#the only person i know who played it is my brother and he is not as interested in the aspects driving me insane as i am

[acid-ixx]

ch.2: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two

read until the end for an author's note.

*"XX/XX/XXXX, entry no. 13.

i hate everything. i hate my family. i hate my father, i hate my brothers, i hate my classmates, i hate alfred, i hate this place, i hate my mom, i hate everyone.

why can't i ever get what i wanted? what do i have to do? i tried so hard to be everything for them, but why do i only amount to nothing? it's been a year, or two, i don't know. it hurts trying to remember when was the last time i saw him. saw, not talk, because he never talks to me, bruce never even looks at me. and i hate myself for trying to get him to look at me.

is he disgusted at me? does he see my mother in me? does he hate me that much? i don't know, i don't want to know, it hurts to know. i don't know why i'm trying anymore, i don't know how longer i can last in this hell. i can feel it, the longer i stay here, the more i lose a part of myself. i don't want to be here.

i don't want to pray anymore.

so if there's any god out there watching over me, then i wish for you to burn, to suffer, to go through the same thing i have been experiencing for years— all for putting me in this place. i would've been fine living in the streets with my mother. i would've been alright providing for our small family, i would've known to never get my hopes high, but you took her away from me!—

i hate you."

"master (name), are you awake? dinner is ready."

you had to shut your diary at the sound of the knock and alfred's voice.

"alfr-"

a cough, hoarse and croaky, cuts you out from calling his name. it was accompanied by uncontrollable sniffles, mucus blocking your nose from breathing properly. your room was dark, save for the lamp that lights up your bedside, where you currently were seated on your bed to write another entry, grip on your pen unknowingly harsh. you didn't even have to look at your reflection from your phone laying beside the diary to know that hiding your tears were fruitless.

salty were the crystalline droplets that streaks your face, but bitter were the emotions that had your heart ache.

you hear a sigh from the other room. before he could muster a reply, you beat him to it.

"i'm not eating dinner, alfred," you hate hearing your voice, sounding so obviously scrathy from the hours of wailing. "at least not with them. i don't want to get out at all."

"then may i at least bring them over to you, master (name)?"

his answer was final, you have no choice on retaliating and starving yourself like you did for the past few days. but it wasn't your fault that you had forgotten your body's needs. it wasn't your fault that your mind blanks itself out on the dinner table. it wasn't your fault that bile quickly crawls up your throat at hearing their voices.

you simply lost your appetite seeing them happy without you.

alfred pennyworth would never play favorite.

it was drilled into his head ever since he had sworn to serve the wayne family and its extended members— he is to serve anyone and everyone, regardless if they respect him or they do not; as long as they do not pose any danger within the manor, then he is to attend to them.

you'd think that in his decades of service for the wayne's - with all the contrasting personalities he had to deal with - he would maintain professional standards and tell everybody in the world, "i, of course, do not favor anyone within the family, i live to serve and that is truth." when in fact, he wouldn't hesistate to admit that he does, in actuality, have a favorite.

and no, it wouldn't be the eldest child, dick grayson, as much as he is alfred's pride and joy, nor would it be the youngest, damian wayne, who had been slowly correcting his mistakes. it wouldn't even be the head of the house, master bruce.

it would be you, (name) wayne, the infamous, yet forgetten child of the wayne family.

it wouldn't be a far fetch for alfred to admit that you weren't like the others. in all of the years that he served the wayne's, you were a contrast of the family.

the first few hours that he had picked you up from the police department upon the news of bruce's secret child, he knew you were more than just a child raised by the brutal streets of gotham.

you pose secrets that speak of the underground.

he remembers your seated form on the stiff chair of the interrogation room, pose unnervingly straight, as if you had solidified yourself against the metal seat. your fingers were the only signs that showed life, twiddling with each other as if it's some form of distraction.

you stared at nothing.

not even at the police as your name was called for pick up.

it took merely a signature of confirmation to dictate the future years of your life.

what's left of your belongings were given to alfred. the police officer, a woman with a kind smile then had to walk across the interrogation table to pat your back, gesturing for you to stand up and follow her and alfred on the way outside of the station, where the car was parked.

you hadn't uttered a word nor snapped out of your dreamlike gaze. not even when you were greeted with a thousand clicks of the cameras, the buzzing crowd that drowns the police station, or the hundreds of voices that yell at you to look at them.

(name) (last name), now formally adopted by bruce wayne, would be (name) wayne. it wouldn't be a shock that your sudden appearance as the child of a scandalous relationship between a prostitute and a billionaire would cause immense reactions. news would be spreading left and right, most of which were negative on your side.

he had to shield you from the crowd of photographers and journalists itching their way to the crowd to get a glance on you.

yet you didn't display any discomfort. you had only sat on the car obediently, fastening your seatbelts robotically and ignoring the lenses that unsettlingly tried to poke through the car windows to take pictures of you.

you were more like batman than you were bruce.

alfred had tried to get you communicate with questions like, "how are you over there, master (name)?" yet you would only mumble unintelligible responses to his questions without any ounce of emotion. he had to look at the rear view mirror to take in your stiff form. again, your eyes were set on nothing, even if they were casted down on the carpeted floorboards of the car.

when he had first met bruce, that child was overflowing with anger and vengeance for his parent's killer, yet you, who refused to explain your mother's disappearance, are devoid of anything.

the silence was defeaning throughout the ride. the only comfort that was provided was the rain that began to patter against the glass windows.

alfred throught you would retain the same behavior the entire day.

yet it was only when you first walked up the steps of the manor did your demeanor change, fingers immediately reaching up to hold the cuffs of his sleeves, pulling it as if you were hesitant to step in.

the first emotion you had shown him was concern, like a switch had flickered you out of your trance. it was the first time in a while that alfred had to do a double take to check if what was happening was real.

"can you... hold my hand?" and it was the first time he had heard you speak, voice unnaturally scratchy from the lack of water. you stared at him with wide, doe eyes that refused to blink, waiting for answers. alfred had to gaze at your entire body to finally notice that you were covered head to toe in sloppy bandages with blood seeping through the grime-filled gauze. your shoes were worn, your clothes were ripped, and other uncovered scars littered your body.

the most conspicuous color on your shirt was crimson red.

yet you do not display pain.

a child, five years of age, had been through more than enough anguish to know how to block their pain out.

you were unlike the rest, truly, you were unwavering of the world's cruelty.

the world does not deserve someone like you.

alfred takes it in himself to always hold your hand after that.

through the mansion doors, inside the kitchen, on your way to school; whenever and wherever, as long as he had time.

even if it were filled with scars and bruises, dirt and grime, he will always hold your hand if it meant guiding you through the darkness of the manor.

you may not consider yourself bruce's child, but you will always be alfred's.

another knock on your door had you snapping out of your trance. time passed by so quickly in the manor. well, it does when you have nothing to do but stare at your diary, draw on your sketchbook or scroll through your phone. yet time would always be the quickest whenever you drown in your own misery.

"come in," you croak out, aware that it would only be alfred who would come by your room. it was long ago since you had given up on awaiting for dick's visits.

a turn of the knob, then the door swings quietly; the hinges creak, you need them oiled sooner. alfred walks in, you notice he holds a tray that contains two cupcakes and a plate of your favorite dish, but you don't notice the small box with a bow hidden skillfully from the back of the tray. from over your seat, you could already smell the aromatic herbs that flutter in the room and see the colorful frosting from both cupcakes; an already lit candle sticking in from one.

the candle at least provides just a split second of light inside your dim room; the moonlight just like your family, absent.

alfred graciously places the tray on your nightstand, on the left of your diary. your room was still too silent.

you could only hear yourself.

"master (name), are you simply going to sit there and stare? or would you rather i spoonfeed you like i had when you had broken your wrist?"

you blink it out again, oblivious to your very own hyperawareness. alfred's still here. you hope that, in the presence of darkness, he wouldn't see just how much of a mess you are. how your hands could barely grip onto anything, hair unwashed, face stained with tears, difficulty breathing through the buildup of mucus, foot tapping up and down erratically— you wished he would pretend to be blind about your suffering for just this once.

"no—" came your sudden reply, "i can- yeah, i can eat by myself."

it's harder to lie to yourself than it is to others.

he looks at you with doubt, it makes you shiver.

despite you wishing for company inside the manor, you could never be used to attention. it would never be normal for someone like you. though, you wish it was. you wish you never hesitated when someone gives you attention.

you hear your mattress creak, there's a dip on your bed. alfred sits beside you, only then did you realize just how quickly you lean into his side, craving for warmth in the solace of your empty room.

everything hurts, it truly does.

you wish you were strong enough to cease the sudden burst of tears when his one hand circles your shoulder and the other holds the cupcake with a candle near your face. and you wish that you weren't so weak in the presence of another, trying to find a semblance of your worth in their attention.

you at least try to stifle your sobs—

"happy birthday, master (name)."

— but you were always weak, yet alfred never seems to mind, patting your back to console you from your wailing.

you blow the fire out with a single promise to yourself, crying a bit more when alfred had given you a gift box, laced with a ribbon of your favorite color.

it was one of the few gifts you would cherish, fondness seeping into the cracks of your heart.

though it wouldn't erase the bitterness that fills your being either way, knowing your family is still downstairs, unaware of the anguish the torment that they have put you through— it's still enough to let you hate alfred a little less.

"alfred?"

it was your meek voice, one that was always drowned out by the sound of the dishes clanking.

"yes, master (name)?" yet alfred could always strain out the sound of anything just to hear your talk. after all, you were a silent kid throughout your childhood.

"—if i move out of this place; would promise you wouldn't forget about me?"

... (name) wayne was full of surpises.

even at the ripe age of seventeen, and in the fifteen years of raising you, alfred could never predict your words nor your actions.

you had always said things spontaneously, carrying an aura of awkwardness in your tone, reminiscent of someone who had their personal growth (moreover their social life) stunted.

but now, with the way you had said your resolve so confidently, it felt like he was looking at a different version of you; all the more confident and resilient.

except... you were behind him when you had said that - so he wasn't really looking at you - eating the first batch of his cookies whilst he was polishing the dishes with a cloth.

when he had turned around to look at you, though, you were still the socially inept child he knows and love, sitting on the breakfast bar and twirling around the stool as you attempt to not get crumbs everywhere. you were still so young in his eyes.

it's just, the way you had looked at him expectedly like you needed his approval that shocked him. it was always your eyes that had expressed the most emotions, glazing with anticipation for his response.

he knows it when you lie, and right now, you were dead serious in your resolve.

alfred had to relax the crease on his brows before he ages faster than he already is.

"well, master (name)," he continues, turning back to wiping the dishes clean before he could fully face you. "i would fully support you in your... journey, but what warranted you to be suddenly motivated on moving out?"

alfred had finished setting aside the dishes, but he still doesn't look back.

"i mean, i thought i already told you? i have a scholarship for college but it's on the other side of gotham and...

— i kind of don't want to be chauffeured by a limo around the campus everyday, you know? so the next best thing is to get a dorm."

alfred knows it when you lie. and right now, your hesitance tells him everything he needs to know.

you may have proved a point, but that point was an entire lie. with a person name wayne flaunting across a city whilst riding a limousine, you might find yourself into more trouble than anything else.

but he had always been the one to pick you up and drop you off from elementary and halfway through your highschool life— and you never seemed to mind until now.

it doesn't take a genius to know that you had already deviced a full plan of moving out and taken it into action; all you had to do was confront the only man in the manor who had cared about you enough to raise you about your worries.

it wasn't enough to convince him to let you go, though, especially not right after an incident that had occured prior to you highschool life. if he allows you to gain independence in gotham, he wouldn't know how long you would last.

but when he looks back at you again, he couldn't bring it in himself to oppose to your whims. you need a new environment; one that provides you a way to gain independence and, most preferably, social skills. staying cooped up in a manor with barely anybody talking to you does more harm than good.

and being ignored by your own family for almost fifteen years wouldn't be a great way to celebrate your already nearing eighteenth birthday.

alfred doesn't want to admit it, but if he keeps you here any longer, you would never grow up. one person could only do so much.

he whips out a sigh, looking at you with resignation in his eyes. but you know it in yourself that he swears his life on the promise.

"master (name)," he walks over to you, eyes darting at the cookie crumbs that litter around your mouth making a note to scold you on your manner later. he sits directly in front of you, hand patting your head as you merely stare at him expectedly.

"i have raised you for almost fifteen years, it's like you are my very own child. i would never forget you." he takes your hands in his. "but you have to also promise me to stay safe out there, master (name). call me once you're there."

alfred would find a way to get you to come back eventually, even if it meant utilizing your family's neglect, which was primarily the reason why you had moved out on the first place.

he just hopes you wouldn't connect the dots and pin the blame on him once you're back and safe in the manor.

and now, it had only been months since you had gotten away from the manor. he was proud of your development, of your choice and overall, you, but he wouldn't lie and say he doesn't miss you.

he misses hearing your voice directly, the line on the phone being too blotchy to properly hear you. he misses it when he would sit on your bed as your only audience whilst he watches you paint on your canvases, drawling on and on about highschool's latest drama. he misses it when you would always be the first to taste his dishes, face lighting up whenever the food was seasoned up; now he has to constantly remind you to eat a nutritious diet, even offering to send you money whenever you mention you were short on it.

in the good of your heart, you would always decline, even going as far to deny him of any liberty to track you down and bring you a meal himself.

alfred misses you.

does he regret allowing you your freedom? not really, no. but he knows it in himself that a greedy part of him prefers it if you were would visit the manor occasionally during your vacations, at least to bond with him. but you simply chose not to, even going as far to legally change your name once you had become eighteen so you wouldn't be associated with your father's last name.

but that wouldn't erase the past you had tried to meticulously cover.

(name) wayne may have been a name forcefully deleted off of the face of the internet, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its conspiracies of its own. nobody knows who you are beyond the blurry, unsolicited pictures of you. it may have been a photograph of your back, or articles published in unknown websites and buried at the far end about a kid leaving a police station and entering through the fancy gates of the wayne manor.

and most importantly, you are a product of a one-night-stand.

but they don't know who the mother is, don't know your age, or where you come from, and what business bruce has with the woman to guarantee your adoption at the instance she had disappeared without warning.

your existence was a mystery most would like to solve. after all, it was your picture that was plastered all over the newspapers and articles, it was your name that journalists whisper and it was a silhouette of your face that the underground knows by heart. every known information about you was shared discretely yet efficiently like some sort of virus.

you were a target for interest, a large sum of money if they will. and alfred had taken it in his hands to make sure there would never be a repeat of what had happened before.

it was a clumsy mistake, one that cost you your memories, and one he swears on his life he'll never make again.

the first course of action he needs to arrange, which may seem difficult for most; he needs to confront bruce.

after all, your freedom is your doom.

the wayne manor, in all its glory, could only be described as this palace overflowing his its abundant history and fame.

it was a castle that houses a boy who had lost his parents and became gotham's very own vigilante who stalks through the night to lessen the very evil that devours its citizens. it was the training grounds where the robins, sidekicks dressed in colorful attire, opposite to batman, were raised to be worthy enough to stand by the dark knight's side. but most importantly, it was a home for troubled children who were in their journey of their very own personal struggles.

yet even in its exterior splendour, it would always be innately overcome with loneliness.

for someone like bruce wayne, he embraces this desolation just as he embraces his alter-ego, batman, who wears a suit of black and dons an aura that demanded fear.

even if he carries the persona of 'brucie wayne' a ditsy, playboy who enjoys galas and sleeping with women every other night, he prefers solitude over the sea of interviewers who throng around him like he was a piece of meat.

it would be the only time he could focus on his countless of stacked paperworks to sign and his plans to ransack another criminal's master plan.

before winter could cover gotham in its sheet of pure, white coldness, rain would always terrorize the skies. he finds this the perfect atmosphere; dark grey clouds prevent the sun from peaking through, droplets of rain would pelt against the vast windows that surrounds his study, and there was enough background noise to block out any sounds that would pass through the door.

bruce wayne was focused on his work, and that meant disturbance wasn't allowed inside the manor. thankfully, it was a quiet, uneventful afternoon today.

in fact, it was all too abnormally quiet.

his scarred hands work through signing papers effiently and effortlessly, practiced fingers signing papers after he would meticulously scan over the paragraphs of texts that scale from business deals to partnerships to buying a piece of land. then later, once the moon rises, he would have to patrol with damian and disrupt another drug trade that had been recently dealing with children on the alleys of gotham.

that means he has to sign or reject at least half of the papers before evening falls through, so he could have alfred send them over through the post office tomorrow morning.

he was at least a quarter way through his work, though, when his flow was disrupted by a courteous knock by the mahogany doors.

he didn't have to look up or ask who it was, knowing it was alfred, his butler.

