#yet it always seems to be the ones with all these skills complaining. yes it takes time but so does art & writing which yall dont care abou

[sonamytrash]

Trouble

Warnings: smut in later chapters, fem reader, swearing, suggestive themes. Not beta read. Reader is a vet/vet medic

Thank you for over 100 followers. Honestly, I only started writing fics for my own self-indulgence. I decided to share them with my fellow degenerates, and it seems that some of you like them, so here's the first small chapter to my new one. ❤️

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Levi opens the door abruptly, making you jump. You pout at him playfully. "You scared me!" He narrows his eyes at you, "It's late," he says sternly. "What do you want?" He asks. You roll your eyes and walk into his office as he closes the door behind you both. Placing a pile of reports on his desk, you reply to his question, "The shitty reports you asked for that took me all evening." You complain. "And I know you never sleep, but shouldn't you be trying to get your three hours in?" You tease.

Levi smirks at your response. "Ah, yes. I did ask for those reports. Thank you." Taking a seat at his desk and giving a quick glance at the reports before looking back at you.

"And not right now." He places the reports aside and crosses his arms. "I have things to take care of that require my attention." His eyes then shift to you, "Speaking of attention, what else do you want?" His tone softening just a bit with a playful edge.

He respects your work. You are always efficient in what you do, which is why he often lets your tone and lack of respect towards him slide. Although you're not one of his direct subordinates, he still entertains more of your playful personality than he would tolerate from anyone else.

Truthfully, hiring a veterinary medic was one of Hanges more practical ideas. Having someone at the headquarters to provide and teach appropriate health care for the horses had saved a lot of money while costing very little to hire you. The overall survival rate of horses was much improved now that the soldiers knew better basic first aid, and the horses could return to headquarters for more appropriate treatment if they survived. Many of their losses weren't necessarily due to being directly crushed or eaten by Titans, but many surviving horses would die of injuries and infections upon the journey or arriving home. Your knowledge and skill had meant more horses were surviving out on the front lines and being able to recover when they returned. The cost of constantly replacing horses was drastically reduced. So even if he hadn't been on instructions to be on his best behaviour, what you brought to the regiment had genuinely earned his respect. Not only were you an intelligent woman, but you were downright infuriating. That sassy attitude, the playful humour you brought wherever you went and yet when necessary, you were stern, professional, and eloquent. It had made you popular amongst the regiment. And Levi wasn't immune. He really couldn't resist your charms. But God did he want to fuck that smart mouth of yours quiet sometimes.

Levi is taken from his thoughts when you reply, pouting. "You made such a big fucking deal about these reports that I've spent all evening making sure they were done, I would like to have had a hot bath and maybe read a book."

Levi rolls his eyes at your playful pout. "Well, since you are already here, you might as well stay and assist me with some paperwork," he says with a soft chuckle. He then proceeds to tidy his desk, placing the reports you brought in the correct pile and placing a smaller pile opposite him for you to work on.

"It shouldn't take too long and then you can go and have your well-deserved hot bath, princess." he adds with a smirk.

You bring your hand to your hips. "Either you're trying to torture me or just want an excuse to spend more time with me." You tease, taking a seat across from him. This kind of banter was the norm between the both of you, but he was much more receptive when it was behind closed doors.

A small smirk forms on Levi's lips, "You caught me," he replies sarcastically before he continues reading and signing paperwork.

You too glance over some of the papers and organise them into appropriate piles for him, "Busy day?" You ask, trying to spark some conversation.

"Just the usual," Levi says, his voice monotone as he signs the paperwork. "Paperwork, training, and keeping the brats in check." He pauses for a moment before looking back up at you. "Speaking of training, we'll have to arrange for another session soon." You grimace at his words. He insisted on the occasional sparring session to keep your self-defence up to scratch. "I'm not a fighter, levi. You beat the shit out of me every time, and even then, I know you're going soft on me." You groan playfully, "Literally everyone comes to watch me get beaten up." While you felt like he was trying to make your life difficult with these training sessions, it actually came from a place of care. He wanted you to be able to defend yourself.

Levi leans back in his seat, "You know I only do it to make you stronger," he says with a small grin. "And as for the spectators, what can I do? You're quite popular among the ranks." He then pauses for a moment before adding, "But I can always arrange for a more private session if that's what you prefer." His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than necessary, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. A flirtatious exchange wasn't uncommon for the two of you, but how you fucking wished he would make good on the things he said.

You were instantly drawn to his suggestion and change in demeanour. "Oh yeah? And do you often give people private training sessions?" You say raising an eyebrow.

Levi chuckles softly, "You know I don't," he replies, his expression softening just a bit. "But for you, I can make an exception." He then shifts his gaze to the paperwork in front of him, pushing aside the distracting thoughts. "Anyway, you're distracting me," he says, beginning to sift through the papers again. But it's too late, your interest has been piqued, "Maybe that's not such a bad idea. What would we be working on during those sessions?" You ask, wanting to keep pressing the new suggestion.

Levi gives you a small, subtle smirk. "Hmm, we could work on whatever you feel you need improvement on," he says. "Maybe your form or your speed," he suggests. Almost throwing you into thinking you had misinterpreted his earlier tone. Before he follows up with a hint of mischief, "But whatever we work on, you can be sure that I'll push you to your limits."

You smirk in response, "Who knows, captain, maybe I'll push you to yours."

Levi smirks at your flirtatious comment and arches an eyebrow in amusement, "Is that so?" he replies in a teasing tone, his smirk widening. "I highly doubt that." He then leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "But I won't deny that I would enjoy the challenge." You mimic his movements, leaning forward in response, and meeting his gaze, "Oh I'm sure you would."

Levi's eyes linger on yours for a moment, studying your playful expression. "You're trouble," he says in a low voice before leaning back in his seat. "But I have to admit, I rather enjoy it." He then picks up a pen and begins scribbling on the papers in front of him, his mind wandering as he tries to suppress the arousal between his legs, relieved there's a desk inbetween the two of you.

"So I've been told," you reply playfully, finishing up the last of the papers he gave you to organise, giving you both a few moments of silence before you speak up again. "Do you think your private training session with a troublesome girl like me would whip me into shape?" You ask him seductively, being determined to see how far you can push him, having taken note of the tensing of his shoulders and how he occasionally bites his lip.

Levi finishes his scribbling, taking a deep breath as he places the pen he's gripping down before looking up at you. "Not a chance," he replies, his tone firm but playful. "But perhaps it would tire you out enough to be a good girl for at least a little while," he adds with a smirk of his own.

#levi ackerman #levi aot #levi smut #levi x reader #levi x y/n #captain levi x reader #rivaille heichou #rivaille ackerman #fanfiction smut #reader insert #levi attack on titan #attack on titan

[ms-fandomgirl]

Studying Headcanons

Summary: Morning, afternoon, evening. The grind never seems to stop, but it can be a little less painful when you’re studying with your favorite Haikyuu boys!

Pairings: Oikawa Tooru x Reader; Akaashi Keiji x Reader; Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

Genre: Fluff! No warnings.

Words: 1,464

Cross-posted on Ao3!

O i k a w a   T o o r u

Diffused early morning rays bathed Oikawa’s sleepy face in a soft glow, making you want to give anything to witness the scene firsthand. The world shone brighter when Oikawa’s name appeared on your phone screen, even if it was 9 o’clock at night for you. He gave you a quiet greeting, and you smiled and returned the favor, idly flipping your textbook open.  

It’s just a fact: being on opposite sides of the world from Oikawa Tooru sucked. These FaceTimes and phone calls were the closest you could get to being with him in person. Time zone differences made it so that you only had a couple hours of sacred shared time in a day. Therefore, you were determined to not waste a second of them. The second Oikawa began, so do you.

Ambitious, driven, and clever; it’s no surprise that Oikawa exceled in studying, and this was one skill he was determined to pass on to you. After complaining one day that you could never study well, Oikawa took it upon himself to become your studying mentor, showing you every tip and trick he knew. The biggest of these was finding yourself a study partner: someone who could keep you on track and encourage you, yet not distract you from getting work done. For him, it was Iwazumi. For you, it was Oikawa.

A mostly quiet but firm presence on your phone screen, Oikawa made sure you were working on what you were supposed to. The second you tried to scroll through Instagram or any social media, he would know, and he would tell you. It was honestly terrifying how he could tell, even if you were on your laptop. You two quickly fell into a steady routine, with him doing his morning routine while you suffered (a little less) in silence over your studies.

Of course, you didn’t spend the whole call in silence. Oikawa knew the importance of study breaks after all. Therefore, you were given the rare chance to see a side of Oikawa that many didn’t know existed. The quiet, reflective side that only appeared when he was most comfortable. The thoughtful chats over a shared cup of coffee (even if it was much too late for you to be drinking any), and the small, routine actions made you feel as though you knew intimate secrets about him.

Yes, studying with Oikawa had its challenges, but you wouldn’t change it for the world. And when you got an “A” in the class you were sure you’d fail, you also realized you found a bond deeper than you had ever known.  

A k a a s h i   K e i j i

Soft shadows were beginning to lengthen in the afternoon light as you stepped into the cozy café. As always, Akaashi was there before you, sipping some tea in the booth that was unofficially yours. After ordering your favorite drink and pastry, you settled in next to him, a mixture of happiness and anxiousness settling in your stomach. Happiness because, well, you got to spend the whole afternoon in a coffee shop that looked like it belonged in a Hallmark movie with THE Akaashi Keiji. Anxiousness because Akaashi was a harsh proofreader, and you were sure your poor paper would comeback with more red ink than black.

When you were first partnered to proofread Akaashi’s paper in your English class, you had no clue what you were getting yourself into. Akaashi proofread like there was no tomorrow, and the first time you got your paper back, you were tempted to scrap your whole idea and start over. Of course, Akaashi wouldn’t let you do this, instead patiently explaining all of his markings and reasonings to you.

Now, two years later, Akaashi was your number one confidant when it came to writing papers. From brainstorming to final drafts, he was your go-to and sounding board, and you acted in much the same way for him. Even though you were both in different classes and writing different topics, papers were still papers, so the fundamental process never changed.

You weren’t naïve enough to believe that continuing to meet your proofreader partner two years after the class was normal. Despite this, it was easy to consider Akaashi as part of your norm. From his calm attitude to sharp mind, he had crept into your life slowly yet steadily, like a trail of ivy resolutely climbing up a wall, exploring for any niches and crannies to cling onto and never let go.

After several minutes of searching, you triumphantly presented your paper to him with a grin on your face. It was crinkled around the edges, and one page was dangling from the edge of the staple holding everything together. Nonetheless, Akaashi accepted it in his way of respectful grace that you could never quite seem to master. In return, he unhooked his binder, pulling his paper free of its folder. Organized, crisp, and put-together: Akaashi’s natural modus operandi. The more you thought about it, the more it seemed to be a miracle you two got along at all.  

Glancing down at the title of his final project, the paper he had been slaving away on for the past month, you felt a warmth that only continued to grow with each word. Your relationship didn’t make sense at first glance, but that hardly mattered. Happenstance may have helped you meet, but you were determined to stand by Akaashi’s side for as long as you could, exploring any possibility to come. Apparently, Akaashi felt the same way.

“Comfort in Chaos: The Beauty of Contradictions

A Memoir by Akaashi Keiji”

K u r o o   T e t s u r o u  

Silver streams of moonlight illuminated the library table you and Kuroo had decided to call home for the night. Wrappers of fast food long since eaten were pushed into the corner as diagram trees and flash cards created a messy mosaic, the white board next to them looking like the scribblings of a mad scientist.  To the side, two bodies laid sprawled across the worn carpet, furiously solving the problems before them. During broad daylight, this behavior would have most certainly resulted in a reprimand from a librarian. However, due to the late hour, you two basically had the whole floor to yourself.

In a triumphant cry, Kuroo had reached an answer. Slamming his pencil down next to him, he waited with a satisfied grin on his face as you finished not a second after. After giving him an exaggerated eye-roll, you leaned over to compare answers, pleased that you had both reached the same result. With a quick high-five, you moved onto the next question in the practice test.

 It was always like this between you two. Everything was a competition, from who could finish their problems first to who could get the most answers correct. When you had first met Kuroo, you found this behavior to be annoying at best. Always beating you to raise your hand in class, you had labeled him as a classic teacher’s pet and wanted to leave things at that.

However, fate had other plans for you. Forced into a disastrous lab where your third group member ruined the experiment and ditched halfway through, you and Kuroo had to put your differences aside to not fail your assignment. After several late nights of lab writeups and gossiping about your flakey third member, you found that Kuroo was actually someone you wanted to work with long after the assignment was completed. Thankfully, Kuroo shared your sentiment, and you two quickly became attached to the hip both in and out of the classroom.

 Obviously smart to a fault, Kuroo was also incredibly charismatic and funny. It simply wasn’t fair. If you told him you needed to ace the next test, you could count on him to drag you through study session after study session, making sure you knew what you were supposed to no matter how much you wanted to give up. You admired that about him, that determination that seemed so much a part of him that it ran through his veins like blood. While you had great plans for the future, you could quickly become overwhelmed by the path you had set for yourself. However, with Kuroo by your side, you knew that you could weather whatever storm came your way, trusting him to always have your back.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I wrote these ages ago but forgot to post them until now. They were a fun little writing exercise for me where I tried to write a scene with no dialogue. I hope they motivate you during finals/test season!

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #akaashi x reader #kuroo x reader #haikyuu fluff #oikawa tooru #akaashi keiji #kuroo tetsurou #oikawa tooru x you #akaashi keiji x you #kuroo tetsuro x you #study headcanons #ms fandomgirl writes

[mummywrappers]

Cleo de Nile in G3

I’ve seen a few posts of some people complaining about how Cleo in g3 has nothing to her except being Frankie’s girlfriend and the problem is that most of the people who complain about this have admitted that they don’t even watch the show…

G3 Cleo is my favorite character and I’m gonna make this post to talk about her hobbies, her struggles, her responsibilities and everything she likes/cares about. If all you see her as is just being Frankie’s girlfriend, then that’s on you! Either watch the show or just stop complaining about something you don’t even watch or know anything about.

