#you just let negativity fester inside of you

[pears-trinkets]

.

[ddarker-dreams]

what would make the husband rotation genuinely mad and would they act when theyre mad?? bad vibes for everyone

upsetting chrollo is an arduous endeavor.

he values control, whether it be over himself or others. creating the troupe would've been impossible if he was easily agitated. ironically, by muting his emotions for so long, he's set himself up for failure. when they do escape the fortress he built to contain them, they're wild. their repression drained any civility chrollo pretends to have.

regarding what it takes to get to this point... a third party revealing his criminal affiliations to you would do the trick. especially if the evidence they provide is irrefutable. chrollo isn't naïve, he's always been aware of the possibility. it'd be different if your efforts unmasked his identity. sure, he wouldn't be ecstatic, but he'd feel a hint of pride over your sleuthing capabilities. he almost considers it your right, in a weird way.

this sentiment doesn't extend to another's interference. they've inserted themselves into your relationship and warped your opinion of him. it's a violation, an intrusion. chrollo comes off as unusually detached when this information reaches him. he would've preferred you confront him, so he could control the narrative and do immediate damage control. with that plan dashed, his anger will simmer, until it can scald the one who tainted your perfectly fine relationship.

gojo satoru wants to be the center of your universe.

he's selfish, he isn't content with anything less than you in your entirety. he wants to be your partner, your best friend, your rival and confidant. he's cool with your friends and family (wow thanks gojo), since he knows that ultimately, you're both close in a way few can understand. shoko tells him at point blank that he's overdependent on you. he's aware, he just doesn't care to fix it. he's shameless enough to admit it as much without remorse.

for this reason, should someone capable of exerting influence over you stumble onto the scene, he would not be happy. megumi (kid or teen) remarks that he gets this 'creepy look', like he's pretending to be human. if he released a mere tendril of the cursed energy writhing inside him, it'd be enough to render most sorcerers comatose. his vibes become that abominable.

whether it be a former mentor, childhood friend, or some other role he can't fulfill for you himself — he wants to create as much distance between them and you as possible. fortunately for him, simply being himself is enough to repel most people. gojo inserts himself into your conversations until this person catches the hint. after knowing him for so long, you've grown immune to his questionable boundary crossing. he'll keep at it until they're scared off.

scaramouche gets angry with you for making him fall in love.

had his chest cavity not been empty, he would've clawed his heart out to avoid this harrowing feeling. the timidity, the vulnerability, oh, how he loathes it; loathes you for the spell you've placed him under! this resentment is, in truth, mostly directed at himself. shouldn't he have learned his lesson by now? how many times must he be chewed up and spit out before he stops wandering into the maw of emotional connection? he resolves himself to kill this... whatever it is you both share, before he's dragged through disappointment once again. he'll work himself up into a frenzy, all righteous anger and crackling bitterness—

—then your eyes light up at the sight of him, his name a warm exclamation on your tongue. in an instant, he's pacified, like he'd undergone a lobotomy. what a lovesick fool he is. you won't even let him fester in his negativity, you keep flitting about, earning his undivided attention. it's embarrassing how giddy he is around you (though he hides it beneath snark and condescension). when the interaction ends, he's left torn on what to do. all he knows is that he's running out of excuses to make this your fault.

blade's fury could slice through stars if you were ever hurt.

his mara is voracious until he returns every ounce of your pain tenfold. it's a scene from hell; rivers of blood, shredded limbs, piles of corpses tall enough to be mistaken for towers. in the heat of battle, he occasionally forgets where he is or why he's even doing this. then, all it takes is his mind's eye flashing the image of your face contorted in pain for his mania to blaze anew. you're precious. kind, warm, bestowing care upon him that he hadn't experienced in centuries. annihilation awaited anyone or anything that threatened you. he thinks death is too good for them, but it's the punishment he delivers best.

this explosive rage isn't finite. once his sword is deprived of living prey, he's forced to endure silence. entropy. an all-pervasive thought that you'd be better off with another. he never understood why you blessed him of all people with your affection. upon wiping his weapon clean, his reflection greets him. he scarcely looks human. drenched in viscera, eyes bloodshot and crazed. is this the man you love? what would you think, if you could see him now?

he almost wishes the fury would return. it's preferable to the hollowness he now faces.

[cellophaine]

Chapter VI: OUT

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Negative thoughts due to toxic parents.

Author's Note: Sorry for the late upload! I fell into a rut after the last update, and thought I could make deadline since this chapter is shorter. I hope you will enjoy this little intermission before things kick into gear in the next chapter!

GIF Source: @/roranicuspond

You woke up around noon on the 27th. Disoriented and starved, you rummaged through the cupboards for a quick meal. You scarfed the instant noodles down in silence. There was no taste, only texture processed in your distracted mind, but it was enough to keep your stomach from gurgling. Afterward, you turned your phone on to find missed calls, voice mails, and texts accumulated in a concerning number. Most of them were from Art. His earnest concerns and their urgency burgeoned with each message, and so did your guilt as you read them. Remorse festered and spread through your skin like a cling film as you listened to his voicemails. Art just wanted to know if you were okay, and here you were, not responding.

What could you say? You dwelled on each hypothetical response; you typed them out just to delete them. Your eyes followed the characters as they slowly disappeared, watching each word withdraw itself behind the blinking cursor until you were left with an empty field again. It felt wrong, not reassuring Art, but a part of you believed it was for the best. What would happen if he found out about the real you? What if you hurt him just like how you hurt your family? He should be protected from someone like you.

You sent a short message to Sophie, letting her know that you were okay. Fighting the urge to text Art again, you put the phone face down on the coffee table, ignoring the part of your mind that craved his attention and soothing words. You knew he would know what to say; he would tell you what you wanted to hear. But it was not his responsibility to give you that.

You were still in yesterday's clothes, and the faint smell of sweat was embedded in the soft fabric. Too paralyzed and tired to change, you fell asleep on the couch and woke up a few hours later. The sun had gone down, and the streetlights had gone up, casting its yellowish glow into the darkened apartment. You sat up, your movement slow and sluggish as a splitting headache started to pound in your head. There was an imprint of the cushion on one side of your heated cheek as you wiped the drool off. You reached for your phone, your eyes squinted at the artificial glow and noticed that there was another text from Art.

I'm worried about you. Can you call me?

Ignoring his text again, you returned the phone to the table and diverted your attention to the DVD collection that Ashley owned. After putting on a random movie, you sourced for some snacks, and ended up stuffing your face with chips until your throat parched. The barely processed chips left your body not too long after the movie was over. You hunched over the toilet, dry-heaving into it as your insides twisted and worked itself into a complicated knot. Your body ran hot, yet you couldn't help but shiver. Your body was leaden with fatigue, and all you wanted to do was to indulge in the comfort of your bed. After rinsing your mouth, you dragged your feet to your room and fell into your bed, your body exhausted from the effort.

/

The morning came, and you didn't feel much better. Repulsed by your own smell, you took a quick shower. Droplets of water drenched the back of your cotton shirt as you cleaned the mess from last night. The table was wiped down, the crumbs were swept up, and the dirty dishes were placed in the sink for later. You layered a sweatshirt over what you had on and headed out with the trash bag. After discarding it in the dumpster behind the building, you made your way to the park nearby. Walking along the lake's edge, you shuddered as a cold breeze whispered on your exposed skin. You crossed your arms, snuggling deeper into yourself. The winter here was nothing compared to the one in your hometown. Back home, the cold was biting and cruel, always hungry for any vulnerability. Had it always been that way? Or was it morphed and changed into something you could easily recognize? Your relationship with your parents was bleak and apathetic. It had modified your perception of home with a certain cynicism that was hard to let go of. You were grateful for the warmer weather here. It was a welcoming start.

You found a bench, brushed the fallen leaves off of the cold iron and sat down. The park's vacancy made you feel small and insignificant, yet, at the same time, safe and at peace. Right here, right now, you were no one, and your actions didn't have consequences. You could dwell on the simple act of existing, doing nothing, and that would be fine. You could pretend that in this little pocket of space and time, the outside world ceased to exist. In this undisturbed chasm, you were not suspended in your own mental struggle. You were not the source of your parents' distress. You didn't have to worry about how you were perceived by others, and whatever label they might want to imprint on you didn't matter. You felt a familiar prick in your nose again, and you sniffed hard, hopefully, to stave off the feeling.

Hunger curled in your stomach, reminding you that you hadn't eaten. It was 2:30 PM. You left the park shortly after and stopped by a convenience store. You walked home with a cold-cut sandwich and a soft drink, figuring groceries could wait until tomorrow.

