell us what we believe is simply not real so we should stop talking about it completely. In many other cases, assuming we must be either victims or victims in the making, or the perpetrators of harm.

If you actually just want people to learn from past mistakes, to train themselves to not believe everything they see as true outside of those individuals realities especially if it's particularly wild, I feel we're going the wrong way about it by just telling physical alterhumans that they're wrong about their experiences and shouldn't be calling it 'physical' no matter how physical it feels. I'm also going to link kossai's post here for further reading.

And as a final note - I do hope we're all cool with clinical zoanthropes and endels - and don't believe that they are supposed to provide proof of their shapeshifting before they can express themselves. At the very least can we agree on that?

If you’re going to assert science in a community full of people discussing their scientifically unverifiable experiences I think you should consider what you’re really trying to say. If you’re not trying to call people liars then there’s probably a better way to go about making your point than enumerating the reasons why you think they’re lying.

[nerdishpursuits]

Haven't ranted in a while ... sorry about the typos and apologies to anyone actually reading this and falling asleep.

Don Augustin: time for the holy inquisition

Marta: we’re out in the open … do you mean outquisition?

Don Augustin: let’s talk about the flowers and the bees

Marta: it’s winter (and the only bee in sight is my practical, little engine-that-could, beetle)

Don Augustin: sex is solely for procreation and, also, are you pregnant

Marta: I’m PRO creating anything (with Fina and only Fina - in fact, we love pollinating the flowers every chance we get)

Don Augustin: trafficking in bad-faith since 1958

M(harta): put the pedal to the meddle

On to The Ladies of Angst: the Fellowship of the Gays.

The enteral conflict between heart and reason. Reason tells Marta and Fina this is a way of securing a future together and safeguarding their love. The heart, however, is desperately clamoring for the opposite, even if it’s dangerous and would leave them exposed. What will it be?

The more the wedding approaches? The more devastating it becomes. Even for safety purposes and convenience only? It still means Fina has to helplessly watch the love of her life marrying someone else. It still means Marta has to wear shackles once more. What is the right decision anyway? It’s all so confusing, conflicting and heartbreaking and they’re doing a great job emphasizing it. This is a problem-solution that leaves no one unscathed.

After all, to have touched heaven only to be cast out, because the cruelty of people knows no bounds? Excruciating. Now that the snowball has turned into an avalanche, Fina and Marta need to trust each other above all else if they’re to survive it. Of course doubt abounds. Of course they’re torn, scared and confused. But their trust and communication has never wavered and it won’t do so now. In fact, they need to be more united than ever. It’s the only way to move forward and secure a future together. They’ll find a way, they always do. They are each other’s person, each other’s one and only. And they’ll face everything head on in order to be together. When it comes to each other, there is no going back.

Interrupting briefly so that someone (and by someone I mean Marta) can give Fina a hug. She desperately needs one.

I will say. I have my doubts when it comes to Fina trusting Digna with anything. The reason? They’ve not addressed the fact that she used information about Marta and Fina to manipulate Tasio. So, to me, it feels rather odd having Fina share anything with Digna at the moment (it's not clear to me what Fina knows about that entire fiasco). At this point in the story though? I suppose Fina's pain is growing too fierce and unmanageable and she needs an outlet. Needs to purge herself of some of it. That being said, their scene was lovely. Fina really needed to vent and was in dire need of both good advice and a motherly hug. Therefore, points to Digna for lending her support, understanding and wisdom, as contrary as she may be. She rose to the occasion and was there for Fina and Marta in a time of need.

However, who Fina really needs to vent with? Marta. Even if she feels Marta’s load might be getting too heavy. If anyone can grasp how she’s truly feeling, shares her fears and pain? That’s Marta herself. And she’d more than understand Fina's fears of inadequacy, of feeling overwhelmed and unsettled, insignificant even. This despair is a shared one and pretending it isn't? It's undoing them from the inside out.

Now that the wedding day is fast approaching, the consequences of this marriage are truly starting to sink in. Their time together will be limited, Marta will have to divide herself between her business commitments and, sadly, Pelayo's social and political engagements. And where does that leave Fina? Alas, as she fears, confined to the shadows, alone, waiting to be seen, endlessly waiting for her turn. Given the road ahead mostly signals conflict and heartbreak? It's paramount they communicate without holding anything back. This particular hurdle can only be overcome if they hold each other as tight as possible. Which means they need to have one of their serious heart to heart conversations, one where no avenue is left unexplored, no rock unturned.

And it’s not only Fina who desperately needs to unburden herself with Marta. Marta herself would greatly benefit from baring her soul to the woman she loves. She has, for the most part, managed the art of approaching her impending nuptials like the business deal it is: a cold and detached transaction with many strings attached. She even manages to look at Pelayo and see a friend, of whom she has precious few. However, Fina cannot and won't be able to tackle it all the same way. Fina's not been raised to wear an iron mask, like Marta has. She wears her heart on her sleeve and her sensitive nature is crumbling under the weight of it all.

Besides, Marta needs to let Fina be more involved with the wedding plans, if possible. Sure, she wants to spare her the pain of it all, but it achieves the opposite because Fina feels abandoned and left out, aimless and forgotten. Not to mention this entire thing is playing right into Fina's insecurities. That ever-increasing perception of being small and inadequate, of falling short in every way? Even if it's the furthest from Marta's intentions, it's constantly being reinforced. Fina doesn't belong to the same social class as Marta, doesn't have the same education, doesn't have a business acumen and her only remaining family is Marta herself, whom she can never claim as her wife. Everywhere Fina turns these days? The discrepancies between her world and Marta's have never been as bleak, the contrast never as stark. It’s debilitating and Marta needs to pick up on the distress signals Fina is sending, before it all reaches a crescendo.

And to rub salt in the wound? Leave it to Gema to exult Pelayo's virtues, bask in the class difference between the two families and Fina, then gloat about Isidro having driven both her and Marta to their respective weddings back in the day. Fina's pain while listening to all of that? Unbearable. It felt like watching the light being drained from her. Like @midniteowlet mentioned during one of our talks about the show, Fina is the kind of person who needs to feel involved, needs to feel like she's a part of something. To have her looking so dejected and despondent, then blaming herself for not being stronger? Holding herself accountable for not giving more when all she ever does is give? Getting knifed probably hurt less.

Not to mention she'll feel so alone and out of place at that wedding, on the outside looking in, surrounded by upper-class snobs, witnessing the love of her life marrying someone else. I suppose she can lean on Digna and Carmen, but this paints an excruciating tableaux.

Fina's light is gradually going out and it's distressing to witness. I suppose it's only a matter of time now before both Marta and Fina fall apart, one way or another. More so, they need to fall apart together so they can help each other back up, so they can heal each other from this wound. No one else should be a part of this process but the two of them. They think they are protecting each other by not giving voice to their fears. Nonetheless, it only serves to twist the knife further. Moreover, they know the moment they show weakness, they will come crashing down: all it takes is one word either of them may utter. They're so desperate to be strong for each other they forget their strength always comes from being vulnerable with one another. The dread and stress they are currently under is overwhelming. Way to drive it home with these angst-filled scenes.

I will say? With the exception of Pelayo being gay himself and his social status? There are a lot of parallels being drawn between the Jaime era and this one. Personally I do not think the writer's intention is to revisit old scenarios but to showcase character growth. Marta and Fina have learned from their situation with Jaime and won't fall prey to old patterns. Most likely, they will come together to plan, reassure and comfort. The current, angst-filled scenario is a tool to generate tension and suspense, to keep viewers guessing, wondering and pondering. Marta & Fina have been through a lot together and, as a consequence, they have grown both as individuals and as a couple. Therefore, I do not think there's any intention of recycling old story-lines, but to mark the difference between then and now. There's a before and there is, and will be, an after. They both know who they are and what they want. Any obstacles along the way, including miscommunications or latent fears? It's fuel for angst and character growth and the show has proven time and again how well it handles it when it comes to Mafin.

Special mention to Marta's frailty in confessing Sometimes I go to sleep dreaming that I wake up the next day in a world where no one cares that there are two people like us. It is exhausting to live in fear. Gut punch, writers, gut-punch. Kudos.

Oh well, I'm sure the show won't get as dark as we always think it will.

Ultimately, it never does.

Other thoughts, in no particular order:

After the marriage, Pelayo will go live with Marta at the de la Reina house? How they’ll manage anything with everyone underfoot? No idea. Given the kind of money these families have, this is rather mind boggling. But hey, the more, the scarier. The budget must be really tight. Nothing like living under the same roof as Jesús and Maria while trying to lead a double life. Marta, Fina and Pelayo need a house of their own. Anything else is pure folly. Marta needs to be in Toledo with Fina and close to the company, so it makes sense they would not change location. However, the de la Reina house shouldn’t be an option. The Mafinca is the solution, even if it means Marta & Fina's space won't truly be their own any longer. At least they’d have some modicum of privacy there. Anything but the casa grande.

Carmen not calling Tasio out on his bs and shady maneuvering? Disappointing. Maybe that this will come full circle later on? Or, novelita style, it won’t happen at all. It would be surprising if they let it slide entirely, because Tasio’s betrayal was no small thing. In fact, it upended the very way the business works and has thrown it all into disarray. And if Carmen keeps silent on this? It will be a hard pill to swallow and very unlike the Carmen we once knew. “Once” being the operative word. Her “what have they done to you now”? I cringed, not going to lie. I miss early-days Carmen. Her continued passiveness when it comes to anything Tasio? A let down. She thinks he's qualified for his current position, sans de facto qualifications, that he ought to know his new family's MO, which he doesn't and worst of all, that he should make good with Don Pedro to consolidate his position. It's not only disappointing but getting tiresome. It's as if Carmen's brain cells cease to function when Tasio is around and it's sad to see. Are we supposed to believe no one told her how Tasio got promoted to this current position, that she’s so utterly clueless? And add in the fact he still gave her shit for wanting to get her driver's license? If he sinks any lower he'll be wearing his shoes for a hat. And she’s not far behind. I mean, they have their moments but goodness ... cuesta arriba.

Be still my heart: the Merino bros defending Marta in front of Jesús? Have they had a shot of wisdom? Has hell frozen over? Will wonders never cease? It won’t last, of course. But hey. De las migajas, que el festín nos queda grande. And look at Don Pedro wanting to remove Joaquin from the directorship already, saying he's making a mess of things. How the turns are tabling.

Fina and Claudia’s friendship? I want more of it. Same for Claudia and Tita Manuela: they're so sweet. To be honest, I’m at the point I don’t miss Carmen at all. Not really. Let’s see where this all goes, shall we?

Damián and Pelayo's snippet from the preview? At this stage in the game? I don't think Damian would do anything to jeopardize his relationship with Marta. And that means he needs to look out for Fina as well, because she is Marta's world. Previews, as we all know, are purposefully misleading. I don't think this one is going to be the exception.

[reel-fear]

Genuinely so curious who Mike thinks is gonna be buying The Cage or the new DCTL GN bc with the way he tweets as far as he's concerned, it's not gonna be:

The queer people he has actively admitted he will never show any representation of in the games.

2. The POC he has actively fought against representing in his franchise. [Who he also mocked for thinking they would be represented in his franchise]

3. The Bendy fandom which has always been concerned with topics of diversity esp in the sense of queer people since its creation. Who he has responded to really poorly esp in regards to the GN.

4. The fans who critique him. [He blocked me for doing so lol]

5. His fans in general who he tweets about like this currently. [He's being vague about why people were mad at him or sent him 'nasty messages' because if you actually looked into why you'd see he was in the wrong. Either way, a very hateful way to speak abt ur own fanbase.]

Reminder while Mike is trash talking his fans he has always treated them rather poorly. The fans who won the fanart contest for Chapter 5 never got their posters actually in game due to it being rushed. Not only was chapter 5 a big slap to the face story wise, but it was literally so rushed he couldn't be bothered to add in the art his fans gave him for his game FOR FREE. [Meatly blames this on a crazy timeline, reminder him and Mike are the literal ceos of this company. The proposal of future updates here is also pretty cruel considering Mike nowadays happily admits he corrupted Chapter 5's source code and therefore literally can't update it At All currently. Because he is a moron]

At least they got to be in Boris and the dark survival, and by that I mean that was the Only game they got to be in so far, isn't that just treating your fans like you love them? Shoving their hard work into a spin off game almost nobody has played or addresses much. [Hell, who knows if with the Lone Wolf rebrand they'll even stay there. In which case they'll be in None of the games, only in the credits of BATIM]

6. The Bendy fans who just generally disagree with him on stuff. Like the new ink demon design where there is literally a public poll showing people generally prefer the old one.

7. The Bendy fans who can see he is actively lying to them. To their fucking faces.

He says this has always been the case, but screenshots and links to tweets regarding the books being canon prove it was not. Does he really think bendy fans are stupid or something? [Unless he's admitting here he lied to Kress when he told her the books were canon which sounds worse!]

8. Anyone who doesn't like the idea of giving money to a guy who laid off tons of employees then afterwards thought it was a great idea to express his anti-union views! Also brag about how good of an employer he was, according to his employees, he was not!

So in summary; Mike is an awful person who has not learned anything from the awful things he did. I will not be purchasing The Cage because, combined with this and his absolute refusal to take any kind of critique or see any differing interpretation of his franchise, I have no reason to think my problems with the franchise will ever be addressed or fixed. I probably will pirate The Cage along with any future Bendy Products [Including the movie] and will do my best to avoid giving it any kind of monetary support. Unless this changes any time soon, I can't see myself making anymore positive Bendy posts soon.

