#deeply concerned for people who don't understand this

[thatpodcastkid]

Magnus Archives Relisten 11, MAG 11 Dreamer

If someone came to my place of work proclaiming they had a prophetic dream about my death I would simply believe them. RIP to Gertrude but I'm just built different ig.

MAG 11 analysis, spoilers ahead!

Facts: Statement of "Antonio Blake" regarding his dreams of Gertrude Robinson, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute (Head Archivist is another odd and foreshadowing usage of proper nouns in the transcript). Statement given March 14th, 2015.

Statement Notes: Oliver I love you but I also hate you so so much.

It's so strange relistening to this statement. On my first listen, I was very sympathetic to "Antonio." He was this innocent man who suddenly developed psychic abilities that tormented him. Even in 121 when he describes what he did on the voyage to Point Nemo, he seems to be driven by fear and desperation. But knowing what happens after Point Nemo and who he becomes in the Eyepocalypse, I wonder how much influence the power of the End had on him. As Jon develops his abilities, he becomes less confident in "normal" social situations, but more confident and stronger in dangerous horror-based scenarios. This seems true with Blake/Banks as well. He's very nervous as his abilities are developing when he tries to talk to Gertrude or Jennifer from Grifter's Bone. As he becomes more attuned with his abilities and gives in to his desires, he becomes more powerful, shown when he is strong and devoid of emotion enough to kill the actual Dr. Pritchard. He becomes strongest when he "gives in" to the End, being most clear and charming as he gives his statement in 121 and the Coroner's Report in 168. Just being able to track this change so clearly from this first statement to the last speaks not only to Jonny Sims skills for character development, but also the power of the Entities to draw out the worst in a person.

Blake describes his dream world as an "overexposed" or "washed out" photograph. The fading imagery was very profound and strong to me. Death is a fear, a horror represented by the black tendrils, but also a simple force of nature, slowly sucking life and color from all things. Unstoppable.

I don't know why I'm harping on this, but I can't understand why Blake's dreams always begin at the top of Canary Wharf. Does that come up again in the show? Is it personally significant to Blake?

Character Notes: I already got into Blake, so my other main character concern for this episode is Gertrude.

Did she ever see this statement?

Did she simply miss it? Was she busy and didn't get a chance to look at it before it was too late? Did she read it and attempt to prepare? She was smart. She knew which statements were real and which weren't. She would have understood what Blake was capable of. Did she attempt to prepare and defend herself but just couldn't manage it? Did Elias hide it from her? Did she read it and just accept the inevitable?

But of course, I have to bring up the Graham mention. I always thought the Graham/Oliver ship was just a fun fan thing, but I didn't realize Oliver had broken up with a Graham in cannon. Moreover, I didn't realize that it was confirmed to be Graham Folger until reading about the Season 5 Q&A when working on this post.

This raises an interesting point about original Graham. Blake describes having a mental breakdown due to his job, and Amy Patel describes her office job degrading her mental health as well. Is there something about Graham that attracts people losing their minds in an office? While it could be something spooky, I do understand why people stuck in mind-numbing careers would be drawn to someone with the time and resources to explore what he actually wants to do with his life, rather than what he has to do.

Entity Alignment: This is very clearly an End episode. I very much believe that, while he may not be the most powerful or dangerous avatar in the series, Oliver Banks was one of the most deeply connected to his entity. His psyche, his spirit, and his physical body were all so entrenched in death. It's interesting that there is no "inciting incident" that causes Graham to become an avatar of the End, as usually there is one event that acts as the root of an avatar's development. You could possibly argue it was his mental health breakdown, but that seems unrelated to death or anything associated with the End.

[lettersfromthelevant]

i swear, every pride month, i end up unfollowing like close to a dozen people--including mutuals--because everyone just gets completely politically unhinged and horrible. either it is aphobia, misogyny, or antisemitism, but soooo many people just go off the rails with it. i dunno what it is about this month, but where i used to look forward to it, i've begun to absolutely dread it.

i used to love pride online because irl pride is so hostile to jews (it isn't that much better here, tbh) and i could at least participate here, but where it used to be mostly sane, it has quickly spiraled into homophobia/biphobia/aphobia, misogyny, and exploitative regressive politics where the entire point of pride is sidelined to appeal to some fucked up groups that this website loves propping up as mascots. no one on here seems capable of being normal about forgotten marginalized groups, like women, aces, and jews. it even has a lead up sometimes; the lead up this year felt like pms, my dash has been so bad the past couple weeks and today the floodgates opened. i haven't seen this much unmasked misogyny and aphobia in a long time and it is only day one. this year is gonna suck, i can just feel it.

all this to say, if i end up unfollowing you and you're a mutual, it isn't personal. i'm just getting close to my wits end

[katsukikitten]

Izuku doesn't have many vices, mostly because he doesn't allow himself to indulge in any. Thinking them more as nasty habits or stains on his perfect PR record than anything else. Like headaches he'd rather avoid or didn't seem worth the bashing he'd receive from fans and haters online.

But that didn't mean he never indulged.

Especially with the weight of being the number one hero pressing down onto his broad shoulders, pushing him further into his sulking as he drapes himself over the smooth bar top. Half finished handle of liquor under his scarred palm, swirling the last dredges of the clear liquid inside as he thinks about ordering another.

Izuku was only here at this tiny lively bar in the small forgotten prefecture of Tokyo because Kaminari dragged him here. The electric blonde wasn't sure if Izuku had a girlfriend or not, he knew his occasional hero partner to be secretive about his love life which was the opposite of Kaminari who often advertised just how single he was. Denki dragged the hulking hero because Izuku needed to “live a little” and it was “cuffing season.”

Izuku didn't know what that meant.

Googling it is how he finds himself on the brink of a spiral with his perfectly white teeth sinking into the inside of his lip before his tongue laps at the metallic tang that floods his mouth.

It doesn't stop his teeth from sinking into tender flesh, it doesn't stop him from swallowing down more burning booze or sighing loudly.

He just can't stomach the thought of having to face his mother without a date during the holidays again this year. Don't mistake this concern for self pity nor vanity. Izuku is not the type of man who thinks he deserves to have people fawning at his feet, hell the man often grappled with feeling deserving of his given quirk on a daily basis more often than not.

But the way his mother looks when she opens the door, how her big smile drops the slightest when Izuku shows up and no one is there under his arm or holding his hand. Or awkwardly smiling as they meet his mom and Yagi-san for the first time even though they'd been dating for a good long while.

Izuku is just too busy, he doesn't mean to be, tried to board his PTO to take a long hiatus or two from work so he could dote on his partner.

But nothing was ever good enough.

He couldn't face that look of worry or concern from his mother, not again.

It wasn't for lack of trying on Izuku's part either, blind dates arranged by his mother or friends, even the agency! Dating app after dating app leading to dead ends or lack of intimacy leaving Izuku to feel hollow, desperate, enough to seek out other lonely heroes that wanted nothing more than sex.

Still he took everything seriously, maybe too seriously, and things just never worked out.

Yet the hopeless romantic in him never wavered and he thought he had one last shot at love when the hero agency set up an arrangement for a PR girlfriend to keep his ratings high. Izuku did everything in his power to make it work, to try to fall genuinely and deeply in love with the pretty woman who he shared his apartment with. Taking her on dates to places like the movies or to see the Sakura. Fucking her on his couch, in his car, over his dining room table after pushing away the dinner she made.

But each action only made him feel empty, more so than before. There was no spark between them, at least not on his end and Izuku couldn't stomach the idea of leading her on. Especially not when Izuku saw hearts forming in her eyes from more than just sex.

It ended in a mess when she confessed she loved him while straddling his lap and he went soft inside her. Fat tears threatening to fall that he blinks away before she gets up to slap him, he doesn't feel anything.

She breaks her fingers.

Breeching her contract that Izuku buys out when the agency threatens to sue her, the only time the commission head ever saw Izuku's bright emerald eyes narrow and darken.

He doesn't understand why he can't keep anyone around, he begins to think he is the problem.

That maybe his expectations were too high? Maybe he didn't devote enough time? Or maybe he really truly didn't feel anything when he was with any of the men and women he dated in the past save for one.

He expected love to be like the movies and of course Kaachan called him a dumb ass for it. That romantic sappy shit, movies that Izuku and Katsuki had watched curled together on Izuku's couch, “weren't fucking real.”

Only for the blonde traitor to move in with a woman he knew for less than six months when Katsuki kept telling Izuku it was too soon to move in with him despite them secretly fucking for a year and knowing each other all their lives.

Izuku finished the second half of his bottle.

His phone demands attention, chirping from the pocket of his jeans as Kamianri’s laugh echoes over the confined space. Izuku reads the banner on the illuminated glass, the text is from his mother.

Is it just you this year, honey?

Before a second one comes through.

Yagi is asking so we know to put the leaf in. We don't mind when you bring extra company. Kaachan and his girlfriend were a pleasant surprise last year.

But I'll be more than happy to just see my son.

Guilt floods his system, heavy in his chest that it forces a groan from his throat. Idle hand coming to clampe and squeeze harshly at the nape of his neck. Finger shaped bruises forming under thick digits in the hairline of his undercut, his emerald curls doing little to hide it. As the pain ebbs pleasantly down his spine he thinks to pat down his jeans seeking out the familiar rectangular outline before he slides off of the wobbling stool.

Pushing open the heavy door to the secluded alley with ease, mind sharp and feet steady as he looks around. Alcohol never had much effect on him due to his large stature and even larger metabolism leaving him to drink an obscene amount of booze before he felt a pleasant buzz. Tonight he hadn't had nearly enough to ease his shattered heart.

Jagged emerald eyes cut through the alley before he lets the tension in his shoulders release but not enough he'd be off guard. He remembers Stain and his legacy, he knows society still remembers the hero killer too. Knows that most heroes don't necessarily die in action but when they're most vulnerable. Throats slit while they were asleep, fucking, or stepping out into a dark alley in the middle of the night for a smoke.

The thought does little to soothe the aching need in his throat, to feel the burn that could dissolve the lump that sits uncomfortably behind his Adam's apple. Pulling out the half crushed pack of cigarettes and placing one between his lips. Dark orange lighter flickering to life as he rolls over the steel and flint before he takes a deep breath.

Only to instantly regret it.

Stale smoke clots his lungs and coats his tongue, still the acrid taste doesn't stop him from pulling another drag. Mind wandering far beyond where he stood, willing the smoke to smother his hopeless heart.

“Didn't you have a campaign ad against those?” You purr, watching the bulky man tense as his head snaps up to face you.

Izuku hadn't seen anything and his danger sense didn't go off when he surveyed the alley but it does now. A tingling in the soles of his feet as he looks up at you shrouded in the shadow of the neighboring building on the fire escape a foot or so next to his head. You jump down with ease and lean against the rough brick wall next to him. Close enough your elbows touch.

Watching the giant of a man fumble over the stick in his mouth making a cruel smile form on your own.

“Number one hero smoking, tsk tsk, what if I'm an impressionable young lady?” You giggle and it clings to Izuku's skin more than the stale smoke, he scoffs.

“You act as if you don't have a vice.” He glances down at you from the corner of his eye before tilting his head up to blow the smoke away from you.

“Everyone has a vice Mr Deku.” Brandishing your cherry tootsie pop you seemingly pull from thin air. Making a grand show of pocketing the bright red wrapper before popping it past glossy lips, eyes glued to the hero hiding outside the alley of the no name bar.

You imagined he'd be in uptown places, where the silverware was gold plated and a shot of patron was twenty dollars. Not here with the ripped leather seats held together with faded duct tape and cloudy glasses.

But here he stands in black jeans, a gray graphic tee with black sleeves from an undershirt rolled up past his thick forearms, smoking no less. The only expensive thing on him is his watch, it makes your fingers twitch.

You roll the sucker around in your mouth, letting it clink your teeth as you watch him, a harsh line for a mouth that smiled so brightly on the news this morning.

Did all heroes do this? Look pathetic in dark alleyways smoking overly stale cigarettes hoping no one sees them? He looks down at you with a calculated, cold gaze, if you were any other woman it would send a shiver down your spine. Especially from how it contrasts to his normally bright gemstone eyes now they looked clouded, jaded with unspoken emotion.

You think it serves him right, yet still your clawed hands bring out a pack of unopened cigarettes from the pocket of your oversized jacket tilting them towards the hero.

“Take these. Those have gotta be at least a year old. They don't make the packaging with the small warnings anymore.” You crinkle your nose at him, his normally doe like eyes narrow as they rove over you harshly before he quirks his brow.

It's kinda cute how bitchy he looks. You swat away the thought and he thinks he's bothering you with his smoke.

“I thought you didn't smoke.” He moves the stick further away from you.

“I don't. I lifted them off the electric blonde you came with. He's a terrible flirt you know.” Cat smile forming around the lollipop sick in your mouth, watching Izuku's eyes flash in warning, it makes you giggle, “Gonna arrest me?”

“Stealing is wrong.” He stubs out his half smoked cigarette, it disintegrates against the brick from its age and not the pressure he applies.

“So’s lyin.” A smiling retort as you shake the fresh pack at him, “I'll even pick your lucky.”

He looks down at his old ragged emergency pack with only the lucky looking back up at him. Bent and half broken from the argument he had with Katsuki almost a year ago about how Izuku couldn't stomach just sex anymore.

Looking up at you but before he can accept the offer you're already gently patting the pack against your palm, pulling the golden plastic that acts as a guide to take off the wrap from the box. Picking his lucky at random and flipping it upside down before you pass the pack to him. He sighs and takes the box, looks down at the fresh pack and looks back up at you. Sees your smug smile.

