#who cannot remember anything in the world except the one they love

[petrichara]

If I were on my deathbed with enough strength to write one word it would be your name

[alluralater]

i cannot get this out of my mind so i’m going to just get it out here. i’m thinking about a time i was hanging out with a casual hookup and it was our first time seeing each other actually. we’d matched on tinder and sent maybe 30 messages back and forth in the span of a half hour before i was out the door and walking through the city at 4 in the morning. insomnia had gotten the better of me, as had my need for the warmth of someone underneath me, in me. it was a quiet night. a rapid pace saturday evening in late winter had died down to this— silence, and my footsteps echoing up the lengths of sidewalk. it was the only thing reminding me that the world was at some point full of people at all. the memory of them, at least.

they were kind when i arrived. chivalrous, sweet. we made our way up to their apartment where they introduced me to their coworker who drunkenly waved hello to me from a horizontal position on the couch. i made light conversation. the kind that i am good at. easy, simple, normal. then onto the tour. classic architecture, slanting glass windows across the entire south wall. i felt a stab of envy. god i’d love to take over this lease someday. after a few minutes shown around the large apartment i was guided with a hand to the small of my back to their bedroom. fucking huge, of course. doing away with my shoes and my jacket, we sat on their bed talking. i’m not sure what we spoke about anymore, i suppose my memory isn’t very kind to me these days. i do remember that we were eventually laying down, listening to something they’d suggested. on my back, i was staring up at the ceiling. their bed was comfortable. the kind that one sinks into. like a cloud. my bed is not like this. i shift around and talk throughout listening. animatedly gesturing with both hands, the sleeves of my shirt falling above my elbows.

they are on their side, watching me talk, curious what i think of it all. i see them in my peripherals, catching every change in my expression as i listen intently. “you’re really pretty.” it was such a simple set of words yet my cheeks warmed and i could not hold back the smile which overtook my lips, nor could i avoid the urge to roll my eyes. “thank you,” i said with a laugh. their response is lost to me now, eroding images in my mind, broken chatters of sound that i can only hear on occasion when i am lying awake at night perched between wakefulness and sleep.

we are pressed together, their arm around me after they asked how i felt about cuddling. “i don’t do it often.” again, a sweet thought nonetheless. very sweet. how could i have rejected such a saccharine offer? i am huddled in the warmth of their body. how long had it been since i’d done this with anyone before having sex, as something other than given aftercare? months? years, maybe? they are smelling my hair and pulling me closer. this feels much too good. first this bed of sandman himself and now i was being held in each of the soft places my body had seemingly been yearning for in between bouts of exhaustion. vulnerable connection. another stolen comfort. it was of course, my first reaction upon realizing, to try and guide the conversation to anything other than how well we get on with one another. i spoke passionately now, leaning slightly away from their embrace enough to look about the room as i talked. without warning and at the height of my commentary, they suddenly leaned in and kissed me. my eyes widened in shock. one moment i’d been talking and the next, i was being kissed. silenced in an instant. whatever warmth i had felt in their arms, i felt here too, in the heated kiss which had my eyes fluttering closed and softening my lips to theirs.

when they pulled away i felt dazed, blinking repeatedly until finally certain of my whereabouts. i had always enjoyed kisses which were taken from me rather than asked of me. in times least excepted those kisses are even better, endlessly favored. the rest is a blur. their arm encircling my waist and pulling me to my back underneath them. our clothes coming off one piece at a time and littering the bed along with the surrounding floor. they gently removed each of the rings from my fingers, that i remember. another stolen comfort. such as it was to indulge the smile on my face as they did so.

another blur of kissing like we were mad with need, giggling at times before then ravenous. a moan falling from their mouth as my tongue claimed their neck. soft and slick and warm. and then of course, in almost no time at all, the head of their strap was positioned at my entrance. “i don’t know if i can take that,” i admitted breathlessly. not only was i having the life kissed from my body only seconds ago, i was about to be filled by an undoubtedly large cock. my body was nearly drunk on sensation. “you can take it, baby.” the confidence in their voice melted my reservations. i would take it, or find a way. they knew how wet i was already, having dragged the head of their strap over my clit just seconds ago to spread my slickness while i watched.

“i can take—” again, they acted before i was quite ready. in one swift motion they entered and filled me. a sharp gasp was drawn into my swollen lips. “how does that feel?” their inquisition to my comfort was less of a genuine question and more an observation of my arched back and brows drawn together, my nails digging into their shoulder. “so full,” i replied. they didn’t dare move yet, which was smart. as wet as i was, i was still being stretched to a point of minor discomfort. but god, it felt good. so fucking good. they leaned down, bringing their lips again to mine, careful not to move too suddenly. a single sweep of their tongue across my bottom lip and i was moaning into their mouth— whining actually —as i adjusted to them. my history of eagerness failed me none tonight. i rocked my hips gently backward then forward, sliding my tongue into their mouth at the same time and willing my body to relax enough that i could take it the way i wanted. i was desperate for more. more more more. i needed it, and they obliged. they kissed me hard once, trailing their lips down my jaw and settling against my pulse point. their free hand caught the bend of my knee and they brought my leg up high to their side. fucking christ they’re even deeper now. my eyes rolled back as i felt them slide in another impossible fraction of length. there couldn’t possibly be any oxygen left in my lungs at this point.

“that pussy feels perfect around me,” they murmured into my throat. it was all i could do to whine my agreement and nod. could i think? should i be thinking? in. sobbing moan. out. “you need to be quiet, babygirl.” i couldn’t think but i was nodding once again. desperate to oblige. it was then, challenging their own request to my will, that their back straightened. perpendicular to my body, cock sunk inside me, hands taking my legs to lay in the dips of their waist, they began fucking me. hard. my hand shot out above my head, holding onto the headboard from below. i couldn’t help it. no, i truly could not help it that my moans flew from my throat like uncontrolled motion, kinetic. forced through me with stroke after unyielding stroke. “god you’re so pretty, baby” the lowness in their appreciative tone shook loose my last efforts to stifle my sounds. my eyes barely open, unfocused. lips dragging in a single breath and them guiding out a harsh sobbing sound “oh my god oh my god fuck that’s so—” their hand dropping one of my legs then appearing around my mouth while they kept up with those consistently deep thrusts. “you’re going to wake up my guest. i need you quiet.” fucking into me deeper like every stroke was a punishment i earned and deserved. they only slowed for a moment to ask me if that was alright, their hand on my mouth. god how fucked up i am to have been nodding and groaning into their palm like a drunken slut before they’d even gotten all the words out. high pitched yearning. “oh so you’re that kind of girl, huh?” fucking me deeper while my eyes rolled back and their fingers gripped my jaw hard. “i like that.”

harder now. harder. faster. god i was getting close. so close. muffled whines. wet pussy. schlk schlk schlk. fucking god, fucking christ i’m gonna— everything stops. “not yet. i want you on top riding. come here.” removing their hand from my mouth and jaw, i knew my lips were deep red, swollen. my jaw might end up bruised. the possibility was slim but a light thrill tingled in those spots at the idea. my head was swimming. no real thoughts at all. they pulled out of me, replacing that fullness with a monstrous void. fucking christ it almost hurt. panting breaths. taking my hands and pulling me up to my knees, kissing me deeply. fuck it was almost romantic the way they held me. stolen comforts were in abundance tonight. that slippery warm strap pressed to my stomach between us made me wonder how on earth i was able to take the whole thing just moments ago. before i could ponder the question for long, they were pulling away from my lips all too soon and moving to their back. “come here.” how was i more breathless now than before. god i felt so— delicate. what a horrid strange way to feel. vulnerable. i hated it. but there i was, straddling their hips and pressing my palm to their sternum, using my other hand to guide their cock into me on a deeply held breath in spite of it all. “you’re gorgeous.” pulling their legs up to bend at the knee. oh fuck. i realized with their head pushing past my entrance that they had no real intention of letting me ride them. no wait i wasn’t ready to take them at this angle so deep. i wasn’t read— “show me how pretty girls take it.” fuck. hands on my hips and burying their cock inside me again without warning. well maybe that was the warning. brief and unfair, but a warning nonetheless.

i didn’t have time to find positioning for my hands. suddenly leaning up to compensate for the depth of them in me, hands at my sides, then holding my tits, rolling my nipples. god they just wouldn’t stop. fucking me harder and deeper and occasionally running their hands from my hips up to my waist, letting me bounce up and down on their length while they groped at me in every soft spot. i’d been whimpering along with every upward arc of their hips but now i was hardly able to do anything but babble on with my stupid fucking “yes yes yes oh fuck” as if my expansive vocabulary only held a collection of three words. maybe six. “don’t stop. please don’t stop oh fuck yes” like a stupid fucking slut. and here was this fucking person underneath me, hands on my hips forcing me down on their cock in one swift motion. holding me there. i was getting pissed off now. i could feel my features blooming with flushed hues of pink frustration and then embarrassment. eager and fucking stupid. needy. “tell me what you want and i’ll give it to you.” they were having fun with me. toying with me. i clenched my jaw and my fists. “come on, baby.” a few lazy thrusts in me to coax. fuck. i had to shut my eyes for a moment and summon a deep breath. suffice it to say, i didn’t feel particularly strong of will at this time or in this position. “i want you to keep fucking me.” “how”

okay this was too much. tight jaw and pussy clenching. that patience broke. leaning forward and taking them by the throat. one hand by their head, my lips hovering over theirs. feeling them sink farther into me but paying the sensation no mind. “pump your cock into me just like this or you can watch me put my clothes on and leave.” oh that did the trick. a shocked look of excitement passing over their face quickly followed by a “whatever you say, baby.” hands grasping my hips tighter and spreading their legs a bit wider. wait maybe i shouldn’t have— “oh FUCK.” rutting into me recklessly, wildly from below. oh no no no no no it felt so good so good too good. my grip on their throat loosened, hand falling to the bed, now holding myself up on my braced arms. “where’s that attitude, huh?” warm breath on my lips. they were moving too quickly for a thorough kiss but this would have to do. messy. messy moaning against their lips and into their mouth. stupid fucking high pitch in my voice again because i just couldn’t help it. they shouldn’t know how easily they get me all the way there. stupidly hot. i wanted it. i wanted more. fluidly rocking my hips, matching pace. forcefully taking their jaw in my hand, turning their head to the side and licking a trail from the underside of their jaw to their ear. something was coiling in my veins, ready to burst forth in the most unruly of displays. my tits pressed to their chest when they wrapped an arm around my back and held me tight to their body. moaning and laughing directly in their ear, tongue out. feeling their fingers dig into my waist on either side. god i was so far gone. they’re hitting my g spot. hitting my g spot. hitting it right there right there right there so fucking full so fucking wet i’m gonna cum i’m gonna cum i’m gonna— “i’m gonna fucking cummohmygodimgunnacum” stupid and slurred incoherent whining. holding me tight tight tighter. harsh demand vibrating in their chest. practically growling. “then fucking do it. cum.” and like the stupid slut i am, crying and sobbing out my moans of confirmation—

i came.

[stevie-petey]

dibs

“Jinx!” Again, they say this at the same time. They both groan, and without any other words, they jump into an intense game of rock, paper, scissors.  “One, two, three!” Steve holds out a rock, Robin does as well, and the two teens almost strangle one another.  They try again, this time they both land on paper, and Robin throws her head back in frustration. “I’m not good at math, but this cannot be statistically possible.”

Summary: do the laws of dibs still apply if steve and robin see you at the same time ???

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 1.4k

Before you swing in: this is for my beloved val (@southelroy), and i was so excited to try my hand at writing robin and steve together <3 this is a very silly fic, not at all meant to be realistic or serious, and it isnt proofread so pls enjoy n beware !

-

According to the ancient rules of “dibs”, the first person who sees the desired one has the rightful claim of dibs. Anyone else present during this time must obey this sacred rule, respecting the fact that the other has laid claim first. It’s an old, ancient tradition, held up for centuries through faithful friendships. 

It’s a solid system, really.

Except Steve and Robin see you walk into Family Video on the same day, at the same time, together. 

You walk in, hair slightly wet from the rain and your eyes bright, and smile at the two of them shyly. Setting down your umbrella, you unbutton your raincoat and look around the store. “Sorry, is it okay if I hide out in here for a bit? My umbrella broke and I really don’t feel like catching a cold.”

Steve and Robin stare at you, wide eyed and in shock. They’ve never seen you before, they surely would’ve remembered your face if they had, and their brains short circuit simultaneously. 

When they don’t say anything, you cautiously walk up to the counter and laugh nervously. “Uh, hello? I can leave, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

“No!” Steve shouts, panicked that the word “leave” has left your very pretty and pink mouth. When you flinch at his raised voice, he quickly clears his throat and lowers his voice. “I–uh, I mean… No, no. You can stay–please! I mean, if you don’t mind, ‘cause, ya know, it’s raining–”

“What my coworker here is trying to say is that you can definitely stay.” Robin interrupts, admiring the way the raindrops in your hair seem to form a halo. “In fact, why don’t you have a look around? We have plenty of movies.”

You smile at Robin, which she practically melts seeing. “Thanks, you guys are lifesavers. I’m here visiting my cousin, and he said I should stop by anyways.”

“What, do we know him?” Steve asks, finally finding his voice again. 

“His name is Dustin Henderson, if that helps. He’s a freshman at Hawkins, said he stops here sometimes–”

“Dustin Henderson is your cousin?” Steve and Robin say at the same time, completely taken aback. 

You laugh. “Ya know, I’ve gotten that a lot since being in Hawkins. I take it he’s well known?”

“Oh, he’s definitely well known.” Robin snorts, thinking about how many people would scream at the idea of more Hendersons running around the world. 

