#And was quite horrible in many ways obviously

[indie-ttrpg-of-the-week]

Apocalypse World

Did you know that some early PBTA games used to have *Blank* world as a naming scheme? it never really caught on

Touchstones: Fallout, Mad Max

Genre: Post-Apocalypse, Drama

What is this game?: Apocalypse World is a roleplay focused post-apocalyptic roleplaying game, its also the game that spawned the very popular PBTA framework

CWs: Apocalypse world deals with many dark themes, it's considered an "R-Rated" game citing Language, Sex, and Violence, it also features Mind control, mentions of drug use, and general post-apocalyptic horribleness, however I will attempt to stray away from those themes if possible

How's the gameplay?: OK, I'll likely actually link back to this review a few more times as we talk about other PBTA games, just so we can skip explaining the PBTA gameplay every time, so we're gonna try to be pretty thorough this time Apocalypse World's primary mechanic focuses on the use of Moves, Playbooks, and a 2d6 resolution system, where 1-6 is a miss, 7-9 is a weak hit, and 10-12 is a Strong hit, however your roll will always progress the story in some way, this way even failure can be fun! Moves trigger when doing specific actions, and they all interact with mechanics in some way, the prototypical move in Apocalypse world reads like this: "When Narrative trigger: gameplay effect", then this will either help you with a roll around the gameplay effect, or have you roll for a new gameplay effect, whereupon it'll read like this: "On a 1-6, Failure with consequences, on a 7-9 Success with Consequences, on a 10-12 Success with no consequences" Moves will usually add a stat to them, Apocalypse world's stats are Cool, Hard, Hot, Sharp, Weird, and HX, HX being an asymmetrical stat determining your relationship with other characters.

Playbooks are your character's narrative role, it will give your characters their narrative abilities, gameplay moves, relationships, appearances, basically everything about your character beyond things such as name (and even then, some games remove THAT distinction too), you pick one at the start and generally stick with them the whole game, think of it as a class, in Apocalypse World specifically every playbook has a "Special", a move that generally triggers when characters have sex, this might seem like the type of thing that other games in the framework dumpster pretty quick, but you'd be surprised it actually took a bit for people to get rid of that one

What's the setting (If any) like?: It has one Ok, in all seriousness, Apocalypse World's setting assumes you're playing in an edgy, presumably nuclear, mad max inspired post apocalypse, characters are grimy, aesthetics are leathery and gritty, mutations are common, and shit's BAD. Otherwise, feel free to work on the specifics, maybe you just want to play 1-to-1 fallout, or maybe you want to create your own fully original apocalyptic version of The Butt, Coventry, UK

What's the tone?: Dark. Apocalypse World makes it very clear that the world sucks, and the characters (probably) suck, while you could play a ragtag group of do-gooders, the game assumes a morally gray cast in a world that is actively hostile towards them. Apocalypse World's tone is, not for the faint of heart

Session length: Variable but 3 hours is usually enough to do quite a bit

Number of Players:  3 Minimum, but obviously more can help

Malleability: Apocalypse World's setting is generic to non existant, letting you play a ton of post apocalyptic settings, while branded apocalypses like Fallout or Mad Max might be difficult due to the inclusion of overt supernatural elements, you could really do any nuclear apocalyptic setting within this framework.

Resources: Apocalypse World has quite a few resources just due to being one of the oldest PBTA games, a google sheet exists, I've seen some short scenarios, and the game provides you with Move and Playbook cheat sheets, fan playbooks also exist and there's some pretty good ones if you look around enough, it's not a lot but it's enough for what the game is And here's the big cheese! While most modern PBTA design comes from Monsterhearts and Masks, this is the game that started it all, its gritty and very rough around the edges, but I still really like it

[littlebittyhollowbugs]

They drive me insaaaaaaane !!!!!!!!!!!!

[statementlou]

.

[unoislazy]

I lied to all of you, Hiccup later, Mizu now!

Spar With Me

Mizu x Reader

Disclaimer; Possible spoilers.

Mizu will be referred to as “he/him” since the reader won’t know her secret at this point in time.

I can’t guarantee this will be completely in character, I’m still learning more about the characters so bear with me.

Part Two

Part Three

————————————————————

You had been traveling alongside Mizu and Ringo for a fair amount of time. You had been haphazardly picked up along the way, very much to Mizu’s dismay. The only reason you were allowed to tag along was your fighting skills. Your skills were no wear near Mizu’s level, not many people would be, but you were able to do enough that if the need arose, you’d be able to form some sort of protection for yourself and possibly Ringo.

But you wanted to learn more.

You didn’t want to do like Ringo and become a Samurai, it should be clear to anyone that Mizu was not a samurai, you wanted to learn how to fight. Throughout your travels with the two you watched how the man practically danced with a sword, the elegance as he leapt through the air and sliced up men with ease. The sword seems to be a sort of extension of him, of his arm, or his heart. When he wielded the sword it was like they were connected more than just physically.

You didn’t understand it well but you wanted to learn.

You had your reasons for wanting to fight. You didn’t want to learn in the name of tyranny or even greed, you wanted to learn to prevent a situation from happening ever again.

When you were younger, you certainly weren’t the most popular kid in your village. You never truly did much to attract attention so people often never really batted an eye to your presence. However, that meant no one truly noticed when you would walk around with several visible injuries some days after being picked on by some of the other village kids.

They didn’t pick on you for any other reason than they were bored and they knew they wouldn’t face any consequences if they went after you.

And they were right.

You tried your hardest to fight back but they were always a step ahead of you. So from then on you knew you wanted to learn how to fight, if not to protect yourself then maybe to have the hopes of one day protecting someone else.

You all continued to travel in complete silence, the snow lightly crunching beneath yours and Mizu’s feet. The only thing giving away Ringo's position was the bell that was wrapped around his foot. You looked down at his bell and smiled, it was almost like putting a collar on a pet, it was kind of funny to you. Ringo turned to you, noticing you looking at the bell and he excitedly smiled.

“Do you like it? Master gave it to me, he says I’m too sneaky so now he knows where I am at all times!” He loudly exclaimed, you think he was trying to whisper but he was obviously doing horribly at it. Mizu, who was walking a few steps ahead of you two, gave you a slight glance over the shoulder. You didn’t really notice as you were still smiling at Ringo, you enjoyed his ever optimistic demeanor on everything, it was so different from everyone else’s dreary lives and it gave you a reason to smile.

Ringo leaned over to you, trying his best to lower his voice but he still said everything quite loud.

“Maybe master will give you one too! That way we can both be sneaky apprentices.” He whispered, causing you to burst out laughing.

“Me? Get a bell?” You laughed before continuing, “I’m not going to call the man my master, I have no reason to.” You stated pretty plainly, which obviously confused Ringo.

“You want to learn how to fight, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“And you want to learn from Mizu, right?”

You nodded your head agreeing with him before realizing what he was getting at.

“So then Mizu is your master!”

“Woah, no way.” You argued, now crossing your arms with your head raised high.

You had your issues with calling some man your master. Especially one that barely gave you the time of day. Plus, if it wasn’t for your persistence and Ringo's persuasion, he would’ve left you on that street corner where he found you.

But he didn’t.

He instead let you travel along like a stray dog, following him around on his dark mission that you felt no need to ask about. You had talked to him maybe a handful of times before but he clearly didn’t want to give you the idea that he wanted you around. You were welcomed here, but with very cold and rigid arms instead of nice warm ones.

You might’ve been following him like a stray dog but you’re no pet.

And so you refuse to get that stupid bell.

“Why don’t you want to be Masters apprentice? I’d say it’s very fun, I get to do stuff for him all the time!” Ringo said, it was obvious he was trying to persuade you in some way.

“Well my friend, I think that position is occupied, number one. And number two, I want to learn how to fight, that’s it. I don’t want to learn the ins and outs of being a samurai. I’m simply hoping Mizu will teach me, as a friend.” You explained, it seemed this finally clicked with Ringo, but then you watched as his face contorted into more confusion by your answer.

Before he could ask, Mizu abruptly turned to the both of you and simply stated,

“It’s getting late, we should rest here.”

You both nodded as Mizu walked off in some random direction with Ringo following him. You however, took a moment to just stare at the already dark night sky. You hadn’t realized just how long you had been traveling, and you were a bit peeved that you had missed seeing the sunset. Although it’s not like you would’ve really been able to see it anyways, you were currently deep into a forest, surrounded by hundreds of trees with no clear direction in any which way.

Speaking of not knowing your direction, you quickly looked back down and spotted Ringo, quickly following after him as to not get left behind. If they had left you you would’ve been screwed, you have no idea where you are, or how to get out of the forest, not to mention there’s usually many dangers in the woods that you’re not yet prepared to deal with.

It didn’t take long for a fire to get set up and for Ringo to start cooking. He might not have made the world's best soba, but you’d argue it was pretty high up there. You and Mizu sat quietly by the fire, not really saying a word to each other as you stared at the scorching flames before you.

You wanted to ask if you could try training, while you’re both not doing anything, you wanted to try.

But you were almost afraid of Mizu. His stoic demeanor often sent shivers down your spine especially when he had such a stern tone of voice.

Well it’s now or never.

“Hey Mizu?” You began. You could see him just barely out of your peripheral vision. He turned his head ever so slightly to look at you, but you didn’t want to look back as you continued,

“Before Ringo finishes the food, would you mind sparring with me?” You asked. Mizu stared at you for a moment before looking back to the tree he had been looking at before. Maybe he was thinking about his answer?

Your eyes slowly crept over to look at him from the side. He didn’t really make a move to give you an answer, he simply sat there, thinking.

“It can double as extra training for you. Obviously not to your level, but you can use me as a warm up.” You persisted, now fully looking at him. You stared at him for a moment, he was probably in the most relaxed position you ever have, or ever would see him in. He rested one of his arms on his knee with his back against the tree trunk that lay behind himself. His dark hair was in its usual top knot and his glasses remained on and pushed up.

You didn’t know why he wore those glasses, you had never seen him take them off, and you had never seen behind them. Maybe he just really enjoyed wearing them, maybe a family heirloom?

Well, from what you knew about the man, his family definitely wasn’t something he’d want to honor with an heirloom. Plus, they seemed more of a newer style of glasses so there goes that idea.

After staring for what was in reality, maybe ten seconds, you looked away. If he wasn’t going to train you then who was, why were you even here if he wasn’t going to give you a chance. Were you seriously just along to be Ringo's makeshift bodyguard? Seriou-

“Fine, get up.”

You looked confused, being snapped out of your thoughts so abruptly had you thinking you completely made up what you thought you just heard.

“Do you want to learn or not?” Mizu asked, now standing before you, looking down at you as he waited for your answer. You nodded eagerly, quickly standing up and following Mizu just a little ways away from the fire.

It wasn’t like the forest was pitch black, you could still see thanks to the bright moonlight, it was just a little bit harder.

Mizu stopped in a little open area, just enough room for a fight to take place. You looked back, seeing that the fire wasn’t too far but It was enough that you couldn’t exactly see what Ringo was doing because of the trees that blocked your vision.

You stood a little ways away from Mizu, getting into a fighting stance, unarmed. You knew how to use a katana and naginata very loosely, but you wanted to just start with hand to hand. You knew Mizu could easily kill you if he wanted to regardless of what the fighting style was, but you trusted him even the slightest bit to not commit to ending your life.

Now you both stood quietly before each other. Both in fighting positions as you waited for the other one to move. If you were to attack first you were far enough away to give Mizu time to counter you. If Mizu attacked first, you might have time to counter or dodge but you weren’t going to get very far.

So, without another thought, you charged at Mizu. He waited for a moment before doing the same, and just as you were about to swing, he threw snow right in your face.

“Hey!” You shouted, wiping the snow out of your eyes before looking up and seeing Mizu sending a punch right for your face. You successfully dodged underneath and swung your leg to send Mizu off balance.

“You must be ready to use all the elements to your advantage.” He instructed, easily jumping out of the way of your kick and backing away. You quickly got up, dodging another one of his kicks before going in for a punch. You sent too much momentum into it which left you way too open and vulnerable leading Mizu to easily knock you off balance.

It was clear he wasn’t going to hurt you, just humiliate you for your lack of understanding of how to fight.

You fell to the ground, looking up at Mizu who was just staring at you, waiting for you to make your next move.

