#but it should be for the simple joy of creation

[desert-anne]

kind of fascinating what seven years of unfettered internet access has done to the splatoon fanbase

[diejager]

Hallo! Truly loved the MonsterAU stories! Wonderful, amazing writing!

Would it be possible for you to write: what if human!reader was turned into a chimera?

Akin to this:

Feel free to ignore!

Chimæra

Pairing: Monster 141 x Chimera!reader

Cw: science experiment, human torture, human testing, gore?, blood, canon-typical violence, unethical human experiments, kidnapping, child abuse, malnutrition, child neglect, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.6k (A/N): credit to @bluegiragi’s monster 141 designs.

They were tipped off by an anonymous source that some shady and highly illegal things were being done in a small and remote town near the border of Belarus, their ongoings unknown to both the government and public of their country, but someone had given Laswell a file containing all the horrific tests conducted within the closed walls of the innocuous-looking compound —a laboratory dressed as a simple military base. The folder held snapshots of emails and files sent between scientists and researchers, small indications of what was being done to both humans and monsters, yet withholding important intel about certain things. It disclosed the location, the names and faces of every worker and leading figure in the compound, the number of security and their schedules, and what was done, but not what was truly happening, it left small clues, sublet words here and there with hidden meanings —never clear images, blurry ones as if the person was in a rush.

Despite not having clear indications of the illegal activities, Laswell had enough to have 141 sent to take it down, to bring the dehumanising lab to its ground and burn it down. She didn’t have trouble convincing them, it was telling enough to let them read the condensed files for them to read, to see themselves the monstrosity being done to children and monsters they took, kidnapped from around the world to be left at the deceitful hands of crazed scientists. There wasn’t much to be found outside it, the base wore the facade of a benevolent patron, bearing the crest of kindhearted investors wanting to rebuild rundown houses and reconstruct rough and broken roads and paved streets in the town they took to hide. It worked for the most part, they profited from this by acting without raising any suspicion from anyone, neither the authorities nor the people. 

“Christ,” Gaz swore, looking down at the words in the file he received, the teased truth and the dreadful treatments through a thick layer of secrets and subtle wording, the only clear intel was from the straightforward emails sent to and from researchers and the heads of the facility, unabashed and shameless bragging of their success and the narrative to which these subjects could be used. “Why did it take so long?”

A recurrent theme of these was about a certain subject, it was about C34, spoken with such pride and joy about their creation, the work of the new world and the future made within these walls. Most emails were the exchanges between them about C34’s training, the ongoing treatments and every successful mission and exercises, they spoke of C34 as if they were a dog, a rabid mutt they captured and took on the task of domesticating it. It was demeaning, degrading and cruel, to look at another being as something lower, something needing domestication —it went against every rule and law put in place to protect humanity, the many conventions sworn to protect the goodwill and security of the innocents.

“We’ve had our suspicions before,” Laswell sighed, the images of the screen switching with the small click of her control, laser pointing at the images of various weapons cache and illegally procured weapons. “There was a slip up in the shipping, it was dropped here-” she motioned to a circled area in the map, a closeup of a secluded road near the town, “and we were able to retrace it to the facility. We needed more intel about the facility before acting and we needed to know what we're facing here, if we should send a team or send you.”

“What now?” Price tilted his head back, smoke leaving the sides of his frown, a deep and unpleasant one. He couldn’t even look at the intel given with a straight face, the shadowed truth of cruelty and dehumanising acts done by humans. “Figured you send us after seeing this, Laswell?”

Laswell nodded, jumping to another slide, showing blurred images of subject C34, a blurry figure, tall and imposing in every way possible. They stood high, stature seemingly one belonging to a monster or hybrid: on four legs and the wide, familiar shape of wings, everything about C34 cried monster. Perhaps one they captured as a child, taken from their mother and kept in this cell. There were many pictures of this one, blurry and disfigured, but others had smaller shapes, the size of children with various characteristics. 

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus!” Soap spat, disgust dripping from his tone in waves, unending as were the other’s curses, each holding their level of horror and repugnance. His face was wound tight, brows dipped lowly and lips pursed, he balled his fists, anger rising within him with every image he saw, the deplorable conditions and the care given to the monsters —what could they even expect from this shady company engineering monster and human DNA to fit their preferred narrative, for money, for reputation, for strength. “We ‘ave tae do somethin’ about this, Price!”

Soap - Johnny - had always been the more emotional one, letting his good heart lead his decisions when the situation seemed to fit it. His wolf made him more susceptible to emotional attachment, a pack mentality driven deeply into his mind and heart, he was viciously loyal and wore his heart on his sleeve, uncaring of how he’d be hurt by a betrayal, he simply saw the best in the world, something many couldn’t after a while, but Soap could, Johnny was a good man at heart. That’s why he reacted the most out of everyone, voicing his distaste and hate, his need for revenge and the sanctity of the lives being stolen in the facility. 

Soap pushed Price to agree, seeing no reason not to lead the breach, to uncover everything done to innocent lives. His eyes connected to the man hidden in the darkness, his blue eyes gleaming with fierce justice, a contrast to the wraith who lay in silence, abhorrent and seething quietness. Ghost peered at him, head tilted up with white pupils darkened by black eyes, death layering off him with calmness. He gave Soap a curt nod, affirmation for him to continue to voice his mind, to help those in need. 

“Seems like it’s been decided, Kate,” Price gave her a lopsided smirk, amber eyes narrowed with what could be read as anger, teeth sinking into the girth of his cigar, ash falling. “When are we going?”

Her lips parted in a proud grin, eyes gleaming with something dark and wrathful. She leaned on the table, head held high and shoulder broad while she flicked off the projector:

“Wheels up at 1500 tomorrow.”

You stared down the man before you, watching him tremble under your cold gaze, steps hesitant to approach you despite being seated, body prone on the hard floor you called a bed. He was new, possibly recently employed and his boss - or his direct manager - played a dirty game with him. It was some kind of rite of passage for every new employee courageous enough to accept their recruitment, all bright-eyed geniuses wanting to build their place on earth with forthgoing discovery, desperate and narcissistic; yet they were so easily tricked into you cage, locked in by cackling and grinning guards and coworkers. 

He smelled young, fresh-faced and a bit nervous, most were when they first saw you. You remembered everyone who walked in, the smell of fear and anxiety, the disgusting scent oozing off their bodies, rotten and putrid like a rotting corpse. You would’ve gagged and choked if you weren’t used to it, having grown close to the smell of death, calling the reaper your friend. You weren’t bothered by him, only the cart he was wheeling over, a big and heavy cooler that smelled fresh. He was made to bring you food by his boss, a cruel joke played on every new scientist who was always so eager to meet you before cowering in terror once the lock clicked. 

Standing before your third cage, he unlocked the small hatch and, with effort and a loud grunt, pushed the cooler into the hole, big enough for a big cooler but small enough to fit your arm through it. You waited until he stumbled away, distancing him from you before reaching for the container, it was light, weighing little in your palm. They fed you raw meat, sometimes buying the fresh catch of a Belarus hunter, usually an elk or a wild boar, but if they were lucky, a bison or a bear, other times they would have conserved meat shipped from outside the town, bigger cities or outside the border. 

Today was an elk, the meat cold and free of rot, it smelled as good as a fresh kill did, bloody and heady. You ripped into it without care, tuning out the loud retch from the scientist as you gorged on your meal, claws tearing it in half and biting into the bloody meat. Blood rolled down your lip, painting your cheeks crimson and staining the cream-coloured rag they considered a shirt. It would be changed after your meal, as it always was. Despite the elk weighing around six hundred kilograms, you finished it quickly, with pointed teeth cutting and pulling flaps of meat and ligament, blood spraying and dirtying the metal ground near the hatch. 

It was filling, albeit cold. You cleaned your hands of blood, licking it off like a grooming cat, tongue laving over the sharp edge of your claw and under your blunt fingernails. You peered at him from under your lashes, eyes gleaming in the darkness. You watched - pleased with yourself - him shudder, face growing green with unnerve at your show. You knew he was desperate to leave, to get a breath of fresh air outside of your cell, you understood his fear and wanted him to suffer for helping your owner, the man watching over your training, but you wanted him gone before he emptied his stomach on your floor. So you pushed the cooler out, clawed arm breaching past the hatch to leave it farther from your cage. 

He left hastily, legs shaky and face pale. 

“I want a bison next time,” you growled, words rolling off your tongue huskily from its rare use. 

It looked as inconspicuous through the NVGs as it did in the pictures, a few grey buildings built lowly to hide an immense labyrinth dug into the ground, secret passages crossing unending halls with locked doors and tipped with surveillance cameras to watch over the whole facility. They studied the very walls that made this place a secret fortress, from the body to its heart, like mounting a brigade against a castle, Laswell’s team found the few hidden entrances that connected to the lesser-used passages, winding through many hallways and wide vents, big enough for humans but too tight for monsters the size of C34. Task Force 141 led the mission, infiltrating the base under the darkness of night where they could crawl and slink through shadows to catch what they hunted. They were joined by Marines, all experienced and skillful, wearing scars like a badge of honour. It would either be a quick in and out, or a long and strenuous infiltration. 

