#ANYWAY thank you for sending something in <3

[criminalamnesia]

Traitor part 8

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

here it is everyone :)) took me forever but it’s finally here! now I can disappear in peace lol. I’ll proofread everything later, but I hope this lives up to everyone’s expectations. thank you all for the love you’ve given this series. I hope this gives you some closure.

let me know if you want any drabbles from the series <3

thank you again!

after kyle finally leaves you alone, you slink back against the door, shutting your eyes so tightly stars dot your vision.

it never ends, does it?

apologies. worry. sympathy. pity.

it was in each of their eyes— the one-four-one. each of them trying to mask their pity for you behind sickening sympathy. you were exhausted of that look— not just from them, but from everyone you had walked past or looked at since everything had happened.

you open your eyes, scanning the room. what once had been a haven had become a hell. shattered glass sprinkled the floor near the mirror. clothes were still strewn about. you hadn’t bothered picking up what had been disturbed.

you’d be gone too soon for it to matter.

your phone rings then, the screen lighting up in the dimly lit room. you let the ring tone play for a second longer before you’re moving, reaching for the device on your nightstand.

it’s kate, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“hello?” you say as you answer the call.

“it’s kate,” comes the woman’s familiar voice through the speaker. “im on my way to base. should be there by tomorrow.”

you startle, eyebrows raising in confusion. “you’re coming here? why?”

you hear her sigh. “we can talk about it tomorrow. I need to meet with john, anyways. two birds, one stone and all that.” she tells you.

“can you at least tell me if the paper work is all set for my transfer?” you ask.

she doesn’t answer for a moment, and then:

“we’ll talk about it tomorrow, sergeant. get some rest. you sound like you need it.”

you hear a click, and then the line goes dead. you furrow your brows as you look down at the phone in your hand.

why on earth would she come all the way here just to talk?

your mind is moving a mile a minute, and suddenly, it clicks.

laswell is coming here to do damage control.

you huff a mirthless laugh, dropping your phone as your hands come up to run through your hair.

you weren’t being reassigned. you were being discharged.

but was it at her insistence, or someone else’s?

you whip around, wrenching open the door and storming down the hall to price’s office. those you pass in the hallway give you bewildered stares, and suddenly you’re aware that you’re still in that damned robe, but you’re on a mission.

and when you start something, you see it through.

you don’t bother knocking as you reach price’s door. instead, you barge into the office, effectively interrupting an argument between price and simon. their voices die off, heads turning to appraise who had barged in.

price’s eyes widen at the sight of you, but simon’s face is as unreadable as always. the door clicks shut behind you, and you stalk towards the two men, your fists clenched as you seethe.

“you motherfuckers,” you hurl the words at them, “you fucking knew. you knew.”

“love, what are you talkin’ about?” price questions, his brows furrowed as he turns to you.

“laswell,” you say, and price’s eyes widen. he knows. and now he knows you know.

“whatever she told you—”

“she didn’t tell me shit,” you huff. “I figured it out. why the fuck else would she come here just to talk? she’s playing fucking babysitter, isn’t she?”

price doesn’t speak. your gaze flits to simon’s.

“I’m sure you were rooting for this outcome, weren’t you? couldn’t finish me off in that fucking room, but hey, this is just as good, isn’t it? sending me back to fucking nothing.”

“this job is my life,” you turn your attention back to the captain. “and you fuckers just can’t stop ruining it, can you?” your voice is raising, and tears prick the corners of your eyes. you’re becoming hysteric.

“all because of a fucking lie!” you’re yelling now, jabbing a finger into the chest of your former captain.

“calm down,” the sound of simon’s rough baritone leads your head to snap toward him. your eyes are wide, fury and terror blazing in them.

and he expects you to let loose. scream and hit and scream some more. but you don’t.

you stand there and you stare at him with those wide eyes. the rest of the room— hell, the world falls away— and it’s just him and you.

like it was on patrol during countless nights, your bare fingers dancing over his gloved hands as you prattled on about a show you liked.

on countless nights curled up in his bed, your back to him, pressed so close he could feel the beat of your heart in his own chest. his arms wrapped around you, one of your fingers lazily tracing the ink on his forearm. no words spoken, yet so much said.

in the field, when you and johnny bicker over comms and he takes your side. when you take a bullet to the shoulder and he holds pressure on it until evac arrives.

when he makes eye contact with you as you pin kyle to the training mat, finally able to overcome his strength. when price tells him you’re the rat and he doesn’t want to believe it.

it’s just him and you. a lieutenant and his sergeant. but it’s more than that.

it’s a deep understanding of this job being your life. of losing everything and everyone you hold dear. of finding family again in this team, and doing whatever it takes to keep that family safe.

and he fully realizes, then, what you have been condemned to.

what they condemned you to.

what he condemned you to.

he breaks from his thoughts as you slam your fist into his jaw.

price’s eyes widen, his feet carrying him forward to intervene, but simon waves him off as he cradles a hand to his jaw.

“let ‘em,” he grunts out, and price looks bewildered, but he nods. he takes a step back, his hands falling to his sides, and he lets you strike again.

“fuck you,” you seethe, and despite your best efforts, your voice cracks. emotion seeps in, and your eyes are wet as you swipe a leg out from under him, forcing him to his knees.

he falls with no grace, knees hitting the concrete floor with a dull thud. you’d cringe if this were any other circumstance.

instead, you deliver another blow, cracking his nose with the force of it. blood sprays out and wets your robe.

“ghost—” price begins from somewhere off to the side, but simon just shakes his head.

