#and maybe try a bit of apathy

[eziojensenthe3rd]

"Everybody's different, nobodys perfect" seems to be one of the most widely accepted yet woefully misunderstood concepts in the world.

#what somebodys transgender? #yeah whatever idgaf #ya'll need to chill #and maybe try a bit of apathy #every now and then

[critterbitter]

re: your thoughts on legendaries (which is very cool and based) what’s your take on the differences between legends:arceus giratina and platinum giratina, especially since you defined them as hating the world? specifically the bit where giratina (at least seemingly) actively defended the world from cyrus trying to destroy it, after trying to do the same thing with volo’s help centuries prior?

Weird ghost worm upon yee (AND MORE ART BELOW CUT!)

Anyways, here’s my mad ramblings about Giratina and Arceus’s backstory.

Tldr: Giratina’s a conglomerate of angry souls scorned by Arceus.

(Here’s the playlist. It’s all about worms.)

How it Started.

The original one has chosen favorites over the passage of time. Heroes, legends, protagonists…

Arceus intervenes for those it loves, and the consequences of a god touching the mortal world is devastating in its entirety. One act of divine intervention causes entire civilizations to collapse. One whispered suggestion drives an entire legacy insane.

So Arceus, paralyzed by its love for the mortal world, acts very little, learning from its mistakes. Apathy soaks through every motion. And thus is the way of the world.

But people love the Originator. Religions are born from Arceus’s rare deeds, and generation on generation taught its benevolence. Imagine spending your entire life chasing after that golden light. Imagine knowing its real and there, and it loves you.

Imagine begging it for help, and seeing it turn away when you need it most.

I think those people would feel very abandoned indeed, if they spent their lives worshipping, and receiving no response at all.

Giratina is born from the abandoned, the lost, and the angry. They’re a hundred thousand souls who’s adoration turned to spite. They’re an entity who demands for Arceus to look at them, so they can finally rest.

Arcues can not look at them in full, because if it does Giratina will fade.

(Scio, beloved. For I can not let you go.)

So the Original One banishes the Unwanted Beast into the distortion world, and Giratina seethes, and starves, and screams.

(Here are two truths about the Beast Between Dimensions—

1. Some part of them still loves Arceus. Arceus is their anchor, after all— the sole reason why they exist, why they are. But Arceus can not love it back in a way that matters, and that hurts.

2. Giratina is made of a thousand voices. Some of these voices remember that there’s a world above. They miss it.)

Why Giratina attacked Hisui in PLA:

PLA Giratina’s not a new god, but they’re very, very bitter and barely coherent on a good day. Volo serves as a conduct to help unite the broiling mass of ghosts against Arceus, and thus Giratina’s hatred overcomes any flickering affections they have for the land.

It doesn’t help that Arceus intervened for Hisui, sending Akari to directly stop Volo from summoning Giratina.

(As for Volo, well.

Imagine being a child who was thrown into the future due to Palkia and Dialga’s fits, who learned his people (his world) no longer exist beyond a shadow in the history books and a single, bitter lore keeper.

Volo doesn’t remember his original culture beyond vague imprints and singing praises to Sinnoh, but he knew he was loved, and he knew his family is dust four hundred years in the past. There’s a special sort of rage in him that echoes Giratinas.)

(Why did you abandon my people, Arceus? What kind of god are you, to leave those who love you so callously behind?)

(Maybe some part of Giratina recognizes Volo, beyond a feeling of kinship.

Maybe some part of Giratina grieves because it recognized the child Volo was.)

When Volo gets his pound of flesh, (when he realizes Arceus is not beholden to him, that the inherent alien morality Arceus holds is not a personal slight), Giratina will finally rest.

Anyways what I’m trying to say is: Arceus is never a person, but a nebulous embodiment of the connection shared between pokemon and humans. It tries to experience what it’s supposed to embody, but millennia of watching people be and cease has given it choice paralysis, apathy, and a hoarding issue. If something lasts forever next to it? Good.

Giratina was once a person. (Correction, a LOT of persons.) They don’t think very linearly either, but they have context on mortal matters and are thus the more benevolent and malicious of the two. One day, time will smooth them into something like Arceus. We can only hope the two keep each other in check.

THE DIFFERENCE OF LEGENDS ARCEUS GIRATINA VS PLATINUM PEARL GIRATINA

If the ancient version of giratina is an angry conglomerate of ghosts scorned by Arceus, the modern iteration of Giratina’s a creature that’s more settled in its skin and more assured in its duties. Giratina still has beef with Arceus, but they unionized into one being who’s love of the mortal world has triumphed over its ancestral grudge. One might even postulate they have shifted their anchor from Sinnoh the god, to Sinnoh the place.

((We call this character developement. Good for you, weird ghost worm!))

(((FULL DISCLOSURE, VOLO BEING FROM THE PAST IS INSPIRED FROM FOXFALL. You know. The fic that got me into this fandom. Please give it some love.)))

#critterbitter screams into the void #pokemon #ask #mailbox #Giratina and arceus #man #might be subject to change but mmm #thinking about how pokemon canonically has ghost moshpit pokemon #looking at spiritomb #and pallosand #ghost pokemon are weird #oops! would you look at that! #chandelure and giratina as foils (they both have anchors who willingly and unwillingly abandon them) #giratina #arceus #pla lore #pla #art #sketchbook #myart #not submas related (but still worth the brainrot) #volo mention #pokemon art #giratina redesign #legendary pokemon

[sy-on-boy]

Real talk: the fact that Anya expects to read Demetrius’ mind but sees nothing is kind of sad because Demetrius saw his 6yo brother approach and congratulate him, and had zero thoughts in his brain. But that doesn’t mean Demetrius doesn’t care about him. When Damian stutters, Demetrius initiates conversation by talking about Damian’s grades, showing that he indeed pays attention.

Demetrius seems almost resentful by Damian’s insistence to impress Donovan, giving out a snarky, passive aggressive, teen appropriate response: “How would I know? It’s not as if I’m in regular contact with him.” This is like the passive aggressive version of whatever is going on with Melinda. Damian is a relatively innocent 6yo kid seeking his father’s approval, but both his mother and his brother appear to be seriously affected (in a bad way) by Donovan, and they avoid talking about Donovan even as Damian repeatedly mentions him. Demetrius doesn’t understand Damian’s desire for their father’s approval. He also doesn’t understand his father, hinting at some sort of disconnect between them.

What also saddens me a bit is how Demetrius barely acknowledged Damian’s friends talking to him. Like, they’re six year old kids trying to make a good impression. Still, Demetrius didn’t completely ignore them, just gave a meaningless “oh” and decided to stop thinking about people. It’s very much giving “stressed (and depressed) to the point of apathy”. When facing the innocence (ignorance?) and optimism of 6yo kids, Demetrius doesn’t understand. (And maybe he doesn’t understand friendship, which is what Damian has?)

I mentioned before that characters Anya met are probably “good” characters on the side of Forgers or at least are sympathetic to readers. Because if Anya met a “bad” character and read their mind, she would be too OP and the plot could be quickly solved. It’s like how we all thought Melinda was suspicious when she met Yor, but then Anya met Melinda and read her mind to reveal that she cares about Damian (even if it’s in a twisted way). Demetrius is interesting because he subverts what I said above by thinking very little, so Anya cannot really read him. But so far, I think his portrayal is that of a typical middle schooler with middle school angst, and he cares about Damian even if he has zero thoughts on his brain (and doesn’t like the way Damian craves fatherly approval). He is still a child and presumably a victim of his father’s parenting.

The framing is also interesting. Damian telling his friends to go on without him while he waits for Demetrius. The panel of Demetrius towering over a stuttering Damian. Demetrius going away, showing a panel of him as a small figure in an otherwise blank background. That panel when Anya thinks Damian’s relatives are weird has her looking at Damian while he’s some distance away from her (and the rest of his friends). The brothers feel disconnected. Damian is both eager and nervous to talk to Demetrius. Demetrius is nonchalant and apathetic, but not impolite or outwardly wholly dismissive.

Given Damian’s wacky family situation, I’m glad he has friends at Eden. Ewen and Emile of course are steadfast and loyal companions, always eager to back up their beloved boss man. Anya can read his mind and she knows about his insecurities (and also his weird family).

Becky is also good as a friend because she doesn’t care about sucking up to Damian, she often calls him out, but she also supports Damian when he deserves it. A sweet scene here is Damian saying he’s a Desmond so he’s expected to get a star, and Becky adding “it’s still a great achievement. Congrats!”. Becky is validating his success and telling Damian it’s okay to be proud and happy for himself. Even though she’s usually judgemental towards Damian, she’s still kind to him because that’s who she is as a character.

In the end, Damian still wants his father’s attention. He had no idea Demetrius wasn’t that close to their father… I would assume Demetrius spent most of his time at Eden and this is Damian’s first year at Eden, so he actually gets to interact with his brother instead of hearing things about him?

So far, Demetrius seems like a very jaded character in contrast to Damian who feels like a beam of sunshine now. He’s the heir so he’s got more troubles. But it’s nice that he’s finally debuted and no longer in mystery. Can’t wait to see what Endo has in store for him :)

#spy x family #this got so long?? #damian desmond #demetrius desmond #becky blackbell #yeah im tagging them #uh #spy x family spoilers #long post #meta #sxf analysis

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ tommy gets jealous | oneshot

♡ fandom; Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003/2006)

♡ characters; Thomas Hewitt

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡cw; mentions of kidnapping and violence, don’t date people who want to slash you irl not a good foundation for a relationship

♡notes; I put on my big boy panties and wrote something other than a bulleted list!!

I just love a good “i trust you but i sure as fuck don’t trust anybody else” type jealously trope. Also some Tommy doing ASL!! We love a (selectively?) mute king.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

You were an oblivious person. Most of the time, anyways. You’d been totally shocked when Luda Mae didn’t let you leave the night you arrived at the Hewitt house, totally shocked when Charlie told you Thomas was obsessed with you, and more surprised still that Charlie had been right.

You weren’t stupid— you put two and two together that these folks were cannibals as soon as you saw the basement. You nearly talked Monty into letting you go, and you slipped your restraints a couple times before you were settled in. You’d done well in school and still could read a book in one sitting.

Maybe… socially inept was a better word, harsh as it sounded. It was only people that you had a such a hard time with. You trusted them, but you could almost never wrap your head around what they were thinking.

Like the customers that stayed too long . It happened a lot. Bikers and tourists and all sorts of folks would stop in when you were working in the convenience store, and usually more than once a day a man would stay leaned on the counter, chatting away until his buddies were about to leave him. Sometimes they’d be alone, and Luda would give you a break early and they’d go off looking all huffy.

It very rarely occurred to you that the men were trying to flirt. You didn’t think of yourself as someone that happened to- and treated all customers the same. Why would they think you wanted to bang em when all you did was smile? Being nice was part of your job.

Luda Mae payed no mind to the men or your conversations. If there’d been any cause for concern, she’d be able to quash it very easily. But she found it endearing, especially your confusion and apathy when they did get balls enough to be blunt . In her mind you were so devoted to Thomas that other men were just nuisances.

