#im pretty similar to you in this regard

[vaugarde]

speaking of tawnypelt its so funny when people go “mothpool is bad because people reduce mothwings character to just this fanon relationship! why not focus on her relationship with her thunderclan siblings!!!” 

like. girl WHAT relationship?

[aq2003]

oh btw i get even more why brennan (like me) clocked sophomore year fabian as fucked up and sad even if some of the other pcs were like "what are you talking about dude" . it's because the basic core theses of fabian and leiland eftbk as characters are actually pretty similar

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Besotted

♡ featuring: yandere!ajax x f!reader

♡ summary: the love of your life knows you without asking, selfless and caring. however, you're slowly starting to realize the man you loved was a mask of the truth hiding underneath. wc: 12.5k+

♡ cw/tw: modern au, mentions of violence/blood, mentions of suicide, stalking, obsession, possessiveness, manipulation, rough sex, sideways sex, cockwarming, mating press, cunnilingus, drugging, overstimulation, praise, pet names (lots of them tbh)

notes: im so sorry i know it took me a long time but my time has been consumed by exams and its finals week soon so ahhhh. it's going to take me a little longer than usual until my semester is over, forgive me!! art by jam8366_dday on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

“Caramel macchiato for… Katheryne?” Your quiet voice deadens among the bustling crowd of businessmen, secretaries, and construction workers alike conversing through their morning wake-up. It’s incomparable to the serene appeal of a corner coffee shop—piled high with board games and books, the nooks and crannies decorated with some sort of trinket or knickknack you collected along the way, baubles that brought you joy and spread some to anyone that entered the cozy hole in the wall—“The Mad Hatter”. People are free to add stickers to the cash register, so convoluted with color similar to graffiti, including the pink-hatted cat Lyney glued to the top. Coffee tables share space with buoyant sofas, opposite of the display case viewing a multitude of extra sweet desserts and breakfast sandwiches. At night, the fairy lights bordering the wide veiled windows glimmered a dim hue that made feathery snow sparkle like stars during winter. You set the coffee under warm lights dotting the ceiling, emanating above the wooden interior. No one is finicky for your tastes; you are happy to see the familiar cheerful or grumpy faces entering the shop. You remember names, faces, and minute personal details they’d forgotten they shared over a steaming cup of latte left to warm because the art was too pretty to drink. They’re busy, but patient; they've acquainted you long enough to not be angry at the wait, and most times come to your defense against unruly customers. 

It's the worst—or for you, the best—in the afternoons, swarming crowds waiting for an afternoon pick-me-up. You and Lyney work to the best of your ability, serving up group orders with a quickness unparalleled by nearby chain coffeehouse’s. You regard it as your passion, although your parents were disappointed when you told them you and Lyney would be buying and renovating an abandoned property states over all for coffee; your delectable drinks have the potential to form long lasting relationships between you and other customers, and there’s a certain creative merit you relish whenever a guest takes pictures of the swan-like artistry foaming on the surface. The taste of bitter beans sparks moments of merriment, longing, and love—in some cases, it’s the best form of intimacy.  

Your best memories live in this shop; the ground powder that scattered everywhere and painted Lyney like a chocolate sculpture when he tried to push the inventory to the highest shelf or staying up after close in the middle of a blizzard to make flimsy homemade decorations for the grand opening with help from Lynette. 

It’s extra special that the very place you stand is where you found the love of your life. You met him at the register, loose curls dipped in autumn tones spilling over his long lashes. The void in his eyes motionless like the ocean before a low tide. You both stared at each other for a moment, taking in the lines and details of your flustering faces. You must’ve been staring for too long, as Lyney tapped your shoulder with a side eye that alerted you to the awkward silence and line heading out the door. You fumbled for apologies and took his order; the ginger boy chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck—Ajax—such a rugged name for a pretty guy. You prepared the Frappuccino with a drizzle of affection bespoken for him. When you gave him the drink, his hand grazed against yours, a kiss without lips. It left you breathless, and with an airy coyness he said, “I didn’t get your name?” You told him, and he tried out the sound on his tongue. You wished he’d say it over and over. With a rosy wash across his cheeks, “A fitting name for your beauty. Have a good day, (Y/N)” was all he said before he walked away, leaving you stunned and smitten. Lyney was the unfortunate victim that dealt with your wearisome fantasizing about Ajax. 

But Ajax already knew your name. And address, and friends.  

How could he not? When he saw you hanging lights in the windows on a particularly sunny morning that made your glowing face shine with pure radiance unrivaled by deities, he sunk endlessly. He vowed to walk at a distance at that same time every day to ogle your lustrous hair, your soft skin that didn’t break a sweat, the curve of your lips. You soon became an itch he couldn’t scratch, a plaguing thought that wiggled in the wrinkles of his brain and made it hard to sleep or work. You, you, you. Is your laugh a heavy snort or more lighthearted, do you have the same sense of humor as him? You’ll like what he likes, think what he thinks. 

You were constantly on his mind, he wondered if you were eating when he ate or how good you were sleeping as he drifted off to his. It’s not his fault that he snapped discrete pictures of your smiling face, you were too adorable to ignore. He valued coming home to kneel at the little shrine he made of your printed gaiety, surrounded by consistently fresh roses and citrus candles he thought you’d smell like. If he stood close enough, it was like you were right in front of him. The apron tied around your waist was a vibrant crimson—his favorite color. It's fate, the way the stars aligned and sent angels down to bless you with a pinafore of his approval. You had to know he was out there; he was already imagining returning to a cheerful home, and your swaying hips as you whipped up a glacé delight. He’d kiss you on the cheek, and you’d pop a tart blueberry in his mouth. Yes—it had to be this way, it must be what you wanted, too. 

Ajax coincidentally found himself rummaging through trash cans in the vicinity for an inkling of receipts from the shop. He stumbled upon it, of course—it’s not like he waited out until nightfall right before garbage day to have the highest chances of finding identification. The jagged fragment of a receipt led to your family, social media, and blogs you dedicated to your baking progress. And he’d monitor the sites on different screens with multiple tabs, an infatuated glaze over those dull eyes that kept him glued to the updates for hours. He made many accounts, liking your posts fervently with flimsy justifications of encouragement. You became reachable day by day. 

The day Ajax decided to pursue you upfront, it was a dream he hoped never to wake. He’d rehearsed it obsessively until the moment he stood in front of the glass door, a tremble in his restless legs at the thought of looking ridiculous. Seeing you up close felt like a special occasion. His heart was beating off-kilter in his quaking chest, as if jumping free fall out of a plane, and he held his breath until it opened. The confidence he mustered up before he got to the register did little to suppress the giddiness rolling in his veins. His pulse paced the closer he got. Two more orders and there you were; the center of his universe, and you didn’t know it yet. Pictures didn’t do you justice—no, he needed to see your grace preserved in museums depicted in rich Renaissance paintings onlookers could only fantasize holding or loving, but you’d be for him, and him alone. He drew a blank. “May I get your name for the order?” His eyes flickered with a brand-new luster, it melded certainty and delusion.  

She wants...my name.  

My name.  

The sweet harmony of your words lulled Ajax to an addicting turbid spiral that swept fondness through the tempest and scattered infatuation in its aftermath. A feeling too tenacious, it must be love. The incessant burn urged him to protect and guide you to him. You need him. Now he watched compulsively with a winded jaw, your smile to other men who couldn't compare to his devotion. They don’t know you like he does. He could map out the corners of your house from the slim backgrounds of your blog posts or name every club you’ve participated in since middle school. Hunger spread where his fists craved contact, like sunfire corroding the taught skin on his knuckles. They’ve breathed your air and existed in your presence. It’s undeserved, they’re unworthy. 

How fucking dare they. 

How lost you must be without him, led astray by intruding greed; he selflessly assumed his responsibility. You are his, after all. So, he stalked behind cars shadowed by harsh streetlamps to ensure you got home safe and intercepted your packages to check for threatening substances. The accomplishment he felt whenever he completed his—in his words, “duties”—instilled exultation beyond any memory. Within the envelopes, he’d leave an elegant note embellished with hearts hinting at his infatuation and the care he put in to maintain your safety. One letter turned to two, then five, to the point where you’d receive a sleeve stuffed with increasingly unhinged letters from your secret admirer that fanned out when you tipped it. 

On Christmas Eve, a limitless cloak of frozen stardust decided to flurry right before your shift ended. You covered Lyney’s shift so he’d have time to spend with Lynette and Freminent; it wasn’t like you had anything to do afterwards. You counted the flakes of the storm through frosted glass, thinking about the wellbeing of your family back home. Mailed gifts couldn't console the grief you felt during the holidays. A knock on the door turned your attention to the silhouette of a man wearing a slouched beanie with a pompom on top. You unlocked the door, and it swung open from the whirling heft of wind and smattered white across the wood from empty streets. 

“Sorry, we just closed-” You looked up, no time to register the freckled face from months ago, that stole your heart with a smile. Icy grains kissed his cheeks, as red as apples, and fused to the wool scarf draped around his trench coat. “Oh! Hello, again.” You tried to play it off, but the crack in your voice teetered. You were suddenly nervous. Ajax grinned hard and shuffled slightly inwards to escape the chill.  

“Hi (Y/N)! I was really hoping you weren’t closed, it’s a good day to grab a hot chocolate, y’know?” 

“It is. You’re probably freezing, please come in.” You should’ve been home by now, but for Ajax, you could spare a few minutes. He unraveled his winter attire to reveal a tightly fitted turtleneck and took a seat at the chair closest to you. You wrap around the counter and start the kettle, struggling with what to do next at the gaze gripping your mind. “One hot chocolate, coming up.” 

“How much I owe ya?” he chirped, arms resting on the table while he watched you grab two mugs. “No worries, it’s on the house. Consider it your Christmas present.” 

“I appreciate that, thank you. You really are kind...Lyney left you by yourself tonight?” You wondered how he knew Lyney’s name when they hadn’t met, but quickly brushed it off. 

“Yeah, I wanted him to spend time with his family.” 

“And you don’t have any here?” You didn’t retain your usual weariness towards acquaintances. On this lonely night Ajax didn’t feel like much of a stranger. 

“Nah, moved away to start this.” Your hands gestured to the quaint interior. Ajax scanned his surroundings, marveling at the scenery before he spoke. “What you’ve done with this, it’s lovely. Your ambition and dedication are apparent from the way you treat the customers, I can tell you’re passionate about what you do.” Your body flared like summer and succeeded in hushing the breeze. You poured a cup full of thick cocoa and plopped a dollop of whipped cream on both. “It’s not much, but-” the mugs settled on the table, and you sat across from him. “It smells amazing, (Y/N). You’re an expert at this” he interrupted. You traced the rim with your finger and rested your head on the other hand. 

“Thanks...I assume you don’t have family here, either? Think you’d be ripping open gifts by now if you did.” He took another sip. “Yup, they live in a different country. I should visit them soon” he sighed and glanced at the jumbled wool scarf. “Did a sibling make that for you?” you asked. 

“Yeah, my sister. A parting gift.” 

“It’s beautiful, she’s very talented” you remarked, admiring the delicate fleece. The bittersweet smile in response stuck to your heartstrings. “She is.” 

You both drank in silence and occasionally met each other's eyes, only to turn away. Something unsaid hung in the air. "Winter has a way of making us reminisce. It’s so depressing” you confided. You hadn’t told Lyney, but you were terribly lonely these past months. You replaced your emotions with extra shifts, but they came crashing down in the darkness of your bedroom. Ajax gazed at you like he could see through you. 

“The sky appears magnificent under the snow's embrace. Its purity is like the moon's gentle radiance. I don’t think there’s anything like a world covered in snow" he soothed. His words flustered you, and you homed in on the white trails dancing in your lukewarm cup. 

“I’ve never thought of it like that. I used to hate snow. It feels...intruding, I guess.” 

“But if we don’t allow ourselves to be intruded, how will we love?” he blurted. It was comforting to hear in the moment, and you returned his smile. 

“Is the hot chocolate good?” you asked. 

“It’s perfect.... you’re perfect.” You chuckled at the notion, mistaking it for pity. “I’m not perfect.” 

“But you are. The way you carry yourself, your intelligence, your courtesy. You’re flawless, gorgeous inside and out and you don’t even notice.” The way Ajax looked at you, on the verge of his seat and studying your face, lips, and hair. You couldn’t deny the flattery that drowned you and dragged you the more he persisted. “How would you know from one encounter?” His mouth fixed to say it, the truth, but he tight-lipped and reached into his coat pocket instead. He grabbed a blue velvet box and slid it to you. 

“I wanted to give you this. Ever since I saw you.” It felt expensive under your fingertips. You unclasped the front, and it opened to a twinkling pendant. It was a cable chain dangling an oval sapphire gem, with 18 karat white-gold halo sunbursts surrounding it. It’s breathtaking, as if stolen from the tomb of a goddess. 

“Wow, this is...stunning. Ajax, I can’t accept this; it’s too much” you pressured. You’ve never received a gift of this caliber from anyone, it didn’t feel right to look at it. 

“Consider it your Christmas present” he repeated. You shook your head and held up the box to hand it back to him. “I can’t, I shouldn’t-” 

“Please” he pleaded. He clasped your hands, a reassuring thumb gently caressing yours. You were so focused on its extravagance that you didn’t notice the note stuck to the roof of the box. Refined script dotted with hearts; the same style as the hundreds in your closet. Your mouth gaped. 

“This letter...you...have you been the one sending me all those love letters?” You should've had your suspicions, or the urge to back away, but you weren’t afraid. You tried to string together his ability to find your address or mail, or how he knew Lyney, but your brain couldn’t clear the fog of feeling loved after so many years. It’s a warm hug to the blood that instinctively ran cold. Your heartbeat’s fast, half with anxiety and the other with desire. 

Ajax solemnly hung his head and retracted his hands. He fidgeted with his thumbs. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you, I thought about being upfront, but I was so scared of your response and I didn’t want you to hate me, so I thought maybe if I sent them anonymously you could start liking the person behind it or if I played my cards right you’d find out who it was...but that doesn’t make any sense now that I’m thinking about it, I just wanted to be near you. You’re so amazing and smart and beautiful, I just...s-sorry…I’m rambling. I hope you can understand; I-I didn’t mean to harm I just want to make sure you’re safe” he choked. The strained words tumbled over one another and broke in places, where they traveled off at the end. Ajax averted your eyes, pools of tears threatening to fall from the corners. The sudden mood change took you off guard, and you reached for his guilty hands. You were on the verge of divulging your entirety for him, be it the isolation of the big city or lack of attention. He didn’t seem like a bad guy; he might have been misguided. What’s the harm in giving him a chance? 