Cleo’s hobbies/what she like to do:

I’m gonna start with the basic and most known thing Cleo likes which is social media, how she wants to have more followers, be more popular and have all the attention. She vlogs, unboxes gifts, does grwm and dance videos. She follows and is obsessed with monster celebrities such as Pearl Ryuzaki and Autumn Patch.

She also loves dancing and is in fact the head of the dance committee and even though she has that responsibility, she’s still in a lot of other clubs, including sports. She also takes extracurriculars.

Cleo loves planning whether it’s party planning or making a list of what type of ''eye scream'' each monster in monster high would like to have in the school rally. Her excellent planning skills and leadership helps her be very persuasive and charismatic as she got Autumn Patch a really famous celebrity in the Monster world to perform at the Monster Ball.

She loves acting and performing even though she thinks Nefera is better at it than her. She loves her scarabs and takes care of them as if they were her children. She loves and cares about monster high, she even protected it with one of her amulets. She loves jewellery, has a huge closet full of them and follows/is obsessed with Pearl Ryuzaki because she loves her jewellery designs. She admires humans and envies them because she loves the concept of being truly alive.

Struggles:

First struggle I want to talk about is that she has a perfect older sister that always overshadows her. Nefera is great at everything and not to mention she’s also next in line to be Pharaoh. They have a one-sided rivalry that I love so much. Most of the time it seems that Nefera is unaware of how Cleo feels, but there was a scene when Nefera was hanging on a cliff where she said “why do you have to do things like that” to Cleo after Cleo stole Cleopatra’s necklace to get more attention and get the role of Cleopatra instead of Nefera. Cleo is slowly trying to accept and get used to the fact that Nefera is next in line to be queen, so she’s trying to find what she wants to be in the future and her own way in the world. She believes it’ll be fame.

Her parents love her, but they obviously prefer and love Nefera more than her and it shows. When Cleo came to visit them the first thing they asked her was “is something wrong with Nefera?” and when she told them everything was fine, her parents continued to talk about how they miss Nefera and how they think she's the best, etc etc... They throw jewellery and bling at her thinking that will make her happy. When Cleo asked them for a request her mother immediately said, “didn't we just give you something? Yes, that bracelet!”.

Lastly, I would love to talk about her song in “Look Over There”. In that series, there was a spark that came to life and whenever it hit someone, it makes them sing about how they exactly feel (Like how it made Heath, Toralei and Deuce talk about their parental issues). So in Cleo’s song she talked A LOT about her struggles, how she feels like no one takes her seriously, how she tries so hard yet no one sees or notices, how she feels like she will never be enough for herself or anyone, she cares about how others view/see her and that bothers her “Why do I always care about what they think?”, how she's scared people won't like her and won't stick around, she wants to always be on top and doesn’t want to let her guard down.

Notice how NOTHING of what I said has ANYTHING to do with Frankie. If all you view Cleo as is Frankie’s girlfriend, then that’s on YOU! Also, Clankie is literally the most developed couple on the show and the couple where both characters are most developed, yet it’s the only one you complain about? Idk but it seems to me like you’re just mad Cleo likes Frankie instead of Deuce now. The only couple you complain about is the sapphic one.. if it bothers you so much stick to G1!

ALSO, how some of you are complaining about how she has a poster of Frankie in her Monster Fest doll… that’s literally only the second Clankie thing we got in dolls from Cleo (the first one was a picture in her ss1 locker). In fact, Frankie has WAY MORE Clankie crumbs on their dolls, (their ss1 locker has a picture of them and Cleo making bracelets together, their phone in their Amped Up doll, their ss3 doll has a laptop where they have a heart sticker with their and Cleo’s hands, their Welcome Committee doll’s poster, and now their Monster Fest doll has Cleo’s heart as a sticker in their bag and they are wearing the bracelet that they made with Cleo in their SS1 locker) yet I don’t see you complaining? Or question Frankie's importance? Not to mention the posters in Monster Fest are supposed to be of singers and musicians that’s why Clawdeen has the Hissfits poster, why Lagoona has a Catty Poster, and if you didn’t know Frankie is a singer and a musician, so of course Cleo will choose her partner as her poster, but Cleo isn’t a singer or a musician (she sings sometimes but very rarely and wouldn’t consider herself a singer or a musician), so why would Frankie have a poster of her? That wouldn’t make sense.

Season 2 SPOILER:

***

Frankie was supposed to have a poster of a new character named Phoenix that will show up in season 2, but they changed it probably because it’s too early to reveal her design now. So, they just changed it to a poster of Frankie and their friends.

***

In conclusion, I would love for Cleo to have more scenes and interact with new different characters because she’s my fav <3, but saying she’s only Frankie’s girlfriend now is factually incorrect.

#cleo de nile #monster high #clankie #frankie stein #cleuce #deuce gorgon #monster high g3 #my posts

[yourlocaltrashpandaa]

Mango Lemonade 🥭

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Lmk one-shot

{macaque x fem!reader}

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You heard a ‘tink’ sound hit your apartment window from your kitchen. It didn’t scare you much since you know who the person was at your window.

You sighed as you walked over to window. There you saw him, well mostly his eyes that had purple glow to them as he perched himself on your balcony railing.

Opening the window, you greeted him. “Welcome back, Macaque.” You moved away from the window as Macaque jumped down from the railing and walked over to the opened window.

Enter your home through your window, a smirk was present on his face. “You act like I come here every night.” He said.

“That’s because you do.” You said rolling your eyes at him.

Since the aftermath of Lady Bone Demon’s takeover, Macaque has been visiting you. He seems to think your home is his home and he stays the night yet leaves when the sun rises. Macaque walked passed you and into your kitchen. You followed knowing exactly what he’s here for.

“Here to raid my fridge again?” You asked him folding your arms across your chest.

“Yes, and your pantry.” Macaque chuckled as he searched through your pantry, his tail swishing from side to side.

“Stay away from my peach chips. Those were a gift from Wukong.” You said.

Macaque scoffed, his tail flicked in irritation. “Like I want those things anyway. Besides I’m here to steal your spicy chip supply.” He said.

“Nooo! Those are for my rainy days. You can’t take them, you freeloader!” You exclaimed rushing over to him, trying to stop him from taking your spicy chips by jumping on his back to swat the chip bags that he had in his paws.

Macaque chuckled trying to push you away with his body playfully. “Yet you have complained to me about heartburn when you eat them. That’s why I take them so I can’t hear you complain.” He said.

“I like the burn and you’re just saying that to be greedy!” You exclaimed.

“No. I’m saving you from tears later on.” Macaque said.

“I thought you said you weren’t a hero?” You smirked as you gave up on the chips he took.

His tail flicked around. “Touché..” He said. Macaque walked into the living room and plopped himself on your couch.

‘My mother was right. Never feed wild animals because they always come back.’ You thought as you watched the monkey munch away at your chips.

Pouting at the fact that your chips were being eaten, you just remembered what you had for him in your fridge. You were on a lemonade kick for the last few days and decided to put your skills to the test.

Just the other day, she made a peach lemonade and a certain someone drank it all without you getting so much as a taste of your work. After putting into your mental notes to smack that old monkey upside the head whenever you go to Flower Fruit Mountain next time, you looked for the clear plastic cup with lid and straw that you hid in the back of your fridge.

Macaque’s ears twitched, hearing you rummaging around in your fridge, glass jars clanking around and you cursing underneath your breath when things would jump out of the fridge to attack you and fall to the floor.

“You okay in there, kiddo?” Macaque held back a chuckle as he looked over to watch you.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good. This reminded me that I need to organize the fridge.” You said.

Macaque smirked as his tail swished in amusement then asked. “What are you looking for in there anyway?”

You didn’t answer until you walked over to him with clear plastic cup in hand. The black furred simian narrowed his eyes at it then looked up at you. He wasn’t sure what you put in that cup so he put his guard up.

“What is that?” He asked.

You noticed the look on his face and you frowned. “Don’t get all suspicious. You’ve known me for while. It’s just lemonade that I made,” You said. “I saved some for you.”

“Why?”

‘Did this b*tch just ask me why?’ You scoffed at him, rolling your eyes.

“Never mind then, I’ll just drink it myself.” You said.

“Wait,” You stopped before you put the straw in your mouth. “Give it here.” Macaque said.

You handed him the cup, he took it from you. He peered at the dark orange liquid in cup, he shook the cup a bit, making the lemonade swirl around.

“You’re acting like it’s poison.” You frowned a bit, smiling amusingly at his actions.

“Knowing you, it might be.” He smirked.

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?! Just take a sip already or I’m taking it from you!”

Macaque laughed then took a sip from the cup. His eyes widened.

“It’s sweet.”

You raised an eyebrow at his comment. “Is that a good or bad thing?” You asked.

“It depends on what you were going for.” Macaque took longer drink from cup.

“Well, I like it sweet more than sour.”

“It’s good. I guess you found my sweet tooth, Y/n.” Macaque said looking over at you.

“I guess I did.” You replied.

“Make it again sometime.”

“Sure.”

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Honestly not my best work. But I hope if anyone sees this, enjoy!

#lmk #x female reader #lego monkie kid #x fem!reader #lego monkie kid x reader #lmk macaque #lmk x reader #six eared macaque #oneshot #macaque x reader #lmk fluff #lmk fandom #lmk headcanon #macaque x y/n

[missingmayuri]

At Midnight

Mayuri X Reader

It wasn't often you were asked to stay behind for extra work, Captain Kurotsuchi usually preferring the company of someone he trusted more. Someone like Akon or Hiyosu. In the past Mayuri was very reluctant to let regular workers into the lab past hours but more recently he began to do just that for reasons unknown. Most of the time he called upon you, unable to really understand why. Not only that but your late nights with the Captain always played out much different to what others in the squad experienced. Some experienced anger, most experienced dismissal.

Not you though.

You experienced intelligent conversation and consideration, sometimes even an acknowledgement of your skills and smarts. It was very unlike him, that much you knew but you appreciated having a mostly quiet and spacious place to work in. You had no reason to complain and one day you would thank the captain for the opportunity to work in such conditions.

Standing at the cold steel table you place your scalpel to the side, wiping off the specs of blood with your stained cloth. Tonight the Captain needed help dissecting some specimens, claiming he needed a steady hand for more delicate veins and arteries. Despite knowing Mayuri had steady enough hands you didn't question his choice, doing as he asked every time. It was always the best to stay on his good side.

You wrap a cleaner cloth around the dismantled miniature hollow to stop it being exposed to open air, placing it in a nearby cooler box for even more protection and writing down your findings in the notebook Mayuri had supplied you with. It was black leather and guilded gold down the spine, filled to the brim with knowledge the Captain insisted you commit to memory. You had once questioned him many moons ago about the nature of such a gift, knowing nobody else had received a thing. Let alone something so beautiful. You were met with a huff and a wave of a ghostly white hand in response.

"Have you ever considered I want my squad members to take pride in their research? To display it in the proper manner and with the upmost respect?"

You still didn't understand weeks later if he was being sarcastic or genuine but knowing Mayuri Kurotsuchi it was probably the latter.

You take the specimen over to the shelf, alphabetized by species name and size, making sure you placed the container on the correct shelf. The Captain seemed in a better mood today and you wanted to keep it that way, able to hear little chuckles and noises of excitement and exhilaration from the other side of the room as he looked closely at the hollow before him with a large gleeful grin, mixing various compounds into his beaker close by.

"Yes! Excellent! What a fantastic subject!"

You watch him closely, always fascinated by the love of his work and the care those slender and nimble hands put into it. You find a soft smile making it's way onto your face as you continue to stare, getting lost in those deep golden eyes that shone through the dim lights.

It doesn't last long, your smile suddenly replaced with a deep blush upon being noticed. You frantically apologise, turning back to the shelf as you suddenly hear sandals tapping on the cold lab floor. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, thoughts all over the place and unable to pin one down. All you knew is all of them involved Mayuri.

Would he be mad at you staring?

Was be going to shout, blame you for breaking his concentration?

Everything was swirling like bloody water down a sink and in your sheer panic and hearing the footsteps halt did your mind piece everything together.

All the late shifts, just you and him.

The expensive notebook.

The lack of a raised voice and the compliments.

He couldn't be. Right?

"Care to explain why you were staring?"

His voice was calm, yet had a slight amused edge to it, shocking you so much no words could exit your mouth. You could produce no more then mumbles and stutters, his mere voice taking the wind out of your sails completely. You could hear him chuckling behind you, breath hitching as he turns you to face him. Your face surly couldn't get any hotter, immediately proven wrong when Mayuri takes your hand gently and pulls you to the table he was working at.

You couldn't think, mind a foggy mess as a scalpel is once again placed in your hand but this time over the specimen the Captain had been working on.

"I have a little experiment I want to try. It's going to take a few nights to complete"

Your hand was shaking over the hollow, unable to find a decent grip as you tried to focus on both it and the Captain's words.

What sort of experiment did he want to try and why did it involve you?

A pair of slender arms wrapping around your waist, kiss to your cheek leaving a black lip mark was enough to freeze you completely and grip the tool tighter.

"I want to see how well my best worker works with distinctions"

The blush depends but this time accompanying a smile.

You wouldn't mind a few more late night shifts after all.

#missfics #mayuri x reader #mayuri kurotsuchi #bleach #bleach mayuri #bleach oneshot

[iamthecomet]

Non horny thoughts for you:

Breakfast in bed Dewther. Which one cooks?

I want to say Dew. Aether always, always takes care of him, and this is one of the ways Dew loves to reciprocate. I think Dew is a great cook, I like to think it’s his greatest skill besides playing guitar and god he loves feeding his boy*.

With him being an early riser and morning person, he has no trouble waking, whipping something up, and waking Aether up to the smell of yummy stuff. Maybe they indulge in the most mind numbingly silly cartoons as they eat together in bed, cozy, and full, and so content.

Try not to think about them feeding each other, and Dew swiping a thumb over some food that’s managed to get itself on the corner of Aether’s mouth. Try not to think about the mundane conversations they have over breakfast now that Dew is back home. They just talk, about anything and everything.

