#the amount of bs I had to read

[tategaminu]

It's been almost 6 years since Tokyo Ghoul :re ended and I'm still not over about how the fandom treated Touka like seriously she couldn't have a single scene without people jumping at her throat. It was sickening to see

I'm so sorry Touka you were my breathing living angel and you deserve better ily

[httpsserene]

hey can I request something that’s angsty to fluff and then smut for Oscar where reader gets a ton of hate for dating Oscar so she kind of ghosts him for a bit and they figure things out

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰/𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar really just wants to hear you laugh again. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. angst. fluff. happy ending. reader is exhausted physically and mentally. reader's internal monologue is not not nice. bad eating habits. bad sleeping habit. self-deprecation. don't worry she's back on her bs at the end. reader neglects herself (?) and her relationship. implied self-sabotage. people are mean. don't worry oscar is meaner. oscar piastri is a good boyfriend. emotional hurt/comfort. tenderness. intimacy. baths and pampering. crying (non-sexy). implied sex. implied bath sex. logan and lando as plot devices. no beta we die like my will to live during finals. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5.1k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot w/ blurbs. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: best i ever had • drake

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: sorry it took me so long, i've changed this fic like multiple times :/ hope it fulfills you request properly :))) this is not my favorite thing in the world, i feel like if i went on a smaller scale i would've enjoyed this more but what can you do. this is also not very black reader coded? idk but feel like it's lacking there. i also apologize for my inability to write an oscar fic without including lando, he's such a willing plot device though even if he's a little ooc. i also couldn't find the mental space to write smut but there's smth for you at the end. dedicated to us women in stem! i hope you have fun reading this because i didn't have fun writing it :)

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oscar is worried. you haven’t responded to his texts for a week, he hasn’t seen your face for two weeks, and he hasn’t heard your voice for three weeks. four weeks ago, you told him you wouldn’t be able to fly out to see him at the austin grand prix, like you promised. you sounded exhausted and incredibly guilty when you explained that your course load this semester is extreme, and finals are rapidly approaching. oscar understood; he won’t ask you to sacrifice your education for one of his races, there will be plenty you can come to in the future. what he doesn’t understand is how you’re still functioning. it’s your senior year of university at an american ivy league school, you're pursuing an engineering degree, and you’re also working nearly five days a week as a barista. oscar thinks the last time he’s seen you relaxed is before your fall semester started, you spent your entire summer break with him, making appearances at the only three races you’ve been to this season (silverstone, hungary, and spa). the last time he recalls seeing your smile and hearing your laugh is in august—it’s the end of october now. 

you’ve been ghosting him. oscar wants to believe that it’s unintentional, that it’s just a side effect of the amount of work and pressure on your shoulders—but he can’t accept that. if you were unintentionally missing his calls, facetimes, and texts, you’d spam respond to all of them with a voice message or paragraphs of texts before you went to bed or class. you would send him daily or weekly recap videos of how life is treating you, like you used to do. you would send him stupid videos of you messing around on your shifts during a pause of customers. you would send him thirty reels a day on instagram of brain dead shenanigans with little captions of how you reacted, or if you thought it would make him smile. you would send him fit checks every morning before you went to class, even though your outfit consists of a hoodie and sweatpants. you would send him tiktok edits of himself and tell him that he needs to stop being ‘so hot’ because you almost barked in the middle of class. you would ask him how he’s doing, you would respond to his texts the minute you could even if it's hours late, you would leave him voicemails if he doesn’t pick up, you would make an attempt to communicate. 

except, you haven’t. so, he knows that you ignoring him is intentional, and that your lifestyle right now makes it easier for you to disguise your avoidance of him as accidental. 

you didn’t say ‘i love you’ back. 

“mate, what are you frowning for?” oscar jumps, eyes flying up from the phone screen and meeting lando’s. the brit is staring at him in confusion, the two of them are still in their race suits, tied around their waists. the sprint race ended an hour ago, and they’ve just finished celebrating oscar’s win.

“you’ve won a race, oscar—what could possibly make you sad after that?” lando says teasingly. but, the smile on his face is quick to fade as he must see oscar’s dejected mood.

the australian debates his next move for a moment, before deciding that telling lando isn’t a bad idea; they’ve been getting closer—they’re friends, oscar would say. he sighs, and hands his phone to lando, maybe he’ll tell oscar he’s worrying over nothing.

“oh,” lando says, eyes widening, “i’m sorry, mate.”

oscar brushes off lando’s words, and buries his face in his hands, “she’s pulling away from me. that was five days ago, and she hasn’t answered any of my calls. she’s only responded to my texts since then with one word answers or very dryly. she’s ghosting me.”

oscar feels lando fumbling for words, not needing to look at him to know that the older man has no idea how to go about reassuring oscar.

“look, mate, if it were me i’d go see her anyways.”

oscar huffs, “she literally said she doesn’t have time.”

“oscar,” lando stares at him in disbelief, “she hasn’t seen you in two months. i guarantee she’s probably dying to see you again, fuck whatever time she doesn’t have. she also can’t ghost you, if you see her face to face. you should go and try to fix whatever’s wrong, before you let her slip away.”

“maybe…maybe she’s just burnt out,” oscar suggests shakily, “i’ll go see her after the triple header–i’m probably just overreacting about this. she’ll be back to her usual self in time.”

oscar is enraged. he’s pissed off at his fans for attacking you in a sick twist of ‘defending him,’ ‘protecting him’ and the supposed ‘ownership’ they think they have over him. he’s pissed off at you deciding to ghost him instead of confiding in him about the hate you receive. he’s pissed off that his flight to you has been delayed for four hours. he’s pissed off at his race in brazil, if you can even call what happened a race. he’s pissed off at the fact that you can’t make time to see him before vegas. he’s pissed off that you lied to him about picking up extra shifts at the cafe.

he stalked through your instagram the minute after he was allowed to escape debrief, hunting down your roomates accounts from where you’ve tagged them in an older post. he innocently made a group message to the two girls, figuring it would be kind and proper to inform them of his impending arrival to surprise you. and the two girls you shared an apartment with responded eagerly to his message telling him that you’ve been extremely stressed and almost depressed this semester, and that hopefully his appearance will break through to you in a way they are unable to. oscar asked them if they knew your work schedule for the week, since you never told him when you're working–and learned that you lied. you didn’t accept any extra shifts, matter of fact, you got all of your shifts covered for the next two weeks. apparently, all you have been doing is going to class, working, studying furiously, and crying. when he asks if there’s any reason besides the stress from work and school that has you crying, the girls decline to speak for you, and strongly suggest that he asks you himself when he arrives. 

oscar’s no longer pissed at you for lying to him or for ghosting him–he’s hurt, but, he already understands your motive. you don’t want to worry him, so you bottle it up and distance yourself to not make him aware of how you're struggling. he won’t let you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone anymore, he’s going to see you and he’s going to take care of you, and then he’ll sort out the ignorant people on the internet.

when he’s at your apartment, you’ll be coming home from your last shift before your time off. and then, once he has you in his arms, he can make everything right again.

your hands are shaking; a result from the mix of stress and exhaustion that has been plaguing you for a few weeks. it takes you four and a half attempts to unlock the front door to your apartment—this is an improvement, yesterday it took you six times. a trembling sigh of relief exits your lungs as you shut the front door, triple checking that you lock the door properly. you remove all of your outerwear and slip out of your shoes, half-heartedly making an attempt to neatly place them in the organizer you have by the door. (you fail to register how there’s only two pairs of shoes stored away; yours and a pair of shoes that look too big to be one of the girls you live with—the usual sneakers the girls wear are nowhere to be seen.) you grunt as you tenderly put on your backpack and slowly make your way into the kitchen, off-handedly murmuring a “hi,” in the direction of the living room since you can hear the tv playing, but you don’t even spare a glance to see which roommate it is—you can’t stomach anymore human interaction today.

your walk is more of a waddle; your legs and feet are sore from working nine-hour shifts five days in a row, and also from going to class four out of those five days. you place your backpack on the small island, and continue to gently meander towards the fridge. your stomach aches at the thought of food—which is unfortunate, considering you’ve only had one meal today. regardless, you will shove a sandwich down your throat, you need the energy if you’re going to study for three hours before you go to bed. 

you pause before you open the fridge, a note is stuck on the door with a magnet. your roommates are gone; the two girls have spontaneously decided to go spend the weekend with their boyfriends—you’re not going to complain, you have the apartment to yourself. a brief wave of loneliness washes over you, you were kind of looking forward to venting about the week you had to the girls in the morning, and also, couldn’t they have texted you this earlier today? who leaves old-fashioned notes on the fridge anymore? you pull out your phone to send a text in your group chat wishing them a nice weekend, and see that they did, in fact, text you that they would be gone—three days ago. and, you never responded, because you never saw it. you shrug, and send the text anyways, you’ve been incredibly busy and you’re bound to miss a few texts (especially the eighteen texts from oscar that remain unopened). 

you're just going through a little bit of a slump, and you’ve had a bad day. you accidentally messed up three orders today (out of the hundred you fulfilled, so three isn’t really terrible), your running off of four hours of sleep (you’re more energized when you sleep less, anyways), and a customer accidentally bumped into you as you were walking to bring coffee to a table, causing the hot liquid to spill and burn a little spot on the back of your hand by your thumb. well, you know it wasn’t purely accidental, as the girl giggled to the group of friends she was with after she “bumped” into you. based on the way she was wearing a mclaren hoodie, you can make several guesses as to why she did it—you’re kind of shocked that she noticed you even though you wear a mask at work (you have for about a month, too many fans have noticed who you are), her hate for a relationship that’s not hers should be studied for science. 

incidents like these have made your coworkers start to…dislike you. the decrease in tips when you’re assigned to the register causes you to be forced to be hidden behind coffee machines the entire shift, only making drinks the entire nine hours you’re there. it’s better for you though, at least you can have a physical barrier blocking the prying eyes you feel are judging you the entire time. if anything, the recent atmosphere at work made you want to put in your two weeks—but, you have bills to pay. you’re just glad you managed to find a way to get two weeks off so you can focus on school and prepare for your exams—you can’t afford to fail, it’ll cost your scholarship and then you’ll need more than the job you have right now to finish school.

the buzzing of your phone pulls you back to the present—oscar’s calling. you squeeze your eyes shut for a few seconds, before you blink and silence the ringer. if you speak to him, you won’t be able to hide your troubles from him any longer; he reads you as easily as a kid’s picture book. he definitely doesn’t need to deal with your problems after whatever the hell happened in brazil. the noise of your phone startled you into a new thought, however. if the girls aren’t in the apartment, why the fuck is the tv on? who did you greet when you walked past the main room without a glance?

“i was calling to tell you that i’ve got takeout from the asian restaurant you like, if you’re looking for something to eat,” oscar says gently.

it’s a testament to how extremely exhausted you are: you don’t scream, you don’t fight, you don’t run—you just flinch slightly, and turn around slowly to face your boyfriend…the man you’ve been avoiding for nearly a month. at the sight of him (his fluffy hair, his soft sweater, the confused and concerned glint in his eyes) your lip starts quivering, and your eyes start watering. oscar’s gaze softens into something sweet yet empathic, and he says, “i know it’s been a while since we’ve last talked, but i didn’t think you’d cry at the sight of me.”

you burst into tears with a sob, and in a second oscar’s got you wrapped up in his arms, one hand soothingly massaging your back, while the other cradles your head on his shoulder. your borderline hyperventilating, your tears have started to soak his sweater, and you’re sniffling every two seconds to avoid getting snot on him too. oscar doesn’t try to quiet your tears, he doesn’t ask about what’s making you cry, he doesn’t even try to tell you that everything will be fine—he just holds you as you cry it out and presses kisses into your hair. eventually, the flow of tears dries and you focus on pulling in shaky breaths of air to calm down. oscar switches to holding you to his chest with one arm while he uses the free one to reach across the counter and grab a tissue. wordlessly, he wipes the wetness off your cheeks and under-eyes, he even uses another tissue to wipe your nose, clearing away the snot that managed to escape. you almost start crying again at the tender treatment and the matching look in his eyes, but you muster enough strength to keep the happy tears from falling over the waterline. 

oscar nods once, deeming his cleanup complete, and clears his throat, “i’m going to heat up the food. then, we’ll eat and you’ll tell me what’s wrong and if that has anything to do with why you’re ignoring me.”

there’s no attempt from you to keep the façade up any longer, all you do is nod and step to the side so he can grab the food from the fridge.

oscar has already cleared his plate and you’re still picking through half of yours. the two of you are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, teen wolf is playing on a low volume, and your eyes are tunneled on the screen even though oscar can see that you’re not paying attention at all. one of the characters is screaming about having to get his arm cut off (stiles, probably) and suddenly you start talking to oscar.

“it’s been a shit semester. if i wasn’t graduating in spring, i honestly think i would’ve dropped out or taken a gap-year. and, i knew what i signed up for as an engineering major, and i knew that working was only going to add more on my plate—but, it’s not like i can quit my job, i have bills to pay. so, juggling school and work is difficult, and i was managing fine. but, i guess i made the mistake of scrolling through twitter—which is truly my fault i think—and everyone on the internet was calling me a ‘terrible girlfriend’,” oscar watches you scoff out a choked laugh, “and, i obviously didn’t believe i was. in the beginning, at least. i mean, it’s like they expected me to be at every race by your side, like i’m not working my way through a hellscape of a degree. i watched every practice session, qualifying, and race—they’re literally the only hours i don’t spend studying or working. i brag about you to everybody who would listen, i missed hours of sleep just to speak to you on the phone for five minutes, i work as hard as i can so i can finish this degree early so i can be with you as early as possible, and they say that you deserve a better girlfriend.”

you pause and rub at your eyes furiously, mouth opening and closing as you take time to find the words to continue. oscar quiets the flare of anger at your distress, and stays silent, not wanting to interrupt your speech, this is the most you’ve said to him in a month.

“the thing is: i-i i let their words get to me. i think it’s because i was being kicked while i was down—or whatever the phrase is. i was already mentally exhausted, and i already believe that i’m not doing my best this year, i’m disappointing everybody who knows me, i’m a shit student—and just seeing everybody agree, even though they’re just randoms on the internet, tore me down. i even deleted all of the apps off my phone,” your voice has shifted into something desperate, “so i couldn’t see what they were saying about me anymore, but it’s like once i saw it, it never left my mind. i feel like everybody is staring at me with condescending eyes, like they all think i’m terrible. and, logically, i know that’s probably not true. but, this semester has pushed me past the point of being able to rationalize properly. so as a result, i have become a ‘terrible girlfriend’ to you; like a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy.

“i avoid your calls, i leave you on delivered for days, i respond with one word, i lie to my friends and say i was up all night talking to you on the phone when i was really crying and studying at the same time, i hold back from bursting into tears in the middle of my shifts when one of your ‘fangirls’ spills their drink over me for the third time. and while doing all of this, i was hoping you’d do the hard part and just break up with me,” your voice rings out sharply and you refuse to look at your boyfriend, afraid to see the look on his face.

“because…” you whimper slightly, tongue flicking out to lick at your lips anxiously, “you do deserve a better girlfriend.”

oscar is lost for words at your conclusion; seeing you, one of the strongest women he knows break down, is a sight he never imagined. a sense of guilt builds within him, knowing that he’s added to the deprecating thoughts in your brain by postponing this intervention for weeks. you may think that he deserves someone better, but he hasn’t been the best to you either recently. if oscar was half the man you think he is, he would’ve never allowed you to avoid him in the first place. oscar stands up, collects your plate and his, and places them on the coffee table. he turns and drops to his knees in front of you, resting his hands on your thighs, and squeezes them gently to grab your attention. it takes a minute, but eventually you allow your eyes to fall to meet his, and oscar breaks further at the lack of light in your eyes.

