#with the power of filtering things i don't personally enjoy i have never come across batcest

[dukeofthomas]

Kinda funny how the only times I ever see anything about batcest is when anti-shippers bring it up

[hawksugarbaby]

Shinso x reader - Burning sensation

Fluff

Every morning at 7:00 you would meet shinso outside your dorm to head to school "Hey Hitoshi how ya doin this mornin" you asked sideling up to the boy who you had gotten to know quite well through your walks too and from school, and your time in class, and lunch, and training after school, you were never really away from each other actually. He took comfort in the time you spent together and you enjoyed talking to him and being his friend. It was pretty understandable why he didn't want to be friends, to begin with, but there was no way in hell you were letting the boy go through 3 years of school without any friends! So you made it your own personal mission to change his mind about you, and you were pretty chuffed when he actually stopped pushing you away yep this boat was firmly tied to the dock now. "I'm fine just tired" he was always tired.

The gleaming white windows of your school came into view lighting up the area around it like a child shining a magnifying glass on a bunch of tiny ants swarming to their colony. You nudged his side with your elbow getting his attention "SO I heard someone is getting transferred into the hero course next year!" you were so proud of him! This was his dream come true and he was finally getting his big opportunity "yeah it's pretty crazy" it was true he was more than thrilled to be joining the hero course but he felt like he was betraying you in some way, you should be in there with him! You were just as powerful if not more than he was. It didn't feel right leaving you "I can't believe it Hitoshi! I'm so happy for you, we should go get ice cream later to celebrate!" you walked through the door together weaving through the other people dotted around the corridor to reach your own classroom tucked away at the end . the thought hadn't even crossed your mind about how lonely you would be without Hitoshi, and it was coming up for the end of the year, you would have to cherish your time more than ever. "Ice cream sounds nice."

Th day went on rather uneventfully, thankfully it was lunch now so food was on the top of your mind "what should I get today?" you asked your lavender friend, you were determined to have everything on the menu at least once before you left school, you had quite a few options to go "what about a cappuccino and the udon?" it was pretty lucky he was keeping track of what you had and hadn't got yet otherwise you would never get close to finishing the challenge "you just want my cappuccino huh" you stepped up to the counter and ordered your food and drink which was ready in a flash thanks to lunch rush (give the dude some credit he does lunch for that entire school every day!) "maybe" he gave a lopsided grin and you rolled your eyes.

you both set off for a table near the back where you usually sat when a green-haired boy waving his arm caught your eye "hey Hitoshi is that one of your new classmates" you questioned gesturing to the freckled boy who was frantically trying to get his attention "oh yeah that's midoriya" he brushed off the topic and continued off to your table "hey wait you should go sit with them!" you called after the boy who groaned and span round his purple locks dangled in front of his eyes blocking his view fully but he could tell you weren't gonna let him leave. "but... why?" "because they're your classmates silly come on" you pulled him over to the table much to his dismay "h-hey shinso do you want to sit with us?" midoriya asked and everyone else at the table eyed him up like a flock of vultures inspecting there pray "can (y/n) sit too?" wait no what you weren't in that class why would you sit there? That was like... the top dog table right? "Of course!" oh well oh kay then guess you were one with the big leagues now. "Hi it's nice to meet you, I'm ururaka" she introduced herself with a big grin, you noticed she was holding her juice with 4 fingers and had pink pads in the middle of her fingertips "I'm (l/n) nice to meet you too" you sat down next to Hitoshi excited to make some new friends, maybe if you liked them he would like them more.

"So you and shinso are really good friends huh?" you nodded as you took a sip of your cappuccino and ultimately decided it was one of the less amazing things on the menu "yeah he's like my best friend and I'm pretty much his emotional support dog" you giggled and handed off the warm, bitter drink to him which he was more than happy to take off your hands "in all honesty she should be the one joining your class, daughter of the number 2 hero couldn't cut the hero programme" he teased and everyone else gasped "YOUR DAD IS HAWKS!" yep it was true you were the daughter of the number 2 hero hawks and someone else?? Mum didn't stick around long, your quirk was a little HOT TO HANDLE (roll with it) "what's your quirk! Can you show us!" midoriya begged from across the table which Hitoshi was not happy about he didn't like it when people gave you more attention than he did "um no I definitely cannot show you! But I can tell you what it iss" you sang and the boy grabbed a pencil and notepad out his bag "uh it's called Pheonix I have retractable wings... made of blue fire... and I can fly and shoot the feathers and I have the feather blades like dad and all that jazz" "she also has the same dumb personality" Hitoshi added and you gasped looking at him hurt "don't talk about my dad like that he loves you" he did actually like Hitoshi a surprising amount and you were pretty convinced he shipped you like a 15-year-old girl watching 2 boys in an anime about superheroes (-_-)

"But if your dad is the number 2 hero how come you aren't in the hero course" ouch. You gripped your chopsticks harshly "some bitch thought it would be funny to knock me out during the entrance exam and it was too late to get me in by recommendation" the chopsticks snapped splintering off into a bunch of smaller pieces. The lively nature of the cafe suddenly turned to one of concern when 2 mini puffs of thick smoke filtered out from the back of your blazer blanketing the roof and the smell of burning fabric infiltrated your noses "your burning" Hitoshi said from beside you "OH sorry sorry I didn't notice" you said and started to calm yourself down by stealing Hitoshi's lemonade "you must be upset about having to be in different classes after the new year" the boy with the bird head said. Well yeah but he wouldn't be leaving you completely, you opened your mouth to speak but before you could start Hitoshi started "I don't intend on letting her go half a year alone in that class, either she moves up or I go back down" he grit his teeth at the thought of you being alone in that class by yourself, and if it meant he had to give up his dream of being in the hero course he would. You smiled and then sighed when you realised you couldn't finish your udon since your chopsticks had transformed into toothpicks.

Ah yes, finally the end of the day. You and Hitoshi walked out of the nicely air-conditioned school into the dry blistering heat of the outside world "oh god whyyy" you cried and shook your fist at the sun then immediately regretted it as a bunch of white spots danced around in your eyes (FUN FACT THOSE ARE CALLED PHOSPHENES. Y'know, like phosphor) "so ice cream" you stumbled around trying to your friends and jumped when he put his hands on the back of your shoulders "just keep walking dummy" he said and you did so until you gained your sight back. "It's such a hot day this is evil" you crossed your arms angrily as you made your way to your house since you had decided to get changed before you got ice cream so that the sweltering heat didn't melt you both to a puddle of sweat and ew (THAT'S WHAT I'M GOING WITH OKAY).