God. This has me thinking of their normal life, how they live outside of abbey responsibilities.

*not in the kink way

Yes yes, ALL OF THIS YES. Yeah thinking about their normal life is a SLIPPERY SLOPE but it's one that is totally worth falling down. I go back and forth between early riser Dew and not a morning person Dew all the time. I can never seem to pick which headcanon I like better for him. BUT I think Aether always sleeps in if he can--one of the last people to wake up, much less actually get out of bed. So whether Dew gets up with the sun or not--he's up before Aether. And I have always been of the mind that Dew can cook. That he likes to cook (alone mostly. He's not good at sharing the kitchen). It's methodical, meditative. And Dew's love language is for sure acts of service. No one can convince me otherwise. So think about Dew, waking up before Aether. Morning sun pooling into the bed they shared last night. Aether's out. Mouth open, snoring softly, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. Dew presses a soft kiss between his horns and slips out of bed. He's gone for a while, but he knows Aether won't miss him. He makes coffee, drinks a cup while he cooks. Says good morning to whoever else is up and around. They've all slept a lot more since getting home--catching up on all their lost sleep over the course of touring.

Dew plates breakfast, finds a tray (he glares at Aeon when he snickers and calls Dew a house wife), and loads it up with his and Aether's plates, his coffee, Aether's tea, and back to bed he goes. Aether wakes up when Dew kicks the door closed--a little harder than he means to, but the shock of that wears off when Dew grins at him over steaming breakfast. Dew hands Aether the tray, crawls back into bed. And yeah, they definitely watch stupid morning cartoons, and eat curled up with each other, legs tangled together. They talk about normal shit. What they want to do today (Aether promised Copia he'd help him with some paper work. Dew promised Rain and Aeon he'd play video games with them). Dew tells Aether stories from tour he hasn't gotten to yet (mostly he just complains about how Aurora made them stop and see the largest ball of string). Dew pops strawberries into Aether's mouth as he talks, almost nonchalant. It's so easy, all of it. And when they're done, Dew puts the tray on the floor and lays back down, curling back around Aether with a content purr. Aether looks down at him, sinking his fingers into Dew's hair and scratching along his scalp. "What are you doing?" Dew yawns. "Nap time."

"We just woke up."

"No, you just woke up."

Dew's eyes flutter closed and he nuzzles closer, and Aether thinks that Copia's paperwork can wait a little bit longer.

#comet writes #vee #slice of life ghouls #dewther #soft soft boys #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #domestic ghouls

[good-beanswrites]

hi! may i request some mikoto + amane (platonic obvs) … anything? they are very dear to me 😭

Yes!!! Thank you so much for the request -- they really are such a good pair ;-; (The thing is, I had so many nice scenes in mind about how they parallel each other, but they wouldn't know or reveal that about each other so I kept restarting...) Anyway, here's something right after Mikoto's first trial/verdict!

Mikoto could pick up on someone’s bad mood from a mile away, though the skill was unnecessary when the other party very clearly and calmly informed him, “I’m in a bad mood.”

After refusing his offer, Amane turned back to a thick textbook she’d been taking notes on. Didn’t kids usually complain that school was already a prison? She must have wanted the full experience. He'd worked nonstop at his studies as well, but this was a new level. Amane often reminded him of his little sister, though she always took the extra step like this. His sister would have jumped at this opportunity to play a few rounds of their favorite card game.

“It’ll be fun!”

He flashed a smile, but it had no effect on her severe expression. “I know you’re just trying to comfort me about our verdicts. I refuse to be pitied.”

“Comfort and pity are two very different things. But anyway, it wasn’t either of those things.” He gave an easy shrug “To be honest, I’m just a little bored. It’s weird not having any work to do during the day.” 

Mikoto couldn’t remember the last time in his life he’d had so many hours to himself. A lot of the others were fun to play games with. A few of the sportier prisoners helped him stay active. He enjoyed smoking breaks with the other men. Still, he was left to his own devices for the majority of his time. It was maddening. He’d recently requested some more art supplies, having used up the last batch, but they had yet to come in. Now with the verdict announcement, he wasn’t sure they’d ever arrive.

“That is your own problem. I already have something to do.” Her eyes lingered on the cards for the briefest of moments before returning to the book. “I told you, I’m not in the mood for it.”

Regardless of her hostility, he took a seat beside her. He leaned his arms out on the table. “We don’t have to play the same game.” The last time they'd played as a big group, several prisoners pulling the tables together to fit everyone. Amane had kept very quiet, eyes darting around at the cards as she tried to keep up with the rules. Not many of the others noticed the frustration clear in her face. Mikoto wasn’t the type to let her win out of pity, though he had begun to mutter the rules and strategies to himself a bit more as the night went on… 

“Is there a game you liked to play at home?”

 “No. There was no time for games in the house.” 

“All work and no play… hah… I know what that’s like.” He slumped his cheek onto his arm, lazily shuffling the cards around. He felt bad for bothering the girl if she truly was upset. He thought it was the bad experience that made her reject him, he hadn’t realized there were also family issues attached. Usually he could read people well; maybe he was losing his touch. He seemed to be losing touch with a lot of things, these days.

He readied a game of solitaire. 

“Mikoto?” Amane kept her face turned away. “There was… one game.”

“Yeah?” Mikoto shuffled the cards back together. He slid them over to her. “You should teach me!” 

She didn’t touch them. “You probably already know it.”

“Nah, I only know a few games. I’m better with tarot cards, though those aren’t really the gaming type. Come on, what is it?”

She told him the name of the game, insisting it wouldn’t be worth playing. She kept her attention on the textbook, but her eyes weren’t reading any of it. 

“Ahh, I’ve heard of that one! We start with four cards, right?” He started dealing them out.

“No, five –” she pointed to the deck, urging him to add two more. 

“Right, right.” He laughed lightly. “And the goal is to get pairs, and put them in a pile, uhh, here.”

Amane shook her head. She shifted her body slightly towards him. “You must be thinking of a different game. There’s actually three piles for pairs. One here, one here, and when it’s your opponent’s turn…” 

Her eyes gleamed as she explained the rules. She pointed to various cards, telling him exact moves and point values. “And to win, you need to –” Her expression shifted. “You… you already knew all this.”

“Of course not!” He put on his most convincing smile. 

She deflated. “You’re not a very good liar.”

“Tch, tell that to the warden.”

His shoulders sagged along with her. If Amane could see right through him, why was the rest of Milgram still coming up with stories about what he did and didn’t do? “Well, I might already know the rules, but it’s been a long time since I’ve played. You can still give me a hand. Plus, if you really are in such a bad mood, it’ll be good to take a break from your studies. You should always take a break when things get too overwhelming, yeah?”

She gave him a withering stare.

“Eh? What’s that face for?”

“Alright, let’s play. You can go first.”

“I mean it, what was that look? Aw, come on…”

#milgram #mikoto kayano #amane momose #see - the thing is they both had crimes about 'protecting themself' but both would deny it was for that reason #they both seem to have some family trauma but would never admit it #theyre both used to putting on their best behavior and being 'good' for others but hardly realize that themselves #they are both in denial all the time !!!!! #so i tried to show them getting along for their own perceived reasons -- mikoto thinks he likes her because she reminds him of his sister #and amane thinks she likes him because hes being kind about their verdicts #and while both are right theyre Also drawn to each other because they are very similar at their core #and both have skills with reading people/picking up on cues making it tough to lie to one another #that forced honesty makes for a solid friendship haha! #i also remember a comment from yamanaka that amane would be the worst at card games because shed have trouble with the rules #she seems old enough to handle complex games but she probably never got to play a lot at home ;---; and mikoto probably learns a lot of #types of games (and tarot) so can connect with even more people #i thought long and hard on whether mikoto would let someone else win but he doesnt seem the type (plus amane would notice) #once again i know amane starts speaking in the plural but this comes a bit before that #yaay thank you so much for the request! this was really fun to do - i hope you enjoy! #ive thought a lot about amane and john but less on her and mikoto lol so this was nice :D #drabbles

[alifeasvivid]

83 and 84 ukus!

83. Intimate Artistry   84. Married to the Job  

ngl I am always still puzzled about what "intimate artistry" is because like.... that could literally mean almost anything. A long time ago, Iris sent me that one and that's how I got to the scene where the Thief of Spades ties Inspector Kirkland to a chair and paints on him XD

But this time around, I think I'd have Arthur as this phenomenal sculptor. His sculptures seem more real than people and the truth is they are that way because to him they are more real than people. More beautiful and more important. His clients' money is all that matters to him as far as other people are concered and he spends weeks upon months locked away in his studio.

As a boy, he wished for this skill--a deal with a faerie with a devlish bent--a wish for all of his skills, passion, talent, motivation, and joy to be directed only toward sculpting and that is what he was granted. He is a misanthrope of the highest order. He leaves the house only to visit the shrines of the fae, but all business is conducted via letter and photographs; food and supplies are delivered and completed projects are shipped away via service.

One day, having not ordered it and receiving no commission to work on it, a block of the purest white marble is delivered to Arthur's shop. He can surely recognize a gift when it one appears, but with no instructions, he is nearly driven mad by this beautiful specimen. What should he make out of such a thing? What could he possibly think beautiful enough to match its perfection?

He spends days simply staring at it, smoothing his hands over it, threatening it with a chisel. Stubborn thing. The faeries surely sent it to him for the express purpose of driving him mad. He suddenly wishes he had someone to complain about it to.

Out of spite, out of pure defiance, Arthur finally puts his chisel to the stone. Once he starts, he cannot stop. For one year, he hardly sleeps or eats. Work outward from that first impulse of longing simply for a sympathetic ear, Arthur reveals a stunning young man from the marble. A young man with strong limbs, good shoulders, fine, boyish features, and the smallest softness on his tummy, with a smile Arthur has never seen on anyone, anywhere. A silly grin that his hands recalled from dreams his mind tries to forget.

Yet now he is tortured again. The realness of his statue is not real enough. It doesn't stop Arthur from embracing his love, caressing every cold line of him, every smooth expanse of hard, unfeeling marble. Arthur kisses the statue's lips, wants to hear them say his name.

When the time of Imbolc arrives, Arthur forces himself out of the house to visit the shrines and make his offerings, trying to carry no hope with him.

And then I have two ideas for how this would go:

-Arthur pays his respects to the shines, returns home, just like in the myth (although it was the feast of Aphrodite), and there's Alfred all nice and alive and human and then Arthur spends about as much time fucking him as he did carving him

OR

-at one of the shrines, Arthur meets a faerie who looks just like his statue: Alfred, who saw the original bargain and didn't think it was fair and has loved Arthur all that time and this is how he could get Arthur to love him too and yes it's very manipulative but that's how faeries are and then Arthur spends about as much time fucking Alfred as he did carving the statue.

Anyway. some people who have possibly been following me since before I was alifeasvivid will know that I am fucking obsessed with the myth of Pygmalion so >.>

#ukus #fic ideas #I'd be curious to know which ending you guys would be more interested in

[densi-mber]

He Plays the Violin

If someone had told 20 year old Marty Deeks that one day he would be sitting on the couch with his girlfriend, watching a rebroadcast of a symphony, he would have scoffed. Yet here he sat, happily doing just that. It had taken a little coaxing to convince Kensi, but now she seemed enthralled by the performance.

During a particularly lively version of Rhapsody in Blue, Kensi nudged his shoulder with her elbow. “You know, something you’ve never shown me—?”

“Can’t be much at this point,” Deeks interrupted, speaking over the music. “I’m pretty sure I’ve shown you everything I’ve got.” He winked at Kensi, just in case she didn’t get the innuendo.

“Yes, it’s very impressive,” Kensi said, pausing to give him a once over. “That’s not what I’m talking about though. It’s something more skill-based.”

“Oh, I’ve got all kinds of skills.” Deeks grinned at Kensi’s groan.

“Deeks, stop it.”

Shifting to face her, he adopted a serious expression. “Sorry, go on.”

Inhaling shallowing, Kensi pressed her palms together. He couldn’t imagine what was about to say.

“Remember when you mentioned taking violin lessons?” she asked.

“Yeeees. Why?”

“Well, this concert reminded me that you’ve never played for me.”

“Kensi—”

“Baby, please?”

“I’m not that good,” Deeks protested, even as Kensi looked at him pleadingly. “I haven’t had a lesson in years.”

“But you’ve played since then, right?”

“Yeah,” he admitted reluctantly. Smoothing her hand up through his hair, Kensi cupped one of his cheeks.

“Hey, I won’t push it anymore if you really don’t want to, but I would really love to hear you play,” she said, which was remarkably convincing.

“Fine.” Sighing, Deeks pushed himself off the couch, heading for his bedroom. He felt Kensi’s eyes on him the entire way.

Even though he didn’t play regularly, he still kept his violin in good condition and stored it along with some other fragile items in his closet. When he came out a few minutes later with the violin tucked under his arm and the bow in his other hand, Kensi sat up, clapping her hands together in delight.

Deeks gave her a wry look, tucking a leg under him as he sat down. He plucked a couple strings, lowering his head in concentration. He spent a several minutes tuning the strings, adjusting the little knobs on either side. When he was reasonably satisfied with the sound, he turned to face Kensi again, and found her watching him.

“To reiterate, it’s been a few years since I even touched this, so listen at your own risk,” he warned Kensi one final time, tucking the violin under his chin, and bringing the bow up.

He chose a piece he’d taught himself in high school. The first few drags of the bow across the strings were a little rough, but he quickly fell into the rhythm, relaxing as motor memory took over. He closed his eyes, leaning into the emotion of the music, letting certain notes swell while other were softer and more subtle.

He played the final note, drawing the bow back slowly to end, and opened his eyes again. Kensi stared back at him, her lips slightly parted, her expression stunned.

“Sorry, guess I got a little caught up in the music,” he said, feeling oddly embarrassed. “My teacher always complained about that. Didn’t remember the audience.”

“No, Deeks, that was—that was beautiful,” Kensi quickly assured him. “I’ve never heard that song before.”

“It’s called “Ashokan Farewell”.