Price took Gaz and led half of the Marines through the west, breaching the lab from above. They pushed in steadily, relaying information and physical cues to Watcher - Laswell - with a body cam recording everything they saw, the facade they wore above ground, hiding their dark enterprise. Ghost, as usual, has Soap watch his six, following closely behind him with puppy-like loyalty and the other half of the Marines. Team Two’s - Delta - mission started through the underground passage they sniffed out, a long and unwinding hall that went straight through the heart of the facility. Ghost’s team went dark, needing the cover of silence to stay hidden in a highly protected area of the base to run this clandestine mission. They spoke only when needing to, to make calls, to reaffirm intel or to let both Bravo and Watcher know a change, the tech team in the temporary safe house a few miles away from the compound watched through the cams, from the subtle change in the air to a jarring lead to what was happening. 

While Price and Gaz worked on creating a distraction, taking a load off team Delta’s shoulders, they could work through the system faster and more efficiently with the fire taken off their backs and front. It was controlled chaos for both teams, creating a mass discordance within the enemy lines: panicked higher-ups at the sudden attack, while they had a small squad of personal soldiers, they were unprepared, taken by surprise by both teams attacking on two fronts; and confused mercenaries, their quiet and boring schedules made them lose the edge of suspicion, of wariness towards what awaited them and the sheltered job with little to no action apart from a few failed escape attempts by the subjects.

“Delta 0-1 moving in,” Ghost mumbled into the coms, his team following him closely, rifle held tightly with the muzzle pointed forward as they crossed the threshold of section C, heading towards the one holding the monster subjects. 

They left behind them groups of bodies, slumped over the walls or limp on the ground, blood painting the sterilised and glossy walls, turning the once white hall into a grotesque place, dead bodies covering the length of the corridor like the ones they walked through before, leaving the stench of death that even the Marines could sniff out. It wasn’t clean - they weren’t aiming for it to be clean - but they wouldn’t need it to be clean when the Laswell would send a clean-up team to deal with this, Ghost would steal a bite before they arrived, quenching his hunger for revenge with them. 

A few guards stayed to watch over the cells, doors unlocked by a keycard that most guards kept in their back pocket, Ghost would have to take one off a dead body. Under Ghost’s cover, Soap dashed to the other side of the hall, taking a few with him to corner the mercenaries, boxing them into a closed hallway until they all died. Despite a few of the Marines taking shots, bruising the skin under their plate, black and blue blossoming like a bloody flower under the thin layer of skin, they kept their heads high and minds clear, moving forward without a misstep or hesitation. Soap swiped a few cards from the bodies, throwing one to Ghost. 

“Delta 0-1 to Watcher, can you hear me?”

“Solid copy, Ghost,” Laswell voice rang out clearly, reaching his ears in seconds.

“We found the cells,” his eyes roved over them, white paint over thick, cement walls to hold whatever they locked into the cells, perhaps the children the saw or the big one, C34.

“Do you have the keycards?”

“Affirm,” Ghost growled slowly, hearing Laswell's confirmation to continue. “Going in.”

He tapped the pad, a loud beep ringing in their ears as the lock’s mechanism creaked to life, unlatching from its metal hold to let them in. Both he and Soap walked in, leaving the others to watch their backs while they surveyed the first room. It was dimly lit as it was bare of any decorations apart from a visible toilet, a small sink and a few metal beds. It looked like any usual cells they came across, made barren and empty of anything useful to prevent the prisoners from escaping or causing a ruckus, but the people they kept in these cells were children. Soap swore under his breath at the sight of children huddled together, seemingly no older than 12, he lowered his rifle. They were backed into a corner, three older kids holding a younger one in their arms, protecting her from them, from whoever meant to harm these children. 

They looked malnourished, left to slowly rot in these cement boxes until the scientist found something worthwhile in them, their cheeks sunken in, eyes droopy and swollen with bruises - they were beaten, it made something ugly rear its head inside Ghost dead heart - and lips dried. One was armless, having wings that they used to cover both of their cellmates, naked with only feathers covering their body, this one looked more like a harpy than it did human. The two others had arms, both having the lower half of a mammal, neither of them was sure which four-legged mammal it was, but one had a pair of wings, while the other’s back was bare of anything. 

“We’ve found the children.”

You could hear the chaos from your cell, the blaring alarm and the smell of death. The building shook from its foundation, vibration emanating from both the ground floor and the basement, just farther from your hall, the closed and sectioned-off area. They separated you from the defective ones, all your young mistakes they made after achieving success —you. They tried to recreate it, but it never came out how they wanted it. Maybe it was a mistake on their part or maybe it was the lack of a certain gene in their DNA, a subtle difference that you and the rest had. You didn’t want to know and you didn’t want them to succeed a second time, it was painful, the shift, the tests and the change, the storm of pain, terror and confusion weren’t worth this power. 

You could hear the booming sound of gunfire, a loud ricochet of the bullet when the nitrocellulose sparked and sent the bullet outwards, finding its destination in the warm flesh of human guards. You usually enjoyed this kind of chaos if you knew what started it, and laughed when something caused trouble for your captors, but you were cautious of this one. You neither knew who thought to disturb the peace nor did you know who was behind this, their scents strange and the sound of steps unknown. All you knew was that their steps were heavy, out of breath but pushing their way into - what you thought to be - section C. The place they kept the young and willful. 

You might be blinded by your cell, but the guards outside your confinement knew how to talk, their chatter and barking orders loud enough for you to hear through the thick walls. From them, you knew they were strangers, unknown players on your board of pawns. You didn’t know their goal, whether they were here to let you out or keep you in a cage of their making, but you knew they were a gamble on your fate. As the noise got closer, you sat down, crossed your paws and waited, cautiously awaiting to see what your verdict would be.

Strangely enough, there was a different section, separated from the other one by many gates and stricter security, but they were able to break through it. Security was concentrated in one hall as if the monster they locked at the end of this hallway was of big importance. It had higher security, stronger and thicker. Ghost wondered if it was to keep the monster in or keep people out, either way, this meant that they found the thing they first came here for: the trained and dangerous subject C34. 

Ghost was apprehensive about opening this metal door, built taller than any doors he’d seen, it was as wide as it was tall, metres over what would be considered normal for a human or monster, similar to the wide gates that protected British castles, tall and imposing, but the most worrying was it’s vast amount of security measures. He thought back to the blurrier giant he saw in the picture, their shape indescribable and otherworldly, almost alien-like. His eyes met Soap’s reassuring ones, standing steadfast and unyielding to do good in the world. So with a nod, Ghost worked through the locks and scans of the heavy, metal door made to keep this cement cage closed. This door clicked loudly, echoing down the hall with ominous intent, foreseeing something damming and destructive. 

Yet they hadn’t expected to see another cage within the cage, a box made of reinforced glass, large and robust and inside of it was another cage, a rough metal one with bars for walls, a sick joke of a bird’s gilded cage. It would’ve seemed almost exaggerated to have three layers - three different cages - to keep one subject safely locked up until he caught sight of the monster. Lying on the cold, metal ground with legs folded in, tail curled around them and staring at both him and Soap with cautious curiosity. It looked like a gryphon if it were more reptilian than a mammal, this monster had a human torso, a head wearing a stoic expression, dressed in rags. Where there would normally be legs was the body of a bird, an eagle perhaps from the golden-brown plumage and reptilian legs from the knee down, followed by a fully scaled back, hind legs and a strong tail. Each toe was tipped with a sharp claw, big and deadly if it got its hands on someone, it could easily rip into anyone without putting in much effort. The biggest thing about it was the folded wings, feathered and equipped with a talon. If it could fly, these wings would be powerful. 

He understood why they kept it locked, it was neither man, monster or hybrid. It was a beast of human creation, a creature made to be at the peak of its condition. It was smart, he could see it, the glint in its eyes and the pursed lips, mien kept monotone and calm —observant. 

What did Laswell sign them into? 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly

[yanderes-galore]

Could you do "You need someone to take care of you." And "If they touch you, I'll kill them. It's that simple." With platonic dogday?

Sure! I haven't written for Smiling Critters in a while. For context, this is my version of DogDay.

Prompts Here

My Version of DogDay

Yandere! Platonic! DogDay Prompts

"You need someone to take care of you."

"If they touch you, I'll kill them. It's that simple."

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Violence, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Experimentation, Blood, Kidnapping, Murder, Forced companionship.

Ever since he was first created, DogDay was fond of you. You were the first face he saw upon his successful creation. A scientist and caretaker who worked at Playcare.

Playtime Co. had always experimented with creating life. They had made countless creatures combined with toys. The Smiling Critters line was merely one success.

DogDay was always told he was meant to be the leader. He was meant to lead his fellow Smiling Critters and take care of the kids. Naive upon his creation... He followed every order.

Unlike most adults in this place, you were surprisingly humane to the Smiling Critter experiments. You viewed every single one of them as your children in a way. They were no doubt one of the greatest outcomes in this place.

DogDay was the one who imprinted on you the most. Plush form or not, the dog followed you like you're his master. To him, you were... You gave him life and care!

He wishes to show you how much he cares!

It was a common sight for DogDay to follow you. You could be doing paperwork and the living mascot enters the room to watch you. You tell him he should be watching the kids in the orphanage, but he doesn't listen.

A dog should be loyal to his master. His friends have the children covered! Why don't you let him care for you too?

DogDay never leaves you be, often smothering you with affection. Even after experiments, the dog comes to you for comfort. You mean everything to him.

