#i'm sorry for mistakes and/or misinterpretations

[arscorpii]

the way utena held onto wakaba and anthy's hands, trying her best to not let go (even though utena was barely holding onto anthy's hand, i'm sure she never wished to let anthy slip away from her grasp). both shots were lit with soft lighting ⟶ to highlight the importance of the person utena was holding onto and their bonds to utena.

the fact that she reached out to them with her left hand, the hand on which she wore her rose crest ring (the ring being clearly visible in both shots) ⟶ utena believed that she could only save wakaba and anthy by being a prince/playing the role of a prince.

utena caught wakaba's right hand with her left hand; wakaba wasn't holding back. meanwhile, anthy reached out to utena's left hand with her left hand as well. i think the difference in how each pair held hands may lie within the ideals between the pairs in their respective circumstances. with regard to wakaba, she harboured lots of pent-up emotions and thoughts about how unfairly the (ohtori) world treated the people it regarded as "special" and "ordinary," such as utena and herself. wakaba was clouded with feelings of inferiority and wanted to be special, to put it simply. utena didn't understand/wasn't aware of these dichotomous mechanisms/systems at play, at this point at least. these conflicting ideals, as in, awareness versus ignorance, were represented in the way they held hands; the hero/chosen one with her firm grasp on the motionless hand of the underdog/forgettable one.

with regard to anthy, the moment utena cracked open her coffin was the first time the both of them saw each other as they truly were. utena believed in a world beyond eternal pain and suffering anthy had to endure and wanted to share that view with her, wanted anthy to see and experience such a world, to save her from this needless perdition for good. eventually, anthy took the chance on the possibility, given how unyielding utena was in trying to reach her despite being stabbed by anthy herself; anthy hesitantly reached out to utena. both utena and anthy wanted to believe in a world where suffering is transient when they reached out to one another through the coffin opening, and not an eternally all-consuming pain as their fates in ohtori. they shared similar hopes in that moment.

utena reached out to both wakaba and anthy with kindness and love:

in the duel with wakaba, she never drew out the sword of dios or fought her. utena de-escalated the duel carefully by taking hold of wakaba's sword (the sword pulled out of saionji) and cutting off the black rose. despite not understanding the sequence of events that had them facing each other off in the dueling arena, wakaba was one of utena's closest friends and utena would save her. it's a little interesting to note that the audience (and utena, too i believe) didn't get a glimpse of wakaba's face during utena's speech as above. in addition, the focus on their interlocked hands when utena mentioned about not understanding the situation and saving wakaba is also interesting (even though the interlocked hands were due to them struggling against each other). it's possible what utena said at that moment may have reached her heart even while being under the control of the black rose. perhaps the speech may have made wakaba realise that she was indeed special. this "specialness" was emphasised by utena not letting wakaba fall into the outline of one of the bodies like the other black rose duelists; because she mattered to utena. "to not be chosen is to die" but in a way, she was chosen by utena here beyond the presented choice between her or anthy. utena chose wakaba and anthy.

in episode 39, akio used the sword pulled out of utena to break through the rose gate. utena was injured and incapacitated by anthy's stab, while anthy was relentlessly impaled with millions of swords embodying humanity's hatred. akio's futile attempts eventually broke the sword and he gave up on the pursuit. so long as he had anthy, he could try again, as in, try again to gain the power to "revolutionise the world" instead of freeing his little sister. utena tried opening the rose gate with her bare hands; dragging her injured body there, clinging onto the thorny vines of the roses on the gate, pushing through the large stone doors. she only wanted to stop the swords from hurting anthy, to help her. utena's love and care for anthy finally unlocked the rose gate into anthy's coffin. utena steadfastly held out her hand to anthy despite anthy's protests. utena's efforts moved anthy to tears, and she reached out to her. in episode 38, utena chose anthy over akio, and all the way back to episode 11, utena chose anthy over the power to revolutionise the world. utena had always chosen anthy against all odds and choices.

the aftermath:

wakaba wasn't holding back possibly due to being under the control of the black rose while anthy's hand eventually slipped away from utena's hold.

nevertheless, utena's efforts matter, very much so, because wakaba will always be on utena's side no matter what happens and anthy will find utena no matter where she is.

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 42 || The Assumption

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language & heavy sexual tension.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——HOW LONG WERE HIS eyes on yours? Did he see you checking him out? Holy shit you're sweating now. Is this how Ino felt just a few moments ago because as you met Nanami's eyes, chills slithered down your spine and you swallowed hard due to the eye contact.

Nanami opens his mouth and you swear every second is killing you. "I've seen you before," He points out.

And boom, you're a mess already. His voice is so damn sexy you don't think you're going to be able to have a calm conversation like you planned to.

You just nod for a second and then you get the words out, "Y-Yeah, I've seen you before too."

Get yourself together woman.

Nanami narrows his eyes at you, "You were in Mr. Fushiguro's room that one time." He recalls.

Your brows furrow. Oh, that's what he remembers you from? Not the weeks you've been in the same building as him or even the times you bumped into him on 'accident'?

"U-Uh, yeah, I was." You nod again, the motion done slowly as you try to collect yourself.

The sound of Ino snickering nearby helps you snap out of your daze. "Not so confident now, hmmmm?" Ino teases, his words making you turn your head to him.

"Hush," You say with a playful glare.

Nanami raises a brow, his eyes yet to leave you. While you checked him out, he had long since done that from the moment he walked in and saw you chatting it up with Ino.

You then return your attention to Nanami after making back-and-forth silly faces to Ino before his attention is called elsewhere. Now you are alone with Nanami...

You swallow and take a deep breath. You swear you've been rehearsing this moment for months now, "Nanami Kento, right?"

He nods, just barely, "Mhm."

Is he even interested in anything you have to say? What's with the simple hum...?

Turning a decent portion of your body to him, you flash a kind smile, "I've been wanting to talk to you, y'know..."

"Have you?" Nanami asks, stern eyes boring into your own.

You nod your head, "Y-Yeah," God you need to stop stuttering. "I was just wondering if-"

"Sorry but," The man interrupts, almost as if he knew what your intentions were. "I don't sleep with women I've just met."

You blink. Oh, you're just baffled by his words. What the hell does he mean by that? And why did he say it so suddenly?? He can't just know you're talking to him because of Gojo... right?

"Uhm," You scoff, "Excuse me?"

Nanami's eyebrows raise for a moment, "Sorry, am I misinterpreting something?"

"Yeah, actually," Technically, no. But you were going to try to have an actual conversation with him before making any moves so it's almost rude of him to say such a thing to you, "You major in business, yes?"

He's almost thrown off by you and his head nods, now he's embarrassed he made a mistake. "Yeah-, yes, I do." Nanami stumbles over his words a bit.

"Right, well I'm a psychology major and I'm trying to land an internship at our university," You start explaining to him. Everything you're about to say is some bullshit you've come up with to have a conversation about but, you're sure it'll work out. "As of now, I was doing a personal study about which students in what majors experience more stress and I plan to use that data to get this position so,"

And that's when he realized he fucked up with his assumption. Nanami stares and his words come out very slowly, "...You're here to study me?"

"I prefer the term interview but, yes." You hum.

He grows a bit more serious, "I see. Well, I apologize for my earlier assumption, I just thought..." Nanami trails off a little and you watch the way he glances down.

You follow his gaze and look down at yourself. Then, you scoff again, the sound making him tense up in embarrassment and a bit of shame, "Did you assume I was some kinda' whore?" You ask bluntly.

His entire body freezes and he's visibly worried, his gaze flicking right back up to your own as he swallows, "I don't mean any offense by my assumption. It's just... Not that you look like a prostitute but, I get approached like that often and-"

"So, you thought I was a whore?" You repeat. Again, he's nervous and this time he avoids your eyes, the sight of him slightly fearful making you smirk.

"I'm sorry but, yes." Nanami says honestly, "That's my mistake, truly."

"Right..." You say dryly, your tone making him uneasy. "Well, it's a common mistake, unfortunately," You murmur, thinking back to Sukuna who previously joked about it to you, "But you can make it up to me."

Those stern eyes of his snapback over to you, "How uh, how so?" Nanami stammers, clearly again assuming you mean something else.

You chuckle and playfully hit his arm, "By letting me interview you, of course!" Your voice is suddenly cheerful and it makes him relax.

Nanami sighed heavily and then straightened up in his seat, visibly pulling himself together after the little mishap that occurred. "Right, of course." He says.

Your hand goes to your glass, "Did you assume I meant some other form of making it up to me?" You ask tauntingly.

"No," Nanami claims, his voice light, "Of course not."

You have one leg crossed over the other so you subtly move it and make light contact with his shin using the tip of your heel. Nanami's entire body goes rigid but he hopes you don't notice it.

"Of course not?" You repeat, chuckling a bit, "It's okay if you thought I meant something else, y'know."

He swallows, "I didn't." The man replies as he tears his eyes from you, glances down at your foot against him, ignores it, and then goes for his drink.

"I mean," You tip your head to the side and your confidence has returned to you, courtesy of your liquid courage coursing through you, "If you have another way to make up for mistaking me for a prostitute, I'm all ears, Mr. Nanami."

The title makes him swallow again, his Adam's apple seen moving down and then up in a slow manner. "I have no other way in mind, unfortunately." Nanami states simply, flicking his gaze to you for a moment, "Sorry to disappoint."

You grin, "Oh, I'm not disappointed at all. It just seemed like you had an idea in mind so," You shrug.

He stares for a second, thinking for a long moment before taking his eyes off you again, "Are you insinuating something right now?"

"No?" You laugh, "But, although I'm no whore, you are an attractive man so, naturally, I'm curious what you thought I meant when I said you could make it up to me."

Nanami sucks in a deep breath of air and then takes another sip of the drink he's had prepared for him. Then, as he places it down with a light tap to the bar, he turns his head to you, "Is this a part of your interview?" Nanami questions, raising a brow, "Is this some kind of reverse psychology question that'll help you get to know me?"

"There's no reverse psychology in my question at all," You giggle, "I'm being rather direct with you." The feeling of your heel slipping up his leg slightly makes him tense up, "First you assume I'm a whore, and then you think I'd want something naughty from you for doing so."

That statement causes the man to choke a bit, "N-Naughty?" He echoes, following the question with a hefty clearing of his throat and a turn of his head, "What-, I... I wasn't-"

You smile at the man and notice the tips of his ears are shaded the lightest bit of pink, "It's okay if you assumed that, y'know..."

Nanami keeps his gaze straight, "I did not-"

You move, leaning to his ear for a moment, "I'm no prostitute but, the more I talk to you, the more I think you'd prefer it if I was."

A sharp breath of air is sucked in and he doesn't dare to look at you. With a chuckle, you pull away, your eyes never leaving his face. It's so clear you have him nervous now, men like him are rather easy to work around. Show them you're not a whore but you wouldn't mind being treated like one and all of a sudden they don't know what to do with themselves.

The blond turns his head away completely, taking in the scenery of the rest of the bar before then turning back to you, "So what is it you want from me? Be honest. I can't tell if you're here for knowledge or..."

"Or?" You hum, raising a brow.

"Or if you're here to seduce me." Nanami finishes.

You shrug, "Maybe both."

It was like you could see the gears in his head turning, like he was in deep thought as his brown eyes met yours. Then, his brows tense slightly, "I didn't consider both..."

And just like that, you have an idea of where you can take this. "You should've." You reply.

"I am now." The blond responds, weighing his head to the side slightly as he maintains eye contact.

You pinch your brows together, "Mr. Nanami, have you ever slept with someone after meeting them at a bar?"

He freezes but you have him interested, so after a moment, "No, why?" He questions in return.

"Are you open to?" You proceed. And no, you're not trying to seduce him just yet. Instead, your plan here is to have him be the one to pine after you.

Nanami swallows and he's very careful with his words, "Typically no."

You pick up on it instantly, "Typically?"

"I may do something different tonight," Nanami explains, finally turning away from you. He glances past you a bit, watching Ino attend to others further down the bar.

"Yeah?" You grin, "And what's changed your mind?"

The male in front of you keeps his eyes away from your own but all his attention is still on you, "A woman who's intrigued me."

"And who might that be?" You quiz further.

He scoffs lightly, "Obviously, you."

And just like that, you've got him exactly where you wanted him. Now it was part of the next part of your plan where you reverse the flirting and force him into a situation where he reveals more of his thoughts and flirts with you.

You definitely have the alcohol in your system to thank for how smoothly this is going so far, "I'm flattered but, when I asked my question, I wasn't offering to do so."

Nanami grows embarrassed again, assuming he's made some kind of mistake as he shifts his gaze to you, "Oh, I-"

"I'm not a whore," You sigh, "But I do notice that sex-pertained questions always get the best answers out of men so," You shrug. "That was my first."

He catches on and nods his head, the slightest and simplest smirk spreading across his peach-tinted lips, "So... the interview has started now...?"

"It has," You say enthusiastically, "I'm glad you're keeping up with me."

Amusement sparks across the male's expression, "Cleaver woman you are."

"Mhm, I'm aware," You hum, smiling at him cheerfully.

With a sigh, Nanami places every ounce of his focus onto you, "Alright then, what's your next question for me?"

"Don't get too excited, not all of them are about sex." You say with a laugh, "Only the first one was. Y'know, to gain your attention since you already thought I was a hooker."

He swallows, "I really am sorry about that."

"You'll make up for it, relax," You brush off.

