#and i could feel my mind making more space for more concepts and ideas

[desire-mona]

siiiigh. todd autism headcanons because im projecting.

(using they/he/she pronouns for todd in this post. will explain but also if u dont agree i dont care, tw for alcoholism. time period is vague but autism hasnt existed as a legitimate medical diagnosis for all that long, so keep it in mind i guess.)

- cannot for the life of him stand welton's blankets. so itchy, just thin enough to not warm you up enough but still make you sweat, not long enough to cover your entire body. yes im making the blanket line in their poem about actual blankets, a boy needs to vent somewhere.

- beyond terrible temperature regulation, ALWAYS just a little too hot which is made worse by her sensory issues when it comes to wet fabric. constant slight agony and it never really goes away. theyre about 5 minutes away from crying about how uncomfortable they are at all times.

- had god awful handwriting until high school, like his teachers could BARELY read his handwriting it was Bad. OOOOOH OH MY GOD THERES A TRAIN GOING BY I CAN HEAR IT HONKING this is a really ironic thing to be pointing out rn but its sooooo worth mentioning. its still honking this is fun. 🚂. anyway. her parents made her spend an entire summer fixing her handwriting bc that was like the One thing her teachers criticised. its Fine now but their motor function simply doesn't deliver in the handwriting department.

- had a VERY INTENSE special interest in aquatic life + marine biology growing up, like read every book about any ocean animal in any library intense. his parents eventually forced him to abandon it because its "not a good career focus" but he still perks up when anyone mentions fish. once talked neils ear off about the biodiversity of coral reefs for roughly 2 hours, neil took her to an aquarium for their first date. rip todd anderson you wouldve loved spongebob squarepants.

- looooves pets, namely cats, but they have Too Sweaty hands all the time so any animal fur sticks onto their hands and just feels. so awful.

- had a brief period in his 20s where he was definitely an alcoholic, started as a social drinker but got too addicted to the feeling of not having to adhere to social conventions quite as hard, especially around other drunk ppl. eventually went sober after they realised they just Cant Stand the feeling of a hangover anymore. autistic ppl r more likely to develop a dependency on alcohol if we do start drinking. just btw.

- gets a Pretty Expansive vocabulary after actually starting to pursue literature. sometimes his family lightly teases him about using big words but it confuses the hell out of him. its just a word she thought would apply best!!

- soooooo obsessed with what other ppls idea of them is, both in an anxious way and out of genuine curiosity. would never ask ppl what they think of her bc she thinks thats 1) very broad 2) seems compliment fish-y and 3) just gonna lead to "i think ur great/ nice/ whatever filler compliment." but the dream is to sit someone (neil) down and just ask him every single question possible about how he perceives him.

- asks a billion clarifying questions about anything someone asks him to do, gets anxious about how many questions he's asking, tries to just figure it out, freaks out about the possibility of getting it wrong, ends up doing the thing perfectly. weekly occurrence.

- never fully grasped the appeal of religion (most definitely grew up catholic or christian or Something) just bc she could NOT let the lack of proof go. ALSO not an atheist bc the vastness of space scares them out of it. religious beliefs r a weird topic for them.

- suppresses a good chunk of his stims in public bc One total time someone looked at him weird while he was chewing on a sweatshirt string and he was like i gotta stop NOW. eventually develops tics and has to mask THOSE in public too. dear god someone let this girl unmask. also i started ticcing while writing that bc my body does this great thing where i only tic when im reminded of the concept of ticcing. its great and totally doesnt make me think im faking them (faking for who? dunno bc it usually happens when im alone)

- DOES in fact stim around neil bc NEIL STIMS TOO!!!!!!!! joyous day when they found THAT out! gets vocal stims of random lines from whatever play neil is practicing for. YEAA ART THOU THEEEEREE was a vocal stim for a solid week and a half which made neil VERY excited (autistic neil. how i love u autistic anderperry)

- velcro is The most evil vile disgusting material to ever grace this mortal realm. he hates it more than anything ever and i mean that fully. the feeling of BOTH sides, the noise, how easily it comes apart, she hates it all.

this is the gender part

never really viewed gender and gender roles as anything to adhere to beyond the fear of punishment if they dont. finds any social convention relating to gender to be Really dumb and meaningless, bc gender isn't (scientifically) real in any capacity, so why treat it like that? for the longest time just shrugged and said "eh, i guess im a boy" bc thats what she was used to being told, and didn't feel particularly drawn to agree OR disagree. eventually realised on a late night that Wait. i dont Actually care what i am. like yeah im a Male i guess but also im just me. my brain doesnt have a gender and i basically am my brain, right? and then never really thought about it again because that's genuinely how little he cares. adhering the most to canon with that mindset, she never really tells anyone (for obvious reasons on top of the overall apathy) and just lets the he/him happen to her but. in my dream world? agender they/he/she todd anderson. and this is MY blog so those are the pronouns im using from now on. i will forever love talking abt how autistic ppl very often view gender differently than allistic ppl, will forever love talking abt how autistic ppl are more likely to be trans. autism!!!

also yes that entire paragraph is just my view of gender, change the pronouns and the todd mentions and its just me. what of it.

#desire mona #YAYYYYYYYY TODD AUTISM POST #do yall want a seperate autistic anderperry hc post cuz i can do that #genderqueer todd i love you so much #dead poets society #todd anderson #anderperry #the todd spectrum #actually autistic #banger

[creekfiend]

I used to be so smart. I was so clever and I was so capable of engaging in discussions and spinning ideas out with people and considering concepts and comprehending hypotheticals I was so SMART I was so GOOD AT WORDS I could put words together for hours and I didn't run out of them. I didn't know more things but I could think... I could think. I had space inside for so many thoughts and concepts. I was so clever

#i used to write paragraphs and paragraphs about books and thoughts and ideas #and discuss so many things with so many people #and i could feel my mind making more space for more concepts and ideas #and now its so small #and cramped #and full of dust and i cant move inside it #and im tired and ive run out of words and space #and im incomprehensible.

[sometimes-stufful]

Hey guys. It's been um *checks watch* like 5 or 6 years since I've used this blog. How's everybody doing? Sorry for the unannounced hiatus all that time ago.

I don't know if this blog will become active again. However there is a good chance that it might! I'm starting to create a plot for the blog's characters (because I still love them dearly), so hopefully I can create that and get this show up and running again. I've also been updating everyone's refs. So even if I don't come back to posting here officially, I think I'm going to at least upload those. I also have some new characters in the works that I may post refs for if I don't go thru with returning/making this blog more plot-centric.

I really do want to return to sometimes-stufful. However I'm an adult now (I'm literally about to turn 25 in 10 days, holy shit), and the past few years have been rough as hell on my mental health. I've lost a lot, and am just starting to heal from everything that's gone down. And I work full time, and have a datemate now, so finding the chance to draw is difficult. But this blog helped me on my art journey before. And I'd love to use it as an excuse to draw more, which is the main thing that pulling me back into the pokemon ask community. Another thing that's been pulling me back is the strong af urge to create content for my characters. Because I still love them so very much. I think about them so often that I want to put them in Situations and share it all with you. Although first I wanna get better at drawing humans lol (its relevant I swear). But I could get back into the swing of drawing some 'mons if I really set myself out to.

Let's see how it all goes. I'll keep you all updated. For those of you who have stuck around waiting so long, thank you. I hope to join you in this community again soon.

In the meantime, here's where you can find me and my artwork:

Main blog Toyhouse Artfight

#daily pokemon #mun shoosh #Yeah I'm not dead I just Came Back Wrong #but I'm ok #things are getting better so hopefully that means I can return here #I moved like a year and a half back to the suburbs with my fam and am now trying to find a place to move to with my datemate #when I move with my datemate I'll have more free time I think #or at least I'll be a lot less stressed so I'll feel good enough to draw #which has been the main thing holding me back for a long time besides time restraints #although time is less of an issue. I was able to participate in artfight for instance with little issue #besides my own desire to draw (which can be affected by my mood and my job and hone life stress me out A LOT) #before I was able to be left alone for hours while visiting my dad's place so I had time and freedom to do as I pleased #but my dad isn't here anymore and I don't have a space to escape to like that anymore either #when I move I will tho. my datemate and I are both the sorts to want a long period of Me Time where we're left alone to enjoy some peace #but I think rn I could squeeze in some time to draw again #lets see how it goes #I really want to solidify the plot I've been rotating in my head tho #rn I only have some concepts ideas #and an idea for the newest sometimes-stufful post I'd make introducing the beginning of said plot #like I can see that post super clearly in my mind. but Im nit gonna make it til I have more stuff planned #so stay tuned. hopefully I'll be able to give you guys something #although I have a longterm fanfic/book series that Im working on (warrior cats related lol) #so finding the motive to manage multiple stories at once is difficult #but the way I'd tell this story is more visual vs the one I've been working on which is all written #so maybe I can motivate myself to do bith cause they're different #idk yet. lets see

[ectoplasmer]

hfhhffhbrfhfj

#temptation to write about warrior cats is strong but sleepy tired influenced by school might be stronger #some part of my brain that i haven’t used since middle school got activated earlier this week and i just. cannot stop thinking about my fan- #-clans >_< i’m putting actual effort into the world building this time!! #sort of #i just want to make it different from the actual series and not just a copy and paste of dotc #i have personalities in mind for the founders now and where they came from etc #i have a decent idea on how i want the clans to actually become a thing #only issue is. actually writing the story/timeline and making characters to fill in the gaps… #especially with how many cats are usually in a clan + who would come from the tribe + finding loners/kittypets/etc #i have to actually be creative and make stories/ideas on how that happened #i have a few ideas for characters already but #i’m a bit worried about actually putting them into action lol #i want to make the kittypets more knowledgeable on twoleg things because two of the founders- #-have clans based around ‘space’ more or less #and cats in the main series don’t usually know the names of planets or constellations or what a galaxy is #this could easily be fixed by me just changing the clans to be different but. i’m attached :( #and then i want them to know concepts like what music is what ‘monsters’ actually are etc #i want to make them more human and fleshed out since they live so close to them!! #i just. feel like that might be a bit out there in terms of warcat writing >_> #i etill get nervous about making my characters too perfect or mary sue like dgjdhsj early fandom experiences ruined me #*still #anyway. hi. #rainy.file #delete later

[eamour]

a manifestation routine.

