#she was so bitter and angry at the world and who can blame her??

[shiawasekai]

Still having so many feelings about Fuyuki and her situation.

[ambrosiagourmet]

I love the Dungeon Meshi characters I love how Laios leaves Falin and Falin leaves Marcille and Marcille babies Falin because she’s afraid to lose her (to leaving) (to time) (to death) (something will take her away, eventually). I love how Rin loves Kabru and she is bitter and angry and he doesn’t seem to need her the same way she needs him but also he thinks about how much the elves have hurt her just before he throws himself into the abyss to keep the elves from taking everything. I love how Kabru chases Laios who chases Shuro who chases Falin who follows Laios who nervously asks Kabru to stay with him once he is king.

I love how Falin gave her life to protect Marcille and Laios, and how they would do anything to bring her back. I love how Thistle wants to help Delgal and wants to help the kingdom and wants to stop the Lion and brings Marcille back to life and because of all those things she becomes the Dungeon Lord. I love how Laios gives Marcille a piece of his armor so that she can stay alive and bring them all back, and it is simultaneous kind and cruel and selfish and selfless. I love how he saves her from her nightmares and that pushes her towards a self-destructive path, and I love that no one lets him take the blame for that, and I love that he holds so much responsibility and love for her anyways and won’t kill her even if it would save the world (or save himself).

I love that they wouldn’t be alive without Senshi, and Senshi wouldn’t know the taste of hippogriff stew without them. I love that they wouldn’t be alive without Izutsumi and she wouldn’t understand her two hearts (so full of love and hunger) without them. I love that they wouldn’t be alive without Chilchuck, and he knows it, too (and carries the guilt of leading them deeper, and doesn’t know how to let go of any of it).

I love that they make food and save each other and make food and save each other and make food and save each other and —

[upat4amwiththemoon]

hii i love your writing especially the wandnat fics 😭 can i request a pt. 3 or just something with “the blip” universe where r wakes up after spending the night at her moms and when she doesn’t find them in their room she starts panicking and it takes her back to when they blipped (but they find her and help her thru it)

The blip | 3

Summary: Broken families take time to heal.

Pairing: WandaNat x daughter!reader

Warnings: some angst, panic attack-ish

Word count: 1283

a/n: I added some things, hope you don’t mind! I think I’m going to make a 4th part too🫢

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @emsmultiverse @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

All parts: part 1, part 2, part 3

The little while Y/N was supposed to stay with her moms turned into a week, then two more, a month, and another one. However, Wanda and Natasha have not minded it at all, they’re over the moon to spend more time with their daughter.

They don’t live at their old apartment anymore, having decided it’d be too overwhelming for Y/N to go back there. Instead, they live in a house further away from the city and the noise. It has three bedrooms, one for guests, one for Wanda and Natasha, and one for Y/N.

It’s perfect for the three of them.

Of course, Natasha and Wanda aren’t pressuring Y/N into moving in with them permanently, which is why she is still paying rent on her crappy apartment, but their hope is high.

Y/N paces around in the living room, wearing her best clothes, which weren’t that good with her minimal income as she refused to let her mothers use too much money on her.

“She’ll be here soon.” Wanda sets her hand on Y/N’s shoulder, giving her a comforting smile. “You don’t need to worry.”

“I know, I just-“ she takes a breath, “I haven’t seen her since that day.”

Natasha steps inside the room. “She won’t blame you for that. She’ll understand why.”

Staying quiet, Y/N stares out of the window, waiting for a car to drive into their road. Her hands are shaking, so she keeps playing with the rings on her fingers. Wanda keeps staring at the rings with a small smile, happy to see her daughter wearing her old rings, but missing the times she used to play with her hands when nervous.

A black car with tinted windows drives to the front of the house. Y/N’s breath hitches, seemingly unable to move before Natasha gives her a small nudge. “Go on.”

Y/N walks to the porch and down the few stairs on it, her moms behind her. Maria is standing by her car. “Hey, bug.” She has a smile on her face, but she looks afraid. Y/N is pretty sure she has never seen Maria afraid.

“Hi, aunt Maria.”

With that, Maria, who brides her ability to keep her emotions in check, starts crying.

Y/N’s eyes widen. It takes her a moment to react, but when she does so, she walks straight to Maria and hugs her. Her arms wrap around Maria’s neck, while the woman’s arms go around Y/N’s waist tightly.

They stare for a moment, both crying, before Maria pulls slightly away to wipe away the tears. “I’m so sorry, I really am.” She sniffles, moving her hands on Y/N’s cheeks to lift her head up to face her. “I’m sorry I left you alone in there.”

Y/N shakes her head, her lower lip quivering at her honorary aunt’s words. “It wasn’t your fault.” Her voice is quiet, almost a whisper.

Maria smiles, appreciating the words though she doesn’t fully believe them. One of her hands moves to the side of Y/N’s head, petting her hair softly. “You’re so grown now. You’re not fourteen anymore.”

“I’m not fourteen anymore.”

“You don’t need your aunt to guide you anymore.” Her voice is soft, but it has bitterness in it. She’s angry at the world, and herself, for missing out on the rest of Y/N’s teenage years.

“I do.” Her words are quick. “I need you, just like I still need my moms.” The last words come out quieter than the rest, just so Wanda and Natasha can’t hear her. It was always easier to reveal certain things to Maria rather than her moms.

Maria glances at the two other women patiently waiting for them by the porch. She gives them a smile. “Let’s go inside, yeah? we have all the tome in the world now.” Her hand rests on Y/N’s shoulders as she starts leading her towards the house.

Maria stayed in the Maximoff-Romanoff household until four in the morning. They spent all the hours catching up, though Y/N wasn’t too keen on talking about her life alone too much, but she shared the important details.

The clock strikes 12:30 when Y/N finally manages to wake up, still tired from staying up so late. It takes her 20 minutes to actually get out of bed.

She stands up, stretching her whole body and yawning, which causes her to get a short dizzy spell. With tired movements, she walks into the empty kitchen.

Y/N frowns, usually her moms are already up and making breakfast at this time. Her heart gets a heavy feeling, but she pushes it away, making her way to the main bedroom. She knocks on the door. When there’s no answer, she knocks again, harder this time.

“Mom? Mama?” She’s not afraid to call Wanda mama anymore.

Once again, no answer.

Her breathing picks up. This isn’t the blip, this isn’t the blip. She says the sentence over and over in her mind, but it’s getting swallowed by her panic. She opens the door and steps inside the empty bedroom, her dread growing by the second.

“Mom!” Y/N starts walking in and out of all the room, checking every possible nook and cranny. “Mama!” She quickly makes her way to the living room. Her shaky hands grab the remote control and turn on the television. The channels change quickly as she searches for the news channel.

Before she can fully try to listen to the news anchor, the front door opens. Her moms walking in, both of them holding grocery bags.

“Where were you?” Y/N shaky words make the two women set the bags down, frowns on their faces as they see the disheveled state their daughter is in. “I- I thought you were gone again. Why would you leave like that? You can’t just-“ the words are coming out quickly.

“Hey, hey,” Wanda sits on the couch, pulling Y/N right next to her, “we’re here and we’re okay.”

Natasha walks into the kitchen, picking up a note they wrote from the floor. It was taped to the fridge so Y/N would see the written We’re grocery shopping, will be back soon! easily. “I’m sorry, kрошка.” She sets the paper on the counter before joining the two on the couch. “The note fell.”

Y/N sniffles, trying to keep her sobs at bay while she fully leans into her mothers’ embrace. “I thought you left me again.”

“No, no.” Natasha and Wanda sandwich Y/N in their embrace. “We will never ever leave you again, and I know-“ Natasha continues talking before Y/N can say anything, “I know it’s hard to keep that promise, and it’ll take you time to fully trust us again. That’s okay. You just have to know, that we’ll do everything in our power to keep you and us safe.”

Y/N sniffles, her head in the crook of Wanda’s neck and her hand holding onto Natasha’s hand tightly. “Okay,” her voice is quiet as a whisper, “you won’t leave without telling again?”

“No, baby.” Wanda kisses the top of her head, keeping her face there, taking comfort in her scent even though it’s not as familiar. “We won’t leave without making sure you know exactly where we are.”

Y/N nods. She pulls away and rubs her eyes, clearing them from the tears. “What’d you get from the store?” She changes the subject, feeling slightly embarrassed of her panicked state.

Her moms make no comment of it, they go right into telling Y/N about their plan of the day to cook and bake together.

[menlove]

What do you think actually happened between John and Paul that caused John to become so bitter and vindictive towards Paul? If I remember correctly, the prevailing theory of John being rejected by Paul was actually conceived to retroactively 'explain ' John's behavior because otherwise it seems inexplicable why he would turn on so completely on the person who had been arguably his closest friend, if not lover. However, it's evident from Paul's lyrics and interview to Hunter Davies that he is entirely confused and hurt by John's behavior. Like he even complains everyone always looks to him for blame but nobody sees how much he was hurt by John. I'm not trying to take any sides here of course, both John and Paul had their faults and issues which complicated their relationship but genuinely curious to hear what your theory is.

honestly? bpd. like I barely even think of it as a theory, although ofc it is, bc sooooo many people agree that john could have Easily been diagnosed w bpd

like there's a thing called splitting w bpd where you just. like on a Dime you can't stand someone. and this can be very brief (I've split on people and it lasted like an hour) or permanent but it's very common. like you go every quickly from idealization to demonization of a person. or complete apathy (which is my personal kryptonite rip)

not only that but there's quite a few paul quotes where he talks about the fact that john started "slagging him off" as a way to distance himself from paul/the beatles and sort of "prove" to yoko that he was entirely devoted to her. which also makes sense to me as a bpd cunt bc I've unfortunately done that too 😭 and it's not necessarily an act either, it's just like.......... your brain can't make room for the way you feel for a New Person and an Old Person so you start analyzing everything that Old Person did and finding every flaw and magnifying it and blowing it up until you start feeling bitter or angry and suddenly in your mind someone that was once your world is like. some kind of villain out of a storybook.

and this is very very difficult to deal with and he wasn't really........ getting any help or outside people telling him that his view of paul/the beatles was being distorted. yoko was also pretty paranoid & from several sources encouraged his bitterness/paranoia (which isn't a dunk on her- I'm just a firm believer that she was a Complicated Person and villifying OR deifying is just weird and racist). not to Mention the scream therapy stuff, where I'm Pretty sure he himself has even said he was encouraged to pick apart his life and relationships and find Issues.

so you've got someone whose brain is already a goddamn game of mouse trap telling him that if he's not w paul/the beatles anymore he Has to hate him, surrounded by people encouraging that line of thought, and hounded by media asking him about it and pitting him against paul

and with that in mind, I do think it was also a bit exaggerated by the media. it was definitely encouraged, that's for sure. but even if john didn't Hate Paul, that's how it would be portrayed bc it made a more dramatic and interesting story. they'd ask him (and paul) leading questions to get the most material.

