#That animal that I loved suffered for months and then died.

[silenzahra]

Luigi the Bookworm 📚✨

Today, April 23rd, we celebrate Book Day in Spain with a beautiful tradition: gifting books and roses. In the past few months, I've started to see Luigi, my favorite Mario character, as a bookworm, thanks to some art pieces like this one, by Mikis_art94 on Instagram, and this one, a short comic by Sarahsketckesluigi, also on Instagram.

And, since I'm also a bookworm myself, I thought of celebrating this day by sharing with you my own take on Luigi's bookish side 🤭 Warning: this is gonna be LONG, so make sure to grab some drinks and snacks and make yourselves comfortable! 💖

(Also, I may go and turn some of these into actual fanfics at some point because, well... I got myself inspired 👀🤭✨)

Please go and check this amazing post by @itsavee4117! It's a companion to this one and you can see many of my headcanons illustrated in his lovely art style!!! 📚💖

@bberetd @vulpixfairy1985 @peaches2217 @nuctoria @keakruiser

@pepperycar @kelbreyworshipper @roscolate and anyone else who might be interested: I hope you enjoy! Happy Book Day! 📚🥀✨

Part 1: Luigi's Bookish Side

Luigi is a person who tends to get excited easily, and when he does, he experiences those feelings with great intensity. This applies to all aspects of his life, and reading, one of his greatest passions, is no exception.

In terms of genres, Luigi is generally open to read anything. He enjoys realistic novels, historical novels, classic novels, mystery novels, sci-fi novels... And he also reads books about gardening, cooking, baking and mechanics from time to time. The only things he’s unable to consume are thrillers and horror. He's tried, but, with all the times he's had to face King Boo, he's had more than enough terror and frights to last him a lifetime, thank you very much.

His favorite genres are fantasy and romance. The former, because traveling to made-up worlds allows him to forget about his real-life problems and offers him an escape from his daily life, which can often be exhausting. The second, because he’s a complete romantic who loves to see people loving each other and living happily ever after. And also... because of something that has to do with Daisy.

Luigi lives every book he reads with the same intensity. For him, it's as if the characters really existed, as if they were his friends, people he can talk to, share common interests with, and also help to achieve their purposes in life (i.e. in the books they’re from).

And maybe... just maybe... he's fallen in love more than once while reading and now he has a loooong list of literary crushes thet only keeps growing.

So, when he’s reading, Luigi laughs with the characters, cries when one of them suffers or dies, his heart tearing in his chest, and is deeply moved every time a tender moment occurs, such as a kiss, a hug or a cute scene involving, for example, a baby or an animal.

His favorite stories are those about siblings. Not only because he enjoys reading family stories, but also because, without even thinking about it, he often finds it easy to put himself in the place of the younger sibling. For him, therefore, it’s as if he were reading a story starring himself and his beloved brother Mario, and he loves to imagine that they’re going on adventures together in an unknown world. Almost like when they first arrived in the Mushroom Kingdom.

Over the years, Luigi has gathered quite a collection of books, so Mario, the moment they move into the little house in the Mushroom Kingdom that Peach offered them, doesn't hesitate to suggest to his brother that he use the extra room to build himself a small library. Luigi is not too sure at first, thinking that maybe his brother would like to have an office, but Mario insists.

So Luigi has a small library in his new home, which he soon fills to the top with books, and it’s his pride and joy. He and Mario assembled the bookshelves together, which they brought all the way from Brooklyn, and now Luigi has a wonderful reading nook where he can isolate himself to let his imagination run wild for hours. It is, along with the bedroom he shares with Mario, his favorite room in the whole house.

For Luigi, reading is something so important, meaningful and almost sacred in his life, that he has a whole ritual that he performs every time he sits down to read. He has a rocking chair in his small library, a present from his brother when they moved to live in the Mushroom Kingdom, and he has it placed right next to the window and in front of the fireplace. He likes to be able to see the sky when he looks up from his reading, and he usually stares at the clouds or the stars while he daydreams about or reflects on what he has just read. During the summer, he usually keeps it open, as he loves to read in natural light while the gentle breeze from Peach's land cools him, and in winter he keeps it firmly closed while the fireplace warms him.

Luigi loves to light a scented candle to help him get in the perfect mood for reading. His favorite scent is vanilla, as it reminds him of his favorite princess, but he also loves lavender and cinnamon. He usually makes himself a hot drink, sometimes tea, sometimes chocolate, and brings a nice blanket to warm up, which is why his favorite time to read is the coldest time of the year, especially autumn. He also prepares his set of post-its to mark his favorite sentences and parts of the book, and he has a ritual for colors too: yellow for funny moments, blue for sentences that make him reflect on them, red or pink for romantic scenes…

Luigi knows that there are many people who write directly in their books, but, for him, that is unthinkable. He sees books as a valuable and precious object, a repository of stories that helps him disconnect from reality and let his imagination run wild. He respects what everyone does with their books, but he’s simply incapable. Especially if it’s a book he has been given as a gift.

His favorite copies are hardcover, even more so if they include a dust jacket. He treasures all his books with the same affection, but those are undoubtedly his weak point. The most precious of all is a hardcover, dust-jacketed edition of his favorite book, which was a present from Mario, and which also has painted edges.

Usually, when it's time to read, Mario is either napping, spending quality time with Peach, or doing something else around the house. Polterpup, on the other hand, takes the opportunity to approach his owner and, if it's summer, lie at his feet while he reads. If it's winter, however, Polterpup will jump into Luigi's lap without his permission and cuddle up and fall asleep immediately, before Luigi even has time to recover from the fright and resume reading. (Check out @pepperycar's funny addition to this!)

Luigi is a speed reader. Usually, when he starts reading, he doesn't intend to go too fast. It's just that, after so many years reading, his eyes have acquired an astonishing speed, and he’s able to retain every word in his head despite going through them very quickly. Also, if a book really hooks him, he’s unable to put it down until he finishes it, which has caused him to stay up late several nights and go to work half asleep the next day, but it's always totally worth it. Because of this ability, he can finish books of about 300-400 pages in just a few hours, and sometimes also 500 if he gets caught up completely.

Luigi LOVES to buy books. His favorite visits are to Sarasaland and the bookstore, and he also does a lot of online shopping to support small publishers. Every time a new book comes home, he gets excited as if it's the first time, and always asks Mario to please record him while he's unboxing it. Mario unhesitatingly stands on the other side of the camera and makes sure that every shot is perfect and that the book looks great, and Luigi, delighted and grateful, always gives him the tightest and most spontaneous hugs every time they finish filming.

And, of course, once he has the book in his hands, Luigi squeals and kicks, excited, as he waves it in the air like maracas before hugging it tightly to his chest. And, when the book is a present from someone dear to him, he acts exactly the same, only he ends up crying and thanking again and again the person who gave it to him while, again, he presses the book against himself as if his life depended on it.

Luigi is VERY much a fan of merchandising. He loves collecting bookmarks, he has such a huge collection that he's had to divide it into several drawers, and every time he’s going to start a new reading, he tends to spend more time deciding which bookmark will be the most suitable than choosing the book itself. He’s also bought a few literary stickers and some printed works of his favorite books, like fanarts of different scenes or characters illustrated by various artists, which he's hung on a corkboard. And, of course, since his books are the most precious thing he has, he’s also bought many literary covers from different small artists' stores, so that he can keep his books well protected when he carries them around.

Luigi is the kind of person who takes a book with him everywhere. A doctor's appointment? Book in backpack in case the wait gets longer. Public transport? He can't think of a better way to spend it than reading. He even takes them with him when he meets up with Mario, Peach and Toad, just in case his brother and the princess get lovey-dovey, and Toad falls asleep. And, if there's one thing Luigi likes better than sleeping in nature, it's reading in nature.

Part 2: The Reader Brother

Luigi has loved reading since he was very young. When he and Mario were babies, their parents used to tell them a bedtime story, sometimes Pio, sometimes Mia, and Luigi always listened very attentively. He would gawk listening to them and loved how they used to put voices and even recreate some scenes to make them laugh.

Mario also listened very interested, but being a more energetic baby, he used to fall asleep about halfway through the story, with his head resting on Luigi's shoulder and his arm firmly around his brother's waist. Their parents would drool, but they had to continue, for Luigi, even if he was struggling to keep his eyes open, wasn’t going to go to sleep without knowing the ending.

Only then, with a satisfied smile, he would hug his brother back, curl up next to him, close his eyes, and put his thumb in his mouth to get ready for sleep. By then, Mario was completely asleep, clinging to Luigi like a koala to a eucalyptus tree, and their parents had to make great efforts not to melt as they tucked them in and kissed them goodnight.

Since then, both brothers have grown up being great lovers of stories, only that, while Luigi loves books, Mario prefers to consume them in movies or video games. Even so, these are all hobbies that the brothers share, as they love to immerse themselves in a good story that helps them escape from reality for a while.

When Luigi gets emotional about a book he’s reading or has just read, Mario immediately comes to his side to hug and comfort him. He knows that, even if it's fiction, his brother has lived through it all in such a way that his feelings, of sadness, joy or emptiness at having finished a great story, are real and intense. And Mario would never judge him for it.

Luigi is deeply grateful not only that his brother comforts him, but that he listens to him talk endlessly about what has just happened in the book he’s reading, and even catches his emotions. Mario may not cry, but he feels his brother's sadness as if it were his own. Fortunately, the same thing happens when Luigi is happy or excited because of a book, and even on the few occasions when Luigi has gotten angry with a character, Mario has giggled under his breath before calming him down, because he finds it extremely tender.

Luigi usually goes to the bookstore at least once a week, and Mario, since they were teenagers, has almost always accompanied him. The only exceptions were when Mario was dating Pauline, and Luigi had no problem paying his weekly visit to the bookstore by himself, but, deep down, he missed Mario.

His brother also loves to accompany him, because, despite not being as much of a reader as Luigi, he enjoys watching him go back and forth from one shelf to another, pointing out the books he’s already read and the ones he wants to read. Also, when he gets the chance to buy a new one, Mario is amused to see Luigi picking up one book after another and trying to load them all and then deciding which one to take home.

Of course, Mario immediately offers to help him carry the books so that Luigi can keep picking up more if he wants to, and Luigi appreciates it from the bottom of his heart. And also that, again, Mario listens to him chatting incessantly about why each book has caught his attention and why he has such a hard time making up his mind.

Mario always tries to guide him in the best possible way: "What do you feel like reading more right now?" "Is it part of a series or is it a standalone?" "Is the sequel already out or would you have to wait?" "Did you like this or that author better?"

And Luigi thanks him deeply for his advice and questions because, that way, he manages to discern which book he really wants to buy that time.

The best way to surprise Luigi, the best birthday and Christmas present, will always be a book. Mario knows this, and that's why he doesn't hesitate to ask his brother to show him his long and endless lists of books he wants to purchase, as well as discreetly taking notes every time he goes to the bookstore with him. Luigi cherishes every book his brother has gifted him like the priceless treasures they are to him.

Sometimes Luigi runs into space problems. Even though his bookshelf is large and spacious, there’s a limit to everything. In those moments when he’s overwhelmed because he doesn't know where to place his new acquisitions, Mario always comes to the rescue: he immediately offers to hang a new shelf on the wall, or to look for another bookshelf to place in some free space in the room, or, directly, he stares at Luigi's shelf with a frown and his hand on his chin for a few moments, before taking the new books from his brother's arms and, displaying his skills playing Tetris, manages to find room to place them.

He loves to do it not only because he enjoys applying in real life what he has learned playing video games, but above all because of the relieved smile that blooms on Luigi's lips when he sees that Mario has found the perfect solution.

Luigi loves going to literary events where he can meet his favorite authors and have his books signed, but he tends to get so nervous that he always gets stuck for words and sweats a lot, which embarrasses him deeply.

The first time, in fact, Luigi was so shocked to have his favorite author in front of him that he fainted. When he woke up in the ambulance, he was so embarrassed that nothing Mario, who, of course, always accompanies him, said succeeded in comforting him.

He only calmed down a bit at home, when, alone with Mario, he began to silently cry without even realizing it, and his brother, not uttering a word, sat down in front of him, worried, and wrapped him gently in his arms. He pressed the back of Luigi's neck softly to make him rest his head on his shoulder and stroked his back gently, his heart aching at each new sob that escaped his brother's throat.

It took him many, many years to convince Luigi to go to an event again, for Luigi feared the same thing would happen to him again. He didn't want to make a fool of himself like that ever again, especially not in front of writers he deeply admires.

So Mario decided that they would practice: he dressed as much as he could like Luigi's favorite author, watched as many videos as he could on the internet to soak up his personality and find out what kind of books they wrote, and pretended to be them again and again, relentlessly, until Luigi, little by little, managed to exchange a few words with him.

It took them many attempts, because, despite knowing it was his brother, Luigi had no trouble getting into the situation due to his overflowing imagination. Mario had to step out of character several times to try to calm him down and help him regulate his breathing.

Luckily, thanks to Mario's efforts, eventually it worked, and Luigi, a few years later, found himself back at an event and able to chat for a few minutes with the writers he read, even though his heart was beating frantically in his chest and excitement was flooding his insides.

He will never be able to thank his brother for his infinite patience, but Mario always plays it down tenderly. He keeps assuring him that it was not patience, but his deep and sincere love for his younger brother and his eagerness to help him fulfill his wishes.

Part 3: Royalty + Luaisy

Ever since the brothers met Princess Peach, she and Luigi have been, little by little, building up a beautiful friendship that grows every day, just like the sweet romantic relationship between her and Mario.

It didn't take long for Peach to discover Luigi's bookish side, and it made her eager and excited, as she has always enjoyed reading and loves to comment on the books she reads in great detail.

So she didn't hesitate to take Luigi to the huge library of her castle, and she smiled, touched, as she saw the amazement with which Luigi observed its towering shelves, turning on himself in the center of the room as he tried to take it all in.

Since then, Peach and Luigi have become reading buddies. The two of them love to immerse themselves in a good story, read together in the castle library while comfortably sipping tea and, of course, comment on what they have just read and exchange views. Luigi even ends up causing Peach to also take a liking to collecting bookmarks and literary merchandising.

They often do joint readings: they discover a book they both feel like reading and set a series of goals to try to read it at the same pace, so they can discuss it as they go along. Sometimes, however, Luigi discovers that Peach hasn't read one of his favorite books, so he doesn't hesitate to read it with her so he can see her reactions, and vice versa. They love to share their anger, their cries and their joys, for it fills their hearts with bliss and emotion that they have someone by their side who understands perfectly well what they’re feeling and why.

They enjoy hearing what this or that scene has made the other feel, or what they think of this or that character, because it helps them to see things from a point of view that, perhaps, they had not considered before. Reading enriches them, but their literary conversations enrich them even more.

And Mario, of course, is delighted that the two most important people in his life have forged such a strong, deep bond and spend so much quality time together, sharing one of their greatest passions. Often, unbeknownst to them, he stands watching them as they read in the library and gets a silly grin on his face when he sees them laughing together after chatting a bit about their readings.

When it comes to Prince Peasley, on the other hand, Luigi is the one who watches him while smiling, mesmerized, as the prince, always so elegant and sophisticated, has an exquisite oratory and knows how to strike the perfect tone every time a character intervenes, and also to confer the right emotion when it comes to the narrator. And Luigi, besides staring at him, enraptured by the fabulousness of his figure, also listens to him spellbound. He would almost say that he enjoys reading more when his beloved prince is the one who narrates, and plays, the stories.

