#hatter hat shop

[sugarmint-dreams]

hatter's hat shop

-

my shop

#my art #studio ghibli #howl's moving castle #sophie hatter #hatter hat shop #ghibli fanart

[darlingdawnvintage]

Model Wearing Jean Barthet Hat 1958

#vintage fashion #shop vintage #vintage #vintage shop #love vintage #1950s fashion #vintage hats #mad hatter #spring flowers #happy easter #straw hat crew

[martianbugsbunny]

In the first couple of episodes (maybe even the first-first) Hatter and Hare had an entire argument song about who should do the grocery shopping bc they both hated it so much, and in an episode somewhere in the forties range, they came back from the grocery store together, grinning, having had a jolly good time (and one of them having been pushed around in the shopping cart) and they’re both looking forward to their next shopping trip

Some may call it continuity error; I call it character development. Hubbies did a first grocery run together and then realized it could actually be fun if they both went instead of going solo and now they love shopping as a team, where in Wonderland can you get such an excellent arc of personal growth?

#adventures in wonderland #aiw1992 #mad hatter #march hare #mad hatter x march hare #March hare x mad hatter #hatterhare #march madness #hat hare #grocery shopping #martianbugsbunny ships

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Besotted

♡ featuring: yandere!ajax x f!reader

♡ summary: the love of your life knows you without asking, selfless and caring. however, you're slowly starting to realize the man you loved was a mask of the truth hiding underneath. wc: 12.5k+

♡ cw/tw: modern au, mentions of violence/blood, mentions of suicide, stalking, obsession, possessiveness, manipulation, rough sex, sideways sex, cockwarming, mating press, cunnilingus, drugging, overstimulation, praise, pet names (lots of them tbh)

notes: im so sorry i know it took me a long time but my time has been consumed by exams and its finals week soon so ahhhh. it's going to take me a little longer than usual until my semester is over, forgive me!! art by jam8366_dday on ig! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

“Caramel macchiato for… Katheryne?” Your quiet voice deadens among the bustling crowd of businessmen, secretaries, and construction workers alike conversing through their morning wake-up. It’s incomparable to the serene appeal of a corner coffee shop—piled high with board games and books, the nooks and crannies decorated with some sort of trinket or knickknack you collected along the way, baubles that brought you joy and spread some to anyone that entered the cozy hole in the wall—“The Mad Hatter”. People are free to add stickers to the cash register, so convoluted with color similar to graffiti, including the pink-hatted cat Lyney glued to the top. Coffee tables share space with buoyant sofas, opposite of the display case viewing a multitude of extra sweet desserts and breakfast sandwiches. At night, the fairy lights bordering the wide veiled windows glimmered a dim hue that made feathery snow sparkle like stars during winter. You set the coffee under warm lights dotting the ceiling, emanating above the wooden interior. No one is finicky for your tastes; you are happy to see the familiar cheerful or grumpy faces entering the shop. You remember names, faces, and minute personal details they’d forgotten they shared over a steaming cup of latte left to warm because the art was too pretty to drink. They’re busy, but patient; they've acquainted you long enough to not be angry at the wait, and most times come to your defense against unruly customers. 

It's the worst—or for you, the best—in the afternoons, swarming crowds waiting for an afternoon pick-me-up. You and Lyney work to the best of your ability, serving up group orders with a quickness unparalleled by nearby chain coffeehouse’s. You regard it as your passion, although your parents were disappointed when you told them you and Lyney would be buying and renovating an abandoned property states over all for coffee; your delectable drinks have the potential to form long lasting relationships between you and other customers, and there’s a certain creative merit you relish whenever a guest takes pictures of the swan-like artistry foaming on the surface. The taste of bitter beans sparks moments of merriment, longing, and love—in some cases, it’s the best form of intimacy.  

Your best memories live in this shop; the ground powder that scattered everywhere and painted Lyney like a chocolate sculpture when he tried to push the inventory to the highest shelf or staying up after close in the middle of a blizzard to make flimsy homemade decorations for the grand opening with help from Lynette. 

It’s extra special that the very place you stand is where you found the love of your life. You met him at the register, loose curls dipped in autumn tones spilling over his long lashes. The void in his eyes motionless like the ocean before a low tide. You both stared at each other for a moment, taking in the lines and details of your flustering faces. You must’ve been staring for too long, as Lyney tapped your shoulder with a side eye that alerted you to the awkward silence and line heading out the door. You fumbled for apologies and took his order; the ginger boy chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck—Ajax—such a rugged name for a pretty guy. You prepared the Frappuccino with a drizzle of affection bespoken for him. When you gave him the drink, his hand grazed against yours, a kiss without lips. It left you breathless, and with an airy coyness he said, “I didn’t get your name?” You told him, and he tried out the sound on his tongue. You wished he’d say it over and over. With a rosy wash across his cheeks, “A fitting name for your beauty. Have a good day, (Y/N)” was all he said before he walked away, leaving you stunned and smitten. Lyney was the unfortunate victim that dealt with your wearisome fantasizing about Ajax. 

But Ajax already knew your name. And address, and friends.  

How could he not? When he saw you hanging lights in the windows on a particularly sunny morning that made your glowing face shine with pure radiance unrivaled by deities, he sunk endlessly. He vowed to walk at a distance at that same time every day to ogle your lustrous hair, your soft skin that didn’t break a sweat, the curve of your lips. You soon became an itch he couldn’t scratch, a plaguing thought that wiggled in the wrinkles of his brain and made it hard to sleep or work. You, you, you. Is your laugh a heavy snort or more lighthearted, do you have the same sense of humor as him? You’ll like what he likes, think what he thinks. 

You were constantly on his mind, he wondered if you were eating when he ate or how good you were sleeping as he drifted off to his. It’s not his fault that he snapped discrete pictures of your smiling face, you were too adorable to ignore. He valued coming home to kneel at the little shrine he made of your printed gaiety, surrounded by consistently fresh roses and citrus candles he thought you’d smell like. If he stood close enough, it was like you were right in front of him. The apron tied around your waist was a vibrant crimson—his favorite color. It's fate, the way the stars aligned and sent angels down to bless you with a pinafore of his approval. You had to know he was out there; he was already imagining returning to a cheerful home, and your swaying hips as you whipped up a glacé delight. He’d kiss you on the cheek, and you’d pop a tart blueberry in his mouth. Yes—it had to be this way, it must be what you wanted, too. 

Ajax coincidentally found himself rummaging through trash cans in the vicinity for an inkling of receipts from the shop. He stumbled upon it, of course—it’s not like he waited out until nightfall right before garbage day to have the highest chances of finding identification. The jagged fragment of a receipt led to your family, social media, and blogs you dedicated to your baking progress. And he’d monitor the sites on different screens with multiple tabs, an infatuated glaze over those dull eyes that kept him glued to the updates for hours. He made many accounts, liking your posts fervently with flimsy justifications of encouragement. You became reachable day by day. 

The day Ajax decided to pursue you upfront, it was a dream he hoped never to wake. He’d rehearsed it obsessively until the moment he stood in front of the glass door, a tremble in his restless legs at the thought of looking ridiculous. Seeing you up close felt like a special occasion. His heart was beating off-kilter in his quaking chest, as if jumping free fall out of a plane, and he held his breath until it opened. The confidence he mustered up before he got to the register did little to suppress the giddiness rolling in his veins. His pulse paced the closer he got. Two more orders and there you were; the center of his universe, and you didn’t know it yet. Pictures didn’t do you justice—no, he needed to see your grace preserved in museums depicted in rich Renaissance paintings onlookers could only fantasize holding or loving, but you’d be for him, and him alone. He drew a blank. “May I get your name for the order?” His eyes flickered with a brand-new luster, it melded certainty and delusion.  

She wants...my name.  

My name.  

The sweet harmony of your words lulled Ajax to an addicting turbid spiral that swept fondness through the tempest and scattered infatuation in its aftermath. A feeling too tenacious, it must be love. The incessant burn urged him to protect and guide you to him. You need him. Now he watched compulsively with a winded jaw, your smile to other men who couldn't compare to his devotion. They don’t know you like he does. He could map out the corners of your house from the slim backgrounds of your blog posts or name every club you’ve participated in since middle school. Hunger spread where his fists craved contact, like sunfire corroding the taught skin on his knuckles. They’ve breathed your air and existed in your presence. It’s undeserved, they’re unworthy. 

How fucking dare they. 

How lost you must be without him, led astray by intruding greed; he selflessly assumed his responsibility. You are his, after all. So, he stalked behind cars shadowed by harsh streetlamps to ensure you got home safe and intercepted your packages to check for threatening substances. The accomplishment he felt whenever he completed his—in his words, “duties”—instilled exultation beyond any memory. Within the envelopes, he’d leave an elegant note embellished with hearts hinting at his infatuation and the care he put in to maintain your safety. One letter turned to two, then five, to the point where you’d receive a sleeve stuffed with increasingly unhinged letters from your secret admirer that fanned out when you tipped it. 

On Christmas Eve, a limitless cloak of frozen stardust decided to flurry right before your shift ended. You covered Lyney’s shift so he’d have time to spend with Lynette and Freminent; it wasn’t like you had anything to do afterwards. You counted the flakes of the storm through frosted glass, thinking about the wellbeing of your family back home. Mailed gifts couldn't console the grief you felt during the holidays. A knock on the door turned your attention to the silhouette of a man wearing a slouched beanie with a pompom on top. You unlocked the door, and it swung open from the whirling heft of wind and smattered white across the wood from empty streets. 

“Sorry, we just closed-” You looked up, no time to register the freckled face from months ago, that stole your heart with a smile. Icy grains kissed his cheeks, as red as apples, and fused to the wool scarf draped around his trench coat. “Oh! Hello, again.” You tried to play it off, but the crack in your voice teetered. You were suddenly nervous. Ajax grinned hard and shuffled slightly inwards to escape the chill.  

“Hi (Y/N)! I was really hoping you weren’t closed, it’s a good day to grab a hot chocolate, y’know?” 

“It is. You’re probably freezing, please come in.” You should’ve been home by now, but for Ajax, you could spare a few minutes. He unraveled his winter attire to reveal a tightly fitted turtleneck and took a seat at the chair closest to you. You wrap around the counter and start the kettle, struggling with what to do next at the gaze gripping your mind. “One hot chocolate, coming up.” 

“How much I owe ya?” he chirped, arms resting on the table while he watched you grab two mugs. “No worries, it’s on the house. Consider it your Christmas present.” 

“I appreciate that, thank you. You really are kind...Lyney left you by yourself tonight?” You wondered how he knew Lyney’s name when they hadn’t met, but quickly brushed it off. 

“Yeah, I wanted him to spend time with his family.” 

“And you don’t have any here?” You didn’t retain your usual weariness towards acquaintances. On this lonely night Ajax didn’t feel like much of a stranger. 

“Nah, moved away to start this.” Your hands gestured to the quaint interior. Ajax scanned his surroundings, marveling at the scenery before he spoke. “What you’ve done with this, it’s lovely. Your ambition and dedication are apparent from the way you treat the customers, I can tell you’re passionate about what you do.” Your body flared like summer and succeeded in hushing the breeze. You poured a cup full of thick cocoa and plopped a dollop of whipped cream on both. “It’s not much, but-” the mugs settled on the table, and you sat across from him. “It smells amazing, (Y/N). You’re an expert at this” he interrupted. You traced the rim with your finger and rested your head on the other hand. 

“Thanks...I assume you don’t have family here, either? Think you’d be ripping open gifts by now if you did.” He took another sip. “Yup, they live in a different country. I should visit them soon” he sighed and glanced at the jumbled wool scarf. “Did a sibling make that for you?” you asked. 

“Yeah, my sister. A parting gift.” 

“It’s beautiful, she’s very talented” you remarked, admiring the delicate fleece. The bittersweet smile in response stuck to your heartstrings. “She is.” 

You both drank in silence and occasionally met each other's eyes, only to turn away. Something unsaid hung in the air. "Winter has a way of making us reminisce. It’s so depressing” you confided. You hadn’t told Lyney, but you were terribly lonely these past months. You replaced your emotions with extra shifts, but they came crashing down in the darkness of your bedroom. Ajax gazed at you like he could see through you. 

“The sky appears magnificent under the snow's embrace. Its purity is like the moon's gentle radiance. I don’t think there’s anything like a world covered in snow" he soothed. His words flustered you, and you homed in on the white trails dancing in your lukewarm cup. 

“I’ve never thought of it like that. I used to hate snow. It feels...intruding, I guess.” 

“But if we don’t allow ourselves to be intruded, how will we love?” he blurted. It was comforting to hear in the moment, and you returned his smile. 

“Is the hot chocolate good?” you asked. 

“It’s perfect.... you’re perfect.” You chuckled at the notion, mistaking it for pity. “I’m not perfect.” 

“But you are. The way you carry yourself, your intelligence, your courtesy. You’re flawless, gorgeous inside and out and you don’t even notice.” The way Ajax looked at you, on the verge of his seat and studying your face, lips, and hair. You couldn’t deny the flattery that drowned you and dragged you the more he persisted. “How would you know from one encounter?” His mouth fixed to say it, the truth, but he tight-lipped and reached into his coat pocket instead. He grabbed a blue velvet box and slid it to you. 

“I wanted to give you this. Ever since I saw you.” It felt expensive under your fingertips. You unclasped the front, and it opened to a twinkling pendant. It was a cable chain dangling an oval sapphire gem, with 18 karat white-gold halo sunbursts surrounding it. It’s breathtaking, as if stolen from the tomb of a goddess. 

“Wow, this is...stunning. Ajax, I can’t accept this; it’s too much” you pressured. You’ve never received a gift of this caliber from anyone, it didn’t feel right to look at it. 

