#this is just searching for reasons to 'criticize' him at this point

[get-more-bald]

the biggest thing about X6 is not that he doesn't think of himself as human (though he doesn't, and according to some it's correct) BUT that he doesn't see himself as a Person

[satoruxx]

pairing: toji fushiguro x reader | 1.6k words summary: boyfriend!toji headcanons, fluff, soft!toji, grumpy x sunshine, he’s a simp but he’ll never admit it !! rheya's note: grumpy man being soft for the person he really loves? i’m here for it. mamaguro is literal proof that he can and will love !!

bf!toji who is silent with his care for you. he's not one to be open or dramatic about his feelings, but you bet he'll show them in actions. small, mundane things that could only be picked out under critical eyes—like quietly placing an extra mug of coffee next to you as you work, or being the one to walk closest to the street, fingers firmly clasped around your palm. if you point it out he'll just grunt, shaking his head with a quiet "keep walking" all while pretending to ignore your silly little grin.

bf!toji who isn't really the type to be big on words of affirmation, but huge on physical touch. you tell him you did well on a project at school or work and he just hums, giving you a little nod. he doesn't say anything else—doesn't really have to because the soft lingering pat on your head is enough to tell you that he's proud.

bf!toji who is an aggressive yet affectionate lover. if you're doing something and he's not receiving your attention he will come up behind you and put you in a headlock. he thinks it's an appropriate response considering how much he craves your attention and company—why on earth are you focused on something that isn't him anyway? so be prepared to have his heavy bicep playfully curling around your throat or slinging you over his shoulders at random times—it's his way of telling you he misses you. and if anything, he'll do it to hear you whine and attempt to shove him off.

bf!toji who will absolutely take your phone and change your lockscreen to pictures of him. every so often, you'll turn your phone on and see an entirely different picture—sometimes a picture of him at the gym, other times a picture of him blocking out his face—but it's always him.

bf!toji whose own lockscreen is always something that's related to you. he's sneaky with it, always stealing pictures of you when you're not looking. he's got a separate album with them—probably hidden behind a password because it's something only he should be allowed to see. but whether it's a snapshot of his hand intertwined with yours or a blurry image of you fast asleep in his bed, it's always you. because of course you’re the first thing he should be able to see when he turns his phone on.

bf!toji who, as cliché as it sounds, is exactly the type to go feral if someone's made you upset. and he's freakishly observant, noticing even a slight pinch of your nose or wobble in your lips—he's caught them all. whether you're just down or outright sobbing, he's there, standing in front of you with pure anger weighing heavy on his brows. and yet for all his rage he's nothing but gentle as he firmly takes your face in his calloused hands, muttering a strained "what the fuck happened?" as he forces you to make eye contact with him. his own eyes will dart over your features, searching for discomfort or any other emotion as you explain, barely holding back his own emotions because there's no reason on the fucking planet that you should be upset at all.

bf!toji who rarely says the words "i love you" not because he doesn't but because the words themselves don't hold all that much meaning to him. no he'd rather spend his time proving it to you than just saying it for the sake of saying it. but, sometimes if you pretend to be asleep long enough, you'll catch him quietly whisper the words into your hair, almost like he doesn't want anyone to hear it. don't even bother trying to call him out for it—he'll deny deny deny.

bf!toji whose eyes flutter when he lets you trace over his scars. not just the one cutting over his lips but the ones that litter his back and torso—battle remnants that he doesn't remember much of. he's always hated the look of them, indifferent to old memories of a much more chaotic time in his life. but when your gentle fingers graze over the raised skin he'll sigh, oddly quiet but yet so comfortable.

bf!toji who will drop everything if you need him. don't ever hesitate to ask him for things because you're scared of being a burden—he will yell at you (affectionately). you drank too much with your friends and can't get a ride? call him and he'll pick you up even if it's 4 am. you're feeling nervous about walking home from the convenience store even though it's only ten minutes away from home? stay put and he'll come get you so that you can walk back together. shut up about all that "it's an inconvenience for you" bullshit—he'll do it and that's that.

bf!toji who asks if you've eaten today, and when you answer with a sheepish smile he'll click his tongue, crossing his bulky arms over his chest and giving you a pointed glare. then he'll say "get your ass to the kitchen. c'mon, up." while hoisting you to your feet—most of the time he'll just pick you up and plop you on the counter himself.

bf!toji who wordlessly makes you something to eat, whether it's a quick snack put together with leftovers or an actual full meal. then he'll stand in front of you with the plate and demand you eat. even a slight word of protest and he's scowling, already holding up a spoonful while grumbling a low "don't wanna hear it. open up, kid."

bf!toji who hates when you fall asleep on the couch waiting for him to get home. his job doesn't allow for the comfort of a strict schedule, and he's told you this many times. but you're nothing if not stubborn, and he can only sigh heavily as he sees you dozing against the armrest when he pushes the door open late at night. he'll click his tongue quietly, hooking both arms under your back and knees to cradle you against his chest before walking to the bedroom. though some part of him is pleased, knowing that you seem to care about him enough to make sure he's coming home every night.

bf!toji who glares at anyone who even breathes in your direction the wrong way. some guy eyeing you while you're walking on the street? toji looks like he's ready to rip his head off. some "friend" of yours asking too many questions about why you're dating a man like him? well…if looks could kill.

bf!toji who pulls you into his lap when he kisses you, because he likes the way you fit into his space so perfectly. he won't ever admit how it makes him swoon when you giggle against his lips, instead choosing to tighten his grip on your hips and pull you closer to his chest.

bf!toji who enjoys watching you sit on the kitchen counter and swing your legs back and forth—finding it so unbelievably endearing that he ends up just standing in between your legs and burying his face into your neck. his lips will map chaste kisses across your skin, and he'll hide a wry smile as your quiet giggles wash over him.

bf!toji who will notice when you eye something at a store, whether it's a pretty piece of jewelry or a new sweater or whatever—he keeps note. and then weeks later, once you've forgotten all about it, he'll come home and drop a bag into your lap before shoving his hands into his pockets. when you open it and start gushing about how much you wanted it and how pleased you are, he'll huff and turn away, muttering a low "whatever, kid. 's not a big deal."

bf!toji who sees you upset about something, and loops his bicep around your neck and tucks you under his chin. to an outsider it doesn't look like the most comforting form of a hug, but it's toji, and he's secure and he's safe and he's all the comfort you need—a tight squeeze that grounds you in a way that you can't quite describe.

bf!toji who will never admit how interested he is in your gossip. his ideal way to destress after he comes home is to sit on the couch with you in his lap, your arms looped around his waist as you press yourself against his torso and tuck your head under his chin. and even though his eyes are trained on the tv, he has no clue what's going on—he's more focused on the drama you're spilling or whoever you're ranting about. and he makes it known too, occasionally asking "then what happened, baby?" and adding in a few sounds of disbelief. by the end of your rant, he'll be saying something along the lines of "what a fucking bitch," or "honestly he deserved that," and then asks for updates on the situation over the next few days.

bf!toji who silently watches you trace your fingers over the lines on his palms. you're blabbering about something, tucked against his chest as his other arm remains wrapped around you securely, but he's just focused on your hands. it scares him a little bit—the difference between you and him. his palms are calloused, rough with battle and death, while yours are soft, clean of the horrors he's determined to keep away from you. and a small part of him tells him he shouldn't taint you with all his faults, that you deserve someone more capable of loving than he is. but then he feels you brush your lips over his scarred fingers and he sucks in a breath, tightening his grip imperceptibly. even as he hides a half smile against your brow, he knows he isn't going anywhere.

[yuikomorii]

I got a question but I need an objective answer please. So I saw a lot of people complain about Yui being written in a very bad way in Ayato’s routes starting with More Blood and was curious if you think that she became a bad girlfriend as the story progressed?

// I will analyze Yui’s versions from Ayato’s routes and provide an answer at the end of this post.

More Blood:

Even from the first two chapters we are aware of the fact that Yui got a big crush on Ayato merely because of his looks and pleasure he gave her. At first sight, these reasons seem very superficial, but at the same time you can’t blame her completely for that. Yui went to a normal school and used to read magazines for teens, therefore it’s obvious she would have hormones and fall in love with someone who got features portrayed as the beauty standard.

It's understandable why some found her annoying, as she repeatedly cried for Ayato's love without making any real effort to earn it. Apart from giving him her blood, she didn't try to understand what he was going through, even when she noticed changes in him that made him crave so much blood.

Nevertheless, I believe that she did redeem herself in the last chapters, where she admitted being selfish and only thinking about her own desires, instead of focusing on Ayato’s struggles too. I know she paralyzed him out of jealousy and cheated on him in the bad endings, but in the good one, she’s actually a really loyal person. Yui waited years for Ayato to wake up from the coma and Ayato searched for Yui for years in his dream until he finally woke up. This ending confirmed the genuineness of their love.

In the After Story, Ayato planned to attend university for Yui's sake, aiming to get a job and buy a house. Yui helped Ayato with his studies and praised his skills. Initially, she fell for his looks, but in the After Story, she mentioned falling in love with him again because of his caring, determined, and hardworking personality.

Vandead Carnival & Lunatic Parade:

I really liked Yui in both of Ayato's routes and honestly, I can't find anything to criticize about her behavior.

It's not that Yui was a bad partner; it's just that Ayato was portrayed as too good, such as when he ran through flames for her or protected her from a bomb explosion. But that's likely because these are fan service games, where the love interests are designed to be your knights in shining armor. xD

Dark Fate:

I absolutely loved Yui’s portrayal in that route. It was the sweetest version of Yui I’ve ever seen, and I really enjoyed seeing her so happy and soft. Regarding her relationship with Ayato, he was truly the apple of her eye, lol.

The only problematic thing she did was pushing Ayato to face his abuser, Cordelia, even though he didn’t want to. I honestly don’t care if a character does something to another character, as long as it doesn’t affect them and the story, so since Ayato didn’t get mad at her for that, I didn’t mind it much either. However, from an objective point of view, I agree that doing such a thing is quite bad. Being in the presence of someone who ruined your life can trigger intense memories and forcing a confrontation removes the victim's agency in deciding how to cope with their trauma. Ayato might not have been mad at Yui for planning that, but if it had been Laito, I’m sure he would have shown why Yui was in the wrong.

Other than that, she was a kind and supportive girlfriend throughout the whole route, clearly having no ill intent, and I appreciate that she had an actual important role in the route.

Lost Eden:

Ok, I really can’t defend her anymore there. She literally had no redeeming qualities, no matter how many times she got the chance to fix herself. I discussed my thoughts about LE Yui in this post, but I’ll sum it up.

She tried to convince Ayato that despite Cordelia abusing him, she actually did it because she “cared about his future”, and then acted surprised when Ayato started feeling uncomfortable because of her words.

Yui knew the reasons behind Ayato’s behavior, yet when his brothers started mocking him, she didn’t even try to defend him. Everyone ganged up on Ayato, and he was on the verge of a panic attack, yet she remained silent.

Another terrible scene was in one of the last chapters, when Ruki admitted to turning the Vibora Clan and Church organization against Ayato out of envy, aiming to kill him. Instead of criticizing Ruki’s actions, Yui justified them and spoke ill of Ayato behind his back. I wouldn’t like to date someone who claims to love me but keeps hurting me without learning anything… It felt as if Ayato only continued being together with her because he had no one else. No wonder he didn’t marry her there.

Chaos Lineage:

I found Yui quite boring in CL in general, but she started off as determined and sweet in his route, so I liked that.

For most of the route, Yui’s entire personality seemed to revolve around Ayato, and she didn’t do much. There were many cheesy moments between them that made me cringe. Still, I’m sure a certain audience enjoyed those.

My only complaint is that when his brothers started treating Ayato unfairly, despite the fact that he came up with the idea of breaking the glass floor of the church, Yui did nothing to defend him, again.

However, I do appreciate that she gave him that adorable monologue. I just wish she had done it in front of others instead of only acting when Ayato was already insecure and sad.

Now… let’s see what kind of girlfriend Yui was in each route by judging her progress:

MB: Good

VC: Good

DF: Very good

LP: Good

LE: Very bad

CL: Decent

[clockwork-krow]

I've been thinking a lot about Kai and Morro again, and specifically their parallels (dangerous thing, I know) and I just really wanted to ramble about what I've taken to calling the inferno of destiny parallel.

As a beginner ninja, both Morro and Kai dealt with arrogance, recklessness, and anger. We see this in how Morro took extremely dangerous risks to get Wu to save him, with how he assumed he was to be the green ninja when Wu told him he believed Morro was to wear green, and how Morro reacted when the weapons didn't react to him (ripping off the sliding door). We see this in how younger Kai jumps into situations without a genuine plan, how he gets angry and often (literally) explodes with fire when something frustrates him, and how he kind of defaults to the coolest person on the team/the hot one/the center of attention/etc when that's just really the immature persona he's thrown up to try and be the best.

Both Morro and Kai want to be the best at what they can do, and when they heard about a chance to be even better than their original concepts of the best (becoming the Green Ninja), both of them jumped at it.

Morro trained so hard he ended up hurting the kids he was training against and worrying Wu

Kai tried so hard to be the green ninja he ended up placing unnecessary strain on his relationships and even went so far as to risk letting people get hurt/die because he was prioritizing what he thought might get him closer to being the Green Ninja (a competitive line of thinking that Kai's been known to buy into in addition to his constant needs to try to be the best in the situation before he matures) (btw I'm talking about him originally trying to get the fang blade instead of. yknow. the CHILD about to burn lol.)

So, where do we see the shift from heroic to villanous in these two suspiciously similar characters? Well, it's when both of them are placed in an inferno scenario where they have to choose between pursuing their perceived destiny and their true destiny; hence, the inferno of destiny parallel.

Morro

When Morro searches so long to try and find a way to become the Legendary Green Ninja and rewrite destiny, he eventually finds himself in the Caves of Despair. We don't have the details of what happened, but we see the ninja try to escape Morro's fate in season 5 episode 7 titled "The Crooked Path". Here we see them encounter geysers that are releasing poisonous gases at an alarming rate, and they also spray boiling water/steam out in addition to rising the temperature to an unbearable level in the cave. It's reasonable to assume that Morro experienced a cave-in due to the caves' lack of structural integrity (also experienced by the ninja)* and then was killed either from burns from the hot steam and/or due to inhaling too much of the dangerous gasses.

The point of Morro's inferno: Morro couldn't accept the fact that he was not destined to be the Green Ninja, so he wasn't willing to turn away from his perceived destiny to save his own life. He wouldn't leave the cave because he couldn't let go of the fact that his perceived destiny wasn't his true destiny.