"HEY DAD ARE YOU HOME?" you shouted into the house and a little red feather shot down to where you were standing "I'LL TAKE THAT AS A YES THEN" you and shinso wandered up to your room dumping your bags with an audible thud "crop top and jeans?" you asked holding up your clothes and showing them off to Hitoshi "sure why not," he said and pulled out the bag of clothes in the bottom of your wardrobe that you kept there for him. "Vest and shorts?" he held up the clothes and you nodded and he descended down the hall to the bathroom waving to your dad as he went past. It was such a perfect day, it was too good to be overthinking little things like clothes or how lonely you would be without Hitoshi or what he meant when he said when he wasn't leaving you behind or how he really felt about you or- "how's my chicklet?" (hawk's most defining personality trait is that he likes chicken don't @me) your dad asked ruffling your hair "it is too hot to exist right now but Hitoshi and I are gonna get ice cream" you grinned and cracked open your window hoping a breeze would come through and cool you down a smidge. "Like a date?" "No dad it's not a date" "finneee have fun" he pouted and left you alone to get changed.

"Hey, Hitoshi what ice cream do you want?" you asked looking over the menu on the side of the truck that was parked in the park... "it's a vanilla day I think," you stepped up to the counter ordering your ice creams both with a flake obviously and sat on a cool metal bench which was hidden by the big weeping willow tree, it was your favourite spot in the whole park because it was always shady and the big tree made you feel like little kids again, you were so small in comparison and when the wind picked up the branches whipped around like a carousel and tangled together like a curtain to hide behind.

"hey you'll be okay in the class by yourself for a while right?" he asked and took a pit off his ice cream "I'll have to be won't I. I'm really proud of you you know that" you stole the flake that he was about to bite into and took a bite out of it letting the chocolate bit's fall off and land on your crop top melting almost instantly "I know. But I promise I'm gonna get you up there with me. You won the sports festival I don't know why they're taking me" (ROLL WITH IT) he stole your flake in retaliation and started eating his ice cream "because you deserve it stop doubting yourself" you preached. You listened to the cars drive by and the angry drivers honking at each other, in all fairness there were indicators for a reason. The bustling life of the city drowned out by the calm bubble surrounding the 2 of you "well you deserve it too (y/n)" he argued and you both burst into a fit of laughter knowing that it was almost impossible to be mad at each other and this wasn't even close to a reason.

"Hey I need to tell you something" he whispered taking a bite out of the sugary cone "oooh~ are you going to profess your undying love for me" you giggled not knowing what you were getting into in the next few minutes "yes... I am" ".....WHAT!" WELL, THIS TOOK A TURN "I like you. Like in a girlfriend type of way" he sighed when a big flake of his cone cracked and fell into the dirt under him "oh. This is unexpected" you whispered taking a bite out of your own cone getting crumbs down your top "if you don't feel the same it's okay I just wanted you to know" he pursed his lips and drew little circles in the dry dirt "no I do, I do feel the same I guess I just didn't realise I felt the same... does that make sense?" it probably didn't.

Of course, you felt the same, he had been your best friend for a while now so obviously you caught some feelings but you had never given them a title like, a crush or love or anything like that, they were just there. They would either go away or they wouldn't and now you were here. You were glad they hadn't "yeah it does" he smiled and the wind picked up a bit lacing the branches together to create th perfect veil as he leaned down and kissed you softly, it was nice and filled with love and admiration and your face turned soft pink and matched the heat of the sun beating down right now.

It didn't last long unfortunately as 2 pillars of smoke started coming out of your shirt and burning fabric once again took over your senses "NO NO NO NOT NOW COME ON" you shouted feeling the fabric separating on your back and you held the front of your crop top on your front "okay well we're gonna not do that for now" Hitoshi said calmy and you shot him a panicked glance gesturing to your unfortunate situation with your other hand. The back of your top fell off and you arched your back when it came into contact with the cold rugged bark of the willow tree "OKAY WELL NOT WALKING HOME LIKE THAT" he shouted and took off his vest throwing it to you and turning away.

You put it on quickly after you calmed down a bit and you weren't burning anything. "Okay you can turn around," you instructed focusing only on the branches in front of you "what not gonna look at me?" "nope" "why not?" you cleared your throat and clicked your tongue "because if I do this shirt will just burn off too and then we'll have to phone dad and get him to bring me a shirt and then he'll ask how I managed to burn two of my shirts off and then I have to listen to him go on and on like a 15-year-old girl about how he totally called that we would get together and then-" "alright I get it," he said putting his hand over your mouth 'well you just set yourself up for failure' you thought and licked his hand which he pulled back and wiped on your jeans "your gross" he chuckled and stood up wiping the dirt off his jeans and standing directly in your eye line putting his hand out to help you up. Which you didn't accept since you were rather busy ogling those goddamn washboard abs "well your not burning yet but you might be brain dead" he flicked your forehead and you shook your head slightly accepting his help up.

You started to walk home as the bright blue sky turned to a medley of tangerine and lavenders with pink brush strokes in between. "We should get ice cream more often," he said his honeyed voice cutting the silence held between you "I agree, we train so much we deserve it!" you exclaimed "you just wanna see me shirtless" he teased. It took every ounce of willpower you had to not burn the shirt off by accident but thankfully you didn't "pfft no. I want ice cream the shirtless thing doesn't have to be exclusively an ice cream thing" you pointed out nudging his shoulder with yours as your house got closer and he rolled his eyes wrapping his arm around your waist pulling you next to him like 2 magnets sticking to each other.

"Well I'll see you tomorrow Hitoshi," you said once you reached your door "yeah see you tomorrow," he said pecking your cheek and walking off down the road leaving you astonished at your door. "DAD YOUR NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS" you screamed as you entered the house.

4 weeks later

"We have another student joining the hero course" the grumpy teacher announced and you bust into the 1-A classroom with your wings outstretched behind you "PUT THE GREMLIN BACK" shinso shouted from the back of the classroom "GO BACK UNDER THE BRIDGE YOU CAME FROM" you shouted back and took your seat next to him "dad wants to know if you're staying for dinner after training" you whispered, "yeah what are we having?" "chicken" 

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 11

Silent scream

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: y/n gets shut up

Warnings: mentions of violence, swearing

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

"Fuck you." I snapped, mustering all the saliva I could before spitting it at his face. He flinched back when it splattered over his cheek, his fingers swiping through the spittle before he was shaking it from them and standing back to his full height.

"It appears this one is never going to cooperate. If she won't give us information, why let our experimentations on her possibly...benefit the girl the the future?" The general spoke menacingly to the guards behind me. "How about way find a way to shut her up?"

My heat thudded so hard in my chest it was like someone was punching me from the inside, all air knocked from my lungs before I was being hoisted up to my feet again with two rough grips on my upper arms. My chest heaving, I coughed a ragged breath before composing myself. The glint of the silver blade in the corner of my vision sent my eyes bugging out of my skull and my mind into a flat panic.

So, I did what any rational person with my capabilities would do. I began to hum the deep melody - one a seldom sung - and a smirk crawled its way onto my now curved lips. Clearly, the general was prepared, but the two guards behind we weren't so lucky.

