#tw : [arguments]

[writingmyheartsout]

Castle of Glass

(Chapter 1)

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Hi, hello <3

So this is my contribution to the Congressman Bucky fic trope. Kinda same, kinda different, as I wanted to focus on his campaign, or rather, all that comes before he is elected.

My train of thought was simple.

How did he get there? Did he have a whole campaign behind him? Who were these people, and how can I write it as a fanfic? Basically, I wanted to imagine this whole scenario.

Also, yes, Nobody's Soldier and Church are still ongoing, just my brain decided to focus on this one now (ADHD at its best)

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As always, this is cross-posted to Ao3 and Wattpad

CW: Anger, anger issues, arguments, fighting, smoking, curse words, Bucky Barnes is a warning himself, enemies to lovers trope, angst with happy ending, female reader, politics, congress run, lots of talking and thinking, no major warning in this one apart from arguments and curse words.

(chapter is 2k long, wanted to keep it short)

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Chapter - 01

It was right in the middle of the election season for Congress that Bucky came up with the idea, or rather, was pressured into running for the position. 

It wasn't exactly a safe scenario for him, as it could either go terribly wrong or, on the contrary, spectacularly right.

He wasn't known to be a very positive person per se, so in the run for the seat he was in dire need of help.

A lot of it. He wouldn't let this go, he had made a promise after all. A promise to himself, first and foremost, a promise to do it right with what he had at hand.

That's where he decided, with the connections he already had, to hire a whole team. It should have been an easy task, right? It was indeed not.

It was actually the worst thing he had ever done in his life, and he had done a lot of things, very bad things.

On top of that, he had a reputation, something that didn't help with what he was trying to achieve.

That's when you came in, a field expert, someone who had already managed multiple campaigns and won quite a few.

You had been assigned to him, he didn't choose you directly, and it was obvious he didn't want you there, barely speaking to you even though he was required to do so. 

It was the worst part of it all, even if his anger issues were doing much better than in the past, he despised you there. Your confidence, the way you ordered him around and telling him what to do, it was triggering to him in a way, bringing back memories he wanted to put behind him. And he hated every second of it.

And yet that's where you were now, on the building floor you had rented to use as headquarters for the duration of the campaign, in his office, while trying to reason with him yet again.

"Mr. Barnes, we need more interns to hand out flyers, then there's another meeting this week, even though you repeatedly stated that you didn't want to attend any" you said, your tone firmer now with a slight authoritative edge to it, as you read out of the list in your hand.

But as you were about to add more, you heard him mumbling under his breath, causing you to glance up at him with an exasperated look.

He was sitting behind his desk, a few books and files around him, clearly annoyed. His fingers massaging his temple as if he would rather be anywhere else but here.

“Can you stop talking for a moment?” he said, his blue eyes fixed on you with a slightly irritated expression.

'‘There's no need for more for this goddam campaign,’ he then stated with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest as he now leaned back in his chair, avoiding your gaze.

At that, you sighed, rolling your eyes in annoyance as you tried not to start another argument. Not right now, at least.

"Trust me, I'd prefer to be anywhere else than here.." you replied, your tone dry as you now straightened your back, your own arms crossing over your chest as you held your clipboard tighter.

"But I can't just stop asking, believe it or not, your approval is needed with every move I make.." you bit back. 

"You told me to help you, and that's what I'm doing, James. It’s your campaign, after all, " You added, calling him by his name. It wasn't the first time, you were the only one allowed to do so, or at least the only one he seemed to accept it from.

When he looked back at you, a slightly intimidating gaze crossed his eyes as you continued your bickering. He was tired, annoyed and slightly in need of nicotine, even if he wasn't allowed to, as you told him it would be bad for his public image and his health. 

It was clear in every small detail, from his slightly furrowed brows to the hint of tension on his entire face, that he was tense, irritated even. 

"Then help me the way I want " he snapped back at you, his tone harsh as he leaned a bit forward.

"I could have gotten any other person on board, there’s plenty out there, “ he added, his tone slightly mocking, “but no, I’ve been told you were the best, that you knew what you were doing,” he added almost sarcastically. But his tone and mannerism were far from being amused as he nervously looked around, then down at the folders on his desk, before his eyes were back on you.

“But all I hear are complaints and useless requests, do your fucking job...” he grumbled as he ran a hand through his hair “...do what I’m paying you for”

"In case you didn't notice, that's exactly what I'm doing since this nightmare of a campaign started" you reacted, both your arms now along your sides, as your voice raised a bit while your hands clenched tight, still holding that damn clipboard.

"Have you ever wondered why you never had to give an interview or why journalists avoided you? No? That's because I took care of it," you added, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down as you closed your eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of your nose in the process.

You waited a few moments more after that, just to be sure to set your mind straight and not overreact, not this time.

It was an everyday occurrence by now, whenever you had to refer to him, for anything really, you both ended up in a fight.

But especially today, you already had enough as there was still so much to do and you didn’t want to spend another minute being made fun of.

"Alright, alright... never mind…I'll do it myself then.." you then stated, opening your eyes and glancing up at him before exiting his office.

"But start answering your phone, I won't accept another missed call from you"

With that, you closed the door behind you, slamming it hard, walking back to your own office to make some more calls as sponsors waited for no one. 

