#I let him keep his colors because his colors are Good

[nereidprinc3ss]

strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf. 

Stupid scarf, you think. 

Stupid door. 

Stupid wind. 

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient. 

You look at the stack of papers and sigh. 

Stupid Lord Byron. 

Stupid cafe. 

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly. 

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable. 

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust. 

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance. 

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once. 

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café. 

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk. 

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor. 

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here. 

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up. 

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you. 

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that. 

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing. 

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out. 

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles. 

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go. 

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone. 

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot. 

“How did you do that?” 

His cheeks turn slightly pink. 

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack. 

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently. 

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble. 

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look. 

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels. 

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second. 

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself. 

He was totally in love with me. 

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again. 

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while. 

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it. 

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café. 

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout. 

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer. 

Spencer. Spencer. 

It feels important. 

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away. 

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you. 

Spence. 

Reality sets in. 

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk. 

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away. 

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way. 

“Who was that?” 

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in. 

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up. 

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality. 

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character. 

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination. 

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression. 

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

 Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading. 

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more. 

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table. 

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin. 

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real. 

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed. 

Adorable? Get a grip. 

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges. 

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley. 

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents. 

So that’s cool. 

You’re cool with that. 

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer. 

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers. 

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet. 

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again. 

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it. 

Nah. Boys are dumb. 

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it. 

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone. 

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line. 

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it. 

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second. 

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless. 

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long. 

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh. 

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard. 

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid. 

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice. 

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again. 

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible. 

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air. 

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company. 

But his job is important. 

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.   

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present. 

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer. 

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits. 

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly. 

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm. 

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now. 

“I would.” 

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted. 

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair. 

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles. 

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way. 

He says none of that. 

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards. 

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real. 

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair. 

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute. 

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper. 

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird. 

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go. 

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic

[harmoonix]

🧚🏼‍♀️Fαιɾყƈσɾҽ🧚🏼‍♀️

*Unlock your inner fairy*

────────────────────────────────

Come away with me now to the sky

Up all the hills and the sea

Far beyond where memories lie

To a place where Im free to be me

────────────────────────────────

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Earth Risings (Capricorn, Taurus, Virgo) have that amazing personality thanks to their strong aura and energy. They're that chill yet wholesome person

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Midheaven in Fire Signs will mostly wanna have a job based on their desires and on what they truly want/desire from life

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Having your 4H in an earth sign it can indicate your home can be your biggest comfort, out of all the places

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Moon aspecting the Ascendant brings that type "serene" energy to the native, calm, peaceful, I love how they resemble those things

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Saturn aspecting Venus want a high standard relationship because for them loyalty and teamwork matters a lot in the relationship

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Pluto aspecting Sun/Moon/Ascendant can be judged for who their are, or heavy criticized, it's important to be you even if you have haters

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Moon in Gemini/Gemini Degrees 3°, 15°, 27° moon loves this energy of self - expressing, I always think about this placement as "life in colors"

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Neptune aspecting Mars will always have a fiery energy, is electrifying and yet charismatic, full of boosts of energy

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Juno aspecting the IC (4th house) will have that familiy oriented spouse, possibly someone who wants also to live a traditional marriage life

────────────────────────────────

Let the stars fill your soul, when the moon cradles all

So, to yourself be true

────────────────────────────────

🧚🏼‍♀️ - When you have your North Node in your 9H you gonna decide which faith you wanna follow, which religion, education, schools, you have free will in that area

🧚🏼‍♀️ - North Node in the 3rd/5th house gives you the chance to express yourself how you want, you achieve things in your life by being yourself

🧚🏼‍♀️ - When you have your Mars in your 3rd/6th or 8th house Mars will react either very energetic either very tired. It's important to keep a balance between how lazy you are and how productive you are

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Water Suns can easily attach emotionally by others, crying in the same time?? Girl yes! Telling your secrets to each other? Girl no! There always should be a boundary between you and your emotional side

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Neptune in the 2H/4H/9H/12H can come from a background with a spiritual family, like your family members can be into spirituality

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Mars/Pluto or Venus in the 5H get tempted easily, like their lust is overdosed here, take care at your temptations especially if you're in relationship

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Suns in the 12H can have a various impacts, on the good side this placement can help at growing spirituality and the bad side it is that it will make you to self - doubt a lot (You're worth it🫶🏼)

🧚🏼‍♀️ - I already said in numerous posts that Venus in Earth Signs men are gentlemen, like their aura is screaming that (GENTLEMAN/MY MAN) I'm looking at Taurus Venus while saying this ofc

🧚🏼‍♀️ - My Juno is in fucking Aquarius okay..so there was once an Aquarius Sun guy who saw me as his "relationship material" and I was like "Um nope" his Juno was in Capricorn while my Sun is in Capricorn and I had no like for him 😅🫶🏼

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Can we appreciate Capricorns for wanting to date older people so they don't have to suffocate themselves with the ones who have not matured at a certain time

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Cancer Moons will basically attach to your heart like a spider cloth, and it maybe devour it at some point. If you love them they gonna "devour" your love

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Moon in the 1st/3rd/5th/9th houses love to party and enjoy life, the soul of the party placement literally

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Juno in 2H/Juno in Taurus is giving spoiling spouse,girl "you wake up with 24k gold earrings beside your bed from your spouse"energy

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Aries/Scorpio and Sagittarius Mars are those bad bitches who nobody plays with like, they don't accept it

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Mars in the 11H or Mars in Aquarius can become quite obsessive/possesive around their friends but in the same time can have lots of conflicts with them because after all Mars is the planet of war

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Stellium or lots of placements in the 9th house can show love for traveling/exploring/ even learning new things

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Stellium in the 5th house or in Leo can indicate a lot creativity, a very talented person, can indicate you love being yourself as well

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Juno in the 11H or in Aquarius can indicate your husband will for sure be one of your closest friends

🧚🏼‍♀️ - If someone has Pluto - Sun aspects you can tell they can be misunderstood a lot, is hard to fit in the norm if you're just trying to make a difference

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Aquarius Suns and Risings are different from their family members or relatives, like when you go for example and visit their family, these natives will always stand out of them

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Sun in your 6H/12H can make you just tired or drained easily, try to not force yourself to do certain things if you don't really want that

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Mars in the 1H/Aries Mars is an icon placement, it shows a lot of motivation and energy towards the things you wanna do in your life

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Jupiter conjunct/trine/sextile Mars makes you extremely ambitious, very desirable, and you can actually manifest things so fast with these placements

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Venus aspecting the Midheaven (in good aspects) can be appreciated at their work for their personality/aura/vibe

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Having more Cardinal Signs in your chart than others (Aries, Cancer, Libra, Capricorn) shows you're not afraid of change, sudden changes, you're ready for everything that comes in your life

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Chiron aspecting Ascendant (all aspects) can indicate a very big journey when it comes to self - discovering and healing yourself!! Your healing era is precious

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Having your 8H in a fire sign shows a person who is very sensual/passionate/has lot of desires and lots of naughty thoughts

🧚🏼‍♀️ - When you and a person share the same Lilith sign, you can both understand eachother on a psychic level, you can also tell which bad traits you have to eachother

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Pisces Saturn has a lesson about becoming more spiritual and finding your inner faith in a way, being more connected with yourself

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Sun/Lilith or Saturn in the 10H can have really big issues with their dads, the dad can be controlling/strict or just mean with some of these placements

🧚🏼‍♀️ - Chiron in the 2H can also be about being more healthy in your diet, like eating more healthy food and keep a balance in your body

~ Bad bitches grew up with Tinkerbell 🧚🏼‍♀️🫶🏼 ~

#astrology #astro observations #aesthetic #autumn aesthetic #birth chart #astro notes #astrology observations #placements #astro community #horoscope #ascendant #fairy #magic #aesthetic fairy #magic aesthetic #fairycore #fairytale #childhood #inner child healing #venus #sound of the nature

[kingkaizen]

𝓽𝓸𝓸 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱!

∘ desc: size kink <3

∘ ft: virgin!choso

∘ includes: nsfw, size kink, dirty talk

In the heat of the moment, Choso’s incredible size didn’t seem to faze you at all. The way you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, tongue lapping up the copious amount of pre as your eyes set on his, taking in his expression as you continued. He could barely keep his eyes on you, the intense eye-contact making his eyes flutter closed every few seconds.

He’s never felt like this with anyone else, so vulnerable and exposed as you were forced to wrap two hands around the length of him all. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop the groans falling from his bruised lips, a faint blush coloring his cheeks in embarrassment.

Giggling at his sheepish reaction, you pushed your hand against his large shoulder, watching as he gave in to your attempt at shoving him down against the mattress.. Climbing on top of him, his hands immediately gripped at your hips, strong and calloused fingers holding you tightly in place.

“No need to be embarrassed, Cho. You can feel how wet I am for you, can’t you?” With your hand still gripping the base of his dick, you rubbed yourself with him up and down your glistening slit, knowing he could feel the way your arousal coated his length by the way he shudders.

“F-Feels so good.” His mind was completely gone, body on cloud nine as he felt the way you split yourself on his cock. He wished he could keep his eyes on the way your head was thrown back, eyes clouded over as you struggled to take him all in. He was very aware of his size, painfully so, he couldn’t ignore the possibility of anyone pushing him away because of it. Yet, he never imagined just how much he would like the feeling of you shaking in his arms, fingernails digging crescents into his thighs as you whimpered at the sight of your greedy cunt attempting to take him all at once. 

“You’re t-too big!” You squealed, yet your movements contradictory as you continued working yourself down his length, his soft moans egging you on. He felt so awkward, not knowing what to do but make pathetic sounds as he felt you tighten up more and more every second. Grabbing his hand, you guided him to your throbbing clit, urging him to rub it in tight circles just like you’ve been teaching him. He bucks his hips up as he feels you cream around him, your slick coating his entire length allowing you to slip down even further. It felt almost too good, tears welling up in his eyes as he writhed underneath you in ecstasy, holding you close to his body as he allowed himself to let go for the first time inside of you.

© kingkaizen | do not copy, steal, or duplicate!

#jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso #choso smut #choso x reader #choso x reader smut

[mxtantrights]

Can you write a Jason Todd x reader where they knew each other before he dies but then they reunite. Maybe they were robins at the same time. Y/n has element powers and their eyes change colors based on element currently using. They are afraid of having too much power. Established relationship please!!! I cannot handle slowburns

Broken Bird comes home

the night Jason died was the worst night of your life. The worst. No other night compares to it. Not the night after you spend in the fetal position and crying. Or the night after the funeral where there was no body. Or the night on the first anniversary of his death.

Night time is the worst for you. You just remember getting the calls from Bruce and your whole world shattering. Jason was more than your friend. He was your first crush, your first kiss, first relationship.

He used to do this thing when you two would hold hands on patrol. Your gloves covered your wrists so he would sneak his thumb inside of the leather and rub the inside of your wrist. Something about wanting to feel your pulse.

You had stopped being Robin about three months before you found out Jason died. You never really felt like you could be as good as Dick. And Jason was the only reason you stayed on as long as you did. But even that had it's caveats.

Bruce relied on you and your patience and understanding way more and tried to get Jason to model himself after you. Even though you tried to be more like him, less rule following and more march to your own beat and ask for forgiveness later.

But sometimes the two of them would put you in the middle of their endless tiffs. It drove you up the wall. And one night you just decided right then and there to stop being a Robin.

It's not until after the first year past Jason's death that you decide to go back on the streets to fight crime again. This time it's very different. You don't have anyone to answer to but yourself. And you have no one to look up to anymore.

You don't pull your punches. You don't think in black and white anymore. Everything is gray. And you operate in the areas that used to scare you.