“Thanks. Going to black mail me now?” He decides he should have another since his first one was so awful. Pulling the dark orange lighter from his pocket to start a good ember.

“No, I think I've got enough collateral.” Flaunting his expensive, classy watch on your wrist. Well about mid forearm for you, “Secrets safe with me.”

Instinctually his broad palms slaps his wrist where his watch should be, as if he doesn't believe his eyes. Glancing back up at you again wholly expecting you to be already at the mouth of the alley but you stay close to him. Well within arms reach and step closer to him still.

He blows the smoke up into the sky again, keeps the cigarette on the opposite side of you.

“I've got more expensive ones in my apartment.” He comments it almost comes off flirty until you see how sad his emerald eyes look. Izuku wants to ‘be a man', wants to take you home and fuck the brains out of your pretty head but his heart swells in agony, he sighs out more smoke.

“Is this you trying to take me home? Ooo so heroes do have one night stands!” A teasing nudge to his ribs, he doesn't even budge, just moves the burning stick up higher so the smoke won't stick to you.

“I don't do one night stands.”

“Then why invite me to see your expensive watch collection hmm? Tryin to get me to steal your heart instead?”

“Maybe I am.” His gaze flickers to you again, holding your eyes as his lids are at half mast.

Did anyone even know the number one hero could give fuck me eyes?

“Steal my heart, be my girlfriend.” He looks down at you, sees what he registers as panic, “Just through the holidays.”

You blink up at him for a moment as he studies you. Drinks in how those black skinny jeans cling to your thick legs, how the fishnets do little to keep his thoughts pure and that little lingerie you wore as a top had his dick twitching. Left fist clenching when his eyes look over a man's leather jacket on your broad shoulders.

He thought about all the jackets he owned so he could replace the well worn garment on your shoulders with his own.

“I'll pay you.” Taking a long drag, feeling desperation claw up his throat competing with the burn of nicotine, “Pay you a lot more than what that watch is worth.”

The idea of it makes you laugh loudly, the pretty sound echoing around the alley as you grip onto his forearm for stability. He had to be fucking drunk, there was no way he was asking a theif to be his fake girlfriend, what was this a shojo manga?

But when you look up at him and see his freckled cheeks flush with embarrassment you swallow down the rest of your mirth.

“Oh you're serious.” Pulling the cherry sucker from your mouth, letting your lips pop around it lewdly, Izuku watches with close emerald eyes his mind wandering down places it shouldn't, especially not with a woman he's just met. Still thick digits twitch as he tries not to palm himself roughly.

“What the number one hero can't get a girlfriend?” You deadpan and this time it's his turn to laugh except there isn't any joy in it.

“Ha. No. Haven't you heard? I'm too much of a ‘fucking nerd.’ Guess Kaachan was right.” He stubs out his cigarette before pocketing the butt since there was no tray in the back alley.

His admission gives you pause, pressing the cherry confection back on your tongue roughly before you pull it into your mouth taking it from manicured nails. Pushing the sucker to poke out your cheek making Izuku's long lashes flutter.

“Kaachan?’ You giggle, looking up as you move the sucker from one side of your mouth to the other with your tongue. Hard candy clacking against your teeth, “You mean Katsuki? That's Dynamight’s given name right?”

Shit shit shit! He hadn't meant to call him that! How did you figure it out so quickly!

“Oh! Oh please don't say anything!” He looks mortified and you watch his cheeks turn as red as your tongue.

“Don't worry Zuzu. Your secret is safe with me.” Crunching down on the last thin layer before the taste of chocolate coats your tongue swallowing the Tootsie roll and Izuku watches your Adam's apple bob while his mind swirls with dirty thoughts.

Thoughts so dirty he almost misses you add,

“Gonna need bigger pay to keep quiet.” Nails tapping his watch, “Sides can't say I'll be a good girlfriend. I hate everything after Halloween. My birthday included.”

“What? Everyone loves the holidays!” He's shocked you've said that and you shake your head.

“No, everyone with good or whole families love the holidays.” You correct and he looks down at you with a frown. Already you pick up on a habit of his, teeth worrying the inside of his lip as he thinks, “I currently have neither.”

“Oh I'm-”

“Don't. I don't need the mighty hero’s pity.” You scoff, sounding a little jaded before you fix your face, turning to a joke as another smile pulls at your pretty lips, “Not when I can take his money instead.”

“Cute.” He scoffs sarcastically, still he can't deny the flutter in his stomach.

“You're kinda bitchy ya know that?” You smile, “The media makes you out to be Prince Charming.”

“I don't look like Prince Charming?” He gestures to himself and you laugh loudly again. He can't help the heat that creeps up his throat.

“Bet you fuck like Prince Charming too. All vanilla and boring.” Struggling to stifle yet another giggle.

“If you accept the offer to be my girlfriend you can find out if that's true or not.” Quickly his demeanor changes, emerald eyes darkening as they slowly drag up and down your body with a sinful gaze. The sight of him looking down his nose at you makes your stomach clench. You shouldn't be considering his offer now from one intense gaze. A hero and a morally gray person never worked out and it was only a matter of time before your thievery caught up with. You really shouldn't but you know what they say.

Curiosity killed the cat

“Fine. I'll be your little girlfriend til new years. When do we start?”

“Tonight.” He leans close letting his large hand slide down your forearm to your wrist til his fingers are lacing with yours, “It's so late, I really should get you home, shouldn't I baby?”

Emerald eyes sparkling with promise that he planned to devour you whole the second the two of you stepped foot into his penthouse apartment.

“Yes, you should. It is so very late."

“Oh my god IZUKUUUUU fuck fuck fuck!” You scream as you grind onto his handsome face, cumming on his skilled tongue for the umpteenth time in the half an hour you've been in his apartment. Mauve nails around his throat as you choke him slightly, shamelessly riding his face to prolong your high, not that he would dare interrupt it. Groaning loudly under you as he slowly yanks at his fat long cock that leaks with pre. Hungry eyes watching him as you let out another breathy moan.

“Fuck and you've never had a girlfriend before?” he laughs in your cunt at your question. Strong hands coming to lift you off his face with ease so you can hear him better.

“I know I said I was a nerd but I never said I was a virgin.” Before he roughly adjusts you back on his cute freckled face, slurping your clit roughly as mock punishment for interrupting him. Your eyes cross and your thighs squeeze his head.

“Fuck.” You whine and he's rewarded with more of your slick as you cum again, Izuku already decided that he loves how you whine curses for him. Feels you start to slump from the pleasure as your body melts, offering you his hand to support you better as you grind into his face before you can't anymore.

Before this insatiable man lifts you with ease, flipping you onto your back when the needle of the record player hits the center of the vinyl. Pressing you into the dark couch with his pelvis as he wets his cock by grinding into your sticky folds, making you gasp out like he wants before he's gently cradling your throat, slipping his tongue into your open mouth as he groans.

“We taste so good together.” He growls, the sound makes you see stars, especially as his fat cock head nudges against your abused clit. Catching your fluttering entrance and it makes you both shudder before he angles himself properly. Slowly sinking in and watching your face for any signs of pain or displeasure. Watching your eyes roll with each passing moment before he rested against you. Giving slow, rough thrusts that grind down into your clit that have your hands shaking at his back as claws struggle to find purchase in his skin.

“And you're telling me these girls didn't stay for the dick either? Fuck Izuku!!!!” Arching your back, if you weren't careful you'd become addicted to him, your question makes him hide his face into your throat.

“Guess sex isn't enough.” He mumbles against your tacky skin.

“That or you're not telling me something.” You gasp at the end, when he keeps hitting that spot and makes you cum each time. Makes a deep tension in you dissipate until you feel as if you're floating, you wouldn't be able to speak much longer.

He thinks you'll pull away but instead you thread your fingers into his sweaty curls to bring his face to yours. To look deep into his eyes even if you struggle before you seal your lips with his. Letting your tongue slide over his until you moan his name into his mouth.

“Oh fuck Izuku, you have to cum in me now. Fuck fuck you're throbbing.” Your cunt clamps down on him at the thought of his warm seed spilling into your milking cunt. He pants over you, still keeping that steady slow roll of his hips but how you squeeze him makes him insane. Makes his hips finally speed up before his pace turns sloppy.

His moans turning into loud grunts as he fucks you with enough vigor the legs of the couch scrape against the expensive hardwoods until he's cupping your throat again but never squeezes. Looking down at you and you don't dare look away as you watch his long lashes flutter, the sight makes the coil in your stomach snap again. Feel him paint your cunt in pearly strings of white before he slowly lowers himself on shaking arms, giving your throat a tender squeeze before he rests his head in the crook of your throat, he hadn't intended for the two of you to fuck already. Hell he didn't even mean to rip off your jeans and set you on his face so he could show you that he really wasn't boring.

And he sure as fuck didn't meant to fill up your pretty cunt with his spend.

“What are you doing to me?” He pants playfully, kissing at your thudding pulse point.

“Stealing your heart, remember?” A breathless giggle as the two of you lie like that until his cock begins to soften. He sighs, slowly gets to his feet before he's lifting you into his arms, it makes your cheeks warm, especially when you look down at the soaked fabric of the sofa.

“I think we ruined your couch.” He laughs at your joke.

“Ts fine, the covers are machine washable.” He nudges his nose into your cheek and you giggle before he's setting you on the edge of the tub as he starts the shower for you.

“Here's how to adjust the water temp if you need it hotter. Most women love it scalding.” He takes a step back, moving to grab for a fresh towel for you. You try not to let your heart sink when you realize he isn't going to join you.

“Oh a real casanova huh?” He rolls his eyes at your playful jab before he steps into his bedroom to give you privacy for the time being. Fishing out a T-shirt and clean boxers for both himself and you to sleep in. Laying yours out on the bed as he smells his body wash float from under the snowy glass door. It makes him smile as he thinks of how you'll smell like him until he takes you to gather your things from your place tomorrow, that or he'll buy you whatever you want or need.

For now he'll relish the idea that you, his fake girlfriend, gets to smell like him, your fake boyfriend.

After awhile you come into the room, clean and pristine, movement catching Izuku's eye of course. When you meet his eyes you smile, give a little twirl.

“It's Chanel.” Letting your fingers adjust the hem of the regular cotton towel and Izuku laughs.

“Is it? Lemme see.” He rises, holds your hand to twirl you again as he looks down at you with a smile, “Perfect fit.”

“Thank you.” You giggle again, feeling shy for the first time under his heavy gaze. Watching the corner of his lips tilt upward before he points out the clothes he left out for you and slips into the bathroom. Surprisingly you don't hear the lock click to the door, Izuku was either far too trusting or he truly did not see you as a threat to his life.

Quick to change into the oversized, old shirt and boxers before you take this opportunity to explore his penthouse now that the six foot four man wasn't pressing himself up against you.

Tiptoeing out of his room even if you knew you didn't need to, whetting your curiosity first with the living room that was adorned with ceiling to floor windows to the left when you first came in. Your breath fogging the window as you look over the cityscape. A snaking inky black cuts through the bright lights, the wide river bed reflecting the lights back in swirling currents giving the scene the stars the sky lacks.

Even this late at night the prefecture is teaming with life, you wonder if it's exhausting for him. To sonder over the lives that carry out beneath his feet. If he wonders if he can save them all.

If he knows he can't.

The needle of the record player bumps against the middle of the vinyl again pulling you from your thoughts.

“Oh.” You squeak, tiptoeing to the old thing and gently lifting the arm. Finding the album cover and slipping the vinyl in with ease before shutting off the player. Eyes quick to find the empty spot on the wall to where the album goes.

Not on the shelves under the player, no those were jam-packed with composition notebooks unlabeled making your curious fingers twitch. The album belongs up on the wall with the rest of them that he organized beautifully. Each piece placed perfectly to compliment each piece of art so that it could be viewed individually or if you stood back you could see it as something whole.

Standing on tiptoes to return its album art facing forward. Taking a step or two back to appreciate it before the notebooks whisper to you.

Slipping one from the shelves, it's filled margin to margin with text about the albums. The notations were meticulously detailed reminding you of placards at museums or art exhibits. Finding the corresponding piece, staring up at the art before your eyes flicker down to the notes.

…when the music swells it squeezes my heart, the lyrics were chosen carefully bringing tears to my eyes. It's haunting how relatable it is to wonder if I'll get a perfect love and if I do that I'm deserving….

You swallow thickly, know you'll get swallowed up by this notebook that you didn't have the time to dissect, especially not with the limited amount of time you had. It felt akin to a diary, something you shouldn't be reading. Normally that wouldn't discourage you, wouldn't have your fingers slowly shutting the book. Normally you'd devour as much as you could with an excuse on why you weren't where you were supposed to be on the tip of your tongue.

For now you return it to the shelf.

Feet carrying you across the cool hardwood to the open concept kitchen that over looks the living room with the album art, expensive couch and the TV. The large waterfall island made of marble, clean and smooth save for a few scattered pieces of Izuku's life he hadn't yet tidied away like the rest of the apartment.

Another notebook, a theme it seems, lying open. A sketch of a hero on the left with text surrounding them before paragraphs of text and few bullet points to the page on the right again in Izuku's slightly messy handwriting. As if his hand cannot keep up with his brain.

Snow Fall - similar to Shouto’s ice quirk…

“Beloved?” Izuku's voice calls gently from down the hall, you tear your eyes away from the notebook and quickly open a few cabinets before you find a glass and fill it from the tap.