"master bruce, i have your tea ready, along with news to bare," bruce could hear the tone of urgency and a tinge of sullenness in alfred's voice. it was rare for alfred to be emotionally distressed, as he was typically the most composed out of everyone in the family.

"come on in, alfred," bruce's vocal chords were gruff, raspy whenever he's too engrossed in whatever he was doing.

but he was piqued at the news alfred was eager to share, the butler expertly turning the knob and entering with a tray that holds a hot serving of tea.

bruce stopped signing the papers, putting down his pen as he watches alfred, composed as always, place the tray down on his desk, not a single clank that was produced from the metal sheets. he watches as alfred reflexively pours him a cup of tea.

it was only after that action that the two share eye contact, alfred stationing himself to the right of bruce's desk.

if he wasn't a detective, he wouldn't have noticed the furrow of alfred's brows, which was uncharacteristic of the composed butler.

he reckons he should address the elephant in the room.

"what is it that you want to tell me, alfred?" bruce swivels his chair to face alfred, fingers tapping the mahogany desk rhythmically.

"master bruce, i figured you should have known this for quite a long time ago, but your third child had moved out on their own and now lives at the opposite side of gotham. right now, they may have been struggling to make ends meet."

huh?

"what do you mean, alfred? you're aware that tim is currently living in the manor—"

"no, master, i am talking about your third, not fourth child; master (name)."

... (name)?

ah, his... other child.

alfred looks at his seated form, expecting the befuddled reaction from bruce.

it doesn't take long for bruce to recover from his thoughts, eyebrows furrowed the same way as alfred as he leans against his chair.

"and what of (name)? why was i not updated about them?"

alfred had to stifle a groan as he then glares at bruce with what he could suppose was exasperation.

"i had already told you about their leave months ago, master bruce. you had simply waved me off whenever the topic is of master (name)." the butler's glare hardened, reminiscent of the times where bruce was scolded as a child. and like a child, he doesn't know what he had done wrong.

"i feel it is time for you to take it into your hands to deal with master (name)'s situation right now. i do not have access to their location and just like you, they are stubborn and refuse to accept any financial aid that comes to them in any form—"

to make matters worse, alfred had the gall to stop midway into his explanation, sighing and blinking unnervingly which catches more than bruce's attention.

"they would rather not admit it, but if they were to fail to pay for this month's rent of their apartment, they would get evicted from their very own living space."

at pretty much the last sentence, bruce's gaze hardened. not at alfred, no, but at the thought of you; his... forgotten child. if it was money that you need, why had you not ask for any allowance in the first place? bruce would admit that, well, it had been too long since he had last seen your face, nor even... remember it—

but you were still a child of his and he wouldn't deny you of an allowance if it meant persuing your... highschool or college dreams...?

shit, what grade are you in?

why didn't he know you moved out in the first place? wait—

"alfred, how long has it been since they had last moved out?"

"roughly six or seven months ago, master."

"ah, but having a place of your own as a minor would be prohibited by law."

"master bruce, they're eighteen. they're old enough to live in their own apartment."

eighteen years old...? how long had it been since he had last seen or heard of you? if what alfred had said was true, that the butler had attempted to reach out to him about you, then why had he not remember in the first place? you were a quiet kid, sure, but for someone like bruce, people would always not be overlooked.

it wasn't in him to easily forget, but he hates how he couldn't muster up a single memory of your face— not even your hair color nor your eyes. did you even... exist in his eyes? there was not a single memory of you that he could come up in his head.

his child was eighteen now, how could he not have known in the first place? how could he not recollect a single birthday of yours? or any celebration or gala that had you in it?

alfred's sigh snapped him out of his trance once more.

bruce looked up, seeing resignation upon alfred's face. he simply stood there, posture straight as always, but bruce couldn't wash away the shame that cages his heart when there was not a single image of you that pops up in his mind— alfred's disappointment merely worsened

the tea in his desk had long since gone untouched, but bruce couldn't bring it in himself to drink a single drop of it, even if his lips were dried and his throat was begging for even a single droplet of water.

he denies himself of any relief.

"i figure i should leave you in your own, master bruce, to at least compose yourself before nightfall. please do take your child into consideration, though, enough time has passed since you have last seen them." alfred states, as if it was a matter of fact. and it was, bruce should've known about your leave, as your father and as the man who took you in, he should've.

so before the butler could even take a step, bruce hastily stands up from his seat, pen long since discarded on his desk and a quarter of the papers are now messily stacked upon each other, but bruce pays them no mind.

"take me to (name)'s room right now, i need to see things for myself."

if bruce couldn't even remember a single instance of you, then maybe a trip to your room would be enough for him to remember.

but if that doesn't work then... bruce would a find a way, he always would.

and as your father, he needs to at least support you, even financial no matter your stubbornness? even if the shame he feels right now is so immensely disturbing, and the migraine is quickly finding its way into his head— he needs to know more about you, his actual third child.

bruce wayne needs to see your face just once.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: 5k+ words. no beta, we die like jason todd with a crowbar. my least favorite part of writing the chapter is literally starting it. i had at least 5 drafts all lined up and it took me an hour in the bed to think about how should i start it. i literally hope you guys enjoy the chapter hehe, and start to yk, notice the patterns and the parallels between your perspective and bruce's perspective bec ur literally his child, u guys share some habits even if u never once talked to him lmao. the most emotionally draining scene was writing the birthday scene, i had to take breaks from typing it out hehe. bruce's descent to yandere-ism isn't as quick as dick's but it would be worst in the next chapter.

also, i hope you guys are able to notice the bad habits that the reader eventually collects because it's important for the next chapters. it would be better if anyone of u could... point them out in my asks or comments, i love rambling about it yk, and a lot of you are absolutely brilliant in making theories that are absolutely right. anyways, i hope u enjoy this chapter because this was one hell of a ride for me and i appreciate all the reblogs and comments despite me not replying to a lot of yall but u guys truly are my motivation so thank u lots :(((<33!

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku, @okaybutfullhomo, @trasshy-artist, @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa, @maicenitas, @ilovvmyhusband, @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony, @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts, @darling006, @starringyau, @rosecentury, @jaythes1mp, @pi1nkl0ver, @i-thirsty-boi, @sharks-r-cool-l, @silverklaus, @samanthathanes, @traumaramacenter, @maddimoon, @anxrq, @thedarknesslord, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @lazy-idate, @googeecat44, @simpingfor-wakasa, @zvghfgn, @0patito0 (if i had forgotten to put any of u in a taglist please forgive me, it's hard to keep track !!)

[seeingivy]

water lillies

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's older brother fic

previous part linked here

an: two chapters back to back. also the last one :'(

--

sukuna realizes that repetitive phrases help him in the year that follows. that no matter how dangerous it feels, the feeling of hope is one that he has to keep in his chest, regardless of his track record of horrendously horrible bad luck. 

he’s not going to die tomorrow. yuuji’s perfectly healthy. he’s going to replace the plastic finger on your ring with a real one someday. you’re all going to live very long lives. 

there’s a nervous anticipation, an excited one simmering in his chest, as picks up the little tray of drinks – two strawberry matchas, an iced coffee, and a scone – as he takes it back to the table, where the group of them are waiting. 

“what took you so long?” sammy asks. 

“you’re so impatient.” sukuna responds, handing the drinks over to the moms and sammy, before splitting his scone in half and handing it over to yuuji. 

“i’m working on that.” sammy grates, giving him an irritated look. 

sukuna smiles. 

sammy was working on that, after he had very graciously given her the number to his therapist after she called him crying asking for it. 

it seemed that sammy had one too many fights with you, hurt mai one too many times, and realized that she was finally ready to let go of lifetime of hurt that she had accrued. anger issues, impatience, and the insurmountable amount of aching that always seemed to take residence in her chest was on its way out. 

with his help. and with yours, even if you didn’t know about it entirely. 

“wait, where’s y/n?” yuuji asks. 

sukuna smiles. 

“she has class.” 

“oh.” yuuji responds. 

sukuna watches as the confusion contorts in his face, albeit, the strange nature of the gathering catching him off guard. both of the moms, sammy, and yuuji were called here for an early morning rendezvous at what might be the only good cafe in their town – play coffee. 

and sukuna would have waited to schedule this for when you were free, if he didn't have something important to ask all of them. a question that you couldn’t necessarily be present for. 

“okay. i’m not treating you all to coffee for no reason.” sukuna states. 

“i fucking told you. he would never be this nice.” sammy whispers over to yuuji, the two of them nodding at one another. 

“you’re so kind, sammy. you have such a way with words.” sukuna deadpans. 

“i live to please.” she resopnds. 

“is everything okay?” mrs. itadori asks. 

sukuna smiles, before reaching over to squeeze her open hand. 

three months prior, his mom was the last person on the very long list of people that he deserved an explanation too. even more than deserved an explanation – but another person who just deserved to know why he left, what he had been through. 

satoru and suguru had taken it really well, satoru offering him one second of seriousness to very earnestly tell him that he was very happy that sukuna had stayed long enough for the two of them to become friends. nanami had shared his own experiences – the two of them being intrinsically closer than before from their shared past – and shoko responded by giving him gummy bears and a hug, which meant more to him than she could really understand. 

it shattered lots of things for yuuji, something that he felt insanely guilty about – for not catching on to all of it sooner. but sukuna could also tell that it had done something for the two of them, to talk about something, whatever it was that they went through together as they were kids, and it only made him love him more. 

and his mom. for the first time, after a very earnest scolding about parenting and responsibility from your mom, was worried about him. he found it a little bit overbearing at times, the way she would call and remind him at night that she loved him very much and that he was her entire world – but the thought was there. and on the days that he found it hard to quiet the voices in his head, it really did make all the difference. 

to hear you remind him. and his mom and yuuji, sammy and everyone else in between. 

“it’s great. i just have to ask for your permission for something, that’s all.” sukuna murmurs.��

sukuna watches their faces drop. he realizes after the fact that it was a bad choice of words – especially for his mom – when they were the exact ones that he used before he left for europe. 

“i’m not moving.” sukuna clarifies. 

“oh thank god.” his mom responds, dramatically pressing her hand to her chest as he rolls her eyes. 

he looks over at the four of them, a simmering warmth in his eyes, as he takes in the looks on their faces. and it seems that in his delay, the most perceptive of the group, has figured out what’s happening all too fast. 

“oh my god. you’re going to do it, aren’t you?” your mom murmurs. 

“what?” sammy asks. 

“you…you’re going to propose?” she asks. 

“what? you’re going to propose? to y/n?” yuuji asks, his voice almost frantic. 

“YOU GUYS ARE GETTING MARRIED?”  his mom squeals, so loud that it earns her a wary look from everyone else in the store. 

sukuna winces as he lifts his hands, beckoning for the group of them to lower their voices, as he reaches into his pocket and places the little green box at the center of the table. sammy’s the first to snatch it, eyes wide and filled with tears as she opens it up, to the little circular cut diamond, set into the golden band that he had picked out almost a year prior – the second you got home from the trip he went on for his birthday.  

he had been holding on to it for a better part of the year. and it was finally time to use it. he was paranoid that he would never get to replace the plastic ring that he gave you, so he figured that he’d buy the real one as soon as he could – just as another solace to himself that he would actually get to do it. 

“wait. you’re really going to propose to her?” sammy whispers. 

“i am. with all of your permission, of course.” sukuna states.  

he watches as they all give him bright smiles, before reaching forward and placing their hands on his. 

“oh, sukuna. of course, you can marry my daughter.” your mom responds, giving him a bright smile 

“holy shit. you’re actually going to be my brother.” sammy states. 

“that’s if y/n says yes.” mrs. itadori states. 

sukuna gives her a glare. 

“what a vote of confidence, mom.” sukuna deadpans. 

“they already wear those plastic rings all the time. they literally think they’re already married in their heads. don’t be annoying, mom.” yuuji responds, huffing an irritated sigh at her as she rolls her eyes back. 

sukuna takes that as a vote for yes. 

“i’m obviously joking. the two of you have no sense of humor.” mrs. itadori responds. 

sukuna turns his head to the side, eyes expectant as he waits for his mom to give a proper response, noting that phenomenon – of getting so emotional that the feelings get crumpled up in your throat is one that he gets from his mom – as she reaches forward, a warm hand on his shoulder as she squeezes. 

“this is all i’ve ever wanted for you. not only because she’s my best friends daughter, but because…well, it’s all you deserve, my sweet boy.” she murmurs. 

he watches as him mom turns her head to the side, shooting an excited smile to your mom, as he notes that the wedding gears are probably turning in both of their heads just from that shared glance. 

“i’ll need a favor from all of you. two from yuuji and sammy.” sukuna states. 

sukuna smiles, before pulling out the little envelope in his pocket, the four of them giving him weary eyes as he opens it up. 

“whatever you need, son.” your mom responds. 

sukuna memorizes that line – the way that she said it – and commits it to memory. 

“you’ll all have to meet us in france first.” 

--

you and yuuji accompany megumi to the tattoo parlor as he gets his first set of ink. it’s a special design that yuuji drew out for him, a set of constellations that the two of them had charted together on one of their first dates together. 

the tattoo parlor still smells the same as you remember it, bright designs printed on the wall and neon lights, as you take in the little room – the magnets on the fridge and the little frames on toji’s desk. you note that there’s a picture that you took a few months prior, of tsumiki and megumi standing next to him. 

“hi toji.” 

you watch as he looks up from his little work station, his tools and guns meticulously organized, as he taps the seat in the middle, giving megumi a bright smile. 

“right here, kid.” 

after the funeral, you had finally found the time to reconcile with megumi about what happened on your birthday. the two of you got dangerously drunk, talking about deadbeat dads and everything in between, before yuuji and sukuna had to drag you out of there on your ass. 

about how your dad forgot you. about how megumi had never talked to his own. about how when they both left, how your moms spoke so little of them that you almost felt like they were ghosts of nothing. and that on most nights, you were filled with such a deep curiosity – of who they were, of what could have been. 

when yuuji dragged the two of you out of there, he had realized how much he had probably annoyed sukuna on the nights that he asked him to do that. 

but it seems that in the horror stories that you had shared with megumi, he realized that he was left with an agonizing amount of questions about his own father that he couldn't ignore. and one day on a whim – he had marched to the tattoo parlor all on his own and asked all of them, basically till toji was free of every answer that he could possibly give. 

and megumi realizded that there was more to the entire situation that met the eye. that there were things his mom had purposely omitted, for reasons he could understand but not get behind. and weirdly enough, by some twist of fate, was now going to reconcile with his own father. 

you were more than supportive. only because whatever strange fatherly advice of figure toji was trying to be for megumi, he was also trying to do for yuuji as well. it filled you with an almost insane amount of joy, that toji was so approving of yuuji, that he thought the two of them were meant to be together. 

and yuuji deserved that – someone who wanted to be his father. that was proud and happy for him for who he chose to love. that liked him just as he was. 

“you ready, megs?” toji asks. 

“yeah. this is the design.” meugmi responds, handing him over the little half sheet that yuuji had drawn out, as toji nods. 

you take toji’s side as he starts to stencil in the little design at his little workstation, yuuji leaning on the side of the little chair as him and megumi talk in hushed tones. 

“hi toji.” 

he glares at you. 

“do i know you?” he asks. 

you roll your eyes, slightly shoving him in the side, as you lean forward, watching him stencil the little design with his purple marker. 

“you’re hilarious, toji.” 

“i’m a part time comedian. i take tips.” 

you fish into your purse, reaching for one of the coins in there, and throw it onto the little tin working space. 

“you’re so generous!” he deadpans. 

