#my brain gave me this and the desire for it to be fully animate in the same style as Castlevania and im like bro

[caer-gai]

Angsty Arthurian AU Idea number ???

Reincarnation AU! Ector is raising a not-yet-remembering Arthur on his own in some off the grid small town. All alone. No Kay. Arthur had this feeling of 'something missing' his entire childhood, Ector knows who it is and has just enough of an idea what's become of Kay that it hurts a lot to think about.

They gather a bunch of local reincarnations Bedivere for sure, maybe Dinadan, Morgan, Guinevere, as Arthur is remembering and coming into his destiny. They're a small, tight knit found family scrappy low resources rebellion sort of vibe. Very fun very cool.

Now, Uther is still alive and well and running his own court/cult of personality/militant group. They and Arthur's group will come into conflict but he's also got his own agenda. Anyways one of his strongest lieutenants is Lot, who runs a powerful secret base for Uther's group, where he's "training" his sons to be Uther's perfect soldiers.

He also has Kay.

Between Lot and Uther they've made Kay into the perfect weapon against Arthur: trained since he was a baby, magic forced to it's max making him really powerful (a way to describe it i came up with comes from bedivere "The magic around him was screaming") he's supposed to be unshakably loyal. Excpt the only ones he's really loyal to are Lot's kids, to which he's become a weird sort of surrogate big brother (as much as he can). They're the only one's who treat him like a human.

Gareth absolutely hero warships Kay (though in a naive 'you're such a great knight i can't wait to serve Uther too!' kind of way that hurts Kay's soul). Anyways Kay is absolutely terrifying on the battlefield, and for a long time no one and nothing can stand in his way. Until he fights Bedivere (neither know each other's identity)

Bedivere is a solid challenge on his own, but when Kay blasts him with fire it doesn't burn Bedivere. Instead it activates some sort of magic signal bound to their souls, which protects Bedivere. Now that they know both are horror struck (for different reasons) and freeze. One of Kay's "teammates" takes a cheap shot at Bedivere, but he's warned by his team and dodges away. Making him the first to ever escape Kay.

Bedivere tells his peeps about this, which sends Ector into a dark spiral and leads Arthur to ask a lot of questions. Meanwhile, Kay is back at base and not in his armour for the first time. And he's in a cell. Gawain comes to visit, angry at Kay for freezing up, mostly because it made Lot mad. he goes on at Kay for a while before Kay finally snaps and tells him that it was Bedivere he was fighting, and on top of it the signal that save Bedi's life was one he a Kay crafted together to ensure that they couldn't hurt each other.

Which ouch. Gawain tried to apologize, but Kay's too tired for this rn and goes to sleep.

That's about as far as I've gotten linearly. Two other scenes I have in mind with Kay and Gareth-

Gareth is following Kay around while he's getting ready for a mission, mentions how he wants to be just like Kay when he grows up and Kay stops what he's doing gets down on Gareth's level and looks him in the eyes and says "Beaumains, You are going to be so much better than I ever was." (One day, in a happier world and place, where Gareth doesn't have to be anyone's soldier he remembers the first life, and he remembers this and he goes to Kay and hugs him and tells him he's still his hero)

Gareth wants very badly to go with Kay on one of his missions. So badly he teaches himself to replicate Kay's fire magic, and shows it to Kay hoping to impress him. Instead Kay freaks the fuck out and yells at him and makes him promise to never show or tell anyone about this ever again. it's the first time gareth is genuinely scared of kay. Kay hates himself for it but he can't let Lot and Uther put Gareth through the same hell that has been Kay's entire life.

idk if im feeling silly enough i might do some art for this, bc the visual of badass armoured up Kay reassuring little baby Gareth is living in my brain now

[ficklecat]

Hatake Clan Lore

I cannot for the life of me remember if I ever posted my Hatake lore head canon but it's been bouncing around in my brain so fuck it here we go -

WARNING: long post ahead, all of this is head canon and none of it is based on anything other than conjecture and ✨vibes✨

also not that I anticipate this but people get touchy about this stuff so - if you disagree with me so strongly that you feel the need to yell at me about it, please save your energy; I literally cannot express to you how disinterested I am in engaging with that kind of thing it's just anime you'll be ok pookie

Clan History

Before the First Shinobi War, the Hatake clan was a largely pacifist group unaffiliated with nation or creed. They started out as nomadic but eventually settled into farming & hunter/gatherer communities across the Land of Fire. Though they had no kekkei genkai develop, they did have some persistent clan traits that were easy to spot. Particularly, ancestral traits of early people would remain dominant through generations instead of recessing, such as sensitivity to smells and seasons, characteristics like coarser hair, sharper teeth, longer nails or limbs, and instincts that aligned with the native fauna. This allowed them to live in harsher conditions than the newly settling villages and clans, gave them the ability to self-sustain and develop natural affinity for the wilds of the elements, and eventually, aided in the use and presentation of various chakra natures in some of their clan members.

The Hatakes were small in number and fiercely independent of other clans and families, despite being extremely tight-knit in their own communities; they were not necessarily unwelcoming, rather, they lived very differently from the newly forming clan powers, and were not interested in the quarrels of man. However, due to their reluctance to ally and the growing strains between larger war clans and families, they didn't stand much of a chance when major conflicts began to arise.

When the first war finally began, the already sparse farming and hunting communities of the Hatake clan became widely dispersed as lands were torn up in battle or claimed by other families; they were displaced or absorbed into warring clans over time - some Hatake had already been taken in by the Senju, while some sought refuge with the Uchiha, only to face each other on the battlefield and recognize their clan members in the heat of battle - the wild hair, the piercing eyes, the way they would fight with teeth and claw and kunai over complex justu or weaponry.

By the time the first war ended, there were very few Hatake left to remain in tact as a clan. Many had died in battle, some had renounced their clan to assimilate into the powerful Senju or Uchiha, and the scarce few that remained had to make a choice - let their clan die out with them, or integrate into another.

Thus began the efforts of the Hatake to affiliate with the growing Inuzuka clan - an ally of the Senju but still independent of them, this clan had roots in the Land of Fire's villages already, and their affinity for canines and comparable clan traits and practices made for an easier approach than some of the more "domesticated" families. Even still, the reluctance of the Hatake to fully submit to the 'new world' and lose their precious way of life was enough to keep them at arm's length from the Inuzuka, their need for freedom clashing with the Inuzuka's desire to serve the new developing nations and hidden villages. As such, the remaining Hatake began to dwindle into disappearance, until there were only a handful left.

Kakashi's Family

This bit is also fully personal head canon and an idea I'd always wanted to turn into fic but could never get right; works better as a hc anyway -

By the time Sakumo and his partner, Hoeru Inuzuka, had Kakashi, the Hatake clan was gone, either fully absorbed into the Inuzuka by way of marriage or willing induction, or killed in action during the Second Shinobi War. Sakumo, along with Sakumo's elderly uncle, Kama Hatake, remained alive around the time of Kakashi's birth. Kama had sustained significant injuries during his service in the war, and had been in decline ever since, unable to recover. He never married and had no surviving family apart from Sakumo, but was extremely close to his nephew and Hoeru, particularly during her pregnancy. Hoeru herself was a fierce matriarchal member of the Inuzuka, but had deep respect for Kama and the Hatake clan's heritage - after all, despite their small size and initial reluctance to integrate, the Hatake had become a major part of the Inuzuka clan over generations, and had helped their clan to grow into a foothold in the Hidden Leaf Village.

Kama himself did his best to impart the importance of keeping their clan's memory alive in Sakumo - he would share stories and techniques passed down from his own uncles and parents, grandparents, elder clan members who had long since passed. He shared the importance of their preserved weaponry like the tanto or the kunai - highly usable, compact, and versatile for farming and hunting as well as in battle. When Hoeru was pregnant, she and Kama would spend a lot of time together, in the garden or inside reading when Kama's health began to worsen. Hoeru insisted he promise to live at least long enough to see the birth of their child, and Kama made good on this promise.

He died three days after Kakashi was born, and in his honor and out of a deep love for Sakumo, Hoeru made the choice to allow her son to keep his Hatake clan name. She and Sakumo planned to teach him the important history of their clan, and how both the Hatake and the Inuzuka had come together to help keep their wild spirit alive.

Unfortunately, Hoeru's death when Kakashi was still an infant left Sakumo heartbroken and hopeless. With his dear uncle and the love of his life both gone, being the last remaining member of his clan aside from his son brought him immense and crushing grief alongside his already significant battle with depression. Still, as the years went on, Sakumo did his best to teach his boy about their clan, and about the importance of belonging while keeping the memory of precious people alive. But the excommunication following that one fateful mission brought the final blow to his despair - and with everyone turning his back on him, with no clan, no lover, and no family, he lost the battle to his grief, leaving the only remaining Hatake clan member to be his son, Kakashi Hatake.

[sunyoungpeony]

Haunting Adeline: Naraku and Kikyo Contemporary Dark Romance?

I usually avoid talking about books I didn't finish because it feels unfair to judge them without reading the whole story. I can't help but share this dark romance novel I saw on Amazon. I've stopped reading "Haunting Adeline" FOR NOW because the intense and dark topics in this story are too much for me at the moment. As someone who has a strong imagination who will be the characters in the books I read on Kindle, this one unfortunately gave me multiple headaches, my jaw dropped several times, and it even made me feel a bit nauseous.

Last year, after going to a book writing event where readers recommended "Haunting Adeline," I decided to pick it up. I remember a lady mentioning it was an intensely dark romance about a male character STALKING the female lead. A really unhealthy obsession!

They reminded me of Kikyo and Naraku's toxic unhealthy relationship! Maam, I was in one of those moods you know? My brain is like... "Bring on the drama! The darker, the better!" I don't mind if this book was set in contemporary. My mind just went...

"Toxic obsession? Stalking? Sounds like my kind of party! It's NarKik. Yay!!!" 😂

So, I got the e-book and started reading it at home. And guess what? It turned out to be quite DIFFERENT from what I was expecting. Here's what happened.

I'm 65% of the way through this book, so I can only give half of my opinion about it since I haven't finished yet. I'm also not sure when I'll read the rest.

Both "Haunting Adeline" and the relationship between Kikyo and Naraku are about really unhealthy obsession. No doubt about that! But the stories and situations around that "obsession" are totally different. Haunting Adeline is a contemporary dark romance novel focusing on "disturbing obsession" of a stalker, (Zade) towards the protagonist (Adeline). Their relationship is explicitly shown as a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Adeline is terrified…BUT some readers have a problem with the fact that she's also drawn to the person holding her captive. The book shows how much Adeline SUFFERS mentally (psychological torment) and how the line between being scared and having a weird kind of attraction gets blurry in this contemporary setting.

Kikyo and Naraku's relationship in the anime "Inuyasha" is different. Their connection is all about Naraku is trying to control things and desire for power.  The way Naraku is obsessed with Kikyo isn't like a normal love story. It's NOT romantic, okay! Their relationship isn't really a direct cat-and-mouse chase. It's more about Naraku's manipulative actions that HAUNT Kikyo and drive much of the plot. (Haunting Kikyo…hmmm!)

Zade's obsession in Haunting Adeline:

It is set within a dark "romance" framework.

Exploring themes of control

Stalking

Disturbing attraction.

Naraku's obsession with Kikyo in Inuyasha:

It's more like a need for revenge and control that comes from where he started.

Hungry for power.

Stalking (a little bit)

Sadistic

While both Haunting Adeline and NarKik involve unhealthy obsession, labeling "Haunting Adeline" as a Contemporary Dark Romance of Kikyo and Naraku oversimplifies the distinct contexts and nature of their relationships. Haunting Adeline is a dark romance intense story. Some people might even think it makes stalking and obsession look romantic in modern times. On the other hand, Kikyo and Naraku's relationship is complicated and more about Naraku being a jerk who wants revenge and power. Not really a love story, even a dark one. Just saying.

This is what I honestly think. Though I like Naraku/Kikyo toxic ship, I don't want to make "Haunting Adeline" sound better than it is. If any Naraku/Kikyo fans reading my blog are thinking about trying "Haunting Adeline," they should know what they're getting into.

Even though my brain fully understands that this book is decidedly not a 'NarKik' dark romance (…and probably has way less demonic scheming and shattered Shikon Jewel shards), I still can't help but imagine Kikyo and Naraku as the characters in my head. I know it's crazy. I mean, it's way more entertaining this way you know! Haha.

Soooo….if you're a NarKik fan and don't mind what happens in the story and you wish Naraku and Kikyo were in a different world (since they really hate each other in the actual anime)… then go ahead and read Haunting Adeline! You can chat with me on Goodreads. I'd love to hear what you think! Be sure to check trigger warnings of this book. Your mental health is important!

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

WIP Wednesday Whenever

I got tagged by @isayashai and for once I actually have something on hand to share :) tysm for the tag!

I am not in enough of a brain space to tag people, so if you see this and want to share a WIP, consider yourself tagged!

//

It hit Wyll suddenly, as he dodged the wolf lunging at him—the wolf hadn’t actually hurt him. The snapping jaw always caught a space next to him, claws and teeth just shy of doing any real damage. Even as blood dripped from the wolf’s maw, none of it was Wyll’s.

Wyll slowed his movements, lowered his sword slightly.

Snarling, the wolf stepped closer. Even hunched low to the ground, the wolf stood as tall as him at the shoulders. When the wolf was only a few feet away, Wyll suddenly felt his tadpole squirming behind his eyes, connecting with the parasite in the wolf. Before Wyll could even consider how that could be possible, the wolf’s thoughts suddenly flooded his mind.

Do it. Be the hero. Kill me. Get it over with. You’ve finally seen the real me, have the courtesy to show me who you are. Whether you're like him or not, whether you’re a hero or not, you can drive your blade through my chest and know you are right. You always are. He always was.

Wyll stopped, hesitated, lowering his sword fully. 

The wolf growled, maw stained red, patches of fur matted with blood from where his sword managed to hit. As it stepped closer, teeth bared, Wyll’s tadpole once again connect with the wolf’s.

Do it. Be the hero. Kill me. Get it over with. You’ve finally seen the real me, have the courtesy to show me who you are. Whether you're like him or not, whether you’re a hero or not, you can drive your blade through my chest and know you are right. You always are. He always was.