“M coming! Just needed water.” Heading back to huge bedroom, smiling devilishly when you find Izuku.

Seeing his body better in the light of the bedroom. Scarred, thick with muscle and soft freckles kissing almost every inch of his skin. The tan spots giving extra attention to his Adonis belt that leads to his fat cock. It makes your cunt throb.

You set the AllMight collectable glass down onto the bedside table, not noticing the fanboy item until you see his flushed cheeks, following his eyes to the PLUS ULTRA cup. The source of his embarrassment makes you giggle again.

“It's cute.” You reassure, jumping on top of the deep viridian duvet, cocking your hand on your hip and pulling your shirt up to show a little skin.

“When's the last time you fucked on this great big bed?” He doesn't answer you right away, basil eyes looking at you before they begin to look through you.

A burning ember gaze sears his memory, he closes his eyes as if that would stop the images from demanding every last shred of his attention..

“Been awhile.” He finally admits, dropping his towel unashamed as he steps into his black boxer briefs. They cup his sac and softened cock nicely, clinging to his thick thighs that have you salivating. The way he ate pussy and fucked was almost good enough to replace the cold hard cash he promised to pay, almost.

That distant look in his eyes made you wonder if there was someone else that held him back from his romantic endeavors.

“Shall we christen this great big bed too then?” A playful tease as you pull up the fabric of his shirt to expose your breasts. He loved the sight, loved how you looked in his clothes, in his bed, underneath him as his emerald pendant swings in your face.

His cock twitches, a tick in his jaw before he's clasping his hands in restraint. Wringing his fingers as he thinks of the last time he fucked in that bed.

He feels the ghost of sharp canines at the nape of his neck, his hand automatically moves to brush over the area. His curls fall over his eyes and he sighs deeply.

“No. I think you should sleep.” He smiles softly, it doesn't reach his eyes and you don't push, “We've got a big day tomorrow. Got to get your stuff and -”

“I don't have a lot of stuff. My outfit was the most of it.”

“You don't have any other clothes?”

“Maybe another pair of pants, some underwear for sure but this is mostly it. So we have time.” You purr, crawling down the bed before you flop onto your stomach. Arching your back purposefully, out stretching your fingers to play with his.

“Then it will be even longer. We'll have to get you an outfit for the party.” He threads his fingers with yours before you let go when his words register. Sitting straight up.

“Party?”

“Yes, baby doll, party. We've got several to go to. Maybe a gala too. Then there's the agency Christmas party oh and…” He bites at his lip as he rest his chin on scarred digits beginning to go off on a tangent as he thinks of all the invitations stuffed in the top desk drawer of his office.

“A gala?!” Oh fuck oh fuck this was a bad idea. When he said girlfriend through the holidays you thought fucking and a private date or two. Not being surrounded by pro heroes you ran from on the daily, identity concealed with a mask.

Not only would you be in the literal lion’s den but you really weren't the most classy type of bitch. You've never really been invited to any big event let alone one that was fucking televised. At least not events you didn't crash to slide priceless paintings off the walls or expensive jewelry off the wrists of the one percent. At least then you'd have your mask to hide behind, the ability to blend into the crowd but now you'd be hanging off the arm of the number one hero.

You'd have to act like a proper lady who definitely didn't crash in vacation homes or half lived in apartments of the rich and the famous while they stayed in their main mansions until they got tired of the same old four walls.

Each gig you promised that this would be your last and each time you found yourself with a new piece of jewelry made from dazzling gems of deconstructed designer pieces hungry for the next heist.

Art and jewelry weren't the only things you've stolen, information and secrets often sold for a lot more but Izuku, pro hero Deku, didn't need to know you had a stash house, more like stash attic, in some rundown home in Kamakura you'd gotten for a steal.

His thighs bump up against the edge of the bed, cupping your cheeks for a moment, “You look…worried.”

“I am worried. Some of these events are televised. Are you sure you want me? I'm not exactly Yaoyorozu or Kendo."

“I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't.” He comes down to press his lips to your forehead. It makes your stomach flutter, it shouldn't, “Besides those will be the easiest ones. The hard ones are the more personal settings.”

He leans back, takes his hands from your face as he heads towards the lights, “I won't let anything happen to you.”

He flicks off the lights, stands by the door for a moment before he goes to shut it.

“You're really going to sleep on the couch? I thought we had to make this realistic.” A final attempt to get him to at least come and enjoy his luxury bed. It was big enough that you doubted the two of you would even touch by accident in the middle of the night. If he was so afraid of intimacy, which was odd, he seemed more the time to fall in love if he fucked. Especially when he did romantic shit like fuck you to music and whisper some of the lyrics in your ear.

You pat his side with sharp clawed fingers, “Come on boyfriend.”

He can't remember the last time he slept in his bed, changing and washing the sheets more out of habit than necessity and as he tries to recall he thinks it's been over a year.

He looks at you for a long, long time, you curled up in his expensive sheets and comforter as you pat the spot beside you patiently but he sighs.

“Maybe another time. Good night sugar.”

“Good night Zuzu bear.”

[americankimchi]

Do you have any tips for writing Obi Wan or any meta in mind with his characterizarion?

hmmm sure why not! i'll give a few tips on how i'd write obi-wan. mind you this is how i interpret the character, so ymmv.

i truly do not like it when fics have obi-wan voluntarily leaving the order. like it's so out-of-character for me in my head that the premise of the story + the writing would have to work triple-time to get me to stick around. now if he's been removed from it by an EXTERNAL SOURCE (not the order. i cannot stress this enough: the jedi kicking obi-wan out is so jarring to me i'll leave the fic in an instant) or somehow unable to return to the order for whatever reason, all is well.

not a prodigy, but a genius. obi-wan is an incredibly intelligent person with an absolutely staggering knowledge base in a wide variety of topics, but all that knowledge was earned through blood, sweat, tears, and time. he sat down with his game face on and put in the work. that's also why he makes an excellent teacher: he knows what most students will struggle with because he struggled too, and knows through experience how best to overcome them. i headcanon that it contributes to why he's such a good negotiator: he's really good at stripping down information to the essentials and communicating that information effectively and efficiently to others because of his intense study habits.

humble, but not ignorant of his skills. it's pretty impossible to fully divorce yourself from pride in your achievements, and i don't think it's healthy to not feel any pride at all, so i think obi-wan has a very clear understanding of his skillset and how best to use it. i don't think he'd be ignorant of how good he is at something, especially since the direct consequence of his aptitude led him to being a member of the jedi council. pretty hard to be blind to your strengths when you're being asked for your input on topics that directly draw from that knowledge.

averse to healthcare. listen i enjoy obi-wan whump just as much as the next obi-wan stan (the desire to put him in the cosmic salad spinner comes with the territory, i fear) but as a character who grew up in an environment that deeply cares for the well-being of all, and knowing that you cannot help others unless you yourself first have the ability to do so, i can't really see him ignoring injuries outside of combat scenarios. like on the battlefield he's got more pressing concerns than a pesky little shrapnel wound or five, but once the battle's over?? he might not be first in line to the medics but i can't see him avoiding them entirely. an army without a general is working at a sharp disadvantage and i don't think he'd risk his men by neglecting his physical health in that manner. note that i said 'physical'. make of that what you will :)

duty. obi-wan is the definition of a paladin. he takes an oath and by the force he's going to keep it. train the boy? absolutely, qui-gon. whether or not anakin chooses to respect that training is another matter, but he did definitively get knighted! refuse to kill anakin? listen he's handed vader his own ass to him twice post order 66 and each time he did it he did it nonlethally. that takes skill. that takes dedication. exile yourself to tatooine for 19 years and then decide fuck it, we ball, and die after Once Again Deciding Not To Kill Anakin Skywalker? step aside casper, there's a new friendly ghost in town. every time obi-wan commits to something the man COMMITS. you GOTTA respect that grind.

flirty but in the sense that he's going to match the energy someone brings to the table. like he's a negotiator. he knows how to read people and figure out the Vibes. if he thinks the other person will be 1) 100% receptive and 2) will respond with a delightful wit, why the hell not? obi-wan's highest stat is charisma and he's got expertise in persuasion. whether they're allies or not does not factor into this equation. he can have a little flirtation with morally dubious and potentially hostile characters. as a treat.

this has nothing to do with his character but i firmly believe that he and quinlan vos had at LEAST a fling when they were padawans. there is zero evidence to back this up aside from a few comics where they were being goofy teenagers together but i stand by this. it is an unshakeable aspect of obi-wan to me that has only gotten worse with the kenobi show.

no matter what, no matter how terrible or devastating or downright apocalyptic it gets, obi-wan kenobi will never fall to the dark side. never. it won't be easy, but that is a line he has never, and will never cross. i will not hear any "obi-wan touched the dark side during the theed generator fight" slander. if that was true tell me why the force theme was playing during his moment of triumph!!! Would John Williams Lie To Us Like That?? to our face?????

anyways i could go on forever about obi-wan because he is My Ultimate Blorbo but this post is getting super long so i'll leave it there. hope this helped even a little or at the very least was entertaining for you to read <3

[theminecraftbee]

Here is how to slowly, completely, and irrevocably fall into having someone know your soul as well as you do theirs:

First, be enemies, but of circumstance. Neither of you were really on opposite sides so much as connected to them. You think he loved them, though, that side that was only your enemy by virtue of not being your ally. He loved them, even if he didn't spend as much time with them. You mock him for this. For calling their leader 'king'. (Later, you'll hold onto mockery like it's all you have. You know it's not a game and you know he was really king, but without your ability to make fun of what's happening, you won't be much at all.)

You have a best friend then. This, too, is almost an accident, although to explain all the ways it's also on purpose will take longer than you have to explain. He's wonderful, and loyal, and going to die. So you die fast and young first, before him. You die in front of your friend. You die in front of him.

You don't regret it, the dying young, because it means you die before anyone else can die for you.

Second, watch your best friend fall in love with him, although that phrase feels both too pedestrian and too much like it's overstating the thing that really happens. You have your own drama for too long to really understand how it happens, of course. You're too busy facing a betrayal that will scrape the inside of your soul forever. (To tell the truth, you've already forgiven him for it, but there's something easy about being each other's enemies, so you keep going, orbiting around each other in betrayal betrayal betrayal. But that's someone else who knows your soul, another story.)

Then your best friend dies, as does nearly everyone else. You sit around a campfire with him. You tell him that your best friend trusts him; you'll trust him too. He stands by your side near the end, the two of you running together, another man's memories on your lips.

You're not sure what you regret, then, but you know there's something that won't undo that's a part of you now.

Third, learn the value of choices, as the universe tries its best to take yours from you. In this one, the people you're by the side of is at once familiar and strange. The finalists who'd protected you last time are now an ugly mix of your chosen soulmate and your enemy by making that choice; you attempt to hold on to your ability to choose even as blood makes it clear you can't. (The universe tried to pick someone who would fit you well, you realize later. More people who know your soul that this story isn't actually about. You care for him too, is the thing; you care for choosing more.)

You don't see him much, this time. You respect each other, though. It's hard not to respect each other after everything that's happened. Still, you don't see him, and he doesn't see you. Instead, you see the end of the game. You nearly hold it in your fingers.

You regret. You regret deeply. You are so tired of watching people die, you think, and you regret more than anything else that you couldn't stop it.

Fourth, become enemies, but this time intentionally. Enemies, maybe, is a strong word; you're assigned co-parents, except bad, divorced ones. There's something hysterical about the whole thing, in both the comedic sense of the word and in the original, more concerning sense, especially given the way you all have thought about your best friend-now-son in the past. (Family ties are a thing you'll come to value; it's just that what the names are don't count, really, not when you do this again and again and again. Plus, it's nice to be able to have an excuse to yell.)

It's almost fun again. Maybe it's almost fun. You trade barbs with each other, and try to kill each other, and this time the consequences are light enough that you try to help each other, too. You see each other a lot. You're enemies, of course, but you see each other a lot, as you are: scared, and tired, and not as frightening as you appear, and happy, despite it all.

You don't regret much. You die fast and young, alongside your allies. You see his face before you do though, and you think he's the one with regrets.

Fifth, trip over him as you run across the first session of a new game. You don't know yet what this one will be, if it will be betrayals, or more stolen choices, or family, or fun, or anything else, but you look him in the eyes and make a choice. You will be friends this time instead of enemies. And it's nice. He and you fit together oddly now, but well, despite the oddities. You've had time to learn to, from a distance, and then closer and closer. (People seem baffled you're friends now. You wish you could explain that that's how these stories go sometimes.)

You're pretty certain he'll leave you when the time comes. He says he's a runner, and not a protector, and yet, when the time comes to betray you, you both know he won't hurt you, and you're both surprised anyway.

"You might regret this," you tell him quietly. You both have scars.

"You might regret this," he agrees. But you also both have choices.

"Okay," you say. "Have you ever fallen in love?"

"Cleo," he says, brushing your hair aside, and he doesn't answer.

"I don't think I have," you say honestly. "I think it's something else. Have you ever accidentally given someone a piece of your soul?"

"All the time," he says, and that's that.

The end is coming soon. You'll find out if you regret it.

[tarjapearce]

I need to know how ranchero Miguel convinced the parents to let him marry their daughter. Was it a shotgun wedding? 👀

Indeed 👀. Bit of Drama and slight angst under the cut.

-------

You had woken up nauseous and dizzy, for the third time in a row. Your mother was concerned. Had something made you sick? She was stricter with the kitchen staff to be more careful. But upon the wafting smell of your usual morning soup, an egg drop soup, entered your room, you retched on the bathroom, again.