Especially when his world comes crashing down.

DogDay lived a happy life until the Hour of Joy. Afterwards... there was nothing but chaos. Experiments went haywire and frenzied. It became a revolution.

He nearly lost sight of you.

The Hour of Joy only brought massacre to Playtime Co. Many died, humans and experiments alike. In fact, many of the Smiling Critters didn't survive except CatNap and DogDay.

Blood coated every wall and floor. Most humans who couldn't escape were devoured. Even the once happy sight of Playcare looked like Hell.

As you were trying to escape, you avoided the experiments the best you could. You snuck through halls and did your best to make it out of the Playcare. Only to hear the heavy sound of footsteps approach you from behind.

"Where are you going?"

The voice is deep yet familiar, causing you to turn around. Towering over you stood DogDay, the Smiling Critter always attached to your hip. He looked concerned, looking you over with a worried expression.

"You... You aren't leaving, right?" The large orange dog monster asks, stalking closer. "You can't survive out there alone—!"

You shuffle back, keeping your distance. DogDay appears hurt by your reluctance. The large Smiling Critter tries not to make sudden movements... slowly backing you into a corner with that worried smile on his face.

"You need someone to take care of you." DogDay pleads, wishing you'd stop being so skittish. There's no way you'd abandon him, right? You... You can't—!

You won't survive a second in this Hell.

"Why are you so scared...?" DogDay whimpers, tail swaying as he keeps trying to get closer. "You should feel lucky I found you! I'll always find you, angel...."

You go to run but DogDay notices, eyes widening as he cuts you off. He can't just let you leave, can he? Not with all the bloodshed...

They'd eat you alive out there.

"Please, angel, listen to your pal...!" DogDay whimpers, the sound strangely like that of a real canine. "If you leave, you'll get hurt! You don't want that do you? Plus... you'd never abandon your pal, right?"

DogDay manages to get close enough to pull you into his furred chest, tail thumping against the door you desperately wanted to get through. The smell of blood, musk, and the faintest hint if vanilla meets your nose. You push against the beast, but his grip doesn't relent.

"The others out there would tear you apart..." DogDay murmurs before squeezing you tighter. "But don't worry! I'll protect you..."

You're then scooped up into the large dog's arms, dragging you along with him back into Playcare. You struggle but he never lets you go. After all... to him, this is your home.

"If they touch you, I'll kill them. It's that simple!" DogDay chirps as though what he said was innocent. He said it as though that was meant to be endearing. He really was like a dog with their owner.

DogDay wants you happy, safe, and beside him. He knows you'd never abandon him deep in this facility. He's meant to protect you, defend you with his life, show you he loves you...

While DogDay thinks of ways to care for you, to keep his sanity in this place by clinging to you, you stare at the exit longingly. You doubt anywhere is safe. You're pretty sure you'll die here...

Yet DogDay, no matter what, will remain loyal to only you in the end...

A good dog should do anything to stay beside his master.

[bloogers-boogers]

—Swap au— part 1?

Once upon a time there was an angel named Adam The Angel of Life: He was God’s most perfect angel whose curiosity and joy brought hope to those of heaven and was considered the pure light of what heaven was truly all about.

However hidden by the eyes of every heaven born and God’s, behind closed doors, the counsel of heaven would push higher expectations on the angel than one could ever expect the angel of life to be given.

The elders were never pleased in regard of whatever Adam did or would punish constantly for not being able to do enough. Neither did they believed he was the epitome of beauty and perfection as God would claim he was, eventually, this lead the angel to do drastic measures to prevent any judgment of his person. Modifying his appearance to a less friendlier look, almost considerably scary beyond the opposite of perfection or beauty. Adam would hide behind a mask to cover the shame and disgust of his skin. No longer feeling proud to be content of his body or face; replaced with insecurities brought from those who he considered righteous and perfect. To those he saw as his family; those who were always right and should obey their every rule.

This caused stress and sadness to the angel, covering it with a smile and feigned oblivion. No one truly understood Adam, neither did he ever felt like he belonged or welcomed in the world of the devine.

And from the dirt came Lucifer and Sera, equals in every way: the first man and the first woman. God’s most perfect creation.

The first humans to wonder the earth, and the very beginning of humanity.

What one wouldn’t expect was for the two humans to not get along and argue plenty. Both stubborn and prideful to not submit to the other. Sera wanted control over him and to follow whats ordered, Lucifer wanted freedom and refused to obey. Neither wanted to give in to their wants and kept distant.

With time Lucifer began yearning companionship, but through his solitude he embraced his talents to create and dream. Unlike Sera, Lucifer went beyond what the angels ever imagined a human to be. He’d dream and dream so much that his hands were seen like brushes building and recreating those images to perfection. He began small; a simple robe made out of wool from sheep to mimic those of an angels attire, he’d discovered a sense of ‘style’ by painting his cheeks red claiming it made him feel special, different, a unique attribute of his for distinction and personality. He’d build toys or even cook extravagant food and gifts to the angels. He’d even create a new language to confuse the above and to speak with the animals.

Lucifer’s creativity stunned the entirety of heaven.

His beauty was enhancing to one’s eyes, his voice was considered angelic, alluring to their ears and his charisma captivated everyone.

Lucifer was the epitome of perfection.

And within Adam’s curiosity he convinced Lilith the highest seraphim to allow him to venture earth. With delight he wondered through the garden of Eden, the uniqueness and new wonders left him speechless. He admired the animals that lived peacefully and harmony inside the paradise creation his father would talk wonders about; the countless of fruit and vegetables, the greenery of the planet’s nature in its entirety and the beautiful blue but changing sky. But he hasn’t yet met with the creations so he kept his expectations low as he saw every form of life as perfect. He wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to meet the humans, feeling slight fear of them rejecting him into their world.

He kept his hands away from touching it all fearing to stain its beauty. He admired the life inside Eden, wherever he’d look there was life; animals, plants, the air, inside water, even under the dirt it had little wiggling creatures living inside there.

And throughout his journey never did he feel frightened or threatened by the creatures there.

Earth had welcomed him with open arms and he never felt more warm and comfortable. As if he had belonged there too.

In one of Lucifer’s many escapes from his overly obedient but controlling wife. He found himself following his favorite path that lead to one of the most beautiful places in Eden.

But little did the first man know, that the most beautiful thing in all Eden would not be anything belonging of the garden but an angel.

Behind bushes and trees he almost stumbled to the ground when he came across a figure, his eyes landed in a very tall bird looking creature. He was beautiful. From the golden of his wings to the brightness of his halo, aura and the golden blinding eyes of his face; like two suns burning his every core.

Lucifer was beyond fascinated, he had seen angels. Plenty actually. Every one of them were unique and very divine looking.

But this one stole everything of its purity and was assembled into one; an ethereal being he had yet to discover. He was different from the other angels, the unique appearance added another touch of making him stand out from any other. Lucifer thought his face was very expressive unlike the other angels and that just made him look even more friendlier to approach.

Aside from that, the angel showed much wonder and joy to every single little thing he’d find in the garden it made Lucifer’s heart beat fast. Still hidden however he followed him watching his every move, unlike the other angels this one kept his hands away from touching anything however his gentleness and kindness embraced those around him without even trying to reach out. And, oh, did Lucifer wanted to reach out to him. The animals would nuzzle against him while walking past them looking through the depths of the garden.

Lucifer was captivated. Enchanted by whatever magic the angel held on to his every being.

Lucifer had fallen in love without realizing it.

When Lucifer mustered the courage to approach Adam, he had offered him a fruit basket as a welcome. Adam was stunned by the gift but grateful nonetheless of the first man’s kindness. The gesture of welcoming someone was foreign for Adam; but the simple gesture alone brought reassurance and a relief to an anxious soul like himself. He expressed his gratitude with a golden feather as he had noticed the first man’s eyes captive on his wings.

Adam was also speechless of the perfect creation of God. Lucifer was a being he’s never seen before, there was no denial in the exterior beauty of his form, and even as much as he didn’t look too far off from an angel the first man was a curious being like himself! Lucifer was a free spirit, he had a very unique way of thinking and abilities. For example he is far more talkative than any of the angels he’s met, very expressive, his skin was very fleshy looking but there was something in his eyes he doubted he’d ever see in angel, and that was… life. So much life in one being it made his heart pound rapidly.

Their first meeting was short for Lucifer’s displeasure. But ever since their meeting both beings couldn’t help but bring themselves from thinking about the other. Lucifer couldn’t help but to dream of a life with Adam. Adam couldn’t help but to find himself thinking how lucky Lucifer was to live in such a marvelous planet like earth.

Both dreamers wanted a sense of freedom to choose what their heart desires.

But that meant breaking rules and going against heaven.

[kentobb]

PRESAGE | CHAPTER TWO

Characters: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Female Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Angst?

Author’s note: I feel like I should make a masterlist. Lmk what you guys think.

5 year later…

Five years had passed since the graduation, and Ushijima had become a household name in the world of volleyball. As a key player for the Schweiden Adlers, he had risen to fame with his exceptional skills and unyielding determination. His powerful spikes and steadfast presence on the court were often the highlight of sports news. Paparazzi followed him relentlessly, their cameras clicking like mechanical insects whenever he stepped out. His face adorned billboards, and his matches were televised events that drew millions of viewers.

