#god I have problems anyway I’m doing it because I have something to prove I guess

[syrupfog]

AU where Sanji never actually left Germa, and Judge made him a test subject early on, successfully getting rid of his empathy after years of torture.

But like, he has those years of bullying from his brothers first, and his empathy’s gone but his anger’s still there. Also with no Zeff, he fights with his fists and doesn’t treat women Like That. Because Zeff’s the one who instilled in him to never hit a woman (and made it weird but that’s not the point).

He’s out on some mission in the Grand Line when he runs into the Straw Hats and he sees Zoro’s green hair and associates it with Yonji and he just haaaates him on sight.

The fight is super evenly matched and Zoro manages to knock him out eventually but he’s like what’s the guy’s DEAL. Wtf is his problem.

Maybe Law’s with them when it goes down and he recognizes that costume and fanboys…

Oh actually yeah— Law’s with them! And after Zoro knocks him out, Law goes into Creepy Surgeon Mode and is like for the love of god please let me get my fingers in that chest cavity

And everyone else (bar Robin ofc) is like Σ（ﾟдﾟlll）

But Law gets a room going and finds all sort of odd Germa technology literally implanted in him and starts pulling it out and messing with it and suddenly Sanji wakes UP and he’s— he’s scared. And overwhelmed. He’s in real time having to reckon with years of torturing people.

And Law’s like oh the emotional part of this is not in my pay grade this is not my job anymore and dips.

So Sanji’s there in the Sunny’s infirmary like “I’m a monster I need to be put down oh my god” and Luffy shows up like HEY you’re cool as hell join my crew.

Zoro is not a fan of this option and also it turns out neither is Sanji BUT sanji has nowhere to go so he makes a deal to sail with them until the next habitable island. So Zoro watches him like a hawk bc he’s like “you’re definitely faking this and are gonna turn evil and try to kill people again right”

But instead he just keeps finding Sanji being really pathetic and sad and looking longingly at the kitchen (Robin doubles as the cook and her food is damn near inedible but that’s just the life of a pirate innit)

Late one night Zoro comes off watch and he sees Sanji sneaking into the kitchen and he thinks OH he’s going to try to POISON US so he sneaks in after him and confronts him, swords and all. And Sanji, who knows what an awful person he’s been and knows he deserves death, just starts crying and is like “yeah you can kill me just let me cook one thing once I just want to remember what it feels like”

So Zoro lets him cook, and is like yeah I’m killing you after this, and Sanji spends a long time sniffling as he re-familiarizes himself with pots and pans and spices and knives and ends up making something garlic-y and delicious that smells strong enough to wake up the crew, and everyone traipses in enraptured by the smell. So Sanji serves them and Zoro tries it first because if it’s poisoned he’s not letting EVERYONE go down. But it’s not poisoned and it’s really good, and anyway Zoro can’t kill him now in front of everyone.

But three nights later the same thing happens— he sees Sanji sneaking into the kitchen and follows him and Sanji says “I know you should’ve killed me last time but you couldn’t, I get that, but I’m dangerous. So let me cook just one more time and then you can kill me.”

And it doesn’t happen of course. Everyone comes in and everyone eats and Zoro watches Sanji recover a little of himself.

And so it goes. At first every few nights and then every other night, and then every single night.

And whenever Zoro comes in, Sanji says, I know I deserve to die but let me cook just one more thing.

And at some point Zoro stops thinking about killing Sanji. He’s a part of the crew now. He’s proving himself, and anyway Zoro can beat him and hold him down and Law can reverse whatever it is again if needs be.

So it’s just a thing they do. Zoro lightly threatens him and Sanji begs for his life and they move on. It’s routine but it doesn’t actually MEAN anything anymore.

That is, until one really bad night where Sanji doesn’t show up in the kitchen like he always does, and Zoro goes looking and finally finds him deep in the steerage, and Sanji says, “I can’t keep living like this, please just kill me. I can’t keep living knowing I’m going to die the next day.”

And Zoro’s like ???? You’re not gonna die the next day wtf

And Sanji says, please, just get it over with.

Zoro realizes that Sanji has continued all this time assuming Zoro really is coming to kill him every night

But it’s been MONTHS at this point. Surely he wouldn’t still think—

But Sanji’s wracked with more than a decade’s worth of guilt, is so sure he deserves the worst the world possibly has to offer.

Too bad Zoro’s a little in love with him at this point. And says anyone who wants to kill Sanji will have to go through Zoro first.

Which Sanji DOESNT UNDERSTAND and he doesn’t understand the kiss Zoro follows it up with, but he returns it. Greedily.

Because as much as he knows he deserves death, he also relishes every moment of life, every chance to feel the emotions he wasn’t allowed. And Zoro goes from jailer to protector in his mind. Slowly. Hesitantly.

He spends years working through the trauma, decades really, but the simplicity with which Zoro sees the world helps. Zoro doesn’t blame him. Zoro loves him. Sanji doesn’t know much but he knows he’ll defend this ship that saved him with his life.

And he knows Zoro wouldn’t let Sanji defend HIM with his life, because Zoro views his life as precious and important.

Which is something Sanji is still learning.

He’ll get there.

#zosan #it’s always a toss up what fics to write vs what to just throw out into the void like this #uhhhhh I need a tag for this #would this go in the Zosan fanfic tag I dunno if that’s just for finished fic #my writing #I guess that works #anyway cross posted from twitter since I have like 3 followers lmao #and tbh it’s been a week I’m still thinking about this #(I’m thinking about writing omegaverse Zosan more tho) #(and ptsd law who’s scared of luffy) #(too little time in the world)

[moonrisecoeur]

IM BACK CUZ IM MENTALLY UNWELL OK. and yes you’re the best sub Leon writer 😏🥱 and yes I liked it, SITTING ON HIS FACE? 😍🥱

I’m so sorry for blasting ur req box but YOURE AN ACTUALLY GOOD SUB LEON WRITER SO can you blame me? concept: idk why but re4 Leon is so free use coded and so imagine he is on a mission with a new assigned partner but she’s an asshole to him (“fuck off man, I can do it myself, “I don’t need your help”, “you’re too nice and gonna be taken advantage of 😐”, etc. You get the gist) and his goofy ass just tryna be nice and helpful, cuz this is leon we are talking about. But the fun part ⁉️ they have cameras installed in the hideout they are saying at for security purposes. But ofc, Leon always tries to check on reader to make sure she’s ok - even if she’s an asshole to him. AND YK WHAT READER DOES 😭 she’s way too horny and just goes at it, girl got a masturbation problem on god. Every night. One night - wrong time and place - Leon opens his laptop to see the cameras making sure she’s ok AND HELP HE SEES HER … yk. And he feels guilty like he shouldn’t watch but he does anyways. And this goes on for weeks. Until one night he’s sick and tired of her always being so mean and he accidentally lets it slip that he’s been watching her LOL AND SHES LIKE UHM BOY WHAT 🙄⁉️ and he tries to play it off like “I didnt mean to” but like, my brother in Christ… you’ve been watching every night for weeks 🤨 wdym you didn’t mean to? ANYWAYS LONG STORY SHORT SHE PUNISHES HIM AND HEAVYYYY ON THE FREE USE THING. Love you bae 😘

i made a couple minor changes just for convenience :) fem reader she/her pronouns!

also i didn’t write the smex scene IM SORRY but i have been working on this all day and i need to get to other asks but i promise i’ll write some more free use in the future because it’s so smexy

-

"look, i know you don't like me-"

"oh? really? tell me what you think you know, kennedy," you scowl at him, and though it spooks him just a little, he tries to seem unphased.

he frowns, not hurt by your words but definitely concerned that you'll make a bad partner, "you don't need to be this hostile. we're allies. we're supposed to have each other's backs."

"right..." your voice echos, and leon knows that if it came down to it, you wouldn't protect him, wouldn't save him, would barely help him. he's practically on his own for this mission, just has an extra body with him to shoot at the bad guys.

it hurts, to some degree, because even without knowing you well, and even with you being cold and rude to him, he knows he'd come to your rescue in a heartbeat. something about him feels fond of you, even though in your entire time knowing leon kennedy, you haven't said one nice thing to him.

he thinks that maybe he likes that you've never been nice to him. he doesn't really know what to do with that thought.

-

leon is proved wrong.

despite the harshness of your words, you come to his rescue, fighting off the villager who almost decapitated him with an axe like both of your lives depend on it (because they do).

he watches you fight nervously, but when you come out on top, aside from the gash wound you take to the hip, he feels his heart skip a beat.

"this is what happens when you hurt my partner," you groan, holding your side, trying to speak through the pain even though leon can see the blood seeping between your fingers.

you whisper something in your victim's ear, something leon can't quite make out, before you kill him. leon wonders what it was briefly. he decides it doesn’t matter.

you both breathe a sigh of relief, but it's short lived as you collapse to the ground. you saved him. you got hurt saving him.

"here, let me help you," he mutters, coming over to you, not even stopping to ask if you want his help because he knows you'll say no, "stop fighting me. you're hurt and i need to patch you up."

the pain is agonizing, but even through gritted teeth and tense breaths, you push through it. he has to commend you a little bit, you're tougher than you look.

but when you try to push his hand away, claiming "i'm fine, kennedy," he sees the struggle in your face, hears the hurt in your voice. his heart seems to stop. he's worried, "i can do it myself, you don't have to- fuck, dude, i don't need your help-."

"-just relax, okay? i got you..”

you don't have the strength to push him away, but you know you shouldn't anyway, so you just slouch back against the wall and try to breathe, "fine, just fuckin... hurry up."

"i'm just trying to take care of you. we're partners, right? i gotta look out for you," he smiles, trying to lighten the mood even slightly. he wishes that this would be the time the barriers come down, that those skyscraper walls that prevented him from coming any closer to you emotionally could come crashing down, if only for a moment.

"you don't have to do anything. you're choosing to put yourself in danger to help me," you groan as you lean back, looking up at the ceiling, "suprised that no one's tried to take advantage of your willingness to help before."

"someone did," he mutters annoyedly, focusing more on the wound then it being your wound, on your body. his eyebrows, almost naturally furrowed from years of stress, somehow make his face even more sad to gaze upon. it's not that he's unattractive, far from it, but he's... worn. tired. a piece of your heart, no matter how far you keep away from him, aches in sympathy.

-

leon carries you back to the safe room, a hideout you both are using to rest and recover in while you plot your next move. he lays his jacket on the ground to at least give you something comfortable to lie on. you don't look comfortable, but he can't do anything else to help you.

he looks through his things, trying to concoct something that will at least make you feel a little bit better. he finds a first aid spray, and his heart jumps out of his chest in excitement. he uses it to take care of your wound, and waits for you to wake up from your unconscious state.

he decides to go back out, hoping to maybe find some other things to help you both on your mission. he knows you'll berate him for leaving on his own, risking his own life needlessly. but god if he didn't imagine what it would be like if he found something you could really use, and watch your eyes light up. even if you didn't like him, you'd be happy. he wants to see you smile, to praise him for a job well done.

he cringes at how pathetic it sounds, but he sets off either way, leaving you wrapped in his jacket with a note from him saying what he's doing.

-

he doesn't do it intentionally. at least... not the first time. genuinely, he just wanted to check up on you, make sure you were alive and breathing and safe. and you definitely were.

he doesn't know why its so hypnotizing, why he can't put his goddamn phone away with the stupid security app on it. of course it's you, though. you're hypnotizing.

he watches every pixel, every distorted view of you touching yourself in the safe room, obviously unaware that he could... see this. he's glad there's no audio, or else he'd be unable to control himself, even in an abandoned building surrounded by zombies. maybe its the years that haven hardened him, burned the fear out of his soul and numbed him to the presence of those things, but he doesn't feel anything but uncontrollable desire right now.

have you been doing it the whole time? you both had spilt off from each other multiple times, and he would almost be upset at the idea that every time he was fighting for his life and barely, barely winning that fight each time, you were getting off a couple hundred feet from him in another room... if it wasn't so fucking hot to watch you masturbate.

he keeps watching until he notices that you're having an orgasm, body twitching and your chest heaving up and down as you take deep breathes. it's so fucking sexy, leon probably could have cum on the spot if he watched anymore.

-

you keep doing it. he keeps watching it. over the course of the mission (of course he had to be stuck on a long, secluded recon mission with you of all people) he's watched you too many times. he doesn't think he has enough fingers to count how many times, which either means he's been on this mission longer than he thought or you have a fucking addiction. he's almost kind of impressed at how efficient you are. takes you 10 minutes tops, and then you just get back up and keep on trucking? his sentimental, post-nut ass could never.

and, though you recovered from your wound, you haven't displayed any sense of gratitude for leon taking care of you when you passed out after getting hurt. not that he expects it, truthfully. you saved his life, he saved yours. you were even.

he just doesn't feel like he's broken any new ground. he feels like, if anything, you feel even further away, emotionally. he's about had it.

"hey, we need to talk," he says, ominously; he doesn't intend it to be so, "i understand you don't like me. it's fine. i don't even care anymore. but i am tired of you talking to me like i'm a pushover."

you look over at him, reloading your gun with a displeased look on your face. leon hates the inner urge he has to cave and apologize to you, as if his body would rather give up any sense of dignity he still has in favor of being slightly more tolerable to you.

"well? are you going to say something?"

you scoff, looking away, "didn't know you were so fucking sensitive, kennedy," and you turn around, ready to walk out, before he snaps, "this isn't a pleasure trip. sorry you're not having a good time."

"clearly you're having a good time with all the pleasure you're giving yourself while i'm trying not to die."

he stops. panicking. trying to think of how to spin the words he just said and make it not sound like he knew every tell you had when you were about to cum or exactly how you touch yourself in order to get yourself off quickly.

you stop as well. and you look back at him with this expression on your face that is completely unreadable.

maybe it wasn't the best move to reveal the only card he had left to play if it mean he would get this reaction out of you considering that, again, you so clearly do not like him.

