#but it makes total sense to me that one of the only humans to know vampires exist

[cannibalspicnic]

What cracks me up about Don't Be Afraid, Just Start the Tape is that aside from the vampirism, Daniel's just having such a typical cocaine experience.

He goes home with a guy because he has coke, then ends up listening to the guy rant and bitch about his ex until dawn, then witnesses an implosion between the guy and his current partner, then is forced to answer the question, "Am I boring?" from said partner while trying to figure out the best way to leave.

This is just a regular night on cocaine.

[gingerbreadmonsters]

its so important to me that you know how much ive already cried over this wip and its literally only been two days

[headspace-hotel]

but seriously i think learning about nature is Hard for many people, especially adults, because you have to rationalize the symbiotic experience youre having next to the contemptuous and abusive way we treat the land. I think USAmericans fear nature as a way of making sense of the fact that we're waging war against nature, with our lawns and our suburbs and our landscaping and our cosmetic use of pesticides.

There was a post on facebook my mom was showing me where someone found a salamander and was asking what it was. thankfully half the comments were like "that's a SALAMANDER they are SPECIAL and a BLESSING and you must PROTECT it"

but the other half were things like..."I don't know, but I think it's time to move" "Burn the house down" "Kill it with fire" "I would scream if i saw that"

this is why i have such specific preferences in horror fiction that nothing seems to really hit: for me, horror is not about bad things happening, horror is about fear. So occasionally I find these really satisfying stories that are about fear of the unknown thing and the experience of fear, but the unknown thing being harmless is generally seen as a "twist" rather than a perfectly sensible and satisfying outcome.

on the face of it: why would you be afraid of a tiny creature weighing only grams, whose body is so delicate and frail? it's heartbreaking, but it's not unexplainable. What kind of a childhood makes someone an adult who is totally unprepared to comprehend the idea of something both unexpected and good?

a bizarre universe to try and place myself in, where a salamander is more likely to be...what? a mutated fetus of a brain-sucking alien? rather than one among the thousands of gentle creatures that you can marvel at, forever, for free.

It's the same way with bugs: people argue with the simple fact that nearly all insects cannot harm you, and I think it's because it's so difficult to reconcile with how liberally and carelessly we use insecticides with proven harms to humans and pets, and how we treat and speak about these creatures in general. If that weird bug almost certainly would not have harmed you, that means you killed a living thing because you didn't understand it, and that's a troubling thought.

[steveyockey]

To be aware you might be trans but unwilling to do anything about it is to create endlessly bigger boxes within which to contain yourself. When you are a child, that box might encompass only yourself and your parents. By the time you are a gainfully employed adult, that box will contain multitudes, and the thought of disrupting it will grow ever more unthinkable. So you cease to think of yourself as a person on some level; you think not of what you want but what everybody expects from you. You do your best not to make waves, and you apologize, if only implicitly, for existing. You stop being real and start being a construct, and eventually, you decide the construct is just who you are, and you swaddle yourself up in it, and maybe you die there. There is still time until there isn’t.

This reading of TV Glow’s deliberately anticlimactic, noncathartic ending cuts against the transition narrative you typically see in movies and TV, in which a trans person self-accepts, transitions, and lives a happier life. Owen gets trapped in a space where he knows what he must do to live an authentic life but simply refuses to take those steps because, well, burying yourself alive is a terrifying thing to do. The transition narrative posits a trans existence as, effectively, a binary switch between “man” and “woman” that gets flipped one way or another, but to make our lives so binary is to miss how trans existences possess an inherent liminality.

Humans’ lives unfold in a constant state of becoming until death, but trans people are uniquely keyed in to what this means thanks to the simple fact of our identities. You can get lost in that liminality, too, forever trapped in a midnight realm of your own making, stuck between what you believe is true (I am a nice man with a good family and a good job, and I love my life) and what you know, deep in your most terrified heart of hearts, is real (I am a girl suffocating in a box).

And yet if you want to read the film as being about the dangerous allure of nostalgia, you’re not wrong. I Saw the TV Glow totally supports that interpretation, too! But in tempting you with that reading, the film creates a trap for cis viewers that will be all too familiar to trans viewers. Somewhere in the middle of Maddy’s story about The Pink Opaque being real, you will make a choice between “This kid has lost it!” and “No. Go with her, Owen,” and in asking you to make that choice, TV Glow is simulating the act of self-accepting a trans identity.

See, the grimmer read of the film’s ending truly is a nihilistic one. It leaves no hope, no potential for growth, no exit. Yet you must actively choose to read that ending as nihilistic. If you are cis and the end of I Saw the TV Glow left you with a gnawing sense of dissatisfaction, a weird but hard-to-pin-down feeling that something had broken, and a melancholy bordering on horror — congratulations, this movie gave you contact-high gender dysphoria.

In an infinite number of possible universes, there is at least one where I am still living “as a man,” embracing my fictionality, avoiding looking at how much more raw and real I feel when I “pretend” to be a woman. I think about that guy sometimes. I hope he’s okay.

Consider, then, my cis reader, that TV Glow is for both you and me, but it is maybe most of all for him. I hope he sees it. I hope he breaks down crying in the bathroom afterward. I hope he, after so many years locked inside himself, hears the promise of more life through the hiss of TV static.

Emily St. James, “I Saw the TV Glow’s Ending Is Full of Hope, If You Want It to Be,” Vulture. June 4, 2024.

[aeyumicore]

misty invasion - omnipotent perception

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: rafayel x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with some plot, porn with feelings, angst with comfort

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 6.5k (who’s surprised)

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, slight spoilers and alterations to ‘omnipotent perception (rafayel’s misty invasion card), slightly toxic relationship, m!receiving handjob, bathtub sex, pulling out, cummies in hair/face, lots of making out, hickeys, HEAVY references to rafayel’s lore (sea god and some abysswalker), references to rafayel’s 4* memory fragrant dream, so much angst (with comfort), soooo much feelings, sensory deprivation, sensory play, blindfolding, switch!raf, desperate rafayel, kinda withholding rafayel, clothes on in tub, p in v seggs, use of y/n, use of pet names

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: video | ao3 | xav's version | sylus's version | zayne's version

━ ✧.˖ A/N: RAF IS HERE! sooooo this one is a long one. each one of my misty invasions got longer and longer, i am a menace to myself. but this one made sense, i felt as if raf’s misty invasion had the most lore subtly stitched into it and you guys know i always try and explore some angst/lore <3 i am very happy and excited to finally close out the misty invasion series. 

i’m going to be taking a much needed break after this. i’ll likely still be writing, but slowly and in my own time. I had a brief period of motivation, after the clarity of sharing my story, but now i am back to being anxious and exhausted.

that being said, please do not send anyone hate in my name or in my defense. I have never and will never ask for that. it’s enough that i have your support, i don’t need more than that. 

special thank you to my friend @myusuchaa for helping me SO much with the rafayel lore. definitely the biggest fish forker i know <3

as always, if i missed any warnings or used too specific physical descriptors, let me know and i can do better! thank you guys for your support. i love you!

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

“Do you feel lonely in this world that is totally different from yours?”

—

It’d been a beautiful summer day, riding bicycles along the Italian coast of Verona. Rafayel had just finished his piece for an art exhibition in the capital of the picturesque city, and you’d had time to soak in the summer breeze with each other. The air was wonderfully salty, just enough to remind you of the sea itself. Of Rafayel. 

It hadn’t truly surprised you when you’d found out Rafayel had lived here before, especially now knowing his Lemurian roots. Something about the way he walked through the Veronian brick paved roads, the rustic wind tousling his beachy waves, the cloudy sun shining on his effervescent skin. Like he’d belonged here, once upon a time. 

It was the perfect day.

Even when you’d teased him about the Lemurian who’d dissipated into sea foam for a mere human, and Rafayel’s expression misted over with a melancholic nostalgia. When his eyes glazed over with a torrent of inexplicable emotions, he could tell you wanted to prod him about it. But you didn’t, and for that he was incredibly grateful. There was a part of him that longed for you to know, to remember, the truth of that story. But he couldn’t trust you with that part of him again. Not yet. 

Even then, it was a perfect day. The two of you in Verona, the city of Romeo and Juliet. 

Two ill-fated lovers. 

It was perfect, he was perfect. 

Until you asked him that question. 

“Do you feel lonely in this world that is totally different from yours?”

Suddenly, Rafayel couldn’t look you in the eyes. Even when the rain droplets had started to patter onto your sun kissed skin, Rafayel holding you close under his favorite cardigan to shelter you from the onslaught of crystalline water. He couldn’t look at you. He refused to look at you.

If he did, you might’ve seen the tumultuous storm flickering in his eyes. The violets in his irises bright with unshed tears, the blues dark with a bitter loneliness. 

He didn’t speak to you the entire way back to your hotel, heading straight to the bathroom. At first you think that perhaps he’s upset with you, but he only draws you a warm bath in the luxurious clawfoot tub overlooking the Italian night lights. 

When he finally does speak to you, peeling off his layers of soaked clothing, you can tell he’s masking his true emotions under a facade of classic Rafayel sarcasm. Joking about whether he should write a Lemurian handbook for you or just read you 1,001 Lemurian stories. But he surprises you when his voice cracks with a raw genuineness, one that’s masked under layers and layers of hesitancy and loneliness. You can’t quite understand it.

“You can be my caretaker. And I can tell you 1,001 stories,” he mutters, eyes trained on the ground once more, voice soft and vulnerable. 

“I’m okay with every choice you provide,” he continues as he peels your wet jacket off your shoulders innocently. When his hand reaches the inside of your coat, grazing against your exposed waist, he pulls his hand back. His face is a storm of conflicted torment.

“...But you should take a warm bath first. Or else you’ll catch a cold.”

As he turns to leave, the sight of his lean and muscled back making you blush, you muster all your courage and call out to him, “You can’t leave. You still haven’t answered my question.”

You catch his wrist, using all your force to pull him back. Rafayel stiffens, unable to catch himself before he tumbles backwards into the filled tub. 

He’s able to protect his head from hitting the edge of the tub, the water sloshing around and splashing onto the tiled bathroom floor. Rafayel sits in the tub, not a semblance of annoyance on his face. Instead he looks flustered, the warm water clinging to his defined muscles.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Rafayel’s hair is disheveled, the water making clumps of his damp hair stick to his wet skin. His eyes watch you with inscrutable emotions, waiting for you to speak. 

You don’t answer his question, instead asking one of your own.

“You can spare me the details, but there’s something important you should tell me…” you hum, walking to his side by the tub, leaning over him, “How do Lemurians express love?”

Rafayel looks startled by your question for a second before composing himself, “Do you really want to know?” The fragrant candles in the bathroom flicker, the steam of the bath dancing against the soft flames. His words seem less like a genuine question…and more like a vague warning. 

Before you can respond, Rafayel’s fingers are closed around your wrist, tugging you into the tub on top of him. You squeal as Rafayel guides your body onto his, the violent crashing of water loud against the soft sound of the rain against the large glass windows.

Rafayel looks smug, his hand holding yours against his chest. You’re messily sprawled across his half naked body when he shifts you off of him so that he can sit next to you, his strong arm wrapping around your body. The warm water is uncomfortable against your still half-clothed body, but you can only focus on the way Rafayel holds your fingers up to his mouth, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand like you were royalty. 

“When Lemurians fall in love with someone…” Rafayel mutters, his warm breath fanning against your hand, “All our senses are committed to perceive them without question.” His eyes are intense as he speaks to you, hoping to convey even an ounce of the love he speaks so honestly of. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Your senses? Like…this?” You untangle your hand from his, bringing your index finger up to his lips. You barely graze his pouty bottom lip before he’s panting, struggling to speak. 

“...Your way of triggering my “senses” has only touched the surface,” he mutters sulkily, yet he has to look away from you, cheeks rosy at your mere touch. He grabs your hand, eyes locked back onto yours giving you a silent warning. 

But you only proceed further, your fingers grasping his chin, your eyes peering up at him with a faux innocence. It’s not long before your fingers wander south, pressing into his heaving chest, flitting around his sharp collarbones. Rafayel’s reaction only fuels you with mischief and confidence, the way his breath matches his heartbeat: fast, erratic, and demanding. 

He looks at you with almost…disbelief. Disbelief at your actions, but more so disbelief at the way your simplest touches can have his body reacting so viscerally. It was a testament of just how much the dark-mauve haired Lemurian loved you, his every sense reacting to you so readily.

“...Are all humans idiots?” Rafayel grits, refusing to look at you again. But his body betrays his words when your hand ventures further down. You’re barely able to register the shocked expression on his flushed face before your back is pressed into the edge of the tub, the water splashing wilding as Rafayel hovers atop you.

He’s careful not to press his body into you, knowing he’d be an absolute goner once he felt your core against his. His thick muscles twitch angrily as he holds you down against the back of the tub, your hand clutching his shoulder for support against his erratic actions. 

“Someone’s intentions are as clear as day,” he accuses you. Though his words hold not even an ounce of ill-intention, he narrows his eyes at you. Just then, the rain outside turns into lightning, briefly illuminating Rafayel’s ethereal features. The flash of light accentuates the tempest that’s brewing in suspicious eyes. 

As you watch the turmoil flicker in them, you suddenly think maybe you pushed too far, “Do you not like it?” Your voice comes out more insecure than you’d wanted it to, suddenly aware of how forward you were being.

Rafayel sighs, pausing before his voice comes out pained, “If I said I didn’t, would you stop?” 

At the hint of anguish in his voice, you move to pull your hand away. But Rafayel’s hand abandons its grip on the tub to clasp against your hand, holding it tighter against his neck, refusing to let you go.