“fuck you, simon! fuck you!” you scream at him, and your fists are flying blindly as tears cloud your eyes.

and he just takes the hits. you subconsciously register the sound of the office door squeaking as it opens and quickly closes. price didn’t want to be a bystander any longer, it seems.

but he still didn’t jump in. was it because of ghost’s insistence? or because your captain didn’t want to watch one of his soldiers finally snap?

you finally stop yourself when blood drips from your knuckles. unsurprisingly, they’ve split again. there’s no doubt in your mind that there will be little scars between each of them once they’ve healed.

more to add to the reminder of everything. god, at this point you knew you’d never forget it even if you wanted to. even if you tried to. even if you did for a brief moment, those little white lines— discolored and jagged skin in the place of what should be smooth and unmarred, would be your reminder.

blood pools on the floor, a mix of yours and simon’s. you pay it no mind as you wipe the backs of your hands on your completely ruined robe. good— now you had a great excuse to throw the damned thing away.

you would’ve thrown it away anyways.

you bring your hands to your eyes, wiping away tears that had freed themselves their cage. you see simon clearly then, his face bloodied and yet still beautiful in that way of his. his nose is obviously broken. lacerations above his eye and on his cheekbones.

his eyes are staring back you, the icy blue of them never more intense than now.

you heave in your breaths as you look at him. his split lip cracks further as he opens his mouth.

“done?”

and you don’t have anything left to give, so you nod. then you slump to your knees, down onto his level, and you don’t look away from what you’ve done.

it’s no different than what you did to the doctor, or to countless enemies in the field. but, at the same time, it is different.

because it’s him, and he let you do this. he could have easily stopped you. he’d shown his strength against you numerous times on the sparring mat, picking you up and tossing you around with ease.

and yet he didn’t stop you.

“why?” you ask him, and it’s a loaded question. your voice is a watery tremble, and the word comes out as a whisper, but he doesn’t shy away.

he shrugs. “you needed it.”

he’s focusing on one aspect of the question— on why he let you hit him. you open your mouth to respond, but he surprises you by speaking again.

“least I could do,” he says.

you close your mouth, your chapped lips pressed into a thin line. why is he doing this now? saying this now? what changed?

“is it your fault, then? that I’m being discharged?” you find yourself asking, and you’re not sure if you want to know the answer.

maybe you just want a reason to hate him more.

“no,” he says, and you know he means it.

he never lied to you, regardless of any pain it may have saved. it was one of the things you had loved about him.

he sighs. “I didn’t want you to go.”

that surprises you. simon was never one to freely speak on his feelings. he had opened up to you during your relationship, but it was as if there was always an invisible line he could never cross. never did he utter the complete truth to his thoughts or feelings. and you had accepted that— because that is who he was.

and you would take him with all his walls if it just meant that you could have him.

“I don’t want you to.” he corrects himself.

the room falls silent around you. the part of you that still holds love for him yearns for his embrace at this moment. but you push that side of you down. you will not go crawling back, not after what happened.

“you’ve been an asshole,” you say, and he gives a curt nod.

“probably.” he concedes. “but I wouldn’ take anythin’ back. I told you, I meant what I said.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” you ask. god, he has a horrible way with words.

“no,” he tells you. “nothin’ I can say can do that.”

you snort. you fall back on you haunches, your hands in your lap as you look at him.

“I am never going to forgive you,” you tell him, words full of so much hurt.

he nods again. “I know. I don’ blame you. don’ expect you to, neither.”

“but I’m…” he starts, and his lips crease in a frown. “im sorry.”

you just look at him. perhaps you had wanted an apology at one moment in time, but now? now none of it mattered.

“I hope so,” you tell him. you move to stand, and he remains still. he hasn’t moved an inch since you’d finished your assault.

“I hope you feel this way for the rest of your lonely life. I hope that you never forget what you did to me, and I hope that it keeps you up at night. because I can tell you with certainty that I will never forget. and I hope the others remember, too. I hope it tears you all apart from the inside. that it follows you around for the rest of your career.”

you breathe in, then out. “and I hope no one ever gives you the chances I did,” your voice is soft. “because I would never wish what you did to me on the next person you think you love.”

his face conveys no emotion other than the small frown still on his lips. his eyes, so cold, have softened the tiniest bit. you used to love when you could bring out that softness inside of him. when it was just the two of you, your hand in his, his eyes on you.

those memories would suffocate you if you let them. what could’ve been will suffocate you. you refuse to let it.

you turn and stalk towards the door, not bothering to spare him another glance. you open it, stepping out into the hallway, coming face-to-face with the rest of the one-four-one.

their eyes are all wide as they take you in. your bloodied hands and robe. the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. you pull the door shut behind you before you speak.

“i don’t care to speak to kate,” you say to price, your eyes meeting his. “fuck her for not giving me a chance. and fuck you for laying down like a damn dog and not fighting for your fucking team.”

you turn to johnny next. “you shove your sorries up your ass, mactavish. I don’t want your sympathy, and I don’t want your pity. I hope your regret eats you alive.”

finally, kyle. “and you,” you glare at him. “if anyone other than simon should’ve defended me, it should’ve been you. I met you first, kyle. you were my closest friend, my brother. and you turned out to be just another fucking lap dog.”

you shake your head, blinking away hot tears. “I want you to get me temporary housing and a car because that’s the least you owe me, after ruining my life. and I don’t want to hear from any of you ever again. if I do, I guarantee you I will not show you the mercy you think you showed me when you had me tied up in that chair.”

none of them spoke, and you didn’t give them a chance to as you pushed past them, heading back toward your room to change.

a yellow cab retrieves you from base the next morning before kate arrives. it’s still dark outside when you leave the shelter that had once been home. rain pours down around you, a raging storm hanging overhead as it had all night prior. perhaps it was a reflection of your mood. you liked to think that it was.

you toss your duffle bag into the trunk, shutting it before climbing into the back seat. you hadn’t bothered to pack anything other than a few pairs of clothes you’d recovered from the floor of your room. everything else could be trashed, especially anything the boys had given you.

the driver doesn’t speak— price had given him all the information he needed— and paid him— before he’d fetched you. it seems your final outburst— and beating simon to a pulp— had finally put some urgency in his movements.

none of them had seen you off, per your request. you thought it was the least they could do for you after continuously disrespecting your boundaries.