“Consider it your Christmas present” he repeated. You shook your head and held up the box to hand it back to him. “I can’t, I shouldn’t-” 

“Please” he pleaded. He clasped your hands, a reassuring thumb gently caressing yours. You were so focused on its extravagance that you didn’t notice the note stuck to the roof of the box. Refined script dotted with hearts; the same style as the hundreds in your closet. Your mouth gaped. 

“This letter...you...have you been the one sending me all those love letters?” You should've had your suspicions, or the urge to back away, but you weren’t afraid. You tried to string together his ability to find your address or mail, or how he knew Lyney, but your brain couldn’t clear the fog of feeling loved after so many years. It’s a warm hug to the blood that instinctively ran cold. Your heartbeat’s fast, half with anxiety and the other with desire. 

Ajax solemnly hung his head and retracted his hands. He fidgeted with his thumbs. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you, I thought about being upfront, but I was so scared of your response and I didn’t want you to hate me, so I thought maybe if I sent them anonymously you could start liking the person behind it or if I played my cards right you’d find out who it was...but that doesn’t make any sense now that I’m thinking about it, I just wanted to be near you. You’re so amazing and smart and beautiful, I just...s-sorry…I’m rambling. I hope you can understand; I-I didn’t mean to harm I just want to make sure you’re safe” he choked. The strained words tumbled over one another and broke in places, where they traveled off at the end. Ajax averted your eyes, pools of tears threatening to fall from the corners. The sudden mood change took you off guard, and you reached for his guilty hands. You were on the verge of divulging your entirety for him, be it the isolation of the big city or lack of attention. He didn’t seem like a bad guy; he might have been misguided. What’s the harm in giving him a chance? 

“It’s okay, Ajax. I’m not upset, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered” you giggled. “The letters are sweet, I read all of them. They make me feel a little better about living in a shithole apartment. Thank you.” He looked at you, bottomless intensity searching for more. “I’m interested in you, too” you added. 

“Then you’ll be my girlfriend?” It was phrased as a question but arrived as a proclamation. “...I would love that.” 

Ajax moved around the table. You rose to wrap your arms around his neck while he squeezed your waist with his head lying on your shoulder. The duping tears vanished like they didn’t exist, and his shameful expression morphed into a conniving smirk stretching unnaturally in his triumph. Your authentic touch, the smell of perfume wafting in his nose. It’s not citrus, but it’s you. You, everything is you. This is how things were meant to be. His eyes curved like arches from sheer elation, biting his lip to stifle the cackle. You’re together, at last. 

The snow stopped some time ago, but the blizzard was just beginning. 

Your relationship with Ajax progressed fast after that day. A weariness dulled within you after you came to your senses from your prior confession, and you weren’t sure about the stability of his neurotic nature. However, when Ajax showed up with a bouquet of the loveliest flowers you’ve ever laid eyes on during an exhausting shift, it shined above all else. He showers you with consistent love and attention and worships the ground you walk on with doting devotion. He's clingy and somewhat suffocating, but his sick adoration blesses you with rose-colored glasses; you’re divinity on a golden pedestal in his eyes, and if he fell hard, you fell harder. The considerate, caring, good listener he is makes the small hiccups go over your head. In the first few months you were unequivocally enamored, the kind that tied your universe to his. You patter about him to Lynette, who gives you half-concerned approval at the story of how you met and the “little things” you cherish.  

Like when he allowed you to move in without a second thought. The paint chipped around dodgy windowsills and fraying carpets, and your landlord wouldn’t pay for the fixes. Unfortunately, you needed a place to stay and couldn’t afford to speak up about the horrible conditions. You were used to your slumlord at that point, but the absence of working heat and busted appliances led you to the arms of your boyfriend, sobbing about the stress your landlord subjected you to. He scooped you like fragile glass as you faltered through shaky breaths grating your lungs and hushed your distress. Kissing your head, he rubbed your back and mumbled into your hair. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of it...I’ll take care of everything.”  

A week later you’d found out that your landlord died from a gruesome suicide, and all tenants had to leave the auctioned duplex. Ajax took you in, and you began adapting to his midtown townhouse. Though you felt like a mooch at first, the welcoming interior had you snuggling between his downy bedding in no time. He shouldered your burden, accepted your genuine self and lavished generous replacements of the items you couldn’t carry. You don’t lift a finger around him, and he readily cooks and cleans for your comfort. 

You’ve gotten accustomed to his presence. When you wake, he’s either watching you sleep silently or preparing food for you to take to work. Ajax follows you around like an obedient pet, smoothing your hair and highlighting how beautiful you look in your rough post-morning wake-up state. He’ll try to kiss you before toothpaste, and you playfully mush his disappointed face off to get dressed. He compensates by kissing in other places, your clothed knee as he ties your shoes or your hands when they interlock. Prior to departing, he attaches that sapphire elegance to your neck. You grab your tidy lunchbox and stroll together in the early hours of the morning for your opening shift. “Have a good day, baby” he says, and places sugary smooches from your lips to your forehead and back again. You’d stand there forever, embracing his warmth if your alarm didn’t notify you to start prepping.  

When Ajax isn’t around, and you’re busy piping frosting onto cakes, there’s a profound hole in your happiness that can’t be filled with buttercream. The way his nose scrunches when he laughs hard, and those hot honey strands tickling your cheeks when you sleep because his face is directly on top of yours make you crave his sight and touch. Sometimes you ponder what you’ve done to deserve someone so over the moon for you. Hell, you’d give him the moon if that’s what he wanted; it’d barely cover a fraction of the benevolence he’s evinced. For now, you blink distraction away, and there's spread sloppily piled over the cakes and countertop. You simper to yourself; such a handsome, tender handful. 

Your daydreams carry you through close, and you and Lyney remain as you wipe down tacky tables with rags lathered in disinfectant. You’re circling surfaces with vigor, quick to move to the next. You hear him laugh from another table. “Okay, speed cleaner. Missing your house husband?” he teases. You roll your eyes and pretend to throw the rag at him. “Hurry up, I wanna go home.” He fake cowers and throws his hands up in surrender. “Yes ma’am. Don’t waste all your strength, Lynette will be upset if you can’t dance with her tomorrow.”  

“I’m not some old woman, Lyn. I can party.” You force away the memory of sleeping on Lyney’s shoulder in the lounge area of a booming club. 

“Sure, grandma. Don’t forget your cane when I pick you up” he jokes. You chortle, and actually throw the rag this time. Too bad his agile form dodges it. “I gotta let Ajax know.”  

“...Right.” Lyney loses momentum and stares at the steaming bucket for a pregnant pause, stirring the rag to buy time. You glance towards him, and he shifts a peccant look. You turn on your heels and lean on the back of a chair. 

“Spill it” you demand.  

“Spill what?” 

“What you actually wanna say.” Lyney bites the inside of his cheek to physically restrain the itch that vents brutal honesty. “I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say.” 

You narrow your brows and sigh in disbelief. “So what? We’ve been friends since high school, just tell me.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and gulps a deep breath. “Lyney.” 

“It’s about Ajax” he exhales. “Oh.”  

“I’m worried about you.” You weren’t expecting the serious air, it sounds like an intervention. It's unnatural coming from your easygoing friend. 

“Really? Why?” you question. He blinks for a few moments, dumbfounded at the innocent audacity, or willful ignorance. 

“Some of the stuff you say about him...it creeps me out. How is it not creeping you out?” he stresses, gawking at the exorbitant gem. 

“Hmm, I’m not sure what you mean.” To you, Ajax isn’t the scary type. Mysterious maybe, but his affection prevents you from seeing him as anything but the missing half of your soul. 

“Okay. You don’t remember telling me how he kept that rotting coffee cup from when you guys first met? Or how he watches you sleep? He made your favorite meal first try and called it a ‘lucky guess?’” The more he goes on, the more disbelieved he becomes.  

“I think it’s romantic” you chide. He expels his frustration. 

“(Y/N), I'm not saying any of this to be a hater, but all of this is unhealthy. Unhealthy might be an understatement. I mean, the man acts like he can't live without you. What if you were to break up, can you be sure he won't lose his fucking mind?” The hypothetical calamity of separation sinks seeds in puddles of doubt. It’s not possible. 

“We love each other. That won’t happen.” 

“It’s been over a year, and you know nothing about him. He comes out of nowhere, sweeps you off your feet, love bombs you, and you take it at face value. Maybe he truly is the one and it’s love at first sight, but this whole situation is...odd. I care about you, (Y/N), and this guy scares me. He’s hiding something.” You attempt to formulate a fact you’ve learned about him, a detail to prove how close you’ve gotten, and come to realize there’s none in your reservoir. You know naught of his friends or family or wealth. Ajax tells you safe verities, like his favorite food and hobby. You don’t thirst for personal space or secrets when it comes to Ajax, and the stygian plunge in his eyes gives you no hints, but you believe the pleasing words that escape his lips either way.  

You glance at the empty Tupperware on the counter, that was once packed with a hefty sandwich and strawberries carved into hearts. He's effortlessly adorable, a small berry-stained note with a simple phrase: "you'll do great today <3". Your dream man, he wouldn't hide things from you, you won’t fathom the thought. “I-” 

Ding 

That dazzling toothy gapped grin spreads warmth across your chest and the room instantly feels a bit brighter. Ajax saunters like he owns the place, engulfing your frame in his stature and placing a kiss on your head. Lyney freezes though Ajax ignored his existence. “I’m getting ready to leave” you muffle into the musky denim jacket. He nods, but his action won’t follow his hands sturdy on your waist as you shimmy out. You make haste to the back room, past the pantry dry goods and collect your sweater and bag. 

You’re about to push open the swinging door when you pause, catching a glimpse of Ajax and Lyney through the oval window. They don’t normally interact in the same space, and you thought it best to respect their boundaries. Ajax is turned away from you, but you can see Lyney clear as day, a stone solid unease skipping on his skin that makes calculated breaths too obvious. It’s silent enough to hear a pin drop. His arms are stuck to the sides, and you observe the apron jumbled in his clutches shaking ever so slightly. He’s trained to the hickory grain of the floor, and from a small portion of Ajax’s visible face, it’s a dreadful expression unbeknownst to you.  

There’s an almost tenebrous loom towering over Lyney, and you feel an alarming shiver settle in your lower spine. Were his eyes normally this gloomy? Your heart rate palpitates when it shouldn’t. You want to look away from the swirling dark depths possessing your soulmate, shooting daggers at your friend. His jaw is clenched to popping, veins on his neck and hands chasing bone. He has a lethal grip on Lyney’s shoulder, and the rough tension pulls at the wrinkling undershirt. But he sneers—a twisted, coiling kind that doesn’t match his glare—an impersonation of affability. 

“Ajax” you mutter softly as you sway the door. He turns sharply, and it’s like a flipped switch. The rage decays to ash swiftly and he’s yours again, your adoring admirer. “I'm ready.” He waits for your approach and tangles your hands. You make your way out, freeing Lyney from capitivity. He holds the door open for you to leave, and you shout “Bye, Lyn! I’ll see you tomorrow.” A shell-shocked cast on his face, he doesn’t say a word. 

You sit at the dining table, feeling disconnected from reality while the kitchen rises with a clatter of pans and glass. You scroll through posts on your phone and occasionally peek over at the corridor to watch Ajax work. His passion shows when he cooks, rocking the skillet to upturn the veggies sizzling within. His broad back flexes with skillful movements, and he looks at you, winking with a teasing pucker on his glossy lips. You giggle. I was just imagining things. 

He slides the plates on the table and sits across from you. Ajax sits like a giddy child waiting for you to try their creation, and you take the first bite. The bountiful flavor dances on your tongue. “It’s really good!” you muffle through bites. A tinge of pink sets on his cheeks. “I’m glad you like it.” 

You chew haphazardly out of focus. You can’t help but notice how quiet your phone has been since you’ve moved in, it feels foreign in your possession. Not a single call from your friends came through, forgotten and invisible. You contemplate apologizing to Lyney tomorrow, it was wrong to get defensive towards compassion. Ajax interrupts his eating to track your fork picking at the meal. 

“You okay, sweetheart? You aren’t eating.” 

You awake from your trance. “Huh? Oh, nothing. Just feels kinda off.” Ajax’s back straightens, and he tenses throughout at a semblance of negative diction. “What does? The food? I’ll remake it” he stumbles. 

“No no, the food is great. It’s, I don’t know. I haven’t got a call from Tiggy in a while.” The corners of Ajax’s mouth contort. 

“Really...I heard he’s been hangin’ out with some new people.” His tone is dry, it strives to be nonchalant. His elbows rest on the table, and he carves his knife into bloody steak like struggling living bone. 

“So, I guess that means he can’t message me anymore, huh” you chuckle. He twists the knife deeper, as if it’s digging in his back. “He’s just a bad friend honestly. Not consistent, you even said he missed your birthday last year. Who needs a friend like that?” 

“I guess.” Meanwhile, you flip through your contacts searching for Tighnari’s name; come to find out he’s nowhere in your phone. In fact, a lot of messages and numbers seemed to have dwindled over time. Your own parents, vanished. Perhaps you were so overworked you’d forgotten they deleted. You start scouring for his profile, but it doesn’t come up. You can’t imagine Tighnari wiping out his entire presence, and it’s not just him. Outside him are the piles of male friends you seldom locate, and you become flustered at your blindness. You look at Ajax, and his eyebrows quirk up to inquire about your confusion. 

“That’s so weird. I should try calling him-” 

“Don't.” It’s not suggestive, its one note, stern demand. It rings in your ears, and when that mask slips for a terrifying moment, you hold your breath until it recurs. “’S not that I don’t want you to, honey. He clearly doesn’t care in the first place, that’s not a sign of a good friend. I’m just trying to help; you know I always have ou- your best interest.” There’s an unrelenting pit in your stomach telling you it’s wrong. “You seem tense since we left, Ajax. Are you alright?” He stops, it leaves you on edge when a formidable shadow casts over his eyes from his bangs that make them look as endless as the bottom of the sea.  

