Tumgik
#like u can read it platonically or romantically
Note
I just read your Yandere vampire OM brothers and I was wondering what about yan vampire Lucifer and MC who has a blood clotting problem like they cut their hand or whatever and the blood keeps pouring nothing you dramatic bit still like Woah u good??? (don't feel forced to do this btw, also I love ur writing!!!)
hey anon!! I sorry for being this late to your request, I hope my writing is a fine apology for that.
Haemophilia is one such genetic disorder where the person's blood doesn't clot easily. Although it is a reccessive gene, you were born with one. It did not pose much threat to you due to the advances in medical treatment keeping you alive for so long, so you never worried too much about it.
You did worry about it when you were asked to come to Devildorm for one year. "One whole year?? How am I supposed to survive there!?" You somehow managed to purchase almost months and months of medicines in your little suitcase, but ofc you were bound to run out of supplies in the far future.
Today was one such day. You counted the leafs of medicines left, and all of them were empty. You were being reckless by not keeping an eye on the medicine, and now you have none. Worried, you were trying not to panic in your small cozy room. After taking deep breaths, you came to a conclusion that asking Lucifer to help in this situation would be the best. With that, you went to the kitchen to fulfill Beel's craving of eating your handmade food.
The pot boiling with water and the sound of you cutting the vegetables filled the kitchen. "You called for me? Sorry I was busy with some student council work" you turn your head towards the source of the sound, a soft smile conquring your lips as you meet your eyes with him. He, with a click in his step and his long, black clock hanging from his broad shoulders came up to you and engulfed you in a hug. " how have you been MC?" he spoke in your ear as you continued your chopping. "I am well Lucifer, and yes I did call for you. I need to go back to the human world."
"But why?"
"Because I need to- ouch!"
You took your eyes off of the food to look at Lucifer, which was a bad idea because you now have a cut on your finger from moving the knife wrong. It hurt a bit, but to Lucifer, it seemed as if you have lost half of your body's blood.
"How could you be so careless!? Show me your finger" You could see that his eyes have started to dilate, his fangs have started to appear. Yet he is not even thinking about drinking blood. Instead his eyes, althought appearing to be bloodlustly, are actually filled with concern.
"Did you eat your medicines??"
"Ah, about that...." you told him about not having them, and he sighed. "Well wait here, I have some with me. Don't move from your place and stop cooking" Before he left the kitchen he spoke some words and created magic that collected the blood dripping from your hand. Now you had a small bubble of blood floating in the air that was oozing out.
Lucifer came back within two minutes and handed you the medicine. " Thank you so much Luci, but what will you do with this bubble of blood?" He just gives you a knowing look and brings his tongue near the bubble. You blush slightly as he savours the exotic taste of your blood, the medicine acting fast and stopping the bleeding.
" Why are you blushing MC? Your blood is only for me to taste. Now sit down, grab a dessert from the fridge, and let me finish dinner"
PS: anon you did not mention if Lucifer and MC are in an established relationship or not so I tried to write it in a way that you can insert a romantic/platonic relation between them^^ and also thank you for supporting my writing I appreciate it^^
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puppiesandnightlock · 6 months
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Link: My Blood (super sons week day five)
Summary:
Damian reflects on the use of the nickname "dami" and jon tells him abt some new words he learned in arabic.
also known as some angsty shit that started out rlly sweet but ended with a possible dead damian??
The first time that Jon had called Damian “Dami”, he had instantly recoiled, with a stubborn response of “Don’t call me that.” 
After all, how could he know what it meant to him?
Nevertheless, he persisted. His brothers had taken to calling him what they assumed was only a shortened version of his name, as well as his father on rare occasions.
After a particularly hard battle, Jon had said it with such reverence, he nearly believed him when he did, although he was quick to snap back at him. 
A few similar altercations like that, and Jon had stopped, changing it to various other little nicknames, somehow only ringing it out in the most dire of situations, when emotions ran high.
It sent a pang to Damian’s heart, because although he wouldn't admit it, he missed hearing the word from his lips.
And if he were to die, that would be the last thing he wanted to hear.