“i think,” oscar starts quietly, “that you expect me to break up with you and leave—am i guessing correctly?”

you blink down at him and shrug, biting your lip to prevent it from quivering.

“i also think, that if i flew all this way to see you, and that if i listened to your heartbreaking recollection of how this semester and how the world has been incredibly unkind to you, and that if i sat here and still broke up you—it’s not me that deserves a better girlfriend; it’s you that deserves a better boyfriend.”

stunned, you stumble over your disagreement, but oscar steadfastly continues.

“you did the right thing by deleting your socials—and that would explain why all three hundred of the reels i’ve sent you have gone unseen,” he laughs lightly, “and even if their words took root, you prevented yourself from being able to see more of it every time you used your phone; so even if my pride is not needed, i am proud of you for doing that. i’m even more proud that you sat here and told me that you aren’t doing well, that you didn’t make an attempt to lie, and that i didn’t have to force you to tell me,” oscar says seriously, holding steady eye contact with you to make sure you're hearing him.

“i wish that you would have mentioned the hate you’re receiving as soon as it started, and that you would have told me your mental health was suffering too. you know i do everything in my power to avoid reading anything with my name in it unless it’s a credible article—so imagine my surprise, when i learned about what people were saying about you through a twitter thread logan, of all people texted me about,” you snort out a laugh at the feigned disdain in oscar’s voice when he mentions the american driver. 

“you know i have no issues embarrassing people on the internet for their incorrect claims—and i’d especially tear them to shreds for trying to drag you down. we’ve been together too long for you not to come to me about things like this, even if it’s something that mildly upsets you—i want to know, because then i can make it better, or i can at least try to. you haven’t complained to me about the grueling lifestyle once, as i worked my way up to f1; if anybody could be perfect, it would be you. so, let me try to be as perfect as you, and support you properly and thoroughly as you finish up this degree, baby.

“we’re soulmates, aren’t we?” it’s a question, but oscar states it like a fact, “and i know i can’t magically make the self-loathing disappear with one conversation, but i'll tell you that you’re the best girlfriend i’ve ever had countless times, until you believe me unquestionably.”

oscar watches your nose scrunch cutely as you sniffle, unable to stop the tears that leak from the corners of your eyes. sweetly, he catches them with his thumb before they fall. he stands up and tugs you to your feet, pulling you into a tight, warm hug. 

“i love you, kanga,” oscar coos as he kisses your forehead.

“i love you the most, roo,” you answer back, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“i’ve bought some lavender epsom salt and an embarrassing amount of bath bombs. will you let me take care of you tonight?” oscar asks quietly.

he sees the mix of awed-disbelief and confusion as you stare up at him, like you can’t imagine why he’d want to love you tenderly tonight, and that hurts him more—the words of his ‘fans’ online have done enough damage to cause you to doubt him. maybe he can convince you to come to vegas with him so he can keep you close, but first, he needs to focus on caring for you here and now.

oscar grabs his duffle bag and smiles as you hold his hand to lead him to your room and the attached bathroom (rent is ridiculously expensive, but at least you don’t have to share a bathroom with your roommates.) oscar sends you to grab pajamas while he starts filling the tub, epsom salt already poured in. he fiddles with the temperature for a while before it’s set to the boiling-your-skin-off hot you enjoy. by the time you join him in the bathroom, he’s added the salts and soap in the water and has placed the bath bombs out for you to choose one. oscar can’t help the small smile that rises to his face at the sight of the serious furrow of your brow as you pick out your favorite from the bunch. 

oscar hums as you hand him the jade-infused bath bomb, and asks, “can i wash your hair too? or will it mess up your schedule?”

“i actually really need to wash it,” you murmur with a humorless chuckle, “i’ve been so busy that i haven’t been taking care of my hair properly.”

oscar blinks and continues non-judgmentally, “i’ll give you an extra scalp massage to make up for that—you can start getting undressed now, the water’s nearly ready.”

he turns around awkwardly, he’s seen you naked before but he feels like it would be slightly perverse to watch you while you’re clearly in a more sensitive state tonight. he fumbles with the faucet for a few seconds before turning it off, and drops the bath bomb into the water so it can start dispersing. oscar faces you again carefully making sure he avoids staring at your body and locks eyes with you, he beckons you forward with an outstretched hand and holds your hand as you submerge yourself in the water. once you’re settled comfortably, oscar grabs your hair products (he holds up any bottle he thinks you may not want to use tonight, and you give him a thumbs up or down to decide), and then kneels at your side.

he starts to roll up the sleeves of the hoodie but your hand halts his motions, the water splashing loudly at the quickness of your movement, “you’re not getting in with me?”

“uh,” oscar stutters, “i-i wasn’t planning on it. i just wanted to give you a nice bath.”

oscar pinkens as you stare at him wordlessly and when your unimpressed gaze shifts to a slight glare, he finds himself shedding his clothes and sinking in behind you at an impressive speed. 

his heart began to race as the two of you shifted into as comfortable of a position you could achieve in a too-small tub, but calmed at your pleased hum as you settled between his legs with your back resting on his chest. this may be the most romantic experience oscar has ever indulged in. sure, it’s not a candlelit dinner at an obnoxiously expensive restaurant but, it’s him detangling your hair, it’s him massaging shampoo into your crown, it’s him scratching softly along your scalp as the deep conditioner sits, it’s you playing with the water innocently, it’s you whispering every detail of your life that he’s missed out on, it’s you gently directing him through braiding your hair, and it’s him pressing kisses to your shoulder when he finishes. there isn’t a single moment where the two of you become unsettled during lapses of silence; the intimacy of his actions is loud enough to fill the gaps. oscar can’t imagine ever being this comfortable with anybody besides you, he hates that he almost allowed you to pull completely away from him. moments like these, where you allow yourself to be thoughtlessly vulnerable with him, are exactly why he’s completely enamored with you.

your body has loosened against him, muscles syrupy and lax from the effects of a toe-curling scalp massage, and oscar gently guides you to sit upright while steadying most of your weight with a single hand splayed against your abdomen. the sound of the cap of your body wash clicking open startles you into the present, and you shift around to straddle his lap. it’s amusing; he inaudibly chuckles at the sight of you struggling to complete your change of position without sending water over the edge. you make a triumphant noise when you’ve managed to turn around to face him, and oscar’s hands cradle your hips when you rest on his lap. 

“can i–”

“shouldn’t you–”

oscar bursts into laughter and you into giggles, at the interruption of each other's sentences. it’s definitely not that funny, but oscar’s heart skips a beat at the sound of your laugh–he hasn’t heard that sweet noise in what feels like forever. he motions for you to speak, ever the gentleman, and eagerly awaits for our question with a smile still stretched across his lips.

“shouldn’t you fuck me before we wash up? so we don’t have to clean up twice?”

oscar chokes on his breath, his grip on you tightening in surprise, and he babbles, “what? no-i mean, yes, i mean—wait. i didn’t do all of this just to have sex with you, you know that right? i genuinely just wanted to pamper you–”

“oscar,” you cut him off, intentionally this time around, “after the semester i’ve had, and the less than kind words i’ve heard and thoughts i’ve had describing myself–i really do appreciate the bath, i feel reminded that you love me. however, i really think that having sex would help…solidify your devotion for me.”

oscar blinks up at you, he wasn’t quite expecting you to return to your normal sassy behavior as quickly as you did. but, he is thankful that you’ve opened up to him with no further hesitation–it’s actually incredibly attractive of you, how you’ve resumed complete comfortability in expressing exactly what you want to him. at least, that’s the excuse he’s telling himself to cope with being half-hard already.

“...at least let me take you to bed, then?”

“no,” you whine down at him, your hips sneakily twitching forward, oscar moans lightly at the light grind, “too far! saves time later if we don’t have to come back to shower.”

“you’re right,” oscar hums distractedly, moving his right hand off your waist to slip between your thighs and brush along your cunt, “i’ll fuck you here as long as you let me do all of the work.”

oscar’s blood heats at the sound of your whimpering moan and he takes his other hand off your waist to grab at your chin and he pulls you down for a kiss.

oscar groans when you pause before your lips touch his, and he feels the breath of your giggle ghost over his mouth, “mmm, i’ll never say no to that—and, didn’t i agree to let you take care of me tonight?” 

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz

© httpsserene2023

[musedblues]

AMORE ~ FATI (part 2)

a/n: oh my oh my, thank you everyone for such wonderful feedback! if there is one thing im gonna be for the rest of the year it's a hoe for geta. so i could be coxed into making this a longer series if yall want 👀

warnings: READ PART 1 before this. minimal historical research. fantastical bs. graphic descriptions of murder. sexual situations. you get the gist! MINORS DNI

taglist: @nosamiam1 @screaming-blue-bagel @prestinalove @nxrdamp @alba8688 @mademoiselledreyfus @theawesomekungfupanda @peepeepoopoololswag

part 2 of ?

///

The day you wed was rushed. In the span of a handful of hours there were flowers and musicians flooding the halls. There were endless rows of fabric for you to pick from to dress in. There were a dozen hands shaping your garments to your figure. There were hundreds of spectators lingering outside the empire, waiting for you to reveal yourself as empress. There was Geta.

He looked to you as he often did, with undivided attention. He looked to you in a room full of people and his stare did not break or faulter. Geta's brown eyed gaze was all you could fixate on as the day unraveled around you, as ceremonies were followed through and as you were hurried along into becoming royalty. All you saw was Geta. All you saw was how he kept those brilliant dark eyes ever locked on yours. 

It would have overwhelmed you to otherwise look away, to think too vastly about the changes your life was catapulting through in such a short amount of time. That's why, when the ceremony had ended and the gathering to celebrate included your three dear friends, you did not know exactly how to answer their pleas for explanation. 

They were happy for you, they were shocked. You were giddy all the while, filling them in as you could, but unable to process the meaning and importance of your new status into words. Instead, you all laughed and spun about the room as musicians played. Julia was thrilled, beaming as the party raged on. She flitted from guest to guest, speaking highly of you loudly enough for you to hear every time.

And then there was Geta, with that illuminating stare ever fixated on you. As your party failed to cease and as the once set sun began to rise into a new day, Geta pulled you away from the gathering. Right in the middle of a conversation you were holding with the priest, Geta yanked you from the room and toward the staircase. He'd barely been able to pull you along toward his room without keeping his hands out from under your dress.

Geta had never displayed much patience when it came to bedding you, that morning being no exception. It seemed his door had barely shut before Geta had ripped your garments away and began to have his way with you. Not that you were complaining. You knew you were signing up for much more, marrying Geta. But you knew also, you were signing up for endless nights and days and weeks in his bed. On his floor. Against that beloved chaise lounge.

And that's where you stayed for a few turns of the sun, In that room, with Geta. He turned away every knock at the door with a booming demand they go away. He was quick to turn his undivided attention back to you, tracing his fingers across your torso, digging his teeth into your skin. He didn't let up. You never asked him to. But when the knocking became more and more persistent, you couldn't help but wonder when your never-ending  tryst may have to be halted.

"Shouldn't you be off working?" You wondered, raking back Geta's light toned locks. He leaned near the window, admiring a new sunrise with you. "Shouldn't I? Aren't I supposed to be adopting some kind of responsibility now?"

"I suppose." Geta seemed to understand. But a sly grin turned up the corners of his mouth as he turned his gaze from the sunrise to you. "But right now, you're only responsibility is to me. I command it." With a brow quirked and a gentle hand on your shoulder, Geta guided your descend till your knees met the floor in a bow before him. You knew exactly what he demanded, and you were glad to be of service.

///

When your time captive in Geta's room did eventually end, he proceeded to shower you with treasures. You were awarded cases full of paints and an entire room in the empire all to yourself- and a million canvas at your disposal. 

"Shouldn't I have more to do?" You worried to him, one evening. Wasn't the whole point of his mother's begging you to wed so you'd have some kind of influence in the royal goings on? Or was your shift in status all that you needed to represent for now?

"Would you care to do more?" Geta wondered, with a pout of a lip. "I promised you value and respect. I should like you to gain it however you please. But I should also like nothing more than for you to be free of responsibility. It adds up to madness. I'd like to keep you carefree." Geta reasoned with a smile, as his hands traced the curve of your chest. He'd been all to enthralled by your new title, by your belonging with him, to him. He'd be ever so captivated as you stayed as relentless as himself, eager as ever to find yourself between his knees. It was hard to want anything else, to long for more than his body tangling with yours. But the days did eventually move on.

Geta began to spend afternoons away from your side. But every day at his command, by others- you were presented with dozens of dresses in the finest colors you'd ever seen. You were fed the freshest foods. There was no time for you to wonder how to fill, Geta saw to your every waking moment of the day, with entertainment to squeal about and treasure to admire. Geta saw to your evenings in his room, under his touch. You saw to his pleasures all the while, ever more enthralled by how the well regarded and often harsh emperor melted in an instant under your lingering caresses.

///

Your days spun on in that same wonderous circle for a while, until Julia stepped in. One morning her highness surprised you by settling in for a meal with you; asking how you'd been adjusting to this new reality. You mentioned getting on nicely with the guards and the servants. You mentioned having made friends with the gardeners and feeling lucky to have be granted time to paint. You admitted to feeling a little too spoiled by Geta. 

"He wants you to be happy. We all do." Julia smiled, lifting a chalice to her lips as you smiled back her way. But she wasn't finished speaking, it seemed. "I'm glad you're fitting in as I suspected you would. But it's time for you to adjust to royal life beyond its pleasures. I'd like you to join me for a charity event this evening."

"I'll be glad to join you! I've only been wary of taking such steps since Geta insisted otherwise. He keeps saying I'll be better off with no responsibilities despite my offers to be of more service." 

Julia listened while you explained, rolling an eye at the mention of her son's guidance. With a swat of her hand, she leaned in closer to speak again. "We'll deal with him along the way, you and me. Come represent with me tonight, it'll be the perfect first job for you."

You trusted the royal's input and longed to make yourself more useful. It was easy to look forward to having a purpose for the evening, and it was a thrill to realize you'd be going out for the first time as a royal yourself. This was it. You were playing the game. You were apart of the bigger picture. 

///

The charity event was less excitable than you'd hoped, in some regards. There wasn't much to do or say there. Just hands to shake and bows to accept. But that was the rush of the evening. Just weeks ago people passed you on the street with no second glance. And you'd passed them by all the same. Funny how quickly life changed. The same class of people you were peers with weeks ago were humbling themselves before you now, beaming smiles your way, expressing pride to know someone from your side of things could dream of achieving such royal goals.

You rode home with Julia in a fog of glee, as she praised you for connecting to the public so effortlessly. For bringing a sense of humanity to the royals, for respecting her son, for the massive change you not only agreed to but seemed to enjoy. You let her fawn over you, relishing the compliments, yearning to feel as radiant as she believed you to be.

When you reached the purple carpeted entrance, and made your way up the stairs, you found Geta waiting up for you near his bed. Clothed only by his robe, he turned to find you dressed in finery, dressed like a royal. The man smiled, eyes raking up and down your figure. 

"You're a vision. You're home." Geta stated, reaching to hold your head in his hands. "It's so funny." He spoke low and gently, searching your eyes as he seemed to realize something while addressing you. "I can't imagine my plans before you were in them."

"How much have you had to drink?" You wondered with a small laugh, nervous by the softness in his lament. Geta was hardly cruel to you. But he was rarely as tender as he'd just become.

"I've just been going stir crazy waiting up for you. I hadn't even realized you'd left for the night until you didn't join me here at the usual hour. Did I hear something about charity with my mother?" Geta wondered, moving about the room now. Stretching his arms on his shuffle toward the edge of the massive carved bed.