... right?

"what... did you say, kennedy?" you ask, pure venom in your voice. it's not a question, you so clearly heard him correctly.

"i- i'm sorry, i didn't mean to say that-"

"have you been watching me?" you take a step closer, eyes boring into his soul so intensely he can't make eye contact. he has no way out of this situation. he feels out of breath, nervous, god why are you getting so close to him? "answer me, leon," not kennedy, leon, "have you been watching me masturbate?"

he looks up, trying to keep himself from making eye contact. he knows the second he looks into your eyes, he will be putty in your hands, free for you to mold into whatever you'd like. he knows you're not looking at him with distain like usual, it's something else.

something hungry.

"yeah," he breathes, barely getting the world out at all. you take a deep breath, as if you're debating what you're going to do.

"what you did was wrong, you see that, right?"

"yes, i know, but-"

you scoff, annoyed. god why in this moment, just inches away from you, you notice the moles on his neck, the angle of his jaw, the entrancing aura of his eyes. it's so damn distracting, and you have to pull yourself together, "but nothing. you watched me without my consent, you got off on it, didn't you?"

"god, you're making it sound so bad, i... i'm sorry, okay? how can i make it up to you?" he asks, trying so damn hard as always to please.

this is where you come to realize that maybe you didn't hate leon kennedy all this time. maybe you found yourself too comfortable, too at ease in his presence. maybe he was safe and sweet and gentle and it didn't sit right because nothing in a world with zombies and bioweapons and cults and parasites was gentle. but leon is.

you look down, considering your options, "i have an idea. you're free to refuse and we go back to before, and you get nothing from me. do you want to hear it?"

"sure?"

you take a breath, going for it, "i’ll be… blunt. if you couldn’t tell, i’m a bit.. insatiable. i need something to get myself off now that i’m getting bored of my own hands out here. you help me, and i’ll forgive you for watching me.”

his thoughts stop. he genuinely can’t put together a coherent thought, what did you mean? "are you.. are you fucking serious? you barely speak to me, every time you do speak to me you act like i'm the scum of the earth, you act like i'm not here when i saved your ass and carried you and patched you up, i-”

you cut him off with a kiss. it’s not gentle, it’s rough and messy and your fingers dig into the skin of his cheeks, leaving him red and breathless. he finally gets it. you don’t want him to help you, you want to use him.

he lets you push him down, pin his body to the wall as you kiss him breathless. he lets you dig your nails into his neck even if it hurts. he lets you touch and kiss him as rough or as gentle as you like. and you don’t like being gentle, clearly.

“use me,” he whispers between kisses, and when you pull away, eyeing him intently, as if urging him to explain himself, he does, “do whatever you want. just keep going until you’re satisfied. don’t… don’t hold back. whatever pleases you… i want that. i want to please you.”

“awh, you just want me to be happy with you, don’t you?” you coo at him, endeared by his selflessness. truly a good man in a bad world, “that’s all you’ve ever wanted, hm? for me to like you?”

his resolve cracks just a little bit more, “uhm, yeah…” he his voice is shaky, unsteady, and he just needs to give in.

“then you’re going to let me do this every single time in horny and need something to get myself off. i’m going to do whatever i want to you, and i’m not going to ask. you’re just going to let me. if you don’t, then we go right back to being enemies, and you really don’t want that, right?”

he stutters aimlessly, his knees going weak. he’d truly be done for if you weren’t hold him up with a strength he did not know you had.

and you just keep going, “i’m not going to ask or care if it’s a bad time. i want it to be inconvenient, uncomfortable, ill-timed. i want it to be permanently in your head that i can have you whenever i want you. that i can do whatever i want to you.”

“only i get to have you, got it?”

“g-got it,” he mutters weakly, feeling your hands on him, touching him in places he hasn’t been touched in a while. he didn’t realize how desperate he was.

“only i get to touch you, only i… get to fuck you.”

he nods helplessly.

“it’s too bad i didn’t bring a dildo in my bag when we set off for this mission, because i would so fuck you with it until you’re seeing stars and apologizing for going behind my back… but i suppose i’ll just have to satisfy myself with your cock…”

#sub leon kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s. kennedy #leon kennedy smut #sub leon kennedy smut #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil smut #reader insert #smut #sub!leon #re2r leon #re2 smut #re2 #re2r #re4 #re4 leon #re4 remake #re4 smut #resident evil 4

[jaebeomsbitch]

Victorian Wh*re (R.R)

Summary: Roman suggests maybe you can watch each other touch yourselves. Fem reader!

WARNINGS: SMUT MINORS DNI, mutual masturbation, swearing,

A/N: We're bringing back the dildo thing in the next fic! God I just know it would drive him crazy but also he'd feel so insanely bad about himself after. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

“You diddle yourself, I diddle myself come on it’ll be a fuckin’ disgusting fuck fest” Roman says. He’s always the one to initiate any intimate moments between you two because you knew how uncomfortable he was with it all. It’s like his body wants it, craves it but his mind immediately snaps him out of it when things get too far. You hadn’t gotten past phone sex which was even surprising to you. You didn’t know much about Roman’s sexual issues because he isn’t the most emotionally available person.

“Can you even…” you don’t finish the sentence. Your mind immediately travels to the image. The way his mouth hangs open, his hips twitching, that vein on his forehead popping out as he pants for breath. You can always admit that your…boyfriend? Whatever he was, was attractive. And although he has a vulgar personality you can’t help but look at the way his lips move or the way he perfectly quirks his mouth into a smirk. Meeting Roman made you realize you probably had odontophilia, your eyes always trained on his mouth. Something that Roman has picked up on but he’s yet to use as ammunition. Something about the way he has sharp canine teeth turns you on. Maybe it’s some sort of primal urge in you, like in caveman days he’d probably be really good at eating raw meat. 

“Oh fuck off! Yes I can jerk off, I jerk off so much I’m surprised I still have skin,” he says. You can’t help but laugh at his admission. 

“God you sound like a teenage boy,” you shake your head. His hazel eyes narrow at your little chuckle. 

“You want me to prove it to you?” He asks, eyebrow quirked, lips pressed into a slight grin. You look at him for a second.

“Oh you’re serious. Can- can you even get it up?” The words leave your mouth before you can think. As much as you always love your back and forth with Roman you never liked poking fun at his sexual trauma.

“Well…just— just try it with me and you’ll see,” he says, that grin a little wider but his eyes hold a certain vulnerability. 

You sigh, closing your eyes for a second as you press your head into the pillow. Are you really gonna do this? It’d be better than that time he tried to have sex with you and ended up dry humping your thigh for two seconds before just giving up and turning away. He didn’t let you comfort him either which only made it worse. 

A part of you was scared of crossing this line with Roman, you didn’t want to scare him off and create only more bad sexual experiences for him. But, you did feel pent up, would you mind if he just watched you if he couldn’t touch himself? 

“Ugh, fine,” you finally say, deciding to get out of your head. If he felt comfortable enough to do this with you then you’d let him. You didn’t want to deny him that part of himself, especially when you know how much he struggles with intimacy. 

“Throw me some pillows,” you say. Making a pile of them at the foot of the bed. You situate yourself so you’re half sitting half lying down. You have a clear view of him as you lay diagonal from him. He sits leaning against the headboard, you can see the way he gulps down his saliva. Was he expecting you to deny him?

“We can do this another time,” you say, giving him an out to say no. 

“What are you scared?” He taunts but his voice sounds a little broken. 

“I’m serious Rome, if you’re not ready you’re not ready,” you say, actually addressing the problem. 

“Oh fuck off, you got a fuck up vag or something? Oh god it’s fucked up isn’t it? Like a fucking acid explosion down there?” He says. 

You laugh, “on the contrary, all my partners have said I have a ‘pretty pussy’” you say laughing. It wasn’t true but you weren’t ashamed of your vulva, why should you be? Everyone’s look different. 

“Well I’ve gotten quite a few people thirsting over my cock. Said they wanted to make a mold of it or something. Oh those sick fucks probably would make a dildo and fuck themself with it,” he says. 

“Wait, why is that kind of a good idea?” You say. 

“What?” His attention snaps back to you. 

“Well if you can’t fuck me, then give me a replica of your cock. Then I’d at least know what it feels like,” you grin up at him. He’d probably love it, seeing you moan at the feeling of his rubber cock in you. 

“See, I knew you wanted to fuck me,” he says.

“Did I ever deny it?” You bite back. He looks at you for a second almost shocked before he snaps out of it. 

“Well it’ll happen one day,” he says a little sadly. 

“Hmm, one day,” you nod. 

“Okay it’s time to jerk off~” He sing songs, clapping his hands. 

“You want me to touch myself dry? You gotta give me some material to work with,” you grumble. 

“I mean just look at me,” he flexes his muscles. 

“Okay well you’re fully clothed and I don’t think you’re necessarily up for removing them,” you say. 

“You need me to expose an ankle or something. ‘Ooh I’m a baaad Victorian girl’” he says in a faux sexy voice, putting a finger on his lip and pretending to act coy, his leg stretched out dramatically to show off his right ankle.

“Oh yeah, that ankle has got me turned on beyond belief,” You laugh.

“No seriously, I’m gonna need to watch a video or something. I’m not exactly revved up right now,” you ignore the way he wiggles his ankle at you. 

“Okay fucking Toyota calm down,” he says. 

“Well-- maybe you start? It’ll give me some inspiration… hopefully,” you smirk. 

“Not a problem, I’m so fuckin’ hard right now. Ugh your ankle and knees are out? You whore,” his eyes run over the expanse of your legs. You can’t help but flex your feet in response. 

“Oh you’re hard at that? Well I can do so much better. Shit, I think if I flashed you, you’d fuckin cum in your pants,” you laugh.

“That’s a challenge I’m willing to bet on. I’d like to see you try,” he says, eyes half lidded. His hand sliding towards the bulge in his sleep pants. 

“Yeah?” You breathe. Oh this was getting real. He silently nods, the palm of his hand rubbing at the fabric. He tips his head back to lean against the headboard, his eyes trained on your body. They flicker towards different parts quickly like he’s unsure where to look. 

“Just fuck— take ‘em out,” he groans, his voice a little too desperate for his liking. 

“You’re a sick fucking pervert,” you say but the demand certainly sounds intriguing. He’s touching himself as you’re fully clothed, how would he react if he saw something… new? He shudders at your words but you don’t seem to realize it. Maybe it’s just because he hasn’t jerked off in a long time or something. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m a sick fuck,” he replies, trying to make it sound like a joke but there’s something there. A new tone you don’t recognize. It’s like you start to see Roman in a different light. Maybe you didn’t see him as a sexual person before but you’re definitely seeing it now, as his hips slowly tip to meet the palm of his hand. Shit why was this kind of hot? You’re definitely wet now, as you look at him, small whines in the back of his throat threatening to spill out. He keeps his mouth shut, embarrassed that he’s already worked up.

If he wants a show you’ll give him a fucking show, you bunch up your baggy sleep shirt. Your nipples perking at the cold air.

“Ooh fuck,” he moans, eyes trained on your chest. You decide to give him a show. If this was your only time doing this you had to make it memorable. Your hands slide up your ribs to cup your breasts, your thumb brushing over the taunt nipples.

“Ooh,” your breath hitches at the sensation, watching as his hand moves faster against his cock. 

“Put it in,” you moan, eyes trained on his hand. 

“What?” He chokes.

“Put your hand in there, you can’t just rub it all day. Touch yourself for real,” you say, eyes flicking up towards his. You notice the way his canines dig into his bottom lip. Fuck… your hand absentmindedly slides into your sleep shorts, your finger slowly circling your clit as you see him put his hand in his pajama pants. The fabric straining against his moving hand. 

Maybe it’s time to try out your new theory. “Fuck, you’re disgusting Roman. Look at you” you groan, finger pressing into yourself. His eyes flick towards yours, he can tell he’s turning you on. You wish you could mean it though, the words come out all breathy as you slide your middle finger in and out. You wish you could say any of your next words with conviction but your breath hitches when you see his mouth hung agape, his eyes closing for a second before looking at you hungrily. His gaze trained on the movement of your shorts. 

Fuck! There wasn’t enough space in them to reach your sweet spot so you quickly slide the fabric down your legs. You bend your knees to give him the perfect view of your finger sliding in and out in your cunt. 

“Oh fuck” He moans, eyes almost staring holes through your flesh. 

“God, you’d fucking love to watch me fuck myself with a dildo of your cock wouldn’t you? It the only way you’d ever fuck me. You’re a fucking sicko,” You whine the last part, your fingers relentlessly hitting the squishy part inside of you. Your other hand slithers around until it finds your clit, your fingers move quickly as you see Roman is close. 

He’s practically fucking his hand, his mouth hung open, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Ooh Fuck, yeah. I’d fuckin’ love it. W-want to see your face stretch around my… F-f-fuck!” He moans. 

His head slamming backwards into the headboard with a loud thud but he’s too caught up in this. Jerking off was something but this? This was so much different. The air crackles with your attraction for one another. You’d felt attracted to Roman in your weak moments sure but now, now you felt like you just opened a can of worms. Like crossing this line is going to make you crave more of him. 

“You’re close aren’t you? One look at me touching myself and you’re cumming in your pants like a fucking virgin,” You taunt, but your words have no real bite. It doesn't matter how harshly you say it, you want this. Want to see him ruin his expensive sleep pants, watch the way his eyes roll back and how his teeth will rip his lip open. 

“F-fuck M’close,” He slurs, his eyes half-closed but he keeps them open. He wants to keep this memory burned into his brain. He never wants to forget the sounds you make and the way your legs slightly shake as you circle your clit. 

“Shiiit me too. Let me see you cum,” You say, your voice higher pitched than normal as you try and stave off your release. Your eyes flutter, threatening to close shut but you force them open. You weren’t losing this experience. It’s almost like the aurora borealis but much more rare and a lot prettier. 