Mike has just managed to make it so hard to speak positively or optimistically of this franchise when he's so willing to broadcast how little he cares about it or its fans. I'm at the point where I refuse to pull any of my punches with my problems with it. What's the point of trying to play nice with my critique when either way the people creating it don't care?

So with this post, I want to invite anyone who feels similarly about the franchise to tell me, make a post or send an ask talking about how all of this makes you feel. It may not change how things are, but genuinely seeing other people share my feelings of anger makes me feel better. It feels nice to see when other people share our same concerns and worries. I'd also love to know if anyone else thinks they'll be avoiding purchasing Bendy products over this.

I'm not forcing anyone to participate in it nor trying to say anyone who doesn't supports mike but genuinely maybe if we can collectively decide to boycott things like the movie, graphic novel and The Cage... It might at least make the bendy devs acknowledge how much they have destroyed their own fandom's faith and trust in them.

The way Mike tweets about his actions like he had no control over why people were mad at him at least proves to me he takes NONE of it back nor regrets it. If you didn't know about his actions and only went off his tweets, you would be led to believe Mike has been needlessly picked apart by fans over things he couldn't control [or in his own words, had his words twisted and taken out of context]. That is not how you speak about your actions if you have actually learned better from them.

anyway, that has been my bendy dev callout post. This is an open invitation to anyone feeling similarly upset about the way the franchise is going to talk about it. It's genuinely nice to see how people feel about this and the more we talk about the more it's likely the bendy devs are forced to address our concerns. I don't think they will but hey, that's why I'm not gonna support them with my money anymore nor am I gonna be nice to them in any content I make critiquing Bendy. I mean I'm also basically making this post just in case anyone asks me Why I feel this way towards to bendy devs/as a way to respond to anyone who thinks I am too harsh in my critique in the future.

As always, it seems the best part of Bendy isn't actually anything about canon but about what the fan's are creating with the ideas Bendy failed to do anything interesting with.

Also the books, the books slap.

[arsenicflame]

Hornigold's Izzy was the worst, of course. A version of himself that never escaped that terrible place, who lived his life as little more than an object. He still has nightmares about all the things Baz told them, about all the things he didn't.

It doesn't really surprise him, after the first ones, not at its root. To be Izzy Hands is to be someone's after all, though seeing his own face on someone so fundamentally different to him never gets less weird. The people who these other Izzys attached themselves too often left him with more questions than answers. Jack's Izzy, he can understand, from a certain view, though the man himself felt like a fever dream. The less said about Stede's Izzy the better, he's never going to forgive him for the ideas he put in his Stede's head.

Then there was Sam's Izzy.

The first thing anyone noticed about him was that he was happy. He smiled and laughed without thought, and went through life with an ease Izzy didn't think he had ever felt. The crew took to him immediately, accepting him in a way they never did the other Izzys, and certainly not their own. They prodded him and asked him endless questions, and he took every touch without a flinch and answered every question without a hint of a grumble. This Izzy was free. He was open, unburdened, trusting. He was happy.

Sam's Izzy was the one that hurt the most to see. He could accept the worst that Hornigold could've offered, that he would have suffered and been broken. It was infinitely harder to see that he had a chance to be this happy. That it slipped through his fingers.

He's never looked back before, but now? Seeing what might've been? He can't stop himself from considering the possibility that maybe he made the wrong choice back then, going with Ed.

[girlivealwaysbean]

i think growing up is just life repeatedly sucker punching you and saying bitch you thought things were gonna better lmao no you're so naive and stupid for having hope in 20 years the world will be flaming bag of garbage and no matter how hard you work you'll get eliminated at some point

[medicinemane]

Sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy

You have... very very very very very very very very smart people you know, and they're say something that not only isn't true, but literally is as opposite of the truth as it's possible to be... and you'll... gently inform them "hey, it's actually a bit more like this" and then they just kinda... go on saying literally the exact same thing

I'm not sure if it's just that... I often feel like I must be very bad at communicating, or people must just not notice/ignore a lot of what I say, but... I don't know

Like dearest friend, you've said something as absurd as... I don't know, it's hard to say without saying it, but honest to god about as absurd as saying the United States was a part of the USSR, that level of completely getting it backwards

...and it just doesn't seem to matter when I try to explain it... I legit don't even know if you read what I said

Really end up feeling like I'm going nuts sometimes

[arolesbianism]

Everyday I see another youtube video or whatever say smth along the lines of "this character is badly written because they're unlikable/annoying/insert negative description here" and everyday I end up massively disappointed because I came here for analysis on the actual writing of a character not just a description of the feelings they made you experience

[sceletaflores]

I COULD PLAY THE DOCTOR (I CAN CURE YOUR DISEASE)

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, logan's pov, written with origins!logan in mind, nat veering dangerously closer to a/b/o territory with every passing day, rut cycles, oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), multiple orgasms, gratuitous amounts of dirty talk, p in v, rough sex, biting, hair pulling, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, one (1) single use of the word daddy, scent kink, pain kink, breeding kink ofc, knotting (don’t look at me…), squirting, porn w/ plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: don’t look at me…i don’t know how many times i swore up and down i’d never write something like this but i’m a confirmed liar apparently so…here. i mean i just figured i'm in a rut artistically so therefore the only answer is writing logan in a rut physically...i can do what i want and i don't need to explain myself or my horny thoughts. also, i debated posting this in the wake of everything that's gone down over the past two days that is still escalating and will continue to escalate in the coming weeks, but i think everyone could use a little escape from how scary things may seem right now. take a break from all the terrifying news sites and read about logan wanting to breed you :) kisses!

divider by angel @saradika-graphics!

it's been another six months, and logan needs your help...

The burn starts on the walk home from work, a pulse of heat deep in Logan's gut that grows with every step.

It spreads slowly, sinking into his muscles and seeping up his spine as he rounds the last corner, your place less than a block away now.

It caught him off guard this time, an itch burying itself under his skin earlier in the day only to get worse and worse as he worked.

He usually knew the signs well enough to feel them start creeping in, and he was dead sure it wasn't for another few weeks.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Logan’s jaw clenches as he picks up his pace, every nerve ending in his body straining to break into a full blown sprint at the thought of you, all alone and waiting for him.

His fingers curl into tight fists, nails pressing into his palms to ground himself, though it’s hardly enough. The faint scent of you drifts up from his shirt, not even a long day at the lumberyard enough to drown it out.

By the time he reaches your door, his heartbeat is a heavy thud in his ears, syncing with the building ache of desire wracking through his body like the earth rattling boom of a raging thunder storm.

He fumbles through getting his key into the lock, hands unsteady as he tugs the door open with a little more force than necessary and finally steps inside.

The second he closes the door behind him, the heat surges, thrumming through his veins and flooding his chest. Your scent fills the air completely, stronger now, wrapping around him so thick and sweet.

"Darlin'?" His voice comes out rougher than he intends, but he's beyond caring.

Your voice floats from the other room, casual, warm enough to send a jolt through him. Logan drops his axe from his shoulder, leaning it against the door as he starts down the familiar path to your bedroom.

You're spread out on his side of the bed—oblivious, curled up with a book, wrapped in one of the flannels he must have left the last time he stayed over.

Just the sight of you does something to him, like a match dragged against a strike pad, damned on setting everything ablaze.

You glance up, and the soft smile on your lips falters as you catch sight of him.

Logan knows what he must look like, his eyes all dark and predatory, chest heaving as he rakes his hungry gaze over you like a wolf watches a lamb grazing too close to its den.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just stalks toward you with a purpose that’s as undeniable as the heat pouring off him in waves.

The book slips from your fingers, forgotten, as you lean back, the small sound of your breath hitching under the weight of his gaze is music to his ears.

Logan pauses at the edge of the bed, towering over you, letting himself drink in the way you look. So soft and serene, like some kind of invitation that begs him closer. His flannel draped loosely over your shoulders–shrouding you in his scent. 

The urge to pounce on you fights against his normal instinct to savor every second, to draw it out until the heat pooling in his gut becomes downright unbearable.

“Been thinkin’ about you all damn day,” he mutters, voice thick and dark as molasses, rough from restraint he’s quickly losing. His knuckles brush against your thigh, then tighten, holding you in place as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. “Thinkin’ about what I was gonna when I finally got my hands on you.”

Your skin blooms with warmth beneath his touch, and he grins against your neck, the edge of his teeth grazing you just enough to make you squirm. He growls low in his throat, that itch he’s been fighting nearly all day clawing its way up to the surface with a vengeance.

The primal urge inside of him screaming to claim claim claim take take take mate mate mate breed breed breed.

You tilt your head to the side with a soft sigh, freeing up more space for him to nose along your skin. “Is it time?”

Logan's breath catches as your question hangs in the air, thick with anticipation. The soft simplicity of it ignites the wildfire burning in his gut, every ounce of restraint slipping away like sand through his fingers.

“Yeah, baby,” he growls, slipping his fingers under the worn cotton of your shorts, feeling the bare skin beneath. “It’s time.”

You shift, hands going to the buttons of his flannel like you’re going to take it off. Logan stops you, taking your wrists in his free hand.

“Don’t,” he breathes, shaking his head hard enough that his hair flows with it. “Leave it on.”

The thought of you covered in his scent, of his scent mixing with yours to claim you on a level only he can discern sends his mind buzzing.

You look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and something in him cracks wide open. The tenderness of your gaze pulls at him, like a tether pulling him back from the edge, but that heat still smolders in his blood, fierce and unyielding.

Logan runs his thumb along the racing pulse of your wrist before he drops them. His hands venture lower, fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, tracing a deliberate path that makes your body tremble under his touch.

You let out a shuddering breath, the scent of your arousal swirling through the air is enough to make him crave more.

In one rough tug, Logan yanks you towards the edge of the bed as he falls to his knees. Your hips held tight in his hands as he lurches forward, burying his nose in the soft junction where your leg and inner thigh meet.

He inhales deep, greedy lungfuls of your scent. A guttural growl rumbles through his chest, his eyes screwing shut at the sheer amount of too much that courses through him. He feels dizzy with it, high on the pheromones pumping from you in waves.

You’re soaked already, the wet fabric of your shorts melded to the shape of your cunt. He can’t help but run his nose along the slick seam of you, reveling in the way your legs twitch on either side of his head, in the short gasp you let out.

“Logan.” Your voice is nothing but a mewl, pleading and desperate.

“Missed you,” he rasps, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. The edge of need in him makes his hands shake, sliding up your thighs, urging them even further apart as he settles between them.

Logan’s fingers dig into your skin, he lets his thumbs brush up, hooking them into the waistband of your shorts to tug them down your legs in one sharp yank. He groans at the sight of you completely bare, no underwear.

“Fuck, look at you,” he grates, his thumb coming down to slip through your dripping cunt. Your hole flutters desperately around him, needy little clenches like it’s trying to suck him in. “She’s all ready for me, huh? Been waiting for me to come home and give her some attention?”

“Please,” you whimper, your voice thick with longing, the sound going straight to his head, clouding his thoughts. 

Logan’s pulse races as he watches your body arch instinctively toward his touch, the desperate need in your eyes igniting the raw urges coursing through him.

He can’t deny you; he never could. You’re a feast laid out before him, and he’s starving.

Logan leans closer, letting his tongue flick out to taste you like he’s wanted to since he left for work this morning. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, closing his eyes and losing himself in the moment. He licks a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit, savoring the way your body responds, the way your legs tremble and your hips twitch against his mouth, seeking more. “Tastes like fuckin’ heaven, sweetheart.”

The taste of you is intoxicating—sweet and tangy, flooding his senses with every drag and swirl of his tongue.

Logan can’t help but moan against you, the sound vibrating through your body as he dives deeper, his nose nudging against your slick entrance as he shakes his head back and forth like an animal—rubbing the plush skin of your inner thighs red and raw with each rough drag of his coarse beard.

Every flick of his tongue sends a shockwave through you, and he revels in the sounds you make—each whimper, each moan, a siren’s call urging him deeper. He laves his tongue around your clit, sucking it gently, pulling at it with his lips as you writhe beneath him, begging for more. 

He keeps your thighs spread wide, two strong hands pinning them to the mattress so he can devour you just the way you deserve, the sharp dig of your heels into his shoulders only spurs him on.

Your hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groans into you, letting his tongue delve deeper, seeking out every bit of sweetness he can coax from you. 

It’s pure sin, each sound you make, each shiver that runs through you as he takes his time, drinking you down like a man starved. 

The ache in him intensifies, his own need growing, pulsing. He’s hard, has been hard since he walked through the front door.

His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans, need pulsing in time with each pump of his blood through his shaft, circling around the base, threatening to expand even without the tight grip of your pussy surrounding him. His hips jerk up on their own volition, desperate for any friction.

“Just like that, Logan,” you gasp, voice breathy and trembling with pleasure. 

The way you say his name—raw, desperate—makes his blood run hotter. He grips your thighs tighter, anchoring you to the bed as he drinks you in, wanting to lose himself in you completely.

Logan pulls away just long enough to catch his breath, looking up at you with lust-drunk eyes, drinking in the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your heavy-lidded gaze, the way your chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath.

The pulse of his cock intensifies, urging him to speed things along. The base desire of his own instincts is getting harder and harder to ignore under your adoring stare.

He feeds his fingers into your clenching hole with no warning, a satisfied smirk tugging his lips up at your sharp gasp. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, the entire lower half of his face still shining with your essence.

Your cunt swallows him, two thick fingers sinking into the velvety heat like it’s nothing.

Logan groans as he feels you clench around him, your walls fluttering and drawing him in deeper. “That’s it, baby,” he mutters, his voice hoarse with need. “So fuckin’ ready for me, so ready for daddy’s fingers in your pussy.”

