#it's about beings that USED TO BE human but AREN'T ANYMORE yet still have that instinctive desire to restore their missing heart

[aro-sora]

Heartless

This month's Carnival of Aros theme is "Humanity and the Non-Human" and these prompts were particularly resonant with me:

It’s been a fairly well-documented phenomenon that many aromantics tend to feel some sort of connection to some sort of fictional non-human species, whether as specific examples, or as a whole. If you relate, what are your thoughts on these characters and concepts as an aro(-spec)? Do you have any experiences in any subcultures related to non-humanity, such as Voidpunk?

So I thought I'd write something about my personal experiences.

It will come as no surprise to people who follow this blog that I am a heartless aromantic and I'm also a huge Kingdom Hearts fan. (To anyone who isn't familiar with KH, in the games there are beings of darkness called Heartless. There's a lot of designs and some are cooler than others so here are a few of my favorites:)

[ID: Various Heartless from Kingdom Heartles, in order, a Shadow, a Neoshadow, a Soldier, and a Darkling. End ID]

These beings are both literally and very much not literally (it's complicated) heartless. They are manifestations of the darkness in people's hearts and seek to steal more hearts to transform into Heartless.

(something something beings that are recognizably human but also . . . not and yet still have the instinctual desire to reclaim what was taken)

A common stereotype about aromantic people is that we are heartless and unfeeling because we don't experience romantic love. Aromanticism may influence a person's emotions and definitely impacts views on romance, but to say that all aros are cold and emotionless is hurtful and arophobic. But I also genuinely identify with the term "heartless." Not feeling romantic attractions makes me feel alienated from amatonormative society, and "heartless aro" is the best way for me to describe that feeling.

My love of Kingdom Hearts is also a huge influence on that. When I say KH rewired my brain, it's only a half joke. I was 5-6 years old when I first discovered these games and this bizarre Disney/Final Fantasy crossover was a very formative experience. "Heartless" is not just a way to describe my aromanticism, its a defining aspect.

What is it, to be Heartless? To be human, once, but now something . . . other: a being born of darkness. Darkness is a force that is often used for evil, but still KH makes a point of not making it inherently evil. Darkness exists in every heart. It can overwhelm, but it can also be accepted and mastered, like in Riku's case. To choose to become Heartless, in Sora's case, is a defining moment of humanity.

My blog url might be aro-sora (because let's be honest, he's super arospec) but the title, "My Heart Belongs to Me," is quote from Roxas, one of the best examples in KH of someone being denied humanity for supposedly not having a heart, yet being one of the most caring and emotional characters in the series. He's not an actual capital-H Heartless (that's Sora, briefly) but his story and his struggles just . . . resonate with me. "I am me! Nobody else!" I want for people to stop thinking of me as something I am not, as desiring relationships I don't want, or even being a gender I am not.

I don't have much experience with voidpunk culture (but now I want to look into it), but recently I discovered the term otherhearted: "Identifying strongly with something nonhuman and/or fictional, without literally identifying as that thing." (I'm a bit on the fence between being otherhearted and otherkin, but otherheart literally has the word "heart" in it and the KH influence is strong.) It's a very queer experience to want to change your identity and be something other than what people see you as. Sometimes I imagine that for myself—claws of darkness, eyes of burning gold. Darkness cannot exist without light, but neither can light exist without darkness. Nothing can destroy me, because I am the shadow at the very heart of the world.

I guess that would make me Heartless-hearted. An ironic term, I know, but similarly to my personal heartless aro identity I find it absolutely hilarious. So many parts of my identity are "contradictions": being bigender, being human and heartless. It fits with the lore of the Heartless themselves: some technically do possess hearts and some don't. (it's complicated)

I call myself heartless the same way I call myself queer. Bigots will use them as insults and an attempt to make me lesser and other and nonhuman, but to me these are my words. They are mine and I give them power, no one else. Someone thinks I'm "heartless" for not experiencing a certain feeling? Fuck them, I AM heartless. And I am still human because I choose to be, not because humanity is something to be given or taken away. I don't have to prove anything about myself to anyone. I define my own heart, NO ONE ELSE.

And if they still think that being heartless—being aromantic—is something "wrong" or "unnatural" or not human? I only have a warning for them:

Beware the darkness in your heart. The Heartless prey upon it.

#kh #carnival of aros #a carnival of aros #aromantic #aro #heartless #heartless aro #otherhearted #my ideal gender presentation is either a mix of masculine and feminine or literally just a neoshadow. or a darkling #semi-related note: the terms “Heartless” and “Nobody” make sense for their respective beings and I will fight anyone who says otherwise #i was very tempted to include images of the wackier heartless designs but it would have taken away from the point #non kh fans reading this i highly recommend browsing the kh wiki and seeing all the designs. some are . . . interesting #like scar. yes. scar the lion from the lion king #you may have heard of him #i also use loveless and lovequeer but mostly heartless because. as i said. the kh influence is very strong #it's about beings that USED TO BE human but AREN'T ANYMORE yet still have that instinctive desire to restore their missing heart #*gestures wildly to the air* DO YOU SEE MY POINT #ITS ABOUT A SCARED CONFUSED BOY HAVING EVERYTHING TAKEN AWAY AND HUMANITY DENIED FROM HIM YET STILL SO PAINFULLY HUMAN #i'm going to go cry about roxas now #happy spooky month everybody!

[lassieposting]

Things i think would be really funny: the gang gets used to Halsin just sort of. Slumming it around the camp as a bear, sometimes. It's warmer to sleep, and sometimes he'll snuffle into the food stores to break his fast as a bear and then amble off into the woods to bathe and then come back as a person. Some people require caffeine to be human in the mornings - Halsin requires cold water and time to wake up. And before long, the rest think nothing of it. He never harms them, after all. They still speak to him in passing or stop to ruffle his fur. There are jokes about being surprised no one has caught Astarion - who can't regulate his body temperature anymore - using him as a blanket yet.

Except one day, Halsin the bear trundles into camp and curls up in his normal spot near the fire...while Halsin the elf is still talking to Karlach. There is a moment of dead silence and bewildered looks, which turn to dawning horror as they all realise that there have always been two Halsins, and all this time one of them was a whole-ass wild grizzly bear.

The silence is broken by Astarion - who's known the whole time because he can smell the difference - laughing himself stupid because he tried to bring this up ages ago and has been under the impression ever since that the bear was known about and allowed to be there.

("That's not - is? Is anyone else seeing what I'm seeing? Anybody going to do something about - no? Really? We're all just treating this as normal, are we?"

"Leave him alone, Astarion. He's not a morning person."

Well, alright then. It's not like Tav doesn't regularly take in mangy strays. How was he to know which you are keeping and which you aren't, darling?)

(The bear hasn't harmed anyone, and a quick Speak With Animals reveals that he's not inclined to: he likes the warmth and the free food. So they end up deciding to just. Let him do his thing.)

#bg3 #bg3 headcanons #halsin #tav #tadpolycule #astarion ancunin

[cryptidghostgirl]

Humanity’s Most Favored Fantasy (Alastor x Reader)

Paring: Alastor x Reader

Description: It wasn't love. Alastor didn't feel love, not anymore. He'd lost that part of himself the day he died so it couldn't be love, could it?

Warnings: Look, I'm writing and it's not for a request. Angst. It's always angst. I just love Alastor's inhumanity, what can I say? This bitch is in denial. Also, bodies, blood, death, no gore but like, eh. Also Adam is in this one and he's his own warning. Loose Mistki quoting at one part. Also a loose Sappho quote “pale as grass” and self harm.

Word Count: 2,420

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A/N My classics major side came out a little bit in this one lol. Also I have a big classics major side fic in the wings so if you guys like this, just wait. Also Sir Pentious is from the 1800s so he for sure had a classical education. Also the title came from an article I was reading about the history of witchcraft for one of my classes.

The most complex and yet the most simple of the human emotions. Feared by some, wielded by others, out of reach for many, perennial for more still, and taken as easily as a breath of air by a solemn few. What a strange thing, love.

It was this last category that bewitched Alastor. Even when he had been alive, he had never understood the people like that, the ones who took heartbreak in stride, the ones who shared any love they had the minute they felt it with everyone and everything. The ones who weren't paralyzed by potential loss or violent embarrassment.

The people who feared love made sense. It had a vast capacity for harm, it was able to destroy without a second thought. Even when it was good, love could be devastating. Those who wielded it as their weapon of choice nearly fell into a subcategory of this group. They used other people's fear of the matter against them or they lured people in to get what they wanted and threw them to the curb without a second glance.

Everyone on earth, living or dead, had felt at least once that love was out of their reach, Alastor reasoned. Hopelessness is one of the most vital parts of the human condition, after all.

Perennial was the category in which most people fell. Love came and went. It lived and died, but always returned like the plants he had named this grouping for.

Then there were people like Y/n. Not a day went by where she wasn't explaining how much she adored something random or telling people she loved them, throwing the word around as if it had no weight, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to love, to share love. When Angel had made some snide remark about everything being her alleged 'favorite thing,' Y/n had quickly replied, saying:

"Aren't I lucky for that? Isn't that just wonderful?"

Alastor couldn't tell in which category he fell or what his opinion was about that answer of hers. One thing he did know was that Y/n was to be avoided at all costs.

She was the typical sinner. Never too bad of a person when alive, but never too good either. She wore her hedonism like a badge of honor, living her afterlife in much the same way Alastor assumed she had lived her living life: in a constant state of indulgence.

It wasn't the typical form of being that takes a person's mind when they think of the word. No, Y/n didn't indulge in a reckless, Dionysian way. Instead, she devoured everything. Books, good food, music, friends, you name it. Y/n had a million stories about each and a million examples of the best they all had to offer on hand. She relished in all that every word had to offer.

Alastor had overheard her talking to Charlie one night about that. He hadn't meant to, he had just been wandering the hotel, unable to sleep and in need of some air, when he'd heard a slight commotion in the lobby. Hidden by his shadows, he had entered the familiar space to find an exhausted Charlie standing tensely before a bulletin board.

"God is in the details." Y/n was saying as she adjusted the plans pinned on the structure so they were easier to read, more cohesive, "Anything can be a work of art, don't forget that. It's what makes everything so undeniably worth it."

She was so utterly out of his reach. Not that Alastor wanted Y/n in his reach, no. How ridiculous would that be: the Radio Demon, the most feared overlord in all of Hell, getting butterflies because he heard a girl tell someone else she loved them and imagined it was him. No, that would be utterly foolish which was why it wasn't the case, couldn't be the case. He must be getting sick, that was why his stomach had felt weird.

"What are you reading?" he heard Sir Pentious ask as the snake demon took a seat on the couch beside Y/n.

Alastor was at the bar, sharing a drink with Husk. His ear twitched in their direction.

"It's a book discussing the changes in interpretations of Sappho's poetry over time." Y/n replied, her tone soft and even.

It felt like a salve against Alastor's ears. Husk raised an eyebrow towards his master but made no remark.

"Really? I didn't know you were interested in that sort of thing."

"I was actually a professor in the human world... living world? Whatever. I didn't work on Sappho, I worked on ancient medicine, but I always found her intriguing and lovely. I mean, phainetai moi is creating a diagnosed love, using all the language of medicine. How could it not capture my attention?"

"You know, if you look at Homer, the same language Sappho uses is also used to describe love. She is actually working off a preexisting cannon of love as something painful and destroying."

"Really?"

"Yes, and curse tablets tend to draw off medical writings quite a bit as well, especially those involved in love magic."

"Huh, that’s a neat little intersection I have yet to explore: medicine, magic, and love. I never knew you knew so much about this. You died in the 1890s, right?"

"Sometime around then."

"I should have guessed then, my mistake. Tell me, what was it like growing up with all this wonder at your finger tips? It was hard for me to even find a university with a classics department, let alone a good one. You’re lucky to have had it all right there."

Now that was an interesting idea to Alastor. A diagnosable love, a painful and deadly thing. Love as a curse, love as being shot through by an enemy spear, love as a god. It made more sense to him than anything else about the matter had. Unavoidable, not something self imposed. A cursed love, a medical love, something that controlled a person rather than vice versa.

He lay awake at night, unable to speak, pale as grass, thinking unwillingly of the way her lips curved to form words, of the way one could see the gears of her mind turning behind her eyes. He lay awake, unable to do anything else. He stared at the ceiling.

"Ah! Angel! Thank you!" Y/n exclaimed as he handed her the sweater he'd spotted her eyeing a few days before when they'd been for a walk around town, "This was so kind of you!"

Alastor watched as Y/n pulled the lanky demon into a hug which he reluctantly returned, looking down at her with a platonic version of the sort of fondness that was so forbidden to him.

"Great work Angel!" Charlie clapped excitedly, "That's a step in the right direction."

No, it wasn't love. Alastor Hartifelt didn't love, he had lost that ability the day he had died and he'd barely had it before that. It didn't matter that his heart skipped a beat, there was no truth to his upset stomach when he had to speak to her except something bad he must have eaten. The sleeplessness wasn't new, sleep had never been his friend so to speak, the two had never really gotten along. The reason it got so stuck in his head, the way she threw her affection around, was the carelessness of it all, the foolishness. Only, what he had overheard her saying to Charlie that night, that anything can be a work of art, were the words of someone who acted purely on intention, who did nothing without considered thought.

Y/n couldn't be a wielder of love. Alastor never once saw her manipulate someone or even really ask anyone for anything at all. There was no way she was scared and the way she freely gave took her out of the other two categories as well. It didn't make sense. The intention, the earnestness, the true meaning behind her actions and words that always seemed to shine through no matter what she did, was what had him stuck. She barley even fit into her own category because of it. Most people that threw love around the way she did had the words and actions lose their meaning over time but, somehow, that seemed never to be the case for her.

He pictured a life on earth. He pictured walking with her beneath the stars, the way the light of the moon would play gently across her skin. He pictured her in the recording studio, the one he'd worked at while alive, waiting by the door for him to finish his work and taking him by the hand, dragging him off into the unknown. He pictured waking up beside her in the morning, all messy hair and smiles. He pictured, he dreamed, he dissolved. The doctors diagnosed him and he went to see other people because he didn't like the answer they gave him.

Y/n pulled Vaggie from her seat at the bar, spinning the demon into an ungraceful waltz to the music Alastor was playing on the piano for the group. He nearly fumbled, nearly missed a note. She missed so many steps and it didn't matter because she was laughing, and so was Vaggie. She didn't have to be perfect, but he did.

They each smiled ear to ear while Charlie clapped along to the beat. He imagined himself in Vaggie's place, he could practically feel his hands on the gentle curve of her hips. The world was half real.

It wasn't love because he didn't know her, he never spoke to her. It wasn't love because that was impossible, he couldn't love. It wasn't love because that was an ability he'd left in the world of the living. It wasn't love because she was too kind, too good, and he was nothing if not brutal and bloodstained to his core. It wasn't love because it couldn't be. It wasn't love because if it was...

It's not love. It's not love. It's not love.

He repeated the mantra to himself. Alone walking the halls, in meetings with the other overlords, making tea in the kitchen. He whispered the words to himself like a prayer.

It's not love. It's not love. It's not love.

