#coupled with me not knowing if the guilt i feel is proportional to the guilt the people i 'wronged' would want me to feel

[doggendoodle]

fucked up and singlehandedly cost my group a kudos fight in front of someone i respect (this will have a negligible impact on their day but i will forever be haunted by their first impresson of me being ruined)

[lex9923]

Tw// SA

This will be my one and only official statement on this situation, because frankly I’m done with all of this mental hopscotch happening.

I am a sexual assault victim. I was the same age as Caiti is now when it happened, and I was cornered with his hands down my pants touching my vagina and up my shirt touching my boobs, while I tried to get away and make it stop. I still to this day don’t know who my attacker was, but it will follow me for the rest of my life. It’s been five years since then, and my story has not changed once. Not ever. I hadn’t told people for a couple years cause I thought since I didn’t know who my attacker was, I wouldn’t be believed. As well as the fact that I came forward about a sexual harassment I faced at a job and was met with “well, boys will be boys”. Through it all, I am here, and I survived.

Watching the reaction to this situation from both of the main parties involved, those who weren’t there, those who were, and the fans had sent me spiraling. I’ve spent the past two weeks reliving that trauma from five years ago cause I thought I misinterpreted my assault as something else. I had not, and never have. It’s been incredibly invalidating watching the alleged “victim” change the story multiple times, make fake texts, omit important information, all while not even listening to the person she accused of a criminally offensive act.

Caiti is absolutely allowed to feel uncomfortable and regret what happened after the fact, but it is not, and will not ever be assault-unless George actually did touch her boobs, and then that will be a different discussion, but with her credibility disappearing, I’ll only believe it if he admits it himself. I’m trying to extend grace to her being young, sexually inexperienced, and caught up in online culture, but it’s hard the longer this gets dragged out. There are things you do when approaching a situation like this:

1. You absolutely need to provide evidence and proof of your claims. You can’t prove something that never happened, but you can prove something that did. It’s why it’s innocent until proven guilty. Expecting people to blindly believe you is delusional at worst and ignorant at best.

2. You must absolutely have your story 100% correct and factual to how you perceived what happened, before bringing forth any accusations. Using purposefully charged language and then changing the story to match the one you accused is not it. Nor is changing your story yet again when people are catching on to the inconsistencies.

3. Allow the accused person to defend themself. You can’t expect people to listen to all of your claims-most of them blindly doing so-and then get upset when people wait for both sides to say their piece, especially when you present no evidence at your initial statement. Again, you have to prove guilt. If you can’t prove it, the accused are allowed to defend themself.

4. You are in no way obligated to accept apologies, but acknowledging one was made-multiple times in fact- is the bare minimum. Trying to change your story one last time to make it seem even worse than what you both agreed upon, and then hiding behind “I’m not going to address this anymore” is manipulative at worst and cowardly at best.

I hope Caiti gets therapy, cause it’s clear she’s been severely affected by something, though I’m not sure she even knows what it is. I also hope she learns from this, and next time utilizes the “direct message” function every single app has. This could have been a dm, and the way it spiraled has been a shitshow and her intentions are coming off less and less pure the more this gets dragged out. I’m so sorry she was uncomfortable, and regretful, but until she shows any proof whatsoever of any assault happening, it will never be. I hope she heals, and I hope she gets better friends cause they have all failed her.

For George, I’m sorry this got blown so out of proportion and no one even privately talked to him about any uncomfortability being felt. I’m sorry his friends are performative. I’m hopeful that he was made aware of things he wasn’t before, and will do better next time. He is not irredeemable, and I believe growth is possible (the difference in his two responses proves as such). I hope this isn’t the last we see of him or his content, and I hope he can heal from this as well.

To my fellow SA survivors, I’m so incredibly sorry that our trauma has been thrown around like this. Our hurt and pain do not deserve to be mocked in this way, and I wish it would’ve never even happened. You’re stronger than what happened, regardless of how shitty this situation has been for us. And as a 24 year old, I like to consider myself a big sister of sorts, so I love all of you. We got through it then, we’ll do it again.

Speaking woman to woman, I’m sorry this has been so messed up. This will make it harder for us to come forward in the future and that is indescribably frustrating. However, that does not take away from the pain and hurt we went through, and I hope if you do have the strength to come forward, you are believed.

I’m done with this whole situation. It should not have come to this point, and if you stayed this far, I greatly appreciate you reading this. One last time. Caiti, I’m sorry you were so uncomfortable. Get therapy, better friends, and take a break from the internet. George, I hope you learn from this situation, and I’m sorry you were made out to be a criminally offensive person before giving your side or anyone ever speaking to you.

I hope you both heal.

I hope sexual assault victims having to relive trauma, and are affected by this continue to heal.

I love you all.

Lex

[ashoss]

Oops you got me going on two of my seven evil hyperfixations (batfam and pjo) so i'm gonna keep going ❤️ I think for Cass it really depends on what aspect of her personality/history you want to focus on! I've always liked Bellona (Roman goddess of war) for her as a connection to her fighting abilities. I feel like she'd have a similar relationship to her mother as Frank Zhang does to Mars. Hades of course for the connection to death. I also like Nike is another good one, especially with how CONFIDENT she is in the comics that she never loses. Like she's so smug about it, i love it!

Actually, if you still want Cass to have a relation to Hades without her being a kid of the big 3, you could have her be a legacy of Hades and have a different god be her other godly parent (like Frank)! Two for one because Cass is that special ❤️

Another one that I've never seen anyone mention, but one that came to me and won't leave my head, is Nemesis. Nemesis is vengeance, yes, but she is also justice and balance, passing judgment where it is and in proportion to what was deserved. Our first introduction to Cass was that she felt so much guilt over killing a man that she felt that the only way to redeem herself was to die. We see this fuel so much of her actions as batgirl, and even though she eventually grew out of that mindset, that really struck me that Cass was someone kind and fair. She values life so much that she couldn't forgive herself for something that wasn't her fault (passing judgment like Nemesis, but inward instead of outward), so now she fights so that others have a right to live and to right what she thinks of as wrongs

Also depending on which origin you use for Diana, the batkids being demigods means that cool aunt diana REALLY IS their aunt now! Or even better, their cool older cousin (which i think would be incredibly funny) LMAO aunt would be if Diana is directly the offspring of Zeus (along with Cassie Sandsmark, who would also technically be Tim's aunt in this case? LMAO) Cousin would be a bit looser, but going the clay doll route, diana could be regarded as being "birthed" by the other gods, or at the very least, is their champion and near-like their child in that way.

akhjds no please keep going!!! you have fantastic takes on this oh my god

god, nemesis Cass is honestly so interesting. i was focusing more on her relationship with fighting and death for some of my other ideas but honestly it makes so much more sense. (and me taking just the justice/retribution for me wanting her to be Jason's mom) but god that makes so much sense i am actually so in love with this take. (hades legacy cass is also sooo good ugh)

and yes!! that is absolutely their aunt Diana!! (when Jason actually gets claimed his first thing is "like wonder woman???") i also think their connection with some of the other Amazonians would be interesting in this case because it could be the cause for the FUNNIEST shenanigans that the other people don't get.

like Tim complaining to Cassie: ugh yeah there was a couple harpies on my way here. they're such a pain to fight.

Cassie: ugh yeah i know.

Kon and Bart: harpies????

or like, "hey Tim why are you covered in gold glitter?

Tim: had to fight a cheerleader.

[butchhamlet]

hi it's me again im the anon who dropped about 800 words about ocd hamlet a couple weeks ago (maybe longer, time has been weird for me lately).. it made me soo happy to see it resonated with you and with some other people who reblogged it as well!! i've been projecting on hamlet ever since i read it and it feels like every time i read it i learn more about him AND me... and ever since Symptoms showed up he's been even dearer to me and im just so glad people like my interpretation as well :)

i hope it's ok for me to do this again because i want to talk about what if lady macbeth has ocd also. and i know this is sort of well. dangerous if that's the right word because 1) lady macbeth IS the villain in her play even if i love her from the bottom of my heart and i support everything she does and ocd is already an incredibly stigmatised and misunderstood 2) hand washing is possibly THE most stereotyped compulsion that sort of epitomises this really warped view of ocd in the public consciousness. i personally do not have handwashing as a compulsion or really any physical compulsions that are direct responses to my intrusive thoughts so i will try to be really really careful when im talking about this. + other disclaimers: again while i have definitely experienced symptoms of ocd i do not know if i have it and i am NOT diagnosed + ocd experiences are different for everyone + you cannot diagnose a character because they are not real + this one is mostly projection and is more a frame of reading than it is an interpretation grounded in textual evidence (esp since i will be talking about the sleepwalking asleep a LOT and she is technically, well. sleeping.) so just. take everything with a pinch of salt and please let me know if i ever overstep!!

im mainly going to be drawing on experiences close to real event ocd even though i know that typically real event ocd is defined by the fact that the sufferer blows their past mistakes way out of proportion and/or question their memories, and i guess i cannot say that lady macbeth’s guilt is completely unjustified because uh. she did kill a man.! but i do think her behaviours after the murder reflects what i’ve seen people speak about online as well as some of the experiences i’ve had. 

guilt as illness

this is more general to the whole play i guess but i wanted to point out how the consequences of the macbeths’ regicide is absolutely portrayed as a disease. there’s a LOT of foreshadowing in lady macbeth’s advice to her husband in the immediate aftermath of their murder: she tells him not to “think / so brain sickly of things”, and says, “these deeds must not be thought / after these ways so, it will make us mad”. (2.ii) the doctor later alludes to “infected minds” (5.i) in relation to lady macbeth’s madness. the fact that the fixation on guilt is seen as an illness i think fits so well with ocd: whenever im having a bad day with intrusive thoughts and mental spirals it genuinely feels like there is something festering in my brain like a parasite feeding on anxiety. 

guilt is also so intrinsically linked to sleep in macbeth: famously macbeth comes out of the king’s chamber ranting about how he may “sleep no more; macbeth doth murder sleep”, and lady macbeth’s obsession pours out of her when she is sleeping (and this is exactly why a doctor is called). i would argue that fucked up sleep is somewhat presented as an illness in ‘macbeth’ too; or if not, at least unnatural. this idea is all over act 2 scene ii (right after macbeth commits the murder) but i think it’s best epitomised in act 3 scene iv: “you lack the season of all natures, sleep.” (lady macbeth) season as in both night-season and seasoning/preservative. so sleep is both a natural part of life, and something that keeps things the way nature or god intended. the doctor says too that disturbed sleep is “a great perturbation in nature” (5.i). nightmares are DEFINITELY depicted as illness: macbeth says that they “sleep / in the affliction of these terrible dreams / that shake us nightly” (3.ii)

insomnia is highly associated with ocd since the obsessions/compulsions prevent sleep and sleep deprivation increases the commonality AND duration of obsession. if a significant portion of your day is spent devoted to obsessions/compulsions, there’s a chance they may become assimilated into intrusive dreams, since dreams are generally regarded as a way that the brain processes memories. thus, we can see that the way guilt in ‘macbeth’ is linked to disturbed sleep parallels how ocd is linked to sleep disorders. so not only is guilt itself an illness in ‘macbeth’, it links to other disorders too

2. withdrawal from dialogue

lady macbeth stops being on equal footing in terms of number of lines with macbeth after the murder. from act 3 she really only responds briefly to what macbeth says, and she’s not even in act 4. i sort of see that as her being dragged under her spiralling thoughts and retreating further and further back into her mind. i know i definitely zone out a LOT more on days where im being absolutely bombarded by intrusive thoughts. she’s definitely disoriented by the begining of act 3:

nought’s had, all's spent, where our desire is got without content. ’tis safer to be that which we destroy, than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy. (3.ii)

the whole soliloquy (if you can even call it that—it’s only 2 couplets) is riddled with paradoxes and confusing wording. her mind is completely scattered and it feels to me as if she’s just been arguing with herself. this might be reaching slightly (as if this entire post isnt kind of reaching already. sorry) but to me it kind of mirrors the absurd leaps of logic my intrusive thoughts and rumination can sometimes take: how can it be “safer” to be destroyed? how can “joy” be doubtful? it doesn’t make sense, and it’s confusing and frightening, but it feels absolutely real. (also note: as you’ve said before ocd is sometimes called the doubting disease. and lady macbeth calls her experience “doubtful”….

3. the mad scene

(disclaimer again i KNOW she is supposed to be asleep the entire time BUT i am going to. sort of. ignore that. sorry</3)

in the beginning of act 5 scene i, lady macbeth’s lady-in-waiting says,

since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her nightgown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon't, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed — yet all this while in a most fast sleep.

i’ve never experienced physical compulsions myself, but this sort of repeated, methodical act matches how i’ve seen people describe them. the doctor specifically calls them “actual performances”, which suggest, i think, something mechanical and dictated in some way; “perform” is definitely a word i’ve seen people use to descrive carrying out compulsions. (do correct me if i’m wrong!)

then let’s look at lady macbeth’s actual speech:

out, damned spot, out, I say. — one, two — why, then, 'tis time to do't. — hell is murky. — fie, lord, fie, a soldier, and afeard! what need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?

the jumping around of her thoughts honestly feels exactly like my mind alternating between intrusive thoughts and desperately trying to justify why they aren’t true. she goes from reflecting on her debillitating guilt, to being anxious about going to hell, to replaying and checking her memories, to reassuring herself (and macbeth) that she won’t get caught, and then to thinking about her guilt again. it’s a rapid-fire, relentless cycle that continues throughout the scene. she’ll jump from reenacting a moment with her husband, to the obsessing over the blood on her hands, then back again. notably, in her address to macbeth, she never seems to be reenacting the exact same moment. she taunts him for his cowardice seemingly before the murder, then pleads with him, saying that “banquo cannot come out his grave”, then goes back to when they are fleeing the crime scene. i think this reflects the sort of distortion of memory that constant memory checking and ocd can cause. the moodswings and the flip-flopping between “everything’s fine” and “i’m going to hell” are also SO intense and honestly it’s exactly what it feels like on my worst days. 

in the entire scene, lady macbeth speaks in prose instead of verse: it’s obviously a sign of madness by itself, but i also think it reflects the complete loss of control she has over her thoughts and actions. in the beginning acts she is all about control: she demands “spirits / that tend on mortal thoughts” (1.v) to do her bidding, she tells macbeth to “leave all the rest to me” (1.v), and she tells him what to do at every moment. but at this point in the play she can’t stop the onslaught of regrets, guilt, and memories, and she can’t even control herself physically.

speaking of the elephant in the room: the excessive handwashing. i think of lady macbeth’s handwashing as less of a reaction to a genuine fear of contamination, but as something more akin to body-repetitive behaviours like skin-picking (dermatillomania) and hair-pulling (trichitillomania, which i think i have) which are associated with ocd.

i sort of headcanon lady macbeth to have absolutely horrible skin splits on her hands (<- this part is complete projection): and so following this interpretation, i think of her handwashing sort of as a form of self-flagellation because rubbing her hands continually will make the skin tear and bleed. (gore tw?) that, then, fits in with the blood on her hands: in her semi-conscious state she thinks it’s duncan’s, when it’s really hers.

i know that another common compulsion is counting: and lady macbeth does count (“one, two—’tis time to do it.”) one of the reasons people with ocd may count (and there are many reasons, this is not the be-all-end-all) is “attaching meaning to particular numbers where certain numbers will induce anxiety, while others will reduce anxiety. for example, if you assign special meaning to the number three, you might count your steps by threes, or lock and unlock your car three times before driving, or any variety of other action ruled by this magic number.” (<- quoted from nocd website)

i also know that repetition of words or phrases is another common compulsion. and these are lady macbeth's final lines:

to bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate. come, come, come, come, give me your hand. what's done cannot be undone. — to bed, to bed, to bed.