But if they’re anything like you, then Robin thinks she’d love to be invited to a Henderson family reunion. Immediately. 

“Well,” you smile again at the two teens, amused by their weird dynamic. You can see why Dustin likes them so much. “Since I’m stuck here for a while and I promised Dustin I’d get a movie, I’m gonna take a look around as suggested.”

You pause, now realizing you haven’t asked for their names, and you gasp. “I’m so sorry! What are your names? I feel horrible for not even asking.”

“You could never do any wrong,” Steve sighs dreamily, leaning against the counter in what he hopes is a cool looking pose. “I’m Steve, Steve Harrington.”

He sticks his hand out for you to shake, which you accept with a slight giggle. He’s odd, but incredibly endearing even if he’s currently standing against the counter like a middle-aged man. “I’m Y/N Henderson.” 

Robin, sensing what Steve is trying to do, hip checks the boy so that he falls onto the ground. “And I’m Robin Buckley, the better half of this duo.”

Like hell she’s going to allow him to flirt with you. 

Her declaration makes you laugh, even as poor Steve groans on the floor in pain. You wink at her, amused by her charm, and start to walk towards the movie aisles. “Oh, I believe that.”

Steve scrambles back up, and the second you’re out of earshot, he and Robin immediately shout at the same time, “Dibs!”

“Jinx!” Again, they say this at the same time. They both groan, and without any other words, they jump into an intense game of rock, paper, scissors. 

“One, two, three!” Steve holds out a rock, Robin does as well, and the two teens almost strangle one another. 

They try again, this time they both land on paper, and Robin throws her head back in frustration. “I’m not good at math, but this cannot be statistically possible.”

“Okay, let’s think about this.” Steve holds a finger up to indicate that he’s speaking, which Robin scoffs at. “I saw her first, so–”

“Uh, news flash, dingus: I saw her first.”

“Were you dropped as a child? I clearly saw her first–”

“Actually,” your voice causes both Robin and Steve to turn in horror, realizing too late that you’ve been standing behind them, listening in. “You both saw me at the same time, so I’m not sure how the rule of dibs applies here.”

“We…” Steve gapes at you, speechless. 

Robin is no better, her face burns horribly. “We think… You’re pretty?”

“Well, I gathered that much.” You laugh again, and the sound is enough for both Steve and Robin to forget all their worries and admire how delicate it is. Then, holding up two dvd’s, you place them on the counter. “I’ll take these, please.”

Robin looks down at your movie selection, seeing The Breakfast Club and The Outsiders, and her heart drops. “Just… Just these?”

“Mhm,” you nod, unsure why her demeanor has suddenly changed. “Is there something wrong with my movie selection?”

Steve looks at Robin and he knows immediately what’s wrong. She absolutely hates your taste in movies, which he’s ecstatic over. He lets out a whoop and first bumps the air. “Yes! She’s mine!”

“Shut up, you moron!” Robin screeches, embarrassed and infuriated. She cannot believe that this is happening to her right now, in front of a very pretty girl, no less. Closing her eyes, Robin takes a deep breath and turns to you. “Please excuse my friend, he’s allergic to pretty girls.”

“Hey, that’s not true–”

You cross your arms at Robin, an amused smile on your face. “What’s so wrong with my taste in movies?”

“Nothing!” When you raise your eyebrow at her, Robin accepts her fate and gives in. She knows she’s done for now. “It’s just… It’s incredibly bland.”

“I happen to think your taste is impeccable, Y/N.” Steve butts in, batting his eyelashes at you for added effect.

Robin watches, with pure disgust, as it works. Steve’s charm gets you to laugh once more, and you even lean closer to his side of the counter. You place a hand on his arm. “I’m honored to have you on my side, then.”

Stupid Harrington and his stupid male species. 

While you and Steve exchange gross lovey-dovey glances, Robin rings up your movie rentals with disdain. 

“That will be $5.25, please.” She mumbles, crestfallen. 

You tear your eyes away from Steve’s and notice the jealousy and hurt on Robin’s face. You frown, feeling bad for being the cause of this. She seems like a sweet girl, and Dustin spoke highly of her, so you know she’s someone special. Taking some cash out of your purse, you hand it to Robin and catch her eye. 

“Hey, listen to me real quick.” Robin looks up, despite not wanting to, but your eyes are too pretty not to look into. When you have her attention, you turn to Steve. “Can you give us a second?”

He looks bewildered. “What? Why?”

“If you leave now, I’ll give you my number.”

“Yes ma’am!” Steve hops over the counter and goes to sort some movies, leaving you alone with Robin. 

Once he’s gone, you lean in close to her. “I understand what you’re going through.”

Her eyes widen, terrified she’s been caught. “W–what? No, I think you’ve gotten this all wrong–”

“It’s okay,” you grab her hand, gently take it between yours. “We’re more alike than you may think, and while I’m flattered, you’re too young.”

Robin knows she should be devastated by this, but all she hears is, “So… Let’s say ten years from now, if you happen to visit Dustin again…”

You laugh, she’s got such a spark to her. “You’ll have to figure out the whole ‘dibs’ thing by then with Steve.”

“I saw you first!” Steve shouts from somewhere in the aisles, before a giant crash follows. A few seconds pass, and then, much quieter this time, he shouts, “I’m fine!”

-

⌑ writing masterlist

[lawchwan]

love alphabet (sanji)

summary: just another alphabet for our favorite perverted romantic chef

disclaimer: there are some spoilers of skypiea and Whole Cake Island in some alphabets so be warn with that. and obviously some alphabets have nsfw content. Also some alphabets have fem terms, which was not my intention, i’ll edit them once i have the free time.

crossposted on ao3

A = Affection (PDA, what sort of affection they give)

You are talking to the king of PDA. If you’re someone who cannot handle pda, then you need to start handling it with Sanji. He loves to be hands-on with you, literally, declaring to the entire world how much you mean to him. This man just outright loves you, and he’s not shy of showcasing it.

Bonus: he loves to be extra in front of Zoro, just to rub it in his face, only to get a groan and an eye roll of disgust from him (and the entire straw hats really, even Luffy couldn’t stand it)

B = Babies (Anything you want about babies)

“Oh, you want babies? Say less, ma’am, I’ll throw all the condoms and contraceptives away. When and where and I’ll give it to you” he says, with heart eyes and nosebleed as you mentioned in passing about babies.

In all seriousness, Sanji does have a soft spot for kids. He is a very gentle man and often really caring towards kids. If you remember at the end of enies lobby, the way he handled Chimney with such care after her exclaiming about how hungry she is how I imagined he’d be with his own kid, and maybe even extra doting and caring. Also chopper and Sanji’s interaction during skypiea… I don’t think I need to add more… (Although Chopper is 17 years old/was 15 during skypiea, it still applies)

C = Cuddles (How they cuddle or are cuddled)

Oh that man loves to cuddle. He may not be the most fleshy, he does however have the warmth that can counteract as a blanket and that’s enough of you. He, like law in my previous love alphabet, loves to be the small spoon, except he is more open about and doesn’t care about one says about it.

D = Darling  (Pet names) 

He’ll throw in any affectionate nicknames that he could think of at the top of his head and will say it with no shame. But I do think he’s the type to say “darling,” “my love,” “my sweet,” and “angel.”

He also has more pet names/nicknames in the bedroom and calls you goddess/god and mommy/daddy. He one time slipped up and called you mommy/daddy in front of Zoro, and Zoro mocked him for all eternity until you confronted him… : )

E = Enamored (how hard do they fall when in love)

It's Sanji we’re talking about… this man will lay his eyes on any woman and he’ll fall head over heels. But when it comes to you, there’s a slightly subtle change. While he still maintains his chivalry and flirtatious act, he does put in extra effort with you. If he makes Nami and Robin a parfait, then you’ll get extra toppings and flavors of your liking. Honestly, their food—still being better than how he would serve his male crew—would start looking underwhelming next to yours, but it's not that they’re complaining. Matter of fact, they, mainly Nami, thank you for having reciprocal feelings since Sanji hasn’t been going at either woman.   

F = Firsts (A first on anything you pick)

The first time Sanji cooked for you was special. You were sitting in the kitchen, alone with him, as you happened to catch a case of “midnight hunger,” and there he was, a handsome cook cleaning the dishes as he hums to himself. When you made your presence known, the blond man turned with his usual charismatic smile and turned the sink before doing so.

“hey, (y/n) darling, what are you doing here?”

He seemed genuinely to be ecstatic to see you in the kitchen, even though it was god-awful late at night, he didn’t seem bothered for some reason. You were about to mention how hungry you were, until the grumble of your stomach spoke for you, only for you to look away, flustered. Sanji simply chuckled as he stated sweetly, “I guess I know why…”

And there you were, as much as you didn’t want to wear him out, he was very insistent and ended up cooking up something upon your request. You just sat there, ogling at the cook as he worked his magic. You stare at his hands, veins popping up handsomely due to the force he is exerting, whether through cutting vegetables or holding onto the sizzling pan, as you place your head onto your hand. You didn’t say much to not distract him, but, man oh man, was he attractive just cooking for you.

“oh, how I wish those hands were on me…” you thought to yourself as you began analyzing his physique with your eyes wandering from his blond locks to his tiny yet built waist, down to his thick ass. Your head was heading to perverted places where you might need a quick shower afterward.

He seemed to have noticed that you were staring at him, so as he finished with his finishing touch, he began declaring, “Voila!”  as he handed you the dish. You were brought back to reality after he spoke up, and you looked down at your dish.

“Oh, wow does that look good,” you say, softly yet excitedly. He just shrugged and hummed with a confident smile before handing your utensils. As you had your first bite, you closed your eyes as you moaned in glee; you truly never doubted him when it came to food because that was perhaps the most delicious dish you ever had. He simply just looked at you admirably, as he mimicked your look towards him when you saw him cook, even down to the head-on-chin position.

Once you were done, you sighed and let out a phew due to your fullness. “How’d you like it?” Sanji spoke up with a smile as he took your plate.

“That was amazing, Sanji… Thank you so much,” You say with gratitude as you hold his face with one hand, and he leaned against it. He mirrored you, only this time he leaned in before he wiped the corner of your lips the remaining sauce while he maintained eye contact.

“Missed a spot,” he whispered to you before licking his finger, winking, and taking the plate to the sink. He then had his back to you with a smirk while you looked at him in awe.

God, does this man drive you crazy…

G = Good Morning (How do they wake you up)

You best believe that you’ll be getting your morning kisses daily from him. If he wakes up before you, he’ll just lift himself and stare at you with love sparkle all over his blue eyes, he’ll probably even run his fingernail against your skin before kissing you awake. He’ll paint that beautiful smile as he says with his gentle morning voice, “Good morning, sunshine.”

That’s on his lazy days though, other days, however, he might just wake you up with breakfast in bed. He’ll set aside the tray before he gently shakes you until you wake up and informs you that he made you breakfast.

He is such a romantic, it warms one’s cold heart.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs?)

His hugs are so warm… I don’t know what else to add. He just adds a layer of comfort to him, just like his cuddles.

I = In Labor (Labour and Delivery)

He’s an absolute mess and honestly, you might have considered kicking him out during delivery. It’s not that he’s a dick about it or whatever—matter of fact, poor dude’s just trying to help—, but he’s acting like he’s the one giving birth due to his nervousness and is making you feel worse about the situation. If he wasn’t your love and/or the father of your child, you’d have kicked him out and had Zoro or Robin fill the role for support (you’ve thought of Nami as well, but she’d probably be squeamish and leave the room).

And once that child’s out, he’ll probably cry at the sight of your beautiful creation and kiss you on the top of your head while he praises you and compliments the beautiful bundle of joy.

“You did it… You’re so amazing,”

J = Jealousy (Are they jealous? How do they handle it?)

And the winner of the most hypocritical individual award goes to; Blackleg Sanji. You might have to beat him for it, because how the fuck is he allowed to flirt with other women, yet he beats men whom you’ve given the same energy?

All jokes aside, this man will probably glare at the person who’s attempting to get closer to you. He’ll probably start causing chaos if anyone were to lay a hand on his partner and he doesn’t care, he’ll stop when the one who gets the beat down promises he won’t look at you again.

K = Kisses (How do they kiss? How often?)

You finally understood the addiction to nicotine when you first pressed your lips against his. No matter a peck or a full-on passionate, his lips were simply addicting and you just crave them every time you look at him. He places a cigarette on his lips, and you envy the tip of the cigarette for it is covered by his lips when it should be your skin that is covered by his lips.

He kisses you very often, maybe a little bit too often, disgustingly often. But he’ll tone it down if you ask, and he’ll give you kisses throughout the day, he can never leave a day with no kisses for you.

L = Loyal (How loyal are they?)

Contrary to popular belief—and the jokes I’ve been making earlier—, Sanji’s pretty loyal. Sure, he may flirt with multiple women, which is a bad habit, but he never thought of sleeping with them now that he’s with you. He mainly claims it as just acts of chivalry, but truly he never intends on coming off as overtly flirtatious nor does he have any intentions of cheating on you, and he will always find a way to prove it.

M = Memory (Their favourite memory about you?)

The first time you declared your love for him. Underneath that charismatic aura, Sanji’s a broken man who believes that love is not by his side. Sure, he is aware that he has platonic, or rather familial love from the straw hat crew, Zeff, and the workers at Baratie, but he never would have thought that he’d find genuine romantic love and he was on his journey of accepting that.

Until you came along and ruined it, and Sanji couldn’t have been more grateful that you did. When you two happened to be kissing each other after an intimate session, you held him and uttered those three words, only for him to be gasping and widen his eyes in astonishment.

“What?”