You paled.

When was the last time your period came? It was hard to keep tabs when you were trying to attend other business and try to not die in the process. Two months and counting. You barely had the chance of seeing Miguel as well, since he had his own good share of work in the barn.

And he was the last and only man you have been with. Your hands went around your tummy and tears were in the verge of spilling. You were pregnant.

God, you were so scared. You knew how your parents thought of him, and for all you knew, they still thought you were pure.

But as things were going sooner or later They'd find out, probably kick him out and you'd be forced to marry a guy that looked like him to make pass the child as his. The thought scared you shitless, so you washed your mouth, bathed, got dressed and went to him.

He was talking with the foreman of another estate, but excused himself upon seeing you.

His smile faltered when you approached, solemn look, and red nose by the constant sniffling.

"Hey, hey. Come here. ¿Qué le pasa a mi chula?" (What's wrong with you, gorgeous?)

You whimpered and buried your face in his chest. He held you tightly.

"You mom got you on another date?" He rolled his eyes and you shook your head.

"Your dad tried to sell Luis again?" Another shake of your head.

"Then what is it? You gotta tell me,princesa."

"I..." You hiccuped, "I think I'm pregnant."

You could feel him tense and he made you look at him. You thought he'd be angry but the shine in his eyes proved you otherwise.

"¿Voy a ser papá?" He questioned with a excited yet strained voice. You just stared at him and he kissed you, deeply (Am I gonna be a dad?)

"¡Me vas a hacer papá!" (You're making me a dad!)

He was happy and you broke down.

"Why are you crying? Aren't you excited?"

"I am but... Dad will kick you out and... and.. -" You hiccuped and he just held you with a smile.

" Ps, que me eche. I've got my own home anyways. And if... things get bad, you'll come with me. Okay?" He squeezed you tightly and grunted happily, "Dios te vas a ver preciosa con esa panza toda grandota y redonda. Te voy a cuidar, vas a ser mi reina. Ya vas a ver."

(He can do that.) (God, you'll look gorgeous with that big and round belly. Imma take care of you, you'll be my queen. You'll see.)

He just kept rambling things you couldn't understand, but seeing him giddy made your aching heart to relax.

"I'll talk to him. I... Le voy a pedir tu mano." (Imma ask him your hand in marriage)

"W-What? are you sure of it? I mean, I don't want you getting hurt. He might look like an old man but... he knows his tricks.

"Your mother is the one that I'm concerned about."

And he was right.

"ABSOLUTELY NO." She had protested, the staff had been hiding behind the doors, listening to the scene unfold.

"How dare you asking for such thing!"

"Mom-"

"No. Who do you think you are?! Of course you won't marry her! She's set for better things!"

Miguel's eyes narrowed and your heart stopped with sudden rage.

"I want him!" You stood up, stomping your hands on the table.

"I'm old enough to decide on my own, Mom. I... I love Miguel." With every word that spilled from your mouth, she held her heart as your dad just pinched his nose bridge. He had been silent the whole talk, just glaring holes at Miguel.

"Good lord... Just... Imagine the scandal, the people... What would they say about you?! About us?!"

"They already talk shit under our nose, mom. Their opinion is irrelevant. None really approaches us if it's not for a favor."

"You... you brat!"

"I'm pregnant."

Miguel stood to calm you down as the fight kept rising. Your dad immediately straightened up and looked at Miguel.

"You." His voice venomous, but calm, "And you." He pointed at you.

"Tomorrow at church. 8 am."

"You can't be serious! You'll wed them?!

"Your yelling won't make her less pregnant. And I rather have them wedded than having an off marriage child. A sin." Your dad mumbled and looked at you, your rage seemed to be consuming you by how they spoke of your future child. Miguel's expression hardened, a low growl emanating from him.

"Once you're married, I want you both out of my property, got it?"

"Fine! I didn't want to spent my life being a fucking trophy wife for some rich man I barely know."

You were wedded, and despite your dad underlying sadness, and he wanting to swallow his words back, pride didn't allow him to speak and ask you to stay. Your mother didn't even look at your way.

Miguel had packed your things and put them on his truck. You left to a new life with him and your future family.

[kalims]

— MALLEUS DRACONIA | pasilyo

or, sometimes you forget how many decades behind malleus is in slang. in comparison to lilia out of all people, he's like a very clueless innocent individual.

cw. very comical miscommunication (not the bad kind in romantic stuff heh)

wc. 1.4k

note. I can't stop thinking about malleus who really just doesn't get modern slang. this is a small treat ^^

can I get a 'heyy' from my fellow filo babes who know where the title is from

"no way," you gasp. "shut up!" a large smile encases your face, one that you try to contain with a futile cover of the mouth—malleus however jolts in confusion, his brows furrow in what it seems to be concern. he looks like a very confused, kicked puppy (or dragon?) overall.

out of expression, you slap his arm without a hint of aggression but he seems more bothered by your words than the.. hit that didn't seem to phase him at all.

malleus ponders deeply on what had gone wrong, and what he had said. you are laughing right now but your words sounded like you were upset (well not exactly your tone but your words itself,) he frowns, he feels very lost right now.

plus since you are his very special friend he despises you being upset. more so, him being the reason for it.

your laughing gradually decreases once you realizes that there's no one responding to you but the silence. a flicker of concern flashes in your eyes at malleus' very serious expression. "uh.. is something wrong..?" you ask nervously.

even though you're absolutely sure that he heard you malleus stays silent—tense as though he's being held hostage, looking more uncertain each passing second.

"hello?" you try.

you deflate. what is wrong with this man? where is the restart button? you cross your arms over your chest and raise a brow, at the still not speaking malleus.

at times you don't understand malleus and that's a given since even lilia had to go up to tell you that malleus was trying to impress you with fae customs but it's not like you knew that—and not that malleus knew the difference between culture of human and fae separately.

so yeah. there was no way you were gonna realize that the time malleus was trying to convince you to live in a tower with him was basically akin to a.. marriage of sorts? since married couples usually live in the same area, for fae it's the same.. or.. dragons? minus the ring and ceremony.

also apparently that was more important than an actual wedding ceremony?!

to others it was torture to watch you and malleus go back and forth—you trying to ask him out the normal, human way. and malleus trying to bound you to him eternally in the non-normal, fae way. you've lost count on how many times you heard sebek emit the most manly screech you've ever heard when he just so happens to stumble upon his lord..

doing.. courting rituals..

to you.

"M-MALLEUS-SAMA! HAS THIS HUMAN TRICKED YOU?!"

"WHY ARE YOU SHEATHING YOUR SWORD SEBEK—"

anyone could guess which scream belonged to who.

well whatever! point is tsunotaro seems to be unresponsive to you right now for some odd reason. have you done something wrong? (this is very ironic since malleus is also thinking the same.) all you did was slap his arm—oh my god did he get offended by that?

out of realization your eyes widen as your arms retract and hang by your sides uselessly. you look straight in his eyes and say; "I am so sorry," with furrowed brows and genuinely apologetic eyes malleus is struggling to keep up with your first request.

like that time he legit just stormed the diasomnia fridge, stole some poor student's tub of ice cream and high tailed it to your dorm because you were supposed to eat a cone yourself but was unable to due to the work load crowley had dumped you (honestly, what's new?)

so in a way it made you sad because damn was ice cream good. instead of it melting away your troubles it actually did melt instead.

because of some crow.

all just because he would go around the world for you if you asked.

(some cheesy part of you would imagine him going around you because how nice would it be if he saw you as his world? though if you did that to him instead and call him your world you reckon he'll take a few minutes of explaining before getting it.)

in the end malleus breaks. his will to oblige your request just fades in the back of his mind because he does not know why you're apologizing to him for no reason when clearly, he's the one that upset you! "my child of man.. you aren't the one at fault," he looks at you like he's sorry. "it is i,"

what.

now you're confused. "uh.. wait what?" didn't you just hit him? was he not mad about that even though your little slap probably didn't even make him feel anything? "didn't I just hit you?"

his face contorts into suprise. "oh really?" he mumbles. even though there's not much shock after you can tell he has no idea what you're talking about.

now you're even more confused! if he's not upset with that then what was he being all silent treatment about? malleus shrugs at you. "even so, I don't mind. you can hit me as many times as you'd like, I can take it," he says seriously.

you splutter. WHAT. you were literally just listening to him spill tea a couple minutes ago.. that sounds so wrong on many levels and you don't even wanna consider what he's saying because one, that's just weird! and two, sebek would literally strangle you.

and both you and malleus would not like you being strangled like that.

"what. just stop, please," you raise a hand and he immediately shuts up. "what are you talking about? you didn't do anything wrong." you deadpan.

this time he tilts his head. "you told me to shut up didn't you? so I merely did as you told—" he says casually. which baffles you all the more because this is starting to sound insane! did he actually take it literally.

malleus is so pure sometimes.

so pure that you can't help but stifle a giggle. and it takes you a couple of seconds of just containing your laughs to speak again. "i- pfft.. I was just joking," you manage to say in between laughs.

oh that was a joke? he should consult with lilia to tell him all about the current trendy jokes. "oh,"

you realize he probably didn't know what you were saying so you take it upon yourself to explain. "um.. it's like,, an expression of disbelief and uh.. amazement?" you explain. cringing at your horrible explanation, it just isn't your forte.

malleus still nods attentively. listening to every word you say. "I see, thank you. my child of man, I will make sure to utilize this new knowledge," he smiles at you in a way you just can't resist.

malleus is very endearing but..

that sounds.. kind of concerning.

ㅤ

and take it to play does he.

"malleus-sama, have you heard?" sebek chimes in with a certain glint in his eyes. lilia chuckles at the clear excitement of his dearest sun from the kitchen counter.

someone get him out of the kitchen.

malleus hums thoughtfully, should he get lilia to wrap the dinner for you as well? you must be hungry. "heard what?" he answers a moment later.

"the southern lights will shine upon briar valley this year. shan't we visit soon?!"

sebek is true though. if the southern lights really is going to shine upon briar valley then malleus would like to take you there. just so you could see the beauty of it. (and perhaps, he could spend more time relishing in the beauty of you and your existence.)

seeing it will be an experience for sure. though he's seen countless southern lights malleus looks forward to it this year.

plus.. his heart warms at the thought of his people being able to witness it.

a thought pops into his mind.

"shut up,"

malleus says it so monotonously, without any emotion whatsoever that silence stretches across the room in an uncomfortable fog, and if anyone listens closely they can hear crickets.

a cloud of shame washes over sebek's face as his mouth clamps shut. lilia pauses (saving himself from a deep cut because anyone can tell that he's cutting the carrots way too big.) and raises his brow.

"now malleus—,"

sebek bows repeatedly before bolting out of the room with a trail of stormy clouds following him comically.

"what was that all about? look at what you've done. you've upset sebek,"

that's what he thought with you as well. the things you've taught him is surely working right now, no?

ah yes.. next time you meet he should ask you about more of this strange languange.

note. MY FINGERS ARE SO TIREDD

not proofread

ko-fi

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I've been thinking about how Ed starts directly killing people in s2e8. I've seen a lot of worry that this is tragic, that it's Ed falling back into a life he hates with more vigor, and I don't think it's meant to be understood that way at all.

I think it's a triumph.

One thing we absolutely have to understand: there has never been a time on the show when Ed wasn't killing people. That's true for all characters; this is a show about pirates. Even in s1, Ed was leading successful raids and ordering racists skinned. In a realistic sense, nothing has changed.

The difference is in how Ed does not need to construct intricate ways to distance himself from it anymore.

We know that Ed's first time killing was his abusive dad, an event that deeply traumatized him, and it left him thinking himself an absolute monster. His own capacity for violence disgusts and terrifies him, and even though he's been very successful in a very violent career, he needed to distance himself from killing people ("the fire killed those guys, not me") to avoid confronting this part of himself. He believes that the part of himself that is so capable of violence is irredeemable, a monster, unworthy of love.

Even at the start of the season, when Ed is in a self-destructive spiral, it's debateable if he's directly killing anyone. If Lucius had died, he'd probably have said the sea did it, not him. The guy we see him shoot during the raid sequence already had a knife through his chest - it's a step up, and surely meant to be understood as self-harm more than anything else, but that's still a mercy kill, if anything.

Compare to the finale of season 2. These are direct kills, there is no way to argue that Ed is not responsible. It is not debateable that Ed killed all those British officers.

A lot of the worry I've seen around this concern how Ed is going back to what he's good at (as Pop-Pop told him to), and there's an asusmption that that is killing people/violence. But that's not true, is it? Ed's never been good at killing people, his hangups around directly killing are a known character trait. So...what is Ed good at?

Think about how the scene plays out. Ed sees the Republic burning; he can only assume Stede is either captured, wounded, or dead. He's horrified and dazed, his ears ring - he kills the two British soldiers who happen upon him, he decided to fish up his Blackbeard outfit.

What is Ed actually good at? He's a good pirate, a good captain. He's good at keeping his crew safe, he's good at keeping Stede safe. He has to think he's either going to be embarking on a mission to get revenge or to save his boyfriend.

At first, I was very hesitant about the idea of Ed having to go back to piracy, which he says he hates. But what he was actually trying to do was drown Blackbeard, the part of himself he sees as so unworthy of love. He needed to see that Blackbeard is part of him, that he's not a monster or unloveable, that Blackbeard can help him save his friends and his boyfriend.