Then this 'interview' of yours proceeds and you ask him more mellow questions, questions that are rather simple and just help you get to know him. Such as asking about his age, whether or not he has a job, and what his day-to-day schedule looks like.

You continue the conversation, delving deeper into Nanami's personal life and interests. Asking him about his hobbies, interests, and goals for the future, all of which is done to make it seem like you're actually going to use this information. Nanami opens up more as the conversation flows, his stern demeanor softening ever so slightly.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

As you engage in the interview, there's this underlying look in his eyes. Perhaps it was the alcohol the two of you consumed but there were definitely some teasing touches and glances throughout all the talking.

Before you realized it, your questionnaire had transitioned into simply just two adults conversing. It was almost as if you'd approached the man naturally. He told you how his major in business was done with the intent of becoming the CEO of some famous company one day.

The surrounding nightclub is almost forgotten with how engaging the conversation carried on to be. Every time you made the stiff man laugh your heart would flutter a bit. You were beyond thankful for the drinking because it was clear that's what was opening him up to you.

Ino was to thank as well, as he had come to the two of you multiple times to offer another round, flashing you a cute smile and a taunting thumbs up to encourage you with Nanami.

Unbeknownst to you, your starting question weighed heavily on the man's mind. Your foot would constantly brush up against his leg and every time you giggled, he felt odd. Not to mention the sultry look in your eyes as you intently watched him speak.

Your eyes were on his lips at one point and your staring made him stammer for a moment before he decided to just point it out in hopes you would focus elsewhere. Nanami leaned in a bit and a gentle hand went to your chin, tipping your face up and trying to force your gaze to his.

"I understand you're interested in what I have to say but please," Nanami's voice is still as deep as ever but it's more relaxed and almost soft, "Keep your eyes on mine."

You're slow to drag your vision upward, "Can you handle that?"

The question throws him off and his brows push together, "I have been all this time, haven't I?"

You tilt your head and lean closer to the man, one of your hands suddenly going to his thigh to hold yourself up, "Not the whole time, no."

"Really?" He hums, ignoring how close your face is to his, "Where else have my eyes been? Hm?"

You giggle and pull your lower lip into your mouth. It's so obvious that you're slightly intoxicated, "Your eyes have been all over me," You say, your voice suddenly dropping into a whisper, "Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

He tenses as your hand starts caressing his thigh, trying to ignore the sensation. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about. I've kept my eyes on respectable areas at all times."

Another giggle slips out your lips, "I never said you didn't." Again, he freezes and this time you snicker, "You just told on yourself."

Nanami swallows and removes his hand from your chin, turning his head away from you, "You're teasing me again, aren't you?"

Your hand goes up without a second thought and you force his head to turn right back to you, "I wasn't," You murmur, inching closer, "But now I am."

The feeling of your thumb caressing his jaw makes the man's breathing pick up. He's not sure if it's the alcohol or just you in general but his body is suddenly so much more attentive to your touches. The sensation was so soft and small but it was steadily driving him crazy.

"Nanami," You murmur, breaking him from his thoughts.

His eyes dip down to your lips, "Kento," He corrects, "Just call me Kento."

Again, you have him exactly where you want him. "Earlier you said you don't sleep with women you've just met, nor have you ever slept with a woman you've met at a bar before..." You recall in a gentle tone.

He nods, unsure of where you're going with this, "Mhm..."

You bite your lips, "Perhaps we should change that tonight."

Nanami hums deeply, the sound vibrating against his throat as he struggles to lift his gaze from your lips. You're so close to him and your words and entire aura are intoxicating.

"How so?" He whispers in return.

"Take me home tonight..." You offer, soon shifting to the man's ear, "...and fuck me like a slut."

Those lewd words of yours went straight to the man's cock. Of all the things he could've expected from you, that was by far the last thing he expected to hear come out of your mouth. Sure, you flirted with him subtly here and there within the past few hours but...

That sudden offering of yours was entirely different.

There is no way you would've gotten this far without the alcohol in your system. As it is well known by now, you get horny when you're drunk so gradually throughout you and Nanami's conversation, you could feel your arousal building up.

Everything the man had done or said was noticed by you. From his large hand wrapping around the glass as he took a drink, to the way the smooth liquid flowed into his mouth, the way his voice got deeper and more relaxed, and even how he was looking at you now.

You could've never made such an offer if you didn't drink and Nanami would've never even considered it if he didn't either.

The stoic blond clears his throat and you pull away from his ear to meet his eyes, only to be met with a low and lustful gaze that makes your heart skip a beat. A careful brow is raised before you watch the man move out of his seat.

Standing at his feet, your head inclines up as nears you and that wonderful and dizzying scent of his cologne rushes into your nose. Nanami has the face of a young yet hardworking man and simply looking up at him as you are now gives you that urge to want to drop to your knees.

Perhaps the list truly has changed you. Maybe it wasn't the alcohol you drank tonight or the man in front of you. Maybe the problem here was you and your mind. Sure, you used to get horny before but to have the urge to suck someone off just because they've stood to their feet in front of you is...

Well, it makes you feel like the very thing Gojo tells you you're not; a whore.

Breaking you from your thoughts, Nanami leans down and places a hand on the bar beside you. You gulp as his face nears your own and then tense up when his other hand goes to cup your jaw, keeping your head angled up.

The man tilts his head and studies the look in your eyes closely, "You want me to take you home and... what?" He whispers.

You wished your confidence from moments ago had remained but as this man stood over you and held your face in his hands so delicately you could feel your thoughts turning to mush and your mouth going dry.

"Uh..." You mumble, staring back and forth between the man's eyes.

Nanami scoffs lightly, "Don't get all shy on me now," He says, "Tell me what it is you want me to do."

Your voice is small and barely even there, "Take me home..."

"And...?" He urges.

You swallow, "Fuck me..."

Nanami smirks, the reversal of roles here is driving him crazy. You were such a confident woman just moments ago, "Like...?" He murmurs, trying to get you to say the entirety of your initial statement.

You take your eyes off him and even try to turn your head away, "A uh-"

"Eyes on me, darling," Nanami voices out in that sweet yet husk tone of his.

You blink a few times before looking at him, taking a deep breath before speaking, "Like a slut."

He smiles just barely, "See? Was that so hard?" His voice and way of wording things are adding to your arousal for some reason.

"N-No..." You murmur.

Nanami's thumb moves to your bottom lip and his eyes sink to his actions as he swipes over it, "Exactly. And y'know what," He scoffs again, "You really aren't a whore." He says, almost as if he's surprised?

"I told you I wasn't," You whisper, pouting a little bit as he feels your lip against his thumb.

"Right, right," He hums, nodding a little, "Instead, you're one of those good girls who like to be treated like one, huh? Pinned against a wall, maybe with your hands tied up, and taking cock like it's the only thing you know how to do properly."

And just like that, you were soaked. Gulping, your breathing grows noticeably slower and Nanami could tell by your facial expression that you were aroused.

He chuckles, "We spent all this time talking, and yet I'm pretty sure the only thing you've been thinking about in that pretty little head of yours is how you're going to convince me to fuck you."

Your eyes widen and you genuinely don't understand how you let the dominance in the situation flip so quickly, "I-,"

"Don't worry," Nanami moves his thumb and he inches closer, his lips almost on yours as he whispers, "I'm convinced."

Your lips brush over his and your eyes threaten to close, "A-Are you?" Damnit, you need to pull yourself together.

The man nods ever so slightly but what he didn't expect was for you to move his hand away from your jaw and then stand up. You still have to incline your head up but as you stand, you don't miss the way his breath hitches when your chest presses into his.

Despite that, his head tips to the side again as he gazes down at you, "I am." He hums, shrugging a bit after, "I'll take you home and do just as you asked."

You hope he doesn't notice the way your eyes light up, "Yeah?"

"Mhm," His hands carefully go to your hips and you try your best not to tense up because his touch is so rough and yet oddly gentle at the same time, "Consider this my real way of making up for my assumption."

You chuckle, "You're gonna make up for thinking I'm a whore by-"

"Fucking you like one." Nanami finishes for you, even though that's not exactly what you were going to say.

The man suddenly spins you around and he begins to urge to to start walking away from the bar, moving to your ear as he does so, "This'll also help with your 'interview'." He claims.

You scoff and walk with him right behind you, his hands on your hips and his crotch bumping into yours briefly with every other step taken, "How so?" You ask in return.

Nanami stops the two of you from walking for just a second and pulls your body back into his. You can feel the large bulge in his pants pressing up against your ass and it makes your breathing stutter.

The man goes to your ear one last time and his voice is low but direct, "I'll show you just how 'stressed' I am."

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ☐ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I've Got You Under My Skin 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Summary: your husband is a very demanding man.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The keys jingle loudly as you rush out the door with your purse in your other hand. You just need to get out of the house. Sometimes, it feels like a prison. Especially lately. Since the fight.

You feel horrid for what you did. You made a mistake, sure, but you think Steve is right. You weren't paying attention to what he said. Now that you think of it, you may have misinterpreted your conversation based entirely on your own doubts.

Still, you're going to show him that you can do this. You've been reading up on it all night. Researching everything you need.

As you hit the button on the key tag, the car beeps and unlocks. The SUV is a bit bigger than what you would pick but Steve thought it was a good family vehicle. Besides, it's his money.

"Hey," he startles you as he appears from beside the garage. You blink and drop the keys.

"Hi, Stevie," you blanch and bend to pick up the keys as he approaches.

"You're running out," he doesn't sound impressed.

"Um, yes, um, doing some errands. Groceries."

"You could order."

You gulp, "I'm sorry. I was only... wanting to get out."

"Alone?" He inquires.

"Yeah, what--"

"You're not meeting up with Natasha for one of those sugary coffees?" He challenges.

You wince. "No, Captain. I'm not drinking caffeine anymore. It's not good... for conception."

He tilts his head and his cheek dimples, "ah, good girl."

"Do you want to come with me?" You offer.

His shoulders ease, "no. You can go. Grab some more protein. The banana stuff?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Drive safe," he girds.

"I always do."

He nods and turns back, "I'm gonna finish up the weeds."

You stare after him as he marches away. What does he mean? You just dealt with the garden. Once again, not good enough.

You get in the car and adjust the wheel and the seat. You buckle up and set your feet on the pedals. You flip the engine and put it in reverse.

You back out through the gate and onto the street. You drive, jaw locked, fingers cramped, tense in anticipation. You just want to make this better. You just don't know if it's too late.

You go to the grocery store first. You get the few items on your list. You have a lot of the staples still in the cupboards. You check out and use Steve's card. You don't have one anymore. He's a lot better with money than you.

Your next adventure makes you nervous. You stop outside the shop and stare through the window at the stuffed bunnies and the onesies. The maternity shop makes it all so real. You still feel so young. But you can do this. With Steve. He knows what he's doing.

You enter and the air rushes from your chest. Oh. Okay. That breast pump makes you nervous.

"Hi, how can I help you?" A woman chimes an approaches in a bubbly bounce. Her blond ringlets are perfect.

"Ummmm..." you fidget with your phone. "I looked online. Um, for prenatal supplements."

"Ah, yes, we have a whole aisle," she waves her arm and turns to stand beside you. "Do you have questions?"

"A lot," you admit.

"How long have you been trying? Oh, are you already expecting?" She wonders.

The questions feel too personal. Still, it's not like you came here without a purpose. You follow her to the far wall lined with bottles and vials of tablets.

"We're trying. Right now. Starting to. I just want to be healthy." You explain.

"Uh, huh, wonderful," she rubs her hands together. "Some of these you won't need until you're expecting but we can get you a few things. Maybe just have a look around for some inspiration, huh?"

"Sure, that sounds... good."

She explains to you all the organic supplements and even recommends some aphrodisiacs. Thing is, Steve doesn't need those. You pick a few and follow her around as she shows you mobiles and blankies. There's a little Cap squishee even. You pick it up and smile. He'll love that.

You take your goods to the counter and she rings you up. You dig in your purse and hand your card to her. She reads it passingly then pauses. 

"I thought you were familiar. Your Mr. Rogers. The Mrs. Rogers."

You squirm. Oh no. You forget how famous Steve is. Well, it's fine. It's not like she would tell anyone you know, right?

You just nod, "do you have bags?"

"Oh yes, I'll put this all away for you," she unfolds a paper bag and loads it up. "Anything else, Mrs. Rogers."

"Yeah," you choke. "My name's..." you correct her. Sometimes, you just feel like a part of Steve. Not your own person. "Thanks."

You take the bag and your card and leave. You sniff as you get to car and climb into the front seat. You put your purchase in front of the passenger's and sit there a while. You feel weird about this.

Just nerves. You start the car and head home. The trip is too quick. You're not ready.

You get out with the small paper bag and go around the trunk to get the reusable one with the T-bone steak and protein powder. You hit the button to close the hatch and go inside. You'd love to stay out in the sun but you couldn't relax if you tried.

"Stevie?" You call as you reach the kitchen. "Hello?"

He doesn't answer. You wonder if he's outside. You set to putting everything away.

"You're back." He greets, once more frightening you. You hate that.

"I got steak for supper. For you. I'll have some turkey."

"Great," it's not a happy remark. "You didn't come straight home."

You look away guiltily and shake your head. You're so stupid. You know he must have a tracker on the car. You grab the white paper bag.

"I was getting surprises." You offer him the bag. "Stevie, please, I'm sorry. And I meant it. I am trying."