“It’s okay, Ajax. I’m not upset, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered” you giggled. “The letters are sweet, I read all of them. They make me feel a little better about living in a shithole apartment. Thank you.” He looked at you, bottomless intensity searching for more. “I’m interested in you, too” you added. 

“Then you’ll be my girlfriend?” It was phrased as a question but arrived as a proclamation. “...I would love that.” 

Ajax moved around the table. You rose to wrap your arms around his neck while he squeezed your waist with his head lying on your shoulder. The duping tears vanished like they didn’t exist, and his shameful expression morphed into a conniving smirk stretching unnaturally in his triumph. Your authentic touch, the smell of perfume wafting in his nose. It’s not citrus, but it’s you. You, everything is you. This is how things were meant to be. His eyes curved like arches from sheer elation, biting his lip to stifle the cackle. You’re together, at last. 

The snow stopped some time ago, but the blizzard was just beginning. 

Your relationship with Ajax progressed fast after that day. A weariness dulled within you after you came to your senses from your prior confession, and you weren’t sure about the stability of his neurotic nature. However, when Ajax showed up with a bouquet of the loveliest flowers you’ve ever laid eyes on during an exhausting shift, it shined above all else. He showers you with consistent love and attention and worships the ground you walk on with doting devotion. He's clingy and somewhat suffocating, but his sick adoration blesses you with rose-colored glasses; you’re divinity on a golden pedestal in his eyes, and if he fell hard, you fell harder. The considerate, caring, good listener he is makes the small hiccups go over your head. In the first few months you were unequivocally enamored, the kind that tied your universe to his. You patter about him to Lynette, who gives you half-concerned approval at the story of how you met and the “little things” you cherish.  

Like when he allowed you to move in without a second thought. The paint chipped around dodgy windowsills and fraying carpets, and your landlord wouldn’t pay for the fixes. Unfortunately, you needed a place to stay and couldn’t afford to speak up about the horrible conditions. You were used to your slumlord at that point, but the absence of working heat and busted appliances led you to the arms of your boyfriend, sobbing about the stress your landlord subjected you to. He scooped you like fragile glass as you faltered through shaky breaths grating your lungs and hushed your distress. Kissing your head, he rubbed your back and mumbled into your hair. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of it...I’ll take care of everything.”  

A week later you’d found out that your landlord died from a gruesome suicide, and all tenants had to leave the auctioned duplex. Ajax took you in, and you began adapting to his midtown townhouse. Though you felt like a mooch at first, the welcoming interior had you snuggling between his downy bedding in no time. He shouldered your burden, accepted your genuine self and lavished generous replacements of the items you couldn’t carry. You don’t lift a finger around him, and he readily cooks and cleans for your comfort. 

You’ve gotten accustomed to his presence. When you wake, he’s either watching you sleep silently or preparing food for you to take to work. Ajax follows you around like an obedient pet, smoothing your hair and highlighting how beautiful you look in your rough post-morning wake-up state. He’ll try to kiss you before toothpaste, and you playfully mush his disappointed face off to get dressed. He compensates by kissing in other places, your clothed knee as he ties your shoes or your hands when they interlock. Prior to departing, he attaches that sapphire elegance to your neck. You grab your tidy lunchbox and stroll together in the early hours of the morning for your opening shift. “Have a good day, baby” he says, and places sugary smooches from your lips to your forehead and back again. You’d stand there forever, embracing his warmth if your alarm didn’t notify you to start prepping.  

When Ajax isn’t around, and you’re busy piping frosting onto cakes, there’s a profound hole in your happiness that can’t be filled with buttercream. The way his nose scrunches when he laughs hard, and those hot honey strands tickling your cheeks when you sleep because his face is directly on top of yours make you crave his sight and touch. Sometimes you ponder what you’ve done to deserve someone so over the moon for you. Hell, you’d give him the moon if that’s what he wanted; it’d barely cover a fraction of the benevolence he’s evinced. For now, you blink distraction away, and there's spread sloppily piled over the cakes and countertop. You simper to yourself; such a handsome, tender handful. 

Your daydreams carry you through close, and you and Lyney remain as you wipe down tacky tables with rags lathered in disinfectant. You’re circling surfaces with vigor, quick to move to the next. You hear him laugh from another table. “Okay, speed cleaner. Missing your house husband?” he teases. You roll your eyes and pretend to throw the rag at him. “Hurry up, I wanna go home.” He fake cowers and throws his hands up in surrender. “Yes ma’am. Don’t waste all your strength, Lynette will be upset if you can’t dance with her tomorrow.”  

“I’m not some old woman, Lyn. I can party.” You force away the memory of sleeping on Lyney’s shoulder in the lounge area of a booming club. 

“Sure, grandma. Don’t forget your cane when I pick you up” he jokes. You chortle, and actually throw the rag this time. Too bad his agile form dodges it. “I gotta let Ajax know.”  

“...Right.” Lyney loses momentum and stares at the steaming bucket for a pregnant pause, stirring the rag to buy time. You glance towards him, and he shifts a peccant look. You turn on your heels and lean on the back of a chair. 

“Spill it” you demand.  

“Spill what?” 

“What you actually wanna say.” Lyney bites the inside of his cheek to physically restrain the itch that vents brutal honesty. “I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say.” 

You narrow your brows and sigh in disbelief. “So what? We’ve been friends since high school, just tell me.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and gulps a deep breath. “Lyney.” 

“It’s about Ajax” he exhales. “Oh.”  

“I’m worried about you.” You weren’t expecting the serious air, it sounds like an intervention. It's unnatural coming from your easygoing friend. 

“Really? Why?” you question. He blinks for a few moments, dumbfounded at the innocent audacity, or willful ignorance. 

“Some of the stuff you say about him...it creeps me out. How is it not creeping you out?” he stresses, gawking at the exorbitant gem. 

“Hmm, I’m not sure what you mean.” To you, Ajax isn’t the scary type. Mysterious maybe, but his affection prevents you from seeing him as anything but the missing half of your soul. 

“Okay. You don’t remember telling me how he kept that rotting coffee cup from when you guys first met? Or how he watches you sleep? He made your favorite meal first try and called it a ‘lucky guess?’” The more he goes on, the more disbelieved he becomes.  

“I think it’s romantic” you chide. He expels his frustration. 

“(Y/N), I'm not saying any of this to be a hater, but all of this is unhealthy. Unhealthy might be an understatement. I mean, the man acts like he can't live without you. What if you were to break up, can you be sure he won't lose his fucking mind?” The hypothetical calamity of separation sinks seeds in puddles of doubt. It’s not possible. 

“We love each other. That won’t happen.” 

“It’s been over a year, and you know nothing about him. He comes out of nowhere, sweeps you off your feet, love bombs you, and you take it at face value. Maybe he truly is the one and it’s love at first sight, but this whole situation is...odd. I care about you, (Y/N), and this guy scares me. He’s hiding something.” You attempt to formulate a fact you’ve learned about him, a detail to prove how close you’ve gotten, and come to realize there’s none in your reservoir. You know naught of his friends or family or wealth. Ajax tells you safe verities, like his favorite food and hobby. You don’t thirst for personal space or secrets when it comes to Ajax, and the stygian plunge in his eyes gives you no hints, but you believe the pleasing words that escape his lips either way.  

You glance at the empty Tupperware on the counter, that was once packed with a hefty sandwich and strawberries carved into hearts. He's effortlessly adorable, a small berry-stained note with a simple phrase: "you'll do great today <3". Your dream man, he wouldn't hide things from you, you won’t fathom the thought. “I-” 

Ding 

That dazzling toothy gapped grin spreads warmth across your chest and the room instantly feels a bit brighter. Ajax saunters like he owns the place, engulfing your frame in his stature and placing a kiss on your head. Lyney freezes though Ajax ignored his existence. “I’m getting ready to leave” you muffle into the musky denim jacket. He nods, but his action won’t follow his hands sturdy on your waist as you shimmy out. You make haste to the back room, past the pantry dry goods and collect your sweater and bag. 

You’re about to push open the swinging door when you pause, catching a glimpse of Ajax and Lyney through the oval window. They don’t normally interact in the same space, and you thought it best to respect their boundaries. Ajax is turned away from you, but you can see Lyney clear as day, a stone solid unease skipping on his skin that makes calculated breaths too obvious. It’s silent enough to hear a pin drop. His arms are stuck to the sides, and you observe the apron jumbled in his clutches shaking ever so slightly. He’s trained to the hickory grain of the floor, and from a small portion of Ajax’s visible face, it’s a dreadful expression unbeknownst to you.  

There’s an almost tenebrous loom towering over Lyney, and you feel an alarming shiver settle in your lower spine. Were his eyes normally this gloomy? Your heart rate palpitates when it shouldn’t. You want to look away from the swirling dark depths possessing your soulmate, shooting daggers at your friend. His jaw is clenched to popping, veins on his neck and hands chasing bone. He has a lethal grip on Lyney’s shoulder, and the rough tension pulls at the wrinkling undershirt. But he sneers—a twisted, coiling kind that doesn’t match his glare—an impersonation of affability. 

“Ajax” you mutter softly as you sway the door. He turns sharply, and it’s like a flipped switch. The rage decays to ash swiftly and he’s yours again, your adoring admirer. “I'm ready.” He waits for your approach and tangles your hands. You make your way out, freeing Lyney from capitivity. He holds the door open for you to leave, and you shout “Bye, Lyn! I’ll see you tomorrow.” A shell-shocked cast on his face, he doesn’t say a word. 

You sit at the dining table, feeling disconnected from reality while the kitchen rises with a clatter of pans and glass. You scroll through posts on your phone and occasionally peek over at the corridor to watch Ajax work. His passion shows when he cooks, rocking the skillet to upturn the veggies sizzling within. His broad back flexes with skillful movements, and he looks at you, winking with a teasing pucker on his glossy lips. You giggle. I was just imagining things. 

He slides the plates on the table and sits across from you. Ajax sits like a giddy child waiting for you to try their creation, and you take the first bite. The bountiful flavor dances on your tongue. “It’s really good!” you muffle through bites. A tinge of pink sets on his cheeks. “I’m glad you like it.” 

You chew haphazardly out of focus. You can’t help but notice how quiet your phone has been since you’ve moved in, it feels foreign in your possession. Not a single call from your friends came through, forgotten and invisible. You contemplate apologizing to Lyney tomorrow, it was wrong to get defensive towards compassion. Ajax interrupts his eating to track your fork picking at the meal. 

“You okay, sweetheart? You aren’t eating.” 

You awake from your trance. “Huh? Oh, nothing. Just feels kinda off.” Ajax’s back straightens, and he tenses throughout at a semblance of negative diction. “What does? The food? I’ll remake it” he stumbles. 

“No no, the food is great. It’s, I don’t know. I haven’t got a call from Tiggy in a while.” The corners of Ajax’s mouth contort. 

“Really...I heard he’s been hangin’ out with some new people.” His tone is dry, it strives to be nonchalant. His elbows rest on the table, and he carves his knife into bloody steak like struggling living bone. 

“So, I guess that means he can’t message me anymore, huh” you chuckle. He twists the knife deeper, as if it’s digging in his back. “He’s just a bad friend honestly. Not consistent, you even said he missed your birthday last year. Who needs a friend like that?” 

“I guess.” Meanwhile, you flip through your contacts searching for Tighnari’s name; come to find out he’s nowhere in your phone. In fact, a lot of messages and numbers seemed to have dwindled over time. Your own parents, vanished. Perhaps you were so overworked you’d forgotten they deleted. You start scouring for his profile, but it doesn’t come up. You can’t imagine Tighnari wiping out his entire presence, and it’s not just him. Outside him are the piles of male friends you seldom locate, and you become flustered at your blindness. You look at Ajax, and his eyebrows quirk up to inquire about your confusion. 

“That’s so weird. I should try calling him-” 

“Don't.” It’s not suggestive, its one note, stern demand. It rings in your ears, and when that mask slips for a terrifying moment, you hold your breath until it recurs. “’S not that I don’t want you to, honey. He clearly doesn’t care in the first place, that’s not a sign of a good friend. I’m just trying to help; you know I always have ou- your best interest.” There’s an unrelenting pit in your stomach telling you it’s wrong. “You seem tense since we left, Ajax. Are you alright?” He stops, it leaves you on edge when a formidable shadow casts over his eyes from his bangs that make them look as endless as the bottom of the sea.  

“I feel like...you’re straying away from me. You’re becoming more secretive. Have I done something to violate your trust?” You don’t consider how Ajax knew Tighnari, let alone how he’d find the password to your phone. It was your fault, it had to be. The solemn quiver of his lips clears your suspicion. You’d forget it all to see him happy again. You stand and sway to his side of the table, sitting on his lap to take his face in your hands. “Not at all, babe. My phone’s been acting up, I didn’t mean to accuse you. I just asked because you and Lyney looked high-strung. ‘M sorry.” You kiss him softly with reassurance, and he melts in your touch. The foggy residue shows on his blushing face, and you introduce another to his cheek. “I’m going to a party with Lyney and Lynette tomorrow, so I wanted to see if Tiggy would come.” 

“Ah...okay. Don’t worry, darling, it was a short conversation.” Vague and unassuming, but it didn’t matter now. Ajax can’t deceive you. 

The state you drifted off—lying on Ajax’s chest with his arms embracing your lax figure—is not how you awake. A piercing scream rises, and you jump out of bed in a drowsy stupor. “Ajax?” you addle. Metal clangs to the floor, and the sheets hang low on your hips before you dart down the stairs and through the dining room to discover the cause of the noise.  

He’s kneeling on the kitchen tile, compressing his forearm. Vermillion overflows between his fingers and palm and spatters his shirt. The knife, along with a clumsily chopped apple, is muddy with blood. “Oh my god!” You sprint for a towel and first aid kit crammed underneath the kitchen sink. When you return, Ajax is hissing from the sting, salty tears smeared on his eyelashes. You accompany him on the floor, ignoring the crime scene peppering the cabinets and gently glide his hands to get free view of the wound. “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah, now that you’re here.” It’s a nasty cut, not a gash but painful, nonetheless. You bring him to wash the excess blood, and pat it dry carefully. The fizz from disinfectant makes his arm jolt, but you hold him steady to apply. As you bandage his arm, he blinks away the twinge.  

