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laurelwinchester · 8 months

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There is no way I will EVER believe Dean Winchester was supposed to say, "and I you." There's no way they would've written the line that way even if it HAD been written. It's so grammatically awkward out of his mouth that it makes me laugh when I see it. I'm not against the ship, but the delusion about 15x18 is unending.

honestly...yeah. i have to agree with this. it's a strange and somewhat awkward line of dialogue anyway but it is a super strange line of dialogue to attempt to give, of all people, dean winchester.

listen, i am not anti d*stiel. i'm at the point where i have no strong feelings either way for the ship itself. it mostly just makes me feel a bit bored. i believe cas was definitely in love with dean. i believed that long before he said it out loud. it was pretty obvious. i think there are different ways to interpret dean's feelings - and yes, one of those ways is that he was in love with him too. it's very possible. ultimately i just don't care enough to put any real work or feelings into that ship in any way.

but dean would not have said that.

it is so stunningly out of character that i'm genuinely boggled as to how so many people are just like ''oh good. now we have confirmation. this sounds right. this is a fact now.''

if people want to believe dean reciprocates, i get that. of course people prefer their ship to be a mutual thing. i totally understand that. i have zero problem with that. but there's just. no way dean winchester would have said it in that specific way. unless he was very suddenly and momentarily possessed by the ghost of an old english gentleman.

which, to be fair, does sound like the kind of thing that would happen to him, but that would be a weird time for it to happen.

#i will say that the overall mood of just general acceptance that this line is a fact does validate my theory that the current spn fandom #has literally no grasp on dean winchester as a character #which is sad because they have tried really really hard to replace canon dean with watered down fanon dean (a dud if i ever saw one)#and unfortunately given how widespread this is.... that appears to be working #which means that the only dean who will be remembered is the dean they made up in their heads and that's unfortunate #because that dude is terribly dull #it's sort of like they took his corpse and embalmed him and preserved him real nice #and then propped him up at the back of a party so they could make him their puppet and talk for him #and are trying to con people into believing this was always who he was #which sounds like a great horror movie but i know that's not what they're going for #BUT ANYWAY #.....also there's a very real chance that this was just a translation error #and maybe the line was just something like ''i love you too'' but was translated into ''and i you''#and some portions of the fandom are just being too literal which.......i mean. yeah. i can see that #asks #anon #spn fandom discourse #spn discourse

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gothamcityneedsme · 11 months

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something something, barbara is actually the like. main next gen hero of the arkhamverse because shes the only one who voices to batman that shes continuing the crusade etc etc

#Shitpost #ill post more about this later #but shes the only one who is like 'im just getting started'#like jason does go off and start to work on a redemption. dick is continuing his work. Tim will also continue.#and Bruce specifically like puts his faith in his three boys. He trained them and believes in them and is proud of them #ie the hallucination scene with Tim shows this best (which is sad lol) where Tim goes off to fight the Knight on his own #and ofc 'im proud of you dick' and 'i knew he would' for dick and jason #so like we SEE how batman sees his successors #azrael could also be put in weirdly too but im going to focus here #anyways. Barbara is the only one he doesnt quite have the same kind of moment with #and its like. Its because she is actually hos equal in his eyes i think?#shes not his student. Shes totally her own AND she is also sort of a co-Alfred #(And Alfreds importance is really stressed in Origins like as a thesis of that game)#etc etc Oracle had been critical and central in these games since Asylum so she really is the bastion of the new rise #thatll happen after Bruces 'death' in the game #Eco. Tim and Jason are both main successors to Gotham but theyre a smokescreen for the real protector: barbara #shes the only other one who looked at Scarecrow fearlessly #I will probably post about this more but i was thinking and wanted to get it out

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suzukiblu · 8 months

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excerpt from in-progress "timebending with Zuko" fic

Zuko wakes up and everything hurts.

Most specifically, his scar hurts.

That . . . doesn’t make sense, he thinks, and reaches for it automatically. A strong hand catches his wrist before he can touch it, which seems–fair, yes. Probably a good idea, anyway, because spirits does it hurt. Just . . . so much.

“Uncle?” he asks reflexively, attempting to open his eyes. It’s surprisingly difficult. And Uncle is in Ba Sing Se, of course, but he’s on his back on a futon or bedroll or something similar and someone’s sitting beside him and his head is swimming and he’s injured, clearly, so options for who said “someone” might be are limited, really.

So it’s not Uncle, obviously, but . . .

“Nephew,” Uncle says, very quietly, and Zuko . . . blinks.

At least, half-blinks. The one eye’s in too much pain to open.

The ceiling is metal, he notes absentmindedly. That’s . . . odd. He was in the palace, wasn't he?

“What happened?” he asks, vaguely bemused. Uncle pauses in a very concerning way, and Zuko has about three heart attacks about just how badly he doesn’t want to know what he’s about to say before–

“The Agni Kai,” Uncle says, very carefully. “Do you remember it?”

Zuko frowns–just with the one side of his face, because again, his scar hurts right now. To the point that his whole body feels wrong, does his scar hurt right now.

“Um–which one?” he asks, because there’s been about a dozen this month alone, and frankly he’s getting really sick of fighting them at this point but if the old guard of nobles are just going to keep dragging everything out like this–

“With your father, Nephew,” Uncle says, very carefully.

Zuko . . . blinks.

“Oh,” he says, vaguely perplexed. Uncle never talks to him about that. “Yeah, I remember that. What about it?”

“Do you remember what happened?” Uncle says.

“The part where I disgraced myself or the part where he burned my face?” Zuko says, because it’s so fucked up and awful and horrible that he can’t even get upset about it anymore, except when he’s really upset about it. But if Uncle’s bringing it up, presumably he has a good reason to be, so . . . “Or the whole ‘go find the Avatar who no one even believes exists anymore or you can never come home again’ part?”

“. . . all of that, yes,” Uncle says, still sounding very careful. Zuko frowns a little–again with just the one side of his face–and then looks over at him. His body still feels weird and wrong, but . . .

But . . .

They’re on a ship, he realizes. A Fire Nation one.

Well, explains the metal ceiling.

It doesn’t explain why Uncle is wearing red armor and a topknot like he hasn't in years, though, or why he looks so unspeakably sad.

“Um,” Zuko says, and attempts to sit up. His head immediately starts swimming even worse, and Uncle catches his shoulders and keeps him pinned against the . . . futon? Looks like a futon, yeah. “Where are we, exactly?”

“We are aboard a ship,” Uncle says. “I . . . may have slightly commandeered it.”

“. . . you paid for it, right?” Zuko asks, a little skeptical at that idea.

“Yes, Nephew, I did,” Uncle says, giving him a very tired, pained smile. Zuko doesn’t feel much better, seeing it.

“Is someone dead?” he asks, because he can’t think of anything else that would make Uncle look that way.

“Ah–no, no one has died,” Uncle says.

“Then what’s wrong?” Zuko asks warily.

“. . . you are injured, Nephew,” Uncle says, slowly. Zuko frowns, bemused. “And your father . . . I did not know he was going to do this. I am so sorry.”

Zuko . . . pauses. Looks around the room again, and then realizes: he knows this room, doesn’t he. He knows this ship.

This is the same ship he woke up on after the Agni Kai.

“Hold that thought, Uncle,” he says, then lifts his hands and looks at them. They . . . well, they are his hands, obviously.

But they’re not his hands, obviously.

“Huh,” he says, frowning in bemusement at them; turning them around like he half-expects them to stop being a thirteen year-old’s or something equally ridiculous. They don’t. They are very definitely a thirteen year-old’s hands.

Specifically, his thirteen year-old hands.

Huh.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says after a moment, putting his hands back down and glancing back to Uncle, who’s obviously the more important concern. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I took you into that meeting,” Uncle says, his voice tight. “And I watched the Agni Kai. And I did nothing to stop any of it.”

“I know,” Zuko says. “But it wasn’t your fault.”

“It was,” Uncle says, his smile a sad and terrible thing. “You were there because of my actions. My mistakes.”

“You’re not the one who wanted to sacrifice all those soldiers,” Zuko says. “Or the one who decided to throw fire at my face.”

“You were there because of me,” Uncle repeats, his voice tight and his smile no less terrible. It occurs to Zuko, briefly, that Uncle must be thinking of Lu Ten.

He only ever looks like that when he’s thinking about Lu Ten, so . . .

“Uncle,” he says. “Really. It’s not your fault.”

“Nephew,” Uncle says, and his voice is somehow even tighter. Zuko tries to get up again, and his head swims again, and Uncle moves to stop him again. This time he grabs onto Uncle’s wrists and uses them to pull himself up, and then . . .

Well, then he’s sitting up, at least.

So that’s something.

He tilts his head and his hair slips into his eyes. It’s loose, and long. Not shaved on the sides yet, like he wore it the last time he was thirteen. He supposes he should cut it, but then again, why should he? He's not changing anything, after all.

Except for this conversation, he supposes, because that went very differently last time.

. . . hm.

"Uncle," he says one more time, and reaches out for him. Uncle doesn’t seem to understand what he’s trying to do, so he has to reach out a little farther, and then Uncle makes the connection and leans in and lets him wrap his arms around him and alright, yes: that’s better, Zuko thinks, and clings to him.