That’s why no one had mentioned it to Thomas. He rarely came up to help now that you were there to help Luda Mae, but today there was extra stock, and her joints had been aching from the weather. You were on register, Luda Mae relaxed in a rocker on the porch, and Tommy stalked the aisles and put out trinkets and canned food and all the other junk you sold. You were trying not to go distract him and stood leaned over the counter, doodling on some scrap paper between customers.

“Well hello darlin,” A man drawled, hands on his belt buckle. He was trying too hard to be a real Texan, but he wasn’t from up North like you. “You got any cigarettes back there?”

“Sure do! Let’s see… got Camels, Lucky Strike- I really like these ones, the Salems, they’re menthol-“

“You look too sweet to smoke. I’ll take the Camels,”

“Well, only do it on special occasions,” you shrugged, not paying much attention as Thomas stalked towards the front “Anything else?”

“Well. That depends.”

“On?”

“If you’re free or not tonight.”

You blinked, then furrowed your brow “You tryna ask me out?”

“Well I- oho shit!” The man laughed uncomfortably as he noticed Thomas right behind him “You scared me there big guy-“

He huffed and slunk behind the counter as the man nervously tried to get back on topic “Anyways… ahem…so about that date-?”

You huffed and out a hand on your hip “Well, depends?”

He perked up a bit “On what?”

“If you can beat my boyfriend in a fight.” On cue Thomas wrapped his arms around you from behind, growling as he hooked his chin on your head.

The man quickly turned tail and mumbled something about being out of practice, forgetting the cigarettes completely. You could feel Tommy relax and turned to let him pick you up and set you on the counter. Even then you weren’t eye to eye with the giant of a man…but it was closer, and you liked feeling tiny anyway.

“…hi baby.” You cooed and loosely wrapped your arms around his neck. He huffed and nuzzled you, as he often did as a form of reassurance. You giggled and pecked his mask “Annoying, right?”

He nodded and scowled, keeping his grip tight on your hips

“…what’s wrong?”

He hesitated but pulled back to sign ‘Mine. All mine. Right?’

You giggled again “Of course! All yours- always.”

He smiled softly- the sort of expression only you could coax out of him ‘Always’

#slashers #thomas hewitt #slashers x reader #slashers x you #tcm #thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface #texas chainsaw the beginning #texas chainsaw massacre #luda mae hewitt #thomas brown hewitt

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ APATHY OF THE CHIEF JUSTICE — NEUVILLETTE.

contents. archon quest spoilers, liddol weepy dragon neuvillette :(, established relationships, reverse comfort, lots of kissies 4 him, it’s a bit self indulgent my bad but he’s just a sensitive lil friendly guy who tries his best he makes me sad :(, maybe ooc idrk how to write him yet

it starts raining out of nowhere on a sunny day, hard. you frown—you know exactly what this means, walking up to neuvillette’s office in concern.

“good afternoon, sedene,” you smile, patting the melusine on the head. she leans into your touch happily, content with the small show of affection.

“good afternoon. if you’re here to visit the chief justice, i have to warn you. today, he seems…” sedene trails off, unsure how to finish, and you hum knowingly as you nod.

“i see,” you murmur, “i’ll see if i can help.” you turn and knock on the office door—it’s silent for a moment before you call, “it’s me.”

you hear some shuffling before neuvillette finally answers. it’s a quiet, “come in,” and nothing more. you sigh before entering—that can’t be a good sign.

neuvillette looks…well, devastated. with red rimmed eyes and a slightly pink nose, his cheeks trailed with delicate tears that break your heart. you walk over, cupping his cheek and brushing away a stray tear with your thumb as he closes his eyes.

“what’s got you so upset,” you murmur, “the weather has taken a rather drastic turn, wouldn’t you say?”

he sniffles, the poor thing—it’s as precious as it is heartbreaking. “i believe…i believe i may have made a mistake,” he mumbles, “a terrible one, in fact.”

“oh?” you raise a brow, leaning down and brushing your lips against his forehead soothingly, “i’m sure you’ve done your best, neuvillette.”

“no,” his voice breaks, a fresh round of tears falling past his lash line and staining his skin. you furrow your brows, cupping both sides of his face as your forehead presses to his, “no, i didn’t…i didn’t do what i should have. in fact, i did nothing at all.”

“i’m sure that’s not true,” you reason, “you always do what you can.”

“i could’ve stopped the duel,” he shakes his head, and instantly you know what must be on his mind. “i thought…i thought i understood but i didn’t. i still don’t.”

neuvillette doesn’t understand humans as well as he hopes—it’s changed a bit since you’ve shown up, but their emotions are far too complicated for him sometimes. you help him, sometimes—you try to show him they’re not much different from him, but he’s learning slowly on his own.

you nod slowly at his words, as if you understand, before pressing soft kisses along his face. you scatter them along his cheeks, over the tip of his nose, just at the corners of his mouth and right on the center of his forehead.

he sniffles again, miserably.

“oh, love,” you murmur gently—callas has always been a complicated topic, one you’ve carefully treaded since it’s happened. his lips wobble, and you pull him into you, letting his head rest against your chest as you sit on the armrest of his chair. “callas wasn’t your fault,” you whisper, “none of us could’ve known.”

“i believed he was guilty,” he confesses, “otherwise, why duel? i…i didn’t think he would do it for…”

“and you weren’t alone in your assumptions,” you reason. that doesn’t seem to make him feel any better—in fact, you feel your shirt dampen, and the rain hits the glass of his window harder.

“but i am the chief justice,” he insists, “how i can be so if i let innocent men throw away their lives?”

you’re silent for a bit—it’s difficult to give him an answer. it’s difficult to offer him any solace over something like this. but you do know it’s not his fault—and soon enough, you hope he’ll accept that too.

but until then, you thread your fingers into his hair as you press a chaste kiss to the crown of his head.

“being the chief justice doesn’t mean you have all the answers,” you say quietly, catching a tear as it slips down his cheek with your thumb, “you won’t have all the answers. but you’ll do your best to find them. i think that’s enough.”

“lady navia yelled at me,” he tells you. you want to chuckle a little at the way he says it, like child who’s been scolded—but now is not the time, not when he’s so upset. “a few days ago. because i did not stop it. she…she was right—”

“lady navia is grief stricken,” you interrupt, “you have to understand. she didn’t mean—”

“but i could’ve stopped it—”

“anyone could’ve, neuvillette,” you insist, “lady furina, or even clorinde. but no one knew, and that’s okay. it’s how callas wanted it, i’m afraid.”

he’s silent for a bit, weighs your words as he presses against your chest further, let’s your fingers trail through his hair and stroke along his cheek for a bit.

it rains in fontaine—whenever there is something to mourn, it rains. perhaps the people can know this way that they are not alone in their grief, that there is always something, someone to share the burden of pain with them.

“i’ll visit,” he mumbles after some time, “to pay my respects to mister callas.”

“i think that’s a lovely idea,” you smile, poking the tip of his nose and pulling the tiniest of smiles from him, “would you like me to come?”

“no, i think i should do it alone,” he says thoughtfully, “but thank you.”

you feel his hand grab yours, his fingers lacing with yours as he gives it a small squeeze—perhaps he still has a long way to go to understand humans and their complex emotion. but this one, he thinks he understands well enough.

he loves you, just as much as you love him—it’s simple enough to understand.

my lil cinnamon roll :( my emotional liddol weepy dragon :(

#teepods.writings #drabbles. #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff

[atrueneutral]

Bath, Bed & Beyond - Raphael x Tav

After weeks of constant battles and near-death-experiences, it was a slap in the face that the Crown of Karsus ended up in the Chionthar.

It could have fallen anywhere else but in the river.

It could have been easy.

Had it landed on the docks, Tav would have plucked it from the ground like any other item she pilfered. She’d have put it in her pack and would have promptly gone off to deliver the all-powerful Netherese artifact to Raphael - satisfying the terms of her contract.

But no! Nothing was ever as easy as it could have been; it wasn’t easy convincing Rolan to spend time on the docks casting spells on her and supplying her with potions; it wasn’t easy deep diving into the murky river waters for days on end; and it certainly wasn’t easy finding the godsdamn Crown of Karsus!

Bloody thing was a pain in her ass…

She should have listened to her friends, and she shouldn’t have made a deal with a devil…

Much to Rolan’s chagrin, Raphael had shown a number of times over the course of her search. He, apparently, “wanted to see how she was faring”, and, according to the wizard, seemed to find amusement in her desperation of trying to find the object that would see him rule the Hells.

One night, after failing to find her missing treasure, Tav wondered out loud why Raphael didn’t help her; it didn’t make sense that he’d prolong his ambitions after all of the salivating he did whenever he spoke of the Crown. 

Rolan suggested maybe there was a secret time limit buried in the nooks and crannies of her contract. Maybe Raphael wanted her to fail because he wanted her soul.

“He’s waited this long, I’m sure he can afford to wait a bit longer to ensure he gets both you and the Crown of Karsus. He’s a devil - are you really so surprised that he’d desire to keep you as well?”

To that, she called Rolan crazy, but Tav searched harder in the days that followed (out of fear that she was racing an invisible clock), and she eventually found what she was looking for.

—

Tav entered the Devil’s Den without knocking. She cared not that it was rude. She cared little about anything outside of fulfilling her contract, taking a bath, and sleeping for a very, very long time. Fatigue wreaked havoc on her body after recent events and days of stressful swimming, and the too long of a walk that brought her to Rivington drained her to the brink of wanting to fall over.

She ambled into the suite, and Raphael’s mortal visage made a face at her appearance - namely her water-logged countenance of damp hair and damp clothes that reeked of river water.

She hoped her exhaustion came off as apathy.

“Your message stated you had something specific for me?” he asked.

He was referencing the message she sent with a Scroll of Sending roughly an hour and a half ago. With it, she said: “I have your stupid Crown. Where should I meet you? Are you coming to the docks? Please come to the docks.”

Panting had, unfortunately, been included in-between some of her words.

Tav blinked, and her eyes went from staring longingly at the steaming bath littered with flower petals to the cambion who appraised her with a raised brow.

“I do,” she answered, and Tav reached into her pack for the Crown. She crossed over to him, revealed the artifact, and Raphael’s mask of composure cracked. 

Ambition bled from the fissures - his dreams would not remain dreams much longer…

With the current most important dream realized, a shaky breath left Raphael as he accepted and held the Crown in his hand. Tav rummaged around for the Netherstones, and she placed them on a nearby desk when it became clear that Raphael was having a moment between himself and his new shiny and dangerous toy.

She glanced down to see if he had an erection, and sure enough, a bulge was forming from inside his pants.

“Raphael?” she prompted.

“Hm?”

The Crown and fantasies of grandeur had successfully enthralled him.

“Is my contract fulfilled?”

“Yes.”

When he did not procure said contract, Tav sighed.

“Can I trust that you’ll see to completing my contract… when you’re done?”

