#he thinks so little of himself that he'd sacrifice himself without question if it meant getting red john

[lisbonsteresa]

climbing the walls over this

[storiumemporium]

Astarion As a Father

Fem!Tav/Reader

I FINALLY GOT A NEW KEYBOARD WITH FULLY FUNCTIONING KEYS LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I elected to write about something that's been giving me brainworms for ages, because I'd been talking about it with someone on here awhile ago and it just infested me. Astarion finding out you're pregnant and how he handles fatherhood. (Or, in this case, doesn't at first.) This isn't my best work but I blame it on the fact that I didn't intend for it to be THIS FUCKING LONG okay 😭

But without further ado, daddy Astarion:

Finding out:

When it comes to children, I think Astarion hasn't put much thought into it beyond 'me!? ABSOLUTELY NOT—'

He has no illusions about his state of mind and his faculties, you see. Astarion knows that he's fucked up, he knows that he's a problem, and he's only entirely too confident that any child unfortunately put under his care would likely end up just as damaged as he is, were they to miraculously make it to adulthood. He's just not equipped for it.

And, frankly, Astarion isn't even aware he can have children... That's just, not something he ever thought to question. He's undead, is he not? That should take care of the...fertility question.

Shouldn't it?

Truth be told, Cazador never told him of the possibilities because it was never meant to be a possibility. Astarion was too malnourished, his victims too short lived for anything to ever have come of it. He was supposed to die a sacrifice, not live to carry his own bloodline (hah) onward.

Were you to ever ask him about it, even jokingly over dinner one eve, he'd be very firm in the fact that it's a terrible idea and he'd be entirely unequipped. He would even go so far as to say he's the worst choice out of all of your past companions.

"Me? No. Absolutely not. I'm sure whatever little devil you managed to cook up would be the most charming child Baldur's Gate has ever seen... But even that magical explosive that fancied himself a God would be better suited to fatherhood, darling. I am built for luxury and adventure, nothing else." All bookended by typical Astarion preening.

So when the day comes and you inform him of the little life growing in your womb?

Nope. Not happening, not even a chance of happening.

The denial is strong with this one.

And when I say denial, I mean that Astarion well and truly blots out what you've said from his mind, as if it simply didn't happen at all. You never had the conversation, you never dropped the revelation, there is no child, he is not becoming a father.

It's not a lack of want— though he doesn't realize that yet— it's true, blinding terror. Before it was just a joke, just something for him to brush off with commentary about how terribly he'd do as a parent, better the uncle than anything else. But now it's a reality and to accept what you've said is to accept that he might well and truly destroy a child. But not just any, yours.

The traumas Astarion possesses heap onto his shoulders and slough off plentiful enough to make new oceans of it. Now, not only is he just beginning to regain his own autonomy, he's supposedly being given responsibility over a brand new life?

(It would only make sense for Astarion in retrospect, that the life you willingly sacrificed to nourish and nurture him would in turn allow him to grow a new life within you. The fool had just been too blind to consider it: The way, fresh off your blood, he could pull back from the delicate column of your throat and you would find his cheeks and ears and chest flushed with the loveliest shade of pink, eyes wide and soft and alive. The way his entire body would warm, going from corpse frigid to something just beneath normal. The way his once-still heart would slowly beat again.

He'd even asked you once- curled together on a familiar silken bed, foreheads touching and your hands clasped together between your chests- if you knew what it felt like to be so, so hungry that all you could even think about was about badly you wanted to eat? How food sounded so good that the desire became crossed and instead felt even more painful and nauseating? How it consumed your ability to make rational decisions, denied you the capacity to control your emotions?

He'd told you then, voice tender and timid and weak, that he'd felt like that every single day for two whole centuries, until the night you'd willingly laid down on that cot and put your life in his hands.

It was so simple really, of course you granted him the strength to create life. It was you.)

And of course it comes to a head before there is any chance at recovery. Your body begins to show the changes, you begin to swell, and Astarion only grows more avoidant and flighty. Because now he can't simply wipe the idea from his mind and continue on as if the child doesn't exist, the proof is there every single time he looks at you. He makes it very clear to you that he will not be returning to your side without a confrontation, a very potentially ugly one at that.

And ugly it is, explosive. Astarion hasn't truly had the time to recover from his life under Cazador, and all of those protective traits he grew remain sharp as ever, returning to the surface as if they'd never truly gone away to begin with. He sneers and hisses, tries his best to dig in and hurt you enough to stop poking his tender wounds. Enough to push you away so he can lick his wounds back open. He'll go so far as to accuse you of infidelity, though he regrets the words the moment they leave his lips, it's easier for him to imagine that you simply grew tired of him, that you were weary and longed for the daylight. That you wanted someone who could hold you beneath the sun, unlike him.

How you respond to this is entirely up to you, but just shy of throwing something truly despicable back into his face, such as Cazador, Astarion will apologize... eventually. If you remain stalwart and patient, if you have it in you to recognize that he doesn't mean his words, that he's barbing you with intent, Astarion will break down in that very same argument, his angry and accusatory rant will dissolve into an admission of deep insecurity and deeper terror.

But if you respond with anger? Justifiable, and Astarion knows that even in the moment as it's happening, but emotions rule him far more than he'd ever care to admit, and he will dig in and relish the reaction he's managed to draw from you. He will bristle and bite back until suspicion and bitterness fully claims his heart, and he aborts the conversation to hide in the shadows.

Astarion will wait until nightfall, until his freedom calls for him. The one thing that always manages to clear his head, even when you prove to be the cause of his muddying. It's a reminder, every time he steps into the cool and dark of Baldur's Gate, that Cazador is dead and he is a free man. That he can go where he chooses and when he chooses to, and not only that no one can stop him, but that you wouldn't even want to stop him.

And that truth is always what brings Astarion home.

Under the distant lonely stars and that cold moon, he has to remember that time and again you have let him. You have accepted him, you have not fought him on anything shy of a horrible mistake he wanted to make in a moment of weakness and hysteria. You have accepted all his deepest and ugliest wounds and kissed them like they were freckles to pour affection on. You fought Cazador for him, you defended him from your own friends. You even- at times- tested your own morals for him.

You wouldn't betray him, and Astarion knows he can't betray you.

Astarion would return to you late, curling into bed at your side, his eyes would not meet you, and his apology would come in the form of a simple confession. "I am... afraid. I am afraid."

Astarion wouldn't blame you if you don't forgive him immediately for his transgressions, he was cruel and you were vulnerable. But even then you'll find that your love doesn't abandon you again. He accepts- however frightened- that what you've said is true and is coming, and he must accept it. Mind you, it won't be perfect and it won't be romantic. Astarion doesn't know the intricacies of handling a pregnant woman, he's hardly tactful beyond his well honed and flirtatious lines. He genuinely loves you, but he's going to come pre-equipped as father material.

You need something? He'll get it with minimal complaint (but never none, you'd sooner get him to dye his hair black than cease complaining for the sake of it), he won't begrudge you your mood swings though he might be inclined to poke fun at you ever so often. And he will panic when you burst into tears for seemingly no reason, and no- time doesn't make him adjust, he will panic just as much the thousandth time as the first.

However, if it's any consolation. The moment your child enters the world, Astarion is a changed man.

When You Go Into Labor:

Astarion did the honors of informing all of your friends about your pregnancy, once he came to terms with it. And believe me when I say it is extravagant. The stationery and grandiose script that Astarion wields when informing everyone that you were expecting better fits a wedding invitation than it does... well. Very elegantly explaining that Astarion had accidentally knocked you up.

You can tell from the splotchy stains addressed to you from Wyll and Karlach that one of them had been crying when penning the message, Astarion has coin on Wyll, and you on Karlach. Lae'zel never responds to begin with and you know for a fact the Githyanki's response will likely come in the form of her simply showing up one of these days, unprompted. Jaheira personally and rather frequently visits as well, she becomes a sort of bastion as nerves take you over, confident and calm as she is. Halsin's "letter" arrives late, rather because alongside his letter is several little carved animals for the child's room, and mentions of a quilt he intends to bring along when next he visits. Shadowheart's letter, while congratulatory, contains an air of interrogation strung all about it, all aimed with pinpoint precision at the man responsible for your pregnancy and dripping with sarcasm.

Gale's letter is seven pages long, comes with a violet hued wax stamp, and multiple different inks in the most lavish hand he can manage. You daresay he's competing with Astarion. However, surprisingly, Gale's seems to be the most... helpful of them all? It wasn't your intent, you simply wanted your dear friend to join you in celebration, and yet Gale goes on to inform you that upon reading the letter he'd become a madman in pursuit of knowledge on pregnancy and giving birth. He admits that this wasn't a particularly fruitful endeavor, as he's rather confident that you're not a gnoll, troll, cambion, succubus, or any other variety of strange creature with strange metrics of procreation. Still, Gale directs the latter portion of his letter to Astarion quite pointedly, informing him of bookshops around Baldur's Gate where he might have more success.

Astarion scoffs, but you don't miss the way his fingers twitch and flex.

After the hilarity of this is resolved and you just begin to believe that peace might return to your soft little home in the city, the first of your companions begin to arrive.

This continues on for the next week or so, without you ever knowing that this had been planned- and without knowing that Astarion had been the one to plan it. It's a furthering of his apology, of his guilt over the way he'd treated you. Again, Astarion has no illusions of the kind of man he is, and the fact he's not nurturing in the sort of ways that you need- but he's not completely stupid and he knows you're scared. So... bring the cavalry, darling.

Eventually your entire home has become a crash pad for all of your dearest friends, your family, and you only grow suspicious of Astarion's hand in this chaos because he's surprisingly amicable to having his peace so thoroughly disturbed by 'everyone and their mother'. Truly, he manages to bite his tongue some of the time about them trampling his fine rugs and scratching the plates. He even seems... wistful about it. As nostalgic as you openly are at seeing all of these beloved people under one roof again.

Nights are filled with raucous laughter, clattering utensils, a table so thoroughly overcrowded that people are playfully shouldering each other out of the way for a chance to get at their own food. And Astarion stays faithful at your side, his hand perpetually clasped gently around yours, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. Days are never spent alone, no matter what it is you need to do, someone (if not everyone) is following you along. And though Astarion feels his heart ache that he can't join you, he'll be glad to know you're safe.

Besides, your companions are likely all taking turns tormenting, testing, and relentlessly teasing him about what is to come. He has his own hands full. He's starting to regret being such a generous lover.

And then your water breaks in the dead of night.

Remember how I said Astarion was far from perfect? This would be one of those moments that it really shines.

Not that he's particularly terrible, no. He's not actively cruel toward you, and certainly not dismissive, it's somewhat the opposite. Halsin and Jaheira end up the ones helping you, the only two with some iota of understanding on what was happening and what to do with and for you. The others, less experienced in "mundane" medical situations will take up the second most important role.

Prevent Astarion from catastrophizing any more than he already has been.

Karlach has been the sole force capable of keeping Astarion away from the wine, typically bear hugging him away from your cellar while Wyll tries his best to talk your lover down from a total nervous breakdown. Of which he nearly has, several times. It's not even the sight of you, specifically. He's okay with being at your side and holding your hand, in trying his best to provide comforting words that aren't laced with sarcasm for once. But the sounds you make, that's what breaks him. Astarion isn't good at hearing you scream from the pain, he isn't good at the choked sobs or your heavy breaths. The way you sound like you're struggling against death. It makes him want to crawl out of his own skin, fight assailants that aren't there.

And for a few hours there, in the midst of your labors and your exhausted, pained little cries, Astarion isn't sure how he can love the child causing you this much suffering. It's not as if Astarion was an altruistic man on his best days, as if he were particularly reasonable when it came to you. You've both come to a mutual understanding that were something to happen to you, no morals would be involved in the things Astarion would do to rectify it.

And now, here you are, suffering. Astarion isn't supposed to do a thing about it? He's supposed to be- what, overjoyed by it? It infuriates him, he's truly prepared to have a grudge match with an infant.

Until, as the sun is starting to creep up on a brand new day, it's no longer your screams that meet the air, but another's entirely. Tiny but powerful, high pitched little squeals of fury and distress. And your laughter, disbelieving, soft, adoring already.

Astarion has a daughter.

I go with the HC that Astarion had eyes like honey once, and that his daughter takes after that, along with the delicate points of his ears mirrored in her own. She's small, so small, but healthy and already feisty, wiggling as best as her tiny body can whilst still too heavy for her to lift and move.

You're the first to hold her of course, and Astarion will be at his knees beside the two of you. The expression he wears is something you've seen maybe two or three other times in the entire time you've known him- moments when you know he expected everything to fall apart, moments where he couldn't believe that the world was so good.

It's then that you can breathe for the first time, and know that both of your darlings will be just fine.

Once he does hold her, he's not inclined to let her go. Even once you ask to have her back, he'll simply move you into his lap, so that he can hold you both. It's better that way anyhow, having both of his girls in his arms. And Astarion will repeat again and again how stunned he is, he just can't believe it. Cannot fathom any of it. I think he's the type to say that he's speechless and then spend the next five minutes doing nothing but talking. It's nervous rambling, but still, speechless is not the term I would use to describe him here.

Astarion With Your Baby:

Once your little darling is actually in your lives, you get to see how hilariously unorthodox Astarion is with children. Especially his own. Astarion doesn't baby-talk like you or the rest of your companions, he speaks in the same exact tones as he would a grown woman. In fact, for the first few days you're adjusting to a child in your life, you sometimes mistake Astarion as speaking with an unexpected guest, only to round the corner and find him lightheartedly chastising his own daughter for her poor nappy conduct as he wrinkles his nose and changes her diaper.

He's disgusted by that, by the way. Absolutely hates it, complains loudly about having to do it. But if you so much as try to stand to help he'll force you back down onto your chair or the couch, something something not useless something something already up, darling. It's as if Astarion is simply allergic to admitting that while it makes him nauseous, he wants to care for his daughter. He wants you to rest.

And yes, Astarion is the type of father that thinks all other children are hideous little fecal beasts and his daughter is the only gorgeous little angel in the entire world. Perfect, can do no wrong. He tells her as such too, in the same deadpan voice he always uses, wiggling and stretching her legs.