“NO! No, Damian, stay with me. Stay with me, bud, just a little longer..” Jon’s face was streaked with tears, and Damian reached a bloodstained hand from where he was laying, his head on Jon's lap.
“Isn’t it funny?” He said suddenly, the world going dizzy.
The sky behind Jon was an orange-purple hue, the battlefield littered with bodies and metal pieces, and battered heroes stubling together, trying to find each other.
“What’s funny, D?” 
“You all call me Dami. and here I am, covered in my blood. ”
“Damian, Damian, please don’t-” Jon choked out, looking anywhere but Damian’s stomach, where an alien spear had pierced through the kevlar of his suit.
His hand cupped Jon’s face, bringing him back towards him. 
“Hey. Hey, look at me. It’s okay. You can let go. I’ll be okay, I promise.”
A heartbroken laugh sounded from the younger boy as he looked down at him, brushing the matted hair from his emerald eyes.
How he would miss them..
“Oh, Dami…”
“I’ll be okay, Jon. You know why? Because I'll have you with me wherever I go.” He gave a smile, the broken domino on his face sliding down.
Jon held him, desperately praying for a miracle, for at least a Bat to show up to see Damian should the worst happen.
His eyes grew heavy, and he let a smile grace his lips. “You know to tell them I love them, right?”
“Dami, stop, you're not going to die, you’re not!”
The younger boy pleaded with him, the pain in his face something that hurt Damian more than the gaping hole in his stomach.
“Call it a nap, then. Will you talk to me? I want to see you smile.”
A wobbly grin spread across his features, and his hand ran through the bleeding boy’s hair as he began to talk.
“I was so confused, why you were always so mad when I called you Dami, why you always told me to stop. I remembered you did speak arabic a lot, and so i looked it up. I found how much it must have meant to you, so I switched it up. I used it only when I wanted you to know I meant it. 
“You are my blood, my heart, my soul. You’re a part of me, a teammate, my partner. I found a few more terms like that. Hayati was my favorite. That describes who you are to me, Dami. You’re my life, my light…my whole world. I love you so much/”
His eyes shut, and the world went dark, He floated off in his mind, to wherever this would take him, with the reminisce of the words Jon had left him with. 
I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. My life.
Hayati.
A/N:
DAMIAN NUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU
okay, you choose, did he die or was he saved????? personally i would have gone with death lmao yes i did cry a lil writing this thats how u know its good lol
i may be persuaded to put up a poll on who wants him to die and who wants him to live and write a sequel on whichever is most popular O.o
if u read it and feel the need to screm at me for doing this, go ahead id love to c it lmao
for @super-sons-week-2023
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lovesickeros · 8 months
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☆ even the gods bleed
{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, injury, light angst {☆} word count 2.3k
What was justice?
Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.
She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.
How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?
She does not know.
Perhaps she may never know.
What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.
It is a mockery of it.
She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.
The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.
Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.
For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.
Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.
She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner – the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.
She understands, now.
She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.
Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.
Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.
But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..
..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.
Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.
Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.
The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.
Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.
What does she have left to lose?
She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.
Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.
Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.
Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.
Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.
..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.
Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.
Probably.
Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.
Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.
Then again, neither was treason.
Well, first time for everything, right?
It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.
..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.
She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.
But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.
..How was she going to prove it?
An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.
And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!
After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.
The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.
She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.
"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.
She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.
"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.
"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"
She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.
"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"
Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.
To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.
Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.
She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.
The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.
"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."
She does not hesitate to agree.
"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"
He doesn't deign to respond.
It only makes her fume more.
Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.
"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.
She suddenly felt out of place.
..What was she supposed to be doing?
As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..
"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."
Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.
Neuvillette, for his part..
Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.
He cannot hear the rain, anymore.
..It must have stopped.
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anzynai · 2 months
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Kitty
Husk x Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
a/n: helloooo, so someone requested a part 2 (and i enjoyed writing huskerdust) so of course, part 2!! this is a sequel to my first fic only you, which you can check out first if you’d like, but this can also be read as a standalone. ignore the fact that i accidentally switched povs about halfway😭😭 hope this isnt ooc LOL and enjoy!!
summary: another night of husk and angel existing together. of course, things are bound to happen.
word count: 1.1k
——
“I swear to fuck, I’m going to die if I have to work another eighteen hour shift again.” Angel moaned, leaning his head back on the headrest of the sofa as he stretched his legs on Husk’s thighs. Husk sat on the sofa beside him.