Kai

When Kai trains and practices to become the Green Ninja, making rash decisions (like jumping down for the Fang Blade again) and reckless choices that hurt his relationships (like barricading himself into a room to fight Garmadon for… literally no reason other than his desire to be the Green Ninja), he eventually finds himself in a similar inferno: The Fire Temple. An ancient temple constructed inside a volcano that once held the Sword of Fire, this is where the fourth and final Fang Blade is located and where the ninja must fight against Pythor and the other Serpentine generals for it. The volcano begins to erupt and collapse in on itself, and Kai ends up with a choice: save young Lloyd from his inevitable death in the erupting volcano, or try to reach the Fang Blade before it ends up in the hands of Pythor. This is the critical moment* for Kai, as he has to choose between his percieved destiny (becoming the Green Ninja and getting the Fang Blade) or his true destiny (protecting Lloyd in the hopes of saving both of their lives). In the end, he chooses to give up the thing he'd been working towards for most likely months now to try and be the best in the favor of saving a kid that used to be a massive pain in the ass (no offense, little Lloyd).

The point of Kai's inferno: Kai gave up his perceived destiny in the end, and only then was he able to unlock his True Potential in addition to being able to escape the Fire Temple safely with Lloyd and himself still alive. He was able to save himself and Lloyd because he gave up something that had felt like such a core part of his being, that he believed was his destiny, even though it turned out not to be.

He even says this himself to Sensei Wu: "I knew when I had to make a choice. I wanted the Fangblade so badly, to prove I was good enough to become the Green Ninja. But then I figured it out. All of my training to become the best ninja wasn't in preparation to become the Green Ninja. It was… to protect him." (s1e10, titled "The Green Ninja")

Kai and Morro both experience infernos that threaten their lives and rely on their ability to relinquish their percieved goals in favor of the objectively best choice in the moment. Morro was unable to give up what he truly believed was his destiny, and he ended up dead and sent to the Cursed Realm as a result. Kai was able to give up what he had been working towards for so long, and was able to save his life and Lloyd's life (especially entertaining when you remember that Kai had to give up trying to be the Green Ninja to… save the Green Ninja, lmao)

The critical moment I noted with a * for both Kai and Morro is that this point is the moment where each of them have to decide what's more important to them: what they believe is their destiny, or what would save their life. Morro tried to push through to his "destiny" and became too hurt or sick from the fumes to escape, and eventually died there. Kai gave up his "destiny" and just barely managed to escape with his life and Lloyd's.

So yes, I love the inferno of destiny parallel quite a bit! All three of these characters are very near and dear to my heart and they're rotating in my brain like a rotisserie chicken lmao

[xcherricutie]

➤ Messy

Vegeta x F!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count - 1.5k

Summary - Vegeta is a clean freak with anger issues and pent up emotions, and decides to take it out on you for fun.

Notes: This is my first time posting here. I am from Wattpad, so I don't know tumblr etiquette, apologies.

“Your habits are disgusting and you’re a mess.”

He would follow you around and criticize you for what felt like hours on end. It was enough to drive anyone mad, and he did it to you on purpose. He was a man on a mission, out to make your life as miserable as possible. That’s just how it was, being acquainted with the prince of all saiyans. It didn’t matter if you tried to avoid him, he would find you, and he would let you know of every flaw in your life. Almost as if he took a sick satisfaction in seeing you wallow in your own misery and insecurities. 

“Vegeta, her house is none of your business,” Bulma scolded with a harsh glare, slapping your discarded napkin out of his hand. You hadn’t had the time to clean up your living space before Bulma and Vegeta dropped by, unannounced. You didn’t mind surprise visitors, but Vegeta was an exception. Every single time he came by, which had become noticeably more frequent, you made absolutely sure that he could not find a single reason to complain or nitpick. You were simply thankful Bulma was there to keep her dog on his leash. 

“Sorry for the mess,” you forced through grit teeth with a smile, before your face relaxed as your eyes landed on Bulma. “What brings you here? You’re not one for random visits.” 

“Right, sorry,” Bulma chuckled, brushing some strands of her azure hair behind her ear, glancing over at Vegeta as he tip-toed through the specks of dirt in your carpet. Bulma rolled her eyes at the dramatic saiyan, sighing. “I need you to keep an eye on him. I don’t really trust him to be alone at Capsule Corp., and my mom and dad are out on vacation. I’ve got a big workload on my hands and can’t deal with him right now. I’ll pay you good, I promise.” 

You wanted to say no. You wanted to tell both of them to get out of your house and never come back. Babysitting Vegeta could have perhaps been Bulma’s most unreasonable request for you. He had not been on Earth for long, and yet had antagonized you more than anyone. You rarely even showed your face at Capsule Corp. anymore because of the man. And Bulma was your best friend that you visited nearly daily for years. She knew how much you hated Vegeta. 

And yet, when she pulled the wad of cash out of her pocket, you immediately found yourself agreeing to the impossible task. Bulma’s payments were usually unreasonable amounts, as if the stack of paper zenni she handed to you was less than allowance money for her. It felt wrong to take, but what could you say? You were living independently in the city - you needed any cash you could get. Even if it meant spending a day with the most annoying being in the universe. 

As soon as Bulma had left, it was not long before Vegeta started to act up. He almost acted like a prepubescent boy at times, unable to properly convey his feelings, resorting to anger to vent. You had even made a point to clean up around the house so he wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable, but some of the things he complained about were unreasonable. 

“The geometry of your living space is poorly designed, woman,” Vegeta commented as he stood in the midst of your living room, looking around at the furniture. You rolled your eyes as you vacuumed the carpet, tuning his voice out. 

“Nobody is stopping you from just leaving. You hate all of us, I don’t understand why you continue to torture yourself on this planet,” you muttered, unsure if he heard you over the vacuum. You didn’t care much if he did or not, barely having the energy to speak to or at him. 

“I’m waiting for Kakarot to come back to this miserable planet. But I’m starting to doubt he will,” Vegeta said as he placed his hands on his hips, searching for more things in your house to nitpick about. You had done a pretty good job hiding things for him to complain about. 

“Maybe he’s avoiding you,” you said with a smirk at the idea. You would not blame Goku one bit if he was avoiding the entire Earth because of Vegeta’s presence. Vegeta did not find your comment very funny as his head whipped to your direction, glaring harshly. 

“Then I would track him down and drag him to this miserable planet to humiliate him in front of his loved ones,” Vegeta sneered, lip raised in a slight snarl, as if the mere assumption were the most offensive thing he’d ever heard. 

“Is it really that hard to accept that somebody doesn’t like you and doesn’t want to see you? I really don’t understand you, Vegeta,” you stood up straight as you turned off the vacuum, turning to glare at him. “You antagonize people on purpose, and then get mad when everyone leaves. What do you want from us? Why won’t you just leave?” 

“My business is none of your concern, woman. I suggest you close your mouth and not utter a single sound from now on, unless you really want to see what antagonistic looks like. I could put you through a world of misery with words alone, I haven’t done anything to you yet.” Vegeta’s harsh eyes stared into your soul, as if knowing you weren’t going to listen. He had been here less than a year, and yet knew you would not stand for such nonsense. 

“This is my house! I suggest you shut up if you know what’s good for you, asshole!” You yelled, leaning closer to his face. His warm breath hit your face as he scoffed, looking down at you as if he were so high and mighty. He was barely three inches taller than you.

“I could destroy you, and this house, and this whole planet in a matter of seconds if I wished. Your empty threats mean nothing to me, human.” Vegeta smirked down at you. That was your breaking point as your hand moved on its own. Even Vegeta found himself shocked by your sudden movement as your hand left its mark across his cheek, its shape searing into his cheek. Head turned from the sudden force, Vegeta stared at you with wide eyes, as if to let his brain process the attack on him. You expected him to blow up. You needed to gain control, fast. You would rather your house remained intact by the time Bulma returned. 

“Wh-What’s with the surprised look? Didn’t think a girl could hit you? Bet you’re completely smitten, huh?” Your face lit up like a lightbulb, cheeks burning as you smirked, watching his every muscle movement. You didn’t even mean for the words to escape your lips, but as they did, you knew you were dead. “You want to kiss me so bad, huh, Vegeta?” 

You saw the blush bloom across his cheek, making your hand mark burn ever brighter. That was the first time you had ever seen an emotion other than anger or pride on his face. But the view did not last long, as you suddenly found your vision obscured, his large frame right in your face, his lips connected to yours. This was an unexpected development, to say the least. 

His touch sent lightning through your nerves as his hands uncharacteristically gently slid up your arms, gloved fingers brushing over your cheeks. His kiss was soft, as if to show you everything he had been unable to get across before, many emotions flowing through one small touch. That one small touch, however, began to grow more desperate as Vegeta grabbed your shoulders, firmly pressing his lips to yours. Your scent was intoxicating, and every little jolt of electricity to his nerves sent him spiraling through his pent-up emotions even more. 

It wasn’t until your palms were pressed to his chest, trying to push him off, that he broke from his much-needed kiss. You stared up at Vegeta in surprise, watching many emotions flow through his dark pupils, before he finally came to his senses. You were pushed away, although much softer than you would have expected, his warmth pulling away from you as he left you standing there. He plopped down onto the sofa, sinking into the cushions as he crossed his arms, avoiding meeting your gaze. Your eyes stayed glued to him for a moment longer, before you let out a silent scoff, smiling in amusement. 

Vegeta had not uttered so much as a word after that. No more comments on her habits or appearance, no more jabs at her life and home. He had sat silently at her side, stealing glances at her every once in a while as she read her book in peace. And perhaps it was the cleaner environment, or just something in him beginning to bloom, but you looked much better than when he had shown up. 

And you weren’t sure if it was just the sunlight hitting him at just the right spot, or if he just looked like this when he wasn’t constantly raging, but Vegeta had a different look about him, almost a glow. Perhaps he wasn’t as bad as you had originally thought.

[jessamine-rose]

⋆˚♱ଘ Annular Eclipse ଓ♱˚⋆

A long time ago, I binge-watched The Ancient Magus’ Bride and that decision came back to haunt me in my Church AU…… *evil laugh*

As always, thank you to @diodellet for beta-reading this piece!! And to my dear mutuals, I hope you all suffer enjoy the sinful story of Cartaphilus! Pierro x Angel! Darling ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭

Tw:: yandere, blood, violence, death, suicidal ideation, religious abuse, MDNI

Note:: fictional depictions of religion

♡ 5.7k words under the cut ♡

♡ Among God’s creations, His favorite is granted a special fate. Though all lives end in death, only humanity is blessed with salvation and afterlife. Those who live righteously may thus ascend to Heaven, whereas sinners are condemned to eternal suffering in Hell. There is, however, one exception—a fragment of humanity whose sins may never be forgiven.

♡ Legends speak of Khaenri’ah, the nation of sinners. Once the pride of humankind, its citizens challenged God through their creations in alchemy and technology—and the entire nation was subsequently destroyed in a sea of flames. In the wake of the Cataclysm, pollen from the Tree of Life rained down upon the survivors, afflicting them with their final punishment, immortality.

♡ Since then, Khaenri’ahns have roamed the mortal plane in a perpetual state of living. Denied a place in Heaven and Hell, they are cursed to live forever no matter what harm befalls their body and psyche. Due to their wicked reputation, they must also live in fear of their once-fellow humans, lest they face persecution. For this reason, eternity differs among Khaenri’ahns, with a unique fate reserved for the one who goes by the name of Pierro.

♡ After the Cataclysm, Pierro led a group of survivors to Snezhnaya where they established a new home. For three centuries, it was a peaceful haven hidden from the divine gaze of God and the Church…until it was exposed by a traitor and destroyed with manmade flames. In the ensuing chaos, Pierro was the sole “survivor” in the sense that he managed to escape. The rest were critically wounded, buried alive, and left to suffer for all eternity.

♡ Having lost his second home, Pierro began a search for other Khaenri’ahns, only to be further disillusioned. Many communities had also fallen to ruin, if not from persecution but by their own madness. Others, blinded by dreams of death, had resorted to violence and witchcraft in their fruitless attempts to break the curse. And several individuals had embarked on quests for the Tree of Life, only to disappear far away from their homeland. In two more centuries, Khaenri’ah was reduced to a forgotten myth, and Pierro had lost all hope for his people.

♡ So when he gets into an accident, he sees no point in saving himself. If he were younger, he’d be horrified at the thought of falling off a cliff. At best, he’d end up with more scars albeit another permanent reminder of his tragic fate. As for the worst-case scenario, he’d become paralyzed, trapped below the cliff, doomed to eternity as a living corpse. But now, hanging off the edge by his fingertips, he considers the possibility that his head takes the brunt of the impact. A coma would be the closest thing to a reprieve from his waking hell.

♡ Just as his grip weakens, a hand reaches out and catches his wrist. The action is so sudden, so forceful, that Pierro has no time to think before he is pulled up and his back hits the grass. Above him, eclipsing his view of the sun, is the face of a stranger. A tearful expression. A kind gaze that seems to pierce through his soul.

“Are you hurt? Why didn’t you call for help?! You poor thing, I’m sorry for only seeing you now.”

“I am…” He averts your gaze and instead focuses on the sky. It is the color of twilight—a harmony of blues, oranges, and reds that pale in comparison to the crimson skies of his nightmares. “...fine. Thank you for your kindness.”

♡ Once the shock wears off, Pierro takes a careful look at his savior. You have the appearance of a typical human, roughly the same age as he was when his body stopped aging. Definitely not a Khaenri’ahn, given your lack of cursed marks and star-shaped pupils. Neither are there any religious symbols on your clothing, which is a relief. As for your tears shed on his behalf…he’ll chalk it up to pity.

♡ At your insistence, you treat him to a meal at the nearest inn. When Pierro introduces himself as an ordinary traveler, you make a similar claim and suggest journeying together. It is a tempting offer—the both of you are alone with no destination in mind, and you seem harmless. So against his better judgment, Pierro accepts your proposal.

♡ Over time, he warms up to his new companion. You are kind, competent, a bright presence in his life. Traveling with you is like seeing the world with new eyes—you lead him to bustling cities, picturesque forests, places teeming with life. The only downside is your visits to the Church for prayers and chats with the local priests, but you at least seem to be an open-minded believer. You always tell Pierro that he doesn’t need to follow along but he does so anyway, if only to evade suspicion and admire the religious art with you.

♡ Other than that, you don’t reveal much about yourself. But you aren’t one to pry into Pierro’s past so he gives you the same courtesy. At times, he finds himself looking at you fondly, feeling a spark of physical attraction, dreaming of a happy future with you. But those delusions are always dashed by the fact of your humanity, so he instead resolves to cherish what little time you have left before death claims your soul.

♡ That was his goal until he begins to notice certain…oddities. It’s common for the two of you to share a tent, a room, sometimes even a bed. Neither of you are fazed by it, especially when Pierro’s main concern is concealing his cursed marks with makeup. But a few months into your travels, he makes a quiet realization: In those nights of shared slumber, not once has he fallen asleep without feeling your gaze on him.