4. her death

in your ocd hamlet post, you talked about how hamlet’s death is almost peaceful in his “silence”, and how horatio, despite knowing all his flaws and obsessions, believes wholeheartedly in his salvation. (that honestly means the world to me, by the way, so thank you.) the macbeths went through EVERYTHING together: the planning, the crime itself, the aftermath—it’s clear from their dialogue that at the beginning of their sufferings they saw each other go through sleeplessness, nightmares, and obsession. but over the course of the play, they completely fall apart. (i think the last time macbeth uses “we” to refer to the two of them is to say “we’ll to sleep” and “we are yet but young in deed”, which is the most ironic thing ever.) macbeth’s only response to lady macbeth’s death is “she should have died hereafter.” i honestly don’t know what that means in terms of the ocd reading, or in comparison with horatio's reaction to hamlet's death. i'd love to know what you think.

thanks for bearing with me!! i’m a bit less confident in this reading than i am for ocd hamlet, and it’s more likely i’ll get something wrong about ocd in this one, but sorry i just wanted to unleash this somewhere i hope that’s okay and genuinely please tell me if i say anything wrong or insensitive! i also typed this over 3 hours and went over the text as if this was a homework essay.....? and it is now almost 2am so i’m sorry if this isn’t coherent. i hope you’re having a wonderful day :)

hi same anon here i forgot to put this in but. i listened to verdi macbeth opera mad scene una macchia è qui tuttora the whole time i was writing that thing in case anyone would like to know...... i love it so so much my favourite video recording is by sylvia sass on youtube https://youtu.be/tP59Ox8MdQ4?feature=shared&t=319 AND there are full productions of the opera on youtube as well. thank you so much for reading!!!!

YES.... YES..... YESSSSSSSSSS I LOVE AN OCD LADY MACBETH... IT'S ABOUT THE GUILT IT'S ABOUT THE REPETITION DOES EVERYONE HEAR ME? TODAY WE ARE DOING GUILT AND REPETITION

i have had similar thoughts about the sort of inherent trickiness of it (oh, the lady who washes her hands a lot has ocd? whoa, totally original thought that has nothing to do with pop culture perception of ocd) (and also she did kill a man). but you really said it all with that ksdhfdksnfdsn. i will pitch in that i DO have handwashing compulsions and tbh. i personally think lady macbeth ocd reading is a net win even if it does trail a little close to stereotypes because if you dig even slightly deeper than "haha handwashing" it allows for an examination of ocd not just as an action but also as a manifestation of guilt and illness. which is SO macbeth. the body politic is sick the government is sick!!! again im taking the words right out of your mouth here this ask whips ass

shaking your hand on conceiving of ocd as something parasitical. really feels like there is some Thing up there feeding on my brain. (also on intrusive thought dreams. fucked upppppp like man leave me alone)

AND ON THAT NOTE i feel like even if she is asleep it can still be ocd. i say this with no medical training whatsoever and this isn't, like, me asserting that people actually do compulsions while asleep, but on a narrative level, the emotional processes happening to her character are petty clear even if she's sleepwalking, right. once again no medical training whatsoever

the jumping around of her thoughts honestly feels exactly like my mind alternating between intrusive thoughts and desperately trying to justify why they aren’t true. [...] the moodswings and the flip-flopping between “everything’s fine” and “i’m going to hell” are also SO intense and honestly it’s exactly what it feels like on my worst days.

YEAH. YEAH. YEAH. the ugly intrusive thought -> self-reassurance -> self-reassurance makes it worse -> intrusive thought (harder and worse) spiral. and literally this is EXACTLY what it feels like. me when i accidentally say something rude and then i'm evil for three days. except she killed a man

i sort of headcanon lady macbeth to have absolutely horrible skin splits on her hands (<- this part is complete projection): and so following this interpretation, i think of her handwashing sort of as a form of self-flagellation because rubbing her hands continually will make the skin tear and bleed. (gore tw?) that, then, fits in with the blood on her hands: in her semi-conscious state she thinks it’s duncan’s, when it’s really hers.

YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH. ON AN ANALYTICAL LEVEL AND A PERSONAL LEVEL. LITERALLY THE LEAPS I CAN DO IN MY BEAUTIFUL MIND TO BE LIKE WOW IM JUST LIKE LADY MACBETH (BLOOD ON MY HANDS). YOU N ME BROTHER

and re: her death and the macbeths splintering apart. that is honestly the most painful part of this play for me, as a lover of evil couples and also of their specific dynamic. the fact that they mesh so well at the beginning (i mean, they argue, there's friction, but they're clearly on the same page--they enter their first shared scene both thinking the same thing and a lot of their communication is in implication) and then they just. fragment. and i think with the OCD ladymac reading it's even worse, because the thing about OCD at least in my experience is that. at some point the people around you stop being able to understand what the fuck your problem is. even when they're trying really hard. because it doesn't make any sense! the compulsions don't make logical sense the self-flagellation doesn't make any sense none of it is SOLVING anything but it also does make sense, To You, on a level you cannot really explain to people that don't Get It*. and so like. the macbeths are already breaking apart because of their responses to the murder, and this is just one more thing coming between them. she is trapped in a cage in her brain that he cannot see.

*(i think not infrequently about the overlap between OCD and psychosis; i haven't experienced psychosis and obviously there are major differences, but i relate a lot to what psychotic people have said about, like, the ability to hold multiple contradictory truths at once. my compulsions will not actually stop disasters from happening, but they also will. you could maybe pull in something about macbeth's parallel loss of control + his hallucinations? but i'm not diagnosing macbeth with psychosis necessarily i'm just saying words).

anyway, anon, i am always extremely impressed by your dedication to writing out quotes and coming armed with evidence, and also your analysis fucking bangs. this is such a good ask i need to frame it on the wall your mind is huge. i hope you have a wonderful day as well :)

[aritsukemo]

thank you so very much <3

I wonder how Astolfo feels about a s/o that is taller than him? ): (it's only like 3-4 inches. but still)

I love your work btw!

Astolfo with a s/o who's taller than him

Warnings: None.

A/N: A sudden fever has reduced me to lying in bed instead of going to school today. I know I literally just posted about not completing request, this sense of anxiety bubbling in me has caused me to look for literally any and everyway to come up and out of this writing slump I've been in lately.. I'm sorry this simple request took so long to complete! I also apologize for it being so short, but if it makes you feel better, I had a lot of fun writing for him! 😁 🙏

↪ I perceive Astolfo as someone who's insecure about almost everything, if not everything, about himself which could've possibly stemmed from his survivor's guilt. That said, one of his main insecurities would definitely be his height.

↪ So one could say that he's brought this onto himself. Dating you, I mean.

↪ Astolfo loves you dearly. You've put up with him through thick and thin, after all. That said, he can't help but envy you especially if you're both taller and stronger than him.

↪ Even if you're only a couple inches taller, that's enough of a reason for him to spiral into a sea of self-doubt and deprecation. Heck, I see him being self-conscious about his significant other being the same height as him.

↪ And if you're like six feet or higher? Oh yeah, he's definitely going to be more than a little caught up on comparisons..

↪ Little things get to him very easily. For example, Gano once made a comment about how he looked like a child whenever he stood next to you and now he actively avoids situations where he has to stand even a fraction near you in a public setting.

↪ There was another time during an expedition. The temperature had suddenly dropped and the ground had been painted by white snow. You offered your coat to your boyfriend since your customized uniform allowed you to stay warmer than everyone else, but he declined. As it grew colder, your offer arose more than once but he just wouldn't accept it and in the end, he got a real bad cold. ( You suspect that the reason behind his rejection was because your coat was bigger to accommodate for your size and he didn't want it on him because the contrast would've made him seem smaller than he already is )

↪ Arguments between you two have surfaced that were caused by your height difference. They're usually small, but there have been times where his anger got the best of him and he blew your little back and forth way out of proportion.

↪ On the brighter side, he isn't as reserved or angsty in private! Without eyes on him, he's involuntarily way more relaxed and you can get many things out of him like cuddles, pecks, hugs, and more!

↪ Making accommodations for him is a must! There's rarely ever a time during a cuddle sesh where you're the big spoon. He also won't let you kiss him or initiate any kind of affection that involves you bending down to his level. ( He'd much prefer you being in a position where he has to bend down to your level. That said, the rare times he kisses you are when your sat down and he's standing or when you two are cuddling )

↪ He's a real stickler so anything that makes him seem smaller is a no go between you two. Even something small like helping him up can get a negative reaction from him.

↪ Affirmations can go a long way with him! Astolfo is a sensitive being whether he admits it or not so complimenting him can ease his mind sometimes. Even something like "I like you the way you are," is enough if you spin it the right way! Be warned, though, that Astolfo has a tendency of taking things the wrong way! Saying something like "I think your height is cute," will have a very opposite effect on him than what you intended it to! Even if you mean well, certain things may and will be taken as teasing and he will react very negatively if he thinks you, his significant other, are teasing him.

↪ This may seem odd to some, but sticking up for him may cause him to lash out on you as well. Height aside, Astolfo will assume that you think he can't fight his own battles or that you feel the need to baby him which could lead to a dispute between you two. This doesn't mean he doesn't stick up for you, though! If anyone has anything to say about you while he's around, he will have more than a few words for that person no matter who they are. ( And don't let it be a retched vampire who made a comment because oh boy )

↪ Basically what I'm saying is that although your height can lead to many headaches with Astoflo, you're still his partner at the end of the day. Like I said before, he loves you a lot. You keep him grounded ( kind of like a safe haven ) and even if there are times where he's mocked or teased or his insecurities lead him to do things he isn't very proud of, that love for you won't change or diminish. Not over something silly like a height difference.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[skania]

hi! same anon asking about the bridge- the first one you mentioned. when aqua first broached the subject of breaking up but they didn’t reach a conclusion to that conversation

Hi anon, thanks for the reply!

hi! I really love your analyses on aquakane stuff, so ive been wondering- what do you think about the bridge scene? (past the stuff with aquas guilt- you know, because people elect to ignore it) a lot of fans point towards it to being why aqua and akane don’t work together/aren’t interested, but something feels off to me. wdyt?

I kind of have a lot of thoughts, so this will probably be a bit messy!

Things that stood out to me about this scene, in no particular order:

It confirms that Akane saw through Aqua and knew he wanted to use her for something. This is important because it shows that despite what Aqua may think, Akane didn't stay by his side because he "bind" her to him, but because she chose to. Even more important is the fact that what motivated Akane's choice is that she saw through him and into the kind person he actually is.

Right here Akane is telling him: I see you. I know that you can be manipulative and sly, but I also know that above all—you're kind. This is huge for someone like Aqua, who thinks so little of himself and who blows his own flaws out of proportion.

It's also kind of funny in a sad way, because by this point in the conversation, Aqua was expecting Akane to agree to break up with him. After all, he tried to convince her (and himself) that their relationship wasn't real, and Akane proceeded to list all the ways he was right. You can see in that bottom-right panel above that Aqua is closing himself off, expecting Akane to walk out of his life for good.

And then Akane turns the tables on him because to Aqua's surprise, she wants their relationship to be real. She knows the kind of person that he is, and she still wants to stay by his side.

The funniest thing about this scene though is that Akane, sweet, inexperienced summer child that she is, thinks that they can become a real couple if they're intimate with each other 😭

She knows that normal couples kiss and have sex, so she assumes that's where the problem lies. For her, Aqua wanting to "use" her is a non-issue because she's known and consented to it all along. This is why she looks so confused when Aqua says that he has been deceiving her:

Because as far as she's concerned, she's known Aqua's intentions from the get-go 😂 Little does she know that she isn't talking to your typical hormonal teenage boy, but to one who has the mind of an adult.

That said, I do think that the way Akane is fine being intimate with Aqua despite thinking that Aqua doesn't like her that way is an issue. Once again, this reflects what I mentioned before: Akane doesn't know her own worth! But again, this isn't a problem born out of Aqua and Akane as a dynamic, but an issue that Akane herself has.

Moving on, I think this is the first scene that shows that there's a difference in the amount of (romantic) experience that Akane and Aqua have. Usually, when Aqua and Akane have scenes, they're pretty much equals. You wouldn't say that one is mentally behind the other. In this case though, you can definitely see that Akane has an innocence to her that Aqua has already lost during his life as Goro, but that's to be expected. What's really important here though is that despite this difference, Aqua isn't any closer to understanding romantic love.