From the gate, you could see a silhouette at the door to your building. The familiar blue scarf hung loosely around the arched neck that you had silently admired on multiple occasions. The dishevelled blond head was bowed, shielding their face from your eyes, but you didn't need a closer look to know. The gate rattled softly, and he perked up. You locked eyes, and your heart seized in your chest. Your name sounded like the sweetest note in his voice. Art stood up and crossed the distance between the gate and the door in a few strikes. You felt the pull as well, but there was a hesitation that slowed your steps. But that didn't stop Art from reaching you. He wrapped you in a tight hug, pressing his body to yours. Your arms hung limply to the sides. His mouth was right next to your ear when he spoke, and you felt his worries deep in the marrow of your bones.

"I've been calling and you haven't answered. I was so worried about you. Are you okay?"

You inhaled deeply, and your senses were filled with Art. The softness of his coat, the solid frame of his body, the warm scent of his skin. You closed your eyes, revelled in his presence, relieved in the comfort you had so desperately needed. There was so much you wanted to say, but they failed to rise above your bewilderment.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Vermont?"

Art pressed you further into himself.

"Yes, but I don't care about that right now. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

At that, he pulled away but still kept you within reach. An incredulous, almost accusatory look was evident as he explained.

"You didn't answer my texts, or calls, or voicemails. Made me think something bad happened to you."

You shook your head vehemently.

"No, nothing happened. I'm sorry that I made you come all this way, but I'm fine."

You tried to step out of his embrace, but his hold on you was unwavering. You braved a smile, your hand patted reassuringly on his forearm.

"You shouldn't be here. You should go back to Vermont and enjoy your vacation with your family."

Art stared at you, and you felt exposed under his gaze. For a long moment, he said nothing. The need to fill in the silence was too much, but you fought against it.

"Did you know that you're not good at lying?"

His voice was low yet piercing. His words mirrored your sister's from a few days before. Your brows furrowed, your eyes strained to keep the tears at bay.

"That's so weird. My sister said the same thing."

Your voice wavered, and your attempt at a smile faltered. Before you could give in, you forced yourself out of Art's hold and beckoned him to follow you.

"Let's go inside."

/

You locked the door behind you while Art looked around the apartment from the entryway, shrugging off his coat and scarf and leaving them on top of his carry-on. You felt relieved that you cleaned the place a little before you left. Art's eyes followed you, and you pretended that you didn't notice that as you put the bag of food on the counter.

"Do you want anything? Water? Food?"

Art followed you to the kitchen.

"No, I don't want anything. I want to know what happened, and why you're here."

You busied yourself with unpacking the small bag. Art came and stood by you so close that you could feel his warmth.

"Come on. Talk to me."

"It's … complicated."

"Then start slowly. From the beginning. Or give me a summary. Anything."

Only then did you turn to look at him.

"Why do you want to know so badly? This doesn't have anything to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me because I care about you. I like you."

His admission was like honey to your tea, making your unjust indignation resolve rapidly. You softened your tone.

"I … I like you, too. That's more of a reason why I shouldn't tell you."

"That's bullshit. If you really liked me, you wouldn't shut me out like this. It's unfair."

"It's not up to you to decide–"

He cut you off, making you swallow the rest of everything that you wanted to say.

"After all this time we've spent together, I feel like you're still hiding yourself from me. Every time I ask about your family, you always turn the question back to me."

Art held both of your hands in his, caressing your skin with his thumb.

"You listened to me when I wanted to vent about my parents. You even came to my match even though you had class. Let me take care of you like you've done with me."

"I had no idea that you felt that way. But … I can't."

You looked away from him, your head dipped to look at the floor, but his gentle grip on your chin made you confront him.

"Why not?"

"I don't deserve it."

"Why not?"

"Because … because …"

The more Art pushed, the less certain you became of your self-perception. Everything your parents had said about you came rushing back, and your mind obeyed their command as if you were still under their authority.

"I'm an ungrateful, awful person who's selfish. I will hurt you."

A faithful verbatim of what you were told. Art's face was a mix of everything, but what stood out the most was a contained anger. For your sake, you supposed.

"Did your parents say that to you?"

You nodded.

"They're wrong."

"And what do you know about me? I think my parents know me much, much better than you do."

"I might not know you the way your parents do, but they don't know you the way I do either."

You exhaled hard, unable to come up with a rebuttal. Deep down, you wanted to believe Art, wanted to believe that there was still at least one good thing about you. Here he was, imploring you to confide in him. And you stopped holding back. The tears came quickly, and steadily. They were hot on your cheeks, but they couldn't compare to the warmth that he enveloped you with. He pulled you into himself, his back bent to be closer to you. You rose on your tiptoes to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Art ran a hand along your spine and woven it into your hair, holding your head where it lay, while the other wound around your waist, anchoring you to him. Even when the sobs reverberated through your frame, he absorbed them, his hold steadfast and strong.

/

After you had calmed down, Art led you to the couch. You told him about what happened. Art listened, not once interrupted you. It was one more person who knew about what you went through, but it was Art. Despite the exposure and sheer vulnerability that you had subjected yourself to, you had never felt safer.

Your eyes drooped, and it started to get harder to disguise your yawn. ARt beckoned you to put your head on his lap, and you didn't fight against it. His hand caressed your hair, drawing all the tension and easing you into a state of repose. You tried to keep your eyes open, so you asked him a question.

"Have you ever felt like … you were an inconvenience to your family?"

His hand slowed on your hair, but it didn't stop. It took him a moment to answer.

"All the time."

Your hand on his knee squeezed, expressing your sympathy.

"Sometimes, I think my parents put me into Mark Rebellato just to get rid of me."

You nuzzled your face against his thigh; the denim felt rough in the right way on your skin.

"I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I don't think you are."

You ended up falling asleep to the feeling of his gentle caress on your hair. Later on, when you were in a different state of consciousness, Art's lap was replaced by a pillow. You faintly heard the sound of dishes running in the kitchen. It was the last thing your head processed before you were pulled back into darkness.

You woke up a while later to the dead silence of the apartment. There was no sound of him. Almost immediately, you were filled with regret and anger for oversharing, for being so carelessly vulnerable to Art, who didn't deserve this burden. You dragged yourself into the kitchen for some water and found that the dishes were cleaned and put away. You felt powerless to a wave of emotions that started to build, and you bit on the insides of your mouth in an attempt to control it. The door to the apartment unlocked, startling you, and Art came through with a bag in hand.

"You're awake."

"You're … back."

You regarded him, your eyes widened in disbelief. He walked around to get to the kitchen, placing the bag on the counter.

"You seem surprised."

Art spared you a look of amusement.

"I thought I sent you running already."

He closed the distance between you and pulled you to him. Art kissed your temple, then placed his chin on your head.

"It'll take much more than that for me to run away."

He let you go, and returned to the bag he brought in with him.

"I bought us some food. I figured you needed something other than that sandwich."

He pointed to the sad plastic box that was still on the counter.

"To be fair, I was planning on doing groceries tomorrow. So, if you could hit the pause on the judgement …"

Every day after that, until school started, you were never apart for too long. Art essentially lived with you and kept you company throughout what would be a lonely week. He showed you his dorm room, which was a neat and clean single. Each day seemed to be better than the last, and it didn't slow down. Life felt like it was yours again. There was a sweet naivety that you possessed, that things could last like this forever as long as you cared for it with all of your heart. But your innocence was the hard-earned lesson that would come back to wreck you.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

For updates, please follow @cellophaine-archives

[minty-drop]

hello there can you do a platonic ford x demon reader

so reader is a demon of negative energy so others would think they are dangerous but nope the reader just spends most of their time nice and calm but also in pillow bases and forts all over the shak when the reader can and ford is just taking notes while it's happening and gets pulled into one of the forts with them.

Platonic ford x demon reader

Warnings: none

Type: headcanon platonic

✎ᝰ. Ford was always naturally a smart and intelligent person. So why in his right mind did he decide to let you stay here in the shack with them? For the research of course.

✎ᝰ. Negative energy is more cosmic then most think, unbounded by the pull of the universe itself, for negative energy simply isn’t emotion. In fact, emotion doesn’t even have to do with the feeding process of these forces of raw energy itself like most would assume from the name itself. A festering pool of dark energy collected in a plain of existence where space bends and time slows. matter not visible to the eye yet so powerful it sucks in anything, similar to how a vacuum cleaner sucks in surrounding dust from the suction force of the machine itself, trapping those particles inside it. A plain of existence far from man’s comprehension. Invisible to all senses until it is too late. To be hunted by creatures that aren’t physically present.