"You know, darling. You should count your blessings, you're the only child I've ever seen that doesn't look like some sort of hideous, deformed bean. I can't be surprised though, with as gorgeous as your parents are." And though he rolls his eyes, he's unable to contain the grin that shows his teeth when she coos and squeaks at the sound of his voice.

And yes. Astarion dresses up with his child.

The older she gets the more he does it, little matching outfits and ribbons. Nothing that she would choke on, were she to get her mitts on it. (You had to be the one to tell him no, at first. He did throw a little fit about it, just a small one).

But it's not all lighthearted, good or bad.

There are times where Astarion won't touch your daughter, won't be alone with her in the same room. He fears it, he'll eventually tell you. His... affliction came with it's dangers, always. But he's always trusted that you could defend yourself, and you're big enough that he can't just kill you between one blink and the next. The same can't be said of your darling girl. She's so small and so fragile that, were he to lose even the slightest grip of himself around her, it could cost her her life. No doubt it would traumatize her for life, regardless.

You watch it, too. The way it pinches his brows and makes him wipe his palms against his pants as if he were sweating. Nervous habits creeping up his throat and causing him to pace about like a caged animal. It's during these times that you have to bring your daughter to him. Gently place her in his arms and remind him that he's loved her from the moment he saw her. And where once he held trepidation and queasiness at the prospect of fatherhood, you can see him care so much about this little bundle that he looks sick from it. A vulnerability he can't mask.

And of course, there are times he nearly weeps for other reasons.

Like when she takes her first steps, and immediately tries to run for him.

And Astarion knows he should let her tumble, that it's good to let her fall and get back up again, but the moment her unsteady feet cause her to careen she's safe in his arms. Little kisses peppered against her giggly face. And he'll tuck away against her to try and get his bearings back, but she'll pat his cheeks and tug his ears- and you'll have to distract her with a toy while he hiccups and sniffles down his need to cry. He wasn't ready for her to grow so fast, gone is the tiny bundle that could fit perfectly in one arm, now she's walking. How long before she's dating? Gods, should he be preparing for betrothal requests!?

"I want to be mortal." He whispers to you, one night. She's tucked between your bodies, sound asleep and wiggling from time to time. This is one of the rare moments you and your love can speak to each other uninterrupted, in the tranquility of the dark hugging around you.

It's strange that he brings this up now, you'd spoken about it several times since the Elder Brain had been taken down... But in the past few years since your daughter had been born, all of that had fallen to the wayside. "What brings this to mind, Starling?"

Your hand comes to cup his throat, as you watch and feel him work as if he were swallowing a stone. "I don't want to outlive this."

It's hard to blink the tears from your eyes, understanding the implications.

Were he actually two hundred years old, Astarion wouldn't survive well past the existence of his sweet little family.

He'd been more melancholy the past few weeks, after realizing that your daughter was beginning to function on her own. She was walking, grabbing things, talking in rudimentary sentences. She was even beginning to call him pa.

He'd cried, at that.

"I'll forget," his voice draws you out from that brief reverie. The distress is palpable, but runs low like the tide before a storm. "I'll forget all of this. I don't want to know what I'll become, then."

And when you run your hands up into his hair, to scratch lovingly along his scalp, he doesn't hide the shiver or the way his face presses against your palm, cold and smooth on your skin.

"We'll find a way, Astarion. I haven't given up yet... We just- she's too young."

It's both a strain and a relief, to know that. To be reminded that your daughter is still so small, that he won't be losing her- or you- any time soon. There's still time.

Astarion With Your Teen:

Arguably this is the best time between your daughter and him. It's simultaneously a surprise and yet- not at all? He's more like her confidante and best friend than strictly a father. He isn't one for harsh curfews and strict ways of dress- rather, he's the one she comes to when she's made some sort of mistake. Or when she's angry about something.

In general, Astarion withholds judgement of her, for better or worse. The unintended consequence is that you might become more of her enemy than Astarion, because he's less inclined to punish for questionable behaviors.

It's not that he's afraid of angering her or dealing with push back- rather that Astarion's frame of reference for what constitutes a mistake is ah... rather broken. Even in the beginnings of your relationship with Astarion, the mistakes that would anger him constituted dropping an entire building on his head or... risking being turned into a Mindflayer to help some old lady find her cat.

Not feeling up cute boys in alleyways.

As a result you'll likely need to have a few conversations with him about not being so lenient on her, because she needs to have structure in how to behave. Stealing things is in fact, not okay! And Astarion will listen, but he's always going to be a bit more of a friend than anything else.

A total gossip with her, too. You'll catch them huddled around the dinner table at night, both with a glass of wine (this was an argument that Astarion ended up winning, she's allowed one glass a week, but that's all!) in hand shittalking a storm together. Astarion has become the Baldur's Gate equivalent of a PTA mom, he shows up as stylishly as he can and beefs with the parents of whichever children have upset his daughter the most. And then when they get home they just toss it back and forth together.

But I want to stress, just because he doesn't punish her doesn't mean he isn't protective of her. Astarion is more protective than you are.

Once she begins dating you'll find yourself home alone semi-frequently, because Astarion will play the supportive, loving father part when she leaves- and immediately follow her out into the dark. He's had centuries to know what dangers lurk around every corner, and foggy memories of simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time before his nightmare began. He won't allow that to happen with his girl.

And it's funny, because Astarion will talk mad shit to himself while he does it. Logically he knows that she's with some teenage boy or girl, but it doesn't stop the petty, emotional side of him from rolling his eyes and sneering at the cheap one-liners and the dumb tactics that this would-be charmer utilizes. Really, taking her into dark alleys to get her to tuck into you? Going to a totally secret spot that Astarion has known about for at least a hundred and sixty years? Get real, kid.

And you have to try valiantly not to laugh when he comes home, huffing and puffing about it. Because you will hear every single petty thought he had the entire time, and you will know that he looks like a petulant child. It's very cute.

All in all, I think Astarion is a reckless, chaotic, petty father. And one that loves his child so, so much. To the point of ruin, to the point where suddenly staying in one place doesn't seem so bad, just so she can have friends. Helping people isn't the worst, just so she can know there are heroes in the world. Suddenly he's learning to bandage scrapes and kiss bruises, and having tears and snot on his clothes mean nothing compared to the grief of the one shedding them. He loves her in ways he didn't anticipate he ever could. Enough to know all of her ticks and secrets, to know when she's lying through her teeth and when she's being devastatingly obvious.

Learning to cook even when he can't eat, listening to her spin a story with a straight face and then- as she's stepping out the door- telling her to be careful with that boy and listening to her groan loudly as the door slams shut, a mischievous smile on his face.

Holding you and dancing you around, cradling you close with all the tenderness he has in the whole of his body and soul. Kissing you, calling you the mother of his child, thanking you for giving him something he didn't even know he'd wanted. A family.

Small and odd, but his.

[cebwrites]

could you write hc's for Zoro, Sanji and Ace (separate) having a dom boyfriend? Like, not just sexual sense, but a bf who likes to have his man on his lap, who spoils his s/o a lot and stuff. Ty !!

a/n: hi anon ofc!! this idea is super cute 💕 full disclosure however that i'm not super familiar with dom/sub dynamics and culture so if i mess something up please correct me!

having a dom boyfriend (Zoro, Sanji, Ace)

masc reader, trans zoro and ace nsfw under the cut word count: 1.4k

Zoro

Roronoa "Demon of the East Blue" Zoro, a man who's so unfamiliar with tenderness and warmth that on the first night he trusts his dom to have his way with him - he cries out of the eye that's long since scarred shut when he receives such unearned affection

Zoro would be the first to reject any notion of a higher power but his devotion to you is almost pious, loyal to the nth degree and willing to sacrifice anything for you as he does for his captain

So for someone to want to return those feelings with overt displays of endearment - it's almost and is overwhelming in a lot of ways, not that he didn't think you wouldn't be willing to go all in, he was just expecting more... subtlety

He'd be lying if he said that being so openly and unabashedly desired, loved, didn't feel good, though

Up until this point, Zoro's always been on top - figuratively and literally with how he rode his previous partners into the sunset - so letting you in with these current new arrangements was a different ordeal entirely

Handing the reigns over and learning to relax, without being the one in control, wasn't easy, but you made sure to repay him handsomely every chance you got with delicate, loving touches and words of praise whispered into his ears

He's surprisingly obedient, and oh so sweet, making the most beautiful sounds you've ever heard from another man as you slowly, carefully, open him up, kiss the scars underneath his pecs and trace the diagonal one across his torso with your tongue

He's desperate, silently begging for you to fully take him already, but Zoro promised not to whine so he bites his tongue like the well-trained beast he is

His reward? Hours of being able to let out as much of his voice as he wants until Zoro's throat is raw or the hotel manager bangs on the door for "the loud one" to quiet down, saccharine sips of sake and kisses in the long moments of aftercare between,

And inevitably being playfully side-eyed by Robin, Franky, and Brook when the two of you stumble back to the Sunny at the crack of dawn, one of your arms around Zoro's sleepy (and a little wobbly) figure no doubt intending to pass out again for another few hours, and the other holding bags of goodies for your mossy boyfriend - most of them alcoholic in content

Sanji

It's a constant fight for Sanji to get used to this, grappling with the need to spoil you and cater to your every whim- and his general feelings of wanting to be swallowed by the earth when you give him a look and say that you're supposed to be spoiling him instead

Blackleg Sanji, someone who's similarly been depraved of affection like his mossy green counterpart, unsurprisingly finds himself bursting at the seams to serve you, the light and love of his life, someone with the angelic kindness to smile upon and choose him of all people to be your sub

You don't question how eager he is to throw himself at your feet "in the presence of a man as dashingly handsome" as you, his words, but you do find it incredibly cute when he melts just a little bit at your quiet affection

It's meant to be purely physical, a pretty stranger who visited your house for the duration of the Strawhats' stay on this island (you'd approached him with your proposition and according to Nwami-swan they'd be stuck here for a few months because of this that and the other, so what the hell, right?)

He wasn't a complete noob, Sanji could figure out what to do and what went where generally, but he was still wholly new to this and near entirely reliant on your guidance - he'd heard of people doing things like this behind closed doors and discussed it with the ladies on Momoiro sure, but actually engaging in it? A completely different story

A glutton for punishment, Nami stares with intent at the rope burns on hairy arms when Sanji rolls his sleeves up to prepare dinner and Usopp pointedly avoids prolonged eye-contact with Sanji if he can help it, Zoro only fixes him with a big ol' Cheshire grin as he's kicked out of the kitchen for trying to smuggle more booze and pointing out certain marks under his collar

Sanji does, however, get a bit squirmy in the aftercare if your touch is a tad too soft, a bit too kind with your words, pad him down with a damp hand towel with just too much tenderness - as if a loving embrace was alien to him or like he felt it wasn't deserved

Sanji always hurried out on these nights, coming back to the ship in a tizz a little out of sorts and praying that no one was there to see him agonizing his commitment allergy over the railing, but on any other occasion he'd stay to make a light snack for the both of you to eat in comfortable silence

On the Strawhats' very last night docked at this island, Sanji made you a beautiful meal and spent the night bending, twisting to your every whim, breaking the news at dinner so you knew this would be your last chance - he was obedient and giving as ever, not once complaining and even encouraged the hand prints on his hips

At dawn he leaves you with breakfast in bed and robbed of a heart, knowing that he was the one (pirate) that got away

Ace

Spoiled and proud of it - Ace is a bratty sub who loves nothing more than to whittle down his lover's very last nerve, reaping the fruits of his hard work when he's bent over that man's desk and hollowed out for hours

He walks with a waddle the next morning but is no less proud of himself every damn time

He can and WILL drain 👏 your 👏 pockets 👏👏👏 - you're paying for breakfast, lunch, and dinner - and whatever cute little lace outfit you (he) think he'll look cute in later

Ace fancies himself a (promiscuous) little jackrabbit and he definitely lives up to that title, it takes a lot to wear him out and god he'll make you work for it, too

He's down to clown in most places that isn't outright in the public eye but he's been known to skirt boundaries with a little persuasion and the need to tease - his favorite by far is the underside of your desk while someone else is on the other side droning on about whatever

Ace lives to tease and he yearns for the punishment from riling you up all day, degradation and being mean isn't frowned upon (in some cases he's waiting for it) but don't go too far or you'll actually hurt his feelings - all that fire has to come from a heart, of course

He's loud and shamelessly proud, even if the place is risqué, even if the neighbors across the street have full view of the curtainless window he's enticed you to fuck him in front of, the neighbors can talk all the shit they want but it doesn't bother him none

He'll sing your praises to the high heavens through punishment or reward, apologies or howls of affection, Ace wants nothing more than for you to know how good you make him feel, mark up your back and have you leave hickeys on his neck in return so everyone knows he belongs to you and you alone

He blows up your pager with messages all day to come to the ship and plow his pussy already, hangs around your work place and shows little flame hearts at you outside the window despite the amount of times you've nagged that he's being a fire hazard, snuggles in your lap on your lunch break that always ends up going 5-10 minutes over the limit - you got an earful from your boss the one time it went over an hour, watching Ace sneakily leaving out the back door and blowing a kiss at you like the little rat (affectionate) he was

Long distance isn't ideal, but he really likes you so he makes it work; if it means he has to be a bratty sub to monopolize your time then so be it, he wants all your attention and he wants it now!

[fixfoxnox]

These Bones Are Broken

Summary: Roach nearly loses someone he cares about and it causes a break in his mask.

Warnings: Panic Attacks, Skin Picking, Hair Pulling, Mental Break, Discussions of torture

Note: A comm from the wonderful @theunbitten thank you <3

Roach was something of a statue. That's what Soap said, at least. 

He was quiet and he was focused. A beast with a single-minded determination to his cause. Nothing seemed to bother him, nothing ever distracted him from the end goal. It was as impressive as it was intimidating.

Soap and Gaz had witnessed him unflinchingly torturing men, sparking the pieces of a car battery together in preparation for getting information on their next target. They'd watched him mow down waves of enemies without ever wavering. No exhaustion, no fear, no nothing. He was a statue. 

At times, Soap found himself tempted to say Roach didn't feel anything at all. He was a robot or couldn't feel pain or something equally as terrifying. He thought Roach was incapable of anything except for his focus and his work. He knew he was wrong, even if it was hard to believe at times. 