Princess Daisy, due to her energetic nature, is not much prone to reading. She prefers more dynamic activities where she can unleash not only her endless energy, but also her competitive side. Even so, she knows and respects the value of books, having grown up well aware of their importance in safeguarding and protecting the history of her kingdom. (@kelbreyworshipper you may like these ones!)

But when she meets Luigi, she begins to show a slight interest in reading, something that at first was only born so that she could have something to talk to him about. Fortunately, Luigi, despite his initial shyness, doesn't need more than a mention of literature to start talking nonstop about his favorite stories and how much they make him feel. And Daisy, not even realizing it, finds herself listening to him entranced, very attentive to his every word and genuinely understanding why there are people, like Luigi, who find reading so exciting.

Over time, she starts asking him for book recommendations, which he happily obliges, and Daisy discovers that she actually enjoys reading, especially stories with tons of action. Still, what she likes the most about this is Luigi's thrilled and moved expression when he finds out she's actually listened to him, read the book he recommended and, therefore, now they can fangirl together. She falls even harder for him because of the cute little face he makes.

Sensing that her interest in him is growing and that it may be mutual, Daisy decides to invite Luigi to Sarasaland Castle to show him her library. At first she doesn't tell him what she has invited him for, which makes Luigi VERY nervous, as he doesn't know if this is a date or not. She playfully takes him by the hands, leads him to the library doors and asks him to close his eyes. Luigi hesitates a little, unsure, but ends up obeying so as not to disappoint her.

Daisy then opens the library and guides Luigi carefully inside. He almost trips, which makes her laugh, causing him, in turn, to relax a bit. And when she finally tells him to open his eyes, Luigi gasps and his jaw drops, his heart pounding in his chest, not only because that library is even a bit larger than Peach's, but also because, slowly, his mind understands and assimilates that Daisy had prepared this to surprise him.

And even though he’s fascinated by all the books before him, he ends up, without realizing it, looking at Daisy, with a blushing smile on his flushed face and his hands over his heart, while she explains to him that all those volumes belonged to his ancestors and that he has her permission to come whenever he wants to get them. "They're yours!" she says at last, turning to him, and Luigi's heart grows larger at the offer, causing a tear to escape his eyes as the princess, full of tenderness, smiles at him.

Over the next few days, Luigi goes to the library, encouraged by Daisy, who insists again and again that he come to Sarasaland. Her library has a huge ladder to reach the highest shelves, and Daisy uses it without a second thought to glide across the room, to the terrified gaze of Luigi, who dares not even climb the first rung.

As soon as she notices this, Daisy gets down, walks over to Luigi and takes him by the hand to guide him to the ladder. He almost cringes when she places his hand on the wood and freezes when Daisy encourages him to climb up. "It's completely safe!" she assures him. "And, besides, I'll be right here. You can hold my hand as you climb up. I promise I won't slide you down too fast the first time!"

Very slowly and clinging to Daisy's hand, Luigi climbs up the steps. She doesn't let go and keeps repeating phrases to encourage him, which makes Luigi feel almost as safe as when he is with Mario, though in a different way. Once he reaches the top of the first shelf, however, Luigi is unable to climb any higher, so Daisy doesn't pressure him any further. She gently grasps the lower end of the ladder and, after warning him, moves it a little, very slowly as she promised, to make him feel secure.

The next day, however, Daisy goes up right after Luigi and, leaning into the next bookshelf, pushes as hard as she can to propel the ladder to the opposite side at breakneck speed. Her laughter mingles with Luigi’s screams, but however, once they stop, he discovers that, despite his initial panic, he’s had fun with what Daisy has just done.

This then becomes a regular occurrence between them, until it gets to the point where Luigi feels comfortable and confident enough to climb the ladder by himself and propel himself across the library in true “Beauty and the Beast” style.

In the kingdom of Sarasaland there’s a tradition to honor books, as they’re not only a source of entertainment, but also the sacred objects that preserve their history. Daisy has grown up with these values and does not hesitate to tell Luigi about this tradition soon after they start dating.

On Book Day, it is customary for the man to give the woman a rose and the woman to give the man a book. This originated many centuries ago, before everything related to gender and relationships evolved, so nowadays, simply put, the members of a romantic relationship give each other both a book and a rose.

Luigi shows up in Sarasaland on the appointed date very nervously, dressed in a smart green suit, his favorite color, and carrying a wrapped book for Daisy, as well as a purple rose, very rare and hard to come by, which he has grown himself in his garden with Peach's help. Daisy greets him in a lovely purple dress, with a vaporous skirt, matching elbow-length gloves and her delicate shoulders bare. She holds out her gift to him almost before he reaches the castle gates and can recover from the amazement of seeing her so dazzling and beautiful.

He’s delighted when, upon opening it, he discovers that it is one of those special editions he’s been looking for for so long. Only Mario knew he wanted it, so he understands, without needing Daisy to tell him, that his brother has given his girlfriend a hand to surprise him. And that makes his heart fill with love and his eyes with tears, and the book even more precious to him.

Daisy excitedly opens her present and, to Luigi's surprise, squeals when she discovers that he’s gifted her a fantasy adventure novel that caught her eye when he first took her to his favorite Brooklyn bookstore. Daisy drags him into the library, invites him to sit down with some drinks (tea for him, a smoothie for her), and asks him to please start reading.

And so they spend their first Book Day together: settled on Daisy's fluffy library couch, she sat on his lap, the skirt of her purple dress spread over his legs, almost hiding them, and her arms around his neck, depositing light kisses here and there as he struggles to read aloud the book he’s just given her. This was the first time they gave each other a book, but of course it would not be the last, as reading together, visiting the Brooklyn bookstore and Sarasaland and Mushroom Kingdom libraries, and continuing to celebrate Book Day would soon become habit for them.

Daisy often stares at Luigi as he reads, amused by his reactions and the faces he makes, and, when their relationship is more established, she has no qualms about peeping over his shoulder. And Luigi, far from getting angry, what he did the first time and has continued to do ever since is to read aloud, so that she also finds herself immersed in the story without realizing it. (This may sound familiar!)

But what Luigi enjoys the most is that Daisy, whenever the characters in the book share some intimate gesture, instantly replicates it with him. If they hold hands, Daisy immediately reaches for Luigi's hand. If there’s a hug, Daisy wraps her arms around Luigi and holds him tightly, which leaves him breathless, but also makes him laugh and fills his heart with tenderness.

And, of course, if there are kisses, Daisy won't hesitate to start showering Luigi with them. First on his hand, on the tips of his fingers and on his palm. Then on the forehead, with a delicacy that always melts Luigi. His cheeks color every time Daisy places her lips on them, but what drives him absolutely crazy is when she seeks his mouth. It's the only thing that makes him put down the book and postpone reading for another time. (Check out @bberetd's wonderful art for this!)

Often, before they fall asleep, Daisy cuddles up to Luigi in bed, wearing his green shirt, and buries her face in the crook of his neck. Luigi absentmindedly begins to fiddle with her hair, delighted to have her so close, and, with his other hand, reaches for his book to read aloud a few more pages before they fall asleep. It's part of their routine and they both love sharing stories that way.

Part 4: The gang

The visit to the bookstore and libraries has now become a regular occurrence for everyone. As soon as he started talking about books with Peach and she showed him her library, Luigi immediately invited her to come with him and Mario the next time they went to their regular Brooklyn bookstore, and she gladly accepted.

On that first visit by the princess, Peach was as thrilled as Luigi and the two of them went back and forth in the bookstore, she eagerly looking at everything, he endlessly talking about the store and the many books he’s bought there. Soon they found themselves going often to acquire new books, not without first spending a good while in the place accumulating stories in their arms to, again, decide in the end.

Again Luigi was looking for Mario, who, unconsciously, had been staring at them with an amused smile and his eyes full of affection. Blushing, Mario would hurry to come to his side to help him, and Luigi, even though he’d caught him gazing at the princess in rapt attention, wouldn’t comment anything so as not to make him uncomfortable or put any pressure on him.

Many times, however, Peach would intervene and take two of the books Luigi had chosen. That's how she also started giving him books as presents, and Luigi couldn't be more grateful that his beloved friend pampers him that way. Her gesture makes her even more attractive and sweet in the eyes of Mario, who melts at seeing her displaying such adoration towards his beloved little brother.

Daisy, always eager to learn more about the place where her dearest hero in green grew up, also joins in, but, to her surprise, she finds herself next to Mario, fondly watching Peach and Luigi, especially the latter. They, however, are so excited talking about books that they never notice the goofy smiles with which Daisy and Mario look at them, delighted to see their two favorite people indulging in their greatest passion.

Despite this, both Mario and Daisy make sure to pay attention to the books that Luigi and Peach point out with the intention of acquiring them in the future, and then make plans with each other to decide which ones to give them on future birthdays, Christmases and, of course, regular days. Any time is a good time to surprise their favorite people with a new literary gift.

Sometimes, on their dates, Luigi and Daisy also go to the bookstore, and she, as always, listens to him talk very attentively. When it comes to advising him on which book to acquire, however, she’s much more practical: she thinks Luigi should pick the book he wants to read the most… or the one with the most romance in it.

And Luigi blushes violently because he perfectly understands the implications of such a suggestion.

Literary events also end up being a regular thing they all do together. Luigi, thanks to Mario, already manages to control his nerves and chat a bit with the authors when they sign his books. Peach, of course, is all sweetness and always tells them how much their stories have made her feel and dream. Mario just smiles and listens, delighted to be able to accompany them and to see them enjoying themselves so much, right up their alley. He always takes pictures of them with the authors, both together and separately, something he already did when it was just him and Luigi.

Daisy, on the other hand, is so spontaneous and genuine that she doesn't hold back when it comes to treating the writers with too much familiarity, which only embarrasses the others, especially Luigi. If it's the author of a romance book, Daisy doesn't hesitate to cheerfully tell them how much she and her boyfriend enjoyed the sensual and intimate scenes, or that she lost count of how many times she kissed her sweetie during the reading because of the sheer number of times the characters kissed.

In those moments, Luigi can only think of crawling under a rock. He has to resort to all the training with Mario to manage to keep his composure and not faint again or run away to hide so no one sees him turning red as a tomato.

However, then Daisy intertwines her arm with his and kisses him on the cheek, and he feels that his blush, this time, is due to being close to her and to her tokens of affection. After all, Luigi adores everything about his princess, all her sides and her personality, and besides, to other authors, fortunately, Daisy tells them how much fun she and her boyfriend had with their novel, and Luigi can only adore her.

At these events, both Mario and Daisy go out of their way to get lots of bookmarks and merch for Luigi and Peach, as they know they both love to collect stuff related to their favorite books. And also, again, they take mental notes of all the books they can buy as future presents for them.

From time to time, Toad and Peasley also join in on their visits to the bookstore, libraries or events. Toad is a big fan of fantasy and adventure comics, as they nurture his enthusiastic and adventurous spirit, and Peasley loves to talk endlessly with his favorite authors about the various subjects they cover in their books, thus unconsciously displaying, once again, his impeccable eloquence.

I really hope you liked this! I had a blast writing all of this and imagining my favorite characters in the many situations I've experienced myself as a bookworm, as well as adding others I came up with 🥰

Plase feel free to add your comments and feedback, and also headcanons if you have a few of your own! And if by any chance this inspires you to create your own stuff, I'd be more than honored 😭 All I ask is to please give credit! 🙏💖

Before I leave, please remember to check @itsavee4117's blog today! You won't regret it 🤩📚✨

#Luigi the Bookworm #luigi #luigi my beloved #super mario bros #super mario headcanons #luigi headcanons #mario and luigi #mario #peach #daisy #peasley #toad #polterpup #princess peach #princess daisy #prince peasley #luaisy #luisley #super mario #my writing #silenzahra

[hussyknee]

Grief is the most asshole emotion ever invented. Desperate, terrible, helpless yearning for something that you know is gone forever? What kind of sadism is that? Fuck you.

#this is about my kitty #i grieve my pets more than I would any of my human family #well Dad's death was fucking brutal but I've been thankful that he died more often than not #my dogs and cats though? i would keep them with me forever #it's a sick joke that we have to love them knowing we will outlive them #I only had Gar for the 2 months he was sick #tried so desperately to save him every waking moment #tried to get him to live just a little bit longer until the very end #i'm afraid it might have let him suffer more #i left him in hospital for the last week of his life #barely lasted a day longer #Gar. Gar I love you my baby #come back to me #fuck this hurts #tw animal death #tw death #grief #mourning #knee of huss

[lululandd]

rabid; (i.)

pairing: platonic simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

word count: 956

warnings: comedy, aftermath of torture, mild gore

note: heheh >:3 (also on ao3)

summary:

ghost has a love-hate relationship with his neighbour of six years. on one hand they’re quiet enough, nice enough, considerate enough and never once had bothered him in any way, but on the other hand he is a highly trained soldier with highly trained senses and the things he hears travelling through his walls are batshit insane.

part i. | part ii. | part iii. | part iv.

He guesses they are an entertainer or a comedian or some sort because on rare occasions, they—whether he wanted to or not—made him laugh. The absurdity of the questions and things that came out of their mouth really makes him feel like he has a glimpse of what a worry free civilian life could be.

On one particularly rowdy night he heard the one sided conversation about anal, which rapidly escalated to how peoples arseholes can stretch up to seven inches in diameter and therefore, theoretically could fit two smaller raccoons.

He listened in fascinated horror how that thought came into their mind, how they associated arseholes with raccoons, and why in christ fuck did they sound so cheerful about it. Maybe he’s just a battle hardened, workaholic soldier that has only seen carnage and suffering, but even if such a thought came to his mind, it would not be classified as a happy thought and he would not laugh about it.

Until eight months later where he’s interrogating an American that he really wants to just straight up murder and remembers his neighbour.

He opens the door that leads to the rest of the warehouse and calls out to his men, “I need two raccoons. Small but not pups.”

He was met with silence and a confused looks, but he saw Gaz and Soap get on it and round up several soldiers.

“Alive!” He barked at them.

—

Soap looked worriedly at Gaz, “What do you think he’s gonna do with live raccoons?”

The other man shrugged, “You think he’s gonna threaten him with rabies?” Gaz gnashed his teeth together, “Let them bite him or something?”

One of the Lance Corporals behind them chimed, “I kinda wanna see.”

In came a chime of ‘yeah’s from the other men.

—

Ghost had made sure the American in question heard his request of the live raccoons before taking a seat on the table holding all his tools and lighting up a cigarette.

He looked at the man’s surroundings, the litter of teeth and nails on the floor, three parts of his severed ring finger, and the blood splatters on the makeshift plastic floor. The cleanup crew’s gonna at least be a little happy about that.

“You like raccoons, mate?” He offers, lighting what seemed to be his third cigarette.

The question caught him off guard. “What?”

“Raccoons. Trash pandas. Those chubby lil wankers with grubby hands.” He curled his palms and did mock scratching motions.

“You’re crazy.” He spat.

“I am.” For even thinking of trying this over his neighbour’s demented jokes.

Fourty five minutes later Gaz came knocking on his door.