✎ᝰ. Some call them demons, violent creatures of sin and wrath, grasping everything in their claws like a wild animal caged in a chamber of fire. This depiction was far, far from the truth of these extraordinary beings, these beings powerful enough to break through there own worlds boundaries to exceed beyond there own realms in search for something as a shared goal. It was different from a hive mind, far more complex than any.

✎ᝰ. It seemed though you in particular strayed far from that collective mind, having made yourself home cocooned in the plush blanket fort that not so neatly draped blankets over chairs to form its shelter from the ceiling fans light, pillow cases and couch cushions shoved inside the fort itself to finish off the cozy makeshift tent like bed. How odd.

✎ᝰ. The only evidence of your presence was the invisible force picking up the blankets, and draping them around yourself, enjoying staring at the tvs flashing lights and colours that illuminated the room. It was fascinating how you could see the dimension you were in yet, no one could see you. Perhaps you were a higher being, or perhaps your realm was a dimension between the third and fourth? A path way to both ends where the universe is at its thinned string when meeting ends.

✎ᝰ. Perhaps your presence wasn’t entire here, a face of yourself that is projected to interact with the social life of a different realm? To research just like him. Even so. Why insist on him joining you in the tent. You couldn’t feel warmth from the blankets and yet you clung to them, you couldn’t speak to him but continued to gesture with objects around to communicate. Why go through the trouble of it? What was the purpose of it?

✎ᝰ. Though, this wasn’t entirely bad, for this shall be a new opportunity for him. And perhaps for you as well to learn about your realms and each other.

Do not copy and claim my work as your own

[nell0-0]

Writing requests open?? What about Wind doing something that is SO REMINISCENT OF TUNE that Time and Wars start sweating? Or TIME GOING FULL MASK BEHAVIOUR causing Wars to have flashbacks?

I am very in love with your HW-era art, especially with Mask, by the way 💜

Not sure if this 100% fits the request, but hopefully you like it anyways ^^

Main characters: Wind/Tune & Time/Mask

Wind was biting his tongue. It could be barely seen between his teeth, peeking out the slightest bit. Sitting down on a log as he was, back teetering dangerously back and forth from exhaustion, it was a tad concerning.

Or it would be if Time wasn’t already familiar with such a sight. Legend could keep sending the sailors all the sneaky worried glances he wanted, and Wild could try to cook as many of the sailor’s favorite dishes as he could with the ingredients he had, but none of it would make much of a difference.

The long walks had been hard on the sailor, and that summed up with chasing down the latest batch of black blooded monsters from Twilight’s time, the shift to Sky’s era and the subsequent series of favors they completed for the people of Skyloft (which Wild insisted in calling side-quests, Farore knows why), had been taking a toll. Not only on the sailor, of course, as Four could also be seen on the edge of camp laying on top of his bedroll, completely knocked out for the night.

In short, it wasn’t a surprising sight for Time. Wind biting his tongue, the back and forth rocking and the restless ears, flopping up and down without apparent rhythm. It was one of Tune’s tells regarding deep exhaustion.

For a hero used to adjusting his posture to the rocking of the waves, long hours spent looking at the horizon with nothing in sight, this particular adventure was draining. Then again, it was one of Tune’s tells, not Wind’s. Even though they were the same person, it was only in the way that Mask and Time had once been one in the same. That was probably why the others were concerned.

Casting a quick look in Warrior’s direction, the captain didn’t seem to notice anything odd. Probably not realizing this was something out of the ordinary for Wind, since it was so normal to see from Tune. So, since the captain was out, it was up to Time.

Getting up with creaking knees that made Hyrule snicker, Time walked towards the sailor, dropping to the ground next to the log in which Wind sat.

“Hey.”

Goddesses, Time cringed internally. An accomplished warrior he may be, but casual conversation was not his forte.

“Hey there.”

Then again, not that it mattered if Wind was so out of it to not notice.

The thought of getting Legend’s ice rod to see if Wind’s peeking tongue would stick to the icy orb did cross Time’s mind. The reaction would have been priceless, all wide eyes and betrayed looks. Time could picture it. He was quick to discard it.

After all, a prank like that would lose effectiveness if it was expected. Tune’s reaction had been so memorable he still remembered vividly to this day.

“You want to talk about whatever has you down?”

A grunt. A negative, then. Not that it surprised Time, he had been expecting this kind of response.

Rummaging through his pack, he looked consideringly at some loose parchment, then thought again and grabbed one of his newer journals, with barely a name (which they shared, so it wouldn’t be an issue) and a little log of the last couple of time jumps.

After some time just letting the silence fester, Time asked again, just to get the same negative response. Plan b, then.

In the end, Time passed the journal and some ink to Wind, who looked at them uncomprehending.

“Here, take it.”

Little hands did take the items, peeking tongue retreating to the insides of the mouth as downturned lips showed confusion.

“It helps sometimes, to draw instead of talk. If you’re too tired, or just don’t want to talk, then doodle some.”

“I’m not a little kid.”

The indignation would have been endearing if it wasn’t funny as hell, because he had said those exact same words to Tune all those years ago (or to come. It was a matter of perspective. Time magic was confusing like that).

“I know.” Time patted the cover of the leatherbound journal pointedly. “I use them too, and I’m grown up, aren’t I?”

That got a laugh. A win on Time’s book.

“Grown? More like old.”

With a fond smile, Time messed Wind’s hair, who protested the treatment heavily. And yet, the weight against his hand increased, seeking contact and reassurance, as Time knew it would.

“Here, let me show you some of my doodles.”

And when Wind criticized how badly Time drew everything BUT horses, the man shrugged.

“Take it up with the guy who taught me to draw in the first place if you’re so bothered.”

“And how the hell am I supposed to do that? I probably won’t even met him, ever!”

“Oh, believe me, you will.”

Years later-ago-somewhen, when there was a war that included different time periods, fought over a hero that wasn’t supposed to awaken so soon yet had to, with two displaced kids holding the same sacred title as the captain, a certain sailor had a realization.

He looked down at his hands in horror, then up towards the sky in despair as he yelled.

“Oh my goddesses, I can’t believe that-that-“

Mask pouted scowled, used by now to the antics but no less inconvenienced.

“Are you gonna teach me to draw Epona or not?”

“Shut it, this is your fault in the first place!”

“Sure” Mask shrugged, wanting the dramatics to be over with. The chances of it working were slim, but never zero. At least it would speed it up. Hopefully.

“On my pride as an artist, you will learn how to draw something else other than horses, that I swear!”

Mask sighed. “Okay. But Epona first.”

Mask never ended up learning to draw anything else other than horses during the two years that followed that interaction.

[daistea]

Hey, so. I wanted to ask about the interpretation of pre-Dungeon Lord Mithrun as being very catty and Regina George-like. Personally, and I've got no problems with it, I'm just really curious where it comes from, but I don't get that read. He was catty and petty and all sorts of unpleasant, but Misril essentially confirms that he kept it all inside because he seemed so perfect and his Dungeon was some great surprise to her. Built on lies and jealousy and inferiority but she had no idea whatsoever. He was festering in silence, I think, and all that ugliness was tucked inside. He was scrambling. Probably imagining himself as alone and unique in his ugliness and failing to speak truthfully about his feelings because he must've been taught that ugly things - like affairs and disabled brothers? - are to be hidden. You're something else before you're a person, so you must be nice and kind and good and emblematic of that. And it isn't as if I was raised in any position of power, but royal houses can be sort of emblematic of that kind of repression of personality, where being small and quiet and smooth and obedient is "good personhood". He was revealed as a mean drunk, but that's about it. Truly, I think catty Mithrun is comfortable Mithrun, so I like to imagine that post-Dungeon Mithrun is the catty one. I think it's funny to imagine our relationship, as it were, and imagine people watching with him and judging people for the fun of it. It's not personal or to feel better or anything. It's just because, and he says some truly out of pocket shit, and I'm there, a little reprimanding, like, "Oh my God! You can't just say that..." and I'm looking at him. And he's looking at me without saying anything. An eyebrow raised. My expression cracks. I look away and snort. "God," I say again. "Oh my God. Yeah. Okay. Fine." Laughingly, "Uh... That's the tackiest, brightest jacket I've ever seen in my life. It is disgustingly offensive. My eyes are practically burning. Is that it?" And he smiles a little. Barely there. And I groan and lightly smack his shoulder. "Is that what you wanted to hear?" He shrugs, "Was it honest?" "Yeah. I mean, I'm exaggerating for the fun of it all, but..." I shudder. "God, it's horrible," and then maybe I get into it, like the minutiae of opinions. Being very opinionated. "And it's worse because not even badly shaped! It'd be fine if it was, like, a simple black coat or something. The texture looks okay, but it has the worst patterning, the worst shapes and colors and—!" And he's laughing out loud. Holding his hands on his stomach, because I've gone full into gesturing and I'm getting so heated about a stupid coat that doesn't even matter, but it's fun! It's amazing. We're having a great time, and I'm laughing, too, because it's silly and it doesn't matter and I'm happy like this. We both are. He frowns a little, and goes, "Okay, what about that shirt?" and making his own statements, like "Ugh. That gold looks like vomit", and we play off eachother, like "Ough. Yeah, and that red with that shade is so bright." I raise my eyebrows. "Evocative." Mithrun hums. "Blood and vomit," he nods. "Ew." We look at eachother and shake our heads sort of sagely. And then I crack first. I almost always break first.