It's not a coincidencethat the show goes out of its way to make Ed's killing people in this episode as morally easy to accept as possible. The British officers we see are all racist and mean and unpleasant - like, damn, singing 'we shall never be slaves' while making Black characters serve them? Gross! They got what was coming to them! This is the 'racists deserve to die' show, after all.

And Ed uses this violence as a tool for love, to get him back to his boyfriend, to give them a triumphic reunion. I don't think it's a coincidence that this is when Ed tells Stede he loves him, either - he's come one step closer to accepting he's worthy of love, he's more ready to acknowledge what they have.

Ed doesn't have to feel bad about killing those officers. The show doesn't ask him to. He gets to retire while still wearing his Blackbeard outfit - Blackbeard gets to retire, not be drowned with a canonball in the ocean. And we're left with Ed, still with a lot of growing to do and a lot of self-discovery left, but he's closer to realizing that he's not a monster and that he's so deserving of love.

[drtanner]

You know, I think I'm starting to understand why the sharing culture on this site is such dogshit now.

As I mentioned earlier in the week, I spent several solid hours going through my art and writing tags as far back as 2012 and manually deleting everything I found, including all of my own reblogs, because I don't expect my opt out from having my blogs' data scraped to be honoured, and seeing the difference in the way people interacted with my work back then and the way they interact with it now (or the way they don't interact with it at all, more specifically) was deeply and tragically enlightening.

tl;dr, despite having had a fraction of the followers back then that I have now, as well as being an objectively better artist and writer than I used to be 10+ years ago, my work travelled further and people engaged with it more, and they also sent me asks with drabble prompts and questions about my OCs all the time, whereas none of that happens at all anymore. This place was a lot more communal back in that pre-2016 era and generally a lot more rewarding and fun.

There's been plenty of posts going around over the last few years begging people to reblog because that's how this site works, but every one of those posts always winds up lousy with people saying they just click "Like" on things because they like them but not enough to put them on their own blog, or because they don't want to clutter their blog, or because tagging things is too much effort or whatever, and I'm noticing a pattern. There's something that all of these common responses have in common:

All of these people are wholly concerned with themselves and the way their blog looks, or what their blog is supposed to be for, or some other similarly entirely self-centred point of focus.

Listen. Other people have already tried to explain to you that that's not what this place is about or what this place is for or that you can make as many sideblogs as you want if you're trying to curate something specific, and they've had little success in emparting understanding to you, so I'm going to try a different approach.

Here are ten (10) benefits of reblogging that will make this site more fun and engaging for you, personally! ( b ._.)b

You get to keep the thing for yourself, but you also get to pass it along for other people to play with, too! Best of all worlds. How often do you get to keep a thing and share it?

Look in your Activity after you reblog something you enjoy to find other people who like the same things that you do! This is a terrific way to find new people to follow.

Sometimes you'll make a comment when you reblog something and later find that an awful lot of strangers are reblogging it from you directly for some reason. This is usually because someone else later down the line made a much stupider and worse comment and those strangers are now all clicking on your reblog so that they can reblog the post without that other person's stupider and worse comment on it. I like it a lot when this happens. You can get a lot of new followers this way, too!

Even if you don't have the time or spoons to play with jpegs like dolls yourself, your reblog can put the post in front of those folks who do. Playing with jpegs like dolls is half of what makes this site function; give it a bit of time, and the jpegs will cross your dash again with new additions. As it is with anything you love, set it free, and the love will come back to you one hundredfold. 💜

Look in your Activity after reblogging some art or writing to see people going nuts in the tags. You can also go nuts in the tags if you want; everyone loves seeing this when it happens, especially the artist or writer themselves.

Commenting with your reblog is like raising your hand to share your opinion with the whole room, whereas reblogging with your comment in the tags is more like whispering to the person next to you and keeping it between yourselves. Contrary to what you might have been told by others, both are perfectly fine and good and they each have their place. You can do both on the same reblog, even! Take part in the conversation!

If you're too shy to talk, reblogging without commentary is a lot like parallel play. You're all enjoying the same thing quietly together!

When you reblog things a lot, you'll start to see the same people popping up in your Activity feed all the time. These people are your friends whether you actually talk to them or not.

Stuck for something to say? Point out something you liked about the post! It can be something small! Acknowledging things that make you happy out loud is good for your mental health and also your soul.

Reblogging also invites other people who are doing all of these things to find and follow you!

There's so much to do on here beyond checking your dash and occasionally looking at the For You tab. You can discover all kinds of people and things by making a bit of an effort and having a poke around in your Activity feed and on the blogs of people who interact with the posts you're seeing and passing along! I promise you don't need an algorithm to do this for you; the action of exploring the landscape around you on this website is fun in its own right!

Get out there and see who your neighbours are. 💜

[haveihitanerve]

No but okay guys i want you to imagine Damian Al Ghul. 

Little damian who is only ten years old. Who doesn't understand the concept of affection. 

Who colors instead of watching a family favorite movie because he believes it is a sacred family tradition and he is not truly a part of the family, even though they picked this movie specifically so that he could watch it

Who watches Bruce laugh with Dick and Tim and feels resentment because he has never been looked at that way, even though Bruce tries

Who sees Duke and Cass look at him in concern when he gets injured on patrol and thinks its because they think hes weak, not because they care

Who has never once felt any ounce of love from his Grandfather for just existing

Who jumps when Dick tries to hug him

Who almost stabs Tim for grabbing him from behind for a little sibling cuddle

Who does end up punching Steph in the nose after she tousles his hair

Who tries so hard to fit in to this new environment he was unceremoniously dumped into by his mother and grandfather but who does not understand because these people are kind and laugh and seem to like him????

And Damian is confused and scared and on guard because everything comes at a price and it breaks Bruce’s heart every time he sees Damian straighten when he walks in the room, when he eyes Duke and Tim with suspicion, when he tries to hide injuries because he does not want to be seen as weak. 

Just a Damian who is trying so hard and his family is too but hes still so scared and they don't know what to do….

Until Jason shows up. Bruce has been careful to keep the Red Hood away from Damian, to not shock the kid, not freak him out. And Jason is more than happy to stay away, even though it hurts him a little that Bruce just randomly cut off contact. But Bruce misses his son so he invites him for dinner, just the two of them at the manor, in one of the lesser eaten at dining rooms, and its good and easy and almost like old times…

When the door creaks open.

And Damian walks in.

And promptly freezes when he spots Bruce.

And then stares like a deer in headlights at Jason.

And Jason's spoon clatters to the floor. 

And before Bruce can react Damian is sprinting across the room and Jason has thrown his chair back with the force of his standing up and suddenly his youngest his cradled in his second oldest sons arms, legs wrapped around his waist, head buried deeply in his neck. And it all clicks and Bruce scolds himself because how could he have been so stupid??? But its okay because jason is there now and Damian is no longer shaking and when Tim gives him an affectionate punch in the shoulder there is not murder in his eyes but an unfamiliar gleam and suddenly Tim is tackled in a hug and he stands there in shock for a second before relaxing, his arms wrapping around the kid and they rewatch the movie and hang up Damian's drawings and tousle his hair and its okay. Its not perfect, but its okay. And for the Batfamily, that is more than perfect.

[watermelonlovershigh]

Friends Who Share Mutual Emotions {part 3.} (housemate!harry series)

Arguments and Confessions {part 2.} (housemate!harry series)

AN: i've been in a writing mood lately so i hope you enjoy me spitting out these stories left and right lol. anyways, here is part 3 to my housemate series. before you ask, yes there will be a part 4 and hopefully a couple more after that. let me know how you liked it and make sure to leave your feedback. thank you and enjoy!

This story contains: mentions of one-night stands, confessions of feelings, slight angst, fluff

{ housemate!harry - friendrry - soft!harry - au harry }

word count- 1,372

Harry confesses that you're the women he likes and after giving you some time to think, you have an eventful conversation about your mutual feelings and how you'd like to move forward within your friendship.

Looking deeply in your eyes, Harry answers clearly, "Her name..... her name is Y/n." The weight of his confession leaves you standing in the kitchen, completely shocked. When you initially asked him about his love interest, you never anticipated that he would reveal his feelings for you. Although he described some of your qualities, you didn't think much of it, as many people can possess similar traits.

Realizing that you need some time to process his words, Harry rises from his stool and states, "I don't expect you to feel the same way about me or anything. I'll give you some space to think, alright?" With that, he turns around and retreats back to his bedroom.

Now standing alone in the kitchen, you find yourself torn about what to do. On one hand, the man who kindly allowed you to stay in his home as a housemate, who eventually became your friend, and whom you've developed feelings for, has just confessed his affection for you. It seems like the ideal outcome, but what if something goes wrong? You would risk losing your best friend and a place to live.

On the other hand, if everything goes well, you could finally experience a fulfilling relationship. You could put an end to the casual encounters and truly understand the intimacy that others have experienced in Harry's bed. You would have the opportunity to feel his touch on your skin and savor his kisses, something you had only imagined during fleeting encounters with strangers.

---------------------------

You head to Harry's bedroom and upon reaching his door, you give it a hesitant knock. A soft voice responds with, "Come in." and you take that as your signal to enter. Inside, you find him sitting up in bed with his cat Pixie beside him, and the TV showing old episodes of Friends.

Approaching his bed slowly, Harry gestures for you to sit beside him. After a deep breath, you confess, "I want you to know that I have feelings for you too, Harry. How could I not? You're kind and sweet, and anyone would be foolish not to have a crush on you. But, I'm afraid."

Harry turns off the TV to focus on you. "Afraid of what, Y/n?" he asks, "We both like each other. What's there to fear?"

"It's not that simple, Harry," you respond with a hint of frustration. Why can't he see your concerns? Maybe it's a gender difference. Men don't worry about relationships as much as women do. Well at least from your personal experiences.

"Can you explain then, please? I want to understand your fears so we can move forward in a way that works for both of us."

Shifting uncomfortably on the bed, you express, "Harry, what if things don't work out between us? What happens then? I could lose a friend and I might not have enough money to cover regular rent in London."

"Y/n, our mutual feelings don't automatically require us to rush into a romantic relationship. We can proceed at a comfortable pace, one day at a time. Even if we don't progress beyond friendship, I value our bond too much to risk losin' it. As for your concern about losin' a place to stay, rest assure that I would never evict you if things don't work out romantically. You were my housemate first and foremost, and that won't change. Well, unless you want to move out someday that is."

Hearing his words have made your eyes gloss over. You can hear the sincerity in his voice and it makes your heart swell. But, you still need some clarification to move forward. "So like, where do we go from here, Harry? I don't want to think we're one thing but you assume we're something else. I don't want to constantly be questioning where we stand. What's too much or what's not enough."

Harry adjusts his posture, leaning closer to you. He carefully reaches out for your hands and clasps them within his larger grasp, holding them gently as he begins to speak. "As I mentioned earlier, Y/n, we can take this slow. Let our connection develop naturally. At this moment, I would describe our relationship as friends, but friends who share mutual emotions. And in response to a question I know you may have, no, I will not be sleepin' with anyone else. And I don't expect..."

Anticipating his next words, you swiftly interject, "No, neither am I. I mean, being involved with someone else intimately. I can promise you that. Besides, I never truly enjoyed having one-night stands. I only sought them out as a means to conceal my feelings for you. But now that my feelings are out in the open, there's no reason to hide them any longer. From now on I only want you."

Chuckling in relief, Harry murmurs, "Just me, huh?" He was incredibly anxious that you might still have the desire to sleep with other people, even though that didn't make much sense after you had confessed your feelings for him. However, he couldn't be entirely certain.

You lean forward, wrapping your arms around Harry's body, embracing him tightly. "Of course, Harry. I would never do that to you. Besides, most of the men I slept with were unsatisfactory, so I'm perfectly fine with giving up my one-night stands."

Harry reciprocates the embrace, then teasingly asks, "Unsatisfactory? Are you tellin' me those muscular, macho men you brought home hardly ever satisfied you?"

You respond, your voice filled with affection against his neck, "That's right. And when they did, it was usually because I was thinking of you."

"Alright, let's end that conversation right here or we'll have a problem on our hands and break our 'takin' it slow' rule." Harry remarks, trying to maintain a sense of caution. If you kept talking about how you always thought of him while having sex with all those strangers, he'd get hard in his pants and he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable right now. Nor does he want to move that fast. Like he said, he genuinely would like to take whatever you are, slow.

You laugh at his words and playfully say, "Can we take a nap? I'm feeling tired. Didn't get much sleep last night."

Harry nods in the embrace you still hold and replies, "Yeah, we can take a nap if you'd like. I didn't get much sleep last night either."

As you sit up, you carefully shift towards Harry's side where he's preparing a space for you to rest. "Seriously?" you inquire. Although you noticed his exhaustion when he entered the kitchen earlier, you didn't consider that it might be due to a lack of sleep.

"Yeah," Harry begins to coo while helping you under his duvet, "felt awful with how I spoke to you last night. The guilt ate me alive and I couldn't sleep."

Now laying side by side, facing each other, you whisper out, "Awe, well you can rest easy now. I forgive you." As your eyes flutter shut, Harry can't help but think about how you're too far away from him. Even though you're literally just six inches apart in reality.

So without thinking, he draws himself closer to you and wraps you in his arms. Which in turn has you pressed up against his clothed chest. "Is this alright?" Harry whispers quietly. Although he wishes to take things slowly, cuddling is typically considered a leisurely activity, isn't it? It remains innocent and platonic.

"Yes, very much alright." you reply and soon after fall asleep. The musky smell Harry produces along with the warmth of his body lulls you right to sleep. It may be only nine in the morning but with your lack of sleep the night before, have no trouble falling unconscious.