It isn't long before Bruce reaches out, because he's been keeping tabs on you. He asks if you're sure about what you're doing. And he tells you that you're always welcome to come back, as yourself not as a Robin.

You respectfully decline his offer. You hated him the first eight or nine months after Jason's death. You hated how he wasn't there. You hated how that clown just walked free and continued terrorizing the citizens of Gotham.

You actually got to run into him once. Tracked him down, got him all by himself. And delivered a beating that brought him so close to the pits of hell that even you got scared. Bruce showed up then, told you it wasn't right. That you couldn't take justice into your own hands like that.

His words had no affect on you. You hated him for letting the clown go free like that. And you hated that he had a new Robin already.

It's probably not until the third year that you find your footing. You know how to operate as a vigilante. You don't get too mad when you see the new Robin anymore. And you talk to Bruce to check in and still decline his off to join his team.

In those two years you get better at controlling your powers. Yo hardly used them when you were Robin. And after Jason's death you over used them, packing a few punches that moved tectonic plates underneath your feet. This was a balanced way of using your powers. You were coming to understand them.

And then your world shatters again.

One night while on patrol, you notice your being followed. So you take a few turns to lose them. But they're pretty good. So you decide to corner them into an alley way. One where you can confront them.

In the dark you corner your tail. He stands a foot taller than you. All that you can really make out is that red helmet of his. Nothing else tells you about him. He's even using a voice modulator.

You ask him why he's following you. He doesn't answer. You tell him to back off. He doesn't answer. You, at your wits end, run ups o him and are about to deck him when he grabs a hold of your wrist.

You try to pull back but he holds you. It's not that tight. He's not hurting you, you realize. He's just holding you. When you look down at your wrist, you realize that he's touching you right where Jason did.

You wrench your wrist away from him and take a step back. You're about to haul off a bunch of curses at him when he starts speaking to you.

"You're pulse." he says.

Your spine goes straight at that. Jason used to say that, why is this guy saying that to you? You moves to take another step back but you don't. You look right at him.

"Jason?" you ask.

The man starts moving at light speed. All at once the helmet it coming off. You see a tuft of white hair amongst the black. And then he takes off his domino mask. You see it in his eyes. It's Jason, it's your Jason, but it's not.

"How is this possible?" you ask yourself, taking a few steps forward.

When the tip of your shoes meet his boots, and he doesn't move, you take it as a sign that he's okay with you being this close. You hesitantly reach up towards his face but you take your hand back. You don't notice the storm clouds you're forming. Not until the rain starts coming down.

"It's me." he says.

You can't help the tears that come out of your eyes. Or how you start sobbing uncontrollably. Jason wraps you up in his arms. You feel your whole body start to go slack in disbelief. He's real. He's alive, he's here.

"I'm sorry I made you wait." he says.

You wrap your arms around him tightly now, "You're back. You're really back."

You pull back from him a bit, he looks down at you. You can read the worry in his eyes. You reach up and cup his face. He lets out a strangled breath.

"I missed you so much."

a/n: I had to stop myself before it came a behemoth and I dragged you on for a slow burn. this was really fun to write. Especially the elemental part! thanks for sending this in !! <3333

#dc x reader #dc imagine #Jason todd imagine #Jason todd x reader #Jason todd fic #Jason todd #dc fic

[xoxoavenger]

So Scarlet (It Was Maroon)

pairing: Luke Castellan x Fem!Reader

summary: Y/N likes to romanticize her relationship with Luke, much to the anger of everyone around her. Percy wants to remind her of the rose colored glasses, he just doesn't know how.

word count: 3076

warnings: some angst

part 1

birthday celebration main masterlist

Y/N may be going crazy.

At least, that's what everyone thinks is going on. But they would never say that to her face. Not because they're scared of her, but they are scared of what Percy will do will if he caught them. For some reason, Percy had adopted her as his older sister and even though Luke had tried to kill him, he felt bad for Y/N. He had watched as Luke brought the sword down on her head, watched Y/N's heart break as she poured herself out to him. He knew she must be in pain, must be hurting. The wound was still fresh, having only taken place a couple weeks ago. 

But she was driving him insane with all her memories, and he was going to explode soon.

She didn't always say it out loud, didn't always reminisce with everyone, but they all knew what was going on. Today she had decided to tell them, since it was just him and two of her siblings in the stables, and Percy has been reminding himself all day that not only is Y/N a woman but also a counselor, so if he punches her he'll just cause more problems. Oh, and she's in pain already, another good reason not to punch her. 

"One time," Y/N starts, and Percy has to clench his teeth to keep the sigh back. He'll punch anyone else who sighs, though. They're in the stables, cleaning up with Silena and her other sister Allegra. "Luke and I snuck out to the stables and spent the night here." She's smiling as she says it, and Percy steals a look over at Silena. She's pursing her mouth and raking, so Percy decides he shouldn't say anything either.

"Don't you have hay fever?" Allegra tries to remind her, but it's like Y/N can't hear her. It's probably for the better, to just let her finish this story and they can all get on with their lives.

"The cleaning harpies don't come in here, so they didn't bug us, and none of the campers wanted to come out here either that late. It was one of those nights when the Northern Lights were visible - that's only happened once in all the time that we've been at camp." Y/N is still working on cleaning, and Percy wants to rake his eyes out.

"Did you freeze your ass off?" He snarks, not able to keep his mouth shut. She turns to him, snapping her head. He feels bad, but he could not stand her talking about Luke any longer.

"It was last September at Camp Half-Blood. The weather was great." She snarks, but she's clearly gotten the memo to shut the fuck up about Luke. Percy freezes, because he thought this was recently.

"Last summer?" He mutters, pausing his work. He and Annabeth were the only two that knew Y/N and Luke weren't actually dating; they weren't sworn to secrecy but they both knew it would be better if no one else found out. But according to Annabeth, they had only been dating a couple months when Percy showed up, so why was she talking about something that happened before they were dating.

"You spent the night with him before this summer?" Silena has also paused her work, but Y/N doesn't look at any of them, just keeps working.

"Spent the night? What are you talking about?" Percy feels so lost and he hates that feeling.

"You didn't hear?" Allegra asks, and now she's not working either. "For the past month, Luke was sneaking into the cabin to sleep with Y/N."

"Yeah, and she hasn't slept since." Y/N throws her rake down, stomping out of the stables, clearly angry. The other three watch as she leaves, her hand coming up to wipe her tears.

"Maybe because she has a head injury from the bottom of Backbiter." Percy snaps, going back to his work.

"Thank God we don't have to worry about Luke sneaking in anymore." Allegra mutters, and Percy tries to take a deep breath because he's not Y/N's sibling and he just made fun of her.

"She's not sleeping, so it's not a great solution anyway." Percy settles on, ignoring Silena's side eye.

~

"What do you think will happen after Camp?" Luke muttered into her hair. They're laying on a blanket on the beach, Luke's arm around her shoulders so she had a nice pillow for her head. She was holding his hand, rubbing her thumb up and down his skin.

"After camp?" She mutters, the setting sun and the warmth from summer making her tired. She ships to lay more against his chest, letting go of his hand as he moves it down to her waist.

"Yeah. We have to leave eventually." Luke tells her, rubbing his fingers up and down her arm. She throws her own over him, lazily rubbing circles around his clothed ribs. This is supposed to be for show, but she's not sure who's looking.

"I don't like thinking about that." Y/N sighs, frowning. She doesn't know what to do without Camp; sure, she's done schoolwork, she knows more than most high schoolers do, all thanks to Chiron's rigorous classes. Because there weren't many people during the school year, they would trade off days of actual teaching and free days of homework. She really didn't want to go to college or get an actual job.

"We have to leave at some point." Luke tells her, and she shutters.

"Can we talk about something else?" She asks, opening her eyes into the sun and looking into him.

"Sure." He can tell it's agitating her, so he shuffles a little and closes his eyes as looks up at the sky. "What's your favorite flower?"

"Lavender roses." She answers quickly. She waits for a second, knowing Luke will ask another question. "You don't remember the rose class I taught you?" She smirks. A couple weeks ago while they had overseen arts and crafts she had been painting roses. Luke hadn't even known there was different colored roses, and being the daughter of Aphrodite she had taught him all about each meaning.

"Red is love," He names off, and she nods against him. "Yellow is friendship. White is innocence." He pauses, and she knows that he has just named off the easy ones that he knows.

"Alright, so purple is different than lavender, remember that? Purple is still pretty, it's passion and infatuation. But lavender is unique love." She's smiling at the thought of someone giving her these roses, of Luke giving her these roses.

"Unique love." Luke repeats, nodding his head. "I'll remember that." He tells her, but she shakes her head.

"You will? Because I already told you once and you didn't remember." She giggles. He shakes her, moving so both his arms around her now. She shifts to be more comfortable, and she's sure she could fall asleep.

"No, I'll remember this time." He kisses her head, and she once again wonders if there's someone around or if he's doing this for her.

She wonders if there will ever be a day when she doesn't have to ask that question.

She wakes up, in the middle of a deep breath. Her heart is racing, and she has to remind herself with a reach of her hand that Luke left. He's gone now, and he's not coming back. He clearly didn't want to take her with him, and if she would have even gone is another question she doesn't know the answer to.

She gets up and puts on a sweatshirt, a camp one that's Luke's but no one will know it's Luke's. She takes a deep breath, trying not to cry over the fact that the sweatshirt is starting to lose his scent. It's the last thing she has of his, not wanting to take anything from his siblings and cause a scene. She's just lucky Annabeth and Percy didn't tell anyone that it was all fake.

Her mother hasn't been back to visit, and she's not sure if it's a good or bad thing. She doesn't want to talk to the goddess, knowing that all the conversation will accomplish was Y/N's embarrassment and making her even more upset than she already was. What was the point of talking to her mom when she knew that something was going on with Luke? She had to know that they lied, had to know that it was fake.

Yeah, it was probably good her mom hadn't come to visit.

She was wearing nice slippers, so she didn't walk to the beach. Instead she walked to the fields where the flowers grew. It was cool, not cold and not as dewy as a normal morning but still wet. She stood in the field a slight breeze making her shiver slightly.

"What are you doing?"

She turned quickly, heart beating fast. Her mother was standing in the field, somehow glowing even though the sun hadn't risen. Y/N didn't know what time it was, but the sky was still dark, so she knew it was early.

"Do not disrespect me right now, Y/N." Her mother snaps, and Y/N's eyes widen. She hasn't even said anything and her mother is already mad at her. "What are you doing out here?"

"I couldn't sleep." She answers. Aphrodite makes a face, and Y/N doesn't know what she said wrong but clearly she said something wrong.

"If this is about the son of Hermes," Her mother turns her head, as if in disgust, and Y/N sighs.

"I thought you liked tragic love stories." She says it without thinking, as if her mom were a normal person. As if her mom weren't a goddess.

"This wasn't a love story at all!" Aphrodite yells, and Y/N shrinks back. She looks away, trying to keep the quick rising tears back.

"It was to me." She whispers. She can't help it; everyone seems to forget that she was in love with Luke, that he broke her heart and she can't just snap back from that. Her mother's words cut deeper than a knife, slicing her heart open.

"What?" Her mom asks, not expecting this much talkback. No one says these things to gods, even if the gods are their parents. Especially to Aphrodite. Her children generally praise her.

"I was in love!" She screams, not caring if she wakes everyone up. Her mother started this, and she will finish it. It's all her mom's fault anyway; if she hadn't had the stupid rule for her children, none of this would have happened. "It was a love story because I was in love. It doesn't matter what it started out as or that it ended with my heart broken instead of his. I'm sorry I let you down. Is that what you want to hear?" She's breathing heavily, staring at her mom. Aphrodite might as well be a statue with how frozen she is, and Y/N thinks her own mother is going to kill her right now.