“Mm, yes.”

Rolan was wrong; he did not want her or her soul. Raphael’s interest in his little mouse was purely in being a delivery tool for his precious artifact, and Tav found herself feeling oddly crestfallen at the verdict. It was nothing more than devilish amusement (or a form of punishment) that kept him from helping her fetch the Crown from the Chionthar.

“Great, thank you. Goodbye, Raphael.”

She turned and took a step for the door.

“Leaving so soon, Little Mouse?”

The rich purr of his voice stilled her.

“The delivery has been made, and you are preoccupied,” she answered, facing him again.

“Pardon my momentary lapse - I assure you it won’t happen again.” As if to make a point, he went to where the Netherstones were gathered and placed the Crown beside them. He leaned against the desk, blocking the artifact’s view from him and her. “Thank you for bringing me the Crown. I knew you wouldn’t fail - just as you knew failure wasn’t an option. You must regale me what the depths of the Chionthar look like sometime over dinner. The smell of the river, however, I could do without.”

Understanding his insinuation that she smelled, she gave him a thin lipped smile. “Then I shall be on my way...”

“You misunderstand, my dear!” Raphael gestured theatrically for the bath, and his features became predatory. “Stay awhile, won’t you? I will fulfill your contract before your very eyes, and you will sleep soundly tonight knowing you made the right choice in bargaining with a devil.”

The bath did look inviting…

“If you’d like, you have my permission to rest your weary head in this room,” he continued. “The bed is quite cozy - not nearly as comfortable as the bed in my House of Hope, but you know that already, don’t you?”

Tav’s blood went cold at his mention of her uninvited visit.

“Sorry about that…” she offered sheepishly, meaning it. Haarlep’s use of her body had become a nuisance, yet it often aroused her to think it was Raphael who benefitted and used the unintentional gift she left behind.

Based on the look in his eyes, he did.

Snap!

A contract materialized from within a plume of smoke and embers, and the infernal words etched into the parchment glowed. At Raphael’s behest and a wave of his hand, a new emblem-like symbol was magically inscribed before the parchment went up in flames.

“It’s been an Absolute pleasure doing business with you, Little Mouse.”

Oh no - his stare was making her feel warm in places.

Maybe Rolan was right in some regard.

Maybe Raphael did want her.

“Likewise,” Tav responded. “And I appreciate you loaning me the room.”

She waited for him to leave.

She expected him to leave.

Oh no.

He wasn’t leaving.

“Aren’t you leaving?” she questioned, intending on taking advantage of his offer to stay and use the room’s bath and bed.

“Leave? And miss the sight of you bathing? I think not.”

She flushed. 

“Ah.” Tav peered at the bath, then back at Raphael. “You’re not planning on joining me are you?”

He smiled devilishly. “Would you like me to?”

Yes.

“No, that’s alright.” Tav went to the bath and began to shed her pack and gear. When it came time to remove her boots, she decided to test the waters by turning the act of undressing into a show. She sat upon the bath’s edge and, with deliberate slowness, gracefully peeled away her footwear. “Are the flower petals your idea or are they an added flourish from the staff?”

“Do you like them?”

“I do.”

“They are my personal touch - just for you.”

The expression she threw at him while she undressed was filled with skepticism.

“You can stop trying to charm me, Raphael. The contract is done, you got what you wanted, and I’m in the middle of taking my clothes off.” Somewhere along the way her voice became decidedly more… seductive. “I wouldn’t normally allow you to watch the latter, but it’s conjecture to think that you’ve already seen me naked.”

It was thrilling to see that she enthralled him just as much as the Crown of Karsus. He was silent, his eyes blazing as he watched her stand and push her breeches down. Tav’s thumbs next hooked into the top of her panties and she slowly, teasingly, shimmied the undergarment past her thighs. They pooled at her feet, and she stepped out of them and her breeches, pushing both aside to be with the rest of her stripped attire.

He could not yet see her sex, as it was hidden by her tunic, but the shirt was soon gracefully pulled over her head and thrown onto the pile.

Raphael visibly swallowed.

Tav reached around to undo the fastenings of her brasserie. The undergarment went slack, and she quickly held the front to her with a hand before it could fall away.

She turned to face the bathwater and discarded the top with a flick of the wrist. 

The cambion let out a low hum. Whether in approval of seeing her bare backside or in disapproval or not seeing her nude state in its entirety, she couldn’t tell.

“Was this your plan?” Tav asked innocently as she bravely stepped into the steaming water. It was hot - excessively hot, but after waging and winning a war against a Netherbrain, after spending too long in the cold Chionthar, and after completing a deal with a devil…

It was heaven.

“What plan are you speaking of, my dear? I have many.”

Tav waded to the center of the bath, water rippling up to her thighs. She glanced at the cambion from over her shoulder with a smirk, and then rotated to give him a full-frontal view.

A deep-rooted hunger befell Raphael, and Tav mentally marked a point under her name: where the Crown failed in fully arousing him, she succeeded.

“When I sent my message to you, you sounded insistent on meeting here and advised that I shouldn’t tarry. You could have come to the docks, which, by the sound of things, you were fond of doing.” Tav lowered into the water while wincing and biting her lip at the temperature. “I was going to accuse you of wanting me smelly and exhausted so you could easily persuade me to take a bath as you watched, but, now that I’m thinking about it, I do recall there being a full bath and a smattering of flower petals when I initially met you here and signed the contract. Who was the bath for then? Voss? My companions and I?”

“I was merely setting the scene for my most important client of the day! I would never go to such efforts for Voss, nor your companions - nor for any other mortal whose name is but a tiny drop in the ocean of souls I’ve collected. It was all for you, Little Mouse.” Raphael crept towards the bath - a predator moving in on his prey. “Today I wished again to set the scene - with a reward. Now that you are without your troublesome friends and an even more troublesome tadpole, you can relax and enjoy without impediment! Soak, my dear! Soak and be content in your hard-earned and well-deserved bath, then off to bed with you…”

Tav reached for a fresh bar of soap that smelled distinctly like cherries and she ran it across her chest after wetting it. She batted eyelashes that suddenly felt heavy due to the talk of bed.

“Are you going to tuck me in, Raphael?”

His chuckle was downright sinful.

“Yes, I’ll even read you a bedtime story.”

“Oh?” Tav languidly rubbed aromatic suds into her skin. “What’s the story about?”

His eyes followed her hands.

“A fox who secured all that he wanted.”

Tav smiled and she briefly submerged herself.

“Did the fox secure the woods?” she asked after breaking through the water’s surface.

“He did, and the neighboring woods.”

She placed the bar of soap back onto the edge, and Tav scratched at her scalp and combed fingers through her hair.

“I presume he secured the animals inside of the woods as well?”

“Every single one.”

She made a point to stare into brown, dilated eyes.

“Including the mouse?”

“You’re going to spoil the story for yourself…”

It was at that moment that a yawn formed in her throat. She did her best to ignore the symptom of drowsiness (things were becoming interesting), but the yawn was persistent enough to force an escape. Tav covered what she could, but it was the kind of yawn that made her eyes water. When she blearily looked at the cambion, the desire on his face had been replaced with warm humor.

“I was wondering how long you would be able to keep your guise up,” he remarked.

Another smaller and shorter yawn broke through.

“Finish up,” Raphael ordered, and he walked away - disappearing to the other half of the room.

Tav complied. She rinsed out her hair, finished scrubbing in all the necessary places, and by the time she was done, Raphael had returned. He held out a plush red towel for her to take when she moseyed to the bath’s edge and climbed out.

“Thanks,” Tav said, fighting back what could possibly be an endless string of yawns. The towel was soft and thick, smelled like Raphael, and she made a note to steal it in the morning as she wrung out her hair and dried herself off.

“I won’t miss it,” Raphael said knowingly.

“How - I don’t steal everything, you know,” she scoffed.

“I am aware.”

Tav made a new mental note - to not steal the towel in the morning.

Sufficiently dried, she cheekily dropped the towel to the floor and peered at a bed that had been prepped for sleeping.

The urge to sprint and throw herself into the covers was extinguished when she was unexpectedly scooped up by arms and swept off her feet.

“This is becoming ridiculous,” Tav muttered. Despite her tone, and against her better judgment, she foolishly liked the feeling of being held by the cambion - the feeling of his hands on her...

“Did you not ask to be tucked in?” Raphael retorted, carrying her naked body up the couple steps that led to the bedroom portion of the suite.

She was too tired to think of a witty comeback, so Tav stayed silent while Raphael transferred her over to the bed.

“What do you normally sleep in, Little Mouse?”

Usually just her smallclothes.

Tav glanced up at him. “I sleep naked, of course.”

His eyes flared, and she could read that he wanted to do far more than simply tuck her in.

He gently laid her upon the satin bedding. A fluffy pillow was beneath her head, and the sheets were smooth against her skin. Raphael reached over to draw the top sheet and comforter over her, and Tav was enveloped by heavenly, toasty warmth.

“Would it be possible to have the room for the next day or two?” she murmured, making herself snug under the covers.

Her eyes closed as the fox smiled brightly.

“Oh, my Little Mouse, stay as long as you’d-”

And she was out.

#this started out as a prompt fill but turned into something else #womp womp #bg3 #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael x tav fanfiction #baldur’s gate 3 #my writing #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

[avocado-writing]

If you’re still open for prompts, can we get Tav to bring Astarion for shopping, claiming she has no fashion sense, but in truth it’s to make him buy something for himself?

I don’t know if you’ve seen the free cam screenshots, but the inside of Astarion’s test is bleak and messy, and in the lower city camp he’s hanging filthy rags to dry above his tent, like he’s so used to only focusing on his outerwear that he forgot he can actually get himself some nice towels and bedding for personal use.

notes: what a sweet request! i get so many lovely requests for astarion and it's what he deserves tbh.

words: <1k

rating: T

“I’m not sure why you need me to come with you. Apart from because you’re in need of my stellar company, of course,” Astarion sniffs.

“Well, you have the best taste in camp, and I trust you with this sort of thing. Besides, what were you really planning on doing today apart from irritating Gale?”

Astarion makes a show of putting in a bookmark and slamming his novel closed, looking up properly at where you’ve wandered over to him. He pretends to be a bit irked, but he wasn’t really paying attention to the words in front of him anyway - he was too busy sneaking glances up at you as you helped out around the camp. It’s something he’s been doing a lot recently. His eyes are drawn to you. He is drawn to you. Magnetised. 

But that is far too raw-hearted and personal for you to know, so he’s desperately trying to hide his weakness for you beneath a layer of palette-knifed-on apathy. He suspects it isn’t working.

“Come on,” you continue, your pleading too sweet to be ignored, “it won’t take long. I just need to get a couple of bits for my tent, you know, to spruce it up. Please?”

Astarion groans. Secretly, he doesn’t mind. He’d quite enjoy it, actually. But if you know that then you suddenly have power over him, and the idea of letting someone have power over him again, even if it’s you, scares the unlife out of him.