You looked at him with a loving smile and holding onto his delicate face, “I love you, Sanji…”

You made Sanji’s heart flutter as he looked at you with glossy eyes and he laid on your chest and you began stroking his locks. You didn’t want him to respond if he didn’t want to, you simply just wanted to let him know, only for you to hear a whisper,

“I love you too…”

N = Never! (Dealbreakers)

Never mention his biological father, and don’t you ever try to reunite them. Sanji considers Zeff as his real dad, he taught and treated him like a father would to his son, so if you’d reunite them, he’d be over the moon. Reunite him with Judge and Sanji will feel betrayed that you would put him in a room with his abuser.

No amount of “but you guys are family” will cut it.

O = On the Rocks (How do they make up?)

Sanji’s the type to apologize through meals. He’ll obviously talk to you, but no matter how mad he is/you are, he’ll not leave you hungry. You two will start apologizing to each other and admit your mistakes. The one thing you love about Sanji is that he respects you too much for you to be upset, even if you’re in the wrong.

So you’ll simply just talk it out and kiss afterward… which may lead to more action if you get my drift.

P = Playtime (Any headcanons on sex)

Sanji loves to call you goddess/god, no matter if he’s domming or subbing. He just loves the thought of worshipping you and gliding his tongue all over his skin.

He also enjoys giving you oral or fingering you, doesn’t matter where you guys are, he’ll always find a way to have a taste of you, claiming “It’s the best flavor I’ve ever tried.”

Q = Quiet Time (How do they wind down?)

The perfect wind-down for Sanji is simply cuddling in bed or cooking alone with you. Sure, it may seem very cliché, but Sanji’s a cliché man and he knows it, especially when you call him out on it, but he doesn’t care.

What better way to spend some quiet time than when you have your partner with you, am I right?

R = Rapture (What makes them happy?)

When you value him and remind him how loved and important he is. Given his childhood, it is easy for him to slip through the mindset of self-loathing and ending himself, which resulted in his sacrificial personality. While you were never a cure for it, you did help him ease through those tough times, and he grew to appreciate you for your effort and how you don’t perceive the way others do.

Your overall love and appreciation for him means so much to him, thus resulting in making him happy.

S = Soulmate (What do they think of soulmates?)

Oh, he hands down believes in soulmates. First off, he’s a Pisces, and every Pisces I’ve met believes in soulmates. Secondly, he is a romantic at heart, soul, and body so he believes that there’s someone out there that will complete his soul.

T = Together (What do you like to do together?)

Cooking, of course, and also shopping. This man will go broke for you and he’ll be happy to go into debt for you, as long as you are happy and content, please, by all means, make his pockets hurt (but you won't because you love him too much to ever go through that).

U = Unyielding (How do they handle interlopers on the relationship?)

Sanji will karate kick them on their way out. “How dare you to try to meddle in OUR perfect. Beautiful, loving relationship?! Who gave you the absolute right to try and take my sweet partner away?! I’ll beat you to a pulp!” Sanji would exclaim as he proceeded to ambush the person who tried to interlope.

V = Vulnerable (Are they vulnerable often? How do they handle it?)

Sanji would not be as vulnerable as you’d think when you first met. Sure, he’s very emotional in tune and can hold you days on end when you just want to cry out about whatever’s bothering you, past or present.

Just like Law, once he gains trust, that’s when the floodgates are open and he starts becoming vulnerable and talking about his trauma. Please hug him and promise you won’t throw him under the bus with all of that, he needs emotional support and love.

W = Wedding (Wedding headcanons)

He’ll make sure he’ll make your wedding a day you won’t ever forget. I imagine your guys’ wedding being extravagant yet still intimate, inviting only the straw hat crew—yes including Zoro—, Vivi, Zeff, and most of his workers of Baratie from his end. He made sure you had some cake testing before the wedding and was mostly in charge of the catering, despite it being his wedding day.

Despite you were the bride, Sanji was more of a bridezilla than you were, and you had your fair share of freak outs, but not to the extend of Sanji’s to which you had to calm him down. Eventually, however, everything was settled—thanks to you and the rest of the straw hat—and you had a beautiful wedding by the beach.

(idk he seems like someone who would want a beach wedding.)

X = (E)x (How do they handle exes? What do they do if they see them)

He’d act the same with interlopers when it comes to your ex, especially if that ex had done unimaginable heinous things to you.

Meanwhile, his exes might have to run away because otherwise, he’ll start acting “too friendly,” and may slip up a few details about their previous relationship, which results in you being insecure.

He eventually apologizes, genuinely avoids his ex, and never interacts with them.

Y = Yearning (What do they do when they miss you?)

Another pillow sniffer and clothes (panties) stealer. Yup, that’s it, nothing else to add there. Just read my law’s one and just switch law with Sanji and you’ll get the same effect.

While he’s always snatching your pillows and clothes when you’re away, whenever he’s in the kitchen, he’ll even cook your favorite food to remind him of you. Even though he cooked it himself, he can’t help but be reminded of you and your sparkling eyes of joy when you see him cook your favorite meal.

NSFW

 He loves your enthusiasm so damn much, and God does he crave to see it again, especially when you have that similar sparkle when he undresses in front of you and showcases his pink-tipped cock to you.

Where were those panties when he needed them?

Z = Zzz… (Sleeping headcanons)

He loves it when you guys are in spooning positions. While he prefers being the small spoon, he loves to wrap himself around you with your chest on his. The feeling of you being snug beside him makes him feel like he can protect you and there’s no better feeling than that.

characters are owned by oda. i will not tolerate nor accept translation, reposts on other websites, or plagiarism. divider made by mmadeinheavenn.

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

When Paths Diverge - Y.JH

💔Who; Yoon Jeonghan x female reader 💔What; Angst. Established relationship. Break up. Vampires. 💔Wordcount; 2.2k 💔Warnings; Honestly, Jeonghan is not exactly a good person. Though it's not really explored in this. Reader realises that their relationship is not healthy and stands up for herself! References to turning/loss of humanity but no actual descriptions of that. I don't think there's actually anything specific to warn about, but let me know if I'm wrong.

Summary; After decades together, after everything you've been through, you can't believe that this is all it takes for the rose-tinted glasses to slip from your eyes and allow you to see the truth of Yoon Jeonghan, the man you thought you would spend eternity with.

-2024 Masterlist-

AN- I have no idea where this whole idea came from, it just hit me and it was supposed to be more of a quick flashback scene in a fic about them meeting in the future but instead this happened. It's very different to anything I've written in a long time so I hope it's okay. Big thank you to @kwanisms for helping me with the header by supplying Jeonghan pics! 💖

"You are not the person I fell in love with anymore." It's said so simply, so effortlessly, like he's rehearsed those words a thousand times in front of the mirror. Perhaps he has. You wouldn't put it past Jeonghan and his neverending need to be seen as nothing short of perfection. "You are nothing like the woman I fell in love with those years ago."

"You can't seriously be saying that." You respond disbelievingly.

"I am. You have changed, my dear, and not for the better."

"Of course, I've changed, Jeonghan! It's been decades since we met and you turned me in that time! Of course, I've changed!"

"I have not."

"Maybe that's the problem, Jeonghan. Your inability to make even the slightest changes to yourself and expect the world to bend and mould around the shape of you." You scoff and shake your head while getting up from the couch. He remains seated in the same formal upright posture he always does. Unchanged in all his centuries of life. You had given up your humanity for him, left everything behind for him, yet he can't even relax his posture even once. It isn't the first time you've noticed it but it is the first time you've ever spoken it aloud, spurred on by his own hurtful words. "Humans are supposed to change as we grow, Jeonghan."

"We are not human any longer. I cannot even remember how it feels to be human. Maybe that is the cause of our differences, that you can still recall those memories." He too gets up and straightens his already neat shirt as his always-so-level gaze meets your upset one.

While it usually settles you to see him so calm regardless of circumstance, always so in control and the voice of reason, now it just hurts. Even now, during what your entire being knows is the end of your decades-long romance, Jeonghan's expression shows no sign of feeling, well… anything.

Shortly, you try to recall a time when he let his truth show beside the gentle little smiles he's treated you to over the years, yet you can't recall a single memory. You don't know how you've never realised before how much that hurts.

Suddenly, you're struck with the thought that perhaps, you never truly knew Yoon Jeonghan. You had thought that you were his exception, the only person he allowed to see the man behind the mask, yet now you're realising that he has kept even you at arm's length even when you were wrapped up in them and tucked safely against his chest. You knew, still know, that he cares for you in his own way. You're just now realising that it's not enough and never was.

"Did you think I would become emotionless like you these decades? Is that why you agreed to turn me in the first place? To remove my physical humanity and hope the rest would follow?" Your heart breaks a little more when he just stares at you. There may be no sign of a response from him but Jeonghan is quick-witted and always has a retort, has never once missed the chance to correct someone. His lack of answer is louder than his words could ever be. "Right." You take a deep steadying breath, making his gaze dart down shortly to your expanding chest before he looks back at you.

You used to think he found your quirk of taking unneeded breaths amusing, or perhaps cute, but now you know the truth; he doesn't look at your chest fond of the sign of the human habit remaining. But in disdain. He's been waiting for you to drop all your links to humanity yet you refuse. Humanity may not be a very elegant species and full of flaws, but as a whole, they're good, have morals and work hard to stick to them. But vampires? Well, after so long living, morals seem to become a rather grey area for them so you've seen. You always thought Jeonghan was a rare exception to that, but you know you've overlooked more than you should've in the name of love. Not in his actions towards you but to other humans. He's always put himself above humans and so long as you continue to keep your little shreds of humanity in your chest, he'll always see himself as above you too.

"I guess I'll pack up and leave." You declare, already walking to your shared bedroom. You don't stop to look around it, take it in for one last time. You already know what you'll see. Signs of the both of you, old mixed with new, him and you. A clear distinction you had stubbornly refused to see for the truth of what is it, two separates that can't make a whole. Not when your edges have been formed in your humanity and the weaker points smoothed over by Jeonghan's hands to fit against his own edges, yet you still have too many sharp points he could never flatten out. You hadn't even realised he was trying to.

"Just like that?" He questions, following you smoothly and watching as you pull out the large case from under the bed, which usually only shows up when he takes the pair of you away on an expensive luxurious holiday somewhere cold in summer. To escape the sun blistering the sensitive vampiric skin covering your bodies. You had never seen him blister and had never experienced it yourself either as Jeonghan has always swept you both away at the first sign of the sun's heat but you trusted his words entirely. Trusted him.

It won't be until the coming summer that you realise that he hadn't been entirely truthful, yes a vampire's skin is much more sensitive to the sun's rays, but it's much less instantaneous than he had made out. The newfound knowledge will make you wonder what else he hadn't been honest about, and send you on a task to relearn everything you know about vampirism, and the world in general.

But now.

"Are you expecting me to grovel and beg for you to change your mind and allow me to remain by your side?" You huff, shoving items into the case, not everything you own because frankly, you don't care for all the silks and jewels. That's all Jeonghan, wanting you both to always be donned in the best money can buy. "Since when have I begged for anything, Jeonghan?"

"Never."

"Then I haven't changed as you claim."

"And you will not?" It's the first time he's outright about his wants here. It makes you pause your harsh packing to look over at him incredulously. "You said that you love me, you tell me every day, my dear, yet you will not even try to tempt me to open my arms again with an offer of change?"

"You think I am the one who should change here? Jeonghan, I gave up my humanity for you, I gave up my family, my friends, my life, everything for you and you think I need to do more to prove my devotion to you?"

"Is that not what love is? Proving one's devotion?"

"Then where are your attempts to prove your own to me?" You point out. "Over the course of this conversation, I've come to the rather jarring and honestly heartbreaking realisation that you have not once ever changed for my sake. You've spent decades manipulating my very heart to your own whims yet you remain as stone-hearted as ever. Unmouldable. I wish I knew that when we met, that you truly are just the empty shell of a being that man accused you of being. Thinking about it, maybe I should've picked him that night."

"That man is a vile excuse for a vampire."

"Is he?" You think of the beautiful tall man from all those decades ago. He hadn't seemed very vampiric to you at the time and even less so now that you think back on it. He seemed more, human. More like you. "I should've taken his hand and let him save me from you."

"Save you?" Jeonghan repeats softly. The first sign in this ordeal that he isn't entirely apathetic. "You have never needed saving from me, I have never done a thing to hurt you, nor will I."

"Not physically at least."

"There is no other way that matters."

"The fact you can say that and truly mean it, is perhaps the scariest I've ever seen you, Jeonghan."

"I do not understand."

"And that makes it worse." You turn and get back to your packing. "But at least I finally know you're capable of admitting to weakness."

"You are my weakness." That makes you pause again, though you don't turn to him. "I do not want you to leave."

"I don't want to either, not really, but I can't stay if nothing will change, if you won't change, Jeonghan. I deserve more than that. You always say that I deserve the best, that you'd give me every star in the sky if I wanted them to hold in my hands, but you won't even change your own centuries-old, outdated habits and thoughts for me." You pack slower this time, not because you're trying to put it off, you know your departure from the home you can no longer call your own is inevitable. You're moving slower because it's finally starting to catch up with you and bloom saltwater in your eyes. You're trying to stop it from falling any faster and hoping your own movements will slow the descent at least until you are out of the door. It will only hurt worse to be the only one crying again when he should be crying with you. But you know he won't. He never has.

"I do not know if I can do that, my love."

"Then I can't stay. If you ever manage, I'm sure you will find a way to let me know."

"You really are leaving? With no intention of seeing me again?"

"Not unless you change. I can't be the only one trying to be a better version of myself for the other." You shove a final jumper into the case and zip it up. You don't really have anything sentimental to keep, it all reminds you of Jeonghan and when he had turned you, he convinced you to let go of all reminders of your past as it would only hurt too much. You had believed him at the time, had full faith and hadn't taken a single memento of your family or human life. Though now you just think he was trying to make you lose all ties to your humanity to change you at your core, not to protect your delicate heart.