! long post ahead !

in this post, i want to give you an idea of how a manifestation "routine" could look like. i'm aware that this is one of my longer posts but i wanted to give as many insights and as much reassurance as possible. it’s a guide especially for those, who need a bit guidance, who may have come off track a little and who want to discipline themselves a bit more.

morning and evening.

right before you wake up or fall asleep, lay down on your bed and close your eyes. try to calm your mind, loose any tension built up in your body and take deep breaths in and out. with your eyes closed, pay attention to the darkness you're seeing. everything around you doesn’t exist for now. the outer world is none of your concern. your responsibilities fade away and in this given moment, there is nothing that needs to be worked on, nothing that needs to be fixed, nothing that needs to be dealt with. right now, it’s only you in this darkness. you are safe. you are protected.

now, think about it: what is it that you want? what is it that you wish to experience? this isn’t about what you feel like you should want or what you need to experience but rather what YOU deeply want. what would having / being it feel like? what would it look like? what if you had / were exactly what you wanted?

as you become more and more decisive and definitive about who you want to be and what you want to have, you begin to enter the state of the wish fulfilled. you take a step towards the end. you start to bask yourself in the feeling of being the version of yourself who has or is what you desire to have or be. for this, you can visualise yourself or use affirmations that go hand in hand with your desired outcome.

at the same time, let go of your old conception of self. leave your old mindset. right now, you aren’t who you were before you entered this state of calmness. shift your states. go from your former one to your desired one. give life to your new state and death to your old state. abandon the old story. you don’t need it now. you no longer need to retell it. you don’t need to carry it with you anymore.

don’t focus on details. don’t worry about your scenes of visualisation or wording of affirmations. don’t try to make it perfect. don’t question it. and don’t reason your way into it. try to make it natural. try to make it enjoyable. in imagination, you cannot do anything wrong. feel free to imagine any way you would like to. doing any technique without feeling it to be true and without accepting it won’t do anything. it cannot change you. not the technique itself but the feeling will alter self. your visualisations and affirmations shall only support you by guiding you to your desired state. don’t perform anything in vain. do it with purpose. do it with conviction. do it with acceptance. mere repetitions lead to mere results. if you repeat, then do it with feeling. for feeling is the secret.

this way, you become conscious of your new self. and since consciousness is the one and only reality, things can only appear through consciousness. becoming conscious of having your desire means to feel your desire to be yours. by making consciousness your aim, you are aiming to become conscious of BEING and HAVING your desire.

rest of the day.

after you took time to meditate in the morning, you continue to live with your wish fulfilled during the day. whenever you think of your desire, whenever you start to desire something, you claim it to be yours. you declare that it’s part of your reality now. you simply accept it to be true instead of letting your mind wander, overthink or worry. you don’t leave any space for feelings of desire and refrain from living in desire as well. you don’t have to go into a deep meditative state either. you think of it, recognise your desire, imagine it to be yours, feel it to be yours and then go on with your day. this way, you only aim for your inner fulfillment and get rid of any desire that comes up.

you don’t need to force yourself to think of your desire for a very long time, nor do you need to immediately start affirming or visualising a scene that implies you having your desire. what you do is that you take some time, not a lot, to acknowledge your desire and to shift your state from desiring to owning. you do this for as long as you like, until you have accepted your desire to be yours. you will know when you have shifted your state as you won’t feel feelings of desire anymore. you won’t want it anymore because you know there is nothing left to desire that isn’t already yours.

there's no need to constantly bring you back and to remind yourself of your manifestation. the moment you accept it, you can let it go. it’s done now. it belongs to you. assuming your desire to be yours once you think of it is totally enough. you don’t need to obsess over it either.

the more you do this, the easier it will be for you to remain in your desired state. you will get used to the state because you get used to the feeling. it will start to feel familiar to you. it won’t be as difficult as before. it won’t scare you as it did in the beginning.

once in the state, it will become easier to handle the outer world. your thoughts come from your state aka your feeling and if you happen to be in the state you wanted to occupy, you will respond better to 3D circumstances (if there are any). you'll stop viewing your physical world the way you used to and you'll also stop feeling like it’s a lot of work to be in the state of the wish fulfilled. you'll stop viewing the act of shifting your state as effortless. as normal. as natural. you can happily live in the 3D while still experiencing your manifestation from within, giving your inner self what you want. from now on, you will want to identify with your real self more frequently and anything outside of you will lose importance. you won’t care about how the world may look like, you won’t stress about your physical existence. anything that does not serve you will be of little account.

everyday.

the purpose of this guide is to motivate you to make fulfillment your one and only goal. make it a lovely habit to daily manifest your desires. do it each day.

do not waste time contemplating whether your desires are easy to manifest, quick to manifest, possible to manifest or logical to manifest. stop categorising your manifestations into "big" and "small". do not concern yourself with these matters.

the moment you accept your assumption to be true, it has no option but to materialise. your 3D can never stop reflecting your 4D. you can never run away from your feelings, so why not change them? why not choose lovely feelings for yourself? why not claim great things about yourself? why not immediately grant yourself every wish you have? stop wasting time, conditioning your desires and doubting your abilities as creator of your reality.

within imagination, all things exist and all things are possible. you can be or have anything you'd like in your imagination. it doesn’t have to be hard to get. you don’t need to earn your way to happiness. and you don’t need to work hard for it either. so why would you deny yourself that experience? why would you actively choose not to fulfill yourself? why would you not manifest your desires?

make your imagination a place you love spending time in. make yourself feel feelings of wealth, love, success, health and more. make it so amazing, so addicting that you cannot be bothered or moved by the limitations of the outside world. quoting aphrodite apprentice: "see your desires as invitations to experience something new within yourself and fulfill yourself. and then walk in that fulfillment. just live your entire life in fulfillment."

with love, ella.

#law of assumption #loablr #loa tumblr #loa #neville goddard #edward art #loassumption #manifestation #manifesting #manifest #manifesting it #manifest it #how to manifest #self concept #eiypo #specific person #sp #the law of assumption #spiritual #spirituality #shiftblr #reality shifting #shifting realities #shifting #i am state #void stare #master manifestor #states #affirm and persist #affirmations

[officialspec]

can you pleeeeease post your dm sexuality/gender hcs on here.... 🥺 i don't have a twitter but i wanna know. it's like a pandora's box to me now i'm like scratching at the door. let me in

heres the link 2 the thread (mild spoilers btw) ill post a transcript under the cut for ppl who dont have twitter

first off i think laios relationship to sex is super removed for like 50 reasons without even getting into his actual sexuality

he grew up in a place with very repressed ideas about sex and has a lot of fear about asserting his presence in situations

his special interest takes precedent over any social interactions he has and the level of closeness he feels towards people

he has a hard time figuring out his feelings towards other people both bc hes autistic and bc he has freaky deviantart fetishes that make sex in his mind a very abstract concept <- this one is me projecting mostly

that aside, i feel like gender-wise hes attracted to ppl so infrequently it may as well be entirely case-by-case

the idea of him being gay appeals to me from the 'raised with traditional values he Does Not fit into/hasnt begun to question it yet' perspective, i lauve characters who put a lot of stock into performing a role thats expected of them and fail miserably for unknown (gay) reasons

from his perspective tho i dont think he would ever really label himself anything. hes going to pride parades in the shirt+shorts Ally Fit to clap for his friends

hes also 'cis by indifference' imo... i love tmasc laios hcs it just doesnt mesh w his personal history to me. i do think hes got some kind of therian gender thing going on (not trans or nb but a secret third thing) but i cant see him changing anything abt his appearance/pronouns to accommodate that post-canon. hes just doin his thang

falin is in a similar boat for gender. i LOOVE tfem falin but the village repression thing has been bugging at me so i dont think i subscribe to it anymore (canon purist sorry) BUT if u hold that hc i am clapping and cheering regardless

instead i was propagandised to a while back and i LOVEEE the idea that being fused w a male dragon and the residual traits she has after being revived have given her a type of gender euphoria she didnt realise she was missing. a little boygirl swagger if u will

sexuality-wise i also dont think she would care to label herself, shes a lesbian by virtue of only being interested in One woman and zero other people. without marcille i do think shes still exclusively attracted to women, and i like to imagine she might experiment around a bit during her travels post-canon (pre-relationship). hearing abt it might put marcille on the news though

marcille is very simple That is a transfem lesbian. she cant get pregnant, shes obsessed w being femme and all that combined w her half-tallman struggles to be seen as 'properly feminine' by elf standards reads very transfeminine to Me. also her bookboy crush REEKS of comphet its not subtle

i think a more comfortable marcy might have the space to experiment w being elf butch like her manga boys but thats mainly self indulgence for me. utena could have saved her

senshi is gay his whole thing is abt not being able to perform dwarven masculinity to a proper standard (soft hearted, not as strong or rugged as his peers) which is like gaycoding 101. also hes a bear. homosexuality be damned by boy can work a grill

adding onto this i rly think senshi got some type of euphoria from being an elf in the changeling chapters. he was feeling himself so much i think he was using it as an outlet to have fun being a little fem and fruity without needing to justify it. do u understand

i dont have any particular opinions abt him gender-wise beyond that. his bulge is an essential part of his character design but i also saw a transmasc senshi a couple days ago that made me nod my head thoughtfully so i could go either way

chilchuck is cis and bisexual this is just canon. not even just his old man crush on senshi altho i do think thats very funny but they put his ass on a cover themed like hes in a dating sim with all the men and women in the cast and then slapped it in front of a chapter called "bicorn". i simply cant pass up that kind of overt signaling. its so fucking funny what else is there to say truly

izu to ME is a transmasc aroace lesbian (this one has the least basis in canon i just know it to be true) shes a little genderfluid with it nd uses he/she i think. i like to imagine she consistently uses masculine personal pronouns to refer to herself either way tho (boku, ore)

i think izutsumis gender/sexuality is entirely secondary in priorities to her body dysphoria. she has a lot of learning and acceptance 2 do before that kind of self discovery is on the docket and in my mind eschewing gender on some level is part of that. get sillay

shuro is cishet but at least he feels bad about it. next

kabru is a transmasc bisexual this is also practically text. his whole thing of being treated like a doll by milsiril to put in pretty dresses, plus i think it would be pretty easy for him to stealth in the west since tallmen are seen as inherently more masculine than elves

(i also think changing genders is just more common for elves. theyre androgynous enough that it wouldnt be hard and like who in their right miiiiind would be the same gender for 500 years. dwarves too)

i think he started presenting as male socially in the west but didnt need to consider medical transition until he moved to a more mixed culture where other races might see him as a woman

i dont have to explain the bisexual part. have u seen him

namari is a butch bisexual this is just canon straight up. shes not transmasc but i think the default settings for dwarven women is like 4 years of T regardless. shes a hit at all the local cruising spots despite her renfaire nerdisms i know this

and just bc im thinking abt em kiki and kaka are identical and kiki is tfem :} theyre both attracted to women but kaka is a sub so i forgive him

THATS ALL 4 NOW theres a lot of characters so i cant have thoughts abt all of them at once but i hope this was good. im right about everything forever as per usual

#ask #headcanons #passes out. my Mind #dunmesh

[darqx]

Snakes on a post

Another particularly long answer dump since i, once again, have a backlog of things to potentially answer |D

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

Got jumpscared with my own old art for a hot minute there LAUGHS.