“I feel like...you’re straying away from me. You’re becoming more secretive. Have I done something to violate your trust?” You don’t consider how Ajax knew Tighnari, let alone how he’d find the password to your phone. It was your fault, it had to be. The solemn quiver of his lips clears your suspicion. You’d forget it all to see him happy again. You stand and sway to his side of the table, sitting on his lap to take his face in your hands. “Not at all, babe. My phone’s been acting up, I didn’t mean to accuse you. I just asked because you and Lyney looked high-strung. ‘M sorry.” You kiss him softly with reassurance, and he melts in your touch. The foggy residue shows on his blushing face, and you introduce another to his cheek. “I’m going to a party with Lyney and Lynette tomorrow, so I wanted to see if Tiggy would come.” 

“Ah...okay. Don’t worry, darling, it was a short conversation.” Vague and unassuming, but it didn’t matter now. Ajax can’t deceive you. 

The state you drifted off—lying on Ajax’s chest with his arms embracing your lax figure—is not how you awake. A piercing scream rises, and you jump out of bed in a drowsy stupor. “Ajax?” you addle. Metal clangs to the floor, and the sheets hang low on your hips before you dart down the stairs and through the dining room to discover the cause of the noise.  

He’s kneeling on the kitchen tile, compressing his forearm. Vermillion overflows between his fingers and palm and spatters his shirt. The knife, along with a clumsily chopped apple, is muddy with blood. “Oh my god!” You sprint for a towel and first aid kit crammed underneath the kitchen sink. When you return, Ajax is hissing from the sting, salty tears smeared on his eyelashes. You accompany him on the floor, ignoring the crime scene peppering the cabinets and gently glide his hands to get free view of the wound. “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah, now that you’re here.” It’s a nasty cut, not a gash but painful, nonetheless. You bring him to wash the excess blood, and pat it dry carefully. The fizz from disinfectant makes his arm jolt, but you hold him steady to apply. As you bandage his arm, he blinks away the twinge.  

“I’m sorry, baby. You have work in a few minutes, and you’re here taking care of me. Go ahead and get ready, I’ll do it.” 

“No way in hell am I leaving you like this. Don’t apologize” you insist, the end of your wrap stuffed to secure. You can’t conceive clocking in or partying tonight while Ajax suffers at home. “I’m gonna call out for a couple days so I know you’re well. Relax, I’ll be right back, okay?” He nods, and you rush to the bedroom to retrieve your phone. Ajax wipes his face on his sleeve, streaking insincere sorrow near the serpentine smirk. 

You spent the day cleaning the home, wiping the kitchen top to bottom and making dinner for Ajax. He rests in bed, and you often check in on him. Treating him like an intensive care patient might’ve been excessive, but he accepts your gentle touch and hand fed meals nursing him back to health. You’re lying in bed with him, and the load of his brawny chest forces yours into the mattress with your legs on either side. You massage the pads of your fingers into his scalp, and your breathing weighted blanket emits a groan. Dazed and fully lax, lulling from the rise and fall of your chest. 

The second day is the same, but the lack of pressure divides your dreary lids. It’s midnight, and it casts a fluorescent glow that permeates the room. You feel your way from walls to banister, and as you’re about to step down the stairs to get water, you pause before the living room. Crouched, peeking through the bars of the banister, you see Ajax on the couch in absolute quiet. Shade stands in place of his facial features, obscured besides the hazy veneer in his iris that bores into the journal in front of him. The collage catches moonbeams on the coffee table, crowded with tiny notes that peak out the uniform pages, and polaroid pictures glued to each sheet, stacked so thick it can’t close. He uses the pen you thought you’d lost moving in, running his tongue over the older bite marks on its base. Squinting your eyes fails at registering the specifics. 

You suck in a breath and take another step, hoping the unreliable foundation won’t give way to whining wood. He skims across the words as if they’re memorized, and crows to himself. Eeeeir. It conforms, and the minute you press into it and that haunting sound whispers through the house, Ajax cracks his neck to your position. You stiffen, a deer in headlights. He puts down the pen. 

“Oh, darling. I’m sorry, did I wake you?” he coos. You shoot to a stand, and Ajax meets you at the bottom of the staircase. “I-I just wanna get some water.” You feel meek and small, fairly avoiding his gaze. He enfolds your jaw with his bad arm like it doesn’t hurt, and pecks you on your forehead, light with anxious sweat. “I can get that for you, dear.” Before he can go, you interrupt. 

“Ajax.” 

“Hm?” 

“The book over there, did you make it?” He alternates between you and the book and glisters his pearly whites. He delicately hauls it to you, “I was going to wait for it to be done, but you can read it now if you want.” You hesitate. You aren’t sure if you want to read it. Regardless, you ferry it in your arms, hefty despite being incomplete. 

You unfurl the cover. 

Page after page, your pulse pumps sonorously in your ears, uncontrollable where goosebumps surge through ebbing limbs. Without a doubt, you’re frightened. Aghast, gaping mouth with eyes the size of dinner plates. Dating from your first encounter, poems and chaotic paragraphs of infatuation. Your sleeping silhouette, columns of reverence, strands of your hair taped like art—pictures of you you’ve never seen taken behind cars and lamp posts.  

The lengthy muddled captions emphasize how beautiful you are, how gracious you must be, because he hadn’t met you yet. On top of it all, written repeatedly in red and smothered in hearts, “I love you (Y/N)”. You don’t want to hold it. It’s broiling on your palms; you want it thrown in fire and scorched to shriveling. It almost reads as a manifesto, with jumbled threats sprinkled above overriding ink. Brutal crimes he’d commit if you were ever harmed, the gory actions he envisioned doing to your male customers. It’s incoherent and unorganized. The last page you flip to etches drought in your throat; A dried scrap of the towel you used to tend to his injury is taped inside. A new entry: 

“ (Y/N) takes care of me! without her I am nothing  my sun and star        ♡    my blood and bone           ♡  ♡ my goddess, my angel,   the very essence of my existence     ♡        ♡     my love is infinite and eternal   you are destined to be mine   ♡     ♡        forever, forever she is mine ”  

You peek up from the book, not prepared to face the source. Ajax ogles you with heart eyes that can’t contemplate the absurdity. They surround you, limit you from speaking undulating panic. Part of you is fearful, the other reserves pure love you still have for him.  

“Do you like it, honey?” No, you hate it. It’s scary and not the man you fell in love with. But those sonnets and odes dripping in honey—descriptions that trickle raw vulnerability and expose his truest intentions—are hard to detest when he treasures you earnestly. His expression, he’ll shatter to flecks if you devastate him. So, you scrape back the bile and oblige a strained smile. 

“I love it, Ajax. Thank you.” 

You’re excited to be at work, and relieved to see Lyney. His banter distracts you from the overbearing air at home. Ajax proceeds like nothing happened, or at least nothing for him. It’s fresh in your mind, torments your thoughts as you get ready for the day. His bare chest hugs you from behind while your brush your teeth and he trails groggy kisses from your shoulder to your jaw. It leaves heat on your ears, and dread in your stomach. The necklace going around you is a cage. 

Closing arrives, and you start wrapping things up. 

“Could you get the dark roast box?” Lyney asks from the bookshelf. 

“Heard” you reply, strolling to storage to find that unnamed box squeezed beside larger product. Balancing the contents, you swing open the door, and let out a gasp to your shock. 

“(Y/N)!” Hollers from the dining area. Collei, Tighnari, and astoundingly, Zhongli swarm near Lynette and Freminent. They’re removing their sweaters, but you don’t give Collei or Tighnari time before you charge at them with an immovable hug.  

“Tiggy, Collei! Oh my god!” She welcomes your embrace, and you hear a labored sigh from Tighnari as he tries to pry your arms. “You might fracture my ribs if you keep hugging so tight.” Collei chuckles, and you break the reunion. “I missed you so much!” she bubbles, practically doing happy feet to exert her enthusiasm. You move to Zhongli and greet him with a lukewarm “Hello.” 

Zhongli, your college boyfriend. The terms you ended on were neither good nor bad. He was a cold selfish player, who wanted to have his cake and eat it too. Unfortunately, he got clumsy with the surplus of women he juggled, and you found out you were a number among many. You shed misery in front of his dorm room, and he stilled a detached glare whilst you shouted through its paper-thin halls with unfiltered rage. It was one of the worst moments of your life. A couple years down the line, and you’ve learned to forgive him for his disrespectful, arrogant attitude.  

“You look well” he charms with silky bass. “I am.” 

The couple hours you spend catching up and playing board games goes fluently. Tighnari, Lynette, and Freminent rib about the rules they established mid-way through their card game, and you and Collei sit enchanted by the cozy villager simulation on her handheld console. One of her legs is on top of yours, and you’re leaning in her space. Zhongli can’t catch your sight, purposely projecting louder than usual as he enjoyed a drink made by Lyney. 

“She’s so cute! What’s that one called?” 

“Merengue, she’s my favorite.” 

“Hope Merengue helps you with your PhD thesis” Tighnari intrudes, followed by an annoyed sigh at the “+2” card Freminent puts down. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me!” 

“I didn’t know you were going for a PhD, that’s great” you praise. 

“I guess you wouldn’t know, since you don’t bother to call. Had to find out how you’re doing from Lyney” he jokes. You tilt your head. “Me? You have me blocked on everything.” 

“You don’t come up for me either. I’ve tried calling you a few times, but it went to voicemail. I assumed you had a new phone” Collei supports. You reply with a dry chuckle, and navigate accounts you blocked, evidence they were restricted. It concludes with blank lists where their names should appear. Nothing, not even a way to add them again. This whole ordeal makes you feel like you’re going crazy. You feel bile filling the chambers of your throat, accompanied by a distinct unsettling swell on your temples. Collei notices your furrowed brows and rubs your back. 

“Is everything alright?” Her voice is removed from static hammering your eardrums. 

“Uh, y-yes. I need some water.” You move to the register, where Lyney is wiping down the counter. He slides you a water bottle from the mini fridge. “Don’t throw up, I just cleaned this.” 

“I’ll do my best” you retort. He slants to you, whispering, “Sorry about Zhongli, they didn’t tell me he was tagging along.” You wave it off and take a swig.  

“We gotta talk later. You were right...he’s hiding something.” He gives a comforting nod, and a slender hand enters your peripheral vision.  

“You mind making another, Lyney?” 

“God, you’re insatiable” he complains, and takes Zhongli’s cup for a refill.  

“You both did an outstanding job with the café. It’s homely.” You snort, head resting on your hand. “Is that your way of saying it’s shit?” 

Zhongli frowns, “I’m being serious, I’m proud of what you’ve done here.” 

“Interesting. I’m surprised this isn’t a downgrade to you.” 

“Anything you contribute to is an automatic upgrade.” That sad attempt at flirtation makes you scoff. “Guess your post-college affairs aren’t as frequent if you’re stooping this low.” Maybe you weren’t over it completely. 

“How many times must I apologize?” 

“Until you die.” 

“I’m willing to do that, as many times as it takes.”  

You huff, “It doesn’t matter, Zhongli. I’m in a relationship.” 

“Are you happy?” You don’t have a quip for that question, and it rains on your emotions when you consider it. A flower struggles to bloom through intense downpours. 

“Of course I am.” His smile is frail, and he places a mellow hand on your shoulder. “Then he has all he could ever ask for.”  

The door abruptly opens. Collei’s holding it, and behind it, is Ajax. Dire tension hangs in the air, arid like the anticipation of disaster. Faint smirk and murky glower; the swirling spiral coaxes the same fear you felt last night, and the previous days. His face can’t decide what demeanor to convey, it forces gladness where darkness veils his stare. You tread away from Zhongli, praying he didn’t see the hand that was on you moments ago. Your friend's wave, but he doesn’t return the friendly gesture, instead firing a shaded cast of disgust. He saunters to you with wrenched posture, and each step makes your heart race. 

“Sweetheart, you didn’t answer the phone. I was worried.” He guides you to him by your lower waist. Zhongli watches as Ajax kisses the corner of your mouth, and you beam from the one that tickles your nose. “’M sorry, not feeling so good.” 

“You didn’t tell me you’d be at a party.” 

“It was a surprise.” 

“Ah, I see. These are your friends?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know. 

“Yeah, from back home.” 

“Hello” Zhongli chimes in, holding out his hand to shake. Ajax methodically turns his head to him. You swear you see a vein popping out of his forehead, a splitting stress on his teeth. “Who are you.” 

“Zhongli, I’m an old friend of hers from college. We had a few classes together.” 

“...Friend” he mocks with rictus, “I’ve never heard your name before.” 

“Emphasis on '’old’. I figured I’d stop by since everyone else was here, it’d be a shame to waste such lovely weather-” 

“You talk a lot” he states monotone. Zhongli sneers, “Some may say. I’m quite talkative during social gath-” 

“So shut the fuck up.” The room hushes. You feel the witnesses shrinking themselves at the crushing tension.  

“Excuse me?” 

“Why were you touching her.” He’s jittery, suppressing the turbulent urge shredding through him.  

“I didn’t realize she was your ‘property’” Zhongli scolds. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You put yourself between them, splaying your fingers across Ajax’s chest. His mood switches easily at your expecting gaze. “Ajax, baby, I’m tired. Can we go home now?” He pauses for a final glare at Zhongli. 