You gasp, as his movements cause the warm water to swash around. With his forceful hand over yours, your flushed skin prickles against his alarmingly chilly skin. 

“Rafayel, your body is so cold!” you whisper worriedly, fearing he might be catching a cold. For a second you forget that he’s Lemurian, accustomed to the frigid depths of the ocean. As your eyes search his anxiously, hand still gripping his cold shoulder, Rafayel’s own eyes watch yours meticulously. 

The swirls of blue and pink in his eyes have always been breathtaking, like the perfect mix of the most expensive paints. But now, as he watches you with the depth of the whole Lemurian oceans in his eyes, you’re completely speechless to the flickering of rampant passion behind them. 

That is until he grabs your chin roughly. Rafayel was no stranger to taking what he wanted, but this was different. The way he grabbed you screamed of…insecurity. Demanding, but unsure all the same. His cheeks are tinged the prettiest of coral pinks, his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he closes the distances between your faces. Quickly, so he can’t change his mind. 

His soft lips slot over yours in a bruising embrace of passion, need, and unwavering longing. There’s something mind numbing about how gently his lips take yours, yet the pads of his fingers hold your chin so forcibly, as if afraid you’d slip into the depths of the water and disappear from his arms forever. 

The thunder rumbles deafeningly but all you can hear is Rafayel. He pants into you, his mouth claiming every inch of your lips, of your tongue. He kisses you like he knows nothing else, like he feels nothing else. 

He doesn’t let you go, although you’d never want him to. You only want him to hold you tighter, pull you closer, take you harder. You want to protest when he finally pulls away, gasping as a thin rope of saliva connects your parted and bruised lips.

Flashes of light illuminate his face, making him look as ethereal as the sirens warned about in ancient tales and myths. He hesitates to speak, trying to find the words to convey the emotions he’s been trying to control since the memories of Verona had begun to overwhelm him. The memories of his past. His past with you.

“And you’re warm,” he pants, still trying to catch his breath. His heart was pounding painfully, his body always so willing to react to you. All his senses, always so hyper aware of you, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. His thumb strokes your glistening bottom lip, fingers still holding your chin captive. His eyes watch you with an unbearable longing, the previously intense crinkle in them softened to a tender vulnerability. 

“So perfect for me.”

Butterflies wriggle in your tummy, and you reach your wet hands reach up to cup his cheeks. 

“Rafayel, you seem different…” you mumble, stroking the cold and smooth expanse of his cheek. He looks down, avoiding your gaze, clearly grappling with a turmoil of intrusive emotions and memories. Despite that all, his face softens under your touch, even unbeknownst to him. 

Before you can ask him what’s on his mind, he’s rubbing his cheeks into your palms. The warmth of your affectionate embrace makes it difficult for Rafayel to think clearly, and he can’t stop himself from whispering, “Will you still love me no matter who I become?”

You’re speechless at the blatant insecurity in his voice, in his eyes. Rafayel was always confident, years as a world-famous artist had made him self-assured in more ways than one. But now, as his shadowed and down-cast eyes searched yours desperately for an answer, you could see just how unsure he was. You could see the cracks forming in his polished shield, the fissure spider webbing uncontrollably, on the precipice of shattering completely. 

His eyes pierce yours, fully intending to get an answer from you. You don’t even think he notices how pouty he’s become, his bottom lip protruding in an tragically adorable show of just how badly he needs you to understand him. To love him. 

To remember him. 

Unable to withstand his paralyzing gaze any longer, you yank him down to you by the chain that hangs around his neck. The silver necklace matched the shimmering bracelet he’d gifted you, that currently sits on your own wrist. 

Rafayel grunts as you pull him closer, clearly taken aback. His gaze doesn’t lighten, only becoming more intense and heated as your breath grows more bated against his own parted lips. 

“You…” he grumbles, trailing off, eyes flickering down to the beautiful sheen across your lips, before they dart away, looking to where his fingers grip the edge of the porcelain white tub. The rosy blush that dusts his cheeks gives away just how much he yearns for more, more of you. 

You find him to be so irresistibly tortured that you can’t help but hook your arm around his neck, pulling him further down until your lips collide with his collar. If you can take even an ounce of his tumultuous pain away, you’d do it.

The thunder roars violently as you kiss him, the water in the tub splashing over and hitting the bathroom tile. Rafayel is quick to relent all control, letting you take every inch of him. His fingers thread into your hair as you kiss his sensitive chest, teeth nipping at the cold skin on his collar. His whimpering gasps are audible, fingers tugging at your damp hair, as you suckle torturously at his chest, no doubt leaving a reddened bruise. 

When he finally pulls away, there’s a clear look of reluctance on his beautiful features. You try and pull him back, and he briefly lets you before pulling back, the look of hesitation returning to his thunderous eyes. 

You give up, instead moving your finger to brush against the reddened hickey forming on his collar. Rafayel looks at you, pained and begging for mercy, as your fingernails graze over the sensitive skin. 

“When humans fall in love…” you hum, admiring the beautiful bruise, “We try to leave a unique mark on them.” 

At that precise moment, the moment you mention you’re in love with him, you can visibly see the fractured remnants of Rafayel’s walls come crashing down. He pants, eyes fixed on the way your hand presses over the right side of his chest, so dangerously close to where his heart was. To where his bond with you was etched into his very soul. 

In that very moment, a flip switches in Rafayel. His eyes burn, not with anguish or uncertainty, but with a dangerous desire.

“If you say so…” he rasps, leaning in until your breaths mingle into one. As his eyes flicker closed, lips ghosting along yours, he whispers, just before his lips claim yours. 

“Join me, then.” His lips press into yours, holding back as to not take you completely.

“Let’s drown in the ocean.” He inhales your torrid gasps, his words deceitfully simple. 

“Together.”

Rafayel kisses you, instantaneously consuming you. He pants into you, unable to soften the way his body reacts to you, the way his senses consume you until there’s nothing left of him. To him, loving you, losing you, and repeating the cycle…felt exactly like that.

Like drowning. 

He throws all that emotion into the way he kisses you. The embrace is so intense that it makes tears form in your eyes, emotions welling in your chest so tightly you fear you might burst. 

When he pulls away to breathe, you look up at him, “You never answered my question from earlier.”

Rafayel’s eyes widened, knowing exactly which question you were referring to. What he didn’t expect was for you to be so direct. His eyes dart around, but you hold his face in your palms before he can physically turn away. He opens his mouth to speak, before pursing his lips again in hesitation. 

You gently prod him, fingers stroking his locked jaw, “Raf?” 

“It…” he starts, eyes crackling with emotions. Rafayel struggles to find the words. He knows exactly what he wants to tell you, but can’t find the words to express it to you. 

It’s not that he wanted to be withholding, least of all with you. He would give you anything. He had given you everything, time and time again. To the point where it destroyed him. 

But the fear of having it all taken away, again, had made him so reluctant to lean back into the wind, like he’d done so many times in the past. Too scared of how much of himself he’d lose again in the never-ending cycle of falling irrevocably in love with you. 

And yet, as much as it took from him, it didn’t matter. Because you were everything to him.

“In this human world…it’s not difficult for a Lemurian to become lonely,” he laments wistfully, eyes misted with a faraway look. 

He continues. “But in all the lives I’ve lived, I almost never felt lonely,” Rafayel gently smiles at you, a smile filled with a wistful sorrow. 

“Really? Why?” you ask genuinely, still soothing his hardened jaw. His features had softened considerably as he peered down at your wet form, the tension between his legs growing visibly.

Rafayel chuckles. His answer was simple. 

Because, there was always you. 

But that was a tale for another time. 

“Are you trying to trick a foolish Lemurian into giving up all his secrets again, my little human?” he whispers huskily, leaning down to kiss at the skin under your ear. 

You’re about to ask him what he means by again, but the words die on your tongue when Rafayel sinks his teeth into your neck. His fingers find the buttons of your drenched top, unbuttoning it feverishly, desperately shedding your layers of clothing off of you.

Before you know it, you’re naked in Rafayel’s arms, his own bare manhood pressed insistently into your inner thighs, dangerously close to your core. Though the rest of his body is chilly from the rainwater, his throbbing erection burns against your skin. Even submerged in water, you can feel his pre cum oozing onto your leg, hot and thick.

His lips trail down your shivering body, kissing the grooves of your collar, teeth grazing the swell of your breasts. He’s nearly heaving, gasping for air like he can’t breathe. And truthfully, he couldn’t.

The dam of his emotional barriers absolutely decimated, the flood of his unabated passion overwhelming his senses. There is only you. The smell, the sound, the feeling, the sight, the taste of you. 

A Lemurian in love. Utterly, brokenly, and wholeheartedly. 

You try to match his intensity, pulling at his soft and wavy hair, drawing him closer to your naked body. You thrust your chest towards him, wanting him to claim you like he’d done so many times before. 

Rafayel chuckles at your obvious desires, but more than willing to oblige. His Queen. 

His lips close over your breast, his lips cold but his tongue wet and hot against your nipple. The warm water splashes messily against your clashing bodies. The lightning outside flashes, the shadows of your lewd acts dancing against the bathroom walls.

“Nnghnh, R-Raf!” you wail, his skilled mouth devouring you whole. Your spine arches into his demanding mouth, the wet splashes of the bath and the ravenous slurps filling the acoustics of the hotel bathroom. 

The pleasure of his tongue is so intense that your body can’t help but squirm backwards. Rafayel chuckles almost cynically, as he captures the back of your neck with his long and slender fingers. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to run away from me,” he pouts, leveling with your drooping eyes, body already delirious from the pleasure Rafayel knows how to bring you. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, bringing your chin up so that your eyes meet, “Don’t make me wait anymore, please.” 

You can’t help but smile at his adorable pout, his eyebrows furrowed in a sulky plea. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, twirling his wavy hair into your fingers, bringing him closer until your foreheads are pressed together. 

“I don’t want to wait either,” you whisper breathlessly against him, his face so close you can feel the length of his eyelashes against your cheek.

Rafayel gulps, his neck bobbing with the pressure of how forcefully he has to restrain his senses, restrain himself. It’s so clear how vulnerable he is to your every whim, so you take the opportunity to push him below you. His glimmering eyes shine with confusion, but he lets you climb atop him, hissing when your slick cunt presses down on his cock.

“What are you doing, Miss?”

You don’t answer, leaning over the tub to grab Rafayel’s damp cardigan, bringing it up to his face. He raises an eyebrow in question at you, his palms resting in the fat of your hips as your bare pussy drags against his pelvis. 

“Do you trust me?” you grin playfully at him, spreading the cardigan out and preparing to use it as a makeshift blindfold. Rafayel seems to know exactly what you’re planning. He looks up at you, inexplicable emotions reflected in his glassy eyes. 

“I do,” he whispers finally. His worlds are simple, yet something about them rips through your consciousness, filling you with a torrent of bittersweet fractures of a lost memory. 

A memory of another time Rafayel told you those same words.

I do.

Rafayel can read the confusion in your eyes, and squeezes your hips reassuringly. You’re shaken from the confusion of your mind-bending memories. Trying to focus on the moment at hand, you clear your throat and carefully tie the soft and expensive cardigan around Rafayel’s head, effectively cutting off his vision.

You lean down to whisper against his ears, lobes pink with excitement and anticipation.

“Let me show you what else humans do when we’re in love.”

Rafaye’s entire body quakes, his chest rising rapidly at your unabashed words. His fingers dig into your hips as he does his best to limit his embarrassingly visceral reactions to your body. With his vision limited, all his other senses are heightened to your will. 

With your lips at this ear, your neck is exposed to him. The smell of your pheromones mixed with your perfume clouds his thoughts, the urge to drive his teeth into your pulse so unbelievably overwhelming. But your palm on his chest pushes him down, your lips trailing down his ear, down his neck, and to his chest. 

With his eyes covered, his skin is all the more sensitive to your touch, 

“Please,” Rafayel rasps, nails digging into your thighs, “Please. I can’t wait anymore.”

You giggle at how adorably needy he’s become. You can tell just how much the blindfold affects him, his body more readily reactive to your lips, your fingers, your words.

Even with his eyes covered, Rafayel can’t help but pout. The inability to see you, his beautiful Queen, made him all the more desperate.

You decide to indulge him, fist closing around his cock under the water. Rafayel’s hips jolt violently, his lower half lifting to chase the friction of your soft hand. While he cries out in pleasure, you kiss down to where the water meets his defined chest.

“O-oh fuuck,” Rafayel hisses, his head thrown back on the edge of the tub, neck straining into the cool ceramic. His hips buck up into your fist wildly, your hand moving far too languidly for his taste. You continue to tease him slowly, his cock and your hand completely submerged under the surface of the water. He whimpers, teeth digging into his bottom lip, continuously thrusting up into your hand.

You take his desperation as an opportunity to torture him more, moving as gently as you can so that you can move up to his ear without him noticing. With your hand still pumping his oozing cock under the water, you whisper into his ear, letting your tongue graze his earlobe.

“When humans love someone…we want to make them feel good,” you whisper seductively into his ear, purposely letting your words come out in hot breaths. Rafayel jolts and squirms in response, fingers gripping the edge of the tub until his knuckles are pale white. 

“Sh-shiit,” he hisses breathlessly as your hand pumps up and down faster, the movements causing the water to ripple. His muscles flex under your touch, shining with a wet sheen against the flashing glow of lightning. 

“So? Does it feel good, Raf?” you murmur into his neck, pressing a chaste kiss to where his throat bobs with the heavy beat of his pulse. 

He thrusts himself into your hand violently, voice coming out in a gravelly groan, “Yes. You always feel so fucking good. S-so soft.”