Ye when we joke about pre-dungeon Mithrun being catty, it’s more like he’s catty on the inside. He’s canonly critical and judgmental and angry in his own mind, but I think he also genuinely loves his friends. He just can’t help but be a negative nelly in his head bc insecurity and whatnot. I think if pre-dungeon Mithrun was especially close to someone, close enough to let his true nature show(which would be incredibly rare) then he’d express those thoughts outwardly. But in secret. Nobody realizes he’s catty, but he is. Because he’s passive aggressive and fake lol

I do think post-dungeon Mithrun is a jerk too, but he has no reservations about expressing it anymore because he has no desire to keep up appearances. He doesn’t dislike his old self because his old self was mean, he dislikes his old self because he just automatically dislikes himself in any form. And even then I think that’s subconscious. When he corrects Kabru and basically says ‘no I wasn’t perfect at all’ he’s just stating a fact. He has very little feeling on the matter other than resentment towards his own actions and emotions that led him to the demon and subsequent trauma.

I think Misiril prob taught him that being relatively polite gets him places, it keeps everybody around him from wanting to leave. And if they left then he wouldn’t have the necessary manpower to defeat the demon. So if he makes the decision to keep certain thoughts to himself, it’s either because it’s easiest/out of habit/to prevent an obstacle in his quest. I mean obviously he still says outlandish crap (“Inferior species.” “CAPTAIN THATS RACIST!”) but I think that’s because he knows it wont really matter in the long run in those cases, so he just says whatever’s on his mind without a care of how it sounds.

But yeah post-canon Mithrun would probably be way more relaxed. If he’s with someone he’s close to, he’d point out an ugly shirt. I wouldn’t call him catty, because there’s no passive aggressive-ness there. He’s just blunt. His old self would have an absolute heart attack because iTS NOT PROPER STOP IT YOURE GOING TO MAKE PEOPLE HATE YOU!!!

The juxtaposition between his past and present is so interesting. They’re like two different people, so different but still similar in some ways. Hmm

[kit-williams]

Can you imagine yandere Perturabo and yandere Lion?

Yes I can! Trying my best to not let my Perty Bias get the better of me!

Yandere Perturabo might do better with a darling... might be able to stop that man from death spiraling via negative thoughts but that's a big might. Oh he's very particular about his darling (just as equally as Konrad might be now that I think about it) but the poor darling who takes a look at something he made and has that meme moment of "shut up I'm experiencing child like wonder" it then becomes priority number one to grab you. Which really shouldn't be hard... doesn't even have to get his sons to help depending on their station a simple order too but Perturabo is also mischievous (hasn't been in awhile but there are traces of his mischievous personality that he once had before he became really bitter) I can see him also just being some sort of secret admirer if he doesn't feel the need to snatch them up right away. To watch the smile blossom on their face whenever they get a gift or spying them showing it off with glee. He might start leaving hints on who the sudden admirer is... he rather you walk into the pretty little enclosure he's made verses having to throw you in... after all you wear those pretty delicately made iron bangles so nicely he'd hate to have to leash you up to make you stay.

Yandere Lion is as I have always said about him... he is a beast in the shape of a man where Russ is a man in the shape of a beast. Lion would see something or rather in this case someone who tickles something on the inside of him and he would feel that want. What people think he should have verses what he wants are very different... he doesn't want a wilting little thing under him... he wants his pretty little feline under him to also hiss and bite back as he mates... and breeds. Perhaps he figures a one and done might get it out of his system... scratch that itch verses letting it fester and become annoying. Oh but he'll find out you're like catnip and he can't keep you away... no one is telling him that he cannot bite... he cannot mark... no one but himself but those moans under him just only encourage it. Oh yes if he does go for trying you out to get the desire out of his system he will quickly find out that is rather impossible and you just have to accept your fate... Oh yes I still see this applying for both a young 30k Lion as well as a 40k Lion, who feels even less inclined to play the courtly games. But yes... don't worry too much about what's going on and where you're going let him just let you feel good and just worry about bearing him cubs.

(I really couldn't resist with the cat puns) ((I'm so sorry))

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog @thevoidscreams @barn-anon

[beegalactica]

the it girl's guide to handling rejection

So the one thing that could possibly go wrong finally did... What now?

You put yourself out there; you went for that person, you applied for that opportunity, you tried that thing that had been on your mind for ages, and it didn't work out. Maybe you feel upset with the world and wonder why it always has to be YOU that misses out, or maybe you internalise it all and completely think that it's definitely your fault. Sometimes it is hard to accept how things happen in life because we feel like we were so close, like it could've been us, but ultimately it wasn't because we weren't 'good enough'.

As humans, we always feel the need to be in control of every little thing in our lives, so when something doesn't work out as planned, we ask ourselves: "What did I do wrong? Why not me?". Rejection is a part of life. You are worth so much more than just settling and accepting the bare minimum because you may be desperate, so that's why you don't get that guy or that job.

It's all because there is a greater movement happening in your life that you can't see. After all, you're just hyper-focusing on this one specific aspect. Bigger things are happening for you than you can ever imagine, and if you settle or get complacent where you are right now, you won't be driven to seek out that greater thing, and you won't get to experience it.

You know that it's all supposed to get better. You know that the pain will stop one day and you'll forget all about it, but before you get to that point, it's so hard to even think about it when you feel so negative in the present moment. You just feel this tightness in your chest and it feels like you can't breathe, but I promise you, you will breathe again.

Here are some ways to navigate rejection instead of letting it break down the person that you are:

Cry, yell, do whatever you need to do: the worst thing you can do is let it fester inside until it eats you up. Talk out loud - let yourself truly hear what it is that you feel. It hits you so much harder when you hear yourself be so upset, but acknowledgement is the first step.

Write about it: I will always be the biggest advocate for journaling but this doesn't even have to be formal in any way. Open your notes app and just dump whatever it is that's on your mind. Save It with just the date as the title and one day, maybe in the next week, month or even years, when you feel so much better, you'll be able to look back on that note and have so much proof in your life that you got over it.

Think about what's next: You went out of your way and did that thing, even if it didn't end up the way you would have liked. What are you going to do now to move on? It's better to think about what's next, after having done it anyway, than spend the rest of your life wondering what if.

Always remember to take a step back and express gratitude for the place that you are, even when it feels like there is nothing to be grateful for. The fact that you woke up today is a blessing, even if you spent the whole day in bed. You're not going to be upset one day and magically be perfectly fine the next day, it WILL take time, but it is possible. Just as it is possible for 'bad' things to happen, it is more than possible for amazing things to happen to you and I know that they will.

take care of yourself 💗

[silverryu25]

i would love to see sci-fi day 6 star wars with the prompt “Have you forgotten how it all ended last time?” :)

Nonny... I have so little knowledge of Star wars but... this kinda hit a plot bunny so I hope you like! XD

DAY 6 - Star Wars + “Have you forgotten how it all ended last time?”

Tag warnings: implied suicide (briefly and in a "I should have done it" way)

---------------

It was peaceful.

Nothing was happening today. Just like yesterday. And the day before. And before that.

It's been years, though it felt like eons, since anything changed here. No one ever came to this place, not since he got here and made it his home. His aura permeated into the ground and the air, making it inhospitable to anyone and anything.

It was exactly what he wanted.

What he deserved.

What he imposed on himself.

But today... today he felt the emptiness. It slithered into his thoughts, his mind feeling as if it was crawling with his past sins. He could even feel them crawling down his back, making him feel restless. So instead of meditating or just trying to sleep through the fog of negativity that enveloped him, he decided to expend some energy.

The loneliness and emptiness was replaced by rage as he swung his lightsaber.

The flashes of red spread all around him, digging into the piles of old abandoned wreckage of AT-AT walkers, AT-ST transports, cloud cars, AAT's, AAC-1's and many, many more. A graveyard left after many battles. Abandoned to rot and decay, just like he was. Just like he earned through his own stupidity and greed.

