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#like i'm not trying to say i'm not responsible for this in any way whatsoever
elirluna · 2 years
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anger is an emotion that takes up a lot of space in this house and it does make me feel disgusting that a lot of it comes from me right now but i don't really think certain people have any right to be mad at me for it considering... that's how they raised me
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beomboomboom · 1 month
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Falling for you (literally)
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genre: fluff, best friends to lovers, drunken confession
pairing: Soonyoung x reader
summary: You never would've thought that helping a drunk Soonyoung go home would lead to him falling for you both literally and figuratively.
warnings: a little bit of swearing, mentions of drinking and alcohol
note: Drunk Hoshi never fails to make me laugh 😭😂. This fic is part of an ask for drunken confession fics. Enjoy reading <33
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"Come on, let's go home," you sigh when you catch sight of Soonyoung's slumped figure in the bar, his friends nowhere to be seen.
"I don't wanna. I'm tired," Soonyoung wines in response as he leans his body weight on you, his face puffy and flushed a light shade of pink from all the alcohol.
You should've known better than to believe Jeonghan when he called saying that your best friend was feeling sick and needed someone to take him to the hospital.
When you realized Jeonghan lied and called you only because he didn't want to be the one to haul Soonyoung's drunk ass home, to say you felt betrayed would be an understatement.
"I swear to god Jeonghan I will get you back for this," you mutter and curse Jeonghan under your breath as you take Soonyoung's limbs and attempt to haul him out of the bar. "Come on Soonyoung let's get out of here."
"Nooo~," Soonyoung whines as tears begin to escape his eyes, "I never got to beat Jeonghan in his drinking game."
"It's okay, next time you can try to win against Jeonghan," you say as you try to reason with Soonyoung, while knowing very well that with his alcohol tolerance he has about a zero percent chance of ever winning any drinking game whatsoever.
"Your house is close by, so you can walk a little right?" you question as you silently asses Soonyoung's condition. He seems a bit unstable so you wrap his arm around your shoulders and let him lean his weight on you. When you feel his hot skin meet yours you try to brush off the speeding up of your heartbeat, praying desperately that Soonyoung is too drunk to notice.
"Mhmm...I can walk," Soonyoung says with a drunken giggle as he stumbles out the door of the bar and leans his head on your shoulder.
"Careful, there's stairs here," you warn, slowing down so that Soonyoung can gain at least a bit of stability.
"Okayy~" Soonyoung giggles in response before letting out a scream as he trips over his own two feet and tumbles down the stairs.
"SOONYOUNG," you yell, panicked as you quickly run down the stairs. "Are you okay?"
"hehehe~" Soonyoung drunkenly giggles. "I fell for you."
Your mind goes in overdrive the moment you hear his words. On one hand you're concerned for him after just falling down the stairs seconds ago. The blood running down his knee and forehead has you wanting to rush him home so you can quickly take care of him.
But on the other hand, your brain is stuck on his confession that seems way too fake to be real. His confession that, if true, means your feelings might not actually be one-sided after all.
It must be a joke.
After all, Soonyoung makes a ton of jokes when he's drunk.
"No, you fell down the stairs. You should really learn to hold your liquor," you respond jokingly, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible and ignoring Soonyoung's past comment.
"Nooo~ I'm being serious," Soonyoung whines as tears begin to fall down his cheeks while he clings to your body. "Why can't you believe what I say? I like you."
You swear your heart stops in that moment. Gently, you cup Soonyoung's flushed face with your hand as you let out a fond laugh. "I like you too, but let's talk about this when you're sober."
Soonyoung lets out an excited squeal when he hears your response. "I guess my seducing techniques worked. I purposely wore clothes I knew you would like and-," Soonyoung begins to ramble before being interrupted by your embarrassed scream.
"You were doing that on purpose?!" You let out a embarrassed laugh as you give Sooonyoung a playful shove. "Anyways, we should go to your house. There's blood all over your knee and forehead"
"Can I have a kiss on my scratches? I think it'll help it get better," Soonyoung pouts while looking at you earnestly.
"That's kind of dirty though. There's blood-"
"Please?"
"Fine. But this is only because I like you," you relent as you gently kiss his knee and forehead.
"Okay, now a kiss here," Soonyoung says as he giggles and leans in closer to you to give you a kiss on the lips.
"Not right now. We need to get you cleaned up first," you say while ignoring Soonyoung's cries of protest. "I'll give you as many kisses as you want but only if you can walk with me to your house."
The second Soonyoung hears your words he jumps up and happily stumbles after you as you lead him to his house.
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You let out a fond smile as you tuck in a passed-out Soonyoung.
"I'm falling for you more and more every day," you whisper into his ear as you give a small peck on his forehead, right where a tiger printed band-aid sits (Soonyoung cried until you let him have the tiger band-aid) evidence of where Soonyoung quite literally fell for you.
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onesidedradiostatic · 14 days
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I feel like this fandom blames Vox's shitty behaviour too much on Alastor / Valentino
"Alastor rejecting him is the reason why he's like this in the present" this
"Valentino is the reason he's like this now" that
How about; Vox's shitty behaviour should be blamed on VOX because he's a shitty person and he's in hell for a reason.
Dunno I've seen many people baby him too much
idrk what's with the fandom's need to victimise vox so much honestly, what really pisses me off is that I've unironically seen a post with 200+ notes completely sympathising with vox like he's a baby going on about how alastor was completely using him and MADE him believe they had a mutual partnership, going about how TRAGIC vox is that he was rejected, absolutely ZERO sympathy for alastor whatsoever, completely painted as the singular master manipulator in their relationship, only used to talk about how bad they feel for babygirl vox. yes the unrequited feelings were brought up too and I cannot begin to say how bad it is to villainise the target of affection for not returning those feelings.
like okay... guess we will ignore how alastor presently has his irrational hatred of video now too (episode 1) which was likely a result of his falling out with vox that affected HIM too... no we will only think about how vox is the poor poor victim rejected by evil manipulator alastor mhm.... there's absolutely no chance alastor had any sort of genuine care for vox during that time whatsoever, he was just using him mhm mhm mhm
like look this isn't me trying to deny alastor being the type of person to do this but when you're ONLY painting alastor in the bad light and not giving vox any responsibility that's when I'm raising my eyebrows, I hate this type of black and white reading, like even with the hotel that we KNOW alastor has nefarious intentions for, there's some hint of genuine care there, is it so hard to think that that might've been the case back then with vox too? is it so hard to think that the relationship didn't just negatively impact vox but alastor too?
this is why I'm glad complicated (and sad!) is one of the ways they're described so I can hope for this take to be completely killed off when season 2 drops.
anyways, accidentally started ranting about radiostatic takes here I didn't even respond to the second part, I'm sure this one's been discussed at length but yes, the fact that this happens with both vox's relationships with val and alastor sure says something, like people LOOOVE to remove vox from responsibility of his own crimes/wrongdoings, no he must ABSOLUTELY be 100% the victim in all his relationships, there's no way he's done anything wrong...
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manicpixiefelix · 3 months
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head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}
Part 17.
Summary: Learning little things, and big things, on these summer days. About each other, and how the world sees you all, in the garden, in the family room, in hindsight, in the study late at night.
{ masterpost }
Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.
Warnings: reader, felix, venetia, and oliver getting high in the garden together, some degrading language (kind of a given any time venetia and reader are in the same room at this point), heavy discussion about the reader's parental trauma/neglect
A/N: 5812 words. i think i cast venetia in a bad light sometimes which i feel bad about because i love her to pieces, and she and the reader love each other very much its just that she's gotten used to being arguably too verbally prickly with them in order to rile her brother up mostly, and she forgets (and maybe i do too) what that looks like from the outside. anyways, just for absolutely no reason whatsoever, have you ever looked up what different flowers mean in flower language? much to think about.
TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)
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Venetia rolls her joints with little hearts at the end where the filter would go if it were simply a cigarette. It's a trick she learned during what she calls her 'gap year', what Elspeth calls her 'grand wine tour of Europe', and what Felix and Farleigh have recently started cruelly referring to as 'the year Venetia inspired a TV show'. While you do think it's mean, you also quietly agree that Billie Piper bares a striking resemblance to the young Catton woman in the ads you'd seen for Secret Diary of a Call Girl. Cruel implications is all you would say on the matter, not that either of the boys had been game enough to say it to her face.
But the thought floats through your mind in this moment, taking just a moment to admire the way she's expertly curled the paper before you bring it to your lips. She watches you with that smile that tends to intimidate others, sharp and mean and hungry, sharp gaze on your lips as you inhale, lips remaining sealed as you offer the next hit to Felix on your right. Venetia's focus follows the joint, straying from you to admire the way her brother takes a hit before he too passes it on to Oliver.
Felix muses to no-one in particular about how long it's been since he'd been out here to the Fairy Ring Garden, but only gets a response from Oliver, and a strained one at that as your guest holds smoke in his lungs as long as he's able, muttering that it's beautiful. Sitting on the grass in the morning sun, you squint at the iPod in your hands, trying to choose some music.
Venetia suggests Amy Winehouse. Felix calls his sister tragic under his breath, to which she flips him off. Still, it's the best suggestion you've got so far, so moments later, the singer's rich vocals warble out of the little, portable speaker you'd plugged into the headphone port.
"Good dog," Venetia says with a particularly mean sneer in her brother's direction as she takes the iPod out of your hands to place it on the grass, replacing it with the joint you'd all been passing around once more. Out of instinct, you place your free hand on Felix's chest, telling him that whatever reaction he was going to have really wasn't worth it. Venetia rolls her eyes, "boo, you whore," she snarks, laying back on the grass.
"I'm taking the rest of this as compensation for emotional damages," you hold the joint between two fingers, telling Felix to just roll another from the kit still sitting in the middle of the impromptu circle the four of you had made. Much to both yours and Felix's surprise, Oliver moves too quickly to let him, rolling with the air of someone who'd seen it done often without having done it himself.
Both you and Felix watch him for quite a while as he stumbles through the task like a baby deer taking it's first steps. Things are getting fuzzy and warm around the edges already, and you're caught up in watching the way Oliver's hands work.
"Why 'd you put up with her?" Oliver asks bluntly, frowning at his work. Venetia's indignant 'hey' goes otherwise ignored by the three of you and it takes a long moment for Felix to respond.
"She's my sister?" But in his confusion it sounds more like a question, talking about Venetia like she's not even there. But Oliver stops, and finally looks at him; he offers a rather sad looking, clearly unfinished joint, not as an offering but as a silent request for help. Felix takes it and tries not to look too endeared by Oliver's failed attempt as he fixes it.
"Not you, Felix," Oliver, after a moment, looks away from Felix, right to you, eyes wide and earnest as he watches you take a long draft of your own joint, now burned well down. His gaze makes his intentions clear, but still he offers, "she's mean to you too." Too, like he'd pointed out about Farleigh all those months ago.
"They like it," Venetia scoffs at the sky dismissively, but Oliver refuses to acknowledge her, even if Felix takes a moment to scowl at his sister and her constant, casual degradation of you. But a slow, amused smile spreads across your lips in the moments that follow, you can't help it.
"I love that you worry about me, Ollie," you sigh almost dreamily. Clearly not expecting that, you have the pleasure of watching Oliver blush with surprise, "you're so fucking pretty, Ollie," you add, though you're pretty sure you couldn't have stopped yourself from saying that out loud if you tried. He blushes harder, while Felix and Venetia both try and stifle their giggles; you take another hit, tilting your head just a little as you look at him, analysing him. Finally, when you ask his favourite flower out of seemingly nowhere, Oliver seems like he can't function under your gaze like this, and chooses to lay back in the grass, mirroring Venetia.
"Darling, you're such a lightweight," Felix snorts, speaking from the corner of his mouth as he holds the rerolled joint between his lips as if intending to light it. Before he can flick the lighter on, however, you take his chin gently in hand, guiding him to you, pressing the still-glowing end of your own joint to his unlit one for several long seconds, until his caught successfully.
When you and Felix join your companions in laying back on the grass, you do so together. His arm is around you, coaxing you to lay with your head on his chest, beside him under this perfectly blue sky.
"Why would you want to know something like that?" Oliver's voice reminds you he's there only moments later.
"Because their robot brain needs to know everything about everyone at all times," at least Venetia sounds fond when she chimes in, even if her words aren't exactly the most complimentary.