He'd seen Roach's emotions in little tics. The twitching of his eyebrow or the slight curve of his lips. The way his voice would waver with anger and grow stronger in victory. Roach hid well. He hid all of those emotions that he had with so much skill. Soap knew better, though. He was smarter when it came to emotions than anyone gave him credit for. He could see right through Roach's walls. 

Sometimes, it was difficult. He would question himself as he watched Roach blow a man's brains out right in front of his family. He wondered if he was seeing things that weren't there as Roach flayed a man alive, desperate for information.

He knew he wasn't imagining things, though. It was just hard to see. It was hard to see because Roach never broke.

Roach gave an annoyed huff through the mask covering the bottom of his face, the puff of heat warming his face for only a short moment. The little huff was the first bit of emotion he'd managed to give since he'd stepped outside to meet Soap and Gaz.

The two were finally back from what was meant to be a short recon mission. Roach could only assume it had turned to shit, considering he'd lost comms with the two about an hour into the job. It was enough of a shock that he'd nearly had a panic attack the moment the comms went out. 

He'd spent an hour pacing around their little base of operations. He kept tugging at his hair and picking at his nails, forcing himself not to move from the room he was in. He knew if he did, he'd immediately make his way out to the van in the garage and try to stage a rescue operation. He hadn't even known if the two needed rescuing. 

His mind, of course, had spiraled. He couldn't help but think of his first life, of that mission where they'd been separated and the comms had been shit. He'd spent his time panicking over it, thinking of what could have happened after smoke and fire filled his lungs and choked the life from his chest. 

He'd run through every scenario. Shepherd's men turning on Soap and Price, gunning them down as they tried desperately to escape the mess they'd been led into. One of the two sacrificing themself for the other, running into the battle as a distraction so at least one of them could get away. 

He knew it would have been Price to do so. He hadn't known the man for long, but he knew him well enough to know that Soap was like a son to him and he wasn't going to risk losing him. From what Soap shared with him in that first life, he knew it was because the man hadn't been able to protect Gaz. He knew he wouldn't be likely to make the same mistake with Soap.

He knew Soap though, much better than he knew Price. He knew Soap wasn’t the type to let that happen so easily. He wasn't the type to let people sacrifice themselves for him. He already felt guilty enough about the deaths he had no control over. Roach couldn't see Soap allowing Price to even think of doing something like that. 

On occasion, he let himself dream that maybe the two made it out alive. Maybe there was some sort of kindness in the universe and only he and Simon were killed that day. Maybe only they had faced the sting of betrayal and the pain of a bullet. 

 He couldn't let himself have even that. He knew that even if the two had survived, even if they'd somehow managed to stop Shepherd, they would have been fugitives. They would be on the run and, knowing them, they wouldn't give up on the mission. They'd keep chasing Makarov until they killed him or he finally killed them. No matter what, he knew they likely hadn’t made it out alive. 

The thoughts never helped him in moments like this. His entire goal had been to stop anything like what happened in the first life from ever happening again. He wouldn't let anyone he cared about be hurt, ever again. Not when he’d been given an opportunity to stop it.

He'd been brought violently back to himself by another tug at his hair, this one much harsher. He hadn't even realized how tight he'd made his grip or how much he was yanking. Not until he pulled his hand back and looked down at the clump of hair laid in his palm. 

He'd stared at it for a long moment, scrutinizing the little tuft and the way his hand shook around it. It was ridiculous. He was behaving poorly, letting his feelings run wild. He couldn't do that, not now, not when he had such an important mission to focus on. 

He'd clenched his jaw in a flash of anger. His teeth gave a painful protest as he grinded them together, taking a long careful moment to come back to himself. He didn't have time for any of this, he needed to try to get communication with the two men back up, to find out what happened and where the two were. If they needed help. 

It was a short walk over to a trash so he could let the hair fall freely from his hand, out of sight and out of mind. He relaxed his jaw and let his face fall into something more neutral, something more blank. No one was around to see, there was no reason for it. But, he knew, he knew that if he didn't do something to hide how he was really feeling at that moment, it would be hard to hide it all later, when he needed to. 

He'd managed to finally get comms back up after another thirty minutes. He only allowed himself a small sigh of relief when both of the men confirmed they were okay and were in their transport. According to them, things had gone tits up.

It wasn't until they'd arrived that Roach got a proper answer about what happened. 

“You're both alright?” Roach gave them both a quick once over, noting a few new scratches and bruises, but nothing that seemed too bad. His eyes traced over Soap's body in particular, checking him for anything that might indicate he needed immediate medical attention. He knew he wouldn't be able to calm himself until his eyes had their fill. The most he'd noticed was the curious way that Soap was standing, clearly favoring one side over the other. 

Roach narrowed his eyes at the man and opened his mouth to question him, he was beaten to it by the man himself, his voice just a bit strained. Just enough for Roach to notice. 

“We're fine, nothing that we couldn't handle.” He gave Roach a toothy grin and Roach noted with careful eyes that his lip was split. “Just ran into a bit of trouble, these guys were a bit more wiley than we'd expected.”

“And what exactly happened?” He tilted his head at the two men, allowing his eyes to temporarily move away from Soap and over to Gaz. He gave the man a quick once over as well and was satisfied to see that the man appeared to be in much better shape than Soap. That was good, at least he could be certain Gaz was okay. 

The two men glanced at one another for a moment and that alone was enough to tell Roach that something had gone horribly wrong. Or, at least wrong enough that the two were concerned about it. 

“They knew we were there.”

“What?” 

Roach could see both of them hesitate, it was Gaz who finally spoke up. “We don't know how, all we know is one second we were just watching, the next second our comms were down and we were in a gunfight.” He motioned toward Soap quickly, “We only managed to get comms back because this one literally tripped over the jammers they were using.”

“Jammers,” Roach did his best not to clench his jaw again, “they knew we were coming.” He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to think of how it could be possible the men knew they were coming. The best he could come up with was some sort of security breach.

They’d been making waves in terrorist circles recently. It was one thing when one person turned up dead, it was another thing entirely when several high-up people in those circles turned up dead. He knew they'd been getting some attention, he just hadn't thought anyone would actually be able to find them.

“It's good the two of you got out.” He resisted the urge to run a tired hand over his face, “If you were compromised, it means we need to pull back a bit. We're being too obvious. Our target can wait.”

The two men glanced at each other again and shifted a bit, as though they were nervous. Roach narrowed his eyes at the two and his eyes drifted back to Soap in particular. Did the man look paler than usual?

“About that,” Soap croaked out, “uh, well, Gaz should explain.” His voice sounded weak and Roach noted with concern that he seemed more tired than he had moments ago. He pushed it down for the moment and turned his attention to Gaz with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, uh, we had an opportunity,” he cleared his throat and glanced at Soap again, “when all the chaos was happening, I guess they decided to try and move the target out. Soap and I happened across their path. And…”

Roach waited for him to continue, but Gaz only shifted nervously again. He gave him another moment of silence before pressing, “And? You ignored them, right? Kept going to the transport?” He paused for a moment, observing the two's guilty faces with rising panic, “Tell me the two of you did not try to take on an entire convoy of men by yourselves.”

The resulting wince from Gaz was answer enough. Roach had to fight down the wave of panic at the thought. He'd been here, safe inside while Gaz and Soap were fighting an entire convoy of men by themselves. All it would have taken was one misstep, one misstep and one of them would have been gone. Dead, and this time their blood would have been on his hands. 

He was panicked at the thought and that alone was enough to fill his voice with a shaking rage as he spoke. 

“What in God's name made you think that was a good idea?” He paused for a moment, taking in a slow breath to try and help the shaking of his voice. “Do you understand how fucking stupid that was? How easily one of you could have fucking died?” His voice rose slowly, “And where would that leave us? With your blood splattered in the fucking snow and no information to go off of. A meaningless sacrifice.”

He nearly spit the words between them, his heart pounding in his chest. He was harsher than he meant to be, and he didn't realize until they'd already escaped his mouth that it sounded as though he didn't care for the fate of the two men in front of him. They wouldn't know that he was angry and panicked because of how much he cared for them. 

“We did get something,” Soap protested. Roach looked over to him and took a reactive step forward. Soap looked as though he was going to collapse. “Show him, Gaz.”

Roach's attention was stolen away from Soap for just a moment, just long enough to watch Gaz turn around and make his way to the van the two men had taken on their mission. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as Gaz unlocked the back doors of the van and turned to give him a quick look. He was nervous.

Roach wasn't sure what he was expecting when the man opened the door to the back of the van. He didn't know if he thought perhaps they'd managed to snatch some data or a computer system or something. What he did know, was that he hadn't expected the door to open and reveal the very target the two men had been watching, now bound and gagged in the back of the van. They'd managed to take him. 

It was only with a great deal of self-control that he managed to keep his mouth from gaping open like a fish. This was much better than any computer or intel and, though he was still pissed that the two men had done something so stupid, he couldn't help but be pleased they'd at least gotten something out of it. 

“See,” Soap's voice was smug, even around the clear strain, “it wasn't for nothing.” Roach turned back to him, prepared to say something about how even if they got something it was still too dangerous. Then he saw Soap sway and the blood he wasn't able to hide anymore as it finally soaked through the layers of his jacket and sweater. “It was worth it.”

Soap gave one last sway before his eyes rolled back and his legs gave out underneath him. 

Roach hadn't left Soap's side since he'd been patched up. 

It had been a rush job, quick work between him and Gaz to get the other man inside and onto a bed so they could look over his wound. It was pure luck that the bullet hadn't hit anything important. Any further either way and Roach doubted he would have been able to stop the bleeding and get the wound patched up properly.

He was lucky they were able to close the wound with staples. His hands were shaking far too much for stitches. If Gaz had noticed the way he was shaking as he cleaned blood from Soap's chest, he didn't say anything, a fairly wise choice on his part. 

Roach, for what it was worth, had managed to stay relatively calm while he waited to see if Soap would wake up. Though, he knew that perhaps calm hadn't been the right word. There was no part of him that was calm, but his mind had shut itself down and retreated into a hazy cloud of nothing.

He didn't feel like he was able to think, everything was so foggy and thick around him that he had trouble believing that anything was real. He just felt…wrong. Like he was just going through the motions, not really living, just existing. All while he waited patiently by Soap's bed, checking his vitals and making sure he was getting enough fluids through the IV drip. 

Gaz had offered to take over for him several times. To allow him a break so he could sleep or eat or something. Roach had denied him. He wasn't hungry and he wasn't tired, he just was. He existed only to sit and make sure Soap didn’t die on that bed. That he made it through the night like he was meant to.

There were a few hours, every now and then, when Gaz came and sat with him. He never tried to say anything, he just watched Roach and watched Soap. Roach was sure his own thoughts and worries were weighing on him enough, it was good he didn't try to take on Roach’s as well. 

Soap, luckily, didn't take long to wake up. It was two days before he finally stirred, rising from his forced slumber as Gaz and Roach were sitting at his bedside. He'd come to with a slow groan, mumbles about how hungry he was slipping past his lips before he'd even opened his eyes. 

Roach managed a sigh of relief as Gaz snorted, “Course you'd only be thinking about food after almost dying.” The words were spoken with a bit of laughter and poorly hidden fondness, but after days of nothing they finally broke through Roach's cloudy mind to send a spike of dread down his spine. “Here, I've had some crackers ready for when you'd get up.”

Roach sat quietly, watching to make sure Soap didn't choke on the little bit of food they were going to start him out with. The man practically scarfed the crackers down, making it clear that it had been a good idea to only give him a bit of food at first. It hadn't stopped him from complaining and begging for more. Gaz turned him down without a second thought. 

There was a bit of silence for several long moments, Roach needed to allow Soap to get his bearings before he said or did anything else. So, it wasn't until after he’d watched the other man take several long sips from a glass of water and hold a small conversation with Gaz that he stood. 

The movement caught the attention of both men, their eyes turning to follow him. Roach stood still for a long moment, trying to find the right words. His hands clenched into a fist at his side before relaxing again. He repeated the movement another few times before Soap finally asked, “Roach?”

“What you did was stupid.” There was silence, Soap looked away from him. “Don't do it again. And next time you get shot, tell us instead of waiting until you pass out. You understand?”

Soap gave a slow nod, guilt painting his features. “Understood.”

Another moment passed before Roach turned away from the two men and started toward the door of the little room they were in. He paused in the entryway, his hand gripping the doorframe as though it was a lifeline. He took a moment to breathe before he looked over his shoulder and offered a simple, “I'm glad you're alright.”

He didn't wait any longer before leaving the room and beginning a slow walk toward their little holding cell. He thought now would be the time to try and get some information out of their prisoner. Now that he knew Soap was safe. Now that he knew Soap wasn't going to die. Now that…

The fog that had been lying over him for the past few days seemed to dissipate, rising into his head to gather and gather into a pool of pain and anger and so many emotions he'd refused to acknowledge for the longest time. 

He kept walking forward, pushing his feet to move even as every step felt heavier than the last. He kept moving, it was what he'd been doing for his entire life, there was no reason he couldn't do it now.

His breathing grew labored, his vision seemed to blur. He couldn't understand why. Why couldn't he see properly? He paused then, placing a hand on the wall next to him for support as the gathered fog in his head threatened to expand outward. His chest felt heavy, as though it was going to collapse inward. A part of him felt that his ribs had already given, had already punctured his lungs, and were slowly stealing the air from him, just as the fire and smoke had. 

There was something wet on his face. He brought a hand up slowly, touching his cheek and pulling his hand away slow enough that he could see the tear caught on his finger. Another slipped down his cheek. Then another and another and another and another and-

A sob ripped its way from Roach's throat, so overwhelmingly powerful that he was sent hunching over. His hand found his chest, touching the skin to try and calm his heart. It was going to beat out of his chest, the painful thudding he could feel from his throat to his stomach made him sure of it. He thought for a moment he was going to puke with the pain it brought him.

Air struggled to pull through his throat as he sobbed. A painful cry that would only cease for a split second, long enough for him to take a drag of air that pained his throat with how sharp it was. It was all painful. It was all pain, all of it. 