I honestly don't find it inexplicable that he'd turn on him without a "reason" so maybe my own mouse trap of a brain is part of why I disagree so much w that dominant narrative of rejection to explain it 😭 bc for me and many other bpd cunts I know it's just. it could Literally be nothing. often it's just a SENSE of rejection that will cause a split. and I'm willing to bet that their growing distance, paul pushing the band harder to work after brian died, paul not really accepting yoko and johnandyoko, the possible dying out of a sexual aspect of their relationship, paul proposing to jane & later getting with/marrying linda, paul Accepting john's ask for a divorce, paul going out and making an album on his own....... well. it's a perfect storm for my fellow bpd bitch to go "well fuck him I never loved him that guy fucking sucks and whatever he does doesn't hurt me anyway bc I don't care At All he's just the absolute worst and I can't stand him"

which of course had to be whiplash for paul. from his pov it was genuinely out of nowhere. but I will say all his comments about it and john needing to put him/the beatles aside for yoko and just..... all his quotes around john's mental health seem to be very VERY aware of all this. he knew john better than anyone & his main confusion seems to be around whether or not john ever actually loved or even liked him. which is an understandable emotional reaction. I think, though, he does show a deep understanding of john when he talks about all of this which makes me soooo :(

[leoruby-draws]

Decided to drop some Vanessa drawings, l love drawing her a lot! It can be a challenge with the hair and wings but thats part of the fun for me!

This here drawing kinda feels like a valentine type of drawing, tho the only love interest Vanessa had was a boy she had a crush on (did they date? Can't remember lol) who had a crush on Wonder Woman herself. Think his name was Brian or Brad? Poor Vanessa, thats middle school romance for you I guess.

Vanessa has been shown with almost every hair color and texture in the comics,seriously she's been blonde, a red head, brunette, its been all over the place. So I've been sorta compromising on which colors/textures I liked best. What I wanted to do was have Vanessa have her curly brown hair as a little kid pre-Silver Swan, have her hair red/straight due to her unwanted transformation, than slowly it turns less red and more wavy as time goes on. I made it pink, since as I've said before I just really like pink hair (I blame anime lol). Maybe as she grows older It'll become more orange, resembling her introduction as Silver Swan from the comics.

This drawing is just a bit of a tease on the story of Jason meeting Vanessa, looks like she wasn't too receptive to any company at the time. I have an idea of how they meet and even kinda how Jason convinces her to join up with him, Rose and Eddie. I've just been a bit lazy on getting it started.

Another drawing, I draw Vanessa sad a lot huh? Well her story is really sad, can't be helped. She's not just sad tho, there's an intense bitterness in her as well, she's truly angry at what's happened to her. We don't get to see it that much in the comics, as they're more focused on Diana's feelings and horror at the situation (Vanessa is a supporting character tbf).

When I'm making all my doodles for my TrWh au, I like to try to make the characters lives more happier and easier, to better fit the more light-hearted world I want to do. But sometimes the backstory of a certain character won't really allow for that, so I can try to make it a little less awful but to change it completely would mean I would have to come up with an entirely different backstory. But that would mean changing Vanessa, and part of what appeals her to me is that bitterness and anger.

At least she has more friends with the Outlaws in this universe, case in point:

Hopefully they can help her have some fun in her life.

Anyways, hope you liked all that!

[izloveshorses]