“I’m sorry, baby. You have work in a few minutes, and you’re here taking care of me. Go ahead and get ready, I’ll do it.” 

“No way in hell am I leaving you like this. Don’t apologize” you insist, the end of your wrap stuffed to secure. You can’t conceive clocking in or partying tonight while Ajax suffers at home. “I’m gonna call out for a couple days so I know you’re well. Relax, I’ll be right back, okay?” He nods, and you rush to the bedroom to retrieve your phone. Ajax wipes his face on his sleeve, streaking insincere sorrow near the serpentine smirk. 

You spent the day cleaning the home, wiping the kitchen top to bottom and making dinner for Ajax. He rests in bed, and you often check in on him. Treating him like an intensive care patient might’ve been excessive, but he accepts your gentle touch and hand fed meals nursing him back to health. You’re lying in bed with him, and the load of his brawny chest forces yours into the mattress with your legs on either side. You massage the pads of your fingers into his scalp, and your breathing weighted blanket emits a groan. Dazed and fully lax, lulling from the rise and fall of your chest. 

The second day is the same, but the lack of pressure divides your dreary lids. It’s midnight, and it casts a fluorescent glow that permeates the room. You feel your way from walls to banister, and as you’re about to step down the stairs to get water, you pause before the living room. Crouched, peeking through the bars of the banister, you see Ajax on the couch in absolute quiet. Shade stands in place of his facial features, obscured besides the hazy veneer in his iris that bores into the journal in front of him. The collage catches moonbeams on the coffee table, crowded with tiny notes that peak out the uniform pages, and polaroid pictures glued to each sheet, stacked so thick it can’t close. He uses the pen you thought you’d lost moving in, running his tongue over the older bite marks on its base. Squinting your eyes fails at registering the specifics. 

You suck in a breath and take another step, hoping the unreliable foundation won’t give way to whining wood. He skims across the words as if they’re memorized, and crows to himself. Eeeeir. It conforms, and the minute you press into it and that haunting sound whispers through the house, Ajax cracks his neck to your position. You stiffen, a deer in headlights. He puts down the pen. 

“Oh, darling. I’m sorry, did I wake you?” he coos. You shoot to a stand, and Ajax meets you at the bottom of the staircase. “I-I just wanna get some water.” You feel meek and small, fairly avoiding his gaze. He enfolds your jaw with his bad arm like it doesn’t hurt, and pecks you on your forehead, light with anxious sweat. “I can get that for you, dear.” Before he can go, you interrupt. 

“Ajax.” 

“Hm?” 

“The book over there, did you make it?” He alternates between you and the book and glisters his pearly whites. He delicately hauls it to you, “I was going to wait for it to be done, but you can read it now if you want.” You hesitate. You aren’t sure if you want to read it. Regardless, you ferry it in your arms, hefty despite being incomplete. 

You unfurl the cover. 

Page after page, your pulse pumps sonorously in your ears, uncontrollable where goosebumps surge through ebbing limbs. Without a doubt, you’re frightened. Aghast, gaping mouth with eyes the size of dinner plates. Dating from your first encounter, poems and chaotic paragraphs of infatuation. Your sleeping silhouette, columns of reverence, strands of your hair taped like art—pictures of you you’ve never seen taken behind cars and lamp posts.  

The lengthy muddled captions emphasize how beautiful you are, how gracious you must be, because he hadn’t met you yet. On top of it all, written repeatedly in red and smothered in hearts, “I love you (Y/N)”. You don’t want to hold it. It’s broiling on your palms; you want it thrown in fire and scorched to shriveling. It almost reads as a manifesto, with jumbled threats sprinkled above overriding ink. Brutal crimes he’d commit if you were ever harmed, the gory actions he envisioned doing to your male customers. It’s incoherent and unorganized. The last page you flip to etches drought in your throat; A dried scrap of the towel you used to tend to his injury is taped inside. A new entry: 

“ (Y/N) takes care of me! without her I am nothing  my sun and star        ♡    my blood and bone           ♡  ♡ my goddess, my angel,   the very essence of my existence     ♡        ♡     my love is infinite and eternal   you are destined to be mine   ♡     ♡        forever, forever she is mine ”  

You peek up from the book, not prepared to face the source. Ajax ogles you with heart eyes that can’t contemplate the absurdity. They surround you, limit you from speaking undulating panic. Part of you is fearful, the other reserves pure love you still have for him.  

“Do you like it, honey?” No, you hate it. It’s scary and not the man you fell in love with. But those sonnets and odes dripping in honey—descriptions that trickle raw vulnerability and expose his truest intentions—are hard to detest when he treasures you earnestly. His expression, he’ll shatter to flecks if you devastate him. So, you scrape back the bile and oblige a strained smile. 

“I love it, Ajax. Thank you.” 

You’re excited to be at work, and relieved to see Lyney. His banter distracts you from the overbearing air at home. Ajax proceeds like nothing happened, or at least nothing for him. It’s fresh in your mind, torments your thoughts as you get ready for the day. His bare chest hugs you from behind while your brush your teeth and he trails groggy kisses from your shoulder to your jaw. It leaves heat on your ears, and dread in your stomach. The necklace going around you is a cage. 

Closing arrives, and you start wrapping things up. 

“Could you get the dark roast box?” Lyney asks from the bookshelf. 

“Heard” you reply, strolling to storage to find that unnamed box squeezed beside larger product. Balancing the contents, you swing open the door, and let out a gasp to your shock. 

“(Y/N)!” Hollers from the dining area. Collei, Tighnari, and astoundingly, Zhongli swarm near Lynette and Freminent. They’re removing their sweaters, but you don’t give Collei or Tighnari time before you charge at them with an immovable hug.  

“Tiggy, Collei! Oh my god!” She welcomes your embrace, and you hear a labored sigh from Tighnari as he tries to pry your arms. “You might fracture my ribs if you keep hugging so tight.” Collei chuckles, and you break the reunion. “I missed you so much!” she bubbles, practically doing happy feet to exert her enthusiasm. You move to Zhongli and greet him with a lukewarm “Hello.” 

Zhongli, your college boyfriend. The terms you ended on were neither good nor bad. He was a cold selfish player, who wanted to have his cake and eat it too. Unfortunately, he got clumsy with the surplus of women he juggled, and you found out you were a number among many. You shed misery in front of his dorm room, and he stilled a detached glare whilst you shouted through its paper-thin halls with unfiltered rage. It was one of the worst moments of your life. A couple years down the line, and you’ve learned to forgive him for his disrespectful, arrogant attitude.  

“You look well” he charms with silky bass. “I am.” 

The couple hours you spend catching up and playing board games goes fluently. Tighnari, Lynette, and Freminent rib about the rules they established mid-way through their card game, and you and Collei sit enchanted by the cozy villager simulation on her handheld console. One of her legs is on top of yours, and you’re leaning in her space. Zhongli can’t catch your sight, purposely projecting louder than usual as he enjoyed a drink made by Lyney. 

“She’s so cute! What’s that one called?” 

“Merengue, she’s my favorite.” 

“Hope Merengue helps you with your PhD thesis” Tighnari intrudes, followed by an annoyed sigh at the “+2” card Freminent puts down. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me!” 

“I didn’t know you were going for a PhD, that’s great” you praise. 

“I guess you wouldn’t know, since you don’t bother to call. Had to find out how you’re doing from Lyney” he jokes. You tilt your head. “Me? You have me blocked on everything.” 

“You don’t come up for me either. I’ve tried calling you a few times, but it went to voicemail. I assumed you had a new phone” Collei supports. You reply with a dry chuckle, and navigate accounts you blocked, evidence they were restricted. It concludes with blank lists where their names should appear. Nothing, not even a way to add them again. This whole ordeal makes you feel like you’re going crazy. You feel bile filling the chambers of your throat, accompanied by a distinct unsettling swell on your temples. Collei notices your furrowed brows and rubs your back. 

“Is everything alright?” Her voice is removed from static hammering your eardrums. 

“Uh, y-yes. I need some water.” You move to the register, where Lyney is wiping down the counter. He slides you a water bottle from the mini fridge. “Don’t throw up, I just cleaned this.” 

“I’ll do my best” you retort. He slants to you, whispering, “Sorry about Zhongli, they didn’t tell me he was tagging along.” You wave it off and take a swig.  

“We gotta talk later. You were right...he’s hiding something.” He gives a comforting nod, and a slender hand enters your peripheral vision.  

“You mind making another, Lyney?” 

“God, you’re insatiable” he complains, and takes Zhongli’s cup for a refill.  

“You both did an outstanding job with the café. It’s homely.” You snort, head resting on your hand. “Is that your way of saying it’s shit?” 

Zhongli frowns, “I’m being serious, I’m proud of what you’ve done here.” 

“Interesting. I’m surprised this isn’t a downgrade to you.” 

“Anything you contribute to is an automatic upgrade.” That sad attempt at flirtation makes you scoff. “Guess your post-college affairs aren’t as frequent if you’re stooping this low.” Maybe you weren’t over it completely. 

“How many times must I apologize?” 

“Until you die.” 

“I’m willing to do that, as many times as it takes.”  

You huff, “It doesn’t matter, Zhongli. I’m in a relationship.” 

“Are you happy?” You don’t have a quip for that question, and it rains on your emotions when you consider it. A flower struggles to bloom through intense downpours. 

“Of course I am.” His smile is frail, and he places a mellow hand on your shoulder. “Then he has all he could ever ask for.”  

The door abruptly opens. Collei’s holding it, and behind it, is Ajax. Dire tension hangs in the air, arid like the anticipation of disaster. Faint smirk and murky glower; the swirling spiral coaxes the same fear you felt last night, and the previous days. His face can’t decide what demeanor to convey, it forces gladness where darkness veils his stare. You tread away from Zhongli, praying he didn’t see the hand that was on you moments ago. Your friend's wave, but he doesn’t return the friendly gesture, instead firing a shaded cast of disgust. He saunters to you with wrenched posture, and each step makes your heart race. 

“Sweetheart, you didn’t answer the phone. I was worried.” He guides you to him by your lower waist. Zhongli watches as Ajax kisses the corner of your mouth, and you beam from the one that tickles your nose. “’M sorry, not feeling so good.” 

“You didn’t tell me you’d be at a party.” 

“It was a surprise.” 

“Ah, I see. These are your friends?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know. 

“Yeah, from back home.” 

“Hello” Zhongli chimes in, holding out his hand to shake. Ajax methodically turns his head to him. You swear you see a vein popping out of his forehead, a splitting stress on his teeth. “Who are you.” 

“Zhongli, I’m an old friend of hers from college. We had a few classes together.” 

“...Friend” he mocks with rictus, “I’ve never heard your name before.” 

“Emphasis on '’old’. I figured I’d stop by since everyone else was here, it’d be a shame to waste such lovely weather-” 

“You talk a lot” he states monotone. Zhongli sneers, “Some may say. I’m quite talkative during social gath-” 

“So shut the fuck up.” The room hushes. You feel the witnesses shrinking themselves at the crushing tension.  

“Excuse me?” 

“Why were you touching her.” He’s jittery, suppressing the turbulent urge shredding through him.  

“I didn’t realize she was your ‘property’” Zhongli scolds. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You put yourself between them, splaying your fingers across Ajax’s chest. His mood switches easily at your expecting gaze. “Ajax, baby, I’m tired. Can we go home now?” He pauses for a final glare at Zhongli. 

“Of course. Let’s go.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief and hold onto his arm as you storm out of the coffeehouse, no time for goodbyes from your friends. You center on leashing Ajax home. Blocks down, you hear the far-off patter of footsteps on stone getting louder. It’s too dinning to ignore, and as you turn around your free arm is snatched by Zhongli. You shriek, “(Y/N), wait, don’t go yet-” 

Whack! His head flies back and pushes him off balance before his feet find stability. It happens so fast, and you look at Ajax, who has a most terrifying dusk pouring on his livid features. Blood gushes from Zhongli’s nose, but he straightens up tall with his fists held in front of him. Ajax cackles, and jabs between the fists that barely have time to block. His movements are fluid, swinging effortlessly after they fall to his sides. Zhongli paces back, and Ajax charges towards him with quick solid blows that make his loafers scratch on the pavement. He plants a mean gut punch to his torso, and Zhongli doubles over until Ajax punches him in the eye with steel knuckles. He collapses, but his fighting hands linger, any chance to defend himself against your merciless boyfriend. That is, until Ajax sits above him, and begins beating him to a pulp. 

Whack! Whack! Whack! His hits are thundering and vicious, tracking blood to his skin from the momentum. You feel lost to time, lost on what to do to save this situation. It sounds like bone swimming in curdling clots and makes you sick. You dive to Ajax, gone by the dead visage. You snake your arms around his waist.  

“Ajax! Please stop!” you scream at the top of your lungs. It falls on deaf ears, but you continue to scream. You’re sobbing into his back and yelling to a hoarse end, when suddenly the punches stop. He gets off Zhongli mechanically and braces your faint legs to rise. It’d be wholesome if not for the blood splattering his hands. He notices your tears and wipes them away, streaking faint blood across your cheek. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m here now.” 

The entire walk home, he’s silent. You hate it when he’s silent. There are cuts spread over his hands and blood steadily runs from the top lip to his swollen bottom lip. He stares off in the distance, concentrated on something—rage, anger—stirring in his cotton-filled brain. You can't read him, and you wonder if you ever had that privilege. 

The pieces come together themselves in a puzzle you unconsciously rejected. You can’t recall the last time you spoke to your parents. His ability to know your favorite meals without talking or gifting you outstanding presents that surfaced memories you’d long forgotten. Collei, Tighnari, Lyney, it’s unmistakable. You beg to be naïve again, hopelessly in love and enraptured.  

You’d rather keep your eyes shut. The sinister rampage spilling out of him is miles apart from the Ajax who serves you breakfast in bed every day and places soft kisses on your body from head to toe. Love is enough, and you know how much he does to show it. Was there another way? Is it your fault this happened? You can’t focus either or organize your jumbled thoughts, and find yourself searching for reassurance within him, any inkling of affection to prove he still loves you. When you sheepishly reach out to grab his wounded hand, he curls around it, and the thump in your heart reignites. A pulse loud enough to subside the dread clamoring in your feet, warning you to run. 

You make it home, and Ajax goes to the kitchen sink to wash away his crimes. He watches red cyclone down the drain, and you lean on a counter close to him. 