"It was rather boring. Thought there be more action." You admitted. "I know you've wished me away from drafting battle plans and enforcing laws. But I do long to be a more active member of this family, Geta. Besides, your mother enforced our union for a reason, didn't she?"

Geta listened as you spoke, keeping a sly eye on your amble toward where he stalled against the bed. He reached a ringed hand out to rest at the curve of your hip, fingers pressing to pull you ever closer before him.

"She was right too, she saw you were made up of good will and the strength to stand by that. I'm glad she forced the idea. I'm more glad you chose this life all the while. It's admirable you wish to have more responsibilities. But that's a question to answer another day. All you need to worry about answering now, is this... tell me how can I make your evening free of all worries and wonders? How can I serve you, your highness?"

"I'd ask you to wake me from this dream, but I rather like the course it's taken." You grinned, reaching your arms around the royal's neck, struggling to hold back a burst of shocked laughter as Geta pulled you in and lifted you up all the while. In a flash he'd thrown you to his bed, moving like a jungle cat in your direction.

///

The next day you were scheduled to meet with a few senators and councilors alike. Your royal role was to be discussed, possible plans drafted. It had been a meeting you'd been looking forward to since your wedding day. 

Not even Caracalla's glare could cloud your excitement, as he passed you in the halls. his dull beady eyes rolled in your direction as he floated by in a stomp. The guard at his side, and the guard at yours, shared looks you couldn't read. And while you felt a certain fear in the wake of the more cruel emperor, a pity followed. How sad a life he lived, so shrouded in hate and rage. 

As you entered the meeting room, welcomed by a set of men smiling at your appearance, the reality of your situation seemed to settle deeper into the pit of your stomach. You recalled Caracalla's very recent glare your way. Geta's imploring you to take as little responsibility on as possible. Julia's plea for you to take on as much as you could bare. The decision was yours to make now, and you realized if you didn't achieve the perfect balance of wishes and demands, this entire empire may implode at your slightest misstep. 

Over the course of a couple of hours, you and the group of leaders discussed stances for you to take heart to. Causes to stand for and against. Talk of addressing the people of the empire and hosting parties and appearing at events took up a large portion of your time. Until finally you worked up a project to occupy your time and a planned meeting for a few days from now.

You were left feeling satisfied by the efforts the team had put into giving you purpose in your roll within this empire. But you wondered still what more you should be achieving?  

The senators left out of the back of the meeting room, while your guard lingered near the half opened main entrance. As you collected a couple of scrolls and began to head out, a muffled voice could be heard around the corner of the crack in the door. with a few steps closer and one shrug to hide better out of sight, you recognized one voice as your husbands. And the other as his brothers. You crept ever closer toward the crack in the ajar entrance to spy as the siblings squared off in the hall, four soldiers squared off between them and their sharp words.

"It's like you to hide behind the voice of a woman," Caracalla scowled, "you've always used our mother's useless input when your feckless lack of leadership reared its head. But to adopt a whorrish commoner as your wife, to give her a semblance of purpose is a laughable new low for you, Geta."

"Speak of the empress as you did just now once more and I will slaughter your guards first before you, so you can see how powerless you truly are." Geta seethed, stepping to sneer at his brother with his hand on his sword. 

You pulled back from the door, mind buzzing. Geta really did care for you, it seemed, even if you were here to benefit the emperor in some twisted way, he'd spoken quite protectively of you in your absence from his side. And that bloomed a certainty in your chest that you needed to be more sure of your place here. You should stop worrying about what action to take, and simply take it.

You spent the evening piddling around with the ideas the senators had given you. And feeling gratitude that the man you'd wed defended your honor. You really could be glad to benefit the emperor as his wife, as his supporter. But you were newly determined to act as the angel on his right shoulder; ready to battle the devil Caracalla on his left.

When Geta joined you for bed that night, you admitted to hearing the spat the siblings shared. You went on to press more, to demand your willingness to be more of an asset to the empire, to Geta. 

"Don't make me tell you no." Geta broke your on going plea with a frustrated groan. You hadn't seen that coming.

"What... what do you mean?"

"I want you here, yes. But I do not want to need you. Don't you see that? Don't you see this entire push and pull is between my brother and me? I will not have you mixed up in the middle. I know my mother thinks you and I working together against Caracalla is what needs to happen but even if it is, now isn't the time. She cannot see that because all of this is only between my brother and me." Geta was speaking as certainly as ever. His words so sharp, his voice so commanding. Yet his eyes stayed soft on yours, his hands never clenching, but reaching out to hold either side of your face.

"I want you here." He repeated again, enunciating every syllable. "But I cannot need to depend on you. Or uncertainty will seep from my leadership alone, and into the villages and this fight between Caracalla and myself will be lost. Thats all this is. Between him, and me. So please don't ask again. Not for a while. I will tell you, empress, when your time will come. Because it will. But not yet."

"I see." You mustered, not quite hurt, not quite sure of yourself, not quite without understanding. Simply shocked but his sudden outburst. Shocked by the rawness of it. Shocked by how he'd waited till now to make such a stance known, he usually spoke exactly how he felt in an instant. Why didn't he make that clear to you from the start, you wondered?

That night you sunk into bed without feeling Geta's skin against yours, without his touch. He kept on one side of the massive bed for the first time since you'd ever shared it with him. And you didn't know what to make of that.

///

A couple nights ended just as that one had, silence filling the space that was usually occupied by heavy sighs and the thud of your bodies against one another's. You did as he asked, you asked little to nothing of the man. So why was he still keeping such a distance from you? 

Sleep evaded you as answers did too. You took to wandering the halls to tire the spinning questions ever on your mind, a poor guard forced to linger close behind your restless quests.

Often nothing happened. Dark cornered dead ends spun your heels, and you ended up back in bed, you'd sleep, or you wouldn't. And then you'd end up wandering the next night, your habit threatening to wear a sorry familiar path along the rugs. 

But one night a light shone from a room you often found dark. You were curious enough to move ever closer toward it, but weary enough to go slow.

In the parlor you found Julia and her son. Caracalla was sipping from a cup of tea as a bevy of guards lined the outskirts of the room. His face grew long with a grimace at the sight of you. But Julia was alight, waving you to come and join them.

"What's this? Come to suck up royal blood like the common tick you are? Why would you allow this nobody such free reign of our home, mother?" The half reigning emperor really had a knack for dramatics. He'd never had a good word for you, but ever the creative and new verbal lashing. 

"Come now, Caracalla. She wed your brother. She was anointed. She's one of us now, official as they come." Julia stood to greet you, giving you a strong look that made you want to hold your breath. She was always planning something, it seemed. You could tell her mind spun now.  "Besides... She's already with child. Already carrying the future heir. Isn't that right? There is much to plan ahead for." 

Appalmenthaltedyour senses and all logic. You sure hadn't yet been given a reason to think you were with child, and knew she couldn't have a reason either. You couldn't decide if you wished she was right or wrong right now. Julia was looking at you as if to suggest you find a way to make it true in an instant. If you were, would that mean Caracalla would step away? Or would that ensure a plot for him to end your days? He wanted such full control. You'd been told by Geta not to dare threaten the stakes of the game between his brother and himself until further notice. But Julia, as before, had done so anyway.

"You really shouldn't have told me that, mother." Caracalla grinned wickedly, rising up from his chair. A shiver crept up your spine when you turned to find the way he was looking at you. 

"Now, son, you have an entire half of this empire to guide. Shouldn't you be off ruling like you say you wish too so badly?" Julia snapped. She was a bold and brave one to do so, in the frighteningly little leaders wake. Caracalla kept his bone chilling glare fixed on you as he saw himself out of the room, guards following. Yours had waited out in the hall. So, when the room went quiet and Julia was left lingering at your side, you couldn't help but let panic show.

"Why did you do that? What if I'm not-"

"These boys are entirely too focused on the dynamics of their fight, and not nearly worried enough about the outcome of the empire they're running." Julia explained in a sharp hush. Her usual kind eyes were wide under furrowed brows and pointing sharply at yours. 

"You and I have to take the reins of the little control we're allotted, weather we wish it or not. How much clearer do I need to make it to the lot of you that the time for games is up? Rome is tired of playing. And I will not stand by for the people to overthrow the hard work of many leaders past- because my imbecilic sons hate each other enough to divide the empire. You better get to work on the heir to this throne, because even what you and I can do together won't likely be enough."

Julia's cutting and hissed speech left you in a stupor. She huffed out of the room, your guard sauntering in confounded as you stood there processing everything that had only just happened. There was no way you were going to be able to sleep tonight.

///

The day of duties had nearly come to a close. You'd had another meeting with the senators. They let you talk until you were blue in the face about changes to policies and addresses to the public. But they only sent you off with another party to plan. You'd shared a quiet meal with Geta, glad when his eyes met yours over the course of the meal. Frustrated when little to no conversation sparked as you ate. Geta only mentioned something about following you up to the room as you finished, heading up the staircase.

In the hall before the second turn you were meant to take, a sharp whistle cut through the darkened home. There was a light on in the parlor, and an eerie silence stayed after the call. You looked to the guard at your side, and he looked to you, tilting his head to imply he'd go first to investigate. But you waved at the guy, hurrying to creep at the pace he set, something in your gut insisting you peer into the illuminated room.

Caracalla stood near the back of the parlor, a room covered in that ugly wallpaper you hated so much. In his grasp, he held Julias arms to her chest, and a knife to her throat. There were no soldiers in sight beyond yours. A horrible mistake. A terrible instance.

"Hey you, blood sucker, don't move." Caracalla taunted you, tightening his grip around his mother who shook with fright in his clutch. "Come in. If you turn around, she dies. If that guard follows you, she dies."

With a careful glance toward the man who usually followed you around, you stepped forward, holding a palm out to insist he stay back as demanded. In a slow creep you entered the room, watching the wild eyed emperor consider your every move. 

"What are you doing Caracalla?" You begged to know, voice steady and low. 

"Now you and I both know you're far too worthless to ever threaten my position, right commoner? You and I both know you're only playing a small role here but, I'm not so naive to the plans for bigger things you all have at my expense." Caracalla spat an explanation your way, wearing the most twisted version of a smile you'd ever seen.  "So, I was hoping we could all come to some sort of agreement tonight. Ah, brother just in time- no, no wait." 

Caracalla's speech ended when Geta must've loomed in the doorway behind you. You didn't dare turn to see. Geta must've waved a guard to follow or moved to draw his sword. Because Caracalla was screaming next "Do not come into this room except alone and with your palms facing me! I will kill her if you decide on any other move!" He yelled so loud spit flew from his lips, face scarlet with rage. Julia trembled in his grasp, biting back sobs you could tell. 

Geta eased beside you, his entrance into the room as calculated as yours had been. His hands up as his sibling demanded. 

"Brother, I'll give you some choices. I know you're a big fan of options, having rarely taken kindly to my demands." Caracalla went on, sickening grin ever growing. He tightened his hold on his mother, a knife so precariously nudging against her throat. Before going on, he glanced up to the guards outside the door, demanding they shut it. He had to shout once more and nod to the woman in his grasp before his wishes were granted. When you heard the thing shut with a hollow thud, your blood ran cold. 

"Now, your choices Geta. You see one of us in this room has to die. One of you." Caracalla was practically beaming, like a child thinking up a rule to a game to play. Julia screwed her eyes shut and muffled a cry. "It could be our dear mother. She's been too crafty, meddling around, making decisions no one but the likes of we emperors ought to be making."

Geta let his hands fall slowly, keeping a laser focus on his brother. 

"Or, It could be your lovely new wife and alleged unborn heir." You felt your fists tighten at your sides, your body frozen in place with a new wave of fear. You felt Geta look to you with a shock you prayed Caracalla couldn't read. You didn't know if you were with child. And you hadn't yet brought up Julia's pressing such matters to the front of your mind. Geta had other matters to deal with the past evening. And he'd been clear about you keeping your own plans to yourself. That must've meant his mothers, too, you were certain. "I'm sure your wife's a fine and easy shag. But her presence here is a threat, no matter how inane I can see she is. And if one commoner should shake up this empire, I'd hate to have to deal with your half bread ilk." 

And before Geta could rocket into rage, Caracalla reminded him that any wrong move and Julia's life would be the one taken, and then the rest of yours would follow suit. 

"Let me finish... you could obviously choose yourself, brother. With you out of my way, I won't have to worry about the fate of the women in the room. I can do with or without them whatever I please. Should you be so chivalrous as to take the fall?"

"You're worse than mad." Geta shook his head, keeping a study on his sibling. Your heart hammered as you waited for the plot of this meeting to unfurl.

"Trouble deciding, I see. Let me help." Caracalla kept his wicked grin as he decidedly and swiftly moved the knife away from Julia's throat before flinging the woman flying to the ground, against the wall at Getas feet, with a crushing thud. What a ruthless fucker. You barely had time to register that the boy had disregarded his mother in a heap, before he was lunging for you. 

Caracalla had you in a stinging grasp in the blink of an eye. His plated chest pressed against your back. His left hand held your wrists in one vice like hold, at your stomach. His right held his knife to the bend of your neck. 

"How's this view, Geta? Inspiring any choice? Time is ticking. I'd hate to make up my mind before you do."

Your brain was working overtime, spinning up a dozen ways out of this. You'd been squirming against his hold since Caracalla reached for you; and it had worked to loosen one of your wrists from his grasp juuust enough to think of breaking free. But you knew you only had one chance. And as he asked Geta to make a choice, and before anyone spoke again, you moved at the speed of light. In one swift action, you yanked your hand free and swung your elbow back hard as you could muster to crack against your captor's nose. 

Caracalla was caught off guard enough to reactively let go, and you were quick enough to spin and sweep his feet out from under him with a carefully kicked foot. This made Caracalla fall to the ground, his knife clattering at his side, his nose pouring blood, his elbows cracking against the marble floor because his hands were too busy reaching for his face to save his quick fall. Geta was fast as you, giving you a flash of a look before his hand extended to shove you away. As he reached for his brother's knife, Geta's foot stomped on Caracalla's chest to keep it down, with a crushing thud.

You clattered over to Julia's side, who was still slumped in tears on the floor. You knelt to her, reaching out an arm as you examined her finding no blood or bruising. Only tears stained her complexion as she watched her sons descend into the eye of the storm of their decades long war.

Geta had Caracalla by the throat, his fingers digging into his brother's neck as he knelt over him. "Didn't I warn you to watch your back, time and again?" Geta spat. "And didn't I tell you to never speak so lowly of my empress just the other day? I made my choice long ago, dear brother, it's always been you." With a cry that had built up over the years, with Caracalla's knife, Geta plunged the instrument into his brother's neck, twice over. Julia buried her head in your shoulder as it happened. You listened to Geta's yell, to the sound of tearing flesh, the sputter of blood. You watched as Caracalla fought his way to bleakness, legs twitching, mouth moving to speak and only spewing red. You watched Geta throw the knife to the ground and rise to stand, his hands finding the back of his head as he heaved to breathe and paced about the room. You saw, between your husband's spiral, that damn ugly wallpaper.

It wasn't long though before Geta knelt before where you did, gasping an apology. He looked to you for a moment, but he was speaking to Julia, you understood. She pulled away from you to look at him as he whispered another sorry, as she cried. He began to reach for her, but the mother shuddered away at the sight of his blood-stained hands. And then with a shake of his blonde head Geta's eyes were on yours again.

"Are you?" He wondered, still breathless, still in a daze. But despite the way the room had begun to spin for all of you, you understood what Geta was asking. 