It might just be worth it to have gotten that off her chest.

"Who do you think you are?" Aphrodite whispers lowly, moving closer to Y/N. She tries not to shrink back, but it's hard. She's not afraid, but for a moment she thinks of Luke. The thought of never seeing him again, not having the chance if she dies right here. She closes her eyes, but everything goes still. After a moment, she opens them to see her mom looking down at her with concern and some unreadable emotion. "Why did you lie to me?" Her mom surprises her with that question.

"I didn't think someone could fall in love with me in four months." She says quietly, looking down at the ground. She pulls the sleeves of Luke's sweatshirt over her hands. "And the thought of breaking some innocent guy's heart? I mean, it's a little outdated, Mom." She tries to joke, but Aphrodite just stares.

"He was in love with you." The goddess says, causing Y/N to shake her head. "Really, you're gonna go against me? Your mother, a goddess?" Y/N gives a small smile.

"He left." She says, voice cracking with emotion. She shakes her head again, wiping her face. She doesn't know when the tears fell, but her face is wet. "I should get back to my cabin. Thanks for," Y/N doesn't know why Aphrodite came to Camp Half-Blood, why she visited in person, and she honestly isn't sure she appreciates it. But she walks past her mom, leaving the goddess behind her in the field.

"Don't give up hope yet." Y/N's not sure what her mom means by that, but she doesn't turn around, knowing her mom is going to turn into her true form to leave. The gold light washes over her, and all she can think about is if her mom meant on Luke or on love.

~

"My mom visited me this morning." Y/N says to Percy as they get their food. Traditionally, campers were supposed to get their meals and eat at specific tables with their cabin members only, but Percy didn't have any and Y/N was lonely, so she had got Mr. D to allow them to eat together. Chiron wasn't thrilled when he found out, being a stickler for the rules, but they all knew he wouldn't police where they ate. They settled for a couple stares across the pavilion every day during meals.

"In person?" Percy asks, grabbing a premade sandwich from the tray. Y/N had told him all about her mother's visits when they had first gotten close, so Percy knew how rare and scary an in person visit was.

"Yeah. I don't know why she came, but I got the feeling I had embarrassed her with Luke." Percy bit back a groan. He hated talking about Luke, but it seemed to be Y/N's favorite thing. He felt bad enough that he couldn't tell her to shut up (yet), but it was getting on his nerves.

"What'd she say?" Percy asks as they head to their table, the only completely empty one beside the Zeus table.

"She told me it wasn't a love story, so I yelled at her. I mean, who does she think she is?" She complains, setting her food down across from him. He feels his heart rate spike as he struggles to reign himself in.

"Do you think maybe she was trying to protect you?" He asks, not even able to take a bite of his food yet. He's not sure why he's trying to get Y/N to see the error in her thinking, when she seems to just get more delusional as time goes on.

"From what?" Y/N scoffs, tensing. Percy can tell this is going to be a fight.

"Luke," He says, as if it's obvious. Y/N squints and shakes her head.

"Why would she need to protect me from Luke?" She asks, leaning back. "I mean, when we were dating, he-"

"It wasn't real!" Percy screams, getting everyone's attention. He didn't want to do this here, but he can't take it anymore. It's like she's somehow convinced herself that their relationship was perfect. She's made Luke into a different person in her mind. Or maybe Percy just thinks he's a villain because he tried to kill him and is trying to overthrow the gods, but that's more solid reasoning in his mind than Y/N's.

"You don't know what you're talking about." Y/N warns lowly, not wanting a scene. Her cheeks are flush, because there's no way no one is going to know after this. Everyone will know.

"I was there, Y/N. He tried to kill me. He tried to kill you!" He argues, and watches as Y/N takes a deep breath. He had watched Luke grab her, watched him hit her with the bottom of his sword and let her fall to the ground. He had stood there in fear as Luke stepped over her lifeless body. That isn't love; it can't be love. He has to get it into her head, but he doesn't think even this will.

"I was there too, Percy. And my mom told me that his heart was broken. I'll believe the feelings more than I believe a couple words from a broken heart." She gets up, leaving her plate untouched, and walks out of the pavilion. Percy watches her, along with every single other camper who has stopped what they're doing to watch the fight ensue. He looks over to Annabeth, who is looking at him with a frown. He hangs his head, knowing he messed up.

Percy takes a deep breath and gets up to go find Y/N and apologize, but Annabeth is suddenly at his side, hand on his shoulder.

"Let her have some time. That was a lot. I'm sure she'd like to be alone." She says it with a smile, but Percy knows it's his fault and he knows Annabeth blames him too.

"I'm sorry." He mutters, putting his head into his hands.

"I know you are." She tells him, sitting on the bench but not removing her hand. "But she needs time. It was a lot to process." And her mom probably didn't help either, Percy thought, but he didn't want to tell Annabeth about it. He couldn't betray Y/N like that.

"Hopefully she'll be okay." Percy sighs, watching Y/N disappear into the woods.

"She will." Annabeth squeezes his shoulder and then moves to her own table, leaving him alone.

He wishes he had more patience, but he was not known for his patience. It would be fine. He'd apologize when Y/N came back, and he'd have a conversation about not bringing Luke up at every moment.

It would be fine.

Meanwhile, Y/N was stomping through the woods. She knew she was annoying, that everyone was tired of her talking about Luke, but she never expected Percy of all people to get angry with her. She definitely didn't expect him to call her out in front of all the campers.

She was deep in her thoughts when she heard a crack in front of her. Her heart dropped, because even in the middle of the day she was still scared. She had been looking down when she was walking, angry and making sure she wasn't going to trip or step on anything.

When she looks up he's there, holding lavender carnations. Everything stops, her stomach dropping and heart in her throat. She doesn't want to believe her eyes, but then he steps forward.

"They didn't have any roses."

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler (also thanks to the comments from @jadahxx and @commanderfreethatdust who commented on the last fic asking for a part 2 sorry its angst <3)

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader fluff and angst #luke castellan x reader angst

[zarvasace]

Next is Depth! He is dark Sky. (He gets his own special dramatic portrait—the perspective mostly works? Idk I need to practice and find some good refs for this sort of thing.) So much rambling about him and his design under the cut.

Masterpost

The most striking thing about Depth is how normal he looks. Disregarding a few odd features, he looks like Just Some Guy, at least until he opens his mouth. He occasionally feigns being mute around others so he can keep the charade of being human up for longer, since his voice sounds truly awful. Depth is paler than Sky with much darker hair and orange-red eyes, but is otherwise identical. He doesn't mind that, and chooses to play it up a bit with very similar clothes, too. His tunic is rust-colored, opposite Sky’s spring green, and his chainmail is pointed and jagged on the ends instead of smooth. He wears a purple sash with more angular designs and lines, which matches the purple charm that keeps his cape on. 

Depth’s sailcloth is both a source of pride and a sore spot. He made it to contrast Sky’s, dark and tattered, but one of his very secret desires is to get one as beautiful as Sky’s, made by Sun, maybe dark, but functional and lovely and a reminder of her. 

See, Depth doesn't understand Sun—he doesn't actually know her, though he has memories from Sky. He wants her to be a damsel in distress that he can rescue, he dreams of her choosing him over his Light, but he doesn't realize that she won't. He loves his idea of her. While Depth follows [insert LU bad guy here]’s directives, he makes his own plans and he has his own agendas, and many of those plans aid him, in some way, to win Sun’s affection. 

However, as Depth has been growing into the leader role, he's starting to become attached to the other Darks. He's annoyed by them, but his plans have started to expand to benefit them in a way that doesn't necessarily benefit him, too. He might have a little altruism in him, after all. 

Despite that, unfortunately, Depth remains someone who would not save the world, but someone who intends to damn it over and over again. He doesn't flinch at the thought of Demise’s curse, in fact, he would welcome it. He likes the idea of having a purpose and a destiny. He wants to coddle the few people he cares about and would set everything on fire to do it. He says he loves Sun more than Sky ever could, but he would lock her away to keep her "safe."

Depth is the de facto leader of the group, since he's driven and has ambition. He has a very strict idea of what the other Darks should be doing and gets upset when they don't do it. He hates being touched and is ruthlessly practical. Once, when Nothing was being particularly annoying and tried to steal Depth’s sailcloth, Depth broke at least one of Nothing's fingers. He hasn't gotten close to injuring someone like that again, due to equal parts nobody bothering him like that again and him trying to be a little gentler. He doesn't hesitate to threaten injury to keep order, though. 

Depth knows about Ghirahim as a sword, and wants to wield it, but is under the impression that he needs to prove himself worthy first. (Whether or not [LU bad guy] actually intends to let him use it is a different story.) Depth is one of the more skilled sword fighters among the Darks, remembering formal training, but his sword isn't anything special. In a fight with Sky, they would be evenly matched if it weren't for Sky’s ability to use a Skyward Strike, and Depth's inability to block that much light. 

Depth’s special ability is his voice. In a mundane way, the others try to not make him use it, because it's almost painful to hear. In a magical way, Depth’s voice carries over long distances. When he sings, he can summon creatures like bats, crows, rats, and snakes, and they'll listen to him for a time. When he screams, his voice is a magical, short-range wave of destruction. Yes, he's an evil Disney Princess. Depth doesn't feel any strong affinity for the animals he attracts, but he doesn't let Dire or anyone else hurt them, and he doesn't send them to their deaths. He mostly uses them as spies and distractions. 

Depth is one of the more dangerous members of the Dark Chain—not because he’s physically imposing or particularly powerful, but because he can see beyond the next mission and is determined to ruin the Lights once and for all. He's one of those who would happily kill his Light—but only after Depth shows him how he has lost everything dear to him. 

#my art #lu z darks au #is this even lu anymore #i mean technically im using the lu interpretations so okay #linked universe

[jalwyn21]

What are the chances that Joe was “blue” because of her? And that he has color back in his face too because he’s no longer with her? Because I just have this sense that she is an unreliable narrator based on the 10 different reasons she has given for the breakup and none of them include her taking accountability for her role in beating that man down due to her behaviour.

Well, let's see! There are NO mentions of him being "blue" on Rep. None! Like if Joe is just naturally predisposed to be anxious and depressed you'd think she would have noticed it immediately, so he wasn't broken and blue from day 1. Joe is not like this naturally. He was a "killer" and "cool" back then. Took her a couple of years to break her favourite toy. So, he was introverted yes, but not blue.

The Joe is "blue" references appear later on Lover. "I'm with you even if it makes me blue" (Paper Rings; Lover), "We're so sad, we paint the town blue" ( Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince Lover), "I blew things out of proportion, now you're blue" & "It's so excruciating to see you low" (Afterglow) "But I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm if your cascade ocean wave blues come" (Peace; Folklore), "Don't want no other shade of blue but you" (Hoax; Folklore), "Is it really your anxiety that stops you from giving me everything or do you just not want to?" (Renegade; written after Evermore) "Soldier down on that icy ground Looked up at me with honor and truth Broken and blue, so I called off the troops That was the night I nearly lost you" (The Great War)

Lover was apparently done by Feb 2019 and released Aug 2019, Folklore was July 2020, and Renegade was being written maybe December 2020.

So the broken and blue Joe wasn't a thing before 2018. Suspicious huh 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

It took her a couple of years to break her favourite toy and the themes of Joe being "blue" and accusing him of cheating came in.