“Ajax?” 

“Yea?” he chirps.  

“Zhongli...will he be okay?” you meek. 

“Mhm. I didn’t kill him.” The matter-of-fact reply renders a shudder in your bones.  

“Is something wrong?” The kitchen is small, and from the way you’re standing you’ve closed yourself off to him. 

“No baby,  nothings….nothings wrong” he says, that convincing tone, smooth like satin. 

“But I’m worried. You’ve never acted like this before, tell me what’s on your mind.” He shuts off the water, and the cylindrical pull seeps a guttural groan. He grips the granite, and even that seems to deform. He finally turns to you, a hurt expression colliding with fiendish somber eyes and taut lips. 

“Am I not good enough for you?”  

“You are more than enough” you hearten. Ajax rebuttals a bitter laugh and spouts the candor he’d been gnawing on. 

“I tried. I tried ignoring your kindness. I tried being pitiful, hurting myself so that your eyes were only on me”, he creeps towards you, and your feet move on their own backpedaling. The echo of his self-inflicted scar produces beads of sweat, distracting so that the back of the wooden chair presses into your back and you almost topple over. Nowhere to go, and now he overshadows you with delicate fingertips slithering across your paling cheeks and behind your jaw, “but you’re surrounded by love. People love you.” 

His words drag and descend further, “Ohh, and it’s not fair at all.” 

“Why are they allowed your attention. It should be me. Only me. Don’t you want me?” Laced with love, but you can’t taste it. His dilated orbs ping-pong as they scan your face for confirmation. You bring your palms over his and muster fading courage in timid waves. 

“I love you Ajax. So, so much. But the way you’re acting scares me. It’s my fault and I could’ve gone home, but I haven’t seen them in a long time. I didn’t think things would end up like this.” He pauses, and engulfs you in an ardent embrace, his hand on the back of your head and another on your lower back. Oh, sweetie muffles through strands of your hair as he sways your bodies. You’re mannequin-like in his stifling sight. 

“Nononono, it’s not your fault honeypot. You’re too pure for this world, so kind without thinking. So perfect” he mumbles, absurd drivel seeping through the coherent parts in formidable notes—how he loves you, needs you, can’t live without you— “but they’re leeches. They try to taint you, show you horrible, disgusting things. That piece of shit was looking at me, he was asking for a fight. And he tried to put you in the middle. You could’ve gotten hurt, or God know what. I’ll protect you, my sweet, at any cost." 

“Ajax, I don’t need your protection.” It’s silent, profound when he retracts. You forget how to breathe or talk as he slides to your shoulders and holds them in place. His voice lowers. 

“You don’t need…me?” 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying-” 

“So let me help, let me be yours” he pleads. You don’t respond—you can’t. Each explanation you formulate sticks to the roof of your mouth and swells like a spell drunk in your throat. Ajax tenses, clinging to your skin. He reflects on a thought, and it blooms with a twinkle. 

“What if I just...lock you up?” 

“...What?” you say, hardly above a whisper. It’s arid to swallow, and shivers ripple under sweltering heat prickling your limbs. 

“I wouldn’t put you anywhere bad. It’d be a pretty place; I’ll take good care of you like I always do. Wouldn’t you like that?” He has a hopeful grin on his face, and when he lets you go for a second you jerk away from his reach. Your back hits the opposite wall, nauseous and lightheaded, shaking your head aggressively to push away the existence of the idea. He wrenches his neck, and you glimpse the deluded flush on his face. “No... I’m not gonna do that.” 

“Ah, sweetheart, I know it sounds scary. Can we try it first?”  

“You’re not gonna put me in some fucking cage like an animal” you assert. His eyebrows furrow, offended at your assumption that he’d trap you somewhere unpleasant. 

“I’d never do that to you. I love you.” He inches towards you, and you inch farther. The keys are in front of him, you can’t leave on your own. The steps you take feel critical. 

“Let’s sleep on it, we can discuss in the morning.” No. No no no no. You pan to the staircase, and Ajax curiously watches your paranoid glances. Before he can grab you, you sprint for the stairs. Wind travels in your ears and settles at your graceless movement catching hold of the banister, leverage used to leap. Adrenaline flows steadily in your veins, and your senses feel muddled to mush, focused on pushing your legs to proceed. There’s no room for thinking past the will of your body. You hear airy tsks coming from the dining room, and a singsong “Don’t make me chase you, baby.” 

Suddenly, the creaking floorboards succeed at a roaring parade marching behind you. Closer and closer, a sound you didn’t know he possessed. You don’t dare turn around; the squeak waltzes with your deafening heartbeat. You change direction, making haste to the peaceful bedroom you share, now eroding under his hearty stomps. You clash with the door, and barge in. Slamming it shut, your shaky hands promptly lock the knob. Ajax stops in front of the door and lets his fingertips dance along the wood, “Open the door, please.” 

The knob shakes aggressively, rattling in the socket and threatening to pop. It’s pulling against the edges of the door that rive at his harsh yanks. He perpetually pulls and twists it, “Darling, c’mon open the door, my sweet.” You’re sure if you don’t, he’ll axe his way through instead.  

“Please let me in, baby. Please, I’m dying without you.” 

“I don’t wanna fight anymore... please”, his tone barely lifts above the depth of wood, but you hear the faulty voice keeling in cracks. You know you shouldn’t open the door, but his sorrow beckons you as it often does. He wails so hopelessly, as if you’re punishing him for an unavoidable inevitable. It’s an innocent sob peerless to the ruthless violence he displayed hours before; the harrowing glare of the man you thought you knew was all too terrifying. But he’d never do that to you, would he? You’re his darling sweetheart, his infinity now and forever. You filled his divergent heart and sutured it anew. He needs you.  

Though your hands fidget to stay at their sides from common sense tucked in a forgone crevice of your headache, you force your hand up, and turn the knob. Maybe you should’ve never let him into the shop on that cold night, instead bidding him farewell and trudging in the snow to your crumby apartment. You’d continue running the shop as usual with Lyney. Things would’ve been different, wouldn’t have been so complicated to cut loose from tangling lies knotting the more he consumed you.  

But no, that couldn’t have happened. He would find you, it’s destiny that you’d never part. Stalking in bushes and narrow alleyways until the perfect moment he could walk towards you and catch your eye again, and you’d fall for another pass of courting words.  

Ajax stands there with sparkling sadness streaming down his cheeks that mingle with his quivering lips. He drops to his knees instantly in prayer and looks up at you with doey puffy eye bags that nearly make you overlook everything, about Zhongli, about the red flags that grow green the more you squint. It’s just you and him, that’s all it had to be. In times like these you reminisce about the sweet boy you cuddled and confided in, and things feel as they were. The messy-haired Ajax you remember pulls your lower half close to him with large hands that latch onto your waist the more you adjust. His face is mushed to merging in your stomach, and he sighs heavily, taking in your scent like the last breath he’ll ever have. They snake around you, and you meet eyes again. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I love you angel. So much I’d rip my heart out and put it in your hands…. you control me” Desperation clings to Ajax, and you urge to console him. You intertwine your fingers through his hair. 

“Ajax, this can’t happen again. Okay?” you caution, a warning dripping with compassion. 

“Mhm. Okay.” Unexpected warmth blooms over his cold aura, but the light doesn’t reach his eyes. His hands travel the contours of your hips and thighs, occasionally squeezing with an appreciative huff. He parts your legs and dips to your inner thighs to mold the doughy fat as his lips traverse your lower abdomen, decorating it with wanton kisses. “Love you so much” he utters. His touch is impassioned and fluid, he softens underneath your bottom and circles his thumb like a masseur. Ajax takes his time navigating your sensitive points, and switches between fluffy and solid pressure that licks down your back.  Skin to skin contact wasn’t enough, he wanted to crawl in your ribcage and live in your lungs so he could sense your steady breaths. He wanted to bask in your existence, feel the radiance of your touch and ethereal voice curl and melt into him, to make him nothing and all in your eyes. 

Your digits tangle in his hair, and when he nips your tummy, you tug his scalp. “Fuck” Ajax groans, strained through his lips. The peachy wash draping his cheeks is cherubic, appeased by the rhythmic kneading. One hand slinks under your shirt and guides a fingertip vertically on your spine, the other sculpts your rear. It’s dizzying how easy it is for Ajax to captivate you, a trance that turns your knees to jelly and leaves you at his mercy. You ignored the impulse igniting your muscles to push him off. You want him closer, suffocating you so deep the clouds of his scent dismantle your fear. You take his chin and redirect his attention, and he waits for order like a loyal dog.  

“Ajax.” 

“Whatever you want, princess” he toys, that boyish simper releasing butterflies through your body. 

“I want you.” He hoists you up without a word and carries you to the bed. He brings you down, a priceless vase above the pillowy cushioned bedding. “You comfortable?” You nod, blushing from the way Ajax gawks at your half-hiked shirt, and shorts hanging low on your hips. “Good.” He’s breathless, restraining his impulse to pounce and devour you. No matter how restive he was, Ajax usually prevented himself from indulging beyond your comfort; but tonight is different. It's starving while a succulent meal taunts you, only satiated by the sight of it. He hastily removes his shirt and pants, freckled muscles flexing as he discards them to the floor. It’s hard to avoid the growing spot staining his stretched white briefs. Spreading your legs, he crawls between them. He regards you for a second, but when you reach behind his head he plunges into a longing kiss.  

A longing kiss followed by hungrier ones. It’s abruptly rough and needy against your bruising lips, some skimming the corner of your mouth and tracking to the main course. He frees you for a breather, but the space doesn’t subdue the dull ache thrumming in your core. His nose brushes against yours, and you pull his flyaways back to get the full scale of his feral demeanor, sweating and reddening in the unshakable heat.  

You collide again, hands behind your head through the wild exchange. You can’t keep up; he bites your bottom lip and relieves it with the glide of his tongue. Your slow and steady lover begs for entry with a ravenous push, and you allow it to ruin you. The wet appendage invades your senses, explores your mouth in nonsensical shapes and withdraws with a filthy sound before returning. “So. Fucking. Good” he exhales through your intertwining tongues. You’re moaning into each other, lasting in the moment, forgetting everything. His hips start to grind against you, practically dry humping your clothed lower half. You wrap your legs around him and steer his twitching length to roll into you, nudging the inseam of your shorts to your neglected clit. He engulfs your moans, and retreats with strings of spit connecting your tumid lips. 

Ajax descends to your neck, and places damp and eager kisses along it. You feel the piercing remnant of a bite accompanied by sucking. His fangs pinch and snag and make you whimper. A budding purple and blue blend blotches to your collarbone--draining you like a vampire. His hands stay busy committing your curves to memory in greedy gropes. Ajax doesn’t notice his low rambling, “yea, you’d never leave me, right? I’m all you need”, to “you're mine.” It’s overstimulating, and so is the hammering pulse in your clit.  

Your abused neck is exposed to the delicious sweep of cold air, and he hurries to your shirt. In one swoop, it comes off with the impatient unclasp of your bra. He submerges a stiff peak in warmth while he works the other. His tongue swirls around the nipple, pushing in with a stiff tip and trading it for sucking. It elicits a moan where teeth graze and tweak the bud. “My pretty girl” he murmurs and delivers attention to the next. Ajax massages your spit-soaked tits firmly and diligently in fondling motions. His passion renders him shameless, and it encourages you to fold. You find yourself swerving your hips to his bulge to goad his thirst. He responds with languid nudging, and glances at the space inside your shorts, coated with slick film from your panties. Whine caught in his throat, he salivates and unconciously holds your legs apart. You impel him downwards, and he nuzzles the line to the hem of your shorts.  

“Can I taste you, princess?” It had to be hypothetical, since he was already unbuttoning them with his teeth and tearing them off. “Please?” he pants, a half-lidded mess itching to immerse in your desire. Before you can answer, a rrrip shreds through the room; the culprit of your mangled underwear remains, and you shriek. “Ajax!” you scold, but he’s not bothered when he rips the rest of it to display your arousal. “I’ll get you new ones, I’ll buy you the whole store” he sighs, forcing your thighs rearwards with his hands. He angles himself like a sniper and submerses in your pussy. 

Ajax doesn’t rush, he lazily trails his tongue around the outside and plays with the folds shlicking against him. He outlines the clit and meticulously weaves his skillful tongue, caring for the spots that make your back arch; paying special attention to your entrance, as he teasingly delves in just enough to coax a moan, then laps a flat tongue over your wetness. Ajax’s  ministrations are torturous, rapturing all while ignoring your release. He parts the labia and plashes the juices covering his chin and glossy lips. Your heart is in your ears, winding and coiling at the flicks of his tongue, his fingertips forging red indents on your thighs. Ajax begins to rock himself into the mattress, a fleeting friction comforting his sore erection. His leisurely grinding matches the pace of his mouth making out with your pussy. Mmmf he groans, and the vibrations oscillate. He gently slurps your lips, gasping for another mouthful and lapping at your clit. Your back levitates, and you tug his scalp. It only earns another growl, and faster swipes over the sensitive bud. 

“O-oh fuck” you moan, watching Ajax lose his composure and rut himself into the bed like an animal. He’s panting with a quiver, whimpering some rendition of your name until he sputters. He jolts from the material emptying his balls and soaking the sheets, but his energy doesn’t deplete—It seems to motivate him as he hoists you to his mouth. Ajax always prioritizes your pleasure, but it’s difficult to stop him once he’s invested. And he isn’t done feasting, sloppily eating you up with little concern for your fluttering senses. He rides out his orgasm and brings you to yours, and you hardly realize the intoxicating slide over your clit spelling his name. Ajax, Ajax, Ajax, marked into you; It brings you to a chant as you come undone. Ajax doesn’t waste a drop, avidly cleaning up the juices pulsating out. “Thank you, fuck, thank you so much” he whispers. He swills the bud, and you spasm and squirm from ecstasy in his iron grip. “Ajax, p-please.” 

“I got you.” He gives one last French kiss before exiting tranquility. A combination of spit and arousal blankets his mouth, and he smiles like the happiest man alive. “You okay?” Not a thought in fruition, tender mellowness smothering you. You wince from the prolonged position, and he immediately puts you on your side.  