"I-I don't know." You shook your head, quick to make it clear that it was up in the air. You could've easily been pregnant. But you hadn't had a reason to think you were. Unless Julia cast a spell on you that evening, you couldn't be certain.

Geta's expression shifted a few unreadable times, as you decidedly turned your focus back to consoling Julia. Geta apologized again, and looked about the room. He ultimately stood and opened the doors to the guards and demanded they take care of the body and the blood and wake the coroner. When they took his body Julia went with it. When Geta looked to you there were a million what if's turning into what now's between the two of you. The fight for power had ended, but was there a plan for such a time as this? Was it ever meant to end?

///

Caracalla was laid to rest by Julia's demands. She decidedly packed her things soon after, to spend a month mourning nearer the sea- and to wait out the public's inevitable celebration of her son's death. She'd always known the he was a tyrant and a bully and whatever could be worse than that. But he was also her son. So she went off. 

And all of a sudden Geta was in charge of everything. He freed Caracalla's less threatening prisoners, he addressed the people of Rome and wished to unite them. Geta was taken aback by the mix of praise and disapproval he was met with. Folks celebrated his keen and swift leadership. Folks celebrated his slaughtering his own sibling for the betterment of the empire. Folks denounced his eager leadership. Folks denounced the murder of his sibling, calling Geta as ruthless and power hungry as his brother. Suddenly there was no brother to carry the blame, no brother to take up the honor. There was only Geta.

For the next weeks, Geta was always awake. On the strolls you took past midnight; you found him drafting plans and laws and making sense of things once out of his control and understanding. 

For the next weeks, you hardly heard from the man you wed, decidedly trapping yourself in the room full of canvas and paint and quiet. You weren't even inspired to create, but your fingers moved still to make sense of this new reality in some way. You filled up many frames with rocky blue waves and darkened mountain ranges. 

For the next weeks, you'd rarely felt the emperor's touch. He'd crash into bed as you were scrambling to leave it. He'd appear in rooms you grew sick of staying in, missing your presence, you, passing by his.

Until one day, you were moved to linger about the meeting room as your husband and the senators were setting up a meeting. You sauntered about, restless as the men settled into a discussion about budgets and plagues and armies. A few of the men of the assembly began to bicker about opposing views, as Geta sat letting them. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as the pair argued on. You wondered when the last time he'd had a full night's rest was. 

As senators were arguing about Caracalla's former wishes for the empire, Geta began to insist they cease their chatter. One of them seemed to stall their argument, but another surprisingly turned to you.

"What do you make of this quandary, empress? You've always been wise to-"

From his slouched position, Geta interrupted. "My brother is dead. My wife isn't privy to all of the information needed to decide. I will decide the outcome of this debate. You must stop arguing just to oppose." His announcement was abrupt, his patience wearing thin, you could see. But maybe you could help ease the tension he held throughout himself. You'd been able to before. Maybe you could be made to understand more.

"Are you sure I can't-" You eased into wonder, locking your gaze with Geta's weary brown eye's. He listened for a moment. But then his patience had run out, eyes screwing shut, hands facing out keeping you back, keeping you away.

"No, please" He implored to you, eyes full of pleading. As his gaze grew more heavy, and began to turn toward someone else, you recognized an anger in his expression. Then you saw his focus on the guards near the door. "Take her to the hall!" 

Taken aback as you were by Geta's outburst, you knew better than to fight him, than to argue back. Not in the heat of the moment. You'd decided you'd get him to listen to you one way or another, eventually. But you knew the man well enough now to know this wasn't the time or the place. With a nod you hurried ahead of any guard and sliped out of the room, down the hall, to the gardens. 

You spent the afternoon there contemplating only simple things with the gardeners. Like what the bees thought when winter came or what flower the workers liked best. You found the dining hall alone and thanked the cooks for the meal. You savored your dinner wine and stalled your time up to the bedroom. You figured sleep would evade you yet again. You dreaded the practice of trying to rest when you just knew you wouldn't be able to.

But when you did go up, Geta was there, already sleeping. You were glad to see it, having missed the sight in a few days time. As you eased into bed at his side, you moved slow and held your breath. You'd hate to wake him. But then,

"What would you have said?" Geta's whispered wonder nearly caused you to jump, having assumed he wasn't awake. 

"What?" You gasped, nearly laughing as you settled into bed with less precision now. He didn't move at your side but he did speak up again. He asked how you would have handled the issue with the senate if he would have let you. You only thought for a moment before answering. And once you had, quiet took over the room again. You'd hoped it would be broken by Geta once more. But you watched his breathing slow and realized he'd eased into sleep at last and dared not move to change that. But you wanted to keep talking. You'd always had such meaningful banter. You wanted to ask if he was okay, because you knew he wasn't, you wanted to be so much more to Geta than he was letting you be. 

But instead, you let him sleep.

///

There was a party the next day, a game in the arena. You were pleased to walk by Geta's side, delighted to find a grin turning up the corners of his lips one of the first times you locked eyes with him that morning. But soon after a brooding took over his countenance that showed no signs of letting up.

As the pair of you left for the arena, you took on the task of sharing kind hellos and nods to the people who lined your path. You shook hands with the folks who hosted the games, and listened to their stories and shared some of your own. You shielded your eyes from the hot sun and felt glad to be out in the day, instead of roaming the halls of that dreary home. You watched the fighters in the circle duel, and turned with a frown to find Geta's unfocused gaze fixated elsewhere. Undecided on how to snap him out of such a haze in the midst of such a public event, you went on taking on the task of shaking hands and sharing smiles.

You were left alone to host the dinner that followed. Somewhere between the first pour of wine and the blessing over dinner, you realized Geta had left the room. But it was full of senators and socialites and friends you'd now come to know. And you were at the head of the table. So you lifted your glass in a toast to the rest of the year under the ever-shifting rule of the empire. And you ate. And you laughed and when the night ended you shook hands and shared smiles.

As you began to see everyone out, a pair of men lingered nearer the dining hall than the exit door. An elder with a wiry beard stalled with a furrowed brow, but a gentle grin. 

"As you know, Julia wrote to us, inviting us to tonight's events. But I see she isn't with us?" The man began to address you. He'd introduced himself over dinner, along with a handful of other faces you'd only just met that night. 

"The royal mother is still seaside. I'm sure she'll be sad to have missed your appearance here." 

"Well, your highness, that's the thing. Julia wrote to us... about you. You see, I'm a doctor. She insisted we make your acquaintance and check-" 

"Oh." You offered this poor old fellow a clenched smile as you realized where this was going, sparing the guy the further awkward explanation. Of course the woman sent them here without telling you first. She'd decided to curse pregnancy upon you without asking first. And now, because you were superstitious of the way this whole possibility had been continuously pushed, you told the doctor to stay. 

It wouldn't hurt to check, right?

///

Your stomp up the stairs was determined. You'd just been reminded that your fate, in your hands or not, was not just your own. Born to die, maybe. Living to lead some kind of life with Geta? Sure. But the second half of that 'some kind' was yours. And you were tired of waiting for your turn. You marched up the stairs, with an entire new plan in mind.

Maybe it had been enough, to be married, to host parties. Maybe that was okay. Maybe Geta was ever changed after the murder of his brother. And maybe you couldn't help the man out of his stupor from that. But you weren't going to sit around and wait for Geta to catch up with the changing paces of the empire. You were going to remind him that you were dictated to stay here because there was more to you than a kind smile and a commanding presence.  As you considered the entire life you'd led that ended up in your arrival here, and the life you'd spun into so far this season, you headed to your room. 

But in there, Geta wasn't sleeping. He was sat in that tiny chair at that tiny table in the middle of the room, with his elbows on his knees and his head hung low. In his loose clutch was a nearly empty bottle of wine. 

You eased into the room, shutting the door with care. The flicker of the lanterns in the corner guided your step into the middle of the room, where you stalled before Geta's miserable slouch. Before you could think of how to address the man, he was lifting his head to peer up to you. Geta seemed as if he could cry, the weight of his new reality evident all over his face.

"I was wrong." He whispered. You cast the man a puzzled glare as you settled into your posture before him. Decidedly, you spoke in return.

"I hope you're not regretting what happened to your brother. Unfortunate as it may be to lose family, he had it coming, don't forget-"

"No, I was wrong when I said I didn't want to need you." Geta implored, gazing up at you with big glossy, anger filled eyes that softened as your brow furrowed.

"I do need you. I want you here with me. And I need you here for me. I was wrong." Geta's admission seemed to hiss its way out of the very pits of himself. And as he finished speaking, the emperor slid from the chair to fall to your feet, head pressing against your knees, wine bottle clattering to the floor.

As this powerful man reduced himself to a puddle before you, you felt the rise of a certain power within yourself. You'd come up here with every intention of swinging for the fences. But Geta had submitted himself at your feet by his own will. 

"You need me after all, your highness?" You breathed, carding your fingers through the emperor's golden locks as he stayed in his slump before you. Geta muffled a yes, it sounded as if he were truly near tears now. It could've broken your heart, the cracks in his voice, if you weren't surging with adrenaline now.

"Good. I'm glad you've come to your senses. Now let me tell you what I need." You started, curling your fingers to latch withing Geta's hair, pulling his head back for his eye's to find yours. "I'm done parading around as a glorified party planner. I'm acting as more than a wanton body for your bed, now. You promised me value and respect. And I hope I shouldn't have to remind you of that promise ever again. I hope my demands to be heard shall no longer be put on pause. I refuse to raise your child from the side lines, Geta." You announced, voice soft but commanding as you could make it. 

His already drunken and dewy-eyed expression morphed into something wider and more stupefied. The emperor let his head turn to one side for a beat, and then the other, as if to shake his head. As if to ask if you meant it. 

You let your head move up then down, to assure it was true. Maybe Julia did curse you that night. But a child was never out of the question by how many nights you spent with your legs wrapped behind Geta's back. Things sure happened fast in this world, deaths and births and promises and problems were ever spun to life like passing storms in the royal court. But time always slowed in this room, for better or worse. Luckily tonight, Geta began to smile.

"I shall see to it all, I already promised. I promised you." Geta clawed his way up your figure. His body molding against yours with desperation and desire ever present. His lips pressed against yours, his fingers sunk into the skin of your cheeks. His skin was warm to the touch, as you peeled away the layers that had been covering it. You demanded that the man tell you what he needed then and there, desperate to hear such sultry pleas fall from his lips.

You saw to his wish to plow you against the mattress that's middle had been missing your union. You answered his call for your fingers to yank at his hair. He begged you for more. He swore there was nothing he wouldn't do at your demand. If you'd been dreaming, you never wanted to wake up. Especially if the next day meant you'd be finally allowed to make decisions that affected an entire empire. And now too, the heir to it's throne.

[makuzume]

Toge Accidentally Uses His Cursed Speech on You (Part 4)

🔅content: Light angst/light comfort; gn!reader; no pronoun mentions

🔅synopsis: It's been 2 days since you last seen Toge... How do you go about this? What are you supposed to do? You wonder how to address the situation at hand...

🔅a/n: "What happened to posting part 4 soon" I ended up scraping the entire part 4 draft and remade it because I didn't like it :'D Thank you everyone for being so patient and putting up w my bs aaa Let me know if you want to be in the tags list and enable ur tagging :3

[JJK Masterlist] [Part 1 & 2] [Part 3]

🔅Word Count: 2.2K

"...Should I... open it...?" You asked yourself quietly, looking down on your phone as you stared at the multiple notifications you received from Toge.

13 missed calls

31 new messegaes

All unopened, all unanswered.

Slowly, you hover your finger over to his chat box, however, you hesitate- quickly shutting off your phone and plopping down on the soft mattress where you sat.

While the rest of the Okkotsu family went out to watch the movies, you decided to stay in the house by yourself. "You should come...! I'm sure it will help lift your spirits." Mrs. Okkotsu offered, to which you kindly declined her offer.

You figured you needed some time to be alone for now, but the lack of presence in the house ended up cauing a deafening silence to fill the halls, creating more opportunities for you to overthink the recent events between you and Toge.

'...I wonder... what did he say...'

'...why am I so scared to read it...?'

Over the past two days, you've been comfortably staying over Yuta's family home in the city. But since Yuta wasn't there at the moment, his parents and sister have been kindly accomodating you the entire time.

You were incredibly embarassed and reluctant to stay over, afraid of becoming only a nuisance to the Okkotsu family, especially since current situation between you and Toge was not at all very dire, just an arguement between two lovers.

Fortunately, Yuta and his mother were understanding and very insistent that you were welcome for as long as you'd like. Afterall, you were also one of Yuta's closest friends.

Trying your best to not cause them too much trouble, you help out with minor chores like the dishes, setting up the table, throwing out the trash- but each time you do so, you were met with gentle scolding.

"We told you to rest! You're still very hurt!"

"No no no, you're a guest, put that down!"

"We are not letting you wash the plates. Go back to bed and lie down for a nap! We'll bring you some snacks later."

"Nonsense! You are not a burden! You are a good friend of Yuta, and he asked us to take care of you, so sit down and don't worry about us."

Though that did seem to reduce the amount of guilt you felt, you were still rather embarassed for staying over someone else's family home just to hide from an ongoing dispute with Toge. So, you figured you shouldn't overstay your welcome, at least.

You look at your phone once again, staring at Toge's contact name as you remember your last encounter with him.

Staring at the ceiling above, you allow the memories from the incident flood your mind once more- remembering the sorrow, the pain, the sadness....

The entire time you knew Toge, he had always felt like the safest person to be around with, and you trusted him more than anyone- be it about your safety or your feelings. Naturally, the shock from accidentally getting cursed would shaken you up quite a lot.

You were badly hurt, both physically and emotionally.

And even for a short moment, you even felt afraid of him for the first time.

A feeling you knew would devastate him if he knew.

As shy as you were to admit it, all you did the entire day after the incident was quiety cry inside the guest bedroom in Yuta's home.

You can say that you rather had mixed feelings about the whole thing. Not a moment has passed in which you weren't thinking about it.

At first, it was shock, then fear, followed by pain before sadness, eventually leading to worry- the feeling you were experiencing right now.

Why 'worry'? You think to yourself, curious as to why there was this sense of longing to see him despite the accident.

It was a strange feeling in your chest. Most certainly, you were still very much upset and hurt about what he had done to you, but still-

"...I wonder how he must feel right now..." You hug the pillow nearest to you closer to your chest, unable to stray away the concern you felt for him.

Perhaps it was the way he looked at you the moment he misused his speech on you. The way Toge's eyes expressed so much shock, the way his voice was filled with so much guilt and fear... You have never seen him act in such a way before, especially considering the fact that he was always the more calm and composed one between the two of you.

You couldn't get the desperate tone of his voice out of your head, and you frequently find yourself vividly remembering the panicked expression he displayed on his face.

"...He must be worried..." You whisper to the pillow you held tightly, your eyelids closing as you replay the events of the accident.

More than anyone, you understood him the most, and you knew that this must be really messing up his mind right now.

It was one of his deepest fears, hurting someome he loves unintentionally with his speech, and you knew how deep this sort of wound would cut him on the inside.

More so, there was also the fact that Toge had personally witnessed the tragic events that happened to his allies in Shibuya... not to mention the fact that he had also been heavily pinning the blame on himself for the death of innocent civilians' lives.... lives which he felt responsible of protecting, all because he led them to take shelter to the same area Sukuna had unleashed his Malevolent Shrine.

'Truly...' you thought.

'this must be really messing up his mind right now....'

You turn over to your side, eyes staring blankly into the empty air in front of you.

"...He was distant and acting different from what happened in Shibuya afterall... I know he didn't mean to hurt me..." you whispered quietly, trying to think of how to address the situation.