A desperate cry pierced my tune, harmonising with my voice as I heard the havoc I was causing. This was the first time I'd enjoyed a kill, the very first time I'd wanted to use my powers for such a horrific reason. I'd only ever used this part of my power a few times, but this was the only time I'd been fully lucid whilst doing so.

Some people want nothing more than to blow their enemies' brains out, and trust me when I tell you; It felt good.

However, luck was never on my side, and the General had come full prepared. He wasn't even affected, it must've been something to do with the funny earpiece he was wearing.

As my eyes met his, the General's face held non of the cocky, smug tones that I'd expect. No, the only word I could use to describe his old and crinkled features was pure ire, and it was directed at me.

"You conniving, vile little bitch!" He snarled, the flash of silver weeding a sense of utter and complete dread, tangled with fear inside of me, uprooting my confidence. I don't remember a lot after that, to tell you the truth. I know the blade sliced along my throat. I know everything was rained black. And that's about it.

...

Awakening with a gasp was the last thing I expected to happen. The sight of the blade risen in front of the general burned into my mind, almost as if it'd been scorned against my flesh. But here I was: awake, gasping for breath, completely surrounded by doctors I'd never seen before.

My hand instantly flew to my neck, a stinging sensation pulsing from the delicate skin. I hissed as my sweaty palm made contact with the bandage, the material corse and scratchy against my skin. As a doctor waddled over to me, needle in hand, I flailed desperately, a silent scream ripping from my throat.

Hang on a second-

Silent scream? I tried again, the shrill noise that should be tearing from me simply vanishing as it hit my throat. My eyes widened with the realisation, my bottom lip wobbling as I suddenly pieces together what had happened.

He said he'd have to shut me up, didn't he? The thought made me want to scream loudly, that the blade had touched my skin and left me with no defence.

They took away the hell they'd reigned upon me, something I'd wished I could be rid of for years, and now I was disappointed. Maybe this was their plan all along, that little voice in my head sang. The tears pricked at my eyes, which rolled back lazily as the scratch of the needle poked at my neck.

...

My calloused fingers ran over the cut tirelessly, trying to itch somewhere that I could never seem to find. I don't know how long I was sedated for, but since waking up the bleeding had stopped and there was now an offensive red line that slid horizontally across my neck.

Every time I touched it, it coaxed a wince from me, and yet that's all I seemed to do. It was like poking a bruise, I guess. The more it hurts the more you want to do it.

They'd returned me to my cell, clearly very little need for restraints against my weakened, starved and dehydrated body. I could see the flesh thinning on my arms, my ribs pressing painfully against my skin. Not only could I see the hunger, but I could feel it.

Manifesting, biting, gnawing hunger. The type that are you from inside out, devouring everything of you until the only thing you could think about was eating. Huh, I guess I was already at that stage then.

My eyes remained locked in place, glossy with the endless tears as I stared at the floor. If I really looked hard enough, the still wet blood smeared over the floors of the hallway resembled something close to strawberry jam. The thoughts of the sickly sweat substance spread over a perfectly toasted piece of bread, accompanied with a big glass of fresh orange juice and washed down by a large coffee made my mouth water. The booming rumble in my stomach made the groan, even more drawn out than expected when I remembered all I'd get to eat today: a small bread roll and a tiny glass of water.

Sadly, the sink in my cell did not contain drinking water. The liquid was so discoloured that I purposely avoided washing me hands, preferring to possible have my own germs coating my hands than whatever they were giving me. I'm not kicking you about, I genuinely think the water was filtered through a clump of fucking horse shit, mixed with fish guts and complimented with a hint of rotting fruit. If I could help it, I'd be dodging that water like the plague (if it didn't contain one already) for the rest of my life.

I'm not really sure why, but my head snapped up in surprise why the door sprang open, a single guard entering.

"The general requires your presence." He deadpanned, eyes cold as eyes and sharp as a knife as they stabbed through me. I wanted to fight back, stay glued to the spot and snap back some snarky remark, but in my current condition I almost couldn't bring myself to care where I was about to be taken, or why for that matter.

I stood without a word, silently following the man until we reached an unfamiliar metal door. I found it almost laughable, really, that they'd reduced my strength so much, that no one even considered putting me any sort of restraints anymore.

The door was pushed open with a child-like whine emitting from its rusty hinges, the metal scraping over the concrete floor painfully. The guard simply grabbed my arm before tugging me into the room, letting the door shut behind his with a hollow thunk.

"Ah, she has arrived!" The general's voice exclaimed, a deviant smile spreading over his thin lips. "And just in time to meet Mr Pierce, too." He said menacingly.

I felt embarrassed, exposed, stood before the room of men. My hair was a mess, tears streaking my reddened face, eyes puffy from crying and the only clothes a wore was a now-battered hospital gown. My eyes darted around nervously, trying to avoid the blonde man sat before me, chin resting in his palm as he surveyed me.

"Why is this one...important?" The man asked, eyeing me up and down before his eyes seemed to fixate on my neck. The scar.

"This," the general spoke, but Mr Pierce kept his eyes on me, "is Miss y/n Stark." Mr Pierce's eyes widened ever so slightly, but it was barely noticeable.

"As in Tony Stark?" Pierce pondered.

"The very same." The general smirked.

"She seems awfully...quiet, for a Stark." Pierce said with almost a hint of disgust, eyes still glued to my shaking frame.

"That's because we shut her up." The general snapped, awfully harshly.

"Is that the scar? How fresh is it?" Pierce jabbed his questions, curiosity clearly becoming him in the moment.

"Indeed. Our doctors here are very good, Sir. They had her all patched up and out of bandages in just three days." The general bragged, shoulders back and head held high as if he was posing for a portrait.

"I see." Pierce mused, brows furrowed in thought. "What do you plan to do with her? Now that she can't tell you anything?"

"Oh, trust me, sir. She wasn't giving anything up either way," he paused, striding over to me and yanking my head back with a fistful of hair, my back mow  pressed to his chest and his mouth at my ear, "isn't that right, sweetheart?"he clarified, and I didn't hesitate to nod my head as much as his grip would allow.

"So why isn't she dead?" Pierce gritted, seemingly annoyed. "It's not like Tony's attached to her, he never looked for her and I've never even heard him mention her."

"But then they'll keep coming. I don't want the avengers on my back, and I'm sure you don't either." Pierce hummed in agreement. "She's with them - her and that Captain America guy arrived together - so why not use her to send a message?" The general suggested.

...

That's how I found myself tied up, wrists bound and gun to my head as I sat shakily in a chair in the middle of the quinjet. I had no clue how long I'd been since that day, but I do know that I had been sedated once again. The flimsy hospital gown allowed a shiver to chill me, skin  forming goosebumps as I sat before the open door or the quinjet.