“Need to feel you.” He wrings his underwear down, and reveals his pulsing shaft adorned with beads of come dribbling down the rosy pale tip. He’s above you, trapping one leg over his shoulder, and aligns himself with your sex. “Perfect tits, perfect pussy. You’re so beautiful, all for me.” The bulb slips in effortlessly, and he sighs at the muscle clenching around him. Each inch drives seamlessly into you, stretching your unadjusted frame. He lulls on your ankle, absorbed by the coziness enveloping the base until he bottoms out. Then it’s unmoving. Agonizing, even, the way you feel him twitch inside. “Y-you can move now.” 

“Let’s just stay like this for a little.” He rubs your leg, savoring the serene patter of rain smacking the wide windows and toasty light dusting your dazed appearance. It’s intimate and placid minus the rise and fall of your bodies, and you’re surprisingly shy. You rush to cover your face, but Ajax grabs you. “Don't hide, pretty girl. You’re stunning” he flirts, kissing your hand. 

“Do you love me?” His blinks are exaggerated, confused that you’d ask such an obvious question. 

“Of course.” 

“What do you love about us?” He brings your hand to his cheek. “You complete me. You’ve forgiven me, loved me, and accepted me for who I am. I can be open around you.” He kisses your wrist, silken as to quell the trivial thoughts resurfacing. 

“I’ll love you until the end. I’ll find you in the next life and start all over, even when this universe collapses. I won’t let anyone get in our way, so love me forever.” Ajax pulls out to the tip, and you whine at the loss of wholeness. Then, he drives his sticky cock unhurriedly to the hilt. You mewl, and he palms your chest. “Shh, ‘s okay.” The milky translucent trail links you and erupts obscene syrupy noises. “What are you thinking for baby names?” You can’t focus, the swinging strokes graze your g-spot. You’d say anything to him at this point; you need him deeper. He casually thumbs your clit and continues at a sluggish tempo. “I really like the name Aleksei” In and out, veins embellishing your walls. You meet his thrusts and shudder, though he stops occasionally to redirect the sopping length. 

“A-ahn, you’re so wet, it keeps slipping out” he moans. He picks up the speed, squelching stirring with whimpers. “I love you, honeypot. Sosososo fucking much, just wanna breed this pretty pussy every second of the day. Ah- you wanna be a mommy, yeah? We can have a big family, hah, just you me and the kids. Wouldn’t you like that, darling?” He’s drilling into you, stuffed to bursting. You feel yourself approaching and seize his wrist. “’M close!” 

“Give it to me, fuck, please” Ajax whines, and you climax under him, juices saturating his balls. You don’t get time to recover; he fucks you through your orgasm. You’re reeling, clawing at his forearm when he puts you flat on your back. “Wanna come inside. Can I, please? I want it so bad” he pleads. He adjusts you to a mating press with brute force, and plummets inside.  

It’s vicious, staggering plap’s and squelching audible from outside. The headboard bangs on the wall while he pummels your pussy. A sheen of lust shrouds his eyes, and his heavy balls smack against your ass as he wrecks you. More, more, more drowns him in senseless fucking, precome frothing at the base. You convulse around him, and he burrows full throttle. When his tongue finds yours, you interweave through the sloppy pumps. His balls tighten, and he chases his high frenetically bobbing. “O-oh, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.” Harsher, meaner strokes hit you quick, and Ajax melts into endless whimpers striking his climax. Ropes of thick white paint your insides, teeming to globs where they crowd your pussy and leak to your ass. Ajax bucks into you, and you milk him dry. The shakes eventually stop, and he goes limp on top of you. You feel him softening, his steady inhale. He smiles at you, showering you with affection you couldn’t resist.  

“I should use the bathroom” you suggest, patting his back as a signal to get off. “Sure. Wait here, I’ll get you cleaned up.” He returns after an eternity, with cloudy water and a tepid towel. 

“Here, drink this.” You take the cup and sip. Ajax tips it a bit, urging you to gulp. He wipes you down lovingly while you swallow the contents. He disregards your vulva, however, collecting the come on his fingers and pushing it in. Oddly, you’re leaden—insanely leaden, so much so that your head tilts to one side and threatens to give up entirely. Your knees are wobbly, and your bones are lost in a dreamlike state. Ajax passes the towel under your chest.  

“You know, I didn’t feel bad about it, when I strung his guts across the wall. I only thought of you.”  

No. It can’t be true. 

You can’t scream or fight, and simply gape at the words hulking through your numbed rationale. The towel cools your sweat, but the fear persists.  

“I met him behind your complex. He was bitching about rent, sleazy fucking scum. I asked him if you live there, and he went on a rant about it. Saying nasty stuff no one should ever say about you. I couldn't help it, (Y/N), I had to see his organs carved out of his body.” Your jackhammering heart doesn’t compare to your sloth behavior. You want to run, move in with your parents again and pretend; pretend like your life hasn’t been propelled into disarray, pretend that the ginger boy caressing your face didn’t butcher a man.  

“Ajax, let me go” you cried, a teardrop coursing across your temple. He wipes it, “I’m not holding you, dear. You can’t stand on your own right now, but the effect will wear off after you sleep. Rest for now, okay sweetie?” 

“What did you put...in my...” You’re swooning, ferried by the effect of the unknown medicine sprinkled in your cup. With no will to combat, your eyes reluctantly close. His pupils are desolate and obscure, the night of a severe blizzard. 

“I’m sorry, but I won’t make the same mistake twice.” 

tags: @zhochikennugget (if anyone else would like to be tagged, dm and i'll tag you on the next one :)

[petermorwood]

I have a sword question, if I may. Or more of a sword confusion Im seeking clarification on.

In my mind a fantasy european standard sword (that obviously doesnt really exist, but like, when a knight or someone in a story has an unspecified sword), I always imaged a straight blade with a triangular tip, both edges sharp cutting edges.

Then at some point I learned about eg scimitars that have a cutting edge and a ...blunt edge?

I was looking at your recent addition to the post about the Turkish sword, where you distinguish between an inner cutting edge on a sword v an outer cutting edge.

And then Im thinking of those enormous zweihander types that are all about momentum and do those even need a particularly sharp edge? They seem in dnd parlance to be a bludgeoning weapon not for slashing.

And while Im asking, like. Rapiers are very stabby weapons, do they have sharp edges at all or judt a sharp point?

I guess my overall question culminates something like "what parts of swords are designed for what damage and why? Is there anything all swords have other than blade and handle like can they all be used for stabbing or do some have very blunt points etc? Is it a big deal for a sword to be double-edged, does that necessitate specific training? Whats up with different sword blades?"

I realise thats a pretty enormous question that might be unreasonable to ask. Im happy with whstever response you are or arent willing to give. Hope you have a good day :)

Sharp edge / blunt edge is the setup on any kitchen or table knife you've ever encountered, and being able to put a hand on the blunt "edge" - usually called the back of the blade - not only helps when mincing herbs or garlic, but also features in some techniques of swordplay.

Other techniques employed non-blade parts of the weapon, using the pommel like a mace and the crossguard like a pick-axe.

*****

Whether swords should be straight or curved, single- or double-edged, was an argument which continued as recently as the early 1900s.

The last swords issued to cavalry for combat use (modern parade swords don't count) were both remarkably similar designs, straight-bladed for thrusting, adopted by the UK in 1908...

...and the US in 1913.

There was, of course, strong opposition from those who insisted cavalry swords should be sabres curve-bladed for cutting instead.

Equally of course, both sides failed to notice - or ignored, since a certain kind of cavalry officer was only bright as regards boots, buckles and buttons - the uncomfortable fact that machine-guns and repeating rifles had made the whole ta-ran-ta-rah "cut them down with your swords, men!" cavalry charge an exercise in futility.

*****

D&D, unless they've considerably upped their accuracy game, isn't much of a reference for weapon realism.

"Enormous Zweihanders" and other big swords such as the Montante were a lot lighter and more nimble than they'd seem from reading an encumbrance chart.

They had their own techniques to take best advantage of length, leverage and momentum and were indeed sharp. Given a choice between a sharp combat weapon and a blunt one, sharp makes far more sense.

In addition, a sharp blade is lighter than a blunt one simply through having less metal. It may only be a few grams of difference, but it IS a difference.

That's also the reason behind a fuller, the groove(s) along a blade.

They're not "blood gutters", tough and cool though that may sound, but a way to reduce a sword's weight while preventing its blade from getting excessively flexible.

Finally...

The re-enactor is wearing half-armour, but these big swords were also meant for use against unarmoured opponents. Bodyguards often carried them (they looked impressive) and those sweeping strokes could block an entire street while The Boss got away.

That's when an ability to cut rather than merely bludgeon makes all the difference. Determined assassins might try to rush a blunt sword, but a sharp one would give anyone second thoughts...

*****

Double-edged swords versus single-edged ones seem to vary depending on cultural preference - also on period of history and intended function.

Bronze Age European swords had straight or leaf-shaped blades with double edges...

...while Ancient Egypt had the curved, single-edged khopesh, a shape which also turned up in Ancient Assyria (this one's in the Metropolitan Museum, New York USA).

It's listed as a "sickle sword", an incorrect term which I wish would go away because sickles are sharp on the inside of the curve while swords like this - their grip-shape shows how they're meant to be held and swung - are sharp on the outside.

And just when "the Ancient Middle East used curved single-edge swords" looks like a handy generalisation, along come straight swords, one from Ancient Egypt...

...another from Luristan, now part of modern Iran.

This next one comes from Ancient Iberia (Spain), right at the other side of the Mediterranean. Evidence of trading links? Your guess is as good as mine.

Iberia went on to use the falcata, a short single-edged forward-curved sword.

Those extra bits round the blade are scabbard metalwork; the wood and leather scabbard is long gone. This repro shows how they would have looked when in place.

Iberia also used a straight double-edged sword which so impressed the Romans that they adopted it, refined it and used it for several centuries. Here's one of the several Roman versions of that gladius Hispaniensis (Spanish sword), double-edged, mostly meant for stabbing but capable of very effective cuts as well.

Here's my repro of a similar sword, the elegant "Mainz" pattern with its long point and waisted blade. Very pretty, and pretty wicked.

*****

"Curved single-edged swords are Eastern, straight double-edged swords are Western", is another generalisation that won't work.

Here are Eastern straight swords...

...and Western curved ones.

*****

Viking swords were all double-edged...

...except when they weren't.

*****

Many rapiers could cut. Smallswords, which came later, couldn't.

Earlier rapiers with broader blades cut better than later ones with narrow blades, but IIRC even the later Italian and Spanish rapier styles include cuts directed at the opponent's face and sword-arm.

I have a notion that the modern thing about cutting with rapiers is based (like back-carry) on seeing it done in movies. IMO - more about it here - that's actually more a modern stage-combat safety thing than a period real-combat move. A fumbled cut is bruising and unpleasant even with a "safe" prop sword, but a fumbled thrust into the eye-socket or throat with that same "safe" sword can be fatal.

Even those early rapiers wouldn't sever a head or limb - a finger maybe, hence the elaborate hand-protection of swept and cup hilts - but blood from a forehead wound running into the eyes was, and in boxing still is, an efficient way to finish a fight by ensuring the opponent can't continue. One of the duels in "The Duellists" ends this way.

This example is a bit optimistic, IMO...

...but a longsword (double-edged)...

...or a messer (single-edged)...

...was quite capable of disarming an opponent in a very literal way.

*****

Some swords had minimal points, being intended mostly for cutting. One example of this is the Indian khanda broadsword. The second example is also very clearly single-edged.

Another cut-only sword without a point (but with double edges) is the Richtschwert (justice sword)...

...though this was a single-function (and hopefully single-cut) tool rather than weapon, neither balanced for nor intended for combat.

Hope this has helped answer the questions!

[oukabarsburgblr]

I've been wondering- what would happen in the karasuno bullying the first year when they all grow up? Like (m/n) should take my advice and get together with Sousuke instead!! Maybe I'm just a biased Sousuke simp but no way anyone can touch us if we have mafia on our side!! Sousuke being a softie is just a plus point :D I would like be Sousuke's husband frfr ♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠)

If you had continued into the bullying the first years storyline, you would definitely end up as a house husband, maybe finishing foundation in university but that would be the most of it before daichi had stolen you away, locking you up in his apartment, near the police academy and your parents didnt question a thing, knowing daichi who was your supposed boyfriend taking care of you. Oikawa did but he was too busy in Argentina to know more.

Hinata, kageyama, yamaguchi would lose contact with you, that's about it, they just assumed you'd went about your life. Tsukishima had approached you during your third year, asking what the hell happened in first year since he saw what Asahi did to you but you stayed silent, wanting to lose those horrible memories and move on with your life.

The second years, would be similar, losing contact, except Tanaka did try to get in contact with you but was stopped by Daichi, who said you're having a horrible phase in your life currently and Tanaka understandably backed off, asking him to send his regards.

Kiyoko simply didn't want to get involved. She was lucky enough the trio didnt targeted her and she knew she couldnt do much unfortunately. Yachi would have the same case for the other third years.

Sugawara and Asahi couldn't focus on you, since they went on with their own careers but the second they found out you were handcuffed in Daichis bed, Sugawara was laughing giddily, pulling at your cheeks teasingly and he was so excited to see his kouhai. Asahi was surprised you didnt even resist much, giving into your predicament and chatted with Daichi while Sugawara was making you squirm.

Daichi wouldn't let them sleep with you, Sugawara almost took a beating but he and Asahi backed off, both knowing that Daichi was the most passionate for you...but you dreaded the moment they visited Daichi's apartment.

Daichi tried treating everything like it was normal to have your partner handcuffed in bed, and you unwillingly accepted your new life. A husband he forcibly signed your marriage certificate and living with him wasn't so painful.

He still fed you, clothes you and gave you the necessary condiments to living, a phone took a year or two but the only requirement was that you couldn't step out of the apartment. And you lived by it which earned the key to your cuffs, no longer having restrained to the bedroom.

Daichi presumed the position of your lover since then, kissing you and holding you lovingly, his demeanour changed, showing more affection and a smile on his face. Sex was still scary because he would be extremely overpowering and the dynamics were tilted so far, you'd often cry during sex since you'd drop into the submissive mindset so quick.

But all's well...than expected. In a way, maybe you were content with your new life. Not having to worry, about bills or a job, only sitting in your pretty house you got to decorate, waiting for your husband to come home.

Oh man i feel bad for the other anon😭 theres barely any fluff in this universe im so sorry

And i do agree! You should just run away with Sousuke instead ↔️ but if Sousuke existed in this universe, both you and him would be the same age as Daichi and frankly Sousuke would never let you associate with anyone that had a psychopathic behaviour.