Your mouth drops open in another devastatingly desperate noise, your hands twist his hair roughly, soft breasts rising and falling each time you gasp for air. The dim light of the sunset filters in through the blinds, highlighting the curves of your body, slick and shining with a thin sheen of sweat.

Every clench of your walls around his fingers shoots a thrill straight to his cock, making him ache with the urge to bury himself inside you. The overwhelming need to take you completely, to mark you and fill you, pulses through his veins until he feels like he might explode.

But he’s not done tasting you yet. Not until you’re practically dripping onto the sheets.

He lowers his mouth back to your core, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers pump faster. The sudden intensity makes your thighs shake around his head, and he grins against you. He wants to see you fall apart—wants to feel it.

“Logan—please, I…” You can barely get the words out, voice breaking as your whole body strains against him, desperate and needy.

The wet slap of his palm against your spit soaked cunt is loud in the quiet of your bedroom, blending with the loud keens that fall from your parted lips. He crooks his fingers, rubbing at that soft, spongy spot inside of you.

“Come on,” he mutters, slick lips brushing against your clit as he speaks. “Give it to me, baby. Show me you're ready for my cock."

He drags the sharp edge of his canine against your pulsing clit with barely any pressure, and you're coming.

Your whole body tenses, back bowing off the mattress as you let out a broken cry of his name. The bite of your nails digging into his scalp feels harsh enough to draw blood, a feeble attempt at grounding yourself against the onslaught of pleasure. 

Your trembling thighs tighten around his shoulders, gripping him like a vice as your shaking cunt gushes around his fingers. Logan groans at the feeling, eyes slipping shut as you drench his wrist and chin in your juices.

Even then, he doesn’t let up, fingers pumping relentlessly as he draws out every pulse, every aftershock of your climax, every tiny spray of your release splashing against his wrist. 

He’s lost in the feel of you—slick and trembling under his hands, the scent of your release filling his lungs, thick and intoxicating.

You slump back against the bed, body limp and spent. His own need is a driving, aching force now, clawing at his insides, demanding more.

He slips his fingers free from your dripping heat, dragging them through the wetness coating his chin as he licks them clean with a growl, savoring every taste.

“Good girl,” he purrs, voice thick with pride and satisfaction as he pulls back, leaving your thighs twitching in the wake of his touch. But he still isn’t finished. Not even close.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Logan crawls up the bed, his eyes locked on you, pupils blown with need. He looms over you, hands planting on either side of your head. His cock grinds against you through the rough denim, and you can feel just how thick and hard he is, throbbing through the fabric, demanding to be freed.

With a low groan, he shifts his hips, dragging his bulge along your soaked cunt, sending another jolt of pleasure racing through you. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist, hot and possessive.

“Feel that?” he asks, pressing his lips the wild flutter of your pulse, the need to sink his teeth in the soft skin of your neck raises the hair on the back of his neck. “That’s what you do to me baby. Got me hard as a fuckin’ rock, just aching to be inside you.”

Your arms circle his shoulders, clawing at the fabric off his shirt. “Need you inside me, Logan. Please, want it so bad.”

The pure need lacing your words, your scent calling out to him, the way he can feel the front of his jeans getting soaked through with the slick pouring from your cunt all pull him deeper into the recesses of his hind-brain. 

The mounting desperation to stuff you full of his cock finally reaches a fever pitch.

With a deep growl, Logan rears back as far as he can bear, just enough to tear his shirt over his head before he fumbles with the heavy buckle of his belt to free his aching cock.

He shoves his jeans down, boxers quickly following until there’s nothing separating him from the cool air of your bedroom. His cock springs free, hot and flushed an angry red color, drooling from the tip enough that it drips down to stain the pretty floral sheets of your bed.

Your eyes zero in on him, mouth dropping open at the sight. His cock so heavy it doesn’t curve upward to slap against his stomach, instead it hangs down to sway between his thighs as he moves closer. 

Your legs spread as he nears, slick covered thighs parting to make room for him to slot between them. So obedient, so good, so well trained.

Logan takes himself in his hand, nearly wincing at the blazing temperature of his skin. He secures his hand around the base, squeezing where his knot threatens to pop before he’s even got in you.

He slips the angry head through the folds of your cunt, slapping it against your clit with a wet ‘thwack’ sound. He can feel the way it twitches and shakes, just as desperate as him.

“Look at that,” he mutters darkly, eyes glued to where he’s laid his cock flat against your stomach, leaking pre-come all over your soft skin. “How’s it gonna fit, baby?” He shifts his hips, sawing his length back and forth to see just how deep in you he’ll be.

Your glassy eyes drop, a broken moan passing through your slack lips when you take in the sight. Your hips rise off the bed, grinding your cunt along the seam of his heavy balls, along the prominent vein trailing up the underside.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Logan grits out, eyes hooded and dark as he watches you grind against him. “You’re gonna take it all. Gonna make you feel every last fuckin’ bit of me.”

He groans, gritting his teeth as he presses in further, each inch a battle against the tight, molten heat that grips him like a vice. Your body shudders as he fills you, your slick warmth pulling him deeper and deeper, and he sinks down until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with yours. 

The pressure is mind-numbing, your walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that make his vision blur. He stills for just a second, savoring the way your body stretches around him, hugging him in a way that feels like it was made for him alone.

Logan watches your face as you adjust to the stretch, your brows pinched together, each breath coming fast and shallow, your eyes glazed with pleasure.

Then, your hands come to his shoulders, nails digging little crescent moons into his skin as you nod your head, ready.

It’s all the confirmation he needs. His hips pull back before he slams in again, the force of it jolting your whole body. He presses his forehead to your shoulder, teeth bared as he muffles a snarl against your skin.

Logan thrusts again, and again, and again, hips setting a merciless pace as he watches the way your breasts bounce with each thrust, each little shudder.

His mouth waters with the need to taste, to sink his teeth into your supple skin hard enough to pierce clean through, hard enough to scar.

Sweat drips down the length of his spine, across his brow. It mats down the hair scattered over his chest, his dog tags slick with it when they bounce off his skin with each thrust. The grip of his hands tightens on your hips, it’s taking everything in him to hold back and yet he knows you’ll still bruise tomorrow. 

Pretty hues of dark purples and yellows in the shape of his fingers, ones he’ll catch you admiring in the bathroom mirror, pressing your own fingertips into them to feel the dull ache—to remember this moment.

“Made for this, aren’t you?” he rasps, his voice dark and possessive. “Made to take me, to be mine.”

The words barely leave his mouth before he’s bending down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries as he drives into you, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge.

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp, breaking the kiss as your body trembles under him. “Can–ah!–can feel you in my stomach…”

Your hand drops from his shoulder, slipping between your bodies to rest over the sweaty expanse of your belly. Logan’s eyes follow your path, a feral growl bursting from his chest before he can stop it.

He’s transfixed by it, sure that if he pressed his hand to the soft skin of your lower stomach right over your own, that he’d feel it. Feel the way his cock punches up against your insides, so deep it's like he’s rearranging your guts to make room.

“Fuck.” His voice is nothing but a gravelly rumble, hoarse and dark as midnight. His hips speed up impossibly faster, chasing the feeling of your clenching walls choking the length of his cock so tight he thinks it might snap off at the base.

The flimsy headboard of your bed slams against the wall, creaky mattress springs screaming under his ministrations.

You feel like salvation, like the first rays of light after too many years spent in the dark.

He feels it with each kiss of his cock against your cervix, in the way your lips fit in the junction of his neck, in the red welts your nails leave on the skin of his back. He feels alive, truly alive, for the first time in decades.

“Say my name,” he grates, his hand cupping the back of your neck, coaxing you to look up at him, lips close enough to taste the heat radiating from his skin. “Tell me who you belong to.”

"Logan," you gasp, your voice breathy, edged with desperation as he pushes you closer to the brink. "Yours. Only yours."

A broken, shaky noise falls from his lips as he buries his face in your neck. He mouths at your skin desperately, presses his nose to where your scent is the strongest. 

Flashes of his release spraying your insides play behind his closed eyes, thoughts of drenching you so thoroughly that it has to take only forcing his hips to slam against the rippling muscle of your ass like you have your own magnetic pull. He feels it building, the slow swell of his knot presses against your folds, ready to burst.

“Come on, honey,” he begs, thumb coming down to rub slow circles over your slick clit. “Come with me, soak my cock. Show me how much you love it, how much you love me.”

Pathetic little uh uh uh’s fall from you with every thrust, broken up only by the breathy whines of his name as he pounds into you hard enough to push your body higher up the mattress. Finally, with a loud roar, he stuffs his growing knot inside of your cunt. 

Logan’s teeth sink into your neck before he can even think twice about it, the thick spray of his come filling you as his hands pull your hips down even further over his cock. He needs to be as deep in you as possible, to press forward until he can’t anymore, until his aching balls are flush with your gushing cunt.

He watches with rapt attention as you come with a loud wail, just from the feeling of his knot slotting into place. The clamp of your thighs over his hips is nearly as tight as the way your cunt seizes around him like it’s scared he’ll leave.

He groans at the over stimulation of your cunt milking his cock. Your slick leaks around the base of him, your shaking hole plugged so full it can only slip along the creamy ring to splash weakly against his thighs and hips.

Logan licks along the spot where his teeth pierced your skin, planting one last kiss before he’s taking you in his arms and rolling onto his back atop the mattress. The plush comforter sticks to his skin, your own sweaty body slipping against his as he tries his best to not jostle you too much while keeping you stuffed full of his cock.

He holds you to his chest until your breathing evens out, until your body stops trembling on top of his, until you’re nosing along the column of his neck.

“Logan?” Your voice is tiny, hoarse and scratchy. He feels your hand drawing absent minded shapes along the skin of his stomach. A circle, a star, a figure eight, a heart.

“Yeah baby?” he says, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, eyes slipping shut at the content feeling that spreads through him.

“Love you,” you murmur, voice soft but sure, the words slipping out without hesitation.

It’s the first time you’ve said it today, and hearing those three words from you sends warmth flooding through him.

Logan shifts slightly, pulling you even closer, his hand moving to the back of your head, cradling you with a kind of tenderness he used to think he’d never be capable of. “I love you too, darlin’. More than you know.”

Your body relaxes against him, the lingering effects of your shared intimacy still buzzing through your limbs, but now there’s a sense of peace, of safety, and a deeper connection.

He can feel the way your fingers curl lightly against his skin, the quiet smile that must be tugging at your lips as you press a kiss to the side of his neck.

And in that moment, with everything settled around him, Logan knows that this, right here, is everything.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[deathbxnny]

Arcane characters when someone flirts with you. | Viktor, Jayce, Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Sevika x Gn!Reader

I am the brain rot. The brain rot is me.✨️

Content: pre season 2 Viktor/Jayce!, Jealousy, pitfighter Vi, established romantic relationships, angst, threats of violence/death threats, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

He always struggled with self-esteem issues, mainly due to his sickness and disability that made it difficult for him to do much. A part of him forever will believe that you could easily do better than him, yet that doesn't stop him from getting terribly jealous anytime someone gets too friendly with you. Especially when they can see him standing next to you clearly being your partner as well.

But despite his insecurities, he doesn't allow anyone to harass you either on his watch. He lets you defend yourself for the most part until he has enough and lets his more sassy side handle the flirtatious person for you. He may not be able to do anything in a physical way, something he very much would rather avoid. But his tongue is sharp, and it takes little to make them quickly scurry away with a nervous apology for the disturbance.

He'll never admit to being jealous, however, and denies any teasing accusations you send his way. But he'll secretly ask for reassurance as he starts feeling embarrassed over his insecurities rather quickly after. A couple of hugs and kisses from your side will fix that right up, though.

》JAYCE

He has a reputation to keep up. And so, technically, he should always handle things professionally no matter what. People are watching him after all, and his public image can not be tarnished under any circumstance... or so he says. Things change in his mind when they are about you. In general, people know who you are and who you belong to since he rarely shuts up about it.

But every now and then, someone who is somehow unfamiliar with this concept will come up to you and attempt to woo you right in front of his very eyes. Now, Jayce tries to let you handle yourself, but doesn't hesitate to step in either if the person doesn't get the hint. His rather intimidating frame and position as a councilor help him out Immensely with this. He chases them away with a tight smile and a kiss to your head, as he casually asks how he can oh so graciously help them.

Once they leave, he'll pretend not to hear you, of you teasingly asking him if he was jealous. Him? Jealous? Hah! Impossible... okay, maybe a little. But don't tell anyone that.

》VI

As a pitfighter, Vi doesn't hesitate to get violent with anyone who comes close to the only good thing she has left in her life, which happens to be you. She's extremely protective and makes sure everyone gets the hint regarding who you belong to. But alas, there are always the couple strays that refuse to comprehend that fact and therefore attempt to "steal" you away from her. Something that never ends well for anyone.

Her temper is shorter than it used to be, and that becomes quite clear when she's quick to loom over the person that was pestering you. She knows that you can handle yourself just fine, too. But that doesn't stop her from grabbing their shoulder and asking them if she can help them out instead. Or maybe they want to talk it out in the pit? All the same to her, but the message is clear. She'll win if it comes to you every time, and that's enough to make the person scurry away in terror.

You'll definitely have to calm her down and reassure that you had everything handled. She's just looking out for you, though, and doesn't want you to get hurt, too, like everyone else in her life. The last thing she wants is to mess up again, so her overprotective tendencies will probably never lessen. Not that you kind anyways.