(unbeknownst to you, simon had watched you leave through a window.)

the driver turned up the music— some pop song you didn’t know the name of— and you slumped in your seat, your head turned toward the window as you watched the rain race down it.

you found yourself drifting off quickly, and you didn’t try to fight it. you’re finally free of that place and the men you thought were your family. free of the anxiety of seeing them around every corner. free of the hate that sparked in your heart every time you heard their voices.

you sleep, and for the first time since before everything, it’s peaceful.

you wake to the taxi driver talking to you.

“we’re here,” he says, knocking on the glass separating the front and back seats. “can you get out now? I gotta get home. it’s my wife’s birthday.”

you blink the sleep from your eyes, nodding before you even register what he’s saying. “sorry,” you mumble as you fumble with the seat belt.

you slip from the car, your boots splashing in a muddy puddle. you grimace as the murky water seeps in, wetting your socks.

you trudge around to the back of the car, opening the trunk and retrieving your bag. you’ve just shut the trunk and stepped back when the car is driving off, kicking up mud that further dirties your boots and jeans.

you pay it little mind as you look at the small cottage before you.

nestled between some trees, it’s beautiful. a shingled roof. light blue paneled siding. a small front porch with a rocking chair and a bench swing. a beautiful dark blue door.

your favorite flowers live in the flower beds surrounding what you can see of the house. it makes you wonder if its a simple coincidence or if simon or price planned it.

how long have they known that you would have to come here? that you would have no where else to go except for where they put you?

you vowed that this house would just be temporary. you would get away from it as soon as possible, putting the rest of the one-four-one behind you. you didn’t want any of them knowing where to find you.

the rain slows to a sad drizzle. drops prick your skin as you make no effort to avoid puddles, splashing carelessly to the front door. you can hear birds beginning to chirp, slipping out of their hiding places as the sun’s rays begin to illuminate the earth once more.

a new beginning, you think.

you reach a hand toward the door knob, twisting it open and pushing inside. it’s a cozy little place with wood floors and a brick fireplace. it’s furnished, but there’s no personality to it. it clearly hasn’t been somebody’s home.

the door clicks shut behind you as you toe off your boots and drop your duffle by the door. as you nudge your boots out of the way with a foot, you notice an envelope on the floor.

eyebrows scrunched in confusion, you lean down and scoop it up. your name is written on the front in a scrawl you don’t recognize.

who else knows you’re here?

perhaps you’ll need to leave sooner than you thought.

you push your thumb under the seam, ripping it open with little finesse. inside is a typed letter. it’s an offer, you realize. a job offer.

its got an american stamp on it, and its signed by a phillip graves.

a new beginning indeed.

[ryescapades]

— hybrid au (no kaiju), snow leopard!narumi gen x gn!reader cw: none, just fluff! a/n: to those in my taglist, lmk if you're not into this .. just in case i ever decide to make a pt2. and to lera, tq for brainrotting w me :3

snow leopard!narumi who had somehow ended up at your doorstep on one rainy and stormy night. sopping wet from head to toe, his floppy black and white ears droops slightly as rainwater drips everywhere from his body.

snow leopard!narumi whom you had dotingly taken care of; getting him warmly bathed, freshly clothed and well-fed in the safety of your home, he then gives you his thanks in the form of a begrudging, albeit embarrassed grunt.

and when you register the adorable sight of his twitching ears, lowered tail and blushed cheeks in your mind, you'd decided then and there that you just had to take him in.

snow leopard!narumi who, since then, has been living with you as your new housemate (he refused to be called your... 'companion', like some domesticated animal or something). your home is more occupied now than ever, with game controls, electronic devices and figurines teeming on most of your shelves.

snow leopard!narumi who just loves to take up your time and personal space, much like how an actual house cat would. you'd be in your room, scrolling through your phone out of boredom when he appears, standing ramrod straight in the doorway (literally the manstanding emoji) with an indecipherable look on his face.

snow leopard!narumi who glares (and unconsciously pouts) at you when you throw him a brief glance before going back to what you were doing previously. he hates having to ask for your attention, no matter how desperate he is for it.

snow leopard!narumi who grumbles out that huffy "oi." at you, causing you to giggle. "what? you need anything?" you ask, smiling oh so innocently at him. you take note of the way his fluffy spotted tail swishes from side to side agitatedly, his ears reclining to the back and going into that notorious 'airplane mode' felines usually have.

"you gotta tell me what you want, gen. i'm not a mind reader," you point out with a cheeky glint in your eyes. in the end, he relents anyway, body comically slouching in defeat. "play games with me, dammit," he'd mutter under his breath, and with no intention of ever denying your adorable, grumpy overgrown cat, you yield to his demand (though the teasing you send him never ceases either).

snow leopard!narumi who can detect whenever you're having a particularly bad and exhausting day at work with just a single glimpse. he silently watches with a frown as you trudge your way to the bedroom to wash up, the vertical slits of his feline eyes narrowing in rapt attention. his console now forgotten, he doesn't even bother pausing nor saving the game before he puts the device aside with a new motive in mind.

snow leopard!narumi who sneaks into your room later that night, knowing you're still not asleep yet. he could see you there lying in the bed, staring up at the ceiling absently as your arms splay wide in a starfish position.

with a slow swish of his tail, he invites himself into your bed, straight away plopping his body onto yours. you choke slightly, the air rushing out of your lungs at the sudden weight. "hey!" you chastise, which he pays no mind to.

he buries his face in your chest, occasionally nuzzling at the space between your neck and shoulder. you would've let him stay there, if not for the sudden warm, textured and wet sensation on your neck. you gasp when you realize what it is.