"You will tell them exactly as I just did. Got it?" The general pressed, pushing the gun into my head hard enough to make by head throb. Tears biting at my eyes, I nodded furiously, now determined to live with the promise of being free again. "Good. Soldat, make sure she gets back to New York without being seen, I'd hate to have to spill more blood than we intended." The general demanded, a figure rustling its way out of the shadows at the edge of the room. A gasp tore from my throat at the sight of him - clad in black leather and arm as silver as the moon. The soldier - my soldier.

But he simple stared through me, eyes blank and clouded in a coldness I'd never had directed at me from him before.

"And make sure you don't fail this time, soldat." The general snapped. The soldier nodded solemnly, the echoing of boots thudding filling both their ears as the general walked off the ship.

[kitkatopinions]

I'm aware of the cross tagging from FNDM in rwde since sometimes I look in it at times, but I think what irks me is about Adam.

The guy is already dead and FNDM just can't let go that anyone that are fans of him just have to shove in there face "See? See? He's ALWAYS been emotional abusive since the beginning, you guys are abuse apologist!" He was charismatic in a degree because he had a lot of loyal followers, and if I remember correctly didn't he not give a shit Blake was in Beacon? Why is the FNDM so keen on people that don't agree with them? It's such a waste of time.

The Adam topic is honestly a... Hard one, with a lot of layers. I fully believe he was always meant to be Blake’s abuser and a plain straight villain. But he used to be a much more nuanced character, who let her go and focused on his own goals. He got coerced - yes, full on coerced - into joining Cinder’s plan, but seemed to lean into it and wanted to use it to his advantage. In season three, he delved into much worse territory, stabbing Blake, trying to cut off her head, and maiming Yang. This obviously ought to be considered evil. But he still let Blake run away and continued doing his job rather than chasing her down and killing her and Yang, clearly implying that he cared about a lot more than just Blake.

The treatment of the faunus/racism allegory really damages all of their Faunus characters in the first five season minus maybe Velvet. Adam was no exception to this. He should’ve been a very different character than what we got even in seasons 1-3 because he was a strong voice in their only pro-Faunus rights activist group, and seemingly a leader of one of the branches. CRWBY never should’ve made the only pro-Faunus rights activist group in their story a violent terrorist group that wanted to destroy peace and take out white people non faunus. And one of the leaders of that group being an abuser and a total monster? Not a cute look. That feels like straight up propaganda. Especially after revealing Adam’s brand mark, and dropping details about him being a slave in songs and outside content.

And then the writing staff decided to take a character who seemed to care for his cause and care for his people (he rejected Cinder’s offer for him to join them because it would do nothing for the Faunus, and then only agreed when she threatened his people,) and they stripped him of those two good traits and made him act as though he’d only ever been using the White Fang for power and to get at Blake. He stalked her for days (when he’d willingly let her get away without following two times before,) and he turned into nothing more than an abusive ex. I got tripped up enough on RT’s terrible to choice to make him such a monster in the first place, but stripping him of the few good points he did have just to... Make Blake sadder, maybe? Make him seem less sympathetic? That sucked. And if they were going for trying to make Adam less sympathetic, they shouldn’t have freaking showed us the SDC logo burned into his face! There’s nothing satisfying about watching an oppressed former child slave and allegory to people of color, with a company logo branded onto his face, get murdered due to no real fault from the heroes and die alone after having his character reduced to ‘abusive ex’ by careless white writers who just last season had been shoving ‘people of color should stop hurting themselves and just prove they’ll defend white people from other people of color and then they’ll earn respect’ into their narrative. 

Honestly, I’m not an Adam stan. His character didn’t get a lot (and his voice acting wasn’t the best tbh,) and the character he did have was largely unlikable to me personally. The reason for that is the writers’ miserable failure of an allegory that came across as very propaganda-ish and white comfort driven, but I’ve just never really... Liked him all that much. However, a lot of people saw potential in Adam, and liked who he could’ve been a lot. And there were other people who liked Adam as a villain. Both of those things are perfectly valid. I don’t know much about the Adam stan community, but I personally have never once seen anyone in the RWDE tags excusing Adam’s actions in the show or trying to say they were alright. What I have seen is people acknowledging that Adam’s character was severely mishandled, or writing their own, new versions of Adam’s character where they try to handle him well or treat the topics at hand with more respect than the writers did. Other people literally just acknowledge Adam’s pain, and that’s totally valid too.

I’ve dealt with crosstagging in other fandoms and pro tags getting lots of anti people invading and trying to pick fights. And even main character tags, people should realize are going to be used by people who enjoy the character, and attacking them for it or commenting on their posts to try and get a reaction is mad annoying. Antis should use filterable tags. RWBY megafans are always getting mad at RWDE posters if they so much as use the main tag even if they have a drove of filterables, but they refuse to use any proper tags themselves. It can be so frustrating when you’re just trying to share content about a character you like with other people who like that character, and you get people coming into your comments going ‘you know they did A right?’ ‘you know they’re a bad person, right?’ ‘Oh so you love (insert immoral thing here)?!?!’

It’s honestly toxic. Adam - the character - did horrible things no one should excuse. But A. He did those things because he was written to do them, and people ought to be able to look at that writing and see how it’s harmful. And B. Liking a character is not approval of all of their actions. People can stan villains. There are Joker stans and Tom Riddle stans and freaking Moriarty from Sherlock lovers, I think RWBY fans should be able to get past Adam stans. And C. Softening characters for your own personal headcanons is a-okay, and shouldn’t be something you get attacked for. This is especially important to remember in characters that you look at and say ‘this should’ve been done differently because the character they did give us is insulting or a bad portrayal.’ It’s easy to become attached to characters you think were done dirty by their clearly biased writers. I have a long string of characters I just write different in fan fiction, because I got mad at how they were handled, for all sorts of fandoms. People need to understand that not everyone is going to see RWBY and the RWBY characters exactly how they see them. People have different favorites and different interpretations, and even if that interpretation isn’t one hundred percent right in canon, well guess what? Canon isn’t king, people have every right to headcanon whatever they want.

You got me ranting. XD But yeah, I personally think RWBY fans should leave Adam fans alone, so long as they aren’t hurting anyone. Obviously, I don’t know all the details, but yeah. I’m a firm believer in the benefits of ‘pro’ and ‘anti’ tags for character content. I’ve been trying to use ‘pro Ironwood’ for instance in mine. I know it wouldn’t get rid of all the antis, but it’s worth a shot.

And the amount of RWBY megafans who literally go to the RWDE tag and look at posts specifically tagged and marked as anti rwby eight ways to sunday just to pick fights... Astronomical. People who don’t like to see it should filter it out and make their (and our!) experiences much better.

So... Those are my thoughts on that.

[indianamoonshine]

Solo’s Copilot

*I don’t know whose gif this is so please let me know!*

SUMMARY: Ben Solo is a smuggler. You're a weapon's expert for the Resistance who hates flying but loves cocky bastards.