So, 4 years of mindfuckery and abuse assuming the first 2 years were decent enough… 🙄

Also, funny how the boy who was brave enough to fly to the US all alone with a backpack (they literally had to buy him clothes) and charm Ang Lee and Yorgos back in 2015 to give him roles is now all anxious and insecure. Suspicious huh 🙄🙄🙄 Yeah Joe, where the anxiety at back in 2015? 🙄 This is not something an anxious boy could handle.. 🙄 Almost like someone made him feel he wasn't good enough or successful enough… 🙄🙄🙄

#free joe alwyn #jalwyn #q&a #nonnie #joe alwyn #anti taylor swift #joealwyn #toxic swifties #shit swifties say #toxic taylor swift #free joe alwyn from psycho swifties #joe alwyn is beautiful

[jazeswhbhaven]

He Never Misses! (Leraye Limited Event React I)

Okay so, here's the damn thing about this event.

I loved the amount of peeking into each noble's dynamic with each other so much and I love the fact that this is pretty much a slice-of-life approach to how a "normal" day in Gehenna was and is.

In an overall sense we get a good dose of Sitri, interesting pop-ins from Astaroth and Paimon, and a little surprise visit that had me squealing later.

This, my lovelies is 6 part reaction because I took that many damn screenshots and I honestly wish there was a better way to upload them all on one or two posts without a photo limit. BUT alas...

Make sure to grab a snacky snack, and let's dive in...to the life of long-haired Leraye~ ┬─┬(◕‿◕♡)

So we enter with Astraoth just minding his business and cruising around the palace and Sitri just comes up and starts getting onto him about not being at the palace lol

Turns out he was gone for a while because he was tending to his hobbies which is corrupting...

You hear that everyone? He corrupts anyone so keep your windows open (ʘ‿ʘ✿)

I'm really crying right now, so basically he's telling why it took particularly long this time around because he was dealing with someone who hated their dead-end job. (sounds fucking familiar right?)

nah now think about it, imagine wildly that someone at pb put that in the event as a joke when in reality somebody either once quit before or secretly a current employee can't stand work and low key just slid that idea in....buttt let's get back to the event lmao

Sitri hit 'em with the "Sorry I'll you finish but-" treatment. Though it's for good reason..

Awhhhh Roro...(yes my nickname for him leave me be) LET HIM FINISH

So basically what happened is that Sitri lost his favorite pen (rly?) it's the color of Solomon's hair and he put some of this man's hair in the ink and now he's lost it and he can't find it.

It's funny because Astaroth said the same thing as me "Why would you do that?" but he understood the sentiment behind it and was willing to give Sitri some insight on who to ask to find something like that.

LERAYE!

So our boy has crazy good eyesight. Like dangerously good to the point where I want to swap my eyes out with his because good lord I'd love a reason to not spend money on glasses with these expensive ass lenses.

So fun side note here that everyone leaves their door open except for Sitri, who most likely just likes his privacy or is used to having his door closed because perhaps the room he stayed in during Hades always had the door closed? Something along those lines I would like to think.

So now here are some nice Leraye and Paimon dynamics <3 our poor fave femboy lost his piercing recently and was asking Leraye to help find it. So it appears that either the piercing is shaped like Ppyong like the barette on his hair, or it's as big as he is, which last time I checked isn't Ppyong technically the largest red lump? (idk everyone else is pretty tiny when compared to him in the red lump family)

Okay nvm my previous thing it's shaped like Ppyong (LMAO) and this sounds cute actually, beside the fact that it becomes a fucking bomb all of the sudden (ʘ‿ʘ✿)

like imagine the TSA having a field day finding one of those...

I love how Paimon is like "Someone might die but most importantly my piercing is going to be destroyed :("

Amazing priorities bby, I support you.

Also, Astaroth is interested in how the piercing works and its explosive properties so he wants to tag along (he's so weird i love him) And Leraye with his cheery self is happy to help. So he goes to the window to start his search with those amazing eyeballs of his and his hair is blowing in the wind (imagine bouncy music in the background, his hair flowing and him humming while trying to find it)

Paimon is over here thirsting over watching him and it really fuels my "Paimon probably flirts with the nobles from time to time but he's never serious about it"

So within moments, he says he has a lead but hasn't really found it yet so the three go out looking around and well, so far not so good. This is pretty much the third time Leraye had moved positions and and updated on the status of finding the piercing and Paimon is getting a bit impatient.

You see that little pouty angry face? This event isn't voiced but I can hear him now getting all upset. But tbh I get upset too when I'm trying to find something and it's always "almost, maybe the next place it will be there"

Thanks Astaroth, really helping out here lmao

So it appears that even though he was circliing around alot he finally appears to have a lock in on the piercing's whereabouts which excites Paimon. Astraoth starts being poetic about Leraye's rooftop running and Paimon is just like-

You heard him! Stfu and get your ass movin' Roro!!! (I love how Paimon is super agitated easily when it comes to something he cares about lol)

I threw this scene in here because I was like "ah yes the devil with the good eyes I wish that were me lmao"

okay so pitt stop...because even though he's not known for his endurance he surely wasn't having a problem during his h-scene so....( ͡° ͜ʖ├┬┴┬┴

So when he's catching his breath Paimon and Astaroth catch up whose pretty much questioning how Leraye can even see this far ahead and it sounds like they traveled pretty damn far. (remember it's a flashback so Astaroth didn't know about his abilities yet)

And then out of fucking nowhere Leraye just goes to this random hole in the alleyway and throws something at Astaroth while Paimon is like omfg watch out???!!!

So we find out that it was Astaroth's snake that was in that hole just hiding out. So i noticed his name is Apophis and the described him as white but he's clearly black .-. ANYWAY.

(don't worry everyone he was just coming back from filming his role in Meg the Stallion's music video /j lol) So apparently Apophis was lost and Roro was looking for him but weren't they looking for Paimon's piercing?

Lol Apophis bites Leraye and possibly others when Astaroth isn't around and that's cute. Ofc he'd only trust his owner.

And ofc we find out that the snake has swallowed Paimon's piercing...and I'm just like. Oh yikes...so how are we getting this out? lol

So for this little scene Leraye explains plainly that he can see the shape of the piercing inside Apophis' stomach and yet the other two can't and that Leraye just assumes they can because he's naive in his thinking just like most devils, a childlike wonder and view.

And while Astaroth is reflecting on that Paimon asks for him to get the earring out which again I'm like how is he even going to do that???

┬┴┬┴┤•ᴥ•ʔ├┬┴┬┴ oh.....

he can make his voice deeper?

Me too Apophis...me too. I'm shaking, crying and throwing up.

Because think about that shit...Astaroth coming into your room to just randomly corrupt and fuck with you and even if you are corrupt he has a thing for making it even worse...and then he pulls this poetic, deep-voiced nsfw audio shit on you and now you're committing crimes you never even knew you could because of it.

BUT that stops for now with part 1, phew...only 5 more to go...! (i'm really sleepy rn so I'm going to get a couple hours of sleep and then get up and start back up again lol)

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb leraye #whb astaroth #whb paimon #whb gehenna bois❤️ #whb event #whb spoilers #whb screencaps #let's goooooo noble event!

[bestworstcase]

What do you think Salems goal is, exactly? It's obviously not ending the world to kill herself, but honestly I feel like she has ulterior motives than just "overthrow the gods".

I personally wouldn't be surprised if she wants to rule in the Gods stead after overthrowing them. She's already brought up replacing the gods, and seems to believe that humanity "needs" gods/guidance, but specifically Not The Brothers. I only say this because she was the one who said that humanity was more divided than ever without the gods and that they need guidance (and essentially replacement gods), not Oz.

It's hard to say whether she Still believes this, but since she parallels Darkness (to an extent) and destruction is essentially taking out the old to make way for the new, I definitely wouldn't be surprised. The Brothers are the old, Salem is the new n all.

I just find it hard to believe that all she wants is to overthrow the gods and do... nothing afterwards. I believe characters like Cinder have stated that they're going to be high up in her new world?? I'm not sure tbh.

Plus, I think her goal being that she wants to rule the world after killing(?) The Brothers would be an interesting dilemma for the main characters. Overthrowing the gods? A good idea even Oz would agree with. Salem ruling? ...Well that might not be such a good idea (she *did* immediately go to "let's spread our word and destroy anyone who goes against it" in the Lost Fable, but I have different opinions on whether or not it's reliable so it likely doesn't matter to you). Either way, it'd make things interesting for our heroes. At least, that's how I'd write it.

Thoughts?

to be clear. my stance on the reliability of the lost fable is that jinn answered with absolute honesty exactly the question ruby asked, which was “what is ozpin hiding from us?”—i think she obeys the same rule ambrosius does. you get EXACTLY what you ask for.

so ‘the lost fable’ includes:

information ozpin knows or sincerely believes to be true, AND

actively chose to hide from team rwby, oscar, and qrow.

the reason jinn frames it as a fairytale (“once upon a time…”) is because she is conveying specifically ozpin’s perspective, and fairytales, stories, are fundamental to how he sees the world. she is telling his story in his words, because that’s what ruby asked her to do!

but the lost fable doesn’t include:

anything ozpin doesn’t know

anything salem told ozma that ozpin believes to be false, except when a synopsis is necessary to provide context

anything that ozpin knows but wasn’t actively keeping a secret (for example, the story omits her answers to his questions about the other relics because neither their original locations nor their powers were something ozpin was hiding; he told them what the lamp could do, when they asked, and if they’d asked about the others he would have told them that too).

so jinn herself is not an unreliable narrator per se, but the question ruby asked necessitated that jinn tell only ozpin’s side of the story, without filling in any gaps in his knowledge or correcting his misunderstandings and mistaken assumptions. the lost fable is therefore honest (in the sense that no part of it is a deliberate lie) but biased and limited (because ozpin is fallible and doesn’t know everything.)

which is something ozpin himself points out in his commentaries in the fairytale anthology—on the infinite man: “no one who wasn’t there could know what really happened. and even then, they would only have a small part of the story,” for example.

all of which is the long way around to saying that i do trust the dialogue in the lost fable to be accurate to what the characters actually said, and the scenes to be accurate depictions of events as they happened (if he was there) or as ozma imagined them happening based on what salem told him (if he wasn’t). the parts i don’t trust are the narration, because that’s the part colored by ozpin’s perspective, and the elisions of ozma’s dialogue in the key ozlem scenes, because things salem says in response to ozma lack the context of what ozma said.