You two continued to fight for some time and you honestly could have sworn that you saw him smile a few times. Sure it might’ve been at your expense but you still felt proud enough to achieve such a feat.

You were slowly but surely getting the hang of it as you went.

Or so you thought.

You had gotten yourself into a position where you had a full plan of attack, but it seemed like Mizu was already eight steps ahead of you because with one simple move, he had knocked you down, now pinning you to the cold and snowy ground.

You struggled beneath his grip, trying to find a way out to attack but it was no use. He was indeed a lot stronger than you.

“Stop fussing, you lost.” He stated with what you could have sworn was a teasing smile. Fighting really brought out a different person in Mizu and honestly you didn’t mind it. It felt as if you two had finally started to get to know each other, even if it was just through a series of dodges and snarky remarks. It took you a few moments to realize he was actually straddling you, very tightly one might add. His hands were firmly holding down your hands and it was clear he was not going to budge.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by the current situation you were in. It was nothing short of humiliating to practically beg to fight someone only to wind up underneath them, but you also couldn’t help but admit you also felt embarrassed for other reasons.

You looked up at him, and it was just then you noticed that his glasses had fallen off. You didn’t know when, you didn’t know where, all you knew was now you were staring at a pair of bright blue eyes that seemed to be watching you in amusement.

He watched as your face changed from a sour expression to one of confusion,

“What’s wrong, can’t handle losing?” He teased, nearing you ever so slightly.

That was until you muttered,

“Your… eyes.”

With those two words, Mizu’s amused expression dropped suddenly and he jumped off of you and faced away in a matter of seconds. He quickly grabbed his glasses that had gotten thrown off during one of his many expert maneuvers.

You sat up, now staring at the back of the makeshift samurai who didn’t utter another word.

You had heard stories of ‘the demon eyes’ when you were a kid, everyone did. You might’ve believed those stories when you were younger but here stands someone with those ‘demon eyes’ and you saw nothing more than just a very scarred individual. Sure, Mizu was scary good at wielding weapons, but that wasn’t some demonic power, that was pure skill, and you admired him for it endlessly despite never wanting to admit that outloud.

You both sat in silence, you leaning on your hands and Mizu, sitting with his legs crossed and his back towards you. After a moment of just sitting you took a breath in, as you did so you noticed Mizu’s head lower ever so slightly as if he was preparing to hear or feel something he had heard before.

Your eyes softened as you stated,

“Your eyes… they’re very pretty.” You complimented. You could see Mizu freeze for a moment as you stood up, walking just up behind him.

You couldn’t imagine the amount of stuff he had gone through throughout his life, having to deal with people treating him differently for something he couldn’t control. You didn’t need his whole life story to know it was probably rough. It didn’t take a genius to know that considering where you are, sitting in the middle of the woods as the man before you continued to try to track down certain people for a reason unbeknownst to you.

Mizu continued to sit in silence as you kneeled down just behind him, you reached out your arm to touch his shoulder but you hesitated for a moment. Maybe you shouldn’t, maybe you should just leave him alone, it’s clear he is not comfortable.

You just wanted to show him some kind of comfort, even if it was just in the sense of one little shoulder touch, so that’s what you did. Your hand ever so gently rested on his shoulder before you quietly muttered,

“I mean it.”

Mizu’s head ever so slightly turned towards your direction, but before he could say or do anything you took your hand off of him and quickly stood up, quietly rushing back to Ringo who was still carefully preparing your food.

It was only a few more minutes before Mizu followed behind you, making his way towards the fire. Neither of you mentioned what had just happened and you continued to sit in silence just as you had done before. It was as if all the progress you had made to getting to know him while fighting, had gone down the drain.

Until you heard him quietly mutter,

“Thank you.”

[mypoisonedvine]

medical play with Jonathan please 🥺🙏🥺 I want him to strap me to a table and experiment to see how many times I can cum

oh FUCK yes. i love medical kink aaaaa

warnings: SMUT 18+ only!!!, implied dark/dubcon, fingering, orgasm control

"This is all routine," he insisted as he finished putting on the latex glove," there's nothing to be nervous about."

You tried to believe him, but it's hard to feel secure when your ankles are up in stirrups. "I-I know, Dr. Crane," you sighed, "but I still am."

He offered a little smile, one obviously intended to lower your defenses. "I can't blame you," he admitted. "Just let me know if anything causes you discomfort, alright?"

You nodded, deciding it would be easier to look away than to watch him reach under the paper 'blanket' draped over your legs.

Fighting the urge to react, you forced yourself to stay still and simply scrunch up your face slightly as you felt his fingers press to your entrance. They spent longer than you expected on the outside, and you could see him looking down at you; you shuddered when you noticed in your peripheral the way he was looking down at you... it made you feel horrible exposed, even if you understood that a visual inspection was a necessary part of this. After all, you'd want your doctor to tell you if something looked wrong down there, right?

But he didn't say anything was wrong-- actually, he hummed a little, in a sort of approving way, as the gloved fingers spread your lips. "Is this okay?" he asked softly, and you nodded slightly.

Only when he raised an eyebrow and looked at your face again did you realize he couldn't see a nod while he was giving you an exam. "Y-yes," you stuttered out, "this is okay."

"Relax," he encouraged you.

"Thanks," you breathed, "it's not that I'm uncomfortable with you, or anything--"

"No, I mean, you need to physically relax," he explained, "for your internal exam."

You shivered slightly. "O-oh... right."

"Just take a deep breath," he suggested, and you nodded before trying it-- but the exhale came out a little sharply as he slid two fingers inside you. "You're clenching on me," he noticed, and something about the way he said it sounded a little wrong... not quite professional enough.

"S-sorry," you mumbled, feeling your face warm up.

He curled the fingers inside you, and you had to bite down on your lip as it made your legs shake. "How does that feel?" he asked, and you hated how close you were to blurting out that it felt good.

"Uhm... it's fine..." you answered quietly instead.

"I'm going to apply a little pressure," he warned you, let me know if you feel anything out of the ordinary.

His other hand laid over you, just above where his fingers reached inside you, and gently pressed down-- well, gently at first. He kept pushing and curling his fingers until you choked out a yelp, unable to stop it, and he looked up at you.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Does that hurt?"

"N-no," you sighed. He did it again, his icy gaze darting instantly to the way your legs quivered.

He moved his fingers, teasing the spot inside you again, and your hips jerked in search of more pleasure as you shut your eyes and realized you couldn't deny anymore what he was doing to you.

"I-I'm sorry," you whined, "I'm so sorry, Doctor Crane, I--"

"It's okay," he breathed, "just relax. Let it happen."

Before you could try to process any of that, he did it again-- and again, and again, stimulating you with exact, clinical precision.

You'd never come so fast-- but then again, you'd never had a professional give you one. Apparently, the right combination of movements can bring it on quickly; so quickly, that before you knew it, you were shaking uncontrollably on the exam table, moaning desperately, a wave of slick heat running down from your entrance and coating both his glove and the sanitary paper beneath you.

"Good, good," he praised coldly, watching the effect his work had on you. He stopped moving his fingers when you passed the peak of it, but didn't take them out, instead just watching you blink your eyes open and catch your breath.

"Doctor, I--" you began nervously, even though you still hadn't decided what to say.

"That was impressive," he offered you with a smile, "and even faster than I expected. You must be quite sensitive."

You blinked at him in shock, confident that none of that was appropriate for an allegedly 'routine' exam. "I don't understand," you breathed.

"You don't need to," he assured, making you gasp as he slowly began to thrust his fingers in and out of you, slowly gaining speed. "You just need to lay back and stay relaxed alright? I'll do the rest."

[asm5129]

I know this is NOT a popular take in the RWBY FNDM but y’all…I love Jaune Arc. He’s such a refreshing, interesting male character.

He’s Ruby’s best friend, and the two of them parallel each other in such FASCINATING ways. I’m planning a full video essay on this but as some examples:

1) They both have hero complexes, obviously.

2) Ruby is a prodigy who earns her place at beacon two years early, while Jaune cheated his way in and needs to work constantly outside of his school training to be anywhere near capable of huntsmen level combat

3) Jaune’s pain is loud and disruptive, Ruby’s pain is quiet and suppressed (examining their respective expressions of pain through the lens of gender expectations is REALLY interesting)

4) Ruby inherits silver eyes, an invaluable tool in fighting Grimm. Jaune inherited a regular sword, heavily outclassed by most of his peers.

5) Ruby made her weapon but modeled it after her mentor, Jaune had a hand-me-down

6) Ruby leads by developing plans and taking action, Jaune leads by supporting his team and bolstering their strengths with his own.

I’m sure there’s more too but those parallels are why their conflicts in vol 9 work so well for me, they are partners in narrative from literally the second episode.

I also just adore the commentary on masculinity with Jaune. From day one he was deconstructing traditional ideas of masculinity and patriarchal concepts of heroism.

The way he has to learn to reject so many of the things that blockbusters with men at the center have been pushing for decades is fantastic. He tried to pursue revenge like John Wick or Iron Man and it went HORRIBLY.

He can fight when necessary but it’s not where his true strength lies and that’s SO COOL for a male character.

I dunno y’all I just think he doesn’t deserve the hate. He doesn’t butt in on other stories nearly as much as people claim—in terms of Ruby, he actually serves her story quite a bit—and he is a character worth following in and of himself.

[alwaysalir]

Since I feel like the only thing I’ve done so far in regards to Bridgerton is rant about it and I do genuinely love it and I am excited for season three so I want to talk about some of my favorite scenes.

The first scene I want to talk about is the one in which I personally fell in love with Colin Bridgerton. In the very first episode, we very quickly see that Penelope is in love with Colin, but the love is unrequited. I feel like unrequited love is such a sticky trope and it’s so easy to mess up and make the object of desire pretty horrible. I actually think the choice to make Colin unaware of Penelope’s feelings is what makes him so endearing. It never feels like he’s taking advantage of her feelings or trying to use them.

You learn very quickly in this scene that Colin is quite fond of Penelope. He lights up when he sees her, even though he’s actually looking for Marina. They are interrupted by Cressida who tries to steal Colin away while also spilling a drink on Penelope.

Colin witnesses this and asks Penelope to dance with him instead. Colin is very sweet in this moment and you can understand why Penelope feels the way she does about him. when I watch the scene for the first time, I was completely unaware of the books and it very much told me that they were end game. While this is very much a moment where Colin is helping Penelope, the thing that is most striking to me is that he is genuinely enjoying himself.

I think this scene sets up their dynamic so well. Yes Colin does not have romantic feelings for Penelope, but it’s very clear that he genuinely cares for her and just enjoys her as a person.  that scene does not come across as him doing her a favor, or an obligation of any sort. It feels very organic and like they are just having fun together like they’ve done so many other times. obviously a lot of this is because of the chemistry between Nicola and Luke, which I can write entire essay about but it’s such a wonderful starting point, and I was completely invested in the relationship from the very first episode

[nyyrami]

MELLOWING ON THE PAST DOES NO ONE ANY GOOD…

𓏲 synopsis. mellowing on the past wasn’t good. shoko most of all knew that. she’d encountered loss time and time again, she couldn’t help but ponder on the dead…

𓏲 tags. wc. 0.9k satoru gojo x reader. reader dies obviously. everyone’s dead. canon timeline kinda. shoko is depressed. horrible mental health. smoking. descriptions of dead body. morgue. angst angst angst. shoko pov. mentions of suguru.

𓏲 a/n. scrolling through Pinterest and thought of this after seeing a sad shoko post. don’t blame me. blame the app…

IN SOME distant fantasy land, shoko married a prince. A prince of some mighty kingdom where he had all the money in the world and all the alcohol she would ever need. In some distant world she lived her best life, doing what she loved best, surrounded by her family, her parents. She would be loved and cared for, safe and content.

In her wildest dreams of course. She would love that fabled life she wanted to so desperately to live. Instead she lived in Tokyo and she was a Jujutsu Sorcerer and she most definitely did not have her family or her parents surrounding her.

She sighed, blowing a puff of grey smoke out of her mouth throwing the shrivelled cigarette into the dustbin. Oh yes. In another life, she would quit her smoking habit. She wouldn’t inhale the toxic fumes any more and she’d be free of her addictions.

Walking towards the sink in the morgue, she wiped the blood of her hands. It stuck underneath her fingernails and permanent shaded her fingers a light red. Forever a reminder of her job.