Y/n was out of reach, untouchable, destined to join the ranks of Heaven while he remained rotting in Hell. It couldn't be anything else, no other future was possible which was why it wasn't love. She was made of all the things a human is and he was made of those a monster is. She was bright, she shined, and Alastor fed off the light of others, burning it out into darkness. He refused to do such a thing to her, he couldn't. Not when she was practically the sun. Not when he wasn't even a star but the black hole of the earth revolving around her.

He saw her holding Husk's hands over the bar top as he told her something, a look of deep concern etched into her features. He watched her pick Nifty up by the waist so the little demon could dust the tops of the bookshelves. He watched her, he waited, he would always be waiting because nothing could ever happen. Nothing would ever happen, he wouldn't allow it and goddamnit it wasn’t love.

It was also impossible, Alastor reminded himself. He had left that part of himself when he had died, it hadn't made the journey with him. The most favored fantasy of his own humanity, or what was left of it. The little spark of the person he had been that glowed softly from the center of his chest. Alastor had tried to douse it, tried to kill it, tried to rip it from himself but all he'd ever ended up with was bloody hands and torn flesh and the light pulsed on in its eternal hunger, its eternal hope, its eternal harm.

And then it was too late. Then, she really was gone, double dead or however anyone wanted to call it. Adam dropped her lifeless corpse to the ground and Alastor's world crashed in around him because no matter how many times he had said it wasn't, no matter how he had avoided her, no matter what he had done it had been love, or the beginnings of it at least. The closest thing to it he'd ever really felt. His hand tightened around the staff of his microphone. Alastor bared his teeth, he saw red.

"What have you done?"

Adam turned to him, grinning. Y/n deserved a viking funeral, to be surrounded by flowers and sent off in a burning boat. She deserved a Greek burial, reduced to ashes and buried with all the proper rites that made sure she would make it to the afterlife. She deserved, she was owed, he was angry.

"What." Adam laughed, "Was she your little bitch?"

Alastor didn't think he had any room left inside him for the fury, but found his rage redoubled at Adam's words.

"What did you just call her?"

"Your little bitch." Adam smirked, "She was a cute one, shame you all are gonna have to burn. Woulda kept her for myself."

Adam looked down, nudging Y/n's lifeless corpse with the toe of his shoe. Alastor attacked. There was no thought, no order, no grace, there was only the anger. Only now that it was too late, was he at last able to let loose, be less than perfect, exist in an unintentional manner. Or was it that this was the true meaning of intention -- reckless abandon? Y/n probably would have thought that. It didn't matter. It didn't matter what she would have thought, what any of them did think. It was too late. There was no more time and Alastor had come to terms with his own frailty a second past the buzzer. He would never forgive himself.

"You will pay for what you have done. You will die for what you have done."

Because it had been love, all along and Alastor, who had thought himself above it all, had been in that first group. He had been scared, not of what love could do but of what Y/n would, of what she had already done to him. Now it was too late and he would never get another chance.

"You will fucking die!"

----

Part Two --> → Humanity's Most Favored Fantasy pt. 2

#x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #x reader fics #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #radio demon x reader #the radio demon x reader #the radio demon #radio demon #hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #x reader fanfic #angst

[isa-ghost]

Can we please keep in mind that given what we know, there's a strong chance plenty of Wilbur's friends were blindsided by this, and could very well be grieving that someone so close to them turned out to be this horrific?

Given we KNOW Wilbur meticulously kept up a facade socially and publicly, there's a strong chance they had little to no idea he was that way unless they personally witnessed the behaviors. That's horrifying.

I personally know what it's like to have someone you talked to and hung out with near-daily for YEARS to turn out to be a disgusting, lying, fake and awful person. You feel betrayed, sick, angry, confused, devastated. You need time to emotionally process that. ESPECIALLY before doing something like making a public statement about "your stance" on the matter. Some of the people we know felt like family to Wilbur, genuinely, even despite all the jokes that got old so fast within the community. And they could've gone the whole time not knowing all this.

That's not something you get over instantly. That's not something you can think clearly through right away. Anyone demanding a nuanced and well-thought out statement rejecting and condemning Wilbur ASAP for their own satisfaction are stupid as hell. You don't care about the situation, you're fishing for internet points by being ready to pull the trigger on anyone who doesn't say something the moment you expect them to. You care more about Looking like you have humanity by attacking abusers and abuse apologists, instead of Actually having humanity in realizing this has a real impact on real people with real emotions.

They're fucking grieving. And we've seen from plenty of them who thought of him as a friend that Have said something already that they are also ANGRY.

Those who have yet to speak up are likely still processing their emotions. Or processing what they want to say. Or perhaps are even personally affected by the situation as victims of abuse themselves, and therefore NEED to step back before they say anything, if they say anything at all.

They could also be saying something where we can't see. They don't owe the public shit, anything they'd say wouldn't be for us. We aren't entitled to their thoughts or their explicit rejection of Wilbur. Which is Also why anyone demanding instant statements from anyone is a fucking moron. They don't need to "prove" to us that they don't support Wilbur anymore. That's not what anything to do with this situation is about. That's not what matters here.

What matters is they've personally given Shelby their support; which is 10x more meaningful given directly to her rather than in public where it's also largely to please anyone scrutinizing them. What matters is they've stopped engaging with Wilbur, removed his presence from their personal content (ex: Phil removed his point redemption audios that had Wilbur in them), etc. Actions speak louder than words.

Some of you are just fucking lazy and don't want to look deeper, you want convenient and perfectly crafted statements for your satisfaction and comfort right away.

TLDR: think fucking harder before you open your mouth about any cc's reaction to Wilbur or his statement. These people were friends with him (many are also friends with Shelby!), trusted him, etc. There's nuance to situations like these whether you like it or not, and ccs saying anything where you can see it at the exact moment you want them to is not something any of us are owed.

Fuck Wilbur. Fuck his garbage statement. But if you're more focused on hounding every cc who ever knew him publicly to cater to you for one reason or another the second you want them to, fuck you too.

#wilbur situation #discourse

[azulsluver]

I just binge read your bully au for twst and OMG! What if MC ends up cracking, going numb to protect themselves. They still do as told, but they have sky eyes, no emotion. Who would keep pushing to see them fully break, or who would just dump them like trash!?! Hell, who would enjoy them losing the fight in them!

tw: yandere, bully!characters, blood mention, unhealthy relationships/behavior, victim blaming.

Disclaimer, you don’t actually want this n stay safe from people like this!

Continue tormenting for fun:

Leona

Doesn't take you seriously. That's it? You're giving up already, gosh you really can't do anything by yourself...Leona is less than disappointed, in fact he knew good things would come to an end. But you still serve some purpose to him, Leona can't find himself to throw away his favorite toy, some things are just meant worth keeping. Even when broken and used.

Sebek

I don't think he'd catch on very quick, how you follow his instructions yet when the heel of his boot hits your back you make no sound of pain. Sebek should've known humans were too weak to handle his training, being pushed a little really got you that gone? This will only give Sebek the advantage to harm you further, he likes taking his frustration out on you without you screaming.

Lilia

You lasted longer than the others, and he'll applause you for that. Lilia doesn't necessarily hate this new you, embracing it but continues to see just exactly how far you can go. You're only in a shell, and he's not dumb, Lilia will stare longingly into your hollowed orbs, there is still a hint of you. Hiding away from him, Lilia is only fueled to either have you brain dead or back.

Rook

You're absolutely divine, he'll say as he wipes the trickling blood on your lips. You can't fool Rook with those dead-beat eyes, in fact this new look is beautiful. Rook craves for more of this expression you possess, he's seen you smile and cry, he wants to unravel more until you actually break. Rook has done some research on how the human mind can shut down when pushed into pressure, the thought of your alive yet corpse like body not instructing as told, he knows you're still in there.

Jamil

Jamil is conflicted with himself, you're alive but not yourself. A part of him enjoys the fact you won't refuse his affections. But did he really want this? Don't get this the wrong way, Jamil still prefers to beat you into submission, a sick part of him loves you so much yet he can't reciprocate his feelings to you. Understanding that this new you, will help ease his overwhelming emotions, he doesn't need to pretend anymore. Your clouded eyes are what he loves best.

Vil

Recents posts of him explain that Vil absolutely needs you just to take his anger out on. He’s in love with you no doubt, but embarrassment shames him from normally communicating with you. So even if you were emotionless he’d find some use, because he can’t get rid of you no matter how badly beaten your skin is. It’s you, and he’ll have no other person.

Epel

Didn’t know how to react at first. Epel kicks you a couple of times to see how you’d react. I think he because you aren’t responding to any of his criticisms does he ponder. He’s smitten with you, creating a fake narrative on his behavior that what he’s doing is ok, when he’s well aware it isn’t. Keeps you around because your nice to relieve stress from, doesn’t mind if you aren’t screaming and crying.

Toss them away (but he'll start thinking about you then wants you back eventually):

Jade

What a shame...he knew it was a bad idea to share with Floyd. You broke so easily, so fast, just when things were getting good. What good of an experiment if they give the same reaction, you aren't screaming as much as he expected. And the worse part is you listen to exactly what he asks for, there is no hesitation or breaking down to crying, you really are willing to cut off your hand? How boring.

Floyd

Frustrated, acts as if he didn't expected this to happen. Floyd is throwing a huge tantrum once he finds out you don't kick or scream at him. He misses the terror in your eyes when he asks you a question of such, now you're giving him a blank look! Not safe to say, if Azul or Jade wasn't there, you would've been dead for good, Floyd can't handle the fact his shrimpy is lame now. Out of pure anger, he would let his feelings get the best of him.

Kalim

At first he wouldn't notice your change of behavior. But that spark in you is gone now, Kalim doesn't want broken things. You were fun to play with, because he usually got high off the power he held over you, his stress toy won't even give him a proper bark. I mean you do bark, just not with enough enthusiasm. Like a fussing child, Kalim would have you thrown out, until he starts to miss having you beside his feet....

Cater

Makes the saddest noise when he notices how little you react to his touches. Slaps your cheeks a couple of times to make sure. Dramatically mourns over your past self before rudely telling you how you weren’t gonna last long with him either way. It’s been a nice ride with you he says, leaving with a kiss on the forehead. It’s cruel but depressing, because on his end he’s up at night staring at the photos of your more lively self. He misses those terrified eyes..

Enjoys the new MC and somewhat stops:

Riddle

The fire within you finally died, no more to fuel to feed. Just burnt ashes laying pitifully on the floor, grimy and unusual. Riddle is relived, he had proved a point to himself. All of his hard work to make you into the perfect person, docile and understanding. Riddle now has no reason to push you, you're at your fullest degree. You do as told, and no one gets hurt, physically and emotionally. (he's just like his mom frfr)

Ace

At a sense of peace. Once Ace understands that you are no longer you but a fragment he's thrilled. His mean names slowly die down, much more softer and cheesy when talking to you. If you're still there, disgusted or not he'd lay his head on your shoulder and mumble to you how much of a coward he was to confess. But all went well, the paranoia of you rejecting him gone. I mean what else can a lifeless you do?

Deuce

Has no other reason to bully you. You’re doing things just as he wanted and he couldn’t be happier. Like Ace he was paranoid of your rejection. But you don’t stray away from his rough hands massaging your cheek, kisses that bruise your lips. It’s heaven for him, he wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

Malleus

He didn’t think you’d break so fast. Malleus barely lays a hand on you yet his words cut deep. Perhaps you finally learned your place, all that hard work and learning how to court a single-minded human like you payed off. You won’t have to face the wrath of his verbal abuse because he’s nothing but sweet to you. You look lovely no matter how bad it gets.

Ruggie

Ruggie didn’t go extreme measures to hurt you that bad. Maybe he got to you before the others could take advantage of your newfound persona. Like he always do, Ruggie takes care of things. By things he means you. Sure you’re practically not yourself anymore but it’s still you in some shape and form. His words won’t mean nothing to damage you, so now you’ll be taken under his care. Best person to be with in this situation.

Idia

Shitty attitude stopped so quick. Was leaning more to tossing you away but Idia gets attached quickly. He would never admit but you’re his favorite pastime everything, he can’t ditch you. So eventually all of his bullying stop because there is nothing to get a reaction from. Much more calmer and talkative around you. It’s nice knowing you aren’t actively judging him as he talks, no cover ups to be douche.

Jack

Once the numbers of people targeting you goes down does he step in. Jack is worried, genuinely. I think reader being emotionless snaps something inside of him, does he claim to protect you fully and run away from everyone else. His guilt that you turned out this way eats him, but he downs it out by telling himself you brought too much attention now he must clean the mess up.

Silver

There is a good case scenario if Malleus wasn’t so attached to you and Sebek left you alone!! Lilia can see how devastated Silver is once he finds out your condition. You’re almost lifeless, Lilia let’s Silver care for you because he finally found the guts to ask. Silver tends to your needs, all those years of standing from afar and watching you get hurt somewhat paid off. You’re dependent on him and he doesn’t wanna admit how good it feels.

Trey

Settles down like some retired man. He’s happy you found peace and stop causing trouble. You’ll be in his full care now, sure he’ll have his usual sadistic tendencies but it’s much more tame and softer. He doesn’t mind however if you come back to him all bruised and sore, he will feed and clothe you back to health. Over and over again. At least he stops his bullying behavior for a while.

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey clover x reader #ace trappola x reader #cater diamond x reader #deuce spade x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #jack howl x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #jamil viper x reader #kalim al asim x reader #idia shroud x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #rook hunt x reader #epel felmeir x reader #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #twst silver x reader #bully!au

[haunted-xander]

tbh one of, if not my absolute favorite part about ffxiv, is the small little moments/sections where nothing super big or like. Plot Important happens, but that give both the characters and us, the players, some much appreciated down-time to just. Feel things. And to process what's happened and what's going on or to just. Let us exist, in the moment. In a much more grounded and human way than when there's Big And Important Things happening.

The biggest(imo) and earliest example of this is right after the Waking Sands get raided in ARR, and WoL turns to the church for guidance. The entire section of us helping them gather and bury our fallen comrades, and especially bringing Noraxia home to Little Solace so she can be laid to rest in her homeland, by her own people and in their own cultural ways, was so so important to me.

Because it wasn't just replacable allies cast aside for shock value anymore, it was real. These deaths were real and meant something. I got to actually process what just happened, and I got to watch Banana go through it right with me. And not only did it make it feel real, it also gave me a sense of closure. These people, these friends, are dead, but they also got to be treated with the respect they deserve and laid to rest properly.

And that, more than anything else, made me want to save the world. It's grounded and grounding. This world, and these people, meant something to me, the player.

And there's tons of stuff like that throughout the game, especially in shadowbringers and endwalker.

In shb we have, for example, Lyna venting her anger and frustration after the sin eater attack in Lakeland. She's on her knees yelling on the verge of tears while punching the ground, so furious at her helplessness and powerlessness, at everyone having come so far yet set back because some megalomaniacal tyrant deemed it so.