》CAITLYN

Your role as her partner is crystal clear to absolutely everyone in Piltover, especially after she takes over the troops as their new ruler. She's much more cutthroat and cold than she used to be before her mothers death, which made her extremely overprotective of you and your safety. She may even be suffocating at times with her security measures, but she finds it absolutely necessary. This also means, however, that those who try becoming a bit too friendly with you are always at risk of facing her wrath.

She doesn't hold back with her dismay and is quick to stand before you with a dark, stern glare directed at whoever was flirting with you beforehand. Caitlyn doesn't care if you can take care of yourself or not either. She'll take full advantage of her new position and power too, not hesitating to give the person that was pestering you a professionally worded threat that leaves them as pale as a ghost.

Admittedly, it's hard to tell if she's jealous or just worried in her own way. Before her mother's death, it may very well just be her being a bit jealous... but with her current position, she may also just be afraid to lose you too deep down. And she couldn't handle that.

》JINX

After Silco's death, Jinx's temper is milder than before due to her deteriorating mental health (if there was anything left of it to begin with). She's a lot calmer when handling situations and seeming more calculated than before, but that certainly doesn't quell the extreme abandonment issues in her at any rate. If anything, they've become much worse than before. This means that she'll cling to you and snap at anyone who nears you. No one is allowed to steal your attention away from her. No one can take you away from her. She just won't allow it when you're all she has left.

And so, she won't hesitate to use her gun on anyone who is pestering you. A death threat or two usually gets the point across anyway. Jinx will also let you handle yourself first, however though, knowing you can easily do that. But if things do get out of hand, she will step right to scare them away at best. She'd never kill anyone infront of you after all. She doesn't want to scare you away.

You'll have to reassure her of your loyalty a lot afterward, however, as her insecurities and issues can make her spiral fairly easily. Giving her a lot of attention and love makes everything go away, though, luckily.

》SEVIKA

She's very secure in your relationship and trusts you perfectly fine, which is why she rarely ever gets jealous. Why should she, anyway, when you'll always come back to her at the end of the day? Besides, people in the lanes know who you are and who you belong to, and most importantly, what will happen to their faces once she bashes them in if they ever harass you too much.

With that said, though, she typically lets you do your own thing and chase the person away yourself first before bothering to step in. If things get out of hand, then she'll suddenly be right behind you and tower over whoever it is that's not getting the hint. Blowing smoke right into their faces, she'll ask them if they have a problem, and if yes, then they should take it up with her outside. Although everyone knows she's the only one back afterwards. This usually does the trick.

Don't expect her to ever say that she is jealous, though, and hopes you know better, too. She knows you're loyal, as she certainly is for life and therefore doesn't worry about a thing regarding the strength of your relationship.

No one is better than her anyway.

[prokopetz]

Something that pops up in my notes from time to time is folks thinking I'm being excessively kind in my criticisms of Dungeons & Dragons, and I'm going to spin this off into a separate thread to address that without putting anyone on the spot.

First, if your own critique of Dungeons & Dragons is rooted in the idea that it's the Worst Game Ever, that speaks more to the limits of your experience than it does to anything else. Dungeons & Dragons in any of its iterations is far from the worst the tabletop roleplaying hobby has to offer – like, you have no fucking idea!

Second, I tend to be even-handed in my discussion of D&D's rules because, fundamentally, the rules are not the problem – or, at least, not the principal cause of the problem.

In many ways, the indie RPG sphere has never escaped the spectre of Ron Edwards, sternly pronouncing that the mechanical process of playing traditional RPGs causes actual, physical brain damage, and that this brain damage is responsible for the bad behaviour we often observe at the table. We don't say it that way anymore, but on some level a lot of us indie RPG designers still kind of believe it.

This is understandable. As game designers, we're naturally inclined to think of problems at the table as game design problems. When we see a problematic culture of play, our impulse is to frame it as something which emerges from the text of the game, and which can therefore be mitigated by repairing the text of the game.

Confronted with the obvious toxicity of certain facets of D&D's culture of play, we go combing through its text, looking for something – some formalism, some structure, some piece of rules technology – which we can point to and say: "this is it; this is where the brain-worms live."

The trouble is, this is not in fact where the brain-worms live. Certainly, the text of a game, particularly a very popular one, can have some influence on the game's surrounding culture of play, but that text is in turn a reflection of the culture of play in which it was written. The Player's Handbook isn't an SCP object, spewing infectious infohazards everywhere when you crack open the cover – hell, I'd go so far as to say that many of the problems of D&D's culture of play operate in spite of the game's text, not because of it!

Basically, what I'm saying is that I don't see any contradiction between being the sort of pretentious knob who writes one-page indie RPGs about gay catgirls talking about their feelings (which I am), and speaking favourably about this or that piece of rules tech from whatever flavour of Dungeons & Dragons is in favour this week (which I do), because I recognise that you can't game-design your way out of a problem you didn't game-design your way into.

The fact that one of the biggest problems facing the tabletop roleplaying hobby is something that can't be repaired by fucking around with dice-rolling procedures is a bitter pill to swallow for a lot of indie game designers, and I won't say I wasn't resistant to it myself, but it's something that's both useful and necessary to accept.

(None of this means that the text of Dungeons & Dragons in any of its incarnations is beyond criticism on other grounds, of course, and I've never been shy about highlighting those criticisms where they're warranted. The only way you're gonna arrive at the conclusion that I'm some sort of D&D apologist is if you're starting from the presumption that The Real Problem Is The Rules.)

[alexiroflife]

jjk men calling you annoying...

"hi! ik u have a few reqs to do and ur going on vacation but i was reading some of ur works and saw u did a headcannon for calling jjk men annoying. i was thinking what if u did the opposite w the jjk men calling reader annoying? if u dont decide to do this thats okay! cant wait to eat up your other upcoming fics <3" -anon

some angst, jjk men being assholes (except for nanami)

satoru, suguru, kento, choso, toji, sukuna

satoru gojo:

normally, satoru is the one that is considered to be annoying. every higher up, coworker, and student of his alike would agree that satoru’s personality is pestering on its own, for his behavior doesn’t align with the severity of the jujutsu world in the eyes of others.

satoru has never cared how others judged him, for he often takes to picking on others for the sake of getting a reaction. he enjoys lightening the mood of drab situations, therefore he’s tossing around inappropriate jokes during meetings, teasing utahime for the umpteenth time, or trying to force megumi into spending quality time with him while the sixteen year old does his best to pretend he doesn’t know him in public.

and with you, he’s far worse. satoru can not bear being away from you or your attention being focused into anything other than him for longer than two minutes, and he’s always making an excuse to abandon whatever he’s doing to be by your side. satoru is the very definition of clingy, and while everyone finds it annoying, you can not deny that you adore how the strongest glues himself to you as though he can not bear for the two of you to be parted.

those around him believe it’s impossible for someone as annoying as gojo to actually be annoyed by anything, but you know what pisses him off. you know that he can not stand the jujutsu higher ups and how they antagonize children who were given no choice but to live the lives they lead. he can not stand the way they order him around to carry out unfavorable tasks with no regard for his past experiences or the experiences of the students that he is meant to monitor. he can not stand the lectures, the judgmental tones, the expectation of respect when it is not given in return.

and he can not stand when he is forced to attend hearings or meetings with them, where he has to listen to them drone on and on about how irresponsible he is when satoru is the only one truly looking out for the good of all groups. they demand so much of him, yet treat him like trash in return. nothing peeves him off more.

he knows that you understand this about him as a jujutsu sorcerer yourself, but you have the tendency to be more tolerant of injustices than he is. what he means is that you know how to save face for the sake of your own sanity and pay the elders no mind whilst simultaneously making them think that you are in cooperation with them. you know how to feign manners and respect, which satoru does not bother to do.

consequently, when you tell him that the upcoming meeting that he has scheduled with the higher ups is one he should attend instead of skipping due to its level of importance, he can’t help but be irritated with you.

“i’m just saying, satoru,” you say into the speaker with your phone pressed to your ear. the blue eyed man is on his way to said meeting after you practically forced him to attend, and he’s not at all happy about it. “once you’re in there, you’ll be out in no time.”

“(y/n), somehow those pricks make a half an hour feel like two,” your boyfriend complained into the phone. you place your hand on your hip and look up to the ceiling.

“you’re being so pessimistic about it,” you sigh. “it’s gonna be worse the worse you talk about it.”

“no, it’s gonna be bad regardless because these higher ups don’t know up from down or left from right.”

you can tell he’s growing aggravated, which was the opposite effect you wanted this call to have. you lower your head and attempt to shift, to reassure him in a different way.

“it’s gonna be okay, toru,” you tell him. “you’re above these people anyway, no matter what the hierarchy at this school is-“

“if you really thought that, you wouldn’t have made me go.”

you frown. “you didn’t really have a choice with this one, you know that right? whether you like the assholes or not, the meeting itself is important. you need to be there.”

“i really wish you’d stop saying that,” he exhales, agitatedly.

“stop saying what?” you scrunch your face, hand falling from your hip. “that it’s your responsibility?”

“yeah, actually,” he snaps. “hell, you’re starting to sound just like everyone else.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you scoff. “satoru, i’m just trying to help you. sometimes you just have to suck it up and deal.”

“suck it up?” he repeats incredulously. “i suck it up every day of my life. everyone wants me to do something for them, but expects me not to have my own opinions in return and that shit doesn’t make any sense.”

“that’s not what i’m trying to say-“

“then what are you trying to say? to just go along with all the messed up shit the higher ups want me to do?”

“no.”

“then what?”

“to just attend a meeting for the sake of your job, satoru. my god, that’s all.”

he tchs, and you can imagine him rolling his eyes on the other line. “fine. whatever.”

“what’s with your attitude? i’m genuinely just trying to look out for you, like…?”

“you’re not helping, (y/n). you’re being annoying.”

his words sting, and you stand still in the hall to your classroom as you register satoru’s tone and accusation. there’s silence, and satoru knows that when you say nothing more, he’s crossed a line.

even so, he’s too heated currently to own up to it in this moment, so he lets the silence swallow you both as he walks.

“okay,” you mumble apathetically after a while. “bye, satoru.”

you hear him prepare to say something, but your thumb is already hiding the end call button.

throughout the next half and hour, you try your best to focus on teaching your lesson to the second years, but you find yourself struggling.

you understand satoru’s frustrations with the higher ups, but to take that frustration out on you is completely uncalled for.

and to call you annoying? for ensuring that he doesn’t further endanger his already shaky position with the the authorities over him? how ungrateful is that! how could he label you as a disturbance to him when all you’ve ever done was try to lighten his load?

you don’t understand it. and it hurts to know that one little thing in comparison to the plethora of clingy annoyances that satoru has the habit of displaying that you don’t even find aggravating is enough to send him over the edge.

you’re aggressively erasing your chalkboard at the end of your lesson when you hear the sound of air flushing and papers fluttering behind you. immediately, you feel satoru’s presence much to your displeasure.

“baby?” he calls you tentatively, though you already know full well that he is there in your vacant room. you don’t reply, continuing to swipe your eraser over the chalk. “baby, please don’t ignore me,” he sighs guiltily. “can i… can we just talk?”

“get out, satoru.”

you can physically feel Satoru’s mannerisms droop behind you, but you do not fall for it. he deserves your standoffishness, your unwillingness to engage.

“i just wanna talk, (y/n)… just five minutes?”

you clench your jaw, brows angling tensely as his earlier words run through your mind again and again. your pace picks up and your movements grow harsher.

before you know it, you feel the white haired man brushing behind you inches away, reaching a hand to your shoulder. “(y/n)?”

“stop!” you rip away, stepping back. satoru retracts his hand quickly, crystal eyes blown wide as he watches you. you slam your eraser down onto the ledge and hold your hands up. “just stop! you don’t get to be rude to me and then just come back around as if everything’s okay. what if I don’t want to talk to you?”

having removed his blindfold before coming here, you can see the pain and remorse circling in his gaze. “pretty, i didn’t mean to say what i said,” he starts again slowly. “i-i’m sorry, i was just overstimulated and angry- not even at you, and you were telling me to do something I didn’t want to do but had to do, then i…” he huffs. “i’m so sorry.”

you fold your arms and stare harshly at the board, brows twitching as satoru’s smooth, genuine apology flows through your ears.

when you still don’t say anything, satoru’s mouth tugs downward and his lashes fluttere prettily over his cheek. “it’s okay if you don’t wanna talk to me or see me right now. i was being shitty, and i didn’t mean it, baby. i just had to come and tell you that as soon as the meeting was over… and you were right. i needed to be there.”

you close your eyes. “why don’t you ever listen to me?”

satoru practically jumps when he hears you speak. “what did you say?”

“you never listen to me, toru,” you look at him desperately. “you always do what you want to do, and when i have to make you do something, you pout. is what i say really that unimportant to you?”

“no,” he rushes out, swooping in to stand before you so he can meet your eyes up close. “no, no, no. no, that’s not it.”

“then what is it?”

“i listen to you, baby. i do, i just struggle when you give me suggestions about work because we have completely different approaches. you play by the rules more and i do what i think is best even if it’s not what I’m told is best. which is okay. i’m not saying that either way is better than the other, it’s just that difference between us clashes sometimes.”

you hum.

“but that doesn’t mean i don’t listen, or don’t respect you, (y/n). i respect you more than anyone i know.”

“then you should act like it.”

“i know,” he pushed out his bottom lip, taking your forearms in his hands. “i know, i can be all over the place sometimes. i’m sorry pretty girl.”

you wish you could stay angry, but satoru’s touch almost instantly melts away the tension in your body. almost.