He didn't move from where he was, his gaze fixed on the door to his office now closed, his jaw slowly relaxing as he slowly let out a breath.

He knew he was being difficult, making your and everyone else's job hell, harder than it needed to be. 

He also knew you were trying your damn best to maintain the campaign afloat while dealing with his stubborn ass. He knew that if it wasn't for you, everything would have collapsed around him sooner rather than later.

But he couldn’t help himself sometimes, he trusted very few people, despite everything, and right now he didn’t trust you.

"Shit..." he muttered, his fingers running through his hair again, tugging at it in his frustration.

He knew that he couldn't just snap back at you as much as he wanted, not after you did so much already. 

The last thing he needed was you walking out on him, he had made that mistake before, you already quit once when he started questioning your work, at the very start of this whole shitshow and he wasn't going to repeat that.

He stayed like that for a few more minutes, until he decided that he needed some fresh air.

Slowly, he got himself to stand up from his chair and exited the room, walking over to where he knew was the way outside.

On the other hand, when you were once safe in your own office, you let out a loud sigh, stopping for a moment against the door before walking over to your desk, not really looking at the chaos that you left on it between documents and half-written statements that you needed to finish..

You were angry, mad, even as this man was probably the most annoying and stubborn you had ever met in your whole career.

To be fair you met a lot of different and weird people, from serial cheaters to straight-up assholes. You've met almost anything that existed on the face of the earth..

In comparison, he was a really good person, and apart from his past, which he was pardoned for, he had an impeccable life.

A lonely one that is, but still, he literally had no dirty secrets that you didn't know of.

And you always knew everything about the people you worked with and for.

Even when you sat down, you kept rethinking about the whole argument while you started busying yourself again, a stack of documents still needing signing, and there was already a list of people you had to call before the day was over.

You sighed at that, looking around for a moment, figuring it out what to do first before starting with the long list of calls.

But then when you looked up, after a minute or so after the first two calls, you noticed him walking down the corridor and out of the building, but you didn't think much of it, as it was a regular occurrence when he was nervous. 

Bucky inhaled deeply, the cool air filling his lungs as he took a look around. 

He wasn't a fan of city life, he couldn't say that New York was his favorite place, or even one that he appreciated. It used to be his home once, but now he felt trapped, to the point he couldn’t breathe sometimes, reminding him of the time he lost in captivity.

Still, it was good to get some air, to try and clear his mind, even if he knew that his thoughts would stay occupied by the same thing that was bothering him.

Bucky leaned against the wall next to the entrance and pulled out a folded cigarette from the pockets of his jacket.

And while he was lost in his own thoughts he lit the cigarette, taking a slow drag as he looked up towards the evening sky.

He had to deal with the campaign - that was something he promised and he was going to do it, but the part he was loathing was you.

You were a constant on and off thing, either he wanted you around or he didn't want to see you anywhere near him. It was honestly frustrating.

Everything really was right now. He couldn’t choose, he couldn’t run away or hide, and he couldn’t fight it. He just had to learn to deal with it, and he didn’t know where to start. 

Bucky took another drag from the cigarette, keeping the smoke in his lungs for a few moments before letting it out, his gaze dropping to the ground as he closed his eyes. 

He was frustrated as hell, and even the cigarette alone couldn't relax him.

He was getting himself worked out over this whole thing, over you, and that made him even more tired. 

He wasn't used to being the one who snapped and couldn't get things done, but here he was, in a damn campaign that he initiated for a promise he made long ago.

Meanwhile, as you were still in your office, you started to feel the heavy weight of the day on your shoulders, your eyes started to hurt the more you looked between the file you were reading and your computer.

You didn't want to go home yet, even if you knew almost too well you had an early rise the next morning, mostly to contact the major news channels.

Then you had a fundraiser to program, and new interns to hire.

This was getting even more complicated than usual, your actual boss not helping you in any way, as he was mostly uninterested in the whole thing and the ex-assassin allegations you had to fight off in order to make it look good in front of the people.

There was a lot in your head, too much to spend another night here.

So you just decided to go home, taking a few documents with you.

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Hello again <3 If you're reading this, thank you.

Kept this one short as i wanted to test it out if people like it or not. so if you like it, feel free to comment or give any advice.

Next chapter will be up soon.

[system-term-storage]

Argumentor

A headmate who either enjoys or is easily front triggered by arguments or debates related to politics, religion, philosophy, basically anything; or, one who specifically fronts to handle these situations or to have these debates/arguments.

They may enjoy purposefully bringing these topics up to spark these debates, or may just enjoy partaking in them when they come up. They may also enjoy causing drama between other people who they know are on opposing sides (by bringing up something related to the topic in the hopes that the others will fight about it).

They may alternatively dislike these situations and debates and rather than fronting to partake in it, will front to keep everyone else from having to deal with it.

