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#of course doing things to it that nobody would even notice
nicksbestie · 3 days
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Kittens - M. Sturniolo
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Summary : One specific person becomes a regular at the animal shelter you work at, always visiting the cats <3
Warnings : mentions of anxiety but nothing graphic!
Word Count : 1614
Pairing : Matt Sturniolo/Reader
A/N : i'm a sucker for baby animals and matt <3 maybe there will be a part two for this?
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You have always been an animal lover.
You’d grown up in a house full of pets, so really, it was no surprise that you had ended up working in an animal shelter, taking care of all of the pets there until they found a loving home. You worked at a no-kill shelter, and you were grateful for that, because there was no way you could get attached and then have to watch them die simply because nobody had chosen them yet. You worked there because you couldn’t take them all home with you, so you would spend a ton of time with them at the shelter to show them all of the love you wished you could give them forever. You couldn’t lie, sometimes your job broke your heart, for a multitude of reasons. 
Sometimes it was because you got attached to the animals, and then they got adopted. You were of course so happy that they got a loving family, but you did wish that you could be there for them, so it was a bittersweet feeling. Other times, you watched adoption paper after adoption paper fall through, and perfectly loving animals stayed in their kennels or were returned by families who had changed their minds. Even worse was when you saw the strays and abused animals come in, mangled and dirty, sometimes badly injured, and you hated the way they flinched away from you out of fear. You always made sure to show extra love to those ones, to let them know that regardless of what had happened they were in a safe place now, even though it wasn’t a luxurious home. 
You loved getting a chance to turn these animals' lives around, to make them feel better and redirect them to a family or person that would love them for the rest of their life, and you loved how many other people showed up for them as well. There were often people who came in to donate food, toys, leashes, or even just money, knowing that they didn’t want to adopt an animal or didn’t have the capacity to take one in, but still wanted to make a difference, regardless of how small. Every donation was always appreciated so much, and really did go to very helpful results. There were also the groups of friends that came in, the occasional birthday party for some younger kids who love puppies, and those often ended in an adoption or two, which warmed your heart.
And then there were the regulars. The people who couldn’t take any animals home, but loved them too much to not come visit them. The people who were there just as often as the workers were, nearly every day, who formed bonds with the younger and older dogs, and brought the shyer ones out of their shell. You were so grateful for the regulars because they really did help in forming trust between the animals and the humans. It helped with their socialization a great deal, and it had positive effects on the animals. The only thing that occasionally wasn’t great about it was that these animals would get attached to them, and be incredibly sad when they left, or when someone else took them home, but they always ended up okay in the long run. 
The workers also connected with the regulars, and some of them even joined the volunteer group, which was a great help because there was always something to do there. It was nice to have extra pairs of hands every now and then, especially when they were always willing to do something to better the lives of the animals they loved enough to come visit multiple times a week. You knew all of the current regulars by name, but you had noticed one boy who kept coming often enough that it seemed like he was going to become a regular. And you had yet to learn his name. 
He didn’t come every day like most of the regulars did, but he was here a lot. A little too often to just be popping by. He showed up every Wednesday and Friday, normally in the afternoon, and stayed until closing. He spent most of his time with the kittens, and it was heartwarming to see someone bond with all of the new babies. New kittens came into the shelter more often than people thought, as a lot of people abandoned kittens or pregnant cats because they had become too expensive or too much work to take care of. It was just that a lot of the kittens weren’t out to the available adoption areas because they needed medical testing, checkups, vaccines, and a lot of extra care. A lot of immediate human interaction paired with a weak immune system could be a threat to their health.
On the days that there weren’t kittens out, because they did get adopted very quickly, this boy would go see the puppies first. He seemed to be a cat lover, but he also seemed to like the younger animals, like most people. If there weren’t a lot, or they were playing with other people, he would find an older animal, whether that be a cat or dog, and spend the rest of his time with them. One thing you noticed was that it didn’t matter what he was doing with the pet. The pet could be ignoring him, too anxious or shy, (you noticed he always sat with the fearful ones), and he would simply sit with it and wait, offering treats, pets, and if they didn’t want to sit next to him, he would scroll on his phone and let them come to him. He seemed to have a special connection with the vulnerable pets, and you wondered what that said about him.
The biggest thing that you noticed about him was that he never smiled when he was coming in. He would wave, look up, nod, something like that, acknowledge the people at the front desk being there. Sometimes you were the one checking people in, but he never smiled. Not until he was sitting down with an animal in a short vicinity of him, and you noticed that he smiled the biggest when he was sitting on the floor with a pet in his lap. He never smiled when he was walking in, because sometimes you could see him getting out of his car, never as he was checking in, but he did as soon as he was with an animal, and he always left looking a lot lighter than when he came in. He always left the building smiling. 
He had come in for three weeks in a row before you ever said a word to him, and the first thing you said to him was a simple “Welcome back.” He snapped his head up at this, looking confused, as if he hadn’t realized that he had been perceived coming in so often. And maybe by most of the employees, he hadn’t been, but you made it a habit to notice people, even the people who looked like they didn’t want to be noticed. He gave you his usual nod, before moving towards the door to the Cat Cottages. Unfortunately, that day, the kittens had been moved to a different room so that the normal room could be deep cleaned, so you let your coworker cover the front desk and followed him, tapping him on the shoulder just as he reached the door to the cat rooms. He spun around, a seemingly shocked look on his face.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you! I just wanted you to know that the cats have been moved today.”
He looked confused, simply staring at you blankly. 
“Sorry. I was just telling you because you always go to the cats first, so I figured I would save you having to turn around.”
He was still blankly staring at you but this time he spoke.
“You noticed I always go to the cats first.” 
You nodded, listening.
“Yes. I do. You always come here first.” 
“I didn’t think you’d noticed. I mean, I notice you when I come in, but I always assumed that you saw so many people per day that you didn’t have time to notice anyone else.”
You smiled brightly at him, hoping to help him feel more comfortable.
“I always notice our regulars.”
“Do I qualify as a regular?” 
 “You show up on the same two days every week, always in the afternoon, for the past month and a half. I think that falls under regular territory. Now, would you like me to show you where the cats are today?” 
He broke a smile for the first time, the first time you’d ever seen him smile before getting to visit with the cats.
“Yes, please.”
As you walked down the hallway to the holding room that the cats were in today, you learned that the boy’s name was Matt, and he opened up a little bit to you. He told you that he came to visit with the animals because they help a lot with his anxiety.
“They really seem to bond with you. It seems like they really do love you. You have one of those souls.” 
He laughed, sitting down and smiling as a kitten stepped into his lap, pushing its head into his hands.
“You can tell what kind of soul I have?” 
“I don’t need to know you well to know that.”
As you motioned to the animals surrounding you both, you smiled at him, and he smiled right back up.
“Their judgment tells me everything I need to know.”
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ciematis · 3 days
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bloodhound starring yuuji itadori.
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content warning: no pronouns used, but reader is implied to be dfab.
reader is dealing with their period/pms.
roughhousing/fighting (they are training), scent kink, yuuji and reader are 18+, sukuna is here too yuuji. funky (very slight) mind-control/subtle influence aspects. perverted thoughts. reader is annoyed by everything. no penetration/sex. yuuji smells you ovulating lmao? begging (from yuuji). dry humping. idk i was just writing shit and the plot got outta hand.
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Yuuji’s changed since Sukuna came along.
Not something you acknowledged at first - of course, it would be within reason to anticipate some degree of pushback from the curse. A never before seen bond between human and … less-than-benevolent spirit was sure to have some stubborn aftereffects. It seems that little whisper of a king took care to extend his influence more permanently than you’d appreciate, frankly.
Yuuji’s senses have been unnaturally keen as of late. Not the ‘notice your new haircut’ kind of attentive - that natural knowledge that comes with closeness - but,
eerily observant. Sukuna’s cohabitation of Yuuji’s body seemed to have bolstered his olfactory systems in bizarre ways. Or maybe the curse had just gotten attached to the scent of your flesh.
Like when he noticed when you ran out of lavender shampoo, you started using citrus. Or when he shouted in front of ‘Gumi and Nobara about how you definitely changed your perfume. Weird shit. Mr. Paying-Too-Much-Attention just tried to brush it off.
If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was keeping tabs on you. He tried to be completely normal otherwise - even apologized about the perfume; though Megumi and Nobara ensure you never hear the end of it.
But he’s doing it again right now. In the lull of your training, he seems stunned for a moment; seemingly overtaken by the presence of something around him. When you ask ‘what?’, he responds with a question.
“Do you smell that?” He huffs the air like he’s starved for it, the genuine curiosity bouncing around in his eyes confounding more than it intrigued. His eyes are half-lid, dogged and low, like a bloodhound taking index of nearby quarries. He’s paused your flow, stopped your energy, and besides; “The only thing I can smell is you.” You scowl. You stand with your arms akimbo, lips subtly quirked in irritation. He looks gagged by that response, but keeps breathing deep; lids fluttering delicately to half-lids. 
 “Yuuji.” You go to cross your arms, glaring daggers. “Yuuji, c’mon, I need you to focus.” “Mmn." His nose wriggles; it's a little cute. "But it smells so good… You sure you didn’t bring food in here? I can’t focus with that- ah - smell.” He seems labored by it, but it’s not so strange for Yuuji to be incredibly dramatic about most things. “It smells like…mhn.” Failing to describe the scent, you rapidly find yourself disinterested in his little moment. But he’s insistent on having it.
He licks his lips til’ they shine under the fluorescent, fanged teeth poking from his upper lip as he makes a face. A brutal, not-quite-smile, then something else, reserved as he retained the barest hint of control. He looked feral, like a wolf twitching with pent up aggression, holding out for the fawn to tottle past.
You occasionally envied his inclination towards the eccentric- frankly freaky sometimes- but sadly, at present you lacked the patience. You’re not playing games this week, and definitely not today.
It feels like everything and everyone’s been pissing you off for like half the week. Nobody seems to be on the right timing - no, not even Nobara, who seems more to your speed even when you’re in a bad mood with the rest of them. Nothing happened (you think) to make you feel angry, this pent up, but you think the others have noticed and politely adjusted their behavior. Giving you more space during breaks, keeping conversations to polite banter and short chats, getting you snacks… 
Oh, now he’s starting to make you a little hungry. That’s what you think it is, that low simper in your belly as your vexation grows; tired of his antics. “Stop fucking around, man. I know this shit comes easy to you - or whatever - but I’m not letting you get me behind on training. Stand up.” The demand in your voice doesn’t seem to inspire motivation. Rather it just makes him annoyed, his brows now furrowed as he (bordering on obsessively) sniffs the air. Gets a whiff of something beautiful. Like blood pumping through veins, decadent, succulent, dripping, and raw. Rubs a bit of drool from his lips.
Sukuna’s been chittering in the time you weren’t. A faint locust buzz crescendos into airplanes flying overhead, a mantra tittering in the back of his head over and over again. 