Angel had come back to the Hotel about an hour ago and as usual, Husk and Angel went to talking. Though, after finishing their drinks, they didn’t simply retire to their rooms for the night. Instead, the conversation had shifted from the barstools to the couches in the living room.
“Sounds like you had it rough today.” Husk sympathizes, because he really does.
“Tell me about it.” Angel rolls his eyes. He shifts his legs again and it becomes increasingly more difficult for Husk to ignore their closeness. Somehow, during their talk, they had gotten closer and closer and if one of the other hotel patrons had walked on them at this moment, Husk was afraid they would think they were.. interrupting something.
The last time they were this close was.. yeah, when Husk tickled Angel. They hadn’t mentioned it since, which Husk was a bit shocked about. He was sure Angel would be all over teasing him about his hands being alllll over him, or even when he discovered that the bartender was also ticklish. But alas, that hadn’t happened. That’s not to say Husk didn’t want to talk about it, don’t get him wrong, but how was he going to say that he enjoyed tickling Angel?!
“How’s it with Al, anyway?” Angel cuts through his thoughts, suddenly. Husk clears his throat.
“Same old. The fucker only calls for me when he needs me to run his errands. Leaves me alone most of the time, though.” Husk grumbled, recalling a time that Alastor had ordered him to fetch some sinner who had apparently tried to run away after their deal with Alastor didn’t work in their favor. What made it all the more infuriating is that Alastor could’ve easily snapped the sinner in front of him in the blink of an eye.
“Huh.” Was all Angel said, in response, but he moved closer to the bartender, eyes blinking blearily and yawning.
“Tired?” Husk asked, yawning himself.
“Mmm.. maybe a little.” Angel mumbled. Husk readjusted his hands, his claws grazing slightly against Angel’s legs. The spider giggled sleepily, causing the cat to chuckle.
“Ticklish too.”
“Don’t act like you aren’t either.”
“Not more than you.” Husk grumbled, his face heating up. It wasn’t as though he could deny it— Angel had figured it out when he decided to tickle him back.
“That may be so..” Angel began, sitting up, looking too smug compared to how exhausted he seemed seconds earlier. “But I’m sure I can still make a kitty purr~”
Suddenly, Husk didn’t like where this was going.
Talk about a cringy line. Purr? “Don’t even think about it.”
“Whaaaat? I’ll be gentle~” Angel traced his finger under Husk’s chin. It was slow and light and unbearingly evil.
“Hhmmp..!” Husk pursed his lips. Angel took this as a sign to keep going as he crept closer to the bartender.
“Sensitive, are we?” Angel smiled, amused. One of his hands went to Husk’s shoulder, almost as though he was interrogating him.
“Shut it, Legs.” Husk grumbled, embarrassed.
“Not denying it, huh?” Angel muttered, chuckling to himself. One of his arms reached over to Husk’s sides, squeezing lightly as the soft fur spread between his fingers. Husk turned away, a crooked smile on his lips, yet no sound came out. Feeling a bit bolder, Angel sat over Husk, so that the bartender’s legs were between his knees. Husk didn’t say anything, though it was likely because he was too busy concealing his reactions.
Angel smirked.
“You are a tough cookie to crack, Kitty. Good thing I like a challenge.” Angel teased, taking his other hand to Husk’s other side, kneading softly. Only a few muffled giggles made it past Husk’s lips. Angel used his third arm, determined to make Husk break, and traced along his neck. He couldn’t deny that the way Husk’s neck clamped down on his fingers was adorable. Husk would probably die if he told him that. So he did. And while he didn’t die, the blush on Husk’s face was more than enough to make up for it.
“S-stohop talking..” Husk groaned, eyes squeezed shut.
“Hm.” Was all Angel said in response, scanning for Husk’s body. It was true Husk seemed pretty sensitive, considering how hard it looked for him to resist laughing, but nowhere he had tried had been enough to break his defenses. So where…
And then, he looked up at Husk’s ears, an idea popping into his head. No way. It couldn’t be.