Wyll’s mind flashes back to the nightmare that awoke him, the horrified faces as he transformed into his deviled form, hellfire consuming him and leaving something monstrous. The disappointment, the terror in the eyes of everyone as Mizora appeared behind him.

Wyll didn’t regret it, he told himself, he didn't regret it. He would make the deal with Mizora again, he would spare Karlach’s life again. He saved countless lives with his pact, he gave up his human form to spare an innocent woman. Wyll Ravengard, The Blade of Frontiers, was a hero, everything he did was right. He killed devils and monsters.

The creature before him was a monster, littered around him were the mutilated bodies of humans and animals alike. It had killed countless people, may kill countless more. 

Yet…

“I don’t think you want to hurt me,” Wyll said quietly, searching the wolf’s eyes for understanding.

I can hear the blood in your veins. I hunger to tear open your flesh and devour you. The desire consumes my mind. I will hurt you. It is only a matter of time.

“You haven’t hurt me yet, you had the chance but didn’t,”

I won’t let you win, I won’t be fooled by the hero act. Not again. Not this time. I won’t let you touch me. I won’t let you pretend it’s love. Show me your true self, not the act.

Wyll dropped his sword, dropped to his knees, raised his hands to surrender.

The wolf only saw the sudden movement.

[moonlight-waning]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61911949/chapters/160945285

Haha, so, about this chapter. 🙃 This mamajama is currently sitting at 11,000 words, but I wrote the beginning, got a brain wrinkle in the middle, then wrote the ending... because I am definitely a sane person. Totally. Anyway... As it stands, this is the first 5,000 words and I have- ready and written- the last 6,000 words, but there's some words missing in the middle. I'm almost, almost there, but I simply can't bring myself to write smut at work-- (Don't look at me like that. I do have -some- shame (very little, but some)). --so my plan is to finish and publish the other half tonight. As always, thanks to everyone still sticking with it. I appreciate you more than you know. Hearts and parties, 💗& 🎉 MW

“We should probably talk about what happened in– in the Fade. In your dream.”

“Yes,” he said sternly. “We should.”

Lucanis took one more step in her direction, bringing himself so close to her that they were nearly chest-to-chest. She noticed him then, her gaze skipping downward as she took in his body and his proximity and the way he kept his hands braced lightly at her elbows, holding her still. Confusion ruled over her features and she shook her head ever-so-slightly as she brought her eyes back up to his face.

“Lucanis, what…?“

“I need to know the answer to something,” he said. “I need to ask you a question.”

Her dark brows drew together and wariness entered her expression. She sensed a trap but hadn’t yet realized she’d already been caught. “Alright. Ask it.”

“When we were in the Fade. When you spoke with Illario,” he began. “You told him not to touch you. That you were not his to touch.”

“I did,” she confirmed, eying him cautiously. “What of it?”

Lucanis slid his hands up her arms, fingers sweeping over fine fabric sleeves and beyond so that he could curl his palms around her neck, cradling her jaw and tilting her chin upward to bring her face into the light. Blue eyes stared back at him and he couldn’t resist the urge to brush his thumb over the bridge of her nose and across her cheek, tracing the scar that still stirred up feelings of shame and remorse.

And something else.

Her lips were slightly parted as if a question rested at the tip of her tongue, ready to be released. She leaned back against the desk because he’d crowded her thusly, wedging himself between her legs as she held onto the edge, keeping herself steady while he invaded her space.

“What I need to know is,” he started to say. “Are you mine?”

A soft huff of nervous laughter escaped her. “Am I… yours?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Are you mine to touch?”

Rook licked her lips and smiled lightly, but the wariness in her expression had only increased. She was a small animal who’d stepped into a snare, fully aware that there was a trap beneath her, but unsure of when it would spring. She searched his face for answers, but he gave her none, waiting for her reply.

“I thought I had made myself fairly transparent in that regard,” she told him, and he watched as color flooded her cheeks.

“I need you to answer definitively,” he said, his thumb sweeping across her cheek again. “Yes or no.”

Tension coiled within him, rippling through every muscle in his body. His hands fell away from her face, moving to her hips where he began ruching up the sides of the shirt she wore until he could place his palms against bare flesh. He’d been correct— there was only a delicate set of undergarments beneath, and that knowledge alone was enough to drive him half-mad with desire.

“Then… yes.”

[limesonspecial]

When I watch non-English film & tv, there's nearly always a moment when something in the translation feels...flat. Like there's some nuanced word in the original language that is being abbreviated to the simplest, most direct equivalent. Not exactly an untranslatable word, but something with a cultural context that you just don't get in translation. The only example that's coming to me is hiraeth, which you can simplify to longing or homesickness, but only by stripping out that very specific Welsh-ness (which, as a USian, I will never fully understand, but I believe Welsh folk when they say this is so).

Anyway, when it happens, when I get that curious flatness, I always wonder what it is I'm missing. What are the implications? What would a native speaker understand here that I'm just not able to grasp, coming at it as I am from a sort of linguistic telephone? It enhances the experience for me, hammers home that there are complexities of the human condition to which I am not - and will never be - a party. A reminder that even though my country likes to think of itself as the default, it really, really isn't (nor should it be). I think those moments are neat, and I hope I never lose them.

All of which is preamble to what I actually want to comment on, which is this: Blue Eye Samurai, despite being a show written by Americans in English (and animated by a French studio, but *dismissive gesture*), gave me this feeling. Granted, Amber Noizumi is biracial, so there's a leg up there, but the care and detail work everyone in production put in is extraordinary. I'm no expert on Japanese history, language, or culture, so I can't really weigh in on how accurate it is, but what I can say is that it felt like a foreign country. Like I was learning new things, and recognizing the bits and bobs I've picked up across the years in their proper contexts.

And there's something about how the various characters use the word great that pings that little "lost in translation" alarm in my brain, even in the absence of translation. It came on slowly, though. When Ringo wants to be great, he really wants to be recognized as having value (dovetails nicely with his "See? Useful." to Mizu). When Taigen wants to be great, he wants to be so accomplished that no one cares that he was a fisherman's son and has climbed up the caste ladder to a loftier position. Both of these are easy for an American audience to grasp (we're big on individual exceptionalism over here).

By the time the characters have all rolled up in Edo, however, the meaning has shifted. When Mizu tells Akemi that Taigen isn't a good man, but he could be great...there's a hint of some other meaning. It isn't about recognition or accomplishment, but something more like virtue. And when Taigen and Akemi meet on the bridge, there's the sense that they're using two different meanings - Taigen no longer cares about being a status-rooted great (or now prioritizes it below happiness); but the greatness that Akemi wants...that's a bird of a different color. Something about how she says that one sentence brings in all the different ways people have meant "great" throughout the season, so that when she uses that same, single-syllable word that people have been applying to a variety of simple desires, it feels...flat. It makes me want to look up what she said in the original Japanese and compare it to the other instances of 'great'...except there is no "original Japanese," just some really tight English writing. Which is cool as hell.

[thisworldisablackhole]

Snow Crash, by Neal Stephenson - 3.5/5

Man, this is definitely one of the books of all time.

Snow Crash was recommended to me by a friend as “essential for Gibson heads”, and while I can see the similarities in the worlds both Gibson and Stephenson have depicted, the writing styles they employ are almost polar opposites, or perhaps two sides of the same coin. While Gibson’s writing is gritty and realistic, Stephenson’s writing is plain cartoonish. It’s hard to describe if you haven’t read it, but there are many passages in this book that read just like the front page of a 90s text book; a radical skateboarder doing a melon grab over a pool of geometrical vaporwave shapes with the words “WOW!” and “SCIENCE!” blasted over head in a jagged sound bubble. That’s pretty much the gist of this book. One thing I kind of prefer about Stephenson is his sense of coherence. The plot of Snow Crash is far more outrageous and unbelievable than anything in the Sprawl Trilogy, but I never felt like I was lost or confused. It's impressive considering the amount of shifting between characters and real world vs metaverse happenings.

I have a lot of mixed feelings about this book. I really enjoyed the bold writing style and the imaginative world building, but the pacing and character development left a lot to be desired. Hiro went from being a slacker hacker pizza delivery guy living in a storage unit to being a Jason Bourne level action hero in the span of a few chapters, and by the end of the book it felt like he simply became a vessel for the author to carry out his will. Apparently (after discussing the book with friends) this was intentional, as it was supposed to be a “parody” of cyberpunk literature, but it really didn’t read that way to me, and that context doesn’t change the way I feel about it at all. I actually much preferred Y.T.'s character. In fact, my favourite parts of this book in general were the parts that fully gave in to the futuristic skateboard fantasy of Y.T. surfing traffic by harpooning vehicles as if they were wild animals.

Where this book really took me by surprise was how deep it went into language and religious philosophy. While the curious side of my brain actually enjoyed these chapters where Hiro was essentially just getting history lessons, they felt a little shoehorned in and unnecessary. The story would have been just as good if the Snow Crash virus was just a regular ass computer virus. Having to go back in time and get a college degree to explain the origin of the virus did not actually make the plot any more interesting. Alas, the way the book switched back and forth between these very grounded history lessons and then back to pure techno fantasy was amusing to say the least. So, despite the choppy character development, semi poor pacing and a plot that was just all over the map, this was still a highly entertaining read that was well worth the time.

[jordanbuckner]

Thoughts for the Void #01

Finding Meaning in the Era of Weird

It is no grand statement to say that these past few years have been weird. It is hard to define what exactly the weirdness is and when it all began (although Adam Curtis’ HyperNormalisation has some clues) but without a doubt, it’s been fucking weird.

And this era of weirdness has fully infected my way of being. In the past 5 years, I’ve entirely lost my creative soul and drive. As an artist, I have been a dead man walking. I watch less films, I make less work, I spend less time drawing and painting, less time being in love with creating, and generally less time feeling like I once did. It has been a depressing and frustrating experience. It is as though my nerve endings have shortened, my eyes have closed up and my brain has shrivelled into a kind of walnut.

Much of this might be the results of a pandemic, a parental death, age and a general sense that things aren’t great in the world. It might also be due to the rise of AI, the endless sea of visual content and the sense that whatever we make, the world doesn’t care too much anymore for meaning. It’s just more stuff for the content heap - another thing for the void to swallow.

But fuck that - that’s no way to live! How have I (and perhaps we) so easily let tech companies, social media and new technologies erode and swallow up my passion and desire to create? I loved being creative. I loved painting, making, crafting and doing. I loved reading, watching and discovering the world through art. It was the thing that gave me meaning and energy. And I’m not interested in letting scrolling feeds and AI models erode that meaning in me. And so, here I am…

New Phone. Who Dis?

This blog and newsletter is simply a way for me to document my way back to that creative homeland. It is a quiet place for an internal rebellion to start. A space in which I can talk and share the things I’m making as I attempt to fall in love once again with the art life. It may be that not a single soul reads or looks upon this place, and I’m entirely happy with that (in fact, that thought it rather calming.) But if you are reading this, welcome.

My name is Jordan Buckner - I used to be an artist filmmaker person from the U.K. I typically made strange films for people like the BBC, BFI and Arts Council, but I also painted, animated and created various other things. I made short films like the one below.

But now, I am a lost person in search of a home once again. A person trying to remember how it feels to create things in freedom and without expectation. And a person who still has hope that creating things is a way of finding and communicating meaning in a world of weirdness and voids. Let the journey begin.

You can follow me on Substack here!

[theuntamedangel]

Gosh I can't stress enough on how much I agree with this statement\essay. Shigaraki, an incel? what? how on earth did they ever come across such an idea? who gave them this brain rotting idea? he is one person who has CANNONICALLY shown that he is fully aware of the dynamics he has with his LoV and his teammates with each other. For instance, Shigaraki acknowledges the fact that Twice has massive respect for Giran because he was the one who introduced him to the LoV and as a result, Twice found a place to stay and be accepted by people.

He was a man child who used to lash out at his own team if things didnt go as planned but he was forced to grow out of his comfort zone when he lost both Kurogiri and AFO. He had to navigate his own way, gathering comrades along the way. Shigaraki is a character who learns and grows from his mistakes which can be easily called the greatest benchmark for character development.

Shigaraki is now no longer a man child. He has now fully embraced his role as the next symbol and fear and has also expressed his desire to be greater than AFO himself and he marches with forward with a smile. He does have a few outbursts of unhealed childhood traumas, for instance, his fight against Mirio is the best panel to support my statement.

Outside of that, I've seen countless female fans turning him into something absolutely vulgar, sick and disgusting, to the point that he's an unrecognizable character. They're turned him into a man child, a selfish brat who only uses people as a means to an end, and my god, their spicy head canon version just makes me want to throw up. They're just wanna live their lewd sexual fantasies through anime. that's it!

Can we talk about Shigaraki for a minute?

In my opinion, I think Shigaraki is a fantastic villain. (Minus when Potato man took over and him being side lined rn.) Shigaraki goes from someone who was stunted in childhood to him being the most fear man in Japan, respects his league, cares for them, ACTUALLY listens to them, and is an actual threat, while making a valid point about Hero Society. Tell me why people read him so... fucking weirdly? People think Shigaraki still suffers from angry outbursts, doesn't give two shits about his league, and games all day. He isn't like that anymore. Dude was literally fucking calm when Toga had a knife at his throat. He lets his team speaks their minds, and gets others' outputs. Like, he DOES change. The reason why Shigaraki acted like a "man child" was because AFO literally stunted his growth on purpose. He had childish behavior because that's a result from trauma. He grows from it, and overcomes it.

Or people making him into an incel is just... gross. Or people just being grossly ablest, too. People being like "lololol Shigaraki is crusty he doesn't take care of himself he smells he's musty" which is... 1.) grossly ablest to people who have eczema/skin disorders. He looks "crusty" because has eczema scars. No amount of shitty, scented lotion will get rid of his scars, 2.) It's clear Shigaraki struggles with depression. Having depression rips you of the energy to do anything. Getting out of bed or showering is hard for some people. Minus this tagent, It really sucks AFO just kind of took over the role of the big bad when Shigaraki kept fucking say it's HIS dream, HIS path. Not AFO's. Even saying he HATED him. Tomura, you deserve better. Both within fandom and canon. 8-9 years of development, and this is what we're getting for the big show down?