"Where will you go?" He asks, stopping you from leaving the bedroom by standing in the doorway and putting a hand on your arm. You brush him off though don't look at him, you can't.

If you did, you would've seen the pain starting to seep into his eyes.

"A hotel, I have enough money to do that until I decide where to make a home for myself."

"You will not go far, will you? I cannot bear the thought of such a distance between us."

"So I should suffer for you instead?"

"No."

"Then let me go without a fuss, you owe me that much at least."

Jeonghan is quiet for long enough that you almost lift your lowered damp gaze to look at him, yet he speaks just in time to prevent you from doing so. He hadn't known that you were about to look up and see real emotion in his eyes for the first time, that you would've seen his heartbreak and immediately reconsidered leaving. If he had known, he would've stayed quiet longer and let you see him for the first time. But he didn't know, so he opened his mouth and spoke quietly. "I owe you a lot more, I am starting to understand that now." He admits. "I will not stop you again, just know that I will be here waiting for you to come back. I shall do everything I can to change myself but this is our home, my love, and it will remain this way ready to welcome you back when I discover out how to prove myself to you. You can change it however you like when you return, but until then, it shall remain this way."

"Don't do that." You frown. "I won't want to return to this."

"I thought you love our home?"

"I do now, but I won't then. To find it unchanged will just remind me of the past. Let it change with you, reflect you and if you find me one day and bring me back, I can add pieces of me back into it again."

"If that is what you want." You nod and adjust your grip on your case. "I love you, I wish it was enough."

"Me too, Jeonghan." Your lips press together tightly to prevent more words from spilling from them in amongst the sobs threatening to bubble out into the thick air between you, and you walk past him the second he steps aside.

The front door of the house is barely closed behind you before the tears start to flow. You stop to take a shuddering wet gasp before rushing to your car to throw the case into the back and drive.

You don't know where you're going, you don't know what will happen but you hope with everything in you that one day, you'll find yourself back on the same path as Jeonghan and meet a man changed for the better.

A/N- Don't be shy to let me know what you think! As I said in my author note at the top, I don't really write stuff like this, all serious angsty type things but if I know people like it, I will try to write more in the future!

[elsecrytt]

masochist gojo. gojo who's in love with pain, so much that it feels like pleasure, he can barely distinguish between the two anymore.

gojo who's so starved for touch. who's had an infinite space between himself and the whole world for so long, for so many years, every day in and day out.

gojo who's survived off glancing presses when a barista hands him a coffee, the rare hug from his students (who are mostly orphans) that he can't bring himself to decline.

gojo who craves more but can't bring himself to accept it except in fleeting moments with strangers or students.

his hands that long to be held. he wants it so bad that he teases a cursed spirit, laces his fingers with its own, right before he utterly crushes the being in battle, untouchable all over again.

gojo whose skin is hungry for someone else's. he hasn't felt the warmth of a hand in his own in so long. not since - since his youth.

gojo who sometimes wishes he could get hit. who sees the impact of curse techniques on his infinity and feels a wild, strange desire for them to go straight through and strike him.

he imagines it, vividly, being impaled by a long spear (inverted spear) that goes straight through him. how it would lance his flesh so cleanly.

being struck so hard, across the face, in the stomach, enough to knock the wind out of him.

enough to feel it with his whole body.

gojo who wants to be touched so bad he doesn't even care if it hurts anymore. infinity couldn't protect him from geto's betrayal.

gojo who keeps infinity up not because he doesn't want to get hit, but because he's terrified of what he might do when it happens.

gojo who got hard whenever geto sparred with him. he still doesn't know if it was because of geto, or because he had no infinity back then, no way to block the strikes.

he dreams of his youth. bruises littering his pale, pretty form like kisses, proof that he was human, there, that there was someone who could reach him.

dark purple things that turned pretty colors as they healed. he remembers pressing into them, relishing the hurt, feeling like he was getting hit (touched, reached, connected) all over again.

nothing ever touches him again. not like that. not like anything.

he never feels it. he never feels anything.

satoru gojo who wants, so very very badly, to feel something.

pain is a choice for him, always a choice. he alone has the privilege of deciding whether or not anything can touch him.

he could try to let more strangers touch him. one night stands, discreet arrangements. he had a pretty face and a body to match. there was no shortage of willing partners.

he lets them touch him, lets them hurt him. lets them drool over his body and use it at their leisure. they tell him he's beautiful, and he believes them.

white hair, blue eyes, sprawled out with a lean, unmarred body full of bare flesh for them to bite and scratch and bruise. he finds people who will do it, do it hard, fuck him up until he's lost entirely in the feeling of being touched, having someone against him, with him, above him.

it makes him feel like a piece of meat. it makes him feel good.

or he thinks it does, anyways.

sometimes, when he's gone particularly long without sleep, when his partner has gone particularly hard, he gets a real rush.

heart racing out of his chest. a cold sweat that overwhelms him. breaths coming in labored gasps. he can heal himself, he's physically fine, so this must all be in his head.

he acknowledges that information, distantly, like it's not happening to him. it doesn't help.

it feels like part of his body has been ripped away from him, something vital and important, and it's about to get up and run away.

always, always, it happens when his partner is no longer touching him. when he lays alone in the sheets, by his own volition, because of course these partners are not meant to be attachments.

love is not a privilege, though, not for the strongest sorcerer. it's a curse.

it's the only curse which infinity cannot protect him from.

so gojo stays untouchable. distant.

but the hunger doesn't go away. never.

he likes to imagine that suguru swallowed this one last curse before he died. something sweet and bitter, like losses at the arcade, sunny days at the beach, walking together with shoko, nanami, haibara.

but even suguru couldn't have absorbed this curse. it's in his bones, deep, longing and wanting even after he's dead and gone.

gojo is hungry. he is so, so hungry. and he has nothing to eat that will not leave him just as empty as before.

touch-starved. love-starved. pain-craving.

if someone could hurt him then it wouldn't matter that he was terrified of attachment. they could latch onto him, into his heart, under his skin. bury themselves in his chest like they belonged.

they could kill a hundred and twelve people and it wouldn't matter, because he wouldn't be able to kill them.

gojo is hungry, so hungry.

please feed him.

[muzansfangs]

Not perfect, yours.

Starring: Tomioka Giyuu x f!reader;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, fluff, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, body worship, spoiler regarding Giyuu’s past, scars from battles, learning self-love, comfort sex, creampie, enstablished secret relationship, mentions to injures, post traumatic stress disorder (flashes about Sabito’s death), nipple play, praise kink, slight choking kink;

Plot: You have learned to love yourself by loving him. Living a life of danger, wearing the scars of your fights with pride, you would have never thought someone was going to love you. When you met him, when he opened his heart to you, though, everything changed. Protecting what you two had was your priority. As you shared a night into a Wisteria house with him, you finally let yourself go. You trusted Giyuu with your whole life, you loved him more than anything else on this world;

Author note: it is rare for me to put the author note on top of a one-shot, but in order to prevent possible drama to happen, I needed to clarify a thing, or two: this fic is an old work of mine posted on my old Ao3 account and my old Wattpad profile as well. While I cannot log anymore into Ao3 for some reason, I can still log into my old Wattpad profile and I will try to gradually delete my old works as I fix and rewrite them! Do not worry and enjoy this little scrap!

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The bittersweet scent of the wisteria filled the room, a gentle breeze blowing from the window making the atmosphere quite peaceful.

Sitting onto the tatami floor, you ran your fingers absent-mindedly through your hair, glancing at your reflection in the mirror in front of you. You looked battered. A constellation of scratches and bruises of various colors, mostly purple though, adorned your skin. Your hair, despite emanating a sweet porfume from the oil you had been kindly provided by the old keeper of the Wisteria house were still a mess. You had not got much time to trim them as of late.

What did you expect, though? This was your life and your day had been spent in a draining battle against a demon. Nothing new under the sun. You were used to look like this, to look kind of repulsive or unattractive for most of the male population. Or those were the words you had frequently heard people tag you with.

You were beautiful, your eyes glowing in passion, your features and curves making some Oirans turn pale. Yet, you had chosen a path that made you collect scars over your body and that caused every man you had met in your life to scrunch their noses in disgust, whenever you tried to strike up some basic conversation.

No one seemed to like a woman who lived the life of a warrior.

No one except him, the Water Pillar, Giyuu Tomioka. You two were considered the outcasts of the society. You were a rather unconventional woman, he was a lone wolf barely talking to people. Too reserved, too detached from the world, too sensitive too. Yet, you somehow found love in his solitary heart.

Glancing back at him from above your shoulder, your gaze trailed towards him, laying on the futon behind you. He was shirtless, his ocean blue eyes locking with yours before travelling down your own body. You watched how his pale cheeks turned red and you smiled faintly at his innocent reaction. His gaze was not lustful, it was one of complete adoration: a timid attempt to make you feel appreciated.

You were not naked, you still had the pants of your uniform hanging loosely on your hips and your chest was still covered by the straps of your worn-out bendage bra. However, that was the first time you had been stuck in the same room together, barely wearing clothes.

This was a new experience, a level of intimacy you both had been looking forward to. Something you coveted for months.

Seven months had passed since your first date. It had taken you less than two months to realize how deep was your love for him, how strong was the connection binding you to his heart. You still vividly remembered the day you two kissed for the first tims. It was a starless night at the Butterfly Estate and you were recovering from your last mission.

Giyuu blamed himself for not having accompanied you and kept on self-deprecating for always making the same fatal mistakes. The mistakes only you knew about.

“I could have lost you. Just like I have lost him” he had bitterly uttered, teary eyes inspecting your beaten visage. Countering back something was pointless. Giyuu never displayed emotions around other people. But he did with you and you knew that nothing could have truly made him change his mind, therefore you had boldly cupped his face in your hands and captured his chapped lips with yours. Amazement, awe, the feeling of floating and being loved for the first time ever engulfed you two.

The monsters keeping him awake at night, the guilt of having had his life spared by fate, or better, for having left Sabito alone in the wood had temporary evaporated.

You had fallen asleep in his arms that very night. It had became a habit of yours, slumping down next to him and nuzzling your face onto the crook of his neck. It was hard resting without his body keeping you warm at night.

And just like you always did, that night you walked up to him and straddled his lap. By the look in your eyes and the way Giyuu swallowed forcefully, you could tell something was different, though. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, when you shifted slightly to adjust your position on him. You felt his breath hitching and you batted your eyes closed for several seconds. You could feel the spark between you two, the air getting thin. It was suddenly so hard to breathe.

“Giyuu” you called out his name feebly, making sure he was fine.

It took a moment for him to answer, his hands resting comfortably on your hips to make sure you were really there “I need to know that whatever is going to happen in the future, you will always remember this moment”he softly said then, sending shivers down your spine. How could you ever forget it?

A small smile crept on your lips, half-lidded eyes peeking at him as you cupped his face in your hands and planted a chaste, brief kiss on his parted lips “I could never forget it. Not even in another life” you breathed out, fueling his confidence. You were the only one who had ever managed to make him appreciate himself, as much as it was possible. You knew that some wounds could not completely heal, but you had always tried to mend them, you always did your best to soothe him and save him from the demons pestering his mind.

Saving him somehow meant saving yourself.

The Water Pillar sighed and smashed his lips against yours, earning a breathy gasp from you. Your fingers tangled in his silky, black hair, tugging at them slightly to encourage him to deepen it. It was passionate, emotional even, and you felt your heart burn in your chest, when Giyuu wrapped his hand around your wrist and led it down.

You frowned, eyes opened in curiosity, until you realized that he had settled it to lay flat over his bare chest. You blushed and you could tell he was worried, maybe. You could feel his heart thrumming rhythmically underneath his ribcage, a lullaby you had learnt to fall asleep to through the months.

“Are you sure that you want this?” the Water Hashira mumbled, drawing invisible patterns with his thumb over the back of your hand.

You smiled and nodded your head vigorously “With every inch of my heart” you confirmed.

Giyuu squeezed your hand gently, his heart-rate increasing notably at the sound of your voice “Does it mean that you trust me?” he asked, staring deep into your glimmering eyes.

Your heart ached at the sound of his voice, so uncertain, so thready. Years spent in believing you do not deserve to be alive, undergoing degrading profanities thrown at your face, and enduring loneliness without anyone to stick by your side could deeply demage someone. Given instance, Giyuu Tomioka was broken beyond repair.

“I trust you” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his one.

Words became unnecessary, at this point. You believed in him, you trusted him wholeheartedly and that was already enough.

In a nick of time, his calloused fingers undid the bendages around your torso and your breasts were exposed to his soft eyes. Your nipples stood uptight, as the cool night breeze coming from the window pierced and bit your exposed skin. It was such a delightful sight to behold for him. You let him explore your body, his fingers roaming down your curves and his lips planting wet, open-mouthed kisses down your collarbone, until their grazed your nipples.

You moaned, batting your eyes closed as the tip of his fingers traced the irregular outlines of the small scars you had collected during years of slaying demons. You flinched under his touch, your eyes watering as he praised your beauty continously under his breath, your skin a canvas for him to print kisses over.

“Are you sure I am desirable?” you asked him, burying your face onto the crook of his neck.

Giyuu snorted and grasped your chin delicately, forcing you to look at his face “You are a goddess. Don't you dare claiming otherwise” he deadpanned, cutting you off with a kiss before you could have the chance to retort something.

You flushed in embarrassment, one of his hands working on his belt to unbuckle it hastily. He wanted you, but above anything else he felt the urge to let you know how much you worthed, how deeply he loved you and your glorious body. Giyuu was rather quiet, sometimes it was better for him to act than translate his feelings in words.

