#terrible actions?!’ every second of their lives. it really is a ‘that’s not how the world fucking works!’ it isn’t. and you /cannot/ make it

[ziracona]

Your're spot on. They're so holier than thou that they legitimitely think that in they would NEVER commit a violent act in that situation despite never having been in such a desperate situation. The funny thing is that they're no better than you or I even if they love to act like they're above it all.

Yeah! It’s not even a ‘we all make bad decisions’ it’s a ‘genuinely some times you have to do extreme things for good’. It’s the Deacon St John “Alright, you know what? You might not like it, but the world is what it is. Yeah, it is. Prayin ain’t gonna change that. Wishing that it was something else? Ain’t gonna make it that way!” - Clementine “It takes more than words! You can’t just talk people into being peaceful. You think I don’t want a life like that for AJ? For myself? God, I’d love to live in a world where I didn't have to worry about killing or dying, but that’s just not how things fucking work!” It’s absolutely true that under any kind of pressure, people who’ve never actually had to practice making hard choices will not be saints and will in fact routinely handle it worse, but it’s also true that inaction can be just as bad or worse than action. Ignoring that, and worse, judging or hurting others for their understanding the world /does/ require action, and sometimes extreme or unpleasant action, is a vile thing that in turn actually causes a lot of harm.

They’re not just wrong about what they do and would do, they’re wrong about how the world works on a fundamental level, and hypocritical and pretentious about it. Sneering at someone who’s lived in life or death struggle making choices you’ve never even had to think about isn’t just not your place, it turns you into one of the aggressors they’re pushing back against. If you’re calmly sitting at a table watching someone on the floor getting the shit beat out of them every night, snacking on pretzels while you tell them they should try to understand the emotions of the person slowly killing them, or reason with them, or that even if this is extreme, you can understand why the aggressor is mad and maybe if you didn’t piss them off, or hid the behavior they don’t like better, or acted better, they’d quit beating the shit out of you? You’re not an innocent third party or a mediator. You’ve chosen a side, and it’s the aggressor. You’re an enabler. Your inaction when you should act immediately shows passive support, and your blaming and placing the weight of change on the victim even in extremes shows how deeply and commits you to chasing harm side by side with them. You support the aggressor. Sometimes, there can be no middle ground, and trying to stand between someone trying to destroy the lives of others just because they exist, and people fighting back to survive, to suggest they should reach a common ground between those two points, or that hitting back when you’re hit makes you just as bad as your attacker, and it’s better to suffer, even if you’ve got some genius plan to cut out half the suffering so it’s only half the abuse? That makes you one of the people demanding oppression be accepted and submitted to. You just feel self-righteous about it. And suggesting there’s some secret pacifist way to talk someone who wants you dead into letting you live your dream life? That still makes you a staunch supporter of the agenda of the aggressor, because you’re still a person standing against anyone standing up to them; you’re just an utterly delusional one.

People are so quick to justify their own actions, and so insanely unwilling to even consider maybe they can’t be the supreme understander of what’s right when it comes go people reacting to a lifetime of pain and aggression and fear they have no idea what it feels like to live under the pressure and choices of every day of their life, and they have no right to police every decision made by people who have to live with the consequences for them and theirs of action and inaction both, for every waking minute for the rest of their time on this planet.

[itsyaniwym]

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ Astrology Observations II ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

✺ Pisces Mars are experts at ghosting. You guys take action in such an elusive way because you hate confrontation, or just unnecessary drama. If y’all are annoyed or feeling a way about something you don’t say anything right away and you only react when things boil over into the point where you can’t control it anymore and you explode. Then you immediately bad for getting so angry. Just work on communicating how you feel, when you feel it, sometimes other people won’t know how you feel until you express it.

✺ Mars in the 1st house synastry isn’t always as sexy and hot as people think it is. The mars person’s attraction could be so strong for the house that they come off too strong which can completely turn off the house person. (If there isn’t any other compatible synastry)

✺ The sign in your second house is usually the sign, or ones with those placements, that you feel the most possessive over.

✺ Also, the second house can explain your appetite and how you like to eat. For example, Sag risings having Capricorn in the 2nd house prefer home cooked meals over fast food. They are very strict as to what they put in their body and they won't eat just anybody's food.

✺ As of the other hand, Scorpio risings having Sag in the 2nd house go from extremes where they are either eating really healthy or just absolutely terrible. They love fast food and can tend to over indulge in these pleasures.

✺ In my opinion, 4th house synastry feels more like family or a really close friend than anything romantic (mostly just Sun and Moon) It feels almost weird to cross that line, like if you do things would turn awkward. OR if it is a romantic connection the planet person may have more feelings than the house person does.

✺ I will stand by this but 6th house synastry is SOOOO underrated!!! If you are looking for a long-term relationship with someone having personal planets here will really help the relationship last. Especially when Sun is there it’s almost like there is a never a dull moment and each and every day you guys are never get bored of one another. Venus here it’s like you guys find pleasure doing the small things together the most. You would even be happy doing things like grocery shopping with them, stopping by at your job to give you flowers, and makes living together very easy. Mars in ones 6th house is sending them to do things, and them not minding at all, they love to make you happy by doing things for you.

I do feel like moon in 6th house synastry would be a bit aggravating. Feeling like the person would rather intellectualize and nitpick your emotions rather than being the one to help you feel them. Almost feels as if you are being judged for any emotion you show. It might be annoying feeling like someone is constantly questioning you about how they feel or feeling like you constantly have to take on the baggage of what the other person is going through.

✺ It’s not said enough but Capricorn placements, especially mercury and Sun, are the most hilarious people ever. Their dry sense of humor and how sarcastic they are is UNMATCHED. They will say the things that other people are scared to say and you can’t help but to laugh. They have that dark humor that no other sign can replicate. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea but they are so real!

✺ Pisces Mars and Pisces rising’s are the ones who are attracted to people that u would least expect them to be with. Or they are attracted to the “bad boy” or the one people tell them to stay away from

✺ Sag rising don’t age! No matter how old they are they have this glow about them and always look so youthful.

✺ Aquarius and Sag Venus’ really don’t have a type. They just love someone who makes them happy and they can go adventures with . These people are attracted to cerebral people and anyone who can really expand their mind. You often hear these people say “I like who I like” or “I just love, love”. This could change if there is some Capricorn energy in the chart which could make someone value a more traditional approach to this fun loving placement.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ Thank you guys for making it to the end of my post! ♥️if you have any experience with any of these placements/synastry above please comment down below your experience! I would love to hear you guys’ feed back. Please keep in mind these are just my personal opinions take everything with a grain of salt. Love youusss💋 ♡

[heavenbarnes]

under no circumstances did your simon want anyone from work knowing you existed.

far as the 141 (or anyone vaguely military) were concerned, simon was single.

when johnny tried to play matchmaker, he just assumed simon was guarded. when gaz harped on about this girl from his gym, he just assumed she wasn’t his type.

the boys lived with illusions of simon returning to an empty, sterile, sad excuse for a home. hardly a home, probably a shoebox of an apartment with the bare basics of furniture.

maybe a rhythmic drip of a faucet to keep him company.

never even an inkling of an idea that he might be coming home to you.

you who kept the home clean, but lived in- warm and loved in. soft things at every corner, soft bed you both slept in, soft couch for him to hold you on. doesn’t smell sterile, smells nice, smells like-

well, you.

it wasn’t shame, embarrassment- if he could, he’d tell any poor sod who’d listen just how much he adored you.

simon thought himself the luckiest fucker alive for even knowing you, let alone loving you. he’d die a thousand lonely times if he did anything to lose you.

safety.

“this job doesn’t lend itself to lovers” price’s voice had rung loud in his head.

he knew his captain was right, he trusted his word more than he trusted his own mind. but his captain hadn’t met you yet.

he hadn’t seen that look you could give him, fluttering lashes and a hazy smile. he hadn’t felt the way you held him, when the days were long and his actions were unforgivable.

he didn’t know that you’d forgive every terrible thing simon had ever done, without a second thought.

you weren’t just a lover, you were the start and end of it all. his big bang.

nobody was ever supposed to know you existed.

simon had been so careful, so fucking careful- he’d suffered days and nights keeping your existence secret. it still wasn’t enough.

it wasn’t johnny’s fault, he didn’t blame johnny but that was one person who knew you in the greater context of “ghost.”

one too many.

“d’ya know L.T’s got a pretty thing at home?”

gaz had laughed, laying another card on the table as he did it.

“and who’d that be? her majesty the queen?”

price even snorted a chuckle out his nose, surveying the hand he was sure to play.

“wouldn’t give me a name, all he’d give me w’sweetheart”

“simon’s got a sweetheart named sweetheart? yeah, and i’ve got a chance at beating the captain”

sweetheart.

security measure two, when the first fails. no names, an alias that was easy to remember. no slip ups.

thankfully, everyone thought johnny had been chatting shit (as he often did) and didn’t care to push further.

but rumours only grow.

simon felt like he was living his life checking around corners. he was used to it at work, but when he was home he was meant to be free.

he couldn’t breathe knowing you could be compromised- that there was a chance he could lose you when he feels like he only just found you.

and when you were finally compromised? hell hath no fury.

there was only one option, they wouldn’t stop hunting you. they knew you were the only thing simon was scared to lose. to him, there was no other way.

price’s hands might’ve shook as he placed the folded flag in your hands, royal blue and silken. returning his mask to its rightful home, skull plate staring back at you.

where his eyes should be.

“if there is anything we can do”

all you could do was a blank stare right through him- show no emotion, show no fear. simon’s words were banging around your head.

that unmistakable feeling of eyes on your back as you retreated, carrying what was left of “ghost” back to your home. to your bed, military corners still tucked perfectly.

gently laying the flag to rest, running the mask through your fingers. what could a ghost really feel like?

bringing it to your lips, pressing a sweet kiss to its centre- where you usually might, before you’d send him off to fight for his country, always assuming he’d come home.

he’d been so careful, it wasn’t enough, everything had changed.

he had to change.

he let you pull the mask over his face, tracing the shape of the skull under a gentle finger tip. standing on your toes to press a kiss-

right between the eyes.

“something isn’t right, he kept this secret damn near the whole time we knew him- he dies and suddenly it all falls in our laps?”

gaz and johnny tailing price as he tore through the base, your file tucked under his arm. thin wee thing that it was, barely enough to piece together an idea.

might as well be chasing ghosts.

“simon sacrificed his life to keep that one safe, why the fuck would he let the details out? when he’s not alive to protect-“

the door was nearly off its hinges with the three men bursting through, putting the fear right through the wee thing at the desk.

“where are simon riley’s ashes?”

“oh, i’m sorry- they’ve already been claimed”

“who? by who?”

whilst the poor girl was gingerly sliding the record towards price, johnny was letting himself into the back room. a space that’d once contained simon’s urn, empty spare the twisted plastic full of fine grey dust.

“cap’n, you’re gonna’ want t’see this”

gaz was nearly vaulting the counter, snatching the ashes out of johnny’s trembling hand.

men with precision aim reduced to a murmur.

“who the fuck did we cremate?”

both men looking to their captain for- for what? help? a fucking clue as to what they’ve really got themselves into?

no use.

price was running a finger down the log book, settling on the name “simon ‘ghost’ riley.” signed out within the hour, only thing left being some poor fucker’s ashes and a set of initials.

signed out by S.H

S.H

sweetheart.

[bowieandqueen11]

Sanji With A Clingy Reader Would Include...

Request: OH BABY telling about one piece is like unlocking a whole second heart of mine i have fully for that anime and manga and live action. and so, if you ever decided of course, you writing something similar to something you did on marvel once and sanji with reader that has no personal space and is touchy would be amazing. but also... kissing zoro is great to, if you ever decided? anyway! HOPE YOU LOVE IT (one piece i mean), and if not ignore me UwU

Ooh yess babes this is so SWEET!! :3 I LOVED IT omg hello to my latest obsession not me ordering the first collection of the manga

This was really sweet and fun to do, but I did stay up all night writing it so all comments are much appreciated!

Warning: slightly spicy, some mentions of fighting!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @fanpageknight.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Look at this man. Seriously, look at this man with his little bottom lip bite and eyes like the sun shines heavily out of them and tell me he would be anything less than absolutely madly, heart wrenchingly, soul crushingly enthralled with a clingy reader??? That's right you can't take the l on this one.

It all started that day when the three of you ended up shipwrecked on that sad sack excuse of a rock. When you and Sanji huddled on one side of the forsaken isle to stay away from the terrifying Pirate Zeff. His hands had shaken as he drew them up to his chest, but he mustered the nerves to string open the sack Zeff had thrown at his feet. Once he had counted out the cans, he offered all the food to you.

He wanted you to stay alive far more than himself. Ever since you had landed on his ship he had been smitten, and his weary heart would beat its last under this smothering sun as long as you would live on for the both of them.

To keep him calm: to stop his gasping, tortured heaves as he tried his best not to writhe in panic at the thought of never stepping back on safe land again, you would spent most of those 85 days sitting over the cragged edges. Sanji couldn't tear his eyes away from peering down at the gushing shards of stone below that seemed to rip up in tides and tear for his swinging feet; to try and distract him from sniffling any longer, your hand would tentatively creep over the rock until it landed flatly, and unceremoniously on top of his own. His fingers flexed beneath your own, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he folded them upwards, giving your hand a shaking squeeze: a dutiful promise, a flitting confession of love, that you just happened not to feel in your ruminations of the circumstances.

In fact, he asked you that night, in an uncharacteristically quiet and bashful voice, if you would keep his nightmares away by holding him like his mother used to. You felt terrible: you were so stunned that for a moment you stood with the last piece of mouldy bread you had in your hand in shocked silence. Poor Sanji thought you were about to reject him outright: throw what little he had left of his heart - that he had so carefully lifted out and placed in his hands to offer to you, only to have it thrown back to his feet in the usual ridicule he got for his love. His bottom lip began to tremble, until you nearly knocked him onto his bottom with how fast you dropped everything and flew over to lock him in a tight hug, not minding the fact that your shoulder was growing wetter and wetter despite the brewing rain each time Sanji buried his snivelling head against it.

So you would let him rest safely in the bracket of your arms: his left cheek resting in the warm stretch between your collar bone and your neck, his right hand draped leisurely around your waist as you told him stories of pirates and treasure: of the Deep Blue and tropical fish that shone like bursts of fragmented starlight every time their fins graced the water. Although he would groan any time you removed your hand from where you were stroking the wet strands of his hair back from his forehead, it was quickly replaced with wonderment as you would point up at a cluster of stars and whisper excitedly: 'look, there's some now!'

He had never been afraid of nights ever since that moment, not when the stars were still out and he could trace with the butt of his cigarettes the fish you had drawn specially for him in the skies. It was like a secret message: a lover's reminder that he was never alone. That you were always with him. That your beauty - your light, it shone everywhere, no matter where he was.

It was the first time he had kissed you, two forgotten children lost underneath the dripping crevice of your little hideaway. As your belly began to rise and fall underneath his elbow, and he believed you had exhausted yourself out after trying to make him feel better, he dared to dart up from your shoulder and press his lips firmly against your cheek. It had been quick, almost gliding past time like a dolphin leaping up out of the water, but it had meant so much to him that he curled up into a ball in your side and flushed a bright cerise, having to shove his fist into his mouth to stop his manic giggling from waking you up.

But you weren't asleep, and as Sanji settled back into your neck with a smile bright enough to rival the shine of buttercup petals, you swore as he began to drift off in the first peaceful dream he had had in years that one day you would return the favour, but in full.