Cowboy Like Me

ao3

Rated M, 5k, smut, western au 🤠

~~~

“Get me a whiskey, will ya?”

The sun was just starting to set through the windows, the cigarette smoke and the dust in the air making the beams of light thick and hazy, almost heavenly. Dmitry about laughed at the thought. As if this place wasn’t as far from heaven as it could get. 

Dmitry poured the shot, the amber liquid catching in the light, and slid it to the man too drunk to sit upright. “Take it easy,” Dmitry said. “Last one, okay?” 

The man grumbled something unintelligible but he probably wouldn’t remember this conversation tomorrow, so Dmitry didn’t take it personally. 

Since things were slow, Dmitry took his time lighting a cigarette, inhaling slowly. Just one small breath of relief. It wasn’t like he had a bad life here. A rough one, sure, with the usual crowd he got, hungry and angry and bitter creatures they all were. And the saloon he owned, though filthy down to every crack in the wood, was, really, a fairly decent establishment. 

But he couldn’t help but notice he was mildly miserable almost all the time. That he felt more like a ghost than a person. Aimless and hollow.

The doors swung open, squeaking loudly on their hinges. His eyes couldn’t help but trail up to the source of the noise and linger there. By the sudden silence without the piano going or the noisy chatter, Dmitry wasn’t the only one to stare.

And who could blame him? She was too pretty, too clean, for such a place. Her reddish blonde hair was neatly pinned into an updo, the fabric of her dress lacy and such a rich and deep shade of blue it was nearly black, her chin raised so high there was no doubting she came from a world of civilized refinement far from here. Most folks around here got their pride beaten out of them. But this young lady hadn’t a speck of dirt or hardship on her. 

Her piercing blue eyes found his. Slowly the bar returned to its normal chatter, the piano picking up again. Dmitry started cleaning a glass as she made her way to order. 

“What’ll it be, miss?” he asked without looking up. 

“You stole something of mine last time I was here,” she said in a clear, commanding voice instead of ordering. “I came to demand you return it.”

He just raised an eyebrow at her. “Bold accusation. All I do is pour drinks.” 

“I know it was you.” 

“How do you know,” he tossed his towel over his shoulder and set the glass down, “that I didn’t pawn it off as soon as you left town? If you’re so sure I took whatever it is you’re looking for?” 

She was still narrowing her eyes at him. “I don’t think you would’ve done that.” 

He rested his hands on the bar, leering over her. “If you want it so bad,” he smirked, “you should just go on and take it.”

They stared, daring the other to break first. Slowly she reached to steal the glass he had just cleaned, and then, like she owned the place, found the neck of a bottle of vodka, all without breaking eye contact. And she poured herself a shot, knocked it back, her pretty throat swallowing it all in one gulp. While she was still in his space she plucked his cigarette from his lips and backed away from the bar. 

Dmitry, god help him, watched her amble up the stairs. When the chatter returned, he vaguely realized the whole saloon had fallen silent to watch the exchange. It wasn’t every day someone threatened the man who poured the drinks, after all.

“Hey, how come the lady can walk away without paying,” the drunk man at the bar whined, “but you’re charging me for every shot?”

Dmitry pulled the rag from his shoulder.  

“What, if I give you a kiss and bat my eyelashes, I get a discount?”

Dmitry removed his apron. “Just don’t fall off your stool, Ivan.” 

“Aw, fuck you!” 

He stepped out back to find Vlad, snoring with his feet propped up on the wooden porch railing. Drunk as a skunk already. He kicked at his legs and Vlad startled awake. “Cover the bar for me, will you?” Vlad only grunted, still nursing the heartbreak from when his lady left him a few weeks ago, it seemed. But he pushed himself up and followed Dmitry inside. Vlad was in charge of the hospitality side of things at this saloon, only here to keep the few rooms upstairs in order and such, but, even in his depressive state, he was capable of pouring drinks in Dmitry’s absence. Maybe. Hopefully. Probably.

With his friend behind the bar and the saloon seemingly calm— at least for now— he made his way up the stairs, and had to force himself not to take two steps at a time, only because he knew the entire saloon was eyeing him. A part of him didn’t really care anymore. On the landing Marfa and her girls silently glared at him through their cigarette smoke, flicking ash to the floor, while he passed. Maybe because they knew they would never get business from him in particular. 

He knocked twice at the usual door, then tried the knob. The sun cast long shadows in the room but his eyes still found her easily. She was seated at the rickety vanity, her hair unpinned and falling over her shoulders in golden curls, reading a book in one hand and holding her— his— cigarette in the other. He slowly pulled the door shut. 

Her eyes flicked up at him, then back down at whatever she was reading. “Took you long enough.”

In spite of himself, he smirked, because damn, he couldn’t help it. “In case you forgot, some of us actually have to work around here.” 

All she did was hum, unimpressed, and slowly rose to her feet after snuffling the cigarette in the ceramic ashtray. It had only been a few minutes, but the candles on the mantle were dripping wax. 

“And you’re the one who was gone for…”

His retort died on his tongue when she let her gorgeous, spotless dress slip to the dusty floor. 

All right then. 

Dmitry didn’t take his eyes off of her but blindly kicked off his boots. She moved in a wide arc, slow but purposeful, her footsteps creaking the floor, smirking at him all the way. And, like the complete idiot he was, his smile widened. “What brings you to Saint Pete’s this time?” he asked when she sat at the edge of the bed. “Business or pleasure?” 

Her blue eyes were light, playful. “Just passing through.” 

He tsked, kneeling in front of her. “You’ll have to be careful,” he drawled, “there are some scoundrels in these roadside towns who’ll rob you dry.” 

His hands slid down her ankles, unbuttoning her silk shoes one at a time. But her fingers tilted his chin up towards her so he would look at her. “I can handle myself,” she insisted. 

He managed a soft “I know” just before she kissed him, and flashes of light sparked in his vision. 

Dmitry didn’t know what to call it, this thing between them. ‘Arrangement’ was too detached a word. But it— whatever it was— started on an evening where she genuinely was passing through, all the way from New York to wherever it was she was going, he couldn’t remember, and by some stroke of luck her train had to stop here overnight instead. And when she ordered a drink at his saloon, alone and unaccompanied, well. He had to make sure she was all right. So he kept checking up on her, making small conversation. Even had a drink with her when she asked for the company after the bar died down. 

And there was this… current, of something. Of want, maybe. Of recognition. Between them. Something he hadn’t felt before. So when she beckoned him to follow her up to her room after he closed the bar, and then proceeded to unbuckle his pants, he was surprised, of course, but not startled. Because nothing had ever felt right, like this. 

Or maybe he was just really fucking lonely. 

What is this? he had asked. Not because he wanted to stop, but. It seemed like the only reasonable question to ask when a stranger was actively pulling down your trousers. 

Her blue eyes had met his. Whatever you want it to be. 

So he had cupped her face and bent forward and kissed her, and that was the end of that discussion, as far as he was concerned. 

The following morning she had resumed her journey, leaving him with nothing more than a kiss on the corner of his mouth when she thought he was still sleeping and the ghost of her smell on the ugly paisley sheets. And she stopped in on her way back a few days later, as if to prove she was not just some lucid hallucination, and then after another couple months she came in again, and… well. You see how the pattern formed. 

They didn’t talk much beyond what was necessary. She told him to call her Anya, though he was pretty positive that wasn’t her real name. He didn’t blame her. It didn’t matter anyway. All that mattered was that when she was here he wasn’t thinking about his dead father or the lawmen threatening to raid his saloon once a week or the patrons with guns and tempers who were sore losers at the poker table. All that mattered was her skin, her eyes, her sighs. 

It was obvious she came from money. Sometimes she would babble something in French, which meant she was well educated. Maybe her father was some oil tycoon or something. Sometimes he thought about asking, insisting on a real answer as to why she ventured all the way out here. But if she wanted him to know she would’ve told him. And, then again, he didn’t exactly want her to know all the dark parts of himself he wasn’t so proud of, either. 

So now, when she was letting him unlace her corset, he didn’t dare ask why. Or how. A lucky man at the poker table didn’t question his winning hand, didn’t ponder how the dealer possibly dealt him the perfect lineup of cards, didn’t ask if this was some fluke or trick. He just cashed in his chips and ordered another round of drinks before anyone got suspicious. 

Unlacing and unbuttoning her garters and petticoats was Dmitry’s way of cashing in. 

When she was here, he didn’t want to waste time on pondering such things, because if he did, there was a chance she would wake up and remember she had better things to do than romp about with some street rat who—

“Anything interesting happen today?” she asked as she peeled his shirt off of him, eager thing she was, and he couldn’t help but take some pride in how breathless she sounded. 

He was too busy to answer at first, tired of chasing after her, his hand curling around the nape of her neck and tangling in her hair so he could kiss her proper, nipping at her lower lip. Hold still, goddammit. And for a second she did. Melting against him, angling her jaw open and sighing, his hand cradling her head. His knees were on either side of her, kneeling like a stupid religious beggar, with her arms looping around his neck.

Her hands traced down to his chest, always curious, and pushed him away slightly. “I asked you a question, sir.”

He snorted an exasperated laugh. “I’m getting there,” he insisted, angling her jaw with his thumb so he could kiss her throat. “Missed you too much. And you’re still in too many clothes.” 

Her sigh was strained. “It hasn’t even been that long.” 

“Three weeks and four days,” he huffed out. The shortest time they’d been apart since this started, sure, but still. Enough to make him feel pathetic and impatient now that she was within his reach again. He felt his fists close around the fabric of her slip at her side and back. “So forgive me for being a little…” 

She bit back a smile. “Libidinous?” He didn’t know what that meant, and his confusion must’ve shown on his face because she let out an entirely unladylike giggle before he could puzzle out the word. This was always embarrassing, saying or doing something absolutely stupid in front of this beautiful, intelligent, remarkably educated young lady, revealing his hand that he really couldn’t keep up with her like he pretended he could. But instead of teasing him she lifted her arms so he could lift her slip off of her. And then, scarring his dignity even more, he actually let out a noise at the sight of her. He impatiently threw the garment away— off off off!— as she lowered herself to her back, hair fanning out around her on the mattress, pulling him down with her by his cheek and the scruff of his hair. 

Once she was finally—finally— bare, he hovered over her, planting kisses on her soft skin. Sometimes they didn’t even bother taking their clothes off before getting started. Other times she would slip into something a little easier to remove, or, like tonight, she would make him earn it, one button at a time. He huffed as he nudged her legs apart with his knees. “You missed it,” he said into her sternum. “Poker game this afternoon ended in a big fight. Had to pull them apart and they dueled out front.” 

“Sounds dangerous,” she said, fingers digging into his shoulder when he noses at her breast. “I thought I smelled gunsmoke when I got here.” 

He smiled at her. “Don’t worry, the crowd tonight has really mellowed down.” 

“I like it when they’re a little rowdy.” 

His mouth found her nipple, earning a broken exhale. She wouldn’t let him leave marks that would be visible in the morning— she was a lady, after all, wherever it was she came from and wherever she was going— but sometimes he nipped at spots only he would get to see. Like on her stomach or the inside of her thigh, or here, on the soft flesh of her breast. Just for him. “If they were rowdy,” he murmured, his voice husky and low, before hovering over her face, “I would still be stuck down there.” 