“I live to please.” you joke. 

toji smiles, averting his eyes as you follow his gaze. he’s staring at megumi and yuuji, the two of them with their hands locked into together and laughing under their breaths. and you smile, only for toji to glare at the sweet look you’re giving him. 

while he’s just as much of a sap as sukuna, he hates to be up front about it. especially when it comes o you, because you always feel the need to make a comment about it to him. half because you want him to know that you appreciate what he’s doing for both of them. and because it’s really fun to irritate him. 

you imagine this is how satoru feels when he annoys sukuna. 

“shut up.” 

“i didn’t say anything.” you respond. 

“you were saying it with your face.” 

“you’re projecting!” 

toji glares, sketching the shading on the little constellation, as he heaves a sigh. 

“never did thank you, you know.” 

“for?” 

“dunno. telling him about your shit dad. he never would have come here if he didn’t.” 

“well, i for one, love to tell people about my shit dad. it makes for a funny story.” 

toji smiles. 

“he really didn’t recognize ya?” 

you shake your head. 

“he thought i was sukuna’s girlfriend from europe.” you state. 

“do you want me to kill him?” toji asks. 

you laugh. 

“that’s okay. yuuji punched him for me.” 

“eh? cupcake over there? there’s no way” 

you grin. toji very lovingly calls yuuji cupcake – only because the first time yuuji met him, he decided to bring a box of cupcakes that he consequently dropped on the sidewalk before he could even make it to toji’s apartment. 

“that’s right.” 

“no shit. he doesn’t have it in him. he’s so….sunshine and rainbows. like you.” 

“had a full bruised hand and everything! you’re forgetting that he’s sukuna’s brother.” 

“that’s fair.” toji states. 

there’s a pause. 

“speaking of, how is he?” 

“sukuna?” 

toji nods. 

“he’s okay. doing good, i think. i mean, he definitely has days where he’s…where it’s harder than others. but i’m glad that he trying to work on it now, at least try to be a little bit more open about it.” you state. 

“you know, he came into my shop, a shitty little angry sixteen year old begging me to give him a tattoo.” 

“and you broke the law and gave one to him.” you state. 

“yes. but only because at the time, i could…i could tell that he needed that. and i talked to him about stuff here and there, and i sat there and thought about how if my kid was feeling like this, i’d give them that so they wouldn’t do something more drastic. hurt themselves or something, ya know?” 

you frown. 

“yeah.” 

“and well, it’s fucking great. the fucking idiot walks in here smiling all the time. tells you all his weird shit even though he fucking hates doing it, or at least at the time, he did. he even seems more lively or younger or some shit compared to then. whatever it was that was wearing him down back then has long left him. so don’t worry about him too much? that one’s a fighter.” toji states. 

you smile, your heart thumping in your chest. 

“yeah. yeah, he is.” you respond. 

toji gives you a smile, tilting his head to the side as he beckons for you to join him at his megumi’s side. 

--

sukuna’s voice is muffled against your neck, lips warm on your skin, as he whispers. you’re eying the dresses that you have left – a flowery pink pattern and the white silk dress that sammy had picked out with you weeks prior. 

“wear that one.” 

“what?” 

“the white one. the one with the lace shit, that’s long. i want you to wear that one.” sukuna states. 

you frown. 

“i was saving that one.” 

“for?” sukuna grins. 

when sukuna brings you to france, you know that he’s going to propose to you. because on one of the last days of your trip, he’s taking you to the musée de l’orangerie, where monet’s water lilies are. and you know that true to his word, he’s going to propose there, just like he promised you almost a year ago in that dirty tattoo parlor. 

but you can’t say it forthright. that you’re saving the pretty white dress you have for the day that he’s going to propose. because it’s presumptuous to say he's going to propose, and knowing him, the element of surprise is something that he would have wanted maintained. 

but that doesn’t mean that sukuna doesn’t try to goad it out of you. he hints at it all the time – asking you why you save the dress for the end of the trip, why you’re saving some of your better jewelry for the last days, asking why you wanted to get your nails touched up towards the middle of the trip. 

it’s thin ice that the two of you walk on, that neither of you acknowledge. it’s what makes it exciting. 

“wear this one today, okay?” 

you frown, before scaling away to your suitcases, eyeing the dresses that are left in the bag

“wait but…” 

“you’re wearing the white.” sukuna demands. 

“i want to…” 

“wear the white. trust me, you’ll want to wear it today.” sukuna whispers, leaning over the little distance between the two of you, as he offers you a wink. 

you pause, testing the waters. 

“but…we’re going to giverny today.” 

“that’s right.” 

the water lilies are in paris. he can’t be proposing today. 

“you want me to wear this dress…this white dress…to giverny.” 

sukuna grins. 

“yes. the pink one is better for paris. you know i love pink.” 

you sigh, looking down at the fabric. he did have a thing for you in pink. you give in, putting together the outfit – the white dress, the mary jane shoes that sukuna had picked out for you, and a little pearl clip to secure your hair back. 

sukuna’s taking some extreme lengths – pressing his head in between your legs to buckle your shoes, attentively putting the clip in your hair, and pressing soft featherlike kisses to basically any patch of skin that you can find. 

“you’re in a mood today.” 

“i’m just really excited for giverny.” 

you understand the excitement once you get there. giverny’s the smallest little village in the north of france, a little bit of an hour away from where the two of you were staying, and is filled with the brightest, most beautiful flowers that you’ve ever seen in your life. 

you get into town in the early hours of the morning, the two of you giving each other excited smiles as you set out to the little town. the two of you eat breakfast together in the smallest bed and breakfast, sukuna takes an obscene amount of pictures, and you buy a little charm for your bracelet. 

sukuna gets uncharacteristically quiet, a light pink tinge on his cheeks, as he leads you down a winding road, unti you end up at a little house at the end of the way. it’s magnificent – a few people teetering in and out of the doors – as you eye the brick walls and the green window panes. there’s bright pink flowers at the front, muted purples and greens all around, as you look over at him, taken aback by the fact that he’s already looking at you. 

“sukuna?” 

“this is why we’re in giverny.” he murmurs, lightly pulling at your wrist as he takes you in through the middle of the house, offering a spare glance to the people milling around, and taking you through the back. 

his hand is warm in yours as you walk out to the little backyard, a green bridge across the little pools of water, with willowing trees dousing the entire area in the shade of the calm sun. he leads you right to the center of the bridge, the two of you leaning your chins on the tops of your hands as you look down at the water, your little reflections staring back at you. 

“did you notice what’s in the water?” 

you look around, feeling your heart drop in your chest, at the water lilies almost decorating the entire pond – pink flowers with lily pads of green – as you widen your eyes, the wetness glassing over your eyes as you look over at sukuna, who has the softest smile on his face. 

“i know that i’d lost the element of surprise when i told you that i wanted to propose to you at the water lilies in the musée de l’orangerie. i figured the next best thing was taking you to the real water lilies that the painting was based off of.”  

“wait. wait, this is…” 

“claude monet’s house. his garden, more specifically, and the real water lilies from the painting.” 

you pause.

“you’re going to propose.” you state. 

sukuna shakes his head. 

“not exactly.”

you feel your heart drop.

“what?” 

“i’m going to marry you.” 

you feel your throat dry. and your head spin. and your heart pounding in your chest – because surely, he can’t be serious. 

“sukuna?” you whisper. 

he laughs. 

“don’t freak out. but i’m going to marry you.” he repeats, the tenor in his voice so calm that it nearly freaks you out. 

you reach forward, hands on his shoulders as you squeeze hard, the wetness pouring onto your cheeks as you lean forward, smiling. 

“i would love to marry you. i’d do it right now but..but we can’t just..our moms, your outfit and i…” 

sukuna stops you mid sentence. 

“your sister and my brother are here with our moms. they’re actually watching from that bush if you look back.” 

you turn around, following the direction of sukuna’s finger, as he leans forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and his voice like honey in your ear as he continues. you see four sets of eyes – and yuuji giving you an embarrassingly wild wave – as sammy yanks him back down. 

“sammy has a veil. she said it’ll hook into the pearl clip that she gifted you. my mom picked wedding rings for us. your mom got ordained. and yuuji decided that he’s going to be the best man and the man of honor for both of us. your mom also has that weird flower shit for me that’s supposed to go on my jacket.” 

“wait…wait you really…” 

“speaking of, as much as i like this plastic ring…” 

sukuna uses his hands to spin you around, until you’re facing him this time, hands pressed against his chest as you look up at him. 

“i told you that i was going to give you a real one.” 

you watch as he reaches into his pocket, plucking the perfect little ring out of the box, as he reaches forward, slipping the plastic green one off of your hand and replacing it with the sparking diamond. the former goes into the depths of his pocket, but you’re too preoccupied with the one he’s just given you. 

you look down at it, at the way it glints in the sun, before looking back up at him, at the smile on his face as he expectantly waits for a response – to everything he’s just laid out in front of you. 

“you’re really doing this? you’re really going to marry me right here?” 

“if you let me.” sukuna responds. 

he pauses, before taking his hands in yours, eyeing and fiddling with the newly replaced ring on your finger before looking back up at you, and smiling. 

“i can’t wait any longer. i did all of this, flew our parents out and our siblings, and made sammy buy you this perfect, beautiful dress because i have to marry you right now. and it’s not because i’m paranoid or because i’m scared you’re going to die on me, but because you’re the love of my life. i want our love to be forever. i know you’re going to live to tomorrow and i am too – but it’s still not good enough for me that we’re not tied together in all the ways people can be tied together.” 

you smile. 

“i just want you to be my wife. you’ve been my everything since forever and i need everyone to know that. my tax forms, the government – i need it written in paper, i need there to be real living proof.” 

you laugh. 

“me too.” you murmur. 

“yeah?” 

“yeah. yeah, i need someone to shout it from the rooftops. i want to send it to the fucking newspaper back home just so everyone knows that you married me and i married you. and i really do want to do it right now.” 

and you watch as he grins – at what may be his first confirmation that everything he planned out is going to come to fruition right now, because you’re going to marry him. and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your cheeks, hands frantic around your neck and pulling you closer as you lean back, glaring at him. 

“save that for the wedding.” 

“i needed one last kiss from you as my girlfriend.” 

“well, i think that was technically my first kiss as your fiancee? your last kiss with me as your girlfriend was the one this morning. it tasted like french toast.” you state.

he shakes his head. 

“okay, go away now. let sammy put your veil on. and walk back down with her and yuuji, okay?” 

you give him a nod, quickly shuffling to the little bush where all four of them are crouched, nervous eyes as you bend down, giving all of them a smile. 

“are we getting married?” your mom asks. 

“we’re getting married.” you confirm. 

the all cheer, yuuji leaning forward to press a kiss to your head, as you feel the warmth bloom under your cheeks, and they all start nervously panting. your mom starts rehearsing the little lines that she has to say, cards pressed in her hands, as sukuna’s mom pulls out the little box that the rings are in. the two of them nurse sukuna’s boutonniere in their hands, messing with the pin at the back and making sure it’s in place. 

“okay, turn around, i’m putting the veil on. mom, go stand out there with sukuna he looks like a fucking idiot standing there alone. yuuji and i will walk her down.” sammy mutters. 

the two of them nod, quickly running out – but not before giving you a warm kiss on the cheek – as you watch both of them give sukuna a long hug, biting so hard on your cheek that you draw blood when sukuna leans forward, wiping a tear away from your mom’s face. 

you hear a little clicking noise, as sammy starts draping the little frilly veil over your shoulders, her eyes in a deep attentiveness as she comes around, fixing the stray hairs on your forehead and the straps of your dress with frantic hands. and you can’t help but lean forward, wet tears in your eyes, as you burrow your chin into the crook of her shoulder, and squeeze hard. 

“you’re going to walk me down the aisle?” you ask. 

you lean back, sammy giving you a sweet smile before reaching up and cupping the side of your face. 

“i helped you take your first steps. s’only fitting, right?” 

“yeah.” you whisper. 

“and we can’t do it without him either, of course. naturally, you’re going to be attached at the hip until the end.” sammy mutters. 

and you turn to your left, where yuuji’s uncharacteristically quiet at your side with wide eyes, hands nervously fidgeting in his pockets at his side as you shoot him a warning glance. 

“you okay?” 

“i was friends with you when you literally had no fucking teeth. and now you’re just getting married. to my brother.” 

you smile. 

“do you have a problem with that?” 

yuuji rolls his eyes. 

“i don’t like to share.” 

and he pauses, before leaning forward, his hands featherlike on your shoulder. 

“i know this is really weird, but i…i feel like i’m giving you away.” yuuji mumbles. 

you laugh. 

“i feel like you’re giving me away too. you…you’ve been the only person around in my life, in the same way, basically forever. you’re really the only person whose approval matters to me.” 

he smiles. 

“we’ve both spent a good amount of our lives just with each other. but i’m glad that you’ve opened up space for a few more. and i have to. and for sukuna of all people, who fucking adores you. i’m half mad i didn’t think of it myself earlier, but you’re perfect for each other.” 

“thank you, yuuji.” 

“and this is the perfect scheme. you’re going to be my sister. we can upgrade the term soulmate to soul sister now.” 

“deal.” you whisper.

you both laugh, as yuuji holds his hand out to you, which you tuck your hand into before pressing a kiss to his cheek. the two of them look to you for confirmation, before you leave your little spot behind the bush, your little heels clicking against the wood of the bridge, as sukuna stands in between your moms, a hand pressed to his chest, and he cries freely.

his mom hands you the rings, two simple golden bands. and your mom seals the words, that tie you together forever.

--

four days later, you finally do make it to musée de l’orangerie. sukuna drags you towards the back – to the painting from the blue and purple background that’s been on your computer for years – as you both tangle your arms together, fingers adored with your newly minted rings. 

it feels dangerously full circle to sukuna. 

that he had visited years prior, alone with headphones shoved into his ears, and stood there alone thinking about you. about how he wanted to live, about how he was going to move past everything that had happened to him – and at the very least, return to japan someday and see you again. 

and he stood there, wondering what you would be like. if you liked the same music, if you watched the same shows. if you still ate cinnamon raisin french toast and wore ribbons in your hair. 

and at that point, he knew he wasn’t going to return to japan for another few years, but when he did – he was at the very least, going to be determined to find the answers, in the most natural way he could. that somehow, the two of you would end up near each other, at the same restaurant or at the same bar, and he’d get to ask. 

“what are you thinking about?”  you whisper. 

sukuna looks down, at your head resting against his shoulder, and leans forward, pressing an absentminded kiss to your forehead. 

“that this time around, you’re standing here with me.” 

that he got to put a ring on your finger. that he knows you don’t listen to the same type of music as him but you do have the same taste in shows – even if you have different favorite seasons. you like french toast when he makes it and think the ribbons fall better when he places them in your hairband for you. 

you love him. and he loves you back.

--

an: a very long love letter to this beloved fic. this has been six months of one of the sweetest things i've ever written. this fic is literally so special to me for so many reasons bc it's pushed me so many ways in figuring out how I like to write and express my feelings -- and i've put so much of myself and my real struggles of good old life into it. needless to say that all of the sweet comments and love that i've received on this have every bit worth it. this goofy little one shot took a life of it's own from all the love you've all given me on it and i'm so glad we ended up here together 💌 (and I promise, i'll actually write dream girl actor sukuna now, I just had to finish this one up properly)

and a beloved kiss to my lovely @babiemay who enabled this original brain rot in the first place. you are a star.

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @ghostreadersthings @charlie-xo @whoami-72 @heijihattorisgf @megu-meow @complexivelovely @multiplefandomthings @hoebuns @lzaj19 @glossygreene @ramluvr @sureconfused @najaemism @manduse @imhorn1help @gamergirl5125 @r0ckst4rjk @invisible-mori @isaacdaknight @wishmemel @gyros-cum-sock @suftsunshine @i0099 @cowgirlikets @haitanibros0007 @stuffeddeer @yoontaedotin @ec3lipsy @armani78 @awkwardaardvarkforever @kereseth @leave-rae-alone @ruruvia @princess-ackerman @jjkwritingss @lilkiwikiara @opchara @telepathicheartss @starriesworlds @raechu11 @exprimidordefresas @nxxrxm @aalloochaat @strangehuman101 @tzutology

[imustbenuts]

theres a few ??? thing going on in trigun stampede that's explicitly japanese/sino-ish in culture but im entirely not sure what to make of it. 3 things.