In a blink of an eye, you were laying on your back, your pants now discarded somewhere behind you. His cold hand slided underneath your panties, goosebumps raising on your naked legs as he approached your aching core. It felt right. Giyuu was the one.

Blue eyes met yours and you squealed out in pleasure, when his fingers drew figures eight on your bundle of nerves. He was nervous, yet gentle and, when he saw he was successfully pleasuring you, he grew more confident in his actions.

He shot you a knowing glance, before slipping your panties off and, when you bit your lower lip nodding at him, he wasted no time in accomplishing his duty of a caring lover. Anything you wanted, he was going to give it to you.

“Gorgeous, just gorgeous...” he whispered again, his index grazing down at your entrance. He had always felt out of place, as if he did not belong anywhere, but right now the center of his world was right in front of his eyes. You were his happy place in the world. Therefore, for the first time ever, he felt home.

You mewled under his touch, rosy cheeks and shaking legs waiting for him to make his move, to mark you as his for there was nothing more you desired more.

The raven-haired man smiled weakly at you and slowly slided his finger into your aching core, earning a strained moan from you. It was a blissful moment, a glimpse of the bright future laying ahead of you two. You had no idea for how long you were going to be together, considering the life you had chosen to live, but it would have been such a miraculously blissful and dreamy journey.

When he decided to add another finger to stretch you out better before the act, you sighed in content and bucked your hips up in frustration. You yearned for more, for him, for everything.

“Giyuu, please... – you whined, gripping the bedsheets underneath you so tightly that you thought you were going to rip them – I want you” you said, out of breath, eyes glistening in sheer lust and love.

Giyuu obliged to your request and, resting his elbows at each side of your head, he shoved his lenght inside you. A throaty moan fell from his lips, resounding into the bedroom of the Wisteria House you were currently quartering in. He filled you up completely, your walls squeezing him perfectly, as he conquered you inch by inch. Conntected, at least, for the very first time.

You had never seen Giyuu in such a miserable condition. He was barely keeping himself together, sweat beaded his forehead as he stayed still to let you adjust to his size. Your needs came before his ones. The look of adoration in your eyes, the way you kissed him lovingly, wrapping your legs around his waist, made him lose his cool, though.

He did not speak, instead he pulled out of you until only his tip was still buried in your heat before snapping his hips forward again. Your toes curled and you let out a sinful moan of ecstasy, eyes rolling back to your skull.

A few slow and deep thrusts followed, eliciting grunts and pleas from you. You were a moaning mess underneath him, his slow and passionate rhythm sending you to cloud nine. Was it possible falling in love all over again, every second you spent with the same person, with him? It was and it was pretty clear how deeply you trusted him, when, before you both got to reach your climax, you allowed him to wrap his hand around your throat.

Lewd noises and sacrilegious moans filled the air, but you had never felt more alive than now.

He came into you that night, collapsing beside you, drained, and unusually happy because you made him happy.

He turned towards you, silence swallowing you two for a few minutes. He was lost into a whirlwind of emotions, contemplating your weary face affectionately. You were the center of his Universe.

“I love you” he breathed out then, propping his head on the palm his hand to stare at you.

You chuckled softly, reaching out your hand to ruffle his hair jokingly before you spoke out your feelings once again “I love you too, baby”.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! The urge to show love to this man was eating me up from the inside and therefore I am, fixing a relatively old work of mine. As per usual, likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated.

Until next,

x o x o

TAGS: @electronicwitchcollection @shonen-brainrot @ladytamayolover @speedykittenpainter @youdidntseemehere21 @xxfelix-nightxx @doumadono

[yuurei20]

Hey there! Absolutely love all the work you do here, it's really helped me as a newer fan of Twst get a better grasp on the characters and lore, so thanks a lot!!!

I'm not sure if it's ever specified anywhere, but do we know what exactly the name "Twisted Wonderland" encompasses in-universe? Like, is it the name of the whole planet, or a continent, or some other established grouping?

I know we do have a map that shows a lot of the characters homelands, but as far as I recall, it doesn't include the Scalding Sands. Which beyond it being the homeland of Kalim and Jamil, there was also a whole in-game event there that fleshed out the environment and culture, yet do we even know where it would hypothetically be on a map?

I also remember Sam talking about the cultures of the East during the New Years event, so there is presumably more beyond the map we know, but I just don't know if it has ever been clarified? Madol/Thaumarks are also the only currency we've ever seen, which could make it similar to Euro in how a whole continent uses it, or maybe there's something else to it.

Apologies for the long ask, I just found the implications to be fascinating depending on what little info we may have on the matter!

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! ^^ And you are much too kind!! ♡

From comments like “Twisted Wonderland’s got a number of educational institutions for cultivating magicians” and “Twisted Wonderland would be forever enveloped in winter’s cold, harsh embrace,” I do believe that “Twisted Wonderland” is meant to be the name of the entire place to which the prefect has been relocated! 

There are other times, however, where this can sound odd: the entire world (is it a world?) has the same traditional event (Beanfest)? The entire world has the same kind of fire and police organizations? Halloween is one of the biggest events in the entire world? Icicle mushrooms are one of the three greatest delicacies in the entire world? 

It is not impossible, but it is curious! Is it maybe not literally the entire planet, but possibly just a hemisphere?

(But is it a planet at all? Could it possibly be a dimension? 👀 We know that the dorms exist in dimensions of their own--are those pocket dimensions inside the dimension that is Twisted Wonderland?)

Except, as you say, Kalim and Jamil’s home country is not even on the main “world” map and yet it is still considered a part of Twisted Wonderland (as far as I can tell), so we know that “Twisted Wonderland” consists of more than what is being shown to us!

We have never been shown any borders of “this is where Twisted Wonderland ends and where another place begins,” or even heard that any place besides Twisted Wonderland exists here, so with the information we have at the moment I would say that everywhere we have heard of thus far is within the boundaries of Twisted Wonderland—whatever it is that may be 👀 (Limbo?)

Also as you say Sam does manage having eastern branches of his Mystery Shop, but Sam is very mysterious 👀

We technically do not even know if he is a mage (he does not seem to have a visible magestone, unlike the rest of the staff, and being magicless would tie in well to the character upon which he was based), or anything about these Eastern shops! It does not seem like it would be out of character for Sam to have access to inter-dimensional travel and, as aforementioned, his hometown cannot be found on the map 👀

Is Sam like the prefect, moving in between Twst and the world from which the prefect came (and maybe even Japan itself, hence his "Eastern branches")? I am pretty sure that there is nothing in-game to insinuate that this is the case, but it is fun to think ^^

Also as you say, Madol/Thaumarks seem to be a universal currency! I like your comparison to Euro very much!

While things like having the same traditions/currency/events/etc. throughout an entire planet might be a little unrealistic (in this game about dragon princes and mermaids who do parkour ww), it is possible that things were simplified just for the sake of keeping it all manageable within the visual novel medium ^^

My apologies for not having any answers! I do not believe that there is any information missing from what you already know, and while it is all very vague and curious, I agree it is also fun to think about! ^^

[whoisthispersonwow]

How does it feel, to know you can only love him from afar and never do more than graze his cheeks with your fingertips pretending to make a joke out of it under the scrutiny of strangers, to only be able to grasp at the lapel of his jacket with a roughness he does not deserve under the excuse of a brawl, to know that your passion can do nothing but simmer and painfully burn your guts any time he talks about his lovely fiancee, to feel the kind of love no man should feel for another man and yet not being sorry for it despite how deeply wrong it is supposed to be when he smiles at you, to be jealous of how gently he picks up a dog that does not understand how lucky it is to be swayed around with softly, to know how deeply you wish it was you in his arms, your arms around his shoulders and waist, to feel your world disappear when you hear of his death and wanting nothing more than crash in the most horrible way to join him, to feel everything light up again upon hearing his voice saying your name as if he had never left and took your entire soul with him, to know that once the war ends, he will leave you, go back to a life you never believed you could pretend enjoying while you were in the midst of combat, no one to come home to and no soft cheek to kiss except his forbidden one, and you'll be left with nothing but your unrequited love and the aching heart of a drunk man, no better than his dad despite it all, plagued by your vices, while he builds a family of his own and takes pictures in which you never stand by his side? How does it feel, to know you are no better than a trailing dog without a leash, defined by nothing but the blind love you hold for your master until your last breath, even as he tries to coat you away from a life you cannot be a part of, to know that your heart will break when he goes, and yet will never stop beating for him, that until you die you will feel the ashes of bitterness coating your tongue every time you smoke a cigarette, that every blue sky will remind you of him and that you will be helpless to do anything but hum a long forgotten song, the one you sang to his face in the boldest move you could muster, a memory you hold tenderly and hide on the inside of your ribs, something so precious to you that will remember it for decades, but that he probably has no recollection of, busy building new ones with a family you won't know from names or faces, in a life you're not a part of, and being beaten from Hell and back will feel a mercy compared to the ache between your ribs thinking about this will cast upon you, the poison coating your throat as you swallow your longing away: in no future does your love lead anything, in no future do you end happy despite all your sacrifices, and yet, like the fool you are, you decide to love him anyway. How could you not?

little drabble (is this a drabble??? i decided it is) about john, idk i was feeling silly..... Maybe it's his consciousness, his inner-saboteur talking to him? who knoooows :p

[wickmitz]

I decided to start talking about Wick and Rocky's relationship because I like their dynamics too, I like seeing Wick scared of Rocky and Rocky being aggressive with him, which is unusual because Rocky is rarely aggressive with anyone, but of course Wick is an exception to rule

Also my mini opinion about their possible relationship, I think that if Rocky didn't have to fight for his place, then he and Wick could become friends, or at least tolerate each other a little, I also see some superficial similarities, their gentlemanly and romantic natures, and their common love for explosions (remembering the quarrymen chapter), but this is my assumption, I think that I don't understand the characters' personalities well, so I can be wrong in this assumption, something like that. So, what do you think about their relationship?

for starters, i cannot thank you enough for this ask! as i’ve said previously, i have many thoughts on these two, so it’s nice to finally be able to share some of them. although given the extent to which i think about them, i apologize in advance if this is sloppy and sort of everywhere … while i’ll try to structure things the best i can, i cannot promise i’ll succeed! but hopefully this is an enjoyable reply nonetheless.

one of my favorite things about rocky and wick’s relationship is absolutely how aggressive rocky is towards the aristocrat ; he is prone to glares and cruel jokes and borderline hissing whenever the man is within his line of sight, or can be brought to a wailing-fit over the mere mention of his name from miss m’s mouth. there is a childishness to it, but a very prominent threat as well in spite of rocky’s usual incompetence. so he goes out of his way to posture around wick, readily lying and adorning himself with the gangster drapes he so badly wants to wear, in the hopes that it intimidates … will even badmouth wick’s family and make fun of his name and rock related obsession to mitzi, and so on so forth! yet all of this is very reminiscent of schoolyard bullying rather than anything too severe, though we as the audience understand rather quickly that rocky would bash wick’s head in with a tire iron if he could. ( translation : if it wouldn’t earn the tears or hate of a certain beloved mitzi may ) and it’s all very intense despite the absence of actual violence! and i understand why many fans see this as unusual for rocky and believe that it’s only wick who makes him act so aggressively, but i’d argue it isn’t really wick at all that prompts such scary reactions from him … and that rocky is a deeply angry character who’s a.) been boiling quietly for a long, long time and b.) has turned wick into a punching bag of sorts for this inner world of resentment and hurt. basically, when he’s judging the well-to-do or poking fun, his eyes don’t look at wick and actually acknowledge him as sedgewick sable ; instead this is a being, something vague and metaphorical, who threatens to upseat rocky’s permanence in the lackadaisy and steal away his savior, and he’s had a hand in the violinist’s misfortune for a long time.

obviously, rocky doesn’t think wick robbed him of his family twice over and made him homeless, but he is channeling the fear and anguish of those events into his loathing for wick, if that makes sense? it’s easier that way -- to finally have an outlet for everything bleeding inside of you, to be able to bite and claw at something without feeling conflicted or having to take personal accountability for your own mistakes … which is something that i think rocky does struggle with to a degree. he is sort of a finger pointer! his pain has to be worth something, it has to be for someone else ; spending years homeless and losing his last bit of family was for freckle, and the scrambling of his literal brain was for mitzi, and that means he can’t ever be angry with them! well, except that he is, somewhat, but he buries it deep down instead of feeling it. with freckle there is a sense of strain between them -- an air of ‘you owe me’ from rocky to freckle as he uses freckle to appease miss m, and he constantly pokes fun at his cousin too. it’s lighter than his jabs at wick, but there’s a constant pestering, a reminder of how good freckle has it : how he’s got the mom and the house and the job and the girl most notably. i don’t think rocky is intending to come across as mean, and to his credit he hardly does! but it’s rather clear to me that some part of him, some hidden and deeply hurt part, is rather indignant about taking the fall for freckle all those years ago. which he can’t understand, because how could he? he made that choice, he decided to take accountability for something he didn’t do because he loves freckle and knows it’d be so easy to believe this family tragedy was roark’s fault ; the devilish child he was, all troublesome and too broken to properly fit anywhere. so there is a disconnect born here, where rocky can’t comprehend that he’d be angry at freckle, so instead these not so great feelings are placed elsewhere and silently boil over time. and with mitzi … i don’t think he’s angry at her per se, but there is a frustrated and desperate chorus of : why him and why not me, when i’m the one out here dying for you? which is certainly unpleasant. of course, rather than allowing those feelings to be more aimed at miss m, whom he feels unloved by, he ( again! ) represses these emotions and allows them to fester into his greatest fears and fantastical complexes. i think there is a lot of other miscellaneous anger he could have towards others too … perhaps some part of him is sore upon seeing ivy’s normal lifestyle, watching her go to university and knowing that’s been taken from him. or an ache felt when hearing stories from zib and the band and how they used to travel successfully, living as nomads, and rocky is all too reminded of his similar lifestyle and how he couldn’t make it work as effortlessly. people with immense trauma are more prone to irrational anger and jealousy, to viewing everything around them as unfair and believing it’s even more unjust that so many people get to live comfortably while they’ve suffered. a situation that gets more messy when you’re someone like rocky, a man who’s willingly made choices that have harmed himself and wants to continue on with his smiling, bumbling fool of an act. he does not want to be angry, does not want to see it within himself, i think, which leads to an accidental increase of it.