So in that regard, he and Akane are actually closer than one may expect.

Moving on, I think Aqua's and Akane's conversation there does give Aka an outing if he decides to go for platonic AquaKane. Ironically, this outing isn't there because of Aqua; at the contrary, Aqua's behavior there would help set up a romantic AquaKane ending.

First, we're shown that Aqua does want to keep Akane in his life, he just talks himself out of it because of his guilt complex.

We're even shown Aqua trying to convince himself (and Akane) that their relationship isn't real.

Now, this could all be perfectly platonic in nature, but we later have Aqua admitting that he has thought of being intimate with Akane.

So, Aqua wasn't trying to break up with Akane because of the way he felt for her, but because of his guilt and for Akane's sake.

Aqua thinks Akane doesn't have romantic feelings for him, and Akane herself doesn't seem to know if she does because he is her first boyfriend.

Of course, we know that Aqua and Akane find their answer during the trip and that they decide to date for real, which suggests that their feelings for each other are indeed romantic. However, nothing is stopping Aka from revisiting that and going: Actually, they thought they were/could be romantic, but they'd be perfectly fine being friends too. Specially because Akane wanting to save Aqua doesn't hinge on Akane being in love with him, and same goes for Aqua wanting to protect Akane.

The thing is, though: that doesn't mean that Aqua and Akane don't work well together. I feel that some people try to deny any romantic involvement between them not only to shoot them down as a ship, but to shoot their dynamic down all together. But that's a moot point because the series has made it very clear that Aqua and Akane love each other. Whether their feelings for each other are romantic or platonic is besides the point: there is love between them and it's sincere, and it won't be any less important if it turns out to be platonic in nature.

Case in point, the bridge scene is great because it shows their care for each other. Aqua tried to let Akane go for her own good, meanwhile Akane wants to stay by his side not only because of the way she may or may not feel for him, but because she sincerely wants to help him. She doesn't want Aqua to carry his burdens alone anymore.

Aqua appreciates this, and he opens up to her. She is the first person he shares his troubles with, and Akane lends him a listening ear and acknowledges how hard it must have been on Aqua. Aqua dealt with it on his own from the get-go and we never saw him complain, but it must have been hard on him and it's great to have someone acknowledge that even if he won't acknowledge it himself.

Everything he can tell Akane, he shares. From his findings, to his feelings.

And I think the panels above are the most important ones, because this is the moment when Akane starts to realize that Aqua has been lying to himself all along. He doesn't want to have revenge, he wants to be free. And in true Aqua fashion, now he is blinding himself to the very obvious loophole because he is that desperate to be free.

Akane gets this and she acts accordingly. Unlike Ichigo, who royally messes up by completely overlooking the fact that Aqua was desperately clinging to that loophole to break free.

Ichigo realizes it too late and he breaks Aqua. Akane wants to keep Aqua from breaking, so she plays along knowing that being free is what Aqua truly wants.

I'm stopping myself here because it feels like I've been rambling forever and I don't even know if this was half-way coherent or if it addressed what you wanted me to talk about anon, sorry about that! lol

[chthonic-cassandra]

Tagged by @awildwickedslip

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

111

2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

312,131

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I write a little across a lot of fandoms. The only fandoms for which I have written substantial amounts are Dracula, Greek mythology, and Shakespeare's plays. I have active projects right now in Dracula, Xena, and Penny Dreadful.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Shattered Mirrors (Jonathan in Dracula's castle), Make It Through the Wintertime (Hadestown Persephone character study), To Burn the Castle Down (Jonathan angst), Compromise (Dracula darkest timeline AU), Minor Initiations (different Dracula darkest timeline AU)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I have been trying to get in the habit of it. I think it's nice to express my appreciation and try to be a bit more social about all of it.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

This is a hard question; so, so many of the things I write are angsty. Specifically as far as endings, I am realizing that an extremely high proportion of my stories end with a character aware that they are about to die or that something else terrible is about to happen to them, and in some way accepting it. This is of course tragedy but I'm not sure it is quite angst.

Outside of this pattern, I think that To Burn the Castle Down is almost over the top angsty (it's not one I like to reread), as is For Every Grief That's Offered (yet another Dracula darkest timeline AU). Both are from ~15 years ago, and I would write them differently now.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Ha. Do I write happy endings? Sometimes I do bittersweet hopefulness, of which I think Fidelity (poly Mina post-canon) and Still in the Realm of the Sun (Code Name Verity Julie/Maddie fix it) lean most heavily on the sweet side. The Caucus-Race (Alice in Wonderland, the Dodo enters politics) is legitimately happy.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not to my face for a long time, at least not in a serious way.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do not.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Not much. Many years ago I did a couple - a Dracula-Greek mythology and a Dracula-Vampire Chronicles, and also a little Nosferatu-Pied Piper of Hamelin which is the only one of those still up.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes - someone translated Foreigners (Aida, Amneris character study) into Mandarin. There might have been another but I don't remember it.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

No, though I once told @forthegothicheroine I would and then bailed on her, for which I continue to feel some guilt

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

To write, certainly Mina/Dracula/Jonathan. But that's not from an actually shipping it perspective. What I tend to write and what I ship when reading or watching something aren't all that related.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Mood, imagery, psychological interiority, small-scale structure/pace

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Smut, happy endings, writing anything long form

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I wouldn't feel comfortable doing it in a language that I didn't myself know, and the only non-English language I know well enough to do that in is ancient Greek, which I guess I could use somewhere but it hasn't felt necessary. Several installments of Compromise have important scenes of switching between languages so I've thought about it, but keeping all the text in English let me do a particular language-related reveal in this last installment which pleased me.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Either Lord of the Rings or Phantom of the Opera

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Right now it has to be Compromise as a whole, but this is hard. There are a lot of other things I've written that haven't gotten as much attention as that one but which are very dear to me, but as a series Compromise means so much to me at the moment.

Too tired right now to tag anyone, but please consider yourself tagged if you'd like to do it!

[perpetual-canon]

Perpetual Canon Chapter 1. Light in The End of The Rabbit Hole

before / 11. reversed Taken / next where it started / navigation / about the story

That feeling when you lose your step dad after you already lost him in a teenage rebellion.

OR: Unwrapping 50 Levels of Guilt and Other Fun Activities for You and Your Family (The Flashback).

day 1

He’s not down for dinner, but Noodle doesn’t notice. She hasn't left her semi basement room for any type of evening meal in weeks and she will not be doing that until her mini-fridge runs out of supplies, and that’s just how it is.

day 3

She tends to skip lunches in the kitchen too, and Muds is never up or coherent enough when she swings by for breakfast.

This is not intentional, really. (That’s what Noodle would say, if anyone questioned her about it.) “We just live on different schedules”, she would probably add after that. “Whole time zones apart”.

It’s been years and no one ever once asked her why some days she barely sees her family. But Noodle still keeps the answer fresh and ready in her mind. Just in case.

She doesn’t even know Murdoc is not home.

day 5

Stu is in the living room and he’s pacing. He says that he’s fine, and that he’s okay, and that he’s grateful for a breather, and that it’s too early to worry anyway.

“Well it’s 6pm, and already getting dark”, Noodle notes airily.

“So his evening bar run is just starting”, adds Russ.

Noodle stays for dinner this evening.

Murdoc doesn’t come back.

day 6

Russ says Murdoc’s voice message box is full.

Would Muds be disappointed or sad that only five of those messages were from her, Noodle wonders.

"It has happened before”, she says to herself, mindlessly scrolling through the phone apps. “He’ll be back soon, maybe hungover, definitely apologetic, and will immediately fall asleep on the couch and-”.

He doesn’t come back that day either.

day 7

It’s the fourth time Noodle gets a phone call from this number. There’s an equal chance of it being a stalker, or a bar owner asking to pick up the trash-man from a sidewalk couple blocks over.

“Ugh, thank Satan, finally!” sighs Murdoc’s voice on the other side. “This is urgent, it’s the second day I’m trying- you know what, doesn’t matter. Ha-hah…” he cuts himself, suddenly sounding nervous. “Listen, I’m in prison and-”

Noodle hangs up.

day 8

She doesn’t get another call until noon. It makes sense – two attempts each day at the same time. She’s tempted to test it, to decline the first call, just because she can, her finger hovering over the red button.

Noodle hits the green one at the ninth loop of the bubbling melody.

First thing she hears is a relieved sigh. “Before you say anything – I’m sorry! But I am also not sorry at all, because, hear me out, it’s different this time“.

“And how so?” Her voice is more distant than tired.

“I’m not guilty”.

She hangs up.

day 8 still

He has called again of course. Explained how he couldn’t reach his lawyer, and “fuck her honestly”, because he “needs heavy artillery on this anyway”. Because, apparently, his case is already going to trial. And, somehow, he still was not sure what he was being accused of.

“They keep saying it’s “smuggling charges” but smuggling of what? How in the bloody hell this case on me was opened for what? Months? And I’m just finding out about it? They say I’ve missed all initial hearings, Noods, it smells bad all over, and I’m not speaking only about my lovely cell here”.

And it does really look bad. If he isn’t lying or exaggerating, of course. Wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe this is a simple misconduct charge blown out of proportion to excuse him running away for a while?

Still, yesterday Noodle found the worn looking card in the pocket of Murdoc’s old jacket, and called the K.D. number for him. He must feel really worried if he’s hiring this one. Noodle doesn’t know much about K.D., but “the best lawyer for the worst situations” rumor about her was low key circulating celebrity circles for quite some time now.

Noodle decides to wait until dinner before telling Russ and Stu.

“See, D? Knowing him, he’ll be back in two days, and twice as annoying as ever”, huffs Russel. Stuart doesn’t say anything, just sits down on the couch looking deep in thought. Way back in the days, when Stu got like this, Noodle would climb over the back of that couch to sit with him, and they’d end up playing video games until one of them fell asleep or they woke up Russel with lots of incoherent screaming.

But this was way back. In the Days.

Today-Noodle waves Stu goodnight and crawls to her room to pick on guitar and scroll the news feed ‘till 4am.

day 11

He doesn’t come back.

day 12

Noodle calls the number on her incoming calls list, and gets an unhelpful intern who seems to be first week on the job. She calls the local precinct and the closest prison and Murdoc is not there either. But nearly an hour of all “pleasestayonhold”s later she finally gets to a competent sounding official. Who, with automatic practised detachment, chatters that trial went smoothly and without a hitch, and Murdoc F. Niccals is currently being processed into prison next town over to serve his sentence, visitation will be available in a couple days after he is settled, thanks for understanding and cooperation.

 “And how long is that sentence?” Noodle tries to ask, but they already hang up.

She sits in the dark for a while after that, petting Katsu and thinking about nothing. Then she gets up and goes up to the kitchen for dinner.

Better if they learn the news from her than from, well. The news.

day 13

She keeps thinking though. 

Stuart went to his room last night looking absent. Even farther away than usual. But he didn’t ask Noodle anything, and didn’t comment on how strange the whole thing looks. He gave up, she saw it in the line of his shoulders and in the little rub Stu gave to his neck, to ease the oncoming migraine. Like all these days, right from the start, he just waited for the permission to stop waiting.

He just. Nodded and left. Like that was it.

Only a whole day and a broken kitchen cabinet later Noodle got that she is still angry.

Both of them just believed it, right away. When it all really sounds like total bullshit dropping out of the blue. She just hung up, and never called back, like there was no actual trial coming up, and there was no hint of real worry in Murdoc’s voice.

He hasn't asked her for help in ages. Not even once since she came back. So if he finally did… maybe it means something?

In the evening Noodle finds the stylish worn looking card again and makes an appointment with K.D.

day 20

She doesn’t see Stu much these days. He is in and out – of himself and the club in the city. She misses the times she could distract him from any worries. Or talk to Russ about hers.

Noodle looks over the business card again: K.D. in cursive with illuminati looking eye-logo over it, fax and phone number, and an email.

Murdoc’s visitation rights and phone-call time, she is informed, got revoked due to some “incident”.

This lawyer is her only lead for now.

day 21

K.D. is a pleasant looking woman past the prime of her youth. She walks and speaks like a person who always knows what she’s doing, and Noodle likes it. She likes it a lot. But she doesn’t like the things K.D. is saying to her.

“It was a good deal”, and here is one of those things. “He could’ve gotten a lot of time off his sentence, if he didn’t ditch it on a spot”. K.D. gives Noodle an all too understanding look of anyone who met Murdoc Niccals in person. “But don’t worry. I’ve got where I am for a reason, and despite Mr. Niccals’s attempts of self-sabotage, I navigated us to the best case scenario in the end”.

“With him in prison?” Noodle can’t help herself.

“Oh, I understand the distress, sometimes being family makes this harder to accept”, her smile is so professional it almost looks compassionate.

“But that was never a case he could’ve walked away from. Not at this point at least. If only he’d called me in sooner, we maybe could’ve thoroughly worked around some of the evidence… But alas”.

Noodle thinks it over for a second. “So you’re saying that he’s guilty”.

“Oh, I certainly do not”, K.D. waves her off, red nails flashing in the dim glow of the table lamp, “but it’s not a conversation you should be having with me”.

The following pause lingers a bit too long to be comfortable.

“So. Do you work cases like this one often?” Noodle tries, hoping to not come off as dismissive.

“Oh, on the backstage of Hollywood and so on? Regularly. But this one was actually a breather, pretty clean work. Usually”, she looks away for a second, something like pride or longing flashing by in her gaze, “I land way more challenging jobs”.

Noodle heard about some of them in passing and from recent late night googling. About murder charges being dropped and alleged drug dealers going free. She probably will never hear about a lot worse stuff at all, because, yes, apparently, K.D. is that good.

It just didn’t mean anything good for her reasons to believe in Murdoc.

day 25

She wants to stop thinking about it.

Noodle lays on her futon and Katsu purrs under her arm, and it still doesn’t really make sense. Him being gone. Or guilty. Or it really actually does, but she’s not quite there yet, with everyone else who sees it so clearly. They all have their “evidence” and their “experience”, and maybe she just needs some of this stuff of her own.