♡ At first, he assumes that you merely sleep later and wake up earlier than him. But every time Pierro wakes up in the middle of the night, you immediately sit up and tend to him, acting as energetic as usual. Neither do you appear lethargic after nights when it is difficult to sleep. So he puts it to the test by regularly chatting with you late into the night; you always follow along, not once sounding tired nor in want of sleep. Once, he talks to you all night long and in the morning, while Pierro is plagued with fatigue, you look perfectly awake. And only when he subtly points it out do you yawn and go back to bed.

♡ Other mysteries follow. There is the time the two of you trekked through a barren wasteland and ran out of food. It took you two days to reach civilization and while Pierro was starving, you never complained about hunger. If anything, you still managed to walk and fight off beasts at your usual energy levels. And on the rare chance that Pierro is injured, you are the one who treats his wounds…and they always heal at an unnaturally fast pace.

♡ A year into your travels, he decides to look for answers. One night, he shares a bed with you and feigns sleep. For the next few hours, he just lies there and takes note of your unnatural way of sleeping—no slowed breaths, no involuntary movements, yet the persistent feeling that he is still being watched. Shortly after midnight, he pulls out a dagger from under his pillow and aims it at you.

♡ It was only a test to see if you’d react quickly and reveal your ruse. Which is exactly what you do, eyes fluttering open and your hand catching the dagger before Pierro can stop short of stabbing your chest. The look on your face is calm, utterly devoid of fear, and you make no move to leave the bed. You just stare at him with the same piercing gaze.

“Good morning,” you tell him. “Are you going to explain the sudden wakeup call? I don’t believe this is rooted in any Khaenri’ahn practices.”

At the mention of his homeland, Pierro’s grip on the dagger tightens. “So it appears that my suspicions were not unfounded. Answer me, are you a spy of the Church?”

Your answer is a benevolent smile. A soft light shines from your body as a halo—silver, pierced with nails—appears behind your head, followed by a wispy veil. Luminous wings emerge from your back, caging Pierro in a feathery embrace.

Your hand, marked with a bloodstained scar, wraps around his wrist.

“I’m your guardian angel,” you whisper.

♡ Technically, your statement is untrue. In a calm voice, you explain that Khaenri’ahns can’t be assigned guardian angels due to their immortality. Moreover, most angels harbor contempt for his kind though you are a rare exception, having taken pity on Pierro and chosen to become his unofficial guardian. The last part triggers an offended response—are you mocking him?

♡ As for your true nature, you’re the leader of the Archangels. As an angel of the Third Sphere, you are one of the closest to humanity, a divine messenger with the additional tasks of providing blessings and guiding humans towards the path of righteousness. Only, you’re currently on a ten-year “break;” it just so happened that you noticed Pierro at the start of your sabbatical.

♡ Once he is confident that you won’t smite him in cold blood, he goes to sleep—it’s been a long night and fatigue will only dull his senses. When he wakes up, he can almost believe that last night’s events were a dream…until you loom over him in your true form, wishing him a good morning. After a long conversation, he decides to continue traveling with you. That way, he can keep a close eye on you and gain some useful knowledge.

♡ Thus resumes your journey. In addition to Pierro’s distrust, there are major changes to your dynamic. You still travel in your human guise but you switch to your true form when it’s just the two of you. Since angels don’t need food or sleep to sustain themselves, you stop eating with him unless you’re in public. At night, only one bed is needed and you simply watch over Pierro, wishing him a peaceful slumber. Your gentle gaze is always the last thing he sees each day, though it takes months before he can fall asleep comfortably.

♡ He also learns about your nightly pastimes. As it turns out, while Pierro is asleep, you like to fly around the city to help lost souls. Just small acts of kindness in your human form…and if needed, divine interventions in the Church. It explains why he often wakes up to news about corrupt priests who experienced “visions of an angel” and publicly confessed their sins.

♡ Along your journey, you also stop by the homes of the humans previously assigned to you. At the beginning of each visit, you go to the cemetery and speak to their grave. Afterwards, you bring Pierro to their favorite places and reminisce about their lives. When he asks why you can’t simply see them in Heaven, you give him a sad smile and explain that the deceased reside in a realm beyond the jurisdiction of angels. In a paradise where every soul is purged of sin, what use is there for an angel’s guidance?

♡ You mourn the lives of angels as well. It comes as a shock to Pierro, the idea that even an angel is susceptible to death. To which you explain that many of your divine siblings were killed by demons. And because afterlife does not exist for spiritual beings, both species simply cease to exist once their lives have ended. As for your former brethren, they cut all ties with you after their descent.

♡ Slowly, Pierro grows to trust you again. It helps that you were able to prove yourself a year later by saving him from your own kind. Granted, he could suspect that it was merely an act but the sight of a Principality cowering before you, their cassock staked to the floor by silver nails, is quite convincing. Not to mention your cold gaze overflowing with wrath.

“So tell me. Why exactly did you attack my dear human?”

The room is silent, save for the younger angel’s whimpers. To think that a few minutes ago, Pierro had been sleeping peacefully. Now he stands beside you, blood trickling from a cut under his scarred eye, still gripping his unused sword.

“I…” Despite being a rank above you, his attacker is clearly terrified. “But ______, that man…he is one of the accursed sinners! He—”

“Now, now.” You kneel to their level but all kindness is lost in your tone. More nails appear out of thin air, all pointing towards the angel’s body. “Look me in the eye when I am talking to you.”

♡ In the end, the angel kneels before Pierro and begs for forgiveness. He accepts their apology, but not without harsh words and a swipe of his sword against their face. After they leave, you worriedly turn to Pierro and heal his injuries. Thanks to your powers, all of his wounds close up without a trace. Still, when you take your hand off his face, what he sees in the mirror is not his healed cheek but the cursed marks exclusive to Khaenri’ahns.

*✧･ﾟ

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Despite the nature of the attack, you are the one acting emotional. A tear rolls down your cheek as you trace the cursed side of Pierro’s face.

“You need not apologize on behalf of your brethren,” he mutters. He glances at his right arm, sleeve pulled up to reveal a similar pattern of blue veins and blackened skin. “...or your Heavenly Father. And I believe I’ve told you countless times not to waste your tears on me.”

“Still.” Shaking your head, you look him in the eye. “How can I not cry every time I gaze into your soul? I wish I could save you, put an end to your suffering…but it’s beyond my capability.”

“So why do you still devote yourself to me, ______?”

______. It is the false name you go by in the human realm, spoken by every person who has known you as their guardian angel. As for your true name, it remains a mystery to Pierro.

Still, he’d like to believe that he is the human who knows you best. He knows that you are the First Archangel, one of the oldest beings in existence. He knows that you were opposed to the Cataclysm but powerless in stopping it. He knows that your decade of rest was caused by an accumulation of stress, an endless cycle of giving and saving and sacrificing which will only continue in a few years’ time.

And what then? At the end of your journey, will you still have time for him? Or is he truly cursed to drift aimlessly in eternal solitude?

His half-mask rests on a nearby drawer, a relic from his second home. He picks it up, thumb pressed against a painted gold tear.

“You astound me,” he continues. “You, of all people, know that salvation is forever beyond my grasp. And yet you continue to spare me absolute grace. Anyone else would have deemed me a lost cause.”

“That is because I love you.”

At that, Pierro nearly drops his mask. He turns to you, starry eyes wide with wonder. “Can you kindly repeat that?”

But the moment he sees your face, he realizes his folly.

“I love you,” you tell him, a soft look in your eyes, “as I love all humans.”

Has kindness ever sounded so cruel?

“...I understand.” He puts down his mask, pride shattered. “Such is to be expected from a being for whom the love for humanity is inherent.”

A love which he and his compatriots are no longer beholden to.

“But of course.” At that, your countenance turns reverent. Your wings fold inwards, and you place a bloodstained hand over your chest. “An angel’s purpose is to serve God and to save His creations. Beyond that, there is no other point to our existence.”

Silence. This time, Pierro doesn’t bother to hide his judgment.

“Well, that is our initial reason,” you add, noticing his expression. “After all, what’s not to love when your kind is capable of so many wonderful things? Really, you never fail to surprise us.”

“How so?”

“I’ll confess, many of us angels were once in awe of Khaenri’ah,” you admit. “Think of it: Your people found a way to create life, sorcery, powers that were once exclusive to God. Had I met you during your days as a royal mage, I surely would have been impressed.”

Hard to say. Despite his previous status, Pierro hasn’t practiced Khaenri’ahn sorcery in years. It’s likely that his powers have eroded alongside his spirit.

“Then only a century after the Cataclysm, there was the Angel-Killer who performed miracles using our flesh. As a matter of fact…I made the mistake of assigning his first victim to him.”

Your grief isn’t lost on him. The bed creaks as you take a seat next to Pierro, adjusting the chain of mourning lockets around your waist. It bears mementos of both humans and angels.

“Thirteen angels lost their lives to him, including two of my dearest siblings. Needless to say, we were all relieved when Il Dottore finally died, though I had to be given a century’s worth of rest to recover from grief. Sohreh, Pasithea, Oizys…I still think of them to this day.”

Il Dottore. He is an infamous figure in history, a priest whose sins rivaled those of Khaenri’ah. And yet even he was granted the mercy of death.

 “And there are the humans I was blessed to watch over,” you tell him, eyes shining with tears. “I remember all of their names, their smiles, every achievement they made in their short lives. And I’m sure that there will be more in the future.”

That is the final nail in the coffin.

“You are right.” With that, Pierro leaves the bed. “As such, there is no need for you to dwell on how the world is now. I have no doubt that many souls owe their salvation to you, ______, and anyone would be a fool to dismiss your efforts.”

“...Thank you. It means a lot.”

You don’t let him leave, however. A hand around his wrist is all it takes for Pierro to stop, to yield to your embrace. In the dim room, you are the only source of light, an idol of unparalleled benevolence. Divine, beautiful, yet never within his reach.

“Eight more years,” you tell him. In your eyes, his reflection has never looked more hopeful. “That is the amount of time we have left. And until then, I will never leave your side.”

*✧･ﾟ

♡ The next eight years are content. More travels. Deep conversations. Peaceful nights. Another angelic encounter, in which a subordinate merely reported to you and avoided Pierro’s gaze. At one point, you reveal to him that the Tree of Life is no longer in the human realm, eliminating any hope of breaking the curse. His devastation is softened by your comfort, and he can only imagine the reactions of his compatriots if they knew this truth.

♡ Not that he has anyone to share it with. In the Church of Fontaine, Pierro is surprised to recognize the head priest as a Khaenri’ahn. She is only a descendant and thus spared from the curse—a blessing for Arlecchino, a tragedy for her ancestor who likely mourned the generations between them. After their chat, Pierro leaves without divulging her lineage. It’s enough to know that one of his kind is leading a fulfilling life, though he finds it ironic that a Church ended up in a Khaenri’ahn’s hands.

♡ Other than her, there is the familiar face he spotted in Inazuma. Blond hair, blue eyes with star-shaped pupils, a distinctive half-mask…but before Pierro can approach Dainsleif, you grip his wrist and enable him to see the eagle-winged demon clinging to his former comrade. In a fearful whisper, you explain that she is one of Hell’s strongest demons, the slayer of countless angels. And when she turns in your direction, Pierro feels the weight of her crimson-gold glare. In the end, the two of you walk past them, preventing what could have been a bloody reunion.

♡ As your sabbatical reaches its end, Pierro finds himself making the most of your remaining time together. He smiles at you, holds your hand first, asks you more personal questions. Your travels also end in a surprise destination—a forest near Snezhnaya, concealed with divine mist. Leading the way, you explain that it was a meeting place for you and your closest siblings until they all perished, including the Virtue who created it. And when you turn to Pierro, asking if the area suits him…he accepts the gift with full gratitude.

♡ The last year is spent constructing a humble house in the heart of the forest. On the day of your departure, the two of you enjoy a final meal together. It’s bittersweet with recollections of your travels, though the mood dampens when Pierro asks about your angelic duties. With a sad smile, you tell him that you have a lot of work to do. At some point in your journey, you even laid eyes on a young human and applied for a position as their guardian angel.

♡ At midnight, Pierro goes to bed and you wish him good night for the last time. He only closes his eyes when you disappear, when he no longer feels your gaze on him, when the residual warmth of your embrace has been chilled by the night air. When he wakes up in the morning, you are nowhere to be found.

♡ In the following months, Pierro develops a new routine in the forest. Hunting, foraging, visiting the neighboring cities, admiring the aurora-colored sky, even practicing his Khaenri’ahn sorcery. He doesn’t see you again but there are hints of your visits—a luminous white feather, seeds for fauna exclusive to Mondstadt, a wound that healed overnight. Eventually, he gets used to sleeping in solitude again.

♡ One day, he decides to visit his old home. He knows it is futile to seek out his people; after two centuries, their bodies must’ve fully decayed and mixed with the soil. Still, he might as well see what the Church did with the area…and if he can take revenge on the traitor. So he packs his bags, leaves the forest, and travels to the other side of Snezhnaya.

♡ …There’s nothing left. When he reaches his destination, he finds a glorious city built over the mass grave of his people. Only the cold of eternal winter welcomes him back, but the entire city—the devout Snezhnayans, the stories of the city’s origins, the magnificent church in place of his old house—is unfamiliar. Not even the traitor remains. Perhaps they, too, were given a coffin, forever trapped below layers of ice and concrete.

♡ He gets an answer on his way back to the forest. Near the border of Snezhnaya, Pierro is ambushed by a group of heretics…and when he demands an explanation, their leader holds up a preserved eye, the pupil shaped like a four-pointed star. As their fight continues, Pierro deduces their motives—to achieve immortality using the flesh of Khaenri’ahns. It’s pure mockery to hear those fools refer to his curse as a blessing, but his warnings fall on deaf ears as he is outnumbered.

♡ Just as he is about to lose hope, a bright light shines above him. It’s you, in all of your angelic glory, commanding the heretics to let him go. Most of his attackers fall to their knees, in awe of your divine presence, but their leader interprets it as a sign that Pierro is truly the person they’re after. They swing their sword at him…only for their entire group to be impaled by your nails.

♡ It’s a bloody sight. But once your wrath has subsided, you fly down to Pierro and check his condition. You’re incoherent, healing his wounds with trembling hands, apologizing for your late arrival. He assures you that he is fine, only to be interrupted by a sudden ray of light. But this one is blindingly bright, coming from the sky, the same holy light which shone upon Khaenri’ah during the Cataclysm.

♡ It hits him just then: In harming those humans for his sake, you’d violated one of God’s orders. Yet in the midst of His divine wrath, you muster a false smile and tell Pierro to go home. Then you fly up into the sky, disappearing above the clouds along with the holy light. He does as he is told, but not without killing all of the heretics to ensure that they won’t come after him or more Khaenri’ahns. As for the traitor…he doesn’t bother to ask for their location.