“Got your furry friends, boss.” He gestures at a cage sitting by the door. The animals seemed calm, they couldn’t have just nicked it from some random bins and throw them in there.

“Cheers, Gaz.” He saw the man linger. “Anything else?”

“Can we observe, Sir?”

“No.” came his quick answer. If he really has to do what he thinks he’s gonna do, he’d rather his men not see it. They’ve seen so much in their line of work already, he doesn’t want to add to their nightmares.

Imagining one of them having PTSD from seeing a harmless animal makes him feel guilty.

He took the cage from Gaz’s hands and placed it nicely on the floor, a little way away from the American’s feet.

“You know that saying?” He puts on his best southern accent, mimicking Graves. “What crawled up your butt and died?”

The man’s eyes widened and he tried so hard to shift further into his seat, trying to create as much distance between them as possible. Ghost lets the moment go on for a little longer. It makes all the difference, really; whether you rush into the torture or letting them sit and wonder about the choices they think they have.

“I heard somewhere that your arse can stretch up to seven inches in diameter.” He pointed at the raccoons, “The normal sized bastards can fit into a four inch hole. But I’m being nice today and gonna give these smaller ones some wiggle room.”

He can’t help but crouch closer to the cage and coo at them as the man starts yelling for help.

“So.” He said in a calm voice, listing his head slowly when the man had stopped screaming his throat dry. “Since I’m a very nice man today I’m gonna give you two options.”

Fat rolls of tears had started to run down the man’s cheeks, his chest heaving as he begged for mercy.

“Do you want me to sedate these raccoons so they don’t claw your insides or do you wanna..” He remembers a word that floated into his flat one night, “..rawdog it?”

—

Soap had never seen a cleaner interrogation room before. Not from Ghost, the man’s usually so brutal about it. He remembers seeing parts of a live brain one time because Ghost had bashed their skull so badly and remembered having to shoot the person dead out of pity. But today? The intel was good, the man was still alive with almost all of his body parts; save for some of his teeth and nails and the chopped up finger,

and the raccoons.

They were alive and Ghost seemed to never have opened the cage at all.

—

When Ghost came home that month he heard his neighbour say something about a ‘little birthday celebration’ for tomorrow. He checked his watch and decided to walk to the bakery and get them some cake. That last operation went smoothly, and he has them to thank.

He can’t wait to hear what other mental things that will come out of their mouth in the future and apply them to his work.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty imagines #call of duty #scuffed writing

[thegettingbyp2]

aaa ive never sent a request so idk if i'm doing this right but!!

can i request a billy the kid x a female character who has a terminal illness? like him comforting her after she almost dies due to her condition and it's cute and fluffy

I'm Not Going Anywhere

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You were laying on your bed, your face pale and blood speckled in the corner of your lips. You’d been suffering from consumption for the past couple of months and every day that went by, the weaker you felt. But something that made you feel even worse was watching your boyfriend stick by your side, knowing that this was hurting him too. Billy had lost his mother and younger brother to consumption a few years ago and it was killing you to put him through this again.

You were recovering from a particularly bad week or so and Billy hadn’t left your side once. He was sitting next to your bed, one of your small, cold hands wrapped in both of his big, warm hands, lifting your hands to his lips every couple of minutes or so. He even kept a damp cloth nearby in case you got hot or so he could gently wipe the blood from your lips.

‘I’m sorry,’ you practically whispered, not strong enough to speak any louder.

‘What are you sorry for?’ he asked gently, furrowing his brows slightly as he pressed his lips to your hand again.

‘Putting you through this, I would understand if you wanted to leav - ’

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he replied, cutting you off, moving to the edge of his seat to be closer to you, using one of his hands to cup your cheek and stroke your cheek with his thumb as he looked into your eyes. ‘I love you. You can’t get rid of me that easily.’ You smiled at him softly as your eyes filled with tears that you refused to let roll down your cheeks as a shiver wracked your body. ‘You cold?’ Billy asked as he reached to grab another blanket for you.

‘Will you come and lay with me?’ you asked quietly.

‘You don’t need to ask,’ he said, instantly moving to lay down on the bed with you, being careful not to jostle you too much as he pulled you into his arms. You felt your body instantly relax just by being in his arms and his body heat felt amazing against your now-freezing cold body. Burying your face against him, you pressed a gentle kiss to the base of his throat, breathing in the scent that was just Billy.

‘Tell me about what we’re going to do when I get better again?’ you asked. You both knew that there was no getting better for you but you loved the way Billy would talk, how animated he’d get when he’d tell you about all the places he’d take you; it was a way for the two of you to forget about what was happening for a while.

‘Course, baby,’ he murmured, kissing the top of your head before pulling you against him tighter. ‘So, the second you’re better, I’m going to take you out on my horse and we’re going to go for a ride far away from here. We’ll go somewhere where it’s just grass and trees and we’ll spend the day just the two of us, the fresh air, no one around to bother us. And then we’ll get you a horse and I’ll teach you to ride and we can go out whenever you want, how does that sound?’

‘I can’t wait,’ you said, your voice muffled by his shirt as your tears began to track down your cheeks.

‘Me neither, how you feeling?’ Billy asked, lifting your head up to meet his gaze, his thumb wiping away your tears.

‘Tired,’ you replied with a sad chuckle as the sound of Billy’s voice paired with the feeling of his arms wrapped around you and his chest rising and falling underneath your cheek had your eyes fluttering closed.

‘Then go to sleep, love, I’ll still be here when you wake back up,’ he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, keeping his lips against your skin as you let yourself fall asleep, feeling safe in his arms.

When he realised you’d gone to sleep, Billy let a couple of his own tears fall, hating that you were the one suffering and not him; sending a silent prayer out that you’d wake up again.

#billy the kid #billy the kid imagine #billy the kid x reader #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #william h bonney imagine #tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader

[silv3rswirls]

Hound

Summary: What did a suffering lamb even accomplish? Who did it save, when would it end? 

Warnings: serial killer/yandere jk, kidnapping, stalking, references to death, suggestive scenes, delusions, religious themes/trauma, minor description of sick/rotting bodies/animals, murder, reader goes on a weird little adventure with killer jk?? She dies at the end

Note: idk I kind of lost the original plot of this one and this is what it turned out to be. Please mind the warnings and as always, hope ya’ll like it. ALSO, I didn't have it in me to edit this, so mind that. I might come back to this

There’s something in the corner; watching. It’s been there so long, you couldn’t remember when it invited itself in. It’s starving and sickly, black fur clinging to bones and eyes droopy and white. You stopped feeding it a long time ago, but still, it lingers. In every facet of your life, it lingers. You’ve lived like this for so many years, have you always lived like this?

What time was it?

Your eyes shifted from their fixed position on the wall to the clock, passing over the thin, gold cross mounted just beside it. Your eyes strained to read it against your bedroom's dark wood panels and dim, ugly yellow light. Whatever time it was, you knew it was time to get out of bed and start dinner before your husband got home from work. You make your way to the kitchen, the house dims now that the sun has set. You avoid flicking many lights on, it’ll save money your husband insisted. You hated fumbling around a dark house but had given up arguing with him a long time ago.

You peek through the sheer curtains, the sink running and steaming water burning your hands as you finish that morning's dishes. It was dark, and windy as the tree in your front yard shook and branches brushed against the roof. It was the cusp of winter, very cold but snow hadn’t started to fall yet. The neighborhood was quiet, street lamps harsh against the dark backdrop of houses. You stare hard outside, it's there. Standing there, watching you. That sick dog, with hackles raised and tongue hanging from its mouth. 

The curtains fall back into place as you turn the water off and dry your hands. You pass the phone, that’s been ringing for the past five minutes. You don’t answer because it's just your parents again, all they wanted was to guilt you into going to church with them on Sunday morning. They went every day, once upon a time you had gone as well, but now you could only stand to give them Sundays. Last week you had pretended to be sick to get out of it, your husband went along and you were sure he spent most of the day badmouthing and complaining about you not coming.

The last time you found yourself in a church you were standing at an altar listening to a man feed the room empty vows. You stood stiff, draped in satin, with eyes downcast. This is what everyone wanted; this is what you wanted. What a waste, as he fumbled the paper with his crudely written vows. What a waste of a man who couldn’t memorize a few short promises. What a waste of a man who couldn’t stand there and pretend to be in love with you, to dare to call himself righteous, the perfect match to keep their daughter in line with a faith you had stopped believing years ago. 

You didn’t want to get married. You had stopped liking the fantasy of having a husband years ago, and around the same time, you began to feel a sour taste over your parents' religion. What happened to you? What happened to our beautiful girl? They would ask, more so plead with you for answers. Truthfully, you had stopped believing in god. It was restricting; days to weeks to months to years. It was always the same. The same scripture, the same ravings of the pastor that drove such fear of doing anything wrong into you, leaving holes in your body that oozed with guilt and shame; you didn’t know why.

You had begged god to save you, even after all the terrible things he must’ve seen you do. Still, on the morning of your wedding and every day after that, you begged. Knelt until your knees were raw and aching, your hands clasped so tight until your nails pricked your aching skin and drew blood. You begged, for something, anything, you weren’t even sure what anymore. But nothing ever changed. When would god find time for you again? You live, you do as you’re told. You do everything you’re supposed to, and yet nothing. You live how you’re told. You grow, you work, you’re a wife. You follow and you ignore the hound scratching at your walls. You’ll die soon, you can feel it. When will he come back to you?

That night you refused to go inside, letting your feet go numb buried in snow in the backyard. Looking into the treeline, you’d rather be fed by the creatures lurking there than by some angry boy playing dog inside. You wanted to hurt him, for him to feel how you had the past year. He didn’t think you could, but you wanted to show him you would. 

But when you looked down at your trembling hands, stiff and half frozen from the cold, you knew there was no way you could show him. How you felt and how you acted were two different things; forever separate as much as you wanted them to be the same. You could talk a big game, think about how so badly you wanted to hurt him, and that was all. It had to keep being enough.

Something in you wanted more, so much more. You could rest because of it. You had stopped fighting your parents now, you were hoping things could change. Maybe you’d find peace again, though you weren’t sure how. You grew weary, tired of hating god and resenting your parents. You wanted so badly to be separate from it all. To no longer have a feeling of guilt hounding you. To no longer hate the church and everyone in it, the teachings and echoes of preaching lingering in your mind. The years you lost there; lost to fear and manipulation. How you hadn’t been able to enjoy a single thing in your adolescence. How after your first kiss you had gone home and sobbed until throwing up. As you were on your knees cleaning it up, trying to hush your cries to not wake your parents, you closed your eyes and pleaded between gasps and hiccups for god not to hate you. How you trembled and sat there until your skin was rubbed raw against the carpet, 

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face and looking around the dark living room from the kitchen. You felt like you could see it; that creature lying on the sofa staring at you. Mouth parted, teeth pointed, its soul-bearing into your own. You turned away with the familiar feeling of guilt washing over your body. Your gaze rested on the floor, but the faint outline of shoes made your brow furrow; your husband wasn’t due home for another hour. Very slowly you pick your gaze up to see the man standing in the hall. Faint light from the open backdoor pooled in behind him. You stared at the young man longer than probably should have. Maybe you should've screamed sooner and ran before he got that close to you but you had frozen in place.

Break-ins didn’t happen around your neighborhood, let alone kidnappings.

What horrible luck that you’d be the first? 

What had you done? What had you done to deserve this?

He carried you out of your house, but still, you couldn’t bring it in you to scream for help. You wondered deep down if anyone would help you. He puts you in the back of his car and drives, the windows down and bitter cold pouring in. You’re lying in the backseat, wrists bound tight. He’d been eerily silent through this whole ordeal.

“How come you haven’t begged me not to kill you yet?” He asked, looking back at you. His voice came jumbling from his mouth fast, a bit irritated. Like he had been frustrated with your lack of struggle.

“Were you going to kill me?” Your skin crawls with goosebumps from the cold. 

He pauses and stares at you, “Do you want me to kill you?” He turns back to watch the road, neither of you answering his question. A long stretch of silence follows, he doesn’t look at you again, not even a glance from the mirror. “I’ve been watching you for a long time. I’m going to give you what you want, and then I’m going to kill you.”

You’re throat dries and your face pales. “You don’t know what I want.” Watching you? You felt an uneasiness come over you as you thought back to what you had done the past few weeks. Nothing to be honest. You had barely left the house. You imagined him peeking through windows, hiding in the yard, and watching you collect groceries and throw the trash away. Had he been in your house before? You look at him, he didn’t seem familiar at all. You’d never seen him around before. 

He dragged you from the car, you didn’t struggle but you remained limp, dead weight for him as he covered your eyes and drug you inside. When inside you feel his boot on you, pressing into your shoulder. Pressing into you, your eyes trail over the shine of leather and then up to him. He was standing above you. Taller, stronger, better than you; that's what he wanted right? You’d stare at him, was this what you wanted?

The house was messy, recently abandoned you assumed. It was clear he had been holding up here for a while. He shoved you on the ground, circling around you as you looked up at him. “What are you going to do?” You ask.

“Gonna kill you.” He admitted earnestly. “I know you, I’ve been watching you for a long time- really, I’m just helping you.”

Was he your savior? Was he doing you a favor? Would he do to you what you had never been brave enough to do yourself? Is this what you truly were? An animal built to serve? To be depraved, to crawl across glass and pour blood for someone like him?

“But I…I don’t want to die.” He gives you this pitiful look; his lips pout and his eyes soften for a moment. As if telling you you didn’t know what you were talking about, and how pitiful it was you couldn’t accept it. “What’s your name?” You ask, feeling silly for being hopeful you might be able to get any information out of him. “Jungkook.” You lower your head, wondering if trying to collect any information for authorities was even worth it. Everything about this man was intimidating. He was larger and stronger, it didn’t matter if you fought or not he could drag you around like a ragdoll all he wanted.

Jungkook gets up and walks around the living room, rummaging through piles of what you assumed were his things. “I’ve been watching you for over a year now.” He admits, “Since you went on vacation for your friend's birthday. You were so drunk at that bar, I was going to kill you then, but something told me not to.” He turns back to you with a small bound notebook in hand. “So I followed you back here and got to know you more. Imagine my shock when I realized you were getting married. Was that trip your last night of freedom, is that why you got so messy?” You stare up at him, unsure of what to say. Yes, it was your last night. You came home and your parents pushed you into marriage sooner because of it. He hands you to the notebook, urging you to open it. “I’ve been watching you since. Your life turned out to be so interesting, I couldn’t just kill you after everything.”

You flip through the pages slowly. Pictures of you and your family. Pictures of you at the altar. Scribbled paragraphs about things he heard others say about you, quotes of things you were sure you had said. Notes and bullet points of every piece of information he got. “So, what do you want to do first?”

“Can I take a bath?” You ask, mind going a bit blank and voice flat as you set the notebook down and try to take it all in. 

He let you. The water was hot and steaming when he pushed you in and closed the door. No windows, no way to get out. You settle into the water, the sweat from stress and anxiety washing off as you try and fail to relax. Could you be forgiven for things not of your control? You sink further into the water. You could hear him outside in the hall pacing. His steps were heavy and loud, ringing in your ears as you stared up at the night, fluorescent bathroom light. They did this to you, they all did this to you. Why were you being punished? Why had Jungkook laid eyes on the most pitiful woman in town and decided it was to be her? You thought about your wedding day, and your husband back home. Maybe if you had just settled, stayed with them, and did your duty as a wife Jungkook wouldn’t have stumbled into your life. Yes. you should have wanted less, you decide. Because it seems Jungkook was ready to give it all to you.