(think about what listening to someone make a phone call is like; if the conversation is about a complex subject, it’s difficult to follow along and easy to misunderstand what the person you can hear is really trying to express.)

and on the topic of those elisions: if salem wanted to rule the world herself, i think she would have made an effort to do so before ozma returned. she is demonstrably capable of both merciless conquest (razing vale) and inspiring awe (slaying the nevermore). she’s immortal. she cannot be killed. before ozma returned there was absolutely no one who could have prevented her from, like, taking over a kingdom and expanding it into an empire with herself as the eternal god-queen.

but she didn’t. she lived alone in the woods, in a miserable hovel. given the well-maintained path leading to her doorstep, she had to have been visited on a regular enough basis for whatever community lived outside the woods to go to the effort of paving the way to her shack. which says… village witch.

left to her own devices, that’s what she did with her life: found some village or town at the edge of a forest and built herself a little house in the woods, just close enough that the townspeople could find her when they needed her but otherwise isolated.

and then once ozma found her, they fixed up her house together and lived happily for… apparently quite some time before ozma brought up “humanity seems more divided than ever” as a problem.

there’s nothing in the lost fable to suggest that salem wanted anything more than the life she had with ozma in that cottage. everything she says about bringing humanity together is specifically in response to OZMA telling her he wasn’t satisfied. she’s supporting HIS stated ambitions.

and like… she’s not… wrong? her phrasing is extremely blunt, but… you can’t bring people together without giving them something to believe in—a cause, a creed, a faith, a purpose—no one is going to unite for the sake of being united. ozma despairs that “humanity seems more divided than ever,” and salem goes… well yeah. the gods killed everyone and fucked off. people just need help. we could help. we have the will and the means to change the world, make it better than before.

but.

the problem is.

the task ozma was given isn’t to help people or make the world a better place; it’s to prepare for the final judgment by uniting the whole world—the god of light instructed him to end conflict full stop. ozma needs everyone to unite in submission to the brothers.

and salem is absolutely correct that you cannot achieve that except by conquest. you cannot, you cannot, you cannot unite the whole world under one creed without genocide. it is impossible.

this is why i say the divine mandate is a fundamentally genocidal ideology: the premise is that humans as they are now do not deserve to exist and must be ‘redeemed,’ and the only way to achieve ‘redemption’ is through genocide. the logical end of any ideology that requires universal adoption or universal acceptance of a certain belief or creed is genocide.

salem understands this intuitively; when ozma asks her “are we sure that this is right?” she spells it out to him in plain terms that it’s what is necessary to achieve his goal. her implication is that if the end does not justify the means, he needs to reconsider the end. i don’t think she cared either way as long as ozma was happy, until she learned the truth about what he wanted to do and why.

as i’ve said before, i believe her final statement—why spend our lives trying to redeem these humans when we can replace them with what they could never be?—a) reiterates her longstanding dream of humankind overthrowing their “old masters” and claiming the power of creation for themselves to “perfect their own design” and b) quotes/paraphrases the closing lines of ‘the shallow sea’ to express this idea because she’s trying to communicate in ozma’s language, through stories.

and i think ozma understood her perfectly well, he just doesn’t think her third option of rejecting the mandate is possible. in the present, oz only suggests salem is out to destroy the world when he’s trying to scare hazel into turning against her; what he tells his inner circle is that salem’s after the relics because she wants to “change the world.” he believes she’s doomed to fail.

anyway, as to the question of what salem wants now: it’s revolution.

pretty… overtly. “your so-called free world.” her protégée was an enslaved child who grew up wearing a shock collar in the gilded heart of ozpin’s crowning achievement some sixty years after the vytal accords abolished slavery, and the huntsman who found her in that situation used her suffering to groom her for the huntsman academy instead of using his authority to help her by enforcing the laws against slavery.

watch WOR: kingdoms. compare the almost tender tone with which salem talks about the democratic councils that represent the people to the utter disdain she has for the huntsmen academies that exist solely to train “the next generation of defenders who will fight and die to protect the lifestyle that they’ve become so accustomed to.”

she wants to defeat the god of light, yes—or at least prevent him from ever returning, i do think Plan A might be “destroy the relics”—but she also wants to tear down the systems ozma built to uphold the divine mandate, systems that turned a blind eye to slavery and injustice and abuse. she wants the whole world to know the truth.

i think she also probably wants humans to coexist in peace with the grimm, and i suspect that will be the biggest sticking point; but salem clearly feels affection for the grimm, and—gestures at menagerie’s lack of a grimm problem—coexistence between people and grimm is possible, and because salem herself is grimm she’s never going to have peace or freedom until the existential war between humans and grimm is ended.

and i think she does intend to make good on her promises to her inner circle, in some form. hazel believes she’s planning to create a “new world order” (which, definitionally, a world with no huntsmen academies and no everlasting war is) and mercury says she’s “promised [them] everything,” which he takes to mean that they’ll be “top dogs in her new world.” but the one thing we know for certain about what salem offers to her followers is very vague; all of them project their own desires to fill in the gaps and come away with wildly disparate ideas about what this ‘new world’ will look like.

what salem has always wanted is freedom. she’s never shown any personal ambition to rule—even her rebellion, she isn’t the one who leads the charge, she walks among them. before ozma returned, she was… just the village witch somewhere. i do think it’s really quite likely that her plan is to tear down everything ozma built, destroy the relics or defeat the god of light, participate in rebuilding from the ashes to ensure that the new world isn’t founded upon lies or subjugation or eternal war against her existence, and then just… find a place where she can live. all she ever wanted was to leave the tower. i don’t think that’s changed.

[ikeromantic]

Ikesen Boys React to a Tattooed MC pt 3

Thank you again to @otomedad for this fantastic idea ^_^ This one has Sasuke, Yukimura, and Kanetsugu! Approx. 2900 words (yes, I know. They keep getting longer xD)

Sasuke

You glance at Sasuke, wondering what he’s thinking about. His eyes are trained on the night sky, his lips curling in a faint, barely there smile. He notices you looking and turns his head to regard you. 

“Are you cold? It’s colder tonight than I expected it to be.” 

“No. I’m good.” You feel warm anytime you’re around him. Your very own moderately-awesome ninja.  

He rubs his eyes before turning back to look up at the stars. “Alright.” His fingers curl over yours, a gentle caress he doesn’t even seem aware of. 

You feel an ache in your chest, sweet and sharp, as you regard his profile. Somehow, that face has become so precious to you, but you don’t know how to tell him or if you even should. Friendship is precious and fragile, you think, as you look back up to the sky. 

A sudden gust of chill night air tugs your hair from its messy bun. Strands blow around your face, and you can already feel the tangles forming. “Damn,” you sigh, trying to catch hold of them. 

Sasuke looks back at you with that same whisper of a smile. “Here, let me help.” He moves to sit behind you. “I’m not as good at this as Yoshimoto. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” you murmur, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. His legs are to either side of you, and if you were to lean back, you’d be flush against his broad chest. “Here,” you hand him your hair clip, “and, umm, thanks.”

His fingers comb through your hair, sending a shiver down your back. It feels intimate and sensual to have him touch you like this. He tugs your collar down as he corrals your unruly hair. Then you feel him pause, a slight inhale.

“You have a tattoo.”

“Oh. Mhmm.” You try to find words, so you don’t sound like an idiot. But his closeness is so distracting! “It’s, umm, it’s a lotus?”

You feel him lift your hair to get a better look. “Is it alright if I see it?” 

“Sure.” You hold very still as he pulls your kimono down a little further, fingertips brushing your inked skin. Just a friend, you remind yourself sternly, as your skin reacts to that light touch.

He is quiet for several moments. You can feel his gaze on your skin, and the faint trace of his fingers as he follows the intricate lines of the petals and leaves. “The lotus has a lot of meanings,” he says finally. “Divinity. Rebirth. It is an excellent choice for a tattoo.”

You smile, a flush of honeyed heat flooding through you at his words. “I liked the spiritualism of it. For me, it’s like a reminder to keep an open heart. And an open mind.” 

“A good thing to remember. Especially for a woman who finds herself transported via wormhole to the Sengoku.” 

You can hear the laughter in his words, though he doesn’t laugh. Sasuke’s emotions can be hard to read, though you find more and more that you can tell how he feels by the slight changes in his expression, his tone, the depths of his caramel brown eyes. “Ha, yeah. I never expected to have to be this open minded.” 

“I’d say you do exceptionally well. At everything.” Sasuke’s breath tickles the hair at the back of your neck, and you feel the slight press of his chest against you. “The detail on this flower is very good. The shading and color. I’d like to look at it in better light.”

Your skin dimples as his words send another little shiver through you. “O-okay. Sure. When we go inside. You can. Look.” Despite your best efforts to not sound affected by his touch, you stutter your response. 

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” He lets go of your hair, wrapping his arms around you. You are pulled up close against his chest, his chin rests on your shoulder. “You keep shivering.”

There is no way to reply at first. Your heartbeat is pounding loudly in your ears and you feel like you might not be able to breathe because he is hugging you and it feels - holy cats - it feels so good and so right and he’s just supposed to be a friend but isn’t this -

“Are you ok? You went very still. It reminds me of the prey response in rabbits. You know they freeze to blend in with the environment and can hold -”

“I’m fine.” And you almost manage to sound like it, if a little choked. “I definitely do not feel like a rabbit,” you add, your voice nearly normal. 

Sasuke nods. “Alright.” You aren’t sure, but you think he sounds a little breathy himself. “Does this . . . warm you up?” 

“Yep.” You feel very very warm in his arms. Hot, even. 

“I am warm too. Very warm.” He says nothing for a few breaths, then, “It’s what friends do for each other, right?”

“Right.” You can’t imagine him hugging Yukimura like this. Or Yuki allowing it. But you don’t say that, because you don’t want him to stop. 

“Good.” He pauses again, thinking. “I’ve never had a friend like you before.”

You smile at that. “Same. But you’re my best Sengoku buddy, and teacher. And a lot more.” You close your mouth on the almost-confession before it can bubble up and ruin everything. 

A slight shudder passes through him, one you can feel. Then, “We should probably go inside. It’s late and it will only get colder up here.” 

“You’re right. We can’t sit like this all night.” Part of you is very sure you absolutely could. 

He reluctantly lets go of you, taking a moment to pull your hair back into the clip at the back. Sasuke is quiet as he brushes his fingers over your tattoo again. “I don’t know how I didn’t notice it there before. Your lotus.”

“I try to keep it covered. Fewer questions that way. I don’t think many women in this time have them.”

“No, they don’t.” He stands. “But maybe they should. It is exceptional. You -” He wipes at his eyes again, taking his glasses off. “I think I got something in my eyes,” he says, blinking. 

You wonder what else he was going to say, but the moment passes and instead, he holds his hand out to help you up. His grip is strong and sure and comforting. “Thanks.” You aren’t sure if you’re thanking him for the hand up or the compliments, or for keeping you warm. All of it, you guess. 

Sasuke’s gaze travels over you slowly and you feel yourself tense at the unexpected inspection. Just as you’re about to ask what he’s looking for, he speaks up. “Do you have any other tattoos?”

“Guess you’ll have to find out,” you grin, teasing. You can’t help but notice a faint flush from the tips of his ears down to his neck as he looks away.

He clears his throat and nods, a little unsteady. “Y-yeah.” 

You catch him watching you from the corner of his eye and stealing secretive glances at you the whole way back to your room. You’re pretty sure he’s hunting for signs of another tattoo. This will be a fun game, you think, ignoring the little twinge in your heart.

Yukimura

“I don’t know why you wanted to come,” Yukimura huffs, walking at your side up the steep hill. “You’re so slow and your face is all red.”

You glare at him from the corner of your eye, wondering the same thing. It seemed like a great idea when the two of you set out from Kasugayama for the day, but after a few hours of walking, you were ready to strangle him. 

“Pfft. I’m holding back for your sake. You have uh, you have stubby legs!” You poke him in the ribs, only half joking. 

“I can’t have stubbier legs than you.” He pokes you back harder than you poked him.

“Oh really?” You take a breath and push off your back foot into a run. “Then why am I in front of you,” you call over your shoulder, taunting. This is a mistake you immediately regret as your foot catches on a rock and you tumble forward.

Yukimura tries to catch you, but he’s a little too far back and more than a little surprised. “Hey! Are you alright?” The teasing is gone from his voice, replaced with genuine worry as he kneels beside you on the path. 

You roll over and lay on your back, feeling embarrassed and a little bruised. “I’m fine,” you groan.

His eyes move slowly over you, looking for any sign of injury. “You can’t always charge forward like a bo- oh!” Yukimura’s hand darts forward, lifting the edge of your kimono. 

“Hey!” You smack his hand and the cloth flutters back down over your leg. “I’d expect that from, like, Shingen, but -”

“I wasn’t trying to peek. You have a mark. It looks like a bruise.” His lips form a precious pout and you feel your annoyance seep away at the genuine hurt in his expression.

With a little effort, you sit up and carefully tug the edge of your kimono back up your leg, looking for the injury. Only there’s nothing there, just your Totoro tatt. “I’m fine. See?” You start to stand but he puts a hand out.

“What is that? It looks like a really fat bear. Or maybe a squirrel.” Yukimura leans toward your leg, poking at the inked skin. 