You sat up, your hand firmly grasping your phone, a hesitant but concerned tone evident in your voice "I... don't want to make him feel any worse than he already does..."

Without a doubt, Toge was always so good to you. So protective, so understanding, so kind, so loving...

He was always there for you at your lowest points... and you never even had the chance to return such comfort to him before, so you think to yourself:

'...it's my turn.'

Your previous attempt to aid his sorrow didn't end up so well, but that's why you were willing to try again; To try again for him.

He probably hasn't been consoled ever since the incindent in Shibuya either. You, Panda, Yuta, or even Maki hadn't heard from him the entire time, and that's considering that all of you are his closest friends.

You ponder about it, and then you realize he probably wouldn't have ended up hurting you by accident or behaving so distant towards everyone if he had just allowed himself to be comforted- to be held and be told 'it's okay.'

...And you couldn't help but want to be that person who does that for him.

The more you thought about this, the more you wanted to see him.

You already released all the shock, hurt, and sadness for the past few days through a few weeping sessions in the small guest room before, and you think it's about time to come out of hiding.

You try to gain back your composure.

"...I wonder where he is... I hope... he's not pushing himself." You glance at your wallpaper, looking at a picture of Toge holding up a silly little peace sign while he sat next to a cute little dog you randomly met on the street.

You couldn't help but chuckle softly for a moment, then, your smile slowly fades back to form a serious expression on your face.

You miss the smile in his eyes like in the photo.

The idea of him in such sadness, worry, and pain ended up hurting you just as much as well.

"...I should talk to him."

So, you unlock your phone, open messages, and look for his contact name once again.

His contact nickname and his silly little photo appear.

'Bonito Flakes'

"...There."

Just when you were about to tap his name, you paused.

"Uh... wait... what should I say...?"

You pull back your thumb from the screen, suddenly having a bit of a panic on how to address the situation.

"..How do I reach out to him...? What... did he text me..? Is he upset with me? Is he looking for me...?"

His last text was from yesterday night, so you weren't sure what should be the best mood to approach him at this moment.

Just then, as if fate had timed this moment perfectly, a notification suddenly pops up on the top of your screen.

1 new message from Bonito Flakes

You gasped, completely taken aback from seeing his name.

'Wait... I'm not ready...!!'

You panicked slightly, causing you to drop your phone on the hard wood floor by accident, a loud thump echoing throughout the room. Fortunately, the Okkotsu family still hasn't returned from their outing yet, otherwise, you'd give them another reason to be worried about you.

You sigh, picking it back up as you lightly shook your head to gain back your composure.

As you check your sceen, you see another text from Toge come in.

Then another.

And another.

It made you slightly nervous but curious as to what his multiple texts were saying right now, and it sort of made you even more worried to know what he sent.

Is he sad? Does he need you? Is he just reaching out? Is he leaving the school? Does he want to distance himself from you?

"I'll... wait a little..."

Ultimately, you decided to let him finish sending his messages before you view it.

He sent quite a handful of texts, and it took a while before the messages stopped coming in. But just to be sure, you waited for a few minutes in case he had any late follow ups.

"I'll.... wait a little more..." You whisper to yourself as you stare at the phone in front of you, hoping to view his messages during a time when he's offline- You just wanted to make sure there was enough time for you to process and react to his texts without the pressure of him waiting for your response.

But the green dot next to his profile picture was still lit up, meaning, that he would be able to immediately see your replies the moment you send it.

But you would prefer he only sees it AFTER you're done sending your responses.

Sighing heavily, you whisper once more '...I guess I'll wait again...'

You check again after a few minutes, it was still green. So you wait again.

More time had passed but still- the green dot remained.

You wait again.

It was all you could think about for the past few hours as you move back and forth from checking your phone to lying down, staring into nothing...

Untul finally, at hour three, the green dot turns dim.

And with that, you were left with no excuse to delay opening your inbox any longer. "...alright... here we go.... I guess..."

With a hefty sigh and a single tap of your finger, you open his inbox.

Your eyes widened suddenly, immediate shock at the realization.

With a quickened pace, you hurridly limped towards the nearest window, the cast on your leg creating a slight scratching sound as you drag it across the floor.

Pulling away the curtains, you scan the street below in search for the white haired boy.

You squint your eyes slightly, trying to adjust your eyes to the darkness of the night.

Then, you see him.

"He... he's still there...?"

On the opposite side of the street, there sat Toge on the small pavement across from Yuta's house.

His head rested on his arm and his head hung low, perhaps taking a bit of a nap as he waited for your reply.

A wave of guilt suddenly washes over you as you realize how long you've made him wait out in the cold for a single reply.

You text him.

Toge???? Why did you wait for me?

You look drenched, what happened???

How long have you been there???

But your messages didn't seem to get through, not showing a mark of it being delivered.

"His phone battery must've died...."

Instictively, you hurried out the room with a more detemined expression, carefully treading the stairs with your injured leg, and rushed out the door.

Unintentionally, the noise of opening the door a little too quickly echoed across the dead silent street, casuing Toge to immediately jolt himself awake.

He made eye contact with you while he remained seated across the street, shocked at your sudden appearance.

Embarassed for startling him, you slightly lose your confidence and shy away from his gaze, a small lump in your throat preventing you from voicing out any words.

Toge stood up slowly, his eyes widen but his chest beated out of nervousness.

He doesn't expect anything positve, but still, he remained hopeful, as much as he felt like he didn't deserve you.

"...um...." you started, hoping to break the akward silence that filled the air.

"...I-...."

"....."

"....p-...please, come in...."

....

[Back to JJK Masterlist] [Part 1 & 2] [Part 3] [Part 5]

a/n: So happy I finally finished this :')))))))) Shoutout to anon that poked me abt this that genuinely helped me lolol I just really needed a little push to finish this

NOTE classes are back ^^ and I'm doing some part-time comms sooo I'll be a lil busy but ofc I won't abandon this I luv this series <3

Credits to @makuzume on Tumblr || Do not steal, translate, modify, reupload my works on any platform.

tags list: @zhenyuuu @cowcreamers @mushroommorgue @yunho-leeknow @lemonnotade @exodiam @an-ever-angry-bi @cirieria @chifuyufirstwife @strxbxrrylover @sturns55

[minervas-hand]

Right to fear, wrong to believe

Just had a horrible realization and needed to meta it out.

How different they were before Edinburgh, when Crowley was sucked down into Hell.

Look at this flirty babygirl in the Bastille:

I mean could he climb that tree any faster?

(This is why I really like fics that place a more physical relationship here, pre-Bastille or just post-Bastille, because c'mon look at them. )

In S1 the next thing is 1862 and Crowley asking for insurance (with a cane ffs). And Aziraphale freaking out with his "fraternizing" BS. It's jarring, until we get 1827 filled in for us in S2.

@takeme-totheworld notes in this post:

Crowley sure went from "our respective head offices don't actually care how things get done" and "nobody ever has to know" to "walls have ears" FAST after Edinburgh. And Aziraphale went from looking at Crowley with hearts in his eyes to "I've been FrAtErNiZiNg" just as quickly. I'm more convinced than ever that Edinburgh was the first time Crowley ever actually got caught and punished for fucking around with Aziraphale/doing good deeds/whatever it was they yanked him back down to Hell for, and it scared the absolute shit out of both of them and changed the whole tone of their relationship after that.

Yes! - it's clear to me as well that the Edinburgh graveyard was a very bad turning point, where they both saw that Hell was listening and would intervene. And it did change their relationship drastically, for over a century and a half (really, until looming Armageddon loosened up the stakes for them).

But what about Heaven?

See the thing is, we know Azi's been worried about Heaven watching him for the past 6000 years.

But they haven't.

[GIFs posted by starrose17]

All this time, and Heaven had not seen them together. Hadn't noticed. Had not even LOOKED.

I want to mention what @starrose17 says about this here in this post:

What I love about this is her choice of words, “went back through the Earth Observation files.” This implies that these photos were already filed somewhere meaning somebody had to have been watching them which meant somewhere in the depths of the bureaucratic heaven there’s an underpaid angel clerk tasked with watching angels on Earth, and he’s been hording photos of his favourite Angel/Demon couple not reporting them to Michael because he wants to see what happens.

And that's exactly what this fic covers!: Spying Omens by @ednav

(Give this a read, it's fabulous.)

While I am here for this being exactly how that happens, the other scenario is colder and worse - there's no one watching, at all. It's just filing automatically and never seen until some Scrivener is called to pull a file.

From @fuckyeahisawthatat's comment here :

I found this scene to be quite chilling, actually. Not only is the idea of Heaven as a surveillance state brilliant (way to make “God is always watching” sound way more ominous) but this is exactly how modern surveillance states work. They don’t actively watch everybody all the time. That’s not physically possible for humans, and even if it is metaphysically possible for Heaven, it’s not a very efficient use of resources. Surveillance states watch people they deem “suspicious.” And once you’ve been put in the category of “suspicious,” they have massive amounts of data that they can comb through to collect a lot of information about you–to retroactively build a case justifying why you’re suspicious, to collect information about where you go and who you associate with, etc.

Yes.

So we either have secret collusion in the rank and file, or we have a surveillance state that is constantly reinforced to its subjects for fear's sake, for control.

(Well, it obviously could be both.)

BUT my point is… Up until Edinburgh, Hell has not been watching (or caring at least). And up until near the end of Armageddon't, neither has Heaven.

Oh, my poor Angel. Thousands of years, of denying yourself, of pushing Crowley away, of carrying around a tension that is it's own constellation.

After 1827 you might have reason, but for the 5000+ years before that?

Thousands of years and Heaven was not watching nor cared.

You were right to fear. And you were wrong to believe.

And that just breaks my heart.

[evilbihan]

Bi-Han was a good brother.

(original post here) I came back only to make this a seperate post so it shows up in the search and Bi-Han's tags again.

I think about this scene a lot.

People like to use Bi-Han's behavior here as an excuse to paint him as a bad brother and instantly assume that he always treated Tomas that way because of one mean thing he says to him in the entirety of the story mode, intros included.

It's almost like siblings never argue and say horrible things to each other that they later feel bad for. Personally, I believe this is the first time Bi-Han ever snapped at Tomas like that, for a multitude of reasons.

Smoke doesn't hesitate to talk back to Bi-Han, he doesn't seem intimidated by him at all. If Bi-Han were to really constantly put Tomas down and say hurtful things to him, he would be more hesitant to provoke him and avoid confrontation as much as possible. But he doesn't.

Of course, every individual is different but take it from someone who has grown up in an abusive household. If someone regularly insults you and belittles you, you're going to start walking on eggshells around them and that's not what Tomas does around Bi-Han at all.

Smoke's expression here displays hurt, anger and confusion. That's the face of someone who just got a reaction he did not expect. His body language would be different if he was used to hearing things like that from Bi-Han. He wouldn't look so surprised if he heard that whole "Lin Kuei blood" speech before. He also doesn't lower his eyes, doesn't flinch... nothing that implies Bi-Han ever talked to him like this on other occasions.

Kuai Liang's silence in this scene speaks volumes too. He doesn't try and defend Smoke, doesn't tell Bi-Han his words are uncalled for and he doesn't interrupt him either. I believe Kuai Liang was just as surprised as Tomas was by Bi-Han's sudden harsh reaction. Furthermore, there is literally no reason for him to step in.

Brothers argue, they get angry at each other. Anger is a normal human emotion and snapping at someone when you're angry doesn't make you a horrible person.

Let's talk about this scene next.

I feel stupid for even mentioning this take here because it's the silliest, most ridiculous and wildest thing I've ever seen but a surprising amount of people with flat-earther mentalities cling onto it, so even though it's obviously bs, let's debunk it once and for all.

Honestly, the first time I saw a post claiming Bi-Han kicked that rock on purpose to kill Smoke I had to re-read it twice because I couldn't believe someone would actually believe that and expect to be taken seriously.

If Bi-Han ever wanted to get rid of Smoke, he could have done so a million times already. He could have banished Tomas as soon as he became grandmaster.

He also could have aimed better.

Here's what actually happened:

Both brothers rush to the edge to check if Smoke is okay. Both are worried about him. If Bi-Han never cared about Tomas he wouldn't even have bothered coming over to see if he's still alive. He would have done the only reasonable thing in this situation, which is keeping an eye on Nitara who just attacked them.

Yes, the rock comes loose as soon as Bi-Han steps closer to the edge but that's entirely accidental and Bi-Han's surprised expression proves it.

You can see the exact moment his eyes say "Oh sh*t" because he briefly looks at the rock and instantly back at Tomas. He looks concerned, not pleased with himself like he just commited a clever murder attempt. He even reaches out as if to stop the damn rock.

He wanted to save Tomas.

It's disgusting how some people try to twist this moment into anything other than that.

Are we also going to ignore the subtle way Bi-Han puts himself in front of Kuai Liang, bracing himself while Kuai Liang flinches backwards during Nitara's attack?

What about the fight against Ermac? Bi-Han almost died, fought an insanely powerful being and his first instinct is asking his brothers if they're unharmed.

I've seen someone argue that he "only asks them if they're fine because he needs them for the mission" to which I say, they were fine. They literally looked fine, no blood on them, no scratches. Tomas didn't even go anywhere near Ermac and Bi-Han still checks on both of them.

We all know what happens next.

Yes, Bi-Han scars Kuai Liang as a way to punish him for his disobedience. Would a good brother do that? No, but a good grandmaster would. Is it fucked up? Absolutely. But again, Kuai Liang seems shocked, hurt and angry by what his brother did, just like Tomas before. Neither of them ever taught Bi-Han capable of something like that, indicating that while flawed, he was a good brother prior to his descent into madness.

When the fight starts, Tomas doesn't even try to step in. He only gets involved after Kuai Liang is injured. He wasn't expecting Bi-Han to go that far. It was a surprise to both of them because Bi-Han never once hurt them before.

As a side note, punishing his warriors for disobedience was certainly not something Bi-Han came up with himself, but rather something he was taught was acceptable by either his father or other Lin Kuei elders, but this post is meant to only focus on canon facts and what we see on screen so I won't elaborate on that here.

In a twisted way of a peace offer Bi-Han still offers a hand to Kuai Liang after scarring him and actually expects it to be accepted. He wants his brothers to join him, he wants to share the glorious future he has planned out for the Lin Kuei with both Tomas and Kuai Liang. Yes, he may be in the wrong but he wants them both on his side.

He wants it to be them against the world. He never intended for it to be him against them.

So far, that's it for the story mode.

Sadly, we never got to see what the relationship between the brothers looked like before Bi-Han gave in to corruption but the intros give us a pretty good idea of that still.

Mileena: "My bond with Kitana can't be broken." Scorpion: "I'd once thought the same of mine with Bi-Han."

They used to be close. If Kuai Liang really thought his bond with Bi-Han was unbreakable, there must have been good in Bi-Han before his frustrations led him to make all these bad decisions. Had he been some kind of abusive monster as the fandom constantly claims, they would have never been close to begin with. The brotherly love between them might be gone now but that doesn't mean it was never there.

Smoke: "Are we to be enemies for life?" Sub-Zero: "Unless you submit, Tomas."

Tomas doesn't want them to be enemies. Yes, he says Bi-Han has always been cold with him in another intro, but cold does in no way equal cruel or abusive. Bi-Han had valid concerns about Smoke's loyalty to the Lin Kuei when Tomas lost his family because of the clan. If anything, Bi-Han not trusting Tomas only shows he was protective of the Lin Kuei and worried that Smoke would end up wanting vengeance one day.