You raise your hands out of the water, the deep imprints of the zip ties he had kept you bound with were still there. Angry and a pale red color. The bathwater around you, swirling unpleasantly around you. The hot, humid air inside the bathroom, the hum of the lights, and the moths flying around them. 

You felt rotten like your teeth were falling out, hanging just barely to your gums. Truly, you felt disgusting. 

Jungkook is in the hall waiting when you finally get out. You looked up at him and saw nothing. No starving dog trying to pretend. No confusion, or games, or lies. He knew what he wanted to be and he was exactly that. He wasn’t lying, pretending, or trying to make you believe his actions were right. He said it outright; he wanted to kill you. He was going to kill you.

“I want my wedding dress” you slowly say.

“You don’t like the one you wore at your wedding, you cried the day you tried it on.” Jungkook glances at you, watching you silently agree with him.

“So you won't get it for me?”

“Don’t you want more?” He asks, “I’ll get you a new dress, whatever one you want.” 

Jungkook stares at you the same way the beast that lingered in the corners of your house did. An eager stare, unrelenting, you couldn’t move out of its sight. “I just want that dress.” You repeat, clasping your hands together and pursing your lips, “You said I could have whatever I wanted…”

A smile stretched his lips, “I’ll get it for you.” 

You lay down on the floor of the backseat of the car. Your hands are zip-tied again, and you can’t see Jungkook from your position. What an odd turn of events to say the least…you had fully expected to die the moment he dragged you out of the car and into that house, but now you could see faint glimpses of familiar landmarks leading to your neighborhood from what you can make out from the window. You think about the day of your wedding, and the events that even led up to your parents making a match for you and pushing for it so hard. Despite how vocal you had been about your unhappiness with everything about your childhood, how much you never wanted to step food into their church again; they held a firm belief that you’d come crawling back. If they shamed and argued and pushed enough you’d come back.

For as much hate you felt, twice the amount of guilt weighed you down. After a while, it all became so hopeless. It was exhausting. It made you sick, you couldn’t do anything without guilt nipping your heels, chasing you down until you drowned in it. You couldn’t live, so you came home. Let them talk you into marriage because it would fix everything, they insisted. You just needed a husband, the stability of it, someone to care about other than yourself. Have a few kids and you’ll start walking the right path again.

You waited, but it never came. You never felt better about any of your choices. Deep down you had known you wouldn’t, but you had spent so much of your life blind. Going back to it didn’t help, it wasn’t even familiar anymore. Nothing ever changed. When will God find time for you again? You live, you do as you’re told. You do everything you’re supposed to, and yet nothing. You live how you’re told. You grow, you work, you’re a wife. You follow and you ignore the hound scratching at your walls. You’ll die soon, you can feel it. When will he come back to you?

You weren’t even sure why you wanted that stupid dress. You weren’t sure if you cared what happened to you, or feared what Jungkook was going to do. Maybe it is comforting, in a weird way. No one paid attention to you, no one bothered with you. They wouldn’t until you changed, and deep down you didn’t want to change. But outside of your life now you had no idea what you would do. You never had higher dreams than staying local and marrying within your church growing up. You didn’t even attend college. You never aspired for more, now it felt like it was too late. Jungkook was talking to you from the driver's seat but you couldn’t hear him. Too enveloped in your head to focus on him, he was spouting things he had found about you the last year or so. How he’d never felt a need to stalk the people went after before, let alone this in depth. It was “life-altering” and you were going to be special to him.

The car stops and you feel a weight on your body; the canine-like creature is standing over you. Paws pressing to your stomach and legs, its breath hot, its ears perked up as Jungkook gets out of the car. You feel an immense guilt weighted on you and you consider stopping Jungkook and telling him to just leave and kill you. 

You didn’t want this. You did want this. You weren’t sure. Your husband was home, he wasn’t going to just let Jungkook in to take what he wanted. 

You lay there for what felt like an eternity until he came back, opening the back door and pulling you out of the car. It’s still dark out, chilly, and unmoving as he hooks his arms under yours and drags you back inside. He sits you down in the entryway and locks the door. You look around. “Where’s-”

“Don’t worry about him.” Jungkook shows your husband's wedding band now on his hand. “Come one” he scoffs, “you knew what I was going to do.”

You stare at him, glance and the very faint outline of the body on your kitchen floor. Had you known? You feel a bit sick, deep down you had hoped for it. He leaves you there to find the wedding dress. Jungkook smiles at you one more time before going towards the back bedroom.

When Jungkook saw you, he had every intention of following you out of that bar to kill you. It was his typical hunting ground. Every few months when the desire struck him again he would wait patiently for the right girl to cross his path. You were hard to ignore that night; annoying, he had half a mind to kill you just to shut you up. But when he followed you outside, watching you slump against the wall and fiddle with your phone he took a moment to watch. Turning away and nursing a cigarette on the opposite side of the entryway. 

The way you sniffled and cried on the phone with your mom, asking if there was any other way than to get married. You were too drunk to give him a coherent story of what you were going through, but apparently, you just hated the dress and the groom so much. He crept closer as you hung up, making some lighthearted comment about how rough you looked, and offered you a cigarette.

You talked a bit more about your ass of a fiance and how you felt like you had no other options anymore. He asked where you were from and you told him. He left you there once your friend found you and would see you again a month later. He’d been crammed in his car for days, a map of the town and surrounding forests resting on his steering wheel as he scribbled out the last few leads he had gotten on where exactly you lived. he looked up and there you were, walking with a group of older women into a boutique down the street, exiting with a pretty wrapped box a bit later. He followed you home, and everywhere after that. Watched you walk down the aisle, the wedding open to all members of the church, and allowing him to walk right in. he watched you go home and cry in the backyard, watched you talk your dress off through the window, watched your husband fuck you for the first time. He watched you sit restless every day after that.

Jungkook found your dress backed away in that same ornate gift box on the top shelf of your closet. He smiled and smoothed a hand over the box. All he knew was that he wanted you, wanted to make you happy, and then he wanted to kill you. Put you out of your misery. You’d be better off, he told himself. Clearly, you needed to be saved, so he’d kill for a better reason this time. 

You were crying when he came back. Looking up at him with red, water eyes and pressing your lips together to try and keep quiet. Jungkook set the box beside you, kneeling in front of you and tilting his head. But all you can see before you is that beast, sitting with flattened ears and tongue hanging from between rotting teeth. Staring at you with those eyes, like they were reflecting everything upsetting right back to you.

“All this guilt, there’s no use feeling it.”

“I can’t help it.” You choke out. “I can’t stop it, I see it- feel it everywhere.” You rubbed your eyes, looking at Jungkook and trying to stop your trembling bottom lip.

“Crying won’t won’t make things different. Just because you’re guilty won’t make this better. Your guilt won’t purify you.” He clicks his tongue, reaching to push your hair out of your face. “You wanted me to kill your husband, and that’s okay.”

“Thank god, the psycho thinks everything is alright. How comforting.” You weep.

“Stop holding back, come on. You want things to change, doesn’t matter how they change right? You hated him, I heard you say it myself so many times. Say it.”

“I wanted him to die.” You admit quietly. Something in you wanted this to happen. Asking Jungkook to come back here, a part of you knew the possibility. “It’s just not fair. It's not fair. I’ve done nothing but what I’m supposed to do. My whole life, I’ve been trying so hard my whole life to be what I’m supposed to be, but I don’t understand. Everything was supposed to be better, but I hated him. I hated him so much. Then you got here and I…I just wanted to feel all the pain that he’s caused, but I can’t even stomach it. I wanna be cruel, don’t I deserve to? I can’t stop crying though.”

Jungkook coos, pulling you into the chest and wrapping his arms around you. “Baby, there’s nothing wrong with that. That’s why I’m here, I want you to let go, want you to just do what you want. I watch you every day. You’re so miserable, it’s so weird. I felt bad for you.” Jungkook muses, “I’m here for you now baby, we only have a few hours left though.”

“Can I put the dress on?” Your voice was low and tired. Jungkook nodded, shifting over to take the box's lid off and peel back the tissue paper wrapped around your wedding dress. He takes it out, unraveling it carefully as you watch. 

Your wedding had been a disaster. You cried through most of it, though no one seemed to care at the time. Your late husband was glad just to have a woman to take home. He wasn’t romantic at all, nothing about him attracted you to him. He was one of the slimier men you had come across in your time in the congregation. He interpreted things how he wanted to, and often reminded you of all the things in your life you had done wrong and had yet to be forgiven for. This was the man your parents hoped to whip you back into shape. It worked in a sense, you supposed. You had been forced to settle. Your hate faded each dull day that passed, you grew weary and unhappier. 

The dress was modest. Long-sleeved, high neckline, mane with heavy ugly satin. You put it on there in the hall, feeling too numb to worry about any shame you had in front of Jungkook anymore. He zipped it up for you. Jungkook was kneeling, fixing the skirt, and letting it fluff out. He smooths it down and looks up at you. Despite the heavy eyes and tear-stricken face he smiled, “You look pretty.” 

No one told you that on your wedding day, no one told you that the day your mother chose the dress for you. You smiled, feeling a small ounce of joy for the first time tonight. “What do you want to do now?” 

You ignore his question, “Is that why you’re doing all of this, are you obsessed with me or something?”

“I guess in some sick way I am.” He wanted to kill you, but at the same time, you were the prettiest girl he’d seen in a long time. Something about the repressed guilt and how you teetered on the edge of breaking completely just got him he supposed. “I watched you the night of your wedding, you were so perfect. Everything was perfect until he came in.” He scowls at the thought, “It’s a shame.”

“Do you want to…” you trailed off, your voice a bit nervous. 

Jungkook’s fingers twitch, he's playing with the trim of your skirt. “I do” he murmured, “I’ve thought about you every night since I met you” He raves, “you’re the only one- why? Why do you make me so crazy?” He asks, brushing off any answer you try to give him. “Want you, need you” He breathed, the fabric of your wedding dress bunching up as he pulled at it.

“I can’t-” you grabbed at his hands. You could feel it, the guilt creeping in. Your eyes land on your wedding ring. Torn with morbid want and a last shred of gut-wrenching guilt, you looked into his eyes. Tempting dark pools stare back at you he grabs at your hand. “We’ve come so far already, don’t stop now. Besides” he makes it a point to flash your late husband's wedding band. “I’m your husband now.” you flush, the words twisting in your ears are wrong; everything about tonight was wrong. It felt like a dream more than reality.

“I know you think I’m attractive” he pushes through the layers of the dress, his hands cold as he rests them on your thighs. “It’s so wrong of you baby” he purrs, “you know I’m gonna kill you, but you want me don’t you?” 

“I know” you whimper, chest heaving as you watch him. His fingers trace against your skin, his hand moving between your legs. 

“When’s the last time your husband touched you?” He asks, “This is what you want, right? You want someone to want you?”

Your fingers twist in his hair, gripping tight as if you were about to fall. Your legs trembled under the weight of guilt and need over what was happening. He was right though, it had been a long time since you felt wanted at all. The moment you had sex the first time those years ago, you knew no one would want you. Not in the church, not here. Impure, a whore. Your mother had even said it when you sobbed and told her. 

Your back arches, your thighs tremble, and you let your grip on his hair loosen. You fear toppling over, your breathing a bit ragged. You felt his lips trace your inner thigh, leaving half-hearted kisses and sinking his teeth into your skin. 

“You look so pretty in your dress.” Jungkook reappears, kneeling before you a minute longer. Fixing the skirt of the dress, smoothing the fabric down then reaching for your hand. He traces the wedding ring a few times.

“Where do you want me to do it?” Jungkook’s question falls on deaf ears. You’re sitting in the passenger side of his car, still wearing a dress and still trying to steady your pounding heart.

Where did you want to die?

Did you want to die?

You were scared of living as much as dying; but was there anything left for you anyways? 

Jungkook you supposed, there was a weird want for him. Maybe it was messed up, he was into you. He took all this time to watch you and wanted you to be happy before you died. You weren’t sure if you were happy. 

Before you got out of high school the town church moved to a new building. A bigger, newer, and nicer one. The old one was small, typical of what you would imagine a small, secluded town’s church would look like. He took you there, unprompted. It was fitting maybe. You walked in front of him and listened to Jungkook load the gun and mutter under his breath. Once inside you stand in place, waiting for him to turn and shoot. You look around the familiar space, your stomach turning, memories of the past playing in your mind. 

The cross mounted above you is entrancing, draped in sheer black fabric, and its shadowy outline is stark against the moon's light. Your eyes flicker back to Jungkook, who seems to have caught onto your staring and also happens to stand before you draped in the moonlight. 

Your last moments would be here. Everything around you felt distorted, and unreal as you looked around another time. 

Staining his hands red and tearing into something clean was all he was. All he wanted. You were both ugly in a sense, he was just more open about it. You look up at him. It’s scary now. You had known what was going to happen from the moment he took you. You knew. You knew he wouldn’t give you a happy ending, only give you a temporary release from everything. He killed your husband, it made you happy. He let you prance around in a wedding dress and pretend one last time you could do it all again. He played well with you, you had been able to push aside the dark truth of your situation for a time. But now he was standing before you, reveling in some kind of glory of it all. Did glory taste different to him? You couldn’t imagine- but was letting him kill that man no different than this? In a way, you had killed your husband, was this all some kind of long, drawn-out punishment for that? For lifelong confusion and defiance?

You hoped someone would find you when you were. Find your carcass and see, understand that you had been, still were, always being ripped open. Torn to pieces and dragged to muddy waters, you hoped they’d know you hadn’t been scared, maybe even welcomed it. Let them know this was love; in some twisted way. Love from Jungkook, or god sending him your way. You stopped believing in god a long time ago, grappled with it for so long, but you hoped he had loved you; at least once. Make the struggle worth it, prove you wrong. Or maybe it was love from yourself for closing your eyes and accepting it. 

Please, let this be love. Let your body be stained with love for once.

taglist: @aft3rhrs

#bts x reader #bts imagine #yandere bts #yandere jeon jungkook #yandere jungkook #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere jungkook imagine

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

can you write a slash fic where reader is usually all sunshine and rainbows, but her facade begins to crack and he realizes just how bad her depression is so he comfort her and just helps her do the little things like basic hygiene? <3

A/n: Love this request, loved writing it, I don't know what you're going through right now but I hope you feel better soon, I can't really do anything as a stranger over the internet but I hope this can help you feel a little better lol <3

Warnings: Angst, depression, that's all I think it's just a lot of fluff, Slash and reader have a shower together but it's not sexual.

You tried your best not to let others know you were suffering, you didn’t want them to be burdened with your own struggles so you kept it quiet. Of course your bandmates knew you weren’t ok, they tried to help you when they could but they had their own things going on.

Last summer your band opened on a short tour for Guns N’ Roses, one of your personal favourite bands. While you were with them you got pretty close to their lead guitarist, Saul Hudson, though everyone just called him Slash. Even so, you enjoyed the nickname Sauly instead, it was cute and annoyed him so it was perfect.