Just a little, perhaps, but . . .

Yes. He clings to him.

Uncle wraps his arms around him in turn, very carefully, and makes an awful sound.

“My boy,” he chokes. “I’m so–I’m so–”

“I forgive you,” Zuko lies, because of course there’s nothing to forgive.

But of course Uncle doesn’t understand that, does he.

#zuko #iroh #prince zuko #avatar: the last airbender #atla #rinfic #long post

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wakebymoonsleepbysun · 3 months

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Dogday!! Trying to figure out a way to send a Y/N in there to help him.

Rambles under the cut.

(I drew my sona in these cuz self-indulgent, but if I ever write anything it'll be a reader insert with little to no canon design.)

Design notes: Took some elements from his game model as well as his cartoon design. I think when we see him, he is emaciated and/or stretched out, the way CatNap is said to be able to stretch. Don't know if that's an ability all Smiling Critters have though. For now I'm saying it is SOMEWHAT but CatNap is the better at it by MILES. In any case, that's why he's not quite as lanky as he is in game, and is also a bit shorter.

I also he can be bipedal or quadrupedal, much like CatNap seems to be able to switch back and forth. A bit more animalistic than his cartoon counterpart, but part of that is just him not wanting to tower over the children and employees all the time, so drops down to all fours quite a bit.

The fur texture on his ears in the game cave him a floofy cocker spaniel look so I went with that instead of the less floofy ears he has in the cartoon and his original plushie.

The white pupils being absent when we see him I believe is a sign of how weak he is. When healthy, all the Bigger Bodies Smiling Critters have them, much like CatNap does.

Trying to actually keep his huge open-mouth smile at all times, unlike with my FNAF stuff where I give them more of an ability to emote. That said trying to get him to look angry or sad was a challenge. Sad I think worked okay but the one where I meant him to look angry he looks more cocky or smirky than mad. Tender moments are a bit harder too, as keeping that huge grin with more tender eyes results in him looking either drunk or horney or just like he's not taking the moment very seriously, haha.

And the story? Not sure yet, bouncing around a few ideas, though I don't think I'll have the reader and the player be the same person. Reader might be someone who came up in PlayCare alongside Dogday. Perhaps they knew each other as kids when Dogday was still human. Haven't decided how much of this Dogday remembers or at what point the reader realizes Dogday is their old friend who got "adopted".

Reader grows up the Playcare and is given a job once they're an adult. (Something something starting the brainwashing and normalization of bullshit early to make employees who are more willing to look the other way?)

Dogday somehow kept them hidden during the Hour of Joy and the reader's been living in the caves ever since. (The caves open up so much possibility for people being hidden in the factory. Much easier to say there's an unknown offshoot of a natural cave system than an unknown part of the factory.)

How are they staying fed? Uhhhh...cave mushrooms? Trips to the surface? Moss? Stale vending machine candy? I don't know yet.

Not sure how to pull a happy ending out of this horror but I'm trying. Maybe the reader convinces Dogday to leave after Ch 3 because he'd be too weak to help anyway or something? And uh...I'm just gonna pretend since he's kinda a plushie he can be sewn back together even though I'm PRETTY SURE canonically the inclusion of blood and guts makes that...not a thing.

Just remember guys...all winds blow away...eventually.

#poppy playtime #dogday #ppt dogday #ppt3 #poppy playtime chapter 3 #spoilers #ppt3 spoilers #poppy playtime spoilers #ppt x reader #ppt dogday x reader #dogday x reader #x reader #my art

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takenbypeter · 4 months

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Chocolate Fixes Everything

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 1179

Sick fic for Willy Wonka, made this cause I’m sick again and I’ve become sick so often these past few months 🙃

Accepting requests for Willy only right now send me any requests plz I’m on a Wonka high rn

You couldn’t believe it. Your throat was itchy, your nose was sore. You could barely get past fifteen minutes without a horrendous cough flying out from the back of your throat. Your nose was stuffed and if it wasn’t stuffed, it was runny, which is why you kept a box of tissues close by. It wasn’t the fact you were sick that you couldnt believe, it was the fact that you were sick only a mere weeks ago and here you were, ill again. Typically this didn’t happen to you but recently it seemed like your immune system was against you, (maybe it was because of all the chocolate you had eaten recently but who knows).

While many of your friends had got the message of your sickness it seems like Willy wasn’t one of them.

“You wouldn’t believe the idea that just popped into my head!” Wonka shouted as he practically tossed your door open, your eyes shot wide as you suddenly became fully alert at the abrupt activity.

Willy on the other hand walked right past your bed which was positioned on the opposite side of the door, with his mind clearly focused on whatever his new idea was.

“Noodle and I were discussing and she had just reminded me of—“ his words were cut off and his upbeat pacing came to a halt when he finally realized you were still in bed.

His expressions seemed to relay curious, then sadness as his facial lines deepened. Without missing a beat he pulled up the wooden chair nearby. “What happened? You look horrible.”

A knowing smile tugged at your lips while you pulled your blanket further to your chin, “gee thanks, that’s just what everyone wants to hear when they’re sick.”

“You’re sick!? No that can’t be, I remember you being sick only two weeks ago.”

You nod acknowledging the fact while his face shifts into surprised? Or maybe excitement…? Stunned? It seemed like all of the above.

“Well you’re in luck,” he exclaimed scooting himself back towards the desk across the room, setting up his small briefcase factory on the table, “because I have something that’ll make you feel right as rain,” he stops tinkering with his case for a brief moment to shoot you a mischevious look, “chocolate rain.”

You rolled your eyes while he turned right around whipping a concoction together.

“Willy, I love your enthusiasm but chocolate can’t just make everything feel better.”

“Says who? Who says?”

“Medical doctors that’s who!”

“Oh doctors schmoctors,” he waves the concern off.

“Chocolate does fix everything. And this isn’t just regular old chocolate.”

Attention grabbed, you watch peculiarly as he pushes buttons and pours things in different areas of his case.

“Last time you got sick you felt awful for practically a week and a half, and I started making this since then,” his briefcase makes whirring noises as it gets to work mixing the ingredients. “Now let me ask you, what do you typically take when you have a sore throat?”

“A spoonful of honey with lemon?” You ask, unsure if that was the answer he was looking for, I mean many people do a variety of things once sick, but you took a shot in the dark anyway.

“Absolutely. But that feeling only lasts for a short time. But with this candy I designed, it lasts far, far longer.”

The machine stops and out pops a single candy, shaped simple and evenly square, as green as a lime. And with that candy in hand he returns back to you across the room.

“This is a Choc-well, because as soon as you eat it you’ll feel well,” you gave him an odd look, “the name hasn’t been hashed out yet.”

He motions for you to open your hand and he drops the small piece in your palm, to which you look at suspiciously. “It’s chocolate?”

“Yes. The outer layer is a milk chocolate, while the inside is a honey like substance from the Beezle-midge. And then inside that, is a tiniest drop of twang from a lime.”

“Beezle-midge?”

“It’s a small type of insect that usually travels in groups, except when separated and given the right incentive it secretes honey.”

You winced grossed out by the fact, “ew.”

“It’s good, trust me. Now try it.”

With one final motivating look from the boy you took the chocolate and popped it in your mouth.

“If you want it to really work suck on the chocolate, don’t chew,” he instructed just as you were about to take the first bite. But you did as told enjoying the chocolate. Little by little the chocolate layer disappeared into your mouth as the honey started to make its way to the front and Willy watched on as you ate the delicacy.

After a few moments of honey came the tiniest twang of flavor just as he said and just like that the candy was gone.

“So, how does it feel?” He asks and for a moment you’re not sure what he’s asking for.

“How does your throat feel?”

You oh-ed before closing your mouth in thought. The taste was on its way out but your throat felt much better, it no longer hurt from soreness and you didn’t feel any itchiness no or scratchiness.

“It feels…normal! Like it doesn’t even hurt. That’s amazing! How does that happen?”

“The honey from the Beezle-midge as it’s going down puts a small coat along your throat which lasts practically a whole day.”

“That’s splendid Willy, truly astounding!” You praise sitting up in bed. True you still had your other symptoms but at least you didn’t have to worry about your throat or coughing for now. Willy displayed a bashful smile at the compliments that he took to heart.

“Why didn’t you give this to me last time?” You asked curious as to why he just let you suffer, surely it couldn’t be just cause he forgot.

“Well actually…” he tilts his head back and forth before continuing, “you being sick last time is kind of the inspiration for it.”

This was not a new thing, Willy used many different people and experiences as inspiration, but he suddenly felt so shyly in telling you about yourself being his inspiration. Why? Was it because he didn’t know how you were going to react? He knew you would react well of course, you always did when it came to his creations.

“You made this…” you pointed to air essentially now that the chocolate was gone, “because of me?”

He nodded modestly, “last time you got sick, you missed out on a lot, and we missed you a lot in the factory.”

You grinned a toothy grin, “aww that’s sweet, and this chocolate is so cool!”

At your exclaim he felt relief, “good, I’m glad it’s working.”