As if on cue, roars of laughter erupted downstairs, loud enough to hear up here. The piano kept on with its ragtime tunes, muffled by distance and the wooden walls. 

He thought she liked the idea of it, having a real cowboy from the Wild West all to herself, all rough and jagged with his rowdy saloon and bar fights and gunslingers obeying him, only tame for her. Little did she know he couldn’t shoot a gun to save his life and he was terrified of horses and bourbon gave him a stomach ache, so he made a pretty lousy cowboy at that. So maybe it was good they didn’t talk. Lest whatever illusion she had crafted for him gets ruined and she never comes back. 

She cupped his cheeks. “You wouldn’t dare keep me waiting.” He had just enough time to smirk before she tangled her fingers in his hair and kissed him. Her tongue slipping against the seam in his lips, his head tilting to part his mouth open for her and properly deepen the kiss, she tasted like the vodka he served, warm and sharp at the same time. Addictive. Making his stomach roll.

His fingers found their way between her legs, earning a muffled gasp into his mouth, a fist tightening around locks of his hair, the feeling so good he had to squeeze his eyes shut for a second. He knew her well enough by now, all her tells, that he could coax her over the edge pretty quickly. The rhythm of it. The allure, the push and pull. The way her hips bucked eagerly into his hand. Needy. Always so needy for him. 

“Easy,” he murmured. “Save some of that energy.” 

She huffed, annoyed he was telling her what to do, probably. “Need more.”

His fingers curled inside her, thumb brushing over her. “You know I’ll always take care of you.” The words came out a little softer than he intended, laced with something tender. But he moved a little faster, even though he didn’t like being told what to do, either. Her arms looped around his neck to keep him close. In return he sucked kisses down her neck, following the path of goosebumps lighting up her skin, paving the way for him.

She really was gorgeous, writhing below him like this, so much that sometimes it made him forget to breathe. She was probably the most beautiful thing he would ever get to see. And sometimes he couldn’t help but marvel at it, his luck of the draw, that she let him even look at her, let alone brand kisses on her skin, trace constellations on her freckles, whisper prayers into her flesh to a god that may have existed only to have created someone like her. 

When she came all over his hand, pulsing around his fingers, her nails dug into his shoulder blades so much it hurt. Let her mark him up. Let everyone know he was taken. If only for tonight. 

She sleepily opened her eyes, offering him a dazzling smile that he couldn’t help but kiss. With her breasts brushing against his bare chest and her knees squeezing his waist and her pretty sighs in his mouth, his trousers were tight and uncomfortable. With one hand he propped himself up above her and with the other he undid his belt and shimmied out of his pants.

She pressed a foot against his hip bone until he was on his side, and then on his back. Dmitry had stopped bothering to ask how she would like to take him this time. She always told him what she wanted, or just took care of it herself. Like now, as she was straddling his hips and angling him against her entrance. 

And then, god help him, he moaned when she sunk around him, her palms on his stomach, not one to waste time. She felt so good his vision went white for a few seconds. This was always good. Every time. 

She wiggled her hips back and forth for a second, either to test the waters or just to torture him, he wasn’t sure. But he did moan out a “Fuck…” just the same. 

She smirked, and then started moving for real. 

She just. She was so perfect, Dmitry didn’t think he could ever be with anyone else. She ruined him. Ruined everyone that wasn’t her. 

He wanted to sit up and kiss her, the sorry sap he was, but her hands were on his chest now, pinning him down. She was so small he could easily take control and have his way with her. But he liked seeing her like this, taking what she wanted from him, confident and needy. His fingers dug into her thighs, so hard that maybe he would leave bruises, and his hips snapped up to meet hers, needing to exert at least some of his frustrations of the day. That first night he had been so careful, fucking her slow and tender until the sun rose, but he learned pretty quickly that wasn’t what she came here for. She didn’t want gentle from him. So now he knew she could take it a little rough, a little mean, a little dirty. 

She really did love his body, he could tell by the way she always caressed him like this. Obviously. She wouldn’t be the first. But he was dumb enough to think there was something more to it than that. Hope, maybe. There were moments where she would look at him with something affectionate and loving, would laugh with such fondness at things he said, that his heart would crack with want. 

Sometimes he wondered if he could get her to his shitty house instead of staying in this shitty room, even if it wasn’t much better. But it was his own home, and he had his kitchen, and maybe he could make her breakfast in the morning… 

She let out a little moan, his attention snapping back to the present. Her breasts bouncing, hair cascading over her shoulders, back arched… he didn’t want to miss a thing. 

His hands slid up to hold her waist, hip bones digging into his palms, steadying her. She was close. “Doing so good, darling,” he encouraged. “Want you to feel good.” 

She bit her lip, rolling her hips this way and that. “Fuck,” she swore, “don’t stop doing that.”

In spite of everything he smirked, but did as told, pistoning his hips at the angle she was clearly enjoying. The mattress groaned and creaked under them as she bounced faster on him. 

Dmitry wasn’t an idiot; he could piece together the clues. She probably didn’t get to be this… unbridled… where she came from. Didn’t have the freedom to curse or get mouthy with a man without consequence. Didn’t get to ride whatever man she pleased without marrying him first. And Dmitry was probably nothing more than a means to find release from having to be so buttoned up all the time. 

He didn’t know why she came here. Why she picked him. What kind of life she came from. But if she needed to cope with whatever darkness existed in her or her life— and, let’s face it, everyone on the fucking planet needed to cope with something— then he was sure as hell not gonna complain about it. He was happy to provide whatever distraction she wanted. Even if it left him ragged and gasping and ruined. 

Her hand found his, locking them together, eyes holding his own. “Dima…” 

She didn’t often use his name. Not this gently. And there was that feeling again. Like his heart— his soul— was trying to hammer its way out of his chest to get to hers. Like it recognized her. 

“Anya, I—” he whimpered, cutting himself off. No need to tell her he loved her or something stupid. 

He kept babbling, nearly growling, as he felt her reach her peak. That’s it, feel good on me. Feel good on me— 

When his thumb brushed over her she shattered above him, completely wrecking him in the process. It took everything he had to thrust a few more times before he spilled himself inside her. 

After she slumped on top of him, breathing hard, she curled against his side, and he kissed the top of her head. The sun had set by now so she was nothing more than shades of silver and blue in the evening light. This was always his favorite part. Where she let him hold her, dropping that mask of regality and haughtiness, where she was just a girl and he was just a boy. And he could pretend, at least until the second or even the third round, that he was hers and she was his, in this small way.

He was happy, here, like this. You could say that was probably just the sex talking, but. He felt safe with her. Felt wanted. For once. 

“Do you have to go back downstairs?” Anya finally asked. 

He shook his head. Vlad could handle it. Hopefully. Maybe. Regardless, Dmitry wasn’t sure if he could even walk himself out of bed just yet, anyway, his legs were still shaking. 

Vlad probably wasn’t even aware of what Dmitry was up to right now, he wasn’t exactly lucid at the moment. Dmitry didn’t blame him. If Anya decided to never see him again he would probably be in the same state of misery, too. 

At first, Dmitry thought Vlad wasn’t aware of what was going on between him and this young lady from the east coast. But last time, the morning after Anya had left, Dmitry was sweeping the floor when Vlad stopped him, helped him light a cigarette. 

Is she paying you? Vlad had asked. 

Dmitry’s fist tightened around the handle of the broom, exhaling a long drag. No. But he gave his answer quietly. Because it wasn’t like women hadn’t paid him for a night upstairs before. 

Are you paying her?

Dmitry’s head snapped up. No! 

Ah. I see. Vlad only nodded thoughtfully. Dmitry thought that would be the end of the discussion, so he continued his chore, but his friend rested a hand on his shoulder. She’ll break your heart.

At the time Dmitry had rolled his eyes. What did he know? 

But now, his sorry heart felt so fragile he thought it could shatter at any moment. 

Because happiness didn’t really exist for people like him, in this place. Because men like him were destined for nothing more than to drink themselves to sleep on the back porch and wake with wet eyes, or slump over on a barstool because he had nowhere else to go, or get shot in front of a saloon after a poker game. 

“You sure you don’t want to go down and check?” she went on. Dmitry shook his head again and his fingers brushed up and down her spine. “We started earlier than usual.”

He smiled up at the ceiling, tilted his head down to look at her. “Do you want me to leave you alone for a while?”

“No,” she said. “It’s just… you like taking care of people, is all.”

He blinked at her, a little surprised. If this was just supposed to be a casual rendezvous here and there, how had she noticed this? How could she observe parts of himself even he wasn’t aware of?

Dmitry escaped the warmth of her arms and rolled to sit at the edge of the mattress. She whined in annoyance, but he only bent forward to collect his trousers and dig through one of the pockets. His fingers snagged on the chain and he held it aloft so she could see it, nearly laughing at her expression— relieved and incredulous how dare you at the same time. If she weren’t naked and lithe and irresistible on the bed he might’ve even called her adorable. When he brushed her hair away and secured the chain around her neck he kissed the bump in her spine where the clasp fell. The golden locket, studded with green gemstones, was resting on her sternum between her breasts, back where it belonged. 

Anya’s fingers traced over the locket while she flattened herself onto her back. “So you did steal it.” He grinned and nodded as he got comfortable at her side again, arm draped over her middle, kissing her shoulder. It would’ve been so easy to swipe her jewelry or her purse from her every time she visited him. If it was anyone else, he might’ve gone and done it. But he didn’t dare with her. Not until last time, when he was watching her sleep, the locket sparkling in the moonlight. “Why?” 

He swallowed, wet his lips. “Because I wanted you to come back.” 

She wore it every time, never took it off. He figured this one would be important enough. 

Her eyebrows furrowed. “I always come back.” 

But he never knew when she would come back. Or even if. If this would be the goodbye, this time. And, dammit, not even his spite could stop his heart from turning sentimental and sappy at the thought of losing her. Even though he knew she came from a world of gold lockets and pretty parasols and fancy garden parties and her pick of the litter of eligible suitors— hell, she could even be married for all he knew— he heard himself ask, “Why do you?”

She bit her lip, hesitating. Perhaps deciding if she should keep playing their little game or actually be honest. Her fingers picked up the locket, holding it up so they both could see. “This belonged to my grandmother,” she said quietly, popping it open to reveal not a photo but an inscription. He hadn’t opened it at all, felt too wrong and invasive, but she was showing him now. “I haven’t seen her since I was seven years old.” 

Dmitry frowned, struggling to follow. “Dead?”

She shook her head. “She lives in Paris now.”

“Oh.” Paris. The complete opposite of this town, he was sure. 

“And the life my family wants for me…” she brushed her fingers over the inscription— something written in French, he now recognized— and closed the locket, set it over her heart. “It’s not enough.”

Dmitry swallowed. But this still didn’t explain anything. “Anya…” he whispered. That may not have been her real name, but she responded to it like it was, her blue eyes flicking to his. “Why do you keep coming back here?”

She looked so vulnerable, so small, like one wrong word from him would cleave her in half. But she took a breath. “Hope,” she finally answered. “That maybe this time you’ll ask me to stay.” 