Why and how?....thats a story for another time🤗

[nyancrimew]

Confessions!

So anyway, I think I'm aro/ace. But it's a bit complicated. Like I'm sure I'm aro, but with asexuality, it's a bit different

You see, I actually feel sexual desire sometimes and I masturbate, plus I've felt sexual attraction for other people buuut

The moment it's actually time to do the do all the desire disappears and I'm like "I actually don't want to!" And it's not fear or anxiety, it's more like all that lust becomes "meh" when it comes to it

So in theory I'm not Asexual but in practice I'm Asexual and in reality I don't know what's wrong with me lol

I think I might actually be graysexual because I've seen the things people do when they're horny to get some and I wouldn't do any of that, like sex in general is not an important thing in my life and I forget about it most of the time (except when I get horny and that happens like once every week or every two weeks) but I'm not sure

Anyway, opinions? Thoughts? Prayers?

im honestly in a sort of similar boat with regards to sexuality, though the line has become blurrier and blurrier for me as ive become more comfortable w my body, still definitely not allosexual but like less ace most of the time. ive like kinda stopped trying to fully figure it out, its pretty random and things change drastically out of nowhere sometimes, ive just accepted im aspec in some fucked up way

[dangopango00]

DEMONIC FEATURES HCS

Random Om demon hcs + OM Demons x gn reader

Pt. 1 (Lucifer, Mammon, Levi) | Pt. 2 (4567) | Pt. 3 (Royal Trio) Coming soon

CW: suggestive but not much, just “slut” used in regard to clothing and vague suggestion of leviathan with two. 👍

A/N: ive had om since like fuck idk since that first genie event or sth WHATEVER the point is its been a MINUTE and i only JUST watched the anime 😭😭😭 theyre so sweet and silly i cant take witttttt i need to write for them i love them all so muxygehwhwhshshwbwb I swearrr om is one of the only otome where i can gaf about more than 2 or 3 characters

Also u should read them. All; I throw in general hcs too

Lucifer: The Peacock

- I think his wings should have eyes in them like its such a missed opportunity for a reference to his animal counterpart (peacock), a reference to biblical angels and a reference to the fact that he always somehow knows what everyone’s up to and what their ulterior motives are. Ik he has a few on his outfit but it just doesn’t give that otherworldly creature dread feeling you should get when looking at a demon (Not to go on a tangent but when I see a hot demon character I want to be afraid of them but then go “wait why is this hot”)

- Also while he technically has 4 wings, I think that when he flares out his wings they should expand in such a way that makes it appear like he has more

- I imagine his wings stretch out and look bigger whenever he feels proud of and satisfied with himself— esp when he’s around you; its cute tbh but he also does it when hes super pissed; are you gonna take that chance? 🤔

- Imagine if the little diamond on his forehead was a closed eye and every now and again it opens especially when he feels as if his pride is threatened or when he’s generally angry. Personally I think that would be sick af

- I KNOW THE MARKINGS ARE JUST LIKE BIRTHMARKS BUT IMAGINE THEY FEEL DIFFERENT FROM THE NORMAL SKIN like Lucifer’s markings could be feathers covering his jaw and below (see: Howl Pendragon bird form, kinda) and they feel like real feathers too

- I think we all agree that whenever he feels protective of you he’d wrap his wings around you and shield you from anyone’s view but his own

- Keeps a feather on you (probably gives it to you as a gift) so he can keep an eye on you at all times (This is not a pun; imo he can see through the eyes on his wings when he closes his main eyes and opens his third)

- Pact mark spans from the nape of your neck to about 1/3 your spine (pretty big but not humongous) and is in the shape of a peacock feather but when his powers/benefits are used the barbs of the feather move in a way similar to fire and the eye in the center opens (it kinda tickles and/or sends a chill down your spine)

- Pact mark allows him to locate you in pretty much any place without an uber powerful magic barrier or like interference (Which I think would make sense considering he always knows what’s up + he DID say making a pact with him entails you are his and he is yours [since you can summon him wnv I think and command him to do stuff])

- Something he already does but I just noticed lines up with peacocks is tilting his head when he’s sick of everyone’s shit

- OH MY GODDDDD HIS WINGS DRAPE DOWN LIKE PEACOCK TAIL FEATHERS. HE HAS LONG WINGS. LOOK AT THIS AND TELL ME THAT SHIT WOULDN’T BE MAJESTIC AS HELL ON HIM

Mammon: The Corvid

- I think his wings are nicely placed but I would make them curl/angle upwards more to more resemble bird wings (Ik Lucifer is the bird wing guy but hes a bird too 😞😞) kinda like this

- I think that while the bones are exposed on his wings, on the back of the wings there should be patches of feathers showing he lost them in his fall from grace aaaa 😫😫😫

- I know the demons have either wings or tails but like. Entertain this thought: Mammon with cute lil tail feathers 😭😭 mammon with a bird tail would just fit so well im sorry

- He subconsciously lowers/bows his head while talking to people he respects and admires (like you and Lucifer) like laying his head down on his arm or desk or sth

- Collects stuff that looks interesting— stuff he thinks he can probably use or fix up and sell. Pretty much proven but I feel I should emphasize how bad it gets, like he needs to clean his room at least weekly or his room will be full of junk 😭 (he js like me fr)

- Great at impressions; I THINK this was included in the story at one point (?) but idk so I will mention it here. Give him a voice and he can mimic it pretty well (Brothers would def use this to their advantage for silly little schemes if mammon weren’t charging an arm and a leg for his services gn)

- Will engage in anything he finds interesting and stimulating; the reason he sucks ass in school isn’t really because hes dumb but he has a hard time focusing on shit that isnt stimulating (that’s kinda how it is for most people but like especially for him, he indulges heavily into freedom/temptation; usually won’t do anything he doesn’t want to)

- Blinged OUT. More rings, a gold necklace thing (those thick round ones), more ear piercings and i like the drawing someone did with his fangs being gold however ntm as the absence of such things also shows his balance between his heavenly virtue and deadly sin (Charity vs Greed) and how despite his sin he really can be a modest guy

- Markings should cover his face and be little portals that let him summon grabby hands and sometimes he gets you stuff and sends it through the portal on your body (your pact mark)

- Speaking of pact marks, I think his is on your heart or right above and is like a dripping fingerprint that turns into a full blown hand print (maybe even the monkey’s paw?) when his powers/benefits are being used; Its hard to describe the feeling but when his hand goes through it feels like you’re gagged right then and there and its a little bit hard to breathe when you first made the pact because its a little uncomfortable but as you got used to the sensation and nurtured your magic ability, your breathing went back to normal

- I promised myself I wasn’t gonna get into outfits too much because they’re. Um anyway all I’ll say is he should have some slutty bellbottoms in his demon form idgaf

A/N: im so sorry mammon fans for the neglect i didnt know what to really put since crows are just like. Silly feathery black blobs

Leviathan: The Serpent

- He should have poisonous spines on his tail that lie dormant but flare up whenever he feels strong emotion (embarrassment, anger, jealousy etc) and in relation to that he should have a few scales visible on his neck but more should appear leading up his face to his eye when he feels these strong emotions like his skin hardens and turns to scales (almost like how our veins bulge when we humans get very angry) it would be cool af ngl and kinda fits how his voice changes when hes annoyed (I SWEAR it gets all deep and like gravelly ig)

- ALSO i mentioned in another post but his eyes should become super snake-like (pupils slimming down) when he gets angry/envious but adding onto that, his pupils should dilate like a cat when he feels a positive emotion like excitement (though I think his pupils would dilate when looking at you lovingly, if you flustered him his pupils would constrict, not because its negative, but because he doesn’t know how to handle it)

- Grows much taller in his demon form imo since sea serpents are big as hell (he doesn’t become a giant or anything but he does grow like a foot or so which. He might as well be a giant bc hes alr pretty tall) Honestly I think all demons grow in their demon forms but he just grows an exceptional amount compared to any other demon

- Two…. Nvm iykyk fr a certified hood classic and i dont see enough of it in fics 😒

- Often accidentally sticks out his tongue while angry and bites his tongue and it just ruins the mood as well as any fear anyone had of him bye. Hes so goofy i just love him

- Long ahh tongue; snake reminiscent

- The back of his slut zip jacket should be vaguely shaped like fins + would it be wrong to say he should have slutty bellbottoms too? Can’t I dream? 💭 not as wide as Mammon’s though he’s not doing it like him fr

- Wraps his tail around you as if trying to shield you from public view with his spines whenever he gets jealous or protective

- I think it would be cool if the design on his jacket was a fishbone or if his tail was a bit translucent and showed bones inside (Ik tails don’t have bones generally but bear with me here) as a reference to how the Leviathan became a meal after being defeated

- Subconsciously moves slowly and methodically like the way he leans his head in slowly as you talk is very snake of him

- Big yawn (can open his mouth really wide)

- Pact mark is on the side of your neck, a bit closer to the front though and is shaped like a scale initially but grows into a very large patch of black scales with a purple underside, covering everything in the area almost like a bad rash when you use his powers/benefits

- Activation feels as if you’re being suffocated slowly, like water is slowly entering your lungs as the “rash” spreads at first but, again, as you get used to it this sensation wears off but a feeling that won’t ever wear off when activating the pact mark is the feeling that Levi is there looming by your side through the mark but just out of view whenever you try to see him; it’s a little maddening

- Can find you with sth similar to echolocation and it’s especially effective in water; can also spread the scales further with enough willpower and/or jealousy, basically creating a shield for your body

[fairuzfan]

I’m a genocide historian and I do think comparisons between the Holocaust and the genocide in Palestine are unproductive because A) the Holocaust is pretty distinct from Palestinian genocide not in its exceptionalism but in its method - the “shipping” of victims from 20+ countries by international rail to a handful of centralized killing sites; 15000 people being gassed in Auschwitz daily (a single gas chamber had standing capacity for 2,000 people) and their stolen hair sold in bales for use as maritime rope and cushion stuffing - and forcing Holocaust parallels obfuscates the terrible and very unique methods of genocide being used by Israel against Palestinians. B) People often invoke the Holocaust as an emotional appeal regarding the moral culpability of all Jews (“how could you do what was done to your ancestors!”) when the same responsibility to end the genocide in Palestine exists regardless of one’s background or religion.

What Israel is doing in Palestine is 100% a genocide. Whether or not it is similar to the Holocaust (or any previous atrocity) does not make this any more or less true.

The thing that doesn't make sense to me with this point is that no one is saying that the Holocaust and Palestinian genocide are a 1:1 comparison. Like most people acknowledge the terrible genocide that occurred in the Holocaust against all its victims. But when they're talking about comparing genocides, there are tell tale signs that repeat throughout history that are precursers to larger events. Like when people compare the Warsaw ghetto to Gaza. I'd say those are quite similar in practice and intention. When we "compare" genocides (not a 1:1 but more of a drawing parellels by disecting the inteion and reasoning behind certain events that werent necessarily actively violent but passively violent) its to show "hey this is going to get really bad really soon because something like this happened before." Masha Gessen has an article about this that I reblogged.

People should care about fighting injustice everywhere I agree. But that doesn't change the fact that parallel drawing is an act separate from emotional invocation. When genocide scholars and survivors talk about "Hey this was like xyz that happened to me/in history" it's to show that there is precedent for this thinking and a terrible methodology happening when genocides occur. They dont just get really bad out of nowhere, you need to examine the precursors to prevent the large event from happening. How that large event happens differs from place to place, I agree. But to say that because things happen differently against different people means you can't examine the underlying reasons behind those actions is kind of reductive. By this definition you can never compare any genocide ever and all the terrible things that happen just happen naturally without any political or social influence.

Arnesa talks about how the Bosnian genocide precursors mirror the Palestinian genocide. She also talks about how Lula specifically should have mentioned other genocides (like Rwanda, Bosnia, etc) in his statement because there are parallels there too. I'd argue that's the real intention behind genocide studies, in that you notice trends and patterns to analyze how certain events might turn out.

I do want to mention because this is where im coming from a little bit, it is a pretty big zionist talking point (by especially American dems) saying you can't compare the holocaust to what's happening to Palestinians because it's antisemitic, which is not a real talking point and actually kind of rude in that it assumes that Palestinians can't call out parallels between their treatment and the treatment of those in the Holocaust because they're fundamentally doing it from a point of antisemitism and not a plea for recognition that the events are mirroring each other.

[sakumz]

[ n. gen x fem reader ]

____________________________________________

" vice captain l/n is so cool! " narumi couldn't help the vein popping in from hearing such comments. the poor civilian just wanted to comment on their favourite leader and narumi can't enjoy a simple meal outside without hearing all the compliments on your latest victory.

so what if you've killed a huge kaiju? he had killed plenty more. you're a newly appointed vice captain in the sixth division. he had never met you face to face but if he did, he might beat you into a pulp to assert dominance... of course he wouldn't do that.

lost in his thoughts, shinomiya had to slap him.

" what!? can't a man enjoy his meal! " he held his cheek as he glared daggers her.

" we got to get back to headquarters now! vice captain l/n is here! " shinomiya shouts as the man can't feel bothered to go.

" and why should I go? it's my day off, tell them to go home. " he turned to look out the window.

" she's here to temporarily replace vice captain hasegawa since he's in another base, let's go meet her now! what kind of example are you setting if you're not going to greet her. " she pulls his arm as he doesn't budge.

contemplating before agreeing, hasegawa would kill him if he doesn't greet you properly after all the nation regards you as a flower more like a rose, too pretty and one with deadly thorns.

upon arriving at the building, you sat in the dining table alone. with a cup and a notebook placed on the table and your hands aggressively tapping away from your phone.

you placed your phone down and then slammed your hands on the table. the action caused narumi and shinomiya to jolt.

" h-h-hi vice captain l/n, welcome to the first division. " shinomiya greets you as she tapped narumi, hoping he'll say something.

" hello- " you were cut short.

" you play that game too?! " he shouts, noticing the similar game and the lose written over. how embarrassing for you.

" that game sucks, the gameplay and gacha are both definitely rigged! the maximum level your characters can get to is level 90 but the enemies go up to 100 with a ton of hp. " you ranted out as a smirk tugs upon his lips.

" skill issue much? " he says with a triumph smirk plastered on his face as he leans down to your seated self.

" HUH!?! " you slam a hand as you got up.

" why don't you try it? " you hand him your phone as he quickly takes a sit on your seat. you and shinomiya by his side as you watch him play.