Still, though. When your eyes are buttery-soft and there’s that furrow in your brow which comes with your sincere confusion, he feels his walls being shattered.

“Fine,” he groans, dramatically, “I suppose you do need some help picking out nice things. Let’s head off, then.”

He tries to ignore the way that his heart does a silly little leap when you light up at the idea.

And so, Astarion lets you drag him into Baldur’s Gate. He is once again overwhelmed with how much he missed the city - not during the times with Cazador, of course, but back in his youth, when he was able to stroll about and shop like this under his own free will. When he had a magistrate’s salary and a healthy portion of it could go on things like this, frivolous and fine things. Maybe he is a little bitter at first as you take him store-to-store, but he soon finds himself relaxing into the joy of a spree; when your hand tangles with his he lets you lead him around, quietly revelling in your delight as you leaf through linens and silks.

Your day together becomes a chorus of, “this one or this one?” holding up bedsheets for him to help you decide between, letting him make a lengthy decision as he tests threadcounts against his alabaster fingers. He helps you pick blankets, new soft towels for when you’re able to bathe (a luxury at the moment, but still…) some sweet-scented candles and incense for your tent to cover the smell of dirt caked into you all. 

He suggests lavender. It’s his favourite.

At the end of the day he watches you count out gold onto the final merchant’s counter before taking a heavy woven tote full of your purchases. It feels like a satisfying venture has been had, but he still feels a bit hollow - after all, your hands are full, and his are achingly empty. 

You stop when you clear the doorway back onto the street, and hold the bags to him.

“What? I’m not carrying your things for you. I’m not Karlach!” he says, appalled. You roll your eyes at him.

“I’m not making you my pack mule, Astarion. I doubt you could be - ” he’s about to interject and bite back at that little jab, but you barrel on regardless, “ - they’re a gift. This is all for you.”

He freezes. Blinks. Eyes drop down to the shopping as if it’s a Mimic, waiting for him to let his guard down so that it can eat his arm.

“All for me?”

You nod, and when he doesn’t move to take the handles, you gently open up his fingers like the petals of a flower and deposit them into his palm instead. 

He feels the weight of the new things. Of his new things. He doesn’t know how to respond. His brain feels blank.

“I have money, you know,” he says, partly defending himself against your kindness, and partly against the idea that you might think he’s in need of charity. You sigh and cross your arms, a sure sign of not taking any of his nonsense right now.

“I know, and I am perfectly capable of giving you a gift because I think you deserve one. There is no trick here, Astarion. I just thought you should have a couple of new bits because you barely buy them for yourself. You’re allowed to have nice things, you know.”

Ah. That hurts him a bit, not because you’re being unkind, but because maybe you’re being truthful. His hands became used to a needle and thread by candlelight, to tiny neat stitches done with such precision it was difficult to notice that anything he mended was ever damaged at all. But he does not live that life any more. He can open himself to the possibility of being pampered again.

He likes that idea.

He retracts his arms, clutching the shopping to his body, as if he’s afraid that you’ll change your mind. You smile at him so brightly that he feels as if you are the sun.

“...Thank you,” he manages, eventually.

“Any time,” you say, and he knows you mean that.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget @hopeful-n-sad

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #request #my writing

[trulyhblue]

If you write for her, I will not be opposed to a Kerstin Casparij one because I have the biggest fattest crush on her. Maybe a fan keeps showing up in the fanzone (an area of the Joie stadium where a selected few are allowed to meet the players, but it's random each time and should make it so its different every time so everyone gets a go.) And nobody knows why she's there or how she keeps getting chosen but the players find it funny and make sure to get round to her every time. But Kerstin always spends a particularly long amount of time with her, until it's revealed that she's pulling strings and getting the girl in every time just so she can see her. (You can either do it where she does it because she likes her or because they're dating, it works with both and I'm not sure which one I want more.)

Charmer

Kerstin Casparji x Reader, Lauren Hemp x Platonic! Reader, Esme Morgan x Platonic! Reader, Man City WT x Reader.

Warnings: fluff, coarse language, established secret relationship

A/N — Thank you for this request!! Love it so much. Will definitely write more for Kerstin if anyone is willing to send in some requests!!!!!

__________________

You had met Kerstin in a bakery down the road from your house. When you first saw each other, the woman nearly tripped over her own feet. You were surprised by the shock on her face like she was starstruck by being in a metre of your presence. You gave her a friendly smile, hoping your open ambiguity would keep things humble.

It was during your final exams, the ones where you needed to pass so that you could continue your degree. You were very passionate about what you did, and sitting down in a quiet coffee shop with your headphones on and books open was your idea of being productive.

Kerstin, on the other hand, had the impression that you didn't want to talk to her.

Which, well, to be honest, you were in the middle of studying, but you gave no clear indication of what she thought you were thinking.

Instead of going about her day — she should've been at training twelve minutes ago, but it was only media day so they could wait — she slowly sauntered closer to where you sat, pretending to be interested in the decorative flowers that embellished the cafe. You watched her out of the corner of your eye, smiling at her piss-poor attempt in remaining discreet.

You were dressed in very basic clothing, similar to hers save for the Manchester symbol embedded on her jumper. Only one ear was covered by your headphones, meaning that Kerstin would be heard loud and clear if she plucked up the courage to speak to you — which she was trying to do now. She thought you were the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen, and she was surrounded by women almost every single day of her life. You looked extremely immersed in what you were doing, which should of been an indicator of apathy but it only lured Kerstin in more.

She wanted to know everything about you. Your name, you favourite colour, what you did, what you loved, who you loved—

It sounded a bit creepy, so she shook off her thoughts and focused deeply on the flowers. The woman was staring at her screen distantly, aimlessly typing away on the keyboard with a mug by her side.

When she realised you had caught her staring, she buried and swallowed down her pride. “They are nice flowers, don't you think?” She asked, her cheeks burning a vibrant red as if she had just run a marathon. You noticed her accent, one that wasn't accustomed to Manchester, and nodded like you cared about the topic.

“Yes, but I think they are fake.” You replied, smiling wider as the woman’s flustered state only grew in size when she caught sight of the very fake-looking plants.

“Oh.” She gulped, shoving her hands into her pockets. She's so stupid, she thought to herself, she’d blown her chance of even talking to this gorgeous stranger by talking about some stupid, fake plants.

You wondered whether the woman would continue the conversation she started, but the silence that followed was a pretty good indicator that she was audibly stumped on what to say.

“They are pretty, though.”

“Like you,” Kerstin spoke without thinking and instantly regretted it. She slapped her hand across her mouth, nearly walking out of the coffee shop, packing her bags and moving back to the Netherlands. “Fuck, sorry. That just— erm, came out. Sorry.”

You took off your headphones, pretending to act offended, raising your eyebrows and sighing. “You don't mean it?”

“What— no, no, you are so pretty. Like, beautiful, gorgeous. That's why I'm here. Well— yeah, I saw and thought you were pretty. I didn't mean it like that. You're probably smart, too, but— erm, yeah.”

The look of remorse almost made you feel bad, but your amusement — and somewhat endearment — overturned your hesitancy.

Instead, you laughed, took a sip of your drink and smiled, hoping it would calm the woman’s nerves.

“You worry too much.” You said, moving across the booth you were sitting on, offering the space beside you for her to sit down. She did so without delay. “I'm not someone you should waste your worry on.”

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” Kerstin answered wholeheartedly, pleased when she noticed the blush that dusted your cheeks. “I would rather worry about you than anything else for the rest of my life.”

You laughed, crossing your arms over your chest. “You don't even know me.”

With a push of confidence, Kerstin wrapped an arm over the back of the booth, scarcely missing your shoulder. “If you’d let me, I’d like to.”

“Charmer.”

It was from there that you and Kristen started to hang out.

Seven months had passed, and you were now completely and utterly in love with the woman. Kerstin was an externally affectionate person despite her introverted persona. She loved showering you with compliments, giving you everything you needed at exactly the right time with just the right amount of love and devotion.

You found out she was a football player pretty early on in your relationship due to the tight and busy schedule the girl had, including her diet, exercise, and all of that. You weren't a massive football fan, but going to your first game a week into knowing Kerstin made it seem to find a way into your heart.

Your girlfriend wasn't the only one to give compliments. You had your fair share in making sure the Dutch woman knew how much you were enamoured with everything she did. It took you a while to get used to her career and the publicity that came with it, but you found pleasure in knowing that once you got back to your shared apartment you could tell and show her just how much she made you feel so so proud.

It was in mutual agreeance that you both wanted to keep your relationship under wraps. Your feelings for one another and how you cared for each other were one of the highest concerns in your relationship, and by keeping your love between yourselves, you've found that it worked better overall. You didn't want to indulge in a media presence, and Kerstin respected that.

Kerstin was fine with putting herself out onto social media, but when it came to you, she wanted to make sure you were comfortable at all times.

Because of this, you both came to the decision that at games, you wouldn't sit within the family and friends section, and instead, in the crowd with the fans.

You were among the group of fans that were guaranteed to meet the players after the match, whether it be cause they paid more or if they were chosen randomly by officials. For many weeks, people just assumed that they were lucky or could just afford to pay the extra money to be seated in the same section. Both you and Kerstin found it amusing when fans would wonder why you were always the first one to be greeted, or why you knew her.

After a month of this recurring theme, some of Kerstin’s teammates started to notice.

Surprisingly, Lauren, who wasn't the most observant, caught sight of it first.

“Do you know her?” She asked Kerstin after a game against Everton, watching the Dutchie make eye contact with you from where they were signing shirts.

Kerstin looked at Hempo, a blush running across the bridge of her nose.

Shrugging, she thanked the last fan, handing back the pen. “She's a friend of mine.”

Lauren’s eyebrows furrowed. “Then why isn't she in the friends and family section?”

When Kerstin didn't instantly reply, silenced by the prodding questions she was receiving, a distant idea clicked in Lauren’s mind.

“She's your girlfriend?” She sounded, obviously a little too loudly since the Dutch international nudged her warningly.

“Alright, nosey, keep your voice down.” She snapped, pulling the girl away from the crowd. “You can't tell anyone, alright. It's still pretty new.”

Lauren’s eyes widened in alarm, not exactly thrilled with the commitment of keeping a secret. “Does Jill know?”

“Why would Jill know?”

“I don't know, I didn't think I’d be the first person to find out,” Hempo replied, looking back at you. “Can I tell someone?”

Kerstin’s eyebrows furrowed. “I just said you can't.”

“Yes, I know, but I'm terrible at keeping secrets,” Lauren whined. “Please, let me tell Jill, at least.”

“No, because Jill will tell Viv and Viv will tell Beth, and Beth will tell literally everyone.” She quipped, only half-heartedly digging at the Arsenal girls. She watched Hemp sigh like a child, looking down as if the burden of her knowing was too much. “You can tell Esme but that's it.”

That was how the first people found out about you and Kerstin. When she told you that night, you weren't necessarily fazed. It was bound to come out at some point, and you’d rather Kerstin’s teammates find out from her than the internet.