You hold it out and he reaches inside with a scowl. His brows move in curiosity and he pulls out the Captain America plush. His expression softens and he peeks into the bag.

"Supplements. To get ready. And I'll go back for iron pills once I'm ready," you explain. "And I've been reading all night about how to get a baby. I should lay on my back and stay after for a bit. And-- and I ordered a book."

He tosses the plush and grabs you. His hands frame your face as you drop the bag and he pushes you back into the counter. His mouth covers yours as he growls.

You whine and touch his chest, overcome by his force. You were so afraid he wouldn't forgive you, that you're entirely unprepared for this. You manage to pull back.

"I-- Stevie, it won't happen now. But I threw everything out."

"I don't care," he snarls and drops his hands to your hips, "I need you right now." 

He lifts you onto the counter and you squeal. Your stomach flips but you ignore that flicker of fear. How you feel doesn't matter, as long as the Captain's happy.

[lyrefromthesea]

Hello! I was wondering if I could please request the Hashiras taking reader to a summer festival? I love a good fluffy seasonal scenario lol thank you🫶❤️ I love your writing style and can’t wait to see what you come up with!!

Hashira x Reader - Summer Festival

author's note: sadly i did not manage to imagine Shinobu in this scenario, for the sake of not misinterpreting her character, i decided to leave her out of my post. i apologize and hope you'll get to enjoy the other pillars.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader, Mitsuri x reader

content warning: none

Tengen:

you cocked your eyebrow at Tengen when he made a loud noise, imitating the sound of a buzzer telling you that you're in the wrong.

"what is it?" you ask, more than confused and mildly annoyed. he wore his hair down today, multiple pieces of jewelry making him stand out more than the other visitors.

"your outfit, it's good, but it could be better!" he claimed, pointing at the yukata you were wearing. you looked down at yourself, almost feeling a bit insulted by his words. it was rather simple, but you thought it would be enough.

"you need something more flashy!" he said, making you sigh. now you understood what he meant, his hands already on your shoulders, leading you to the next accessory stand.

"and what would that be?" you asked back, watching the people around you look confused by the man dragging you around.

"we need something showing off your beauty even more, beautiful." he deducted, stopping when you finally looked down on the beautiful jewelry.

this wasn't how you planned to start the festival, but you couldn't complain when he managed to fluster you once again.

Obanai:

"i'm sure we were supposed to meet here.." you mumbled, looking around the area. when Obanai invited you to the summer festival, he had explicitly asked for a spot without many people.

now you felt lost, you were sure he should've been here by now. it wasn't like he was late, but he usually came earlier than planned when you two wanted to meet somewhere.

before you could worry about his wellbeing, you saw something slither near your foot - Kaburamaru. the snake made it's way around your ankle, making you shiver.

"Obanai!" you scolded, looking around until your eyes stopped on a tree. you marched towards it, not surprised when you saw Obanai sitting on a thick branch.

"you could've said you were already here!" you said, watching him jump down the tree and land on his feet without much trouble.

"i'm sorry, i got distracted.." he admitted, your features slowly relaxing. he had been distracted? you found yourself asking him for more information. "for what?"

he looked at you, his eyes drifting to your outfit and then back to your face. his gaze softened, looking towards the festival's lights.

"nothing important.." if only you would've known he had been occupied watching your beautiful body, soft eyes trying to spot your lover.

Rengoku:

"excuse me?" another man said, his eyes fixed on you. naturally, you turned to face him, wondering if he needed help.

you had been walking through the crowds with Rengoku a moment prior, watching the different people interact with each other.

"i just wanted to say that your yukata fits you extremely well." the man said, almost appearing a bit bashful. and suddenly you weren't surprised anymore, realizing he didn't need help.

did it not look like Rengoku was your boyfriend? you wondered whether the man not knew or was bold enough to ask despite the obvious.

"you are right, my love is indeed beautiful in every way! it's not the festival alone, but every other day as well!" Rengoku answered, as if he didn't realize what kind of situation this was.

the man's face fell, realizing he had probably made a mistake by approaching you - at least while Rengoku was near. he soon turned away with a grumble, leaving the two of you alone.

"what a nice man!" Rengoku concluded, making you chuckle, looking away from him.

he really didn't know what the man's goal was. however, that somehow made Rengoku's compliment even sweeter.

Sanemi:

you were walking past the different stands with Sanemi, chatting about random topics that came to your mind, when he turned away from you, seemingly having spotted something interesting.

"wait here." he said, marching off before you even managed to ask what happened. you tried looking over the crowd, wondering where he had wandered off to.

not able to see him, you decided to do as he said, patiently waiting for him to return, yet you wondered what must've happened.

you didn't expect him to come back with something in hand, almost looking a bit flustered now. he moved past the crowd until he finally stood next to you again.

"i remembered you like them." he told you, extending his hand. you looked at the cut pieces of watermelon in his hand, neatly placed on a small rectangular plate.

he had gone out of his way to buy something you like from one of the booths.

"Sanemi.." you mumbled, slowly taking the plate out of his hand. your eyes stayed on the watermelon for a moment, glancing at him when you managed to answer.

"let's search for a nice spot and eat them there." you said, smiling at him in content. he nodded silently, wrapping an arm around your waist as you walked off.

Giyuu:

"damn it..!" you complained, seeing the small plastic fish fall off your miniature fishing rod. you gave up the small festival game, standing up again.

Giyuu looked at your sulking form, his eyes glancing at the prize sat in the festival booth. you had looked really happy when you saw it earlier, it hurt him to see that you weren't able to win it.

"let me try." he quietly said, giving the salesman another 500 yen. neither you nor the salesman would've expected Giyuu to be so good at the game though.

"you can stop now!" the man whined, seeing Giyuu get the last fish. there had probably been a dozen in total, but he didn't mess up once.

Giyuu looked at the man, standing up from his kneeling position to claim his reward. "my prize?"

"you can have it.." the man sobbed, handing Giyuu the prize you had grown so fond of earlier. without another word, Giyuu turned around to hand you the small gift.

"for you." he merely said, putting the small object into your hands. you awed at his actions, immediately throwing yourself against him.

"thank you, Giyuu!" you cheered, watching him hold you in surprise. he couldn't possibly ignore the little things that made you happy when he was rewarded with this kind of reaction.

Gyomei:

"are you sure? i'm not good with words." you told him, looking down at your hands. the two of you sat on the meadow, other couples sitting in the distance.

"you'll do good." he answered, placing a supporting hand on top of yours. you silently nodded, his encouragement always working wonders on you.

when you watched the first firework shooting into the air, exploding with a loud bang, you stared in fascination, eventually shaking your head to snap out of it.

you thought of a fitting way to describe it, knowing that colors wouldn't do for him. you decided to try a different approach, looking at the man you adored.

"it looked exactly the way a summer breeze felt. warm and somehow familiar." you told him, watching his lips pull up into a smile. you felt your heart beat harder than before.

you would've liked to comment on it, but the next firework was too fast for you. you watched the sky light up in a refreshing green color, feeling Gyomei scoot closer.

"and this one?"

Mitsuri:

"the sakura mochi here is so good!" Mitsuri cheered, pushing another one of the treats past her lips. she munched on the sweet food, swallowing it down in satisfaction.

you chuckled at her words and actions, taking one of the mochis and biting into it. "it is, the flavor is really good."

"another bowl please!" Mitsuri called out, turning your head to see the chef nod at the two of you. she had even stood up, waving her arm at the woman making her favorite food.

you looked at Mitsuri's clothes, the pink cloth she was wearing matching her hair and the sakura mochi perfectly. somehow she was fitting for this place.

you placed the empty bowl of sakura mochi on the other bowls, watching the stack grow. she had already eaten 7 bowls, but you guessed she was long from finished.

you two chatted as the chef brought you another portion, smiling at the two of you and walking away again.

"i'm full, you can eat that portion alone." you answered, a small smile on your face. Mitsuri looked surpised, putting the treat down again.

"we can go too, i don't mind..!" she said, wanting to show you that she wouldn't keep you here. you could only laugh in response, shaking your head.

"i really don't mind either, if you want, we can even get you another bowl." you answered, watching her eyes light up. a bright smile formed on her face, nodding in agreement.

you smiled back, after all, the festival felt better this way.

[gottagobuycheese]

HEY! YOU!

You've probably heard by now, but from March 4th to 10th 2024, Help Gaza Children will be sending all their donations to families in northern Gaza, where food prices have skyrocketed even more than in the south. Their goal is $25K by the end of the week; at the time of writing this post, it's about halfway a quarter way there! (OG post about it) [EDIT: my mistake, I misinterpreted the numbers in the original post; evidently I cannot do arithmetic anymore]

This is their notion site, which has their donation link as well as additional info, their FAQ, important updates, and proof of purchases from donations they’ve gotten in the past. You can also donate directly to their paypal here.

As such, I'll be open for sketch commissions up from now (March 7th, 2024 ~02:20 PST) through March 10th in exchange for proof of donation to Help Gaza Children!

BASIC OVERVIEW:

Tier 1 - Basic head/bust sketch for $1-5 USD, +50% for basic color. Up to 3 characters.

Tier 2 - Basic screencap resketch for $5-15 USD, +50% for basic color.

Tier 3 - Posed sketch for $15-25 USD, 1-2 characters ONLY.

Tier 4 - Colored clean sketch: $25+ USD, 1-2 characters ONLY.

RULES:

Please provide a visual reference or detailed description of the character(s) you want drawn (and depending on the tier, a screencap or pose/expression you want to go with it)

DO'S: OCs, humans and human-like creatures, other creatures that don't have a lot of mechanical or anatomical detail (as in, I can TRY to do mecha stuff, but I think you and I will both be better of if I don't lol; can ask for further details)

DON'T'S: any NSFW stuff, real people currently alive (as in, historical figures in the setting of historical fiction may be okay, but other things may not be; can ask for further details)

If you've made your donation in a currency that is not USD, I'll give you something of equivalent value according to the tier based on whatever the conversion is at the time that I look it up. If one or both of our economies crashes spectacularly in between the time you send it and the time I look it up, I'm very sorry in advance

DISCLAIMER 1: I reserve the right to decline a commission for any reason; however, if this ends up being the case, I may reach out to you to see if we can come up with a middle ground that suits us both.

DISCLAIMER 2: I don't anticipate being able to do a lot of these, as I've got a full-time job that's in the ballpark ~80+ hours a week with really weird hours. That being said, depending on how far this goes, turnaround time will probably be ~2-3 months, give or take...something. I'll update you monthly until it's done.

FOR PERSONAL, NON-COMMERCIAL USE ONLY!

If you're interested in nabbing a sketch from me in exchange for your donation, email a screenshot (devoid of any personal info please) of your donation receipt and details of your sketch request (e.g. reference, tier, etc.) to gottagobuycheese@gmail.com. For your donation to count for a sketch, it must be made after I wrote this post! (March 7, 2024 ~02:20 A.M. PST)

If you are NOT interested in nabbing a sketch from me, feel free to donate anyway!!

(And if you've got any questions about anything feel free to email, DM, or send an ask!)

[energ00n]

Okay I'm gonna apologize for the piss poor reading compression sight pissing on the poor in your in box fucking constantly. Your art and intentions are actually VERY clear. Like D-16 being an ass on purpose via lying to elita and himself about how much Orion means to him on PURPOSE (there is also the assumption he doesn't know hes crushing yet, which mostly confirmed via that one comic of not knowing he's jealous of Jazz.) - I'm still so fucking flabbergasted people thought this was a misunderstanding some fucking how???? Anyway, thanks for sharing your art of your au regardless of people being dumb. As an artist who's had something get popular, I'd recommend (if you haven't already anyway) to just start blocking people if they continue to hound you about stuff like Bumblebee. (I like Bumblebee a lot, actually, but I hate the Fandoms' most popular versions of him, so hahha, I'm suffering!!) Because you've done so many warnings and asks for people to stop at this point. It might seem petty, but remember to put your own enjoyment first and for most. Anyway, I hope you have a good day/week (^-^)/

Oh your words been comforting me for a bit thank you very much

I like a certain subtlety in my work, but when it’s the very intentional thing getting misinterpreted it sort of makes me question my ability to do storytelling. It’s one of the reasons I get sooo agitated when i get asks that are just ??? The very obvious or an interpretation so wrong I don’t know what mistake I made for that to happen. I don’t want to write things outright, spoon feed information that would be more tasteful as implications and conclusions followers come up with themselves

Sorry for the little vent, I know they’re just asks from curious fans and I should be more kind but I just came out of smt irl and I burned my patient there

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine helping Crocodile discover a new way to use his devil fruit, part 2

I've decided that I'm going to do a fic for this, instead of an imagine. I don't know about this one, but I'm posting it anyway.

Also, this an afab reader fic, sorry.

It was late when you left Buggy's party to head home. So late, in fact, that the city had turned off most of the streetlamps. With only every third lamp lit on the main streets, one of Crocodile's brilliant budget cuts left you blindly scurrying between lamps to stay where you could see, cursing as you went. When you finally reached your street you encountered an expanse of broken streetlights leaving you with little choice, but to fumble blindly down the road, with only starlight to guide you. You paused, to give your eyes a moment to adjust and to put on your shoes, before heading off into the darkness.

Only a few steps in, you heard what sounded like sand moving. Without thinking, you called out, "hello?" Your jaw snapped shut when you realized you had just given away your position.