From his head to his chest to the very tips of his fingers and his toes, he was overwhelmed with the pain. A never-ending thing, worse than anything physical he'd been forced to endure. He'd been burned alive, shot, choked to death on thick smoke and none of it was as strong as this. None of it hurt so much as this pain.

Soap could have died. 

Everything Roach had done, everything he did now, it was all to make a better life. A world away from the danger and the torment they’d all been forced to endure when they'd lived for the first time. And yet, he'd almost lost Soap to it. 

He'd allowed Soap to become a part of his group, a part of his team to stop those fuckers who'd ruined him and everything he loved. In doing so he'd endangered one of the people he cared about most. He'd risked one of the only things he knew that he could gain back from that first life. 

He was disgusted with himself. How could he have allowed that? He had Soap, he only had Soap. He didn't know if Ghost had been born again, if he'd died already, if he was too fucking late to do anything because he was worthless and slow and-

Another breath of air choked his lungs. He reached, with tears blocking his vision and pain in every move he made, not for help, but for a little cord around his neck. For the comfort of three rings he'd designed himself. For the comfort and the reminder of why he did this. Of why he would continue to do what was needed.

There were men out there who wanted to take everything from him. Who wanted to kill and hurt and torture him. To ruin him. And Roach knew, beyond anything, that he wouldn't let that happen. The only answer was to find them first. To burn them before they burned him.

As suddenly as he started, he stopped. 

He stood, his face wiped of all emotion. He didn't bother clearing the tears or their stains from his face. He just started forward again. His footsteps still felt heavy, his chest still hurt, his head was so full he was sure it was going to burst. He kept moving forward. He didn't look back, not in the direction he knew Soap and Gaz were, not to the past, not to anything. He stared forward, his face stoic. 

As he neared the room where their prisoner was, he pulled a knife from his belt. There was no show with it. He didn't twirl it around in his hand or admire the shine. The blade gave him no pleasure. It was a tool, a tool he didn't look twice at. He didn't have time. He kept moving forward, pushing the door open and observing the weakened man in front of him.

He moved forward. There was work to be done. 

[i-write-things]

Hello, hope you're doing well. I read through your Chrollo works and really enjoyed the way you portrait him! I wanted to ask: how do you think Chrollo would react if he was confronted about how his past changed him from the kid he used to be and his lack of understanding himself as well as the lack of a proper identity without the Troupe. Sorry if it's worded wrong or weirdly, English isn't my first language. Thankyou!

(Omg, omg, omg, omg, my first ask! Keep it cool, Pen. Keep it cool...) I'm also not sure if you wanted Yandere Chrollo or regular Chrollo, so I'm gonna start with the more popular Yan!Chrollo, then do regular Chrollo.

(Yan!:) Ok, well, this is a really interesting one! You see, his reaction will depend on how you do this. Are you asking him this angrily as a way to get him upset or at the very least, shut him up and get him to think for a moment? Because if so, he'd definitely think for a moment before replying. But it's not too much, though. Maybe a solid 45 seconds before he responds with him speaking in riddles as he walks off to think some more. He'll be really quite for a while, then when your trying to sleep at night, he'll provide you with a genuine answer. (Yan! Chrollo + Regular Chrollo:) If you're more nice about it, like you're genuinely curious, and you tell him you need to talk seriously and sit him down, he'd react differently. To answer his past changing him, he'd say something along the lines of, "hm...yes. My upbringing certainly did change me, but...who cannot say the same. While I used to be more innocent with a child-like wonder, we all have to mature at some point. So no mater what would have happened, I would have grown up, anyway. Fate has....a rather interesting way of doing things." He'd think a for a little, but not too long. As long as he has fate as part of an answer to a reply, he thinks deeply, but never long. "As for the lack of understanding...well, you're not wrong there. There's just...no other way of putting it, is there? Yes...I'm not sure of who, or even, what I am. The key to understanding myself was...lost many years ago. And yet, I still remember it perfectly to this day...." He stays silent for a moment before responding to the next statement. "And....true. I am nothing without the Spider. I am only the head. And no one can identify only the head of a species as small and powerful as a spider. I put everything into the Troupe. I made many sacrifices. I, perhaps even, put myself so far into the Spider that... even I cannot take some of it back. Including myself..." He speaks in riddles as usual, and doesn't really answer your concerns unless you ask him a specific question such as the why's and the how's and stuff. But later on you understand what the last part meant: He sacrificed so much that he even gave up who he was just so he could create a group whose legacy would live far beyond he would when he meets his inevitable death. Maybe that's why he's not afraid of death? Because he's already all set with the everything he's ever wanted. Or maybe it's a fate thing. Who really knows what's going on in Chrollo's brain?

[quietzap]

https://www.tumblr.com/wh0re-behavi0r/722846786374565888?source=share

Have you seen this clip yet? Any thoughts? I do get tired of people asking about 1D questions in general but it's interesting nonetheless - Joey/wh0re_behavi0r

Hello! I have yes. Yeah most 1D questions are annoying now lol! Well. This is gonna be a little bit long but please read till the end to understand my point of view. Things are still shady to me. I mean first he left to be a normal 22 years old with Perrie (whom he'd been seen cheating on a couple days before and obviously the sun got the exclusive). Then it was bc of anxiety and he needed time to himself. Then it was coz 1D wasn't for him and the music wasn't his thing and he didn't get along anymore with some of the boys. Now, on top of the boys getting sick of each other, it's mainly bc he wanted to be the first to go solo (implying he knew the end of 1D was coming and/or that at least one of the boys was planning to go solo). He said people didn't want to sign a contract but we all knew the boys weren't signing with syco again. Also the narrative was that H asked for a hiatus, everyone (except Zayn apparently) trusted him it'd only be a break but then he signed with the azoffs whom he'd been close to since like 2013. Also idk if you remember but Zayn actually left on March 19th to go back to the UK to rest bc of stress. So then.. if his plan was actually to leave to go solo, why didn't he leave just then and there? Why make it sound like he was coming back after the Manila and Jakarta shows if he knew he was leaving for good? As you can see, there's been several different versions for him leaving over the years.

But anyway there's still many things I don't understand. First, why had the boys already shot promo adverts etc without Zayn around 5/6 months before he left. If Zayn didn't actually leave bc of anxiety (he didn't mention it as a reason on the podcast) but bc he wanted to go solo first, why didn't he stay for the rest of the Asian shows and then wait after the Dubai show to leave? In interviews and on twitter he'd said he was so excited for these shows and that it meant a lot to him to go there and the Muslim fans were so excited to see him. So why couldn't he do these 3 more shows before leaving? Now you might say, maybe he was so sick of everything that he didn't think he could even perform anymore and felt the urge to get out of there? But then... How come Simon Cowell and his label/team, who are known to make their artists perform while sick, while injured and mentally and physically unwell (as seen with 1D, Little Mix, Rebecca Ferguson etc) and known to give their artists meds and all kinds of things to force them to perform, suddenly decided out of the kindness of his heart to let Zayn go in the middle of a tour esp the last tour before the end of the band? Now people could say Cowell let him go and then sabotaged him later on with a smear campaign and blacklisting but you're telling me... Zayn, who was seemingly the only one to notice what H was doing, didn't realise Cowell would stab him in the back? After all these years being treated horribly? Or that he preferred to sacrifice lots of money (breach of contract) and his public image and his music being sabotaged for god knows how long, bc he couldn't wait a few more months? There were only several months left of tour so why not hang on until then? Why did Zayn have to leave to go solo when he could've still released solo music first once 1D ended? And if he could leave so easily then why didn't Harry leave the band to release music? Why didn't they let Liam leave the band or at least rest for a while when he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown? Also why did Pillowtalk come out under Simco, Simon Cowell's company? Why were the 1DHQ reps with Zayn at the Asian Awards? And why did the narrative with the boys change so much with the boys and Zayn saying they still talked and loved each other, then they didn't and phone numbers were changed, then they made up, then they didn't talk anymore etcetc it was inconsistent for ages!

So yeah anyway there are many things I will never understand when it comes to Zayn leaving. And I've seen my fair share of band members leaving various bands/boybands/girlbands and I've never seen so much shadiness lol.

(Tagging you so you get the notif! @wh0re-behavi0r)

[catherine-bisset]

Kissing Booth

ft: @fleetsummers | In which two philosophers discuss the arts. A hug goes wrong.

Cat | She slunk up near the end of the day. Fleet was the only familiar person, and so it was Fleet Cat selected to inquire with. "Is this event commonplace?"

Fleet | "Not at all. The town's been through so much lately, and March is always such a dreary month, we just thought it would be something to lift our spirits, y'know?" Fleet smiled at her, the air of this interaction much different than the pondside one. "Honestly, I think kissing booths fell out of fashion decades ago. But we all know each other here."

Cat | Absorbing the information, she took a hesitant step closer. "Okay."

Fingertips grazed the edges of the little window. "This kindness... the familiarity helps?"

Fleet | "For most people, I think so. I was on a movie once called Sparrow's Flight and there was a kissing booth scene and even though the extras who I kissed were very nice, it still felt pretty weird by the end of a day of shooting." Fleet crinkled his nose at the memory. "So much jaw strain!"

Cat | Idle chatter froze Cat. His familiarity shifted, a younger version superimposed. "You were the love interest." How had she not noticed?

Fleet | The comment, more than the way it was delivered, made Fleet perk up immediately, his vanity stoked: "You know it? You've seen it? I was starting to think my filmography hadn't entered the pop culture vernacular like I thought it had!"

Cat | She nodded, suppressing reaction. It had paid well, that movie. Kept her afloat a good while. It wasn't Fleet's fault society required such sacrifice.

Her hands flexed open and shut against her thighs. "I've seen it. Did you feel it was accurate to the true story?"

Fleet | It was a more serious question than he expected, but Fleet dropped -- immediately, comfortably -- into interview mode, thinking on it. "I don't think any sort of fictionalization can be accurate to that degree," he said. "After all, it's meant to be watchable and to get people's interest. I did make sure to read what I could about the actual story, to try and be respectful and all, but the director wouldn't let us watch interviews and things like that. We had to make our own performances."

Cat | Heat was creeping up Cat's skin. He didn't know. Not his fault. "The real story didn't have a kissing booth," was all she managed, and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her hooded sweatshirt. Safer there.

"I was going to ask for a hug." It was blurted, stilted and without adu. "I thought you might want one, for you."

Fleet | Fleet's forehead creased slightly at that comment, and he sat up straighter. "You're familiar with the Sparrow story?" he asked. "You seem sort of young for it. Although I shouldn't say that, for all I know you're just older and prettier than I am." He was on the verge of a light laugh to accompany the comment, but Cat suggesting a hug knocked it flat. "I would love one," Fleet said instead, and came around to the front, slipping his arms around Cat's waist and leaning the side of his head against hers.

Cat | Compliments on her appearance made Cat's spine itch, so she pretended he simply hadn't spoken them. Instead, she held still until he'd settled himself against her.

Like anyone unfamiliar with casual affection, the effort was awkward. Her arms settled around Fleet's body, careful of his wounds. Butterfly touch. Her voice was low, but never whispered. "You deserved better."

Fleet | Cat's unease in a hug seemed par the course, Fleet had gleaned that much out by the pond, but he startled when she said what she said. Not out of the hug, entirely, but he did go quite still instead of his habitual constant tiny shifts in movement to meld against the other person. "What? Why would you say that? What do you mean?"

Cat | She didn't cling or grasp, entirely used to people pulling away. "Than your father," she explained simply, glancing at his eyes for the first time in minutes. "Than your uncle. Than what happened."

It seemed an obvious thing. Had he forgotten their conversation? Or had Cat stumbled into a social trap she was not aware existed?

Fleet | She had the most extraordinary eyes; dark and searching, but giving away nothing, like staring into the night sky so long it stared back. "I wonder, sometimes," Fleet said. "What exactly I deserved."

Cat | She frowned. "A real chance - the same as every infant." Except Cat, who was the shape her family made her. The great void, wretched and rotten.

Fleet | Fleet wasn't certain he wanted to commit to that, not just yet. He wasn't prone to morbidity, but here was a chance for it, with somebody who seemed so inclined, and so he said, "You don't believe in fate, then? Predestination? That maybe we're -- mostly -- living the lives that we were always meant to have, with just the slightest little bit of chance to customize things?"

Cat | His answer unexpected, Cat had no answer prepared. "Fate implies some greater intelligence, yes? A will powerful enough to shape us all." No, Cat thought. She didn't care for that at all.

"That would mean what we suffer is by design. We struggle in near futility against what cannot be escaped." It choked her, to think that killing one god was not enough.

Fleet | "So the alternative, then." Fleet subsided into glumness. "That everything happens because of free will and people exercising their free will irresponsibly, and cruelly, and without foresight. I don't know if that's much more comforting than being set on a cosmic track of destiny in the design of some higher power."

Cat | "I have met many monsters, Fleet. All were human." Cat was far from the idea comforter, if that was what Fleet sought. "Someone fated to be monstrous is pitiable - Judas never had a chance. But choice? Choice means a chance to change. To grasp your destiny and shape it."

Fleet | "Judas," Fleet repeated. He wouldn't have figured Cat for the religious sort, so that was a new thing to factor in. "He had some killer songs, though." That was a silly thing to say, and Fleet shook his head, saying, "--sorry. I resort to musical theatre references in times of stress. In the end it doesn't matter much, does it? Whether people were fated to hurt you or if they made that choice all on their own."

Cat | "I haven't seen any." The statement was dry, unapologetic in its explanation. "I didn't intend to provoke stress." This, at least, held the scent of regret.

"Wounds hurt no less if inflicted of free will or the blueprint of a greater force. Pity Judas, but it does not negate his betrayal."

Fleet | "Do you like music? If you do, I can introduce you to some. Musicals, I mean." Another reflexive response, offering music when he was trying and failing to figure out something more momentous. But it wasn't such a bad thing, Fleet didn't think, and Cat might end up discovering something she enjoyed. "Cat," he said, "there's no thirty pieces of silver, but. Would you like a kiss?"

Cat | She didn't remember how she felt about music. "Okay," was all she gave Fleet in response to the answer, rather than expose her lack of opinion.