Katsu gives a surprised meow when Noodle sits up, scooping her up for some cuddles.

She’s going to look into it, snoop around, and figure everything out.

Who knows, maybe she’ll find more reasons to stay up for dinner along the way.

day 29 

Evidence refuses to be found.

Noodle goes through Mudses room, through his contact list on the second phone, his secret contact list in the notes app, and in the hardcover notebook, and her own stash of burner phones. She gets nothing, apart from one really questionable flirty line and couple addresses.

Stu seems to be staying at home longer lately, and at the very least it calms Noodle a bit. She puts all her upcoming plans on hold, and digs out the pink hoodie from the bottom of the closet.

It’s her time to go clubbing it seems. --- before / next

[starknature]

I'll update this post daily because I don't want to keep posting over and over 💀

Day 1: Stats

SW: 98lbs? I might have realized I had a problem a bit before that but I genuinely don't remember.

HW: 115lbs, I was 15/16 and Jesus given my proportions it was so bad.

Lw: 82.5

Current weight is 84

BMI: 14.9.

I want to at least get down to 80lbs but I'll take as low as I can get and still be able to maintain my job.

Day 2:

I'm 5'3", and no, I do not. Too short lol, causes intense dysphoria.

Day 3:

They're similar to my build, just thinner. They don't have the extra fat I do. I think these pictures are my favourite thinsp0

Day 4: my greatest fear is that I'll have to quit for my job, or that I'll be forced to recover if my family notices.

Day 5: I first wanted to lose weight because I have very round features, I have a round face, its all very feminine. I can't medically transition right now where I live, and I'm more angular and masculine looking when I'm thinner. Boobs are made of fat, the women in my family carry their weight around the middle and in the hips and I refuse to gain anymore, and I need to lose what I've got. I'm not a woman and it's throwing off my silhouette. It's gotten to the point where I now realize I'm fat regardless, and especially where I carry it is unacceptable and unnecessary.

Day 6: I don't think that my binging technically fits the criteria because at most I eat a couple to a few hundred calories over my limit, but I do feel in the moment like I can't stop, and it's still going over my limit so I count it as binging.

Day 7: I know my mom knows to some extent, but I don't have to worry about her doing anything about it because I don't live with her. Noone else really notices, fortunately, except for my brother that recognized it because of his own eating disorder.

Day 8: I have chronic pain so I don't exercise much outside of work, I'll go on long walks though when my joints let me out of the house💀 at work I'm running back and forth across a store and carrying heavy crap, and it's a mile away from the house so that helps with getting my steps in.

Day 9: my curves, chubby face and where I carry fat around my hips heavily contribute to my misgendering, although not the sole reason. Family members also used to make comments frequently.

Day 10: DR. PEPPER!!! THE DIET/0 SUGAR TASTES LIKE CRAP. Also my Autistic Comfort Food™️ dollar spicy ramen bowl. I'd eat one every day istg, half the time I'd omad it but literally a month before I relapsed hard, the guilt got to be too much LMFAO

Day 11: I don't necessarily have a favourite thinspo blog? But I do keep up with DecomposedMoon on twt.

Day 12: Sometimes 100cal oatmeal with flax seeds, I'll eat rice cakes with a little whipped strawberry cream cheese, those 70cal protein buffalo tuna salad packs, idk. I'm just getting into making shakes and I ordered vanilla protein powder so excited about that.

Day 13: I'm trying to mainly eat healthy foods but am definitely restricting more than is considered healthy, so an unhealthy way.

[mavspeed]

Heyo! Just wanted to come thank you again for the awesome chapter and wish you well. I was completely blown away by chapter 7 and the way you keep giving these little pieces of the puzzle that is IceMav’s relationship but not so much that we can put it together all the way. You have to keep coming back and then think about how both characters might have experienced the same moment in different ways, if that makes sense. You really play in the unreliable narrator so well and I am living for it. Like I always want to believe that the narrator is telling the truth and to an extent they are because that’s how they experienced and understood what was happening but they don’t realize their perception is being marked or shadowed by their past experiences and/or biases. It the best thing because I live for multiple perspectives so it’s like that scene character A took it this way while Character B understood this way. It’s great, phenomenal, one of my absolute favorite writing techniques.

I do have a couple questions though if you don’t mind and feel free to take as much time responding as you want. Do the flyboys really blame Ice for what happened or is that his guilt and terrible self worth talking? Like I know you mentioned Slider not talking to him for a bit after the break up but do they understand that both Maverick and Iceman fucked up? Also can you perhaps explain a little more why Maverick felt so hurt? Your writing really made me feel the emotions during these scenes but I have been having a hard time wrapping my head around some stuff. I am very slow on the uptake and can’t always make connections as to why people get upset about certain things. Was he hurt that Ice had been keeping secrets and denying the validity of their relationship to Ice’s family? Upset that Ice was no longer bringing him to the parties? I totally understand if you can’t reveal any of these answers yet or if you just want to point towards a certain chapter for these answers, then that works too.

Ok I think I have word vomited enough to you and hope you have a great rest of the week. Thanks again so much for the update and all your hard work because 16000 words is no joke.

hiiii this is such a lovely lovely comment thank you so so much! seriously I always greatly appreciate it when people express that they like my writing style bc I hate it most days lmfjjdks❤️❤️

as for your questions! do the flyboys really hate ice for what happened- nope, they don’t. it’s mostly his guilt talking bc he genuinely feels terrible still for how he handled the end to their relationship (although Mav had a hand to play in it too 👀)

the slider thing is honestly ice blowing it way out of proportion. here’s the thing- slider could only hear about what happened from one person only, and that was ice, since the other one cut off all communication and went cold turkey on them. he hears ice blame himself and runs with the facts. except he doesn’t have two sides to the story and ice is skewing the account of it too much in Mav’s favour! plus, slider was Also hurt by mav’s isolation, and he unknowingly puts the blame on ice. and you have to admit, it sounds pretty bad from ice’s pov only. lying to mav for 9 months and then cold shouldering him for one more month? WHEW. anyone would be a little Yo Dude What The Fuck after hearing that. but yeah, after a while slider comes to his senses and realises he was being unfair to ice. ice just keeps thinking slider is mad at him until one day slider comes up to him and is like dude chill I’m not mad 😭

ALSO DONT SELF-FLAGELLATE that honour belongs only to icemav!! you can ask me anything seriously I don’t mind answering stuff!! you are absolutely not slow on the uptake sometimes I leave a little too much subtext in my fic lmao. for the mav thing: he wasn’t hurt about the parties in any way, he hates them 💀 but yeah, he’s that hurt because ice lied to him in a massive, massive way- and again, for NINE MONTHS.

at this point, he just wanted a little bit of clarity and openness from ice. like ice has refused to tell him about his family for so long and this lie sort of... toppled the deck of cards lmao. it’s got mav thinking- does he care about me as much as I do for him? or have I been reading this wrong and I am just a warm body for him?

you can argue that it is a little bit hypocritical of mav to be all You Lied To Me! when mav has Also been lying to ice and downplaying the severity of some stuff in his past + goose-related trauma. but at the same time, lying about your family, telling them you dumped your boyfriend, going to parties and putting up the appearance of a single man... it’s wild! it’s crazy! and that’s why he got so upset.

(this is getting way too long of an answer once again) but anyway, all this gets hashed out in a proper conversation/screaming argument between them... eventually. their second go of it won’t be so disastrous, I promise 🙏🏼

[merryfortune]

White Dresses with Zippers

Written for Femslash February 2024 and my Yu-Ri-Oh! GL Dictionary Challenge

Day 12. Dress

Title: White Dresses with Zippers

Ship: Dressshipping | Akari/Kotori

Word Count: 2,233

Universe: ZeXal - Canon Compliant

Rating: T

Tags: Post-Canon, Inappropriate Crushes, Age Difference, Aged Up Characters, Established Relationship, Fluff, Alcohol, Drunken Confessions, Getting Together, Marriage, LGBTQ Themes

   The first time Kotori knew she liked girls was when she was fourteen.

   Prior to that, she hadn’t really taken much notice in things like romance. The opposite gender. Or, apparently, the same gender. She was really, truly one of those girls who put friendship first but then puberty kicked into high gear she supposed. Took long enough. She’d been having periods on and off since she was twelve.

   But she was fourteen when she realised that she didn’t just like any girl, she liked a girl she couldn’t have. She liked… women. She liked Tsukumo Akari. And aside from being her best friend’s older sister, there was that way big age gap and the fact that the moment which crystallised her attraction was when Akari was getting ready for a date.

   With some guy.

    She had met him at a coffee shop, they got chatting and learned they were both journalists, and it just spiralled from there. Blah, blah, blah. Kotori didn’t really care. Not when jealousy made her hot under the collar and attraction in general made it even hotter.

   Akari had just asked a favour and now Kotori was the one who was blowing it out of proportion.

   All Akari had asked was, “Hey, Kotori, do you mind zipping me up?”

   As she asked, she turned around slightly so Kotori could see not quite the full snapshot of her back but enough to know that she liked what she saw. In fact, she really liked it. Her hands went sweaty, her knees knocked as she saw a sparse spatter of freckles, the way Akari’s shoulderblades jutted out, a couple knots of her vertebra. 

   Her dress was done up as much as she possibly could on her own. Part of her dress splayed out the side: it was pretty form fitting and yet wrong, somehow. Like it didn’t fit her body type and thus gave the impression of being right of the rack, picked last minute for something special. The fabric was white with splashes of red and orange.

   The zipper was in the middle of it. Innocuous and yet the whole point of it, with silver teeth.

   “Well?” Akari prompted Kotori as she held her hair out of the way, peering back over her shoulder at her. “I’d ask Yuma but let’s face it, he’d somehow get his fingers stuck in the zipper.” She finished her sentence with a laugh.

   One Kotori chimed in with, agreeing, “True, true.” she giggled and she snapped out of how awestruck she was with Akari’s back.

   She stepped closer and finished zipping her up. It was easy and yet, her heart raced out of her chest. She licked her lips and found herself… Thinking something bad. Something inappropriate.

   Kotori was completely and utterly stricken by an urge to kiss Akari right there, in the middle of her defined shoulder blades, atop her pale brown freckles. The thought alone made Kotori sizzle with hormones but guilt too.

   What was she thinking?! Akari was a girl. No, she was a woman. Seven year age gap, remember? And she wasn’t just any girl-woman, she was her best friend’s older sister. That was a whole ‘nother layer of taboo and wrongness.

   Yet for how wrong it felt, it felt right, too…

   “Thanks Kotori, you're the best.” Akari said when Kotori had finished.

   Kotori stepped back, shuffling, dragging her feet. “No problem at all.” she replied. “Good luck on your date.”

   “Aw, you're so sweet.” Akari said. “You’re just like the little sister I always wanted. See you later.”

   Yup. There it was. Unmistakable proof and confirmation in Kotori’s mind that this was not meant to be. Surely her own feelings were just a flight of fancy. Akari just stated, in no uncertain terms, she saw her as a little sister. Nothing more but at least nothing less.

   However, as Kotori stepped back, her crush didn’t lighten up. Not a couple hours later, when she was still thinking about how fit and beautiful Akari’s back was nor a couple days later. It really only eased up when Kotori realised it wasn’t just Akari. It was girls in general.

   But she did have a preference, Kotori noticed fairly often. She liked them butch, or at least butchy. The athletic types, the jocks, the ones that, well, reminded her of Akari in some way. It looked like baby’s first crush really set the tone for what Kotori would discover about herself when it came romance.

   Her attraction - her bisexuality, as it were - blossomed more over the years as she added a bit more height to herself, gained more curves and love handles, too. She dated guys and she dated girls, here and there. Occasional dates that never entered “boyfriend” or “girlfriend” territory. Except for Rio but even that sputtered out eventually, years down the track and they decided that they were better off as just friends. 

   And Kotori wasn’t the only one who happened to have no luck in their life of love.

   As it were, so was Akari.

   Between going to university and getting a job and moving up in the world, neither really saw much of each other. Kotori never stopped being Yuma’s friend but she did stop being in the periphery of Akari’s world. She had done very much the same thing as Kotori. She grew up, moved out, went up in the world of her selected career but she never got that much traction outside of it. Her social life was pretty dry.

   Akari had always dreamed of eventually settling down but she was in her early thirties now. Time was ticking and just when she gave up, Kotori came back into her life. Kotori who still had plenty of time on her own biological clock and could therefore still afford to be picky but the heart wanted what the heart wanted.

   Her first crush turned out to be something more upon confession.

   It was a silly night. Yuma’s birthday was next week and they were already pre-gaming it by getting the gang back together again. There were drinks and there was dancing and Akari was there as chaperone, right up until Kotori’s lips got a little bit too loose.

   They were hanging out at their table. Sukiyaki burned on the chargrill in front of them and salad bowls looked pretty sad at their wayside as the conversation bounced around. It was Kotori, Anna, and Akari at this table. Rio was using the powder room. The boys were playing pool adjacent to them and from the sounds of things, Yuma was losing pretty bad to the lethal combo of Kaito and Ryouga.

   “So how did you know you were bisexual?” Anna asked. “If you ever told me that story, I’ve forgotten.”

   “Well,” Kotori slurred and she made eye contact with Akari who was sober across the table, “I had a gigantic crush on Akari and since it was so random, I just knew it had to be real.”

   “H-Huh? Pardon?” Akari squeaked.

   “Yup. It's true. D’you remember? When you asked me to zip up your dress?” Kotori asked.

   In her moment of frazzle, Akari had to wrack her brains but she nodded.

   “I was just overwhelmed, like, really overwhelmed by the urge to kiss you.” Kotori confessed. “An’, truth be told, I still do. You… are… smokin’.”

   “You are drunk.” Akari laughed.

   “I triple dog dare you to kiss.” Anna egged Kotori on, leaning down and Akari laughed.

   “You are drunk, too.” she wailed.

   “What’d I miss?” Rio asked as she returned from freshening up.

   “Just your ex-girlfriend trying to mack on Akari.” Anna summed up the last couple minutes.