Now here he was, adding to that destruction. If he let himself think deeper about his actions he might have realized how symbolic the destruction he was spreading around him was to what he was doing to his own mind and soul. But he didn't. He never did. Thinking would mean acknowledging the guilt that festered in his soul and that would break him because he would have to think about.............

With a roar of rage he swung his lightsaber, splitting the largest piece of wreckage in front of him. He continued swinging until he couldn't anymore. Until all his energy was depleted and all he could do was fall on his knees and pant. Breath coming in harsh desperate gulps, air his body didn't really need to live but his mind needed to drown out his own thoughts.

He wouldn't let himself think.

He couldn't let himself think.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans for him

Just as his breathing stilled and he started focusing on the rage that he forced to burn inside himself, he felt it. A stab in his soul, as sharp as a lightsaber slashing through his ribs and directly into his corrupted soul.

Dread. Fear. Guilt. Fear. Anger. Fear. Hate. Fear. Longing. Fear. Desperation. Fear. Need. Fear. Lo- Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear.

He could feel his eyelights extinguish as the fear took over everything else. He was spiraling so fast, so hard, so completely, that he didn't even notice the soft footsteps making their way slowly towards his kneeling form from the back.

The soft taps of slippered feet felt like hammer strikes into his soul.

He wanted to flee, but he couldn't. His legs wouldn't move. Wouldn't lift him from the desolate ground he deserved to dust into.

Then they stopped and there was only silence left.

Silence except for the rush of his magic into his skull. It was screaming fear to him.

'run away!' His mind screamed at him. 'hide! don't let him see you! don't let him see what you became'!

But he couldn't.

The silence stretched forever, neither of them moving. Neither of them wanted to speak first. Neither of them knew exactly what to say. He didn't know how much longer his soul could take this silence, how much longer he could keep himself from falling apart. Or worse.

Thankfully, mercifully, the other spoke first.

'red.' His tone was gentle but carried the weight of Red's world in it.

Red felt his whole body shiver from that one word as it came from his mouth. It was like lightning struck his very soul, making his whole body quake. It was time...

"heh," his voice cracked, he hadn't used it for anything but screaming in rage for years. "yer finally 'ere."

There wasn't an answer, only calm silence and cool refreshing magic combined with a powerful force washing over Red's frame.

"wha'? not gonna talk ta me before ya finish me off?" Red barely kept his voice from cracking. "ya changed sans."

The name felt so sweet as it left his teeth, even as bile rose behind them at the implication of his own words. Sans was here to do the one thing Red couldn't make himself do. The one thing Red should have done to atone for his crimes. The one thing he should have done to save Sans from himself. He should have ended it before Sans had to dirty his hands.

There was no reply and Red didn't expect any.

So he just sat there, accepting.

Waiting for the final blow that would free him of this horrid world that took the only thing that he ever truly loved from him. The one thing he was cursed to love but not have. The only thing that made living worth it but was forbidden to him.

Waiting for Sans to end their curse forever.

Waiting for his final judgment for daring to love.

Love wasn't allowed for a Jedi. It would consume them. But Red was weak, he let love enslave him, let it make him want more than he was allowed. It was a crack in his soul that left him open to his inevitable fall into the dark side.

Red loved Sans and he would love to die by his hands.

He waited for the sound of the lightsaber, for that gorgeous blue glow to shine from his back and stab through his soul.

Instead, a pair of skeletal arms grabbed him from the back and pressed him into a bony chest.

He froze in place, unable to process what was happening.

The warmth from the embrace felt both incredibly painful and wonderfully familiar. He could feel his magic gathering on the edges of his eyesockets. Was Sans trying to torture him before he ended it? He wasn't that cruel before, but Red definitely deserved it after everything he had done.

Suddenly, he felt Sans' body shake as it pressed impossibly closer, hugging him even tighter. Was Sans... crying?

"s-swe-," Red almost slipped up, but he wasn't allowed to call Sans pet names, not anymore. "sans?"

All he got in return was an unintelligible mumble from the teeth pressed into his shoulder.

"wha'?"

"..." Sans moved his head to the side, facing away from Red. "you idiot."

"...?" Red was too stunned by the emotion in Sans' voice. What was happening?

"why did you leave?!"

"wha'?" Red tried turning around, but the arms around him held him firmly in place. "wha' da ya mean? ya know what i did an-"

Sans grabbed his shoulders at a speed not even Red could keep up with and twisted him around. Their feet tangled as Red's body was twisted and Red fell backward, Sans landing on top of him, still holding his shoulders. Their faces were close. Too close.

"i don't care about that!" Sans yelled and Red's sockets snapped wide open. He never saw Sans yell before. "why did you leave me behind you moron?!"

Silence followed Sans' question as they both stared at each other. Sans' eyelights dug holes in Red's, emotions Red didn't think he would ever see in them burning like two supernovas.

It didn't feel real.

“sans," Red was almost sure he was hallucinating. "have ya forgotten how it all ended last time?”

Instead of a reply, Sans glared at Red, eyelights burning impossibly hot with an emotion Red would never have dreamed he would see in those beautiful white eyelights. But before Red could fully process what he was seeing, Sans leaned down and pressed his teeth to Red's.

A spark of magic spread from the contact and through Red's whole body. He could feel his own magic and force ignite. His whole body felt as if it was burning. As if it was alive again.

The moment Sans pulled back Red let out a whine. It wasn't enough. He needed more.

"i don't care." Sans breathed out, before he closed the gap between them again and deepened the kiss.

It felt magical.

It felt unreal.

It felt like a lie.

But Red didn't care. 

Reality could go fuck itself.

Sans was here and Red would never let him go.

---------------

This got a bit long >.>

For anyone confused about what the hell is going on (cause I have no idea how clear I managed to make it ^_^;;;): Red was a Jedi, he fell in love with Sans, the dark side noticed and used that love to get Red to work for them. Red did some very bad things for the Sith... but when he ended up in a battle where he almost hurt Sans he ran away. And hid on an abandoned planet. But Sans found him >:3

Hope you like this! And I hope I didn't butcher the Star Wars lore too bad XD

[toons-and-doom]

Dandy’s DreamWorld

I came up with this like last night when I was very tired so everything is subject to change or not make sense

So when you sleep, you enter this dream realm where all your woes and worries can disappear for awhile! The whole realm is maintained by the postive emotions of the residents, so the general goal is to stamp out nightmares and negative emotions for the time being until they wake up!

It’s controlled by four (5?) main entities who sorta spawned into existence at the same time(sprout MAY be added later when he comes out-).

Dandy, the leader, some sort of sun themeing; the leader of the gang! He’s sorta nightmare control. He either tries to make nightmares less scary by reminding folks of things or wakes them up and ejects them from the dream realm.

Astro is the most powerful, considering he has influence of the dream worlds the vistors inhabit for their brief stays. He shapes the realms to make them as comfortable as they can be.

Shelly manages memories! She kinda happens in the background organizes your memories for the next day! She can suppress a memory if it’s bothering you in the dream world. She also extracts the happiness of the memories to feed the dream world (don’t worry, you don’t lose the memories or the joy they bring you)

Vee is sorta the watcher. Observes the realm and notifies the others of any problems! I’d imagine she literally has eyes everywhere.

Pebbles makes sure dreamers don’t accidentally interact in dreams, as this often causes confusion- not what they’re looking for!

Things were good for awhile! But uh, dandy got curious about the nature of nightmares, and uh, he learned nightmares are produced by this substance called nightmares fuel.

He decides to collect it from realms which means letting nightmares fester, brining negative emotions to the realm. Dandy keeps all the nightmare fuel in a giant glass reserve, he experiments with it sometimes. This causes a overal decrease in stability of the dream world, and eventually the others find out and confront dandy.

This leads to a massive argument! And uh oh! The reserve accidentally gets broken and nightmare fuel floods the entire dream realm!

In the process, dandy, Vee, Shelly, and pebble kiiiiinnnddddaaaa get fucked up and corrupted by the substance. Astro fortunately is able to resist his corruption, and in a panic, seals them off into the deepest part of the dream realm, far under everything else.

Then it occurs him now his job is now a lot harder as the sole guardian of the dream realm now.He isn’t sure how to deal with the nightmare fuel which has spread across the realm, infecting the realms and HEAVILY tipping the overal happiness in the realm.

Not wanting the realm to fall apart + concerned with how such an influx of nightmare fuel will affect someone when they wake up. Astro does the VERY logical thing (sarcastic. But In his defense tho he just lost his friend and stressed out) and puts the dream realm on lockdown. Nothing can get in, but nobody can get out. This means the folks who were dreaming at the time cannot wake up (aka, our dear toons)

Astro proceeds to surpress the nightmare fuel inside the realms. To prevent homesickness and prevent further negative emotions he surpresses the memories the toons have of the real world. The toons just sorta think this is how life has always been. Their days are blissful at least.