Yet, despite the adulation and the accolades, a certain emptiness lingered in his heart. The constant attention was exhausting, and the endless cycle of training and competition left little room for personal reflection. It was this weariness that drove him to make a decision he rarely indulged in: he would take a break. He would return to his roots, to the serene landscapes of the Miyagi prefecture, and visit his mother for a month.

After informing his manager and ensuring his schedule was clear, Ushijima packed a small bag and took a quiet train ride out of Tokyo. The journey was a welcome change from the hustle of city life, the rhythmic clatter of the tracks and the rolling vistas of the countryside soothing his frazzled nerves.

He arrived in Miyagi to a brisk spring breeze and the familiar, comforting sights of his childhood.

His mother’s house stood as it always had, a modest home nestled among fields that stretched out under the wide sky. She greeted him with a warm embrace, her eyes sparkling with pride and joy.

“There’s my big star!” She said as she hugged him.

They spent the first evening catching up, sharing simple meals, and enjoying the unhurried pace of rural life.

It was a balm to his soul, and he felt a peace he hadn't known in years.

After a few days of rest, Ushijima decided to visit an old friend. Tendō Satori, his eccentric best friend from high school, had opened a chocolate store not far from Shiratorizawa Academy. The store, aptly named "Tendō's Treats," had quickly gained popularity for its unique and whimsical confections. Ushijima had followed its success from afar, often receiving care packages filled with Tendō's latest creations.

The shop was a cheerful, inviting place with bright colors and playful decorations that reflected Tendō’s personality. As Ushijima pushed open the door, a small bell chimed, and the rich scent of chocolate enveloped him. Tendō was behind the counter, his trademark grin widening as he looked up and saw his old friend.

“Waka-chan!” Tendō exclaimed, vaulting over the counter with surprising agility. “What a surprise! I didn’t know you were in town!”

Ushijima returned the grin with a rare smile of his own. “I needed a break,” he explained simply.

Tendō clapped him on the back and led him to a cozy corner of the shop. They sat among shelves filled with colorful chocolates, reminiscing about old times and catching up on the present. Tendō’s stories were as animated as ever, his laughter infectious.

“And here I thought you’d be too busy with all those interviews and matches to remember little old me,” Tendō teased, his eyes twinkling.

“You’re not easily forgotten,” Ushijima replied, a hint of warmth in his voice.

Ushijima took a sip of his hot chocolate, his mind wandering back to their high school days. The memories were bittersweet, tinged with nostalgia and regret. He turned to Tendō, who was leaning back in his chair, a contented smile on his face as he savored his own drink.

“Tendō,” Ushijima began, his voice breaking the comfortable silence. “Have you seen anyone from our class recently?”

Tendō’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Hmm, not too many, but I do keep in touch with a few. Why do you ask?”

Ushijima shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Just curious. It’s been a while since we graduated.”

Tendō grinned and reached under the counter, pulling out a well-worn yearbook. “Ah, perfect timing! I was just looking through this the other day. Let’s take a trip down memory lane.”

He placed the yearbook on the table and opened it to a random page. The pictures and names of their classmates stared back at them, frozen in time. Tendō began flipping through the pages, pointing out familiar faces and providing updates.

“Ah, the usual suspects. Goshiki is still obsessed with volleyball, training kids now. Semi’s in a band, believe it or not. Shirabu went into medicine, as expected. He’s working crazy hours but loves it.”

Ushijima nodded, taking it all in. There was a comfort in hearing about his old teammates, their paths diverging yet somehow staying true to the people they were in high school. But these updates were not the ones he truly sought.

Ushijima nodded absently, his eyes scanning the pages but not really absorbing the information. He wasn’t interested in his old friends, not today. His mind was elsewhere, on someone else entirely.

Tendō noticed his distraction and paused, his expression turning more serious. “Waka-chan, you seem... different. Is there someone specific you’re wondering about?

Ushijima hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. I’ve been trying to find her for years, but it’s like she vanished…” He breathed, “Do you know what happened to her? To Y/N”

Tendō’s eyes softened with understanding. He flipped through the yearbook with more purpose, stopping on a page featuring a picture of Ushijima and you sitting together in the library. Both engrossed in books, having a tutoring session, but the warmth your expression was unmistakable.

“I remember this,” Tendō said softly, tapping the picture. “You two were inseparable back then.”

Ushijima stared at the picture, memories flooding back. The late nights studying, the shared dreams, the quiet moments of understanding. His chest tightened with a mix of longing and regret.

Tendō closed the yearbook gently, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve heard a bit about her. She’s working as a waitress in a restaurant now. And... she has a kid.”

Ushijima’s eyes widened in surprise. “A kid? Is she married?”

Tendō shook his head. “No, there’s no husband or father in the picture as far as I know. I tried visiting her once to see how she was doing, but she avoided me. I didn’t want to push, especially knowing...”

He trailed off, but Ushijima understood. “Especially knowing that I broke her heart.”

Tendō nodded. “Yeah. Waka-chan. I didn’t want to make things harder for her.”

Ushijima leaned back in his chair, feeling a wave of emotions crash over him. Confusion, regret, a hint of heartbreak. But beneath it all, a deep, abiding yearning. Even after all these years, his heart still ached for you.

“I never wanted to hurt her,” he said quietly. “I thought I was doing what was best for both of us.”

Tendō reached across the table and placed a comforting hand on his friend’s arm. “I know. You did what you thought was right. But sometimes, life doesn’t go the way we plan.”

Ushijima nodded, his gaze distant. “She has a child now. I’m glad she’s moved on, even if it means she had to move on without me.”

Tendō’s eyes were filled with sympathy. “Maybe it’s not too late, Waka-chan. Maybe you can still make things right, or at least find some closure.”

Ushijima looked at his friend, the weight of years of unresolved feelings pressing down on him. “Do you really think so?”

Tendō smiled gently. “I do. It’s never too late to try.”

“Can you tell me the name of the restaurant where she works?”

Tendō’s eyes widened slightly, and he paused before answering. “It’s called Sakura’s Garden. Are you planning to see her?”

Ushijima nodded. “I need to. Maybe I’ll run into her...by coincidence.”

Tendō gave a small nod of understanding. “Coincidence, Waka-chan?”

The walk to Sakura’s Garden felt longer than it should have, each step echoing with the weight of anticipation. As he approached the restaurant, his heart pounded in his chest. He stood outside, peering through the window.

And there you were, moving gracefully between tables. You looked different—older, more mature, and… tired.

He couldn’t stop looking at you. The years had changed you, but there was no mistaking the woman he had once loved. His mind swirled with memories and questions, unable to tear his gaze away.

“What are you doing here?” a familiar voice demanded, cutting through his thoughts.

Ushijima turned to see Asami, your best friend from high school, standing there with a look of disbelief and anger.

“Asami,” he began, trying to keep his voice calm. “I’m just visiting town.”

Asami’s eyes narrowed. “You need to stay away from her, from Y/N.”

Ushijima was taken aback by the intensity of her words. “Why? I don’t understand.”

Before Asami could respond, a small voice interrupted them. “Aunty?”

They both turned to see a little boy standing nearby, looking up at them with curious eyes. Ushijima’s breath caught in his throat. The boy had the same dark, intense eyes he saw in the mirror every day, the same stoic expression.

Asami’s eyes flickered with panic as she glanced at the boy. “Go sit down, sweetie,” she said, her voice strained but gentle. The boy nodded and returned to his seat, casting one last look at Ushijima.

Ushijima watched the boy, his mind racing. The resemblance was undeniable. He turned back to Asami, his voice filled with confusion.

Asami’s expression hardened again. “You need to leave, Ushijima.”

Ushijima’s thoughts were a whirlwind. He looked back at the boy, who was now quietly drawing, the resemblance striking.

Asami shook her head, her eyes filled with a mix of anger and pity. “Leave.”

Ushijima stood there, torn between the need to know the answer of his own question and the realization that his presence might cause more harm than good. He took one last look at the boy, feeling a pang of longing and regret.

“Please,” Asami whispered, her voice softening. “Let her be.”

With a heavy heart, Ushijima nodded slowly. He turned and began to walk away, each step feeling like a battle against the unresolved feelings and questions that plagued him. As he left, he couldn’t shake the image of the boy from his mind. The resemblance, the possibility—it was all too much to process.

But for now, he had no choice but to leave, carrying with him the weight of unanswered questions.

Why does that little boy looks like him?

Comments, notes and reblogs are appreciated! Feel free to let me know how you feel about this chapter <3

[giamee]

𝐂𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖!