   Rio looked like she could have short-circuited but at the same time, this wasn’t information new to her. She had dated Kotori for crying out loud! Of course she knew who her OG girl crush was.

   Kotori, meanwhile, looked proud as punch. Guilty as charged. But the conversation moved on from there as Rio sat down.

   However, as it were, drunk actions - words included - were sober thoughts. Because mortified, Kotori did remember that part of the night but she kind of wished she hadn’t. She also wished Anna hadn’t either because her good morning text was as follows:

   “Hey birdie, did you bang Yuma’s sister or nah?”

   The answer was no.

   Then twenty minutes later, Anna replied to Kotori’s very blunt text, “Well, you should. Make your childhood dream come true.”

   And honestly… She wasn’t wrong. But that didn’t make her right either.

   Kotori steeled her nerves and she texted Akari. She asked if she wanted to meet up sometime. For coffee. Something Akari can’t say no to even if she really wanted to because at the same cafe that she’d been dumped at by that guy she’d gone and bought a brand new, red and white dress for, she said as much to Kotori.

   This time, Akari didn’t make the mistake of wearing a cocktail dress at noon for this date. She nursed her coffee - black, Americano - whilst Kotori sipped on a frozen caramel abomination with whipped cream as tall as the cup.

   “I’ve been pursued by older guys before, Kotori…” Akari said. “At the time, it made me feel special. I was a teenager and I was wrong. I… I really don’t want to have done that to some other girl.” She awkwardly stepped around the whole mess with Charlie. The clarity of being thirty-something hurt.

   “You haven’t.” Kotori assured her. “I just had a dumb kid crush. My gay awakening. Like trust me, I knew you saw me as nothing more than Yuma’s friend or like a younger sister.”

   “Good, good…” Akari mumbled and she had a sip of her coffee. She made a face. Kotori didn’t know if it was because her drink was too strong tasting or if it was because of her.

   “Does it feel weird?” Kotori asked. “Being asked out by me? Like, if this isn’t going to work, you don’t need to sugarcoat it or wrap me up in cotton wool.”

   “Well there’s the conundrum…” Akari confessed. “I kinda like it. Being the older one, the pursued one… You are real sweet and real pretty, Kotori. I want to try at the very least. See if there’s a spark because it's kind of an honour to be someone’s gay awakening.”

   Kotori’s heart fluttered and she felt young again. Like, actually young. Little baby bisexual young again and she smiled like a fool. They didn’t kiss after that. Akari wasn’t ready but they did arrange to go on a second date which was all the oxytocin hit that Kotori needed.

   A second date involved cocktail dresses, funnily enough. And the third date had them in pyjamas. The fourth and fifth date were casual clothes affairs and by the sixth date, they stopped counting their dates but it involved hiking clothes, for reference.

   Turns out there was a spark. It just wasn’t the wildfire that Akari was used to - which was a good thing.  Meanwhile for Kotori, it tumbled into more and more, building up like a snowball. Something that hadn’t happened to her before because connections for her tended to be fleeting. Flitting away once the initial attraction and honeymoon phase faded. Together, they found a strength and rhythm that they hadn’t had in previous relationships with other people.

   It was only inevitable that they would get married - or close enough. Akari didn’t want an official and formal tie. It just wasn’t her style. Kotori was happy enough with a big party to make it memorable, to have a date they could always mark out as the day they committed to each other in the eyes of the law. It was romantic.

   She also just loved an excuse to dress up and there was none as fanciful as a wedding.

   “Isn’t it unlucky for the bride to see her partner before the wedding?” Akari asked.

   “Maybe.” Kotori said. “But it's all good. We have something new, something blue, something borrowed. It’ll even out. Now, do you mind helping me with my zipper?”

   Akari chuckled, “So that’s why you had Yuma send for me from the other dressing room.”

   “Well, you know, he might get his fingers stuck in the zip if he tried to help. He’s just doing his best man duties by fetching you.” Kotori flirted.

   “Alright, I’ll help.” Akari said.

   “Yay.” Kotori cheered without raising her voice.

   Her hair was done up in a bun with a circlet embedded into the base of it, it glimmered here and there. She sat side-saddle on a velvet stool, fussing with the long drapery of her gorgeous white dress which was as pure as mountain snow. It had a sweetheart cut and a zip on its back that hadn’t even been attempted to have done up.

   She wasn’t wearing a bra either, Akari noticed as she knelt down. Her slacks pulled at her knees as she bent down. She had kind of sworn off dresses somewhere along the way… Funny that.

   “You are beautiful, Kotori,” Akari said as she kissed Kotori’s bird-thin shoulder blades, “I am so lucky to have you.” Her lips grazed along her pale skin.

   Kotori’s heart fluttered, “I love you, too.”

   “But we really should be saving this for our vows, huh?” Akari joked as she zipped Kotori up, relishing the sound of the zipper moving upwards.

[rcksmith]

Mine — Kaz Brekker

(photo not mine)

Requests: “9 from the fluff prompts with Kaz brekker please? It could be where they're keeping it a secret and it slips out? Thanks”

“Could you possibly do a kaz brekker and reader imagine where they are both like in their mid twenties. Number 9 from the fluff prompts “So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?" "No, that girl is my wife”, I could just imagine him with the smuggest grin saying it. Your a very good writer and thank you if you decide to write this.”

“Could I get a kaz brekker x reader secret relationship with fluff prompts 5, 7, 12, and 14 please?”

Fluff prompts:

5. ”Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.”

7. “I feel like i cant breathe when i’m around you.”

9. “So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?!" "No, that girl is my wife!”

12. “I’m not jealous! Its just...you’re mine!”

14. “I don’t like to pretend we’re not together.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of fights, mention of post-traumatic stress, fluff too.

Word count: 2k.

A/N: Thank you💖 I hope you guys like. I changed some details a little, hope you don't mind

Normal Rules. Smut Rules.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you❤️

— — — —

Fissure. That's what mercenaries, thieves, assassins and his enemies were looking for. A fissure to drive Kaz Brekker to ruin. Burn his empire, wood for wood, until there is nothing left but funeral ashes swept away by the winter wind. Even the most infinitesimal fissure would ensure that his enemies infiltrate, like hungry parasites, into the heart of the dungeon of his deepest secrets. Swallowing, absorbing, any hint of what could do the infamous the Bastard of the Barrel down to his own knees.

And Kaz Brekker feared that if they looked into the most secluded corner of his dungeons, where it was reserved to hide the greatest truths of his soul, they would find the one only thing to beg on his knees for would be something he would do without hesitation.

You.

You were like the last summer solstice in a world ruled by darkness, cold and empty. Which he kept in a chest locked with seven chains.

If he had to describe you with the five senses, Brekker would remind that, when he was in the bitter cold of the ocean, clutching the stiffness of dead and putrefying flesh like a lifeboat, a ray of sunshine, warm as the summer, it opened up through the thunderclouds and came down to his face, warming that spot of skin like a kiss from the sun.

And it would be with that memory that he would describe you.

Kaz Brekker shouldn't have fallen in love with you. He was the person who most understood the disastrous consequences if he let himself get carried away by the way his heart sped up whenever he saw you. If he allowed herself to taste the way all of your heat radiated into his body and made him feel alive. But he fell in love.

Everything was all too much. The feeling of life every time you said his name, like a devotion, something religious, lyrical. The sweetness in your eyes, the warm voice. Everything had been too much.

And what should he do? Tell you he missed you every time you went on a mission? Saying that he were jealous and envy of Jesper because the man managed to make you laugh with a silly joke and hug you tight, something Kaz still hadn't been able to do? Tell you it was almost religious the way he venerated your smile? Of course not. Because all these things would have been sensible, and Kaz couldn't do anything sensible around you.

Because when he saw life offering him, with such joy, the one thing that had been denied him all his life, and that he swore never to crave, his first impulse was anger. Stupid, irrational anger.

So, for the first few moments, his entire reaction to you had been cold, distant, almost avoidant. Because the way his whole body shook in hot spasms when, in that summery tone, you called his name, it was too much for Kaz to handle.

“Kaz!” You call, one night.

He heard your voice from across the crow club, and had to close his eyes tightly at the way his heart leapt in his chest.

"Hey, hey." You appeared beside him, your cheeks chased away by coral red, the happy smile and the sparkle in your eyes as someone who have the path to true happiness. "Jessy said you were wanting to find a new way to invade that bank."

Oh perfect. In the same way his body exalted when he heard the sound of your name and your lips, hearing you call Jesper by that infernal nickname had a much more destabilizing effect. And fierce.

Kaz raised an eyebrow at you, in a nonchalant gesture but inviting you to keep talking.

“I happen to know of an underground path.” For an instant, the pride in your smile made Kaz want to smile too. “You and I can put together a map today and we'll be right tomorrow to go.”

That was one of the times Kaz should have made some dry, disinterested, trivial comment, something that made you not want to spend time with him, something that made you turn around and walk away. He should have turned around and left. He had done this over a thousand times with other people and knew it to be one of the best outings.

Still, the acid comment didn't come and he couldn't turn his back on you.

So, like the idiot he became whenever it came to you, Kaz couldn't help but spend an hour in your company. Even if it resulted in him lying in bed at the end of the day, alone and feeling the guilt gnawing at him more and more.

So, before he even knew it, Kaz was already in his office with you, listening to you chatter about things he knew he should have been paying attention to. But the way the crackling of the fire flames in the fireplace flashed across your face was a distraction of unimaginable proportions.

“Jessy and I…”

“You want to stop.” He found himself saying before he even realized it. “That nickname is already exasperating me.”

“Why? Jealousy?” You joked, oblivious to the truth.

Kaz looked at you like your comment was the most pathetic thing he'd ever heard. He wanted to screaming: ‘I’m not jealous! Its just...you’re mine!.’ But he didn't. Instead, the words that came out were:

“No. It's childish and immature, and it doesn't fit with...”

"What if I call you ‘Darling’?” You rested your chin on both palms of your hand, your elbows resting on his desk in his office.

Kaz's heart skipped a beat.

“That way you won't be jealous of Jessy's nickname and…”

“It's not jealousy!” He countered, and too late realized that he didn't disagree in the first instance about the nickname, but about the green color that emanated from his body.

And you didn't let that go either.

Your eyes took on a caustic gleam that you quickly hid, turning to the map on the table and going back to drawing the paths. “Okay, Darling.”

After that night, Kaz's self-control began to crumble.

He gave you death glares whenever you called him that nickname, but he never dared contradict or scold you. Much less deny it. The truth was, the core of his soul wanted this. He wanted every part of your caress warm as summer. He wanted to appreciate how perfect you looked when you called him that way. As if that nickname was born just to be used between you.

Something unique.

Over time, his body's physical reactions began to be stronger, coercive and overwhelming. Kaz felt dry, burning, and you soothed and inflamed him at the same time. You were the breath of peace, and also a glass of hot brandy.

And everything that he once felt dead, frozen or putrefying, slowly began to blossom, reborn and shine.

"Darling." You said, going behind the chair Kaz was sitting in, submerged in the Krisha security system sheets in front of he. “You've been there for hours.”

He ignored you, though his body was all too aware of yours behind him, the way your breath hit the top of his ear, how your heat hit his back like a high summer breeze. Kaz swallowed hard, ordering his eyes to stay on the pages.

“What are you reading?”

Your voice rang out from the top of his head, and Kaz felt his heart race into a cardiac arrhythmia the second your hands went to the back of the chair and your face tilted, chin hovering millimeters from his shoulder, your nose almost brushing his cheek.

Fucking Saints! You were hot! It was as if you had sun bathed, swam in the flames of fire, and been born into the summer.

Kaz lost his breath. His sanity. His soul.

“Do not do this.” His voice was no more than a whisper.

You looked at him, the furs not touching but breath hitting each other's cheeks. Kaz followed your gaze, and suddenly the world subtly turned hot. Pulsing and muffled.

“What?” You whispered, your heart so fast.

This was the time for Kaz to use the touche in a very valid argument. To make you move away as fast as you approached. To nip in the bud any path this interaction between you could take. He should have said about the touch. But he didn't remember. Kaz didn't remember his limitation, his traumas, his demons.

In that second, of insanity and magic, you couldn't do that just because…

"I feel like I cant breathe when I'm around you." He said.

After that day, Kaz realized that life no longer made sense without having you by his side to share it. Money didn't have the same value anymore if you weren't there, the robberies didn't make sense anymore if he couldn't tell you how it was at the end of the day, or have you by his side to fight.

Very quickly, Kaz Brekker realized that he had lost the battle against his own feelings. Loving you was inevitable. And having you close to him was made as essential as breathing. That's when things between the two of you developed faster, more solid, more right. The weeks turned to months, the months to years, and your relationship fortified as gloriously as the hilt of a sword.

Kaz still had very difficult moments with touching, days when a single brush of fur was unbearable and the mention of a kiss was impossible. But you stayed there. Firm and unshakable. Giving your summer smiles,your warm winks, and his nickname that had the power to soothe every nerve in Kaz's body.

However, the more Kaz understand that he was need you to he still live, the deeper he hid any trace of public affection for you. Any clue that could sparked the theory in someone that you were the reason, for Brekker, for the sun rose every morning. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you. Never.

Kaz Brekker became very aware that his soul was harnessed to yours. And there was nothing in the world that would take you away from he. Not while he lived, and even seven feet from land, Kaz would still find a way to fight for you.

It was a logical decision when he said you two should get married. Kaz was still trying to maintain his serene posture as his soul burned in a fire too eager and excited to make official anything that said you were his. That he had finally managed to have that ray of sunshine in the midst of the atrocious ocean. You, unlike him, exhaled your happiness in excited squeals, little jumps of joy and a passionate, quick kiss on the man in front of you.

And Kaz understood, as perfectly as the sky are blue, that he would do anything, for the rest of his life, to be worthy of that overwhelming happiness that sparkled in yours smiles.

“Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.” He said, feeling himself smile because your happiness for the wedding was exorbitant.

And you, like the little tease you were who loved to make him piss off, smiled even more and hugged him. He love you. Unconditionally.