Against your better judgement, you accept Ben's invitation to be his copilot as he smuggles dangerous cargo around the galaxy - cargo that includes Hutt merchandise.

RATING: M/E

CHAPTER: 1

This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea.

You'd punish yourself for agreeing to this later. You hated flying. Space travel was simply not meant for human beings - this you were convinced of. Your feet belonged planted into the ground. Space was no place for someone like you. It was cold, desolate, and terrifying. You avoided it whenever you could, even if that meant attending meetings through holograms. Sure, it put a damper on your work, but at least you wouldn't risk choking to death.

Ben liked to the fly. A lot. And you liked Ben. A lot.

"Do you think it's ready?"

Poe Dameron, general of the Resistance, could never say 'no' to a challenge even if it meant breaking protocol. Late last night, just before the cycle began again, Ben had gotten finished with putting the finishing touches on Poe's beloved X-wing. Somehow, some way, he'd managed to create something no one had ever succeeded to do before. He'd attempted to explain the process to you, but you were an expert on handheld weapons - not starfighters. Nonetheless, you tried to follow his commentary, even if it sounded like he was speaking a different language.

"I'll bet you ten credits it is," Ben says proudly. "Chewie wouldn't let me use the Falcon as a test rat if it weren't."

The giant and hairy Wookie roars from the weapon's crate he's leaning against. You can't speak Wookie, but he doesn't sound as convinced as Ben had let on. Chewbacca gurgles something in his native tongue - it seems like he's reasoning with Ben - and then huffs through his nose when he's ignored.

Poe shifts in his stance dubiously, arms crossed against his chest, and teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek. You really didn't blame Poe for being skeptical. Ben was a great mechanic, but his "experiment" was reaching. If successful, however, he might have discovered a new way to train pilots. Personally, you hoped it worked; the news of beginners crashing to their fiery deaths was becoming too frequent.

The general understood the severity of this test. He shook his head, defying his better judgement. "Alright. Fine. But I wanna make it more interesting."

Ben raised an eyebrow, long fingers reaching for his jacket he'd draped across the crate next to Chewie. "Like...?"

Poe smirks a little. "A bet. We race from here and back again within ten parsecs."

Even Ben is taken aback. Chewie voices a forceful concern from behind, raising his arms in the air. But after a moment of deliberation, he shrugs with nonchalance.

"Alright. Bet," he says, reaching out to shake Poe's hand. They do, their grips tight around one another. You know Ben is showing off the strength Poe doesn't have by the way the general flinches when they pull away.

Ben turns his chin to you. "Come on, Petals."

Petals. The name gives you a warm, tightening feeling in your belly, sort of like if you'd just drank a shit ton of wine. You follow, grabbing the hand he's offered to you, and resist the urge to lean against him. But your eyes widen in shock when he lifts your intertwined hands and kisses the back of palm with closed eyes.

"What was that for?" you ask with a smile, blush creeping into your cheeks. So embarrassing.

He smirks a grin that could melt ice. "Does there have to be a reason?"

You blink away the lewd thoughts creeping into the shore of your conscious. The thought of him raising that same fist above your head and pinning you to the mattress, warm and plush lips sliding their way down your body as you moan his name in a whiny, almost pornographic, whimper...

That hadn't happened yet, you reminded yourself.

The two of you step inside the Falcon and he releases your hand. You almost whine at his separation, your palm growing cold without his warmth, but you keep quiet. It was still too early to pout like a touch-starved girlfriend. Even though you were touch-starved. Too touch-starved for your own liking. And he was right there; the man who wetted your dreams was right there and you hadn't even seen him naked yet.

Disappointment clouds your vision, but you walk to the cockpit anyway.

Nimble and long fingers dance around the controls you couldn't name if your life depended on it, and the Falcon roars to life. A button on the wall flickers and spits out a choking beep, but when Ben slams his fist against it, it stops. It was almost as if everything he does once seated in the chair is an instinct, like he was possessed by some all-knowing entity.

And while you had confidence in Ben, the fear of flying did not dissipate, even if drowning in a sea of lust. You raise your knees to your chest, the chair being so large that you had more than enough room to fold yourself in it, and begin to chew on your fingernails.

Ben looks over at you. "You don't trust me?"

But he's smiling. It's one of those cocksure smiles that feels objectifying, but still knots your stomach anyway. Maybe that's why it knots your stomach.

You nod your head. "I do," but it's shaky.

Ben hums in disagreement. "Then why do you look like you're headed to your execution?"

He was probably right. You couldn't see yourself, so maybe you did look a little too wound up from another perspective. Still, it was unavoidable.

"You know I hate flying," you say softly. "I belong on the ground."

Ben gazes at you for a moment, eyes twinkling with something you'd never seen in him before, and then leans over to whisper in your ear. "Petals, you belong among the stars..." his hot breath tingles your spine and you shiver as he buckles you in.

Fuck. The cockpit spins, air heated with desire. Your fingers curl into the meat of your palms and this time it's not from fear.

A switch is flipped and Poe's voice filters through the speaker - it jolts you back to reality. Suddenly, Ben isn't the only being in the entirety of the galaxy. "Solo, are we gonna go or what?" he complains.

Ben leans into the mic. "Yeah, ready to go."

The falcon lifts into the air and you flinch, eyes squeezing shut, and muscles turning to stone. This can't be happening. How stupid could you possibly be? You hadn't flown in years. It doesn't help when your ears pop as you reach the stratosphere, and then finally to the mesosphere where the base below turns virtually microscopic. Ben pulls a lever, which you can only assume is the thruster, and the ship lurches towards the blackness of space. Within two minutes, you're off the planet completely, but your nerves have somewhat calmed almost unnaturally. You allow yourself to open an eye and peer out the window, but gasp at the bleakness, and hide your face into your knees again.

"I think you underestimate how good I am at this," Ben chides, but it's playful somehow. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

You peek at him through your lashes. "Promise?"

Something in Ben softens like marmalade. Maybe it was the pathetic way you squeaked, or the way your cheeks burned in humiliation, but he found something endearing enough to crane his neck over and kiss you gently on the lips. It's soft, warm, and it leaves you wishing it were more as he pulls away with one last peck to your temple.

"Promise," he mumbles in your hair.

Another forbidden image flickers through your head: Ben whispering gently in your ear as he rocks into you with tantalizingly slow thrusts, but deep enough to cause you to sob desperately beneath him.

Shit. Shut the fuck up, you berate internally while attempting to rebuke the scenario.

The speaker filters Poe's voice again. "Ready when you are."

"You trust me?" Ben says then, holding your gaze with his own.

You did. "Yeah."

He nods and faces the viewport while gripping the thruster and then says, "Hang on tight."