You try to pull your kimono back down over it. You aren’t sure what would happen, but showing someone a Ghibli tattoo 500 years before movies exists is probably some sort of world ending time event. You wish Sasuke was here to intervene or at least give you some hint about how to answer, but he isn’t and Yukimura is poking your thigh. “It’s not a bear or a squirrel. It’s a forest spirit.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking incredulous. “It doesn’t look like one. Aren’t they supposed to be majestic? Or scary? This one looks funny.”

“Well. He kind of is. His name is Totoro and he’s my favo-ah, he’s the umm, the forest spirit for my home town. So you shouldn’t make fun of him.” You cross your arms, trying to regain some dignity after the fall and Yuki’s teasing.

“I wasn’t making fun of it,” Yukimura replies, his voice gentle and contrite. “He’s kinda cute. L-like you.” His cheeks turn bright red at the admission, and he looks away unable to meet your gaze.

You feel a little stunned yourself, and your own face feels as hot as a kitchen fire. “Thanks.” The word comes out almost a squeak. You clear your throat. “I’m glad you like him,” you add in a more normal voice. 

Yukimura finally turns back to you, his cheeks still plum-red. “So. Don’t get mad, but, why would you get your forest spirit inked into your skin?” He looks genuinely curious and a little nervous.

“I -” you can’t very well explain how much the film meant to you as a child, or how many times you watched it to cheer up after a rough day. How to explain the comfort of enjoying the same sad-sweetness of the anime without explaining animation and movies and so many things Yuki has no idea about? 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He leans back from you, trying to hide the hurt look in his eyes by changing the subject. “Are you gonna watch where you’re going the rest of the way up, or am I gonna have to carry you?”

You nearly react to the taunt before you realize where it came from. “Yuki. I do want to tell you. It’s just hard to explain.” It takes another moment to consider, and then you begin. “So, Totoro - he was there for me when I was sad. He helped me feel better when my grandmother died, and when my best friend moved away. And when I was all alone at college - um, school for seamstresses I mean.”

“So, your forest spirit talked to you?” His eyes are wide now, but you don’t detect any disbelief. Only surprise.

“More like . . . I guess you could say I watched him? Yeah. And that made me feel better. Just seeing him do what he does.” You shrug, not sure what else to say. 

Yukimura nods as if this makes more sense to him, though he still looks faintly wide eyed. His calloused palm rests on your leg just below the tattoo, a pleasant warmth. His gaze drops back to it, eyes narrowing as he studies the image. “I didn’t expect you to have irezumi but I like it.” 

You feel yourself smile, a wide bright grin that makes your cheeks hurt. Sure, Yuki can be a brat, you think, but when he’s sweet, it just makes you want to kiss him. 

“What are you making that dumb face for?” Heat colors his cheeks and he can’t meet your gaze as he looks up. 

“I dunno. What are you making a dumb face for?” 

Yuki stands. “I’m not!” He holds out a hand to help you up.

You take the hand and stand, dusting yourself off. “Are too. Or wait, maybe that’s just your face?” You giggle when he scowls at you. 

He leans forward, and you think he’s probably wracking his brain for a good insult. Before he can come up with one, you plant a tiny kiss right on his lips. Yukimura’s mouth opens in a surprised, pleased sigh and for just a heartbeat, his eyes flutter shut. 

“It’s a good thing I really love your dumb face.” You grin and squeeze his hand.

“Yeah. Same.” He returns your smile, tenderness in his gaze. Then he lets go of your hand and launches himself up the trail. “But you still have stubby legs! Think you can catch up!” 

Kanetsugu

“What is this?” Kanetsugu’s finger lands on the back of your hand, gently but firmly pinning you in place. 

“What’s what?” You glance up at him in mild surprise. He was reading, but now he’s just over your shoulder, leaned down so that his chin is beside your cheek.

“The mark.” 

You glance down and realize he must mean your tattoo. Since they aren’t all that common, you try to keep it covered. Fewer questions that way. “Erm, nothing?” Your hopeful tone does not dissuade his keen gaze.

Kanetsugu nudges up the edge of your cuff with the tip of his finger until the heron in flight is exposed. The colors look soft in the lantern light, the delicate lines a bare delineation between ink and skin. “That is not nothing.”

You wince at the slight frown he gives you and try to pull your sleeve back down. “It isn’t any of your business.” You try for the villainess voice, but sound squeaky even to your own ears. 

He doesn’t move his hand, even after a moment of your struggling. 

“Fine.” You sigh. “It’s a tattoo.”

Kanetsugu leans closer. His hair brushes your neck, and the smell of him floods your senses. 

You can feel his gaze on your arm, and heat travels from there up through your heart and floods your cheeks. Your heart is pounding and you struggle to keep your expression serene. It is absolutely unfair that he is so attractive, you think. 

His eyes turn toward you, and he waits for more with an expression somewhere between impatience and mild curiosity. 

It takes you a moment to gather yourself under that relentless stare. “Erm. I mean, ah, it’s a heron?”

“I am waiting to hear why you’ve branded yourself like a criminal.” 

Your temper flares at that, and you give him a frown. “I seriously doubt any criminal has flash that looks this nice. Seriously.” You smooth a finger over the design, remembering the day you got it. “This represents blessings for me. A promise that things will always get better. And I - I think it looks really elegant.” 

“I did not say it wasn’t.” His voice drops, a glimpse of fang at the corner of his lip as it compresses. “It is . . . lovely.” Kanetusugu’s thumb brushes over the inked skin, though his eyes are still fixed on yours.

“Thanks for the compliment,” you murmur, suddenly feeling as if it’s hard to draw breath. He is still so close, and it’s doing things to your heart that are hard to ignore. 

“Beauty should be appreciated.” 

You hope he can’t feel your racing pulse under his hand.”I-if you’re done appreciating?” You wiggle your arm, hoping he’ll let go, and hoping he won’t. Get it together, you tell yourself sternly, and pull with a little more force. 

Too much, perhaps, as Kanetsugu, is tugged toward you. Only by a hair’s breadth, but then, that’s almost all that separates you. His lips brush your jaw, an accidental kiss. He lets go of you and steps back with a strangled breath. For a moment, his eyes are wide and there’s a slight flush to his cheek.

“K-kanetsugu?” You feel warmth slip through you from the spot his lips touched. 

He turns away and clears his throat. “Thank you for the explanation.” His voice is calm and by the time he’s seated again, there’s no trace of discomfiture in his expression.

You, on the other hand, are ruffled. Very ruffled. “I think I’m going to step, mmm, outside. For a minute.” You stand and try to shake off the feelings tangled around your heart. 

“Don’t go far,” he calls, not glancing up from the paperwork on his desk.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen sasuke #ikesen yukimura #ikesen kanetsugu #sasuke sarutobi #yukimura sanada #kanetsugu naoe #fanfiction #otome #fanfic #otome guys #fluff

[triple-asstro]

Hi, I was wondering if I could make a request since I saw that they were open?

Basically it’s the 2012 turtles prompt and how they have a spa date with the reader and how they react towards it? Basically the reader makes it a surprise in which it’s all therapeutic and relaxing for their lover after a long stressful day. There’s face masks or mud masks, nail polish, candles, face rollers, snacks, and a robe of their signature color.

a/n: hello, i am sorry that i'm not as active as i was it's not that i don't hate writing little scenarios like this but more life stuff and just a general need for a break! i'll still answer reqs but expect a slow response if anything love you all <33

Leo 

I feel like while he’d be overly ecstatic about it 

Especially since we all know he does meditation religiously

Plus he’s excited to spend time with you 

He’s nearly silent every time you either paint his nails or place a new face mask on

“Is that patchouli?”

“Shush…Relax. Let your worries wash over like…I don’t know a river.”

He appreciates the amount of effort that was put in, always observing what new trinket you’ve carried in 

When you entered in with a basket full of face masks, mud masks, candles, and one stuffy blue ball of fur, you couldn’t tell whether he was scared or ecstatic 

He’s overly silent during the entire thing, not wanting to ruin the mask

And when you present the robe, he’s over the moon 

He keeps thanking you over and over, almost getting down to his knees before you stop him

You gossip about drama you’ve overheard, and he gossips about his brothers

Raph:

ok let's be honest his form of relaxing is not this

But because it's you, he's willing to try

He’s trying his best to keep his irritance at the lowest level he can 

His eyes grow in terror every time you leave and bring back another bag

Thankfully, he's more open to the prospect of more when he gets his robe

It feels like heaven honestly like legitimately like silk combined with wool

he quiets down, watching with an occasional smile

Tries eating the cucumber eye patches 

“Can you paint my nails black” 

Because he has CRBF (chronic resting bitch face), at first you think he hates it 

But he tells you he doesn’t and thanks you afterwards 

(potentially wears animal face masks) 

Donnie:

Ok we know how much anxiety is trapped in that skinny legend 

True, this whole thing was so that for once, he could feel relaxed

But this is Donnie, so it’s going to take a long time

First, you put on the specially made purple robe (he loves it btw)

Probably info dumps about his preferred textures while you put on mud masks

He’ll lay down and you think you got him relaxed 

But no, he’ll jolt back up and rant about whatever new invention idea came to mind

 Even when he’s exhausted, he seems to never stop thinking 

Appreciates the face rollers and nail polish because they make him feel more ‘human’

You talk about your day while you two snack (he probably takes notes of any specific detail you mention for later) 

Mikey: 

2000s sleepover was the vibe for that session

He’d been exhausted for that entire day, so this made him feel at home

While you guys were relaxing with your face masks on, he suggested watching some movies

Lineup was: Legally Blonde, Wild Child, and Adventure Time 

You both end up watching for so long, the masks stain your faces

Gathering snacks in the kitchen and simultaneously watching him attempt to cook 

He smiles like a baby deer through the entire thing

Gives surprisingly good advice on whatever you’re ranting about during nails 

You give him nice hearts on his nails 

Hugs you until you pass out as thanks

#tmnt 2012 #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2012 x reader #tmnt 2012 headcanons #tmnt #tmnt leo #tmnt raph #tmnt mikey #tmnt donnie #request

[noacfapologyst]

telltale heart — matty healy. part 2

´part 1´

summary: you and matty have a pending meeting at some awards where you promised to go as a couple. but something goes wrong.

wc: 2,5k

a/n: hey! i'm so sorry for the lateness. a lot has just happened these days but here is the second part. thanks for the love, x.

The weeks between the awards and the proposal to take Matty as your date have been from the moment he left the studio, the only thing you've ever seen going on in your mind.

You haven't been able to sit down and compose peacefully, or be able to just have a conversation without mentioning him without you slipping through your cheeks. Or that he appears in stains on your writing, the references may be exhaustive at some point, but your brain is about to explode just to think that he'll be there for you, and just for you. You wish his hand would occasionally slip into the waist of the dress you will wear and you would use that touch to keep it forever in your memory.

Even in your best dreams you wouldn't have had the courage to ask him to accompany you to prizes like your date, you can actually stand near him without trembling about it by mere chance.

Two weeks before, you go back to the conversation that tortured you several days ago with your team.

"Matty Healy, are you really sure?" Your manager inquires again, you cross your legs again. It's a sequence you've been living since Friday. "It dissolves your image too much in front of his. I don't know if it fits."

"Really, I don't care." You shrug your shoulders with heaviness. Your image is ruined anyway, but you're not going to let them take this off your hands. "Whether i go with someone or not, there is a stir. I was cheated, remember." You point again and you look at your fingernails, you need to finish defining everything now. "I don't care if it ruins my reputation. Matty is my friend, end of discussion, Helen."

Maybe it's the tone of voice or maybe you've just fed everyone up with it but Helen, your manager for years, sighs and nods with discontent. A winning smile sits on your face. You understand the worry in that office really, but you have one more card to play. You don't really care what his image is from doors to the outside because with everyone around him he's never been more than a gentleman and that's the only thing you really stick with when you have to talk about him.

