#i will not let that hate blind me to the reality that he is Objectively Miles Ahead Of Any Fucking Republican Alternative

[stirdrawsandreblaws]

screaming crying coughing up blood every time i have to fucking defend genocide joe bc ppl wanna lie and say he isn't responsible for most of the best domestic policy we've seen in decades

his foreign policy is dogshit, yes, and he should rightly be called on it and primaried out, but we can criticize the shit he's actually done wrong instead of making shit up about him ~not doing anything good~

#thinking about the keystone pipeline shutdown and how fully 2/3 of the people he appointed to legislative systems were women and poc #thinking about student debt forgiveness and rejoining the paris climate accord and unfucking some of the extreme gerrymandering #and improving COVID protections (that were roundly thrown out by corporate america which is its own concern yes but like. he's not a king) #'biden didn't fix' blah blah blah he's not a fucking dictator he can't actually do whatever he wants. the only thing the GOP lets slide #is the aforementioned dogshit foreign policy bc fuck knows every last republican loves bombing the middle east and supporting israel #(remember that the evangelical xtian death cult requires israel for the apocalypse!! that is a very real fucking thing these ppl strive for #(and evangelicals support the GOP for this very fucking reason. you cannot forget this. we are all fighting for all our goddamn lives rn) #stirring up trouble #i hate biden i hate his foreign policy i hate how ok he is with fascism i hate most of his pre-presidential voting record BUT #i will not let that hate blind me to the reality that he is Objectively Miles Ahead Of Any Fucking Republican Alternative #i still want his ass primaried out of the presidential race so hard he physically blacks out upon seeing the polling results tho #and fuck. at least the dem side seems to have a lot of good progressive downballot candidates this time around already.

[pawphin]

long ramble in tags tldr: kindness rules

#was it genocide that got them to the human world or was it her kindness and promise at the expense of her past #who was ultimately the reason the goldy pond kids were able to survive and escape #who got stabbed by a demon and was in a coma for four weeks trying to protect her newfound family #ultimately shifting his perspective on humans and hunting in general and becoming a driving force in their efforts for freedom #who became best friends with the literal ''evil blooded girl'' and was able to come up with a sound solution to demons needing human meat #in order to maintain their forms #do you think norman would be happier knowing he had to be the sacrificial lamb killing children with his bare hands and fully executing it #do you think ray would be happier if emma had simply let him die instead of giving him a firm dose of reality and helping him to #live a life full of love and support and kindness #of course she isnt perfect and i most definitely would change a lot of things if i could but this is just one of the many comments i see #when youre blinded by hatred you cant think objectively #i understand that norman went through freakish amounts of hell but to put it in my perspective: if i were a demon #i highly doubt that i would fully understand how intelligent humans truly are #you know those videos of people boiling crabs alive and saying ''it doesnt hurt them'' #there would probably be a lot of rhetoric around that nature and all i would know is eat human fingertip = go play tag #so why would my parents deserve to die? what difference is there between cattle like pigs and cows in our world to humans in theirs? #anyways. im sorry for liking stories where kindness prevails and opens doors to opportunities previously thought imaginable #i hate constantly seeing this stuff when looking up tpn and it irks me it really does

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

tags: f!reader (afab), spoilers for anime onlys

a/n: after some very popular demand, here is another makima piece (more specifically a sequel to my last fic). this is not one of those standalone sequels however, it would be best to read the prequel to best understand this one.

man is the breast, heaven is the playground (prequel)

AO3

i. ハッピーエンド

“So, how’s the married life treating you?” Himeno deviated completely from what you were initially discussing.

Perhaps ‘marriage’ wasn’t too far off from what your relationship actually was. A life-binding contract was marriage in its own right. Despite your musings, however, the truth of Makima’s identity as the Control Devil was a secret. Even if it was Himeno, you wouldn’t let that fact slip. “It’s not the married life,” you replied instead. “But yes, things are going great. Does everyone still hate me for taking away their queen?” It was quite the uproar when you both announced your departure from the Devil Hunters. Makima received more flowers than you could carry on your last day. It had been several years since then and now you were nestled in Takamatsu in Kagawa Prefecture.

You managed to find work in translation, much to the joy of your family back home. “We have to meet this girl who got you to quit,” your mother insisted, she’d hear no objections. She might have wanted you to come home to your country in general, but she was happy nonetheless you were no longer hunting devils for a living.

Himeno’s snort told you as much. “I don’t think Nanaka will ever be over it.” Himeno snickered.

“I’m glad to hear she’s still alive and kicking regardless,” you replied honestly with a chuckle of your own. Even if you had never seen eye to eye, you wished the brunette the best as Himeno mentioned setting Nanaka up on a blind date. “How’s your new partner?”

Himeno’s voice was a mixture of satisfaction and melancholy. “Aki’s great, he’s still alive after all this time. I wish he’d just settle down now. I’m hoping this new division helps with that.”

Right, Himeno mentioned something about it before. A Division composed of tamed devils and fiends, though it would be terminated should there not be any good results. “Any new additions?”

“Since last time, the Blood Fiend actually. Other than that, there’s still just the Spider Devil with the Violence and Shark Fiends.”

“Any other blessings I should know about?” What about that Angel Devil you talked about? You still keeping his discovery secret?

“None for now.” Still my best kept secret in the village I found him in.

“I see.” Good for him.

It wasn’t too long ago Himeno had sent you a coded message detailing her orders. She requested that if things about him ever came to light, you and Makima would help somehow. The redhead didn’t seem too interested in this request, but she agreed when you asked. The Angel Devil is a peaceful one, Himeno detailed in her script. He doesn’t have what it takes to kill, so I just want him to stay with the humans that brought him up. The little guy even has a girlfriend. Humans and devils living in peace might be a reality one day, I’m just not naive enough to think that’ll happen overnight. Maybe that’s what won you over now that you thought about it.

“Well,” Himeno pulled you away from your thoughts and back into your conversation. “There is a Zombie Devil I’ll be snuffing out tomorrow morning, maybe that’ll be our new member.”

You grimaced at the thought of a zombifying-devil. “Even I think that’s a terrible idea and I’m the one who decided to become a devil hunter just so I could travel.”

“You think every idea I have is terrible.” Himeno whined.

“Not every idea,” you corrected with a teasing tone. “Only most of them.” Upon turning a corner, you viewed the welcoming sight of your apartment door. “But look, I’m just getting home so I’ll talk to you later. Try not to get yourself killed tomorrow.” 

“Say ‘hi’ to the missus for me.” Himeno drawled before hanging up.

Still a maelstrom. It would always be a relief to hear from the playful devil hunter in spite of that maelstrom though. You sighed in satisfaction, reaching for your keys when the door opened on its own. 

The breeze must have drifted your scent under the door, you figured, as you welcomed the comforting sight of your girlfriend. “Welcome home, [First].” Makima greeted you warmly as you walked into her embrace. “How was your day at work?”

“Peaceful,” you pecked her cheek before kissing her lips. “How about you? Busy day again?” You weren’t the only one to find new work after your resignation from the Devil Hunters. Makima took to working at a small but popular café in the neighborhood, preparing tea and crafting baked goods. She told you before baking was merely an activity she took up to alleviate her boredom, but it had since become something she enjoyed. It was beneficial to your being as well as you happily indulged in testing prospective new items on the menu for her.

“The choux crème has been a really popular item, more people are coming in for it.” Makima replied, satisfied. You blanched at the emphasis of the dessert name and the hounding sound of heavy paws heading your way. Your reaction, sadly, was too slow as Makima’s many dogs came to greet you like clockwork.

“Maki- nooo!” You sputtered as Makima laughed gleefully at the onslaught of wet tongues and wagging tails. “Tell them to get down!”

Makima’s expression was teasing, “but they’re so happy to see you come home, see?”

You dodged another lick from Macaron with expertise. “You’re not funny, I hope you know this,” yet the grin on your face said otherwise as Makima finally got her pups to relax. I guess I’ll be washing up sooner than expected.

“Someone looks like she’s in a good mood today,” you noted as you massaged lotion onto your freshly washed face. Bagheera and Tora welcomed you home, brushing against your legs now that their larger canid roommates finished their turn. Makima moved about the kitchen, making tea. “Did something good happen while you were out?”

“Your mother called today,” Makima answered with a small but satisfied smile. You couldn’t hold back a small grin of your own at those words. That action alone would probably give your girlfriend enough happiness to last several days. To earnestly earn the love of your family and feel as if she were part of it herself, it meant more to Makima than she could ever express. “She wanted to practice her Japanese before she came here.”

“My mom called and she just wanted to practice her Japanese with you?” You implored in disbelief once you settled on the couch, Makima sitting between your legs as she drank a hot cup of chai.

Your girlfriend’s smile was an uncanny replica of the Mona Lisa. “She asked why you haven’t proposed yet.”

“Now that sounds like my mother.”

Makima took a long sip of her tea before saying anything else.  “Maybe we should be married in the human sense as well.” She set her cup down on the coffee table. “It’s the ultimate contract for humans.”

Your expression was curious. “You like the idea of marriage?”

“The idea of weddings was something I was always drawn to.” Her golden eyes had a distant look in them, her mind far beyond your comfortable living room with your many pets. Makima never went into the specifics of her childhood, but she told you enough to get the picture. She was simply one of the best kept secrets of the government; a young devil whisked off the streets of Tokyo to become a necessary evil. Concepts such as love, family and friendship were ones she learned from film and books. “The idea of binding yourself to another person for an eternity, it’s a concept I’m fond of. I wanted a big wedding.”

“I’m not opposed to a wedding,” you smiled. Marriage hadn’t been something you thought about prior to Makima. Your contract with her practically was one, all a wedding would make Makima’s integration into your family official. “I’m not sure if we have enough people in our lives to have the wedding size you’re thinking of, though.”

“I have plenty of people at the headquarters in Tokyo that would come if I asked.” Makima’s lips curved into a smile primal in nature while amusement danced in the rings of her irises. “Nanaka would for certain, she wouldn’t want to do anything to make me sad. If she’s still alive, we could extend her a personal invitation. What do you think?” At your dry look in response, your girlfriend chuckled lightly before pressing herself against your chest. “It’s a joke, I’m joking.” You decided to take her word for it. You always wondered to what extent it would be possible for Makima’s view of those who had fallen victim to her abilities as her equal. Perhaps it was one of those questions best left unanswered. “Weddings are one of those things that feel best when those in attendance truly care about the couple. I only want those people to come to our wedding.”

There was a lot of moral ambiguity that came with dating the Control Devil. Any devil really. You wondered if you were the only person in the world to do so, but you wanted to believe in the one you fell in love with.

Makima no longer relied on the fake relationships she manufactured with her abilities since your move to Takamatsu. Not for the interpersonal parodies she made to fill the loneliness inside her. She wasn’t perfect. Her first few weeks of generating business at her café were completely reliant on absolute control’s influence to bring customers in directly and through word of mouth. You were quite sure that power was how she obtained her job in the first place. 

But you’re still trying your best. “There’ll be people like that,” you cradled Makima gently as you kissed her forehead. “My family loved you before even coming over to meet you properly. More of your regulars are just normal people you just happen to talk to daily. When the time comes, lots of people will be there just because they’re your friend.”

ii. 「純愛だよ」

There would be many people that would come to the wedding for Makima’s sake, that you were sure of. Kishibe of the Devil Hunters, however, would not be one of them. This you were certain of as you recalled the day you encountered him only a month after your resignation. If not for the way he intercepted you outside of your apartment building on your way home, definitely because of his cold but calculating stare.

When the man made no move to explain what he wanted, you decided to move your piece first. Nothing about the encounter felt coincidental as you were led to a place with as few people as possible. “So what do you want?” You had seen from the ground level that Makima had opened the window and you wondered if she knew of this sudden arrival. “I’ve been busy planning a move and I want to go home, it’s my turn to cook dinner tonight.” You dangled your small bag of groceries, a few ingredients required for the dish you planned to cook.

“You can’t spare a moment to talk to an old work buddy?” In spite of his words, there was no nostalgia or yearning in his tone. Kishibe held out his box of cigarettes to which you declined before he lit a cigarette of his own. “It’s been a while after all, we haven’t talked in so long.”

“We barely talked in the first place,” you replied tersely. Besides introducing you and Makima to one another, you seldom saw the man held as one of the strongest in the Bureau. He was an enigma, a drunk enigma who still managed to do his job well. You were doubtful you’d be able to hold your own against him for long. “Hit me with that line after it’s been a few years.”

“How is Makima?” Your eyes narrowed at the sudden question. “It was quite the surprise to everyone that she resigned. I’m surprised the higher ups weren’t more insistent that she stay.”

“Cut the crap and tell me why you’re here,” you crossed your arms and you shared a knowing look. Whatever it was, you were on the same pageー both of you knew more than what you initially assumed. “What is it that you need to know so you can get out of our hair?”

“I suppose we can drop the pleasantries then,” Kishibe put out his cigarette as quickly as he lit it. “I’ve never been fond of Makima, but I could always tolerate her. Whatever inhumane deeds she committed, as long as I knew she was on humanity’s side, I could always turn the other cheek.” Tired black eyes that knew too much glanced at you piercingly. “I just find it strange that she decided to leave the Bureau to play house with a new toy.”

Your eyebrow twitched, but you held back your anger. “Because she’s the Control Devil, you mean,” you chuckled humorlessly. “Were you the one that brought her to officials? You worried that your dog got off its leash? Or is it because that dog turned on its masters?”

Infuriatingly but unsurprisingly, the man didn’t answer any of your questions. “I was worried that the Control Devil forced you into making a contract with her.”

“Makima can’t force me to do anything,” you scowled.

“Did she make you make a contract with her?” Kishibe queried. 

“That’s none of your business.” After a strong silence between you both, sighed. “It’s part of our contract,” you answered begrudgingly. It would be better to cooperate lest he decide to take action due to your insubordination. “Makima can’t use her powers on me. She couldn’t force me to do anything before anyway. I’m not sure about the specifics, neither is she. We just know she hasn’t been able to order me successfully.”

“And what does she gain from a contract like that?”

“We stay together forever,” a soft voice cut through the conversation before you could answer. Makima stood behind you in an accompaniment of caws and frantic wingbeats as crows dispersed from where she stood. You sighed in relief at her appearance, at the very least Kishibe was the only devil hunter that had come to inspect the motivations of the Control Devil. “Hello, Kishibe,” a cold smile spread across her lips as she softly nuzzled the crow perched on her forearm. “had I known you were coming, I would have made tea.”

“You don’t need to keep up appearances on my account,” the older man insisted gruffly as Makima sent her corvid on its way. “You’ve been listening since we left the apartment. You left the window open.”

The redhead seemed to take a dark thrill in this moment, “yes I suppose we don’t have to keep up those things,” she agreed fluidly. “I wanted to keep a listen out for [First] so I could greet her at the door when she came home. Anyone would worry about their beloved when a strange man intercepts them.”

I do not need a fight breaking out. Makima versus Kishibe, you worried less about the physical outcome. No, you were fearful of what the long-term consequences of this fight would be. “Makima,” you stepped between the devil and the hunter. “we finished talking, let’s go home. He got the answers he was looking for.”

Makima’s smile shifted into one warmer for you, “yes, let’s go home.” You held her hand with the one not holding groceries and gave it a squeeze, Makima squeezed back.

You glanced at Kishibe over your shoulder, “you have the answers you’re looking for,” you repeated.

It’s-

iii. ごめんな

Your wet cough tore you away from your memories. It hurt, it hurt, everything hurt. It all hurt, yet you couldn’t react beyond a weak gasp as you laid on the ground, crushed under debris. Ah, this sucks.

You get off hours early from work, and a devil decides to attack. Perhaps it was muscle memory from your devil hunting days as you absently reached for a weapon that was no longer there. It had long since been confiscated after you resigned, civilians had no need for such weapons. Yet the horrifying realization that your sword was gone, was all the devil needed before gleefully thrusting its hand through your stomach. This all sucking was truly the understatement. Where were the devil hunters patrolling the area supposed to be, stopping to get lunch?

Today was supposed to be a good day, you lamented.

Your half-day at work aligned perfectly with Makima’s off-day. You were supposed to swing by and change into something comfortable, then you’d hit the town. You recalled the dress she said she would wear. It was gonna be that white sundress she got last year, she looks so good in that. 

She was waiting for you.

That was what hurt you the most. Makima and the makeshift home you made for yourself. The two cats that slept anywhere that inconvenienced you and the seven dogs that welcomed you home rambunctiously everyday yet you were somehow still surprised when it happened. Makimaー

Your phone rang in the distance for the fifth time in the past six minutes.

I’m a terrible girlfriend, you berated yourself. You couldn’t crawl to it and your arms refused to move no matter how much you willed for your adrenaline to make a miracle happen. I’m sorry, you weeped quietly as your phone fell silent before the sharp trill of your ringtone started all over again. I’m so sorry.

You weren’t particularly religious, nor were you sure if there was a god that they would stop to listen to hear prayers for the sake of a devil. Still, you prayed. please let her be okay. I’m okay with dying as long as she’ll be okay. Don’t let this be what makes her lose hope in everything. I want her to be loved for the rest of her life.

Whether it was by your family that survived you, whether it was by the friends, whether it was by someone else who loved her beyond the controls of her abilities. Anything would be better than her being alone again.

Please.

Please.