Unfortunately, though, the rest of the girls weren't afforded the same luxury as Esme and Lauren.

All of the girls at Man City couldn't believe their eyes when they found out Kerstin was in love.

Well, to be fair, they weren't quite certain this was true. Lauren and Esme saw it first at the next game against West Ham, watching their teammate smile cheekily at the girl in the stands when she should've been stretching.

Sandy mentioned the Dutch International’s love-sick countenance to some of their teammates over lunch a few weeks later, promoting Hempo and Es to spill their not-so-long-kept confession.

None of the girls knew who Kerstin was talking to — or even if their suspicions were acclimated, but Sandy, Esme, and Lauren all made it their mission to keep their lips closed.

Sandy was the one to come up with the pact, yet the demanding eyes of Roebuck after an endurance training session set her tongue loose.

Lauren wasn't at all happy. Esme ended up spilling the secret to Mary as well, meaning the secret was already spreading across the team.

Meanwhile, fans were growing more and more suspicious of you and how you managed to steal the attention of Kerstin after each and every game.

The media surrounding you two got so big that Kerstin’s national teammate Viv called her one day asking what was going on.

Kerstin knew Lauren and Esme had told at least half the team by then, including Jill, who had run up to you after a game and pretended to flirt with you just to annoy her teammate. Viv was quick to point out that if she wanted to keep your relationship private, putting you in the midst of cameras and media attention wasn't the most suitable option.

You ended up deciding that if you were to stay in the crowd, both of you needed to be willing to make your relationship more public.

It had been seven months of concealing your obvious love for one another. Pretty much the whole team knew about you, and it only took fans a quick video of the two of you looking at each other to piece the clues together. You were both mature enough to keep your private lives private and social lives up to your discretion.

You made the decision to share very minimal parts of your lives together without spelling it out. This meant that you could hug your girlfriend for that little while longer in front of everyone. You could kiss her and not look around to see if anyone was looking. You could tell yourself that Kerstin was yours and you were hers.

But you didn't need public knowledge to make you feel loved by her.

__________________________

kerstincasparji

kerstincasparji — bit of a charmer ✨

Comments:

user11 — UM THE SOFT LAUNCH ARE YOU KIDDING???

viviannemiedema — ❤️

laurenhemp — love that bakery

*liked by kerstincasparji and yourusername

esmemorgan — busy girls

^ wosofan — SHE KNOWS

maryfowler — 🐐

user23 — is she dating the fan??

^ manchestergirl — if you mean the girl in the stand then yeah I think so

^ user2 — “THE girl IN THE STANDS” AHAHAHHAA

jillroord — ew cooties

^ viviannemiedema — shush

^ jillroord — no 😍

user7 — why does she sit in the stands and not in the family and friends section

^ laurenhemp — that's what I said 🫢

yourusername — charmer, huh?

^ kerstincasparji — idk, some pretty girl called me it

^ yourusername — didn't you call her beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, talented, incredible, out of this world

^ kerstincaslarji — she likes to think so.

^ user12 — IS THIS HER??????

^ arsenalwosoxx — THEY HIT THE PENTAGON

________________________

#kerstin casparij #kerstin casparij x reader #manchester city #man city #woso x reader #alanna kennedy #mary fowler #lauren hemp #laura coombs #bunny shaw #woso fluff #woso community #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso smut #woso soccer #woso couples #woso #woso blurbs #esme morgan #lauren hemp x reader

[theminecraftbee]

“So, Martyn. You’re the person here I can ask about this, sure. You still seem sane.”

Martyn snorts. “Sane’s a relative term, Scott, but sure. Ask whatever it is you’re asking. We’re at least pals, right?”

“Right,” Scott says, and doesn’t say anything for a while.

Their base smells like seawater and dead fish. Martyn’s not sure if the dead fish are actually dying fish or like, the two of them, and isn’t about to try to figure it out. The fact Scott’s been turning into a fish is freaking Martyn out enough already.

“Sorry,” Scott says. “Just realized I’m not sure I want to ask this one.”

“Fair enough. Lotta things out here I don’t want to know the answers to.”

“You? Really?”

Martyn pauses. Our will be done.

“…I mean. A few.”

“Hm.”

“Shit’s weird, man.”

“True, true. As you said. Shit’s weird.”

“Sounds weird coming from you.”

“Eh. I mean, we’re used to it.”

The waves crash against their base. Martyn dips his toes in the water. It used to feel cold.

“That’s the question, really,” Scott says. “When did we all become so… apathetic?”

“Lotta explosions for apathy,” Martyn says after a moment. “Lotta… fire and brimstone and dramatic speeches, for apathy.”

“Yeah, but like. I don’t know. How many times have you died?”

“That’s easy, it’s—”

Martyn stops.

“How many people have you killed?”

“If you gave me time to—”

“Why are we all still just… playing around?” Scott says. “If I died tomorrow, would you care? Would I care? Or would it just be one more moment in a chaotic mess of… apathy doesn’t have to mean boring, it’s just…”

“Not caring,” Martyn finishes.

“Etho blew up Scar and Bdubs earlier and we just laughed and moved on,” Scott says.

“I mean…”

Our will be done.

“I mean. Is it better if we don’t?”

They’re both quiet again for a bit. Light reflects in flecks off of Scott and the waves.

“We didn’t used to,” Scott says, very quietly. He plays with a ring on his finger. Martyn is suddenly quite cold. He shivers and looks out over the sky. It’s summer. An oppressive heat sinks over the sky. Still, he’s cold, like winter is—

“Ah. I think I get what you mean,” Martyn says, finally. “If it makes you feel better, when you—”

“Yeah. Okay. You’re right. I know,” Scott says. “It’s a stupid question.”

“Nah,” Martyn says. “Nah. You can ask. I don’t know, man. Maybe this isn’t apathy, really. If you died, I’d care. I’d care.”

Scott stands up. “You know, the funniest part is that I have no clue if you’re lying.”

Before Martyn can ask anything else, Scott dives into the water. “I’m catching some fish,” Scott says.

“Yeah, sure. Save me some, fish man.”

He’s gone. Martyn watches after him. Apathy. Hah. Funny way to describe it, but.

He turns to the sky. “He’s not wrong, you know. You lot. He’s not wrong. Happy with yourselves?”

No response.

“Figures.”

He sighs and leans back. Well, it’s not like he had to care or anything—that’s the whole point of it being apathy, isn’t it? Even if his sword’s still bloody.

Clock’s ticking.

#limited life smp #a bee fic #martyn inthelittlewood #scott smajor #so the thing is that the silly chaos can be seen as ‘they’re just having a good time (positive)’ #but it can ALSO easily be read as ‘they’re just having a good time (concerning)’ #so here’s the latter.

[night-raven-tattler]

I need just one thing...

Summary: You're having a hard time and need a bit of a positive push. Your friends are ready to support you.

Characters: Ruggie, Vil, Ortho, Grim and GN!Reader (separate, platonic)

Warnings: sewing needles (Ruggie's part), food (Vil cooks), mentions of signs of distress (Ortho's part)

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Ruggie's laughter could be heard from the furthest corners of the campus, and he was too agile for you to catch him and cover his mouth

You were already embarassed, yet he had the audacity to put salt on the wound

It all started when you discovered a wide tear on your uniform jacket sleeve, only after walking around with it for the whole day

It was the only uniform jacket you had, so you panicked at the prospect of having to fix it or walk around without it

And you didn't have Leona's apathy or Kalim's status to walk around without a full uniform

So fixing it was your only real option

Problem was... you didn't know how to sew

You went to your jack of all trades friend, Ruggie, for some help, but he laughed in your face

"Wow, none of the people here know how to fend for themselves, not even you! Shyehehehe...!"

So you sat next to him, hiding the tear on your uniform and blushing from embarrassement until Ruggie managed to calm down

Ruggie wiped a few tears from his eyes and reached his hand to you

"Alright, hand it over. Limited time offer!"

Hesitantly, you took the jacket off and handed it to Ruggie, who pulled out of his pocket a small box with sewing supplies

"Spelldrive pracitices get really nasty sometimes, you have no idea how many fixes and patches my P.E. uniform has. Shyehehe!"

He expertly pulled some black thread through a needle and went to work

"You gotta use a thicker needle for this uniform, the material is super thick and a small one will barely be able to get through it."

Ruggie sew the tear and, after making sure it wouldn't fall apart, he handed you the uniform to admire his handiwork

You had to hand it to Ruggie: his work was durable and hardly noticeable, you wouldn't be able to tell there was a tear in the first place

"Thank you Ruggie! What do I owe you?"

Hearing your question, Ruggie feigned contemplation by rubbing his chin for a few seconds before he just shrugged

"Nah, you just owe me a favor for now. Shyehehehe!"

You accepted Ruggie's price and walked away in higher spirits that before

Who knows, maybe you'll just owe him a back massage after a day of being pulled through the wringer by Leona, shyehehe!

『••✎••』

The other Pomefiore students were giving awestruck looks and flabbergasted gasps to their housewarden as they watched him cut up some vegetables, carefully yet slowly

It was almost as if, to some, the idea of Vil getting his hands dirty was inconceivable

Vil couldn't be bothered by the shock of his students, however

If he were honest, he was actually quite insulted at their indignation

"Have you never seen anyone perform a basic life skill? If you have nothing productive to say, leave."

And, with a few words, he shooed away the students from the Pomefiore kitchen

Vil took a mental note to have a dorm meeting later that day and redefine his students' definition of beauty...

He recognised the beauty of his friendship with you and the trust you've developed with each other

And he recognised the beauty in the vulnerability you showed him not too long ago

His search eventually lead him to your dorm, where he found you trying to manage a nasty cold all by yourself

Vil dropped by your dorm to check up on you; he didn't see you around campus, and your friends said they haven't seen you all day either

You were caught in the rain the other day, and you couldn't change into dry clothes right away, so you were nerfed soon enough

Vil was not the nicest person out there, but he was kind, and you knew that

But you still were surprised when he asked what you needed, and not if you needed anything

And you also knew that if you tried to argue with him and deny his help, he'd dig his heels in and nurse you back to health all by himself

"...Just some soup. I miss my family's homemade soup..."

He wasn't the best cook, but he knew the basics, which were enough

And so he let you rest while he went back to his dorm to prepare the best soup he could

Fortunately for him, he bumped into Epel in the kitchen, who recommended him a few recipes from his grandma and gave him some pointers before running to his spelldrive practice

Vil chopped the vegetables from Epel's recipe and put them in the boiling water, gradually adjusting the food to your tastes

In no time, the soup was done, so he put some into a container and headed straight to you

Vil recognised the beauty in many things, especially when it came to you two

And currently, he couldn't deny how beautiful your genuine smile was as you sat comfortable in bed and slowly sipped his offering, one spoonful at a time

All while you listened to him talk about his experience with cooking and that new potion study he's been waiting all day to share with you

『••✎••』

The moment Ortho's eyes fell onto you, his scanners told him how bad your day was

You had low levels of energy, hydration and focus

On top of that, your uniform had its knees dirty and a small rip on a sleeve

At least you had no physical injuries

However, you made it your personal mission for the day to talk to as few people as you could; not even your best friends were with you

Ortho figured he'd approach you during your shared potionology lesson you were about to have in the botanical gardens

But you never showed up for the lesson

No one knew where you were, they only saw you enter the building

So Ortho decided to skip class for the first time of his short student life and look for you

It wasn't too hard for him to do so, and soon enough he detected your presence behind a few bushes in the subtropical zone

...he also detected the muffled sound of sobs, paired with an increase of distress and elevated blood pressure

He silently approached the bushes

And you raised your head at the sound of his jets

You quickly wiped some of your tears, putting a wobbly yet sincere smile

"Hello, Reader!"