Now it was Dmitry’s turn to be confused. “Who are you running from?” he asked, because that was the only reasonable explanation as to why anyone would want to stay in this dump, to stay with him of all people. 

But she just shook her head, her smile so fond he started to doubt. “Running to,” she corrected. 

Oh. He wanted to argue, to say no one in their right mind would choose this, that he— a nearly illiterate orphan with hardly a penny to his name— couldn’t give her the life she deserved, the lifestyle she was used to. Nothing about him or his life had happiness on the horizon. But. but. She was looking at him like she already was happy. Like he had the answer to what she was looking for. He didn’t know what to do with it. 

And, well. If happiness existed for him, here she was, in person form. 

He maneuvered so that he was hovering over her and dropped a single kiss to her neck. “You’ll have to work,” he drawled. Her face lit up with relief. “Everyone around here has to earn their keep.” 

Even her laugh was pretty. “Of course.” Her knee slid up his side, until her calf was hooking over his hip. “I’m a hard worker.” 

“Pretty thing like you?” He found her hand, smooth as porcelain, a hand that hadn’t seen a day’s labor. But she was strong. He knew that. She was brave for coming all the way out here on her own so many times. She had to know how to fend for herself, how to take care of things. And she was smart as a whip. Not porcelain, then. Polished and beautiful, yes, but not brittle. Made of stone. His lips twitched into a smirk before he kissed her knuckle. “Think you can handle it?” 

Her hand dragged up to cup his face. “I’ll have you know,” she started, “where I come from, I am the fastest sharpshooter in the county.” To prove her point, she took her thumb and forefinger and angled her hand at him, closing one eye, like she was aiming a revolver. “I’ll protect you.”

His smile grew. Well, then. He kissed her mouth, slow and soft and sweet, like she deserved. Maybe one day he could see himself deserving the same tenderness, too. “Stay.” 

[somethingthing]

Bitter Old Man

Joel Miller x reader

Warnings: a few curse words and angst (arguing), fluff towards the end

Word count: 1057

A/n: That’s it, I’m officially writing Joel fics, I absolutely love the show and can’t wait for more episodes. That’s right, I CAN’T wait, so I’m watching the gameplays, a certain someone just got their head smashed in :’)

Joel had been hesitant to smuggle Ellie out, so had you, but if you didn't take her, someone else would. 

You were held up in one of the decaying buildings, it looked like an old shop. A few items were scattered on the floor, but other than that it was empty and secure. Joel had insisted on triple checking.

“At lest she falls asleep fast” you looked down at the girl sleeping on the floor beside you, using her backpack as a pillow.

“It´s not too late to turn back” Joels gaze was focused on her “We turn back now, dump her off and let someone else take her to where she needs to be” he switched his gaze to you.

“No we can´t” you understood why he wanted to, his brother came first and with Ellie that mission became compromised. He gave you a questioning look, not understanding why not “Joel, she´s a fourteen year old girl being handed form person to person, besides, if she truly can help end this as she says, I´m not sure I trust anyone else with her”

“She is still not our problem, we should be finding Tommy and then be done with it” he sounded almost angry, getting out a stressed whisper “A cure? Bullshit, she made that up just to stay alive a while longer” 

You looked at him disbelief “What is your problem?” you quickly looked to Ellie to see that she was still sleeping “Are you really so bitter that you´ve lost all hope and is gonna blame a little girl for your problems?”

Letting out a deep sigh and dragging his hand over his face, he got up from the floor across from you “I ain´t blaming her, I´m saying that I have more important things to do with my time than looking after a helpless brat!” the frustration was clear in his voice even if he tried to keep it down.

You got up as well, careful not to wake Ellie. You moved away from her, still keeping her in sight but enough distance to not wake her with your voices “Okey let me ask you this, if we don´t help her, who will?” he opened his mouth to answer but you stopped him “And don´t give me that ´not my problem´ crap”

He closed it again for a second, but opened it again “Three weeks” he stepped closer and lowered his voice “You really believe that she's been bitten for three fucking weeks? She´s a ticking bomb!” he wasn't wrong, no matter how long she had fought off the infection, you had no idea how long her body would be able to keep it up.

“Then lets get her to The Capitol building as fast as we can” you were sick of his arguing, turning around and starting the move back to Ellie.

“What then? For all we know Marlene could be dead and we´ll never get our payment” he reached out and caught your arm, forcing you to stay “I get that she's gotten your hopes up about a cure, but come on, you´re not that stupid”

You turned you head back to him “If you wanna be a bitter old man, then fine, be that, but leave me the fuck out of it!” now it was your turn to sound angry “And besides, I´m not leaving her out in this world all alone, would you ever have left Sarah?” the moment her name left you lips you wanted to take it back.

He yanked your arm which he still had a hold of “Watch it” his voice was dangerously low and his face dangerously close to yours “She´s off limits, got it?” it wasn't a question, more of a warning about a line he dared you to cross.

You stayed quiet for a moment, cursing yourself for bringing her up “Joel, I´m sorry, that wasn't fair, I didn´t...”

“Mean it? Yes you did” he let go of your arm “Get some rest, we move out in a few hours” and with that the conversation was over.

You didn't get any rest, but twisted and turned instead. As soon as you all were packed up again, you headed out. Ellie must have noticed something was off, after a few attempts to lighten the mood she kept quiet. 

You made a quick stop, searching one of the old buildings for supplies “Listen, I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have brought her up” you watched how Joel searched through a cabinet.

“Where´s Ellie?” he didn´t turn around, but kept looking through the drawers.

“She´s in the other room” you moved closer “Joel could you just please look at me?” reaching out you put your hand on his shoulder. He stood up straight, looking you in the eyes.

Without saying anything you hugged him, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing gently. At first he didn´t move, but then you felt him return it, slowly “I know you´re sorry, I just...” he paused, thinking of his next words “I just haven´t heard someone say her name in awhile”

You drew away enough to look at him “I know” you didn´t know what else to say, letting you gaze study his face. The memory from the night before, of his face being this close to yours fluttered in your mind. Without thinking you reached out and let your lips meet his, it was fast and thoughtless.

You made yourself ready to apologize, drawing away from him, but he stopped you with a hand on your waist. He drew you in, deepening the kiss you had started “Don’t you dare apologize” he breathed out.

Before you could respond, Ellie stepped in to the room “I knew it! I knew something was going on with you two!” she looked at you proudly as you drew away from Joel, then she gave you a suspicious look “Wait did the two of you… EW I knew I heard voices last night, gross!” She spited out making a disgusted face.

“Okey kid, that´s enough” Joel shook his head and gave her a tired look, but you could see the twitch at the corner of his mouth “Let´s get a move on, we ain´t got all day”

“I can’t believe it” she stated and turned around, exiting the room again “I was in the same room, yuck” you heard her mumble to herself.

You looked at each other, laughing quietly to yourself. Nothing more had to be said, at least she hadn’t heard your argument and that was the important part. That, and what had just happened between you, if you we’re going on this suicide mission you would at least do it together.

———————————

Thank you for reading <33 I’m gonna go and cry in a corner about Joel now

[ninyard]

6, 12, 13, and 23 for the aftg ask game!

- @you-know-i-get-itt

Already answered 6!

12. Favourite narrative foil?

I don’t know if I have this right I haven’t studied English/literature stuff in…like 8 years and I’m kind of stupid academically so. Forgive me if this analysis is absolutely wrong and not what that means but

I think Andrew/Renee, maybe. Renee who went through a bunch of the same things Andrew went through, becoming kind through her pain. Seeing how ugly and terrible and bad the world can get and just… being so determined to not be that person anymore. She acknowledges the horrible things she’s done with regret and doesn’t feel proud of her actions, she hates the person she used to be, she found light and meaning in life and turned her hatred of the world into smiles and positivity and spreading love like it’s her life’s mission.

And Andrew became bitter. Andrew became angry, and resentful, and lost any blatant outward kindness that he might’ve had. Andrew became violent and hateful and intolerant to bullshit and unkind people. The lessons Andrew learned from his trauma was not that he was the victim of terrible people, but that if terrible people wanted something from him, they would just take it. Renee sees the bad day someone might’ve had, while Andrew sees an asshole who has wronged him. Renee fought back against her abusers when Andrew never could. Andrew took Renee’s knives from her. They’re not true foils of each other, I know that really, but I just love seeing the different responses to the same kinds of trauma. How they started on this path that looked the same and both ended up two totally opposite kinds of people. IDK! that’s not a great analysis rly but yeah!!!

(Neither of their reactions to their trauma is wrong or right btw - just because Andrew’s sounds more insulting and negative, it doesn’t make it a bad response. Renee deserves to be angry and bitter and resentful too. They both rightfully deserve to be pissed at the life they were given. Renee just decided not to outwardly be that way.)

13. Favourite narrative symbolism?

(Was it intentional that number of this q was 13??) The number 13 and the keys I think!!

23. Something you are very sure will happen in TSC2

Kevin and Jean facing off on the court. The jerejean pottery class of course. An argument with Jeremy’s family. MAYBE Jean having the water boarding conversation with someone:

(Things I would like to see that are not so certain: Lukas blaming Jean for Graysons inevitable death, Jeremy losing his cool, Jean gets a sex toy, Ichirou cameo, the Ravens implode from the inside)

[beevean]

What did you think of Annette from Castlevania: Nocturne? Personally, her altered background did nothing but add even more filler nonsense on what is already a cramped season. And even then, her character arc took up more attention than Richter's, which is quite appalling since her arc had nothing to do with the main storyline (all it did was drag the show even more).

Not to mention, she spent most of the season hating on Richter for no reason, calling him a "child" and "useless as fuck" on certain occasions. I also can't forgive her for chastising Richter as a coward when he ran away at the sight of his mother's killer, when she literally blew their plan at the Chateau and indirectly killed Edouard when she saw Vaublanc, her mother's killer. And even then, no one blamed her for that, which makes it even worse since she constantly makes everything about her and her tragic past as a slave.

So the sudden hint at their romance was both cheap and forced as their chemistry is non-existent throughout the story. I still remember how Steve Stark, a background designer for both Netflixvania shows, fighting against the fans for this decisions, claiming:

"Go complain about something that matters."

Which by itself is a self-own. If it didn't matter like you claimed, why go through such lengths to change her entire character. Surely it must matter to you.

N!Annette should've been an original character while the original Annette is left well enough alone (to which I'm trying to do in the rewrite). And to dunk on the people who would say that game Annette had no personality and is pointless, need I remind you that Rosaly from Curse of Darkness never appeared in the game at all yet the writers behind the manga dedicated their time to flesh her out in the manga itself. So it's not the characters that are the problem, it's the writers.

Sorry about that whole rant. Caught myself blabbering there.

She is not a character. She is discourse bait, and as such, I don't engage with her or the discourse surrounding her seriously.