I completely agree.

I've touched on this briefly before, but Shigaraki's character progression in Deika City was spectacular. It was great to see him reclaim the power that he was shunned for (and accidentally destroyed his family with) and evolve into a true leader. He was really coming into himself and working towards his own goal. Deika not only carried season 5 (season 5 was soooo bad), but it solidified Shigaraki as one of my favorite anime villains.

And then Horikoshi took away his agency by having AFO snatch his body😐 Him wanting AFO in the first place literally undid all the progress he had just made.

This is what I can't stand about Hori's writing. He'll introduce a character or concept or character concept and then completely disregard it moving forward (quirkless discrimination, corrupt society, quirk marriages, Momo's entire character, etc.). Someone said it in one of my reblogs; the manga introduces a bunch of interesting concepts, Hori just has nothing interesting to say about them.

Tomura definitely cares for the League. He says that what he wants is for his friends to be able to be free to do as they please. He was also infuriated over Magne's death. I think that they make him feel like he belongs and he has people to relate to and look after. He definitely thinks of them as friends

[sunarc]

Again

Synopsis: There’s something about watching his darling cum over and over again that brings a menacing smile to Kita’s face

 DISCIPLINE Kita x Reader 

Warning: smut, afab reader, daddy kink, spanking, finger sucking, praise, oral male receiving, overstimulation, unprotected sex, fingering

A/N: I wanted to save this for Kita’s birthday post but I couldn’t hold it much longer hehe. Also it feels good to be back. This is apart of my kinktober masterlist that you can check here 

Kita’s stare burned. The way he looked at you was almost terrifying. You want to say something but you knew better than to speak in a moment like this. You sat on the edge of the bed spread out for him to see you in all your glory. Your legs trembled as you shoved your finger deeper into your hole. Below you laid a pool of your own cum from the previous orgasms that Kita watched you pull from yourself. 

“Shin I can’t” you whimpered.

Kita walked closer to you. A smirk covered his face as he gazed at the mess between your legs. He scanned your body before meeting your eyes. There was a look of hunger as he stared at you. 

“So pretty for me” the words fell from his glossy lips with ease.

Kita leaned down to you. His lips found their way to your neck and you felt shivers run through your body. His mouth felt warm against your skin as he sucked a mark you knew you’d have to cover up later. His hand slid down your body until he reached your core. He pulled your fingers from your hole and brought them up to your lips.

“Be a good girl and suck for me”

Kita’s voice was deep and sultry. You felt so needy for him you’d do anything to hear him call you his good girl again. You opened your mouth and Kita guided your slick covered fingers onto your tongue. You met his eyes as your tongue cleaned your mess. He looked at you mesmerized. He was like an animal ready for its prey. You felt the heat pool between your legs and you could only hope that Kita was finally going to decide he was ready to fuck you. He pulled away from you to stand up straight. He was still fully clothed and you wanted nothing more than to rip the clothes off of him. You felt desperate. You needed him to fuck you. The thought of Kita sliding in and out of you groaning your name with each thrust clouded your brain. 

“Again” Kita broke through your thoughts with his voice. 

You almost screamed at the word. You knew exactly what he meant. He wanted another orgasm from you. He wanted to watch you fuck yourself and beg for him all over again. 

“Shin please” you leaned forward to sit on your knees. Your hand reached for his belt and you gave him your best pout. “I need your cock daddy” 

You knew he had a soft spot for hearing you call him daddy. It was a tactic you had little hope for but it couldn’t hurt to try. The chuckle that bubbled from his throat was all the answer you needed. He leaned down to be eye level with you. His hand wrapped around your throat giving it a soft squeeze. 

“Only good girls get daddy’s cock. Maybe you’ll think again before you play with my pussy without my permission” 

He stood again with a menacing smile. 

“Don’t make me repeat myself doll” 

Your hand instinctively slid down to your core to rub small circles over your clit. You let out a small whimper at the delicate touch. Your mind began to wander off to the thought of Kita. You were desperate to feel his touch. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes. Your fingers slid down to your hole. The desire to be filled was overwhelming. You dipped two fingers inside and let out a soft gasp. Your jaw hung low as your fingers massaged your gummy walls. 

“Come on baby” Kita’s voice rang through your stream of moans.

You looked up to see him staring at you while undoing his tie, the same smirk covering his face. 

“You know what I want to hear” The menacing smile dropped into a deadpan expression 

“Beg.”

The words seemed to bounce off the walls. If begging was what you had to do to get his touch then so be it.

“Please Shin-”

“Who?” you knew what he wanted to hear.

Your eyes met his. Your fingers moved back and forth with the only sound in the room being the wet sounds of hole.

“Please fuck me daddy” the words felt so naughty falling past your lips. 

Kita’s fingers tapped against your inner thigh signaling for you to spread your legs further. You did as you were told with a moan. “I want you to make me cum. I want to scream your name until I can’t take it anymore.” your back and forth movement continued and the hungry look in Kita’s eyes grew. He removed his tie and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. His eyes never left you. Your body felt hot from the stare. Kita pulled off his shirt revealing his toned body. His skin glistened and you were almost sure there was drool on your lips.  His hands came up to his belt to undo it. Your heart began to patter in your chest with the only thought being Kita’s cock. Kita slipped his pants off and you could see the bulge in his underwear. 

“Do you want me as badly as I want you Daddy?” you already knew the answer to your question. You just needed to hear him say it. 

Kita leaned down to you staring deeply into your eyes. He pulled your fingers free from your hole, placed them onto his tongue and slowly began to suck. You wanted to close your eyes from the feeling of his tongue swiveling around your fingers but you couldn’t pull away from the sight. Kita’s plump lips wrapped around your fingers with loan groans. Your heart was beating in your chest harder than ever. He pulled your fingers from his mouth with a line of saliva following behind. His hand guided your hand down his chest to the hard on in his underwear. Your eyes followed his movements until they reached their destination. You hadn’t noticed yourself slowly leaning forward. You looked up to see him staring down at you. 

“Show me how bad you want me” 

Within seconds you were on your knees in front of him. Your hand reached up to pull his underwear down. His cock sprung free and if your pupils could they would have formed the shape of hearts. Your tongue licked the tip earning a low groan. You sucked softly before pushing him further into your mouth. His cocked brushed the back of your throat easily. You moaned as you bobbed your head back and forth at a slow pace. 

“Just like that doll” Kita’s hand gripped your hair softly guiding your head up and down his cock. Drool dripped down the sides of your mouth. His groans were enough to make you feel a heartbeat between your legs. Your hand snaked down your body to ease the desire for pleasure. You rocked back and forth on your hand while your mouth devoured Kita’s cock whole.

“Your mouth looks so pretty stretched out for me. I can’t wait to see how pretty you look getting filled with my cum.” Kita’s words carried so much weight. 

You were desperate to see him cum. Kita rocked his hips into your mouth while his hands came up to the sides of your head holding you in place. You looked up towards him. His head was leaned back with his jaw slack. His groans flowed through the room like a song you never wanted to end. His skin glistened with drops of sweat. You never knew someone could be so perfect. Kita pulled himself back from you. His hand wrapped around your throat to lead you to stand up. His lips pressed down on yours. For a second the world stopped. There was nothing but the two of you. You felt your body shiver from the passion behind his kiss. He pulled back breathing heavily. 

“All four now” his voice was demanding

You got on the bed on your hands and knees. You wiggled your ass in the air signaling to Kita he had all access to you.  Kita’s hand came down onto your ass cheek. A small smile formed as he watched it jiggle from the impact. 

“So wet for me baby” 

He lined the tip of his cock to your hole and slowly pushed himself in. You let out a soft gasp at the feeling of being stretched out. Kita pulled his cock from inside of you and chuckled at the whimper you let out. 

“So needy for me aren't ya doll?”

Kita brushed his cock against your clit. You let out a soft moan as you bucked your hips onto his cock. 

“Please,” you whined. “ Put it in”.

You needed to be full. You were desperate to feel his cock stretch you out. Who was Kita to deny you of what you needed so badly? He buried his cock into you. His hips rocked back and forth at an achingly slow pace. Kita could be such a tease at times. His pace was constant. 

“You need me don't you” he whispered the words over your soft moans. His cock slid so easily into you. You were made just for him.

“How does it feel, doll?” Kita leaned down to whisper the words into your ear. 

You let out a soft moan as his cock inched deeper into you. The squelching sounds of your hole echoed through the room. You could barely form the words you wanted to say to Kita.

“How’s my cock feel fucking this sloppy hole hmm?” He picked up his pace and began ramming into you. The creaking of the bed grew louder along with your moans. Your hand gripped the sheets below you. Your mouth sat open with your face pressed against the bed. You would have felt embarrassed by the amount of drool that soaked the sheets but all you could think about was how good the stretch of your pussy felt. 

“Daddy” you moaned the words so delicately.

The feel of him fucking himself deeper into you mercilessly left you speechless. 

“That’s right” Kita groaned “ I don’t want to hear anything unless its you screaming my name” 

His grip on your hips tightened. The sound of skin slapping against each other filled the room. Your legs began to tremble with each thrust. Your hole clenched around Kita’s cock as you neared your orgasm. 

“Please I-” your words were cut off by your own moan.

“Its okay baby, make a mess on my cock” 

His words were enough to send you to your release. You body felt weak as Kita held your hips fucking you through your orgasm. You let out muffled moans of his name. 

“So good for me” he groaned watching you cream on his cock. “So fucking good for me”

Kita’s movements stilled. He gripped onto your hair pulling you up to his chest. His tongue licked a long strip on your neck before biting just enough to earn a whimper from you. 

“You didn’t think we were done did you?” he breathed the words “ We're not stopping until I think you’ve learned your lesson.”

 Kita released you allowing your half limp body to fall back onto the bed. He gripped your hips and began rocking his cock into you again.

“Now be a good girl and cum on my cock again”

[teslacoils-and-hubris]

excuse me for a moment while i go on an insane little rant about a game none of my followers have ever heard of probably (spoilers for I was a teenage exocolonist, also go play the game this is a threat not a suggestion)

What gets me is how similar Dys and Tan's core story arcs are. Like, they're both twin who feel completely uncomfortable in their bodies in completely different ways, literally the two opposite sides of the spectrum

Tan is a trans woman, happy with her new female body as much as she can be. Because as much as she's happy in it she's not happy that she has to exist as a human at all. Her ideal form is an AI as literally stated in the game. The base needs and desires of her human form are uncomfortably animalistic. Her mother gave her a genetic adaptation to make her need less sleep, and she even turns eating into something more robotic than natural- specifically chewing her food for optimal digestion. The limits to her augmenting her form are solely because the colony has limited and outdated tech, I fully believe if available to her Tan would upload her brain to a robot body or the internet.

Dys is a cis man, and his issues with his body come completely from its connection to humanity as a force against nature. He sees humans as having rejected their animal heritage and as invaders undeserving of the new planet and the salvation it offers the colonists from the ruins of earth. He has multiple dialogs all but outright saying that the colony should have died out, that you're a plague on the planet. His story arc ends with him becoming a tree, fully abandoning the idea that humans are above nature and not part of it.

I don't have a final thesis for this, I've just been playing through all the romance routes and the duality of the twins really stuck with me. Like, the game does a really good job of creating realistic characters that react realistically to their world, and so many of them feel like direct parallels to each other- Cal and Nem, Marz and Tammy, they all act as narrative foils for eachother (though, I haven't played through all the routes yet so I can't talk on them yet)

Anyways go play teenage exocolonist, it's a card-building romance game where you grow up on a colony on an alien planet and have to try and survive and maybe even find love! then you die and wake up the day before you crash land on the planet and get to live your live all over again. The player character gender options really are amazing, pronouns and what puberty your character went through are completely seperate from your characters looks, and the setting and lore and story telling are amazing!

[kiame-sama]

28 Years - Yandere!Silva x Reader (2nd Pregnancy)

Many have asked and now, here it is!!

Warnings; Dub-con, pregnancy, yandere relationship, manipulation, mention of past abuse, yandere, yandere behavior, yandere tendencies, nsfw, Silva extreme views, family bonding,

It had been a few years- close to six- but the scars of your emotional turmoil were still present in your behavior and actions. You would become distressed whenever Silva attempted to be intimate with you, only calming down when he would back off, giving you the space you needed. Sometimes he would and sometimes he wouldn't, but he generally had not lain a single hand on you with any intent to hurt or force you to do anything.

It seemed he might have learned from his egregious error of taking Illumi away from you and punishing you for running away from him. Now he was cautious and treated you like glass in his grip, still keeping you close as often as possible and readjusting you to his touch. Some progress has been made- you no longer flinched from his touch or sobbed when he held you- but you still reacted like you were being burned or tortured with any kind of intimacy.

Though he wouldn't admit it, Silva hated seeing your pained expression, listening to your frightened whimpers and cries, seeing your panic whenever he tried to pin you under him, and most of all he hated how you never seemed to enjoy intimacy with him anymore. Even when he had first kidnapped you, you would make such loud noises and moans of pleasure any time he touched you and now you just panicked and cried. He didn't think your rejection of his affection would impact him so deeply, but he honestly couldn't remain hard or cum when you cried in such a way whenever he took you.

He was unable to enjoy it if you didn't enjoy it.

He could be a patient man, but he also had burning needs that drew him into near feral insanity if he refused to indulge in them. Silva NEEDED you. He needed your touch, your affection, your intimacy, all of it. He had tried to ignore his needs more than once before and almost every time he was unable to last very long, aching with desire just to feel your touch against his skin.

Even if it meant you were striking him or cursing at him, he would feverishly accept your touch with absolute glee. He was so sick with how desperately he needed you. His only 'cure' to this aching need was indulgence in his addiction to you. He was addicted to everything you had to offer and to everything you did. Nothing other than you mattered to him because you were his world. You were his love, his light, his everything.

True to his assassin nature, he quietly entered the room, frowning upon seeing you curled up in your shared bed and slightly shivering from the cold his absence seemed to cause. He chose to wake you gently, massaging your shoulders and murmuring softly to you in a husky hum.