(For those wondering, the naga doodle from here was attached to the ask)

That is every other Royal that exists in the Nether and also at least some of the demons that challenged him for his Royal title lol.

Believe me, no one was or is more surprised then me XD;

So, the thing about where Rire's ichor manifests is that it kinda exists and doesn't exist at the same time. Meaning that his upper back is where the manifestation point is anchored, BUT it can still manifest with a bit of space in between it and his back hence why it will manifest over his clothes and not through them.

So if you touch where the manifestation point is sans the ichor, than you are just straight up touching his back. With the ichor, he still gets sensory input from the tentacles to his back but it's a lot more soft and muted esp the further away it gets from him. As you've seen implied though, he would feel a very sharp pain if a great deal of damage was done to the ichor where it clusters at the manifestation point, since he'd DEF be feeling that straight in his back lol.

He is definitely a top and the only way he would bottom for anybody is if they somehow forced him to.

Ah i knew i'd answered this a long time ago [finally found it]! Holy crosses (those that have been blessed) can also burn him but they would need to be in contact with him the entire time. Being a Royal he also has more of a tolerance to these than normal demons.

Well, unless said person actually has the undeniable ability to make good on their words, Rire would just stand there rather genially with that little smile he sometimes has and let them finish.

And then he might use them as reverse suggestions for dealing with said person (why would you give him any ideas!!?)

both

In BTD canon it is quite possible that they actually haven't in person. But we are using creative license here haha.

Rire heals a lot faster than a human. Cain is not my character so I don't know how his stacks up.

I've grouped these asks cos they kind of have similar answers - 360° (jk sorry sorry to the second q that is just a very common spelling mistake and I couldn't resist XD; )

Now, even though we mashed all the characs together in BTD, they all actually come from different storylines and so their canons outside the "BTD canon" may differ. This tends to bleed in. With this in mind:

The rules of Rire's canon (eg the concept of Battle Royales and how to become a Royal) don't apply to Cain. Anyway, they don't live in the same place either.

Cain is canonically the oldest and most OP character in BTD lol so yes he is stronger than Rire - you might've noticed, but Rire is never in the same drawing as Cain voluntarily. I play with this along with the "natural weakness" aspect - which I've also referred to as scissors-paper-rock rules XD Basically; demons beat humans, angels beat demons (purely because demons have weakness against holiness).

It would (be insane) but I hope you are not looking at me to fulfil this :d

Not really

His coronation day is a public holiday in his sector so yes XD

Aww thank you very much for your interest! ≧(´▽｀)≦ It's really cool that some of you guys want to actually fund such a thing - I'd have thought you'd have enough of him killing you in BTD1 XD Unfortunately, I have no plans for a Rire game at the moment as I'm working on a webcomic which looks like it will take up all my free time (that being said, he will be in the webcomic at some point).

Nope! Although i can kinda see why you might think that lol.

Whatever that one is where he doesn't particularly care what someone else identifies as. It really makes no difference to him or how he will act.

There are viruses in the Nether that if contracted could potentially kill you, yes. Part of being a Royal is becoming a lot more robust than normal Demons though. As for if/when Rire dies, I dunno maybe either in a Battle Royale somewhere thousands of years down the line or by old age (which is rare for a Royal but not impossible if you play your cards right).

If you are asking if he has a heat/rut of some sort, he does not |D

#boyfriend to death #art #rire answer dump #answer dump #doodle #long post #decided to actually redesign what a naga rire would viably look like since the old design was bad XD

[marimbles]

happy holidays @0ellestrid0! I was your secret santa for @mlsecretsanta 💜

I don’t know much about solarpunk but I was intrigued by the concept and wanted to give it a shot! hopefully this is ok. random silly solarpunk AU ideas under the cut hehe

since solarpunk is about solar power and green/eco-friendly societal structure, I figured plants would be central to an ML solarpunk AU. it’s cool to imagine a version of Paris with lots of green areas and clever, space-saving, clean-energy solutions. I like the idea of the dupain-chengs having their own greenhouse where they grow ingredients for use in the bakery. And I wanted marinette to have her own greenhouse too where she grows plants that she uses as fibers and dyes for making clothes! So that’s what I drew here. Chat Noir likes to help marinette in her garden and he nerds out about the plants which she thinks is very cute:)

The plant in the middle is associated with ladybug and chat noir. I love sun/moon symbolism and that seemed to fit a solarpunk AU really well so I ran with it haha. in this AU I thought tikki could be a spotted sun beetle and plagg could be a black moon cat (or panther?). sun beetles would be associated with the sundrop plant (first image), and moon cats would be associated with moonflowers (second image). chat noir’s tattoo is a moonflower and in my mind ladybug would have a matching one that’s a sundrop.

The moonflower is inspired by the actual plant of the same name, which blooms only at night, except I wanted to also make it bioluminescent bc that’s cool lol. (I’ve been playing lots of tears of the kingdom and I always love the blue nightshades and silent princesses that glow blue in the dark!) irl moonflowers are actually a type of morning glory, which typically bloom in the morning in full sunlight and then close up at night. so in this AU the sundrop is the corresponding plant (since “sunflower” is already taken, haha) and it would also glow, but only during the day when it’s blooming.

I thought maybe sundrops and moonflowers could have magical effects and marinette is experimenting to discover them. maybe there’s stuff about them in the grimoire and she’s trying to unlock special powers for her and chat noir. maybe those effects and the symbolism of the plants could help her understand more about her and chat’s roles and abilities and potential and even help her discover the key to defeating hawkmoth…hmm… (I really haven’t thought too deeply about it lol I just like glowing plants)

As for their outfits…I was just trying to make them look sort of “punk”-y 😂 I feel like in all the punk AUs like steampunk, cyberpunk, etc, people are always wearing goggles and boots and aprons and vests and stuff with pockets and zippers and arm braces. So. I made a vague attempt fjdkkd

anyway thanks for humoring me with my rambling lol I hope you enjoy and that you had a good holiday!

#also sorry this is a little late!! #ml #marichat #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #solarpunk #mine #my art

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

Hiiii! I was wondering if you could write an Astarion x reader where Astarion cant go under sunlight yet he misses it so much. And maybe he comes across the reader who’s soaking in the sun and he admires them and then later he tells them that he misses the warmness of the sunlight and the reader cups his cheeks with their hands, letting Astarion feel the warmness that was left by the sun on the readers skin. Idk if this makes any sense but it’s a cute concept in my head 😭🫶🏻💕 thank you!!

You Are the Sun to Me

pairing : astarion x (female) reader

summary : astarion watches as you do the thing he longs to do the most, bask in the suns warmth. you allow him to feel it through your skin.

When you arrived in Baldur's Gate you figured your life would be different. And when you killed Cazador with Astarion by your side, you were sure that nothing would ever negatively affect the two of you again. So when the time came to defeat the elder brain, you were happy and excited. 

But when you found out that Astarion’s tadpole was no longer protecting him from the sun, your heart broke. Aching for the young man, the two of you fled from the city. He liked life on the road more anyways and you were willing to sacrifice the city for the wellbeing of your only love. 

Besides, camping around had its perks. Astarion was usually in charge of picking a spot for the night, and thankfully his taste was unmatched in everything he did. He always managed to find the most beautiful scenery. 

“I could never allow my lover to sleep on some shabby deer path, or in a smelly bog. What kind of man would I be? I know you’d enjoy a spot with a beach so much more,” He would say the most convincing words, kissing your hands, when you tried to convince him the spot you had first found was going to be fine. He would have no such thing, wouldn’t even humor your idea.

And of course, he was right, as he always was. When he finally picked a spot, a large open space for your tent and fire, and the defining feature, a river cut off from the world by a line of trees. It was like the world had put it there for the two of you alone, and he knew exactly where to find it. 

Throughout the day, when Astarion would spend his time reading inside of the tent to hide from the light, you would sneak off to the nearby river bank. 

With your clothes thrown haphazardly along the shore, you would lay in the sand and bask in the heat of the sun's light. It was your time to yourself, to relax, a time when you could let your guard down.

But Astarion had always been one to take advantage of an unsuspecting eye. So while you lay, with your eyes closed, relaxed in the sun's light. He would watch from the tree line, pupils wide with adoration.

A part of him was filled with envy of your ability to lay so freely in the sunlight. Another part was saddened to think that he would never be able to feel its warmth against his skin any longer. As bad as it was to have his mind violated by the tadpole, he missed the sun more than he had the first time. With the tadpole he had gotten another taste, but he never would again. 

Within all of his anguish, Astarion still found himself able to look at your figure taking in the sunlight, and still find your beauty of far more importance. It was hard to be envious of such a beautiful creature. 

“Astarion?”

Startled by your voice, he snaps out of his trance, and finds your eyes. 

“Sorry my love. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Just wanted to appreciate the scenery.” He settles his arm against the tree beside him to hold him up as he converses with you from afar. 

Slowly, you stand up to walk over to him with wobbly legs, tingly from not walking. 

“I can come back to camp if you want. I just need a moment.” 

“No no. Enjoy the sun.” Your heart aches once more as you see a sudden sadness glaze over his eyes, his lips purse as he holds back the emotions he truly feels. 

“Are you okay?” You approach his body now, standing under the darkness of the trees, hands reaching up to hold his face in the warmth of your hands. His face lifts, cheek pushing against your hand as he tries to get closer to the heat.

“You're so warm, my dear.” His cold fingers land atop your hand, a heavy contrast against the heat you had collected from the sun, “I miss this feeling.”

He feels his eyes begin to collect water but he swallows back any sadness, choosing to indulge in your warmth. You pull him into your body, his hands reaching around to feel at your back. Even though you had been laying on your back it was still warm, far warmer then his hands which sent a shiver up your spine. 

“I’m sorry.” You place your face into his neck, gently kissing his collarbone and neck.

“For what, darling?” 

“You’ll never get to walk in the sun again.” Your own eyes start to brim with tears, empathetic for his inability to feel the sun. He pulls away just enough to look down at you, slender fingers playing with the flesh on your waist.