The continuous trill of your cell phone accompanied you until your eyes closed, and your chest stopped heaving.

iv. 彦星と織姫の物語

At five years of age, you dreamed of a prince on a magnificent horse saving you from a life of despair. 

The world was unimaginable without your parents.

And you were sure you were born for a special purpose, a belief amplified by the strong feeling something was missing in your life and you needed to find it.

At thirteen years of age, you understood how the world truly  worked.

The world continued despite the loss of your parents.

There were no princes riding on magnificent horses and there wasn’t anybody who would save you from the despair-filled life you were living. 

And no one was born with a special purpose in life, not even you.

One… two… three… four… You held yourself tightly, forehead pressed against your knees as you waited for the sound of rushing footsteps to fade. It was just your luck that you ran into cops that found it more than a little suspicious that a preteen was wandering around instead of at school. They were unconvinced when you told them you were homeschooled and a kick to the shin later, you were hiding in an alley. Just a little while longer, you whispered, hugging yourself tighter. There was no prince that was going to come and save you, you realized this the moment your parents died and you were left alone in the streets of Beijing to fend for yourself. You became your own prince.

That was why you stole from merchants, that was why you picked pockets of anyone gullible enough to let their guard down.

You stood up from your crouch when you were sure the police officers were gone. You’d earned enough cash that day and something for dinner to boot. It was time to go home before you got too cocky and landed yourself in trouble. You patted your pocket with the squished meat buns in them. That would be enough to get through today.

You just needed to save. You were unsure of the amount you needed to save, but once you had enough, you would be able to get out of this place. That belief reassured you more than anything, it certainly reassured you more than the dead magpie your right foot nearly touched. Ew gross! You nearly touched another in your attempt to avoid the first. The cats would be in heaven later when they found this spot you grimly thought.

You glanced to your right, wondering if this would be a decent alley to leave into the main street when you saw a girl your age sitting with her knees bunched to her chest. You couldn’t see her face from how she was hunched over, nor did you trust her. It didn’t look like she was with anyone else, though it crossed your mind that maybe she was a decoy so you could get jumped.

You glanced over your shoulder without turning, relieved no one was standing behind you. You’d seen it happen more than once, you weren’t going to be another victim. Promptly, you turned around, more than willing to pretend you never saw the girl in the first place and exit in the opposite direction when-

Growl.

No, you told yourself sharply as you paused midstep. Giving someone else your food would be a terrible idea. She can find something for herself.

That was what you told yourself; it was what you told yourself and you still begrudgingly turned around, stomping your feet all the while when there was no one to be mad at but yourself.

“Here,” you grumbled without looking at the girl, holding your misshapen haul over her. “take it before I change my mind.” When she made no move to take the buns from your hand, you dropped them in front of her. The wrapping would keep the dirt off of them. “You’re welcome,” you sighed as you finally took your leave. Your only consolation was that she wasn’t a decoy that would lead to your ass getting kicked. There goes dinner.

When you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve, instinctively you jerked away.

You glared at the girl, ready for a fight. “Hey get off of m-,” You. Your words halted as soon as you saw her wide-eyed stare and tears. There was nothing familiar about this girl, you had never seen her before in your life. There was nothing familiar about her black hair, nor the mole under her left eye. You were sure you couldn’t say you’d ever met anyone with golden eyes with red rings in them either. There was no reason to feel like your senses had been set ablaze and the universe shifted.

You didn’t know this girl.

This girl was a stranger.

You knew this and yet you still fell to your knees as warm tears flooded your eyes without your permission. Your mind had gone blank, unable to conjure a single thought and even if you could, you doubted you would be able to voice them. So you followed instinct as it screamed at you to hold this stranger in your arms, welcomed the way she threw her arms over your shoulders in return.

An indeterminable amount of time passed while you cried in the arms of a stranger before you stood up again. 

As you wordlessly led her to your home, it vaguely crossed your mind how strange this was. It was strange that you held this girl’s hand while you crossed the street. It was strange that you led her into the abandoned apartment building you called home. It was even stranger that despite only meeting a few hours prior, you were laying with this girl on your tattered bed, holding each other like you were scared you’d disappear if you let go.

It was all strange, but something told you it would be even stranger had you ignored her in that alleyway. “By the way,” you yawned, as it dawned on you that you never once asked for your new companion’s name. “what’s your name?” 

When there was no immediate response, you thought the girl fell asleep. “Nayuta,” you finally heard the feathery light reply. Nayuta pressed herself closely to your chest, listening to your heartbeat.

“I’m [First],” you squeezed.

Nayuta squeezed back.

v.「行かないで！行かないで！行かないで！どこにもいけないで！離れないで！あたしのそばにずっといて！」支配の悪魔が叫んだ。魂が叫んだ。

You discovered Nayuta was a devil less than a month after you started living together. She did a terrible job hiding it. Considering how airheaded she could be, though, you doubted Nayuta was truly trying to keep it a secret. Still, the truth of her nature eluded you for a few weeks as you initially accepted that perhaps these things were simple coincidences.

Her eyes were unlike anyone else’s eyes you’d ever seen. (You wondered for a while if they were special contacts, but if they were, they were beyond dried and damaged considering she never took them out.)

Animals listened to her way too easily. (There was no longer any need to fight off the crows when they got too close to your meal. A simple “go away” from your companion, and they would fly off just as she commanded.)

There was the time you bore witness to something you wouldn’t have believed had you not seen it yourself. Nayuta walked up to an older woman, held out her hand and plainly demanded, “give me all your money.” Promptly, all the yuan in the woman’s wallet was placed in Nayuta’s hand.

(“That old lady just gave you all her money?” You gawked in disbelief, eyes bulging out of their sockets. “How?!”

“I told her to give it to me,” Nayuta told you plainly, like she was telling you the sky was blue. Then she told you she wanted soup dumplings and jianbing for lunch.)

As such, it was no wonder why you found yourself thinking that she was a devil. It never crossed your mind that perhaps she had another sort of trick up her sleeve. Devil was the first thing that came to your mind and the only answer you felt was right.

“Hey, Nayuta,” you asked after much contemplation, watching as she drew a dog on the dirty hardwood floor of your home. Your belly was full from eating roujiamo and candied hawthorns, purchased with money Nayuta got from a mean teenager. “are you a devil?”

Nayuta paused her ministrations, staring at her rough sketch before she nodded, “yeah.” Her revelation wasn’t a surprise in the slightest. Gold eyes stared into yours as you thought over your next question. Were you scared of her now? No, you answered your internal pondering quickly. Being scared of Nayuta felt like an inherent rejection of what made you ‘you’. You’d never be scared of her, there was nothing intimidating about a devil who wanted a large dog so she could ride atop it like it was a horse. Instead you asked, “what kind of devil are you?”

“The Control Devil,” she answered truthfully.

“Have you ever used your powers on me?”

It was like a dam suddenly broke as Nayuta’s expression suddenly changed from blasé to fearful. “I haven’t!” When did she even get in front of you? It felt like you had only blinked once before she was standing right in front of you, grabbing your hands tightly as she shook her head frantically. “I haven’t!” She repeated desperately and you almost took a step back in bewilderment. You hadn’t seen Nayuta cry since the day you first met but you could tell these tears were different.

Her tears from your first meeting were inexplicable. A visceral reaction to whatever emotion took over the both of you that day. These tears were based on fright and distress.

“Na-,” you tried consoling the girl, but panic had overtaken her completely.

“I didn’t, [First], please believe me!” Nayuta begged hysterically, her grip on your hands somehow tighter. “Don’t leave me!”

“I believe you!” Your heart felt like it was beating a million kilometers a second, but you had to convey how you felt. Nayuta looked as if she was going to cry once more, scared but hopeful.“I believe you,” you repeated softly. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

vi. 誓いの言葉

Nayuta wasn’t much of a talker.

That wasn’t to say she was timid, nor was she diffident. It was more like she was an airhead who skipped to the beat of her own drum. She did as she pleased and she said what was on her mind as it came to her mind. That was how you often ended up spending hours of your day looking for her if she suddenly ran off to find something that piqued her interest or keen sense of smell.

This time thankfully, she’d only been drawn to the display TV in front of a store. That was leagues better than the time she’d wanted to see why two cats were fighting in an alley.

You shot the girl an incredulous look, hands on your hips. “I keep telling you not to let go of my hand when we walk, you always get lost,” you scolded, more concerned than annoyed. The last thing you wanted was for Nayuta to run into devil hunters while you were separated. It was your worst fear that she would be taken from you and killed. Despite your worries, however, it didn’t always prevent instances when something would catch Nayuta’s eye and she’d let go of your hand in favor of checking out.

“[First],” Nayuta pointed at the television, completely ignoring your worry. “[First], I want one of these.”

You pursed your lips in annoyance knowing Nayuta had moved well beyond the matter at hand. At the excited look in her ringed eyes, however, you felt your annoyance fading faster than you’d like. “You want what?” You looked at the TV, wondering what grabbed her attention so much. It was a wedding, you realized after a few seconds. The wedding was western style, the bride donning a beautiful white dress. “Do you want the dress?” There was absolutely no way you’d be able to finesse a wedding dress no matter how hard you tried.

“I want the wedding.” That made you look at her even more wide-eyed than before.

“We can’t afford something like that!” You held up your hand before she could make her ridiculous suggestion. “And they won’t let two kids get married anyway, we’d have to wait until…” you honestly weren’t sure, now that you thought about it. You shook your head and Nayuta’s brow furrowed with a disgruntled pout, “anyways, we can’t have a wedding like that, it costs too much money.” When Nayuta didn’t reply, you poked her cheek. “You okay?”

Nayuta’s following grunt was neither in agreement or disagreement. When she didn’t object to you holding her hand, you held back a snort of amusement as you led the way home. It became apparent later on, when Nayuta approached you with your off-white bed sheet, however, that she had not gotten over the topic of weddings.

“It’s my veil,” Nayuta said as much when you asked why she was wearing your sheet. “I want the wedding now.”

“If you don’t put the sheet back on the bed, it’s the only one we have!” Laughter slipped through your words at the ridiculous display. But she’s still really cute. A total dork, but cute. Your hands moved to adjust her ‘veil’ more evenly on her head. You wanted to marry Nayuta when you grew up; when you had your house and weren’t living off scraps. Then her veil wouldn’t be the dirty sheet you laid on and she could wear the princess-style gown that you saw in the movie, not the dirty clothes you wore everyday. That was a long day away, you knew. It was hard enough imagining that you’d ever be somewhere better than this. “Okay,” you said warmly. “let’s have a wedding.”

Nayuta beamed, holding her head high, before she noticed the sheet slipping. You couldn’t hold back another snicker at that, “we have to say the vows first,” you instructed. “It’s where we promise each other the things we’ll do for each other once we’re married.” Your mother was fond of movies where weddings were the center of the plot, but you couldn’t recall any of the vows expressed in them. “I promise…” you began, pondering what you would say. I promise that first, I’ll get you a big house. One that has lots of dogs, well, as long as they’re cats too. We’ll have food from all over the world because we’ll have some fancy butler make it for us, and when we feel like it, we’ll go to any amusement park we want. And I’ll protect you from any devil hunter we come across.”

“I promise that I’ll be with you forever,” Nayuta followed seamlessly in your exchanging of vows. “I won’t use my powers on you. I won’t let go of your hand when we go out, because you get upset when I get lost. And I promise I’ll protect you too.”

You grinned, content. “Now we have to kiss too.” It was a quick kiss, a simple peck on the lips before you rested your forehead on hers. “And I now pronounce us wife and wife.” The imaginary audience applauded, welcoming your union in open arms.

“The people in the movie were dancing too afterwards,” Nayuta chirped after a moment.

“That’s because we’re supposed to have our first dance as a married couple afterwards,” you replied. The sheet, unfortunately, could not keep up with your dancing even if it was a slow waltz to an unknown melody you made on the spot.

“I want a real wedding this time.”

I do too. “We can get married for real when we grow up,” you vowed once more as you clumsily led each other in your dance.

Nayuta’s smile was saccharin, “promise?”

“Promise,” you repeated joyously. “it’ll be in a fancy hall with lots of people.” Not that either of you knew enough people to have even a small number of guests at your wedding. But that could change by the time you are grownups. 

vii. 旧友

The day the devil hunters came was a blur.

You weren’t sure what it was that led to their discovery of Nayuta. You could only guess in the future that it was because of the trail of people who complained that their money had been stolen and they couldn’t remember how. At the time, guessing wasn’t going to get you out of the situation you landed yourselves in.

They didn’t buy your usual excuses.

There wasn’t anywhere to run in the corner they expertly trapped you in as you ran away, believing you had been making progress in losing the one following you.

You held your arms out between, knowing full well you were a flimsy shield to someone trained to kill devils.

Nayuta fingers dug into the back of your shirt, body tense. Her abilities required she believe one was lesser than her for her to order them, that was impossible when you were both scared out of your wits cornered with nowhere to go.

The woman kept an eye on you both, weapon drawn in one hand, phone in the other. “I found the C-” were the only words she managed to get out when she suddenly collapsed, revealing the scarred old man behind her. You learned later he called himself Kishibe.

You weren’t sure if you should have felt relieved when you saw the old man, suited up as any other devil hunter would be. You didn’t like him, that much you had decided in your silent stare down. 

He released a raspy sigh, humming thoughtfully as he crushed the unconscious woman’s phone. “I came here expecting to only find one of you,” the man scratched the side of his head sluggishly. He eyed you carefully with a sense of recognition you couldn’t quite place before his eyes drifted to Nayuta beside you. “The Control Devil really is a selfish one.”

viii. マキマとナユタ

“You’re starting to look like me, Himeno.” It had been years since he’d last seen the woman and she seemed tired beyond her years. If Life played favorites, it was more than apparent Himeno was not one of that group. Aki died, succumbing to his final two years to live. The Chainsaw kid took off before then in the aftermath of the brief but chaotic attack of the Bomb Devil. Perhaps she’d been driven mad, perhaps she craved being the country mouse of Aesop’s fable. It was all the woman could do to run off with sister and the Blood Fiend, nestled in the quiet coastal town of Shonai in Yamagata Prefecture.

“It’s rude to point out a lady’s age, sir.” Himeno accepted the cigarette regardless. A large portion of her bangs were white and gray, her eye showing signs of crow’s feet. “What are you doing in little ole Shonai?” Smoke wafted from her mouth with a soft exhale.

“I started my own delivery service,” Kishibe gestured his cigarette to his car. “and you’re my first and only customer.”

Himeno’s smile was amused, but her one visible eye was anything but. “Funny, I don’t recall me or my sister ordering anything.”

“Consider this your lucky day then, it’s the delivery of a lifetime.” Kishibe didn’t miss a beat. “It’s a two-for-one deal.”

“I’ve had enough once-in-a-lifetime deals.” Himeno crushed her cigarette on the bottom of her foot before flicking it to the wayside. With more than a hint of finality, she waved and walked in the opposite direction of his vehicle.  “Whatever it is, you should keep it to-”

“It’s the new Control Devil.” Those words made Himeno stop in her tracks. “They discovered her in China, but I managed to nick her.” Just in time to thwart disaster. Makima had been a ticking time bomb that had been staved off successfully when ー appeared in her life. That timer began once again when ー was killed in an attack by the Rat Devil. If the Chinese government had disposed of your current incarnation in front of the new Control Devil, Kishibe knew that there would have been no preventing the hell that would be unleashed upon the world.

Still, it would be best for the two of you to be protected til you could properly fend for yourselves.

Himeno’s shoulder shook for a few moments, it wasn’t hard to imagine the thoughts going through her head. I can keep on walking, she possibly thought. I can pretend I didn’t hear anything. Yet human nature got the better of her, Himeno sighing shakily, “why’d you bring her to me?”

“I’m not fit to raise children and out of all my old contacts, you’re the one I trust the most to do a good job handling her.” Kishibe answered truthfully. Not even Quanxi could be relied on for such a task. As much as he trusted his unrequited love, he knew the woman would have less of an interest in raising children than she did his old advances. 

“What’s the second part of the deal?”

“Take a look in the car.”

Warily, the former devil hunter turned around, taking slow steps towards the car and leaned close to the window.

Himeno said nothing for a while as Kishibe watched her back, knowing that she was likely experiencing a strong wave of emotion. Everything likely clicked the moment she saw you. The same skin tone, the same hair texture, everything exactly the same as she remembered. “ー always knew about Makima, didn’t she.” Despite her phrasing, it was not a question. It was a soft, emotional observation. 

“This new one shouldn’t have any of Makima’s old memories, but it seems this is one attachment she can’t shake.” Perhaps this was part of their contract. Leave it to Makima to make the implausible possible. The life of a devil may have been cyclical in nature, but reincarnation among humans was unproven. Yet here you were in all your similarities to ー. Kishibe didn’t ponder what this meant for humanity. If this meant his old buddies were somewhere walking around earth as new beings.  Perhaps you were simply an exception, a product of the contract ー made with Makima. Makima did say you’d stay together forever. 

Kishibe doubted he would ever receive an answer. All he was certain was that if you were the one thing keeping the Control Devil from wreaking havoc on the world, you were a necessary piece of the puzzle.

“This one isn’t ー either, she’s [First]. She doesn’t have any memories from before.” Kishibe warned, lightly tapping Himeno’s shoulder. He didn’t need the woman to get any false hopes. ー was dead, there was no doubt about it. The age separating Himeno and yourself was succinct proof. You weren’t the friend she lost more than a decade prior. “If you really can’t handle it, I’ll figure things out.” 