"(Y/n), wake up..."

"Ngh... Hm? Silva? What is it?"

"I want to try something with you."

He felt your body stiffen as you fully awoke due to his words, fear and anxiety shooting through you almost violently at the implications his words had. You could only muster a whimper and start shaking your head back and forth, not trusting your words to be enough to deny his advances. Still he persisted, arms snaking around your midsection and pulling your back up against a warm chest.

"Shh... Trust me."

"No... No. No! No no no no no no no no!"

You were thrashing like a wild animal at this point, clawing for freedom and screaming out as if in pain, biting him when you could as you tried to wrench yourself from his grasp. He continued to simply hold you close as you thrashed, wailing and fighting his grip with all you had. But even your energy had to die down at some point, panting and whining pathetically as you lay exhausted in his arms.

"It's alright. It's okay... See? You're okay."

"No..."

"Yes. Have I hurt you during all of this?"

"... No..."

"See? I just need you to trust me. It won't hurt and we can take this as slowly as you want."

"I don't want it..."

"You do. You just think you don't because you're scared. I hurt you. I have done you wrong and unknowingly enforced the idea of intimacy being a punishment. I should have shown restraint and should have never done what I did to make you run in the first place. Let me show you this is different. Let me show you it's okay."

"..."

Your whimpers quieted as you lay hyper aware of any movement Silva made, feeling one arm drag down your side and his hand come to a rest on your lower stomach. When you didn't immediately try to push him away, he continued to follow the soft curve of your body until his large hand was parting your thighs. He slid his hand into your sleep pants where he cupped your heat and gently kissed your shoulder, slowly beginning to rub light pressure over your sensitive body.

The softest of noises left you, some kind of mix between a whimper and a moan, uncertain if you were whining from fear or due to the gentle movements of your husband. When Silva added a bit more pressure to your warm heat, you expected a flash of pain to stab through you, instead a soothing sensation ran through your mind and compelled you to calm just a bit more. Your light moans seemed to be the only confirmation Silva needed to keep going, sliding his hand gently between your soft folds, fingers prodding at your wet entrance.

Your mewling moans turned into gasps of pleasure as you gripped his thick arm, pressing back against his warm chest and whining in bliss. The light feeling of his lips trailing over your neck made you whine and shiver, hips beginning to slowly move with his relaxed strokes. You could feel how much your responses were affecting him given the rock-hard length that pressed stiffly against your back, pulsing in desire and need.

He tugged at your loose sleep clothes, easily sliding them off of your body, leaving you bare against his broad chest. His hands were warm as they slid over your chilled flesh, letting the heat sink into your body and warm you to the core. It was clear he was taking great care to not cause you any level of pain, given his relaxed touch and gentle behavior.

You whimpered when he moved so you were laying face-down on the bed, your hips raised up and his muscled body over your own. The firmness that pressed against you made you mewl and turn your head to look at him in vague fear despite the slick that coated your thighs. It was clear you were still frightened and hesitant to the idea of intimacy with Silva after what he had done to you, but the large hands on your hips gave you little room to voice that fear.

"Shh... It's alright..."

He shifted above you and you were about to question what it was he was doing when an intense warmth met your pulsing pussy, gasping and gripping at the blankets as an obscene slurping sound met your ears. Silva lapped his tongue at your soaked heat, making you mewl and cry out against the blankets beneath you, arching your back as pleasure hummed through your entire body. You couldn't stop the moans that tumbled from your lips due to the mind-numbing bliss that sparked through your brain, balling up your fists as you tried to hold back the sounds.

"Fuck..! Fuck, it- it's so good..!"

You were practically drooling at that point from the pleasure that coiled itself tightly in your abdomen, your eyes clenching shut as you continued to whine loudly. Silva seemed to only be spurred on from your pleasured noises, sinking his tongue as deeply into you as he could, gripping your hips and moving you in time with his desperate licking. When you felt like you couldn't take it anymore, you let out a loud screech of bliss as that coil snapped and flooded your body with euphoria, shaking from the sheer force of the pleasure.

"There we go... Fuck, you look so good squirting for me like this."

A whine left your exhausted form as he slid two fingers into you, moving and scissoring them slowly to get your warm walls to loosen for him. You were able to just lean into your pillows, feeling the echos of pleasure building up inside of you once more as Silva slowly but surely worked you over. He continued with his slow movements, letting you move your hips back against his fingers and fucking yourself on them at the pace you wanted all while admiring the wonderful view he had of your blissed out expression.

When your hips began to slightly stutter and jerk at a faster pace, he pulled away from you, relishing the sound of your needy whine of disapproval. He didn't hesitate to lick his fingers clean of your slick, getting a few more slow strokes of his tongue on your soaked pussy before getting to the matter at hand. He lined himself up, only allowing the tip of his large cock to rub against your tight hole as he gently massaged your hips.

"Would you like more?"

"Ple-please! Yes- yes, please, Silva! I need- ngh- I need more!"

"Then go ahead and take more. Go as fast or as slowly as you wish. Take my cock into you."

Silva was actually slightly surprised at how you reacted to his words, almost trying to take him in too quickly as you pushed your hips back, letting him sink deeper into you. The sheer stretch of taking his entire length was enough to make your toes curl in pleasure, needing to pause for a moment just to try and adjust to the full feeling. Some part of him wondered if you were even fully aware of the grasp you had on his heart, the sole being that held all of his affections and attention.

"Silva..! Please..! I need you to move..!"

You were mewling under him, gripping the sheets tightly as you whimpered and tightly closed your eyes. It was clear that you were in need of some kind of release and he was the only one who could provide it for you.

He wouldn't deny your breathy pleas, at least.

Starting with a slow tempo that built up to a near impossible speed, the bed creaked and complained loudly beneath you due to his unrelenting thrusts. You were in mind-numbing bliss and truly didn't care about the absolute racket you were making as you practically screamed out your moans, letting the sculpted man move your body as he pleased. Silva was in a similar state, lost to the pleasure of hearing your sweet moans as he buried himself inside of you.

He had yearned for such a sound for quite a bit now and your rejection of his affection over the past few years had left him nearly starved for you. Truly, there was only so much he was able to take when it came to resisting his physical need for your touch, wanting desperately to just hold you and have you cry out for him. He was finally able to feel your tight walls milk his hot cock and listen to your breathy moans, seeing you writhe in pleasure from the large cock buried inside of you.

"Tell me how much you love it. Tell me how much you love me. Scream it for me."

"Ngh-! Silva! I- fuck- I love it..! So big..! So damn good! Please! Please I need more!"

Despite the fact you did not say everything he wanted to hear, Silva continue to rut into you with fast angled thrusts that made you practically see stars. His grip on your hips was tight, but you didn't register anything other than that thick length moving inside of you wildly. Even as your eyes rolled back, you couldn't help the whining moans that wrenched from your throat fiercely.

The moment that pressure growing within you broke, you wailed out in a near tortured moan while pleasure washed over you for what felt like ages. The hot ropes of cum filling up your soft stomach only seemed to prolong the pleasure that ran through your veins, as if time itself stood still around you. When Silva finally pulled out of you, you collapsed on the bed and panted heavily, feeling almost too full as you moved to a much more comfortable position.

Silva's large arms wrapped around you and pulled you close, letting you sink into the warm heat that radiated from his sculpted figure. It was truly as if the two of you were just basking in the presence of one another all while you slipped back off into sleep, content with the warm figure that held you so close. Silva took longer to just enjoy the moment after finally getting to embrace you once more without any fear getting in the way.

For now, it seems he had managed to mend the scars of his egregious error and had you content to be with him once more.

~~~~~~~~

You lay on your side, curled up on the tile floor of your shared bathroom, trying to get the queasy feeling to subside enough to move. You honestly couldn't remember a time where you felt half as unwell as you did at that moment, feeling tears sting your eyes as your throat burned with exhaustion. At that point, all you really wanted was to sleep, but with the current exhausted state your body was in, you had no way of reaching the comfort of your bed or the warm embrace of your blankets.

The quiet sound of your door opening drew what little you had left of your attention span, hardly able to lift your head all that far from the tile as you attempted to rouse your body into an upright position. Despite your efforts, it was clear there was no way you were going to be able to sit up and so you simply remained on the cold tile as you awaited whomever had entered the room. To your vague surprise it was not Silva who came through the door, it was Zeno and he honestly seemed as if he hadn't expected to find you in the state you were currently in.

With a surprising gentleness, the elder came to your side and rest the back of his hand on your forehead. He seemed to have some level of honest concern as he gazed down at your exhausted form splayed out on the tile.

"Shall I go retrieve that useless doctor of yours?"

"... Please..."

It took more effort than you had expected to huff out that one word, feeling oddly cared for and respected simply for the fact he asked what you wanted instead of acting of his own accord. Silva would have never done that. He would have taken one look at your unwell state and practically ran to retrieve your kind doctor to have you checked for any cause that may explain your current position.

It didn't take long for him to send out word to have your doctor come to your room before he was back by your side. Truly, if there ever were a time you felt honest appreciation for your father in law, it would be at that exact moment. He could have easily left you to suffer alone on the tile and instead not only sent for help, but returned to your side to wait with you.

"Is there anything you need at this moment?"

"..."

You tried to form some kind of sentence to respond to him, but you felt as if the energy had just been ripped out of you as your eyes began to slowly close. A sharp snapping sound brought your attention back to the man before you who now seemed to almost be more than just concerned.

"No sleeping. Not yet. Do your best to remain awake, Brat."

The faintest of smiles pulled at your lips when you heard that name that he only used for those he felt responsible for as well as those he cared for. Zeno was an assassin through and through and was a proud man at that, but he did have some kind of emotions that were reserved for family and close friends of the family. He was cold and to the point with almost everyone, but he was far more gruff and pushy with those he actually cared about given the way he has had to live on where his wife had died delivering Silva.

It was the only way he knew how to show affection.

"Where..?"

"Silva? Just left on a job this morning. A long job. It should take him at the least a month, if not longer. Of course you would choose now of all days to fall ill, Brat."

"Not.. dead yet..."

A low huff of amusement came from the older man as he sighed and sat next to you on the floor, keeping you constant company despite having no obligation to do so.

"I'm not telling Silva about this until he gets back. You know as well as I do that he would leave the job the moment he heard you were unwell. That fool loves you more than even he realizes."

His words, though harsh, made complete sense to you. Often you had thought that Silva was far more obsessed with you than anyone else realized, given how you were one of the very few who ever saw his true nature without the trained restraint and cold tone he almost always had. He was mentally unwell due to his upbringing and obsessed with you beyond reason, and he believed his actions were justified due to his familial heritage when it came to what they considered to be love.

Maha lived through it. Zeno's father died from it. Zeno lived through it. Silva will die from it.

An insane love that compelled them to do all they could to obtain and keep the object of their affections, even going as far as kidnapping and imprisonment. Silva's sickness is worse than theirs had been, and he is the only one that managed to keep his darling- you- alive. They understood and accepted the obsession he had with you and were content to keep you in Silva's arms as long as possible.

The door to your room opened with a loud creak before Kikyo made her way into the bathroom where you lay. It was clear she moved in a much more rushed pace when she saw you laying on the tile shivering, not even needing to be told to start checking you. She was being much more gentle and seemed to be far more expressive than usual as she examined you with great care.

"It seems to me you may be pregnant again."

You felt surprise run through your veins, but that surprise dulled down for a moment as you recounted what it was like when you were pregnant with Illumi. It certainly made sense, especially given all that happened up to that point.

"If she is pregnant again, I need to have a chat with Silva about keeping his damn hands off her child this time."

"Yes, sir. Shall I contact-"

"Tell him and I'll make you wish you never even considered it to begin with."

~~~~Three Months~~~~

You sat next to Zeno as you remained curled up nice and cozy in your heated blanket, sharing it with the elder who kept you company thus far in your pregnancy. Silva was expected to return any day now and you both knew the absolute fit he would throw the moment he learned what his father had been keeping from him. At least you had some peace and quiet without Silva around for a good bit, though part of you figured he would never accept another long job seeing as something important had been kept from him because of it.

Regardless, you were comfortable and starting to doze off when an unexpected question snapped you awake.

"That doctor of yours, she's the one who set you free after Silva took Illumi from you, isn't she?"

Your surprise must have been clear on your face as Zeno simply nodded, not taking his eyes away from the large television screen you two had been watching. He didn't seem particularly surprised at the answer to his question, nor did he seem all that angry either. It was almost like he knew the whole time but still wanted you to confirm it before he accepted it as truth.

"Please don't-"

"I won't tell Silva. I figured that was the case when you had somehow managed to get out. There would have been no way for you to do it on your own and the only person who had access to you outside of the family was her. To tell you the truth, part of me had actually hoped that you would manage to get away. To escape this place."

"... Why?"

"Because in many ways you remind me of my own wife. Often I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't caught her after she escaped. If I hadn't hurt her as Silva did to you... Perhaps she would still be here today."

You were surprised to hear all of this, having been too worried of upsetting Zeno to ask about the fate of his wife. It seemed she had been in the same boat you were currently in, but it had killed her where you had managed to survive. Before you could ask any more questions about the mysterious woman Zeno spoke so rarely of, the door swung open with a familiar level of force that made you jump slightly in response.

Silva was home.

There wasn't even enough time for you to welcome him back before you were being pulled up into his large arms, feeling his forehead against your shoulder as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. His large hands easily cradled your body close to his own all while his lips roamed your soft skin feverishly. You were about to try and call out for him to stop for a moment before an old voice beat you to it.

"You can't fuck her, Silva."

"I can do what I wish with my wife, when I wish."

"Not while she's pregnant you can't."

All movement halted the moment Silva registered his father's words, tensing his entire body as he slowly came to terms with what he had been told. Silva moved rather slowly as he positioned you to be cradled in one of his large arms, his hand coming up to rest against your stomach which had already begun to swell up. He almost seemed to be in a trance while he stayed statue-still, sorting out both his thoughts and emotions on the realization.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Silva's voice was a deep and angered growl in his chest, sending shivers down your spine due to your proximity to the very man who could quite easily snap at any moment. Zeno seemed mostly unfazed by the aggressive growl and instead took to observing his sharp nails as if he were bored with the situation he found himself in. You really had to admire the old man's lack of fear while facing off with Silva, who you feared more than you cared to admit.