“Oh f-Uck,” He whines, his hips bucking wildly against his hand. Until you see them stutter, his canines digging into his bottom lip to try and keep himself quiet, his chest heaves, stomach twitching violently at the feeling of this new release. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” He groans, his cock twitching in his hand as the spurts of cum paint the inside of his boxers. The sticky mess seeping into the fabric of his pajama pants. He finally lets his cock go, taking his hand out from the waistband. You can see the glistening of his cum coating his hand as you work yourself faster. 

“Shi-it,” you shiver, the heat in your stomach building and building. It feels like you’re an old house caught on fire, your whole body sweating, your legs starting to tremble as you maintain eye contact with Roman. 

“Let me taste it,” You grunt, in between moans. 

“W-what?” Roman says confused. His mind is still on cloud nine as he licks away the drops of blood on his lip. 

“Roman I swear to fucking God I will fucking–” You can’t think of a decent insult, your mind turning to mush as you watch him carefully but enthusiastically crawl over to you. He smears his cum on your lips, his fingers prodding at the seam of your mouth until you relent. You eagerly lick at his hand, the fire builds more, the foundation of the house collapsing as you swirl your tongue around his fingers. 

“Ooh,” He shivers, his voice lower than normal as he moves his fingers in and out of your mouth. The cadence in his voice pushes you over the edge. Your entire body tenses up for a second before everything releases. You moan around his fingers, accidentally biting down on the flesh as your eyes roll backward. Roman watches you, you almost look possessed as you whine around his fingers, your body going completely limp. 

“C-can I?” You hear Roman ask but you aren’t really listening, not that you’d expect it anyway. Roman was one to take and never to ask. You languidly nod your head, the heat of Roman’s thighs pressing into the side of your leg is the only thing keeping you grounded.

That is until you feel him remove his hand from your mouth. His saliva coated fingers wrapping around your wrist as he uses your sticky fingers to dip into your cunt like a dunkaroo and scoop your cum, your eyes widen at the intrusion and boldness of it all. He brings your fingers to his mouth, the sharpness of his canines brushing the pads of your fingers as he cleans your fingers off.

“Oh f-fuck, Rome,” You moan, your eyes barely open watching him commit this obscene act. He knew about your weakness, he noticed the way you stared at him with that far away look when he bit into his thumb. 

Your thighs still twitch in the aftershocks of your intense moment. Your fingers are long clean but the tips of his teeth press into your fingers before he lets your wrist fall. He retreats back to his corner of the bed. You lower your shirt back down over your chest and slide on your underwear leaving your shorts lost somewhere in the sheets. You sigh as you lean your head back into the mound of pillows. 

“So was it as hideous as you thought? Worse than a mangled up ball of rotting flesh?” You joke with a twinkle in your eyes as you look at him.

“Oh definitely fucking worse, I had to stop myself from gagging it was so disgusting,” He says, a small smile on his lips and something different in his eyes. You can’t pinpoint it but something has changed. 

“You know, your ankle had me a lot more aroused than I was expecting,” You laugh. 

“Yeah? I got better ankles than a fucking marathon runner. I could put those victorian whores to shame… really fuck up their business,” He says sinking into the sheets. 

“Oh yeah? How much would you charge?” You ask, staring up at the ceiling. What the fuck was your life?

“I don’t know, like five grand at the minimum. I only want the rich fucks looking at my ankles especially if I’m gonna have to look at old men jerk off” He says, dramatically shuddering in disgust. 

“...I’ve got five grand, when's your next available appointment?” You ask looking back at him. His eyes meet yours. 

“Yeah?” He asks, seeming to speak without actually speaking about it, a big grin on his face. 

“I’m good for the money,” You say, a small smile on your lips. You both lay there in silence, what you just did hanging in the air. Roman somehow feels lighter. Sure he’d still have difficult days, days where he can’t stand to look down at his body or days when you hold him while you sleep and he silently cries but he had this. He was capable of some sort of intimate relationship even if it was unconventional. 

You grab a pillow and crawl over to your side of the bed and lie down. 

“Roman?” You whisper, a little afraid of pissing him off especially after all this. 

“Hmm? Need another look at my ankles, this one’s gonna cost you double,” He says, lazily turning his head to look at you. 

“Only if you throw in a free elbow,” You smile, cuddling into your pillow. 

“That can be arranged, which one though?” He asks, placing his hands underneath his head as he mimics your position. 

Your eyes flick to his already exposed elbows, “Right, definitely the right.”

“Sure, I’ll throw it in only because you’ve been a loyal customer,” He says, hazel eyes searching through yours.

“I’ll continue to be loyal,” You try to reassure him. He doesn’t say anything, no smart quip, just an ever so slight nod as he closes his eyes. You can't help but stare at his face, at the slight stubble, the freckles painted onto the bridge of his nose.

“Stop staring or I’m gonna have to charge you by the second,” He says, his eyes still closed. 

“That’s okay, my boyfriend is a billionaire,” You whisper, scooting closer to him. 

“Boyfriend?” He whispers like the word is foreign. Your fingertips brush his hair out of his face. Everything was okay, you were both okay. He was your Victorian whore and you were all too willing to pay his hefty price. 

#roman roy #succession #succession roman #succession hbo #roman roy x reader #roman roy imagine #succession spoilers #roman roy / reader #roman roy smut #roman roy x female reader #roman roy fic #no dynamics #romulus roy #smut #slight fluff

[batrogers]

Linked Universe Time with PTSD

My friends have gotten the brunt of me going on these rambles at them directly, so I decided I’d make this everyone else’s problem as well. Especially after the recent update and the somewhat... questionable words exchanged between him and Twilight, I figured this could be a salve for people like me and a few friends going “What the fuck” about how out of the blue it feels.

A comment on my approach to canon: I am aware there are things shared in the Discord that are creator content, and on the Patreon to which not everyone has equal access or can even manage to relocate again with any ease. As such, like I do with most fandoms, I will be discounting those as “extra-canon” only referenced to augment the “core materials” which I am treating as the Tumblr account archive, because that is available to everyone, without an account and without paying.

I am, of course, including all base canon of the games in this analysis as well, which is to say all the canon directly included in the games and not including the Ocarina of Time or Twilight Princess comics. Interviews and so on are considered "extra-canon" here as well.

(Also I am in the Patreon and at the moment none of the “bonus” content is relevant to this anyways, for the curious. I am not, and have never been, in the Discord.)

Approx 1500 words.

IIII

I’m going to start from the comment everyone is making about this update: that Malon must be pregnant. Obviously nothing can prove or disprove that in and of itself, but I would argue that’s both not a necessary read of this and the mere question is actually part of my analysis: Link and Malon are, by word of god and how they’re drawn, in their thirties. They’ve been a couple since they were late teens to early twenties, and they very clearly want to have children from how they react to Twilight!

So why don’t they?

Infertility is suspected after two years of a (presumably) reproductive capable couple having unprotected sex without a pregnancy. If Time and Malon have been trying for ten to twenty years to have children (assuming their relationship started between 15-20, and currently are 30-35), they are incredibly infertile. It’s not out of the question, and a wild stroke of luck could still occur (my own cousin conceived unexpectedly after ten years of trying) but it does serve to investigate other reasons: maybe they had some reason they weren’t trying, either on purpose or because something was keeping them apart.

Something, perhaps, like a war.

The base game of Ocarina of Time does not leave Hyrule in a good state. We are told, in-game, that Hyrule was in a civil war when Link was a baby. His mother died getting him into the Lost Woods, where he was raised as an orphan. The Shadow Temple explicitly states it was used to imprison (and, strongly implied, torture) the enemies of the Hylian royal family. Ocarina of Time is the only game to use its unique script for Hylian, which suggests it wasn’t the original language and did not last into Twilight Princess later on.

Lon Lon Ranch itself is both very protected by location (very close to the Castle, close enough it supplies it with food and other supplies) and by a twelve foot log palisade. The castle grounds themselves have two guarded gates between it and Castletown (do they not trust their own populace?) and a vast number of guards on the hills around it. Kakariko also has guarded, gated entrances.

(This all has a game mechanics explanation, of course. Closing off each section with “gates” and high walls permits loading screens to feel justified and more immersive, and saves game data and space. It creates clearly defined, restricted areas for the console capabilities at the time. But they can still be interpreted this way, because that is ultimately still the world they built in the end.)

In addition to that base of implied precarious stability at home, we have the question of how the matter of Ganondorf was resolved. Time very briefly references pointing the finger at him and causing something to happen, but ultimately there is no result that would not have made the situation politically volatile for some time after. Even if they executed Ganondorf immediately, the bad blood between Hyrule and the Gerudo would’ve festered under Koume and Kotake as potential leaders. If they didn’t, and simply threw him out or banished him, the same would apply this time with Ganondorf still alive... and, if we assume that the Twilight Princess Ganondorf and this one are the same, he looks much older in-model than he does in Ocarian of Time which suggests this interpretation holds more weight.

It’s not really a question of “if” things devolved again after these events, but when and how badly. Remember, again, my comment that the script of Ocarina of Time is gone by the time of Twilight Princess. In addition, I've done an analysis of Twilight Princess game implications that do not imply Child Timeline has been peaceful, either.

But, of course, the question of what the games themselves leave us with doesn’t answer if Jojo went with this position within the canon of the comics. There is of course the potential to disregard this if someone doesn’t want to go the route of war post-game for Ocarina of Time. Many people just don’t want to write it, and that’s valid! I honestly don’t think Jojo really considered it.

But, there is evidence that could support it if you wanted to go there.

First of all, we have Time’s platemail. This is based off of the Hero’s Shade platemail in Twilight Princess. Disregarding all other factors, platemail directly implies a few things about Time’s social position at the start of Linked Universe: he has enough money, influence, and reason to have suffered the cost and length of time required to make what is extremely high-level, personalized (in size and design) armour. This means several things:

Time has social status. That armour is meant to be seen and noticed; it’s something that either was made for show (a “jewel of the crown” level of regard), or because he wanted people to notice it personally. He has money, or political favour: that shit’s expensive. He either paid for it himself, or someone paid for it for him. And he has cause to want the level of defense offered by platemail over chainmail or hardened leather. Platemail is uncomfortable. It's heavy, and reduces agility. You wear plate because you expect to get hit, and hit hard by something that could surpass chainmail or hardened leather. Something like a moblin... or an iron knuckle.

Malon directly references this in their visit to see her: “You’re in danger if you took your best gear.”

Time chose to wear his platemail to go after Dink, but this is armour he already owns before Dink ever entered the picture. In that same chapter, Malon directly states “all the times you’ve come home beaten and bleeding.” While they also joke that Talon doesn’t believe him, remember that Lon Lon Ranch is in a very protected place within Hyrule. A war that takes out the castle and central city is a war that’s very nearly lost. (Hyrule Warriors losing Zelda AND the castle was a devastating, near-lose condition and his Hyrule is probably in severe condition.) Talon can afford to consider the affairs Time gets up to none of his business.

But that doesn’t make them perfectly safe. Malon can fight, she’s been drawn with bow and arrow before. Lon Lon Ranch, as noted, is behind a tall palisade and there’s the implications that Talon’s deceased wife might’ve been a Gerudo. He’s also old enough that he was a young adult at least during the Civil War that killed Link’s mother.

And, somewhere between that picture of Time at sixteen or seventeen, when Malon promised she wanted to know what had happened to him, and the start of Linked Universe (a gap that directly implies that this was not the result of Majora’s Mask!) Link lost an eye and gained the markings of the Fierce Deity mask. And, with it, he gained what we’re told by Jojo (in a VERY old ask) is a terror of using it again.

I’m not going to presume to say what exactly his trauma might or might not look like. PTSD and similar things manifest differently for a lot of people. But it could make Time react badly to the visceral reminder of going back into serious combat. A reminder like, say, a long wait for someone to recover from a nearly-fatal injury. Add in that on long campaigns, letters from Malon may have been his only piece of home, letters that likely carry her terror for his safety with them nevermind the specific news they contain and...

He might not be in a good state of mind when setting out once more with one of the young men he’s pulled into this fight with him. He might struggle to think clearly, when he feels so responsible for their safety and remembers how Malon reacted to Twilight, all because of what he told her.

He might say things in a poor way, with fear weighing more heavily on his mind than reason.

#Linked Universe #LInked Universe Meta #LU Time Meta #long post #my writing #heavily influences my read on him in fanfic #LU Time #cw infertility #cw war #Like I'm not for or against pregnant Malon #I just have a knee-jerk reaction to it as a default expectation #And have been considering posting this for a while

[tgmsunmontue]

Life is too short to waste time matching socks... (1/?) WIP I

Hangster and Bob/Javy/Nat - set post mission with the Dagger Squad having been made a permanent squad.

                Bradley opens his locker and startles a little as something falls onto his head from where it was obviously balanced just on the door of his locker. Two pairs of socks, still in the cardboard sleeve, one with peach emojis and the other with eggplants. His first reaction is to roll his eyes, because it’s a little juvenile, butt and dick emoji socks. He knows none of the Dagger Squadron have a problem with him being gay. It would be a little hypocritical for some of them, considering at least half of them identify somewhere in the rainbow community, and they’ve had drunken rambling talks about it, about always having to strive to prove themselves and maybe that’s why they’ve all succeeded to become as good as they are.

                “Uh… are these a joke?”

                No-one says anything and he shrugs, puts the socks into his bag for home.

…            …            …

                “You’re not subtle. Well, actually, maybe you are, because he’s not figured it out yet.”

                “Maybe he’s figured it out and is just not interested in me like that so is just… pretending to not know so he doesn’t hurt my feelings.”

                Javy and Nat both snort.

                “What?”

                “Okay, for a start, when has he ever tried to spare your feelings?”

                “We’re friends now. Sort of.”