It’s you. It’s you, It’s you, It’s you, It’s you.  Sukuna didn’t have to tell him that, really - he’s not that dumb - but forgive him for wanting to pretend like you’re not making him tent his sweatpants. He’s been smelling you all week - and after that argument with you and the gang on Tuesday, apparently nobody else noticed anything had changed. Granted, it’s not like he hates it; quite the contrary, actually… 
You smell too good. Like a forbidden delicacy; savory and not too sweet. Oh, if only he could get you on his tongue. The thought is as foreign as it is tantalizing. He’s quick to assume Sukuna has something to do with it - but when he’s still having those thoughts when Sukuna hasn’t spoken to him in days, he’d think it irresponsible to not take some accountability for it. He scowls to himself, glancing at you in his periphery as you practice your striking form.
(You dance through the air, the power in your thrust brought forth from the entirety of your body; each muscle, moving in perfect sync. The more you work yourself up - the stronger the scent of you gets. It’s like a pheromone, wafting irritatingly through the space, driving him fucking mad -)
“Your yearning is pathetic.” Yuuji’s mouth goes dry as Sukuna’s mouth splits open a space behind his ear; but you must not hear him - too busy slicing through nothing. “I’ve never understood playing with your food. If you’re strong enough to take the sorcerer - they’re yours to be had.” He reflexively goes to shut him up.
You’ve barely wanted to be near him all week. Or any of the gang, really. You’ve been acting differently, too. Quicker to anger and cutthroat, more territorial - less affectionate. You’re only training together because you pressed him for it, like you were dead set on showing him up. 
He thinks you’re doing fine. (Sukuna thinks it’s cute how hard you try).
You step too close and Yuuji’s head snaps to you on cue, and for a moment you think something’s wrong. He’s perched low down, searching you. Considering you, staring you up with that look. You recognize it - better suited to a battlefield and carnage - but it’s good to know he’s finally paying you attention. A full-minded, beady-eyed focus, as if you were a spirit in need of exorcism. He looks hungry for it.
You shuffle back reflexively, too wired to go down to some low-blow. “Oh? You ready to get back to it then?” You resume your offense, leaning into your stance as you watch Yuuji stagger to his legs almost drunkenly; and yet not taking his eyes off you. He balls his hands up into fists, feet shifting into position. “Yeah. I think m’ready. If you are.” His curtness is greatly appreciated, though you can’t help but quirk your brow at his change of pace. You squat lower, tighten your grip on your training weapon. 
You push in at the same time. The point of contact - his fist and your naginata - disappears in a  void of darkness. Tendrils of black jut out in all directions, and all you hear is the crrrr - ACK! of your wooden instrument;  split clean in two as the ‘sharp’ end goes flying and leaving you with the blunted shaft. He’s on top of you as soon as you recover, reaching forward with a quick jab you barely dodge.
The sweat runs off your forehead as you dart backwards, swiftly slamming the wooden handle down into his skull.  The naginata cracks into nothing. He is hardly winded. 
He reaches out for you and you dive to the side, throwing up your arm to shield your chest before Yuuji nearly caves it in.
“-shit!”
You’re gasping, nearly falling on your ass as the force of Yuuji’s kick knocks the air out of your lungs.
“- ah, fuck -”
There’s a feeling besides fear, there. A sudden shuddering in your limbs and a faintness in your head that makes you drop low to the ground, your legs wobbling ever so slightly, 
before they give, the blood rushing away from your head as a new pain blooms deep within your stomach. It joins the one in your chest, tormenting you. 
Yuuji’s on top of you when your vision returns from black (did you close your eyes? You hadn’t noticed), half concerned and half… well -
He’s got you pinned to the training mat below, weight audaciously pressing into your stomach as he plants himself firmly on top of you. There’s something hard down there, jabbing insistently into you that perplexes you for only a second; until his face tells you everything to know.
His gaze is hazy, like he’s coming off that high but not quite - got your arms pinned above your head even if he no longer needs to use that kind of force. His face is red, blushed from ear to ear, and your analysis is momentarily interrupted by his voice cutting through the silence. 
“Well, I won,” He huffs, rocking his hips a little. “Don’t I get a prize? Y’know - for winning?” He leans more to your level. You’re in no rush to buck him off - the pressure doesn’t feel that bad; actually.
"What?"
Your voice is breathy and incredulous when you fully come to.
“You want a fucking cookie or somethin’?” To your amusement, he nods excitedly. One of his hands leaves yours to slowly trail down your front. That focus still hadn’t lifted from him, his attention concentrated solely on the line he’s driving down your stomach.
“Yeah, something like that.” 
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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ JJK/BANNER ART by gege akutami
all content written by me @ciematis, is owned by me, and you are not allowed to repost or translate my works. don't put my shit into ai generators, don't steal my shit and put it on wattpad. thank you.
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handsometheo · 24 hours
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You've gotta hear me out on Ithaqua getting a little too possessive towards his survivor partner during a match ! Love your works btw <3
Mmmmmm Possessive Ithaqua 😍
Warnings: You'll never guess this one but Possessive behaviours
Pairing: Possessive! Ithaqua x Gn! Reader
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- He isn't sure what caused it. Maybe it's his own instincts telling him he needs to protect you, or maybe the manor is affecting him somehow..
- Your Team is quite possible the worst concotion of players to have paired with you. The Prospector, the cowboy and the "prisoner". He's semi-alright with Luca, he doesn't really do much harm. Its more a case of him being annoying to deal with on a good day.
- However Kevin and Norton strike Ithaqua the wrong way.
- He immediately finds Norton but instead turns his attention to finding you, just to make sure you stay away from them.
- He finds you. Quite easily actually. He comes across you helping Luca to decode who quickly runs off in favour of saving himself. Smart man, Ithaqua has to applaud him for using that mildly malfunctioning brain of his. He does have to break the connection, if only to delay your guaranteed escape.
- He lets you finish the cipher and simply stands around impatiently huffing and puffing to the side like a bratty child not getting enough attention. And that's accurate to a certain degree.
- once the cipher is done he tells you to go into a locker so he can pick you up and take you with him. You think nothing of it as this is fairly normal behaviour he likes to carry you around you've noticed. His little giggle when he picks you up just melted your heart.
- However. Unlike the usual routine, Ithaqua takes you to the nearest corner of the map and places you there before trapping you within his arms. His cloak making the two of you practically disappear, well.. you know as much as one can with the terror radius thing..
- His eyes are animalistic and his jaw clenched, but he makes no move to act on whatever violent act is forming in his head. Just pulls you to him as though he is trying to mesh with you.
- of course, he was mostly..., kind of, calm.
-Until the two idiots turned up. And by that I mean Norton and Kevin.
-Kevin lassoed you from Ithaqua's grasp, that alone made him screeched out in rage, but just to add some extra sourness to the situation, a magnet gets thrown towards him. Forcing him back into the wall.
- You struggle your way out of Kevins hold and push him away right as Ithaqua dashes at him. Norton quickly runs off to possibly hide in case he needs to really save, or possibly help Luca to continue saving.
- "IDIOTS, BOTH OF YOU!" You yell out to nobody in particular as Kevin had already run off. Ithaqua stays still for a moment, left eye twitching.
- He turns quickly. "Stay." He commands as though you are a dog awaiting your next trick. You're going to stay near, obviously, just maybe that Cipher off to the left will somehow get finished off...
- He dashes away in the direction Kevin left.
- As you're decoding, the prospector returns around the corner.
"Hey."
"Fuck off. That was stupid and you know it."
"Yeaaah.. but got the reaction I wanted. He's a tad bit, whats the word, protective? No. Possessive. Thats the one! Like he owns you."
"If he ever got asked if he owned me he definitely would answer like that.. It's a bit much at times, maybe next time to come running up to try and save when he's clearly not going to chair me. Luckily he seems to have lost Kevin."
The last Cipher gets completed by you and Norton but just before you can run to the exit, Norton says something that irks you.
"Geez, I didn't ask for your life story.. no need to keep going on..."
Yoou dont even initially intend to do it but you're hand reaches out to slam his head against the nearest wall to temporarily stun him.
"Not so fun now is it.."
In the distance a pissed off roar can be heard from Ithaqua, who you can assume just missed hitting the now escaped Kevin and Luca.
"Now, we're gonna surrender." You tell the prospector sternly
"Why would I do tha-"
You grab his ear and stare at him, "Consider it your apology to Itha. Believe me Kevin's going to deal with far worse."
Quiet grumbles are all that are heard from the disgruntled ex-miner.
----
Hope you enjoyed :) I partially forgot what I was writing halfway through but I loved writing this ♡
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dulcelem · 3 days
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Part 3
So, with both of them back in Anakt Garden, what else to do if not keep following him? It is important to remember that they are children, acting immaturely and having childish attitudes. There is little point in analyzing any alnst character with our vision of society. They hardly have any social or emotional awareness, they act on instinct, and Ivan's instinct is to want Till to look at him. In flashbacks and official artwork, Ivan does everything in his power to trick Till into paying attention to him. The fight over the flower crown is a great example.
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Till was giving him the attention he wanted, and Ivan was more than happy about it, because he couldn't tell the difference between bad attention and good attention. Nobody taught him this and he had difficulty understanding others. But, although I understand that the fights are more noticeable, it irritates me that that's all that is focused on by the majority. Yes, he deliberately instigated fights. Right. But he would also silently sit next to Till to watch him draw. He dedicated himself to freeing him every time he could. He would steal his things only to return them later to interact with him. He lay next to Till after he was beaten and locked up. He would lie down next to Till to admire the sky (looking at Till, of course) with him. He was the one playing with Till, not Mizi. Anything and everything to stay by his side—with him. No matter how you look at it, one irreducible fact is that Ivan was always, always there. One way or another, for better or worse: it was always him. He was the one next to Till. All this child wanted was to be close to Till.
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The difference...
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That is, until he realized the type of relationship MiziSua had. He was consumed by envy, because he and Till did not and would never have that; and loneliness, because Sua was different from him.
Suddenly, being close wasn't close enough. He wanted to be noticed and he wanted to be loved. Till is the person Ivan is intrigued by the most. He loves and admires him and he longed for an unlikely reciprocity of these feelings. Although he desperately wanted it, Ivan seemed hyperaware that not only was he unloved, he wasn't even looked at. Till not so much as deigned to look at him, oblivious to the pain, oblivious to the feelings, oblivious to how much he meant to Ivan. And Ivan hated that.
But, as time passed, it seems that this became something he learned to live with despite all the bitterness he must have felt. As is evident in Round6, their interactions diminished over time. Maybe that's the reason, maybe not. Ivan, stubbornly(like a dog following its true owner), remained close to him but, now, only when he needed it. Marjorietarily when he was unconscious, when he was on a collar. Even though the interactions were fewer, Ivan couldn't stay away from Till. Close, on his own twisted way. He didn't even show his gentleness. He didn't want to show his affection, only his agressive side and that's a key part of their relationship: Till never knew his kindness, and Ivan also didn't even show him.
Something that breaks my heart is the message he leaves Till before they part. I'll just leave it here, I don't need to say anything else.
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Part 2
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marvelstars · 17 hours
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So I was thinking about a post I saw a while ago and it made me realize that I believe it didn´t really occur to Anakin that Padme was too young as a 14 year old Queen because he was a 9 year old slave and already making adult decisions, like:
Sure, I will risk my life to give you the ship parts you need new friends.
I will sacrifice the pod I built with many sacrifices that I wanted to use to escape with my Mom once I got her and my slave chip out of her body with my self made slave chip detector.
I know exactly how to cheat on my owner, I have know him all my life actually and he loves gambling.