Surprising him again, you take his lips into yours, insistently pushing your tongue into his mouth, all the while your fist continues to jerk him off. You catch every one of his unabashed moans with your own mouth, the muffled sounds of his pleasure mixing with the thundering storm outside.

It’s a furious clashing of saliva, teeth, and pure unfiltered passion. His fingers digging into your waist, your fingers squeezing his cock so tightly it threatens to have him spilling all over you and the filled tub. 

When you pull away, the spit dribbles down Rafayel’s chin and onto his damp chest. He looks adorably flustered, the cardigan still covering his eyes. With his sight gone, the feeling of your tongue against his, your fingers wrapped around his cock, your plush thighs against his twitching muscles is all the more intense. His body, all the more pliant for you. 

“Hah – if you keep going, I’m g-gonna–”

He doesn’t even have time to finish his words when his cock lurches in your greedy hands, thick and burning rivulets of cum shooting into the lukewarm bathwater. It’s strangely beautiful, like a ribbon of iridescent pearls. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Rafayel gasps, nearly choking over his own rapid breath, his fingers gripping the edges of the tub.

His body convulses with his orgasm, a broken mantra of swears and lewd groans the only thing audible even in the roar of the storm outside. 

“Nnnghnh – b-baby,” Rafayel whines as you pump him through a mind-numbing overstimulation, desperate to see you. But you don’t stop, only giggling as you watch even more cum spurt from his angry pink tip. 

In a sudden flash of splashing water and strong fingers gripping your thighs, you find yourself under Rafayel again, his hand holding the back of your neck protectively as he slams you into the edge of the tub. His cardigan no longer covers his eyes, likely discarded somewhere on the wet floor.

Your eyes are wide from the whiplash of his sudden movements, “Rafayel?”

His sunset eyes blaze wildly as he watches you, the sight of you so utterly indulgent and overwhelming after having his vision returned to him. 

“Will you let me worship you?” 

His question is vulnerable, desperate. He looks at you so damn hopefully that it’d be impossible to say no even if some insane part of you wanted to. 

You reach up to clasp his cheek in your hands, pulling him closer until your noses brush against each other, “Yes, always.”

With the breathy desperate utterance of consent leaving your lips, fanning across his open mouth, he loses it.

He forces your thighs wider, gripping you by the fat of your hips and dragging you towards him until your bare cunt brushes right against once-again hard erection. You were used to Rafayel’s virtually non-existent refractory period, his cock upright and commanding attention so quickly after his orgasm.

The lukewarm bath water makes every touch feel much more fluid, all the more intimate and sensitive. Your grip the edges of the tub for support, Rafayel’s movements erratic and unpredictable. He leans down towards you, your bodies as close as the confines of the tub will allow. 

“My Queen,” he mutters under his breath like a vow, shifting to line himself up with your entrance. Without another warning, he pushes himself into you. 

You squeal at the stretch, your arousal making it easy for him to push into you completely. Rafayel groans as he enters you, his head thrown back in ecstasy, his large hands wrapped around your thighs. 

Rafayel is absolutely not shy with his cries of pleasure. His body shudders even though he hasn’t moved since seating himself fully inside of your warm and impossibly tight walls. 

When he doesn’t move, you screw your eyes open in confusion, doing your best to speak through the wonderful stretch of his cock inside your quivering walls, “R-Raf? Are you okay?”

Rafayel doesn’t speak, but the glow of the storm outside illuminates the way his throat bobs, every fiber of his body overstimulated with the pleasure of your body gripping his, refusing to let go.

You move to shift towards him, worried about the way he’s locked up, but that only causes your body to involuntarily squeeze around him. Rafayel hisses, pushing you back down gently, his fingers caressing your cheek.

“I-I just need a second.”

“A-are you okay?” you ask worriedly.

“You’re so tight, so warm,” Rafayel chokes out, his fingers tightening around your cheek and thigh. You can vaguely feel his cock growing inside you, and it’s then you realize he’s paralyzed, not by hesitation or pain, but pleasure.

You can’t stop yourself from teasing him, clenching down on his manhood snug inside you. Rafayel moans, his hands coming down to grip your thighs in a silent warning.

“No more teasing me,” he cautions with a pout, one hand shifting to rest on your naval. At your mischievous grin, Rafayel presses down. 

You cry out, eyes rolling back as he forces the walls of your pussy to rub against his cock. Rafayel wants to smirk at your helpless writhing, but the sensation is also overwhelming for him. His body heaves, nearly collapsing on top of you, only catching himself by gripping the sides of the tub.

Your fingers wrap around his trembling biceps, eyes urging him to take you.

Rafayel swears, obliging at the fucked-out look in your eyes. He unsheathes himself fully from your addicting gummy walls, barely even leaving his tip in, before shoving himself back into you.

The newfound vigor of his thrusts makes the water in the tub slosh wildly, splashing all over your face and hair. But you could care less, because the feeling of his excitement bruising its way in and out of your throbbing cunt is literally all you can think about. Pathetic moans of pleasure, the only sound you can make.

Rafayel fares no better, strings of beautiful grunts leaving his own lips. His pelvis slams into your soft inner thighs, the sound of the water against your colliding skin sinfully mixing with your combined moans. 

“You’re so – nghnh – perfect for me, Y/N,” Rafayel groans as he drives into you, the tip of his cockhead brushing into your cervix and g-spot all at once, at every thrust. 

His hands clutching the tub on either side of your head cage you in, making it so the only thing you can focus on is him. And the only thing that his senses can perceive is you.

The only thing he can see is you, your tears mixing with the soapy water, the reddened love bites blossoming on your skin.

The smell of you heightened even against the fragrant scent of the bath soap, your pheromones driving him to the edge of insanity. 

Your wanton cries for him, fueling him to fuck you harder, the sounds of your sweet pleasure making his own noises come out unabashedly. 

The taste of you lingering on his tongue every time he bends down to capture your lips in his, saliva running down both your chins. 

But mostly…the feeling of your perfect walls constricting him, pulling him in, refusing to let go. The feeling of your hands, pressed deep into his twitching muscles. Your soft thighs locking him against your sopping cunt. 

God, he was so in love with you it was nearly pitiful. 

“You’ll always be my Queen,” Rafayel babbles, thrusts becoming erratic as he becomes overwhelmed by the bittersweet memories that’d resurfaced in Verona, “My entire heart.”

You nod vigorously at his words. “Always Raf,” you gasp, holding onto him as he pounds into you even harder, your spine thudding into the tub, the water cushioning the blows.

“You better never leave me,” he broods, putting every ounce of emotion into the way his cock claims every inch of your poor cunt. The word ‘again’ dies on his lips, the writhing artist above you opting to save that for another time.

“W-would – nnghnh – never leave you.”

His wild eyes focus on your words. He says simply, the subtleist hint of insecurity and doubt playing in his shaky voice, “I’m gonna – hah – hold you to that.”

You bob your head, wanting him to see how serious you are, see just how much he meant to you.

Your fingers venture to your clit, desperately pent up from all the sexual and emotional tension that’d built up from today. Rafayel doesn’t see you immediately, his head thrown back in a drawn out groan, his body glistening with sweat and bath water, chiseled muscles twitching with his impending release.

When he finally glances back down, he sees your fingers furiously pawing at your clit and he nearly growls at the sight beneath him.

His voice comes out broken and husky, uncharacteristically so for the normally charismatic and smooth-talking painter. He gently pushes your fingers away, his own lengthy and skilled fingers replacing yours.

“Let me,” he begs, hips stuttering as he nears his second release, “I’ll take care of you Y/N.”

His sweet words make you shiver, your body convulsing around him. Rafayel shudders as you grow tighter around him. It felt like you were nearly cutting off his circulation, in the best way. 

Rafayel’s fingers on your quivering bundle of nerves have you seeing lightning even with your eyes screwed tightly shut. He truly had the hands of a god, fingers slender and deft, the pads of his digits hardened from years of skilfully maneuvering expensive paint brushes. Your body was his canvas, and he’d spend hours creating art with you. 

“R-Rafayel, I’m soo – nngh – c-cloose,” you slur, your body arching into him, head thrown back until all you see is the ceiling above. 

Rafayel heaves at the sensation of you coming undone around him, his fingers still rubbing furiously. There’s a bright desperation in his glowing eyes, the need to see you cum on him as strong as the need to fill you up with his endless seed. 

As his body trembles above you, his fingers grip the tub so harshly his knuckles have turned taut and deathly white. 

“I-I’m close too, baby,” he groans, “Please, can I cum?”

You nod vigorously, wanting nothing more than to feel him release with you But Rafayel wants to hear you. 

“Say it, Y/N. Tell me,” he pleads, “I need to hear you.” His voice is so brokenly desperate it drives you closer to your release, the sound of his lewd pleas so utterly erotic. 

“Ra-Rafayel, n-need it s’bad. Shiiit – please!” you all but scream, his insistent fingers pushing you into your orgasm. 

Rafayel chews on his bottom lip as he watches how beautifully you explode on him, so unbelievably close to finishing himself. He desperately wanted to cum inside you, but he knew if he did that he would be at the point of no return. You’d very well spend the rest of your trip in Verona locked in your hotel room, his cock nestled inside you until you literally begged for mercy. And maybe not even then. 

So with every ounce of will he had left, he pulled out of you as he came, standing on his knees so he could wrap his fist firmly around his cock as he came. The force of his cum so strong it shot all over your damp breasts and even your face, your expression still contorted in the ecstasy of your climax. 

You watch in awe, your cunt convulsing around nothing, your orgasm tapering off, as Rafayel trembles through his own pleasure. His cum is hot as it splashes onto your wet body, some of it shooting into your hair. Honestly the sight of how powerfully his cock erupted makes your stomach lurch in arousal.

Rafayel whimpers through his endless orgasm, his fist pumping up and down as he finishes on you. You’re left quivering beneath his imposing body, mesmerized by the white ropes of cum that shoot from his angry red tip. 

When he finally finishes, his glassy eyes watch you, absolutely awestruck. He bends down, his forearms trembling as one grips the side of the tub, the other stroking your cheek. He catches a rivulet of his milky seed with his finger, grinning cheekily at your reddened face.

“I’ve never seen anything so damn beautiful.” 

If it’s even possible, your cheeks burn even more furiously. You swat his fingers away.

“Shut up,” you whine, looking around at your bodies, joined in the filled tub. You inwardly cringe when you notice there’s more pools of milky white fluid than there are bubbles at this point. The amount of cum he gave you every time was nothing short of a phenomenon. 

“It’s everywhere!” you shriek dramatically, hitting his chest above you, “We need to get cleaned up!”

Rafayel’s grin widens, and before you can ask him what he’s scheming, he uses the finger still on your cheek to smear his cum around.

“Rafayel!” you yelp, trying your best to inch away from his filthy fingers, coated in both your arousals, struggling due to the limited space of the tub.

“But you look so exquisite like this,” Rafayel murmurs, fingers capturing your chin, pulling you up to look at him, his eyes hazy and sated, “My beautiful Queen…”

He dips down to press a lingering kiss to parted lips, mouth hitched open in excitement. When he pulls away he grins playfully at you.

“Besides, it’s good for your skin. Lemurians have a lot of uses, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Is that why your skin always looks so flawless?”

Rafayel’s cheeks flare, his eyes averting from yours, “Okay! Let’s get cleaned up shall we?”

You smile widely, unable to contain your fit of giggles. Your body shakes with your laughter, making the water ripple, “You’ve tried it haven’t you?”

Rafayel’s sheepish expression answers your question, “No! Shut up!”

“I knew it!”

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[sttoru]

hi!! could you write smut of sukuna w/ corruption kink x clingy reader? i need to see more of them 🤭🤭

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine! female reader. smut, pwp. corruption kink. reader is described as clingy cute / innocent. voyeurism?// exhibitionism. double pénetràtion. cowgirl. cream pies. nicknames ‘slut, brat, woman’. combined 2 requests :3

it’s honestly your own fault. you’ve been sticking around sukuna the entire day, clinging onto him like he won’t let you experience the consequences of your own actions.

“eyes on me, brat,” sukuna scoffs, thumb and index roughly turning your chin back. he needs to see your face as he embarrasses you in front of the guests and other concubines standing around the throne.

you’re supposed to feel regret, yet you’re drowning in a state of pure lust. it’s the thrill that keeps your hips going, the ache in them temporarily ignored as you search for that grande moment of euphoria.

you can’t care less about the humans at the bottom of the stairs. they’re grovelling in fear of the king of curses, knowing their heads can fly off if they dare to look up at you two.

it’s a sign of disrespect—a sign that the king of curses can’t care less about what those lowlifes have come to see him for. sukuna’s doing so on purpose, using your clinginess to his advantage.

“hah, what a total slut of a concubine,” sukuna scoffs, leaning his head against one of his hands, elbow propped onto the armrest. this is a punishment for you, though it certainly does not feel like that. even if all attendants in the room can hear you fucking yourself silly on sukuna’s dicks.

you and those sloppy sounds of your two bodies connecting.

you try to hold back your moans, but a rough yank to your hair instantly opens your mouth again. your eyes roll back and your voice spews out. “mhh, my lord—‘s too much,” you whimper, however your body doesn’t stop bouncing on his cocks. sukuna responds by squeezing your middle while he watches his lengths being swallowed by your cunt and ass.

it’s funny how you’ve been reduced to a mess—a toy he can command to do whatever he pleases. your clinginess secretly pleases him, because it reassures him that you’ll do what’s asked of you. sukuna grins lazily, letting you work for it, “too much? tsk. weren’t you the one begging f’ my attention, brat?”

he does have a point. you nod mindlessly whilst his cocks drill into you—leaving no hole empty. your eyes dart to both sides of the throne, where two concubines are situated. you can see them tremble in embarrassment and envy.

sukuna’s showing you off to everyone and they don’t like it; none of the concubines do. they hate the fact that he chose you to show off to everyone else in the room. like you’re the only trophy he’s proud of.

the guests don’t dare to speak either. nor does uraume, who’s politely looking the other way as their master ravages his favorite little concubine. they’re used to his acts of exercising his power.

sukuna keeps a firm grip on your hair, threatening to pull your head back each time you dare look around you. “you have no shame. absolutely zero,” the king of curses says condescendingly. as if the humiliation of being watched isn’t enough, sukuna’s words add to the embarrassment you’re feeling, “cock hungry slut can’t go a minute without being filled, hm?”

your whimpers get louder and your pace grows faster. his fat tips hit your deepest parts over and over again, the stretch threatening to split you in half. you’re too turned on to care. the way sukuna’s staring at you with that menacing glare—his sharp nails digging into your skin so painfully . . . you need it all.