Slowly he lifts his hands to wipe away stray tears sliding down your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, “As far as I’m concerned I never need to walk in the sun again while I have you on my side, my dear. You are the sun to me. You give me all the warmth I need, and your smile, gosh, I don’t think the sun could match how it brightens my day.”

His words send heat to your cheeks, which he takes advantage of by placing his hands on either side of your face, pulling you in to kiss your lips gently. 

“We could come back out when the moon is over us. Moonbathe, no sun needed.” He chuckles at your attempt to reconcile the fact that he can’t join you as you sunbathe.

“I would love nothing more.” 

#astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bdg3 #x reader #oneshot #drabble #female reader

[catladyhere]

Humans Are Space Orcs

Right?

Okay, so, what if aliens were to see what our kind had developed merely for entertainment purposes, which is a completely baseless IDEA of what we expect aliens to be like.

This is the one that got me thinking. Alien Isolation. The absolute horror that we have spent time and effort to create, to scare ourselves. Because a Deathworld wasn't fucking enough. It's enough to send a human screaming and whimpering. An (apparently) apex predator species.

It was a random day in the space station where sentient beings of all kinds worked at. One of the more adventurous Jlorps, against their good judgement, decided to ask human Oliver about his favourite horror 'entertainment'. Horror was a fairly new concept being slowly understood by the other beings, but how an instinctive reaction in the face of imminent doom, was a pastime, or even a FAVOURITE pastime, was beyond them. However, Oliver could not resist showing them what a Xenomorph is.

Jlorp Ilof watched, frozen in sheer terror, as they saw what the human mind considered terrifying, suddenly remembering all the serious advice that others of his kind, and other aliens too, gave them regarding this particular killer species. What's worse, was that Human Oliver was e x c i t e d to show them their kind's work, which was meant to scare them, which has stopped being scary on account of Oliver not accepting defeat.

"Well.... what do you think?" Oliver asked carefully, as he had observed the previously confident Ilof, slowly start to change their colour from a bright yellow to a dull purple, their kind's indication of feeling fear. He could not help but cringe a little internally, as he really should have thought things through before introducing a prey species to something that scares a good number of his own people.

Ilof spoke after a while, trying to think how they will forget what they saw a minute ago. It was downright traumatising for them. Humans alone were capable of terrifying most of the beings in their galaxy, what were they even thinking, asking their human friend what they were scared of?

"But... why? Why is simulated terror entertaining??" Ilof asked, as they did the Jlorp equivalent of wiping one's cold sweat.

"Because." Olive protested, "It gets our adrenaline flowing. It's a 'flight or fight' response from our brain, when we're in danger. If you subtract the danger from a situation, and add the comfort of knowing you yourself will be safe, it only leaves behind a racing pulse, which... well, it makes us feel alive."

Ilof was at a loss for words.

Human beings liked being in danger, but not dying. But they'd also heard stories about how some humans had readily jumped in the face of danger, where death was certain, to save their comrades. There were too much information in their head, all of them either connected or contradictory.

"Okay, Oliver, so let me get this straight, your kind feels dead at times, somehow, and you simulate death and destruction, to soothe said 'deadness'?"

"Precisely." Oliver beamed, which made the Jlorp further uncomfortable.

"I think I will retire to my work station now."

Ilof never asked another human being, what 'horror' they liked best, choosing to religiously follow the advice from other aliens who have experienced humans and their bizarre rituals and pastimes.

#EarthIsSpaceAustralia

#humansarespaceorcs

#humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #humans are strange

[frannyzooey]

Short Days,Long Nights: 10

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Mature (anxiety, pregnancy, grim mentions of childbirth)

Series Masterlist

A/N: thank you endlessly to @the-ginger-hedge-witch for reassuring me that this isn’t a terrible, no good, very bad piece of writing ❤️ and also, I wanna reassure you that despite the emotions in this chapter, my intention has always been a happy ending for these two. Don’t fret. ❤️

—

Something is off. 

He treads carefully down the path he’s followed for months, his boots leaving pressed imprints in the soft dirt and his eyes scan for signs of life. His mind is back in the cabin where he left you sleeping, your body curled into a tight ball along the edge of his form left on the sheets, and he tried hard not to wake you, though he didn’t have to be too careful given how tired you’ve been lately. 

Sleeping late, turning in early, naps in the middle of the day. You blame the heat, or the boredom, or the way reading makes you drowsy, but even he knows that’s not all it is. 

You’ve been distracted, quiet. Drawing into yourself more often these last couple weeks, he tries to recall if he’s said or done anything, to remember if he himself is the cause. It’s been a long time since he cared about what anyone else thought – definitely since he cared enough to want to atone for anything he’s done – but for you, he sifts through his words and actions.

He knows you so well by now. Knows every tell, every minute shift in your mood. More molecular than reading your body language, the air between you shifts and changes when you’re upset, your face betraying nothing to someone who doesn’t know you as well as he does. You’ve been hiding your face more from him lately, because he knows you must know it’s open for him like his is now open for you. 

The back of your head facing him in the garden, the peek of your forehead over the top of your book, the way you look at him like you’re about to say something, but when he gives you the space, you look away. 

Even at night, you hide your face into the soft crook of his neck to sleep.

He kneels to inspect deer tracks, his fingers brushing aside growth to follow their lead and heading deeper into the forest, the air around him cools under the canopy of trees. The woods are alive with sounds: bird calls, soft chittering, the rustle and slide of leaves, the crunch of his boots as they snap small twigs underfoot. 

Amidst it all, he tries to work out the puzzle of you; his bow held loose in his grip. 

–

Your hands shaking with nerves as you watch him disappear beyond the treeline, you pull your bottom lip into your mouth with a bite and scold yourself for not telling him about your suspicions this morning. 

Or yesterday.

Or the day before that.

You know you could probably keep your secret for at least a couple more months, but there was no point. Everything about surviving here depended on preparing; the sooner, the better, making all the difference between life and death. 

Your palms turn clammy, another rush of bile creeping up your sternum as you run out the cabin door before it comes pouring out into the grass and feeling shaky after, you walk over to the rocking chair on the porch and take a seat, letting your head fall forward into your hands. 

Being forced to confront the concept of your life ending more times than you would have ever imagined over the last ten years, you’d thought you’d be desensitized to it now… but this was a wholly different type of fear. Not so much the idea that you might actually die while going through with this, (which, over the course of the last few weeks has become a much more terrible, terrifying thought) but more the fear of doing it alone.  

Nothing to guide you, no one to help in case something went wrong. You knew that women had been birthing children in their homes for centuries now, many of them in the same exact position you were in – but they had midwives and neighbors who came from afar to help. Other women around them who had gone through it before, advice handed down from generation to generation. Reassurance in the form of knowledge. 

You would have someone, you reasoned with yourself, if you told him. Joel has always been there to take care of you, and you know this time wouldn’t be any different, but how much did he know about this? Even if he knew a little, that information was almost three decades old. 

Another small part of you felt, even though you know he would never mean to make you feel this way, that you let him down. As if you could stop the science of your body and it betrayed you, or that you compromised this entire setup by foolishly ignoring the consequences of your actions. The last couple weeks a brutal reminder that you have been somewhat romanticizing this possibility, that alone carried its own humiliation.

Now faced with the confirmation of it, you were ashamed. And scared. 

This odd mixture of feelings, just like the odd mix of sensations in your body, kept you from saying anything every time you had a chance. He wouldn’t be mad, you knew that, but your hormone addled brain kept conjuring images of his disappointed face and that was almost worse. 

You press your fingers into your eyes, liquid warmth seeping through the digits as you think and you let the tears fall, taking deep, shaky inhales. 

More than anything, you worried about fracturing the bridge that had been built between the two of you, especially given his past. He already lost one child, what if something happened to this one? His perceived failure almost ruined him the first time; a gaping, ten year wound that tore him apart and ravaged his mind and morals. Only now just beginning to heal, what will this do to him?

The thoughts are circular, never ending. 

Will he even want this? Are you unknowingly forcing him into something he’s dreaded? You know he knew the far away consequences of your shared actions, but will he hate you? Will he resent the burden you are? The one you’re carrying, for the rest of his life?

How will you care for it? How will you feed it? Is there enough food prepared for something like this? How will you do this alone? What if it gets sick?

The worries expand and grow, filling your head with a relentless noise that makes you queasy. You think about telling him as soon as he gets back, and a cold sweat breaks along your hairline, running over your limbs. 

Getting up, you lean over the railing and purge your nerves onto the ground below. 

–

Standing in the kitchen, his back is to you and you take a moment to study the broad width of his shoulders. The dark curls that edge around the nape of his neck, the strength held in his solid frame. Cleaning his gun, he’s recounting his day in the woods to you and you are trying so hard to focus on his words, but you can’t. Not while the worries from this afternoon run rampant in your head, clouding everything. 

Still, it’s the image of his back that convinces you to tell him: sturdy, solid, familiar. Those curls are the same you’ve felt in your hands for months: sliding between your fingers as you run through them at night, coiled tightly on the ground before they lifted into the air when you gave him a haircut last week, slicked smooth along his head after a swim. 

You hand wash the clothes on that back, massage the tired, thick muscles of it, stroke the tanned, freckled skin in the sunlight. Dig your fingers into the meat of those shoulders, curl your legs around that torso, feel its broadness underneath you when you straddle him. 

It’s guided you, carried you, the formidable strength in it has made this place a home, and the reassuring reminder of those things forces you to open your mouth. 

“Joel, I –” you start, and he stops talking, turning his ear in your direction. 

“Yea?” His attention is still on his task but he slows, and your gut churns with nerves and anxiety and new life. You take a deep breath and focus on his back; the one that you’ve been following for months, before you even knew who he was. 

“I’m pregnant.”

He immediately stills, his frame locking up as his hands stop what he’s doing. 

When he doesn’t move, you take a hesitant step closer, pushing through the urge to run into your bedroom and hide under the blankets. The air in the room is charged, your heart thundering in your chest and when you take another tiny step closer, he finally speaks. 

“You’re sure?” he asks, resting his hands carefully on the edge of the counter. 

“Yea,” you reply, letting out a breath and trying to ease the tension. “I mean, no test, obviously, but…”

He nods slowly, absorbing the information. 

You stare at the back of his neck, willing him to turn around, but when he doesn’t, shame and embarrassment begin to bloom. Starting in your chest, the emotions take root and your fingers find the bottom of your sleeves and twist into the fabric, the familiar tingle of heat growing behind your eyes. 

