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vase-of-lilies · 8 months

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❀ Pairing: Dark!Vampire!Wanda x Vampire Hunter!Reader(F) (Some Wolf!Bucky x Reader x Wanda)

❀ Warnings: Non-con, dubcon, violence, vampire-esque content, dark!Wanda (she’s a warning…), blood and gore, draining of a body, biting for sexual stimulation, overstimulation, fingering, violence, swearing, use of a dagger, knife play, forced to strip, getting bitten by a vampire but not turning into one, bondage (restraints from ceiling), a punishment, pet names (Sweetheart, little one, etc.), slight somnophilia, spanking, and more!

❀ This is my second entry for @eloquentreverie ’s dusk till dawn challenge! The sentence I chose is:

“Take off your clothes. Slowly. I want to watch you.”

❀ Disclaimer and Authors Note: The pictures only represent aesthetics and themes. There is no certain skin color, body type, ethnicity, or description other than Y/n and “you”. The pictures go to their rightful owners on Pinterest, and the comic-style pictures belong to the beautiful artist Jenifer Prince.

❀ I hope you like this addition to the collection of Creatures and Foreigners! I would die and be resurrected for vampire!wanda. Literally. This is a re-write, since the original was in 3 parts. To keep this organized, I just made it one post!!

It was time… It was time to catch the creature that was terrorizing the beautiful village you live in. Yorkshire is where you are from, where your beautiful home stands. It's a small cottage with a perfect view of the mountains gracing the East, the sunrises your favorite part of the day. When the sun sets in the west, it's when everyone locks their doors with iron chains, keeps a wooden stake by their beds, a garlic circle around their homes, and prays to the [whichever you believe in] and hopes they survive the night.

You finally had the will to change this. To help the people you love feel a little safer at night who were terrified of the vampire who lived in the castle on the South Hill. The dark bricks and stones towered over the town, casting a large shadow over everyone at dusk. That shadow was the sign that it was time to prepare for the worst, for the creatures of the night to begin hunting for their midnight snacks. And lastly, for the vampire to find her next source of blood.

For Wanda, she always loved human blood but never complained with cow, or sheep blood. It was the blood of a fighting soul that tasted best to her. There was something so satisfying watching the life drain from someone’s eyes once their body is empty of their blood. However, whether it was a man or a woman, she loved to torture them before she killed them. She would keep them locked up for days, weeks even, and keep them on their toes. She would feed them one day, and then break their legs the next. She was a storm that you never want to be stuck in the middle of.

Packing your sash full of what you need was not a challenge at all. Each piece of equipment had a slot that it belonged to. One for your wooden sword, a small chain of iron links, garlic garland, iron cross bow, and last but not least your gun with the solid iron pellets ready to kill any vampire you see. It was not very heavy as one would think, having it around your shoulders made it very easy to access everything as well as keeping it light for you to carry around the woods.

Wanda, being one of the only vampires in Yorkshire, knew she was being hunted. She could sense the tension coming closer to her castle every step you took down the newly stoned and paved pathway. She could smell your villager blood from miles away. It was a scent she could decipher in a split second. Cow blood smelled cold, almost like a winter morning. But human blood smelled like the moon had created it, making it much more appetizing than a mere animal.

~~~~~~~

You could see the dark bricks of the castle from a far, your wooden sword drawn and ready to strike anything in its path. The forest became silent, indicating a predator was near and hungry. Leaves were heard crunching under fast footsteps coming closer and closer by the second. Your head whipped from right to left, not knowing where these footsteps were exactly.

“Show yourself creature!” You shouted into the darkness of the forest.

“Who are you?” A dark voice echoed in your surroundings, not pointing in a certain direction.

Not shying from her, you answer honestly. “Y/n, of Yorkshire.”

She chuckles, “Ah, so townsfolk, hm?” She watches from behind a tree as you struggle to find where her voice is coming from. She senses your fear, so to make matters worse she drags her nails against the trees creating an ear-splitting noise, making you drop your weapon and cover your ears.

“Ah!!” You shout in pain. As you pull your hands from your ears your skin is coated in the sticky, crimson liquid. “Your time has come, y-you evil creature!”

Wanda chuckles at your struggle, “My time will never come… but yours have.”

Your brows furrow and you reach for your iron bar. You smirk as you hear the hissing of the vampire, her power of sounding everywhere fading significantly, pointing in the direction of where she could be. “Don’t fucking come near me!” She growls, hiding behind another tree.

“Oh, so I found your weakness…”

She whimpers in response, “Don’t t-touch me!” Lighting your lantern, your eyes catch movement, and you grab the chainlink and throw it to where you see her.

“Aha! Finally!” You walk over to her, smirking at her as she falls to the ground. “You are going to grant me a fortune…” You say darkly, looking at her with false pity in your eyes. Around you, a growling catches you off guard. Looking around, you don’t see anything immediately, but what Wanda says churns your stomach.

“Y-your in t-tr-trouble.” She stutters, moving away from you slightly. Wanda smirks and you jump back in fear as a large black wolf shields the vampire. Grabbing your dagger, you lunge forward with no fear.

“She’s mine!” You growl, slashing the wolfs shoulder making him whimper but he pushes through and pounces on you, biting your leg and ripping a chunk of skin off. You scream in pain, and scamper back as He rips the chains off of Wandas body.

The last weapon you grab is your gun. You cock it back and point it at both the vampire and the wolf. “Stay back!” A whimper leaves your throat as you scoot back again, your leg dragging against the damp and cold soil below you.

Wanda glares at you her eyes turning red and a red light appearing at her hands. Before you can pull the trigger, she flings the gun from your hands and your head follows it. Like lightning, your sash of tools was cut from your body and you were flung over Wandas shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Your arms and uninjured leg flail as you fight against the strong grip of Wandas arms around you, and as you look down from over her shoulder you see the wolf looking up at you smugly. He was with her all along, he wasn’t trying to take her too… You sighed and continued to struggle, all the way to the castle, down two flights of stairs, and through a door to a dungeon full of cells. She throws you onto a dingy cot in the corner of a cell, cuffs your wrists with metal cuffs that don’t hurt her, and leaned against the bars.

“Let me go you monster!!” You pull the chains connected to the wall hoping to break them. But to no avail were you able to get out of the rings that locked your wrists.

“Not happening.” Wanda states, staring at you from the edge of the cell. She looks at your leg and her hands turn red once again. You were scared as you felt the tingle in your leg, watching in awe as the chuck of skin missing from your leg was miraculously healed with only a few scars. It was just like the townsfolk said, she will torture you one day, and heal you the next. Making you unaware of what is going to happen next.

You growl and shout at her. “What do you want from me??” You look up at her, tugging and pulling against the chains again.

A hard slap across your face shuts you up, and you fall against the cot in surprise. You feel the hand shaped sting and a bruise already starting to form from how hard she hit you. “You tried to kill me and wanted to kill my baby!” She rubs soft circles against the wolfs slick black fur, and he whines softly as she grazes over the cut on his shoulder.

You look at the wolf who is now eye level with me and you glare as you see your blood staining his teeth. “F-fuck you.” You whisper at him, scooting back as you feel blood dripping from your nose, the act of the slap causing trauma to your nose as well.

“Oh don’t listen to her baby,” Wanda says calmly as she kneels next to the wolf beside her. “You’re such a good boy.” She smiles as he lets out a happy ‘arf’ and you roll your eyes at them.

“He’s a dumb dog.” You scoff, leaning against the cool brick wall as you hold a piece of your dress against your nose. To your surprise she slaps you again, making you whimper once again.

“He’s not just a dumb dog!” She shouts, outraged at your utter disrespect towards her loyal friend. As she was about to lunge at you, a gust of wind blows against your body and you look up to see a greek god of a man, who was formerly the wolf. You yelp in astonishment, never thinking that a werwolf and a vampire would ever be on the same team.

“Mistress, she’s not worth it.” The man says, holding Wanda by her hips as she tries to scratch and punch at you. You scoot impossibly further from them, and you see Wanda visibly relax as the man holds her hips in his hands.

“Bucky, she hurt you… she has to pay.” She whispers, ghosting her fingers over the wound on his shoulder.

He only chuckles and cups her cheek. “Hey, it’s ok… it’ll heal up in no time. She’s weak, it barely hurt.” He kisses her lips, and gently runs his fingers through her hair. You growl and you look away from them, telling yourself internally that you are strong and that you almost had the vampire until the stupid dog showed up.

She only sighs, staring up at him. “Such a good boy, protecting your mistress…” You mute them in your head as you look around, trying to find any way of escape. Pulling against the chains keeping you locked to the wall was not an option anymore, and fighting was practically useless against either monsters. Maybe it would be a good idea to cooperate. NO! No, don’t fall for her enchantment. She is evil.

As Wanda sends a final slap to Buckys ass, he leaves the cell and you jump at the door slamming. It was when you were alone with Wanda that your fear really kicked in. “Hmm… look at you all scared.” She saunters over to you, a sadistic smile pulling at her lips. Chills are sent up your spine and a shiver shortly follows. You are vigorously pulling at the chains, whimpering every inch she comes closer to you.

She sits down on the cot next to you, grabbing your newly healed leg and digging her finger nails into the sensitive skin. “Ah!! St-stop! Stop!” You sob, trying to push her away with all your might. She doesn’t budge and chuckles.

“Now why would I do that?” She raises her brows at your reaction, smiling as you writhe against her, your whimpers music to her ears. She is arouse by your writhing and she digs her nails even deeper, tears free-falling down your cheeks. She ignores your pleas, shaking her head in disappointment. “You hurt my love. I certainly won’t stand for that.”

You turn your head, your teary eyes focusing on the lines of the bricks stacked around you in your small cell, trying to ignore the pain in your leg. “What d-do you want f-from me?” You ask in a shaky voice, trembling under Wandas touch. You are confused as you feel warmth on your leg where her fingers had drawn blood.

“You taste so fucking good…” She whispers. You furrow your brows and you realize she had tasted your blood. You pull at the chains, managing to kick her away from you as you struggle. She growls, having none of what you are giving her. She pounces on top of you, making you groan in pain. “Be grateful I didn’t kill you!”

A pained whimper makes you resent her even more, so you gather spit in your mouth and spew it onto Wandas face. She wipes the spit away in disgust and smacks you across the face again, much harder this time. Your vision becomes blurry and your head feels like it is in a daze. “Please, l-let m-me go,” You stutter, whimpering as you feel helpless looking up at her from your position below her.

She ignores you and she runs her nose against your neck and to your ear “No,” she whispers, her fangs barely grazing your neck. With a smirk, she closes her jaw, puncturing your skin with her teeth. You scream in pain, your back arching against her as you struggle underneath her.

It takes everything for Wanda to not drain you, so she pulls back reluctantly. “Shit, you taste like heaven,” she moans at the taste of your blood, smiling as she licks up the puncture wounds adorning your neck. “Mmm, you look better like this…” She says, looking at your writhing and twitching body on the cot. She bites her lip, her pussy starting to form a slick spot on her under garments. Her smirk scares you, and you stare at the ceiling trying to pull at the chains but failing miserably.

“Please, n-n-no mo-more,” you curl against yourself, trying to hide your vulnerable form from your captor. She smacks your thigh, making you turn around on your back again. She chuckles darkly and bites her lip once again.

“Look at you…” She says, not pitying you one ounce. It takes much strength to try and sit up, but you manage to do so with a lot of pain. Bowing your head into her lap, you beg her to make the pain stop.

“Please! Pl-please it hurts s-so b-b-bad!” The bite pulses in pain, my blood pumping to try and close the wound. Sobs and whimpers make your body shake, and Wanda takes notice to her puncture wound on your neck. She sighs and begins to heal it, gently lifting you up.

“It’s ok…” She says, rubbing small circles on your back as she lays you down on the pillow at the top of the cot. You quietly thank her as you feel the wounds on your neck close, the pain ceasing completely.

“Why are you keeping me here?” You ask in a raspy voice, confused as to why she hasn’t killed you yet. She looks at you with a tilt of her head, thinking as to why she is keeping you. She smiles to herself and comes to a conclusion.

“Because I like you. I don’t like that you hurt my baby, but I do like you.” You shook your head. Because she liked you? What is that supposed to mean? Not wanting to be on her bad side, you take the time to apologize.

“I-im sorry I hurt him. I was trying to make my town finally proud of me.” You sigh softly, scooting away from her and pulling at the chains again.

“It’s ok sweetheart, you’re safe with me.” She whispers.

“Dont you understand that Im scared of you?” You whimper, “Y-you bit me, a-and hurt me,” Your eyes meet hers, your confusion making you angry. “What is my purpose? A-am I just a toy? What am I?” You ask her, salty tears rolling in beads down your cheeks. She sighs and wipes the tears from your skin, giving you a soft kiss on the nose, ignoring your questions.

“You’ll get used to me, I promise.” She smiles and pulls away.

Your eyes narrow, as she stands up, leaving you. “What am I? Pl-please tell me!” You ask desperately, standing up with her but only making it so far until the chains pull you back.

“Ill see you tomorrow, sweetheart.” Wanda says with a soft smile on her lips, closing the cell door and locking it. She makes her way up the stairs, ignoring your screams and profanities as she locks the dungeon door behind her and hanging the keys on the hook right next to it.

When the sun rose the next morning, you waited anxiously for Wanda to come back down. Maybe she forgot about you, or doesn’t want to deal with you. What you dreaded most was the fact she may use you as a human blood bag and kill you. You didn’t fear death, you feared the feeling of your blood draining slowly from your body. The blood bubbling at every bite she leaves on you. The fear blocked the fact that it was morning, and she was most likely asleep in the darkness of her chambers above you.

As you waited, you too fell asleep, dreaming of a place where you would rather be. Safe and in your best friends presence. “Steve… I miss you so much,” You whisper before fully dozing off. Deep in sleep, you don’t hear the metal cell door open and Wandas soft footsteps enter the room. You were too focused on staying warm in your shivering state.

Wanda took note of your cold and shaking body, so she waved her hand and a soft, furry blanket appeared around your body. She smiled as you cuddled into the soft material and watched you sleep for a moment. Falling out of her staring trance, she sits down on the cot next to you. She gently rubs your back whispering, “Sweetheart? Sweetheart, wake up.” Instinctively you lean into the soft hand against your back, but the memories bombard their way back into your head making you sit straight up and scoot all the way back.

You stared at Wanda with wide eyes, scared of her further intentions. You are confused as she hands you a bowl of cut up fruit and vegetables, curious as to where she got this food. “Here you go, eat up.” You furrow your brows and look down at the fruit, picking at it. Fishing for some type of sign of poison. Wanda just chuckles and leans against her hand as she watches you. “I promise, its not poisoned. You need to eat, especially after I drank some of your blood yesterday.”

Exhaling the breath you were not aware you were holding, you pick up a ruby, red strawberry. Ripe and firm to the touch. You close your eyes and let out a satisfied hum as you take a bite, the sweet tasting strawberry surrounding your tongue with glorious flavor.

Wanda moves closer to you, sitting right next to you as you eat. She nuzzles her nose against your neck where two little fang marks sit proudly. You don’t take notice of her fully, the delicious fruit distracting you from Wandas intrusions, even lifting your head up in response. She hums a small chuckle and kisses your cheek, “You are so beautiful, little one. So beautiful.” Freezing your chewing, you swallow and look up at her in slight surprise, her comment catching you off guard.

Butterflies flutter in your belly at the closeness between the two of you, her warm breath against your lips and chin. “Do you really think so?” You whisper, not believing what she is saying at first.

She nods, “I do, you’re so pretty…” She whispers back, kissing the soft skin of your neck. “And you smell so good, little one.” She hums as her nose moves up your neck, her lips pressing soft kisses in between soft sniffs. The gentleness of her gestures makes you drop the glass bowl in your hands, causing it to shatter against the stone floor.

Both you and Wanda jump and she pulls away quickly. “Damnit, I can’t get many bowls or plates these days.” She murmurs, starting to collect the broken shards.

“I-im sorry, I-it slipped,” You stutter, kneeling down to help pick up the shards too. You were too quick with the glass, cutting your finger in the process making you pull back with a wince. A small amount of blood oozes from the small cut and Wanda freezes, her pupils blown full at the smell of the exposed blood.

She holds back, grabbing a small cloth from her dress and hands it to you, “Here.” She says curtly, but she is stopped. She tilts her head as you hold your hand out.

“I can see how much you want it,” You say softly, wincing as she gently holds your hand in hers.

“Are you sure?” She asks hesitantly, softly moaning at the smell as she gets closer. You nod and she brings your finger to her lips, licking the wound and emitting a low hum at the taste. Her eyes close and you look at her curiously. She is in a euphoric state, she is vulnerable and not paying attention when she is drinking your blood. Slowly you begin to become dizzy, the amount of blood coming from your finger increasing by the second.

Before you can warn her, you fall against the mattress, fully losing consciousness at the loss of blood. Wanda sighs, laying down beside you on the bed. “It’s ok, I got you…” She whispers, her hand roaming the front of your body softly. Her hands cup your breasts, her finger grazing your pebbling nipple from under the fabric of your dress. Wanting to feel more, she unties the twine keeping the leather vest of your dress on and she smiles as it comes loose, your breasts showing themselves under the thin tunic.

She reaches down your tunic, rubbing your bud softly between her fingers. Her lips kiss your neck, moving slowly down to your slightly exposed back. You feel her as you sleep, but you can’t comprehend anything to stop her. A small whimper exits your mouth and she pulls away for a moment, waiting for you to settle down again. Once your breathing is even, she explores further, lifting your shirt from your tucked in skirt.

Her hand smoothes over your belly and just over the waist band of your undergarments, pushing under the fabric and to your soft curls underneath. She smiles as she buries her face in your neck, her fingers softly opening your petals and gently running her fingers over your slit. As she holds your folds open, she rubs circles over your clit, making you moan quietly in your sleep.

As she pleasures you, she bites your neck softly only sucking a small amount of blood this time. Your gasp makes her smile around the wound on your neck and it makes her want even more of you. Her finger moves faster around your sensitive bud, your back arching against her front. Your legs open even more as you lay your head back against her.

As she moves even faster, a strong and mind numbing orgasm washes over you, pushing you over the edge. Your legs shake in your sleep, and Wanda smirks as she removes her fingers from your undergarments. She brings her fingers to her mouth and hums in delight. “Absolutely delicious, my love.” She whispers in your ear, smirking as your breaths calm down from pants, to a normal rhythm again. Her hand moves to your breasts again, just holding the soft flesh in her hand and palming against them.

She sighs as she senses you waking up, and makes sure everything is back in order; your shirt tucked into your skirt, tunic back in place, and laces on your leather vest tied with a bow at the top. Sitting up, she frowns at the raw skin and dried blood from around your wrists and unlocks the cuffs. She wraps her hands around the raw flesh and heals them in an instant, kissing them softly.

She has hope that when the sun sets and the moon rises, you will no longer be in pain. “Mm, such a beautiful girl…” She whispers before she leaves the cell for the night, not thinking twice of the unlocked chains and completely forgetting to lock the cell and dungeon doors.