“Of course. Let’s go.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief and hold onto his arm as you storm out of the coffeehouse, no time for goodbyes from your friends. You center on leashing Ajax home. Blocks down, you hear the far-off patter of footsteps on stone getting louder. It’s too dinning to ignore, and as you turn around your free arm is snatched by Zhongli. You shriek, “(Y/N), wait, don’t go yet-” 

Whack! His head flies back and pushes him off balance before his feet find stability. It happens so fast, and you look at Ajax, who has a most terrifying dusk pouring on his livid features. Blood gushes from Zhongli’s nose, but he straightens up tall with his fists held in front of him. Ajax cackles, and jabs between the fists that barely have time to block. His movements are fluid, swinging effortlessly after they fall to his sides. Zhongli paces back, and Ajax charges towards him with quick solid blows that make his loafers scratch on the pavement. He plants a mean gut punch to his torso, and Zhongli doubles over until Ajax punches him in the eye with steel knuckles. He collapses, but his fighting hands linger, any chance to defend himself against your merciless boyfriend. That is, until Ajax sits above him, and begins beating him to a pulp. 

Whack! Whack! Whack! His hits are thundering and vicious, tracking blood to his skin from the momentum. You feel lost to time, lost on what to do to save this situation. It sounds like bone swimming in curdling clots and makes you sick. You dive to Ajax, gone by the dead visage. You snake your arms around his waist.  

“Ajax! Please stop!” you scream at the top of your lungs. It falls on deaf ears, but you continue to scream. You’re sobbing into his back and yelling to a hoarse end, when suddenly the punches stop. He gets off Zhongli mechanically and braces your faint legs to rise. It’d be wholesome if not for the blood splattering his hands. He notices your tears and wipes them away, streaking faint blood across your cheek. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m here now.” 

The entire walk home, he’s silent. You hate it when he’s silent. There are cuts spread over his hands and blood steadily runs from the top lip to his swollen bottom lip. He stares off in the distance, concentrated on something—rage, anger—stirring in his cotton-filled brain. You can't read him, and you wonder if you ever had that privilege. 

The pieces come together themselves in a puzzle you unconsciously rejected. You can’t recall the last time you spoke to your parents. His ability to know your favorite meals without talking or gifting you outstanding presents that surfaced memories you’d long forgotten. Collei, Tighnari, Lyney, it’s unmistakable. You beg to be naïve again, hopelessly in love and enraptured.  

You’d rather keep your eyes shut. The sinister rampage spilling out of him is miles apart from the Ajax who serves you breakfast in bed every day and places soft kisses on your body from head to toe. Love is enough, and you know how much he does to show it. Was there another way? Is it your fault this happened? You can’t focus either or organize your jumbled thoughts, and find yourself searching for reassurance within him, any inkling of affection to prove he still loves you. When you sheepishly reach out to grab his wounded hand, he curls around it, and the thump in your heart reignites. A pulse loud enough to subside the dread clamoring in your feet, warning you to run. 

You make it home, and Ajax goes to the kitchen sink to wash away his crimes. He watches red cyclone down the drain, and you lean on a counter close to him. 

“Ajax?” 

“Yea?” he chirps.  

“Zhongli...will he be okay?” you meek. 

“Mhm. I didn’t kill him.” The matter-of-fact reply renders a shudder in your bones.  

“Is something wrong?” The kitchen is small, and from the way you’re standing you’ve closed yourself off to him. 

“No baby,  nothings….nothings wrong” he says, that convincing tone, smooth like satin. 

“But I’m worried. You’ve never acted like this before, tell me what’s on your mind.” He shuts off the water, and the cylindrical pull seeps a guttural groan. He grips the granite, and even that seems to deform. He finally turns to you, a hurt expression colliding with fiendish somber eyes and taut lips. 

“Am I not good enough for you?”  

“You are more than enough” you hearten. Ajax rebuttals a bitter laugh and spouts the candor he’d been gnawing on. 

“I tried. I tried ignoring your kindness. I tried being pitiful, hurting myself so that your eyes were only on me”, he creeps towards you, and your feet move on their own backpedaling. The echo of his self-inflicted scar produces beads of sweat, distracting so that the back of the wooden chair presses into your back and you almost topple over. Nowhere to go, and now he overshadows you with delicate fingertips slithering across your paling cheeks and behind your jaw, “but you’re surrounded by love. People love you.” 

His words drag and descend further, “Ohh, and it’s not fair at all.” 

“Why are they allowed your attention. It should be me. Only me. Don’t you want me?” Laced with love, but you can’t taste it. His dilated orbs ping-pong as they scan your face for confirmation. You bring your palms over his and muster fading courage in timid waves. 

“I love you Ajax. So, so much. But the way you’re acting scares me. It’s my fault and I could’ve gone home, but I haven’t seen them in a long time. I didn’t think things would end up like this.” He pauses, and engulfs you in an ardent embrace, his hand on the back of your head and another on your lower back. Oh, sweetie muffles through strands of your hair as he sways your bodies. You’re mannequin-like in his stifling sight. 

“Nononono, it’s not your fault honeypot. You’re too pure for this world, so kind without thinking. So perfect” he mumbles, absurd drivel seeping through the coherent parts in formidable notes—how he loves you, needs you, can’t live without you— “but they’re leeches. They try to taint you, show you horrible, disgusting things. That piece of shit was looking at me, he was asking for a fight. And he tried to put you in the middle. You could’ve gotten hurt, or God know what. I’ll protect you, my sweet, at any cost." 

“Ajax, I don’t need your protection.” It’s silent, profound when he retracts. You forget how to breathe or talk as he slides to your shoulders and holds them in place. His voice lowers. 

“You don’t need…me?” 

“No, that’s not what I’m saying-” 

“So let me help, let me be yours” he pleads. You don’t respond—you can’t. Each explanation you formulate sticks to the roof of your mouth and swells like a spell drunk in your throat. Ajax tenses, clinging to your skin. He reflects on a thought, and it blooms with a twinkle. 

“What if I just...lock you up?” 

“...What?” you say, hardly above a whisper. It’s arid to swallow, and shivers ripple under sweltering heat prickling your limbs. 

“I wouldn’t put you anywhere bad. It’d be a pretty place; I’ll take good care of you like I always do. Wouldn’t you like that?” He has a hopeful grin on his face, and when he lets you go for a second you jerk away from his reach. Your back hits the opposite wall, nauseous and lightheaded, shaking your head aggressively to push away the existence of the idea. He wrenches his neck, and you glimpse the deluded flush on his face. “No... I’m not gonna do that.” 

“Ah, sweetheart, I know it sounds scary. Can we try it first?”  

“You’re not gonna put me in some fucking cage like an animal” you assert. His eyebrows furrow, offended at your assumption that he’d trap you somewhere unpleasant. 

“I’d never do that to you. I love you.” He inches towards you, and you inch farther. The keys are in front of him, you can’t leave on your own. The steps you take feel critical. 

“Let’s sleep on it, we can discuss in the morning.” No. No no no no. You pan to the staircase, and Ajax curiously watches your paranoid glances. Before he can grab you, you sprint for the stairs. Wind travels in your ears and settles at your graceless movement catching hold of the banister, leverage used to leap. Adrenaline flows steadily in your veins, and your senses feel muddled to mush, focused on pushing your legs to proceed. There’s no room for thinking past the will of your body. You hear airy tsks coming from the dining room, and a singsong “Don’t make me chase you, baby.” 

Suddenly, the creaking floorboards succeed at a roaring parade marching behind you. Closer and closer, a sound you didn’t know he possessed. You don’t dare turn around; the squeak waltzes with your deafening heartbeat. You change direction, making haste to the peaceful bedroom you share, now eroding under his hearty stomps. You clash with the door, and barge in. Slamming it shut, your shaky hands promptly lock the knob. Ajax stops in front of the door and lets his fingertips dance along the wood, “Open the door, please.” 

The knob shakes aggressively, rattling in the socket and threatening to pop. It’s pulling against the edges of the door that rive at his harsh yanks. He perpetually pulls and twists it, “Darling, c’mon open the door, my sweet.” You’re sure if you don’t, he’ll axe his way through instead.  

“Please let me in, baby. Please, I’m dying without you.” 

“I don’t wanna fight anymore... please”, his tone barely lifts above the depth of wood, but you hear the faulty voice keeling in cracks. You know you shouldn’t open the door, but his sorrow beckons you as it often does. He wails so hopelessly, as if you’re punishing him for an unavoidable inevitable. It’s an innocent sob peerless to the ruthless violence he displayed hours before; the harrowing glare of the man you thought you knew was all too terrifying. But he’d never do that to you, would he? You’re his darling sweetheart, his infinity now and forever. You filled his divergent heart and sutured it anew. He needs you.  

Though your hands fidget to stay at their sides from common sense tucked in a forgone crevice of your headache, you force your hand up, and turn the knob. Maybe you should’ve never let him into the shop on that cold night, instead bidding him farewell and trudging in the snow to your crumby apartment. You’d continue running the shop as usual with Lyney. Things would’ve been different, wouldn’t have been so complicated to cut loose from tangling lies knotting the more he consumed you.  

But no, that couldn’t have happened. He would find you, it’s destiny that you’d never part. Stalking in bushes and narrow alleyways until the perfect moment he could walk towards you and catch your eye again, and you’d fall for another pass of courting words.  

Ajax stands there with sparkling sadness streaming down his cheeks that mingle with his quivering lips. He drops to his knees instantly in prayer and looks up at you with doey puffy eye bags that nearly make you overlook everything, about Zhongli, about the red flags that grow green the more you squint. It’s just you and him, that’s all it had to be. In times like these you reminisce about the sweet boy you cuddled and confided in, and things feel as they were. The messy-haired Ajax you remember pulls your lower half close to him with large hands that latch onto your waist the more you adjust. His face is mushed to merging in your stomach, and he sighs heavily, taking in your scent like the last breath he’ll ever have. They snake around you, and you meet eyes again. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I love you angel. So much I’d rip my heart out and put it in your hands…. you control me” Desperation clings to Ajax, and you urge to console him. You intertwine your fingers through his hair. 

“Ajax, this can’t happen again. Okay?” you caution, a warning dripping with compassion. 

“Mhm. Okay.” Unexpected warmth blooms over his cold aura, but the light doesn’t reach his eyes. His hands travel the contours of your hips and thighs, occasionally squeezing with an appreciative huff. He parts your legs and dips to your inner thighs to mold the doughy fat as his lips traverse your lower abdomen, decorating it with wanton kisses. “Love you so much” he utters. His touch is impassioned and fluid, he softens underneath your bottom and circles his thumb like a masseur. Ajax takes his time navigating your sensitive points, and switches between fluffy and solid pressure that licks down your back.  Skin to skin contact wasn’t enough, he wanted to crawl in your ribcage and live in your lungs so he could sense your steady breaths. He wanted to bask in your existence, feel the radiance of your touch and ethereal voice curl and melt into him, to make him nothing and all in your eyes. 

Your digits tangle in his hair, and when he nips your tummy, you tug his scalp. “Fuck” Ajax groans, strained through his lips. The peachy wash draping his cheeks is cherubic, appeased by the rhythmic kneading. One hand slinks under your shirt and guides a fingertip vertically on your spine, the other sculpts your rear. It’s dizzying how easy it is for Ajax to captivate you, a trance that turns your knees to jelly and leaves you at his mercy. You ignored the impulse igniting your muscles to push him off. You want him closer, suffocating you so deep the clouds of his scent dismantle your fear. You take his chin and redirect his attention, and he waits for order like a loyal dog.  

“Ajax.” 

“Whatever you want, princess” he toys, that boyish simper releasing butterflies through your body. 

“I want you.” He hoists you up without a word and carries you to the bed. He brings you down, a priceless vase above the pillowy cushioned bedding. “You comfortable?” You nod, blushing from the way Ajax gawks at your half-hiked shirt, and shorts hanging low on your hips. “Good.” He’s breathless, restraining his impulse to pounce and devour you. No matter how restive he was, Ajax usually prevented himself from indulging beyond your comfort; but tonight is different. It's starving while a succulent meal taunts you, only satiated by the sight of it. He hastily removes his shirt and pants, freckled muscles flexing as he discards them to the floor. It’s hard to avoid the growing spot staining his stretched white briefs. Spreading your legs, he crawls between them. He regards you for a second, but when you reach behind his head he plunges into a longing kiss.  

A longing kiss followed by hungrier ones. It’s abruptly rough and needy against your bruising lips, some skimming the corner of your mouth and tracking to the main course. He frees you for a breather, but the space doesn’t subdue the dull ache thrumming in your core. His nose brushes against yours, and you pull his flyaways back to get the full scale of his feral demeanor, sweating and reddening in the unshakable heat.  

You collide again, hands behind your head through the wild exchange. You can’t keep up; he bites your bottom lip and relieves it with the glide of his tongue. Your slow and steady lover begs for entry with a ravenous push, and you allow it to ruin you. The wet appendage invades your senses, explores your mouth in nonsensical shapes and withdraws with a filthy sound before returning. “So. Fucking. Good” he exhales through your intertwining tongues. You’re moaning into each other, lasting in the moment, forgetting everything. His hips start to grind against you, practically dry humping your clothed lower half. You wrap your legs around him and steer his twitching length to roll into you, nudging the inseam of your shorts to your neglected clit. He engulfs your moans, and retreats with strings of spit connecting your tumid lips. 

Ajax descends to your neck, and places damp and eager kisses along it. You feel the piercing remnant of a bite accompanied by sucking. His fangs pinch and snag and make you whimper. A budding purple and blue blend blotches to your collarbone--draining you like a vampire. His hands stay busy committing your curves to memory in greedy gropes. Ajax doesn’t notice his low rambling, “yea, you’d never leave me, right? I’m all you need”, to “you're mine.” It’s overstimulating, and so is the hammering pulse in your clit.  