He took his arms away from Husk’s sides, which had still been methodically tickling him, offering Husk a small chance at relief. Not that it lasted long because a second later, his hands were scritching on Husk’s ears.. similar to how one would pet a cat.
“Hhk!” Was the beginning of it as Husk gave one last effort to resist. Futile, of course. Then, a moment later: “SHIHIHIT!”
“No fuckin’ way! Your ears!?” Angel exclaimed, laughing at the irony and reeling over the fact his idea had worked so much better than he had thought.
“FUHUHUCK OHOFF!” Husk shrieked, flustered out of his mind.
“Just like a kitten! So adorable~ Our one and only bartender taken down by just a few ear scratches.” Angel beamed, very invested in this display. Angel, still scratching his ears, scratched at his tummy. Did cats like belly rubs? One way to find out, he supposed.
Apparently, they do? If Husk’s laughter increasing tenfold was anything to go by. It was sounding a little hysterical, though, and Angel wanted to treat him with the same gentleness that he had received a few nights ago. He eased up on the tickling, only scribbling on one of Husk’s ears. Husk was still ticklish there, but at least he could breathe.
“Ahahangel..”
“Yes~?”
“Youhuhu suhuhuck..” Angel laughed.
“You bet I do.” It was then that Husk realized his words and even while being tickled, the disappointment on his face was clear.
“Nohoho mohohore!” Husk giggled, minutes later, his exhaustion at its peak. The moment he said that, Angel relented, but not before giving him a quick poke to the side. Angel snickered when he jolted.
“Been waiting for this, have you?” Husk grumbled. Angel got off of him, but sat close to him. Their legs were touching.
“Yep. Since you were oh-so kind to grace me with some tickling, shouldn’t you have a taste of it, too?” Angel said, easily.
“Not at all.” Husk rolled his eyes, but he didn’t look nearly as annoyed as he tried to act like. “Next time, it’s going to be you. Again.”
“Next time?” Angel covered his mouth with his hand, chuckling. He assumed Husk was going to backtrack his words because he had just indirectly told him that he was expecting there to be a next time.
Instead, Husk smirked, a sneaky look in his eyes. “Yep. Next time.”
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teacup-crafter · 2 months
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c10v3r · 4 months
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lightbulb comforting paintbrsh..? it would heal my soul
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a hug in this trying time
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quietwingsinthesky · 12 days
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sometimes interpreting media through a shipping lens enhances it, on occasion even beyond the author’s original intent, but sometimes, you do have to accept that your ship was not in the heads of anyone making the source material and trying to force it to fit into evidence of your ship will severely hinder your ability to discuss the actual text.
#and also ill hit you on the head with a brick#posts that. im not going to say theyre about destiel. im not going to say that.#and im not gojng to say it because. i dont need to. you already know <3#and to be clear: its not the interpretation thats a problem here. thats the fun of shipping. its then taking what youve interpreted and then#trying to backread that onto the media itself as intentional. as intended.#dismissing the actual themes and story for evidence of a ship is the problem. u get me?#shipping brainrot is not ‘oh i think these characters would kiss for this reason’.#its ‘this show is and has always been about these characters kissing no matter how much i have to ignore about the show to make that true or#pretend is completely different than its actually presented or straight up make things up to make my ship be a part of the intended reading’#thats the brainrot. the brainrot is when u step off the train of reality.#this is not true about the best piece of art ever made Captain America and the Winter Soldier. btw. that movie IS about bucky and steve#kissing alsjfdjskdjg#(<- okay im being silly here but id like to make a real point here too. the thing about TWS is that. it is genuinely enhanced by a romantic#reading. its not *better* than a platonic one. its just different. being able to see it through that lens does make a lot of the original#movie’s ideas even more complex. case in point like: steve struggling with his dating life. because what shared life experience does he have#with other people who look his age. and the movie is. about. someone who has his shared life experiences. and his mission to get bucky back.#you can see how that lens would be beneficial to the original movie rather than fighting it to prove the ship works in opposition to the#author’s original intent.)