Her eyes widened, and Cat froze again. "I don't do that." This was not Isaac - with his unshakable guarantee of chastity. Fleet contained danger she'd been foolish to forget. "I understand," she whispered, hands mindfully still, "but please don't."

Fleet | "It's fine. You're the visitor, Cat. It's about whatever you'd like." Fleet hugged her, the embrace careful and measured, his hands nowhere that she couldn't move out of easily. "I think you'd like them," he said. "Musicals. Big questions about life but set to music, with dancing, and costumes sometimes."

Cat | Breathe caught in her throat, Cat was a statue for Fleet's safety. She could understand on the surface that he wasn't truly threatening, but everything else was Fight instinct. Control was held one moment at a time, little half-moons in her palm digging deeper. "Okay," she exhaled the word, wishing she could explain to him. Knowing she should.

Instead, Cat took a step back out of his polite and respectful embrace. "Tell me more another day." Her voice was thick, one of the weaknesses she still struggled with. "You did a good job in the movie," the compliment was offered in her stilted way, an attempt to give him something positive to remember.

Fleet | "Thank you," Fleet said with reflexive politeness, though it was still puzzling, the way Cat talked about Sparrow's Flight. "It was such a sad story. Everyone kept saying how brave she was but ... I don't know. Being brave doesn't make anything feel less ruined. At least not in my experience."

Cat | Her laugh barked out, a cracked sound. "They never call the lucky ones brave, do they?"

Another step back and Cat shrugged a narrow shoulder under the sweatshirt. "Free will or destiny, Fleet. Ruined is still ruined."

[tokiro07]

Cipher Academy ch.53 thoughts

[Solve. Die. Repeat.]

(Contents: reminiscing, character analysis - Omomuro and Iroha, thematic analysis - victory, speculation)

Oh man, this might just be my favorite chapter so far, and none of my best girls were even really in it! We love a good bookend in this house

I'm actually pretty miffed that Nisio included a Kogoe Lesson to explain the parallel to the Q5, it doesn't leave me with a lot to talk about. Maybe that's supposed to be insight into Kogoe's character, but it kind of feels like Nisio wasn't confident that people would remember a chapter from literally a year ago

But I do remember that chapter and I remember it very fondly. Q5 was the first puzzle I actually tried to solve in this story, and I got really into it! I got a pencil and paper, I did research, I tackled it from every angle I could trying to understand it. Sure, I ended up being wildly off base for the actual method of solving it, but for a moment, I was just like Iroha. I was just as invested and had just as much fun trying to crack the code by myself, of my own power. If I hadn't gotten hung up on one little inconsistency in my own logic, I might have actually been able to figure it out too! I still wouldn't have been able to figure out what the answer meant since I wouldn't be able to translate it, but it ended up not mattering anyway, the act of solving it was what mattered in this instance

This chapter is my favorite because it's a beautiful little benchmark for how far we've come. Iroha isn't the one struggling to solve the question, he's the one posing it and was able to think of it practically on the fly rather than taking several hours to do so. Maybe only a couple months have passed in story, but Iroha has grown so much in the last year without ever losing what made him who he is: he's confident and clever now in a way he never really was back then, but he's still just as kind and honest

Like Iroha says, it was because of Q5 that he was able to make it this far. With the exception of Q3 (which Iroha didn't solve at all), the first four code were all solved using the Glasses Weapon, which makes sense on the basis that Iroha was only just starting out. Q5, easily the hardest code he'd faced yet, was the first one he had to solve completely on his own, and it showed him both that he was capable of solving codes and that he enjoyed doing so, a crucial part of his success going forward. There were very few codes that he ever used Glasses Weapons to solve after that, the only ones I can immediately recall being the dancer and the maze to decide the brackets for the CLP tournament. Other than that, he's made every effort to solve codes honestly, which allowed him to grow in a way that using a cheat system never would have

It also makes sense that Iroha looks up to Omomuro so much specifically, even ignoring how she inspired him with Q5. They're pretty great foils for each other: Iroha is a feminine man with the drive to be a leader but still often has to rely on his followers, Omomuro is a masculine woman (a lot like Amvicious) who only sees herself as a follower but often insists on acting alone. Even now, Iroha is fighting to make sure everyone makes it out in one piece, while Omomuro is letting herself fall to pieces so that one person, Toshusai, can succeed. Iroha wants no sacrifices if he can help it, but just like Omomuro, he's the type who will throw himself into the line of fire if it means giving someone else the chance to survive. The key difference, though, is that Iroha isn't throwing himself away when he does that, he's just putting himself on the line with the hope and confidence that he can make it to the other side unscathed, while Omomuro isn't concerned with her own wellbeing at all

Finally, the result of this code battle is the diametric opposite of the previous as well: Iroha went over the time limit, but still solved the code, technically making it a draw, while this time, Omomuro solved the code flawlessly but admitted defeat, technically meaning that both sides won. A stalemate on a technicality and a victory through mutual benefit; we may still be in the Friendship arc, but Nisio won't shy away from discussing the theme of Victory

Since this isn't the first time that Iroha has won through the opponent solving his code (ch.13, Iroha tricks Nohime into apologizing to Toshusai), I'm getting the feeling that the Victory arc of this story is going to pull similar tricks along the way. No-win scenarios for Iroha or others, Pyrrhic victories, hidden safety nets; the possibilities are endless, and Nisio is rarely, if ever, going to be straightforward with it, but as he's been saying the entire series, it's only a victory if everyone makes it home alive

I hope everyone loved this chapter as much as I did, and I hope to be able to touch base like this with our cast next year

Until next time

[boundlss]

001. the seaside ,  as the sun is setting . (veltempest)

Vel had gone swimming, and the dried seawater visibly mats the ends of his hair in a way ordinarily displeasing to the eye. He's still breathing a little heavier than usual despite the stretch of time between him leaving the ocean and coming to join Tempest on the damp sand nearby.

He's never asked about it, and Vel has never told him. It wasn't ever something they'd needed to talk about---the way adrenaline wears into an extraordinary fatigue. Tempest had just noticed, and Vel had noticed his notice.

Even so, Vel is beautiful.

This is nowhere close to the first time he's had the thought. The first time he'd met Vel, he'd stumbled over his movements and sent an Eldritch Blast flying in the complete wrong direction, something he'd played off at the time as having been startled by the ambush. But he hadn't been a stranger to ambush. It was Vel that he was a stranger to, rough and poorly put together, and competent and strong. Alive in the midst of battle.

Tempest likes him better like this, of course---without the tiredness, he seems almost serene as he looks towards the water with a fondness Tempest used to. Almost as though he'd stay out there all evening if he could.

It was probably Tempest's fault he'd settled in slightly further up the beach, where the water only occasionally reached to brush against the furthest points of skin. No---it definitely was, because that was where Tempest had planted himself when he himself had gotten tired of swimming.

You can go back out, he doesn't say. He's afraid that if he breaks the silence, Vel will look right through him like he always does and ask something tedious like what's wrong. And he won't know how to tell Vel that everything is wrong---that he'd been so unbelievably happy since the fall of the Death March that he can no longer imagine being able to live when everyone he now knows except for Yanna Lazaros becomes nothing.

( "How do you do it?" he had asked Vesaithe. Both of their eyes were fixed on the same group of people---though he knew Vesaithe's had been flitting between Roy and Sagra in fixed frustration all night and his own were trained on Vel, as always. "Knowing they're all going to..."

Tempest hadn't thought he was owed a secret, though he had already exposed his own to Vesaithe---his identity, their past connection. Something that meant nothing to either of them anymore.

"A meaningless question," Vesaithe had answered. "I already gave 'that' up." )

That conversation floats at the forefront of his mind now. It had ended very quickly after that.

"You know, I've been thinking about the nature of sacrifice." He doesn't have to look at Vel to know what kind of look his friend must be sending him, so he carries on, chuckling. "You're giving me a look, I can tell. You don't need to. I just wanted to ask you something."

He keeps his eyes on the horizon as he speaks. Hanazira beckons from across the water, with its assassins and its beast and its unfinished business. He doubts, between them, that he's the only one with things to resolve there.

"If the one thing you've wanted most was within your reach, but you had to willingly sacrifice everything else you've ever been---not have it taken from you, but give it willingly... Would you do it?"

He allows the question to hang in the air with the soft sound of the tide and the few seabirds who hadn't settled to sleep. There was probably a time where he knew what his own answer would have been, but he wonders if he's the same person who would have answered it.

settings. / accepting.

[alwayschasingrainbows]

What would have happened if

1. Katniss didn't volunteer for Prim, so Prim and Peeta compete in 74th Games.

2. Gale and Katniss compete.

3. Katniss and Peeta's brother compete. Before, he volunteered for Peeta.

The Questions :

A.What strategy would Haymitch made for District 12?

B.What would Katniss do to them? Would she become an ally with those 2 boys?

C.Who would be the winner in the end?

Thank you so much :)

@curiousnonny

Thank you, Nonny!

1.A) What strategy would Haymitch made for District 12 if Prim and Peeta compete in 74th Games?

I know it is going to sound very brutal, but let us be honest... Haymitch had to choose. And, objectively speaking, Prim - small, delicate and very young - didn't have any chances. If Haymitch took his responsibilities seriously (I am not sure if he would have had - I think he would end up drinking too much to numb the pain of losing a child so young and sweet as Prim, unless Peeta forced him to man up as he did in canon), he'd try to keep Peeta alive. But there is also another possibility... Peeta, who loved Katniss (even if she didn't love him in return), would surely try to protect Primrose, even if it meant risking (or sacrificing) his own life. Because Katniss loved Prim more than anything - so Peeta would do anything he could to make sure Prim made it.

Now the brutal part: I think neither of them would have survived.

1.B.) What would Katniss do to them? Would she become an ally with those 2 boys?

Irrelevant here (Katniss doesn't compete;). I think Rue and Prim would be allies. Peeta would have tried to protect Prim, so maybe he'd join the girls as well.

1.C.) Who would be the winner in the end?

I think either Foxface (if it wasn't for the poison berries, she had great chances, being so smart) either Cato.

2.A.) What strategy would Haymitch made for District 12 if Gale and Katniss compete?

Gale had great chances at winning. He was strong, brave, smart, and a great hunter. So was Katniss... But I think Haymitch would think Gale was more likely to win. He was physically stronger than thin and small Katniss. So I guess Haymitch's first choice would be Gale. That being said... here comes the controvercial part. Please, feel free to disagree.

I am sure that Gale would be Katniss's ally. They were great friends, he might have had a crush on her. But... Peeta's story of sacrifice wouldn't repeat itself. I mean, Gale would protect Katniss with all of his strength, but he and Peeta were in different situations. Peeta was the youngest of his siblings, a baker's son. His family would be fine without him - they would lose some of their income Peeta's cakes generated, but they wouldn't starve to death. Gale, on the other hand, was the main breadwinner of the family. He had three little siblings to support. Of course, his mother did absolutely everything she could to provide for the family, but let's be real: they wouldn't have survived if it wasn't for Gale's hunting. So while Peeta had a... freedom to sacrifice himself for Katniss, Gale's situation was more complicated. I think he and Katniss would have made a pact: whoever lives on, helps another one's family. So, as I said, both of them would protect and help one another, but not to such an extent as Peeta (who was 100% willing to sacrifice his life for Katniss, no matter what) did. Not because Gale hadn't loved Katniss - not because he hadn't wanted her to survive - but because he wouldn't have been able to allow himself to give away his life so easily. If he died and Katniss survived, his family would have been taken care of. If Katniss's died and he survived, he'd take care of both of their families. But if he had sacrificed himself for Katniss and she would have died as well - it might have meant that both of their families wouldn't make it. If Katniss had great chances of survival, he would die for her. But if she hadn't... I think he wouldn't risk the two of them dying.

The saddest part is the fact neither Katniss nor Gale would have had a freedom of choosing to die for one another. I think that they would choose to live for one another and to take care of thother one's family.

Now, back to Haymitch.

He'd probably choose Gale, who was a more likely winner. Since Gale and Katniss would have been allies, the eventual gifts from sponsors would be divided evenly between the two of them.

2.B.) What would Katniss do to them? Would she become an ally with those 2 boys?

She'd definitely be an ally with Gale!

2.C.) Who would be the winner in the end?

I think it depends. Gale and Katniss's duo would have protected one another until the very end. I know some people say Gale would have sacrificed himself - and I also think he would have tried to, but only if the final battle was to be held between him and Katniss (if they were the last ones). It is quite possible - together, they were unstoppable! I don't think Katniss's would have allowed him to do so (she'd try to stop him). I think she'd be willing to sacrifice herself, too, if they were the last ones left. Perhaps they would try the poison berries trick - perhaps something else, to try and scare the game makers (there HAD TO be a victor - the games were pointless otherwise).

So it is quite possible that Katniss and Gale would have been victors together.

If not, probably one of them.

3.A) What strategy would Haymitch made for District 12 if Katniss and Peeta's brother compete. Before, he volunteered for Peeta.

Hm, I guess Haymitch would wait a little longer to choose the one who had greater chances of surviving. Peeta's brother was physically stronger, but Katniss had brains and was a great hunter. I think Haymitch would would have chosen to protect Katniss, because she was more similar to himself...

3.B.) What would Katniss do to them? Would she become an ally with those 2 boys?

Not sure if she'd be ally with Peeta's brother. In my opinion, no. They didn't have anything in common. I guess she wouldn't want to kill Peeta's brother herself (because he volunteered for his brother and was from her district), but nothing more than that.

3.C.) Who would be the winner in the end?

Hm... tbh, not sure. Katniss had survived partly because of the "love story" success (she had gotten more gifts from sponsors, because Peeta made her more... likable in their eyes) and because Peeta had protected her. Of course, she had chances of victory herself - she was smart, capable of finding food, water and shelter. But Cato and the rest were after her (since her score was so high!) and she might have not have survived tracker jackers' attack, if Peeta wouldn't have helped her. Katniss herself admitted that Peeta had saved her life then.

Still, I would say that the three most possible victors are: Katniss, Foxface or Cato.

Thanks again, @curiousnonny!