That made you pause, “glad it’s working? What does that mean? You haven’t tested it before?” You asked worried.

“That’s not what I meant, geez. You do that one time,” he mumbled as he went back to his small briefcase factory.

#willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #willy wonka fanfic #wonka fanfic #willy wonka fanfiction #wonka fanfiction #wonka 2023

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kedreeva · 2 months

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Okay, I haven't wanted to talk much about the peafowl lately, been just kinda dealing with Stan's passing, but! I have news I don't want to keep quiet, so here we go with a little announcement.

I've been helping a friend of mine with a bunch of peafowl genetics work lately, as he's trying to prove out a really neat phenotype of speckled and white peafowl that showed up in his breeding stock, and he just spent tens of thousands of dollars importing two new morphs from Europe: European violet (aka, my dream morph) and Ultramarine (pretty and only otherwise being produced by TWO breeders in the WORLD). When Bill heard about Stan, he asked if I was going to go to a large farm auction that's a few hours from my house. I don't, normally, since it's a few hours from my house and the auctions usually make me kinda sad when it comes to peafowl (they stress out SO MUCH) even though it's cool to see how much they're going for at a wider audience auction.

Then he told me he would be going, and that if I wanted to come down the day before the auction, he'd bring me another male, to replace Stan. I had already made plans to hang onto Bismuth, at least for a few years, and to pick up babies from Indie x Arcana/Eclipse this november, including a male, so I didn't really need another male, and don't have the cash for one anyway. He said no, he meant one of the split EUV males from last year's first-USA breeding. For free. As a thank you for helping him.

To put this into perspective, importing the birds is a ~$10k affair, per bird. I had fully resigned myself to never even SEEING one of these birds in person, much less ever owning one. Even if someone else got them imported, they would remain thousands of dollars for the first few years, and quickly become mixed with other stuff, potentially even be lost by people breeding to purple. He went in on a group import with another breeder and they have both just started selling the full-color birds for over $2k apiece (alongside Ultramarine, which before their import was bred by TWO people in the WORLD, and babies from that are going for almost $7k each, but EUV is more widely spread). Splits (like the one I will be getting) are being let go for $750. This is also the color I have desperately wanted since I first saw them 8-10 years ago (though I believe they've been around slightly longer), but that I had resigned myself to never actually having.

To put it mildly, I'm probably going to burst into tears when I see Bill and this bird. It's going to be super embarrassing. And then I'm going to have to build more pens. And then I'm going to have to get as plain-blue, pure-indian blue hens as I can find, and become one of the most serious curators of plain pure EUV in the US, because I know the other two who have them currently will be outcrossing to other patterns/colors immediately and the people buying them will likely be doing the same, and everyone will be clamoring to make them into high Spaldings ASAP, or won't know not to cross them to purples and wreck the color.

Here's the sire cock, the one imported:

You will notice that this bird is purple in full sun, from the sunny side. That's the main difference between European violet and US purple- a US purple looks blue until you get the right angle on the sun vs the bird vs the camera, and you have to get the bird between you and the sun, so the purple is often in the shadow side- visible to the eye but not the camera. EUV is just purple. Even from the sunny side!!

And the Ultramarine, in case you were wondering about their color:

(pics reposted w/ permission from Bill)

The breeder is Spring Creek Peafowl, and in case anyone is secretly a peafowl breeder or knows other peafowl breeders with too much money that want in on a new color morph, he DOES have UM pairs and EUV hens (and more split males) for sale currently, for less than the only other person in the US that has them. They're still pricey, but cheaper. I WISH I had the extra to have my friend add on an EUV hen, but alas, I will have to wait to make my own in a few years. Even just the opportunity to do so is something I never expected to have!

#peafowl #my pets #longfeather lane #cool cool cool i'm crying about it again #but listen I am OVERCOME with happiness okay #Can't wait to cry in the middle of a VERY public place over a bird #can i gofundme a bird?? is that allowed in their tos

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harunayuuka2060 · 4 months

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Levi: ...

Child MC: ...Levi?

Levi: A-Ah, yes. I'm sorry.

Child MC: *stares at him curiously*

Levi: Sh-Shouldn't you be with someone? It's dangerous to go out alone.

Child MC: I was with Mammon earlier and we got separated.

Levi: That idiot-

Levi: ...

Levi: Do you know the way back to the house of lamentation?

Child MC: *shakes their head*

Levi: W-Well then. I will take you there.

Child MC: *holds his hand*

Levi: !!!

Levi: What are you doing?

Child MC: There are many people.

Levi: R-Right. Don't let go of my hand or you'll be lost again.

Child MC: *nods*

Child MC and Levi: *have arrived*

Lucifer: Can't you remember where you left them?!

Mammon: No! I- MC! I have been looking for you!

Lucifer: Oh dear- *rushes towards them and carries them up*

Lucifer: Do you know how worried I was?

Child MC: Levi saw me in the street.

Lucifer: Thank you, Levi.

Levi: Yeah, yeah. Just be careful next time.

Child MC: Thank you, Levi. *smiles*

Levi: ...

Levi: *frowns* Don't smile like that! *runs to his room*

Child MC: ...

Child MC: *turns to Lucifer*

Child MC: Luci, did I do something wrong?

Lucifer: No. You didn't do anything.

Mammon: Yeah. Levi is always like that. Anyway, where were we?

Mammon: Don't leave my sight again!

Child MC: But you were the one who ran off...

Lucifer: Mammon.

Mammon: Eek!

Child MC: Beel, does Levi hate me?

Beel: Levi?

Beel: ...

Beel: No. I don't think he does. Why? Is he being mean to you?

Child MC: No. But he doesn't like it when I'm smiling at him.

Beel: ...

Beel: MC, you just need to understand him. Okay?

Beel: There's a reason why he's acting like that.

Child MC: Can't I know why?

Beel: Unfortunately, you can't. At least not for now.

Child MC: Okay.

Diavolo: Ah! My sweet child! How have you been?

Lucifer: They're doing fine, Diavolo.

Diavolo: *chuckles* You don't need to answer for them every single time, Lucifer. Right, MC?

Child MC: *nods*

Diavolo: Oh. By the way, can you guess why I'm here?

Child MC: You skipped work.

Lucifer: *laughs*

Diavolo: I-No. I mean, *clears throat* Papa Dia wants to take you on a vacation.

Lucifer: *immediately frowns* And where are you taking them?

Diavolo: To many fun and beautiful places?

Lucifer: *stern* Diavolo, they're starting school soon.

Diavolo: What do you mean by "school"? We already talked about this. They're taking private lessons.

Lucifer: I want to send them to a school in the human world.

Diavolo: That is infeasible. You can't be gone for long away in Devildom.

Lucifer: Yes. Yes, I can.

Child MC: ...

Child MC: *decided to leave them to their discussion*

Child MC: Levi?

Levi: *crying in "MC's" room* What are you doing here? This place is off-limits*

Child MC: I was on my way to my room.

Levi: *wipes away his tears* That doesn't explain why you're here.

Child MC: Why are you crying? *goes to sit next to him*

Levi: ...

Levi: I'm crying because I'm missing someone special to me.

Child MC: Oh. *sad frowns*

Levi: ...

Levi: You missed someone too?

Child MC: *nods* I'm wondering if he's alright. But it's Rapha so... he's probably fine.

Levi: ...

Levi: *pats their head* We're the same then. Our special someone left us.

Child MC: Is yours not coming back?

Levi: ...

Levi: Yes.

Barbatos: Hello, Luke.

Luke: I'm not here for pleasantries.

Barbatos: I'm aware.

Luke: Did you already forget about the agreement between the three worlds?

Luke: That no human should ever step Devildom again?

Barbatos: I'm afraid there was never an agreement like that.

Luke: But you had acknowledged it!

Barbatos: Yes. However, the young master strongly went against it.

Barbatos: I am merely a servant. My opinion doesn't matter to him.

Luke: ...

Luke: I shouldn't have believed your words then.

Barbatos: My apologies, Luke.

Luke: ...

Luke: I will continue to keep an eye on you. Remember that.

Barbatos: I will. *then watches him leave*

Barbatos: ...

Barbatos: It will never be the same anymore.

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me mc #obey me levi #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me mammon #obey me beel #obey me luke

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fatuismooches · 9 months

Text

a lesson in happiness.

Kabukimono did not know the day of his creation.

It was already a sad thing, you thought, to not have been given a name at birth. Much less to not know the day you were first brought into this world. To not have a birthday. Though Kabukimono initially didn’t care, due to having no knowledge of the concepts of birthdays at first, seeing other villagers celebrate their own caused him to be excited about his birthday, and then be crushed by the realization that he didn’t have one.

He acted like it didn’t hurt him. But it did. And it hurt you too. Though, you had an idea.

January third. That was the day Katsuragi and the others found the puppet lying inside Shakkei Pavilion. It wasn’t his day of birth, but still an important day. A day when he was found. Seen. And you wanted Kabukimono to feel special, just like every human does, on a day of the year. So you devised a little plan. It wasn’t anything grand of course, no, you didn’t have the Mora for that. But to Kabukimono, he would probably think you may have just given him a five-star course anyway. You hadn’t told him about this yet, as you wanted it to be a surprise.