“this ‘s why you’ve been following me ‘round all day long,” sukuna grunts—one hand coming up to free your breasts from the confines of your robes, “y’ just needed to be dicked down.” the flicks against your stiff nipples make you tighten up around his cocks again and again.

you’re nearly screaming because of everything your senses are picking up on. your half lidded eyes catch a glimpse of sukuna’s cocky facial expression and you’re almost pushed over the edge. he’s so smug—knowing he has you in the palm of his hand.

his eyes are luring you in. there’s a hint of something so primal in there - a beast impatiently waiting to be unleashed - one that sukuna is trying his best to suppress.

“aren’t you just cute. . .” sukuna mocks with a dangerous chuckle. his thumb rubs your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth for you to suckle on.

“kehehe, isn’t that what those servants call you? cute.. innocent.. adorable,” he continues, faintly groaning at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his thumb. sukuna cocks his head to the right and your eyes follow. that’s where you spot your maids and lady-in-waiting in a corner.

you feel tears well up in your eyes from both pleasure and humiliation. everyone is seeing and hearing you being claimed by the monster of a curse you’re riding. your maids have always adored your innocence—how you don’t seem to be tainted by sukuna’s advances no matter what. it’s a first to them.

it has been a rumor around the estate for so long; you being the only concubine who can withstand sukuna’s wicked influence. you always seem to stay yourself, your cheery and sweet personality never changing. you’ve been known as the innocent one among all other concubines.

yet here those same maids are, watching your brain being corrupted by sin. you’re so sinfully enjoying how sukuna’s cocks are penetrating you. “n-no, am—fnghh—don’t wanna,” you stammer, speaking to no one in particular. your inner desires clash with your rational mind and your body seems to continue its erotic act.

“don’t you fight it, woman,” sukuna brings your attention back by thrusting his cocks all the way up inside you, balls slapping harshly against your ass. he’s proud with his accomplishments. you’re slowly but surely being tainted by him and it’s so pleasing.

soon enough, that damned innocence of yours is going to disappear. he’s going to turn you into a total slut driven by lust, for him and only him. he’s going to ruin you and your body until all you can think of is the pleasure he can give you.

your nails dig into sukuna’s shoulders. you moan loudly, losing the battle, as expected. the king of curses just knows how to make you give in. he takes great pleasure in seeing you lose yourself, with everyone watching how he strips you from that innocence.

“stupid, nasty fuckin’ thing,” sukuna grunts as the lower pair of his arms hold you by your hips. he halts your movements before starting his own. “y’re mine, ya hear?” he pounds up into you—making you mewl. a chant of his name leaves your lips. you simply cannot stop yourself.

“yes, ‘m yours, my lord!” you moan for everyone to hear. the pink-haired man grins in satisfaction and quickly plunges his cocks in and out of your holes, needing to release himself so he could fully claim you as his in front of the rest.

his dirty cumslut, his tainted and brainless doll.

sukuna wraps all four arms around you, leaving no room for escape. he presses you against him until you’re struggling to breathe. your head is pushed against his shoulder and your insides are being turned into mush. the gooey fluids drip down onto the throne and down the floor.

“fuck. not a drop goes to waste or i’m fuckin’ ya again,” sukuna warns before shooting loads of cum into your womb and up your ass. both your holes are stuffed full of white, sticky semen mixed with your own release. you desperately clench around nothing once sukuna pulls you off his dicks.

you try to reach your hands out towards him as he manoeuvres your body away once he’s finished. the king of curses pins your wrists at your back so he can turn you around on his thighs, forcefully spreading your legs like a trophy he’s showing off on his throne.

one arm wraps around your waist and his chin rests on your right shoulder. sukuna keeps you on his lap and continues to act like he didn’t just completely wreck your insides.

while you’re left in the intense moment, he seems to have moved on already.

“speak,” sukuna orders the humans who’ve witnessed the whole ordeal. their foreheads are stuck on the floor—none of them daring to look up at the sight, like everyone else.

you’re panting and your head is spinning. you’re totally spent. sukuna holds your limp body up on his lap as one hand is busy scooping the excess cum back into your pussy, not wasting a drop like said before.

one of the villagers finally speaks up, stating the reason for their visit to the estate. their voice is muffled due to a loud buzzing in your ear. you’re tired and can’t focus on what’s said either. you just want to sleep. . . in sukuna’s warm embrace, filled and half-naked, for the entire room to see as they continue discussing business as if you’re not even there.

[gyaruhana]

hiii i have a request for gwinam ^_^ - maybe something when he is walking in the school after being bitten and he finds reader, who is a ver shy & overvall cutesy person, and gwinam has had a crush on her for a very long timee ,, maybe him founding her leading to a confession and then it gets spicy ??

take ur time !! 🎀 (dont mind it if u take the request and turn it into headcanons, i know u are just writing like that rn :33)

Yoon Gwi-Nam - Shy!reader (detailed) headcannons

Synopsis: gwinam with a shy reader (me core)..

A/N: i love him so much he will return in season two trust !! this is not proof read for the record..

Warnings: smut content, it's yoon gwinam (actually he's sort of soft i'm ngl)

➠ Gwinam very much felt like God given his current situation. He was bitten by zombies after Cheongsan had the guts to both gouge his eye out and push him off the bookcase into the hoard of zombies but Gwinam had survived. He was convinced that it was destiny. That he was given the gift of immunity so he could carry out what he believed to be his sole purpose: revenge on Cheongsan.

➠ At least, that was what he had believed to be his reason for surviving. Until he caught a very familiar scent. Being bitten by zombies had given him enhanced strength, enhanced vision- enhanced everything really. But it most importantly gave him an amazing sense of smell. He could smell the light, lingering scent of perfume and he knew exactly who it belonged to.

➠ You. Pretty and adorable you. Far before the apocalypse had occurred, he had formed a crush on you. You were shy and there was something so endearing about your nervous behavior that had him desperate for you. He was very aware of the fact that his feelings may not be reciprocated because, well, he was the total opposite of you and quite violent but now, with every other student being living corpses and no one for you to turn to, it's only logical you'd depend on him, right?

➠ A smirk settled on his face at the idea of having you utterly dependent on him. Now, he had two reasons for survival. One: Kill Cheongsan, and two: have you all to himself. With your scent clouding all his senses, he pushed Cheongsan to the back of his mind and set out to find which classroom you must be hiding in. He was sure that if he swooped in like a knight in shining armor, you'd immediately fall in love with him and live a sweet happy ever after.

➠ When he stumbled across the room you were hiding in, he came face to face with a very scared you. He could hear how fast your heart was racing and you quiet sniffles - a clear indicator you were (or at least had been) crying. The sound of your fear drove him mad for all the wrong reasons. He had already promised himself to never let anything happen to your sweet and innocent face so you could stay happy and that promise especially applied to the current problem.

➠ Without another word, he slammed the door open and walked in, an action that made you flinch as you quickly stood up. You had assumed a zombie had somehow forced it's way in but, when you looked at the source, you couldn't exactly tell. He didn't look like a rotting corpse but there was a lot of blood on him that gave you the feeling he wasn't exactly human either.

➠ He shut the door behind him to ensure no zombie could follow after him and eat your pretty flesh. After all, he didn't want you to die now that he found you. You'd be useless as a zombie and he'd rather not have to leave your rotting corpse behind.

➠ "What's wrong? You look a little scared," he spoke with a slight smirk. He found your fear slightly amusing now since he knew you'd absolutely be fine with him around to protect you. He'd be damned if he let you die in this hell hole.

➠ The surprise on your face when he finally talked was enough to make him laugh. He found your evident confusion amusing and he watched your eyes look him up and down several times as you assessed his condition.

➠ As if realizing he looked less than decent, he quickly raised a hand and wiped the blood around his mouth away and onto the sleeve of the white jacket he had stolen. He wasn't trying to scare you away from him, just scare you toward him but the blood on his face certainly wouldn't help him at all.

➠ "W-what happened to you..?" You questioned nervously as you made no move to get closer. He didn't want to be entirely honest because he could only assume you'd run if you realized he had already been bitten several times. It'd be better to lie to you for now so he could get close to you and make sure you don't escape him.

➠ "Nothing. Just got in a fight with another student," he responds as he slowly starts walking closer to you. Of course, you seemed skeptical of his words but he wasn't lying - he was just hiding certain parts of the story.

➠ It was quiet for a few seconds before you seemed to relax in his presence, believing his slight lie. He was slightly taken aback when you immediately walked over to him and pulled his face down to investigate his injury. The way your eyes scanned over his wounded eye made him feel something very new. A different warm feeling in his heart.

➠ "I don't really know much about health and injuries but maybe your eye could get infected if you don't treat it soon," you speak with a sheepish smile before pulling back a little. Your genuine concern for him was so adorable given what type of person was. He definitely didn't deserve your kindness but he took it anyway because he was greedy for you.

➠ "There might be a medkit in here," you speak as you make a move to turn away to search the room. Gwinam doesn't let you get far though and quickly grabs your hand to pull you back. "It's fine, it doesn't hurt or anything. I'm used to it," he speaks as he looks down at your concerned face.

➠ God, you were the cutest thing to him. Your big eyes, you're pretty eyelashes, the way your lips were in a slight pout because you were oh so concerned for him. Not to mention how you were noticeably smaller than him. God, every inch of you was perfect - utterly adorable.

➠ "Are you sure?" You ask curiously and he smirked as a thought crossed his mind at your words. "Well, there is one issue," he spoke as he looked down at you. Of course, your curiosity was peaked so you immediately questioned what the issue was - hoping to help him fix it.

➠ "I lied when I said it doesn't hurt. It does. I think I need someone to kiss it better," he says, his smirk only growing wider. His words pushed you into a stunned silence before you looked away and awkwardly smiled with a slight blush. Your reaction to his words only fueled his confidence as he pushed you to do it.

➠ Miraculously, he had actually managed to convince you despite how shy you seemed about the whole situation. He watched as you stood on your tippy toes and leaned closer. It was an adorable sight, watching you try reach up to give him a quick kiss. He couldn't stop the smile that spread on his face just like he couldn't stop himself from pressing his lips to yours.

➠ To ensure you didn't try pull away, he placed a hand on the back of your head to keep you close as he kissed you. You didn't reciprocate the kiss at first and he knew he'd have to coax you into it. He knew you were probably freaking out internally and far too shy to return his forward action.

➠ After what was a very long kiss, he pulled away with a smirk before licking his lips. "You're so tense. It's just me. Unless.. you don't want to kiss me?" he says teasingly. He can see the look on your face and, god, he'd love to still have his phone right about now so he could take a photo and capture it forever.

➠ If you were being honest with yourself, you weren't exactly against the kiss. You had seen him around school before the outbreak and you had heard of his tendency to bully students but you felt so drawn towards him. You couldn't help yourself - especially when he made it a point to stare at you from afar or brush his hand against yours when walking past in the hallway. He had really wormed his way into your heart.

➠ He stayed quiet for a few moments, letting you process what just happened before he leaned down and kissed you again. This time you reciprocated, more in tune with how you felt, and he was a little too pleased about that. He couldn't help himself when he started to kiss you with more passion before pulling away and trailing messy kisses down your neck and throat.

➠ It didn't take long before he had his cock inside you, pounding away at you with a bundle of grunts and groans leaving his mouth. He had you pressed against the wall, his hands on your thighs as he held you up and fucked his cock up into you. You felt so perfect around him - like you were made for his cock and it was driving him crazy.

➠ Every cry and moan and whimper that escaped your mouth drove him to use more force. He wanted you to cum on his cock. He wanted to fill you with his own cum too. He wanted to claim you and keep you as his forever. Not like you had anywhere else to go, Gwinam had decided that nobody would have you like this except for him. He'd be the only one allowed near you - allowed access to your perfect, tight hole.

➠ As he neared closer to the edge of what was sure to be his best release, he opted for a new position. He quickly moved you to the floor and pinned you down before practically folding you in half and thrusting fast and hard once again.

➠ The new position helped him to reach even deeper and he could feel your walls tighten around him, a clear sign you'd cum all over his cock soon. God, he couldn't wait to watch you come undone. He wanted to make you scream even if it caused every zombie within the school to run towards the classroom. Not like they could lay a finger on you anyway. He'd be damned if he let some corpse kill you now when he finally got his dick wet with your cum.

➠ The moment you do cum, he's cumming with you and neither of you were quiet about it. You both let out a loud moan as he continued to thrust inside of you as he orgasmed. "You're so fucking tight, fuck!" Gwinam cursed out as his thrusts slowed before eventually coming to a stop. He made no move to pull out though, wanting to make sure his seed stays inside of you.