"You're lucky you're pretty, Vee," Felix cuts in with a casually cruel tone; you can feel the way he twitches with irritation, "because you have so few other redeeming features."
"I am pretty," Venetia agrees airily, pointedly ignoring his insult, "you're such a darling brother, Felix," she adds with painfully sarcastic faux-sweetness. Felix's only response was to sigh with incredibly loud disappointment, while you tried to stifle your giggling, caught up in the sensation of him tracing abstract patterns up and down your arms, and the idea that you could count on the ever-relaxed Felix Catton to always come to your defence. Had this been the case for years? Over a decade? Yes. Would it always make you a little bit giddy to think about? Almost definitely.
"And it's not like I'm wrong," Venetia finally broached the silence once more, "as if they don't already know our favourite flowers," she points out, before making a rather insistent noise. You bark at her command, it seems - those cheerful little yellow ones on the inner ring of flowers - dismissive, but the sound of her scoff has you correcting yourself, suddenly feeling a sting of shame and not quite knowing why.
"The chrysanthemums." The other three echo the name of the flower, one right after the other, all taking turns to turn it over in their minds and mouths as you almost burn your fingers finishing off your joint. As if trying to prove yourself, you add, interrupting them all, "Fi's are forget-me-nots."
Felix seems surprised to agree, like even he'd forgotten that detail about himself, or perhaps forgotten that he'd shared it with you, while Venetia's laughter has turned fond and knowing; it's a little condescending too, like she'd expected as much from you, but you try not to dwell on it. It's Oliver's voice that you focus on, endeared as he quietly murmurs the name of the flower to himself, like he can't quite believe something as soft as Felix having a favourite flower.
"Now I'm curious, Ollie," Felix finally speaks up, and you hear the grass shift beneath his head. He must be turning to look at the man in question, "do you have a favourite flower?" He pauses for a moment, "or is this one of our weird things, like wearing cuff-links to dinner every night?" He tries to play it off, but there's those notes of self consciousness that you're surprised he often gets when talking about tradition around Saltburn.
The grass near Oliver rustles, but your comfort overrides your intrigue to watch him.
"I think it's fox... Something?" Oliver says after a moment, "my favourite flower," he clarifies, "I haven't put much thought into it," he admits. You hum thoughtfully before asking if it could be foxglove. He confirms as much before going quiet.
There's a lull that follows in which Felix asks after Farleigh's whereabouts. Farleigh should be here, your hazy mind immediately chirps, you love Farleigh! Venetia sighs, sounding incredibly put-upon to be explaining that Farleigh was in the computer room, obsessing over his ex-boyfriend's MySpace updates that he'd missed lately. The ones about the tour.
"The guy from that Broadway show?" Felix asks with vague interest.
"No, his ex-girlfriend is touring with that Broadway musical, that he knows about, that he at least pretends he doesn't care about," Venetia corrected, "the ex-boyfriend is that one from that band, the one who wrote that song about him that got nominated for that award?"
"Grammy," you supplied automatically.
"Right," Venetia barely acknowledged you, "anyways, he's on that big, American tour with all those tragic, emo bands that are a big deal, which is apparently news to our dear cousin."
"Is that the one we were all talking about getting tickets to a few months ago?" Felix asks after a moment of silence, patting you on the arm as if his words weren't enough to get your attention. You hum in confirmation.
"I think so; The Warped Tour, we were going to make a vacation of it in LA this summer," you sighed rather forlornly at how the idea never got off the ground, "it was Anabel's idea -"
"- God, she's always been such a groupie for those kinds of boy-band-types -" Felix mutters derisively under his breath as if he hadn't spent the better part of two semesters inviting her to his dorm to listen to him play guitar knowing full well she'd practically be on her knees at the very suggestion. So of course you ignored that aside to finish your explanation.
"- except she turned around and said she hated the line up, when really she didn't want to admit her passport expired and she couldn't be bothered with the paperwork for a new one -"
"Actually," Oliver chimes in, though you're not sure if he was adding to the conversation, or if he'd even been listening, "when I was a boy I got to go to this botanical garden that had all these fancy flowers usually from the rest of the world." Oh. Flowers again? Sure. "There were these ones that got flown in from Australia, and I couldn't help thinking that they weren't worth it to fly all the way over here from Australia. Too long and curly and pointy; pretty, but not the kind that..." something about the way he speaks about the experience, about the flowers, it catches in your mind; Australian, long, curly, pointy, pretty, you tried to commit to memory, "that's worth spending your time on." He clears his throat and his tone seems almost forcibly lighter, "foxgloves are prettier, wouldn't you think? Yeah..."
Silence hangs between you all for several long, pensive moments.
"What colour were they?" You ask softly.
"Foxgloves?" Oliver knows you don't mean the foxgloves. He asks anyways. Everything always for the sake of the act, the pantomime of propriety.
"No."
"Red."
There is no more that needs to be said in the moment, but later you will be grateful when the details stick through the haze of your memories. Through the quiet, Venetia mentions how she misses the purple pincushions, how sweet and strange they were, and how cruel you have been to order the gardeners to prune the flowers before they can ever bloom.
The mere mention of those purple fucking pincushion flowers sours your mood; your one regret amongst your garden, a conceit to Felix that even he wishes he could take back knowing now how much you'd end up hating them. It's been a year since a single purple pincushion has bloomed in your garden, and you've been down here at least once a day all Summer, meticulous, pruning the bulbs yourself with much malice aforethought. Part of you is so filled with fury in this moment that you consider going over and uprooting the plants by hand right now, but Felix's arm around you, Felix's chest, solid and warm beneath your head, Felix's steady heartbeat in your ear, he grounds you.
For now you must simply remain content knowing that none of Eddie's precious, purple pincushions will ever bloom upon the grounds of the Saltburn Estate again.
"Venetia," expression pinched, you address her with far more coldness than you think you've ever directed towards her before, "shut up."
You don't remember when exactly during the day you asked Duncan to fetch you all the botany-related books in the house that made mention of plants native to the Asia-Pacific region. Knowing yourself, and knowing Duncan, however, you're not surprised by the small, neat stack you find the following evening on your desk in the lilac study.
While you fully intended on continuing your trend of wearing something provocative and continuing the pantomime of propriety with Oliver as the two of you had been doing each night for almost a week, Sir James raises the suggestion of a family movie night instead. Felix whines when Venetia and Farleigh champion the suggestion of a scary movie, and pouts when they bully Oliver into agreeing with them.
"Don't ask them," Farleigh groans when you're called upon for your opinion, "they're just going to say whatever Felix said but in a different voice," he rolled his eyes. You and Felix both choosing to flick little pieces of cantaloupe at him from your desserts does nothing but strengthen his argument.
Nobody thinks to ask Poor Dear Pamela her opinion, sitting at the end of the table, looking less than thrilled by the suggestion of The Ring, so everyone else decides that you and Felix are out numbered. On the way back to your rooms to change out of your dinner clothes, Oliver tries to apologise, and Felix tries to pretend that it's fine and he's just putting it on for Venetia and Farleigh and that he absolutely does not have the temperament of a rabbit when it came to anything scary. He is, of course, lying. But Oliver doesn't realise that just yet.
Venetia, always invigorated by a social triumph such as this, and never one to let a well-earned moment of joy pass her by, tucks her arm in Oliver's as the family meets back up in the living room. The moment is not missed by either you or Felix, who both glower at her bold display of affection as she ignores you and pulls Oliver onto the sofa. The large, plush armchair next to the sofa, with it's wide, low arms almost fits both you and Felix, though it's more of a token gesture than anything. No-one is surprised when he pulls you into his lap less than ten minutes after the film begins, arms around you and watching with his chin on your shoulder, ready to hide his face against your shoulder at a moment's notice.
When the film ends and the lights come back on, Venetia finally notices how you and her brother are sitting, and opens her mouth with malicious intent in her eyes.
"Watch it," you warned her before she could say any choice, disparaging remarks, "remember who's kept you off of What Not To Wear the past six years," you remind her; Felix, giving you a little squeeze, levels a smug smile at his older sister over your shoulder. Venetia closes her mouth, expression immediately turning.
"I can't believe they're still making that show," she spits, stalking from the room. Farleigh, finally getting up and stretching, follows her out at a far more relaxed pace.
"I can't believe they're still fighting Y/N to put you on it."
With those two having left, Elspeth and Pamela both give you curious looks, Elspeth asking if it was true. You confirmed as much with a blithe shrug, finally getting to your feet.
"Years ago one of the hosts was trying to track Ven down after seeing her on a red carpet and word got back to dad - or, well, his assistant at the time - and he remembered that I'm pretty close with the Cattons," you gave a humourless smile, offering Felix your hand to help him up from the sofa, which he gladly took, "however Ven was deeply offended when I asked her if she wanted to be on the show," Felix let himself chuckle at that, while Oliver was taking longer to stand, strange look on his face as he listened to you with surprisingly rapt attention.
"And they've been, what, continuing to ask after her even though she's said no?" Elspeth frowned, but you sighed, shaking your head.
"No, apparently Ven sent in a particularly rude letter despite me informing them of her refusal, and now dad's assistants seem to think I'm her agent and I get a call every time the show is threatening to add her photo to a montage of worst-dressed celebrities."
"Didn't she freak out when you refused to get an episode pulled when they actually did it?" Felix snorts, to which you rolled your eyes.
"That's why dad's assistants keep calling me, because of how she reacted to that episode."
You do feel a little bit bad for Venetia in this moment, when you see the resigned disappointment in both her parents' eyes at the story. The rest of you do finally filter out at this point, all heading back to your separate rooms. The walk is quiet for the most part, except for when Oliver, who'd been looking as though he was ruminating very hard on something, looks to you.
"Y/N, what does your dad do for work?"
You know and hate that Oliver sees the moment in which his question makes you uncomfortable, no matter how much you try to not let it, nor how desperately you try to hide it. Shrugging as you desperately shoot for casual, you sigh.
"I'm pretty sure your guess is as good as his," you say blithely, so casually evasive that Oliver doesn't really think to call you out on it before you get to your room. But after you and Felix wish him good night and head into your room, you close the door and slump against it with a heavy sigh. Felix lets you have this moment of respite to yourself, quietly moving about the room, getting ready for bed.
"Do you think they'll even show up?" Finally Felix breaks the silence, and you just make a vague noise, "to the dinners they told mum they'd be at," he clarified after a beat.
"Probably," you muttered, dejected at the prospect as your mind wanders to the couple who reluctantly created you.
"They asked about you," you admit to Felix quietly. From what you can hear, he stops, "mum, specifically," the memory of the phone call with your grandmother burned bright in your mind; it wasn't particularly recent, had happened at the start of your last semester, but you'd kept it to yourself for so long. You'd tried to disconnect yourself from it, tried to take solace in your grandmother's fury on your behalf, but you feel your face heat up with your own anguish, "asked how you were and if you were still living in 'that beautiful house with the Reubens and all those royal portraits'," voice trembling with both heartache and resentment, you slide down the door, tears welling even as you had your eyes squeezed tightly shut.
"Nan sounded so angry when she told me," you whispered, knees drawn up to your chest, "I've never heard her like that; she made it sound like she yelled at mum for- for- for ages -" you feel when Felix settles down beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. This is when you finally break, when you finally let yourself cry, whimpering, "but I bet mum just hung up on her the minute she felt like the fucking victim."
Felix isn't the one who needs to be apologising right now, but part of you knows you'll never get one from the people you crave it the most from. Still, he apologises with his lips against your temple. You know your best friend well enough to know his heart is breaking for you, and fuck you wish you had been strong enough to push back this breakdown, but you couldn't -
"She asked for you by name, Fi, full name," you sobbed curling up in his arms, burying yourself against him in your misery, "they haven't spoken to me or about me in eleven years; they haven't even said my name- they've acted like I don't exist to everyone - everyone - even to my own grandmother for eleven years!"
There's no easy sleep that can be found after a revelation like this, but Felix, even after he manages to drift off, is unwilling to let you go, unwilling to let you feel even the slightest bit alone for the rest of the night. It continues through the next day, even as you assure him you're fine, that you're glad for his comfort but that you've overcome the despair that had hit you so tremendously last night. It's not even much of a lie.
You spend the day with the family who'd taken you in without hesitation, and feel a swell of pride within you as you hear Oliver comment enthusiastically on the Palissy plates Sir James had always loved dearly. You yourself vaguely recall the plates getting a page to themselves in the very book you'd gifted Oliver about Saltburn, so you were glad to see him putting it to good use.