" if you lose, you should buy me the limited figure of [character] , " you bet as narumi stared at you.

" and if I win, you should give me a big ol kiss on the lips. " he bets as he points to you, leaving you and shinomiya stunned.

" ew gross, im leaving. see you around vice captain l/n, " she bids farewell as you say your goodbyes. looking back at your phone and the wonders of narumis hands.

narumi wants to win so bad, you're so pretty. you can't be single well even if you had a boyfriend he'd rather make your love life hell.

" see? skill issue, " he says as he stands up and hands you, your phone. the victory staring back at you, he won.

" you! color me impressed, " you say as he grabs your chin.

" now for my reward, " he leans down as you quickly shut your eyes. no way is this gremlin stealing your first kiss.

after a minute or two, he didn't kiss you. you open your eyes to see him staring back at you. he's trying not to laugh as you flushed red in embarrassment.

" hey, were you really expecting a kiss from a man you just met? " he teased as you looked down.

" just admit it, you're a wuss! I bet you've never dated before, " you grab his hand that's holding your chin.

" so what if I've never dated? I bet you haven't too. seeing you get all worked up over a kiss, adorable. " you flushed harder if possible, tears threatening to spill. he's making fun of you.

" shut up- " he pats you, catching you off guard.

" I'm sorry, I'm not that mean. ya know? " he jokes as he starts to ruffle your hair.

" stop that! " you pushed his hand away, he laughs at your antics. maybe you weren't so bad after all.

" hey if you wanted to kiss me so bad, why not just hit a few dates with me? you wouldn't want your first kiss to be that miserable, right? nation's little rose. " you can't help but blush over the title.

" yeah sure whatever, just admit you fell head over heels for me too. " this time you've rendered the man speechless.

when news got around on how you and narumi started dating, let's say the hoshina brothers won't stop teasing both of you. the nation fell in love with your relationship too, having tag narumi in all your kaiju fighting clips or even interviews well as long as you're in the media.

---

um idk how to end lol

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Sloppy Arackniss Redesign (?)

Before I get into this, clarifying, I SAY SLURS IN THIS!!! I CAN RECLAIM SAID SLURS!!! That is all thank you. I kiss boys and love men. Carry on.

Arackniss’s design is bound to change drastically sometime eventually but atm this is just what im doing. My main problem is how he just looks exactly like angel but black. I know thats originally what the whole thing is and they’re opposites but it’s just kinda boring now. Angel is an entirely different character at this point now and Arackniss’s design should accommodate the changes while still being a bit similar looking. I want him to still look very similar to Angel in specific ways like that stupidass headshape but not because of a sibling thing. Honestly when the two were alive they hardly looked anything alike I’m 100% sure of that. Antonio (Arackniss) had black hair and much broader features and was relatively tall and kind of bulky while Anthony & Molly had light blonde hair and more subtle and soft round features and basically one of the only ways to tell them apart aside from personality was Anthony having polycoria and having bloodshot eyes pretty often.

Arackniss hardly looks how he did when he was alive anymore and has taken on many more features of Angel because of his deep rooted rivalry with his brother. I assume hating your middle-child brother that literally got named after you only to have him overdose and kill himself before actually doing anything with his life is enough to stir up more than a little bit of inner turmoil. These guys probably beat each other up OFTEN. Antonio was the first born son and dealt with so much shit before these other guys even were born and when they did show up, Anthony was named after him because their parents honestly just got lazy, and even though Molly didn’t have the name Molly yet, she was still treated like a golden child even though she contributed next to nothing to the family business which yeah that helped her in the long run but to Antonio that’s his number one priority in life. Appeasing his family is what keeps his brain running. And with that, seeing this random kid show up, get named after you, and be treated so much more leniently than you were AND he’s practically your problem because youre 15 hes like fucking 3 years old and your parents are busy all of the goddamn time AND when you DIE you take on the traits of this stupid fucking kid. He has a horrid case of eldest child syndrome and probably some insane identity issues.

This isn’t to say his hatred is only directed at Anthony either, he definitely has his issues with Molly as well, but she kept more to herself and even if she followed Anthony nonstop she was copying what Anthony was doing instead of what he was doing. Copying is the highest form of flattery but flattery gets annoying when everyone cares about the younger “better behaved” version of you. This is one of the biggest reasons Arackniss berates Angel now and in the past. Even though they havent spoken in years, Arackniss still holds Angel to the status of “faggot” because that was practically the only thing he was “worse” than him at. It was the biggest dirt he had on Angel possible to the point that became a genuine used name for him as Anthony “the fag” Benetti. Finding out your angel of a brother is gay during a time where it’s heavily frowned upon, especially by your own family is like a gold mine.

Arackniss is NOT a good person if you couldn’t somehow tell already. He’s homophobic, has a masculinity and classism problem, has little to no regard for other’s well being, and a bunch of other shit. For as distressed as he was over Anthony’s death, a lot of it was because it left their family even more dysfunctional. To him it was Anthony abandoning everyone because they weren’t worth enough to keep him going and then in return he continues to be praised and talked about so wonderfully as if he never did anything wrong “just because he’s dead”.

Thats just BEFORE Arackniss died too! AFTER dying shit got even worse to the extent he ended up even getting disowned! How fun!! This part delves more into Husk and his backstory as well which I think I may save for another time, but these guys know each other and have a lot of beef and also simultaneously are kind of chill in an odd way? By the way, Angel also has the big neck puff, he just shaves it because he doesn’t like the look and like association from trauma

[songjay-ay]

Yk i saw one of your posts a while ago that was like "theres a clear difference between jay fans and kai/cole ones" or Something like that and im kinds curious what u meant

U asked this so long ago but I forgot to respond better late than never tho🥲

It was about Kai and Jay fans (Cole fans are kind of in the middle of the spectrum)

Lots of Kai fans are super adamant about their fav being unproblematic from what I’ve seen. They don't like when you call him selfish, like they think he could never do anything wrong. But he has good AND bad traits. He is self centered and immature and I love that about him, he's so bland without his anger and his desire to be the best. I'd just like to see more people acknowledge this part of him, rather than focusing only on how caring he is or how protective he is. Nothing about that is interesting to me without his unhealthy traits that balance him out.

Jay fans are the complete opposite (at least the fans that don't prefer later seasons Jay, but that's an entirely different topic that I also have way too many thoughts about). They're pretty loud & proud about Jay's flaws. A lot of Jay fans (including me) are upset that wildbrain era took away his most prominent issues. His arrogance and selfishness are his appeal, and tbh I think a big part of Jay fans' enjoyment of his worst traits comes from the fact that they were taken away from him. We miss the bitchy, morally questionable Jay, back when he was actually a unique and complicated character. We want him to be who he used to be; the witty, sarcastic, and pessimistic guy that we miss so gosh dang much.

Not that it doesn't go both ways buuuut this is just what I've noticed. Actually Kai and Jay as characters are fairly similar in my opinion, regarding their flaws. It's weird how differently the fandom treats them. But I could go on and on and on so I have to force myself to stop it here😭😭 moral of the story, Kai fans highlight his positive traits, while Jay fans highlight his negative.

But also anyone can see them however they'd like and I'm not tryna force anyone to view the characters only how I view them. Idgaf really but it's just an observation

5 page essay dropping soon guys

[trashworldblog]

Welp folks, looks like we're in for a hell of a season of puppet history!

*Let's crack in*

the set is gorgeous this season. i always have loved the puppet history set and how it evolves season after season. the mismatched chairs are beautiful. i love the lion and beaver and little dinos. and eagle eyed viewers may notice the brick wall came from the old pod watcher set, and watcher tv folks might have noticed the scuba lamp fella is the light they made on weird wonderful world (thanks to @toomanywatchers for pointing that one out to me!) also the new theater!! its gorgeous!! the stars light up!!! its so pretty!! incredible craftsmanship!

now why is ryan holding a ... hose (?) ready to fight someone? maybe to melt a wicked witch of the west? kill a genie? kick some hologram ass again — water is good in a fight against electronics [unless the substitute is a pokemon] — either way its a little too soon to tell but i love to throw shit at the wall and see if it will stick like molasses so maybe he's fighting dorthy ruth's shady second husband.

PS aka Puppet Safety: what seems to be a shady organization that is responsible for or is dealing with the puppets in pergatory. im assuming they arent going to be great based on the poster that i will struggle to read later, but either way, their role next season is to deal with the mess of all those dead NOT DEAD puppets in hell Wondrium Arena PERGATORY. Theyre like OSHA. but puppets.

okay now i cant read all of that but what i can make out shivers my timbers. its obvious that shit is gonna go a little crazy if theres a department. but after carefully unravelling whats in this, you guys might go nuts.

after taking it into photoshop to try to enhance it, i got this. still pretty incomprehensible, especially on the right side. but im autistic and also a bitch so i wont take no for an answer. so i zoomed in and squinted and started reading anyways. and this is what i got.

The department of puppet safety (the department) hereby unequivocally disragards any and all responsibility, liability, or .....

to the words statements, or [representations?] made on the poster....

the phrase 'everything will be [fine?]' (... referred to as 'The Substitute') The Substitute is .....

and a not to be.... or a [tactical? factual?]

it is typically noted and dictated that contrary to the ..... of the [Substitute?]

the [Poster?] ('The [Reader? Riddler? Reactor?]') is herby informed that they are....

included but not limited to an immediate and painful vaporation....

shredded by a thousand lazers that simultaneously rips your.....

the aforementioned vaporation process is depicted to appear in the [readers?]....

'pergatory' However, The department makes no....

pergatory and any assumptions by the [Reader?] regarding....

evidence. In short, pergatory may or may exist and the Department cannot be held responsible for any...

uncertainty.

By choosing to meet or otherwise engage with the Substitute the [Reader?] acknowledges and accepts....

consequences that may arise, including but not limited to their imminent vaporation, the insuing agony...

or similar unknown [means? realms?]. The [Reader] further acknowledges that they are inherently....

adverse outcomes stemming from.... The [Reader] ... responsibility and not that of The Department.

The Department futher .... any duty of care ... duty or any other obligation to protect safeguard..... of the

[Reader]. The [Reader] is advised to

have any doubts or concerns regarding the potential ramifications.

In the event that any portion of the disclaimer a ......

..... [??? which shall remain in Lil bitch and effect. ????]

By continuing to meet, ..., or otherwise engage with the Substitute the [Reader].....

and ...... and acknowledges that they have been sufficiently...

Summary: The Department of Puppet Safety takes no responsibility for the consequences of ..... the [Substitute?]

[vaporization?] and..... [afterlife?]

the brackets are for the text mush i couldnt quite make out but could make out with context clues or letters.

Disclaimer: This is a poster from The Department. The Department is trying to cover up that pergatory even exists, so accusations and information from this poster should be taken with a grain of salt.

the substitute is gonna be a player next season! yay!!

I spent a long time trying to decipher what the "Reader" actually says but the image was too compressed to make anything out besides possibly a captial R, and the first time i read it I read it as reader, so we'll go with that for now. Now, who is this mysterious reader? why is he in contact with the Substitute? I believe this reader is the mystery puppet we saw in this tease from shane a few weeks ago.

we see the reader be buddy buddy with the professor. maybe they're friends from long ago, maybe they're family, maybe they've just met. either way, he plays the key role in helping or hurting the puppets that are trapped in pergatory.

Now, is he working with the Substitute? did he just meet with them? it seems that simply contacting the substitute could lead to vaporation, and if the reader wants to help free the trapped puppets from pergatory, the substitute would be the only other puppet (besides literal god and satan) that would have any information. So the Reader could be a good guy just looking to help out and looking for information.

or he is working with the Substitute by getting buddy buddy with the professor. He learns about dorthy ruth and how she is on a mission to get her stanly melvin back from pergatory. so he, as an evil scientist that may have created the substitute, slips her a horse brain pill so that she forgets everything, even her own name, as the song above suggests.

I do find it interesting how all of my information about the reader is coming from The Department, who is basically just using the reader as a scapegoat. if the department is supposed to keep puppets safe, why are they covering this up? why are they using vaporization death penalties? what is really going on here? why is my silly puppet show slowly turning into a massive lore dump with an overbearing government that is pumping out propaganda and using scapegoats? why am i having so much fun with it and so excited to start a puppet revolution? free your felt hands from your chains!

The more I dig, all im left with is more questions. I can not wait to see what is in store for us. This has been the most fun I've ever had digging for lore. I can't wait for this season !!!! It's going to be so insane and fun.

[psiirockin]

I absolutely adore how you make the human characters resemble their animatronics its so fun to notice and point out. like how liz has those big pigtails and the skirt also her shoes and charlie has stripes on her shirt which idk if that was intentionally connected to puppet butit reminded me of her. and cassidy has the buns in her hair that look like bear ears oughgh they r so cute i love them. I also love love LOVE ur ennard and molten freddy designs!! they look a lot more like freaky bundles of wires (especially molten freddy!!! i am obsessed with the centipede vibes :3) and your art in general is so nice to look at!!! its so pretty!!!

and also im curious if there was any other animal imagery that you added to the mci kids the way you did with the aftons and their bunny faces?

OH WOW you hit everything spot on!! I'm so happy that the little details came through, I was really hoping it would all translate hehe!!

The stripes are intentional! Her sleeves are also long and thick at the bottom like Marionette's arms! I also tried to theme her clothes with some Puppet colors: the purple/black/white/red combos!

And I still need to finish my MCI lineup drawing (so take this old WIP from my other drawing of them for reference RN LOL..), but Gabriel has Freddy's colors + the freckles on his face! Jeremy has big bunny teeth, and Bonnie's colors too. (Mix of blue/purples).

I'd like to think that the top of Susie's dress resembles Chica's bib a bit! Though it initially was not intentionally at all haha.

Fritz has physical disabilities, mainly regarding walking-- and one of his hands crunches up a lot. So I guess you could see that reflected in Foxy having his own physical issues. (And Foxy's hook!) So while it's not much of a little design detail in the way the others are there's still a parallel. (I might have given him a few crooked teeth though, to make them jagged like Foxy's?)

Fritz in particular also comes from a very bad household + is on the chunkier side! He's shy, and a little more emotionally distant. Which y'know, has its similarities with Michael, who is THE Foxy bro haha. I think that Michael would have been really affected by his death, maybe he saw himself in Fritz & wanted better for him. And that's why he uses Fritz' name in FNAF 2's location; in honor of him.