~~~~~~~

You were only asleep for a small amount of time, waking up without Wanda anywhere to be seen. You sigh and sit up, feeling quite odd in your lower regions. However, the lack of metal around your wrists made every other thought disappear. Being able to walk around the cell felt nice, but your curiosity took you further. Right to the door. As you pushed, you were even more astonished as it opened.

Pushing your luck even further, you walk up the spiral staircase to the door of the dungeon. With a gentle nudge, it squeaks open to reveal a large corridor, torches lit on each wall and blood red curtains hanging from each tall window. You were trapped and you were finally free, but the first thought you had was, ‘Where is Wanda?’

You wandered through the hallways, finding your way to the great hall, you come across a grand staircase. Alining the stairs was beautiful red and gold carpet and above it was a dark and spider web-covered, crystal chandelier. It shimmered as the fired torches flickered around the hall. You start to make your way upstairs, and as you walked down yet another hallway, you are stopped by a growl behind you and a searing pain in your leg.

You instantly scream in agony, struggling against the iron jaws of the werwolf. He didn’t let up, even after hitting his head as he dragged you down the hall and to a bed room. Wandas bed room. Your eyes widen and you dig your nails into the carpet, only resulting in bleeding fingers. As you entered her room, you look up in fear as the woman towers over you.

“Well, what do we have here?” Wanda tuts, looking down at you.

You sob loudly as the wolf digs his teeth into your freshly healed leg. You yelp and you look up at her, “I- I wasn’t going t-to es-escape! I wa-wa- AHHH!” The wolf bites down even harder and you try your best to hit him, but it doesn’t phase him.

“Buck, stand down…” She says, calling off the dog. She grabs you harshly by your shirt and drags you to her bed, throwing you on the mattress. “Don’t lie to me!” She growls, glaring at you as you push yourself away from her, scooting to the top of the bed.

At this point you weigh out your options: One, you try to escape and get killed by Wanda, “Buck” the dog, or your village when you get back with no vampire. Or two, you stay here and get food, possibly a lover, and a pet dog. The latter sounded more than enjoyable and you break saying, “I- I promise! Th- the chains we-were off me wh-wh-when I woke up! P-please! I- I don't want t-to leave!”

“Are you sure?” She asks with a growl, crawling towards you with a scowl on her face. “If you’re lying, I’ll feed you to him…” She says, pointing to Bucky who falsely lunges at you just to scare you. As you jump back from him, Wanda only chuckles.

“I-I’m not lying! Y-you’re so kind, a-and fed m-me!” You try, and Wanda sits down across from you on the bed. She grabs your ankle and pulls you to her. Her hands glow a bright red and the pain subsides from your leg again. You sigh in relief, hoping that she will forgive you.

As she looks at you, she shakes her head and sighs softly. “I believe you, but there will be consequences.”

Letting out a breath, you nod in understanding. “Y-yes I understand, please forgive me, i-it won’t ever happen again.” You sob, following her gentle movements as she pulls you to her arms. Your head falls onto her chest and she comforts you as you calm down.

“I forgive you, little one,” She whispers, kissing your head softly and tickling the skin of your arm. “Now let’s go, I need to punish you.” She says, sitting up. Suddenly cold as ice again. Her bipolar emotions confuse you, just like the village said, she keeps you on your toes.

She hardly grabs your wrist and pulls you down the flights of stairs to the dungeon again. You swiftly follow her, trying to keep up with her fast walking pace. Once in the dungeon, she pulls you to a different portion of the room, one full of many torture devices now considered controversial to use. You freeze as you take in the new surroundings and you jump as the bars slam closed and lock behind you.

Wanda steps into the far wall of the room and grabs her tools she desires: Rope and a wooden paddle. You stared in horror at the tools as she lays them down on the table next to a long chain connected to the ceiling. From a hidden sheath on the side of her thigh, she pulls out a sharp dagger, pointing it at you.

She stalks towards you, holding the knife at the height of your neck. Backing up, you whimper as your back hits the cold, metal bars, Wanda then putting the tip of the blade against your neck. “Strip.” She says, pulling away from you. Frozen in fear, you don’t account for her command and you stare at her. To make you cooperate, she sends a glowing ball of energy towards you making you duck in response.

“Im going to repeat myself, and you better listen this time…” She says in a dark voice, only warning you once. “Now, Take off your clothes. Slowly. I want to watch you.”

Swallowing your pride, you obey her. Untying the twine holding your vest over your torso, untucking your tunic from your skirt, pulling the string from around the back, and finally the removing of it all. Wanda was in fact a very patient women, and she made that clear. She growls at your speed and makes her hand light up with energy again. “Slower…” She says. Once again, you obey.

One piece of clothing after another, no less than four (4) seconds between each. Finally, you were down to your brazier and pantyhose. Wanda watches at you, a sadistic smile on her face as she saunters towards you with the dagger in hand. She grabs your wrist and pulls you to the middle of the floor. Of course you struggled. Wanda was angry, and you had only seen a sliver of it.

“Good girl… hold your wrists together.” She says, holding the dagger to your neck again. You felt immense fear as you held them together, and sucked in a breath as a tendril of red energy wraps its way around the dagger keeping it against your neck. Wanda moves around you, grabbing the rope from the wooden cart settled near by. She comes to your front again and begins to wrap a few rings of rope around your wrists. Circle by circle of rope, you were rendered unable to move your hands anywhere, only your arms could move up and down.

You whimpered as Wanda wrapped a heavy padlock around the middle of the rope and easily pulled your arms up to the hook hanging above you. She steps away, taking the dagger with her and moves to the far wall. Using her strength, she pulls the chains connected to the ceiling up higher than it was before, pulling you up with them. You arms pulled against your body and when she finished locking the chains in place, you could barely graze the floor with your toes.

Whimpers left your mouth and you could’t hide the fear anymore. Salty tears fell down your cheeks and landed on your chest and the floor. With false pity, Wanda pouted her lip. “Aw, don’t cry little one… It will only hurt a little.” Her voice was full of lies, and you knew this pain would be excruciating.

Tears fell down your cheeks, but Wanda paid no attention to your emotions, only your reactions to the sensations she was going to give you. In an instant, she had cut through the thin material of your brazier leaving your breasts exposed to her. She smiles and leans down, kissing the ample skin of your right breast. Your nipples harden in the cold atmosphere of the room, Wandas mouth and hand going straight to them. She rubs, licks, sucks, rolls, and pleasures your buds, pushing a burning desire in your lower belly. She could sense this and smirks as she runs the knife down your torso.

She turns the knife against your stomach, tilting it and smirking at the small bit of blood pooling at the surface of the small cut. “Mm, I can smell you… my god you smell so fucking good, little one.” She smiles against your breast and kisses along your belly all the way to the small cut just above your belly button. As her lips encase the wound, she moans in delight at the taste of your blood. Her sharp fangs graze against your skin and she nips as she moves lower.

Her dagger is now in the waist band of your underwear, teasing the fabric, slowly tearing it. As she makes it through the elastic, she puts the knife down and rips your underwear in two, tossing the fabric at your feet. As you stand bare in front of her, she stands back, a smirk adorning her face. “So beautiful…” She whispers, starting to circle your hanging body. You cross your legs, trying to cover your most intimate parts, but are quickly stopped as Wandas hand slaps your thigh. “No, keep them open. I want to see what’s mine!” She growls, smoothing her hand over the skin of your legs.

As she stands behind you, she grabs the paddle, spinning it in her hands. “Alright, how many should we do?” She asks to no one in particular. She hums and chuckles, “How about until you bleed?” She whispers in your ear, biting your earlobe. She takes a step back and raises the paddle, swinging it against your ass, hard. You scream in agony, attempting to walk forward, only moving right back to where you were. Wanda admires the red mark on your ass, smiling as she rubs her hand against your burning skin.

Another swat, another scream. More tears fall down your face with each and every hit from the wooden paddle, yet the fiery feeling in your gut gets stronger. It was a confusing feeling, getting aroused from being beaten.

It felt like ages when Wanda finally stopped. Your ass was sore, bloody, and bruised. A dark black and purple spot forming on each cheek. She puts the paddle down and reaches for more rope. You silently groan at the thought of there being anymore to come. Gently, Wanda grabs your knee, wrapping the rope around it and pulling the excess rope to the hook above you. The raises your leg, slowly starting to expose your slick folds to her. She follows by securing your other leg in the same fashion.

Now fulling spread out for her, she hums at her work. “Are you ready for the good part?” She asks.

You shake your head and look at her, “N-nothing g-g-good is going to co-come.” You stutter, your voice scratchy from the previous screaming. She sighs and shakes her head.

“You poor, little thing. There are so many things I can make good, if only you would obey, and submit to me.” She steps closer, her hands holding your hips.

You look down at her, whimpering in response. Your silence is enough of an answer to her, indicating you were not falling for her games just yet. She removes one hand off of your hip and looks down at your pussy. “Look how wet you are,” she says, rubbing her hand over your soaked lips. You struggle to close your legs, the rope rendering you completely un able to move. Her fingers spread your pussy open, your clit revealing its throbbing self.

Your slick covers Wandas fingers as she dips her fingers close to your hole, smirking at your reaction. “You must be so sensitive, huh? Your ass all bruised. Is that what made you so wet?” She tilts her head up, looking for an answer. You shake your head quickly, not wanting to admit that it was the exact reason you were wet.

To your horror, Wanda approaches the chain holding you up again. She raises it until you are much higher than before, your body swaying with her movement. Wrapping the chain around the hook to keep you where you are, she returns to you, your pussy right in front of her face. “I’ve been waiting to taste your delicious nectar all day…” She says, kissing your inner thighs softly.

You hold your breath as she takes her first taste of you, her tongue licking a stripe right between your petals. Her tongue swirled around your clit, the bud inching to be touched. You can’t deny it, the pleasure that she is bestowing upon you is mind-shattering. The moans from your mouth make Wanda smile, her fingers coming to join her mouth.

She sucks on your clit, her lips closing around it, and her fingers poking at your hole. You try to avoid her but it doesn’t work. As she continues to suck on your sensitive clit, two fingers slide into your pussy. You let out a soft sob, an unintended moan slipping out right after. Something inside of Wanda loves the sounds you make, her pussy feeling the same tension as yours.

As she works her fingers in and out of your cunt, you are already close to your first orgasm and Wanda can’t wait to see it. She witnessed one while you were asleep, but she knew it was nothing like when you would be awake. Faster her fingers became, and your moans became louder as they curl inside of you, rubbing against that one good spot.

One soft graze of her teeth against your clit was what sent you over the edge. Your legs shake, your orgasm passing through your whole body. Your mind was empty and seeing white, your chest was heaving, your pussy was throbbing, and your toes curled in pleasure. But Wanda didn’t stop.

An hour went by. She devoured your cunt, not letting you take a break. Five orgasms later, she finally pulled away from your pussy, letting you rest. You were exhausted, your eyes barely able to stay open and your mind unable to comprehend how long you had been tied up. Wanda looked up at you, kissing and rubbing your legs to soothe you. “It’s ok, little one, its all over now.” She says with a soft smile, your head hanging in front of your arms and looking down at her.

She walks to the wall and gently lowers you to the ground. She unties your legs, but keeps the rope around your wrists. Picking you up, she brings you to your cell again, laying down with you. She pulls your tied arms over her head, forcing you to hold her and she hums as she nuzzles into your neck.

You lay silently, sleep taking over your system. Wanda hums a quiet lullaby, knowing deep down you loved every minute you were in that dungeon. Maybe someday she will move you out of the dungeon and into a room of your own. Or even her room. But at this moment in time, she wanted to hold you and tell you everything is going to be ok, because it will be. She will protect you and never let you go despite your desperate attempts to escape. Some days she purposely lets you escape, get halfway into the forest, and have Bucky drag you right back into your cell.

It is laughable what effort you put into it, even though you know she will catch you Every. Single. Time.

And you accepted that. She won no matter what. You even learned that Bucky really likes his chin scratched in his wolf form, but you both have a love-hate relationship. Always calling him a dog, or a mutt, and him calling you a blood bag.

Wanda kept her word and protected you from anything that was thrown your way. In return, you kept her full of nutrients and energy. She used you for dessert, blood and body both. You learned to love it. Everything Wanda did to you, for you, with you, was out of love. Love and of course, lust. Your blood kept her alive, and she looked forward to it after a long night of hunting.

She deserved it. After all, she saved you from your horrible town, right?

#Creatures and Foreigners #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x female reader #dusktilldawnchallenge #wanda maximoff x you #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #dark!fic #Vampire!Wanda x Reader #wolf!bucky barnes x Wanda x Reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maxmoff x y/n #CAF

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eluxcastar · 1 year

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*slaps my brain* this bad boy can churn out so much angst. Greetings, i arrive with pantalone x male reader : -- reader + a group of agents are sent on a mission. They're ambushed by the enemies (some rebellion group against the fatui) and everyone is killed except the reader. -- reader begs for their life and agrees to join their side and give out info about the fatui (But in their head, reader just comes up with an improvised plan to use this opportunity to lie and double cross the enemies) -- (un)fortunately, one agent survives... and delivers the news that reader has betrayed the fatui... to both Pantalone and Arlecchino. -- Poor banker man has a short breakdown before realizing that the Knave would be sent out to hunt down the traitor. (ouch) -- Perhaps it was just a few crumbs left of his love and trust for you, that convinced him to take over the duty of hunting you down. Perhaps he just wanted to see you one last time. -- He faces the brunt of Arlecchino's mockery and amused pity when he tells her that he's gonna kill you himself. -- Reader thankfully succeeds in escaping the enemy's headquarters. So imagine their panic and surprise when halfway into returning, pantalone pulls up and aims a gun at their head and demands an explanation (congratulations! both of them have trauma now! Reader is now paranoid in every way to never disappoint Pants every again! Pantalone now has paranoia for betrayal!) -- for roughly a month, reader moves out from their shared bedroom and occupies a guest room(fun!)