A little white lie about how deep Oliver's love for Palissy genuinely was really wouldn't hurt anyone. Honestly, it was worth it for just how brightly Sir James' eyes shined at one of Felix or Venetia's friends finally taking an interest in his antiquities like that.
But all day, Felix was never too far away. Not that he was incredibly obvious about it, at least not from anyone else's perspective, but you could tell. Quietly, you were grateful, even if you were still trying to convince the both of you that you were okay. Something about being able to just lean back and know he'll be there in times like this, times where you need him to be there but don't know how to say it out loud, is a comfort you never want to take for granted.
You want to thank him but it gets caught in your throat. But standing on his balcony as the sun sets, sharing a cigarette, you take his free hand for this one, quiet moment. Your voice is full of affection, full of thanks, full of love, too much for you to even look at him, focus kept on your hands, your fingers laced with his.
"My Felix."
"Always, love," he kisses your forehead.
That night, the only time you are without him is when you end up in the lilac study, wondering if Oliver will even show up after last night broke the tradition. Either way you'd use the time to continue to go through your botany books on the hunt for red, curly, pointy, Australian flowers. You keep seeing bottle brush but something in your heart said it wasn't right. However long you'd actually spend perusing the books tonight would depend on if you had company.
But eventually Oliver does choose to darken the doorway with that hungry-eyed stare you've never seen in the light of day, and you take your time with noticing him. Tonight you're lounging on the cream sofa in one of Felix's shirts, not even bothering to do the buttons up; you've pulled it mostly close for a pass at modesty, considering the only other thing you're wearing is underwear.
"'re you seducing me?" He sounds amused; you're surprised by how quickly he cuts to the chase, but you try not to let it show.
"Is it working yet?" You turn another page of your book before you finally look up, playing almost at boredom. Oliver, barely visible for the lamp light, the gallery beyond him nothing but shadows, huffs a laugh at that, and for reasons you can't quite understand, he drops his gaze. He breaks the moment, the rules of the game. Oliver doesn't look away, he never has before.
"You trying to get me in trouble?"
"Depends on what you consider to be trouble," your smile grows wider as you carefully set your book to the side, fixing your intrigued gaze upon Oliver properly, "perhaps I'm saving you from trouble." In a sense, the more nights you can get him to spend here with you, the less he's falling prey to Venetia's planting herself beneath his window you're sure she's doing, just as she had with Eddie a year ago. At least this time you've learned.
"I think you may very well be the trouble," Oliver looks up, just in time to see your wicked, delighted grin.
"Then I am definitely trying to get you in trouble," you don't even hesitate before firing off the inuendo, smiling wide and proud at your own quick wit. The sight of Oliver's very genuine smile and laugh catches you off guard too; it'd been so long since you'd seen it, you forgot how taken you were with him when he lit up like that. Then, as the laughter died down, Oliver walks in, he sits with you, lets you lean against him.
"You've been saying a lot of..." he hesitates, turning to you. Oliver wears a strange, lopsided smile, but from the corner of your eyes you see something reserved in his gaze as he takes in the sight of you in this moment, "generous things about me." He's too close to miss the way your breath catches. Venetia and Farleigh are dirty fucking snitches, "'s alright-" he tries, but there's clearly some kind of reservation in his voice as he staves off your stammered apology, "knew what I was getting into, didn't I?"
With Oliver's arm around you, you can't help but wonder aloud -
"Did you?"
"I thought I did," he admitted softly, and you tipped your head onto his shoulder, then you feel him shift, feel his lips on your forehead and voice soft, "I think I thought I'd be alright anywhere if I was with Felix." For reasons you try very hard not to think about in this moment, Oliver's words sting.
"Oh," it almost gets caught in your throat; your traitorous heart sinks in your chest for just a moment. Except Oliver gives you a squeeze, holds you tight as he seems to realise his mistake.
"Of course you're a given," it almost salvages the moment, and of course you feel as though you have to act like it does, but there's something tight and unfamiliar balling up in your chest. "Felix loves you," Oliver sounds almost wistful, words coming out more like a faint breath, but perhaps it's this strange new feeling in your chest that makes him harder to read in this moment.
"He loves you too, Ollie," you tell him, forcing yourself to inject some levity into the moment. This time it's you who moves, who turns your face to Oliver, forehead against his as you muster up the warmest smile you can manage, pressing against him, making a show of overwhelming affection, "we both do," of course, your tone says, obviously.
And Oliver actually giggles at that, so it must work. In the next moment he's pulled you into his lap. It's so easy for you to readjust, to fit in his arms, in his space, against him, like it's where you were always meant to be.
"Is that you talkin' or Felix talkin'?" Oliver asks finally when you've got your arms settled around his neck, "I don't mind, I'd just like to know."
"What 'd you mean?" You ask, curious about the wording and it's implications. Oliver visibly hesitates, though he seems more embarrassed for whatever was about to come out of his mouth than anything else.
"Speakin' with Venetia made me realise how little I actually know about you," Oliver says carefully. Almost immediately your expression sours, and a long, exasperated sigh is pulled from you, "she's a deeply confusing woman, isn't she?" He adds almost like an afterthought, and you barked a quiet laugh.
"That is a very kind way of putting it," you offered diplomatically after a beat, before letting go of Oliver and leaning yourself back against the arm of the sofa, considering your next words carefully. His hands come to rest on your stomach, but you're surprised when he does up two of the buttons of Felix's shirt, providing you with a little more modesty. Then, his hands come to rest on your stomach and thighs, warm and unmoving.
"You're a deeply confusing individual yourself," Oliver pushes softly, "when I think about you too much, I realise there's not much to think about, least nothin' you've told me," and you hum noncommittally, looking up at the ceiling. The next words that escape you are from a script you'd thought was long buried.
"Yeah but that's kind of the point; I'm not really meant to matter, or be looked at, or thought about -" the words seem to shock even you, eyes going wide as you look to Oliver. The intensity of his stare has your heart hammering against your ribs as you try to back pedal, "sorry- that's not- I mean- sorry, that's really not, anymore that is -" you didn't even believe that anymore, right? Your place in the world as impressed upon you by your own parents for the first ten years of your life. Surely having spent more time by now with Felix and the Cattons than you ever had with them was enough to rewrite a good deal of the cruel way in which you'd been hardwired.
Oliver reaches out, caressing your cheek with that confident smile he only ever seemed to wear when the sun couldn't see him. He tells you that you matter, with absolute sincerity. Then, expression lightening to something fond, even teasing, he warns you not to let Felix catch you talking like that, that his love for you was the kind that would have him throwing a parade just to prove that self-doubt wrong. It was a nice mental image, if only for a moment. You, Oliver, Felix, not necessarily a parade for you per say, but a mess of colour and joy and music in the city, together and happy and -
"I don't know if you'd want that," Oliver's grin is fading, and finally you sit back up, let yourself be wrapped up in him as he continues to trail his fingers across the edge of your face, down your throat, across your collar, "but then again Venetia thinks you don't even know how."
"How what?" Voice barely more than a whisper, you know he can feel how quick your heart's beating, his hand flat and warm on your sternum.
"How to want for yourself, 'least not anything outside of Felix," he keeps his gaze trained on his hand, heel of his palm pressing firmer just over your heart, "which is why I asked; you said you loved me, is that you or Felix talking when you say that?" And finally he looks at you. That tight, sharp feeling in your chest spikes when he meets your gaze. He looks so earnest, so open, so ready for either answer.
But you stand, leaving both yourself, and Oliver's lap cold, but hoping your smile is warm enough compensation. Except you can hear in his voice that he believes Venetia; she'd confirmed what he'd suspected, it's what he left unsaid the night you'd slept with each other. The only thing you wanted was so easily met; to be wanted, and seemingly content with nothing more outside of Felix. A contented sycophant, easy to please and happy to be used; you knew the world was happy with this being your place in it.
And the more you think about it, the more you think Oliver is too.
"Of course it's Felix," you tell him what you're almost certain he wants to hear. No need to scare him off with the expectations of your own feelings on his shoulders. Oliver watches you for a long moment, simply observing as you smile wider, and hope that it comes across as adoring, "which means of course I do love you too, that's a given, Ollie." The sharp discomfort is scraping at your ribs, more painful with each word, hollowing out your chest moment by moment, so you bid him good night, unable to bare the conversation for much longer.
"Just one favour, by the way, if you could," you add by the door. He makes a noise of intrigue, but you can't even bring yourself to look at him. It'll be another just person looking at a placeholder while they're waiting for Felix to be ready to love them back. Usually you don't mind. Usually it's enough and you can still enjoy their company and have your fun. But they aren't Oliver Quick, "just... please refrain from properly fooling around with Venetia? I know I sound like a hypocrite but," you take a deep breath, smiling wide enough that you don't even have to see Oliver, "it kind of goes back well beyond just you."
The next morning, stopping into the study before you head down to breakfast, you intend to collect the book you'd finally found those red flowers in. Top of your pile, you'd left it open on the very page. But you find that someone has turned the page. Scabious, in full bloom, mocking you, surely.
The botany book lay like a bitter seductress on your desk, left open, pages spread and staring up at you; purple fucking pincushions.
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txttletale · 6 months
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idk how to put this sorry if this comes off as rude/confrontational I'm not trying to be — when you say stories about forgiveness/reconciliation, do you mean more the type about forgiving & reconciling with family, or more generally (so like including - this isn't the best example but I can't think of any better rn - catra for example? where it's about being trapped in hurting people because of trauma and breaking out of that)? or is the thing you dislike more stories' framing of forgiveness as a moral imperative?
sorry if this doesn't make sense I'm just curious what you think bc you've raised some interesting points and would really like to see you elaborate on them
don't worry you don't come off as rude whatsoever! while i think my points apply broadly to how forgiveness is treated across media (rare actual example of cultural christianity) -- i obviously am not, like, against forgiveness or stories about forgiveness on principle. what i dislike about all the narratives about people forgiving their abusive parents is that:
like you said, it's always framed as a moral imperative. there is always an underlying assumption that forgiving the abuser is the 'right' and 'correct' thing to do, that not doing so would be wrong. this is tremendously insulting to survivors who have every right to not forgive their abusers!
in most of these narratives, the parent barely does shit to be forgiven. there's very often a narrative equivocation, in fact, between parent and child. like, sometimes the parent won't even be expected to apologize -- sometimes, even more grotesquely, both the parent and child apologize for their shared supposed 'wrongdoing'. this is also obviously insulting to survivors, who are not in any way responsible for their abuse or for having a poor relationship with their parents.
the reason why this in particular pisses me off so much is that it mirrors and in turn contributes to the cultural expectation on abuse victims in real life to maintain contact with their abusers, the constant casual pressure from everything from strangers to friends to acquaintances saying 'well, can't you just put it behind you?' or 'look, he's changed' or 'she's your mom' or 'you'll only have one chance to have a relationship with your siblings' or whatever the fuck. the sanctity of the family is a cardinal value across a lot of societies and this sanctity means a constant, neverending societal pressure to bow to sweeping abuse under the rug. i've seen many people i care about struggle deeply with feeling obligated to maintain relationships with family members who treat them like shit and make htem miserable every time they interact bc of exactly these sorts of sentiments being everpresent in their cultural environment. & these narratives always paint that sort of pressure as being well-founded and fair and ultimately for the better, which is absolutely repellent to me.
so, yeah. i am not against narratives where an abusive person actually confronts their actions and changes and repairs that relationship (that's another fucking thing, these narratives always put the onus and responsiblity on the character who was abused to forgive rather than on the abuser to earn forgiveness, just like in real life familial abuse victims are always fucking expected to be the ones to repair the relationship). i think such narratives can be powerful and compelling and explore questions of what the value of 'forgiveness' or 'redemption' even are, as well as dispel the mystique and exceptionalism often attributed to the 'abuser' as a holistic malevolent figure that can be cleanly separated from every other parent/grandparent/sibling/etc.
what i'm against is narratives where someone who is abused has their feelings delegitimized -- their rage is wrong, counterproductive, they need to let go and move on, they need to forgive their abusers and let them back int otheir lives because oh, they did something wrong too or oh, their abuser had a difficult life, or whatever the fuck. to which the answer should be a flat -- no. they don't. all the more power to people who choose to do that if that's what makes them happiest and safest but absolutely nobody has a moral obligation or need to forgive an abusive family member. obviously i am exaggerating slightly when i say every abusive parent subplot should end with the parent being killed with hammers, but i'm using the hammer murder as a synechdoche for a narrative treating an abuse victim's antipathy towards their abuser as something legitimate and justified and obviously reasonable rather than a flaw or something they need to move past.