In ew we have Urianger being approached by Moenbryda's parents, who confront him about not confiding in them about his grief. When Bloewyda starts to scold him, he of course reacts guiltily, believing they blame him, only for him to be completely caught off guard when she instead goes in to hug him, telling him he should have let them grieve with him. And he just. Breaks down. He's been holding these feelings, this grief inside him all this time, and now that he is not only told it's okay to let it out, but by her very own parents at that, he just can't keep it in anymore. He cries for Moenbryda, right then and there, being held lovingly by her family.

And the thing is, these scenes aren't necessary, strictly speaking. The plot at large could go on without them, the events that happen around them are not changed by these moments in any way.

But still, they are so so important, to the world, to the characters, to the players. Everything feels real and impactful now, every death means something, every tragedy, every person, feels real.

And that, to me, is what makes this story so special.

#and this isnt even mentioning my absolute favorote of this kind of moments #which is the twins' conversation while held hostage in tertium #its not as emotionally intense as the ones i listed- its not even really about their emotions much at all #but its just. such a good scene that demonstrates just who they are and what their dynamic is and just. them. #im not going into that scene rn bc if i did id end up using all the tags to rant but like. its So Important to me okay #i think about it constantly #this game is just. so good at making the characters feel like real people with real feelings who reacts to everything that happens around #them #oooouuugh i am unwell. i will never be normal about this game. ever. #warrior of light #wol #banana pepper #lyna #urianger augurelt #moenbryda wilfsunnwyn #< in spirit #final fantasy #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #ff14 #ffxiv #xander rambles

[remember-the-fanfics]

Omg I’d love to hear about the earth born reader’s dynamics with the cast!

You get the whole info about the reader because :D

(Y/n) (Middle Name) (L/n)

Age- 17-21

Gender- Nonbinary (They/them)

Height- 5'0 - 5'6

Appearance-

Demon-ish look

• Purple eyes that look like cat eyes

• Pointy ears and sharp teeth

• Claw looking finger that wouldn't actually cut anything

• Hair is multiple color with (h/c) and (any color), hair looks ruffled all the time. Goes to your shoulder.

• Magic necklace to let you look like this is solid metal to not be easily broken.

Human look

• Base human look

• Hair is less ruffled, still a slight mess.

Info

• Clothes are mostly given by any of the main cast, minus a whole suit that Alastor got you fitted for along with a skirt and pants. Charlie did buy you some clothes in your size since most of the cast is taller than you.

• Either you can here by a portal made by some certain imps and got booted to the pride level with how your soul is closest to a sinner and that just whiplash you enough to forget; or random magic nonsense or ritual that someone close to you did and accidentally got you into hell.

• Have yet to figure out the person who gave you the necklace. Maybe someone who use to be in your shoes long time ago.

• Charlie and Vaggie go between acting like your moms or your annoyed older sisters (mostly Vaggie)

• Alastor treats you like a child, like a distant weird uncle when you get to know him more. Gives you random gifts, most get taken away by being deadly weapons by Vaggie.

• Angel Dust reminds you of an annoying older brother or Cousin, that has a 10 year gap between each other. Protective, isn't as sexual in your presence still is though. Never talks about work to you.

• Husk, doesn't let you drink any alcohol even if you want to. Says you're too young, has so water or soda at the bar for you. Definitely an uncle.

• Niffty, weird short hyperactive aunt that hates bugs and loves cleaning. Talks to you about any interest men she sees, also gifts you less deadly weapons or anything interesting she finds. Has given you a bottle of bleach with no context.

• You would kill for any of the pets including Razzle and Dazzle, those two would kill for you too after Charlie request they watched over you as well

• Lucifer mistook you as Vaggies kid and then also Charlie when he learned that the two were dating and that they found you together. Even after finding out that you weren't technically their kid, he would still act like granddad that missed out on half your life and gift you random things, mostly ducks when you said they looked cute.

• Charlie had to tell him not to gift you anymore ones that can produce fire. You've near caught the hotel on fire 3 times and everyone in the cross fire.

• You gave sad puppy eyes for days afterwards towards everyone.

• Sir Pentious had to be tell directly not to make you any deadly weapons after he gave you a hand-held flamethrower when he fell for your puppy eyes.

• Now, Vaggie has collection of weapons that everyone gives you that you almost hurt someone and yourself.

• Everyone defense is that you don't use you demon powers when in danger, not knowing you aren't an actual sinner.

• So you only have a certain few weapons to keep you safe when out if the hotel.

• Charlie and Vaggie know the most of your past that you willing talk about. Knows about your direct family, that you died young.

• Charlie got you as a guest because she doesn't think you should actually be a sinner. Minus the fires that you've accidentally started, you could be here for a pyromaniac.

• But then you apologized right after, not many it to happen.

• The main cast have tried to figure out why you got sent here.

• Alastor doesn't really care, thinking you barely just sinned enough to got sent here.

#platonic hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #earthborn reader #hazbin hotel x reader #charlie morningstar #platonic #vaggie #alastor #niffty #husk #angel dust

[thisisourlovestory]

Safe and Sound

Finnick Odair x reader soulmate AU

Summary: you are a victor from district 4. The Quarter Quell has just been announced. How will you cope with the turn of events coming your way.

Word count- 3.2k

Chapter 4

We were immediately assaulted by the screams and shouts of Capitol citizens as they clamoured for a look at us, as if we were animals in a zoo. The only thing holding them back were peacekeepers. I wanted to ignore them, I wanted nothing to do with them, I wanted to just go somewhere far away and never return. But I couldn't do any of those things. I looked to the side and saw Lysander pointing people out, muttering under his breath if he knew them or not, and if he knew them then I knew they were important, in other words they were the richer members of the Capitol and they would be the ones sponsoring tributes. And Finnick had turned on the charm yet again, giving that blinding smile, waving to the crowd, blowing kisses at women who swooned and almost collapsed at the attention. Even Mags was nodding her head at them, a smile stretched across her face at the attention she was receiving, but her eyes weren't smiling, the smile was for show, to keep up pretences. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. 

That's when I saw her. A small girl dressed in a bright pink dress that puffed around her, golden hair coiled in ringlets with a matching bow half the size of her head keeping it out of her face. She was so tiny, and almost being crushed in the crowd, I could see panic on her face about to give way to tears. My eyebrows drew together and I glanced at Lysander before striding over to the peacekeepers.

“Excuse me.” I yelled, “I need to get to that girl there,” I pointed at her, “The one in the pink.” Surprisingly they listened and cleared a path for me. I could hear Lysander calling my name but I walked towards the girl and crouched down in front of her. She looked at me and I smiled.

“Hi there. What's your name? Are you okay?” I asked softly. She nodded, sniffling and wiping her nose. 

“I'm Clio.” She answered in a tiny voice.

“There are a lot of people here aren't there Clio.” Nobody was making a sound, too busy watching me. “It can get a bit scary sometimes, especially when you're small like you.” She nodded again. “I'll tell you a little secret Clio.” Her eyes widened a bit and she leaned in. “I'm still scared of this as well sometimes.” I nodded solemnly. “But it's okay to be afraid of things and one day you might just find out that you aren't afraid anymore.” I plucked a flower that had been thrown at us by someone from the concrete floor, a pink carnation- my mind supplied, I snapped the stem and tucked the flower behind her ear. I smiled and she threw herself at me. Surprised, I patted her on the back and pulled away after a few seconds. She smiled back at me and held out a bouquet of flowers, all different colours and shapes, as I took them she tucked a white rose behind my own ear and whispered something.

“I want to be like you when I'm older.” The words hit me somewhere deep inside but I managed a smile and pressed a light kiss to her forehead before I walked back to the others. They all stared at me but I did what I did best and ignored them as people started calling my name much louder than before. My little display of humanity must have done something, made them feel something for once for that to happen. 

Flowers sailed over my head and jewels clattered on the ground as they became even more frantic to catch our attention. I felt Finnick's gaze on my back as I walked just a little in front of them, lifting one hand at a time to wave to the crowd. They went wild. Scrambling over each other to get closer to me, yelling my name louder and louder. One step in front of the other. Petals from flowers crunching underfoot. I smiled slightly as we finally got to the Remake Centre where our stylists would be. Peacekeepers waiting inside separated us and led us off to different rooms in the vast interior. The last thing I heard as the elevator doors shut was Lysander talking to Mags, I only caught the end of his sentence. 

“An angel.”

I stood awkwardly in the elevator, four peacekeepers accompanying me. Four. Did they think I was Cashmere or Enobaria? Because I had never had more than one accompany me at any time. They only give you them if they think you're dangerous, but there was nothing dangerous about me at all. So why? A ding sounded and the doors opened, I was taken to a room and left there alone, simply looking around the room. It was all white, stark bright white, clinical almost and like freshly fallen snow, pristine. I waited for a few minutes, kicking my feet under the table I had decided to sit on, before a small group walked in, chattering away. They gasped immediately upon seeing me. Two women and a man, all with brightly coloured hair. They hurried over to me and introduced themselves. 

“I'm Antonia,” said the one with bright blue hair, “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“And I’m Priscilla.” The other girl with silvery hair said brightly. I studied them, they looked similar, sisters maybe.

“I'm Quintus.” The man said. “We are your prep team.” They all smiled at me, a gesture supposed to be calming but the looks in their eyes made me nervous, and within moments the girls were stripping me of my clothing and bundled me into a bathtub filled to the brim with steaming hot water that was almost painful to touch. Antonia sprinkled bath salts into it that smelled overwhelmingly of lavender and mint. They scrubbed me with soap until my skin was red and raw but left a weird sparkle to it. My hair was shampooed and conditioned within an inch of its life, not a single tangle could be found once they were done with it. Then, they dragged me out, dried me off with a fluffy towel and wrapped me in a silk robe. They directed me to lie down, then they proceeded to tear out every scrap of hair on my body that they deemed unfit to be there. Warm wax spread across my skin, almost comforting before the pain that followed, then cool gel to stop the sting in one spot as they repeated the process again and again and again until I felt like a plucked chicken. Quintus spread some kind of clay mask on my face and let it sit while the others rubbed scented oils into my skin and sprayed perfume over me. He peeled the mask off and brushed some cream across my skin leaving it smooth and soft. I went to touch my face but he smacked my hand away, scolding me as if I was a child.

“No, no, no. You don't touch, we just got all the dirt out. Don't touch.” I didn't try to touch it again. They cleaned my nails, filed them into an almond shape and painted them a shining pale pink with pearly white tips, then did the same to my toes. They plucked and perfected me as if I were a doll for them to play with. All the while they chatted mindlessly and not a single word they said held any meaning to me. Talking about how exciting the games this year would be, who they thought would win- they assured me after that they definitely believed it could be me, I knew they were only lying to make me feel better. Fortunately for me they completely ignored my mark, perhaps they thought it was simply a tattoo since they were very common in the Capitol. Unfortunately for me they did not shy away from mentioning how attractive they found Finnick. I believe Antonia's exact words were that he could ‘Do whatever he wanted to her as long as the last thing she saw was his face.’ At that point I decided that the best thing would be to not listen so I tuned them out and nodded occasionally so they thought I was paying attention.

When they finished with me I had been primped to, what I assumed was in their eyes, perfection. They sat me down and inspected me, silently for once. Quintus hummed. 

“Good job ladies.” He praised Antonia and Priscilla. Then to me. “Your stylist will be here in a moment. After she's dressed you, we’ll do your hair and makeup.” 

"I thought that you did all that before.” At the confused look on my face as I spoke he elaborated. “She decided to do things a bit differently this year. Something about us being able to make you look better if we did it after because we would know what the dress looked like.” He rolled his eyes. “I don't understand personally but she's the boss.” Then they left. Giving me small waves and whispering to each other. 

I stayed seated, wrapping the robe back around my body tightly, shivering as the cold air touched my legs. The door slammed open and I jumped, my head snapping up to see a woman. She was wearing a long black dress that had shimmering blue detailing on it at the hem and bodice. She smiled at me, her white teeth standing out against her dark skin. 

“Hello Y/N. I'm Megara.” She said as she walked over to me. I could see her more clearly now. The blue on the dress was in a swirling pattern that reminded me of the waves back home, her hair was cut short with a fringe that fell just above her dark eyes that were flecked with green. “First I'd like to say that I admire what you did for her. Annie. It took great courage to volunteer to come back. Second, I am your stylist this year and I have a lot planned. Third, you're going to look incredible.” I blinked, surprised at how blunt she was. 

“I've never seen you before.” I stated and she grinned.

“It's my first year styling for the games. I'm younger than the others but I've learnt a few tricks from my older brother.” I tilted my head questioningly. “You may have heard of him. His name is Cinna.” I tapped my fingers against my skin.

“Katniss Everdeen's stylist.” She nodded and hummed.

“Yes. And this year my mission is to beat him. Well, less of a mission, more that I just want to rub it in his face when my outfits for you are so much better than the ones he's made for the girl on fire.” 

“How are you going to do that?” I asked softly and her grin widened.

“My brother uses fire. So I'm going to use water.” My eyes widened and I sat forward. 

“What do you mean?”

“I'll explain later but for now you need to get changed into these.“She waved a hand in the air dismissively and shoved the bag she was holding into my arms. “Once you’re ready I’ll get the others back in and let them do what they do, then I'll explain what’s going to happen out there.” She shoved the bag she was holding into my arms. I walked over and into the tiny changing room and just before I shut the door she called out over her shoulder. “And I actually want you to wear the bra and pants. Unlike anyone else in this place.” I snorted with laughter and closed the door. Once I was alone, I zipped open the bag and emptied the contents onto a bench. A set of white underwear, a simple white dress and a matching set of heels. I quickly pulled them all on and stared at myself in the mirror on the wall. The dress fell around my body in a sheet of white, it clung to the upper half of my body like a second skin but flared out slightly at my waist and hung loosely to swing around my ankles. The sleeves sat off my shoulder, exposing my neck and collarbone, the sharp bones almost seemed to cut through my skin, the sleeves fell down to my wrists and the fabric formed a sharp point where my middle finger joined to the top of my hand. The shoes were open toed, thin straps crossing my ankles and just above my toes, they were unfortunately heels and incredibly uncomfortable. I walked unsteadily back into the room, arms thrown out to the side to balance myself. The second I stepped in, Megara whirled around and her hands flew to her mouth. 

“Oh. You look perfect. The dress suits you so well, now sit, sit.” She waved me to sit down on a chair in the centre of the room. I sat and the prep team ran back into the room.

I was immediately swept up in a whirlwind of activity. They whipped out brushes, makeup palettes, hair brushes, sponges, pins, elastic bands, curling tongs, straighteners, and… was that a measuring tape? Quintus yanked my arms down to my side as Priscilla opened a huge case. He barked orders at her and she handed him everything he asked for. He painstakingly applied the makeup to my face, muttering things under his breath and twisting my head to inspect his work. Eventually he pulled back and Antonia took over. She brushed my hair viciously, making sure it was as smooth as possible. Then she curled it loosely, letting the curls fall down my back in spirals. She pulled the front part of my hair back and plaited them tightly around the back of my head in a crown. She twisted the loose strands out and let them gently frame my face, featherlight touches of hair against my cheeks. They finally stepped back to admire their work and gestured for me to stand up. I wobbled to my feet and gave a little spin, letting the hem of the dress flare out around me slightly. 

“You are a masterpiece my dear.” Quintus told me. “You look incredible. Nobody will be able to top this.” 