Your abused neck is exposed to the delicious sweep of cold air, and he hurries to your shirt. In one swoop, it comes off with the impatient unclasp of your bra. He submerges a stiff peak in warmth while he works the other. His tongue swirls around the nipple, pushing in with a stiff tip and trading it for sucking. It elicits a moan where teeth graze and tweak the bud. “My pretty girl” he murmurs and delivers attention to the next. Ajax massages your spit-soaked tits firmly and diligently in fondling motions. His passion renders him shameless, and it encourages you to fold. You find yourself swerving your hips to his bulge to goad his thirst. He responds with languid nudging, and glances at the space inside your shorts, coated with slick film from your panties. Whine caught in his throat, he salivates and unconciously holds your legs apart. You impel him downwards, and he nuzzles the line to the hem of your shorts.  

“Can I taste you, princess?” It had to be hypothetical, since he was already unbuttoning them with his teeth and tearing them off. “Please?” he pants, a half-lidded mess itching to immerse in your desire. Before you can answer, a rrrip shreds through the room; the culprit of your mangled underwear remains, and you shriek. “Ajax!” you scold, but he’s not bothered when he rips the rest of it to display your arousal. “I’ll get you new ones, I’ll buy you the whole store” he sighs, forcing your thighs rearwards with his hands. He angles himself like a sniper and submerses in your pussy. 

Ajax doesn’t rush, he lazily trails his tongue around the outside and plays with the folds shlicking against him. He outlines the clit and meticulously weaves his skillful tongue, caring for the spots that make your back arch; paying special attention to your entrance, as he teasingly delves in just enough to coax a moan, then laps a flat tongue over your wetness. Ajax’s  ministrations are torturous, rapturing all while ignoring your release. He parts the labia and plashes the juices covering his chin and glossy lips. Your heart is in your ears, winding and coiling at the flicks of his tongue, his fingertips forging red indents on your thighs. Ajax begins to rock himself into the mattress, a fleeting friction comforting his sore erection. His leisurely grinding matches the pace of his mouth making out with your pussy. Mmmf he groans, and the vibrations oscillate. He gently slurps your lips, gasping for another mouthful and lapping at your clit. Your back levitates, and you tug his scalp. It only earns another growl, and faster swipes over the sensitive bud. 

“O-oh fuck” you moan, watching Ajax lose his composure and rut himself into the bed like an animal. He’s panting with a quiver, whimpering some rendition of your name until he sputters. He jolts from the material emptying his balls and soaking the sheets, but his energy doesn’t deplete—It seems to motivate him as he hoists you to his mouth. Ajax always prioritizes your pleasure, but it’s difficult to stop him once he’s invested. And he isn’t done feasting, sloppily eating you up with little concern for your fluttering senses. He rides out his orgasm and brings you to yours, and you hardly realize the intoxicating slide over your clit spelling his name. Ajax, Ajax, Ajax, marked into you; It brings you to a chant as you come undone. Ajax doesn’t waste a drop, avidly cleaning up the juices pulsating out. “Thank you, fuck, thank you so much” he whispers. He swills the bud, and you spasm and squirm from ecstasy in his iron grip. “Ajax, p-please.” 

“I got you.” He gives one last French kiss before exiting tranquility. A combination of spit and arousal blankets his mouth, and he smiles like the happiest man alive. “You okay?” Not a thought in fruition, tender mellowness smothering you. You wince from the prolonged position, and he immediately puts you on your side.  

“Need to feel you.” He wrings his underwear down, and reveals his pulsing shaft adorned with beads of come dribbling down the rosy pale tip. He’s above you, trapping one leg over his shoulder, and aligns himself with your sex. “Perfect tits, perfect pussy. You’re so beautiful, all for me.” The bulb slips in effortlessly, and he sighs at the muscle clenching around him. Each inch drives seamlessly into you, stretching your unadjusted frame. He lulls on your ankle, absorbed by the coziness enveloping the base until he bottoms out. Then it’s unmoving. Agonizing, even, the way you feel him twitch inside. “Y-you can move now.” 

“Let’s just stay like this for a little.” He rubs your leg, savoring the serene patter of rain smacking the wide windows and toasty light dusting your dazed appearance. It’s intimate and placid minus the rise and fall of your bodies, and you’re surprisingly shy. You rush to cover your face, but Ajax grabs you. “Don't hide, pretty girl. You’re stunning” he flirts, kissing your hand. 

“Do you love me?” His blinks are exaggerated, confused that you’d ask such an obvious question. 

“Of course.” 

“What do you love about us?” He brings your hand to his cheek. “You complete me. You’ve forgiven me, loved me, and accepted me for who I am. I can be open around you.” He kisses your wrist, silken as to quell the trivial thoughts resurfacing. 

“I’ll love you until the end. I’ll find you in the next life and start all over, even when this universe collapses. I won’t let anyone get in our way, so love me forever.” Ajax pulls out to the tip, and you whine at the loss of wholeness. Then, he drives his sticky cock unhurriedly to the hilt. You mewl, and he palms your chest. “Shh, ‘s okay.” The milky translucent trail links you and erupts obscene syrupy noises. “What are you thinking for baby names?” You can’t focus, the swinging strokes graze your g-spot. You’d say anything to him at this point; you need him deeper. He casually thumbs your clit and continues at a sluggish tempo. “I really like the name Aleksei” In and out, veins embellishing your walls. You meet his thrusts and shudder, though he stops occasionally to redirect the sopping length. 

“A-ahn, you’re so wet, it keeps slipping out” he moans. He picks up the speed, squelching stirring with whimpers. “I love you, honeypot. Sosososo fucking much, just wanna breed this pretty pussy every second of the day. Ah- you wanna be a mommy, yeah? We can have a big family, hah, just you me and the kids. Wouldn’t you like that, darling?” He’s drilling into you, stuffed to bursting. You feel yourself approaching and seize his wrist. “’M close!” 

“Give it to me, fuck, please” Ajax whines, and you climax under him, juices saturating his balls. You don’t get time to recover; he fucks you through your orgasm. You’re reeling, clawing at his forearm when he puts you flat on your back. “Wanna come inside. Can I, please? I want it so bad” he pleads. He adjusts you to a mating press with brute force, and plummets inside.  

It’s vicious, staggering plap’s and squelching audible from outside. The headboard bangs on the wall while he pummels your pussy. A sheen of lust shrouds his eyes, and his heavy balls smack against your ass as he wrecks you. More, more, more drowns him in senseless fucking, precome frothing at the base. You convulse around him, and he burrows full throttle. When his tongue finds yours, you interweave through the sloppy pumps. His balls tighten, and he chases his high frenetically bobbing. “O-oh, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.” Harsher, meaner strokes hit you quick, and Ajax melts into endless whimpers striking his climax. Ropes of thick white paint your insides, teeming to globs where they crowd your pussy and leak to your ass. Ajax bucks into you, and you milk him dry. The shakes eventually stop, and he goes limp on top of you. You feel him softening, his steady inhale. He smiles at you, showering you with affection you couldn’t resist.  

“I should use the bathroom” you suggest, patting his back as a signal to get off. “Sure. Wait here, I’ll get you cleaned up.” He returns after an eternity, with cloudy water and a tepid towel. 

“Here, drink this.” You take the cup and sip. Ajax tips it a bit, urging you to gulp. He wipes you down lovingly while you swallow the contents. He disregards your vulva, however, collecting the come on his fingers and pushing it in. Oddly, you’re leaden—insanely leaden, so much so that your head tilts to one side and threatens to give up entirely. Your knees are wobbly, and your bones are lost in a dreamlike state. Ajax passes the towel under your chest.  

“You know, I didn’t feel bad about it, when I strung his guts across the wall. I only thought of you.”  

No. It can’t be true. 

You can’t scream or fight, and simply gape at the words hulking through your numbed rationale. The towel cools your sweat, but the fear persists.  

“I met him behind your complex. He was bitching about rent, sleazy fucking scum. I asked him if you live there, and he went on a rant about it. Saying nasty stuff no one should ever say about you. I couldn't help it, (Y/N), I had to see his organs carved out of his body.” Your jackhammering heart doesn’t compare to your sloth behavior. You want to run, move in with your parents again and pretend; pretend like your life hasn’t been propelled into disarray, pretend that the ginger boy caressing your face didn’t butcher a man.  

“Ajax, let me go” you cried, a teardrop coursing across your temple. He wipes it, “I’m not holding you, dear. You can’t stand on your own right now, but the effect will wear off after you sleep. Rest for now, okay sweetie?” 

“What did you put...in my...” You’re swooning, ferried by the effect of the unknown medicine sprinkled in your cup. With no will to combat, your eyes reluctantly close. His pupils are desolate and obscure, the night of a severe blizzard. 

“I’m sorry, but I won’t make the same mistake twice.” 

tags: @zhochikennugget (if anyone else would like to be tagged, dm and i'll tag you on the next one :)

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin au #ajax smut #ajax x reader #tartaglia smut #tartaglia x reader #childe tartaglia ajax #childe smut #childe x reader #genshin impact #genshin tartagalia #i need ajax BAD #so sorry about the wait this time

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hi If you still do recuest's for twst

Can I recuest's the dorm leaders x GN!reader that is like the mad hatter?

Madhatter Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

You’re wild and wacky with a love for tea and making hats. You’re never in one place long mentally and physically. Your suitors are often left to question everything when you seem to tip and top off the thin line of sanity:

Malleus Draconia

“Hi Hi Horns have you burped towards the roses today?”

“Roses? Do you mean the ones in Heartslaybul? And would that be polite? To burp on them?”

He’s the perfect accessory to your insanity

He’s plenty gullible to listen to you

even when your requests border that morale of good and evil 

He’s usually picking you

His eccentric little lover

There’s never a dull moment with you by his side

He starts having a problem though when there are others sitting in on your tea parties

His rainstorms don’t necessarily mean the absolute end when it comes to you

But they usually do for your unsuspecting participants

You’re so wonderful for him

He can’t let anyone enjoy his human as much as he does

“My child of man, may we do my head fitting? I’d love to feel you soft pads against my scalp.”

Kalim Al Asim

“What are you doing (Y/n)-chan?”

“I am stretching for the annual beetle festival.”

“Beetle festival? Can I join?”

“You may but you have to eat a lady-bug first.”

“Okay!”

You guys are like kids in a candy shop 

For Kalim, he never thinks to question your sanity

You're just an exciting person

He soon finds himself supplying whatever you need to fulfill your shenanigans

And something nasty creeps up when someone (Jamil) tells you to stop

“I can make it so we can finish our tea party….by ourselves this time.”

Idia Shroud

“Come on Fireplace! Drink this tea!”

“B-but you b-brewed that in your hat…!”

“Yes that’s how you’ll know it’s sanitary!”

“Y-you’re weird.”

“Why thank you!”

He just thinks you’re the weirdest person he’s ever met

At first, he thinks its really just fascination 

With the way, you randomly dance in the direction of the cameras that were supposed to be secret

That you were different just like him

And he thought just being allies was good enough

But now he’s plotting the demise of the normie that decides to dance along with you

“There aren’t many who can handle people like us! That’s why I can’t let anyone else have you.”

Riddle Rosehearts

“Let the unbirthday party begin!”

“(Y/n), hands should be out. Elbows off the table.”

“Whoopie did you see this dessert!”

“I did now sit in your seat.”

He has a weird ability to govern you 

No one understands it 

He barely understands it 

But you two mostly get along 

He often knows how to speak your language 

Something that many seem to struggle with

But he’s the go-to person to reign you in

That’s just the way he likes it+

“Come (Y/n) you’re a good hatter. I need one for our teaparty this evening. Make it.” 

Vil Schoenheit

“You’re sense of style is certainly unique.”

“Thanks the cobwebs were my latest addition!”

“What!? Cobwebs that can’t be healthy!”

“Oooh a hat made of cake!”

He thinks you're cute but he worries your lack of sanity leads you to make bad decisions

Like having hats with holes for nonexistent limbs

As well as your affinity for drinking tea for a meal 

And probably worst of all being friends with potatoes who can’t handle you 

Which is why Vil’s here

“Didn’t you read the schedule? We’re having tea, tonight so leave those potatoes behind.”

Leona Kingscholar

“Its time for the puppy hat party!”

“...Will you stop, I’m trying to sleep!”

“But it’s time for the party!!!!”

“I’m going to kill you.”

He thinks you're so cute 

But he loves it most when you card your hands through his hair while fitting his head for a hat

But part of your insanity has you being quite energetic

Which clashes with his love for sleep 

So he might meddle a little with the tea you seem addicted to it

So he might slip something in 

To make sure he gets his snuggly hatter in his bed

“Come on Herbivore you seem exhausted. If you’re not that tired you can fit me for a hat.”