You knew the Falcon was fast. You'd been told of its legendary speed and noticed how people gawked like it was a living, breathing thing itself. People were enamored with the "hunk of junk" (as others so famously called it) and you'd never understood why. People liked the rush. People liked the stories. People liked the power. You'd felt this with weapons before; a few guns had really excited you over the years, but it was never on the scale of which the Falcon did for others. The Falcon was a war machine, riddled with battle scars from the Empire and the First Order. It was somewhat of a deity.

But to experience it was another thing.

You're jostled into the depths of space, body stumbling forward, but the restriction of the seat belt saving you from plummeting to the floor. Ben was enjoying this immensely, his face bright with exhilaration and fingers bracing for anything.

"Alright, you gonna hit me or what, Dameron?" Ben shouts to the speaker.

There's no reply from the other end and all is silent before there's a sudden...

Bang!

You shriek, desperately clinging to the arms of the chair, and peer out the viewport for any sign of Poe's X-wing. You hadn't even noticed how flawlessly Ben's ingenuity had proved until the general glides beside the Falcon with a thumbs up and a goofy smile. It'd worked. The stun blasters had succeeded on a ship for the first time in history. The controls of the Falcon have frozen, lights blinking erratically, but reported no damage to the hull. Within a few seconds, all the switches on the dashboard sputter back to life.

Ben lets out a joyful holler and presses the intercom again. "Fan-fuckin'-tastic! It worked!"

Poe laughs along with him. "Great job, Solo. You've just saved a lot of lives."

"Happy to be of service," Ben replies, still clutching the thruster. He turns to you and finds you've relaxed, legs now dangling off the edge of your chair. "How about that race now, Dameron?"

You gulp. Oh shit. You'd forgotten about that.

There's no warning before Ben jumps to lightspeed.

You may have not done much flying, but you knew this wasn't how lightspeed worked. At least, not when human decency was involved. Worlds whizzed past the viewport within seconds, the stars of the galaxy stretching into view in-between them. You scream, grasping onto whatever you could find, and wait for death. Ben's skipped to at least ten planets by now and it hadn't even been a couple of minutes.

You don't even think it's ever gone this fast before.

Ben chuckles a hearty laugh, something like a maniacal teenager would muster up, while skipping through the infinity of space-time. Landscapes of all imagination and color had dissolved in front of you, but when a water planet with a massive wall of a wave appeared before you, there was nothing that could stop you from screaming Ben's name in sheer terror.

But, of course, Ben had everything under control. Like breathing, his hands reached for the proper controls, and the Falcon managed to evade the mountain of ice water.

"BEN!" you yell, resisting the urge to slap him even when in lightspeed. Your hands tremble and you prepare for the next jump, praying to the Gods or the Force or whatever it was that controlled your fate, to arrive back home in one piece.

The Falcon rolls on its side, thrusting into another planet once more, until finally - finally - Ajan Kloss sweeps into view.

Ben looks more than satisfied. In fact, he looks like a lotha cat who got the cream. The smugness on his face is apparent, smirk lopsided while looking steady as ever. He folds his hands behind his head and leans back against the chair as you catch your breath, heart thumping randomly in your chest.

"It's never gone that fast before. I just beat my father's run. I can't bel...-"

Before he can even finish, you've pounced on him, desire coursing through your veins. The rush of adrenaline from a near death experience pools arousal between your legs while you swing them on each side of him. Gods, this man was going to kill you one day, and fuck all, if you'd let him. His calloused hands roam up your sides and then down to your ass to scoot you closer.

Your fingers weave through his thick locks, pulling him deeper into the kiss, and when you part your lips, his hot tongue slid against yours. It took everything - everything - in you to not tear off your shirt in that moment. And you would've, had Poe not interrupted so rudely.

"You son of a bitch. I can't believe you pulled that off!"

You growl at the intrusion, refusing to let Ben go. He smiles against your mouth, hands still cupping the meat of your ass with both hands; hands big enough to almost palm it completely. "You owe me ten credits!" Ben chuckles. You kiss against his neck with a hunger that felt foreign, still so heated from moments before. If Poe found you straddling Ben like this, so fuckin' be it.

Sure enough, Poe arrives next to the window and peers in. When he finds Ben meeting your open mouthed kisses, he groans in disgust.

"Get a room, you two. I'm going back to base."

Ben doesn't separate his lips from yours as he raises a hand in Poe's direction. He hums, "Mmm hmm..." against you as a reply. You allow a giggle that you'd been suppressing bubble from your mouth; Ben swallows it.

"I don't think you're afraid of flying anymore," he mumbles against you, eyes half-lidded, and then squeezes one of your ass cheeks roughly; you let out a yelp. "I think it turns you on."

You shake your head against him, pressing your knees upon the chair to raise yourself over him. More leverage. You needed more leverage. "No. You turn me on. How the fuck can you fly like that?"

"You've got a dirty mouth, don't you?" he teases, tongue entering your mouth once more. Gods, how you wished that tongue were in your pussy instead.

You hum against him as he'd done to you. "Just for you."

He laughs and pulls away from you, though by the way he hesitates you know he doesn't want to. You'd have to get home somehow, you suppose. Still, you weren't flying. Might as well continue indulging in something that doesn't happen very often. The excitement of being caught in an embrace, of being catapulted from one world to another at a dangerous speed...it was a rush.

Ben suppresses a deep laugh - how could he make a laugh sound sexy? - and starts up the falcon again.

[jpat82]

Nameless

Chapter 9

    The cavern was almost silent, the dripping seemed to get louder as you tried to listen for whatever dropped down ahead of you. The thundering in your chest was heavy in your ears as you stood still, your mangled hands held tight to your chest. You closed your eyes to the complete darkness ahead, if only James were here.

    "The two of you sound like a heard of wild elephants, not two wolves. I think Hulk is quieter then the both of you." A accented voice ahead of you stated, a flash of silver in the darkness as your eyes popped open.

    "I can smell her." Thor's familiar voice cut through the air, tension in your body immediately falling away from you, relief flooding through you.

    "Of course you can, you fool, she is directly behind you." Loki's voice hissed, a warm hard rest on your forearm. "Y/n, what happened?"

    "They.. they brought me here. They want Luca." You stuttered as a warm tear slipped down your cheek. "We have to get out of here and get to him."

    "Master Barnes is heading this way." Thor told you, his words echoing off the walls.

    "We don't have time." You responded, a pleading tone in your voice.

     "But Lady.."

      "No!" You interrupted the wolf, your voice carrying through the cavern, echoing. "We go now."

     "I like you." The third man stated, silver eyes looking at you through the darkness. "A woman that doesn't back down, I can see why Bucky picked you."

    "She's injured." Loki stated with annoyance. "Not that I care if Bucky gets angry that his woman is injured further, I would rather not to have deal with more then my share of work."