It could’ve been worser though, she thinks. She could’ve been like satoru or even nanami, dying in action in gruesome horrible ways. Maybe that fate would be better, instead of witnessing the dead corpse of her friends.

You lay on the embalming tables awaiting an autopsy waiting for the cause of your death to be found. It was clear though. The moment Itadori walked into the room carrying your lifeless body, it had been clear what had killed you. The hole where your heart should have been was large, so large she could see the table beneath you.

She looked you over once more before she shook her head. It was comical to say the least, you looked so peaceful, as if you were sleeping. Anyone could’ve mistaken you for resting. Anyone but her. She knew a dead person when she saw one and the blue of your once red lips was clear evidence.

Once, those lips would’ve been curled into a smile. Or they would be cracking a joke with satoru. You’d always been by him. Wherever you went, he followed. From your school days till now, it was clear his infatuation with you was more than just a silly crush.

It had been relieving for shoko when you finally confessed to him. Many years of shipping you together had payed off. Ever since, you’d both been lovesick for eachother. If shoko was being honest, sometimes she was jealous of the love you’d achieved.

If only suguru were there. He would be paying her a 1000¥ now. She pulled the white sheet above your head, refusing to look at your body any longer. It was saddening to say the least but shoko had practically become insensitive to seeing her close ones dead bodies in front of her. Or that’s what she would like to say.

Leaving the cold room, she returned to her office, digging for something in the cupboards. Ah. She pulled away after finding what she was liking for. A long sleek brown bottle anyone could realise harboured alcohol, you could practically see the contents spilling around through the brown transluecent material.

She took a long swig, feeling the burning liquid slide down her throat and settle in her empty stomach. Yes, shoko would like to believe she was insensitive to seeing the death of her loved ones but she would always down the bottle after.

Her eyes hooked on the picture on her desk from her jujutsu high days. Youth was evident and clear on all your faces. Sad that most of the ones in the picture were dead. Maybe it was by coincidence from the horrible settings that she realised that suguru had never been smiling.

His eyes were downcast, the loss of sleep clear in the slight dark circles beneath his eyes and in the mess of his once perfectly kept hair. How did she not realise then that her friend was struggling with something? How did you all not realise it? No, she was lying. You guys did, of course you noticed. But foolishly you just didn’t want to believe it. Believe that maybe your friend felt he wasn’t cut out for this life. It was clear in his reluctance to do anything.

Shoko took another swig of the bottle before setting it down on her oak desk, picking up the picture simultaneously. It was so clear now that he had been doomed from the beginning, suguru geto, the one who consumed curses.

It was no shock when he became one too. Shoko moved towards the window basking in the afternoon light for a few minutes, relishing the brightness of the sun that these days, never seems to come out.

She held the picture up one final time before she used the lighter and set the picture on flame. She watched as the faces of her friends were swallowed by the orange flame, consuming all she loved and leaving only ashes. She too soon blew those tensing ashes into the wind, watching as they flew on a phantom wind.

Turning back to her desk, she took a seat, finally allowing her limbs to rest from a long day. The ache was unbearable. She took another swig of the drink, relishing in the burning feeling. She would’ve liked to believe she was indifferent to seeing death but it would be a lie, one she repeated to herself over and over but she’d carry on drinking the alcohol either way.

©NYYRAMI24 do not copy, repost or plagiarise my work. if you enjoyed a like or reblog would be greatly appreciated.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Those Who Can || integrated Female Air Force series

Introductory part 1: Flintenweiber, or “Rifle Broads”.

Summary: The American War Effort had conceded to the enlistment and commissioning of women into the Air Force at semi-integrated status. Deemed a more reliable if not safer combat post, the going rank of officer in the Air Force was intended to secure fair treatment and combatant status for these women, as it had for their male counterparts. Like most things in war -or life if one is a woman- such recognition must be fought for.

Authors Note: this is an Au, obviously, and I intend for the de-segregation in the force to not be entirely full, in fact in some ways they would mirror that of the Tuskegee Red Tails where they were held back from many opportunities and placed at a disadvantage, to say the least. However, as this is primarily a POW fic that aspect only effects their reception into the Stalag and the timeline of their crashes.

Inspo: thanks to all of y’all who contributed with suggestions and advice on this fic. I want to say that I based a great deal of the brutal treatment and indignity heaped on these fictional OC’s on the true and horrific treatment of the Soviet Female Soldiers taken as POWs. Taking into consideration that American ties would give these OC’s some leverage, I have moderated these horrors if anything, however as I intend for these girls to be some of the first of their kind, they in many ways endure the brunt of the cruel initiation. If you’ve got any questions or suggestions about this, have at the inbox.

Warnings: 18+ for disturbing content. War, brutality, cruelty, and references to sexual violence. Specifics: a woman’s head is forcefully shaved, a woman is kicked to death, a dog turned loose, concentration camps, brief infighting between Soviet’s and Americans, past tense illusions to rape which are underplayed and may be consequently more disturbing to some. Quite angsty ok?? It’s women at war. Rampant misogyny by Nazis.

Familiar faces: Gale Cleven, Benny Demarco, John Brady, “Hambone” Hamilton

Original Characters: Lt. Maureen Kendeigh (bombardier), Lt. Colonel Ida Brady, Lt. Tallulah Smith 

If Maureen Kendeigh heard the word “degenerate” used one more time in regards to her profession, her sacrifice and skill, -she just might do something regrettable.

By this point she was ready to get off this cattle car and go back to talk with Interrogator Glasses about stupid and unnerving shit like why the clock in the mess hall at Thorpe Abbots had a broken arm. Her distressed inner monologue of “how did he know that??” at the time was preferred to this newest method of demoralization: death by aspersion and suspense.

It was nice to be back with the girls, ones she knew and ones from other squadrons. But that held a misfortune too, the fact that it was just the girls, still not a single male crew member in sight. Apparently the Gestapo and the Luftwaffe were having a spat over who got to keep them, these Flintenweiber: “Rifle Broads”.

In the meantime Maureen and her fellows got punted back and forth between the two institutions like unwanted stepchildren. First the horrible isolation but humane treatment of the Air Force interrogation cells. Then back to the prison where all bets were off and the hope of safety came from a herd-like defense of each other against the ever more erratic guards. In these holdings, if one of their members hadn’t been executed by a pistol to the temple by end of day, it was considered a successful defense by the whole. All other atrocity, indignity and assault were unbearable’s that required bearing for the time being until the Luftwaffe took them back.

And then handed them back over.

And on and on it went.

It was effective, Maureen gave them that, after each hosting by the Gestapo, the girls were softer, tenderized and more susceptible to any deal that might procure them a shred of honor and safety. Only Ida Brady, the most senior amongst them at the incomprehensible rank of Lt. Colonel, had held ranks together, spine of steel and bearing more terrifying than most men’s, she’d fought for every grueling respect of rank they had been afforded. Even if it landed them in harsher conditions, worse interrogations -anything to ensure that what happened to her girls were considered as war crimes against lawful combatants when the time came for justice.

But they’d been collecting the downed girls and holding them apart like prized anomalies while conflicting orders came in from Berlin, and while the Red Cross fussed regarding combatant status. Now they had a tidy number collected, well over fifty by the time Maureen saw Ida Brady pushed into the cell, having been downed with a significant portion of them after Munich.

But now they hadn’t seen Brady in over a day. Not since they’d been loaded on this rail car headed to god knows where by soldiers with the dreaded lightning bolts on their collars.

The SS.

With Brady missing, Maureen supposed that made her and Lieutenant Smith a leader of sorts. Most of her “leading” currently took the form of not responding to a single vile threat or taunt by the guards mingling amongst them in the ever rocking car. Ida would be proud of her emotionless detachment at one guard’s suggestion to let the dog loose and see who it chose to maul.

Lieutenant Smith -tender hearted Tallulah with the bronzed skin and knack with animals that rivaled Snow White’s- had made the cryptic observation in Maureen’s ear that she’d never known a dog could be trained away from the throat to go for the breasts instead.

As of last Sunday they now knew, and none of them were likely to forget.

“I’ll be faster next time,” Smith had mumbled in a simmering rage, “I’ll be faster. I’ll have my fist down that cur’s throat before they finish slipping the leash.”

It was a nice sentiment, would’ve been made more so if Maureen wasn’t so sure it would land dear Smith with a bullet in her head. Would be made more so if Sergeant Forsyth had lived from her injuries long enough to benefit from it. Lots of things would be made nicer by heavier coats and the presence of drinking water.

One of the new ones, a terrified little replacement who wore her ordeal on her face, made the rookie mistake of asking for a drink. She’d been given the predictable initiation of being pissed on by a guard in answer and now she bore her thirst as doggedly as the veterans.

When the train cars rolled to a halt, and the great door was hauled back, sprawling out before them appeared the most idyllic scenery one could ever hope for. A crystalline blue lake, dotted on its border with charming structures adorned with red tile roofs, a quaint church of the same, lush fields and sparkling water and deep forest for miles. Maureen did not think they would haul them so near a town only to execute them. But then what did she know?

Nothing, not even where she was.

When they had lined the girls up, some in worse shape than others and a motley collective group from various military branches, they hauled off Ida Brady to the head of the pack, her bruised face considerably more busted than when she’d been loaded on. Maureen could see her craning her neck as she was drug past, counting down her flyer girls, looking for any missing from the trip.

They were marched, four abreast and with guns at their backs, down a wide and well traversed road into town, past cottages on its outskirts with little garden plots and clothes blowing on the line. Maureen was reminded of the idyllic countryside she had landed in with her chute before being seized and hauled off. There were women and children in row boats on the lake and the path they took through the woods was more peaceful than ominous. A traitorous sort of hope began to bloom in Maureen’s heart.

That was dashed when the tree line broke and out before them stretched what seemed to be miles of wire. And beside it a sign, welcoming them to Ravensbrück -a concentration camp. A camp for civilians, a camp to never return from.

Their new guards were ready for them, smiles on their faces and whips in their hands. Among them were a few remarkable for their sex, they were women too -if women who enjoyed such craft could still be called that. And for all the horror inflicted on them by their male captors so far, there seemed to be a general presentment amongst the arriving girls that the finer arts of terror had not yet been endured.

Standing for hours in the infamous square inside the compound, roll call and registration took on a form of torture yet unheard of. Round and round it went, repetitions of ranks and serials over and over and each time they were met with two alternatives. Renounce the ranks and be admitted as civilians with no further targeted harassment. Or-

“If you insist on being special, we will be forced to make you special.” as one officer put it to Brady’s stone cold face. “Ask your Soviet compatriots, the ones who wanted to be special like you. They claimed to be officers too, and now they service officers in Buchenwald. They have not left their beds in months. Special, no?”

“I’m not ‘claiming’ a goddamn thing.” Brady would go round and round with them in turn and up and down the line was the echo of ranks and serials.

Nothing but ranks and serials.

The minute they dropped one or the other, they’d be freed from this standing purgatory, and they’d be as good as dead. They might wish it were so anyway, if the threat was carried out but they’d suffer as officers, with honor. Whatever that meant this far from home and any appreciation of it. A fresh batch of guards relieved the first and the banter continued, even through roll call of the general camp where a mass of the most miserable specters of female kind poured out of the huts and were made to await the call of their one single number.

A serial for a serial. Maureen would keep hers. By dawn she had kept it, as had all but one of her group, a navy nurse with a broken leg who’d succumbed to the allure of a chair.

Civilian status for a seat.

Maureen thought a drop of water might be her own undoing were it offered, but one look at Smith's cracked yet unmoving lips cemented her in her own determination. As did Ida Brady’s talk, straight back in front of her, trousers bloodied on the inseam but not a cringe to be discerned in her stance.

By morning roll call for the entire camp, their guards were tiring of them, or else thought a new method of persuasion more likely to bring success. Off they were marched to their new billet to “meet their Allies” and what Smith wouldn’t give to have her brass knuckles back when met with a hut full of Soviet soldiers. Females, if females could have shoulders like that. They were impressive women with murder on their faces at the intrusion of a new gang of American blowhards.

“Did you give up already?” The one with the most English taunted and for the first time since capture, Maureen saw Ida Brady’s spine bow backwards just a fraction -a pacifying gesture in the face of the Russian’s nose to nose staredown.

“Hey, we’re not here to make trouble.” she insisted, cool and stern. “Did you?”

“We’d rather die.”

Brady gave a sharp nod, “Then we’re Allies in that, too.”