When you got back from the tour you realised you didn’t actually live all too far from animal lover, this led to you visiting him whenever you felt. Slash didn’t mind one bit, you guys would just sit together in a comfortable silence and it was great. You’d watch movies together, you’d cook for his incompetent ass more than you’d like to admit. You two were happy with your little arrangement.

However, this was all just a distraction from what was going on within your band. You weren’t entirely sure what happened since it didn’t directly involve you but you knew your bandmates were arguing an awful lot. Everyone within and surrounding the band knew you guys were about to break up, it was inevitable at this point. You knew, your friends knew, Slash knew.

All of the fights, disagreements and nosy people wanting the freshest gossip was detrimental for your mental health and you stopped visiting Saul. It started out as coming by every day, then every other day, then once a week if you were lucky until you just stopped coming by all together. You hadn’t left your house in almost a month, you’d barely gotten off the couch even with the only exceptions being to go to the bathroom or get more snacks from the kitchen. Quite frankly, you were running out of food that hadn’t spoiled.

Your doorbell rang and waited for whoever it was to leave. Instead of letting them walk away your house was filled with the doorbell ringing repeatedly and loud banging on the door. You could’ve sworn your whole house was shaking.

When the noise persisted you got up, taking your blankets with you, and answered the door. Slash stood before you looking completely panicked. His eyes were wide and he sported a small pout. When he registered that you had opened the door and were now in front of him he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him.

“I thought you fucking died.” He mumbled, shoving his face into your hair and kissing the top of your head. He pulled away enough to look you up and down, taking in your deteriorating state. The bags under your eyes, your slowly hollowing cheeks. Matted hair and dry lips. You were a corpse. “Did you die?” He asked, tilting your head up to look at him.

You turned and walked back to your couch, flopping over and curling in on yourself. Slash watched as you did this, standing idly at your front door.

He walked in and closed the door behind him, now taking in the state of your house. It wasn’t a mess but you didn’t clean so everything was covered with a thick layer of dust. “Fucking Christ.” Slash muttered. He came over and crouched beside you on the couch. “Are you ok?” He asked, tucking a few wiry strands of your hair behind your ear.

“Go away.” You mumbled, hiding yourself further under your blankets.

“Fuck that, answer me, are you ok?” He repeated in a sterner tone. You didn’t respond. Saul took a deep breath and glanced around the room, thinking through his options. “Ok, um... ok, how about we start with a shower?” You shook your head. “It’s ok, I’ll be right there with you.” He gave you a moment before he stood up. “Come on, let’s go have a shower.” He waited another moment before he took you into his arms and pulled you up, holding you to keep you standing.

Slash walked you to your bathroom. He let you lean against the counter while he turned the water on, getting it to the right temperature. When he turned around you were curled up on the ground. He sat down with you and held you to his side. “You need to stand.” He said, his voice soft. “Please, can you stand for me?” He nuzzled his face against yours.

Again he waited a moment for you. Slash stood and walked out of the bathroom, returning a few moments later with a change of clothes for you. Something comfortable that you could wear out of the house. He set the stack of clothes on the counter and crouched in front of you. “I’ll get in with you, I’ll help you get cleaned up and stuff and then we can go out.” He explained to you how he wanted the day to go.

“I-I don’t want to.” You said, your voice no louder than a whisper. Slash rolled his eyes.

“Want to or not, you're doing it.” He took the blanket off of you with minimal effort, you didn’t have the energy to keep hold of it so it practically just slid off when he reached for it. Saul picked you up like a cat, holding you under your arms. “Lean on me, would you?” You did just that, lazily wrapping your arms around him and leaning on him, your head resting on his shoulder.

Slash helped you out of your clothes. You tried to help but not hard, part of you was still hoping that he would just give up on this and let you go back to your couch. He didn’t.

Once you were ready to get in the shower he stripped and got in. He held the curtain open, waiting for you to come in with him. “It’s just water.” He stated, looking up at the shower head. You stood there a moment longer before stepping in. Slash held you from behind for support.

You got used to the warm water hitting your skin. Slash started lathering you with soap, being careful around your more sensitive parts to make this more comfortable for you. When he started washing your hair he’d scratch your scalp and massage the shampoo and then conditioner into your hair. He made sure to be careful when washing it out of your hair, not wanting to get anything in your eyes.

“Are you ready to get out?” He asked, leaning down to your ear. You shook your head.

“A few more minutes.” Slash chuckled but happily stayed in the shower with you. Still holding you close he rocked you from side to side, kissing your cheek occasionally. You knew you had to get out of the shower eventually but you just wanted to stay here with him. “Thank you.” You mumbled, holding his hands as they rested on your stomach.

“It’s my job to take care of you.” He said.

“It’s not though, you didn’t have to come by.” You told him.

“Bullshit, you’re fucking mine and I take care of my things.”

#guns n roses fluff #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses #slash #slash fic #slash fanfiction #slash gnr #slash fluff #angst #guns n roses angst #saul hudson x reader #saul hudson

[jesterwriting]

(for that timeloop post,, uhm this relates to the whole body horror thing ((not too much just a brief mention)) so if rn u don't wanna see that SCROLL AWAY!!! OR DELETE ME!! OK disclaimer ends here)

oh man but what if Law did say room anyway and there were impossible scars on your insides... like littered everywhere, they're not fresh but old, almost phantoms that make no sense, because if they were real you would've died. how would he react to that? maybe not when he noticed them crying but after weeks or months, dunno, where they keep skipping his more thorough check-ups (where he uses his devil fruit) since they're anxious about the pains? and think that somehow there are signs of their previous deaths and the mention of them makes it hurt more and more and they just can't do it. but they can't bring themselves to say it because who could possibly believe them? if Law doesn't, it would just feel even worse, won't it? even if they understand his point of view. maybe they even die in front of him and it gets harder to just hold all of that in,,, oh boy. if you think about continuing your oneshot i'll eat it like a starving animal!

pairing: law x gn!reader

contents: slight body horror, slight gore, timeloops, suicide done to restart the loop, hurt/comfort, happy ending,

word count: 1.6k words

note: OHHHHH I LOVED THIS IDEA OH MY GOD. absolutely so smart. anon your mind is huge and i had so much fun doing this request. <33 i really hope you enjoy :33

playlist: caribou - tanya tagaq

a sister fic to this

This had never happened before. You had experienced hundreds of loops, maybe even thousands, and this was the first time Law saw fit to scan you with his Devil Fruit.

Maybe you were getting sloppy. You had a strong immune system so you never got sick, and the first time Law scanned you for your general checkup upon joining the crew, there was nothing of note. You wondered what changed, as if you hadn’t died more times since you joined his crew than you had in your entire life. Maybe it was because the more you suffered, the more reckless you became, throwing yourself into the fray with little regard for yourself. You could take a bullet for your crewmates, so you would. It was as simple as that.

There was a first time for everything, you supposed. A first death, a first breath, a first kill; there were uncountable firsts that one could experience, and you had experienced most of them.

Not this one, though.

You had tried to avoid it for as long as possible. Your captain was a man who carried burdens, ones almost as heavy as the ones on your shoulders. If he knew how many times he failed you — or how many times you failed him — you knew he would take all the blame for himself. As if you hadn’t been the one lying, and fighting, and dying over the course of countless lifetimes.

Law blinked a few times before his brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. You fidgeted under his stare. If his reaction was anything to go by, he found something horribly wrong with you. While you had experienced slow deaths before, you had never experienced what it felt like to waste away from disease. Maybe you’d find out this loop, you thought, trying to feel nonchalant about the idea and not like you were about to throw up.

“Um. What’s wrong,” You tried.

Law shushed you, the blue glow from his room still surrounding you. You bit your tongue, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt to try and take your mind off of whatever he could have found.

“This can’t be right,” He muttered, one hand cradling his chin. He pointed to your chest. “There’s a scar inside of you, it looks like a puncture wound through your lungs. When did that happen?”

Three loops ago when you fell off a building and onto some rebar. That was a particularly awful death. The last thing you remembered before everything went black was Law’s panicked expression as he tried to put you back together again. There was terror in his eyes. You tried not to think about that part.

“And here,” Law continued, pointing to your abdomen. “There’s a scar running across the length of your stomach. It almost looks as if you were previously disemboweled.”

You had been. Multiple times. It was a common and very disturbing loop ender that you tried to avoid if you could. Watching your organs fall out of you in a steaming heap was never something you liked to experience, but for some reason, your opponents kept aiming for the gut. You wished they’d aim for the heart or the head more often. At least then it’d be quick.

He didn’t stop there, jaw falling open when he stared directly where your heart was. “When were you stabbed, Y/N-ya, this looks recent.” Law blinked a few times before realization dawned on his features. His eyes shot to your face, expression going from open to unreadable in seconds. “How did you survive without my intervention?”

Your mouth was dry. How were you supposed to respond? There was no way you could tell him that you had died on his watch more times than you could count. Law didn’t deserve that. Your captain was a good man, one you loved admired far too much to allow this to weigh him down. He would take your failures to heart, completely discounting the amount of times that he had saved you from having to start anew.

You must have been quiet for too long because Law was speaking again. “Answer me.”

“It’s from a long time ago,” You said.

That was a lie. It was from the previous loop. A quick death by your own hand over the cold corpse of your captain. If Law didn’t survive, there was no point in continuing, and if there was one thing you had grown accustomed to, it was taking your own life after one loss too many. You knew how to make it quick, no suffering. So with a precise hand, you drove your knife into your chest and let the timeline begin anew.

When you saw Law again, whole and alive, you vomited. You were under the impression that he believed that you simply ate some bad seafood, but from the concern that was slowly etching its way onto his features, you weren’t so sure of that now.

“Don’t lie to me.” Law’s eyes flashed, barely contained frustration needling at the corners of him. “None of this makes any sense, half of these injuries should have killed you. The other half would have needed to be treated.”

The truth sat on the tip of your tongue. You felt selfish and needlessly cruel for your desire to tell Law what was really happening. Your eyes burned, and their glassy sheen didn’t go unnoticed. Law handed you a tissue, expression softening.

“I- um.” You hated how your voice cracked. It had been a long time since you told someone about your Devil Fruit. You always died, and they always forgot. For a long time, you thought it was better that way, carrying this weight on your own. The way Law looked at you, though, it made you want to pour your soul out to him. Every pain, every loss, every death lain at his feet, and for once, you could stand unburdened. “It’d be wrong of me to tell you.”

Law’s eyebrows knit together. “Now you’re being stupid.”

“No, I’m not. You’ll regret asking once you know. Don’t pretend like you don’t carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, you don’t deserve my troubles on top of that. It’s better for both of us if you just forget what you saw.”

With that, you stood and made to brush past Law and out of the room. He grabbed you by the shoulder, not allowing you to go any farther. Though his grip was firm, it didn’t hurt. If you really wanted to, you could wrench yourself away from him.

“You’re trembling.”

Your lower lip wobbled, your resolve ebbing away by the second. “It’s complicated.”

“So tell me.” Law’s lips twitched upwards ever so slightly. “Doctor’s orders.”

You let out a small huff. He didn’t deserve this, but there would always be another loop. This current one hadn’t been going so well, and by your estimation, it would take at least three more before you managed to reach your next checkpoint. It wouldn’t hurt to tell Law what he inevitably wouldn’t remember. You steadied yourself with a deep breath and turned to face him, his eyes met yours with a mix of concern and exasperation.

“It’s my Devil Fruit,” You started. Law leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms, attention solely on you. Your heart thundered in your chest. “I’ve died so many times.” Without your permission, your breath hitched. Law’s hand encircled your own with a small squeeze, encouraging you to continue. “It, um, brings me back, I guess. I’ll die, and then wake up in the bunkhouse days earlier, and I’ll be the only one who remembers what happened. All those scars you saw were what killed me in a previous loop.”

He was silent while he chewed on his words.

“How many times have you died since you joined my crew,” Law finally asked.

Your hand was still in his and you gave it a squeeze. “That’s not fair. I know what you’re doing and I won’t let you do it.”

Law’s shoulders slumped as he brought his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I believe you. It explains a lot. I noticed you cry in your sleep sometimes.”

“You watch me sleep?” The tips of Law’s ears were tinged pink while you laughed.

“I was worried so I checked on you.” With a sigh, he began to lead you out of the clinic to his office. “Come on, you’re telling me everything you can remember. We’re going to come up with a plan.”

Humoring him, you followed close on his heels. It didn’t matter how long or how hard you planned, there was no accounting for the unpredictability of the universe. This comfort wouldn’t last long. Soon, you would be dead again and the cycle would start anew. That didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy sharing a space with your captain, listening to him meticulously craft tactics to keep you, and everyone else, alive.

It wasn’t until four days later you found yourself breathing, though covered head to toe in blood, with the rest of the crew. Everyone was safe and sound, and Law wouldn’t stop looking at you with a smirk on his face. When you found yourself next to him, he bumped his shoulder against yours.

“I told you my plan would work.”

Just like that, for the first time in your life, you were no longer alone.

#one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x yn #trafalgar law x you #.jesterwrites #rezero fans you know whats up

[heli0s-writes]

I would sacrifice like thirty virgins for a Steve body worship fic 🥲 (Also I agree with u he would be more of a giver than a receiver imo)

a/n: omg ty for your patience. here’s 775 words of my usual triple venn diagram of love, sex, & religion heretic shit. please stop reading if you’re not 18+

brooklyn after dark masterlist

“hymnostic”*

Loving a monument can be lonely work.

He’ll never be just yours because he belongs to the world. He’s Captain America, the people’s liberator, and he goes where he’s called.

He always tries to come back, though. He wanders off to war, fights his way toward peace, brokers with nations and planets and disappears for months.

Sometimes he gets home and he’s still in that headspace. That indomitable bearing, uncompromising gaze, protruding chin with a curl of a snarl winding up his lips because he’ll be damned before he kneels to a single thing.

And okay, maybe he lives there. Maybe he struggles to take it off.

Sometimes he snaps. Gets his fist on a cabinet door and this quiet kind of fury rises up to the top of his head. And it’s stupid, because it’s not your fault, so you react— wild animal fear jolting across your face— and it kills him a little that he’s brought violence to your door.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, rubbing his temple. “Shit, I didn’t mean it.”

And he fixes it the only way he knows how—with his inelegant fingers reaching for yours.

-

He could live here. Stay pressed up against you forever—screw catastrophes, invasions, warfare.

Steve pulls the sweater over your head, palms your breasts with one hand and tugs your panties down with the other.

He hasn’t made it to the bed yet, caught on a tangent in the middle of the floor.

He kisses along your neck and jaw and flicks his thumb over a nipple quick and gentle until you shiver and arch into him.

He murmurs, “I’ll always come back to you.” And he means it. Not just physically, but his weary little soul, too. He might struggle to take off his suffering, but he’s a newborn child in your arms. He’s the best part of himself.

He follows the curve of your body— your collarbone, your shoulder, your belly, then places your hands in his hair.

Your fingers automatically card through, curling softly to move him where you like him best. Slowly, he falls to his knees, spreading your thighs until you step apart.

You sigh his name, breathy and high. You say it again, pulling his hair when he sucks at your clit, fitting a finger in to the knuckle until you squirm.

He trails sloppy lines up your slit, delving in with his entire face because he wants you all over it—wants to be marked. Wants your scent and come and the bright blush of his cheeks in celebration, like declaring to all who worship him that he worships something else.