                “Yeah. Sort of. Because he wants to dick you down.”

                “Classy Trace, real classy.”

                “I’m sorry, since when have you ever cared about class? You’ve got a hardon for a guy that wears Hawaiian shirts by choice.”

…            …            …

                “Someone gave you socks and you think they’re… playing a prank? Normally the socks are covered in itching powder, or shoes with shaving foam, buckets of water above the door, laces tied together…”

                “It’s what’s on the socks. Here. Look.”

                Mav stares at them. Looks up to Bradley.

                “Farm produce?”

                Bradley winces, he really doesn’t want to have to explain the double meaning of the emojis to a man nearing sixty.

                “God your face. I’m old, I’m not dead. I know what those mean.”

                “So, do you think someone’s making fun of me?”

                “For what?”

                “Uh. Being gay? Having a, um, actually, never mind…”

                “You a bit of a shower huh?”

                “Jesus Mav…” Bradley mutters as Mav just laughs.

                “Clearly nothing to be ashamed of. Maybe someone’s paying you a compliment. Or they have a weird way of flirting? I don’t know what you kids do these days.”

                “I think we’re too old to be classified as the kids of today, considering some of my friends have kids who they’re already struggling to understand.”

                “Everyone’s a kid to me.”

                “Yeah well, you are ancient.”

                “Hey! You’re meant to respect your elders!”

                It’s Bradley’s turn to laugh and it’s good, their relationship slowly healing. Of course, Penny sitting them both down and acting as mediator; forcing Mav to tell him that it had been his mom’s wish… He no longer has moments of fleeting anger and resentment, realizing that life is too short to hold this grudge when he’d worked around it anyway, that it hadn’t actually seriously impacted his career progression, that it had simply been the lying and lack of support which had felt like the deepest of betrayals.

                When he gets back to his accommodation he picks up the socks holds them in his hands, they’re good quality, brand new and unused and while it was clearly three pairs he’s only been given the two and he wonders if the other person has kept a pair for themselves. He’s desperate to know, a building mystery. He knows it has to be a fellow aviator, because they were delivered to his locker. So definitely an aviator. Or someone close enough to ask one of them to do it for them.

                He can figure this out.

…            …            …

                “Is this getting even more painful or is it just me?”

                “If I didn’t know better I’d think they were secretly together and winding us up, but Jake can’t act to save himself, so… he’s actually gone on him.”

                “They have a very weird way of showing each other that they like each other…”

                “Well… Rooster grew up with Mav as his role model. Were we expecting him to be normal?”

                “You raise a valid point.”

                “And Jake… well. His parents are so much older than him, his older brother pretty much raised him and he isn’t exactly the most, uh, demonstrative of guys?”

                “Is that a diplomatic way of saying he’s a bag of dicks?”

                “Don’t you like dicks?”

                “I like dicks when they’re attached to guys I like, I would make a hard pass on a bag of lose dicks just jiggling around like that…”

                Javy and Bob exchange slightly horrified looks.

                “Hey, what are you guys talking about?”

                “Bags of detached dicks…” Bob says, pushing his glasses up his nose and somehow maintaining a completely straight face.

                “I’m... I’m sorry I asked. I’ll leave you to it,” Rueben says, doing a sharp one-eighty and heading back out the way he came in.

                The three of them burst into laughter and it’s a nice break from their moan and groan session discussing the problem of Hangman and Rooster and their combined obliviousness. How they’re both so intelligent but so equally clueless makes the three of them despair.

                “Okay. I’m going to invite them both to dinner and then stand them up, so they have to have dinner together.”

                “Yeah, they could just get up and leave…”

                “No, they won’t, I’ll make sure of it,” Natasha states and the other two decide not to argue any further.

                “I’m going to suggest we do an escape room, and then need to take an emergency call… one of you are going to need to be my emergency call,” Bob says, looking between them, flushing a little as Javy simply looks at him and smiles.

                “I’m going for tried and true. I’m going to lock them in a room and then text them both and then let them sort it out.”

                “Looking them in a cupboard, real mature.”

                “As mature as them. The solution needs to match the problem. He gave him socks with butt and dick emojis.”

                “Yeah okay, you raise a fair point…”

                “Anyway, if the dinner and escape room ideas don’t work then I think we'll all be ready to lock them up. Or bang their heads together.”

…            …            …

PART TWO

#Hangster #Sereshaw #Life is too short to waste time matching socks... #Top Gun fanfiction #BobNixJavy

[the-owl-tree]

I’m gonna try and make my point again but on anon bc worried of harassment if Certain People don’t agree.

the christofascist themes in warriors I’ve only been able to notice because they align pretty well with patterns I’ve noticed in my own life. clan life (and starclan) HAS to be the only way for cats. it has to be accepted willingly, or forced upon the “lesser” groups (see, atheist or simply non christian) or they will be destroyed in some way. chased off their own land, killed, assimilated, etc. the clan cats are colonists just like eropean christians. see, squirrelflight’s hope. why does no one challenge the clan’s ideas that they are entitled to land, any land, that would benefit them? even if other cats live there? because they aren’t christia- I mean clan cats so they’re lesser and their lives are expendable. see again, squirrel flight’s hope.

I know the conflict of that book that everyone remembers (other than the abuse apologists and kids who don’t understand) is bramblestar abusing squirrelflight for 464 pages (and then getting her sister killed but he’s a man so it’s okay), but the glaring problem is the author’s bias on people different from them. there was absolutely no reason the only cat loudly protesting the slaughter of expecting mothers and children was the protagonist. and she was treated as though she were in the wrong, and punished over and over again in this book alone. remember they hate squirrelstar and her ideals. heinous, genuinely. and there wasn’t even a good resolution to that! moonlight died! the sisters had to leave! and then helped them in the next arc! what the fuck! anyway

one will note how christians are known to refer to non christians as “wicked” “evil” “dark” “lost” or other terms to make it pretty clear they think less of you for not sharing their faith. the clans the same. even through uncontrollable circumstances such as birth you are shamed in this society and downright humiliated on a good day, attempted murder on a bad one (stormpaw, featherpaw and stonefur)

and the victim mentality the clans have along with the paranoia that they are constantly at risk of being wiped out despite there being like 30 cats in their fucking colonies at all times. there is always a war on christianity. there is always a fight the clans have to win to survive. they always have to kill someone else, lately someone minding their business, to survive. they have to impose themselves on other cultures because they are the True way of life and they never have to be confronted with the idea that they are just as flawed if not more than their counterparts. and if they are, conveniently their opposition is killed off or written to submit later on proving them right. I will not include bloodclan and the kin in this because they were legitimate threats, even if in a way they were also caused by clan culture.

the most glaringly obvious example of why I believe warriors and christofascism overlap outside of the need to force themselves on everyone, is the inability to question anything without severe punishment. you cannot question god without threat of eternal damnation or being ostracized from peers and even attacked. you cannot question starclan without threat of eternal damnation and the same. even when there is no logical solution but to admit that they’re wrong and cruel and just as petty and dangerous as the dark forest, in the end the lesson is that you should listen to starclan, never doubt, never question, or you will be punished. and there is no hope for redemption even if you offer yourself to be used.

that is the issue I have. and it’s a very obvious one that I’m sure I’m not the only one who says something about it, but depending on where you live, I live in southern america, it’s not hard to see parallels. do I think it will ever escalate to the severity of reality? no. probably not ever. but the fact that I can see it is what worries me.

again not very well written, and I even got anxious towards the end so my apologies if it’s hard to follow or too sloppy! just wanted to share my thoughts even if people don’t agree.

This is really interesting, thanks for sharing!! I thought it was pretty illuminating, as I'm someone who's never heard of the term Christofascism. I don't know enough about Christian discourses or the subject at hand to commentate too much unfortunately, but I really appreciate your taking the time to write this out for me. If you're interested in expanding this further, I'd actually recommend looking into some texts on decolonization, as a lot of what you wrote hit on points similar to that (in my opinion of course).

I'm not really the best person to asks for texts like that so I'm gonna link you to communistkenobi's reading recommendations on the subject.

edit: missed it so thank you to cicadaclan for pointing this out but i'd argue against the separation of bloodclan and the kin in this. bloodclan are literally written to be godless outsiders who hate families. the kin are the continuation of the evil outsider intent on destroying the clans. the kin, whether or not they were a threat, still fall into the evil outsider trope.

#sorry for the rbs being off. i'm not comfortable leading this subject #but i think a lot of the texts on the linked posts are important outside of cat analysis (obviously)

[rozcdust]

Chasing ghosts

Platonic Pairing: Bonten x GN!Reader, Sanzu Haruchiyo x GN!Reader

Genre: Crack, SMAU

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Canon divergent, profanity, ooc, violence, blood draining, gore, drug abuse, conspiracy theories, religious trauma, cancer, religious items, mentions of religious trauma, allergies, seeming disordered eating, Kakucho needs a break

Day 1 of Promptober

A sharp gaze prickled at the back of your neck, making you want to squirm, yet your stubbornness didn’t allow you to show discomfort, your all too damned pride forcing you to keep your focus on the work at hand.

So what if Sanzu was staring at you accusatory the entire past week? You didn’t even do anything, not to him at least, not that you would remember anyway, and even Kakucho told you to not worry about it, that Sanzu was just in one of his drugged-up episodes, and that you had nothing to worry about.

Still.

You were trying to peacefully do your job, and Sanzu was just standing and staring, like a fucking creep.

Ugh.

Mikey should have kept his rabid puppy dog chained.

“Why do you always do that?”

Your head snapped up, an eyebrow quirked.

“Do what?”

“Drain them of blood.”

Sanzu and his stupid fucking questions.

“Because it’s easier to chop them up and turn them into fish food that way? We all do this? Ran literally taught me how to do this. And why are you even here? You’re not doing shit!”

He shrugged, still eyeing you suspiciously, his face nestled into the crook of his elbows as he watched you work.

Rolling your eyes, you choose to ignore him, focusing.

Bodies won’t disappear on their own.

“Kakucho, I don’t know how to convince you, but I’m telling you, y/n’s a fucking vampire. Or possessed. Still not sure which one it is.”

Kakucho's head was buried within his palms as a sound of sheer desperation escaped his throat, his eyes screwed tightly shut to avoid looking at his one true current problem.

Sanzu.

Sanzu spewing bullshit conspiracy theories, precisely.

God help him.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Kakucho opens his good eye to peek at the pink-haired maniac.

“Do I even want to know how you came to this conclusion?” His voice was wary, tired already. This was utter nonsense, and Sanzu should have known it, even if his brain was* utterly and completely fried on whatever the fuck he snorts in his free time.

“Probably not. Wanna see anyway?” The grin playing on the scarred man’s lips made Kakucho nervous.

“No.”

Sanzu stood up from his chair, stretching like an irate cat, and with a quick, unstable step, left the room.

Kakucho thought he was free, and he just breathed a sigh of immense relief when he heard it.

The scratching sound of shitty, rusted wheels on marble floors echoed in the hallway, followed by Sanzu wheeling in a pinboard, a photo of your face thumbtacked to the centre of a true shit show, multiple strings of red yarn connecting it all back to you.

Kakucho almost wept.

He doesn’t get paid enough for this.

Sanzu started by presenting a series of incidents.

Sanzu always found it odd you only ever worked at night, no matter how hard Mikey tried to drag you into meetings in broad daylight, you always refused, persistently and stubbornly, firmly stating that ‘Sun is a horrendous creature of misery and deserves death’ and ‘You’re more of a night owl’ and how you’d rather die than have that disgusting thing ever touch your skin.

Suspicious.

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ (:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

“Okay, and? That proves nothing, Sanzu.”

“Kakucho, shut the fuck up and listen.”

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ ( :̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

Sanzu has been to your house a few, very few, times, as you were always cagey about your personal space and tried to kick all of them out as soon as possible, even if it was your turn to host the poker night and even if it was your turn to be the designated driver and let them sleep off the drunkenness in your house.

But he noticed something… Well, odd.

The blackout curtains.

Thick, dark fabric draped over every one of your windows, covering every possible entry point, blocking the entrance to the balcony and forbidding any and all natural light to as much as shyly try to enter your house.

You almost scalped Kokonoi when he tried to open them once, jumping onto him and forcing him down on the ground, sitting on his back, not getting off until he let go of the curtains and until you could close them all the way shut, muttering about the damage the UV light does to skin or some shit.

And the very few times he did see you in the sun, it was only after you lathered your skin with thick layers of sunscreen from a suspicious bottle with only the words ‘Ew ew sun’ written on it in sharpie.

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ (:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

“Listen,” Kakucho groaned, running his hands down his face, “I get their fear of the sun is weird, and a little excessive, but dude, come on. Their mum died of skin cancer, and she died in their arms, it makes sense they’d be cautious.”

Sanzu frantically shook his head.

“No, because listen, there’s more.”

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ (:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

You barely ever went to dinner with them.

Whenever you were invited, your most likely answer was ‘No, thanks’, and the few times you did agree, you never ordered any food, no matter who was paying, instead opting out for some wine or whiskey instead, under the guise that you don’t really feel hungry.

Every.

Single.

Goddamn time.

You never ate at the headquarters either, or at least, Sanzu has never seen you eat, only ever seeing you sipping on coffee or boba at your desk when he barged into your office unannounced.

He has tried feeding you, but you refused like a stubborn mule every time, coldly saying you don’t trust his cooking before returning to sipping on damn Starbucks.

It was suspicious enough that Ran asked you about it, and you simply explained you have a couple of severe food allergies and don’t feel like dying on a fucking Tuesday from an anaphylactic shock, which did get Ran and Koko to shrug and leave you be, but not Sanzu.

He opened your fridge when he was at your house, just to check what you had in there if you never ate out, but all he found was a block of cheese and a carton of strawberry juice.

Suspicious.

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ (:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

“You dug around their fridge?”