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chiffiorra · 9 months
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╰┈➤ Come Here a Little Closer
➜ Synopsis: When you decided to shop for some cute sundresses, you never anticipated him to react this way. He, however, couldn't wait any longer.
➜ Pairings: Boyfriend!Keiji Akaashi x fem!reader
➜ This Fic Contains the Following: Established relationship, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, Akaashi is a sweet but impatient boyfriend, reader is a lil hesitant but gives in after like a couple seconds lmao, breeding, creampie, allusions to almost getting caught, no beta i'm going in by myself y'all, word vomit part 100 (jkjk)
➜ WC: 1,805
➜ Note: it's funny how i was randomly listening to a fave song and the title came to me this way lmao. but anywaaays this was part of the sundress season collab by the amazing @saintshiba! i'm so sorry this took so long my love, forgive me? 🥺💚 but yeah stan akaashi and i think i put my whole cotton candussy into this but hey- can you blame me?
➜ Song as Inspiration: Hella Good - No Doubt
➜ Taglist: @enchantedforest-network
➜ Also Posted on Ao3: here
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“Well, what do you think?” Was what he heard at first, and he saw you step out of the fitting room. 
All day he had accompanied you on your shopping trip without complaint. He had none whatsoever as the two of you went from store to store, checking out new outfits that were brand new or on sale for the warm season. 
Looking at the dress you wore, Akaashi remembered you musing to him once that you needed more sundresses for when the weather was lovely. And this one? Well, something about this one dress didn't help this rising feeling inside him. 
The one you were currently showing off to him was… wow. That was the one best word he could describe it. The floral-patterned sundress in question was one in your favorite color. It was a long spaghetti strap dress, just brushing against your ankles. It also revealed a bit of your cleavage, making it hard for him to avert his eyes away. The cherry on top was the dress also having a slit on the side, revealing your leg whenever you playfully posed for him.
"Love?" Your voice snaps him out of his staring, "What do you think?" 
He hummed in response as he reached for one of the straps of your dress and began fiddling with it, making goosebumps arise on your skin. It was amazing how the littlest things he does can have such an effect on you. 
"It looks good, it really suits you," he added, his fingers now deciding to trail from your shoulder down to your wrist, causing more goosebumps to appear on your skin. To anyone else, this scene may look innocent from a distance. But to you, you knew your boyfriend well. And when he locked eyes with you, you knew that look very well: he wanted to devour you. 
All day he carried your bags without you even asking him, and even paid for some of your items despite your protests. But trying on clothes and modeling just for him, including the racier ones? It was getting harder to fight back the urge deep inside as time went on.
You didn't resist when he gently pushed you back into the fitting room, but this made you worried: right here and now? In a clothing store?
Sensing your hesitation, Akaashi gently stroked your cheek and leaned in to brush his lips against your ear so no one else from outside the room would hear what he would say. “I just can’t help myself… but say the word and I’ll stop,” he murmured, causing your heart to skip a beat.
“I want this,” you would quietly say back to him, pulling him closer to you. Your hands would go under his shirt and rub at his back, lightly dragging your nails along. This time it was his turn to have goosebumps form on his skin. 
Without warning, he crashed his lips onto yours and his hands would roam along your body. One hand taking hold of both of your wrists and the other lifting up your dress to reveal your panties to him. As he pulled away from the kiss, he would then let go of your wrists so he could kneel down and reveal more of you to him. Knowing what he was going to do, you held up your dress so he could pull your panties down your legs to reveal your core to him, which was already starting to glisten.
It made him smirk, “Already? Does being in here where anyone can hear us get you so excited?” He said, running a finger up and down your slit. You could only whimper in response.
Akaashi then glanced up at you, “Try not to make too much noise, yeah? You really don’t want us to get banned from your favorite store, do you?” He then gave a tiny kitten lick to your clit, prompting a small gasp to escape from your lips. 
To keep any employee or nosy customer hearing what was going on, you immediately covered your mouth with your hand as he kept going; his licks at your clit turning into sucking and inserting a finger into you, thrusting in and out slowly. 
Maybe he was right, the thought of getting caught was exciting. The thought of someone possibly hearing what your boyfriend was doing to you sent shivers down your spine in the best way possible. And to think that it was a sundress you planned on buying that was the final push for him. 
Akaashi continued pleasuring you, one finger now turned into two and slow thrusting now turning into fast and rough. It felt like you were on fire, and you closed your eyes as you did your best to hide your pants and moans from the outside. While you felt like you were in complete bliss, you couldn’t forget that you were still in the dressing room. You didn’t want to do the walk of shame after being so noisy after all. It especially didn’t help that you heard someone walking by the dressing room you were given. Were they able to hear what was going on as they went on their way? 
You tightened around his fingers, signaling that you were so close to giving in to release. He was pushing you closer and closer to the edge and it was getting harder to fight against it. 
Until he stopped and pulled his fingers out.
Looking down at him angrily, you were greeted by Akaashi’s smirking face and a glint in his eye. Noting the expression on your face, he responded, “Poor baby, do you wanna cum on my tongue or would you rather it be on my cock instead?”
The angered expression on your face soon disappeared at the question as well as the hand covering your mouth. “I… I want to cum on your cock,” you said. The ache from being denied your orgasm almost hurts as you clenched around nothing.
“Good girl,” you heard him whisper as he stood up to his full height and began to strip you of your dress. The dress that caused it all. 
Feeling the cool air hit your now bare body, you shivered. But Akaashi’s body draping over yours warmed you up immediately. Pushing his pants and underwear down at the same time to reveal his cock, it made your mouth water, but that part was going to have to wait for another time. You needed him now and you knew he felt the same.
Rubbing his length under your slit made you bite back a moan and him shuddering out a quiet sigh as he used your slick to lube him up. In no time, you felt him push into you slowly. “Fuck…” you felt him sigh out as he began filling you up to the brim. 
‘Finally,’ you thought to yourself, eyes fluttering closed.
After waiting for you to get used to him, Akaashi wasted no time pumping into you. With such a move being unexpected, you gasped. He quickly placed a hand over your mouth to keep any noises from spilling out and risk someone hearing you. 
A moan that would’ve escaped your lips ended up muffled against his hand as he fucked you. You felt like you were already on cloud nine as you felt your climax slowly begin to rise up again after being wrongfully denied before. 
Raising your leg up with his free arm so he could fuck you deeper, he picked up the pace, removing his hand from your mouth so he could kiss you deeply. Moaning and panting into his mouth; you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing his still clothed body against yours.
As the two of you kept going, all you could think was ‘more’. All you wanted was more. You wanted more of him, more of his body warmth against yours, more of his kisses, more of everything from him. You simply couldn’t get enough of him, and you couldn’t stop. He was all yours. 
You felt the knot inside you ready to snap soon, so you chose to grind back into his thrusts, ready to give into the bliss awaiting you at the end. “Kei-... Keiji-! I’m so close… please,” you breathed against his lips as you both pulled away, “let me-” you couldn’t even finish your sentence as you bit your lip, trying your best to hold back a moan. Even more so as you felt him lick and bite at your neck as he leaned in, you were still in public after all. This made him smirk against your neck in response, sensing you ready to let go.
You felt yourself clench and unclench on him, closer and closer to the end. With that coming, you covered your mouth, knowing that you were definitely not going to be silent for this one. 
It especially didn’t help that you heard chatting in the fitting room next door, one sound from you and it would be all over. Too bad Akaashi wasn’t going to make it any easier on you as you felt his thumb rub against your clit, guiding you to your release. “Cum for me, baby… cum for me,” he panted in your ear. 
You felt your eyes roll back slightly as you felt yourself cream all over him, keeping any noise muffled lest anyone caught on along with your free hand tightly gripping onto his shirt. It was a miracle no one came knocking on the door to ask what was going on. You could already imagine the stares you were gonna deal with once you stepped out.
Your thoughts were interrupted by him biting down on your neck to muffle a groan as you felt him cum inside and fill you up. You sighed as you felt him rock against you to ride your orgasms out and the kisses he would leave against your neck.
“I love you,” you whispered to him, holding him close to you again as you felt him slowly pull out, feeling his cum leak out of you. He would press a kiss on your lips before speaking.
“I love you too,” he replied. You jolted and let out a gasp as he once again rubbed your clit despite you already finishing. 
You pushed his hand away, playfully glaring. “No more, we’d be really pushing it at this point!” you said, all the while he gave you a mischievous smile in return.
“So, I take it you like the dress, right?” You teasingly added, giggling as you saw his cheeks begin to burn. But he never looked away from your gaze as his hands ran up and down your bare sides.
“I do, you should take that one. It might be my favorite out of everything you brought.”
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kingmagnificoofrosas · 4 months
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Why I don't "ship" them
Ok, before anyone comes running me down, please hear me out! I have solid points to make here! I Promise!!!!
Btw, I'm absolutely ok with people disagreeing, but please, if you want to critique me in the comments, do it nicely! I won't tolerate any rudeness. My blog is a safe space and it should stay that way 💙
‼️Now, of course, like with all my analyses, this one is also based on my very own observation and my personal opinion. Also note, I don't hate Amaya! I hated her actions and dislike her for it. And I have very high standarts when it comes to romance‼️
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We are told that these guys are married. Ok. Good. Nice. Naturally you then expect to actually see solid poof that tells us (audience) that this is true. After all, disney has a veeeery long history of displaying true love/soulmates, so this should be no different right? Right? Wrong! Let me tell you why!
I payed very close attention to Magnifico and Amaya throughout the whole movie and there was 0 romantic tension whatsoever! Love is displayed in actions and words, and actions there were none. At least none that had me believing they are more than close friends the least. Even my Mom was utterly confused as to what they even are to each other. In my Mom's words : "Anything but a married couple! More like brother and sister."
Let me explain why I believe that we have a marriage of convinience here.
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First of all, Amaya calls Magnifico "Mi Rey" all the time. This is spanish btw and means "My king" And she doesn't even say it in a romantic way, she calls him that like any other person in the kingdom would.
Now, my Dad made the point that back in the days people of high status didn't call each other by surnames, but Magnifico does! He calls her Amaya. So that arguement falls. Also, others are all calling Magnifico either by his name or they say "King Magnifico" so her not calling him by his surename in private is odd.
Of course, not everyone uses romantic nicknames but I think it's just weird that Amaya never calls him anything but 'king' and later to Asha and the others she says "Magnifico". It makes no sense.
She's hardly ever around him in private.
And if she is, she does what she does when in public as well. She mostly just stands around. The most touch we see her give is her placing her hand on his shoulder! No hugs, no caressing the cheek, no loving gestures. Please, any polite human being can place a hand on someones shoulder or give a smile. My dog shows more empathy when I'm in distress than Amaya does to her husband.
Her support is the worst! Literally!
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You'd think she knows her "husband" right? You'd think if he's upset, she'd do her best to calm him down and support him, right?
Well, after "Star" appears, his light floods Rosas and Magnifico panics, all Amaya does is telling him to breathe. No : "Hey, I know you're upset and scared, I understand, lets talk about it and try to find a solution together!" I mean, he's told her earlier that he thinks he's being threatened. (Clear PTSD response here)
We saw how Magnifico reacted to "breathe!" She could have given him a hug and told him something more soothing. She could have taken his hands and shown him, she cares. She should, after all, know that he's traumatized. She should know why he reacts the way he does and help him get through it.
The fact alone that the first thing Magnifico does when he's upset is to withdraw himself to figure his problems out on his own rather than seek his spouse for comfort tells me a lot!
Yes, she asks him to put the book down by telling him it's bad and he needs to protect himself, and he does in the end, but what she does then makes me facepalm myself.
Get this, Magnifico's ptsd causes him to panic, he wants to protect himself and his subjects/kingdom and Amaya tells him "Look at your people, they love you because you're their handsome king."
You good Amaya? Your husband just had a panic attack and your best reply to that is, "Breathe, your people love you and you're handsome." ? What in the good grief kinda advice to panic is "you are handsome" ? And mind you, his subjects are one of the very reasons he even panics in the first place!