“It’s beautiful.” She leaned forward suddenly, cupping his face as she kissed him fervently. Deeks moved the violin out of crushing range. When Kensi pulled back, there was a fiery gleam in her eyes. “That was one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen,” she told him, fingers slowly, but sure,y moving down his chest.

“Yeah, Mrs. Kayler definitely never said that,” he joked, a little breathless with Kensi’s unexpected response.

Sliding off the couch, Kensi took his hand, tugging him with her. Deeks started to set the violin to the side, but she shook her head.

“No, bring it with,” she said, guiding him back towards his bedroom.

***

A/N: “Ashokan Farewell” is a piece written by Jay Ungar and featured in several of Ken Burns’ documentaries.

Title taken from the song of the same name from the musical “1776”.

#densimber 7.0 #densimber 2023 #densimber day 12 #ncis la fanfiction #ncis la #densi #fluff #Deeks does sexy things #like playing the violin #and Kensi likes it #marty deeks #densimber #by ejzah

[thedo0zyslider]

Knightly Training - 6K Words

Fwhip, a knight of the kingdom, is assigned to train a new recruit. it leads to a lot more things than either of them expect, really.

A03

Fwhip, a fairly young man with ginger hair and a tall frame, as well as dragon wings plastered to his back, has been a part of the royal knights for almost five years now. He joined when he was barely eighteen, and currently had no intention of leaving. He quite liked his job, and was always trying to climb the ranks in any way he could. Achieve more things, increase his wealth. He was ambitious like that, people would often say. Whether that was to his own good or detriment really depended on the situation. 

Eventually though, the ambition would pay off. Just like the ginger assumed it was always going to. But, it didn’t pay off in the way he, or anyone else, expected. No, it did quite the opposite in fact. But the ginger would be the last person to complain about the outcomes.

One day, Fwhip is requested by the head of the knights to do a new job. They say he is picked because he is very skilled, which the ginger knows to be true, and because he can work well with others. Despite his quietness and sometimes rude demeanor he could boast. He is asked to train their newest recruit, a man with barely any skill under his belt. And Fwhip accepts the offer, knowing he would be a fool not to. Doing it instantly elevates him to a higher standing than he is currently, so it seemed like a no brainer to say yes.

Little does he know, when he walks down to meet the knights newest member, is that that day will be life changing. For him and the man he meets near the castle gardens, a man dressed in well made clothing and with a pose that suggests his near anxious demeanor being in such a new and formal environment. 

The new recruit walks in and he looks…. promising . A little scrawny, maybe from a family a little poorer than Fwhip’s own, but there is potential behind his messy blonde hair and wide brown eyes. He’s got a good frame, and some muscles already. Fwhip can work with that just fine, even though the avian wings he has might get in the way. But the ginger himself is a dragon, and has experience dealing with that sort of stuff.

The man introduces himself as Jimmy, from another family of decently high standing, much like the gingers own, and then the two of them get to working together. After the newcomer gets a quick tour, of course. Wouldn't want him getting lost trying to find his new bedroom in the estates, after all.

The first lesson, which happens later that same day, goes better than expected. Fwhip was anticipating that he’d have to repeat even the most basic of moves over and over again to his new winged friend, but Jimmy picked up on things fairly quickly. Despite his decently frequent amount of ditzy moments, some of which were probably played up for laughs, there was a smart brain under all those pretty looks.

Fwhip smiles as Jimmy gets yet another technique down pretty good on his first few tries, and knows this job is gonna be a lot more fun than he first thought. The dragon quite missed having a sparring partner, he had to admit. So maybe this wouldn’t be too bad after all.

Maybe his life would finally be going somewhere good.

______________________________________

Over the next few months of training, Fwhip and Jimmy become closer. The ginger didn’t know what to expect of their relationship, since this is his first time as a trainer. But he was not all that against the friendship that was starting to blossom during their sessions. It’s nice, finally having a friend around his own age in the knights. One who was willing to talk about something other than business and alcohol or bitching about their wives. It was certainly better than the consistent loneliness Fwhip had settled with before.

The two men started to learn more about each other too, and it turns out they have a lot in common. For one, they both had sisters. Jimmy’s sister, Lizzie, was the older one, while Gem was the younger of her and Fwhip. Sisters who were not very lady like as well, as people liked to point out frequently.

They learn that both of them are unmarried as well, and should probably be searching for a wife. Though if he’s honest, Fwhip isn’t very interested in finding a wife. Not in that way, no, no, no. The ginger absolutely liked the opposite sex. He would just rather find a good woman he liked rather than buy the next young and pretty thing; like a good portion of men seemed to do. Also Gem would have her gripes if he did the latter, and her gripes were always really annoying. Jimmy, on the other hand, is a little younger than him, meaning the pressure for him to wed is slightly less. The avian seems more concerned about his knighthood than a woman right now, something Fwhip applauds. That’s a good quality to have indeed. 

They also learn that each of them had lost their parents early, one of the seemingly many similarities between them. Each man says they are sorry for the others loss, the quietly and somberly move on from the painful topic. It seems like the best they can do, for Fwhip is sure talking about it is just as painful for Jimmy as it is for him.

His friendship with Jimmy feels a lot….deeper than his friendship with other people. A lot more personal. Like he could tell the blonde anything at all, and he would listen without complaint. Likewise, Fwhip feels like he could listen to Jimmy ramble for hours upon hours and never once get bored of it. His voice was just so nice and….enchanting, if he dared to say it.

They two or them often walk back from their training session together, chatting up a storm until they had to separate, or one of them was needed elsewhere. Today is going to be no different, another one of their personal conversations having started at the end of the training session. Those were always the ones they spent the longest on, which made the walks back to their respective chambers longer. Especially because their rooms were not anywhere near each other in the estate.

“So,” Fwhip asks, the two of them walking back to their chambers for the night a little earlier than normal, shoulders almost bumping as they do so. But not quite brushing yet. “Why’d you want to be a knight?”

Jimmy hummed thoughtfully, as if he had to consider his words before answering. “Well, my sister always protected me. Did things women aren’t supposed to do so she could do it. I wanna repay her for all that, and do the protecting this time.”

“Doesn’t she have a husband for that?” Fwhip asks, not meaning to sound condescending when he does. He is just asking out of curiosity, nothing more and nothing less. He thinks Jimmy’s sister is a lot like Gem, actually, in some ways at least. Which is a pretty admirable quality, if you asked him specifically. Other men probably wouldn’t think so.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t mind. He actually wanted me to be a knight.” Jimmy says with a shrug. If his family encouraged the avian’s choices to be a protector, then that was good. He was glad his friend had such a supportive family, in contrast to his own….less encouraging ones.

The blonde fixed his wide, curious eyes on his companion when his story was over. He tried not to feel too awkward and observed under it. “So, why’d you join?”

“Well, I really wanted to invent things, but that didn’t work out.” Fwhip responded, a sad and almost wistful smile appearing on his face. “Now I’m just trying to help my sister become a wizard any way I can.” He feels like he needs to do that last bit, mainly because Gem wants to be a wizard so badly. And she’s smart enough for it too, and would be damn good at it. But their uncle, the one who had gained custody over them, would not let her. And she could not go against the man of the house. So Fwhip was doing all he could with the power being a knight gave him and his family members, all to help his sister's dream become real.

“Do you still invent?” Jimmy asks, his interest clearly piqued by that little detail.

Fwhip felt a small smile stretching across his face, sensing that they had moved even closer as they talked; their shoulders now truly brushing. “On occasion, yes.”

“I’d like to see one, one day.” The avian says sincerely. It takes Fwhip off guard a little, that someone actually wants to see his inventions. No one, other than Gem when she had the time, ever really seemed to care about his craft. Not like he did, anyways, or at all.

“Well, okay then. Just be prepared to wait a while.” The dragon smiled, hoping the amount of joy he felt was reflected in his gaze. “I don't get much time to myself you know.”

“I know!” The blonde hums, still fixing him with a smile that never seems to disappear and wide brown eyes. Ones almost like a baby birds or cows. Fwhip felt bad, that he couldn’t show Jimmy something he so clearly wanted to see. But that smile and those eyes made him feel like everything would be okay, and that he could take all the time in the world, and the blonde would still be waiting for him.

He wished Jimmy would look at him like that more often…

______________________________________

Not even a week later, Fwhip has a small little thing to show his trainee. Maybe the others' interest in his hobby had been his one motivator. Maybe he really, really wanted to impress the blonde. Whatever the reason, his first project in a while was done, and he had someone to show it off too.

It’s pretty late in the day when he musters up the courage to go and tell Jimmy. So the ginger finds himself knocking on the avian’s door, not sure if he’s even in there. For all he knows, his fellow knight could be Lord knows where in town right now, doing who knows what. Maybe he’s not even in his room, maybe Fwhip just knocked on an empty door and looks stupid-

To his mild surprise, Jimmy does in fact open the door. The avian looks understandably surprised to see him, but happy at the same time. “Oh, hi Fwhip!” He says, and the dragon thinks that smile could light up the whole world if it tried. “Do you need something?”

“Yes, actually, I have something to show you!” He exclaims, hoping he doesn;t sound as anxious as he feels, that his heart isn’t beating loud enough to be heard by the other. “I um, left it in my room though.”

Jimmy’s smile doesn’t waver, even as he steps out into the hallway, and shuts the bedroom door behind them. Fwhip tries to ignore how close they’re standing now, and any urge to do anything. “That's fine! I don’t mind walking over.” “Good, good. C’mon then.” The ginger mumbles, and begins to lead Jimmy towards his bedroom. It’s a decently long walk, but the avian relatively knows the way. He didn’t really need to be led there, but the avian lets himself be led anyway. He seems happy to just be walking next to his friend…..happy to spend time with him. And Fwhip is happy to be around him too….way happier than he ever expected to be.

The comfortable silence between them is very loud, even with the dragon’s near constant overthinking of the situation. Of how he was leading the guy back to his bedroom to see something, and whatever implications that may have. He certainly could have phrased their initial conversation a lot better, that’s for sure, even if Jimmy wasn’t thinking of anything like that at all.

Safe to say, the dragon is very glad when he finally reaches his own bedroom door, and is able to lead his fellow knight inside. Jimmy follows him quietly, and takes a quick scan of the dark and rather brody bedroom before saying anything.

“Your room is really nice.” He compliments, looking at the small sword and dagger collection hanging on the dragon’s wall. A collection he hopes to expand very soon. 

“Thanks.” Fwhip mumbles, feeling himself smile like an idiot at such a small thing. He found he did that a lot around Jimmy, actually, smile at all the small and untimely meaningless things he did; like the ginger was starstruck or something stupid like that. 

“...What did you want me to see?” Jimmy hums, glancing around the room curiously, as if he could find it by doing just that. As if a gift would be left out in the open like that. The silly birdie.

“I, um, I made an invention to show you, actually.” Fwhip says, moving over to the nightstand beside his bed. He pulls the small contraption he’s made out from the drawer, it’s temporary hiding place since the device had been done. He places it down, and then blocks the nightstand with his body. So there can be a grand reveal, of course. All his inventions deserve one, no matter how big or how small they may be, or whatever purpose they serve. They are made by him , after all.

“Really!?” Jimmy gasps, sounding much more excited than he had been before. Fwhip thinks all of this is worth it so far, just because he got to see the blonde’s eyes light up and sparkle all pretty like.

“Yep! Made it just for you, actually.” Fwhip said, feeling a light flush start to creep up his face. For whatever reason. After a small pause, he added onto the statement. “Plus it felt good to use my hands again.”

“Oh!” Jimmy exclaimed, sounding surprised yet also touched. Like no one’s ever done something like this for him, like this is a special occurrence. Fwhip briefly wonders if he should be making even more trinkets after this. “That’s really sweet!”

“Don’t mention it.” He muttered, the tips of his ears now dusted in pink. Which is strange, the knight is usually not an easy man to fluster. “Erm, here it is.” He moves away from the nightstand, so Jimmy can see his gift. He’s…still nervous if the other will like it or not, and quickly prepares himself for the incoming possible rejection.

Jimmy looks at the thing, a small creation that is only able to spin and move, his eyes wide. “Fwhip this is really impressive!” He squeaks, bending down slightly so he can properly test the thing. The avian’s eyes are full of wonder as he watches it spin, and walk a few inches across the wooden table. Fwhip thinks that he’s never looked cuter than he does right now.

“It’s just a small little thing-” He mumbles, not really seeing any need for such fanfare. He would have made something much better, if he had access to more materials, and the dragon knows it. His friend however, apparently thinks otherwise.

“It’s still really good!” Jimmy insists, sounds so…so happy as he looks at the thing. So happy and genuine, like this is the best thing he’s ever been gifted, and will ever be. Like that dumb little invention means the whole world to him. “I love it, thank you “ His last words are a lot softer, warmer, and the ginger thinks he melts a bit upon hearing them. 

“Your welcome..” Fwhip mumbles, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. He watches Jimmy mess with the creation made just for him, and knows that all this was worth it. All the anxiety and awkwardness is worth it if he gets to see this man happy.

______________________________________

Not even a week later, the two of them have another big moment. Like, really big, bigger than even the little invention stunt. The biggest and most impactful one to happen between them ever in their lives, probably.

It happens at one of their next sparring and training sessions, right at the start of it. They don’t even train much that day, actually, because what happens sends both men into wildly different mindsets. And neither of them are the fighting kind.

They arrive at the training room together, then separate a little so they can slip the armor sets they have on. Like they do every time, during every teaching session. The training armor isn’t quite as heavy as the real stuff used in battle, so Fwhip finishes early, just like he does every time. The dragon waits for Jimmy to emerge, leaning his sword against the nearest wall as he does so, and is met with a familiar sight when his friend finally emerges back out into the main practice area.

The avian has his armor on a little incorrectly, probably having struggled putting it on around his wings again. It was pretty hard to get used to that, Fwhip knows that fact from personal experience. Even today he still has moments where he fails to do it properly, even if they are rather rare.

“Here,” Fwhip says kindly, taking a few steps closer. “Lemme fix your armor.” 