“Kakucho, I don’t think you’re hearing my point.”

“They have allergies. You have no points.”

Sanzu sighed, frustrated, but that quickly got replaced by a smile.

And jazz hands.

“But wait! There’s more!” In his best showbiz tone, Sanzu continued rambling.

Kakucho was ready to cancel his subscription to life.

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ (:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

Rindou sometimes wore crosses.

Not to show his huge devotion to Christianity of course, no, more as an accessory, one that looked damn fine on him if Sanzu was to pass any judgement, the silver crosses with ruby red jasper stones dangling from Rindou’s ears making him seem somewhat sophisticated, giving him the charming energy of a wandering ghost.

You absolutely hated Rindou’s silver cross earrings, a scowl twisting your face anytime you saw them, but you usually chose to say nothing.

Until Rindou noticed, and with an offence that bordered on hilarious, asked you what the fuck your problem was.

You merely sighed.

“Don’t like it when people wear crosses, that’s all.”

Rindou leaned back into his seat, now with a sneer.

“What, you hyper-religious or what?”

“Nah, try to go more ‘growing up with religious trauma’. Crosses just make me uncomfortable.” Shrugging, your gaze went back to your laptop, but Sanzu noticed the way you flinched if Rindou came closer to you when wearing his earrings.

.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚.˳⁺⁎˚..˳⁺⁎˚˳⁺⁎˚ (:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅) ˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳˚⁎⁺˳

“Honestly, you’re starting to sound like an ass. They’re bi, and grew up in a super religious household, of course they’re not all up for fucking religious items.”

Sanzu’s seemingly infinite well of reasons you’re possessed apparently to dried up, and he slumped into his chair with a sour look.

“I’m telling you, and you’re not listening.”

“You honestly sound like you don’t have shit. You literally just misinterpreted their trauma and allergies and made them into some fucking monster, and really dude, that’s fucked.”

Sanzu huffed.

“They’re also allergic to silver! How do you interpret that, huh?!”

Kakucho truly wished to bang his head against the wall.

“They’re allergic to nickel, you piece of absolute ass, as is half the human fucking population, and all silver has nickel because silver by itself is too soft for jewellery.”

Sanzu sunk into his chair, arms crossed, pouting.

Kakucho forced him to write you an apology card.

Even with Kakucho trying to knock some sense into Sanzu, he was still convinced.

There was something off about you, and he knew it.

So as he Googled vampire lore, and possession symptoms side to side, about a thousand tab bars open on his laptop, he stumbled upon something that gave him pause.

Reflections.

You have a reflection, he knew that much, he has seen you try out clothes and pose in front of any fucking shopping window that was polished enough, but there is a catch.

Apparently, vampires in medieval folklore don’t have a reflection because old-timey mirrors are made with silver.

Silver, which you just so happen to be allergic to, and no, fuck what Kakucho said, he’s stupid, Sanzu knew it was silver and not fucking nickel.

Modern mirrors are made with aluminium.

Sanzu took a pause, and in a quick moment of putting two and two together, he texted Kokonoi.

You barely registered Sanzu sneaking into the break room next to you, being too tired at this late hours of the night to focus on anything but the coffee you were brewing.

“Hey, didn’t expect you to be here so late-“

You never got the chance to finish your sentence, because someone is a bitch and that someone just grabbed your fucking arm out of nowhere and started dragging you away.

“Wha-“

“I know what you are.” Sanzu briefly looked back at you to flash a grin, his nails digging into your wrist.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

He didn’t respond as he kicked the doors of the men’s bathroom open.

“Sanzu, what the hell-“

Before you could process it, he grabbed your shoulders, shoving you in front of the mirror, giddiness mixing with glee visible on his stupid, stupid face as he stood behind you.

Your own tired eyes stared back at you.

He blinked.

“Wait, let’s just-“ He carefully pushed you out of the mirror’s reflection, knocking on it as if it were a broken TV, before pushing you back in front of it.

Still just your tired eyes and large eye bags.

“Huh.” His fingers sneaked to the side of your mouth, pulling your upper lip up to reveal small, if a little crooked canines.

Huffing, you wrestled out of his grasp, arms crossed over your chest.

“Mind explaining what the fuck is this about, Haruchiyo, my beloved? If you wanted to look at me you could have just DONE THAT!”

He scratched his head, confusion written all over his features.

“Sorry… Uh, thought you were a vampire.”

You quirked an eyebrow.

A beat of silence passed before you sighed, letting your arms fall to your side.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Sorry.” He slightly bowed before scurrying away, slamming the doors to the bathroom shut, and leaving you alone.

Sighing, you turned to look at yourself, fixing the little bit of makeup that smeared under your eye.

Choosing to think you look presentable, you paused just as you were about to leave, a sort of glee forming on your face as you flashed yourself a grin.

Your canines scratched your bottom lip, drawing just a bit of blood.

You knew that replacing all the mirrors was a smart choice.

🔖Taglist:

@1818cigarettes @nana-phobia @dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @rinsie @kisekihany @missarabellla @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @levistiddies @sanzucide @touyasghost @graythecoffeebean @yukihime-mikeys-girl @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @crybabylisa @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @erza-uzumaki @sh4nn @sisnot @soushswag @kneeapartman

#tokyorev #tokyo revengers #bonten #sanzu haruchiyo x y/n #bonten x reader #kakucho hitto #ran haitani #kokonoi hajime #rindou haitani #manjiro sano

[rachetmath]

Jaune vs Rwby

Yang: Guys it’s Jaune. We have nothing to fear.

Jaune: No.

Yang: What?

Jaune: Run it.

Yang: What?

Jaune: Run me my fade.

Ruby: Wait really? You really want to fight us?

Jaune: ABSOLUTELY!

Ruby: Why?

Jaune: Why?! Oh little bitch. I had to kill Penny. Endanger millions of people. Almost got blown up. Now, I’m trapped on island. Alone. No teammates. All because I was loyal to your dumb ass.

Blake: Jaune, I understand-

Jaune: Cat bitch, you best shut the F*** up, you first on my list.

Blake: Whoa why you mad at-

Jaune: After everything you been through. After confronting and coming with terms with your past. Why- please tell me WHY would you repeat the one thing that caused you a lot of problems? Which was associating with criminals!

Weiss: Well if wasn’t for those ‘criminals’ we wouldn’t have been able sneak in Atlas bases and be able to launch Amity Arena.

Jaune: True. But what happened after the launch? Did anyone show up? Did anyone come to help?

Weiss: … …

Ruby: Well it was more made to warn other kingdoms about Salem. They needed to be prepared.

Jaune: You do know that once everyone starts asking for conformation about Salem and learn about the fall of Atlas, which was known to be the most ADVANCED kingdom in the world, could cause panic. You know that right?

Yang: Well at least we were putting some effort.

Jaune: Goldy Locks your ass is all talk. You haven’t done shit. Even on my team, you was barely useful. Ren, Oscar and myself were carrying you the whole time.

Yang: … …

Jaune: Weiss, you had f***** dust in the chamber. Why did you not use that to repair the walls?

Weiss: I mean I-

Jaune: I have semblance to increase your performance, we could have done something.

Weiss: Well I proved my father cheated-

Jaune: Your father was just business man who we wanted no business with. In all honesty neither him nor Robyn were the best choice for council members. Plus the council barely did anything.

Weiss: … ….

Jaune: So again, run me my fade.

Yang: Okay fine. This will be easy anyways.

Ruby: Yeah. Jaune can’t beat us.

Me: oh its not about whether he can beat you or not.

Ruby: Huh.

Me: It’s about whether can he give you that work.

Ruby: Well-

Me: Ruby, you do know Jaune was almost able to react to Tyrian’s speed right?

Ruby: Well my semblance-

Me: Mercury was able to knock you out of it. Plus, I don’t know if that was fluke but Jaune was fast enough to defend Oscar out of nowhere. Neo didn’t even see him coming. In fact, neither did Cinder.

Yang: My semblance-

Me: How much power can store in your body take?

Yang: Um.

Me: Remember Jaune can amplify you and you will eventually have to release your semblance because it could build up to where you can’t contain it.

Yang: So.

Me: Meaning just like Izuku with One for All,if your body can’t handle the output of your power, then you could end up breaking a few bones.

Yang: Oh dear god.

Blake: Don’t worry Yang, Jaune can’t handle-

Me: Make sure you plenty of dust in chamber.

Blake: Why? I don’t want to hurt Jaune.

Me: Amplification effect the semblance. Remember Ren semblance was unable to cover thousands of people. Jaune helped with that.

Blake: And?

Me: Your semblance literally leaves a past version of yourself for one second. Imagen what could happen if Jaune grabs that clone and amplifies it to stay longer.

Blake He’s just grabbing a- oh my gosh.

Me: Yeah if something happens to your past self wouldn’t it affect you in the present?

Blake: Oh shit and I’m out of dust.

Weiss: Then it’s up to me.

Me: Name one time your summons were useful.

Weiss: Jaune not fast plus it’s four against one.

Me: True you right. But let me add on a special detail in a form a question. Has ever used his grand sword mode?

Ruby: No.

Me: Did Pietro ever removed it?

Ruby: We don’t know.

Me: Not only that doesn’t Jaune have hard light dust and gravity dust?

RWBY: … …

Me: And if I’m correct Jaune uses gravity dust to create waves right?

Ruby: *nervously* And?

Me: Hmm so wouldn’t using it offensive basically be equivalent of using a Gestuga Tensho or Excalibur.

Weiss: Oh my goodness! Give us a break!

Me: Also, fun fact, hard light dust can burn you skin. I wonder how would it affect metal.

Yang: OH COME ON!

Me: Good luck ladies.

RWBY and Jaune fan: … … …

Me: What?

RWBY fan: You do know everything say is not canon and is only a theory.

Me: I mean, yeah, duh, I’m no fool. But if everything I said could be true, then ya’ll would hate him and RT even more.

Jaune fan: How come?

Me: If what I said is to be true, then why didn’t Jaune try none those methods on any of his enemies.

RWBY and Jaune fan: … … …

Jaune fan:  My god man.

RWBY fan: The plot damn it.

(Hello. It’s been a while since I lasted posted anything. I’m not died though so please hear me out. I’ve been working on a few projects to get used to process that I really want to learn. I will show you shortly. Also I will release some artwork.)

#rwby #ruby rose #weiss schnee #Blake Belladonna #yang xiao long #Jaune Arc

[eddieschains]

Thief. JK. (That’s just kidding not Jungkook) can I get 38 with Joe? Or Billy if you’re feeling up to writing him.

or whoever you want to write it for really onkksh really wanna see 38 lmao

the way you tempted me to write this for Jungkook just because… anyways i went with Joe because i’m so scared to write for Billy 😭 hope you still like it!!!

38. “We passed “just friends” about 20 fucks ago”

You and Joe had been attached at the hip practically since you two were born. Your parents were friends, which resulted in you two basically being forced to be the same.

Growing up, you did everything together. Went on trips together, went to parties together, hell you even would do double dates together. An excessive amount. It’s probably why neither of you could keep a relationship for more than a few months. Always something about how your partners thought you had feelings for each other. You always brushed it off, saying they didn’t understand your relationship. But with time, they proved to be right.

It was a drunken night out. Your parents anniversary party. You and Joe had a little too much to drink, ended up going home with each other, and fucked in every room until neither of you could stand straight anymore.

You both thought it was a regretful decision. But for some reason, you kept doing it. Every weekend without fail to be exact. The same thing, go out, get a bit tipsy, come home, and let your sexual frustrations out on each other.

You thought it was only physical. Which was fine at first. You weren’t getting laid anywhere else, so why not do it with someone you felt the most comfortable and safe with?

But, it’s easy to get attached when you have the same man thrusting inside of you and telling you how beautiful you are every week.

You’d been avoiding Joe for weeks now. Trying to process your feelings for him. Wondering if maybe it’s just the hormones talking, or if you really do love him.

Of course you love him. But only as a friend, right? Right…?

As the weeks go by, your phone becomes flooded with more messages everyday from Joe. You always gave him some lame excuse of you being tired, or not feeling well. And when he offered to come over for support, you ghosted him.

You never had a problem that he couldn’t solve, or that you didn’t need his assistance for. He knew something was up, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. That’s probably why he was pounding on your door at 9 pm.

“Jesus i’m coming!” You yell from inside the house. You huff a sigh before opening the door, being met with a very worried looking Joe. “Joseph.”

“Y/N.” He responds, pushing his way past you and into the living room. You groan, closing the door behind him. “So… wanna tell me what’s wrong? Or do I have to guess?” He sits on the arm of the couch, arms crossed as he awaits your answer.

“Nothing is wrong, Joe. Just haven’t been feeling great.” You take a seat on the couch, hoping if you fake sick he’ll leave you alone.

“You don’t look sick.” He sits next to you, examining your face. “Are you running a fever?” He places the back of his hand on your forehead. “No…”

“Joe stop!” You spit. He stops in his tracks, placing his hand back in his lap. “God I- I just…” You trail off, not able to complete your sentence.

“Well spit it out, won’t you?” He lightly chuckles.

“I need to know what this is. What we are.” He sucks in a breath, averting his eyes from yours. “Are we just friends who fuck or are we more? I need to know because if i’m honest, i’m catching feelings. But you probably don’t feel the same way and i’m just embarrassed by the whole thi-“

He cuts you off by smashing his lips against yours. You fall back slightly, before bringing your hand to his neck and sinking into it.

“Babe… I think we passed just friends 20 fucks ago.” You let out a sigh of relief, laughing at the way he was always able to find humor in the most vulnerable moments.

“Oh thank god. You have no idea how scared I was to talk about this.” You smile.

“I could tell. If you weren’t running a fever before you might be now.” He giggles, dramatically touching your face to check.

“Well i’m feeling a bit better now…” You smirk.

smut prompts!!