“Your precious Red Cross won’t come for you here.” That likely verdict seemed to bring the woman satisfaction, and Maureen wondered how many months, weeks, hours of this grueling place it would take before she too took savage satisfaction in another’s misfortune. How long before all better impulse to be glad for others was stamped out and all that was left was crowing self preservation. “You are not the firsts. There were others, Americans, like you, they are now wearing the ink of field whores- or they are dead.”

“One might assume the same of your predecessors.” Brady pointed out mildy, and both groups shifted behind their leaders, ready and tense.

“Anyone who accepts-“ the Russian warned, “-we kill.”

With that incentive clear, a tentative peace was made, which included a few trying to fraternize, converse and share news. There was little that aligned to create any cohesive figure, despite their shared experiences and sufferings.

When night fell they were hauled out for roll call amongst the masses, and together after hours of waiting to be called upon, they answered with their ranks and serials, each in their own language. The Russian who had confronted Brady was beaten so badly she did not rise again after it. The guard left her lying there and asked Brady herself what her occupation was.

“Lt. Colonel in the United States Air Force.”

The unfortunate rookie who had so ill advisedly asked for water on the train stood beside Brady; and got a bullet to the head for her superior’s answer. What Colonel Brady thought of her judgment being given to another did not show, her face white and her lips sealed, only the speckle of blood on her profile stood in stark relief in the early morning.

“Kneel.” a very shiny Luger barrel was pressed, still smoking to Brady’s temple.

She did so, braced for the inevitable execution. A soldier's death, it’s what they’d signed up for. The Kommandant waved over one of the female guards and spoke to her in German. She took off at a run to one of the buildings with a bright smile, and Ida Brady stayed kneeling, the splattered brains of the unfortunate dripping out of her hair and into the leather of her jacket, a mockery of her own upcoming fate.

The female guard returned with scissors. “Your poor hair, so pretty. Now it is ruined.” the Kommandant bemoaned, gloved fingers sliding though Brady’s wet tresses, “See what happens to beauty when you pervert the order of things? Now it must be sacrificed. Perhaps then you will see how ugly you are become.”

Maureen felt Smith’s restraining arm before she had even registered her impulse to charge forward, caught about the middle she strained against her friend's surprising strength and in the end was forced thusly to keep ranks and watch with the rest as the Nazis fucks scalped the Colonel of her femininity with a pair of sheep shears.

Dribbling blood down her face and shaking with rage, Ida was in better shape than her Russian counterpart. When her ordeal was over, she rose again, even if she swayed dangerously upon doing so.

And when asked, she had her serial at the ready.

Crowded back into the hut, Maureen and Smith watched the Russians hopelessly fuss over their insensible leader, knowing all too well how likely it might be that they could be found doing the same tomorrow, in a week’s time, who knew. For now, Brady sank down against the wall with the rest of them, the scowl of her formidable brows deflecting any potential commiserations for her battery.

When the navy nurse was pushed into their hut next evening, a dead silence greeted her. One of the Soviets, a sniper by her markings, came up to her and unceremoniously tore open her shirt. If the girls had doubted the Russian’s warning about “wearing the ink of field whores” upon their skin as mere hyperbole, such speculation was removed. It was a dreadful tattoo, large and damning as was the reaction it elicited amongst the servicewomen.

By the end of the night there were two dead bodies on the hut floor. And it didn’t seem to matter who had killed which. One had died for honor, the other for giving it up. And in the end? Where was this ephemeral honor? Ida Brady could only find it in the tense faces of her girls, lining the room from their places along the wall, waiting for another roll call or worse.

But in war, as in peace, sometimes the dead sent favors and in this instance it came to them with screams of:“Amerikaner Soldat!” in the middle of the night. They were marched out to the square and stood to attention once more in the sweep of the spotlight, all the while were shouts of “Amerikaner Soldat!”

All they knew was the bitter waiting in the gray dawn chill and the choking anticipation of some sick, final joke, or some methodical mass execution. Maureen wished she could knock her shoulder into Ida’s one last time and tell her she’d been a rock -she was a rock- but Brady stood there in front alone, as was her privilege and her curse. Talullah Smith would not meet Maureen’s side eyed glance for a farewell. Maureen wished she had less of a roar inside her, wished she could step off calmly into whatever was on the other side but the idea was repulsive, even after all she’d endured, and she looked about in vain for some semblance of the same revolt on her fellow’s faces.

What came instead was the dreaded whistles and the order to march. They were marched right out of the gates and down the idyllic lane they’d been marched up days ago, back through town to the railway station. There the soldiers herded them back up into a cattle car that smelled more of death than livestock, and then the train pulled away, hurtling south -perhaps the only one to do so with living cargo.

There were no guards inside the car, only the cramped space to keep them docile and the lack of promise that the great door would ever grind open again.

“The hell do you think happened?” Maureen hissed to Ida, finding her superior propped up in the corner in a suspiciously casual pose that she suspected hid a limp and unfathomable fatigue.

“Haven’t got a clue, Kendeigh.”

“Maybe someone got word out.” Maureen suggested, thinking of their predecessors, thinking of the useful dead.

“Or we’re headed to a nice rural dumping ground.” was all Ida would speculate. “Or brothels.” she added after a long minute.

Maureen chewed her cheek and kept peering out the slats at the beautiful countryside flashing past. “Well, at least they’ve ensured you’ll be least wanted of the bunch at such an establishment.” she joked and watched with the careful precision of a trained bombardier as her mean joke landed and Ida Brady’s legendary eyebrow ticked up in something that might have been amused disbelief, had she any energy left for such a display.

“Pistol whipped in the mouth and still no respect for rank, Kendeigh.” Brady observed and it was so like her brother John’s flat lined humor that Mauren’s heart throbbed with something alarmingly akin to sentimentally. For John Brady -and all the other lucky souls still at Thorpe Abbots, God willing. “I’m not laying on any damn beds for them.” Brady suddenly broke the silence again in a low voice, one Maureen knew was meant between officers only.

She pitched her head closer in agreement. “Me either.”

“I don’t care if they shoot me first,” Ida went on, as if reciting it to herself, “-and I don’t care if they shoot all of you first. I’m not going to.”

“Wouldn’t want you to.” Maureen agreed again, vacillating briefly in her intent before proceeding to say, “That Sergeant -she wasn’t your fault. The nurse either.”

“I know that Lieutenant.”

“I know you know,” Maureen muttured, “but some stuff bears repeating. Places like these, we’re liable to lose our bearings without a little repetition.”

“Mm.”

Maureen shuffled beside her and wracked her brain for pleasant conversation, something besides the Soviet girls they’d abandoned and the skeletons they’d seen at Ravensbrück. “Ya know,” she remarked tiredly, “if someone in here’s hydrated enough to pee, I might be ready to drink it.”

Brady slowly turned from her view out the slats to give Maureen a blank faced stare. “Should I make an announcement or are you hoping to keep that between us?”

“Oh hell, Colonel,” Maureen grinned, mischief bubbling to the surface at the first chance, “I wouldn’t trust anyone else but you, liable to get stds from this lot.”

“Kendeigh.” Ida hissed warningly but there was that disbelieving wobble to her stern mouth, “That’s not funny -not with where we’ve come from.”

“It kinda is.”

“It’s not.”

“It is- a little. Admit it, a little.”

“It’s not.” And still her cheeks were pink with suppressed amusement, just like John’s got when Maureen pressed him on a dig about basic training.

“You sure you’re ok?” she ventured again, eyeing Brady’s extensive injuries visible above her clothes.

“Yeah?” Ida looked nonplussed, “I mean -what’re you ranking as ok, these days, Lt. Kendeigh?

“It’s just,” Maureen bit her own busted tongue briefly as a spur to get it out,

“-you’re bleeding a lot, Ida. Couldn’t help but notice.”

Ida Brady didn’t even glance down at her trousers or make a motion to feel her lacerated scalp, instead she answered in the same, almost bored way she always did, “Yeah, Candy, it’s called being a good Catholic.”

Maureen blinked. “Oh. Oh Shit.”

“You know, maybe some of you girls had the right of it,” Ida actually winced before staring back out the slats, “go off and do it ahead, in peacetime. But here I am, twenty eight and as sacrosanct as the Virgin Mary, dropping into occupied territory. What could go wrong!” To her credit, her snort was wonderfully genuine.

Maureen kept after her, “You signed up to fight, to get fought against. We all did -never this.”

“Mm, well, couldn’t choose a better gang to get put down with.” Brady smiled, begrudgingly raising an imaginary glass of her own to Maureen’s already raised one.

“To bitches who bite back.” Maureen toasted.

“To bitches who bite back.”

——————————————————-

Two cases of MIA troubled John Brady the most: Egan, who he had seen jump first after their dispute, and Maureen Kendeigh who he had learned from Blakely had jumped over Bremman. That’s two flyers who should’ve been here by now, before him even, in the case of Kendeigh, and yet they weren’t.

He went round and round the argument with Cleven and Crank and Hambone, all three downed from separate missions yet here together - proving his point. Cleven held staunchly to the belief they were being kept segregated, as befitted their ranks and sex. They could be one sector apart and not hear of them. It was the only hopeful response, it was a leader’s response. There had been women downed before Kendeigh, not many but a few of the escort fighters, and none of them had showed either. Brady wasn’t sure that was a good sign at all.

“So where’s Egan then?” he’d always hit back with, “They mistake his shoulders’ for a dame’s?”

“I dunno John.” Cleven would reply with that newly blank gaze of his somehow enhanced by the twin cuts on his cheeks.

Demarco took Brady aside when he arrived to tell him that whatever had happened to Cleven in interrogation wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t ethical. Those cheek scars weren’t both due to flack. Like a dog with a bone, Brady took this already suspected information about his stoic superior and ran with it, pointing out hotly to an uninterested Demarco, “if it’s happened to Cleven, what about them?”

“What can we do about it?” Was Cleven’s demand that always wrapped up the little circular arguments as they sat huddled in their hut. “Red Cross knows they’re not here, no colored flyers either. They know where they are. What can we do besides ask after them?”

He was right, there wasn’t anything, but still, like a presentiment hung over him, Brady found himself leaning on the wire each time a new batch was marched in, counting heads and scanning faces.

“Ida hasn’t even been shot down, John.” Crank kindly reminded again and again.

“As of two weeks ago.” John snapped.

As of two weeks, and then as of three, and then it became four and -where the hell was Kendeigh? Gale had stopped arguing when the subject came up, apparent but impotent fury slowly racking his wiry frame, face gone wane already above his grimey fleece collar. Winter wasn’t even here and they were fading.

And then it happened, what John had been waiting by the fence for, and boy was there a crush at the wire to see them marched in when they came up the muddy enclosure through the gates.

“The fuck are they bringing the women here for?”

“They don’t belong in here, bastards!”

“Ar’those Brady’s Banshees?”

“They’re not gonna hold ‘em here are they?”

Like he’d been reanimated by the presence of a cause, Major Cleven cut his way through the rabble to the front, addressing the German officer escorting them.

“Hey, hey you can’t bring them in here. They’re women, they belong in their own section.”

“If they are women,” the Commandant pointed out, not unkindly, “then perhaps your country should have recognized that before enlisting them? They belong here.”

Cleven shook his head, vehement in his conventions and rules, “It’s not right, you know it’s not.”

“Then tell your Lt. Colonel to stop fighting for combatant status.” he jerked his chin towards Ida Brady and Gale’s eyes widened at her injuries and tufted hair, “The SS had them tucked away at our most prestigious female camp. But they would not accept. They want to be men.”

“Combatants!” Gale argued the point Ida had been making since her feet touched occupied soul.

John Brady yanked his arm, whispering urgently in his ear, “She’s makin’ sign to me, torture, she says. Don’t fight it, Buck.”

Cleven searched the battered faces, some he knew like Ida, T.Smith and Maureen, and some from other squadrons, -ones who must’ve been damned unlucky to get captured considering their safer postings.

“If it can happen to you it c-“ John Brady was a bit of a pain in the ass, Cleven had found, but he had never found him to be wrong.

“Roger, loud and clear, captain.” Cleven warned him his point was made with a bite in his own tone.

“Have we come to an understanding?” The Commandant, amused by the fluster his female charges had caused, it was ample proof that women could never be fully integrated, not even by a society so pervertedly equal as the American’s. “Ja? Sehr gut. It wasn’t like you had a choice anyway, was it?