     "When have you ever back down from a messy fight? Brother, have you gone weak?" Thor chuckled knowing how to crawl under his brothers skin.

     "I didn't say that." Loki smarted back.

     "I don't care, my son is in danger and if we don't get out of this cave James won't be the one you are dealing with!" You snapped.

—————

Bucky walked between Sam and Steve, Steve on his right, Sam on his left just as it had always been. They followed the trail that Pietro and the wolves had made. The moon high in the sky above of them, silence had descended across the family as they pushed forward.

"You've been more quiet then usual, what is it Bucky?" Sam clipped out, his eyes scanning across the field ahead of them. "Cause not that I don't enjoy ripping someone apart, you and Steve seem a lot more tense then usual."

     Bucky looked back at his family, each of them following him blindly yet again. He sighed heavily, his head slowly turning back forward looking out across the grassland that shown under the silver light of moon. A shiver of dread coursed it's way down his spine.

"Eons ago, there were only two races. Humans and daemons. Everything today that isn't human, has somehow come from the daemon bloodline, whether through virus, or creation." Bucky calmly explained, thinking back to the ancient books he had read while being tutored by Stan. "All of us, have daemon origins. Including y/n."

"And that's because she had the dormant strain of what you have." Sam stated, more to remind himself that even if Bucky's wife had started human she was as much a creature of the night as any of them.

"Yes." Bucky replied. "These daemons, they didn't look human, didn't look like the wolves, didn't even resemble humans in anyway. Their skin was black, or dark violet, navy. Odds scars ran across their faces and down their back, horns grew on the their heads, often times twisted and at unnatural angles. They were very powerful, and had a very distinct smell."

"So your saying we're following daemons?" Sam questioned.

"Good, god no." Steve chuckled, he noticed the separation in the soil yards a head, the slight smell of sulphur riding on the wind. He ran up ahead as Bucky kept his pace.

"Yes and no, daemons can't reproduce, they never have been able to. And the can't exist here without a host and thats what they do is find hosts." Bucky stopped suddenly, Sam followed suit and both men faced each other, the family gathering around them. "They envade the body of a living being, it's almost like they rip themselves apart and force apart of their own being into someone else. They create destruction, war, mayhem and pain where ever they go for no other reason then that they can. The only goal they have had was take over the earth and lay it to ash. To create the perfect hell to live in."

"Holy hell." Clint breathed, his jaw going slack.

"Thousands of years ago, the humans and other creatures of the night banded together in an attempt to take them out. It was bloody, and long drawn out, their leader, Thanos, was brutal and took to using kids as his weapons and warriors. Eventually we thought we had succeed, we could do what the humans couldn't or wouldn't do. The night creatures decided upon ourselves to burn down an entire country, we surrounded all ways for them to escape and turned it to ash. For two years we made this country burn till not a single body was left." He explained, all emotions removed from his voice, his eyes a dull blue as he spoke. Bucky took a deep breath before continuing. "The humans never forgave us."

"So we're dealing with daemons? Or just one that's been like a photo copied on steroids?" Tony asked, his eyebrow raised.

"Once a host is infected with daemon essence it spreads through the human body, slowly transforming into a new daemon that is completely different then the original." Bucky explained.

"So it's similar to the vampire virus?" Tony stated, shrugging. "You can turn us into a vampire but like with parental restrictions. We can't make other vampires and we don't get the cool eye trick but essentially we can do the same things."

"Except once the person is infected by a daemon, they become one, one hundred percent." Steve stated as he walked back the rest of family. "The hounds and Pietro went down there."

"Then down the hole we go." Bucky replied.

"Alright Alice, but I get to be the white rabbit." Tony quipped.

——————

Wanda rushed through the darkened passage under the house, Luca held tight to her chest. She knew every turn, she had spent hours down here soon after she had been turned. Bucky and the rest of the family left her behind as they didn't think she was strong enough to handle the hunt. Now she had been glad, it prepared her to run blindly in the darkness to the door that opened out into the forest.

She had thought Thanos was dead, long gone. Her heart hammered hard in her chest, her stomach flipping over and over again. There was no way he should be alive. No way at all. She had seen the visions of his death when she was child and then again when her and Pietro had been on the run from hunters. It was brief and fleeting image she had seen but he had been there, collecting the lives of children.

     The child in her arms squirmed as she shoved the old wooden door open, allowing the cool night to wrap around her. Moonlight filtered it's way through the thick canopy above giving her light to navigate through the dense forest.

    Now, he was here. The only thought burning through her mind was to put as much distance between them and her as possible. She ran down the brush covered hill side, heading in the direction of the town, keeping clear of the foot paths on the off chance any of his lackeys would be laying in wait.

    Someone stepped out from behind a tree, Wanda couldn't stop next thing she knew she was colliding into someone.

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[bungou-stray-dogs-indulgences]

Hi there! Just wanna say I absolutely love your blog! I wanted to request headcanons of Akutagawa, Dazai, Atsushi, Chuuya, and Mori (if that number is too big then just the first 3 are fine! ^-^) with an S/o that is an artist, but when they get really into their paintings/drawings, they don't always pay attention to the boys?

(I did general artist HCs too, I hope that’s okay?)

Akutagawa Ryunosuke

For the sake of Akutagawa’s interior decoration, it’s probably a good thing you’re an artist. The only thing clothing his otherwise naked walls is your artwork. No matter what you paint, it’s going on display.

Painting is one of the few things Akutagawa compliments often and openly. Art is one of the things he appreciates most; the fact that such emotion and intensity can be displayed without words amazes him. Normally, Akutagawa wouldn’t be anywhere near as vocally encouraging, but he wants you to know how much genuine pleasure your work brings to him, so he praises everything from your brushstrokes to your color choices.

Secretly, Akutagawa slips your sketchbook in with his belongings if he’s going on a long trip for the Port Mafia. Looking at your drawings comforts him, and the lines winding across the page quickly become his solace when the two of you are apart. Even when he’s countless miles away from you, a mere glance at your sketchbook’s pages makes the distance seem a little less cold.

Akutagawa doesn’t want to pull you away from your hobbies, especially ones that he enjoys as well, so he’s a bit more reluctant to recapture your attention while you’re focused on art. Despite this, he still takes your sudden cold-shoulders a bit personally, even if they’re not intentional.

After awhile, Akutagawa will flat-out tell you he’s sick of you tuning him out. He points out that he really doesn’t have that much time to spend with you, what with all the Port Mafia business he’s got to handle.  If you still don’t pack up your supplies, his mood sours instantly. Akutagawa doesn’t dare start putting away your tools himself- he’s worried he’ll screw something up and you’ll be forced to scrap countless hours of work. Instead, he sits perhaps three feet away from you, glowering. He stays there, glaring, still as a statue until you’re simply too uncomfortable to continue. 