“please don’t call me annoying like that again,” you look over him. “seriously, that wasn’t nice.”

“never,” he swears. “i promise, never again. i don’t even know why it came out in the first time. please forgive me, baby, I’m sorry.”

you exhale, and before you can respond, satoru is ducking down and suffocating your face with a plethora of kisses from your forehead to cheeks and down to your jaw. murmurs of apologizes slip through as he attacks you, and you squeal as you try turn away.

“okay!” you shout, pushing at his chest. “i forgive you, get off!”

“i love youuu,” he lands a particularly long kiss to your nose. “so much. let me take you out tonight to apologize properly, pretty. will you let me?”

you stifle a smile, keeping your hands to your chest as you glare up at him when he pulls away with a grin. “fine.”

suguru geto:

suguru loves you dearly, truly he does, but he notices that the longer he is in a relationship with you, the more entitled you become. granted, he spoils the hell out of you because you’re his one and only, therefore he only feels it is appropriate to shower you with the unconditional love that he has for you.

you know that suguru rarely ever says no to you. hell, he doesn’t want to deny you of the things you ask of him because he should be the person that you always come to for anything. along with his girls, you’ve stolen his heart, and his love language is taking care of you - making you rotten.

so when suguru can not abide by what you demand, you pout and poke and prod and pester. in some ways, you remind him of how satoru used to behave in his company, so commanding of what you want from him in the most combative, brattiest way that it has him rubbing the space between his forehead with angled brows.

and the attitude on you is criminal. suguru knows he can not necessarily talk because his attitude is just as bad, but the moment suguru disagrees with you about something, you make it a point keep pressing the matter sassily.

there are a million things that suguru finds to be more of a pain to his peace than you, but he can not deny that when you get on his nerves, you truly tick him off.

suguru is known to have very little patience in general. he chalks it up to his occupation, having to deal with idiotic human beings all day to the point where it wears down his capacity for bullshit. he needs things to resolve themselves at his pace in order to feel as though he can go about his day, but when they don’t, it frustrates him to no end.

that is why when you fail to give it a rest after suguru has told you no four times now to getting lunch with you because he has business to take care of, he is beginning to lose his cool.

“(y/n),” suguru exhales your name in exasperation. he’s on his way out of the front door. “angel, you know i’m busy today. you’re usually a lot more understanding when it comes to my schedule, i don’t know where the disconnect is right now.”

you’re growing upset, for you’ve never enjoyed watching suguru leave, but for some reason you are feeling all the more sensitive to his departure today. the dark haired cult leader has been so busy lately that you and the girls have hardly been able to catch him for longer than five minutes when he’s home. you want to sit and talk with him, to at least have a quick thirty minute meal together, but he’s still refusing you, and you never fair well with being refused by geto.

“but suguru,” you curl your brows and gaze at him sadly. “I’m just asking for one day. that’s all, we don’t even need to be out long. i already have a place in mind that’s right around the corner from the group- i can even pick you up. you won’t have to worry about a thing. please, just this once?”

the hazel eyed man can not stand saying no to you, even more so when you look at him with such pleading in your eyes, but he’s told you a hundred times that he can’t do what you please today. as much as he’d love to go to lunch with you, there are no exceptions. he’s already pushing himself behind by trying to reason with you.

“the answer is no, (y/n),” he tells you with soft sternness. your frown deepens leading Suguru to walk over to you. he guides his hand to your waist and presses a kiss to your forehead in an attempt to make you feel better. “i’m sorry. i know things haven’t been the best lately with me being home, but i’m trying my best.”

you want to be more supportive, but you miss suguru. you do, and to feel like a second priority to a cult he doesn’t even like makes you upset.

you grumble incoherently under your breath and cross your arms. suguru feels your stature shift, and he pulls away to eye you. you avoid his gaze purposefully, and suguru instantly knows what’s going on with you.

“don’t start,” he advises as a warning. you don’t take well to the comment, the muscles in your face tightening as you go to ease away from suguru’s grasp. he doesn’t have time for this right now. “i mean it.”

“i’m not even doing anything,” you murmur, looking down as suguru examines you closely.

“you’re sulking.”

“okay, and maybe that’s because i don’t want my boyfriend to leave?” you snap.

“i know, (y/n). you’re acting like i want to leave too, but this is work.”

“and clearly work’s more important now,” you roll your eyes.

suguru shakes his head and pulls away with narrow eyes. “you’re being incredibly irritating right now.”

you freeze, geto’s words stabbing you through the chest like a stake to the heart. “what?” you repeat weakly, your grit having gone.

“you aren’t listening to me. it’s getting old and it’s irritating,” he says again, this time as he turns away and walks back to the door.

you stare at his back blankly. your heart hammers against your chest, and your face falls. normally when you behave a certain way that suguru doesn’t appreciate, he spends his time either circling back and trying to reach and understand or punishing you. but now, he’s just walking away with no intention of doing either. you expected more, and you hadn’t expected for him to outright call you annoying.

sure, you push a little too much sometimes, but annoying? all you want is him. is it annoying to desire such a simple thing?

“i’ll be home later, alright? we can talk about this when i get back,” he tells you, pulling the door open and allowing the sunlight to peer in. when you do not respond, he speaks again in annoyance. “alright?”

you still don’t answer, and this time he turns over his shoulder to see what is keeping you from giving him a verbal affirmation.

his face relaxes, however, when he says you standing silently with your hands at your sides. your gaze has turned to one of subtle embarrassment as you frown, mulling over suguru’s emotions in a less stubborn, more deflated manner.

despite suguru’s irritation with you, the moment he sees your discomfort, he’s flipping the switch in an instant.

slowly, he shuts the door again without a word. he figures it won’t hurt anyone to be another five minutes late, for he is the founder of the religious group after all. what he says goes, and he will not leave until this mild conflict with you is sorted out.

he walks over and takes your head in his hands, tilting your face up to reveal your big, shiny eyes. with another quiet sigh, he’s taking one hand and rubbing your shoulder as he holds your stare.

“i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” he tells you gently, immediately knowing what is plaguing you. “i’m just frustrated.”

“…frustrated with me?” you ask slowly.

he presses his lips together. “yeah, angel. i am a little bit,” he confesses honestly. while this isn’t the response you wanted, geto knows it’s the response you need to hear… even if you struggle to accept it, your head nodding stiffly but your eyes telling a story of humiliation. and he hates it. he hates how unhappy you look, but no good has ever come from partners lying to one another about how they feel.

“but,” you start as suguru’s swipes a thumb over your brow lovingly. “suguru, all i wanted was to have lunch with you. is that such a crazy thing? you’re hardly around anymore.”

“i know, (y/n), and no it’s not, but you’re not respecting the fact that while i want to more than anything, i can’t. not today,” he says once more. “i do this for you and the girls too, you know. it’s not just for me. any money i make is yours, and if i need to work my ass off to provide for you and our future, i will. and it’s not fair for you to throw a fit when i can’t drop all of that when you ask me to.”

it’s a hard pill for you to swallow, but you know that suguru’s point is more than valid.

you inhale and exhale deeply, his touch swarming you tenderly despite how he feels. “I’m sorry,” you apologize. “im sorry for pushing. i just want you here. it gets hard sometimes, you know?”

“I know.”

he pulls your face in to kiss your cheek softly, your hand going to cradle his wrists.

“and i’m sorry if you’ve felt neglected in any way, and for calling you irritating. there was probably a better way for me to say that.”

“it’s okay,” you mumble as pulls away. “i probably was being annoying anyway...”

geto smiles softly. “you were,” he chuckles, and you gap at him.

“suguru,” you frown and he laughs again.

“sorry.” the hazel eyed man leans in to capture your lips in a soft kiss before you can pour any longer, eyes gleaming kindly when he draws back. he at least does not look aggravated any longer, his features much calmer than before. “how about a day out this weekend? you, me, and the girls.”

your eyes light up. “really? you’re sure?”

“yeah, angel,” he nods. “i miss you all too, you know. you’re all i think about when I’m dealing with those monkeys all day.”

“…can we maybe go to the farmer’s market?” you suggest. “i wanna get some stuff to make a big dinner for us, and the girls want to get some flowers.”

“absolutely we can. sounds great.”

“thank you,” you smile, wrapping your arms over his neck and tugging him down into a tight hug. suguru laughs gently, sliding his arms around you. “i hope you have a good day today. i won’t pester you about work anymore.”

“okay, baby,” he rubs your back. “I gotta go now, okay? i’ll try not to be out late. i love you.”

“i love you too.”

kento nanami:

despite kento’s remarkable talent in serving you as your partner, he is still a human being subject to human emotions. when he’s annoyed with you, he doesn’t make it your problem. he simply makes it known that he is beginning to be plagued by the feeling, and though it hurts your feelings, you understand and give him the space he needs.

kento does not get irritated with you often at all. you are a gift upon his stressful life, and it’s difficult for you to pose as a source of stress when the rest of his life is already so anxiety-inducing. you’re his everything, and even when he does get ever so slightly annoyed with you, it’s never at the same level as other factors - like gojo. you don’t even begin to compare.

the only time nanami finds himself growing upset because of you is when you choose not to listen to or communicate with him.

nanami works hard to put your needs before his own and he is more than happy to do so. he feels it is the only way things should be, for as long as you are happy and well cared for, he is content.

however, there are moments when he does so that can come off to you as a tad overbearing. he cares for your physical and mental wellbeing, so that also comes with constant check ins about whether you’re eating properly or how much sleep you’re getting. it’s sweet, his persistent doting, but you don’t always fair well with how often he’s interrogating you about your lifestyle when he literally witnesses every second of what you do as your fiancé.

and of course, when you react poorly by getting even the slightest hint of an attitude or portray your own annoyance in a poor manner, nanami, who always tries his best to find a solution to problems if you are bothered by something, is bothered himself when you do not cooperate.

nanami is incredibly patient with you, and he tries his best to practice patient with you when he internally feels you are being unreasonable.

so he resorts to silence as he ponders what to do next. you’re both sitting at the kitchen table as tension swirls about. your knee is frantically bouncing as you glare ahead. you don’t like when kento does something to bother you, for everything he does is so perfect you feel like you don’t have a right to be bothered, and you rarely ever are. and you may try to hide when you’re upset, but nanami sees you so clearly. he knows you like the back of his hand, therefore, there is no hiding.

and of course, nanami would never grow annoyed with what you feel… it’s how you communicate with him when you feel a certain way. you shut down and make it impossible for him to talk through it, and as someone who likes to work through things while they are occurring, it’s a bit of a pain when you go quiet and refuse to give him anything.

now, you both sit rather annoyed with one another, for that is likely the only instance nanami will feel some sort of irritation sparked by you. the blonde taps his finger against the table with his legs crossed, unsure of how to move forward. he’s tried calling your name, tried asking you what’s wrong, tried suggesting anything he can do to fix it, but you, afraid to even further speak truth into your emotions, reply with shrugs and mute shakes of your head.

it takes at least another few minutes for nanami to rise slowly, fixing the collar of his shirt and clearing his throat you look up and see by his rigid posture that he is not in the happiest of spirits, and when you finally notice, you realize that he had been silent along with you for quite some time now, his series of questions having ceased.

“i am going for a drive,” he announces formally. you blink up at him, your knee still bouncing. his chocolate eyes meet yours with a hefty sigh. “i won’t be longer than forty minutes.”

forty?!

“…okay,” is the very first word you have said in a while, and nanami nods curtly. though he appears indifferent, his shoulders are tense, his jaw is taut, and a dent creases the space between his brows. you can tell by these signs that he has grown to match your previous feelings. “where are you going?”

“to clear my head. i don’t believe anything productive will come from the both of us sitting here like this.”

you furrow your brows. “are you angry with me now?”

“no,” he gathers his keys. “i am not angry. only, admittedly, a bit perturbed,” he says without looking at you.

you know that nanami had annoyed you first, but to hear him tell you so is humbling nonetheless. what reason does he have to be annoyed? what did you do?

“um,” you stumble. “why…?”

the prospect of you now trying to interrogate him after he had spent so much time trying to get through to you, or at least a word out, does very little to ease the man.

he lifts a hand, guiding his palm out to ease the conversation before it can escalate. “(y/n), i’m not in any state to talk about this right now. give me a bit and i will be back.”

his eyes find yours to ensure that you see that earnest in his brow hues, and your shoulders slump, your knee stilling completely.

“is that alright?”

you nod slowly. “yes. that's alright.”

kento nods again, swiping up his jacket from the back of his chair before stepping out of the door, clicking it shut behind him.

you reel in his absence, sitting in the aftermath. maybe you reacted poorly… but you couldn’t help it. you don’t always enjoy being overwhelmed with a series of questions from your boyfriend as though he is your doctor or father. sometimes you just wish to be.

you know he only does so out of concern. you know he loves you, better than anyone has ever loved you, but your reaction had been involuntary.

the look on nanami’s face only proved that you should have handled the situation differently. you hate when he’s upset, but that way of thinking alone is unfair. he likely hates when you’re upset too, and you shut down when he was trying to help.

as guilt swarms you, you retreat to the living room where you mindlessly flip through the tv channels, your focus elsewhere.

kento ends up returning hardly twenty minutes later. you look in surprise to the door as he enters with takeout in his hands. he looks up, his face a bit more relaxed as he enters.

neither of you speak as he kicks his shoes off at the door and makes his way toward you. he sets the bags of food down on the coffee table before you and slowly sits down next to you, hands to his thighs.