Harry also falls into a deep slumber. The comfort of having you in his arms lulls him into a state of relaxation, leading him to quickly doze off. His cat Pixie has now settled at the foot of the bed, peacefully asleep alongside you both. Harry's once anxious room is now filled with tranquility. The unfolding of your friendship will become more apparent when you wake up later today.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @allthelovehes // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

 // @luv-flor7777  // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown  // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar  // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone //  @goldenkhae // @lntwithhrry  // @shadowygladiatorlight  // @manifestrry  //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts  // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

A Shift Occurs {part 4.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

[historicity-was-already-taken]

howlerofthemoon2, in regard to this post:

Genuine question cause I've been seeing posts of this nature on my dash. Why is this the focus? When we have a clear perpetrator and clear victims, why do we need to focus on how to heal the perpetrators (Zionist Israelis) as they are still harming people (Palestinians) and not actively removing the club from their hand

This is a history blog written by an American Jewish Holocaust historian who is concerned with memory and attitudes within her own community, and this is what I choose to write about in relation to my observations of the discourse surrounding recent events.

You're seeing posts of this nature because people like you are going around leaving comments implying that all Jews are right wing Israelis complicit in murdering babies in Gaza, and it's traumatizing us. Because that is rhetoric which has been violently deployed against us for centuries. You're seeing posts of this nature because people like you are going around policing the conversations Jewish creators choose to have in relation to their lived experiences since Oct 7. We would love not to be having these conversations, but we have to, because of users like you.

I am presently choosing to use my knowledge as a historian to call in parts of my community, and help explain some of our communal responses to things to outsiders. If you would like to see me screaming about how much I h8 Israel and what a Good, Righteous, anti-Zionist Left Wing Jew I am, there are plenty of posts like that. And if you don't like what I write about on my history blog as an American Jewish Holocaust historian, then don't follow me.

Finally, I don't believe that this WAS a genuine question. It's so cartoonishly stepped in hostile, anti-Semitic, fifth-columnist, global JudeoZionist hivemind undertones and assumptions that it's difficult to believe it wasn't intentional. Also your blog only has one post. But, in case you are being genuine, please understand that people just like you are the reason why Jews like me and so many of the Jews who follow this blog feel deeply unsafe participating in non-Jewish pro-Palestinian activist spaces.

[yandere-romanticaa]

I don't think some people understand just how absolutely terrifying Mori is and I want to talk about it.

When you meet him it will most likely be in a casual place such as the street or the mall with Elise by his side, naturally. The little girl takes a swift liking to you and basically demands Mori to convince you to play with her and he obeys. It is honestly a little humiliating seeing a grown man beg for something like that but it is endearing in its own little way. Feeling bad for them both you agree and promptly make your way towards the playground where the three of you spend the day together, responsibilities be damned.

Before you know it, the physician and his daughter become something of a semi often occurence in your life.

Mori himself is silly - tripping all over his words, especially if Elise says something to him. There are times when the little girl says some of the most concerning things totally out of the blue but Mori always manages to shut her up, which feels out of character for him.

It feels like some sort of secret that you really should not hear but you decide not to pay any attention to it. Everyone has secrets to keep, a skeleton or two deeply hidden in their closets, you don't judge Mori for this.

He is greatly pleased with your easygoing attitude.

Mori often sits in his pitch black office, the scent of fine chocolates and cigarette smoke lingering in the air as his subordinates give him their reports but his mind is elsewhere.

He's half paying attention to the executive's words as he grabs a tiny heart shaped chocolate from the pristine red box, its surface shining brightly against the light that is lit close to him. He pops is in his mouth and savors the milky flavour, the sweet strawberry centre giving it that extra delightful kick which he oh so craves.

Mori indulges in the sweets and thinks of you as he does so. Yes, this is something you would love.

The gifts start pouring and pouring, each one more extravagant than the last. They range from fine sweets, good wine, beautiful clothing and letters which detail the senders feelings towards you. The sender never bothered to sign the letters but always made sure to add something like I'm always watching or Sleep well.

It was creepy.

You tell Mori about some of the gifts that are left on your doorstep but never go into full detail as you're too nervous of scaring him off. The older man always somehow manages to laugh the entire sitation away and tells you to not so worry so much. Don't you know that some people would kill to have someone so helplessly in love with them? He sits on your couch, legs crossed and with a cup of tea in his hands, which you served him of course. You talk and talk and his words give shallow comfort especially as time goes by.

Was he being too forward? Did the gifts not suit your preferences? With a sigh he just waves off his men, all while thinking to himself "Ridiculous, of course they love it!"

Mori thinks you're just shy. You just are not used to someone paying so much attention to you, especially to the extent that Mori is. He has eyes and ears everywhere, your apartment is under constant surveillance and not to mention that the apartment itself is bugged, allowing Mori to hear you speak and do your other daily activities.

He knows you better then you know yourself.

It does not take Mori insert himself in your life in more personal ways. No matter who, Mori always somehow manages to make the people around him look worse than he is and in a flash he orchestrates the downfall of your whole entire life. You lose your job, your home, your friends and family no longer speak to you.

Some, if not all are dead but you don't need to know that.

That is when he comes to you, when you are at your weakest, your most vulnerable. He drops the silly act like a mask and his true colours are exposed.

Mori Ougai is a monster.

But, would you rather sell your soul to a monster or be left in the streets alone, unloved and penniless? Truly, your life would be so much easier if you just submit to him and look, you don't even need to do that much! Eat the food he feeds and wear the nice clothes he gets you and you will be golden!! Just, be still and pretty, alright?

It's honetly so jarring to see Mori's personality shift - one minute he is the silly doctor you met and grew to like, the man who says dumb things in order to make you laugh, the man who was willing to beg on his knees for you to just please, wear this cute outfit, it is going to look so good on you he promises!!

And yet, the next moment he is cold, cruel and calculating, the head of the Port Mafia. He is a man of his word and his subordinates greatly admire and fear him, yes, fear. Do not forget that Kyouka literally started shaking when she saw him after she left the Port Mafia, almost everyone who is in close contact with the man is never the same person they were once before. He will make himself out to be the best possible option and you know that he is the reason why your life is in shambles but that's not even the worst bit.

It is the fact that you have two options. Do you go to the streets and die in the darkness, be it from starvation, dehydration or murder? Or, do you stay with Mori who all but guarantees your safety and comfort, under the condition that you can never leave?

He knows you hate him and he is perfectly content with that. You will choose him in the end, you always will.

That is what keeps you both up at night, one with glee while the other with terror.

🕊️ TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @rosemary108233, @itssara-chan, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus

[zapreportsblog]

❝leave him alone❞

✭ pairing : thomas hewitt x reader

✭ fandom : texas chainsaw massacre

✭ summary : (y/n) and a few friends are backroading through Texas and stop at a gas station for gas where (y/n) sees a young man being bullied, well she isn’t one to stand by

✭ authors note : you may have seen some photos of him unmasked but if you haven’t Thomas doesn’t have a nose, he continuity suffers from a facial disfigurement and a skin disease that eats away most of his nose. Due to this disfigurement, his muteness and mental retardation (carried over from the first series), Hewitt is bullied as a child.

✭ slasher masterlist

As (y/n) and her friends ventured through the Texas countryside, the thrill of backroading filling the air, they eventually pulled into a quiet gas station. The sun was setting, casting a warm and golden hue across the landscape.

As they parked, (y/n) couldn't help but notice a scene that caught her attention. A young man, Thomas Hewitt, sat in the driver's seat of a car, his head down, his demeanor downcast. A group of local teens stood near the car, laughing and taunting him.

A sense of injustice flared within (y/n), and without a second thought, she made her way over to where the teens were harassing Thomas. With a firm tone and an unwavering gaze, she interrupted their cruel taunts. "Hey, cut it out. Leave him alone."

The teens exchanged surprised glances, clearly taken aback by her assertiveness. They begrudgingly backed off and dispersed, their laughter fading into the background. (y/n) turned her attention to Thomas, her expression one of genuine concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice kind and understanding.

Thomas lifted his gaze to meet hers, his expression a mix of surprise and gratitude. Despite his inability to speak due to his mute condition, he appreciated her intervention more than words could express. He nodded, his eyes avoiding direct contact as a blush tinged his cheeks.

(y/n) smiled at him, unperturbed by his appearance. His disfigurement and the skin disease he struggled with didn't faze her; she saw beyond the surface and treated him with the respect and kindness he deserved.

"Don't let their comments get to you," she said gently, her tone reassuring. "You're stronger than that. And honestly, I think you look handsome."

Thomas's blush deepened, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't believe that someone would find him attractive despite his condition. He tried to respond, making noises and using hand gestures to communicate his gratitude, but he found it challenging.

(y/n) smiled warmly, understanding his struggle. "It's okay, no need to say anything. Just know that you're not alone, and there are people out here who see you for who you are."

Thomas's eyes met hers again, a mixture of emotions swirling within them. Gratitude, relief, and a newfound sense of hope blossomed in his heart. He might not be able to speak, but his appreciation for her actions and kind words transcended language.

As (y/n) rejoined her friends, Thomas watched her with a mix of admiration and amazement. Her act of kindness had touched him deeply, and he felt a connection he had never experienced before. And as he drove away from the gas station, he couldn't help but smile, grateful for the unexpected encounter that had brightened his day.

As the car pulled away from the gas station, the sound of the engine and the fading scenery slowly became the backdrop to Thomas's thoughts. He replayed the brief encounter with (y/n) in his mind, a mixture of emotions swirling within him.

A little while later, the door to the gas station opened again, and Thomas's brother entered the car, bringing with him a small bag of snacks. He settled into the driver's seat, casting a curious glance at Thomas.

"So, who was that girl you were talking to?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Thomas turned to his brother, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He gestured and signed with his hands, "She defended me. She told those guys to stop. She said I looked handsome."

His brother chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow playfully. "Oh, really? Is that so?"

Thomas nodded, his blush deepening as he remembered (y/n)'s words. He had never expected someone to be so kind to him, let alone call him handsome. It was a foreign and exhilarating feeling.

His brother's grin widened, and he gave Thomas a playful nudge with his elbow. "Seems like someone's got a crush."

Thomas playfully swatted at his brother's arm, a small smile breaking through his usually reserved demeanor. He couldn't help but feel a sense of lightness, a departure from the usual challenges he faced due to his condition.

While his brother drove, Thomas continued to think about (y/n), the mysterious and kind stranger who had brightened his day. He replayed her words and the way she had defended him, feeling a warmth spread through his chest.

As the car continued down the road, Thomas couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter might have been more than just a passing moment. He had felt a genuine connection with (y/n), and he couldn't help but wonder if their paths might cross again in the future. And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to entertain the possibility of friendship and even something more.

[genderkoolaid]

Hi!

I (24 nb) am having a serious issue with girls my age being quite misandric and using radfem rhetoric in their speech.

The issue is I understand their fear and mistrust of men in patriarchy and with many of them having horror stories to share about bad heterosexual relationships. But i am deeply uncomfortable with misandry and i don't know how to effectively point out that no it's not good feminism to hate on men.

Do you have any resources you could recommend me to build a good argument? I want to be prepared for this kind of discussion because it keeps happening more and more frequently.

I know it's not the main topic you cover on your blog but as it is closely related to transandrophobia I was hoping you (or your followers) could still give me some advice.

I wish you a wonderful day

My advice would be to start with talking about the negative impact of misandry on women first (although don't use the word misandry, at least at first). Starting off with "it hurts men" in any regard will likely not go over well, but if you first bring up the issue in relation to a group they already really care about, they'll be more likely to listen. Also, I would reaffirm that having trauma or bad associations with men isn't the problem, they aren't obligated to associate with men in ways that make them uncomfortable or exhausted, and that they have a right to feel their emotions, be angry, be annoyed, etc. Affirm that your concern is with how their actions and attitudes could be causing real harm to others, and that anger being valid does not mean you don't need to take responsibility for how you choose to act.

Some potential talking points:

When women are perceived as manly or masculine, they tend to get viewed with the worst traits of masculinity: butches and trans women are seen as aggressive, violent predators who prey on sweet, feminine straight/cis women. The patriarchy doesn't just hurt women through their femininity, but through their (real or perceived masculinity as well.

Even inside queer spaces, butches are expected to fulfill toxic masculinity: they are expected to be sexually dominant tops, not be emotionally or physically "weak," not do feminine things, etc. Butches can get ridiculed by others, even partners, for not fulfilling these things. Things like balding and small penises, that are traditionally seen as failures of masculinity in the patriarchy, are also made fun of in queer spaces; it seems like queer spaces have issues with how they deal with (real or perceived) masculinity.

When spaces make jokes about hating men, put a lot of emphasis on gatekeeping men, etc., it makes it a lot harder for trans women and nonbinary people assigned male feel safe. Some trans women & genderqueers might not realize their gender because they are kept out of spaces that could've helped them realize because of how queer & feminist spaces act regarding men. Butch trans women and genderqueers often face heightened scrutiny because of their masculinity, from both inside and outside their communities. (Also, send them this article.)

^ As a result of all of that, maybe we need to be more careful with how we think and talk about masculinity. It seems like we are reusing a lot of negative patriarchal stereotypes about men & masculinity in ways which hurt marginalized people the most.