“Don't mess up the hair.” Antonia chimed in from behind him. I looked over my shoulder to see myself in a mirror Megara was holding up. They had given me only the thinnest layer of makeup to conceal my flaws, then added sparkling eyeshadow and dramatic mascara to lengthen my lashes. In effect, it made my eyes look larger and more pleading, more innocent. The dress revealed just over half of my back, cutting down in a soft curve and exposing the thin silvery scars weaving their way along my skin. Practically invisible from a distance which would be fine but close up they seemed to be the only thing you could see. They weren't ugly per se. They weren't as bad as some of the scars other victors had. In fact I quite liked them. They reminded me of home in a way. The way they twisted unpredictably across my skin like waves. Always changing, never staying the same for long. So no, they weren't ugly, at least not to me. To me they were beautiful. They reminded me of all the trials I had suffered, the torture I had undergone a few years ago when President Snow made me an offer. And I had refused. But you can't refuse Snow and expect to get away with it unpunished. 

My hair was perfect, pinned up just right and styled in a way I never would have been able to recreate myself. The sleeves covered up my mark which was good, I wouldn't want to have to explain that to anyone, especially not the man I would be on the chariot with. I twisted my wrists to look at the palms of my hands rather than the white satin, soft against my sharp bones, reddened dents from my fingernails lined them, small bruises from smacking my hands down too hard on corner surfaces and calluses spread across them. Perfect as far as they could see, with the best clothes, flawless makeup . But not really. 

“Now hold still just a moment dear.” Priscilla swooped down on me like a vulture, brandishing baby pink lipstick and gloss. She swiped them onto my lips as quick as a flash, leaving them slightly tinted and glowing. They all turned to look at Megara and when she gave a decisive nod of approval they all filed out of the room, lugging behind their suitcases and bags. No sooner had they left the room, Megara sat me back down and brought out a jewellery box. She reached in and took out a sparkling diamond necklace. I gasped and she clasped it around my neck. 

“So the necklace is really just for a bit of bling. This is the pièce de résistance.” She dipped her hands back into the box and extracted a delicate tiara, thin pieces of silver wrapped around diamonds and pearls. She placed it gently on my hair, tucking the sides of it under the braid to secure it. “Now you look perfect.” She told me, holding up the mirror so I could see myself again. I took in the plains of my face, she was right, I did look the perfect part. She interrupted my thoughts. “I should tell you I have no idea what Finnick will be wearing because his stylist has hated me ever since I refused to go out with her brother. “ She rolled her eyes. “It's a long story that one. But given his appeal to the Capitol I would say it'll be interesting to say the least. In any case, you'll look incredible next to him. Now I should probably tell you what you're going to do when you're in the chariot okay. So listen up because I'm only going to say it once.” I listened intently, a smile blooming on my face as she gestured wildly, animatedly explaining her master plan to me. I asked a few questions which she answered, albeit a little reluctantly. Then she was checking her watch and ushering me out the door and down to where the chariots would be waiting. “We have half an hour until the procession. I know I'm only your stylist but try not to draw too much attention to yourself. Although that may be hard considering this dress. “ I laughed loudly. 

“Don't worry Meg. I'll be fine and it'll all work out. I promise.” I clasped her hand in mine and grinned. “Now I'll make you a bet.” Her eyebrows rose and she leaned in. “I bet you Finnick will be wearing nothing on top and not nearly enough on the bottom.” She eyed me up and down. 

“Okay then, why not. I'll take my chances. Besides,” she smirked,” I'm not so sure you'd necessarily be opposed to that.” Her eyes latched onto my wrist and she gave me a knowing smile as I flushed bright red. “I won't tell. I promise. We can gossip about it later.” She winked and with that was gone, yelling over her shoulder. “See you out there angel.” I smiled at her antics, a smile quickly replaced as peacekeepers escorted me through the doors and into the huge space where all the tributes were gathering. I took a deep breath and prepared myself.

Taglist:

@nekee-lilac02 @hinata7346 @bambikitten @the-lonely-abyss @mxacegrey @m-maxie-ie @not-aya @camatchoum @maw1dk @avoxrising @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @somdreamy @thehairington86 @millzluvrs @val-writesstuff @erindiggory @reader-bookling123 @elisa20beth @maxinehufflepuffprincess @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @mystargirl-interlude @ponkaniee @missunicorn @thatonegayloser616 @purplelavin @user123453226780536 @littleanubis

If you want to be added to the taglist let me know!

#finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick odair x you #thg x reader #the hunger games #angst #catching fire

[pinkaditty]

Pink Slush

*timidly tiptoes into my blog but crashes into a comically placed vase and breaks it into pieces and it makes the "oh no, our table!" noise*

looooooong a/n: hiiiiiiiiii............ so it's december! and my last thirst was in october! in my defense... im graduating with a B.S. next semester bro. lots going on woo! but thankfully break is here and all i have to do next semester is research! so ill be active lots more i promise <3 anyways as a thank you for waiting so patiently i have decided that u all deserve a little treat and that little treat is a typical aphrodisiac-induced threesome, except it's between you, Solomon, and Barbatos! IT'S NOT FINISHED but it's in the works so enjoy this little sneak peek of it <3 after this ill work on finishing part 3 of the pervert series and then im answering some asks!

CW: slight dub-con bc u all r under the influence of an aphrodisiac, but otherwise fully consensual, no penetration yet but there is some humping, panting, and lots of men moaning. mc's physical attributes aren't mentioned, so gn!mc.

MINORS DNI PLEASE!! I WILL BLOCK MINOR BLOGS AND AGELESS ONES! PLEASE RESPECT MY BOUNDARY!

It had all started when you, very innocently, asked Solomon if you could participate in his potions-making sessions this afternoon. You didn’t know what he had been making for the past few weeks, but the fat black cauldron had been sitting on his desk for days at a time; bubbling in magenta and overflowing in blue and being his overall first priority when it turned pink. You weren’t even let into his room much anymore, because he’d be so busy taking care of the thing that you couldn’t spend time together. You huffed at his broad chest as you were ushered out a second time, Solomon’s strangely pink lips uttering various excuses of “you being in here is dangerous!” and “something might go wrong!” and “i don’t want you to suffer from any side effects”. His lips were all you could stare at as he continued to mumble something about the potential dangers of the potion and how having a novice around would do more harm than good. Absent-mindedly, he leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to your forehead, promising to spend more time soon. You realized that he probably hadn’t meant to do that, because the second you pressed your fingertips to your forehead in shock, his face burst out into a deep pink blush. He coughed and hurriedly turned his head to the side, muttering about the side effects again, apologizing for the potency of the potion, and closing his door. You could still hear his muttering. 

The upside to Solomon’s newfound business was that he no longer had any time to cook as often as he used to, so your favorite demon, Barbatos, was at Purgatory Hall’s kitchen, helping to fix a treat for dessert after having brought leftovers from the castle for dinner. You figured, since Solomon wouldn’t let you in, you’d just go and attempt not to be too much of a burden to Barbatos. Upon reaching the kitchen, delicious smells of ingredients you were familiar with filled the air. You were surprised to discover he had been making commonplace human world dishes today. “Hey,” you start, Barbatos turning to you to acknowledge your presence and give a soft smile in greeting. “What are you making?” You approach with your arms behind your back, not wanting to disturb Barbatos too much. He smiled a little wider at you and turned back to his work. “Trying to replicate human world ice-cream.” Barbatos’s voice was ever monotone, and he often spoke in small half-sentences when he was busy. You never minded. If anything, it was endearing to you. He was always so dedicated to his work, sometimes so absorbed in it he didn’t notice anything outside of it. However, you knew he wasn’t unaware of your staring, and it was obvious in how he moved. You didn’t mention it. “Made cookies to go with it.” He shrugged his left shoulder in the direction of a pan full of chocolate-chip cookies, aromatic and fresh from the oven. You hadn’t even noticed Luke’s small figure before you entered, but there he was at the counter, reaching upwards to feast on a cookie. “Have some. And please prevent Luke from eating them all.” The first two words were said suspiciously close to your ear after you’d turned away to glance in the direction he’d shrugged. You pretended to ignore the heat on the back of your neck and tips of your ears as you approached Luke, gently patting his head. He wiggled and shouted in protest, but ultimately let you, holding your hand in his hair when you tried to pull away. With your other hand, you reached out for a cookie, and ate it rather quickly. Barbatos’s baking was always top-notch, and today was no exception. The buttery cookie melted on your tongue, warm chocolate spreading over your taste buds. You had to stop yourself from reaching for another one and turned Luke’s attention away from the cookies so he wouldn’t eat more. With him safely nestled in the couch next to Simeon, watching a crude human world reality TV show, you found it okay to return to Barbatos’s side. He had already finished the ice cream, so there was no way for you to help in making, but he happily invited you to taste test it. 

He held out a spoon by it’s handle, a large dollop of ice cream on it’s end. You couldn’t decide if he intended for you to eat it or take it first. Without thinking too hard, you leaned forwards and took the spoon in your mouth, gently coaxing the ice cream off of the spoon and into your mouth. Barbatos momentarily froze, almost unnoticeable before returning to his demeanor. His smile was gentle, and his eyes shone with an unreadable expression. You slowly leaned off of the spoon as Barbatos slipped it from between your lips, and turned away to put it in the sink. 

He turned back towards you to watch your expression. You could tell he was curious, but he did not show it. His head was tilted in observation, his classic reserved expression and gentle smile on his face. “How is it, MC?” You are surprised when you hear him speak, jolted from your observation of his features. You nod vigorously, expressing your approval of his attempt. He smiles wider and turns away, preparing for clean up. 

“Ah, by the way, MC.” Barbatos addresses you as he’s turned away. He knows better than to suspect you may have wandered off. “Forgive me for my forwardness, but if I may, what are you doing down here?” You watched him as he moved back and forth across the creamy marble tile of the kitchen, picking up dish after dish, his arms gently flexing with every heavy pan, hands covered in bubble mesh from the soap. “I expected you to be upstairs with Solomon, helping him with his potions today.” You didn’t miss the way his voice grated when he said his name. You sigh amusedly at their fight, hoping Barbatos didn’t hear it. If he did, he makes no move to make it obvious. 

“Solomon won’t let me into his room any longer… He’s making some really intricate potion and it’s been eating up his attention lately…” You pout without realizing it, having wanted to spend time with him after not seeing him often in weeks. You were rather fond of his antics, and treasured the time you spent together, learning all sorts of new magic from him and deepening the bond of your friendship. Sure, perhaps you might be pushing a little hard to spend time with him, but it’d been weeks. That much had to be understandable. 

When you look up, Barbatos is turned towards you, rolling his sleeves down and donning his gloves. The cleaning had already been finished, ice cream placed in cold storage and cookies left out to be ravaged by whoever. You smile at him, his efficiency never failing to surprise you. He smiles back, gently, before returning his attention to his gloves. “Have you heard what it might be?” 

“No, and I really want to figure it out… But he won’t let me in.” You sigh, turning towards the stairs, wondering if a third try today was really worth it. You heard Barbatos approach from the side, looking up the stairs with you. You glanced at him from the side, and you could see the gears turning in his head. Both of you wanted to see him - likely for very different reasons - but wanted to see him regardless. 

“Let us go upstairs.” Barbatos spoke suddenly, and you turned to him fully. “I need to speak with him about the condition of the kitchenware after his atrocious cooking.” His expression was as displeased as you’d ever seen it, his eyebrows quirked downwards, and his lips in a straight line.

A smile spreads across your face and you have to muffle your laughter in your hand, following Barbatos up the stairs. Upon reaching the wooden door of his room again, Barbatos reached out to knock, announcing his presence. There was no answer, if not for the ominous humming of the potion and occasional whooshing and crackling sound of the fire underneath it. Barbatos’s eyebrows quirked in annoyance, and you brought a hand to your lips again, stifling your laughter. Barbatos once again knocked, announcing his presence slightly louder. You piped in as well this time, hoping Solomon would listen. There was still no answer, and Barbatos was becoming increasingly frustrated. You turned to him, about to insist that you come back later, when Barbatos reached out and pushed the door in, having realized it was unlocked. 

The scene that greeted you was expected: Solomon hunched over his potion, which was glowing neon pink on his face, the light highlighting the dark circles under his eyes. His hands were hovering on either side of the potion, as though prepared to grab whatever leaped from the cauldron and stuff it back in. He hadn’t seemed to notice your presence, too focused on the potion. You glanced at Barbatos, who was already storming in, uncaring about his privacy or lack of response. You followed, though significantly more timid, not daring to storm for fear of toppling his potion over. The fumes for it were already potent as you stepped in, and you swung the door shut to prevent it from wafting into the halls. The potion smelled overwhelmingly like a mix of perfume and musk, invading your senses but still rather somewhat pleasant. The smell of it made your body feel warm and somewhat weakened at the joints, like a warm cup of hot chocolate or the arms of a lover securing you in their grasp. You blinked, resisting the cloudy feeling in your head as you looked up. Barbatos was now in conversation with Solomon, likely berating him for the state of the kitchenware, while Solomon occasionally retorted back, still mostly focused on the potion. When Solomon looked up and noticed you, his expression went from surprise to slight frustration, his brows furrowing and his lips quirking down in displeasure. You knew he didn’t want to see you in here, but you waved at him anyway, and he rolled his eyes, attention too split between Barbatos and the potion to force you out. You walked over to where he and Barbatos were speaking, standing just behind them, watching Solomon hover over the pink, bubbling mixture. It was thick and gooey looking, some of it overflowing and dripping down the sides of his cauldron. The smell of musk and perfume was stronger as you got closer to the potion, but still pleasant. 

You don’t quite know what happened next. Barbatos must have said something that made Solomon turn to him, exasperation laced into every one of his features, contorting his expression. As Solomon turned, he knocked an elbow into the edge of the cauldron, and it tipped over, the gas and sludge spilling all over the three of you. 

Your shoes and pants drenched in pink sludge and the rest of you surrounded by a thick pink gas, you only have two seconds to feel displeased before a strange warmth spreads through your body. You swallow roughly at the feeling, heat rising in your cheeks. Your lower body begins to twinge strangely in response to the warmth, and you shudder. When you look up to survey the others, it seems they are in a similar state. Also covered in the pink sludge, but the redness of their cheeks betrayed their outward angered expressions. You wave away the gas, while not unpleasant to breathe, still very intoxicating. You clear your throat once the gas has mostly dispersed, still feeling warmth all over your body. When you try to speak, your voice comes out low and thick with arousal. “What… was that potion?” You hold a hand to your throat, surprised at your own voice. You attempt to clear your throat again, but when you mutter to yourself, there is no change. The warmth continues to build, intoxicating and somewhat suffocating under your clothing. The blush on your face deepens as you shift uncomfortably, everywhere your clothes brush against your skin burning with arousal. 

“That,” Solomon spoke, rather incredulously, thwap-ing a palm against his forehead. “Was… an extremely potent… aphrodisiac.” He spoke slowly, his words punctured by hisses and moans disguised as deep exhales. The sound of his voice was strangely intoxicating to you, and you couldn’t help but notice the pinkness of his lips again, watching his tongue flick against them as he prepared to elaborate. “I was brewing it… for a client… and now, here we are.” He had one hand fisted in the collar of his shirt, pulling it away from his skin to alleviate the growing heat. He didn’t sound angry, but it could have been the nature of the aphrodisiac softening his voice. His breathing was heavy and still punctured by small whimpers. He gripped his desk for support, trying to stay upright. 