The two of you were thick as thieves growing up, to the point where Zeff became so distracted by your antics that he often tried to separate the two of you by making you work the floor and Sanji either in the kitchens, or off fishing at the docks. Ten seconds later though, he'd be kicking through the kitchen doors again to find you leaning on the kitchen counter next to an eager faced Sanji, whose to busy to register Zeff's shouting. Instead he places the spoon to your lips, having spent half of lunch service prep cooking you a brand new recipe he had spent the whole night creating out of a medley of your favourite foods. He subconsciously licks his bottom lip, the tension in the room felt by the other chefs who try to carry on washing pans and cutting vegetables enough to put everyone on edge as Sanji refused to look anywhere but your lips. Holding his hand under your chin, his dipped eyes were broken by a sudden grin as a loud 'mmhhh' left your mouth and you chewed in sweet bliss.

Still ignoring Zeff's increasingly erratic rant, as Sanji goes to start cleaning up his pan you slide down to stand behind him, wrapping your arms tightly around your back and jutting your chin into his shoulder blade like a baby koala. You can tell he's laughing silently by the way his shoulders shake against you, but all he does is pull up your hand from his belly button to press sweet, dainty kisses up and down the lengths of your fingers, before dropping it down to press your palm flatly against his heart.

'I think that might be your greatest dish yet, buttercup!'

'From you, that means everything my precious heart.'

'Why do you call me that?', you murmur, refusing to lift your lips from his shirt.

'Well my sweet love, why do you call me buttercup? I mean, I always know I smell of butter and the likes-'.

He's distracted by your snort against the side of his neck, but the two of you are too love-strikingly embarrassed to say anything again. Even if neither of you could see the warm peach rushing up both your cheeks, Zeff could. He could also hear the padding thuds of Sanji's heart as he gripped his fingers that almost imperceptibly bit tighter around your hand, and he found himself sighing at how oblivious you two idiots were.

Sanji is definitely just as clingy as you, if not more so. You've definitely met your match in this man. I mean, any time you're out on the floor, handing out bread to tables and scanning the room to check if there were any patrons you may have to throw out by the scuff of their collars later, his eyes are trained on yours. He leans against the banisters, not even trying to remotely hide how obviously he's tracing your path with a dumbstruck, lit up smile. If you're in the kitchens, desperately trying to bite your tongue and not tear Zeff a new one as he chops his hands together and rushes you to plate up? He's sliding up to your side in an instant, throwing scathing looks at the man while trying to help you spoon thyme onto your bass, nuzzling the side of his head into yours encouragingly. If you have any free time at all? Sanji is fast on your heels, darting after you like someone's firing shots at his dress shoes, as if you have his heart tied to a string on your wrist as he seeks out whatever nook you're going to relax in. It doesn't matter if you're at the bar, watching the docks, or trying to hide from Zeff in one of the cupboards in the pantry: Sanji is squatting down and grunting as he shoves himself in right next to you. He sits criss cross, only satisfied when at least one of his knees is resting heavily over yours, and he has full access to watch what you're reading over the side of your neck.

He only fully settles, though, if you touch him in some way. He genuinely will begin mewling once your hand reaches over to brush your knuckles over his jawline, or your hand finds itself guided to bunch itself up in his hair. One time, he guided your hand into his lap, and you began to absentmindedly stroke your pointer finger along the seam of his inner thigh. Thank goodness you had your head buried in a book one of the pirate crews had come to swap some dried meats with you for, because it took every muscle in Sanji's body twitching: every finger clenching and unclenching into his knee until he drew blood not to knock you flat right there and then and kiss you like there was no tomorrow.

He gets a MASSIVE nosebleed - so gushing, in fact, that he tries to reassure you he's fine as you hold him by the elbows and lead his tilted back head and pinched nose down to Zeff for some help.

It becomes a very major recurring issue every time he looks at you. He makes sure to carry a handkerchief in his breast pocket from then on.

God, if he didn't love you more than anything in all the seas. If you weren't the only one that he let see past his charming nature: if you weren't the only person left in his life that truly could recognise the young boy left in his eyes, in his gait, in his smile, in his dreams. That little kid on that great big ship, the one who had found you stowed away behind one of the barrels of rum, and instead of calling for the crew had taken your trembling hand and led you into the kitchens, introducing you as his newest sous chef. That same kid, who stood beside you and held your hand so gently, so heartbreakingly gently under his as he guided you through lessons of chopping onions and sautéing garlic, breaking out into long strings of rushed, praising French every time you got it right. The same one, who would frown as if he were the one who had been hurt any time you burnt your hands or sliced your fingers. Who would unravel the knot at the back of his apron, and tug it over his head to carefully place it over yours.

'This always brings me luck', he would say as his fingers daintily tucked the strings underneath your shirt collar. 'But I don't need it anymore, because you've brought me all the luck and happiness a man could ever dream of, my cherie.'

The same kid who would tip toe out of his bed to sneak down to your hammock, crawling in and burying himself underneath your blankets where you slept in the brig, telling you fantastical stories about his mother until you fell sound asleep. He would watch you from where he lay on his side, hands folded by your head, as if you had hung every star in the wide skies. He would brush his fingers over the edge of your cheek and curl up beside you, wishing that every minute of every day of the rest of his life could be spent with you.

Yeah, smitten wasn't enough to cover it. Only destiny could be raw enough to draw the two of you to each other, Sanji always thought.

As teenagers, you would end every shift outside, sitting on the wonky boards of one of the jutted docks. Just sitting side by side, as you always wanted to be, pretending you weren't playing a game of chicken as the two of you teased and pressed and glanced your fingers over each other's, leaning back and looking up at the stars. Sanji always appreciated the better chance it gave him: shrouded in naught by wisps of moonlight and the rare flashing neon of ship string lights, to take you in as much as he could. You didn't mind the fact that he spent the whole time staring over at you. In fact, if you hadn't been so lovestruck, you might have found the courage to tear your head away from the horizon to meet the look of gut-wrenching devotion that always seemed to pour out of his eyes and beam only on you. It always felt like warm sunlight, sitting next to him, and so you finally dared a chance at grabbing his fingers and intertwining them between your own, pretending it was because of the sea chill spraying a fine mist over your legs.

Again, the squeeze he gave your hand was almost, almost imperceptible, but you felt it this time. And you could feel the look of enduring devotion he pierced into your skin, a warm tingle washing like a spring tide through your tired body.

He always knew. He always knew that if he had stayed on that rock, he would have been content to. Happy, even. Because he would have been with you.

'I love you', he said without words. He gave your hand another squeeze. 'I'm going to love you forever. No matter how many lifetimes. No matter who I am. I'm always going to find you, and I'm always going to love you.'

His voice nearly made you jump, surprising you at how it started with his usual buttery smoothness, before cracking with a thick gulp as his words trailed of. 'Never leave without me.'

'I promise, as long as you don't leave without me.'

He shakes his head. 'You never leave me. Not even for a moment.'

Sometimes, when the two of you are older, he still comes stealing into your room at night, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as his lips wobble into a frightened frown. Turns out, as he draws the covers back and comes reaching in for you, he had another nightmare that pirates had come to steal you away from him again. With an aching sigh for how stricken he looked, how desolate, you let him claw at your shirt and bury his head into the side of your neck until the rest of the world melted away.

He kissed you again, that night. When the feel of his legs strewn familiarly between your own began to burn against his skin, and the weight of hand perched over his thrumming heart became too heavy to bear in secret. With nothing but the light streaming like shards of pearly stars through the porthole to betray a moment so special, so longed for, Sanji let his eyelashes flutter close as he slowly... slowly pressed his lips against your cheek again.

This time, his eyes widened in shock as the feeling of your hand gripping at his jaw and turning his face straight on to your own. Before he can even open his mouth in confusion, the sweet pressure of your lips pressed against his top one. For a moment, Sanji doesn't move an inch: doesn't even breath, not even processing that the thing he’s spent every moment of his waking and sleeping life wishing for ever since he found you on that boat was actually happening, right here right now. He tries really hard to stop his whole body from shaking, as his silky lashes finally falter shut against the top of your cheeks and he tries to focus his whole attention on the way your plush lip seems to press so perfectly against his own.

When he finally pulls away, he lets out a loud 'OW' as he pinches his arm.

'What did you do that for!?'

'I had to double check this wasn't a dream, my sweets!'

And then he's on you again, like a ravished man gasping for air. God, he wasn't sure if soulmates were real, but when your top lip pulled down against his, and he could feel the thud of your heart synch against his own beneath the tips of his fingers, if he didn't know that he was yours.

He stays in your room a lot more often after that, using it as an excuse for you to help him button up his shirt during sleepy mornings, smiling at the feel of your fingers as they knocked against the muscles of his chest. It was also his favourite part of the day - the good morning kiss the two of you shared before you raced down to be at your shifts before Zeff decided to knock your heads together.

One time you forgot to give him one, too distracted by one of the sous chefs busting into your room with a bloodied nose and a chipped front tooth, whistling through the gap as he begged you to come down to the main foyer and help him break out a fist fight that had started between two gangs of rival pirates. The pout on Sanji's face that day was enough to make even the most bounty-heavy pirate's knees tremble. Every other chef steered way clear of his station, watching the arch of his back and the jaw in his muscle jump as he busied himself by frying his steak of tuna, so gutted at the loss of just one kiss. Not angry, no: just grief stricken, because this man seriously just adores you that much.

When you finally get your lunch break, the first thing you do is throw your napkin down on the kitchen ground and grab Sanji by his suit collar, enjoying the surprise tilt of his head as he drops his spoon onto his serving tray and allows you to lead his feet backwards to the fire exit. As soon as he's outside, you slam him gently against the wooden beams of the Baratie restaurant, and kissed him silly to make up for it. His look of trusting confusion suddenly melt into jumping heart eyes when your knee slides up between his thighs to try and pin him in place. His breathing comes out in harsh, shallow gasps between ferocious kisses, and you have to press him back against the wall every time he comes arching forward to follow your head for even more kisses. No, this was about you making him feel good. And by goodness, as your tongue pressed against the seam of his lips and tentatively ran over his front teeth, if he wasn't two seconds away from falling to his knees right there and then.

When you let him go, he slides down the wall like putty until he's sitting with legs stretched out and both his suit and hair a ruffled mess. He's literally never been more deliriously happy in his whole life.

Your favourite time of the day is when the restaurant closes, and the two of you finally have the kitchens to yourselves. Once you've tossed your aprons back onto the rack with a tired sigh, the only thing that can cheer you up is the sound of Sanji kicking his chair back with the toe of his shoe, and the sight of him beckoning you over to him with that tilted head and pearly beam of his. Mmh, how safe you feel, how loved as you collapse down to sit on his knees, and he tucks you in between the brackets of his arms in a vice so tight it could match any Marine knot.

You take one of his hands off the pen he was holding, turning his palm round to face you so you could fiddle with the rings he was wearing. You draw one up, curling his finger before your eyes, before slotting one off and sliding it onto your own ring finger. It was the one his father had given him: one he so loathed to wear, and yet felt guilt bore down too heavily on his conscious to ever take it off. You turned the one on top of it, one you know Zeff had given him after his first day working at the Baratie, and you smiled at the memory.

'You know', you start, still fiddling with his hand, feeling him shift his thighs as you pressed a gentle kiss on the pointer finger you were currently grasping onto. 'I may just have to keep this one.'

'Oh yeah?', he says dreamily, and you could feel his grin growing as he hid his burning face in the nape of your neck. 'Don't worry sweetheart. One day, once I find the perfect one, I'll give you a ring of your own.'

The two of you sneak out and share cigarettes out the back door a lot, where Sanji steps forward and kisses you like a man possessed every time you pinch the stub from out of his mouth and draw it along your bottom lip teasingly. When you try to get him to go back in, he just wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up, spinning you around to stop you from leaving him alone. Laughing, you try to shove him off, swatting at the hands that form a tight clasp over your belly button, until his large fingers finally slide down to hold your waist. You glance behind you, smirking at the way his eyes are tightly shut in euphoria as ducks down, chest nearly enveloping in his desperation to reach your face again. His kisses become sloppier: smoke stained as they leave wet trails up your jaw, before he finally gives in and tries to make you laugh one last time by nibbling at the lobe of your ear.

Whenever he has a fight with Zeff, you have to hold him afterwards. The feel of your fingers curling the hair at the nape of his neck, or rubbing soothing circles into the sore muscles of his shoulders stops the furious darts of air from flaring his nostrils almost immediately.

Man has blaring heart eyes 100% whenever he's in a fight with rowdy customers, and you get to kick the flashy knife out of the last one's hand before the pirate could launch straight for Sanji's neck. He tilts his head at you with those amazed eyes, a gentle smile growing almost shyly on his face like a secret wink, before he throws his now empty plate at the pirate trying to sneak up behind your back. The crash echoes out through the booth area, a cry so furious: so full of rage that anyone would try and dare hurt you, that it makes all the remaining pirate crews crawl out towards the door on their hands and knees.

Stitching each other up afterwards is a motherfcking mess though, that Zeff straight up just abandons all hope of being able to use his kitchen. With a defeated rub of his pounding temples, he lets the door slam shut on his heel because he just can't deal with the two of you. He'd much rather pick up a brush and start sweeping bits of crushed and splattered asparagus off the floors than have to watch you to battle it out in a stiff competition of who could be more sickeningly, maddingly in love with the other. Between you standing between Sanji's entrapping thighs, closing you in tighter so you could have full access to kiss his bobbing Adam's apple as you use a rag to swipe bits of dry sauce off his neck, and him throwing his head back and whimpering, Zeff was going to go insane. Even worse, as soon as you're finished, Sanji's reaching between your fingers to lick split consomme off your nose.

The two of you are literally insufferable, and if every one apart from Zeff doesn't find it the cutest thing I-

When Luffy comes and wrangles Sanji into joining his crew, the chef's first thought is to be distraught. He seeks you out straight away, nearly breaking some poor fisherman's pole as he tries to hurdle over it and grip onto your shoulders, making you drop the barrel of dried meats you were carrying from Luffy onto the planks and watching Luffy nearly dangle off the edge of his ship to stop it from rolling into the ocean.

'Y/n- I- I can't go!'

'You're hardly scared!'

'I'm not scared of going, I'm terrified of going without you!'

You let him pour his heart out for a moment, before stopping his rambling, near sobbing mess of a sentence by bopping the tip of his nose. You giggle, swiping some hair from his forehead. 'Sanji, Luffy asked me to come first. I promised I wouldn't go without you, and I meant it.'

You manage to unlatch his twitching hand from your left shoulder, and give it an almost imperceptible squeeze. The tears that threatened to fall from his eyes finally cascade down, although he's so relieved that he's smiling through the blurriness. You swipe them away with your free thumb, finally, after all these years, feeling the squeeze of your hand that Sanji gives you back, before he envelops you in a breath taking hug.

'Awww, you guys are so sweet!', Luffy calls out from where he's hanging by his sandal off the railing of his ship. 'But could someone give me a hand before my hat falls into the waves? That would not be very cool.'

The first thing the two of you do once you're on The Going Merry is to find your bunk. Sanji isn't very subtle when he kicks your door shut with his heel, and comes scampering towards you like an upended sand crab, pinching for you until he's hefted you up over his shoulder and has unceremoniously landed you in your shared hammock. He's quick to jump in, straddling you as the hammock sways back and forth with the commotion.

He nearly starts crying again when he sees a flash of silver poke out from underneath your neckline; he grazes his hand over the chain, recognising it as his father's ring you had taken months ago. The one he had hated so much. The one you had tried to save him from. A small piece of him. A weight you tried to bear for him. A reminder of how much he was loved.

A confused Zoro, not realising there are new crew members on board, follows the sound of Sanji's voice crooning out how much he adores you, and how he loves you more than every star in the sky, down past the window on your bedroom door. Let's just say, he's not very impressed when he catches sight of the hammock swinging wildly from side to side, and an array of clothes thrown out and discarded in a mess around it.

[posletsvet]

Thoughts on Geto Suguru's Psychology Pre-Defection

There's something that I've been meaning to talk about for a while now, and that is Geto's apparent tendency to conceal his negative impulses that allows for, in my view, faulty interpretations stating that he was faking his righteous beliefs all along just because assuming high moral ground gave him a sense of superiority and fed his ego. Meanwhile I would argue that, on contrary, this habit is more indicative of Geto's insecurities and heightened sense of self-awareness.