"gen! what are you—" cupping his jaw to pull him away, your eyes blink a few times when his face greets you. the heavily-lidded magenta hues of his eyes are dauntingly striking under the dim light, but the tongue poking out between his lips nearly made you laugh. though you don't get the chance as he lets out a soft growl, urging you to stay still and just... let him do what it is he's trying to do.

snow leopard!narumi who then continues to lick all over your neck, nose scrunching cutely from time to time as he nips at your skin with his fangs like how a cat would wash another. like how cats groom each other to communicate, to show affection.

snow leopard!narumi who basks in your touch all the while, closing his eyes in contentment as you run your fingers through his hair, scratching behind his ears and rubbing at his nape. his tail wanders aimlessly at your leg, lightly and airily brushing on your skin like silken wool. you wonder if he realizes the way it settles to curl protectively, almost possessively around your ankle.

snow leopard!narumi whose chest rumbles and vibrates in a soothing rhythm against yours, ridding all the thoughts and worries that have perturbed you that day.

ah, you realize. he's purring on you.

you've taken such a good care of him ever since he first set foot into your home (that has now become his too), so it's only right he does the same, no?

cats when they go :p or just straight up 👁️👅👁️ when they're mid-licking like oh god my stupid baby you're so cute and for what

ps big cats don't actually purr but for the sake of my own sanity, i'm still making narumi purr idc

taglist: @maruflix @iamjellyfish @ouiouimochi @yueliie @justwinginglife @lumiambrose @minasfwoopyponytail @17020 @bgyuus @pixelcafe-network @lerath

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[meo-eiru]

Hihihiii :3 Hope you're having a great day author!

This is my first direct interaction in this website generally speaking, so what better way to start than rambling my head off about the twink slutty baby? YES. Lavi. That cute whore that's been on my mine for a good while now...I want to kiss him, want him to cuddle me so bad grrrr I want to rim his pretty ass and use it as my only life source for the rest of my mortal existence. I want to follow every single one of his instructions on how to please him while he guides me with that shit eating smug grin '>:3'. I totally see him as a power bottom, riding my strap effortlessly while he pins me down telling me how much of a pathetic virgin I am and how fortunate I am to even be touching him, how lucky I am that he's willing to teach me how to make him feel good, how he'd laugh once I'm exhausted and he keeps nonchalantly bouncing still with his endless incubi stamina...MMMM...But also, I want to hit his ribs each time he throws an annoying tauntrum, or make him whimper each time he breaks something expensive, I want to sneak into his phone and watch just all the dozens of porn he has in his gallery along with his search history, I need to make him cry so hard until we're both doubting who's the real pervert here...I NEED to peg him. I NEED to spank his cute jiggling ass until it's red and sore. I need to make him deepthroath my strap and perhaps give me head. I NEED to grope his cute small chest and nurse on his rosy nipples while he tries to make a teasing remark only to be interrupted by his own lewd moans. I NEED to watch how all that lube and cum slowly leaks out of his puffy hole with profane sounds while spreading his supple asscheeks further apart as he whines and mewls begging for more. I NEED to cuddle him from behind while I finger his thight whorish asshole, I NEEEED to give him some genuine, gentle love-making while kissing his pretty face and cooing sweet nothings into his ears while he grabs onto my neck thightly saying shamelessly how good it feels.

I want to give him goodnight kisses on the forehead, cheeks, nose, eyes, tummy and finally his soft lips. I want to feel him clinging onto me with his limbs (and tail of course) while we sleep, even better if he craddles my head on his chest. I might even forgive his murders if he promises to be a good boy with a pretty pout even though he'd probably be crossing his fingers behind his back. I want to do each other's hair and nails. I want him to listen to the music I listen to (Rabbit Hole by DECO27 would be SO him). I want to see his deadpaned and disdainful face when I tell him all my bad jokes. I want to go out with him at those aesthetic cafés and buy him everything he wants even if I won't be able to buy anything else for a while. I want us to get matching couple cheesy things. I want us to do lovey dovey stuff together and maybe a kiss that doesn't end up looking out of a hentai. A wholesome one. I want him to live on my lap. I want him to try make him wear decente clothes from time to time. I want to see his reaction once my mortal life comes to an end. (If he cries and gets depressed he'll look so pretty but if he laughs he'll also look so pretty). I want to show him off to my friends even if I know he's probably the type that types 'uwu', ':3' or 'nya~' either satirically or not. I would bear the cringe for him. I want to send him memes and reels and, overall, just hear his laugh because I'm sure it would be gorgeous just like him. <3

He literally lives rent free in my mind this is a call for help. I crave for more Lavi content.

I'm not horny. You are.

Anyway, thanks for the constant posting! I love how you write your characters and draw/paint! You're one of my favorite artists. Eat well and have a good day/night. :)

Oh my dear GOD this was a ROLLER COASTER

I don't even know where to start. Alright so first of all, this is so deliciously written omg??? You made me put Lavi on a plate and eat him I bet he'd taste like cake. The contrast between the wholesome parts and the extremely unholy parts were crazy I felt like I was in a car that randomly speeds up and down

Rabbit hole is indeed very Lavi, the animation fits him so well as well. If I knew how to make them I'd definitely draw a Lavi version. And yes he's definitely the type who'd type "uwu" and ">:3" unironically

THE DRAWINGS ARE SO CUTE AS WELL!! HE LOOKS SO ADORABLE LOOK AT HIS CUTE LITTLE FACE AND CUTE BUTT

[certifiedsexed]

Whats up? Im a trans guy who’s been struggling recently with the way I present myself.

I always loved wearing traditionally “feminine” clothes (skirts, dresses, crop tops, bows) but I feel like no one sees me as a guy when I wear these things.

I know I don’t need to “pass” to be valid but sometimes I get scared that no one actually sees me as a real guy, even though I feel that way.

Anyway, I think I’m going to get a binder and more “masculine” clothes (Not just because of how I think people perceive me also because I want to lol)

Any advice? Words of affirmation? thanks :))

Hi. Anon, here's the thing; it sounds like you're struggling less with how you present yourself and more with how other people view you.