[inun4ki]

fingers run through the other's hair;; so liquid, slipping through the digits, as if it wanted to run away and hide in the farthest corner of the world. shame.... a true shame it was to chase an untamed river. because no matter how many tames were built throughout its journey, it was never enough to stop it from escaping into an ocean. shame.... "I don't want you to think differently of me than the leader. My hands may be treating you with care, but there is nothing behind it. You are just a mere tool and with that, I want to say that you are doing so well at what you are doing for me and my organisation." shame.... "The next step is to infiltrate a place that I used to call home. Are you up for it?"

"I'll think of you as I please - with all due respect, Geto-sama." His unwillingness to limit himself had shown itself in self-determination - freedom from the burden of family in place of dedicating himself to another, perhaps more important cause. He rarely questioned him, despite not fully understanding what truly motivated him, and he was certainly no fool. He knew well the choice he made and the ramifications of it - now, more than ever, he was alone. A sacrifice he made for, in his belief, the betterment of life for sorcerers as a whole. Any affections born of their cooperation were incidental, best ignored, but he hadn't the heart nor the time left to care whether he followed that rule. "And you will accept it for what it is, and let it lie."

He would say no more on the subject, happy to occupy himself with strategizing around what would be a simple infiltration. Kaede was quick and light enough on his feet to accomplish much in very little time - and he was afforded the benefit of his former post, as the higher ups would assume him whittling down their busywork about now. He hadn't outright abandoned his old life, maintaining some level of discretion, secrecy, airs to maintain appearances - the ability to play both sides, however temporary, was more useful than most were willing to accept, and he wouldn't let the opportunity go to waste.

As Geto ran his fingers through the lengths of his hair, he hummed softly, idly flipping a knife end-over-end and twirling it around a finger. His cover would be easy to keep - he had a small handful of reports to turn in to Yaga. If he completed his task fast enough, he could use his time with him as a believable alibi without risking suspicion. Getting around Gojo would be a different matter, however, so his timing had to be absolutely right. There could be no room for error - if he had to wait, then he would. He couldn't afford a direct fight with any of the sorcerers on campus, lest he be found out and summarily hunted down and executed, without accomplishing his goal.

Of course, this is assuming Geto meant Jujutsu High and not his family home. Perhaps he let his mind get away from him - a touch too eager to please, despite the circumstances. It didn't matter, he accepted that.

"Home can mean anything, anywhere, anyone. You'll have to give me more than just a cryptic handwave toward the concept of home," he said plainly, glancing along the edge of his knife. There were a few nicks here and there he'd have to grind away once all was said and done. He tilted his head backward, cornflower gaze meeting violet in a manner he could only describe as...tense. Still, he reached up, gently drawing his fingers through a few strands of Geto's hair - what he could reach anyway.

One day, he knew he would come to regret his time with him. Something awful and painful would most certainly take root, flights of fancy and vain interest satisfied yet never quite being enough - never being honest or real. Ah, so it was to be. A fool he was, indeed, chasing an idea he'd always been viciously deprived of, what he'd always wanted but could never have. Allowing himself to be used as a tool in exchange for a transparently meaningless sort of companionship.

But he was only human, and he was perhaps weaker than he'd let on.

"Tell me what you want, and I will see it done."

[spotofimagines]

Car Sick P1 ~ Dominic Calvert-Lewin

A/N: This is sort of carried on from this blurb I wrote a while ago, bc I loved the idea and wanted to write more for it, you should probs read that first to catch the vibes. This is for @footballffbarbiex writing challenge based on tv and film. I used this storyline from Modern Family with Gloria and Jay. Once again, no real timeline with this, just made up scenarios. I struggled with the next bit of this so I asked you how you wanted it and you chose 2 parts, here's the 1st. Enjoy :)

Warnings: pregnancy, kids, step parents, injury mention - reader is female

Summary: You thought you were just feeling car sick, turns out it's something else...

gif by @hishairmyweakness - gif by @delstroyer

You were dropping your daughter off at Dele's for a long weekend since he didn't have a match or training to attend. After she had squeezed the biggest hug out of her dad and trudged dirt in his hallway, she perched on the sofa with her ipad and juicebox, leaving you and Dele to catch up.

Dele had been showing you how he redecorated his kitchen so you accepted a drink and decided to stay a little while. Plus you figured the news you had for him should rather be said in person than over the phone.

"Hey, Del, I have something to tell you." You said nervously, leaning your hands on the kitchen island. He turned around and took a sip of the drink he just poured as he walked closer to the other side of the island opposite you. "Go ahead." He replied, his eyebrows knitted in concern at your worried tone. 

"Well, remember when we stopped by last Friday since you were playing on her birthday?" you recollected and he nodded along. "And I had one of those herbal teas and a tablet because I was feeling car sick?" "Yeah..." he trailed off quietly, putting his drink on the counter between you. "Turns out I wasn't car sick," he frowned in confusion and looked even more lost than he did a moment ago. 

You fiddled your fingers together and took a deep breath, steadying yourself. You knew you could trust Dele with absolutely anything. You'd been close since you were teenagers, grew closer when you started dating and left nothing in the way when you had a baby. Being so young when it happened meant a lot of things turned against you, a lot of people with a lot of opinions trying to dictate your lives and yet you stuck it through. You haven't been together romantically for a while, however your relationship with him never faultered, your connection of trust staying strong.

But it didn't make this any easier to say. It wasn't hard to see when Dele got hit by moments of gloom at the sight of the mini family you were creating with Dominic. While your split years ago was amicable, and neither of you would rekindle that flame again, more than happy with your close friendship, Dele couldn't stop that jealous bubble rising in him when he saw your daughter enjoy spending time with Dom as much as she does with him. Blame his stubbornness but facing change wasn't his strongest suit. This news was going to be a big step away from that picturesque life you both once envisioned together and you desperately didn't want it to drive a wedge between you nor push Dele away. You had settled into a good rhythmic system with him that suited your daughter and your schedules, you'd hate to tarnish that in any way.

So, yes, you hesitated to tell him.

You sighed and picked at your nails, needing to just get it out before it drove you crazy.

"I'm pregnant." 

Dele's eyes went wide and his mouth opened a little from shock, the frown lines that creased his forehead disappearing. His breath was taken away. Nothing prepared him to hear those words come from your mouth and know that he wasn't involved. It was bound to happen but it still took him by surprise.

He tilted his head as he looked at you, nervously twiddling your thumbs like you always did, and it only took a few seconds for a smile to slowly grow on his face. "That," he cleared his throat and met your eyes with sincerity, "that's great. Congratulations." 

He scuffed his socked feet along the floor as he walked round the counter to wrap you in a warm hug. He squeezed your shoulder and gave your cheek a quick kiss when he pulled away, a genuine smile on his face. No, he wasn't involved this time, but he knew how amazing it was to experience pregnancy and he was certain Dominic would take to it greatly.

"What did Dom say?" He asked, leaning over to grab his glass and take another drink. Your breath caught in your throat and that made Dele side-eye you mid sip. "You haven't told him, have you?" He questioned gently, and you shook your head.

Now it was his turn to sigh. 

The glass clinked loudly in the quiet room when he put it back down, and he had a ton of questions he could have asked you and a ton of things he could have told you to do that he thought was right, but it wasn't his place. Not anymore. So he took a moment to think whilst you rubbed your hands down your front to straighten out your t-shirt again. 

"Are you going to?" You tutted and looked back up at him incredulously. "Of course I am Del, think it'll be pretty hard to miss when I'll be bursting through my clothes!" You joked and he held his hands up in defence as he chuckled, realising it was a stupid question.

"Are you nervous, then?" He tried again, this time opting for something more reasonable. "More nervous than when I told you for the first time." You admitted. Dele whistled lowly and shook his head with a laugh. 

The state you were in a bit under 7 years ago now when you told him you were going to have his child, it was something else. He still insists he hasn't seen someone so frantic, before or since. He could only imagine what was coming Dominic's way.

---

There were plenty of reasons for you to believe Dom would be happy to be a dad. He adored his young brother and truly enjoyed spending time with him when he was back home. He was thoughtful and attentive with all the people he knew so you know he'd be the same, multiplied by a million, when it came to a child that depended on him.

But the way he cared for your daughter above anyone else proved to you, without a doubt, how good he would be. Dom wasn't her biological father, but that never once stopped him loving her the way she deserved. Dom made sacrifices when he needed to and even when he didn't. He'd stay awake if she couldn't sleep, he'd ask to see her on facetime when he was travelling and he always asked her about school, he even did the afternoon pick up with you when he got the chance. If Dom would be such an amazing figure in the life of a little girl he had no obligation to be a part of, just imagine what he'd be like with his own child.

You wouldn't question his want or excitement to have kids with you at any time, having spoken about it before. 

Any time except now.

Dom hadn't been himself the last week, and justifiably so. He picked up a knee injury in the Merseyside derby last Saturday that resulted in him hopelessly limping off the pitch with the physio under his arm to hold him up. A torn ACL was the conclusion after a couple hours in the hospital. While an injury was never welcome, a minimum six months out was tough to take. But with the upcoming England tournament he'd been called up for that he will now have to miss, alongside the rest of the Premier League season, it shattered him. His club and his country had important matches this year and it killed him to not be able to help secure some much needed wins for them.

Most of Sunday was spent doting on him, helping him relax and alleviating both his physical and mental pain, offering comfort through his favourite meals and hours of cuddles, something your daughter happily assisted with. 

However, by the time Monday rolled around, his rest was stifled by your daughter's birthday party.

Despite how often you'd sat him back down, Dom wasn't used to sitting all day and had helped you decorate the house whilst your girl was at school. The balloons were littered in the front room, the buffet snacks laid out on the dining table, and the banners Dom had pinned on the ceiling blew from the gentle breeze coming in through the back door. 

So by the time you pulled into the drive with a car full of young girls eager for sugar, Dom was working on half a bar of energy already. Yet he played along with the party activities and managed to dance, or more shuffle, to some Disney songs on his crutches inbetween sneaking mini sausage rolls and chocolate biscuits. 

You could see him getting more tired as each kid left, but "she only turns 6 once, right?", so he persisted on keeping the party lively until your daughter was knocked out in bed, out of her party dress but still wearing the new bracelet she got from Grandma. 

You trailed behind Dom with two cups of tea as he hobbled toward the sofa, barely managing to keep himself up despite it only being 9pm. He dropped heavily on the cushions in the corner and let his crutches fall on the carpet, not caring where they landed as long as they stayed within reach. The sigh that left him could have knocked down a tree. 

Before you got comfortable, you put his mug on the table and put a random sitcom on the TV. Dom's eyes were closed and his legs were stretched out as best as they could be, his injured knee up on the couch in front of him with a cushion underneath and an ice pack held on top.

"I'm telling you, I feel way too old for this." He muttered just loud enough to hear. "You're only 24." You chuckled a little into your tea at his complaint.

"Yeah," he rolled his head your way, hair falling on his face, "but running after her makes me feel 70, she knocks me out," he spoke quietly but with the last tints of energy in his tone, "and with this peg leg too you gotta change that to 80."

You smiled at him sympathetically and loosely linked your fingers with his, rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand as let his eyes close again.

He was joking, it was obvious. But a niggling part of your brain told you that he wasn't just being dramatic. 

Admittedly it was a tiring evening with your daughter's friends running around, but with the lack of energy left in Dom, how could a baby be added to that scenario and it not be an issue? Maybe it was the wrong time. Maybe, no definitely, getting pregnant when Dom wasn't shrouded by an injury, when he didn't have frustration on top of frustration on his shoulders, when there wasn't a hyperactive 6 year old that needed attention too - that would definitely be a better time to have a baby. But that wasn't what life had handed you. Life was a little more complicated in its ways than to give you an easy run, you knew that well enough by now. 

What concerned you most was how Dom would handle it. Whilst he had picked up parenting duties well over the past couple years, he hadn't been there when your daughter was a baby, nor had he seen how tough it was on you at the time. The thought of raising another was scaring you, so it would surely terrify Dom, doing it for the first time. 

Even before the time came to hold them in your arms, being pregnant was no easy deal. So how could he possibly handle the stress of an upcoming baby, the stress of having to look after 2 kids in the future, the stress of a cranky pregnant girlfriend, the stress of prepping the house and himself, all whilst he's hobbling on crutches and having to watch his teammates from the sidelines too? 

You sipped your tea and let the TV fill the room as your brain ran overdrive with questioning thoughts, sitting silent next to your boyfriend who's head seemed full of only the sleep he was dreaming of, oblivious to the changes that were coming his way.

[class1akids]

I honestly don't think Gran Torino was wrong to treat Shigaraki strictly as a villain. At the point they found out(Kamino), Shigaraki was already too dangerous to "reach out" without acknowledging the villain he'd become. I'm actually glad GT put his foot down there and forbade All Might from pursuing Shiggy. All Might, a physically frail retired hero with a crushing guilt about Shigaraki's circumstances, pursuing the villain with known hate boner for All Might... could only have ended badly.

One thing we know for sure is that not reaching out DID end up pretty badly:

Since Kamino, Shigaraki had a quirk-awakening that made his original power even more devastating and large-scale, got himself a huge army with powerful allies, got nomufied and was given AFO with a menu of quirks handpicked to make him deadly and invincible. He was turned into the Symbol of Fear, a near invincible God of Destruction. And his awakening claimed now many lives. Honestly, how much worse can it get?

And you may say, it’s not poor weak All Might’s problem, he’s done enough, he shouldn’t sacrifice himself for a villain when it is not at all sure it would make a difference. 

Which normally would be true. Except Shigaraki’s hate-boner for All Might as you elegantly put it, is very much like Touya’s hate-boner for Endeavor. Born out of love, admiration and then rejection, disappointment and abandonment.

Because what was All Might’s social contract? 

He said: “you keep my peace and I will protect you. Because “I am here”. 

All Might’s Symbol of Peace was a personal promise. He didn’t talk about all heroes as a team, he didn’t even talk about society as a whole. He took one of the greatest powers known on Earth and said “I, All Might, will win and save with a smile”. 

Except, All Might knew he couldn’t save the people he couldn’t reach and he admitted as much. 

Even if he projected the image of a god, he was only human. And he hoped that his smile would take care of the rest...