Boom some time passes, Astro is trying and failing to get everything together, and the toons are blissfully unaware of their situation. The condition of the dream realm slowly crumbles. So does Astro as the stress and nightmare fuel he was exposed to begin to get to him.

…

Things begin to slip through, memories, horrors. . . The seals are beginning to break.

Suddenly the toons are remembering things and realizing their realms aren’t real. Plus, these nightmarish versions of themselves are beginning to hunt them.

So

Basically the toons main goals are

- get out of their respective realms

- Avoid these nightmare (‘twisted’ versions of themselves)

- Find fellow dreamers

- Find out WHY they can’t wake you up

- GTFO.

- (Later they decide to try and restore the dream realm)

~~~~~

Other notes I wasn’t sure how to explain

- The twisted are those corrupted/created by nightmare fuel. Its defeat able but it requires one to face their fears. The nightmares feast on fear.

- ^ the twisted versions of the toons are built of their forgotten memories and fears. They want to trap their ‘copies’ and feed of their fear forever! (I’d imagine each is based on a phobia or a fear.)

- The ‘realms’ toons inhabit are separate from one another. Their only exists are these doors which appear in random locations.

- ^ each realm is inspired by liminal space!

- All the toons sorta have a pastel pj theme going on- but I’d imagine their colors become more saturated once they realize they’re dreaming.

- Astro is barely holding it together man his ass is tweaking 💔

If you have questions I love to yap so feel free

Sorry if it doesn’t make sense-

[swmmi-kti]

New people and New feelings (pt 3)

Kyojuro Rengoku x Fem! Flower Hashira Reader

CW: ANGST LIKE SERIOUSLY

Synopsis: You are the New Flower Hashira. Which comes with a lot of new feelings.

Pt 1 , PT 2 , PT4

Shinobu heard you out. Color her surprised at nearly loosing another hashira to one of their own.

She couldn't help but laugh. Not at your near death experience but...just how much she seemed to like you actually.

"My my...it is quiet a predicament. But why on earth would you tell Kyojuro to never speak with you"

You felt flustered. There were multiple reasons. Mostly the main one is because you had though Shinobu hated you. But seeing as how she seems so calm with you. Its...a little silly.

"Uhm...well, it's a little embarrassing but....I has thought you hated me. And when he practically dragged me to your infirmary i...I wasn't pleased to say the least"

She frowned a little. Her expression gentle despite her burning rage as she nodded "I understand. But I do not hate you"

"I am aware now...but even so now then, kyojuro made his decision...and I rather not talk to him for other reasons too"

There were feelings there things that you just couldn't figure out yet. But one things for sure. Kyojuro was the cause of it all, Inner turmoil ate you up.

What ever small tremor threatened to eat up your soul and you couldn't describe it as hatred. Indifference perhaps?

"...Ever since joining up with you guys there's been nothing but a nagging confusion with Kyojuro specifically" You admit finally

"and...could you elaborate?"

"I admire all of you, trust my words on that. I admire Gyomei and his strength. The ever growing compassion he seems to carry with him and the anger he seems to hide. Sanemi and Obanai i guess you can say im indifferent to but i still admire what they do...Mitsuri and i hang out so frequently i guess you can say i just. She's my best friend" You begin and watch as she pauses you with her hand

"and...Regoku?" She asks a bit tepid and like she's almost expecting a certain answer.

You bite your lip. gnawing over lips and the ever living turmoil in your mind. You never could place why you couldn't think of the word for the feelings you felt for him.

Nor do you really care for him...not like you care about everyone else and you couldn't tell why.

"I...Don't know? I obviously care for him just as a colleague but i never thought more of him? Its complicated, i don't hate him"

"But you don't like him?"

Like him? You think as you let your mind wonder just a little bit. His presence was comforting, how his voice seems to lift you up. It felt nice to have someone like that.

The world around you was very harsh and cruel you'd be a fool to say it wasn't good to have someone around like that, To lift up anyone's spirits, Its the greatest skill anyone could have.

"i " You pause again as you chew on the inside of your cheek. How can you answer? on One hand you just can't stand him but why?

And on the other....You know well in your own heart the ever beating tune of falling in love.

How exactly can you describe that feeling? Is there even a word for what you feel? Can there be a word for it?

"It's hard hmm?" Shinobu speaks breaking your inner thoughts and fighting off what negativity may fester in your mind.

"It's not...I don't think there is a word to describe the feelings or the thoughts i have on that man. Shinobu i came into this field expecting my life to stay on the same path as always. Train, save lives and survive i didn't come here to make life long relationships i knew one way or another one of us could die" You admit

Fiddling with your

"Life i guess never goes how you plan. And its Tough on my own feelings to think of something more. A future where everyone lives where we defeat muzan" You admit as you look at the wind pick up.

It Smells sickly sweet of nectar but you know more than that. "I guess im scared of admitting all i feel for the sole fact that i know the world wont let me have it"

Shinobu nod's she knows all to well its beyond mere human comprehension what she knows now. Life is frail, it can and be snatched away from anyone else. She knows.

"Yes it seems life can be unpredictable but the only way to make life a little more worth it is admit things we don't want" She interludes as she looks at you once more with that smile she always wears. but it appears genuine "You like him? A lot dont you?"

You hated being read like an open book but regardless you nodded.

You could say a lot about him how he makes you so mad sometimes. How he makes you happy when ever he doesn't know "Yeah...i suppose i do"

Shinobu nodded as the wind picks up again. The sweet smell soured by the cawing of a crow... a kasugai crow .

Both of you stand up as Kaname.....Kyojuro's crow, Dread filled your nerves. As you extended a hand and watched as he landed on your hand tears in his eyes. . .

Kyojuro Rengoku...is dead

Taglist: @kenqki

[amuseoffyre]

There's something poetic about the way Stede and Ed's journeys in S1 and S2 are cycling around each other. They're circling in towards a point where they will meet as themselves, but right now, they've both come in with so many preconceptions and illusions of who and what they are within their own worlds and each others.

Ed aspires to a better life and believes that Stede has that with his all his quirky, fun, weird little things ("you got it all figured out"). He willfully chooses to ignore why a rich man might actually find some kind of comfort and safety in the world of piracy, convinced by the end of S1 that it was all about Bonnet's playthings and that "we were just playing pirates".

He doesn't hear Stede when Stede says he "very much does know" what it feels like to be treading water, waiting to drown, because to him, Stede is something he wants to be. He doesn't see the flaws and the cracks and the trauma underlying it all.

Likewise, Stede does get to meet Ed as Ed first and foremost, but when he finds out he's Blackbeard, there is a kind of fanboy joy about just how cool and fascinating and brilliant his idol is.

Even though Ed tells him how he's struggling, the fact that Ed keeps on mentioning that it's boring is the thing that Stede latches onto. He does the treasure hunt to keep Ed from getting bored, he shows him things to spark his interest and entertain him.

They both get a storyline where they get to cross the streams and experience each other's world: Ed gets to be Jeff the Accountant in a fancy party ship and Stede becomes the Legendary Gentleman Pirate in the Republic. In both situations, it seems perfect and fun and fantastic, but the shine comes off and the issues are still there, simmering beneath, and never get addressed.

And the thing is that is makes perfect sense for both of them to squash down all the stuff that's actually bothering them. For Ed, being vulnerable is a danger, it's showing your belly to someone who may be an enemy, it's baring your throat and in a world where trust is a rare commodity, he absolutely does not trust anyone.

He says himself he only ever told one person about killing his dad and even then, it only came on the back of being triggered into a horrendous panic attack and Stede coming after him to comfort him (and hoooee, that speaks a lot for Ed going after Stede in 2x06). He's suppressed it and contained it and lets it sit there and fester, layers of scar tissue and self-loathing forming over it.

It's also why he sits with his issues on his own, talks to the people who have been around him the longest and makes his decision on his own. He is used to operating as a single entity without having to take into consideration how his actions and decisions impact on other people. He's only just learned how to take accountability for his actions like 2 days ago.

Stede, on the other hand, has told no one anything about what's going on inside his head. When we have the flashbacks with his father, we can see why: every time he expressed an opinion about his thoughts and wishes and ideas, he was shot down. By the time he was married off, he has learned to couch his negative reactions in passive statements instead of saying exactly what he's feeling.

And even when his past is brought up, like when Nigel brings up the story of the rowboat, he tries to brush it off and pretend he doesn't know what they're talking about. He prefers to bottle up the guilt, shame and inadequacy he feels and keep them locked away because he's spent a lifetime being ridiculed for his feelings and emotions and expressing them with the risk of being shot down in flames terrifies him.

He did express himself directly once in S1: his rant about drinking and being pelted by coconuts and not liking Ed when he's like this and the same day, Ed chose to leave him, so he doubles down.

We see him trying to maintain the facade that he's doing well, even in the letters he writes to Ed. Everything is about how they're getting on and that he hopes to see him, but when it all falls apart, the negative emotions are only addressed to the Wanted poster.