My thoughts on this underneath the cut, but beware: it's going to be long!

To begin with, I think there are two major factors playing into the misconception that I mentioned. The first one boils down to prejudice forcing people to look upon younger Geto through the lense of a person he would go on to become. The kind of cautious logic that says that a deeply empathetic, caring highschooler couldn't have turned into a murderous cult leader preaching the merits of genocide, and thus seeks ways to dehumanize him from the very beginning (because that's a terrible concept to wrap your mind around, I agree). And the second factor being... well, that Suguru's behaviour really does come off as fake at times.

We experience 'negative' emotions as naturally as 'positive' ones, and despite some of them are conventionally accepted as 'good' whereas others are painted as 'bad', no emotion is inherently harmful or invalid; they all are a part of what makes us human. While it's undoubtedly a chilly and ominous concept for someone to be completely devoid of any positive traits, just as unnatural it is to display positive responses only. Perfection is stored away at museums, no living breathing human being can go through their life without being affected by negative impulses or thinking. But more often than not negative emotions are condemned and stigmatized (in the end, we still refer to them as 'negative'), and self-consciousness can make one ashamed or guilty of experiencing them. The end result of this would be trying to hide your feelings under one more appealing appearance, creating a warp between what's intuitive and what's manifest, an inadequate emotional response.

Gojo (at least in his teenage years) is widely outspoken and doesn't hesitate to outwardly express himself, whether verbally or via body language. It probably takes root in Gojo's upbringing: he was spoilt rotten, revered for being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, his every whim indulged and tended to. There simply wasn't any need for him to try and make a good impression by faking docility and emotions that are more pleasant and easier to digest. Gojo may be boisterous and bratty and obnoxious, but he isn't trying to 'trick' anyone into thinking he's better than he really is, and this paints a more sincere, believable picture to the audience.

On the other hand, Geto's emotions, partly due to his more solemn demeanour, are often toned down or consciously concealed. For instance, when Riko manages to strike a nerve in him, his response is to immediately plaster on mawkish 'customer service' smile to not give away his annoyance. This scene is especially interesting to me because of how Amanai's reaction gives voice to the audience's concerns. Referring to Suguru, she says, 'You look like a liar!' -- and by doing so calls him out on his tendency to mask negative emotions. Intuitively, she can still read his feelings in his body language, in the delay in his expression rearranging itself into a smile, and so can the viewer. We know he's annoyed, and his words about having no intention to harm Riko don't exactly align with how he behaves (even if in a playful manner) a moment after saying them. It creates a tangible contradiction between what he says his intentions are and what his actions speak of, between the appearances and what lies behind them. And this contradiction raises suspicion, in a way that if somebody's making an effort to hide something, then there must be something to hide.

In retrospect this doubt might seem reinforced and justified. I see how it's easy to fall into thinking that Geto, having become a criminal who's done unspeakably cruel things and who backs up his delusional ideals with bigoted reasoning, should've been hiding darker parts of himself behind all those fake smiles and talks about righteousness. But pinning the blame on Geto alone by claiming that he had violent tendencies to begin with is essentially disregarding systematic issues that the story strives so much to convey to the audience. Holding innate individual qualities accountable for the catastrophe is basically the sort of thinking that the higher-ups display, whose main strategy for dealing with problems is public scapegoating and disposing of every single threat to the current order by giving out one death sentence after the other. I don't think we as the viewers are supposed to reach the conclusion that Suguru is at fault for what happened, which is not to say he's faultless, nonetheless the narrative goes to great lengths to make us sympathize with him, not the other way around.

Now, there's really a handful of ways in which Geto's character seems to contradict himself. He shares overspilling empathy for the people around him, that is his character's core trait, but that very empathy spells out his downfall when it degrades into resentment and hate. He displays a largely considerate and sympathetic demeanour, but he's first introduced to the audience as someone who backhandedly bad-mouths Utahime for being weak. He's one half of the strongest duo, but whereas Gojo is a natural-born genius, Geto evidently struggles with his powers. His entire career as a curse user is based on the mentality which justifies the means to an end, but reaching the end goal is impossible for him as he is, Geto himself as much as admits to it during his last conversation with Satoru. He sets on his wild-goose chase for power, but ends up stagnating to the point where his use of Curse Manipulation in the Hidden Inventory Arc is much more inventive and creative than in Jujutsu Kaisen 0. The list goes on, but you got the gist.

To live for the purpose of being yourself. And for that goal, Geto could only continue to pursue his twisted dream, drowning himself in a curse that lies in the gap between ideal and reality.

I believe this to be such a poignant phrase when it comes to Geto's characterization because of how well, in my view, it encapsulates the conflict of his character -- or, if you will, the contradiction of it. It succinctly expresses his outlook on things, where he views the world how it's ideally supposed to be rather than how it realistically is. I've actually somewhat already elaborated on this in my very first rambling on here:

To me, Geto seems to be a type of person who needs something to guide him, some clear-cut ideal to make it possible for him to navigate through his life. He is pedantic in that sense: the sharp outlines of his views define his surroundings, the very way he looks at things and perceives them. He needs everything to fall precisely in line with his own set of ideals, which seems to be quite verified and well-adjusted within his mind, like a strict and refined concept he constructed for himself, like a routine he's used to following out of pure principal. His own belief system being so defined, it's that which makes him indulge in excessive discourse on the subject of morality and responsibility, like he's patiently laying out the basics in front of a disobedient child to help them wrap their mind around some fundamental truth that is so obvious and natural for him.

In a way, Geto concealing his negative emotions is not a false front put up against scrutinizing looks that could reveal his 'true nature'. Quite the opposite, I think it speaks more of his well-meaning intentions. When trying to change the way things are, start at yourself, and I guess this is the principle Geto's trying to apply here. By following through his own ideal, Geto does his best to be an upright person he believes himself obliged to be, whether that means forcing himself to absorb curses or putting on a customary smile. It might be juvenile and wishful thinking on his part, probably akin to 'fake it till you make it', but it's important to keep in mind that at that time he was still but a teenager. Moreover, he was put on par with somebody as praised within jujutsu society as Gojo, he must've felt on top of the world, too entranced by their warm spring of youth to care too much about the occasional slips. With Satoru by his side, I imagine Geto could afford to cut some slack and participate in the mischief. Later we see post-defection Geto drop his frivolous facade only when he's entirely alone -- another hint at how Gojo was really the only person Suguru allowed himself to confide in, that is untill the SPVI put uncrossable distance between them.

While I do say that Geto's intentions are well-meaning, the way he positions himself actually reveals some quite problematic aspects of his mindset. Namely, his attitude towards non-sorcerers, whom he clearly sets into a different category from himself and his fellow sorcerers. Regular people lack crucial understanding, they are weak because they are helpless, therefore they have to be shielded from the source of harm. This is a largely patronizing concept of empathy, since it's based on the notion that the 'weak' are inherently inferior to Geto himself and others involved in jujutsu society. It's interesting how it's reflected in Geto's insistence on the necessity of curtains. The use of curtains furthers the extent of non-sorcerers' ignorance, they never learn how to stay out of harm's way as they are deprived even of as much as their perception of the existing danger. It reminds me of how a parent would brush a child's concerns aside because they're too young and naive and do not need to be aware of adult life's hardships. Just like Geto's paternalistic outlook, it does not come from malice or negligence, it's just an attempt to keep someone less experienced and skilled safe. Nonetheless it's harmful as it puts that person in a position which denies them agency.

In my view, Suguru's fake smiles are an extension of his acute sense of responsibility. In front of those over whom he assumes responsibility, he presents himself as calm, collected and dependable as if it's supposed to reassure them. It's his job to protect them and make them feel safe, so there's no need showing them his own struggle. Even if such thinking is condescending, it's not in any way malicious. Geto's entire character arc would be simply non-existent if he wasn't completely genuine in his sentiments.

So why do I talk about Geto's insecurities when first introducing the topic of this post? Well, I'm about to take a deep dive into the field of speculation and theories and finally get to the point why I'm writing all this in the first place (took me long enough, lmao). There's also a reason why I brought up Gojo's upbringing when talking about his personality and how it contrasts Geto's. You see, like Satoru's way of dealing with his emotions can be linked to his childhood experience, Suguru's behaviour might also give us some clues about the circumstances he grew up in.

The more I look into it, the more convinced I become that Geto was in one way or another exposed to emotional trauma in his childhood. Remember when I mentioned inadequate emotional responses? While being one, smiling in reaction to stress may act as a defense mechanism of sorts, shielding the person from the chronic nature of the unpleasant experience. It also may serve as a way to avoid alienation by others who are not privy to the source of your distress or are not comfortable with it. Affiliative smiles are motivated by social factors, it's a tool used to create and maintain social connections. Human beings are hardwired to connect with others, feeling alienated by the people around us causes us great pain.

The thing us, we must assume that Geto is relatively new to the jujutsu world in the flashback arc. Given his non-sorcerer background, chances are he was the only one in his immediate surroundings with the ability to see and exterminate curses. There couldn't have been a way for him to confide in someone with his concerns and fears born from interacting with something only he could see. So I assume that eventually that resulted in Suguru developing an unhealthy habit of masking his emotions before the ones he cared about. And as over time he grew more aware of his abilities and got a grasp on how his CT works, I imagine Geto committed to exorcising curses in order to protect ordinary people from them -- all by himself. This, in turn, must have solidified that conception in Suguru's head which ultimately othered him from the people around him and put them in a position inferior to him since they were the ones depending on him and his powers.

As Geto should've mostly kept to himself, I also see how he might have grown heavily reliant on his analytical mind. Overthinking is a habit developed early on in life as a way to wade through feeling uncertain or unsafe. It's an attempt to make sense of confusing reality by applying an analytical lense to it and compartmentalizing it into neat, easily understandable categories. And also a way to regain sense of self when you find yourself in a situation you otherwhise have little to no control over. And while over-analyzing can create a sense of security, it may also interfere with a person's emotional responses. I guess it's something that could be applied to Geto, too, because for such a self-reflective character he always struck me as someone with oddly little regard of his own feelings.

As a side note, I like how Geto's tendency to over-analyze things is shown in that one scene when Yaga's briefing him and Gojo on the upcoming mission. Suguru's clearly presented as someone who's very mindful of how the world around him works. Understanding helps him assign meaning to different aspects of life, and he relies upon it heavily. Also, as someone who's been uprooted from his former society and introduced instead to an entirely different world, I guess it's important for Geto to fit in. Him being highly knowledgeable about such essential details is, in my view, indicative of such effort on his part. Whereas Satoru simply does not care about such details, the reality makes sense to him as it is as he was born perfectly fit into it.

Last but not least, Geto's infamously guilty of a dichotomous, or black-and-white, outlook on things. This is the all-or-nothing mentality that leaves little to no room for nuance and does not allow two opposite statements to be true at once. It's a common cognitive distortion that manifests immature thought; a rigid mindset more often than not bordering on extreme. Meanwhile the very foundation of Geto's downfall is the inability to adapt to the complicated reality which doesn't align perfectly with his idealistic vision. He ultimately failed to wrap his head around the world with grey areas, his black-and-white thinking thinking prevented him from doing so.

The development of such maladaptive personality traits has been repeatedly linked to the effects of childhood trauma. If the environment which a person grew up in was traumatic and chaotic, black-and-white thinking might have given them a sense of control through rationalization. That's why a mentality which doesn't allow for nuance and doesn't reflect life in its intricate complexity comes off as childishly simplistic. Seeing the world in all-or-nothing terms in some way means reverting to your inner child. And this is actually something that Shoko accuses Geto of during their brief conversation in Shinjuku. In his thinking Geto doesn't grow past his traumatic experience, whether it was his parents actively abusing his abilities for their own gain or the ache of being alienated at such an early age.

If the nature of Geto's relationship with his parents was abusive, it would also explain his altruism. Suguru goes out of his way to express his concern for well-being of those around him, and he does genuinely care, but all the while it could be a way for him to tend to his own unsatisfied needs by helping others. He seems to be highly attuned to others through his empathy, but also somewhat has trouble advocating for himself, resulting in harmful patterns of self-sacrifice or self-neglect.

It's true, there is a lot of contradictions housed within Geto's character, which are evident in his mindset and his actions. But I don't believe this to be due to sloppy writing, on contrary -- it's the kind of writing that speaks through detail and nuance and invites the reader to ponder why is this or that character the way they are.

[hopelesslyromanticgay]

How about Tara and R grew very close, kissed here and there but then Tara friendzones R. R distances herself and only then Tara realizes that she wants more than friendship

We're Gonna Make It Work

5 times Tara and Y/N shared meaningless kisses + one time they actually meant it. Or: A quick 5 + 1 fic!

Disclaimer: certain themes in this story I don't have tons of experience with, so sorry if not everything's accurate. EX: I definitely haven't been to a college party lmao.

Tara and I met on our first day in college. Freshmen year in college is intimidating enough. Freshmen Year in a big city like New York is terrifying.

We bonded quickly, and soon enough I was spending tons of time with her friend group. I even introduced my roommate, Anika to my new friend, Mindy, and now the two are happily dating. It seems I've seamlessly assimilated into their group.

I've always thought she was extremely beautiful. I really don't want to risk the friendship I've worked so hard to build with her. At the same time, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to try.

The first time we kissed it was an accident. That's all it was. An accident.

She was blackout drunk at a party. Mindy and Anika had disappeared into some room. Chad was doing shots in the kitchen. Ethan was at his dorm, doing homework like the "quirky" pick me he is.

So many people crowded the building, dancing terribly to awful music, drunk on cheap booze. The frat house reeked of liquor and the distinct scent of marijuana.

Not to say I wasn't drunk too, though. Just less drunk than everyone else in the group. There was a slight wobble in my step as I walked from the kitchen to the living room, wanting to sit for a split second.

Tara had a three round winning streak at beer pong against some guy I'd never seen before. In the corner of my eye, I could see her downing a cup every 45 seconds or so. Maybe if the alcohol hadn't clouded my judgement, I would have been smart enough to get her away from that sooner.

It wasn't until I saw her wobbling towards the steps with he guy she had just been competing with that I sprang into action.

In retrospect, can see why people call booze liquid courage. Man, if I were sober, there would have been no way I would do what I did next.

"Hey, Tara, your boyfriend's looking for you," I grabbed her away from the clearly less drunk man in front of me. He reached out and grabbed her other arm, "she'll be fine."

"Her boyfriend is a football recruit," I lied, "he'll beat the shit out of your weak ass."

"What?" she slurred, unable to comprehend what I'm saying.

"I said, your boyfriend's here, let's go find him," I repeated, dragging her away from the situation.

"Why did you do thattttt," she whined once we're out of ear shot.

"He was taking advantage of you, you'll thank me in the morning," I told her, "you're a mess, let's get you home."

Luckily, her apartment wasn't far, because I was practically carrying her down the street. She flutters in and out of consciousness, making her balance even less stable.

The elevator ride was painfully quiet, what even is there to say. I opened the apartment door, guiding the barely conscious Tara inside. Immediately, I saw Sam, sitting in the kitchen. Waiting for us.

"Where were you?" she interrogated, "I was scared out of my mind."

"Hey, Sam, she's pretty fucked up right now, maybe you should wait for her to sober up. I'm gonna get her to sleep, okay?" She nods, angrily. I can tell she isn't happy about this.

I walkedvTara down to her room, setting her down on the bed.

"Goodnight, Tara," I smiled, helping her take off her shoes and pulling the blankets up over her.

"Night Night, pretty girl," she pulled my face down for a quick kiss.

What the fuck is happening? I could taste the burning liquor on her lips. She's gonna have one hell of a headache in the morning. I quickly break away, I can't do this while she's drunk.

The second time we kiss, she's actually sober.

It's a silly situation, really.

We're at Rockefeller center, shopping for clothes on sale. They put up the ice rink for the winter. Even though it's technically November, I guess New York doesn't care about technical seasons though.