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chuuyanakaahara · 9 months
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hey, you. you, there.
do you want a fic about junichirou accidentally joining the port mafia for a little while before getting to go back to the ADA with a hint of tachihara & tanizaki, the hunting dogs, junichirou backstory, the full nine yards?
do you also want it in a cozy little 17,896 one-shot?
boy, do i have the fic for you! here is taste of fear
featuring some fun dialogue such as:
“What, you think you’d be a better assassin than a detective?”  “Probably, yeah.”  “Then why do you stay with the Agency?” 
and
“Stop thinking so fucking loudly, it’s annoying,” Tachihara says with a huff, his voice just as whiny as it was earlier and, dare Junichirou to think it, even more annoying than beforehand. “They’re not that bad, and we’re not going to jump you.”  “That’s exactly what someone who was going to jump me would say.”  “You don’t get out much, do you?” 
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isekyaaa · 4 months
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One thing I did not expect tho was how incredibly smooth Cornelius was in his side story with Leonore. u///u
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bluest-planet · 8 months
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The lack of KH mermaid aus is criminal, like, it basically writes itself.
#blue speaks#listen like#already read all the ones i liked or was interested in#usually im not one for aus unless its like. Canon divergence#im a modern/highschool/nopowers/coffeeshop/florist/soulmate hater alright#but MERMAID aus? idk man smth about em gets me#rarely but it does#anyways#very sad to see it not be poppin'#at least to my preference#im not the biggest soriku or sorikai person or roman in general#also very picky#no im not writing for this and thats a fact not a 'haha whoopse' bc its not smth im interested in writing tbh#id consider it after doing some other stuff or smth but no. im not adding it to the list and its not a priority#just wish id see that cute giant mer roxas and his fisherman bestie sora fanart in a fic lol id read that platonic or not#btw while i love the heart hotel as found siblings/family that doesn't mean im some kinda hater of any of those ships inside it#i like em all except vanitas and ven bc them being worsties is so funny to me i love it#some of the best kinda relationships are the ones that can fit any dynamic#again why i like queerplatonic heart hotel ftw#but soroku and soven and sovani and even sorxion (?) fans i see u and i hear u literally anything for heart hotel (romantic or not idc)#oh and i guess im not a fan of xion and roxas.... but that again my lack of intrest in a simple romance like that? idk to me they're friends#or siblings even#but cool if you like em#anyways pls send me some good mer fic recs if u got some thanks. or good heart hotel fics in gen. 👍#good night
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suffarustuffaru · 7 months
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Not meaning to throw any shade at Rem, but I hate how her character ended up being restricted to only loving Subaru. It became her personality and her reason to exist
Meanwhile my man Otto has layers and fun dynamics with everyone WHILE also being codependent and hopelessly in love to Subaru (in my point of view)
I hope that now Tappei will be able to balance Rem's character and give her another personality trait besides her love for Subaru
ok so if anyone else is seeing this, this is referring to a poll i made a few days ago pitting rem and otto against each other bc theyre both the resident codependent subaru devotees and they do parallel/contrast each other a bit 👍
but yeah anon… not to affect the poll results or anything wkdndnd but i agree a lot with you!! i have mixed feelings on rem bc i do love her a lot—im halfway through her and ram’s prequel novel and im enjoying it a lot, and also i liked her the moment i watched season 1 of the anime for the first time. shes an intriguing character with a well written backstory and her own set of flaws and traits. but i think the big thing is her and ottos relationships with subaru, while subaru is first place in both of their hearts and subaru comes first before anyone else at this point, rem and ottos flavors of Dependency are different?