The first step was baking a cake, which wasn’t as simple as one would think.

Kabukimono was always open to trying new human foods, but surprisingly, he did not enjoy sweets. You’ll never forget the screwed-up expression on his face when you introduced him to dango. He tried to speak while eating it but it sounded all jumbled up because his teeth were stuck together. It was quite adorable.

So therefore, you had to make sure that the cake wasn’t too sweet and also tasted good at the same time. Admittedly, it wasn’t easy, and it took you a good amount of tries. Not to mention Kabukimono was constantly glued at your hip so it was hard to find time to do it so he wouldn’t find out about the surprise. But at last, you had done it. It was light, fluffy, and yummy, with not too much sugar so you hoped Kabukimono would find it delicious.

The second thing was to acquire a gift. It was hard to think of something to get your lover. It felt like, no matter what you gave him, it wouldn’t be enough. No matter how much it was (not that you had the money for that anyway.) But you had settled on something simple but pretty - you had commissioned someone in the village to produce a lovely, handmade comb for you. It was beautiful, sturdy and practical, and the best part it had your and Kabukimono’s initials carved into it with a plus sign.

Kabukimono always loved it when you brushed his hair. It had become a nightly and morning routine actually. Every night you’d brush out the knots that may have accumulated during the day. And in the morning you’d brush out any tangles he may have gotten in his sleep. You took care of his silky princessy hair better than your own. So you think he’d appreciate this comb especially, for when he had to brush his hair when you weren’t around.

Regardless, you were set and prepared to make Kabukimono’s first birthday with you a success. The night before, you were trying to hide your giddiness, but it seemed like you weren’t the only one. Kabukimono kept looking at you with shy eyes, to which you smiled and came to hug him from behind, wrapping your arms around him.

“Something you want to say, love?” You asked, nuzzling your face into his neck. He blushed a little bit.

“I was just thinking a bit.”

“About? Perhaps little old me?”

“Yes,” he said honestly. “But also about tomorrow. It was the day I…” The puppet’s memory was always sharp, you noticed. Of course he wouldn’t forget about such a notable day.

“The day Katsuragi and the others found you,” you finished. “And the day I met you,” you softly pressed a kiss against his cheek.

“You remembered!” Kabukimono beamed.

“Of course I did,” you chuckled. “How could I forget about the love of my life?” You squeezed him tighter and pulled him down, both of you falling together onto the futon as giggles filled the air. “I can’t believe it’s already been a year,” you sighed nostalgically. To think time would pass so fast.

“I remember it so clearly. Like it was yesterday…” The puppet drifted off as he buried his face in your chest. “So many things have happened since then. Sometimes I can’t believe it.”

“Me either,” you agreed, stroking his hair. “I’m quite happy to have been able to be with you for this long though.”

“Me too, [Name]! You’ve always made my days so much better,” he reached up to kiss your cheek and you grinned, cupping his face and pulling him in for another. Intimate moments like this were always lovely.

… But you knew for Kabukimono, this would eventually become nothing but a drop in the eternity that would stretch on endlessly for him.

—

It was Kabukimono’s birthday today.

That was the first thing you thought when you cracked your eyes open. You turned to face your lover and there he was, sleeping peacefully, snuggled into your shoulder. Stunning, as usual. For someone who didn’t need to sleep, he sure seemed to enjoy it. Though you hoped that today he’d stay asleep by himself for a while now. He always seemed to know when you left the futon and would soon follow you. So this time you placed a pillow for him to snuggle into instead. Hopefully, that’d keep him at bay for a bit until you finished baking the cake. You already knew the process like the back of your hand so it wouldn’t be too long.

… Unfortunately, Kabukimono was awake and pouting at you in the kitchen before you finished, the baked cake lying on the counter to cool while you had just finished whisking the icing.

“[Name], what are you doing up so early?” He whined, rubbing his eyes and sleepily making his way over to you. As he got closer he squinted at the stuff on the cupboard. “Are you making a cake? Is it someone’s birthday?”

Looks like the jig was up. “Yes, indeed. It’s for someone very important,” you hummed, as you began to spread the frosting over the layers of cake. Kabukimono blinked at you, trying to figure out who it could be. January third… January third. Not Niwa, nor Katsuragi… Kinjirou? No, not him either.

“Who?”

“You, silly.” There was a pause after your words as your lover stared at you blankly, processing your words.

“What? I-I don’t understand, [Name],” the puppet looked at you with a perplexed expression. You merely smiled back in response.

“A year ago today, when we all found you, you became part of this village’s family. You became irreplaceable to all of us. Especially me,” you uttered softly, looking straight into his eyes. “It may not have been the day you were brought into this world, but instead a day you were introduced to the world. A fitting day for a birthday, no? And I’d love to celebrate it with you… as long as it’s okay with you, dear.”

Kabukimono was stunned into near silence. “Is that… really possible? Can I really do that?”

“Of course you can. There are no rules.” Within seconds, a large smile appeared on Kabukimono’s face.

“January third… my birthday. My birthday! I actually have one now!” He looked so joyful, that it would make anyone smile. The puppet felt as though he was a little bit more human now.

“Indeed you do! Now, go get ready. We’re going out soon. There’s a really pretty spot I want to take you.” At this point, Kabukimono was practically jumping in excitement.

“Thank you so much [Name]! I love you so much!” He threw his hands around you quickly and then released you to go off and get changed.

“Love you… too.” Before you could even finish your sentence he was already out of the room. You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself as you retrieved a basket to place the cake and other small foods in.

Today was going to be an excellent day.

—

Kabukimono was too thrilled to walk at a normal pace, so the two of you were virtually running to the spot you had picked out. Thankfully the food was okay. Once the two of you had settled down at the scenic spot, the puppet marveled at the snacks and most importantly, the cake. It had been a hit with him, considering how he gobbled it down before you even finished your first slice. You made a mental note to make more non-sweet pastries for him.

Not to mention how over the moon he was when you finally presented his gift, the comb. He couldn’t stop staring and fiddling with it, despite the fact there was really not much to see after a few minutes. Regardless, he asked you to comb his hair with it while he played with the finches and squirrels that had somehow shown up in his lap.

It really was a beautiful day, a birthday well celebrated. Now, it was going to be the evening time soon, so you two began to make it back to your home. Kabukimono wanted to cuddle in bed with you and read some stories. But when you arrived, you had one more surprise for your lover.

“There’s one last thing for you.”

“There’s even more?” Kabukimono looked at you with pure awe and adoration, making your heart squeeze.

“Yup! Though this one… it’s something for both of us, kind of. You’ll see. Wait here!” And with that you were running off, leaving the puppet confused and intrigued. But in no time you were back, carrying something.

It was… a tree? With the bottom of it contained in a bag with soil.

“[Name], you got us a tree?”

“Not just any tree, love. A Lavender Melon tree,” you grinned, setting the plant down with a huff. “You know what that means?”

“… We’re going to grow our own Lavender Melons!” The boy launched himself at you and you almost toppled over, but you gladly accepted his affection. “Oh but, how do we take care of it? I’ve never done something like this before!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take it step by step. It’s not easy, but it’ll be rewarding and fun! Here, would you help me plant it now?” The puppet eagerly agreed and you two got to work finding a nice spot for your new tree and shoveling the ground (which Kabukimono insisted on doing himself despite it being his birthday.) Soon enough, the fruit tree was tucked firmly into the ground and watered. Kabukimono looked rather proud.

“I’ve never seen a tree this short. So this is how they look before they’re all grown up.”

“This one isn’t even that tiny. I’ve seen saplings much smaller. Though, maybe if you sing to it, it’ll grow faster.”

“Really? Is that true?!” Kabukimono was now staring at you with wide, impressed eyes. Before you could even respond, he spoke again. “Well, I’ll sing as much as it wants every day.” Your eyes softened at his declaration. You couldn’t wait to hear that.

“But [Name], how long will it take to bear some Lavender Melons?”

“Well, it’s going to be a long journey. We might see some in a few years from now.”

“Oh, that isn’t too far away! How juicy do you think our melons will be? I can’t wait!”

Your heart felt a prick of pain at his words. A few years, a blink of an eye for Kabukimono, but ages for you. His perception of time was so different from yours, the more time you spent with him, the more it hurt you badly to think of how it would scar him in the future.

“But [Name], why did you get this tree in the first place? We can always buy Lavender Melons from the market.” His innocent voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Today was a happy day for both of you. It was rude to think such things today of all days.

“You’re right, we can. But I just thought it would be nice to raise something together.”

“Raise something?”

“Yes. Human life is beautiful, but so is the life of nature, animals, and things around us. It’s a nice feeling to be able to nourish and take care of something. Perhaps later on we can get a cat too. What do you think?” You expected a response but you received nothing.

“Kabuki-” You froze mid-sentence when you saw your lover’s face.

Kabukimono was crying.

“Oh Kabukimono, what’s wrong?” You immediately went to embrace and comfort him. “You can talk to me.” The only problem was that Kabukimono himself did not know where these tears came from. This whole day had been so incredible and joyous, so why was he crying?