Sebulba, leave Jar Jar alone, you could kill me instead but then you would have to pay for me so go away.
I built a droid to help Mom around the house and I am also looking after grandma Jira here, fixing her things so the heat doesn´t get too much for her.
Do you need the droid army that is invading Naboo stopped? No problem, I will just destroy their main star chip and I didn´t even get out of place as Master Qui-Gon Sir asked me to.
Then Anakin became a padawan and was send to missions in which he had to use his lightsaber to get out of "negotiations"
So of course he defended Padme being a Queen at 14, to him her words about being happy for being relieved of so much responsibility sounded as if she thought she was doing a bad job with her planet, that´s why he told her he heard people were so pleased with her they wanted to keep her more time as their Queen. He thought she was selling herself short.
I believe the whole, "too young to be doing this" only beat Anakin in the face when he was send Ahsoka in the middle of a war zone.
I mean, he called her a "youngling" not even a padawan, he most definitely didn´t want to be training a 14 year old youngling in the middle of a war zone and he only accepted because he saw how sad Ahsoka looked when she thought he didn´t want her.
Ahsoka just had to invoke a little bit of tears and she already had him grapped around her little finger.
Anakin: Sure I am supposed to be your Jedi master and you should call me master but we are in the middle of a war zone, we both could die tomorrow, your situation sucks Snips and you are too young yet to notice it so of course you may call me skyguy to your heart content.
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He is actually worse with Luke, honestly, it didn´t matter to him his little boy already destroyed the death star in ANH and his Master was calling for his head because he could become a Jedi and try to kill both of them, to Vader he was just "a boy"
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In ESB Vader was at the parenting stage of thinking about Luke like, that´s my baby, nobody can touch him or his friends until I say so ok?
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So he can recognize when someone was too young to be send to war, slavery or fight his Sith Master and he was right most of the time, except when it´s about himself and his perfect Queen Padme, they were veteran kids just doing their jobs.
Love him honestly :D
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thebaconspider · 8 months
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oh... wilfre...
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shakingparadigm · 12 days
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this is random but one of my favorite ALNST joke OCs is a girl who had a massive crush on Ivan and was able to date him for a little while because he felt bored enough to accept her. what follows is the most excruciating insanity inducing half-relationship in existence (they lasted 3 weeks before she gave up trying to understand him)
#her name is saya!! saya ng#she had the biggest crush on ivan and when she asked him out he said yes in the most casual way ever that she thought he was joking#the whole time they're “together” she's nervously looking away and blushing while ivan's eyes are trained on that gray haired boyfail there#whenever she'd ask to do couple things with him like hold hands or eat together he'd comply for a little while#but then he'd say something important came up and that he had to leave#she understood because of course! he's a top student surely hes busy no worries#he always seemed to have a wall up. smile never faltering but never fully genuine either#he always looked at her like he was seeing past her and not like he was looking at her person#he was a good and charming conversationalist but even though she got to spend more time with him#it never really felt like a “relationship”. more like two people roleplaying the actions of a relationship#because ivan was so closed off#she started noticing till more all because ivan kept noticing him#and she noticed how he seemed to change when he noticed till. like tills presence was enough to rewire his brain#she quickly realized she was nobody next to him and broke it off#anyways she got sent home because she wasn't good enough to graduate (she wasn't particularly good at anything)#she watched all her friends (dotori/acorn#round 3 and 4 kids)#die on screen#and when she's sent to a different singing competition she loses and dies#her name saya ng combines to make the word sayang#which in my language means: a waste#okay. this was supposed to be funny but now that im saying it#it low-key sounds kind of diabolical#by the way this idea is inspired by the Patreon info about ivan#(he CANONICALLY would accept anyones confession if he was bored enough. V and Q said that theyd tire of ivan being so closed and mysterious)#imagine being in the “recovering from dating ivan” club#alnst#random
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tumtimetime · 4 months
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which would you prefer, a transformation that has you rapidly swelling up out of nowhere until you can hardly stand but doesn't go any further, or a slow but steady transformation that given enough time will leave you so big you can't do anything but lie on the ground and watch yourself swell even further?
rapid is good fun but im such a sucker for slow and steady... noticing after a few weeks maybe that my baggy clothes arent as loose as they used to be, brushing it off as bloating. a month or two and people are commenting that ive gained a little weight, but just laughing and saying it must just be the winter months and i'll work it off come summer. but no matter what i do it keeps coming, just a pound or so a day, juuust enough to know that it's happening but slow enough that i dont realize how big ive gotten. sure, it's a bit odd how often i'm buying new clothes, but i'm sure its just part of getting older. it's a lot harder to take the walk to the bus stop, and i sure am sweating so much more recently, but i'm sure its just a diet thing, or this new job thats keeping me behind a desk all day, and it'll even out soon. A pound a day doesn't sound that bad, does it? until one day i see a picture from two years ago and dont even recognize myself, slim and fit while now i'm creeping closer to 400lbs with every passing day. would i recognize my face without the round cheeks and extra chins that've grown in? would i be horrified at what had happened and panic, struggling against the inevitable as the pounds kept piling on, or would i embrace it, letting myself get bigger and bigger, just a little bit every day. how long before i can't reach the steering wheel in my car? before fitting through doorways is a nearly impossible task? before getting out of bed becomes a nightmare? before standing at all is impossible? how big can i even get? a pound a day is more than 250 a year, after all...
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dunno if i’ve posted this clip before or just thought about it often enough to create that uncertainty, but it sure comes to mind re: the subject of like, what function Jared’s Character serves in supporting the material. and michael greif as a key Understander in how getting the story across to the audience Works well enough for them to take that ride, see: transcribed excerpts from a podcast interview of will’s a few posts back
#not like oh people always forget to look to the director when it comes to thinking abt A Work lmao...#also funny like; you let levenson get in on this & he just won't stop humanizing your characters; then there's also the [working w/actors]#stage of things & he's like wuh oh gotta Get Good. gotta humanize them even more. girl help#and of course that Nobody's talking about like oh yeah jared's purpose? get off a Jokes Boy#even that final remark about Keeping Things In Perspective like ofc jared's noticeably Comedically interrupting peak Drama often#but it's not b/c like idk oh the audience wouldn't be able to Handle drama#but rather like. a) without breaks/shifts in pacing; more Intense / Elevated moments would just start to fall flatter#like that's the new baseline & it'd feel like Too Much in the way that it just doesn't come across as intense the way it's meant to anymore#& also b) jared is Directly Commenting on what just happened; so you now don't have to feel directly sold on that moment & you know like....#even if you did buy into it earnestly at the time; that's not the only relevant angle here; evan having to explain it to Someone Else and do#so After The Fact is also relevant. What Is True.#like yeah you can have jared go ''what the hell???'' abt things & have audiences take that ride but come away presuming jared is either#there to simply be The Funny One and/or The Mean One. but you remove that material of someone going What The Hell & it doesn't work as well#like michael g is saying there about Just When The Audience Is Feeling Very Cynical Abt What Evan's Up To; Jared Gets To State It#and that way we're all comfortable....if jared's not stating it; the shift from Cynical to Comfortable doesn't happen & ppl don't Notice#that it's due to not having that character who outright comments on it but then they're like well my cynicism had no payoff so evan's evil#and/or the material is positing that evan is epic but he sucks; so....not like you couldn't potentially consider that the material actually#is Not necessarily abt how everything evan does is good & awesome / figure out that a mess of motivations is deliberate anyways but.#deh#will roland#also tbt to will in Another podcast interview of [while still in deh] where he was theorizing that it must've been michael greif's decision#to cast Him; Specifically as jared. can't argue with that what with his [being in a position to do that] & Understander of what could work
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bravevolunteer · 11 months
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the only high school teacher michael ever got along with was his art teacher
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forlix · 4 months
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· . ˚ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞
— the little mannerisms you pick up from the members of stray kids over the course of your relationship.
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words・3.7k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / genres・fluff, humor, borderline crack, intentional lowercase, established relationship(s) / warnings・minsung’s are suggestive, touch of anxiety in felix's, jeongin's is lowkey gross LMFAO
a/n・massive shoutout to @/http.dwaekkii on tiktok for their edits about the boys' habits, which i consulted for chan, changbin, seungmin, and jeongin (and to @astraystayyh for beta reading hehe. what would i do without u). these were sooooo fun to write, hope u guys enjoy (。˃ ᵕ ˂ )
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chan + getting shy easily. poor thing gets embarrassed so quickly as it is. throw you into the mix and it’s just critical hit after critical hit. defense lowered. no health potions left. he folds like a lawn chair with a massive smile and a whiny “stooooop” every time you say something even remotely affectionate. the habit is adorable, and you love it to pieces.
but you like poking fun at it even more. “god forbid i find my literal underwear model of a boyfriend attractive,” you’d say, or something along those lines, which of course only triples his embarrassment and on more than one occasion results in him starfishing on your kitchen floor, his hood pulled over his face.
fast forward however many months. he’s still the worst compliment-receiver you know, but you discover one arbitrary afternoon that it’s rubbed off on you.
the two of you are cuddled together on the living room couch in your usual fashion, your legs thrown over his thighs and his hands tracing absently over your shins as you relay to him something you overheard on the subway. the conversation is painfully normal. you’re almost bored. you pause to take a breath, and he murmurs, out of nowhere, in the dreamiest tone: “so damn beautiful.”
“wha—huh? what is?”
“you. your voice, your face, everything. i‘m lucky.”
your expression of bewilderment persists for around ten seconds, and then slowly, so slowly, you begin to sandwich your head between your knees, balling yourself up like a spooked armadillo. chan wonders if he should call an ambulance.
“love?” no response. “what, uh, what’s happening right now, exactly?”
no response. no response. then, hoarsely, “you can’t...say shit like that…randomly.”
he notices two things after that. one, your skin is burning hot enough to fry something upon, and two, you’ve formed a fist in the fabric of his hoodie, which you only do when you’re pretending to be annoyed at him. the puzzle pieces fall into place, and he starts grinning like a madman.
“you’re…embarrassed?”
the guttural groan you emit is more than enough of an answer, and the cute aggression that overcomes chan is fucking debilitating. he wraps his arms around you and hauls you entirely off the couch and onto his lap, littering kisses over your face until it finally resigns into a matching smile. all intent to continue feigning grumpiness erased with the drop of a hat. you drape an arm over his neck.
“you’re so good to me, channie,” you sigh helplessly. “i love you.”
“love you more, baby.” he imprints these words directly upon your lips, then pulls away, giggles. “that was very me of you, by the way.”
“i know, right? i was just about to say.”
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minho + butt touching. it’s quite simple, really. if lee minho is within proximity of someone’s buttocks, he will, as he lives and breathes, make it known. will it be a coy little swat or a yelp-eliciting, full-bodied grab? nobody ever knows, not even him. the unpredictability is what makes it exciting.
but it takes a while before this starts applying to you, because the way minho touches you is…different. doting. there’s no other way to describe how he always holds the nape of your neck while kissing you, how he rests a hand against the small of your back whenever he leads you somewhere, how during the nights you can’t sleep he guides you to the place on his chest where he knows his heartbeat is loudest. he even drags you into his trademark headlocks the same way one would hold an invaluable treasure. he’s so obsessed with all of you that he never thinks to pay just your butt special attention (though it is, indeed, a special butt).
you take it into your own hands. literally.
you don’t know what prompts it—maybe you’ve simply seen minho slap his members’ asses one too many times, or maybe you’re still thinking of the specific time minho slapped changbin’s ass in passing and it fucking echoed, or maybe minho just looks especially fine in this practice outfit, a skintight tee and washed sweatpants that hug him in all the right places—but you feel a new urge today as your boyfriend swings his duffel over his shoulder, circles around the kitchen counter.
he puckers up as he nears you, silently requesting his goodbye; you give it to him, relishing for a moment in the familiar, soft plush of his lips beneath yours. then he pulls away and turns to leave, and your hand acquires its target.