"Because you would have abandoned your job and that would be a terrible reflection on the Zoldyck family."

"She's been pregnant this whole time and you didn't damn well tell me?"

"Watch your tone, Brat. She's alive, isn't she?"

"How long have you known?"

"Since the very day you left. That morning was when she first began showing signs."

You felt the tension in Silva's body rise to near extreme levels, letting out a sharp cry as his grasp around your soft body tightened past the point of comfort. Your cry made Silva calm immediately and loosen his grasp so he no longer held you quite as tight. That cry seemed to have caused a temporary lapse in Silva's anger as he treated you with extreme care and gently set you back on the couch, giving you a quick once-over to check for any injuries he may have caused.

"Never again."

You looked up in confusion at Silva's lowly growled words, wondering just what he was talking about.

"I'll never leave you for that long again, I swear it."

~~~Six Months~~~

You lay in complete relaxation under your warm blanket, spooning a wonderfully soft pillow all while you dozed lightly on the couch. If anything, this pregnancy was far more... Relaxed... Than your first one had been. Silva seemed to be taking extra care to show nothing but the utmost affection towards you and your child during this whole ordeal and honestly it was doing wonders for you.

You still had that internal need to shield your stomach and your baby from the man who had caused all of this in the first place. This meant his caution around you and extra positive attention towards your unborn infant was all your brain needed to feel more secure in your fragile state even though such a dangerous man lurked nearby at all times. Silva got you anything you could possibly want the moment you brought it up regardless of what time it was or what he happened to be doing at the time you mentioned it.

Whatever food you wanted was immediately made and sent straight to you. If you wanted more blankets you need only shiver before countless blankets were being piled on top of you. Any vague sign of discomfort and Silva was immediately doing everything in his power to ease your troubles in whatever way he could.

You even got to see your first-born Illumi more than a few times as the young boy's presence soothed you immensely as did his sweet curiosity. Illumi may show little to no emotion, but what little he did show he only did so while near you. You could only smile at the memory of Illumi's large and curious eyes staring up at you questioningly while he rest his cheek against your swollen stomach.

"But how did it get in there?"

"Eh... I'll tell you when you're older, okay?"

"Okay. Hey, Mama?"

"Yes, Sweetheart?"

"I promise to take care of any little siblings I get to have."

"That's very sweet of you, Illumi, thank you, my darling."

"Anything for you, Mama."

Despite the odd behavior and almost frightening temper of your first-born, you felt more at ease than you had given the fact that you knew your son would always be on your side regardless of what may happen. Even with his cold demeanor, Illumi showed true affection for you and seemed rather insistent that you have nothing to worry about when it came to the future of your unborn child. At least you felt as if Silva learned his lesson to not take your children away from you too early as well as learning just what a positive impact your son has on you.

You were taking a rather wonderful and deep nap after getting to spend some time with Illumi and had recently awoken, content to just lay still and let yourself slowly wake up. The slow and gentle sound of footsteps drew your attention from hazy thoughts into sharp clarity, listening for whomever they belonged to. A large hand against your stomach almost made you tense up in fear, but the gentle way it lay against your skin kept you relaxed and calm.

"If you kill her, I will come for you next."

Cold jolted down your spine as you heard the low growled words against your stomach. Silva didn't often talk to your stomach or the life within unless it was to appease some request you made or to simply cheer you up. You were well aware that Silva would not handle your untimely demise in the slightest given just how distraught he would be at any idea of you being taken away from him.

You needed to keep your baby safe. But you felt like it was a near impossible task due to Silva hovering around you almost constantly. He certainly didn't take your condition lightly and considering how he received the news months after you did, you knew he refused to spend even an hour away from your side.

To some degree you appreciated the knowledge that nothing from outside of the estate could hurt you, but you also feared the fact that your husband took his 'protector' role rather seriously and could easily cause harm to you. He always said he wouldn't and yet you felt like you knew better, especially after your first several years with him. His lowly growled out words chilled you to your core and you only hoped that he would be in a much better mood once the child was safely out of you.

~~~~ 9 1/2 Months ~~~~

When the hell was it going to end!? You head read of some pregnancies lasting up to as long as a year, but you were getting more than a little tired and Silva's patience was near nonexistent.

"That rat is NOT allowed to keep you for so long. It's coming out today."

"Silva, for once would you just let me do things my way and decide what to do?"

"I am done waiting for it to come out on its own."

"What exactly do you plan to do?"

"Get the doctors to induce labor or just cut it out of you already."

"Would you just-"

You went cold and silent as a familiar feeling washed over you, feeling a slowly growing and rolling contraction beginning to tug at your insides. The panic in your expression seemed to tell him that something had happened and he immediately dropped the subject in favor of tending to you. You were barely aware of what seemed to be going on around you as another wave of dizziness washed over you along with a rather piercing contraction.

Silva stayed with you through it all, refusing to leave even as you were rushed into the delivery room. There was not one moment that passed that Silva wasn't letting you grip as tightly as you needed to his hand, speaking in a low rumble that he only reserved for rare moments of sensitivity.

Everything was primarily a blur to you, passing by in seconds that lasted hours and hours that lasted seconds. So when you finally heard that cry and a faint congratulations, you were already blacking out far too quickly to respond as your entire body achingly tried to reduce the tension in your over worked muscles.

Silva's heart rate jacked through the roof as you went limp in his arms, clearly something having gone wrong during delivery. The honest desperation in not only his actions, but in his very being seemed to leech out any other emotion, his eyes never leaving your face all while the doctor and nurses scrambled around you to do what they could. Silva had dealt with being alone while growing up and never wanted to experience it again, the simple idea of losing you causing the most blood-thirsty aura to spill from him.

If the sheer intimidation wasn't enough to get the medical staff working desperately, that cold glare Silva had locked them with sure as hell would be. There were no questions as to the nature of the consequences they face should they fail, the presence of the dangerous man only serving to add more stress unto the delivery room. The infant had been taken away somewhere quiet and safe so the doctor and nurses could focus on your suddenly poor condition, knowing that their only chance of survival was ensuring you survived.

Silva refused to move or leave or even look away from you before the doctor was able to say confidently that you would live. Even after that time came and passed as you were brought back to a stable condition, Silva had no intention to ever leave your side.

Thanks to the fact his father kept your condition a secret on favor of Silva completing a job, Silva refused to be away from you for any longer than a few days from then on. No more month long jobs that required him to leave you for large chunks of time, now he was committed to staying by your side as often as he possibly could. He adored you and honestly figured heirs weren't worth the risk of you dying, resolving to remove any pregnancy that may occur before you became aware of it.

Two was already too many for him. He didn't want to share you with anyone, but at least the two boys will keep his father off his back about continuing the family line.

He could deal with the brats, so long as everyone knew you were his. He adored you and kidnapped you just so he could get close to you, there's no way he would give you up for anything in the world. You were his world, and ue would protect you until the bitter end.

[chaoswithinstars]

fallen from grace [Tomioka G.]

CW: blood, biting, demon!reader, dom!reader

When you were turned into a demon, Giyuu was certain you would be like the rest of them. He had no hope and was fully prepared to take your life, to end your suffering as a bloodthirsty animal but you ran, faster and stronger because of your human blood still racing through your veins. He searched for you, interrogated other demons for years until he stopped seeing the point. Giyuu tried so hard not to think of you, pushing his memories of your time together into the furthest reaches of his mind until he met the siblings, seen the girl protect her human brother. That tiny flame of hope Giyuu tucked away in his soul became a wildfire and all thoughts of you came rushing back along with heartbreaking yearning for your gentle touch.

He started searching once again, efforts tripled until he finally found you. He found you at a lakeside, sitting on a mossy rock and humming a familiar tune. You looked like a goddess, framed by idyllic forest and the fireflies dancing in the night. You didn't change much. Your hair was longer, tips crimson, your eyes were no longer that brilliant shade you loved the most as a human but you were still all soft curves and gentle smiles. You looked at him as if he was all that you've been waiting for, like he was the one who ran away.

Giyuu has always been a good man. Silent, strong and smart, talented with a sword. He was admirable but somewhat oblivious to how other people perceived him. Not to you though. With you, he couldn't hide himself, shove back his desires and darkest thoughts. With you, Giyuu let himself sink into depravity. Maybe it was your demon nature or maybe it was because he remembered you from before- bright smiles, silver tongue and strength hidden beneath a fluffy exterior. Giyuu didn't know nor did he particularly care. Especially now that he has finally found you.

"You're beautiful." Giyuu didn't know what prompted him to break the silence nor why those were the first words to come from his mouth. He was enchanted by your appearance, by your graceful movements as you beckoned him closer. You were still humming that alluring tune, voice so lovely that it resonated somewhere deep in his soul, settling down what little urge to kill you he had.

Maybe it's your presence, that enchanting voice or the alluring scents of nature (of you) that made Giyuu drop all of his walls down. After all, most of his life has been spent in search of you and now that he found you… Why couldn't he let himself enjoy this moment of happiness, a moment so rare in the life of a demon slayer? Giyuu reached out towards you and you took Giyuu's hands in yours, pulling him closer and into your embrace. His lovely blue eyes traced each part of your face, memorizing that which he was already familiar with from a lifetime before. Giyuu was warm in your arms, sinking against your body like a doll whose strings were cut off. You smiled, lips framing your sharp teeth.

"And you're looking as tasty as ever, slayer." Your words made Giyuu's thoughts swim, disconnected. He could not think of anything else but you, making you happy, giving everything he is to you. "I've watched you, little mouse, seen you fight my kind and it made me ravenous."

Giyuu shuddered at your words and yet did nothing. He let you nuzzle his neck, lick a strip up to his jaw. You nibbled on his soft skin, tempting yourself with a taste of his flesh. And yet, Giyuu wasn't afraid. He yearned for more, for a revival of heated memories when you two were the same, when you were both human and weak, equal before the gods.

"It isn't often that a snack enters my den all by himself. Usually, there's more of you wretched humans disturbing my oasis." You speak, breath warm and tickling Giyuu's ear. Your hands pull him onto your lap, making him straddle you. Giyuu looks down at you, brain foggy from all sensations you brought on. "But you, little mouse, you're different. Makes me want to keep you like a good pet."

Giyuu allows you to pull him in for a kiss. It's hunger and fire, consuming him until he feels like nothing will be left of him. He grabs onto your shoulders, nails digging into your clothes as he struggles with himself, with the instincts urging him to rut against you, to moan and beg. Your claws slice through his clothes with ease, baring his skin to the cool air, to your own wandering hands. Giyuu gasps, ripping his mouth away from yours, out of breath. Your name echoes off the trees as you lavish his neck and chest with licks and bites, leaving marks on his pale skin. You break skin with your teeth on his chest, drawing blood. He whimpers as you lick it up then suck on the tiny wound. It's odd and dangerous but still a thrill Giyuu doesn't want to miss out on.

"What a good boy you are." It's a coo, a praise wrapped in a patronizing tone Giyuu usually hated but didn't mind now because it came from you. "Such a good snack, not struggling when I indulge a little taste."

You look into his eyes as your touches become more daring, lips still smiling even as your eyes devoured all of Giyuu's reactions. Giyuu's head fell back once you grasped his dick, fingers wrapping almost too hard around his length but a little pain was good as long as you were touching him.

"Look at me." You commanded and Giyuu obeyed immediately, eyes wide at your harsh tone. He didn't want you to be mad, to stop the movements of your hand. "What kind of a slayer are you? Wanting to fuck a demon of all things. You're messed up, aren't you? Don't worry, I won't tell, it's our little secret."

Giyuu felt his eyes tear up. It's been years since he last cried but your words struck a cord even as he felt pleasure from your hand and the tone of your voice. He felt so ashamed of himself. Indeed, what kind of a slayer was he?

"Are you going to cry, little mouse?" You laughed, hand moving faster over his dick. "I wonder what your friends would say if they could see you now. They'd probably laugh at you. Or maybe some would join me in my fun and we could all have a turn with you."

Giyuu whimpered, teeth clenched over his lips. The thoughts you put in his head were tempting, far too much for him.

"You're so close, aren't you?" You ask, knowing full well that it won't take long before Giyuu broke apart. "Don't worry, you can cum whenever you want."

Giyuu fucked into your fist, enjoying the squeeze of your fingers, every teasing pass over his leaking head, your demeaning yet arousing words. It didn't take that long for him to spill all over your hand, making a mess. A mess you happily fed to him until there was nothing left.

"On your knees, slayer." You ordered, pushing him out of your lap to his knees. Giyuu watched as you stripped, showing yourself off and he wondered what he did to deserve such a treat. Your body seemed to glow with some inner light, once again reminding Giyuu of a goddess. You were terrifying in your beauty and all Giyuu could think of was worshiping every inch of your being. "Good boy."

You sat back on your rock, straightening your left leg until your foot was on Giyuu's shoulder and he placed his trembling hand on your joint. He could feel your eyes on him as he kissed your leg, slowly moving upward until your knee was hooked over his shoulder. Giyuu looked up at you, eyes seeking permission to go further and a moan broke from him as you nodded. He dived in between your legs, arms over your thighs as he kissed then licked and sucked at all the right places of your pussy. Your taste was exquisite, like ambrosia sent down from heavens. Your scent was heady and your soft sighs like music to him.

You praised him, one hand gentle in his hair, pushing him further into you. Giyuu thought that he could die right now, with no regrets, just because he made you feel like this. You were so wet, so warm and sweet… Giyuu couldn't get enough. You cried out when his fingers, rough from sword handling, entered you, moving first slowly then faster until you were grinding against Giyuu's face, panting as you came closer to the edge. Giyuu looked up at you from between your legs, eyes focused on the ecstasy on your face. He curled his fingers inside of you, pressing against that spongy spot inside of you and your thighs locked around his head, keeping him still as you rode out your orgasm.