♡ The forest is the same when he returns. The next few hours pass by in a blur—unpacking,  checking the animal traps, cooking dinner, and so on. The whole time, he can’t stop worrying about you. He doesn’t know if God would listen to his prayers but he tries, anyway; it’s not like he can help you in any other way.

♡ He goes to bed early, only to jolt awake when a flash of light illuminates the bedroom. When he rushes to the window, it’s just in time to see a falling star. It shoots through the sky, outshining the auroras, a beautiful sight if not for the fact that it seems to be drawing closer to him. It disappears from his range of vision, followed by a deafening sound and a severe earthquake. Then the world falls silent, returning to its tranquil state.

♡ After a few minutes, Pierro leaves his house to investigate. Seeing how the meteor bypassed the divine barrier of the forest, he doubts it was a natural phenomenon. You once told him that the Fourth Order of angels, the Dominions, are in charge of the celestial bodies—could they have been ordered to destroy his third home?

♡ Thankfully, the destruction is limited to a crater at the edge of the forest. But instead of a meteor, he finds you curled up in pain. Fragments of your halo pierce your body. Your right wing is gone; all that remains of it are clipped feathers and sawed bone. Most prominent are the curved horns jutting from your head, covered in a mix of blood and torn skin. You became a demon.

♡ Your half-conscious cries prompt him into action. Carefully, Pierro carries you to his house and treats your wounds. When he notices your hand on your stomach, he remembers what you said about demons needing food and sleep to survive. So he heats up some soup and feeds it to you; and once your hunger has subsided, he tucks you in bed. In your delirium, you can only muster a single sentence before falling asleep.

“Pierro? I’m sorry…it’s my fault, not yours.”

“Silence. We may talk tomorrow. But tonight, you must rest.”

♡ That night, you sleep for the first time. Pierro watches you all night, checking your pulse every so often. When you wake up, the sun is high above the sky and Pierro has already cooked lunch. You’re more coherent now, able to feed yourself, though you wince in pain every so often. And when Pierro asks about your descent, your expression darkens.

♡ In a shaky voice, you explain that the heretics’ ambush had been a test from God. It was fated to occur at the same time as an important event in Heaven, the decennial meeting between God and the leaders from all Nine Orders. As soon as Pierro’s name was brought up, you were quick to defend him. And when you were informed of the attack, you stormed out of the meeting to save him, fully aware that it would bring about your downfall.

♡ And despite it all, you’re the one apologizing to him—for your late arrival, for the danger he was put through, for the “burden” of taking care of you. At the last part, Pierro finally finds the words to chastise you, to say that you won’t achieve anything by wasting your tears on Heaven.

“I wish you would not think so lowly of me. After all these years, do you truly believe that I would harbor anything but gratitude towards you?”

♡ That shuts you up. For the next few weeks, you meekly accept Pierro’s care—he cooks for you, dresses your wounds, lets you sleep in his bed. There is only one problem: Your body refuses to heal. Blood continues to seep from your wounds, and you’re in a perpetual state of pain. Still, he faithfully tends to you day and night. It’s the least he can do for you.

♡ One day, he leaves the house to pick fruit and comes back to find a dark silhouette in his bedroom window. He rushes inside, armed with a weapon, to find a demon. Only, they’re kneeling by the bed, holding your hands, shedding tears of joy. That is when he notices the bloodstained scars on their hands, their tattered veil, your kind words for them…they, too, are a fallen Archangel.

♡ All peace, however, is dashed when your former subordinate tells Pierro that they are bringing you “home,” in other words Hell. As for the matter of your health, they claim that while your divine punishment is unheard of, they should be able to find a cure…from Il Dottore of all people. And despite your conflicted expression, it’s clear that you are seriously considering their invitation. Only for Pierro to take that choice away from you.

“And what makes you believe that I would allow ______ to leave our home?”

♡ Prior to you, Pierro never would’ve dared to challenge a spiritual being. But now, after all he’s been through, he takes a step forward and tells the demon to leave. It doesn’t take long for their argument to turn physical. But before the demon can smite him, Pierro defends himself with his Khaenri’ahn sorcery. They’re a formidable opponent, however, and the fight continues until he aims a galaxy-like aura at their heart. Quickly, you protect your former subordinate with a shield of rusty nails, only for the element to refract and hit you instead.

♡ Much to everyone’s relief, however, it has a different effect on you. Your feathers take on a black tint and a deep blue iridescence. The same thing happens to your horns. Most importantly, all of your wounds close up, leaving scars identical to Pierro’s cursed marks. And when he rushes to your side, asking if you are all right, you breathily tell him that you feel so much better.

♡ That is what convinces the demon to leave, but not without promising to return once they’ve informed the Devil. With peace restored in your home, the two of you go downstairs for lunch. You still need Pierro to support you, but it’s the first time you’ve managed to walk in your new form. And your appetite is bigger, healthier compared to your previous portions.

♡ After a few days however, the effect wears off. Your body loses its blue luster, your feathers fade to their original color, your pain returns. Once you’ve fully reverted to your original state, Pierro decides to try out his Khaenri’ahn sorcery again. This time, he holds your wrist and carefully channels his power into you…and it produces the same healing effect.

♡ For the sorcery which doomed his nation to save the life of his beloved…the irony leaves him at a loss of words, on the verge of laughing. But it does explain why you landed in Pierro’s home instead of Hell, and why God allowed the two of you to reunite. The knowledge brings a dark smile to his face. You’re at his mercy now, dependent on him for all eternity.

♡ When he faces you, he can tell that you’ve reached the same conclusion. Still, you entertain the thought of moving to Hell—surely, there must be a way for you to live without forcing Pierro to expend his energy on you. That is when he grips your hands, pulls you towards him, and tells you that you aren’t leaving him. If the two of you are truly fated to suffer, then it is only right that he returns all of the love you have given him.

♡ It’s easy to persuade you. After all you’ve experienced, you’re tired so you just nod and lean into his embrace. And in the following days, you slowly adjust to your new life. You help Pierro around the forest. A new bed is built, to fit two people. At night, the two of you engage in your usual bedtime conversations but you’re the one who falls asleep first.

♡ When your former subordinate returns, Pierro stands his ground. With you asleep, he is able to fight them outside and easily subdue them; he even had the wisdom to enhance his weapons with blood from your used bandages. And with his argument that any attempt on his life is equal to risking yours, they have no choice but to accept your situation.

♡ You’re still asleep when he returns to your shared bedroom. Careful not to wake you, he changes out of his bloody clothes and leaves his sword on the table, next to his old mask. Then he takes off his glove and traces your features with his cursed hand. And when you open your eyes, the look he gives you is one of pure hope.

“Pierro? What time is it?” you mumble.

“Far too early,” he replies. “Go back to sleep. I will join you shortly, ______.”

“...All right.” Yawning, you snuggle into the pillow and close your eyes. “Can you wake me up later? I don’t want to oversleep again.”

He smiles, caressing your cheek. “If you wish.”

It doesn’t take long for you to return to the world of dreams. Your sleeping face is truly a wonder to behold—an expression so tranquil, well-rested, vulnerable to his kiss.

“And when you awake, I want you to tell me your true name.”

♡

More Church AU here!! Dottore ๑ Capitano ๑ Arlecchino ๑ Pantalone ๑ Dainsleif

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving characters or dynamics not included in my masterlist.

..…Don’t ask me how Pierro ended up with the highest word count in this AU. All I can say is that it was very cathartic to make him suffer, which is a recurring theme in his fics. If y’all enjoyed his story, do let me know (๑･̑◡･̑๑)

Also, soft launch for the next couple + story!! I’m rlly excited to write for Dainsleif, and just know that he’s in for a lot of surprises <3

Tag a Pierro enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @naraven @euniveve @stickyspeckledlight @harmonysanreads @oofasleep @mistymem0ryy @lazyroseart @teabutmakeitazure

[carto0ncritter]

PLEASE DO NOT HARASS THIS PERSON.

I'm genuinely tired of HB/HH/Vivziepop stans putting words into my mouth.

"You literally hate everything about the show"

Fyi, I didn't hate the premise. I also don't hate: 1) The animation; 2) The voice acting; 3) The potential the show had, and hopefully still has, since it will apparently have at least four seasons.

But ever since HB went from being about the misadventures of assassins in Hell, into a romance drama between two characters who are clearly toxic for each other, that's when I started hating the plot. The third point you made is true, I do hate the plot, and I will continue to do so, unless all this focus on an abusive gay ship (Stolitz) shifts back to what got me and a lot of other people into the show in the first place. And no, I'm not going to stop being vocal about it just because someone else told me to. You're on the internet buddy, learn to accept the fact that not everyone will have the same opinions as you.

And that's really NOT something to get worked up about.

"Just stop watching it if you are this upset about all of this"

Maybe you should stop going into the critical tag if you know that what you're gonna find there will upset you. Just a thought.

And if you've come across my post by searching "blitzo" "moxxie" "millie" or "loona," all you had to do was read the very first sentence I wrote (having to do about my issues with the latest episode) and click off my post because clearly criticism of your beloved show triggers you. And no, I won't stop tagging the characters like this even if I have something negative to say about them. This perfectly explains as to why:

"You hate the main character"

Which one? If you mean Blitzø, then no. I don't hate him. I literally said it in the tags.

But if you mean Stolas, then yeah, I hate him. So what?

"You hate most of the characters in general"

If by most characters you mean Stolas, then yes, I do.

But uh... I don't hate any other character aside from maybe Loona? She's written so inconsistently. There's no real development when it comes to Loona. She acts like a huge bitch and a spoiled brat despite receiving love from her dad for five years straight. She is a grown ass woman who kicked Blitzø in the balls after telling Octavia that Stolas is "trying his best" when he clearly wasn't. She physically abused Blitzø just because he called her out RIGHTFULLY, remind me why she didn't beat the shit out of him again in the latest episode after Blitzø wanted her to overwork herself AND didn't pay her for a month?

Oh and there's also the time Loona cheered for Blitzø, tucked him in and called him dad. Why is she abusive towards him in the very next episode?

That's the inconsistency I'm talking about.

As for the other main characters:

I genuinely relate to Octavia. And I feel sorry for her. Enough said.

I don't care about Millie. It's too little too late for that.

I'm not sure how to feel about Moxxie. Where is his character arc even going? What is his character arc? Learning to stand up for himself for the millionth fucking time?

Stella is a wasted character whose only purpose is making Stolas seem "innocent." I hate what the writers did to her.

Also yes, I dislike Viv for reasons that are 100% valid and available to the public, so I'm not making stuff up.

[drdemonprince]

This is kind of late re: the culture conversation but I feel like I have a kind of weird perspective on this general idea of cultural appropriation re:embodiment. I’m Italian American, and indigenous South American but I was born in the US and when we immigrated to the US my South American ethnic group is so small and my parents were in Japan so long they culturally assimilated and I was raised in the Japanese immigrant community and literally went to Japanese day school.

This tension between who is “allowed” to participate in a culture or identity has always been deeply fraught for me in a way that has kind of bulldozed my understanding of cultural ownership. Not being “ethnically” Japanese has led to many people deciding for me what the appropriateness of my cultural participation is. And being indigenous South American complicates my relationship to standard cultural alignment with latinidad more broadly.

I have a lot of friends who are white USAmericans who are progressive but also deeply concerned about the boundaries between themselves and the cultures they studied in college and the countries they taught English in as migrant workers. I had a conversation with one of my friends who worked in China and he was talking about how he didn’t mind being legally disenfranchised because he was a white American migrant and didn’t feel it was necessary for him to have the same legal rights as Chinese citizens. And I had to point out that he was living in the same disenfranchised conditions as any other immigrant and there was no reason for him to downplay it. I don’t think it’s disingenuous or appropriative for him to have Chinese art in his house or cook Chinese food or participate in Chinese culture. Not because he lived there or had a complicated legal status in the country or somehow crossed some imaginary threshold of true and genuine cultural appreciation but just because culture is what you do its not a given fact of who you are. It’s a seamless part of his life and just because he sought it out doesn’t make it less genuine to me.

I think because of my complicated upbringing I have spent a lot of time with people between cultures, reconnecting, adopting new ones and feel very strongly that if there is no biological tie to culture people can incorporate whatever they want into their lives and it’s a VERY US American perspective to be so self critical and political about it.

And this isn’t to say cultural exploitation doesn’t exist but when it does happen it’s usually underpinned by a capital motivation to sell an idea of a culture and not a weird white guy who got really into Buddhism or a several generations totally removed Italian American incorporating Panettone into their Christmas celebrations. When people cross the line it’s cringe and inauthentic but it rarely goes beyond that.

When I was in college I had a professor who studied my indigenous ethnic group and I took a couple of his classes. Once I brought my grandmother and mom to campus to speak with him in our indigenous language, and my grandmother spoke to him for three hours straight. He was a white man from Michigan but also one of my only connections to my culture, a person to practice and share my language with, to connect with my family. And all because he thought South American indigenous groups were interesting and got a job with Amnesty International to investigate the dictatorship to get down there. He is the kind of man people wag their finger at and he was one of the most important cultural elders I had.

This is a long way to say basically I just really believe we are allowed to make our lives whatever we want and make ourselves whatever we want. The phenomenon of white Americans in search of culture exists for the reasons you listed below and outside of these political discussions about its appropriateness and its moral boundaries there are just people doing and embodying that cultural fluidity and exchange for a million different reasons that aren’t worth litigating. The small town gay kids who move to big cities and hang out in the leather scene, getting into punk or hardcore or goth scenes, even converting to a new religion function under the same mechanism of the kind of cultural immersion that gives you access to the community and membership in the culture that weebs who immigrate to Japan to teach English, or international students coming to America, or inter cultural or inter faith partnerships undergo.

Anyways thanks for listening to my treatise. So to whoever’s reading this take the dance class or the traditional craft class or learn a new language or learn to cook new kinds of food make all different types of friends and make new traditions out of old ones or old traditions out of new perspectives. Culture isn’t a sacred part of who we are it’s a sacred form of the things we do and embody and connect with others through :-) <3

this is an incredible, wise, compassionate message. Thank you so much for sending it. You've said so much here about the problems of tying cultural identity to a race, ethnicity, or blood, or to regard it as static or isolated. And how much the standard racist American conceptions of racial and ethnic identity make structural discussions about disenfranchisement worldwide hard to have. Said so so much far better than I could, thank you!!