"Hi, Ortho..."

Ortho sat himself next to you and, before you could think of ways to deal with the slightly awkward silence, he spoke first

"You are in distress."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his bluntness, especially since his assessment was, as always, correct

"...Yeah, kinda."

He knew he should've looked up how to comfort you, it was unlike him to not use the readily available search engine he was built with already

And yet, he found himself saying words he's never spoken before

"Offering comfort is an appropriate response for someone in distress. How do you want me to offer it?"

He waited patiently for you to wipe your tears and give him your answer

"Just a hug..."

Your shaky voice carried your plea, and Ortho was faced with what he could only describe as surprise

Ortho was not in the appropriate gear to fulfill your request

His "body" was hard and cold, the worst for the task you gave him

But he never left tasks unfinished, so he hugged you as tightly as he thought was humanly acceptable

And you held him just as tightly, if not more, as the dam broke and you cried your tears

Ortho hesitated before he started playing calming music from his speakers as he hugged you just a little bit tighter

『••✎••』

It was that time of the week when Grim walked to you on his back paws with a comb in between his free paws, ordering you to brush his fur

Usually you were more than willing to accept the job: ever since you've been living together and participating in Grim's maintenance, his fur became shiny, smooth and blissfully soft

It was part of why he started to enjoy the routine, and even kept track of it

But that day, it was... just not a good time

You just had a long day, and as much as you would've loved to do nothing but brush Grim, you had no energy left in your body

"Sorry, Grim. I really can't. Tomorrow?"

You didn't even change out of your uniform, you just plopped onto bed and laid there, fully expecting Grin's usual complains

But you heard nothing but the sound of metal touching wood

Your were barely awake when you felt the mattress sink into the bed slightly, followed by a few small feet climbing on your back

...and claws sinking into your jacket comfortingly as a certain someone was kneading into you

A small purr started rumbling from above you, and you started drifting off...

You woke up in the middle of the night

You tried to get up, but you had something heavy on your back

After rolling it off you, you realised it was Grim

You smiled towards him and pet him, and he curled into himself, sighing contentedly

You changed into your pyjamas and set up an earlier alarm so you could brush Grim's fur in the morning before crawling back into your bed and falling back asleep

『••✎••』

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ruggie bucchi #vil schoenheit #ortho shroud #twst grim #twisted wonderland grim

[lotus-pear]

Writing a complex character such as Dazai is actually really hard even for people who understand him because he is, as you said, extremely unpredictable. I don't know exactly what to tell you, but I'll try to help a little bit!

The whole thing about Dazai is that he doesn't understand humanity. He understands the basics and why people do what they do because he is analytical and has been studying people's behavior and human connections forever. But he doesn't feel connected with humanity and empathy the same way other people do. He perceives others from like, the other side of a barrier. He studies them carefully. Manages to care about them deeply sometimes. Even deeper when they're able to see him and get to him (Odasaku, Atsushi, Chuuya, the whole agency in fact means something to him). But there's always this layer of disconnection and apathy and emptiness he doesn't know how to get rid of. It's like he cares, but he actually doesn't because he rationalizes everything and turns it into a game of chess, more or less? And I think that frustrates him. He isn't used to caring about people because he doesn't understand them, but he takes an interest in the people he finds amusing to study and once he cares deeply, they're taken away from him (that's why he mourns and regrets Oda's death so much. He feels like the world takes everything away from him the second he manages to feel human). Hence the whole thing about not feeling human (amongst other things). He cares and yet he is realistic. He has regrets and suffers and feels pain and he can care about others (ignore all the people who keep portraying him as an emotionless monster, please) but he doesn't drown in self-pity when it comes to all the people he has killed and his past because he can rationalize that. It was another era. He has moved on. And if it's for the greater good of the mission or his journey to find something to live for, he doesn't care how many random people he has to kill (when he was younger he valued other people's lives way less, of course. Now that has changed because his apathy is something he doesn't turn into cruelty and instead uses to rationalize plans and help the world and the agency. Basically, when he was part of the mafia it was kind of "I don't give a fuck about random people" because he genuinely didn't feel anything for them, but now, even if he doesn't genuinely care for them, he protects even random people because that's what the image of kindness Oda had planned for him). Oda tells him that, if the good side and the bad one are the same and he hasn't found anything to live for yet, why not help the world while he's at it? And it's such a beautiful thought because Dazai has this issue with understanding humanity and making bonds. But he understands, now more than ever after Oda's death, what living and killing means. He might not actually care that much for society and its well-being, but maybe he can find something to live for in the light more than he would in the darkness. He keeps wanting to kill himself, right? He keeps trying. But he doesn't actually want to. It's common sense. If he truly wanted to, he already would've done it. "I don't like pain" is the most common thing to say when you don't actually want to do it. I think that, unlike Nikolai, who actually craves to die as a representation of freedom, Dazai only wants to keep trying and trying to find a reason for living. Chuuya was that thing when he was in the Mafia. Chuuya and Oda, because Chuuya is quite literally his soulmate (in the sense of bringing amusement to his life and also making him feel human, as his ability is the only thing that can help Chuuya. And also Chuuya not being human but being the most empathetic and emotional of all the people Dazai has met in the mafia) and Oda was the first one to actually understand him and see him for who he is, something I don't think he'll ever find again and that's why Oda's death fucked him up so bad. He found a place to belong and somebody to live for, and then he dies and leaves him alone? It's not fair, but he'll try to fight for good and live in the light if that's what Oda wanted for him. As if Oda knew him better than he knows himself because I also think he has a hard time with his own perception and personality.

In simpler words: Dazai has a hard time understanding humanity because he feels disconnected from it by a layer of apathy and the fact that he doesn't understand basic human needs/actions because he doesn't share them. One of the things that makes us human is desires, right? Wanting. Loving. Longing. Dazai rejects all of that because he doesn't know what he wants and nothing he tries ends up making him feel whole. In "No Longer Human", actually, you can read things like "It is almost impossible for me to converse with other people" and "I have never known what it means to be hungry / Eat or die, the saying goes, but to my ears, it sounded like just one more unpleasant threat". So he isn't a monster, his brain just functions in a different way. He sees everything. Analyzes every little thing. He's smarter than everybody else and he's aware of that, but he feels lonely there and only wants somebody to understand or something to fight for. Oda gave him both things, and the agency gave him a reason to keep going because he genuinely cares about doing good and keeping them safe. I don't think Dazai's journey has ended, because he still fights against.... So many things with himself. His past. His future. His desires. But at least now he has a thing to enjoy and bring him happiness. His constant act of being "silly" isn't that much of a facade. I mean, I think it is because if he acts like a clown, nobody will ever see the true self he hides. But I think he ends up having fun with the agency and annoying Chuuya because he sees them respond to his behavior and he finds it amusing. I think being extremely smart and lonely and tormented can coexist with being fun sometimes.

As per writing in his POV.... It depends on what you want to write, really. I think his brain functions differently depending on his mood. I guess the most important thing is to keep in mind his surroundings because he's always hyperaware of every little thing. But it frustrates him not knowing how he's feeling or not understanding what he actually truly needs, often focusing on others instead of looking into himself, because every time he does, he only finds himself empty and craving for something he doesn't know what it is. In his worst moments, I think it's quite obvious he tries to fix things with distractions and impulsive actions like substance abuse. In his more analytical moments, it's when he becomes more apathetic and sees the world as his game of chess and people as only pawns. He knows he's human, he just doesn't feel like it. Fyodor has a sense of superiority Dazai doesn't share. He's smarter because his brain functions differently, but he is no God. He is no entity. He analyzes from the POV of somebody external to humanity but knowing quite well he isn't God. And when he's having genuine fun and feeling some type of care/love? I think he's grateful. The emptiness is always there, though. Always haunting him. In the back of his brain. But he sees hope in Atsushi and a place to keep his promise in the agency and maybe fulfill his heart. He might always have a fucked up perception of himself, but at least he's aware that doing the right thing fills the hole in his chest more than tormenting others. As I said, he likes it there (and Chuuya) because it makes him experience humanity even if he keeps telling himself he isn't human (No Longer Human quote: "You miss her, don't you?" / "Yes." / "That's human nature, I guess").

I don't know if I helped you?? I think it's a bit of a mess, sorry 😭 It's like 3am and I don't know if what I said makes any sense, but I really hope I was able to help you!

holy FUCK it took me fifteen minutes to read all of this and i'm glad i did because this is the most succinct and articulate analysis i have ever seen of dazai's underlying nature and his ambitions in relevance to the plot OP I THINK IF ASIGIRI CANT WRITE ANYMORE YOU SHOULD TAKE OVER BSD MANGA BC I THINK U UNDERSTAND DAZAI BETTER THAN HE DOES SOMETIMES TBH💀💀 aaaa jkjk i digress you were so real for bringing up the yozo/dazai parallels bc there's genuinely so many and if i still had my fucking BOOK :side eye: i could go through the intricate and profound commentary i left in the margins but alas my dear friend insists on keeping it longer. there's nothing more i can say on this topic bc i agree w you on everything wholeheartedly i think you deserve a scholarship to harvard or smth bc god DAMN you would slay as a lit or lang major

#one more thing i will add is dazai's inherently selfish nature in the mafia which he lashes out against due to oda's last words #bc he rly DID only care abt his own interests and wouldn't take action unless he reaped mutual benefit #massive slay when he entered his redemption arc good for him good for him #anyway TY FOR THE ANALYSIS U ARE THE BEST MWAH MWAH💞💞💞 #best ask i've received EVER <333333333 #lotus’s asks

[ofallthingsnasty]

tw: yandere, kidnapping/basement spousery, depression, mentions of noncon, gn reader characters: Crocodile, Sanji, Doflamingo, Law word count: 1.3k

One thing I learned recently is that I'm definitely a social creature and would get horribly, horribly depressed as someone's basement wife, even a well entertained one. All the books, the crafts, the soft music in the world couldn't prevent me from sobbing into my pillows, couldn't get me to crawl out of bed and to paint a smile on my face. Oh, but how would your captor react? For some, it's definitely a necessary evil - Crocodile comes to mind here. Annoyed by your lethargy, by your random tears and your meek, taciturn responses, he finds himself frustrated at times. This state of mind really isn’t ideal - he wanted you docile, sure, but not lifeless. Yet it's also awfully convenient when you just let him push you around, let him caress and touch you - and not out of fear of him, simply because you don't care to struggle. He discovers that he can forgive a lot when you're especially shaken and cling to him, bury your head in his chest because he's the only human you'll ever know again and the world is so bleak around you and you just need him right now. Of course, it would be nicer if you didn't do it because he's the only warm-blooded creature that you interact with, but he'll take what he can get. (And with time, it weirdly grows on him: him turning into the center of your life, the way your eyes seem to light up the tiniest bit when he comes home to you, something he thought mildly annoying at first turning out to be awfully convenient.)