[juricore]

Do you have a recommendation list? I have finished watching utena but I want More now

im currently bouncing around in classic shoujo circles so most of my recs will flow that way but there are certainly modern works that are utenesque as well.........either way. shoujo is so multifaceted that im recommending things based on vibes/themes instead of plot but well here's what i got

Oniisama E: my no. 1 rec if you just want More Utena. RGU borrowed a ton from this series and (be warned) it has a trigger list just as long. and also it will make you crazy. it will fr make you crazy. but it is a true yuri written in the 70s so expect the pitfalls that comes with the territory

Madoka (PMMM): the other deconstruction of the magical girl trope show. weird that it's more well known than rgu at this point so you may have already seen it but to me it's like utena if you dont have the attention span to watch 40 episodes

Rose of Versailles: one of the first well known "girl prince" stories. honestly not very utena in plot but very fun to watch cause you can see it's influences bleed into literally every well regarded anime that came after it. including rgu. quickly became one of my fave shows ever.

Princess Tutu: based on swan lake, that same sickly fairy tale vibe, can we escape our fate etc etc etc. not as dark as you might expect but still pretty dark for what was ostensibly a kid's show. it's mentioned in conjunction w/ rgu a LOT

Similar anime that are on my list but that I haven't gotten around to watching: Mawaru Peguindrum (another Ikuhara work) and Ribon no Kishi (according to some: the ORIGINAL girl prince). Also (forgive me) EVA.

pls add recs in the notes if you have them :)

[miokki]

✦ WHEN YOU STUMBLE ON THEM SLEEPING

✰ synopsis: sumeru boys and their sleepy antics

✰ pairing(s): alhaitham, cyno, kaveh and tighnari x gn!reader (all seperate)

✰ content warnings: just fluff

✰ note: i actually wrote this in feb around alhaitham’s birthday so im trying to get my scraps out. also fyi i read @/mrpenguinpants’s green slumber recently is similar.

❈ ALHAITHAM

you had just gone over the summary for your newest assignment with alhaitham, who was dear enough to sit down in the house of daena and go over it with you. the assignment itself wasn’t particularly challenging, yet it didn't align with your interest in study. that was the main reason you asked your boyfriend to assist in your studies. yet from when you'd started your explanation to the time it took you to lift your head from the pages in your lap, you found your boyfriend slumped in his chair, as soft snores left his mouth.

you’re pretty confident in thinking that your voice wasn’t that boring, well, at least not to the greatness of making the acting grand sage alhaitham fall asleep. it was either that or the shiny new title had taken its toll on alhaitham much harder than you had anticipated. but being sure of alhaitham’s abilities, you'd doubt that your boyfriend wouldn’t let something like that beat him so easily. however, rather than dwelling on it, you put the pile of papers back down onto the table you were sitting on before settling back onto the table.

with alhaitham, defenceless under your regard, you decide to use every moment to further soak his features into your brain. his arms laying on both armrests as his head leaned off to the left. shamelessly watching from above as he bathed in the afternoon sunlight, which only seemed to enhance his glowing complexion. even after the longest time, you are still awestruck at how gorgeous and lovely he is. however, you were only able to truly appreciate this after he let go of his tight guard.

but still, there isn’t a single day you don’t remind yourself of it, not that you have to. it feels like you can’t pull your eyes away, stuck in a trance with him as your man focal point. that was, until you realise you've blown your horribly disguised cover for how sickeningly infatuated you are with him. alhaitham, now staring at you with both a surprised and an embarrassed expression on his face, his ears starting to redden before his eyes close again.

pulling yourself out of your daze, you slowly bring your hand to his cheek, softly caressing it. his skin soft as you feel your lover lean into your touch. dragging your thumb across his face as you watch his eyelashes fluttering, his eyes still shut. you notice a small smile sprawled across his lips, the upwards tug on alhaitham’s lips becoming apparent.

“i know you’re awake, pretty boy,” you tease, using your fingertips to gently move his hair covering his eyes.

alhaitham chuckles as he opens his eyes, crimson red and green, gazing into you. you look at him as he places his hand on top of yours, caging your hand on his face. the action feeling both needy and almost desperate. your boyfriend laughing inwardly before looking you in the eyes.

“let me indulge for a bit longer, just this once, habibti.”

❈ CYNO

the title ‘general mahamatra’ is a hefty title to uphold, many become overwhelmed by the responsibility, therefore, avoiding the title as a goal. yet cyno maintains it, and he does it well. so much so that it occasionally stresses you that your boyfriend doesn’t rest enough and might become overworked. albeit, a habit to visit him while he's working just to make sure he's okay. so when you come across him fast asleep in his office, you can’t help but sigh in relief, glad he’s resting up for once. sumeru’s general mahamatra deserves to slack off every once and a while, no? this is deeming that he does a vast majority of sumeru’s upkeeping.

quickly and quietly, you slip through the small gap between the wall and the door, the door slightly squeaking as it brushes against your chest before you get through. you sigh once you're inside and swiftly shut the door to cyno's office. observing your, your view the few nicely potted plants and the tall bookshelves in the back with hundreds of untouched books. and the centrepiece to complete; cyno’s desk, with him, slouched in his chair, arms crossed and his hat still on.

you don’t understand why the akademiya even bothered giving him an office. cyno is supposed outside for almost all of the day, the exception being when he comes back to report things that have happened throughout his duties. he enjoys being outdoors and in action. him, being inside the office defeats the purpose of being a matra. although it is a good place to cool down when the time is presented.

speaking of which, you’re feeling a bit brave today, enough so that you’ve chosen to approach the unconscious general. your body shifting around objects until you're behind his desk, standing beside his figure. keeping a close eye on him in case of any sign of consciousness.

unsurprisingly and one would debate, fortunately(me), you got distracted, your boyfriend being the distractant. spacing out, your only focus was cyno’s sleeping figure whose body moved up and down as he breathed. his lightly tanned skin putting you in a trance, remembering how you reminded him to moisturise for the thousandth time. and his sweet, sweet-toned abs that others swoon over while you are fortuitous enough to rest your head on every night whenever you two are home together relaxing.

it was only after a good five minutes of just marvelling at his abs do you decide to do the next big thing. take off his hat. the hat which was ever so kindly shadowing his facial features. slowly reaching out with your hand, grasping the thing in your hand before gently lifting off your boyfriend's hat.

“boo.”

cyno blatantly said, his monotone voice echoing off the patterned walls as well as your scream. his hat was surprisingly nowhere to be seen as it bounced onto the ground.

“archons, i think i died for a second. baby, that wasn’t funny,” you exclaimed.

“it was pretty funny,” he smiled, biting back a laugh.

“was not,” you mumbled, his arms welcoming you as you fell into his touch.

❈ KAVEH

you were just returning from work, the sun already setting as you arrived at your doorstep. today had been particularly tiring. while there was no problem at hand, your energy levels seemed unusually low. the only thing motivating you to finish well was your desire to go home, have a nice dinner and snuggle in bed with your boyfriend, kaveh, who often stays the night even if he didn’t get locked out of his shared home. even so, you found the man knocking at your door almost every two days, his keys suspiciously disappearing every time.

as this occurrence became a near routine, you decided to give kaveh the spare set of keys to your place. hoping that he would let himself in when you would work late and generally when you weren't available. although, when you first proposed the idea he was far from with it, saying he'll lose the keys like he does his own. it’s only when you dropped it in his hand, closed it up and held it promising to him that you wanted him to have it did he hesitantly agree.

and it's true, you do trust him, you've trusted him more than you ever have with someone. you trust him with the key to your home, not only because you love him but because your boyfriend has a kind heart. the kindest you've come to know and you couldn't dream of kaveh doing something to break your faith in him. besides, the interior of your home has never looked better, and it still feels like home despite the altercations.(fr)

speaking of which, you let out a loud sigh as you shut the front door behind you. kicking off your shoes as you announce your presence. however, you get no response. placing your things down, yelling out your lover's name this time, quietly listening for any signs of kaveh being here. but again nothing, making you think that you've been talking to the house the entire time instead of a person.

still not convinced, you search through all the rooms of your house until you catch a glimpse of blonde hair through the gap between the bedroom door. your eyes lighting up as you quickly walk closer, pushing the door open and walking in to see him sleeping sprawled out on top of the bedsheets. his back facing you as soft breathing filled your ears.

you've come to feel relieved whenever you see kaveh, his presence alone is enough to make your body relax naturally. your body unconsciously moves closer to him when he's nearby. you sigh as you sit beside his figure, the mattress sinking under your weight and the sheets rustling as your hands explore, eventually reaching his exposed back.

since the start of the relationship, you've gained a habit of running your hands across kaveh's skin, tracing shapes and letters into it. constantly drawing random words and shapes into any body part of his you had access to, obviously, if he let you. occasionally peppering kissing on the area as you doodle to your heart's content. as for this instance, your eye caught sight of his open back seeing as the perfect opportunity to trace the shoulder blade and draw little basic shapes.

kaveh secretly loves it. he loves that you make him feel special with your undivided attention solely on him, a smile appearing on his lips as he's under your gaze. he loves the drag of your fingertips against his skin, the warm touch calming him down. kaveh loves you as you draw stars into his sensitive skin, unbeknownst to the fact that he's awake as you whispering "i love you"s under your breath, loving that you secretly pine over him too.

❈ TIGHNARI

tighnari had been particularly worried about a certain deadline he had to meet. while he often does lectures at the akademiya, this specific class he’s been taking lectures for, hasn't been absorbing the lecture’s content as well as anticipated. thus, his need to edit the coursework in a way the amurta students would both understand and fascinate them.

although, you wouldn't imagine your boyfriend being so concerned. perhaps it's due to the lack of idea of how to teach or that the new method mightn't work either, yet he can’t seem to let it rest. sure, it is normal for professors to worry a healthy amount about their students’ studies yet he almost seems obsessed with it. it's the only thing that has come out of his mouth all week.

even as you two are doing reports of the forest’s impending health, he avoids talking about anything but the upcoming lecture. oh? you’re trying to fill out some unfinished paperwork—tighnari is talking his head off about the plans he has. even when you finally think that you'll be free of his chattering the man still manages to mention it when the two of you are lying in bed.

while you do enjoy listening to your boyfriend’s most obscure ramblings you'd very rarely hold him against it's becoming more than something he's interested in. observing it now, it's now borderline obsessive. so much so that you've decided to put some distance between the two of you for now, opting to take another forest ranger’s patrol of the forest. this was in hopes that it would help you clear your mind and start a new leaf before speaking to your lover again.

taking a deep, much-needed deep breath fills your lungs, letting your cheeks puff up before exhaling slowly. you shake your hands at your sides which seemed to be a nervous habit, and then push aside the leafy doors, calling out his name to announce your presence. however, to your surprise, you soon find him sound asleep, using a stack of papers as a pillow.

you gazed at him as his dark, silky locks of hair shined in the sun, his unreasonably, pale porcelain skin giving him a natural glow. the sight stopping you in your tracks for a few minutes just to admire his utterly cute face. yet the position tighnari was sitting in and the way your boyfriend was leaning over the desk seemed far from beneficial to both his posture and neck.

“nari, my love.” you hummed as you walked to his side.

you could only watch as your lover’s fluffy ears twitched in your direction due to the sweetness in your tone. yet you only hear a grumble and some squirming in his seat from the man.

“come on, hun.” you whisper as your left hand travels to his shoulder, your thumb rubbing back and forth into his skin.

tighnari lifts his head this time, his eyes barely open, hair sticking to his face and forehead only to see you looking with your gentle gaze he can never say no to.

“what time is it?” the man asks, rubbing his eyes and looking around.

your partner’s ears perk up when you giggle, smiling as he listens to your angelic voice, the sound always hitting his ears in the best way imaginable. his eyes lighting up and sparkling as soon as sees you smile.

“its afternoon now.” you reply, feeling him nuzzle into your touch when you run your free hand through his hair.

“why did you leave me for so long?”

“oh you know why.”

do not copy or repost any of my works.

@ miokki 2023

[lexithwrites]

sorry for the long read but this is important (aka lets talk about plagiarism)

hello! so, if anyone remembers the other day i posted a lil snippet for a smutshot involving remus/sirius/james. originally, someone got very upset about the lack of tags and accused me of writing SA—it was not SA, it was teasing someone and edging them, but i digress. people misread things all the time and thats whatever—and they privately messaged me accusing the same thing and saying i needed to tag better as i had triggered them. i deleted the post not wanting to upset anyone else, apologised for upsetting them then whilst trying to explain my work and explain how it wasnt SA, they blocked me. that's fair and i moved on learning my lesson as i clearly did something wrong.

what isn't fair, is rewriting said work for yourself and posting it on YOUR ao3 account.

i was sent the story and commented:

you deleted this post almost immediately and proceeded to say it isn't plagiarism. this is the definition of plagiarism btw:

that's what you did. it's the exact same scenario, it's a threesome, and the dialogue is VERY similar. the premise for the scene is the same. I've got some screenshots of both works below to highlight this:

MINE:

THEIRS:

now this isn't word for word, obviously, and theirs is a longer one shot with other plot points involved, but these scenes are similar. the dialogue in particular is similar. its a slap in the face honestly; to be given shit by someone and then see that they decided to use it for themselves.

there is always consent in my work, i've never had anyone say before that this is an issue as my finished works have discussions of safe words and safe sex and boundaries. pretty much everything i've ever written that involves sex has a conversation regarding safe words. i clearly tagged it wrong and i will admit that. i will take the blame for that and tag accordingly from now on.

but you used my work for your own. and also (since you added this to the ao3 post i'll include it) you admitted to using my work:

'inspired by some drama'

YOU REWROTE WHAT I MADE. YOU USED SIMILAR DIALOGUE. THE SAME SETTING. YOU JUST MADE IT YOUR OWN AND ARE ACTING LIKE THAT ISN'T PLAGIARISM??

like—

just because you didn't think i would 'appreciate' being mentioned does not mean you do it?? you literally admitted to 'tweaking' it and writing it yourself. this is such stupid fucking drama and so unnecessary what did you want to gain from this??

do not use other peoples fucking work. SIMPLE.

also i shouldnt have to say this but dont give this person shit. dont send hate in my name, its not worth it and not the point of this post whatsoever .im not naming them, they know who they are even if they've blocked me. i dont care if you see this, honestly i hope you see it. just please take plagiarism seriously because its annoying af and weird

ANYWAY have a lovely day <3