Knives' birthname being settled as Kni/Nai,

JuLai's emblem symbolism,

and the Buddha Thread??? thing in ep 11

Knives' birthname is Kni and hm! ...無い?

this is specifically a stampede thing. nightow didnt give him this Kni name in his work, so i can only chalk this up to the stampede staff's deliberate decision. if you render it into japanese, it'd be Nai, and the immediate word i can think of is... 無い. meaning, Nothing, or Without.

it fits rather well considering stampede has officially placed an emphasis on his obsessive love towards his brother on his bio on their official site:

my TL:

Vash's twin brother. Possesses a cold and merciless personality. Filled with a hatred for humans, he masterminds an organization with a plan to massacre the entire human species. With abilities beyond human understanding, he has the power to destroy entire planets. He greatly loves his only younger twin brother, Vash to an obsessive degree.

interestingly, the word used for the obsessive love here specifically is 執着 shuuchaku, which has roots/association with the word Abhinivesha. from what i understand it is a mental state, a fear of death, and a desperation to cling onto life so much one becomes ignorant and causes their own suffering. and ignorance is another big core of what makes Knives' character tick.

so i feel like this has some pointers towards Knives, or even child Kni being nothing without his younger brother. (or it could just be a simpler play on the word naive lmao)

meanwhile for Vash there's not really anything japanese that jumps out at me, but some have pointed out his name sounds like the french word Vashe, used for female cattle. extremely passive and born for consumption and theres a lot to dissect in that direction but im not going there! his name is Knife and his brother is a cattle there's catholicism may your brain go brr.

theres more to the nothingness concept in buddhism that doesnt put it squarely in a negative category but lets talk about buddhism later. next:

JuLai's emblem

stared at this for a few seconds and yelled fuck me. this represents the twins, AND its the broken yin yang symbol:

:). hey look at that female thing popping up again--

Knives is evidently the light Yang, and Vash is the dark Yin. ngl this daoist thing is somewhat sexist but lets brush that over 2 thousand year old aspect aside for this post. for stampede's case we can clearly see what theming is going on especially for those in the know of the original work.

Knives is hella assertive to the point of echoing fascist eugenics nonsense, and Vash has that nurturing instinct that seems to pop in whenever there's a human child or people who needs help.

interestingly the planet No Man's Land has too much fugging sun and is too hostile for human life. to survive people have to live in the shade and turn to plants for counters to the harsh, hot celestial sun. so here if Knives is being the sun, hes also being hostile to human life, and meanwhile the feminine looking plants and Vash's personality plus actions are the only thing giving these people at chance at life. (also vash has the power of Dark Matter or something)

obviously, just like JuLai's broken symbol, the balance is completely and utterly out of whack. in daoism a broken balance is thought to cause a lot of suffering. in the finale, Vash doesnt have a single speck of white on him, and Knives doesn't have a single speck of black. this means there isn't a balance and they cant come to an agreement at all.

im gonna also point out here that vash's idea of co-existence even if accepted wouldnt be a permanent solution due to the dependents having limited lifespan. so through this lens, stampede seems to be saying that neither twin's ideas are really effective long term solution, tho Knives is completely unacceptable due to obvious genocidal reasons.

Buddha Thread

studio orange whaaat are you guys cooking over there... ok so. in ep 11, Knives drops Vash into the uhhh The Hell Pool, and Vash tries to get out of it with his wire and hangs for a bit. then we get a scene like this:

Knives proceeds to cut Vash's thread and he drops into The Hell Pool. and then the metaphorical SA scene happens.

i call it Buddha Thread but this can also be known as The Spider's Thread. there exists a story of The Spider's Thread that's very Japanese-Buddhist and well known over there.

the gist of this story is that Buddha lowers a single spider thread to a sinner in the deepest hell as a lifeline to get out, bc this heavy sinner had done a singular good deed of saving a spider he was about to crush with his foot. however, the thread is broken as a result of the sinner's selfishness yelling for the other sinners below him to let go, claiming this thread was his and his alone. the sinner having climbed halfway upwards the thread after great effort plunges back into the pits of hell. buddha having watched all of this reacts with sadness, and the days in paradise carry on as per usual.

and. digest that for a second. and then refer back to Knives and The Fall and this scene that plays later, when Vash's mind wipe begins proper:

fuck. me. knives is framed as a self proclaimed god in the loudest ways on multiple levels.

while these 3 aspect i just broke down explaining do not exist at least overtly in the original trigun, i thought it would be interesting to chew on in light of the overwhelming catholicism existing in the story.

there's some themes im also picking up from the original trigun that might be rooted in either buddhsim or japanese culture such as: the undeniable truth that yearning and hunger is part of the human living experience and to deny it is to deny living. but im not sure what to make of it bc A) not explicitly framed or explored as a buddhsim/japanese idea thing and B) catholicsm obv is the overwhelming theme of the entire work

idk what the heck studio orange is cooking exactly but. hm.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Competitiveness

Word Count - 1500 roughly

Author's Note: Originally this was suppose to be a fluff piece. But then I started typing and it turned into light smut. 😬 Let me know if you guys would want a part 2 where it would be more smut. As always thanks for reading. 💜

Possible Triggers - use of y/n, light making out, grinding, heavy flirting - VERY VERY vanilla compared to other things I have on this blog. 🤣

Summary - Quinn is surprised when he comes home with a new video game Mario Kart and he sees a whole new side of his calm girlfriend. Someone who becomes super competeive and it's very hot.

It was no secret that Quinn had a competitive personality. Most men naturally do, but for professional athletes it’s a given. Plus he had brothers who were naturally competitive in everything - whether training in the summer, wakeboarding, bored games - but especially video games.  During the season when Quinn felt more separate from his brothers not only through the distance but sometimes mentally since they lived together now since Luke started playing for the Devils. 

You were the complete opposite, sometimes you could be competitive when it came to board games during the summer. But besides that you truly didn’t have a competitive bone in your body. Except when it came to a particular video game from childhood - Mario Kart. Which you failed to mention to Quinn, even though he buys you what he calls “cozy games” for your switch randomly all the time, because he knows they’re your escape from the stress of the world around you. You also told him that you find yourself gaming more when he’s on roadies because it gets your mind off him being away. Buying you games has become one of his ways he shows his love, especially right before a long roadie. So it came to a shock to Quinn when you came home one day and saw him playing Mario Kart, and seeing your face immediately light up. “Ooooo Q when did we get Mario Kart.” As you stand next to him, and start bouncing on your toes so excited to see one of your favorite things from childhood in your new life you’ve built with Quinn. 

Quinn had just finished Rainbow Road so he paused his tourmount he was playing. “I just picked it up today, I went to pick up that new game I saw for you, “Stardew Valley” figured it was time to get you a 2 player game so we could play together. But I also saw Mario Kart and figured it would be fun for when the guys come over.” He says a full grin on his face now as he’s watching you fixated on the T.V. “Baby.. what are you thinking about?” As he gets up and slowly wraps his arms around you from the back. 

“Hmm…” you say, finally giving attention to Quinn. 

“I asked what you're thinking about?” as he kisses the side of your neck, your own little ritual for when he comes home or you come home. Even 2 years later, he loves the way your cheeks blush when he does it. 

“Oh just how I love this game and I’m gonna kick your ass” As you turn around his arms so you can see his face finally for the first time since you came home. A huge smile displayed on your face, your eyes glittering with excitement. 

“Really?” he asks in a smug voice. “Baby I have never seen you play anything that isn’t relaxing.”

“Uhh Mario Kart is relaxing sir.” You say snutching your face almost with disgust because he didn’t know this as basic face. “It was actually the only game that would get my mind off of everything growing up - I would stay up for hours with (your sibling’s name) and play until ma would catch us and force us to go to bed. In fact, ma banned the game along with “Smash Bros” because we would physically tackle each other when we didn’t win.” 

Quinn is now full blown laughing imagining you fighting them. “Okay fine you're on, but I’ll have you know I never lose.” 

“Oh baby boy, that's so sweet you think you can beat me.” As you go to grab the second controller that was charging. 

“Alright we’ll see.” He says as he starts exiting the tourmount he started so that you can switch to 2 players. 

“Alright, since you're so cocky, let's make this interesting.” You say as you get comfortable between Quinn’s legs like you always do when he’s gaming with his brothers and you're on your switch. Quinn always whines when you aren’t close to him when he plays, he says it makes him focus. In some way, bickering  at his brothers while playing “Call of Duty” brings your anxiety down too. 

“Ooo like what, the person that loses gives the other a kiss.” He says glancing down at you as you're picking your character, you know it sounds cliché but you’ve always played as Peaches as a kid and never lost when you did. Now that you're playing with Quinn, the superstitious part of you won’t risk it. 

“Aww that’s so cute you were thinking of a kiss. But I can kiss you anytime I want. I was thinking more like.. Whoever loses has to let the other person do whatever they want to them.” you say as you turn in his lap and because of how you were laying your boobs laying on his cock. As he looks down at you, your boobs falling out of your shirt giving him the perfect angle of them. 

“Fuck..” he mumbles under his breath. “Have I told you how much I love you lately?” as a smirk is plastered on his face, as his mind is wandering to all the things he wants to do with you when he wins this tournament. 

You puff off a breath of air, a mix of a chuckle and gasp. “Lately yes… today no. So does that mean we have a Hughes deal?” Sticking your hand out for him to shake to the agreements like it’s an official bet. 

“Oh baby girl I love you so much,” His hand is going to crease your cheek making your breath catch in your throat. “ And we 100 percent have a deal Y/L/N”As his hand moves your cheek casually touching the top of your boobs on display as he goes to shake your hands. Both of you have devilish smirks on your face as you turn around to have the screen as you both get ready for the tournament. 

Let’s just say 10 minutes later Quinn is shocked he didn’t win a single round. He didn’t even play during the award ceremony but you got first. You go to sit up and turn on. “Well like I said I love this game, now what do I want you to do first” As you bit your lip.

“Nope nope nope, rematch now.” He declares brows pulled down with a look mix of determination and pouting on his face. As he is already setting up for a second round, as he shifts himself on the coach so he’s sitting up and it would be physically impossible to lay back down. 

“Quinny… it won’t matter I will still win but if it will help you sleep better tonight then okay.” As you adjust yourself so your sitting criss-cross applesauce on the coach. 

“Oh baby I’m not gonna go easy on you this time” He says as you're about to start the first race.

“Easy Hughes you couldn’t even place, ONCE and I could feel you stiffen under me after the first 2 races but okay if you “going easy on me” is your excuse for losing.” you say as you take off leaving Quinn in the dust. 

You win again without a problem.But you will say Quinn was able to place this time with Bronze. You don’t have the heart to tell him you were going slowly on the last race so he would do better overall in the tournament. “Ssso.. do I get to cash in my price yet.” As you climb into his lap and lightly grind against him to feel his semi-hard cock get harder. 

“Okay.. I give up.” as his hands go down your arms finding their way to hips and squeezing. Encouraging you to continue as you start kissing him, as he quiets your moans with his tongue sliding into your mouth. His hands going to your ass, the need to feel all of you at once slowly taking over his body. He pulls his mouth away from you just far enough to ask “okay where do you want me ms. winner.” As you go to chase his lips again. “First bed.. I want you to carry me up the stairs and fuck me against the wall. But the wall furthest away from the mirror so I can see your full body and how well you fill me up as I cry in pleasure.” You say connecting your lips again this time Quinn moaning and whimpering into your mouth at the thought.

“Fuck baby. Your wish is my command.” He says as picks you up off the coach, you let out a squeal of shock and he carries you effortlessly upstairs. “Can I just say I see why your mom banned Mario Kart.” As you enter the bedroom your black slams against the wall you requested. You let out a small moan welcoming the pain your shoulders are feeling from the impact. “But I don’t think we're at the level of banning yet.” He whispers as he continues his attack down your neck. You let out a moan, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure. To say that you were happy that you got to play Mario Kart for the first time in probably 10 years would be the understatement of the year. 

[kabukiaku]

What do you think of the Ghovie? :D

holy HELL man. to give my spoiler free thoughts: it was loads of fun. the concert footage was absolutely gorgeous. the sound quality was insane, I sang along through all the songs. ending left me shook and have more questions than answers.

for my thoughts that do involve spoilers:

my only real criticism but I guess it's just a personal preference: this was me merely having my specific expectations, but I was hoping to see Copia talk to his brothers in ghost form.

I did NOT expect Sister to kick the bucket.

Damn I'm not even a huge Copia enjoyer and yet I wanted to hug this man. He fr looked so stressed and conflicted.

FRATER IMPERATOR??!?! fuck man. I'm gonna draw that outfit.

SECONDO-STAINED GLASS SHOT!!!!

the animated segment of Mary On a Cross was so so cool. i guess they finally gave in to the scooby-doo chase music allegations xD

NEW GUY? who are you. who aaaare you? I vote for resurrected terzo. hah. yeah right.

the implications of copia having a twin!!?!?

I saw terzo ONCE and I pointed at the screen. my boy....

copia getting a lil jumpscare when he inverts his cross necklace. haha.

how will this new era play out? will it be an homage to the first era?

nihil you were a delight. silly old man.

cant get the new song out of my head. good music. good message.

copia's speeches throughout the concert, ahhh really pulls at your heartstrings.

copia on the hot air balloon, fr thought something bad was gonna happen, but good chances are he was lost in his mind, and fuckin fainted. oof.

RAIN SPOKE. him saying 'so no encore?' had the same cadence as the vine 'so no head?'

ghouls were lovely. not as feral as usual? poor swiss. he didn't get much good footage.

the. GHOULETTES. PERIOD.

phantom's wacky head tilts. he's so crazy. /pos

when nihil asked him to do the 'grucification' pose during SH my ass really thought they were gonna kill him on the spot or something.

OVERALL: a damn good concert movie. so thrilling. so much fun. I am happy that I got to experience this. despite the absence of our previous papas, we cling onto so dearly, I know the spotlight isn't shining on them anymore. it makes me sad, as I would've love to see Terzo in some narrative type media. Now, I await for what this new Era will bring.

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 2

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 2564

Warnings: Angst, Past Trauma, Alcohol.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers. Not sure when this one will be up and available to read yet. Just getting the chapter list started for it.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 2

I’ll just make an appearance and sneak out the back if I have to.

A half-hour later, you’d finally convinced yourself to get out of your car and head toward the door. The parking lot was packed now that it was just after seven—most of the vehicles you recognized. Living in a small town and being a mechanic, that sort of thing tended to happen. Thanks to Bobby, you had worked on most of them, even if the owners had no clue.

The moment you opened the bar door, the sound of the jukebox and the patrons was almost deafening. The smell of alcohol was strong and inviting. The room mirrored the parking lot, full. People were playing pool, dancing to the music, leaning against the walls, and chatting while the bar and tables were full. 

It was the group near the back that caught your attention. Several tables had been pushed together so they could sit near each other. You recognized most of them from around town, the garage, and the bar. That was when Ash found you, before you’d made it halfway to the group.

“So, when do I get that date? I brought whiskey,” he asked, smirking as he held up a full bottle of your favorite whiskey.

“Ash, I don’t date, you know that. Plus, you’re like a brother to me, but thanks for the whiskey,” you chuckled, grabbing it quickly out of his hand.

“You here for that?” he asked, using his thumb, motioning to the group near the back.

“Yeah. Got invited by John and sort of felt obligated to show up at least. I figured I could sneak out the back later on,” you replied, glancing from the group back to Ash.

“None of em’ are bad people, Y/N. You need more friends,” Ash told you, giving you that sweet smile that only he could when he was worried about you.

You sighed and took a drink of whiskey, wincing a little at the burn it left behind, “They’ll find out about me, and they’ll be like everyone else. I’m not getting my hopes up again, Ash. I just… can’t.”

He gave you one of his famous hugs with his arms over your shoulders, “Just, you don’t got to be such a loner,” he told you, kissed the top of your head, and then headed to the back again.

Damnit Ash. You’ll see. They’ll hate me just like everyone else does.