“Okay.” Jimmy responds, letting the other knights approach him. Fwhip feels suddenly….anxious, maybe a little awkward as he reaches the avian, and goes to fix his armor. He thinks it's the thought of him and Jimmy touching that seems to, dare the ginger say, fluster him so much. Even though they’ve done this before, today is somehow different. Regardless, Fwhip does what he said he would, and adjusts his friend's armor.

He thinks the avian’s breath hitches when he adjusts the breastplate around his wings, and wonders if they both feel the same about this. He puts the pauldrons in their proper places as well, and tries not to think about the eyes that are curiously watching him. Fwhip feels himself flush, and doesn’t meet Jimmy’s gaze when he goes to fix the crooked helmet.

“Let’s get started.” He says, moving away. The dragon walks back across the room, going to grab his sword for where he left it. It’s better to start this training now, in his opinion, before the day gets even more awkward. There’s a small mumble of agreement, and when he turns back around the blonde seems to be acting normal. He already has his sword ready, too.

“En garde!” Jimmy says, pointing the sword out towards him and his voice echoing across the room slightly.. There’s a stupid little smile on his face, one that Fwhip finds secret endearing. Only secretly though.

“That's for fencing, not knights.” The ginger snorts in amusement, lifting his own sword up in response. He feels like this session will be an especially good one today.

“Close enough innit?” Jimmy shrugs, already watching the other man's every movement. Just like he had been instructed to.

Fwhip snorts again, charging forward to make the first move of their sparring session. “I guess. Except in fencing you're not supposed to impale someone.”

“Like I said, close enough!” Jimmy yelled back, dodging his blow with ease. Because that was an easy move to dodge on purpose. Fwhip wasn’t one to waste all his good moves early on, after all. He put on a show when he fought, especially in these training sessions. 

Especially for Jimmy.

The spar goes a lot like they normally do. The two men are evenly matched, while the ginger slips in lessons and advice between banter and kicking his trainee’s ass. Though today something in the air feels different, and Fwhip can not pinpoint why. Maybe it is from their strange tensions from earlier, maybe it is from something else. Regardless, the dragon doesn’t have time to focus on that. Jimmy had just gotten a great move in, actually managing to strike at his armor and make the metal clash. He took a step back in momentary surprise at that, a pleased grin starting to stretch across his features.

“You’re getting good at this!” Fwhip says, feeling a bead of sweat drip down his brow. His student has shown a lot of improvement in the four months they'd been working together. He's pretty impressed by it, and incredibly proud. 

Jimmy grins, clearly pleased by the praise, and takes another stab at him. “Good enough to beat you?”

The ginger seems to consider it for a moment, blocking the attack again. “Hm, fat chance!” He exclaims, and manages to successfully unbalance his opponent. It’s the first time he’s been able to do so in a while, and triumph floods him as Jimmy stumbles.

But the avian is skilled now, and knows not to let an enemy get him helpless on the ground, especially if he lands painfully on his wings. Something Fwhip had taught him early on. So instead of just falling, he kicks his leg out. The metal of their armor collides with clashing sound, and Fwhip makes a sound of surprise as he too is unbalanced and sent tumbling downwards with his trainee.

He lands with an oof , catching himself on his hands. Jimmy makes sure the fall is not too hard on his back, just like he had been taught, and hits the ground under the ginger with a similar grunting sound. Fwhip blinks down, flustered as he realizes what pose they have ended up in. Jimmy is pinned under him, their bodies pressing together in multiple points, and their faces closer than they have ever been. It’s quite the breathtaking situation, if he has to be honest.

Lovely brown eyes stare back up at him, and the dragon thinks he’s going to die .

“Hey.” Fwhip mutters, very aware of the position they’re now in. And how horrible it would be if someone walked in. Two men are not supposed to be.… posed like this. Especially not ones of their status.

“Hey..” Jimmy whispers back, his eyes darting around the ginger's face wildly, like he doesn’t know where to rest them. “Pretty close there aren’t you?”

“Heh, yeah…” The dragon mutters, feeling like something is pulling him downwards. Like he wants to connect the admittedly small gap between them. The rest of him screams not to, that the action is wrong, that he has been told not to. That it is sinful.

“Is it wrong for me..” Jimmy mutters softly, the same internal turmoil clearly flashing across his face. Fwhip is glad they're on the same page about that, at least. “...To want to do something more right now?”

“I’m not sure…”  He says, seeing how they are now just inches apart. The part of him that says not to is very loud, but the desire and want is louder. It’s stronger and telling him to get it over with already. Yet he is still hesitant. “I think I want it too.”

Thankfully, Jimmy makes the decision for him. “Say no and I’ll stop.” He mutters, and finally brings their lips together. The feeling is magical, like nothing he’s ever experienced. The voices in Fwhip’s head finally quiet, and all he can focus on after a second is the way Jimmy lips moves against his, and the way an armored hand holds his cheeks as gently as possible and keeps him there.

There is no saying no, there is no stopping. Even when the two men finally pull away, Fwhip just wants more. He wants to give into his desires oh so badly. Thankfully, the same look is reflected in the avian’s eyes, and it’s not long before he’s fully pressing the birdie to the ground hungrily. Though he still waits for his partner to initiate their next series of kisses.

Jimmy leans up to kiss him again, more passionate this time. Fwhip keens into it, letting himself get lost in the feeling and the taste of it all for just a few moments. Lord he had wanted this so bad, and for so many months too. Their lips connect again and again and again, until both of the knights are panting and breathless and getting far too heated for the near full sets of armor they are both wearing.

They pull away after what feels like an eternity, and go to slip their armor off. Fwhip finds his eyes trained on Jimmy the whole time, unable to look away. He knows he’s not quite satfisted that urge in him yet, to kiss his friend stupid. So when they are back in their normal clothes, he is quick to press Jimmy into the seat in the changing room, and resume their earlier activities.

Fwhip quietly connects their lips again, shifting so he is in Jimmy’s lap. The avian lets him, doing so almost happily. The ginger really hopes the door is locked behind them. Because he doesn’t want to just feel the kiss this time, he wants to feel everything. The flush of their bodies against each other, the warmth his friends always emits, the way Jimmy’s hands feel when they hold his cheeks and the back of his neck, the way wings envelop him softly. Everything .

They break apart and then connect again, leaving no space between them. While Fwhip focuses on the feeling of the kiss, and the joy he gets from it; Jimmy focuses on advancing this. Focuses on getting handsy. Slim fingers ghost over the velvet of his wings, and Fwhip gasps into his friend's mouth. So Jimmy keeps doing that, keeps massaging his wings, until the other knight is basically putty in his hands.

They pull away after what feels like an eternity, both men panting heavily. Before Fwhip is able to leave the avians lap, a small hickey is quickly sucked into the side of his neck. Right where all his clothes will cover it, thankfully. He shivers at the feeling of it, and misses Jimmy’s lips when they leave his skin for the final time that day.

The walk back to their chambers is the closest they’ve ever had. Fwhip is glad it's dark out already, and no one is around, because their hands are intertwined and they almost kiss about five different times. Jimmy bids him a sickly sweet goodbye when they get to his door, and the ginger cannot help but swoon over it.

Back in his own quarters, Fwhip finds himself pacing. 

What they had just done today was dangerous, for both of them. He’d never seen anyone punished for this type of behavior himself, but he knew what the punishments could be. It was anything from being disgraced to burning, depending on what act you partook in. Fwhip’s pretty sure what they had just done wouldn’t get them the worst punishment, which was for sodomy, but it wouldn;t get them the easiest one either. If they didn’t just charge them with sodomy anyways. And their money couldn’t buy them out of it either, if anyone ever knew.

And no one will ever, ever no. For his sake, but mainly for Jimmy’s. He’ll say he forced the avian into it, if anyone ever asks. He will gladly burn at the stake for the sake of his friend.

Maybe being so ready to die for Jimmy makes them more than just friends….maybe it’s nothing, maybe no one will ever find out. Fwhip sighs, and assumes he’ll just have to find out where this goes.

______________________________________

Fwhip does not want to attend church the following Sunday after the kiss. But he has to, for it’s illegal to skip the service. And he likes having a good name amongst his peers and fellow townsfolk. And the lot that choose to not attend church do not have a very good reputation, not in the slightest.

The statue of their god, Aeor, looks down at him as he walks past it. He feels like scorn and disappointment is shining in those stone eyes. Fwhip talks to his elven friend, one of the custodians and son of the pastor, and feels like he is not worthy to do so. He wonders what his blue-haired friend would say if he knew what the dragon had done just days before.

He attends the service and feels like an imposter. Like he is not supposed to be in that building. He feels his sins crawling up his spine, weighing him down so much that he might as well sink through the floor. Or, well, things he was taught were sins.

Jimmy made him nothing but happy so far, and that couldn’t be a sin. Aeor would never punish someone for happiness! 

Would he…?

Instead of pondering that thought, Fwhip tries to focus on what the preacher is saying. When that doesn’t work, he starts to sneakily glance around the room. He needs something else to focus on, something that isn’t himself and his bone crushing guilt that never seems to waver, no matter how he tries to rationalize it.

And well, his eyes land on Jimmy, sitting with his family across the building and Fwhip can’t help but admire him. And how pretty he looks; how the sunlight falls on his face through the stained glass windows and makes him look almost ethereal. Like he was sent from Heaven himself. Honestly, the avian might as well be, with just… everything about him and how he is.

They have been distant for the past few days, even at the makeup training session the day after they kissed. It seems neither men knew how to breach the topic, or be close like they used to be once more. If the ginger had been left desperately longing for the touch of another man again, well that was between him and Aeor.

Yet Jimmy looks over, able to feel his staring, and it is that moment when they become close again. The avian meets his eyes with a small, hopefully smile, and the dragon just knows he can’t let this one get away from him. Certainly not over a kiss, either.

After the church service, Fwhip finds himself in Jimmy’s room for the first time. He knows how he got there, but everything feels like a blur. All he remembers is walking back home with the avian, and as soon as they were alone, Jimmy had grabbed his hand and hidden them away where no one else could see.

When their lips connect once again, it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels so, so right. Maybe a little distasteful, for doing something like this on the sabbath day, but still so right. So much so that they kiss again and again and again, and do so all night long for all Fwhip knows.

When the two knights wake up next to each other the next morning, they both silently agree not to talk about it. The ginger just slinks back into his own chambers, guilt and joy both running through him rather violently, and they don’t bring it up for a good while after that.

He doesn’t think either of them know how to.

______________________________________

They finally have a conversation about it a few weeks later, after yet another training session, when they are both tired from a long day's work. Jimmy is getting close to the end of his lessons, and Fwhip wonders what will happen when that day comes; and if they will ever see each other afterwards. He wonders what he’ll do with himself if it comes to that. (Probably nothing good, if the ginger is being honest.)

The two of them are in Jimmy’s chambers today, lounging on the bed together. The blonde lays next to him, a hand resting on Fwhip’s thigh as he reads. The ginger is doing his own thing next to him. Well, he’s trying too. He hadn’t been in the right headspace to tinker like he wanted too, so Fwhip had been able to do nothing but let his mind wander. And the knight had  a lot of troubling thoughts he was trying to avoid pondering on.

There’s a lot of silence and unanswered questions between them. Things they want to say, but neither will. The dragon feels like he’s gonna suffocate in the silence if he sits in it for any longer.

“You know we shouldn’t be doing this , right?” Fwhip muttered, glancing down at the hand idly resting on his thigh. Jimmy turned, so they were no longer laying so close. Instead he sits up, so the two of them are face to face once more. For once, a smile is not on his friend’s face, and it bothers him like nothing else.

“I know.” The avian said carefully, now looking him in the eyes, as if he were staring directly into Fwhip’s soul. It was almost like he was scared of where this was going. “I know they say it is a sin.”

“Then why-” Fwhip starts, but whatever he is about to say is lost to time as Jimmy quickly cuts him off. It’s probably a good thing he did, the ginger was probably just going to hurt him with whatever statement he wanted to make. Whatever dumb question he wanted to ask.

“Because it doesn’t feel sinful to me, it feels right.” The avian says, softly cupping the other's face in his hands. Like he was the most precious thing in the world. “And because I love you.”

Fwhip feels himself start to choke. He feels like he’s being broken into a million pieces, all with three little words. “Jimmy…”

“I don’t care what they say, because I love you. I want to be with you.” Jimmy says, sounding so sure of himself. The look he fixes the ginger with next is sweet, enough so to melt even the toughest of hearts. “Do you….want that?”

 “Yes, I want that.” Fwhip nods, finding he had to think for a minute, to consider everything and all the consequences of this. Even though the answer should’ve been the most obvious thing in the whole wide world. “I want you.”

“Then you can have me.” Jimmy mumbles, and moves their faces closer. Fwhip wants to, but he can’t kiss him, not yet anyways. He needs to ask something first.

“This’ll have to be….secretive, you know that, right?” He mumbles, failing to hold back a smile when their noses bump, and just Jimmy in general, honestly. The avian is far too cute for his own good, especially when he’s being all nice and sweet like this.

“It’s like I said, I don’t care.” Jimmy repeated, moving so he could run a few fingers through his friend’s rather messed up hair. The dragon felt himself lean into the touch without a second thought. “If I can be with you I don’t care.”

That is enough for him, and Fwhip feels like he can close the gap between them now. Jimmy returns the kiss with a pleased sigh, like he’s been wanting this for weeks now. Realistically, he probably has. Though this kiss tastes sweeter than all the ones they’ve had before, and Fwhip finds himself relishing in it more than ever.

“I love you, too.” He mutters against the other’s lips. Jimmy smiles, mutters something about them being partners now, and kisses him sweetly again. Fwhip kisses him back, and knows that he would rather be in no other place than this right now. 

______________________________________

The years go on, slowly but surely. Everything around them changes, but Fwhip and Jimmy do not. They work closely together, even after Jimmy’s training is over. They keep meeting in secret, having late night talks, and seeing each other in ways most people would be appalled by. Not that Fwhip cares much, as long as he can keep his little birdie close to him, he will be okay.