Even though you know that both of you had a hand in this, you find yourself apologizing.

“I’m sorry —“

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he turns quickly. 

“Hey — stop. No, don’t say that. Come ‘ere.”

Shortening the distance between your bodies, his face is a worried expression so thoroughly earnest that you step right into his arms, tucking your face into his chest. He gathers you into his hold, his familiar scent of sweat and cotton and woods soothing your nerves, and you lean into him, holding tight. 

“I told you, you don’t gotta say sorry. Not to me.” His arms squeeze tighter, his chin coming to rest on the top of your head. “I was just – I didn’t expect that. I was just thinkin’.”

“That’s all I’ve been doing these last couple weeks,” you admit. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. It’s just that I didn’t know for sure, and then I thought maybe I knew, and then I did know but I was so scared –”

“Shhh,” he soothes. “Hey, it’s okay. S’okay.”

Those words, said in his voice, bring fresh tears to your eyes, not realizing how much you needed to hear them until they were spoken out loud. Only by him, the only person you would accept them from because if he says it’s going to be okay, you know it to be true. He hasn’t failed you yet. 

As if it only just occurs to him to check, he suddenly cups your face tenderly in his hands and makes you look up at him.

“You okay? You sick? How do you feel?”

“I’m….okay. I can’t tell if I’m more sick from the –” you stop short, unable to say the word out loud. Saying it makes it real and you aren’t ready for that yet. “I was pretty nervous to tell you.”

He says nothing, frowning. Searching your face for a moment, he nods as if he understands and brings you back to your place in his arms. 

“I’m not mad at you, honey,” he murmurs. “If anything, you should be mad at me. I’m just as much at fault as you are. More, even.”

Your cheek staying pressed to the hollow of his shoulder, you frown. “How so?”

“I’m older than you are. I know better. I —“

“I know how sex works, Joel. I asked you for it, and I’m just as guilty —“

“I’m responsible for you.” His hand tilts your face up, so he can look you directly in the eyes and the statement is said with a finality that closes your mouth. “I gotta keep you safe — and there ain’t nothin’ safe about this.”

You feel your face start to crumple, your chest heavy with the shared knowledge. 

“No,” you swallow, the edges of your mouth turning into something solemn. “No, there isn’t.”

His expression softens, his thumb stroking the fine hair at your temple and his voice softens too. 

“It’ll be okay, honey. I’m right here.” His hold on your face firms, his eyes silently willing you to understand. “I would never, never let anything bad happen to you. Not ever.”

You both know that’s not a promise that he can make, but the words are like a raft in a storm; you cling to them, holding on with every fiber of your being. 

“You understand?” he asks and you nod, the constant weight on your chest these last few weeks temporarily dissolving. 

Your nod reassuring him, he guides your face back to his chest and with the weight of his broad hand sliding soothingly down your spine, you loosen under his touch. 

Each lost in your own thoughts, the two of you stand there, wound tightly together. 

–

It’s been hours, and he still can’t sleep.

A light breeze catches the curtain and the fabric waves lazily, your body still beside him in the dark room. You took some soothing to come down from the confession earlier, and he stayed by you until you went to sleep: tucked you into his side on the couch, wound himself around you in bed, took you apart only after he got your okay. 

He lays naked, nothing but a thin sheet covering his form but it might as well be a weighted blanket with how his chest feels. It tightens and burns, a crushing pressure settling on top of it. Every breath becomes a pained struggle for air as he tries to stay still so you don’t wake up. 

He doesn’t know anything about this. 

Hazy memories: partial pieces of advice, parenting books and pediatrician visits and the day Sarah was born. Everything blends together in rapid succession: her sharp, bright wail, the team of doctors, her impossibly tiny body, featherlight in his hold. 

He pictures the same thing in this room, but instead of bright lights and beeping machines, all he can picture is blood. So much blood. 

Your face, twisted in pain. 

Your face, crying. 

Your pretty face, pleading for him to help you. 

He tries to pull in air, his hand coming to push against the plane of his chest as the anxiety floods and gathers under his sternum, catching on and coating the muscles there until he’s locked in place. A cold sweat breaks out over his skin and he can barely hear the rapid, shallow pants of his own breathing under the rush of blood through his ears. 

His vision tunnels, the walls of the room disappearing and self loathing creeps into his mind, as dark as the night outside. 

He did this to you. You wanted it, but he knew better. He was supposed to protect you. 

He closes his eyes tight and swallows hard, willing the panic away. 

If something happens to you, it’s going to be his fault. He’s going to fail you, like he failed her. Fail the both of you. 

Reaching out to grasp the sheet at his side as a means to anchor himself, he brushes the back of his hand against your hip and he opens his eyes, turning to face your back. Faced away from him, the soothingly slow rise and fall of your breathing catches his gaze and focusing on the pattern of it, he forces himself to match it. 

In and out. In and out. 

His hand splays over the slope of your waist, curving around your side and the warm give of your flesh reassures him. His vision clears, the softened edges of your shadowed form bringing him back to the room and the white noise filling his head fades, the tension in his chest slowly easing. He flexes his hold on you, his thumb sliding across your bare skin. 

You turn in your sleep, rolling over to face him and lifting his hand just enough to let you move, he rests it back on your side. His thumb drags across your petal soft skin, his eyes dropping down to watch and before he can stop himself, the back of his knuckles brush delicately against the natural swell of your stomach. 

He remembers the fear, but looking down at his hand, something blooms deep within that pit beneath his sternum. Something else, something that’s been lying dormant for years, but when he sees his hand against your bare stomach, it takes root and pierces through the surface of the panic.

Hesitantly, he lets himself feel those things, in the safety of the dark room. 

Anticipation. Joy. Happiness, contentment. Love, that he’d never imagined he’d feel again. 

He feels a version of it when he looks at you right now — a deeper version of it, a calmer one. A steady, anchoring emotion, one that he fought in the beginning but now has given in and gotten used to it. 

The love that he has for you planted within your body, taking root. 

His thumb drags over your belly button, and you shift in your sleep. 

“There’s nothing there yet,” you mumble, the words a soft slur in the darkness. “Go to sleep, baby.”

He hums lowly, his hand splaying to cover your stomach. Fingertip to thumb, it spans from hip to hip, but when you shift again next to him, he reluctantly pulls it away. 

Gathering you as gently as he can in his arms, he tilts his chin down to catch your mouth with his. Sleep warm and soft, you kiss him back and his arm winds around your waist, tugging you close. 

With your belly cradled between the two of you, he falls asleep. 

#joel miller/reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller/you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller tlou #tlou fanfic #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[yelenasfloppyhand]

Spencer Reid × gn!reader.

Warnings: mentions of death, not explicitly mentioned gunshot wounds, grief and blood.

Summary: when what should be an easy case ends up going horribly wrong.

"You're okay honey, look at me. Good that's so good baby, keep looking at me" Spencer sounded frantic as he begged you to keep looking at him. You weren't entirely sure what had happened. One minute you had the unsub in your sights, your gun raised towards him. And the next you found yourself on the dirty floor of the old warehouse where the team had located the unsub.

"Spence... my stomach hurts" you whine, clearly you're disoriented, maybe it was the pain, or possibly the blood loss. You'd looked down only to see Spencer's shaking hands pressed to your abdomen, blood now coating his normally clean hands.

"I know honey I know, you're gonna be okay" his eyes, oh his gorgeous eyes that were a comforting warm brown with golden specks smothering the space around his irises, they were staring back at you with... grief? Fear perhaps?

"I don't wanna die..." it was pathetic how weak you sounded, and if you weren't currently bleeding out in your husbands arms you would've reprimanded yourself for letting your mask slip, for allowing your fear to cover your tough facade. But you truly hadn't been this scared before, maybe that was a lie... maybe you were more scared when you first laid eyes on your newborn daughter, the daughter that you and Spencer loved to death. Death is a funny concept, or at least that's how you see it, you can recall Spencer telling you that he had seen a bright light whilst in deaths grasp. But you couldn't help but be scared, for you had no idea what laid beyond the life you're living, was it dark? was it inviting? Perhaps it is like a hug... or possibly comparable to bring thrown in a frozen lake?

"D- don't say that. You're gonna be okay, and we're gonna go home to our baby girl. And you're gonna give her kisses like you always do, you're going to read her her favourite story. I promise." You couldn't fault him, his promise was inviting, it was almost believable. But you'd been studying human behaviour for years and you knew when someone wasn't sure of their own words. You could see the salty tears that threatened to roll down your husbands cheeks like a wave rolling calmly across the undisturbed ocean surface.

You could didn't have the heart to tell your poor husband that you weren't leaving this warehouse alive. The hope in his eyes was enough to diminish any thought of arguing against his prior statement.

Your toes and fingers were begining to tingle, maybe it was death pulling you're life from you on string at a time... perhaps it was the blood loss making you feel weightless, whatever it was you weren't entirely sure if you welcomed it or not.

"I- I don't wanna die... but- I think im ready" you whisper, at this point your skin is deathly pale and you can feel your chest struggle to move as you attempt to fill your lungs what ever air you can aquire. You felt heavy, but yet somehow also weightless, like you were sinking into a cloud, clouds are mostly condensation so surely you could be heavy enough to sink through one whilst also being light enough to have remained on the cloud. Well now you just weren't making any sense, how could you lay on a cloud, despite it being an obvious metaphor you felt troubled by the way your mind was traveling.

"I know... baby I know." Spencer sniffles, oh... he knew? Perhaps it was the calmness in your expression, maybe it was the smoothness of your voice. You felt guilty, you had a wonderful husband and a 3 year old daughter that you would die for. You didn't want to leave your husband widowed at 31 and you didn't want to leave your daughter wondering when you were coming home, you didn't want her to think that youd abandoned her. But you knew that there was no way you could survive this. You could feel it, you could feel yourself... dying.

"I'm sorry" your voice shook with regret and guilt as you stared into your husbands glassy eyes, you allowed your eyes to wander over his face almost as if they were frolicking through a beautiful garden, you adored his beautiful nose, and the few freckles that graced his smooth shining skin, the small amount of stubble peaking through as he had been to preoccupied getting your daughter dressed for preschool this morning to shave, you lastly glanced at his full pink lips that were pulled into an odd mix between a frown and a soft smile.

"It's okay sweetheart. You can go." It felt odd him telling you that you had his permission to go. Go where? You weren't entirely sure yourself, but once the words had left his beautiful lips you could physically feel yourself relax slightly.