You pretty much said everything. Annette is insufferable because in theory her flaws make sense. She's brash, angry, has little patience for anyone, wants to do things her own way, maybe even looks down on "privileged" people out of mistrust and bitterness: all behaviors that I can see stemming from the background of a runaway slave. Her breakdown indirectly causing Edouard's death? We have a decent conflict here! (ignoring the fact that Edouard is also not a character so I don't really feel anything for him.) But then she becomes utterly infuriating when the asshole dares to make fun of Richter for his lack of magic, when he all but told her that he lost his powers due to his mother's death - or at the very least, he told her that his dead mother could do magic and maybe that would be a sore spot for him! And the worst part is, Maria and Tera are standing there with no reaction! Tera, you useless idiot, this stranger that already proved herself unreliable is pushing your adopted son's trauma button! Do something!

Same when Ricther runs away, she is all too happy to insult him, call him "useless as fuck", and you think that Cecile would knock some sense into her and be like "hey girl you also ran away from the man who hurt you and killed your mother, maybe don't be so quick to judge", but noooooooo we need to talk about how Annette's character is literally "ex-slave" (hey she says it, not me), culminating in her saying "as if those french people could ever understand us!" woman what is you doing could we please talk about Annette now and stop coddling her????????

And you can look around and think, oh, maybe they're right. Evil, violence, and oppression everywhere. Even these French with their high ideals. What do they know about what we've suffered? And what do they care? They'll build their new world, but it won't be freedom or equality or brotherhood for us.

You were drawing a parallel and trying to teach her empathy for someone that, before being a white European, is a victim of vampires and evil just like her, and you end up telling her that no one else will have empathy for her??????????

And remember: Richter likes this asshole so much that the memory of her is what unlocks his magic! Not his mother. Not his grandfather. This stranger who has been cordial at best, and antagonistic at worst. what's with these shows and having the most godawful romance stories this side of twilight

So the sudden hint at their romance was both cheap and forced as their chemistry is non-existent throughout the story.

Annette suffers from a similar problem as Sypha and Isaac: they're stuck in the role their videogame counterparts have, even when it makes no sense. Sypha bullies Trevor as much as Alucard does, and in fact she seems to like the latter more (when Alucard is a cock to Trevor and he understandably lashes out back, Sypha tells him to grow up, the absolute fuck), but oh wait, she needs to fuck Trevor as per canon! So she travels with him and they're suddenly all cutey and lovey. Isaac is forced to resent Hector for his "betrayal" of Dracula, when if you watch the season, Isaac should only blame himself for being an utter negligent dumbass in regards to Carmilla, who was the real mastermind and he knew it. Annette is nothing but scornful towards Richter, but we need to push them together because hey Annette was meant to be the love interest, and the writing is even worse here because at least Trepha takes two seasons to become canon, but here we go from "stupid Belmont, useless as fuck" to them blushing together in the span of, like, seven episodes?

If it didn't matter like you claimed, why go through such lengths to change her entire character. Surely it must matter to you.

And this is what I mean with "discourse bait". Nothing about Annette is genuine. She is a stereotypical, safe, flat character, she's both the "tough girlboss who is mean to nearly everyone but we swear she's kind inside!" and the "tough black woman with a slave past, tragic enough to make her badass but without more questionable parts like her for example betraying fellow slaves to save her own skin" (so that you get called sexist and racist if you don't like how much of an ass she is! How convenient. Even though I'd argue is much more racist that she freed herself with god powers rather than her own human ingenuity...); and on top of that she's derivative from a game character, a fairly minor one too, so that if you don't like that she has "replaced" the original you can be told that you are, once again, racist, and anyway the original Annette was bad anyway so why would you care, you stupid purist? They did the same with Isaac, before he became the Gary Stu of the story.

And this is why the genuine racists who don't have a better argument against her than "muh wokeflix, how dare they have black people in my fantasy series" piss me off. You are poisoning the well. Stop it. Get better arguments.

And to dunk on the people who would say that game Annette had no personality and is pointless, need I remind you that Rosaly from Curse of Darkness never appeared in the game at all yet the writers behind the manga dedicated their time to flesh her out in the manga itself. So it's not the characters that are the problem, it's the writers.

You can make the same argument with nearly every character in both shows. The hints of personality are there, they only need to be fleshed out! Rosaly was fleshed out into being more than a "kind girl": she became too kind, and stubborn and naive and suffering from loneliness, and that made her interesting while still keeping true to her general archetype and role! They could have deduced from the games that Trevor is a charismatic, friendly individual with a hotheaded streak, instead of turning him into the most cliché cynical drunkard! They could have deduced from the games that Annette, despite her role as damsel in distress, has a lot of courage, from the scene where she nearly kills herself out of spite for Dracula, instead of a generic badass with godlike powers! But no character is kept faithful, there was no respect or care for anything, nothing but inflated superiority that they can do better (with fans sadly agreeing), everyone is just a bunch of OCs masquerading as canon characters for the sake of being clapped for "fixing" the stupid writing of the games, even when said characters were already fleshed out enough like Alucard or the Devil Forgemasters so they really had no "muh 8-bit game" excuse (and if they couldn't keep Isaac's flamboyant personality then they're just homophobic cowards)

tl;dr i don't like annette and i can only hope that alucard hijacks the story so much that she'll have minimal screentime. i mean he's hardly better, but at least i can call him a cunt without risk of getting doxxed or shit

[justabigoldnerd]

Hey y'all, in just two days it'll be Grief Month, so I've decided to compile a list of things that people who haven't experienced the loss of a close loved one might not think about when writing grief in fiction.

*eye twitches*

This is definitely a healthy way to cope probably

ANYWAY (below the cut because TW for death and grief)

Absence. You notice what's *not* there anymore, and you notice it *loudly*. This is the big one that I don't see in a lot of media. The space just feels empty. Devoid. For a real life example, I had a beloved cat who would literally scream for attention because he didn't understand how to come up and ask for it. When he disappeared, I couldn't stop thinking about how quiet it was. Something was very obviously missing. So, make your characters notice the lack of the person they're mourning. A lag in conversation where they would've added a quip, the kitchen being silent when it was always bustling, a character who always left the TV or radio on passes and suddenly there is no show or song playing quietly in the background. The quiet, the absence, it's oppressive. It makes you want to cover your ears. Oddly enough, sometimes that helps. A song that covers this well is "Through Me (The Flood)" by Hozier.

Memories. This one seems obvious, but it's not just crying in bed to a photo of them. It's *avoiding* photos of them, reminders of them, rooms they've been in, places they've frequented. Everything that reminds you of them feels like it's tearing your body in two with rusty shears. I once locked myself in the middle bathroom of my house because being in any other room reminded me too much of my dog who had passed suddenly at 9 months and I had a panic attack fueled by memories of her. I couldn't even sing or dance anymore for a long time because that's what I was doing with her just the week before she passed. I've only recently been able to look at photos or videos of her again.

Time. In mid September, it will have been two years since my best friend, that 9 month old pup passed. I am still reeling with grief. Your body is a clock and it *will* remember when your loved one passed, even if your mind doesn't. You'll start to think of them more often, you'll start going through the cycle of grief again and you won't know why, until it hits you. It's that time of year again.

Blame. Irrational blame, specifically. You'll blame yourself, others, "if only I had been quicker", "if I had known", "if they'd have just locked the door like I kept telling them to", "if they paid closer attention", and even "If they'd have *cared* this wouldn't have happened." It's wrong, it's bitter, it's hurtful, but it's a part of that grief.

Keepsakes. Not your father's watch or your grandmother's blanket (which are still perfectly lovely and valid!), but the pants with holes in the ankles from my late dog's teeth, or the glasses with a crack splitting one of the lenses from where she grabbed them and took off. I was so angry at her for it at the time. Now they're some of my most prized possessions. I could never get rid of them. They still have her marks. In that same vein is the amount of stray hairs of hers I would find. I kept them all. Sometimes I would just sit on the floor and pick up her fur. The day I realized her fur had stopped showing up on my clothes, I sobbed.

Love. We all know the quote. "What is grief if not love persevering?" As beautiful as it is, I call bullshit. Grief is selfish. It takes all the love you have inside of you and covers it in cement because if it can't have it, no one can. It prevents you from loving. In fact, it made me hate one of my dogs, Petunia, for a long time. It wasn't her fault. She is a beautiful, sweet, sensitive little flower and I do love her now. But grief made me look at her and feel so much rage. Because that was supposed to be *my* pup, not this new thing. I still can't love in the same capacity that I loved Giz (my 9 month old pup, my best friend, my world). I love my dog, the dog that chose *me*, Laika, in a different way. She wormed her way past the walls that grief had built up and made a home in my heart. But Giz lives there too. Laika is my girl, but she'll never be my Giz.

That's all I can think of right now. I might add more as the month wears on and I remember things. Hope this was at all helpful and not just. Idk. Sad.

[hellsbellssinclub]

Laura Kinney- Talon.

AU under the drop

An AU where Synch dies early in the Vault and there is no relationship:

Laura is left alone. For years and years after the death of her comrades and friends. She is bitter, angry and alone. She stays sane by remembering her family, her little sisters, her big brother (whom she is now older than) her father (who she too now has grown older than in ways that she did not want to think about) and those she called friends.

She hates she did not get to explore those feelings that were starting to grow in her for Synch, as absences does not make the heart fonder when she is fighting for her life alone. She hates that the world outside this place turns on and on without her.

She almost gives up hope that she would ever leave when she is finally saved. Saved and returned home. To her little sister. To their little house. To safety and peace.

Only, she finds her home empty. No little sister to greet her. No pet wolverine eating her furniture. Her brother is away. Her father awkward and avoiding her.

And a woman with her face and memories left to her explain what had happened while she was trapped alone.

The woman, her clone. Her replacement. He perfect copy.

She had been born from the Five. When she, the real (is she real? Now that there is a copy of her) Laura and her team failed to meet their check in the worst was assumed and they were brought back, the way all dead are here on this paradise island. This Laura before her has all of Laura’s memories before the Vault. All of her horrors and best qualities. Everything that has ever made her, her.

Laura cannot blame the young Laura for living her life, while she was trapped in that hell. The whole protocol was in place for a reason. She (this young Laura) was supposed to be here.

Laura herself was now an oddity in the world. Not the oddest thing to ever happen, but it does not matter in the end. She is happy to have two of herself, in the end. She has grown so, so much in her time in the vault. Having so much time on her hands have her the chance to grow past her traumas. To heal from them. Absence does not make the heart fonder but it does make it easier to forget what had been done with her.

All she really wants is her family together again.

The copy, the young Laura whose green eyes were pinched in pain, explains why the house was empty.