Eventually, they are forced to marry. It keeps the rumors at bay, and keeps them in better standing with people. Not that the women they marry are interested in anything else, the two only doing so to save themselves from social disgrace and please their fathers. Jimmy is married to a sweet fae girl with brunette hair, and a fondness for pink and flowers. She seems more interested in another man with an affinity for thievery, plus a short and sweet gnome woman she often had tea with. Not that Jimmy minded much. The two of them were more friends than a couple, which worked perfectly well and fine. 

Fwhip was wed to a blonde maiden with his shared love for inventing, and who was as quiet and aloof as he was sometimes. They bonded over their shared love of creation, and how their passions had been shoved to the side seemingly forever. And that was that. She didn’t seem very interested in the romance department period, no matter what gender would approach her with a cheeky flirt. Each couple lived in relative peace, the only criticism being the lack of children, something that gradually slowed as they all aged.

Jimmy and Fwhip remained close, very close through the years. And since their wives and them preferred to be separate rather than together, it gave the little couple a lot of time to waste in each other's company. They spent more nights in each other's beds than their own, cuddles exchanged and lips pressed together softly, a secret for them only to keep. Each knight wouldn’t have it any other way.

The two of them will go down in history as some of the best, most skilled knights the kingdom has ever hosted. A mentor and his trainee, who he did a splendid job with. Some splendid he went on to be the top recruitment and training officer, and impressed every other night that had once been socially above him. The best of friends, Fwhip and Jimmy were called, nothing less and certainly nothing more. No matter what anyone at the time will think otherwise. 

And as the scholars write that, they will lie away from anyone the church binds them to, content as they share easy kisses over drinks and loving touches when they wake next to each other, and when they share the intensity and excitement of all those knightly duties. 

Something for only them, to share, and only them to hold, history be damned. A love that will be carved into nothing but the gifts and looks they exchange, for no one else's eye but their own. A love that history will love to hate, but will taste sweeter than anything else in the world.

Something precious only for them to know, as it was always meant to be.

#ron.fic #ron.writing #jimmy solidarity #fwhip #fwhimmy #empires smp #empiresshipping

[sucrows]

GATEKEEPER + FIRST TIME

[summary goes here if i feel like it]

CONTAINS: GN Reader, sub gatekeeper, top gatekeeper, bottom reader

WORD COUNT: 551

(NSFW UNDER CUT)

you've always thought gatekeeper was a hottie. from the moment you laid eyes on him, you knew you had to convince him to stop gatekeeping that dick and let you at it.

it may not be easy, but you had just the plan to seduce him.

*****

"hey gatekeeper how big is that dick"

"small now leave me alone."

*****

maybe your plan wasn't as smooth as you thought it was, it seems you haven't put enough points into your rizz stat yet to get him... maybe if you work on it, you can become the rizzlord you were always meant to be

you do multiple fetch quests for people aronud you and pay some trainers to increase your rizz stat (of course, proceeding to immediatley pick pocket the gold you spent back because you'r a cheapskate.) and slowly but surely, you cheese the system until you have enough to put some skill points into the "fucking old men category". gatekeeper isn't even old but he's such a bitch about everything tgat he might as well be

back on your mission, you give it another shot.

*****

You find gatekeeper walking down a hall, arms full of papers. You know exactly how to get him.

You hide behind a corner and wait for him to come by to walk out. You bump into him and papers go flying everywhere! it's a mess! oh no! Gatekeeper is pissed!

"you just scattered all my papers!"

"and i'll scatter all of your clothes next" you wink

he gasps like a conservative grandmother being told her grandchild doesn't like her casserole. It's a good sign you think. You press harder.

"you wanna fuck me soooooo bad come on you know you wanna."

he stares at you, wide eyes and blushing like mad.

"😳!"

"how the fuck did you say that out loud."

he doesn't answer, instead grabbing you and dragging you into a conveniently nearby conveniently open and conveneiontely empty storage closet with a conveniently locking from the inside door. He gives you a look

yuo have him exaclty where you want him. you give him a stern look and he immediately drops his pant to reveal his perfectly average erection. you follow suit and pull up the gender neutral skirt i just decided you're wearing for convenient plot reasons to expose your hole to him

"fuck me"

"sir yes sir 😳"

"how the hell..."

you never would have guessed gatekeeper to be so submissive and breedable like that one song by smosh (yes like from youtube look it up), but you're not about to complain when your finally getting what you've wanted for so long.

he inserts his penis into you, missing all the right spots.

"am i doing it right 🥺?"

you look at him in confusion

"no wait really how do you keep doing that"

he takes your lack of complaints as permission to start going at it. plap plap plap goes the penis. wow what hot passionate sex you have.

god i can't fucking finsht ehis this is what you get im writing this at ass early in the morning i can't do it anymore

you bang. he somehow gets pregnant. you leave the country and leave him a single father of triplets who all look exactly like him. mitosis. the end.

[xxlady-lunaxx]

Orange Spider lily | {KokuZan}

Theme: Angst

Kokushibo and Muzan were secretly dating. Well, 'secretly' is a term that they use but isn't actually true. It would be secret if it weren't for their horrible skills of secrecy. Unfortunately keeping their relationship within the two of them was out of their hands, though they had somehow hidden their existence from most humans for centuries. Which made it so stupid. But.. neither of the two cared, at this point, because it's not like it would be harmful for anyone to know.

Muzan often visited Kokushibo, because of their relationship or so he said. Today was different though. Today he'd discovered something. And so, this time when he went running to Kokushibo, he was smiling. Something quite curious to the Uppermoon, given that he'd never seen a smile quite that big on his Master's face.

"Kokushibo! Look, look I found something," Muzan said, almost like a small child finding a particularily pretty rock. 

"What is it?" Kokushibo inquired.

"This." Muzan thrust out a bag that held two beautiful flowers. They looked quite like spider lilies, only they were orange.

"Orange spider lilies?" Kokushibo asked, confused. "Did the color seep out from the sun?"

"No, no, they've been like this for a while now! I was looking through some red spider lilies and I found these!! It might be the key to the blue ones! I'm going to use some for experimenting. I'll try it and see if it'll make me be able to go in the sun. I'll use it first though. If it works you can use the other spider lily for yourself," Muzan explained, clearly having thought this out before.

"Oh? How interesting," Kokushibo agreed, inspecting the flowers closely.

Muzan nodded and took them back carefully. "I'm going to try to make something that I can easily drink, alright?"

"Okay, I'll wait here." Kokushibo watched as Muzan excitedly went to his working desk where he instantly pulled out several drawers filled with liquids of all variations.

Over the next few weeks, Muzan experimented with the flower and the different assortments of htings he'd made over the centuries. The whole time, Kokushibo stood by, retrieving what Muzan needed and always there for whatever happened. Eventually, Muzan decided he would try his concoction, saying if it didn't work that would be alright since he was a demon, and if it did, well, he had it all memorized and he would make it again for Kokushibo.

So, that day, Muzan downed half the flask and then waited. He felt nothing so he told Kokushibo to cut off his arm and put it somewhere where sunlight would shine soon. The two demons watched the hand from the safety of inside while it sat there, Muzan's arm had long since regenerated. Then the sun came by and burned it to crisp. Muzan sighed. "Maybe it just needs some time?" he suggested. Kokushibo agreed.

The two went back to Muzan's work room and talked. After a while, Muzan fell asleep and Kokushibo put him in a comfortable place, deciding it had just been from the amount of work his Master had been doing recently.

The next day, Muzan awoke with a headache. He complained that he felt dizzy and was a little wobbly standing up. But that would wear off eventually. The same as the day before, they cut off Muzan's hand and put it in the sun, watching it burn, yet again. 

"How long would it take to set in?" Kokushibo asked, confused.

"If this continues through the week, maybe I should just try again," Muzan grumbled. "I still have one and a half orange spider lily flowers left."

"Won't they rot?" the Uppermoon pointed out.

"No, I froze them so they'll be contained fresh until I need them." Muzan placed his hand on his hips in an almost proud manner. "I've thought of everything!"

Kokushibo laughed and nodded. "Yes, yes you have."

The day seemed to pass by rather slowly for Muzan for he was very tired. Eventually he went to sleep again, hoping he would feel perfectly fine when he woke up. Unfortunately for him, when he woke up he felt considerably worse, the headache being stronger and the dizzyness that had previously disappeared for a couple hours, had come back fully. Only a couple steps could lead him to nearly tipping over and Kokushibo had to help him walk, which was extremely frustrating given he felt so useless like this. So weak and foolish. 

Two days went by, and he didn't seem to be getting better. Each day they would cut off part of Muzan's arm, though each day they resorted to cutting off less and less, because Muzan's condition made him have to focus all his strength on fighting whatever this illness was, and not on regeneration. Each day they took the piece of flesh and put it in the sun, only to watch it burn.

(Why did it take me so long to figure out how to write that paragraph 💀)

Muzan's illness only grew which was starting to bring back memories. The constant help he needed from Kokushibo, to fetch him some food, to take him simply to the other side of the room, it was frustrating and he was starting to actually get worried. 

By the end of the week he could not only barely stand but his regeneration was nearly twenty times slower then his normal rate. He hated this. He was trying to convince himself this was all a before affect of the spider lily but it really, he didn't actually believe it. As much as he wanted to, it was becoming obvious that he needed to stop this. And soon. 

But how? He didn't know how. Didn't even think there really was a way. He felt hopeless. 

Kokushibo tried keeping him going, but it was hard when he himself shared these worries. He constantly fretted over Muzan and tried keeping him at bay. 

Days went by as he continued getting worse and worse. And then weeks flitted past and Muzan's condition was as shit as ever. More so, if that was possible. A month passed into this, and Kokushibo told Muzan that if he didn't somehow get better soon, he might die. And when they came to this conclusion, Muzan felt absolute dread. He couldn't believe that this would happen. He couldn't. Fucking. Believe it. 

He didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to die. It sounded childish, of course, but death was his biggest fear. He merely feared Yoriichi because Yoriichi could bring him death. He feared the sun simply because it could kill him. He couldn't bear the fact he might die.

So, he asked Kokushibo for something. One night, one more unbearable night of pain, he'd been laying down in the silence, uncomfortable. Then, casually, he said, "Kokushibo? I may have been thinking and..."

Kokushibo shook his head. "If this is another 'I think this is just an effect,' then I don't want to hear it."

"No, I was thinking something. Maybe you could turn me into a demon or something? Like, I can make you into the demon king and you can give me your blood and turn me into a demon? I mean, give me your blood for more strength? As I've done for you and the other 12 kizuki?" Muzan suggested.

Kokushibo nodded slowly. "It could work.. but it would be painful for the both of us, no?"

"Would you mind? It'll go away fast. And I've been in pain these past few weeks, I honestly don't care about myself," Muzan said, sighing. 

"True. Alright then. I'll get you some food first, though."

When Kokushibo came back, the two demons ate in silence, both absorbed in their own thoughts. When they finished, they didn't do anything, unsure where to go from here. Then, quietly, Kokushibo said, "Can I.."—he hesitated for a beat—"kiss you? In case this doesn't work.. I don't want.. I want to be with you, actually, and not just worried and getting you things to help you with your sickness. I want to do this before anything happens. In case anything happens. If anything happens. You understand?"

Muzan nodded, definitely understanding. "Of course. But you better lean down here because I don't want this 'moment' to be me dying in pain."

Kokushibo chuckled softly, though it wasn't particularily funny. "I will." He leaned down, peppering Muzan's face and neck with kisses until the smaller demon was a whimpering mess. 

He stopped, eventually, letting Muzan breathe for a minute. "Kokushibo?"

"Yes?" he hummed, caressing his Master's face.

"I know I'm shit at affectionate things, but I love you, you know that, right?" Muzan murmured, leaning into Kokushibo's touch. 

"Mhm," his boyfriend smiled. "I love you too." 

Muzan flushed, still not used to any of this. "Thank you. For taking care of me."

Kokushibo nodded. "I wouldn't leave you even if my life depended on staying away."

They were silent, the comfort of each other spreading through their bodies. Eventually, Muzan said, "How do you want me to transfer my blood to you?"

"What will hurt least for you?"

"Probably if you use my finger. Or.." Muzan paused, a sly smile creeping up his face. "From my neck or my lip?" 

Kokushibo laughed. "Alright. So I'll kiss you while taking your blood like a vampire?" he said, amused.

"Sure, why not?" the demon lord said. 

"Okay, okay." Kokushibo paused, brushing Muzan's hair away from his forehead. "Love you, Muzan," he mumbled. 

"Love you too," Muzan said, sighing. 

The Uppermoon pressed his lips to Muzan's neck, carefully biting slowly down, making sure to make only a thin line which would be easier to regenerate. Muzan closed his eyes, concentrating on making sure Kokushibo got through with this. 

When Kokushibo moved up, feeling that that was all he needed to take in, he noticed how pale Muzan looked. But before he could ask if he was alright, pain shot through his body and he doubled over. He clutched his arms around himself, his mouth wide in a silent scream. 

But then the pain was over and he was panting heavily, sweating. He looked up to see Muzan still lying there, looking more sick than before. 

Kokushibo felt the opposite Muzan did, though. He felt alive. Powerful. Like he could do anything.

But instead, he leaned down closer to his lover and whispered urgently, "Are you okay?"

"Kokushibo," Muzan said, his voice like sandpaper. "Blood. Give me.. some of your blood."

"Right, right," Kokushibo murmured, panicking. He used his fingernail to slice his palm and he dripped some of his blood in Muzan's mouth carefully.

He watched his boyfriend swallow, and waited. The waiting was painstakingly slow and fear pressed Kokushibo's insides into a tight ball. His body felt like lead as he watched and waited. Nothing happened.

This wasn't what was supposed to happen, was it? When you were given blood, usually the effects started immediately. What had gone wrong? Kokushibo tried again, slipping more of his blood into Muzan's mouth. 

"Please, please work," he said, his mind and heart racing. He must've done something wrong. What had he done wrong?!

Muzan shook his head wearily. "Koku..shi.. Koku.. I don't think it's going to work," he mumbled, growing paler (is that a word?) by the second. 

"It will work! It has to work," Kokushibo insisted. As much as he'd known that it might not, he had hoped with all his might that it would. 