The idea that believing anyone outside the small group, that was your family or extended family, could remotely even like you as a friend was foreign. It had been why you worked the shifts you had chosen to work, to avoid those people.

You put on that fake smile again as you walked over toward the group, reminding yourself you just had to make an appearance, have a couple drinks, then slip out the back when no one was looking.

“There she is,” Ellen smiled, standing to hug you, as did Bobby, Jodi, and Donna. “I said I’d show up,” you chuckled after they all hugged you.

There was a bit of shuffling of seats, but they made one for you between Ellen and Bobby, but across from Dean. You managed to keep that fake smile on, no matter how uncomfortable you felt sitting there with all those people, mostly the ones you tended to avoid, though.

“Bobby told me about your promotion. Congrats,” Ellen told you with a smile that went from ear to ear.

Of course, he told her. 

“Still not sure how I feel about it, though. I just want to work on cars more than anything,” you replied, a bit shyly, keeping your attention more on Ellen.

You set the bottle of whiskey on the table and missed Dean raising an eyebrow as you did. “You’ll do fine, Sweetie,” Ellen told you, brushing a few strands behind your ear in her mom-like way she did.

Before you could say another word, though, John stood, getting everyone’s attention. When you turned to look at him, your gaze stopped on Dean, whose green eyes were locked on you. You just blinked at him blankly, not really sure why he’d be staring at someone like you. 

John gave a speech about Sam getting a full ride and his SAT scores. Everyone cheered, then toasted. You grabbed your whiskey bottle instead of the beer that was there for you. Dean watched you, but you still couldn’t figure out why. He was handsome, sure, but he had a soulmate and would one day find her. So, you paid him no mind other than the fact that he was your boss’s son. 

There was a lot of chatter and conversation going on at the tables between the more than ten people who were there. You kept up with it, though, and even piped in when someone asked you something, even if it was rare. They were catching up on things since they’d been away. You made sure not to drink too much, only having four shots of the whiskey and staying clear of the Amber Bock that had been sitting in front of you.

Then, almost an hour later, you excused yourself to the bathroom, giving everyone that fake smile before heading in that direction. Halfway across the bar, though, you glanced over your shoulder. Seeing that no one was watching you, or so you thought, you ducked into the back, where Ash was cooking. He just looked over at you, nodded, and returned to cooking as you slipped out the back door.

You leaned against the wall for a moment, letting out a sigh of relief at the aloneness of being outside and away from it all. It was far more overwhelming than you had anticipated. There was a mild chill in the air, but it felt nice, cooling not only your lungs, but also your body.

After a few moments of calming down, you headed around to where you had parked, looking more at the ground as you fiddled with your keyring, unclipping it from your belt loop. You practically screamed, though, when you saw him leaning against your driver’s side door.

“Sneaking out?” Dean asked you with a smirk.

You frowned, then sighed through your nose, “I can only people for so long, okay? It’s just too crowded in there. I’m sorry I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving. I didn’t want to deal with it.” It almost surprised you how easy it was to be honest with him, even though you didn’t even know him. Typically, you’d have devised an excuse, like being tired and needing sleep for work the following day.

He raised an eyebrow, “Then, why’d you say you’d come?” he asked curiously.

You looked down at the ground, nudging a rock with the toe of your shoe, “I kinda felt obligated,” you mumbled, “John being my boss an all.”

When he laughed, you weren’t sure if it pissed you off or hurt you, but you didn’t look up at him, even when he did start talking. “If you really didn’t want to come, you could have just said that. My dad’s pretty understanding. He and Bobby talk a lot. Bobby was surprised you even agreed.”

At first, you weren’t quite sure what to say, but finally looked up at him, feeling guilty for not being honest with John, or Bobby. “I’m not used to people caring what I want or don’t want, and I don’t know John at all. I’ll apologize when I see him again.” 

“What do you mean, people not caring what you want or not?” Dean asked, furrowing his brow in slight annoyance or aggravation; you weren’t quite sure.

“I guess you don’t know then. I figured Benny would have said something. I never got my soulmate’s name, when I turned sixteen. I’m sort of treated like the plague around here, except for a few people who are pretty much family,” you replied, then sighed, still trying to figure out why it was so easy to be so honest with this stranger.”How come your soulmate isn’t with you?” you asked, somewhat curiously.

“Let’s just say, it’s complicated,” he answered, shifting slightly, leaning against your car. “My brother was telling me about that, your soulmate thing. He said it was fairly rare, but you aren’t the only one. The authorities don’t want the general public to know, so they keep all the information on lockdown.”

“Oh,” was all you could manage, and you looked back down at the ground, debating what you wanted to ask him for a few moments. “How come you’re talking to me, though? People will treat you badly, if you’re seen with me too much.”

That’s when the bar's door opened, causing both of you to look over at the commotion. You had to stifle your laughter, watching Benny, Ash, and Cas haul some drunk out and then toss him into the parking lot. Ellen was then standing directly in front of him.

“And if I ever catch you in my bar again, I’ll have Jodi arrest your disrespectful ass. No one talks about my niece like that and gets away with it, especially in my bar,” Ellen threatened the man.

“She’s protective of you, huh?” Dean asked from behind you.

“Yeah. She raised me since I was two. Jo and I grew up together. They’re the only blood family I have left,” you answered quietly.

Dean decided to change the topic, and attempt to answer your question from before the commotion. “Well, the reason I’m talking to you is, well, uh, kinda funny,” he began, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

You turned around, looking up at him and tilting your head a bit, curiously and confused. It didn’t seem to help his nerves, now that your attention was on him, and he averted his eyes. 

“It would seem that while we were both growing up, we didn’t ever run into each other. I worked in Bobby’s garage in the mornings with the guys and hung out here in the evenings. You were just the opposite. Then there was school. I saw you around, but you always seemed to disappear quickly,” he replied, quite nervously, which you couldn’t really understand.

That at least explains the earlier conversation in the garage. But what does he not want me to find out about? I shouldn’t ask; that would be rude.

“How come you seem so nervous around me?” you asked, then quickly apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s just, people avoid me. I just don’t understand why you aren’t avoiding me, too.”

You sighed, then went and leaned on the driver’s side door of your car since he had moved, thanks to the commotion earlier. You were trying to sift back through your childhood memories to see if you could remember meeting the Winchesters.

Dean was again silent for a moment, watching you, which you did notice this time, even if you weren’t looking directly at him. “You were like a mystery back then. And, uh, you still kinda are. That’s the answer to both your questions,” he answered, softer than you had thought he would be.

You shrugged, though, “I’m pretty normal, except for the no soulmate name thing.”

When he chuckled, you looked up at him, narrowing your eyes in a partial glare, “Sweetheart, you are far from normal. Not every day a hot chick is a badass mechanic and has a badass car to boot.”

For the first time in a long time, you blushed. He was the first guy to call you ‘hot’ and badass, ever. Ash had called you hot, but you just shrugged him off, figuring he was just being, well, Ash. Dean, though, was a complete stranger, who had a soulmate. 

You bit your bottom lip nervously, debating asking yet another personal question. “If you have a soulmate, why would you say those things about me?”

He sighed and leaned on your car next to you, but he kept some space between the two of you as he looked down at the ground. You debated retracting your question when he finally spoke up, “I’m not supposed to talk about it, since the courts got involved. If you can keep it quiet, I don’t mind telling you,” he explained quietly.

“I won’t tell anyone. No one talks to me anyway,” you answered, now looking over at him, utterly curious.

“I do have a soulmate. I’m not with her, though. A woman, she had my name on her, but I didn’t feel that connection with her, and her name wasn’t the one on me. It ended up being just a regular tattoo, but it was done professionally. It’s a legal battle now and part of what my brother and Dad have been trying to help me with. It’s also why I came back here,” he explained, and he looked sad to you.

“I promise I’ll keep it to myself. I’m sorry someone put you through something like that, and I hope you can find your true soulmate one day,” you offered softly.

Your mind was working overtime with what he’d told you. Why would anyone do something like that? To what point and purpose? What would faking a soulmate mark accomplish? Why Dean Winchester? Too many questions and no answers, none that you could seek anyway.

“Thanks, Y/N, I appreciate that. I’m sure I’ll find her, one day,” he said with that soft smile again.

There was almost a far-off, dreamy sort of look in his eyes, but you weren’t going to ask him what his thoughts were on. “So, umm… I was gonna head home for the night, but…” you trailed off, unsure how to ask him to move so you could at least get in your car without sounding rude.

“Oh, right,” he replied, pushing himself away from your car. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow at work then. Don’t be too tough on me. It’s been a little while since I’ve worked in the garage.”

“Yeah, thanks. I won’t. I’m really not like everyone says I am,” you replied, this time, giving him a friendly, soft smile before unlocking your door.

“I knew that the moment I met you, Sweetheart,” he smirked, closing your car door after you slipped inside.

All you could do was smile and shake your head slightly in amusement at his response. “See you tomorrow, Dean,” you told him before starting your car and heading home, your mind racing.

Something’s clearly going on with the Winchesters. Benny knows something. I’m gonna guess that the other three guys know it as well, since none of them seemed surprised by Benny’s statement at the garage. Plus, they didn’t push for what it was.

Then there’s whatever is going on with John and Bobby. Aunt Ellen has to be involved. Which would mean that Jodi knows, too, whatever it is. And what did Bobby even mean about Dean not trying anything with me? Dean said he had a soulmate, so why would he even bring that kind of thing up?Then there was that joking sort of undertone, like he hadn’t really meant it. John had it too, regarding Dean. What the hell is going on, and why do I feel like I’m the only one that has no clue?

----------------------------------------- Chapter 3 - Coming soon

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[marvelfanfics1]

A Little Too Rough

Request: Okay so! Get yourself ready cause i have a lot of ideas ahaha! My first one would be jj wants to have fun with his sister but the fact that he's way older and bigger than her only makes the wrestling game so unfair for his little sister then she ends up crying cause he hurts her not on purpose oblviously and he comforts her :((

Pairing: brother!jj maybank x toddler!sister!reader

Warnings: crying, hurt/comfort, fluff

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

JJ is the typical big brother, protective as hell but is the only one who's allowed to tease or annoy you, and the only person who knows how to comfort you.

He always knows how to keep you entertained and occupied, playing hide and seek, tag, tea parties (the pogues are often forced to participate because what little Maybank, little Maybank gets). Your favorite is play fighting.

Just like now, JJ notices you were a little cranky because you skipped your nap today, picking you up despite your protests. You are shoving and smacking against his chest. "Whoa, someone's a little moody, huh?"

"M'not! Let me down." You whine, squealing when he drops you onto the couch of the Chateau. You grab one of the pillows, throwing it against his head.

You scoot away when he lets himself fall against the cushions, pretending to be unconscious. "Jayj?" You poke his cheek.

Suddenly he sits up, grabbing your ankle and pulling you into a laying position, attacking you with tickles while you laugh and kick at him.

"Stop!" You giggle loudly as he wrestles with you, your hitting not even bothering him.

He relents a little, letting you stand up on the couch so you have the upper hand for a while so you won't doubt yourself later or feel weak. "Oh no, looks like the big Y/n finally wins a match!"

You shove his shoulder a little and JJ does the same. In that one second he underestimates his own strength, his eyes widening as you fall over the armrest and onto the ground with a thud.

"Shit-" he jumps up instantly, kneeling down beside you. "Hey- I'm sorry, I-"

There was a moment of silence and JJ watches your expression turning from shocked into a frown, bottom lip quivering and tears already blurring your vision. As you started sobbing he begins to panic, quickly scooping you into his arms.

"Shh, you're okay. I'm so sorry." He bounces you around, rubbing your back while you sob into his chest, staining his shirt with your tears. "I didn't mean to get so rough..." He mumbles, kissing the top of your head.

JJ keeps shushing you until your sobs turn into small sniffles. He sits back down on the couch, pulling you away from him to cup your face.

"Anything hurt?" He asks concerned, wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

"M-My bum..." You hiccup.

"I really didn't mean to hurt you. Y'know that right?" He has to make sure you understand that this wasn't on purpose, that he would never ever hurt you intentionally.

You nod meekly and he sighs in relief, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'm so damn sorry, kiddo."

You wrap your arms around his neck. "S'okay...I forgive you."

He chuckles at that. He really doesn't deserve you. His sweet baby sister.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

@chimindity

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra

[kellyvela]

I was looking at some Jonnel x Sansa posts on here , and I came across one individual (probably an anti) who posted a screenshot of a grrm interview. He was asked about possible historical parallels from fire and blood to asoiaf and whether that is intentional and he said he doesn’t consciously do it. The tags of their post was something like “grrm: Jonnel who??” While I’m a little worried that grrm said that, the interviewer was specifically asking about fire and blood, not a family tree. And no matter what, I’m still very convinced the Jonnel x sansa addition was intentional, it must have been - Jonnel having a stark mother called Lynara , known as ‘one eye,’ a half brother called Rickon, married to the only other sansa stark ever who just so happened to be the heir to Winterfell with a younger sister . Their marriage solving the northern succession crisis. Not having children from this union, meaning grrm added it in merely to convey a jon married a sansa in canon. The last minute addition; revising the draft JUST to add it in…. It can’t be a coincidence !!! I mean, there’s even a rhaegar frey with a son called jonos… that’s all intentional in my opinion - but now that I saw that anti opinion, this one interview is what they seem to cling to lol. I went on a massive blocking spree so I’m not sure if this is wholly the case but seriously, the similarities are tooooo intense it’s impossible to ignore

Oh I know that post, and I also know that GRRM interview.

That OP doesn't like jonsa, and call shippers "freaks."

That tag was: "[grrm voice] Who the fuck is jonnel stark" (🤡)

The interview in question is this one:

The GRRM answers in question are these ones:

Ashaya: So we were talking about how working on Fire and Blood is history and it’s very different to write. One thing that we like to highlight in our show is something called Parallel Lives, which is the idea that there are parallels in your histories to current characters. George: You stole that from Plutarch, didn’t you?  Ashaya: Yes. Yes, exactly.  Aziz: Absolutely. I read those all when I was a lot younger, fell in love with them, so good catch. I love to apply it to A Song of Ice and Fire.  Ashaya: So we’ve observed it in A Song of Ice and Fire. Have you found that in like writing Fire and Blood, that it allows you to maybe play with plotlines or arcs for the characters in the main series? Do you do that consciously?  George: No, I don’t.  Ashaya: You don’t!  George: It’s not consciously.

But the thing is that GRRM didn't end the matter here, he went on to say the following:

Ashaya: Interesting.  George: Certain similarities are inevitable.  Aziz: That’s for sure. George: If anything, I try to veer away from that, cuz I don’t wanna feel like I’m repeating myself.  Ashaya: But history just naturally repeats itself, so…  George: Yes, there are certain resonances in history, there are certain universals about humanity, people competing for power, people competing for love, lust. All of these things…  Aziz: Some of these things are a constant.  Ashaya: Sometimes people are like, that’s a stereotype or that’s cliche, and I’m like that’s because it’s true to the human experience, it’s just true.  Aziz: A person with a lot of power being paranoid? That happens a lot. That also applies a lot to real world history, or to homages. What about when you’re writing in an homage? For example, one of my favorites you’ve included in the Nightfort scene with Bran, there seems to be a lot of homages to Tolkien and the Mines of Moria in that scene, which I love a lot. Do you aim to do that or is that also accidental or maybe you have some thoughts on your process there?  George: I love Tolkien, and actually the Mines of Moria is one of my favorite sections of Fellowship of the Ring. And that’s my favorite of the trilogy, Fellowship. Not that I don’t love them all. I don’t think I was consciously trying to do that, but again, you don’t know. You read these things and they lodge sometimes in the front of your brain, but sometimes in weird corners of your brain where they pop up at some point. I did wanna make the Nightfort a sinister place, with its own legends. It was very old, it’s a very big castle crumbling. And I wanted to give it that sense that so many things have gone here. Now, which are true and which are not true? I always tend to look at not only other fantasy books and history, but like the real world here. Get me in trouble here for what I’m about to say, but we have these legends that some people believe are literally true in our religion. We talk about the Garden of Eden. Was there ever actually a Garden of Eden? Was there Adam and Eve or the flood? Noah and the flood. That’s a good one. That’s a great story. God was pissed off, he made it rain for 40 days and 40 nights. The entire world was flooded and everybody died, except for this guy Noah, who built a big boat and he got two of every animal on earth. I don’t know how the kangaroos got from down in Australia to the Middle East, but they did. 