Himeno’s one blue eye shone with more fire he’d seen since the last time he’d seen her. “I’m glad you feel that way,” the man tipped his proverbial hat to her. “I’ll be back when they’re old enough for defense training.”

“Hey, Gramps, where are we?” You demanded once you had woken up, rubbing your eyes tiredly. He might have saved your life, but he had kept you in the dark long enough. 

Nayuta ungraciously yawned,“I have to pee.”

The wizened man took a hard look at the pack of cigarettes in his hand before shoving it in his pocket, sighing heavily. “We’re in Shonai over in Japan.” At last, he introduced the woman next to him. “This is Himeno, she’ll be taking care of you both from now on.”

You shared a look with Nayuta, wondering if this place would really be the best for you. It beats living where we were though, you were forced to admit. A part of you would miss the room you and Nayuta called home for the longest time, where you had your wedding and where you drew on the floor when you got bored. But you planned to leave that building someday, hoping you’d be leading a better life by then. ‘Someday’ simply came faster than you expected.

Thanks, old man, you doubted you would see much of him again though as you saw his car become smaller and smaller in the distance.

“Do either of you like cartoons?” Himeno asked when it was just the three of you. “What do you like watching?” When neither of you could come up with a response, Himeno cheerily made the decision for you. “We have the complete Ashita no Nadja set at home, we can watch that when we get there. But since we’re celebrating your arrival, you have to pick dinner.”

Nayuta wasted no time in answering that question, “I want pancakes.”

You rolled your eyes, bemused. “What if I want burgers though?”

Nayuta looked at you carefully, as if she hadn’t considered the possibility. “We want burgers and pancakes,” she told Himeno a second later.

“Burgers and pancakes,” Himeno said more to herself than anyone else. “Alright, I can work with that.”

translation notes:

i. happy end ii. it’s pure love iii. sorry iv. the story of hikoboshi and orihime v. “don’t go, don’t go, don’t go! don’t go anywhere! don’t go away! stay with me forever!” the control devil shouted. her soul shouted. vi. word of oath vii. old friend viii. makima and nayuta

#look she's writing #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #makima x reader #nayuta

[leventart-den]

Interactive ZoSan fanfic. Ch.01

AN:

Hello dear Straw Hearts!

So here we begin our journey with the first chapter of the interactive ZoSan fanfic. Please remember that I am not a writer and English is not my native language. But I will try and I hope we all have fun. I have some ideas but your choices are what decide where the story goes. In the vote, you chose that our story will take place in the canonical One Piece setting. But since I have not yet seen many events and am not familiar with all the characters (I only just met Brook in the anime at the time of writing this but I happily spoiled some things for myself so I know roughly Sanji's story), my vision may conflict with canon. There may also be spoilers here, so be careful. This first chapter is just setting up the scene.

 If you prefer to read on AO3, then the first chapter is here.

This is also beta-readed by wonderful @dad-cahoon ! Thank you so much for your help!

So, without further ado, buckle up and let our journey begin!👀

***

-= My 4am Sun =-

Ch.01 "Distraction and consequences"

Sanji really thinks that Zoro will be the end of him one day. One way or the other. He's such a distraction. And he doesn't even know about it. And Sanji would never tell him. His sword work is blinding. Every time it catches the light and the glare hurts his eyes and Sanji hates it. He hates how it makes him freeze and silently demands “look at me.” 

Look at me. 

Look.

And Sanji looks.

Because he can't not.

And he stares.

Because no one really knows but Sanji loves.

He loves endlessly all the big and small things in this world that he finds beautiful. And now he loves how the 4am sun embraces the swordsman and grazes the steel of his swords. It stole the breath away from him in the same way it did on that momentous day when Zoro took a blow from Mihawk with his arms open and his gaze determined. Something shifted in him that day. Something sparkled and he treasures it still, keeps safe deep in his heart. Sanji will never admit it but Zoro became someone special to him that day. Someone he looked up to and strived to become in some way. Zoro was strong, passionate, and a man of his word. He was ready to follow his dream no matter what. Sanji was the same in some parts. Objectively speaking he was strong and passionate himself, but he always lacked self confidence. He always sought so much less of himself. Although It was always compensated for by him trying his best. And actually doing his best no matter what circumstances he was in (no, we are not talking about his weakness for women in this house). But nevertheless, Sanji was almost always blind to his own achievements. He never praised himself, even a little, and took the praise of others as if it was the biggest treasure. He never thought of himself as deserving anything good but still he dreamed of kindness and love and friendship.. 

And he always wanted to be friends with Zoro. And after all these years, he kind of thought they were. Even though from an outsider's view their friendship looked more like hatred, in reality it was just rivalry and they both loved it, at least Sanji thought Zoro liked it too. 

Sanji enjoyed their bickering and fights, he truly did. But there were times when he could get tired of it. In those moments he really wished they could have a “calm” friendship. Sanji tried from time to time to guide their relationship in that direction, but Zoro never got the message. It always ended up with sharp jokes, insults, or fights and every time Sanji–with an inner sigh–followed Zoro's lead. 

But also Zoro sometimes surprised Sanji by looking weirdly happy, or even proud when seeing the cook coming to the fight scene. It really throws Sanji off every time because he doesn't know what to think of it. It is too weird. And other times Sanji thinks that Zoro may even care for him. Like that time on the sea train when Zoro screamed at him to not go along further and wait for them because it was too dangerous. Of course it was turned into a joke in the end, but nevertheless. And if Sanji would be honest it drives him crazy every time. Every time he thinks they may have their “ordinary friendship” moment, Zoro snatched it away as fast as his swordwork. And once again Sanji sighs and goes along. Although to be fair, Sanji himself often starts the fight or bites first so he has nothing to complain about, really. Right?

Right.

So, he's completely okay with not having a normal friendship with the stupid mosshead.

It's only fair, he thinks. And dives down at the last moment, barely avoiding a killing blow from the enemy. It's a really bad idea to be distracted right now, in the middle of the battle on the deck of their ship. Sanji was actually starting to feel tired, and not only him, judging by the way others were fighting. The attack happened suddenly, late at night. A huge ship appeared as if out of nowhere, fortunately Zoro, who was on watch, quickly raised everyone. Their opponents were fast and tiring. And there were many of them. Although the entire attack was strange, as if they had a specific goal unknown to the Straw Hat Pirates. And their captain hasn't even shown up yet. They were also terribly silent, making the atmosphere of the battle sickeningly depressing and oppressive. Sanji and everyone else were used to the fact that their opponents were usually loud, demanding attention to their person, no matter how deadly, the atmosphere was almost always like a chicken coop fight. Noisy, bright and reckless. That's probably why Luffy loved these moments so much. He had a lot of fun, of course, when the situation wasn't life-threatening for his nakama. But now even their captain looked out of place. 

Suddenly, Sanji felt a long-forgotten but familiar chill running down his back. That kind of dark anxiety that cannot be explained because there is no reason for it.. But nevertheless, something inside begins to scream heart-rendingly, “run!”

And perhaps Sanji would have run, if in the next moment he had not felt a firm push of someone's palm to his back. Everything around seemed to freeze for a moment, for one painful heartbeat. The place where palm touched felt numb, but after a moment there was a tingling spreading throughout his body along with an increasing ringing in his ears. His head started to hurt. For a second he thought something had snapped inside him and a terrible heat exploded. He couldn't even scream.

He took a breath.

And blinked. 

And time seemed to rush forward again, drowning him in a cacophony of sounds

He felt confused. What just happened? Where was he? What was he doing?… Why is it so light already?

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a familiar voice next to him.

"Hey Sanji! I'm terribly hungry, can you cook something? No, not something, meat! A lot of meat!" Luffy slapped him on the shoulder as he passed by, making him step forward from the force of the impact. He shouldn't have though. Of course, their captain was many times stronger than any of them, but such a movement should not have moved Sanji so easily. He almost lost his balance. He felt shaken.

He blinked again, gritting his teeth and realizing that there was no cigarette in his mouth. He couldn't light a new one though. Not now, when his hands are shaking so much, hastily hidden in his pockets.

He looked around. Everyone went in different directions. The battle was over, they were moving away from the smoking ship of the unknown pirates behind them. Judging by the sun, it was now about eight in the morning. He lost time.

He lost time.

Sanji swallowed nervously. He should think about something else. He can't spiral  now. He can't fall apart. Not here where everyone can see him. He must be just tired... There is no reason to worry and especially no reason to give others reasons to worry. It sounded stupid even in his own head, but he has no choice but to persuade himself like this at such moments. He has a lot of practice. He just needs to hold on a little longer. 

And he will. 

He always does.

He exhaled, glad that Luffy did not wait for his answer and apparently did not notice his confusion. He will think about everything later, but now he needs to get to breakfast. Everyone is probably terribly exhausted and needs to replenish their strength. Sanji would make them the best breakfast he could. Something from rice. And not at all because the stupid Marimo loves rice dishes. Again. Sanji will never admit it, but he loves to surprise that stupid swordsman. He feels it as a small victory and grins proudly every time he sees that he likes his food.

He thought to himself as he walked to the kitchen and desperately tried to ignore the trembling which threatened to take over all of him. Nervousness was creeping through his entire body and as soon as the door to his personal temple slammed shut, hiding Sanji from prying eyes, he leaned against it wearily, hastily taking out a new cigarette and lighting it. It took him several attempts before a small flame touched the tobacco tip. He took a drag and exhaled, closing his eyes and resting the back of his head on the wooden surface.

He lost time. A few hours. What happened at that time? Has he passed out? Is he even awake now? No, no. He can't go there. He will drive himself crazy. He can't afford it. He must trust his crew. If he's passed out and it's a dream, they'll wake him up. If not, then to hell with it. Whatever happened during the lost time is not so important if no one asked him about it. 

As if in mockery, the hand mark on his back reminded him of itself with an already familiar numbness, as if someone else's palm was still touching him. It was disgusting.

"Fuck." His hand hit the wall before he even thought about what he was doing. He desperately tried to convince himself that everything was okay, but the truth is that he is scared to the guts. Sanji takes a breath and relaxes the fingers that he hadn’t noticed he had clenched into a fist.

Okay…

Okay.

Breakfast.

Taking another drag from his cigarette and exhaling through his nose, Sanji determinedly headed to the countertop, gathering the necessary ingredients as he went. After washing his hands, he took out a cutting board and a knife, forcing his hands to stop shaking, feeling the pressure in the back of his head starting to build up again. It made his ears ring disgustingly. He ignored it, clenching the cigarette between his teeth and starting to chop the vegetables. He will do what he should do. For what he became a member of this crew. Sanji would not allow himself to be a burden or a problem for this team. For his team, he corrected himself. Because he's part of it. He should not forget or deny it, even if at times he considers himself unworthy. 

His knife made the first “knock”, cutting through the vegetables and connecting with the board. 

It sounded oddly muffled.

He blinked.

Sanji watched dumbfoundedly as something was burning in a frying pan. He choked on his breath, dropping the extinguished cigarette from his mouth and hurried to turn off the heat, putting the frying pan aside. Feeling the world shift from the sudden movement, he hurried to grab the countertop to steady himself. A cold shiver ran through his body, his heart was pounding wildly, and his bones and muscles ached as if he had just taken a severe beating. Sanji sucked in a raspy breath, watching with incomprehension as dark blood dripped onto the surface of his precious kitchen, staining it. He touched his face, feeling the warm stickiness running down his lips and chin. 

This was wrong. 

He never bled out of the blue.

Sanji heard laughter coming from somewhere outside and winced. He hurried to the sink, washing the blood from his face and then wiped the countertop with a napkin, tossing it in the trash and throwing the scraps on top. 

He almost sank to the floor after that, but kept himself on his feet, making an incomprehensible quiet whining sound through his teeth, full of anger and something deeply painful. 

He felt weak. 

Again. 

He didn't understand what was happening or why. 

He will be a burden to them. 

He did not want that. 

Fucking hell. 

He didn't want it.

His eyes stung, but he took a breath. He must stop.

Breakfast.

He looked around the kitchen. Everything was ready, all that remained was to set the table.

Whatever happened to him during the lost time, his body apparently continued to work. That was good.

A small mercy.

He took another breath and lit another cigarette. His body ached, but felt calmer. It felt as if it was healing. Maybe it was. 

Okay.

He will set the table, get through breakfast and then decide what to do.

He's not weak. Not anymore. He can handle it.

Sanji felt something was torn somewhere in his body, he felt cold. He spat the blood into the sink and washed it off with water. 

He'll get through this, damn it.

.

.

.

TBC.

====================================

If you made it to the poll you probably read the chapter, so thank you for that!

It's time to decide where the story will go next! Keep in mind that some choices may lead to similar results just in a different way.

#sanji #zosan #zoro #one piece #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #sanji is not a vinsmoke #ZoSan fanfic “My 4am Sun” #Leventart interactive fanfic #sanji angst #zosan angst #zosan fanfic #mention of blood #hurt Sanji #Sanji whump #4am sun meaning will be explained #if I missed any important tags let me know

[pulaasul]

Delusions VS. Ideals.

@66thpitstop​ Your responses to my post deserve to be a post on its own because damn you seem to be confusing delusions with ideals.

First let us define both words. 

Delusion -  a false belief or judgment about external reality, held despite incontrovertible evidence to the contrary, occurring especially in mental conditions. (source: Oxford Dictionary)

Ideals -  a standard of perfection; a principle to be aimed at.  (source: Oxford Dictionary)

Now, let’s place all your responses into this post.

When people proclaim about themselves, something that they are not, then they are no different than those delusional & egotistical villains. Both Daiji & Keiwa hate reality, because it affects their egos. They're no different than the likes of Kusaka, Mitsuzane & Kaito, in that regards, even if they claim the opposite.

When I'm seeing both Daiji & Keiwa claiming that they are saving people, when the situation proves them otherwise, then yes. They're delusional. When Keiwa claims that he will revive everyone who died in the DGP, while blaming Ace's mother at the same time, what does he have? Delusions. When Daiji says that joining Giff is the only way to go, when it was already proved that humanity can fight back against him (Ultimate Revice), then he is just as delusional.

Not only that, but let me remind you a quote from Takatora to Mitsuzane : "While the others faced their futures and moved on, you clinged at where you thought you found safety, and stayed there". The same goes for both Daiji & Keiwa. They didn't want to face their futures, straightforward, but instead, they got stuck to their own made-up world, built inside their heads.

and then my response to you for your first response. which got me your responses two and three:

Where did you even get them being delusional from their characters? In fact where did you get a lot of your claims in canon? Did either Keiwa or Daiji proclaim that they will be heroes to save everyone, they just declared that they're going to save people. By your logic, Emu is a villain, Sento is a villain, heck freaking Eiji Hino and Gentaro Kisaragi are villains. "hate reality because it affects their egos?' seriously where is this coming from?

Le’ts get to your responses now.

Keiwa’s ideal was for there to be no sacrifices for happiness, and naturally he wants for those sacrifices to be brought back, so his wish becomes reviving the DGP casualties. How is that a delusion?

So when someone fails to achieve their goals for one reason or another they’re delusional now? How is that a delusion, they simply failed at what they set out to do. In militaristic terms they failed the objective.

Academically speaking they got an F, it’s like you’re saying students who did not pass are delusional people and are villains.

Or are you talking about blaming Ace’s mother?  Let’s dissect that bit, shall we? I don’t have the time or energy to make an elaborate essay on dissecting that argument so here are the bullet points.

Keiwa learns how the wish system supposedly works from two shady sources: Daichi and Kekera.

Ace learns how the wish system actually works from confirming it himself, by which Keiwa is dead at this point.

Ace shares what he learned to Michinaga.

Ace does not share what he learned to Keiwa.

Keiwa is operating on the information he got from both Kekera and Daichi.

That information being the goddess uses the lives of the casualties, as fuel to rewrite the world. (the punkjack special debunks this, and Tsumuri confirms it in 39)

How is Keiwa to know that Mitsume is not to be blamed before the events of 39? The plot doesn’t even let Keiwa process what he learned from Win about how Mitsume probably isn’t at fault.

Keiwa is half right that Mitsume is not blameless in the whole wishing system but he’s wrong to put all the blame on her.

That is not delusional, that’s just called operating blind.

Now we go to 39, the post you replied was about Keiwa’s hesitation, how exactly does his hesitation paint him as a villain, the fact that he thinks there’s no point in joining the game when the goddess cannot atone for her sins?  How does that paint him as a villain exactly? How is that delusional of him.

If Keiwa was delusional, he’d have grabbed Ace’s collars and forced him to atone for his mother’s sins, but he doesn’t because he’s not delusional, as you claim him to be.

Let’s go over Daiji quickly, I did mention that Daiji was manipulated in the post that you replied to, its curious that you left that part out, when that was the whole point of him joining Akaishi’s side. He was manipulated because his factchecker, Kagerou, is absent from his life.

In short you’re confusing the word “ideals’ with “delusions”. Keiwa is an idealistic person, not a delusional person.

thoughts @rainixdra @acequinz @narashikari

#kamen rider geats #sakurai keiwa #keiwa sakurai

[kitsunefyuu]

I noticed many takes on Yoichi and All for One relationships and think I’ll throw in my two cents. Since I am curious it mostly rambling.