Tara and I stroll down the pavement, warm coffee in our hands. She's very cute all bundled up in her winter gear. A beanie compresses her bangs, and her winter coat looks nearly suffocating yet not nearly arm enough for a New York winter.

"Fuck," she mumbles, looking behind us.

"What's wrong?" I ask, concerned.

"I need you to kiss me, right now," she commands.

"Damn, at least take me out to dinner first," I laugh awkardly.

"Y/N, shut up and do it, I'll explain later," she pleads. I happily oblige her, allowing her lips to make their way to mine. She caresses my cheek through her gloved hands, and I find myself lost in a daze. She's good at this. Her hands slide down my face to wrap themselves around my neck and she slowly breaks the kiss. A part of me wished it would never end.

"So you wanna tell me what that was about?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Creepy ex, wanted to make sure he didn't think he had a shot," she explains. My face falls. Such an amazing experience, ruined by the context.

"I'm sorry, Tar," I pull her closer to me, wrapping my arms around her.

We kiss for a third time a month later.

"Hi," I smile, walking through the apartment door, "why'd you call?"

"I don't know, I'm just bored I guess," she shrugs.

"Okay," I say. To be honest, I needed something to do with my afternoon, and who better to spend it with.

We decide to put on a movie, Clueless. I found some popcorn in the cabinet, so I decided to microwave some up.

I place the metal bowl between us on the couch. I think if I'm much closer to her I might try to kiss her again.

"So, what have you been doing these past few weeks?" she asks.

"The usual," I respond, "homework, my job, and sleeping. And you?"

"Yeah, just homework," she purses her lips, trying to think.

God what I would give to feel those soft warm lips again.

"No, I've also been reading some weird ass Stephen King book about a guy going crazy."

"So pretty much every Stephen King book?" I ask.

"Not true!" she playfully shoves me, "IT is about multiple people going crazy. The Dark Half is about someone who thinks he's crazy, but also knows he's not. There's lots of non insanity related ones too."

"Nerd," I playfully tease her.

"Shut up," she laughs.

"Make me?" I tease her more.

"Nope, sorry, you gotta earn that," she teases back.

I open a beer for each of us, "It's happy hour somewhere."

"It's 4:30, so we're not doing terribly," she reminds me.

"We're great at this," I joke.

"So great at this."

We go back to the movie, it's such a classic. Other than the ending, it's a perfect movie.

She smiles a priceless smile when Cher assumes Tai doesn't know seven multiplied by seven.

"This girl! I swear, she was a perfect casting for Tatum in Stab!"

"You have a great smile," I muse aloud, quickly regretting it. Damn it. Why did I say that?

"Thank you," I can see a blush creeping up her cheeks as she starts to smile even wider.

The movie seems to fade out of view as does everything else except us. The popcorn bowl is quickly discarded and her lips crash onto mine, kissing with a desperation so strong it's almost aggressive. I immediately reciprocate the kiss, leaning forward to get closer to her.

"If we do this," she pants in between kisses, "there's no strings attached."

I nod in agreement.

We fall into a routine of kissing or hooking up no strings attached. I know friend with benefits never works. Especially if you already have feelings for that person but god, she's irresistible.

There's two notable times after that afternoon when it feels different.

The first time, she's coming out of a rough therapy session.

"Hello, this is Y/N L/N," I answer the phone.

"Hey, Y/N, it's Tara," I can hear her voice crack.

"Hey Tara, what's up?" I ask.

"C-can you come over?" she says, trying to sound nonchalant about it. I see right through her facade.

"On my way, stay safe, pretty girl," I rush to the subway, trying to catch the first train I can to her side of the city.

I practically tear down the door to get into the apartment, there's nothing to do but make a beeline for Tara's room.

"Hey Tar, I'm here," I quietly announce.

She bolts up and wraps herself around me in a near suffocating hug. Her tears soak their way through my shirt, and I caress her hair comfortingly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask.

"No," she shakes her head.

"Can I do anything at all to help?"

"You can distract me," she winks. I nod, a little unsure of what to do.

Is this really the right time to hook up with her? Like she should be in a place of emotional stability to properly consent, right?

"Y/N, I know your like panicking about the morals, but please. Just do it. I need it. Please?" she widens her eyes pleadingly. How can I say no to that?

The next time of note is also the last time.

I've become unhappy with this whole "friends with benefits thing." I know, it was stupid of me to agree to it in the first place. And don't get me wrong, I've had tons of fun. So much fun. But there's limits to our situation.

I want to be able to tell her how I feel, I want strings attached. I want to take her out on dates, and hold her hand in front of our friends.

It's a freezing cold Thursday, I'm so tired. I forgot my textbooks at Tara's apartment after our "study" session last night, so i had to take a subway back to get them, which made me late the the only lecture I was interested in. Damn it.

I had thirty minutes to kill until my next class, so here I am, in the school courtyard, thinking about Tara.

Do I love her? Yes.

Does she love me? I don't know.

Will telling her I need to be more than just friends with benefits risk everything? Yes.

Speak of the devil and she shall appear, because right as I'm thinking about this, I see a short brunette making a beeline towards me. I think this means we need to discuss this.

"Hey there, tiny Carpenter," I tease her.

"Shut up!" she gets on the tips of her toes to pat my head.

"Do you wanna come over tonight?" I ask, "Anika and Mindy are having a date night?" I figure then would be a good time to tell her.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur and just a few hours later, I hear Tara's familiar voice at my door.

I take a deep breath, "Hey Tar, can we talk? I ask.

"What's up?" she asks.

"I feel like this isn't working," I admit, it's pretty obvious almost immediately what I'm talking about.

"O-oh," she stammers, "why?"

Oh god this is so awkward, like what are you supposed to say, yeah no I'm in love with you.

"I.... cuz friends with benefits never works out when there's feelings involved," I word vomit.

"Oh...."

"Yeah...."

We sit in an awkward silence.

"Tara, please say something," I say quietly.

"I'm so sorry, I can't do this anymore," she gets up and leaves, but I'm frozen in my seat. Unable to move.

I don't see Tara except in a few classes for at least a month. Though it could have been longer or shorter. Not like I want to see her though.

The days begin to blend together in a big lengthy mess.

I barely turn my assignments in, and the best grade I've gotten was a low C.

I go to parties more often than before. Hooking up with strangers, drinking myself to a blackout and being hungover as hell in the morning.

Anika's voiced her concern for me, but I find it so hard to listen.

I'm just numb.

I don't think I ever felt anything before I met Tara, and I don't think I'll feel anything again without her.

And to think of all the times we've kissed, made out and hooked up. Did those mean anything to her? She barely meets my gaze in class.

We haven't talked at all.

Lying down in my bed, I stare at the ceiling, out of the corner of my eye, I can see the date on the calendar.

March 7. It's been four months since our kiss at Rockefeller. I guess I should just forget about that though.

I hear a quiet knocking on my door, "come in, Anika.

The door slowly creaks open and in steps Tara.

"Hey," she says quietly. I scramble up to my feet, preparing to tell her to get out.

"Before you scream at me and tell me to go away, just let me talk?"

I nod wondering why can I never say no to her. I gesture for her to sit next to me.

"Look, I fucked up," she admits, "friends with benefits almost never works out. And I'm so so sorry. I didn't realize fucking it up would mean hurting you. I really thought about what you said."

"What did I say?" I asked.

"That what we had wasn't working," she says.

"And what have you decided?"

"It wasn't," she reassured me, "but it could."

I'm totally taken aback, "If you think I want to be 'just a friend that you sometimes fuck,' you're crazy, Tara."

"No, I mean a real relationship," she blurts.

"Huh?"

"Y/N, I have feelings for you!" she exasperatedly exclaims.

"Y-you do?" I ask incredulously.

"Yeah, I do," I see a blush creep up her cheeks.

"Well I like you too," I smile. She starts to get closer to me, but I stop her, "Look, give me a week to turn around my mental wellbeing, and I'll take you out on a date. I want to do this, but I want to do it right."

"Take your time," she smiles back, "see ya on Saturday for this 'date' you wanna take me on."

She winks, gets up, and leaves the dorm, blowing me a kiss on the way out.

We're gonna make this work.

[thefallennightmare]

Comfort-Noah Sebastian

*gif created by me. feel free to use(sorry for the poor quality)*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings: language, mentions of period, and all-around good fluff.

Summary: Reader suffers from really bad period cramps and Noah takes care of her the only way he knows how.

Authors Note: Again, to the anon who requested this, I'M SO SORRY! I completely forgot so I really hope this makes up for it.

"Angel?"

A soft voice sounded from the other side of the door, followed by a gentle knock. I peered over the piles of blankets that I cocooned myself under and called out that the door was open.

"How're you feeling?" Noah asked with a frown.

I sighed and clutched my lower stomach. "The pain is terrible and the warm compress doesn't seem to do much."

It was like this every month for five days. My period cramps were awful, the pain causing me to be stuck in bed for days. Sometimes it would be so bad that I'd be hunched over the toilet, throwing up. It wasn't anything I enjoyed, so I always made sure that I stayed home away from Noah during those five days once a month. However, since we moved in together last month, this was the second time he'd been able to witness firsthand the pain I went through. And just like last month, he was there for whatever I needed.

"I ran you a warm bubble bath if you think you can make it to the bathroom," he nodded towards the bathroom across the hall.

I sat up slowly. "You didn't have to do that."

Noah shrugged before pulling off the mounds of blankets and taking the now cold compress that I was using to soothe my cramps.

"Soak as long as you need and I'll make you something to eat. What do you want?"

Ignoring the shooting pain that spread across my abdomen, I left a kiss on his lips in a way of saying thanks for running me a bath.

"Honestly, surprise me. Anything sweet."

With a gentle pat to my ass, Noah led me to the bathroom where he parted ways with me to trot back downstairs while I spent the next twenty minutes in the tub letting the warm water and bubbles ease some of the pain away.

Once dressed in a pair of Noah's sweats and oversized shirts, I slowly made my way downstairs to the kitchen where I saw Noah leaning over the sink, mixing something in a bowl. He had yet to get dressed for the day, baring all of his tattoos on his stomach, chest, and arms for all, or just me, to see. His long hair was a disheveled mess, but he still looked absolutely breathtaking. If I wasn't on my period, I'd probably make him take me on the counter.

He peered over his shoulder as he heard me walk in, a bright smile on his face. "Did the bath help?"

I nodded while sitting at our kitchen table. "It did, actually. Thank you again."

"Anytime, angel. French toast is almost finished. There's a glass of orange juice and some meds to help with the pain," Noah nodded to the glass and two pills that lay on the table in front of me.

My heart warmed with yet another small but kindest action from him today. After drowning the meds down with half of the orange juice, Noah brought me a plate of steaming hot French toast which I could only eat about half before the cramps made me hiss out in pain.

"Still bad?" he wondered, pushing his empty plate away.

"Yeah, I feel terrible. We had plans to go to the fair with Jesse, but I don't think I can handle walking for hours," I sighed.

Suddenly, Noah's arms pulled me from the chair, and carried me bridal style through the kitchen into the living room where the couch was set up with an array of blankets and pillows, the title screen to my favorite movie on the television.

"What's this?" I asked with a hint of a smile.

As he placed me on the couch and covered me with blankets, he sunk deep next to me, and I wrapped an arm and leg around him. The comfort of the large couch was exactly what I needed in order to deal with this pain.

"This," he pointed to the television. "Is our plans for the rest of the day. If you feel up for it, we can go to the fair tomorrow."

I stared up at him with so much adoration in my eyes that my heart swelled up in two sizes. Everything he had done since the moment I woke up this morning made every single cell in my body vibrate with love; something I'd never thought I'd get from a partner. I was sure if I told someone I was with that I was on my period, the flow heavy and cramps so bad that I could barely move sometimes breath, they would ditch me for the week and come back when I wasn't a mess.

But not Noah. He even changed the sheets this morning when I woke up to the blood staining my pants and the bed. Not once did he turn away in disgust or avoid me? He was what I thought every partner should be for their significant other.

Turning his chin towards me, I placed a firm but quick kiss on his lips, one he had no issue returning.

"I love you," I smiled into the kiss.

Noah brushed his nose over mine. "Anything for you, angel."

[softtdaisy]

heyyyy i was wondering if you could use these two prompts for mick :)

"is the pillow wall really necessary?"

“can i come over tonight? is that stupid to ask?”

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x female!reader

Words: 1296

A/n: I'm so sorry it took me so long!! I was waiting for the perfect inspo for this story and i’m actually proud of it so i hope you will love it 

“I can’t believe you want me to watch that movie, again.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Mick’s desperate tone through the phone. You knew he would be mad that you wanted to watch 13 going on 30 for the second time this week. But you also knew he wouldn’t say no. Mick never said no to anything that wasn’t a real problem. And let’s be honest, watching a romcom with you was never a problem. 

Mostly because you were alternating every movie night. And he made you watch an action movie the other night.

You’ve been doing this for weeks now. You knew Mick for several years but never really got to know him. Or even talk to him, actually. Your father was a mechanic and you loved going to the Grand Prix with him. That was how you met most drivers and Mick has always been such a sweetheart with you. You still couldn’t understand why you never talked more before.

Then, the last time you went to the Grand Prix, the weather was terrible. You were supposed to go for a drink with some friends but ended up staying at your hotel bar. Luckily, Mick was in the same situation. You spend the whole evening together talking about movies and cinema. Hours flew by and you both couldn’t stop adding something to the conversation. You never wanted it to end. It was like meeting your soulmate.

“We should watch movies together.” Mick offered. You immediately accepted. It was quite the perfect opportunity for you both. You were living alone and being by yourself every single night started to be a burden. Mick was still traveling a lot and he was feeling homesick most of the time. Especially because, even if he loved the team, he was also by himself.

Basically, that was how it started. At least three times per week, you were watching a movie with Mick without being together. Sometimes you were just commenting by messages and then calling each other to discuss it. Sometimes you watched the movie with a video call so you could chat and see each other’s reaction.

Nothing builds a relationship better than a shared passion. Mick slowly became one of your closest friends. But it would be a lie to not admit he was becoming more than a friend. There was something intimate in sharing your favorite movies with someone, with calling them almost every day and knowing everything about them. 

There was something intimate in falling asleep while still on the phone and waking up with the image of Mick sleeping in his hotel room too.

“It’s my night!” you replied to Mick’s complaint. “You can’t disagree with my choice.”

“We should have a rule that we can’t watch the movie two times in a week.”

“Well it’s too late for tonight.”

You put Mick on speakers while making dinner. You were cooking your favorite meal. One that happened to be Mick’s one too. What a coincidence. Maybe he could feel it through the phone. Or maybe he added some secret cameras in your apartment the one time he came. But he took you by surprise when he said “Are you cooking what I think you’re cooking?”

“Yes I am, Schumacher.” you laughed. 

“Can I come over tonight? Is that stupid to ask?” you heard him say. It wouldn’t be the first time Mick came to your place. He helped you after a Grand Prix weekend, which also happened to be your birthday weekend, and you came back with more bags that you could handle. He offered to make a detour and help you instead of letting you round trips in the stairs.

But you never did a movie night at your place. Or his. When Mick was in town he was often occupied and you couldn’t ask to steal a night or two with him. It would be a first. A good first.

And less than thirty minutes later, Mick was standing in your kitchen. He helped you with the dinner. Not specially with the cooking, no. More with the laughing either with the jokes or the mistakes he made. “I’m a terrible assistant, right?” he asked with some sauce on the nose. God knows how he managed to get that.

“Well, at least I don’t have to watch TV when you’re here.” 

After dinner, and while you were cleaning, Mick offered to prepare your room for the movie night. You imagined he would just look for the movie, hoping he wouldn’t trick you with it, and wait for you. But when you arrived in your own bedroom, you were surprised to see a literal pillow wall in the middle of your bed. You laughed for the situation as much as for the proud face he made.

"Is the pillow wall really necessary?" You asked when you reached the bed.