[night-minstrel]

I want to have a big argument with someone, like shouting and everything, I hate myself for feeling like that bc it reminds me of my parents arguments, but also bc of said arguments it's the most used in my house method of dealing with negative feelings - to shout and to cause some kind of pain

[rocketbirdie]

meanwhile, in another timeline

[mayra-quijotescx]

Glossing Joss' final moments as "an argument with a neighbor" is also a form of violence considering what actually happened, per his grieving husband's public testimony, is that when they returned to the site where Joss' family home was torched to the ground after two years of threats from neighbors, they found the skull and harness of the dog they lost in that fire set up on display for them, overwhelming the two with grief, and then if that wasn't enough Joss got to spend his final seconds in this life shoving his husband out of his murderer's line of fire. Thinking, while standing in the literal ashes of everything else hate took from him, that he was going to have to watch his husband be murdered too.

[merelylillies]

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ ʚɞ ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶Note: ‘‘Requested post on my thoughts related to this fanart, I hope you like it, sorry it’s so late I was being demolished with work,,

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Fandom: Hoyoverse’s Genshin Impact

Pairing: (Fem.)Reader x Malipo Kinich

Content Warnings: (A little NSFW) Suggestive scenario, Mentions of blood/injuries, Palming, Bandage over mouth? (What is that even called..hello?)

✦・・・・・​​・・・・・​​・・・・・​​・・・・・​​✦ Kinich had the tendency to accept high-level commissions, going out of his way as one of the best adventurers for the harder jobs. In his own words: "If the pay is good, I'll do it.". That often included risky and dangerous missions, which meant his usual calculated outlook would sometimes run more reckless in order to complete the task. However, this was almost always at the expense of his own safety. And if you had anything to say about it, it was way too much.

"What happened this time?" you give him an unimpressed look, medkit in your lap, as you rummage through the half-used plastic case for the usual items. It won't be long until you have to restock on some body bandages, you note. "Nothing. Just got a little roughed up by one of the wild saurians," he sighs casually, as if his arm wasn't in the process of ruining your good bedsheets. "Right," you respond, "And how did that happen?" looking over at him, you see his gaze subsoncisously avoid yours, glancing around the walls of your room. "I got distracted," he states before trying to defend himself matter-of-factly, "I didn't plan well for the number of enemies that ended up cornering me.". You decide not to press any further and just continue rubbing disinfectant on the open wounds, applying a salve to a few burns here and there, and finally wrapping some bandages around his muscles. He pulls away once you're done, his gaze meeting yours for the first time since he came over. He eventually speaks up: "You don't have to lecture me," oh he was not starting that with you right now. "I can take care of myself." that same argument that kept looping everytime you found yourself worried sick about his work. "I've been to the Night Kingdom several times.." uh huh.. "...Something as small as this wouldn't be fatal for me..." or so he says... "..You should be able to trust me. It's not.." Words were going in one ear and out the other. Can he just... "..Seriously, there's no reasonable-" Shut up. Before he can utter out another word, you grab the roll of body bandage once more and pull on the edges, forming a long strand of the gauze, stretching it and placing it on his open mouth. "I was-hmph-?!" His words suddenly muffled. You quickly tie a knot around the back of his head and push him down onto the mattress from his previous sitting position. He goes down without a fight but leverages himself by leaning on his elbows, staring up at you with an unreadable expression, the bandage sitting on his lips without protest. "Enough. I'm sick of having the same conversation every damn time.". You scoff as you notice his eyes rolling at your statement. "Ok then Kinich," you smile to yourself, his own following the twitch of your lips, one of his eyebrows raising in response. Your hand moves out and reaches for the upper hem of his shirt, pulling down the small zipper, no longer obstructed by the usual garment's straps. His chin tips down to follow the movement as your fingers dip through the opening, caressing his collarbone. He audibly swallows, his throat bobbing as you trail further down, dragging the neckline with your movements. Soon, your other hand dips below the lower hem of his shirt, tracing his lower abdomen, drawing abstract shapes on his toned stomach, watching his reactions. That expression of casual arrogance he always wore slowly cracking, giving way to a slight furrow of his brows, his eyelids half shielding his eyes as they dilated to the ministrations on his own torso and flickered back up to you. oh, how good he looks right now. The messy hair, sticking out from a dischieveling battle, the small remnants of dirt and grime on his wounded arms, and the still prominent sweat on his temple from having hurried back here. You feel yourself pause, admiring him from below you, your grin widening almost mockingly. As you reach out further down near the start of his belt, you feel his hips shift, arching himself towards your touch, his eyes maintaining contact with yours all throughout. That same conflicted look on his face before his eyebrows dug a little higher into his forehead, looking absolutely delectable, something akin to desperate. ...maybe this argument wasn't so bad this time.

The palm of your hand teased lower, rocking in a small, controlled motion back and forth. His hips stitched, his head turning to the side. Longer strands of hair fell onto his face, revealing the dark crimson shading his ear. How cute. For someone who prides himself on being so confident, he sure doesn't seem like it now. As a puff of air escapes the bandage with a small moan accompanying it—You're starting to wonder if this was his plan from the beginning.

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Full Image:

[kakushino]

hello can i get a giyuu x reader angst , like where giyuu had an argument with the reader , but it turns out the reader is pregnant? you can add any other plot twist cus i love plot twists thank you !<3

Almost

Tomioka Giyuu x Fem! Reader

He had lost a lot of people in his life by his own making. He refused to lose you too.