You swallowed, watching his lips form these whimpers. You gripped your shirt too, both to distract yourself and to hopefully alleviate the way his actions were entracing. You forcefully turned your head away, towards Barbatos, who was also not in a very good state. It was then that you realized how potent this potion must have been, because even he could not keep himself upright. He was also gripping the other end of Solomon’s desk, unable to stand. His legs were shaking where he stood, and one hand was tugging at his collar. You watched his throat bob as he swallowed, breathing heavily and biting his lip. You couldn’t see his face, as he was turned away from you both, but the tips of his ears were a very bright red. His demonic features were beginning to unmask themselves, his tail swaying and his horns sprouting from his head. 

You were not in a good state either. Somehow, you’d lost your balance and tumbled backwards, landing on the edge of Solomon’s bed. You were panting, clutching at your R.A.D. uniform, fingers shakily moving to undo the buttons. The heat was too much. The shifting of your clothes was too much. Arousal blazed within you simply from sitting there, feeling your fingers move across your chest. You grit your teeth and your thighs twitch as you attempt to stave off the arousal and stay still.

“Nngh…” One of Solomon’s tantalizing moans. You bit your lip and squeezed your eyes shut at the visceral reaction you had to his sounds, breathing heavily to calm yourself. When you could stand to, you opened your eyes and turned to glance at him. His face was red with arousal, eyes closed tight as he gently peeled his uniform jacket off of him, attempting to relieve the heat. You watch as it slides off of his shoulders, leaving behind a formal black button up that clung to his torso, slick with sweat and stuffy from the heat. You tried to look away, but couldn’t, enamored with how his fingers began to fiddle with the buttons at his collar, whimpering at the chance of freedom. You watched as his pink lips turned very red when he bit them, stifling his own moans at the feeling of cool air on his neck. 

You were dizzy with arousal. You had barely managed to peel off your own jacket, reluctant to go any further, but the heat seemed to urge you. You squeezed your legs together as your lower body twinged again, this time with more arousal than the last. You let out a strangled breath, gripping at Solomon’s bedsheets. You lifted your chin upwards, determined to resist the urges.

“Haah…” It was unfamiliar, but you could tell it wasn’t Solomon this time. Your eyes flew to the butler as he straightened up, having removed his tie, holding it in his gloved hand before it fell to the floor. Barbatos was leaning against Solomon’s desk, face red with arousal, a hazy look in his eyes. Gripping the desk with one hand, he lifted the other to his face and bit at the end of his glove, pulling it off of his hand. It slid off with ease, and he groaned at the release of heat, the look in his eyes becoming hazier. He removed his glove from his mouth, and there was a small string of saliva connecting his lips to the glove. He wiped it away, and bared his fangs for the second glove. 

Before you could watch him do it again and feel your arousal grow, you flop onto the bed and turn yourself over, muffling your moans with the nearest pillow. You lay your upper body across Solomon’s bed, face buried into a pillow, knees giving way and struggling to keep yourself up.

You did not hear the shuffling in the room, nor the footsteps, nor the hesitant movement behind you, having been too focused in muffling your own cries of arousal into the pitiful pillow. But you do feel when a weight from above presses into you, arms reaching for your chest, and a tongue presses into the back of your neck. You cry out in surprise, gripping the sheets harder and arching your back, feeling your backside hit the peak of someone’s arousal. When a strangled moan and push back are done in response, you know it is Solomon. He pants heavily for a moment before continuing to leave open-mouthed kisses on the back of your neck, lapping at the collection of your sweat and leaning forward to nibble on your ear. You bury your face further into the pillow, beginning to feel short of breath. You couldn’t even think straight anymore. You reached behind yourself for Solomon, lacing your fingers through his scalp and grabbing a fistful, attempting to ground yourself. Solomon moans loudly into your ear, curling his back and snapping his hips forward into you. You hear him pant as you feel the hardened length of him push between your thighs. You squeeze your thighs together, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you feel him continue to press further. His heavy breathing is indicative of his tongue lolling out, and it’s not hard to imagine his eyes rolling back either. Eventually he swallows and stops pressing, relieving some pressure on you and instead burying his face in the crook of your neck, mindlessly lapping his tongue at whatever exposed skin there was. Not wanting the pressing to stop, you pull on his hair again and he whines, pressing forward, face level with yours. You see tears prick the edges of his eyes as he presses between your legs again, feeling him brush against you. You muffle your moans into the pillow and he muffles his into your neck, reaching down to grip at your hips rather harshly, lost in the pleasure. He continues to mindlessly lap at your skin, pressing his forehead into your hair. 

You almost don't notice when the bed dips in front of you, the mattress now supporting three weights. It is then that you remember that you have managed to effectively trap yourself in with an accomplished immortal sorcerer and the most powerful demon in the three realms. Both of which are experiencing major arousal. Including you. 

You force yourself to look up, Solomon still buried in your neck. You were certain you looked a mess, but the stuttered exhale from Barbatos indicated otherwise. Barbatos didn't exactly look a mess, but he was certainly sweaty, disheveled, and full of yearning. His jacket and dress shirt were still on, but both were unbuttoned partway, revealing his neck and upper chest, glistening with sweat from the sticky heat. His mouth was wide open, panting for air, but his lips were curved upwards in a wicked smile. His eyes were shinier than before, glowing just slightly as his tail whipped back and forth behind him. You couldn't say that you weren't somewhat excited at this.

Barbatos began to tremble, leaning forward towards you until your faces were level and his chest was pressing into the bed. He leaned into the sheets, pressing his cheek against the thick comforter. His eyes were watery and he was still panting. You could see his fangs through the small part in his lips. "F-Forgive me…" His voice was low and breathy, and his eyes rolled as he spoke, as if simply exerting energy speaking was costing him. "Forgive me, MC… Every second, it gets… harder…" He suddenly inhaled sharply, gnashing his teeth together, trembling harder before releasing, exhaling heavily. He whimpered softly, closing his eyes and biting his lip to stifle anything further. You watched his face, paying no mind to the lack of movement behind you. You couldn't explain it, but this only made your need swell. His lips, small but soft and pink, were becoming discolored the longer he held them between his teeth. His hair was scattered over the comforter,  blue green strands hanging in front of his clear emerald eyes. His cheeks were red and his skin was splotchy, both from heat and arousal. He did not look as prim and proper as usual, and something about it stirred within you, deeper than the potion effects...

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a/n: haha and that's the end of that for now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! had this in the works for MONTHS! it's taken my blood, sweat, and tears y'all. i hope you enjoy this for now and i PROMISE i will deliver! it will be late... but i WILL deliver!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #obey me swd #minors dni #obey me mc #obey me nightbringer #omswd #obey me! #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon x mc #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon #obey me solmare

[spacedace]

I know it was a prompt and u said you werent gonna do anything with it (and you so should) but i love ur two posts on the Queen of Clones Elle/Amnesiac Champion Kon AU (especially Kon's knight design (like ghost tattoos?!?!? so so cool) and Elle's relationship with him). Got anymore headcanons about this au? Who are the other clones you envisioned playing the background characters? Do Kon and Tim actually cuddle in the Only One Bed scenario? Does Elle get a cool princess/queen design(s) since Kon gets a knight one? Does Tim walk into Kon's knight practice and have a "oh no he's hot" moment? Just afagshjdksll this au is so cool please tell me all about it

The thing is, whenever I say "I'm going to put X idea here for someone else to grab since I'm never going to do anything with it" I'm lying. I'm a liar. It's still lives in my brain and is taking over all rational thought. I have at least 85% of a story written in my head when I say that, I just know that I'm never going to sit down and actually write it down lol

I have SO MANY thoughts about this AU, you have no idea what you've done asking me about it haha

(and seriously if anything at all in my ramblings here is of interest to anyone have at it, everything I post should always be considered free game to use as a writing prompt haha)

Like, between Elle getting snatched by the GIW & Kon ending up in custody with the Justice League for a bit, a lot of the clones that weren't involved in the rescue(s) who are out in the wider multiverse come pouring in to check on them and there's this huge impromptu "Congrats on Escaping a Government Agency" party for the two of them.

There are so many clones just everywhere, Tim is overwhelmed by them all (and hasn't actually realized that the whole deal of the place is that everyone there is a clone yet). But he's dealing. He's sticking close to Kon (because he's never letting Kon leave his sight again, especially since he's half convinced that Elle kidnapped & brainwashed Kon into being her loyal servant for evil purposes) and getting introduced to the most diverse group of entities he's ever seen before (humans aren't the only ones who get into cloning).

And then there's an excited whoop as some kid comes flying out of a portal and launches himself at Kon, talking a thousand miles a second, just so happy Kon is back and okay and the boy is so chipper and happy and sweet that it takes Tim a second to realize holy shit is that Damian????

The kid is the Heretic, aged down and growing up again with a fresh slate after getting sent to Elle's Haunt post however he disappeared/died in DC canon (I'm a bit fuzzy on those details). Of course that information takes a bit for Tim to figure out, becuase the kid has no memories at all of being the Heretic or of Damian or Talia or Bruce or fighting his way out of a whale fully grown. As far as he's concerned he's Antonio, Paulina Sanchez' adopted son, and like sure he's somebody's clone but that really doesn't matter to him, he only comes to Elle's haunt to hang out and tag along behind Kon because he thinks Kon is the coolest. (Kon is explaining this to Tim as a bright, cheerful, normal kid version of Damian is sitting on his shoulders. Tim is losing his god damn mind).

And the Only One Bed Thing!! Okay, so like, Kon is Elle's Champion and basically her unofficial Heir. When Elle isn't around he's in charge of her Haunt and looking after all the other clones. And even when she is there he just goes full Big Brother mode on everyone. It doesn't matter if the clones that end up in the Haunt are actually older than him, he's their big brother now.

To that end, clones end up coming to Kon all the time in the middle of the night, unable to sleep because of nightmares and stuff. And Kon is the cuddliest motherfucker. He's all about platonic cuddles to help people sleep. Just about every clone that's ever spent any time at Elle's haunt has ended up curled up in a blanket fort in Kon's room getting cuddled into feeling safe and cared for.

So for Kon? Only One Bed is no issue at all.

Oh all the clones coming over for the party has taken up all the rooms and Elle is "too weak from recovering" for her Haunt to make more? Of course Red Robin can stay in his room! His bed is so comfy and there's more than enough room for both of them (and like, sure, he's kinda panicking a little because he's never cuddled with anyone he's sorta had a tiny bit of a crush on, but he cab be cool! Besides, its hard to fully commit to the crush one Red Robin when Mystery Boy is out there somewhere, oh maybe he can ask Red Robin about him! He seems to know so much about Kon he'll know who Kon is in love with back in his old life!)

Tim, on the other hand, is just fully:

Over the prospect of having to keep his shit together while sleeping in the same bed as Kon (who sleeps without a shirt, jesus fucking christ, Kon has tattoos now since when did that happen??? why is he somehow more attractive than when he disappeared??? oh god Tim is going to have a fucking heart attack) especially after Kon drops the bomb that the only thing he can remember from before is some guy that Kon was apparently totally in love with??? Like Tim is being thrown wildly between being a Bi Disaster to being totally devistated and back again.

He mostly manages to keep himself together, at least until it's actually time for bed and it turns out that Kon is a cuddler when he sleeps (Kon did warn him! "just shove me off if I end up trying to use you as a pillow it won't wake me up" he said, and Tim thought "well it can't be that bad" he was so fucking wrong) and Tim ends up wrapped up in a cocoon of muscled and tattooed Kryptonian arms with his face smushed into Kon's chest and Kon nuzzling into Tim's hair in his sleep and it's the most comfortable Tim's ever been in his life and Kon purrs in his sleep like how is that even fair??? (I love the Kyrptonian's purr headcanon so much it has to be in here lol)

By the end of the first week Tim's has slept more and better than he has in years. He's genuinely forgotten what it's like to have a normal sleep schedule. Even with all his panicking, Kon sleepily curling up around him and hugging him like a teddy bear just knocks him out. It's insane.

And Elle! I have so many thoughts about Elle in this AU!

I mentioned it in one of my other posts on this AU that Elle gives off Vibes based off her various Epitaphs that she's gained, and I think that she'd kinda push that to the max when it came to Tim for awhile when Kon first shows up with him.

Like, she takes one look at Tim and is like "ah, this is Mystery Boy my amnesiac bestie has been on about forever" while also realizing that Kon has no idea that he's just panic-kidnapped the one person he sorta remembers from his old life. Which is the oppurtunity of so much fun matchmaking chaos. And she loves Kon, she's planning on officially making him her Heir so that he becomes Prince of Clones as well as her Champion, she wants him to be happy.

But also she's protective over him, more even than a lot of the other clones that end up in her Haunt. Kon doesn't remember his old life and he was so badly injured when he ended up in Elle's haunt that Frostbite hadn't been sure he would survive. Add in the fact that Red Robin was clearly with the people that had captured Kon while he and the other clones were getting her out of the GIW facility (and that the Justice League is sort of a government agency in it's own right) and Elle isn't totally sold on Tim.

She goes out of her way to give off extra creepy vibes while around him. Making sure he understands that she's more than strong enough to destroy him if he even thinks about hurting Kon. At least in the early days of Tim being in her haunt. She does, eventually, lighten up - especially when Kon gives her the big eyes and asks her to trust him, that he knows that Red Robin is someone he believes is good and that won't ever hurt him. She's still keeps a close eye on Tim, but does chill out a little after that.

And she does have a Queen Form (and a princess form when she's doing her Crown Princess of the Infinite Realms thing). She has a couple different forms/designs depending on which Epitaph she's invoking (and of course a fun vaguely eldritch shadow form that scares the shit out of Tim haha).

Her Clone Queen design is BIG, not quite massive Eldritch Ghost King Danny big, but definitely big. Like 20-30 feet tall big, so she can pick up and carry/hold all her clone children like little babies (if any clones are from a race/species that's bigger than that her size adjusts so she's always big enough to carry them).

She has a crown made out of mirror shards that float around and move so that it's always changing shape (I've been feeling clones being called "Mirrorborn" in the Infinite Realms since there's kind of a naming convention already with "unborn" and clones could be seen as kind of like reflections in a way. Elle's official title is actually "Queen of the Mirrorborn" though sometimes is called "Mother of Mirrors" that's why Kon's sheild reflects things, since Elle made it for him out of a piece of her crown while naming him her Champion) and wears a dress that also looks like it's covered in mirrors. It's actually very soft and comfortable and it's super common for clones to climb around or curl up in her skirts and sleep in there.

Her dress does turn into armor though if she needs to fight. And while in Clone Queen mode it's actually super easy for her to duplicate herself a bunch of times.

Knight Training!