See, anon? GRRM didn't say he doesn't do parallels, he said he does them unconsciously, that some things remain in his brain and some day just appear again and he unconsciously writes parallels, similarities, patterns, etc.

He also recognizes that certain similarities are inevitable.

Besides, from his answers, it is obvious that he has realized that he does parallels unconsciously, it is evident that he has reflected on it; but one thing he does consciously is to keep them 😉

~~~

All that said, I think the jonnel/sansa addition to the Stark Family Tree was consciously on purpose.

~~~

BONUS

Q: It is my impression that there are parallels between Westeros history and current events in ASOIAF. so in your opinion to what degree is George martin's history cyclical? Because we have a lot of parallels. For example with the current history and the dance of the dragons.

Elio: You know George even uses that line from talking about the the arms of house Toland, the dragon eating its tail, but it was from the Archmaester Rigney which is a reference to Robert Jordan the writer of the wheel of time, that history is a wheel or time as a circle. I think George certainly deliberately sees, creates parallels. I mean this is a very obvious example, you know if you read The World of Ice and Fire, you saw the family tree of the Targaryens, and the family tree for Jaehaerys and his offspring changes quite a lot when fire and blood comes out. Because George realized that he wanted to create a kind of parallel by introducing another Daenerys. and he said like, i like the symmetry of it, I like the the sort of the way. You could perhaps read it as reflecting on Daenerys's story, maybe. I wish it was true. I mean I think fans of Daenerys need to be really worried about what's going to happen to her. Although I guess Game of Thrones maybe has revealed kind of where things may possibly end. Again the journey is going to be very different. I think you know circumstances, things are going to be very different. So there's a journey that matters. But in any case, so yes I think George uses cycles and things a bit. He likes setting up parallels of events, he likes paralleling characters, he likes paralleling events, and he likes paralleling the past and the present as well.

Linda: I think certainly that when he fleshed out the details of Fire and Blood, even when he first did the sidebars for The World of Ice and Fire, and they just grew. We could see that, okay here he's looking at foreshadowing or commenting on current events by doing a similar scenario in the past and he definitely likes to play around with those aspects.

[Source]