Tags: pregnancy, arguments, blood mention, abortion mention (no actual abortion), hurt/comfort Word count: 2k

Masterlist

AN: Hope you enjoy it! I actually had a WIP of an argument + making up before, so I got to revisit it and add the pregnancy spice you asked for hehe~ Huge thanks to my dearest beta reader @glitchtricks94 for helping me clear it up (o゜▽゜)o☆ another huge thanks to @starrierknight for brainstorming with me

Giyuu’s injuries weren’t worse than normal, but that didn’t stop you from fretting over him – especially when he had a gash on his cheek, the same cheek you kissed a week ago when he was leaving for his mission. It made your chest feel tight to see his pretty face marred by demons. Your grandmother was surely rolling in her grave that such a classical beauty was hurt, the thought spurred you on to care for him.

No detail went unnoticed under your eye. He seemed tired, as usual, and a little stressed, as usual too - just a regular morning after slaying demons.

You sat him down at a western style dining table with a medical kit and supplies to clean the cuts with next to you. Your hands shook slightly when the damp cloth wiped away grime and blood, your lips pressed together when a fresh drop of blood oozed from the wound.

“You need to be more careful,” you murmured as you worked, the statement automatic, thoughtless.

Giyuu’s whole body stiffened. “Or what?”

You froze in place, your hand dipping the cloth in warm water. This was a new tone of his – a new way words could cut you if he wanted you to hurt: it was rough, serrated, mean. “What?”

He rolled his shoulders back a little, rearing for a fight. “You heard me the first time.”

You clenched your hand, leaving the rag in the water, and turned to fully face him. “Why are you so defensive? I meant no harm,” you replied, trying to calm the storm before it fully set in.

He stood abruptly, nearly knocking the chair he had sat in over. The look he shot you sent your heart galloping in your chest, from fear or indignation, you didn’t know. “You’ve done enough. Leave me be.”

Did he like you like this? Was the hurt in your eyes enough? That was – did he like the way it glinted, the way it caught the light? Hours upon hours spent on making your suffering pretty, and perhaps now it would pay off. He could cut you down into something pretty if he wanted to, and maybe you would let him.

Before he could walk away, before he could twist the rusty blade, you rose from your seat, “I have done nothing to warrant this tone with me, Tomioka Giyuu. Now tell me-“

"Stop bothering me," he cut you off, heading towards the door.

A violent whirlpool of emotion threatened to drown you, and for once, you let go. “You- you oaf! I can’t stand you being like this! What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect,” he snapped, voice like a viper and words just as stinging. “Or at least it would be if I didn’t have you nagging me every time. I’ve been through this enough to know what to do with myself. Unlike you who sits here all pretty and safe and fat, ready to wrap a bandage and call it a day.”

You flinched, for the first time in your husband’s presence, tears springing from your eyes, which you rapidly blinked away. What have I ever done to deserve this? You had waited on your hands and knees for this man every time he’d come home battered and bruised and broken and put him back together, without complaining, with love. This was what you got in return for your devotion? Pretty and useless. That’s what he basically called you.

Your throat tightened. You hardly had the energy to respond so you turned away and just… left. You couldn’t continue listening to Giyuu when he sounded so much like… like Shinazugawa. Whatever was bothering him best be left alone to cool off before you could talk about it.

You nodded to yourself as you packed an overnight bag. Some time apart would be good for you both. You knew he wouldn’t be sent out on a mission for a few days again, since he just returned from a longer stint, so you would come back tomorrow and try to resolve it then.

It was time for a check-up with a midwife anyway.

He had really said all that.

And you left.

Your eyes filled with tears, and you left, as you should. He had treated you like garbage.

There was no going back, no taking back his idiocy, no swallowing back his words.

‘Let's stop fighting’ was at the tip of his tongue. ‘Come here and let me hug you’ nearly spilled from his lips. ‘I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry’ choked him up as you walked away.

He knew you were right. You did nothing wrong.

He felt nothing.

He was worth nothing.

Giyuu picked up the shards of his heart up and finished cleaning up his wounds. A short bath later, he walked into the kitchen to find food already made for him, now long gone cold. It just reminded him how much he butchered his relationship by what – stress and tiredness? A demon taunting him right before its death? If so little shook him up, did he even deserve to be with you?

A sharp pain pierced his heart at the thought of leaving you. His selfishness truly knew no bounds, hurting you and putting you in danger for being a Hashira’s partner yet wanting you to remain by his side.

After eating his portion, he made tea and waited to see if you would join him. There was no movement in the house at all; were you in your shared bedroom, laying in bed as you were used to when upset? He would give you time to cool off, give himself time to breathe, and then he would approach you with a clearer head. He needed to apologize.

One hour. Two hours.

Had he angered you so much that you wouldn’t come out? Your spats had never lasted this long.

The tea had long grown cold, but Giyuu couldn’t bring himself to make more. There were no sounds coming from the house.

Were you even here?

The thought jolted him from his seat, quickly walking to your shared bedroom.

“Love?”

Nothing.

“I’m coming in.”

He somehow expected it, though he’d hoped against it. You weren’t there.

Already turning to check all other rooms, he called out your name. His pace was brisk, his throat starting to clog up with a familiar emotion. Claws of anxiety sunk into his stomach, his heart beat like a drum, his lungs struggled to take in air. You weren’t there.