But, just like the ocean waves, Kaz and you have had your ups and downs. He wasn't a man who had a lot of patience, and you weren't the most obedient, calm woman in the world. You found him exasperating and he found you as stubborn as a door.

"I already said you can't do that!" And there he was, once again, lecturing you because you showed too much affection, in his mind, for him in a public situation.

And, as Kaz fucking Brekker liked to point out, ‘all walls have eyes and ears’.

"We've been together for six years, Kaz!" You tried to keep your blood calm, but you weren't a person to put up with sermons. “Is this going to be our life? Living as if we have the same connection as a boss and an employee?!”

“And what do you want, Y/n?!” He placed both hands on his office desk, looking at you from the other side “Want us to have a party and tell everyone?! Or do you prefer to hang a red target on your chest?!”

"I did not say that!" You were starting to get really angry. “I'm not asking for a billboard saying we're married and you know it! The only thing I'm saying is that you let me choose to sit next to you, take your hand, or tell you I love you when any of us go off on a dangerous mission!"

Kaz shook his head, impassable, his gaze flashing with anger. How did you not realize he was trying to save you?! Save everything you two built, your lives! And all this for what? Walking hand in hand on the street? It was ridiculous!

“This is indisputable!”

“Kaz…”

“I said no!” He slapped his hands on the table.

A less brave woman would have cringed. But not you.

“I don’t like to pretend we’re not together!”

“And I don't like a fucking girl who complains all the fucking time about something I do to save her! But it feels like I've been put up with it for six years, doesn't it?!”

The words hit you like a slap. Crackling, burning and electrifying. You felt yourself holding your breath and your shoulders instinctively tightening back. The room was silent. Loaded with tension, as if lightning had just hit the ground.

You looked at Kaz in amazement. And he pursed his lips when he realized what he'd said.

“Put up with? And you call me ‘fucking girl’ ?” You repeated, your voice low, serious and in a mixture of hurt and outrage. “Good to know.”

You turned your back, walking out of the office and slamming the door behind you hard, making the thud reverberate through the corridors of Kaz's soul.

"Y/n!" He called you, striding to the door "Y/n!"

But when Kaz pulled the doorknob and took a few steps down the hall, it wasn't you he bumped into. It was Nina, trying to hide, in a very terrible way, her curious and shocked expression. In female hands she carried a small stack of documents, probably something important that Kaz needed to check.

He had to check that out. But his eyes, restless and quick, wandered the great hall of the crow club below, watching your figure pass between the bodies, advancing towards the exit.

"Sooo…" Nina started, even though the attention wasn't on her. "Couple fights, right?"

But Kaz didn't think before nodding, trying to get past Nina to catch up with you. But of course the girl wasn't going to let Brekker get away with it that quickly. She was betting with Inej how long you two would pretend to have nothing. And now she was going to get the truth!

"So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?" The smile of shock and excitement was wide open on her face.

Kaz muttered a curse, gently pushing the girl aside and moving towards the stairs, aiming to catch up with you. But not before answering:

"No, that girl is my wife!"

[homosexuality-at-its-finest]

i'm feeling like a b- *coughs* today and saw that you write for Hannibal so here I am inflicting this on others hbgvyh. maybe a will or hannibal (i can't decide) x reader where reader is the kid of a notorious serial killer and was always affected by that and Will/Hannibal never brought it up until an argument making reader storm out and W/H feel bad? Angst to fluff? And I totally get if you don't want to do this so have a nice day-night! Did you know that a group of bunnies is called a fluffle?

A/n: I'm high on cough syrup rn and getting the information that a group of bunnies is called a fluffle made me cry, thank you. I will hold this information dear. On another note I hope you enjoy this!!

Plot: Requested :)

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Gn! Reader

Y/N: Your name

L/n: Last name

E/c: Eye color

Warnings: Angst, mentions of murder and blood, reader is traumatized tm, Hannibal is manipulative tbh, fluff, making up, cursing

Word count: 942

The L/n family had been tainted for years, a great shame to their only child Y/n. Their father had been a notorious serial killer, only getting caught because of a slip up. The father had tried to use his child as a shield and was shot down in front of the very child he had put in harms way.

The story was known nationwide, and for many years the traumatized Y/n had to deal with people prying into their life and their business to learn about the situation. Very few had ignored their dark past, and one of those people was Y/n’s partner Hannibal.

The man was a renowned psychologist who had quite a few murder cases under his belt, and he knew better than to ask his beloved about their own experiences. He could tell Y/n was still traumatized by what they saw that day. Hannibal didn’t need to see his partner having nightmares to know this information.

He could see it in the way Y/n would flinch at the mention of their father’s name or become uncomfortable at the mere mention of blood. There were many tell-tale signs of his partners trauma, which had made the entire situation more fucked up.

The couple had been arguing, what they were arguing over Hannibal couldn’t remember. It was something small and trivial that had been blown out of proportion by his beloved. The killer could feel the rage burning in his veins as they screamed back and forth, Y/n getting closer to him as they argued.

Hannibal used one thing in his arsenal he knew would hurt his lover more than anything else, and he had stooped low to win the argument. He watched as Y/n threw their hands in the air, annoyance clear in their body language.

“What the hell is wrong with you Hannibal?” The words were hissed out as Y/n’s E/c eyes narrowed in on him.

“Darling are we sure I’m the one who is fucked up?” Hannibal’s words came out as lazy and condescending. “Last I checked my father wasn’t the mass murderer.” It was a low blow, and he knew that, and as soon as the words left his lips regret bubbled in his chest.

Y/n took a step back as if they’d been burned, and Hannibal wanted nothing more than to grab their smaller figure and pull Y/n against his chest. He was far too stubborn to do that sadly, watching as Y/n’s arms wrapped self-consciously around their frame.

Tears welled up in the beautiful E/c eyes that Hannibal loved so dearly, leaving an aching hole in his chest.

“Fuck you Hannibal.” He had barely heard the words as Y/n turned away, grabbing their keys and bag without a second thought. Pleas died on his lips before they could be spoken, for once he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to calm the raging storm in his lover.

He watched as an outsider from his own body as the one he loved left his home, leaving him alone to sink into the abyss of guilt. The killer knew he shouldn’t have said that it was a topic that wasn’t mentioned, let alone thrown into Y/n’s face.

The brunette let out a low sigh, fingers carding through his greying hair. He didn’t know how he was going to make it up to them. His mind was only drawing blanks, causing his skin to broil with irritation.

He let Y/n cool off for a few days, knowing that his partner would only get angrier if he approached now. After 4 days of letting Y/n cool off, he had bought a bouquet of orchids and made his way towards their apartment.

He could tell his lover was home by their car in the driveway, so he proceeded up the front steps before knocking. He waited patiently for Y/n to answer the door, forcing himself not to shift uncomfortably.

The door was opened by the familiar face he loved so dearly, an apologetic smile spreading across his lips.

“Y/n, darling I’m so sorry for what I said.” He spoke before Y/n could. “It was out of line, and it was wrong of me to hold it against you. I didn’t mean it, I said it during a fit of anger.” The psychologist took a breath, waiting for Y/n to speak.

“If you ever say anything like that again, we’re done.” The words held a finality to them, making him subtly gulp. The smile that spread across his partners lips soothed the anxiety stirring inside the killer. “Really orchids? You sap.” The playful words banished any anxiety left, a loving smile spreading across his lips.

“Of course, darling, they symbolize sincerity.” He replied, handing them to Y/n. “May I come in?” Hannibal was unsure if his partner was ready to be around him yet, but the hand pulling him inside pushed the worries away.

“Who knew the great Hannibal Lecter knew so much about flowers?” Y/n teased, pecking his cheek. Hannibal knew damn well he’d say many more regrettable things in the future, but right now he had Y/n once more, and he refused to ever let them go. Similar to a predator with their prey, the only way Y/n would escape this relationship was in death, not that they needed to know that of course. For now they could be content and happy, ignorant to the monster that lurked within Hannibal.

[elias-code]

The Feeling’s Mutual - c!Techno x Reader

PT 1 because I‘m taking too long lmao

Characters: c!Technoblade x gn!Reader, Philza, Quackity, Charlie S

Summary: [from an ask] The reader is kicked out by Quackity from Las Nevadas and was forced to roam around to look for somewhere to live and they end up in Techno’s cabin after passing out in the tundra. At first, you have a shared hatred of each other, but you end up warming up when you figure out he’s been making you breakfast.

Warnings: Exile, mild malnutrition, corruption

————————— Enjoy :3 —————————

“Ooh! I get to go visit you now! Like a vacation!” Charlie cheered.

“No, Charlie,” You sighed, continuing to follow him out of the city, “I’m getting exiled. I don’t think Quackity will let you visit me,”

He frowned, confused. He wasn’t the best at understanding broad concepts like exile and all the drama that brought it about. He just thinks you’re one of his best friends, and that Quackity is also his best friend. Now, Quackity was in no way your friend as you once were. He banished you for the dumbest thing, just because you challenged his integrity. Unbeknownst to Charlie, Quackity was giving away trade secrets, rigging elections and his casinos. You didn’t join him to scam people, you just wanted a new start after L’Manburg.

You walked with him in silence past the bright neon lights and street lamps of Los Nevadas. You were never going to be allowed back here, even though you built half of the damn place.

“So if Quackity doesn’t let me visit, can you visit me?” Charlie asked solemnly.

“Again, probably not,” You stuffed your hands in your pockets and half-smiled at him, “I don’t think he wants to see me back here. Ever,”

Where were you even going to go? No one would take you. Quackity had made many enemies, who were, in turn, yours, and now no one you were allied with alongside Quackity will be friendly except for Charlie. But Charlie was his lapdog, nothing could touch him and you weren’t going to be allowed around him anymore.

Your enemies list was vast, all the way up at the top, finally overtaking Technoblade, was Quackity. Congrats, Big Q, you piece of shit.

Charlie stopped at the end of the road, finally realizing this might be the last time you see each other. He wanted to cry, but he held it back. There’d always be hope, he could sneak out, you could sneak in. But you’d have to do it all in secret, and it just didn’t feel right to him.

“I’m gonna miss you, Charlie,” You said.

He smiled weakly at you and pulled you in for a slimy hug.

“We’ll see each other again someday,” He stated.

You wanted to believe that, but the pit in your stomach just sank further as the embrace came to an end. You’d have to get going, this would be the last time you see him, or Los Nevadas for that matter, in a long time at least.

-

You spent days wandering. Just as you suspected, no one would take you in. Not even Niki because of your governmental associations. You found the occasional scrap of meat or stale bread in some chests along the prime path, but you felt so sick to your stomach that it became hard to eat anything you found.

From the desert to the ocean to the plains to the tundra you roamed. You hunted with what little supplies you had.

There had been no food for days now, the snow was the only source of water within sight. There were no signs of life, no people, no animals, only the occasional dying tree to sleep under in the blistering cold. As if things couldn’t get any worse, the blizzard came.

Blinding white all around. The only sound audible was the whistling of the wind in the frozen, rotting branches above you. At this point, you’d gone numb, the only thing you could feel was your heart beating heavily in your chest as you lost consciousness.

-

“We couldn’t just leave them out in the snow, Techno! That’s just cruel!”

“They’re with Quackity, Phil. Don’t make me explain this again,”

“I’m not going to let you throw them back out,” Phil explained, “No one would willingly come here, Technoblade. They have a reason, I know it,”

You opened your eyes cautiously. It was warm, you were covered in a thick red cape and a few blankets, the fire next to you was roaring. Whatever argument was taking place had moved further into the distance, out of earshot.

Everything ached, but at least you were warm. You let yourself come to your senses. Maybe the exile was all a nightmare. Maybe Quackity wasn’t a dumb bitch after all. But where were you? Whose bed was this? Whose-

It’s Technoblade’s cape.

Your eyes widened as you shot up out of bed. The pain in your legs was sickening, but so was being in this man’s house. You ran to the fireplace and grabbed some sharp steel tongs, meant for poking at the logs, for protection. His footsteps moved closer, the conversation was over.

You brandished your weapon and prayed for dear life.

The door creaked open and he stepped through, shutting it behind him. He stared at you, looking down at the weapon and then back at the tossed bed. He looked unfazed by your threatening pose. You were more scared than he was.

“I lend you my cape,” Technoblade points at the bed, “And you decide the best move for you is to stab me?”

Guilt crept into your throat.

“What am I doing here?” You hissed at him.

“Phil found you under a tree,” He chuckled, “And decided he wanted to adopt someone else,”

“Aren’t you supposed to kill me or something?”

“Why? Should I?” He threatened, taking a step towards you.

You stepped back, bumping into the table behind you, “That- That’s what you do,”

“If it were up to me, you’d probably be buried in the snow by now.”

You scowled at him, rediscovering past hatred towards him and using that to fuel your rage.

“I’d rather be left out there,” You spat, “Not stuck in here with you-“

“Again, I agree, but Phil is the one you should be angry with if you don’t want to be here,” He rolled his eyes and held his hand out.

“I’m not giving this back to you,” You growled.

He stepped forward and snatched the spear out of your hand, tossing it behind him, out of reach. He leaned forward and hissed in your face, “Don’t try anything, kid,”

You swallowed your pride, weak and unarmed. Whether you liked it or not, you’d have to stay with him for a while. No one would take you in, so it was either deal with Technoblade or die. You might as well use this to your advantage.

-

Days went by where you never even saw Techno. Phil took care of you most of the time, but he didn’t have any room in his house with Wilbur being there and all, so you were forced to sleep in Techno’s cabin. It became easier and more manageable as time went on. The only time you ever really saw him were the latest hours of the night when he’d come home and, if you were lucky, at dawn when he left.

Breakfast usually materialized at your doorstep every morning around the same time. Sometimes it was yoghurt, sometimes fresh fruit, sometimes cold meat and oatmeal, but it was always delicious. You suspected Phil was behind the mysterious meals, that was until you asked him about it.

“I don’t think I ever said, but thanks for breakfast,” You smiled at Phil as you helped him load firewood into the horse’s saddlebags.

He looked at you, perplexed, to say the least.