#yandere leona kingscholar #yandere leona x reader #yandere leona kingscholar x reader #yandere leona #yandere vil x reader #yandere vil schoenheit #yandere vil twst #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle x reader #yandere riddle roseheart x reader #yandere riddle #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus #yandere kalim al asim #yandere kalim x reader #yandere kalim #yandere twst dormleaders #yandere idia shroud #yandere idia shroud x reader #yandere idia x reader #yandere idia

[outpastthemoat]

the thing about mr. hatter is that he is a black hole of a character.  we know NOTHING about him except that he was proud of his daughters and sent them to a prestigious school, and went heavily into debt for it.  we don’t know how he treated his daughters, or if he paid them any attention for anything other than scholastic achievement, or if he had an obvious favorite child; all we know about mr. hatter is how his death affected his family.  and I think the lack of personal information on mr. hatter is a choice that diana made on purpose.  

because without telling us that mr. hatter was a bad father or a unrelentingly strict man, without including a single scene where he shouts at his daughters or acts coldly to his young - very young - new wife, she leaves space for us to slowly realize what is not so obvious, what sophie herself does not recognize or understand about her family: that none of the hatters truly know each other, only the roles they have played for so long.

the death of a beloved and loving father would have been deeply grieved.  fanny would have been inconsolable.  sophie would be shedding green silme, so to speak, left and right.  lettie would have taken to her bed.  martha would be sobbing in her friends’ arms.

instead, what we see in the aftermath of mr. hatter’s death is this: fanny goes about her business, briskly gets each of her daughters settled in a trade, and then wipes her hands clean of the hat shop and marries agains, within three months of her husband’s death.  lettie is full of anger and rebellion and runs away from her apprenticeship; martha blames fanny for all her problems - and lettie and sophie’s too - and runs away from her apprenticeship.  

and sophie.

never says a word about her father once he dies.  does not miss him.  does not think about him, not ever.  only regrets leaving her prestigious school.  and goes into a sharp depression that has nothing to do with losing a beloved family member and everything to do with seeing a promising future that she’d worked so hard for taken away.

this was not a happy family when mr. hatter was alive.  diana never tells us so, but you can tell from clues she sprinkles in throughout the story that mr. hatter was not a kind or even particularly moral man. 

the most glaringly obvious sign of dysfunction in the hatter family, of course, is that immediately after his wife died, mr. hatter married fanny, his youngest shop assistant, who very soon afterward gave birth to the youngest hatter daughter: the implication being that he had been having an affair before mrs hatter died, and that he carried on with fanny, who was probably no older than sophie herself when she entered that hat trade, who was no position to tell him no and had few choices she could make for herself.  

there is sophie’s intense perfectionism and dedication to the hat trade despite hating it, a sign that mr. hatter probably demanded perfection and obediance from his daughters.; she probably worked equally hard to achieve good grades and accolates at school.  notably, neither martha nor lettie regret leaving their school - but neither of them seem to have internalized perfectionism to sophie’s degree.  

there are mentions of sophie frequently acting as a caregiver to martha and lettie; she has become a partent-figure towards her sisters and even fanny, who is not much older than she is.  and it’s clear that sophie has deeply internalized that sense of parentification and duty - she stays late at the hat shop, well after the other employees leave - and can’t force herself to abandon the hat shop until she becomes an old woman, because she believes fanny needs her to keep working.  sophie so deeply believes herself as worthless unless she is serving others that she becomes a housecleaner in the very first place she finds, and then spends the entire book scrubbing howl’s floors and sweeping his rafters, keeping herself so busy that she never has a chance to wonder why she thinks she is only valuable when she gives every part of herself to others.

this is a family that keeps secrets from each other - lettie and martha plot to subvert fanny’s and mrs fairfax’s plans, sophie runs away from home in disguise because she is afraid of her family seeing her as she truly is - they ALL hide from each other.  fanny does not really know martha or lettie or sophie’s true natures, she makes assumptions about what trade each daughter would like to be settled in; sophie herself is shocked to learn a new side to her sisters when they subvert their destiny. and her perception of fanny is shaken through the book: sophie looks at her and is surprised to realize that fanny is still young and pretty and wanted more in life than a hat shop, just like sophie herself, but had done her best for her girls with the resources that she had at the time.

howl’s moving castle doesn’t tell the story of a grieving family who rises above the loss of a beloved patriach - it would be quite a different book if it was.  instead, it’s the coming-of-age story of four women who finally have a chance to learn who they truly are, instead of who they thought they were supposed to be.

#howl's moving castle #diana wynne jones #sophie hatter #my meta

[abybweisse]

Ch211 (p4), Travel-ready

Just like with Baldo's mission with Lau, we are getting a cliffhanger, so hopefully the kids make it to our earl ok....

We go back in time, yet again, to Lau's opium den. This time, it's Sebastian and our earl getting ready to leave on their mission to Brighton. Sebastian's uniform is now clean, so he dons it.

Then Ran-Mao and the other ladies who work there bring in a bunch of clothes ordered by Sebastian. I see a hat box with Lock & Co Hatters on it and several boxes from Nina Hopkins' shop.

Sebastian goes to get his master ready to leave, but our earl doesn't know how to pay the tab to Nina. Sebastian seems confident that our earl will regain his title and funds, then he can pay the bill plus a nice tip.

"Clothes reeking of opium are unbefitting of you." 🙄 😆

Sebastian goes over his master's cover story, for going to the resort hotel, while dressing him.

And emphasizes the importance of Earl Phantomhive being fashionable in bespoke clothing.

Ready for travel... and another turn at chess with his brother.

I'm wondering how on earth they will walk into the hotel controlled (ultimately) by Undertaker and real Ciel... as Earl Phantomhive and his butler. Are they not going incognito this time? A bold chess move, indeed, if they just walk in like this, even if it's run by some random person from the Aurora Society. People will recognize them; there will be talk. There's been front page news about the scandal.

Maybe that's the intention, at this point. But... can they get away with it for long enough before local police or the Yard shows up again?

🤔 Maybe they take on some disguise before they enter the hotel....

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #ch211 #chapter release #chapter review #chapter analysis #opium den #lau #ran mao #sebastian michaelis #earl phantomhive #our earl #nina hopkins #lock & co hatters #brighton #resort hotel #cliffhanger #apr 18 2024 #part four #part 4

[mytheoristavenue]

What the Straw Hats get you for Valentine's Day!

Summary: How your nakama surprise you for the most romantic holiday!

Warnings: All fluff, platonic!Chopper, fem!reader

Straw Hat Luffy:

Luffy frowned as he tilted the hat in his hands, inspecting it's quality. He'd commissioned it recently from a hatter on the last island, whom he'd compensated handsomely to keep quiet about their deal. The hatter had promised the pirate a replica of his own, down to the last detail, and Luffy assumed that the ins and outs of the task must have gotten lost in translation. This new hat lacked all the nicks, stitches, and frays that his had.

As usual, the captain decided to take matters into his own hands, taking a dagger, needle and thread and began molding the straw hat into an exact copy of his own. Finally he was satisfied with level of destruction he'd inflicted on the thing, he stepped back from it and smiled. In the dead of night, he crept into your room to set the gift on your nightstand with a note that read:

'A king needs a queen, and a queen needs a crown. Happy Valentine's.'

Pirate Hunter Zoro:

Zoro hummed in almost an irritated manner as he drug the cold steel of your weapon of choice through his microfiber cloth covered hand. He was so vexed over practically being forced to shine all your weapons for this stupid holiday- even though nobody asked him. He had no choice! He didn't want to go through the trouble of picking you out a gift you probably wouldn't even like, so he had to.

Then again, he wouldn't have been breaking a law if he hadn't given you a Valentine's Day surprise...but then you'd nag him about it! (Or so he'd convinced himself.)

Cat Burglar Nami:

Nami mulled over her decisions, literally weighing her options. In one hand, she held a beautiful diamond necklace, adorned with a pattern of pearl cut sapphires for color- and in the other, a 14 karat gold tennis bracelet with round cut emeralds all throughout. She sucked her lip into her bite, brows furrowed and unsure of which you'd like more. Or perhaps would wouldn't like either. She knew the ship was too far from any landmass to chance any chance at getting something else. Maybe she could just tell you she forgot to get you something, and then take you on a shopping spree at the next one?

With a hopeless sigh, she sat on her bed, groaning dramatically. She knew she was being silly and that you'd love any type of gift. You weren't as materialistic as you were, and she tended to give present that she would like to receive, but you always adored them. Maybe both..." she muttered, dragging herself off the mattress and out of her pity party to walk over to her dresser. On top of it sat a sparkling red gift box with a satin pillow inside.

Delicately, she laid the necklace out on it, before retrieving a piece of tissue paper and wrapping the bracelet in it, setting it on top. Finally, she crumbled the remaining paper and stuffed it into the box, so as to obscure the shine of the jewels, before setting the lid on and tying a silver bow around it, relieved to have made a decision.

God Usopp:

The gift that Usopp had in mind to give you was months in the making. He'd gifted you things for many other holidays since he begun this little project, having started it all the way back in April of last year. All his hard work had paid off though- all the late nights and early mornings and trips to certain islands to make sure he had the perfect supplies. On his desk sat the most perfect Ghost Orchid in an ornate pot. He'd gotten the seed from a shop that sold rare plants several islands back.

Apart of him was nervous that the flower might die in your care, after all the work he invested in it. The orchid was also endangered, which lead him to anxiously envision it being stolen if any enemy pirates ever looted the Sunny. With a deep breath he shook those thoughts away, sighing with a smile as he sat down at his desk to admire the gift. Tying a ribbon around the pot, with a small name card attached, his mind drifted off to more pleasant things, like how you might react to the gesture. Usopp was sure you'd cry, you always did when you received unexpected gifts. He was certain you'd agree to be his Valentine, most likely giving him an over joyed hug- maybe even a kiss. Blushing and snapping out of his daydreams, he paused, a bit embarrassed of himself.

Black Leg Sanji:

Sanji stayed up all night on the thirteenth, unbeknownst to the rest of the crew. He slaved tirelessly in the kitchen, crafting you the most decadent chocolates ever made. Chocolatiering was always something that he excelled at but it was his current occupation rarely had room for such a skill, that's why he loved Valentine's Day. Each truffle took him hours to create, but simply thinking of the way your eyes would light up- the way you'd at first refuse to try them, lest you risk ruining their beauty, only to cave and melt at the taste kept him going with a smile.

Once he had finally curated a dozen pieces, each not at all similar to the last, in flavor or presentation, he arranged them carefully in a heart shaped box that he'd bought from the last island, and fed the contents of which to Luffy. He wanted you to think he'd simply purchased a cheap treat for you, only to find his hand crafted assortment instead.

Cotton Candy Lover Chopper:

Chopper held a bubble of air in his cheeks as he snuck about the ship in the dead of night, well beyond his bedtime. Quietly, he his way to the deck and ascended the stairs to the gardens of his crewmates, basket and ribbons in hand. He snicker devilishly as he went through the rows, ignoring the signs labeling 'Nami/Usopp/Robin's garden, Keep out!' assigned to each respective section.

As he passed by Nami's orchard, he plucked a few of her sacred tangerines from their branches and stowed them away in his basket, before moving on to the sniper's plot, picking the least deadly looking greens he could find. Finally he made his way to Robin's flower bed and selected the prettiest curation of blossoms he could put together, before tying them together at the stems with a pink bow.

Devil Child Robin:

Robin combed through the shelves of the lounge, many extra sets of hands sprouting around the room to pick a select few books from their places. Each limb passed it's claim to one another until they reached her view for inspection. With he approval, she collected them all in stacks of three on the table, all to be tied with ribbon. The theme she'd chosen was 'tragic romance', opting for 'Romeo and Juliet' and 'Jane Eyre', just to name a few.

She had thought it a wonderful way to spend the holiday of love snuggled up with you, reading you the saddest love stories ever written to remind both of you how deep and healthy of a relationship you shared.

Cyborg Franky:

Franky wiped the sweat of his brow with a large hand, before his dainty one returned to work, tinkering and putting the final touches on his latest and most important project. Satisfied with it's out come, he grinned before falling back against the back of his chair. He was sure you'd go feral over his.

Running one last test to make sure it functioned perfectly, he wound the tiny key on the side of the mechanical box, watching it open to reveal a beautiful porcelain dancer spinning, and occasionally stopping for a pirouette on her platform.

When the display drew to a closer, the doll folded back into her hiding place and the hatch closed again as the song ended flawlessly. He chuckled a bit at his success, and delicately cradled the device, carrying it to a decorative box before wrapping it as a gift.

Soul King Brook:

All Brook could do to calm his nerves was tune carefully tune his violin, ivory phalanges trembling, a shake which traveled up his arm with a rattle- his bones clambering together. Once he could no longer deny that the instrument was in tune as it would ever get, he forced himself to gently set it down on it's stand before adjusting his sheet music.

Without a doubt, he was terrified for the most important concert of his life, the one that might ensure your place by his side for eternity- the one that he hoped would charm you into accepting his proposal.

Knight of the Sea Jinbe:

Jinbe grinned warmly, gently pinching an old photograph of you and himself, reminiscing on the moment it was taken, many years ago. Finally after a moment of looking back on the past, he carefully encased it in a golden frame, fastening the buttons that held it in place with the utmost care. After done, he wrapped the object with love, eager to bestow it upon you the next morning.

#one peice #one piece x reader #monkey d. luffy #luffy x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #god usopp #usopp x reader #cat burglar nami #nami x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #tony tony chopper #chopper x reader #nico robin #nico robin x reader #franky x reader #cyborg franky #soul king brook #brook x reader #jinbe x reader

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Istg Sophie not realizing she might be magic and the Lettie Debacle are funniest fucking things to me in the whole book.

To start, Sophie has two sister: Lettie Hatter her full sister from her father and mother, and Martha Hatter her half-sister from her father and Fanny.

Fanny, who now runs the hat shop, is ready to move on and solidifies Sophie’s role as the eldest when she sends Martha to Mrs.Fairfax to become a witch apprentice while Lettie works at the local bakery. Sophie notices when going to visit “Lettie” that she is actually Martha!

She soon get mixed up with Howl and through the stay small things start to happen, whenever Sophie wills something to happen, it starts to. The best example being Howls patterned cloak which she believed helped bewitch Lettie.

The real Lettie btw. As it turns out Micheal goes down to Market Chipping and falls in love with a Lettie “Martha” Hatter. Which shocks Sophie who tells them she has a niece named Lettie but it can’t be the same Lettie. Then Howl comes along claiming his love for Lettie, the real Lettie who looks a little like Martha still at the Fairfax house. Still assures that’s not Sophie’s Lettie or Micheal’s Lettie. Then Micheal’s Lettie who is Martha tells of her sister Sophie and Martha (Lettie) and Howl’s Lettie (Real Lettie) tells of her sisters Lettie (Martha) and Sophie because she saw through Howl’s Bull shit immediately. So Micheal and Howl confirm that Sophie is Sophie bewitch to be old Sophie but actually a young woman named Sophie who is the sister to Lettie-Martha and Martha-Lettie.