[yoonvvs]

deserve someone like you. ( 2017 )

yoonah starts to feel like she doesn’t deserve a spot in stray kids - but hyunjin is quick to reassure her.

takes place in late 2017, during the survival show.

now playing > sweet | cigarettes after s*x

hyunjin couldn’t find yoonah anywhere. he searched all of her usual spots — her and jisung’s usual recording studio, the small dance room she hides in from time to time, chan’s recording studio, and he even peered into mark from got7’s studio to see if the girl was talking to him, but to no avail.

as he walked around the walls of the company, he was starting to get worried. he noticed that yoonah wasn’t acting like the positive and energetic girl she usually was recently - for the past few days, she just had this disconcerting feel around her, in her manners and in her looks. her eye bags were becoming more prominent, much like the other boys, her hair was starting to thin out, and she was getting tired at practice a lot quicker than normal. he knew that all of them were stressed out - but he missed the girl’s sparkle, he missed her smile and her jokes. everyone did - and hyunjin couldn’t stand going another day without yoonah being down. she was able to make the energy positive in her own way, and she just had this charm to her - that would make you instantly feel better, feel like everything will eventually work out.

but he knew, that even sunshine needed rest. the energetic girl who helped people smile, also needed someone to give her a reason to smile. and hyunjin knew, that everyone wasn’t really giving her a reason to smile.

the company were being so harsh on her - giving her criticism left and right, to the point where chan was seething in anger watching them bully the young girl. the media was harassing the girl as well, disliking that she was even being considered to be a stray kid. and even if they wanted a girl - they kept saying they wished JYP chose someone prettier.

but hyunjin couldn’t see how the media completely disregarded yoonah’s beauty, because to him, she was the prettiest girl he knew. he loved her smile, the way her eyes crinkled when she watched the members antics, her nose scrunch when she laughed, and her whines when she was hungry - she would always beg him or chan to get her a snack…but then she ended up never eating it.

hyunjin thought he knew yoonah pretty well, but other times he felt like he didn’t understand her at all.

he was about to give up on searching for her, but his ears perked up when he heard the backtrack of one of their songs for their survival show, YAYAYA. and he knew, it had to be yoonah behind that door, so, without thinking, he slid into the practice room, sighing when he saw yoonah dancing in the middle of the room, visibly tired. he could see her muscles tremor everytime she moved, and he knew the girl was one minute away from collapsing.

he stopped the music without even thinking, and couldn’t help himself from chuckling when yoonah let out a small scream and jump.

“why are you here so late?” yoonah asked, taking her sinking ponytail out and flipping her head to put her hair up again.

“i should be asking you why you are here still. practice ended hours ago.” hyunjin pointed out, smirking when yoonah only rolled her eyes and tried to turn the music back on, letting out a small sigh when hyunjin only blocked her. “you need to take a break. when’s the last time you had water? something to eat?”

the silence was the answer hyunjin needed, yoonah just stood there, her eyes blank and tired - no spark inside them. hyunjin frowned, taking the girls hand in his own, and dragged her back towards the couch.

“you’re going to drink water and eat something,” hyunjin said, holding up a finger when yoonah attempted to protest, “you need to rest, yoonah. water and food isn’t going to kill you.”

“i’ll take the water, but im on a diet.” yoonah said, sighing when hyunjin narrowed his eyes. “i’ve already ate, im fine.” yoonah said - which wasn’t a lie. she had ate dinner after practice ended - but the food didn’t necessarily stick with her.

hyunjin looked over at her like didn’t believe her, but dropped the issue for now. he figured he would take the small wins first, not wanting to have yoonah shut down immediately. he dug in his bag, pulling out his own water bottle and handing it to her, smiling softly when she took and drank it, watching the color slowly return to her face.

“thanks.” yoonah muttered, returning the bottle and leaning back against the couch, bringing her legs to her chest. “were you looking for me?”

“i was worried about you.” hyunjin said, scooting closer to the girl. he couldn’t quite read her, she looked like she was confused, yet relieved at the same time that he was next to her. he couldn’t work out her emotions at the moment, so he kept talking, hoping to get her to open up. “i know everyday is hard, it’s hard for everyone - but i couldn’t imagine the pressure you have right now.”

yoonah nodded, pursing her lips as she thought. she was under a lot of pressure - as everyone else was, but she couldn’t help but feel isolated from the nine other boys. she knew none of them thought of her any different because she was a girl, but knew that none of them could relate to most of her struggles. it was hard being on the team as the only girl - and she couldn’t help but find herself in rabbit hole of questioning why she was the one, out of all of the girl trainees, got chosen to join this team. to experiment this combination. she couldn’t help but feel as if she wasn’t good enough - there was so many other trainees that could have replaced her, who were prettier, who had strong vocals, stronger dance skills - but it was her that was on the survival show.

she couldn’t help but feel like chan made the wrong choice in picking her. she felt like everytime she was made a mistake - she was letting him down. he had so much faith in her, and she felt sick to her stomach thinking that she wasn’t what chan thought she was.

as the silence filled the room, yoonah couldn’t help but to feel herself start to crumble under all of the heavy burdens placed on her heart - she was holding strong for so long, but the combination of sleep deprivation, muscle aches, and anxiety, she knew she couldn’t hold it all in together.

“hyunie…” yoonah started, sighing when she could feel her lip start to quiver, her warning sign that tears were about to fall. hyunjin was quick to react, sitting up and scooting closer to the girl, looking at the girl’s face in such deep concern, it made yoonah regret all of her doubts on if she belonged in the group. regardless, she still knew she needed to ask, “do you think i deserve a spot in this group? and be honest, don’t sugar coat anything.”

hyunjin frowned, cupping the girl’s face in his hands, brushing stray hairs from her face. yoonah could immediately feel butterflies swarm in her stomach, heat starting to rise in her cheeks. she could swear she could hear her heart pounding as hyunjin held her face in his hands - she felt so protected in his hands.

“of course i think you deserve a spot in this group.” hyunjin responded, tears escaping his eyes and he looked at yoonah, the thought that yoonah was putting herself down all alone had hurt hyunjin to no end, he felt so guilty that he didn’t help her, help her realize how important and essential she was to the group, he wished it never got to the point where she felt so isolated.

“you have such amazing talent, yoonah. you can do everything - you’re singing, rapping, dancing, it’s amazing. all the songs you create, their beautiful. they’re art, everything you create and do is so creative and inspiring, watching you dance and be in your element…it’s breathtaking, yoonah.” hyunjin says, sighing when yoonah started crying, hot tears running down her cheeks, pooling at hyunjin’s thumbs. “i know they’re harsh on you, but you need to keep going. they’re going to regret being so critical when they see what you are really made of. you can survive this, yoonah. you can’t give up. you can’t let them tell you where you can and can’t grow, you can’t let them limit you. never let go of that passion you have, yoonah, because i know, you’ll continue to make great things.”

hyunjin wrapped the girl in his arms, letting the girl cry into his chest. “you are such a light to this team, yoonah. we all love you so much - i couldn’t imagine being in this team without you. i don’t think any of us could go on without you.”

and that’s all yoonah needed - she couldn’t imagine leaving all of the members, but did they need her as much as she did? as she listened to hyunjin, she could feel her insecurities fade, she knew hyunjin was being genuine. his worried face, how delicate he was being, and the pain in his voice as he spoke…yoonah had never felt so appreciated before. she thought no one thought much about her creations, she didn’t expect them to.

yoonah slowly rose up from hyunjin’s warm chest, frowning when the smell of roses from his cologne faded, she swore she could have started crying again from seeing the tears on hyunjin’s face, his face red and puffy. as she stared at hyunjin in their silence, she realized how much hyunjin really meant to her - how strong her feelings for him really were.

hyunjin was different. she loved all of her members…but hyunjin always lit a spark in yoonah that she never knew he had. she loved to admire him, watch how he moved, his mannerism, watch how he smiled at her even when he was tired, how he always opened doors for her, always made sure she was comfortable, and he always knew the right things to say. everything about him….yoonah loved.

she cherished all of their late nights they had together - they were all platonic, they were either goofing off in the dance practice room, laying on the ground together and just talking, or sneaking out to get snacks, laughing at anything and everything due to their tiredness. but when it was just them, yoonah always felt a little more, like something else was there. she kept catching herself wanting to get closer to hyunjin, to feel his hand against her own….she wondered how his lips felt, how they tasted. everytime he hugged her…she wished he would never let go. she wished that hyunjin and yoonah would never have to leave their private hangouts, she wished that she could just stand there, feeling the moment forever.

yoonah could see that there was something else on hyunjin’s face, too. he looked memorized, she could see him looking all around her face, analyzing every inch of her, like he would never get to see her again. he looked so innocent, so sweet, like he could never break a thing. she loved how his hair was slightly messed up, how comfortable he looked in his black sweatshirt - he looked cozy. safe. he looked like what yoonah would call home.

“i can’t do this anymore.” hyunjin finally said, breaking the silence. disrupting the haze yoonah was in. before yoonah could ask hyunjin what he meant, he was grabbing her waist, pulling her in closer. he cupped his hands on her cheeks again, and his face was so close to hers that she could feel his breath. it was warm.

“is this okay?” hyunjin asked, searching yoonah’s eyes for any uncertainty, any discomfort. yoonah could only nod, she couldn’t think - this is what she wanted. her heart was pounding, she could hear the blood rushing in her ears as she started at the boy’s lips, impatiently leaning forward and gently placing her lips against his, humming when she could feel them interlock.

it felt perfect - like their lips were the last two pieces to go together for the puzzle, mysterious yet satisfying. it was right, yoonah didn’t doubt a thing as hyunjin kissed her, she could feel the boy trail his hands down her body, sending shivers through her spine. one hand landed on her waist, while another snuck up her back, his warm hand sending excitement through her.

hyunjin’s lips were soft, they were delicate, he kissed her with such gentle passion, like if he was too rough, the whole moment would disappear. she never wanted to let him go, to take her lips away from him, she wanted to study his lips and his kisses forever.

she whined when she could feel the boy start to pull away, her hands jumping to cradle his head. hyunjin only laughed, giving her one last firm kiss, before removing his lips from her. his hands made their way back to her face, holding her cheeks one last time before he stood up.

“you need to go to sleep, miss.” hyunjin spoke, offering a hand towards the girl. yoonah frowned - that was it? that was all that would happen? he kissed her….yet he doesn’t want to stay and talk?

hyunjin could tell that yoonah was starting to escalate things in her head - he saw the way she anxiously bit her lip, her brows furrowing in what seemed like regret.

“i’m happy that we kissed, yoon. i loved it. but it’s two am, and we have practice tomorrow.” hyunjin said, smiling when yoonah widened her eyes. she instantly got up, grabbing her bag and nervously grabbing onto hyunjin’s hand.

“is it okay if i could your hand?” yoonah asked, smiling when the boy nodded. she never felt this way towards anyone in her life - all of the boys and the girls from her school were too boring, they were uninterested in anything yoonah loved, and were too busy with their other friends to really think to listen. hyunjin listened, though. he always listened. he stayed, he talked to her without judging.

he made her feel so lovesick, her brain was all fuzzy, and all she could think about was how his lips felt against hers. how just a minute ago, his hand was resting on her back, sending sparks throughout her body. she couldn’t help but giggle when she looked up at him, admiring his features and his demeanor. everything about him felt unreal, he was perfect in her eyes.

hyunjin only smiled and looked infront of him, too shy to really say anything. their kiss…it was perfect to him. but now what? he really didn’t know. he liked yoonah, he liked her ever since she joined the company, but would it be too dangerous? too risky? love was already a messy game, could they really afford adding it to their plates? hyunjin knew that all of the hardships would be worth it to kiss yoonah again, but the thoughts of all of the what ifs still scared him.

the pair eventually made it back to to the dorms, and hyunjin walked the girl back to her bedroom, giving her a warm hug before she left him.

“thank you, for tonight. you’re words mean a lot to me.” yoonah said, smiling softly when hyunjin nodded. “and…thank you… for, you know.” yoonah whispered, giggling when she could see a faint of pink on hyunjin’s ears.

“of course, yoonie.” hyunjin whispered back softly, leaning down to place one more kiss on her lips. “sleep tight.”

and with that, hyunjin left her, leaving her lovestruck and alone in her bedroom, too much excitement in her to allow herself to calm down.

when she went to sleep, all of her dreams consisted of was of hyunjin, and she just hoped, that one day she would get a chance for him to be hers again, just like he was tonight. it was so sweet, to finally piece together her feels and hyunjin’s feelings together. he was so sweet. she could only hope the sweetness would never fade.

thank you for reading! please consider leaving a heart & reblog, i love to see and read feedback!!!!!

[unicreamuwu]

Some idea for the vinsmokes:

So they all had a childhood friend which they had a crush on and she was always hanging around with sanji

And since sanji left she left too (like a lost princess who they searched for forever)

Then they see her again in the germa kingdom after so many years because she is furious that they are using sanji for their advantages (and she sticks to sanjis side all the time because she also found out just now that he is still alive)

And yes i hope you like the idea! Keep going! :)

Sure. I love these types of things. I kinda got the writing idea from this lovely person @myonepiece who did the same thing as you requested.

Ichiji Vinsmoke

Ichiji has to be the nicest out of the three.

Why? Well, because he treats you with respect and doesn't push you down random steps of stairs. (Niji...)

Sometimes, he would teach her how to fight and many sorts of other techniques to help her defend herself from any sort of harm.

If his brothers teased you, he would defend you.

One day, you accidentally saw him and his brothers beating up their other brother, Sanji.

You were so shocked that your friend was actually doing this.

He told you that he had a great relationship with all of his younger brothers.

Of course, this made you angry, but for now, you didn't confront him about it.

Instead, you went to Sanji and told him to explain everything that's been going on.

When he did, you made the decision that he should run away.

However, what you didn't expect is that he wanted to run away with you.

His reasoning is that you were basically one of the few people to actually care about him and his well-being.

At first, you were a bit hesitant because you didn't want to leave Ichiji, but you learned the dark truth about him abusing his own brother.

So, you ran away with Sanji.

And it was not a good moment for Ichiji.

When he came back, he saw you gone at the spot where he would always tell you to wait.

He searched for you everywhere in the castle and the kingdom.

It was then that he noticed that you were gone.

Ever since then, he has pretty much been isolated from almost everyone around him.

After many years, Ichiji heard about the news of you returning from his sister, Reiju.

When he sees you for the first time in a long time, the first thing that happened before he tried to interact with you is a hand colliding with his.

He was slightly taken aback, but he narrowed his eyes to see Sanji standing in front of you.

"Stay away from my wife."

He tells him coldly.

Then, Sanji took you away from him and brings you somewhere.

Ichiji was a bit shaking in anger as he watches the two of them leave.

He WAS going to get you back away from that failure.

Niji Vinsmoke

Even though you were Niji's first friend, he treats you like shit.

If you ask, "Oh, well, he can't be THAT bad to us!", um, yes, he will.

When you wear something, he would make at least one critical comment about your appearance.

If you bring him some food, he would say that it tastes disgusting and throws them at you before he requested you to bring him some chocolate.

Of course, he will take any chances to push you down the stairs cause that's his habit.