“i got us dinner,” he says as you shuffle to make room for him. the aroma of your favorite thai food fills your senses and makes you become rather aware to your hunger, for you haven’t eaten in a while.

kento sits with his forearm resting on his knee, his body facing you. you look away, embarrassed to even speak to him, though you do whisper a ‘thank you’ that is only audible to nanami because he is seated right beside you.

he reaches a hand out to hold yours, his other sliding over top to caress the back of it. “honey,” he starts softly. “I don’t want this to go on longer than it should.”

“you’re back earlier than you said,” you mention, looking down at his hands over yours.

“i didn’t need to be gone long to want to sit down with you about this again.” you nod. “are you okay?” he asks you, and you nod again.

“yeah, are you?”

“i’m better,” he answers. “my intention was not to leave on a bad note so abruptly. i just needed a moment to myself.”

“no, i understand, ken. i don’t blame you for taking a step back.”

“are you okay with me telling you why i was upset?”

“of course i am.”

he gives a gentle smile before proceeding. “it seems that every time i try to work through something with you, you do not wish to cooperate. if you were to tell me that you need space before explaining, i would understand better and give you time, but you say nothing. you barely even look at me, and i try my best to give you the patience you deserve but you do not do the same for me.”

“it’s not that- I wasn’t trying to be impatient with you, it’s just that sometimes i don’t want to talk about things.”

“then I would prefer it if you’d say that instead of shutting me out, because then i’m left to pick up the pieces with nothing to go off of,” he pleads. “and it’s unhealthy for you to harbor everything that bothers you inside. you could get sick doing that, and it hinders our communication.”

you can tell he is about to give you another lecture, which is what led you here in the first place. you take in a deep breath and try to regulate yourself, glancing down. “yeah, i hear you,” you mutter. “i just get… i don’t know, it feels weird to tell you when something you’ve done bothers me.”

“why, sweetheart?”

“because you’re so good to me,” you frown. “you don’t deserve to hear that i’m upset with you for probably no reason.”

“look at me, honey.” you oblige, locking eyes with his once again shyly. “as good as i am to you and you are to me, getting angry or upset or irritated with one another is normal. it’s healthy. no relationship is free of trials, and if this is our worst problem, i’d confidently say that we are doing quite well.”

you listen to him carefully, taking in his words as you look over his face.

“now, will you tell me what it was i did to upset you earlier?”

“it’s so stupid, ken.”

“your feelings are not stupid. please. i need to know so i don’t repeat my mistakes.”

you huff and eventually give in. “well, sometimes... you do this thing… where you lecture me… and i appreciate you looking out for me all the time, but sometimes when you ask me a hundred things at once about stuff that I’m more than aware of as an adult, it makes me feel like you’re patronizing me.”

a stern look of realization crosses the blonde’s features. “i had no idea.”

“i mean… i never told you, so i was getting upset with you for something you weren’t even aware of,” you exhale. “i’m really sorry, kento. I struggle with communicating certain things, and i shouldn’t have allowed myself to get so irritated in the first place.”

“there’s no need for you to apologize,” he dismisses. “i apologize for making you feel as though I’ve been speaking down to you. i only check in so often because i care.”

“i know,” you lean in. “and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“but i can see how it may be a bit overbearing,” he admits. “i’ll try to mind myself in the future.”

“oh, it’s okay, ken,” you lift your hand to his cheek, smoothing a thumb over his cheekbone. “you’re perfect, baby. i’m sorry if i made you feel otherwise.”

“i am far from perfection, my love,” he kisses your inner palm. “i make plenty of mistakes.”

“so do i, clearly,” you chuckle.

he smiles again, and this time it reaches his warm eyes. “yes, but the way i see it, you would not be perfect without them.”

choso kamo:

choso, bless his heart, has never found anything you do to be even remotely close to what he could find annoying. everything you do in his eyes is perfect, flawless, and he clings to you so much that he finds it impossible to think of your actions or words as something that poses as an aggravation to him.

what he finds irritating is when yuji will borrow his shirts without asking and fail to return them for days, or when he’s been assigned on a mission and it lasts far longer than he intended to be there, the task cutting into time he could be spending with you, or even when other people serve as a nuisance to you. you have never, ever been on the list of things that get on his nerves, and he doesn’t think you ever will be.

that’s why he feels such guilt when he starts to feel that familiar sense of annoyance bubbling in his chest when you keep asking him to let you know about his plans for the weekend.

you’ve asked him numerous times at this point, and he has given you the same answer: he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing with his brother or when he’ll be home, and that he’d let you know as soon as he figures it out. but you know that by the time he ‘figures it out’ it will be past the time you need to plan around his absence.

you’re an organized person, and you like to know in advance what is happening in your boyfriend’s life so that you can either prepare to spend some time with him or not waste the effort looking forward to doing so if he will be out late. this is especially a big deal to you because choso tends to get carried away when spending time with his little brother. the brunette loves his family so dearly, and you have always admired how fiercely he cares for those close to him, but his tendency to just go along with whatever yuji’s hyper mind thinks of on the spot without having the sense to think of how it will impact his brother’s girlfriend yet always gets to you.

you want choso to spend time with his brother, you do, but you just wish that he would have the decency of letting you in on what he plans to do on the days they are together more often.

therefore, it is friday and you continue to ask him to let you know what the plans are, and choso, still not completely understanding of what you want, is growing tired of the nagging.

“i already told you, love,” he reasons as best as he can with you, his voice dipping lower. “i don’t know how long we’ll be out. i promise you i’ll let you know.”

you’re moving about the kitchen while choso stands at the corner, eyes heavy as he watches you. he’s trying his hardest to mask his growing agitation, for he knows that you are very keen on picking up on his tells that reveal his emotions. when he’s aggravated, his brows angle ever so slightly and his lids weigh over bored vision, his lips curled in a frown.

you haven’t looked at him yet. your back is to him as your rummage through your fridge. “yeah, cho, you said that already, and you say that every time you go out,” you close the fridge door, carton of eggs in your hand for you to prepare lunch.

“and i always come back,” he says, shrugging slightly. “I don’t understand what the problem is… i’d never stay out all night without coming back.”

“it’s not about you coming back or not, it’s about when you come back,” you try to explain, placing the eggs on the counter to turn and reaching to grab a bowl. “i’ve definitely talked about this before, right? sometimes i stay up for you or want to hang out with you when you get back, but you never give me an estimated time when you’re with your brother so i can plan around it.”

choso exhales through his nose slowly, looking down. “the point is that if i knew, i’d tell you…”

you look up, catching the dipped pitch in his tone, and tilt your head to the side upon taking in his stature. he’s pouting.

you stop what your doing, pressing your hands to the ledge of the other side of the counter and leaning over with a suspicious look.

“are you alright?” you ask slowly.

choso meets your eye, a hint of a deer in in headlights look capturing him. “yes,” he says stiffly, quickly, and you are not convinced whatsoever.

“you sure? because your face says otherwise,” you nod toward him.

conflict is pretty foreign to the two of you within your relationship. neither of you ever want to upset the other, so in tiptoeing around certain issues, a lot of them are either brushed over and pent up. choso specifically things it’s damn near a sin to be upset with you, and you him, for he still does not understand certain inner workings of human connections.

he does not want to ruin what he has with you, and he does not comprehend why he is growing annoyed with someone he cherishes so much. he still loves you, but he can’t help this feeling. it burdens him with guilt, and he does not know how to respond once you catch him.

“is something bothering you?” you ask carefully. “are you upset because i keep asking about this weekend?”

choso doesn’t respond. he feels like it’s a trap, for he would never lie to you but to admit that he’s annoyed is an entirely different ball park that he is horrified to step into. he looks at you shamefully, face still tense but he’s trying hard to relax, to mask the way he truly feels.

you raise a brow. “…choso?”

“i’m fine,” he tells you. once again, he’s answering far too quickly.

“okay,” you exhale, shifting on your feet. choso watches you anxiously, keeping incredibly still as though moving will make the earth shatter. “I know you really well, cho. clearly the conversation is bothering you.” after another moment of silence from your boyfriend, you continue. “you can be honest with me, or else you’ll just be carrying this around with you all day.”

“…i don’t wanna upset you,” he eventually murmurs.

“I understand, but that’s not realistic,” you say with subtle sternness in your tone. “just like it’s not realistic to pretend like you aren’t upset right now when i can clearly tell you are. we both have rights to feeling whatever we feel, so just… come on, tell me what’s going on.”

with a pensive expression, choso slowly allows himself to give in. “it’s just that…” he begins hesitantly. “i’m not really sure what you want me to tell you anymore. about my plans.”

“i'm not asking anything out of the question, i just want you to plan more for my sake.”

“but i keep repeating myself when i tell you that yuji and i don’t plan… it’s a little…”

“it’s a little what?”

“just… kind of… annoying.”

you reel, staring at choso incredulously. you never thought you would have seen the day where your sweet significant other, horrified of touching you the wrong way, would call you annoying. admittedly, you’re a little wounded. you haven’t done anything wrong, and yet choso is aggravated by your desire to simply know what time he’s coming home. you’re not asking for too much. you hardly believe you’re asking for anything at all. you know that choso can be irrational, but never with you. never like this.

you nod to yourself slowly, pursing your lips. choso eyes you carefully, uncertain of how his own words have landed. you wanted him to be honest, and this is how he’s feeling. should he have just lied? should he have kept it to himself anyway?

suddenly, you resume what you are doing and turn away from choso wordlessly. the violet eyed man’s eyes widen as you go searching for a pan, and air of intensity about you.

“(y/n)?” he says your name cautiously after a while of you shuffling about. “you okay?”

“it’s cool,” you respond shortly, and choso shrinks.

he moves to round the counter to approach you slowly, but you do not slow yourself when you notice him moving into the kitchen beside you. “i don’t think it is…”

“choso, i know how you feel now and that’s that. i’ll leave it be.”

you sound mad. choso doesn’t like it at all, and he’s unsure of how to even speak to you this way. he doesn’t want to further ruin your mood, but he has to make sure you’re alright… that he didn’t cross some sort of line.

“i’m sorry,” he hastily apologizes. “I wasn’t trying to make things worse.”

“don’t apologize for what you feel,” you strictly say, moving to the other side of the kitchen the second choso gets close to you.

he stops, his traces of annoyance having completely washed away. “but you’re mad now.”

“i’m not mad, i just- i’m a little annoyed too now.”

he deflates. “oh,” he mumbles, hands falling to his sides. “then, what do what do now?”

you exhale, taking a moment to pause and turn to face choso from the other side of the space. “i wanna talk about why i’m irritated.”

“okay… and that won’t make it worse?”

“no, because i’ll at least be getting my point across.”

he nods dejectedly. “alright. why are you upset?”

“because you won’t take a second to put yourself in my shoes and understand that planning for my sake now that we live together will help ease my anxiety,” you explain, your hand moving about as you emphasize your stance. “i don’t care how long you and yuji are out. that’s not the point, and i know you don’t plan, but I’m asking you to at least start to, because i get tired of falling asleep waiting for you because i don’t know when you’re coming home. if i knew in advance, i wouldn’t have to stay up or get my hopes up about you coming back at a certain time. and then you tell me that i’m annoying you because i just want to be informed. like, that’s a little rude, choso. it’s basically like you saying you don’t care what i ask for.”

“i do care,” he cuts in passionately, brows knitted with a look of guilted sadness. “i’m sorry. i didn’t know it was like that for you.”

“because you never bothered to ask.”

“i’m sorry,” he says again. “i shouldn’t have called you annoying. that was mean. you just… told me to be honest, so i said what i was thinking.”

“that’s another thing, choso, we’re not perfect. we’re people and we react to things differently. this isn’t the last time we’ll be annoyed with each other.”

“i don’t like that,” he grumbles.

“we don’t have to like it, but that’s just how things are. it doesn’t mean we love each other any less, and we’re not always going to agree on why we’re annoyed with one another.”

“…are we fighting?”

you scoff a slight, tired laugh and shake your head. “no, we’re not fighting. we’re just talking.”

“okay,” he nods. “well, i’m sorry. i am. i’ll try to do better about planning for you. and you’re not annoying, (y/n). i love you.”

you soften. “i love you too, cho, just please be more mindful of how you react sometimes.”

“i will,” he mumbles. “…can i… i mean, is it wrong to ask you for a hug or do you need some time?”

“come over here,” you beckon him over. the brunette is quick to comply, stepping heavily over to you and burying his face in your neck. you wrap your arms around his frame as he holds you, murmuring numerous apologies to you over and over in your ear.

“maybe i’ll just stay home,” he suggests, mumbling into your skin.

“you don’t need to do that, cho, that’s not what i was asking of you.”

“i know, but i’d rather stay in with you anyway. or maybe we can make it a group thing if you want to come with.”

“i’ll see how i feel this weekend, but that’s sounds great, baby. thank you.”

toji fushiguro:

toji has a habit of getting caught up in his stress accumulated from the day. he’ll return home grumpily, muscles twitching and lips tight in a scowl. his back aches and his head hurts, and all he wants to do is crawl up into bed with you and snooze for the rest of the night.

of course, this isn’t always plausible. life presents its daily interferences that throw off his plans of laziness with the woman he loves, and sometimes, the woman he loves herself is the very thing standing in the way of his tranquility.

you don’t do so on purpose. while toji leads his life of chaos and crime, you busy yourself with your own less illegal tasks, and those tasks and your desires by the end of the day don’t always match his. and toji, despite how wholly he loves you, has the unintentional tendency to be selfish, for it’s how he’s lived his whole life before meeting you.

and that tendency especially shines through when his mind is clouded by exhaustion. if he wants you to lay still with him for the rest of the night, why can’t he? why the hell do you have to run out to the store instead? or finish up an assignment that takes an extra hour and a half to complete? or try to talk to him about your day when he just wants peace and quiet in your wordless physical presence?

it ticks him off, and he’s already moody enough before he comes home to realize that he is not going to get what his mind and heart have been set on for hours. he tries his best not to take things out on you when he is in a healthy, normal conscious state, but he can not help it at the worst of times. before he knows it, he’s snapping at you all because you wanted to show him an album of pictures you came across during your visit to your parents today.