But of course he reacts nicely, cause he is a sweetheart.
And her not wanting him to get posessed by the book isn't a solid proof she loves him. It only tells us she cares for him. Not how much. And also, she might know that should he get posessed, things are going down.
So what about the hand kiss then?
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I'm tired of people taking this little scene as proof for everything. It's a moment of affection. But enough to make me buy they truly love each other? Nah.
A kiss to the top of the hand used to be the bare minimum form of respect a man could pay a woman. Women would have even held their hands out for men to kiss as a form of demanding respect.
We could have gotten a real kiss. If not on the lips, on the cheek, on the forehead, anything that clearly shows us, yes, they love each other. But no. And also, the patting? He patted her hand like I pat my dogs head and the kiss was more a quick peck. Imagine Magnifico would have lingered for 3 seconds, held eye contact or looked at Amaya a little while longer, now that would have been romantic tension, that would have told me, there are solid feelings there!
Yes, in english he calls her "my love" but in german he says "my dear" which you could call anyone as a form of being nice! And even if he meant it in a affectionate way, his actions don't add up to it.
If you say you love someone, you prove it with actions. If there is no action to prove words, it's just not true. And no, even people who have a hard time expressing their emotions do show they love you in their own ways. So let's move on and examine Magnifico's behavior more.
Again, he doesn't seek her comfort! He rather runs across half his castle to let out his thoughts and emotions than talk to her. That means, he doesn't trust her enough. He doesn't feel safe enough to show his vunerability in her presence, open up, vent, cry and let out his feelings. But he should! You should be able to do that in a marriage. He calls her "my love" but other than that? Do his actions underline what he says? No.
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If you didn't agree with the above so far, I have this 👇🏼
He knew she'd betray him! He sent out Simon instead of going on his own.
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If she were his true love/soulmate, he wouldn't have even spent a single thought about if she could eventually betray him. If you truly love someone, you don't betray them like a snap of a finger. Of course ptsd people have trust issues but Amaya is said to be his "loyal wife"
Loyal my butt!
The first thing she did after he snapped wasn't try everything in her might to get him back and safe him, no, she immediately ran to Asha and her teenage friends and was like, "Oh, I'm sick and tired of him, I've seen so many horrors, I suffered so bad. Yup, he's evil, let's destroy him." (Yes, literally! I'm pointing at that "trample the cookie to pieces" scene ...)
She sings : I've seen too many bad things that I can't keep count!
Huh? Like what please? All of the sudden she acts as if he'd been abusing her all the time. He never called her names, never threated her badly (until he became posessed by the evil in the book that is) he never raised his hand to her. He even told her he's lucky to have her, which (pfff. What did she even do besides sitting and standing still and look pretty?)
Look at what's going on here. And study the facial expressions, please. Magnifico is tired here. He's tired, annoyed, disappointed and upset at his subjects and Amaya is straight up confused. Look at her. She cannot understand why he's so upset.
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The situation escaletes, he storms away and she tells him "they question you because you make them feel safe enough to do so."
*holding my laugh right here* Again, what a way to trample into a wound!
Subjects questioning their king is normal in a way, but right here, Magnifico is on the edge of his nerves anyway and she might have aimed to calm him but in the absolute wrong way! If you as "wife" know that your husband has ptsd, and is venting or reacting to a trigger, you don't go talking about that trigger even further. People with ptsd will understand me here. Even if someone means well, if you keep talking about the very thing that just triggered a ptsd response, you're making it worse!
She could have told him, "They're just as confused about the situation as you are. You are their king and they look up to you. I'm sure they didn't mean to question you in a bad way."
But anyway, he pushes her away, saying he doesn't want to be disturbed. Which, ok, sometimes you need to cool down on your own but he does that every single time. And she just runs along clueless and helpless like some sort of servant.
To be fair, people with ptsd/c-ptsd are difficult to handle. Even in a relationship of true love, it's not always easy. But with Amaya and Magnifico, I'm looking at the whole picture and not just a single moment. I looked at every moment we get in the movie and how they react and behave.
Amaya was all smiles until the moment he snapped. Then all of the sudden, yes, he's an evil monster! And oh, her too ignoring the fact that he got ptsd and that it's the evil that has a hold of him now that makes him go bonkers, nice! So much for : in good and in bad times.
Amaya - "The good in him, I watched it melt."
Yes, that is exactly the problem! She watched! Magnifico was suffering and she watched! Also the good was only swapped because he got posessed by evil, lady Sherlock.
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Furthermore, when she and Dahlia look into the evil book, and Dahlia states the book says that once posessed by the evil magic, there is no going back forever. And Amaya doesn't bat a lash. Excuse me? What ever the heck happened to : true love breaks any curse? True love's kiss breaks any spell? We even had true love tears breaking curses! (Tangled and frozen)
Amaya didn't even shed one singe tear. None. At this point, Asha cried more over the situation than Amaya did. Just how quickly she was ok with everything, how quickly she accepted the situation ....
Heck, if he'd been her true love, things would have looked way different. Yes, disney tried to pull the "but he's the villain" card, but I don't buy that for a second. They could have made her heartbroken at least but she even snapped at him after he was on the edge. It's him who betrayed everyone. The evil magic book is suddenly forgotten. No, no, no! Ya'll backstabbing him and ignoring the fact he's got PTSD got him into this shit situation in the first place. And if AMAYA hadn't totally failed at being a good wife, Magnifico most likely wouldn't have even gotten as far!
But, the answer is simple. She doesn't love him! Or at least not nearly enough! When she sang, I was fooled by the love I felt, I was like 🤨? What exactly did you love, dear? His handsome looks? His magic? The only praise we saw her give him was when he did magic. When he did magic and or granted wishes she cheered like a child but other than that? Nothing like, "I see how much you give, how hard you try to protect us all everyday. I wish I could help you more, take some of that burden from your shoulders or at least carry it with you."
And if you're still not convinced, this tops it all! 👇🏼
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Again, no tears, no sadness, nothing. She even approaches the whole situation with humor! And then she picks the mirror up like a dead rat on its tail and proudly declares "to the dungeons with him!" Not at all a reaction from a wife who truly "loves/loved" her husband.
She gives the tiny mirror away like a trashbag.
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So to add things up. There is nothing to prove they truly loved each other. Cared for one another to a certain degree, yes. Magnifico at least showed a sprinkle of affection but on the other hand, he's a gentleman.
So, no, I personally will never ship them. I love Magnifico and the fact that Amaya wrote him off as easy as shrugging off a bug from your shoulder upsets me. 😬
He deserves so much better! He deserves true love. He deserves a healthy relationship full of compassion, support and guidance. He deserves respect and acknowledgement. He deserves healing!
Give that poor ptsd suffering man a break!
~
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ohitsjustgen · 3 months
Text
Gojo x Reader
"You don't want this and I know you don't, women can never hide their feelings well, can they?" He jokes which it immediately earns him a glare to which he holds up his hands defensively.
"Hold on sugar, it's for the good of our clans isn't it? I think we should think of it that way. You don't HAVE to love me but just pretend you do." The white haired man says while shrugging.
The two of you, being the next heads of your respective clans, have been forced into an arranged marriage. It was supposedly made to help "build bonds".
Your eyes are filled with fury at the mere word 'sugar'. You wanted to punch his smooth, pale face right then and there. But this idiot was necessary for the sake of your clan and it's future so, you had to hold back.
Gojo saw the look on your face and chuckled before reaching out his hand. You wanted to tell him to shove it but you knew it wasn't 'proper' so you reluctantly shook it.
"By the way, my names y/n not
'sugar'."
you say taking your hand back. The corner of his mouth tugged upward into a smirk.
"It's a habit of mines I suppose, although it's a cute nickname, is it not?" He teased not caring about the visible annoyance. In fact he finds your irritation amusing.
You walk away knowing that if this conversation continues for longer you would most likely burst into a fit of rage. While going into the kitchen you grab a cup of wine, a wine glass and a seat. You sit at the table and pour the maroon colored liquid till it reached the rim.  Gojo, who is not too far behind, follows you into the kitchen and leans onto the modern fridge, eyeing your every movement. Despite his confident outward demeanor, his insecurities were starting to surface. The blue eyed man hoped this wouldn't be as difficult as everyone said it would be.
Usually all the girls would be gawking over him, and normally he would ignore them. He likes the attention. But you're the very first girl to have no interest in him whatsoever. Technically, this was forced, but who knows, maybe you can have a change of heart?
"So" you say finally breaking the silence.
"How long does this shit hole of a marriage last?" He raises his eyebrow at this question but response with:
"Until one of us dies, or breaks the agreement. Though if we play our cards right it'll be over in no time." He brushes his pure white hair back with his pale hand.
"Great now I have to deal with you for the rest of my life" You mumble under your breath and roll your eyes.
"The feeling is mutual" was his snarky reply. His lips curl up into a horrific grin.
"And besides, I don't bite~"
You shudder at his response. Directing your gaze away from his pearly white canines, You examine the man in his standing position, actually getting a good look at him this time. He was fairly tall, maybe 5'8? The only times you'll see him is when he had that black satin cloth over his eyes. You were amazing when you first gotten a glance at him. When your parents introduced each other. His eyes are a beautiful crystal blue. You've never seen any eyes like his before. Makes him stand out from the rest. But as you've learned before: All guys are the same.
"Hasn't your parents told you it's quite rude to stare?" Asks the man giving another snarky remark.
You avert your gaze and take a sip of your wine.
"So what exactly do we have to do?" You ask ignoring his question.
"Oh that's the easy part, you and I just have to pretend that we're madly in love in public and then I guess I'll try to win your favor in the privacy of our own space, simple as that" he says fiddling with his snowy white hair.
You get up from your seated position and take your glass with you. "So what I'm hearing is, I don't have to put up with your childish antics." You waltz into a spare bedroom and lock the door behind you.
Despite the situation at hand he found your outburst rather entertaining. He sits outside the room leaning his head against the door, waiting for you to eventually come out.
__________________________
It takes a few hours but you eventually come out to eat. You're just as stubborn as he thought you'd be.
"Ah, there you are darling, it took you long enough" the white haired man says dusting off his trousers.
You come out of the room completely changed. Wearing a hoodie and some shorts you found. Not something you'd usually wear but it'll do for now. Your hair, semi wet from when you took a shower, was the first thing Gojo touches as a sign of affection. Just to see if you'd allow it. Which you did.
"I'm just a bit hungry, I'm not out here for you" you say coldly
"Well that's fine, but it just so happens that I've already prepared a meal for you"
He takes your wrist and drags you to the kitchen.
_______________________
While Gojo places a plate in front of you filled with (your favorite dish) and a cold glass of water next to the plate, you both exchange glances.
"How do you know my favorite food?" You ask reluctantly
"I happen to know a lot about you y/n"
Well that took you by surprise.
First he calls you by your actual name and not some cringe nickname, and second he knows your favorite food?? Who is this guy?? Have you known each other before? Crossed each other's past? Who knows.
With a sly smile he gestures at your plate wanting you to eat. You weren't sure if you should be genuinely impressed or creeped the fuck out. The lack of information you've given him made you wonder how well he really knew you.
"Hm" was the only thing you hum as you brought the fork to your mouth, letting the food slide off the fork and onto your tongue
"Not bad, although it needs a little seasoning"
"So?, not bad for my first time?" He says grinning.
"Nope not bad, not bad at all"
A/N: Part 2 coming soon 🫶🏾
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the-final-sif · 1 year
Note
Hiya! I just saw the QSMP post you made and I have a genuine question! If you can't answer me yourself, it's totally fine, it's just that you seemed to know something about this.
I'm from central Europe, and looking at the mob from the modpack, I never would have guessed that it was offensive in any way whatsoever. To me it just looked like a fantasy creature based on tribes or very very old human history (like uhh.. neanderthals for example). My question is, what part of the mob is offensive? Is it based on something that exists? I'm just really trying to see what I should avoid for future reference. Again, I absolutely mean no harm, this was just my first time hearing about this.
Hello!
So, first up, I want to say that nothing I'm going to go into next should be taken with any sort of malice. It's really really good that when you saw something and didn't understand it and you went to ask questions to understand the topic better! That's wonderful! I am very proud of you for taking that step!