The only experience he had with tears were moments when it felt like his chest had been pierced and left with a gaping hole. When he was abandoned. When he sat alone in Shakkei Pavilion, his whole body ached as he believed himself to be tossed out like trash. So why…? Why was he crying when you were being so kind to him…?

“I- I don’t know,” he croaked. “It just came out of nowhere,” he wept into your chest. You were silent for a bit, stroking his hair before you spoke.

“Tears are not only a sign of sadness, Kabukimono. They are also for anger, surprise, jealousy, fear… but most importantly, happiness. If I may take a little guess here… you are feeling so much happiness, you became a bit overwhelmed,” you gently explained, wiping his tears with your fingers and sleeves. Kabukimono looked at you with teary eyes. “Am I right, love?”

The puppet looked down, contemplating your words and trying to understand his own emotions. You were right. Though there was a tinge of sadness in his chest, all he could think about was how grateful he was to have you. His light, his support. The one who gave him a second chance after he thought he was useless, the one who gave him worth and meaning to himself and this world.

“Happy birthday, Kabukimono. May we spend many more together.”

The puppet’s heart felt oddly at ease at your words, and he slowly nodded as he enjoyed the homely warmth your embrace provided.

He thought you would be right.

lesson 1. lesson 2. lesson 3. lesson 4. lesson 5. lesson 6. lesson 7. lesson 8. lesson 9. lesson 10. bonus lesson.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kabukimono x reader #wanderer fluff #scaramouche fluff #kabukimono #scaramouche headcanons #scaramouche #wanderer #kunikuzushi #scaramouche genshin #wanderer genshin #scaramouche fanfic #scaramouche angst #wanderer angst

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mindtrcks · 1 year

Text

oh, dilute me

Pairing: Tyler Galpin/Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: AFAB reader, manipulation, light d/s

Summary: Tyler can’t have Wednesday, but he might still be able to have you

So Wednesday knows. So Wednesday was bound to figure it out, because she’s nothing if not stubborn, and Tyler stood no chance against the Addams’ family values that have been instilled in her. The values that tell her not to trust, and not to forget, and certainly not to give up. So Tyler can’t have Wednesday.

But he might still be able to have you.

He keeps the act up in the police station; it’s clear Wednesday’s not buying it, but you keep avoiding his gaze and biting the inside of your cheek and he thinks he still has you on the line. You’re not tense and sharp like Wednesday, not glaring at him from across the room. You’re still making yourself small, still staring mostly at the ground, remaining silent while Wednesday takes the blame for everything. While Wednesday gets expelled. While Wednesday gets out of the picture.

She’s seething when Tyler’s dad finally steps away, you standing by her side looking like you don’t know what to do. Wednesday has lost . Tyler’s sure that was never in the cards when you followed her to that shed. And now you’re out of your depth. Torn between your friend who's supposed to know everything and the guy who’s supposed to be a murderer, and Tyler knows you like him far more than you could ever like Wednesday. He stands up from the bench he’d been occupying and walks toward you, keeping his shoulders hunched and his eyes skirting. He’s gotten good at playing the victim, at garnering sympathy. Your eyes zero in on him immediately, he can hear your sharp intake of breath.

He says your name once he’s close enough, whispered and reverent and betrayed. Your lips press together like you’re holding back tears , and isn’t that something? Doesn’t that mean that he’s won you, too?

Your eyes flick to Wednesday, worry clear on your face, but Wednesday doesn’t look at you. She doesn’t soothe your doubts or reassure you that you did the right thing. And that’s her first mistake, because that’s what you need. You need somebody to look you in the eye and say it’s alright , to hold your hands and tell you that you’re good . Tyler’s known that about you since the first time you walked into the Weathervane, with a small voice and fleeting gaze. Tyler’s known that about you since before he knew your name.

“This isn’t over,” Wednesday says, staring up at him with those same dead eyes as always. The sad part is that she believes it, believes there’s some way she can win, still. But Tyler’s got the police, and Tyler’s got the school, and now Tyler’s on his way to having you, and Wednesday isn’t even putting up a fight. It’s pathetic.

She walks past him, shoulder checks him as she does, and he winces for effect. He’s still battered and bruised from Wednesday’s torture, but the pain is nothing to what he’s felt before. You don’t need to know that, though. You’re still standing in front of him, watching Wednesday walk away, and Tyler side-steps until he’s the only thing in your view, waiting patiently until you finally look in his eyes.

It really does look like you’re about to cry. He’d do anything to see the tears fall. “I’m sorry,” you say, your voice shaky and soft. “I should’ve trusted you, I don’t know why—”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, grabbing your hands. Instantly, they stop shaking, and a pretty pink blush spreads across your face. You’re so much easier than Wednesday; Tyler could have made this all go so much smoother if he’d never let Wednesday get under his skin. If he’d looked past the glamor of the shiny new toy to see you behind her, ready to be pushed, ripe for the taking. He sees you now, though, a delicate flower trusting him to hold it, trusting him not to crush it in his palms. “I know how convincing she can be.”

You look down, embarrassed, maybe, or just still not able to hold eye contact with him. “I should’ve stopped her anyway,” you mutter, pulling your hands out of his and towards your own chest.

Your guilt is thick in the air and Tyler knows he’ll be able to milk that for ages; instead of reassuring you again, he just ducks his head down, revels in the way you instinctively step forward. “It’s over now,” he says, letting his eyes skirt up to your face. “Do you want a ride back to Nevermore?”

You trust him enough to get in a car with him; Tyler wonders what else he can get you to do.

—

He’s fighting Enid in the woods when he realizes he has to make a choice.

There’s no way he wins this; even if he snapped Enid’s neck and left her for dead, he wouldn’t walk out of these woods a winner. Because after Enid, he’d have to go through Wednesday, have to go through the principal, have to go through anybody else who's been convinced of his guilt, and by the time he was done with that, he’d already be in a prison cell. So if he wants to win, if he wants to leave this mess behind him and walk away a free man, an innocent man, he has to make a choice.

Enid gets a paw at him, and he lets himself be pushed into a tree, lets his head hit the cold bark, lets himself slide down until he’s shivering and naked on the leaves, and Enid’s staring at him with wide eyes.

“Tyler,” she says, cautiously, both of them human again now. She ducks down to pick up a stick, holds it out like it’s a sword. “Stay right where you are. I’m not afraid to use this thing.”

He blinks up at her, intending to look confused and out of it. “Enid?” he asks. “What the hell is going on?”

She narrows her eyes, but lowers the stick anyway, and Tyler knows that he’s going to get away with this.

—

He stumbles out of the woods wrapped in a bright pink coat, eyes scanning the crowd of disgruntled students as he looks for something he can latch onto.

Of course you’re the first person he sees.

He hasn’t had time to think about how he’s going to play this yet, but when he spots you standing there, staring at him with wide eyes and fingers twitching at your sides, he gets an idea. He pulls the coat further around himself, makes sure he’s shaking enough for it to be visible as he approaches you. He watches as you take him in, cataloging the scrapes and bruises, the dirt on his skin. He says your name, and your eyes flick to his face. “I—” he starts, ready to rattle off something untrue and pitiful, something that’ll make your gaze soften, that’ll make you reach out to touch him.

But you’re interrupting him before he can, stepping forward and jutting up your chin. “It’s over now,” you say, echoing his words in the police station, and he freezes. Tries to scan through his memory to find what he got wrong, because he had you, he knows he had you, why are you—

His careening train of thought is once more cut off when you take both of his hands in your own—you have a thing for stealing his moves, evidently. “I don’t want to know,” you say, looking grim. Looking like you really already do know. Tyler’s panicking a little; this is his last card to play, and if you don’t believe him, and Wednesday doesn’t believe him, then nobody will. He furrows his brows, doesn’t have to fake the confusion in his eyes. “Whatever lie you’re spinning,” you continue. “I don’t want to hear. Save it for the police.”

And that’s not what Tyler was expecting. But he can work with it. Right? Sure, maybe you know more than he thought. Maybe you don’t trust him the way you were pretending to. But you’re still here. You’re still holding his hands, fingers on his pulse point, and standing close enough that your hips are touching his. You’re not what he thought, but you’re not as bad as you could be; you’re not Wednesday, who's already glaring from across the crowd. You’re not on your way back to the station, ready to tell the whole world that Wednesday was right.

You’re here, with him.

—

His story is that it was all Thornhill. She manipulated him, tricked him into killing people and he didn’t know anything about any of it.

You’re next to him in the police station as he gives the official statement to his dad. He’s wearing your clothes—pajamas you’d rummaged through your dorm room for while he stood in the doorway, not knowing what to say or how to act. He still doesn't. He doesn't know what you know or what you’re thinking or what your plan is. But he knows you’re here, and for now that’s the only thing he really cares about. He gives the statement, lets his dad hug him and apologize, rattle on about how it’s his fault.

And then he looks at you. He doesn't know where he's supposed to go next, what he's supposed to do next. But he does know that wherever you go, he'll follow.

—

Six months later, and he's enrolled at Nevermore.