A deep chuckle broke the tense air, it was familiar, "It's quite late for little deers to be out, all by themselves." Suddenly, a bright ember lit up in your periphery, giving you a glance at the man in the dark. A dark cigar with a predatory grin at the other end of the ember, there was no mistaking it.

Crocodile murmured, "I've been looking for you all night."

"Why me?" You asked, taking a step back, even though you knew there was no escaping from him if he really wanted you

"I want to know what else that fucked up little head of yours can come up with." He purred. You flinch as his hand engulfed your neck. The feeling of his sand skittering along your skin made you instinctively go up on your tippy-toes to get away. Sensing your discomfort, his thumb gently caresses your cheek to soothe you. "Easy there, I'm not going to hurt you, yet." Crocodile takes a slow drag off his cigar, the ember glittering in his eyes. He was clearly enjoying the power trip he was getting off on your fear.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and started to ramble off anything you could use sand for. "Water filtration."

"Water is a no-go."

"You could use the technique I previously suggested to make glass. It would be useful for barriers against biochemical attacks, or for stopping up hinges. "

Crocodile hummed, "That would be useful, I'll have to try that later... But ultimately not the thing I'm looking for. "

"What sort of things are you implying?"

"Telling you would deprive me of the pleasure of watching you squirm, so keep trying." He said, tightening his hand around your neck, just enough to make your head spin.

You gasped, "Sand has silica in it, which is bad to breathe in. Uh... I can be used for skin!"

His grip loosened, as he echoed, "for skin?"

"It's used as an exfoliant." You stammered, trying to remain balanced.

"I recall having skinned my knee falling on the beach before I ate my devil fruit." He grumbled.

"You're supposed to add it to lotion or oil. "

"I can use lotion and oil," he chuckled, "I finally have the inspiration I needed. Thank you, little deer, why don't we go try it out." Crocodile released your neck, slid his arm around your shoulders, and guided you down the street.

"What are you doing." You asked, "Where are you taking me?"

The large man pulled you into his side, bemused by your size difference, as he asked, "did I misinterpret the way you look at me when you think I can see you?"

Your eyes flicked up to his, suddenly feeling very embarrassed because you've always taken every opportunity to ogle him in that slutty lil waistcoat of his.

He gave you a feline grin and mused, "I have not misinterpreted anything, have it. I know a hungry look when I see one. So where I'm taking you is to feast at my residence."

Sir Crocodile wasted no time bringing you to his estate, you crossed the threshold, and his grip on you slid from your shoulder to your waist. His hand groped the fat of your hip through the thin material of your shirt, as he led you to his room.

As soon as his bedroom door shut behind him, he removed his coat and gently pushed you face down on the large, plush sheets of his bed. He ordered you not to move a muscle, and you waited patiently, happily taking in the heavy scent of his sheets. You remained there for two minutes, listening to him remove his coat and shoes, he moved to another room for a minute, before coming back and setting several bottles and a large box on the nightstand.

"Up, sit up." He asserted, sliding onto the bed behind you. When you sat up on your knees, one of his large hands pulled you back into his lap. With another hoist and a gasp from you, he had you perched upon the rather prominent bulge in his pants. He had evidently removed his belt and vest well, he sat there in only a crisp button-up shirt and starched slacks.

"Now, why don't we get started with the foreplay?" He chuckled, swapping out his hook for some sort of mobility attachment that allowed him to unbutton his shirt. You leaned against his chest, and looked up at him. The black haired man grinned at the submissive look on your face, and used his now free hand to remove his hook. You watched as his nub and his hand turned into lumps of sand.

"I think the lotion would work quite nicely, don't you?" Crocodile rumbled, depositing several pumps of lotion onto the sand and rubbing them together until it was mixed evenly. The anticipation had caused an ache to grow between your legs. An ache that only grew larger when he shoved his hands under your shirt. You gasped when his fingers pushed up your breasts. The sand was cool at first, but it warmed up the rotation picked up speed.

You reached back and locked hands around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the strands of hair there, as you arched into his touch. Crocodile let you bask in his touch for only a brief moment, before nudging your head in his direction and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His scent, taste, and touch filled your senses. He smelled like whiskey, smoke, honey, and a natural musk, which left you dizzy. A high-pitched sigh left you, reveling in the moment, completely missing that the noise that had left you a moment ago had made the man under you feel absolutely feral. He let you distract yourself by grinding down on him, and nipping at his lips and tongue, while he gathered more sand. He opened the lotion bottle and mixed its contents with his sand before forming several new arms.

Three large hands pried apart your legs, as two hands of swirling sand massaged the meat of your thighs and calves. Two hands gripped your hips, rocking your clothes slit over his bulge, as two more hands groped at your chest. You cried out, only for Crocodile to use a column of sand to pull you back into a kiss. While his hand, of flesh and bone, made its way between your legs.

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

[lunarw0rks]

can you write something about reader using their safe word for the first time with ghost?

getting surprised at how easily he changes from rough sex to sweet aftercare to make sure he's partner is okay

₊ °✦ ‧ ‧ ₊ ˚✧ safe-word // simon riley

warning(s): nsfw + sfw, established relationship, smut/fluff, shower sex, hurt/comfort, gn!reader word count: 1.1k ꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ───have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ˗

You don't know why or when exactly the pleasure turned into pain, but you found yourself in a conflicted frenzy.

Your back pressed against the shower wall, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as Simon thrusted into you at a relentless pace. One of his hands remained glued to your waist, digging into your soft flesh with intensity. His other was behind your head, protecting it from hitting the tile every time you clashed against it with every plunge of his length.

He was usually so attentive, noticing every slight change in your demeanor even outside of intimacy. Sometimes, he's so concerned he'll mistake your moans of pleasure for refusal and stop completely, to your dismay.

However, Simon had yet to stop.

The shower head was too noisy, or perhaps he really lost that side of him whilst being so rough with you. Though, you had heavy doubts about the second hypothetical. Never would he intentionally harm you or continue on when you were so tense.

His touch wasn't comforting anymore, it was suffocating. Every groan into your ear, his thrusts becoming unwelcome by your stressed body.

In his defense, your gasps really could be misinterpreted. "Simon." It sounded like praise instead of a refusal — and your futile protest was drowned by the rain of the shower and bathroom fan. With every fleeting moment, you felt a rumble of discomfort build. Tears fell down your cheeks, spilling down his wet skin while you hid in the crook of his neck. Choked blubbers grew louder as you tried and failed to draw in proper breaths.

Then, came your saving grace. The safe word you had yet to use tonight, or ever with Simon. It was necessary, preferable over taking the unpleasant encounter and feeling horrible for not speaking up. And frankly, it would break Simon if you didn't voice your discomforts; he may never touch you again, and probably would feel as though he really was a cruel man. That man you spent so long convincing him he wasn't.

"Red." You blurted, feeling your lips tremble intensely.

At the speed of light, his ruts ceased. Nothing. Silence, except for the patter of the droplets around the two of you. From grunting to complete and utter silence — yet it was the loudest moment of your life.

Simon pulled back, dropping one of your legs but keeping the other secured around him for stability. Finally, he could get a look at your flushed and troubled expression. The unmistakable expression of distress; one he had only ever seen on you in other contexts. It chilled him to the core and made him feel like a barbarian for not noticing sooner. How long had you writhed? How long had he carried on like an idiot, mistaking your complaints for reciprocation?

"Did I hurt you? Are you hurt?" His series of questions were masked with deep breaths and a widened expression. Your silence made him withdraw from you completely, putting a supportive hand on your warm cheek. "Talk to me, love. Please."

You weren't mute from the pain, nor the fussing on his end. Merely the shock of how much his demeanor changed. From dominance to tenderness at the drop of the hat. Or more so, the utterance of a single word.

Quickly, you shook your head to answer his initial questions, snapping out of your stew. "No, Simon. It's not—" You stammered between reassuring touches, ones he refused to pay attention to until he was sure you were sound. "I just... It was too much, I'm sorry, Si."

Simon's face visibly cringed, hands roaming over your skin, grasping at your wrists with gentle nature. "Don't apologize. This is all on me, alright?" He replied in an alarmed slur, then your face had been pushed against his chest.

His broad chest, arms capable of snapping you in two, now cradling your body as if it was made of glass. Your palms slid up his back, returning that same tenderness to assure him of your safety. It wasn't pain because of his carelessness, nor was it the rough nature. He had done it before with no issue. Tonight's cards just weren't stacked right, bound to tumble from the start.

There was no blame to be had for either of you. Merely a hitch in the evening, and you wanted it treated as such. Though, you knew by now that convincing him of that would be a prolonged, tedious task.

Right now, all you had were reassurances that sounded pathetic amidst your trembles. "It's not your fault." You mumbled against his chest, anxieties put to ease at the caress of his calloused hand up and down the nape of your neck.

He quickly shushed you, pressing his lips to your drenched head of hair. A silent way of urging you to keep your mouth shut — but in his own blunt way.

In the following moments, he let his hands roam and massage the bits of flesh that took the brunt of his force. The indents on your hips, the patch on your shoulder blades irritated from clashing with the shower wall, all of it. The sizzling water was used to figuratively wash away his misjudgments, relaxing the muscles once over-exerted and sore.

Once he turned the knob to stop the water, he tied a towel around his waist, retrieving the fresh one he set out for you while the water was still heating up several minutes ago. Without once making eye contact, he unfolded the linen, then was running it along your dripping skin, drying every last bit to ensure you were comfortable before dressed.

With some silent convincing, you nodded, allowing him to step out and let you hold the towel around yourself. You weren't defenseless because you uttered a safe word, he knew that. But you weren't going to brush this off, either. No chance.

The drawer of your dresser scraped shut when you followed him into the bedroom, revealing your favorite pair of sweatpants. Next, one of his many black tees soon slipped over your fleshly cleaned body. You were no longer suffocated or plagued with unease, nor did you want the release you were craving moments ago. Your only desire was his presence, that safe feeling his existence gave you.

Before you settled on the bed, he cupped your cheeks, pressing his forehead against your own. "Tell me again." Simon pleaded with intense softness.

"I'm alright, Simon. Promise." A futile smile formed, clenching your eyes shut briefly with a defeated nod. You had repeated it a hundred times, it seemed. But you wouldn't take back or fib through any one of them. It was the truth— the reassurance he craved.

Softly, he scoffed at your cheesy proclamation. "Promise it, huh?"

"Promise it."

[mc-lukanette]

Luka arrived home at his usual time, having biked his way there from school. Stopping short of the path next to the Seine due to the stairs leading down to it, he hoisted his bike up and started walking down.

However, his eyes caught something out of the ordinary from the corner of his gaze, causing him to stop and look over. Marinette was there, sitting right at the edge of the path and staring out at the Liberty. The gangplank was already set up, so there really was no need for her to sit there, but Luka supposed that she felt weird about inviting herself in.

He realized just a moment later that it was strange for her to be there at all. He'd biked home, and Marinette's school got out at around the same time that his did. It didn't add up that she'd be there.

But then, Luka finally caught sight of something he would've rather not seen. Marinette's jacket was resting in her lap, meaning that there was extra skin on display around her arms, and...

They were bruised.

In shock, Luka dropped his bike. It was tumbling down the stairs until it crashed at the bottom, but he barely registered it. Marinette, meanwhile, very much did, her head jerking around to look at the source of the noise.

At the sight of him, her eyes became watery. "L-luka."

He saw another bruise, just barely visible but peeking out from under her bangs.

"Marinette," he breathed, abandoning his fallen bicycle to run to her. He knelt down, wanting to grab the undamaged part of her arm to inspect it, but his hand was shaking and he was afraid to do so. "W-what...what happened?! Who did this?!"

She sniffled again and he immediately felt bad. He hadn't meant to sound so angry, but how could he not be? She was hurt, and—

"I-I did..."

All thoughts ceased. Luka met her tearful gaze, asking breathlessly, "W-what?"

"Please don't be mad," she begged. "There—she was going to win. She was going to get away with everything and I just—!"

"Who?" His voice shook, wondering what drove Marinette to do this to herself. "Who was going to get away with what?"

"L-Lila," she replied. "She—she's a liar. She lies to everyone, but they don't take me seriously because they think I'm just jealous that she's around Adrien. She swore that she'd take everyone away from me, and—" She gasped as she held back a sob, shaking her head. "She was trying to get me expelled, I'm sure of it. I don't have any proof, but she framed me for stealing test answers, then she faked me pushing her down a flight of stairs."

"A flight of..." Luka trailed off, staring down at the bruises as puzzle pieces started fitting together in his head.

"She might've even done something else and I just—I couldn't. I couldn't prove anything but I had to do something, so..." She hugged herself, wincing briefly and readjusting her hands when she accidentally hugged at her bruises by mistake. "I asked Mr. Damocles if he'd heard a fight outside, or heard Lila falling. He didn't, but it wasn't enough, so I...I told him I'd prove that wasn't possible if I really pushed Lila."

Luka started to feel sick.

"I didn't care anymore - I just didn't want to let her win again - so I told him to go back into his office and shut the door, then..."

"You—" Luka swallowed down the thick feeling in his throat. "You threw yourself down the stairs...?"

Marinette could only nod, staring down at the ground in shame. "I...I proved it, at least. He heard me falling. Then it hit me how far I had to go just to protect myself, and I...I left. He didn't even stop me, so I guess he was just... in shock..."

Luka didn't know what to say. The mental image of Marinette purposefully hurting herself - feeling like she had to - and how each bruise had formed was horrible. He shuddered, unable to imagine what it was like for her.