It's very telling that he only confides in a handful of people about how he's feeling across both seasons and they are Mary, Zheng and Anne. Mary, it comes on the back of a murder attempt. Zheng, it comes after he's told the crew got rid of Ed. And Anne it's when he and Ed are still butting emotional heads and it takes that forced hand to make him actually come out and express his real emotions to Ed for the first time in person.

There's something poignant about them both trying to find their way to this idea of the man they love, but both being so caught up in the illusion they've built around them that they go straight past them.

Ed has become what Stede was in S1: the man who dropped his entire life, his partner, his family and his world to go and follow a career he has no experience of because it feels safer than where he is right now. And Stede has become exactly what he thought he needed to be, to be worthy of Ed: a fearsome legendary pirate in all the ways he criticised Ed in 1x06.

"I don't like who you are around this guy," he says about Ed when he's in Jack's company, and Ed tells him "This is who I am. This is me" and now, Stede has become that. He's emulated that. This is who Ed said he is. Only he finds Ed, giddy and accepted and finally, finally considering himself Ed's equal, and Ed tells him "I don't know who I am" and leaves him.

They've been so caught up in their perceptions of this idea of who their partner is that they haven't actually looked beneath the the facade.

And a big part of the problem is that neither of them know who they are. They know who they're 'meant' to be according to the society around them and the people who shaped them ("nothing but a weak-handed, soft-hearted, lily-livered little rich boy" and "not those kind of people"). They know who they've been told to be.

Before they can go any further, they need to figure themselves out and what that means for them and their relationship with each other.

[killugon-truther]

“gon didn’t even know kite for very long/that well.” [hxh CAA analysis]

one criticism i’ve seen a few ppl have abt gon during his actions during the CAA is that he didn’t know kite for very long or very well, and so it doesn’t make sense that gon would have lost himself so quickly and entirely.

and ofc it’s fine for ppl to have this opinion, but i disagree, bc i feel like it’s a blatant simplification and misunderstanding of gon’s character, what his development during the CAA was rly caused by, and what it meant; this is what this analysis is abt.

while it’s true that gon didn’t know kite for very long or very well, that’s not really relevant when it comes to what’s affecting gon so deeply.

firstly, let’s not forget that kite saved him from a foxbear mother who was trying to protect its cub all those years ago. and when they meet again years later, he saves him & killua (along w killua pushing him out of the way) from an ant that was nearby.

while these scenes can be easy to gloss over, they’re also both definitely important, esp the first save; i believe gon idolized kite the moment he did, cementing him as a “golden figure” in his life/mind, and why wouldn’t he? he was a very little boy who was in life-threatening danger and then was swiftly saved right before anything fatal could occur.

at the same time, he was negatively affected by kite’s actions and words (but more his words than anything), which were to punch and chastise him bc his own ignorance has caused kite to have to take the life of a creature’s life. i believe that this, along w gon alr feeling abandoned by ging (ik gon often plays it off well, but i feel like he’s been displaying he’s insecurities surrounding that since the beginning), the other “golden figure” in his mind/life, encouraged his feelings of weakness and lack of self esteem.

those feelings of admiration of kite, probably thinking “wow, he’s so cool and strong!” and feelings of disappointment towards himself, probably thinking “and i must be anything but”, had been festering inside of him for years, the same way the effects of ging’s abandonment had. from the beginning, gon has felt the need to prove himself using his own strength, or else he’s weak and unworthy; it’s a dangerous and destructive cycle born from his black-and-white mindset.

the same way gon blamed himself for kite’s death, he blamed himself for the mama foxbear’s death. if he had known better, if he had been stronger, then that animal wouldn’t have had to die bc of him. kite wouldn’t have died bc of him.

so, basically, it’s not just kite dying that set gon off, it’s how it made him feel abt himself; personal insecurities and doubts that he alr had since early in the series began to bubble and overflow before eventually erupting entirely.

secondly, as i mentioned before, kite and ging are gon’s “golden figures”: the mentors he admires, the ppl he sees as being sm above him, and he needs to reach them in order to be worth what we wants to do in the first place, his over-arching life goal; successfully meeting ging. to him, kite’s worsening state and then eventual confirmation of death all say that if he can’t do smth as important as saving and fixing his friend, fixing his own mistake, then he’s definitely not worthy of meeting ging. he’s not worthy of anybody or anything except suffering.

thirdly, while their time together was fairly limited, it wasn’t like it was devoid of meaningfulness; kite served as an important mentor to both killua and gon when they rly needed it, and he helped them survive through his actions, words, and influence (such as the time he saved gon’s life again, this time from centipede, and when he advised gon to stay focused w his eyes open & to always destroy the head).

if i have any criticisms, comments, or anything u wanna add to my analysis, pls do!! hope you enjoyed it.

[hom3landr]

plz I need “show me how much you missed me”

Homecoming

18+

You always know just how to welcome him back

Having him back in your arms again is more potent than any drug. You feel secure, loved, taken care of by someone who would let no harm come to you. The loneliness that festers inside you like a rot, eating you from the inside out, is blissfully washed away by the sheer overwhelm of his presence. Anyone else would be terrified by the force with which Homelander loves. You’d be wounded if he loved you any less, burned by a lifetime of lukewarm affection that inevitably turned into cruel indifference. No one ever bothered enough to care before. So even though blood still mats his hair and his embrace has stained you with red, you cling to him desperately.

He tastes like iron, his tongue pressing desperately against yours. His grip flexes on your hips as he fights to contain the strength of his passion. You’re the lucky one because you have no limit to how tightly you can clutch him to you. You can feed that neediness inside you without worrying that your too eager hands might rend flesh from bone. There is a freedom in your weakness that you do not hesitate to take advantage of. Your hand buries itself in his hair and tugs, the strands sticky under your fingers. He follows your lead as he reluctantly pulls away to meet your gaze. Something hungry inside you wakes up.

His eyes are hazy, intoxicated and open in a way you haven’t seen before. There is a subtle unspoken shift in the air as you realize that somewhere along the line, the question of who holds the power no longer has a definite answer. You gently push on his chest, guiding him back until his legs hit the bed. His gaze is fixed on yours, eager and curious. If he wasn’t undone by lust, he’d be almost amused as he watches you stretch unused muscles for the first time. As it stands, his muddled brain clings to your guidance.

You surprise him when you move around him to climb onto the bed yourself. You settle yourself on top of the pillows as you spread your legs, slowly revealing that you are bare under your silky nightdress. Something delicious brews in your gut as he swallows thickly, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip.

“Show me how much you missed me.” You purr.

His eyelashes flutter for half a second before a wicked grin makes its way across his face. His eyes are dark and hungry as he climbs onto the bed. It doesn’t take him long to decide exactly how he wants to show you, his mouth already watering. He crawls to you like an animal who’s ready to feast on its prey. It would be easy to melt into the pillows and let him have his way. He knows exactly how to make you feel good. But tonight feels different and you aren’t ready to give away this opportunity just yet. So when he places a warm hand on your thigh, ready to spread you to his liking, you bat it away with your knee. Surprisingly he retreats, his eyes sharp and wary he waits for your next move.

“No hands.”

His expression falters, not negatively, but as a result of his brain recalibrating this new dynamic. You’ve been firm with him before but never bossy and the almost painful throb of his cock makes his head spin. Without breaking eye contact, he shakily moves both hands behind his back. You feel borderline drunk as you realize how much his current position reflects a pose normally meant to instill a sense of authority. Which is something that he is now handing silently over to you. You don’t say a word except to drape your legs over his shoulders, making your intentions perfectly clear. The blood still soaking his costume leaves crimson smears on your thighs as he leans forward to bury his face between your legs.

He doesn’t warm you up like he normally does. He’s eager from the start, after starving for days. It’s almost overwhelming as he sucks on your clit like it’s the only thing tethering him to this world. Without having his hands to hold him up, every shift and movement creates delicious friction as his aching cock has no choice but to grind against the bed. He whines desperately as he licks you with determination.

Your hand returns to his hair, using it for leverage as you grind against his face. Without him holding you down, you can truly use him the way you want to. He’s at the mercy of your movements, constantly adjusting for the best angle. You tug roughly at his hair when he pulls away briefly to give a sharp nip to your thigh. He grunts and looks up at you with a fierce glare but the effect is dampened by the fact that his mouth is still sealed to your aching clit. You’d pull him off to teach him a lesson if you had any self-control. So you use a different tactic instead.