There will be a VERY few moments when he's nice to you.

For example, he would give you some of his chocolate, so be thankful that he's being very nice to you.

However, what he didn't know is your crush on Sanji.

For you, you kinda hated Niji when you were around him.

He's nothing, but a bully to you.

So, when you met Sanji for the very first time as you were walking around the castle, he was nothing like your "friend".

The two of you would spend time together almost all the time whenever Niji goes out to train or do some other things with his brothers.

On the day Sanji decided to escape, he took you with him.

When Niji found out, he was not happy about it.

Ever since your disappearance, his attitude turned worse.

It was at the point where he started to physically abuse the servants.

The news of you coming back to Germa made him stop doing whatever he was doing and quickly ran to the spot you were currently standing at.

However, he notices you pushing him away which made him slightly shocked.

"Stay away from me! I don't want anything to do with you anymore!"

With that, you walked away from him.

Niji was livid.

Not because you pushed him away.

It's because of the engagement ring on your ring finger that is given by his useless brother.

Yonji Vinsmoke

Just like Niji, Yonji does tease you a lot.

After he does his daily training, he would get terrible damage to his body because he's basically a robot.

So, he would make you patch him up.

If you ask him if you could help him with training, he would just laugh at your face, saying that women can't fight.

Whenever you come over, he would request you to bring at least some food only for him because your family owns a bakery.

What he didn't know is that you also bring food, that is for him, for his brother, Sanji.

Sanji would always appreciate the treats you give him and it makes him smile.

So, when he asked you to run away with him, you accepted.

However, Yonji wasn't pleased at all when he heard the news.

From then on, he tried to move on, but he couldn't.

He couldn't stop thinking about you.

When he heard about you coming back to the kingdom, he came to see you with Sanji, holding him by the arm.

As you and Sanji were walking down the halls of the castle, Yonji came over to the two of you.

He started to make snarky remarks to his brother which he was to back off.

Then, he started to make harsh remarks to you because of you leaving him and Sanji defended you.

The words that Sanji said about you now married to him made him shake up with rage.

Yonji tells his brother that he will take you back after he takes his chance to kill him before he walks off, fuming with rage.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Granted, tumblr’s search function may broken but I can’t find a post on your blog centered on Alya’s writing. As a person constantly on the look out for critical examination of Alya’s role in the narrative and the compromises on her principles, relationships and competences made to artificially engineer the episode’s story, I’d be very interested to see your thoughts

I use Alya's writing as an example of a character done dirty all the time, but I don't think I've ever done a sugar post focused on her and I totally should. Before we get into it, I will openly admit that her bad writing bothers me more than Marinette's or Adrien's because she is best girl and we stan her. What can I say, I'm a writer whose best friend is an artist with a diagnosed anxiety disorder. I like characters who are writers and with artsy, anxiety-ridden best friends. They are my people and that gives us a great starting point for this post.

Marinette is the unambiguous main character of the show, so it makes sense to design both her hero partner and her best friend around balancing her out, giving them strengths to fill out the spots where she is weak. It's how you make a strong cast. When Alya is allowed the shine, she fills that balance role wonderfully and I love it! Some of my favorite moments are when Marinette goes on one of her rants and cool-headed Alya drags her back down to Earth:

Marinette: We're gonna stroll over there real cool as if we just happened to be passing by. Alya: Then what? Marinette: Then? I'll invite him out for a fruit smoothie at the end of the photo shoot! Then, we'll get married! Live happily ever after in a beautiful house and have two kids? No, three. And a dog! Maybe a cat? Nah, forget the cat. A hamster! I love hamsters! Alya: Let's just start with just happen to be passing by and see if we can get to that smoothie.

This banter from Stormy Weather is fantastic. It's exactly the type of thing I want to see from these two as it gives Alya a very different flavor of supporting role from Adrien. While Alya and Adrien are both card holding members of the Marinette hype squad, Alya is more of a voice of reason while Adrien is there to validate Marinette and follow her crazy schemes without question.

This brings us to the first issue with Alya's writing: when the plot demands it, they make her a gullible tabloid journalist even though it goes against everything her character should stand for. The reasons I'm comfortable saying this are many. The first one is that Alya is very clearly supposed to be seen as a serious journalist. That's why you get scenes like this one from Feast:

Alya: Now you know back in the day sculptures were painted, right? Most of the paint vanished over time, but tiny microscopic pigments still remain. Thanks to this special app, witness how it originally looked. But here's the big thing. All these works of art have something in common. It's the same symbol! Look, everywhere. It's like some kind of secret society emblem. As if a kind of Order of the Guardians has been watching over the superheroes since the beginning of time!

This scene would not exist if Alya was supposed to be the kind of person who only cared about getting blog hits because this type of content isn't where the money is. But money and clout aren't what Alya cares about. She's just a passionate reporter (or fan girl) who wants to know everything she can and who is having fun sharing her obsession with the world. This is an extremely important aspect of her character because it brings us to reason two that she clearly wasn't meant to be a clout chaser: if she was a tabloid journalist who only cared about hits, then she should have never been given a miraculous.

I could go on a rant her about how poorly Alya's blog is used after she becomes Rena Rouge, but I'll spare you the word count and just say that, as soon as she joined the team, she should have stopped sharing secrets on the blog. It makes sense that a blog would initially fill her need to share the fine details of her obsession, but once she's on the team, the blog should have been replaced by her teammates. She could still have the blog, but it shouldn't have things like the freaking guide to how the miraculous work that we see in the season four episode Gabriel Agreste:

Alya: The Miraculous are magical jewels that give powers to superheroes, like Ladybug's earrings and Cat Noir's ring. But supervillain Shadow Moth also has two Miraculousbrooches in his possession, and they will give him his powers. We can figure out from this that the Miraculous can either make a superhero or a supervillain. It's all riding on who wears it, which is why these jewels can't fall into just anybody's hands.

Alya, you are supposed to be Marinette's sole confidante at this point. Why are you giving the world this information? The writers are doing you dirty, my dear, and I'm so sorry. The best I can do is to promise to never treat you like this in my stuff.

Now, to be fair, there is some nuance to this. Alya is a human being. She's allowed to have flaws, so I can absolutely forgive her for getting caught up in the moment and posting scoops to her blog without thinking (see: Oblivio). That's honestly a great weakness for her character to have as it makes perfect sense for a fan girl to fan girl. At the same time, if you want to have a fan girl character who becomes part of the things she's a fan of, then you usually need to give that character something that will tone them down and make full fan girl mode something other than the standard setting.

Making your fan girl a serious reporter is a great way to do that! It allows you to have that initial bust of fan girl hype that quickly switches into serious get-the-details mode. Without that kind of complexity, Alya would just be another Wayhem and one Wayhem is already one too many.

While I will give Alya some grace on this topic and even call it a good thing for her character, the same cannot be said for her writing because the writers fail to embrace her hype as an in-the-moment weakness and it ruins her character. To put it another way, a lapse in judgement about posting a photo is excusable as a photo is quickly acquired and posted. A lapse in judgement about a full interview with a total rando who is claiming to be Ladybug's best friend is not excusable (see: Volpina). It's a completely different flavor of poor judgement as - at a minimum - it requires Alya to stand there talking to a person for several minutes and never once question what that person is saying. Those are not the behaviors of a good journalist.

Of course, this brings us to the most glaring example of Alya's character assassination: the Lila thing. Almost everything about this arc paints Alya as a terrible friend, which is a massive missed opportunity as Lila is the perfect antagonist for Alya! Who better to take down a liar than a truth seeker? It's such an easy way to give Alya her own mission to focus on, especially if you make Lila more subtle. You don't even need to have Alya believe Marinette without question. Just have her be an investigative journalist who is like, "You know what, this new girl clearly bothers Marinette and I know Marinette can get caught up in her own head, but it doesn't usually last this long. I think something is up, so I'm going to use my skills to see if Lila is telling the truth that way I know if I'm supporting the right person here." Don't have your character claim that she checks her sources and does research if you're going to turn around and have her believe whatever she hears without checking any of it!

Even outside of the Lila thing, I wish we saw more of Alya's research skills! They were such a good thing to give Marinette's best friend as Marinette is great at focusing on a clear task, but research is the kind of thing that would overwhelm her, so it makes perfect sense to make her best friend a researcher as that lets the team have someone to help track down whatever Gabriel is calling himself this week. The writers even understood this to some extent as we saw in Mr. Pigeon 72:

Alya: Marinette, how long have you been working on this? Ladybug: I dunno, six-seven days, maybe ten. Now that we're on spring break, I finally have time to put my whole heart into it! Alya: When was the last time you worked on one of your own designs? Ladybug: I do loads of designing! Look! (pointing to the contraption at her door) I designed a security system so that nobody can enter my room when I'm not in it. And if I put on this hat (puts on modified hat) I hear everything that's going on in here, even when I'm out of the room. Alya: I'm gonna have to break it to you because I'm the only one who can. THIS IS TOTALLY INSANE! Girl, trust your BFF. When I'm researching something obsessively and I can't think of anything else, that's when my mind can get really blocked. You know what you need most right now? A break! Ladybug: No way! No breaks until I find out how to keep Shadow Moth from reakumatizing people!

Remember who ultimately figures out how to keep Shadow Moth from reakumatizing people in this episode? Alya! Because her creative style is all about researching and looking at the evidence. You know, the classic skill set of a reporter?

I really do mean it when I say that the show has a fantastic setup for telling a good story. Alya's character should have been a perfect addition to Marinette's team. My favorite lineup is the line up from season two with Kagami and Luka in non-love-interest bonus roles that I won't get into here since it's a little too deviant from canon to make sense without explanation. Instead, I'll just give you the clear roles they perfectly set up and then squandered for the original miraculous five:

Ladybug: Battlefield commander

Rena Rouge: Big Picture Strategist (basically Marinette excels at reactive thinking/leading during a battle while Alya excels more at proactive thinking/long-term tactics)

Chat Noir: Peacekeeper/Heart/Hype Man

Carapace: Protector/Stop Button (much like Alya and Marinette, Nino and Adrien should have been two sides of the same coin with Adrien being focused on making everyone happy while Nino focuses on keeping everyone safe)

Queen Bee: Wild Card/Chaos Element (I love a good chaos element who is there to suggest the options that won't occur to people who have been raised to follow the rules.)

I'll also point out that this lineup would show that the characters weren't interchangeable and make the two main couples feel more unique and meant for each other. For example, Nino's tendency to encourage others to stay safe would pair terribly with Marinette's need to not get too caught up in her own thoughts. The second Nino second guesses one of her plans she'd fall apart, so she needs Adrien to be her Chat Noir. Similarly, Alya's impulsivity weakness would make her a terrible match for go, go, go Hype Noir! She needs a partner who makes her take two seconds to second guess herself. There was so much potential here you guys! So much potential! It could have been beautiful! Instead, we got canon...

There you go, my broad love letter to Alya. I could keep going, but you didn't request a specific topic, so I'm just going to end it there. Feel free to ask for more, but please do it in another ask as this is already super long and - out of kindness to my followers- I try to avoid essay after essay on the same post unless they really need to be connected.

[buckychristwrites]

About You | Day 1 | j.t.

Pairing: Jamie Tartt x F!Reader

Summary: Your job? Pop culture journalist for The Independent. Your assignment? To write a profile on the cocky footballer that you're publicly feuding with.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Cussing. Enemies to lovers

A/N: I know I just posted the Prologue but here's the first chapter! All of this plus chapter two are posted on my Ao3 :) enjoy!

Masterlist | About You Masterlist | Main Blog

The Nelson Road Stadium was bigger than you had imagined it, though you had never seen it in person before. Walking through the door, you timidly showed security your press pass before asking where you would be able to find either Keely Jones or anyone in charge. The security guard was less than helpful, just pointing haphazardly to the left.  Instead of pressing further, you just decided to walk. Eventually, you’d have to run into someone who knew something, right? 

Your eyes jumped from wall to wall, taking in the pictures and memorabilia that filled them. Pulling out your phone from your pocket, you opened your camera and snapped a picture. Either for the article or just for bragging rights, it could be useful in the future. 

“Hiya,” An uneasy voice said from behind you. Startled, you whirled around to find a vaguely familiar face staring at you, a tiny woman with light hair, big eyes and eyebrows knitted together. “Are you waiting for someone?” It took a second for you to process what she was asking you. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to bring your heart rate down, you shook your head.

“I’m looking for Keeley Jones, or anyone who could be in charge here, really,” You explained before introducing yourself. “I’m from The Independent, and I’m doing the piece on Tartt.” Saying his name and the whole sentence out loud felt like a betrayal to yourself, but you tried to hide your distaste from your demeanor. The woman’s face lit up.

“Perfect timing then,” She said brightly. “I’m Keeley Jones.” Relief filled you. The idea of navigating this place on your own had been very stressful. 

“Thank goodness,” You huffed. A part of you had been worried that everyone would be as lackadaisical as the security guard before. 

“Thank you so much for doing this,” She said as she began to lead you down the hallway. “I think it’s going to be a wonderful opportunity for Richmond, and for Jamie.” Your face contorted slightly at the sound of his name, and you were thankful you were walking behind her so she couldn’t see it. When you didn’t respond, she glanced back at you. “I really think that once you get to know him, you’ll change your mind.”

Ahhh, so she had read your work.

“My articles about him were never meant to be personal,” You said while trying not to sound defensive. Wanting to elaborate further, you searched your brain for any semblance of an explanation, but turned up empty. She nodded in a surprisingly understanding way.

“You weren’t wrong by any stretch,” She admitted, giving you an earnest look. “He’s a piece of work. But he has changed, I promise you.” 

You said nothing. What was there to say? Every person in this club all views Tartt as family. Of course they would be quick to defend him, especially against someone who was very publicly critical of him. 

Not that he needed the defense, of course. Whenever an article of yours about him hit the socials, he was quick to respond on Twitter, and it always led to a very public spat between the two of you. Another reason on the list as to why the public loved the feud you had with a man who you had never met in person.

Keeley led you up a set of stairs and outside a closed door. She gave you a quick smile before tapping her knuckles against it.

“Just wanna let Rebecca know you’re here before letting you meet the team,” She whispered as a voice called from the other side, Come in!

The door swung open and the two of you entered. Your presence was swiftly forgotten as the two of them squealed and embraced. Crossing your arms over your chest, you glanced around the office and pretended to not be eavesdropping on their mini conversation.

“What are you doing here?” Rebecca asked excitedly.

“I set up a profile on Jamie for The Independent! I wanted to be here when the journalist showed up,” She explained, before turning back to you. When Rebecca did the same, she seemed to be studying you. She was taller than you had imagined her to be, wearing a pencil skirt and a sleeveless top. You felt nervous just being in her presence.