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is a writer’s life blood, let me hear your thoughts and screams, they mean so much to me.

We have so many prompts already thrown around for this AU, I can’t wait to explore them, and I welcome any more if you have them.

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[monicahar]

scaramouche is a weird boyfriend.

gn! reader, fluff, reader's a bit oblivious and stupid here with tsun tsun kuni. this is heavily inspired by ch. 81 of horimiya but idk what i wrote...im really thinking of a part 2 in his pov of what HE thinks of you this time.

you liked to think your understood the oh-so mighty balladeer better than most people.

with the big n' bad harbinger image that he's carrying around, it's unfathomably impossible to fully get to know him. it's one of the many advantages you like to use—using your reputation as his famed partner for life to get out of missions and errands you dislike.

it takes quite a toll on your paycheck, but who cares when your boyfriend is rich as hell? though you probably have to risk your entire existence when asking for something from him that's a tad bit expensive—but eh, everything has to come with a price, as they say.

but basically, moral of the story; you know your boyfriend pretty well. easy to piss off, really handsome, all bark and no bite (when it solely comes to you. it obviously isn't the same for your unfortunate fellow co-workers.) also unbelievably wealthy, and most importantly—loves you very very much. (he'd sooner slit his throat and dive off a cliff than to outwardly admit it though! he's just that shy! silly him 😜)

yet even though you've memorized and jotted down every aspect of his personality, there are still times you don't get your boyfriend.

though you liked to brag about knowing how he works, you truthfully don't understand enough of his mind's inner workings to be able to comprehend when he does something that throws all your confidence of knowing him out the window.

relatively enough, a good example of this statement is happening before your very eyes right now.

“stop moving, will you?”

hmm, for someone you often associated with a feral cat when it comes to physical contact and affection, he's being rather clingy at the moment. you aren't sure of what to do with your hands, pathetically enough. you fear he might cut off your limbs should you reciprocate...whatever he's doing right now.

unmoving upon the weight nestled in the crook of your neck, you struggle to formulate proper words and thoughts as your hands are awkwardly flailing in the air, not sure if this once in a blue moon display of affection he's giving is a way to non-verbally relay that he wants attention or whatnot...

usually when he wants attention, he'd just pick one of the idiotic things you did today and berate you for it. though it's a weird way of asking for cuddles, you still both end up in each other's arms by the end of the day.

he's not even hugging you or anything, arms hanging by his side as he leans his head on your shoulder, face buried in your neck with his hairtips gently tickle your skin.

unsure of what to do, you just, stand there.

the silence is loud for you, but you're not sure if the same goes for him. the ticking of the clock is a telltale sign that it's been a few minutes or so with him burying his face into your neck like a chick huddling for warmth and protection under its mother's wings, and unfortunately, as nice as it feels for him to initiate contact by himself, your shoulder is horribly getting sore.

“kun—”

before you could even say his full nickname, his head suddenly shoots up, a blank expression painted on his fair face as he stares at the way your eyes blink confusedly.

“i have work to do.” he mutters to himself dazedly, skillfully ignoring the way you tilt your head as if asking him to explain what the hell is up before turning on his heel and making a beeline back to his office, the chime bells of his seemingly mocking you from his lack of provided excuses.

what the...

rolling your shoulders to ease the pain and pressure it gradually collected while supporting the weight of his head, you could only stare down the halls in bewilderment as you're attempting to process what happened just now.

another example of an interspecies act he did also just happened recently.

barging into his office is an almost daily occurrence, proudly walking in with your chin held up high while preparing yourself to rant about your entire day to your busy harbinger boyfriend.

cutely dismissing the fact he always calls you a massive headache for talking his ear out while he's working, you still yap on and on about your uneventful day to him, whether it'd be about some boring lunch with some birds, or an almost death experience to the hands of a mitachurl.

he never openly reacts to your daily shenanigans, only a few eye twitches or deep sighs when you say something particularly disappointing or unamusing which, on the positive side, means he's listening! full and well!

you were prepared for a flurry of insults to be hauled your way the moment you utter that you disgracefully and inconveniently tripped on your way to delivering documents to the doctor, falling face first right at the second harbinger's feet.

you always noticed he seemed a lot more bitter than usual when you mention any of the harbingers, so you kinda expected him to just full blow yell at you when you account this little funny story today of what happened with the doctor.

your eyes nearly fell out of its sockets when he didn't call you stupid or dumb, or an idiot, or whatever demeaning word he has to call you, and instead finally looked up from his desk to frown at you, finally speaking up since the last hour of your nonstop talking.

“did he do anything to you?”

...you've talked about almost dying to a damned humongous chicken on one of your expeditions to sumeru, and this is the topic that catches his immediate worry first and foremost?

it was just a silly prank you pulled out of boredom, wanting to see a reaction from one of the most powerful harbingers! nothing even happened! the doctor just dismissed you with a maniacal laugh, albeit a bit creepy, but he still helped you up!

“he what?”

the lamp on his desk flickers, the electricity around the room becoming more apparent by the second.

were you not supposed to interact with il dottore...?

“forget i said anything...”

gently setting down his quill, he folds his fingers underneath his chin to look at you whilst feigning a rather unsettling smile, an obvious ploy. “oh, no, no. continue.” he nudges in a sing-song tone.

ugh, he's only somehow paying attention to your rant when it's about different people! but doesn't even budge an inch when you say that you've beaten an oni before in a ramen contest. do you know how much of a great feat that is?! he was absolutely destroyed! a product of your successful gluttonous self! that silly yokai never stood a chance!

he glowers at you from his desk. “it's a he as well?”

you knew you had to change the subject fast if the amount of anger seeping from his small being was anything to tell by. “uhh, there was a pink haired lady with us too! she kept flirting with me though, so she didn't really participate in the contest. a huge bummer really, i wanted more opponents!”

—a beat of silence, before the lamp flickers shortly once more.

“she what?”

uhhhh, why is he still angry?

yet another strange phenomenon ensued when he quietly approached you with his chime bells following closely during your training on one sunny day, silently watching you from the sidelines as you fire arrows consecutively at the target multiple feet ahead before you.

rendering all your focus on the target before you, you pull back the string with a certain amount of force and stability—dismissing his presence in the meantime whilst you zero in on the sole red dot in your vision.

whatever has got him burning his stare at your side profile can wait on hold.

huffing to yourself in satisfactory when the arrow's tip diligently digs into the painted wood right at the center of your target, you finally face your scrumptious little gremlin of a lover, unable to stomach the tenacious silence any longer.

“what's up—”

“do you hate me?”

“...?”

good grief. not a good morning, nor a hello, nor some type of greeting he usually accompanies with a venomous insult—but a single question whereas he questions your loyalty and devotion to him as your romantic partner.

you tolerating his entire intolerable existence is already enough of a telltale sign that you like him a smidge lot more than he thinks, right?

you bite down the rude thought in your mouth as you strain a smile towards his direction, confusion still apparent on why he's suddenly asked your opinion of him.

“did you hit your head today, by any chance?” ignoring the glare you're recieving upon the small comment you uttered, you put your bow down on a nearby surface as you worriedly step up to meet his gaze properly. “why are you asking such a question?”

“...”

him being a mouthful is something you don't entirely mind no matter how many people berate you for not finding him annoying in any aspect, but him being so unnervingly silent like this is just plain scary.

you think you're about to melt into a puddle with how intense he gazes at you with his beautiful indigo pools, threatening to consume you whole as he openly ponders about your words.

“so you love me? since you seem to find discomfort in my question?”

“yes...?” you immediately retort as you raise a brow. what's up with him today? he always prided in himself about the love you continuously offer without hesitation, so why is he like this all of a sudden?

“i love you a lot. a heck ton.” you blurt out nothing but truth, “i badly wanna kiss you right now, but i know you don't like it in public so i'm keeping down low.”

he finally peels his gaze off of your face to look at the ground, before flickering up to you once again with an unsure frown, eyeing you weirdly on your shameless confession.

“...okay. that's good.” he replies as his face contorts into a more neutral expression, his voice unnaturally soft and airy. you barely hear him mutter something else under his breath before he swivels around and leaves the training grounds—stunning you greatly on what just transpired.

you always knew he was uh...a bit emotionally detached and all that, but having to question the affection you hold just for him? isn't the fact that you're willing to lick under anyone's boot just to simply talk to him not enough confirmation?

not knowing what to do in this situation, you simply just watch as he slowly escapes your line of sight, observant eyes not missing the slight bounce in his steps.

he's happy, it seems. you giggle to your self at the adorable sight. perhaps you should chase after him and kiss him silly.

from what you've heard, other people's lovers would normally be a lot more nicer and considerate when it comes to their significant others, but that obviously isn't the case with your unique partner.

needless to say, he is a really strange boyfriend. too puzzling for your pretty little brain to fully wrap around yet an enigma you truly couldn't get enough of—fortunately or unfortunately? whatever.

scaramouche is a walking and living contradiction—inconceivably difficult to predict.

he hogs all the blankets at night when you sleep together yet gets mad at you when you catch a cold the next morning,

thinks your cooking is an abominable atrocity yet still consumes them religiously like he currently isn't getting food poisoning,

always makes it his priority to call you 'unsightly' or whatever, only to lightly bonk your head when you actually agree and sulk to yourself about it,

often voices his protest against your kisses and huggie wuggies as you've called them, yet doesn't fight back when you forcibly wrap your arms around him after finally getting enough of his stubbornness,

intensely glares at every person that comes within a two feet radius of your 'personal space', and if you bother to ask him what's wrong—he'd direct his glaring at you as well for some reason,

he refuses to lend you his precious hat every single time when you ask to borrow it, yet shoves it unceremoniously against your face to hide his burning visage from your sight after a particularly flirtatious comment you slipped in,

never verbally returns your 'i love you's during the day, yet he constantly whispers it to you like a mantra when he thinks you're asleep. (does he not want you to know he loves you or something...? anyway let's just pretend not to hear him for his sake.)

scaramouche is a weird boyfriend indeed, but he's yours and yours only. a constant in your life that you'd never give up for the world.

no matter how you look at it, the list seems endless—ceaselessly an infinite of contradictions and complexity carried on his person. he truly lives up to his eccentric title, a strange person indeed...

—but despite him being his grumpy self 24/7, you still find him entertaining and all the more endearing.

whichever person threatened to take him away from you would have to face your gluttonous wrath.

(he looks at you weirdly when you proudly exclaim you'd eat even the gods should they ever lay a hand on him.)

atm i am hungry and i want borgir :( this starved stomach of mine might've slightly influenced how i portrayed reader

[iiseor]

Abby with reader who makes her world 🌎

Abby who met you during the worst time of her life, she felt sucked into the hard workload being a doctor came with.

She took a leave of absence to "re generate" and ended up switching hospitals to break free from the horrible city environment. She ended up moving into a smaller town that was in need of more doctors — which is how she met you

It was such a cliche, she was touring around the area and strolled upon your beautiful flower store, that had a beautiful girl to match it.

She didn't even want to buy flowers honestly, she just came to look around, but you were so sweet she couldn't resist. Hearing how appreciative you were with every customer made her want to buy the entire store.

you two hit it off quickly, she was working alongside your brother who was also a doctor. You offered to show her around and that's how it all started.

you were so extroverted it comforted her in ways she couldn't explain.

You're quite literally her human vitamin.

Her favourite part of the day is speaking to you. She loves to hear your voice, it makes her melt. unfortunately because of work she can't always call you—but you assure to send her so many heart warming texts throughout her shifts

Y: hi my love 💗💗💗 I hope your shift is going well, remember to eat well and don't stress too much !!

Y: also look at these pretty flowers i just got in 🌷🌷

A: hi sweetheart

A: thank you, everything is going well.

A: and the flowers are just as beautiful as you are

Despite loving your updates throughout the day, Coming home to you is obviously the best part of it all.

if there's one thing she's obsessed with, it's your smile, she loves how easily you smile 24/7 and how genuinely happy you are with life and how it rubs off on others.

Introducing you to her family and friends when she takes you back into the city was so, natural and simple. Everyone adored you, and she fell in love even more when she saw you so effortlessly socializing with them all.

You're just so refreshing to her, everytime she see's you she falls in love more. She sometimes feels like a little kid the way she crushes on her own girlfriend, it's so silly and cute.

another thing she adores is your comfort and affection, her love language is touch, and you reciprocate it so well. she can spend hours just laying next to you, you don't even have to speak.