You'd always found the thought of kissing someone that was dying odd, as a child it almost felt like necrophilia when a character would kiss their dying lover in a movie. Perhaps you'd mellowed with age, or perhaps you couldn't fathom the idea of dying without kissing the love of your life once more.

Spencer gently cupped your cheek not caring for the blood that was smeared against your pale cheek, he gently slotted his lips against yours. After 10 years they still fit perfectly, it was almost like finding the missing piece of your puzzle that you've searched years for.

And so for one last time your normally vivacious bright eyes turned dull, staring into nothingness as your body gave into the blood loss. Spencer couldn't bring himself to look into your dead eyes so instead with a shuddering breath he gently closed your eyes but not before pressing a goodbye kiss to your forehead.

Note: thank you for reading, please don't hesitate to correct any grammar mistakes. Also just a reminder my requests are open so feel free to request a story.

#criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds

[hellenhighwater]

I love the celestial Minotaur concept. Am I out of line to ask, what celestial moment in time would b e appropriate for each one? You mentioned ArtPrize, and since I live in the same state as you and have been to Art Prize (lol in conjunction with your profession,even), I considered the venue for display. A big bedsheet size heavens moment in time? Over each sculpture (shockingly inexpensive to print)? So many messages could be implied with the astrological moment above. As someone who loves a good research rabbit hole, I wince to send this, but I couldn't not ask, you know?

I actually don't have an answer to specific astronomical moments for this--astrology has never been my thing. The primary resonance of a celestial theme to me with this series has been more about the layered tragedy of a creature named for the stars, who may never have even seen them, and also something about a finished story being like the light of a dead star--we still see it, but the ending of it is already written, and as unavoidable and unchangeable as history. And also I just like space!

But one of the things I really love about making and sharing art is that people see different things in it. I didn't expect A Crack in the Labyrinth to resonate with homebound people in the way that it did; that was a total surprise. I tend to make things with a very clear message and symbolism in mind (the process of making things is time consuming but does not take a ton of conscious thought in the physical process, so I tend to have very thoroughly contemplated things by the time I'm done, because ADHD brain Does Not Stop) and it feels like a win when people get that message. But it's also really exciting to see expansion on that! I try to walk the line of making my intent clear while leaving room for that interpretation. I struggle to not cram allll the ideas into one piece.

So I'm not planning to actually incorporate my clock of the world or any other outright, external "sky" to these pieces, in large part because it feels too explicit in message. Kind of like 'telling' instead of 'showing.' I have thought about, if I'm able to successfully cast multiples of the miniataur, maybe some kind of small display space that could include a little starry sky of some kind.

#i have overthinking art disease and its INCURABLE

[sykokilljoyy]

If reqs are still open, could you do w2s harry x golden retriever!Reader? Like she’s just always happy and overjoyed? I’m curious to see their dynamic

WROETOSHAW X GOLDEN RETRIEVER!READER HEADCANONS

a/n: i am in love with whoever sent this anon. i love people w golden retriever energy they're my favs so this is my fav y/n concept ever ever. also quickly learnt i have no idea how to spell retriever it's so hard for no reason. love u all!! more writing coming soon x

firstly, this man is cuddly. i don't care who you ask, he's a real life teddy bear and i'm not accepting any arguments

so when it comes to you, and your very apparent love language of touch, this sweet man cannot stop his arms from opening to you.

2am, 6am, 11pm, no matter when, and no matter the reason, he can't deny how persuasive your giddy grin can be, and the puppy dog eyes, of course

you're his biggest supporter by a mile

he makes some toast?? round of applause for this man

you're so proud of him no matter what

and you make it so obvious, which he appreciates beyond words

you both come as a package

wherever he goes, you go – happily, with a smile on your face

to summarise the dynamic, it's a lot of heart eyes

the first time you both went public with the relationship, on a Sidemen Sunday of all places, the comments consisted of basically a lot of;

'oh my god the way they look at him is so cute'

'i can't get over the way they look at him'

'Y/N IS ADORABLE I CAN'T'

harry is a big gift giver

sometimes it's hard for him to convey his emotions with words, he can struggle with affection from time to time

but when things get hard and he can't tell you how much he loves you, you'll come home to a beautiful necklace, or tickets to a concert from favourite artist, or a romantic getaway somewhere expensive

you hop excitedly into his room to thank him

he's sitting at his desk, nervous, hoping his gift is telling you what he can't

him seeing your bright, loving smile and the buzz in your eyes makes his whole body relax and he finally finds the words

“i love you so much, y/n”

you jump to him, face buried in his neck, and he can't deny that the feeling of your embrace makes his heart sore out of his chest

one morning, after a long day the day before

you’re laying in his bed, barely conscious, your eyes still misty from sleep

immediately, you feel harry’s arms pull gently at your waist, bringing you towards him

his lips are on your cheek, hands touching your skin softly

he can feel your smile without even opening his eyes

“you know you reach for me in your sleep” he whispers, his voice is still haunted by sleep

“because i love you, and you’re always warm”

“you’re like a golden retriever, you know”

he feels you smile wider

the only downside of this dynamic, is when arguments arise

conflict is always natural in a relationship, and you do understand that

but you wear your heart on your sleeve, and your admiration for your boyfriend is so strong that when it gets rough, and maybe communication gets skewed, you find it incredibly hard

if he needs space, you find it difficult to keep your mind from him

you give him whatever he needs to get his head straight, and he does the same, but it rattles you a little, not being with him when you need to the most

but when he calls you one night, with his tone warm as honey, asking how you are, that he's missed you and he's ready to talk things through, your heart fills with happiness and relief

overall, it's the sweetest dynamic, and harry adores it

you're a bundle of joy with a heart of gold, and the love you have for this man, you're never secretive about it

he wouldn't ever change it for the world <3

#wroetoshaw #ksi #behzinga #miniminter #sidemen #wroetoshaw fanfiction #wroetoshaw imagine #fanfiction #sidemen fanfic #sidemen fanfiction #headcanon #wroetoshaw x reader #wroetoshaw smut #wroetoshaw fanfic #wroetoshaw imagines #harry lewis imagines #harry lewis fanfic #harry lewis fanfiction #harry lewis x reader #harry lewis imagine #harry lewis smut #harry lewis #sidemen x reader #sidemen imagine #sidemen imagines #harry lewis headcanon #wroetoshaw headcanon #sidemen headcanon #headcannons #wroetoshaw headcannon

[jessamine-rose]

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Ghost Heart ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Long before A Winter Night’s Lazzo, I was already down bad for a certain Harbinger. This idea for Yandere! Scaramouche/ Wanderer randomly manifested at 1:00 a.m. and, like a fool, I decided to write it. It is my sincere wish that you all cry over enjoy this fic (*´ω`*)

Tw:: yandere, manipulation, mention of death and kidnapping, 3.3 spoilers

♡ 3k words under the cut ♡

“You’re still here.”

There is nothing grand about this specific Desert House. The rental space is sparsely furnished, fit for a party of two. Everything is the way Scaramouche had left it—an unmade bed, a small suitcase, a set of chains reduced to solitary links.

A vintage tea set sits on the table. One cup is filled with tea, a bitter blend judging by the scent. The other cup is empty.

The Wanderer crosses the threshold and approaches the ghost on the floor.

Not a ghost. His beloved.

Somehow, your countenance has dimmed since his departure. Dried tears and dark eye circles decorate your face. Your gaze is blank, lifeless, akin to that of a doll.

“Why…why are you here?” He raises his voice, unable to hide his disbelief.

His chest feels heavy. Though no organ beats within, the concept of heartache comes to mind. Behind him, a strong gust of wind assails the forest and slams the door shut.

Your response is a confused frown.

“Do I know you?”

You’ve forgotten him.

The revelation stings despite his preconceived knowledge. In his defense, the Wanderer hadn’t intended a lover’s reunion. He only returned to this place to reminisce, to confirm your freedom, to see if he could settle for any memento of you.

So what prevented you from leaving?

It was your prisoner, Scaramouche, who destroyed your chains prior to the erasure of his existence. His current self is the last person whom you should be crossing paths with.

The Wanderer only offers a false smile.

“I’m just another person passing through,” he says lightly. He introduces himself with his new name suggested by the Traveler.

“I see…” You repeat his name to yourself. Similar to his previous monikers, it has never sounded more lovely in your voice.

Nor so innocent. Fear, hatred, sorrow, pity, joy, fondness—all of those familiar sentiments are lost in your tone.

It is difficult to maintain his composure. “You haven’t answered my question. What are you doing in this house? Nothing about you screams ‘happy tourist.’”

“I don’t know.”

The answer comes out in a whisper. After a few seconds of silence, you finally stand up and make proper eye contact with him.

“My name is ______,” you tell him. “Please excuse my appearance; nobody has visited this place before. I’m aware that I look like a wreck.”

“That is an understatement,” he replies matter-of-factly. “I nearly mistook you for a ghost. So why don’t you explain your circumstances before I consider sending you to Bimarstan?”

“...All right.” Looking away, you take a seat at the table.

The Wanderer joins you.

You fill his teacup. “Are you sure that you’d like to hear my story? This is hard to explain, and it might take a while.”

He crosses his arms. “I have all day.”

“Okay. Would you like some desserts? The kitchen is fully stocked; I know what pairs best with Misty Garden.”

“No thanks, I’m not fond of sweets.”

How long ago was your last tea ceremony? Not even your defiant moods produced this amount of tension. Or is this merely the distance between two strangers?

“There is something wrong with my memories,” you tell him.

He frowns at you. “What do you mean by that?”

Something wrong? Did Irminsul not purge him from your memories?

“What I’m saying is that I have little to no recollection of how I ended up here.”

Your mannerisms are the same. He never thought that the mundane act of passing a teacup would feel so nostalgic.

You continue speaking. “I have vivid memories of my early life. I had a family, friends, a peaceful home. But everything after that is static and fragmented. It’s like I forgot everything between then and now.”

He grips his cup. “So what is your first faulty memory?”

“I see flashes of red and violet," you tell him, “along with a human face. I can’t remember the details but I know it belonged to a beautiful person. Then I look down and there are snacks, tea sets, wrapped gifts all prepared by my own hands. I get the feeling that I was extremely happy, happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

The beginning of your courtship.

You were such a cute, interesting civilian back in those days. Always shyly greeting him, offering heartfelt gifts, inviting him to your home for tea. Despite being above such human needs, Scaramouche found himself endeared by your efforts.

From the moment he met you, his chest began to feel less hollow.

A dreamy sigh. “I’m pretty sure that I’d fallen in love with somebody.”

“How romantic,” he says sarcastically, glancing at his reflection in the teacup. “And you have no memory, at all, of your presumed lover?”