 As Keeley introduced the two of you, the platinum blonde’s face seemed to firm at the sound of your name, making you nauseated. The warmth returned to her face just as quickly as it went.

“Pleasure to have you,” She said as she held out a hand. Whether her tone was sincere or not, it was hard to say. Swallowing the anxiety, you took it.

“How long are you coming ‘round for?” Keeley asked. You looked up at the ceiling in thought.

“A week or two, depending.”

“Depending on… what exactly?” Rebecca asked, her grin faltering ever so slightly. The question itself made you want to turn around and run home. You had met a lot of powerful people in your career, but there was something about the way Rebecca held herself that made you more intimidated than you had ever felt before.

“Just depending on how things are going and if I feel like I need more time,” You explained quickly. “I will be at the next two matches.” Keeley broke out into a wide smile.

“That’ll be fun! You can sit in the box with us!” Keeley exclaimed. She tried to be subtle, but you didn’t miss the squeeze Rebecca gave Keeley’s arm at this comment, all while keeping a cool, collected face. You could almost feel the spike in your blood pressure.

“Shall I meet the team?” You asked, averting Rebecca’s eyes while desperately trying to appear as if you didn’t want to cry. 

“Yes! Of course!” Keeley exclaimed. She quickly turned and gave Rebecca a kiss on the cheek before heading towards the door, a slight bounce in her step. “I’ll be back for lunch, Becs!”

“Do let me know if you need anything!” Rebecca called to your receding back. In lieu of a proper response, you gave her a quick smile before closing the door behind you. 

The tension in your body seemed to go away, but you knew it was only temporary. 

Keeley gave you the grand tour of the building. Every bathroom, office, or cleaner’s closet, she knew where it was and she made sure to show you. It hadn’t occurred to you just how big the stadium was on the inside, and it made you all the more grateful for her guidance. 

The changing room was empty when she opened the door and let you venture in. Something about that was relieving to you. You walked along the benches, reading every name over each locker. When you got to Tartt’s name and number, you felt your heart drop into your abdomen. Something about reading his name on the wall and seeing the contents of his locker made this whole thing become suddenly real. And while you stood behind every word you’ve ever written about him, you felt incredibly anxious over how the next week (or two) would go. 

“Where is everyone?” You asked Keeley while trying to pull my eyes away from the placard. 

“Training,” She answered. “We’ll go out in a second.” You nodded, turning to find her beaming at you. Raising a hand, she pointed at one of the doors. “That’s the coach’s office.” You glanced at the closed door, seeing the desks through the window. “And that is the boot room.” You turned your head once more to find her other hand pointed at the room across the way. She took a step towards you, lowering her voice. “Careful going in there. It’s used for more than just dirty boots and washing the kits.” 

You raised an eyebrow at her.

“It’s a sanctuary, so to speak,” She elaborated. “Serious conversations. Therapy sessions. Maybe even a shag, who knows?” Your shock must’ve crossed your face, because she instantly laughed. “I would never, but you can’t be sure.” Her eyes narrowed slightly in thought. “Also Will the kit boy is always in here. It's practically his office.. Seems to hear everything, that one. So be careful of that as well.” Before you had any chance to give a response, she turned and began to move, prompting you to follow.

She led you to the tunnel, and you could feel the anxiety pouring out of you. As you made your way into the sunlight, you squinted as everything slowly came into focus.

If you thought the stadium itself was bigger in person, you weren’t prepared for the field itself. The green was so brilliant when it wasn’t on the other side of a television screen. The seats appeared as if they had just gotten a fresh coat of paint. As Keeley led you towards the coaches, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking around. In the distance, you could see the players running around the field as they practiced plays for the next game. When your eyes caught a flash of the number 9, you turned your gaze to Keeley’s shoes in front of you, wanting to crawl out of your skin.

“G’ morning, gentlemen!” She called as the two of you approached the coaches. A chorus of greetings rang out as Keeley approached the tallest man with black hair and mean eyebrows, who you could only assume was the famous Roy Kent, and gave him a sweet kiss. As soon as she pulled away, his eyes fell on you.

“Who’s this?”

She introduced you, and not unlike Rebecca, the second your name left her mouth, the three of them visibly tensed. It went as quickly as it came, although the tension within yourself was only starting to build. If Keeley had noticed the change in the air, she didn’t voice it.

“This is Roy Kent, Nate Shelley, and Coach Beard,” Keeley introduced. You went around to each of them to shake their hands while she continued on. “She’s here to do the piece on Jamie.” You were already taking a step away from them when all their eyes widened. 

“They- they’re having you do the profile?” Nate asked in a soft, unsure voice. Holding back a sigh, you nodded.

“Is this a fuckin’ joke?” Roy Kent asked, his eyes still on Keeley. Her face fell slightly at his reaction, and it was then that it occurred to you that these reactions were just as hurtful to her, who set the profile, as it was to you.

“Don’t be rude, babe,” She said, shaking her head. “This will be good for both of them.” Coach Beard cleared his throat.

“Only if she-” He nodded his head at you. “-can remain unbiased.” All four sets of eyes fell on you, and you could feel the blood rising in your cheeks. 

“I’m always unbiased,” You said, unable to hide the defensiveness this time. Beard scoffed. 

“Okay.”

Just barely shaking your head, you wanted to walk out right then and there. This whole thing already felt like you were walking around with your tail between your legs, but coming for your journalistic integrity was something you weren’t going to take lightly.

“I’m going to write the truth,” You said simply. “And the truth will be whatever Jamie gives me.” 

Despite what the reader’s would want, you thought to yourself, which would be the continuation of the war between the two of you.

As if on cue, Roy Kent turned towards the players in the field.

“WHISTLE!”

The yell made you jump, but everyone else seemed to be accustomed to it, the players immediately pausing the play and running over. A few confused looks were thrown in your direction, but you took the time to take your notepad out of your pocket to take some notes as the coaches addressed the team. 

Roy Kent yells “whistle” instead of using one. Beautiful weather for practice. Team really responds well to-

“‘Scuse me, Coach?” A familiar Mancunian accent called out. Your pencil froze instantly, but not before a line went across the paper in surprise.

“Yeah, Jamie,” Coach Beard said patiently. Out of your peripheral vision, you saw him point a finger at you.

“Who’s that?”

All eyes fell on you. Despite the warm, late spring heat, your blood ran cold. Keeley, who was now tucked into Roy’s side, cleared her throat before announcing your name. Your eyes fell on every players’ face, watching as their expressions changed from confusion to downright disdain. A few heads turned in the direction of Jamie, who’s jaw had tensed. 

“She’s here to do a piece on Jamie,” Keeley continued, and you had to give her credit for being completely unfazed by the change in mood. “She’ll be here for a week or two, and will be at both of the next matches.” 

Unsure of what else to do, you raised a hand in greeting, trying to muster up a smile. Surprisingly, there were a few muttered greetings, although the overall impression you had was not pleasant. 

“Is this a fuckin’ joke?” 

All eyes turned to Jamie, who had been quiet until this point. He wasn’t looking at you, just staring in disbelief at Keeley and the coaches. Roy raised and dropped his shoulders in response, having said the exact same thing just moments before. Keeley’s head fell slightly to the side.

“Come on, Jamie,” She said, pleadingly. “This’ll be good for you! It’s a chance to show everyone how much you’ve changed!” 

He wasn’t hearing her, however, as he shook his head before storming off back towards the changing room. When he disappeared down the tunnel, all eyes fell on you once more. Keeley broke from Roy to follow Jamie, but you stopped her.

“I should probably handle this,” You said to her quietly. She looked unsure, but still nodded. Taking a deep breath, you turned and made your way back towards the changing room. The coaches didn’t miss a beat as Roy Kent’s voice could be heard echoing throughout the field. 

“Get moving! Fifty laps, let’s go!”

Just before you passed the threshold of the tunnel, all of the team made their way past you, and not a single one went by without giving you either an intense glare or curious stare.

As you made your way into the changing room, you were greeted by something hitting against the wall loudly. Across the room from you was Jamie, and across from him was the laundry bin, which was now tipped onto its side and well away from the spot you had seen it in before. He was wearing a black sports shirt with dark blue sleeves and the word Bantr sported across his torso. His black Nike shorts went above mid thigh, and hugged his muscular thighs just perfectly. When he looked up to find you, he immediately turned away.

“I don’t want to fuckin’ talk to ya, just piss off,” He said, voice laced with venom. Despite his tone, you took a few steps forward.

“I didn’t want to do this either, you know,” You told him. “It’s all for publicity. You have to understand that.” He laughed.

“Wasn’t publicity when you wrote that bullshit about me,” He threw back. “‘If Jamie Tartt behaved in public the way he played on the field, a lot of journalists would be out of a job, including meself.’” There was something surreal about your words being used against you in this moment, but he kept going. “‘This stint on Love Conquers All just proves that some of us should stick to what we know, although for Jamie Tartt, that narrows down to football and being a twat, so maybe he was just trying to explore his options.’” Despite his anger, you had to bite the inside of your cheek.

“So you’re a fan.”

“Hilarious.”

“You have my work memorized,” You pointed out in a vain attempt to break the strain. “Sounds like fan behavior to me.” He shook his head, not amused.

“A proper comedian, you are.” You let out an exasperated sigh.

“I won’t apologize for what I wrote,” You said bluntly. “Just like I don’t expect you to apologize for anything. But I have to be here. And I’m not here to make you look bad. I’m just here to write what I see.” 

Though his jaw was still tense, he seemed to consider this as he stared at the ground. 

“Is that what you’ve always done?” He asked, his head still turned towards the floor with his eyes jumping towards you. “Wrote what you saw?” You nodded slowly. His gaze dropped to the floor again, his hand running through his long hair, which was falling on either side of his forehead. “So all you saw me as was a fuckin’ twat?” 

The easy answer was yes, but it didn’t feel so easy when you were being asked the question now. 

“It’s easy to see things in a person when you don't really know them,” You admitted quietly. “That’s probably why a lot of journalists aren’t very popular.” He nodded, seeming to agree with you. “But maybe you could take this as a chance to prove me wrong.” Suddenly, he raised his head so he was staring straight ahead, still not at you. “Everyone who I’ve met since getting here has shown in one way or another that they don’t approve of what I said. You’ve shown many people that there’s more to you than a cocky arsehole.” Confidently, you took a step forward, and you were pleased when he didn’t react to it. 

“So show me too.” This is what made him finally turn his head towards you. You nodded at him. “And I’ll show everyone else.” 

A nod from Jamie was all you got before he turned on his heel and walked back out to the pitch. Something in you felt relieved over this chat. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as hard as you thought it would.

For the rest of practice, you sat in the stands, taking notes, watching and listening. For the most part, it seemed that your presence had been forgotten, although there was the occasional glance from one of the players or coaches. Keeley had long gone back to work, leaving you in the trenches. 

Afternoon quickly fell into evening. When the players were released to go to the showers, you rose and began to collect your things. A slight whistle came from behind you, and when you turned, you were unexpectedly greeted by Coach Beard. Slowly rising to stand straight, you waited. He seemed to be struggling to find the words to say.

“I don’t have kids,” He started, causing your eyebrows to knit together. “But these players are my sons.” Your face relaxed again, understanding hitting you. He gestured towards the players who were still filling into the tunnel. “Those are my boys. When you come for one of my boys, you come for all of us.” You opened your mouth to speak, but he raised his hand to stop you. “I won’t fault you for what is in the past. I understand you have a job to do, and no one will stop you from doing it. But he’s not the same.” As he said it, he turned in time to see the number 9 disappear into the tunnel. “He’s not the guy you wrote about before.” He turned back to you, a tender smile on his face. “Give him a chance.” 

You weren’t sure if a response beyond a nod was needed, so that was all you gave. He nodded back, as if some unspoken agreement had been come to, and followed after the men. You threw your bag over your shoulder and made your way out. 

When you got to your car, the car park had largely emptied out. As you threw your bag into your passenger side door, you noticed the car a few spaces away from you was occupied. Jamie Tartt continued to sit in his idling vehicle, staring at the wheel. When you climbed into the driver’s side, you looked over to find that he was already returning your gaze.

You hesitantly lifted your hand and gave him a wave. He waved back with an over-enthused smile, before raising the middle finger at you and quickly pulling out of the spot, tires screeching behind him. 

Your hand dropped back to your lap in defeat.

This was going to be the longest week of your life.

And there was no way you were staying for two.

[a-legacy-not-to-be-forgotten]

Why Ceroba and the Feisty Four were right

Not bothering with any fancy opening, it's exactly what it says it is: Ceroba and the Feisty Four were right to call out Starlo.

Now before you crucify me, I love Starlo as a character. But I'm tired of people (not calling out anyone in particular) pretending that he's done absolutely nothing wrong and demonize Ceroba and the Feisty Four for snapping at him (largely Ceroba, but I see the Feisty Four get shat on every now and then). And this is not me calling Starlo a jerk. Typically, calling him a flat-out jerk would mean he did shit on purpose with malicious intent, and I don't think he acted out of spite. Rather, he did all those things because he just didn't think about it in the moment. I understand that, and I can 110% relate to that myself, honestly.

That being said, he did make some legit dick moves over the course of the game. Exhibit A: Having Moray walk around with a snake in their boot and giving them rashes.

IK some of Starlo's more wild fans would probably do anything he says and all that, but put yourself in Moray's shoes (or boots I guess would be more appropriate). If your friend made you walk around with a rubber toy in your footwear that gave you a nasty rash, I think you'd be reasonable at least a bit angry at them.

Exhibit B: The Boulder Droppers

They're literal goddam boulders. That shit could've killed someone. Setting them up at a busy mineshaft is reckless enough as it is but leaving them on after you're done using them just makes things even worse.

Exhibit C: Blaming Clover for everything that happened and shooting them over it.

What am I supposed to say? If you hate Ceroba for what she did to Kanako and Clover, keep in mind that Starlo basically did the same exact thing.

Again, this is not me calling Starlo an asshole overall. Yes, he is a good monster deep down and just made some legit mistakes. But my point is, he does have flaws nonetheless and I can't stand people who ignore them. Like, him accepting what he did was wrong and coming to terms with that is one of the best parts of his character! C'mon guys.

And yes, people treat Ceroba as a horrible friend because she wasn't into it and apparently 'hates that part of Starlo' or whatever. If Ceroba actually hated Starlo's obsession with Western culture, do you think she'd indulge in his ramblings on humans?

...or helped him set up all of those wanted posters for him?

...or helping his family search for him when he 'goes missing' during a neutral run?

*sarcastically* Wooooooow, what a horrible friend...

Yes, I understand Ceroba is a very blunt and sarcastic person, but I think because of that, she ends up coming off as harsher than she means to be. Trust me, I can relate to that.

To call her a heartless bitch is a disservice to her character. She does care deep down, even if she isn't that good at showing it.