Your both obsessed with healthcare, you, a little more than her... even though she's a doctor, and muscular, she sometimes forgets health is more than just exercise. Luckily she has you to remind her. despite you being a florist—you prioritize health over everything. Your vitamin collection is honestly impressive and it doesn't take long for u to start forcing abby to take them aswell, Though, she does swear you're the only vitamin she needs.

Speaking of you being a florist, she loves the balance between your job and hers. She loves how stressless your job seems for you, it contributes to your high enebergy that rubs off on her. It also contributes to how gentle and caring you are when it comes to her stress and hard work.

When you two move into an apartment together, she loves how you decorate it with all ur favourite flowers and art. She appreciates your creativity more than anything, it's something she definitely lacked in her life before she met you.

[yourstrulyrika]

rika <3 was wondering if u could write smth about leon reassuring reader? maybe she insecure, thinks that leon deserves someone better (ada maybe?)

you are sooo sweet to us all, i hope you are taking care of yourself!! xoxo

hello ♡ of course!! i actually love this concept, been thinking about this, so ofc! also love you too ♡ i’m glad all of you are following me!!

no warnings, pure fluff and comfort. heavy mentions of insecurity and mental struggles though. reader is hinted to be Leon’s mission partner, but not stated directly!! re4r!Leon :3

you’re insecure, to say the least. always thinking you’re not good enough, that you’re ugly, undeserving— and then there’s Leon. the most perfect man you laid your eyes on, and he’s your boyfriend. he loves you, more than life itself — but even when he tells you that, you don’t quite believe it. Leon is honest, sure, but what if he’s just saying this? what if he just doesn’t want to make you upset? those thoughts keep nagging your head. your mind is your own hell.

and there’s also Ada. Ada Wong — Leon has said so many times they don’t share anything, that he doesn’t like her that way.She’s just the part of his life he can’t get rid of—

and that mere sentence strengthened your doubts. it got worse. so much worse.

you saw her like once in your life, and the way Leon looks at her. you started thinking he loves her, doubts eating you alive. Ada is so much prettier, so much better, smarter, stronger— the list can go on. you hate it. what if Leon likes her more and is with you out of pity? after all, he knows Ada for long years right? You know about the kiss— he says it was just Ada using his feelings and all that. you did not believe him. not one fucking bit.

since then, your mind has created a whole new scenario that Leon doesn’t love you. you can’t help it. you started isolating yourself, closing yourself in your own world and not speaking to him. any attemps at conversation coming from Leon were futile. you just couldn’t find it in yourself to speak. why would he want to speak with you anyway? he has Ada, right? she’s so much better.

but, Leon was going insane. losing his damn mind over this. he knew something was going on. why won’t you talk to him? what’s going on— why are you so damn quiet? pushing him away? he feels so confused, but also so stressed out over this. what happened? what did he do wrong?

he tried talking to you, but you just.. won’t budge. and he feels so damn horrible. he just wants to wrap you in his arms and comfort you.

“Please, just speak to me. Baby? Please, I beg you. I love you, you know that, right?”

you hear his words, but you don’t respond. why can’t he just go away? obviously he’s lying.

but he just gets so damn frustrated. he’s growing fucking desperate. your doors are locked— not letting him in. but he won’t let you isolate yourself any further. he literally breaks down the door to reach you, finding you laying down on the bed.

he kneels down beside your bed, reaching out to take your hand in his. when you don’t reach back, he frowns, but doesn’t push any further. instead, he lets you have your own space.

“What’s going on? Please, talk to me. No matter how silly you think it is.” he’s genuine when saying this. he genuinely cares about you so damn much, wants you to be happy with him.

you hesitate to respond, mumbling out a single “Ada Wong.”

and it was enough to hit him with a damn reality check. you were insecure about Ada. you were always insecure, but surely Ada’s appearance didn’t help. the way he’s looking at you, so sweet and loving, it tells you he understands. he stands up, sitting on the bed to cup your cheeks.

“Oh baby. I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry.” that’s all he says while looking into your eyes to make sure you understand what he’s saying.

“I know what you think. I can see it right in your eyes. But please, don’t think she means anything to me. She’s a part of my past, sure, but she’s just the past. What matters is right now — and right now, you’re mine. I don’t feel anything towards Ada. That feeling left years ago. Please, let me prove it to you.” he says as he presses his lips to your forehead, interlocking your fingers together. you let him in, let him hold you. and he’s so damn happy over this — so desperate to reassure you.

“I missed holding you so much, princess. I love you, and only you. I’m all yours — everything I have, it’s also yours. My body, my heart, my soul belongs to you.” he whispers in your ear, laying down beside you, turning your position a little so you face him while he holds you.

“And I don’t want anyone else. No one. All I see is you. Everyone else just don’t matter to me. You’re all I want.” he’s peppering your face with little kisses, hoping you hear him out. he makes sure you fall asleep that night, in his arms. he’s holding you in his arms through the whole night, not letting go.

“There’s no one better than you. Not even Ada, Jill, Claire— no one. No. One.” he says this firmly, making sure you understand. or at least tries to get it into your head. he’s so hopelessly in love with you, literally could die for you. one could say he’s almost obsessed— in a way, he is. he thinks about you 24/7, even on his missions, when about to sleep, when training.

he falls asleep eventually, once you’re asleep— and when he wakes up, and sees you awake, he’s already all over you.

“Please, don’t leave me. Never leave.” he begs you; you can see how desperate he is. you never see him so open with his feelings. but he just can’t handle the thought of you leaving, he’s so damn terrified about this. looking at you with vulnerable, soft eyes, pleading you to understand. he loves you with his entire heart, and he means it.

“I won’t. I love you, too.”

you say, and that much is enough for him to pull you into a kiss. a deep, loving kiss where pours all his love into. it lasts until both of you are breathless, but even then, he doesn’t want to let go. lets you catch your breath, before pulling you into another kiss. locking your lips with his own, cupping your face. when he pulls away, he looks at you again, with a soft smile on his face.

“Let’s have a lazy day today, okay? I just want to pamper you, show you I love you so much. Just let me take care of you — I want to make sure you won’t ever doubt yourself over Ada again.”

[inbarfink]

Goddam, just seeing Simon in these last two episodes is really flooding me with so many conflicting emotions.

Because, on the one hand, after his lowest point in Episode 4 - resigning himself to death in the hands of the Scarab - he’s clearly finally doing better. Just look at him making plans

And showing off his smarts

And finally genuinely smiling and feeling happy

And being so glad to meet the alt versions of his friends

And getting excited about his nerdy shit for the first time in glob-knows-how-long

And cracking goofy geeky jokes

And offering others the same grace and kindness he was given when he was trapped under the curse of the Magic Crown

And trying to be comforting and fatherly and give Fionna advice and cheer her up

He’s so clearly doing a lot better now, he’s rediscovering aspects of himself that his depression has torn away from him, he found a meaning and purpose in his life again. And it should warm my heart, and on some level it does....

But it also sends a chill down my spine knowing that this purpose that brought back the light into Simon’s eyes, the purpose he finally found is sacrificing his mind and identity again for the sake of Fionna’s happiness and her world.

He’s throwing himself right back into the miserable existence and the trauma he tries so hard to move forward from. He’s dooming himself because he honestly believes now that he’s always going to be miserable and lonely and fucked up so he might as well have be the kind of miserable and fucked up that is not lucid enough to know how miserable he is all of the time. The kind of misery that at least fits into his world.

Because he started to romanticize being the Ice King in a twisted kinda way, and now he has found the excuse to turn it into a selfless, noble act. Because the only way he feels like he’s useful and like he has worth is by protecting and helping and sacrificing himself for the sake of others.

(And like, especially in light of how he was trying to resign himself to death just moments before coming up with his plan. Not to get extremely dark, but.... suicidal people often seem to ‘get better’ just before the try to kill themselves. Because they feel like they’re finally ‘doing something’ and their misery is almost over. That kinda feels what Simon is going through right now? Becoming the Ice King again is not literally death, but it is a sort of death for Simon Petrikov’s identity.)

And this new sense of purpose in saving Fionnaworld by dooming himself is clearly blinding Simon to so many obviously telegraphed signs that this is a horrible idea.

He saw hints of just how badly Farmworld Finn has been dealing with his own Magic Crown Related Trauma

and maybe if things would’ve been different this could’ve been something they could have commiserated over. Simon could’ve had someone who understood a bit of what he has gone through, and seeing a version of Finn, of all people, face similar struggles - maybe could’ve helped him feel a little less Uniquely and Irredeemably Fucked Up. (For bonus points, they're ALSO both dealing with the grief of losing their Significant Other)

But his newfound obsession that Everything Will Be Better Once He’s Cursed again was making him totally ignore all of this.

And then there’s their little adventure in the Winter Kingdom. Which had both the Candy Queen/Princess Bubblegum as a perfect reminder of the suffering and pain involved in being trapped in the Madness of the Magic Crown

And the Winter King as a reminder of the harmful and twisted things he was capable of doing as the Ice King.

But instead he basically refused to learn any lesson from that Universe that’s not just ‘Fuck That Version of Me Specifically’ and tried to advice Fionna to do the same.

But well, while I am still worried about Simon’s mental state, his improved disposition does give me a little bit of hope. Hope that maybe he himself will notice that he is doing better and won’t be quite so eager to sacrifice his own sanity. Or maybe more likely, hope that now that he’s not just a miserable sadman screaming at their faces

Fionna and Cake are growing to appreciate Simon Petrikov for who he is and will simply refuse to let him sacrifice himself for their sake. Because, yeah, Simon tried to tell Fionna to not worry about all of that Winter Kingdom stuff, that it was just that Simon was ‘messed up’ - but since when does Fionna Campbell do what she’s told?

[meraxesmoon]

Yandere HOTD Husbands <3

note: im tired of u guys pretending corlys isn't fine af 😭

warnings: yandere content, dark content, mention of pregnancy and having children, so afab darling, darling is called their wife, infidelity, possessive behavior, touch-starved aegon, gaslighting, you guys forget that aemond is not a pookie bear, criston

Aegon

♡ He's a mess, but at the end of the day, Aegon just wants to be loved. You can imagine his darling is just miserable with him, but Yan! Aegon is a different case. He just wants his sweet wife's attention on him, and he'll go to whatever means necessary in order to get it.

♤ Aegon has no real use for whores or servant girls anymore now that he has a wife that he craves, but that doesn't mean he won't use his past sexual deviancy against his wife if she refuses to give him the attention that he wants and needs. Aegon can be petty, and he uses the threat of fucking other women against his darling if they refuse him. His mother berates him for his behavior, but it works for the most part, so he doesn't care.

♡ He's extremely possessive over his wife. Aegon never gets any positive attention from anyone, so if he's blessed with a wife who actually dotes on him, he becomes obsessed with their attention. This, however, can become problematic. Aegon isn't keen on sharing his darling with anyone, and seeing his wife shower anyone else with their love makes Aegon delirious with jealousy.

♤ He really is starved for affection, so there's no doubt that Aegon's wife would have at least a few children. Aegon is a very sexual being, and he craves his wife like no other. There will be children. If his wife suffered from infertility, he'd probably just snatch one of his bastards up and bring them to his wife 😭 however, Aegon isn't the best father and just wants his darling wife to be happy with him. His children aren't strangers to Aegon, and he doesn't hate them, he's just focused on other things.

♡ Aegon is the type of husband who gaslights his wife all of the time, too. He's so scared that they'll get tired of him and find themselves a lover that he has to make them believe that he's the only man that could ever love them fully and as they are. He's absolutely toxic.

Aemond

♡ Believe it or not, Aemond is even more toxic than Aegon. Both of them are desperate for their respective wives, but the difference is that Aegon is obvious about his desperation, Aemond is not. That's not how he operates within his marriage, and Aemond can get increasingly aggressive when his wife doesn't do their duty to him as their husband.

♤ Aemond is dutiful, over everything else. He knows how to be a dutiful husband due to the way his mother talks about how wives should be treated, but when his wife is stubbornly intaking moon tea every morning, you can imagine his frustration. Aemond wants his wife to be willing to give him children, obviously, and he doesn't quite like the idea of forcing it upon them, so he's stuck in a bad mood until the problem is resolved. That being said, he would definitely tamper with his wife's tea once he gets his hands on the maester who's making it. He has more power within the castle than his wife does, the maester can't refuse him.