“Well, I know for sure that you take a lot of places in bed so…” he didn’t even finish his sentence before you hit him with the pillow.

The real excuse behind his architecture construction was that Mick was scared he might react, laying by your side. You had always been the girl he had a crush on since he entered F1. You were always there somehow, either close to him or on the other side of the paddock. But you were always sweet and he always felt like he was part of your world if you barely talked until a few months ago.

When this all started, he felt like living a dream. How lucky could he be to get to spend so much time with the girl he loved? But there were inconveniences too. Like listening to you speaking about your previous relationship or how you imagined the perfect one for you. Feeling so close and so far away from you at the same time. Accepting that, maybe, he won’t ever be more than just a movie friend for you.

He was glad that you didn’t break everything immediately and accepted to lay on your favorite side. He felt protected. Nothing could go wrong like this, he won’t let his love show without any warning.

Having no idea that you were struggling with the same issue, by your side. And watching one of your favorite rom coms with the man of your dreams next to you wasn’t as you expected it to be. In a perfect world, you would be in his arms, living your own favorite.

But nobody said you couldn’t make your life a perfect world.

You were blind either. And you noticed how Mick was fighting with own arm, like he wanted to put it around you but was containing himself. So pillow after pillow, you broke the wall between you. He didn’t notice immediately, or he was pretending not to see. It wasn’t until you put a hand on his arm that Mick turned his head. “Where is the wall?”

“Destroyed.” you answered with a sweet smile. 

There was something intimate with spending so much time with someone, even through screen. You both could read each other like an open book. And Mick knew that you were waiting for him to make a step, after you made the first one. 

So he did.

He finally let his arm around your shoulder so you could cuddle against him. When he felt like you were comfortable enough, which wasn’t hard because that man was a living pillow, he put his lips on your forehead to kiss you. “Now you don’t have any excuses to start watching horror movies,” he whispered.

But to be fair, you could watch the worst movies in the entire world that it wouldn't matter anymore. Not as long as you have Mick by your side.

[chaifootsteps]

Something that i find really funny about the Vivziepop fandom, is that they baby her and her actions, and get mad at people who doesnt.

I once saw this post on twitter from a fan bitching about how they had to take away their like in a post of redesigns of the Hazbin characters, because they discovered that the artist who did these "was a Vivzie anti". They went on a rant about how people shouldnt shit on Vivziepop's designs because "why do you have to bring down another artist's work? We artists should stick together and support each other!".

Okay, first, the "artists should support each other! 💖" doesnt apply to "artists" that are terrible fucking people, just like Vivzie. They dont deserve support, especially because they use said support and fame to hurts others, period.

Second, is it just me or Vivzie defenders live in a completely different world from us? Because by the way they treat and talk about Vivziepop and her "getting attacked" (aka, facing the the consequences of her actions) by others, they seem to think she is some 14yo who does nothing but post her OCs on Deviantart and need proctection from the "antis" because she will quit art if she gets more than 5 mean comments on her South Park fanfic.

But, newsflash for those people, she isnt.

She is a grown ass woman, who's making a shit ton of money from making not one, but two cartoons about her ugly OCs by abusing and overworking her workers and producers, and internet criticism couldnt affect her career at all anymore.

The only reason hy she would been affect in any way by stranger's criticism, is because she is a huge baby with a fragile ego who throws a big fit on Twitter dot com every time she sees that people have enough braincells to see that her shows arent the masterpiece she thinks it is.

She doesnt need your kind words, she doesnt need you to proctect her from internet meanies, and she doesnt need your "artists should stick together 🥺" bs.

All she needs and wants from you is your money.

Its so unfair how i see actuall small, indie artists who could have help from other artists gets treated absolutelly horriblly by everyone or just plain ignored, while Miss "two whole shows of her OCs" cant even have her designs be criticised because "mimimi artists should support each other 🥺🥺🥺" no, fuck off.

It's absolutely bizarre. They really do treat her like a 14-year-old kid posting their first ever Sonic recolor, and also like she's their best friend.

Viv wouldn't piss on half these people if they were on fire unless there was something in it for her.

[physalian]

When a Villain’s “Villainy” Dismisses Their Valid Argument For Change (Or, Marvel)

Marvel stories aren’t the only ones that pull the whole “this villain has a very valid and justified stance on something socially acceptable but actually terrible and- oh, nvm, they’re a murderer, thus they’re totally bad,” schtick, but they’re the loudest voices.

Pop Culture Detective did this deep dive into how the “Avengers” really are “Avengers” (as opposed to “Prevengers,” like Tony points out) because they don’t have any initiatives or social stances that promote change, they just stop villains from making change. Most damning example of this character is Killmonger.

Excellent deep dive, go watch it. I won’t regurgitate it here. Instead, I’ll talk about how these villains are also attempts at having depth and nuance and are very hit-and-miss about it.

So. Villains with nuance: How to write a character with something to say, while showing that their way of going about it is wrong, while also still agreeing that they were right.

—

This isn’t actually that hard, y’all. Marvel doesn’t do it because they don’t want to piss off the rich people or be “woke”.

So say I have my antagonist named…. Wilson.

Wilson’s goal: prison reform/dismantling the for-profit punitive “justice” system that works to keep people in the system instead of helpful rehab.

Wilson’s motivation: that his dad got incarcerated for possession of drugs, and through a series of Very Bad and Corrupt Legal Practices, Wilson’s dad spent 45 years in prison and died there.

Wilson’s plan: peacefully protest, then when that doesn't work and he's exhausted all other legal avenues, systematically blackmail every cop, justice, and prison employee that he deems corrupt, racist, etc, on the grounds of either “just following orders” or “that’s how it was” isn’t good enough in effort to get them fired/ruin their lives. Doesn’t matter how involved in his dad’s incarceration these people are, Wilson wants to make a statement, and he’s going to make it as loud as possible.

Enter the hero: Sarah.

She’s the seasoned detective trying to catch him because crime is crime and he’s done a lot of it.

Marvel’s hypothetical version of this story: Wilson joins and organizes several peaceful protests and marches and nonviolent gatherings, gathering a vocal following that’s concerning to local, then national, government officials when he gains more power than they’re comfortable with. Around halfway through the story, Wilson breaks and starts randomly murdering these same people just so the audience doesn’t start to root for him.

Marvel’s solution: Wilson ends up in prison, or dead from a high and ambiguous fall, due to his own actions because murder is bad and he’s done a lot of it. Prison reform, what?

Or: Wilson ends up in prison because he still committed violence against a lot of innocent people and the punishments he enacted didn’t fit their crimes. The populace remains horrified by his actions, mourn the corrupt government people, and claim this is exactly why the prison system is the way it is. Sarah, however, understands that Wilson was right, and works for the rest of her career on enacting prison reform.

You know, Zootopia did this pretty well, for a kids’ movie, by having Judy publicly admit that what they’re doing is wrong and try to change it, while also simultaneously botching it entirely.

Ironically, Marvel does have a property that tries its damndest to do the “villain actually has a point, he’s just going about proving it the wrong way” and that’s X-Men. Their best efforts aren’t the ‘ha ha CGI explosion of cool mutant powers’ but the social commentary these characters were meant to reflect.

You can write a villain with a point. But if you’re going to go far enough to make a polarizing statement in your work, knowing it will piss people off, commit to that message and don’t abandon it the second you’ve made them “irredeemable”.

That, and, like Zootopia, it gives your hero so much more nuance when they can admit their staunch, heroic worldview is flawed and needs growth, or complete dismantling, and that hard life lessons can come from anywhere, not just their heroes—particularly when they themselves are an archetypical “hero”. (also killing this complicated villain instead of giving them the chance to see the proper enactment of the change they want to see in the world is a huge missed opportunity).

Not limited to superhero stories, either, or hot button issues like prison reform. Do it in fantasy with fantasy bigotry. It doesn’t have to be a huge global plot either. “Critical voice is painted as the villain and resorts to unsavory-to-illegal activity to stay alive and/or promote their cause” also fits plenty of war stories big and small.

Heck, go even smaller, with lower stakes, and you could write about a high school bully victim who goes too far in trying to get justice/catharsis when the law doesn’t do enough about it. Write about a dysfunctional family. This trope is so flexible it’s disappointing how rarely it’s done well.

Whatever the case:

Make a problem in the world of your story that the society/powers that be of that story doesn’t actually think is a problem, or isn’t doing enough to solve

Make solving this problem the villain’s goal

Make the villain’s plan to solving this problem deeply flawed and the wrong way to do it

Make the hero (and the narrative) recognize that their intentions are in the right place, the actions aren’t, but the villain’s plight was heard, and the hero, presumably with the social and political power to enact real change, resolves to make that change.

The villain loses, but they also still win.

I am sick and tired of throwing the whole character out and trying to eat your cake and have it, too, pretending to have a deep and nuanced narrative that ends up saying nothing more than “crime is always wrong no matter the circumstances if the governing bodies aren’t paying you to commit those crimes.”

I’m not a huge fan of Black Panther (I think by that point my Marvel fatigue on all these new characters was starting to creep in), but they really did Killmonger dirty, didn’t they?

[milkyyawns]

one piece headcanons that mean nothing to most people but everything to me

put in no particular order because organizing my brainwaves would take too much energy today

Usopp is the second best cook of the crew, but has 0 gauge for how spicy his food is. he will smile and say its sweet while your mouth is on fire Sanji is very good at braiding hair

Sanji is secretly jealous that Usopp became a hunk over timeskip. He was really huffy over the change for a second before he found out he could lift Usopp with one hand. Sanuso thought on this; Sanji did not mind the view.

Everyone in the crew is funny but Jinbei is declared the funniest due to his ability to always deliver it in the best way possible.

There is a communal baby sling for Chopper, but Robin also made a really pretty one that she doesn't allow anyone else to use. It's not because Chopper WANTS to be in the baby sling(he likes it, tho), its out of convenience sake. Brook is a swinger

Zoro is chronically unable to grow facial hair, in secret he has asked Chopper and Law if there is any remedy. He doesn't have any body hair either. After timeskip Usopp came back with hair all over him, Zoro thought he did SOMETHING to cause this to happen. You can imagine the mortal shame he felt when he asked and Usopp said he shaved every day, and started to like facial hair on him after he got buffer. One time he tried to make a fake beard for himself, it looked terrible so he tried to wipe it off and it wouldn't budge. He went up to Nami and ended up paying 10k berries to keep her silence. Robin makes a habit of picking the other crew mates brains, especially once she opened her shell and whenever a new member joined. When Law appeared it took him avoiding her like the plague to not open up, and after 5 days he had to give in.

Like Luffy, Robin has the ability to figure out what someone needs to hear. Jinbei didn't know this until one day out of nowhere she walks up to him and invites him to relax with her, and she confessed later on in the day he seemed to be having a Rough Time and she wanted to remind him that he can take it easy when his brain is bothering him, and beyond that he can vocalize the thoughts and get them out of his brain. They have weekly self care nights together because of this and slowly the entire crew ends up joining. Luffy is very very creepy, but only to Sanji specifically. Luffy has decided its a game to try to get into the kitchen so he hides on the ceiling and crawls very slowly. Sanji catches him every time but the first few times it scared the shit out of him (he will never admit that, however.)

Robin is as much of a pervert as Franky, but it's a dialogue you have to unlock with her because she refuses to make people uncomfortable. Once you do, every once in a while a pair of lips appear next to your ear and say the freakiest joke imaginable. Nami will break out laughing in the middle of conversations because of it

Robin says the freakiest shit imaginable. theres no context to this shes just offputting.

every once in a while when Nami is feeling homesick, she intrusts Sanji with a orange based recipe from her mother. Sanji collects all of them and makes them when she thinks shes having a bad day. when she requests it to be made its special and they use HER fresh oranges, which she usually only hands over in small amounts. Nami can only make sweets and fruit based dishes. She usually stole her way into a good meal instead of cooking for herself.

Usopp has gone up to every single member of the crew and made multiple portraits for lost loved ones. It's like an initiations ceremony when he walks up with his sketchbook and sits down a new crew mate and starts asking questions. Everybody was very warmed by this but Brook specifically wrote an entire song because of how moved by this action he was.

Nobody will tell Luffy what vore is. They are scared he will start doing it. Usopp is to blame for him knowing that vore is a thing and nobody will let him live it down. (not sexual, obviously)

instead of what most fics do with Sanji being internally homophobic, my personal opinion is that hes actually terrified of hurting the other person. Its not that he doesnt want to be gay, its that he doesnt know how to show love as a man to another man. (For sanuso fans; Sanji confides in Usopp on this matter, and Usopp says in the most matter of fact way. "I dont know how to date anybody. Isnt the point of dating to figure out how each other love? What does gender have to do with it?" and it absolutely broke his brain, and healed something within himself. i lightly touch this in my sanusoami fic !)

Usopp makes gadgets on any occasion. If he hears you complain about the smallest thing once he will somehow make an item to fix that tiny little issue.

Sanji used to shave his legs until one day he overhears Nami say leghair is sexy, he to this day does not know that the context was her talking about Vivi and her's last night together. turns out the weird irritating feeling he had was him hating bare skin against his pants when fighting, and he never went back "Big Man" is Choppers formal nickname. Zoro calls him little man sometimes too but no one else does. Zoro can't read. (i know im not the only one who thinks this) Robin spies on the crew unless shes asleep when they're on the sunny. only Franky has caught on that she does it. she claims that its for security (which he doesn't deny is part of it) but he's convinced it's to slowly torture everybody in the most passive way possible. exhibit a: if she finds out something embarrassing she will almost talk about it for a week straight

i had an entire mental health thing i wanted to get into but i broke the limit halfway through. will do another post with it soon

[c-t-r-l14]

Dontis Is Written So Amazingly Well.

It wasn’t a surprise when I found out he killed people. It was implied in the first episode we’ve seen him in that he did some things that he wasn’t proud of; and in the second episode, he even told the hunter that it was a shame he couldn’t get drunk, because there was some things things that he’d rather forget; even if it was for a little while. Him killing people in order to survive didn’t make him a bad person—and when you live a life as a being like Dontis or Xanthus—you will eventually get into situations where killing to survive or dying at the hands of your enemies will bring you an ultimatum.

What surprised me was that Dontis wasn’t always this wise and gentle.

Before this audio, I thought that he’d only kill out of necessity—that he’d exhaust all his other options first before he’d think about taking another person’s life. I thought that he’d always tried to help people out, make sure to protect the innocent when needed, and try to understand all the sides before he passes judgement onto other people. But that was never the case.

Dontis was once cruel. He had betrayed innocent people. Dontis was once selfish. He put other people in harms way so he could be able to live another day. He trusted no one, and was wary of the world. He wasn’t filled with faith, nor optimism, nor empathy, nor understanding.

He was not filled with love.

He did these things because in a world full of humans and supernaturals—one of them will try their hardest to be on top of the food chain. In this world, the strong survive, and the weak perish. In this world, it is kill or be killed. And as far as Dontis knew, there was no room for kindness or trust.

One of the things I really loved about this audio was that we were indirectly shown Dontis’ thought process when it came to him forgiving hunter listener for everything they have done. Before, he’d preach about how “all someone needs is a helping hand,” and, “sometimes, a little kindness goes a long way,” and while I do I agree with sentiment, I still couldn’t wrap my head around how exactly Dontis could be so forgiving to the people who had wronged him so badly. And now, because of this audio, I finally get it.

Dontis was in their place once, too.

He knows what it’s like to be filled with hate and spite; to drown in it and have it consume you—and rule your life. He knows what it’s like to take a life; he’s done horrible things too. The reason why he’s so forgiving is simply because he’s probably experienced what they’ve went through, too. And he feels like he can’t judge people because that’d simply make him a hypocrite—because he has done bad things, too. He had made terrible choices. Choices he will have to live with. Choices he will regret for the rest of his life. And when Dontis gives advice or comforts others, I get the strong feeling that he is trying to be the companion he wished he had during those first few decades of his life.