He picks you up off the couch, leading you to the bedroom. “Then what are we waiting for?”

#quinnypixie #stevie 💜 #joseph quinn drabble #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn rpf #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x fem reader #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn

[cherienymphe]

Nah I agree. I've never quite gotten that because for argument's sake even if you do change your mind down the road, there's literally no way to know that. If someone told me they didn't want children I wouldn't even question that because you know yourself better than I do 😭 idk why so many people think every woman needs to have children anyway. I could honestly go on a whole tangent about motherhood and such but alas

Lmao I mean if you want to go on that tangent I’m listening…

This is probably going to be long but-

Motherhood is a very serious role that is so often downplayed it makes me sick. As far along as we've come with technology, childbirth is still very incredibly dangerous. Plenty of women still die from complications of childbirth. Death aside, childbirth and pregnancy still has a lot of possible side effects on the body that I feel the average woman doesn't even know about. Those reasons alone are enough to understand why some women don't want to have children.

Now into my more radical opinions...

I'm very much pro abortion. Not even just pro abortion but I'm very much pro death. I genuinely feel like women are co creators with God or the universe or whatever you want to believe in and our ability to create life is hand in hand with our ability to create death. I do not think every bloodline deserves to continue on and I wish women in general were just more picky with who they procreate with. It's why I'm so pro choice because a lot of these men don't deserve children. They don't deserve to have any parts of themselves passed down. In just about every other species in the animal kingdom the males have to prove themselves to the females in order to be picked and those that don't make the cut will have to deal with their particular bloodline dying off. Idk why we don't do that as a whole but it's annoying af. Everybody thinks everybody is entitled to a child and they're not.

Children are a privilege, not a right, and the problem is that too many people believe the opposite. No one is entitled to children. They're people, not property and accessories and pets that you decide you want just because it's what's expected or because you're lonely. You're raising a person who will hopefully grow up to contribute something positive to this world. What they contribute to society all depends on you as a parent and some people 100% should not have that role idc. It's literally the foundation of what the world will be like decades on depending on how you raise your children and what's instilled in them. You shouldn't just want anyone taking on that role and you especially shouldn't want people becoming parents who don't even want to be parents.

#asks

[v-taehyung-kim]

Mr. Jeon

“So, class, is that understood?”

What? What is meant to be understood? Fuck. I stared at him too long and zoned the FUCK out.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” said the class in unison while I just… sat there. My face gives away my confusion and well, just like every-fucking-thing else, shit is against me. For some reason my face just cannot hide my true emotions, so I’m an open book for EVERYONE to read. I can’t even lie, which is so useless in any school setting. Well this is University, but y’know , same thing.

“Miss y/l/n, kindly stay after class, I’d like to have a quick word,” Mr. Jeon says rather sternly, which is amazing it’s exactly what my soul wants to be fed with. Uh, a hot, sassy, stern and HANDSOME man? Yeah, I’ll take the whole lot, thanks. Also, it’s technically professor Jeon, but he likes to be a little more casual with us.

God Y/N can you quit rambling within your own head?

As the rest of the class heads out the lecture room, I gather my things and head up to the teacher’s desk.

“Am I in trouble?” I ask, awkwardly laughing. Does saying ha-ha literally count as laughing at all…? Fuck he’s talking-

“-and that’s not trouble as such, however, passing this class requires full attention.”

“Uh, sir, with all due respect, I’m doing fairly well in the tests recently, being a bit lost-in-the-daydream, or, I don’t know, zoning out thinking about something exciting, is, in my humble opinion, normal…yes?” I say fumbling with the corner of my skirt, which I definitely wore to get his attention. But I’m making a solid point here!

“Lost in the daydream? What are you talking about?”

“Uh. Isn’t that what you’re raising an issue with?”

“No, Miss Y/L/N but that is also proving to be a problem. Hmm. No, I was talking about not overloading your course load this semester with extra classes. Graduating early sounds great, only if you’re physically capable. I thought you were looking quite ill, for as long as you’ve been in my class. But I see now that’s just you zoning out? And every class?” He says, crossing his arms against his chest and furrowing his eyebrows. Phew that’s HOT. Okay no focus. For once, focus.

To be fair, I understand him. I zone out in all of his classes, daydreaming about him. I know I have to impress him though so I make an extra effort to rewatch his lectures and perform well in the tests. Well, that is actually tiring me out. Maybe I am sick?

Sick in loooove-

“Miss Y/L/N?”

God if I hear that from his mouth one more time-

“No, yeah, it’s a problem. I don’t know. I’m so sorry Mr. Jeon. Rest assured, I’m able to handle my schedule, at least so far I have been able to. Thank you for your concern!” I smile awkwardly, moving to the right to exit the class.

“If paying attention is hard, feel free to ask for help to repeat or explain any concept you need. I can let you know when I’m not in class, and you can visit my office.”

He said WHAT?

Uh.

Yeah, no, I’m gonna take him up on that fucking offer.

“Really? Yes, that would be very helpful. Thank you.”

“Alright. I’ll email you my schedule. Come with good questions.” He says and gets to clearing the whiteboard.

I awkwardly smile again, with my teeth forming a box, and leave.

Okay.

Time to process what happened.

Is he interested in me? No. He doesn’t give that vibe, at all. He probably thinks I’m an air head and doesn’t realise that I’ve the fattest and fastest growing crush on him, so that’s good.

He literally doesn’t care about me. That’s good. A one sided crush and I can fantasise about him all I want. Everything is better in my head anyway.

Reality is no good.

————-

It’s good that I actually have questions and this is actually a fantastic opportunity to learn better from someone that has researched this topic.

Definitely not just an amazing opportunity to potentially have his babies. Nah, a long way to go for that.

I pack up my notes and a bunch of highlighters- because I’m so shit at being organised I just keep loose highlighters, pens, you name it. At least I have some? Does the job.

“Good evening, Mr. Jeon. Thank you so much for giving me your time like this,” I said, blushing, because wow this is so… I mean… we’re alone in his office.

He chose to see me after he was done for the day but still in office to do some grading, which is good because I don’t need to feel pressured that he has another class coming up.

“Oh no worries. Anything for a bright student like yourself.”

Fuck, there I go blushing again.

“Are you feeling alright? You look like the heat really got to you today?”

Oh yeah, the heat radiating off your body- SHUT THE FUCK UP Y/N AND SAY SOMETHING!

But you just asked me to shut up?

Quit talking to yourself in your head dumbass and SAY SOMETHING-

And my face just for redder in embarrassment.

“Oh, yeah, phew, it’s HOT outside today!” I said, quite loudly, which is EXTREMELY awkward. Fantastic.

“Here, I’ll turn this aircon on for you. Don’t worry about it, get comfortable,” he says, turning the aircon on. Honestly that would be nice.

I take a seat by his desk and pull out my notes.

“So, I actually do have questions, but some might be out of curriculum. I went down a rabbit hole whilst researching the answers to my questions, and it only led to more questions.” I said, gathering myself and actually getting serious.

‘Actually getting serious’ you’re such a joke y/n-

-DON’T talk to me I’ve got shit to do!

You’re talking to yourself-

Ssh he’s talking!

“Classic sign of a good student. Your curiosity is valuable, hold onto it. Ask away, love.” He says, smiling so cutely, fuck.

‘LOVE?’

LOVE??????????????? NO NO NO I CANNOT ZONE OUT-

I clear my throat and ask my first question.

“Can you please explain the embryological development of the small and large intestines? I don’t know if it’s my lack of spatial imagination but I cannot visualise the twisting and turning, the umbilical cord and literally everything else.” The words came pouring out, and I’m thankful for that.

“Ah, of course. Let me draw it out for you, love.”

This is gonna be hell.

——

“It’s satisfying to have my questions answered, I must say. And I’m impressed you answered every single one, somehow?” I said, quite casually.

It took one session for me to actually become comfortable with him, and he’s actually more human that I expected him to be. He’s so dreamy, I didn’t think he’d be normal. And funny. And sweet. And cute. I’m in love.

“Well, I aim to please.” He said… slightly smirking and looking away.

This bitch.

Please me.

“Haha, yeah…” of course I’m fucking awkward, how else do I respond to that?

“So are you pleased?

“Uh, yeah. I did say it was satisfying.”

“Well, mission accomplished. I’d love to be of help to you, love.” He said, very casually, making it look like none of this sounds strangely sexual. Maybe it’s in my head because I’m a horndog for him, so sure.

“Oh man, I really need to head out to get some groceries before I get home. Would you like me to drop you home?” He says, packing things up along with me.

Classic. Yes take me home.

“That’s really kind of you, I’d love that. I mean not love, I just mean, it’ll be really nice, nice I guess in a way that I won’t have to take public transport at rush hour-“

“- I get it, Miss Y/L/N, I’d love to take you home.”

Oh hell no.

Not in my head.

Not in my HEAD.

But he LOOKS LIKE IT MEANS NOTHING? It doesn’t sound suggestive… I’m a fuckin’ creep.

“Haha, okay… I can come to the grocery store too. I live alone, so I need to figure this out.”

“Oh? I live alone as well, I have the same reasons.”

Come to think of it, he does look very young, and he is actually the youngest in our faculty. But being young doesn’t mean you can’t have a wife or a husband.

———

This grocery store is as dead as his feelings for me. Fun.

He’s picking out the good tomatoes from the bad, and I’m hoping he squishes my tomato-

That’s actually disgusting, y/n. Get a hold of yourself.

What do I say then? Pick my strawberry? Peel my banana? Mash my potato? Tear my clothes off like tearing layers off an onion? FUCK-

SHUT THE FUCK UP!!

“Aren’t you going to… buy something? You’re just standing there?”

He thinks I’m a fucking creep, I know it.

“Yeah, nah, just thinkin’, “ I say, extra casually, y’know, because I’m cool. Keeping it cool. Smooth. Ice. Chill. Freezin’.

Simpin’.

“Thinking about what, this time? I’d love to know what you zone out about.”

Why is so fucking hot?

“Uh, haha, not much really!”

“Not much? You Zone out every 10 minutes.” Damn he noticed, huh?

It’s true, though.

“Mr. Jeon, I’ve heard it’s rude to ask someone to tell you their deepest darkest secrets.”

Why did I say that

Why

Did I say that

“Call me Jungkook.”

…..

Take a deep breath…

I’M ABOUT TO-

-SHUT THE FUCK UP AND REPLY BEFORE HE THINKS YOU’RE INSANE!

“J-j-uh.. j-j-uhhh-jungkook?” I say awkwardly, scratching my head and squinting my eyes, breathing heavily.

“That’s right, love. Jungkook. Can I call you y/n? I mean, we’re not that far apart in age and we’re not at Uni. If you’re okay with that of course, I respect your space.” CONSENT, BABY!

I guess we aren’t that far apart in age. But it’s a bit too much for my heart and my tomato to hear my name coming from his mouth.

“Y-yeah! Psshh, duh! Of course. Yeah no that’s all good.” I say laughing a bit too loudly and grabbing onto our cart, only to fail to actually grab onto it, nearly fucking TRIPPING.

“Sorry, haha, senses not working today. Heatstroke, remember?” No, y/n, that makes no sense you never had a heatstroke and if you did, you wouldn’t be here.

“Y/n,” he says, getting serious for some reason.

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Crap.

I sigh.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m a little ditzy, that’s all.”

“Don’t apologise. It’s adorable.” He mumbles, smiling and looking away.

Yeah you stare at those damn tomatoes after turning me into one.

I’m… adorable? My exes all called me annoying, so, yeah.

“Adorable?”

“Yeah. It’s really cute how you get awkward, and sometimes ramble and fumble, I take notice of it all.” He smirks, adorably so.

Wait, that’s so… sweet.

“Oh, haha… yeah, I’m…I do that alright…” I nervously play with my fingers, looking down.

“Come on love, let’s get you your groceries.”

He pushes me along by my shoulders, laughing.

He ended up getting all my veggies in the cart, and nearly doing all the work for me. I just said the word, and he’d put it in the cart.

I’m feeling things.

Paying for my bit and him paying for his, we get in his car.

I forgot he’s Mr. Jeon for this entire duration…

“Jungkook?” I ask, as he’s putting his seatbelt on.

“Yes, love?”

Stop sounding like my boyfriend, fuck.

“Are you sure it’s okay for us to be so casual? You’re my professor?” I feel awkward even asking this question because now I’ve made things weird.

“How do you mean? We’re okay. I’m sorry, did I make you feel weird?”

No, please keep going.

“Oh no, it’s not something you did. It’s okay, haha.”

He turns to me and looks into my eyes for about 30 seconds. I’m worried about what he’s about to say.

“I think you’re really funny, y/n. And a bright student, I loved teaching you more about what we studied. It’s fun for me, as a teacher. I just think you’re interesting as a person.”

Somehow, I could tell by his face that he felt a bit conflicted but tried to make it sound okay.

“That means a lot to me, jungkook.”

———

A few weeks went by and we were getting closer at the speed of light.

I realised he’s so much more loveable and attractive than whatever his exterior shows. It started off as a crush on my hot teacher, but he’s such an amazing guy. He’s so gentle, listens so well, understands me, is so sweet and smiles so genuinely. He puts up no front, he’s so real and true to himself, his pure heart shines through. He’s generous, and actively gives back to the community. He makes the lamest jokes, and at the same time, is the smartest man in the room.

I’m fucked to say the least.

Here is walking perfection within my reach and now actually a close friend of mine, and I can’t even tell him how beautiful he is.

Weird to call him a friend, but we just connect so well.

“Jungkook, I swear, this shit has me turning my brain inside out. Draw this out too, please.” I say, sitting on his couch cross legged, staring at my notes.

“Y/N, for the last time, it doesn’t get simpler than this diagram right here. Even if I want to draw this, it’ll be the same as the diagram.” He says calmly, looking directly at me.