Super (un)happy (un)fun times with Pantalone ❤️

── ୨୧：pantalone x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: an expedition gone wrong as you are attacked by a group of rebels who win only by catching you off guard, they wipe almost your squad out, at least so you thought, and will little other option you decide it's best to choose the humiliating one and get on your knees to grovel and beg for your life like some poor dog

୨୧﹑genre :: angst

୨୧﹑content :: masc reader, mentions of blood, injury, death, reader does technically get kidnapped, the root of their problems is a lack of communication fml

୨୧﹑words :: 7.2k

nom nom nom this THIS this has eaten my brain since it was sent to me, this little thought that I wanted to do right away but was in the middle of Capitano and didn't wanna make that anon wait longer than the like two months they already had which was like two months BUT I SAID IN THAT ARLECCHINO POST that it was coming directly after Capitano so now I am LEGALLY obligated to do it (I have literally put off the Pierro request I said I would do since December) (I just want an excuse)

there may not be a post tomorrow because I'm tired and in pain so if that's the case the requests will resume either Monday or Tuesday

I also just liked that this request was like "These events, this order" cause it's so easy hmu anytime this literally ended up my longest post. also this kinda seems like it could even be the predecessor of the events of the previous post if only for a few details which tbh is an interesting thought

Somewhere along the road, you got to the point where you were surrounded by corpses; those used to be your comrades. You stare through bleary eyes at your weapon tossed aside on the ground. If only you could move freely, you could reach it. You might be ok if that was possible, but it's not. You lay surrounded by enemies who kicked at your comrades' feet to finish off whichever of them wasn't already dead. Quickly you have to think, lest you become the next one to get a sword to the back of the neck.

Ignoring a nasty knock to the head and some shallow scrapes, your health is the least of your worries. You have a splitting headache and a bit of trouble focusing. You can make out your weapon enough to reach for it; it's close enough if you're not mistaken, but if you're wrong, you'll likely end up as a red stain in the snow.

Your hand finds the hilt of your blade as a boot crushes the backs of your knuckles, barely able to cry out when the weight leaves your head. There's a relentless kick to your ribs, wedging a foot under and flicking you onto your back. The tip of a sword finds your throat, sharp like a prick against your skin; the wielder is clearly not worried about making you bleed as you are.

"Do you believe you've achieved something?" You ask, slowly smiling up at the man who looms over you. His foot rests on your stomach just enough that it doesn't hurt, though you suspect it will change quickly. "Killing only grunts, you're so impressive."

He knows you're mocking him; you can tell he knows as he presses his foot down until you grimace from the pain and then some.

Your ribs still hurt, and they'll probably bruise later.

You just aren't thinking about that because you don't want to die.

You don't understand why you're, for some reason, not as willing to die as you promised you would be. When you set out on this mission, you were prepared for the idea that you would be happy to go out in the name of the Tsaritsa, but...it felt much different when faced with the situation.

It would be the end. Never again would you see anything you love in this world. You would never see your lover or your family. You'd never get to train another new squad of rookies and never go home to eat a warm meal, to feel how stupidly soft Pantalone's hair is, or get to kiss him. You already know you won't see your squadmates again, and they wouldn't see you no matter how shameful you become for the sake of your life.

If nothing else, you would escape, and with all hope of saving everyone else long gone, that much is all you could ask for.

Your dignity isn't worth dying for.

"Wait," you speak out, placing your aching hand around the blade of the sword to stop any sudden movements, not fully registering the choice as strange. "If you spare my life, I'll give you information about the Fatui." You're relieved to feel the sword pull away ever so slightly, though the sting doesn't subside.

The man looks sceptical of you, rightfully so, considering your actual plan. "How do I know your information will be worth sparing you?"

"I'm the captain of this team, I'm very useful."

He appears to consider your offer for a moment before abruptly snatching the sword away, running a shallow cut across your palm, making you once again cry out as that poor hand has seen much better treatment. Immediately it blooms with fresh blood that pours down your hand as you roll yourself over to clutch it with your good hand.

Tears prick at your eyes, your vision blurring, no doubt the result of the cold making your wound hurt like hell.

"I'm not convinced you're really so dedicated to living since you seem to be able to run your mouth so much." Now he's taken to mocking you, wearing a smug smirk like he came here to see a fatuu on his knees kissing his boots for a chance at redemption. He wants to watch while his comrades just watch him pull the poor little fatuu's strings. "Get on your knees and beg for it."

In your mind, you know this is what survival demands, but you resist solely because of your stubborn pride, which tells you that it is not something you are willing to do. You tell yourself this is necessary for your plan to work, for Pantalone to not receive the news that you've been killed in an ambush attack on your squad. If you can prevent even just that, you will gladly get down on your knees in the snow to prove a false promise that you will supply information to them, if only to buy time to find an escape plan.

You push yourself onto your knees, crawling a few feet ahead before placing your forehead to the snow and trying to ignore the burning pain in your palm that tells you to move it now. You can't, so you must endure it with a shaky voice.

"Please spare me… I don't want to die. I'll do anything you ask if you spare me, I swear, I'll betray the Fatui, give you any information you want! Please just spare my life."

someone grabs you by your hair, and when you're jerked up to see who it is, a different person from the man who was previously hurting you, this time a woman. You doubt she's eager to let the chance to beat a poor little fatuu slip away, either. How she smiles down at you so tenderly yet so sadistic tells you so. At the very least, you seemed to please her, and what more could you ask for? If even just one wanted to, they would likely spare you.

"He's so eager to please…." She lets go, and her hand travels down to stroke your cheek, making you fight the urge to pull away. "Let's keep him."

Those weren't exactly the words you aspired to hear when you joined the Fatui; you won't complain now that they're saving your life.

It was only supposed to be a simple mission. Many hours of silence proved that to be incorrect. Some time since your team set out, only one fatuu returns to Pantalone's awful habit of pacing like the floor owes him money. Worse still, that fatuu isn't you. It's not exactly a sight you see every day, Pantalone stuck in discontented thought as he stares blankly through everyone he looks at. You're supposed to be working under him. Why is nobody telling him anything? He doubts that it's as simple as not knowing.

Everyone must be aware of the undeniable fact that, right now, your life is in grave danger. The second thing everyone must know is that you will remain in danger for as long as he is not given the route you took when you set out to—

"Pantalone, a skirmisher from the expedition team has returned." Pantalone startles, his thoughts interrupted as Arlecchino approaches. She is tailed by a slow and trembling man, freshly home and the victim of severe frostbite. Blood still clings to his clothes from the wounds he bears. She brought him so quickly that he didn't even get a chance to have his condition treated. "He says that the news he came back for is important, so I've spared ending his life for desertion. It still doesn't explain why he chose not to die along with the others."

"Is that important?" a part of him is filled with dread as he knows you would never allow yourself or anyone else to turn tail and run away, meaning it does matter. it's a sign that on the other side of all the chaos, he will likely arrive at the site where this man last saw you all to your bloodied corpse. "Where did your Captain go? He was supposed to be leading this team."

"H-He…" clearly hesitant to explain, Pantalone assumes he's about to say you had died in the heat of battle. "He betrayed the Fatui so the enemy would spare him, and agreed to give up important information in exchange for his life."

Something about that strikes him cold. However, he turns searing hot as the worry sets in like dread, and he realises everything will end here. the Knave will be sent to kill the traitor, and in the end, he will never hear your sweet voice again like music to his ears. It was for nothing to have held out hope you were alive because he was right. In the worst way possible, Pantalone was right. As he stands here pacing in worry, you probably don't care. Rather, you are spilling every secret Pantalone has slipped you about the Fatui he wasn't supposed to. Somewhere out there, you're betraying every ounce of trust he ever put in you as you take advantage of whatever you have to save your skin.

if only he could go back and be there, you probably never would've had to do such a thing, but what if this is the Tsaritsa's gift? To know that you would be willing to betray all that the Fatui stand for? that is a cruel way of thinking. He can't force Arlecchino to unhear that, meaning he can't keep it a secret. Pantalone certainly can't stop this information from getting out as he might've liked to. You will be hunted by the Knave to the edges of Teyvat for your crimes.

"Pantalone." he looks up to Arlecchino's stone-cold glare like she knows the deliberations going on in his head as the more significant part of him questions your innocence. "He's a traitor. Don't spare your thoughts on him, just pretend that he died and I'll bring his corpse back and call him a hero."

"No--" At that moment, Pantalone's voice sounds so strained. he thinks he's on the verge of tears even if it doesn't feel like he is. Pantalone speaks without thinking, and he can't tell if it's because he wants you to come home or to ask you why. maybe he just doesn't want you to die, even knowing you probably betrayed them. "No, I'll go. I'll go, and I'll--" he hesitates momentarily, "kill him."

he can't even believe he just spoke those words out loud. Something about the entire situation is surreal, though he feels like someone has wrenched his heart from his chest and run off with it. That 'someone' would probably be you, off to present it to a new master on a silver platter. you took a piece of him and stole it, and now only an aching lingers. something in that aching longed for you to pay for your actions, but it also demanded an explanation. that part of him wants to hold you down and wring the life out of you with his bare hands so you can feel the pain he wants you to. it wouldn't be enough to let the Knave kill you, no matter if it was slow, drawn-out torture. he wants to see your face as you die, to watch the life drain from your eyes, and see if you hold any remorse as you see the point you've driven him to.

worry fades away into anger, frustration too, but mostly anger.

Pantalone is angry about many things, angry at you. He's angry that you made him fear for your safety. He isn't sure he can ever forgive that you had so carelessly become a traitor. He can't forgive that you would even betray him.

"Will you really kill your own loverboy?" He's angered that Arlecchino would say such a thing. The lilt in her voice makes it painfully obvious she isn't extending her greatest sympathies. "I thought menial work was below you."

he opens his mouth to retort but decides not to dignify that with a response.

it's cold out. it would be far too hard for you to survive without help. Pantalone is accompanied only by the skirmisher who returned from your squad with the news of your betrayal, though unbeknownst to him, he is taking his last steps as he has orders to kill the man once he has fulfilled all of his use. he also betrayed the mantra of loyalty, but perhaps he hasn't realised such a thing yet.

he and Pantalone arrive at the remnants of your last squad, the last place where you were seen alive and where enough blood was spilled to dye the snow red. he sees almost the entirety of your team strewn about and abandoned, only one of the attackers amongst them having succumbed to his injuries as he lay face down and lifeless.

this is far enough. he can die amongst his comrades.

"Lord Harbinger, they went in this direction." Though he has already begun to draw a blade, he turns his attention to see what the skirmisher is crouched before, noticing vague impressions left behind. It's been a little over half a day since he returned alone, meaning these would be your last traces. however, no matter how far you've gotten, he should tend to the bodies first. by the time he attempts to follow those tracks, they'll be covered in a new layer of snow. for now, he must deal with this skirmisher who decided that his fleeing was not a disgrace to the Tsaritsa's name.

Pantalone draws the knife he had tucked away out of sight. In the second it takes to turn around, a deep slash is carved into the fatuu's throats. He topples over himself to the ground, where he lands atop his slain comrades, struck by the shock more than anything.

"Tsk tsk, and to think this was a mere decoration piece."

Already another day and a half out, he stumbles upon the camp of rebels, as dead as your squad. They are all just as carelessly tossed aside as the last corpses he found, and much like the last group, only one is missing. it seemed to be the same one missing each time as suspiciously, you're nowhere to be found amongst the people you were betraying him for. gone with the wind just as you were the first time you hadn't come home. moreover, this certainly is not their primary base of operations as it lacks any semblance of permanence. It was put together in a hurry to survive the night without succumbing to exhaustion, not for a long-term stay. there's a freshly lit fire still burning by their sides, surrounded by the people who had likely been sitting by it for warmth before their lives were snuffed out by the sole survivor he knew of.

the cherry on top is that the bodies are still barely warm — you're nearby. You can't get far in that amount of time, and the snow gives you away quickly, even with the night falling. you're so close it's as if he can see you already, as the memory of your presence is left behind In the form of footsteps. most noticeably, however…droplets of blood trail beside those footsteps.

in the place of your footsteps, Pantalone begins to walk along the trail you make for him, following behind you like a dog that chases the scent of blood to find its master amidst danger. stepping directly into the divots left behind is the only way to feasibly track you in the dark, with no source of light yet coming into view. the wind is picking up, however, and as he focuses closely on the direction he walks, he begins to hear the faint sound of life at last. the singular life who managed to escape certain death not once but twice and who will not be so lucky the third time.

the glow of a lantern appears in the distance.

somewhere out there, the light ahead of Pantalone glows brighter as the distance between you grows shorter, and the silhouette of a man enters his view.

it's you, carrying a lantern you had likely stolen, bloodied bandages crudely wrapped around your hand, dripping bright red into the snow. more than anything, you seem ready to collapse from exhaustion from how slowly you move.

"Is someone there?" You must hear Pantalone as you turn back, hands shaking audible in the clattering of the lantern, a cut across your cheek.

You make eye contact with the gun he points at you. You are trapped in the middle of nowhere with no backup, little food, and barely any water, but you know it's him. if not for the gun, you might not worry, yet something about it sends chills up your spine just from the coldness of his eyes. You're not used to such a gaze on you. It's like steel and raw feelings cloud together into one terrifying man who feels the most profound form of betrayal a person could know. Even in the line of work of the Fatui, this is something different. Not due to circumstance but because he is a Harbinger. some shivers dance across you, spiking goosebumps into your skin, and you feel like you could collapse, but you know that if you do, all will have been for nothing.

"Pantalone--"

"I want to hear a thorough explanation for the things you've done."

You want to provide one, but…but how do you tell him you still betrayed the Tsaritsa's trust in you to die for her cause when the time came? Every lie that spilled from your lips, masked as information you provided, was shared out of self-preservation, not loyalty. That alone was enough to get you hunted and killed, especially in your position.

Now you stand small and weakened by circumstance before a man burning with rage, only a lantern slowly draining away as the minutes pass. You can't blame him, only able to imagine how he could've possibly heard that you hadn't returned and what it must've looked like to see you gone so many times from places you should've died. Does he think you killed your squad to desert the Fatui? Or was there someone who told him you had betrayed him? Maybe he just decided that for himself upon seeing the very place where you had thrown away your dignity for him thinking you could do it all alone.

"I wanted to see you…" you try to say, throat rough and voice quieter than you'd like. "I didn't want to die so I lied. I was just coming back, everyone else is dead! Everyone was killed, but there was a way…a way that I could live and come home." Without meaning to, you begin to tear up, met with only unwavering disbelief, not of shock but of an unwillingness to believe you aren't a filthy liar. "I didn't want you to hear the news that I had died." You choke the last part out on the verge of breaking down.

"Was it me you lied to or them? How am I supposed to trust you're being honest now when everyone you've come into contact with has died?" You didn't think you'd ever hear such venom in his voice, but more than that, he was hurt more than you could be by his words alone. You just can't think of a way to prove to him you're being honest, not when you're so tired and worn down and working against what is likely an order to kill you for your actions.

How are you supposed to tell a man overcome with grief and emotion that he's wrong? There's no way he'll see reason.

"You can observe the wounds," you say slowly, unsure if he would buy such a story, "they weren't made by a weapon like mine, and you know what I'm like — hopeless with other weapons."

will he wait that long? you doubt that, but you can make him wait even a moment for you to explain yourself.

"They were a hopeless rebel group who thought of me like a dog. why would I be loyal to them?"

"You were supposed to be loyal to me!" like a rubber band pulled to its limit, it's as if something snaps, the boiling anger bubbling over. "I thought we were trying to stop lying all the time; I thought we agreed not to run off and try to do things on our own. Maybe only I had agreed to those things because you seem to be fine doing both of them."

His words anger you, but you know that denying them will only anger him instead. You have spent the past few days lying to him whether you meant to or not, the past few days have been hell, and yet he has experienced greater suffering in the form of overwhelming grief. for the past few days, Pantalone has believed you were dead, then that you had betrayed him in your most excellent schemes. it was what people told him. it was what the evidence pointed to.

But your body, appearing so small and trembling from how cold you are, wrapped in the now tattered clothes you had departed in, tells a different story. Blood spilled over your collar, the furs of your overcoat matted, your hair tangled, and your skin bruised. The sight brings pity to Pantalone for you, such a pathetic little thing still begging for only his forgiveness, not even your own life.

Pity reasons with the side of him that, even now, holds his love for you close. You are closer to his heart than anything else has ever been. He finally asks what should've been an obvious question that whole time: when did he start believing Arlecchino over you?