Where were you?

He ran through the whole estate and back two times but came up with no clue as to where you were. Panic mounted, crawling up his spine like a spider he couldn’t shake away.

Giyuu slammed the gate of his home open, very nearly running into his elderly neighbour.

She was hardly phased, though confused by his frazzled visage. “Tomioka-san? What’s got you in such a hurry, young boy?”

“Have you seen my wife?!” he’d never been as rude as he was now, but you were gone so what was he supposed to do?

“Your wife? Oh, that’s right, I saw her. If I recall, she was on her visit… hmm, who was she going to visit?” his neighbour mused. Giyuu waited with all the patience Urokodaki beat into him, that was – quite impatiently. “Oh right! A midwife! I was very surprised when-“

He stopped listening, or rather, he stopped hearing anything going on around him. A midwife? A midwife was a profession with a very specific set of skills for a very specific group of people… Did that mean-?

“Isotani-san,” Giyuu interrupted, breathless, eyes wide with surprise. “Are you saying my wife is pregnant?”

She squinted at him, “You didn’t know?”

It felt as if lightning came from clear skies and struck him. Every nerve itched with some kind of energy telling him to move.

He later vaguely remembered asking his neighbour for the direction you left in, but at the time, he saw nothing, and felt everything all at once.

Were you going to… terminate it? Were you going to tell the midwife, and would she terminate it? Was the midwife going to terminate it and help you move on? Would you move on without him?

Thoughts racing, heart galloping, Giyuu felt feverish. He stumbled back, deaf to his neighbour’s concerned questions as he turned the way you had left just hours ago. One foot in front of the other, a step by step, getting faster with each meter he passed until he was running nearly as fast as Uzui, desperation spurring him on.

Kanzaburo flew overhead, and when he cleared the village bounds, he called out to get the crow to lead him to you.

Time was of the essence. He may have botched his life, but he was too selfish to let go of you. He wanted, no- needed to get you back. You were his love, his soul, his home. He wouldn’t be able to go on if you left.

He felt crazed, desperate, as he ran.

Giyuu would have been faster had he not have to follow Kanzaburo but he wouldn’t be able to find you alone. He felt as if he was racing against the time. Any minute now, you would be in a the midwife’s home, waiting for the release from his clutches; any second now, you would sever the only tactile link you had to him – your baby.

His baby.

He swore, his mind supplementing him with your argument. It had been all his fault, he’d just lashed out because of nothing, like a toddler throwing a tantrum. How childish he’d been – and he was supposed to be a father? No, he wanted to be a father. He’d fix himself and he’d support you and he’d even carry you your whole pregnancy, so you didn’t have to walk. He’d learn to cook more than the basics to feed you and your baby.

Please, let me be in time.

Then he saw you.

The whole world seemingly froze, grey and empty save for you.

You were a pearl amongst rocks, still as beautiful as the first day he saw you, as beautiful as you were on your wedding day.

Giyuu didn’t stop, even as you turned to him in surprise when he called your name. He didn’t stop until he had you in a soul-crushing hug, tight and near bruising – one he immediately eased up on, since he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Calm down, Giyuu! What’s going on?”

“D-don’t-“ he stumbled over his words, still frantic and breathing heavily, “don’t get rid of it!”

You were confused, “Get rid of what?”

His hands were heavy clutching onto your clothes, his frame nearly hanging onto you. “Our – our child,” he gasped out. “Isotani-san told me you were- she told me you were pregnant.” His words came out in a rush, eyes wide as he stared at you, his pupils darted all over your face for a sign of – of anything, be it forgiveness, anger, sadness, anything.

Looking at him in such a state, near quivering in his spot, you felt powerful. Giyuu was at your mercy for once. You could topple him as easily as a sandcastle, crush him under your boot and grind down to juice him of all that made him who he was. It made you realize you held just as much power over him as he did over you. Oddly, you felt reassured - of his love, of your love, of the relationship. 

Heart hammering in your chest, cheeks filling with warmth, the adoration you carried in your heart spilled over and pooled in your stomach. You hungered for more of this power, positively starved to sink your teeth into him and drain him.

But that could wait.

“I am indeed pregnant,” you confirmed, your hands resting on his arms, thumbs stroking soothing lines over his muscles. You paused, letting the seconds painfully stretch out, “I’m not terminating the pregnancy.”

His whole being sagged with relief. Giyuu fell to his knees in slow motion, his hands sliding down your yukata to rest over your hips, now clutching the fabric there with a weak grip. “Thank gods…” he rasped out, his breathing stuttered as if holding back sobs. “Please, love, let’s not- I apologize – I apologize for everything. I shouldn’t have lashed out. I was wrong…”

His impossibly blue eyes met yours, the surface glistening with unshed tears, his guilt bitter but his plea tasting sweet on your tongue. Saliva gathered in your mouth, wanting more.

Did that make you a bad person?

“You dismissed my concern,” you stated, fighting back any expression wanting to take over your face. “You said I nag you. You called me useless.” And pretty, your mind supplied. He’d also called you fat, so there was that. “I didn’t deserve that.”