“Alright, fine. Can we take a break? My brain is fried, I can’t even comprehend the page number. Like, what? How did I get to page 254 when I was page 250?”

“You’re really asking me that?”

I awkwardly look towards my left and right before answering. “Uh??? Noooo? Of course not? I just, you know, yeah…”

“…yeah, okay, break time.”

I sigh in frustration as he gets up to clear the table away and put our notes aside.

I pull out my phone to scroll through Instagram to scroll till my brain is positively hollow, but then jungkook calls out my name.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm.”

“Love?”

Jesus fucking-

My head immediately snaps up and he smirks, seeing how I immediately respond to that.

He laughs a bit, and I blush knowing he’s caught me.

“Come here, love.”

Come here? Where? There?!

I get up and move towards him, and wait for him.

He pulls me into a hug and gently puts his hands in my hair, massaging my head.

“You must be tired. And this is going to sound strange but… you make me protective over you, with how adorable you can be. I’m sorry if it sounds inappropriate. I mean this with sincerity and care.” He says so softly, I’m going to yell.

Yell and screech, bitch.

“Jungkook, that’s incredibly sweet…” I breathe him in, and it ends up being audible.

He laughs at that, and hugs me tighter.

I’m in love. I don’t want more than him.

“I’m here, know that.” He says, so gently I could cry.

“And I’m here.”

We look into each others eyes and I feel all my love for him at once.

He smiles at me, putting stray bits of hair behind my ears.

His emotions seem so genuine, that he really cares for me.

“I’m here.” He says, again.

“And I’m here.”

We smile together, and I decide I want to squeeze him tight.

————-

Y’know, if I wasn’t sure before, I’m sure of it now.

I love him.

It’s true, it’s no longer a crush.

This has been a bad idea. I can’t even actually date him, so what the fuck do I do now?

I’ve been staring at him in class the entire time and I’ve completely zoned out. I know he knows it, he gave me a suspicious look. It’s fantastic, I’m exposing my own ass.

But he’s been staring at me too, every now and then. He looks my way so many times, it’s probably noticeable to others. Good thing I’m sort of hidden away.

But he probably looks at me like his younger sister, since I don’t see him making any particular moves or saying anything that’s remotely romantic.

He’s definitely not into me.

The class gets over and I head directly towards the exit because god knows, I need a break from FEELINGS.

“Miss y/l/n. Please come to my desk. Now.” Girl, I-

“Yes, sir.”

The classroom is now empty and I’m standing before him all awkward.

“Sir?” I say, looking at him, who is looking at me.

“Sir? Really?”

“What? Are you not my teacher? Professor? Sir seems like the obvious thing to call you.”

“And yet you talk to me like that? If you’re being professional, you may as well be more formal.”

“Uh, okay. Hello, sir. What is it that you wanted to speak to me about? I apologise if I caused any inconvenience.”

“As a matter of fact, you did, miss y/l/n.”

“I’m sorry, sir. What is it that I did?”

“Look, y/n. I noticed you really were not paying attention today, and you know this class is important for the upcoming test! The inconvenience is grading you badly!”

I want you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Come on, y/n. Your head has been in the clouds recently! You don’t ask me more questions, you’ve been doing the bare minimum!”

Can I marry you?

“No, yeah, I know.”

“I’m glad that you do but do you realise what’s at stake here? You want to graduate early, yes? Well failing a class will only delay the process! Come on…” he continues to talk, but honestly, I’m just lost in his eyes.

I like it when he yells. So passionate. His eyes are so lovely, so cute. Can I look into them forever? I’d love to marry him. Right now. Okay, tomorrow. He’s so perfect. Does he have eye dimples? Of course he does. I’ve known that from the beginning. I studied his face. Now I want to know more about him. Even more than I already do. He’s so… dreamy…

“Y/N! ARE YOU LISTENING?” He raises his voice, for the first time actually, and I jump in surprise.

“What in the world had gotten into you? Fuck. Meet me after my day ends, we need to discuss this.” He says, and leaves immediately.

Well.

Fuck.

————

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND YOU’VE BEEN SLACKING?”

I’m sitting on his couch, listening to him get mad at me. Shucks, I fell in love with you, sue me.

“Y/N, I understand slacking off is not a conscious choice and you’re probably dealing with something and asking you to “get your act together” is the worst form of support and dismisses the root problem. So, talk to me. Please, love. I care for you.” He says, sighing.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t mean to.” He apologises, looking down.

You’re so intelligent and kind to me. I love you.

I love you.

“I love you.”

I think out loud, and immediately turn pale.

“What?”

“I love your kindness!”

“You didn’t say that,”

“No, no, sorry I didn’t complete my thought haha! Okay I need to get home now, I left frozen chicken breast out to defrost and I need to cook it. I just remembered!” I say hurriedly and attempt to get up.

Pushing me back down, he sits on the couch next to me and takes my face into his hands.

It doesn’t take a second before he places his lips on mine and I think I’m about to lose my mind.

He’s so soft, so gentle, but so passionate and… I open my mouth to let him enter and I really do believe I’m going to pass out.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He groans, and it makes me groan.

He pulls away to look into my eyes.

Do I even want to know what he’s going to say next?

#jungkook one shot #bts fanfic #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #bts #jungkook fluff #bts jungkook #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #jungkook oneshot

[just-horrible-things]

‘Verse: Resistance AU: Chewtoy Timeline: Canada

Safe // Unsafe [Next]

The slightest thing makes her flinch. The sound of a mug being put down slightly carelessly. The sound of the door. Connor walking into the room. Connor getting annoyed on the phone. Connor moving too suddenly, or getting too close.

It’s like the escape never happened, and she’s still waiting for her alarm to wake her. Or for Riven to walk in the front door with cuffs for her swinging cheerily from his fingers.

It doesn’t seem to matter how many people tell her she’s safe, or how much power they have to protect her – because they do. There’s no reason, not really, to doubt. She got out of the country. Connor got her out. She has the protection of a foreign government here.

That’s the win condition, isn’t it?

It doesn’t seem to matter how long she spends reading up on all the protections asylum seekers get here, or all the ways Canada refuses to cooperate with the United States. It doesn’t matter how good the new locks are that Connor had fitted on all the doors and windows.

It’s like she doesn’t remember how to be safe.

She’s scared she never will.

And Connor – Connor seems to take it as a personal insult, like she’s doing it on purpose just to get on his nerves.

“Don’t be afraid of me,” he says. And, “How can you still think I’m going to hurt you? Haven’t I proved that I’m not going to do that?” Haven’t I sacrificed enough? He doesn’t say that, but she hears it anyway. I ruined my life for you, don’t I deserve a little gratitude?

“I’m sorry,” she says, because just like she can’t stop herself from flinching, she can’t stop the apologies from slipping out before she even realises they’re on her lips. 

And Connor knows it’s just another kind of flinch, and the disappointment in his eyes is crushing every time, and she is sorry for making him feel that way but she’s said the words too many times and they don’t mean anything anymore.

“How do I make you feel safe?” he asks, sometimes almost pleading. And she has no answer for him because he’s right, she should already feel safe, he’s done more than enough.

She is grateful, she’s so grateful. She can’t even wrap her head around what he’s done for her, it’s overwhelming.

She wonders if he regrets it yet.

Whatever he was imagining, this doesn’t seem to be it.

Probably he thought he’d get his friend back.

She doesn’t know how to tell him that that person – that naïve, reckless, thoughtless, trusting, bright-eyed young idiot – is never coming back.

She doesn’t know how to come to terms with it herself.

She could swear she was better than this, even a couple of months ago still under Riven’s heel. She was stronger than this. She got her work done, even though it was far too much. She got up in the morning, every morning, without fail, and she put up with the pain and the exhaustion, and yes, she flinched easily but even that she doesn’t think was as bad as it is now.

Shouldn’t it be better? Not worse. She’s safe. She’s in less pain than she’s been in god knows how long. She can sleep as much as she likes. Things should be easier – but instead she’s falling apart. She can’t seem to do the simplest things right, like she doesn’t even remember how to take care of herself.

It’s terrifying.

Maybe those last few awful weeks broke something inside her, something that had somehow held just barely through the years of abuse but finally gave way right at the end. Maybe rescue came just a little too late.

Or maybe Riven was right. Maybe she needs to be controlled, maybe that always has been her problem. Maybe she only functions if someone forces her.

Maybe it would be easier if Connor stopped pitying her. She doesn’t know what to do with pity. If he just told her to pull herself the fuck together and start pulling her own weight, maybe she could do it.

God knows she isn’t any use as she is now.

Connor’s doing everything, spending all the hours on the phone with lawyers and banks and officials and who knows what else. Connor books her medical check-ups, Connor brings home the food, Connor’s found a job to support her and she just lies around at home too afraid to leave her room in a completely safe, locked house with no one else inside it.

She’s not surprised he’s getting sick of her already. She doesn’t blame him.

The thoughts spiral around and around and around and she lies in bed staring at the ceiling until the guilt finally grows large enough to eclipse the – the whatever-it-is that seems to glue her in place. And then she gets up and vacuums, or cleans the bathroom, or whatever.

One thing she can do is keep the place clean. She can manage that much.

And – sometimes when she’s washing dishes or folding laundry – sometimes it doesn’t feel so bad. 

These are simple, normal tasks. She’s barely done most of them in years – scrubbing blood out of concrete isn’t quite the same – but her hands still remember what to do.

Sometimes there’s a quiet satisfaction in it. Making the space neat and clean and pleasant. For Connor, but also for herself.

But then other times it just doesn’t hit right, and then she gets angry at herself for failing to find that hoped-for peace, and angry at herself for resenting doing something as small as housework when Connor’s doing everything for her, and she ends up bitterly scrubbing plates far too hard until the rough side of the sponge rubs her knuckles raw.

Sometimes she breaks one, just because she can. Just because she’s angry and it feels good to break something for no other reason than she wants to.

If Connor notices the pieces in the trash, she’ll tell him it was an accident. He’ll believe her. Her hands shake pretty badly sometimes and it makes her clumsy.

The catharsis lasts only until Connor gets home already radiating irritation, and the tension instantly has Ari on edge. Something about the bank being unhelpful – which logically has nothing to do with Ari, but suddenly anything she does could piss him off. Suddenly she is acutely aware of how much patience it must take to live with her, and deeply reluctant to draw any attention to herself until he’s in a better mood.

She remembers the shards of broken plate in the trash with guilt and dread. Suddenly she’s not so sure he’ll believe it was an accident.

Connor goes straight to his room to change his clothes, and – like a guilty child trying to hide the evidence of her crimes – Ariadne goes to the kitchen to get rid of the trash before he has a chance to notice.

It’s stupid. She knows even as she’s tying off the top of the bag that it’s stupid. Why would Connor be looking that closely at the trash? Why is she fucking scared? It’s one plate, what does she think he’s going to do? 

Even if he hit her – which he won’t, she’s pretty sure – all it would do is maybe knock some sense into her.

The shards of plate clink – distinctively ceramic – as she lifts the bag. She winces. She looks over her shoulder. Connor’s not even there. She’ll just – get it outside. It needs taking out anyway. There’s nothing strange about what she’s doing.

Her palms are sweating like she’s trying to sneak past Riven with a beating at stake. It’s stupid. It’s so stupid. She’s safe. She’s not sure if she’s more worried over the plate, or about getting caught acting so furtive for no damn reason.

She’s reaching for the front door when Connor’s door reopens.

She’s not sure what happens in her brain. Something short-circuits. A flash of panic – just momentary but searingly intense – and she doesn’t feel her knees hit the floor but she feels the familiar sharp ache that follows.

And Connor is staring at her.

“Jesus Christ Ariadne,” he says. “Get up.”

The flood of shame drives all other feelings right out of her head. Her face burns. She can feel the blood pulsing in her skin, like it’s trying to force its way out through her pores with every beat of her pounding heart.

She’s not sure she’s ever gotten up off the floor faster, but it’s not fast enough. She can’t take it back, and Connor’s looking at her like he isn’t sure if he’s upset or disgusted, and Ari wants to curl up and die.

“I am not Riven.” The sharpness in his voice puts her hackles up, adds anger to the sick muddle of fear and self-disgust and humiliation. “I’m sorry,” she says and it comes out bitter and sharp-edged – the kind of tone that would get her slapped if he was Riven. “What am I doing,” he demands, “to seem like him?”

She has no answer because there is no answer.

She can’t do this, she can’t be in the room with him, she’s going to scream at him or cry or wind up back on her knees.

She grabs her trash bag by the tied top – not caring at all any more about the clink of the ceramics. She wrenches the front door open, practically throws herself through, and slams it harder than she has to behind herself.

She doesn’t know where she’s going. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if he follows her.

But he doesn’t follow her.

She takes the trash out to the curb, and drops it into the can without ceremony. She doesn’t kick it only because she doesn’t want to look like a crazy person in the street.

What now?

She can’t face Connor yet. She doesn’t know how to talk to him. She just… she just needs to breathe. She’ll just find somewhere to sit down, and breathe.

She doesn’t know how to do this.

She doesn’t even know what “this” is. Everything. Nothing. 

Shhh, she tells herself. Just breathe. Just – one step at a time. Just gotta – ride it out until she can figure out what she’s gonna do when she goes back inside.

It shouldn’t be hard. 

It is.