"I-I'm sorry," she whimpered, clearly misinterpreting the slew of emotions he was feeling. "I-I didn't want to, I swear! I—I was just—so much was going on, and—"

"Marinette."

She paused. "Y...yes?"

He adjusted his legs accordingly, opening his arms for her. "I don't want to hurt you by hugging you, but if you need it... you can hug me instead."

She didn't move at first, her gaze darting around him and their surroundings in hesitation. Then, the tension broke as relief took over her expression.

She launched herself at him, her arms wrapped around him while he did little more than grip the fabric of her shirt near her hips. His heart ached, wondering how badly her school life must be, or why she'd be so willing to injure herself for the sake of justice, even if it was her own.

Deep down, he knew the answer, even if he didn't quite realize it yet. He didn't want to think about it; the idea that the girl sobbing into his shoulder might be Paris's superheroine.

Because, if it were true, her life would be even worse, and he didn't want to believe that.

—————

Luka finished looking over her bruises, confirming the severity, then sighed. "I can't believe it went this far."

"It might not be over either," Marinette said quietly, memories still replaying themselves in her head and not matching any semblance of a hopeful future. "I...I know I shocked Mr. Damocles, but it won't change anything."

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged halfheartedly. "Lila probably has something else up her sleeve too. This is just a temporary victory. She'll come back, and—"

"What about everyone else?" Luka pressed. "Your friends. They—"

Marinette shook her head. "They all believe her. It doesn't matter what I say. She just lies her way around everything. Adrien told me not to do anything, but I guess she still has it out for—"

"Adrien—" Luka was speechless. "He did what? Told you...? When she was lying to everyone?"

"Yeah. He said that it wouldn't make her a good guy."

"It's not about that!" he argued. "It's about making sure she doesn't keep lying. If he'd just helped you stop her earlier, this wouldn't have..." He trailed off, gritting his teeth at the sight of her bruises.

She hadn't considered that. Adrien had kept protecting Lila, even though Lila was after her. At any time when she was being accused, he could've stood up and told the class that he knew Lila was a liar. It would've been a risk, certainly, but...

I guess his reputation is more important, Marinette thought solemnly.

"If there's any way I can help," Luka began, determined, "just say the word."

"...No," she spoke. "It's...it's not worth it."

"Not—" He bristled.

"N-no no! I mean—" She sighed, rubbing her arm and being careful of the bruise. "What's the point? No one listens to me anyway, I just want Lila to leave me alone and stop getting in the way of my life. I have enough going on as it is!"

He hummed sympathetically at that. He rubbed the back of his neck, staring aimlessly up at the sky as he considered everything. "...Then, do you want to transfer?"

"Transfer?"

He made eye contact again and nodded, his voice more resolute this time. "To another school."

"Oh." The thought never occurred to her. Lila had the class in her clutches, but if she transferred, then she'd at least be left alone. Even if Lila was somehow petty enough to follow her, she could warn the other students in advance, or maybe she'd find friends who were either less likely to believe Lila's lies, more likely to believe Marinette herself, or both. "D-does... could your school even...?"

"I don't know," Luka admitted, "but I'll check. I promise, Marinette; if you want a transfer, then I'll do everything I can to make it happen."

"T-thank you." Then, after a thoughtful pause, she asked, "Can I hug you again, Luka?"

He beamed, already opening his arms for her. She threw herself at him, smiling at the content hum he let out at her touches.

Everything would be alright. She had Luka, and they'd work it out.

[cloudshuffle]

a rose and its thorns. yan!sunday

nobility au

It was supposed to be a pleasant morning.

The maids had awoken you by drawing the curtains, letting in the clean, cheerful morning light. It was bright, but not so, just perfect for spending a day out in the garden.

Aventurine was away for the day, and Sunday told you as such, hands clasped behind his back in the mirror.

"Don't you have to be with him?" you ask. The maid doing your hair keeps her eyes low, feigning disinterest in the conversation. Sunday's eyes flick to her briefly, assessing her presence in the room - a familiar expression you see him wear a million times every day, observing, discarding, or filing away for future use. There's no wonder why he's the prince's most valued asset.

"No." Sunday smiles thinly, his version of wry humour. "My place isn't among the smell of soldiers and mud."

You laugh, and you don't catch the way his amber eyes glint in the sunlight flooding your room.

Dr Ratio was away for the day too - rare, but not unusual.

"He has a lecture to impart in the city library," Sunday says. "Seeing as the prince will be away today, I thought it best to make efficient use of his time and arrange him to be away from the palace today as well."

"So no lessons?"

"No lessons," he concurs. "Will you have your breakfast in the gardens?"

You would, of course. And with a snap of his fingers, servants are scurrying off to do his bidding. Sunday offers a gracious arm, and the two of you make your way downstairs.

"Lucky both the prince and his tutor aren't around today, isn't it? Boothill isn't around either; it's just you and me today."

Your words pierce him - have you caught on? He isn't ready to take you away just yet, and he hasn't quite had his fill of fun. But a glance at you tells him that it's just an off-handed comment.

"Oh, I'm just teasing." You mistake his tension for misinterpretation, and squeeze his arm lightly. "I just hope I'm not too much of a bother."

You? Never. "It is a butler's duty to be bothered by his wards."

You laugh lightly, and it lightens his heavy heart. Just a bit.

He leads you out to a quiet corner of the garden, one furthest away from the driveway and sheltered from the palace’s prying eyes by the old apple tree.

“I know everyone’s supposed to prefer roses,” you’re telling him. “But I do quite enjoy apple blossoms too. They smell so sweet, and they’re nice to wear in your hair.”

Sunday’s fingers twitch. Oh, how lovely it would be to see you with apple blossoms in your hair, to weave them in himself, to be able to bury his face in your hair and inhale your scent mixed with the blossoms. His heart throbs.

But he has to content himself with less. For now.

“I could arrange for the maids to gather some flowers and put them in your hair tomorrow.”

“You would? Whoops.” You wobble in your impractical shoes over a particularly tricky patch of ground, and Sunday’s treated to the warm press of your body against his arm for a brief moment. He thinks he can feel your heartbeat, light as a bird, through the many heavy layers you have on. “I think Ven would like that!”

Ven. The nickname sours his mood, despite your beaming smile.

“Oh, sorry.” Your face falls. “It’s improper to call him by his nickname with other people, isn’t it?”

Sunday forces a polite expression back onto his face. “Not at all. I was simply… caught off guard. I wasn’t aware you were close in that way.”

You blush, faintly. “Well, I suppose we are.”

He’s eternally grateful when the topic turns to other things.

“You should sit.” You pat the table across from you.

“Thank you for offering, but I don’t need to sit.” With his hands behind his back, Sunday surveys the area. Where was that maid who was supposed to bring your breakfast?

“Don’t your legs hurt?” A glance at you reveals a full pout that tugs at his heartstrings. “I always feel bad for you whenever I see you standing all the time.”

He sighs, though he already knows he’d do it because you asked. “I suppose a moment wouldn’t hurt.” Sunday moves to take the chair opposite you.

The maid chooses this moment to make her appearance, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed like she’d just caught wind of some juicy gossip. You seem to chalk it down to the weather, however, and give her a cheerful wave.

This was the maid who did your hair.

Sunday realises this, just as she comes up to the table, trips, and goes sprawling towards you.

You yelp as hot tea and biscuits come flying, but what frightens you more is how quickly Sunday gets to his feet and hauls the maid away from landing straight into your skirts.

“Ow!” you gasp. A few scalding droplets land on your arms - nothing bad, just enough to catch you by surprise.

And there’s a smack, and a tearful exclamation.

Sunday towers over the maid, one of her slender arms gripped tight in his fist. Her other hand cradles her cheek, and she pulls desperately against his hold, both terrified and confused. Fury seems to have lent him a different sort of presence - something that feels almost like the butler’s true self.

“Sunday!” you gasp. When he doesn’t respond, you rest a hand on his arm. “Sunday, please. You’re hurting her.”

He turns to you, and you catch a glimpse of something in his amber eyes, dark and great.

You can’t help but flinch backwards.

His expression returns to some sort of normalcy, and he lets the maid go. She flees without another word, and you get the feeling this is the last time you’ll see her around the palace.

But neither of you are paying any attention to her. And as Sunday takes in your expression, his own dissolves into something akin to panic.

“I… I’m sorry. I really am.” He takes a step toward you. “I lost my composure. Please…”

Don’t be afraid of me. You can hear the words almost as clearly as if he had spoken them. Sunday’s gloved hands, always so steady as he signed important papers, handled the prince’s tea, guided you around the palace, were now trembling ever so slightly.

You take a step back. And the space between you feels like a chasm to him.

[vigilskeep]

can you talk about misinterpretations of wynne and zevran's dynamic??? i'm chewing on your analysis

i think it’s a very basic case of people simply taking what is said at face value, in a way that comes up a lot with your classic zevran misinterpretations and uhhh oversimplifications. zevran and wynne’s banters are full of his classic exaggerated flirtations. all of their banters hinge on this joke and they’re very funny. but i’m always mildly stunned when i see people taking that as... zevran actually literally just being horny AGSHSKKSKS

i don’t think people give zevran enough credit for how clever he is at dancing around the other companions. nobody ever really gets one up on him. i can think of one specific instance in banter where i do think something gets under his skin, which i think oghren of all people manages essentially by accident the one time he’s actually not really trying

anyway: wynne opens their first banter with “you must know that murder is wrong, i assume.” it’s very wynne; she makes a judgement and announces it as fact. zevran is slightly stunned by this and also how funny it is: “i’m sorry... are you speaking to me?” with this incredible disbelieving pause because, like, he’s the party assassin. but he’s also playing for time quickly on how to react to this out of nowhere. wynne then explains the simple narrative she’s constructed that joining the party is due to a crisis of conscience on zevran’s part about being an assassin. and zevran immediately jumps into exaggerated agreement, and once he gets a better idea, the first of his flirtations with her, until she gives up in exasperation. it’s an evasion tactic zevran is very, very good at and has been doing to you, the player, since his first appearance on screen. he wants to play on the characters he performs when they’re useful shields, whether it’s the victim or the flirt or what have you. but also always with that ironic air that he’s clearly doing a bit; there’s the charm of letting you in on a private joke, but also he needs everything to be a faintly ridiculous game to him, so he doesn’t have to be affected

zevran keeps this joke up for the full extent of his banters with wynne through the whole game, because he finds it wildly entertaining, of course, and because he has no interest in ever inviting the conversation she wants. he so badly doesn’t want to deal with her asking this that he decides to run this bit into the GROUND, and starts doing it pre-emptively to ward her off even after she stops trying to instigate the conversation. bc wynne may be a good way off the mark, and, ironically for someone wanting zevran to take this seriously, not able to imagine that his life and feelings may be more complex than assumed (absolutely classic spirit behaviour once again), but she is needling at his reasons for leaving the crows, which is the last thing wants to be honest with anyone about

making the assumption that zevran is flirting with wynne out of genuine interest is, to me, the same mistake as thinking zevran when you first meet the warden is flirting out of genuine interest. this is how he knows to stay alive. if he let his guard down, he’d be dead; if he wasn’t charming, he’d be dead; and if he ever stopped to dwell instead of being the “eternal optimist”, always instinctually grasping at one more chance to live another day, he’d be very, very dead. he’s not going to casually discuss vulnerabilities for someone else’s peace of mind and he definitely doesn’t have the kind of insecurity to need to explain himself to people who don’t know him or what they’re talking about. so, rogue evasion abilities activate! it’s time for him to dodge! which is what he spends the entire series of banters doing. but also he’s just still finding it funny throughout. she just gives him so much ammunition. it’s like taking candy from a baby. zevran loves an old and terrible joke repeated for several months solid, they age like wine to him

i also think wynne’s comments are a light jab at how zevran does get read by players. he’s not ashamed of being an assassin. there’s this great line in one of his dialogues with the warden that asks why he shouldn’t continue to do what he’s good at when so few have come by his skills “honestly”, as he believes he has. there’s a tendency to characterise him and characters like him as, ah, the guilt-ridden victim in need of a pure-hearted saviour to show him the light, etc etc, but that’s never been who he is. there’s no ending where he suddenly quits being an assassin lmao

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hello! Could I please request jealous as hell Donna but with a jealous as hell reader? Like, Donna hides her jealousy because she's scared reader wouldn't like it but then she finds out that reader actually loves it and finds it romantic and is equally jealous over Donna? And her feelings being validated just makes Donna incredibly happy/feral haha, they're a perfect match. Your writing is awesome bless you 🙏🏻

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your request and for your kindness, bless you too ;)! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

Everyone has flaws

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, jealousy

Word count: 5,054

Summary: You know the way she is, but she doesn't know yours...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“Am disturbing you?” you asked in a soft voice as you settled into the brunette's lap.

Donna was working on her dolls, as always.

She looked at you with a tender smile and shook her head, stealing a kiss from you, one of those that said much more than any word.

Starting a relationship was always a difficult step, a series of tests and obstacles that had to be avoided or endured. It was already that way with anyone, but Donna Beneviento, Lord and doll maker, was not just anyone.

Of course, you didn’t regret having taken that step, of approaching that mysterious woman covered with a black veil, that woman who always caught your attention at mass, that woman who always seemed quiet, absent, but who, at the same time, seemed to look at you in the same way.