All for One brain is not normal and trying to ascribe his thoughts to a normal moral compass will only make an inaccurate take. So basically what I’m going to say will sound weird or insane but it because it from the mind of someone who sees the world different.

The reason it a mid way plan is because the quirk itself originally was weak. He never cared for the users and it why he murdered them casually. Only one he hated was the second, and All Might who made it personal. Tho he definitely seemed to dislike Nana.

But it’s weird he doesn’t hate them and the quirk. Even if I think his soul a bit broken don’t you think he have enough hatred after a century?

On another note insulting someone you claim to love is common twisted method to try and keep them from leaving you.

All for One has a love/hate for his little brother. But he truly believe he loves him that wanting to possess his brother is a form of affection. He wants to have his brother back to be able to tell himself he did good. Protected his brother.

The only thing the second ever done that could have personally impacted AFO was take Yoichi. Even more so if Yoichi died while in the second care. A fact AFO would hate to acknowledge because it would be acknowledging his humanity. That he was able to rattle him.

But AFO when sees Yoichi like ACTUALLY see him in the vestige. It isn’t hate or anger it’s just… surprise.

Nor is Yoichi saying it with any hatred either. It just… Is.

Yoichi thinks it is time to end.

THIS MOMENT IS WHAT TRIGGERED THE RECALLING OF THIS MEMORY.

He is being beaten up by this quirk after seeing the image of his brother.

The emotions of course changed when the SECOND appeared.

Like he wants to scream the reminder of the reality that they are dead. Wondering why he is seeing ghost in reality and not the vestige.

He’s seeing ghosts and he hates it. A reminder of his weakness that he likely wanted to bury. All being thrown at him by this one boy, how dare they remind him of his failure? How dare Yoichi refuse to be his? How dare the second take him AWAY from him?

He’s strong, this body is strong, they are only winning because of erase.

But his hatred and contempt is NEVER directed at Yoichi. Saying things like, “If only that brat never left!”

That what I would expect a evil villain to say about someone they never cared. But he focuses only on the quirks not the people. Not their reasons or why they do it, he doesn’t see them.

He’s blind and becoming erratic after seeing ghosts.

He uses Yoichi’s name. He finally responding to the challenge of his brother trying to end him and shouts how doesn’t want it to end yet. He isn’t acknowledging anyone else BUT his brother the object of his obsession.

It’s a intense game of Hero Vs. Villain. Yoichi quirk is a prize before he goes to consume the world and say he is right. His love has turned into an obsession to control.

But makes me wonder if he thinks his family is a mistake. That he just can’t let go.

#yoly’s theories #all for one #my hero academia #all for one mha #bnha #(his brain weird. Like he loves him but like in a mentally disturbed way.) #(So wants to control him. it ain’t healthy.) #(But might be coupled with grief.)

[parcferm3]

Like all the youtubers who aren't using AI to write their scripts and are just pumping out regurgitated articles ganked from google, I've had a few hours to process this morning's news and have allowed it to digest past the 'called it' and 'love to see him back, hate to see how it played out' kneejerk reactions, and to be honest, I'm perhaps a bit less WTF than I was at six this morning when I walked into the kitchen and made my partner spit coffee onto the kitchen blind.

So Daniel Ricciardo.

Ricciardo, Daniel.

DRDRDRDRDRhmmmmmm right then.

That was quick. I was definitely in the camp that it would happen over the summer break for a few reasons, not just because of the extremely unsubtle vibes that the Red Bull camp have been throwing out all over their social media, but also because it made sense.

Do I think it's not great that DR's got a drive in an objectively even worse way than he lost his at McLaren seat? Yes. Do I think the way Nyck de Vries has been spoken about publicly by his own team is pretty damn terrible and probably hasn't helped with his confidence? Of course. It was a clear case of buyer's regret that's made everyone look pretty terrible and has probably left poor Nyck de Vries feeling not unlike DR last year.

Do I think it's a good business decision from two not-quite-separate constructors who both exist only as moving billboards, and know a good marketing dynamic when they see it? Uh. Yuh.

Why not Liam Lawson? Well... apart from not having the immediate hype and recognition of DR, I think he's destined for that seat next year. For once, Red Bull isn't going to do what they did with de Vries and almost everybody else (hopefully) and set the guy up to fail. There's a reason he wasn't in the car at the start of the season, they're biding their time until he's ready. Let him finish out the Super Formula season. It makes sense to give him a full pre-season program before putting him in the car, and they've got nothing to lose and potentially a whole lot to gain, by giving the seat to Ricciardo.

Nothing to lose:

Daniel Ricciardo is, if nothing else, a safe bet, and a benchmark for Yuki Tsunoda and for the car itself. Is there a possibility that he tanks? Sure. Maybe the brakes in the AT are even less suited to his driving style than the Mclaren's and all the lockups, prangs, and off-track shenanigans we've seen this year are down to the car more than they are the drivers, however. Even Daniel on a bad day is probably better than Nyck on a good one, and that's not me slating Nyck, that's just experience.

So Alpha Tauri gets an experienced driver who's already on the payroll to compare Yuki against, who at worst won't score points and crash the car on occasion (which is a nett 0 swap) and at best, will score points, demonstrate what the car is capable of, and potentially get them above Alpha Romeo in the constructor's championship by the time the summer break rolls around. Heck, if he does great, maybe even beyond Haas and Williams. The reality is somewhere in between, but at the moment all it would take is for a 6th and a 10th at the Hungaroring for AT to draw level with Alpha Romeo, should AR have another zero points scoring weekend (which is not outside of the realms of possibility, considering AR has only scored in 4/10 of the grands prix actually run this year), and if it's a 6th and an 8th, that pushes them level with Haas and Williams (again, provided neither score points).

A whole lot to gain? Really?

I'm going to say it. I'm gonna. It's coming. Here it comes oh my god what is it what is it?

Sergio Perez is gonna retire at the end of this year.

It's out there. There it is. I said it. Whew.

Why do I think this? IDK folks, it's just the vibes.

Vibes, along with things like Christian Horner's joke about Perez 'making babies' at Silverstone this past weekend, which definitely pushed this theory along a bit. Not necessarily in a 'he's made rumblings about more kids' kind of way (although like, sure, possibly, whatever), but a 'is this a hint that family is on the guy's mind a lot more' kind of way. And Checo himself has said 'as long as I'm enjoying it' which he just... really doesn't seem like he is at the moment.

And the, y'know. It's a loan. Very specific there on your press release, Red Bull.

But then some part of me thinks this was always sort of at least part of the plan right from when DR was announced as third driver in the first place. Nothing set in stone, but paths being laid out and options being put on the table not just for Red Bull as a whole, but also for Perez.

(Sidenote, I actually don't think de Vries was pushed two races out from the summer break, I think he asked to go so he didn't have to endure any more of toll that the RB meat grinder was taking on him. Please set me free, I'll even leave without you paying me out for the rest of the season I just want to get out of here good lord. But that's a whole 'nother story and again, just vibes.)

Every. Single. Interview. With Daniel Ricciardo, he's made it very clear he intends to be in that Red Bull seat next year. I'm not digging through the bin for all the ticket stubs, you've read them already.

Once DR's got a few races under his belt and has (optomistically) proven that he's capable of getting a few points in what we currently assume is the worst car on the grid, they'll give Checo the green light to chuck it in.

The thing about Ricciardo, is he's a known entity. He's been Max's team mate before and understands the dynamic. He wasn't prepared to be number two last time, but this time rather than a young talented upstart coming in to usurp his position in what's already his team, he's coming in with his eyes wide open, a focus on team results rather than individual. He'll know his job is to be the classic wingman a la Barrichello/Bottas/Webber etc etc because it's obvious and it'd be stupid to think otherwise, because Max really is just that good.

And as much as I root for Yuki, I just don't see him in that second seat right now. They want a solid, steady, reliable presence, who won't collapse under the pressure of being Max Verstappen's teammate, and at the moment, the best person for that job is probably Daniel Ricciardo.

#daniel ricciardo #f1 #formula 1 #f1blr #red bull racing #nyck de vries #yuki tsunoda #sergio perez #max verstappen #red bull drama factory

[kissmetwicekissmedeadly]

😍😘💕🌟🖋💞💗 Hello honey Can I have these for the OC game and please feel free to ask as many as you like for ikepri or ikevamp, else I will answer for both XD

Have a wonderful day 🥰🥰💟💟🤗

You mean for the self-ship game?? I WAS SO CLOSE TO BELIEVING I REBLOGGED THE WRONG THING KJHKJKJKJ ILY JULIE THANK YOU!!! THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME RAMBLE

for me and napo ofc:

😍: Name your three favorite things about your f/o

only THREE I CANT DO THIS AAAAAAA let's see... Im going to say his compassion, his courage and his wit 🙈

😘: What’s your f/o’s favorite thing about YOU?

WHAT IS IT??? I DON'T KNOOOOW i guess i can cheat this one by looking at ikevamp mc in his route/story events and the ways we're similar and looking at what napo says he loves. hm. i guess he might find it adorable when im clumsy or when im trying to one-up him in expressing our love for each other ...........or when i share his values?? this is hard....

💕: Who’s the clingier one in the relationship?

him. no it's me. no it's him. no....

it has to be him!!! every time mc is swept away doing stuff for ppl he's all >:( - you know the expression, right? - and wants to drag her to his room and steal her attention all for himself.......i'd be clingy too but. he's equally as busy and i'd hate annoying him for attention....aaaaa.....

🌟: Who’s the tease in the relationship?

it's him. period. he's a bastard that has a good understanding of people and uses that to his advantage in his harmful, teasing little ways of driving you crazy and needy for him. he does it all, from simple things such as raising an object high over your head so you can't reach it to hitting you right in that one blind spot of your psyche that would make it feel so good to be honest with yourself when you refuse to say what you need out loud...

🖋: Who writes the other sappy poetry/cheesy love songs?

have you SEEN his stupid little self-insert love novel. he's cheesy!! he's all cheese!! have you seen his ingame LETTERS?? have you seen the scene where (well he lied but the intention is there) HE MAKES "PORTRAIT OF A SLEEPING NUNUCHE" ? he strikes me as a person who really wants to put his feelings into some creative form and gift it to his lover. which is good because, turns out im the same way *looks at my art and fics and playlists and*

💞: How do you both express affection?

acts of service and quality time are our mutual love languages!! in reality it would be hard for me to really express myself with my creative hobbies like i do now, so i imagine i'd rely on showing my love in other ways...such as doing things with him, paying attention to the things he loves doing and exploring new things with him, helping him out with whatever he needs help for if im capable, physical touch, giving him stuff that reminds me of him like song recs... as for him? i think pretty much the same, he's the type of person that wants to see you glow and meet your goals so he'll do his best to show you how much he wishes that for you and does his best to help you along the way!

💗: How do you two like to cuddle?

IN BED!! spooning so i can't escape unless he lets go.....

ASK ME MORE!!

#aaaa im so shy now..... #ask game

[moodr1ng]

a funny thing ive been thinking abt recently is.. as a crazyperson dealing with delusions, the one thing that best lets me manage them is not "convince myself that its not real" (i cant actually just turn off my psychosis :/) but saying "it IS real, this IS true, but only in my reality".

like, idk whether or not "objective reality" is a real thing and im sooo not interested in finding out, but i do know there is a... communal reality? one which is based on things which are observable to anyone, and which impact and are impacted by multiple people. so if thats our basis, the communal reality, then one might consider the idea of an individual reality; one where a person may observe, be impacted by, and impact things which are inobservable to anyone else, and which no one else can interact with directly. the observability and impact of what is being perceived by the person is undeniable to them, but it is very much deniable by anyone else, because its not true in the communal reality.

the crucial part of this, to me, is that if i use this framework, the only course of action that makes sense is to determine that i should avoid doing anything that would negatively impact people, things, or myself in the communal reality based on anything i observe solely in my individual reality. those things are not in the communal reality, so i have like, a sort of moral and also just rational duty to consider them fully irrelevant to the communal reality and to act accordingly.

like, ok, sometimes i become very aware (more than usual) that theres a woman on my balcony at night, and shes looking through my bedroom window and trying to get in, and some nights im so afraid of her that i lock my bedroom door and close the metal blinds all the way and sleep with the lights on. the woman on the balcony is very real... in my individual reality. but thats kind of the reality im in! so shes very real to me!

but, i know, shes not real to anyone else. so i shouldnt do dumb shit based on her being there. i know she cant impact the communal reality (my roommate isnt in danger, etc), so... its kinda fine that shes here?

she is scary and she does want to hurt me and im scared of her and i hate her and wish she would leave. and some nights i need to do my lil 'lockdown procedures' to get away from her, and it fucking sucks, and thats a very real shitty experience.

but, well, once i am able to recognize that shes not real to other people, then she can just be something i observe. i recognize that her reach is limited; that she cant hurt me or anyone else in any meaningful way; eventually, on most days she becomes background noise. eventually, me and them, in our pocket reality no one else experiences, i start to accept them a bit. if the lady could hurt me she would have by now - and i do think the lady on the balcony is also the 'witch behind the curtains' from my childhood, so.. she's had plenty of time.

she cant really hurt me. shes just trying to spook me. shes like these actors in walk-through haunted houses who are behind cages or fences - grabbing towards the audience, putting on a big show of how scary they are.. ultimately, theyre actors in a cage, still. the woman on the balcony is like that. scaring me is the only thing she actually can do; there is no true threat, because the cage of common reality will always hold her at arms length. and sure, shes really, really good at scaring me. and i really dont like it! but i can go through it and remind myself that its all an act. a haunted house tour i didnt sign up for, sure, but none of the actors are allowed to touch me. they cant affect the common reality.

like thats been p dope? im never gonna manage to believe that its "just not real". but i can manage "its real for me and nobody else". and that makes it bearable.

i talk to the man on the ceiling now, sometimes. when i leave my room in the dark i dont turn on the light - and i have always turned on the lights! - and i talk to him. i know hes there. and for years i checked the ceiling at night, compulsively, to make sure he wasnt there. he doesnt want me to see him, right, so i had to keep checking because that way he had to remain hidden and couldnt get close to me.

now i go sit in a completely dark, closed room and i say "hey man, hows it going up there", and hes there on the ceiling, of course, but i dont check now, to be polite (if hes that committed to hiding then clearly its nicer to not look for him!). i tell him about my day a bit. he doesnt respond, obviously, but also id really hate it if he did, so its all good with me. i picture his weird, blank head hanging down from the ceiling, his featureless face hovering just above me, watching me while im blinded by the darkness.

and those are the thoughts ive tried very, very hard to avoid having for so many years! i got into a habit of ig.. very intensely thinking the lyrics of a song while going through my apartment at night, doing the choreographed circuit of turning the lights off and on to make sure i was never in the dark, because if i let my thoughts slip for just a second id think about the ceiling man right behind me, and thatd freak me out.

just sitting there in the complete darkness, knowing hes so close, listening to me talk to him? not so long ago i wouldve had a panic attack about it. but its ok. because the ceiling man cant hurt me, either. and probably isnt even trying to.

i thought about it more, and i realized that while i know the woman is trying to hurt me - shes purposeful about scaring me - the ceiling man has never really been antagonistic. he follows me around, but moreso in the way an animal would follow some strange smaller animal out of curiosity. hes not really trying to do anything to me. hes just here. thats not his fault. hes stuck with me too! so, im chill with him now i guess.

like, seriously.. just saying "the paranoia entities are real actually, but just for me" has actually really really really helped. i wish i hadnt spent all this time thinking and being told that getting better meant no longer having delusions. like, sure, thatd be great!!!! but i cant just turn them off. and theres no treatment that can just 100% make psychosis go away. so, most likely, im still gonna have delusions, and, most likely, i will for the rest of my life, and possibly itll worsen with age. its not realistic to just think "the only real option here is to convince myself that my experiences are fake". what, like im smarter than my own brain? my brains not gonna let me think this isnt real. its making it up in the first place!! so yeah. whatever! it is real. so now i can focus on "whats the best course of action to take when i have (x) experience, while remembering that it cannot infringe upon other peoples reality?", and as it turns out theres a lot more i can do while working within the delusion. damn.

#long post #very long post #ok im shoving in a readmore bc this is absurdly long and everyone gonna be mad #psychosis inducing #paranoia inducing #unreality #psychosis trigger #uhhh #unreality tw #yeah im gonna have to say i think thats enough tags? idk any other ones #anyway sorry for long ass post just wanted to blog. lol. and yes yes im high again...

[universitypenguin]

Steve Rogers - Sex Headcanon

Warnings: Smut, Light bondage, NSFW, 18+

Word Count: Too long, as usual.

First of all, Steve Rogers loves sex. 

He’s a bit touch starved after waiting for the right woman, but when he finds you and things move into the physical affection stage, he’s all over you.

During sex, Steve loves that he can pick you up with little effort

He likes doing it against the wall

Standing, almost any position

Likes that he can hold your hips still even when you start to squirm when he hits the right spots

In general, holding onto your hips, your butt, and even when he gets to curl his hands around to grasp your inner thighs, Steve is thrilled. Captain America is an ass man.

He loves your legs too, though.

Likes to pin you down for prone bone.

He hates to admit how much using his strength against you turns him on.

But you love it too and when he realizes that you like the same positions he does, it gets more intense.

Like, he’ll pick you up while he’s standing and lift you to his shoulders, draping your legs over his shoulders to eat you out.

When Steve learns that you not only can orgasm multiple times, but that you enjoy it, he starts to let go a bit more.