Except when you are a fucked-up kid, alone on the street, after experiencing your quirk come in in the most awful way possible, and nobody gives a shit, because well - “somebody will...?” “There is always All Might, right?” He can do anything, he can save everyone.  then it may feel that smile is mocking you personally. That this hero will save everyone, but not you. Because you don’t matter to him. Because nobody cares. 

And the social contract is broken - he didn’t save you, so why should you care about his peace?

And you may say that well, All Might’s promise was to help the good people, against the villains. 

Which is why we have in the story Eri. The girl who is Shigaraki’s direct parallel down to the white hair, the devastating quirk, killing her own family, being raised in isolation by a villain. Yet hero society comes together to save this girl and no sacrifice is too big to get her out. 

The Eri / Shigaraki parallel is there to make us question the innocent victim / irredeemable villain dichotomy. It’s more of a scale.  Eri was clearly someone who could be saved. So at what point did Tomura become clearly irredeemable? And was the cost of giving up on him higher than trying to save him?

I think a part of Shigaraki is still the kid who thinks (some) heroes are really cool. He admires Eraserhead (rightly so, because he’s fucking cool), and it feels genuine. But he also concluded that heroes save other people, not him. He’s looking in on as an outsider.

And he says “NOW I’m ready to reject it.” Which means there was a time when he wasn’t ready, when the right intervention maybe could have swayed him. And since All Might and Gran Torino were the only ones who knew exactly who he was, how and why he was chosen and groomed, I’d say they were the best placed to intervene. 

But they said - you know what? He’s too far gone. And they didn’t even have any idea just how much farther gone he’s going to be. 

I’m not saying that All Might would have survived that encounter with Shigaraki. He may have died the gruesome death foretold by Sir. But it still could have made the difference in swaying Shigaraki, make him doubt if heroes really don’t care. ACTIONS speak loud, and people can change their views. 

All Might’s non-action played right into Shigaraki’s impression of hero society that sweeps its problems under the rug. 

And it also shows that All Might himself holds the belief that you can’t be a hero or do anything unless you have a mighty quirk. And this attitude is something he inadvertently perpetuated, since his power was so overwhelming, that in comparison, everyone else felt insignificant and powerless (including the no. 2).  It cultivated the kind of apathy and inertia in society that allowed little Tenko fall through every safety net. 

This is not to say that All Might is the villain in Tomura’s story. Clearly not - AFO is the bad guy.  But if I were All Might - which I am not - and I was watching on TV helplessly this destruction, watching (I know he technically can’t see the battle, but he’ll know soon enough) the kid(s) I care about shoulder and get hurt by a powerful enemy that in some way was created from my greatest ambition gone wrong (there, another parallel with Dabi), I would ask myself the question if it was the right decision to give up on Shigaraki at the time (the way Gran Torino asked himself if it was the right decision to give up Kotaro).

Now this is not to say Shigaraki has no personal responsibility - he does and I want to see him held accountable for it. But society (which for the All Might era meant ultimately the top hero) ignoring its little Tenkos and teenaged Tomuras and man-child Shigarakis is not only about doing personally right by them, but also about not letting the problems fester to the point that they erupt in the large-scale destruction happening right now, hurting many innocents in the process, creating new potential children who will grow up to be villains. 

It’s about stopping the cycle. And stopping the cycle of violence almost always involves someone taking a step they don’t strictly speaking owe or need to. It’s kind of the idea of plus ultra. 

[gltwrites]

the day isym said: i'm gonna fuck shit y'all up

So this is how it ends. I guess I won't be able to let this go sooner, or not ever.

Following the lives of these incredible characters since 2014 had been an astonishing journey for me. And now, we reached the end of one of the most-loved mangas, Attack on Titan/Shingeki No Kyojin—probably the only masterpiece that will touch my heart like this in this lifetime.

What an awful timing it was that chapter 139 arrived at the time I was supposed to be celebrating with my mutuals on exoltwt lol. While, overall, I rate AoT as 11 out of 10, I can't eschew that the culmination has left me qualms and questions unresolved.

Let's start with Armin thanking Eren for his sacrifices for Paradis—which equates to thanking him for committing a global genocide (bro, wtf???). This did not sit right with me, but I'm taking into account that Armin could see there was no easy way out, and that he believes achieving peace requires sacrifices, notwithstanding his altruistic nature and efforts to not completely throw away his humanity.

And I'm also considering the fact that, with the reality Paradis had, bringing off peace without lives being taken was a wishful thinking.

His idealistic worldview clashed with Eren's, and he wasn't able to present a solid resolution 'til the windup. And yet, Armin was still willing to talk things out with his best friend so they could come up with a better plan, without further casualties.

Up until the very end, he wanted PEACE.

I think, this is what makes Armin admirable, contrary to what other readers paint him out to be—weak and useless. He's one of the strongest and skilled characters in AoT imo. He didn't need to be a Titan or an Ackerman. He's innately whip-smart and a natural tactician, making himself a consequential character despite his lacking combat skills.

Weighing up Armin's burdens and the mental load he carries, it hurts to be in his shoes, especially since he's the commander. He's torn between his friend's life and the rest of the world. He took the responsibility of the Rumbling aftermath to shoulder Mikasa's burden and let her live in peace.

And in the end, conflict dragged on, and he ended up with a large obligation to the people.

There were little appearances of Historia, which I initially found a bit absurd since she's among the important characters in the whole series. She didn't say anything, and her pregnancy was for what again? I was disappointed. Her bearing a child held no importance and was a random subplot.

Conversely, amid a slew of readers demanding her clarification on knowing Eren's plans from the get-go, her explanation on the matter would be unnecessary. It seemed to me she has done her part on how the story would play out. And if there was an epilogue or a succeeding set of panels, Historia might've made her comeback since her role as the queen is expected to hugely partake in peace propositions.

And over and above these, the final chapter seemed...rushed? I feel like some panels need to be fleshed out more, such as the whole of Founder Ymir's feelings towards that bitchass abuser Karl Fritz. I was appalled that the root of the sufferings that prolonged for two millennia was because of her martyrdom and servitude to the king and the royal family, which she described as love.

But in reality, without having to chew this over, Ymir didn't really know what true love is. She was a slave since birth, her family was massacred by Karl Fritz, and was impregnated thrice by this murderer who never gave a shit about her. She lived a wretched life, manipulated and abused, and died after jumping in front of the spear to protect the king.

Brought by fear of losing the power of the titan, he made her daughters eat Ymir's flesh and told then to bear many children. Sick fuck.

Then Ymir discovered Mikasa, who she deemed a mirror of her own. The difference, however, is that Mikasa's love for Eren isn't one-sided. And so her greatest desire to be freed from an abusive relationship was accomplished after discovering what real love is through EreMika.

Speaking of Eren, I can understand why plenty of readers condemned him. The guy, who masked himself as a peak tsundere, cold, temperamental bastard, exterminated almost the entire global population, and when asked by Armin his reason, he said he didn't know why, so from here we can assume he neither had a goal behind that warped undertaking nor did it for the greater good.

But Armin is smart, and Eren's silence was a tacit answer. The predicament seemed unsolvable, and wiping 80% of humanity is his last resort to hold off the rest of the world from attacking Paradis.

Taking also into account that he didn't mean to have his mother killed by Dina after rerouting her from Bertholdt. If he didn't, Bertholdt wouldn't end up as the Colossal Titan and Armin wouldn't have eaten him and died along the way.

Bear in mind that Eren believed Armin would save the world, but if he kicked the bucket—and had Eren, who was obviously enslaved by his destiny, altered anything in his memories—would unravel another reality unknown to Eren that could pose a bigger risk.

And the fact that he let the familiar fate dictate him meant opening a door to another door of possibilities of achieving world peace, with Armin taking the lead.

By making himself the bad guy in his story to make his friends be the heroes, the ending suggests that harmony would work out in the end.

In 139, Armin, Reiner, Pieck, Annie, Jean, and Connie were planning to make peace negotiations. And through this, there's a light at the end of the tunnel.

Levi finally bidding farewell to his comrades bawled my eyes out—this is probably the saddest shit ever AoT has ever done to me, next to Erwin's death. Levi is the last one existing among his original comrades, and it sent a pang to my heart when he did his final salute, wearing a faint smile while wrapped in bandages.

It was not indicated what he'd been doing post-Rumbling. The end of Titans' curse also put an end to the Ackerman bloodline's "awakened power" and above-average human strength, so he's probably a military consultant or mentor, given his amazing contribution as humanity's strongest warrior.

It was also shown he remained in the capital and is with now-grown Falco and Gabi, who both have shown their potential for a military career.

Meanwhile, unlike Levi, Mikasa chose to retire and live in her hometown. While others remark her ending as tragic (I'm guilty of this tbh), her former comrades were on their way to see her and visit Eren's grave next to the tree from their childhood, making her not entirely lonely. I wished she and Armin were in the same multiple frames of the latter panels of the final chapter as they both grieve losing Eren. But given Armin's new and bigger responsibilities for humanity, it's impossible.

EreMika may not be endgame, and I may be bound to perpetual frustration of them never getting the chance to wear their hearts on their sleeves, I am satisfied with the ending—imperfect but fitting. It's actually funny that my feelings got the best of me upon reading the last chapter, and cursed at the story for not ending in absolute peace and bliss, forgetting that AoT had always been a poignant, anxiety-induced, existentialist story, and hinted at a bittersweet finale from the start.

[bruhstories]

Bloodlust

Summary: You were a rookie Jashinist with a dark secret, he was a demented shinobi with a desire to slaughter anything and everything for his god. Pairing: Hidan x Fem!Reader (canon verse) Warnings & Content: dark content - minors dni, language, blood kink, kidnapping, murder, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, knives, human sacrifice, cult-like behaviour, religious fanatism, Reader and Hidan are... insane, slight gore. Word Count: 2.8 k

A/N: Read those tags carefully. Hidan's not exactly a warm and fuzzy character.

"Please, let me go... I won't tell anyone." You peeled your lips open, dry from all the crying and lack of hydration, hairs stuck to your sweaty forehead.

"Let you go? But... you came here willingly." He sneered, flashing you his teeth.

He was right. You joined the Jashinists thinking they were a liberal religion, preaching freedom and anarchy, but you did not expect sadism and human sacrifices. And you didn't expect to fall in love with Hidan — the most vile man you've ever encountered. Not that he knew that, anyway. He couldn't possibly fathom the idea that a sweet thing like you could love a man like him. But you weren't a saint.

"T-then why are you doing this to m-me?" You breathed, the ropes around your wrists cutting the blood circulation in your hands.

Hidan clicked his tongue and placed his scythe on the floor. "Because I can." He picked up a knife — no, a kunai. "And because you wanted to run away."

Ah, there it was. You decided to leave this cult when Hidan prompted you to kill some poor ninja he'd kidnapped a few days ago. You refused, expecting to be left alone, and now you were the sacrifice.

"I t-told you, I- I only kill those who deserve it."

"Everyone deserves it, Y/N. Especially traitors." Hidan traced the blade over your exposed abdomen, goosebumps dotting your skin and you were ashamed to admit that it made you feel... something.

"So, you're just g-going to kill m-me?"

"Don't be sad. You'll make a fine fucking sacrifice for Jashin."

"Please, Hidan, give m-me another c-chance." Tears pooled at your eyes. Death was not on your list, not now, and especially not at his hands.

"You know we don't give second chances." The blade was now between your tits, the tip slowly poking into your skin. Crimson droplets seeped from the fresh wound. It stung like a bitch, and it made you whimper, but the heat in your cunt signalled your arousal.

"You d-don't, but Jashin does." You whispered, and Hidan was completely taken aback.

"Excuse you?"

"Every t-time you failed to kill someone, hengave you another c-chance." You spat at him. "What m-makes you think he won't g-give me one?"

Confused wouldn't even begin to describe what he felt. Hidan blinked slowly, trying to comprehend the question before he dropped the kunai and left without a word.

You didn't know exactly how much time passed since he left. By this point you couldn't feel your fingers and the room began to spin, head dizzy from exhaustion. The door swung open and you shot your head up, startled by the sudden intrusion. Hidan walked in with a terrifying look on his face and bent down to grab the blade. He slashed the first rope and your hand fell limp by your hip.

"You're lucky he's a benevolent god." He slashed the second rope and your knees hit the cold, hard floor. Fear, happiness and anxiety coiled in your stomach, surprised that you have, indeed, been given a second chance.

"You talked to him?" You shook your wrists to get the blood flowing, eyes finding his.

"Yes, and surprisingly he likes you. Says you have potential." His voice went up an octave when uttering the last word in what seemed to be sarcasm.

Still on the floor, you arched a brow. "Do you doubt his judgement?" You suspected it was a mistake to ask that question, because in a split second Hidan yanked your hair and pulled your head back to look at him upside-down.

"I'll die before I doubt the good lord. Who I doubt is you." He pierced your soul with his sangria eyes, chills running down your spine, stopping in-between your thighs. You hated the effect he had over you, you hated that he was so oblivious to your hints, only focused on Jashin. Always Jashin.

Granted, Jashin did offer Hidan immortality, which was something you could only dream of. You were a pathetic civilian with a knack for medical jutsu, but never properly trained. He was a full-fledged shinobi who could snap your neck like a twig if he wanted to. And he wanted to.

But, the word of Jashin was law for Hidan. As much as he wanted to sacrifice you to his beloved god, he had to refrain himself, fearing punishment for his sins. And as much as he hated to admit it, you shared and valued the same goals of Jashinism — to a certain extent. You were down to slaughter people, but only those who deserved it, and apparently to Jashin that was enough. But not to Hidan. Never to Hidan.

"Jashin says I have potential, it's not up to you to talk back." You mustered up some courage after your wounds healed. That medical jutsu thing you practised for self-healing really came in handy when Hidan had violent outbursts and Kakuzu wasn't there to put him in his place. Shame you didn't know how to use it to heal others.

"Listen here, you little bitch, just because you've been pardoned now doesn't mean I'll hesitate to stab your tits when you disobey the lord." He let go of your hair and you leaned forward, palms on the floor to stop you from falling. "Besides, you're gonna have to prove yourself. Again."