╭─────────────────────── ( 🎐 )

even though you don't talk, they'll still find a way to listen

› 〉 📂 .ೃ | mute reader, jus some fluff really, bit on the short side

requested by @/anon

╰─➤ 💌 ₍₁₎ ok i should nawtttt have used this colour scheme im squinting like a rat at my screen tryna see what i'm saying. the title is 'cigarettes out the window' (shoutout tv girl) if u couldnt read it which i do not hold against u

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 GEPARD.

it's simply in his nature to look out for others, to ensure that everyone is alright. and when he meets you, he's thrown for a loop a little. because you are fine.

the first time he sees you is in serval's workshop- you're just leaving, and something compels him to make sure that he speaks to you, even if it's for a few fleeting moments before you leave and he most likely never sees you again.

it's a simple question of how your day is, but you simply offer him a small smile before ducking past him, scurrying out of the door that he held open.

he's puzzled at first- maybe it's something to do with him? did you not want to talk to him? but then his sister explains that you're mute, and now he feels like a fool.

and thus begins his attempts to talk to you.

he writes you little notes to begin with. luckily for him, you're a regular at serval's shop, always seemingly having some device or another broken and in need of repairing. serval rolls her eyes at the pair of you- at gepard for being an idiot (you can still hear, you don't need notes), and at you for your attempts to run into her brother as often as possible (those machines weren't really broken).

despite this, it was somewhat amusing to watch the pair of you attempt to flirt with each other. and somewhat cute when your attempts worked.

you kept each and every one of gepard's notes to you, as redundant as they were. his handwriting was a little scruffy, and if you looked at them hard enough you could spot the little tremors where he tried to make the lettering neat.

a special treat was when he decided to add little doodles to them. it was anyone's guess as to what they were supposed to be- you were pretty sure that one of them was supposed to be you- and your heart warmed amidst the chicken scratch and stick figures.

you decide to write your own note back to him. in the top right corner is a little sketch of him, on a similar level to his own creations, that you hope he'll appreciate alongside the note.

you give it to him along with your best smile, mentally capturing the look of joy on gepard's fave at your little gift to him. you were gone by then, shyness overtaking your urge to stay, so you could only imagined his face when he realised that what you had written to him was a formal request to take him out on a date.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 DAN HENG.

for dan heng to open up to someone new, several criteria have to be met.

for starters, he had to be at least a little bit comfortable around you. receptive, but not too probing or overbearing. rational, but not judgmental. open, but not too much.

in many ways, he was like a cat. you had to let him come to you.

and luckily for you, you seemed to fulfil those criteria.

as one of the newest additions to the astral express, you were in some sort of in-between phase of being one of them and a stranger. you communicated in your own ways, but you found yourself withdrawing to your room. it was overwhelming, this new environment.

it was only natural that you felt more drawn to dan heng more than anyone else. he had similar qualities to you- more introverted, tended to keep to himself. and, as you later found out, you both had a tendency to burn the midnight oil.

it became almost routine to run into him when you're both up late, wandering the astral express for some peace of mind. brief encounters with little nods sent your direction gradually evolved into longer moments spent basking in each other's presence, mostly in silence. but not always.

you both had your reasons to be up late- on the nights where dan heng looked more frazzled, a certain look in his eye, is when you began to piece him together.

he'd lend you some information of his own volition occasionally, telling you about the nightmare he had, recurring or not. there was just this certain quality to you, a look in your eye that made him feel like you truly did listen to him.

and he wouldn't trade your late-night rendevous for the world.

𝜗𝜚 honkai star rail masterlist

[medicine-san]

savanaclaw android [ au belongs to @ceruleancattail ]

[ okay I've felt better now, and as promised here full story with 🍩 and 🐺. unfortunately most context were lost because I tried too hard to keep it short ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ I do not speak english, I don't know how to write, this is purely me being dedicated to murphy's law. ]

tw: fluff jack fluff jack fluff jack

leona who funnily enough was bought not to be a miracle as what people originally intended him to be, but a kindergarten teacher.

who would've thought such high maintenance android would end up getting his hands wiping some kid's piss and puke off the floor, his rumoured high intelligence are nought but just for teaching mere children's knowledge. not like he can do anything, his owner need his help. it's in the contract. letting these tiny creatures pestering him, their tiny hands all over him or his tail or his ears. or having them fight to sit on his uncomfortably hard thighs when it's lunch time.

what an insult to his creation.

but recently, he began to experience an unexplainable series of lagging in his speech pattern. his eyes begin to blur at times. simple tasks beginning to feel like a burden as his head would dangerously overheat, even the kids could see the strain he's baring from how much he's scrunching his brows.

the sound, he'd say, the sound. it's annoying.

a sound of something stirring. everytime he heard the sound, his eye would hurt so bad as if it's scratching to come out of his eye socket. his students would just childishly claim it was a migraine, telling him he should rest more. "I could not have migraine you stupid cubs", is what he'd say if not because of the strict filter for his speech.

popup notifications begin to emerge, warning him of a foreign third party running his system. multiple non permitable access to his memory drive, he just now noticed that there are viruses corrupting his system. how could this be possible? he never turned his antivirus software off. is there a malpractice happening without him knowing?

and it doesn't take long for him to figure out the problem.

his eyes are the problem.

the images, the videos, continuously sent to a certain someone he could not mention as that will breach the TOS. even thinking this is already straining his thought process to the point of overheating.

his eyes are the reason.

and with that same eyes, he continues to stare at the messy mess. nonchalantly showing off his bloodied hand with bits of what could be assumed as remnants of skin and flesh to the watching eyes behind the screen. it is a bit dark, but they are not stupid.

especially not after the screen went temporarily blocked before it shows the face of a certain android, specks of blood can be seen on his face.

don't you think delivery guys got away quite easily?

you can be one of those annoying old men who think the whole world is their enemy and will not hesitate to shoot you for wanting to get your ball that accidentally got into his lawn, but will let his gate open for limited access to his front door if you're his delivery guy. well, as long as they keep their bloodthirsty dogs on leash at least. humans are not to be trusted.

maybe it's not the greatest job, but it's one that he enjoys doing. the rush to get everything on time, the competition to stay on top, the joy that comes with being able to see new places and faces. ruggie enjoys it all. can machines even feel joy? he may have no answer to that, but it is something akin to that, if he could describe it.

or at least, that's what the old lady told him. truly, how could she describe human emotion on him, a robot? do humans really have to push their human perspective on everything? that's why they keep getting themselves in stupid situation for being too emotionally attached to objects. but then that's why those heartslabyul ai software is all the hit right now.

because they are lonely.

the old lady is kind. really! she always greet him whenever he came to the area for deliveries. asking him about his day, about the weather, if he's working too hard. such young man shouldn't get his skin burned by the sun! she'd say. grandma, don't you think your concern is misplaced? worry about yourself first, instead of this young roaring machine. I'm still full of energy, and carefully oiled. my gears won't rust away anytime soon, and I'm not getting busted that easily. not while there's still people who need his service.

like this shaky hand that's reaching out of the crack of the door.

the wide, soulless eye staring at him, pleading for that magical key to the world of happiness. to see such unhappiness, and him having the power to change it, oh how thrilling! he couldn't control the grin from widening!

he loves this job, it helps more people to be happy.

for a guard dog, jack model is certainly quite a character. not in a bad way, it's just funny to see this over 190cm android tensing up for his monthly checkups. even while sitting down, he still manage to tower over the mechanic's smaller figure. his ears flatten whenever their hands reaching the inside of him for any loose bolts, quietly whimpering to himself whenever they bumped his circuits with their fragile fingers while checking him up. his sensory should've been turned off, so it's certainly not "pain" he's experiencing.

"calm down, puppy,"

"you're making this difficult for me."

it's difficult for him too. human, can't you see? the way you're talking to him, the way you're handling him, how you'd rub circles around his knuckles whenever he'd had a nasty fight with aggressors, or when you'd aggressively scratch his head and ears after every patch ups with them, cooing him with "good boy"s and "good job"s. all while smelling like oil and chemical, the clinking sound of equipments softly echoing in the workshop, his ears catching up lowly moans of other androids under their care, the buzzing noise of fading life all around the two of them.

how romantic, hell he could imagine himself getting a kiss too from how much his brain is replaying all the romantic scenarios on tv dramas he'd play BEFORE coming here. oh please do, just a peck on my head is all I want. touch my cheeks and pull them lightly, what I'd do just to feel you gracing me with your marks on me. those damned lines play by itself on his mind as he's staring directly at their face. taking notes of how their face scrunched when he's not staying still to their liking, or at how their shadowed figure igniting a certain scene that got his eyes drooping. his tail lightly drumming the chair he's sitting on, the artificial fur sweeping their pants tenderly.

sickeningly sweet.

as if he didn't just had a romantic awakening in the middle of what can be considered a butcher's shop of his kind.

[ihearasound]

Don’t think I’ve ever seen a story pinpoint so concisely the frustration that everything created under capitalism belongs to capitalism like Canto IV does. No matter your intentions for your creations, capitalism will take what you create and appropriate it. When Dongbaek said “Can you ensure your medicine will save everyone? If not, don’t bother with it” wasn’t about putting Dongrang down, it was because she knew what would happen to creations made “for the good of the people”. Dongrangs medicine is primarily used to keep people complacent, not to save them. Just like how the ID tag was created to locate missing children, but was used for people to clock into work. Buildings were created for factories, not to house poor people. You can have only the purest intentions and capitalism will always find a way to taint it to its core.

I think Dongbaeks idea that technology - creations in general - should only be pursued to further yourself and to bring joy to yourself first and foremost, is very interesting. Because in the end, she created fireworks the same way Dongrang pursued medicine. She wanted to bring a little change into peoples lives. But the fact that capitalism serves as the very foundation of our lives is going to rot everything we create. We can’t live outside of the cruelty of capitalism no matter how hard we try.

AND YET. The chapter comes to the very simple conclusion: Continue creating. Even if you can’t save everyone, even if your works are to be appropriated and torn out of its context. If we stop creating we will be empty. And nothing will change either way. Only thing that changes is that you rid yourself of all possible future joys.