At first he was careful in bed. He kept things slow and gentle, not being entirely sure of his strength. But once he gets comfortable…

He goes feral

It starts when you ask him to tie you up. The idea is only familiar to him from Tony and Thor’s jokes about 50 Shades of Gray.

Steve hates 50 Shades of Gray. He thinks Christian is an ass who doesn’t respect women.

But back to the topic: bondage. He’s willing to hear you out about why you want that. And eventually, he says yes.

The conversation about bondage goes like this:

You’ve never done bondage before. Despite having several past relationships and experiences, you’ve never trusted a man like that. Erotica tastes aside, reality is a beast of its own.

And without the feeling of complete safety that Steve Rogers inspires in your heart, you won’t have even brought it up.

But you trust him without reservations.

The idea of bondage for you is totally psychological. To have your hands restrained and be blind folded takes the pressure off of you. Sometimes your mind starts going during sex and it ruins your enjoyment.

It’s not like you’re thinking about the groceries or anything, just that you start planning your next move. Should you kiss him now, or do you need to moan louder? Does your moaning sound like a dying cat? Maybe you should keep it down.

So the blind fold is important.

And you don’t want to be able to move because you’d try to plan that too. Sometimes you put a lot of pressure on situations to be perfect. Perfect because you made it perfect, you mean. Your expectations are of yourself.

This is one reason you hate not being able to achieve orgasm. That matters to Steve a lot and he always but your pleasure first. The man is selfless and sweet. And when your mind decides to shut down the orgasm buttons, you hate disappointing him.

Steve is sold on the idea of bondage once he understands that it’s only an option because you feel safe with him. And he likes being the only person you’d trust to be this vulnerable with. All the 50 Shades objections vanish for him once you explain that part.

When you tell him that your struggles orgasming sometimes are from your own pressures to be good in bed, he gets it.

He loves that about you, your desire to please him and make things good. It motivates him to accept the offer of bondage.

Because it makes perfect sense that being forced to be the recipient and having control stripped away would fix that for you.

Steve says that you’ll have to let him make the plan. Which is *so* Steve Rogers it’s almost funny.

On a random Tuesday you get dinner with a friend and come home late. The lights are off which is weird because you expected Steve to be home. When you step inside you call out for him but no reply. Kicking off your shoes you wander to the kitchen and when you reach for the light switch, a hand grabs your wrist.

You give a small scream as a body presses you into the wall. Then you recognize the feel and the scent of his aftershave.

Steve has you pinned to the wall, wrists on either side of your head, feet spread apart and his big body caging you in.

It’s happening. It’s so happening. And you feel thrilled and scared and outrageously excited.

He’s excited too, you can feel it pressing into your back. The man’s been planning and fantasizing, clearly.

“Do you still want this, honey?”

His first words to you are the reason that you want this. It warms your heart at the same time your panties are growing wet.

“Yes, Steve. So much. Please.”

He rolls his hips, pressing his body against you and you can’t control the moan that passes your lips.

“Red means we stop. Yellow is slow down. If I’m going to do something that I think you need to consent to, I’ll ask ‘is this okay?’ and you’re going to say “Green” if you want it. Understand?

“Pick a safe word, doll.”

Eagle is your safe word. Your mind just liked the whole patriotic motif, you supposed.

Once the ground rules are laid out, Steve turns you around and with a tap on the curve of your ass, signals you to jump up.

With your legs around his waist and arms curled around his neck, he carried you upstairs to the bed.

Blindfold goes on first. Then cuffs that are lined with something soft that feels like shearling.

You know without asking that he picked them because he thought handcuffs would be too aggressive. Again, your heart flips.

“I’m going to push you, baby. I want you to wring every bit of enjoyment you can out of this. I’m going to make you come hard. You with me on that?”

You’re with him. You’ve waited a long time to try this.

“I have a plan for aftercare too,” he says.

And that’s your first hint that he’s about to go feral on you like he sometimes does when he’s keyed up from a mission.

Steve Rogers has freaking stamina for days. The man could kill you with sex if he wanted to.

(His sex drive is high… all that waiting for the right girl makes a man horny)

He undoes the halter tie of your dress and pull it down, slipping it over your legs.

He uses his mouth first. And it’s frustrating that he left your panties on. 

(The outfit was something he’d suggested. You’d thought he just liked the sundress and had been complimented when he’d said you’d look great in it today. Now it was clear he’d been planning all day. Probably longer.)

He’s been planning since the night you told him two weeks ago. Before the conversation was even over. You felt safe enough with him to ask for such a private and vulnerable fantasy and that turned him on in a mental way he can’t even explain.

So he starts by teasing you.

He kisses your mouth, slow and sensual. His tongue flicks against yours but never quite for as long as you’d like. And he knows how you like it by this point in the relationship. So you’re well aware he’s teasing you.

His mouth begins to wander to your neck and he laps at the sensitive spot. Your thighs clench in response. You’re soaked now, so wet it’s a little bit embarrassing.

He finally finds your breast with his mouth, taking an aching bud in his mouth and drawing on it. Softly. Gently. Lapping and teasing without the friction you needed to enjoy it.

Your breath came in pants now and you spread your legs to open yourself to encourage him to continue. Because there’s somewhere else that really needs attention.

Instead he turns to the other breast and gives it the same attention. Slower. And softer. Stroking with his tongue until your nipple was painfully tight.

His hand trailed up to cup the breast he wasn’t sucking on. The pad of his thumb made teasing circles and you moaned, arching your back into his mouth.

He chuckled and released the aching bud with a pop. Fingertips swirled the nipple he’d just abandoned, coating it with his saliva. He pinch it just right and your hips jerked.

Arousal was a living breathing thing inside your body now, clawing at your lower belly, turning breath into unsteady pants.

“How are you doing, baby?”

The bastard knew you were dying. Sweat was starting to burst from your pores. Your entire body was hot with need.

“Please, Steve…”

“Mmmhh? What do you need, doll?”

“I need your to touch me.”

“Where?”

“My pussy. I’m so wet for you, please touch me. Get inside of me.”

He purred. This was the moment you realized that you’d created a monster. Because he was getting off on the power play.

(This wasn’t actually when the monster was officially created. No, that would be later when you were done and he got to see your dazed face and tear filled eyes from the magnitude of what he’d drawn your body.)

He let go of the nipple and flattened his palm on your ribs, sliding it down inch by inch until he paused on your low belly.

He toyed with the band of your panties.

“You’re wet for me? Does this needy pussy want my fingers or my mouth?”

“Both!!”

He laughed again. But he went ahead, so it was worth it.

And heaven help you, there were fireworks. The bondage was working wonders for your mental need to be out of control. But Steve took it higher when he forced your legs wide and pinned them to the mattress.

And while spin class workouts did amazing things for your thighs, nothing topped super soldier strength. You were stuck. Legs pushed flat to the bed, hands cuffed to the head board and nothing stopping the extremity turned on man with his head between your legs.

He lied about giving your his mouth and fingers. At first he only used his mouth on your clit, licking around it, touching the tip of his tongue over it in slow flicks, then finally, finally, sucking.

Your body seized at the shock of pleasure, white hot and raw jerking through nerve endings frayed from lack of fulfillment.

He knew what pitch he needed to hear you moan at before he added his fingers.

He knew it because Steve Rogers is a man who studies all the angles of a situation and knows his enemy. Or in this case, knows his lover.

He rubs at your G-spot with the pad of his finger and you scream.

Your head falls back on the pillow and tears start to flow because it’s not enough.

“More, oh, please. Steve, I need-“

He growls. “I know what you need, babydoll. And I’ll give it to you when you’re a good girl and you hold back that orgasm for me. I don’t want you to come yet. Don’t you dare come. If you do I’m going to have to take you over my knee.”

Just the idea of him spanking you almost makes you lose it.

He backs off the intensity. And you start to sob from the brutal frustration of being taken so high and left without release.

His name begins to fall from your lips like a litany, as you start to beg.

“Steve! Please, I want to come!”

“Not yet. Hold back. You be my good girl and hold back. I don’t want to spank that sweet behind until it’s red, but I’ll do it.”

Your scream is gargled by a wave of pleasure that makes your whole body roll as it rips through you from head to toe.

“Let me come, damn it!”

Smack. He’s light and there’s a sting on your right inner thigh.

“Hold. It. Back!”

Screams become sobs. You can’t hold still. You’re fighting the restraints and trying to move but he’s not allowing it. All you can do is clench around his fingers and cry.

“Come for me, baby.”

Release floods you in a second when he gives permission.

The cord of tension snaps. Your muscles lock. The scream you felt building is nowhere to be found. Your voice disappears in the violence of the orgasm. It’s totally silent as your body takes control.

Your channel clamps down around his fingers. The orgasm pulses through your body like being set on fire.

Then you scream. And the muscles that had gone stiff suddenly quiver with release.

If Steve hadn’t held you down through it you’d have been snapping your hips and arching into the sensations, away from them.

He keeps going, pushing you through it until the orgasm is finished.

Then you cry.

Honestly crying, because of the intensity of the release.

You’d expected to get off. You hadn’t guessed that you would get obliterated by the world’s most intense orgasm.

Steve immediately crawls up and takes off the blind fold.

“It’s okay, doll. I’m here. You’re okay, you’re safe. Hold on to me.”

You move, trying to reciprocate when his arms go around you, but they’re still cuffed.

This makes you cry harder.

Steve rips them open, letting you free.

And then you’re in his arms and you can cry properly.

He rolls over with you in his arms, one arm tight around your waist, the other cupping the back of your head.

What shocks you is that he’s not nervous, apologizing, or asking if you’re hurt. He’s petting you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

“It’s okay, baby. Let it out. I’m right here, not goin’ anywhere. Hold on to me, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

The warm hand moving over your back is a delicious comfort. Almost as good as being held to the strong chest by arms thicker than most people’s legs.

When the storm of emotions passes, you blink up as Steve, a bit confused.

His smile is gentle and his eyes are filled with warmth.

“I did my research. You came down from that hard, didn’t you?”

Your answering “yeah,” is slurred.

He kisses your forehead. If you weren’t already boneless from your release, that would have finished you off.

“You were such a good girl for me. I can’t wait to do this again.”

With a tired smile you arch an eyebrow.

“But we can’t be done. I haven’t had you inside of me yet, soldier.”

Steve’s eyes go wide at the remark and you smirk.

“I still need you to fuck me, baby. I need to feel you finish on top of me and collapse into my arms. Please.”

You said please. And if he didn’t get assist a lady who needed his help, what kind of a hero was he?

#steve rogers #captain america #headcanon #smut #steve rogers smut #avengers #lemon #lemon rambles #chris evans #reader #steve rodgers x reader

[ayamturd]

end│dreamwastaken

summary: dream was once your everything that you would do anything for; what happens when you finally confront the reality of his manipulation and sadistic destruction?

prompt: “we’re both at fault here, and now we both have to pay the price.” 

warnings: descriptive manipulation, a single curse word, angst

pairing: in-game c!dream

a/n: this is my entry for @sleepysoupi​‘s 1.8k event! it goes without saying how late i am considering she’s currently working on her 2.0k event, but still a huge congratulatory to her amazing success and obvious, well deserved recognition <33 we love soupi in this household, nothing less of the fact *^*

also i know the prison doesn’t work exactly like how i wrote it, but let’s pretend for the sake of this fic

wc: (1.6k) - m.list

“Don’t do this, y/n.”

The air was sticky and heavy. As the lava bubbled behind you, it felt as if the heat could reach out and smother you entirely; the subtle warmth that felt insufferably suffocating in the tight space was a large contrast to the dark, opaque walls. 

Although you stood in front of him by your own desire, habits quickly fell to place as he stood proudly above you. Chin raised, Dream’s shoulders were relaxed while he spoke to you. His words were firm, and with clenched fists, you swallowed harshly from his mocking tone. 

You could practically hear his condescending grin without looking in how belittling he addressed you, and you hated how familiar the speech was. 

“After all I’ve done for you, and you want to throw it all away?”

Despite all attempts, you unconsciously bowed your head down. Whether in unjustified guilt or the internal rage from his lies, you couldn’t say yourself. He noticed nonetheless, and played into your vulnerability further. 

He was the one defenseless in this scenario, yet he held all the power in the small cage between the two of you. 

“We made promises! ‘Till the very end, right?!” He began to raise his voice and feigned some form of heartbreak, taking a step dangerously closer to you while you stood there in frozen fear.

Staring harshly down at your feet, the weight of gravity pulled at your tears as they trickled down sparsely. This was different than when you originally confronted him mere hours ago. Here, you were alone and with no backing, no one to reassure you that you did the right thing. That he was a monster that had you blinded for so long.

That you were justified for betraying Dream. 

“Don’t play stupid with me now. You can’t act like I did this all alone. That I’m not the only sick fuck in the room who enjoys the-”

“Stop it,” you whispered with closed eyes. While your voice was small, it echoed so loudly and threw Dream off guard. He shook his head and with a dark chuckle, sneered disparagingly. 

“You really th-”

Your eyes opened as you unexpectedly interrupted him.

“No. For once in my life, I mean it. Shut your egotistical mouth for one goddamn second.”

Everything was in a frozen stand still as you snapped. 

Course tears ran steadily down your cheeks, yet your eyes held more strength than Dream could had ever perceived in that moment. It had been so long since you had lost your voice. Lost your confidence, your fire that drew him in in the first place. It had been so long since you felt like yourself again, the person you once were before he teared you down completely to his mercy. 

You swallowed sternly in exposed anxiety; when was the last time you saw his face like this? Saw his face at all, at that. 

The molten lava radiated the room, it being the main source of light in contrast to the faint glow of the lanterns built into the walls. When you had originally requested to see him one final time before he was officially locked away for good, you had no idea what you expected to see. You didn’t see anything, actually, since you couldn’t bring yourself to try and meet his eye line the entire time. 

Until now. 

As the magma shaded the room in a warm shine, his dull eyes gleamed a faded hue of ash green. His dirty blond hair was visible without his signature hoodie, his previous clothes stripped away and replaced with an attired uniform instead. He hid behind a mask for so long, it was surreal to see him as something so mundane and human.

Your mouth felt so dry from seeing him again. He almost looked like when you first laid eyes on him, that beautiful day when you thought you had fallen in love. How nice the sun felt, and how crisp the wind blew. The summer day was fresh and the sweet smell of honey pervaded the air. To think it was by mere chance he approached you in the white flower field, hidden in the depths of the forest with a charming smile and gentle hand.

How cruel reality liked to play with you and give you false hope that such love could truly exist. 

The memory brought a smoldering rage that made your heart race in return. Back straight, you dared a step towards him with a quiet, yet firm declaration. 

“I’m done making excuses for your lies. For your actions, for the hurt you cause, for you.”

Dream could barely register your words as you continued in growing fury. It was like the floodgates were open and you felt free to speak your truth. 

You were riding this new found wave and would hold nothing back anymore. 

“I let you get away with so much because I truly believed that I loved you. That my love could fix you, or change what you are.”

You stepped forward again, your finger shakily pointed at him. His mouth opened to respond but you spoke before he could try. You weren’t going to give him anything, you thought, he doesn’t deserve your silence.

“I went against everything I believed!” you suddenly yelled, “everything I stood for, everything I thought because of you!”

Your vision was a blur as your raw emotions came loose. You screamed from the top of your lungs to the point where your voice cracked with a head lifted high. 

“I let people get hurt! People I love and care for because I prioritized you over everything I had!”

Another step forward, your voice shook with quivered lips as a result of an ached and long scorned heart.

“To think I used to be so proud to say it, to say you were my everything and my world.” With a trembled exhale, you gathered yourself before finishing your thought. “Maybe I am stupid, but trust me when I say my ignorance was your freedom and my considered love a blind devotion.”

Dream’s face softened considerably, for he was at a loss for words and didn’t have anything to probe at anymore. It was his turn to suffer in a lost acceptance.

“I…”

Shaking your head, you scoffed with your head tilted in disbelief. Smiling darkly, you knew then and there you regained the power of the room and your self-assurance over him. How the turn tables.

“Funny how things change when you have no where to run. When you’re the one helpless and reliant.”

Standing strong with your arms crossed, you stared at him with such distaste. Dream’s brows furrowed with a clench jaw as he stepped even closer to you. He was now mere inches away and glared down at you from his given height. Even then, you wouldn’t back down any longer.

“I do love you, y/n. Everything I did, I did for us. You can’t leave me like this.” He gazed down with such intensity that your past you would have wanted to say something just to appease him entirely; you weren’t that person anymore, and you wouldn’t let him drag you down more than he already has. 

Dropping yours arms before stepping back, you messaged Sam without wavering your eye contact from him. 

“We’re both at fault here, and now we both have to pay the price of it alone.”

The sounded mechanics from outside the box indicated the lava dropping, signifying the end of your visit. Dream grew agitated at the thought of you leaving and dropped his eyes down in resent, a huge contrast to your relaxed and calm state. 

You moved backwards until your back threatened to be burned by the heat. 

“Here’s to loosing all those attachments you mentioned.”

Dream’s head snapped up from your words, but before he could attempt anything further, the Netherite divider rose and separated you both. The lava parted as you approached the platform, Sam visible from across the entrapping moat. He watched closely in regard to your safety and anything Dream might try with your back currently turned. 