➠ The classroom went quiet as the only sounds were the heavy breaths of both you and Gwinam. He had never felt so amazing in his life and now he knew for sure you were perfect for him.

─── "I'm never letting you go, you hear? I'm going to fuck your tight hole everyday now and make you my pretty doll,"

[missnevertell]

✨Polytrix relationship stages✨

Please don't take this seriously, I didn't when I wrote it

Zoey → Mira

1: oh my GOD she's so cool and hot (girl crush)

2: oh I get to be her friend cool cool act cool I'm so cool

3: somehow ADHDed so hard ended up dating and now they make out after every info dump session

Zoey → Rumi

1: oh my GOD she's so so cool and hot AND the daughter of one of my fav last generation's pop stars I'm so normal about it

2: She's actually a human being and the BEST leader but the most puzzling person ever like girl it's really hard to read which personality should I perform for you

3: “whaatssupp”

Mira → Zoey

1: girl chill (affectionate)

2: Never in my life have I thought I would learn so much about sea creatures. But here we are (she loves it)

3: you're kinda cute, but not die for because I rather live as long as I can to be able to treasure your existence and I hope you're the one burying me because if you go first it's going to be a double funeral

Mira → Rumi

1: “when I was seven I had a crush on a girl in my class & didn't know how to deal with it so I wrote her a letter that just said “get out of my school”

2: Uhh you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid (derogatory but would 100% fold immediately if Rumi made a move)

3: *proceeds not only to fall first, but also fall hard* FINE you win I guess *hold hands and swear life long promises*

Rumi → Mira

1: Gaze so piercing and words so blunt I don't know if she's planning to kill me in my sleep or eat me out. Either way I am kinda into it

2: You make me feel like coming home but you can also make me feel like I want to burn a house down

3: my unwavering admiration and companionship for you can totally coexist with the inexplicable urge to ragebait you into aggressively kissing me

Rumi → Zoey

1: I don't understand a word she says but she's so happy I feel like it’ll be like kicking a puppy if I tell her (spends an embarrassing amount of time NOT getting Zoey's heavy accented Korean)

2: oh so that's what it feels like to fall in love. Don't like it, give my sense of absolute control back

3: What if I don't control anything ever again. I just lay here with her. With a regulated nervous system. What if

I don't feel like this is very canon compliant but it's totally Canon in some AU where they are regular idols and meet during trainee era (no ethereal hunter connection to help them sort things out, these girls are butting their heads and feeding the Yuri but confused allegations)

[twilightofthesandwiches]

Okay, so one thought I had rattling in my head for a bit now is that the Dark Sanctuary of Deltarune Chapter 4 really reminds me of Undertale’s Waterfall.

I mean, the Dark Sanctuary doesn’t really have the water theming but… they are both the darkest parts of the game, both in a literal visual sense. With a mostly darker color-scheme and puzzles themed around darkness

and also in the narrative sense, being the most serious, solemn and grim part of the game. While Waterfall has its moments of levity and, y’know, Temmie Village, there’s a lot more focus of scenes of melancholy or fear compared to other parts of the game. While Undyne can be a very silly character, she only shows that side of herself to the Human during her Boss Fight right at the end and she’s otherwise a quiet and no-nonsense antagonist.

Deltarune Chapter 4 is the darkest chapter of Deltarune so far. It also has it's funnier moments but… The Church Dark World concept leads itself to much more serious theming and designs for the backgrounds and the enemies, it has some of the most serious exploration of our main characters' personalities and arcs, and has a lot of emphasize on the fact the stakes have been raised and Shit Just Got Real.

Plus, both Chapters deal heavily in the lore written on the walls of that area

Including a Prophecy

(well, in Deltarune it's exclusively a Prophecy, in Undertale it focuses on History and also includes a Prophecy)

And on a larger scale, both of these writings introduce the idea that the information we/the characters had before on the Lore is not the full picture.

And y'know, Gerson, who is present in both areas but also…

As the Hammer of Justice he also serves as a very heavy parallel to the Boss Fight(s) against Undyne in Undertale, both in visual design and gameplay (the Green Soul Mode).

Also, y'know, Piano Puzzles...

The thing is just… I didn't quite know what to do with this comparison. I mean, speculating on the idea the next Chapter would somehow be a Hotland Counterpart feels incredibly silly considering we already had two Dark Worlds that are very Hotland-like…

Which is when I realized, what if Deltarune Chapters correspond to Undertale areas but in reverse?

The Dark Sanctuary is like Waterfall and before it, TV World is a lot like Hotland, focused on TV-themed minigames controlled by an attention-hungry rectangular Game Show Host.

Cyber World would be the CORE, as the most high-tech themed areas in their respective games

And Queen and Spamton both including elements of Mettaton EX/NEO

Including Spamton NEO having the Yellow Soul Mode.

And Card Castle is the counterpart to New Home. Since these areas are both meant to be, well, a castle and it's surrounding area.

And King obviously being kind of a dark thematic reflection of Asgore.

…That would make Chapter 5 a Snowdin parallel to some degree, then Chapter 6 as a Ruins parallel, leaving Chapter 7 to do something totally off-the-rails and unique and unpredictable… Question is just what would that mean for Chapter 5 to be a "Snowdin Parallel"?

Since the Dark Sanctuary didn't really have water and TV World didn't really have magma-stuff, I don't think that would mean Chapter 5 would necessarily be an ice world, and indeed the only real hint we have to Chapter 5 right now is about a garden.

… It could be a somewhat more light-hearted Chapter after the huge drama-bombs we just had, since Snowdin is probably the most light-hearted and friendly part of Undertale… but there's also plenty of ways for it to be just as lore-heavy and serious and filled with revelations. Since the two things Snowdin was known for is the introduction of the Skeleton Brothers and it's Holiday Theming.

[ghostlyferrettarot]

𓈒✨₊⋆∘˚⊹ ࿔Pick a Picture: 𝖠 romantic scenario in your future with your future partner𓈒✨₊⋆∘˚⊹ ࿔

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

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🫧⋆｡˚Masterlist🫧⋆｡˚ 🫧⋆｡˚Masterlist 2🫧⋆｡˚

𓈒✨₊⋆∘˚⊹ ࿔Pile 1:

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆Cards: The Lovers · Knight of Cups · Six of Cups

Hi pile 1! wow pile 1… what's coming for you is straight out of a movie and im not kidding, im even in awe with this 😭. I get the hint that there's a reunion, but not necessarily with an ex; it could be someone with whom there was a short bond, a connection from the past that never quite blossomed, or even a new person who, when you look into their eyes, you'll feel like they've been in your life before. It's a very intense scene, very much like a romantic movie. I imagine you walking along on random day, lost in your thoughts pile 1, and suddenly you see them. It's not just the shock of meeting each other, it's the emotional connection that unleashes (i even feel like you two will pick the emotional intense situation from the get go). It's as if everything stops for a second. There's going to be a conversation, and probs and exchange of something, this could be info, maybe sudden gift, etc.

This person comes with the Knight of Cups, and that tells me about someone who not only feels deeply, but is also ready to say it. They don't come with games. They come with their heart on their sleeve. And that's where The Lovers comes in. It's not just romance or attraction, it's that moment when both of you feel that this is FINALLY it. You see each other, you choose each other, and this time it's with maturity, with a real desire to build something. You're going to find in each other something that you've been missing for a long time, a sense of belonging in each other <3. Im picking up on the song Ditto by NewJeans 😭, so cute <3.

𓈒✨₊⋆∘˚⊹ ࿔Pile 2:

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆Cards: The Moon · Page of Cups · Two of Pentacles

Hi, pile 2! This pile has a completely different energy than the first. This feels intimate, so to speak. I see a very specific scene as I channel you reading: its a room with low lights (maybe candles, a warm lamp). Outside, it's cold; but you are inside with your partner and they are looking a bit different this time, like you are picking up on them acting weird (?) It's like they're doing a lot of emotional calculations inside (I'm listening: should I tell them? Should I shut up? Is it time? What if everything changes?) but they still make up their mind. They say it. It's something more real, more human. Maybe it's a shy phrase, like: "I don't know when it happened, but I care about you more than I thought." They will be SCARED AF pile 2😭, its cute tbh. And you're going to stay silent for a second, because you feel the same way. Or because you didn't know how much you needed to hear that until you did. It's so cute. It's love in its purest form, like when someone shows you a side of themselves they don't let anyone else see. This person may have been struggling internally to balance all of this. Maybe they're afraid of commitment, or at a point in their life where they don't know how to fit into a relationship. But they still choose to take a chance. Because there's something about you that calms them. That gives them peace. That makes them feel like maybe this time it's worth it for real.

𓈒✨₊⋆∘˚⊹ ࿔Pile 3:

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆Cards: The Chariot · Ace of Wands · Ten of Cups

Hi, Pile 3! Your next partner is going to have that spark that pushes you out of your comfort zone. A person with a "what if we do this?" energy, who proposes something sudden, out of the blue. A getaway, a mini-trip, a different night. And you're going to say yes clearly. You and this person are going to share something so spontaneous and unstructured that you'll have no choice but to show yourselves as you truly are; i feel like you may be soemone who likes to have control over everything, and this person will challenge you to show your more carefree side. And that's where the magic will happen. Im seeing the image of the two of you sitting in a car looking at the city lights from afar, somewhere lost, talking about life. No distractions, no cell phone, no obligations. Just you. You're going to feel as if this is what you were looking for. The Ace of Wands speaks to me of a strong desire, not just physical (although that's also true, obviously), but that desire to be present with the other. What begins as an adventure will transform into something lasting. And i feel like it's not just the place, the trip, or the plan, it's your person. And that person will choose you, every day, even when things get complicated <3, so cute honestly pile 3, let go and let yourself enjoy <3.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆Thanks for reading and let me know if it resonated!⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

[nekonaps0]

Ok. This is the first time in a long time I asked someone for something on Tumblr.

What if the Housewardens/dorm leaders found out that Female MC is the daughter of the goddess of Love and Beauty. Aphrodite!

I’ll totally understand if you don’t feel like doing this. I’m like so nervous. ;-;

Your little high and mighty

✦fem!reader

✦characters: dorm leaders

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle was already struggling with how effortlessly you turned heads. You were always so graceful, eloquent, heart-stoppingly lovely… and he hated how flustered he got in your presence.

But when Crowley casually mentions your divine heritage during a Housewarden meeting, Riddle nearly drops his teacup.

“A-Aphrodite?! You’re her daughter?! That’s why everyone becomes irrational around you…”

He goes red to the tips of his ears.

He spends the next week rereading Every Magical Law About Deities & Demigods, trying not to look at you too long or think about how good you looked the last time you smiled at him.

Eventually, he admits to himself

“It makes sense. You’re love incarnate… no wonder I couldn’t help falling.”

Leona Kingscholar

He always knew there was something dangerous about you. The way you walked, spoke, smirked at him, everything about you screamed temptation. He told himself you were just annoying.

But when Jack slip your parentage after accidental.

Leona stares. Blinks. Scoffs.

“Makes sense. Aphrodite’s kid, huh? Guess that explains why every guy in this school loses their damn mind around you.”

He acts cool, but the knowledge kills him. Now every time he looks at you, he can't help but imagine you lounging on some cloud in a silk robe, dripping in divine perfume.

He starts avoiding you.

…Only to later press you into a wall with a growl:

“Tell me right now, herbivore—did you use your mom’s powers to mess with my head, or is this just how you are?”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul always prided himself on control, charm, and strategy.

So why did he fumble words every time you got close? Why did the lounge fill to bursting on days you worked a shift there?

Then one night, Floyd lets it slip:

“Shrimpy’s a demigod~! Her mama’s that hot love lady~!”

Azul spills his drink. His first reaction is panic.

“Does this mean I signed a business contract with a goddess’s daughter?! Oh Seven…”

He spirals. Hard.

But once he calms down, it all clicks—your allure, your emotional intelligence, your strange way of getting even the most stubborn eel to obey. Eventually, he shyly pulls you aside.

“I… I hope you don’t think I treated you differently because of your heritage. It’s just… you’ve always been radiant.”

Idia Shroud

Idia almost short-circuits. He learns about your divine heritage through an obscure, outdated wiki link Ortho finds—and immediately spirals.

“This is a love interest route I’m not leveled for!! She’s literally part of the Olympic pantheon!”

He becomes too afraid to talk to you, convinced you’re out of his league. He avoids eye contact, stammers more than usual.

Eventually, you confront him with a smile and a soft,

“You don’t have to treat me like a goddess, you know.”

He turns neon pink.

“T-Too late! You’ve already unlocked my heart’s hidden event!”

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is intrigued. A goddess’s daughter? A being who understands the weight of lonely legacy?

He’s not threatened, he’s fascinated. Your aura has always glowed in ways beyond the human, and now that he knows why… he feels closer to you.

“Daughter of Aphrodite… I wonder, does your magic rival mine?”

There’s a strange kinship in your connection now, two ancient bloodlines drawn to one another.

“I, too, know what it means to live among mortals, yet never truly be one of them.”

And when he next kisses your hand, it lingers. Reverent.

“Let us walk this strange mortal world together, my radiant deity.”

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is the most excited of all. When he finds out from Jamil (who knew, but definitely didn’t want to say), Kalim literally gasps and nearly trips over himself.

“That’s AMAZING!! No wonder you’re so kind and beautiful! Your mom’s literally the goddess of love?!”

He starts calling you “goddess” playfully, and showers you in compliments and gifts.

He never treats you differently, but he’s constantly in awe.

“Can I ask what love magic feels like? Do you sparkle? Is there, like, a divine aura?”

The truth is… he’s always been in love with you. He just didn’t realize how fitting that was until now.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil suspected it.