Another thing I really loved about this audio was how it showed that Hunter listener and Dontis are parallels of each other. Dontis was young, and full of spite and wariness. When he had met that Turkish woman, he really thought that she was going to be just like all the rest of the humans he’d met before her. He thought that she wouldn’t hesitate to sell him out if it meant saving her life—or that she’d use and abuse him, but that was never the case. She simply needed love. She simply wanted company. This woman single handedly showed Dontis that not every single human he was going to meet would bad person. And as ironic as it sounds, her actions made Dontis gain some humanity of his own.

When hunter listener finally caught and trapped Dontis, they were just like him when he was younger. They hated supernatural beings and killed them before even getting a chance to know them—simply because they knew WHAT they were without getting to know WHO they were. But, in a strange turn of events, it was Dontis who made them realize the truth. It was Dontis who helped them forget their pain for a little while; Dontis, who gave them a second chance at living a good life—free from all the violence and acts of terror they have committed. And it was Dontis who have given them a different perspective on the beings they have once despised and condemned.

The lady is to Dontis as Dontis is to the hunter.

I feel like Dontis’ story—all of the struggles, pain, and suffering he has went through in order to become the beautiful, loving, caring person he is today, really reminds people that compassion and empathy aren’t things you are born with; nor is hatred and spite. Those behaviors are learned and taught. And I have totally forgotten that—because up until today, I’ve only gotten to see the type of person Dontis has become, and never thought about the type of person he once was.

Saku’s mind—his ability to write characters with so much depth and development—is absolutely insane. And honestly, this audio makes me love and appreciate Dontis even more than before.

Masterlist

[scintillyyy]

an unedited follow up to this :)

***

"Careful," Dick says softly, leaning in close to Bruce. "You keep making that expression and your face might get stuck that way." Bruce's glower deepens even further before he methodolically unclenches every single facial muscle to plaster on a smile instead. It takes everything in Dick not to roll his eyes at Bruce's usual dramatics. "Seriously, Bruce?" he continues on. "I don't know what you're so upset about anyway. The Clench running rampant would have decimated Gotham in a matter of days. It's objectively a good thing that these people managed to find the cure before that could happen."

"Timothy Drake," Bruce growls. "Once again, he's involved himself in the middle of something he has no business being in the middle of. If he had a cure, he should have come to me. Not do--whatever this is. He gives us information as if to help us do the mission, but then undercuts our work by intervening himself. What are his motives? Can we trust him? How does he know what he knows? He won't tell us, there's no clarity in his actions, and I can't allow him to place Gotham in danger with his enigmatic plans and reckless behavior-"

And there it is. Bruce's little snit today is about his ongoing, one-sided fued with an extremely annoying--but ultimately harmless and, honestly, actually a little helpful--know-it-all of a fourteen year old boy. Dick doesn't bother to stop himself from rolling his eyes this time.

"Put in danger? Bruce, he saved a lot of lives," Dick says. "Just because he didn't do it the way you wanted him to--he still saved the city-" Bruce grunts at that. Dick stops himself at the sudden, horrible realization. "Oh my god," he says with a long suffering sigh. "You're upset that he saved the city instead of you. That's what you've got a bug up your butt about. Jesus Christ, Bruce. That's low, even for you."

Bruce gives him a dirty glare, opens his mouth as if to argue, when-

"Brucie!" Mayor Krol says. He's waving at them from the other side of the room, standing with a man, two women, and--standing there with a shit-eating grin on his face--Tim Drake. "Come over here and meet the family of the hour!" Bruce's expression darkens ever so slightly before immediately morphing back into its pleasant facade as he waves back.

"Be over there in just a second, Mr. Mayor," Bruce says, then lowers his arm. He turns back towards Dick. "I am not upset he saved the city," he says as they start making their way over. Which is a lie if Dick ever heard one. "But if he's going to help, he has to follow the rules." How typically terrible of Bruce. As usual. Dick rolls his eyes once again (they're going to roll right out of his face at this point) as they finally reach their destination. The mayor claps his hand on Bruce's shoulder with a boisterous laugh.

"So glad you could join us," Mayor Krol says, "I've been dying to introduce you all night. Bruce, this is Jack Drake, CEO of Drake Industries. Jack, this Bruce Wayne."

"Of course," the man says, sticking out his hand. "Bruce, so nice to finally meet you. We never would have been able to produce all the doses of the curr needed if Wayne Enterpises hadn't offered their assistance. Everyone's been praising our find all night, but we really couldn't have made it happen in time without you."

"Of course," Bruce replies smoothly, giving the other man a winning smile. "Wayne Enterprises would do anything to help this city. I must say, though," his smile turns a bit sharper. "I am still just absolutely amazed that you happened to find just the cure we needed right as we needed it. What an absolute stroke of luck."

"You're telling me," Jack says. "I still couldn't believe when Jan called to tell me that the dig team in Sudan found an ancient tablet with what seemed to be a cure for the Clench--of all things--written on it, right as the disease started spreading here. I almost didn't listen to her, but Tim--ah, this is my son, Tim"- He puts an arm around Tim's shoulders with a wide smile on his face-"Why he convinced me that we should at least have the boys down in the lab at least try to make it, see if it worked. 'What could it hurt?' the boy insisted. 'Isn't at least worth a shot?' And by god, he was right. When we found out it actually did neutralize the virus--why it felt like an absolute miracle-"

"Well, it sounds like we also have young Tim to thank, then," Bruce says. It's almost impressive how level he manages to keep his voice. "He's quite the hero, isn't he? Nice job there, son."

Tim's eyes are absolutely dancing. "Oh, Mr. Wayne," he says with an innocent expression on his face and places a hand over his heart. Dick snorts softly. The kid's actually a lot more funny than annoying when it's Bruce he's being a little shit to. "I'm no hero. I just thought that trying something was better than not trying at all."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly, Mr. Wayne. My mother would be absolutely aghast at my impoliteness if I did." Tim's voice is as demure as can be, but his eyes clearly convey that he knows he's being a little shit. Dick can almost hear the steam emanating from Bruce's ears.

"Please, call me Bruce. Mr. Wayne makes me sound so old," Bruce forces out a laugh.

"Oh, come now. I'm sure your mom would make an exception just for me." Bruce's eyes dart over the women, glancing over them as if to figure out which one is the mother in question.

It's the one on the right, with Tim's eyes. Dick recognizes her from the circus photo. Which means that the other woman must be Dana, the new girlfriend. That's something Dick really shouldn't know, but Tim keeps sending him the most inane emails like 'My dad's dating Dana now!' as if Dick actually cares about the relationship status of one Jack Drake. (He does care about how Tim Drake keeps getting his email, but that's a mystery for another day).

Jack must notice Bruce is looking for the mom in question because he pipes in- "So sorry, Bruce! We didn't finish our introductions, did we? Got a little side tracked, haha. This here is my ex-wife Janet, the head of Drake Industries' archeology division"- he motions to the blonde woman- "And my girlfriend Dana."-he takes the hand of the brunette.

"Aha," Bruce says. "Well, let me say: it is an absolute pleasure to meet both of you. Janet--I take it you're the Jan who found the tablet, then? Tell me, how was Sudan? Not too cold, I hope?"

Janet raises an eyebrow. She looks like she's barely refraining from rolling her eyes as well. Dick likes her already. "We managed the weather somehow," she responds drily. "And Sudan was very interesting--the temple we were excavating was quite a find. I just--it's still a little strange..."

"Oh?" Bruce says, excitement gleaming in his eyes at the chance to interrogate anything weird involving the Drakes. "What's strange?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing, really. I just could have sworn we were all set to go to Morocco after we completed our work in Turkey, not Sudan-"

"Oh, really?" Bruce asks. He sounds positively delighted at the potential for a slip up. "You don't say..."

"No, you definitely told me Sudan," Tim interrupts quickly. His voice betrays nothing, but there is a hint of panic in his eyes that Dick can see. Maybe something didn't quite go as planned this time.

"Hmmm. I did, did I?" Janet looks over at her son with a suspicious smile. Ah, that must be the snag Tim is worried about. His mom. "If you say so, Timmy, it must be true. My darling son wouldn't lie to me, after all. I must be misremembering." Tim just lets out a nervous laugh.

"I keep telling you, Jan, you are," Jack interjects. Dana is nodding her head in agreement. "The company records show that Morocco's not until next fall. Sudan was scheduled for after Turkey."

If looks could kill, Jack would be six feet under right about now. And he'd probably deserve it, too. Bruce is watching the entire exchange like a hawk, clearly analyzing and trying to put together a file in his head about the dynamics of the Drake family--as if that will help him solve the mystery of Timothy Jackson Drake.

Eh, maybe it will. All the information about them that Dick has certainly not asked for--but Tim keeps inflicting him with--paints the picture of a family as strange as the boy it produced. The gears seem to be turning in Bruce's head as he evaluates them, likely trying to figure out his best bet for getting any quality information out of gentle interrogation. He settles his gaze on the mom. Probably the best choice. Bruce is many things, but dumb is not one of them. "Well, Janet, regardless of where you were supposed to go, I would love to hear more about your little dig. Can I interest you in some delightful little appetizers and ask you more?"

To Janet's credit, the look on her face makes it seem like telling Bruce about her 'little dig' is the last thing she's interested in. Smart woman, that does sound like an awful time. But Jack gives her a pleading look over Dana's head--clearly the man can smell the opportunity in telling Bruce more about their digs--and she lets out a long suffering sigh and lets Bruce lead her away.

Jack and Dana turn their attention back to the mayor and Dick takes the opportunity to sidle next to Tim.

"I think your mom's onto you, you annoying little time traveler." Dick feels quite smug at figuring it out. Bruce is still stuck on the idea that maybe Tim had the power of precognition. It's always so enjoyable to beat him.

Tim just gives him a sly smile and a slow clap. "You figured it out, impressive." His expression morphs into mock sympathy, however. "But not that impressive this time. Babs got it about 4 months ago."

She did? And she didn't tell him? Damn it. The next time Dick sees her he's going to give her a piece of his mind. How dare she sit there and listen to his wild theories and spitballing when she knew exactly what was going on?

God, she was probably laughing at him the whole time, wasn't she?

Wait. Is that how Tim keeps getting-

Well, that's neither here nor there. That's a future Dick thing to deal with.

"Eh, whatever, you little brat," Dick says, nudging him ever so slightly. "At least I got it before Bruce." Tim's eyes crinkle up in amusement. Dick can't help but quirk his lips into a smile as well. "Anyways, you're not worried about your mom figuring it out?"

"I mean, yea, duh, of course I am." Tim purses his lips. "But it was probably inevitable. I kind of forgot she was always more on the ball about things than Dad. Doesn't help that she's the one who actually sets all the dig schedules, so of course she would realize that one got changed under her nose."

"She sounds like a smart lady," Dick says.

"She is." Tim smiles fondly. "She"- he stops and swallows hards, eyes glistening ever so slightly. -"She's going to do a lot of good." There's a story there, clearly, but Dick won't ask. Not right now, at least.

"Is that why you sent her to Sudan to find the cure for the Clench?" is what he settles on instead.

Tim smirks. "Nah, that was mainly to mess with Bruce. And I thought I'd do you a solid while I was at it."

Dick gives Tim a look of disbelief. "How on earth is any of this for my benefit?"

Tim grins widely. "Well, you see. We both know that if I had tried to give the cure straight to Bruce, he would've ignored it until someone else confirmed its authenticity, right?" Dick nods. They do both know that. "And, well, you see," Tim continues on, sounding quite pleased with himself. "If that had been the case, then Jean Paul would have been the one to save the day with the cure. And been the one to get the credit."

Dick narrows his eyes at Tim, scanning for any indication that the kid is just messing with him now. But for once, he seems completely guileless. Dick grunts. That would have been quite annoying, wouldn't it have? He looks at Tim thoughtfully, re-appraising his initial thoughts on the kid.

Somehow, Timothy Drake suddenly seems slightless less obnoxious than he did thirty minutes ago. Dare Dick say... almost likable, even? It almost seems unthinkable. It definitely calls for more consideration. Dick snickers as he loosens his tie. He shoots the kid a half smirk. Tim practically glows back at him. "This party is boring, right?" Dick asks casually.

Tim nods his head frantically. "So boring."

"Want to go do some target practice in the alleyway? Fifty points if you nail a goon in the nose."

Tim gets a delighted look on his face. "I was almost beginning to think you'd never ask."

[rambheem-is-real]

Ee Varsham Sakshiga [With the Rain as Our Witness]

My submission for #varadevaloveday!

On the way back from Vedha's housewarming party, Deva and Varadha run into a storm. They take shelter in a hut, and Varadha suggests Truth or Dare. Which is a terrible game to play when you've been pining over your best friend for more than two decades.

Or: Modern AU Varadeva

-

“If you’re tired, go to sleep, raa,” Deva tells Varadha, breaking the sound of raindrops hitting the windshield of their rental car. 

Damn, Varadha thinks. 

Was Varadha tired? Yes. Was he actually pretending to be sleeping so he could ogle the other man? Also yes. Now he could either deny it, forcing himself to stay awake when his eyes probably wouldn’t stay open after the next few minutes and look like an idiot, or he could actually go to sleep, missing out on the wonderful sight of Deva driving. The angle at which he lifted the arm closest to Varadha as he steered was enough to ensure Varadha could see the muscle hidden beneath Deva’s dress shirt, a rare article of clothing for someone who usually preferred ratty T-shirts or tank tops. Deva had complained about it, of course. 

“Why the fuck were these torture devices invented?” Deva had snapped, fed up with being unable to fasten the tie to his neck. Varadha, already dressed up, had just laughed at him. 

“How are you, at your big age, unable to tie a tie?”

Deva just pouted, eyes pleading. And how could Varadha resist that? 

He had obliged, sliding off his perch on Deva’s desk to help him. Varadha’s fingers had felt like they were touching a live wire with every brush of his fingers against Deva’s neck, and the scent of Deva’s cologne so close hadn’t helped matters. 

“There, now you won’t look like a hobo at Vedha’s housewarming party,” Varadha jokes. 

“Vedha dresses just like me,” Deva complains. 

“Not today, he won’t.” 

Varadha had been right, all of their friends had shown up wearing some of their best. Not as fancy as the suits they had been wearing for the wedding a few months ago, but still classy. 

Now, the tie had been loosened, laying around his neck in a way that had Varadha imagining different circumstances. It did nothing to conceal the way the first few buttons on Deva’s shirt had been loosened, exposing Deva’s chest. Hence, the secret ogling. Varadha pushes down the instinctive fear that Deva had realized what was going on, that he had somehow found out about Varadha’s feelings. If Deva hadn’t realized in the last thirty years they had known each other, he damn well wasn’t figuring it out now. 

“Alright,” Varadha sighs. “My wonderful driver, wake me up when we get to your home.”

Varadha closes his eyes and leans onto the window, smiling at the chuckle he hears. The sound is more of a deep rumble with Deva’s voice, and it’s heavenly. Still smiling, Varadha lets thoughts of Deva lull him into sleep. 

-

The sound of the wipers furiously scrubbing the windshield breaks Varadha out of his nap. He opens his eyes to see a blur of water droplets and vague images of the road ahead of them. 

“Arey, em kanipisthundi ra neeku? [Dude, what can you see?]” He scoffs. “The rain’s gotten so much worse.”

Deva grits his teeth. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep.” Varadha makes an incredulous sound, drawing Deva’s attention. He can see Deva briefly turn to him out of the corner of his eyes, and his tone softens. “Really, raa. It’s fine; it’s a straight road until we reach the state border. By that time the rain’s probably gonna be better.”

“You don’t know that-” Varadha gasps in the middle of his sentence. “DEER!”

Deva swerves on the wheel, slamming the breaks. They narrowly miss the brown creature annoyingly parked in the middle of the fucking road, and the action sends them hydroplaning onto the other lane where they stop. 