“Yes,” you reply sadly. “It was a short period of my life, one which lasted…months? It’s all so blurry, and I wish I could say the same for what happened next.”

A dark look passes over your face. But this time, your animosity isn’t directed at him.

“One day, the Fatui burned down my village. Don’t ask me why; all I know is that I was separated from my family then kept as a prisoner. I never saw them again.”

“What else do you remember from that period of your life?”

You look around the house. “I didn’t have an ordinary prison. It was a pretty place, a fancy house in Snezhnaya. I can see myself staring out the window, roaming the halls, crying myself to sleep. I usually felt scared, depressed, happy once in a while…but never alone.”

Your shared home.

He wonders if that ostentatious manor still stands. It was the stage for several quarrels, punishments, breakdowns, tense meals, intimate nights, cuddle sessions after his nightmares. An ersatz home which owed its warmth to your company.

The tea tastes perfectly bitter.

“Is that all?” he asks. “Did you spend all your days in that prison?”

Your cup shakes in your hands.

“There were visits. From a masked man who called himself the Doctor. Once, I was brought to his laboratory and he…he operated on me; he said it was to keep me alive. Would you find me crazy if I told you that I’ve lived for decades? It feels—no, I know it’s been that long.”

Dottore.

His sole glimmer of relief is Dottore’s mercy on you. Even without knowing the truth of Niwa’s death, Scaramouche was paranoid throughout your operation. The time spent waiting for you to wake up had felt like an eternity.

“I wouldn’t put it past the Fatui to curse a person with immortality,” he grimaces.

You give him an odd look. Suspecting his investment in your story, perhaps. That is new; you always saw the best in everyone, including him.

You take another sip of tea. “That’s all I can say about my time with the Fatui. One day, not too long ago, they brought me to Inazuma. Followed by Sumeru.”

Your final moments together.

Those days are still fresh in his memory. After the Electro Gnosis was acquired, the two of you quickly left Inazuma. Then Scaramouche confined you to this wretched house, splitting his time between this place and the Akademiya.

That time, he was purely focused on his godly ascension. He was so foolish to think that his lifelong dream was at his fingertips when you were already in his arms.

He grits his teeth. “And what happened here?”

You shrug. “I know for sure that I wasn’t a happy tourist, because I don’t remember any other part of Sumeru. Do you see those broken chains? Those were used to shackle me.”

There is a scar on your ankle. The sight triggers a fresh stab of guilt.

“It went by so quickly,” you whisper, “but I wasn’t lonely at all. I can hear conversations between me and a voice, but I can’t decipher any of the words. Next, I’m looking at my legs and the chains are off. Then I…I can’t remember!”

Even the Wanderer fails to predict the shift in your demeanor. You bang your cup on the table, spilling tea all over the wooden surface, and burst into tears.

“I don’t know what happened after!” you wail. “I can’t sense anything, just this strong feeling of dread. Then after retracing my steps, that’s when I realize how empty I feel. Something is missing—it feels so wrong.”

His departure.

If the Wanderer were to identify his deepest regret, it would be his last memory of you. He was so blindsided by his grief, desperate to return the lives he had stolen from his loved ones. From you.

It was laughable, really. He remembers breaking the chains and shaking you off him. Yet after everything he’d put you through, it was you who stayed inside and insisted that he rethink his decision. Be it out of forgiveness or vengeance, he still hasn’t figured it out.

Tea drips onto the table. The Wanderer didn’t notice that his own hand was shaking.

Fate truly finds delight in playing cruel tricks on its prisoners.

He takes a proper look at you. You’ve always been an emotional creature, a slave to human fragility. But not even his previous acts of cruelty had driven you to such anguish.

No, he was the true fool. How could he underestimate the intricacy with which your existences were intertwined? How could he leave your fate to the arbitrary laws of this world? Instead of liberating you, he only cursed his beloved once more.

On instinct, he raises his hand to wipe your tears but catches himself at the last second.

“If these memories cause you such pain,” he says gravely, “then why bother reliving them? Is it not easier to move on and lead a new life?”

“No, I can’t.” You shake your head vigorously, a stubborn gesture he is all too acquainted with. “If I do that, how could I possibly make sense of anything?”

The Wanderer says nothing. You wipe your tears and point at the teapot.

“Isn’t this blend of tea quite bitter?”

“It is. I find that flavor superior to sweets.”

“A long time ago, I would have disagreed with you. I wasn’t fond of bitter flavors in my youth but one day, during that time of my life when I was most happy, I gained a taste for it! Nobody in my family likes bitter food so who was the one that influenced my palate?”

Your suitcase is next. When you turn it over, an assortment of clothes and ornaments spills out onto the floor.

“These items! I could never afford such luxuries, and these are all in my favorite style and color. If these were gifts, they must’ve come from someone who knew me dearly.”

The Wanderer can only remain silent as you parse through every memory preserved in the Desert House. Sticky candies purchased just for you. Handcrafted gifts which Scaramouche had nitpicked but secretly adored. Objects of hobbies which he’d viewed as idle distractions unless he was entertaining your whims.

“I have to remember!” You fall to your knees, dissolving into a fresh wave of hysteria. “How could I forget someone so important to me?!”

How unsightly.

If this was one of your old breakdowns, he could reprimand you then make quick work of tidying you up. But such tough love is reserved for Scaramouche and his beloved, not for the Wanderer and a stranger.

In his long life, you were the one person who never betrayed him. So why did he leave you first? Love, sacrifice, repentance…what he claimed to be a parting gift was only a selfish act to end his own suffering.

Instead, he crouches next to you and awkwardly pats your back. When you wrap your arms around him, he refrains from drawing you closer.

There is a long pause.

“Hey…did you tell me the truth earlier?”

“What are you talking about?”

You break off the hug, hands moving to the blue side of his tunic. A light tug exposes the deep scar on his shoulder.

“Where did you get this?” you ask softly. “It…I don’t know why but it caught my eye.”

He stiffens. “That is none of your business.”

He said the same thing when it was a fresh wound. Nonetheless, you fretted over the blemish and told him to exercise more caution during his missions. You never listened to him when he insisted that puppets could withstand more damage.

You look up, taking in every detail of the Wanderer’s stunned expression.

“You feel familiar, too. I don’t know if it’s muscle memory or a gut feeling but…” You grip his shoulders, blinking back tears. “Did anything ever happen between us?”

He could grant you a small mercy.

“Nothing worth mentioning,” he replies. He holds your wrists, mustering a glare. “It is vulgar to point out one’s imperfections in such a manner, you know.”

Your curiosity morphs into indignance. “What do you mean ‘nothing’? After everything I’ve told you, you should know that any small memory is worth everything!”

If only you knew.

Against his better judgment, his hand finds its way to your cheek.

“Really,” he mutters. “You haven’t changed at all.”

To think that even after obtaining a heart, a part of him remains empty. And what more for your journeys continuing to diverge? If he could indulge his delusions once more, he might just believe that fate is finally on his side.

Never mind if he is wrong. If one truth exists in this world, it is that you are the only part of his past worth holding on to.

“Would you like to go with me?”

“What?” You blink at him, eyes wide.

The Wanderer levels you with a serious look. “Don’t make me say it twice. If you are tormented by all these mementos, then it is common sense to leave this place.”

“But I—!”

“Staying here will not bring back your mystery companion,” he snaps. “And if your memory is so helpful, you’d know that your former dream was to explore Teyvat. I couldn’t grant that wish before, ______, but I can do it now.”

You avert your gaze. “I can believe that. But why are you…?”

He stands up, holding out his hand to you. Any perceived confidence is merely an illusion to mask his own turbulent thoughts.

“Frankly, you would be a fool to say yes,” he admits. “I have no home, no kin, no destination. But I can promise you my heart and all that it has to offer.”

What sentimental rubbish. To your credit, many of your sweet remarks were brushed off for the purpose of concealing his flustered reactions.

He isn’t blind to the hesitance in your gaze. He can see it now, the tug-of-war between doubt and hope. The trust he will need to regain.

The warmth of your hand hasn’t changed.

“I’ll go with you.” You timidly bow your head. It almost reminds him of the first time you met. “What do I have to lose?”

“I hope you understand what you’re doing,” he warns. He wipes your tears with his free hand. “If you insist on continuing down this path, then don’t blame me for what comes next.”

“Noted!” You stand up and lift your head. Your gaze is brighter, clearer this time. “I still have questions, though. Lots of them.”

His response is a dismissive wave of his hand. “Ask me anything if you want. If a question is interesting enough, I may give you an answer.”

How much should he reveal to you, he wonders? And will it be a beautiful lie or the ugly truth? He has already found the answer for himself but you are a different matter.

The Wanderer gives the house another critical glance.

“Firstly, we must pack your belongings,” he announces. “Pick the items which will be of use to us. Everything else will be left behind.”

“Wait, how can I decide on that?” you exclaim. “This is all I have!”

He gives you an unimpressed look. “Then shall I choose for you?”

The speed at which you begin packing amuses him. He supposes that the desire for power is one he can never shake off, especially after becoming human.

After reorganizing your suitcase, the two of you finish your tea. Your conversations are still lackluster in comparison to your previous tea ceremonies, but he will acknowledge your change in countenance.

He hasn’t seen that precious smile in forever. This time, he will make sure that it survives every day in your new life.

Outside, the wind has calmed to a gentle breeze. You idle at the threshold, to which your new companion flashes you an impatient look.

“It’s too late for you to back out,” he says, harsher than intended. He takes your hand, intertwining your fingers. “There is no need to be nervous.”

That is what brings you out of your reverie. “You’re right. Where do we go now?”

Where will you go? There is his current lodgings; he will need to change rooms unless you are open to sharing a bed again. Then while you’re in Sumeru, a few tourist attractions will do. You never did get to enjoy the region as a couple.

“Let’s explore this forest first,” he decides. “The scenery is absolutely breathtaking, and I know a vantage point. You are just the type of person to get easily excited by the view.”

“For someone who claims to be an unimportant acquaintance, you sure know a lot about me,” you shoot back. Your lips curve into a small smile. “...Thank you. I’ll be in your care.”

That heavy feeling returns to his chest.

“There is no need to thank me.” The Wanderer stares ahead, but the flush in his cheeks betrays his feelings. “I see little point in it.”

Honestly, had he known how burdensome a heart could be, perhaps he wouldn’t have sought one to begin with. But at this point, the consequences can only be accepted.

If this is his punishment for committing the sin of love, then he shall gladly pay the price.