[theabysss]

I love you

pairing: sagau!Zhongli x Reader

summary: Every weekend you and Zhongli have a tea party in a secluded corner of Liyue, in one of these meetings you confess your feelings to him.

content: just fluff

word count: 950

It's time for my exams, so I don't know when I'll write something else, but I'll try to find the time. And for some reason I decided to get sick, very timely yeah. In any case, enjoy reading. (≧◡≦)

Today, for tea drinking, you and Zhongli chose a gazebo on Qingyun Peak. The view from above was simply wonderful, and the cool breeze was pleasantly refreshing on this hot day. You gladly took a sip of Zhongli brewed tea and said to him quite calmly without a drop of excitement.

"I love you."

In the next second, Zhongli opens his eyes in disbelief and fixes his gaze on your face. It couldn't be true, could it? There was not a single chance for this. Surely erosion was to blame for this auditory hallucination. It simply replaced your words with those that in the depths of his heart he most wanted to hear from you.

Zhongli returns the mug of tea to the table with a slightly trembling hand, and it clinks on the saucer.

"Your Grace?" He confusedly calls you by title, trying to hide the trembling in his voice.

"What do you...?" Zhongli falls silent, not daring to speak.

You smile brightly and repeat, "I love you. I love you more than all the sunrises and sunsets that I have seen more than any of my creations."

Zhongli feels like he suddenly ran out of oxygen in his lungs. He looks at you with a helpless expression. His eyes are wide open and his lips are trembling as he tries to find at least some words to answer you.

"Even before the moment I descended into Teyvat in physical form. When I only re-learned this world through the eyes of a traveler, even then I liked you."

You don't give Zhongli time to put in even a word and just keep saying, "I've always enjoyed listening to your speeches through traveler. I liked your character, your voice, your mannerisms. Everything about you fascinated me, I always wanted to know you more, everything about your past, about the pain and joys that you experienced. A month has passed since my arrival in Teyvat and these days were wonderful. This world is beautiful and rich in a variety of treasures - people, nature, the creatures that inhabit it. But for me, the most important treasure of all Teyvat is you."

You lean across the table and gently place your hand on Zhongli's cheek.

 "Would you like to receive my love, my precious dragon?"

Cheekbones, cheeks Zhongli are covered with a gently golden hue. It seems to him that he is seeing the most magical and incredible dream of his life. But your hand on his cheek is all too real and he can smell the glaze lilies left on your hands from the flowers he brought to tea tonight. A hot scorching sun ignites inside him and heat disperses through every cell of his body.

Zhongli looks into your eyes and sees love - sweet, tender like silk flower. How could he refuse you, you were his everything and he also loved you. He loved you much more than a simple follower should have, no matter how faithful he was. Every time you looked at him, every word you said to him, made butterflies dance in his stomach.

Zhongli shows courage and puts his hand over yours on his cheek, regretting for a second that he was wearing gloves and couldn't feel the softness of your skin. He looks straight into your eyes and you see tiny golden sparks flashing in his pupils. His gaze burns with unconditional love, warmth, tenderness, hope.

"If you consider me worthy of such an honor as your love Your Grace, let me be impudent and accept this precious gift. I promise you will not regret an ounce of your feelings for me."

In response, you lean towards Zhongli and give him a gentle short kiss, just a touch of your lips. But even this short touch sends a wave of goosebumps all over his body. He wants to close his eyes and enjoy this feeling to capture this moment in his memory, the phantom feeling of your lips on his, but he does not take his eyes off you, does not want to stop watching your gentle smile and how your eyes sparkle.

Pleasure fills him and Zhongli involuntarily makes a short rumbling sound. You giggle at this and smile teasingly.

"So dragons can purr?"

Zhongli feels the heat from his face transfer to his neck and smiles embarrassedly.

"When dragons are happy, they can actually make sounds like purring cats."

"That's it, then later I'll have to definitely check how loud you can purr," You smile teasingly. "And by the way, call me by my name, please, you have every right to do so."

Zhongli hesitates, whether he was really worthy of this honor, but you said that you love him. He felt dizzy just thinking about it. Finally your name escapes his lips. It spreads sweetly over his tongue and sounds like a symphony in his ears.

"Yes, that's right, now always call me by my name. From now until the end of time, you and I are lovers." You smile happily.

"Is this a contract, Your Grace?" Noticing your judgmental look when he says your title, Zhongli quickly corrects himself and pronounces your name.

"What else would one expect from a god of contracts."

You think for a second and prop your chin like Zhongli usually does.

"Yes, this is a contract. A contract of mutual love, a promise to always support each other, share sorrows and joys. Do you agree to such conditions?"

"I accept the terms of this contract and promise to abide by every point for the rest of my life." Zhongli's voice is solemn and determined.

He gently takes your hand and kisses your knuckles, his eyes covered with long fluffy eyelashes are full of love, love so passionate that it would be enough for hundreds of thousands of mortals.

"I love you too."

Reblogs, comments, are always greatly appreciated! ヽ(o^ ^o)ﾉ

[5starl1ght]

Hello, could you please write prompt 6. **Cooking Together**: Characters A and B cook a meal together, resulting in a flour fight and a messy kitchen with Charles Leclerc, please <3

Here you go lovely! Hope you like it and thank you for asking o⁠(⁠(⁠*⁠^⁠▽⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠)⁠o

Cooking Together with Charles

Mesterlist prompt list

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon when you and Charles decided to tackle the kitchen together. The plan was simple: cook a homemade pizza from scratch. The reality, as you both would soon find out, was far more chaotic.

The kitchen was filled with the mouth-watering scent of fresh ingredients and the warm glow of late afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. Charles, ever the perfectionist, was meticulously measuring out the flour while you prepped the toppings on the counter beside him.

"Are you sure that's enough flour?" you teased, watching him with an amused smile. "I don't want our pizza to turn into a pancake."

Charles looked up, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. "Just trust me, okay? I've got this."

He carefully poured the flour into a large mixing bowl, but as he turned to reach for the water, his elbow nudged the bag of flour off the counter. In a split second, a cloud of white powder erupted into the air, covering both of you in a fine layer of flour.

You burst out laughing, trying to wipe the flour from your face, but it only made matters worse. "Charles! Look what you've done!"

He stood there, momentarily stunned, before breaking into a grin. "Oops," he said sheepishly. "Guess we'll be having a floury pizza."

Without missing a beat, you scooped up a handful of flour and flung it at him. "Oops," you mimicked, unable to contain your giggles.

Charles's eyes widened in mock horror before he retaliated with a handful of his own. Soon, the kitchen was a battleground, flour flying everywhere as you both laughed uncontrollably. The counters, floor, and even the ceiling were dusted with white, but neither of you cared. It was a rare moment of carefree fun, far removed from the pressures of Charles's racing schedule.

Eventually, you both called a truce, collapsing onto the kitchen floor amidst the mess, still giggling. Charles reached out and brushed a flour-covered strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and affectionate.

"You look beautiful," he said softly, his eyes full of warmth.

"You look ridiculous," you replied, smiling as you reached up to wipe a smudge of flour from his cheek.

He chuckled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips. "Maybe, but I'm your ridiculous."

Together, you managed to clean up the worst of the mess and finally got back to making the pizza. Despite the chaos, the end result was

delicious. The dough was a little uneven, and the toppings might not have been perfectly distributed, but the experience of making it together made it the best pizza you had ever tasted.

As you sat at the table, enjoying your homemade creation, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of contentment. Charles, still with a dusting of flour in his hair, was smiling at you with such genuine happiness that it made your heart swell.

"Do you think the kitchen will ever be the same again?" you asked playfully, taking another bite of pizza.

Charles shrugged, a carefree grin spreading across his face. "Maybe not, but I wouldn't trade today for anything. This was perfect."

You reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. "Agreed. We should do this more often—minus the flour fight."

Charles laughed, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. "Deal. But don't think I won't start another food fight if I get the chance."

You both laughed, the kind of laughter that comes from shared joy and unspoken love. The afternoon had been a wonderful reminder that sometimes, the best memories are made in the simplest moments of everyday life. Cooking together, covered in flour, laughing and teasing each other—it was these moments that made your relationship with Charles so special.

As the evening drew on and the kitchen was finally cleaned up, you found yourselves on the couch, wrapped in a cozy blanket, watching a movie. The warmth of the pizza still lingered, and the shared laughter echoed softly in your minds. Charles pulled you closer, his arm around your shoulders, and you nestled into his side, feeling completely at home.

"Today was amazing," you whispered, looking up at him.

Charles smiled down at you, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Every day with you is amazing."

In that moment, you realized that it wasn't just the grand gestures or the high-speed thrills that made your relationship with Charles special. It was the little things—the shared flour fights, the homemade meals, the quiet cuddles on the couch. It was being understood and loved for exactly who you were, in every silly, messy, wonderful moment.

And as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you knew that no matter where life took you both, you would always treasure these simple, perfect days together.

[inklore]

after a year and a handful of months of debating on if i should, or wanted to, do commissions (and with some convincing and hyping from friends) i've decided why the heck not!

so to everyone whose ever complimented me and hyped me up for my themes and graphics thank you and you're definitely another driving force in this decision.

making graphics is therapeutic to me and i take a lot of pride and joy in doing it, from seeing everyone loving the things i create. and i want to share that pride and joy even more, sooo if you've ever struggled with making a good theme, feel too lazy to make one, need a banner for a fic or masterlist, a header, or just need someone to help your graphic vision come together; i'm here to provide!

before you commission something, or just want some examples, please check out my past work and portfolio!