all of this is to reiterate that wick is a scapegoat for rocky and nothing more. it’s why he’s rather hypocritical whenever it concerns the man. for example, it was stated by tracy that he looks down upon wick for his excessive presence at the bar, yet he appears to enjoy hanging out with zib -- who drinks just as often! he makes fun of how all wick ever talks about is rocks, when he himself is prone to poetry rambles that people find irritating or boring, and etc etc. this is also just a human nature thing, to critique someone you heavily dislike and even going as far as to belittle things you love or do in your own day to day because you just hate them that bad! but given rocky’s willingness to befriend anyone, it more so reeks of a dehumanization element. wick is every obstacle in his way, every divine force that threatens to send him packing again, so he is equal parts unnerved by wick’s presence and angry about it. it is mostly a fear response we are seeing, an emotion that’s morphed into long held resentment and anger. so his actions are extremely defensive, with him trying to push wick far away and keep him and mitzi separate, like some sort of animal attempting to ward off a threat that’s come too close to their home. despite the loaded animosity there, this hate has hardly reached its peak … but it shall only grow more intense as things continue onward i’m afraid, since as it stands ( in the comic at least ) rocky is at an all time low … and is ten times more desperate. i’d honestly say wick has become so warped in his mind’s eye that he can only strive towards ‘winning’ over the other man, because that’s all he can see anymore. i think mitzi implying that wick willingly helped her out, the intense head injury, and rocky’s fragile emotional state is exactly what pushes him towards premeditated murder in look-see. i don’t know how people perceive that arc, but to me it’s very clear that rocky actively sought to see the deaths of wes and fish that night. going as far as to lament that he’d be, “very disappointed if ( he ) dreamed them,” and purposefully luring the marigold duo away to have freckle pick them off. while you could argue that this was a smart move, in a gangster sort of sense, there’s still no denying that rocky is oddly chipper about the whole thing and is now seeking death out ; whereas before his methods of vengeance were just, well, ruining people’s livelihood but ultimately leaving them alive. this isn’t to discredit the fact that rocky is going through something! he is in a very muddled and dark place, mentally and physically, but even tracy has said that the head injury hasn’t changed rocky’s personality -- it’s only brought things to the surface.

source : q&a with tracy .

which, yeah! makes sense! head trauma can cause a person to become a wreck emotionally ( think mood swings, irritability, etc ) but it doesn’t completely morph someone either. personality changes may occur, but it’s not like you’re being rewritten entirely, you know? and given tracy’s old statement, it’s clear that ‘personality changes’ aren’t a side effect he’s suffering from. something that adds to my beginning statement, which is that rocky is a deeply angry and troubled person, more so than fans give him any credit for.

however, to touch upon your mini opinion about these two, i actually wholeheartedly agree that rocky and wick could become friends if circumstances were different. they do in fact have many superficial similarities, but one of the more prominent things they deeply share is never really belonging in the groups they frequent. this is more overt with rocky’s character, yet wick faces it too in subtle ways. the well-to-do crowd, seen through the investors, find the gentleman to be lacking in about every place imaginable ; to them he is an obsessive freak who cares too deeply for meager rocks, something they constantly mock him for, while he’s also being noticeably set apart from the rest of them … he seems younger than the investors, more excitable, passionate, and a little less experienced, and doesn’t seem to care for money or reputation as much as them either. there is a constant rubbing between him and them, where what he enjoys is seen as wrong, such as his love for the lackadaisy and his choice in paramor, a grieving widow with extremely dangerous ties. we also know that wick doesn’t have many friends at all, with the only two he has being lacy and church ( church is listed as such on his character profile, in a sort of tongue-in-cheek way ), both of whom work for or with him. they are obliged to hang around, and while they care in varying ways, they are prone to judging him just as much. honestly, it’s not shocking that wick seeks refuge at his chosen speakeasy! but even there he is rather distant from everyone else. he doesn’t speak to zib ever in the comics, nor seems all too close with viktor, ivy, or horatio … it is merely mitzi he is close to, even if he knows of the other people who work there. and, once again, wick very obviously doesn’t fit in. he is not gangster material, could never be an atlas may replacement, much less someone who could get his paws dirty in such an active way. so he has his feet in two different worlds and doesn’t know how to fit into either of them, or which one he actually wants to fit into more. i think in many ways rocky could relate -- these are two very lonely people who wish to belong somewhere and be accepted by some group or another but go about it in all the wrong ways. wick, who is too hesitant to fully commit to what he wants and is worse off for it, and then rocky, who obsessively throws himself against what he wants until he breaks every bone in his body. they also have explosives to bond over, lol, and other miscellaneous things like their taste in women i suppose … but this potential bond adds to the tragedy of lackadaisy, where we see two people who on every level should get along but we’re burdened with the knowledge that it’s an impossibility anyway, because there’s no removing the circumstance of which they’re in.

though i like to believe that despite wick’s fear of rocky, he maintains a kindness towards him regardless. i think his worries about rocky are rather surface level … he doesn’t know the boy at all, really, and thus can’t make heads or tails of him, hence him believing the lie in balderdash. so when i’m feeling particularly self indulgent, i like imagining a world where they’re forced together and sort of ‘stuck’ together ; to which rocky finally breaks and exposes his wounds to wick, in every sense of the word, and wick finally gets him. the aggression, the possessiveness of mitzi … it is all fear and desperation and a profound sadness, things he’d sympathize with. if rocky was able to explain that he loathes wick because if he saves the lackadaisy then mitzi won’t need him anymore and that it’s not fair that wick gets to so easily fix things when rocky would give his soul for his home, for her, and how wick could render every sacrifice he’s already made for naught by smoothing things over with some greenbacks and he can’t lose this, he just can’t --! … which, well, wick is too kind of a man to be able to do anything except feel awful, even though it’s not his fault at all. here we have two people who could coexist! and they should, since rocky logically can’t do every speakeasy job ( band member, rumrunner, mitzi’s shadow, also the guy who gets the money for the hooch ) by himself, just like how wick can’t save the lackadaisy with only his cash and limited booze stash. it’d be a joint cooperation, a collaboration between them, both equally important in the grand scheme of crime’s every turning wheel … but rocky’s rage and fear won’t let him see that, and likely never will. still, in scenarios where everything ends up alright for the lackadaisy and the people involved in it ( which is not how canon will go, by the way ), i fancy wick and rocky getting better within their relationship. rocky will always be prickly and quick to upset around the other man sadly, but perhaps he could see wick in a softer kind of light. or at least understand vaguely enough that he isn’t out to get rocky, so to speak. and then maybe wick learns that pancakes soothe rocky’s ire and poorly makes them anytime he wishes to talk to the man, and other fun things like that! but you should have more confidence in your character analysis skills, because you were spot on ( at least in my eyes ) about them potentially getting along if things were different. it’s certainly a fun aspect to play around with, and is important to note when discussing their relationship so you can fully understand just how warped rocky’s perspective on things are. and how unstable and traumatized he is too, of course </3 sidenote, but i also hope that throughout everything i’ve said here, or anything i’ve said before on my blog, that my love for rocky and my own sympathy for him comes across well enough. while he’s deeply flawed and i have no qualms discussing said flaws in depth, i also don’t think of him as some insane freak who’s evil at his core or anything like that. honestly, i adore analyzing him so much as a character because of how far down his issues go! he’s very well written, i’ll say, as is wick and many of the other characters, but i digress.

once more, thank you for the ask! i’ll end this here because i fear if i don’t i’ll start going in circles, since their relationship is so vast and very important for rocky in a character sense. hopefully i shed some more light on it though! i love these two to bits and pieces and i wouldn’t be half as invested in lackadaisy if their dynamic wasn’t so monumental -- at least to me.

[lacroixqueen]

embers and earth ch. 1 (zuko x jin angst)

Summary: jin finds out "lee" is actually firelord zuko, the new leader of the fire nation. angst and mental breakdown ensues

Word Count: 1.2k

Pairing: zuko x jin

Tags: angst, jealousy, yearning, prince x peasant

Author's Note: this was inspired by fan art but I for the life of me cannot find the artist's name just if you are out there just know you inspired this fic so thank u :v

Jin was absolutely furious the day that she found out. 

She remembered being over the moon the night before when the Earth King announced that the Hundred Year War was finally over. That the fire nation inherited a new leader who would forge peace between all four nations at long last. She recalled sleeping a little bit more deeply that night. A sigh of relief. A breath of fresh air. 

She even had a pep in her step when she ambled into the main marketplace of the Lower Ring in the morning. For the first time in her life, she didn’t need to worry about her safety. She remembered having to escape with her family when fire nation soldiers attacked her village when she was only a little girl. The fear in her father’s eyes. Her mother holding her tight and telling her not to make a sound when she cried. 

But today was a new day. A fresh start. 

She was picking out the ripest cabbage in the stall when she noticed a couple of Dai Li agents putting up posters around the square. She swore to herself she saw a glimpse of a face that looked all too familiar for comfort. She almost didn’t want it to be true. Because if it was, it would confirm too many questions she would stay up asking herself over and over again. 

A small crowd was already beginning to form around one of the posters. She eventually elbowed her way through and made it to the very front. And there it was. 

Firelord Zuko. Future of the Fire Nation. Forging an era of peace. 

Except it wasn’t “Zuko”, or whoever that was. It was Lee. The boy with the scar from the tea shop. She reached out reluctantly, as if she touched the poster he would come walking off the page. She placed the tips of her fingertips over the purple scar that ran across his triumphant face. 

But it’s not possible. Lee said he was of the Earth Kingdom. A traveling circus, was it? Now that she thinks of it, it did sound a little bit too barbaric to be real. But none of that mattered. 

She was fascinated by him. She hung onto his every word. Even though it’s not like he had much to say in the first place. 

After their date, she remembered how excited she was to see him again. She planned out an entire day with him in her mind, replaying the scenarios in her dreams like she was the director of a play. She recalled feeling a bit ridiculous about it, like some giddy fangirl. But she didn’t care. She had never wanted anything more in her life. 

But surprise quickly melted into confusion, which devolved into anger. 

How could he? she thought to herself, trying to piece together the puzzle but it still didn’t make any sense. 

The last time she tried to reach out to him, she burst through the doors of the tea shop, wearing her heart on her sleeve and ready to confess her undying love to him, without so much of a care in the world. But he was gone. In the blink of an eye, tossed away into the wind. 

“Where did he go?” she asked one of the workers, almost dissociated from reality. 

“To the Upper Ring,” he replied, sweeping some dust out of a corner. “His uncle got a job offer to run his own tea business. The Jasmine Dragon, was it? Yeah something like that.”

She felt her own blood run cold. She would only ever occasionally venture up to the Middle Ring, but Upper? She wouldn’t stand a chance. She would be ushered out as quickly as she came in. Not to mention she had no idea where this new store was even located. 

She was inconsolable for several days, of course, but in the back of her mind she knew she couldn’t cry forever. Because time heals all wounds, as her mother would say. 

And she eventually moved on, even though there was always longing within her that she could never quite shake. An ache that pulsated every time she remembered that she would most likely never see him again. 

Her thoughts were beginning to spiral at a rate of a million miles per second. Was he lying to her that entire time? Was that what he meant when he said “it’s complicated”? 

She paused, her entire body frozen. 

Was that how he lit up the lanterns at Firelight Fountain?

She couldn’t even process what was happening, but next thing she knew, she had already scrunched up that stupid poster, much to the crowd’s bickering and dismay, and shred it all up into several pieces. 

Tears were beginning to bud at the bottoms of her eyes. So that’s it. He was a firebender this entire time. But why lie about it? Why keep something so important from her, when he knew how much the fire nation had hurt her family.

Why was she acting like some sort of dramatic schoolgirl? It’s not like they were officially together or anything. It was just one silly date. Why did it mean so much to her anyway?

She walked briskly home, attempting, but failing horribly to conceal her tearstained face.

She opened the door to her modest home, without even bothering to close it gently, and stormed up the stairs to her bedroom. 

“Jin, were you able to get the vegetables I needed?” her mother called from the kitchen but she wasn’t even able to muster up a response. 

She flung herself onto the cot splayed out in the middle of the floor, grabbing her pillow and holding it close to her chest. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid, she kept telling herself. Why did she care so much anyway? It doesn’t even matter. None of it. 

Lee or Zuko, what difference did it make? 

He was still going to be a million worlds apart. Whether that was the Jasmine Dragon in the Upper Ring or the palace in the Fire Nation. 

She could weep and yearn for her entire life, and then what? He would just descend into the dilapidated shacks of the Lower Ring and sweep her off her feet? She knew the chance of that happening was zero to none. So why hope? Why cling onto this tiny shred of faith that had no meaning otherwise?

She played with the thought a little bit, after all, she was a hopeless romantic at heart. But the fantasy dissipated as quickly as it formed. 

It’s best to forget any of this ever happened, she decided for herself after an entire afternoon of contemplation. There’s no use in staying in the past. Besides, he probably never thinks of her these days. He’s busy running his own country, and creating a new era for the world. 

After all, why would some Earth Kingdom peasant ever cross the firelord’s mind?