Approaching the stone platform once deemed safe, you turned to face him a final time as the contraption slowly pulled you away. Your chin was raised, and your tears were dry in satisfaction to your found closure.

“You were right,” you affirmed, “we did make promises, and this is our end.”

Bonus:

Tommy had been tormenting Dream for the past few minutes or so, his obnoxious taunts a sign of recovery from all the trauma he had dealt with from his young age. He hid behind his humor, but was strong when confronting his abuser with no uncertainty then. 

“Who do you miss the most?”

Dream paused from fiddling with the leather of the book covers from the simple question. His hand began to curl around the thick material, and he drowned out Tommy’s rambling from behind him.

A familiar scent filled his senses, an old and precious memory uncovered from the oppressed depths of his mind. He pulled the book in hand open to a random, but intentional page, his callous fingers tracing over the stained ink.

He wasn’t an artist, and it easily would have been passed for messy, nonsense doodles, yet the drawing practically burned the paper as a reminder of his failed objectives.

The innocent azure bluets insulted him despite being his own creation.

Dream was done playing into Tommy’s confidence, and spoke lowly as his head turned further away from the boy.

“… I think you should go, Tommy."

#dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken x you #dream x reader #dream x you #dream x gn!reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #dreamwastaken x gn!reader #dreamwastaken imagine #dsmp x reader #sleepysoupi 1.8k writing event

[hanatiny]

[4:04] Heart Not Found

a/n // disclaimer: I’d like to make it clear that I neither condone nor endorse any of the behavior described in this fic. Each of the characters acknowledges that it is beyond unacceptable and unjustified; this is merely meant to be an experimental look at the psychological processes within a yandere’s mind. Furthermore, this work is purely fictional and I do not claim to personally know exactly how any of the ateez members behave.

a/n: If there’s anything potentially triggering that I have forgotten to list in the warnings, please let me know and I’ll fix my mistake asap!! thank you <3

pairing: yandere!San x genderneutral!reader x pianist!boyfriend!Hongjoong

genre: angst

word count: 2602

warnings: non-idol AU, murder, descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood and death, mentions of knives, San is highly obsessive in this, he threatens the reader but doesn’t actually hurt them, kidnapping, trespassing, swearing, I did my best to keep the violence as vague as possible

-----

It was around 3am and you had yet to return home, and to say San was unnerved about this fact would be a massive understatement.

It wasn’t unusual for you to get home when it was already dark outside but it was never after midnight, much less in the early morning hours it was approaching now.

San tapped his fingers against the glass of his window anxiously as he watched the streets below attentively. You had turned off your phone a while ago, or at least that was the conclusion he drew after he stopped getting a signal from the tracker he had secretly managed to install on your phone.

3:12... why weren't you home yet?

His jaw went tense when he finally caught sight of you a few excruciatingly long minutes later, and he absolutely fumed as he saw you holding hands with another man he had never seen before in his life- he paused.

He did recognize the man, as none other than the pianist Kim Hongjoong who had been gaining quite a bit of popularity in the recent months. Kim Hongjoong, who he had gone to high school with until the older dropped out to focus on his career instead.

San didn't care much for that though, because a pretty face and a talent like Hongjoong's didn't mean he could love and care for you like you deserved it.

San believed that only he could give you everything you needed and wanted, and everything beyond that. Which was exactly why he was seeing red, punching the wall next to himself angrily. It caused his knuckles to bleed from the force behind the action, but the rage he felt overshadowed his pain.

Why didn’t you realize you were destined to be his and his alone? That you shouldn’t go whoring yourself out to other men? That only he should be the one to hold you in his arms, the one to protect you from everyone and everything.

He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why you couldn’t feel his attraction to you, why you insisted on turning a blind eye to him and found him “weird.” That’s what he assumed to be the case, at the very least.

San loved you, why was that so damn difficult for you to understand?

His narrowed eyes flickered over to the knife resting on his bedside table, and he had it clutched tightly in his bleeding hand within the blink of an eye.

He darted down the stairs without a second thought, blinded by the rage he felt deep within himself.

Meanwhile, outside, you were hugging your boyfriend goodbye for the night. His dark eyes shone innocently as he kissed your nose affectionately, causing you to giggle while still having your hands intertwined.

“So I’ll pick you up at 10 tomorrow for brunch, yeah?”

“Sounds good, Hongjoongie~ I’ll see you then.” You playfully blew him a kiss before he turned and walked off into the night, rounding the corner shortly after.

It was San’s time to strike, using your distracted state of mind to creep up behind you and tightly wrap an arm around your torso while he held the knife to your throat in warning.

You didn’t recognize his voice at first when he whispered into your ear, your brain much too clouded from the feeling of fear filling you, “If you make any sound at all, I’ll personally slit your throat and cut your vocal cords. You don’t want to lose an angelic voice such as yours, do you~?”

Realizing your situation was hopeless due to the unexpected amount of strength the man holding you possessed, you stopped trying to kick him and wrestle yourself free. This was the only answer he needed, starting to take slow and deliberate steps backwards from your house over to his. His hold on you remained tight, borderline suffocating even, just in case you would dare to get bold and try something.

He had left his door slightly ajar, kicking it shut behind him once he had finally brought you inside of his living space.

You still found yourself unable to figure out the identity of the man who had burst into your comfort zone out of nowhere but you didn’t want to find out what he was capable of doing to you if you attempted to resist whatever he was in the process of doing and pinpoint who he was, considering the amount of ease with which he snuck up and took hold of you just a few minutes ago.

Casually dropping his knife onto a nearby cupboard, he led you down the hallway of his house to a spacious bedroom. It was then a figurative lightbulb went off in your head and the fog clouding your mind cleared, upon seeing certain pieces of furniture he had placed in the room.

You had been here before. You had been in this house before when he had just moved in and his furniture was all over the place, he was the ‘cute neighbor’ who had offered you some coffee and invited you over to ‘get to know each other a little.’ Now all you needed to do was remember his name- it clicked. You remembered.

His grip on you (probably purposely) loosening, you whirled around and took a few steps away from him. San didn’t seem all too fazed by it though, simply grinning knowingly at you and crossing his arms while you did your best to subtly gain proper awareness of your surroundings.

It seemed like he noticed, however, because that was when he finally spoke up again.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to recognize me, love. You know who I am, don’t you~?” His tone was so calm that it unsettled you to the point of having to avert your eyes, your head hanging low as you nodded hesitantly, hardly even noticing his use of the pet name.

“I knew it...~” San’s voice trailed off into a purr that you weren’t sure how to feel about, deciding that being wary was likely the smartest thing you could do in your current situation.

Too lost in thought, you didn’t realize he had stepped closer to you while you were internally debating with yourself, pleased that you seemed to remember what he said about speaking.

“Now, I have something to take care of for a little bit... I trust that you’ll be good and not leave this room.” Although a smile was painted on his features, it didn’t make his tone sound any less threatening. Not willing to find out what might happen if you didn’t react, you nodded once more.

“That’s my good dove~” All of it disgusted you - from the way he cooed at you, over the way his lips twitched upwards into a grin, to the way he looked at you like you were the only person in this twisted world.

You hated it and yet there you stood, in the middle of this sicko’s bedroom, frozen with uncertaintly and fear. You only scarcely resisted the urge to punch him in the face, watching closely as he left a few moments later and closed the door behind himself.

You heard him lock it as well, heaving a shaky sigh when you believed him to be out of earshot.

Your body shook with rage, how did he have the audacity to just kidnap you like that and walk away like he didn’t commit a goddamn felony? Your first instinct was to break something, and you figured that the window might be the first best thing - just in case it’d give you an opportunity to escape.

Looking around, you were quick to find a small hammer in a drawer. You swung it against the glass with every bit of force you could muster, only for the object in your hand to bounce back without leaving even so much as a crack. Dumbfounded by the fact that San had even reinforced his windows to keep you from leaving him, clearly having planned this for a while, you dropped the hammer next to you and sank to your knees.

You curled in on yourself, sobs wracking your body as you were forced to come to terms with the reality that you were trapped. Trapped in this room, trapped with your not-so-innocent-and-sweet neighbor.

Meanwhile, San’s steps were hurried as he sought out your boyfriend’s house, knife in hand while he occasionally glanced at his phone. It probably wasn’t very smart of Hongjoong to have his personal address publicized for fan mail purposes, considering how easily it could be exploited by people like San.

He should’ve been freezing out in the cold air at 3:35 in the very early morning, but the blood practically boiling in his veins kept him from being affected by it much. It was almost too easy for him to trespass onto the desired property when he finally reached it, breaking the lock on the door effortlessly with the blade of his knife.

Hongjoong had a habit of staying up as late as it was humanly possible, and it was rather common knowledge that he sometimes didn’t even sleep at all. As such, San was not the least bit surprised to faintly hear someone playing the piano when he stepped into the house as quietly as he could.

He followed the sound, eventually coming to a large room filled with a variety of instruments of different sizes. In the middle was, as San had to begrudgingly admit, a beautiful piano. Its seat was occupied by his very target, Hongjoong, who was aware of the younger man’s presence and let his fingers press against the black and white keys once more.

The sound the action produced was so disharmonious that it made San physically cringe as he stared the young pianist down, the latter of whom finally lifting his head with a deep, exasperated sigh.

“This is about y/n, isn’t it? I’ve noticed the way you look at-”

“You saw nothing! You know nothing! Do you have any fucking clue how painful it is to see the one you love with someone else, to not even have them spare you a single glance because of how little they care about you?” San was furious at this point, blinded by his rage, Hongjoong flinching and recoiling in his seat at the harsh tone employed by the other male as he continued, “I know you don’t. You were always the prodigy and excelled at what you did, got everything you wanted so easily... including the one thing I wanted too. I can’t live with that, and neither will you.”

“I-I didn’t- That’s not-” Hongjoong stammered, trying to defend himself before quickly realizing it was a futile endeavor when he saw San lunging at him with his knife clutched tightly in his hand. His reflexes were fast as he tried to reach for a nearby violin to whack the latter unconscious with but the crazed younger was, to his demise, much faster and pinned him to the surface of his piano while the keys beneath him produced another dissonant sound.

It didn’t exactly help that San was not only taller but also more muscular than Hongjoong, so the latter’s tries to wiggle and struggle free were for nothing. He groaned in pain as the wooden edges of his instrument forcefully dug into his skin; he clawed at it, but to no avail. He had no chance against San.

Despite knowing how hopeless it was for himself, Hongjoong refused to go down without a fight and proceeded kick and scream in San’s hold, “You’re making a huge m-mistake-”

His vision spun before going black, his pleas going silent while his body went limb. Everything stopped, except for San. He continued to stab and mutilate the older until he deemed it enough and was satisfied, stepping backwards after. He got what he came here for. Taking a quick picture with his phone to show to both you and the police what had taken place (although he’d come up with an alibi for the authorities, of course), he backtracked his steps and left the house as fast as his feet would take him.

Still under the safe and dark blanket of the night, he made his way back to his own house. Making sure to hide the bloody knife where no one would find it, he cleaned himself off briefly before he got an idea for how he could use the ‘souvenir’ he brought for you.

You jumped slightly in your spot on San’s bedroom, curled up and hiding your face behind your knees even now, when you heard him slam the front door shut which signalled you that he had returned from whatever he was out doing. You feared the worst as you listened carefully, presuming the noise he was making to be coming from his kitchen.

You looked up when the bedroom door clicked open and San entered, a smug and satisfied grin on his face as he moved to set a jar on the bedside table before crouching in front of you.

“I’m home, bunny. Did you miss me~?” His falsely innocent, sweet tone was still something you despised, although you felt genuine fear for what he could do to you simply by looking at the tiny smudge of blood lingering on his cheek, so you nodded obediently.

“Good. I just had to have a little chat with your pretty boy, and look what he gave me~!” San cheerfully nudged his head towards the bedside table, and the sight you were met with made you feel sick to your stomach.

What you assumed to be Hongjoong’s bloody heart. In a jar. You kept glancing back and forth between him and the object, gaping at him in both shock and disbelief of what he had done.

“What do you think of it, love? Pretty, isn’t it~? Go on, tell me.” He encouraged you softly, "You told him he had your heart right? Now you have his forever!” He chirped, and your voice was shaky as you spoke.

“Y-you monster!” You exclaimed, cursing yourself internally for your stuttering as you cursed at him, “You heartless bastard, you didn’t have to kill him!”

“I didn’t want to kill him,” he admitted softly, looking down as if he felt any sense of remorse for any of his actions within the last hour or so, “but he left me no choice. He refused to break up with you. He refused to let me love you without... all this.” He gestured vaguely, pulling out his phone to show you the photo he took, “He refused to let me have even one thing I wanted for myself, even though he always got whatever he wished for. Desperate times require desperate measures, I had no choice...”

San trailed off, your own face paling at the realization that Hongjoong had been murdered because of a petty rivalry of sorts from the past that San had yet to let go of.

Feeling lightheaded by the abundance of information swimming in your already aching head, you blacked out. When you came to your senses again, it appeared to be morning and San was making noise in another room.

Tears wet your face as you shakily reached for your phone, wishing you hadn’t because the very first notification you opened was a headline you had prayed wouldn’t be reality, accompanied by the very picture San had taken the previous night.

“Up and coming pianist Kim Hongjoong brutally murdered in his home last night; investigations still ongoing”

----- Taglist (tell me if you wanna be added):

@cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva  @galaxteez @innosintsan @latte-fairytaekwoon @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @nightqueennyx​ @twancingyunhoe​  @vocalyunho @yunhoiseyecandy​

Network tag:

@8makes1teamnet​

#8makes1teamnet #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #hongjoong angst #san angst #ateez hongjoong angst #ateez san angst #just- just don't ask where the idea for this came from. I swear I'm not crazy- #hanatiny writes

[charcubed]

hey char, mind to share your fave stevebucky headcanons? 👀

Oh I LOVE that you asked me this :’)  Thank you!

I honestly have so many if I really think about it because I love them so much and I think about their dynamic so much that I have so many favorite things... but here is what I think of off the top of my head:

• Steve was color blind before the serum, according to canon. I have a headcanon that Bucky used to try to describe colors to him. I wrote a mini fic about that here.

• Bucky was drafted for the war, but didn’t tell Steve. Steve sort of assumed that Bucky enlisted, and Bucky never wanted to correct him. How could he? Steve wanted to enlist so badly, and Bucky didn’t ever feel like he could admit that he didn’t have the same drive to want to ~fight for the country~ like Steve did. He didn’t want to disappoint him and he was afraid Steve would think he was a coward. So Bucky just... never told him that he was forced into war. It was never his choice to fight for the country. If it was up to him, they would’ve stayed home together and stayed safe and never fought at all.

• They were always physically rough with each other, in the sense that they'd wrestle as boys all the time, and Steve loved that Bucky never treated him as fragile. Buck knew he could take it. Even after the serum, they'd still scuffle a bit like kids, finding a bright spot in a war-torn world. They’d be awake in the trenches on lookout, having soft conversations in the night, and shoving each other after one says something stupid or makes a bad joke.

• Steve is bi, and Bucky is gay. Bucky was consciously aware of his feelings for Steve way, way before Steve was aware of his for Bucky. In the 30s, Bucky has a bit of a reputation for ~dating around,~ but not in a rude ladies’ man kind of way but rather his reputation is “Bucky Barnes is a real charmer. He’ll show you a good time and he’s really sweet, but he never pushes your boundaries.” Some women wishes he’d push their boundaries, but he doesn’t. He’s taken so many women out on dates because he never lets it get super serious, since they’re not who he wants and it’s mostly for appearances’ sake, especially since he and Steve live together. He definitely enjoys hanging out with women, and treating them nice, but most of the time his motivation is to try to set up double dates–half because Steve deserves to find a great girl to date, and half because a double date means Bucky can selfishly do a date activity “with” Steve and not have it mean anything. Meanwhile though, Steve gets jealous as hell and testy about Bucky dating all the time, but he’s oblivious to the fact that it’s because Steve wishes Bucky would be with him instead.

• Their first kiss was when Steve was 16 and Bucky was 17. I’m not necessarily saying that’s when they actually got together, but something significant happened between them at those ages... maybe they kissed because they were drunk, or it was so Steve’s “first kiss” would be someone he knew and it was for “practice.” And then they both never talked about it again, because they’re idiots and were afraid to ~ruin things~ between each other. That’s why Steve says “Rumlow said ‘Bucky’ and all of a sudden I was a 16-year-old kid again, in Brooklyn.” That’s why “seventeen” is one of Bucky’s trigger words as the Winter Soldier. It checks out, because Bucky is a little bit older than Steve.

• Steve doesn’t fully admit the depth of his own feelings for Bucky to himself until he finds out Bucky’s been captured by HYDRA. And then he tears Europe apart to get him back. He’d have done that anyway, obviously, but... the prospect of losing Bucky forever is really what makes him realize how much he can’t handle that concept. Because he’s in love with him.

• After Bucky “dies,” Steve gets more reckless, and that’s part of the reason he put the plane in the ice and didn’t try to survive: he didn’t want to live in a world without Bucky in it. This is supported by canon. And so I headcanon that, after Steve finds out about the Winter Soldier, one day he abruptly realizes that he could’ve died in that plane crash and never known Bucky was alive and brainwashed and suffering. He thought Bucky was dead and he wanted to follow him, and he could’ve left Bucky even more alone in the world without knowing it. When Steve realizes how close he came to leaving Bucky behind like that, he throws up. It horrifies him to think about it.