Gabby was dead. Murdered while is the supposed safety of their little island. She may heal, but even those who can heal like their family can die.

And that is what happened to Gabby. And unlike everyone else, Gabby was a clone. And Clones were not allowed to come back. The Five refused to create a precedent where clones are be brought back, least the likes of Jean Greys clone comes back.

Jonathan the wolverine was no longer in their home, he spent all his time at the location where Gabby died. Guarding the area as there was no body to be buried. The Five had cremated her. So that Sinister could not use her body material to do whatever evil science he does.

Her heart is hardened. It was a broken little thing that she had been slowly healing before she had gone into the vault. Gabby had been the reason she had been healing. She was a light in the darkness that was the life of Laura Kinney.

The young Laura breaks down in her arms, telling her even more bad news. Bellona was missing, presumed dead. There was a mass breakout in the shield holding cells where Bellona was being kept. The area of Bellona’s cell was had been destroyed, her blood was on the floor but no body had been recovered.

Laura had been trying ever since Bellona had been arrested to have her released. To have her sister returned to her. Tried and failed time and time again. There was always a reason as to why they could not release her. Or exonerated her. And the X-Men and Council would not allow her to risk their nation for a Clone, even her own.

She-Hulk had taken the case for her but had been road blocked time and time again. She was supposed to go and see her, after finishing this mission in the vault. So they could come up with a new plan.

And now it seems that everything she has done has failed. Her little sisters are dead or presumed dead. Her brother is in the wind, on a mission she is told, lied to. Her father will not meet her eyes.

And her little copy, her little Laura, is offering to kill herself so that she does not have to deal with having a useless clone around.

With a heavy heart and anger mixed darkly with love, Laura takes her little clones hands and vowed to protect her. Names her the real Laura. Says that the name gifted to her, to them by their mother is no longer she holds close to her heart.

She names herself Talon. And she begins to plan.

There were other ways to bring people back from the dead, than what the Five can do.

Zelda. Gabby. That girl in Paris, who Gabby would never tell her the name of.

She would bring them back.

She will find a way.

And Bellona? Well, missing and presumed dead does not mean dead.

Talon will find her sister. And if she was dead, truely dead, then she will be brought back too.

Akihiro… she will track down what had happen to him and get him on board with her plans too. He will help. Or he will keep out of her way.

Her little Laura looked like she could use a mission to keep her mind focused. She was happy that her little copy had found a friend in Jublee, like she had once upon a time. But she knew herself, a mission, one that meant something would make her feel better.

(She would ignore her father for now. There was much she needed to speak to him about but those she has sent years thinking of it she does not know if she is ready to say it)

Talon was a hunter. She will hunt down a way to bring back her sisters.

She did not paradise. She just wanted her family.

And Talon had vowed to herself, while in the loneliness of the vault, that she will never deny herself what she wants.

Art made with pencil, fine liner on paper

[a-couple-of-notes]

parallels and quests in stray gods

So a couple of people have pointed out that the Asterion/Hecate quest in Stray Gods is meant to parallel Freddie's character arc...and yeah, it absolutely is. An awkward but charming and devoted person secretly in love with their best friend, who they live with? The entire quest predicated on the idea that it's better if you confess your feelings rather than keeping them bottled up? Of course it's a parallel.

But also...all the quests are meant to parallel the LI's character arcs.

I'll start with Pan, since he's the biggest stretch; his parallel is Medusa's den. It's the only quest he shows up for, if you're playing it that way. In it, Grace confronts Medusa, who has been ostracized and suspected by the other Idols, who has done some bad things but not everything she's been blamed for, who's working on some form of redemption. Depending on how you play your relationship, this can parallel Pan's character, as your influence inspires him to try to be a better person.

Aphrodite's party is Apollo's parallel quest. Apollo and Aphrodite are similarly depressed, stuck in the past, and deeply fixated on a person they've lost and wronged (Calliope and Hephaestus, respectively.) Just like Aphrodite believes the only way to deal with her trauma is to pass her eidolon onto Venus and retreat from the world for a while, Apollo believes he must hide away, mourning Calliope and protecting Grace from himself. It's even implied that the Apollo before Lucas wanted to give up his eidolon entirely, having found peace in death (a self-explanatory parallel to Aphrodite's ritual). Through your explorations of and responses to Aphrodite's worldview/ritual, you're determining your own stance on Apollo's very parallel worldview: can you find the joy in living?

And the journey to the Underworld is Persephone's parallel quest. Like Persephone, Orpheus is hurt, angry, and holding a grudge. They've both been wronged by Hades and are relying on the throne to give them some semblance of what they really want (Eurydice for Orpheus, Calliope and peace for Persephone). The quest to get Persephone's throne and confront Orpheus is really, like all the others, helping Persephone face herself and move past it.

Incidentally, this is why (even though there's technically no canonical version of the songs) I think some of them work narratively better than others. I have to let Freddie intervene in "Cast a Spell" because it's a step on her journey to confessing to Grace (whether Grace reciprocates or not). I have to urge Aphrodite to live in "The Ritual," because Apollo's parallel character arc is all about finding the joy in life again. I need to make Persephone reconcile with Orpheus in "The Throne" because that's the culmination of Persephone reconciling with the darkest, most bitter parts of herself (bonus points if she gives up the throne, too).

Anyway, Stray Gods is a good game with some good love interests.

[los-ninos-tortugas]

I wanna give this motherfucker the Peepaw treatment soooo badly and I don’t even know why

Maybe it’s cuz he doesn’t have the same self blaming, “it’s all my fault” hang ups that tends to get assigned to Rise F!Leo. No, all his bitterness is directed outwards. He felt like Donny abandoned them. He watched his father give his life to save him and his brothers only for that sacrifice to drive them all apart. He watched his brothers grow into (arguably) the worst possible versions of themselves.

And then that’s all gone, suddenly. How he gets back to the past or survives the fight with the Shredder, I have no idea. But everyone seems to have collectively Decided that Rise F!Leo can survive a laser blast that literally disintegrates him on screen and still end up back in the past anyway so I think anything goes really. The fact of the matter is he’s there, in a past that maybe doesn’t belong to him.

And it must be so strange because maybe he feels like he should be glad to have survived, to have been given this second chance but… I feel like he’d also feel so far removed from it all. He got so used to the way things were in his universe that he forgot how they used to be. Seeing Leo and Raph now, who still argue, yes, but who still have that brotherly bond, he must wonder if it will truly last. Donatello, maybe not his, but still as young as his last memory of him, who is the only other one who knows the world he came from, but Donatello only spent a short time there and was scarred by the experience. He can’t bring himself to let those thirty years weigh on his brother’s shoulders too. He was so angry when he first saw Donny again back in his world, but in the here and now all of that just bleeds out of him. This Donatello is still just a kid, like his brother when he disappeared, still just a kid. And his younger self, his younger self. Still so vibrant and optimistic, he doesn’t know how to be that anymore, he gave it up a long time ago because he had to. I almost wonder if they would be somewhat afraid to face each other. Young Mikey, afraid of the kind of person he could grow to be without his brothers, Michelangelo afraid to face what could have been, if maybe he’d just held onto hope a little longer.

Not even to mention seeing his father alive again, maybe wondering “is he proud of me? Is he proud of the ninja I became, even at such a terrible cost?” But he can never ask the question, he just can’t.

Seeing April and Casey again. Knowing that April will get to grow into her old age not as a hardened soldier but happy and free, as she always should have been, Casey by her side and he actually gets to grow old instead of dying young.

Everything is as it should have been, the life he wished he had gotten to be a part of, and now he’s here but… he’s different, because nothing went right for him. So how does he learn to live again? I wanna know.

[three-two-six]

120 SINF facts I collected while rereading the series

Behold, my magnum opus.

Josh likes Shrek

Dee has The X-Files theme song as his ringtone

Scatty doesn’t blink. Ever.

Dee gave Mary Shelley the idea for Frankenstein

Scatty can’t enter your room if you don’t invite her in

Scatty is a vegetarian

Perry needed to teach Nicholas English at some point because he forgot it

Ghosts love bathrooms

Josh is 5 cm taller than Sophie

Dee has always been fascinated by the idea of flying

Josh hates snakes, spiders, rats, and scorpions

Scatty hates rain, and it is one of the reasons she left Ireland

Scatty is allergic to feathers and fur

Scatty easily burns in the sun

According to the Codex, apples are poisonous and frogs can turn into princes, both of which Zephaniah confirms are incorrect claims

Zephaniah tried to marry off Scatty to king Nabukodonosor when she was 15

Dee prefers living in bigger cities

Scatty gets sick from using leygates

Josh is incredibly susceptible to seasickness

Nicholas helped create the French sign language

Machiavelli desecrated Nicholas’ and Perenelle’s graves more than three centuries ago and broke their gravestone. The Flamels saw everything

Zephaniah is an Elvis Presley fan

Sophie thinks European chocolate is too bitter

Scatty hates flying

Scatty speaks 6-7 HUNDRED languages

Machiavelli is the type of guy to punch a hole in the wall when he’s angry

Francis speaks ALL languages. ALL of them.

Scatty bites her nails when she’s nervous

Vampyres don’t sweat (this includes Scatty and Aoife)

Francis is terrible at tending to plants

Nicholas pulled off the first blood transfusion in history

Joan is also a vegetarian

Dee has a habit of cutting the phone call before the other person just so that his word can be last. Machiavelli is the most prominent victim of this

Dee doesn’t like flying

The Sphynx is afraid of dark

The pyramids in Egypt were built for the Danu Talis survivors

Josh collects fossilized feces

Joan loves cooking and grows spices on her rooftop

Machiavelli has manicured nails

Dagon often has nightmares about the fall of Danu Talis

Machiavelli knows how to program in five different programming languages

Machiavelli's one of the few world experts on quantum physics

Aerop-Enap tends to sleep off large chunks of human history

Sophie can run really fast

Machiavelli is a vegetarian

Machiavelli has stamina problems

Gilgamesh doesn't have an aura

Perry's aura doesn't have a smell

William cooks when he's nervous

Bastet can tolerate iron better than most Elders

Both Josh and Mars carry swords in their left hand

Machiavelli was the brain behind Napoleon

Francis is the only known person in the SINF universe that was born with the ability to see where leygates are

Scatty was told that she'd die in an exotic place

Billy speaks French

The Flamels worked on the first atomic bomb ever

Gilgamesh once requested to have the world’s first atomic bomb be detonated right above him. The Flamels placed him in a mental institution for 10 years because of it

Sophie doesn't like onions

Francis taught Aoife how to see leygates

Machiavelli thinks about his death unusually often

Niten is the only humani who defeated Scatty in a one-on-one fight

Virginia has a very expensive taste

Virginia lives in a tent

Canonically the reason Machiavelli and Dee keep underestimating Perenelle is that they're misogynists (at least according to Virginia Dare)

Niten collects classic cars

Dee is terrible at tending to plants

Aoife once crashed a vimana and blamed it on Scatty

Odin sacrificed his eye to an Archon in exchange for eldritch knowledge

Abraham has an extra finger on each hand

Krakens are actually only about an inch large. Apparently, sailors overestimated their size a little…

The Morrigan’s tears turn into small feathers