PORTFOLIO | PINTEREST | ART TAG | GIFS

PLEASE THOROUGHLY READ THROUGH THE RULES!!!!

✶ all payments will be made through kofi or fiverr depending on what you're commissioning. if you'd rather go through paypal that is also a valid option just message me.

when it comes to commissioning anything details matter!!! i need complete details of what you want to be created. i will not accept something like 'floral vibe' or 'something with browns'. that gives me nothing. i need a vision, i need as much information as possible, examples (but do not take them from other creators please i will decline your commission), you can take inspo or examples from my own themes, or go through my pin board. the more details the better. the greater i can make your vision come into view. this is important!!!

i will not use other peoples art. do not ask for it to be included in whatever project i am creating. everything i make is for personal use only.

you will get two redos for me to change something you don't like about the theme. a preview of the finished product will be sent your way and you can ask for something to be completely re-done, but after that no changes will be made.

please include your user or where you want me to send your graphics within your request.

there's not a time span in which you have to use the theme or graphic for, but a week would be complimentary.

you can commission as many times as you wish after i've finished the first one.

for my own personal reasons minors are not allowed to commission things.

we do not have to be mutuals, nor do you have to be following me to commission something.

you don't have to outwardly give me credit but please do not claim my creations as your own.

if you have any questions before commissioning something my messages are always open and there is never a dumb question. please feel free to ask!

✶ fandoms i will not accept commissions for: anime, supernatural, our flags mean death, good omens (because i am not in them nor have enough knowledge on how to make the vision really suit said fandoms).

a full theme includes: a navigation banner and a header.

when commissioning a theme there are a few things that need to be mentioned and answered, so please include them in your request!

what kind of navi banner do you want? (refer to my portfolio for this, or if you just want something simplistic, big, small, medium, extra, messy, chaotic, etc)

what vibe are you going for? (dark academia, greek myth, ocean, dainty, horror, etc)

colors? (a must ok i need to know, if you give me none then i'm going to do whatever and choose what i think looks best and that's also fine if you want me to have complete creative liberties)

whats your overall vision? (can be included in the vibes section but giving me more detail is better)

text. (what do you want included on it, words, titles, information, quotes, etc)

examples. (like i mentioned in the rules examples are encouraged but do not take them from other creators on here and i will not copy, or make them look like someone else's work)

what kind of header do you want? (a simple png that goes along with the navi colors and vibe, a whole other banner-esk graphic, none, etc)

✶ see the add ons section below if you want more things included in your theme.

now these add ons are only for themes. if you commission a header only, or gif, they will have their own add on options.

$1 - for dividers that match your theme in color and vibe (if you want symbol, graphic, or anything that's not color then the price goes up a dollar)

$1 - three+ icon options (want the perfect icon to fit your theme and don't want to do the searching yourself? i got you)

$2 - content warning + minor dni banners (i'll make theme specifically to match your theme, with your user, and whatever you want them to say or look like etc)

$3 - layout + navi formatting (aka i'll come up with a completely new layout format for your navigation post + your bio)

$4 - a gif header or a gif included within the navi graphic (this is the highest price because finding clips, extracting scenes into caps, making the gif, coloring it to match the theme, blending, etc, is a lot lol)

a header commission includes: only a header. it is not a theme, just a mobile header, or a header for a masterlist, or fic.

the information needed for this commission are as listed below.

what kind of header do you want? (aka what is it for. this is important because the look is dependent on this information)

colors, vibes, vision. (more detail the better)

text. (if you want text on it, what do you want it to say, so title, etc)

examples. (not needed but a plus)

gif commissions include: gifs for your fics or masterlists. not for themes or headers.

depending on how you want these little moving pictures to look you gotta give some details.

fandom, character, scenes. (don't just say 'any scene' unless you truly want me to choose whatever scene lmao)

how many? (the current cut off is six, if you want more then there's an add on)

coloring. (you can completely leave this up to me but if you want them to be a certain color then please let me know, i'll also check with you before making all of them to make sure you like the coloring)

text. (want them to say anything? a title? subtitles? dialogue from your fic? your username on them? etc)

add on: blends. (want two characters or actors from different angles, scenes, or fandoms in the same gif? i got you)

add on: textures. (if you want added details such as a texture on the gifs then this will be extra, but i need to know what kind of texture / details you want added)

fic commissions: are only done through fiverr or paypal. if you are interested in commissioning a fic or any kind of writing then please refer to my fiverr and inquire over there or message me on here. thank you!!

✶REMEMBER TO MESSAGE ME WITH ANY QUESTIONS YOU HAVE BEFORE COMMISSIONING, NO MATTER THE TIME OR SUBJECT, I ENCOURAGE IT!

contact info: on tumblr, or discord: toldbylaur.

where to commission: kofi or pm me!

[emelinstriker]

Red Son ♤ Parental Guidance

Reader’s pregananant but only present towards the end btw

Now, I know DBK isn't actually a bad father. Like, we've all seen at least the scenes of him breaking out of the demon webs to get to him, as well as for example him catching his son after extracting the Samadhi Fire. Or even them just being generally wholesome as a family. Thing is, specific moments we see of DBK on his own where he cares about his son are only being seen by us, the viewer. Not his son. Red Son tries to impress his father just BECAUSE he thinks he needs to gain his father's love and attention. Which he technically already has. But he wouldn't fully understand that with the few encounters we've seen between him and his father. Which is why I'll be going off on the encounters we've seen of both. I love their general dynamic so much though hnfgnhfg

So i was like, 'what if I take the common insecurity about questioning if you'll be a good parent and add doubt on a grandparent's part to it?' So now is not only Red Son questioning shit, but also his dad in a mentioned way. And I really should start working more on stories where you're not married to the chosen character yet. I can't help it though, established married couples are easier to write hnfhngfggd

Also, I'm fully aware that I could keep the pronouns gender neutral on this one as well and just say you're afab, but I personally prefer using she/her pronouns when it comes to specifically pregnancy one-shots, so I'll be sticking with that.

ⓘ Reader is FEMALE

♤ ~ Comfort ~ ♤

Red Son was actually quite confident about his capabilities in your relationship. Ever since you both agreed on having a child, and after hearing that you were finally pregnant, this man was over the moon. He was already coming up with an idea for a nursery made up out of his mechanical creations.

However, you suggested a nursery with less mechanical components and more wood, like a regular nursery. You two ended up with the compromise of a regular nursery, but with an advanced safety and security system because your husband didn't trust those pathetic mortal safety measurements. And also to ensure that the nursery wouldn't catch on fire since it's located in a castle surrounded by basically anything that can easily burn wood.

The first months of your pregnancy went by pretty smoothly, actually. Despite feeling like shit more often and your husband gaining a bit more respect for female hormones(, mainly due to you scaring him with your mood swings), Red Son was taking great care of you.

Your parents were filled with joy, but only to an extent. They were still a bit concerned about you being married to, and having a child with, the son of the Demon Bull King. That didn't hinder them from showing up at your wedding and meeting your husband's family though.

Red Son wasn't as anxious about their presence as you were, but he was still a little concerned about their safety. He really didn't like the potential outcome of your parents getting killed off in front of you during their visit. So he made sure to tell his parents beforehand not to try anything on any of the human guests. They both seemed chill about it and a bit amused.

And once the news of a potential half-demon spawn spread around the family, Princess Iron Fan was extremely happy about finally having a grandchild. The Demon Bull King however...

Well, it wasn't the idea of a grandchild that was making him show a bit of disapproval. Rather it was his son's relationship with a mortal human that was rubbing him the wrong way. Not only did it feel wrong to him that a puny human with barely any strengths would join his family tree, but you would also die so much sooner than any of the demons.

An immortal being in love with a mortal one was a recipe for a tale ending in heartbreak and despair, after all.

At least Princess Iron Fan was already immortal when he met her. You on the other hand were a simple human craving for noodles...

Actually, that's what you were craving the most in recent times due to your hormones. And so, Red Son would be seen at Pigsy's Noodles a lot more, which was surprising to MK and the gang.

They didn't question it much at first because he said that he's just bringing the order to someone close to him and didn't want to have MK deliver it. However, as he came in more and more, the others started to notice that he would always say the same thing. And it started to feel like he was getting those noodles for someone a lot more closer to him than he claimed.

So naturally, the others got curious.

MK told Monkey King about the red demon's strange behavior and the simian decided to chill with the gang for a day and see for himself. Red Son came in at roughly the same time every other day and would order online. So it wouldn't be hard to catch him picking up the order.

And as suspected, his order came in around the same time as usual. While Pigsy was preparing the demon's order, the others were thinking of who the guy was delivering all that food to. It couldn't be his parents as they had their own food in the kitchen. They probably didn't even know about the noodle shop. It was actually quite weird in general that he would specifically get noodles from Pigsy's instead of just letting one of his Bull Clones cook noodles for free. There had to be a reason.

A little over half an hour later, the bull demon arrived at the shop to pick up his wife's usual order, when he noticed another familiar face's presence sitting by the counter today.

The simian in a rather poor disguise, at least in the red demon's opinion, gave him a lazy wave at his entrance. "Sup, Bull Son." The other demon rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms, approaching the counter.