Asking was daring, the result was extraordinary. Just telling her that you admired her work, that you liked her dolls, was enough for the shy lady in black to invite you to her house, to a tea, and then to another, and another.

Talking about feelings was complicated, telling that sick and dangerous woman that, in some way, you were obsessed with her, was an even riskier move. But luck was on your side, and you left your old, boring life, to live your own love story, a romance you longed for every day, that you dreamed about every night. You couldn't ask for more from the life of a simple village girl.

It could be luck, or it could be that Donna was as crazy about you as you were about her. Coincidence, luck, or a romance from a novel, what you called it didn't matter, the most important thing was to feel it every day, with every kiss, with every word of love, with every caress.

“What are you doing?” you asked curiously, while she dressed a new doll. Donna laughed, focused on her work.

“Putting a new dress on this new friend…” she whispered, not losing her concentration, even with you on her lap, even with you by her side all day, she never lost her focus, well, almost.

“Ohh…” you murmured amused, earning another one of her tender smiles as she shook her head.

“What do you think?” she asked, showing off her new creation, moving you on her lap so you were more comfortable, watching your expressions.

You nodded in approval at that new toy, one that would surely brighten the life of one of the village children, just like when you were one of them.

“Not bad…” you whispered, pretending to observe every detail, every little detail that Donna never overlooked. “Who are you going to sell it to?”

Donna shrugged, picking up the doll again.

“Whoever wants it, I guess,” she said amused, putting the clothes back on that piece of porcelain. “The Duke takes care of that.”

“Taking his share, of course,” you joked, holding on tighter to her body, being held by her soft hands on your waist.

“Money doesn't worry me, (Y/N),” Donna said, with a disinterested tone. “I just like to do it, it reminds me of… better times.”

“Oh, times when you didn't live with a pretty village girl like me, huh?” you said mockingly, putting a finger on her nose, causing another soft laugh from the brunette.

“I didn't mean that, I…” she said nervously, misinterpreting your irony, as usual. You loved that innocence, that way of understanding everything that only Donna could have.

You interrupted her apologies with a kiss, and then another, until a sigh from her lips told you that the fear had passed, that she hadn't made a mistake. Laughter filled the sinister workshop, as did the sound of your rhythmic kisses, deeper and deeper, more and more… intense.

It could have been a perfect morning, one of many, but the screeching sound of the phone interrupted that intimate moment about to turn into a passionate one.

“How timely,” you said, rolling your eyes and getting off her lap, something Donna prevented by pulling you.

“Angie will take care of that, tesoro… Come back here,” she whispered tenderly, returning the sweet taste of her kisses to your lips.

“Mm, I'm not going to complain,” you hissed with a mischievous purr, letting the subtle rocking of your bodies become rhythmic, the temperature rising little by little.

“Hey!” a squeal interrupted again, an annoying, irritating one, Angie. “Again, Donna? How disgusting!”

“Angie…” you sighed annoyed as the lady in black elegantly lowered you to the floor, looking at the doll with curiosity.

“Che vuoli? Sono occupata,” the brunette said, fixing the hair you messed up with your caresses.

“One day we have to talk about how busy you are since that stupid girl lives with us. I feel neglected,” the doll protested, comically crossing her arms.

“The stupid girl is here, in case you hadn't noticed,” you said, with an ironic tone, the one you always used with the irreverent puppet.

“Of course I noticed, that's why I'm saying it. What's the point of insulting you if you're not there to hear it?”

You laughed with your eyes half closed.

“I guess that's a good point,” you sighed, letting yourself fall into a nearby chair.

“You can't handle my expert verbalization, loser,” the doll mocked again.

“Angie...” Donna sighed, fed up with the little fights between you and her partner, fights that, always, were just a joke. “Enough…”

“Leave her alone, she seems to be having fun,” you joked, kissing Donna on the cheek, only to elicit an angry growl from the doll.

“You Donna-stealer!” Angie protested. “Get away from her and pick up the phone,” she said, comically pushing you away as you tried to kiss her owner again. You raised your eyebrows.

“The phone? Oh, that’s right,” you said with a hand on your forehead, pretending not to remember.

“Who is it, Angie?” Donna asked confused by the doll’s words. The doll simply shrugged.

“A friend of the fool,” Angie explained, pointing at you unpleasantly.

“A friend?” Donna asked, with a slightly more serious look, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

“That’s what he said, he wanted to talk to the fool,” Angie repeated. You snorted with a smile and walked out of the workshop, leaving a confused Donna behind you.

“Hello?” you asked as you picked up the phone, feeling a chill from being alone in that dark basement.

“Oh, um, yes, um, in life, and in death, we give glory…”

“Shut up, you commoner! How dare you to disturb me?” you said, darkening your voice, exaggeratedly faking the brunette's accent.

“I, I'm sorry, Lady, Lady Beneviento… I… I…” the boy said, frightened. You covered the phone, holding back your laughter at that practical joke.

“You will pay for your insolence,” you threatened, with that same dark voice. “You have disturbed me and I’m very angry. I’m pinching and shaking my hands because I’m angry,” you joked, making the gesture with your hand.

“No, no! Please, have, have mercy… Please…” your friend begged. Poor thing, it was time to enjoy your victory.

You laughed loudly through the phone and the boy sighed.

“(Y/N)…” he told you, relieved but annoyed by your usual jokes. “Don't do that, one day I'm going to have a heart attack.”

“I can't help it, it's very funny,” you said, still laughing, relaxing your breathing and speaking in a normal tone. “Do you want something?”

“I don't know, I'm thinking about it now… Damn, why did you have to get together with her? She's… Terrifying,” he protested, laughing amused.

“Because I love her, and believe me, she's not that scary,” you said in a calmer tone. “Irina in the morning produces more nightmares than poor Donna.”

“Poor Donna? You're hopeless,” the young man laughed.

“You know me,” you said, sighing, looking around. “What do you want? I'm quite busy right now.”

“Oh, sure, I was calling you because this afternoon we're going to the lake. Maybe you'd like to come,” he commented, to which you nodded interested.

“Mm, friends plan at the lake…” you said amused, pretending to think about it. “Sounds good, I’m in.”

“See you, (Y/N),” the boy said before you hung up the phone.

You walked back to the workshop, slowing down to listen to a curious conversation between Donna and her doll.

“But… what did he sound like?” the brunette asked, questioning poor Angie. “Was he really a friend?”

“He was a dumb boy, he almost peed himself when I yelled at him,” Angie said disinterestedly, pretending to whisper.

“A boy? Are you sure?” the lady asked, in a nervous tone.

“Either a boy, or the world champion of dark voices,” the doll joked. “Don't ask me any more questions, Donna, I've told you everything I know.”

“But, but…” the lady stammered.

“Shh, the silly girl is coming,” Angie whispered, just before you entered the workshop again.

“Ok, that's it…” you sighed with a smile, clapping your hands together. “Angie, go away.”

“Kick me out if you dare, you filthy commoner…” the doll said, comically moving her fists.

“Then stay,” you growled, returning to the brunette's lap, wrapping your hands around her neck. “Enjoy the views, you kind of doll with a voyeur kink.”

“Wait,” Donna interrupted, just when you were ready to continue with your kisses. “Who…? Who was it?”

You blinked, snorting, knowing that there would be no way to continue with your actions.

“A friend,” you said simply, getting off again and sitting next to her, playing with porcelain arms, scattered across the table.

“What friend?” she asked abruptly, staring at you, with a serious, worried face. It was strange to see her like that, she seemed angry.

“Well…” you sighed, speaking carefully, as the trembling of her hands betrayed her nervousness. “Dino, my friend… I think you already know him.”

“No, I don’t,” Donna whispered, looking at you intently, searching for something in your gaze, something you didn’t know what it was.

“No? Well, nevermind,” you said passively, playing with those scattered and discarded arms. “Hey, can you give me a hand?” you joked, extending a porcelain limb towards the lady, who didn’t flinch. “Hey, you usually find my nonsense funny.”

“What did that friend of yours want?” she asked, taking the arm out of your hands, nervously. “I don’t like people calling home.”

“Well, yeah, but… It’s the only way they have to contact me,” you said, with a more deflated tone, with the smile already gone from your face. “He just wanted to invite me to the lake this afternoon.”

“To the lake,” she said, blinking incredulously. “What for?”

“To kill huge monsters with a boat and a harpoon,” you said mockingly. “What do you think? To spend the afternoon, nothing you have to worry about, Don... Donna?”

The brunette trembled nervously, with a dark gleam in her eye, avoiding looking at you directly, as if she were controlling her own anger, an irrational one.

“This, this afternoon I wanted, I wanted... To spend it with you, (Y/N),” she said stuttering, thus evidencing her nervousness.

“I spend every afternoon with you, my love,” you said in a soft voice, taking one of her trembling hands, preventing her from clenching her fists too tightly.

“Donna, Donna, danger, danger...” Angie said, tugging at the lady's black dress. Donna seemed to be on the verge of losing control. “Remember what we talked about.”

“Hey, hey, honey, honey…” you said worriedly, getting up from the chair and grabbing her shoulders, studying her erratic expressions. “Donna, my love, calm down… Do you… Do you have a crisis?”

She shook her head, unable to seem sincere.

“Oh, hey, if that I go worries you, I'll call him right now and…” you said carefully, thinking that was what worrying her. She shook her head again, closing her eye to calm down.

“No, it doesn't worry me,” she sighed, being calmed by your soft caresses.

“Mm, you're such a bad liar,” you joked, lifting her chin. “Do you want a glass of water?”

Donna nodded, turning her face away from your caresses. You sighed with a sad look, sad for not controlling her problems, because the shadows of her mind were always lurking.

“That's it, slow down, don't choke,” you said, giving her a drink. She seemed a bit calmer, with Angie replacing your support.

“You, you should go with your friends, (Y/N), it's what a girl like you should do,” Donna whispered, with a calmer voice, with the trembling of her hands increasingly controlled.

“Are you sure? I don't mind staying. You know I love being with you, Donna,” you said softly, kissing her slowly. She, with an exaggerated smile, nodded, returning the kiss.

At least that crisis could be fixed soon.

Donna had an infinite number of virtues, but many flaws too. Her repressed possessiveness was often a cause for concern. You knew she was jealous, terribly jealous, but she always insisted on lying, on hiding her true feelings. Yes, it could be a flaw but, in fact, you didn’t see it as such.

That voracious need to always have you by her side, to growl or snort at anyone who came too close, was even exciting, romantic to you. But Donna was still Donna, she would never admit to feeling inhibited by the irrational fear of losing you. It was something she tried to hide with all her might.

Luckily for you, and unfortunately for her, Lady Beneviento was not skilled in human relationships. She didn’t know how to hide her feelings.

Actually, that was not a bad thing either. If it had been the other way, you would never have been able to kiss her, you would continue with your boring life as a villager.

The afternoon at the lake was funny, it really was. From time to time you liked to leave that dark mansion and remember you had friends, that you would always have them. When you returned home, you wondered what absurd strategy Donna had in mind, how she would attack, what way she would use to find out even the smallest detail of that outing with friends.

“Hi, hi…” you said amused, opening the door, finding an erratic Donna walking from side to side down the hall, waiting for you impatiently.

“(Y/N)… Finally,” she sighed, throwing herself into your arms, covering you with tireless kisses that you laughed at, trying to breathe. It was the expected reaction, after all.

“Hey, hey, come on…” you sighed, gently pushing her away. “I haven't been away for three days.”

“It seemed like it…” she said, looking at you sadly. “It's been an eternity for me …”

“How exaggerated,” you joked, kissing her quickly and entering the living room, letting yourself fall on the sofa.

Donna followed you, nervously playing with her hands, closely followed by the doll.

“Did… did you have a good time?” she asked, sitting next to you, surely dying to ask many things.

You nodded with a bright smile.

“Yes, it was good,” you said passively.

“Do you want, do you want to have something for dinner, tesoro?” Donna asked, with a fake smile, holding her sweaty hands so they wouldn't move on their own. “I've prepared your favorite food for you… Just in case you came home hungry…”

“Ufff, I'm not hungry at all, honey,” you said, rubbing your stomach comically. “Irina has prepared so many sandwiches that I think I don't have blood anymore, but bread crumbs,” you joked.

Donna felt disappointed by your answer, looking at you with a dark glint in her eye.

“Who is Irina?” she asked in a different tone, getting a little closer, studying your gestures.

“A friend, the baker's daughter, I think you know her,” you said casually. She hardened her gaze, nodding briefly.

“She's such a beautiful girl,” she whispered in a voice that betrayed a lament, something that made you frown.

“She's not bad, but she wears too much makeup,” you joked, wanting to be funny, failing again. Donna moved, looking away.

“I see…” she murmured, clearing her throat, starting to shake again.

“It's not that bad but… Those sandwiches… They're out of this world. You should stop by her store one day and…”

“Maybe I should,” she said with a proud tone, crossing her arms. “I think she'd look pretty with her insides out, don't you?”

You opened your eyes with a confused smile at that terrible threat, tilting your head in an exaggerated gesture of disgust.

“Donna, that was… Terrifying,” you whispered, amused and scared at the same time.

“Donna, Donna…” Angie interrupted, tugging at her dress again. “Not threats… You're going to scare her,” she whispered, failing in her attempt at being confident. You frowned.

“Do you like how she cooks?” Donna asked, with a calmer tone but the same resentment in her voice. “Does she cook better than me? Do you prefer to eat what she makes?”