With the possibility considered, more questions flood his mind: why were you walking closer to where the Fatui gather most if you were betraying them? What use would you find in killing them if they were your accomplices? there would be far more benefit in allowing them to cart you out to the edge of Snezhnaya then betraying them. even you would know that and which direction you were walking before he caught you — back to where you came from. when your shaking form is back in focus, he realises his gun shakes with the faint clang of metals like the bullet rattles in the chamber.

You are returning to Snezhnaya, he realises, you are coming home.

Slowly, he forces his hand to lower alongside his gun. The tension in his body runs high; he's surprised to hear the gun slip and fall to the ground, landing somewhere in the snow with a dull sound that he ignores. there are more important things. Pantalone moves, forcing his feet to comply with what he wants — you are cold and need a warm coat wrapped around you tightly.

Pantalone freezes in place rather quickly, however. He realises you are shaking violently, and not just from the cold. the look on your face spells sheer terror as if you're a little child face with the big scary monster in the dark. you don't know. Unable to hear his thoughts, you have no idea his intentions. Inching back to put some more distance between the two of you for your safety, your sense of self-preservation acting for you. would you believe a word he says if he tries to reassure you? or would you suspect his habit of using flattery to get the things he wants? either is a reasonable assumption on your part.

There is a silence that spells nothing but decisions for both of you, thoughts running wild with possibilities. It drags on for so long that it feels like an eternity before you move. Both of you impossibly still, too afraid to do anything lest you provoke the other with even the slightest wrong move.

the first to act so happens to be you, lips quivering and eyes watering as they sting with tears you've been holding back far too long. The lantern is lost to the snow. You crash into Pantalone's chest, almost toppling the both of you. You finally break, your emotions overflowing before you get a chance to catch up with them. you're terribly upset and worn down, exhausted, anxious and, most of all, more afraid than ever. Still, you are so happy to finally have a single taste of home back in your arms, even if he's gone stiff as a board, and you're scared he'll toss you aside. just a moment, and you'll be satisfied to have your love end then and there in a single gunshot because of your stupid decisions.

However, as soon as the action registers, your embrace is returned awkwardly at first. you soon both relax enough to hug so tightly you might suffocate before you make it home. you would be more than glad to spend your last moments that way, but thankfully that isn't the case. you will go home safe again tonight.

the guest room is a lonely place, even in your own home, but once your wounds were carefully bandaged and placed in front of the fire to warm up, you had more time to think than you should've. each time Pantalone approaches, even just to offer you warm tea and an extra blanket, you would flinch so violently it was as if he still held a gun to your head.

you tried so hard to spend the first night back in your shared room, but even with all the warmth and assurance you could ask for, you found yourself on edge. you've spent every night of the past three weeks sleeping in the guest room by yourself. can your relationship ever be repaired? from something like that, you're not sure. you desperately want to believe there is something that can be salvaged, even when you have seldom spoken to each other since your return. The two of you exchange little more than curt greetings before Pantalone leaves to carry on his work. Still unfit for active duty, you remain alone in the silence of your shared home. you thought the silence might make it better and give you time to think, but you know at heart that you would much rather be distracted.

You doubt in this state that you could convince even the ever battle-hungry Tartaglia to agree to spar with you and that plants you firmly in bed, unwilling to get up. If you got on your knees and begged, you might be given some paperwork to complete. You choose to ignore the helping of papers on the desk in the corner of your room, blank if not for your name. you were supposed to write a report of everything that happened during your stint as a rebel. spending several days AWOL isn't something the Fatui looks past, even when it's a Harbinger's lover doing it, though it certainly helps to have that kind of reputation.

In your mind, you've had thousands of interactions with Pantalone where you tell him anything and everything. In her fantasy, you say everything you want him to hear and spill all your thoughts and worries. However, when you come face to face with him, you freeze up and choke on your words until he's gone. Pantalone leaves the house earlier than he used to and doesn't return until later. Maybe he's shutting you out to think, or perhaps he's shutting himself away from you to let your physical wounds heal before thinking of your psychological ones. Clearly, only one of you wants to talk, and Pantalone's sudden turn to pulling away only worsens that.

You want to tell him that, but even that conversation gets stuck to the confines of your mind when you can barely say a quiet good morning to him.

All at once, it seems you've lost everything. First, your team and now your husband; next will probably be your job, and your life will follow suit if that happens. The Tsaritsa's benevolence must include letting those under even harsh scrutiny for their actions get medical care before they die. Otherwise, you're sure you would've heard something horrible about the verdict on that investigation Arlecchino threatened you with. Supposedly you would receive a letter including the conclusion, though you were warned it may take months to conclude. If a letter arrived, you certainly don't know about it.

You're not entirely sure what possesses you to check Pantalone's office. There's a sinking feeling in your stomach like he may have hidden it or innocently collected it and has yet to read the mail from this morning. Both options have you looking through the mail in search of the letter. Is it even there? Probably not. You simply convinced yourself that is it, and now you must find evidence to prove or disprove that idea.

You sort through the stack of envelopes left aside on his desk. You started with the unopened ones, but, finding nothing, you forced yourself to move on to the letters he had most definitely already read. You can tell by the way the ends have been cleanly sliced with a letter opener.

In no particular order, you restack them as you go, thinking there are too many envelopes for him to memorise their order.

Before you know it, you're staring down at the seal used in official — mostly only important — letters from high-ranking officers of the Fatui. You want to open that letter to be a request from the Jester. You'd also settle for a nag for funding from the Doctor or a written apology from Tartaglia for blowing an exorbitant amount of the Fatui's funding during his stay in Liyue.

However, you know that seal too well; it is used only by the Knave. Harbingers have customised variations of the official seal; some you've memorised more than others, as the differences can be slight.

Forget your words. Your breath catches in your throat as you reach into the opening to pull the neatly folded paper out. Please don't be a verdict. Your mind races with dozens of possibilities. As you read through the words as quickly as possible, the worst of your thoughts seems to be coming true. First, details of the investigation, including the validity of your initial testimony being validated by the evidence. Your men were killed by the blades carried by the enemy. Arlecchino then goes on to discuss the logic of your actions and the order the events took place. She mentions the physical state you were found in and examples of your injuries, noting many couldn't have been self-inflicted. She does not entirely dismiss the idea you may have had help, but you can probably work with that mindset.

Finally, however, she notes that, in all likelihood, your version of events is correct.

Arlecchino won't release the final verdict until she's sure, not one to put half-baked conclusions on official paper, but the fact Pantalone didn't even mention this much to you fills you with a rage you didn't expect. How could he hide the most crucial thing since you returned from you? He knows how much you've been fretting over this, even in the absence of proper conversation between you — the few words you managed around him were to ask about it.

You're unsure if your hands shake from weakness or a new influx of emotion you're not ready to handle. It's tiring being shut out; you're sick of being shut out. Even if you did move to the guest room, you still live in the same damn house. You still share everything but the bed you slept in, so why? Why is Pantalone keeping so much from you? Why did he suddenly stop speaking to you? he was the one going on about you lying, so what about—

"What are you doing in here?"

a voice from the doorway catches you so off guard that you jump at the sound, looking up to find Pantalone with a nasty look on his face. Judging by the state of your emotions, you imagine the look you're giving him to be equally rotten, pissed off, maybe. You didn't hear him come in; he must've done so quietly.

"The hell's wrong with you?!" Without meaning to, you raise your voice, half due to frustration and half the fault of that pent-up desire to communicate, spilling over in the heat of your breaking point. This is it. This is all you can take. This is where your patience and ability to keep your emotions in stops. "Three weeks! Three whole weeks I have waited for any sign that maybe, just maybe, I won't have my head sliced off my shoulder, and for—" you glance down at the letter to find the date, knowing Arlecchino marks the date of everything she sends as a precaution, "oh, about four days now— guess who has had an idea of how that investigation into his own husband is going?"

You barely even noticed you had blown a gasket until you were done, stood from the chair Pantalone should be sitting at, hands resting on the table. Your palms hurt; you must've slammed them down at some point, as the sting is dull but still there. More than anything, your breath is laboured, and you might start to cry again if you don't get a hold of yourself. You're so mad it makes you feel dizzy, like you might lose your footing if you're not careful.

Ah. That's not your anger. The realisation hits you hard as you lose your balance and topple back into Pantalone's chair. You got so tense and behaved carelessly, worsening your health. You're not used to being so fragile.

"Don't get yourself too wound up—" Pantalone made his way to your side at some point— "you'll make it worse."

You don't care if you make it worse. You really don't, but you know that throwing a tantrum is childish and solves nothing but making Pantalone worry for you more. It only pushes him further away from you and helps no one.

But Archons, you're just so irritated, your emotions at an all-time high. You've spent three weeks forcing them into a tiny box they don't fit in. You've spoken to nobody about it, said nothing of the kind of thoughts you had stranded out there alone, the only survivor of your squad. An overwhelming abundance of guilt tells you that you should've died along with them; you were a coward for how you acted following their deaths. You're just a filthy coward, aren't you? Cowards are of no use to anyone, let alone the Tsaritsa. Maybe it would be best if it was declared you weren't fit for duty. Arlecchino should just decide you've tarnished Her Lady's honour.

At last, you understand. You understand why Pantalone has avoided you for three straight weeks — you are not the man he married. You are some imposter of that man who would brave even the strongest foes without an inkling of a thought he might lose. You are a cowardly and pathetic excuse for that man. You bury your face in your hands, rubbing harshly at your face in some attempt to outlet that frustration. It seems so stupid you didn't realise it before. It's terrible to divorce an injured man, so he must be waiting for you to recover enough for him to leave you—

"I'm sorry."

Out of all the anticipated responses, that wasn't high on your list. You bite your lip, waiting to hear what comes next, chewing at it nervously.

"I thought if I kept that from you…" he trails off suddenly like there is more. Maybe he lost the words to say it, or maybe he didn't have very nice things to say in the first place. "I thought it would be easier to focus on your recovery if you weren't aware of how far Arlecchino was delving into your private life. I didn't—"

When you look up, you see a man with a look in his eyes like a kicked puppy, the visible distress you're in like a kick to his gut. He realises everything he's done to contribute to you ending up this way. You need him, truly, more than anything right now.

"You want to divorce me now, don't you?"

What possessed you to say that is far beyond both of you, but it's not any kind of accusation. It's just a question.

"No?" Still, he seems to think that's absurd; the look on his face is nothing short of pure confusion, like you just said the most ridiculous thing he's heard, and you had. "Why would I— No, I don't want a divorce."

"Then why are you avoiding me so much?" You shrink in your place, making yourself small as you were that night, and it raises the same pity in him that he felt then. "Why won't you talk to me? Why aren't you ever home?"

He is terrified. He is terrified to be close to you, even when he knows you need him.

A voice in his head asks what if you're still tricking him? What if this is only an act to gain his sympathy? He knows it's not, but the feeling, the paranoia, rings so clearly in his head he struggles to see you on the verge of tears. He doesn't want to trust you yet, even though he knows any comrades you had on either side are long dead. Even Arlecchino corroborated your story to some degree; she had yet to confirm the rest. So far, however, you were being liberated of any fault piece by piece. So why? Why does he feel so anxious about allowing you back into his home?

You live there; your entire life is in that house. He has built his everything up here, you by his side. It was hard to imagine that a singular mission gone south could cause this amount of damage. Yet, you are curled up in his chair while he stands beside it, taking your bandaged hand to squeeze it tightly and reassure you. He wants so desperately to believe that you told the truth. The nagging voice in the back of his mind constantly pushes the idea that you lied, trying to convince him your words didn't make sense. Everything makes sense. Arlecchino would not lie about that.

On the other hand, you've got such horrible anxiety, unlike the silly little thoughts you had before. It's not about whether Pantalone likes the flowers you get him or prefers silver jewellery or gold. It is about whether or not he secretly plans to divorce you. Your failure and the worry you caused him weigh heavy on your mind, all boiling down into one conclusion. You have caused him nothing but grief for what? A month now? Probably more than that. Who's to say you weren't a bother to him before the mission? What if you've always been a bother, and this is just his excuse to justify it?

That would explain why he pulled away so suddenly. Maybe it is about the flowers and the jewellery, perhaps he preferred flowers your money couldn't buy. You know he's not that materialistic, but it's the only way you can make sense of it. Maybe, for a Harbinger, you will never be enough. Perhaps he expected you would have taken Tartaglia's place as Eleventh before he got the chance. You were content and happy as a measly Captain under Pantalone's sector and never seemed to strive for more. You thought that would take your time away from him, but you also didn't want more than you needed. Were you meant to strive for more than that? Is that it?

Your deliberations are only working you up more, the opposite of what he warned you not to do. The tears start rolling down your cheeks again, warm and unable to be stopped by simply wiping them away as more only take their place. Maybe Pantalone doesn't want a crybaby for a husband. Then what? You would still be failing him even now.

You hiccup your sobs out for a moment, trying to force yourself to breathe so that you'll calm down. "I want you to tell me why you've been avoiding me and why you keep leaving so early and coming home so late." You quickly wipe your tears once again, the roughness of the bandages binding your hand quite unpleasant against your eyes. "Can we just talk? A-And be honest with each other like we promised we would."

Your pleas do not fall on deaf ears. Pantalone wants to listen to everything you have to say and tell you everything as long as you're willing to be as honest as you say you will be. He has faith you will, even with the voice that tells him you won't. If Pantalone never hears you out, then it doesn't matter how much truth you speak, as nothing will save your marriage from him refusing to believe it. If he wants to mend this as you seem to, he has to do his part. It should've been obvious it would be difficult after the heights of emotions you both experienced in a few days.

The two of you must work through this eventually, preferably sooner rather than later.

"We'll talk for as long as necessary, my darling, and be as honest as possible with each other." Pantalone takes your other hand and brings it to his hands, warm and soft against your skin — just that much puts you at ease. One of his hands brushes your hair from your face and wipes your cheeks, a gentle, affectionate motion that is not lost on you.

A man that did not want to be married to you would not be so tender toward you, would he? He would be cruel and taunting in your weakest moments. Pantalone is not sympathetic towards those he does not care about, and his idea of feigning it is vaguely veiled mocking. This is different — it's genuine. You nod in agreement.

"I don't want it to end," your words mumbles as you try to keep yourself together, "I don't want to break up over this."

"We won't," his reassurance comes hastily but is not insincere in the slightest, "we'll work through this. I promise we'll talk about it."

With confidence, you can't say everything you both have to say will be said, but you know that you intend to try to get as much as possible out. If that's all you can manage for a day, then that amount of progress is better than none. It's better than pushing and pulling forever; that is enough for you to know it will be alright.

CROSSPOSTED ON AO3

#♡ — ruu.#✦ — scenarios.#✦ — angst.#pantalone #genshin pantalone #pantalone x reader #pantalone x male reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader

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starofkhaenriah · 1 year

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Kaeya is not one for romantic dinners.

Or maybe he is, but he seems just as content to be sparring with you in the middle of nowhere. Evening sun illuminates the slight sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s already rid himself of the coat and rolled up his sleeves. A smirk brushes across his face.

“You’ve improved,” he comments, parrying another barrage of your attacks.

“Someone has to put you in your place.”

The two of you continue to move around the field, attacking and defending in turns. It becomes more of a challenge as time goes on. After all is said and done, Kaeya has more stamina than you. Your agility only lasts you so long, and sooner than you expect, Kaeya has you on your back. His knees bracket your torso, his sword - brand new, a gift picked by you and half the knights of Favonius - pinned in the ground next to your head. Both of you breathe heavily, adrenaline running through both of you.

“And you’re dead.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Fair and square, sweetheart.”

“Alright, alright. One win each. Tie breaker after dinner?”

Kaeya raises his eyebrows, rolling off you to lay down next to you. “Tie breaker right now?”

“I am exhausted; no thank you.”

“You’re just afraid of losing.”

He sits up and looks at you. It occurs to him that even in this state, you are one of the more beautiful sights he’s seen today. In his entire life, really.

Before he’s processed anything else, you’ve whipped up a stick from the ground, holding it to his neck like a dagger. “And you’re dead.”

“Sweetheart.” He pouts.

“Real talk, would you die for me?” The question is playful and sudden, but he senses something underlying it.

“Probably.” After a pause in which you are obviously waiting for more, he sighs. Pushing the stick away from him, he clears his throat and announces, “I’d rip my heart out, barehanded and bloody, if you asked it of me.”

“Nice.” With a face full of seriousness, you tell him, “So I have a question for you.”

“I think dying on my birthday is one of the worst gifts you’ve ever come up with.”

“Not that, idiot. Would you live for me?”

And this is the question that throws him off. It’s been a long time since anyone has expressed any concerns about whether he lives or dies. They love sending him into the fray, assuming he’ll make it out alive. They act like it’s a given that he’ll return from every battle - and so far, he has. He’s been working on his own for so long that even after years of you, he’s still a little bewildered at your clear and evident concern for him.