♡ That's not to say that he's a completely horribly husband, though. Aemond courted them before they were married, and he's clearly obsessed with his wife. He holds no hate for them, and many say he's a better husband than Aemond's wife could have asked for. He's accommodating, and he makes sure that his wife wants for nothing when they're with him.

♤ Aemond, however, has the soul of a dragon. He has a fiery temper, almost like Vhagar herself. His jealousy is unrivaled, by all accounts. Aemond, in the eyes of Westeros, is disabled and maimed. He went through phases of learning how to work around his lack of an eye, but people still consider him less than other men. That being said, he gets extremely uncomfortable when other men approach his wife. Aemond had to pull some legs for (Name)'s parents to agree to marry them to him, and Aemond isn't willing to share them with anyone.

♡ Aemond's jealousy would definitely cause some arguments between him and his wife, though. These are mostly one-sided arguments because he's rather scary when he's angry, but they leave Aemond feeling empty and insecure in his marriage. Aemond has this habit of locking his wife in their chambers when he's in this kind of mood, despite his mother telling him it's inappropriate.

Criston

♡ He can not actually have a wife, obviously, but the way Criston acts with his darling makes it look like he might actually be their husband. I imagine that they're a lady-in-waiting for either Alicent or Helaena. Maybe they're just a random servant. Criston meets them right after his big blowout with Rhaenyra.

♤ Just so we're clear, he was absolutely destroyed after what happened with the princess, so I can see his darling being someone who he feels safe around. I actually really like the idea of his darling having a motherly vibe, so they coddle Criston in secret. Unlike Aegon and Aemond, there isn't much of a sexual aspect to his relationship with his wife. Criston is sort of averse to the idea of sex after Rhaenyra.

♡ Once he becomes more comfortable around his darling, I think he would dote on them a lot in private. They're so precious to him, and Criston is just so thankful that they exist, so he does everything in his power to make them happy. This may come off as rather smothering, but he's incapable of stopping.

♤ The one thing about him is that he gaslights his wife a lot. He's afraid that they’ll find out that he isn't the white knight in shining armor that he makes them think he is, and that terrifies Criston. He doesn't want his little wife to lose the love they have for him.

♡ He lets his invasive thoughts win sometimes and almost asks Alicent to actually wed him to his darling.

♤ He's delusional <3

This has been in my drafts for a while, i like the way it came out :)

[marinerendevouz]

enemies to lovers with fine + switch !

ft. eichi tenshouin, yuzuru fushimi, tori himemiya, wataru hibiki & natsume sakasaki, tsumugi aoba, sora harukawa

eichi tenshouin

• listen. hear me out here. being the younger sibling of rei and ritsu.

• SO many opportunities for silly shenanigans to ensue

• i can imagine eichi being the one to attempt (keyword: attempt) to court you first

• which obviously, considering his history with rei, is honestly REALLY WEIRD?

• you’re just like . What the fuck are you doing while eichi like . Winks at you or something

• seriously so awkward. you hate his guts tbh and are planning on his downfall together with rei

• ritsu finds it so So stupid. probably gossips ? gossipED ? about you with eichi at tea club . eichi was kicking his feet and giggling the entire time

• part of him doesn’t believe his crush is genuine at first. he thinks that it’s amusing, obviously, but real feelings ? he is simply not allowed to feel those…

• until now that is !

• he thinks your snarky remarks and nonchalant gaze are enrapturing

• meanwhile, you: (ʘ言ʘ╬)

• you accompany rei and ritsu to ensemble square quite often, which means you are (unfortunately) greeted by the presence of eichi almost Daily. A Nightmare for sure

• as time goes on, you see how hardworking and charismatic eichi is while performing his duties as executive for starmaker productions and well. even You can’t deny it’s a little attractive. ONLY a little (a lot)

• once eichi catches on to you reciprocating his feelings, he is SO ANNOYING!!!

• teasing gets way wayyy worse. honestly it’s over for you, personally i would have kms by that point

• and once rei notices your banter with eichi turning into FLIRTING? it is joever for you

• half of him is extremely disgusted . he is clinging to his beloved ritsu to console him . the other half is impressed somehow

• “ah, of all people, it had to be him?” “listen i didn’t want this either, rei” - you

• to see your hatred of what eichi did turn into understanding… really even you’re impressed with yourself

• and eichi is Actively trying to be better . he is a little fucked up but it’s okay you can fix him (and also make him worse)

• also i think it’s so funny to imagine eichi’s pale ass figure visit the dark, brooding, gothic sakuma estate. Family dinner visit !

• rei does not give his approval. he almost throws a plate at eichi

• ritsu just gives you two a thumbs up

• a happy family for sure ❤️

yuzuru fushimi

• as the best friend of tori, you have personal beef with his butler

• WHY is he always with tori. how are you two meant to get up to mischief with him constantly Watching. Always Watching.

• and yuzuru thinks you are a horrible influence on his young master

• an OUTRAGEOUS CLAIM which you are ready to fistfight him for . you exude nothing but purity, innocence and charm

• tori is somewhere between amused by your hatred for yuzuru and tired of hearing you talk about him ALL THE TIME

• “and why does he have to constantly be watching you? seriously, he should get a hobby. he’s an idol, too, right? actually i can kind of see why, he definitely has the looks to make it in the industry. anyway—” “OH MY GOD SHUT UP (Y/N)”

• tori doesn’t understand why you’re so Oblivious and so Dumb . he cries to eichi-sama about it who is too busy . idk watching wataru turn into a bird

• yuzuru just watches you with that type of . Evil and Scary closed eye smile that he is a pro at

• honestly? you’re quivering in your boots. but also admiring his smile. his smile is really pretty. Wait a minute.

• the complaining turns into swooning ! who would have guessed (tori) (he guessed) (he knew) (and now he has to listen to you talk about yuzuru 25/7)

• you clean up your act in order to impress him. No More late night snack runs with tori. you are a SAINT

• yuzuru finds it endearing and honestly quite entertaining

• soon enough, he finds himself completely charmed by your. erm. really strange(?) behaviour

• he, himself, is also a strange individual so there’s no surprise there

• tori sets up tea dates for the both of you as well awwww. What a good friend (he invites you over for tea with him then runs away when yuzuru comes to serve you tea. it is a Kind Of tea date)

• honestly you scored a 10/10 baddie GOOD FOR YOU

tori himemiya

• ok i know i have done the sibling ones So often already but. tsukasa’s sibling. YOU being tsukasa’s sibling that is.

• you and tsukasa are constantly discussing how tori has Wronged you everyday

• tori just looks at you both and calls you a fugly pair of siblings

• “listen i’m not saying we bring a lighter to the next fine concert But”

• “that is not appropriate at all… that being said i am not discarding the idea”

• dw about tori he has his own personal bodyguard (yuzuru) to ward off predators (you and tsukasa)

• how is he so much cuter, more successful, prettier, funnier, cuter—

• you know that type of jealousy and hatred that you realise is actually. Much deeper feelings. Yeah. it’s that

• tori gets a lot busier with idol work and that’s when you realise you miss going to the student council office just to banter with him.

• it is so so lonely and so so cold… (2 hours no tori)

• head on the desk. you feel yourself drifting further and further away…

• “hey, what’s up loser”

• RAGE. tori himemiya.

• half play fighting half unbridled rage . its like a pair of kittens toppling over and hissing

• tori also (maybe) (kind of) missed you too. he complained. Loudly. to yuzuru who was like Alright we are going to see them then!

• eventually the teasing insults and fighting turns into the type of fighting that you do as a couple. idk it just KIND OF HAPPENS?

• tsukasa is like. Well i do not approve but at least it’ll be good for our family business

• a good end. a happy end. eichi and wataru have adopted the two of you as their own

• “AMAZING! when is the wedding” “NEVER SHUT UP”

• you buy matching, cutesey couple items and then fight over them

• really what’s a good relationship without a few death threats here and there

wataru hibiki

• i really cannot imagine wataru having an enemy. SURE he has a lot of haters (tomoya) (hokuto) but even then it is done so in an affectionate manner. There is simply No hatred in his heart. only silliness

• so unfortunately your hatred of him is one-sided ! enemy to lovers part 2

• being a rival actor to THE wataru hibiki is certainly a predicament. i mean he has sentient hair is there anything he can’t do

• and it pisses you off. Majorly. who does this absolute clown think he is

• you try your hardest at Every show, you sing your heart out, put the most effort in

• and then there’s wataru. who is Equally as hardworking but somehow 10x more charismatic

• even eichi tenshouin is his biggest fan . he has capitalism on his side

• so you have a burning jealousy and hatred for this man . Well until he offers to do a show WITH you

• you just give him the blankest stare . What are you on about

• while he’s laughing to himself and monologuing on how you two would make the perfect lead roles

• ????? SERIOUSLY

• that’s how you get roped into performing with him and a bunch of idols in dramatica . And well they are certainly an interesting bunch

• as you prepare for the (romantic btw) musical you convince yourself the warmth you feel in your cheeks at his love proclamations is just Method Acting

• IT IS NOT!!!! no one can resist his charm

• you also see how well respected he is as an actor and his true talent on stage

• like . He was one of the eccentrics for a reason. he is stupidly good at acting

• jealousy turns to admiration and well. yeah you guessed it ! admiration turns into an intolerable crush

• wataru, similarly, is impressed at your prowess for acting and shows no signs of being quiet about it. he is yelling how talented you are every 5 seconds and joking how he may Really fall for you

• spoiler warning: he does

• flash forward 6 months . Time for the play

• at the kiss scene it all really comes together . it is a sincerely romantic and genuine kiss

• the crowd is going WILD (except eichi) (he’s jealous) (“i wish that was me fr”)

• backstage, you may just pass out

• but of course wataru is there to lift you up and be a shoulder you can lean on

• And that’s how you scored a date with THE wataru hibiki . he is everyone’s wataru but especially yours

• absolute 10/10 power couple watch out hollywood (and eichi)

• tomoya is just hoping you can tame him or something

natsume sakasaki

• i am so normal over him guys trust (lie) (such a lie)

• he is the perfect candidate for enemies to lovers . something about him just screams ‘i love you in a way that is so painful and so mean’

• anyways . being the apprentice of wataru after natsume stops being his apprentice

• I AM SO SANE OVER THIS CONCEPT

• obviously you were Not Really involved in the war so you’re pretty clueless as to natsume’s former relationship with wataru

• which makes you question why he is such an asshole to you. LIKE he does not take your magic seriously at all

• he thinks that you are not qualified which is . so stupid like you cannot gatekeep being an evil wizard okay that title is for anyone

• in reality… he is a tiny bit insecure that you’re good enough at magic to be wataru’s apprentice

• magic and alchemy has always been something that his character is largely based on and for someone to take over that role so quickly ?!?&:!

• so he Pretends that whenever wataru is telling him about your latest experiments and tricks that he is Not impressed .

• he's basically the yawns . sloppy. boring. lazy .

• he actually really wants to discuss magic with you but every time you meet he just scowls and acts like a bitch. in usual natsume ‘i hate being vulnerable or showing any feelings’ agenda

• so that means you’re going to have to make the first move. otherwise the enemies to lovers slowburn 100k words pining fic ends HERE

• if you ask him for help with magic he is going to be so smug

• like “hM, i figured the likes of you would need help from me afterALL”

• just try not to punch him in the face it will be WORTH IT OKAY!!!