“What breakfast? Don’t you just eat whatever Techno has?” Phil replied.

Your stomach turned, letting the past couple of weeks turn over in your head. You shouldn’t have assumed Phil was the one making your food. You should’ve asked before you just started gorging yourself every morning.

Phil watched as you turned pale and hopped on the horse. He thought that you just ate whatever Techno had in his pantries, and never questioned it. Now, all was revealed. Techno had been making you breakfast.

For most people living as a guest in someone else's house, having breakfast brought to their door would just be seen as a sweet thing, but it was dangerously blown out of proportions when it was your ex greatest enemy doing it without you even knowing. You silently reasoned with yourself that if he was going to poison you, you’d be dead already. That comforting fact backfired as you realised he could have killed you so easily. Your emotions were on a rollercoaster, and your stomach sank deeper and deeper as the more intrusive thoughts crept in.

You needed to catch him in the act. Something about The Blood God making you breakfast created sentiments of self-worth out of thin air. Part of you wanted to prove it to yourself, and part of you wanted to embarrass him for it.

-

The familiar shine of daybreak made the room glow orange. The fire had gone out that night, as it usually did, but the cold felt like nothing now that you had a mission to accomplish.

You slipped out of bed, clad in leggings and a simple green shirt. The floor was icy on your bare feet but you trodded out the door and down the stairs, heading for the kitchen.

The dining room was salmon-pink, highlighted by the bright orange flickering coming from the fireplace. It was already warmer down here than it was upstairs, the fire must’ve already been on for a while by now. The kitchen was out of view, but you could already smell fish frying from the base of the stairs.

Making your way through the archway, you spotted Techno’s red cape on its hook by the door next to the thick winter coat you loaned from Phil. Below them, both were black boots, sprinkled with half-melted snow. The floorboard below you creaked when you stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

Techno spun around, startled by the noise. His face flushed with guilt temporarily but was quickly replaced by a furrowed brow and confused eyes.

“What are you doing awake? It’s five,” He implored.

“I could smell the salmon,” You shrugged and moved towards him innocently.

He turned back to the fish and turned the stove off, sliding it onto a plate.

“What’re we eating today?”

“You just said,”

You scoffed and conceded. It was a dumb thing to ask, but he wasn’t supposed to answer. It was only meant to highlight the reality that you knew what he’d been doing. Nothing in his expression, now unreadable, made you think he didn’t know that you knew he’d been making you breakfast.

He gently pushed by you, letting his arm brush against yours. It made your heart skip a beat, probably out of fear, you told yourself. Your skin went cold, but you followed him into the next room where he put the dish on the table and gestured for you to sit.

“You don’t seem to hate me anymore,” You mumbled.

“I never said I hated you, just that I don’t like you,”

“Well, you don’t seem to not like me either,”

He blinked at you and sat across the table from you.

“Where are you going today?” You said with a mouthful of food, “To do mysterious things, I imagine,”

“I was going to stay here today, actually.”

You stopped eating.

“I finished my mysterious duties,” He mocked.

Well, he wasn’t going to budge on where he’d been going the past few nights, but that wasn’t particularly important right now. What caught your attention was that he was staying here for the day. Again, meaningless to most people, but with him, it was surprising.

He began snickering, just at your face.

“I was never the one that hated you,” He laughed, “You were the one who brandished that poker at me,”

Your face flushed red with embarrassment, “I can be resourceful, at least,”

He continued to laugh at you, the absurdity of the situation hitting him with full force. Right now you wished you could hit him with full force.

“Alright, alright,” He took a deep breath, “I do have some questions for you,”

You looked up at him, annoyance plastered on your face.

“Shoot,”

“Why are you here instead of Las Nevadas?”

“Because Quackity kicked me out, and-“

“How did you know I made you breakfast?” He cut you off.

“I asked Phil, but-“

“Why did Quackity kick you out?”

“I asked him too many questions, just-“

“Do you still hold any loyalty to him?”

“No, but-“

“Questionnaire over, thank you for participating,” He stood up and excused himself from the table, heading back to the kitchen.

-

Techno never left again after that. He stuck around and made an effort to make you annoyed and uncomfortable every chance he could get. It was becoming a sort of game with him, and you were more than happy to play along. It made it easier to get along with him in general. There’d be no more dreading seeing him, no more awkwardness surrounding your avoidance.

Now, you had other things to be awkward about. If you passed each other a bit too close in a doorway, when you tripped over a rug in the living room, the fact that you were sleeping in his bed, the abrupt flirtatious nature of the man you were now sharing a room with.

You never really thought about it, but before he moved back into his room onto a makeshift bed, he’d been sleeping on the couch. He’d wake you early in the morning when he’d get up to make breakfast, and whenever he did leave to run errands, he’d wake you late at night when he came home.

One morning, around eight, he woke you purposefully.

“Get dressed, I want to show you something,” he whispered, gently shaking you.

You groggily complied and eventually found your way to the front door where he was waiting for you.

“No breakfast?” You asked.

“Breakfast after,” He said, opening the door.

He was dressed in his usual clothes, but he carried a large satchel with him. Inside were different scraps of leftover meat and some bones. He didn’t tell you what for, but you were too tired to ask anyway.

You followed him through the fresh snow, crunching under your feet. It was drowned out by mindless conversation that you both kept up to stay awake. He brought you to a distant hill in a clearing, where a cliffside was awaiting. The conversation stopped as he told you to wait, and he went over to the wall and pressed a rock into the stone.

You could faintly hear the sound of pistons firing before the rock slid down slotted into the floor.

The sound of dogs barking filled the forest as hundreds of dogs and puppies spilt out of the entrance. Most of them went running to Techno, who was now holding the bag aloft, out of reach from the dogs. Some of them ran to you, their tails wagging happily at their new potential playmate.

“Pretty cool, huh?” He shouted.

“Holy-“ You stopped and pet the large, black dog that jumped on you, “Where’d you get so many dogs?”

“Long story,” He began to throw chunks of meat into the writhing pile of hounds, who were now obsessively sniffing you.

“I do this three times a week,” he said as he made his way over to you, “It’d get done a lot faster if you could help now that you’re living here full-time,”

“Wait,” You looked at him blankly, “Full-time?”

“That’s the idea,”

You thought for a moment, “Where am I going to sleep?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he said, handing you some chunks of meat to throw.

By the time Techno’s bag was empty, it was almost noon. He shephered them back into the cavern and shut the door behind them. They were very well trained, when he commanded them all to sit once they got inside, there was no hesitation. The puppies were confused at first, but they followed along with the pack flawlessly.

Leaving the clearing, you talked with him freely about your plans for the future at the cabin. It didn’t mean you’d live there forever, knowing Techno, he might end up being hunted out of the tundra eventually. But for now, you were sticking with him.

It was strsnge to think that you were once mortal enemies, staring each other down on the battlefield with nothing but rage coursing through your veins. Now, you were cheerily chatting about what it would be like to settle down together. Between the two of you, mutual feelings of respect and redemption. The distrust was long since buried.

[stylesberries]

Vegan Cupcakes

Summary: You and Harry have been quarantined together and he needs space.

Genre(s): angst (happy ending)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warning(s): angsty stuff, ~foul language~

You and Harry have been quarantined together for several months now and, despite the difficulty and the severity of the situation, you as a couple are having the time of your lives.

Harry was definitely disappointed and upset about not being able to go touring with Fine Line, but the second he heard the news he thought of you.

He has been donating a lot of money and supplies for those in need of it or unemployed while you took your university classes online.

Spending most of the spring together didn’t feel as suffocating for Harry as summer did. Your classes were over and you didn’t take a summer semester, so your time fully revolved around him. Which he liked.

In the beginning.

Until you clung on him like a koala for days and made him cuddle you all the time, which he enjoyed a lot until it became a routine. Harry couldn’t even tell you how he felt because it would hurt your feelings, so he didn’t say anything at all, keeping it all to himself.

“Baby?” You call for him from the kitchen.

Harry rolls his eyes as you, once again, interrupted his flow of thoughts. He gets up from the couch he was laying on peacefully before and walks towards the kitchen, where you are standing holding up a paper so big it covers your whole face.

“Yes?” Harry asks, trying his best not to come out too rough. You placed the paper on the kitchen island in front of you to look up at Harry. You didn’t pay close attention to his annoyance; you were too busy brainstorming what proportion of flour to sugar to take for your vegan cupcakes.

“Harry, do you think I should take 1:2? Like twice as much flour? Or do you want the cupcakes to be sweeter?” Harry watched you ramble, crossing his arms, feeling ~this~ close to bursting. “Or do you think the cupcakes shouldn’t be that sweet because they’ll have sweet icing on top?” You ket throwing question after question at your fuming boyfriend, still oblivious of his irritation.

“Or maybe we should make them both mildly sweet?” Shut up.

“They will be chocolate anyway, right?” Shut up.

“Would you prefer dark chocola-”

“Y/N, shut up already! Can you stop fucking rambling? My head is going to explode from your talking.” Harry explodes, not letting you finish your question, the excited smile leaving your face.

You felt your head being squeezed from sides, pressure increasing at your temples.

“What?” You ask, hoping that you misheard him, knowing deep down that you didn’t because the Harry you knew and loved would never say such a hurtful thing.

“I said shut up. My brain is buzzing from your talking. Do whatever you fucking want.” Harry said and walked out of the kitchen before you could say something to him.

Thinking that he probably isn’t in a good mood and certainly needs space from your rambling you stay back in the kitchen and go back to your recipe with a broken heart and wet eyes. Your hands shake as you brought the paper back up to your face, failing to read any of the words and measurements through a layer of tears that were collected in your eyes.

Even when you were fighting he had never said anything so mean to you before, especially after he found out that your whole life people have been discouraging you from talking, so you closed off and spoke up only when you were directly called out for not saying anything. It took Harry a couple of months to finally get you to open up to him and talk to him without feeling guilty for it. He used to love it when you rambled on and on about things you’re passionate about. At least that’s what you thought.

You spend the next hour making the batter for your cupcakes and baking them, which only took about fifteen minutes. You felt encouraged to go up to Harry when you smelled the chocolate cupcakes fresh out of the oven.

“I’ll put a couple on a plate.” You spoke to yourself placing the freshly baked cupcakes on Harry’s favorite flower plate. “Just like that.”

Talking to yourself was a way you brushed your nervousness and anxiety away. Harry would catch you talking to your reflection millions of times, just standing and secretly watching you sometimes with a wide smile plastered on his face.

You placed the plate on the tray you brought from your trip to Italy and poured Harry some black coffee, placing it next to the warm plate. You picked the tray up and walked out of the kitchen, making sure to watch your elbows at the doorway.

Making your way towards the living room, where you expected Harry to be, you spotted no grumpy boyfriends there.

“He’s probably in the studio.” You spoke to yourself, refusing to let Harry’s bad mood discourage you.

Harry would rarely hide from you in the studio when you’re fighting, usually he would face you and solve the issue before it grows and hurts you even more, so it was unusual for him to run off there.

You brushed the thought off and watched towards the studio door. As you walked closer you could hear Harry talking to someone, but knowing that there is no one home except you two, you understood that he’s talking on the phone with someone. You stood at the door, turning to the side to place the tray on the floor, freeing your hands to turn back to the door and knock, as you didn’t want to interrupt any important calls or interviews that Harry could have with your talking.

Before your knuckles hit the door, you heard Harry’s voice.

“Man, I mean she’s always next to me. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t wait for her to go back to uni for me to get some air.” Harry whines. Your heart stops before going back to beating at a higher rate, full of anxiety.

“Yeah, right! It just feels as if she’s been dreaming of being touchy-feely with someone and now that I’m finally home she can’t get herself off of me.” Harry kept stabbing your heart and laughed at something the person on the phone said.

With every word, you felt more and more empty. You started walking away from the door, bending over to take the tray with yourself not to leave any traces behind.

How could he say something like that?

I thought he loved me.

You didn’t know what you were doing. Your legs moved on their own and you just followed along, tears leaking from your eyes’ inner corners, tracing a way down to your chin. The salty trail wasn’t getting a chance to dry as new tears followed the same path as the ones before did.

When your body reached the kitchen your shaking hands placed the tray on the counter, Harry’s coffee slightly spilling on the tray.

Pain.

Never before have you thought than sadness could physically hurt so much; it hurt like a bitch.

You placed the tray on the table for Harry to find later and walked out of the kitchen to go back to your bedroom to cry in your pillow while he keeps complaining about you to his friend.

Harry came to bed in a couple of hours closer to the evening after looking for you all over the house to apologize for his rough words. When he saw you laying on your side of the bed, your knees pushed up to your chest, the duvet hardly doing its job keeping you covered and warm, he felt guilt running through his veins.

Walking up to his side, pressing a knee on the mattress first, Harry scooted over to you and pulled the duvet to cover you up. He let his arm stay on the duvet wrapping around your fragile form. He moved his upper body closer to yours, his chest pressing against your duvet-covered back.

“Baby?” Harry spoke softly, cautious not to wake you up. When no answer followed he frowned and positioned his face into the crook of your neck, pressing kisses on your neck.

“I’m sorry about earlier, baby. I was very mean to you.” He spoke against your soft skin. “I shouldn’t have exploded like that. It wasn’t fair to you.”

Harry’s apologies kept following one after another and you stayed silent, keeping your act on. You would’ve believed every word of his if only you haven’t heard him say the things he said about you to someone else.

You kept your eyes closed. Harry’s apologies subsided as he slowly fell asleep cuddled into your back. You stayed up that night, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. You wished for the pain inside to leave with your tears but it stayed, eating you from inside, until sunrise when you fell asleep from the emotional exhaustion.

When you woke up, Harry was no longer lying next to you and you were thankful for it. You really hoped that he wouldn’t bring yesterday up, even though you knew he would because he never got to apologize to you awake.

Your stomach growled and you remember that you never got to have dinner the day before, falling asleep drowning in your own sadness.

You quickly got up to sneakily walk down to the kitchen, but you were disappointed to have smelled Harry’s signature chocolate waffles in the air. With your shoulders slumped in defeat you walked down the stairs towards your kitchen.