[lo-shouldve-been-an-email]

Why hello there.

Listen,I don’t have much to say about the newest LO episode so here’s an ares ranking to go along with the other ones.

Spoilers.

Percy Jackson:

6/10

Look,Ares is a really weird figure when it comes to how the media presents him.

Almost always they present him as this sexist frat boy when in mythology he is:

A reported protector of mistreated woman.

The patron god of the amazons and was worshipped to the point that their leader had 2 babies with him.

Scored the GODDESS PF LOVE AND BEAUTY and there is no way you cannot convince me she doesn’t have some pretty high standards(even though apparently you can convince most of the writers on this list)

And as much as I love Percy Jackson,it is not devoid of crimes.

In the first book,he helps Luke/Kronos steal Zeus’ master bolt and Hades’ helm of invisibility as to start a civil war within the gods.id say this is a pretty good portrayal overall.

…until we get to the second book.

This myth will be very important so long story short:a daughter of ares got r*** by a son of Poseidon so Ares,like any reasonable and bloodthirsty god of war,fucking killed him.

After this,he got put on trial for murder as if he wasn’t the literal god of bloody war,and all the ladies vouched for him so he got set free.

Let’s just say,Rick Riordan didn’t know of this myth.

In the second book,there’s a scene where Clarisse La Rue,a DAUGHTER of ares talks to him through a magic mirror.

There,he threatens her and says he should have sent one of his sons on the quest.and keep in mind she is his FAVORITE DAUGHTER.

So yeah.

I don’t really like this portrayal but he gets points for bringing Clarisse and (technically)Frank into this world since I like them both.also the fact that Percy could tell he had beef with him even without having any other memory.

Lore Olympus:

1/10

FUCK THIS GUY

Remember when I said that modern Ares was more often than not a sexist frat boy?we’ll add “predator” and “Reddit nice guy” to that list because RS can’t write.

If in Percy Jackson Aphrodite had terrible standards here said standards are so much worse.

He spends MONTHS trying to seduce a 19-YEAR-OLD and then tries to marry her without her consent.

Also,sir,YOU HAVE THE GODDESS OF LOVE AND BEAUTY FULLY AT YOUR DISPOSAL AND YOURE PICKING A GURL WHO DOESNT EVEN KNOW HIW TO USE A COMPUTER????

Great.this guy is a predator,Reddit nice guy,AND stupid.

I remember saying that the only character who could get a lowers rating than LO Persephone being LO hades and then I remembered this fuck existed.

Fuck him.

Hades:

10/10

Your know when you see something and then immediately want to wash your eyes with soap?this is my soap.

He is my third favorite Olympian in the game,coming third to Hermes and Artemis.

So here’s a few reasons why I like him:

Doom anything with impending doom and the increasing doom damage boon does absurd amounts of damage.

Curse of nausea is one of the best duos in the game.

He respects woman.(oh look they finally Aphrodite standards)

His quest is stupidly easy and he was the first Olympian who’s bond I maxed out.

I know this joke has been made so many times but.he really is a Chthonic simp.

He doesn’t get too pissed if you don’t pick him is trial of gods.hes just here for the bloodshed.

It may be just the fact that almost every other interpretation of ares is bad,but I really like him.

Also Aphrodite wearing his face paint in hades 2-

OSP:

7/10

He’s cool.

I really don’t have much else to add except the helmet stays on during sex.

Gods school:

5/10

Welp Back to the incels-

Him straight up telling Aphrodite that he can do whatever he wants because she won’t leave is just.why.

I don’t get why people go to this myth,turn it around,and act as if they’ve done a service by making Ares miserable when in the myths it was already a good ending.

What is with the obsession with making ares a toxic ex boyfriend when in the myths him and ‘dite were literally love and war.

Another issue I have with gods school is the fact they made Aphrodite a Karen Smith when in the myths shes a Regina George but that’s a problem for the Aphrodite ranking.

Also I just realized the Aphrodite Hephaestus ares myth is the og “I fell in love with a bad boy story”-

Epic:the musical:

8/10

I don’t have a physical picture of him but I already like him.

The only time he he appears is during a bit of an unfinished song but he does bring up some pretty good points,like the Scylla thing.

Also the fact Athena didn’t directly refute any of his points but instead persuaded him with the fact that the moment Ody gets home the suitors are going to be fucked is surprisingly great.

Also can I just say how absolutely hyped I am for god games?Aphrodite’s part fucking rocks and I’m excited for Apollo and Hephaestus.

Also here’s my ranking for epic Hermes since I wasn’t part of the fandom back then:

10/10

*insert dolphin laugh here*

[marsprincess889]

Ketu placement and your most core self

So i want to talk about my personal experience about an artist I love, how she has been haunting me throughout my life and about how art imitates life.

I have ketu in jyeshta nakshatra,(and shoutout to all my 2002 babies with ketu in jyeshta, love u) and at age 10 i discovered an artist whose name i've heard of but never knew. I clicked on a song that youtube recommended called "Back to December" and i really do remember it so clearly, how natural it was and how i wasn't thinking as i branded Taylor Swift (sun in jyeshta) my favourite artist. I remember explaining passionately to my dad why I loved this song and how it differed from RED and how those songs were my safe space because while i had to try hard for anything else, this was natural and easy and just perfect.

Here i credit claire nakti, who you should know if you're interested in vedic astrology. She made a video about ketu and creativity and one's "daemon" that is really worth checking out.

Moving on, ketu is your creative, primal energy that is unaware. It's the headless body, the tail of the serpent, our past, where we come from, what is natural for us, past lives and untamed power. For example, as a ketu in jyeshta native I've always felt close to the hero archetype (I even wrote a song about that around that time), the poor orphan who rises into the world, the brave soldier who outsmarts everyone, the survivor, the winner against all odds, the grumpy independent individual, and even as a young girl, the archetype of the eldest daughter, which I actually am. I've always felt a little masculine at my core, and this explains why, as jyeshta is very masculine. All these archetypes I associate with jyeshta.

Jyeshta is known as "the best". You can only be the best if everyone else is worse, so we have the theme of competition. Jyeshta is located fully in Scorpio, and is very much about the occult side of life. It's shakti (power) is "to rise, conquer and gain courage in battle" (multiple sources). I know personally that jyeshta will never let you win an argument or back away from tension, the exception is only when there's no need to. My jyeshta moon cousin makes me so mad because he's always trying to lecture me to appear smart. That's definitely a more negative manifestation of its energy.

Anyways, in her video, claire nakti says that if you feel drawn to some art, it's been most likely created by someone with their primary placement in your ketu nakshatra. Now, this is not a rule, as I've definitely liked other artists, but Taylor's music felt too personal and custom-made for me, like she knew my taste and life from inside out.

Flash forward to summer 2019 and Taylor has released Lover, I'm sitting on a hill and cannot believe how Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince is so perfect, so me.

I went through my reputation era when she went through it, i went through a personal rebirth as she released Lover, I felt depressed and alone when I finished my school and she released folklore (tbh most of us did(SOLIDARITY TO CLASS OF 2020 MAKE SOME NOISE)) . Around that time I disovered Dickinson(a tv show) and here is my next point.(?)

Dickinson stars Hailee Steinfeld(jyeshta sun) as Emily Dickinson(also jyeshta sun), and it's about her life, yes, but mostly it's about Emily's creativity. There's a character called death that I believe relresents Emily's daemon(watch claire nakti's video for more clarity, but basically it's the opposite sex version of you, your creative self, and is represented by your ketu). Death appears whenever Emily feels different, like she needs time alone to herself and rides with him in his carriage, he also empowers her. Interestingly, Hailee Steinfeld's ketu is in Uttara Bhadrapada, which is Wiz Khalifa's(death) moon. That, in my eyes, solidifies the theory that he's representing her daemon.

I had discovered claire nakti recently at that time and also discovering this art that felt very personal to me was a little overwhelming, not to mention that i was going through a VERY stressful time in my life. As i grew so did my creative energy and I reached a certain block, but now I look at my art from that time and it's so... raw and pure and true. Tbh that time was extremely traumatic for me and it's traumatic to remember it but hey, I'm so much better now. I started my ketu antardasha at that time and it ended in february 2021. Still hard to remember yes, but I heard ketu dashas always are, you always come out more beautiful and true out of it tho 🙂.

So, be careful with ketu energies, they're not for us to misuse. There's always Venus after ketu so it's another reason to smile.

Please interact with me if any of this was interesting or felt familiar. Not all posts are going to be like this, in fact, I think they're gonna be more rare. This was a really serious post and brought up some stuff in me ngl. I really didn't deserve to go through the trauma, nobody does. But it's not all consuming, it was nothing really, it was just traumatic at the time. Anyways this is becoming a lot so wait for more aesthetic posts, I'm venusian after all 💖💖💖 love u guys, take care. 🤍

[sagesolsticewrites]

Love’s Light Wings - Prologue (“For stony limits cannot hold love out”)

John Brady x Juliet Thompson (OC)

Trapped in Stalag Luft III, Captain John Brady does his best to keep morale up, whether that be playing in the small dance band with the other prisoners or passing along the tidbits of information they catch with their hidden crystal radio. The letters they receive are best of all, though, and Brady is no exception— the letters from his girlfriend, with her ramblings about Shakespeare, home, and the goings-on of her high school English students, do more for his spirits than any saxophone solo.

Now he just needs to make it home to tell her… and hopefully ask her a very important question.

a/n: Here it is! The beginning of my darling Juliet's story. So excited for y'all to meet her, and a huge thank you to my bestie @winniemaywebber for letting me slip her OC Olive into this world! I love her so so much, y'all have got to go read the snippet Winnie posted for her story 👀 (and another huge thank you to Winnie and @ginabaker1666 for reading this over and over before I posted it 😅 love y’all!!)

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: none, I think? But please let me know if I missed anything!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Masterlist

March 1944

“Mail call!”

Every soldier crammed inside the small hut perks up at the familiar shout, the one bright spot in the long days, weeks, months spent inside Stalag Luft III. 

“Murphy!” the man calls out, doling out letters to each man as their name is called, “Cleven!”

“Brady!”

John Brady looks up from his well-worn, dog-eared copy of Romeo & Juliet, eagerly grabbing at the wrinkled envelope.

A grin spreads across his face at the return address, the neat cursive as familiar to him as his own name.

Voices eagerly proclaim who they’ve received messages from — “It’s my mom!” an eager, sun-bright announcement, “Marge” in Cleven’s soft, reverent tones.

“Who’s yours from, Brady?” Someone asks, knocking him in the arm.

He fumbles to protect the letter and keep the fragile book balanced in his lap, trying to buy time to will the blush in his cheeks away.

“Juliet,” he says softly, thumb running over the seal of the envelope as he gently opens it, releasing a familiar, though faint, wave of gardenias and vanilla.

Demarco signals for the boys to give the people who’ve received letters some privacy— as much as they can find in the cramped quarters, at least— and Brady nods gratefully as he moves to his bunk to devour the words from his girl.

Juliet Thompson had begun writing herself into Brady’s world the night they met at a small bar in Ithaca, on a cool fall night during his senior year of college. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of the pretty dark-haired girl sat at the nearby table filled with Cornell students, and his Ithaca College friends had jeered at him until he worked up the nerve to go talk to her.

Her friends had quickly paired off to dance, leaving her alone at the table, which she seemed perfectly content with. One of them leaned down to whisper something to her as they left, their eyes flicking over to where Brady had been staring, and he quickly averted his gaze as she waved her friends away with a giggle.

Quickly downing the last of his beer, he began to make his way over to her table, accompanied by a few encouraging claps on the back from his friends. 

“Um… hi,” he had said, hands behind his back so she wouldn’t see how he was nervously wringing them.

“Oh!” She looked up from the book she had surreptitiously hidden just under the table, turning to face him with a smile, green eyes sparkling, “Hello.”

That bright smile was the beginning of the end for John Brady as he tried to remember how to speak.

“I, uh… I’m John, I just, er… wanted to come say hello?”

“Well, mission accomplished,” she laughed, and oh Lord take him now, how was her laugh even prettier than her smile?

“Very nice to meet you, John. I’m Juliet.”

“Juliet,” he said, testing the syllables on his tongue. They were as sweet as her smile. “As in… Romeo &?”

“Yes,” she had replied, her red-lipstick smile growing as she joked, “The cost of having an English professor for a father.” 

“Well I think it’s very pretty,” he dared to say, the risk well worth it to see her preen slightly at the compliment. 

He nodded to the book in her hands, “What are you reading?”

He’d never been one for books, but anything, anything, to keep talking to her.

“Well, as it just so happens,” she turned the cover to face him, letting him see for himself.

“Romeo & Juliet,” he laughed, “Very fitting.”

“Why?” She asked, arching an eyebrow, “Because we go to different schools?” She added a theatrical gasp as she continued, “Two houses, both alike in dignity… Are we destined to become star-crossed lovers?”

“I— no, no!” John had rambled anxiously, “I just meant— because of your name—”

“I’m teasing,” she assured him, patting the seat next to her in a gesture for him to sit down, “Apologies if I’m being presumptuous, but you don’t know much about Shakespeare, do you?”

He had admitted that he didn’t, no. His interest had always been music, he’d never paid much attention to his other classes.

“Ithaca makes sense, then,” she nodded, clearly knowing the history of how Ithaca College had started as the Ithaca Conservatory of Music, “What do you study there?”

“Well, I play the saxophone,” he had replied, “and I’m not quite sure what I want to do long term, but I’m working towards my Bachelor of Science, and I like the idea of being a music teacher.”

His heart had done a funny fluttery thing in his chest, seeing how she perked up at the mention of being a teacher.

“I want to be a teacher, too! It’ll be my way of getting to keep talking about Shakespeare once I’ve finished my English degree,” she laughed.