Giyuu’s lips were downturned, “You didn’t. I was an oaf.” His admission did nothing to soothe the ache he’d given you. “I’m willing to take whatever punishment you deem worthy of my misdeeds.” He let go of your yukata, smoothing over the wrinkles he made. He didn’t know what to do with himself, trying not to fidget as you rolled his actions and words in your mind.

“There will be no punishment,” you told him. If possible, he became even more tense, the need for absolution great. Perhaps no punishment would be a punishment of itself. “But don’t think you’re entirely forgiven. I accept your apology; you however have to make up for it your own way.” You studied his earnest expression, brows slightly furrowed as he started thinking about ways to win you back. It shouldn’t be too hard. He did it once, he could do it again.

Giyuu slowly stood up, taking your hands in his. “I won’t disappoint you, love,” he said resolutely, kissing your fingertips softly. He adored you, with his whole heart, mind and body.

Everything would work out – just like the ice always melts and clouds disperse, a typhoon passes and the sea calms.

“If you pull this act again, I’m leaving.” You glared at him for a second to get your point across. Giyuu nodded and pulled you in for a sweet kiss.

He almost lost you and he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

Thanks for reading! Reblog or comment if you liked it :3

Networks: @enchantedforest-network @themovingcastlez

[son-of-avraham]

"Antisemitism is a meaningless phrase!" to you. To me, it is still a word that defines a hatred and scorn of jews.

If it surprises you so much that jew hatred is an ancient and worldwide bigotry that you stop believing in the meaning of calling it out... That says something, but it says nothing about the words we use to describe jew hatred.

[zukosdualdao]

what i hate about the insistence that it was wrong for zuko in particular not to say anything to azula saying how their mother liked zuko better and thought she was a monster is what the hell is he supposed to say to that?

ursa “liking zuko better” looked like ursa protecting zuko from azula targeting him as the family scapegoat. it’s a rationalization azula gives herself so she doesn’t have to contend with the fact that ursa had good reason to be concerned about her behavior and wanted to help her but couldn’t, due to ozai’s influence.

what exactly is zuko supposed to say to that? disparage his (believed to be dead) mother, who was just trying to look out for him and he loves? absorb the blame and act like the things azula has done and continues to do don’t hurt him?

also, once again, hypocrisy. the cruelest thing he says to her in this moment is that she finds herself to be so perfect, which is true. she literally calls him pathetic right before that. why should he be comforting her?

[winterwonderl]

plural is objectively pro endogenic and if you use ''plural'' and claim endogenics aren't ''plural''/it's a ''CDD term'' you can kindly fuck off

extra note: if you say you can't be multiple people without having DID/OSDD you can kindly fuck off!! a lot of people identify as ''multiple people'' without even being systems!! keep that in mind

[feralrabbitboy]

wait hold on I went on twitter for 4 seconds and people are arguing abt the fact that will toledo (who got diagnosed with long covid and has had to put part of his life on hold for years in the aftermath of the sickness) wants people to wear masks so that they don't get easily avoidable, transferrable and life threatening diseases??? are??? do?? are you guys ok?? are new csh fans so young that they don't remember when EVERYONE had to wear masks to shows??? do they not remember the world on lockdown?? ?it was only 5 years ago?? I'm not ever going on twitter again

[quicksilversnails]

The Princess contains death within her multitudes, and no vessels embody death and the fear that it inspires more strongly than the Nightmare and Moment of Clarity.

It's a major theme to her route, from how you get to it in the first place - ruminating in fear of what she could be until her presence is enough to make you die of fright - to the Paranoid's chant constantly reminding you of your (perceived) mortality, to her goal to make the world afraid in the same way that she makes you afraid.

Because of the Nightmare's close connection to death, I think there's a lot of interesting comparisons to be drawn between her and the Narrator. I'm writing this post to explore some of their connections and also to spread my vision (TLDR they are foils. To me.)

As we know, the Narrator is characterized by His fear of death, both by His own admission...

...and by the Shifting Mound:

Meanwhile, the Nightmare is defined by the fear she brings, which she acknowledges and seems to relish in:

I think it's noteworthy that the Nightmare wants to inflict this fear onto the world as a whole, unlike many other Princesses who are mainly just focused on you and/or her own personal freedom.

This focus on the world specifically positions her ideology in direct opposition to the Narrator's. The Nightmare wants a world of terror, while the Narrator wants a world void of terror. The Nightmare believes that experiencing fear and suffering is necessary to make the good times meaningful, while the Narrator thinks goodness is self-evident, with forgetting it all being core to the structure of His ideal world.

To accept the Nightmare's vision for the world and leave with her is described as overcoming a fear of the unknown by Shifty:

…and this makes sense - what bigger unknown is there than death? But the Narrator wouldn't see this as something to be celebrated.

To the Narrator, the unknown is always worse than the known. To Him, death is unknowable, uncontrollable, chaotic, horrifying. The cowardly thing to do is accept the unknown, while the heroic thing to do is to fight for something better. This "something better", in His eyes, being the Known: defined by its deterministic, eternally repeating pattern.