• They each have a pair of dog tags where one says “Steve Rogers” and one says “Bucky Barnes.” They swapped one tag each, so that they’d have a matching set, because while they couldn’t list each other as “next of kin,” they wanted tangible evidence that would show other people how important they are to each other. So people would know: tell him if something happens to me.

• Their Brooklyn accents come out / get heavier around each other, especially if they’re bitching about things or arguing.

• Bucky is a complete sci-fi and fantasy nerd–which is now confirmed canon, and I love it. In particular, I like to headcanon that he loves to read paperback sci-fi novels, and discount romance novels. He unironically enjoys them, and he leaves them allllll over the place. One of the things they love to do is Bucky will sit around and read while Steve will sit around and draw/paint, and half the time Steve gets distracted sketching Bucky’s facial expression he makes while he’s reading.

• Bucky is also a pop culture gremlin. He will try and often get interested in pretty much anything and everything, without rhyme or reason. In modern day, he and Nat will watch trashy reality TV together–sometimes to make fun of it, sometimes to get invested. Steve thinks they’re insane for that. And sometimes Bucky will like one niche thing but then for very specific reasons he dislikes another similar thing. It makes sense to him, even if Steve doesn’t get it.

• Steve tends to be pickier with the kind of stuff he enjoys. He’s always had Strong Opinions™️ on everything, including and especially art. Put him in a museum and he’ll have a lot of thoughts on all of it. He doesn’t judge things or hate on other people for liking things he doesn’t like at all, but he won’t get hooked on a movie/show quite as easily. The one exception is animation, which he absolutely adores, and he goes on a wild binge of all kinds of animated content for awhile–shows and movies–because the various art styles and uses of the medium to tell crazy stories just fascinates him.

• Easy access to so much music is one of their mutual favorite things about the 21st century. Bucky often gets into individual artists’ entire discographies and becomes a fan, whereas Steve often gets into a handful of specific songs from a wide range of various people. Like... Bucky will often love an entire album, and Steve will often love 2 songs specifically more than others. But even with that, Steve loves collecting vinyl records–both old and new ones.

• Bucky has a fantastic singing voice even though he’s shy about it, and he tends to hum along to music when distracted or working on something else–especially while making something in the kitchen. 

• Bucky likes technology more than Steve; Steve likes physical stuff more than Bucky. Bucky loves to take photos and videos of things all the time, hoarding digital memories in a way that’s precious to him, knowing that they’re “safe” and accessible anywhere. They lost so much of the objects that they loved a century ago, and photos were scarce, but now... there are endless ways to have pictures. When Bucky was recovering in Wakanda and Steve was on the run, Bucky would often text Steve photos–sometimes without captions–to wordlessly share bits of his days with him. He’s got a good eye for photography, except for when he takes the photo equivalent of shitposts to make Steve laugh. Regardless, Steve gets his favorites printed–some of Bucky’s photos, some of his, some of their selfies–so they also always have something tangible to hold onto.

• Bucky calls Steve “sweetheart” sometimes, just to be a little shit–and he means it. It makes Steve turn red every time, without fail, but he secretly doesn’t mind it.

Okay I’ll stop hahaha. Those are the main ones that come to mind for me all the time when I think of them! 

Thank you again for asking :D  This was so fun to write all in one place!

#anonymous #asks #stevebucky #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #headcanons #literally sat here and spent like an hour writing this. like it's 2017 again. NO remorse! a nice way to wind down my evening #char writes things

[ddarker-dreams]

Sweet Talkin’. Yan Dabi x Reader [COMM]

There’s been an abnormal amount of sirens tonight.

It should be unnerving -- and to an extent it is -- but this isn’t what keeps you awake. Not that, or even the dogs barking outside accompanied with an occasional derogatory yell. With a heavy heart, you can say that you’ve gotten used to all of that noise. No, it’s something different that steals you from the welcoming comfort of a deep slumber. 

The thing that truly keeps you up is the anticipation of what is to come. Or more precisely, who. 

The bright glow of your phone strains your tired eyes, but it’s your best shot at finding entertainment. Squinting at the blinding light, exhaustion seeps into your being despite your best efforts to ward it off. No matter how much caffeine you drink later on in the day, it’s not enough to to thwart your natural inclinations to sleep.

For most, nighttime is a relaxing time of day that’s coveted. It brings a time of solitude, to reflect and rest up for the next day. While you wish you could return to the days where you felt like that, it’s long behind you now. Instead, you evade sleep, in fear of what could occur when you’re in the defenseless state. 

An illusion of control is better than none at all.

“You’re gonna get dark circles under those pretty eyes if you keep staying up this late.” 

A deep voice rumbles from the entrance to your shared room, one that you instantly recognize. Even in your groggy state, your emotions heighten in his presence. Turning off your phone and placing it down, you stretch your arms out, a yawn leaving your lips in the process.  

So he’s back. 

“Yeah, yeah…” you grumble back, caring little for the teasing comment. After feeling around your nightstand, a click resonates, light illuminating your room. Once your eyes adjust, you spot your unwelcome visitor, who makes himself at home. Dabi walks towards you, your bed creaking under his added weight as he sits down. Untying his shoes, he throws them carelessly in the corner.

Sensing your staring, he looks over his shoulder and grins at you. “Awe, you miss me or somethin’? How cute.” 

A groan leaves your lips, and you reach to throw a pillow at him. He easily deflects it with a snicker, working on taking his shirt off next. At least now that he’s back you feel more inclined to sleep, knowing that he can’t sneak up on you. Splatters of dark vermilion catch your attention, mouth curling downwards into a frown. 

If there’s anything you’ve learned in your time with Dabi, it’s that you shouldn’t ask where the blood stains come from. Ignorance is bliss, right? It’s still an unnerving sight, especially since you know it isn’t his. 

The relationship you two share is nothing if not unconventional. His occupation -- if you can even call it that -- has him coming and going at unholy times at night. Sleep is difficult to come by, not knowing when he might make an appearance. It’s what leads you to stay up some nights, a preferable experience to tossing and turning with anxious thoughts plaguing you.

As long as you stay in your designated place, Dabi holds true to his promise of doing you no harm. Thinly veiled threats under the pretense of being your “roommate” lead you to the current day, an awkward routine settling in. For all it’s worth, it could be worse. You’re acutely aware of what Dabi is capable of, having seen the ashes of corpses blurred out in the news. 

Why he’s taken a liken to you is beyond you. It still beats dying, only by a sliver. 

“There are some leftovers in the fridge,” you tap your phone, reading the time. Three in the morning. Great, and you have work tomorrow too. “I think I’ll give sleeping a shot now that you’re back.” 

Dabi raises an eyebrow at this, a fresh shirt without blood stains now on. “You always sleep when I get back. It hurts my feelings. What, am I not good enough company?”  

‘If I’m being honest, not really.’

He grins at how you shiver, lazily crawling over to be by your side. His sudden presence fills your nose with unknown scents, ranging from smoke to burnt leather. Underneath is hints of his cologne, all mixing together to disorient you further. Dabi loves riling you up, testing the limits of what you can handle. 

You take a deep breath, hugging your knees to your chest. As long as you don’t let it get to you, it’ll be fine. He always gets bored eventually, leaving you to do as you please. That’s what you’ll aim for.

“It’s not that. I just have stuff to do tomorrow, and I don’t like being exhausted. It’s my long shift.” 

His trademark grin melts away, furrowing eyebrows and a grimace taking its place. Mentioning your life outside of him is a tricky battle, and you can’t help but regret mentioning it. Being in a sleep deprived state is a major disadvantage in your interactions with him.

“This again? I thought I told you to quit. Rent or whatever won’t be an issue, I’ll handle it.” Dabi scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your bare shoulder. His skin feels rough against yours, coarse hands rubbing circles into  you. You bite your lip at the sensation, hair on the back of your neck standing. 

“I... I like my job. Sure, it can be irritating at times, but it gives me something to do during the day. I’d go stir crazy without something concrete to focus on.” The words are heartfelt, unfiltered. When he responds in silence you worry you’ve made a mistake, upsetting him with your defiance.

He huffs against your neck, lifting his head and shooting you a displeased look.  His voice is a low murmur, one that reverberates into the core of your very being. “Always making trouble for me..." 

Dabi’s grip around you tightens, and you gulp thickly. With how casual he speaks to you, it can be easy to forget the major power imbalance. Instead of greeting you with insults, or worse, he lightly flicks your forehead.

You blink, baffled.

“Don’t most people hate their jobs? I figured you’d be jumping at the idea of having more free time, or whatever. So you can focus on other things.” 

It’s not a confession you were expecting, your cheeks flushing at the considerate nature of his words. While it’s true quitting your job is an appealing thought, it creates a semblance of balance within your now chaotic life. Helping you stick to a schedule, in the same way school used to. 

Now feeling confident in expressing yourself, your taut muscles relax into his touch. “I’m too tired to think about it properly, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how you can stay up this late all the time without losing it.” 

Deflecting from the previous topic makes you feel better. If Dabi notices your intentions he doesn’t point them out, allowing you to take control of the conversation without complaint. He must prefer it over when you’d just shake and cry in his presence.

“You get used to it, sweetheart,” he drums his fingers against you, smirking. “I’ll make a night owl outta you yet.” 

Any implications in his words go straight over your head.

“As tempting an offer as that is, I think I’ll pass. ” 

He shrugs at your indifference, removing his arms from your frame. The lack of enveloping warmth causes you to shiver, Dabi searching through his bag. You peak over his shoulder out of curiosity, his scarred hands settling on an object which he pulls out. 

It’s a copy of Animal Crossing, in all of its beautiful glory. You wipe your eyes, unsure if what you’re seeing is reality.

“W-what?” you guffaw before your brain has the chance to stop you, jaw agape and head tilted. Dabi places it on your lap, and returns to his previous position of holding you. There’s clear amusement in his eyes at your stunned state, relishing in your every reaction.

“Did I get the wrong thing? This is that game you wanted, isn’t it?” 

It had to have been a week or so ago. You lamented to him about not being able to afford this, not even realizing he was giving it any attention. To think he remembered, and acted on it for your sake... is a touching sensation. Maybe he is capable of selflessness after all.

The cute box art puts a smile on your face, one that Dabi stares at. 

“I have to say, I’m surprised,” you pick it up, looking at the back with wide eyes. “Did the cashier give you a funny look when you picked this out?” 

‘I really need to start thinking before I speak.’

He shakes his head at your blunt comment, not taking any offense. “I didn’t get it that way.”

‘Oh, well... better not ask more than necessary. There’s no blood on it so at least that’s a good sign.’

Wiggling free from his grip, you rotate your legs over the side of the bed, intent on getting your switch. An opportunity like this must be taken advantage of, and you’ve wanted to play this game for some time now. Dabi must’ve read your mind, and pulls you back to him with little effort before you get the chance. 

“If I remember correctly, you said you were tired just a few minutes ago.” 

He plucks the game from your fingers, and places it on the side furthest from you. What a cruel world this is, to have paradise so close and yet so far. You can’t help the pout that forms at his actions.

“The situation changed, I’m wide awake now.” you explain to an unmoved Dabi, launching over his lap to get your coveted game back. He picks it up, lifting it over your head with a chuckle. So that’s how it’s going to be. 

Defeat settling in, you retreat for now. A sigh leaves your lips, arms crossing over your chest. You should’ve known better, Dabi has made it clear to you that he wants your attention. Looks like you’ll have to wait until after work to get a taste of Animal Crossing. 

There’s a glint of mischievous in his azure eyes, one that you’ve seen more often than you wish. Dabi sighs in mock hurt, placing a hand over his heart. “Not even so much as a thank you for my efforts. That’s cold, babe. Real cold.” 

“I’m sorry, you’re right. Thank you, it means a lot.” 

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “That’s not what I was looking for. Try again, sweetheart.” 

A flurry of thoughts fly through your mind, all competing with one another to offer a solution. Does he want money for it? He should know that you’re not capable of producing that amount, or you would’ve bought the game for yourself. Dabi gives you a moment to think, before offering the answer to you.

He puts his pointer finger on your lip, maintaining eye contact while doing so. 

“Oh, t-that.”

“So glad to see that you’re finally catching on.” 

It could be the summer heat winning over your AC, the room suddenly feeling warmer than it did a few moments prior. You look down at your blankets, focusing on anything other than the person in front of you. This level of teasing is nothing new with Dabi, he always manages to fluster you. 

He sits, relaxed, waiting for you to make a move. There aren’t any other options that you can think of, so you give into what he wants. Moving closer to his face, you feel his warm breath fanning against your skin. Your hand twitches, pressing against his chest to offer balance.

Squeezing your eyes closed, you tilt your head, soft lips brushing over his own. All of your movements are hesitant, your entire body feeling like it’s on fire. Heart pounding violently against your chest, you move to pull back. Only to discover his hand on the back of your head is stopping you from doing so.

Dabi slants his lips back over your own, nibbling your bottom lip. You freeze, the unexpected affection leaving you incapable of reacting. It’s when you squeak that he finally loosens his grip, opening his eyes to take in your embarrassed countenance. 

All things considered, it wasn’t an unpleasant experience. 

You cover your burning face with your shaking hands, feeling the warmth emanating off of you. He makes it even worse by chuckling, the low rumble filling you with indignation. There never is hope of catching a break with Dabi. 

“You might be the one with a fire quirk after all,” he leans forward, placing a hand against your hot forehead. “Mm... that look you’re giving me is too much. You have to be doing it on purpose at this point.” 

Fed up with his relentless teasing, you smack his hand away and purse your lips. He props his arms behind his head, letting you glare at him to your heart’s content. From his lack of reaction, you get the feeling he isn’t too intimidated by you. 

“Whatever, I’m going to bed,” you huff, returning to your side and pulling up the blankets. He doesn’t make a move to stop you, and you take the opportunity to lay down on your side. Refusing to look at him, you focus on the wall. 

Dabi pokes your cheek, which you ignore. 

He lets out a long sigh at your antics, joining you underneath the covers. You hear shuffling behind you, and can’t help but wonder what it is that he’s up to. Maybe he’s succumbing to his own exhaustion, and will let you sleep in peace? What a perfect world it’d be if that’s the case.

The thought is entertained for three seconds before you’re pulled against his firm chest from behind, toned arms snaking around your torso and staying there. His body is always so warm. It doesn’t help that you’re already embarrassed from before. Dabi grumbles something incoherent, placing his head in the crook of your neck. 

Accepting the situation for what it is, you stop moving. He reaches over you to turn off the light, and darkness surrounds you once more. All you can hear are your own labored breaths, and rapidly pounding heart. It might be impossible to sleep like this. 

You’ll call out of work for tomorrow. 

“... Dabi?” you whisper, voice soft and barely audible. He grunts in response, nuzzling further into your neck. For the past few months, there’s been a thought that haunts you at every turn. One that you can never find an answer to, and have been too frightened to investigate beyond your own musings.

It’d be easy to play this off as sexual attraction alone, yet a voice in the back of your head says otherwise. That what Dabi feels for you goes beyond that, into a sinister territory that you want desperately to avoid. Why is it he’s patient -- borderline kind -- with you, yet cruel to everyone else? None of it makes logical sense, his actions erratic and seemingly without reason.

Maybe you shouldn’t know. Still, you ask, against your better judgement. 

“Why do you like me so much?” 

You feel how he smiles against the skin of your neck, the sensation stirring up unknown emotions within. He squeezes you against him once, letting out a low hum as he considers your words. While waiting for him to speak, you hold in a breath. 

“Dunno. Just do,” Dabi offers a noncommittal response, one that leaves you greatly unsatisfied. It seems he’s not even aware of it himself, the effect you have on him unlike anything he’s ever experienced. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” 

“... Alright, I won’t.” 

“Good. Now get some sleep, before I ask you to kiss me again.” 

#dabi my hero academia #Dabi #dabi x reader #dabi imagine #dabi headcanons #yandere dabi imagines #yandere dabi #yandere dabi imagine #yandere dabi x reader #bnha #bnha imagines #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #yandere bnha #yandere #my hero academia #my hero academia imagine #yandere my hero academia #commissions

[corsairesix]

How would you change Fallout 4?

Okay so this is a long one so it’s under the cut

As I’ve mentioned before, I would make the main plot focus on synths as a metaphor for McCarthyism (and to a lesser extent transness). This is assuming a magical world where I have full creative control over a main game in a major franchise. The main character would either be a wastelander (with optional traits to be an escaped synth, mind-wiped or not) OR if we’re going with the Sole Survivor then it would confirm the Sole is a synth theory; if the game’s going to make roleplay decisions for me, at least let them be thematically satisfying and cool.

The four faction companions would all be synths (Sturges, Danse, X6, and Glory) and would all represent a different take on synths in society. Danse would be basically the same, synth who doesn’t know it, self-hating, forced to change through self-acceptance or die in Blind Betrayal. The main change would be significantly changed behavior after BB and a chance to join the Minutemen or Railroad. Glory would be a synth who knows she’s a synth, and is very concerned with synth welfare and autonomy. X6 is a synth who has been mind wiped several times by the Institute due to his increased contact with the outside world. As he travels with the main character, there are decision points where X6 raises concerns about “glitches” (developing a personality as he gains experiences) and the player can decide whether to wipe his mind again or continue to travel with him. Before max affinity, he will ask for your help escaping the institute once again, you can complete his quest or you can turn him over to be mind wiped. Sturges is a synth with a Railroad identity, but who has traumatic memories resurfacing after the attack on Quincy. He is stuck between the true, harmful memories of the Institute or the false, comforting memories of his invented life.