• his hands are actually really shaky the whole time and he is trying his hardest not to mess up it’s actually So so cute

• and natsume gets to assess your magic prowess too (he’s impressed btw. he wouldn’t tell you that so i’m passing on the message. he's falling in love so quick but don’t tell him i told you ok)

• and so you meet up at his secret room regularly ! and with sora too who you become apprentice buddies with ^_^ so joyous

• listen i wasn’t going to include the love potion natsume trope in this but these headcanons are tropey enough let me have this

• you confess by making a love potion together with him PLEASE HEAR ME OUT

• anyways you are the best most magical couple in all of ensemble stars . you create tricky little spells to foil your enemies (eichi tenshouin) and then kiss wearing witch’s hats . the end

tsumugi aoba

• another good enemies to lovers candidate but in a More pathetic way i think

• you’re the producer for past fine. please hear me out on this concept

• i think your beef would be similar to eichi and hiyori . like divorced couple type romance

• you are regretful of the war and find the memories to be bittersweet. then you talk to tsumugi and he’s like Yeah haha i would probably do it again

• HE HAS ISSUES

• and yet he’s still one of the only people who truly understands and unconditionally supports you… this is a sick and twisted world

• i think tsumugi is too moe kyaah anime girl to have any hatred towards you so the enemies to lovers will (once again) be one sided

• he brings up your time as second years and you feel the need to throttle him

• yet you know him so well too, especially how he overworks himself

• and as an ensemble square producer you have to take care of his soggy pathetic self. Sorry

• that one romance trope of the person bandaging the wounds of the love interest . that’s you two except it’s you dragging his ass to bed at 3am

• he will complain . so you have to compromise on letting him cuddle you

• everyone notices how close you two are btw . sora is that one image that’s like ‘hey why does senpai call you babygirl’ ‘how about we stop talking for a little while’

• you Deny all the outrageous claims that you CARE??? for him and say it is rather your past together that makes you feel obligated but it was like two? three? years ago mostly everyone has moved on. stop lying to yourself

• you two have healed Together… and that is what makes your love so raw and vulnerable and eughhsjk this is so sappy and cute. Throws up

• hiyori and nagisa are both so happy that you two are together and finally found peace (sort of)

• eichi is like Hm. interesting . this is awkward

• but it’s okay . because everything is fine (haha get it) now and you and tsumugi are (past) war criminals together ^_^

sora harukawa

• sora is too full of JOY and HAPPINESS to be enemies with anyone . So we are going a bit off script you are rivals in this scenario

• video game rivals to be precise ! i feel like the 🤓 typing this but it’s CUTESEY I PROMISE

• mostly you two play multiplayer games together and get a teensy bit competitive . in the video game club of Course which means we get natsume to be the (totally unbiased) judge

• sora is realllyyy good at video games which means you frequently lose . this is why you have waged war on him

• you will not STOP until the ultimate gamer title becomes yours

• sora is just ヽ(*⌒∇⌒*)ﾉ he’s happy to indulge and play games with you because your colour is always so bright and vibrant when you do !

• little does he know you are plotting his Demise. his demise on little big planet or something

• days, nights, weeks, months you train to beat him. and you never do

• he keeps winning everytime and always acts so modest about it which is even WORSE!!! you can't even get mad when he’s so polite about beating you

• once sora notices your colour becoming more dull because of how demotivated you are he gets really worried (◞‸◟；) he loves playing games but loves spending time with you more…

• once you admit that you’re upset about being worse at games he thinks of a quick solution ! play games together instead of against each other and he can teach you all his tricks

• (natsume offers to help too but he's Not important and he is an asshole . Do not trust)

• so your weekly gaming tournaments basically turn into gaming dates ft thirdwheel natsume and sometimes tsumugi

• cutest CUTEST couple 10/10 i love

• natsume approves too btw . 10/10

• tsumugi is a Little confused but he has the spirit (he also rates 10/10)

• (rinne will not be Making an appearance in fear of shu finding out but he also rates 10/10. Save him from shu)

OKAY KIND OF IMPORTANT MESSAGE SO PLEASE READ!!!

i would have made a separate post for this but i feel like no one would read it so. i’m finally back after um. 10 months. i was super busy and kind of lost interest in enstars and other things so i pretty much abandoned this blog… BUT I HAVE RETURNED! i’m going to try posting every so often and interacting more with you guys on here ^_^ i cleared out my inbox (sorry to anyone who sent things in, it was cluttered and stressing me out haha) so feel free to send me any asks! i will NOT be opening specific requests, but you can feel free to send suggestions for prompts, scenarios or characters you want me to make headcanons for and i’ll try my best!! i also want to try out writing proper fics alongside the silly hc posts, but i might mostly post those on ao3, though i would like a nice balance between silly and serious(ish). i will also try writing for other fandoms like mhyk, twst and pjsekai since i am heavily in those as well but yeah!! my official comeback methinks. hope to chat more with everyone! ♡

[eluxcastar]

What are the Harbingers like while drunk?

── ୨୧：fatui harbingers x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: a night of drinking usually leads to a far more chaotic band of harbingers than usual, a horrible nightmare for everyone else involved considering their behaviour. it is not all terrible however, admittedly.

୨୧﹑genre :: some are a little fluffy it varies though

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, it is chaotic, columbina does touch reader like very publicly how far that goes is ambiguous, obviously consumption of alcohol

୨୧﹑words :: 1.9k

by this I actually mean how many drinks does it take for them to be all over you (optionally their s/o) which will find its answer, this includes every Harbinger because there is no grandpa discrimination in this household 🙏 requests will start getting posted again tomorrow

The youngest Harbinger is alright, but arguably one of the worst when it comes to how drunk he'll get and how quick. If being a massive casual flirt with you already doesn't help (which it does not), then getting a couple drinks in him can only make him worse. As if stealing all of his restraint and boundaries— possibly mistakable for sense of reason— it unlocks a secondary urge that somehow overtakes his need to fight everything that does or does not move. He can take you (not in a fight tho). A few drinks in, and you better take them away from him before he becomes too over-eager and starts on his quest to fight the other Harbingers once more. Usually, it's quite easy to get him to settle if you just tie him to the nearest pole and leave him for a while to get through his fight with a rope first.

Arlecchino is surprisingly good in this respect, though more so because it's hard to tell when she's drunk except for the fact that she speaks differently, more open with her feelings than when she's sober, and unabashedly will speak her mind in the same tone she usually speaks her insults unless it is to you. For some reason, her equally shameless words and advances always comes out something not like a question and a borderline nag to go with her somewhere—to her room, no doubt—down to outright admitting that she wants you. She barely leaves any room for your decline or contemplation when she's following you around all night like a lost, stray dog whimpering at your feet, and it's kind of cute. You won't go with her, though, because you know what she wants, so she'll just have to wait until you get to enjoy yourself a little at the very least. She's still so ridiculously cute asking with a straight face, however, especially once you manage to settle her to the point she falls asleep head on the table out like a light.

Unfortunately too used to drinking over business, Pantalone is tipsy at best as he's no stranger to drinking some ornate expensive wine after a long day of work, though the flush in his cheeks tells you he's at least a little gone. He rests his head on your shoulder without a word most of the time, perhaps purposefully gluing you to your place by his side so that you cannot be stolen away. He says he's not tired whenever you ask, and you don't doubt that somehow. He's got an added boisterous charm to his laugh, but his voice is low, and he stares at you through his lashes as he's coaxing you into drinking with him. Drink some more, loosen up, there's nothing to worry about. Of course, there's always something to worry about with him, never able to just let you be when he's drunk as he's a bit of a pest.

Insisting that you drink two glasses for her single finished one, Signora is far more focused on getting you drunk than herself. She holds drinks to your lips, practically forcing you to down them to get her to get off your back, all with an arm over your shoulders, keeping you from backing away. She's shockingly promiscuous in a way—though not explicitly—this night will just most definitely end with the two of you having drunkenly made out at least twice, and she's got a good amount of glasses of wine under her belt, as well as you stumbling and at your limit needing her help to find your bearings. Her chest is soft, of course you can use her as your pillow all you want, and of course she'll get you home safe.

An interesting case is the mysterious disappearance of Sandrone's stoic exterior, her usual abrasiveness replaced by a giggly and borderline childish self far more interested in finding something funny in everything and bothering you to carry her around, including back to her room— or yours. She's not picky. Only two drinks in, she behaves like she has never heard of subtlety in her life. Often she will question why you keep doing the things you do, especially if that happens to ruin all her fun, like pulling her away from Tartaglia so that she will stop teasing the poor boy, or to get her to stop loudly asking all of the details of the ins and outs of Scaramouche's workings when he's shifting in his seat trying to hide his discomfort behind his own abrasiveness. Eventually, you may have to carry her back to her room, if only to get her to go to bed and try to get all the rest she can before she wakes up the next morning hungover and miserable.

Scaramouche may only be a puppet, but his other functions seem to work just fine…it still surprises you that he manages to get drunk, much less that he starts getting overly emotional when he does and ends up crying over nothing until you manage to cheer him up as he buries his head in your chest. Apparently, he's just very happy to see you, despite you having been there all night, and he doesn't want you to go anywhere despite the fact you never had any intention of doing so yet. It's so strange but not unwelcome, just hard to get used to, though you let him loiter around you and cling a little. Every time you have to go somewhere, he's asking where you're going, and only when you provide a good enough answer does he stare a little before nodding slowly and resting his head on his arms for comfort, waiting for you to come back.

Over time you learned to stop getting Pulcinella drunk as it leads to him telling the same stories of his youth he's convinced beyond a doubt that you've never heard before. His earlier days in the Fatui are practically ingrained in your mind as you have little choice but to grin and bear it, hoping he doesn't notice that you're not really listening. Of course he notices, however, and in his usual exaggerated movements, taps your nose to draw your attention back, threatening to steal it if you don't pay attention. Youngsters these days is his usual grumble, and as always, you must remind him you are not, in fact, a 'youngster'. It is quieter, more intimate storytelling between the two of you, maybe only Pierro at your side interested in hearing all of this though you're pretty sure Pulcinella hasn't even noticed he's there considering he's so fixated on you and where your eyes are, anywhere but him and he's promptly drawing your attention right back.

Capitano holds his liquor so well you're a little worried for his liver, as the worst offence he manages is making a couple of bad jokes. Barely does he seem affected by it, but you wonder if managing to conceal his face well enough has anything to do with it or if he simply hasn't had anything to drink at all in the absence of any desire to take his helmet off just yet. Considering his demeanour has changed slightly, you're willing to bet the former. He is awfully touchy and forward in all of his advances, though his boldness would never overstep too far. He can hear a no and accept it, but by the time that helmet is resting on the table by his side and he's buried his face in his hands, far too drunk to reason with himself to keep it on, he does begin to get far closer than before with every word said just a half inch from your ear in a hushed tone and his arm around you so comfortably you may begin to forget it's even there.

Ever your biggest fan, Columbina wants you to do all sorts of things, not for any discernible reason. She just claims you're quite adorable. She absolutely must see the face you make after a kiss, and when someone touches your face, when you have your hair pulled and how flushed your face is when her hands travel down from your face toward your body. Of course, she will largely refrain from going too far in the presence of others, though she is touchy, almost like dangling off you, and most importantly, she is hopelessly convincing. Regardless of whether you told yourself at the start of the night that you would not hear a word of her requests, it began so slowly and spiralled so quickly that giving her just a little more leeway won't be too bad, right? It'll be fine to allow her to lay he head down on your chest and wrap her arms around you, continuing to speak to others all the while capturing all of your attention, and with how sleepy she sounds, you imagine you have hers as well with what little energy she has to spare still contributing to the conversation.

Dottore is usually such a butch that you initially thought getting him drunk would only make him bitchier, but one drink in and his experience with alcohol is showing. By the second, he claims to not want any more, and god forbid someone tries to convince him a third is a good idea because he will proceed to complain of feeling sick and deflate until he can leave. His second, however…his second has him talking shop, just not the way you thought it might. He's telling you about all these things that—while certainly not completely objectively interesting—have him genuinely smiling even just a little as he passionately explains the many things he has pursued solely based on whims and fixations. For a man who seldom speaks to anyone, drinks get him talking, and with no inclination to stop him, you sit and listen as he tells you about the ways his segments are made and how he went about discovering and acquiring the materials to do so. He wants you to come with him to his lab so he can show you these things, but with very little desire to allow him to accidentally ruin something of his while drunk, you quickly dissuade him from that and decide to take him elsewhere to let him cool off instead.

Conservative in his drinking in the first place, Pierro does not allow himself much freedom to relax in a setting where he has to watch everyone, at least at the start of the night when tensions are still high, and everyone is sensible enough to remember their quarrels with each other. as the night progresses, however, the small sips of his drink become more frequent, and his appearance follows suit, hair a bit dishevelled from the number of times he's touched it, clothing loosened to allow himself more room to breathe and hands often finding their way to you as he speaks, resting on your shoulder or on your thighs, fingers brushing against your cheek or thumb tracing your lips. to be honest you kind of like him like this, less reserved but restrained enough to be fighting his own resolve not to do something that may be too forward. You can tell in the way that resolve and the will to fight against his own wants slips away bit by bit, touches lasting longer, kisses first on your forehead finding their way to your lips and his arm, which had been resting on the table, finally around your waist as you both walk back to whichever of your respective rooms finds you first.