Getting back to the Nightmare herself, I think it's telling how much the Narrator HATES her, even more intensely than the average vessel. A great example of this happens just before leaving the cabin with the blade:

Like, this is big for the Narrator! In most routes He goes out of His way to distinguish slaying from killing, but here, His desire to "do things right" is overtaken by the need to see her DEAD.

Also, if you waste the opportunity by not taking the blade with you in the first place, He gets a stiff drink for himself lol

(afaik this is one of only 3 times that he gets a drink… not a common occurrence)

He also briefly seems afraid of Nightmare in her first appearance:

Tbh the screenshot doesn’t do justice to the uncertainty and fear in Jonny's delivery. It's noteworthy to me because the Princess takes on plenty of scary and immediately life-threatening forms throughout the game, but the Narrator usually reacts to the sight of those horrors with indifference or mild indignation, not terror. The Nightmare specifically inspires fear in Him.

And this all comes to a head when she removes her mask, bearing the contents of her heart for you to witness… and he completely gives up.

The sequence leading to the Moment of Clarity is one of the most abstract in the game, and there are plenty of abstract sequences in this game lol. While there are multiple ways to interpret it (and my own interpretation of it has changed many times over time), I do still want to talk about it here because it's so significant to both Nightmare and Narrator's characters.

In my mind, the key to interpreting it is in the inverted linework, which implies that we're seeing things from the Princess' perspective, reflected in the Narrator describing the Princess' experience.

Then, "the complete reality of your existence" refers to the complete reality of the Princess' existence: the capacity to change. And the Nightmare, in all her self-loathing, reveals the darkest, most horrific possibilities of that change. Change as something that hurts everything it touches. As something agonizing to experience and traumatizing to witness. As something that can tear you from the ones you love at any moment, as something that leaves you worse than where you started, as something the world would be better off without.

It all sounds a lot like how the Narrator sees change, doesn't it? "Your existence hurts them" in particular stands out to me as something the Narrator, or the cabin, would say to her directly; the sort of thing she's likely had repeated to her over and over and over throughout her isolation, until deep in her heart she begins to believe it.

The tragic irony of it is that so much of the Princess' suffering is specifically at the hands of the Narrator's construct, and yet she comes to view it as inherent to her own existence. He has convinced her of her own irredeemability. The worms have found their orifices.

(Sidenote but it's neat how the Narrator is occasionally associated with worms. Tower calls Him a "shrivelling little worm stretched beyond its limits", and P&tD's End of Everything poem describes how "the worm in your heart came for us"… which makes this visualization hit that much harder as a representation of the Princess' experience.)

All of this raw emotional vulnerability from the Nightmare seems to stand in total contrast to the Narrator, who withholds himself from you emotionally throughout the game, preventing you from meaningfully connecting with him.

But there's also something about how Nightmare sharing her heart parallels Smitten sharing his heart in the lead-up to HEA. Because HEA Smitten and the Narrator have many parallels of their own, don't they?

All three make some kind of painful sacrifice, revealing a deep vulnerability, in order to force their perspective onto those who experience it. The original Creator goes through death itself - his greatest fear - and inflicts an eternal torment onto his Echoes in order to create His better world, regardless of whether the people of His world would actually want that. The Smitten rips out his heart and calls it a sacrifice in order to give the Princess everything she "doesn't know she wants". The Nightmare takes off her mask, revealing the full weight of her suffering, in order to be let out (not only from the cabin but from her abandonment, from being misunderstood), even if doing so crushes you.

In describing the complete reality of her existence, The Narrator bears witness to everything He'd woven into her, and all the hatred He taught her to feel towards herself. He witnesses the darkest horrors of change, the agony He was so terrified of, and how she experiences all that same agony. And in His creation, the thing He hates and fears more than anything, He also sees a reflection of Himself.

Of course it breaks Him.

If the Nightmare embodies the fear of death, the Moment of Clarity embodies Death itself. If the Nightmare is possibility, MOC is inevitability. If the Nightmare is a dying star, MOC is a black hole.

Like how the Narrator and HEA Smitten become echoes of their original desire, MOC becomes an echo of Nightmare's desires. She is emaciated, her face an empty void. You can't speak to her anymore, can barely engage with her at all. She's more of a memory than a person, and so are you. She has molded you into the tool that she needs, like how the Echo molded TLQ & the Princess into their designated roles, how He also molded Himself into your guide. Time has eroded everything else, but still she remains, now singular in her purpose.

Where the Narrator and the people outside were once consumed by thoughts of oblivion, so too are the voices. They each attempt to grapple with the inevitable in their own ways. They challenge her, run from her, bargain with her, submit to her, romanticize her, philosophize over her, become numb to her.

But you cannot escape from death, from something that only gets closer, and closer, and closer, and closer.

There is no other ending here. There is nothing to do but accept her.

There's something about how TSM describes her as wise, in stark contrast to how she calls the Narrator deluded. I didn't really know what to make of that descriptor when it first got changed, but viewing MOC as death made it click for me, and now it's one of my favourite vessel descriptions.

Where the Narrator wants to change the inevitable, MOC accepts and embraces it. If all the vessels are a reflection of some aspect of the Shifting Mound, MOC reflects the divine wisdom Shifty holds towards death, as well as the inevitability of Shifty herself - the inevitable destination where every route ends, who gently takes the vessels as life leaves their eyes, who always asks for you not to mourn them. (She also reflects all the arms)

....So after all of this, what are we left with? What does all this say about the Narrator and Nightmare?