“go get ‘em, tiger.” thwack!
minho jumps a foot into the air. clutches his pearls and his left butt cheek. becomes the splitting image of that perplexed blonde lady surrounded by geometry.
but when he turns around to stare at you, the smirk melting across his face betrays how he really feels about what you’ve just done. good. really good.
you, meanwhile, look genuinely confused. “it’s like it moved on its own.”
minho beams. steps towards you daintily, intentionally, like a cat catching sight of a laser beam. brings a hand to your hip, murmurs, “that’s what we’re doing now?” kisses you again, for longer this time.
you fully foresee his fingers wandering to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze, but you reach up to cuff his shoulder when it happens anyways, and his laugh vibrates against your mouth. it seems you’ll be reaping what you’ve sown from now on.
(good luck.)
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changbin + the Cackle™. yes, you said something exceptionally funny. yes, you expected changbin to find it funny too. but you couldn’t expect the godforsaken noise that left his mouth as he threw himself straight into the tree planter behind you.
your mind spun with frantic questions as you helped him out of the dirt. had the spirit of spongebob just usurped his vocal cords? were you on a date with the wicked witch of the west? most importantly—
“are you well?” you sputtered, which only made him laugh harder and his laugh so much crazier, so you started laughing, too. and you were goners, falling over each other until you’d been reduced to watery eyes and sore cheeks, your giggling interrupted only by the sound of you slapping his thigh every so often, heartily enough to reverberate around the little park in which you concluded your second date.
that’s how you fall for seo changbin: laughing. with a reckless, breathless abandon you didn’t think possible. stumbling across empty sidewalks, spitting noodles across dining tables, begging for mercy on studio couches. wrestling under tear-stained comforters, starting (and re-starting) silly stories, huffing into beaming kisses. the list goes on.
you never quite get used to that chortle of his, too busy enjoying its insanity to notice how your own chuckles grow shorter and shriller, how they gradually develop an edge like the chittering of a forest dweller.
you complete your transformation on your ninety-eighth date. 
no, changbin doesn’t say anything exceptionally funny. no, he doesn’t expect you to find it funny, either. he expects least of all for you to fold over the kitchen island and start cackling like cruella de vil on helium.
han turns around from his seat on the couch. chan’s footsteps come to a halt as he emerges from the bathroom. both of them have fear in their eyes as they witness your undoing.
the only thing on changbin’s face, though, is unfettered delight.
“b-baby,” he sputters with a growing smile. “are you—”
you lift your face off the marble surface and turn to face him. the entirety of your forehead and the point of your nose is covered in flour. you blow a cloud of the stuff out of your mouth like a dragon awoken from slumber.
he loses it.
the two of you make your way onto the floor in slow motion, ending in a tangled heap against the side of the counter. changbin tries to clean off the flour and smears it all over your cheeks instead. you are zero help whatsoever, smacking his bicep like that’ll help you catch your breath. your synchronized, diabolical laughter reaches every corner of the apartment. your happiness reaches every nerve ending.
chan and han look at each other, sigh. han takes a video.
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hyunjin + side-eyeing. this man is so god awful at controlling his face, bless him…and DAMN HIM.
on one hand, you love how in tune with his emotions he is, how confidently he puts them on display. and you love your synergy. you come closer to believing in soulmates every time you glance his way and discover your exact feelings written all over his features; it’s a special type of happiness, sharing a brain with your favorite person in the world.
on the other hand, you think there’s a time and place for candor, and he tends, well, not to think at all. during many a precarious situation, you’ll catch him wearing an expression so transparent that he might as well arrange the words THIS IS STUPID AND I HATE ALL OF YOU over his head in neon lights. cue a dig of your heel into his toe, a hiss of pain cut short by your piercing glare. if you’d known ahead of time that dating hwang hyunjin would have you doing so much damage control…you’d still date him, let’s be real. but you do get stressed at times.
the night the tables turn, you’re at a celebratory dinner for your coworker’s birthday. small caveat: you can’t stand her. she’s the type to spontaneously combust if she goes two minutes without talking about herself. certainly doesn’t help that she’s downing champagne like water, and her lips are looser than ever.
hyunjin comes with you, fortunately. or not. he spends the whole evening trying so hard not to laugh: snorting into his bread, excusing himself to “cough.” you think he actually starts doing breathing exercises at some point. you’re so, so grateful that he’s here, but you’re also deathly afraid that he’s gonna bring out those neon lights in front of your entire office.
then, she flirts with him.
from the opposite end of the table. perfectly wasted but still knowing perfectly well that he’s yours. the whole patio goes silent. hyunjin’s jaw hits the table.
your fork clatters to your plate.
FUCK time and place.
the side-eye you give her is devastating. truly masterful. your brow furrows. your eyes turn to slits. your gaze does the up-down-up of unadulterated incredulity. hyunjin recognizes the motions straightaway and starts smiling so hard his whole face hurts.
you take your boyfriend’s wrist and stand up. he follows suit. you don’t say a thing as you leave the restaurant, and you don’t have to. the intensity of your disdain was more than enough; anything more and she might’ve started crying.
once you’re on the curb outside, hyunjin pulls on your interlocked hands, brings you close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear. you hear laughter and his smirk in his voice.
“you’re so fucking sexy, holy shit.”
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jisung + how he applies lip balm. that han jisung is the pioneer of modern day babygirlism is the worst kept secret in the world. that han jisung applies lip balm the riveting way he does, however, is unknown even to you. until one morning.
you pop into the bathroom and make your usual beeline for your toothbrush, only to end up motionless in front of the sink, staring. jisung is a bit off to the side, hair pinned back by a cinnamoroll headband, eyes glued to his phone, hand holding a tube of chapstick that you can actually see getting shorter in real time. he looks so pensive, so concentrated. how long has it been since he last blinked? you’ve half a mind to pull out a stopwatch.
finally, he rubs his lips together, recaps the chapstick, and makes eye contact with you in the mirror. a smile crosses his face, equal parts confused and amused.
“baby, your mouth is open.”
you close it. then you open it again, and your words come out in a barely-contained laugh: “what on earth did you just do?”
“what do you mean?”
“the—” you point at his mouth, then do your best impression of an elementary schooler trying to color inside the lines. “—that.”
jisung looks aghast. “that was LIP BALM.”
“no, i know what it—you’re so—i meant, why do you apply it like that?”
jisung continues to look aghast. “like what?”
“like you’re one of socrates’ prized pupils and the answer to the universe’s formation lies at the bottom of—” you step in close, reach into the pocket of his sweatpants. “—this tube!”
it might be the craziest thing you’ve ever said to him. he bursts into laughter, the kind that leaves him no recollection of what he does with his limbs, and when he can see straight again he discovers he’s pressed you gently against the counter. his fingers latched around the hem of your top, his grin inches away from yours. can’t stay away from you to save his life, this one.
“do i actually?”
“yes! holy shit, it’s so cute.” your arms circle around his neck, also without an ounce of thought, also through a fit of giggles. “no way you’ve always done that, right?”
“i don’t know. i’ve never thought about it.” a pause. a tilt of his head, with purpose. “am i…doing it wrong?”
the question is a trap and you realize it too late. your gaze drops from his eyes to his lips—a ray of sunlight glistens off the pink plush like a paid actor—then back to his eyes. let’s find out.
you lean in. so does he. and his mouth tastes and feels like melted fucking sugar. it’s such a pleasant surprise that you actually moan, and he chuckles against you. lifts you onto the edge of the sink. your mind really goes empty after that, save for one thought. i have to start doing that.
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felix + checking his own pulse. you saw it from afar, the first time.
he stood by the stage’s entrance just before curtain up, pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of his neck. eyelids sealed closed, chest heaving. you tilted your head, puzzled. worried. then the concert began, and you pushed the image to the back of your mind.
it returned to the forefront right before bed.
“you do it when you’re nervous?”
“yeah. forces me to ground myself. turns off the world for a bit.” the hand rubbing circles into your back paused. “wanna give it a go?”
“what, checking my pulse?”
“mine.”
you lifted your head off the pillow. felix took your hand from where it sat upon his ribs, isolating two fingers and nestling them over his jugular. his quickened heartbeat pressed into your skin like the world’s gentlest tattoo.
the sixty seconds began and concluded in total silence.
“well?” he whispered.
“ninety-three,” you answered, lightheaded from the sheer intimacy of it all. “you’re nervous right now?”
“something like that,” he hummed. pulled you down, kissed you deeply. there were no more words exchanged that night.
the habit surfaced more than you knew. while driving to visit your parents. after a stupid argument with a bouquet of flowers tucked beneath his free arm. you started doing it for him in the times he couldn’t, and he’d cover your hand with his own and kiss the top of your head silently, gratefully.
two years have passed since, and you’ve vanished from the dinner table.
felix asks the nearest waiter for directions to the restrooms. you don’t notice when the door swings open, unmoving in your spot over the sink, your pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of your neck. 
his hand finds your hip. you let him turn you around and bring you to his chest; he glances at the crystalline droplets studding your lashes and falling from your cheeks. his eyes convey what his mouth doesn’t need to, not anymore.
let me.
you do.
his fingers replace yours the moment you drop them from under your jaw, the movement like clockwork. he counts your every heartbeat with unblinking concentration, his heart growing heavier the higher the number climbs.
the sixty seconds begin and conclude in total silence. 
“well?” you whisper.
“hundred and six,” he answers. to his confusion, a smile pulls at your lips. 
he wonders if it’s a trick of the bathroom lights when he sees the tiny box you pluck from your pocket, but there’s no mistaking the reality of the diamond ring that sits behind its open lid.
the earth slants under his feet.
“crazy.” you giggle through your tears, run your thumb over his cheekbone. “that’s how many years i want with you.”
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seungmin + poking eyes(?) he’s hardly touched puppym when your voice is slicing through the living room air like a fucking beyblade. 
“KIM SEUNGMIN, UNHAND HIM THIS INSTANT.”
do you have a sixth sense just for this? he throws his hands up in exasperation. “he’s literally me. i’m allowed to do whatever i want with me.”
“he’s not you, he’s our son.” you pop out of nowhere to swipe the plushie from over your boyfriend’s shoulder. “my son, if you keep this up.”
“just say you hate me and my preferred avenues of self expression.”
upside-down, he watches you dust off puppym’s face and smooch his forehead with a tenderness that makes seungmin unhappier than he lets on. you then tuck him into your jacket pocket. the little shit’s expression looks strangely smug poking out of its cotton capsule.
“i’m asking you to not gauge his eyes out, not to deliver me the holy grail,” you say. “you’ll survive.”
but then he feels your hands on either side of his face, and you lean over him like the mj to his peter, leave a kiss on the space between his eyes, too. he has zero say in the bashful smile this brings to his face.