Read more about it here:

~~~

Maybe it's not that unconsciously sometimes . . . .

🤭

[flusteredmoonn]

the tortured poets department tracklist

now playing; the tortured poets department tracklist... — in which flusteredmoonn details the inspiration for each of the songs within the speak now album.

"i love you..."

fortnight, r.b. "i was supposed to be sent away, but they forgot to come and get me" in which regulus falls for someone who is less than pureblooded, and his parents discover he's hiding something.

the tortured poets department, j.p. "sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me," in which after years of james pining after lily, he finally falls for someone else.

my boy only breaks his favourite toys, s.b. "but you should have seen him when he first got me," in which he goes from being a renowned player, to genuinely falling for someone, yet he isn't quite ready to leave his old ways behind.

down bad, r.l. "everything comes out, teenage petulance," in which remus doesn't realise how caught up he is in searching for a cure.

so long, london, s.b. "i left all i knew, you left me at the house by the heath" in which sirius and a girl from beauxbatons academy fall for one another in a romance with a timer on it.

but daddy i love him, j.p. "there's a lot of town that i bestow upon my fakest smile," in which people question her choice to go out with one of the most popular boys from gryffindor house, but they aren't privy to the private moments between them.

fresh out the slammer, s.b. "and i'm gonna be alright, i did my time" in which their relationship ends on a horrific note, and they are unsure whether to revisit it after they heal.

florida!!! r.l. "florida, go on, fuck me up" in which she dares him to share the things which way on him, at the promise that she wont pull away.

guilty as sin? r.b. "i dream of cracking locks, throwing my life to the wolves," in which he expresses to her his desire to be seen by his brother, whilst battling with decisions pressured by his marriage.

who's afraid of little old me? j.p. "don't you worry folks, we took out all her teeth,," in which he falls for the opposition, both intimidated and attracted to how fierce she truly is.

i can fix him (no really, i can), r.l. "and your good lord doesn't need to lift a finger, i can fix him no really i can," in which she decides that she can change the casanova of gryffinor tower from his womanizing ways, and she deos.

loml, r.b. "who's gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flame, when we know the steps anyway," in which they were once promised to one another as children, but their life leads them on different paths, until they meet again.

i can do it with a broken heart, j.p. "cause i'm miserable, and no one even knows," in which he hides how much he's truly suffering from the coninuous rejection from lily, until he drunkenly opens up one night.

the smallest man who ever lived, r.l. "and i'll forget you, but i''ll never forgive,," in which sirius receives a howler from his parents, rather embarrassingly, in front of the person he's only just gotten into a relationship with.

the alchemy, j.p. "where's the trophy, he just comes running over to me," in which he wins a game of quidditch and he celebrates by publicising their relationshio.

clara bow, r.b. "you look like taylor swift...you've got edge, she never did," in which he is continuously measured up to the impression his older brother made on his teachers, until the girl he's seeing shows him that he can be his own person.

"...it's ruining my life"

[eddiediazismyhusband]

These people will never experience the pain hearing from the causal viewers and THE SR that we who view those characters as queer, are delusional. We were told, it’s in “our heads” and what you see “is your interpretation” NOT what’s on the script. OH CANT FORGET MY FAVORITE, “go write your own SHOW”. Imagine for 6 years viewing buck as queer coded and told you were dumb and “it’s never gonna happen”. For 6 YEARS!!!! It literally took them ONE EPISODE AND MOVING TO A NEW NETWORK for bibuck to happen. And these people think this couple who ONLY HAD 3 dates (1 of them a failed one), and 2 kisses is endgame? 💀💀💀imagine your ship not having any depth to where they stopped caring about them after making buck bi💀💀💀. Where are their scenes? Oh it’s “enjoy it while it lasts”. It’s them having barely 20 minutes of screen while the “non ship” has x2 has much in 10 episodes. Did they forget their fav said this💀💀💀💀

💯no notes agree with everything you said 👏👏👏

and also even that lfj quote pissed me off when it came out bc i was like “how are you gonna stand here and tell me to be grateful for a relationship that came out of left field with no chemistry?” like even if it does lead to buddie i will still hate that whole arc because it could have been handled SO much better and without bringing back a racist character, played by a problematic person, ON TOP of causing the biggest shipping controversy to ever hit this fandom… that man has given me the ick since day one of s7 and when the cameos started and he started encouraging his fans and egging on the bullshit i was done w him.

it pisses me off bc they act like buck has to go through some sort of “queer bootcamp” before he can date eddie and im like…. no he doesn’t?? he doesn’t need some sort of “gay yoda” or whatever they called t-rex in the beginning bc there is no rulebook to being queer… so the whole notion of “working out the kinks” (which is an extra level of icky coming from someone like lfj, and looking back after the daddy joke in 7x10) never sat right with me… and the whole “what if buck got with eddie and didn’t like it?” if he meant that literally as “what if buck didn’t like it” my brother in christ theses are fictional characters, they’re not sims, the writers have full control over literally everything that happens… why would they write them if buck “wasn’t gonna like it” (which is bullshit bc we all know he 1000% fold immediately if eddie kissed him)… if he meant “what if the fandom didn’t like it” (which is an odd way to word that question if this is what he meant) WDYM IF THE FANDOM DOESNT LIKE IT EVEN HALF THE BT SHIPPERS HAVE BEEN SHIPPING BUDDIE FOR ALMOST SIX YEARS????

the whole situation drives me up s wall bc not only have we simultaneously gotten so close yet so far to getting buddie, we also now have to deal with these wack-ass fans policing people, calling queer people homophobic, sending death threats and violent hate speech to people who don’t like their ship, actively talking bad about oliver bc he clearly isn’t a fan of lfj or the way this storyline was handled, on top of having to deal with the show’s retconning of typhoid’s character and trying to brush his shit under a rug using queerness as an “excuse” and thus enabling these people to use the “homophobia” rhetoric when someone doesn’t want a boring ass rewash basic ship.

[eclecticmiasma]

Hello! Good evening!

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Mithrun and I had a small scenario pop up in my head, and it would be lovely to see your vision on how this would play out, please and thank you 💕:

AFAB!Elf!reader is a member of the canaries, very soft spoken and rather kind. The nicest, most likely. Against her better judgement she’s down bad for the captain and everyone else is like “pls no I’d rather you not”. (She can fix him/jk)

Mithrun realizes she has feelings for him and in a very subtle way treats her a little more gentle than the others. Lets her spoil him a tiny bit more. Listens to her a bit more.

Reader can only hope one day maybe…just maybe…the captain can show a little interest in her too 🥺 and is oblivious that he lets her get away with a little more than others

Just very soft feelings all over

I won't spoil it for those who haven't read the manga, but there are instances where we see Mithrun treat Kabru rather favorably and opening up in great detail about his past. In a side story, we also see that younger Mithrun cared for the other canaries quite a bit. I imagine that even without his desires, Mithrun would appreciate care shown to him in his own Mithrun-y way.

SFW

Mithrun might be adverse to you at first, because when he really looks inward you remind him of his younger self.

However, Mithrun would soon come to see that you don't have the same...pitfalls in your personality that brought him where he is today. He might even come to somewhat admire your ability to stay genuinely kind in a world like theirs.

The other canaries start to notice that you have a much easier time getting their leader to take an ounce of care in his own well-being than any of them ever have. Some of them think it's entertaining while others (Pattadol) think the favoritism is unnacceptable.

Cithis might tease him about it if you aren't around, "We don't want to worry poor [y/n] by getting all dehydrated now, do we captain?"

Even the mention of your name is enough to motivate Mithrun, though you remain completely unaware. In your mind, the captain regards you as nothing more than a subordinate.

You don't notice the way his good eye trains on you as you talk about life before the canaries. You don't realize how fast he falls asleep when you're near. The magnitude of the fact that one night he voluntarily tells you a story about when he and his brother were children slips by you completely.

Pattadol is the only one to ever bring it up to you directly, and you truly have no idea what she's talking about. None of the others help her either, preferring to sit back and watch how her face reddens with frustration.

Mithrun isn't oblivious to the situation, however. He knows that there's something about you that...calms him, at the very least. He's sharp enough to know that you feel the same way about him, perhaps even stronger.

He likes having you around. It's not something he wants when you're gone, but it's something he enjoys while you're there. Because he knows you have some type of feelings for him, he indulges you at every turn. He even lets you wash his back and massage the scarred tissue built at the tips of his ears- though you're terribly relieved he can't see the heat rising on your cheeks as you do so.

One day, long long after the dungeoneering is done, perhaps you might even be able to help Mithrun find his desires, find himself again.

*do not post elsewhere without explicit permission. please consider reblogging, as Tumblr tends to hide adult content!

[RULES] [MASTERLISTS] [AO3] [KO-FI]

[dolicekiss]

Heyyyy,

could you write a one-shot, where fem reader is James Bond‘s niece and has accidentaly met her uncle in the city, kept following him and this is how she ends up in the casino? Bond realizes this pretty quickly, but can‘t save her from an intrigued Le Chiffre, who kidnaps her. (With Smut?)

a/n: anon ur request doesn't specify if le chiffre catches on whether reader is bond’s niece or not, so le chiffre IS aware she's his niece.

Casino & Cash

PAIRING: Le Chiffre x Bond's niece!Female reader

TRIGGER WARNING: kidnapping, dubcon, drugging, threatening, unprotected sex, age gap (reader is twenty, Le Chiffre is thirty five), hair pulling, bratty reader, choking, sadistic behavior, mention of blood, praise kink, degrading kink, forced oral (female receiving), forced fucking, knife play.

SYNOPSIS: The last person you expected to crash into was your uncle, in Montenegro, on his own vacation. You were warned to stay away from Bond, as the man was on a dangerous mission but because of your young curiosity, you found yourself following your uncle's trail. It didn't end well because when you entered the Casino, you not only caught your uncle's attention but a specific banker’s too; Le Chiffre.

You hadn't expected to find your own uncle at a store in Montenegro, shoppin for a tuxedo, especially when your own mother had warned you to stay as far as you could from him and his line of work.

Never were your whys and whats answered, only subtle orders left for you to follow.

You were stubborn. Wanted to know more about him, about what he did, just what did he do that was beyond your understanding.

“Listen to me—”

You interrupted him. “I will not. You always ignore us and never even visit us anymore. Mom keeps saying to let you be but we're family, are we not?”

You didn't like just how easily your uncle had abandoned you. Just for the sake of his all secretive, dangerous occupation. It didn't sit right with you. Everyday, your mother would miss her brother and hope that someday he'd visit but James Bond had his own plans, to save the world and rid it of terrorist organizations.

Bond let out a grunt of frustration. As if preparing himself for a game of tough poker wasn't already energy draining, he now had to deal with your stubbornness. “You don't understand. You're only a child, I do not wish you to even have knowledge about all this."

“A child?!” You exclaimed, clearly offended that he'd even thought of you as one. “I am twenty, an adult. You wouldn't know though. Last time you visited, I was only eighteen.”

You recalled back to his short visit. Only entering through the doors of your apartment, discussing a few words with your mother and then leaving after dropping a bar of chocolate on the wooden desk in front of you which he'd claimed was a souvenir brought from Japan.

A bar of chocolate — for an eighteen year old.

It pissed you off just how avoidant your own uncle was.

“Just because I don't visit often doesn't mean I don't keep an eye on my family.” You shook your head at that, staring at him with a pout like some petulant child. Your father had abandoned you when you were only a little girl and when James stepped in to take care of you, your attachment to him grew.

So when he too took off under the name of his dangerous work, you made it your mission to confront the man.

But the last thing you expected was to see him here. Strolling through the mall, coursing through the tuxedos hanging from the metal rod in a luxurious store. Your mother missed him but her reaction was not as extreme as yours.

Before you could utter out another remark of disappointment, your uncle dismissed you by answering a phone call. Then he left, just like that. He once again didn't bother to look back and you suppressed the urge to stomp your foot on the marbled floor in the middle of the mall.

But you weren't gonna sit idle.

So you got to it.

Following him — like a snake slithering after its prey and tracking down its every moment. Subtle or not. Pursuing him lead you to Casino Royale. It took you days to land yourself a place at the Casino Royale, all the opulence and wealth you possessed came in help. Coming from the Bond family, you had access to all the ancestral wealth as well as the money James Bond earned through his work.

Casino Royal was beautiful and glimmering in pure opulence, the type of place you usually avoided as you were not fond of rich scums that looked down upon everyone else and considered the lives of middle class and lower nothing but futile.

Draped in black satin, you made your entrance inside the casino. Quick to grasp the attention of multiple gazes but you focused only on your uncle, capturing his blue eyes.

Found you.

You sent him a short smug grin. Like you'd win, you had found him. Tracked him down no matter how hard he tried to conceal his tracks and not be found but he had forgotten that at the end of the day, you too were his niece and carried his intelligence.

Without knowing what you were stepping into, you moved across the room. In your naivety, you'd laid yourself bare to the lion that possessed the front seat. Le Chiffre watched you move with such grace, your hips almost dislocating with how blissfully you walked over to the table.

To you, you'd won this game of cat and mouse. Unbeknownst to the real danger that your uncle so desperately tried to protect you against. He did everything in his power to keep you concealed but your foolishness and stubbornness had lead you to step right in the lion’s den.

As you stood behind your uncle, you wrapped your arm around his broad shoulders. Everyone watched, but Le Chiffre analyzed the scene unfold before him. Finger tapping against his temple, the sight of you nearly making him lose focus on the game. He was more curious though — a craving to unwrap the mystery that you were.

You were not an agent.

If you were, he would have known.

When your face came next to Bond’s, the gears in his head turned. He tilted his head, stare running over the both of you in scrutiny before his brain snapped.

You were no damn agent.

Nor were you an accomplice.

He registered the similarities between the two of you. You beared a striking resemblance to the man you stood next to, the lips and nose nearly giving away your relationship to him. You were a relative and Le Chiffre’s mind already was coming up with ideas and ways to use you as leverage against his nemesis.

“See, I told you. You can't always escape me, dear uncle.” You whispered in his ear, a small giggle escaping you.

Completely oblivious to the man with the scarred eye who stared at you with heightened curiosity in his one, dark eye. The other still holding some remnants of human emotions.

Le Chiffre also noticed the nervousness that decorated Bond’s face. It was obvious he was sweating at your presence in the Casino, not fond of it at all. Your naivety was going to get you in danger, as he saw how the men in the room eyed you like you were some new piece of meat.

Bond was an egoistic man.

He didn't care about risking a few lives if it meant saving millions others. Sacrificing a few people was a game of chess for him but you.

You were family.

He couldn't possibly risk you.

Especially knowing his sister would unleash hell about you.

The man was in a fucking dilemma. He didn't know what to do, but right now progressing with the game was his ultimate goal and aim so he did. Brushing your small hands off his shoulders.

“Just leave and don't come back here.” He whispered, and you looked at him. His blue eyes held no sarcasm or hesitance. He was serious and the look he gave you caused a chill to dance up your arms.

With a pout of reluctance, you made another grave mistake by ignoring his order and walking away to the bar. Le Chiffre’s gaze followed you and when you plopped down on the velvety chair, you accidentally made eye contact with him.

Appalled at how attractive he was, despite the minor flaw of a scarred eye. His gaze drank you up, every drop of you. From the revealed ankles of yours to the slit in your dress. He found it irritating it that he couldn't peek further into the recess of your inner thighs, the gap closed as you'd tossed your leg over the other.

You were quite young. He could see that too and something primal rose up in his throat which he drowned down with a glass of cognac.

Bond knew things were going to go haywire, especially with the way you'd captured Le Chiffre’s attention. It was good as he could win the game of poker with you distracting him but he couldn't possibly allow himself to include you in all this. Knowing that once you're in, there's no way out. No way to escape the clouds of danger looming above your head.

Everytime Le Chiffre went in with his money, he stole glances from you. Following how your stained lips met the rim of the glass of martini — his own throat beginning to become parched. You weren't oblivious to his gaze but the aura that levitated off the man like a dark cloud of death was a warning enough to not give him any attention.

You only focused on your uncle, Bond’s sparkling blues finding you. Continuing to play the game but also worrying about you and how he'd face his sister if she were to find out her daughter was involved in James’ life threatening games.

You had both the men all over the place.

One with your beauty, other with your blood.

Three glasses of martinis and a reapplied lipstick later, the game had come to an end. It was your uncle who emerged as the winner and you couldn't control your joy. Immediately embracing him in a hug and smiling at him. All the people in the Casino watching you, curious to what your relationship with James Bond was.

“Uncle, you won.”

Le Chiffre heard that.

Oh he did and a small subtle grin passed when he did.

You had to be his niece. You couldn't be his sister, nor wife nor daughter. The man was an agent for god’s sake, he couldn't risk to harbor his own relationships. You had to be someone else's. Le Chiffre’s anger subsided because he had found the right leverage against James Bond.

“Don't call me that.” He said through gritted teeth — shaking his head in disappointment. You blinked your eyes, dumbfounded.

Le Chiffre left the room, after stealing a glance from you. Already making plans to kidnap you and bring you to his knees, use you into James handing over all the money.

Bond had lead you outside to the parking lot, angry and frustrated. You couldn't understand the depth of the situation. You were only cheering for him but you weren't aware that by referring to him as your uncle, you'd stepped into the spotlight of danger and macabre. He pushed you inside the car and slammed the door shut, slipping inside the driver's seat.

“If you're told over and over again to stay the fuck away from me, why won't you listen?” You watched with a blurring vision as he slammed both his hands down on the posh steering wheel of the car. Your body flinched at such an aggressive reaction, succumbing to the leather of the seat you were.

You tried to excuse your behavior. “Uncle, I only wanted to spend time with you—”

“Fuck spending time with me. You're a target now, they'll do anything to get their hands on you.” James was a fucking mess. Perspired forehead and trembling hands, he started the car and began driving. There was only one single thing on his mind, to get you to the airport as fast as he could.

There wasn't even enough time to contact MI6 and call for emergency transportation for you. Le Chiffre had found out and you were not a human anymore — only blackmail material. A threat to both MI6 and James Bond.

The car drive was reckless, tears falling profusely down your cheeks. You couldn't understand what was happening but you were sure that something shady, something past your normal life was going on here. James drove like his life depended on it but then a blast roared through the darkness of the night.

Cutting the silence crisply in between, as the car came to a screeching halt. Its engine roaring out into the void the sky had become. You had no time to register the situation as the car door was slammed open, from both sides, and you two were pulled out. The strange faces moved aside and there emerged a familiar face, the man with the scarred eye.

He scared you.

Just by existing.

Your uncle was knocked over and pushed on his knees by one of the guards while another held you tightly against him. You couldn't give in, not that easily. Turning to the man who held you, you bared your teeth and bit down on his arm. His scream was cut short as he slapped you across the face, sending you straight into the grass by the road.

“She's resilient.” Le Chiffre commented, impressed by your act of rebellion. You were surrounded by guns, by dangerous people but you had the fucking nerve to harm one of his men.

That was attractive.

“Let her go.” Bond gasped out, the side of his head bleeding from the rough handling of Le Chiffre’s men. “Take me, but release her. She's of no use to you.”

Le Chiffre tilted his head. He walked over to where you were, kneeled down on the floor with a gun to your head. You accumulated the spit mixed with blood in your mouth and spat it to the side, glaring up at him through your thick lashes. The man fucking relished in how seemingly daring you were. He was going to enjoy you more than torturing James for his money.

He saw a challenge before him.

Le Chiffre reached for your chin, holding it tightly in his palm. Examining your face for any bruises and other than a busted lip, he found nothing of serious cause. “She's of no use? She's of all the use I need right now.”

Your uncle let out profanities of disagreement at the idea of you getting involved with the disgusting world of these men. He didn't like it — he hated it. He'd kept you seperate from him all these years because you were innocent. Innocent like the people he'd taken up this job to save.

“Fuck you, cunt.” You swore at Le Chiffre, glaring at him. That act of resilience only made you more attractive and he had to claim you.

He released your chin and smirked. “Drug them.”

That was all his guard dogs needed. Punctured with a syringe in your neck, you tried to hold onto your uncle before the void could consume you but you failed.

— ♡ —

You'd regained consciousness, expecting to be chained in some dark basement. But you were in a bedroom, as your hazy vision registered your surroundings. It was a serene room — sleek and modern. Too boring and dull for your taste.

After the cloud of fog dissipated from your brain, you finally scanned your surroundings in depth. You were on a bed, comfortable and soft and the room had a table in the corner then a balcony. You tried to get up but couldn't, feeling weak in the knees and thighs for some reason.

Your forehead was sweaty and your cunt throbbed. All while laying in an air conditioned room. It was quite weird to be feeling this hot and intense when the room was cold and the temperature was low.

You tried to writhe out of the restraints put on your wrist, but it didn't budge. The rope scraping against your skin and bruising it in the process. A soft whimper left you when you squeezed your thighs. Just what the fuck was happening to you? Brain fogging up and sweat oozing out of all your pores, you tried to scream out but couldn't due to a parched throat.

Then the door opened.

You were so occupied with your own messed up situation, you didn't even look up at who had entered the room.

Le Chiffre stared at you, as you squirmed like some worm on the bed. Back arching off once in awhile, lips letting out little huffs and brows furrowed in frustration. He knew what was happening to you, he was the cause of it afterall.

“Feel any indifferent?”

Your head shot up at his voice.

You hated the man already. He'd kidnapped you and your uncle, hurt you both yet — yet he appeared so fucking attractive. There was something terribly wrong with you because all your mind thought about inching closer to the man and getting fucked by him.

He was like an oasis and you were a thirsty woman.

“W-What did you do to me?” You managed to stutter out, squeezing your legs together in an attempt to satiate the hunger of your moist cunt.

You hated how needy you were acting, especially for such an evil man. This was completely against your own morals yet you couldn't help but crave his cock right inside you, to calm down the throbbing of your soaked cunt.

He smiled. “Just a little drug, to make you more pliant.”

Pliant? For what?

You blinked a little. Cheeks flushed and strands sticking fo your forehead. “You fucking asshole. Let me go now.”

Le Chiffre grinned and nodded his head, leaving you completely shocked. He came closer to you, reaching over to untie the knots on your wrist and releasing you. His actions left you puzzled, your blurred gaze looking at him.

“Go.” He said. “Try stepping out this door and you'll get yourself fucked by most of my men here.”

You flinched at his words, not even having enough energy to step out the bed. Le Chiffre ran his finger over your arm, sliding it up and you leaned more into his touch. Desperately trying to get more, to settle the ache in your body.

Le Chiffre chuckled, seeing how desperate you were.

“P-Please. I don't feel good.” You had tears streaming down your face as you reached for his chest, running your fingers all over the expanse of it. You knew deep in your heart that to ache for him like this was wrong, to want him like this was horrible but your body wanted to succumb to this need. This crave and desire.

To you, Le Chiffre appeared ten times more alluring than he did before.