[I say that not because I'm trying to tell you how to feel, but because you say that as if you've caused people to possibly be thinking transphobic things about you by the way you dress instead of the truth, which is that transphobic people will generally find any excuse to claim trans people aren't their gender regardless of what clothes we wear.]

I'm not going to tell you other people's opinions don't matter because I know that's not true; it clearly matters to you. But I am going to tell you that there are many non-transphobic people who will see you as the guy you are, regardless of how you dress and those are the people who you should care the most about.

Even if the only person you know who sees you as a guy is you when you look in the mirror, that just means you should care about your own perception most.

Luckily, you already seem to be on the right path, specifically buying different clothes for yourself not because you "need" to "look masculine" but because you want them. Just keep that in mind; value what you want above what other people may think of you.

Let yourself be fucking excited about your clothes and presentation. Prioritize your enjoyment over your anxiety and have some fucking fun, Anon.

I hope something in this helps! Feel free to send more asks if it doesn't/you have more questions. <3

[inkyajax]

gmorning Clari!!! 💘 I’m not sure you’ve done it before, but I’d loooove to know what type of yanderes you’d classify your genshin faves as 😘

ANDYYYY i am so sorry i am responding a few days late to this and that’s because i accidentally wrote you a whole novel for an answer :) your ask sparked so many thoughts and i just BLAAAH spewed them all over the page (*ﾉωﾉ) ugh ahahaha ANYWAY oh gosh okay i have so much to say, let’s get into it!!! also apologies for how MASSIVE ajax’s is waaaah

characters: wriothesley, ajax [childe], kamisato ayato, thoma warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, yandere behaviour (gaslighting, obsessiveness, toxic relationships, delusional thinking, manipulation, over-protectiveness, etc) words: 2.1k

₊˚⊹ 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲

WRIOTHESLEY is the controlling, authoritarian type that feels like a really strict father, all under the guise of ‘protecting you’ and ‘keeping you safe’. he veers into delusional territory a little here because he genuinely believes what he’s telling you (and himself) and genuinely believes himself to be doing the right thing. he isn’t possessive, he just wants to make sure you’re going out with safe people. he isn’t obsessive, he just wants to know where you are at all times in case an emergency strikes and he has to come find you. he isn’t overbearing, he just cares and is proactive—don’t you want him to care? can’t you see he’s only this ‘protective’ because he loves you? 

he has thoroughly convinced himself that this behaviour has nothing to do with jealousy or a desire to keep you locked up, to keep you 100% certainly safe and his forever, and nothing to do with wanting to exert complete control over you, orchestrating your every decision—and he’s pretty good at continuously deluding himself into believing it. he’s so good, in fact, and his logic is so sound, that it has YOU wondering if you’re ‘just being crazy’, if you’re overthinking things or reading too much into them. wriothesley has had a lot taken away from him, after all, and he knows exactly how the mind of criminals tick—can you really blame him for being a bit paranoid? maybe you’re the one who’s overreacting and being unreasonable. maybe you’re even feeling a little guilty for being so ungrateful—shouldn’t you appreciate having someone who loves and cares for you this much to go to such extents? shouldn’t you want to relinquish all power to someone you love equally as much? shouldn’t you trust him to make only the best, most sound and appropriate decisions for you? you probably should. 

₊˚⊹ 𝐚𝐣𝐚𝐱

AJAX is kind of like, the typical yandere, and he encompasses several ‘types’, evolving throughout the course of your relationship and shapeshifting into different variants depending on the situation itself. and while the other three men seem normal until you’re in too deep with them, refraining from showing symptoms of yandere-ness until after you’ve been with them for an extended period of time and mean a lot to them, ajax is weird from the very beginning. 

almost immediately you can sense that there’s something slightly off about him, but you can’t put your finger on what it is. it’s so subtle that it doesn’t strike you as particularly dangerous, leading you to merely write it off as one of his quirks and nothing more. 

he’s overbearing right from the start, of course; not necessarily enough to be concerning just yet, but enough for it to be abnormal—unusual—and noticeable (which reminds me of your lil ajax piece!!!). from the instant he sees you, he is irreversibly obsessed with you. you permeate his every waking thought, and eventually begin to leak into his dreams, too, and suddenly he can barely breathe without knowing where you are and what you’re doing, his concentration consumed by you. 

he begins stalking you—‘overseeing’, he had called it—making detailed notes of your favourite locations and your most frequented friends. he’s constantly got an eye on you one way or another, even if he has to employ other people to do it for him, discreetly reporting their findings every few hours. he tells them you’re in danger—which, you are, technically—and that you must be observed at all times from afar, silently and stealthily. 

ajax is patient and he can play the waiting game, carefully devising and then revising his strategy based on your moves. he loves playing predator and prey, gets a thrill from how the hunt unfolds—much like a battle, it’s a story, a rich tapestry you and he are constantly and concurrently creating, together. and that he thinks is so beautiful.

in textbook yandere fashion, once he’s gathered a sufficient amount of intel, he begins ‘showing up’ randomly at your usual spots, ‘bumping into you’ fortuitously. charming and sweet, the only thing that’s initially unsettling is just how well the two of you get along. ajax is sure not to mimic you too much—he doesn’t want to be a mirror, after all, and being too similar is far from a good thing (especially when it matches so well it simply can’t be coincidental).

well—that, and the sharp glint in his eye that flares with something dangerous every time you giggle or gush, every time you fall further for him. and once he has you enchanted, ensnared, you’re trapped for life, tangled up in him so tightly that he might as well have fused to your flesh. 

ajax likes to tell you it isn’t about power and control, but he knows that it is. he’s smart, and he’s self aware, and he doesn’t really care if this is ‘wrong’—he sees it as necessary and he genuinely believes he knows better than you do. he has to take care of you, or else who will? you’re clearly not capable of satisfactorily doing it on your own, so he must (god, how would you manage without him?). even if you oppose him or fight back against him, he’s purely convinced you’re bull-headed and stubborn, snorting at your wanting to be independent when he truly knows you’re too stupid take care of yourself ‘properly’ all on your own.

violence is a mainstay of your relationship, but not towards you; never towards you—merely towards everyone around you. his jealousy knows no bounds, but you will rarely see it outright. instead, ajax prefers to hone his emotions, to fashion them into a weapon or use them as fuel to thoroughly tear apart anyone who looks your way in a manner he doesn’t like. it’s his job as your lover and keeper, isn’t it? 