"Plus, we give the media what they want. The antithesis of Sam." Helen decides it's time to let the argument go and even though her face is a weak grin they decide to move on to the other agenda items.

"Have you decided the dress, at least?" Your innocent smile betrays you and you're nowhere near getting a blow to your head.

You run into a bubble of teenage foolishness, she should understand that. But you won't discuss that either because deep down you've let him look distracted.

"I'll see the dress later, I'll let you know which one I choose." You inform her at the end by taking a sip in the cup of coffee. Helen doesn't make any sound anymore, and you know you've officially won.

--

Stylists really only want to kill you now or throw some fabric over your head. But they are right in their anger, you shouldn't have waited until the last week to choose the dress or gather too many designers in one place without having a very clear idea of fabrics, cuts and necklines. All you know is it has to be red, it can't be any other color under any forecast.

But it's not that you didn't want to choose it, you just couldn't find the right one. Which is kind of a lie.

No one can deny that there is an attraction in you posturally just by seeing you from afar, there is some light in you that stands out without you trying. You know that you're actually beautiful and that you're lucky enough to fit in dresses and that anything would be fine to show off on you. Your face has small freckles and you have good proportions between your nose, your eyes moderately green and almond, and your round lips. Your hips and abdomen are fine although you've never paid too much attention to them, or at least lately. But you know that your figure is imposing and immutable when the line is drawn between your low back and your high back and everything stands out there.

But this is different, it's a dress for and by Matty. It has to be perfect, not close to it. It may be one of the few opportunities you have in your life to receive his look on your body and make you tremble even just by looking at your cheeks. And that's also why the red dress has to be camouflaged on your cheeks.

In the end you find it and you couldn't be happier with the result. Red satin, straps around the back and neckline. When you test it automatically your body functions like a teenager and you start spinning around it without even finishing tying your high heels properly. But as you see yourself spinning in the mirror a smile sits on your face from ear to ear.

"It honestly feels like it was designed for you." After everyone in the room approves it by nodding as they take the measurements for the final adjustments, your image advisor shows up at the door and his confirmation lets you see that you're going to be relevant at the awards and with several glances on it overshadowing several more artists. "You look like the fucking winner."

And that confirms that you've finally found it. And it's perfect.

---

"Hey." Matty's face appears on your computer screen when he calls you on FaceTime. They haven't seen each other in person since the night at the studio, but their contact has been maintained anyway. "How do you feel about the awards?"

"Why the question?" You better place the device on the table and rest the guitar on your legs. You take the opportunity to spend some time watching how the hair on his front move each time he accommodates the camera.

"I wanted to make sure you remembered that we will be the best couple at the awards." Your heart stops for a second. "Believe me when I tell you that Sam is going to vomit with resentment when he sees us." The archness in his voice, the change of tone, the punctuation of the latter. The silly smile and the wink he makes. Too much for three o'clock in the afternoon.

That's when you realize something else. Ever since Matty became your supposed date, you haven't spent a second thinking about your breakup or your ex or who she's going to take. Just now you're rethinking it.

"You still there?" Matty claps his palms and looks at you from the screen with a frown. He doesn't mean it in a blunt way, but he knows how your brain works and he knows you've frozen to yourself.

"Yes, I don't know, I had forgotten he was going to be there." In fact it's a confession would be because it's realistic. You've been in your pink bubble about Matty that you forgot your ex would be there. "I don't wanna see him. I would like he stop exists sometimes." You laugh silly and he gives it back to you with a supportive look.

"It won't bother you, darling. I'll protect you." You feel like you're gonna throw up rainbows for the next five minutes and you don't know exactly what the trigger is. But luckily you can hear George's voice in the background and you know Matty's going to say goodbye. "See you on Friday. I'll get a red bow for the suit."

"That would be fantastic." You wink at him revealing the color of your dress and he smiles waving his hand around the camera as if he were a small child. "Bye bye, Matty."

When you cut off the call you have your head burning up from the amount of information you're processing right now, and then you go back to the first point you noticed today, the initial cause you owe to being able to go with Matty to the awards has stopped crossing your mind the moment this whole plan happened. It's also when you realize how self-destructive it is to have portal notifications on your computer just to keep abreast of public opinion about you.

You shouldn't let it get to you so much, but it actually does. Sam and her, the girl the rumors of your infidelity fed on and then confirmed, holding hands in front of the last bar you and he went to as a couple, two days before the breakup. His hands on his waist, he looks happier than he ever was with you. Smile more, he has a genuine expression in it. She's cute and it hurts you because you thought you were her ideal type and she, ironically, is completely different from you.

Your breath is cut short and you force yourself not to blink so fast and control the splash in your eyes. Yeah, maybe it's been a few months, but you're back in front of that studio and you're back in front of the words that stuck like a dagger in you when he said he didn't really love you and you just bored him. That feeling makes you get carried away and after weeks of holding back you get carried away and you just cry liberating yourself. At some point you let go of a drowned cry when you think about how you imagined a life full of it or at least imagined it would last more than a few months.

In the epitome of your catharsis you stretch between the guitar and the notebook and reveal that not letting yourself feel in its totality is what has not allowed you to put words in a line. And that is now broken from the moment your fingers prick the guitar in a melancholy and sad way, your thoughts fly and stay on the page when you denote the betrayal in your story, the lie and the reality of the facts. As your facet of strength and pretending smile and well-being collapse and leave you reduced to your tear-filled role, your knees on your head and the floor next to the gray armchair.

Maybe one of the best songs of your career. How you died waiting for a sign that never came even if they had sworn you everlasting love. Like you would actually have given up everything to keep it.

Suddenly you calm down just as quickly as you have acquired the previous state, when you manage to breathe properly thinking that Matty said he would be there and accompany you in front of Sam. That he has used the word protect gushes warmth within you, and you know that you can rejoice in the feeling of affection that he inevitably gives you. Therein lies the essence and effect Matty has on you and how important his friendship is to every aspect of your life. He's been there in every stage of your life and he's never stopped accompanying you even when he wasn't at his best.

Then you relax thinking about how lucky you are to be able to take him to those awards regardless of the terms agreed between the two and what the media put on. At the end of the day you'll be going to the awards that you and him have been talked about for thousands of nights being the best choice of both because understanding was never faked and that chemistry is always instantaneous.

When you realize you're tapping the guitar without a predetermined note, it's glimpsed between scratches of melancholy and a pink bubble. But now you're back to your usual thoughts and now you can't stop thinking about Matty dressed in a suit (and looking awesome, by the way) with him basically matching you in his tie.

--

Since you open your eyes on Friday, the day becomes chaos. Dress test, hair test and make-up test. The walk in heels, the review of the speech. Thinking about what to say about the breakup, that your figure remains dazzling no matter if the person able to disarm you is the one standing next to you. Both for your ex-partner and your date. Then they'll come and tell you about your nomination and how some song will be better than yours. The vicious circle of being an artist.

You wish it was a quick day, but it becomes extremely heavy. You hardly have time to stop for a drink of water and when you realize you are already changed for the event.

You look in the mirror with your stylist and then he starts to take shots while he changes between different angles to have the best pictures. Your hair is semi collected in a braid from behind and only a few waves break off on the wind but it gives the feeling that you have a princess collection and is not in danger of collapse.

Your dress gets all the attention, you look taken off the cover of a magazine. The red satin falls on you adjusting your curves and marking your figure in a rather attractive way to see, the cut on the leg does not take out the dainty of the dress. Your neckline falls on a beak held by a very thin thick straps that connect the dress with the neckline at the back, leaving your back open only with a few straps crossing to your low back.

You're perfect but you can't help but want to bite your nails because you feel there's something still missing even though you're being manic checking your makeup all the time. And if it wasn't because you don't have a second for your stylist to talk to you about important things, you'd have tried to touch up your makeup many more times.

When you get in the limo, you breathe until you calm down, and then you have a millisecond to talk to Matty.

see you, x

hey

we're coming for you soon

You turn off the phone and leave it on the seat when you feel your manager's gaze pointing at you.

"Where's Matty?" You ask after a while starting to listen to your senses that tells you something is wrong. They should have passed Matty's house a few miles ago, and your heart speeds up when you know you are entering the freeway.

Your phone vibrates and lets you see the Brit's messages making you form a thick grimace between your lips. Your brow automatically frowns and you feel your makeup heavy as you read each word carefully and feel like someone is playing a heavy joke on you.

only a thing

if you promise someone a date you have to keep it or at least warn that it's a fucking joke

Your vision becomes blurry for a few moments and you feel your world just stop in front of a polarized window and the body of the seat. You don't want to believe that what your head is thinking is actually what's going on, you can't just go overboard like that. The chances were very slim.

And then, come the words that confirm how you dug your own grave without it being your fault. You feel like someone's slapping you right where it hurts the most.

"Oh yes, about that. Matty isn't a good look for you, so we just got you someone else. You'll thank me later."

actually i think it sucks but will be rewarded in the next part? anyway let me know what you think <333

#matty healy #matty the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x you #matty healy x oc #matty healy x reader #matty fic #matty healy blurb #telltale heart au

[will-pilled]

Montague

Possibly triggering stuff? Self harm, CA, SA.

Montague personality (summary, due to limited information):

Montague is controlling, as is evident. He comes off as very calm and collected, and seems like a rather calculating and "pulling the strings" sort of man. Can be very aggressive. Headcanons:

He/him cis man - Unlabled but prefers masculine leaning/androgynous individuals. (British cig) It's more aesthetics he's attracted to.

He is not a huge animal person, but Oscar was okay when he was around I guess..

Fashionista and artist, designs his outfits.

Fave colors are blue, white, black, blue-gray, and silver.

Knows a lot about rocks and crystals, keeps it to himself though because he doesn't want to look dorky.

He is very French, and swears in French often as well as muttering to himself and breaking into French speaking when flustered or overwhelmed.

Loves sweet and salty deserts as well as very savory food.

Really likes knives. They're neat.

He isn't a good man. He isn't even an anti hero. But he is very easy to feel bad for.

Not a fan of children, not at all.

Kind of a sarcastic ass hole. Not kind of, a huge one. Dry humor and sarcasm. *Blank stare* "Are you stupid?"

Skin care and hygiene freak, takes pride in how he looks.

The Society was the closest he had to friends, so when they all ditched each other he became bitter as FUCK.

He does want a romantic relationship BUT he also terrified of being close to someone. He doesn't want to risk someone being in control of him or being rejected or left. he has a VERY intense "leave people before they can leave me" mentality, but isn't really aware of it.

Borderline Personality Disorder - Is extremely convinced there is nothing wrong with him which leads him to be very "anti recovery," and makes him indulge a lot in unhealthy habits and actions. Has some narcissistic traits but not enough to have Narcissistic Personality Disorder.

He *appears* calm and collected, but the moment he is sure he is alone he may fall into a hole-in-wall-punching fit of rage. Him breaking things is not uncommon. He takes his anger out on objects the most. He wants to fill the hole in his heart with objects and power. He chases the temporary highs of stealing, the chase, being in control of someone, and even perhaps drugs if he is bored enough. He only smokes in front of others, as he avoids doing most others in front of people due to more noticeable effects. He feels rather empty.

Intense need for control over himself and others, and in turn hates losing his shit. He HATES when things don't go his way for this reason as well, and his stealing also goes into this as he wants to control items and where they are.

A bit of a stalker, but not too bad. Stalking socials is his biggest thing.

(Potentially triggering? Self harm.) He did the eye scar to himself. No cool backstory or funny accidents. He did it to himself to look the way HE wanted to look. To control how he looks and what happens to his body. He never talks about how he got it, but loves it. Likely has other scars as well in intricate patterns and pictures. Doesn't really do it anymore because he honestly got bored of it. Not because he got better in any sense of the phrase.