To others, it's devastating. Sanji lives for your smiles, your warmth, the way your eyes crinkle and you jut your head forward when you fully, genuinely laugh - total apathy is worse than antagonism to him. If you were to scream, shout, put your fingers around his neck and squeeze with the desperation of a cornered prey animal, he'd at least get a reaction, some signs of life out of you. But you don't even do that. You just sit and try to suppress tears while he holds your hand. Sometimes he just cries with you, letting himself fall into the same hole you're being pulled into. It makes him regret taking you so utterly, bitterly, makes him feel all those memories from when he was a child bubble up in his stomach until they force themselves out and he has to vomit to be rid of them. He’s just like his father, he thinks, and it makes him sick. He’s rotten down to the very core, cursed from birth and now he has gone and soiled you, too - he’ll end up sobbing into the crook of your neck more than once, full of genuine remorse. And all you’ll be able to do is absentmindedly pat his hair, thoughts spilling like an knocked over ink well. No, you slipping into a deeply depressive state is only going to worsen the hatred he has for himself, is going to poison him slowly and steadily until he’ll be in agony. Maybe it’s his just punishment.

Then there are the ones like Doflamingo who simply don’t care. You don’t crawl out of bed until noon? You just stare into space or bury yourself in books when you finally do? You’re just lifeless by his side, just blink, shrug your shoulders when spoken to, just exist? Whatever, he has always treated you like a doll from the start. He can even weather the elusive bouts of sobbing and crying (even if he hates it when they happen), because most of the time you’re just his poseable thing and he is nothing if not generous to allow you a tantrum here and there. He doesn't feel bad about you being a more of a hollowed out shell of a person than a fully-fledged human with a rich inner life and doesn't care that most of it is his fault - his fault that you fester and rot beneath the surface, his fault that all the opulent, vibrant clothing and the scorching hot days by the pool still leave you frosty and weirdly bloodless, like a cold-blooded creature in winter. Food is ash in your mouth and only sours your stomach but you still eat when he tells you to, touches feel foreign and loveless but you still let him fuck you if he so wishes. Why should he care what circles around in your head when he gets to do anything he wants to you? That you feel like life is no luster, only desperation? The truly bothersome parts are taken care of by his myriad of servants and the family. Messes left behind get cleaned up, baths are forced on you regularly, as are grooming sessions. If you don’t get dressed on your own either someone else will see to it or he will - and he’ll have his payment for his time, trust me. The solemn mood, the non-existent smiles… he doesn't care for that. You’re not here for your entertainment, you’re here for his. And you just accepting your fate and letting him do whatever it is he wants… That’s just perfect, isn’t it?

Of course, let’s not forget about the ones who secretly love it. Law is a prime example, especially with his medical background. He isn’t surprised that your mood sways - he expected as much when he restricted your every move, declared the outside world to be too unhealthy for you. Of course you’d slip into a depressive episode. And it’s not a flaw, it’s intentional. Because now - now, when you can’t peel yourself out of bed, when everything feels too much, when you can’t feed or move or dress or take care of yourself- he gets to swoop in. He gets to do it for you, gets to tell you that he’s here and that he’ll always catch you when you fall. That his assessment of your condition was accurate - that you always needed him, right from the start. Dependency is worth more than all the love in the world to him. It simply doesn’t matter if you’d rather slit his throat than to behave for him out of your own volition - as long as you can’t leave. Even if he genuinely loves you, he’s not deluded enough to cling to daydreams of him and you living a quiet, happy life full of reciprocated affection, that ship has long sailed - sailed ever since his childhood got irrevocably destroyed. No. Love is nice and good and makes him wash you gladly, makes him care for you with delicate hands and with a patient brow - but your sickness makes you stay, renders you unable to leave him. It’s the only currency he can trade in when it comes to you. He’s your savior and tormentor rolled into one person; but above all he is the only one who cares and will forever care. You could rot yourself into a pathetic, sweat-soaked, disgusting corner, could turn into nothing but a husk and he’d always, always nurse you out of the ditch he’s found you in, just at the right time.  What he doesn’t tell you is that he could help you. At least artificially. Boost your moods with SSRIs until you bounce off the walls with nervousness and sweat thrice as much; make you giddy and shaky until you get used to the dose. Until the world seems worth living in once more, until at least some color returns to your drab eyes. He could get you the medication, even try some speech therapy, could help you like a good boyfriend should. But why? It makes no sense. Why help you only to get some fire back, maybe even for you to slip through his fingers? It’s easier to sit in twosome silence with tired eyes watching him, eyes that one day might be grateful for all the work he has put into them. Until then, it’s of utmost importance that they stay right where they are: in a cramped, dirty corner of a bed, dull and lifeless.

#i hope you can see where i'm going with law's part? he's such a little creeper... but also deeply traumatized... ugh #idk i hope this was coherrent it has been rotting away in my brain for 3 weeks now #yandere one piece #trafalgar law x reader #sanji x reader #crocodile x reader #doflamingo x reader #tw.yandere #/crocodile #/sanji #/doflamingo #/law #/one piece

[nanawritesit]

Beelzebub Imagine: Making Breakfast Together

TW: kissing, cuddling, preparing and eating food, brief mentions of dieting (asmo)

—————

You squinted as your alarm went off, reaching over to turn it off. Why is it going off so early? you asked yourself momentarily, then sighed as you remembered. It was your day to make breakfast with Beel.

Seeing as there were seven days a week, Lucifer decided to leave meal preparations to the brothers, being that there were seven of them. Rather than throw off the system just to give you a day, he decided to just have you assist Beel on his day. He was always eating everything before he could serve it, and you were pretty good at controlling him.

You threw on your robe and slippers and made your way down the hall to Beel and Belphie’s room. You never had to worry about waking Belphie up, since he could sleep through an earthquake.

“Beel, honey…” you spoke softly, shaking him awake. “It’s time to make breakfast.”

He opened an eye at the mention of breakfast, then saw you sitting next to him with a cute smile. “Good morning Y/N.” he grinned back at you, stretching slightly.

“Good morning, Beelzebaby.” you replied, ruffling his tangerine locks. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mmhm.” he nodded, yawning slightly. Suddenly, he scooped you up in his arms and rolled you over to the other side of the bed, clinging onto you like a koala.

“Beel!” you yelped as he did so, giggling at his sudden display of affection. “What are you doing?”

“Getting my cuddles in.” he answered matter of factly, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I can’t start my day without them.”

“Awh, that’s sweet babe, but we really need to get started on breakfast…” you protested, trying to move out of his grasp. He was much too strong though, pinning you down to the bed with just his body weight.

“Mm, five more minutes…” he groaned.

“Now you’re starting to sound like your twin over there.” you teased him, gesturing to the demon on the other side of the room who was currently drooling into his cow-print pillow. “If I give you a kiss, will you get up?”

“Maybe…” he grumbled with a pouty tone. You simply chuckled at his false apathy and sat up in his arms to place a sweet kiss on his lips. He smiled as you pulled away, pulling you back down for another one, then another one after that, then one more…

“Beel, you’re being so gluttonous!” you giggled, shoving him away from you.

“I can’t help it, you taste so good…” he justified himself, finally rolling off the bed. “But, I’m a demon of my word. Let’s go, babe.”

You jumped up on his back on the way down the stairs, making him stumble a bit in surprise but still catch you without any problem. You were so small compared to him that the entire force of your body weight barely made him tumble over.

The violet-eyed demon set you down gently as you reached the kitchen, then immediately busied himself with preparing the drinks. It was your arrangement that he would handle making the drinks while you started on the food. It was partly because he wanted things to be fair, and partly an attempt to make sure he didn’t eat all of the food before breakfast was served. Besides, you could usually finish cooking the food before all of the drinks were finished.

The brothers were super picky with their drinks, and they all wanted something different. Lucifer insisted on having his shadow coffee mixed with oolong and black tea, Mammon wanted his chaos devil cider with ginger ale, Levi requested orange acid and iced tea, Satan wouldn’t drink anything but caged clot matcha, Asmo demanded a bloody berry smoothie, Beel liked blood strawberry juice with his pancakes, and Belphie needed a d-energy drink to start his day or he wouldn’t have a hope of making it through classes. You were the easiest person to cater to, only requesting a simple hell coffee with cream and sugar.

While Beel was hard at work preparing the long list of detailed drinks, you got started on the food items. You decided to make hell pancakes, bufo eggs, and black-tapir steak since it was such a hit with everyone. They weren’t nearly as choosy with their food as they were with their drinks. Well, except for Asmo, who only drank his smoothie because he “needed to stay slender.”

As Beel was waiting for all the various teas and coffees to brew, he decided to wander over to the stove and wrap his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder. It was kind of awkward for him to bend down so far, but he wanted to be close to you.

“Whatcha’ doin, Beelzebaby?” you inquired with a tiny grin.

“Hugging you.” he replied, nuzzling his face into your neck. He glanced down at the pan you were stirring up the steak in with some death garlic and grieving onion. He sniffed the air and squinted his eyes shut in pleasure. “Mm, that smells really good…”

“You know the rules, Beel. No eating until we get to the table.” you informed him sternly.

“But Y/N…” he whined, gripping onto you tighter. “I don’t think I can make it that long…” He began peppering kisses all across your cheek, ear, and neck, making you feel flustered.

“Okay, you can have one bite. No more, understand?” you explained to him.

He nodded frantically into your shoulder. “Yes, only one, I promise.”

You picked up a piece of steak with the tongs and held it up to his lips. He gobbled it straight up, swallowing it in seconds. You could feel the happiness radiating off of him as he enjoyed the savory flavor. He didn’t seem to care at all that it was searing hot, or that it was half cooked.

“Thanks baby, that was delicious.” he beamed, kissing your cheek one last time before walking back over to the kitchen island where he was preparing his drinks. Now having received a pick-me-up, he had all the energy he needed to finish making them.

After what felt like forever, you had finished making all the food, and scooped it into serving dishes to be brought out into the dining room.

“Let me take those babe, they look heavy.” your boyfriend insisted, taking them from you. You smiled gratefully, then carefully picked up the tray of drinks and followed him out to the dining room.

As you arrived at the table, the rest of the brothers all started filing in. Lucifer was first, as usual, and graciously took his place at the head of the table.

“Here’s your shadow coffee with oolong and black tea.” you chirped as you held the tray out to the eldest brother.