And hey, she's a mourning widow and mother, I wouldn't blame her for not being good at showing positive emotions.

As for the Feisty Five, our favorite enby fish puts it best themself:

My point is, despite snapping at him, Ceroba and the Feisty Four did not hate Starlo. They understood that his obsession over Western Culture was really important with him. It's made clear that they know he's a good monster deep down, despite his transgressions and were very ready to forgive him.

They just wanted him to dial it back. And yeah, he needed to. Granted, this is targeted at the 'Starlo did nothing wrong' crowd. If you admit that he's pretty heavily flawed but that Ceroba's done worse, I can accept that. Hell, despite me being a Ceroba apologist, I might even agree with you to a degree. But I am a bit tired of the fandom putting him on a pedestal while overhating everyone who remotely criticizes him.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Cinderella - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

SUMMARY: Nikolai is a party person, you're not. But he's also a fool in love, so when you quietly disappear, he wastes no time finding you.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.5k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

☽ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ☾

Nikolai didn’t notice your sudden disappearance right away. He can’t exactly be blamed for that - he wasn’t given a chance to. With the mob of aristocrats and silk stockings flocking to him without mercy or patience, Nikolai’s attention could only take so much. They all wanted to shake the king’s hand, tell him a witty remark or confess how much they were enjoying the evening. He was, however, disillusioned by their pompous words - throughout years he’s learned to quickly catch on to the kernel of truth covered with layers of exaggerated epithets and sophisticated lexicon.

Only when the nobility and magnates spread out through the castle, taking advantage of the rare goods imported just for the ball, did Nikolai feel like he was forgetting something. He looked around the lavish ballroom in search of you, even just a glimpse of your dress or your hair. Alas, he saw none. Logically, he knew you were not in any kind of danger but lovers rarely are reasonable. There’s this strange itchiness in the back of his head that made his fingertips and feet tingle. In a room full of people, he felt uncomfortably lonely without you next to him; the world felt strangely wrong when you were not around.

He walked through the crowded halls asking about you - Grisha, guests, guards, no one seemed to have seen you recently. Despite the audible uneasiness in his voice, he dismissed any questions regarding your assumed well-being. Truthfully, the inquiries were only slightly misguided. You were probably perfectly fine and it was he who was sick with yearning because of your absence. Not sure what to do or where to continue his search, Nikolai simply marched forward, hoping to miraculously bump into you at some point. After all, what kind of miserable night is it going to be for him if he can’t dance even one time with his beloved queen?

Then, a gust of cold wind tugs at his clothes. His eyes look towards the direction of the night breeze only to discover one of the balcony doors being cracked open. Could it be…?

Nikolai approaches the windowed door with hopeful vigour. His heart stops for a moment, only to resume beating at a feverish pace:

As if unbothered by the grand ball, you’re leaning against the guardrail of the balcony, watching the starry sky. Moonlight washes over your silhouette, painting you more of a creature of dreams rather than reality. Cold wind tugs and waves the hem of your lavender gown but you don’t seem to mind it. To Nikolai, you appear almost inhuman like he just stumbled upon a dryad that got too caught up in looking at the moon and forgot to hide from the human gaze. It must be by the Saints’ mercy that he’s the one to not only admire the nymph but hold her heart as his own.

“You come here often, красивая девица?”

Startled, you turn around to look at the unexpected guest. Upon seeing Nikolai’s face, you sigh and let your shoulders relax - you can discard all of your facades around him without ever hearing a word of criticism. Without thinking about it, your lips curve into a smile.

“Only when I need a moment to breathe,” you answer before turning back to look at the sky again.

Nikolai leans on his arm against the guardrail. His watchful gaze studies the side of your face, his thoughts slipping away to gush about your beauty, while he’s trying to keep his focus on the more important matter that is checking up on you. The longer his eyes trail your features, the more he grows convinced that you are, in fact, a dryad and have put some kind of spell on him that has bound his thoughts to you.

“You worried me, love,” he speaks softly, as though he’s afraid his words might further spoil your mood, “disappearing so suddenly.”

With an apologetic look on your face, you meet his gaze. “I’m sorry. I just…” You look away for a moment, gathering thoughts. “It all became a little too much: the people, the noise. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Nikolai brings your hand to his lips and places a soft kiss on your wedding ring. “I will always worry for you.” The gold jewellery glistens in the pale, silvery moonlight.

 Part of you still finds it hard to believe that a man of his sort is doting on you. Funnily enough, he’s thinking the same - what unimaginable machinations of the universe blessed him with you taking his name?

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you. The noise of people enjoying the evening is distant and muffled like it’s coming from another reality, somewhere far from the microcosm of the balcony. As mentioned before, lovers tend to belong to another species. Nikolai and you are just staring at each other with complete devotion in your eyes, silently exchanging confessions and oaths even death can’t quite break.

The sound of someone walking past the balcony door pulls you back to reality. Although the awakening is not welcome, you find it necessary. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to your guests, мой царь? They came from far away to meet their king.”

“Oh, please, they didn’t come here for me. Why else attend a ball if not to admire the queen?”

“That’s your reason for attending.” Nikolai doesn’t find it in himself to lie and deny the accusation. “Most people just want to dance, talk and have a bit of caviar.”

Jokingly, he puts a hand on his chest. “Are you calling me special?”

You only shake your head and bite your lower lip but it’s not enough to stop the wide smile from spreading across your face. “I never said that.”

Nikolai frowns at your denial but the playful glint in his blue eyes rids his expression of all seriousness. “No, I’m pretty sure I just heard you say ‘Nikolai, you’re the most amazing man I have ever met’. Why, thank you. I must agree.”

His half-serious cockiness makes you laugh out loud. If he didn’t look pathetic before, he surely does now: the king of Ravka, staring at you with a soft smile and a dreamy gloss in his eyes. For a moment, he’s not noble in any way, shape or form. Nikolai is just a man - a man who gladly traded deference for love. Your laughter rings in his ears, his yearning mind hoarding the beautiful sound as though it desperately needs it for survival. Even the efforts of the talented orchestra are drowned out by your happiness as there is no other music he wishes to listen to.

Only when you’ve stopped laughing does he continue the conversation, never daring to interrupt something he adores so much: “Are you feeling better, милая?”

“I will soon.”

The orchestra finished one of the more upbeat pieces and in a true show of their expertise, they smoothly transition to a slow, sombre tune. Because of the distance between the balcony and the grand ballroom, the music is muffled as though the artists are performing their song in a nearly-forgotten dream; as if the soft tune belongs to another realm.

“In the meantime,” he says as he offers you his hand, “may I have this dance?”

You only giggle as you put your palm on top of his. Soon, you’re slowly swaying to the distant melody with his arm protectively wrapped around your waist. It’s not an actual ballroom dance, so you feel no embarrassment in comfortably placing your face against his shoulder. Out there, among lords and magnates, maybe this would be considered too casual but on the balcony, it’s the only way one should dance. The time seems to stop as you and Nikolai rock to the rhythm of the sombre tune. 

After what feels like both seconds and hours, you lift your head off his shoulder. Nikolai’s dreamy stare is following your small movements, never missing as much as a twitch of a muscle. If he could, he’d engrave your face on his eyelids, so he doesn’t have to go more than a few seconds without seeing you.

“As much as I appreciate your concern,” you begin quietly, as though raising your voice might burst this little bubble of careless romance, “you don’t have to run after me anytime I need to get away for a moment.”

Nikolai answers in an equally low voice: “I also don’t have to kiss your beautiful face but I just can’t help myself, you know?”

You’re still giggling when you feel his lips against yours. It’s sweet and tender and absolutely consuming. There’s a certain intensity to this kiss - the passion known only to those obsessed with something, whose intrinsic instincts can’t just casually enjoy the object of their desire. His warm lips feel perfectly moulded for yours as he’s silently pouring the contents of his heart for the world to see.

____

красивая девица [kra-see-va-ya de-vi-tza] -> beautiful girl

мой царь [moy tzar] -> my tsar/king

милая [me-la-ya] -> 1. darling, sweetheart 2. cute

[scorchieart]

Doodles and Dust

Genre: Slice of Life

Characters: Jin Grandet, Sariel Noir

Wordcount: 700

Prompts: In the shadows, Make it...

A/N: My gift for the 2024 Ikemen Exchange over on @flash-exchange for @pathogenic. Despite them having one of my favorite friendships in the game, I don't often write these two together. So I'm very happy I got to work on this for ya, Ollie!

“Cinnamon sticks, old man— You scared the sugarcubes outta me,” Jin heaved, clutching the door with one hand and his chest with the other. It always was a shock running into him unscheduled. Doubly so in a dark attic.

Sariel did not look up from the trunk he rifled through. “If you are looking for your magazines, Prince Yves disposed of them last week,” he said.

“Magazines?” scoffed Jin. “You misunderstand. I am here for the same noble reason as yourself.” 

“How fortuitous that we both elected to use our lunch breaks productively today.” Sariel lifted his head and cobwebs swayed off his hair giving his face a ghoulish glow. “I have this area covered. Please start by searching there.” He pointed to a corner where stacks of dusty bookshelves leaned against one another in ominous invitation.

Jin groaned, masking it with a blazing grin. “You’re looking for a magazine, right?” 

The entirety of Sariel’s annoyance flashed with a single eyebrow twitch. “A notebook. Red. With my handwriting.”

“Embarrassing diary entries from your youth, eh?”

“An accelerated course is necessary to bring Belle up to speed with Rhodolite’s governance,” Sariel explained soberly. “I thought it prudent to reference study plans I developed from Prince Leon’s early tutoring days. Why reinvent the wheel?”

It was just a joke. Jin raised his arms in surrender and waddled over to the shelves, each so full to bursting, grabbing one book might topple the entire configuration.

Where to begin? 

Behind looked most stable. Plus he could hide there and snooze. Hey, this was supposed to be break time.

Jin scooted into the shadows, but something already occupied his napping spot. Carefully, carefully, he pulled out a large, ornate frame.  From first glance it looked like a typical painting of the palace grounds—lush rosebushes clearly recognizable to any Rhodolitian visitor—with seven tiny figures scattered across. Boys. But closer inspection revealed more; the boys were not in fact original subjects of the painting but crudely pasted on, torn edges revealing glimpses of different origins. On top of it all, notable blots of ink were scribbled over the scene, as though someone had once left behind harsh criticisms of the work.

“No way!” Jin exclaimed, “I thought I lost this ages ago!”

“And I thought those pieces were pilfered ages ago,” Sariel called as he joined him.

“You never asked. I never told,” Jin said, studying the collage. Long ago, this attic was his preferred place to practice quill-usage in solitude. He reverently glided his fingers over the markings. A pair of dark gloves covered the twins’ interlocked hands. A wide smile cut across Chevalier’s stoic face. Tears welling in Clavis’s eyes replaced with glittering stars. Even Sariel’s fury melted at the doodles.

To a child, the attic is an escape to worlds beyond imagination. To an adult, it is a prison of memory.

“Someone’s missing,” Sariel commented.

“Well, Luke wasn’t around yet.”

“Yes. But I meant His Majesty.”

Jin inhaled. “He wouldn’t have fit. They don’t make portraits that small for kings,” he said.

“But you left a sizable gap in the middle there.”

“As if I’d remember my muse from that long ago?”

“As well as you remembered to discard your drafts, it seems.” Sariel approached the frame and plucked a loose paper sticking out from the corner. Jin reflexively snatched it from his hands.

“Oh my. Embarrassing doodles from your youth?” Sariel asked with glee.

“Yves just missed a page,” Jin said, stuffing it into his pocket. Sariel decided not to comment on how Jin accidentally revealed his lie. Nor how he spotted the unmistakable drawing of a dark-haired boy with glasses on that paper.

“Goodness, how time flies!” Sariel announced. “I can always create a new study plan—Prince Luke requires one regardless. And speaking of recreating things for Prince Luke…” he mused, one hand stroking his chin. “It would be short notice, but I don’t believe the royal painter would mind. And gathering the princes would be beneficial for Belle to interrogate you all at once.”

The attic was indeed a place to unearth memories. Sometimes it worked well to inspire new ones, too.

Jin beamed. “Fine, but you’re standing next to me. Got it?”

Ever helpful, Rio volunteered to organize the entire event. He swiftly located and invited the royal painter from the farthest edge of the kingdom, booked and gathered the princes in the ballroom (resolving any and all inter-factional scheduling and squabbling conflicts that arose), and gallantly escorted Belle to the venue all with such efficiency, the princes invited him to join in for the painting. Neither Jin nor Sariel protested when he perched himself between them bearing the biggest smile of the bunch.

And that’s my headcanon for the story behind the 1st anniversary group portrait :)

[louisferrignojr]

there's just so much here and i can't find the original post and anyway i don't want to go off at OP so i'm making my own post:

FIRST THINGS FIRST, doctors and medical professional are sworn in by The Hippocratic Oath - this is from an article dated in 2001, and under normal circumstances I'd look for something more recent but for the sake of this post, since Evan Buckley was born in 1992, it'll suffice. (and i'm not going to sit here and examine the limitations and criticisms okay. you can read the article if you're interested.)

the point is no medical professional would approve of a procedure that puts an infant child through immense pain in order to harvest bone marrow and treat another child, no matter how sick that older child would be. i'm not sure why I even need to back up my claims for this because it's just a logical fact that no doctor would inflict pain of that level, even if the parents of said infant brought him to the doctor and said they want to put their child through this procedure. quite frankly, they'd have social services called because doctors are mandatory reporters.

which brings me to the second point: to think that the buckley parents would inflict pain of that level on their infant child is fucking bizarre, or that they would not tend to their fussy baby. there's literally nothing in canon to suggest that buck wasn't taken care of as a baby. even if his parents were emotionally absent and neglectful and let maddie step up to provide the comfort a child needs. i mean. it's a fucking reach.

so how is the procedure done? -> link from the NHS website which very plainly explains stem cells are harvested from the placenta and umbilical cord to treat cancers, immune deficiencies, and genetic disorders.

Baby bred to provide stem cells for sister (2000)

Placental blood as a source of hematopoietic stem cells for transplantation into unrelated recipients (1996)

i can't find anything earlier than 1996 but quite frankly i don't think i have to. that's only 4 years before buck was born. i think it'll suffice.

tl;dr this is the dumbest take i have seen and i think a very quick 5-minute google search disproves OP's "headcanon" so i'm gonna go ahead and take that bet for 0 dollars. there's 0 % chance that happened.

y'all gotta stop coming up with scenarios that put buck through worse things that canon already has because it's giving woobification. because it's not bad enough that his first experience that pain = love was at 5 years old which is very transparently depicted in canon. what the fuck is wrong with y'all.

and i'm not even gonna touch upon the reblogger's tags about how buck is "predisposed" to "subbing" for.. this.. reason.. of all things... because i see bad BDSM takes every day on this godforsaken website anyway.