I will also preface this discussion with a general disclaimer that I am white, the reason I've made these posts is because native people who I follow and am friends with were hurt by the really racist portrayal but didn't feel comfortable risking harassment. I am completely fine with risking harassment, and I want my friends' hurt to be acknowledged and addressed. That being said, there's millions upon millions of different indigenous people from all different places and backgrounds. They live all over the world and they are not a single unified voice. My goal here is to just give a rough overview of some of the basics.
That being said, when you say "it just looked like a fantasy creature based on tribes or very very old human history (like uhh.. neanderthals for example)." that's honestly kind of a big part of why this imagery is so racist. Because it is based on tribes. It's a racist conglomerate of indigenous/tribal cultures that all get bundled into an age old racist "savages" trope. These cultures are not dead, they are not gone, they are not primitive or a relic of history, and they deserve the same respect as any other culture.
"savages" and "brutes" are both extremely racist stereotypes of indigenous cultures. Through history it's been used to justify colonization and genocide throughout the world. Nowadays, people often attempt to portray tribes and indigenous cultures as either gone or archaic. Just a thing of history. Ignoring the fact that there are still people that belong to these cultures who deserve to have their histories treated with respect & to not have their cultures and images treated like some sort of monster.
The mobs in question have a stereotypical "tribal" look to them, and they attack players on sight that don't look like them (until you murder them and take their masks). The resemblance was bad enough that the streamers I heard were all calling these "natives". It was very obvious what they were supposed to represent. An idea of native people as primitive savages that player can (and are encouraged to) murder without consequence or feeling bad for their actions.
In fact, in order to be able to trade with or not be attacked by the mobs, you have to murder them to get their masks. It's really bad. You can also murder and enslave their "Chief". Which is. Bad. It's really bad.
Now, just to be clear, Quackity/the other streamers didn't create the mod. However, it should've never been added to the server, and streamers should address the way that they reacted to the mobs. FitMC in particular reacted very racistily and clearly knew what he was mocking when he did.
Overall, this mob is a deeply racist stereotype, and while it's inclusion was probably accidental, it's still very important that Quackity be an adult about it, take responsibility, apologize & set out a plan going forward so this doesn't happen again. That's his job as the owner of the server. FitMC also needs to apologize for the comments that he made and do better in the future, or Quackity needs to remove him from the server because that shit really wasn't okay.
Hopefully that's helpful? It's something that's kinda hard to explain how racist the imagery is because of how bad it is.
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sensitiveheartless · 6 months
Text
20 questions for fic writers!
Tagged by @feralrookie! :D Thank you for the tag!!
1. How many works do you have on ao3?
10! (technically, kinda)
2. What's your total ao3 word count?
379,547
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Just Bungou Stray Dogs! It's also the first fandom I've written for, actually. :D
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
This is how it feels to take a fall (Dazai goes feral, time shenanigans)
Plate :( (Dazai breaks a plate, experiences emotions)
Dazai and the Moving Detective Agency (Howl's Moving Castle AU)
Chuunyaa's Pawsitively Catastrophic Day (Chuuya is turned into a cat, it's short and pretty much just shenanigans)
Wish in one hand (First fic I wrote, and the first one I posted — Dazai has emotions about handholding)
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
I try to, but I've been absolutely terrible at it lately — whenever I'm particularly stressed I start worrying that the negative emotions are going to leak through into what I'm writing and make my tone sound weird, so then I end up turtling in on myself and not saying anything at all, no matter how much I want to engage with people. It's a bad habit, and I want to work on it, so I'm gonna try to catch up on comments! (I treasure every single one of the ones I receive, so for anyone who has left a comment and hasn't gotten a response from me yet, thank you and I am very sorry about my inability to form words in a timely manner skdjfksd)
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Probably An Unsent Letter, since it's pretty much just a short snippet of Dazai being sad while he's leaving the mafia. And even with that one, I have in my head that skk still get together after the four years apart, I just didn't write it. I am dreadful with sad endings — although the ending to "This is how it feels to take a fall" is a little bittersweet, perhaps.
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Hmm...I'm gonna say Dazai and the Moving Detective Agency, because it's the one with the longest buildup, so I think it has the most catharsis, at least for me! But I tend to give all of my fics happy endings because, as established, I am a wimp when it comes to hardcore angst. I will say that Zut Alors I Have Missed One is probably a contender for happiest as well, just because that fic had no angst whatsoever and was just Unhinged
8. Do you get hate on fic?
Nope! Everyone's been lovely! I have gotten some for my art, but honestly it was pretty toothless and I couldn't take it seriously lol
9. Do you write smut?
...Yeh. :0 There was an attempt, at least — one fic, and I made it anonymous (so on the extreme off-chance that anyone notices a discrepancy between my total ao3 wordcount listed here and the summed up wordcounts of the fics viewable on my profile, that's why!) It's also another fic I need to finish, I hit my writing roadblock with that one at the same time as all my others, and it's almost doneeee I just need my brain to cooperate >:|
10. Do you write crossovers?
Not any proper crossovers, only things like the Howl AU and the Little Mermaid AU, where I took the settings/plots and put in BSD characters.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I know of!
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
...Possibly? I'm not actually sure, I've given a couple people permission, but I'm not sure if anything came of that, I haven't heard one way or another :0 I do have a tendency to use puns, which I realize might make things difficult for translations
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
No, not so far — and given how tempestuous my schedule has been, it'll probably be a while before I attempt anything like that! Sounds fun, though
14. What's your all-time favorite ship?
...I mean, it's gotta be soukoku, because for all that I've enjoyed a lot of fictional pairings before (for example, Howl and Sophie specifically from the HMC books, Beatrice and Benedick from Much Ado About Nothing — I like bickering duos, what do you know — Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane, currently falling down the Hualian rabbithole because I'm reading Heaven Official's Blessing with my friend, and there's lots of other ones), for as much as I like all those, I haven't really had much of an urge to write anything for them.
So, purely in terms of me wanting to mess around with two characters and write them over and over and over again, it's really only skk! They hit the exact right combination of braincells, I guess lololol
15. What's a WIP you want to finish but probably won't?
Hmmm...honestly, most of my WIPs I still intend to finish at some point or another — first priority being the ones I've already started posting, of course! Although...just due to time constraints, I might not get around to writing the thief!Chuuya/detective!Dazai one I was planning a while back. (and I mean a WHILE lol) I didn't write very much of it, and honestly most of the reason I wanted to write it was for comedy — so maybe I'll turn it into a short comic series instead, because I do think some of the bits were funny :0
16. What are your writing strengths?
That's a hard one; I tend to look more at the ways I want to improve my writing then at what I like about it, and I nitpick just about everything I create, art and writing alike. But if I had to pick something, I would probably say dialogue? That tends to be what I write easiest, at least. I still want to get better at that too, though.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Descriptions and action scenes. I've been making myself write them more, so I think I'm slowly improving (the Howl AU has been great for that! It pushed me to write all sorts of scenes I wouldn't have normally :D ), but those two things remain what I get bogged down by the most.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
Depends on the circumstances, I think? I'd include translations if I did. I do tend to include Japanese honorifics when I'm writing in the canon universe, because there's not really english equivalents and it feels like I'm leaving something out when I just do their names straight — although I did take them out when I was doing the Howl AU and the Little Mermaid AU, just as a setting thing.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Bungou Stray Dogs — like I mentioned in the ship section, this is the first fandom where I've really felt the urge. Although I did write things when I was little that very blatantly yoinked in various creatures and concepts from the things I was reading and watching, which resulted in stories with pirates and weeping angels and Ringwraiths all running around in the same place. But I didn't usually bother with bringing in actual characters from those pieces of media, or even using the settings, I just made ocs and had them run around in my own made up world.
20. Favorite fic you've written?
I like all of them for different reasons, but I think my favorite overall has to be Dazai and the Moving Detective Agency. It's the longest thing I've ever written, and when I started out I wasn't sure I'd be able to do it — so the fact that it's most of the way done (currently chipping away at the epilogue, it is getting to be a LOT of words) makes me really happy. And it's just been so much fun! Writing characters I hadn't before, piecing the world together, working out the magic system, writing Dazai being a mess and Chuuya being cool, it's all been a blast. And I seriously need to finish the epilogue, because the followups are living in my brain and they demand to be freed aksdfjksdjfk
But yeah! I'm not sure how many writers I know on here have already been tagged, so I'll just go open tags on this one! :D If any of y'all write and feel like doing this, then go for it!
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seokka0o · 1 year
Note
Asking bestfriend!Matthew to help you with your moaning because you're not sure of how you sound in bed 😔😔
🔭•°.ᴍᴏᴀɴ
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Seok Matthew ♡ Afab!Reader
🪐 : bestfriend!Matthew ; mutual pining; friends to lovers; non!ídol au
Warning: unprotected sex; Oral; hottie matthew 😔
Author: it's still not my work of thanks to the 200 followers, but what could I say about those hard hours that my dear bestie sent me? I'm obsessed okay? So it turned out that all this thought got out of my control, I hope you like it as much as I liked it
2k
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He's so brazen. he'd accept the offer without a second thought, and you're so eager to figure out your problem that you don't even realize it.  You're best friends, there aren't too many secrets, none that might sound too weird to live together, but Matthew can't deny that sometimes he'd thought about being put in that kind of intimacy with you, for a few seconds he imagined what it might be like to play a little with you and then you're suddenly asking for it?  It's too much, you know.
 His eyes shining in your direction, without even a word being said and you just want his answer that never seems to come out of his mouth to make any comment whatsoever, unravel whatever the problem was that needed to be solved as soon as possible.
 "Is this necessary?" The question doesn't sound like he's not comfortable, or because it seems too unexpected, Matthew just wanted to make sure you're ready to deal with it, even if he felt he weren't. He's scared to death of liking it too much
 "Yes, it's a matter of calamity, come on, Matthew, we don't need to take it so seriously" he looked really confused even more, so when he felt the weight of your body on his, when you shamelessly sat on his lap, making comfortable about it.  Since when did you plan this?  To do without even flinching, when did everything change for you to magically want Matthew to unlock the secret of your beautiful voice.  "I promise not to get attached"
 And damn his word about you.  Only he knew the weight of it, how much it seemed to affect every nervous system.  Matthew felt the neurons burned just with that kind of easy condition that posed that until minutes ago everything seemed perfectly normal.
 "Don't do this to me he" wipers, he had the cold extremity, you felt the cold finger touch your skin under your clothes, making you make simple noises.  The smile crept across his lips in celebration and then your eyes met, twinkling, the splendid sight coming from both of them, as he so reluctantly kissed your lips, extremely respectful, when your breath hitched and you missed a beat before you synchronizing, moving your lips from side to side, sucking each other, tasting the strawberrie lip tint he gave it, the gloss, and any other sweet taste.  Your fingers squeezing his shoulders and arms so hard that he felt like he could break at any moment.
It might not seem like it, but hearts were beating fast as Matthew led the way to remove your shirt, so you did the same with his, where eyes met and you could only laugh as you realized you were in such a situation with your best friend.  It seemed absurd.
 When Matthew kissed your neck gently, leaving wet marks across your skin, you didn't know that someone could remove a bra so quickly, but without realizing you were without them. that's when the first sly whisper came out of your lips, still awkwardly, but in groaning formats, which encouraged Matthew to keep going.  Touching your breasts between chubby fingers, massaging, teasing your nipples until they were hard.  Careful tongue flicks and grunts in response to feeling them hard against the hot tongue. He was already completely out of control, you could feel it, the bulge building beneath you, the shape of your hips fitted tightly together and you took the liberty of moving, rubbing, biting your bottom lip to try not to spoil the fun and moan too soon.
 "I thought the point here was for me to analyze your moan, why aren't you already doing that?"  He seems genuine in the question, but you feel the teasing deep down inside, that twinge, he wants the wrong answer so he can somehow justify it all.
 "Maybe you haven't done enough yet" who would have guessed the kind of person Matthew is?  You being so disrespectful suddenly didn't seem like so much fun to him anymore.  You couldn't help but laugh. now he lays you down on the bed, and you can see the darkened irises, as if he's become a completely different character than you're used to know.
 He hasn't spoken to you since, you still feel his icy edges, squeezing your flesh, cupping your breast so he can snap your nipple to him again, go back to dragging his tongue, sucking, feeling your body rise to make contact with his from him, your sighs began to come out with an already more exclusive air, maybe you weren't ready for what would come next, the way his hand will invade your clothes to touch your wet intimacy, squeeze your spot between his fingers, how he will collect your liquid to be able to feel and spread it everywhere.  Hearing you moan for the first time made him vibrate, his body shook, heated up, he felt his cock throb desperately inside his pants, but he wouldn't take it anywhere else for now.