Who baptizes him with her kiss and cunt and he’s hungry for it—hungry for salvation because he’s exhausted of always being the savior.

He's not a martyr or a saint. He’s only a man set on a path and despite his many travels, all of his roads keep leading to you.

Falling in love changed him—made him breakable because now there was more to lose. Before you, if he died, the world would lose a monument. A votive figurine dedicated to justice, but you carved him into something more.

You carved him into yourself.

Made space for all of him and loved him with your whole, beautiful heart.

He guides you backwards until you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, thighs spread and dripping, breathing heavy, eyes half lidded with pleasure he caused.

Your soft skin is gorgeous and glistening. Your pussy is shiny with his spit.

“Steve,” you say, focused and sharp, curling one finger at him. “Get your mouth back on me, now.”

Pride swells up in his chest. What he wouldn’t give for the world to know this: their perfect savior crawling on the floor, stupid with desire.

And for all their idolatry, for all the pieces they take of him and scatter to their many causes, he’ll always still be yours.

And he thinks, as he returns his face to your sex, his cock throbbing between his own legs but he ignores it for now— he’s not important, for now— that if you were to ever tell him to stay in bed forever, he just fucking might.

Steve hasn’t been inside a church since the 40’s, but his hands are on you like praise and prayer, lips carving a hymn, tongue blindly following each kiss. He laments the time he’s not spent in your glory, begs for any small deaths you can spare.

He doesn’t get on his knees for anything, but surrender overtakes him as the sky begins to gather dusk.

He keeps vigil at your feet until dawn.

#steve rogers imagines #steve rogers smut #captain america smut #steve rogers x reader #mcu #fanfiction

[lailoken]

A while back, my husband and I took in an injured rooster we found wandering a rural highway. We called him Gentle Pete, as he was unusually docile and affectionate. He recovered well from his initial injuries and had a happy life with our chickens for several months. Recently, however, he appears to have suffered a stroke. We were sad to see him struggling, but we dedicated ourselves to giving him a loving and comfortable last few days. To prevent him from being picked on, we brought him into our greenhouse and set up a little shelter and feed station for him. He spent much of his time sitting in potted plants and letting us gently stroke his back or feed him treats.

He finally passed away as a result of his health issues, but he died peacefully while sleeping in his favorite plant (a small lemon tree). I am grateful for chances like these to not only spread kindness to animals in need, but to familiarize myself with Death as an old and loving godparent.

#death #chthonic #rooster #animal death #cw animal death #personal #sending you love & prayers gentle pete

[mydarllinglover]

Stars Collided || Twelve

Previous

The two had returned in the early hours of the next day.

Lovisa hadn’t done anything but sit around and wait for them, she couldn’t even sleep, and refused, where Beru had offered her a bed.

The Princess’s chest ached, as she watched Anakin carry his mothers body, towards the farm, and without saying anything to his new family, he continued, into their home.

"Snips." Lovisa looked at her friend, who seemed deeply troubled, she was breathing heavy too, and her hands slightly shook. "What happened?"

"Lovey." Ahsoka grabbed hold of her wrist, and pulled her away from the three, so that they could talk in private.

"What happened back there?" Lovisa asked, once again, now that they were alone.

"Vis, it was horrible, no child should have to see their parent like that, like she was. She was still alive, when we got there, but, oh, god, it was bad, so, so bad, she had been suffering for so long, tied up to some rack. Then she… she died in his arms."

"Fuck." The princess cursed, completely taken back, as she clutched her chest.

"That's not all, after she died, something in him just sort of snapped, I couldn't break him out of it, I couldn't, I tried, Lovey, but I failed."

"What? What did he do?" Lovisa asked, growing even more worried.

"You should ask him, yourself, I can't repeat it." Ahsoka then walked away from her, shaking her head.

They had held a small funeral for Shmi Skywalker, Anakin had been the one to dig his mothers grave, and bury her beneath.

Lovisa and Ahsoka had stood by the side, as her family surrounded her.

"You were the love of my life." Cliegg spoke. "Kind, gentle, and generous, to anyone who needed it, no matter what situation was going on in your own life, you taught me to be a better person, and my biggest regret is not having enough time with you."

Anakin had requested some time alone with his mother, and they had all granted it to him.

But eventually, Lovisa had decided she’d given him enough space, and it was time to get answers.

She had found him in one of the farms workshops, he was stood at a work bench, messing around with some parts, fixing them, she realised.

"Life seems so much more simple, when you're fixing things." He said, his voice came out harsh, as he held back all his emotions, his throat was dry, as well, from the desert sand.

"Anakin..." Lovisa started. "What happened back there?"

Anakin kept his head down, as he continued to work on some sort of charm.

"Ani" She sighed, taking a step closer to him. "Whatever it was, Ahsoka seemed really troubled by it. Whatever happened, you can tell me. Please, please tell me."

Her heart beat loudly, as she waited for a reply, she slightly chewed on her lip.

"I told her not to come, but she didn't listen."

"I asked her to go with you." Lovisa replied.

"You shouldn't have done that." He glared at the girl.

"I just want to understand." She laid a hand on his shoulder.

He took a deep breath, before seeming to change his mind about calming down, turning on her, sharply.

"I killed them." He snapped at her. "I killed them all. Not just the men, but the women, and the children, too, I slaughtered them!" His voice rose, as did his anger, at the memory of last night. "They're like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals, every single one of them. I hate them!"

Lovisa gasped at what he had admitted, what he confessed to her.

"They tortured her, for a month, she suffered and I couldn't help her, they wouldn't let me go to her! They're jealous of me, the council and Obi-Wan, they're jealous of me, and they're holding me back, I could have prevented it, but they wouldn't allow it, made out that I was the weak one, but If I had done something, she'd still be alive. I'm stronger and more powerful, than them, and they can't stand it."

Lovisa had nothing to say to him, she couldn't offer anything, she stared at him in pure shock.

"She's dead, my mother is dead, and I didn't help her." His anger had changed into sadness, as tears pulled from his eyes. "She's gone, she's gone forever, and I'm never going to see her again." He wept.

In his anger, Anakin had stepped closer to the girl, and now, as he allowed his grief to consume him, he fell into her arms, dropping his head onto her shoulder, as he continued to cry for his mother.

Lovisa wrapped her arms around him, offering him comfort that he soar out from her.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, as she soothingly played with it.

"It's okay." She whispered to him. "It's okay, she's at peace now, she's not suffering anymore, it's okay."

Anakin hadn’t been able to pull himself together, for some time, and Lovisa had held him, her fingers rubbing his scalp, as she rubbed his back, saying soothing things, into his ear, until eventually he rose to his full height, and was able to carry on with life, as if any of it hadn’t happened.

The three had decided that they would need to return back to Naboo, and to the Lake district, seemingly as their chapter had been wrapped up here, and there was still a threat looming over the princess's head.

Lovisa sat between her two friends, no one would say anything, but the tension was thick.

"We need to stop, for the night." Ahsoka decided, suppressing a yawn.

"No, we'll keep going." Anakin refused, as he fought to keep his eyes open.

"We haven't slept in almost four days, Skywalker, you've drifted asleep enough times to know we should stop, and Lovisa can barely keep her head up."

"She's fine, she can sleep if she wants to." Anakin rolled his eyes, as he kept the arm that the girl was currently leaning on, still.

"We're stopping." Ahsoka pushed.

"It's more important that we get back."

"We're stopping?" Lovisa shot up, seeming alert, at the prospect of sleeping in an actual bed.

"Yes."

"No."

"Look, there's an Inn, over there, at least until sunrise, we all could use it, even the pups."

"Yes, we'll stay at the Inn, for the remaining of the night, it will do us all some good." Lovisa decided.

"Vis-" Anakin went to refuse, but when he looked at her, he knew he couldn't. "Fine, but as soon as the sun is up, we're gone."

Upon seeing the three teenagers, the innkeeper, a plump elderly woman, had given them two bedrooms, one for the boy, and one for the two girls, as she had told them that it was improper for the three of them to share, and so they had no choice but to accept the keys, as they hid their puppies under their cloaks.

"Did you talk to Skywalker?" Ahsoka had asked, as the two laid in bed, together, facing one another.

"I did." Lovisa admitted.

"And?"

"He told me what happened." She sighed.

"What, and that's all you have to say about it?"

"What else am I supposed to say, Snips?"

"Lovey, he killed an whole village of people, I watched him do it, there were innocent people there."

"You didn't seem to have a problem with it, when he dealt with those men in the forest."

"Because it was a completely different situation. They were trying to kidnap you, and they weren't children."

"They killed his mother, kept her alive enough to torture her, and then she died in his arms. And Cliegg said himself that they were barely human, but monsters."

"But the whole village? Not all of them could be."

"I trust Anakin, he did what he thought was right."

"He did it for revenge." Ahsoka cut her off.

"Were they really innocent if they were there, they would have just grown up to their surroundings, done it to others, others who are innocent, no one deserves to go through what Shmi did, it could happen to you, or me, or anyone. Anakin would never kill someone who didn't deserve it."

"He's a Jedi, Lovisa, it's against the code to kill an unarmed person."

"He will never do something like this, again, I promise you, Ahsoka, he's a good person. He's the chosen one."

"Look, I like him, Lovey, I do, but can we really trust him?"

"We can, he would never do anything to harm us, God picked him, for a reason, and he wouldn't make a mistake, like that. We have to keep this to ourselves, and pretend it never happened, he did the world an favour by getting rid of such evil creatures."

"You really believe that?"

"I do."

"Then I guess I can convince myself of that, too." Ahsoka looked down, as she chewed on her lip, deep in thought.

Lovisa sat up, lifting the duvet off of her.

"I should go check on him." She thought out loud.

Ahsoka didn't reply, instead, turning around on her other side, her back facing the princess.

Lovisa took this as a good response, to leave.

She stood in front of the door to his room, for the night, in just a pale blue silk night gown, thinking about what she was going to say to him.

She forced herself to knock on the wood, before thinking about it, and as she begun to regret her decision, and call herself all sorts of insults, it opened.

There he stood, he wasn't wearing an item of clothing on his top half, and was in his black trousers, like always.

Lovisa felt her cheeks grow red, as she pried her eyes off of his chest, and looked up at his face, his hair hung in front of his eyes, as he looked down at her, leaning his forearm on the door frame.

"Vis?" He asked.

She blinked. Twice.

"Anakin." She said, she couldn't think of anything else.

"What are you doing, here?" he studied her. “Awake.”

Lovisa swallowed, before taking a breath, then remembered why she did come here.

"I wanted to check up on you, make sure you're doing okay." She told him. "Are you doing okay?"

He looked past her, not having an answer.

"I am not sure." He replied, honestly.

"Would it help if I kept you company?" Lovisa found herself saying.

"You wanna come in?" He furrowed his brows.

"If you'll allow me."

He nodded, his eyes on the floor.

"I'd like that." Anakin looked at her, as his eyes swam with emotion.

She smiled at him, a kind, comforting smile.

Next

#anakin fanfiction #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #anakin x you #obi wan and anakin #star wars anakin #sw anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader smut #ahsoka tano #anakin star wars #anakin smut #anakin and padme #anakin skywalker x reader

[nerdasaurus1200]

I saw Dragon Prince season 4 and hoo boy do I have thoughts (in no particular order)

First off, it's adorable how much of a magic nerd Callum is. He's grown so much and become so much stronger in two years

Stella is baby. She's living her best life with her cuddlemama and future cuddle papa. Speaking of, let Callum becalled a cuddlepapa by himself or Rayla next season

Zym and Ezran have grown up so much and it both breaks and warms my heart

Okay, so Rayla is a Dragonguard. Good to know.

Terry is my son now. I adopted him, he's mine.

I feel like Callum is just a little bit jealous of Stella getting love from Rayla

“The other elves saw me as a doe, but I knew. I always knew that I was a buck. I..chose the name Terrestrius.”....This line here. This line is gonna stick with me forever. I honestly didn't expect them to outright tell or show us Terry is trans but I'm so glad. That's gonna mean so much to trans kids watching this show. And the fact that Viren has no problems with it at all makes it even more special. Although Terry's wording makes me wonder if someone in his family didn't accept him.

Oh man I just read his wiki page and apparently Terry is still mid transition

I'm calling it now, that girl that figured out Araavos is Harrow and Ezran's descendant

Well, at least we know how loyal Terry is to Claudia.....someone get this poor boy a mug of hot cocoa, a blanket, a hug, and a therapist; he's earned it. He was 100% having a panic attack

"I'm gonna feel all the feelings!" THAT'S RIGHT YOU GO MY FUNKY BOY

I KNEW IT! I KNEW RAYLA'S PARENTS WERE IN THE COINS!GOD POOR RAYLA! ETHARI AND CALLUM ARE GONNA LOSE THEIR SHIT!

Hot damn, Ezran's speech combined with Ibis and Claudia fighting was powerful...that whole scene really encapsulates what the entire show is about, I think

Zubeia gets more and more badass with every episode

I wasn't expecting the chocolate tart to be brought back but it's nice that Rex Igneous liked it. Although how could he taste so much of such a little thing?

Ohhhhh wait, I just got that! Rex means king, he's KING Igneous!

Oh man I had no idea Ezran's crown is made from Harrow's sword

That possesion scene was straight up creepy, I honestly thought Callum died for a second

Speaking of creepy, I never wanna see snake Claudia again, please and thank you

I know Callum is angry at Rayla but he needs to talk to her, really. I feel like he's using the possession thing as an excuse to not talk about their relationship. Like, I do think he's genuinely shaken up by it but he's choosing to focus on that because it's easier

Soren...god, Soren has changed so much. In just 3 years, this boy has gone from picking fights with dragons and being eager to kill them to not being able to turn away from a dragon in need. He even shed his armor for her. Season 1 Soren would NEVER have done that in a million years

Another thing S1 Soren would never do is that talk with Claudia. Man, that was deep.

Also I love Soren's new look, I feel like it suits him way better than his knight armor

I dunno why I expected an out of the gate dramatic conversation when Soren found Claudia. Although I am glad we still got them having that conversation

I will say though, I do wish we got more of a reaction to Terry from Soren

Can Squeaky return next season as Soren's dragon pal? Please? he's the only one that doesn't have an animal companion

"I wanna spend the last month traveling with my daughter, the most important person in the world to me" I....it's nice that you're finally learning to not be a jackass Viren, but did you forget that you have a son??? Is Soren just chopped liver to you?

That said, I do appreciate that Viren has changed. I feel like he's definitely not gonna become immortal.

Regarding Claudia's speech about human suffering....either she's been fed TONS of propaganda by Araavos or she's taking it way too personally after all this time. Like, girl, you have an elf boyfriend, calm down

Awww the return of big feelings time!

#tdp #the dragon prince #tdp spoilers #the dragon prince spoilers #nerd talks #claudia #terry #viren #rayla #callum #harrow #ezran #araavos #rex igneous #soren #zym

[jellyfishloveletterghosts]

My Harringrove AU List A-M

Part 2 - N-Z

Afterlife

I Missed You - Steve dies and is reunited with Billy in the afterlife.

Android

Build-A-Man - Mrs. Harrington buys Steve an android to take care of him, he doesn't particularly like it but Billy isn't going anywhere.

Animal Hybrids

Bunny - Billy comes home to his bunny.