₊˚⊹ 𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐨

AYATO knows what he is, and he doesn’t care. why should he, when he’s sure what he’s doing is ultimately correct and he’s used to having everything that he wants, and everything going his way, even if he has to force/manipulate it to? he’s so skilled at that in particular—manipulating situations and events to procure favourable outcomes for himself. in ayato’s mind, you should be grateful that he affords you so many freedoms—he could lock you away in the basement or a padded room, chain you to a bed with no entertainment or stimulation save for the books he has so conscientiously selected for you, and no other human contact aside from himself. but he trusts you, and he doesn’t want to go to those measures (though rest assured, he has promised you he will not hesitate to reach such heights if he deems it absolutely necessary, no matter how much he doesn’t want to; you staying his comes before his personal preferences and pleasures). as such, he allows you to roam the estate grounds under the watchful eye of his closest confidants and most capable guards (usually thoma, unless he is otherwise occupied and busy); he allows you access to letter writing materials (though they must go through two rounds of supervision and revisions before they are approved; once by thoma, and once by ayato himself); he allows you to go out in public as long as you are with him, etc. 

despite these apparent freedoms he affords you, he still picks your outfits out for you each day, and he devises a comprehensive meal plan for you each week, and creates schedules and rules he expects you to follow, thoroughly and meticulously to the letter. it is these subtle forms of ownership that he enjoys the most. he doesn’t feel the need to shout from the mountaintops, loudly and aggressively, that you are his, because the fact is so obvious, so evident, the second anyone merely glances at you. you walk like him, you talk like him, you sit, stand, and bow like him, just like he trained you to. 

ayato is also the type of yandere to punish you. he is molding your pretty little mind into exactly what he wants it to be, and that means that undesirable behaviours must be immediately and severely corrected through appropriate punishments—you must learn, or be taught what is right and what is wrong in ayato terms + definitions, so you will refrain from repeating such behaviour in the future. he is truly crafting you into the most perfect, precious, obedient little doll—and having a blast while doing so. it’s his little pet passion project, in a way; something he looks forward to working on when he has a moment of spare time. 

ayato was sly and clever with the way he initially enticed you, entrapped you, but underneath his cool, precisely chiseled exterior, ayato is selfish, manipulative, and extremely controlling. all decisions are ultimately made by and go through him. he will skillfully and carefully cut you off from all lifelines and communication, rendering you wholly dependent on him, and then will meticulously chip away at your mind until he sculpts it into exactly what he desires—someone who is as obsessed with him as he is with them. he slowly, stealthily, and steadily induces a severe, irreversible case of stockholm syndrome. the damage he does to your mind is permanent—and that’s exactly his goal. you now live for him. your days are marked by his appearances, his comings and goings, and the only thing you have to look forward to is seeing + spending time with him. you live to please him, live to be with him, and become absorbed by him, so you are merely an extension of him and no longer an individual yourself. everything revolves around ayato—he is your entire universe. 

₊˚⊹ 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚

THOMA is the most dangerous type of yandere, because thoma is genuine. thoma’s feelings are 100% authentic—and he earnestly intends to bring you no harm whatsoever—they’re just way too intense. he loves you so much that it veers into insanity, and the passion he feels towards you (and towards keeping you safe + claiming you as his) is so fierce that it physically hurts him to experience, chest blistering with scorching adoration and razored affection, something so dense and so all-consuming that thoma wants to claw through his own flesh and pry his ribcage apart spoke by spoke just so he can experience a shred of relief. 

thoma is, for the most part, an honest guy—starkly, brashly honest, so honest it shatters his words and gnaws at his voice, leaving it rough and raw, splintered to shards; but you can always trust he says exactly what he means. he severely lacks self awareness, not even realizing that his behaviour is inappropriate and extreme (he just cares about you SO much! it blinds his rationale and erodes his logic, incapacitating his ability to understand that he’s so suffocating it borders on terrifying). 

but what makes thoma so incredibly perilous is his sincerity. he truly just wants to keep you safe, eyes brimming with tears and voice hitching on barely contained emotion as he thoroughly explains to you his logic for stashing tracking devices in your bags or his reasoning for shattering the kneecaps of the man who made you uncomfortable at work, sentiment thick in his throat, words straining with the weight of his honesty, with the desperation for you to understand, to see it his way. he swears to the high heavens that he’d never hurt a single hair on your pretty, precious little head, and promises that he doesn’t want to scare you, but firmly asserts that he will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. 

and he means it. thoma is, in the most essential sense, your guard dog. he’s so sweet towards you, even submissive at times, always subservient to your every wish and whim, your every demand and desire, but he’ll fucking rip anyone within a meter of you to pieces with his teeth and bare hands alone if he feels as though you are being threatened in any way—and his standards and definition of ‘threatened’ are extreme and absurd, of course, causing him to react in a way that is severely disproportionate to the situation.

it borders on too much all the time—he is too obsessive, too protective, too clingy, but he’s also so sweet, so gentle, so incredibly bonafide that you can’t help but not be upset with him. he only does what he does because you’re his entire world, right? what’s so harmful about that? 