“What? Donna…” you said sighing, rolling your eyes. No matter how much she tried to hide it, her jealousy always came to light. “No one cooks better than you.”

“That's what you say now,” she grumbled, pushing away the hand that wanted to caress her. “You know what? If you're going to be talking about how wonderful that cagna is, I'm going to bed.”

“I didn't say she's wonderful, I just…” you said confused, watching the lady get up from the couch, quickly followed by you. “Hey, Donna, wait, hey…”

“Lasciami stare,” she hissed, pulling your hand away from her wrist, growling angrily.

“Don't be jealous, come on…” you whispered with a tender smile, blinking smugly, your heart beating for that dark side you liked so much. “Come here, honey, let me show you how much I love you… Come on, please.”

“Vaffanculo,” she hissed again, turning and disappearing from your sight, leaving you glued to the floor.

“Wow…” you sighed, shaking your head. “What did she say to me?” you asked Angie, who shook her head with a wooden hand on her forehead.

“She said: Fuck you!” the doll said, running after its owner. “Donna, Donna, wait, wait! You're screwing it up again!”

You pointed at yourself, incredulous at such an inappropriate word and frowned.

You had to wait a while to go down to the bedroom as well, letting that jealousy you loved so much fade over time.

“Hey, Donna…” you whispered, joining her on the bed. She groaned, turning her back to you. “Are you feeling better?”

“I'm fine,” she whispered.

“Okay…” you said, rolling your eyes and snuggling up to her. “You have no reason to be jealous, my love.”

“What?” she asked, feigning surprise. “I'm not jealous.”

“Yeah, sure you’re not,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Donna…”

“I just, I just care about you,” she corrected, turning on the light and sitting up in bed. “What if stupida had poisoned the sandwiches?”

“What are you talking about?” you asked amused. “Why would she do that?”

Donna shrugged, with a proud pose.

“Being with me puts you in danger, (Y/N)… Don't forget that,” she whispered, cupping your face in her hands, gently pulling it to kiss you.

“Oh, so that was it, huh?” you asked amused, with a mocking smile. “It wasn't jealousy.”

“It wasn’t,” she answered dryly.

“It wasn’t,” you repeated. “Nothing to do with jealousy.”

“Niente”

“Okay… Okay… Good night, Donna,” you sighed, kissing her cheek, laughing internally at her fear of acknowledging her true concerns.

At least the next day was a normal one, well, almost normal. It was the day of the monthly visit to the castle, one that didn't make you particularly happy, but that you would have to endure so Donna wouldn't worry about leaving you alone at home. You didn't want any more absurd arguments, no matter how romantic their intentions were.

“Tea?” the lady of the castle, Alcina Dimitrescu asked, with her always kind, but impossibly seductive smile.

“Sure, thank you,” you said, sighing, wanting to end this little meeting as soon as possible. You didn't know why Donna insisted on going every month. She barely spoke.

“Have you heard what happened in the village?” the lady in white asked, serving some steaming tea to her sister. Donna shook her head. “It seems that someone has been destroying the bakery tonight. Apparently that poor girl had a panic attack.”

You turned your head towards Donna, widening your eyes accusingly. The lady in black moved into a defensive position.

“That way she'll learn…” Angie whispered, sitting next to you.

“What do you mean, dear?” Alcina asked, looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

“Donna…” you whispered, nudging the brunette.

“It wasn't me,” she murmured behind her black veil, in a childishly comical way.

“Yeah, sure,” you said amused.

“Did I miss something, ladies?” Alcina asked, laughing amused.

“No,” you, Donna, and Angie answered in unison.

An unpleasant buzzing sound reached your ears. Oh, of course, they couldn't be missing.

Dimitrescu's three daughters materialized with sinister laughter, to Angie's delight.

“Donna, Donna, did you bring it?” one of them asked, Bela, leaning on the couch shamelessly, close, too close to Donna. You shifted uncomfortably.

The lady in black nodded, handing her a bag with a black cape inside, which the young vampire showed off with a gasp of approval.

“It's great!” she squealed, admiring her new possession. You frowned. Unintentionally, your hands began to tremble. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Bela shouted again, throwing herself at the brunette and kissing her effusively on the cheek, through her black veil.

You began to feel uncomfortable at this unexpected affection. Normally no one got so close to Donna, everyone feared her. You should have assumed that this was not the case with the Dimitrescu family, but seeing such exaggerated displays of affection for yourself stirred your feelings a bit.

“Bela, leave her alone, don't overwhelm her,” Alcina said, gesturing towards her daughter, who smiled pleased, hugging Donna from behind and rubbing her head against hers.

“I'm just grateful,” the young woman protested. “You are the best, Donna, the best,” she said, shaking her again, kissing her for the last time, dislodging her veil.

You, kindly, wanting Dimitrescu to move away, reached out your hand to arrange the black cloth properly. But Bela stepped forward again, placing the doll maker's veil with a concentrated look, something that only you could do, that only you had the right to do.

Your fists clenched in your dress unconsciously and your gaze darkened. The shadow of jealousy had not yet appeared to torment you, you thought it never would.

“Mm, done,” the vampire whispered, finally moving away from your girlfriend, an occasion that you took advantage of to get a little closer to Donna and kiss her unexpectedly where her lips were, also on the black fabric.

“Oh, I see so much affection,” Alcina joked, laughing amused by your attitude. Donna stammered something incomprehensible, nervous about that stolen and indiscreet kiss.

“(Y/N)…” she whispered scared, embarrassed by such a strange act.

“Hey, you, whatever your name is!” Bela said, pointing at you unpleasantly.

“My name is (Y/N),” you growled. You should know what they were like, you knew them, but on that occasion, an irrational hatred ran through your veins.

“Whatever,” she said, pulling your hand away from the couch. You, seeing it as an attempt to separate you from Donna, pulled away from her grip, sitting back down with your arms crossed.

“Don't you want to play? The maids have taught us a new game,” another of the sisters, Daniela said.

You shook your head, leaning on Donna's shoulder, taking her arm so she would surround your body.

“I'm fine here, thank you.”

It was a somewhat strange afternoon. In your mind you could only see Bela Dimitrescu's gestures of affection, Donna's passivity towards them. She spoke to you as you walked through the forest, but you didn't listen to her, you could only hear the vampire's mocking laughter.

“What do you want for dinner, tesoro?” Donna asked, closing the door and getting rid of the veil, with an innocent smile.

“I don't know,” you said with a brusque, spiteful tone, one that Donna didn't seem to notice. “What do you want for dinner?”

“I asked first,” she said with a sweet voice, gently grabbing your waist, kissing you affectionately among soft and shy laughs.

“Release me,” you said dryly, pushing those tender kisses away from your face, pushing her by the shoulders. “Do you feel like cuddles?”

Donna looked at you surprised, with her eye wide open due to your rejection.

“Well, I…” she murmured confused, with an embarrassed smile.

“What a coincidence, huh? We come back from the castle and you get tender…” you said in a cold tone, shaking your head.

She remained thoughtful, looking for a reason for your attitude, one that she couldn't find, of course.

“I, I want to make love, (Y/N)…” she said in a discreet whisper, trying not to let those words reach Angie's ears.

“Oh, do you want to do it now? Right now?” you asked with a mocking smile, narrowing your eyes.

“Yes, well…” she said, shaking her head, confused. “If, if you don't want it, I'll…”

“I don't want it,” you snapped, huffing. “I'm hungry.”

“Fi, fine…” she said, looking at you cautiously, searching for something strange in your gaze, something that didn't fit with your normal behavior. “Tell, tell me, what do you want me to do for you?”

“I don't know…” you murmured, controlling your anger, that sea of ​​jealousy that flooded your rational thought. “Something that fits well with white wine.”

“White wine?” Donna asked, searching for an idea in her mind. “I think, I think we don't have any. But red wine will do.”

“Of course, of course... You love red wine, don't you?” you asked, furious again, erratic. She shook her head, taking a few steps back.

“Yes, I, I like it,” she answered fearfully.

“Red, red as blood, right?” you mocked.

“Te, tesoro, what's going on? Have I done something wrong?” she asked, searching for your trembling hand, calming it with hers, with a pleading look.

“I don't know, have you?” you asked, sighing, controlling your anger, that jealousy you felt. “Really, Donna? A new cloak for the fly girl?”

“Cosa?” she asked surprised. “What, what are you talking about?”

“Bela Dimitrescu, that's what I'm talking about,” you confessed, turning your back on her. “Why do you have to make her a new cloak? Can't one of her hundreds of maids make it for her?”

“Um, well, she, she likes the clothes I make,” Donna explained, running a hand over the back of her neck, not being able to help but feel somewhat proud.

“She likes a lot of things about you…” you hissed, turning on your heels, with a crazy look. “Giving you kisses, for example.”

“Oh, well, you know they are that effusive,” she said with an innocent smile, approaching cautiously.

“And you love it, don't you?” you asked ironically, leaning threateningly over her. The lady in black looked at her doll, who shrugged, unable to explain your attitude.

“No, no, I… Amore mio, what's wrong?” she asked, confused and a  bit intimidated by your unusual attitude.

“Look, I thought I wouldn't have to tell you this but... I'm sorry, I'm very jealous,” you finally said, looking away. “I'm jealous to death, I'm dying of jealousy. I can't stand it.”

“Y-You? Jealous?” the lady in black asked, surprised, frowning. “But, but...”

“What?” you snapped, pointing at Donna with your finger, making her back off again. “Of course, I can't be jealous, right? You can make a poor girl hallucinate because she cooks well, but I can't be jealous...”

“But, but...” the doll maker murmured, backing away while you chased her around the living room in a comical way.

“Yes, I am, I'm terribly jealous, I can't stand anyone laying a finger on what's mine, do you understand? Nobody can do that,” you said, poking the brunette with a finger on her chest.

“I, I didn't mean to...” she explained, shaking her head, grabbing your wrist with a nervous smile. “You, you don't have to worry, I'm only yours, you know that.”

“Oh, why does that sound familiar...” you murmured amused. “Don't be confused, Donna, and stop pretending, I know you're jealous even of the air I breathe, and do you know why I know? Because I feel the same.”

“I don't...” she said, closing her eye, controlling her breathing. “Okay, okay, yes, I... I can't stand the idea that someone, someone...”

“Mm,” you murmured, putting your hands on either side of your hips. “Well, at least you admit it.”

“I didn't want to admit it! That, that's not right, I... I didn't want to... Scare you,” Donna said, nervous, confused and hurt by having to admit her biggest flaw, one that you didn't even consider as such.

“The only thing that scares me, Donna...” you said with the softest voice, moved by those words, by the romanticism they evoked for you, the smile they formed on your face. “... Is that you might find someone better than me.”

“I fear the same,” the lady whispered, approaching you, bringing her hands to your waist again, brushing her lips with yours. “I'm terrified, tesoro... I don't want to lose you.”

“I don't want to lose you either,” you whispered, melting into her in a passionate, wild, even furious kiss. “I think the Duke have some insecticides, doesn't he?”

Donna laughed, shaking her head, kissing your neck mockingly.

“There's nothing you should worry about…” she whispered in your ear, caressing your cheek. “You're my first, and my only love. I love you, I love you so much…”

“Donna,” you said blushing, with a silly smile, hugging her to end that stupid argument. “You're very tempting, you know?”

“Do you really think so?” she asked amused, playing with your hands.

You nodded, kissing her again.

“Cheesy fools” Angie said, interrupting, as always.

“Hey, Angie,” you said amused, without letting the brunette go. “Look, we're just as jealous, what do you think?”

“Yes, yes, you make a great couple… You're just as crazy…”

[badaziraphaletakes]

these people do not understand abuse. y’all abuse is NOT making mistakes. either they have never been in an abusive relationship or have awful media comprehension skills. I watched the entire show with my mom (who is a licensed psychologist and has worked with abusive relationships since the start of her career) and we analysed the show (because she was also an English teacher) and that never came up. what are these people on

Oh, my goodness, thank you so much for sharing, @z1ish ! I am so happy to hear that a psychologist is saying the same thing we've been saying! :))))

So, then, let's get into it...

I sure as hell hope that somewhere deep down OP realizes Aziraphale isn't actually ab*sive and that they are just grasping at straws, because otherwise they should know perfectly well that there WOULD be no way for the writers to make it all come out right in the end with Aziracrow together. If you think Aziraphale is ab*sive (or whatever TF "borders on ab*sive" is supposed to mean, which, by the way, that's a whole thing in itself - ab*se is ab*se, period, and the suffering of victims is degraded by that kind of language, so if you're trying to say it's ab*sive, then you need to either piss or get off the pot) you shouldn't ship Aziracrow, and - I'm just gonna come right out and say this - you shouldn't be supporting this show in the first place, because this show ships Aziracrow.

If I thought for one SECOND that this show was glorifying an ab*sive relationship, underscoring it with beautiful music and pretty lighting and yada yada, then no power in heaven or hell could make me support it or give it one cent of my time or money. This is doubly so since we know that the couple is going to end up together and it's going to be portrayed as a good thing.

And frankly, I profoundly resent people misinterpreting my perspective on Good Omens as that. Not to mention it's the rankest hypocrisy for that to be coming (as I can only assume it is) from the subset of the fandom that is hell-bent (heh) on minimizing, if not outright denying, Heaven's ab*se of Aziraphale.