Well, they're both deeply tied to death and fear. They're diametrically opposed in their beliefs, yet in many ways, they're exactly the same. They're both victims of a cruel world, who then become cruel to others, while also becoming cruel to themselves. They bend you and the world to their will while turning themselves into echoes of what they were.

They're such incredible foils. They're everything to me

[jay72664]

We’ll talk in the morning

TW: Drunkness, and mentioned argument, no detail is gone into.

The ticking minute hand on the clock only furthered Chuuya’s agitation, and his worry.

Dazai had been gone all day because of a stupid fight, a fight Dazai himself was responsible for!

Now he was throwing a fit, and ignoring Chuuya’s calls.

A quick glance at the clock told him it was three in the morning.

Where was he?

Chuuya tried calling again, but there was no answer, just the ringing of the phone echoing throw the silent apartment.

He didn’t know what to do, if he left; Dazai might come back while he was gone, and if he stayed Dazai might die somewhere, it was driving him crazy.

Staying home turned out to be the right choice though, because after another thirty minutes, he saw a car pull into the driveway; Dazai’s car, it was a miracle he hadn’t wrecked it.

Chuuya stood up and crossed his arms, unable to hide his anger, he clenched his jaw and made his way to the front door.

He could hear Dazai struggling to open the door, and could instantly tell why when the smell of cheap alcohol hit his senses, causing him to scrunch up his nose.

“Really? You had me worried sick because you felt like getting wasted?” the ginger snapped, but upon not getting a reply from the brunette he sighed and softened.

“You’re really drunk, huh? Let’s get you to bed.” He made his way over to his husband, swinging Dazai’s arm over his shoulder, and his own around Dazai’s waist and led him to their bedroom.

The taller man leaned heavily against him, barely able to walk at all, how had he managed to get home in one piece?

Chuuya set him gently on the bed, crouching down to remove his shoes, when he got up Dazai was staring at him, and mumbled a, “sorry.”

The brunette could be apologizing for a million different things, but Chuuya decided to assume it was for picking a fight this morning, and replied, “we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

He helped him lie back, and before Chuuya could even think about going and changing, Dazai had pulled him into the bed.

Chuuya was going to object, but noting the slight tremors in his husband’s body, he decided sleeping in his clothes would be okay just for tonight.

He carefully maneuvered to turn out the light, before getting more comfortable, his arms coming around the other man, gently stroking his back and hair.

“Don’t leave,” Dazai mumbled, nuzzling into his neck.

“I won’t,” Chuuya promised softly, knowing he was likely in another world, a world his mind had made.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the brunettes forehead before closing his eyes.

They’d talk in the morning.

[indecisiveavocado]

every single time i try

me: i should stop hanging out in such jewish places, especially online. let's see. *opens door* right wing: we hate you because you support queer rights left wing, sharpening knife: we hate you because you don't trust us not to kill us the first chance we get, just because we have for 2,300 years. 'centrists': back up one sec, what's a pogrom, who is this kid kfir, and what do you mean antisemitism didn't start and end with hitler? me: *closes door* nope, staying on jumblr.

[daxsystxrs]

..KINNDDA SPOILERS FOR TBOB? dippers dream :3

"Recurring nightmares about overhearing a fight between his parents he wasn't supposed to hear. Why do you think they were in such a rush to get the kids out of the door for the summer?"

[newkatzkafe2023]

WukongVerse Incorrect quotes #39 This trend got dangerous 😬

Ok, so you decided to ask your monkey men which would be best for dinner, Church chicken or Popeyes and now this is happening.......

(Lmk & NR Wukong) We listen, and we don't judge

(Lmk Wukong) Popeyes biscuit is dryer then a woman's privates, when a guy says he's under 5'10🤨

(NR Wukong) B*tch I will stab you😠

(Lmk & NR Wukong) We listen, and we don't judge

(NR Wukong) Don't nobody in a church's kitchen speak English😑

(Lmk Wukong) that is racist!🤯

(MKR Wukong) But it's true though😒

(Lmk & NR Wukong) We listen and we don't judge

(Lmk Wukong) People go to Popeyes for the chicken and stay for the fight😈

(NR Wukong) I mean b*tch we can get active right now👿

(Netflix Wukong) Yo Chill guys😥

(Lmk & NR Wukong) We listen, and we don't judge

(NR Wukong)( Patronizing) Banquet makes better Fried chicken than church😊

(Lmk Wukong)(PISSED OFF) OK SEE NOW B*TCH YOU GOT ME F*CKED UP!!!!!🤬🤬🤬🤬

(NR Wukong)(PISSED AND PREVOKED) I WILL CHOKE YOU WITH A BISCUIT YOU STUPID B*TCH!!!!!🤬🤬🤬🤬

As the shouting match continues

(Y/N)(Shocked)😲

(D.O & Netflix Wukong)(Uncomfortable)😥🫣

(MKR & HIB Wukong)(Unbothered in Chinese)😑😒

(BMW Wukong)(Trying not to laugh)🤭😂

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG B*TCH!!!!!😜