Muzan shook his head. "No, I can feel it.." He coughed rather violently, blood spilling from his mouth. "Kokushibo.. You'll be the demon.. lord now.. Continue on.. the work I've done.. Don't let it go to waste," he said, his eyes meeting the Uppermoon's. No, the demon king's. Kokushibo was the demon lord now. 

Kokushibo nodded weakly. "I will. But please don't die. Not yet. Please," he begged. 

"It's not my choice.. anymore," Muzan mumbled, closing his eyes. 

"No, no! Don't close your eyes, no, wait," Kokushibo said urgently, putting his hands onto Muzan's chest. What was it humans did? Something about chest compressions?? But this was different, no? All that could save Muzan was regeneration.. 

He desperately tried again to get his blood into Muzan, trying, and failing, to save him. Muzan coughed again, blood staining his clothes. 

"Kokushibo, it's no use," he said, his eyes still closed. 

"It has to work!" Kokushibo insisted. 

"It won't." 

The words were harsh and cut into Kokushibo like a knife. He knew it wouldn't, but the fact that Muzan had lost all hope made him feel suddenly hopeless as well. The words were so certain, so clear, and true. Unbearably true.

Kokushibo's hands left Muzan's chest and went to cup his face. "Fine," he said, all desperation drained from him. "Then.. goodbye, Muzan."

Muzan nodded slowly, painfully. "Yes, goodbye." 

"I still love you," Kokushibo murmured. "I won't stop."

Muzan's mouth twitched into a smile. "Such a flirt," he said, sighing deeply. "I won't stop loving you either, I promise."

And then he was gone. His chest stopped moving in it's uneven sort of breaths and the pale gradiant of his skin slowly went deathly white. Kokushibo didn't know how long he sat there, holding Muzan's face in his hands, but it was long enough for the touch of his fallen lover to become cold. Ice cold. 

He retracted himself when he realized that and stared at the body. Then, he realized, it was starting to disintigrate. He wondered, for a split second, why it hadn't disintigrated earlier. This was as Muzan had died first as a human then left the earth as a demon. Kokushibo's hand clutched the slowly disintigrating arm of Muzan's, until there was nothing but cloth in his grip.

He held onto it tightly, fearing that if he let this go, it would turn to dust as well and he would have nothing left of him. Kokushibo's upper body shook in sharp, shuddery breaths. He was trying not to cry. But try as he might, tears rolled down his cheeks.

He hadn't cried in a long time. Centuries. He never had a reason to. He'd never felt pain that lasted, never pitied anyone to the point of tears. In fact, he'd never felt much emotion since he became a demon. And then Muzan came along and made him feel. Feel happy, for once. 

Made him cry. Ugly, shaky sobs that ripped through his body. He buried his face in his hands and screamed. How could the world take Muzan from him? How could it take the one person who had ever made him feel? 

The floor trembled and he looked up. Then, he realized with a start, it was himself who was trembling. From fear, anger, and sadness. Sorrow. He'd never felt that before. When his mother died, he had been disappointed. But he'd never really been close to her. To anyone. 

When Yoriichi died, he'd felt only powerful. And powerless. But never grief. Never anything like this. He'd never felt this sort of internal pain that teared him from inside out. His hands, still clutching tightly the bloody cloth Muzan had worn the day he died. Today. 

The day Kokushibo became the demon lord, failed to save the previous one, and lost his lover all at once. The day he felt. Felt nothing but pain. 

He looked at the clothes and buried his face into it, uncaring it was covered in blood. The blood would disappear soon. Gone with Muzan. Gone. 

The word vibrated inside his mind, bouncing off the walls in his head and repeating over and over and over. Gone. Muzan was gone. Forever.

And it was all Kokushibo's fault. He had failed his master, his boyfriend, the person dearest to him. He had failed and Muzan had died and it was all. His. Fault.

{Word count: 2600}

Well now that lightheartening oneshot is done 😊

ALSO THE PICTURE I USED FOR THIS IS SO SILLY AHOIDAKMS (okay bye you chaotic demons-)

(pt. 2 here)

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #angst #sillyness #uppermoons #demons #kokuzan #kokushibo #spider lily #muzan #muzan jackson #slight fluff #angsty shit #*demonic laughter* #kinda depressing to write #hi #random ahh ship writing #random tags>>>>> #random writing #more random tags #writing a part 2 for this rn ahhaha...

[itsme-tori]

Awful Silco takes I've seen

So yeah in this post I'll be touching on the shitty Silco takes I've seen going around a lot in the fandom and also the ones which I don't see too much but still make me want to jump off a bridge.

Note: Just because I'm very willing to defend Silco, I understand that he's not a good man nor the best father. I'm very willing to recognize his crimes and I can make a whole list on them if asked.

Silco was only in it for the power

People tend to say how Silco was just trying to satisfy his insatible thirst for power. How he's just another power-hungry villain, using his "Anything to achieve power" speech as proof that it was his main goal.

The thing is, in ep 3, we get to see what is ACTUAL goals were. We see him talking to Vander and when Vander asked if it was all for pride, Silco says, in disbelief that Vander would say that "For respect. Opportunity Everything they've denied us." This isn't a man hungry for power, this is a man hungry for freedom. His speech later only confirms it.

"We had a vision Vander! A dream of freedom. Not just for the Lanes but the whole of the underground, united as one! The Nation of Zaun." His whole body moves with theses words. His believes in this dream. This is something he's always fought even before the betrayal. This isn't just a power grab for him.

Silco didn't do anything to improve Zaun/Silco didn't care about Zaun

A lot of people tend to gloss over the changes that Zaun has went through during the timeskip:

People are in much better clothing than they were in Act 1. There's air filter machines, cars and the economy looks much better improved.

Another thing, Silco has the power over enforcers now. They don't just come in as they please whenever something happened topside. I mean cmon! Compare Piltover's reactions when the kids blew up the building and killed no one in Act 1 to when Jinx blew up a building and killed six enforcers. Yeah, improvement.

There's also a widespread misconception that shimmer is a completely awful drug only used to get people addicted. Yes we do see people in Zaun sadly get addicted to shimmer and in turn ruined their bodies, but:

This belief completely glosses over Silco and Sevika's use of shimmer (medicine for Silco's eye and Sevika's use for it in battle.)

Heck even Caitlyn used shimmer to save Vi's life. Just one drop was used to heal a literal stab wound in seconds. The reason Sky is even dead in the first place is because Viktor decided to not get any shimmer.

Yeah it's 100% bad guys :P

Okay now let's get onto the very awful takes on Silco's relationship with Jinx. Buckle in folks.

Silco's taking in of Powder was a manipulation tactic

This is completely unfounded. Like really? The guy was literally going to stab her only mere seconds ago! How in that moment did he realize that she could be useful to his goals? She's just a mere a child in his eyes and he didn't know that she was the one who made the bomb in the first place!

No instead, his taking in of Powder was one of his few actions in Act 1 that wasn't related to his goals. This girl, crying unto his chest after he asked her where her sister was, sobs out, "She left me. She is NOT my sister anymore." It is at this moment he looks at Vander's body, finds that her pain is similar his, hugs her and gives her words of comfort that she takes right into her heart: "We'll show them. We will show them all."

I've seen people also claim that Silco kidnapped Powder which I go over in this post here.

Silco only loves Jinx as a tool

I know that at first glance that it may *seem* like he only keeps her around for her skills but have you people actually considered that she was also pretty detrimental to his cause?

Literally their first scene together after the timeskip was after she messed up badly on a mission. Sevika complains on how she's just a problem and Silco instead calls out Sevika for not "making sure things went smoothly."

Jinx was the one who messed things up yet instead of a punishment, she only gets a kind rundown of how things will be affected and a day off for her to rest and "focus on her gadgetry."

If she was merely only loved for her usefulness, then Silco does a pretty shit job at making sure she's the perfect solider who doesn't mess up missions.

I mean, look how much he cherishes her! He keeps her gifts around where anyone can see them. Even when she went and killed six enforcers, his only actions against her were to yell at her and take her pen from her when she wasn't listening.

He refuses to give Jinx to Piltover in exchange for the Nation of Zaun, his entire life goal. That is enough proof that he loved her.

Silco doesn't care about Jinx's mental issues/Keeps Jinx mentally instable so that she'll only be loyal to him

Silco takes Jinx to river in ep 5 after she confides in him that she couldn't solve the hexgem in an attempt to help her with her demons.

It's here in this scene that he's wanting her to kill Powder because I quote Silco, "So that the fear of pain will no longer control you." He doesn't want Jinx to be a prisoner of

Why waste all that time on helping her with issues if he doesn't care?

Also there's also there's this weird thing about people saying that had Silco cared, he would've taken her to therapy. WHERE are any signs that therapists exist in their world. Show me the person who has PhD on psychology.

Silco knows she has tons of problems. But what could he do? He's just a broken man helping his broken daughter the only he knows how.

Silco lied to Jinx about Vi being dead

You're telling me that that whole "FROM THE DEAD?!" scene just flew by your head completely? Dude, you're due for a rewatch asap.

Marcus arrested Vi (without Silco or Jinx knowing whatsoever), told Silco that Vi was dead and Silco relayed this to Jinx.

He had NO idea he got fucked over by Marcus until Vi actually came back. That's why he even went to the Sherrif's house in the first place! He threatened Marcus to fix what he's done or there would be consquences.

Silco and Jinx's relationship is romantic/sexual

*seen throwing up into a sink* Sorry sorry but what? A girl being close to man does NOT always mean they're in that kind of relationship. "B-but I wasn't close to my dad like that omg-" shut up for the love of everything that's good in this world. Just because you weren't close physically to YOUR parents doesn't mean it's the same for everyone else.

I'm very close to my mom. I hug her constantly, kiss her on the cheeks, heck I've even slept in the same bed as her for some period of time when I was like 14/15. This DOES NOT mean I want to fuck my mom nor does she want to do the same to me (haha I nearly died typing this message).

"But she sat on his lap-" okay and? Jinx is someone who very clearly goes up into people personal space when she wants to interogate them.

Look at her interrogation scenes with Theiram and Sevika. She got all up close to them but for some reason no one bats an eye at this. This is very typical Jinx behavior which doesn't mean she wants to fuck any of these characters. Context matters people.

Silco should've let Jinx died if he really cared

I shit you not, I've seen not one but multiple people claim this. HUH? You're actually fucking telling me that a father seeing his daughter near death and doing everything he POSSIBLY could do fo save her life, is a sure sign that he doesn't care about her?

I've seen someone argued that since she wanted to commit suicide, Silco should've respected her wishes.

First off dimwits, Silco didn't KNOW she pulled the pin herself. He came only in aftermath, seeing her all bloodied, ashed and went full dad panic mode. Second off, no parent, let alone Silco, would let their child to die just because they're suicidal. I seriously hope these people never meet someone with suicidal thoughts. Like I'm actually serious.

Jinx shot Silco to purposefully save Vi

Look at the scene where she shoots and kills him. She's in the middle of a breakdown and only struck when she heard the click of her gun.

Nothing in that moment mattered to her. Not Vi, not Silco. She was merely reacting to sound which she percieved as a threat. She doesn't even look back to see if Vi was okay, she's completely in her world. I find this scene to be a parallel of her breakdown in ep 4.

Now, this isn't to say that she doesn't care about Vi. She LOVES her sister. But at that moment, Jinx only cared about keeping herself safe.

The "You're Perfect" line was a manipulation Tactic

I'm sorry I just don't see how a scene where a father literally comforts his daughter who just shot him as just some ploy to get her to do what he wants.

He already very clearly expressed how the Nation of Zaun was nothing compared to Jinx ("Is there anything so undoing, as a daughter?)

His last words were as followed: "I never would've given you to them. Not for anything. Don't cry, you're perfect." There's so 'you have to complete this goal for me', this is him dispelling her fear of being betrayed by him and his final message of love. Nothing mattered to him in his last moment, only thing he cared about was his daughter.

#silco #jinx #arcane #bad silco takes #please stop #i'm going to die #i know I'm biased but if you're gonna hate on my blorbo at least do it right #i can list all the reasons why he's bad if you want #also PLEASE check out sweatandwoe's post of why Silco shouldn't be blamed for child labor #it's a very good read #arcane meta #kuro-tori

[pearl484-blog]

My issue with Senti-Adrien

One of the reasons I don't like the senti-adrien theory is because I feel it takes away an important element of the environment he's grown up in: that pervasive feeling that it's wrong to not be okay with something, that it's wrong to disobey.

In the culture I've grown up in, Doublespeak is used A LOT. You are NEVER supposed to insult someone or have an impolite conversation with them. You can't express discomfort, and I always seem to find myself in disgreements where if I leave to cool down, that's not the right option.

Everyone -especially the women who face more social stigma- is likely going to get into a situation that they CAN'T leave. They don't know how, and they may not even have the tools to recognize that they WANT TO. That it's not healthy. After all, if someone hasn't done something OBVIOUSLY WRONG, you can't be impolite. Even if you're uncomfortable.

Of course, then it becomes a slow boil, the things you have to not react to (and sometimes even pretend you enjoy) become worse and worse, but never so much worse than the last time you didn't react.

In the end, a lot of people don't understand why you would be near people who make you feel uncomfortable. Why you can't stand up for yourself. Why you treat people who treat you like shit kindly.

Adrien could've been a girl and depicted this. A high class girl constantly under the spotlight for her father's fame could easily be pressured to be a sweetheart, a good girl, and everyone could see "oh, well, she's a girl. Of course she'd be taken advantage of eventually. An abusive father? Well, I'm not surprised."

But Adrien’s a guy who is under the same social pressures as a girl in a believable way. He's not expected to be abused in that way. He's a guy. Guys "can't be emotionally abused/not know this is wrong". Except, yes, they can. Anyone of any gender can be abused by anyone of any other gender, and a guy may show traditionally female signs of abuse and grooming as abused to the traditionally masculine agression and acting out.

First off, Adrien is a model. He's used to being constantly objectified. His body is literally posed for everyone to stare at as his job. He's also a teen model, and almost certainly has had to release private details of his life for strangers to obsess over in an environment that says this is normal. This is good.