“If not you, what else would I live for?”

“For me,” you repeat. “Not for whatever future your family tried to push on you. Not the expectations of a fallen nation. Not the expectations of Mondstadt. Just me.”

He pauses. “That sounds a little toxic, my love. I think I need to associate with people besides you.”

“You need a reason to fight,” you point out. He’s always said so. “I’m just saying you could change it up. Your past is your past, but it doesn’t have to be your future. I’m not asking you to forget everything. I’m just saying, when the time comes and you have to make your choice, I’ll be whichever way you look.”

“Even if you don’t agree?”

“Especially if I don’t agree.”

“Hm.”

After a moment, you get up, dragging him with you. “Happy birthday, my love. Come on, Diluc has dinner ready for us.”

“You dragged Diluc into this?”

“Yes.”

“You were meeting another man behind my back.”

“It’s Diluc.” You roll your eyes. “He’s not going to do anything to me.”

“I’m not worried about you. I’m worried about him.”

“He is pretty attractive.”

“More than me?”

“Possibly.”

Kaeya slumps back to the ground. “This is the worst birthday ever. My wife asked if I would die, and then announced my brother is more attractive than me. You are doing a horrible job.”

“Don’t be dramatic. I got you a new sword - customized to specifications chosen specifically for you, by the way -”

“And I love it. I’m still getting used to it, but I think you did a good job.” He hefts it back into his lap, polishing it back to the shine of a new weapon. The inscription glints back at him: My love, my life.

He thinks that’s true in reverse too. His love, his life. The reason for him to wake up in the mornings. You.

Birthdays have never been important to Kaeya, not really. But once in a while, the Cavalry Captain gets to enjoy being pampered by someone he loves, and that’s the best gift among all other perfunctory gifts granted him due to his professional capacity.

He takes your extended hand, ready to pull him back up again. Instead, he yanks you to the ground with him. “We can be a little late, right?” He murmurs. “If the birthday boy wants a little kiss?”

#kaeya x reader #kaeya fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #happy birthday kaeya #two days early but whatever #same concept #library.kaeya

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elrondsscribe · 1 year

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So made a thread version of this on Twitter, but here’s a sermon in honor of my surprise Númenor fave from this season: Valandil!

My friends and I on Tumblr/Twitter noticed that in both the proclamation and Galadriel’s challenge, Valandil steps up while nobody else wants to go first.

We agreed that he has some big Eldest Child “I gotta make it happen or it won’t happen” energy.

We also theorized a background of underprivilege, at least in comparison to Isildur and Ontamo. I feel this most when Isildur gets them all failed from the Sea Guard — Ontamo isn’t happy, but Valandil is *beside himself* with rage - to the point that he trashes Isil’s dead mom.

And you’ll notice Valandil’s the one that makes the “your father got you a spot” jab when Isildur makes it on the boat. The tension only really eases when Elendil reveals he’s made Isildur a stable sweep.

Oh and also! He’s the Star Pupil! Remember Galadriel’s “How to Kill An Orc For Dummies” Class? She said Stab, Twist, Gut. Behold, when Valandil comes to Middle-Earth: stab, twist, gut!

(He deserves a gold star. And a cookie.)

He spends a lot of time holding ppl up at the end of this season 2. Here he is carrying Isildur and supporting Miriel. He’s there to break the news to Elendil that Isildur is gone, and he’s there when Elendil has his “should’ve let the Elf drown” moment.

Someone on Twitter theorized that Valandil might evolve into one of the more prominent Faithful in later seasons, but a friend of mine here suggests that he could easily also become one of the King’s Men. He could observe Elendil’s grief and Míriel’s blindness and say “so much for being Faithful!”

Whichever it is, this the Second Age and everyone is screwed in the end, and I reeeally don’t like the implications of a scene where Sauron casually hands him his sword back. Seems kinda ominous to me.

Do we need to say anything about Valandil and Isildur? I don’t think so. I think this right here speaks for me.

In conclusion!

He protecc

He attacc

But most importantly

He a SNACC

#the rings of power #trop #valandil #alex tarrant #can I get a valandil fancam up in this joint #pretty please with a cherry on top

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gamerbearmira · 1 year

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queenofthemultiverse, I'm doing good bro!! also, I had an au idea in mind. So, I was thinking back on the encanto lord of the rings au I was thinking, what if the triplets met Galadriel first?

Like say casita sends them there just as a break sort of thing, they wake up in Galadriel's castle at night, hang out, and be back home in the morning like nothing happened.

Galadriel knows all about Alma, she doesn't despise her, but she doesn't understand why such babies are forced to work so young. And to her, 8 years old = newborn.

She has tried to talk to her, but the triplets always tell her it's ok and that they are ok with it. The triplet's kind of see her as the mother they've always wanted, they love their birth mother, but Gala is more there emotionally and affectionately. And Celeborn is technically the father they've never had.

Can you please draw Galadriel with the triplets please! I think that would be adorable. By the time they meet her they would be about 8 years old.

Art prompt: Gala dressing them in royal garments (I'm eternally squealing at the thought)

Art prompt 2: Celeborn teaching P, B, and J how to use a sword or bow & arrow.

Art prompt 3: The triplets venting to Gala how tired they are, with Gala eternally getting more upset as the seconds go by.

Art Prompt 4: Gala and/or celborn showering them in gifts and pampering them. (I'm smiling at the thought of this)

You don't have to do all of them, you can do whichever one you like.

Ayo⁉️⁉️⁉️ Galadriel taking care of the little triplets <333 gotta love her for worrying. I mean by elf standards, they are like. Literally infants.

I was gonna do the second one with Celeborn, but. Imma do it next time though‼️‼️‼️ I did however do the first, I like it <333 the thought of Galadriel making them clothes is so cute <3 def sticks to their color schemes as well, just cause she likes the blue, yellow, green aspect they got going on.

hope you like it too 😼

Also time passes by faster in Middle Earth relative to the encanto, so if they don’t come back for like a year, that’s like a decade to Galadriel 😭

#my asks are open #my asks #encanto #encanto au #au #encanto julieta #encanto pepa #encanto bruno #galadriel #lotr #lotr galadriel #lord of the rings #encanto of the rings

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rays-of-fire-and-ice · 1 year

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Headcanon Fifth and Tenth Division Officers

So, after a chat with @alexiethymia, I got the urge to write up a list of every division officer I've ever made up for the sake of a story. There was a time where I wouldn't have ever bothered even naming an officer (just referring to them as 'officer' or by their rank), but that's changed over the years. So, for perhaps no one's enjoyment but my own, here are all the officers who I've made up in my fics.

Quick notes before we start: according to the BLEACH wiki and chapter 119, the ranks 11-20 can be occupied by more than one officer, so you might see me saying things like 'one of Fifth Division's twelfth seats' for instance.

Some of the info here is just things I was thinking of at the time I was writing fics these characters appear in, such as what their first names might be or their backgrounds.

Finally, I'll be including pictures and gifs of characters from other series just to give you can idea what these officers look like.

Tomoko Suzuki: Fifth Division's only seventeenth seat. She's appeared in Petrichor and As Months Go By, As Seasons Change:

She's a hard worker, responsible, observant, and unafraid to give her views on something or ask a question.

She's quick to follow orders and makes a decent leader, but can sometimes be a little too stubborn once she sets her mind to something and can be rash in battle when she has to protect someone.

She's from a lesser noble family comprised of just herself, her mother, and father.

She has a deep respect for Momo, and the two have known each other since Momo first became a seated officer, Although slow to come around to Shinji as her captain (having been scarred by Aizen's betrayal like everyone else in her division), she's come to greatly respect him too.

Her shikai, as seen in Petrichor, has the ability to numb whatever it cuts, causing the target to experience paresthesia (or 'pins-and-needles') and potentially paralysis through whichever nerves were struck. Depending on the size of the opponent, this can last from 10 seconds to 2 minutes. Her sword doesn't change much in appearance expect for the golden stripe that runs down the middle of the blade.

I imagined her as being a bit older than Momo, with dark green-grey hair kept in a long braid on her shoulder, dark grey eyes, and round-framed glasses (which she needs to see short-distance). She looks most like an older version of Mei Shijima from Toilet-Bound Hanako-Kun.

Kobe Abiko: an unseated Fifth Division officer. He appears in the first part of As Months Go By, As Seasons Change and in Petrichor

At the time of writing him, I imagined him as someone who's nervous around authority and about proving why he's worthy of being a Shinigami.

He was one of the younger graduates in his year and has yet to achieve shikai.

Momo sympathizes with him for his nervousness.

In terms of appearance, he looks any background BLEACH character, so take your pick!

Katsuro Hoshino: Fifth Division's eighth seat. He appears in part 2 of As Months Go By, As Seasons Change and makes a cameo in For What the Future Holds. I actually went into a surprising amount of detail for him in that story:

He's from one of the lower districts and has no family or friends from there. Because of this, he rarely has any inclination to go visit where he used to live.

He's always looking to improve himself, so he often asks for feedback on his training, performance on team missions, or where he's lacking.

Because of this, he's a perfectionist. If he ever messes up, he insists on correcting his mistake. If he ever got praised for something, he’d ask how he could make it better.

Shinji suspects all of this stems from the fact he's from one of lower districts, as in his experiences people from those districts tend to be ambitious and need to provide for those back home.

In reality, Katsuro is just ambitious by nature, but his environment definitely made him want to live a better life than he did when he first arrived in the Soul Society.

I can see him being a fan of Izuru's haiku poems. I'd like to think he got to meet him in person thanks to Momo and he internally fanboys throughout the exchange.

In appearance, he has pale skin, light grey eyes, and platinum blond hair. I imagine him being an older version of Ojiro from Boku no Hero Academia, but taller, thinner, and with his hair slicked back

Fuyuka Hirose: one of Fifth Division's two twelfth seats. She's mentioned in For All That Was Lost and Momo comes to pay her respects at her grave in To Give You Shelter:

She first came to the Fifth division 22 years before the main story and rose up the ranks due to her excellent zanjutsu skills and for harnessing her shikai to almost it's full potential

I haven't thought about what exactly her shikai would be, but if I had to take a guess, it'd be an earth-based zanpakuto with a power that involves the smell of flowers, with each smell having a different effect on the opponent - one makes them dizzy, another causes them to break out in sores, etc - but there would be one that can be crushed and used as a healing agent (kind of like Minazuki's stomach acids). It's main weakness is, of course, that once an opponent figures out it's the smell affecting them, they just have to cover their nose. Also, it has the potential to affect allies too.

She likes to wear earrings (like these ones) and used to wear a single long earring that was one of her most prized possessions in her right ear. However, after a mission where she almost lost her ear in battle because of it, she only wore the earring on special occasions from then on.

Her favourite fruit is nashi pears.

She loves gardening, and is often seen taking care of the Fifth Division's gardens in her free time. She asks Momo if she can gather a group together to do gardening every few months, and Momo will sometimes join in if she was free.

While on a posting in a seaside town, she heard about a flower festival the locals liked to go to in the countryside; she made it a goal to attend it whenever she is next on a mission in the World of the Living.

She dies in the TYBW arc during the first invasion.

Her gardening work is carried on by those who used to be part of her gardening groups.

I imagined her having short brown hair that varied in length over the years (it was never longer than above the shoulder) and lavender-coloured eyes. I think the closest character to look like her is Meryl from Trigun, maybe a younger version of the character

Ohashi: one of Fifth Division's twelfth seats. They appear in It's Been a While:

They were originally a thirteenth seat but were promoted after the war.

I can't remember what gender I thought of them as being at the time, so I'll leave it up to you to decide.

Funai: one of Fifth Division's fifteenth seats. He's mentioned in For All That Was Lost:

I think at the time I thought his first name would be Tsunemi, which has a few spellings, but I went with the one with the characters 常見 (I think together the characters mean 'usual/ordinary, see').

He's a painter, and usually paints landscapes; his skills are so good a few of his artworks are on display in the Fifth Division and he's been encouraged by many officers to sell his works.

Momo offers him tips on how to draw human anatomy while he helps her improve her nature drawings.

He has a small crush on Hirose, and he's one of the first people she ropes into being a part of her gardening groups.

While on a mission in the World of the Living, he first saw a ferris wheel and decided the next time he visited he would ride one; Momo suspects this is because he wanted to get a good view of a landscape or cityscape for a painting.

He dies in the TYBW during the second invasion.

He's survived by a younger adoptive brother who is in another division. He has requested to be transferred to Fifth Division to carry on his brother's legacy, but Shinji is reluctant as he wants the brother to live out his own life and not the life of someone else.

In appearance, he has tanned skin, thick dark auburn hair, brown eyes, and wears a black corded necklace with an engraved silver pendant on the end (much like this; the engraving he has is of a kanji characters which translate to 'keep moving forward', a mantra he had while growing up in the Rukongai). Funnily enough, Kubo ended up drawing how I imagined him a little when he drew the OG Gotei 13; the closest character to his appearance is Danjiro, former captain of Fifth Division (maybe they're related?!)

Hoga and Domen: Fifth Division officers who both hold the rank of twentieth seat (they share it with 4 others). They are mentioned in For All That Was Lost:

Domen I saw as being a man with the first name Zenzo (spelt 全三, with the character together meaning 'all, three'), while Hoga has the first name Sakae (spelt 栄 and meaning 'prosperity') and I saw the character at first as also a man but at other times as a woman, so you decide.

Both want to go to a beach in the World of the Living as neither of them had seen the sea before. While there, they also want to go to the bars and see if the drinks taste any different from those in the Rukongai.

They are big drinkers, and it'd be unusual for them to not go drinking at least once a week.

They were rivals once, often competing against each other at the Academy. Their rivalry was often viewed negatively by others, but to both of them it was a show of respect, that they saw the other as being of equal footing and worthy of competing against.

After graduating, their rivalry started to flourish into a friendship. They went to different divisions, until they ended up in the Fifth Division with the same rank.

That doesn't mean they're not competitive with each other anymore. They often challenge each other to do things, much to the division's enjoyment and sometimes chagrin.

They both die in the TYBW arc during the first invasion. Those that knew them were glad to learn that it appears they died fighting together.

I don't really have much to say for their appearances, but I imagine they'd both be almost 6 feet tall and look like they're in their mid to late twenties. Domen has a thick, bleach-blonde mullet (he originally had black hair, but he chose to colour it because he thought it's make him look 'cool'), while Hoga has black hair tied back in a short ponytail with bangs on either side of his/her face. If I had to pick characters that they most look like, Domen looks like Onizuka Eikichi and and Hoga looks like Danma Ryuji (if a man) from Shonan Junai Gumi.

Higuchi: Fifth Division's seventh seat. He appears in A Matter of the Heart, Petrichor and It's Him.

I never thought of a first name for him, but I think Katsuo (勝雄, the characters together meaning 'victory, hero/manly') would be a good fit.

In It's Him, he's one of zombie Hitsugaya's victims. If this were still the case in the canon story line, he'd live but have a scar on his body and struggle for a short time to look at Hitsugaya. In A Matter of the Heart, he gets pretty emotional and riled up when he brings up Momo is one of the detention cells. So, yeah, needless to say he has a bit of a tense view of Tenth Division's captain.

He's a burly guy, definitely one of the bigger men in the Fifth Division, and often asked to lift things by Shinji as a result - such as new furniture to move in or supplies for the reconstruction efforts in the ten year time skip.

He's also a bit paternal, always looking out for the younger recruits and acting as a father figure to some fellow officers. He became protective of everyone in the division after Aizen's betrayal, including Momo. Needless to say, he was distrustful of Shinji at first, and was very slow to come around to him being his captain.

He was transferred from Ninth Division to Fifth when Aizen was still in charge. Given what happened with Aizen and Tosen, he wonders sometimes if the transfer was part of Aizen's plan.

While in Ninth Division, he was an editor for the Seireitei Communication. He sometimes misses the role and has tried multiple times to get a column in the magazine going, but his ideas are often derivative of other writers (such as Sui Feng's 'I'll Do Anything to Live' and Renji's 'Let's Do Shikai!!').

After the war, he finally tied to knot with 'his misses' (a resident in the Rukongai he's known since they met at a festival decades ago). Shinji was delighted when he said he wanted to host the after party at the Fifth Division, and it came as a much needed morale boost during the reconstruction efforts. To this day, he still gushes about her when he's drunk.