like with rem, i think its the point that her whole being ends up revolving around subaru. not that otto isnt like that either, of course, but otto has Way More of a life outside of subaru. otto has a whole group of people from the emilia camp to marone and his family that he cares about other than subaru, and on top of that, ottos job in the emilia camp is to communicate with others both within and outside of his camp. then theres his dp, which is also dependent and ABOUT communication. when it comes to rem and otto, theres absolutely no competing on this, otto is the one with more of. a Life. not that rem doesnt have other people she cares about and other people she talks with and other people she likes (and also rem was unfortunately Gluttonyed), but the top two closest people in her life were always ram then subaru. otto got lucky with his loving family, bc rems Entire Life has molded her into being dependent on others. shes told by her family that the only reason shes alive is bc ram saved her. ram is the only person who loves her. she envies ram and then she feels so guilty after her village is destroyed and rams horn is gone (especially when rem is initially. kind of Glad that rams horn is gone). so rem places her worth on serving the people she loves—ram and subaru. rem has spent her WHOLE LIFE like this. remsuba as a relationship has its ups and downs but arc 3 rem is, while sweet and well meaning, shes not the healthiest. remsuba isnt the healthiest. and then arc 7-8 comes in and yeah while rems pov of subaru and the whole situation is Understandable from what little she knows, yeah its not the healthiest either (and also i dont forgive her for being mean about natsumi wkfndnd).
not that ottosuba is the Healthiest given they seem like theyre going to become. a bit Toxic in arc 8 if they keep being stubborn, but the big difference is in how otto and rem devote themselves. bc rems problem (in arc 3) is that she enables subaru a little too much. i mean sloth if exists for a reason, she ran away with subaru and RAM AND EVERYONE ELSE DIED. ottos problem is that hes 1. obsessed with opposing subaru and 2. not straightforward with his feelings the way arc 3 rem is. bc at least pre gluttony rem is gonna straightforwardly be like “id do anything for you” and “i love you” etc etc. like yeah ottos like “youre my friend!!” but hes also gonna complain nonstop about subaru to his face and say shit like “ill leave at the first sight of danger!!” RIGHT AFTER RISKING HIS LIFE FOR SUBARU. and also even then arc 8 rems siding with subaru on louis so shes enabling him in that respect too (even though arc 8 rem is different from arc 3 rem of course). ergo, rem is the one who wants to support subaru Unconditionally. even if its not what youd consider the right decision. otto tries to help subaru get what he wants, but if otto doesnt agree he starts getting aggressive. rem makes herself pliable and into a bit of a doormat for subaru, otto starts getting out the pitchforks and tries to control things bc he thinks his way his best for subaru in the end. that, and while subaru does go first in ottos heart, hes STILL loyal to the entire emilia camp as a whole (minus roswaal). thats why he wanted to leave vollachia, he wanted to save the ENTIRE emilia camp.
but like you said anon—while the point is that rem ends up centering her whole life around subaru, i feel that tappei handles otto (who has SIMILAR PLOT BEATS) with far more nuance. like while otto will literally do anything else besides actually say “i love you” or “id do anything for you”, his arc is more straightforward and consistent than rems. again, rem got gluttonyed and a bunch of different stuff have happened with her so of course her arc has been more Dramatic in its changes, but with otto he grows and changes but at the same time he doesnt change At All. his arc 8 self is doing stuff hes been capable of this whole time, vollachia and subaru just bring out his more hidden traits. the narrative is just way more consistent with emphasizing that while otto thinks hes in the right, hes also Wrong in a lot of ways. his mindset rn is Not Healthy and i feel that the narrative shows that more with him than it does rem a lot. like the writing literally goes out of its way to shit on otto a bit for being a little messed up in the head, while you have to read more into rems plot and then some audiences just completely miss the point of her character. that and—yeah, rems reasons are all very understandable, but i feel that tappei romanticizes her a bit too much. all you have to do is look at sloth if bc sloth if seems a Bit too fluffy to me despite the absolute Dark Backdrop. like yeah. subaru rbds back to arc 3 at the end. but i feel like sloth if just sweeps a lot of the dark underbelly under the rug. ottosuba as a dynamic to me just feels more Equal than remsuba does, which is probably a bit strange HAH bc ottosuba as a dynamic is based on Conflict (especially when you remember ottosuba across the ifs too) and their power dynamics in arc 8 are likely going to get crazy at some point.
plus its like—the way the whole louis situation has been handled made me think that tappei wouldnt even bother examining the Problems with louis and subaru + rems relationships with louis, but luckily arc 8 has been getting into that more. so like i dont completely trust tappei with female characters (he has a habit of. fumbling the bag a bit with them sometimes, imo. he gets out such great complex main female characters then he starts messing up with their writing like halfway through). but like you anon, i hope that rem gets far more character development. the poor girl has spent her whole life basing her worth on others….