He can't complain because much like girls here, it would ruin his reputation as a nice guy, so he's defaulted to a very normal coping skill in these parts. Rationalization. See, it's easier to keep your temper if you can excuse others behavoirs as perfectly reasonable to yourself. And with enough practice, ANYTHING can be reasonable. Combine that with the classic downplay, a classic of everyone in these parts -for the sake of politeness of course, and your reality is normal, bearable, not worth complaining about.

But it obfuscates mistreatment to outsiders. Outsiders who haven't internalized "this is okay. This is normal. This is expected". As Adrien interacts more and more with these outsiders, and they realize what Adrien does not, what he cannot, they become concerned.

And Chat? Chat Noir offers hope. Chat is proof that Adrien, without those social pressures, CAN stand up for himself, and he can do it while still being kind and empathetic and considerate. Chat is proof that deep down, Adrien would thrive outside of those pressures.

Yet, without Plagg, without his ring or an escape, he cant. He can't think of a way to do that since his reputation is on the line. It's enormous, that desire to make people think you're good, that you're not a trouble maker, that you're useful to them. Adrien, I feel, portrays that well.

It is a completely invisible, omnipresent force that outsiders cannot understand. You dont even understand how much of an effect it has on you until you're away from it.

The senti-monster theory makes that force one you LITERALLY cannot disobey. Now, some may argue that makes it work as a metaphor, but no. I think the fact that you CLEARLY have no choice, as seen by an outsider is to its detriment. Yes, being in that situation makes you feel like you have no choice, but to an outsider?

It looks like you do, you're just not taking it. It looks like you're too weak, or indecisive, or stupid to do the obvious thing and realize you're in an abusive situation and leave. There’s nothing an outsider can blame your "flaws" on, no excuse, and under the amount of pressure, nothing that you can say that would justify you be so weak/stupid/indecisive. Because unless you've been outside that culture in a way that let you realize what it did to you, all you can think is that it was just you.

#trigger warning abuse #Trigger warning grooming #adrien sentimonster theory #miraculous ladybug #miraculous lb #Adrien Agreste #When a metaphor becomes harmful to your message #ml analysis

[mariana-oconnor]

The Retired Colourman pt 1

Absolutely no idea about this one whatsoever. So that's fun.

“Did you see him?” he asked. “You mean the old fellow who has just gone out?” “Precisely.” “Yes, I met him at the door.” “What did you think of him?” “A pathetic, futile, broken creature.”

Holy shit, Watson. Say what you really think.

You remember you're publishing this, right? You know it's going to be read by people?

“Exactly, Watson. Pathetic and futile. But is not all life pathetic and futile? Is not his story a microcosm of the whole? We reach. We grasp. And what is left in our hands at the end? A shadow. Or worse than a shadow—misery.”

Starting out strong with the nihilism here. We're barely 100 words in and already the existential dread is strong in this one. Not that I necessarily disagree, but yikes. And again I say yikes.

"He made his little pile, retired from business at the age of sixty-one, bought a house at Lewisham, and settled down to rest after a life of ceaseless grind."

ACD really wasn't fucking around with this one, huh?

He's really leaning into the horror of the mundane existence. Yes, you'll work all your life to try to retire comfortably, but even then, even after all of that mindless effort beats you down and you're finally free of it. Even then, things can still turn to shit.

Life's the laugh and death's the joke, it's true.

"And yet within two years he is, as you have seen, as broken and miserable a creature as crawls beneath the sun.”

All these descriptions of him are just making him turn into Gollum in my mind.

"Ernest was frequently in the house, and an intimacy between him and Mrs. Amberley was a natural sequence, for you must admit that our unfortunate client has few outward graces, whatever his inner virtues may be."

That seems highly unfair. Clearly you're seeing him at a low point in his life, first and foremost, and all she had to do was either not marry him or not cheat on him. It's not that hard... She seems to just be a rather horrible person, all told. Unless none of this is true.

“Well, the immediate question, my dear Watson, happens to be, What will you do?—if you will be good enough to understudy me."

It's not that I don't have faith in Watson's detective skills, but...

No, it is that. It's definitely that. I have no faith in his detective skills. I might even have negative faith in his detective skills. This can only go badly. Poor Mr Amberley. First, your wife cheats on you, then she absconds with your life's savings, then you go to a detective to help her and all you get is a series of insults that will be published to the entire world and the detective's best friend.

And so it was that on a summer afternoon I set forth to Lewisham, little dreaming that within a week the affair in which I was engaging would be the eager debate of all England.

I'm guessing it's a bit more complicated than a cheating, thieving spouse then, huh? Unless you make such an utter hash of it that you turn it from a personal matter into some sort of incident of national security, which I'm not saying you couldn't, but it seems a little extreme.

Apparently even though this is literally a Watson investigation, we're not going to get a first hand account of his investigations, we're going to get him telling Holmes what he discovered.

“Cut out the poetry, Watson,” said Holmes severely. “I note that it was a high brick wall.”

I mean, I was thinking it too, but I wasn't going to say it... And I'm not sure what you expected, Holmes, this is exactly what you always complain about him doing.

“He seemed to me like a man who was literally bowed down by care. His back was curved as though he carried a heavy burden. Yet he was not the weakling that I had at first imagined, for his shoulders and chest have the framework of a giant, though his figure tapers away into a pair of spindled legs.”

Look, he's Gollum to me forever now. I can't change that.

Gollum with a prosthetic leg, I guess.

"The garden was all running to seed, giving me an impression of wild neglect in which the plants had been allowed to find the way of Nature rather than of art. How any decent woman could have tolerated such a state of things, I don't know."

Some women don't like gardens, Watson. And also, that's coming dangerously close to victim blaming. Unless this guy turns out to be an abusive dickhead, I'm going to ask you to refrain from implying that the absconder's conduct was justified. Particularly not because the garden was overgrown...

"'When did I ever refuse one of her requests? Was ever a woman so pampered? And that young man—he might have been my own son. He had the run of my house. And yet see how they have treated me! Oh, Dr. Watson, it is a dreadful, dreadful world!’"

Got to say, in spite of my sympathy for the fact that his life clearly sucks right now, Mr Amberley is not endearing himself to me. I can't tell quite why. He's perfectly within his rights to complain about all of this. Maybe it's the tone? Maybe I'm back on my vibes bullshit... Watson clearly doesn't like him very much. There's a definite sus vibe here...

“He showed me his strong-room, as he called it. It really is a strong-room—like a bank—with iron door and shutter—burglar-proof, as he claimed."

That seems quite intense for someone whose house is a rundown mess. Everything is falling apart, except the strong-room.

"He had got back from the theatre about midnight and found the place plundered, the door and window open, and the fugitives gone. There was no letter or message, nor has he heard a word since."

While the disappearance of the wife at the same time is suggestive, particularly given her key, it is also purely circumstantial. We have no proof that she is the thief nor that she herself has not come to a sticky end.

“No doubt! No doubt!” said Holmes. “A tall, dark, heavily moustached man, you say, with gray-tinted sun-glasses?”

Holmes... are you stalking your bff again? You know it's weird when you do that, right?

"What of Dr. Ernest? Was he the gay Lothario one would expect?"

Presumably not if he was having an affair with the wife...

Sorry, couldn't resist. Language, you evolve so beautifully sometimes.

"With your natural advantages, Watson, every lady is your helper and accomplice."

Holmes just saying 'Watson, use your natural charisma and raw sex appeal to seduce women into giving you information.' Watson is such a bard.

Maybe he could talk to the gay lothario as well...

"I can picture you whispering soft nothings with the young lady at the Blue Anchor, and receiving hard somethings in exchange."

Hard somethings, huh? Is that what they were calling it in 1899?

This is... Holmes just wants Watson to slut it around town, apparently. Pimping him out to the girl at the post office and the wife of the greengrocer. The scandal.

"As a matter of fact, my information confirms the man's story. He has the local repute of being a miser as well as a harsh and exacting husband."

So, yes... bad vibes.

But it's date night, apparently.

“He would not have telegraphed to you if he did not know something. Wire at once that you are coming.” “I don't think I shall go.”

Now that is definitely sus. Why would he not want to chase up every possible lead. This is his wife and his life's savings. Something is up if he doesn't want to look for either of them.

Is this a real clue, or is this something that Holmes has set up deliberately to get the man out of the way?

“Whatever you do, see that he really does go,” said he. “Should he break away or return, get to the nearest telephone exchange and send the single word ‘Bolted.’ I will arrange here that it shall reach me wherever I am.”

Clearly he's involved in something nefarious if there's fear about him running away. But why contact a famous detective if you're in some way involved in the crime you're asking for their help with. Unless you're utterly convinced you're intelligent enough to outsmart them, which I guess, maybe...

I have no clue at all where this one is going. All I have really gathered from this story is that life is terrible and that one must keep ones garden in good repair else one's spouse may steal one's money and run off into the night.

Or maybe he bricked her up inside the house somewhere and he's painting over the scratch marks from where he dragged her kicking and screaming through the house... Probably not. That seems kind of dark.

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #The Retired Colourman #long post

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Someone Close By

TW: references to a difficult past, blood and burning mentions (nothing happens they're used in conversation, it's mostly just fluff)

Note: Villain is referred to as 'Tiger' once. Also, I am incredibly tight on time, n I just found this in my drafts, I will get to the asks, I just have 16 million hw assignments to do 😣

One of the most annoying things about Villain was his stupid habit of throwing out a cryptic "You'll see," when anyone asked why he was doing something. He responded casually and automatically, with a languid gaze. And it was infuriating.

So when Hero had asked another question, she was quick to add a "Don't say it. Don't you dare say it."

"You'll see," he replied, tone lazy and offhand, maybe even a little self-satisfied.

She slammed one of her fists on his desk. "Why can't you just answer the question like a normal person?"

"Show, do not tell." He shrugged at her nonchalantly.

"You- you suck at writing," she accused, wagging a finger at him. Anything to gnaw at his ridiculously inflated ego.

"Hmm, tragic." The sarcasm lined his tone, like a thin, sheer veil draped over an otherwise emotionless attitude. The more striking irony was the fact that he complained about being assigned essays for school and his piss-poor writing skills on the daily. Bringing it up wouldn't affect him, she learned. Not after that reaction.

"You're incredibly dense, you know," she breathed out, frustrated, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Mhm. And yet here you are, wasting your time conversing with someone as incredibly dense as me." He spoke with a hint of amusement, more self-satisfied than anything, his eyes still fixed on his computer screen.

"Sometimes," she attested through gritted teeth, "you have to force yourself to endure what you don't really enjoy in the slightest, for a greater benefit."

"Ah," he concluded, some sort of finality to his tone, "so you admit that you have to put up with however I behave." The corner of his lip twitched up only slightly, the ghost of a smile gracing his lips. Unlike how she'd anticipated, it hadn't seemed so ill-fitting on a normally emotionless visage.

"I could still break your nose," she threatened, letting her shadow fall over his seated form.

He only raised an eyebrow in response, the dirt-eating smirk still visible on his lips.

"You know, you seriously need to relax." He continued typing with his left hand, and he let the cool fingers of his right hand stroke up and down her arm, almost soothingly.

At that, she froze. "Y-you don't like. .  .you don't like touching people."

"True that," he admitted. "Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"No," she replied, before she could stop herself, and her face burned with an emotion she couldn't discern.

"Ah well, I remember you saying a touch could be calming?" At this point, he just sounded uncertain, a little confused if you will, every trace of the smug know-it-all from before vanishing.

"Yes, but I thought you were doing this to mess with me? Annoy me?"

This time, he finally met her gaze, lowering his hand to the desk again. "No. I think I've done enough of that."

She would rather be burned alive than to admit her arm felt cold where his hand had just touched. "That you have," she replied, rolling her eyes and earning a snort from him.

"It was reflexive. But I wasn't joking. You really do need to relax."

He was right, and she hated it. But she'd always been so tense; she couldn't even tell what being normal felt like to her. She didn't know it was so obvious that he could read it off her like a magazine.

"Do you want to watch a movie? I could use a break."

"You and a break? Don't you have a bad relationship with those? You never get tired," she mocked, smirking.

He turned around in his chair, "Not tired, just bored. Not doing something that important anyway."

Liar. He was both bored and tired, if the dark circles under his eyes and the way he seemed to slump, trying to let the tight line of his shoulders fade. He slowly ran a hand through his hair, a common tell for when he was exhausted. Except he hadn't known she could tell.

So, they found themselves sprawled out on the living room couch, the lights dimmed and a bowl of salted caramel popcorn resting on Tiger's lap.

He may have pretended to be a health nut, but deep down, he was a major sweet tooth. The movie playing on the flatscreen TV was terribly violent, gunshots and a ridiculous amount of blood featured in every scene or the other. It was definitely NOT the kind of movie one would relax to. Yet here they were, Villain was leaning back, one leg crossed over the other, and Hero had unclenched her jaw, her shoulders more slack now.

To the film's credit, there were a few light-hearted moments, mostly dark humour, enough to draw a laugh even out of him.

"He's not going to kill him," she said, completely certain.

"There would be no point of all this then. He's definitely going to kill him," he countered through a mouthful of popcorn.

And sure enough, he did not kill him.

"No way!" he protested.

"I've seen enough movies to read between the lines, kitty cat." She let a smug grin dance across her face.

The nerve of her. "Alright, Steven Spielberg, I get it," he huffed out.

The movie wasn't over yet. This was only half of it. Again, she found the fingers of his right hand running up and down her arm, his left currently sticky with caramel and tiny bits of popcorn alike.

The touch was relaxing, even with his calloused fingertips. Maybe even more so. "Do you want me to change the movie?" he asked softly, reaching for the remote.

He must've taken notice of how the line of her shoulders went taut only slightly. A scene in the movie where an older sibling took the pain to save the younger ones. The way it was acted out hit a little too close to home. "No. I'm fine really, and besides there's not much time left, and I wanna know what happens."

"Anytime you want me to change, just say it." And he continued caressing the skin of her arm absentmindedly. If she focused on that, then whatever the movie dished out wouldn't matter.

There was much worse she'd lived through, much more provocative to her triggers. At least right now, she had the comfort of someone close by.

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