From there, you can bring up marginalized men: you can talk about how trans men, multigender/nonbinary men, men of color, Jewish men, fat men, disabled men, etc. are negatively affected by negative patriarchal stereotypes about men & masculinity- I emphasis that because its how I would go about referring to "misandry" or "antimasculism" without actually using a word. Since misandry (and anything that sounds similar) is such a trigger word for many, its important to set the foundation that there is a big difference between the MRA concept of misandry, and the transunitist concept of misandry. Transunitist misandry focuses on how sexism & genderism* is used to target marginalized groups (specifically trans* people). Transunitist misandry does not say that misogyny doesn't exist, or that men are oppressed in the exact same way women are; its saying that the patriarchy (as a part of kyriarchy) uses gender and sex to harm not just marginalized women, but marginalized men too.

My goal with this would be to introduce and try to convince them of the idea that Misandry Is Harmful Maybe, and then once they realize how its harmful, bring up the idea that this kind of stuff needs to be named. Once they generally agree with these ideas, I think it will be much easier to help them understand why misandry is bad even beyond marginalized men: because the patriarchy relies on harmful ideas and expectations for men, even as (dominant/non-marginalized) men have a different place and more rewards; because liberationist feminism must be concerned with universal liberation, and that means it must be concerned with everyone's wellbeing and liberation; because we cannot disnantle the master's house with the master's tools, and letting any patriarchal thinking in poisons the well of your feminist praxis; because it just makes you a meaner and shittier person. In my experience people who think in the ways you described are resistant (not necessarily for bad reasons) to any kind of criticism towards sexism/genderism towards men, so my tactic would be starting with areas (like women) that they are concerned with not hurting and show how misandry hurts that group. Connecting the harm of this way of thinking to something they care about is going to make them more open to seeing it as an issue in general.

*I use "sexism" to describe the system of oppression based on physical sex, and "genderism" to describe the system of oppression based on gender identity/presentation/roles.

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Okay, I think my request is weird? I don't know haha. It's my first time doing this😔

The other day I imagined a reader being a demon who saved a little girl from her own abusive family and the reader tries to find a home for the little girl, but she couldn't, so she ends up adopting her.

But, after some time, Shinobu Kocho finds the demon and, of course, tries to kill attack the reader, but the reader doesn't attack back. Anyway, when she was going to kill the demon, the little girl stopped her. Shinobu didn't understand what was going on.

Anyway, when Shinobu understands what kind of relationship the demon has with the kid, she decides to protect them (with the excuse of protecting the kid, actually, because she didn't trust the demon at all) and eventually falls in love with the demon.

Sorry, first time doing this haha! I love your writing!

A Home

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Demon Reader

A/N: Not a weird request, it was cute! Sorry for the lack of updates y’all, idk what’s wrong with me. I just don’t have the energy. Here’s one thing at least. Sorry if it seems too jumpy/fast between breaks, it was getting longer than what I’d prefer to do these days. Hope you enjoy, thanks for reading, and thank you all for being patient with me! Word Count: ~4,750

“That’s right, Sachiko, go on.” (Y/n) ushered the young child towards the lantern lit house. “Go knock on the door.”

The little girl took a few cautious steps further along the path to the house before looking back at (Y/n), unsure.

“You can do it, they’re nice people. You’ll be happy here.” She continued to coach her from the bushes.

This pattern continued a couple more times until the little girl made it to the front door.

“Good job, sweetheart! Now just knock on the door like we practiced…”

Sachiko looked at (Y/n) over her shoulder, her eyes were big and her bottom lip wobbled.

“Go on…” (Y/n) nodded, smiling reassuringly.

Finally Sachiko knocked timidly on the door, patchy blanket clutched against her little body, and (Y/n) released a sigh of relief when her sharp ears picked up on a stirring within the house.

“Onee-san?” Sachiko’s voice quivered stepping away from the door when she saw (Y/n) slinking back into the woods.

“It’s time to part ways, you’ll be happy and well taken care of here.” (Y/n) could hear a familiar hitch in Sachiko’s breathing, hear her little girl’s heart speed up fearfully, and that could only mean one thing… “No, nonono, no tears sweetheart, please? Not again.”

But it was too late, Sachiko started sobbing. (Y/n) tried her best to comfort her from afar while also attempting to direct her back to the house.

“What’s going on out here?” A concerned man slid the door open fast, making a loud clacking noise that only made Sachiko cry louder, running away from the man and in the direction of the woods, the direction of (Y/n).

“Who is it dear?” The man’s wife joined him at the door, lantern in hand. She aimed the lantern’s light into the woods and caught sight of the little girl running right into the arms of what appeared to her to be a monster. A humanoid beast with curved horns and sharp teeth, reflective, piercing eyes.

The woman shrieked, flinging the lantern away and grabbing her husband by the collar, practically dragging him back into the house, slamming the door shut. (Y/n) could hear the sound of heavy furniture dragging across the floor inside and she sighed deeply.

“Alright, alright… come here.” She picked up the sobbing girl, tears and snot immediately staining her neck and shoulder, little fingers clutching her for dear life.

“You were gonna try and leave me again!” Sachiko wailed as (Y/n) carried her through the forest.

“It’s for your own good, Sachiko. I’m only trying to do what’s best for you.”

“No!”

(Y/n) sighed again. This had been her seventh attempt at re-homing Sachiko since she rescued the little girl from her abusive home. It was no easy task vetting out potential families looking as fearsome as she did. One would think the little girl would leap at the chance of a normal, loving family, but no, she always came running back to the demon each time.

“It’s not safe for you to be with me, Sachiko. Don’t you want the certainty of a roof over your head, food, medicine… to be able to play with other kids on a sunny day?” (Y/n) beseeched the girl each time to see reason, but each time, Sachiko refused.

“I like sleeping outside with you. You gave me a name and you give me lots of food and hugs and you scare all the bad things away. You’re all I need, Onee-san.”

(Y/n)’s heart clenched an the sweet sentiment, but this was no environment for a child to grow up in. She’d have to search for another viable family and try again, but for now, she would need to find a yet another suitable place for Sachiko to sleep and for her to avoid the morning sun.

“Besides, medicine is icky!” Sachiko grumbled.

An exhausted chuckle left (Y/n)’s lips and they carried on, eventually finding a cave. (Y/n) scoped it out for any dangerous creatures before bringing Sachiko inside. She then used the remaining darkness to gather a bunch of leaves, sticks and even a few fish from the stream.

She made a little bed from the leaves topped with the raggedy blanket she had snatched for Sachiko a couple months ago. It had been brand new at the time, but between the weather and the traveling, it had seen better days. Sachiko adamantly refused (Y/n)’s attempts to get her a new one, however.

(Y/n) then made a little fire, cooking the fish over the flames. After awhile, she carefully inspected one, gently fanning it to cool it off before handing it off to Sachiko.

“Careful, it’s still a little hot.”

“Yummy, fish again!”

(Y/n) felt a bolt of shame strike through her body despite Sachiko’s genuine excitement.

“We’ll be in the city in a couple of days and I’ll get you all kinds of good food, alright?”

“Onee-san is gonna steal again.” Sachiko more so stating a fact than asking a question. She took another bite of the crispy fish.

“N-no! Stealing is bad! What I’m doing is just… really long-term borrowing! Yeah!”

“Oh, okay.” Sachiko said, not at all bothered.

(Y/n) felt awful for lying, but she was trying her best to instill good values in the poor girl whilst also keeping her alive. It wasn’t like she had money, and she certainly wasn’t going to be getting any job offers looking the way that she did. Stealing was the only viable option.

When Sachiko finished her fish, she curled up on her leafy bed and (Y/n) tucked her within the raggedy blanket. The demon recited a little bedtime story that she had made up. It was one of Sachiko’s favorites. Before she could finish, the little girl fell asleep and (Y/n) spent most of the day that followed watching over her, making sure she didn’t seem too cold or uncomfortable.

***

“Yes… Yes! everything I need is right here.” The demon whispered to herself over her bag of stolen goods. They had been caught in an unexpected rain a few nights ago and Sachiko had gotten sick. (Y/n) had fretted over whether or not she could leave the little girl alone or not, but the fever Sachiko had was growing more concerning by the hour, so the demon finally decided to slip out of the cave one night as the little girl slept fitfully. She covered the cave’s entrance and left for the nearest village as fast as she could and broke into a general store.

She filled a bag to the brim with medicines, foods and drinks and slunk back out of the dark store’s open window and ran off into the night as quick as her feet could carry her.

“Almost there, hang on just a little longer.”

She ran, unaware of her pursuer sailing through the trees above until—

A foot was planted squarely between her shoulder blades, the force causing her to tumble to the ground, her bag of stolen goods scattered across the forest floor in front of her. She tried to scrambled to her knees to start shoveling everything back into the canvas bag, but the foot between her shoulders doubled down its force and another foot planted itself squarely on her lower back.

“I thought I sensed a demon in the area.” A pleasant sounding voice stated from above. “But what is all this here now?”

Shinobu’s eyes scanned the array of items splayed over the ground and felt an extra tick of annoyance rise within her. If she wasn’t already putting all of her body weight on the demon, she’d add a bit more pressure.

“Food, water, medicine… what could a demon possibly need such things for? You creatures always manage to find new ways to surprise me. It’s not enough to slaughter humans, must you also feel the need to waste perfectly good food and medication?”

(Y/n) tilted her head to the side, breath hitching when when she saw the point of a blade resting dangerously close to her eye. Above her, backlit by the moon, she saw a woman wearing a seemingly neutral smile, though (Y/n) could sense the terrifying aura she gave off. Then she caught sight of the gold buttons, the durable dark clothing she wore, white collar and welt pocket. She imagined if she could check, she would also see that the kanji for ‘extermination’ would be written upon the back of the woman’s uniform. (Y/n) had done well to avoid demon slayers until now and as her luck would have it, she had been found by a Hashira of all people.

“No, wait,” (Y/n) pleaded. “There is somewhere I have to be. There is a little girl who desperately needs that medicine. If you would let me show you—”

“Oh, one of those demons, are you?” Shinobu interrupted. “I always find the demons who toy with peoples’ lives for longer than necessary to be the most detestable. But I’m feeling surprisingly generous tonight, so if you tell me where this little girl is, I’ll use one of my more ‘gentle’ poisons on you.”

“She’s in a cave not too far from here, maybe half a kilometer at most, eastward, by the stream. I covered the entrance with woven sticks and leaves.” (Y/n) shared, voice shaking, “Please just… just make sure she’s well taken care of.” She closed her eyes tight. Was this really it? It was all happening so fast.

“Thank you for being so forthcoming, how admirable.” Shinobu praised, thought it did not feel sincere to (Y/n) in the slightest. “Now, to ensure you aren’t lying, I’ll be poisoning you within an inch of your life. If I do find this girl you speak of, then I shall make my swift return to finish you off, alright?”

(Y/n) took in a shaky breath, shutting her eyes tightly as she waited for the strike. She prayed Sachiko would not see whatever may be left of her after this…

With a fanciful flourish of her sword, Shinobu took aim at the back of the demon’s neck and—

“Onee-san!”

A shrill voice wailed, freezing Shinobu’s very blood in her veins, causing her to hesitate. The hesitation giving Sachiko enough time to half run, half stumble over to the scene and cover the back of (Y/n)’s head and neck with her whole body.

Defiant, teary eyes glared up at Shinobu as if she were the root of all evil.

“Stop bullying my Onee-san!” Sachiko punched Shinobu in the knee with enough force to make Shinobu at least wince and take one foot off of (Y/n)’s back. “You mean old ugly hag!”

Shinobu blinked, her neutral smile twitched ever so slightly.

“Sachiko!” (Y/n) gasped, forgetting all about her pending execution, “You can’t say things like that!”

“I don’t care!” Sachiko wailed, “She’s—“ Sachiko broke into an awful coughing fit.

“Sachiko!” (Y/n) tried to get up on impulse.

“Don’t move, or you won’t live another second.” Shinobu warned the demon before putting her attention back on the little girl, her other foot finally leaving (Y/n)’s back. “Come here, let me see you.”

“No!” Sachiko refused, still kneeling protectively over (Y/n).

“Listen here, little one. I don’t know what this demon has told you, but you are not safe with her.”

“Uh uh! If I didn’t meet Onee-san, I’d still be getting hits and rumbly tummies and bad sleeps! —Hey!”

Shinobu put the back of her hand on Sachiko’s forehead, more focused on checking the girl over than listening to her rebuttals.

“You’re burning up.” She murmured with concern, the she turned a glare onto (Y/n). “These cheap remedies aren’t going to do her any good. She needs a doctor, fortunately I am more than qualified. Come little one,” Shinobu opened her arms to pick Sachiko up, putting on her best motherly smile, “I’ll take you to my home and make you feel much better.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you! No touch!”

“Just— ah!”

Sachiko bit Shinobu’s hand and the Hashira held her indented palm to her chest, a string of expletives griping the edge of her tongue for dear life.

“Enough! That’s enough foolishness!” Shinobu nearly hissed once she had recovered enough of her mask to not cuss out a child. “Demon, stand. Now.”

(Y/n) found it in her best interest to quickly clamber to her feet, but not so quickly as to earn cause for impalement.

“Obviously the child’s life comes first. I will do everything I can to save her, and if that means working with you, then so be it. Carry her and follow me. Just remember that I’m much faster than you. Try anything, move one toe out of line, and you’re done, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am!” (Y/n) squeaked. “Come here, sweetheart.” She picked up Sachiko and the girl squirmed in her arms.

“No! We can’t go! Stranger danger, Onee-san! You said never go somewhere with a stranger!”