You felt everything in you shiver, your fingers over the strands of his hair making circles, you were stroking and pulling to relieve yourself, moving up and down your hips looking for more contact. sometimes your leg rises to massage matthew's member, but it was some awkward mention of the act, your eyes closing and you feeling lost in the sensation, letting out some moans and grunts so endearing, you wanted to please him, you knew he was enjoying what he was hearing.
 "Keep singing to me, I want to know what kind of slut you are" you were taken aback for a moment and bit your bottom lip in pleasure.  Nothing lasts too long, Matthew took off the rest of your clothes, as if it were nothing, now you were naked in front of him, not feeling exposed at all, but somehow unable to react, because you weren't dealing with anyone. he didn't give you time, he opened your legs for him to place himself between them, without expecting too much.  Now you leaned over his shoulders, feeling his hot breath touch your pussy.
 Toasting he left, touched all your vulva with his fingers, your skin crawling all over your lips, he pressed a kiss over your clit, delicate, you lost your mind there, moaning involuntarily, sly for him.  Soon after you felt the tongue, going down your lips, circling your perimeter, sucking your juice, stopping over your bud so you could play longer;  your moans made his vibrate at your sensitive spot, making you arch your back in pleasure.
"F-fuck" you sucked in your breath, one hand over your mouth and the other went back to his hair, which you gripped so tightly, pulling closer to your core, you squeezing desperately, the sensation made you dizzy, your eyes closed , all the shivering, he seemed to enjoy it when you closed your legs over his head, there wasn't any protest, just when he thought he needed more space to be able to see you, promiscuous sounds escaping from your lips in now more frequent melodies.
"You're enjoying it too much,was it a trap?"  he asks as he rubs his thumb across your clit.
 "N-no, I promise…" you replied in a certain air of desperation, you couldn't say something like that right?  But Matthew is smart, he knows you too well,you would never be able to hide for so long your wiles.
  Soon he returns between your legs, now removing his own clothes. you are groggy, some moans still escape your lips without he doing nothing, which betrays your need for him as soon as possible and the sight of him in front of you doesn't help too much, no one but you knew the kind of need condition you've been in since the day you considered matthew as an attractant, he's a danger to anyone's sanity and you knew it well, perhaps that was why he was so inescapable.
 "I know you well, don't lie to me,y/n" His hand finds your wrists, which he holds up on the mattress, uses the other to fit his cock over your entrance and then sinks down.  The moans mixed together, you didn't want to have to respond to him, his body took you too well, the way he filled you felt like enough.  Soon his other hand found your wrists and then he laced your fingers together, still on top of your head. in an attempt to maintain a certain emotional closeness with you, even if you hadn't demanded it from him, matthew would like to make it clear that he didn't do that just to use you, it was something that went far beyond that "look at me"
 "S-sorry, it's hard to control myself around you" so you complied, opening your eyes to meet his.  It was the signal he received to start moving, first of all so calm, so slow, not taking his eyes off the way your body moves , how your face contracts, how your moans come out of your lips, this is what you wanted him to see?  A piece of what could be heaven?  Whatever he does you would gladly accept it, and then you welcome him so well it's unfair, makes him lose his mind easily.
he has his fingers laced through yours, Matthew slowly feel lost, the air starting to cut, and then he starts to fuck you for real. Hips moved with precision, he wasn't inexperienced you could tell it, how he kissed your jaw gently as you moaned his name in the most beautiful way, making your skin crawl, he slipped inside in majestic ways , as you lost yourself in this immensity.  Even after he let go of you for precision, now with each hand on each side of your body Matthew was going harder, making wet sounds all over the space, your fingers forcing the flesh of his shoulders again and then you can pull close.  Feeling your sweaty skin all over his, your breasts pressing against his chest making him grunt, thrust hard and then bury his face in the crook of your neck, for your nails to make some reddish paths down his back.
You felt his tongue passing through your skin, then sucking, barely marking you, to guarantee something that wasn't even so right, just like you did with your nails, you were marking each other's presence in the fur.  You moan his name in a way he feels is just for him, it's beautiful, he's never heard anything like it before, it filled him with pleasure, just as it filled you.  The way your whispers come out effortlessly, how you silently over his ear beg for more, or to go harder, how you moan so slyly even though you can't take it anymore, Matthew feels he can become addicted to your voice. , boosting the ego for achieving great achievement and making you moan so beautiful with his fuck.
 Gradually the bodies tensed, the hips moving clumsily, Matthew's hand sometimes taking the liberty of touching his skin, feeling your textures, lovingly exploring, maintaining the frequency of the fuck, when he slipped one of his hands to your neck, as a form of support and then began to play inside at once, you screamed, moaned madly, felt your orgasm come with an absurd force and then your body heat tried to reduce without much success.  Matthew reached the limit soon after, pulling out at the last second to end up cumming on your belly.
 "Fuck…" he said as he fell to the side, a little dizzy and out of breath from the previous effort.  His body trembled, still yearning for his next moves, but without much effort.
 "And then?"  you genuinely asked
 "Hm? I don't know, I didn't pay attention... maybe we should make a new one, so I can be sure" he says cheekily, not even considering how you looked completely destroyed, not knowing if you would have the ability to move through the next few monitors
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Hi there! I heard you wanted requests. How about if Tengen's or Kyojuro's(or maybe Shinobu, your preference)S/O got captured by a demon they had been tracking? 👀 How do you think that would pan out?
Hello, anon! I want requests indeed, so I appreciate you sending one in!
Ooooh. Very interesting scenario. You said Tengen or Kyojuro or Shinobu, but what about option D: all three? Let's do it!
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Well, Tengen already had this happen to him once, but let's say it happened again with a S/O he aspired to make his fourth partner (it can be you if you're into Tengen!) Upon first finding out, I think he would be struck with memories of what happened at the entertainment district and the trauma would cause him to have an emotional breakdown. He would be absolutely struck with PTSD from the same thing happening to him yet again. Angry, he would punch a hole in the wall and then collapse to the ground, shaking.
Minutes later, he would look in the mirror and give himself a pep talk, "Snap out of this, Tengen! A reaction like this is so unflashy of you... You're a hashira! Think of Kyojuro, what would he focus on? Or Gyomei? Or Shinobu? Or Mitsuri? What would they focus on? That's right, saving others... You have to be a flashy hashira about this!" From that point on, he would put his emotions aside and focus on one thing only: saving his S/O.
Tengen is a very strategic man, so I believe the first thing he'd do is figure out an intelligent way to save his S/O. He wouldn't involve any of the other hashira, as he believes that it's his responsibility alone to slaughter the demon that captured his S/O. Even if it's an upper moon, Tengen doesn't care, he'll stop at nothing to save his S/O.
He would go into the mission with death in mind. He knows there's a good chance he'll die to this demon, but maybe, just maybe, he can save his S/O first. That's his only goal, as he feels somewhat at fault for them being dragged into this mess to begin with.
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Kyojuro would have an optimistic outlook from the beginning. Upon finding out his S/O was captured, he would smile, surprising everyone nearby, and say something along the lines of: "No matter. We will just get <their name> back!" In his mind, there is no doubt whatsoever that he will save his S/O. Thus, there's no point in being afraid, he will handle this mission like usual and things will end as they always do, with 0 innocent casualties. The only ones dying will be demons.
Kyojuro's confidence and nobility would inspire multiple other demon slayers to want to take up arms and help him, but he would refuse to let any lower ranked demon slayers join him on such a dangerous venture. However, he would happily let other hashira accompany him, but only those fast enough to keep up, as you best believe he will move like a flash to reach the demon holding his S/O captive. Thus, Shinobu, Obanai, Mitsuri, and Giyu would be the ones joining him.
During the mission, the other hashira would notice an intensity in Kyojuro they had never seen before. He would be slaying each demon as quick as possible, as each one is a mere stepping stone to get closer to his S/O. In his eyes, there would be a burning determination as he marches closer and closer to his lover.
Despite not expressing any discontent on the surface, deep inside he would be extremely angry towards the demon who had taken his S/O. However, Kyojuro is a man with strong emotional discipline who recognizes that he must reserve all of his anger for the demon in question. Thus, around his peers, he would wear a brave face and hide how mad he really is.
Then, when the group finally reaches the demon in question, Kyojuro would fight spirited and with no smiles at all. He would neglect all dialogue with the demon, no matter how much it tried to talk to him. He would simply try to dispatch with it as quick as he possibly could. Inevitably, he would succeed, and it'd all be because of the fiery love he has for his S/O.
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In Shinobu's case, I'm going to go a different route and say that she actually witnessed her S/O being captured, but was simply unable to stop it at the time. Perhaps she was busy fighting another demon when it happened. At first, she would give her all to catch up to the demon that has her S/O, but upon realizing that the demon was already too far away, she would stop, collapse to the ground, and yell out.
Her feelings of inferiority would flare up: Why am I so weak? Why was I given such a weak and frail body, which can't even stop the demon taking my beloved? Why can't I be better? She would fall into an emotional pit, leaving her feeling too incompetent to do anything more to save her S/O. The trauma of all the loved ones she had lost before would lead her to believe that this one would inevitably be lost too.
Years and years of rage towards demons would culminate at this very moment. They took her parents, her beloved sister, her tsuguko, and now her S/O. A little like Tengen, she would break down in anger, except she'd take much longer to come out of it. She would seethe in rage and go on a killing spree of every demon nearby, slaughtering them all and forcing them down until the sun rose, unless they could tell her something about where her S/O was being taken.
It would take Gyomei to snap her out of this fit of rage. He would find her the next day, on her knees, covered in demon blood, with a furious look on her face. Then, she would see him and those kind eyes, and begin to cry. He would embrace her, softly, and say, "It's okay, my child..." He would console her as she sobbed.
After Gyomei calmed her down, she would finally be able to tell him what happened and that one of the demons she killed throughout the night confessed to her where her S/O was being taken. She would ask, desperately, if he would help her save her S/O. He would agree, and the two of them would head off, doing their best to save <their name> and at least avenge them if they're already gone.
Shinobu would fight with ferocity and passion at this point, doing everything she can to try and get her S/O back. To finally save one person important to her, and to prove to herself that she isn't inferior; that she is a hashira for a reason.
And, Shinobu would succeed. Showing incredible bravery and fighting spirit, the love she has inside would drive her to the demon that had her S/O captured and she would kill it with a brutal dose of poison before Gyomei even has the chance to help. He would cry, amazed by the incredible woman Shinobu had grown up to be. Then, Shinobu's S/O would be saved. She would sob as she held them close, so happy to see them still alive, saved from that despicable demon.
----
Whew that was so much fun to write! I really hope you enjoyed, anon! ^^
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raaorqtpbpdy · 25 days
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The Divergence Point
Wes finally succeeds in revealing Danny Phantom's true identity, and everything immediately goes downhill so fast some old ghost named Clockwork steps in.
For the prompt: Wes has done it. He has exposed Phantom to the world. So why can't he get rid of that annoying tick-tock from his head? And why is everything burning? [from @kalifa100]
Read also on AO3
[Warning for mentions of violence]
He... he'd done it.
Wes could hardly believe it himself, but he'd done it!
He'd tricked Danny into transforming in front of everyone, and now no one could deny that Wes had been right all along. They'd all seen the truth with their own eyes, and he'd done it!
He'd exposed Phantom to the world.
But he never expected it to turn out like this.
Why couldn't he get rid of this annoying tick-tocking sound in his head? And why was everything burning? How could achieving his greatest goal be a bad thing?
People were rioting as an unconscious Danny got carried away by the Guys in White. Fights broke out. A fire started. The mayor was trying to get everyone to calm down to absolutely no effect whatsoever. Everyone was freaking out, and no one was even paying any actual attention to the truth Wes had just exposed which started all this in the first place.
He'd just wanted to show them the truth; he never wanted anyone to get hurt.
No. No way. He could fix this.
The ticking had been growing steadily louder in his head, louder and louder until he couldn't focus, couldn't even think, and he was clutching his head in pain, his eyes squeezed shut.
Then, all at once, it quieted to a soft tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock in the background, and the air grew cold.
Wes opened his eyes. He was no longer standing in the second floor window of City Hall. Instead, he looked to be in some kind of clock tower. But the colors were all wrong, eerie and unnatural like they were glowing and absorbing light at the same time.