As you walked through the doorway of the kitchen you saw Harry placing the brown waffles onto serving plates and adding sliced strawberries on top. You stopped your heart from fluttering because you, unfortunately, knew more than you’d prefer to know about how your boyfriend actually feels about you.

Harry felt someone’s eyes on him and turned around to be greeted by your indifferent self. He felt his heart sink as he read the hurt from the day before engraved on the surface of your face. Harry kept fidgeting about the table trying to let you pass to sit in your place next to him and placed the plate of waffles in front of you.

“I made you your favorite, baby.” He spoke unsure of how you would react to any words that left his mouth.

You fought the desire to bite into the warm chocolate waffles that your belly was craving after crying all night long and being left hungry for so many hours and walked up to the counter to get yourself a couple of your ill-fated cupcakes.

You couldn’t see Harry’s head lowering as you dashed his hopes to make it better. Little did Harry know you weren’t upset about his outburst about the cupcakes yesterday, so a couple of waffles won’t help to glue together the ruins of your heart that he shattered.

As you bit into the cupcakes, you stood at the counter facing away from the table, Harry took no bites of his breakfast, staring at your back helplessly. Suddenly he felt small and didn’t know what to do.

“I’m sorry about yesterday, Y/N. I acted like a piece of shit. You don’t deserve to be treated like that.” His lips moved as his eyes watched your back for any reaction coming from you, his voice coming out soft and weak.

You stood there, your eyes glossy and your lips curving down in a frown, as you fought back the tears. Harry doesn’t have a single idea of how much pain he’s caused you and how none of these stupid apologies will ever fix the cracks that he left in your heart. You looked over your shoulder at Harry’s similar-to-yours state and hesitated whether or not to open up to him. Harry looked into your eyes with his and held a breath, hoping that you would figure things out. Your eyes broke the eye contact by looking down and speaking up.

“It’s okay.” You spoke and abandoned your plate, walking out of the kitchen, Harry’s eyes observing your every movement.

For the next couple of days, you stayed away from Harry and things were pretty cold between you. Harry would come up to you every day trying to apologize but you wouldn’t let him finish any of those times, leaving the room right away. Hurt was eating you from inside and you didn’t care what he had to say. Harry chose to sleep in the guest bedroom not to make you uncomfortable and you thanked him for it.

As time went by, you cooled down and felt better yourself. Harry gave you all the space you needed and it helped your healing process. You still hurt but you could talk to him now at least. Things went back to normal in most ways except one: you would stop yourself from expressing any kind of affection to Harry and he wouldn’t say anything but it drove him insane. He didn’t know why you wouldn’t kiss or snuggle him like you used to. You also started talking less because of your fight and Harry noticed every single change in your behavior and beat himself up for it.

“Y/N.” Harry walked into the bedroom with an i-can’t-do-this-anymore face on. Your eyes had to abandon the indulging book you were reading as Harry closed the door behind him, which meant he was determined to finally face the difficulty of the situation. Noticing the mood in the room change to a serious one, you placed the book on the bedside table and crossed your legs under the duvet, focusing all of your attention on your restless boyfriend with arms crossed.

“Mhm?” You ask, waiting for him to spit out whatever he’s been putting aside for almost two weeks.

“I’m sorry for that fight, okay? I really am, sweetheart. You haven’t been the same since then and it scares me. I didn’t mean to go off at you like that. You didn’t deserve it at all. I was exhausted and felt shitty myself and took it out on you. It’s not an excuse to yell at you and be so mean, I understand and I’m sorry, beautiful. It was a mistake and it won’t happen again, I promise. Please forgive me, Y/N.” Harry spoke so desperately, his emotions all over the place. He started gesticulating, which you knew meant that he was anxious and frustrated.

“I’m not mad at that, Harry. I forgave you.” You spoke the truth; Harry looked at you with even more frustration behind his now-glossy eyes.

“But you don’t even touch me anymore! You don’t kiss me! You don’t even want to be near-” Harry lets all of his insecurities out, oblivious to the flow of your own that you prepare to pour on him. You couldn’t sit there and listen to him accuse you of being neglectful towards him so you broke in to speak yourself.

“You don’t want me to be around you anymore! You said that yourself! You-you said-” Your voice cracks as tears build up in the corners of your eyes. It became hard to talk. “-said I’m always next to you and you need some space from me always being there.”

The tears that were collecting in your eyes were streaming down your cheeks, Harry’s glance reflecting off of them. Harry couldn't understand what you were referring to but kept listening to you.

“And you didn’t even have the guts to tell me yourself. You whined about how annoying I am to your friend, embarrassing me. It’s supposed to be something kept between us two, not discussed with your friends.” Every word stabbed his heart in same places as it did yours.

Harry’s mind went straight to the call you were talking about. He felt his intestines turn into a knot inside of him, causing him to feel nauseous. He felt like an asshole. It was fair because he was one indeed.

I hurt her.

You don’t want to be around me anymore.

Does she really think that?

You need space from me.

My baby. My angel.

What a fucking piece of shit am I to hurt my precious love like this.

You saw right through Harry’s sudden self-hatred despite the two layers of salty tears between your eyes and his.

“I’m so sorry.” Harry’s apologies filled the room, as pain continued to fill his soul.

“I hurt you. I’m so fucking sorry. It was so wrong to share something so personal with anyone except you. I didn’t even know what I was saying. I can’t live without you.” Harry’s cries became louder and louder as his regret first doubled and then tripled in size. “Your hands, your lips, your beautiful eyes - I can’t live without those things on me constantly. I was such a fool to think that I needed space from you. You’re the love of my life! I love you so fucking much. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. I-” Harry's voice was cut by him having to take deep breaths to keep himself together. He placed a hand over his chest breathing in deeply.

You ripped the blanket off of yourself watching Harry closely, getting ready to sprint to his inhaler in case he needs it. Harry saw your reaction to his heavy breathing and rose his hand to gesture that he’s okay. You let out a relieved sign and scooted closer to the end of the bed where Harry stood. When he caught up with his breathing he looked down at you, moving to get on his knees in front of the bed. Harry’s hands flew up to cup your cheeks softly, giving you time to stop him if you wanted to.

“I love you so much, baby. I can’t express how sorry I am to hurt you so much. I don’t need any space from you. I can’t function properly without you on me all the time, without you wrapped in my arms.” Harry spoke and tears kept running down his face. You watched his eyes jump from one side of your face to the other, trying to absorb every single line and curve of your face.

“Fuck, I’ve missed looking at you so fucking much,” Harry speaks up, his face frowning as new tears start flowing out of his eyes. The frown on Harry’s face became more prominent as he understood the severity of the pain he had caused you.

”It’s all my fault.” Harry cries, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, your arms wrapping around him. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Harry kept apologizing the whole night and many days after, not letting you walk further than an arm length away from him. It took him a lot of effort to kick the insecurities that he birthed out of your head, but he kept proving himself to you over and over again.

He is an arrogant son of a bitch, but nonetheless he loves you more than himself.

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[txbbo]

I've been debating making this because this is definitely not what my blog is known for and I was worried that people wouldn't want to see it, but with the amount of shit im seeing on twitter it's compelled me to make this because I'm so frustrated.

I feel like I could make 100 posts about 'Cancel Culture' and it wouldn't be enough, so I'm just going to focus on what caused me to write this tonight - the Tommy situation. *Warning for a VERY long post below*

To be clear, Tommy has been in 'hot water' on twitter for the past couple weeks, roughly starting with the KSI collaboration where he made a joke about dream stans.

Last week, when the SBI 'exposing account' got made and twitter hyped it up, someone made a Tommy account and made a thread of things he needed to be '''educated''' on: https://twitter.com/idktommyinnit/status/1379158964148002821?s=20

I'll let you read it for yourself (and come to your own conclusion) but to me.... half of this stuff does not require a twitter thread? Breaking it down accusation by accusation:

1) 'The Mexican accent' - the clips show he is clearly only doing it when copying big Q (who famously exaggerates his own accent) and there is zero malicious intent (Big Q is also IN the 3 clips mentioned in the thread, and obviously didn't tell Tommy it was offensive). There's debates in the comments from people who think it is offensive and people who don't, so I'm not trying to pick a side. To avoid accidentally offending anyone, maybe it is best for him to stop, but the way twitter acts as if he was purposefully doing this to offend people is just not true.

2- 'Making a slave joke' - Even saying that feels wrong, because it suggests Tommy is doing something awful. Instead, they are referring to the 'bit' that Tommy, Techno, Tubbo and Ant were involved in, when Tommy and Techno took Tubbo and Ant as their slave. People are taking this vod and using it to accuse Tommy of being insensitive to Black people, but I think people are just assuming the worst. Slavery existed long before the transatlantic slave trade and still exists today. This is a role-play server - Tommy 'forced' Ant to work for him and used the word slave, which to me is exactly what was happening? People 'murder' others on the SMP, people 'kidnap' on the SMP, people are 'terrorists' on the SMP, and all happen without issue. To add, Ant is a WHITE man. Tommy taking a WHITE man as a slave is not something uber problematic.

3- 'His reply to Techno's 'murder is bad' tweet'. - I get people saying that Techno's initial tweet was insensitive, but saying Tommy's agreement to this from almost over a year ago is something notable and worth addressing is just super nitpicky and is clearly only in there to pad out the thread. It also makes me wonder what other CC's interacted with it and if THEY should be cancelled too (according to twitter).

4 - 'The saying slurs' tweet / jokes about 'whats the worst word you know' - This one I can kinda see how people might not like it. However, it's clearly a 'poke' at his friends, making them seem like bad people. To me, its in the same vein as 'Tubbo is a Tory' or when Tubbo shoots back that 'Tommy is a Nigel Farage fan'. They're obviously not, but its making fun of your friends by saying they are, and mockingly making them out out to be bad people.

5- 'Covid jokes' - People are taking jokes he made about him 'having covid' and saying he shouldn't joke about this, even going as far to linking it to asian hate crimes. I don't even know how to explain that that this is just? not a 'cancellable offence'? I'm sorry but if I hear anyone in my family coughing I make a little joke that 'they better not have covid' and I know other people do. I have someone in my family who is extremely vulnerable to Covid and if they caught it, would quite literally die, but I can understand that jokes like these are harmless. The whole internet had a running joke that we were in a 'panoramic' or 'Panera' or 'insert any word that sounds like pandemic.

This thread got a lot of attention and anything he tweeted afterwards was spammed with the link and there were so many people upset that he hadn't addressed it. I saw so many people say how 'upset' and 'disappointed' they were in him.

Going on to today, this happened: https://twitter.com/khasiid/status/1380611890104139776?s=20

I get it, it looks bad. But for context (which the tweet doesn't give), the reply was only up for less than a minute. It was obvious to me, even BEFORE Tommy addressed it in his stream (clip here: https://twitter.com/cowrpse/status/1380640046202593283?s=20 ) that it was a mistake. In the clip, he clearly acknowledges his mistake and seems embarrassed. To me, this situation should just be laid to rest because a mistake does not need this much attention, but twitter disagrees.

In case it wasn't obvious by now, the tide is turning against Tommy and people are less willing to ignore genuine mistakes and assume the worst.

Today, during his birthday stream people were clearly already waiting for him to mess up. Around half way through, he started saying 'finna' out of context and Tubbo joined in. This led to tons of tweets telling him he was misusing AAVE, and while there were plenty of people willing to be patient and educate, there were also people seeing this as an example of him being a 'bad person' and someone who should be 'without a platform'. I think people forget that not everyone has the same internet upbringing as they do. In general, I think its noted that the misuse of AAVE is something that has just recently been brought to attention. I learned about it through tiktok and stan twitter, and I don't think it's unimaginable that a British 17 year old boy (who is not active on either) has never heard of 'African American Vernacular English'.

Just for a fuller picture, today has also brought about another 'criticism' that I just had to address.

1) 'Tommy made a KKK joke' - Like the 'slavery' point, saying this is extremely misleading. It makes people think the worst. Here's the clip: https://twitter.com/ghostburz/status/1380673589612011522?s=20

Here, Tommy and Tubbo are both joking about Tubbo's 'bit' of naming his alt streams 'aaaaaaaaaa', 'bbbbbbb', 'cccccc', etc and how it would've been bad if it was 'kkkkkkkk' (for obvious reasons). That is literally it. It is a less than 20 second clip. Acknowledging that people woulda thought about the 'KKK' is not him 'not understanding Black issues', its a throwaway joke about the obvious.

Lastly, someone on twitter has made a tommyinnit (address asap) doc - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1tZEZtBzikS-EYYkssfFtwVOoFqOwCK0zhStLe6H1wCc/edit

I've basically already covered everything in this document, but I wanted to mention how extremely 'guilt trippy' the whole thing is. I struggled to come up with the perfect word for the situation, and I am open to hearing other peoples opinion, but as I have mentioned none of these things Tommy has been accused of were done with malicious intent, and some I believe don't even need addressed at all.

'slavery is a source of astronomical trauma for black people, and isn’t something to be taken lightly if you’re to look into the horrors of the slave trade."

and "Oftentimes they are the last words we hear before we die and it really is not Tommy’s place to joke about words that affect us so negatively."

Are extremely emotional words for a 17-year-old boy to hear on his birthday, for stuff that I believe has been taken out of context and blown out of proportion.

I really feel bad for him, because such a large proportion of twitter (which ofc is the loudest side of the fanbase) is angry at him and is demanding (as the document says) ''either a stream or twitter thread/twitlonger to addressing this' and 'a long and serious apology instead of a short statement pre-stream'.

We all know how twitter works, and unless his apology is perfect (which to me means apologising for stuff that he should't have to, as explained in the thread), twitter will continue with this weird hyper focus on everything he does, and it's not going to end well.

Twitter's mentality of 'putting everything this person has done that could ever be considered problematic' into one neat little thread is so unhelpful and counter intuitive. I got overwhelmed reading some of the stuff people were saying about him, I can't imagine how he feels.

I feel like I have more to say but at risk of writing an essay longer than my actual work I have to do, I'm going to end here.