“Yes, but—“

“Kochou Shinobu.” The Hashira introduced herself. “And I’ve gathered your name is Sachiko, correct? We are strangers no more.”

“Shinobu… bu… boo! Boo!” Sachiko jeered.

“I’m sorry.” (Y/n) apologized to Shinobu in a strained whisper.

“Just start moving.”

(Y/n) looked back at the toppled bag of goods, “What about—“

“Time is of the essence. Keep up.”

And so the demon ran beside the Hashira, both focusing on the same goal.

***

They were cutting it very close, making it to the Butterfly Estate just before dawn. Sachiko had passed out in (Y/n)’s arms along the way so no fuss was made when (Y/n) was made to hand her over to Shinobu.

(Y/n) was then sequestered to a room in the furthest corner of the the estate by another butterfly girl with a white cloak. Another demon slayer to make sure she didn’t step out of line while Shinobu was tending to Sachiko, (Y/n) would have to guess. Only guess because her attempts to create small talk with the girl were met with silence.

A few hours past before Shinobu decided to come to the room with an update and (Y/n) had to stop herself from running up to her, grabbing her by the arms, and begging for all of the details.

“Her fever broke and she’s stable. She’ll be fine as long as she rests.”

“Oh,” (Y/n) put a hand on her chest, unshed tears shinning in her eyes, “thank you so much. I don’t know what I would have done without your help. I’m so glad you found us.”

“That would be the first time a demon has ever said that to me.” Shinobu said, seemingly unmoved by (Y/n)’s emotional display.

“Can I see her?”

“Absolutely not.” Shinobu shook her head. “We have a lot to discuss, you and I.”

The combined intense stares of Shinobu and Kanao made (Y/n) shudder involuntarily.

Oh Sachiko, I have found a safe haven, a home, for you, but for me, these are quite dire straits…

***

After hours of intensive questioning, Shinobu was finally interrupted by Aoi knocking on the door. Kanao let her in and the exasperation on the girl’s face was visible to all.

“Our new arrival is awake and currently screaming her lungs out. We’re doing everything we can just short of sedating her, Shinobu-sama, but she won’t calm unless her demands are met.”

“She wants to see the demon, I presume.” Shinobu sighed, giving (Y/n) a sideways glance.

“Yes, but she’s also screaming about a blanket.”

“Oh dear,” (Y/n) pressed her hand to her cheek, “I completely forgot about it in the heat of the moment! It’s still in that cave!”

“Supply her with a new one please, Aoi.” Shinobu asked.

“Believe me, we tried, Shinobu-sama, but she tossed all the options we provided her with aside. She won’t accept a new one.”

“That girl…” Shinobu sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I can go retrieve the blanket.” (Y/n) offered. “I think I could find my way back.”

“Do you honestly believe I would go along with that?”

“You could come with me if you think I’ll run off. Trust me, you’ll want that blanket. I have tried to replace it numerous times, but her persistence and lung capacity is stronger than my will.”

Shinobu stood silent for a moment before sighing quietly. “Very well then…“

***

Once night fell again, Shinobu and (Y/n) set off, (Y/n) still had not been allowed to see Sachiko, they could still hear the girl’s wails as they left the estate.

“If you would have just let her see me, I’m sure she would have calmed down a little…”

Shinobu ignored her and forged onward. Her pride was actually a bit bruised from this whole ordeal. Kids loved her. They flocked to her for comfort. The irony of this single child not only despising her, but also desperately wanting the comfort of a demon, was not the least bit lost on her, and she was not at all happy about it. This has to be some kind of demon art, right? But if that was true, then surely the demon would have tried to pull the same tricks with her, even going as far as to sever whatever hold she had over the child to switch for Shinobu if such a power could only work on one person at a time.

Shinobu pondered deeply until they made it to the cave, (Y/n)’s ‘aha!’ of triumph breaking her out of her thoughts.

“I found it, thank goodness. Gods… it could sure use a wash though.”

Shinobu couldn’t help but agree.

“It looks like it’ll fall apart if washed, however.”

“Yeah…” (Y/n) walked over to a nearby stream and placed the ragged blanket in the water. She then began gently massaging little circles with her knuckles, removing the dirt as carefully as she could. “It just needs a gentle wash. Takes some extra time, but it’ll help keep it from getting worse at least. If only I could sew, but these stupid claws get in the way…” she sighed.

Shinobu watched (Y/n) carefully scrub the dirt from the blanket, finding the contrast between her almost ferocious appearance and her gentle hands bizarre. Why would a demon put so much care into preserving a worn, threadbare blanket for a child?

Shinobu exhales softly through her nose and kneels beside the demon, exhaling quietly when she sees her jump.

“Settle down, you’re fine.” Shinobu took an opposite corner of the blanket and copied (Y/n)’s movements. “Aoi should be able to mend it. It’ll be a patch-job, sure, but at least it’ll hold it all together.”

“That would be wonderful… you don’t need to help me with this if you don’t want to. The water is pretty cold.”

“It’s fine, besides, the sooner this is done, the sooner I can go home and the sooner I can give everyone’s poor ears a break.”

“Right…” (Y/n) gave an awkward chuckle, “Sorry about that. She never really was allowed to have any feelings before so I have a hard time trying to discipline her for bad behavior. She was so timid, I didn’t want to scare her when she was just finally starting to have her own voice, you know?”

Oh, Shinobu could relate to that. When Kanao ran off to Final Selection without telling anyone, Shinobu was beside herself. When Kanao came back safe, she wanted to give her a piece of her mind, but she was also so proud that Kanao had made that choice on her own, that she didn’t really know what to say to the girl.

They finished cleaning the blanket and (Y/n) carried the sopping fabric back to the mansion where occasional wails could still be heard.

“I guess you should take it from here…” (Y/n) said once they were reunited with Kanao, who had taken up sporting a couple of pink ear plugs in their absence.

“No,” Shinobu sighed, “You should come in. Giving her the blanket will only take care of half of the problem. She’s been asking about you nonstop.”

“Really, I can see her? Thank you so much—!”

Shinobu grabbed (Y/n) by a horn and lowered her to her level so they were eye to eye.

“But don’t think that I won’t be watching you very carefully, alright?”

“Uh, uh-huh, yes, I completely understand.” (Y/n) nodded awkwardly with her horn still in Shinobu’s grip. After a moment of studious silence, Shinobu let go and allowed (Y/n) to follow her into the room and almost immediately, Sachiko’s wailing stopped… only to be renewed when she realized that both (Y/n) and her special blanket were okay.

She leapt out of the bed despite various protests and jumped into (Y/n)’s arms.

“Onee-san! I thought you were gone forever!” Sachiko blubbered.

“There there…” (Y/n) tried to shush her, “You need to rest, Sachiko.”

“No! What if when I close my eyes, that mean hag takes you away again?”

“Sachiko…” (Y/n) warned, her eyes flickered to Shinobu in an apologetic manner.

“I won’t be taking her away from you again as long as she behaves herself.” Shinobu chimed in. It was time to start trying to burry the hatchet. Yet make no mistake, at the moment she felt even a twinge of danger from the demon, this tentative peace would be over. She crouched down in front of Sachiko and presented her pinky to her. “You have my word.”

“A pinky promise!” Sachiko gasped, almost looking at Shinobu in a new light. “The hag knows about pinky promises!”

Shinobu’s eye twitched subtly, “Yes… so you understand this is a serious promise I am making.”

“Sachiko,” (Y/n) piped up, “In return, I want you to promise Kocho-san that you will be a polite houseguest. That means no name calling and no screaming when you don’t get your way, understand?”

“But…”

“No buts, it’s time to make up. You have to remember that I’m a scary monster so it only makes sense that Kocho-san would act the way she did.”

Shinobu almost wanted to refute that point. She hardly found (Y/n) scary at all. However, she just wanted to focus on sealing this deal and finally, finally get to go to sleep.

“Okay… fine.” Sachiko pouted, looking Shinobu in the eye again before she hooked their pinkies together, sealing their promises.

***

How could a demon be so sweet and gentle? Shinobu wondered to herself for not the first time since Sachiko and by extension, (Y/n), joined the mansion’s residents several months ago.

Shinobu watched from the herb garden as Sachiko ran back to the shaded engawa, her hands full of dandelions. Sachiko deposited one handful into (Y/n)’s lap, the other on the floor in front of her. Shinobu wondered what they would make, crowns, rings, bracelets, all fair game.

She felt her cheeks warm, not from the gentle sun shining down from above, but from seeing (Y/n)’s fanged smile as she oh so slowly and patiently showed Sachiko how to tie the stems into knots for probably hundredth time since the little yellow weeds began popping up earlier that spring.

Oh to hell with it, weeding the garden could wait. Shinobu surely earned a little break, right? Sachiko already took care of most of it anyway with her dandelion picking. It was a wonder that she managed to find any at all since it seemed that she was always picking them as soon as they would pop up.

“Hello, Kocho-san.” (Y/n) aimed that sweet, fanged smile at her and she felt her knees go a little weak. “We aren’t disturbing your gardening, are we?”

“Not at all, and please, (Y/n), I told you to call me Shinobu, remember?”

“Right, sorry.”

“No need to apologize. Just relax.” Shinobu teased, bumping (Y/n)’s shoulder with her own as they sat side by side. The simple contact made both of their hearts flutter.

“Look what I made!” Sachiko presented Shinobu with a patch of woven dandelions. “I’m gonna give this to Nezuko. It’s a little pillow.”

“That’s very thoughtful, Sachiko.” Shinobu praised, though it was certainly too small a pillow for even Nezuko to use effectivley.

She was fortunate and thankful that Sachiko had forgiven her for their rough beginnings. It took time to really earn her trust and respect, but once Sachiko started feeling comfortable, it was all water under the bridge. Though there were times when she could still be wary of Shinobu’s intentions with her adoptive demon sister. Which admittedly left Shinobu more than a bit chagrined, especially when she was admittedly trying to put the moves on (Y/n) rather than threaten her existence these days.

Fortunately or unfortunately, neither had seemed to catch on to that fact. She would need to step it up.

“And what are you making, (Y/n)?” Shinobu asked, brushing their shoulders together again.

“Oh, um,” (Y/n) finally looked down at her hands. Truthfully, she had been a little too busy trying to steal glances at Shinobu in the garden to really pay attention to what she was doing. Her heart spasmed as she realized she had been putting together a ring during her mindless weaving. “Just a simple ring.” She said, trying her best to sound casual.

“That’s cute, planning on giving it to someone?” Shinobu teased.

“Well…”

“Aw!”

Shinobu and (Y/n)’s attention were brought back to Sachiko, one of her twin buns had unraveled and in her hand was a soft yellow butterfly clip.

“It fell out again.”

“It wouldn’t fall out, if you wouldn’t mess with it.” Shinobu reminded with a smile. She patted her lap and Sachiko quickly sat with her back to Shinobu so she could fix it. “That reminds me…” Shinobu’s eyes slid back to (Y/n)’s face, finding her looking almost guilty, “Where is your clip, (Y/n)? You aren’t wearing it again.”

“You know… it’s just too nice and I’m afraid I’ll break it.”

“You seem plenty gentle when dealing with those dandelions.” Shinobu pointed out.

“Well…”

“You’re a resident of the Butterfly Estate, so you should look the part, don’t you think?”

“It just, it doesn’t look right on me, you know? It’s so pretty and delicate and I’m so… not.” (Y/n) was intimately aware of how frightening she looked to the average person. Horns, claws, fangs and burning eyes… wearing such a pin would look more ironic than a statement of belonging. (Y/n) had not expected Shinobu to look so serious for stating what she thought was the obvious.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush, (Y/n).” Shinobu stated, “You are very pretty, bewitchingly so, and though not physically delicate, I did see you cry over that perfectly healthy kitten that Kanroji-san brought over. On top of that, I picked a color with the intent that it would compliment you. Are you really going to deny me the pleasure of seeing the completed artwork?”

“That wasn’t my intention!” (Y/n) could feel her skin becoming warmer.

“Then go retrieve it.“ Shinobu smiled almost menacingly, softening when watching (Y/n) bolt inside.

(Y/n) came back to the engawa as fast as she could and gave the delicate pin to Shinobu. Sachiko watched thoughtfully as Shinobu placed the pin in such a way that she new (Y/n) would be comfortable and happy with it.

“There, just as pretty as I imagined.” Shinobu smiled. “And you know I’m always right, so it’s obviously true.”

“Yeah…” (Y/n) shared a bashful smile of her own, still staying close to Shinobu even after the pin was secured.

“If you’re gonna kiss, I’m gonna leave.” Sachiko’s nose scrunched up.

“Huh?!” (Y/n) squawked, “Sachiko! Why would you say that? We’re just talking!”

“For now,” Shinobu said mischievously, moving her face closer to (Y/n)’s, “uh oh… I’m getting closer…”

“Ewwww!” Sachiko made a few fake gaging noises as she ran back inside with her handful of dandelions, ignoring (Y/n)’s protests.

“Why did you say that?” The demon’s face buzzed with heat, “She’s going to give the rumor mill around here a field day! Everyone’s going to think that we’re— you know…!”

“I don’t see any issue with a rumor like that.” Shinobu spoke casually, “In fact, it would be even better if it was true. What do you say,” Shinobu leaned in even closer, “will you meet me in the middle?”

(Y/n)’s mouth gaped like a fish for a moment, her eyes flicking between Shinobu’s lips and eyes as if trying to ask if she really meant it before nodding and carefully closing the gap, making sure her fangs didn’t cause too much trouble when their lips finally met.