Collars - Catboy Steve has a collection of collars.

Nest Material - Billy has been stealing bits of hair and fur from Steve since he got to town. Today it comes to a head.

Night Time Rituals - Catboy Steve and Billy’s bedtime ritual. 

Eggcellent - Steve is just trying to do his job and get his eggs delivered but finds himself waylaid by a determined wolf.

Seashells and Books on Tape - When Billy gets to Hawkins he finds his mate, the only problem is Billy can't get his mouth to work right around him so he has to find other ways to make his intentions known.

Bender (AtLA)

Fight Night - Steve and Billy are forced to fight. When Steve throws the match it pisses Billy off. 

New Trick? - Steve likes to fuck with Billy when he’s angry.

Childhood Friends to Loves

Helping Hand - Steve has hang ups about touching his own dick preventing him from masturbating, Billy offers him a helping hand.

Kill For You - Steve accidently killed Neil when they were kids, Billy has been protecting him ever since and he'll never stop.

College/University

Bidder, Bidder Won’t You Take Me Home - Steve is up for auction for a charity event Carol's sorority is hosting, after seeing Billy he wants his bid. (Werewolf/Succubus) 

Drink Me - Billy adds a little something special to Steve's coffee every morning. (Coffee Shop Au)

Insecurities of Drinking - Steve gets insecure when he is drinking and seeing some drunk girl kiss Billy doesn't help.

It’s A Date - Billy's advisor insists he needs to take a refresher course, Billy doesn't want to be there until Steve Harrington of all people walks in.

Worm - Billy takes issue with Steve's sweater.

Crime Boss

Trigger Happy - Steve doesn't like it when Billy shows up with injuries.

Curses

Care and Feeding - Billy comes to town and befriends Steve. Billy would like to pursue more than that but he is determined to wait until Steve gets over his recent heartbreak. (Werewolf/Fairy)

Deaged

The Babe With The Power (Series) - Steve ends up a much younger version of himself and Billy happens to be his favorite person.

Demigods

Death and Flowers - Steve ventures down into the underworld to retrieve Dustin’s soul, Billy offers him a deal in return for it.

Demons

Demon Steve/Mob boss Billy - Steve follows his nose to Billy and instead of getting a soul gets a date. 

Disabilities

All In The Hands - Billy isn't sure how surviving Starcout leads to the kids deciding he's friend material but he'd be lying if he said he minded. Especially when they help him learn sign language and get a date.

As Many Times As You Want - Steve is a little drunk and he finally takes Billy up on an offer he has been making for months.

Helper Billy - Steve suffers from neurological issues and Billy is hired to help him in his day to day life.

Farmer

The Fairy In The Garden - Billy finds an unexpected visitor in his garden. (Werewolf/Fairy)

Fairy 

How to Catch a Boyfriend - Billy wanders into the forest and meets a fairy. He's sure Steve and the fairy are one in the same and all he wants to do is keep them.

Christmas - Just some Hc’s for HtCaB during the holiday. 

FemHarringrove

Best Behavior - Stevie needs to be on her best behavior and Billie makes sure she will be. (Royalty)

California - Stevie invites Billie out to California for her birthday.

The Hawkins Roller Rink - Billie Goes exploring when she gets to Hawkins and see the most beautiful girl on skates.

Melt - Billie fucks Stevie with a popsicle.

Straight From The Source - Billie takes the long path to get what she wants, luckily it works out.

Sweatpants - Billie just wants to see her girlfriend in some pants.

Tastes Like Sunshine - Billie has dinner waiting when Stevie gets home. (Werewolf/Vampire)

Flayed/Killer

Black in The Moonlight - The mind flayer thinks they need to get rid of Steve until they follow him.

Let Me Mu-Marry You - They take someone Steve wanted.

Flayed/Powers

The Grower and The Shower - Steve reveals his powers to save everyone at the last minute, Billy checks on him in the aftermath.

Furries

Come Sit On My Lap - Billy borrows his new work uniform. It definitely awakens some things even if Steve is not willing to admit he is into it too.

Furry Billy - Billy making his own suits

Genderfluid/Genderqueer

It’s Cold But Your Mouth It’s Burning - Billy likes wearing makeup he’s not expecting Steve to think it looks good on him.

Washed Pink - Steve gets his cheap little red heart shaped sunglasses after sleeping with Tammy, and they end up being friends. Steve really likes the way he looks in those sunglasses, the way the world looks, turns out Billy really liked them too.

Haunting (Real or Imagined)

Baby Steve and the Ghosts - this isn’t technically harringrove but honorable mention because if I ever actually add more it’s supposed to be harringrove. - Steve is born during a winter storm and the ghosts think of him as theirs.

Ghost Deterrent -  Billy is bored and wants nachos, Steve is bathing in the dark and has nachos. Billy gets more than nachos.

You’re A Vision - Billy dies but he's not gone, he spends most of his time haunting Steve.

Headless Horseman

Pumpkin Head - Headless Horseman Billy and his witchy partner having some fun in the pumpkin patch.

Magic

A Different Kind of Love Spell - Steve leaves the castle on his tenth birthday looking to gain parental love. (Royalty)

Dandelion Wishes - Billy finds a dandelion as a child and makes a wish for someone that will love him forever.

It’s Your Birthday, We Can Cry If We Want To - Every year Steve makes a cake and every year he summons Billy Hargrove from beyond the grave.

Kitchen Witch - Steve has magic, he just doesn't know it. He doesn't believe Dustin no matter how many times he insists that Steve's food is magic, because that is preposterous. Slowly others start to recognize that Steve has magic too, and then Billy comes along with accusations of a love potion when Neil gets a hold of some cookies Steve made and starts acting nice.

Magic Touch – Werewolf Billy steals Steve’s sex sleeve and has no idea what he’s really gotten ahold of. 

Magical Boy

Mantle of The Black Cat - Things are looking really bad at the junkyard so Steve makes a deal with a talking cat.

Mechanic

Perkin’s Repair Shop - Billy’s car breaks down, his car can’t be fixed today but his day can.

Minotaur

Minotaur Billy - Steve enters the labyrinth to help out Robin and there he meets Billy.

Modern

Dick Pic - Billy sends Steve a dick pic. The response he gets is better than he hoped for. 

Making Friends - Steve hasn't made any friends in his fandom, Billy tries to help.

Pretty Boy - Billy starts texting Steve while he is out of town, when he gets home he comes for Steve. 

Squish Me - Steve is a content creator who mostly posts about Squishmallows. Billy doesn't care about the mallows but he still watches all of Steve's videos.

Take a Dirty Picture for Me - Billy and Max have a deal she takes pictures of Steve for him and he leaves her friends and her alone. Steve find out and Billy makes a new deal, Steve takes the pictures Billy wants and he continues to leave them be. Billy wants more than candids though and things heat up.

Tickle - Steve has been playing the same song for hours, Billy is going to put a stop to it. 

The View - Billy works at the Hot Topic in the mall and Steve works in the Sanrio store right next door.

Your Little Shit - Steve treats himself to some lingerie and Billy just happens to be around when his box full of pretty lacy things comes in. Billy insists Steve try them on so he can act as his second opinion.

Models

Model Behavior - Billy finally gets to do a shoot with Steve 'The Hair' Harrington and he could not be happier with the way it turns out. 

MPreg

The Belly - Billy insists on taking pictures of Steve's stomach as soon as they get the positive test.

Musicians

Video Killed the Radio Star - Billy gets a lot of flack for defending a fan against a creeper. Billy finally meets the fan he defended.

Part 2 - N-Z

#Harringrove #Jellyghostfic #fanfiction #st fic #billy hargrove x steve harrington

[gemma-tan]

I’m back?

I never technically left (I’ve been lurking…)

Some (or a lot) of updates:

I’m a they/she and still coming to terms with the fact that I might be a lesbian gay asf. I would still marry any of these men though.

I was not of legal age when I started this blog but I’m turning 22 in 2 weeks. Go figure. Also, happy Aries season (my birthday is in between Yamato’s and Otoya’s <33).

UtaPri is still my entire life (ofc.)

I will forever love Camus but somehow my obsession with Yamato is undefeatable. This is me admitting without really admitting that Yamato is the loml.

I still keep up with what’s going on, I own & buy most of the CDs (since 2017)! Recently money is tight and I am suffering without them tho T_T (There are definitely worse things going on in the world rn. Free Palestine btw)

I’m trying to play the games rn before Dolce Vita comes out (I still have time before they announce more ab it T-T) but I’m also trying to finish every other otome game I own & I haven’t actually touched UtaPri in months…….

I live in LA and I attend any UtaPri events at the anime expo when I can! Last one I went to was shining star stage love in dream back in 2022

Maybe I’m still an imagines blog. Tbh the whole thing was my biggest dream was to be a writer & then the dream died in 9th grade (around the time I died)… but recently after a whole anxious, depressive, ADHD (& possibly autistic) journey & learning to be happy again, I kinda wanna write again. One of the many things that bring me joy rn.

Anyway, pls feel free to reach out I’ve been feeling like meeting new ppl lately! Or reconnecting if we ever interacted in the past (I fear I might not remember I’m so sorry), but I have a lot of other hobbies & music interests besides utapri!! I am not the quickest of responders tho & I am sorry for that

Oh. Yeah. I definitely saw QN’s best solo album. (This might actually have been my revival inspiration. Very powerful. No notes needed. I actually couldn’t breathe for a good 10 minutes—)

oh I’m also on Twitter?? @whoreseki (it was supposed to be hoeseki bc houseki = gem (my name) in japanese but someone took it :(( )

#uta no prince sama #utapri #eugh I don’t remember how to run a blog #should I tag all of them? #whatever #for old time’s sake #ittoki otoya #otoya ittoki #hijirikawa masato #masato hijirikawa #shinomiya natsuki #natsuki shinomiya #ichinose tokiya #tokiya ichinose #jinguuji ren #kurusu syo #syo kurusu #aijima cecil #cecil aijima #kotobuki reiji #reiji kotobuki #kurosaki ranmaru #ranmaru kurosaki #mikaze ai #camus (utapri) #oh no I can’t fit tags #starish #quartet night #heavens #dear god what IS that bio

[barlupiins]

The Lamb of God: Fyodor vs Jesus parallelism analysis

With the new anime episode that has ran ahead of the official manga release, every BSD fan's timbers have been shivered upon Dazai's feign in the face of death once again, Chuuya's year-long vampirism turning out to be also an act (go theatre kid go), Fukuchi's death, and Fyodor's supposed "death." While the manga readers have been fed these cliffhangers every month and endured them through crazy twitter threads and coping mechanisms, anime watchers received this within a week…

Anyway. Everyone is talking about Fyodor's "death" scene, and I'm certain that 90% of people are convinced he is not dead yet, amplified furthermore through his recital of Jesus's final words before his death on the cross:

“Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?”

This translates to “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”—God, why have you abandoned me?, this being said in the middle of the darkest hour of Jesus’ suffering when he had died on the cross (this will be elaborated even more later).

It's evident that with this knowledge that our favourite rat man is not dead as he harbours many parallels to Jesus Christ; the crux of the Christian religion, who ultimately on the third day, Jesus rose again and "conquered" death by spilling his blood which is necessary for salvation. Death in Catholicism is the ultimate punishment of sin. If we were to link the context of sin from Christianity to Fyodor's perception of sin, this sin that Fyodor came to believe to be found within ability users.

In this analysis, I won’t draw any theories, as I am not a theory person, but through analysis and examination of the current sources in theology, I aim to perhaps solidify our current understanding of Fyodor’s character and his motivations. I also aim with this little analysis that Fyodor's death is indicative of something much larger than we have; a transcendence of body, mind, and soul, something similar to the Holy Trinity, which is the sole pillar of the Catholic faith. To do this, we would need to further inspect Jesus’ function within the Christian religion. 

Jesus Christ: The Religious Figure

Jesus died on the cross as a consequence of sin that he had not caused, but sin that was imposed upon him due to the external world riddled by sin. In the bible’s fashion, this is again also another fulfilment of the Old Testament, via Psalm 22, here, Jesus becoming the new King David—his crown being the crown of thorns, the cross being his throne (I love religious imagery so much ugh). Jesus' crucifixion is the enthronement of Jesus Christ to the "upside down" kingdom of God.

In this way, Fyodor ‘died’ because of the success in the execution of Dazai’s plan. I don’t believe that Dazai is a parallel of Judas, as Judas was a follower of Jesus prior to his betrayal. Dazai was evidently never a follower of Fyodor—this more suiting Nikolai’s character. This however is perfect, as Nikolai was the catalyst for Fyodor’s death as he had initiated the escape game, which thus triggered Dazai to enact his plan of small things that converged into the death of Fyodor. 

Fyodor’s motivations and ideals are still very mysterious to the fandom, but we can gauge the best we can by observing the function of Jesus within Christianity. Jesus is dubbed by many titles—"The New Moses", "The Son of God", "The Son of Man", and "The King of The Jews." All of these names highlight a specific nuance in Jesus' role, and why he is so praised and worshipped upon in the Christian faith and its sub-branches. Jesus fulfils old scripture, in Christianity, the Old Testament. Jesus is a medium of God that had been delivered to earth to example the definite Word—which essentially is the ultimate desire of God and his vision of what he deems as the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth. In short, before I go on a whole tangent, Jesus’ name, Emmanuel, translates to “God among us”—therefore, is the fulfilment of God’s promise to save the world from sin that had been threaded throughout the abundance of prophecies in the Old Testament (I can elaborate on this if anyone is interested as there are a few biblical technicalities as to what God is restoring the world to [which is the Garden of Eden, but what is the Garden of Eden, if that makes sense, you know?]!). Because again, as a consequence of original sin (note: ‘sin’ is a divergence from God–the lack of ‘good’) sin became virulent. 

With this brief religious education segment of Jesus’ role as a Messiah, we can thus gain perhaps a little context on Fyodor’s ideals and his motivations. 

Fyodor Dostoevsky and Jesus Christ

Fyodor’s ideals have been established earlier in the manga that his goal is to utilise the book in order to make a world without the sin of ability users. This ideal carries far too many religious context, and aligns with the mention of New Jerusalem in his ability’s namesake novel, Crime and Punishment.  

Now, of course, Fyodor is not actually Jesus. While this conclusion may be non-sequitur, there are various justifications which make this apparent, thus eradicating some crazy theory of Fyodor being the legitimate Jesus in BSD as…he’s Fyodor. But I will lay the bones out here anyway: Fyodor didn’t die on a cross lmao, the fact he is completely dressed up in contrast to Jesus who had been stripped off his humanity via clothes (which were donned upon humans in Genesis by Adam and Eve as a consequence of sin)...this can also be indicative of the fact that Fyodor himself is riddled with sin—this sin in his eyes being the fact he is an ability user. That is out of the way now. 

However, this also raises and further supports the links that people have been grappling with in terms of Fyodor's parallels with the themes discussed in the novel Crime and Punishment (C&P). To preface: Fyodor does not completely embody Raskolnikov, nor the entire narrative of C&P, but it does retain a few features within it. I don't claim to be the most intelligent about this novel, and I am still trying to arrive at my own conclusions and understand it. That will take time. This is what I know: putting Raskolnikov’s obsession over the story of Lazarus aside, it’s revealed that Raskolnikov believes in the new Jerusalem, which is a world that has been completely and ultimately fulfilled of God’s promises—which is to eradicate the world from sin. With the book, we can conclude that Fyodor is trying to reach this “New Jerusalem” due to his ideal to create a world without the sin of ability users. 