(!CA, SA!)

Montague grew up with a very emotionally abusive and controlling father (Montague is sadly repeating the cycle it seems). He wasn't hit much by his dad, but was often picked on by peers for his queerness and being "girly." which caused his aggressiveness, though since he can do "whatever he wants" he is more open about it now. Not really "price flags everywhere" kind of open (though ngl I could see Meowscles being like that fucking bi and transgender ass cat) but more of a "clear closet"/"Is he... Y'know?" kinda open. He doesn't care for either parent much, they were both distant and let money raise him so he doesn't have much of an attachment to either of them. He has no feelings for them and when he came to the island he felt little to no grief at losing his old life other than his money and power.

He was assaulted when he was a young adult for a period of time by an employer, who had a great deal of influence and control. This is also where Montague's "I want influence and power" mindset comes from as well, so he will NEVER be at someone else's mercy again. He feels anger over it. He is no "perfect victim."

#montague hcs for twitter #I have a little community on there now :3 #montague #fortnite #montague fortnite #fortnite montague #tw sa #tw child abuse #cw queerphobia

[orangeocelotmartyn]

Treebark Week — Frost

An elemental fae like Martyn shifted with the seasons—he was best suited for the spring and summer (in that he looked the most human, then, provided you ignored the leaves in his hair), his skin shifting to a dull gray in the fall, and a bright, hypothermic blue in the winter. It’s how it always was, until he was dropped into the Life games—something about the code constricted him, keeping him that peachy tone, and with his hair covering his ears, one could assume he was wholly human, which is what the server did. 

He didn’t fault them for it—even Timmy, and Grian, and BigB, who should’ve known better, it’d been a few years since he last saw them, so of course they wouldn’t realize, and Martyn quite liked keeping a few cards close to his chest, so he didn’t correct anyone who claimed he was one of the few—if only—humans on the server. 

The whole “falling forever” if not in one of the games certainly shoved the thought of correcting anyone out of his mind, regardless, because he was so rarely called a human anyways, and he thought Ren got that he wasn’t human, what with the whole “you can’t turn me into a werewolf, it won’t work” thing.

But that didn’t change the surprise on his, or the other Hermits faces when he was invited on to visit and was visibly covered in a layer of frost. 

“Whoops,” Martyn said, having taken a tumble out of the rift he got in through. “Didn’t mean to fall for you lot.”

His words did not make the staring any less intense, and he shifted under their scrutiny. “…do I have something on my face? My shirt?” He glanced down, and then blinked. “Oh. It’s winter, is it?”

He brushed off any of their questions with a well timed joke, trying to make himself look good enough that perhaps they’d let him stay a little longer, integrate himself a bit as he scanned the crowd for his king Ren. He was, just like the last time he saw him, next to False (who was perfectly nice, really, if Martyn ignored the pulsating jealousy in his stomach when he saw them together), but at least he was looking in his direction, brow furrowed as he glanced between them.

The rift was rippling again, though, signaling that someone else was coming through and so Martyn stepped aside, letting the Hermits greet the next guest. He was happy for the new distraction, anyways, letting himself be swallowed by the crowd if only so he could peer at Ren without anyone scrutinizing his behavior. 

He didn’t get that chance, though, as a clawed hand reached forward to grab his wrist and tug him closer, out of the crowd, and he found himself blinking up at a much taller than he remembered Ren. 

“Wow, you’re tall. I hadn’t realized—the Life games really nerf us all, don’t they?”

Ren grinned down at him, still looking a bit awkward, but his comment definitely seemed to put a few pieces into their places. “Oh, er, yes, I’d forgotten that you hadn’t—you’re very blue, is that what you normally look like?” He still hadn’t let go of Martyn’s wrist, fingers pressed against Martyn’s pulse, which he was trying very hard to ignore that it was racing.

“Nah, not all the time. I’m just a very wintery boy right now, is all. Comes with the fae package.” He wriggled his fingers on his free hand, as if to demonstrate. “You lot caught me during the worst months, unfortunately. If I had known it was winter, I might’ve had second thoughts.” 

Of course, that wasn’t strictly accurate—Martyn would’ve shown up regardless, if it meant getting out of the void for a bit—a chance to stretch his legs, and, of course, Ren was here—right in front of him!—to talk to and joke around with.

Ren still hadn’t let go of his wrist. “I suppose,” he said, thoughtfully, “that we should’ve called it Blue Winter, instead, me Hand.” 

His words made Martyn wheeze out a surprised laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Milord,” he mock protested, “was red for your colors, and the blood you spilled to protect us!”

Ren grinned right back down at him, finally letting go. “But you, me Hand, are blue like the frost that protected us! We mustn’t forget your work in the pack. Er. Side note: how long will you be blue, exactly?”

“Whenever winter ends and the grass thaws, I’ll get my more spring-y colors back, maybe grow some flowers, you know how it is.”

Ren’s hand came up, then, to caress his cheek, and his eyes peered down at Martyn through his shades. The look was striking, and Martyn couldn’t help what came out of his mouth next— “‘course, there are faster ways to warm me up.” 

False, who was still stood right nearby, thanks, let out a groan, but Ren’s eyes narrowed, calculating. “Well, if that’s what it takes, I suppose I can prove myself very valuable to your cause.” His words were booming, carried well, and Martyn, although he couldn’t currently blush, definitely felt like he should be. 

“Oh, well, if you’re offering—“

Ren dropped his hand away from Martyn’s face, and nodded, more to himself than anything. “Let’s get you warmed up, shall we, Hand?”

——

“You know, this wasn’t what I expected,” Martyn said, words muffled a bit, thanks to the fur currently trying to make its way into his mouth.

Ren, who couldn’t speak, on account of currently being a giant wolf, just thumped his tail lazily in reply. 

False, who had no idea why she had come along, but was at least not currently being laid on, unlike Martyn, took her hand away from Ren’s head (eliciting a whine) to poke Martyn in the cheek. “Shush. I think I’m already starting to see the pink come back to your cheeks.”

#Treebark #inthelittlewood #rendog #fic #trafficshipping #treebarkweek2024

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

OC interaction game

Thanks @willtheweaver here and @illarian-rambling here!

Rules: describe an OC and pair how they would interact with the given OCs from the people who tagged you!

Will's OC Fen

Fen is a crow. But he does not act like one, having grown up among the foxes of the forest. All his life, he has had to keep his identity a secret. For obvious reasons, Fen does not let too much of himself be known. What he does show is an understanding nature ,and a knack for bringing out the best in others. Storyteller, a good fighter, tracker, and cook, he is skilled in many arts, though you’d never know that from the way he stays humble and modest. He values friendship, and will support those he trust.

Katie's OC Daedryn

Daedryn is a lady knight with one eye and red hair. She's the divine Chosen of Loqang, god of rivers and loyalty. Due to this, she is fiercely loyal to whatever person or organization she has promised herself to, to the point of following orders for orders sake. Outside of battle, where she is a force to be reckoned with, she's very sweet, a little awkward, and loves to talk about her god, who she sees as her best friend.

My OC Lexi

Lexi is a middle school girl (12-13 in the first book) who's popular, talkative and energetic. She has more acquaintances than she can keep up with (but don't tell her that!!! They're all her close friends who she must hang out with and support!!), and a close circle of companions she may hold on a little too tight to. Metaphorically, as her haphephobia prevents her from wanting physical contact. She has a mini backyard garden and indulges in nerdy pop culture, at first for her sister, then she found out she liked it. Lexi is very organized - she has a color-coded schedule she Will Follow No Matter What and her high anxiety will flare up if things become unexpected.

Edit: I forgot to mention she has teleportation powers because I got distracted trying to be concise

Lexi and Fen

Well, Lexi does not have experience with sentient crows. Not sure if Fen talks to humans or not. If Lexi were to discover his identity, she might find it difficult to keep it a secret, but would feel like she Had To regardless, out of loyalty and being true to her word. Fen's knack for bringing out the best in others would definitely highlight Lexi's compassion and love for those around her, as well as the aforementioned loyalty. His humility and modesty would be a fun contrast to Lexi's self-confidence, which means she would try to make him embrace his accomplishments more, and maybe Fen would open up to her more once he trusted her. Their shared value of friendship and supportive nature would make them good friends I think. Who doesn't love the classic young girl + sentient animal dynamic?

Lexi and Daedryn

As someone who also values loyalty and is respectful of superiors, Lexi would probably idolize Daedryn. Lexi also has trouble recognizing faults in those she values, so I believe they would understand each other. I would like to see Daedryn maybe take Lexi under her wing, making her a force to be reckoned with as well. Lexi is an enthusiastic learner. Lexi would be willing to listen about Daedryn's god, especially why he means so much to her, though Lexi would also be very excited to talk about her friends too! There may be some talking over each other, but I think they would have a cute dynamic.

Alright y'all let's pair people up with Lexi:

Tagging @gracehosborn @mk-writes-stuff @little-peril-stories @buffythevampirelover @elsie-writes @winterandwords @theeccentricraven @theelfauthor @space-writes @jezifster @theprissythumbelina @herrmannhalsteadproduction @i-can-even-burn-salad @oh-no-another-idea @eccaiia @dyrewrites + anyone else who'd like to do this fun tag!

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites + extra tag if you want to :)

#the secret portal #tsp #teaspoon #honor's outcasts #a feather in the forest #other people's ocs #my oc #lexi morgan #oc interaction #oc tag game #writers on tumblr #writing community #writers of tumblr #writing on tumblr #writeblr #writeblr community

[arthur-r]

progress on my painting from a while ago

#it’s still just very base layers but i hadn’t got a chance to do anything to it since that first day #(i’m borrowing my older sisters canvasses and she’s the one who has all the paints too these days which used to be mine #so she’s keeping my work in progress canvas with all her painting stuff and it only comes out of the whole family is ready to paint #which mostly just means us kids but only happens if my littlest sister is interested and today she was) #anyway im very excited to have a painting to put up on my wall of a bear playing cello #the end pin is gonna be stuck out real long too look at how far it is to where his lower foot is at #cause usually you don’t play the cello when you’re standing and if you do you often have a strap or something similar #but i don’t use a strap (mainly because i only play sitting down but like. if i stood i would use the end pin) #and so neither does he. one real self insert of an imaginary cellist bear he must be #also one thing i’m gonna struggle with is differentiating the cello from the bear in color. like yeah they’re different shades of brown but #i only have so much different colors of paint to mix together #but yknow what. things happen and that’s all they ever do and if it doesn’t look good then i’ll figure something else out #maybe it’ll have to be an orange cello. these kinds of things are unpredictable shdhdf #anyway i hope you think of me like i think of this painting (as a grizzly bear playing a cello or as a thing you like and are proud of) #but yeah hi im at the house of some cats right now. feeding them and such. but there’s this other unafilliated cat who belongs to their #roommate josh. and his cat is named bear so you’d think we’d get along but he’s scratched me in six different spots today #he always wants to eat the other cats food so i have to pick him up and carry him to another room and that makes him very upset with me #anyway the cats take a long time to eat and i can’t leave until they’re done so that i can let out bear when he no longer poses a threat #which means im just kind of chilling in a friends empty house (josh is gone for the moment) with nothing much to do except wait #and i’m sure hoping to walk home before it’s pitch dark out but that would probably mean giving up and letting bear out to steal their food #so good luck to me on that front. anyway im rambling a little i was just trying to post this picture shdhdhdf #so. i hope to work on it again soon in not very long. and i just really like painting things with a paintbrush it makes me feel less bad #when i mess up in whatever ways. because everyone always complains about traditional art so it’s more universal. i like it better though too #anyway i’ll be here for the next while just hoping to head home before 9:30. let me know if you need anything though #me. my post. mine. #delete later