“Be a good boy for me. Can you do that?” You coo and his brow furrows like you’ve wounded him. He pants into your soaking cunt as your heels dig into his back. He nods and the brush of his nose against your clit causes your vision to white out for half a second. It’s so fucking good.

He’s a blood-soaked god and you have him on his knees and moaning into you like it’s the only reason he was put on this earth.

He must have really missed you.

It isn’t long before the sheer overstimulation causes Homelander to freeze and shake. He keens as he rests his damp forehead against your bloody thigh, grinding against the sheets through the tight spandex of his pants. You pet his hair gently, putting your own pleasure on the backburner as you guide him through his. You whisper gentle praises and affirmations as he shudders. You wonder if you need to give him a moment to collect himself but before the thought can fully form he’s back. Before, he was feasting, trying to soak up as much of you as possible with no real strategy. His orgasm has not dampened his desire but it has sharpened it, giving him a clarity that he now uses to undo you the same way you did him.

He’s completely wicked as he takes you apart with each calculated stroke of his tongue. It doesn’t take long before you’re reduced to a fragile moaning mess. He still follows your lead but it’s with the languidness of a well-fed predator. So it’s no surprise that you come with his tongue deep inside you, making sure not to leave one bit of you untouched by him. After all, he’s a good boy and good boys always make sure their plate is clean.

It takes a while for you to come down, legs trembling from where they continue to rest on his broad shoulders. Your stomach clenches as you realize that his hands are still dutifully folded behind his back, despite adjusting his position slightly so he can rest his head on your stomach. He’s waiting for you to release him. You release your grip on his hair, fingers aching from the tight hold you had on him. You gently cup his cheek in one hand. He nuzzles into you instantly. It breaks your heart how desperate he is for affection. He looks up at you shyly.

“Did you miss me too?” He asks quietly. You expected him to be cheeky with you, the way he normally is after making you come that hard. This vulnerability isn’t new exactly, but hardly expected. So you smile and gently caress his cheekbone with your thumb.

“More than anything.” You respond, gently tugging him till his head rests on your chest and you’re wrapped tightly in his arms. You’re both sticky. The room smells like blood and sex. Yet neither of you have the energy to break the comfortable silence.

You hope he never leaves again, but you’ll always be here to greet him when he returns.

[sketchy--akechi]

(apologies for going on rants about it but i have so many thoughts lmao) been looking at the asks and stuff for the palace au and i am. so ill over it already. joker palace aus grab my brain and shake it around so much bc of how it can be played out with how yeah joker's the leader, but with a group where he helped shoulder all their problems and doubts on top of having to destroy a reality where all his friends could have everything and the true reality where he couldn't save a genuine life, it's so???? you think about how they're all teenagers and how much that is so have on one person's shoulders who probably built up a complex of being unable to truly confide in anyone

and giving a deadline is so unique bc i don't think ive seen a palace au with a full deadline. plus there's smthn so like,,, horrifying about being given a deadline for this case?? because it's not just like a deadline until something very bad happens like being arrested or expelled. it's literally a deadline counting down days until someone dies. it's a deadline ticking down until you're too late to save someone from themself and the personification of doubt, grief, anger, blame, and probably hate wearing their face. having to fight so much harder because you missed fighting at the start and the longer it's left to fester the stronger you'll have to be to even have a hope to make up the time difference.

anyway love the au and i am patiently (excitedly) waiting

YEAH IKR!!! honestly ive seen many fics with the concept already but it's still sooo interesting to think about and has so much potential so i wanted to give it a try too and now it's living in my head rent free i LOVE the headcanon that akira feels like he has to shoulder everyone's burdens while not being a burden to his friends himself - he has to be the strong leader, he's the one supposed to help them, and that's why in the fic the phantom thieves can't access his palace, except for akechi - the one person akira wasn't able to help. there's so many negative emotions bottled up inside akira and his shadow truly is the worst version of himself - and he's able to manipulate akira into thinking staying in the palace forever (aka: letting himself get killed by his shadow) is the best solution; even when akechi finally finds him, akira refuses to believe he's real and isn't willing to leave the palace. in most fics i've read akechi was the unhinged one and akira helped him getting better, so i really wanted to reverse the roles here: akechi has more or less moved on from everything that happened and got his shit together, while akira is literally going insane. akira can be a little messed up, as a treat!!!

[fictionkinfessions]

just realized how horrifically grim my hawke timeline is. both varric and carver died while i was still in the fade. two of my last, closest connections just... gone. my entire family officially dead and i didnt even know. varric killed by that elven mage i met too briefly to have ever known anything significant about. i know i gave up the right to goodbyes when i volunteered to be left in the fade. i know. i knew that to some extent when i left fenris, and it ate me alive. i felt that i was marching off to my doom, and all i could bare to leave him was a note, for fear of anything else giving him ample opportunity to change my mind or come with me by force.

how did i outlive varric and carver?

and fenris... i believe i was pulled out of the fade, some time after those elven gods were defeated. him being the force which still drove me to be found, which still reached for me despite how horribly i hurt him, who finally convinced me of reality after a decade in fade, hostile as it was against human minds and mortal bodies. it leached my memories, my emotions, from which bore plethoras of demons come to feed. i certainly had heaps of negative emotions to spare to attract them.

i don't know how much we told each other after everything. i know that i was a shell. i was not the same man he fell in love with, and i could never truly be him again. i loathed it- myself-, all the harm i did, the life i still had and yet i struggled to be much more than a ghost clinging to him in a fog. i couldnt bare to be parted with him again, even for a moment. viewed a certain way, i suppose i was lucky enough that he felt similarly. i have an inkling to how it, we, both ended, but it seems too dark to put into words here.

to varric, it was never your fault, everything that happened to me. the deep roads, the letters you sent about corypheus- i made my own choices. maybe i didnt fully realize what the consequences would be, but neither did you. we were just men. and id never regret meeting you. not in a million years. i know we didnt put to words how much we meant to each other often, but know this; i love you. i miss you. i hope you're thriving in this life. and if youre still writing, by some stroke of coincidence, see if you can develop telepathy and beam it over to me. i always liked to read what you wrote, even all those grandiose lies about me.

to carver, im sorry it took as long as it did for us to be on the same page. there's a lot else im sorry about, but i get the idea you might not want to only get sorries. i hope with the wardens you found the limelight you'd always been looking for. i hope you made friends and got silly crushes and had fun despite the constant gloom of the job. i wish i hadn't been such a burden on you. i had never wanted to be. you were my little brother. i had always wanted to protect you and bethany. from the day the both of you were born, that was all i wanted. theres so much more i could say, but listen. i love you, with my whole heart. i loved you since i first laid eyes on you. i kept loving you even as you pulled away and bristled around me. i still love you. im an older brother in this life too, though i never got to grow up with my younger sibling. i miss you. i hope you're still going strong out there somewhere, showing the world you're more than worthy of recognition

to fenris. my heart, my love. im sorry i was so selfish. im sorry i let all of those horrible emotions rot away at me from the inside; the guilt, the self-loathing, the turmoil and the dread. the ultimate betrayal i could have ever committed against you- i took away your choice. i left because i could not bear the thought of being your downfall as well. i left because i had already been convincing myself i was horrible, so much lesser than what was needed of me. it built up, and up, and up, and boiled over. i should have talked to you. i had so many chances to open up instead of fester. at the very, very least i should have given you the choice, not have chosen the cowards option. all those years in the fade, and i missed you every moment, and it stung as i knew i didn't deserve to do so when i was the one who left. there were many demons who used your likeness to torment me, and it dug my heart out anew each and every time. i refused to use my magic on them, even when i knew (thought) they could not possibly be you- because they still wore your face, and a part of my mind wavered with the idea that it could have been you, the real you. eventually it was. that you still searched for me, after all that... maker, fenris. there is no apology good enough for what i put you through, and no phrase that encompasses the depths of gratitude for your love for me. i love you. my heart still aches for you, and i imagine even in lives i do not remember you i will ache for you. i miss you more than words can describe. i hope you're living free, with love coming easier without being fraught as our lives once were. i hope you laugh and smile often. i hope the bad days get easily washed away by the good ones, and if not, then i hope that one day you've had so many good days the bad ones dont cling quite so stubbornly anymore.

-hawke

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