If Bi-Han ever hurt Tomas before, Tomas wouldn't be going out of his way to reunite the brothers, even asking for Liu Kang's help to do so. He says he can't forgive Bi-Han for letting their father die and yet he wants him back in his life. If Bi-Han had always been a bad brother why would Smoke want him back? Shouldn't he be relieved it's just Kuai Liang and him now? Instead, he's heartbroken that Bi-Han and him are now enemies.

Sub-Zero: "Resist me, and there will be consequences." Smoke: "And to think I once idolized you."

Tomas used to look up to Bi-Han. Who would look up to a genuinely horrible person? Absolutely no one. And for Bi-Han's part of the dialogue, he keeps warning his brothers, telling them to submit, to stand down, to not resist or try to fight him. It means he, too, doesn't want to fight them or hurt them.

Scorpion: "A shadow's fallen on your soul." Sub-Zero: "No, brother. I've seen the light."

What more do you need than this bit here as proof that Bi-Han didn't always use to be like this? Shadows only exist where light is present too. There must have been light in Bi-Han before said shadow corrupted him.

Both Kuai Liang and Tomas only resent Bi-Han for two things. Letting their father die and breaking his oath to protect Earthrealm. Nothing else is ever brought up.

At this point I think it's safe to say it's canon that Bi-Han was never abusive or a bad brother towards either Kuai Liang or Tomas.

That's it.

No headcanons, no what if's. No bullshit, just facts.

The only time Bi-Han hurts Kuai Liang is after he reached his breaking point and snapped and they're both equally ready to fight and hurt each other by then. Kuai Liang is even the one who draws first blood. Does that make him abusive too? Not at all.

[otaku553]

Hello! It’s me! And I’m back on my crossover bs again

A few years ago I had an idea for a Kirby demon slayer crossover but at the time my ideas for Meta Knight weren’t fully fleshed out. You can read some more of my ideas in the read more!

So originally my idea was that Kirby was an extremely talented young urchin that Meta Knight picked up in a town or a forest somewhere. Meta is the last remaining member of the Star Estate, a group of talents swordsman in the Corps that was nearly completely wiped out within the last century. Meta Knight, finding Kirby, saw not only extreme power and raw potential, but also a way to revive the Star Estate through a young talent that may grow up to be even stronger than him.

This inevitably happens, but happens much sooner than Meta expects, when Kirby is only 10 years old. Kirby learns the Breathing Style of the stars that Meta teaches him, but also has a terrifying talent for mimicry, and is able to temporarily copy any Breathing Style that he witnesses. Having surpassed Meta Knight in power and rank, Kirby takes Meta Knight’s official seat among the Hashira. That said, Kirby doesn’t have much of a mind for the more tactical and official side of the Corps’s duties, so Meta tends to take over for him during meetings.

Reactions to Kirby’s presence are mixed. Many of the Hashira bear some amount ill will against Meta, believing that Meta took in a child and trained him just to revive the seat of the Stars. They dislike that a child is fighting their battles for them, but have to begrudgingly acknowledge Kirby’s sheer strength. This results in a lot of people being rather surprised at just how tenderly Meta Knight treats his little ward, buying him little gifts and souvenirs wherever they go and making sure that he is healthy and safe.

Similarly to Urokodaki, Meta wears a mask to conceal his face, since he has been told that his face is too kind or too soft for his profession. He has offered to make Kirby one as well, but a mask would not do much to hide Kirby’s height and age anyways. Meta also carries two swords but only uses one— the second one is one of Kirby’s spares, just in case Kirby accidentally forgets or loses his own. (This happened about three times before Meta Knight started carrying the spare around.)

In this au, Dedede is a prefectural governor who continued ruling over his land after the daimyo-ruled han were abolished for prefectures. He comes from a long line of aristocracy, and is aware of demons wandering around at night but doesn’t get involved much with the demon slaying side of things. Meta is an old friend of his, and keeps him updated on recent local happenings with the demons.

Here are the two of them separately!

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 11

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: Blowjob, oral (f. receiving), sort of dirty talk, praise!kink if you squint.

Word Count: 4,418

A/N: Here's Ch. 11. I so appreciate all the love and support you're all giving this series. Hope you enjoy the latest installment. ❤️

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Y/N had a very hard time falling asleep that night. The bed was too big, the room was too dark, and there were strange noises around the room that she never even noticed when she was wrapped up in Dean's arms. 

She missed him. And the more she missed him, the guiltier she felt for hurting him. She knew, of course, that he would never force himself on her. That wasn't what she'd meant, but she saw now, that was exactly how it sounded to Dean. 

But she'd been genuinely curious and very worried about the expectations that went along with being a mistress. She knew if she said no, Dean wouldn't ignore her wishes and just attack her. But she'd wondered if there was a limit on how often she could refuse before she got tossed aside. 

Not that she imagined she'd be saying no or turning him down very often…or ever. All the man had to do was kiss her, or touch her lightly and she was gone. But all of the unknowns of this life he was asking her to commit to, still terrified her.

She hated the uncertainty of it all. When it was only the two of them, there were no uncertainties, everything was perfect. But they couldn't simply exist outside the world they lived in.

And the reality was that the world they lived in wouldn't bat an eyelash at Dean for keeping a mistress, but as his mistress, her entire world and place within it would be forever changed and she couldn't ever go back.

She simply had to decide if a finite amount of time spent with Dean was worth infinite ostracism from society. What would she do when Dean was done with her? Would she simply move into someone else's bed? Would she sell off her beautiful Tiffany's bracelet so she could go without a new protector for a little longer?

Her questions and their fearful answers kept her tossing and turning all night. In the morning, a soft knock at her hotel door pulled her easily from her restless slumber. 

She wrapped her dressing gown around her and opened the door a crack. Outside a young maid bobbed a curtsy and handed her a sealed envelope. 

“Just arrived for you, ma’am.”

Y/N took it, and called the maid back as she turned to leave.

“Could I please have a cup of coffee with scones and jam?”

She knew she wasn't going to be able to sleep anymore, so she might as well start her day. The maid nodded and hurried on her way.

The letter had obviously been hand delivered, since there was no return address or postage stamp on it. But she recognized Jessica's writing on the envelope.

Y/N sat in the green chair and tore it open.

Y/N smiled softly as she read the letter and then quickly scrawled a note, accepting the invitation, at the bottom of the page.

She put the letter in a fresh envelope with Jessica's name on the front, and gave it back to the maid when she came with her breakfast.

"Can you have a messenger take this back to 1511 Riverside?"

"Yes Ma'am." The maid said with another quick curtsy and a friendly smile.

After breakfast, Y/N bathed, and dressed in a simple day gown that she didn't need help to get into, and sat down to read. But her mind was far too distracted to concentrate on it.

She thought about going for a walk through the gardens, but it was a particularly frigid day and the idea didn't really appeal to her. 

So, for most of the day she stayed bundled up in the green chair, with a book that she paid no attention to, open in her lap.

Darkness came early, the winter sun setting before the evening had truly even begun. Y/N lit one small lamp, leaving the room dimly lit. Lord knew, she didn't need the light to read.

A delicious supper arrived and she picked at it, somehow both hungry and slightly nauseous at the same time. 

Finally, not long after the clock struck eight, Y/N decided to simply go to bed and possibly make up for the terrible sleep she'd had the night before. 

However, as she was about to stand up, a knock at the garden doors startled her. 

Dean stood on the other side of the doors as the wind and snow swirled around him. Y/N went to the door hesitantly at first, but then hurried the last few feet, wanting to let him in out of the cold.

She opened the door and waved him in. A gust of wind and snow followed him into the room and Y/N shivered. Dean closed and locked the doors behind him. Then he pulled the thick, heavy, velvet curtains across the doors to better keep out the cold.

"Freezing out there tonight." He said as he stomped his boots and shook his head lightly, knocking loose a few more fistfuls of snow. 

When he was finished, silence enveloped them and the tension expanded between them. Finally Dean waved to the unread book Y/N still held in her hands.

“Didn't mean to interrupt you.”

Y/N shook her head and walked back to the chair, setting down the book before perching on the edge of the seat 

“No, I wasn't really reading.”

More silence stretched between them, making Y/N wring her hands in her lap. Eventually she couldn't take it and the words just burst out of her as she looked up at him. 

“I'm so sorry, Dean. I never meant to make it seem like I thought you were some kind of monster.”

Dean shook his head, a few more snowflakes falling to the ground as he strode to the chair and dropped down onto his haunches.

“No Y/N, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten so angry. I just…” He trailed off, looking to the side and then at the floor. “I need you to tell me something honestly.”

Dean's voice sounded  unusual - strained and tight. Y/N nodded. “Of course.”

He looked back at her, his eyes level with hers. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts, before letting the words tumble slowly out of his mouth.

“Have there ever been times-” He dropped his gaze again, staring at her lap. “Have you ever…said y-yes, when you meant-”

“No.” Y/N said firmly, shaking her head. She cupped Dean's cheek and raised his gaze back to hers. She felt her heart clutch at the look of fear that he tried to keep out of his expression.

“God no, Dean. Never.” She felt tears gather at the look of profound relief that spread over his features. Had he spent the whole night and day worried and guilty he'd done something wrong?

She leaned forward and pressed a petal soft kiss to his lips and then rested her forehead against his. 

“I will always want you.” She said quietly. “It never stops actually. It's slightly inconvenient.” 

Dean exhaled a chuckle. “Tell me about it, sweetheart.” 

She was happy to hear his voice closer to normal and she kissed him again briefly, before rising from the chair and moving past him. 

She shook her head. “It's just…those women last night, they…”

She turned back to face him where he still crouched by the chair. “They were all talking about their lives and they made everything seem so…” 

She took a deep breath, searching for the word. “Transactional.” She finished, her shoulders slumping as her breath rushed out. 

Dean nodded slowly as he rose to his full height and walked towards her, pausing with barely two feet between them.

“Well,” he said quietly, “I suppose the truth is that, a lot of the time…it can be sort of, transactional.” He shrugged gently. Y/N nodded and looked at the floor.

Dean stepped even closer and raised her chin with his fingertips. “But that's not what I want with you.” He said, his voice adamant.

He sighed softly and his face was earnest as he spoke. 

“Look, I buy you things, and spoil you a little because…” He shrugged. “Because you deserve to be spoiled. You deserve beautiful things.” 

He let his knuckles trail down her cheek. “And I can give them to you, which makes me happy.” 

He cupped her cheeks in both hands and stared directly, and fiercely, into her eyes, taking in a deep breath. “But you don't have to…” He exhaled slowly. “You don't have to earn them. Do you understand?”

Y/N nodded and felt her heart ease slightly. But she bit her lip; something was still worrying her.

“I need you to tell me something honestly.” She said, echoing his earlier words.

“Of course.” He said, echoing hers with a slight smile.

Y/N began wringing her hands again, not sure how to word her question.

“Doesn’t it ever bother you that…I mean does it annoy you that you can't…or, I mean, that I won't…let you…bed me properly?”

Dean's eyes widened and then his expression settled into a frown. He opened his mouth to answer and then shut it again. 

He was quiet for a moment before stepping closer and taking hold of Y/N's hands in his to stop her squeezing and rubbing them over and over.

“Look,” he said, his voice low and deep, “I'm not gonna lie and act as though I don't wanna…” 

His nostrils flared as he drew in a deep breath. “...don't wanna take possession of all of you, every inch of you. Or pretend like I don't wanna bury myself so deep inside you that I forget my own name.” 

His voice was rough now and his eyes blazed with heat, making Y/N's core clench and her body ache a little. 

“But,” he exhaled roughly. “I understand. I realize that…no decisions have been made about your future. And you don't want to commit to such a permanent action when this may be a temporary situation.”

Y/N was immensely grateful for the way he understood her. She never would have been able to say it so concisely.

He continued with a smile. “So, I can wait. There's no rush, and I'm perfectly happy with what we have here and now.” 

Without warning, he yanked her flush against him and she gasped as he breathed against her lips.

“Speaking of the here and now, are we finished this here fight now?”

She chuckled breathlessly as he tilted his head so he was almost kissing her, holding back slightly, waiting for her answer.

She nodded quickly. “Yes, god yes.”

That was all he needed to hear for him to crash his lips down on hers and simply inhale her. His fingers bit into her hips as he tried to press her even tighter against him.

She pushed his heavy coat off his shoulders, sending his suit coat with it. Grasping frantically, she was tugging on the buttons of his waistcoat and then his shirt, desperate to feel his taut skin and firm muscles under her fingers. 

Dean pulled away with an annoyed growl to unlace his boots and kick them off. The task was made more difficult by Y/N's refusal to stop running her hands over his shoulders and back while he crouched in front of her. 

Finally his boots were off and he stood up quickly, driving Y/N backwards, till he could slam her against the wall.

“Sorry.” He said gruffly, but Y/N shook her head. 

“Doesn't matter.”

She pulled at his hair as he bent his head to suck bruises into her neck.  He pushed open the sides of her dressing gown and cupped her breasts through the thin silk nightgown underneath, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples.

“Dean!” She shouted as he tugged on one roughly.

He pushed off her dressing gown completely and then pulled the straps of her nightgown down over her shoulders, so that it slipped down her body and settled at her hips. He dipped his head and nipped at her breast, making her gasp before he smoothed over the spot with his wide tongue, and the gasp turned into a moan.

Dean’s voice was harsh as he spoke against her skin. “Goddamn, I missed you last night. Did you miss me?”

Y/N did her best to answer but it mostly came out as a whimper when he pushed her nightgown up between her legs, pressing against her soft mound, and warming the silk under his hand.

He chuckled darkly. “Yeah, I think you missed me.”

He pressed the material of the gown more tightly against her, rubbing at that overly sensitive button through the silk. The incredible feeling of the material, so soft and wet, as Dean rubbed it against her, quickly had her standing on tiptoe, grabbing at Dean’s shoulders for balance. Dean took away his hand but quickly slid his knee between her legs and pushed it hard against her aching core 

She knew what she was doing this time, and quickly began riding his thick thigh, rubbing back and forth on it, occasionally lifting herself an inch or two and shuddering at the impact when she pushed herself back down against the hard ridge of muscle in his leg. 

Dean raised the pooled silk at her waist and lifted it off over her head, tossing it aside. As she rode him, he trailed his fingers across every inch of her flushed skin. 

Finally he slipped his middle finger into her slick, swirling the rough pad of his fingertip against that magic button only a handful of times before she was exploding, shaking with her release. He held her against the wall for a long time, kissing her, licking and nipping at different parts of her naked body. 

He eventually eased back slightly when she could stand on her own, tilting his head forward to kiss the tip of her nose. 

As her heart fluttered at the sweet gesture, a thought entered Y/N’s mind and it wouldn’t leave. Dean’s head was dipped slightly, kissing the tops of her breasts. She ran her fingers through his hair and then spoke softly into the silky aftermath surrounding them.

“Dean, would you explain something to me?”

Dean murmured against her breast, making a sound in the affirmative.

“Could you explain…I think I know, but I’m not sure…” Her hesitation brought Dean’s gaze up to hers, and he arched an eyebrow. “Um…what exactly does it mean if I say I want to ‘get on my knees for you’?”

Dean’s eyes were nearly obliterated by his black pupils spreading over his mossy green irises. His breathing was slightly shallow as he spoke.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Last night some of the women were talking about being ‘on their knees’. Some of them seemed to like it, some of them didn't, so I thought I’d ask what it means.”

Dean’s jaw ticked and his whole body was hard. She could feel the telltale evidence of his desire as it pressed through his pants and into her thigh.

“What do you think it means?” Dean asked, his voice rough.

Y/N felt herself blush. “Well, I’m not sure, but it seemed like a way to pleasure you.”

Dean nodded. “Yes, it’s,” he cleared his throat, “it’s referring to you being on your knees in front of me, so I can…” He seemed to struggle for a minute, swallowing several times. Finally he cupped her cheek, and ran his thumb heavily over her lips.