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

I've always wondered if you happened to have a discord? If not have you ever considered making one?

i do have one! however i use it very sparingly because 1) new people (especially groups) scare me & 2) brain's been fucking weird for a hot minute and i barely talk to people i'm already friends with let alone strangers

[nomairuins]

i like overthink everything now it makes me feel so dumb. i used 2 be able to just talk 2 ppl but nowadays every single thing im like Is that actually going to make them hate me. Yes probably. and then i just dont respond which makes ppl hate me. this is how it is

[jimmyspades]

One more sappy post just to say happy birthday Jimmy, love you lots

He’s been one of my favorite actors for quite some time but it wasn’t until the last few months something clicked and I really fell hard. He’s what I needed when I needed it, a gorgeous bright spot in the midst of a rough personal time. Diving into his filmography has been a lot of fun and at times even challenging. There’s a lot about his best work that pushes me out of my comfort zone and asks all the painful, awkward, worthwhile questions we should all ask ourselves—and even harder, it confronts us with some of the honest answers.

I’ve learned a lot about myself and other people and sexuality and fear/anxiety and how to be a real person in the world. And I’ve watched some really terrible movies. Most importantly, I’ve met some very very amazing people who love Jim too and we get to hang out on this silly website every day and have fun :-) I think the greatest thing art gives us is community (in many forms) and I’m just very grateful to James for being the center of ours and introducing me to so many wonderful people. And he isn’t too bad himself ! A pretty special guy :’)

Soooo happy birthday Jamesy, thank you for being you—you’re the only one who can get away with it. You’ve made the world a much stranger, much more exciting place in every way ❤️❤️

[fuckmeyer]

Wiggins!) the bizarre thing about the vampire men in the cullen family all seem to be at least subconsciously what Smeyer wants Bella to have but can’t seem to get over her initial vision of what she saw in her drafts or whatever. It’s odd that every single one of the Cullen men are like strongly devoted (but mostly devoid of personality because it’s so Bella centric) but when you compare them to Edward they seem interesting in some ways. Like Narratively we’re supposed to have this threat that Edward is constantly holding back from killer her but I don’t feel like we see that. Conversely, Jasper is constantly the one who is suffering about human smells and is the more vampire-like. But he’s also a glorified lap dog. So it’s like ‘oh he’s a monster but he’ll never hurt me” (things Alice has said out loud. Man even psychics slip up. I swear her powers weren’t so accurate until Smeyer needed an excuse for plot reasons)

Emmett feels like when some women say they like waifish guys because they don’t want to seem like they’re vapid for liking “big dudes with muscles” so of course you pair Emmett with the “shallow blonde”

Carlisle, I swear only exists so Edward has someone to model but I would also argue that he’s proto-Edward before whatever reworking she had to do when writing Twilight for a YA audience and brought him back as a different character.

Yeah a rant

hello again bestie Wiglet! (note to self: learn Photoshop so i can shop Jacob's bad wig onto a pic of Piglet)

this is such an interesting take! thanks for sharing. i totally see what you're saying. in all the Cullen men we see both a blend of softness & devotion *and*, interestingly enough, a patchwork of patriarchal ideas of what a man "should" be. & this idea comes to the forefront with the depiction of the love interests

smeyer wants us to see Edward as the chivalric gentlemen from the Days of Yore. we see this in the opening doors, the cutsey little romance taglines ("you are my life now," "look after my heart; i've left it with you," "so the lion fell in love" etc), the knight saving the damsel in distress, the expensive tokens of his affection, etc.

at the same time, in both Edward & Jacob we see the crude traits of the Patriarchy Dreamboat kinda guy. if i had to sum it up, it's like the guy you see in 80s movies. "bad boy." "opposites attract." he's a jerk. he's a hunk. he's domineering. he's allowed to show emotion only & especially if that emotion is anger. he's persistent in his efforts to get the girl, going so far as to kiss her without her consent if it's For a Good Cause (Edward in New Moon post-Volterra, Jacob in Eclipse). he's a cool guy who's In Control 👉😎👉

perhaps that's why the Twilight saga appealed so such a large swath of women & girls. the women, who grew up with the notion that they could have the true love of their dreams so long as they submitted to the patriarchal social contract, saw the contract being fulfilled in Edward. (i.e., "you can be the king if you treat me like a princess.")

on the other hand, the 90s/00s girlies who grew up in the midst of a feminist revolution & who could see the glimmer of a dismantled patriarchy on the horizon were attracted to Edward for the flashes of radical feminist love they saw: the unapologetic expressions of emotion, the honesty of him sharing his vulnerabilities & weaknesses, Bella's ability to override Edward's will when necessary, etc.

sorry, i know this isn't really the crux of the rant you submitted, but it is extremely interesting to see these contradictions playing out in all the male characters of the saga. it's almost like smeyer is having this internal debate with herself without even realizing it...

[murdleandmarot]

Hi hi! Omg I just saw the post where you mentioned vicky teaching bluebelle the jellicle ball choreo and I am not normal abt it. Bellebelle got pranked 😔

TRULY‼️‼️‼️ YOU GET IT‼️‼️‼️

no but I had the idea appear in my head and it’s so sodding funny n cute I’m glad it infected you too :D

Because I can just imagine all the pre-jellicle dance nonsense happening (with all the misto and bomba and Alonzo ballet) and Bluebelle’s just like okay okay okay. This is chill. This is dignified. I am calm.

And then the amp music builds and she’s just like “WHAT THE FUCK” and scurries away, (like to the back where Deuteronomy is lolll)

And THEN when it finally starts and the music is playing and all the tension is released and it’s just FUN now, Bluebelle squints and is like. Hey wait a minute 🤨. I know what’s going on.

*flashback to like three months ago*

Bluebelle: Wow Victoria this new choreography you’ve been teaching me is so cool :) who’d you learn it from?

Victoria, who learned the choreo exactly one(1) hour ago: haha. Just. Somewhere.