In appearance, Higuchi is muscular and tall (standing at over 6 feet) and he is a little older than Shinji. He has short dark hair, bushy eyebrows, and facial hair that he sometimes grows out but most keeps shaven. He looks a lot like the younger version of Tamiya Gantetsusai from Hell's Paradise.

Yumi Takagaki: one of Fifth Division's five thirteenth seats. She makes a cameo in Petrichor.

She's good friends with Narita from Tenth Division, who she met at the Academy. She's also good friends with Hirose and Hoga, the latter of whom she remembers from her district as a neighbour.

In appearance, she has light brown hair tied back in a bun with a beaded ribbon that's ends rest on her shoulders and dark green eyes.

Takaya: before I knew about Genji, she was Fifth Division third seat in A Matter of the Heart. I have since gone back and edited her out, and she now one of their Fifteenth seats. She makes a cameo appearance in For What the Future Holds.

Minagawa: Tenth Divison's third seat. He makes a cameo in It's Been a While.

His first name is Yusuke, spelt 勇祐 and the characters together [I think based on what I searched] to mean 'courage, to help'.

He's an affable person who Toshiro and Rangiku know they can rely on to run the division if they ever need him to. He shares traits with each of his superiors, having the hardwork ethic and focus of his captain and is as observant about those around him as Rangiku.

He came to the Soul Society as a teenager and was sent to the Sakahone (East 76th) district. Like most residents, he worshiped Mimihagi.

He had anger issues and was prone to getting into fights with the teens and adults in the district when he first arrived. He still has a few scars from these fights.

Like most in the division, he has friends and family he will do anything to protect. He had a large adoptive family (3 sisters and 3 brothers) and was one of only three family members that had spiritual potential. They all took on the same surname to show they were a family.

The first member of his family he met was his youngest sister, who saved from being caught by the adults that were pursing him. He then met his two younger brothers when they helped him in a fight, his older sister after she was abandoned by her original caretakers, his second young sister when he helped her win a fight, and his older brother when he helped lead one of his younger brothers and youngest sister back to him.

Two of his brothers died during a Hollow attack, and his second sister passed away from illness not long after. These deaths made him vow to become strong enough to protect his family, and he prayed to Mimihagi every day to grant him the strength he needed to protect everyone he cherishes.

He was in Rangiku's year, but the two didn't really interact until they ended up in the same division.

He ended up in Thirteenth Division, where he learned to manage his anger issues and [under Jushiro and Kaien's leadership] adopted the philosophy that true strength comes from the bonds one makes rather than brute strength or talent. Until then, he basically thought 'What good are bonds if I don't the strength to protect them?' He'd been so focused on becoming stronger through fighting and harnessing his spiritual potential that he hadn't realised he'd been growing distant form his family.

He got transferred to Tenth Division upon Kaien's recommendation, as he thought he'd be a good for the division (in terms of personal goals and personality).

He's known Toshiro since the latter came to the Tenth Division. They've been on numerous missions together, and he saved his future captain during a battle against Huge Hollows. He has the scar on his bicep to prove it.

While working together as seated officers, Minagawa saw some of himself in Toshiro, but also saw the inverse of his own situation - rather than strive to obtain the power to protect those he cares about, Toshiro had immense power he needed to reign in in order to keep those he cared about safe.

When Toshiro became a captain, their relationship changed. Once Mingawa would treat him almost like a younger brother, but now it's more like friendly workmates. Every now and then he goes back to their 'old routine' though.

He actually doesn't have all that much to do most of the time, as Toshiro is too much of a hard worker. He's often tried to get his captain to let him complete some of the paperwork for him, fearing (like many in the division) he's overworking himself. For the most part, he checks in on subordinates, oversees training, and assigns Shinigami/patrols in the Rukongai and World of the Living. Rangiku convinces Mingawa to loosen up a little when he's working too hard and come drinking with her if she can't get the lieutenants or captains to go with her.

He has a pet parakeet who lives in his room named Taiyo. On his breaks and in his spare time, he takes Taiyo out and wonders around the division with him on his shoulder. He was a gift from Minagawa's family to congratulate him on becoming third seat.

He lost his left pinkie and ring fingers in the TYBW arc during the second invasion (the pinkie is completely gone, while he still has up to the second knuckle of his ring finger). Twelfth Division supplied him with a special glove that has prosthetic fingers within and ensures can still perform kido spells that require both hands.

I've written a lot for him here, and yet he's only made a cameo in one fic! XD I'll see if I can include him in my next one.

In appearance, he looks like his in his late twenties or early thirties and has slightly tanned skin, thick and wavy hair with a shortish fringe over one side of his face (in terms of colour, I've imagined him with black hair but also dark red hair, so who knows, maybe he got a dye job at one point), dark coloured eyes, and he wears a few things in his left wrist, include a woven bracelet his youngest sister made. He has several scars, all of which aren't visible when he wears his uniform except for one that runs from edge of his right eyebrow and angles to end near his ear (he got this from a Hollow and was lucky to survive).

In To know Love, Toshiro observes that he glances at an officer from the Thirteenth Division named Mako. Could this be love? ;D

He's actually shown up in the anime! Okay, well, not quite, but I got a shock when I rewatched the scene where Toshiro asks to be trained in zanjutsu and saw a background character that looks so much like how I imagined him.

Kenichi Hanae: Tenth Division's fourth seat. He appears in Petrichor.

He grew up in one of the higher districts and was adopted by a couple who run a restaurant. His family comprises of his mother, father, his grandfather, and an older brother.

Before he became a Shinigami, he worked with this parents in the restaurant and learned how to cook. Because of this, he's ended up as one of the divisions best cooks, though he rarely gets to show it off because his rank requires him to stay away from the kitchen.

He's taken many division members to his family's restaurant, including Toshiro and Rangiku.

In appearance, he appears to be in his late thirties with an olive skintone and looks like some BLEACH background characters, so keep picking!

Furakawa: Tenth Division's ninth seat. He appears in It's Been a While, where he may or may have not made a not-so-great lunch for his sick captain.

If I had to pick a given name for him, it'd be Atsuto, spelt 篤�� and together the characters supposedly meaning 'fervent/kind/serious/deliberate, person'.

He's an anxious and sensitive person, often startled when something suddenly happens.

He failed to get into the Academy four times, but managed to scrape in on his fifth attempt.

He has two childhood friends back in the Rukongai. He became a Shinigami so he could provide for them with the money he earns. He keeps in contact with them through writing and infrequent visits.

He, along with the majority of the division, notice the connection between his captain and Momo. He supports them for sure, but he gets more nervous than usually when he sees them together. One time he walked in on the two them having a chat, and he apologized profusely and rushed out of the room.

He's a not a good cook.

He looks like most BLEACH background character, so take hour pick again!

Narita: one of Tenth Division's eleventh seats. She makes a cameo in Petrichor.

Never thought of a first name for her, but I think Ageha would be a good fit (spelt 愛華羽 and [according to my searches] the characters together mean 'affection, flower/petal/splendor, feathers').

She's an empathetic soul, and her friends back in the Ruokngai feared she wouldn't be a good fit as a Shinigami due to the violence she'd have to experience. However, if it's to protect souls, she isn't afraid to fight.

She applied for Fourth Division, but ended up in Tenth due her kido skills not being up to Fourth Division's standards. She still hopes to be transferred to there one day, but in the meantime focuses on improving her kido.

She likes to play shogi and practices ikebana in her spare time. She gives finished bouquets to her friends or Rangiku has them displayed around the division.

She's good friends with Fifth Division's Yumi Takagaki, who she met at the Academy. She's actually pretty friendly with everyone in the division, no one has anything bad to say about her.

In appearance, she looks like she's in her early to mid twenties and has long, black, straight hair she keeps in a side ponytail on one shoulder and blue eyes. The closest character that comes to her in appearance is [an older looking] Momo Yaoyorozu from Boku No Hero Academia.

And that's all as far as I can remember! If you made it to the end of this post, thank you for taking the time to read it all the way through! i appreciate any and all thoughts on these characters of course, or if you have some of your own characters, I'd love to read about them! :D

#toshiro hitsugaya #momo hinamori #a little bit of #hitsuhina #shinji hirako #rangiku matsumoto #tenth division #fifth division #bleach #original characters

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stravagatefaster · 2 years

Text

New Stravaganza covers

If you're like me, then you dislike the early 2010's design choice of slapping random people's faces on fantasy book covers and calling it a day.

Unfortunately Stravaganza got this treatment for its English covers, so once I had finished collecting all the books, I decided to make dust jackets for the books. I thought I'd share the files here in case someone ever wants to print out new covers for their own copies. And if you don't, well, think of this as just a fancy piece of fanart.

Links to the files and further instructions under the cut.

The first thing you need to do is download the file(s) you need. I have included both PNG and PDF, so chooce whichever based on how you are going to print these.

City of Masks PNG/PDF

City of Stars PNG/PDF

City of Flowers PNG/PDF

City of Secrets PNG/PDF

City of Ships PNG/PDF

City of Swords PNG/PDF

Note that all the files should already include 0,5cm empty space on each side of the dustjackets. (They ended up being dark due to the settings on my computer, you can change them to white if you want to save ink/make cutting easier) In order to get the covers to be the right size, you need to make sure that the height (shorter edge) of each file is exactly 20,7cm on the final product (the height of the actual cover (again, short edge on the file) is 19,7cm)). The rest of the measurements have been measured individually for each book and will be correct so long as you make sure that the height is right.

The actual printing depends on what you have access to. You could print these on a regular home printer, though the quality won't be good and you will need to print each cover in parts and cut and clue/tape it together since regular printing paper is not large enough for the dust jacket.

I printed my copies through a poster printing service, and I would recommend you do the same if you want good picture/paper quality. If you have options, I would say go for a matte finish. I combined all my covers into one file and printed that as a poster. This is also why I included both PDF and PNG, so that you can choose which program to use if you end up doing the same. The most important thing is to make sure that the porpotions of the covers stay correct and that they will be the correct size on the final poster. For this, you need to read the instructions and measurements of the printing service very carefully, and you might have to end up doing some math and fiddle with the files. I ended up paying a little over 15€ for all six covers (incl. shipping).

Whichever route you choose, make sure to include at the very least the 0,5cm margins I have on the files. To be safe, you should add even more space around the final file (my copies ended up being cut exactly on the edge of the image so I should have added more).

Once you have your print, cut out the cover. I used a cutting mat, a craft knife/box cutter and a ruler, but you could also use scissors and very steady hands.

When you have the cover cut out, mark the midpoint of the width on the back of the dust jacket. Then measure the middle of the spine of the actual book on the top and bottom. You can make small markings with a pencil. Then line up the spine of the book and the middle of the dust jacket and carefully fold it around the spine. Since these are paperbacks, you might need to pinch them to get a good crease, especially if your cover was printed on poster paper. When you are satisfied with the spine, lay the book down on a table and fold in the inner flap under the front cover. Make sure to keep the paper tight on the front. Then do the same for the back, and you are done!

Please note that these covers have been designed to fit over the UK paperbacks (with the newer covers, the first 3 books originally came out with different covers and I do not know if they are the same size), though I think other English paperbacks with these covers should be the same size as well. I do not own any hardcover copies, so I couldn't make new covers for those. Since these covers are only dust jackets, they won't cause any damage to the original books.

Feel free to print these out, but don't share these files to another website (you can link to this post) and don't claim the covers as your own. I have included a watermark on the files, but it is barely noticeable, so please don't remove it even while printing.

#stravaganza #mary hoffman #fantasy #ya fantasy #fanart #dust jacket #not a meme #I also made matching bookmarks but making this post already took me an hour #so I left them out #no-one is realistically going to print these but I wanted to share the instructions just in case

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the-letter-horror-lover · 2 years

Text

Dear: My Youth

itsmia68742

Summary:

“What’s this…?”

•-•

After the entire debacle of two Ciels at Phantomhive Manor, Ciel Phantomhive retreats to the earl’s office, Undertaker a mere few steps behind, and finds a large, locked box sitting innocently on the desk.

Very soon, letters and notes from his brother appear in the box, by some mysterious power.

Alternatively: A series of letters from one distinguished noble to another.

Chapter 1: PROLOGUE

Chapter Text

The first time I see it, it’s after the entire debacle of two Ciels in the front foyer of Phantomhive Manor. Scotland Yard takes my brother into custody, and I retreat to the earl’s office, Undertaker a mere few steps behind, and find a large, locked box sitting innocently on the desk.

It’s black, with silver edges. Although under the harsh afternoon sun, the slight royal purple undertone in the black is visible. A large gleaming silver lock, almost white under the afternoon sunlight, ornate and intricately designed, keeps the box’s contents secret.

Pointless, really, if you’re going to leave the key in the lock.

The key itself is also ornate: swirling tendrils of silver and a brilliant amethyst set right in the middle of the bow.

A crest is embossed on both the lid and the back of the lock: a sword and rifle each resting on a weighing pan of a balanced scale, sword on the left, rifle on the right, crossing at the intersection of pillar and beam. The pillar of the scale is intertwining “ribbons” of water and fire. A viper sits coiled around the crown above the crest, head reared.

I breathe sharply out.

A duchy. My brother had in his possession the property of a Duke or Duchess.

“What do you want to do with this, my lord?” Tanaka asks, and I turn to leave.

“Write to whichever family this belongs to. Return this to them and explain the current situation of our house. This crest is one I don’t recognise, so I suppose it’ll fall to you, then.”

“Understood, my lord,” and the door shuts behind me.

Tanaka does as instructed.

Within the hour, it’s back on the desk, along with a reply.

“This was a gift from my father to yours, as proof of our families’ alliance. That was the previous generation’s oath, this generation has yet to do anything of the sort. You may do with it as you wish. Simply be wary of Fate’s retribution, should you choose wrong.”

I get Undertaker to toss it.

I have no use for it, after all.

Undertaker does as instructed.

And within the next hour, it’s back on the desk again.

As is every time we try discarding it.

After the fifth try, I simply give in and leave it.

Eventually, after another few hours, when the sun has set and dinner long eaten, that nagging curiosity in the back of my mind wins.

I turn the key and open it.

It’s empty.

So I close the lid and leave the key in an opened lock, simply ignoring it now, and letting it take up space on a perfectly good desk.

Chapter 2: Ūnus

Chapter Text

It was barely even perceptible. I’d missed it, actually. The only way I knew it was even there was Undertaker’s head jerking up.

“What is it?” I ask, and Undertaker looks at the seemingly ubiquitous black box. “I heard the lock click,” was his response, and I frowned. “Are you sure? I didn’t turn the key, though?”

“I’m absolutely sure,” came the reply, and I reach for the box. Tugging at the lid, it was clear Undertaker was right. It was locked. I suppose there’s nothing for it, then, I think, and turn the key.

The box clicks open, and I stare. “How is this possible?” I demand, and Undertaker tilts his head. “Whatever do you mean, Earl?”

I tilt the box to him, and I see his eyes widen. “How did this note get in here?” I ask, and he shrugs. “It wasn’t my doing,” and I know that’s the only thing I’ll be getting out of him for now.

I reach in and take the letter out.

And I stare.

White, starched paper, classic black ink that turns sapphire blue when the light hits just right, and the family seal in the bottom right corner.

Everything is nostalgic, even down to the degree of the slant of the letters. Letters I’d recognise anywhere.

My brother’s handwriting; my brother’s stationery.

I can’t help it; I read.

Dear: My Youth

Who does he think he is? To take all my effort from me like this? I rebuilt the manor, I took on the role of Earl and Watchdog, I did everything these three years. And what do I get in return? Nothing.

He just up and shows, and suddenly I’m the villain. I’m the liar, I’m behind Sphere Music Hall, I’m behind all the blood collection, I’m the criminal.

Even if all the evidence up until now points in exactly the opposite direction.

People can be so blind, sometimes.

But I digress. The estate, the title of Earl, the name “Ciel Phantomhive”, they belong to me. I won’t accept any other outcome. My brother had better prepare himself, I’ll get what I deserve eventually. And what I deserve is what I worked hard for these three years.

I will not be stolen from.

Game on, brother.

Yours quite hatefully,

Earl C. Phantomhive

I shudder.

Even through the paper, I feel my brother’s hard, piercing stare, his sapphire orbs turning ice blue, can almost picture perfectly the snarl full of vitriol that escapes his pulled, downturned lips, eyebrows pulled down and nose scrunched in frustrated anger.

A spitting image of Father.

“What’s it say?” Undertaker asks, and I can only whisper, “He’s so furious with me.”

Chapter 3: Duo

Chapter Text

The next time it clicks, I was in the process of going through some old ledgers. Undertaker calls me, and points his chin at the box. “It clicked again,” he says, and I rush for that box, my heart thumping in anticipation as I turn the key and lift the lid.