Within this as well, we can gain some insight into Fyodor’s character and the possibility of his resurrection through Psalm 22. As aforementioned, I mentioned the link between Fyodor’s ‘final words’ and Jesus’ final word, with Jesus’ quotation of Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani? being a direct reference to the first line of Psalm 22 in the darkest hour of his suffering. Therefore, Psalm 22 is exemplifies the entire experience of Jesus’ passion during the crucifixion as he died for his people whom he bore the sins of, the most profound expression of suffering and eventual declaration of faith within that suffering and grief. 

(Psalm 22:19)

It wouldn’t be too divergent if we were to consider the possibility of Fyodor’s suffering through this lens. “My God, My God” exemplified Jesus’ relationship with God as his Son, thus making Fyodor’s recital of these lines serve as an amplification of Fyodor’s perspective and devout intimacy in his relationship with God. While I doubt Fyodor is feeling every visceral human emotion during his death—with the possibility that he is alive and made it out with a plan, this is a suffering he has experienced before, and currently—just not as saturated as he would in his ‘darkest moments’ which is in his mysterious/unrevealed past. Here, Fyodor, as Jesus had felt, is experiencing the withdrawal of God’s fellowship as well as God’s wrath towards humanity by utilising Jesus as a substitute—being impaled in the stomach, and crashing into the tower. 

This raises the inquiry of why ability users are considered as a sin. With the biblical context of sin, we can draw the conclusion that it’s the mere existence of ability users that Fyodor is referring to—this however also raises the inquiry of where do abilities come from. I have a processing meta-theory regarding the metaphysical nature of Bungou Stray Dogs, but I doubt that’s something that I can completely develop here, as it’s just a thought that I’d like to develop more by re-dabbling into the franchise once I have the time.

By examining the biblical undertones referenced through Fyodor's character, and examining said source material, we can perhaps gain some more insight into his motivations and perspective. I wouldn't say that it would reveal everything about his backstory, the true core of his ideals, but by beginning here, it's perhaps a solid first step towards understanding his character. If anyone wants an elaboration for anything I mentioned within this little analysis ramble, please let me know and I'd be happy to provide !!

#tonietalksbsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd manga #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bsd fyodor #bsd analysis #bsd

[frenxio]

𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚 - 𝗪𝗵𝗼 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂?

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐒𝐓𝐓𝐓𝐓𝐓𝐓 (it probably won't make you cry)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏.𝟑𝐊

𝐀/𝐧: 𝐆𝐨𝐝, �� 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭-

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

You knew that for generations and generations, the hanahaki disease flows strongly in your genes. Every one of your family members has had it, some died, and some lived. You were no exception, and you were next. However, you weren't expecting it to happen so soon, as now was the time you watch blood and flowers leave your throat in horror. The single moment that you were in doubt that this man you fell in love with were to never return your feelings, the flowers began to fall.

Thoma. Oh, Thoma.

He's the light of your life. He showed no malice and continued to be kind. That's the part of him that you loved most. How much he cared about animals and about other people. Seriously, he should receive more credit for working so hard.

Currently, it's spring. So you and Thoma decided to take a walk under the cherry blossoms. The petals glowed pink, and they quickly fall, just like how your hanahaki disease works. The moment doubt nibbled onto your skin, it continues to eat you up until there was nothing left. Hanahaki gets their dessert even though you never put your life at risk for this.

Suddenly, you started coughing, resulting it letting out petals and blood. Oh no, Thoma began to worry.

"Y/n! Oh dear, are you sick? Are you alright? Do you want me to fetch a doctor?" He inspected you thoroughly. Your expression, the way you awkwardly motion your hands, the way you avoided his eyes. He noticed it. "Should I carry you home? I mean, if you prefer that, then-!"

"No, I'm alright! My throat just itched, that's all."

Of course, you knew him well. An excuse like that could never convince a house husband, a man who carries for other people's wellbeing when he should be caring about his. Due to this, knowing that you were simply nothing but another friend of his made your condition even worse. You had to lock yourself up in your room, cooped up with no assistance. You avoided help at all costs. Thoma bangs on the front door to catch your attention, but you ignore his whimpers as he walks away. Itto, Ayaka, Ayato, Gorou, Sara, Heizou... all were ignored.

Continuously throwing up petals and crimson blood, suffering all alone. You know the cure. Either get yourself to be his or completely wash away all of your memories with him. You had no choice, you still had to confess. If you chose the second decision, you would have to explain to him your situation. He would feel that he was responsible for your disease and do everything he can for you to live, even if it meant to force himself to be with you.

No, you don't want that.

For the third time of the day, you heard a knock from outside of your door, making you flinch in your spot. This time, you decided to listen to the voice.

"Hey, Y/n." It's mom.

"You have it, don't you? The disease that all of us share."

Yeah, I do.

"I've heard from your friends that they couldn't contact you. They have tried to visit you numerous times before and yet you haven't responded." Your mother went quiet for a second to collect her thoughts, then breathed in preparing her speech. "Look, if you're not going to open this door, I'll have you listen to me from where you're sitting right now. I know that things are difficult, I went through it all. I suffered for a month, just like you and I was nearly about to die, but see, I found your dad. I lost my feelings for him while I converse with your dad to talk about things."

And? Your point?

"There's many more ways to lift yourself back up. If you can't get over this man...." she breathed in and out.

"...then check whether it's true that he truly doesn't love you. If not, your second choice is worth considering. Well then, I'll see you soon."

You stared at the ground, hearing the same conversation over and over, repeatedly in your head. Of course, how could you be so stupid? Your delusions that you didn't have a chance with Thoma was because your brain had just decided it never existed. Why not confirm it? You shouldn't be covering yourself in the dark like this. You have to find out.

Steadily and carefully standing up from the ground, your feet shook as you made your way to your closet and searched for some outdoor clothes. "Now that I think about it, yesterday, Thoma said that he's going to celebrate his birthday today with our friends. It should be an hour from now."

It hurts.

Your throat is burning.

"If you ever feel like looking over to this side," Thoma brushed his fingers gently, down the door. "You should come to my birthday party. It would be at six o'clock."

You pulled out your kimono, lacking any unique design. You didn't want attention to be all on you. Although it has been three weeks since you left the house, surely eyes would fall on you despite what you wear wasn't really pretty. Still, you need to hide your face. Put on a face mask and leave the house.

You wore your Japanese sandals and walked your way to Ayaka and Ayato's residence. It was a bit far, but you wanted to go anyway.

Once you arrived, you saw everybody outside, already chatting with each other until they saw you. Everything went quiet. Of course, no doubt, they would be surprised with your condition. You don't know how different you looked since three weeks ago. Probably horrible since you weren't able to sleep in days.

"Oh," Thoma quivered. "Y/n! You made it to the party!"

He stood up and rushed to wrap his arms around you. Seriously, meeting him was your medicine to your disease. It felt enough to recover from this curse.

"Ah, hi Thoma. Sorry, I forgot to bring a present." A sweat drop rolled down your cheek as you rubbed the back of your neck. It was a motion that indicated you felt uncomfortable. By the way Hezou looked at you, he didn't miss that expression your face. Though you covered half of it.

All the adults, including you, raised their glass and gulped down alcohol. Eating a feast, laughing and playing games. It had been a while since you felt this happiness filling up your emptiness, but, who's that woman beside Thoma?

"Everyone! I have an announcement to make!"

He pulled this unknown woman near him, shoulders touching with the biggest grin written across his face. Before you knew it, he kissed her on the lips. "She's now my girlfriend!"

Everybody cheered and clapped. The girl seem to be embarrassed to show her face in front of Thoma's friends, hiding behind him, but he reassured her that nothing was to scare her by holding her hand tightly. He sees her differently compared to you, the weakling.

Heizou continues to watch as you tighten your fists underneath the table, yet keeping up a stiff face. "Congratulations."

A few minutes later, you ran to the back of the house to vomit flowers and blood as tears started to roll down your face. Truly, even in the worst of times, these flowers seem to bloom properly inside your body. They look pretty once you let it all out.

You shakily sighed. "Mother, there's, there's no point."

You wiped your lips with the back of your hand and looked up at the big bright moon. It was looking down at you as if it was waiting for this moment, your decision that changes your fate.

"I hate this. Gosh, I, I hate this so, so much."

You covered your face with your palms, letting all your feelings out. "I am so sorry, Thoma. I am very sorry."

"Y/n! Oh, it has been a while since we talked! How are you feeling? Do you feel any better?" Thoma, alongside with his girlfriend, watched your unmoving back. You stood there like a statue, before turning around with a confused face.

"Who are you?"

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #romance #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #thoma x y/n #thoma x reader #lovers #fanfiction #x reader #x yn #x you #x y/n #girl what is this #fictional characters #fictional character x reader

[broadwaybalogna]

[Zutara] oneshot based on the story told in Travelin’ Soldier by the chicks

May 2, the Southern Air Temple

Katara,

Thank you for allowing me to write you during these times. We didn’t get to talk much aside from that day at the lake. Your kindness will not be taken for granted. Being able to write to someone during these times— the other men say it will keep me alive. Although we have yet to become close, I place my wholehearted trust in them.

It’s been a week since we’ve established camp. The General has been rough on all us soldiers, but it makes us stronger. At least, that’s what he says. It feels weird wrong fighting against my own element, I can’t help but think about the boys whom I grew up with, knowing they are fighting in support of the deaths they will bring to thousands if not millions.

I am aware that the other soldiers are weary of me, being from the fire nation would harbor such feelings toward me. It is my goal to prove my loyalty to them. And to you, too. Sokka speaks fondly of you, he says your smile itself would be enough to cease fighting on all sides of the war. The hour we spent at sunset on the pier brings no doubt to my mind about his words. I sense he’s still on edge about me writing to you. I will be sure to prove myself worthy of this, I swear. Sokka says to expect a letter from him in a day or two.

-Zuko

June 29, Omashu

Katara,

I sincerely thank you for writing back. I will be honest, I did not expect much in return for my letter. Sokka bragged that you wrote more to him than I, we have grown closer during this past month. He never says a bad word about you. Though perhaps he would’ve preferred to leave out the weekly yelling matches you two have. “Sibling rivalry” he says, “all in good fun”. He muttered about always buying you hot chocolate after. He never shies away from embarrassing you, however. I’ll spare you my knowledge but you should know that I find it, if anything, cute that you keep all your childhood stuffed animals close.

I cannot help but thinking more fondly of you the more I learn.

Our last few exchanges have sent warmth to my heart.

One of the soldiers here said he was an artist before being drafted. He offered to draw a portrait of you for Sokka based on his description. Sokka jumped at the opportunity of a portrait. I never knew how poetic he could be when describing a person. He would say things like your hair having waves like the sea. I simplified his words. He truly loves you beyond what I believe you know.

Not many other men have warmed up to me (pun not intended). They are all quite avoidant of me. I wish they would trust me as much as I do them. Sokka has not suffered at all being friends with me. He’ll sometimes talk me up to the other soldiers. He’s a true extrovert. His mindset is almost perfect for a soldier, our General said.

We lost our first two men not long ago just outside the Southern Air Temple. One of them I believe you may know, Hahn. He was brave until the end, and he will forever live in our memories.

Sokka keeps your portrait in his bag for safe keeping. I’ll steal a glance whenever I can. Every time I look, you’re more extravagant than the last.

Your friend,

Zuko

September 13, Natsuo Island

My dearest Katara,

The war has had few good effects on the soldiers. Sokka attempts to maintain his optimism but as fall begins and the cold winds reach us, it is hard to live up to his past. He doesn’t speak as much of you, it must be hard on his heart. Mao died to a gunshot wound not less than two days ago. I’ve spoken of him a few times in our previous exchanges. He had a daughter and wife whom he wrote as often as we do you. In his last letter, he promised to come home and raise their child with the utmost love.

Sokka cried when he died.

He says he made a similar promise to you; coming home. I wish I could’ve told him to raise his hopes.

Mao was a man who had my utmost respect. And I would say no different about Sokka. We all know the possibilities of this war.

I pray to the spirits with Sokka for opportunity and blessings each night. I never used to do that before, pray. I find it gives me peace of mind. Sokka speaks of the water tribe spirits and the legends behind them. I have learned much about Tui and La.

Every time I think solemnly, I look back to the sunset we spent at the pier. I try to remember each moment before sleeping each night. The way the wind blowed in your hair, the way your eyes glistened the colors of the sunset, your perfect smile. It brings me hope.

You bring me hope.

I don’t know what to call it. Sokka says “love” and I look away.

I fear if I call it that, I will have to face these emotions in full.

Do you find yourself wondering the same?

Best regards,

Zuko

December 20, Fire Fountain City

My dearest, Katara,

Do you ever wonder what would have come of our lives had the war never begun? Would I have found you at the café near the train? Would you have taken me to the pier overlooking the nearby lake? Would your eyes had sparkled as bright as that day?

Sokka smudged the portrait Jan made for him of you the first few weeks we set out. He silently cried to himself that night. I couldn’t hear him, but I knew he did.

Every time we face a hardship, I close my eyes and see your face looking back at me. It is hard to imagine a world without you.

It is also hard to imagine a world without war.

Sokka has a scar on his shoulder from a gunshot that grazed him. A few other scars I’ve seen are similar on his legs and arms, but his shoulder is most prominent. I know he hasn’t written to you about this because he desperately wants you to believe he is the strong older brother you look up to him to be. But I fear his mortality is fading.

I’m sure he’s told you about my own scar.

It is hard to see or hear out of my left eye and ear. Sokka says you love me no matter my appearance. I trust him. I also trust you. I’m sure our love will never come to an end. Sokka says we share the adoration of a newlywed couple. It’s impossible to believe we’ve only seen each other once. I feel like I’ve seen you each day of my life.

My heart burns to see you again, glistening in the sunset. I fantasize about seeing you again each night. I wish you perfect prosperity.

Don’t worry, but I won’t be able to write for a while.

With love,

Zuko

January 1, Crescent Island

My sister,

You do not understand the life you have given me with death surrounds my every move. You have been the light that shines at the end of the tunnel for many people in my unit. I tell stories of our adventures when I can, when it doesn’t hurt to think about, which is not often anymore.

To say that you have given hope to the people who have had the honor of knowing you is an understatement. You have given life to people who believed they had nothing to live for.

Katara, on December 25th, Zuko was caught in crossfire between our and fire nation units not far from Fire Fountain City. He was shot and killed on impact.

The war has caused the deaths of many men, but never would I believe Zuko would be one of those men.

It was foolish of me to believe there would be a world that favored love over war.

He loved you more than himself.

He couldn’t tell you this, but each time he read your letters, I would watch his face flush and a smile inch at the corner of his lips. He would speak of you with pure adoration.

He will be missed by the thousands of lives he has directly and indirectly saved through his work. He will be missed by the units that benefited from his fire during the cold. He will be missed by me.

But I know that he will be missed by you the most.

I do not know when the war will end. And I know less of when I will return to you. But I know it will happen.

Katara, this soldier will come home to you.

I promise.

-Sokka

#angst #boyfriend to death #zutara #atla katara #atla #atla zuko #katara #zuko #war #letters