You hunch over him, pulling his head from between your legs, cradling his face in a gentle hold. Giyuu knows that he probably looks a mess from your arousal, face wet and red, but it was worth the sweet look in your eyes and hunger on your face. He'd let you devour him whole if only that was his last memory.

You push him down, sinking to your knees and straddling his hips. Your hands caress his chest, fingers curling and your claws leave red lines on his skin. Another mark Giyuu would be happy to carry on into his next life. He's out of words and breath when you sink onto him, taking him to the deepest reaches of your body and all he can do is hold onto your hips as you ride him hard and fast. Giyuu knows that you're just using him, that he should be happy that you gave him the honour of feeling your wet heat grip his dick, clench around him.

"Thank you, thank you…" The words tumble out of his mouth, unbidden but truthful. He cums when you laugh at him, when your clawed hand wraps around his throat, squeezing ever so lightly.

You continued riding him, drawing tears from his pretty eyes from overstimulation. You ride him until you've milked him dry and got your fill of ecstasy. A growl rips from somewhere deep in your chest as you cum, grinding down on him to get those little aftershocks of pleasure. Your hand moves from Giyuu's throat, fingers chasing sweat drops on his chest. You lie down on top of him, humming that same tune from before.

Giyuu doesn't particularly care that your teeth are close to his jugular, that you're splitting open his skin to lick up his blood. All he knows and wants is to stay with you, surrounded by your warmth.

"Poor little slayer." You murmur into Giyuu's ear, voice filled with pity and something else Giyuu cannot comprehend. "So many desires unspoken, so many wishes not coming through. Do not worry, I'll take care of you."

The slayer never noticed the miasma descending around you two, just closed his eyes as you sang him to sleep. He looked like a doll as you picked him up, body limp as you carried him up into the trees. You set him up among many other humans in your den but took special care to preserve him.

"My little mouse." You purred, caressing Giyuu's face, tracing his lips. "I'll be good to you, no one will ever find you or hurt you here."

[howtodestroyacharacter]

Because I think Ogata Hyakunosuke's death is the result of "tight deadlines"

In case you didn't understand, I really like the character of Ogata.

A few months ago while I was looking for information on another manga I found myself discovering Golden Kamuy.

I state that the first fragments almost always offered me the couple Sugimoto and Asirpa.

 Sugimoto has always seemed to me a character of little depth. In 8 years he has basically remained unchanged.

 I was very impressed with Tsurumi, who in the course of the reading turned out to be a very good and very multifaceted and sad villain. A tragic figure who, with the passing of the chapters, has shown himself to be more complex than he is.

 And then Ogata. a deliberately enigmatic character difficult to understand.

 I got to notice that in the fandom he is either loved or hated. I haven't seen half measures.

Yet he is also a tragic character.

 For "haters";) Ogata is not a:

 • immoral

• antisocial

• asocial

• psychopath

• sociopath

as he does not comply with the requirements of ICD 10 in order to be defined and recognized as such. (ICD 10 "International Statistical Classification of Diseases and Related Health Problems")

After this explanation I arrive to say why I personally believe that Ogata's death, and not only his death, is part of a hasty closure of the manga. If we go to see the last chapters we see that the whole narrative arc that starts from the arrival in Fort Goryōkaku to the death of Ogata take place in less than 24 hours.

 I understand that the release of each chapter can make you lose track of time but I think it is important to remember that everything that is happening happens in less than a day.

 Not only. From chapter 300 to chapter 310 it all probably happens in less than 1 hour.

Asirpa's group is at Station Kikyo when they get on the train and the train heads to Hokodate Station… between the two points are less than 10 kilometers apart, about 6 miles. A steam train reaches a maximum of 130 km / h, let's pretend that it goes much slower, since Ogata himself gets on the moving train abandoning the horse he was on and a horse reaches a maximum of 80 km / h.

Let's assume that the horse has reached a maximum speed of 50 kilometers and let's pretend that despite the Ogata boycott the train has never gone beyond these 50 kilometers per hour ... but how long can it take a train at that speed to travel less than 10 kilometers of speed. distance???

So in about 15 minutes we have a character who before getting on the train was able to act consistently and "worked" in a self-preservative way and as soon as he gets on the train he becomes an idiot who behaves in an anticonservative way and who continues to make mistakes in his actions. ? I fly over the hallucinations since we are talking about a person who at his first appearance in the narrative path suffered a very serious brain trauma and who in episode 310 was also hit by an arrow impregnated with poison.

Well. Why do I think it's a quick close?

 I think Golden Kamuy is a wonderful manga. Excellent care in the drawings and in the accuracy of the setting. Many fans in many countries. This gave the possibility to turn the manga into an anime. But I think, personal idea I have not had any feedback and if anyone can give me information about it I would be grateful, that it has not achieved the desired success. In Italy it is almost unknown. If I have to refer to the news that I find online, I must say that even in Anglo-Saxon countries it seems to me to be a niche product.

 In short. Excellent but outside certain areas it is hard to find material and fans. I don't know how plausible my theory is. But I believe that the speed of closing this story, with many characters leaving leaving some questions of the narrative pending, has an answer for me in this personal guess. Returning to Ogata this sudden and ridiculous tragic disappearance, (I am not fully convinced that he is dead and in Golden Kamuy we have more than one character who survived in a daring way) will find in some narrative artifice the way to answer the many questions and situations that remained unresolved, without need his physical presence.

Because he had allied himself with Kiriranke.

What happened to his grandparents (a reiteration of the particular relationship between Ogata and the elderly is a fact that deserves an answer).

Why he ended up working for Central.

Why at 15 he was in Russia with Tsurumi.

 And other situations that require an answer for such an important character in the story.

Time is short. And leaving these things unanswered only gives (to me) the impression of a hasty closure. Constructive comments are appreciated. Thanks and greetings 

[rumblelibrary]

The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1  -  Chapter 2

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and sex. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: The story is placed between season 1 and season 2. Thank you for everyone that encouraged me to keep going. I have to wait for my local drop of serotonin to get fully Laszloed to go through this.

Lyra’s Contellation, Illustration taken from Uranographia by Johann Bode

Routine. Routine is comfort. Habit stabilises the character.

If you follow a routine, you won’t ever be victim of imprudence, of evil jokes of fate. The stability earned through calculated and repeated actions brings a sense of fulfilment that forbids other thoughts to come bashing in, breaking rules, breaking hopes that a solid scheduled routine forbids to have. I take my time to begin this week, I planned the things to do, the next steps for the case, the people to meet, the resources I am allowed to contemplate. I feel good, I feel back to myself and the events of the weekend seem far from me and my own perception. I probably got ahead of myself, carried by some instinctual though and random rush of emotion, to be always in contact with the same people and mostly kids probably doesn’t help my stance in the presence of other adults. I feel silly now reading back the last page, I felt tempted to tear it off, but to keep it there should be a small memento of not losing my temper so easily. I read it over and over and I know I am not as charmed as I thought I was. I am just lonely. I have always been and it is normal to face ups and downs even for a man of my age who is more accustomed to it.  To desire a partner is a natural instinct, to find somebody attractive is meant by nature, it is the body calling for the natural fulfilment of the reason we are put on this very Earth.  But even in a state of nature my own condition would be forbidding me to be part of the natural process of growing my own kind. I am the type of male that would be excluded because of his impossibility to give the protection to the pack, therefore it is just more reasonable to me to adapt to my condition. No matter what my Potentia generandi might be (the ability to procreate).

With all the smugness that characterises him, Niki showed off that he passed my challenge. But to be really of an help to his antics I didn’t show any kind of surprise. I treated him like he did the bare minimum, like he didn’t prove me any kind of superiority. He has a natural attitude toward challenging the figure of power, he is trying to overpower me, but I won’t satisfy his need. I have noticed he has a very technical brain, he finds ways to solve problems in ingenious way and not by throwing himself into the task. I proceeded giving him to work on a clock, an old broken one we had in the institute, one of the kids hit it with a ball years ago and nobody ever worked on repairing it. I gave him the clock, a couple of screwdrivers and a book. He called me a number of German names I won’t transcribe, but it gave me a certain amount of satisfaction. If my intuitions are right, I am sure the clock will be repaired by next week.

Analysis of the victim’s body through John’s eyes. The drawings and sketches are as detailed as I requested, all of this thanks to you joining him. I deal with art critic section, I am used to notice these things. You assure me, you play yourself low and I wonder why, nevertheless you did notice things neither John or I did, which pleased me. It fooled me, distracted me from my purpose to not give in to your witchery, as I leaned closer watching your pale hand move across the pages tracing this or that line, showing how this must be done with the killer on this side and not that side, with words so deliciously elaborate, your way of composing your speech is compelling, you could sell the drawing of a kid like it was a Botticelli. I noticed the shape of your hands, the way you move them, I wonder if you play an instrument, or played, some habits just stick with you through life. I focused on taking notes, your ideas and instructions giving me a new point of view, a new stimulus. What if that is the only way the killer can communicate? Or what if this is the communication that works for him? Could our killer be mute or deaf? Or that’s how society made him feel? This man, or woman, needs a listener and I am afraid that now, since he got our attention and the public’s, he won’t stop. Another killing could be just as close.

Scheduled: meeting with the parents of Alex Garel for new admission, Monday next week at 11 am. Love at first is a fetish and like all fetishes it is based onto an object that hides a deeper meaning, like gloves mean hands, to love at first sight means to see somebody that you think, and think only, to have the chance to share not only a sensual kind of bond, but an intellectual. Love at first sight is based onto not knowing someone well enough, but having the time to idealise most of that someone. I can see why I feel this attraction, using a particular phrase that Sara often mutters when investigating: you tick all the boxes. I know you do, your beauty is everything but conventional, you’re the kind of face that painters would paint and musicians would write hymns about, but any animal on the street would never be allowed to see. You have the grace of the body and the fire in the eyes, and then you speak. When you speak, I realise, you could bring the world to its knees. Also, you never speak out of context, and if you do it is to ease somebody’s position. You do it often with John or with Stevie, you say something really silly in order to put them back to a place of comfort. Some women would call it self deprecating, but I see that you only pick wisely your fights and your wins. You don’t need to earn your peace and quiet by neglecting, but by lifting up the others. I wonder if you do it with me too, if your silences are just you allowing me to be in a better place while instead your judgment is tearing me apart. I shouldn’t care, but I keep wondering, sometimes I take my time to answer you, I analyse every shade, every peculiarity of your question, I am looking for sarcasm, for a condescending voice, for something to hang on and bare you open. To prove myself you’re not perfect. But deep down I know that you do, you judge me and you do well.

Mother never said so. That’s what one of the girls in my care said today. Ursula. She is tough. Skin as thick as an alligator and the tendency to pull her own hair at night or when under a massive amount of stress, enuresis alongside erratic episodes of mutism. I tried the soft approach, it didn’t work. She is too accustomed to be indulged. Therefore today I pushed her a bit overboard, I teased her over opinions on the female body, the female role, she is only 12, but she is soon to bleed, she knows, I can tell from the way she clenches to her skirts, from the way she looks at me as a threatening figure. I am the incarnation of danger to her. Under her steady silence, I pushed a bit more, asking how her mother taught her to be nice and submissive. Does her mother tells her she is going to be a good wife? The phrase, which I reported at the top of the page, surprised me.  What is her mother teaching to her then? What closed her so much, locked her soul away, making a small bird like this choose the silence and the retirement of self inflicted pain over, what? Mankind? Or just Men? Is that even a curse? Should I cure her from a truth that her own mother whispered to her ear one night before bed and made a child decide that the world wasn’t a place to share her time with? Am I the man supposed to teach her that men are worth of trust? In the eyes of modern society, who measures its own value over the modesty of the women, she would be a champion, but at what price? I can’t in any way let her parents bring her back home after our recent meetings. Nevertheless, I have to make up my own mind on how to give her troubled soul ease without making her believe in fables. I, as a man, regard myself not worth of any of the trust they expect me to teach her.

In all of my years practicing with people’s feelings and traumas, I challenged myself to find those same traumas within my own mind. It is a tricky game, terrible, anguishing at times. But it straightens me, the pain of others, the pain of kids mostly, so unadulterated and pure, breaks the curtain between me and the lies that I often surround myself with. Pain is made of method, you can open it up, you can scrutinise it, part it piece by piece dividing it in sectors and, partitions, centre part, side part, heart of the problem. Pain is reliable. Happiness is not. It is random, cruelly sudden, unexpected, it washes over you in such deflecting way only to leave you alone a moment after ashamed and alone. I saw you again today. You were in a table full of what I could only guess as your former university colleagues, I saw pain in you, not heavy but constant. Annoyance, a bit of sadness. Your head titling on side and your eyes drifting on the left, you’re imagining something away from them.  A place? An object? Or maybe someone? Your hands play circles at the bottom of the flute of your drink like kids do, your smile only one sided. I don’t see you speak at all, only listen.  What could keep your voice down? I almost gulped down my own breath as you looked up and I realised how I must have looked. I was having lunch on my own, in a very private table and even entertaining myself with a newspaper on the side. I wish you didn’t, but you came over, your eyes shining.  Did I save you? Or maybe I was just a good excuse to leave that painful meeting behind. Don’t be so nice to me, it is not healthy. Don’t look at me like you expect anything more from me than me listening. I won’t smile back at you, I won’t give you care, attentions or thought. I won’t lean for your perfume, I won’t obsess over that dress you wore, that pin that adorned your neckline keeping your undershirt in place, a silver robin, I remember. I won’t remember the number of the buttons on the side of your glove, three. I won’t observe the little moles just under your ear. A small constellation, I later realised, hidden between your ear and the beginning of your neck. I don’t need to check in my books. It is a constellation. It is Lyra. Why? Why you must be like this? Are you the Lyra? Are you the instrument of Orpheus come to me to drag me out of Hell? The Tartarus holds my soul and you should know already, I am not worth the quarter part of Eurydice to be saved and she never came back anyway. I won’t be now recollecting the way your teeth sunk in the inner side of your cheek when you apologised for the annoyance.  You apologised twice, I ignored you both times with a raised hand to request peace and silence. I am not letting you in.

Reserved: Tickets for Wednesday’s evening Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi. The guest female lead promises a beautiful show.