The note sits there, shorter than all the rest.

Only three lines.

It starts the same as the first letter.

Dear: My Youth

My eyes move one line down, and all the air in my lungs vanishes, replaced with blazing infernos of fire, ash and dust and dirt and sand, icy frozen blizzards and freezing winter seawater. I’m choking, even if there’s an abundance of air around me, and I can’t breathe.

Is this how he felt when he got asthma attacks? I can’t help but wonder. They always looked so bad, so harsh, his body wracked with painful gasps that were torture to hear, even worse to experience, I’d bet.

All my strength leaves me, and my knees give out. I hit the floor with a deafening thud, and yet I don’t feel a thing. My knees must hurt, hardwood isn’t the most comfortable to kneel on, but I’m so numb it feels the same as if I were still standing, as if I never kneeled in the first place.

My eyes are open, and yet I don’t see a thing. Silver overtakes my vision. Undertaker’s hair falls in front of my face, and usually I’d snipe at him for obstructing my view, but I can’t even summon the strength to open my mouth to speak.

I taste blood on my tongue, sharp and acrid and metallic, and it just keeps coming. I can’t stop it, don’t have the strength or the willpower to even try.

My fingers clench so tightly around the paper I think I’m restricting my own circulation, knuckles turning white from the sheer force I’m using. My grip is such that it feels as if I’d die holding onto this slip of paper.

My ears are ringing, and distantly, I hear Undertaker call my name. The name my brother had for three years, the name my brother is playing my sick, twisted game to win back. The ringing doesn’t stop, and I remember hitting the floor, eyes closing, still seeing that one line even as my sight turns from silver to black.

This is what I wanted, isn’t it? A sibling spat? I knew there was a probability of this eventuality happening; I planned for it, didn’t I? Then…

Why do those six words hurt so badly?

He’s not my brother any longer.

Yours,

Earl C. Phantomhive

Chapter 4: Trēs

Chapter Text

The third time it happens, I don’t expect it at all.

I wake near noon, and Undertaker lounges on the sofa at the end of the bed, the classic sheet of fresh snow blotted with uniform lines of fireplace ash and shattered sapphire pinched between his fingers.

I jolt fully awake almost instantly, fear gripping every inch of me. The letter this time is equally as short as the time he—

My heart pangs, and I tamp down the urge to outwardly wince. Even after so long, and it still hurts, as though it was two moments ago and not two weeks.

“Wh— when did it come? And what does it say?” I ask, voice giving out halfway and coming out as a whisper.

Undertaker merely leans over and pushes the note into my face, muttering, “Dawn.”

I read.

Dear: My Youth

It’s time.

Yours expectantly,

Earl C. Phantomhive

As Undertaker settles back onto the settee, a chill kisses its way down my spine and settles in the air. I stare blankly, unseeingly, at the wall opposite me, even as Undertaker becomes more serious than I’ve ever seen him.

What did he mean? “It’s time”?

Chapter 5: Quattuor

Chapter Text

Over time, I’ve learnt to listen for the almost soundless click of the lock snapping shut. That black box has become my only means of knowing at any point what my brother is thinking.

So the next time it clicks, both Undertaker and I rush for that box, my fingers fumbling in anticipation as I turn the key and lift the lid.

The note sits there, as always, snow-white and unblemished, ink perfectly blotted onto the unlined paper.

It always starts the same.

Dear: My Youth

Everything is already in place.

It will succeed, I know it. Failure is impossible in this situation. It’s clear I have the upper hand.

Fate is on my side, I was personally told. I was also told the saying “May Fate’s favour be with you,” seemed to be a way most witches tended to ask for Fate’s protection. And even then, most of them didn’t get it anyways.

I hadn’t even needed to ask, one glance and Fate simply said, “Fate will stand by your side always,” and that’s all I need to know.

There is no doubt now.

There never was, to begin with. But there was room for it.

Now, that room simply doesn’t exist any more.

Victory will be mine, in the end.

I will win.

Yours victoriously,

Earl C. Phantomhive

It always ends the same, too: Earl C. Phantomhive.

He was decorated. I wasn’t.

He is the Earl, by decoration and effort. I’m only Earl by birthright.

My heart simultaneously plummets and soars.

I don’t know how it does that, but it does.

It pulls in two different directions, of both dawning dread and exuberant glee. I don’t know which takes precedence over the other; they both weigh equally light and heavy against my conscience.

“I will win.”

He wrote that.

I can see him in my mind’s eye, in that moment of victory: a smug, victorious smirk on his lips, his one visible sapphire eye gleaming with cruel mirth from within the shadows cast by his black top hat, shoulders set, back straight, chin held high; one hand on his black cane and clothes in proper order.

The picture of a perfect noble.

The perfect Watchdog.

Always victorious, no matter the odds.

My brother wrote so surely, that he would win, that I’m starting to think the same too.

The next day, Polaris comes back with news. News of my brother’s first victory. The blood collection facility in Baron Heathfield’s estate was destroyed beyond the point of repair, and the Baron himself was arrested.

And no matter how badly I want to feel despaired, I can’t. And I understood why immediately, even without Polaris’s little temper tantrum. It was perfectly clear.

My brother wrote that he would win.

Deep down, perhaps I was already wishing he would, so I wouldn’t have to lie any more.

His first victory in our very first sibling spat. As his elder brother, I couldn’t be prouder.

“He’s not my brother any longer.”

(And it hurts, all over again.)

I simply laughed, smiled, said as much, and left it at that.

Even if my heart cracked, shattered and bled, damaged just like Baron Heathfield’s blood collection facility.

Chapter 6: Quīnque

Chapter Text

Click, and I run, sprint, for my desk.

My brother’s desk.

I haven’t done anything to earn this for three years, this can hardly be considered mine.

Another note is there again.

Dear: My Youth

They’re back.

One down. They had quite many grievances to air about Baron Heathfield. Something about him being a pervert and philanderer. No matter, that’s over with already; on to the next it is, then.

The plan is already well underway. Moving ahead of schedule, it seems. They did well, better than I thought they would, really. I estimated two weeks for North Yorkshire, turns out I didn’t have to wait as long as I expected.

The next targets are already set. Have I mentioned I adored dominoes in my childhood? The next one is due to fall tomorrow, if all goes according to plan.

If I have to cause a few deaths along the way, then I will. The end will be worth it. This is all for the game, and I am the master of games, after all. I will use any means necessary to achieve the end.

When I win, I’ll personally see that every victim’s family receives proper compensation. I will not shirk my responsibilities. I am still Earl Phantomhive.

This stupid blood collection foolishness must end.

This stupid Bizarre Doll fantasy must end.

And so, since no one else will, I will end it myself.

Yours determinedly,

Earl C. Phantomhive

A day after the letter, Athena’s Sanatorium for Retired Servicemen refused to draw any more blood. The Aurora Society retracted their funding after multiple failed threats, but another organisation stepped forward with generous sums not many could procure.

Funtom Corporation.

My brother’s brainchild.

His pride and personal glory.

And I can’t help it.

I laugh, even as my heart soars higher than I’ll ever reach.

I laugh, even as Polaris and Vega wail in despair.

Even after all this, Funtom remains untouched by Scotland Yard.

Oh, my brother, what an absolute genius you are!

I laugh, even as I struggle to come to terms with my only eventuality.

Victory is my brother’s, after all.

Chapter 7: Sex

Notes:

Don’t be mistaken; I named the chapters in Latin. This chapter has nothing to do with sexual intercourse in any way, it’s simply the number 6 in a language used to summon Sebastian-like creatures. Sorry to disappoint if you were looking for happenings of coitus.

Click, and I whirl from the bookshelves to the desk. Undertaker sits in the window, hair dragging on the floor.

I reach for the box, picking it up. I turn the key and lift the lid, but before I can even pick up the note, Undertaker halts me by speaking.

“We’ve gotten quite obsessed with your brother’s correspondence, haven’t we? And we don’t even know to whom he’s writing. Aren’t you curious~?”

I don’t deign him with an answer.

Dear: My Youth

Tick tock, tick tock, time is quickly running out.

Or so Fate tells me.

A time limit has been set for me; by Fate, of course. How fast can I expedite this? The faster the operation and the more disastrous the destruction, the better.

Well then, challenge accepted. I’ve always loved playing games, after all. This isn’t so different, simply higher stakes, that’s all.

The third is scheduled to fall in just a little bit. I’d wager by the time I finish writing this, they would be done already.

I anticipate a positive report in a few hours’ time.

Tick tock, goes the clock.

And just like the clock, I, too, go.

Yours,

Earl C. Phantomhive

Barely a half day later, the children’s institute had every last one of their major sponsors, all members of the Aurora Society, killed, either by snake bite or pure brute force.

Funtom steps in to fund the institute, too.

And then, just as quickly as they appeared, my brother’s agents vanish, like shadows in the dark, dust in the wind: unseen, but ever present.

It’s then I realise: there’s a sort of beauty in being unnoticed and free to do as you wish.

And that beauty is something I’ve gifted my brother on a silver platter.

Chapter 8: Septem

Chapter Text

Click, and my pen clatters to the desktop, ink smearing across my letter paper. I’ll have to write a new one, but I can’t bring myself to care even as I reach for the box.

Dear: My Youth

It’s my turn now.

Their bishops, rooks and pawns are all gone; the last remaining pieces are the knights and the king.

They have no queen, unless that queen is Lizzie. Even so, their queen is crumbling.

It doesn’t matter to me either way, whether they have a queen on their board or not, because Fate will rule as Queen in the end. Why foolishly attempt to shift something I cannot control?

And so, with the pieces I have at hand, I make my move.

Knight to eternal damnation.

And, check.

Your move?

Ever yours,

Earl C. Phantomhive

I can’t believe this.

I can only stare unseeingly at the note in my hands, tone so arrogantly uncaring, so mocking it cuts.

All my lifelines are gone. Cut one by one, by my brother’s sharp wit, sharper tongue, and even sharper mind.

The resort hotel was shut down barely four days after the letter came, after a report got out that the patrons who were said to have “decided to live there” were actually kept as living blood bags for blood collection.

I was prepared for this.

I accepted he would win, that this would be my loss.

Or at least, I thought I was.

I thought I’d accepted it.

Maybe I still held out hope that I could still win, against the odds.

I suppose I never fully accepted this would be possible.

Chapter 9: Octō

Chapter Text

In one fell swoop, I went from having nothing, to everything, and nothing once more.

In one fell swoop, my brother took everything from me, then had everything taken from him, and now he takes everything of mine once more.

Soon, the secret will come out.

What will I tell Aunt Frances, Uncle Alex and Edward, then?

What will I tell Lizzie?

I lost.

He’s won.

Just as he said he would.

Click.

And why does that sound like finality?

I open the box, and another short note is in my hands.

Dear: My Youth

Checkmate.

I win.

Yours faithfully, until the very end,

Earl C. Phantomhive

“Well played, brother. I concede defeat,” I whisper.

And I stand and watch as my castle of lies comes crumbling down to dust and dirt and ash.

To nothing, as I myself am.

Well played, brother.

Well played.

Chapter 10: EPILOGUE

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Click, and still I desperately open the box, hungering for the slightest insights on my brother’s thoughts like a starving, thirsty fool.

Even if the uncovering of my secret is a mere few breaths away.

It’s my end, after all.

My own personal Armageddon.

At least let me read my brother’s scathing words one last time.

Dear: My Youth

I wish it didn’t have to come to this.

Ciel is so different from what I remember.

Gone is the protective, dependable, strong, capable and cheerful older brother.

In Ciel’s place stands a monster I don’t recognise.

In Ciel’s place is where I should be standing, is where I must stand.

In Ciel’s place is an abomination standing between me and my right, my privilege, my duty.

It’s time for the puppet’s strings to be cut, and the puppeteer to face the music he himself produced.

Let the strings of Judgment’s orchestra play.

Yours ever regretfully and resolutely,

Earl C. Phantomhive

Uncle Alex, Aunt Frances, Edward and Lizzie burst into the room not a moment later, demanding explanations as to a few accusations printed in the papers about the legitimacy of my “clean bill of health”.

And even as I come to terms with my loss, his victory and Fate’s retribution, I tell another lie.

“It’s most likely another attention-seeking conspiracy theory,” I wave it off, pretending I couldn’t care any more for it.

And out of the ruins of my castle a small brick reforms.

Until Lizzie’s look of doubt, leveled straight at my eyes, begins slowly eating away at my resolve.

And I see, out of the corners of my eyes, my brother’s name as the credit for that article’s evidence.

And that small brick crumbles into nothing once more.

“I suppose it’s time I tell you all quite a large secret I’ve been hiding for quite some time now,” I begin, and I brace myself as I walk, willingly, at long last, into the ravenous flames still burning bright and strong in, around, and surrounding my castle’s ruins.

And as I meet my end, I see shards of shattered sapphire meld itself together in those flames, with a setting of pure jet. “Pulchritudo in tenebris (Beauty in darkness),” and isn’t that poetic.

Notes:

And this concludes Dear: My Youth!

Thank you for reading a story I spent barely 5/6 hours planning, writing and fleshing out. Honestly I still think it’s not quite my best, but the Muse seized me by the throat and wouldn’t let me go until I published this, so here we are. :)

Part two of this series will be coming out (not very) soon! Spoiler: it’s going to be very similar to Dear: My Youth. It’ll take much longer than D:MY, though, so please wait for me! I’ll finish writing the whole thing and check it over for any errors and inaccuracies, then I’ll have it published as a complete work all in one go so you guys can read every chapter immediately.

Or would you guys like a prologue first to ease you in?

As always, comments and kudos are extremely appreciated. Please tell me what you thought of D:MY in the comments, and if you liked it, please leave a kudos!

This is me signing off until next time! 💙

#black butler fanfiction

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emilyoracle · 2 years

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Your English teachers lied to you.

Thought I'd post my old writing advice guides onto this blog since I deleted my old one. I hope it's helpful!

Listen. I respect the hell out of teachers. The vast majority of them work crazy hard and most of the time, including the times they give you well-meaning ‘writing rules,’ only want to instill good and helpful habits into you.

That doesn’t change the fact that many of these rules are stupid.

Here are my top five ‘writing rule’ pet peeves, and five rules that should be followed.

✗ Don’t write ‘said.’

Okay, I know this is common knowledge by now, but it’s so important. The concept that you can never write ‘ so-and-so said’ is hurting novice writers’ narratives. Said is invisible. Said is powerful. Said is transformable. If every quote ends in a strong synonym, it is distracting. Sometimes, in an established repartee, quotes don’t need to be tagged at all. Or an adverb following ‘said’ might be better for the narrative than any single verb.

Eg. // “I hate the rain,” grumbled David.

“I love it,” Claire announced.

“You love everything,” he muttered.

“Including you!” she giggled.

versus.

“I hate the rain,” grumbled David.

“I love it,” said Claire.

“You love everything,” he said impatiently.

“Including you!”

✓ Don’t write ‘something.’

Cold hard truth, baby. ‘Something’ is a draft word. It’s what you write when you want to think of a replacement. I cringe when I see it in a sentence that would have been improved tenfold by a specific noun or descriptive phrase in its place. There are times when ‘something’ works or is the only option, but experiment by replacing that word with more description before deciding it’s necessary to keep.

Eg. // He pulled something shiny from his pocket. She craned her neck to see what it was. A metal flask. versus. A flash of light caught the metal he pulled from his pocket. She craned her neck to see what it was. A drinking flask.

✗ Avoid adverbs.

This is true and false, but I’ll address the false part first. The concept that you can’t use adverbs at all is ridiculous. Don’t blindly (!) replace every adverb in your prose with a single verb because someone said you should. You want whatever you are writing to flow well and to deliver the best impact or imagery. Sometimes that means adverbs. Or you might want the verb to be discreet (such as when using ‘said’) but still want to invoke emotion. That also means adverbs.

Eg. // "Don't do that!" she spluttered, panicked by the urgency of the situation. versus. "Don't do that!" she said frantically, panicked by the urgency of the situation.

✓ Use strong verbs. At least consider them.

Verbs make the world go ‘round, people. Most of the time, a strong verb will make your writing flow well and deliver the best impact or imagery. Weigh a strong verb against an adverb + weaker verb and decide the one you want to keep in a scene. Don’t just stick with whichever you wrote first because you grew attached to the sentence.

Eg. // She held up her blood-slicked sword proudly, her other fist raised triumphantly. versus. She thrust her blood-slicked sword into the air, her other fist clenched high in triumph.

✗ Don’t use a thesaurus.