Dazai Osamu

Dazai praises your art exuberantly and often. There’s no one in the ADA who hasn’t been victim to him waxing poetic on your mastery of shading, the delicacy of your lines, the poetic beauty of your finished pieces. Often, he’ll google complicated artistic terms, just so he can compliment every possible thing there is to point out. Plus, he sounds smarter when he uses words like ‘chiaroscuro’ (even if it’s not always employed strictly in the right context).

Often, Dazai seeks out art exhibitions in Yokohama for the two of you to peruse. No matter the quality of the pieces shown, Dazai always pretends to be disappointed, bemoaning the fact that none of your art is there. Whenever you pick out a work that you like, Dazai sidles as close to it as the gallery attendants will let him. After scrutinizing it for awhile (he usually whips out a magnifying glass), he draws back, sighing dramatically and shaking his head. Dazai points out all the aspects that you could’ve done better, mourning the fact that this got into a gallery and your work remains displayed only in his home.

Depending on the mood he’s in, Dazai either is alright with letting you alone as you work on your art, or he simply can’t handle being ignored. If he’s in one of the latter moods, kiss any potential progress good-bye. When you focus on your art instead of him, he’s immediately scheming ways of drawing your attention back. All of his brain power is channeled into getting you to acknowledge him.

Dazai tries every trick in the book. He starts off with sweet little kisses, smattered on your cheeks and neck, but it only goes downhill from there. If you don’t give in instantly, he morphs into a whiny toddler. Dazai creates racket in the background, pokes at your cheeks, complains about how cruel you’re being, pouting face about two inches away from yours. Things only escalate the longer your will holds out. Once, he set off the fire alarm just so that you’d acknowledge him (he apologized, but he wasn’t really sorry. Setting it off was so satisfying, not to mention effective, he’s got a burning desire to do it again.).

Nakajima Atsushi

Atsushi’s simply amazed by your skills. Whenever you show him a finished piece, he beams, eyes shining with awe as he admires your work. Atsushi’s never been too talented with a pencil and paper, and your creative prowess is only one of the countless reasons why he adores you.

Unless you specifically allow him sneak peeks, Atsushi avoids your unfinished pieces like the plague. To him, something just doesn’t feel right about glancing at such a personal object in progress. If he does happen to notice an uncompleted project, he’s instantly apologizing to you, begging forgiveness for invading your privacy.

If you let him, Atsushi loves to sit back and observe as you work on projects. He admires the way your hands swerve across the paper, sweeping lines with unbelievable grace and precision. He also thinks your facial expressions as you concentrate are adorable. Every time your nose scrunches, or your tongue pokes out of your mouth in concentration, Atsushi can’t help but grin, delighted at your sheer cuteness.

Although Atsushi feels a bit slighted when you spend hours fine tuning artwork instead of hanging out with him, he would never dream of interrupting you. Your level of focus amazes him. As long as you’ve got a paintbrush or pencil in your grasp, Atsushi doesn’t disturb you, occupying himself with something quiet and unobtrusive. He doesn’t even want to cause accidental breaks in your concentration, shying away from all loud noise and distracting activities while you’re at work.

When you’re in your zone, Atsushi keeps close tabs on you. Meals are left by your workspace to ensure that you don’t forget proper nutrition, there’s always a full water glass somewhere nearby, and his inner mother comes out when it’s long past time to pack it up; Atsushi strongly ‘encourages’ you get enough sleep (ignoring him results in an indignant cold-shoulder; he’s trying to look out for your health and you brush him off?! Unacceptible), no matter how much progress you’re making

Nakahara Chuuya

Soon after he discovers you’re an artist, Chuuya’s constantly bothering you to paint something for him. He insists on paying commission. If you won’t let your recompense be money, he’ll settle for paying you in kisses. 

Instead of keeping a photograph of you with him, Chuuya holds onto a pocket-sized self portrait. Staring at your likeness, one that you created, brings a smile to his face no matter where he is. The picture especially helps when he’s called away on long Port Mafia tasks; glancing at the image every so often eases some of the loneliness of being apart.

Chuuya will love anything you create, but he’ll especially enjoy a scene of Yokohama at night, with the lights glimmering over the water, or a portrait of you two together. After letting you pick out a suitable frame, he hangs every art piece you give him somewhere noticeable; usually, it ends up decorating the walls of the front hall or dining room. Chuuya’s special favorites go in his bedroom. When you’re not with him, it helps ease his loneliness if the last thing he glances before he falls asleep is one of your artworks.

You have to be careful complaining about your art supplies when around Chuuya. He’s prepared to splurge any amount just so that you’re outfitted with top-of-the-line tools. Whenever he notices that your pencils are growing dangerously short, or that your paintbrushes are fraying beyond redemption, he immediately surprises you with replacements. They’re always an unbelievably expensive brand, probably foreign, and usually, your initials are etched somewhere.

Chuuya will never directly let you know that he’s annoyed when you’re ignoring him. He’ll try every trick in the book to coax you away from your art, though. Chuuya taunts you with the promise of your favorite meals, tries to rub your shoulders until you’re putty in his fingers, even hints at all the other, more… exciting things you could be doing instead. If you’re completely determined to work on your art, he’ll eventually let you be, but he won’t go down without a fight.

Mori Ougai

Mori’s absolutely delighted when he finds out your artistic ability. He encourages all of your hobbies, but this one, he’s especially enthusiastic about supporting. Mori’s no art critic, but he does enjoy browsing pieces. If you’re the one to create it, his interest only skyrockets.

To Mori’s absolute glee, Elise takes a liking to your art, too. Whenever you’re slaving away on a project, she’s probably got one she’s working on, too; she likes to pick out the same subject as you and compare when you both finish. Mori can never decide which is better when pressed for his opinion (usually by Elise). They’re both masterpieces, he insists, and there’s no competition between masters. Both artworks are hung up together, a plaque underneath them identifying the pieces as a collaboration between the world’s two greatest art masters.

Without telling you, Mori calls in a designer and sets up a massive studio for you to work in. The room is fully equipped with every art supply your heart could ever desire. It’s absolutely gorgeous; there’s windows overlooking gardens filled specially with all of your favorite flowers, and skylights littering the ceiling filter in moonlight when you want to work at night. Mori brushes it off as nothing, insisting that artists of your caliber need work spaces that measure up to their skills.

Generally, Mori leaves you be when you’re devoting all your attention to your art, although he’ll whine a bit. After he complains for a few minutes that he deserves your attention just as much as any canvas, he abandons the pursuit of your acknowledgement. Mori’s busy enough that he can occupy himself until you’re ready for him again. He’ll be mopey until you’re back in his arms, though.

There are, of course, exceptions; when Mori’s looking for sex, no amount of charcoal smeared on your hands is going to stop him. He’ll fuck you right against an easel if he has to. In addition, if Elise wants your attention, he’ll stop at nothing to fulfill her demands. Mori will ensure you give the girl what she wants.