[Next]

#my writing #verse: resistance #au: chewtoy #chewtoy!ariadne #connor thompson #neither of these people know the first thing about trauma #they are struggling

[aranarumei]

I’m losing my mind over mitsukou. together and separately all the time honestly…

anyways my point that I was ruminating over this time is that I think it is genuinely evil (in a good way) how we’ve been seeing mitsuba like. while he hasn’t been here. like, in the red house, kou sees a bunch of temptations / wishes, right? and he starts off by cheerfully ignoring them, saying he’ll ignore everything, only for the red house’s mitsuba to go “who are you going to ignore?” and appear right in front of it.

which. considering the last time kou and mitsuba were actually spending time together, kou was stressed out over what he should be prioritizing and worrying that he wasn’t actually doing anything of value… I imagine that question is especially hurtful. and of course considering mitsuba’s own hang ups and what he’d been through, of course it would hurt more. but kou’s reaction to that entire scene with mitsuba in the red house is really interesting, because it’s like… comforting in this twisted way, right? mitsuba depends on only him and asks him to please die. he believes in kou and kou never thinks that people are capable of believing in him (he thinks he’s making mitsuba anxious!) and that’s sort of what snaps him out of it. we see snippets of other things, too—hanako being unrepentantly evil so kou can exorcise him without remorse, teru changing his attitude towards supernaturals… and those are kind of the same, right? kou like. likes hanako as a person. it’s not good to think that’s he’s 100% evil.

but even though kou will confront all of that and say yes it would be easier if things are like that, but they’re not, when he gets the mitsuba the manga has him go “and mitsuba…” AND THEN HE NEVER FINISHES THE SENTENCE. listen it’s wonderful character writing. it’s the same way that kou tell everyone he’s coming along with their expedition to save aoi to protect nene, and then adds “and I have something to take care of…” while we’re visually shown mitsuba. the way he speaks about becoming a supernatural to nene and thinks of mitsuba during the severance but doesn’t say things about it. the way that during his fight with no.6 he talks about solving peoples problems and bringing them happiness and calls mitsuba “that guy.” hell nene doesn’t even know about the entire mitsuba thing until she meets mitsuba herself and even then kou is really casual about the whole thing, not even revealing much about the situation.

I think there’s just so much there. and ultimately I think it’s a lot of like. wow. kou is confused about how he’s feeling! what should he be doing! and I think while kou does see what’s good about hanako in his introduction chapter, and that supernaturals r not necessarily monolithic evil, mitsuba’s also a huge facet in determining kou’s views towards supernaturals—he wants to exorcise this ghost and then through that trip ends up wanting to be friends with him and feeling so so so joyful when he sees him again. god. don’t even make me talk abt the moment where kou grabs mitsuba’s hand. that’s another post. but yeah I feel like he’s very careful and secretive about how he feels towards mitsuba because it’s very complicated for him and maybe hard to understand or express

so yeah. and now we have like, mitsuba showing up again (and I still have trust issues bc of the red house), right when kou’s been told to exorcise a low grade spirit, and he’s doing it in an effort to prove himself… man do things feel circular as hell. (side note why is mitsuba registered as a low grade spirit? only time will tell)

#kiri.txt #mitsukou #tbhk spoilers #jshk spoilers #in this essay I will #liveblog

[kohakhearts]

ok i was sleep deprived tweeting about this but i got at least 6 hours of sleep last night so im ready to approach this with a degree of normalness. anyway remember when i said i was going to start shipping bloombolt ironically. well lets just say ive been thinking about things they have in common LMFAO but you’re likely unsurprised this is actually my way of saying Here’s How ShigeGou Can Still Win-

ANYWAY THE POINT BEING. goh? terrible friend. god he sucks. actually, chloe doesn’t even consider him a friend, at least not to his face (probably because he thinks friends are a hinderance to his goals and he’s got a lot of problems that make him think he doesn’t need friends he just needs to be the Bestest Coolest Guy Ever Who Knows Everything About Pokemon). in their debut episode they are 6 years old and she introduces him as someone who “hangs around my dad’s lab a lot” (possibly could be “comes to play at my dad’s lab a lot,” which isn’t REALLY much better - still holds the implication that he comes to play with her dad’s pokemon or his cool pokemon-related technology rather than her). she says to professor oak she invited him to pokemon camp simply because he’s always at her dad’s lab and she knew he’d like it.

ok now hear me out here. aside from the fact that she doesn’t EVER call herself goh’s friend, there is zero indication that chloe dislikes goh. actually, she tries pretty hard for him! she clearly likes him, or at least feels bad for him because she can tell he’s lonely (i theorize this is because he’s just like her. that her father’s status as what professor oak himself in this same scene calls A GENIUS has resulted in her feeling somewhat isolated. it’s probably in that “adults always want to talk about how great my dad is and the other kids pick up on it and think i’m Weird And Annoying because all our teachers and their parents seem to think i’m Special” way). it seems that her refusal to acknowledge that they Are friends stems more from the fact that she is aware - perhaps from experience - that attempting to establish that they Are friends will only make him push back, and maybe push her away. she is playing a game with rules that he decided on because his Complex is so ingrained in him even at 6 years old that he tells her to her face I Don’t Need Friends >:(

if this is sounding at all familiar, perhaps you’ve heard my pallet childhood friends spiel. if not, not to worry, for i wrote all about it here. the tl;dr here however is that whether or not ash and gary being childhood friends who go like see movies together or whatever is a late-series addition, there’s actually no good reason to think they DON’T have some kind of established relationship prior to the season one pilot. actually, it seems more as though gary has made the decision for the both of them that it’s time to stop being kids and start being serious - on the day they get their first pokemon, he declares ash his rival and begins calling him satoshi-kun in order to establish that we are not friends, you don’t take this seriously and so i won’t take you seriously until you show me you’re worth being my rival.

you could argue ash isn’t as understanding as chloe, so rather than you know, bringing him his homework and whatnot, he just gets pissed off. HOWEVER, they actually both do the same thing: reach out, constantly, and get rejected over and over. in jn002 goh stands chloe up and then when he finally responds to her messages all he says is essentially “i’m doing something more important than that, sorry” and her reaction is “he always does this.” likewise, ash takes gary’s rival declaration seriously! every time he sees the guy, he wants to battle, to prove himself to him (that he’s worthy, that he’s better than gary thinks, etc etc). for a good 200 or so episodes, every time gary shows up, all he does is walk away from ash. barring that, making fun of him for being no good at battling, yet never actually engaging him in a battle to prove it. the first time gary actually tries to battle him is after they’ve both received eight (uh. or ten) gym badges. the first time they actually battle is way after that. and then he wins and continues to just walk away again, until pretty close to the end of the johto arc (though there’s a little more respect there).

anyway the parallel is pretty obvious. at least to me. there's something deeply wrong with them both <3 which is why then in the project mew arc, who is the one telling goh that he has to be good at teamwork? that he has to learn to cooperate with people in order to achieve his goals? obviously ash is the one who taught goh about The Meaning Of FriendshipTM, but gary occupies a unique position of actually understanding why this is a skill he needs to work on, because it's something he had to learn the hard way too.

on the other hand! ash and chloe have their own fun solidarity: world's shittiest, most emotionally repressed childhood best friend who is allergic to the word friend to begin with

#taylor.txt #*meta #i guess. LMAO #im still not there like im not shipping it. but at the very least i am more here than ever for them Bonding in general

[viola-ophelia]

TURN characters as folklore/evermore songs, because why the heck not? (lyric videos linked to each!)

abe woodhull: this is me trying 

look, i love to hate on abe, but i do think there’s some good in all his faults. he’s trying, throughout everything, to come into his own and do something for good, an admirable aim for someone so morally complex. it’s what makes him interesting to watch, and it’s what compels us to reluctantly root for him. 

anna strong: champagne problems   i’m imagining anna as the woman this song is being sung about, rather than the narrator. she’s often someone whose story gets told for her, but she has her own voice too, and she had her reasons for the hearts she broke. 

ben tallmadge: mad woman   i was initially tempted to give this song to anna, but let’s be real: ben is the angry person in the culper ring, not her. he’s constantly trying so hard to prove himself that it’s all too easy to turn that fire inward on himself. 

caleb brewster: long story short  caleb is the person who pretends he’s not living through a war until he can’t pretend anymore. but he’s also the person who picks himself back up after a fall and pushes on, and can laugh about it all in the end. 

mary woodhull: tolerate it  a bit of an obvious one, but still... ouch, i know. mary throws her whole identity into a failing relationship at the beginning, but ends up growing into her own anyway. like the song, she starts out pleading for a lost cause and ends up taking back her pride. 

john graves simcoe: no body, no crime  another obvious one haha. despite the pretty self-explanatory murder-y vibes of the song, i also think there’s a righteousness to simcoe’s character: he really believes he’s doing good, doing what he has to to defend his principles. 

abigail: mirrorball  abigail exists to please others, except she doesn’t have the option to do anything else, and therein lies the bitter unfairness of her situation. her kindness is often an obligation and not a choice, and god, i wish she could have saved some for herself.  

edmund hewlett: coney island  hewlett sustains himself on hope for so long that it’s a miracle he doesn’t snuff out when it comes crashing down. he’s left wondering where he went wrong, forced to find a new place in a world that never seemed built for him.

john andre: my tears ricochet of course the dead guy gets the song about a ghost lol. no, but really: andre is defined more by his memory than by himself, isn’t he? he tried so hard to make something out of himself, and he’s left with this legacy that belongs to the enemy, not to him. he can go anywhere he wants, just not home...  akinbode: cowboy like me  akinbode is always on the move, because he has no place to stay. but he wants more, wants to be at the helm of his own life for once: he named himself, chose his own lover, and has plans for after the war. this song feels like a love confession to abigail and also a goal of self-ownership. 

cicero: seven  we see cicero grow up along with the war, and lose his innocence along the way. he’s a boy still holding onto boyhood at first, and by the end he wants to join the cause he’s only just discovered. 

peggy shippen: illicit affairs  another obvious one, but it fits too well not to do it. peggy is ruined by her affair with andre, not just because she’s stuck in a loveless marriage with someone else, but because she knows now what consequences look like. she lost herself as she lost him, and worst of all, she did it willingly. 

george washington: epiphany  washington gets the 'indescribable horrors of war’ song because he is the war in a way, but there’s a current of hope there too. maybe horrors without hope are too great a burden for one man, or maybe america has never been without either. 

robert townsend: the lakes  the escapist, the denier, the one who never wanted any part in this: that’s robert townsend. he spends more time trying to get away from the war than he does finally accepting that he’s part of something bigger, but that understanding was there all along. otherwise, why fight it as hard as he did?  

richard woodhull: hoax  the magistrate continually defines himself by his disappointment: in his son, in his town, in everything. he makes judging his purpose as well as his profession, becoming so stuck in cynicism he just barely manages reconciliation before dying in the war that was happening all along, whether he liked it or not. 

#turn #turn: washington's spies #turn washington's spies #amc turn #turn amc #abe woodhull #abraham woodhull #anna strong #ben tallmadge #benjamin tallmadge #caleb brewster #mary woodhull #abigail turn #akinbode turn #edmund hewlett #john andre #peggy shippen #cicero turn #george washington #richard woodhull #robert townsend #john graves simcoe #simcoe #history #american revolution #amrev #taylor swift #folklore #evermore #music

[blkbonnet]

God, I really hope Stede is a giggly and affectionate drunk. Imagine a missing season one scene with him getting a little tipsy after a successful jam session, or whatever it is they’re all doing together as a crew, and joyfully kissing Ed on his cheek. Because Ed would not know what to do. (Well, he might know what he wants to do but what he’s actually going to do about it is another thing entirely.)

Part of me wants Stede to wake up the next day in horror as the memory comes flooding back. I’m talking mortification on the highest level. He’s already planning an extravagant twenty- no, forty! orange glaze apology cake before he’s even got his slippers on. (Because what else could possibly warrant such a cake. I mean, really Stede. Really.) 

But mostly I want him to awaken unnaturally refreshed (what hangover?) and have completely forgotten the innocent kiss, so he can’t understand why Ed is simultaneously staring and avoiding him. Whatever the reason though, it seems to have righted itself by the evening. So Stede thinks nothing more of it. 

Ed does nothing but think about it. He’s still thinking about it the next time they get back from a raid and Stede gleefully reaches for the rum over dinner in celebration. He panics and snatches the bottle off him, only pausing for a second before downing the entire thing. It definitely solves that problem but as the alcohol hits his system he slowly realises he’s created a whole host of brand new ones. 

Despite years of experience, Ed isn’t doing well. He reminds seated and silent, hoping no one will realise his predicament. He’s got a reputation to uphold after all. He’s fucking Blackbeard, mate. He can handle his rum! What he doesn’t take into consideration is Stede. Stede who can absolutely tell something is wrong and spends the rest of the evening glued to his side. Which is about all he remembers. Although he’s fairly sure there was a storm. The ship was tilting unbelievably. It makes him think about where he’s going to sleep. On deck might not be an option in this weather… 

“You wouldn’t even get into a hammock in this state, let alone stay in one. You can have my bed tonight. I insist.” 

The whimper that escapes him at that is worth dying over. Maybe he should take that hammock. He’d roll out of it in this storm for sure but maybe it’s best if he goes overboard. He’s never recovering from this. 

“No one’s going overboard, Ed. Not on my watch. Now here, hold on.” 

That’s all the warning he gets before Stede hauls him up and carries him toward his quarters. Ed wants to demand to be put down. He can walk! He’s… someone! He’s someone and he can walk! However, as he’s poking Stede’s arm to plead his case, he gets distracted by said arm and starts touching it in awe. He might even giggle a bit but he’s not sure everything that he’s saying inside is staying inside anymore. So you can’t prove anything. 

Before he knows it, he’s being dropped onto something soft. Soft like Stede’s robes. Stede. As the arm around him starts to retreat, he instinctively grabs hold of it and pulls it towards him. There’s an umph followed by a sudden weight on top of him and then he’s slung a leg over it without a second thought. ’Tis comfy, smells good. Soft too. It’s staying.

Ed is asleep within seconds, seemingly content now he’s snuggled up to Stede. Stede, who is rather confused but decides it’s better if he stays close by anyway, you know. Just in case he needs him in the night. He might need water. He could get sick! Yes, he thinks he’ll stay.

#our flag means death #ofmd #stede bonnet #ed teach #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #blackbeard #stede not getting hangovers is his true villain story #text #mypost