♡

Before anyone asks, I have no plans to write a Scara longfic. Due to his character growth, I find it difficult to write a fic that incorporates his full story. I’m also just not interested in writing a longfic for him or other characters.

Aahh I hope y’all enjoyed this!! Scaramouche/ Wanderer is very dear to my heart and I hope I did him justice. At least he and his darling get some sort of twisted happily ever after <3

Tag a Scaramouche enjoyer!! @ddarker-dreams @after-witch @leftdestiny-posts @oofasleep @lcveaesop @harmonysanreads @dreamii-yume @cinnamonest @ladycoleigh @robindere @venranae @yhreah @scaranya @misachan1506 @themiraclouskeeper @phen0l @nimandu

#scaramouche #wanderer #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere wanderer x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere wanderer #yandere fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #tw: yandere #tw: dark #tw: manipulation #g/n reader #jessamine-writing

[yuri-is-online]

Host With the Most (Vil Schoenheit x Yuu)

Intro

notes: they/them used for Yuu, in this house we love Vil Schoenheit and his pursuit of aesthetic beauty, Vil is very touchy with Yuu because he likes them, Yuu is a wee bit oblivious. Also happy New Year! Ha this took me too long to write. If you wish to see more of me, consider looking at my masterlist.

"As the default 'owner' of the Mansion it makes the most sense for Yuu to help me." Vil's voice has that firm air of finality to it that thunders through the air with the same force as Leona's roar or Malleus's storms. Speaking of Leona, he seems to be frightfully amused by this cute little attempt at imitation, and you have absolutely no desire to see them cat fight.

"Just what help do you need exactly? I'm not really the best choice for an understudy." You try your best to keep any trace of tiredness out of your voice, but you really should know better than to lie to Vil by now. He ignores his argument and cups your face in his hands to get a better look at your skin, pursing his lips ever so slightly to try and avoid a full frown.

"You really need to have more faith in yourself." The scolding is serious but the genuine affection in his gaze as you involuntarily chase his touch as he takes back his hands is real. "And to get more sleep. With enough practice you could be more than worthy, but lucky for us both that's not what I had in mind."

"Awww beta fish already claimed little shrimpy? Laaame." Floyd blows a raspberry and you stick out your tongue when Vil looks away.

"No chasing shromps for you." That cheers him up. You think.

"Stay!" Crewel seems to have regained a bit of his fire. "Ramshackle is Yuu's home, so having them work alongside Schoenheit will allow them to keep an eye on all you puppies and make sure you aren't destroying their living space."

"You have no need to worry yourself over such a thing Professor." Rook cheerfully says.

"Yeah! We're good house guests." Laughs Ortho.

"... Schoenheit perhaps you would like to take Yuu to look over costumes and explain your plans while I have some words with my third and fourteenth reasons?" Vil does not need Crewel to tell him twice.

~~~~

"We aren't planning on using any rooms you or Grim do regularly, though Rook and Floyd did have ideas for the attic." Vil immediately starts talking shop as soon as you leave the classroom. "Guests are going to walk though the house on a marked tour, and I'll be playing host for part of the show."

"A ghost host?" You expect to be reprimanded but Vil winks.

"In my first script the host had an assistant, but Ortho suggested he be placed in charge of screen mapping and projection so we didn't need to make as many adjustments to your dorm." Vil sounds just as proud of Ortho as Idia would be if he was telling the story. It fills your heart with warmth. "Thanks to that suggestion I get to have you stick with me for the rest of the week." And just like that the warmth floods up to your ears, damn that professional training for letting Vil say... things. Yes just things, you are reading into friendly banter too much. The way your breath hitches at the gentle ghost of his touch across your back as he guides you through the door he opens is natural, you just aren't used to Vil's touchiness yet.

"Have you already thought out the costumes?" You remove yourself from his side and try to place some distance between yourself and your feelings by looking over the fist set of clothes Crewel has laid out in this empty classroom, completely missing the brief flicker of disappointment Vil refuses to contain.

"I provided Professor Crewel some concept sketches and my script, but we still have some sizing adjustments to make..." Vil's voice trails off and you turn back in concern. Yet he does not seem distracted at all when you do, he simply proceeds with his thoughts evenly. "I hope you don't mind, but the costume I have in mind for you is raven themed, so you might end up looking a bit like our dear Headmage."

"Oh please no." You groan and Vil laughs.

"Just the bit." He moves to your side, directing your attention towards an admittedly sleek tunic like outfit with a hood and feathers embroidered down the cape. "Go ahead and try it on, I'll wait out here to look it over." As you turn to do just that you find his face close to yours, the typical intensity of his stares and danger of this specific smile suggesting something other than his usual ire. "And make sure to tell me if it's comfortable," he gently tips your chin up to look at him with a slender finger, it's as if he means to kiss you with how he tilts his head "you will be standing next to me for the whole night, I can't have my partner falling down from something as simple as fatigue."

Oh there is no need to worry over that when he is more than able to be the death of you on his own.

~~~~

The better part of your next three weeks is spent practicing the haunt and slowly loosing your sanity. You don't actually have any lines, or much of anything to do other than follow Vil around really, but that meant you had to spend more time around him. More time around those casual touches and compliments that have invaded your friendship since your trip to the underworld, battering your imagination in directions you had long since tried to convince yourself was forbidden. Vil is beautiful, and his confidence of it strangely not off putting to your foolish heart. But Vil had been clear, he was affectionate to all of his friends in private and no amount of skirting the boundary-

though it was all him, if you could only realize how he is trying so desperately to initiate that he is starting to come unglued

-would make your desire for his love anything less than a pipe dream. A dream made substantially worse by how you did know just enough about what one of his kisses would feel like to fantasize about tasting him on your lips. Not that you could see them from your position at the back of the test group, clammy hands fidgeting with the prop lantern you carry, but his slicked back hair and strategically rumpled suit are so ingrained in your dreams at this point you're sure you know what he looks like.

As if you are the only one tortured by fantasies, as if he did not design that cape specifically to see you in it. As if-

"Horntoads and lizards, fiddle and strum. Please answer the role by beating a drum!" Cater's head begins to "levitate" up off the table as he chants in a show of theatrics that's still impressive even if this is the 999th time you've seen it; Ortho's projection mapping coupled with Cater's willingness to improvise had blended into a really unique act. Something a Scarabia freshmen seems to really agree with you because he immediately starts screaming and flailing around in a way that has you deeply concerned for your poor dorm's safety. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, trying to examine the idiot's body language to determine if he was a threat or not. A decision that's made for you as soon as he goes for his magic pen and you note, perhaps too late, that maybe you should make your guests surrender them before going through the haunt.

"Excuse me." You make sure your cowl is lowered as you gently try to tug his hand away from his pocket and are rewarded with an easily dodged slap. "Well now you're just embarrassing both of us."

"Just what do you think it is you are doing foolish mortal." You swear you saw Vil walk forward, but your brain refuses to register his movements as soon as he opens his voice. "It seems you would prefer to take my way out after all." It's silly, being impressed with a professional actor staying in character, but then it must be equally silly to go a bit jelly legged at seeing Vil drawn up to his full height and radiating confidence. The student whimpers and you again reach for his hand, acting the good spirit gently tugging him away from the grip of the damned souls of the mansion.

"C'mon now, no need to be shy." The student lets you lead him away mutely, clearly disappointed in himself.

~~~~

"And I will see you all a little later." Vil bows, disappearing from the group as they flow into the dancers and he immediately drops his practiced face and begins making his way to his next scene. He has faith in you, so he is not surprised to see you waiting, cowl once again up and swinging your lantern to amuse yourself in a manner that would be cute if he wasn't so worried. "Yuu," Vil does not love how forceful his tone is for the way it makes you jump but the emotions running about in his chest keep him from softening it "are you alright?"

"Just peachy." You try a chipper tone but choke as Vil once again reaches to touch you. He cups your face in his hands like it is precious, examines it careful and runs his perfect fingers along your arms to examine your hands in what feels dangerously close to an excuse to hold them. "Dumbass," he purses his lips "sorry, po-ta-to thought Cater had actually lost his head because of Riddle or something. I made sure to hand him over to Crewel and suggested we take the guest's magic pens to make sure if they do freak out no spells get fired off."

"In hindsight that seems like a rather obvious precaution." Vil exhales, letting out the disappointment and intakes a prideful, teasing look to his eyes as he continues to focus on you. You swallow thickly, how many times has he said what he's about to in these past few weeks? "You're doing an excellent job, I knew I picked the right person to partner with." You look down at your hands, Vil still hasn't let them go. It hurts somewhat, more than nearly being slapped.

"You don't have to say things like that just to make me feel better." You cough and Vil frowns.

"I don't give compliments for the sake of ego you know." He lets go of one of your hand to run his thumb over your quivering lip, staring deeply at the tears you had not noticed until he moves to dry them as if he can erase them from time with sheer will alone. "When I say something to you about how grateful I am to have met you, that I admire you, when I say I find things about you to be beautiful and that I want you to stand beside me, I mean every word."

"If you say things like that I'm going to start thinking you mean something different when you call me your partner." You try to joke and for some reason this is what makes him falter.

"... wasn't that obvious?" Vil, beautiful Vil, has a genuinely surprised look on his face. As if he was not the one who had said he was affectionate to his friends specifically... as if he had expected you to notice how much longer he spent kissing you than Rook or Epel and divine his romantic intent from the way his hand sought yours alone. Perhaps he had thought you had more courage than you did, or perhaps, you think to yourself with some relief, there are some things Vil just doesn't quite know how to say because he is so used to having to prove himself worthy of saying them in the first place.

"Are you sure you want this?" You ask because you feel like you have to, but what you are really trying to ask is if you are allowed to want this, to want him.

"Dangerously so." He rests his forehead against yours, a contented sigh worming its way past his lips at the lack of ambiguity in the way your fingers finally thread through his. "I only have so much time left to keep you to myself you know? When the school year ends I'll have to make excuses to more than just a handful of classmates for why I deserve to be alone with you, without sparking any comments." You had considered that of course, let it fuel your doubts and even still now it flickers slightly in your mind.

"I don't want to take the coward's way out." You say and Vil's eyes betray momentary shock. "I don't want to keep ignoring my feelings."

"Then we are in agreement, my dearest partner." Vil draws you impossibly close and presses one kiss to your forehead to his joy and your rancor before he dips you to give the kiss you really want. "I don't think I could ignore you if I tried."

Welcome, foolish mortals, to this haunted taglist: @nothingfuninthislife

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #bleh don't like this one as much as i wanted to #but i want it out