And the Sophie who finds out that they know what she knows and almost kills them with weed killer and still ponders if she’s magic as if her two blood sisters are not magical!

At some point she had to consider that Papa Hatter had some magic attack in the coat pocket for the funniest bit in the fucking book to even be possible.

#shitpost #shitposting #hmc #hmc book #diana wynne jones #howl's moving castle #howell jenkins #howl jenkins pendragon #sophie hatter #Lettie Hatter #Martha hatter #Fanny hatter #this cracks me up #whenever I think of it #Istg that had her stressed out 😭

[hezzabeth]

Everyone who lived on Baker Street had come out from the fog to eat Nanni’s dinner. This made perfect sense; Nanni was one of the few people in the park who knew how to cook meals using ingredients and an oven.

When the park was still open, Revati's home was a coffee shop called the “Mad Hatter Teaparty.” The walls were painted in eye-watering clashing shades of neon pink and green. The light fixtures hanging from the ceiling were all giant velvet top hats. The booths were giant flower teacups with tiny chairs and tables inside.

"Was there some sort of drug in the pineapple?" Revati heard Brigadeiro ask. Revati just ignored him and instead walked past each of the booths, collecting tributes; nobody ate Nanni’s for free.

The Paprikas sat in the blue and gold teacup, their neon orange hair clashing with the paint. The Paprikas were two brothers and their sister who had found themselves trapped in the park as children. Their parents had been vaporized by a towel-warming rack. Now they were in their mid-twenties and worked for Revati as hired muscle for free dinners.

"Who's the new guy? He's actually clean and good-looking," the youngest brother Brie asked Revati. "His name is Brigadeiro Bun; he's an off-world tourist who stupidly went to the wasteland," Revati said. "I was trying to find crystal roses," Brigadeiro smiled helpfully.

"Bridgadeiro huh? So your parents were Goup worshippers then?" The sister, Juniper, asked curiously. Revati vaguely knew that Goupism was a popular religion on other colonies. Over a thousand years ago, there was once a woman who apparently traveled the earth gathering the best health practices needed to be “happy.” "A white woman, and she stole most of her ideas from our eastern religions," Amma, who was a staunch atheist, had snapped with annoyance when Revati asked her to explain the Paprika siblings' religion. Still, despite her thievery, at some point, she had become a god. They firmly believed in things such as “psychic vampires” and “color-balancing therapy.” They also all had peculiar food-related names, mainly because the goddess had named her daughter Apple.

"Yes, they were. They insisted on coming here for a Wellness Day holiday," the eldest brother, Croquette, growled. "I miss mama's Wellness Day Avocado and chocolate cookies," Juniper sighed sadly. "It's not the same, but here I have a couple of factory-made ones in my pocket," Brigadeiro said, crawling into the booth. The Paprika siblings gasped with astonishment as he pulled a packet of cookies wrapped in gold paper out of his jumpsuit's gigantic pocket. "They got a bit crushed when I was kidnapped, but they're still good," he said, opening the package and placing it on the table. The Paprika siblings stared at the cookies, their mouths slack with shock. Croquette slowly shook his head, completely snatched the package, and began to serve the crushed crumbs amongst his siblings. "You need to keep this one forever," Juniper said firmly, and Revati just shook her head, moving onto the next table.

The next table consisted of the elderly Gupta couple. "You adopted another kid? If you want more water for him, we want more dried apples," Mrs. Gupta said, a small scowl on her wizened face. It was Mr. Gupta who had figured out how to gather and purify water from the atmosphere. It was Mrs. Gupta who managed and recorded all the water they collected, rolling it out like a tyrannical dictator. "Fine, one extra package of dried apples per week," Revati said before swishing grandly onwards.

Amma was sitting in the pink cup, her new partner Dusk Brisbane. Dusk Brisbane was a teacher from Titan, who, along with their students on a field trip, found themselves stuck in the park. Like all people from Titan, Dusk had inherited the ability to rapidly change biological genders. Titan had also inherited a name that meant a time of day and a gender. Dusk’s remaining students were sitting with Dityaa on a large cat-shaped sofa. When the invasion began, there were twenty-three of them. Now there were only five nineteen-year-olds left. Dityaa was holding court over all of them, sitting on a couch shaped like a giant grinning beast. "Your sister said you had an interesting night," Amma remarked as Revati sat down next to her. Nanni had laid out a plate of aloo mushroom curry. Revati picked up a piece of hardtack and dipped it into the sauce, refusing to talk. "So you're not even going to bother telling your side of the story?" Amma asked as Revati swallowed. Nanni always moaned that her cooking was so much better before the war. Years ago, Nanni worked in the city as a professional meal prepper for wealthy families that wanted to eat real organic food.

Nanni was proud of her ability to create one hundred percent sand-free meals using the most exotic ingredients. Nanni would bemoan to everyone that her meals were now a mess, that her spices were too basic, and that she never had enough salt. Revati, however, who had never tried anything else, thought her food was delicious. "I'm hungry! Besides, what's the point in telling my side? I'm sure Dityaa's story was more enthralling," Revati replied. "Every story needs both sides and the truth," Dusk remarked. As they spoke, their features shifted from a feminine middle-aged woman's face to a man's face with a beard. "You're not my creative writing teacher, and you're not my parent," Revati pointed out.

Revati knew deep down she didn’t dislike Dusk; Dusk was a perfectly decent person. Not to mention Amma had been so lonely until Dusk offered to help her teach the feral children a year ago. Still, it was a lot to get used to.

“True, but your mother did ask you a question, and I think she deserves an answer," Dusk replied in that same mild diplomatic voice. Revati deliberately ate another mouthful of curry before wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her dress. "Dityaa got attacked by some lady at the ball; the chutiya had A.I. eye implants! They must have switched on somehow," Revati explained. "Mind your mouth, Revati! There will be no swearing at the dinner table," Amma scolded her. "Her implants switched on? That's so odd; one of my students had AI tastebuds, but they stopped working the second we walked into the park," Dusk remarked, their face shifting back into a woman's as they glanced at one of their students. The student in question, Basil Paris, was sitting next to Dityaa, licking their hand. Dusk was right; in order to create true "historical authenticity," the park was surrounded by massive mirrors. The volcanic Martian glass blocked the "AI" life stream. "And what did you do?" Amma asked in a quiet, nervous voice. "I threw a glass of vodka at her face, and her eyes fried up," Revati replied.

"Can you take the children's sign language lesson tomorrow morning? I need to check the mirrors around the walls," Amma said to Dusk.

"Of course," Dusk replied, and Revati rolled her eyes.

"You don't need to do anything, Amma! I'm the elected leader of Baker Street! This is my job," Revati said firmly.

"You're only seventeen!" Amma protested.

"Almost everyone voted for me! Well, apart from Mrs. Gupta, who voted for herself," Revati said, and mother sighed.

"Fine! But you're not going to leave well after the sun rises, and you're not taking Cora and Laila! You can take Vivienne and Jay Jr.," Mother replied firmly.

Nine minutes past midnight.

Revati's eyes snapped open in the blue-glowing darkness. Slowly, she sat up, taking in the familiar shapes of the kitchen's walk-in freezer. Dityaa was sleeping next to her on the souvenir pillows Amma had sewn together into a makeshift bed. In the corner, the feral children slept together in a nest made of old soft toys. Nanni was snoring on one of the plastic shelves that had long ago stored ice cream. Amma insisted on them all sleeping behind the massive metal doors. To anyone who lived near any other planet, it would have been freezing, but Martians had evolved to withstand the cold.

Revati stood up and glanced down at Dityaa. Dityaa had worn her new dress to bed, ignoring the stains. The blood on her dress looked shiny black, her face shadowy blue. She looked just like Princess Savitri in the family book of fairy tales. Revati, on the other hand, had changed into her pajamas, which consisted of a long-sleeved men's shirt three sizes too big. The red fabric hung to her knees, and the words "Olde Landon Halloweenfest 3544" had been printed across the front. Revati picked up her blanket, draping it around her shoulders. Sleep wasn't going to return any time soon. Revati reached underneath her part of the mattress until she found the stories.

Outside the metal doors, Revati could hear distant voices, and carefully she slid the door open. Amma and Dusk were sitting together on the cat-shaped couch, murmuring to each other over tea.

"I don't see how they could know..." Amma began, and then she trailed off, spotting Revati.

"Insomnia again?" She asked gently, and Revati nodded, walking past the two of them.

"If you're going up to the greenhouse, be quiet; I made a bed for the boy up there," Mother replied.

"Really, Amma? You couldn't give him a bed?" Revati asked, opening the front door.

"He would freeze in the fridge, and he said he liked plants," Mother replied.

Outside, the fog was still shifting, and Revati moved ten spaces to the right.

"Evening, boss," Juniper's voice called, and she suddenly appeared holding a jar filled with glowing mushrooms.

"Any problems?" Revati asked.

"Nope, it's been a pretty quiet night!" Juniper said.

"Good, make sure your brother takes over your shift! We don't want you fainting from sleep deprivation again," Revati replied.

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo2023 #regency core #art #science fiction #life on mars #fantasy #speculative worldbuilding #winter wonderland #winter

[darlingdawnvintage]

Fabulous ✨Vintage Fur Hats ✨1950•1960’s era - see my Etsy link to shop

#vintage fashion #shop vintage #vintage #vintage shop #60's fashion #vintage shopping #50s fashion #vintage hats #fur hat #winter wonderland #winter hat #snow skiing #snowbunny #mad hatter #Instagram

[teaboot]

I have the flu so bear with me but since the mad hatter from Alice in wonderland has a price tag on his hat labeled 10 shilling and 6 pence do you think you could walk up to him and buy it off his head. Is he advertising all his hats by wearing them. Would he have to immediately make a new one to put on or does he have more in storage somewhere. Does he have a shop. Are all his hats identical. Is he contastantly wearing different hats and we only see this one cause the story is so short. Would it be a power move to wear his hat after you buy it

[dilatorywriting]

(just a thought I wanted to shared thinking of grandpa Vil) Howl's moving castle au, Vil's beautiful so you think he'd be howl but no, he's an old grandpa crying about his beauty, you think the poor ol guy has started losing his marbles and let him in to live out his days traveling

Vil: "I used to be so beautiful, royalty envied my beauty, I was a muse!"

reader: "Okay grandpa, lets get you to bed, I'll bring you some tea" :)

Holy fuck holy fuck. Howl’s Moving Castle is genuinely my favorite movie. This is killing me. Also I know this is definitely going in a very different brain direction BUT LIKE. I CAN’T HELP IT

Vil as the Witch of the Wastes, desperately doing everything he can to maintain his youth and beauty. Neige as Suliman’s young prodigy, who easily sweeps in one day to take his place, leaving the once first choice to be the Royal’s Head Wizard as nothing more than a bookend. Vil who after losing access to all the grand magics of the Academy trades his soul away and begins dealing in the inexplicable in order to maintain even a fraction of the powers Suliman tried to strip from him.

Vil, who becomes a living legend and a nightmare—feared so well by all the little town folk that no one ever bothers to even think of getting in the way of his slowly building atrocities. Until one day he curses a poor, innocent, hat shop keeper he sees Neige leading through a waltz in the sky. Curses them to be old, and ugly, and everything he fears. Except after he no doubt ruins their miserable, little, life, they just keep running into each other. The Hat Shop Idiot just doesn’t know what’s good for them. Has sought out powerful magics without thinking to harness it for their own advantage, talks with a fire demon like its a pampered little pet, walks into danger with a stiff upper lip and an even stiffer, tackier, hat. They trade insults with him—as he deserves, who is he kidding—until the both of them are standing at the Gates of Suliman’s castle.

And then that tacky little idiot helps him when his magic fails. Cheers him on with genuine kindness and offers him an arm when his muscles are put under the strains of his real, battered, body for the first time in ages. When Suliman strips him of everything he has left, the poor little Shopkeep he once cursed out of nothing but cruelty takes him with them—saves him too. Gives him his own room in a magic castle and access to every, forbidden, thing he’s been hunting with such wicked fervor. And you, stupid hatter that you are, treat this real, ugly, version of himself with so much gentle kindness that how could he not finally see why all these other magical men and monsters have fallen in love with you too?

#Asks #Vil x Reader #Howl’s Moving Castle AU #Brainrot #vil schoenheit

[zvmz]

A few Maddie Hatter HCs <3

she wears a different hat to school EVERY DAY

one time the school had a crazy hat day and that was the only time maddie showed up hatless because "not wearing a hat sounds crazy enough to me"

theres a storage room in the tea shop thats literally filled to the brim JUST with hats

madeline hatter only gets sad on three occasions

when shes missing wonderland

when one of her friends is sad

and when a customer doesnt like the tea she served them

ONCE a customer yelled at her and she was just on the brink of tears all day looking like a kicked puppy

imagine this its the first time maddie came into ravens room

she sees ravens guitar and yells "hey i have one too!"

and pulls a banjo out of her hat

and raven is like this girl is insane im going to make a found family outta this

she frequently handstand walks to class

she has a huge pillow fort on her side of the dorm

maddie, lizzie, and kitty have one day a week set aside where they have tea, play croquet and card games in lizzies grove

they only speak riddlish during those times

maddie can do seemingly impossible yo-yo tricks

not even kitty knows how she does it

she always smells like fresh biscuits and jam

her baking skills could rival gingers

her phone is just a flip phone, which has been lost in her hat somewhere since last semester

raven once gifted her a wacky lookin purse, which she doesnt need since everything goes in her hat

she carries the empty purse with her everywhere she goes

almost empty

sometimes her mouse rides in it

uses the weirdest possible exclamations

"cowabunga"

"sublime"

"yee haw"

I’m open to requests so if you have a character you want me to post about, just ask!