The conversation had flowed easily after that, and before he knew it his friends were waving to get his attention, ready to head back to the dorms.

He had looked at her apologetically as he stood.

“Sorry, I’d better…,” he waved in the general direction of his friends, “ but hopefully I’ll see you around?”

“Hopefully,” she’d said, adding with a grin “If you’re ever in Cornell territory, I’m usually wandering the bookstore on Green Street, especially on Saturday afternoons.”

Today was Thursday. Was that… an invitation?

“In fact,” she said, holding out her book to him, “here. If you get a chance to read it, you can tell me what you thought next time we see each other.”

The words stuck in his throat as his eyes flicked from her to the book, but he’d managed to eventually ask, “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” she’d assured him with that sparkling smile, adding with a laugh “I’ve got plenty of copies, this is just the one that fit in my bag for tonight.”

He had a thousand more questions, a thousand more things he wanted to know about this girl— How many copies? Did she always have a book with her? What time on Saturday?— but he could tell his friends were getting impatient.

“In that case… thank you, Juliet,” he said, “And I’ll try to get it back to you as soon as I can.”

“I look forward to it,” she grinned, “It was very nice to meet you, John.”

“It was very nice to meet you, too,” he said, and he had spent the entire journey back to the dorms thinking about the way his name had sounded in her voice.

Back in his bunk in a prison camp in Germany, he can hear her voice in his head just as clearly as he could that night, as if she were standing right next to him.

February 14, 1944

Johnny,

I know it will be long past by the time this reaches you, but what kind of girl would I be if I didn’t wish you a Happy Valentine’s Day, my love. Hopefully you boys find some small way to celebrate— if the band is still going, perhaps you could play our song? I’m sure I could hear it from all the way over here.

I haven’t done much celebrating myself, granted— I’m saving that for when you’re home, darling— but I surprised my students today with a discussion about ‘Much Ado’ and ‘Romeo and Juliet’ rather than the grammar quiz they were expecting, which they seemed to enjoy. I believe one of the boys has a new sweetheart: he was very earnestly taking notes when ordinarily he’d be asleep halfway through class! He seemed particularly fond of R&J’s Act 2, Scene 2– the balcony scene, in case you do not recall. The look on his face as he heard “My bounty is as boundless as the sea, / My love as deep. The more I give to thee, /The more I have, for both are infinite.”…

Dad and Mama have gone for a night on the town— a bit of an early anniversary celebration on top of the usual Valentine’s Day festivities— while I’m off to pay a visit to your mother. I’ve been doing my best to keep her company since your father passed, and will do my utmost best to lift her spirits today. I know it’s difficult to get letters out, but do write her as soon as you can if you get a chance. It would do her a world of good, and I know it would be good for you as well. 

Oh, and do tell Benny that I’ve been keeping in touch with dear Olive. Fellow Shakespeare enthusiast aside, she’s been a true comfort— we have each other to lean on when we start missing you boys too much (though you know I’m always missing you, darling).

I hope and pray with all my heart that you’ll be home soon and we can spend our next Valentine’s Day together. While I adore Olive and your mother, ‘I do love nothing in the world so well as you’. Stay safe, my Romeo.

Sending all my love, a thousand hugs, and a million kisses,

Your Juliet

He reads and rereads her words, closing his eyes as he brings the paper to his nose to inhale the quickly-fading scent. With her being so far away he’ll take what scraps of her he can, the faded perfume, the heart after her signature at the end of every letter, but his mind can’t help but drift back to the last time he had her— on the train platform, just before he was shipped off across the Atlantic.

She’d sniffled, pretty green eyes welling up with tears as she’d forced a brave smile on her face.

“Write to me as often as you can, promise?” She’d said, smoothing out the lapels of his uniform, “I don’t care if you’re telling me what you had for lunch, I’ll wanna hear about it.”

“I promise, sweetheart,” he’d chuckled softly, thumb tracing under her eye to catch the first tear, “As long as you do the same. Keep me updated on what the kids think of our friend Shakespeare, yeah?” He’d bumped her nose playfully, hoping the inside joke would put her real smile back on her face.

And it did, for a moment, before there was a call of “All Aboard!” and her face crumpled and she had thrown her arms around him and it had taken every drop of strength to step away before they left without him.

“Honey,” he’d said softly, cupping her cheek as he took her in one last time, doing his best to memorize every detail— the dark curls framing her pretty, round face, her green eyes, the sweet floral scent of her perfume, the hand slipping surreptitiously into her purse to thumb nervously at the paperback she had inside— “Juliet. I’m coming home, I promise, pretty girl.”

“In one piece,” she’d sniffled, “Come home to me in one piece, please.”

“In one piece,” he’d agreed, leaning down to plant a tender kiss on her mouth. Pulling away just so their noses brushed, he murmured “Parting is such sweet sorrow—”

There was that smile again, and he couldn’t help grinning as she finished softly, “That I shall say good night till it be morrow.” She took a shaky breath as he stepped away, squeezing his hand tight, “I love you, Johnny.”

“I love you more, Jules.” He’d said, brushing a kiss to the back of her hand before he’d had to drop it to pick up his bag, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

The last he’d seen of her was her blowing a kiss in the distance as the train had pulled away, and him waving desperately, far past the point where she’d be able to see it.

He’d promised her he’d come home in one piece, and that’s a promise he intends to keep, even here, even now.

Home. When he thought of home before he met Juliet, it was always him with his parents at their little house in Victor, New York. But especially since he was assigned overseas, his idea of home isn’t so much a place as it is her. Her in his arms, her pretty green eyes lighting up as she rambles about Shakespeare, meeting for lunch in her classroom during her planning period, in the audience at one of his performances with the Army band… he wanted her to be his home, to be by his side ‘til death did they part.

Brady had toyed with popping the question in a letter— if they never got out of here, he wanted her to know that he wanted her that way, that she was his forever person.

But no. They were going to get out of here eventually, they had to, and he would do it properly— having asked her parents for permission, down on one knee, with grandmother’s ring— when she was back in his arms.

With that warm, golden thought settling to the back of his mind, he rolls back over to pass on her message to Demarco— with letters being few and far between, his friend will be happy to hear even the tiniest scrap of news about his girl.

[shatcey]

Smoke and mirrors

You know the feeling… a little more and you'll catch it. The thought, the meaning, the memory… the person. This feeling has settled very firmly in my heart. Alfons does everything possible to make it IMPOSSIBLE to figure him out… And it annoys as hell if I cannot understand something. So I keep stubbornly trying. As Einstein said: "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results". Probably I am insane. After all... I cannot stop thinking about him.

I really like Ellis, his design and voice are just perfect, I laugh with Victor and because of Jude, I sympathize to Liam, Elbert, and Harrison. I'm even grow to love William… But none of these feelings can be compared to what I felt for Alfons from the very beginning. Yes, they were negative emotions, but their strength surprised me the most. No other character has affected me that much.

My opinion of him has slowly but surely changed from absolute dislike and wariness to respect and adoration. I realized once again that saying "Love and hate are opposite sides of the same coin" exist for a reason.

But I cannot talk about this character without spoilers. I'll try to use as little as possible though. Slightly depressing… you've been warned.

At the beginning of his route, you think of him as an asshole. I think that's the most accurate word! He's tricking Kate, using his powers on her for his own (seemingly) entertainment, calling her his toy... But... the more Kate digs in, the more time she spends with him, the more obvious it becomes that he is - the way we see him - an illusion. The real person hides so splendidly that for a very long time I couldn't even get a glimpse of him…

He makes us believe that his every action has a very simple intention. He makes us believe that he is in fact a very simple person. And he does it so convincingly that for a very long time I couldn't figure out why everything he says seems so wrong. But it wasn't until his seemingly cheerful behavior began to slip away from time to time I suddenly realized… He always wears a mask that sticks so firmly that even if it slip away for a moment, it will immediately return. And it makes me very sad. A person who, for one reason or another, cannot be himself is an incredibly lonely person.

He's philosophy is very simple. If I don't like something, I can ignore it. If I cannot ignore it, I'll create an illusion and the world will become the way I want it to be. This is in fact a defense mechanism that allows us not to sink into depression. Switch the direction of your thoughts, set a real goal that you can achieve very soon, find something interesting to look/read/do... destract yourself. This method helped him survive when he was a kid, so it's not surprising that he still thinks of it as the only option…

Starting with the cat… no, a little earlier, with his very nasty prank, the story became unbearably heavy. It's like sinking into dark, deep water, and each new piece of information pulls you deeper and deeper, and it's pretty difficult to handle. There was no simple allegory of making a decision, as in William's route, to stay in the room or open the door and move forward… Alfie, as always, decided that it would be best for everyone... except himself. I still cannot think about it without tears. This man is merciless.

When I was reading his route, I remembered a very odd (I'm not even kidding, I can't remember anything more strange than this) Korean movie "Alice: boy from wonderland" (앨리스: 원더랜드에서 온 소년). By the way, I don't recommend watching this movie unless you are prepared for very dark and depressing thoughts and a lot of blood. One phrase from it, which has stuck in my head for many years, reminds me very strongly of Alfons.

It's not scary to d**. It's scary to be forgotten.

This is a concept that we don't think about very often, if ever. But Alfons considers this not just a probability, but an undoubted fact. And despite the absolute certainty of this, living with this oppressive thought all his life, he finds a way to stay sane. I'm not happy with his choice of coping. But I respect him for that choice.

I find his route extremely interesting for many reasons. It explain not mental illness or childhood trauma, but a defence mechanism. Some moments remind me of extremely strong scenes from other projects. And the story, like Alfons himself, is full of dark drama and hilarious scenes… It's full of contrast contradictions and at the same time incredibly solid and logical.

He's not perfect like Jude or Chev. He's not a sweet kid like Yves or Liam. He doesn't have a strong life philosophy like William or... I do not know... Johann (Faust, in case you didn't know)… There's a little bit of everything in him, just like in a real person. And just like any person he has oddities. He's totally unable to understand his own feelings and show affection (nothing surprising, given his past). He avoids difficult topics by laughing it off, hides behind lies… And this constant similarity with absolutely normal real people is snowballing to such an extent that it's really hard to believe that he's NOT one of us. I don't want him to be alive, I'm absolutely sure HE IS a living person.… This is probably the best evaluation a writer could ever get.

But maybe it's just me. Maybe I just feel some kind of connection to Alfons or Kate, or to the story itself. Surprisingly, I don't look at this story from the outside, I really feel like I am Kate. And maybe that's why Alfons is so firmly entrenched in my heart…

(I cannot believe how much time I spend writing and polishing this. I can almost hear him calling me a fool for wasting my time on him. Don't worry, babe.… Now it's my turn.)

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🔝 Start page 🔝

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[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

pt X good omens whatever the HEAVEN s1e5 was

LAST DAY OF ANTIBIOTICS BABY CAN I GET A WAHOO? In that enthusiastic spirit and listening to my gay playlist that I called BOYS, let's have my summary of whatever I remember from the livestream of season one episode five, which ain't a lot:

In the few minutes break between episode 4 and 5, everyone urges me to get more emotional support fruit. I find a second apple and some sugarcane.

Some of you don't know how to eat sugarcane. It's simple, baby. You bite and suck, blow out the fibres, and swallow the juice. Suck, blow, swallow, guys, it's hard but it's worth it.

I was still howling over the books in the bookshop, because fuck me I have books that are from the mid 1900s and IF THEY BURNED I'M BURNING THE WORLD.

Barely a few minutes in I've already finished the remaining orange watching Crowley break down over the burning bookshop. Crowley can't find Azi and I start eating the apple too (I was saving apples for being gay gn over Crowley, guys, LITTLE DID I KNOW THE PAIN).

I make a reference to driver's license looking at Crowley being sad in their car. For some reason everyone calls me a prophet.

Tracy who is the kinky lady has plushies to make a bedroom seductive. I'm too ace for this. I hug my IKEA snake, Draco.

The Antichrist goes batshit poor Adam. There are some rictus smiles, horror movie shit, and he insists that his friends are having fun. It is similar to how this fandom kidnapped me. You're having fun, Asmi, you say. This is fun.

There is more vague hetero sex. I cannot deal with the genre whiplash. I am still too ace and gay for this.

The apple is over. Finally, Aziracrow gets screentime, but then I watch Crowley's voice break over the residual emotional of losing his best friend, and Aziraphale maybe not realising that the friend was him. My eyes are burning and now everyone is demanding emotional support fruit and making sad headcanons. Fuck you all.

Aziraphale possesses a lady, which is normal, and summons spirits, which is normal. I insist that I am not crying over flatulence, and @thescholarlystrumpet who organises the stream tells me to put it in my tumblr review. I'm not crying over flatulence.

CAN I A WAHOO. Aka Crowley fucking things up for future Crowley yet again.

Aziraphale is THE southern pansy, THE posh gay.

MAGGOTS ARRIVE. IT'S YOU GUYS YAY! Everyone is disgusted except me, because I love you guys, even if you are slimy.

Crowley is now stuck in traffic and simmering with the not-yet-zombie in the passenger's seat. There is fire around London.

Through the power of Manifesting, Crowley drives the bentley through the fire to get to Tadfield. Dream it to be it, guys. With Barbie Crowley, Anything Is Possible. Crowley is now literally a flaming gay (gn).

Friends leave Antichrist. Antichrist sad. Dog leaves Antichrist. Antichrist heartbroken, Antichrist now back to being baby.

Through small town directions, Aziraphale still possessing lady arrives at Tadfield. Crowley in all her flaming glory arrives too. The kids are badasses, riding in on cycles. I am on my second apple. Crowley immediately recognises Aziraphale.

They are now at the American base. Wahoo, bitches. See ya next post my lovely maggots.