He stood before you, one hand in his pocket as he stared at you. “Yeah? Do you feel hot, mon chéri?”

You nodded your head, getting on your knees on the bed as your hands yearned to touch more of him. Flying up to his nape, freshly done nails grazing over the skin hidden beneath his collar. You stared at him, unbridled need controlling each and every molecule and tissue in your body.

“Want me to fuck you, hm? Tell me, do you want to cum on the cock of the man who has your uncle captive?” You stalled for a moment, not wanting to answer that. Guilt and wanton warring inside you. Your own uncle was somewhere, probably getting tortured and here you were with a saturated cunt aching to be fucked.

By the same man who'd taken you and your uncle captive.

You didn't want to answer.

Fingernails digging into his skin out of complete hatred, your gaze darkened and Le Chiffre only scoffed. You were touching him but also hurting him — a sweet mix which he found delightful. He grabbed both your hands, pinning your wrists down leaving you in need.

“Tell me.”

You shook your head.

He snickered. “Then suffer.”

Before he could sit up and leave, you grabbed him by his face and pressed your lips against his. The kiss was haste and messy, your lips hungrily colliding with his, tongue trying to pry open his mouth. Le Chiffre’s hand went up to your hair as he grabbed it — bunching it in his fist and tugging on the locks.

He tried to push you off him but the way you were kissing him like a starved, mad woman, it made his wall crumble apart.

You whimpered, pushing your body up against his. Trying to feel him, to rub your body all over his. Le Chiffre knew the drug had taken its affect on you but he didn't know you'd be this desperate. Hungrily sucking on his tongue and slurping up his saliva, like you needed him.

He could feel his spit mixed with yours smearing all over his mouth.

When he pulled away, he found you looking back at him with the most vulnerable and submissive look ever. Pants tightening at the mere sight of you looking this messed up, Le Chiffre felt his restraint slip away as he tossed you on the bed.

“Please,” you moaned, parting your legs like some common whore. “use me—ruin me, please.”

Le Chiffre had enough. He didn't waste time, ripping the dress to shreds and tossing its littered pieces everywhere. Cold hands groping you everywhere, acting like numbing gel to your fiery skin. He rid you of your panties too, prying your thighs open and exposing your sweet cunt to him.

The man brought his head down to your thighs, nuzzling it between them. His hands gripping each thigh tightly, fingers dipping into the flesh. “Look at your little hole clenching around nothing but air. How fucking embarrassing and disgusting.”

You responded with a whine, both hands dropping down to grab onto his neatly done hair.

He blowed air on your clit, watching it twitch and he chuckled. You were fucking pathetic and small and weak. All at his mercy and right now he could do whatever he wished to do with you. Humiliate you, hurt you, ruin you, fuck you. Just a doll for him to play with.

In a moment of regained control of your morals, you started to punch at his shoulders to move him away from you. Torn between the desperate chase for pleasure and the despair that awaited you at the end of this debauchery.

Le Chiffre didn't like how you still fought off the effects of the drug.

Releasing your thigh, he grasped both your wrists in a tight hold and pressed them over your stomach. “Enough. Don't fight it unless you want me to call in every guard outside so they can see you like this.”

Your act of defiance fell apart.

He ran his wet tongue over the slit of your cunt and your breath hitched, body twitching and back rising from the mattress. Striking you across your thigh, he pushed it up and bent your knee. Exposing more of your cunt to him. “Stay still.”

“C-Can’t. Feels too good.” You whimpered out, wrists struggling in his hold. You wished to be free, to kick and throw your hands everywhere. A pathetic mess of hopelessness and sin you were, sprawled across the bed for him to unfurl.

He chuckled against your cunt, before closing his lips around your clit. He sucked on it with vigor as you felt his sharp teeth nearly prickle the sensitive bud. Due to the drug, your body's sensitivity and senses had heightened, twitching in his hold everytime he touched you in the slightest.

You stared at him and in return he did the same, his scarred eye only fueling the ache in your abdomen. He was truly a beautiful man, the most attractive man you'd ever seen but his deeds were as ugly as his insides. There he laid before your very legs, using his skilled tongue to pull you into a deeper abyss.

Le Chiffre unwrapped his lips around your clit as his tongue made its way past your wet folds, plunging inside your hole. Tears rolled down your face as you attempted to free yourself from the restraint his hand was around your wrists.

“Wanna hold your hair, please. Just wanna hold it.” You were a sputtering mess and the man found you quite innocent in that very moment but he knew you were also a brat who'd given him a hard time. “You want to hold my hair, hm? You pathetic little whore. Want to hold my hair as I eat your little cunt while my men torture your uncle downstairs?”

Intaking a sharp breath, you didn't know what to do. As if his actions weren't already disgraceful, his words made you feel sick too. You whimpered for him, a simple plea to be freed and Le Chiffre grinned, slowly retracting his hands. The second he did, your fingers found themselves entangled between his dark silky locks. His intimidating eyes swallowing you whole as he continued his ministrations.

You could feel yourself near.

Stomach flipping and twisting into crazy knots, thighs suffering from convulsions. He only admired the view before him — a beauty with flushed, rosette cheeks and perspired forehead staring back at him. He ate you out like there was no tomorrow, a night that was his last. His saliva with a mix of your arousal falling down his chin.

“You taste so good, doll. Fucking delicious against my tongue.” He grunted, fucking you with his rigid tongue.

And you soon reached your own end, back arching off the bed and a high pitched scream tearing through your chest. Your throat parched and dry from all the sounds you'd made. Le Chiffre watched you as you became more of a mess underneath him, your arousal coating his tongue.

He licked you up like a dog, panting and melting in the taste your little body had to offer. Hands holding you down against the bed, he took in the sight of your eyes meeting the back of your skull and your body falling apart.

And when you'd came down from your blissful high, you found the ache in your pussy to only grow more intense. In need of something, something that only Le Chiffre could offer you.

In a few seconds, the man had hastily stripped himself naked. When your blitzed gaze fell lower and you grasped the sheer size of his cock — it dismayed you. In an attempt to run from him, you tried to slid off the soft mattress but Le Chiffre was quick to grasp your legs, tugging you closer to him. Until he was settled between your thighs, both hands holding your knees apart.

“Getting kidnapped and the idea of torture doesn't scare you but the size of my cock does? How fucking ironic.” Le Chiffre chuckled, firmly locking you in place.

He brought his hand upto your mouth. “Spit.”

You shook your head, stubborn. Torn between the ache of your cunt and the guilt about your uncle, you fought an inner battle inside you. Your body craved him but your mind reminded you just who he was, what he'd done to you and your uncle.

Just how evil he was.

He let out a groan of frustration, his fingers entangling in your dark locks as he gripped on the roots. “Fucking spit.”

You whimpered at the harsh tug and gathered saliva in your mouth, before spitting a glob out on his open palm. Le Chiffre hummed in satisfaction and ran the wet palm over his cock, lubricating it. You stared at him with hooded eyes as rubbed his fat cockhead against your clit — before entering you in one, harsh thrust.

A loud high pitched moan tore through you, the painful stretch surging your body forward.

He told hold of one thigh and hiked it up, bending your knee to angle his cock deeper inside you. The position gave him access to more depth of your gummy tight walls and the man growled, loving the feeling how you'd clamped down on him.

Walls clinging to him in desperate. Cunt trying to suck his cock, to consume him whole. Tears emerged on your waterline, tear ducts nearly expoding as Le Chiffre allowed you to grow used to his size. His delicious girth stretched you out like no other as your hips writhed underneath him.

He pushed until he had completely pressed his pelvis against yours. Becoming one with you.

“One might think you're a virgin from how fucking tight you are.” He grunted, staring down at you. Once neatly done hair now a mess, few strands slipping through the grasp of gel and hovering over his wet sweaty forehead.

Le Chiffre started to snap his hips against yours, holding you down as he took you against your will. Your perpetual cries and struggles loud and reverberating through the corners of the luxurious room. You tried to hit him — hands messily attempting to deliver a few smacks to his bare chest.

So he grabbed both your wrists and forcefully slammed them down, restraining you against the mattress. His one perfect eye holding all the anger and frustration that he soon was going to take out on you.

“Even the drug can't take the bratty behavior out of you.” Le Chiffre groaned, sliding in and out if you. “Your little pussy is soaked and throbbing for me but you still want to show off your morals.”

You sniffled at his words and he watched as a lone tear slid down. You looked so sinful and the man was not going to release you anytime sooner. He had big plans for you, especially now that he'd figured you were related to his nemesis.

Poor girl caught up in their evil games.

“I-I hate you.” You said, through broken moans and ragged breaths. Le Chiffre genuinely found it amusing when you'd expressed your hatred for him. It only added fuel to his desire, his thrusts going more vigorous as he stepped his foot up on the bed.

Both his hands flew to your throat — circling around to cut off your air supply. Your fists banged over his chest, at his arms and wrists but you were extremely pathetic against the man. Grip tightening with each second, he admired the way your face slowly turned almost a pale hue of blue. Back arching off the bed and body struggling.

Then he released you.

Just when your lungs had swelled up in dire need of oxygen, veins going numb.

“Wish I could kill you.” Le Chiffre moaned, hands still decorating your throat in bruises as the brute force of his strokes hit your sensitive spot. Feeling his thick cockhead repeatedly slam into your gspot and everytime he did, your body jerked. “But you're so much more useful like this. Killing you would be a waste of a good cunt.”

You loathed the way he spoke to you like you were some whore.

Face drenched in sweat and tears, your stomach heated up with a feeling that you deeply tried to suppress. Le Chiffre felt you grip his cock like a vice, realizing that you were hear. As was he.

His animalistic like thrusts continued delivering into you, and you sobbed whenever a vein of his cock throbbed inside you. It was all too vivid and raw. You could feel things that you were sure you wouldn't under a normal setting. The drug he'd used had heightened your senses and you hated just how good Le Chiffre was making you feel.

His hand unwrapped your throat, slipping between your legs to run over your swollen little bud. Your thighs twitched as he pounded into you, all while forcefully pulling an orgasm out of you.

Soon you came all over him — body twitching and trembling. He'd fucked your orgasm out of you, watching as you made a mess everywhere. Creaming all over his cock and the sight made him spill too, coating your walls with his thick seed. Your eyes rolled back and your lips shuddered, falling agape.

“Yeah there it is. Little cunt is so fucking tight, so very fucking tight.” He rode out his own release, with endless grunts and growls of pleasure. It only acted as an addition to your need for him.

He looked so attractive.

While he sinned inside you.

Le Chiffre grunted, fucking his cum back into you and by this point you were too far gone into oblivion. You allowed it to happen, frail body a victim of dehydration and the dehumanizing act done by Le Chiffre was too overwhelming so you didn't register it. Blocked it away and went numb.

He stared down at you, hand slowly reaching for your face. You flinched, expecting something rough or a hit even but instead came a gentle stroke from his thumb over your soaked cheek. “You're absolutely gorgeous, especially like this.” He licked the tear he collected on his thumb, before pulling out of you and dropping besides you.

Your breathing was torn, gradually becoming even with time. You turned away from him, not caring about anything anymore. You'd missed your uncle, and such a simple relationship lead to this. If you'd known, you would've always steered clear of James Bond and the people around him.

In a way, you deemed it to be your fault too.

“You didn't know, did you?”

Le Chiffre’s deep voice broke the silence, as a strong arm was tossed over you from behind.

You knew what he was referring to. Of course you didn't know your uncle was involved in some shady shit like this. If they had told you, if your mother had just been clear about all this, none of the monstrosities you faced tonight would've happened.

“Innocents often lose their lives amidst wars caused by others.” If you didn't know how cruel the man was, you would've assumed for a split second that these were words of reassurance but these were mere taunts — to remind you that he'd captured you.

You were leverage now.

For him.

[eemamminy-art]

Extremely difficult top 5: Top 5 butches

I've sat on this for a long time because I wasn't sure how I wanted to approach it! Do I pick real life butches, butches that are expressly called as such in their medias, or characters that I interpret as butch?

Ultimately, I opted for the last option, because I think that will be the most fun in terms of me trying to argue my case lol

Faris Scherwiz — Final Fantasy V

"James Kidd" / Mary Read — Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag

Agrias Oaks — Final Fantasy Tactics

Vi — Arcane

Zero — Final Fantasy XIV

Further rambling and pictures under the read more cut because oh my goodness this is. Long.

Faris Scherwiz — Final Fantasy V

This character awoke things in a young me, playing a fan translated ROM of FFV. Faris is this pirate captain, initially presented as a beautiful man, later revealed to be the lost princess who made a new life for herself after being lost at sea.

She thinks of herself in masculine terms, and has an honor among thieves sort of outlook. She does put herself, her crew, and her friends first, but she's not so cowardly as to run away when she sees the world is at stake and there is a higher calling for her as a warrior of light. She's very loyal and brave, but lacks the chivalry of a knight.

She's fearful to go back to the life she had before as a princess, because she loves the person she is now. The only thing that really gives her pause is that her sister very deeply wants a relationship with her, and she has reservations about growing close to her and thus to the life she left behind.

"James Kidd" / Mary Read — Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag

I know Mary Read was a real person but stick with me here. We all know AC plays fast and loose with portrayals of real life figures so I'll be proceeding as if talking about the fictional character, not the real life pirate.

When in her persona as James Kidd, he is as smarmy as can be on the outside, but hints that there is a deeper complexity to him. He's deeply enigmatic and flirtatious. He's clever, and drips juuust enough temptation to guide Edward onto the path of the assassins.

When she reveals herself to be a woman, she keeps the same demeanor as always. It's a secret she keeps close to her chest, and reveals it only to use her body to her advantage to create a distraction. Her dedication to her friends and to her freedom matters far more to her than her presentation.

I'm grateful that even despite the era in which this game came out, there's not a total personality switch after the reveal. She's still so much herself, regardless of how she physically appears or which names or pronouns she uses. She makes it clear that she considers herself a woman, in spite of how she normally presents, and she's just bursting with so much confidence. Goals, honestly. She's a hugely inspirational character to me.

Plus I mean. Oh my gosh. She has this rumbling, sultry voice with a Yorkshire accent. Swoon.

Agrias Oaks — Final Fantasy Tactics

I want to first preface with an anecdote, that the lesbian subtext between Agrias and Ovelia is so overt that while growing up, my brother's best friend refused to believe Agrias was a woman and headcanoned her as a male knight to justify it in his head (he also headcanoned Ramza as being a woman to justify the gay subtext between him and Delita.. 😂 lmao FFT is extremely gay please play it)

But onto Agrias herself: she is really the textbook definition of a knight. She would give everything for her kingdom and her princess. She is lawful good to a fault, which is not an easy feat in the world of Ivalice. Chivalrous, devoted, stern but kind when it comes to Her Highness... 🥺

So normal about them... they are like THE yuri ship in final fantasy, but not a lot of people played FFT!! 😭

They even mention it in FFXIV in Orbonne Monastery... love wins......

Vi — Arcane

Going to first say I don't play league of legends, mobas give me hives lol but Vi was phenomenal in Arcane. I am missing a lot of context for the character because of that though, so my take on her is purely based on her portrayal in Arcane.

She's headstrong, she lets her emotions get the better of her, she gets into fights, she's scrappy as hell, she's protective and devoted. What stands out sooo much is that, these are traits you might find in a male protagonist in other media, but the way Vi goes about it is just so in touch with her womanhood. Just a more masculine womanhood.

All of the characters in Arcane are written so well, but I found it very very refreshing for there to be so many well written women with all sorts of personalities and archetypes, and not just the usual tropes you see for female characters.

Zero — Final Fantasy XIV

I waffled a little bit on this pick, because the butch identity is very much about demeanor as much as it is appearance-- if not more so.

Zero is a little bit of an odd duck in that way. She has some very vulnerable, sensitive moments. She's sometimes downright meek. Overall she is cool, confident, business-like, and has her own sense of morality forged by her losses, her time spent bound in contract as a voidsent, and the harsh world of the Thirteenth.

I admit, I initially found her softer moments a little off-putting. Putting it into perspective though, butches do have these moments of vulnerability and softness. It's something really key in the dynamic of butch and femme, that where butches are strong and protective, they need stability and soothing from femmes. A feminine strength to heal the damage that the world has inflicted on the butch while she stands as a shield to herself and other women.

I don't think it was the writers' intentions for her to read that way, I'm pretty sure this is me seeing what I want to see lol. But I think it's still nice! I only didn't notice at first because I play as a gay male wol so her being vulnerable with him activated my fight or flight response. But outside the context of my own OC as the warrior of light, in the context of maybe a female wol (or better yet an experienced and no-nonsense femme like Y'shtola 👀) it's really nice to think about. I think also the pacing of the Endwalker patches didn't do her many favors, but when given time to reflect on her character arc, I think there's a lot of room there, especially when interpreting her in the context of a butch/femme relationship.

She is also pretty new to the whole human thing. She's like a baby butch, still very soft. She can bite and hit hard, but when things break through her shell, they cut deep. Which makes her worthwhile adding to this list, in contrast to the others who are much more experienced and able to protect themselves and others.

[philtstone]

title: check yes, juliet

Summary:

It doesn't matter that Juliet is a freshly-minted, top-of-her-class field agent (alright, so she hasn't actually been in the field yet) or one of the few women working for the Federal Bureau of Investigation's cutting edge check fraud department (just last week, their 20-year-old coffee maker broke and they ran out of number two pencils to mark up their overhead projector notes with): every time her mother calls, all she does is lament that her beautiful, intelligent daughter isn't meeting any eligible bachelors.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Maryanne sighs eventually. “All O’Hara women fall for liars, Julie. It’s our curse.”

Juliet has to wonder if she didn't scoff at her mother's claim a little bit too soon.

my brother & i had the earth shattering realization a month ago that the plot of "catch me if you can" (2002) is almost to a tee just a mildly alternate psych timeline and that thought has lived in my head rent free to such an insane degree that eventually 14 thousand words poured out of me in au fic form. im posting it so as many other people as possible can see the vision. and also because im sure theres one person other than me who revels in early seasons shawnjuliet's frankly insane levels of chemistry, lol. enjoy!

READ FULL FIC ON AO3

Excerpt:

“Your average bounced check would be routed to the bank it originates from, so you’d only really have a few days in one place before you were discovered. This guy’s been filing off the routing numbers, changing ‘em somehow – so cleanly and neatly that it’ll take a real sharp eye to notice. It’s all about the branch you’re cashing it in. A check cashed in at Chase Manhattan with the one changed to ten’s gonna bounce halfway around the country before anyone figures out it’s rotten, and by that point this asshole is long gone. The numbers go East, Central, West – you see how they cover 0-60, 70-80, and of course they require a special kind of ink to be recognized as real checks, which you’d all know if you’d read the report I circulated …”

Juliet doesn’t notice the full cup of orange juice in front of her until it’s too late. 

Her head’s still full of Carlton’s two hour long briefing this morning, during which she learned more about check fraud than she’d have ever thought a single person could in one lifespan. Certainly not Juliet, who’d originally studied literature at Florida State. Then again, back then she’d have never expected to end up an FBI agent, either.

Then there’s the wired, tense feeling in her gut that probably won’t go away ‘til this sting is over and they bring in the pathetic local guy Carlton’s been tracking for the last week. His MO is pretty girls in pastel dresses, which made Juliet the right man – woman – for the job. At least maybe doing this’ll help the guys in the office take her seriously as a field agent. And, well … she does love a nice peachy pink cardigan. The color goes well with her complexion.

“This idiot’s no real con man, he’s just a clown who can’t be bothered to work an honest job. Child’s play compared to the real thing. ” Carlton tends to pause here, angry that he’s got to acknowledge it like that – the real thin g. “ You know what they’ve been calling him in the papers these days?”  

Him . Always him. They don’t have a name on the subject yet, despite over a million cashed in fraudulent checks. Juliet hums and nods so her partner feels acknowledged. 

“ The skywayman . Pathetic. Like he’s some magician or something, instead of a two-bit liar who thinks he’s smarter than me. ”

“This isn’t personal, Carlton ,” Juliet says tiredly. “ It’s not like he knows who you are to be deliberately toying with you.”  

“Oh yes he is. I know he is. I know him .”

Her hands aren’t quite shaking, because that would be stupid; this guy, their local guy, shouldn’t have a gun on him, and if he does he’s not the type to shoot a woman. Juliet focuses on the paper in front of her and tucks a lock of her hair behind one ear. A window of ten minutes – that’s what Carlton said. Unlike Carlton’s unsub nemesis, they know plenty about this one. He’ll come in, dressed like the middle-aged schlub he is, loose tie probably, gray slacks, thinning hair. He’ll notice her, buy her a soda she’ll accept with a faulty check and then pick her pocket for the cash. The string of pearls at her neck makes her a sweet college girl whose parents have money. She mentally forces herself to stop chewing her lip and instead moves her right hand down to her lap, where she can pick at her nail polish without anyone seeing. 

“Well, obviously we wanna catch him,” Agent Dobson says, when they’re a third of the way through the morning briefing and half the room is asleep or dreaming of lunch. Juliet, of course, has been furiously taking notes. He means the Skywayman; he means the real thing. “But you gotta admit, Lassiter, there is a bit of a magic show to a good con, isn’t there? The press has that one thing right.”

“It’s not magic. It’s lies and deceit and a healthy helping of audacity, and a damn good typewriter. O’Hara, write that down. We’re gonna go through that list of makes and models again, see what we can come up with.”

Deep breath. Her purse, orange to match the cardigan, is in her lap. The gun’s in the purse. She’ll draw it, but not to shoot. This is the kind of work she’s begged the Chief for, and she’ll be just fine.

Maybe Juliet would feel less desperate to prove herself if this diner wasn’t in Miami, and her father didn’t gift her the only string of pearls she owns.

A voice clears itself quietly above her.

“Uh, excuse me? Hi, yeah, hi. That’s my seat.”

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[tobi-is-starving]

Being a twin and having an 3d is pretty annoying when the other doesn’t. Like ofc I’d wanna have my bday cake this year just be a bowl of fruits, I love those. You know who ruins that plan? My twin brother who is medically obese and eats 400-650 c@l midnight snacks, has shitty c@l dense chocolate milk every day, over salts his 2-person meals to the max, defends the r slur, makes homophobic and transphobic jokes, makes jokes about suicidal people, and makes excuses to not work out to play on his computer all day in a dark room. Oh, and he showers like once a week, but only once a month for washing his hair of all things. I swear, he’s so fucking disgusting. I seriously hate him so much that most of the time I want him to die, and I’ve been saying this since I was little.

[tj-crochets]

So I was thinking about my recent realization that I am ambidextrous and that it's not something everybody can just naturally do (like I thought it was) and I have another "can everyone do this or is my family just weird" question for y'all: Can most people consistently hit the target with ranged weaponry the first time they try it? wait okay unrelated follow up question: can most people (if they do not have an injury or condition that prevents it) sit on the ground cross-legged and lean forward until their torso is like flat on the ground? editing again: I am trying to come up with more things I thought everybody could do but that, in retrospect, might just be my family. High kicks? I guess? I know not everyone can do like head-height kicks, but can most people kick like chest high?