“I’d use your mouth instead of your body, for pleasure. I would…push in and out of your mouth instead of…” He cupped his hand between her legs. “Instead of here. 

He licked his lips. “We’ve already done something similar before, I mean you’ve put your lips around me, and that was…incredible.” He shook his head. “But this would be a little more intense.”

Y/N nodded. “And it gives you pleasure? Can it make a baby?”

Dean shook his head and then clarified. “I mean, yes it would give me immense pleasure, and no, you can’t make a baby that way.”

Y/N bit her lip. “Then I want to do it. Would you help me? Tell me what you want, what I should do?”

Dean closed his eyes. “Yes, I can tell you. But,” he opened his eyes again quickly and smoothed his hands over the curve of her hips. “Y/N you don’t have to do it. I don’t want you to think, just because you heard those other women talking, that it’s something that’s…expected of you.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, Dean I want to…” She kissed him softly and spoke against his lips. “Don't you enjoy giving me pleasure? With your mouth?”

Dean groaned roughly. “Yeah.” He croaked, his eyes closed.

“Then let me do the same.”

She pulled back from him a little and he opened his eyes again to stare deeply into her for a moment. Finally he backed away, nodding slowly. When he was a few feet away from her, he crooked his finger at her.

“Come here, and get down on your knees.”

Y/N felt a slight shiver race through her body as she stepped forward. She knelt slowly in front of him; the plush wool rug was soft under her knees.

Dean reached out to trail his fingertips down her jaw. Again he rubbed his thumb across her lips, softer this time. He dropped his hand and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth before continuing his instructions.

“Open your mouth.”

Y/N dropped her jaw into a small O, but Dean shook his head. “No, wider.”

She stretched her mouth open wide and Dean nodded. “Stick out your tongue.”

Y/N felt a little odd, but she did it, and the look in Dean’s eye was worth it. His body, towering above her, was hard and thick with rigid muscle and he looked primitive, like something wild and untamed. 

He stepped closer and reached out his arm. “I’m going to show you what to do using my fingers first.” 

He took two thick fingers and laid them against her tongue. She tasted the saltiness of his skin and began drooling. Dean pushed his fingers in and out a few times. Then he pressed them far back in her throat and she gagged a little. 

Dean pulled them out quickly. “Are you alright?” 

Y/N nodded and wiped away the drool on her chin. “I'm fine. Keep teaching.” She said with a mischievous smile. 

Dean's eyes glowed with approval as he continued.

“This time, I want you to lick my fingers, roll your tongue around the tips of them, and suck on them, lightly at first, then harder as you pull off.”

She nodded, understanding immediately, thinking of all the times Dean had done exactly that to her little bundle of nerves - sucking softly and then tighter and tighter until the pleasure spiked in her blood and she exploded into a million pieces.

God, I want to give that to him. She thought as she closed her lips around his fingers again.

She did as he directed and as she pulled off of his fingers with a pop, she could feel the way heat and wet pooled between her thighs. Pleasuring Dean was making her desperate for more of him.

Dean nodded at her, his eyes nearly black. “That's good. Very good.” He whispered.

He licked his lips, his eyes hooded as he looked down at her.

“Take off my belt.”

Y/N reached up and opened the buckle before sliding the long, supple piece of leather from around his waist. She touched the button on his pants and looked up at him, a question in her gaze.

“Yeah, take them off, underwear too.”

Y/N slid his clothes down over his hips and thick thighs, releasing his rock hard shaft to slap loudly against his lower stomach.

Her mouth began watering as she leaned forward to take him between her lips. She flicked her tongue over his tip, since she always loved it when Dean used his tongue like that on her. 

It seemed to work for him too, because he groaned and bit into his bottom lip. She stretched her lips around his girth and slid down his length reveling in the harsh groan that seemed torn from Dean's throat.

His shaft was much wider and thicker than his fingers had been and her lips fit very tightly around him. She moved slowly up and down on him as she got into the feel and rhythm of it. 

Dean tangled his fist in her hair as he coaxed her to take him a little deeper and then a little deeper still. 

His voice was a harsh rasp. “Drop your jaw, sweetheart, I think you can take a little more.”

He hit the back of her throat and made her gag again, but as he tried to pull back, she pushed further, taking the last inch of him down her throat. 

She pressed her nose against the springy hair at the base of his shaft for a moment before pulling off of him with a gasp. She coughed a couple of times, but then sank back down on him again. 

“Y/N,” Dean ground out through gritted teeth. “look at me. I want to see your beautiful face while you take every inch of me down your throat.”

She looked up at him and felt more pleasure sing through her veins at the look of absolute, aching need on his face. She bobbed up and down on him faster and faster. He was hitting the back of her throat over and over, but she didn't gag again. 

He rubbed his thumb across her cheekbone, and shook his head, his voice barely more than a growl. “You're so goddamn beautiful, sweetheart. So perfect.” 

He thrust into her mouth hard and fast three times. Then he pushed on her shoulders. 

“I'm almost there, Y/N.”

He pulled out of her mouth but she wanted to feel him explode against her the way she exploded against him. 

So she sank back onto him just as his hips jerked forward. Suddenly she felt warm liquid shoot out of his shaft, filling her mouth. She swallowed quickly, but a lot of it still spilled out of her mouth and down over her breasts. 

Watching Dean shuddering above her, his face fixed in an expression of pleasure so intense it almost looked like pain, she slipped her hand down to rub against that aching bundle of nerves, trying to relieve the intense throbbing that watching his pleasure had caused.

Finally Dean's breathing began to return to normal and he groaned again as he looked down at her, covered in his seed.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N. You're a vision like this. The most beautiful creature I've ever known.” 

He saw her hand between her legs and the way she bit her lip as she chased her climax and his expression softened. 

“It's alright, baby.” He said, pulling her hand away and helping her to her feet. “I'll take care of you.” 

He led her into the bathroom and began to run a bath. While the tub filled, he wet a cloth and wiped away the remnants of him from her skin. 

Then he turned her so she faced the tub and pressed his big hand against the middle of her back, bending her over to rest her hands on the side of the tub.

She felt his fingers slip between her folds to find her button and circle it lightly. But then he lowered himself down and sank his mouth into her her from behind. 

Within seconds she was screaming out another climax as Dean held her tight against his mouth. As it receded, she slumped over the side of the tub, her hands and hair dangling in the water.

Dean made quick work of shutting off the taps, tying her hair back out of her face and then helping her step into the tub on her wobbly legs.

He settled her back against his chest and washed her completely with slow, soft strokes. When he was finished, they soaked in the warm water for a little longer, until Y/N felt like she was boneless and floating. 

Dean finally stepped out as the water cooled, and then bent slightly so Y/N could reach up and wrap her arms around his neck, letting him lift her from the tub. As he carried her to the vanity seat to dry her, she shook her head.

“You know, you indulge me a little too much. I'm going to get far too used to being spoiled and pampered.”

Dean grinned at her and then caught her lips in a warm, slow kiss. “Good.” He said, dipping his head to place soft kisses below her jaw. “That's exactly what I want. You should expect indulgence and pampering.”

He finished drying her and braided her still damp hair; he didn't bother dressing either of them again and simply laid Y/N down naked against the cool sheets. He warmed her up as he climbed in beside her and pulled her close. 

They were quiet for a little while, and Y/N was close to drifting off when Dean pressed his lips to her temple and spoke softly. 

“Thank you for tonight, sweetheart. It was incredible; you are incredible.”

Y/N pulled back slightly, looking up at him, so he'd kiss her. He took the hint and his lips pressed against hers only briefly, just a fleeting brush of his lips, but as she looked up into his soft, mossy green eyes, Y/N knew beyond a doubt, something that she'd suspected for a long time.

This man is the love of my life.

The thought made her stomach clench and her heart hurt as Jessica's voice came back to her, the warning ringing in her ears. 

"I just want you to know the truth of the situation, so you don't go into this time with Dean holding on to some kind romantic notion. He is who he is and you can't change that.”

Y/N felt her aching heart sink a little further as she laid back down on Dean's chest, one question plaguing her.

What am I supposed to do now?

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[chaifootsteps]

there are so many little hints that support Blitzfizz and feel like foreshadowing

Blitzo's love letter to him, the way he still so clearly carries a torch for him and never let it go (and the way they have a bond because these two are actual childhood friends). The way he keeps calling Fizz a sellout to cope with his jealousy but it's also because he thinks Fizz deserves better than Mammon. The way Fizz feels smothered and overprotected by Ozzie. The way they both have relationships with a massive class difference. Even the way they made up ridiculously quickly once they both knew the other wanted to see them the whole time. The shot of Fizz and Ozzie kissing and when they part, Blitzo is between them. The way Fizz's "anyone who judges royals is just as bad" reads a lot better if we assume he's just projecting his own relationship insecurities onto Blitzo. The way Blitzo makes total heart eyes at him when Fizz makes him part of his routine in 'Look at This' and the way he blushes when Fizz is showing him blindfolds in Full Moon (just the general way he looks at Fizz with the most adoration and desire he's shown to anyone in the show - far more than he's ever managed to look at Stolas with)

it wouldn't make up for all of s2's writing problems but it genuinely would be a good plot twist/development if Blitzfizz happened. because the show hasn't really done much of anything to make it convincing why it should be stol1tz instead - Blitz will always hold Fizz in his heart, admires and adores him, but we have no idea what would be missing from his life if Stolas wasn't in it.

If anything it would be a net positive because he wouldn't be expected to clean up Stolas' messes anymore or deal with all his passive-aggressive 'I'm never wrong' BS. The whole redemption through accountability thing works far better with Blitzfizz because Blitzo did hurt him. It was an accident but it still had a major effect on Fizz. meanwhile the only damage Blitzo has done to Stolas is in Stolas' head - by Stolas' own admission Blitzo didn't mean to hurt him and it didn't mean anything; it was just his own delusions about what was happening that resulted in him getting his poor owl fee fees hurt

I think HB holds some kind of record for the amount of things that feel like foreshadowing, only to be discarded immediately, and Blitz and Fizz's relationship is definitely one of them. Everything about it just feels inevitable, but nope, sad crying owl.

[aurana-i]

I’m genuinely concerned about gw*nriels who say “Gw*n will change Az! He’s a f-boy now, he feels entitled to Elain, she’s his rebound but Gw*n will change him and they will heal together”

Like… are you for real rn?🙈

First of all, have you met f-boys in real life before? Good luck trying to change those, cause girl, you can’t change anyone! No matter how good and light and bubbly and this and that you think you are, sorry to break it to you, but you’re not special. Fboys stay fboys no matter how hard you try.

Second of all, “change”? I will speak words of wisdom of a wonderful SJM man : “You cannot pick and choose which part of her (or him in that case) to love”. When you love you don’t try to change anything in your partner you just learn to accept and adapt. A person changes only when it their own decision. And if Azriel in your opinion is a “fuck boy” then he will stay this way and his lovers should accept it.

If you say that Elain is Azriel’s rebound from Mor, then Gw*n is his rebound from Elain?😃 it’s your logic after all, why would Gw*n be different? Oh, because she’s his “mate”? The mate he didn’t care about for 2 years after her SA? The mate he didn’t give 2 fucks about when she was taken to a blood rate and had all chances at being SAd again and killed? You sure you understand a mating bond correctly? Suddenly, she will be special and heal him in his book (lol, yeah, sure)

Also, most importantly, you really want Gw*n of all fuckin characters in the series, who suffered from the actual SA, to… change… A MAN?! Who is a… FBOY?! ☠️ What is wrong with yall , do you hear yourselves? Do you not realise how messed up this is?

Cut with this saviour complex bs, it’s embarrassing and pathetic 🙄

Honestly, the amount of mischaracterisation of Az , Elain and Gw*n and even Lu*ien from gw*riles and el*ciens I witness every day is astonishing. Let me break it down to you:

Azriel is the opposite of an entitled fuckboy. To be an entitled fboy you need to have an ego and a self esteem the size of a mountain which Azriel doesn’t have.

Elain is not boring, is not weak, is not anyone’s rebound. Elain had a build up for several book already. She’s made, she’s a Seer, she’s an Archeron sister and the loveliest of them all and could bring kings to their knees with just a few smiles. She’s 10 times more important to the books than a random priestess.

Gw*n is not interested in Azriel or in any man.

Lulu is not interested in Elain nor does she in him. The only man she expressed interest in is Az who is obsessed with her.

What in these canon statements can’t you understand? How are Elriels the ones with “no reading comprehension skills” when your dumb statements exist? It’s not like yall are 10 y.o. and we try to explain to you quantum physics in Mandarin, right? The books are really simple to understand but yall prefer to have ships which are based on 10 year old interviews and one BC. What a joke.

[genericpuff]

Have you heard of the Bugtopia situation? Recently the author, idolomantises, chose to end their webtoon original series due to various reasons(low pay, their editor being fired,etc). It's honestly such a shame because their series has less than 50 chapters and ran for less than a year. He's happy in the end and still plans on making more projects, but the whole situation is such bs,

I have and it's unfortunate, but it sounds like they're making the decision that's best for them. Mad respect for that.

What I didn't realize initially though (until I did more digging on it) is that they're ALSO the creator of Monsters and Girls! Which actually has a significantly bigger following than Bugtopia and, honestly? Wouldn't be shocked if they're making more money through Patreon and Canvas revenue programs than they were making on Bugtopia to begin with LMAO I obviously don't know how much they were making in the Originals section OR how much they're making through their Patreon, but if I had to guess, the decision to leave Originals was probably made a lot easier by the fact that they also create another popular series that generates income on its own and isn't tied to a contract. And yeah, more power to them for that! Why put up with the bullshit WT contract if you're gonna be working 10x more with less rights and control over your work and for the same amount of money - if not significantly less - than what you were making before?

All that's to say, if you haven't read Monsters and Girls, go check it out! It's comedy x fantasy, just note that the humor and character art is a bit suggestive at times but if you're into sexy monsters and/or girls (which you probably are if you were into Bugtopia) then it'll probably be right up your alley ;3

(oh yeah, and fuck webtoons)

[bennie-jerry]

My Beef with Killmonger - An MCU Rant

I think people struggle to understand that not ALL villains are misunderstood—they’re choosing to be evil and that's it. 

Take Killmonger for example (I’m doing the MCU specifically because I haven’t read the comics—cry about it). 

Besides committing the atrocity of making those half dreads the Frank’s Red Hot for every media with black characters lately, there's aspects I don’t hear people touch on when it comes to Killmonger as a character. And if there are, I sure haven’t heard it yet---so I really hope there's some info on this man I'm missing here. But if no one's gonna call out this man’s BS, I will.

I definitely comprehend that Erik losing his dad was extremely traumatic for him to experience as a child. But Killmonger was only focused on revenge and power alone. Because of the fact that T’Chaka was dead, Erik couldn’t take it out on him and instead decided to channel his anger towards the entirety of the Wakandan royalty—even towards T’CHALLA (even though T’Challa had NOTHING to do with it). 

Even then, T’Challa was MORE than kind enough to let Erik see a Wakandan sunset BEFORE he died. 

“I’m sorry my father was a POS. Here’s a sunset, bro.” 

I get he's played by the oh-so handsome Michael B. Jordan, but let's remove the rose-colored lenses and consider something here.

On top of being a complete narcissist (who killed his GIRLFRIEND by the way), the guy also was just never EVER fit to hold power in ANY capacity to begin with. When the guy did kill (or believe he killed) T’Challa, what was the first thing he wanted to do? 

Did he try to help other poor children in the neighborhood he grew up in?

Did he make a memorial for his dead father?