and well. again, i think the difference in how the writing treats otto vs rem is probably also bc ottos a boy and rems a girl. so of course otto consistently gets a bit more nuance, and of course certain parts of the audience just see rem and think “waifu who would do anything for you” rather than “this is a traumatized girl who means well but has poor boundaries and Codependency Issues”, and some people see otto and think “he doesnt love subaru that much lol” and sweep his own codependency and Issues under the rug. and then you look at the narrative and, like you said anon, otto is allowed to have fun dynamics with everyone while still being Fixated on subaru. rem hasnt had much of a chance in that category yet.
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hazy-pink-skies · 6 months
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if one more insecure twitter loser calls eremin a crackship im gonna scream
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frogenthusiastt · 1 year
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HI ILY
8 for the writing prompt :)
8: Sunbathing
The early morning is still.
The dunes are faded amber in the early hour, like they haven't yet remembered how to be real. Vash has always appreciated the liminality of this time, when the first sun has just returned and most people are still asleep. Very few times has danger found him when anyone with a gun is still in bed working off their inebriation, and greed and violence has not yet taken shape on the tip of their tongues.
He watches the scenery come to life from underneath the cliff he's perched on, breathing in the air on just the right side of cool and letting the world breathe its life back into him. He feels limitless, like the borders of his body is still about as tangible as the breaking of light against the horizon.
Wolfwood has never understood his predilection towards early hours. He's always been the type of man to come alive in the evening, suddenly setting out to do tasks or getting engrossed in a book or sharing a beer or ten. Whenever Vash wants to ask him for a favor he knows to do it after 6 pm and it'll cut the otherwise lengthy process in half. For all that he loves to bitch and moan to the point Vash suspects it's just some complicated form of affection at this point, sometimes it's nice to just get straight to the point.
It's just before 5 am right now, and Vash knows Wolfwood will probably threaten to do bodily harm if he so much as breathes in his direction for the next 4 hours, but Vash is content to just sit here and breathe in time and pale light and let himself be until that time comes.
That's another thing Wolfwood has never understood about him. One of the parts he does his darnedest to hide in order to not make people uncomfortable. You know, he'd told him once, you can sit really still when you don't think anyone sees you. It's like you– I don't know, you zone out for a moment and suddenly it's like you're not really there anymore.
Vash had laughed him off, told him he shouldn't fault a man for getting stiff at his old age. He doesn't know how to explain this, that if he silences the motion of his body he can hear the rest of the world singing back to him.
Vash puts a hand on the ground and feels the red rust of desert patina in the back of his mouth. Further down, further than that it's years and years of basalt, interlaced with streaks of quartz and tourmaline and calcium tungstate sleeping in the shadowy depths of the planet. It tastes like salt licorice, coats his gums in salty film and makes him feel cool and sturdy and safe.
When he breathes in he can feel the nitrogen and oxygen molecules tumbling in their usual fervent skirmish, dancing around each other and rolling around in his lungs, in his bloodstream. Carbon dioxide comes in with its delightful sweetness, tasting of joy and life and flushing his cheeks red. Methane and ozone taste metallic, buzzing sharp-slap that remind him of his brother.
And then, joyous of all, is the sun now coming in with its loving weight, dousing his limbs and his body and his mind in warm golden love. Vash breathes in slow, breathes out even slower and lets himself indulge in this cycle his body desperately craves, more than any water or food. The sun loves him, the sun has always loved him and cared for him and nurtured him, from the moment he was born and a little before that still.
The vibrating hot fills his bloodstream in a rush and his eyelids droop closed, lets the thinnest expanses of skin drink up the electromagnetic affection from his face, his neck, his wrists, the soles of his feet. It's hard to think like this, when the sun is in him and around him and making him drowsy and giddy and excited and calm. This is probably what drugs feel like to humans, something that had confused him when he was young and had tried them for the first time. The blissed out faces of people dancing and singing and kissing had confused him, then, when all he tasted was 3,4-methylenedioxy-N-methylamphetamine and 3,4-methylene-dioxyprovalerone and bath salts, but later it had clicked, on a morning just like this one.