Once Elle chills out on Tim a little and is fully onboard the matchmaking train with the rest of the clones (all while absolutely none of them tell Kon that Red Robin is obviously his Mystery Boy) she has Fright Knight show up more often to train Kon specifically for the purpose of Tim walking in on shirtless Tim expertly going through sword forms and sparring with various other clones. And of course Tim and Kon have to have a sparring scene, where Tim is so distracted by Kon being so fucking attractive he ends up pinned against a wall with the flat of a sword under his chin and Kon giving him a cheeky wink and then it's on and there's a whole dramatic flirty fight scene as they make their way through half of Elle's Haunt while sword fighting.

Also! Since Elle's entire court is actually there for once, a bunch of different monarchs around the Infinite Realms decide to host a tournament, so Kon gets to do official knight stuff in his best armor. And Tim gets place of honor right next to Elle during all the jousting and fighting stuff so he gets the best view of Kon kicking ass.

Tim (still wearing his mask because even if he's pretty sure that no one here is evil or would use his secret identity against him - or even care that he has one) has been all dressed up in some gorgeous clothes fit for his status as "Companion" to a Queen's Champion/future Heir. Just something absolutely insanely georgous in the colors of his Red Robin suit, with a dramatic but entirely functionless cape and Kon's crest (not Elle's but Kon's) embroidered on it and it's Kon's turn to blue screen at seeing Tim for the first time all dressed up.

And Tim is maybe finally putting together from talking with Kon that he might be Mystery Boy that Kon remembers from before and that Kon is in love with. So just before Kon is going out to joust, Tim - taking Elle's advice that he should give Kon a favor before the tournament for good luck - and wanting it to be more meaningful than just a handkerchief or something, takes his mask of and gives it to Kon as his favor.

And Kon just loses his god damn mind because Mystery Boy and Red Robin are the same person and all he wants to do is kiss Tim stupid but Fright Knight Master of Chivalry is like "nope you gotta win this tournament and bring honor to your beloved and do this whole ridiculous song and dance about it, no kissing, get out there and smash some heads together - and keep your helmet on this time!" and just yeets a disgruntled Kon out into the field before he can do anything.

And of course with all this extra incentive - Fright is serious about that whole "prove your love through combat" thing he's not going to be allowed to even kiss Tim's hand unless he wins and is perfectly chivalous while doing it - Kon wins the Tournament and is given the flower crown he's supposed to give to the most beautiful of all the observers and of course he gives it to Tim and he doesn't care if there's a forty step courting process he's supposed to follow Fright, he's fucking kissing Tim and there's nothing you can do about it!

Literally seconds away from them finally kissing is when the Justice League kick down the door to get Tim back.

The ghosts aren't even the ones that wrecks the Justice League's shit for interuppting, it's just Tim screaming at them about being cock blocks for forty minutes while Kon screams into the void in the background.

(Kon does get his memories back eventually, and he and Tim do finally get that kiss and start dating. But at that point Kon has been named Elle's heir so Fright Knight is even more rediculous about Correct Courting Steps than before because Kon is a Prince now. Elle is just relieved that it turns out that the Justice League nuked the GIW while they were looking for Tim, because they were not okay with them or the Anti-Ecto Laws. Kon is mortified at having what is effectively his adoptive mother constantly popping in to dote on him while in the middle of fights, Elle is having a great time.)

#spaced asks and ace answers #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #god queen of clones Elle #Knight Champion Kon #Clone Club #clone club shinanigans #kon x tim #timkon #kon kent #kon el #kon el kent #tim drake #conner kent #danielle fenton #danielle phantom #dani phantom #dani fenton #justice league #fright knight #long post is long #i just have SO MANY IDEAS for this AU #Justice League: We're here to rescue you! #Tim - so fucking close to getting to make out with Kon in all his knightly glory: You're a bunch of mother fuckers is what you are #Just imagining Tim screeching like a banshee at Bruce and the rest while wearing a flower crown #he's had a consistent sleep schedule he's more powerful than they could ever possibly imagine #Also just imagine Cheerful Damian Clone Antonio wandering up like: Hi! You guys want to be my friends? I have coloring books!! :D #Justice League: *fear*

[goodluckclove]

I've been meaning to say something. (100 follower hot take)

Hey! Thanks for stopping by. I hope you've had a nice day. Why don't you rest with me for a while? I made some chocolate chip cookies - with shortening instead of butter, so they're very soft and very chocolatey. I made way too many and they aren't my wife's favorite, so I could use some help in eating them.

You're probably a writer, right? Or maybe you think about how you could be. Browse the tags here, or on other social media platforms. Maybe you used to write stories as a kid. I bet those were fun. Teachers might've thought they were impressive, or they dissected them line by line until the words didn't make sense in your head anymore. Either way, if you're here you're probably here for a reason.

(rant alert)

I dipped a toe in online writing communities on and off. My last attempt was forty-five minutes scrolling through the writing hashtag on Youtube Shorts (so TikTok, I guess? I don't know). I didn't like it. I really didn't. The thing that sticks out the strongest in my mind is one particular video where a woman claims that every story needs a second act plot twist.

Huh? Every story? All of them? Why? Since when? Who are you? What qualifications do you have to make a statement like that?

That's the common thread that makes a lot of writing spaces very uncomfortable for me. Successful writers are really only successful in their genre and for the given moment, so they don't have that much objective authority in the craft. And yet I see a lot of people deciding the things that you can't do in writing. Or the things you have to do, and how you have to do them. It was so much of Writeblr at first glance that I almost dipped out once again. I didn't, though, and I'm glad I didn't because now I get to watch some of the next great storytellers from across the world grow and examine and forge their way forward.

No one can teach you how to write. No, that's not true. Teachers teach literacy. Handwriting. Typing maybe - do schools still teach typing? Let me try saying it in a different way - no one, not one single person on this goddamned planet, has the right to tell you how to make a story.

I was supposed to get my MFA in creative writing before my first breakdown. My uncle stayed in the program I was meant to be in, and a few years after I dropped out he graduated. Recently I had the thought to look up his thesis novella, and as I searched I found myself regretting my decision to leave school. If I stayed and got to develop my writing in an actual class, with other writers and a knowledgeable professor, how much further along would I be than where I am right now?

It was bad. His novella was terrible. It was so bad I had a small existential crisis for, like, three days. He spent so much money on years and years of professional education and came out with a truly soulless story that read as if you prompted an AI to write the next Great American Novel. So if you think you need a writing degree to be a legitimate author, it could help connections-wise, but it ultimately won't be the thing that does the work for you.

Not all advice I see online on writing is bad. I find the people who are able to capture the "I" statements of therapy and phrase advice as things that have worked for them, or things that they personally enjoy, to be fine. Some writing advice can spark inspiration.

But if someone is the type of person to boil every story down to troupes and cliches, and then immediately say that every story that uses the trait they don't like is automatically bad for everyone? I'm dropping the kindness for a second - that's trash. That's a trash take and I see far too many writers use it as a reason to stop before they begin.

I don't like whump. I say my reasons in previous posts if you go back through my blog. But you will never hear me say that any story with whump in it is bad, because I don't know that. You might prove me wrong. I am an adult human being and I have the humility to admit that I can like something I didn't expect to. I genuinely enjoy the direction of The Human Centipede (only the first one) and if you cringed just now that probably means you haven't seen it.

There are so many types of books and movies and plays and comics out there. To enjoy a specific genre is fine, to ignore the existence of everything else is a really, really, really odd thing to do. Maybe someone will hate your story because they think everything should be Neil Gaiman, and therefore have no way to understand your epistolary high-Western. You are not the wrong end of that situation just for existing.

And at there is a definite threshold on how many writing tips you can gather before they stop being useful. If you find them interesting, that's one thing. That's fine. But if the culture of creativity online has made you feel like you need to educate yourself on every possible angle before you can write a story, you are actively harming yourself.

Imagine taking the level of structure you put on yourself in that way and putting it on children playing pretend in the backyard. Oh, Susie, don't you know that it's overdone for your Kitsune have dead parents? Xyler, shouldn't you ask someone else before you decide how Spiderman would react to this? It would make no sense and they do not need it. Kids will make a whole world out of nothing and it's the most fucked thing in my heart that at some point they get access to Reddit and dipshits start insisting that's wrong.

They aren't wrong and you aren't either. Your favorite creative influencer can't tell you your story, strangers on the internet can't tell you your story, your teachers and loved ones can't tell you your story. They can influence it, but they can't write it honestly the way you can.

You do that. That's the thing you do.

Man that makes me upset. I can't tell you how to make a story, either. If anyone sends me asks for writing advice the most I'll do is say what I've done before hopping into your DMs and starting a direct conversation. it's so personal to each individual artist, and I'd like to think that the people selling these classes and software and promoting these platforms haven't thought about that before. Otherwise it does feel manipulative. If you have a willingness to practice and imagine and really experiment with the possibilities, you are ready to write your story.

And if it doesn't work? Try again. That's what you do.

Stephen King has written roughly a thousand books and maybe five of them have decent endings. He is unimaginably successful.

I'm rambling now. I think I got that out of my system. I was really worried to say this out of fear of being too weird or somehow reverse-gatekeeping so hard that it circles back into also being a bad thing. I've just spoken to a lot of people who I still think of throughout my day, and I truly ache for them to get past the fear of creation. Because it's worth it. It's worth it and it's fun, even when it's messy and you're tired.

Let it Be just came on. Beatles. I haven't listened to The Beatles in a long time. Feels a little apropos.

I love you, reader. Reader, Writer, Colleague. Take care of yourself. Especially the little you, still sitting there in the backyard of your soul, bathing in the sun with their bare feet in the damp earth.

Consider joining them, maybe.

#writeblr #writing community #writers on tumblr #queer writers #authors of tumblr #on writing #writing #actually writing #writing resources #writing tips #writing help #writing advice #how to write #writing tips and tricks #writers supporting writers

[kachuusha]

I have reasons to believe that levi may have truly thought of living together with hanji back in ch126, based on his own monologue in ch136:

before hanji said "maybe we should just live here together, right levi?" in ch 126, hanji expressed the feeling of being trapped and that they've reached seemingly reached their limit.

"sounds like our time has come. you might feel like you're doing the right thing, but times change and you find yourself in a cell."

at this moment, I think hanji felt that their time as scouts may have already come to an end. hence, they thought of leaving everything behind to start anew (together with levi)

similarly with levi in ch136, he asks what if their roles had already ended way back then? when they got those brats to the sea?

both hanji and levi had a period of uncertainty regarding their duties as members of the survey corps. which I think is reasonable because while hanji and levi both have a strong sense of duty, they are still humans nonetheless.

I think it may have been possible levi was on the same track as hanji in 126, just that we never saw his direct pov in the forest. I get the impression that he might've thought of agreeing with them, BUT things take another turn after they got summoned in the paths by eren.

they learn that eren has activated the rumbling and this may have served as a sign to levi and hanji that their roles aren't over yet. humanity still needs them.

which leads us to this conversation:

it's not that levi was rejecting hanji (like I've been saying, I believe he might've agreed with them if eren never activated the rumbling), it's just that he knew hanji would never sit back while countless of lives are getting slaughtered. their roles are not done yet. if they let this happen, the sacrifices their comrades had made would be put in pain.

and it does follow the pattern of levi's monologue because he continues with this:

and hanji in 127 says this:

again, basically, both levi and hanji did have a period where they hesitated with their roles, hanji had a direct dialogue addressing it ("I was the one trying to run away"), but it circles back to their duties as scouts, the world getting flattened isn't what their comrades has devoted their lives for so they must protect it. they are going to save humanity or whatever's left of it. they can't just run away and take that brief moment of peace just for themselves.

also as hanji puts it "I feel the eyes of my comrades on me." "almost all of them died without ever knowing that humanity existed outside the wall". hanji likely felt guilty over the fact that they thought of choosing peace for themself when their comrades had devoted their lives over their own personal desires. and I'm guessing it is the same for levi.

(just to add this here, there is actually something even sadder behind levi's monologue. but it's too long to discuss it here.)

also, I think someone might ask, but what about levi fulfilling the promise he made with erwin back in shiganshina? would he still run away when he needs to do that? okay I have this guess that levi had already come into terms that he failed:

in the forest, levi admits to himself that he screwed up. and later during the battle of heaven and earth, he says "I've never bungled one of his orders. not even once. and yet for some reason, his final order is the kne that I just can't."

but you might ask, "he is still looking for zeke tho when he woke up?", and I think that's because of his newfound resolve, which is to stop the rumbling once and for all. it's likely that levi realized that this isn't only about the lives that were sacrificed in shiganshina anymore, the predicament they are facing at the moment is much larger in scale. and I think both knew that to activate the powers of the founding titan, eren would need his brother. so yes it does fall back to zeke, and then there's hanji's hypothesis (that levi himself brought up) that they may have to kill zeke to stop the rumbling.

there's also this detail back in 126 where hanji said "I'm sure you want revenge but right now..." and then levi proceeds with "if we keep running and hiding...what will that get us."

thing is, levi doesn't agree about taking revenge or what not. what he probably just had in mind then was to stop zeke and the rumbling, which is what he also assumes that hanji had in mind hence "I know you, you can't stay out of the action" to which hanji agrees.

and I think all these, adds weight to levi's motivation in attempting to hold hanji back from leaving in 132. it's not the same thing with erwin back in shiganshina where levi ultimately gave the call for him. hanji's decision has been made so why else would levi get in their other than to try and change their mind? and it wasn't likely over something like "we still need your leadership". levi addresses hanji as "four-eyes", therefore dropping any sense of formality (I know levi never stricly complied with using titles and honorifics but he stopped calling hanji with that nickname after RTS), which possibly hints to levi addressing hanji in a personal level. he is not asking hanji as the captain of the survey corps, but rather simply as levi who shares a deep personal bond with hanji. and if we take into account the points made above, the levi who also wanted to share a life with hanji.

but even before levi could draw any words out of him, hanji went ahead to say "you understand.", "just let me go will you?", which sounds to be a reference to levi's "I know you" back in the forest. likely to remind levi that they both made their decision then and this isn't the appropriate time to look back.

as you can tell, levi is obviously against the idea of hanji dying. when hanji parotted the same words erwin did in shiganshina, levi was visibly upset over it. interestingly enough, that was hanji's response to levi's "unrequited love for titans" line that has been thoroughly discussed by japanese fans that may have been holding certain nuances such as levi implying that hanji's feelings are requited by someone (possibly him). we can also connect this to the feelings he may have inwardly thought back in 126 but never got the chance to say out loud. but suddenly asks if levi thinks their comrades are watching them? again, probably in reference to hanji's words to jean and mikasa in 127 when they seem to be expressing guilt over the fact that they had thought of running away (taking their own personal peace), when their comrades died without even knowing about the truth beyond the walls. "I feel the eyes of all of my comrades on me". it's a bit similar to when erwin said this before when he was thinking of his own desire of seeing the basement, above his own duties as commander. so I guess we can say if erwin's personal desire was his childhood dream to uncover the truth found at the basement of eren's house, for hanji it was to live in peace (with levi).

the "live together in peace" trope had been used several times in aot and often with the strongly implied ships. but I think levi and hanji's were meant to directly mirror eren and mikasa's. note that I don't think that their dynamics as a ship are the same, it's different I tell you. but there are narrative points between them that appears to be tied? I think the fate of those two pairs are intertwined in a tragic fate? because as long as eren decides to activate the rumbling, hanji would definitely form the alliance to stop it and it would eventually lead to their death. eren had always meant to leave mikasa and his friends because of his plan to go forth with the rumbling, therefore negating the possibility of that reality of him running away with mikasa. and in turn, hanji (and levi) wouldn't have ran away as well back when they were in the forest because they would stop eren and his plans. (I actually have a separate post for this so I'm not gonna get into details now. )

in the end while levi and hanji's relationship lacked an outright label, I think there were enough hints that strongly imply that it had taken a romantic turn at some point. solidified by their (mutual) wish to stay together. it's a tragic tale between two people who devoted their hearts for others and sacrificed their own personal wishes.