Dee is very susceptible to seasicknes

Nereus is responsible for the Bermuda Triangle dissappearances

Scatty and Aoife were the first of the Next Generation

The Codex has twenty-one pages

Hel imprisoned Joan in her shadowrealm once

Virginia and her flute are bonded

Billy has cold hands

Virginia doesn’t speak Latin, and neither does Billy

Mars has a coal black tongue

Sophie is afraid of spiders

Aten is a history nerd

Isis is older than Osiris

Virginia Dare is a Vegetarian

Virginia didn’t know how to speak until she was ten or eleven

Billy read Machiavelli’s The Prince

Josh looks up to Billy as a legend

Black Hawk dislikes spicy food

It’s possible to summon Elders by praying to them

Virginia was besties with Albert Einstein and her tales about shadowrealms inspired his theory of relativity

Prometheus is the self-proclaimed finest vimana flier in Danu Talis

Will abhors weapons and has never fired a gun in his life

The first humani created by Prometheus all had his facial features

Perenelle hates coffee

Tsagaglalal has no fingerprints

Josh suffers from claustrophobia

Perenelle once knocked out one of Quetzalcoatl’s back molars

Prometheus hates parrots

Prometheus read Niten’s book

Mars disagrees with just about everything in Niten’s book

There are rumors that Leonardo da Vinci was immortal

Hel loves raw pork

The only place in the world Dee hasn’t been to is Denmark

Aoife considers Khutulun, a prominent immortal warrior and niece of Kublai Khan as the “daughter she always wanted”. She is currently breeding horses in Kentucky

Isis and Osiris paint their nails black

Quetzalcoatl is a loner

Quetzalcoatl is responsible for The great Northeast blackout

Billy and Black Hawk are Star Trek fans

Machiavelli is a Star Wars fan

Machiavelli actually liked Napoleon

Tor Ri in which lives Abraham has exactly 248 steps

Marethyu doesn’t breathe or have a heartbeat

Isis and Osiris have dark purple tongues

One of the reasons Elders don’t like congregating in the same place is the risk that their auras could cause a natural disaster

Zephaniah is allergic to cats

Cookie-dough ice cream gives Virginia a rash

Dee’s favorite ice cream flavor is cookie-dough

Billy loves eating crab legs

Scathach and Aoife were trained by Tsagaglalal

Prometheus doesn’t have a pulse

[diabolik-art-blog]

Christmas Night

Chapter 01: [ Kino x Yui ]

Admin's note: The first chapter of 13 Christmas one-shots. I wanted to start with Shu because he is always my favorite but my boy Kino needs more attention. I'm still in shadowban so sorry I can't replay your comments. Don't forget to support my One Shots in AO3.

Christmas night is one of the most beautiful nights of the year. The city of Tokyo is very beautiful and spectacular at this time of the year. In the center of the city there is a big tree that is beautifully decorated and a golden star shines on top of it. There is a box next to the tree for people to give their gifts to the orphans.

It is the night before Christmas and tomorrow the beautiful Christmas carol will resound in the city. People are doing their last Christmas shopping. Couples hold each other's hands and walk in the city. Smiles are seen on their faces and they all look happy.

Everyone looks happy. Except for the girl who looks at the happy people from behind the window and has a bitter smile on her face. She wishes to experience this feeling of happiness with a real family just for a few moments.

While looking at happy couples and people from behind the window, Yui remembers her happy memories with her father on Christmas nights. Her father, who tried to kill her a few months ago. Remembering these bitter memories brought tears to her eyes.

Yui wiped her tears with her sleeve and got up to go to Kino's room. As she walked slowly down the corridor, she wished that Kino would not ignore her this time. Yui reached the back door of Kino's room and knocked as her body trembled with fear.

*knock knock*

Yui: Kino-kun... can we talk?

No sound could be heard from behind the door. Ever since Yui and Kino came to this city, Kino has never spoken to her even once. Kino no longer pays attention to her like before. He locks himself in his room for hours and rarely comes out.

Yui mustered up all her courage and boldly opened the door to the room. She saw Kino lying on his bed playing with his smartphone as usual.

Yui: Kino-kun... I just wanted to know how are you? can we talk together?

Kino does not answer her again. Yui doesn't know the reason for Kino's neglect, but after what happened, she blames herself for everything and can feel that Kino is angry with her because of the recent events, even if he doesn't say it.

Tears gathered in Yui's eyes. Yui walked out of the room with trembling steps and closed the door. After the door was fully closed, Yui quickly ran to her room and threw herself on the bed, buried her head in the pillow and started crying. She could feel her heart breaking into pieces. It seems that Kino hated her and this means the end of the world for her.

After Kino betrayed the ghouls, the ghouls got angry with him and attacked him. Kino didn't want them to hurt Yui, so he ran away with Yui and they came to Tokyo. But everything changed. Every day, Kino ignored Yui and did not pay attention to her at all.

After their savings ran out, Yui found a small job to make ends meet. She blamed herself for this and tried her best to make Kino happy.

Hours passed and it was midnight. Guessing that Kino was sleeping now, Yui found the courage to go out. She quickly changed her clothes and left the house. While walking in the streets, she looked at her money that she had saved for several months. She wants to make Kino happy with a big Christmas party so she can see his smile again, but before that she has to do some shopping.

Yui walked the streets for hours to buy all the things she needed. She was walking back home when she felt that someone was following her. At first, she thought that it was just her imagination, but no, it was not imagination, it was reality. Someone was following her and upon realizing this, Yui started running.

Yui didn't know what to do, she just ran with all her breath. Out of fear, she lost her way and just ran through the streets and alleys until she reached a dead end.

???: Little lady, why are you running away? I haven't done anything with you yet.

Yui: Please don't come near me. Please stay away from me.

The unknown man who had been following Yui the entire time gave a wicked grin and approached her. He tilted his head towards Yui, staring into her innocent pink eyes.

???: Do not worry. If you don't resist, I promise you it won't hurt at all.

He was staring at Yui's innocent face and white skin and put his hand on her cheek and with that Yui shivered and tried to defend herself.

???: You are very thin and skinny. What a pity. But the skin is white and soft. And you are very very beautiful. I'm sure your taste is very sweet hahaha.....

Yui pushed the unknown man with all her strength and tried to run away from him, but the man was much bigger than her and quickly grabbed Yui's neck and squeezed with all his strength, trying to scare her.

???: Little girl, if you resist any longer, I swear that your beautiful and lovely face will be filled with blood and I can no longer say that your face is beautiful.

There were tears in Yui's eyes. She could hardly breathe. The man slowly let go of her neck and imprisoned Yui between the wall and his body. He unbuttoned Yui slowly and ran his tongue over her skin. Yui was crying non-stop and her moans were spread in the alley.

The man was enjoying these moments and lust until he felt the shadow over him. When he turned back, he saw a boy with wine-red eyes and raven-black hair staring at him with dead eyes. Seeing him, Yui looked at him with a pleading look.

Yui: Kino-kun...

Kino: You stupid man.... what the hell are you doing?

Before the man could say anything, Kino punched him hard in the face, causing his teeth to break and his face to be covered in blood. Seeing Kino's extraordinary physical strength, the man panicked and ran away without resisting.

Kino was staring at Yui's confused look. Yui tried to get up on her shaky legs and walk towards Kino.

Yui: Kino-kun... I...

*slap*

Yui's speech was stopped by a hard slap on her face. Yui's eyes were wide and her cheeks were red. Kino's slap was so hard that Yui's cheek was red. Tears flowed from Yui's eyes and Yui touched her cheek.

Kino: Silly girl.... Why did you leave the house without my permission? Don't you know how big and dangerous Tokyo is?

This was the first time Kino had spoken to Yui again in a while. Yui was shocked but happy. She was happy that Kino was talking to her again. While looking at Kino with tears in her eyes, she smiled softly, which shocked Kino.

Yui walked over to Kino and hugged him. She buried her head in Kino's chest and started crying.

Yui: *Sob*.... Kino-kun..... I'm sorry.... I'm sorry that your life was ruined because of me.... I'm sorry that you left your homeland because of me..... and I'm sorry that I made you hate me...

Surprised to hear Yui's strange words, Kino started to laugh. Yui looked at him in surprise. He hadn't laughed in a long time. Kino hugged Yui tightly. He held Yui's face with both hands and caressed her red cheek and kissed her gently.

Kino: My stupid prince..... you thought I hated you? No, you were wrong. I hated myself.

Yui: What?

Kino: I hated myself for bringing you to another city, but I didn't even have a good job with a decent income. You had to work for me and I hated myself for not being able to do anything for you.

Kino kissed Yui's red cheek again.

Kino: You are always my princess. I will never hate you. You are the only person I love more than my life.

Hearing Kino's words, Yui smiled softly and sank into his arms. They stayed in each other's warm arms for a while and drowned in each other's love.

Kino helped Yui pack her things. He took her hand and they went home together.

Yui: Kino-kun... This is our first Christmas together. Let's celebrate this Christmas together and start a new life.

Kino: My life is always with you, Yui. You are never going to leave me. I will stay by your side until the end.

Kino placed his lips on Yui's and encouraged her into a warm kiss. Their tongues intertwined and this kiss warmed their hearts on a cold Christmas night. It was a new beginning for them. Starting a new life together.

[jasontoddiefor]

Not to be sexist or make suffering a contest but I am thinking about how the all the other wives of the great sect leaders are:

-attic wife’d

-married to Jin Guangshan

-married to Wen Ruohan

-dead from circumstances unknown

And I can’t help but like side eye Madam Yu being absolutely terrible to everyone at Lotus Pier like why are you so angry? Why are you taking your anger out on children? You literally get to do whatever you want and at most your husband will raise his voice like an octave higher would it kill you to not be mean to everyone including your own children 24/7

I mean, I get where you're coming from but "why are you angry you're not even abused by your husband" is a really, really low bar.

I don't like Madam Yu.

She's mean and lashes out at people who aren't to blame for her situation, namely her children, and every time she makes an entrance in any scene and in any adaption - even CQL who tried to give her some last emotional scene with JFM - she's a horrible person to everyone involved.

But also, it's understandable, isn't it? She's the only woman who has both a name and a title and, while she does die, doesn't die for man-pain specifically. MDZS has very few female characters who are even allowed a name, never mind a voice. Madam Yu is stuck in a marriage where she isn't wanted in a patriarchal society that, at heart, doesn't want her either. What power does Madam Yu really have? She can't divorce the husband she married for power, her children never measure up to impossible standards or even some regular ones in JYL's case and Madam Yu seems entirely unsuited to the role of a petite, obedient, beautiful sect leader's wife.

I do genuinely think that if Madam Yu had been born a man, he'd have been much less angry.

I don't think it is right of her to lash out the way she does - look at all those free mommy issues for the yunmeng siblings - but I don't think it's entirely incomprehensible why she is lashing out the way she is. In that regard, JFM's "tolerance" isn't helping either. He's letting her continue as she wants, which is tbh really only an illusion of freedom because again, he is her husband. It would've been perfectly within his right to restrict her. But he doesn't, which is probably meant as kindness, but really only serves as a reminder in her POV, I think.

In a way, I think Madam Yu, narratively, also serves the purpose of pointing these circumstances out. Who lives and does so happily? Mianmian, who gets out of the cultivation world. All the other women? They die. So if you wanna keep playing the game, you can either shut your mouth and stay quiet in your role, or you hold onto whatever power you have with utter bitterness.

Like I said, I don't like Madam Yu, but it isn't as though she doesn't have reason for her anger.