Varadha takes a second to calm himself, and Deva quickly turns to Varadha to scan him for injuries. They hadn’t even hit the deer, for fuck’s sake, but something in Varadha warms to see Deva being protective over him. However, the warmth won’t stop him from teasing the other man. After all, it was one of his favorite activities. 

“What are you looking at? Koncham road atu pothene gaayalosthaya?  [Just because we went a little bit out of the lane will I suddenly have injuries?]”

Seemingly satisfied with his scan, Deva just rolls his eyes. “Ah? Rani gariki antha sukhamgane unda ani, check chesthunna [Just checking to see if Her Majesty is still comfortable].” 

Varadha half-heartedly smacks Deva’s arm, before his eyes land on the dashboard GPS. 

“Rey, there’s no signal here,” he points out. 

Deva starts the car, pulling it into first gear. “I don’t need a GPS to tell me where to go.”

“Mahanubhavuda [Oh great man],” Varadha says, folding his hands sarcastically, “You can do whatever you want when you’re by yourself. Me personally, I don’t want to get lost outside in this rain. Stop by the side of the road. Let’s wait for the GPS to figure its shit out.” 

“I told you already, it’ll be fine-” Deva’s interrupted by the sound of the tires hitting a pothole, and they both wince as they jolt in their seats. 

Varadha scans what he can see of the road, and finds a small hut coming up by the side, a few feet in. 

“Rey, rey, rey, there’s something there, stop!” He taps Deva’s arm in succession. “We can wait out the storm.”

Deva sighs but acquiesces. He pulls over to the side, in front of the structure, which looks more like a hut now that Varadha can get a less blurry look at it. Deva turns to look at Varadha, giving him a happy now? look. 

Varadha just grins at him. For all his teasing, for all his insults, Deva would agree to do anything Varadha asked of him when the time came. Varadha slowly curls his hand around the door handle. 

“Last one to the hut pays for gas!” He barely finishes before he gets out. The rain pelts his back as he lifts a hand above his head, trying and failing to keep his hair dry. Varadha hears an indignant shout and a “Vara!” muffled behind him, and suppresses the giggle that wants to climb out of him as he enters the hut. 

First, he thinks smugly as he observes the interior. Never mind that he had had the advantage there. Not like Deva hadn’t ever pulled some shit like this before. Tom and Jerry, Deva’s mom had lovingly called them as kids when they wouldn’t stop fighting when Varadha came over. Only she had realized that behind each prank, behind each childish insult, was a deep bond of love, and that fighting with each other was just the way they expressed their affection. They could go from happily playing with toys, to getting into a wrestling match, to guiltily soothing each other, all within the span of a few minutes. 

Varadha briefly spares a thought to the fact that Atha [aunt/mother-in-law] might be worried that they hadn’t come back home yet. There was nothing to do now, though. A quick glance at his phone shows no bars, just as he had expected. He and Deva would just have to apologize once they got to his home. 

Deva runs in a second later, almost knocking Varadha over. He frowns as he examines what he can see of the cramped space they’re now in. Varadha pulls on the wire near his face, and is rewarded with a flickering, weak light above their heads. Now that they can see better, it’s clear the hut wasn’t meant for someone to live in. Neither of them would be able to lie down flat on the floor, the rounded walls would prevent that. 

“Rey Vara-” 

Oh, Varadha can’t take that tone. That gentle, you deserve so much better tone. He sits down fully, resting his back to the wall, before Deva finishes. He glares up at Deva, still standing, who just looks exasperated. 

“I’m fine,” Varadha stresses, and what a reversal that is. 

Deva hesitates for a few more seconds before he gives up and joins him, sitting across so their calves touch. 

Varadha hates these moments. He loves now living with Deva and Atha, and being able to be around Deva more. If he has to adjust to living less lavishly than he had growing up, that’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make. 

Deva doesn’t see it that way, though. Every time Varadha’s had to eat leftover rice, take public transportation, stand in the hot sun for more than a few minutes, he gets this look on his face, some combination of guilt and anger, the latter emotion only for Varadha’s ex-family, of course. It never seems to get into his head that Varadha’s fine with this, that he’s not so soft as to consider any of these more than minor inconveniences. Deva had been both elated and sad to hear that Varadha and Baachi had left the Mannars. 

Elated because he had been there for all of the times Varadha’s family had humiliated, hurt, and insulted them, all for the crime of being born to a different mother. It had been Varadha who had kept Deva from trying to get back at his siblings numerous times for the shit they had put him through. Sad, because it meant Varadha was leaving his comfortable life with his wealthy family, to come tough it out inside Deva’s apartment, which was barely big enough for Deva and Atha by themselves. 

Well, the Raisans being in that situation was Raja Mannar’s fault in the first place, but Varadha was genuinely happy to live with Deva, and his decision had nothing to do with his separate secondhand guilt for the way Deva and Atha had to live their lives as he grew up with all of his basic needs automatically taken care of. Baachi had figured out a roommate situation with his own boyfriend, Rinda, and Varadha had begrudgingly accepted, not before attempting a shovel talk (successful, Rinda looked terrified) and a lecture on using protection (unsuccessful, Baachi had all but shoved him out the door after that).

Fuck. Now they’re both upset, and there’s a storm raging outside. Varadha can hear faint thunder in the distance, and he knows with their luck the storm will pass right over them. 

He tries to think of something that’ll lighten the mood, something to do to pass the time. Varadha nudges Deva’s foot with his own, to get Deva’s attention. He had been staring morosely at the ground, but he looks up to meet Varadha’s eyes. 

“Truth or dare?” Varadha asks. 

Deva just raises an eyebrow, and Varadha flushes. 

“I don’t see you coming up with something. Either figure something out or answer the question,” Varadha demands. 

Deva sighs. “Sare [Ok], raa. Dare.”

Varadha looks around the hut. What the fuck could he even dare Deva to do here? 

Deva seems to also realize this, and snickers. Oh, it’s on, Varadha thinks. Both of them had competitive streaks, and the best way to provoke was to act like the other was powerless. 

“I dare you to spend thirty seconds outside.” 

Deva’s jaw drops. “It’s raining!” 

“Exactly. Get out.”

Deva rolls his eyes, but dutifully crawls outside to lie in the grass for thirty seconds. Varadha definitely doesn’t admire the way the water droplets run across his skin.

When he comes back inside, he’s fully soaked, and Varadha realizes he’s made a mistake. The space is so small the puddles that Deva makes flow over to where Varadha is. 

Deva suddenly leans over Varadha, and before he can react, roughly shakes his head so the droplets in his hair land onto Varadha’s face. Varadha sputters, jumping away, and Deva laughs back to his spot on the floor. 

“Kukka [dog],” Varadha mutters, as Deva’s laughter slowly trails off. 

“Ok, my turn,” Deva says, still grinning widely. “Truth or Dare, Vara?”

Well, Varadha’s not going to pick dare. “Truth.” Deva opens his mouth, then closes it. Varadha smirks at him. “Whatever diabolical plan you had, it’s not happening.”

Deva pouts. “Damn, I gotta actually think of something to ask you now.” His brows knit together in concentration. “What don’t I know about you?”

A good question, actually. They had been inseparable ever since they had been introduced as toddlers, the sons of Raja Mannar and Dhaara Raisan. Every joy, every sorrow in their lives, they had shared with each other. 

“Do you actually approve of Rinda, or are you just ok with it for Baachi’s sake?”

That’s easy. “He’s an idiot, but not bad.” Not bad, Deva mouths at him, and Varadha flips him off, grinning. “He’s higher on my list than most other people, at least. And I trust Baachi to keep him in line.”

They smile at each other for a few more seconds. 

“My turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Varadha flicks an eyebrow, and Deva rolls his eyes once more. “You could barely come up with a dare last time. There’s nothing to do in here. Might as well make it a truth game.” He doesn’t like it, but Varadha can see the logic in that. 

“Alright.” He racks his brain for what he can ask Deva that he doesn’t already know. “Have you ever had a crush on anyone? Obviously, someone you didn’t tell me about.” 

Nice going Varadha , he thinks. Totally subtle. 

But Deva just contemplates it. Like there actually was an answer to that that wasn’t, Are you out of your mind? If there was someone I would’ve told you.  

“Promise me.” Varadha says, suddenly. “Promise me that everything you say for the rest of the game is true.” He hopes that if there really were secrets between them, this night would change that. 

Deva stares, mouth set in a hard line, for long enough that Varadha starts to sweat. Does.. does Deva want to keep secrets from him? Eventually he does lift up his pinky. “I swear.”

Varadha gives him a Look, now trusting him even less. Deva sighs. “I pinky swear, on our friendship, that I’ll tell the truth.” He then quickly links the pinky with Varadha’s. “And Varadharaja Mannar will also tell the truth.” Varadha opens his mouth, and then closes it. Well, he’d be a hypocrite if he didn’t agree to the deal as well. Complete honestly from both, then. 

“Sare, sare [Ok, ok]. Now answer the question.” 

Deva looks at the ground for the first time, not being able to meet Varadha’s eyes. “Yes,” he mumbles, and Varadha’s heart sinks. 

“My turn,” Deva says, quickly. “Have you..” He hesitates, but forges on. “Have you ever went all the way with anyone?”

“Have I had sex, you mean?”

“I’m just curious,” he defends himself. “Isn’t that the kind of question you would ask in a Truth or Dare game?”

“Yes,” Varadha answers honestly, to his first question. Deva takes in that information, eyes unreadable. “Now you. Do you still feel that way for that person?”

Deva closes his eyes, as if expecting a reaction from Varadha. “...Yes.”

Oh. Varadha forces a laugh. “Rasikudive, raa nuvvu [you’re really a player],” he jokes. “Pakkane mogudni pettukoni vere valla gurinchi matladthunnavu [you’re talking about other people with your husband right next to you].” The flirtatious banter was an inside joke between them, sometimes referring to each other as their husband or wife in private. It doesn’t seem to land in this moment, where Deva just looks pained. 

“Rey..” he starts, and Varadha interrupts. 

“It’s your turn to ask me something.”

Deva just looks at him. “Does it bother you? That I said yes to the past two questions?”

Fuck. Varadha hates his past self for suggesting this game. But he had promised. And it’s not like Varadha wasn’t a jealous person in general, even towards people Deva knows he has only platonic feelings for. 

“Yes,” he answers. Deva’s eyes widen. Moving on. 

“Does the person know you have feelings for them?” They’re getting dangerously close to what Varadha really wants to know, the identity of this mysterious crush of Deva’s. 

“No.” Deva says, quickly, but surely. Like that was unquestionable, like he had resigned himself to unrequited feelings a long time ago. “Do you? Have someone you like, I mean.”

Varadha keeps his eyes on Deva, thinking again about how if Deva had suspected anything he probably would’ve done so a long time ago. “Yes.” Deva’s eyes widen once again, and Varadha can see genuine surprise and hurt. 

Well, if they were talking about secrets. “Were you the one who beat up Ranga?”

Deva flinches. 

Varadha had always felt estranged from his family, but a few years ago, the catalyst for his leaving was Ranga. His brother’s boytoy? Boyfriend? Pet? Varadha still doesn’t know what he is to Rudra, but one day Ranga apparently thought it would be funny to call and withdraw Varadha’s application to his dream university. Varadha had been devastated, but knew better than to start something when Rudra could just as easily do the same to the other colleges he had applied to in retaliation. Let them pay for his college, graduate and then cut them off - this was Varadha’s mantra for higher education. 

He had, of course, raged about it in private with Deva. Had broken down, barely eaten dinner that night, slept with his head in Deva’s lap on the couch with Atha glancing worriedly at him. Varadha hadn’t told another soul about it. 

The day after, he went home to get a suitcase of his clothes and other belongings thrown at him the second he walked through the door. From the doorway, he could see all his trophies, his certificates, smashed on the living room floor. 

Someone had beaten up Ranga that morning. They had beaten him so bad he was in the hospital in a coma. Rudra had furiously enquired as to what happened, and somehow found out about what Ranga did. He had assumed it was Varadha, taking revenge, and had told Raja Mannar. And of course he only focused on the fact that Varadha had hurt someone, not even caring about the reason why. With Radha Rama’s encouragement, he had taken the decision to legally disown Varadha. 

That was the last day Varadha stepped foot in that house. He had gone numbly over to Deva’s apartment, holding nothing but his suitcase. Atha had opened the door, taken one look at him and the suitcase, and waved him in, had told him the guest room was always his. When Deva got home, Varadha could see the shock and clear guilt across his face. 

He had never asked Deva about it, and Deva didn’t talk about it. Varadha didn’t even blame him. He only felt mildly upset that if Ranga’s face did get smashed in, it wasn’t Varadha that had done it. 

“Was it you?” Varadha repeats the question. He knows the answer, of course. He just wants Deva to say something about it, now that they had both sworn to tell the truth. 

A shadow of Deva’s guilt that day comes back now, shoulders slumping. “Yes,” Deva whispers. “But you knew that.”

“I did.”

They sit in silence for a few more seconds. Varadha can be patient when he wants to, and can outwait even Deva, a man of few words. 

Eventually the tension is too much for Deva. “I’m sorry, raa,” he says, desperate. “I wasn’t thinking, at all. I didn’t expect them to take it out on you. That morning, I woke up still dreaming of your tears, and I couldn’t do anything, think of anything other than fucking that bastard up.” The last part is gritted out. “He’s lucky I didn’t kill him. I definitely wanted to, just for making you cry, for taking away your chances at your dream college.” 

Varadha swallows. He knows Deva cares about him more than anything, but to hear it put like that, it’s scary and reassuring at the same time. “You didn’t say anything about it afterwards, though. Even when I came to your house that day.”

Deva closes his eyes. “Does it make me a terrible person if some part of me, some small part of me was glad it happened?”

“Glad?”

“Because.. because it led to you staying with me.” He quickly clears his throat. “With us. Me and Amma.”

Varadha stares. Deva opens his eyes, and winces at whatever he finds on Varadha’s face. “I’m sorry. But it’s the truth. I felt awful for you getting kicked out, I felt awful that I ruined your life. I genuinely wanted to end it all, for a few days.” Varadha remembers the quiet, devastated glances Deva kept sending him all week, when he thought Varadha couldn’t see him. “But then I would see you, eating with us, laughing along with us into the late hours of the night, sleeping in the room that was now yours…” He swallows. Deva doesn’t finish the sentence, but Varadha, so closely attuned with his best friend, could easily tell what he wanted to convey. 

They sit in silence as Varadha digests this information, both looking anywhere other than each other. Eventually, Deva leans his head out of the hut, and comes back in, only slightly wet. 

He hesitantly tries to tell Varadha, “The storm seems to have broken-”

“Your turn.” Varadha interrupts. 

“My what?”

“Your turn.” Varadha nudges him with his foot. “Truth or.. truth I guess.”

“Are you angry at me?” He whispers, looking genuinely scared. Like what Varadha says now would screw with him for the rest of his life. “For what I did?” 

Varadha just stares at him, letting Deva squirm. 

Finally, he responds, mouth slowly curving into a smile. “Yedava [idiot]. If I actually was mad at you I’d have let you know the day it happened. I’m just mad you didn’t call me when you were beating him up because I had shit to say as well.”

Deva’s jaw drops. “You- you- dongasachinoda [fucking asshole]. You had me thinking you hated me!” 

Varadha can’t hold it back anymore, starts laughing uncontrollably. “Your-your face!” He wheezes. “You were so scared!”

Deva attempts to pout but fails to hold back a relieved grin. “Dick.”

“Well, if that’s what you want-,” Varadha winks, then laughs again as Deva attempts to hit him for that. He overshoots, and ends up falling on his face, onto Varadha’s thighs. Deva shifts into a more comfortable position, looking up at Varadha now. 

Varadha looks at Deva’s affectionate smile, and thinks back to the admission that Deva had loved having Varadha living with him. Suddenly, Varadha’s a lot less scared about who Deva’s been talking about. He thinks, he hopes, that he’s guessing it correctly. “What’s his name?”