No mortal girl should have skin that glows without highlight or lashes like that naturally beautiful. You were natural perfection, and it irritated him—until it fascinated him.

When your divine lineage becomes public? He’s quiet for a long moment, then simply says:

“So. You’re Aphrodite’s daughter. Hmph. I suppose. It’s explains a lot.”

He plays it off like it doesn’t affect him, but he’s watching you more closely now—studying you. Trying to understand how you walk that fine line between allure and divinity so effortlessly.

Eventually, he pulls you aside.

“Let’s have tea. I want to know more about your mother’s beauty rituals… and you. You fascinate me, potato.”

..............................................................................................................................

[moonstruckme]

would you write a part two to whimsy!reader totally knowing remus’ secret? i feel like r would be so sweet and casual about it that remus would cry

Thanks for requesting!

cw: post-moon werewolf Remus, mention of blood and wounds (no description)

poly!marauders x whimsical!reader ♡ 1.4k words

The boys usually send you away this time of month. They try to be subtle about it, encouraging you to go visit your family or sleep over at a friend’s house, but you’re not one to let the full moon pass you by without notice. It didn’t take long for the pattern to reveal itself. 

Still, you don’t argue when James gifts you tickets for you and a friend to see a band you like out of town. You know they’re all most comfortable doing things the way they always have, and you worry that letting slip what you know would do more harm than good; Remus would be anxious and upset, and the other boys would only be doing more damage control than they’re used to with you around. So, you let the full moon pass you by without complaint. 

The next day, however, when you know James and Sirius will have gone to work and left Remus to rest and heal, you sneak into your apartment. 

The fact of Remus’ ailing is immediately obvious; the boys’ things are strewn all over the place, evidence of James’ and Sirius’ running about without Remus to pick up after them. There’s a pot of half-eaten stew that’s been left to cool and congeal on the stove, an abandoned roll of bandages on the coffee table, and the entire apartment smells like disinfectant and heartache. 

When you find Remus in the bedroom, your heart aches, too. He’s sleeping, but even in rest his face is pinched with discomfort, and there are several bandages visible above where the bedsheets rest halfway up his torso. It’s about what you expected, but it still makes your eyes burn. 

You try to let him sleep as long as possible, working with the environment first. You open a few windows to get out the smell and let in the new day, clean the common spaces, start your lavender incense burning in the bedroom. You’re brewing tea when Remus pads into the kitchen, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

“Oh.” He startles to see you. “You’re back.” 

You’re startled, too. “Hi, I’m sorry,” you say, hurrying over to the windows to shut them. “Did I wake you? Is it too cold in here?” 

“No.” Remus looks wary, watching you flit about the living room like he’s not sure he’s actually woken up. “It’s nice. When did you get home?” 

“Just this morning. I didn’t see the sense in staying another night, and anyway I wanted to be with you.” You make your way back around the room to him, taking his jaw gently in your hand. His skin is warm to the touch. “How are you feeling, lovely?” 

You feel more than see Remus’ face tighten. “I’m alright. How are you?” 

You let him go, giving him a small smile. “Better now that I’m back with you, thanks for asking.” You go back to the stove to stir your pot. “If you’re warm, you don’t need to keep that blanket on for me. I’ve already seen the bandages.” 

You hear his quiet intake of breath, and then a few moments later the sound of the blanket dropping to the floor. 

“Are you in the mood for some tea?” you ask without turning around. “If you want to get back in bed, I could bring it to you there. I don’t imagine standing is very kind to your legs right now.” 

You’ve been reading up on wolf versus human anatomy. If Remus’ transformations work the way you think they do, the bones in his heels and legs would have to either break or otherwise shorten and elongate to create the legs a wolf needs; you can’t imagine it’s a painless process, or that he’s not still feeling the effects of it now, so soon after the moon.

For a dense handful of moments, Remus lingers on the edge of the kitchen. But soon you hear his footsteps, heavier than usual in a way that makes your stomach hurt, go back towards the bedroom. You finish making his tea and bring it to him with a few pieces of his chocolate. 

He’s sitting up at the edge of the bed, propped up on pillows and watching the smoke curl up from your incense with a haunted look in his eyes. 

“Hi,” you say softly. He accepts the tea and chocolate with a quiet thanks. “Do you think it might help things if I opened the curtains? Some sunlight might be good for you.” 

Remus hums his assent. Everything becomes crisper once you let the light in. Remus’ dark circles and the blood visible through his bandages, but also the healthy flush to his cheeks and the strength of his body beneath the dressings. 

“What is this?” Remus asks you, sipping his tea. 

“Bay leaves. It’s for pain relief. It helps more if you put it directly on the wounds, but I didn’t think you’d want to mess with your dressings any more.” 

He nods. Sighs. “Come here, dove. Come sit.” 

You’re eager to comply. You round the bed to avoid crawling over him, settling against the pillows beside your boyfriend with your shoulder touching his. A support, if he needs it. 

“What’s the incense for?” he asks. 

“It’s lavender. It’s also good for pain, but I thought it might help you sleep as well.” 

Remus nods again. He turns to you, his eyes some mixture of distressed and resigned. “Why are you doing all of this?” he asks. “Why did you come home?” 

“Remus,” you say gently, “we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.” 

His brows hook in the middle, a small crumbling. “But you know already.” 

You cradle his face in your hand. Your voice is soft. “Yeah.” 

You pull Remus towards your chest when he starts weeping. He dampens your shirt while you comb your fingers through the hair at his nape, saying nothing. Steam wafts up from his tea until it doesn’t, but that’s okay; you’ll make him another cup when he’s ready. 

James and Sirius are surprised to find you when they come home. 

“Angel—” 

“Shh.” You cover one of Remus’ ears with your hand, his head in your lap. “He’s hardly slept all day.” 

James lowers his voice, setting his bag down on the floor. “When did you get here?” 

“This morning.” 

“But you were supposed to be away until tomorrow afternoon.” Sirius climbs up onto the bed. His expression goes tender as he looks down upon Remus’ sleeping face, and the kiss he presses to your lips is gentle.

You card your hand through Remus’ hair. “I didn’t want to be away from him,” you admit softly. “I understand why you want to do things without me on the night it happens, but I’d like to help before and afterwards at least.” 

Sirius’ brow pinches, his eyes narrowing cautiously. 

“When what happens?” James asks you. 

You speak softly, not wanting the words to potentially agitate Remus in his sleep. “The transformation.” 

There’s a thick pause. 

“Who told you?” Sirius asks. 

“No one had to tell me.” 

There’s a quiet chuckle from the end of the bed. James kicks his shoes off, crawling up the covers to meet you. “I told you she knew.” He gives you a kiss, soft and syrupy sweet. “Thanks for looking after him for us, sweetheart.” 

Remus grunts, coming awake. “James,” he groans. “Your knee is on my leg.” 

“Oh. Sorry, love.” James moves, then bends down to give Remus a kiss of his own. “Did our angel take good care of you today?” 

“Better than this.” 

“That’s the moon talking,” Sirius says flippantly, though the hand he uses to rub Remus’ shoulder is exceedingly gentle. “That’s something you’ll learn as we go along, gorgeous. He loves us, really.” 

You feel your brows pinch. “I thought he was as nice as always today.” 

“Wonder why,” Remus mutters, but the look he gives Sirius is teasing. 

James gives Remus another kiss, standing. “I’ll get you some of your soup.” 

“Oh, I…” You give him a sheepish look. “I washed that down the sink. It got left out, the meat was bad. There’s tea on the stove that should help him heal faster, though, if you want to get some of that.” 

James and Sirius stare at you. 

“Seems like we should’ve brought you in on this a lot sooner,” Sirius says after a moment. 

You shrug. Remus mumbles something that sounds like agreement.

[orellazalonia]

Heart First, Sanity Later

Summary: You, a dangerously chaotic genius with the common sense of a soggy spoon, somehow captures the heart of Bucky Barnes. Despite the constant emotional whiplash, raccoon-related injuries, and deeply cursed inventions, Bucky finds himself falling hard… somewhere between a Capri Sun intervention robot and a vent-related rescue. (Bucky Barnes x Avengers!reader)

Disclaimer: This was based on this post I came across from @ghouljams earlier. Please let me know if you want me to remove any of the information you listed here.

Word Count: 3.4k+

A/N: I had a blast writing this and I am begging on my hands and knees that other people like this as well so I can write more of unhinged reader. Happy reading!

Main Masterlist | Sequel | Earth’s Mightiest Headache Masterlist

Bucky didn’t mean to get attached. In fact, he very specifically meant not to get attached to you.

You, with your wide smile and increasingly concerning decision-making skills. You, who walked into a briefing ten minutes late with a Slurpee, claimed you got “time-displaced,” and then flawlessly identified the year, model, and VIN of a car from a blurry photo Tony handed out. “That’s a 1972 Chevelle SS,” You’d said casually. “But the rims are from a later model. 1976, I think.”

He stared at you. Everyone did.

You slurped. “What?”

Later, Bucky watched you put your phone in the fridge, forget about it, then ask him if he’d “seen a text from 7-Eleven recently.” You didn’t even seem high. That was the worst part. You just… existed like that. All the time.

A living contradiction. A walking cosmic joke. The human version of a browser with 72 tabs open, one playing music, none labeled, and all of them about wildly different topics ranging from “theoretical wormhole stability” to “can ducks feel shame.”

And the worst part? You were insanely good at your job.

When it came to the field, you moved like you’d choreographed every punch in advance. Like your brain hit a switch and rerouted all the loose marbles into sheer precision.

But outside of that? Absolute chaos.

One time you asked if the word “colonel” was a typo because you’d only ever read it.

"Why is it spelled like 'colon-el'?” You’d asked Bucky, eating popcorn with a throwing knife for apparently no reason. “Like. You’re telling me we all just agreed to ignore the 'L'?”

He blinked slowly. “Yes.”

“Sounds fake but okay.”

He wanted to strangle you. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to wrap you in a blanket and take you to a doctor because no one should eat four bananas and not know why their stomach hurts. (“I thought they were like… nature’s snack bars!” You’d wailed from the floor. “Why does nature lie?”)

Still, there was something undeniably magnetic about you. Something that made Bucky keep finding excuses to be around you. Something that made him bite back a smile when you declared, with utter confidence, that “Citizen Kane” was a man’s full name and you “felt bad for him growing up with that.”

Sam had to leave the room. Steve looked like he aged five years. Bucky? He just leaned back in his chair and muttered, “You’re so lucky you’re pretty.”

You beamed. “I know, right?”

And that was just the beginning.

-

Bucky knew it the moment you turned to him in the middle of a high-stakes infiltration and whispered:

“Hey. Do you think raccoons ever get embarrassed?”

He froze mid-step, crouched beside you behind a cluster of storage crates, both of you watching a Hydra compound patrol pace along the wall ahead. Guns primed. Comms live. Two minutes to breach.

You blinked at him, eyes wide and totally serious about the question in the entirely inappropriate setting.

“What?” He hissed.

You frowned thoughtfully, like he was the weird one. “They have those little hands, right? Like… what if one drops its snack in front of another raccoon. Is that, like, raccoon shame? Do they feel judged?”

Bucky stared. He wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating. It had been a long week after all.

Then you added, “Anyway, two guards approaching. They’ll pass each other in about four seconds. I can take the left. You want the one with the scar?”

You didn’t even wait for an answer. Your body vanished into the shadows, clean and calculated. Three seconds later, both guards were unconscious and being gently rolled into the bushes like unwanted pizza boxes.

Bucky just stood there, breathing. You terrified him but not in the way enemies did. No, that would be too simple. Because he could fight Hydra, take a bullet, disarm a bomb, but you?

You were something else. A walking contradiction.

You once tripped over your own shoelaces while explaining quantum theory, then beat four highly trained operatives unconscious with a clipboard. You called a Glock a “grippy lil’ pew stick” but recited the Geneva Convention word-for-word because you “liked bedtime reading.”

And tonight was no different.

By the time the mission was done, the intel recovered, and the building cleared, Bucky was sore, bruised, and fully convinced that he was doomed. Because somewhere between the absurd commentary, the flawless fighting, and the way you wiped blood from your brow and grinned at him like you weren’t covered in chaos, he felt it.

That thing. The awful, nauseating, heart-clutching feeling.

Affection.

It hit him in the middle of your post-mission debrief, which mostly consisted of you sitting on the quinjet floor, drinking chocolate milk out of a thermos and recounting the entire op like it was a cute story you were telling children.

“And then I was like, Bam! right to the neck, and he just went down like a sack of sad potatoes. Did you see that? You saw that, right, Buck? I did the thing with the kick!”

He didn’t answer. He was looking at you like you’d grown a second head or like how you were the only thing stuck in his head these days. God, you were awful.

You had blood on your elbow and half your gear undone. You were sprawled out on the floor like a sleep-deprived gremlin, and when you looked up at him and smiled, like he was the only person in the world who mattered… He was done. Gone.

“You okay there, Grumpypants?” You asked.

“I think I might hate you,” He muttered, sitting down beside you.

You grinned, bumping his shoulder with yours. “That’s fair. I’m an acquired taste. Like oysters. Or war crimes.”

He barked a laugh before he could stop it. You looked so proud.

“I’m serious,” He said, sobering. “You’re gonna get yourself killed one day. You don’t take anything seriously.”

You just stared at him for a moment, and then, quietly, you said, “I take you seriously.”

The jet went quiet.

And Bucky sat very, very still because somehow, that hit harder than any mission ever had.

You weren’t just funny. Or weird. Or brilliant in a way that made his head hurt.

You were kind. Kind in a way he hadn’t felt in years. Like you saw through the Winter Soldier and the scowl and the kill count, and you still chose to sit beside him, sipping chocolate milk and talking about raccoon shame.