Leonardo, as I am learning through Paul Valery essay, is who I would define as a figure of projective identification of the Subject or, to better explain it, of the knowledge of the Subject that formed and grew through the use of sketches in the experience of the Artist. I have always thought that the finest form of art was the representation of knowledge duly undressed by any personal identification. Leonardo, instead, proceeded to represent the figure through the essence of the artist, a representation technically unlimited on objects and symbols and that keep expressing the transformation and development of Leonardo’s own being.Some artists are testimony of the destruction of the world, of the loss of eternal beauty over decadence. And then you have Leonardo, who creates an art that is the gravity of the world’s system, of the nature, of thoughts and abstractions. I wonder if our killer does the same, if the way they presents the victim through their own personal view, if what we can read there it is their stories, their pains, their needs. Their happiness and troubles. What are they trying to tell me?  I need to know, I need to know to save a life, of course, but I also need to know to be able to sleep at night. Hair, hair are the epitome of femininity in any era. I keep studying Ursula and her habit to pull the. I took notes on it: she picks them by the bottom, slowly separates them until she gains an amount her mind defines satisfactory and then she rolls her finger and pulls, she does it until her finger is empty and there are no hair left. I find her process incredibly interesting. In men’s case the display of physical attributes is not as vital, a beard can be appreciated but does not modify the power of seduction of a grown man. On the contrary, for women hair are a vital part of their attractiveness toward the opposite sex, society sees the hair of a woman as part of their vital characteristics, also in ancient times for a woman to cut her hair or have her hair cut was a sign of deep separation from the society. Only heroines or whores wore that mark and the association of the two is so rooted into the way society always parted the role of a woman in two that it is nauseating to think of. I am still fearing to let Ursula go away, the repulsion that she is showing toward her own body makes it difficult even for me to crack her shell open as a man, but my deepest worry is when that hate will take a scarier and deeper tool on her. How a girl with such  a fear of what her body can do, like sex or pregnancy, can endure in the future to have an husband? Or even to be courted by anyone?

John is helpless and I admire him for that. He doesn’t hide it, he just is. He is vulnerable and exposed, he is an open well bursting with doubts and feelings and troubled waters. He is genuine in a way I could never be. Maybe that’s why I despise even more him talking about you, how he sees you every morning, how you greet everybody, how you behave even with interns, how you like your coffee.  Your talents, your wits, how you said this and acted like that and reasoned through him. How you forbid him to drink even when he felt tempted. How you stayed late over to help him collect all the informations I requested him to get. To him. Not to you. The evil demon of envy scratching in the back of my head screaming like a siren out in the sea, he demands to be heard, he demands to be allowed a part in this game. I won’t allow him that. I won’t allow myself any of that. This is a pure game of chess, if I give in a pawn now, I will lose my knight, and I know it. I advice him to not be so closed minded when he praises you, only to get surprised by the charms of a natural logical mind. I find a way to hurt him, he is an easy target, I look at him as his eyebrows twitch and he summons his patience on me. He lost the plot about you already, his bruised pride taking over. You won’t come into my life.

“Un dì, felice, eterea, mi balenaste innante, e da quel dì tremante vissi d'ignoto amor.”  (“On a day, happy and ethereal, you appeared in front of me and from that day, trembling, I lived on an unknown love”)

The words of Alfredo in the first act of the Traviata keep running through me, a chant that won’t let me go, almost painful. The Opera House, that was my hiding place, a place where in plain sight I could let out myself, unleash. The catharsis of the characters involved running through me, I didn’t need anything but their voices and those musical instruments to let out my fears, doubts and anger. When Alfredo came to the scene tonight, the lights were strong and slightly pinkish, the performer bursting out of the seams with passion. My eyes diverted only to see you there. Alone. Those blinding lights gave you the the radiance of a vision singing the notes of greek myths and heroes, that dark blue evening clothing rang through my eyes like it was a bright yellow, the little shiny details that adorned you so clear against the heavy lighting to look like transparent pieces of water collected to adorn your beauty. I wasn’t me, but Alfredo, and I was helpless against you sitting so far and yet too close from me. I was naked in front of thousands. I am aware of the effect you have on me and our last conversation was barely regarded as one. This is infatuation, this is the pure work of a lonely mind and not something worth of any of all the words that I am dissipating here. Yet. I saw you cry at the climax of the opera, Violetta, the protagonist, heartbroken falling on stage consumed by pain and regret for her lost love and ultimate sacrifice. Your eyes shone as you tried to hide the tears and collect yourself. Through my binoculars, I saw your throat tremble and gulp down something more than just a sigh of pain. Your jaw clenched, your gloved hand moves to hide your shaking lips. I reckon, I have never seen such sad lips look more inviting. You look at the wall on your side breathing through your nose and not even that can save you by the strength of the voice of the soprano. You’re defeated and so you brought a fine silk handkerchief to your eyes, your shoulders bent inward in self defence.  The Opera won. It won you like it always wins me. I wonder if you felt like this because of a past lover, somebody that broke your heart and made you feel wrong in any way.  And because of that little wonder it is even more clear to me why I am a man worth of no trust. Because for a moment, I know, I wished to be the one that broke your heart. That gave you just the pain you’re inflicting on me so mercilessly by offering intoxicating kindness and beauty.  To own your thoughts, tears and shame. To be the one man you have to look away from. I want to own all of that and, maybe, I will be freed of you the day you’ll be just another human being that hates Dr Laszlo Kreizler.

Tagged @cazzyimagines​ @lieutenantn​ @handmaiden-of-mischief​ @thesunflowersutra​ @zemomybeloved​​ @fictionlandslanddreams​ @charistory​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @apparrio​ @hb8301​ @whatawildone​

Let me know if you want to get tagged too <3

[sirensmojo]

"KINDRED",6 - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff, Plot(s), Tommy & Reader being bitches

Summary: You're a reconverted ex war-nurse and join forces with Thomas Shelby to cut the head of the Fascist serpent, Oswald Mosley.

Word Count: 4.8K

A/N: This is the end of the Serie guys... The next part is the epilogue. II Gina's family is totally OC & It's Tommy POV.

*Masterlist*

❰ ​Previous Chapter

“I dreamt about a black cat,” Tommy went to sit down next to you, he was so close to you that your shoulders were touching, to his greatest pleasure.

After Polly left him, he stayed in his office for what seemed to be hours. It was his thirst for whiskey that hurried him to leave the room, and after he wandered in Small Heath’s streets & pubs, he conceded to do what he wanted to do since Pol left his office, see Y/N.

She was now in front of him, intently looking into his blue iris while remaining silent, a sign that she was waiting for him to continue.

“Thought it was Michael,” he raised a brow, “You told me it was Gina.” He pointed to her with his hand that was holding his cup of whiskey.

“Now Polly resigned.” He scoffed to himself. He couldn’t believe it was true that she left the company. And the worst part was that she was leaving to be on his enemy's side, Michael’s.

“Resigned?” Y/N raised her brows, quite surprised by the revelation.

Tommy didn’t answer, too occupied looking at the void in front of him. The woman didn’t know the Shelby family for quite long, but they seemed close. It was hard for her to understand the actual situation, and it’s in her head that she was making the additions to fill in the blanks in Thomas’s speech.

“She joined with Michael?” She concluded fast enough to catch Tommy desperately looking at her. It wasn’t simple to read his face, but she was used to him now, and their intimacy made it easier for her to see that Tommy was truly hurt by the event.

Y/N was seated on her knees, turned toward the Peaky head with one elbow at the top of the sofa and her chin in her palm. Her free hand was fidgeting with the tassels of her dress.

It was what Tommy firstly saw when she got out of the car ten minutes ago.

They arrived at her manor at the same time, both of their vehicles facing the other. Tommy got one hand onto his gun that was in his shoulder holster under his suit and Y/N was holding a rifle she kept on the passenger seat.

It was only when they turned off the headlights and that their stare connected that their bodies relaxed, the tension being replaced by the desire to possess the other.

Once out of the car, Tom couldn’t look at anything else other than the dress the Y/E/C eyed woman was wearing, it was a form-hugging grey satin one that reached her knees with a split on one of her legs, revealing some more skin.

At each of her actions, the tassels would move to accompany her figure, which mesmerized Tommy who forgot the reason for his coming.

She lifted her hand to Tom’s arm, squeezing it gently to reassure him. She didn’t want to use words as she knew he didn’t admit to himself that he was hurt. Y/N remained silent a little more before an idea crossed her mind.

“There is going to be a meeting, Tommy. A last one.”

He exhaled deeply and lifted his stare to her, intrigued by the confidence in the woman’s voice. She knew what he was thinking and nodded to him, “A family meeting. I will take the lead. I know exactly where to hit.” Her fingers slide to Tom’s hand as she was brushing the tip of her fingers on his skin.

The blue-eyed man wasn’t saying anything, but unlike any other time, he wasn’t deep in thought, this time, he was trying to read Y/N’s face. He knew she was ready for anything and ready to do everything, but the question remaining was, what?

What did she have in mind this time?

“Did you free Gina?” Tom suddenly asks, with everything that was happening he almost forgot that Y/N abducted his cousin’s wife to get rid of the couple after they treated Tommy’s status in the company.

She shook her head, “I did not do such a thing,” she raised her eyebrows with excitement, “Do you want to know our plan?” She shifted position, straightening back on her knees with both her hands on her thighs.

Tommy knew her, when she was this excited it didn’t presage anything good, and by the fire burning behind her iris, he knew he was right. “Please.” He agreed.

“Michael Gray, Polly Gray, Mr Rice & me, in the family meeting.” A faint smile appeared at the corner of her lips, distracting him a minute from what she just said.

“Mr Rice?” He squinted his eyes, frowning.

“Gina’s father.” The woman began as she poured some liquor into her cup, “He is here, in Birmingham, I’ve met with him today actually.” She sipped on her drink as if everything she was saying was normal.

But the more she was speaking and the more Tom’s brain got filled with questions, and when he was about to open his mouth, Y/N spoke again, well aware that Tommy didn’t understand.

“Remember when I told you that Gina was working with her uncle? Well, her father used to work with his own brother when younger, but he settled down when he met God. So I just twisted his mind into thinking his brother is using his daughter to get to him and... boom. We got another ally.”

“How come you know so much about her family?”

“It’s called socializing, Thomas, you should try it from time to time. When you use the money to get information, I use my pretty eyes.” She winked at him.

He snickered at her remark, did she just criticize his way of dealing with things? No. She proved more than once her benevolence towards Tommy and his business. “So, why do you want my enemies in a family meeting?” The man emphasized the last words to highlight how absurd Y/N’s idea seemed.

“To show ‘em our hand, we got all the cards right there, Tom.” She opened the man’s hand and patted at his palm with her index.

It was still quite peculiar for him to admit that Y/N handled difficult situations ridiculously well, and even more, to admit that she was indeed helping him.

Tommy wasn’t the type to let people get into his business because he was the only one to know how things needed to be handled, but since he met her, she hadn’t done one thing wrong.

She always had the right answers to threats, she always made the right moves, and even if he wouldn’t fully admit it to himself, he wanted to trust her. Even if he was well aware that she wasn’t telling him everything. He respected that, only because her resilience to fight for his business and himself was genuine.

Maybe Polly got it right the other night at the Garrison, he might be loving her.

“What do you say?” The woman’s voice got him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

She chuckled and shifted her position to be closer to him when realizing he wasn’t even listening to her, “Why that serious face?” she asked as the tips of her fingers encountered Tom’s cheek tenderly.

The man didn’t move a bit, paralyzed by the thousands of sparkles running down his spine. He wasn’t used to her being that soft with him, and at the same time, he never wanted to get used to this, from the way her lips were stretched into a smile to the sweet gleam animating her eyes.

“You went out tonight?” He dismissed her previous question. She didn’t need to know that even when being with her he was still thinking about her.

The thing between them was still as fresh as spring wind and he was so used to seeing her being all strategic and untamed, that seeing her smiling and giggling with him ignited something in him.

“It's a women’s night,” She leaned toward him and pecked his lips before getting up. His fingers that were drawing circles on her thigh slid to her hand and she squeezed it before pulling on it, “the night’s still young. Come ‘ere, Sergeant Major.” She mentioned to him as starting to move her hips.

Tommy’s eyes weren’t leaving her figure, he didn't even blink, too afraid she would vanish. Seeing that she was inviting him to join her, he gave her a faint smile.

(...)

Y/N pushed the Garrison’s door and entered, followed by Tommy. The sound of her high heels caught the attention of the people already inside, heads turned to the lovers as they both puffed on their cigs, ignoring the fact they were late.

“Good morning everyone, I’m happy you could all make it. We know there are disagreements between some of you, but business comes first, right?” Y/N took the lead, positioning herself in front of everybody.

In the room we could see Polly, sitting at the same table as her son Michael who kept an empty chair next to him, probably expecting his wife to join the meeting. Arthur was next to the counter, pouring himself some whiskey. Ada was seated by herself, arms crossed, she already looked pissed off for some reason, but when did she not look like that?

To finish, Mr Rice was alone at a table at the back of the room, as if he didn’t want to mix with the people present at this meeting.

The smiles and sweetness that was present on Tommy and Y/N's faces last night was long gone as both of them wore an emotionless cold face now. They stood side by side, but not too close to avoid suspicion about the nature of their relationship.

“Mr Rice, may I introduce you to my partner, Mr Thomas Shelby, OBE.” She waved her hand to the man standing right next to her.

“Michael, this is Gina’s father, but I bet you already met him, didn’t you?” We could sense provocation in her tone, but Michael was too concentrated on wondering why Gina’s father was there to notice it.

“Polly, we informally met each other two nights prior to this day. Nice to meet you officially.” She threw a smirk to Polly before pouring some whiskey into two cups, giving one to Tommy as she sipped on hers.

The man ignored the stares of his family and drank his drink. They discussed strategies before the meeting and he was sure she knew what she was doing, if everything happened as Y/N predicted, he wouldn’t even have to open his mouth this morning.

“Why are we here?” Polly was the one to ask the question that everybody had in mind.

“To inform you about the restructure of the Shelby Company Limited.” The librarian snapped back outrightly. She didn’t miss the face Michael made and the way his chest raised, it wouldn’t last long before opening his mouth, she could tell, and she counted on that.