[uncanny-tranny]

(for transsexual thursday) i’m a trans man and i’d just like to appreciate how awesome it is to know other trans people. just finding people that understand and connect with you. it’s such a welcoming feeling :D

It's so awesome when you have a variety of trans friends... like it truly shows you that we have so much more in common than we don't, and I forever cherish the friends I have made along the way.... truly such a special and unique relationship <3

[dailyfigures]

started following you a while before i went to a convention. i gotta thank you for everything you post, you got me back into wanting to collect figures, and it's giving me motivation to clean my room and redecorate

oh that's so great anon that makes me really happy!!! i'm so glad you feel that passion and motivation again i'm really happy for you! thank you for your nice message <3

[seoafin]

This is going to be weird, but you prompted some thoughts in me about rip!mc when you said you can’t envision her living past 50. So when I was 16 during lunch one time, I got this sinking feeling that I wouldn’t live past 24. I didn’t think too much about it at the time, but over the years I’ve thought about it more and now I turn 24 in two months. And this is almost certainly just an intrusive thought, but it’s still there and it’s been playing on my paranoia and expectations of my life for years. My Abuelo always said that he would be ready to go at 60 and he didn’t expect to live past that, but he’s now 90 and still kicking. It’s tangential and I’m definitely projecting, but I feel like rip!mc is similar in the sense that she’s fully ready to be dead before 50, she’d be content even to live that long considering their world as jujutsu sorcerers and really she expects to be dead long before that. But instead, she just keeps living and having to figure out how to keep going. She can’t just give up because there are people who care about her and who she cares for in turn, and they wouldn’t let her anyways. Like even if stsg died first in whatever au it is, there’s a part of me that imagines her one day as a granny in a garden where you can look up at the stars at night. Like her kids with stsg have their own kids at this point that always come to stay at her house, and megumi 100% still visits with his kids and their kids. Like I just hope she’s learned to be content and to let herself be happy. And of course this could be the complete opposite of where you see her going which is absolutely valid, you’ve just made me really care about her with your wonderful writing. I just love the idea of taking this person who doesn’t expect or even want to live very long because they had so much pain and having them get to cherish decades and decades of a life experiencing love completely to their astonishment. God you’ve made me insane lmao thank you so much for your beautiful stories!! - times

messages that have me tearing up at 12 in the morning this ask literally touched me so much you don't understand 😭😭😭😭 i love when people tell me their little stories as a way to relate to ripmc it's so human and not weird at all. it's wonderful it's lovely i love when people tell me something that made them resonate with her! like yes she was always meant to be a projection of the reader reading! but she also probably reflects a lot back to the reader just as they project onto her. it always worries me when people say that relate too hard to ripmc (rip my ao3 comments 😭😭) also in my mind it's kinda always just been oh ripmc probably just expires at 50 because somehow that's how it was always supposed to be. she was supposed to die but she didn't. it's just natural that she dies early. it was also probably me wanting to give her some peace in death but also why!!! i don't necessarily think there's more grace in death than living. sorry i don't know where this is going but you're right! there is grace and happiness and dignity in living to an old age, surrounded by the people you love! it's not wrong to live. there's never anything wrong in wanting to live.

[silbeni]

Brewing an alt timeline w Ryoma in the Rohan live action

[i-seeaspaceshipinthe-sky]

Okay, I don't know if I'm imagining this but the lockpicking gifset reminded me of this little tremor Klaus often has in his hands. You can also see it in the Vietnam flashback when he and Dave are crossing arms and downing shots, for example. And there were other times but ofc my brain won't provide them to me right now which is just typical. Anyway, since you're a fellow Klaus fan, have you ever noticed this at all?

YES ANON BLESS YOU ALSO I LOVE YOU

of course i noticed it; to me, it's such a constant thing that it might even become unnoticeable at some point. a character trait. excellent acting choice. a tiny detail of klaus' body language that builds his personality and shows the viewer what he's been through. i think, the only scene (to me, at least) where the tremor was shown intentionally was the s2 dog tags scene where klaus found out dave already enlisted. yeah, that was straight up SHOVED into my face. but!! he does this nearly all the time, and it just might be well-covered by his constant "dramatic arms" movements. if you noticed, his neck like, "glitches" sometimes, he does those full-body spasm-like shakes, he hunches his back, blinks repeatedly (and so does rob, so i don't know whether it's the character thing and rob picked it from him, or he does indeed have some sort of tics, but i think i only noticed this one so far); klaus is never 'static' and this is one of the reasons why i love watching his scenes over and over again. i always notice something new.

his hands even didn't stop shaking in the void (the bouncy house scene where luther grabbed him) !!

but!! i also would like to point out that despite all these tremors/tics/figetings his moves are so choreographically smooth in s3. like yeah, he's still that jittery, swaying sideways guy, but. it's a part of him that works perfectly (on me) (almost balanced out) and i wonder how it'll change in s4 where the aftermath of his addictions is gone along with his powers.

[astrhae]

Hello! I’m late to finding out that you wrote the Anastasia/ tangled au that’s been LIVING in my head for WEEKS, and I just want to say it’s one of the most beautifully written things I’ve ever read and just… I adore everything about the phrasing and the imagery and the way all the references fit together and literally everything about it and that I’m so happy to hear you’re writing chapter three <3

akskdskdsk hi hello!! i'm so glad you're enjoying the fic so much 💙 --- i've been listening to the broadway anastasia soundtrack again and feeling so many things about wylan and the lyrics: halfway between where I've been, and where I'm going // In between wondering why, and finally knowing

it sums up so much about wylan and there's so much to unpack there, and i have almost all the dialogue written for the third chapter, but here's a little snippet for you :)

Wylan tilted his head. “You believe in Saints?” “I don’t believe in Ghezen,” Jesper shrugged. He wasn’t sure he believed in blessings either, but it felt like running in circles: everywhere he tried to run, the memory of the Prince was there, haunting, taunting. “That wasn’t what I asked,” Wylan said, stubborn. The lessons had paid off – Wylan did sound like a Prince. But Jesper had never been good at listening to Princes. Shaking his head, he picked up his hat again and put it on, letting one side drag down more than the other, more than was fair. “Lesson thirteen, princeling,” he replied, “we don’t always get what we ask for.”