Vash breathes in and it's love-love-love, pure and unfiltered, golden and sultry and dripping down his veins like honey. The sun is in him and its child watches from her skirts and his bones feel aligned for the first time in a long time, like something in him has shifted just slightly to the left and everything had been fine all along.
Time drips from an olive branch, heavy and languid. Wind jostles his hair and sends ripples against the fine hairs on his arms, wakes his nerves up with sparks, reminds him of the outside world. He opens his eyes slowly, adjusting back over the imprints of light still dancing across his sclera.
Two ladies are making their way across the main street, hair perfectly fixed and chattering amongst themselves. Escorts, probably. Vash can see no other reason why someone would look so presentable at this time of day. A couple of construction workers have gathered at the saloons, fixing themselves some coffee before their labor begins. He regards them all fondly, the well oiled machine in how they move around each other like a song and dance, the murmur of their greetings and the pat-pat-pat of their feet against the ground.
One lady makes her way from the hotel they had been staying at, russet hair bouncing as she walks with purpose and– oh that's Meryl. She's walking straight towards him, even though he doubts she can see him from here. It's always been an uncanny ability of hers, the way she can figure anyone out from the moment she meets them: what their favorite flavor of ice cream is, how they like to sleep, where they're most likely to be at just shy of 6 am in the morning. Vash works motion back into his body as she makes her way up the hill, willing the glow of his skin back into something more standard for a human man. He's not surprised when she comes up to sit next to him. Maybe that's why she understands people so well - she always makes sure to be placed at their level, always makes sure to look people in the eye.
"Morning Mr Vash," she says kindly.
"Morning," he replies.
She turns to look out the postcard view in front of them. "Oh wow, that's a mighty beautiful sight! I can see all the people of town from up here."
He smiles. He knew she'd get it. "Yeah."
They sit in amicable silence for a few minutes, basking in the sunlight, knees knocking together. She hums a tune he hasn't heart before. He listens.
After a few minutes she stretches and yawns, standing back up and patting the dust of her skirt with a firm pat pat. "Would you like to join me for breakfast? Food always tastes better with company."
He takes her outstretched hand, feels the warmth of it as he stands.
"Yeah. I'd like that."
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sux2be · 16 days
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taking my heart out and stomping into the ground dont you dare get another friend crush. dont fucking do it.
#ITS SO FRUSTRATING !!!!!#i think someone is cool and then they pay an attention to me and i am lost#i am drawing them pics and making them little gifts and thinking about all the fun things we can do together#i spend my free time thinking of reasons to talk to them#u might be like hmm this sounds like a romantic crush#but i can assure it is not#it CAN turn into one over many years#i kno bc one did and i suffer even more for it#its Very Obvious bc when its a non-platonic crush i will get suuuuuper possesive and jealous#but UGH friend crushes suck especially bc i dont have the bandwidth to rly pursue them AND#i always feel like i come at it too intensely so in order to escape rejection i run#its fine i am fine i can be Normal about things#its okay i will hide from this one like ive done all the others#its this person named Toad and they are so cool they do like climate activisim and they support local punk bands#its also reminding me of Dev. i am so sorry dev.#he was this super cool ass dude that i worked with for 4 years and he was So Neat and interesting to talk to#he knew soooooo much about cooking and he was really well read#and his humor was great. super dry and sarcastic i was always laughing lol#i wanted to be friends with him SO BAADDD#and he has no social media or even like. texting#so before i left i demanded his email address#and I emailed him One time and he replied and i ghosted him#bc here is another issue: i cant fucking communicate#how keep friends if u dont talk to them????#anyways the brain worms are eating good tonight
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thwackk · 1 year
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Omg, you are single-handedly getting me into Halbarry, can you please tell me which comics or media I need to consume to get more of them! Thank you so much ur so cool!!!!
i’ve infected you with the virus omg i’m sorry to tell you there is no cure. uhhmmm… only comic i can remember off the top of my head is the flash and green lantern: the brave and the bold! it’s short and fun and just real wholesome. good content
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callilouv · 1 year
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its yearning hours oh myg od
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