And Bucky Barnes, world-weary assassin, trauma-laden super-soldier, turned to you and realized:

He was fucked.

In love with a person who once confidently said “quinoa” was pronounced “kin-oh-ah” and didn’t believe him when he corrected you.

You looked up from your thermos. “You’re doing the staring thing again. Am I bleeding from the ear?”

“No,” Bucky said, voice low. “You’re just…”

“Sexy?” You offered helpfully.

“…Terrifying.”

You winked. “Same difference.”

And Bucky Barnes, against all logic, reason, and survival instinct, knew he was already in too deep.

-

The next mission had gone off without a hitch… at least, for everyone except Bucky.

A few cuts here, a couple of bruises there, but nothing too serious. At least, that’s what he told himself as he sat on the edge of the quinjet, feeling the burn in his shoulder from a bullet graze. But the moment you walked into the medbay with a roll of bandages in your hand, it was like everything inside him twisted in a way he couldn’t explain.

“Okay, Bucky. Time to let the master do her magic,” You said, flashing that grin of yours, the one that always made his heart do weird, involuntary things.

Bucky blinked, trying to shake the disoriented feeling. “You’re the one who got shot today. Why am I the one getting patched up?”

“Because I’m immortal,” You said matter-of-factly. “Also, I’m not bleeding anywhere you can see, so that’s a bonus.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You’re immortal?”

You sat down beside him, rolling your sleeves up. “No, but I like to pretend I am. You know, like a cooler superhero.”

He winced slightly as you poked at his side. “That’s what I’m dealing with, huh?”

“You love it,” You teased, squeezing out some antiseptic onto a cotton pad.

“You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you out of a plane for this,” Bucky muttered, though he couldn’t stop the faint grin from tugging at his lips.

“Not gonna lie, I’d be mad if you did,” You admitted, gently dabbing at his side. “Also, I’d haunt you. I know how to haunt people. I’ve read a lot of books about ghosts.”

He chuckled, despite himself. “Of course you have.”

“Oh, absolutely. I even have a theory about why the Titanic sank, and it’s completely different from the official one. But I’m telling you right now, it’s not what they say.”

Bucky glanced over at you, eyebrow raised. “This I gotta hear.”

You leaned closer, lowering your voice dramatically as if revealing state secrets. “Okay, so. It wasn’t an iceberg that caused the sinking. It was actually the government trying to erase all evidence of the giant squid they were experimenting on, and they blamed it on the iceberg to cover up the real cause.”

Bucky blinked, unsure whether you were serious or not. “Wait, what?” He asked slowly.

You looked at him deadpan. “You didn’t hear the rumors? They found footage, you know. The squid was huge. It even had tentacles.”

He stared at you, speechless.

"Anyway," You continued, as if you hadn’t just suggested the world’s greatest conspiracy, "What we do know is that my bandage technique is flawless. See this?" You lifted a corner of the bandage to show him a perfect wrap around his side.

Bucky blinked. "Did you just distract me with a giant squid theory while you patched me up?"

“Absolutely.” You beamed at him. “Works every time. Just don’t tell anyone you’re in love with me because I’m not responsible for any heart attacks.”

Bucky froze, his heartbeat suddenly in his throat.

You were still so nonchalant. Still so you, so damn confident and so sure of yourself. It took everything in him not to lean in and kiss you right there.

But then, you looked up at him, and for the briefest moment, that smile of yours softened. “You’re good, Bucky,” You said quietly. “You’ve been through more shit than any of us. But you’re still here. That’s something, you know?”

His chest tightened.

“And you know what?” You continued, your voice so much softer now, like a quiet reassurance. “You don’t have to be a soldier all the time. Sometimes, you can just be Bucky.”

He swallowed, looking at you. “And what about you?”

“Oh, me? I’m a mess,” You shrugged, finally looking away, as if it was no big deal. “I’m just here to make the chaos look cute.”

Your eyes flicked back to him, that familiar teasing glint in them. “That’s my secret. You like it.”

Bucky chuckled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He wanted to say something, wanted to admit something. That little voice in his head kept screaming at him to just say it already, but he was scared. He was scared of how deep you had burrowed under his skin, of how easy it was to forget everything else when you were around.

Instead, he just leaned forward and cupped your face, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “You’re… something else, you know that?”

You blinked at him in surprise, your lips parted, as if trying to process the sudden shift in the air. For a moment, there was a palpable tension between the two of you, like the universe was holding its breath, waiting for one of you to do something.

But then, in your usual way, you broke it, shrugging with a grin. “I know. You’re welcome.”

Bucky’s heart did a weird flip, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to truly relax, just a little. He didn’t want to admit it. Not yet. Not even to himself.

But as you leaned in to finish wrapping his side, your hand brushing his skin lightly, he knew he was already in way too deep.

-

The next incident started with a toaster. Not even a cool toaster. Just a boring, silver Stark-issued kitchen appliance that you were suspiciously proud of. You’d taken it apart and rebuilt it but “better.” No one asked you to. No one gave you permission. You just did it.

“Now it sings the SpongeBob theme when your toast is done,” You explained, beaming as you held up a slice of whole wheat like it was a golden ticket.

Bucky stared at you. “You tampered with government property.”

“Enhanced.” You corrected. “And before you ask, no, I will not apologize. This is the future.”

Then it sang. “Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?” BWEEEEEP - Toast done.

Bucky looked like he was praying for divine intervention. “You’re gonna get us all court-martialed over this.”

Two hours later, you were banned from the kitchen, which didn’t stop you from relocating to the common area with your newest project: building what you claimed was a “mousetrap but for anxiety.”

It was made of pipe cleaners, glow sticks, and what might’ve been a dismantled Roomba.

“I call her Deborah,” You said, gently stroking it. “She senses emotional instability and gives you a juice box.”

As if on cue, it whirred over to Bucky, bumped into his leg, and slowly offered him a Capri Sun.

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I’m not drinking that.”

“Then she thinks you’re too far gone. She’s very wise.”

Steve walked in, surveyed the scene, and simply turned around without speaking. He didn’t even ask anymore.

Later that night, Bucky caught you in the hallway attempting to climb into the ceiling with a flashlight between your teeth and a jar of pickles under your arm.

“Do I want to know?” He asked, exhausted.

You paused halfway into a vent, dropping the flashlight briefly. “Depends. Do you believe in ceiling gremlins?”

“No.”

“Then I’m doing taxes.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Please. I’m begging you. Come down.”

You stared at him for a long moment, then slowly slid back out like a raccoon emerging from a trash can. “Okay. But only because you asked nicely and not because I got stuck.”

You had absolutely gotten stuck. And the worst part? He was smitten.

Every time you did something completely absurd, which was always, he found himself watching you a little too long, smiling a little too much, wondering what the hell you were going to do next and why it made his chest ache in a weirdly pleasant way.

Even now, covered in ceiling dust and holding a pickle jar, you looked up at him with that infuriatingly endearing grin.

“You’re in love with me,” You stated confidently.

Bucky blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” You popped a pickle in your mouth. “You’ve got that look. Like a grumpy cat who accidentally cuddled someone and doesn’t want to admit it.”

“I do not look like-“

“It's okay. You don’t have to say it.” You patted his chest affectionately. “Your body language screams ‘emotionally unavailable man finds chaotic cryptid and feels things.’”

“I am not emotionally unavailable.”

“You have a go bag, Bucky.”

“…That’s standard protocol.”

“Your toothbrush is still in the packaging.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. You’d won. Again.

“You’re gonna kiss me one day,” You said as you walked past him, pickle jar under one arm, flashlight in your other hand. “And when you do, I’m gonna be so smug you’ll try to throw yourself off the building.”

Bucky stood there in the hall, alone, heart doing its dumb little thudding thing. He hated you. He adored you. And he was never getting that toothbrush insult out of his head.

-

When the big moment happened, It wasn’t a big mission. It wasn’t even a real mission. It was just supposed to be recon.

And yet somehow, you were sitting on the floor of a dusty, abandoned warehouse with a concussion, holding a broken walkie-talkie like it personally betrayed you.

“Okay, but in my defense,” You slurred slightly, “I didn’t know the raccoon had a knife.”

Bucky stared at you, expression unreadable, as blood dripped slowly from your temple.

“You ran into an unmarked building alone, set off three alarms, fell through a skylight, and got jumped by wildlife.”

You held up a finger. “Armed wildlife.”

He ran a hand down his face.

“I swear to God, you are one poorly timed pun away from getting locked in a broom closet until the end of time.”

You blinked up at him. “Kinky.”

He turned away so fast you could almost hear his brain blue-screen. “Jesus Christ.”

But when he looked back at you: your lip bloodied, eyes dazed, hair full of insulation from where you’d crashed through the ceiling like a chaotic Christmas angel, something in his chest snapped.

You were always like this. Impossible. Endearing. Brilliant in the most horrifying ways. A human Wikipedia article with a death wish and a spark in your eyes that made him forget, just for a second, that the world was awful.

And that spark was flickering. Just a little. And he hated it.

“You can’t keep doing this,” He began, voice tight. “You can’t keep treating your life like it’s expendable.”

You blinked slowly. “That sounds fake. I’m clearly immortal.”

“I’m serious.” He crouched in front of you, fists clenched. “You run into every situation like you’re bulletproof, and you’re not. One day, I’m not gonna be there to drag your dumbass out of a flaming building or disarm a guy who has a bazooka made of forks or- or whatever the hell today was!”

“It was a raccoon with a grudge.”

“That’s not a thing!”

You stared at him in silence for a beat, then said, very softly, “You’re worried about me.”

He froze.

“I’m always worried about you,” He said, almost too quiet to hear. “You think I wake up every day wondering what country I’ll have to fly to because you thought jumping off a roof would ‘probably be fine’ if you landed in a bush?!”

You tilted your head. “It was a very fluffy bush.”

”I love you, you absolute menace!”

Silence. You blinked. Then he blinked. Somewhere in the warehouse, a raccoon chittered menacingly.

“…You love me?” You echoed, like he’d just said he wanted to marry a zucchini.

Bucky looked like he might actually combust. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“Say it like what?”

“Like I love you. Which I do. But I was gonna do it after, like… dinner. Or when you weren’t bleeding.”

“Is this why you made me tea every time I electrocuted myself?”

“Yes!”

“And why you punched that guy who called me a liability?”

“Also yes!”

“And why you didn’t kill me when I installed motion sensors in the hallway and forgot to tell anyone?”

“I almost killed you.”

You were quiet for a long moment. Then: “Okay.”

He blinked. “Okay?”

You nodded, still loopy but smiling now. “Okay. I love you too.”

He stared. “You do?”

“Yeah. I mean, why else would I let you eat the last cookie that one time? Or give Deborah full permission to follow you around and scan your emotional damage like a clingy Roomba?”

He laughed, just once, short and stunned.

You leaned forward and poked his chest with one finger. “Also, I have a very deep fondness for emotionally repressed war criminals. It’s kind of my thing.”

Bucky groaned. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet. You’re in love with me.”

“I’m regretting it deeply.”

“No you’re not.” You smiled that crooked, chaotic smile that had ruined his life in the best way.

And despite everything, the dust, the blood, the deeply traumatized raccoon now watching you both from the shadows, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was gentle. Just for a second. As if to say, Yes. You’re chaos incarnate. But you’re mine.

When he pulled back, it was silent for a moment. Both of you looking in each other’s eyes before you whispered, “Did you just kiss me in front of a knife raccoon?”

Bucky exhaled slowly, already regretting all his life choices. “God help me. I did.”

[fizz-pop-thwip]

I struggle thinking about non consensual human experimentation as a whole, but what happened to Bucky really it does just make me sick.

To start, think of how his stomach dropped when he fell from the train, the fucking fear knowing you're dead. You have 2 seconds and then your dead, this is it.

Then you wake up to 1) being alive, horrifically unaware of the 70 years of hell ahead of you and 2) your arm being not only surgically removed but replaced with a metal arm, a foreign body, a parasite. You fight because what else are you ment to do? But you fall unconscious again.

You wake up to days and days of torment and torture and slowly loose hope that it will ever end, that you'll ever be saved. He didn't know that Steve was dead, how long did he yearn for Steve to find him? How mad did he get? Did he punch the wall, did he scream? Did they have to sedate him because of just how psychotic that made him? How fucking manic he would go?

How long till he lost all feeling, all emotion and hope?

When they started putting him in the chair, did he scream and cry? Did he beg for anything else? Any thing, anything, fucking anything. Did he beg for death? Did he feel himself slowly lose all of his memory, did he sob when he first couldn't picture Steve's face, or when he could remember the most important person in the world, but not a name or a background or a face, not a crumb.

The first time he's put in cryo freeze, does he remember his reflection? Seconds before he fell unconscious, never knowing how long it would be before he woke up again. Did he wake up, begging to just be put back in, the closest fate to death he could ever achieve? The closest thing to mercy? Does he catch himself falling asleep at night and wake up in tears, not even sure if it's been 20 minutes of 20 years.

Did his crys for help fall on the shiney leather shoes of scientists who showed no emotion, did he question if he was even human to begin with? Surely a human would be treated with even a fraction of care. No one treated like this was born from a mother, no one treated like this was ever looked at with maternal love.

He stopped feeling like a person, he didn't even remember he was a person. When things seeped though it just hurt, they hurt him, it made it worse. So he stopped it, he wouldn't let himself. It was impossible to live. He had no coping mechanisms, no outlet, he would show any signs of struggle and be hurt for showing humanity. He had to be what they wanted.