“but why do you do that, seriously?” you mutter.
“i have no idea,” he replies. “but it’s fun. try it.”
“i’ll think about it.” you lean in again, and he nearly forgets what you were talking about in the first place when you kiss him on the lips this time. “okay, i’ve thought about it. no.”
“hate you,” he says despite the literal hearts in his eyes, and then you’re off to work.
puppym takes strikingly after his father. they have the same bangs. the same compulsively squeezable quality. the same little :3 that can only allude to sinister plottings. you’d be loath to admit that you sort of comprehend seungmin’s poking predisposition.
one night, seungmin falls asleep before you even finish your nighttime routine, and you spot in his peaceful, upturned face an opportunity.
you lie belly-down on your side of the bed. your fingers splay into a peace-sign in the air. your smile stretches further into a cheshire grin the closer you bring your hand. you’re just about to reach the ends of his eyelashes when—
“I KNEW IT!”
you almost catapult into the ceiling. then you try to make a mad dash for the bathroom. but seungmin shoots a hand around your wrist like he’s actually peter parker and pins you down before you so much as take a step. your only remaining option is to sulk about your foiled plans. (and blush, because, well, you’re under him.)
“amateur,” he tsks. “you gotta test my breathing to make sure i’m asleep first. shit’s foolproof.”
you blink at him for a few seconds. his words finally click.
now you almost catapult him into the ceiling.
“HOW MANY TIMES?”
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jeongin + eating food in one bite. so you might be an instigator.
“hwuck,” he grumbles around the whole ice cream cone in his mouth, face scrunched up in a brain-freeze-induced wince. “ayee ith waz a bah iyeah.” (translation: fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.)
“you got this. just take it slow,” you urge, except he’s stopped moving and speaking and closed his eyes as if he’s descending into a deep sleep. you’re actually concerned for about two seconds, and then his jaw begins to oscillate leisurely like an elderly cow in his favorite pasture. false alarm.
after some time, he swallows, beams. “so am i the fucking best or what.”
“yeah you are,” you echo, and he swings an arm over your shoulder, plants a chocolatey kiss on your temple. the two of you celebrate his daesangs with less enthusiasm.
“when are you doing that with me, by the way?”
“the one-bite thing?” he nods. “mmm, coaches don’t play.”
“mmm, this one will.”
“doubtful.”
fast forward a few weeks and you, jeongin, and his younger brother are sitting cross-legged on the porch in his backyard. three full-sized oranges rest in the center of your makeshift circle. damn is yoon hard to say no to. (runs in the family.)
“the rules!” he declares. “eat the orange whole! first to swallow it wins! you can’t spit it out!”
you wait. “is that it?”
“yes!”
why was the delivery so grand?
jeongin places a fond hand atop his brother’s head. “i’ve brought you a new loser, yoonie. get excited.”
you feign an indifferent scoff, but jeongin spots the fire that ignites behind your eyes like that of an anime protagonist, the resolute grip with which you palm your orange. he smirks. he’s never known you to take trash talk sitting down. or sitting cross-legged on his porch.
yoon counts you off. “ready…”
“good luck, coach,” jeongin sings.
“shut up, pipsqueak.”
“set…GO!”
in amusing unison, you and yoon try and fail to fasten your teeth around even half of the fruit. jeongin, meanwhile, fits the whole thing into his black hole of an oral cavity and launches into that dumb cow impression again.
desperate times call for desperate measures.
you rip the orange from your lips. “yoon! your brother’s ticklish, right?”
both yang siblings’ eyes widen—the younger’s in growing delight, the older’s in impending horror.
the latter reacts first. “ay, ay, ay, ah ahes eh ooles!” (translation: wait, wait, wait, that’s against the rules!)
but the former moves first, and you’re right behind him.
jeongin weakens when the younger boy assaults his sides, crumples when you target the back of his neck, the sounds leaving his mouth getting progressively louder and somehow even less intelligible.
he eventually has to spit out the orange to avoid death by pulp going down the wrong pipe and spins around in indignation, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand. but his annoyance—
you’re back on the floor, gnawing hopelessly at the the orange again. “ih ih eawahin, ooh.” (translation: this is embarrassing, yoon.)
yoon replies, “huh?” (translation: huh?)
—dissipates, immediately.
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© forlix (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!
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danveration · 3 months
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Sleep well, amour Pt. 2
Parings: Alastor x reader
Summary: After falling asleep to his voice, you wake up and get confronted by Alastor. Later, you walk in on him sleeping.
Word count: 1523
Warnings: Mention of Alastor eating and k*lling a deer
part one
A/N: PART TWO IS HERE!!! I had SO many options wracking my brain on where to take this, but I picked this one! I hope you all enjoy it :’) let me know if you have any feedback, I’d love to hear it. Also, I’m currently working on all the requests I got :) as well as part 2 to that-no-good-first-man-on-earth
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You wake up, blinking and looking around. Momentarily forgetting where you are.
Shit. You fell asleep in Alastor’s recording room. Thankfully, he isn’t here right now.
Before you could get up, you notice a purple blanket on you. It seems to be the one that was on his coat hanger. Did Alastor put this on you..? The thought has you smiling and your cheeks reddening.
Alastor’s voice sure does have an effect on you. You look outside to see what time it is, but remember that it’s Hell and the sky is always the same shade of red. You’re going to have to get used to that.
Getting up, you put the blanket back on the hanger and look around some more. It feels some-what intimate right now to be in his space when he’s not around. You wonder how long you’ve been asleep for.
You walk over to his table and notice a red “play” button on his radio equipment and are tempted to press it. It surely won’t cause any harm to hear what he was talking about when you were asleep. You press it and listen.
“Haha! For any sinner, I know it’s a tempting question. But I-“ The recording fast forwards. “Nevertheless, I find it quite amusing that this technology box thinks he is on any sort of level to me! Call me crazy but the sinners have been taaallkinggg, and they think he sounds quite obsessed.” He laughs, knowing Vox is probably listening.
You smile at his voice and find it funny how he is a bit of a drama queen when it comes to his radio broadcasts. You know deep down he doesn’t actually care about the whole situation with Vox, but it’s still funny how he entertains it.
Looking to your right, you see a mug that has “Oh Deer” written on it. There seems to be a bit of black coffee still left in the mug. The “deer” reference made you giggle. You’ve always wondered about his past and how exactly he is part deer anyhow. Oh well, It’ll reveal itself with time.
You’re looking at all the other buttons on his equipment, wondering what they do, when all of a sudden you hear light footsteps on the other side of the door. It’s most likely Alastor. Nobody would willingly go to his room without permission.
The door opens slowly and in steps Alastor. You notice how he opened the door quietly, to not make make much noise. As he still assumed you were asleep. You smiled at that.
He looks ahead and sees you, immediately smiling. “Ah! My dear. You’re awake!” He claps his hands together, his cane leaning on his side.
“Hey Al. Um.. about what happened I-“ You start.
“Ah, ah! No need to explain yourself, sweetheart! Don’t go giving yourself a headache.” He cuts in and laughs.
He looks down at you and says, “you just find comfort in my voice, don’t you?” He asks, with a smug smile.
Your eyes go wide and you stutter. Of course it wasn’t the most secretive thing. Still, you didn’t think he actually knew.
“U-um. Well..” You say.
He tilts his head to side as if saying, “Go on…”
There’s really no getting out of this. Plus, you don’t think Alastor would actually care. He’d probably just find it funny.
“Yeah, I do.” You admit. “I find comfort in your voice, of course I do! I just.. I don’t know.”
You aren’t sure what to say, it’s a tad embarrassing.
Alastor begins to laugh.
“I certainly could tell! I find it quite amusing if I do say so myself.” He says.
He definitely doesn’t mind it, he has a soft spot for you. But he’s also a bit confused on why you even do. He knows his radio voice is unique, but nobody ever commented on it bringing them comfort. They usually scream and run away when they hear him. You’ve been there long enough to see him kill and do so many things that people describe as “horrible, satanic, terrifying” but you still find comfort in him nevertheless? He thinks it’s absolutely adorable!
“Amusing?” You ask.
He nods and says, “Amusing, darling! I mean.. you know who I am, do you not?” He laughs and continues. “Though you still find comfort.. now that’s an interesting fact, don’t you think?”
You shy away, looking anywhere but him. You’re comfortable around him, of course, but you’re a tiny but embarrassed of this whole situation. You know he is definitely loving his though.
He places a finger on your jaw and guides your head back to look at him.
“Uh, uh, dear. There’s no need to feel shy! I never said it was a bad thing. I’m truly honoured!” He says, smiling down at you.
You and him have been getting to know each other for a while now and you’ve just been going deeply and deeply more interested in him. You almost laugh at yourself because you sometimes act as if you did when you alive, how you obsessed over fictional characters and “fan fiction.”
You look at him and say, “Well, that’s good then.” You chuckle.
“Mm, it is isn’t it?” He says.
He thinks you’re absolutely pathetic, but in a good way. He wouldn’t let anything hurt you, this new sensation is something he never wants to get rid of.
———————————————————————
Later that day, Charlie wanted you to pass a message on to Alastor about the hotel reservations. You knew he was in his room because he mentioned that if you needed him, he’d be in there having some dinner (aka, deer). Which he has in his half room half forest. You really wonder how on earth he even did that. The wonders of being a radio demon!
You’re at his door, lightly knocking. You wait a few seconds but you don’t hear anything from the other side.
“Al?” You question while knocking again.
“Hm.” You think.
You aren’t sure if you should go in or not. Sure, the thing Charlie told you about could wait but you also wanted to make sure he was okay. What if he.. choked or something? You’re sure the radio demon could handle that but you just want to make sure.
“Al, I’m coming in.. okay?” You say while knocking once more.
You slowly twist the knob and push the door open. Peaking in, you see him on the other side of the room, in a chair.
“Alastor, are you alr-“ You stop yourself when you notice his eyes are closed.
Closing the door behind you, you walk up to him.
He’s currently sitting in the chair, his arm on the table and his head resting on his hand. He looks so peaceful. His mouth isn’t smiling and his face just looks so.. relaxed. You’ve never saw him like this before. He mumbles occasionally and his ears twitch every so often as he sleeps. You aren’t sure how he finds this position comfortable, but you smile at it nonetheless.
You don’t want to disturb him so you leave, now relaxed that you know he’s okay.
Right before you grab the knob of the door, you hear, “Y/n?”
You whip your head back and you see him standing up, looking at you with his smile.
“Did you need something, dear?” He asks, as if he wasn’t just dead asleep a second ago.
Of course, it makes sense he is a light sleeper.
“O-oh, no. Charlie just wanted me to tell you that the renovations went well and that the guys who inspect the place will be here tomorrow!” You say. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”
“Ahh, alright! And nonsense! You couldn’t disturb me.” He says.
You look at him and smile.
“You know, you could join me if you want! I was just resting and then going to have some dinner.” He offers.
You perk up but then remember that Husk assigned you a task of picking up crates of whiskey for the bar.
“Shit, sorry. I can’t. I have to go get more alcohol for the bar.” You say with a frown.
“More? If I remember correctly, we just got new shipments in.. last week?” He says with a laugh. “Though I’m not surprised we ran out again. Husker is a busy man. Well, my dear. Some other time, then!”