You knew exactly what he meant. You had to kill. And Hidan wasn't one to let you off the hook — you'd have to kill someone innocent, and the idea of performing such a sacrifice made your stomach churn, it made you want to throw up, because you knew you'd enjoy it. Murdering someone deserving felt like a chore, like something natural. But the thought of killing someone undeserving made your heart flutter, your cunt burn and your head hazy with a high so addictive, no drug in the world could compare to it.

"Don't make me kill someone, please."

"Oh, spare me of your holier-than-thou bullshit. You either kill or be killed, Y/N. Now let's get to fucking work." Hidan bruised your arm in the process of 'helping' you up, unaware of the pleasant surprise that lurked within you. Because if he knew the real you, he'd probably question his own sanity — and that's something he'd never done. The real you was obscene, twisted and demented, long before you discovered Jashinism, but you tried to bury that part of you deep down. You seemingly succeeded, focusing your bloodlust on anarchy and overthrowing the Tsuchikage with a group of punk teenagers from your village, Iwagakure.

Until you met Hidan.

"I really don't want to do this." You pleaded with the silver-haired man, hands trembling and eyes watery.

"Kill him, Y/N." Hidan rolled his eyes, the blades of his scythe pressing into your back as you pressed your kunai into the victim's neck. "Kill him or I kill you."

"Alright, alright, I'll do it. But give me some space."

"Tch, pretentious bitch." He stepped aside, watching you carefully.

"More space." You demanded and he took another step back with an impatient look on his face.

"There's only one exit to this cave. If you think, for a fucking second, that you walk out of here alive you're wrong. Unless you kill him." Hidan licked his lips. "Jashin demands a sacrifice. Now."

You looked down at the symbol drawn with the victim's blood, then back at the man in front of you. His eyes were wide open and filled with tears, arms chained to then wall of the cave. He frantically shook his head, saliva dripping from his gag as he prayed for salvation.

"I'm so sorry." You spoke — not sorry for the victim, but for yourself and what you'd become after this day. Slender fingers lifted his chin upwards and with one swift movement, you slit open the skin, blood gushing out, spraying your face, neck and cleavage. "Fuck..." You moaned, the hot crimson liquid dripping down your chin.

"See, it wasn't so bad." Hidan elbowed you but you didn't move, instead, you gripped the blade handle tightly and drove it into the victim's abdomen, more blood spluttering on you when you removed it. "Oh, you want more?" The rogue shinobi quirked a brow, content with your choice. Adrenaline and arousal rushed through your veins and you dropped the kunai, the clanging echoing in the cave.

"Hidan..." You trailed off, tentatively unzipping your black cloak. "I want you to fuck me."

The silver-haired man watched you smear the blood over your exposed tits, his cock twitching in his pants. Finally, he realised just how beautiful you truly were, the pure ecstasy on your face igniting a flame in his core.

"Here?" He asked, somewhat surprised by your request.

"Yes, please." You turned around to face him, and the look on his face told you just how impressed he was.

"Now aren't you just so full of surprises? And here I thought you were just some goodie two-shoes who refused to harm people." Hidan removed his Akatsuki cloak, letting it fall to the ground, allowing you to see just how hard he was. You bit on your lower lip, the metallic taste was pure bliss in your mouth. "You filthy, disgusting whore." He sneered, his lips crushing yours in a shameful, euphoric kiss. The moment his tongue touched the blood in your mouth, his skin began to darken, his body linking with the victim's, meaning he hasn't died yet.

"Isn't he going to feel everything?" You pulled back from the kiss, but your voice wasn't in any way concerned about the man chained to the wall.

"Oh, he's going to feel it, alright." Hidan laughed, his hand pushing your head as you lowered yourself down your knees. Fingers tugged at the waistband of his pants and you pulled down both of the layers, his cock slapping your face. "Suck."

You obediently parted your lips, taking the velvety tip into your mouth, tongue swirling around it before you moved to his shaft. Hidan threw his head back, his fingers tangling in your hair as you bobbed your head back and forth, your moans music to his ears. The gurgling sounds coming from the victim told you that he, indeed, felt everything Hidan felt and your twisted mind enjoyed it so fucking much. You picked up the pace, earning grunts and growls from the rogue shinobi before he held your head in place, stuffing your mouth and throat with his thick cock until you dug your fingers in his thigh, desperately trying to breathe.

"Jashin was right to give you a second chance." Hidan released you and you gasped for air. "You're his gift for me."

The blood on your body dried out, but you were just as beautiful. You leaned on your back, spreading your legs for him. It was a smart decision not to wear anything underneath your cloak. The silver-haired man kneeled between your thighs, his hands bruising your skin with rough touches before he found your dripping cunt.

"Shit, Y/N, you're soaking wet." He shoved two fingers between your folds, curling them upwards. You squirmed and moaned, desperate for something bigger.

"S-skip the foreplay and fuck m-me!" You begged but Hidan wasn't one to listen. He thrusted his fingers in and out of you, enjoying the way you thrashed and moaned his name, enjoying the way you arched your back with every movement.

"You're so beautiful." He confessed and you were caught off guard. It was the first time he ever said something nice to you, let alone compliment you. "You really are a sight for sore fucking eyes." Hidan removed his fingers but before you could say anything, he shoved them in your mouth. "Don't you taste like a needy slut?"

You nodded with lidded eyes, cheeks hollowed as you sucked the slick off of fingers. Hidan hovered over you, his cock grazing over your slit and aching clit, then kissed you with so much force and passion you almost couldn't breathe.

"Fuck, you taste good." He grabbed his shaft and pushed the tip painstakingly slowly between your folds. Oh, he was so much bigger than you expected, but you quickly got accustomed to his girth, mouth agape and eyes rolled back in pleasure.

"Shit- Hidan!" You bucked your hips, legs wrapping around his waist as he wrapped his calloused fingertips around your neck.

"Jashin damn it, you are so tight. You're not a fucking virgin, are you?"

You shook your head, fingernails digging into his back and the victim gurgled again. Hidan released the grip from your neck, instead holding you by the hips and frenziedly pulling you onto his cock. It was sinful, degrading and demented, and his brutal, animalistic thrusts only turned you on more. The sound of skin against skin, growls and moans echoed in the cave, and soon enough Hidan's bone-like markings faded. You didn't care, he was still buried into your cunt, but the thrill of having your pussy obliterated next to a dying man dissipated, replaced by the pure lust Hidan radiated.

"Fuck, I'm-"

"No, you're not. Not until I fucking allow it." The silver-haired man pulled out and you cried, literal tears pooling at your eyes as you were on the brink of an orgasm. "You've been a bad, bad, girl, denying Jashin, denying slaughter, denying me." He gave your cunt a firm slap which vibrated through your entire body, ending with a whimper.

"Y-you have n-no idea how m-much I want you, Hidan." You squeezed your thighs together for a crumb or friction, but he forcefully pushed your knees to the sides.

"Then you should listen. See what a good job you've done today?" He tilted his head to the chained corpse.

"You d-don't understand... I've g-got an insatiable bloodlust." You admitted, but you knew he'd only be more intrigued.

"That's exactly why you've been drawn to Jashinism." Hidan flipped you over, and you were down on all fours. He pushed his cock back in you with one deep thrust, earning another moan out of you. "Embrace it, Y/N. You and I can do great things together, for him."

"But it's wrong." You whispered and you could feel his arm slithering around your neck, pulling you closer to him.

"And who told you that? Society? Your parents? Nah, I'll be your daddy from now on." His fat cock brushed against your cervix, your silken walls clenching around it as he fucked you harder. "You wanna come, don't you?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Yes, what?" Hidan tightened the grip, your back against his chest.

"Yes, daddy! Please, I want it, I want it!" You whimpered.

"And are you going to give Jashin everything he wants?"

It was decided — Hidan stripped you of any speck of humanity or rationality you had left in you. You loved him, after all, and he loved Jashin.

"Yes, I will! Jashin can have anything he wants as long as I have you."

"Good girl." He kissed your head before releasing your neck, hands gripping your hips to hold you in place. "Nowyou can come."

Your cunt was aching for release, and you mustered enough strength to rub your clit in messy, circular motions. Soon enough, you felt it coming — the rush of adrenaline as Hidan fucked into you, fingers pinching your sore nipples. You came on his cock with a soft moan and with one final, violent thrust he fills you up, cum dripping from your sloppy cunt as he pulls out. You rolled on your back, propping yourself on your elbows and Hidan froze, the sight of your used and abused pussy hypnotising him.

"Like what you see?" You grinned, fingers tentatively grazing over your slit, dipping between your folds before you brought them to your mouth to taste his seed.

"Shit, I think I'm in love." His sangria eyes bore into yours and your heart fluttered. You knew he was an asshole, and he probably only said it in the heat of the moment, but you were satisfied with what you got.

"What about him?"

"Meh, Kakuzu will take care of the mess. I wanna take a fucking bath." Hidan picked his red and black cloak up from the floor before getting up. "And I'm starving."

You pursed your lips and lowered your gaze. So much for being in love with you.

"You coming to the hot springs?"

"Me?"

"As much as I adore seeing you covered in blood, that shit's dry and crusty." He threw you your cloak.

"You wanna take a bath... with me?"

"Yes? The fuck are you acting so surprised? I just said I'm in love with you but you're surprised I wanna take a bath with you?"

"You know what, stop talking." You rolled your eyes and got up.

"I think the fuck not."

"Fuck's sake, Hidan, let's go."

"Fuckin' crazy bitch."

[aphrodite-would-be-proud]

🕯 Anon said: I can hardly ever find someone who writes for Moblit? Could we have some more relationship headcannons? Hes one of my favorite characters yet hes so underrated! 🕯

Moblit relationship HCs

{ Moblit x reader | tw:none | fluff | modern }

{ "Garden in the Wachau" by Hugo Charlemont 1850 - 1939 }

His weakness is puppy eyes and honey glazed words, will tremble and his logic stops whenever you play the role, guaranteed to work 99.9% of the time.

Very fun to poke at, tease and fluster, will get defensive in an instant and tries to play it off but you can clearly see him huffing. Don't worry deep down he enjoys it.

Amazingly good at sketching and art in general, even with a number 2 pencil and the cheapest sketchbook out there, he will create a masterpiece.

Really good at shading, lining and having strong stable lines. Pretty good at mechanical designs and even architectural floor plans. On top of that he can draw faces and anatomy, sketches people a lot as practice when he's bored.

Speaking of that, whenever he's working on paperwork or making a work sketch, he finds himself drawing parts of you at the corner of each page surrounded by little hearts.

He also draws you a lot in general, would just glance up at you and study your features for a good meeting before getting to work, he finds it so relaxing that he uses it as warm up when his brain won't cooperate.

Really thankful and smiley whenever you get him art supplies since he runs out of them pretty quickly, will give you the most heartwarming smile you've ever seen just because you brought him a new sketchbook on your way home.

Pretty good at eye measuring stuff, can accurately point an objects dimensions without a measuring tape. It's a really useful skill when furniture shopping.

Listen to him when he says that couch is too big for your living room, he knows what he's talking about.

Will reluctantly help you move it if you still decide to buy it, but will be all huffy about it.

Will also be grumpy the next day when he has to move it again so you can return it because it turned out it really was too big for the living room and you kept accidentally hitting your leg against it.

Despite his grumpiness and "i told you!" Attitude, he will still help you without hesitation or for you to ask.

The trick is to give him a small "thank you" kiss and that will shut him up, he'll instantly forget what he was even complaining about and just immediately be wrapped around your finger again.

No matter how long you've been together, he still gets surprised whenever you kiss or hug him. He blinks for a few seconds as he process what just happened.

It's probably because his mind still hasn't caught up to the fact he now has someone to be intimate with, having always thought he'd end up one of those guys married to work.

So whenever you remind him that, hey you're actually here and still with him, he still gets that warm and fuzzy feeling each time like cotton filled his brain and he can't think about anything beside you and how the clouds wouldn't compare to the softness in his heart when you call his name.

Since you came into his life, the colours have been a lot more vibrant and the chaos that is his constant overthinking brain finally began to calm down a lot more.

The type to give you his, scarf, jacket, gloved and even hat if you show any sign of being cold, he'll just do it without question and takes your hands in his to blow a warm breathe on them.

Also the type to take whatever you're holding and carry it for you instead, no matter how heavy or light, he'll just continue the conversation like it's nothing.

Whenever he's tired, he doesn't like to talk about it, he just buries his head in your shoulder and takes a small nap as he vents to you about his worries.

Plays multiple instruments actually, doesn't like bringing it up because he thinks it's not that impressive. 

He's genuinely a very artistic person by nature, yet chose the path of experiments and mathematics.

Sometimes he will think which will sound better, if he took your last name or if you took his. He has these thoughts a lot throughout the day but doesn't bring them up.

Quick reflexes. Can and will catch anything you dropped, catch something before it spills and knows when to save a document before the app crashes. 

Really really likes it when you come for him for help, even for mondaine stuff. It doesn't show much but inside he's beaming, he actually even expects it and will get pouty if you don't.

Has a hard time asking you or anyone for help though, you'll have to subtly initiate it first.

Gets nervous if someone watches him while he's drawing, will mess it up, especially if it's you.

Doesn't...get hints or Flirting much, for someone so smart he sure is oblivious. It isn't that he doesn't understand it but it's more he doesn't think that's the way you meant it.

Yeah, romantically he's very awkward.

Yet very easy to read once you catch on to a couple things, his body language and voice tone almost makes him an open book.

If you mention something you like or show him something you're interested in, he will save that information in his brain till an occasion arrives.

He remembers everything, every single thing.

Will get you that thing or something related to the Internet in the span of a few weeks. His logic is that if you want something surely it is his job to get it isn’t it? 

Likes to provide, a lot. 

Is pretty good at cooking, terrible at baking. 

Makes a lot of small sacrifices for you throughout his day without mentioning them.

Like getting the kind of chips you like instead of his, making your favourite food for dinner instead of his, picking candles in your favourite scent instead of his, getting things in your favourite colour, etc.

Will jump in your defence without a second thought if he saw you being uncomfortable, literally pushes himself in front you.

Doesn't wear ties because...he's terrible at them, they always end up messy, too loose or too tight.

Hange 100% teases him about it, even though they don't know how to tie one either.

If you do it for him, he will actually melt into a puddle on the floor and end up on his toes the whole day.

Will secretly intentionally untie it just so you can fix it for him.