Did he start a program for fatherless children (like HE was)?

Did he even TRY to do ANYTHING of value that would’ve been beneficial to others in ANY way shape or form?

Newsflash: The answer to all of that is NO.

The FIRST thing this man does as KING is start a WAR between Wakanda and the United States.

Literally his FIRST act as king is to begin an event that could very well have left so many of his people to DIE and cause mass amounts of generational trauma. Meaning there'd potentially be a bunch of children in Wakanda that ALSO won't have their fathers should they die in the war. Is that NOT a major red flag? 

The guy didn’t even DRESS like a king, he just walked around shirtless with a jacket like he was an NYC pimp. 

Even pre-kingship, he already killed LOADS of people before he got to that point. Sure, you could argue that it was in order for him to reach Wakanda or what he planned to do. But does that not raise MORE red flags about his original intent, then? 

Killmonger has a scar on his body for every person that he’s ever killed. The man’s torso is covered top to bottom in scars, meaning he has a major body count. So you’re telling me that this dude's okay with murdering innocent people just to get to a goal that was gonna lead him to kill more people ANYWAY?

Yes, I understand his trauma. Yes, I understand why he's angry at the world. Yes, I do think he's a great villain because every good story needs a good villain. But one thing I'll NOT do is act like this man's actions are justified when they're not. His conquest to create conflict highlights a SEVERE lack of genuine care for the very people he CLAIMS to wanna help.

He's a grown man who had every chance and choice to become better and he never took it because he chose to take his anger out on everyone else since the one who ACTUALLY committed sin against him had already DIED.

And when the “What If” series came out, Killmonger turned on EVERYONE he worked with, took the gauntlets for himself, and tried to reset reality.

Sure, you could say that Killmonger is a representation of black rage and on some level, I'd agree with you in terms of a story telling perspective. But storytelling dynamics don't change the fact this man is a piece of crap.

Don't EVEN try lying to me. The only reason this man has simps on Tumblr is because he's played by someone who's attractive. I bet if he was played by Steve Harvey, you'd all change your tune. 

Trauma never is/will be an excuse to do horrible stuff. Once again, trauma can make a good villain and good villains are necessary. My ONLY issue with Killmonger is that he has a railroad of fans that try to justify his actions.

It's one thing to like a horrible character. And it's another thing to say a horrible character is justified in what they do. The reason why I think it's so dangerous to do that is because it CAN (not that it always does, but CAN) translate into real life instances where people defend ACTUAL human-shaped monsters for things they do as well (ie they're traumatized and/or attractive). That's why we have hybristophilic fangirls slobbering over Wade Wilson (if you know, you know).

But at the end of the day, everyone has choices. Killmonger made his.

Even Killmonger's FATHER was saddened by what his son became while speaking to him on the ancestral plane.

N’Jobu: No tears for me? Killmonger: Everyone dies. It's just life around here. N’Jobu: Well, look at what I have done.

DAWG, WHAT MORE PROOF DO YOU NEED—

[snotty-zombie]

Rageous-tober part 4 (final)!!!

Day 27: Crossover (2 parts)

Day 31: Halloween

More under cut >xP

totally disregard all the writing if you dont care lmaooo this is just me word vomiting about my ocs and thought process when doing this haha i just thought id give some context cuz i always forget you guys know literally nothing about my characters

Day 27: Crossover! So this is a two parter, part 1 is Gumlee x Ritzneer obvvvvvviously because I’m basic I can’t help but compare them and a lot of others can’t help it either from what I’ve seen I had an insane stroke of genius calling Veneer ‘Prince Gumdrop’ and I don’t think I’ll ever reach those heights again

Part 2 of the crossover is MLP CROSSOVER!! Including unicorn ‘Colt Ritz’ which I am quite proud I must say considering I hadn’t drawn a pony in like- 10 years AS WELL AS Pegasus ‘Boogie Bomb’ which I am ALSO quite proud of, he has very big wings and is covered in little green spots (which mimic the spotty design he has on his shaved scalp as a Rageon) he looks a bit like a donkey but I think that’s just because of his little facial hair bits and massive pointy ears I gave him hmmmm Also, siren Velvet and Veneer!! I can’t remember the exact lore of the sirens since I haven’t seen the film in a real long time but I got some help from my friend who is a big MLP fan and she filled me in on the lore etc, as well as inspiration from another artist on here who also did a VV x MLP crossover, I reposted their amazing art on my other blog so def go check it out. Anyway, VV are sirens and disguise themselves as alicorns (but also hide their flanks as they have no cutie marks)

Day 31: Halloween!!! 🎃 👻 💀 🦇 🐈‍⬛ Last one!! This one took foreveerrrrr and again, I just had to try to outdo myself with the amount of bs happening on screen at once I tried to include all my main fav ocs, as well as the twins and KR all going door to door in a massive trick or treating horde

I called this the 'soft launch' of my Velvet and Veneer fan parents, Dr Velocity (mum) and Dr Voltage (dad), they're in matching Frankenstein and Frankenstein's wife costumes :3. They mean well of course as any parent does but their good intentions can get lost in translation (harsh punishments and struggling/refusing to understand their bizarre children). I will definitely give them their spotlight when I eventually get around to redesigning them (slightly) and writing out some information about them to share with you guys because I like them a lot :P

-Theres Glow Worm getting her costume repaired by Rhinestone after she ripped it doing multiple cartwheels in a row -Velvet and Veneer trading their sweets that they collected (you'd think they were discussing border placement or something, they take it so seriously) -Veneer and TV Girl finally getting along after telling their lame boyfriends to stop fighting with each other -And a zombie Boogie sketch I refused to finish whoops

SO YEAH THATS ALL I DID FOR RAGEOUS-TOBER, finally posting it to tumblr half way through November. be sure to check out the creators account, jobiesayscheese 😻😻😻 thanks for checking my art out, and if you read all of my stupid ramblings ily sm and thank you for hearing me out

I also did in fact win a raffle for Rageous-tober not to flex but yes to flex (totally wasn’t rigged cuz tf)

Part 1! Part 2! Part 3! Part 4!

[piosplayhouse]

Read some genuine and serious published and peer reviewed yaoi research the other day that was interesting but that I had a few criticisms of due to its position that yaoi is desirous to assumedly heterosexual women particularly because it presents an unattainable fantasy of sex that has zero risk or intent to reproduce. However while I understand where this is coming from I'm calling BS because what about the massive amounts of mpreg and omegaverse??

Because of this I am curious if any of you would be interested in a completely nonacademic informal survey on if/why mpreg/reproductive yaoi (technicality in that the guy doesn't actually have to get pregnant just have the capability to ig) interests you on a self-reflective level. Beyond because it's hot to get guys pregnant we know that already but if you have anything to extrapolate on the psychology of it I would be fascinated to know. Anyway I would probably make an anonymous Google form with a few free response questions for you all to type your deep thoughts on reproductive-centered yaoi if you would be interested-- there would probably be no crunchy data and I won't share anyone's answers unless they specifically want them to be shared. I'm just genuinely curious and would like to hear a variety of perspectives from a variety of backgrounds : )

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Hey can I have a platonic teen gn reader who has dyslexia( it is a reading and writing disability) x Avengers who goes to Peter’s school. They feel worthless and frustrated because they need help yet they can’t help others with English. So they try very hard yet it barely gets noticed. They are working so hard to the point they break. It is ok if you don’t do it. Thanks

Struggles

Summary: Working twice as hard just to reach their level.

Pairing: Avengers x gn!teen!reader

Warnings: I have a limited knowledge of dyslexia

Word count: 706

a/n: hopefully this is what you had in mind

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

masterlists | guidelines

Y/N mumbles a paragraph from the assigned book again. It’s the third time they are reading it through, struggling to fully comprehend what’s being said. Frustration is starting to rise, as the book has to be read by the end of the week, and they have to write a short essay on it to prove they read it.

“This one had a mast thin as a sapling. Its sail hung skewed and fraying, its sides were patched. I remember the jump in my throat when the sailor lifted his face. Burnt it was, an shiny with sun. A mortal.” They read out loud slowly, taking time with each individual word. Sighing, they rub the space between the brows, starting to feel a tension headache coming.

They don’t have a lot of motivation to do this, because they work so hard on every single assignment, but the grades aren’t showing it. It seems like everyone else in her English class is getting effortless As and Bs, while they are crawling along with Cs and Ds.

Slamming the book shut, they throw it to the ground. Y/N leans their head against the table, shutting their eyes tightly. The amount of work they have to put in their school work is starting to get overwhelming.

Taking a deep breath in and letting it out, Y/N lifts their head and gets back to reading. They know they have to use more time to finish the work, even if it’s starting to feel like too much.

Y/N stares at their paper as they and Peter walk into the compound. D. All that work for a D. Their eyes are burning as the two come up to the living room, where some of the Avengers are hanging out. Although, Peter doesn’t live at the compound, he spends a lot of his time there, being good friends with Y/N.

“Hey, kids!” Tony is the first one to greet them. “Got your English assignments back today?”

Peter nods, taking out his paper. “I got a B+.” He smiles.

“Great job, kid!” He claps his hands together once.

“I know the Avengers work takes a lot out of the both of you, so we want you guys to know we’re proud of you.” Steve smiles before turning to Y/N. “What did you get?”

“A D.” They mumble, eyes and cheeks burning. Their gaze is cast downwards, away from their team’s eyes. They don’t want to see any disappointed looks. “I’m sorry, I really tried. I worked so hard on it. I did my best, but it wasn’t enough.” Their voice starts to crack and their whole body shake.

“Hey, hey,” Natasha gets out of her seat, walking to Y/N, “it’s okay. Grades aren’t everything, you don’t need to apologize.” She wraps her arms around them.

“But it’s not just this assignment, it’s every single one.” They lean against Natasha.

“Why didn’t you tell us? Or ask help from anyone?” Steve asks.

Y/N hiccups, lifting their head. “I wanted to prove I could do it by myself, that I could be just as good as everyone else. But I couldn’t.”

“We all need help with something.” Peter sets his hand on Y/N’s arm. “I always need Steve’s help with history. I just can’t remember all the names and years on my own.” Steve nods in confirmation. “I’ll help you out with English, okay? We can work on the assignments together.”

Wiping away their tears, Y/N nods lightly. They didn’t necessarily feel good about crying in front of everyone, wanting to keep a capable picture of themselves in front of the others, but they still feel relieved to get it all out in the open.

“Thank you.” They whisper.

“We’re all here to help you, kid.” Tony speaks up. “Well, they are. I’m no help in book essay thingies.”

With a small laugh, Y/N nods again. “Do you want to go over our essays together now?” Peter asks.

“Yeah.”

Peter and Y/N start walking out of the room. “You two always make us proud!” Tony shouts after them, showing a thumbs up. Peter smiles giddily as they walk towards his room, craving Mr Stark’s acceptance.

[emmitaaa4]

Addressing some fandom BS inconsistencies

Gwyn was shadow mommy, Az was shadow daddy, they were gonna have shadow babies with her extra super pliable bones.

I audibly chocked when I read this @nikethestatue (btw everything said in this post was on point). No but seriously this is how they sound, too many of them insisting that there is nothing wrong with basing the likelihood of a ship on who has the more suitable uterus to be with a man... cause supposedly they're just picking up on the hints SJM wrote for them? She likes babies for HEAs so ofc children are the end all be all of a relationship, plus there's absolutely no way that she could ever write an adoption plot SJM is literally adopted and has done it in other series. Selective reading strikes again.

A minimum amount of critical thinking would tell you that 1) the infamous *magical uterus change* scene was about nessian (& feysand), not about any ship; 2) if SJM had written Nesta changing Elain's uterus, it would have given too much away, not to mention 3) how disturbing/violating it would have been for Nesta to change her sister's reproductive anatomy WITHOUT HER CONSENT?! None of it makes sense narratively; my girl Nes would never, especially given the trauma they both suffered from having their bodily autonomy--and so much more--ripped away by the Cauldron.

This argument is so trivialized that I see it every other day on reddit/tiktok/*insert media app*, and yet elriels are the toxic side of the fandom? The ones whom people are allowed to insult, to ridicule for theories all made in good fun, the women that are villainized over a difference of opinion? Don't get me wrong, there's assholes on both sides and people keep calling one another variations of delulu (and the nastier personal attacks). But by painting this fandom-wide villain there is such a lack of accountability for the plethora of harmful talking points spread by other portions of the fandom. (I've been silently reading the anti-elain & anti-elriel tags for like a year, and I'm on tiktok. Yes, I have self-destructive tendencies).

Anyways.

I never understood either how people ever actually thought (or well still think) that gwynriel would happen BEFORE elucien?? It makes no sense logically, narratively, or in terms of characterization & the arc she's set up for Elain, Azriel, and Lucien. Yet it took one controversial bonus chapter for people to decenter Elain in her own story, that is make her choice of romantic partner--which SJM spent 3+ books setting up--Azriel's. It took one bonus chapter that soo many readers are still unaware of, to brush Elain off as a "sexual object" Az is using to distract himself until his therapist-extraordinaire Gwyn comes in and heals him all up. Because ofc she will: she's badass and not the "passive and weak and boring" Eplain (aka "Plant" or "brain dead gardener"), she fits the YA archetype of the spunky warrior-girl so she can handle his darkness, and SJM supposedly spent time fleshing her out because she wrote her as a LI for Azriel; she's made for him, she is what he needs to grow (I actually enjoyed Gwyn's character btw, just pointing out how silly it all sounds). “Next book is a love triangle between Elain/Az/Gwyn” “Elain will turn evil or is secretly evil”. So you're telling me that SJM would pit Elain & Gwyn against each other in a love triangle over a man... all because of a necklace that was not even mentioned once in the actual books? Please, let's be logical for a second.

All this because instead of reading the bonus chapter in the context of the books, some people are reading the books in the context of the bonus chapter. Which now that I think of it is probably why so many people mischaracterize Az the way they do--because yes we know enough of his character to know half of the stuff the fandom diagnoses him with is questionable. Azriel? Entitled incel x fuckboy hybrid (gotta be the first of his kind, minute slay ig)? Interesting tell me more. No joke I saw a semi-popular post on here where a gwynriel said they read the bonus WITHOUT HAVING READ ANY OF THE BOOKS. I'm sorry, ship wars are silly and believe it or not idc who ppl ship, but it makes it hard to take some of the things they say seriously.

All this to say that the fandom isn't even debating the right thing. If you consider everything SJM has said in her interviews:

(she's been planting seeds for Nesta & Elain's book since acomaf; she knows who she is writing the first 2 books about + is keeping things open for the 3rd one--with 5 different ship options--which automatically rules out "Elain will close the series"; she said she's doing research for Elain's book in the ACOFAS bonus & there's seeds for future bookS in acofas; all she said recently about her beloved *heroines* and the themes of fate/true love/choice she finds *very* interesting & wants to discuss)

and if you also consider all she's written in the actual books (elain's characterization + the overarching plot in general & how she fits into it), then it's pretty evident that Elain's book is next.

The question then would be who is the MMC / 2nd PoV in her book, aka would acotar 5 be an elucien or an elriel story? Because logically, gwynriel was always a consequence of elucien. I honestly do not understand how people don't see that.

Oh and they always think they're gagging elriels with the "obviously Azriel is the next MC" as if elriels aren't saying the same thing? And we're the ones twisting info and not making sense. It's just funny at this point.

---sidenote: I realize that this post generalizes some things, and I just wanted to say that I have interacted with lovely eluciens / people on either side of this headache of a ship war. My hard limit is Elain haters though... back off I say 🤺 BACK OFF 🤺

---sidenote 2: I would have written this as a reblog except im not entirely sure how tumblr works and I get no visibility from them rip.