You notice him looking back into the forest, eyeing a deer.
“Yeah, some other time.” You smile. “Have a good dinner, Alastor!”
He smiles back at you says, “Oh I will.” He chuckles, his radio eyes making an appearance as he looks back the deer.
“You have yourself a lovely day, sweetheart!” He says with a wave.
“You too!” Waving back, you then open the door and leave. Once you leave you hear shrieking on the other side of the door, definitely the deer that Al was eyeing.
You’re excited to have more encounters with him, and even take him up on the dinner offer! You remember him mentioning he wanted to introduce you to his friend, Rosie. You’re looking forward to it.
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kafkasmuses · 1 month
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divine figures — luke castellan + reader : nothing could steer luke off his path to god now, until you came along. 
tags : southern setting au, small town setting, loser!luke, idolization, christian religious references & imagery, religious inconsistencies, church sex, religious guilt, body worship, sex but poetic, cannibalistic imagery…………..
a/n : heavily inspired by the lovely @murdrdocs!! 
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luke castellan was never one to follow a religion, well, not at first he wasn’t. he thought it was all bullshit, to put your all into someone nobody is sure even exists, it’s bullshit. but then his mom began insisting that he went, that he needed to find god, they both did, so he went.   
luke lacked a father figure, so when he stared up at the statue perched at the apse of the church, he found the man he always lacked in his life, no matter how much the statue ignored his gaze, never bothering to look his way. he was quick to read the bible like it was a drug he just couldn’t get enough of, he sat straight with his eyes forward during each sermon, he kept himself pure. 
and he stuck true to that, until you came. 
he never really noticed you at first, but you were always there. 
always looking over your shoulder to his place in the pew, always smiling at him when he accidentally glances your way, always passing by his house on your bike on hot summer days in hopes of seeing him outside, shirtless and working on his mother’s car. 
you hadn’t mustered up the proper courage to speak to him, not until your parents have tugged you over to where he stood with his mother in the nave. your mother and father immediately sparked up conversation with his mother, leaving you to awkwardly look around the church in hopes of finding something worthy of speaking of. nothing, there was nothing. so you just mumbled out a, “hey.” 
he hesitates for a second, “hi.” 
“did you like the sermon?” your southern drawl, along with your sugar coated smile, luke can feel the thumping of his heart against his knit sweater. 
“‘course,” he smiles shyly, “i always do— um.. did you?” 
you nod at him, your ability to hold eye contact so well had him feeling nervous, constantly breaking it to glance around the room, “are you excited for easter?”
luke’s lips curve to a brighter smile, one that proves that he hopes that with jesus’ return, there will be a proper savior for him, his prayers will finally be listened to, maybe for once the statue on the wall will glance his way. 
jesus molded everything about luke, at this point, if he couldn’t believe in his father, jesus was going to take that place— and he did, luke was taught everything by the bible, all he ever relied on was the words of the lord, everything he ever did was a representation of what lied in those scriptures. he never worshipped another god, never said the lord’s name in vain, always remembered sabbath day, as well as honored his mother and… father. 
he didn’t commit adultery, in fact, he never spoke to women, really. his mother kept him sheltered, he was only allowed to speak to the women at church, not any of the women who rode on their bikes past his house, or smiled at him in the library. he just stared at them for a minute and looked away, contemplating how different things would be if he was able to speak to them. 
at the thought of women, luke’s mind races back to you, who is currently blinking at him and thinking he didn’t hear you. “i am excited— for easter, will you be at— the um.. the church that day?” 
another nod, then an awkward silence as you find nothing more to say, and neither does he. the church was a beautiful place, decorated with swirls of gold and dark wood, colorful stained glass windows that painted pictures of jesus, or virgin mary. if luke could move out of his home and live somewhere he genuinely enjoyed, it would be the church. 
there was something so comforting about it, maybe the faint music that played in the background, or the way it smelled of old books and floral perfumes, or the fact that it was just a place where so many people went to put their faith into someone. god was just so important, if luke didn’t know any better, he’d envy him. 
“you should come on sabbath days,” you interject his thoughts, leaning in to his vision. 
he blinks, eyes refocusing on your face, and he awkwardly chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “i thought they were for relaxation?” 
“and worship,” you correct, and he crystalizes the memory of how each word sounds on your tongue, how it flows out so well, how it makes him swallow. 
“right, right,” he wets his lips nervously, “i’ll just— ask my mom. mama?” 
as soon as he asks his mom, she’s all smiles at him, nodding and even shaking your hand, thanking you for urging him to go to church more. 
“i’ll see you there,” is the last thing you say to luke that day. 
˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
luke would be a liar to say he wasn’t riddled with visions of you in the darkest parts of the night, they started from the day you first spoke to him, and never left him since. he hated how much it plagued him, because it tempted him so well. it was like you were eve, offering him, adam, the apple. you reassure him that it’s sweet, that there’s no harm in taking a bite, and luke is parting his lips, ready to taste it, when he finally wakes up. 
the heat of the room is beating down on him, even in the cool of the night. his skin is sticky from sweat, and all he can ever think about is you. it should be a crime, really, how much you had consumed his every waking thought. for once, he wasn’t thinking of the bible verses he would be reading that day, what prayer he would be saying. 
luke didn’t know one thing about women, but the way you spoke to him, the way you smiled at him, the glints in your eyes, it had him wondering how he could make your face twist up in pleasure— fuck. he shouldn’t be thinking like this, it’s unholy, it’s weird, but he’s already in too deep. 
he’s already fed the memory of how pink your lips are, how soft they look, they probably feel the same. is it a sin to wonder how well you kiss? would you be all - consuming? or slow, sweet? luke doesn’t know why he prefers if you’d be hungry, if you’d bite and nip at him like you’re hungry, like he’s the last supper. 
his boxers feel tight on his skin, dick twitching in the confines of them. luke hardly knows this feeling well, he wasn’t one to allow himself to get hard, nor was he one to properly take care of it. but something about the idea of your teeth clashing against his when you kiss him, pushing your tongue into his mouth to taste him properly— it had his fingers pushing underneath the waistband of his underwear. 
when his fingertips graze his cock, he immediately shudders, lashes fluttering. every time luke touched himself, it felt like the first time, only now it felt.. better. better because he was thinking of you. luke had never watched porn, he hardly knows what it is, so the idea of what sex would be like is.. a gray area for him. 
but he works with what his mind is capable of, which is dry humping. the first setting that comes to mind is the church, which leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, but he goes with it. it comes to vividly, you on his lap, wet patch evident on his jeans from where your hips push down, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. when you moan, he does, when you whimper, he does, when you roll your hips, he does. 
everything was in sync, and it was all so sinful. masturbation itself wasn’t a sin, unless you thought of someone, and for the longest time, luke never thought of anyone, but you were a parasite he couldn’t shake, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted to. 
luke wonders how much the priest will judge him when he utters these thoughts, these events in the confessional tomorrow. he has only ever uttered small, pitiful confessions, i didn’t help my mom with dinner, i turned in a book to the library late, i forgot to pray. he’s never had to confess anything larger. 
heat bubbles in luke’s stomach, it’s pleasant, sweet, but it curls, and curls until it’s suffocating, until his wrist is hurting from the fast pumps of his cock, sweat glistening on his skin, cheeks flushed. he can feel a whine scratching up his throat, in the confines of his mind, something is screaming at him, telling him to stop, but it’s too late, he can barely hear it over the blood pumping in his ears. 
˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
when luke comes into the church the next day, it’s a saturday, a sabbath day. typically on these days, he would be spending his time lounging around his house, reading some piece of classical literature that he has hidden from his mother, wishing to keep the inked pictures of statues reeking of desire for one another a secret. 
but he was here, and so, he prayed. 
the sun had barely risen over the horizon (courtesy of daylight savings), yet the candles in the church were lit, leaving an orange hue to project around the empty room. 
luke felt gross, corrupt, unholy. 
for once, luke feels as though the statue above is glaring down on him, and he tries his best to not shrink into himself under the piercing gaze. he knows. his mouth is dry with each prayer, fingers sweaty around the rosary, but he wouldn’t allow himself to falter once more. 
as soon as he starts his fifth prayer, he hears the creak of the floorboards that he knows all too well, eyes fluttering open so he can look back to see who was there, hoping they hadn’t heard his last confessions in his prayers. 
you. his mind is tugged to a halt, every prayer he had rehearsed on his way to the church, completely forgotten. it was all just.. you. you seared on his skin, burned him until he was nothing but smoke. your gaze softens on him, a stark contrast to jesus’ pointed glares, “i didn’t think you’d come.” 
his voice is coarse from the nonstop prayers, “of course i would.” 
all he can think about is you underneath him, his own skin bitten and scratched, decorated in mulberry and deep pinks, he’s practically salivating at the idea. he wonders if, behind the confines of the church walls, would anyone hear you? would the priests dare to look for whoever is letting out such unholy noises? 
luke feels frozen the second he comes back to reality, dick hardening underneath the fabric beyond his control, his mind is tearing itself apart before he can even realize you’re speaking to him. 
“— wondering if you’d like to sit next to me tomorrow,” you pose, seemingly unaware of the bulge in luke’s pants that he is desperately trying to naturally cover with his hands. but you knew, you knew the effect you had on him, and he had the same effect on you. 
is it so cruel to only tease him harder? 
luke swallows the remaining saliva in his drying mouth, quickly moving to a stand, rosary bringing more attention to his covered crotch, “sure, yes— um.. i need to— go.” 
before you can even say anything, he is pushing past you, hand moving only to chastly grab your waist for a mere second as he passes, an instinct of trying to keep you stable, but it only makes a heat between your legs grow. 
desires go both ways, and it’s only a matter of time before they snap. 
˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
easter was once luke’s most anticipated day of the year, but now it was the day of his nightmares. he barely slept last night, kept himself awake with chores, prayers, and reading the bible until it made him sick. he couldn’t have another dream, he couldn’t let you get to him anymore. he thought it would be easy to avoid you today, but he was cursed with his own mistakes as you sat down next to him in the pew. 
the worst part wasn’t that you sat down next to it, it’s that his mind was riddled with disgusting thoughts as soon as he saw how your dress brushed up your thighs, it was so simple, such a small act, but it just made him think the worst possible things. 
you bent over the pew, the bottom of your dress tugged up to show your panties, his hands are gripping your hips like his life depends on it, crotch pressed to your clothed pussy from behind. 
luke blinks back with his cheeks hot, noticing the bible in your hands. when he speaks, he doesn’t even realize what he’s saying, it’s like he’s possessed, “what verse are you reading?” 
“luke 22:40,” you say it so simply, a smile barely teasing your lips. 
on reaching the place, 
he said to them, “pray that you 
will not fall into temptation.” 
the saliva on luke’s tongue is sour, near poisonous, his lips were stained maroon from the skin of the apple. luke 22:40 was the exact line he had been reciting to himself, luke was his name. the serpent was squeezing him tight, his breath felt swiped away from his lungs. 
luke is quiet for the rest of the evening, even through the sermon, when he should be smiling when everyone else is, clapping when everyone else is— he is just silent, blank - faced. 
you can’t decipher what he’s feeling until everyone has gone off to eat after the sermon, and he’s tugging you back into the pew once it’s vacant, fingers forming a tight grip around your wrist, “why are you doing this?” 
he’s out of breath, and no matter how tough he tries to seem, he sounds pathetic, his voice a near whimper, like he’s pleading with you. 