“Thank you very much, Y/N.” he chimed with a small appreciative smile. “I really appreciate you helping Beel prepare breakfast. I’m sure it’s not an easy task.”

“Nonsense, I enjoy being around him.” you reassured him.

Beel gave you a touched grin and a small blush, ruffling your hair as you walked past him. He wouldn’t trade you for anything else in the whole world, and you felt the exact same way about him.

#beelzebub x reader #beelzebub imagines #beelzebub scenarios #beelzebub fluff #beelzebub fanfic #beelzebub obey me #beelzebub headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me shall we date #obey me writing #obey me requests #obey me x reader #obey me scenarios #obey me fluff #obey me fanfic

[dottedsilktie]

French Riviera

Imagine a non-sorcerer AU where you work under Nanami Kento in a PR agency. Nanami is a well-respected professional, founder of a household name in the field, and you're dependable, smart and ambitious so it's no surprise when you quickly becomes his right-hand woman. All is well, except when Kento is one drink away from causing a PR disaster of his own if it means getting his favourite employee to spend some time away with him travelling the French riviera.

CW : afab reader, slightly suggestive, alcohol consumption, smoking, unaddressed sexual tension

Kento and you have grown closer over the years, your work relationship pristine in appearance, but underneath lies a constant struggle to resist stumbling into unknown territory every time you end up working late nights together. On nights like these, to thank you for your time and for a job well-done, Kento lingers behind after sending everyone else home and locks the door to his office behind him. He's usually parsimonious with his praise, but he can't hold back when he's fervently thanking you for yet another averted crisis as he pours you a glass of cognac. You're a bashful mess, blaming the burning spirit for the blush that adorns your cheek and hoping the dim light of his office conceals your growing fluster.

His lithe fingers brush yours when he hands you another glass, his laughter a bit too loud when you share your stories, and his gaze lingers on your parted lips for a tad too long. Kento knows well what it all means.

He should be sending you home instead of opening another bottle. He should curb your rambling. Yet, he presses for more, genuinely curious about your personal life - weekends, vacation plans, anyone accompanying you- and he breathes a sigh of relief when you inform him you are very much alone, work eating up any time for relationships.

Kento should hold back, but he can't bring himself to, especially since you don't seem to mind his prying. The usual frown on your face is replaced by a drowsy little smile and your eyes are soft when you stare at him, like you're just waiting for him to make a move.

"What about you, Kento ?" you quip, voice heavy with sleep and tipsiness. It snaps him out of his reverie ; the sound of his own name rolling off your tongue never gets old. He's not sure what you're referring to, hopes he's not too far off the mark when he starts rambling about flying to France to spend some time off at the Côte d'Azur but he's interrupted by a fit of giggles.

"That's not what I asked, Ken" you purr, shuffling a little in your seat to face him fully, crossing one long, tight-clad leg over the other. He doesn't have time to dwell on how your whisper of his nickname sends a warm wave of pleasure down his spine, instead choosing to fight off the cognac-induced haze in his mind to come up with an answer to your question.

He clears his throat as he leans forward in his seat, dropping his gaze to the hem of your skirt riding up your thighs.

"I'll be travelling alone, too. Maybe we can meet up if you can make a detour on your way back" he responds, lips stretched in a lopsided grin. He's good at hiding the excitement that the prospect of seeing you outside of work sends rushing through him.

You think he's almost painfully nonchalant when he pulls out a pack of red Marlboros to offer you one, taking it out of your grasp when you try to reach for it with your hand. He's hot and cold and it sends your mind reeling, thoughts of misinterpreting his innuendos plaguing your mind.

His feigned apathy is, however, quick to falter when he tuts and beckons you to lean over the mahogany console separating you two, holding the cigarette between two fingers as he tells you to "open up" and places it between your parted lips. He lights it for you, lets you take a long drag of it, then waits for your answer.

"I'd love that, I hear Cassis is lovely around that time of the year" , you finally mumble around your cigarette, voice barely above a whisper.

Kento smiles, gently taking the cigarette from your lips to bring it to his. "It is", he confirms between long drags, amber eyes never leaving yours as he watches how your pretty face lights up.

"It's settled then", Kento adds, putting out the cigarette in an ashtray nearby and holding up his glass, urging you to do the same.

"To Cassis" he toasts. "To Cassis" you repeat, smiling over the rim of your glass as you down your drink, thoughts of a French summer swimming in your mind.

Repost

#jjk drabbles #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

I love that every time Ochako and Deku talked about saving Toga and Tomura, they explicitly said that they couldn't forgive them for hurting so many people, including their friends.

But they still wanted to save them.

They had a whole conversation about how it was super weird. Shouldn't they want them dead? It was paralleled with Shouto saying he wanted to know what Touya's favorite food was, with Iida and Bakugo contributing to it.

The kids feeling a bit guilty because they want to help people in need, no matter what. It all being right before the reveal that Aoyama was the UA traitor, when class 1A decides that they wanted a future with Aoyama in it even after all he did. The kids slowly realizing that the answer to live a good life is to defuse those situations and find a way for everyone to live and heal on their own time.

When Deku explains that maybe the key is in trying to understand why the villains are doing what they are doing. When Ochako says that she never considered how Toga saw the world or how it could affect the way she attacked; not everyone saw the world like them, which means that not everyone could reach the same conclusions.

When Shouto asked Touya why he never came home and Touya was able to finally tell his story. When the Todorokis reunited to talk together about their family, their past and future. When Rei showed she knew that Touya only wanted to be seen and considered by his dad. When Ochako understood that it was all Toga wanted to, to be considered a person, not a monster. When they all realized that it's not that the League refused to see as much as they couldn't. Their hurt and their trauma kept them anchored in the past, blind to their surroundings, lashing out like a wounded animal to anyone.

Deku explained to the vestiges that he tried to connect with other villains and couldn't because they did not want to. Not everyone wants to be saved, they say. There's a possibility that Tomura doesn't want to be saved. Would you kill him if that's true? And Deku doesn't want to because his powers are not to kill, but to save. He says that he will figure it out if that's the case, but he reaaaally wants to save that crying kid.

From then to now.

To the vestiges sacrificing themselves to open a path to Deku to reach Tenko. To Hawks thinking about what Ochako said about wanting to see everybody smile. To the Todorokis joining forces to stop Touya because it's their responsibility, not only Shouto's.

From a world ruled by assumptions and apathy and misconceptions and violence, to a world that is based on understanding, communication and responsibility.

I love what it all means.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers

[oleander-nin]

Horrortober Day 21- Plead(Yandere 2012 Leo x Reader)

A/N, not important: Today and tomorrow stories are probably not gonna be the best, as I'm currently very worked up over school. Sorry for the inconvenience. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: lashings(?), abuse, dark themes, yandere themes

Words: 884

Summary: Leo really starts to crack down on your attitude

“Leo, Leo please, I’m sorry.” You sob, falling over yourself as you try to back away. His face is blank, a stern look in his eyes while he towers over you. He says nothing in response to your cries. They didn’t move him as they usually did, his walls not breaking nor his stern gaze fading. He was serious this time, and no amount of tears would save you.

He leans down and picks you up, his touch gentle despite the circumstances. You flail about in his arms, tears of desperation running down your cheeks. Your pleads and cries don’t phase him still, his blue eyes cold and hard. Maybe you should have thought through insulting him again just a little bit more, but it was too late now. Your words would be your downfall, until you learned to keep them to yourself.

Leo carries you through the lair while you flail and cry, his brothers looking down and ignoring your screams. Their faces were conflicted, feelings of pity and righteousness fighting with their loyalty for their brother. Mikey turns the volume of the TV up, trying to drown out your desperate pleas. While your cries only louden at the show of apathy, you weren't surprised. They had never helped you before, and you doubted they ever would. Not after you became what was essentially their older brother's stress toy.

The short walk to the dojo seems more like you’re being carried to your death, snot and tears mixing on your chin. Leo sets you down on one of the rugs that sits on the floor, his eyes daring you to move. You sink in on yourself, shaking pathetically while you wipe your face with your hands. 

“Please, please I’m sorry. I won’t say it again.” You try again, hoping to appeal to his sense of empathy or compassion that he usually held with you. He sighs, moving closer once he grabs the soft rope and the thin bamboo staff that he used in times like these. He grabs your ankle when you try to crawl backwards away from him, dragging you across the floor to the wall with no care.

Despite not gaining any outward reaction, you continue to beg for forgiveness, digging your hands into his heart and not letting go. You can tell by his face you were starting to get to him, his steady hands gaining a slight shake as he ties the rope to the hook on the wall, then around your wrists. You pull at the ropes in hopes to get your wrist free, but hiss in pain. The knot constricts your wrists as you tug at it, sending splinters of discomfort up your forearms. Leo’s hand settles in the middle of your back, gently shoving you forwards and onto your knees. He keeps your forehead against the wall, your heart thrumming in your chest as you try not to panic. 

You can’t see it, but you can hear the small woosh of the staff cutting through the air before it lands on the back of your calves. You scream at the hit, not caring how pathetic you looked and sounded at the moment. Your only thoughts were of the stinging pain on your legs, and the hope that Leo might take pity on you and stop early.

The staff comes down on your legs eleven more times, each strike pulling a scream from your throat. You were no longer holding yourself up, hanging desperately onto the rope that kept you still. Your pleads and cries morph together, only forming garbled whimpers while you try to process the pain. Leo’s hand comes back to your back, your body recoiling from the touch. You hear Leo sigh before the clatter of the wooden staff being dropped sounds next to you. One arm wraps around your waist the other loosening the ropes and sliding them off your now chafed wrists. He pulls you back, letting you fall against him so he could hold you tight. He doesn’t pay any mind to your weak struggles, his eyes focused on the floor beside your feet. 

“It’s over now.” He mumbles, pressing a kiss to your temple. You only whimper in response, your face still mucky with the residue to your tears. Leo takes a breath, trying to keep himself calm so as to not scare you more. Your legs strung and throbbed, the hot red marks slowly morphing into deep bruises on your legs.

“Promise you won’t misbehave, and I’ll never have to do this again.” Leo says slowly, acting as if this was a normal thing to do. You nod anyways, not caring for the situation enough to fight him on it. You were afraid he’d just start again. Leo smiles, nodding as he pulls you closer to his chest, seemingly relieved at your promised obedience. He hated seeing you cry, even if he was the cause.

Leo shifts you, hooking one arm under your knees and the other under your shoulder blades, carefully lifting you. You wipe your face with your hands, the tears still falling even if the horrid actions ended. Leo tsks, but says nothing, only making the journey back to his room, lightly chiding Mikey to turn the volume back down so he doesn’t ruin his hearing.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #leonardo #2012 tmnt #tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #2012 leo #2012 tmnt leonardo #yandere tmnt #yandere x you #tmnt reader insert #tmnt 2012 leonardo #2012 leonardo #yandere 2012 tmnt #yandere tmnt 2012 #yandere leo #yandere leonardo #yandere tmnt leo #yandere leo tmnt #yandere x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader #yandere teenage mutant ninja turtles