The general student population leaves him be; in a school for outcasts, he's not the strangest one there. He can skirt by without being noticed by most. Fly under the radar, go unrecognized. People who don't remember what happened, who weren't there that night in the woods, assume he's a wolf; they don't question why there has to be a special set of chains for him in the nurse’s office. They don't question anything.

There are a few exceptions. They come mostly in the form of Wednesday’s friends. They look at him like they're sorry for him, sorry that he's there, sorry for what he is, or sorry that they locked him in a shed and tortured him not even a year ago. It makes Tyler’s skin crawl, their pity, their guilt. It's like he's the one who's supposed to absolve them, and he's got no interest in doing that. But he supposes it's better than them knowing . Anything would be better than them knowing.

The only people who know are you and Wednesday. The latter reacts about how he would expect; she glares at him in classes they share, calls him a monster in the hallways for everybody to hear. She avoids spending any time with him at all unless she has to, and she rarely has to. She hates him, that much is clear, but Tyler doesn't mind. It seems like she's given up on trying to convict him, which is all he really cared about. She's moved on to bigger things. In a place like this, with people like him, there's always a monster to hunt. For Wednesday, Tyler is last year’s obsession.

For you, the story is different.

Because you know. He knows you know; how could you not? You know what he did and you know all the things he lied about, and you know how he's still lying now. But you don't seem to mind. You act like nothing's changed. You spend your weekends in his dorm, your free periods sitting with your legs tangled up in his. You brush your fingers over his cheekbones, smirk and whisper things under your breath that only he can hear. If his life was once sink or swim, now the only thing he can do is drown in you. He's wearing your clothes more often than he wears own; he's with you more often than he’s not.

He knows he should be concerned. He's supposed to have the upper hand over you, supposed to make your cheeks flush and your words tumble out of your mouth. But he’s increasingly finding that the opposite is true. One look from you and he forgets everything he's ever taught himself about not getting attached, about the danger of distractions. If you say run, he says how far , if you say jump, he'll ask how high?

He doesn't do anything without thinking of you; he does everything hoping it’ll make you happy.

“Like this?” he asks, crooking his fingers as you’d instructed. You sigh and press your face into his shoulder, nodding against his skin. He's best at pleasing you like this, at taking you apart under his hands. He brushes your hair out of your face and presses deeper, harder, reveling in the way you gasp. He’s always done anything to get you stay; if only he knew back when he met you that this is what it takes.

You lift a hand to push at his, say, “ Okay ,” all out of breath, and he knows immediately to stop, eyes flicking up at you, waiting for direction. “Okay, Tyler. I want your mouth now.”

He makes a pitiful sound that he would've been embarrassed about a year ago, but doesn't think twice of now as he pushes himself further down the bed, lifts your legs up and over his shoulders. You’re already wet; he’s been fingering you for God knows how long, but he would’ve kept going until his fingers cramped up if you wanted him to. He’s glad you didn’t. He likes tasting you so much better, and he wastes no time getting to work now that he’s got permission.

You’ve said before he eats you out like he’s starved for it. Maybe he is. As he licks at you, your thighs trapping him in place and your hand pulling ever-so-slightly where it's buried in his hair, he feels as though his taste for blood has been replaced with a taste for you. Maybe that was your plan all along, get him addicted to this so he won’t do that again. If it was, it’s working. You’re the only person he’ll kill for now.

“Just like that,” he hears you breath out, your hips lifting up to grind into his face. He squeezes his eyes shut, moves his tongue faster. His own hips are searching for friction against the bedsheets, but it’s fruitless. You still haven’t touched him, and he knows he won't be able to come until you do. He can’t find it in himself to be frustrated, though, not when you’re letting him do this. Not when he can hear you gasping above him, when he can feel you wet against his lips.

He’s done this enough times that he can tell when you’re about to come. You grip at the sheets, your hand in his hair tightening enough to sting. He can feel your legs tense up, your thighs quiver. But what gives it away are the little punched-out moans that start tearing out of your mouth, loud enough they almost sound like sobs. Tyler hums against you, shifts the angle so work his tongue inside you and nose at your clit.

At that, you cry out, shaking underneath him, and he knows you’ve finished, but he doesn't stop, doesn’t pull away until you sink back into the bed and brush your knuckles over his cheekbone. When you pull him up to kiss him all slow and sweet, there are tear tracks on your cheeks.

He once thought he'd give anything to see you cry; turns out, all he had to give was himself.

#wednesday #tyler galpin #tyler galpin x reader #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #i did the thing #this is what people post on tumblr right #reader insert #i also posted this on ao3 it isn't plagiarism i swear

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cannibalbuffe · 2 months

Note

hi! I've honestly been craving some qpr headcanons with Alastor as someone who's also aroace! The concept piques my curiosity so much considering most of the stuff with him is purely romantic (no offense to those writers, I just wanna see more qpr stuff! :])

Of course! But do forgive me, annon, I got so carried away with this 😅. I just really like Alastor a lot.

I ended up writing some backstory to your relationship first, but I highlighted the start of the proper qpr headcanons if you feel like skipping that.

Obligatory I'm sorry if this is ooc, I'm still getting used to writing about these characters. This is also all based on my own perception of him.

(Also, I am aware that qprs are very different from one another and there is no single mold for a qpr, I'm just going off of what I think it would be like with Alastor.)

Uhh, I also finished this at 1 AM, so forgive any mistakes. And I'm pretty sure I changed the verb conjugations(? Is this how you say that in English?) from present to past at some point. Sorry. Enough with the A/Ns now. Hope you enjoy!

Alastor queerplatonic relationship headcanons

(gender neutral reader, Alastor x reader)

‼️Trigger-warning‼️: mentions of cannibalism (not graphic), a single mention of tongue-kissing and making out (spoiler: he doesn't want either of those things in this work.) Usage of the word queer, but not as a slur. Alastor is a grandpa and you have to explain LGBTQ+ stuff to him, but he gets it.

› At first, before you were close, it's likely that he didn't see you as an equal.

› Truly, in his eyes, it seems not really is his equal. He is the most powerful overlord in hell and he knows it.

› Unless you are someone he holds in high regard (and this is mostly based on vibes, barely anything to do with power, as we can see by how he is with Lucifer of all people) before your first meeting, like Zestial, you won't be on equal footing at first.

› You only really start getting close when his perception of you shifts.

› You respect his boundaries, you are interesting, you and him share quite a few interests (or not really, but you're at least interested in hearing about his), and you're, surprisingly, pretty wise and mature.

› And caring. I personally believe he would be drawn to that in a way that he may not even understand fully- or realize it at all.

› Still, the point is. He respects you, and you respect him.

› (And not in the way some others do, where they're only "respectful" out of fear. You would act like this regardless of his power.)

› This, by the way, is important. You don't treat him like a superior, but as an equal.

› You'd think someone like him would love to be treated like a superior, and it's true. He very much does.

› But he has to admit to himself that it does feel nice whenever someone isn't shaking in their boots and can hold really good conversations with him while still not being pushy, annoying or just generally disrespectful.

› Anyways.

› Ever since you became friends (which took long), one could say, you just kept becoming closer and closer.

› You were the first one to be vulnerable with him, of course. It happened on accident, but you trusted him enough for that.

› You were also the first one to share any more intimate information with him. Something you wouldn't tell just anyone.

› Between this, your conversations, and maybe even helping each other around (honestly, he probably helps you more than you do him, but you always offer it and always in a sweet way, never condescending, and he appreciates that.)

› He eventually felt more comfortable sharing personal things with you too.

› (He may have distanced himself a bit when he realized this, but it was short-lived. You can't be without each other for so long, and you were pretty upset at his suddenly withdrawal. You may not have mentioned it to him, but he could tell, and as much as he hated to admit it, it hurt him to see you sad because of him.)

› This marks the beginning of the path toward your queerplatonic relationship.

› I mean, you didn't initially label it as such, but it definitely started there.

› Surprisingly, I feel like the first one to ever do any sort of affectionate gesture towards the other was him.

› You knew he didn't like to be touched, so you didn't.

› But! He just started getting more and more comfortable with touching you. At first it was hands on your shoulders, or putting his arm over them.

› I can even see a head pat or two, which he probably passed off as some sort of joke the first few times, but, if you liked them so much, just became a thing he does to you.

› And then one day you, completely absent-mindedly, intertwined your arm with his while walking around.

› When you noticed you had done it and he hadn't said anything, you questioned him about it.

› "Alastor, I'm sorry I didn't ask... is this alright?"

› "This?... Oh, you mean the arms? Ah, dear, don't worry, if it weren't I would have simply told you so!"

› From them on you only got more and more physically affectionate with each other. At first you would usually be the one to start it, but eventually you were both shockingly equal in doing so.

› (You still would always ask if you could touch him beforehand, but after a while he just gave you a free-pass.)

› Not a lot in public, though. Mostly just hand holding, or intertwining arms (if in public, that is.)

› Alastor also was so protective of you. You were the person he treasured most, after all.

› Well, demon.

› Even if you told him you were going to be okay, he would watch out nonetheless. He couldn't afford to lose you, not when he's never trusted and cared for a person this much.