#levihan #aot #mine

[aphroditesmoon]

Gwen x Gen neutral (fem) reader?? 👉👈 where reader is also a spider-person and Miguel introduces them to the others and it's basically like a love in first sight thing? maybe? reader's spider powers is up to you of course!! ^^

mirrored hearts

gwen stacy x afab!reader(gn)

summary: gwen has never met anyone like you before.

warnings: cursing, miguel being tired, made up multiverse(?), reader is inspired by trinity from the matrix.

a/n: such a cute req, hope this is to your liking!!

°°°°

WHEN MIGUEL O'HARA first met you, he saw in your eyes the kind of look he once had. An unbridled rage, towards the world, or towards yourself, he couldn't tell. But he did know that the anger, if untrained, could destroy you.

It is the year 80077, an anomaly has been seen in your universe, an additional problem to your already dangerous world. Spot, as you've identified, is not human, at least not anymore. Living in a world ruled by artifical intelligence with only 0.8% of trueborn humans existing, you aren't exactly bothered anymore with non human villains.

But 4 years since you became the remaiming human population's Spider-droid, you've yet to be met with one like him.

You would've caught him, of course, if you weren't distracted by a random multiverse hooe opening itself up in the middle of the underground wiring lab. The stupidly large looking spider-man did not hesitate to fling a badly designed watch towards you after a 15 minutes argument between the two of you gave Spot time to enter another spiderverse.

You would've flung the watch back at his face out of spite if you weren't curious to know where the road might lead you.

"That rebellious streak you have is going to end up costing you your life, you know?" The spider-man tells you after you're done insulting and cursing his whole family line. "I should hope so, because the only way I'll go down is with my head up high."

He rolls his eyes, muttering a 'cliche ass' under his breath before the two of you appear in the large headquarters.

You ignore the rapid spider-people around you, not wanting to betray your awe in front of Miguel. When another door opens for him, a much quieter space reveals itself to you.

"I don't like half of people we're about to meet either but I'll expect you to refrain insulting any of them in more than two languages, the only reason we're all here us because the fate of the mul-" "-multiverse depends on us, yeah I got that in the first 10 speeches you manage to give on our 1 minutes ride." You're pleased with the tired sigh leaving him.

You could see a few teenagers hanging around Miguel's desk, but what caught your attention was the dark skinned pregnant women making her way straight to him. "You should've called for backup." Her voice booms as she nears you both.

"Didn't need to, I had her." He says simply, nudging his head towards you before flinging himself upwards to his table. "Who the fuck opened dress up games on my tab?" You hear him yell, eyes directly at a man with a baby strapped to his chest.

You take a quick look at all of them before zeroing down on the girl, your eyes connected, and you sensed she was either uncomfortable or afraid of how your eyes are squinting on her. "Spider-droid, is what most people call me." You say, eyes still directly on her. "Droid? As in robots?" The big eyed looking teenager next to her asks.

"-And, who is she exactly?" The afro haired women ask, eyeing you up and down. A small crowd then began to form in front of you, Miguel then, finally has the curtesy to come back down in between you and the spider-people. "A spider-person. He responds with a sarcastic air in his tone, making the blonde with pink strands scoff aloud.

"Do you like, fight robots?" Miguel snorts at him, and you glared at Miguel. "Depends, most of my populations are robots, rather than trueborn humans."

The blonde opens her mouth to ask a question you already knew coming, you cut her off before she speaks. "I would be considered, a full human, if it werent for-" You wave your steel made left arm up, flexing the fingers, earning a few gasps and hums of understanding. "-this."

The silence came then, even Miguel seemed to be suprised, not taking notice of your arm before. "I-" She starts. You raise your brows at her. "I'm Gwen." You laughed, a short but unhelpable laugh. "Nice to meet you, Gwen." That has seemsed to snap Miguel out of his subconscious. It seems that man is allergic to social interaction that is anything but necessary.

"We can't let you go back for a while, I'll have your unierse supervised for any signs of Spot returning, but I have a feeling I know where he's going next, and I want you in." Your eyes snap at him and he gives you a look that challenged you to deny him. So you say nothing.

"Good. Penni, I want you to show her to the weaponary room, see if she can attach anything to that steel arm of hers, it'd be useful." Penni, who you just noticed exist, smiled widely, and you notice her gigantic robot-pet looking friend.

Before eitner of you moved, Gwen speaks up. "I can take her, I-uh, I need a new...new-uh, gun?" Miguel's eyes widen as he asks, "New gun? You need a new gun?" His voice in utter disbelief. "For backup, its handy-" She defends himself, resulting in him just waving her off, eyes shut in frustration. "Oh for fu- fine, whatever." He leaves in a split second away from you all.

Gwen and you watched him fly himself up his table before finally looking back at eachother. She's staring at you the same way as before, mouth open, confused.

You raised a brow in question and she just looks more confused. "Gwen." You speak. "Yeah?" "Will you take me to the weaponry room now, I don't bite, I promise."

Her mouth shuts close, and she lets out a wide eyed nervous laugh, shaking her head. "Right, the weaponry! I definitely um, remember, where it is!" She says, moving to walk in front of you as you follow her steps closely.

Your pace quickens until you're next to her, you notice she seema more relaxed than a minute ago. You were used to fear, and cautionary. You were raised by those standards. When your parents had died of mercury poisoning, you've taken their place in a fast succeeding company of scientific research at the age of 15, only a spider-droid for a year before the occurance.

All the tragedies that has happened to you, all to lead you here, in a building full of people who are just like you, yet nothing like you. When Miguel had told you of this, you almost tamed some hope of finding kindred spirits, but time and time again, you fall back into the hands of fear, and cautionary.

"We're here." She squeaked, making you flinch out if your daydream. "You gonna get your gun?" You ask jokingly. Gwen lets out a short laugh. "No, I don't think so. But um, I'll show you in." She offers, walking you in the guns and shooters section, the bulletproof suit vests' right next to it.

"I already have lasers, I don't think I'll be needing a gun either, or anything Miguel thinks can make me better." You explain, looking around the room. You see Gwen nods her head, eyeing your arm. "Well, If you want to take a shower instead, you can use a room im staying in here. How do you shower with that?" She asks. You give her a small smile, putting down a revolver you've been holding, back down to its place before turning to leave the room. "I take it off."

She was silent for a while, until you hear her mumble "Goddamn." As she walks behind you.

#gwen stacy #gwen stacy x reader #ghost spider x reader #ghost spider #atsv #atsv x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #miguel o'hara x reader

[spacexseven]

Ngl god darling is better than darling with a god ability tbh

Also would nikolai try to kill god darling? And I wonder what dearest sigma would think, he's just so lovely

OH ALSO HAVE YOU SEEN THE NEW XIAO THING? It's been around for a while and idk if I asked you about it but he's so pretty wth

not sure what xiao thing you're talking about but he's always so pretty i want to squish him

cw: yandere themes, bad end for nikolai :<

even with your years of watching people, you had yet to see someone like nikolai.

despite his claims that his motives were perfectly clear and that you should be able to understand him perfectly, he always seemed, to you, like a puzzle missing its final piece. what was that piece for him? was it the morality he lacked? when you asked him that, though, he told you that he liked to think he was a puzzle with too many pieces—sentience when everyone else lived like puppets, desire greater than any other, and so on. how could you complete an anomalous puzzle, with no real final picture?

"tell me," he once asked, voice uncharacteristically somber, eyes gazing down at his blood-streaked hands, "can a human become a god?"

it occurred to you then that nikolai was only trying to run from something. something that made him human, something he hated. you think back to the times when he told you he wanted to be free, wanted to stop feeling. was that the extra piece he couldn't get rid of?

still, he was kind to you. or at least as kind as he could be, between jovial, teasing comments and moments of unfiltered rage. he called you his friend, but he said that about fyodor too, and a few nights ago he was trying to convince you to kill him.

"can a god die?" at your questioning look, he added, "can you?"

"i'm not sure. i haven't gotten that close yet," you admitted "but i suppose for a god, being forgotten is as close to death as they can get."

"i won't forget you," he smiled, but the gesture was far from reassuring when his eyes glimmered with something bright.

you wondered if you had unintentionally sparked something in him. you even considered the possibility that you'd wake up the next morning to find him with a knife at your throat. if he was determined to kill fyodor to achieve what he thought was pure freedom, who's to say you won't be next? knowing nikolai, it was easier to believe that he was a monster, a creature of pure evil, bloodthirsty, and seeking to haunt. but things were never that simple. there were times when your heart ached for him, wondering why he had to go down this path. and those times, you truly felt useless, wondering if you couldn't do anything even in your position.

now, you wonder, if it was your sympathy that made you weak.

"it's not fair. i won't forget you," nikolai sighs, "even if anyone else will. but you'll live on even if i'm not here and you'll forget me."

you wish to tell him that you won't, but in your current position, bleeding out at a rapid pace from numerous wounds and head spinning, you can barely handle the pain, let alone move your dry lips. you remember that nearby you is fyodor's body, cold and long dead. it was almost cruel how the closest you'd ever felt to being human was when you were dying.

"hey, but you're a god!" he must have thrown his hands up, from your memory of him, but nikolai's voice grows shriller, though you can't tell if it's from excitement or panic, "you'll come back, like that thing you mentioned before? reincarnation! and you have...powers..." you could tell instinctively that he was looking over at fyodor's corpse.

you want to tell him that you aren't sure. you've never been much use, even as a god. you've always liked being a human more. maybe you will come back, but likely not, and you definitely can't save fyodor anymore. you don't think anyone can. but the words escape you as your vision goes black. the only thing accompanying your dying body was a warm hand on your cheek and nikolai's incoherent mumbling.

sigma, admittedly, was your favorite. you saw a little bit of yourself in him and his desire to find his purpose. but most of all, you liked his determination, his unwavering resolve. it was nice to see how he ran the casino so perfectly, and you thought his position complemented him well.

but unlike nikolai who was easy to sling an arm around and drag out or fyodor, who was always ready to listen to any word that came out of your mouth, sigma was a little harder to get to. he was always working, cleaning up after the other two's messes, and keeping his customers happy. always on the go, and it was getting harder and harder to catch him. the only times he seemed to be able to listen to you was when you caught him staring out the balcony at the world below the casino, only accompanied by the moonlight. he was always gentler then, softer, but more solemn. it was during one of those nights that he finally asked you something.

"so, you're really a god?"

you awkwardly shuffle, "yes. i know fyodor is a bit too enthusiastic about it, but i really can't do much anyway. i'm more like...the remnant of what i used to be."

"is this how the world looks like to you?" he asks, looing at the tiny blinking lights below.

"it's...overwhelming. the world is so big and full of life, and i've never felt like i was a part of it. i love being around people more than anything, but i'm always reminded that i'll never be like them."

sigma stiffens up, still not meeting your gaze, "you're looking for it too, right? to feel like you have your own place here..."

and then, for the first time since you met him, he smiles, "at least we have each other." you smile back, not realizing he took it a little too seriously.

despite your differences, you were just like sigma—maybe that was why he liked you so much. sigma knew all his customers by heart, slaving away to memorize each face and the mannerisms behind it, their likes and dislikes, just to design an ideal experience for them here. all he ever had was the sky casino, and he was aware of just how easily it could be taken away from him. because of this, it wasn't anything unusual to see sigma meticulously studying each of his guests, observing them closely, and noting down his thoughts. maybe that's why you never suspected anything when he stared at you for far too long, something other than a sense of duty burning behind his eyes, something unlike his usual concerns dominating his mind. maybe that was why you didn't mind his new interest in you, stepping in to drag you away from nikolai and boldly insisting to fyodor that he needed to talk to you.

if only you had said something then, you wouldn't have to face this situation; sigma on his knees, pleading for you to stay, to not follow fyodor out of the casino again. you might stay away for weeks, he insisted, and it wouldn't be safe. all he had was you, so please, don't leave with him. and looking at the pain in sigma's eyes, you already knew it wouldn't end well if you didn't comply.

#heyhey its the start of a new au #god reader 🐟 #yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere bsd x reader #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bsd #bsd x you #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #yandere nikolai x reader #nikolai x reader #yandere nikolai gogol #nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai gogol #yandere sigma #sigma bsd #sigma x reader #sigma 🐟 #nikolai 🐟 #ask 🐟

[sugar-grigri]

If you haven't done one before, could you do an analysis of Denji's use of sexuality as the only form of love he still has untouched?

Sex and love, two bets Denji wants to take

At first, touching breasts, getting close to a girl, was a way for Denji to fill something he didn't understand. Projecting his lack of relationships, and affection, into what was visible, represented on those posters and magazines, through all those sexual images. Denji is someone who reasons through his senses, his intuitions. For him, pure physical contact was love.

When he loses Pochita for the first time, Denji doesn't immediately place his feelings in the abstract. He's sad, having just lost his family, but physically, organically and symbolically, he remains in his heart, he is his heart. It's only afterwards, as Denji experiments, that he understands the ambivalence of relationships: things don't turn out as we'd hoped, we can even have bad experiences, be violated against our will even when we were convinced we'd get a reward, a pleasant, harmless act.

Proposing a carnal act is not necessarily an act of kindness; on the contrary, it's often a way of dominating and manipulating the other person. Falling in love and sleeping together isn't as simple as cooking and eating. It's a risk before it's a pleasure.

Then there was Aki and Power. The symbol of platonic family relationships. For whom Denji didn't realize his attachment until after their loss. To the point of understanding that losing someone isn't as simple to resolve as sleeping when you're sleepy. That it follows us without solution.

Denji understood this plurality of love, he also understood that sex, or one's own body, is a currency of exchange, as his dialogue with Yoshida had shown. A body can be bruised, sex can be non-consensual. These aren't just abstract concepts, Denji doesn't think like that; if he's understood them at all, it's through his own experiences.

In chapter 127, Denji catches up with Asa, subjected to the Falling Devil, who argues that life is only pain. What Denji is trying to do is reassure her, which is not easy for him as speech is not his strong suit. But he puts himself in her place anyway, and it's one of the rare times when CSM expressly and voluntarily helps someone simply to help them, without projecting anything behind it (he wasn't supposed to see Asa anymore).

He then talks about cats and dogs, because he knows that universally they are beings that bring us happiness. But he also evokes all his traumas: ice cream (Aki), cats (Power), but above all hamburgers (representing his mourning when he gave up control of his being to Pochita). Denji evokes them all positively, yet symbolically, they are all finely chosen elements that will evoke negativity.