“oh!” you gasp excitedly, leaning into toji’s shoulder as you lounge with him on the bed, your phone presenting itself to his face. you’re propped up with your back to the headboard while toji is laid flat against the pillow with a sour expression. “and this one is from halloween when i was eleven! holy shit, look at my braces! damn, they really threw off the whole costume. i still look cute though, don't i?"

toji doesn't know how you haven't noticed his lack of response as you swipe through photo after photo, your voice a blabber of nonsense in his ear as he closes his eyes in vexation. he can feel himself nearing his last straw as you shift your entire conversation enthusiastically, diving into some story about your family that is hardly related to the pictures you have been sharing.

the dark-haired man is so tired, so fed up with noise and the questions you ask him that you do not even wait for him to respond to before you're cutting in and rambling on again - not that toji even would have responded.

he just wants to sleep... you're still going on, and he wants to sleep.

"and then there was the time that i-"

you're interrupted by a loud groan and the run of toji's large hands down his face. you falter, lowering your phone and furrowing your brows at him slightly, your smile dwindling upon finally taking note of toji's body language.

silence stills the room while toji keeps his hands concealing his face and you simply watch him, stunned.

"uh..." you start pensively, confused. "...why did you just-"

"for the love of christ, girl, can you be quiet for one second?" he interjects once more with the tear of his hands away from his face and the strike of his weary, tense eyes into yours.

you jump. "what?" is all you can ask, awed by the way your boyfriend just spoke to you.

"i had a long day, (y/n). the fuck don't you understand about that?"

your face is scrunching in offense now, your body retracting and your energy transitioning into dejected anger. "toji, why the hell are you talking to me like that?"

"cause you've been workin' my last nerve since i got home," he grits out, tense hands swiping the air. you stare at him with wide eyes. "i'm fuckin' tired. i don't wanna come home to you talkin' my ear off about shit i don't care about. just let me sleep, alright?"

you clamp your mouth shut, a lump forming in your throat and a pit swirling in your chest as you take in toji's hurtful words. his face is hard as he awaits a response from you, and you can do nothing but look at him pathetically, completely torn apart by how swiftly he had made you feel as though you are a burden to him.

you had not meant to interfere with his rest time. you thought he was resting by sitting cozily in bed with you. you thought that he would enjoy seeing pictures of you from the past, hearing about old memories that you revive for the sake of his enjoyment. hell, you would have enjoyed it if the roles were reversed and toji was sharing his childhood memories with you after a long day (if of course, his childhood had been a bit more positive).

you understand that you may have misread the situation, but there was no need for toji to be so cruel to you about it. you hate when he gets like this, so rigid and ruthless with his tone and his words that it makes you feel as though he wants nothing to do with you.

you fight the urge to cry, your body tensing as you swallow hard. you tear your eyes from toji's face, the vision alone scarring you as his words seep in. the green-eyed man watches you shut off your phone swiftly and tuck it carelessly into your pocket with a scoff.

he quirks his brow in befuddlement now as you push yourself off the mattress and cooly whisk yourself around the furniture and to the bedroom door. he pushes himself up, for he didn't want you to leave. he just wanted silence.

"where're you goin'?" he asks as though you have no reason to storm off. you halt in the doorway, whipping your head over your shoulder to glare at him with glassy eyes.

"to give you your space," you hissed. "after all, i don't want to 'work your last nerve' any more than i already have."

toji can tell by the glossiness of your gaze and the tremble of your voice that he fucked up. he sighs heavily, swiping a hand over his hair. "i ain't mean it like that-" he tries to defend himself, but you have none of it.

"sure you did, toji. or else you wouldn't have said it," you growl. "it's fine. really. you can be an asshole all by yourself while i'm gone. maybe you'll be able to sleep now that your girlfriend is out of the way."

you leave with a slam to the door, the walls shaking in your wake, and toji stares at the wall harshly. the overwhelming silence now envelopes him, the silence that he had been longing for since you started talking, and now that he has it, it doesn't feel right.

he curses to himself, scratching the back of his head. he shouldn't have snapped at you. all you had been doing was sharing something close to your heart with him, and he completely blew you off. it wasn't as though you were the source of his stress - it was his job, yet he reacted in such a way to make it feel as though you were the problem.

fuck. toji knows he has issues with regulating his anger, but he continues to swear that he will work on leaving you out of it, and yet here he is again, mulling over the after-effects of dragging you into his acidity once more.

he's not even tired anymore. he tries to doze off, but all he can think about is your face and how he hurt you.

when he steps out of his room, he finds that you are nowhere to be found in his apartment. he tries calling you, but you don't pick up. he resorts to texting you, asking where you are. you read the messages, but refuse to answer, ensuring that he knows you're pissed off.

he shakes his head and goes to check your location instead, which he is grateful to find that you haven't shut off. he knows you too well. you want him to chase after you and apologize, to put forth the effort that you at times feel he would not extend for your sake.

toji finds you at a bar around the corner, your chin propped in your hand as you stare ahead over the counter emptily with an untouched drink before you. you're slumped in your seat with your phone tucked under your hand, appearing so sad before him, and toji feels his heart ache knowing that he's the reason you look like this.

"go away," you grumble when you see his bulky figure approaching you out of the corner of your eye, not even bothering to look his way. the fushiguro leans his forearm against the counter beside you with his other hand propped on his hip. he tilts his head down to try to catch a glimpse of your face, and you simply turn away stubbornly.

"c'mon doll," he attempts to coax. "don't be mad."

"don't fucking tell me not to be mad, you dick."

toji drops his head. bad start. "listen," he begins, unsure of how to proceed. he has never been good with finding words in these situations. "i shouldn't've said what i said."

you turn to scour at him. "no shit."

he wants to chuckle at how angry you are, for you start cursing up a storm the way toji does on a daily basis, and he finds it rather endearing how quick you are to violate him with your language when he gets on your bad side.

toji doesn't realize that the skin beneath his eyes is creasing a the corner of his lip is tugging upward, for you're gaping at him and smacking his chest rather aggressively. "you think this is funny?"

"no, (y/n), i don't think it's funny," he chuckles, and you fume. you go to slam a few bills onto the table before jumping up from your stool and storming away. toji panics, reaching out and snatching up your arm in his grasp. you're tugged back to him against your wishes, fiery (e/c) hues seething into him as though you seek to kill him with your gaze. "stop, i'm tryna talk to you for a second."

"clearly you think my feelings are a joke to you, toji."

"i don't think that, doll, you know that."

"do i?" you raise your brows. "i wasn't so sure when you talked to me like i was nothing but a nuisance to you."

you go to tug away, but toji holds you to him, looking into your eye intensely. "you ain't a nuisance."

"then why talk to me like that?" you frown. "i wasn't even doing anything to hurt you, i was just trying to share something with you."

"i know baby," he softens, hand coming to cup over your neck. you turn away, leading him to smooth his hand over the back of your head instead as you look off to the side bitterly. "it wasn't you, it was my day-"

"i don't care," you huff. "you can't blame the way you treat people on shitty days - especially the way you treat me! i'm the person in this world who loves you, toji. if you need me to reel in on something, then just say that respectfully, but don't you dare go yelling at me the way you just did. it hurts my feelings."

toji sighs, looking over your face and caressing your hair. "i know, doll, m'sorry," he mumbles. "shouldn't be taking my shit out on you. you ain't ever done a single thing bad to me."

"yeah, you prick," you bite, and toji lets himself smile. "and stop smiling," you push against his chest. "nothing's fucking funny."

"you're right. nothin's funny at all," he agrees. "m'just happy i got a girl who knows how to fight back when i'm bein' an asshole."

"oh, what the fuck ever," you roll your eyes. "you're lucky i don't chop your balls off and hang them on display in the living room."

"nah, i much prefer you gettin' mean with me." he moves to cup your neck again, and this time you allow him, a pretty pout still on your face. "i deserve it."

"you sure as hell do..."

he chuckles, smirk spreading. "c'mere, doll," he pulls you into him, securing his arms around your frame and pressing you to his chest. you ease into him reluctantly, glowering off to the side as your check squishes into his pectoral. you don't hug back, for toji's biceps crush over you and trap your arms within his embrace as he rocks you slowly. "what can i do to make up for it?"

"go jump off a bridge," you mutter, body relaxing into his warmth as his chest rumbles with laughter against you.

ryomen sukuna:

sukuna belittling you with his words has never been anything new to you. while you understand that you withhold a space of softness in his heart that is reserved for you and you only, at times his comfortability with insulting you can go a bit far.

and of course, you’re used to it. he calls you “brat” and “woman” as though you are a nuisance to him when in reality, you are the only person on this planet he has bestowed those names upon with his own definition of affection. he clicks his teeth and rolls his eyes at you when you talk about something that he wants you to believe is of little interest to him, when he is taking mental note of the things you enjoy talking about so that he can suffocate you with your desires long after you have presented a specific like to his attention. and of course, he tells you you are an aggravation to his soul every damn two seconds, as though loving you brings him stress after eons of having lived so freely and ruthlessly - though he still does, your presence does more to ease him into a state of mellowness than anything has prior to his commitment to you.

he very clearly welcomes the feeling and connection to you, but masks so by calling you annoying. all the time. so of course, when he does normally, you are completely desensitized to it.

unless you’re already irritated.

occasionally, there is only so much of sukuna you can handle. you love him to death, but the two of you butt heads so often due to your stubborn natures and unwillingness to allow the other to win that it tends to wear you down after a while. sukuna calls you disrespectful for even talking back, yet allows you to continue to do so as if he gets off on the way you get snippy with him.

it’s entertaining to the lord, after all. why would he spend his time doting on someone boring?

nevertheless, if you’ve had a long day and are in no mood to deal with sukuna’s rather wide range of complex reactions to even the smallest of things that you do, his habits tick you off - especially so when he calls you annoying for something that you feel is anything but.

so as you complain to sukuna about how he needs to be mindful of how many sheets he’s running through by staining them with blood when he carelessly returns to your shared bedroom from yet another colorful expedition, you're peeved by the way he stares at you so carelessly. you’ve been begging him forever to be more mindful of how he treats his belongings, especially now that you share the same things, but he always brushes your concerns aside by saying that he can just get more. but god forbid someone else were to stain his sheets, then he’d be out for blood.

his arms are crossed as he stands before you, eyes rolling over the ceiling as he makes his agitation rather evident. you’re a little thing in comparison to him, yammering on about the tenth set of sheets he has stained this month, but he wants to hear none of it. why is it such a big deal to you anyway? he has thousands of servants and limitless access to resources, so it shouldn’t matter to you whatsoever. besides, you’ve stained numerous sheets of his over the years with your arousal and he’s never complained. why does it all of a sudden hold importance to you what state his belongings are in now?

“would you quit your moaning, woman?” he snarls, overpowering voice speaking over you. his eyes are hard and slim as they stare over you, and you’re bubbling with rage the moment he cuts into what you’re saying. “it is not of relevance to me, so why is it of any relevance to you?”

“because it is, sukuna! why do you only hold value to the things you care about? we share a bed, obviously i’m affected by this too!” you argue.

“you are not a servant. servants concern themselves over such things.”

“oh, so now i’m beneath you for talking about this?”

sukuna groans. “i did not say that, brat.”

“yeah, but you insinuated it!” you retort. “i’m tired, sukuna, i wasn’t trying to make this a big thing.”

“yet you are attempting to by persisting so irritatingly.”

you throw your hands up, at your wit’s end. why does he never listen to you when there is something on your mind? why does he always push aside what you feel matters when he decides it doesn’t matter to him? why is he always so cold with you, so steely and headstrong as though he remains above you like you haven’t been by his side all this time?

you know how sukuna is, and yet him calling your opinions irritating riles you up in this moment. everything has to turn into an argument, and it weighs you down. nothing can ever run smoothly without sukuna taking offense or scoffing at the idea of you coming to him with something you feel should be fixed. you can’t win.

"seriously?" you plead. "i mean, really, i'm irritating because i don't want to sleep in blood every night?"

"christ, you don't sleep in blood. the sheets are changed before you come to rest!" he barks. "that is why i find this so annoying. you are complaining for nothing."

"you know what? you're annoying!" you point a finger to his broad chest. the king of curses lifts a brow, looking down at where your finger prods into him.

"i beg your pardon?" an amused, low chuckle ripples through him as though the sentiment is unheard of, which only pisses you off even more.

"you heard me. you're the fucking annoying one. you're always going on about how i shouldn't talk back, or how everything i feel doesn't make sense, or how the things i want don't matter because you don't want them! you act like you're so far above me, when i'm the only one sleeping in bed with you, sitting on your throne, supporting your psycho-ass ambitions - but i'm the irritating one, right? your girlfriend is such a pain in the ass, isn't she? for caring about your wellbeing and loving you when nobody else will?"

the salmon-haired king's eyes go dull as you shout at him, fury raging in your eyes as you continue to poke at him. you're playing with fire, but you don't care. you're fed up with the pretending, with the sly comments about your intelligence as a human being and the value of your interests.

"woman-"

"shut up! i'm not done."

oh. you've really lost it now, haven't you?

normally, sukuna would have made it a point to silence you and teach you a lesson by now, but for some reason, he's feeling generous. slightly intrigued by your outburst, he lets you go on with a domineering smirk.