› You two also cuddle a lot. You were the first one to ask, as usual, but now both of you feel weird sleeping alone.

› Alastor loves being the big spoon, if you're doing that.

› But he is also quite fond of occasionally being the little spoon, although he wouldn't be caught dead admitting it.

› A hobby you two do together is cooking. Cooking with Alastor is fun... especially if you're okay with cannibalism.

› But if you don't like that, he won't insist, of course.

› He's pretty good at cooking, though! If you're also good at it, then great. If not, he'll tease you about it (in a friendly way), but still teach you.

› On teasing, he teases you quite a bit, but never in a mean way. If you don't mind, of course.

› You also may tease him occasionally, but he doesn't appreciate you teasing him in public.

› The two of you also have a good amount of inside jokes that probably confuse the hell out of the others.

› Kissing... well. I don't really see Alastor as the type who would enjoy kissing on the lips too much.

› Tongue is out of question for him, as well as any sort of making out, but otherwise... if you like it, he can do that for you.

› He might actually like a peck or two. An acquired taste for him. Don't overdo it, though.

› Of course, him being from the 1930s and not very familiar with anything LGBTQ+ related, he would, at first, be somewhat confused by the request.

› You would probably have to explain to him that nothing is inherently romantic, especially not if you don't want it to be.

› "A kiss on the lips? Well... we aren't courting, Y/n."

› "We can put our own meanings to things, though. Would you like this kiss to be romantic?"

› "Definitely not!"

› "Well, me neither. So it's not!"

› "... That is very sound logic! I can't believe I've never thought of this myself."

› Kisses on the rest of the face are something else, though. He does enjoy it whenever you kiss him on the cheek. He himself might occasionally kiss you on the forehead.

› But overall I don't think he's big on kissing.

› If you want to really solidify that you're in a queerplatonic relationship you'd also have to explain what that means to him, sorry.

› Again, he's old and not up to date with things.

› Thankfully he understands things easily.

› "I see... I suppose we do have quite the queer relationship, don't we? And it is certainly platonic. I don't see why not!"

› Going back to vulnerability. It will never feel fully natural for him to just be vulnerable with you — or anyone else, for the matter.

› (In case you couldn't tell, he's using the word queer as meaning odd (and doing a little pun. You know. Because it's a. Queerplatonic relationship. Queer. Hehehehe), as it defies the norm of what a platonic relationship usually looks like, despite being one.)

› But you know him well enough at this point to recognize whenever there's something going on with him.

› And if you show concern and give him enough time he will share whatever it is with you.

› If it's not anything too big he might even reach out to you first.

› He can also read you like a book and gives surprisingly good advice, and is also pretty good at comforting you.

› You are the only person allowed at his studio while he's live on the radio. You usually read as he speaks in the background, his voice is very relaxing. He enjoys having you around.

› He's also particularly gentlemanly to you, more than to the others. When you're with him you never have to open a single door yourself, for one. If it's raining, he'll hold the umbrella for the two of you. When walking together on the sidewalk, he's always on the side closest to the street instead of you.

› You two often go out for dinner. If you also fancy some cannibalism, he will definitely show you his favorite restaurants around. If not he will just pick the best non-cannibal places (but you know those are not his favorites, haha.)

› He just cares about you a lot, even if it took him long to admit (it may have seemed fast-paced during this, but Alastor is someone who really takes long to get close to.)

› And you care about him lot too!

› (And you're probably never going to be in a life-threatening situation again, at least not at the hands of most demons. Who would ever want trouble with Alastor?)

#alastor x reader #platonic alastor x reader #queerplatonic alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #headcanons #buffet tag

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todayisawthewhxlewxrld · 4 months

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Ok. I have a request took me a lot of courage to finally request and shat myself a couple times but anyway! A one shot where choso lives in y/ns dorm with them and he was like doing his hair and kept messing up and gave up and started crying (I FEEL LIKE THATS SOMETHING HED DO THE POOR BOY:() thennnn y/n walks in their dorm and sees him crying and then comforts him and does his hair for him!!

IF THAT AIN'T LOVE THEN I DON'T KNOW WHAT LOVE IS!

synopsis// choso is having an off day.

➚ pairing// choso x gn!reader ➚ word count// 1.4k

contents// frustrated/sad choso? idk just some hurt/comfort in a way! fluff?? could be read as either platonic or romantic doesnt really matter i supposeeee? i think it kinda reads more romantic tho

notes// anon ur actual fucking MIND. i was moved. literally right after reading ur request i opened up my notes and went to fucking WORKKK!!!! anyway sorry its so kinda all over the place but i hope u like it and it lived up to ur expectations!! n also sorry to everyone else for posting a oneshot mid smau its short n cute okay (AND ITS FUCKING CHOSO SO LIKE CMON???) i couldnt help myself !! also the title is lyrics from cupid's chokehold by gym class heroes... okay bye!

Sharing a dorm with Choso was heavenly.

Because of your conflicting schedules, half the time, you rarely actually saw each other. But even when you did, he was the type of roommate to keep to himself; he has his side of the room, and you have yours. Of course, you two talked here and there; he was actually pretty nice company whenever you two were actually in the room at the same time. But more often than not, the only time you would see him was late at night when you were just getting in to go to sleep.

Either way, the point is, you never really saw him around much. Choso was always quick and effective, so by the time you would head back to your dorm after a few of your classes, he would just be heading out or have already left.

Usually, his alarm would go off an hour before his classes, which is ample time for him. He’s done his routine hundreds of times before—doing his hair and eyeliner is practically muscle memory, and at this point he's sure he could do it in his sleep. but not today, apparently. Today his alarm goes off late—half an hour late. Which Choso isn’t panicked by, only slightly frustrated, but it's fine. That still leaves him another half an hour to get ready, so there's still plenty of time given that it only takes him 10–15 minutes to get ready, so it's fine. Everything is fine; he repeats it in his head like a mantra, like if he thinks it and says it enough, he’ll actually believe it.

Choso quickly dresses, then sits at his desk, where a little mirror sits. He sighs as he flips on a lamp and grabs his eyeliner. He doesn’t even have to think about it, instinctively taking the cap off and bringing it to his eye, only for it to crumble as it meets his waterline. Choso cusses under his breath as he blinks, attempting to get whatever fell into his eye out. When that doesn't work, he rubs his eye, only for it to spread eyeliner all across his eye and cheek. He groans, grabbing a cloth to wipe it off with, and once his face is clean, he doesn't even bother trying with his eyeliner again—looking at the time, he’s already wasted more than he wanted doing that. He’ll just do his hair and leave, or else he’ll be late.

Choso stills for a moment, forcing himself to take a deep breath to try and calm the nerves and frustration simmering beneath his skin—it's fine. He nods. Now somewhat calmer, he grabs his hair ties and gets to work… only for one of them to break as he’s trying to put his hair through it. Choso stares at himself in the mirror, eyes narrowed and swallowing harshly, as he desperately tries to ignore the rising heat going to his cheeks.

Whatever.

It's fine.

He’ll just do the other side of his hair...only for the same thing to happen. Choso can actively feel his heart racing—it's pounding against his chest and ringing in his ears—and he’s already too far gone to notice or even stop the tears from falling down his cheeks. He doesn’t really know why he’s actually crying, if he’s being honest. It’s not like this is the end of the world; he knows that, yet he can't stop himself. Too many things have gone wrong, and he’s barely woken up. First, his alarm goes off late, which isn't the most horrible thing within itself, but then his eyeliner crumbles and gets in his eye, and when he tries to wipe it away, it instead smears on his face. Then he rubs his face raw, trying to get it off, and now he can't do his fucking hair because his hair ties suddenly decided to disintegrate and snap in half.

He messily wipes at his tears and tries inhaling deeply for air in a feeble attempt to calm himself the tiniest bit down. It doesn't do anything. In fact, it makes things worse. His tears fall harder, and he’s choking in shallow breaths of air. If anyone walked in right this moment, they’d think something horrible happened, like one of his brothers died. and it's just his luck, or a very obvious lack thereof, when you walk in. Choso immediately starts scrambling to wipe his tears away and hide his face from you as you drop your things in shock—you hadn’t expected him to still be in the dorm, let alone be here crying.

“Holy shit, Choso, are you okay? What's wrong? Did something happen?” You panic, immediately running to his side.

He doesn’t say anything; he just takes in and lets out shaky breaths as he shakes his head, one arm outstretched to keep you at arm's length.

You frown and look around. For what? You’re not sure. Part of you thinks if you look hard enough, you'll find why he’s crying, but all you see are snapped hair ties, a crumbled, unsharpened eyeliner pencil, and a cloth full of eyeliner. That’s when it all starts to make sense. You smile softly at him, who's still hiding his red tear-stained face from you, before you grab his comb and a new pair of hair ties from his desk.

Choso doesn’t know what you're doing when he hears you shuffling around, and he refuses to meet your gaze, filled to the brim with embarrassment at having been caught crying, but his head involuntarily snaps up, looking at you through the mirror, when he feels you start to brush his hair. You're already staring back at him and flashing him a warm smile, not saying a word as you continue to detangle his hair.

“You don't have to do this,” he sniffles, finally calming down enough to say something.