Even after he was broken in, no crying anymore. No begging for mercy. Did he spend his nights awake, just TRYING to remember what he forgot, FEELING the missing spots in his mind? Did he hold that metal arm close because he can't even remember how he got it anymore, all he knows is it makes his shoulders ache.

He was completely and utterly trapped, the more he suppressed, even the minor shards he remembered, the more mania he would experience.

Even once he's free, how do you come back from that, even if it was just a mental thing, the physical, real DAMAGE to his brain was enough to make him never heal again. Bucky is a walking fucking miracle and maybe THE survivor.

He is going to have memory problems, severly. He is going to have intense PTSD flashbacks, total hallucination level, breakdowns. Seriously, this level of trauma is NEVER leaving him, not fully. Phantom pains, endless nightmares, coping mechanisms that don't make sense but comfort him none the less.

He's going to have periods of times where he can't even stand being touched, not Steve, not anyone. Weeks where he can't shower or move out of a space his brain has deemed safe for fear of being hurt. Scratches at the seam between his flesh and the metal of arm, wanting it off, wanting it away from him. Again does it necessarily make sense logically? NO!! but does he feel it 100%? Yes!!

He gets better, his bad periods get less intense, more far in between but they never fully go away. As fuckimg depressing as it is, hydra made a permanent mark on his psyche. It's FUCKED.

Gods strongest soldier is Bucky Barnes.

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

I just reread The Hunger Games for the first time since I was 12 in preparation for reading Sunrise on the Reaping. Here is everything I had totally forgotten about since I am now 25:

-that Peeta lost a fucking lEG to the mutts and has a fake leg for the rest of the series

-they had fucking night vision sunglasses in the arena

-Rue and Katniss were only allies for a day :(

-The mutts slowly eat Cato for the entire night because he was wearing invisible body armor, like that scene was horrific. It's bad in the movie, it's like 2000% worse in this book. The entire night, Peeta is bleeding out while Cato slowly gets chewed. He fights the mutts for an hour before he goes down, I can't even imagine.

-Thresh was chilling in a random field part of the arena we never see for the whole Games

-I finished the book and still don't know Foxface's name.

-Gale is not annoying in book 1, but he's so annoying in book 2. Like the entire first part of the book is Katniss worrying about shit, things getting way worse in District 12, and Gale being a little bitch. I don't know why I can't get past his utter inability to make space for her experience in the games.

-Kinda funny Peeta gets a debilitating leg wound twice in one Hunger Games

-I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT MADGE AND I'M OBSESSED WITH HER??? SHE GAVE THE PIN LIKE WHAT AN ICON.

-That the disabled boy from District Nine lives for so long.

-That Seneca Crane barely exists, all he does is get mentioned twice, fuck up IMMENSELY, and get murdered.

-That Katniss's prep team were just as if not more important in humanizing the capital citizens as Effie. God, that scene in octavia where they dress Katniss in her wedding dress for her interview. Cinna has talked to them because last time they were crying and making Katniss console them about her death. This scene when Octavia cries, Venia sends her out. Flavius makes it mostly through then starts crying and Venia finishes by herself silently, something that the prep team never is. Then she grabs Katniss' hands and tells Katniss it was an honor to make her look her best. I fully cried. They seem silly and foolish when we meet them before, but they see Katniss as a person who deserves better. As soon as they were corrected by Cinna, they immediately change their behavior and treat her as he asked. It's just such a human moment for them and for Katniss, who has always seen them as they see her, uneducated and strange.

-That Suzanne somehow convinced us frosting is the same as camoflage.

-That all the capital food sounds so good.

-I love the moment with Peeta being bad at hunting with Katniss because he's loud in the woods. I think it's just her most empathetic moment. It's like, the biggest contrast between him and Gale, right, he doesn't fit in her world, and she's annoyed with him. Instead of taking it personally he tells her to have him collect herbs and berries instead and even makes a joke about it. I think she even thinks like some guys would've taken it personally but not Peeta. It makes me think about how Gale would've taken it so personally. And then right after she thinks about how he went along with her and was making concessions for her and agrees to go back to the cave instead of sleeping in a tree like she wants. It's just so empathetic of her and she's like, a character who thinks she's so unempathetic. But her thoughts always are.

-How literally obvious it was all the victors were working to save Katniss and Peeta and Katniss was still like what's the ulterior motive here huh? Do we all just think Peeta is the best, because that makes sense. Just funny, like it's almost exactly the same as the first book where as the reader it's hard to see Peeta as anything but truly head over heels for Katniss, whereas she just thinks he might be trying to kill her.

-Mags is barely there and yet I remember her so well. Same with Wiress honestly.

-Didn't remember Finnick and Johanna being as good of friends as they were. When they called for each other on the beach, or checked in with each other- I am desperate to know their friendship backstory.

-Also desperate to know how Haymitch and Johanna's convo went when he told her she had to fetch Wiress and Beetee in order for Katniss to trust her, what a guy. What a conversation to be a fly on the wall for.

-Cashmere and Gloss, what is up guys, worst careers of all time there, that cornucopia attack was so bad. We're sneak attacking WIRESS??? Please.

-Even after Haymitch explains what happened during Beetee's plan, I still have no idea. Wire is cut. I assume the plan won't work. But Beetee actually only wanted to fry the forcefield. Why separate them all like that? So confused. ALSO WHERE DID PEETA GO AND HOW DID HE END UP THERE? Somewhere off fighting Brutus but not with Finnick, I am still baffled by this scene. Katniss sees Finnick and Enobaria come out of the jungle together at one point and I am endlessly fascinated by that, and by Enobaria as a character. Enobaria girl, what is up with you? Not in on the revolution but so ready for the capital kids to compete in games, please tell me more.

-They rewatch old games at one point: has no one noticed you can't watch game 10? I wonder about this all the time.

-Totally forgot about Chaff and Seeder and I miss them so much??? Seeder deserves the world okay. AND STOP KILLING HAYMITCH’s BEST FRIENDS. I wonder what changed, when Haymitch originally suggests Chaff and Seeder to Katniss as allies. But later he forces Finnick and Johanna on her, not them. Why? I assume they were in on the revolution?

- I forgot about the female morphing who dies for Peeta. Her death was so beautiful, and the way he sent her off really is what Katniss sees in him that she can’t see in herself: that deep down goodness. She sent Rue off that way first.

-Also still has me giggling kicking my feet that the entire rebellion plan hinged on keeping Peeta alive because Haymitch said Katniss wouldn’t work with anyone if he died. All these adults trying to stage a revolution and Haymitch slams his hands on the war table to be like "You gotta save her boyfriend or the revolution is over."

-ALSO giggling kicking my feet over Katniss suspiciously trying to figure out why everyone is keeping Peeta alive and she’s pretty sure it’s because they all see how good he is, like no girl you’re down bad.

-Then Haymitch is tragically proven right by Katniss’ attitude when she gets to 13. She said she needs him, then is instantly proven right lol it's not funny.

-(this is dark but how hard do we think Gale tried to get ANY merchants out of 12, because I think it wasn’t hard AT ALL).

-Barely any of Catching Fire takes place in the arena at all. I kept updating my mom, showing her where I was in the book and telling her I still wasn't at the arena yet.

-Gale drove me inSANE in Mockingjay. He was being normal, helpful even and then he would make some absurd comment to Katniss about her feelings for him. Dude. You are talking to the walking embodiment of PTSD, she's tOO BUSY FOR YOU. This clearly is not the time. And it would be so condescending, like "I wouldn't stand a chance if this happened" like telling her about her feelings and how she'd react oh it made me mad.

-Also, again, obsessed with Katniss's prep team. Oh my god I love what they represent. Gale arguing with Katniss over how she can defend them?? Infuriating. Like, you weren't there dude what do you know? He was just so condescending. Also Ocatvia being so young really hurt me. Posy telling her she'd be beautiful any color she was and Gale acting like they were normal to help Katniss, ugh, top five Gale moments, more of the prep team.

-Squad 451, especially Pollux and Castor, I love you and miss you. Icons I forgot about all of them literally. Castor's story of how it took five years for their family to buy Pollux's way out of the sewers??? How many more people are like that in the capitol? What did Pollux do to become an avox? I want to know more.

-I especially forgot and missed Messalla. There were so many more capitol rebels who were working on the front lines than I think I remember, and they highlighted that silly comment Messalla made about the apartment value right before all the skin was melted off of him like a human candle. Horrifying. I really like that they made it clear everyone suffers under a regime like that, even if it's different, and solidarity is important.

-Something about the way Haymitch and Katniss talk to each other just gets me. Them both accusing each other for being the reason they lost Peeta and then forgiving each other? Also the way he like, in the background staunchly defends and works to help Peeta recover while Katniss is like wandering around or in district 2? Obsessed. They are like the same person so they are simultaneously able to hold each other to a higher standard than they hold themselves, but also able to forgive each other more than they can forgive themselves. You get what I'm saying???

-Johanna and Katniss roommates training montage when? Forgot all about it, I don't even remember liking Johanna that much the first time. But the way she so matter of factly cuts to the root of the problem every time; telling Katniss about her and Peeta's time being tortured when Katniss asks, answering Peeta's questions about why Gale wouldn't have believed he'd be like that if he hadn't seen it himself: that he's the evil mutt version, not Katniss. I was like oh, the value of that honestly for Katniss who cannot read into anything to save her life, and for Peeta who can't tell what's real, is monumental.

-Also Gale made that comment about feeling the same type of anger that Peeta was when Katniss was in the first Hunger Games; wild. Like, that comment took me so aback I had to read it multiple times. Like, he couldn't really be telling her he was feeling homicidal rage at watching her kiss another boy in the TELEVISED MURDER GAMES. When I catch that man. He's a great character and he's realistic and honest, but god he just says all the wrong things all the time.

-Darius the Peacekeeper. Talk about a guy that haunts the narrative, I feel like this guy was in the back more than Katniss' dad. Peeta's description of his death will stick with me forever now, I had forgotten it!! Thanks!!!

This is getting too long and I have so many thoughts but: rereading childhood books that hold up is a WILD ride. Recommend me your everlark fanfictions, or even hayffie. I'm in a THG vibe now.

[yandere--stuck]

NEED to know your thoughts on a yandere bill cipher

⚠️ Listen, pal, I KNOW why you're reading this. You've got a crush on YOURS TRULY! That's right, buddy, the cat's outta the bag! Well, not like the cat was ever really in the bag to begin with. What? Didn't think my all-seeing eye would spy you making goo-goo eyes at artistic depictions of me? AHAHA, aw, hey! Nothing to be embarrassed about. It's not like I can blame you, I mean, have you met me? A winning personality, great sense of humor, beautiful singing voice - I'm a total catch! And between you and me, you have better taste than the rest of your species’ population.

👁 There are probably numerous reason why you like stuff like this: The obsession, the possessive behavior, the VIOLENCE. Sure sounds like romance to ME! But as for you… Is it the abandonment issues? Lack of validation in your life? Feeling misunderstood and ostracized by the world? Loneliness? A desire for an escape into a fictional world? Or are you like me? Is romance just no good without the true passion of twisted devotion and obsession? There's no need to LIE! We're kindred spirits, you and I.

⚠️ I know just how you feel. You've been kicked down, laughed at, and made to feel small. You've gone unappreciated by blind MORONS who wouldn't know greatness if it melted their eyeballs out their ears. Because you are MEANT for greatness. You are meant for something more, and I bet it burns you to know that. That you're better than all of them. That they're nothing without you, and they DESERVE nothing. They deserve to BE nothing. I know just how you feel because I was in your place. Surrounded by flat minds in a flat world with flat dreams. HA, and I sure showed them. WHO'S LAUGHING NOW, HUH? ME!!!!!!

👁 The point is, I know you. I've had my eye on you for quite a while, kid. Q U I T E A W H I L E. And might I say, out of all the flesh bags that have clogged my vision over the centuries, YOU'RE clearly the best looking outta all of ‘em, hot stuff. But looks aren't everything, of course! You've got a personality to match. Gotta admit, it's cute how you get so invested in your interests, the little hobbies you pick up, just watching you go about your day is like the universe’s greatest reality TV show starring my favorite person in the multiverse! OH, I could just decaptiate you and nuzzle your fleshy little head in an approximation of a kiss right now!!!

⚠️ So, c'mon, just let me in. Shake my hand! Let's make a deal. No matter how big or small! And it’s not just for the purpose of liberating your dimension, no. I want to really get under your skin. To feel what it's like to be in the body of my favorite person. As close as two beings can get, closer than you can get with unworthy specimens of your own kind, more intimate than any experience in the world. I want to be that close to you. Because you're mine. You're MY HUMAN and NOTHING WILL CHANGE THAT. Y'HEAR ME?

👁 So, you might as well accept that you and me are destined, kid. The signs are all there. So, if I were you (and I could be, if you'd just let me), I'd do this the easy way. Because right now, there's two ways this can go down. The easy way: You summon me, and we make a deal. Anything your precious human heart desires - and more! You'll be my precious human pet, my puppet, my toy. Mine to own and have rule beside me! You'll prove everyone who put you down wrong! Anything you want - love, money, fame, worship, vengeance - it'll all be yours, and I'll give it to you. Because I want you to be happy. Because I want what's best for you. Because I’M the only one who actually cares about you. Everything you wanted will be yours. And there'll be an eternal party to celebrate our eternal love… Or, you could do this the hard way. Cause I'm gettin’ outta here one way or another. And when I do, well… I don't think you'd like being locked up in The Love Cage to be TORTURED until you reciprocate my feelings and see the light. I'd say I wouldn't want to, but that'd be lying. So, it's probably not a good idea to give me more of a reason to. So, whaddaya say? You know you deserve the best. Shake my hand and join the winning team. Either way, you're mine.