But in the end, Denji says he's moving on to have sex one day. I know this isn't the right way to reassure Asa, but Denji wanted to help her, to comfort her, and he did it sincerely, because he can't change what he says if it's what he thinks. Wanting sex is what a teenager wants. It's also a desire for Denji not to compartmentalize growing up and not to pay attention to his needs.

Denji is attracted by what he can touch directly, by pure sensations. So it's natural that he only talks about sex. That's not to say he'll reduce his girlfriend to that, he just doesn't know what envelops the act, feelings, love. He's never had a girlfriend!

Denji was abandoned by his parents, dehumanized, having grown up with a demon, behaving like an animal. So he answers his questions with this latest experience, a sensation not yet acquired: the origin of humanity, his own, Asa's. If everyone's doing it, it must be good!!!

Sex is presented as two sides of the same coin in this part, as a kind of naive claim for Denji to move forward, to get out of his pain, but something that is constantly used against him, to manipulate him, that puts him in danger.

And once again, he begins to spot the danger, but can't fight it. Fumiko is the perfect example, a symbol of his sexual trauma to which Denji is completely subjected.

Denji is beginning to know that sex can be both positive and negative. But he also doesn't know how to discuss it, how to talk about it, especially to the girl he's interested in. As he thinks sex is something universally pleasurable so talking about it had to resonate in Asa as much as cats, dogs, ice cream. He presented something that was also traumatic in a beautiful light.

Denji wants a girlfriend, he wants to be loved and to love, yes. Even though love is rarely a pleasant experience, even a factor of despair.

Denji also wants to sleep with someone, yes something just as risky, or he consciously knows he can be used and manipulated for it.

Sex isn't Denji's way of being loved, it's like love, something as beautiful as it is traumatic. And Denji wants to experiment. Even if it means suffering. Because in suffering, there will always be pleasure.

CSM, the fruit of an act of love for Pochita and mourning for Denji, is above all the chimera of trauma.

Denji doesn't think he can get out of the trauma. He has experienced it so much that he now sees it as something necessary to experience. He doesn't confront suffering, he deflects it, even if it means suffering more.

How could Denji break out of this cycle?

By learning to trust.

And that's something he'll experience with a teenager who's distrustful, his opposite.

Both the attraction and the rejection of sex are normal reactions for two teenagers. But they are also two responses from the two protagonists to their own suffering.

Denji's obsession with sex is a desire to move forward, to tie the knot to the point of putting himself in danger. Asa's absolute rejection of contact is also symbolic of the fact that she no longer wants to suffer by connecting with others, even if it means suffering from her loneliness.

One is literally swept away by his suffering, while the other cuts off his own head to get some hope, accepting his suffering as necessary, even if it deprives him of his loved ones. And the result will be the same: solitude.

You can't throw yourself into someone's arms, just as you can't isolate yourself.

Loneliness will devour them if they don't bond with each other.

A relationship with someone you trust is enough.

#csm spoilers #csm 152 #csm 128 #csm 127 #csm 125 #chainsaw man #csm #csm part 2 #denji #asa #asa mitaka #power #aki hayakawa #makima #pochita #my thoughts

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Ari- pre baby....: Your boss is being cruel and said a horrible thing about you to the bosses of your boss about you

Warnings for--WOAH THIS GOT SO OUT OF HAND--yeah, so, bad/rude management, bit of angst and language, relatively-tame protective!Ari but look at this guy, nothing tame about him, and then not-at-all-tame sexy!Ari again please just look at him and I dare you to tell me I'm wrong, smut, bit of praise/dominance? maybe, mostly just hng. (I'm FINE, btw, I'm not like lonely or repressed at all, FWIW, this is a totally normal reaction to...whatever. I have no shame anymore. 🤷🏻‍♀️) MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. There is plenty for minors to read on my Light Masterlist, but this work is not for you! WC Who the hell knows. My guess is 2.5k about...

Too Eager, a Bedrock and Blueprints drabble

Sometimes you can tell by the way someone says something, they do not mean it kindly.

He's done it once before, your boss, described you as 'eager' when you volunteered to stay late and help with a project one of your coworkers messed up before leaving on an international vacation.

Someone had to do it, and at the time, you had no one to go home to. Why not? Dedication to your work makes you look good, right?

Wrong.

Apparently, eagerness crosses a line, and it's not a helpful or useful line. It's this ambiguous veil that you've passed through into being 'a woman' in this line of work. Eagerness translated to submissive and meek to your boss. He thinks you're a pushover now, and what's worse is there's no way to undo that stigma.

If you refuse to do extra, now that you have willingly done so before, you're not being a team player, you're being lazy, or you're clearly having 'a bad day.'

None of that is true, of course. You simply have a terrible boss, a man unable to interpret basic human decency without mansplaining it through a 1950s sepia filter for the incompetent.

You've come home crying a handful of times, played it off as nothing important to your boyfriend, and convinced Ari that you're just having those adulting pains that come with a full-time salaried position in a company hoping to do everything under the sun with as few employees as possible.

You're just worn thin. That's all. Ari understands that.

He even accepts that excuse for a time.

But then the phone call happens.

No, you aren't on the phone, and no, you are not meant to hear your boss say it to his bosses, but you do.

You once again 'volunteered' to finish a late project--if you can call being stared at by everyone in a meeting following the question "Who will handle this by Friday?" a voluntary choice--and walk past your boss's office to the restroom.

"Yeah, Donny--" clearly speaking to his own boss, Mr. Donovan, a golfing buddy once the courses open "--you know how these girls get. They're so eager to prove themselves. She's never said no."

Well, that just about sends you.

You're shaking by the time you wash your hands, splashing cool water on your neck in an effort to control the rising heat of anger. Frustration prickles behind your eyes.

Concentrating is impossible, and you text Ari to let him know you will be much later than initially thought. What can you do? What can you say that doesn't sound vindictive or childish? What happens when you go back on your word to get this done?

He joked about it, but saying 'no' runs a huge risk for someone like you. There's competition for this job. You had to work for years to be given this promotion even. Sure, you earned it, but it can be taken away just as easily.

Your boss knows that. Your boss's boss knows that. You think Ari knows that as well, but he actually doesn't.

Ari comes to pick you up, but when you refuse to come down to the truck, swearing you can't leave yet, he walks right on up to the offices.

He finds you in silent tears at your desk and kisses your forehead without a word. Your boss still chats in his office, seemingly avoiding going home to his own wife, loudly discussing the need for a new 9-iron.

Ari rips the phone out of the man's hand and disconnects the phone call.

"Hi, you don't know me and you don't want to," Ari starts with a huff that accounts for exactly 4% of his actual outrage at this moment, "but I'm here to pick up my girlfriend. She's been here--" he checks his watch "--an hour and forty-five minutes longer than necessary waiting for you to do your fu--job, and I'm taking her home. I assume you are capable of finishing your own damn work without supervision."

"It's not my job," your boss spits back.

"You're the manager. You've done her job before. You can do it again. It's what they pay you for."

Six-foot-scary Ari steps around the desk to prove his point.

"Unless you're so fucking lazy--" he tried not to curse, he really tried "--that you'd rather pay her double for every single second she puts up with your incompetence, daily, I suggest you get off your ass and do the work yourself."

The phone starts ringing beside him, and Ari picks it up.

"Hold please." He presses the receiver to his broad chest and glares daggers at the alarmed piece of shit cowering in a rolling chair. "She won't be here past five P.M. anymore, will she? Will she?"

Your boss shakes his head, taking the phone when Ari offers it, expressionless.

For good measure, Ari shoves the nearest stack of papers off the desk before stepping over the mess and walking out.

The entire ride home he thinks about how much he'd like to lodge that 9-iron so far up the guy's ass...and then realizes you're still crying quietly in your seat.

"Kid, I'm sorry. I swear, it'll be fine. He can't fire you for that. You still did more than you were supposed to, and if it takes him forever, that's his fault."

But you don't speak. Not when he rubs at your shoulders. Not when he opens the door for you. Not when you go to lay on the couch instead of eating dinner with him.

Ari sets a plate of food on the coffee table in front of you, but you ignore him and turn over, curling into yourself.

Sure, yelling at your boss wasn't his most tactical move ever, but that bastard's been messing with your confidence for so long. Ari couldn't take it anymore; he doesn't know how you have taken it for so long.

You must have fallen asleep.

Groggy, empty of that hot anger and embarrassment that fueled you before, you turn willingly when Ari sits on the couch and places your legs in his lap.

He’s quiet and gentle, stroking your calves below your work skirt, asking what you want or what you need, but your mind is just blank.

With the TV turned down, it’s just a hum behind Ari’s focused and flickering face as he watches you in rapture. He knows your bad days. He hates them as much as you do. He hates to see you as anything less than content, but he most loves to see you happy.

“Let’s get you comfy, okay?”

He rolls the zipper of your skirt down at your side and yanks it free slowly. He runs his hands up your body and back, under your blouse, to unhook your bra, ghosting a kiss to your clothed chest before sitting back up to tug at your tights. He didn’t say anything about you only taking your shoes off at the edge of the couch, which means Ari is being remarkably controlled for how much he hates shoes in the house. As he playfully shimmies the long and frustrating tubes of nylon over your feet, you sit up to pull off everything up top, letting the blouse and bra drop to the floor and crossing your arms over your bare breasts.

“Cold?”

You nod, and Ari takes off his own t-shirt right there to help you into. It’s warm from his body and each fiber smells deeply of a decade of comfort. His hands return to holding your thighs.

“Better?”

Yes, but you don’t want to talk about it.

You lay back and stare at the ceiling, watching what looks like blue flames dance over the beams and plaster. It wasn’t really your responsibility, it wasn’t truly your job you didn’t finish before walking out of the office, and it wasn’t even you who encouraged Ari to blow up at that shithead boss of yours, but tension and irritation still rise in your chest, constricting you as if the cotton switched to lead threads by some alchemy.

One of Ari’s large hands settles on your stomach beneath his shirt. Though it adds weight, the touch is human and grounding. He cares for you. He wants to take care of you, and sure, maybe his attempts have been imperfect so far but they show a willingness to listen and work. His other fingers draw patterns over the inside of your thigh, and he digs into the soft flesh a little more when you clench.

That tickles. He knows it tickles.

But he says nothing. He asks nothing. He stares forward like this is the most interesting silent movie he’s ever seen, except there’s definitely a lot of talking and he can’t hear a word.

He settles into an absentminded pace, and you don’t notice his position steadily moving until the tip of Ari’s index finger starts teasing over your panties.

His gaze doesn’t shift from the television. Ari’s pace doesn’t change at all for what feels like minutes, but you can’t be sure because you’re not able to pay attention to anything but that featherlight drag over your skin.

You turn slightly, and his hand presses heavier into your belly, pinning you there. As his fingers push closer, drawing more distinct and deliberate circles, you grab hold of his wrist, and Ari hums.

“More? You like that, sweetheart?”

He stops to instead trace the edges of your panties, letting you whimper and squeeze him, rubbing your thighs together over his lap.

“Maybe these are in the way, huh? Should I—“

You’re already lifting your knees to help.

Ari chuckles as he slides off your underwear. You gasp when he doesn’t let both of your legs back down though, hooking one behind his head to keep you open and exposed to him. He doesn’t fake watching the screen anymore. He scoots closer until your hips are propped up on his thigh, folding you at the mercy of his fingers.

“That’s it. Let me in.”

Though he’s no longer teasing, your boyfriend takes his time working in one, then two, then three fingers. As he becomes more engrossed in your sounds and little wiggles of response, Ari turns toward you, kissing the inside of your knee and thigh, drawn in by the sight of you taking him in so smoothly.

He coos when you tighten around him, shallowing his movements in favor of curling those fingers and rubbing his palm against your clit.

Your grip on his wrist is frantic while that tether in your gut threatens to snap. The scrambling makes Ari flip his pressing hand over for you to grasp.

“That’s it,” he encourages hoarsely. “There she is.”

He knows exactly how to fuck you, exactly how to throw you over that cliff and break you apart exquisitely, and he loves to watch.

“More,” Ari demands over your cries and the loud squelching of wetness between you. “Give me more. I know you can.” His hand holding yours remains weighty and urgent against your body as you convulse, milking your orgasm for all its worth and then ripping away to watch your cunt flutter around nothing. “Fuck, yes. More.”

You’re only vaguely aware that Ari shoves his drenched hand down his sweatpants to slick himself, squeezing your grip back.

“More,” you repeat.

Ari groans, tearing the pants down away from his hips to fist his cock harder at your words. “Yeah?” He licks his dry lips after a ragged breath. “That’s what you want? More?”

The only answer you can muster is bringing your joined hands up and sucking two of his fingers into your mouth, a grunt of unbridled lust punched from his naked chest.

He hurriedly picks up your clothes, stuffing them under your ass as a makeshift pillow so he can straddle the side of the couch and fuck into you, your leg still over his shoulder. His shirt rides up as he tweaks your nipples between those same rough, sticky fingers.

He huffs out praise—how beautiful you are, how good you feel, how grateful he is that you let him give you this—and tells you to take whatever you want, to come whenever you want.

Your jaw goes slack, but Ari immediately uses that spit to swirl around your bundle of nerves as he drives in faster, deeper, harder. The only thing your mind can hold onto while your body floats is the sound of him teetering on the edge of ecstasy with you.

He slows to ease you through the overwhelming intensity. It takes you a long time to notice he’s remained hard inside you, and after sweetly petting all over your skin to ground you, he almost pulls out.

You tense.

“You didn’t finish.” It’s a question and condemnation in one.

“You didn’t tell me to,” he says with a debauched smile.

Gingerly, Ari lowers your leg down to hook around his waist, bending to nuzzle against the long line of your sweaty throat, pressed to where oxygen rushes in and out of your ravaged body.

“Go on. Practice. Boss me around.” He leans back, ready. “You know I’m only too eager to please you, kid. Anytime.”

It’s kind and genuine, an open invitation, a request you can refuse, but you don’t want to say ‘no’ to Ari. He is patient and receptive, loyal and respectful. He protects you when you flounder to see your own worth. You’re wanted and needed. The advantage is all yours. You are neither submissive nor meek; you are as dedicated to your pleasure as you are to Ari’s. That’s the whole package. That’s the woman he loves.

Eagerness is not a fault. It’s a gift you give to each other and your lives.

“Okay, then, old man—“ you reach to scratch through his thick beard “—take me to bed. We’ve got work to do.”

Ari grins and scoops you up with sudden energy before realizing he’s about to trip over the sweatpants pooling around his ankles. You laugh, and he curses up a storm, kicking them onto the floor by your shoes.

Like he did that first day in the house, the first day he showed how much he felt for you, Ari follows orders and carries you down the hall.

A/N: I had a lot of trouble editing this because the month of May just melts my brain with how busy it gets. Hopefully, this turned out okay. I got a sudden bit of inspo when I woke up the other day, and it seemed like the way to go at the time...Now, I'm not so sure. I'm going out on a limb and posting this anyway. If it's trash, please let me know, and I'll redo it!

Taglist: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @jamneuromain @nana1000night

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#ro answers #bedrock and blueprints #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson smut #ari levinson x you #ari levinson fluff #sinful sunday #series