Also, the phrase "it's what victims tell themselves so they 'can' rationalize away the bad behavior" is highly, highly problematic. It veers veeery close to implying that the problem is with the victims who think that way - that victims are somehow enabling themselves to remain victims (when I hope we all know the problem is with OTHER PEOPLE - the ab*sers, the enablers in their circle, the broader society - who tell them things like that to try to keep them imprisoned. If we're going to make judgmental statements like "they're rationalizing away the bad behavior", we should make them about the ab*sers, not the victims).

Finally: I got slight vibes of "I stopped thinking about my ab*ser this way, so you should too!" from OP. That bothers me a LOT.

Many victims can't leave. For such people, thinking that way about their ab*ser is often a survival mechanism. A way to keep going. After all, if you allowed yourself to think about how horrible things really were, it would destroy you. It's not always about "rationalizing away bad behavior". Again I say, WE CANNOT CRITICIZE VICTIMS FOR HOW THEY THINK ABOUT THEIR AB*SERS. IT'S NOT OKAY!

To any victims out there who aren't able to leave: I hope and pray that someday you get to be free and safe. Until then, think whatever you need to to get by. I'll never judge you for it.

Whew. Sorry this got dark. But OP is playing with fire here. This one really, really pissed me off.

(EDITED TO ADD: This one is from before the NG thing broke. Yes, we really are that behind on our backlog, lol.)

[justcallmemrslupin]

On Mischaracterization, Misinterpretation, and the Remus I Know

A reflection on ATYD, fanon, and the erasure of Remus Lupin's true character

Once again, I had to explain to some kids on TikTok why so many people say that ATYD mischaracterizes and flattens not only the Marauders but all the characters. They argue that they were totally on character. I'm sorry, but no. They were absolutely not.

Look, I get the appeal. I do. That fic is long, immersive, and for many people, it was their introduction to the Marauders Era. But here's the thing: loving something doesn't mean it's accurate. And in the case of that and the broader Marauders fandom, the character of Remus Lupin has been so deeply mischaracterized that sometimes I wonder if people are talking about the same man who walked through Prisoner of Azkaban.

Remus Lupin, in canon, is not angry. He is not aggressive. He is not a brooding romantic antihero. He is a quiet, self-controlled man. Maybe the most self-contained character in the entire series. Why? Because he has to be. He grew up internalizing shame, stigma, and the constant pressure to be the safest version of himself for the sake of others. That’s not a man who yells. That’s a man who apologizes when others yell at him.

The real Remus doesn’t push back at his friends — not because he’s passive, but because he’s afraid. He fears losing what little acceptance he's been granted. As JKR herself said: his greatest flaw is that he cut his friends too much slack. (A flaw that has been rewritten in ATYD and many fics as him being the only one to hold the others accountable. Romantic? Sure. Canon? Not even close.)

And he would never, ever, EVER be a drug dealer!!! Ever!

And about Sirius? The dynamic between Sirius and Remus in canon is not romantic. It’s familial, fraternal, chaotic, and sometimes even dismissive — particularly on Sirius’s end. Remus often seems exasperated by him. Sirius treats him like the quiet one in the group who can be overlooked or overruled. That's not enemies-to-lovers. That’s a loud younger brother setting off fireworks while the older one mutters, “Please don’t get us arrested.”

The Ship Which Must Not Be Named (W*lfstar), as widely written, isn't just headcanon: it's a complete rewrite! It flattens Remus into a tortured romantic who speaks in poetry, and turns Sirius into a devoted domestic partner, when canonically he’s reckless, self-destructive, and deeply emotionally stunted after twelve years in Azkaban.

And let’s not even get into how ATYD strips away the most important parts of Remus’s background (loving parents, a modest home life shaped by guilt and kindness) and replaces it with tropes designed to make him grittier, edgier, and ultimately not Remus.

I’m not here to yuck anyone’s yum. Ship what you want. Write what brings you joy. I do it too. But please, don’t mistake well-written fanon for actual canon. And don’t tell me that ATYD “got Remus right” when it turned a deeply complex, painfully self-effacing, gentle man into something unrecognizable.

For some of us (especially those of us who are neurodivergent, who grew up afraid of being a burden, who learned to monitor every word and step in order to be accepted) Remus Lupin isn’t a romantic template. He’s a mirror. And when fandom warps him into someone louder, angrier, or more palatable, it feels like watching a quiet truth being drowned out by someone else’s fantasy.

I knew Remus before fanon. I loved him then. And I still love him now. As he was written, imperfections, and scars, and silence and all.

[charmac]

How are you feeling about S17? I'm getting reaaal worried that it's going to be terrible. No Glenn in the writers room? A crossover episode?? Rob's gradual transformation into pondslime??? Help

Pondslime 😭Lmfao

I'm feeling more than fine about 17, really truly. I don't think anyone should be worried at all.

I think sometimes my interactions with Glenn come off a little more serious or abrasive than they really happened in real life (because we have to shout due to how loud it is in the bars), and my immediate transcription is just to get people *information*, which really doesn't convey tone.

For example, reporting that Glenn said "you don't want to know" in response to me asking for any teasers (as to plots this season) was met with a lot of "oh so this season is gonna suck" on Twitter, and that could not be further than the truth (sorry to the people I split-react blocked for saying that lol). In hindsight I get the reaction, because written out it's a response that can be easily misinterpreted and reads as potentially concerning, but know that when Glenn said "you don't want to know" he looked like this:

And when I was genuinely just asking for script information (regarding writers of individual scripts after he mentioned they had broken already) and mentioned Nina (Inflates) and Ross (DTAMHD), he gushed about both of them and then said, transcribed word for word, "It's been a good room, I'll say this it's been a great room. It's been an all-star room, it's been...like, breaking the stories this year has been really fun. [Me: Yeah?] Yeah. [That's great, that is great to hear.] It's been really fun."

So the idea of "no Glenn in the writers room" is really much more akin to Season 16 than 13/14. He was there to break stories (meaning he was in the room when they were brainstorming plot ideas and when they settled on which plots would be turned into scripts) but Rob and Charlie are taking the brunt of writing their (RCG's) scripts because of Sirens. This is the same thing that happened with The Gang Goes Bowling. Glenn's name is on the script, but Rob and Charlie wrote the majority of it while Glenn was shooting Blackberry. (I remember originally being convinced it was a mistake Glenn was listed as a writer for Bowling, lmfao). And Glenn is definitely still contributing, will be on revisions for the non-RCG scripts, and will classically change or improv whatever he thinks is best for Dennis when he's on set (see: the Risk E. Rats script).

Also, I know the crossover is concerning to a lot of people just given the nature of it, but as of what we know right now it's only on Abbott, so it's really just as if this season's The Gang Cracks the Liberty Bell or The Janitor Always Mops Twice took place on a different show instead of ours...

I promise promise promise Glenn was clearly holding his tongue for good things coming up, and Friday night very much restored my confidence that Season 17 will be good. (But..if you don't think Glenn has good contributions to Sunny or understands the agenda, then sorry this response probably sucks lmfao)

[witch-hazels-musings]

Hello there, can I have a divination ritual with zhongli including ginseng, lavender, and black tourmaline? Thank you

Ginsing (communication, guidance), Lavender (Comfort, calm), Black Tourmaline (safety, shielding) Zhongli x gn reader | Divination Ritual warning: reader crying (readers mother is deceased (I make a mention of this in the story), Zhongli comforting and very wise (hurt/comfort)

You slid the box onto the shelf, repeating this process until the crate at your feet was empty. You hoped the repetitive actions would stall the emotions threatening to spill from your eyes but it seemed the movement refused to quiet the thoughts in your head.

How stupid are you? Can you not read?

You bit your lip, stalled, and tried to breathe.

I don't want to talk to you anymore! Get out of my sight!

You crouched, slid the empty crate to the side, and grabbed another one but instead of continuing your work, you curled your arms around your bent legs and let your weary head rest against them. Before you knew it, involuntary tears stained your clothes.

Muffled voices slipped in from beneath the storage room door. You swore one of them said your name so you covered your head to hide. Of course, they were talking about you. You messed up by mislabeling the container that held someone's beloved and their requests for the final ceremony. Mistakes like these were worthy of discussions in secluded places of the Funeral Parlor.

Perhaps it was better for you to go home.

---

"Ah, there you are." You turned and saw one of the attendants making their way down the hall. Their hands held out toward the items in yours. "Master Zhongli would like to speak with you."

Fear rose in your eyes. "W-what for?"

"I'm not sure. I was sent to find you." They waved to you to give them the containers in your hand but were already transferring them before you could respond. "I did ask but - It'll be okay. I've never heard him yell at anyone before."

"Wanna bet I'll be the first?"

They chuckled but it was a pittying sound. When they had taken your load, they jutted their head down the hall and sent you off with good tidings.

---

You stood in front of the door, palms sweaty, heart pounding. Your hand hovered over the wood, prepared to knock but not brave enough to follow through.

Taking in a deep breath, you let your knuckles rap against the hardwood.

"You may enter," Zhongli said and you willed yourself to do so.

His office smelled of rich incense, warmth, and spices. The sun spilled through the large circular window dawned in ornamental gold. It made a perfect target for you to stand in while you bowed deeply before his desk.

"You asked for me?"

"I did. Please, have a seat." Zhongli rose from his chair and gestured to a pair of lavish ones near the window, just out of reach of the sun but near enough to take in the view of Liyue Harbor. "I will make us some tea," he said calmly, a gentle smile in his voice.

You hesitated but did as he requested. "Does it matter which one?"

"It does not," he added with a calm nod, his deft hands laboring over small extravagant dishes full of expensive teas. You knew where the cheap ones were held, and these were not those.

Great, he's totally going to let me go, you thought.

Zhongli placed the tea tray on the table. He moved with a grace you'd only seen from performers on stage. This wasn't the first time you'd spoken with him privately, but even if this was a more lively event, you'd still be trembling like a wet cat.

"You are nervous."

"What gave you that impression?" you asked sarcastically and immediately regretted it. "Sorry."

"It's perfectly alright," he said and sat in the chair opposite you. You shifted uncomfortably and stared at the teapot. "I was informed of the situation this morning."

"I can pack my things."

Zhongli's eyes widened but he composed himself. "I fear my reasoning for calling upon you has been misinterpreted."

You peered up at him, confused. "So you're not going to fire me?"

Humor rose in his face and he chuckled in a way that made your sternum rumble. "I am certainly not."

"But I messed up the contract. Pretty badly - though I feel like adding that isn't really smart on my part. Shouldn't you be mad?"

"Would you like me to be?"

"Not to be rude, but can you even get mad?"

"I can," he said, humor laced in his tone. "But I am not today, nor will I be when it comes to these kinds of affairs."

You moved to the edge of your chair and gripped your clothes. "But why not? He was, he really was. And I - well I'm mad at myself," you added and dropped your gaze to your hands. "I made an already painful time even more. I should have double-checked them but I didn't." You could sense the emotions returning to your eyes. The burn and itch in your nose, the heat in your throat. You loathed mistakes.

"Tell me, what reason did you choose to join the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor?" Zhongli asked as he carefully reached for the teapot. You could smell the aroma of perfectly blended herbs. Breathing it in soothed the torrent in your mind.

"I wanted to help people I guess."

"There are many professions with duties as those. What drew you to this one?"

"I um - well It might sound a bit morbid but I think there's beauty in passing. In letting go and celebrating the life of the ones you love. My family is very small. I lost my mother when I was young and never really got the chance to provide something special for her. So, I thought, if I can make those moments worthwhile to others then, well, maybe I can honor her life that way."

Zhongli nodded slowly, a single dip of his head as the fragrant tea filled the cup. He passed it to you, your fingers grazing his. "A worthy conviction. It would bring reason to believe she holds a great deal of pride in your heart."

You pressed your lips together. "She does," you said. You rarely got to talk about her.

"How is the tea?"

"Very good. Thank you," you hummed, grateful for its ability to bring your tears to a standstill.

"As it comes to the contract -"

"I'm really sorry. I don't -"

Zhongli held up his hand, stalling you. "Little can be accomplished without rules or standards. They are set for a reason and hold strongly in legal binding. To abide by a contract is to act within accordance with agreed-upon guidelines." He paused and you waited for the stones to fall. "May I inquire if the fulfillment of the family's wishes came to fruition?"

"They did, but-"

"Then the scales have been corrected. The need for reprimand or reformation has passed. As I am aware you have fulfilled your duties and will continue to press on as a member of the Parlor."

You looked at him, watched as he sipped his tea with poise and pride. "You really aren't disappointed?" It was such a childish thing to ask. A grown adult asking another if they are upset with them but for some reason, you needed to know, needed the reassurance that even though you failed yourself, you hadn't failed him.

"Mistakes are as the tides. They appear only to be washed away. It's what is left behind that defines their impact. This day has brought, in my eyes, a welcome change. For had it not been, we would not be sharing in each other's pleasant company."

You smiled, chuckled with bubbling emotion, and wiped your cheek. "Hah, I guess that's one way to look at it. Though, I don't know I kinda wish you yelled at me instead," you joked. Something you never thought you'd do in front of someone like him.

"Perhaps another time," he replied, an equal tease in his voice. It emboldened you.

"It's a date then."

"I look forward to it," he said and held out his cup, nodding while you fluttered through emotion-filled laughter and mirrored his gesture.

Thaumaturgy Anthology (October 11-13, 2024)

This event is based on spells and rituals. Inspiration does not equal understanding; liberties have been taken. All content is owned by Witch Hazels Musings, theft of these images and stories will result in immediate action.