"i don't care of you're the king of curses, or if you could kill me with the snap of your fingers, or if you've got thousands of people who bow down to you without a second thought like mindless sheep-"

"you are not those people."

"exactly!" you agree without thinking, and sukuna's smirk brightens. "i'm not! so stop- stop treating me like i am! stop talking to me like i'm unimportant and like i get on your nerves more than i do anything good for you! stop blowing me off because you don't know how to empathize! i'm your girlfriend. i care about you, and i also care about the state of your things which you always make a point to say are mine too- and fucking sue me if i'm tired of walking into your room after a long day to see blood stains from random ass civilians while your servants work to replace them in the next hour! what if i wanna lay down before then, huh? ever thought about that?

"god, i just wish you'd care! is that so hard for you to do, sukuna? to care about me and what i care about? i didn't wanna argue with you, but you make it so damn hard for me not to lose my mind! you never hear me talk about how much you drive me crazy, and you drive me crazy every damn day of the week!"

"is that so?" he pries, slyly.

"yes!"

"i implore you, tell me more about how i drive you crazy."

"have you not been listening to anything i've-?!" you freeze, reconnecting with the moment to look in sukuna's eye and see how he is enjoying listening to your rant. you stop, stepping back and lifting your finger from his chest. you breathe in and out deeply, worked up by your own emotion, and you finally take a second to realize what you have been doing. "you're mocking me," you conclude.

"i am doing no such thing."

you scoff. "whatever, sukuna. just forget it. sorry i'm so irritating to you."

you go to walk off, but sukuna is already wrapping a set of arms around you, tugging you back to his chest. you grit your teeth, peering up over your shoulder to look back and find the demon grinning down at you teasingly.

"you need to relax," he muses.

"don't fucking tell me to relax, sukuna, i'm already pissed off."

"mm. i can see that, and in feeling so you have forgotten who you are speaking to."

"see, this is what i'm talking about! i'm not your servant-"

"yes, yes, i know. it was hard not to catch what you were saying during your little tantrum."

"fuck you," you groan, moving to push away. sukuna tightens his grip, winding his arms securely over your stomach and pressing you to his chest. "sukuna," you whine.

"stop taking everything so personally," he ducks down to speak into your ear over your left shoulder. you jerk, turning your head in the direction of his voice. "you are fully aware that you are not the same as everybody else. if you were, you would not be so mouthy."

"yeah, well it's hard to tell what you think sometimes when you call me annoying all the damn time. if you want me to leave you alone, just say that and i can stop wasting my time."

"enoughhh," he hisses. "you must stop taking things so far."

"and you must stop being so mean," you mimic his speech.

sukuna snorts. "do not worry about the sheets. i will retreat elsewhere after massacres if it while cease your whining."

"oh, how lucky i am," you click your teeth.

"quite so," he turns in to press his lips to the space under your jaw. "if you were anyone else-"

"i'd be dead," you finish, involuntarily leaning into him though your face is still tense. "no one else should be in your bed anyway, you know."

"that is why no one ever will."

[astrolook]

Mercury in the houses

(Where does your brain do the most damage? Let’s find out! 😆)

Mercury in the 1st House: "I Talk, Therefore I Am." 📝

Speaks like they’re in a debate competition—even when ordering coffee. ☕

When it comes to job/career, can succeed in anything requiring fast thinking, persuasion, or scamming people legally. (Lawyer, salesperson, journalist.)

Will text you a 3-paragraph explanation for why they took 5 minutes to reply. 📱

Probably debated with your siblings (if you have any) so much as a child they now have trust issues.

Flirts like it's a TED Talk—informative, persuasive, and slightly exhausting.

Looks like their pen was possessed by a demon mid-word. 👻

Your brain runs at 5G speed, but their mouth runs at 6G.

Mercury in the 2nd House: "Money Talks… and So Do I!"💰

Talks slow and calculated—like they’re charging per word.

For job/career, you are perfect for finance, business, or making passive-aggressive Etsy shops.

"Who owes me $15 from 2020? I remember."

Your Handwriting: Fancy-looking cursive that belongs on an expensive check. ✍️

If has family, you might have an Excel sheet of who spent what on Christmas gifts. 🎁

Watches finance YouTubers like they’re movies.

Mercury in the 3rd House: "I Have 1000 Thoughts Per Minute."

Can out-talk an auctioneer. Never. Shuts. Up. Talks so fast, even their Wi-Fi can’t keep up.

For job/career, you could do well as journalist, social media manager, or that one coworker who emails at 3 AM.

Chaotic bisexual, pansexual, or flirts for sport. 🏆

Handwriting: Could be unreadable. Like a doctor’s prescription.

Probably has 50 tabs opened at once.

ADHD? I've seen this placement with people who has mercury in 3rd house.

Mercury in the 4th House: "Let’s Overthink Our Childhood."📝

When they talk it sounds like a therapist even when giving food orders.

For job/career, anything home-based (Freelancer, therapist, professional nostalgic, home maker).

Writes long emotional texts and then deletes them.

They're the one that tells their sibling, "Mom always liked me better" or "You're adopted".

Handwriting: Cutesy and emotional—like a grandma’s love letter.

On their social media accounts, they posts sentimental throwbacks way too much.

Biggest Flaw: Lives in the past.

Mercury in the 5th House: "Flirting is My Second Language."📝

Flirty, dramatic, and annoyingly charming.

For job/career, anything creative—actor, writer, public speaker, meme creator.

Flirts with everyone, dates no one. Flirting in the comments section.

Was the funny but annoying child.

Can’t take anything seriously.

Mercury in the 6th House: "I think in bullet points."

If anyone asks them a question, it would sound like a Google search result.

For job/career, perfectionist boss (or their employee’s worst nightmare).

Too busy analyzing red flags to enjoy romance.

Handwriting: Neat, small, and borderline obsessive.

Leaves detailed Yelp reviews.

Mercury in the 7th House: "Let’s Discuss This… Again."📝

Speaks in "we" instead of "I" (even when they’re single).

For job/career, they are good at lawyer, diplomat, or customer service expert.

Always "the mediator" in sibling fights.

Plays marriage counselor to their parents.

Can’t be alone, but overthinks commitment.

Mercury in the 8th House: "Secrets? I Know Them All."📝

The way they talk: Low voice, deep words, big secrets.

For job/career, they're good at investigator, psychologist, hacker, or a blackmail expert.

In love, communicates in mystery and sexual tension.

Handwriting: Looks like a serial killer’s notes.

Leaves cryptic tweets.

Won’t admit their sexuality… but they are. Sometimes they could be straight, but a sibling could be gay.

Mercury in the 9th House: "I will talk your ear off about philosophy and conspiracy theories" 📝

Flirts by explaining history.

In love, turns deep convos into foreplay.

Probably thinks they’re smarter than their parents.

Posts long Reddit rants.

Handwriting: Could be messy, but big and confident.

For job/career, could excel at teacher, philosopher, or annoying podcast host.

Mercury in the 10th House: "I’m CEO of Overthinking My Career."📝

Talks like a LinkedIn post and takes life too seriously.

For job/career, could be a CEO, politician, or a corporate robot, lol.

Will literally schedule date nights.

Takes love as seriously as a business contract.

Will only befriend "useful people."

Mostly posts work-related updates.

Mercury in the 11th House: "I'm the human embodiment of a Reddit thread"📝

Speaks like they’re in a sci-fi movie.

Tech startup, social activist, or online troll.

In love, probably falls for their best friend.

Might like the idea of "open-minded" relationships.

The "black sheep" of the family.

Handwriting: Either it looks like it belongs on a protest sign or kinda bad.

Mercury in the 12th House: "Did I Say That Out Loud?"

Mumbles, forgets what they were saying.

Job/Career: Psychic, therapist, or mysterious writer. If writes, these people would write under a pen name.

Either super close to their siblings or never speaks to them.

Very much into horror, psychological thriller movies.

Handwriting: Looks like a haunted diary.

Terrible at explaining emotions but fantastic at writing it.

Mercury is where your brain lives, where your mouth runs, and where your Wi-Fi connection to reality glitches. 😆🌍✨

[okwonyo]

SUGAR TALKING ꒪ ✿⠀ making doe eyes at them.

TESTI ────── 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝖾, 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝗅𝖾𝗍’𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 !

❪ 日语 ❫ & fem!rea 1OOO fluff established relationship non-idol au ❜ skinship kissing ◜‿◝ REBLOGS&CLICK

지아 ⠀⦂⠀ since it won the poll :O

HEESEUNG

usually, he isn’t the the type to talk too much during movie nights. his hand always in yours as he watches the movie enthusiastically, never missing one bit of it.

but today it seems different— you don’t really know if it’s either because he is very passionate about this specific actor or if it’s because you called the said actor ‘hot’. but he won’t stop talking.

“seriously!” he huffs after a few seconds of calm. he smiles and shakes his head in fake nonchalance, “i don’t understand what he has that i don’t. do you prefe—”

the rest of his sentence dies in his throat when his eyes meet yours. you look at him wide eyed, with a little pout that makes his heart skip.

“shut up please,” you ask with a honey coat voice— his eyes grow wide. he is soon giggling, leaning on you, as if what you just said wasn’t almost an insult.

at least he stops talking.

⠀ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹙ᵕ ᵕ⠀look under the cut ! ♡

JAY

it is not a secret that you can get anything you want out of him. whether it’s his money or the entire world— you ask and you shall receive.

therefore, you don’t need to do anything else but ask for something that you want. because you know you got him wrapped around your finger. and that, if you wanted the moon, then you will have the moon.

sometimes, however, there is things that can’t be bought or that are hard to ask for. today, you want his attention.

you decided to not go bother him as you usually do. no, you choose to stare at him from across the room with the most bambi looking eyes you could manage. he should have noticed by now.

the long silence is what alarms him. he looks over you quickly, “are you—” then he looks again and his mouth falls agape. he sighs fondly, “c’mere, baby,”

JAKE

it’s not your fault. it really isn’t. he shouldn’t have been so easy to tease in the first place. getting a blush out of him is too easy and he is way too lovely for you to control yourself.

and ever since he confessed that he loved when you looked at him with those yes— you cannot stop looking at him with those eyes.

for a while, he is too occupied on his phone to even notice. but when his eyes shoots up to meet yours, he immediately smiles.

instinctively biting his lower lip, he stays silent for a while before throwing his head back and whining, “stop doing that!”

your eyes keep watching his growing blush as you laugh, “like what?” and he groans.

SUNGHON

he swears you do it all the time, but the truth is that you don’t even know what he is talking about. he mays affirm that you play dumb in purpose— you don’t, you really don’t.

the thing is that, he would say that you are trying to seduce him whenever you try to do anything. you run a hand through you hair? you want to make out. you grin? you want him to kiss you.

you just assumed he was that down bad.

“you are playing with me,” he smirks, looking down at you. your bodies moves along with the train you are standing in. you were already looking at him, but now there is confusion in your eyes. “don’t look at me like that.”

“what?” you giggle. honestly, you didn’t even know you were looking at him. admiring him is natural as breathing to you, “are you crazy?”

“when you look at me like that,” he whispers as he leans in. your arms are hugging his waist, your head is all the way titled up and he is so handsome, “my heart beats with need.”

SUNOO

you know he doesn’t get mad often— even if he does act like he is. he is too much of a softie to even think of being annoyed with you.

more times than not, he gets sulky. lips puckered as he gives you the silent treatment. it is always for silly things, however, just because he loves when you ask him to talk to you.

“i love you,” you tell him, holding onto his arm. he doesn’t do anything, obviously hiding his smile—and failing. “look at me.”

he takes a deep breath before bringing his focus on your instead of the dishes in front of him. his eyes fall into yours, “stop,” he says. turning red.

he tries to keep his annoyed attitude as hard as possible. he starts to take care of the dishes in the sink again— as if, trying to distract himself.

he keeps peeking at you. unable to control himself, he ends up crumbling. he hides his face in the crook of your neck in embarrassment.

JUNWGON

“my love, i’ll have to go eventually,” his tone is soft, his chuckles makes it harder for you to even consider letting him leave the bed and let him leave you.

he is not even gone. he is sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you. you hold his hand with both of yours— chasing after his warmth that you already miss.

you don’t really care where he is going, you want him here. you make the most adorable eyes you can put up, in a tiny voice you say, “can’t you stay a little longer?”

he seems a tad taken aback. on of his eyebrows shots up ever so slightly. pretty red lips forms a ‘o’ and his dimples smiles when he smiles.

gets back under the cover, close to you. he kisses you gently, “work can wait.”

RIKI

“leave me alone!” your boyfriend whines, faking annoyance. he is laying on your bed, next to your plushies, with his hands on your hips as you sit on

him. he acts like he wants to push you away but his grip is way too strong.

he gets up, rather abruptly, making you settle on his laps. he makes sure you are as comfortable as possible but holds your wrists when you try to reach his hair.

“just a few!” giggles makes your voice tremble. you try to get out of his handle but you can’t— he is much stronger that you, “please!”

he looks at the hello kitty hairpins in your hands with narrowed eyes. he doesn’t look against the idea at all, you know he just fights because of principle, “no!”

you tilt your head to the side slightly, the prettiest pout appearing on your lips. you look at him with a specific look— the one who made him choked on his drink the first time. “please, for me,”

you are already wearing a victorious grin as soon as he groans. he ends up with more than just a few hairpins in his hair.

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

[medicinemane]

It's just a fact that nothing I do matters or has any impact

I can prove it, and I do mean that

I wouldn't want to because I think it would bother people, but I have... endless proof