“doing what?” you blink up at him, doe eyes making his teeth press together. 
“you’re tempting me— this, this isn’t fair, why?” his breath is shaky when he exhales. 
“i’m not doing anything, luke.” 
“you’re making me think— making me imagine things.. sinful things.” 
“what exactly are you thinking?” your voice is softer, and the heat of the sun is seeping into the church. 
“i..” how can he explain himself? every image that he wants to communicate is all too disgusting, a mixture of hunger and desire, it seemed luke wanted you to eat him alive, “you know what i’m thinking.” 
“why don’t you show it to me?” 
absolution; 
formal release from guilt, 
obligation, or punishment. 
or.. 
an ecclesiastical declaration
of forgiveness of sins.
morals trickle down luke’s back when he kisses you, he knows it’s all wrong, he knows he could just leave it at a kiss, but he didn’t want to be haunted with these visions any longer, maybe if he made them a reality, they would just leave. he could be himself again, the picture - perfect religious boy he was always supposed to be. the kiss is small at first, the hesitant movement of lips, the adjusting to the feeling, but it quickly grows into something hungry. 
luke didn’t know how to properly kiss, so he just followed your lead, and soon enough, he was kissing you like a starving man. from tongues clashing, to his hand mindlessly moving to your hip, body pressing against yours, it was everything he saw in the pictures printed in those books he read. 
when luke falls back into his seat on the pew, you had pulled away from him, admiring how flushed his lips are. when your hand meets his jaw, luke forgets who his god is supposed to be, all he can think about is you, even on the day dedicated to the man he has spent all of his life worshiping. 
“please,” it’s barely even audible, only made out by the slight flick of his tongue from the l. 
“tell me what you want.” 
it felt like luke was sitting in the confessional, admitting all of his nastiest desires when his lips part, finally being able to say his thoughts out loud, “can you— ride me? or.. if you don’t want to— that’s okay.” does luke know what riding is? only from the overheard gossip of other men, but he was told it was something he had to try, when he got married, of course. 
“i want to,” it’s as if you aren’t in a church, as if nobody could just walk in and see how you’re moving onto his lap, moving his hands to your ass, letting his desperate fingers tug your dress up. his purity bracelet brushes against your skin when you move to guide his hands to your ass, watching the nervous look in his eyes when he squeezes the flesh. 
he has no idea what he’s doing, he just wants to please you, to make you feel as good as he made himself feel to the idea of you the other night. maybe, at this point, luke isn’t praying to jesus, maybe he never was, because you were always in the back of his mind. no matter how guilty it made him feel, how many times he had squeezed his tear - ridden eyes shut and wished he was different, wished he wasn’t so easy to fall for temptation. 
god is watching, is what his mind tells him, but your eyes tell him to keep going, watching as he moves his hands to unbuckle his belt, the sound of metal clinging being so improper for the walls ridden with crosses, but it just felt so right. he sucks in a sharp breath when he pulls out his dick, the cool air searing his delicate skin, pupils blown wide when they watch your lips slightly part at the sight. 
 “you’re so big,” is all you can manage out. 
luke’s lips twitch around a small smile, “is that a good thing?” 
“if it fits,” you move through a few twists to properly take your panties off, letting them hang off your ankle when you reposition yourself to have your entrance pressing against the tip of his dick, “then yes.” 
luke’s lips press together as soon as you start sinking down on him, you’re so slow with it it’s almost torturous. the holy water he had dipped his water in and pressed to his skin, was now scorching him with each inch that filled your velvet walls. when you reached the hilt, it was safe to say you felt stuffed, and luke was making more noise than you. 
whimpers, grunts, he tried to hide them all behind the confines of his lips, but they dug their nails into his throat and crawled their way up until it was impossible for him to hold them back. as soon as you began moving, luke was purely fighting for his life against the own noises leaving him to the point of where he had to sit up, pressing his lips to your neck, he was quick to press his lips against the sensitive areas, biting, sucking— he wasn’t even sure if he was doing it properly, but he was just so desperate. 
he wanted you to shatter him like fine porcelain, to snap off his glass parts and crush them underneath your fingers with pure ease, to deconstruct every inch of him that he had taken years to build. no matter how empty he would feel in the end, to put himself in your hands, like a lump of clay in the hands of a goddess, he trusted your instincts. 
“i want you to ruin me,” he mumbles against the flesh of your neck, barely audible. 
“what?” your voice is breathless between moans, walls tightening around his dick with each movement of your hips. 
he whimpers out a simple, “sorry.” 
you didn’t forget his words, though, in fact, you let your fingers run through his dark curls, tangling through them until you tugged him back from your neck, just so you can take his place, now the one pressing your lips to his neck. he felt small underneath you, but he didn’t hate it, he liked the way that your lips felt on his skin, enough for him to lean his head back to provide you more blank canvas. 
you painted him in maroons and mulberries, blooming rose petals on his skin, marking him as your own. no matter how much luke knew he would be praying for forgiveness tonight, in this moment, everything he’s ever stood for has fallen off his broad shoulders. his hair is messy and sticking to his sweaty forehead, skin peppered with bite marks, deep reds, purples, every color in between and beyond.
“‘m gonna—“ luke’s words come out choked, dick pulsing inside of you, “gonna cum—“ 
luke’s orgasm hits him hard enough to have tears pooling into his eyes, maybe it was the guilt, or the everlasting pleasure, he wasn’t entirely sure, how could he even be? all he could think of was you, now. 
“do you still believe in god?” you offer him once you’re off him and he’s putting his belt back on. 
he stares at you for a second, hesitating, then his lips part, “yes.” 
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prettyflyforawhitelie · 2 months
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Hazbin Hotel x Sick!Reader
A/N: Hey guys! I wanted to do some more x reader headcanons just because they’re so fun! I love the idea of the characters caring for you when you’re sick, it’s just so cute. I hope you enjoy it!
Pairing: Hazbin Hotel x Reader
Warnings: None (if you don't count tooth-rotting fluff) 
Characters: Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Lucifer
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🦌📻Alastor📻🦌:
Essentially hides you away in his room: wants more than anything to take care of you, but refuses to expose this “softer” side of him to anyone else. If anybody knew that you were the Radio Demon’s only weakness, not only would that put him in danger, but you as well.
Will prepare any food that your heart desires - his mother brought him up to be an excellent cook! His recommended feel-good food is his mother’s jambalaya, but you absolutely love when he makes etouffee!
If anybody dares to try and disturb your well-needed sleep, he broadcast their screams to remind them just why the hotel has a radio tower… 
Will suggest that you take advantage of the bayou-side of his room for the fresh air, but of course will not force you to do anything against your complete comfort.
The best thing that he knows to do is what his mother did to him whenever he was sick: Sit in bed with him and tell him Creole folk tales. They always enamored him, and just the fact that he was allowing you to see this personal side of him made you feel better. 
At the end of the day, Alastor would take advantage of the beautiful setting that the dark bayou side of his room provided and conjure up a lovely scene of fireflies, all while softly playing his piano and singing his favorite songs to guide you to sleep (You are the only person he will let hear his singing). While Alastor may seem heartless from afar, you wouldn’t trade this demon for all of the money in the world.
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🗝️😈Charlie😈🗝️:
Would definitely notice that you were sick before you did and insisted that you get plenty of bedrest. When you refused, insisting that you were ok, she would monitor you until you finally accepted that you were sick and let her take care of you. She would say, “I’m not saying I told you so, buuuuuut…”
Takes care of you to the point where some tasks of the hotel were neglected, but to be honest, it was a win-win for everyone in the hotel. She was happy that you were being taken care of, and everyone else was happy that they didn’t have to participate in trust exercises. 
She would crack open her book of the story of Hell - it always calms her down during an extermination, so hopefully it could calm you down as you try to sleep. 
If she absolutely had to leave the hotel to do/get something, she would most definitely buy a little keepsake and bring it back for you.
She would use her love for singing to lull you to sleep, singing sweet lullabies that her mother used to sing to her as a child.
You have to constantly remind her to take care of herself as well, as she will literally remain at your bedside, not caring to eat or sleep, until you get better. She often gets so caught up in caring for others that she forgets to care for herself! You tell her that it would genuinely make you feel better to see her taking care of herself as well.
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🪽⚔️Vaggie⚔️🪽:
Gets more defensive over you than usual, which honestly scares everyone. Nobody wants to so much as speak to you wrong in fear of Vaggie literally attacking them. Having Vaggie around is the definition of scary dog privileges. 
She’s honestly extremely dramatic when it comes to you getting sick, which may seem ridiculous, but think about it: she was thrown away by her “family” in heaven, and now you’re the only person that she truly has. You confide in her, you allow her to let her guard down. If she lost you, she doesn’t know how she could even exist. So whether you have a cold or something more serious, she will automatically jump to the worst conclusions and get worried as Hell.
As tough as she seems, Vaggie loves to cuddle. She will literally lay in bed with you all day, not caring if she gets sick as well. You’re the only person that she can be vulnerable with, and if you have to be in bed all day, you better bet she’ll be right there next to you. 
Her love language is absolutely telling you about all the things that she would do to defend you. She will go into immense detail about the things that she would do for you, and you will always listen in awe. She has been through so much, and this is the only way that she knows how to express her true love for you. 
The last thing she wants is for somebody to feel abandoned in their struggle like she did when she fell from Heaven, especially you. She will make sure that you know how much you are valued and loved, not just by her, but by everyone at the hotel.
When you’re finally ready to get out of bed and start participating in hotel duties again, she monitors you the whole time to make sure that you’re not over-exerting yourself.
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🕷️💖Angel Dust💖🕷️:
Is very upset and on edge - Valentino forces him to work everyday, no matter the circumstances, and not being at the hotel to care for you or at least watch over you makes him feel horrible. 
Basically forces you to sleep as much as you can, even better if it’s in his room so he can see that you’re okay immediately when he gets home.
Encourages you to cuddle with Fat Nuggets - he’s essentially a cute and cuddly heating pad. (He actually gives Fat Nuggets this adorable pep talk about how he needs to take good care of you while “dad” is at work)
He wholeheartedly believes in the power of comedy, so he essentially treats your bedrest as a stand-up comedy show for him to perform in order to make you laugh. He’ll tell stupid jokes, put together horrible dances, or even just hide in places and scare you in hopes that making you laugh will help you forget how bad you feel. 
Loves talking to you after work. You’re essentially the only person that he takes off his hypersexual mask around, and he knows that he can be himself around you, that you would never judge him. So, sometimes he will get home to find you already asleep and get in bed with you, holding you tight, whispering all of the things that he wanted to tell you about today, hoping that at least some of his words wiggle their way into your dreams. 
Loves sappy rom com movies and will 100% force you to watch them with him. He claims it’s because the “good vibes” of the romance will make you feel better, but to be honest, he just wants someone to watch his dumb movies with.
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♦️🥃Husk🥃♥️:
Will blame himself for your sickness, claiming that he shouldn’t have let you drink so much over the past couple of days (He literally cannot comprehend the idea that people can be sick NOT from being hungover lol).
When you insist that it’s not his fault, he’ll ease up. He’ll use some of his bartending skills to make some sort of juice mocktail for you and will definitely sneak in some vitamin C to heal you faster.