I. HATE. This rule. I had an English teacher in middle school who marked any words she thought you had looked up as wrong. As a young reader with a large vocabulary, I was always needing to prove that I hadn’t just picked a random synonym from a thesaurus, that I knew and deliberately chose those words. (That sentence has a great example of a necessary adverb! Get BENT Mrs E. (She also hated adverbs.)) This is the same idiotic concept as telling artists not to use reference images. Use a thesaurus if a certain word is failing you or you hate every word you’ve come up with yourself. There’s nothing bad or shameful about it.

Eg. // There are no examples for this. I’m not sure how I would even do that. Insert stock photo of someone perusing a thesaurus here?

✓ Don’t use words you aren’t comfortable with.

Now, when you search the great wide web for a synonym to a word and then choose whichever one sounds nice because hey, the internet said it was interchangeable, so it must be! … Yeah. Don’t do that.

I use a thesaurus to find words that I can’t think of in the moment but they are always ones I still know. Every word has a subtle (or not so subtle) connotation that you need familiarity with before deciding it is the perfect replacement. Know your words before you start playing Mix n Match.

Eg. // Amusement in the profession puts transcendence in the performance. (Utter nonsense, written by me and thesaurus.com) versus. Pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work. (Inspiring quote, written by Aristotle)

✗ Don’t end sentences with a preposition.

Whoever made up this rule is an elitist hack. (I just googled it, and supposedly it began with a bunch of 17th century scholars who thought English should have Latin’s grammar, so. Yeah. Elitist hacks.) Ending sentences in prepositions sounds wayyyyy more natural than the alternative. If you don’t want to sound stilted, beat this rule into the dirt.

Eg. // They didn’t know of what she was capable. versus. They didn’t know what she was capable of.

✓ Be conscientious of your sentence construction.

A lot of grammar rules are bogus. Not ending a sentence with a preposition, not starting a sentence with a conjunction, not laying face down on the floor and screeching… Oh, right, that latter one isn’t a rule, it’s just what you want to do when you have to think about grammar.

But, regardless of bogus grammar rules, you need to put thought into your sentence construction. Editing (not writing) is the best time to do this. That’s when you can make sure the words flow together naturally as an individual sentence, as part of a paragraph, and within the chapter as a whole.

Another common construction faux pas that I see is disregarding the sequence of events because you believe it will have greater impact. In reality, if you avoid putting your narration out of order, it usually results in stronger sentences.

Eg. // "Tell me it's not true!" He stood in the doorway after bursting into Kyle's room, panting from his sprint up the stairs. versus. He sprinted up the stairs two at a time and burst into Kyle's room without knocking. "Tell me it's not true!" he demanded breathlessly.

✗ If you break writing rules you’re a bad writer.

If anyone tries to convince you of this, kick them in the neck. (You heard it here folks, kick your DANG TEACHERS IN THE NECK.) (Not really, please don’t.) (If you do, though, don’t say that I encouraged it.) (I’m not encouraging it, I just want to make that clear. Please be nice to your teachers, they have hard jobs.)

Rules were made to be broken. You just need to know the rules in the first place in order to decide to break them, so it’s never a bad thing to educate yourself on general writing advice. Still, there is a fine line between creative liberty and bad writing, and sometimes a famous book or author turns the latter into the former. Know your stuff, but don’t be afraid to throw your stuff into the fire and watch it burn. (Figuratively. Don’t literally throw your possessions into fire, that’s irresponsible on so many levels.) (A lot of parentheses in this rule rant.) (Now that’s just bad writing.)

✓ Take writing rules and advice with a grain of salt, but don’t ignore them.

As a novice writer, or even an experienced one, it is hard to differentiate between which rules work best in your own prose. You may only realize it in hindsight. That doesn’t mean you should ignore every piece of writing advice or dismiss criticism of your work. Think critically about your own style, read books you enjoy and think about their styles, and deliberate– don’t dismiss. Maybe your writing style requires no dangling prepositions or never using an adverb. That’s your decision to make. Just… don’t make it because you’re too stubborn to see how you can improve.

That’s all I’ve got! Do you have any pet peeves about common writing advice? Feel free to reblog and add your own!

Don’t forget to write a sentence of your story today! Thanks for reading~

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #writing help #writing problems #writing resources #writerblr #writing community #writing reference #writing guide #your english teachers lied to you

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bnha-more-like-bnh-gay · 3 years

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Rarepair headcanons because I am ignoring my problems

Serodeku:

Izuku reenacts the Spider-Man movies with Sero. Izuku is MJ. They also alternate being Spider-Man sometimes

They skate together

They get very protective when people call their boyfriend “plain”

They play dnd together

Sero tries to make sure that izuku gets some rest

They’re both kinda insecure, izuku more than sero, but still; and they make sure to reassure each other as often as possible

Sero likes listening to Izuku’s ramblings and finds them cute. He has told izuku this, only for the poor boy to imitate a tomato

After Izuku has been particularly reckless, Sero takes advantage of his quirk, wraps Izuku in bubble wrap, and tapes it there

Tokodeku:

Jocknerd bf and goth bf, we love to see it

Tokoyami teaches izuku how to sword fight

They start a dnd club at U.A.

Izuku talks to dark shadow a lot, Dark Shadow approves of him, and has claimed the spot of best man at their wedding

Izuku comes up with ideas to help Tokoyami gain control with Dark Shadow

Dark Shadow is very protective over Izuku, no matter how many times Tokoyami tells him that he can take care of himself, Dark Shadow will put himself between Izuku and any form of danger as often as possible

Dekoyama??? Aoyama/izuku:

Aoyama gives him makeovers, obviously

Aoyama drags izuku to the mall and tries to revamp some of his wardrobe, but he actually finds the “pants” and “flannel” type shirts cute

They help each other train their quirks

Aoyama is trilingual, and teaching izuku English and French.

Izuku always brings Aoyama home some new cheese

Y’all, I love them so much. There needs to be more aodeku content

Monoshinsou:

They have people watching dates. They come up with stories for the people they’re watching; their job, family, background, etc.

They judge people together

They call each other “love”

They’re both dramatic bastards, who will flop onto their lovers lap and proclaim their death due to a minor inconvenience

They jokingly sh*t-talk class A

Shinsou said “I love you” first, and it was because Monoma brought him coffee to class

Monoyama:

Like monoshinsou, they’re both dramatic bastards, who will flop onto their lovers lap and proclaim their death due to a minor inconvenience

They go shopping together and pick out the most dramatic pieces of clothing for each other

I love them so much, please 😭✋

They have tea parties every week, where they sh*t talk everyone else and gossip

They are both fancy bastards, and they wear the most exquisite outfits to go grocery shopping, and the outshine everyone

They both actually make clothing, they’ll go fabric shopping together. Gift exchanges are often articles of clothing that they’ve made for each other

Momomei:

They work on gear together!!!

Momo makes sure that mei gets some sleep

Mei helps redesign momo’s suit

They often work together with izuku to work in gear and such

They actually got together after izuku introduced them. He had been working on gear with mei, and studying with momo and he thought they’d hit it off. He was correct

Shintsuyu:

Dude they’d be so cute

Tsu is a vent gremlin, and you can’t change my mind. So she and shinsou will play a game where they try to find each other. Tsu is in the vent and shinsou is in the classrooms. Shinsou will try to find whichever vent she’s in, or she’ll find whichever classroom he’s in, in 20 minutes or less

I always headcanoned tsu as a dog person, so they’d have two cats and two dogs, and a bunny that they named Deku

They like comparing their friends to animals, hence the bunny, Deku

Kamideku:

Kaminari is a flirt, and izuku does n o t know how to handle it

Kaminari likes listening to izuku’s ramblings, and can keep up with them. He’ll ask questions on things too, and Izuku has never felt more appreciated

I don’t know why I feel like they’d have so many animals, but I do. They’d have so many, man. Three cats, two dogs, four sugar gliders, a hamster

Adhd power couple. They hyperfixated on complimentary things at the same time one time

Kaminari tutors izuku in English, and izuku turots kami in some other subjects. He’s also teaching kami JSL on the side. Kaminari has a live of languages

Momochako:

Study dates, Momo asks ochako to quiz her a lot

Ochako takes to floating momo’s things when she wants attention. Especially when Momo is studying. She makes a game out of how many things she can float until the other girl notices

Uraraka’s confidence does wonders for momo’s. Uraraka always makes sure to reassure momo that she is strong and that she can do this

Momo makes Uraraka whatever her heart desires. Uraraka blushes all the time, and momo takes great pride in getting her girlfriend to blush

Minatoru:

Mina clings to everyone, but especially to toru

They give each other stuffed animals so often. They’ll go to the store to get food, and come back with three stuffed animals that reminded them of each other

Please, they’re so cute 😭✋

They will play hide and seek, I stand by this.

Mina helps toru design a new costume. I hate hers, it’s horrible, and sexist, and not suitable for a fucking child

Toru says that pink is her favorite color

They flirt with each other all the time. Half the class thinks it’s cute, half of them used to think it was cute.

Iidamomo:

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, but study dates. they quiz each other, and it actually gets pretty competitive

They also have rage room dates. I will not budge on this. Iida tried to murder someone, and I am excited to see momo finally snap. She deserves it

They alternate paying for dates, don’t try me.

The go hiking a lot

They started liking each other after one late night, both having nightmares. Momo had tea, and offered some to Iida. They talked until the early hours of the morning

They can’t flirt. They try. But they’re horrible at it. They’ll compliment each other all day long, but they cannot flirt.

KIRIDEKU, MY BELOVED:

Y’all,,, y’all, I love them so much

They train together, obviously

They ran into each other one night in the common room after both having nightmares. They talked about middle school, how they were both bullied, izuku’s quirk coming in late, katsuki being abusive, kiri being bullied because his quirk wasn’t “cool.” After that, they were practically inseparable.

They started going on dates, not that either of them knew they were dates. The entire class knew, so did the teachers, so did the rest of U.A. Kirishima picked up on it first after a comment from Mina, he had is realization.

So, he started courting Izuku. Not thag izuku realized this. He brought him flowers on most ‘dates,’ he bought him hero action figures whenever he could, he complimented him until Izuku was red in the face (which was honestly very easy.) Still, izuku remained ignorant to the fact that he was indeed dating Kirishima.

The final tipping point, was due to Uraraka’s help. She was quite tired of watching the two of them pine for each other. It was amusing for the first couple months, watching Kirishima try so hard, and Deku being totally oblivious. However, she took pity on her friends after a while.

So, Uraraka devised a devilish plan to get the two together. She involved Mina, Sero, and kaminari in this plan. What was the plan, you ask? Oh, simply to trap the two in one room until they broke through izuku’s obliviousness.

Kirishima finally “straight” up admitted his feelings, to which Izuku had the sudden realization of “oh my gods, have we been dating this whole time??” Yes, Izuku. Yes you have.

They have two anniversaries after that.

Let’s be honest, they are really, annoyingly, horrifically lovey dovey. Kirishima brags about having “the manliest and bestest boyfriend in the world.” Izuku flaunts his many PowerPoint presentations on how talented and incredible Kirishima is

Uraraka doesn’t know if she did the right thing by helping them. She is so tired

Tsujirou:

Jirou makes playlists for tsu

The few sane ones in class A, I swear

They go on walks in the rain as often as they can

They go for dates in the bookstore too. They each pick out an album and a book for the other to listen to and read

Y’all, they make so much sense togetherrrrr, I’m love them 🥺

Jirou started liking tsu after the crew saved bakugou. Jirou sat with tsu after momo, Iida, kirishima, Todoroki, and izuku apologized and sat with her. They had movie night, and Jirou joined the Bakugou saving crew and tsu with taking well into the night. She just appreciated how much tsu cared

Tsu started liking Jirou after she helped Iida, momo, and izuku try to keep the class in order. She appreciated how diplomatic and calm she was

Jirou would talk to izuku all night long about how gay she was, and how adorable tsu was. So, izuku decided to try and suggest ways for Jirou to ask her out.

She did not end up getting to ask her out though, as Tsu walked up to her the next morning f and asked if she wanted to go on a date. Jirou said yes. Izuku cried

Izujirou:

They make playlists for each other

They go for runs on the beach a lot

They both have insomnia, and often spend time making blanket forts and talking, or FaceTiming and listening to music

Jirou walks into the common room once a week looking for new music. She started liking Izuku after he made a playlist for her for one of these occasions.

They’re both quite awkward when it comes to romance, but neither of them will shy away from facing the truth. So, Jirou made izuku a playlist filled with love songs that reminded her of him and sent it to him. Sadly, izuku is dense as hell.

So, then Jirou wrote a love song and told izuku that the song was for him. Sadly, izuku is dense as hell.

So, then Jirou write analysis about izuku’s quirk for him. Sadly, izuku is dense as hell

So, then, after thinking that Jirou had done so much for him, izuku made her a playlist filled with love songs. Jirou took this to mean that izuku had finally picked up on her feelings, and accepted them.

So, they started to go on dates. Not that izuku knew this, as he is dense as hell. All leading up to izuku finally confessing his feelings on one of their ‘dates,’ to which Jirou responded, “dude, we’re already dating? Aren’t we? I- I thought that was obvious??”

May this awkward couple be forever blessed

Tokoyama:

Goth/prep boyfriends, we love to see it

At least once a day, Aoyama will proclaim that Tokoyami “shines almost as bright as he does, in his fabulous emo way”

They sword fight, and come up with really dramatic scenarios and scenes that they’re in

They bond over being in the izucrew and their shared love of swords. Aoyama took fencing classes in middle school, and Tokoyami got into sword fighting after watching it in pirates of the Caribbean as a young child. He is self taught and watched countless videos on the art of sword fighting

Tokoyami asked Aoyama our by dramatically presenting him with a dagger and going “will you accompany me on a formal outing as my lover?”

Shinyama:

They flirt constantly

No really, it’s getting quite annoying. Someone please stop them.

They both plop down in random areas and proclaim their deaths, the difference between them, is that Aoyama will burst into shinsou’s room, and yell “love, I’ve been murdered. Mourn for me” while plopping down on shinsou’s lap. Shinsou can be found laying face down outside aoyama’s door, and when Aoyama goes to open the door, he just goes “I’ve been murdered.”

^^ one time, shinsou did a very fun Halloween prank for this, where he poured fake blood all over himself for Aoyama to find him an hour later, asleep.

Nap dates. Aoyama get glitter all over shinsou’s room

Iiyama:

Aoyama enjoys making Iida blush, obviously. But he takes joy in doing it specifically when class is about to start. Aizawa is tired of his shit

Here is how I think an iiyama conversation might go:

Aoyama: I ask for one thing in this relationship-

Iida: Aoyama, you know that’s a lie-

Aoyama: for my boyfriend to carry me around all day-

Iida: Aoyama, I cannot feasibly do this with class-

Aoyama: and I don’t think that’s too much to ask for 😤

Anyway, Aoyama got carried around all day that day, despite Iida’s blush and Aizawa’s eye twitch

Everyone in the izucrew is close, but Iida and Aoyama started to get close after Iida told the crew about Stain. Aoyama wanted Iida to know that he wasn’t alone, and that he wanted to help him. So he started packing extra cheese for lunch and giving it to Iida. Iida was very confused at first. But this was Aoyama trying to court him. This was only made apparent by momo and Jirou telling Iida that this was aoyama’s attempt at expressing romantic interest.

Aoyama flirts with everyone, that’s just who he is. But with Iida? Oh it was tenfold. The poor boy was red in the face constantly. Aoyama was a persistent little bugger too, following him around and calling him ‘mon amour’

Kirikamideku:

My dearest traffic light trio, I’m love them

They train together, and kiri and kami always appreciate izuku’s analysis snd ideas

Kiri falls even more in love with izuku and kaminari when they go off on rants. Izuku rants and kami can keep up with him so he asks questions about it. Kiri loves to watch his boyfriends go on rants, I don’t make the rules, but I do enforce them

They started to get closer after kami and kiri found bakugou causing a ptsd flashback (could be on purpose of an accident, up to the reader.) they stated with him and tried to talk him through it. After this, izuku started to tell them about having been a “late bloomer” and being bullied, etc. (I don’t know, man; I tend to over share after flashbacks and after panic attacks)

Izuku tutors them in several subjects, but kami tutors them in English. Kiri just falls in love with his smart boyfriends

Izuku is teaching kami JSL and kami is helping izuku with English and Italian (personal headcanon that Italian has been one of kami’s special interests) kiri loves to listen to them, and finds it relaxing and calming to hear them do this. When he has panic attacks, he’ll ask them to tutor each other in different languages

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