"Wesley Weston," said a voice.
Wes jumped at the sound and whipped his head toward it. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"I am Clockwork, the Master of Time," the ghost replied, because there was no doubt in Wes' mind that it was a ghost. "And you seem to have gotten yourself in quite a bit of trouble."
Most Amity Parkers would be scared out of their wits if they found themselves face-to-face with an obviously powerful ghost, in what was obviously his home turf, being told that they were in trouble. Wes Weston was not most Amity Parkers, and he wasn't afraid of any ghost, no matter who they were.
Wes narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
Clockwork rapidly aged before Wes, then waved his hand through the air, causing a line to appear. At a single point, the line split into dozens of lines.
"This, is your timeline, and that point," Clockwork said, sticking a gnarled finger at the spot where the lines diverged, "Is today."
Wes wanted to speak, ask a question maybe, or say something in his defense if he did indeed need to defend himself. But the words didn't come to him, so he just listened, waiting for Clockwork to finish his explanation, which would hopefully include why the hell Wes was here.
"Each of these lines that branch off from today, is a direction in which your timeline might go," the old ghost continued. "But you may have noticed that only one of them goes straight forward."
He indicated the line that continued straight amongst all the wild and diverging paths.
"So?"
"So this is the line that you have forced because of your actions," Clockwork pointed to a wiggling, looping line going way off in another direction.
"Again, so?"
"So... this is how that line ends."
Clockwork gestured broadly to a screen where Wes could see a world on fire, ravaged by war. His eyes widened in shock.
"Wait, you're telling me I'm responsible for that?"
"There are billions of people on your world, making trillions of decisions every day, but at any given point in time, there is only one decision that matters, and the person making it changes all the time."
Clockwork jabbed his finger once again at the point where the lines diverged.
"At this distinct point, there is only one person on Earth whose decisions determine the future of the world as you know it," Clockwork said. "And at this distinct point, that person is you. Ordinarily, there are a few potential vital decisions that will result in the safe continuation of the timeline, and one of the right ones is made."
Clockwork waved his hand again, and showed another timeline, side by side with the first. This one, too, branched off after a certain point, although it only had about ten possible outcomes, and three of them kept the timeline going more or less straight ahead, with only slight deviations, where the others spread wider.
Evidently, that was the standard situation, and the divergence point where Wes' decision mattered was atypical to say the least. His had lines that turned around and went backwards, lines that formed loops and waves, and only one that went forward.
Clockwork pointed once more at the divergence point where Wes' decision was the only one that mattered.
"At this divergence point, there is only one right answer," he said. "Only one way to avoid catastrophic consequences. You must not reveal Daniel's secret to the world."
"What?" Wes shouted. "No way! I worked hard to do that! There has to be some way I can keep the timeline from devolving into chaos and still expose Fenton's secret. I worked too hard for too long to just give up!"
"If that's so, then you will repeat the day over until you find it, or realize the futility of trying," Clockwork told him. "Failure will not be tolerated."
The next thing Wes knew, he was gasping awake in bed.
It was eight in the morning on Saturday, and Phantom's public appearance hadn't happened yet, meaning Wes hadn't even gotten the chance to enact his latest plan, and it hadn't caused absolute chaos.
Weird dream.
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dross-the-fish · 7 months
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I can't find it now but I saw a post where you said Erik's mask isn't a comfort item. Why do you think it isn't? Why would he get so angry at Christine if it wasn't?
Ok, I'm about to get ranty and it's not directed at you specifically so don't take it personally.
I hate the take that Erik's mask is his "security blanket" or his "comfort device" because it's incredibly LAZY.
It's fucking lazy. It's a lazy and reductive take and it almost always comes with the intent of woobifying Erik and villainizing Christine.
Erik does not find his mask comforting, he feels he has to wear it to conceal himself and if anything he gives the sense that he would much rather be able to live without it. He's angry at Christine for a few reasons and I speculate some of them are not even about Christine.
The most obvious and superficial reason is that his carefully laid plan has gone to shit
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Erik believed whole heartedly that if Christine didn't know what he looked like that she might be compelled to return to him if he let her go. My guess is that he had planned to try and win her over and wait to tell her the truth after they re-built some of the lost trust...trust lost because he lied to her...and kidnapped her.
Erik is a wee bit unhinged.
But I also think there's more to his freak out. This may be headcanon on my part but I always interpreted this
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As being something of a traumatized response. Not because the mask gives him comfort or something like that, but because when someone is deformed, especially back in that time period, people often stared or treated them like a horror novelty. Erik has no doubt endured a life time of people trying to look at his face as some kind of morbid curiosity to be gawked at and Christine snatching it may have put him back in that mindset and he is PISSED.
His bit about "Women being inquisitive" also strikes me as him referencing things that happened before. I almost wonder if Christine wasn't the first person to catch his interest and if he's tried this before with....horrible results.
It reads less like "Oh no! You took my safety blanket! Now I'm exposed and vulnerable!" and more akin to
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This specifically is why I hate the whole "mask is his comfort item" take because it makes Erik sound like a toddler throwing a tantrum because someone took his binky and paints Christine as being somehow in the wrong for wanting to see her kidnapper's face.
A thing she had already demanded of him previously which he denied without giving any explanation whatsoever. I cannot stress enough that Erik is the one with the power in this scenario. They are in his house, he has her trapped and he has been the older mentor/protector figure in her life for some time. The scale is tipped in HIS favor, not hers. I've always felt that at this point in their relationship her taking off the mask is, in a way, her trying to level the field because he's had her at such a disadvantage this whole time.
And that's not to say that Christine doesn't have feelings of some kind for Erik. Christine's feelings for Erik are messy and complicated but there is an undeniable fear and discomfort that she expresses over her captivity. She does pity him enough to come back, I think she also feels a lingering attachment to him, despite everything, but Erik keeps making. The. Worst. Possible. Choices.
To be clear, Christine is not in any way to blame for "provoking" Erik. He is a victim of the the time period and the society he lives in but he is not in any way shape or form CHRISTINE'S victim.
Erik isn't to blame for how he's been treated by the world at large and he's clearly been through some shit, he deserves sympathy but that doesn't make his treatment of Christine ok or make it Christine's job to give him affection and companionship.
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I haven't seen anyone post it so here's Shelby's second statement on Twitter:
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[Image ID: Two screenshots of text written by Shubble and posted on @/shelbygraces on Twitter. They read: "I've thought a lot about what I would say when I came back. Firstly I want to say the biggest thank you to everyone showing their support. I have never felt so loved and cared for. And I've never seen so many communities come together to have somebody's back like this. I'm so proud of everyone taking such a powerful stance against these actions. I never could have imagined this response. While I didn't do this for myself, through sharing my story I have healed more parts of myself I had no idea were still pained.
I'd like to address the apology. Quite frankly I've never seen an apology so self centered. It seems to purposely misconstrue the issue I very clearly laid out. My issue was not with being bit. It was with being HURT. And to vaguely apologize for "any hurt" while knowing we needed a safe word because I was being hurt so often on accident, and I continued to be hurt daily, is incredibly disrespectful. But not more disrespectful than not even saying my name. I believe I am referred to as "ex girlfriend" so if you don't know who he's talking about, you might now find out what he did. This is not how you take accountability.
Not only are there no dms whatsoever where it is expressed that I enjoy being hurt by my partner, to imply there was consent in text over an issue that entirely happened in person, where every conversation about it happened in person, is ridiculous. He knows how often I asked him to stop hurting me, that I didn't like it and that I didn't like being covered in bruises all the time. Entirely why he switches to biting my legs, so no one would think I looked abused. But he continued to hurt me. He either didn't take my pleas for it to stop seriously, or he didn't hear them at all.
I felt lost for so long, truly losing myself in this relationship. I abandoned my personal morals, neglected friends and lied for this person. With every time I spoke up being ignored, I shrank. I lost my fight. I stayed locked in a house I had no key for and didn't even try to leave anymore. People ask why we stay, and it's so hard to explain ourselves because we've abandoned all our reasoning. I wasn't safe anymore with this person but I couldn't see that. I loved him and he told me he'd try to stop hurting me.
I'm deeply saddened by how many more friends were hurt by his actions. But I'm so thankful to everyone doing the absolute most in making sure I've been ok over the last few days. Thank you to everyone who's reached out to me. Thank you #ShubbleSupportSquad, every day I read your messages and see your art, and it makes me feel truly like the bravest girl in the world. I think the good that comes out victims sharing their experiences so others can learn and avoid similar pain, or come to terms with ways they were mistreated, is the most important thing in this moment.
You cannot treat people this way without consequence. You cannot pretend you don't know the harm you cause. You cannot pretend going to therapy fixes all past mistakes. All of the love that's been shared for me over the past few days, is for every victim of abuse. Our lives are forever changed by these experiences. I now struggle with memory problems and extreme anxiety. And it may be awhile before I feel fully like myself, whoever she is. But I know I have my spark back. Please remember how brave and how strong you are. We shouldn't be expected to be silent when we are mistreated." End ID]
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sokkastyles · 2 months
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Iroh is likely to hold a selfish grudge against Azula forever, he absentmindedly gave her gift from imperial conquest, abandoned her to an abusive household, shows angry and contempt to her before she does anything wrong, repeatedly tells Zuko to hate her and beat her up, says she’s crazy, puts Zuko and Azula against each other, gets angry that he got burned when he backed her into a corner, tells Zuko she doesn’t love him, even after she makes a speech about how much she loves him and wants him by her side, and treats Azula like the devil, while treating Ozai with much more compassion than he deserves
he’d probably want he to be executed, have her bending taken away, etc.
He also abandoned his traumatized 16 year old nephew to rule over a country all by himself for one of the most selfish reasons ever, so he can open a damn tea shop in a city he wanted to commit genocide in, which is in another continent, he also doesn’t show up to his coronation, what a dick
he also decides not to stop the airships and instead gives that job to 3 children, so he and his cult members can selfishly “liberate” Ba Sing Se because it was his “Destiny” what an asshole
I may be harsh on Ursa, but at least she TRIED
This is why the Azula fandom can't have nice things.
He's not "likely" to hold a selfish grudge, and doesn't in canon, so that argument is moot, anyway. Iroh is actually the one who says in the comics that going with Zuko to find Ursa might be good for her, because he clearly cares about her and wants her to have that closure.
He "absentmindedly" gave her a gift? What the fuck does that even mean? Azula also very purposefully burned that gift, though, while calling her uncle a lazy fatso. Azula stans trying to downplay or justify that by saying Iroh's gift wasn't good enough is really, really ugly behavior, and not an argument I am interested in.
He doesn't show contempt for her "before she does anything wrong", he is actually polite when she shows up lying to his and Zuko's faces, but he doesn't walk into her trap because he sees straight through her. Pretending that she did nothing wrong, when she absolutely has malicious intent there, is stupid and dishonest.
Same with pretending Azula was just defending herself in the Chase, because the reason she was there is because she had mercilessly tracked down the gaang, Zuko, and Iroh. Them teaming up against her is what we call Karma.
Even then, though, Iroh isn't actually angry at Azula. Even when he says "she's crazy and needs to go down," it's delivered in a deadpan and humorous way, not an angry way, and he says it for Zuko's benefit, to tell Zuko that he is allowed to defend himself. It is not about his feelings at all.
He doesn't pit Zuko against her, or tell Zuko to beat her up. He also doesn't treat Ozai with any compassion whatsoever. That's all complete nonsense that actually hurts your argument because it's transparent that you have no actual argument.
I'm also not going to entertain any argument about Iroh opening a tea shop in Ba Sing Se because he also was instrumental in saving that city, which actually changes the whole situation, which is why you left it out. He also did not abandon Zuko. I don't agree with everything in the comics but what they actually show is Zuko not wanting to bother Iroh, but when Aang takes him to Iroh at the end, he says Zuko is always welcome there.
And lol, Ursa "tried" according to you when she's not the current target of your nonsensical rant, but I don't think for a minute that you won't try to turn your "criticisms" towards her if you think it might absolve Azula of responsibility. That's all this is, just the completely ridiculous ramblings of someone who overidentifies with a selfish and cruel character because it feeds your own victim complex. You don't want Iroh or Ursa to try to help Azula, because that won't feed said victim complex.
Again, this is why the Azula fandom can't have nice things.
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