Everyone - specifically Angel - will wonder why the fuck the bar hasn’t been stocked in days (It’s because Husk has been chilling in bed/taking care of you nonstop).
This is the only time that he will completely surrender to the idea of being one big stuffed animal to cuddle with. I mean, he’s warm, soft, and he purrs! What’s more therapeutic than that?
This is also a great time to get uninterrupted talking time with Husk. He’s a great listener, so you’ve always opened up to him, but it took him a while to open up to you too. He had told you that you were one of the only people that he trusted enough to confide in, but always seemed to air on the side of caution when sharing his personal struggles because it always seemed that someone would just pop up at the bar asking for a drink whenever it happened. This was one of the few times that the two of you could be completely open and vulnerable with each other without the risk of outside judgment. 
Given the fact that he was such a gambler, Husk has a knack for all sorts of card games. If you get too bored, just give him a deck of cards and the possibilities for entertainment are endless. Want him to teach you how to play poker or rummy? Done. Want him to embarrass himself while he tries to relearn some card tricks that he used to flaunt? Done and done.
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🐍⚙️Sir Pentious⚙️🐍:
The second you told him you were sick, he would waste no time in finding one of his many inventions that could help you in some way. He definitely has some complex medical screening device hidden somewhere that he could use… he just has to remember where he put it. 
If you complain about being sore, he will insist that you snuggle up next to him. Because he’s a cold-blooded reptile, his body is one big ice pack! On the other end, if you feel yourself coming down with some feverish chills, he has you covered! His bedroom ceiling is essentially one huge heat lamp, so feel free to chill under there, too!
Has assigned himself as your personal nurse and will provide anything that your heart desires. If it for some reason cannot be found within the hotel, he will travel to any ring of Hell necessary to make sure that you are well taken care of. This man is DETERMINED.
You can tell that he’s taking this seriously because he actually neglects his “evil duties” for a couple of days. The airship isn’t even mentioned until you heal (unless, of course, you feel that taking a ride on the airship would make you feel better. Then, of course he will set it up for you!).
Despite literally voicing his complete and utter devotion to your every flight of fancy, this man is still as awkward as ever. He will still struggle to ask you if you want to cuddle, quite literally fluttering around the subject until you bring it up for him. 
At the end of the day, though, Sir Pentious is probably the sweetest sinner you could’ve ended up with as your caretaker. He may be awkward, but boy, does he love you!
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👹👼Lucifer👼👹:
While you are resting in bed, he will conjure up the most delightful images of anything you request (his favorite, though, is a group of ducklings waddling through a golden lake together 🫶)
Being the King of Hell, he has so many interesting stories to tell you if you’re willing to listen. He will gladly tell you stories as you lay in bed with him, slowly lulling you to sleep. (His daughter clearly got her love of storytelling from him).
He loves that you trust him enough to let him take care of you - he doesn’t often have people around, let alone people that he truly loves. Just your presence in his room truly fills him with so much joy.
He didn’t want to annoy you with his ramblings about his many rubber ducks so he was ecstatic when you asked him to give you a tour of all of them. This man was telling you each and every duck’s name, backstory, etc. and honestly, it was adorable. When he quickly glazed over one of the ducks anxiously, you asked why. He then shyly revealed that it was, in fact, a rubber duck that looked just like you. 
His love language is definitely gift-giving. This rubber duck would lead to him showing the many, MANY gifts he has created for you in his free time. He always has a ton of downtime, so making gifts for people is his favorite hobby. These gifts include, but aren’t limited to: various duck items, binded storybooks, music boxes, paintings, etc. This man is TALENTED, to say the least. He just hopes that looking at these will distract you enough from being sick. 
Also, his room is by far the comfiest to sleep in while you’re sick… the mood lighting that is naturally provided from his glowing light shows is simply unmatched.
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a-hazbin-reader · 2 months
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Gods I just have the funniest idea ever!
Can you do where Alastor will just do the most demonic, cannibalistic and brutal things ever (that even Lucifer was convinced that this mf CANNOT be redeem) but wifey was just sighing, heart eyes and goes 'isn't he the most adorable 🥰'
YES-
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
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TW: Murder, Cannibalism
Description: ☝️⬆️
A lot of people tend to forget that you're ALSO in hell for a reason, assuming you to be Alastor's loving wife and not thinking beyond that
They forget that you love all of your husband, even his twisted side that scares everyone else
Maybe they somehow missed the days you tenderly wiped blood of his face after a particularly large meal of demons who got in his way
"You really should be more mindful of the mess you're making, hiding this lovely face with all this blood."
"Apologies, darling~"
Or the way you would sigh happily whenever the radio static in his voice would intensify due to anger
"He's so cute when he's angry~"
They were probably too busy staring at his humongous demon form to notice how you practically swooned and got weak in the knees at the sight
"Oh honey~ In public~?"
Nobody except Husker, who has been with you two long enough to know just how fucked up you are
Somehow, nobody at the hotel seems to notice any of these signs until Husk points it out to them
"How did that creepy fucker even pull Y/N anyways? There's no way that bitch is actually into his mess!"
Charlie is trying to shut Angel up before either you or your husband hear him, Vaggie nodding in agreement with Angel
Until Husk slams back a shot and points you, innocently reading and sitting in Alastor's lap
"What the fuck? Have any of you actually been using your eyes!? She fucking loves the shit he pulls!"
Everyone's whips their heads around to look at you in surprise, you only laugh and play with the ends of your husband's hair
Alastor's head does a full turn as he gives them a smug grin as he accepts a small kiss on the cheek from you
"What can I say? I'm just irresistible~"
They all start to pay closs attention to your relationship with Alastor after that, especially when he being particularly monstrous
And of course, Husk was fucking right
Alastor is squeezing some guy to death with a tentacle? You're fanning yourself from the balcony with your hand
"Isn't he just the most handsome man you've ever seen? Is it hot out here? I feel like it's hot out here..!"
"...sure, doll..."
You miss the way Angel scoots away from you and hides behind Vaggie
He's dangling another poor soul over his mouth and cackling at that sound of their terror? Suddenly, everyone sees the kiss you blow his way and the wink he gives you
"Remember to chew, darling~! I don't want you to get a stomachache from that lowlife!"
"Darling, you're embarrassing me..!"
Charlie is torn between being horrified and thinking that you two are the cutest couple ever
Alastor decapitates the next one and brings you the head as a gift? You're blushing and holding it like he just gave you a precious bouquet of flowers
"Oh, Alastor, aren't you just the most man romantic in hell~"
"I thought you might enjoy it~"
He looks so pleased with himself, leaning in to accept a gracious kiss on the cheek from his beloved wife
Vaggie is just so visibly shocked, looking at Husk in disbelief, the bartender simply rolling his eyes
"I told you, she's just as fucked up in the head as he is."
They all watch in shock as Alastor picks you up and carries you inside, the sound of your delighted giggling haunting them
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Enjoy~
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spicyhamsamson · 1 year
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I am. So fucking tired of Batman being portrayed as a bad parent and a toxic person. And it’s so goddamn widespread. Fuck, it might be as bad as the whole “Superman being a kindhearted Boy Scout is boring” take.
I get it, the man’s not exactly stable, he watched his parents get murdered in front of him and spent years of his life training to fight crime dressed like a giant scary bat, of course he’s not perfect.
But to say that Bruce Wayne isn’t caring, isn’t empathetic, to call him abusive…it just misses the point of who the character is to me.
Why do you think he fights crime? Yes, part of it is because he’s bitter and sad because his parents were cruelly ripped from him as a child, and he’s lashing out against the corruption of his city. It’s arguably the focus of his earlier years. But he learns to become more than that. He learns to bring hope, a chance to be better.
Harleen Quinzel is the Joker’s right hand lady, but she’s also a victim of an abusive relationship and a woman with a surprisingly strong moral compass and a love for animals, and wants to get better. That’s why we see time and time again that he has a noticeable soft spot for her, because he knows that she’s a good person at her core.
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Harvey Dent is a man who will decide someone’s fate on a coin toss(and a pretty inaccurate depiction of DID), but he’s also Bruce’s close friend who clearly needs help learning to live with his condition, rather than try to get rid of it, and someone who he still goes out of his way to visit, even after everything, because he recognizes he’s not just a criminal with a weird gimmick, he’s a man who is struggling with a condition that he’s mishandled his whole life.
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Victor Fries is a cold, emotionless man who will callously discard allies and blame them for being careless, but he’s also a man who’s either lashing out because he had the love of his life taken from him, or just desperate to make sure she isn’t taken from him, and is willing to do anything just to guarantee her survival. Of course Batman would understand, his whole life was defined by having people he loved taken away from him.
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Even the Joker, arguably one of the most morally bankrupt characters in all of fiction, is someone that Batman has offered a chance to. After the guy shoots the daughter of his friend, a girl he cared for like she was his own kid, and paralyzes her from the waist down, he tells the Joker that he doesn’t want to hurt him. He wants to get him help. He looks at this monster who has taken countless lives and says “You don’t have to be alone.”
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For fuck’s sake, he sat with Joe Chill in his last moments so that he wouldn’t be alone. Joe Chill, the man who murdered his parents, who took so much from him, the person responsible for all of the misery and suffering he’s gone through. And he sits with the man to comfort him while dies. Do you know how much emotional intelligence and maturity that must take? To comfort someone who arguably ruined your life?
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And you’re gonna tell me the man who did that would abuse his kids?
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That he’d hold up the young man whose death was his greatest failure, the boy he grieved, and say this?
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That he’d look his goddamn son in the eyes and say this to him?
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Why the FUCK do you think he took in Dick Grayson in the first place? It wasn’t because he saw the kid and thought “Ah. A potential soldier.”, it was because he saw a boy experiencing the same heartbreaking loss he had so many years ago, and wanted to make sure he didn’t end up as bitter and miserable as he was.
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Why do you think he smiled when Tim Drake presented him a broken watch for Father’s Day? Because he was just happy to see the boy alive and safe.
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DAMIAN LITERALLY POINTED AT A COW AND SAID “I’m keeping her. She’s Bat-Cow.” AND BRUCE JUST WENT WITH IT. DIDN’T EVEN NEED TO ARGUE WHY BRUCE SHOULD LET HIM KEEP HER. HE SAID “this cow is my pet now” AND BRUCE SAID “aight, bet”.
The thing about Batman is that he wants to make sure nobody else ends up feeling the way he does. That’s not just about stopping a mugger so a boy’s parents aren’t gunned down. It’s about giving his loved ones the support and care that he couldn’t have, because it was taken from him. It’s about comforting someone who just went through a traumatic experience and letting them know that they’re going to be okay. It’s about going to someone locked away in a cell who thinks that they’re a lost cause and a burden to society and telling them that he wants to help them get better. It’s about EMPATHY and COMPASSION.
That’s what makes him a HERO. He’s meant to inspire us, to show us that we can have that same empathy for others around us, that we can turn our suffering into hope for a better future.
I just wish more people at DC would start recognizing that. But I might as well follow that example myself. Maybe through this struggle of having to see this hero mistreat the people around him and act like a grade-A jackass, people will start to recognize that missing compassion, and slowly but surely, it might come back. After all, what is this post, if not trying to bring attention to the matter in the hopes of fixing it?
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