"I know I don't," you shrug. "But I also know it sucks when it seems like nothing is working or going to plan, so..."

"I can do it myself-“

"Choso, just let me do this for you, please.”

He stares at you for a moment, studying your face as if trying to find something, and when he finds nothing but your soft eyes and willingness—your desire—to do this for him, he sighs and nods. You beam and gleefully get back to work on his hair, and Choso finds that he’s no longer embarrassed by being seen crying but rather by the fact he feels like a doll—but the worst part? It's kind of nice.

He likes having someone do this for him with no hesitation; he likes the way your fingers carefully rake through his hair to ensure there's no tangles even though you just combed it; he likes the way you don't tie the ponytails too tight like he usually does, which only results in a pounding headache he can't get rid of; he likes all of it.

He likes all of it so much so that he finds himself closing his eyes in complete bliss, drowning in your gentle touches. You poof up one of his ponytails a bit, ready to tell him you're done, when you look into the mirror and notice his eyes closed, looking like he’s in a whole other world. You can't fight your smile off as you play with his ponytail for a bit longer before slowly wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his shoulder.

“What do you think?” You whisper, your breath softly fanning against his ear.

Choso opens his eyes, surprised to see you pretty much hugging him from behind, yet he doesn't hate it, not one bit. Too caught up about how much he does not hate this; he doesn't respond, and it makes you nervous.

“Sorry… I know they don't look exactly like how you usually do them, but-“

"No, no,” he cuts you off quickly. “They look amazing... Thank you, y/n...”

You smile, happy with his answer, as you untangle yourself from him and stand up. “You should head out now, Choso; you're late.”

He blinks, totally forgetting about class, and hurriedly stands up. "Right, thank you again,” is all he’s saying before rushing out the door.

You giggle slightly before yawning and making your way to your bed, ready for your usual nap, when Choso comes rushing back into the dorm again. You stare at him wide-eyed, and he simply stares back.

You furrow your eyebrows, confused, and are about to ask if he's okay when suddenly he blurts out:

"I wouldn’t mind if you did my hair again.”

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carmyboobear · 1 month

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Idk if you've written this but can you write about carmy and the reader arguing and he makes her cry? Idk I just feel like thatd be good angst fluff lol

AHH I got carried away as per usual. anyway this is good stuff. wrote a bunch. enjoy!!

word count: 1.3k

tags: traumatized carmy, mentally ill carmy and reader, arguing, language, HURT/COMFORT, ANGST/FLUFF, carmy being a sweetie

Hm…i'm spending a lot of time thinking about the set-up for this. Carmy is a very careful person when it comes to those he’s romantically involved in, but at the same time, he has a hard time controlling his temper when he's in the darkness, as i'll put it.

here's something awful i think about that i wanna write about. carmy's stressed about work, because of course he is. he's carmy. his head is whirring, spinning with anxiety and self-hatred. i think you're just like him. mentally ill for mentally ill if you will. you're also in a bad mood, and he comes home from The Bear exhausted and keyed up.

“I hate when you push me away like this,” you admit. You've been trying to get him to talk to you since he's been home. Maybe he just needs space, but separation makes you anxious. Especially when he shuts down.

“I'm sorry that it's so hard for you,” he spits, finally snapping and turning to face you. You've followed him into the dark bedroom, lit only by the harsh moonlight through the window. You flinch. You never quite get used to seeing him like this.

“I—I just—“ you feel pressure beginning in the back of your eyes. You will it away. “How can I help you if you don’t talk to me?”

“Why do you care so much? Does it make you feel better to take care of someone more fucked up than you?” He snaps, voice raised. His words go down bitter, leaving an awful taste in your mouth. Something in you shatters.

“How could you ask me that?” Your vision’s gone hot and blurry. “I’m your partner. I love you, that’s why I care, you asshole!” You’re stifling sobs. You hate crying in fights like this, but it hurts. You can’t help it.

“Fuck,” Carmy mutters under his breath. He’s gone still in your blurred vision. “Baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that—“

“That was so fucked up, Carmy.” You move to sit on the bed, trying to wipe your tears away, but they keep coming. “What’s your problem?”

“You know what my problem is.” His remorse has swept away the anger, leaving him quiet before you. He leans down at your knees, hands on your thighs. “I shouldn’t have said that. Any of that.”

“You shouldn’t have.” Carmy nods quickly, and he raises a hand to your wet cheeks. “Fuckin’ asshole.”

“I know.” He takes your pain, your anger in its entirety. His other hand brings your knuckles to his lips. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.“

“Sure sounded like you meant it.” Anger flares up in your chest, hurt and betrayed, but you tamp it down, leaning into his hand cradling his face. You take a deep breath to steady yourself. “Damnit, Carmy.”

“I know. I know.” He’s still kissing your hand. “You’re too good for me. I don’t deserve you.” You hate it when he talks like this, because you can tell he really believes it.

“Don’t say that. Please.”

“But it’s true.” You look down at him in the moonlight, at his sad blue eyes. “I always find ways to hurt you. I…”

“That’s what being in a relationship is, Carm.” You pat the space next to you. “Sit with me?”

“I keep having to remind myself of that.” He sinks into the bed next to you. “I’m so sorry for talking about you like that. Like you’re only doing this out of…I don’t know. Obligation.” He drags a hand across his tired face. “You don’t deserve that. I’m sorry. I just, I just think that—that I’m—fuck—“

“Slow down, Carm,” you say quietly. “It’s okay. You don’t need to force it. I’m listening.” He smiles bitterly at you, and you recognize the love in it easily. He takes in a deep breath before continuing.

“I still have a hard time believing that anyone cares about me. I can’t even believe that you—love me.” You can practically see the shame rolling off of him in waves. “And it makes me scared.”

“Love is scary, isn’t it?” You say softly. He just nods. “It scares me, too. That’s why I kept pestering you when you got home. I…” You blink quickly. You don’t wanna cry again. “It scares me when I don’t know what you’re thinking. Because…I dunno. It just does.”

“Yeah?” You nod. He has this thoughtful expression that he holds for a moment as he stews on your words. “I didn’t think about it like that. I’m sorry. I think…I think when you kept asking me if I was okay, it…” he sighs, scratches at his temples. “I felt like I was…getting back into a corner. I think.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” You take his hand in yours. “I can see how that must’ve felt really bad.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault that I’m like this. I think—I think it just reminded me of my mom. We would always ask her if she was okay, because she’s fucking crazy, yknow? We didn’t wanna step on her toes. But it turns out we did anyway. And the way I acted just now, I was just like…” He can’t even get the words out. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, voice choked with emotion. “I love you. So much. You know that, right?”

“You tell me everyday. How could I not?” You pull him into a hug, tight and warm, and he instantly wraps his arms around you. “You’re not your mom, Carm. You're nothing like her. Okay?”

“I don’t wanna be like her,” he whispers. “I don’t wanna be like her.”

“You’re not,” you remind him softly. “And you won’t be.”

Carmy leans back to look at you, but he remains close. His expression is knotted with pain. You run your thumb over his furrowed brow, and it makes his mouth curve upwards in a smile. It’s fleeting, but it was there.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I’ll try to open up more. Let you know what I’m thinking.”

Suddenly, you think about when you first started dating Carmy. He was so scared to open up to you emotionally, but with gentle prodding, he fell apart instantly. There was a hunger in him to be known by others, to be seen by you, and it scared him to death. You see that same fear in him now, but you also see how much he’s grown since then. You doubt you would’ve been able to have this conversation at all in the first couple months.

That makes you happy in a way you’re not quite able to word properly.

“Thank you. But I hope you also know I don’t want to force you. I just wanna help. And…” You measure your words carefully. “I’ll try not to let it freak me out so much. Because if you’re not in the mood to talk, I want you to know that’s okay. Okay?”

“Okay. I’d like that. If I don’t want to talk, I’ll just tell you. Instead of…blowing a fuse.” He laughs dryly.

“I’d like that too.” You let out an exhale of relief you didn’t realize you were holding. “Wow, Carm. Look at us. Communicating!”

“I know.” That makes him laugh for real this time, and you’re laughing too. “I couldn’t do it without you.”

“I think you could. But I certainly like doing it with you.” His smiles grows wider at that, brimming with affection.

“Let me make this up to you, baby.” He pulls you in for a kiss, slow and deep. You let out a little noise when his lips meet yours.

“Make it up to me?” Carmy’s tongue is on your neck now. Oh. “Aren’t you tired? You—you have work tomorrow—?”

“Don’t care.” You fall back onto the bed, and the blankets deflate under you. You stare up at Carmy, his curls hanging by his face. “You’re more important.”

“Well, if you insist…” You giggle, and your giggles get louder when Carmy pulls up your shirt to blow raspberries against your stomach. “Carmy, quit it—oh—!”

He makes it up to you in full and more by keeping his head between your legs for the rest of the night. By the end of it you can't remember what you were mad about in the first place.

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fx #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #my blurbs #my asks #AHH.... started writing this thing this morning and then i got massively carried away. typical #anyway today was a carmy day for me (derogatory) so writing this felt pretty cathartic

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