In general the synth’s exploitation by the institute veers away from the slavery metaphor that’s in the game. Robots address labor issues very well and the slavery thing was weird and bad, so we’re moving away from that.

Mind wipes are much more controversial, much more like how they’re portrayed in Far Harbor. Characters like Glory who are mostly opposed to them see them as destruction of identity, not quite murder, but something that should only be done in dire circumstances. Those who are for it, Desdemona and Deacon, see it as a tool for helping synths hide and covering up painful memories (imperfect, as Sturges shows), and that there is an ineffable self that persists between wipes. It’s a source of tension even within the Railroad.

The Institute doesn’t have synth spies, but it does have human spies. The idea that the institute would 1) put synths in charge of major cities while still claiming they aren’t sentient and 2) put their constantly-escaping labor force on the surface with minimal supervision always bothered me. Institute agents foment anti-synth movements on the surface and sabotage synth sympathetic communities.

However, synth paranoia still totally exists. The combination of institute interference and the presence of freed synths, the public is terrified that their friends could be replaced by synths. In reality, the “confirmed” replacements were freed synths who either died (and evidence of them being a synth was found on death) or felt that it was safe to admit to others that they were a synth. No body snatching actually ever existed.

McDonough is a regular wasteland human, a corrupt Boston politician. He made his political career on anti-ghoul fearmongering, but after kicking the ghouls out of Diamond City he needed a new target. He is not associated with the institute, but since he began targeting synths he has received monthly campaign donations. He started the synth activities committee to investigate suspected synth sympathies among the citizens of Diamond City and its surrounding neighborhoods.

That’s the main plot stuff but for companions the main changes are:

Preston is a faction leader, not a companion. He’s very involved and has the same character arc, but the quests he gives are less radiant and more focused, with a plot moving forward.

Hancock is not a companion either, and is less of a good guy than in the game. Goodneighbor’s government serves as a condemnation of the founding father’s idea of freedom and that kind of American libertarianism. (Really, he’s an anarchist but also immortal mayor-for-life?)

Piper is a blacklisted journalist and the most vocal critic of McDonough’s anti-synth policies. She’s somewhere between an Edward R Murrow-esque anti-McCarthyist and an underground journalist. She’s a little more self-admittedly editorial and is openly for using journalism to change hearts and minds. She’s also a better writer than in the actual game.

Curie is a Mister Handy instead of a Miss Nanny because I find the concept of a girl Mister Handy that does the housework (especially when that’s already what Mister Handys do?) a bit silly. She voices more of a desire to be human and have control over her own body, rather than just “I want to do zee science better.” She even admires the player character if she is a woman. You can go the regular in-game route (with strong objections and disapproval from Glory, who doesn’t like to see someone she was close to inhabited by someone else) or you can use the institute to print a synth body for Curie. This route can be done under the guise of an “experiment” if you are part of the Institute (although some scientists may question the scientific value of such a plan) or you can get Liam Binet’s help if you’ve made contact with him as a spy for the Railroad. If you print Curie a body, it will be created based on her self-perception, and will look different from her body if you use the wiped synth route.

Ada and Codsworth can have a synth body printed as well, to Ada’s ambivalence and Codsworth’s objections. This can only be done if you are allied with the institute; Binet won’t help if your companion doesn’t seem to want to be a synth. There is no benefit to doing this.

Nick Valentine was a private detective pre-war, not a cop. After the Eddie Winter quest, which skips the collect-a-thon part, Nick wants to solve a case that is all his own, an unsolved wasteland murder that was the first case he had walk away from.

#fallout 4 #falloutfun #darquingdragon

[mercurial-madhouse]

Anonymous asked: I wish you would write... A Disney princess!AU (like cinderella or sleeping beauty or snow white) where both of them are princes just that they follow the same general plotline (for example H could be prince charming and L could be the one that got put to sleep or hidden somehow/some reason).

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*< 

You don’t have to say you love me (Just let me adore you)

Fiery sunlight flashes through the pendant soaring through the air, its broken chain trailing behind like snapped heartstrings.

Wrenched out of a waking dream, confusion and shock overwhelm Harry as he lurches on the shifting deck. Reeling yet frozen, he scans the insanity before him.

In his enchanted absence, chaos has usurped his throne. Niall, Liam, and Zayn are all racing about, attempting to contain the mayhem. And he’s… Why is he in his purple ceremonial robes? Why is he at sea? And the strange man a few metres away, who has just lost the pendant—what’s his name?—Ben. Why the bloody hell is Ben covered in sea creatures? Only his outstretched hand is visible, clawing for one end of the broken chain that’s sailing just out of reach.

The horrifying truth catapults into Harry’s chest. Caught within the magic bound into that necklace, he’d almost married this stranger. But this isn’t the man he loves.

Fear drives like a weighted anchor into his chest. Someone or something slams into him from behind.

Stumbling forward, Harry searches the quarterdeck desperately for the one person missing, the last person he remembers. Relief battles surprise and both cascade over Harry, unlocking his lungs beneath the flood-tide of emotion when Harry finds him.

Louis’s bracing barefoot against the opposite rail near Harry’s quarters, the captain’s cabin. The loose white shirt Harry first gave him, the one he’d flung off his own back when he’d found Louis stranded naked on the rocky shore three days ago, hangs haphazardly from one pale shoulder. The silent, shipwrecked sailor had struggled with the buttons then as though he’d never seen them before. Even now the shirt is unbuttoned halfway down his chest, one side tucked into his trousers as though Louis had thrown it on in a frantic rush to get here.

Ocean blues, wide like the ebbing tide, lock onto Harry’s. Harry launches through the melee of people and ocean life to reach Louis. Harry’s always hated low tide. Always felt like he was helplessly watching the shoreline as the ocean receded ever further away from him.

The circular pendant hits the deck and cracks. A golden flash bursts from the object, halting the tumult as it blinds everyone.

Harry’s heart surges into his windpipe as the beam zings across the deck, slams into Louis’s throat, and disappears.

Shock etches over Louis’s face. He pushes three fingers against his neck then swallows.

He opens his mouth… and speaks.

Harry’s world upends, throwing him back beneath the swirling waters of his own shipwreck eight days earlier. Up and down collide with past and present as the voice he’s dreamed of since that day comes to life and enchants him all over again with a single word.

“Hazza.”

**

Harry grins at the obvious curiousity scrunching Louis’s features. Whether he never could talk or the shipwreck that brought him to Harry’s shores left him too afraid to speak, Harry doesn’t know. But his beautiful features are so wonderfully expressive it’s as though Harry’s fluent in a language he didn’t realize he knew.

“What. Haz?”

Louis nods, glancing at the closed door they’d just come through after Harry’s mum, the queen, had shooed them out of her private chambers with a wave and that childhood name for Harry on her lips.

“It’s short for Hazza.” Why is he telling Louis? His mum never calls him Haz unless they’re alone, and now he’s adding to the slip-up?

Louis’s eyes light up with such pure delight that Harry’s heart skips a beat and promptly rolls over in his chest like it’s prepared to give up the ghost to the ocean depths. He tucks a wayward strand of hair out of Louis’s eyes. Countless brushings and his hair is as wild as it’d been when Harry found him yesterday. Untameable as the ocean that’d brought him here.

Mouth suddenly dry despite emotionally drowning, Harry’s tongue flicks out to wet his lip. He follows his heart over the ocean horizon that’s reflecting in those blue eyes. “You can call me that, if you want. Hazza.”

He’s officially lost his mind. Only his mum has the right to either name. But the soft, private smile Louis bestows upon him is so warm that Harry feels like he’s been crowned the prince all over again. All the adoration of the entire kingdom pales compared to the affection emanating from Louis now.

Louis’s mouth forms silently over the word, like he’s testing the feel of the name on his lips the same way he’s once again rubbing the ruffled silk cuff of the pale blue shirt he’s wearing between his fingertips. A flash of sadness momentarily dims Louis’ smile, but then it returns larger than before, crinkling the corners of his eyes, as though Louis still loves what neither of them can hear.

Harry would give up his claim to the throne for that smile.

**

“It’s you.”

The choked words burble up from his throat like bubbles through swirling seas. Two more steps and Louis’s in his arms. Holding Louis feels like the wild exhilaration of setting sail. Louis smells like saltwater air, a zesty ocean zephyr billowing the sails and guiding Harry ever onwards.

Unable to process, Harry tries to clutch Louis close and look into his face at the same time. His forehead bumps into Louis’s temple; his palm curves over Louis’s jaw.

“How is this-... I don’t-...”

Louis’s fingers fist in the purple velvet of Harry’s coat. “I’ll explain everything, Hazza, I s-”

Even though ragged with desperation, the vibrant sound of his voice shocks through Harry. Fantasy and reality collide and fragment into crystal clarity.

The man of his dreams is standing before him. Wide awake this time with no water filling his lungs, Harry refuses to lose Louis again.

He’d almost kissed Louis in the grotto before their boat upended. Now he ducks in to smash his lips into Louis’s before anything else can break them apart.

The port side of the ship runs aground over a submerged sandbar.  A barrel careening across the deck slams into Harry in the massive shockwave surging over L'Esprit as she keels to starboard, wrenching Louis from his grasp.

“Sire!” His first mate Liam catches Harry around the waist, hauling him against the mainmast he’s got hold of. But Louis stumbles, unable to find his balance.

“No!” Harry’s hand catches empty air as Louis hits the deck, sliding with everything not held down until he slams into the starboard rail.

The ship shudders and stills, canted slightly.

Gripping the rail, Louis pushes back to his feet. Harry pushes away from Liam. The sun sinks over the horizon. A blinding green flash shoots up from the spot where she fell into the sea.

“Mary mother,” Niall, Harry’s helmsman, breathes nearby, quickly crossing himself.

Every sailor knows the superstition. The green flash. The impossible will be made possible.

Harry staggers, halting halfway to him when Louis freezes. The blood drains from Louis’s face right before he disappears from view, engulfed in the same golden magic that’d left the necklace and returned his voice.

The golden hurricane vanishes.

Pure disbelief consumes Harry.

Louis’ shirt and tattoos are gone, replaced with pale skin broken only with tiny translucent scales where his tattoos used to be. They flash golden in the last rays of light, trailing down to a magnificent fishtail. Iridescent blue, with each tiny movement the colour shifts, as though the ocean and all her colours are captured within. Speckled throughout are scales of coral red, deep and luscious.

Harry blinks. The illusion remains. Fin smacking against the wood, Louis struggles upright, bracing on his palms.

Harry’s dimly aware of those eyes locking back onto him.

Louis slowly shakes his head, the plea so obvious on his face. “Hazza, I can expl-”

A slow chuckle from the forecastle breaks through the haze of disbelief clouding Harry’s senses.

Ben rises to his feet, casually brushing off guppies and starfish. The smirk on his face transforms his features and a wave of disgust rolls over Harry.

“Even the ocean knows you don’t belong together.”

He’s speaking to Louis.

Louis shakes his head again, tail flopping once more as he tries to straighten his torso best he can. His scales are already wrinkling, drying out in the warm evening air. “You enchanted him with me voice! How was I-”

Ben cuts Louis off by holding up a hand, three fingers raised. “Three days. That was the contract. You had three days to find your true love’s kiss, no matter what.”

Harry can’t keep up. That word, love, shocks him into speaking, but only a noise comes out before Louis’s growling at Ben in an echo of that burst of impetuous fire Harry’s seen glimpses of these past few days.

“I love him.” The melody of Louis’s voice changes. “Please, Simon, just give me one more minute.”

But Ben only laughs again, that same light chuckle. It grows, steadily deepening into a throaty cackle. A cloud of black envelops him until that laughter emanates from the void, punching through Harry and the hearts of every sailor aboard.

The monstrosity left in the wake of that cloud and laughter has several sailors crying out in fear, backing away. The human half is older, greying hair and cutting eyes. Instead of a tail, the creature ends in thick tentacles.

Simon leers at Louis. “Your voice belongs to me now.”

He lunges. Louis throws himself back against the rail. His eyes find Harry. Time frees Harry’s legs. He dives forward.

Simon’s arm catches Louis around the chest. His tentacles lock around that beautiful tail. Louis’s fingers claw into the wood, but the suckers latching into his scales immobilize him.

They vanish overboard.

“No!” Harry slams against the railing in time to catch a final glimpse of iridescent scales choked by black tentacles disappearing beneath the white-capped waves. He tears the buttons of his waistcoat ripping the ornate fabric off. He grabs the railing to dive overboard.

A hand grabs his arm, wrenching him back.

“Majesty, are you mad?!” Niall stares at him in horror. “You’re human, Sire!”

A burst of agony-fueled anger surges through Harry. “I don’t care,” he roars, wrenching his arm free. “I love him.”

It doesn’t matter that he’s in love with a fish.

Niall grabs him again. “I know.” Voice softer, but no less intense, he shakes his head. “But the ocean floor is only a grave for the likes of us. You’ll be dead before you can get close.”

The pity in Niall’s eyes hurts Harry more than his next words.

“He’s lost, Harry.”

Refusing to believe that, Harry shakes his head, jerking away from the words. Something flashes on the deck.

The compass that’d been around Ben’s, no, that monster’s neck. Harry’s heart lurches into his throat when he recognizes it.

It’s his compass. Understanding that his first love would always be the sea, his mother had gifted it to him when he’d turned sixteen two years ago, so he’d always find his way home no matter how far over the horizon he sailed. He’d been clutching it when he’d gone overboard in the storm, and was so certain he’d lost it in the shipwreck.

Harry snatches it from the deck. The broken chain falls away but Harry can only stare as the familiar weight in his palm settles in a pained squeeze around his heart with a single flash of a memory.

**

Floating. Numb. Idle waves weaving over his legs. A comforting pressure over his torso.

Gentle fingers brush a wet lock of hair from his face. The stranded curl slides over his cheek. His fingers curl around his compass.

Distant voices. “Majesty! Prince Harry!”

The weight shifts, startled. Lips brush a soft kiss over his brow.

“Live,” that bright voice that’d just been singing, beckoning Harry towards the surface of his consciousness, whispers, quiet yet commanding.

“Your Majesty! Prince Harry!”

A hand smooths down his arm and slides over his palm. The weight of his compass vanishes with the fingers. Someone splashes away through the shallows.

Blinding sunlight pierces his eyes as he pushes them open. He’s alone on the shore. Niall and Liam are racing across the surf towards him.

**

“Your majesty!” Liam’s shout jars Harry from the memory. The ocean had claimed him, and the ocean had saved him. It’s not Louis’s eyes that were familiar. After all these years, Harry’s now certain the ocean has been familiar because it swirls in captured sunswirls in those eyes he’d finally found three days ago.

And like the ebbing tide slipping through his fingers, that freedom has once again sunk beyond his reach.

“Majesty?” Liam’s fingertips brush his elbow to get his attention. Sorrow washes his voice soft. “Your orders?”

Harry can’t look away from his compass.

The glass is cracked, as broken as the mechanism within. The arrow no longer points north, but west, towards the horizon. Angry tears blur his vision as frustration wells in the pit of his stomach. He’s spent years seeking the heart of the ocean, only to find it, only to lose him. Louis saved him twice and now Harry can’t help him.

Harry can’t follow.

Harry clutches the compass until his knuckles are white, riding the roiling wave of frustration desperately. A warmth bursts from the compass and flushes his palm. Startled, Harry jumps. Like sunlight shifting over the surface, the compass flashes with a remnant of that golden magic of Louis’s voice that’d burst from it earlier.

Hope flutters like twin swallows taking flight in his chest. Harry turns back towards the rail where the arrow is pointing.

The broken arrow moves with him, aiming ever onward in the direction Simon and Louis had vanished. Harry’s facing due west but the arrow now points north before him.

“Sire?” Niall’s eyes are wide. He crosses himself again, staring at the compass in Harry’s hand.

A grim determination sweeps over Harry. “Get us afloat, Liam.”

His first mate nods. As Liam turns, barking out orders to the rest of the crew, Harry pockets his compass and throws off the lavender waistcoat that matches the coat he’d already discarded.

Unbuttoning the top three buttons of his white shirt, he rolls his sleeves up and turns to Niall.

“To the helm, Niall. I’ve got a prince to find.”

>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*<>*< 

(Of the three Disney-inspired ideas that came to me, I attempted with this one to stick as close to a direct retelling with Louis as the princess as the prompt requested. I’d also always wondered how Prince Eric knew where to find Ariel so he could help her defeat Ursula in the Disney version of Little Mermaid. I tried to answer that here. Hope you enjoy, Anony! I know it took a while. Moving homes can make writing time hard to find! And a huge thank you to you, Lily, for all your help, love!)

Have something else you’d like to see me write? Send me an ask (anon or no) completing the sentence ‘I wish you’d write a fic where…’

OT5 Superpowers 

Invisible Louis

Only one bed (H-POV)

Only one bed (L-POV)

ABO new-omega!Louis drabble that became a fic on AO3.

OT4 Spy AU

Disney-Inspired 1: Liam/Harry/Louis as Niall’s three fairy godmother roommates.

#trackinghome #hlcreators #hljournal #1dsource #yourlarrysource #tracksintheam #larry fanfiction #1d fanfiction #drabble