#eah #ever after high #madeline hatter #lizzie hearts #raven queen #kitty cheshire #eah headcanons

[thelemurinwonderland]

S/O Who Makes Tiny Hats (Azul, Leona, Riddle, Idia, Malleus

Leona:

Didn’t think much about it, but good for you

That was, until you put one on him while he was sleeping and posted the pic to Magicam

Pretty kitty man was not happy that day

Eventually got over it, now he just watches you draw the designs

When the time comes to sew it, he will 9 times out of 10 lay down on your lap while you work. 

“Oi, I am not your mannequin, and I’m not cute. Put another stupid hat on me, and I’m shredding it.”

Azul:

Was intrigued, insisted on seeing your collection

Has already planned you a little shop for your hobby because yes

You made a mini version of his hat, and he chuckled. Said tiny Azul hat now sits on his desk lamp!

Like Leona, he doesn’t care all too much for being a mannequin.

Will endure it because he loves you and it makes you happy

You don’t post any of the pictures to your Magicam, because you don’t want to ruin Azul’s reputation

Riddle:

Caught you posing with one and listened to you talk about your hobby, blushed while doing so because of how happy you were

Sat with you while you made another one, was surprised by how long it took

You made a pair that resembled the Mad Hatter and Queen of Hearts, he was impressed by how accurate it was

If you’re going to use him as a mannequin, make sure you are the only ones in the room. If not, Tomato Riddle is going to take some heads.

He really enjoys being your mannequin

Frequently getting you material or sending Trey during errand runs, he doesn’t want you to run out

Idia:

He cosplays and you make tiny hats, it's a win-win!

Cried when you used him as a mannequin once, because he got flustered and accidentally burned your progress. You and Ortho had to reassure him, poor man was crying his eyes out

You frequently receive sketches/reference photos, along with the human blowtorch’s puppy eyes.

Loves being a mannequin, and is surprisingly not shy about it (as long as it stays between you two and Ortho)

Challenges you to make the smallest ones possible just to see how far you can go

During the Ghost Bride event, you burst through the door, stormed over to him, and plopped the hat you’d made specifically for the occasion on his head, and kissed him in front of Eliza. You got slapped, he got embarrassed, but hey it was worth it, so who really cares?

Malleus:

Frequently walks around Diasomnia with a tiny hat on his head

It confuses Sebek, but it also makes Malleus happy so he’s conflicted

Mannequin Dragon Mannequin Dragon Mannequin Dragon

Has asked Lilia to make a photo album of him wearing said tiny hats

Gets you really fancy material to work with, you can’t argue with him

Has been secretly learning the art of making tiny hats so he can make one for/with you

#twst headcanons #twst imagines #twst x reader #leona kingscholar #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #malleus draconia #idia shroud

[tecchous-thicc-buttocks]

Do you have any bsd headcannons you'd like to share? (literally anything, I just love learning about other peoples hcs)

OMG YES YES A THOUSAND TIMES YES SORRY FOR RESPONDING SO LATE IVE BEEN USING THIS IN MY DRAFTS AS A COLLECTION OF JUST ABOUT ANYTHING THAT GOES THRU MY MIND AND I'VE JUST DECIDED I'M GONNA POST IT ALR

chuuya's hat is so old (bc it keeps getting passed from person to person and he brings it with him everywhere obviously) and WORN OUT but he has no idea how to fix it. he treats it like his child but it's inevitable that the material will deteriorate over time, so he's been trying to convince himself to go to a hatter for ages and can't swallow his pride. he drunkenly told it to hirotsu once night while they were drinking, and hirotsu just sighed and got it fixed for him that night while chuuya was passed out. they never spoke about it.

dazai has met several women who actually did say yes to a double suicide. the majority didn't mean it and just wanted to toy with him, but ran when they realized he was serious. a few actually did mean it. he pulled strings and invited them to a romantic date, except that he sent therapists there instead of him, basically playing matchmaker. all those women are now doing better but ask him about it and he'll act dumb and say he knows nothing about it.

fyodor needs glasses. his eyesight definitely sucks and the hours he spends at a computer don't help. however, he manipulates himself into thinking that he's actually fine when he's not. nikolai also has shitty eyesight bc of his dull eye and the other one he's probably abused looking at the birds in the sky and thus the sun. they are literally the blind leading the blind. nikolai places his portal 2 meters from where he meant to put it and fyodor says "good job". it's incredible how they're feared terrorists.

sigma gets tired wearing heels all day. he wants memory foam but doesn't know it exists. give him his goddamn memory foam. anyways one of his employees saw him holding his feet in pain and offered him orthopedic shoe inserts. he hasn't been the same since. would give them a raise if he knew how.

tachihara used to get acne from having his bandage on his nose all day. so, he's developed an incredibly rigid skin care routine. his face is soft as hell. cheeks are smoother than you'd think.

kouyou made it her first demand as executive to raid her favourite shop where she gets all her kiminos and accessories. hirotsu led the black lizard battalion into the shop and the workers were so fucking confused. stole expensive silk fabrics and clothing of the highest quality because she doesn't settle for less, and in the process has gotten hirotsu more into fashion. they go shopping together.

speaking of shopping, kajii only goes thrifting. have you seen his clothes?? they're not his size and torn as hell but they're so damn cheap he can't resist. his sandals are so goddamn iconic. yeah he's blowing you up but his dogs are OUT like a mf psychopath. i maybe love him a little too much.

ivan has greasy hair. while doing his surgery thing wtv tf that was, fyodor was continually grossed out (ironic aint it). pushkin was then ordered to help ivan wash his hair and they died just a little bit. neither knew what the difference between shampoo and conditioner is, and they struggled with it for a long time. eventually when they came back for fyodor to do the surgery, ivan's hair smelled like flowers and was braided cutely because they gave up and went to a salon where the people working there fell a little in love with his hair and went overboard. pushkin's hair (if you can call it that...) was also in a little bowtie. they enjoyed their little adventure just a little bit. just a little ofc.

odasaku has no idea how to cook curry. he loves it and fears doing it wrong, so he just buys it from the same place over and over. considered asking for the recipe but never did because why change what is already perfection. dazai however is convinced oda has housewife abilities and can cook like a god. he never knew the truth.

fitzgerald can't do math. he pretends he's good at converting currencies but in his head it just doesn't add up. 20 000 yen? that's like.... 5 freedom eagles obviously. no biggie *throws a bunch of american dollars at the workers and just takes the item and leaves* he also doesn't give tips when it prompts on the machine, and instead prefers sliding a crisp bill to them directly. cried a little when his favourite shop told him they ran out of an item he wanted and they didn't budge after he slid them a stack of 100s (he has no idea how many were in the stack)

fitzgerald also owns an airline but he doesn't manage it personally ofc. his only interaction with it is that they provide him and the guild with a private jet to travel to japan. lovecraft did not get on. he swam??? who knows, but he did not get on that plane. lucy got sick and louisa freaked out every time there was turbulence. mark was snoring loudly the entire way and steinbeck had his nose pressed on the window looking outside the entire time the lil cutie.

agatha has the super power of drinking tea while it is still piping hot. she never burns her tongue and never complained about its temperature, except when it's too cold. the water was literally boiling once (her subordinates wanted to find out how hot she can go) and she gulped it all down without a single contortion of her face. incredible.

shirase doesn't understand english and keeps trying to learn it but every time he thinks he's getting the hang of it, someone throws cockney slang at him and he gives up.

adam finally figured out how to blow a bubble of gum, but keeps swallowing it. one day, it clogged his internal system (he's not supposed to be eating obvi) and he's been afraid of it ever since. thinks it's possessed by evil spirits his android brain can't understand. i also hc that he recharges thru solar panels integrated onto his skin and for this reason he goes to the beach to 'tan' often. HE'S SO PALE people get a little concerned for him when they see him not apply sunscreen and just lay down for hours at a time. one lady actually told him he could get skin cancer and he opened his eyes "ackshually 🤓👆" then began reciting every fact known to man about skin cancer. rip that lady

verlaine and rimbaud complain about france all the time. "fuck france i fucking hate the french this country goddamn sucks" then as soon as someone else says anything bad about it they give them death glares and threaten death for disrespecting their country.

wells has memorized a whole lot of things about quantum theory from her days studying to be an engineer because it was her favourite class. she cannot handle mechanical or civil engineering topics and physically ascends at the mention of anything to do with dynamics. i also think she's been hit on a lot while wearing disguises; she tells them she's actually a woman, they freak out, then she sends them back in time. this time, they do not approach her and thus she doesn't have to deal with the awkward rejection and doesn't even remember it.

jules verne has made little dolls and pretended that they were his friends and invented scenarios in which they hung out. i will not elaborate on this.

albatross sometimes interrupts conversations in order to listen to the engine of a vehicle passing by. tries to track them down, too. he'll be the type of guy to ogle at your car without making eye contact with you while you're still in the car. and when i say ogle, i mean ogle. checks out motorcycles more often than women.

the flags bully lippmann sometimes when he acts in a really cheesy scene. he's coming to hang out with them and they're all giggling and chuckling at him stupidly. albatross walks up to him, tucks his hair behind his ear and whispers whatever cheesy thing was said in a low voice before bursting out laughing (he usually starts laughing before he can even finish the sentence). pianoman slides it slickly into conversations, and doc 'fufu's at random moments when looking at him and he suddenly remembers the scene. iceman has not watched the movie and chuuya couldn't care less.

the first time he tried to take the train, ranpo loudly exclaimed and yelled at every turn and stop of the train. he went during rush hour too and got his entire body smooshed into the strangers next to him. he squealed when someone accidentally (accidentally) grabbed his ass in the crowded traincar, then asked loudly who did that. dramatic as hell. got his pockets picked and knew who did it, but couldn't do anything about it. he felt awful and slumped his way back home and collapsed into yosano's arms with a groan. this was the only time she'd ever willingly bought him a bunch of sweets and let him eat them in peace while he ranted to her about the atrocities

kenji is more notorious on the streets than he knows. he got recognized by some huge 200cm tall man built like a goddamn tank with tattoos all over his body who wanted to fight him. kenji was so flattered that he knew his name that he thanked him and burly dude was like. wtf. anyways they got beef ramen together afterwards bonded over cows and are now besties. he's told the agency about it but they think that by "friend" he means someone else his age.

tanizaki ran into kajii once at his favourite thrift shop. he recognized him and ran out freaked never to return. for this reason he had to keep wearing his same stanky ahh uwu girl clothes that don't fit and hasn't had a style update. actually, when doing his research for how to infiltrate the mafia, tachihara found out that there have been a lot of sightings of known dangerous ability users in the thrift store, and that's why he wears the same shirt as tanizaki.

tachihara dreads the hunting dogs meetings because they make him feel like the only sane one there. his back has become so chiseled from carrying teruko around all the time, and once - jouno thought it would be funny - he tripped on a wire laying down on the ground and almost dropped her. he had to use his ability to pick her up from the belt of the uniform to prevent her from faceplanting, and she looked like she was about to explode. he had to let her beat him up a little then she hopped back on his shoulders and nothing changed. he questions his life choices often

jouno can't handle cinnamon or ginger scents, they overwhelm him and he goes into a fucking sensory overload coma. odor orgasm. sinus sex. teruko got sick once and tachi made her the strongest herbal and ginger tea you've ever seen (learnt it from his brother rip the goat) and he collapsed on the ground with a moan. woke up a half hour layer with no clue wth just happened. tecchou eventually heard about it, placed a hand on his shoulder and said "it happens to the best of us" while nodding solemnly then never elaborated.

yeah fukuchi and fukuzawa used to steal food when they were younger but imagine them figuring out milestones together. "dude my armpits are itchy where is this hair coming from :(" "genichiro i don't need to know about that *scratches at his armpit subtly*" i think they were very goofy about it

speaking of puberty elise once freaked mori out by saying she got her period. dude was like. wtf. you're an ability. how tf. she insisted he got her a bunch of tampons n pads and chocolate and heating pads and the works, then once he (the underlings he made go do the shopping threatening their lives if they ever told a soul) bought everything, she looked at his confused and asked why he bought those things. she's an ability how could she have a period? mori cried a little that night.

bram is a swiftie for no reason other than i think it's funny. alternatively, i believe he listens to reggae for no reason other than i think it's goddamn FUNNY.

kunikida's old students sometimes run into him on the street and recognize him. they immediately straighten their backs, nod at him and quickly walk away in the most respectful way because they don't want to ruin his schedule. he nearly tears up from happiness every time.

natsume goes through 5-6 "here, kitty kitty!"s in a day when he's just vibing around. people try to feed him grass blades. people get WAY too comfortable rubbing his stomach. once, a girl saw him on her way back from school and started scratching a random spot behind his ears and he folded so quickly and just melted on the sidewalk. he wont admit it but he has that weak spot in human form too (i want to pet him so badly this is self indulgent ok). the girl was actually gin btw. she's an animal whisperer i dont know why i dont know how but she is.

#im dying just a little because of the way my head is overfilling #i rly hope the anon who asked this is still around to see my answers :sob: #i LOVE making stupidly specific hcs this isn't even the half of it #guys drop your hcs or character you want my hcs for in my inbox!! (i want someone to spam my inbox womp womp) #yeah i spoke a lot about tachi what abt it #i love him a little too much i need someone else with the same level of obsession as me #i want him as an s/o so i'll be immune to bratty vending machines #^^OMG THIS APPEARED WHEN I WAS TYPING TAGS APPARENTLY I ALR WROTE THAT??? it's still true ofc #anyways yes i like to try to cater to most characters bc i'm a sucker for the underrated lomls #i would've slapped you with more lovecraft but i must ease back into writing hcs (i haven't done this in years) #uhhhh yeah #that's all my lil dumpling wumplings idk wtf else to write #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd hcs #bsd headcanons