Deva’s smile dims a bit. “Who?”

“It’s my turn, raa. What’s his name, the one you’ve been pining over?”

“How’d you know it was a guy?”

“You can’t ask questions, you only can answer mine. That’s how the game works.”

Deva looks deep into Varadha’s eyes, searching. Finally, he answers. “You seem so confident. Why don’t you answer, and I’ll tell you if it’s right?”

In response, desperately praying to every god he can think of that he’s not fucking this up, not ruining their friendship irrevocably, Varadha leans down and kisses Deva. 

There’s a brief moment of shock, a moment where Deva freezes, that Varadha starts panicking. 

Oh fuck shit fuck shit shit shit fuck fuck fuuuuuuuck-

Deva pulls back. 

I’ve gotta move out I can’t show my face anymore-

He sits up fully, so he’s facing Varadha. 

I’ve got to change my name, move to a different country, fuck fuck fuck fuck-

“What was that?” Deva’s face is carefully blank, but Varadha knows his own must be giving all of his feelings away. 

“I… thought it was me?” Varadha tries, feeling like a lump of embarrassment. He clears his throat, averting his eyes. “Or not. That’s fine. I’ll just-” He attempts to stand up, trying to push Deva off his lap. Fuck the rain, he’ll walk to Deva's house if that’s what he has to do to get out of here. And immediately start packing his shit once he gets there. 

He hears the unmistakable sound of a giggle from Deva, and Varadha snaps his head back around to see Deva with his hands clapped over his mouth. They can’t hide the wide grin he’s struggling to hold back well enough, though.

“What the fuck?”

Deva gives up and tugs Varadha back down, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Oh so only you’re allowed to pretend you’re mad at me?” 

“Ohh, you fucker!” Varadha pinches Deva in the side, hard, and Deva yelps, but it doesn’t stop either of their laughter. 

Deva pulls Varadha into a kiss, and this time it’s heavenly with both of them reciprocating. Both of their lips are chapped and dry from the lack of food or water, but Varadha doesn’t care. Deva, his Deva, is kissing him. 

They pull back, only far enough so Deva can rest his forehead on Varadha’s. 

He laughs incredulously. “Let me guess, you’ve also been secretly pining for your best friend all your life.”

“Fucking hell,” is all Varadha says in response, grinning. 

“We’re idiots.”

“Yep.”

Deva groans. “Even your brother saw it before we did, he kept teasing us at the party that we showed up together like a couple.”

“I think the whole world saw it before we did,” Varadha sighs. “I don’t know about your mom, though.” Deva winces, and Varadha pulls back, frowning. “What?”

“I might’ve…. told my mom at age six if I was going to marry anyone it was going to be you? And then repeated it when I was twenty-one and she started talking about people I might be interested in?” He grins, embarrassed. 

Varadha’s eyes widen as something occurs to him, and Deva immediately starts protesting. 

“No, no, it’s not like that-”

“Damn, you really were down bad for me, huh,” Varadha smirks, and Deva groans, hiding his face in Varadha’s chest. “What else, were you doodling our names together in your notebooks with hearts? Were you the one that put that sappy ass love letter in my locker in the ninth grade?” Deva doesn’t say anything, and Varadha bursts out laughing. “Wait, seriously?” 

Deva immediately pushes himself out of the light embrace Varadha’s been holding him in, and looks outside. “Well would you look at that, the sun is shining and it’s not pouring anymore.”

Varadha gets to his feet as well, grinning. He’s absolutely delighted at this turn of events, and won’t ever let Deva live this down. 

Deva’s about to go outside to the car, cheeks red, when he stops. He hesitantly takes Varadha’s hand in his own, looks at him like Is this okay? Is this too fast?

Varadha just brings the hand up to his lips, presses a kiss to the knuckles. An unspoken It’s very okay. 

Deva smiles shyly, and they head out to their car, hand in hand. The combination of the light rain and the bright sun makes a very visible half rainbow at the end of the field across from them, and Varadha smiles. 

"Let's go to our home, raa," he says. 

-

tags: @deadloverscity @ghostdriftexistence @zici @sambaridli @sometimesbrave @just-a-lazy-person @vijayasena @sinistergooseberries all the other server lovelies as well

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

My memory is terrible so I wanted to do a breakdown of my stuff every once in a while. Might be monthly, might be whenever I feel like it.

BL - Currently Watching

7 Days Before Valentine [11/12] - Unlike some other shows, this one is actually getting better towards the end. I appreciate that Sunshine did some self reflection and became a better human being and I really enjoy the visuals here. Also, 7 days before valentine we will watch the finale, so that's neat.

Cherry Magic Th [7/12]– I like what the thai version is doing with the source material, I think they are being really smart and I'm so happy I got to watch the shopping date and the helicopter ride that were missing from the japanese live action.

Cherry Magic Anime [4/12]– I'm enjoying all the parallels way too much. Part of me wishes that it had stayed closer to the manga but since I get that also from Thailand, I can't complain.

Cooking Crush [9/12]– My expectations weren’t as low as maybe other people because I'm a OffGun fan but I am enjoying this show way more than I thought. It’s so refreshing to see good communication and well rounded characters that are given the space to work stuff out and be honest with each other. I feel for Samsee, cause, been there.

Dead Friend Forever [6/12]– this show continues to surprise me every week. I’m a big horror and slasher fan so for the premise alone I was gonna watch it. But I’m liking the way they chose to structure this story, moving from the slasher bit to the past at that moment was really smart. The visuals are so strong in this and I’m enjoying the communal murdering impulses towards the original friend group.

Ossan's Love Returns [3/12] - It’s chaos but the kind that only Japan can get away with for me. That season opener alone would’ve made me stop watching if it wasn’t for that. But the thing about these characters for me is that they get to be this ridiculous because it’s all grounded in such heart and kindness towards each other. It's a balancing act that only Japan can deliver at this level.

Playboyy [10/14] – I applaud the effort to make something new and out of the bl box, I think the show is trying to talk about interesting things and there are moments where the visuals are very strong. However, the acting is the weakest part of the whole thing and so I cannot connect to the characters, which leaves the whole experience kinda empty for me.

Although I Love You, and You? [3/10]- Japan my beloved. What’s there to say? Sakae is my new favourite boy and I’m really enjoying these two bridging the gap in their personalities.

The Sign [10/12]– Phaya and Tharn are delightful. Yai is the bestest boy ever. But there’s too many loose threads considering we only have 2 episodes left. There’s still to much going on and the investigation part of it just seems too disconnected for me to care. I really hope they're not counting on a special or a second season to wrap this up.

BL - Finished

Last Twilight – No need to repeat myself. here and here

Love for Love's Sake - What a wonderful surprise this was. Yeo Woon is one of the most adorable characters of all time and I seriously cannot handle it. From the beginning there was always a cloud over the whole story and I think in the end it all came together really well, to give us a happy ending that feels earned. Also really appreciated the way the story dealt with the triangle. Most of the time I hate them with a passion so I was really happy that Sang Won didn't just disappear and stayed in the group and kept teasing Yeo Woon. And now I'm just suppose to move on?

Night Dream – I liked the beginning a lot, but, as it’s becoming increasingly frequent, it dipped as it approached the end and although I liked how it finished I wasn’t a fan of the path to get there. Time skip once again not used well.

Sahara Sensei to Toki-kun - I have not seen the finale yet but I didn't want to wait so I might update this post when I watch it. However, Toki is my favourite boy, and I just want him to be happy.

VIP Only – Cute but ultimately forgettable.

Rose Watches OJBL

So this month I started my journey into older jbl stuff in order to have a bigger understanding of the landscape and what came before. With the help of the amazing @twig-tea I've started this journey with 2 films: Ai no Kotodama (2008) - Such a wonderful way to start this adventure. Really enjoyed this film. Without spoiling it, I understand that the beginning of the film might turn some people off of it but I think it's actually really smart and purposeful. I would definitely recommend it.

No Touching At All (2014) - Also really enjoyed this one. The direction is really interesting I thought. I feel it's all very intentional and it reflects very well the characters state of mind.

And because Cherry Magic opened the anime gates I also watched:

Given (2019) - This is SO GOOD. This show rewired my brain. Just now I was listening to THE SONG and I got emotional again. Every once in a while I enter this mindset where I feel like nothing that I watch can surprise me anymore. Then I watched this show. My thoughts after watching can be found here.

Not BL - Watched this month

The Killing Vote Taxi Driver 2 Vigilante Fermat no Ryori

Well, that's it I guess. Now I have to go and make some Love for Love's Sake gifs because I just can't move on and need to live there a little longer. Speaking of gifs, I'm always happy to take gif requests so let me know.

💜💜💜

[raparopa]

Helllllooo ☺️

I'm so glad I somehow got you to watch TLK and more you love it! I hope to read TLK from you and i have so many ideas but I don't want to annoy you, so just one request: maybe more if you allow. I Love your writing💓

Sihtric x F!Reader

Both still live with Kjartan, Reader is the healer or something and is almost always treated well. However, Sven has his eye 👁️ on her. (She don't like him) Sihtric is mean to her because he doesn't want to tell his feelings about her. He protects her, but even with small things. With a good end? Oh wait No ... A Bad end? Aaaah i leave it to you 😫

a/n: I tried to put all my work into it, but I didn't really like it. I hope you will have a different opinion and you will like it, because I rarely write such great works BUT feel free to ask more

@popcorn1989

warnings: Sihtric acting like a little shit, understatement, Sven

pairing: Sihtric x fem!reader (interactions)

fool and coward

Life has taught Y/N to be attentive. The way and where she lived made her grow eyes on the back of her head, as every step of the people around her could become fatal for her. Even though she was worth her weight in gold here, it would be foolish not to be afraid.

Y/N did not know how to handle a sword, fought absolutely terribly and generally preferred quiet walks to noisy feasts. But on the other hand, it was she who pulled out arrows and fragments of swords from the warriors of Kjarton, healed deep wounds and cuts, set dislocated limbs and prepared drugs for the wild hangover that ale brought on the warriors.

It was difficult to find a good healer, but Kjarton succeeded, and he was ready to take care of this girl like hundreds of chests of silver. Like the apple of an eye.

And the healer Y/N enjoyed respect and even some reverence, which seemed to be shared by everyone except Sven.

x x x

Y/N sat at a table in the darkest corner, while the hall and people were drowning in a feast. With her head propped on her hand, she examined the shiny apple, thinking about whether to bite into it or throw it at someone's head.

- Such a holiday, and the little healer is sitting alone, - someone plopped down next to her on the bench, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. -Instead of having a good time.

-Sven,- Y/N turned, clenching her teeth and clenching an apple in her hands. - Fuck off, okay? I'm not in the mood to have fun.

-What about entertaining? For example, me? - Sven grinned nastily, moving closer so that his blond beard tickled her cheek. Y/N twitched, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but it didn't work. But this action made Sven laugh a lot.

-Come on, Y/N, - Sven whispered. - You're so beautiful, so cold... I just want to warm you up a little.

From this phrase Y/N wanted to die on the spot from horror and disgust.

-Go, take a dip in a barrel of water, you drunken pig.- A metallic voice came from opposite.

Opposite, resting his hands on the table, and hanging like a kite over his prey, stood Sihtric. From his look and tone, he clearly wasn't saying this in a friendly manner, rather he was waiting for an excuse from Sven to use his knife.

-Find yourself another girl, you bastard,- Sven waved him off. Y/N twitched even harder, feeling anger rising in her throat.

- You, piece of shit, told you to get lost. Otherwise, the feast in honor of the holiday will turn into a feast in honor of the funeral. Sihtric jerked sharply towards Sven, causing him to cowardly recoil from the girl.

- That's it, I understand. - He raised his hands, got up from the table, looking at Y/N for the last time and silently left.

Y/N also jumped up from the bench, dropping an apple on the table.

-Thank you, Sihtric.- She thanked.

He didn't answer, only nodding his head, still glaring at the healer with hostility.

- Will you walk me to my room? If it's not difficult for you?

He immediately nodded without thinking for a second, and Y/N and Sihtric strode down the empty corridors to the healer's room. Sitric was silent.

- Sven is an idiot. - said Y/ N, quietly. Sihtric made a strange sound.

-He wouldn’t have climbed to you if you had made more efforts not to see him next to you.- The warrior replied low.

Hearing these words, Y/N stopped.

-What are you talking about? -She was indignant. -Do you want to say that it's my fault?

-I said something else, you just...

-I'll go by myself. And I will think about how to make more efforts in order to save my life from drunken freaks. - Y/ N twitched away from Sihtric, feeling like she wants to cry at his unfair words.

-Y/N, wait.- Sihtric breathed heavily, remaining standing in the corridor, realizing how big he screwed up.

x x x

-Hurry up, Y/N! - the maid was dragging her along the corridor by the sleeve.

-Yes, what is it, Oda, what's the hurry?

- Sven sent me for you. He received some serious injury, a healer is indispensable.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but tightened her grip on her supply bundle.

They went downstairs to the main hall, where several of Kjarton's men were sitting.

-What happened? -Y/N frowned, going up to Sven, putting his things next to him.

- Call to Eir, healer, - Sven's voice was so feigned that I wanted to cry. - It seems... It seems that my arm was broken, and the pain pierces my body. Save me, beautiful maiden!-He grabbed Y/N by the waist.

-Don't talk nonsense,- Sihtric approached them, slapping Sven on the shoulder, which supposedly hurt. - You just tripped over a root and fell into the hole like a bag of shit. Go, Y/n, you are not needed here.

Y/N's eyebrows twitched. She turned slowly to Sihtric, burning him with her eyes. He looked anywhere but at her.

- No, Y/N, don't go. I didn't let you go.- Sven grumbled.

- I have patients with more serious problems than lying in a hole, Sven. I'm really leaving, thanks for the tip, Sihtric. -Y/N gathered her things and hid in the doorway.

The first snow fell from the sky, it was cool. Y/N twitched her nose at the smell of frost.

-Wait,- Sihtric caught up with her.

-Wait.-Y/N stopped abruptly, turning to face him. -What to expect? So that you say something nice again, how can you?

Sihtric rolled his eyes.

-I just want to say that you see how Sven behaves. Can you just...just not give in to his provocations? You're a smart girl, but you're acting like a little fool who doesn't understand what's going on.

-Since when do you worry so much about this?- Y/N chuckled.

Sihtric rolled his eyes.

-Apparently, you really are a fool, Y/N. - He spat sharply, turning around and leaving.

The blood boiled in the veins of Y/N. Why has he been acting like this lately? What's going on with Sihtric?

- Sihtric!

x x x

Y/N hasn't seen Sihtric for several days. But she saw Sven perfectly every time she left her room. And every time the Gods sent Y/N more and more fears, the soul told her that something was brewing.

Y/N looked out the window. The snow was falling even harder, turning into a snowfall. The trembling made its way to the very bones, the frost pinched the skin, I wanted to sleep.

-You will freeze and die.- Sihtric said as he approached her.

- Yes ... it’s sad to die a complete fool. - Y/N answered.

Sihtric exhaled noisily.

-Come on, tell me that everywhere and everywhere I am to blame, Sihtric. And tell Sven the only time he can hit on me is when I learn how to kick him in the balls.

-I was rude to you...

-That's putting it mildly! -Y/N turned to face him. -All you've been telling me for the last month is that I'm a fool who is to blame for the fact that my master's son, a one-eyed bastard, wants to turn me into a comfort rag doll. Thank you Sihtric, I've heard that from you before.

-I got excited.

-Thanks for acknowledging. I will comfort myself with this.

Sihtric opened his mouth as if about to say something. He tightly gripped his ax in his hands, looking at Y/N's face.

- We'll talk later, Y/N. I still have things to do.” He lowered his head as he said it low.

-But…-Y/N's shoulders slumped, and her eyes widened in disappointment, as if expecting what Sihtric hadn't told her. -But I…

But Sihtric had already left, burning with the desire to open his chest from his own stupidity, tear out the heart and present it to her. Instead of a thousand words.