“According to what I heard, Americans don't want to deal with the Peaky Blinders, so we’re giving them the Bridgehead Corporation instead.”

It was the first time Tommy heard mentioning the name of her own organisation and his side-eye look showed how deep she piqued his interest.

“I got people back in New York that reached to your contacts, Michael, offering them to directly deal with the opium dealer themselves rather than having to have you as the intermediary.” She didn’t even look to the Gray man, despising him for trying to outdo Tommy.

“Mr Rice here,” She spiritedly pointed at the man sitting at the back of the room “...is one of my associates in America, he is here to testify that they will directly link the Chinese to your contacts if you don’t back down your stupid caprice, Michael.”

Tommy’s cousin was looking at the woman with a clenched jaw, and she knew he wouldn’t be able to retort anything because he wasn’t even the brain of his plan, it was his wife, and she wasn’t there.

She smacked her lips, “But we both know that fucking Americans don’t want to deal with Chinese, right, they don’t want to have to talk to them & do all the real job. They want their money fast without dirtying their hands so they can strut around with their big bellies and cigars.” She continued, meeting Polly’s black stare, but she didn’t give in.

She wasn’t scared of any member of this family, she was there to have Tommy’s back which meant she wouldn’t back down. If they wanted to concentrate on the evil things he’s done and be blind to the fact that all he did was for his family to prosper, then she would be the only one standing by his side.

Polly’ eyes reached Tommy’s, breaking eye contact with Y/N. The Shelby's head wasn’t even looking at the crowd, he was looking before him, listening closely to what the Y/H/C haired woman was saying.

“I’m high-society in England, my name’s on the War records. I've worked hand in hand with Emmeline Pankhurst, which make people talk about me even when I’m not there. Add to this that now, I too deal with the Chinese in the name of the Peaky Blinders. If I approach your contacts, Mr Gray, do you think they will refuse me?” She was speaking with a very calm voice, no anger nor pride and no glance thrown his way, she was too occupied lightening up another cigarette.

“Who the fuck are you?” He ultimately let out, to Y/N's greatest pleasure.

“Who the fuck am I? Say the one losing 2$ million in fucking stock market but still think he can lead this company.” She chuckles to herself, and Arthur can only snort at her arrogance.

A freezing silence settled in the room.

“How’s Gina, Michael?” She finally looked at him with a vicious smile, “Oh yeah, you cannot properly take care of her either.” She let out solemnly.

Another silence settled as Polly was once again intently looking at the woman.

She knew from the start she wasn’t a simple “librarian” as Tommy portrayed her, but this was too much of a scene for a high-society person. She was there when Mosley spoke at the Arrow House during the ballet and it was nothing like what just happened.

There was something more about this that she couldn’t quite get.

“Now if you would excuse us, we got a fucking fascist to kill.” She let out before putting one of her hands in her suit’s pocket as she grabbed the bottle of whiskey with her other hands after sticking her cigarette in between her lips.

Tommy watched her leave the room and raised his brows out of surprise, she was something… He couldn’t say otherwise. It was now sure that Michael wouldn’t try something against him, after that speech, he himself never wanted to be an enemy to Y/N.

(...)

*Bingley Hall, 6th*

“What did you mean: damage from the inside?"

“I have a strategy,” Tommy started to pace up and down, overflowed by the number of thoughts in his mind as well as adrenaline filling his veins.

“You always have a strategy,” Jessie Eden continues wiping the dirt off her face in front of the mirror.

“But it’s dangerous, and it can’t be shared without sharing the danger. ” He opened his arms to mimic how dangerous it was while turning to her figure.

“What’s going to happen?” She turned to face him as the Shelby's head began his race again.

He stops right in front of her without breaking eye contact, his head held high, “I’m gonna do a good thing.” He waved his hand as if he was acting. He thought it was funny to put “I” and “doing a good thing” in the same sentence, “When I do a good thing, innocent people get hurt. So go home.” He looked straight at her. “After this evening, we can meet, discuss strategies.” He pointed to the door with his hand that was holding his cap, “That beast… out there he just a beast. He’s like a horse. It’s the rider that decides which direction it takes.” Tommy wasn’t even talking to Eden at this point, it was himself he tried to cheer up.

He was already putting back his hat on as joining the door when she asked, “And who will be the rider?”

“Just go home.”

He opened the door and left, leaving her aghast while staring at the door shutting. She could only fill the blanks in Tommy’s speech by herself. It was him, who would be the rider.

(...)

“Full?”

“To the fucking brim.” McCavern’s strong accent reached his boss’ ears like the most satisfying sound.

He was arranging his collar in front of a glass, concentrating, “Trouble?”

“So far, a few communists. Bowlers helped our boys clear them away.”

“A few hecklers are a good thing. We can demonstrate how we deal with opposition.” Mosley’s voice was calm, not an ounce of nervosity nor anxiety or apprehension in his voice. He was confident, even his usual arrogance could be heard in his tone.

“There’s a rumour a gang of Jews are coming up from Digbeth. No sign of them yet.” The Irish man was watching things laying on the tables as if truly interested in knowing what they were. He behaved as if it was routine for him to stand by the side of a fascist who was about to tell thousands of people it was a minority being the source of all problems in England and preach about how its extinction will bring much fortune to their beloved country.

Mosley was done making arrangements with his clothes, but his eyes were still fixed on his own through the mirror, his head held high, “Well, let them come. Welcome them appropriately” He concluded.

The atmosphere was serene, filled with silence when Jimmy McCavern suddenly felt concerned, finally raising his gaze to the head of the Fascist serpent, “There are a few Peaky boys around.”

Mosley looked at the Irish man through the mirror, tilting his head to the side and clicking his tongue, “They are our allies. There’ll be no rift between us. Keep your powder dry” He exhaled.

McCavern was about to leave when called by his boss, who was now turned to him, standing straight. His vitreous black eyes didn’t blink even once as he abruptly made the Nazi salute toward the Irish near the door, “Perish Judah.”

The Irish scoffed, opening the door.

“No joke, Mr McCavern.” Mosley gave his first and only warning.

McCavern closed the door in a thud and shifted his position to stand straight, making the Nazi salute towards Mosley without any expression on his face, “Perish Judah.”

After that, Mosley came back to look at himself in the mirror, turning his body to the side, a hand on his stomach, probably checking how fit he looked.

The door opened and closed, a dry chuckle filling the silent room, “Shouldn’t you be repeating your speech or something?”

Mosley’s eyes lift to Y/N. A cigarette hanging over her lips. She was wearing a dark suit matching the gleam in her staring iris. His lids closed before snapping open to her long fitted pants that reached her feet over her black high heels.

She clicks her tongue once in front of him, leading him to lift his gaze to hers.

“You shouldn’t be here, I’ll be announced in a minute.”

“Oh, that I know Sir.”

He gave her a faint smile as closing his eyes with satisfaction, he could get used to being called ‘Sir’ by the owner of the suave voice reaching his ears.

He opened his eyes to hers, “Why the black outfit?” He tilted his head to the side, intrigued by the potential answer.

Y/N was smoking her cig, “Preparing for someone’s death.” She offered him a side smile as a heavy silence settled in the tiny room.

He clicked his tongue, not knowing if she was referencing to the people causing a riot or else. He stretched his arm to the door, inviting her to be the first to get out.

Y/N took a step closer, his hand now touching her as she locked the butt of her cigarette in between her lips, her fingers reaching Mosley’s shoulders, swapping the fabrics off of any potential dirt.

She, obviously, knew he didn’t like to be touched and that Mosely would certainly be annoyed by having the smoke of cigarettes so near his face as he despised them, but she also knew how proud he would feel to finally have an intimate contact with her as he loved women.

Mosley grabbed one of her wrists with one hand, stopping her in her tracks. She lifts her eyes to his staring ones, they were devoid of any emotions, as usual. She was quick to slide her fingers in his, the contact-making him drop her hand abruptly with disgust.

Even if her face didn’t show anything, she was internally laughing at how easy it was to play with him and poke him right in his weak points.

“A quick fuck, perhaps?” She teased the man even more.

She knew if it was any other time he would gladly bend her over a table and fuck her while looking at his own reflection, but it wasn’t the time nor the moment. But she also knew he was well aware he wouldn’t have any other occasion with her, which made the torture a little more dramatic.

He broke the stare and by-passed her without even saying anything, slamming the door behind him.

(...)

“Tommy.” Was all she succeeded at saying, her saliva being sticky out of nervousness. She couldn’t believe they were about to do it.

He turned to her, his back facing the mirror. No need to describe how relieved he was to see her radiant face. YN's perfect hair framing her face elegantly as her finger-waves bounced as she took steps further towards him.

The mood immediately shifted, it was light and soft, the sweet exchanges of looks and smiles uncovering their feelings for each other. They couldn’t even hide the fact they were desperate for each other now.

It was obvious to the two, but also to everyone around them, beginning with Lizzie. She refused to see Thomas for days now, hiding in her own house Tommy bought her when Ruby was born.

She wasn’t the only one refusing to see him, Polly never gave news after the last family meeting, but Tommy heard she was now living with Aberama in her house, away from any illegal activities while Aberama still was working with Tommy, looking forward to the time he’d be able to avenge his son by killing McCavern.

Arthur, that was spending way more time than needed at the Bridgehead library, also noticed how close she and Tommy were, and he never ceased to make jokes, which Y/N blocked by slipping in remarks on how he was eyeing her right-hand, Bridget, and how often this latter began to show up late at work.

The insinuation of Arthur having an affair with the employee of Y/N always made Tommy chortle on his drink, while his older brother remained unusually silent. He, that always thought to be so discreet that no one noticed he found a love interest in a feminist, was in fact not so discreet, much to his displeasure. And hearing his brother laughing at him didn’t help.

Y/N inhaled deeply, her heart pounding in her chest that was inflating. Her fingers went fondling the wrinkles at the corner of Tom’s eyes in a tender manner that immediately eased the man, his skin burning under the touch.

He tilted his head, leaning into her caress so her palm would cup his cheek.

He and she knew better than anyone that in this chaotic lifestyle, they needed sweetness. Not that he was okay admitting he found it while being with her, but she hoped it was the case.

“Something’s in the air, Thomas. Be prepared for death.” She patted one of his temples with her free hand.

He opened back his eyes, darkened by something she couldn’t name, his eyebrows furrowed while blinking, searching answers in Y/N’s eyes in vain.

He didn’t understand what the hell she was saying, but it didn’t matter, she was there, by his side, ready to take on the entire world if needed. He was aware of how much she cared and how she was ready to fight till her last breath by his side. And he'll eventually accept he felt the same about her.

The door opened and Arthur’s head picked through.

It wasn’t just Thomas Shelby against the world, it was them against the world. His brother, his lover, and himself.

Tommy coughed and looked at the ground before looking at his brother with squinting eyes. What was so urgent for him to invade their space like that?

Y/N quickly glanced at the reflection in the mirror behind Tommy to see who had entered the room. Seeing the older Shelby brother’s head, she shamelessly closed the gap between Tom’s face and hers, kissing him with strength.

She was surprised to feel Tommy’s rough hands tenderly cupping her face, his thumbs rubbing her soft skin, as he responded to her kiss with as much strength as her.

“We got this, Y/N.” He said in a whisper, without difficulty.

A warm thunderbolt ran down Y/N’s spine as she stepped backwards, her gaze falling on one of her hands gripping tightly onto Tommy’s jacket.

Even if she tried not to show it, the plan was so big and meant so much that it got her nervous.

Her cheeks reddened a bit but the man couldn’t quite grasp at this vision of her as she almost ran out of the room.

Now that he was showing affection, he was making her flee.

Well, he still hadn’t cracked the code to Y/N’s character.

“Come on Y/N, we’ve been there.” Tommy’s deep voice reached her ears in a huff.

“I know but I want you to tell me all over again.” She turned her naked body to him.

He exhaled deeply and lit a cigarette before explaining to her the plan again. He flattened the white sheet on the bed and created a wrinkle on it to show her the stage.

“Mosley and I will be here,” he then put the used matchstick on the sheet in front of the representative stage, “Barney will be up there, waiting for the sign to shoot.”

Y/N frowned and hit his hand along with the matchstick, “get this shit out my bed, this is an expensive sheet, Sergent Major.”

Tom chuckled as he bent over to her to grab her wrists, forcing her to lean all over him, “Come to me reporting for your duty, then.”

She giggled and grabbed his cig, smoking while drowning in his icy blue eyes.

It was routine now for them to share intimate moments late at night. From staying up late in the Shelby Brother Company limited office, looking to the ceiling, Tom upgraded to visit Y/L/N’s manor.

And inevitably, the lust between them eventuated in their bodies intertwining in all different kinds of places.

Tonight was the bed, fortunately for Y/N’s back as their last night’s epic adventure led them outside the house, in the nearby woods.

One of his hands wandered on her bruised body, other marks of their passionate nights along with burn marks caused by her carpets…

His eyes, thirsty of her, followed the path of his hand with as much attention as he would pay to horse racing.

Y/N found the face he made funny. She couldn’t read him, as hard as she would try, but she knew he felt good there, with her, and it was all that mattered at the moment. It was only them in this space. It was their war zone. Here, he wasn’t at the head of a gigantic gang nor the right hand of a fascist, and she wasn’t running a feminist organisation, no.

They were just lovers bearing their soul to each other, as silly as it sounded. And they wouldn’t trade it for nothing.

“Brother,” Arthur called Tommy back to reality. “Know she’s something else,” he raised his brows in understanding, “but Mosley’s been searching you out there.”

Tom ignored his brother’s remark and cleared his throat, by-passing Arthur.

That one didn’t miss the occasion to drop a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “I’m happy for you, brother.”

And as little as this was, it was enough for Tommy to be relieved of whatever was heavy on his shoulders.

The simple fact he still got his brother meant something deep.

He was ready to make his plan shift from his head to reality. By the end of this day, he’ll be at the head of English fascism, following Oswald Mosley’s death.

He will reach his ambition.

Following Chapter ❱

PEAKY BLINDERS TAG: @retromafia