"It's Red Son, you imbecile", he retorted with a scowl.

"Yeah yeah," Monkey King started as he used the same hand to wave dismissively. "Anyway, my buddies told me you come pick up noodles a lot recently. And I'd like to ask, why don't you just cook them up yourself in your kitchen?" Now it was the simian's turn to cross his arms as he turned towards his old friend's son.

Red Son huffed as he leaned across the counter to reach his order. "My wife asked for specifically noodles from this place. She said something about the quality here being incredible compared to what my family's kitchen offers." While talking, he opened the bag to check on the order as usual before nodding in approval.

The room went quiet and Red Son, confused, looked back up at everyone's surprised expressions.

"YOU'RE MARRIED??"

The group's shocked, and some excited, yells startled the fire user so much he almost dropped the bag that held your food. Once he recovered from their outbursts, he awkwardly coughed into his fist, a faint pink tint visible on his cheeks. "Uh, yeah, obviously. Did you guys not notice the ring I wear during any of the times I came here?!" He then put the bag he was holding back onto the counter before showing them the ring around his finger.

"Yer orderin' quite a lot of noodles for her, kid", Pigsy noted with a smirk. "Heh, I get that my cookin's great, but the amount yer usually orderin' for one person is... odd."

Red Son turned to face the pig with a prideful smirk of his own. "That's because she's eating for two and craves your noodles specifically. So you better feel honored that Red Son's wife even bothers asking for your cooking."

Silence.

...

" W H A T ? ? ?"

Red Son covered his ears this time before the group could potentially damage his hearing. Mei ran up to him and pulled him into a firm hug. "Why didn't you tell us?? THAT WOULD MAKE ME LIKE A FUTURE AUNT!" She then squealed in excitement. "RED BOY IS BECOMING A RED DAD!"

"Oh great, why not scream it louder and let the entire world hear about the news", he said sarcastically, trying to get out of her hold. But apparently Mei ignored the heavy sarcasm in his voice as she let go of him before proudly putting one arm around his shoulders.

She pulled out her phone from her pockets with a bright smile, "Great idea! I'll let my people know right away!"

But before she could turn on her livestream, Monkey King grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. He shook his head with a chuckle. "I don't think Bull Son over here would be comfortable with you showing off this moment to the whole world just yet. Besides," he started before turning to the other demon with a grin, "he hasn't even told us who his lucky lover is."

Mei's mouth shaped into an 'o' before slowly turning her head to face the now ticked off 'Red Boy'. She gave him an excited look he could easily read as 'Please tell us about her'. And so, rolling his eyes, he gave in because he knew the gang would keep pestering him about it if he just left.

He gave a brief description of you, how you two met, how you fell in love, as well as how you were faring these past months.

But there was one topic he seemed to be avoiding. And Sun Wukong knew.

"Quick question," he started as he crossed his arms again, "how did your parents react to your relationship?"

Red Son froze, his eyes widening just slightly, yet it was enough for the simian to take notice of. The Monkey King sighed as he shook his head. "Not all that positive, I guess."

The bull demon suddenly felt like avoiding eye contact while putting his hands in his pockets, leaning further back into the counter. "Tch, naturally."

MK's head perked up from the table at the chosen wording. "What do you mean 'naturally'? Is it normal in the Demon Bull Family to not be supportive of another's relationship?"

"It's not that", he responded as he took out one hand from his pockets to scratch his head a bit. "As I've already told you, my wife is a human. A mortal one at that. My mother was actually fine with the relationship, including the marriage. She was also extremely happy about getting a grandchild. My father on the other hand..."

He angrily looked down before sighing to avoid having another raging outburst over a simple memory. "Let's just say I'm having a hard time convincing him that this is my life and I chose to live with my lover's consequences of mortality myself. But, he did genuinely seem happy when I told him I'll be having my own child to raise soon. I guess his own fatherly senses decided to show up for once in a long while."

Tang hummed in thought. "To be honest, I'm quite surprised myself that you found a human lover, let alone one you wish to have a child with."

Red Son raised an annoyed eyebrow at the other man sitting on a stool. "What are you getting at?"

"It's just... surprising is all. After all, DBK himself wasn't the best role model as a father. Even in a lot of the stories of the past. Not only because he's been sealed away for so long, but also because we know what he's like with you in the current days", Tang pointed out, upsetting the already semi-heated demon.

"Are you implying that I'll be a bad father? Just because of my own father's past doings and constant absence in my past?" He stood strong for the first part, his ponytail turning halfway into flames for just a second. However, his walls started to slowly crack as the rest of his words left his mouth.

"Uh... I don't think Mr. Tang meant it like that exactly", Sandy's quiet yet rough voice commented from across the room as he raised one index finger. Tang nodded swiftly as he somewhat attempted to anxiously try gain distance between him and the demon... Which was very much difficult to achieve, considering he was on a stool without wheels. And aggressively jumping away from him would be too obvious. As such, all he could do was to lean back.

"There is a chance you might end up treating your child the same way your dad treats you", Monkey King added from his own seat. "After all, the saying 'like father, like son' can happen in certain scenarios."

They all noticed Red Son's hair starting to flare up in anger again, so MK decided to speak up before things could get out of hand. "W-Well, that doesn't necessarily mean it will happen! Right?" He then turned to his mentor, who simply shrugged in return, mumbling a small 'Dunno'.

"Why you little... HE WASN'T A BAD FATHER, OKAY?! Just because you can't comprehend how my family operates does not automatically mean-" He paused as something seemed to flash within his memory. "UGH!" His fist made contact the counter. It wasn't strong enough to leave any damage, which relieved Pigsy, but it still startled everyone except for the Monkey King. "I REFUSE TO DEAL WITH YOU PEASANTS RIGHT NOW!" Suddenly, his hair turned into a rather wild flame for a few seconds. The demon in red then forcefully took the bag of noodles and stormed off in a rage, slamming the shop's doors in the process.

The gang turned to the Monkey King with mixed expressions that ranged from 'Why did you have to say it like that?' to 'Could he actually become bad to his kid?' The retired hero just held his arms up in surrender, unsure of how to react. "What? I was just being honest", he said casually.

The shop owner rolled his eyes at the monkey. "Well, the noodles for sure are cold by now. But I guess the anger this guy produces at the moment might just be enough to heat 'em right back up."

What the gang wasn't aware of however was that Red Son's walls crumbled more and more the further he got away from the noodle shop. The doubt of being good enough as a father creeping in on his conscience. The demon grunted to try ignore the painful frustration building up within his chest, using his flames to transport himself back home.

Upon arrival, he decided to consult his mother about this matter. Just to... get advice.

Luckily, Princess Iron Fan was sitting by the dining table and was reading a book, until she noticed his entry. She placed a piece of paper as a bookmark between the pages she was reading before closing the book. "You seem troubled, son."

"...I'm actually just seeking insight, mother. A bit of guidance, if you will", he responded as he took a seat at the table, placing the bag of noodles in front of the seat next to him. At least his father wasn't here right now, so he wouldn't have to fear bringing up the topic as much. The black-haired woman hummed to signal him to continue.

He awkwardly coughed into his fist once again before finally popping the question. "Do you... Do you think I'd be a bad father to my unborn child?"

And just like the gang, his mother became quiet.

"...Okay, tell me who fed you this bullshit of a mindset."

That... was not the reaction he was expecting. Let alone hearing his mother curse, which she very rarely does. His eyes were wide open as his mouth was slightly agape. His mother wasn't joking either, he could tell by the raging fire in her eyes.

He shook his head quickly, flailing his arms around a little in panic. While he was upset with a certain monkey's phrasing, he did have a point on a fundamental level. "N-No, no, mother! Heh- It was just a civil conversation with some... friends about my marriage. At one point the topic came up of, uh, if I'll become more absent and negligent in raising my child like father-"

Princess Iron Fan slammed the book she was still holding onto the dining table, startling the young demon.

"Your father may have not been actively present your whole childhood, that is true. But, that did not stop him from loving you and caring about you." She sighed, crossing her arms and closing her eyes.

"If he didn't care about you, he would've just helped extract the Samadhi Fire from you without taking you back home. He would've disposed of you to make sure you would never become such a threat ever again."

"But he didn't", Red Son added, starting to connect the dots.

"Yes," she gave her son a worried glance, "so don't ever think he doesn't  care. He cares in his own way. And about being absent... Well, what could he even do when he was sealed away by that damned monkey." Her son scratched his head in thought.

She then gave him a warm smile. "You know, on the other hand... If you do need more parenting advice for when the child has already been born, you know where to find me. Because let's face it," she let out a small laugh at certain memories, "despite caring about you, your father truly sucked at actually taking care of you."

"What do you mean-"

She cut him off, giggling. "He set the kitchen on fire while heating up milk. He also somehow managed to lose one of your used diapers. I'm not joking when I say the smell came from practically everywhere." Red Son couldn't help but hold his face in his hands in embarrassment. Yet his mouth held a smile as he tried holding back his own laughter at the amusing story.

"Haha! Anyway, you know just as well as I do not to take your father's big bad bull façade to heart. If anything, you should take this as a lesson." She trailed the outline of her book with her finger, seemingly lost in thought. "Simply appearing as a bad parent to others should not be of your concern. What matters is that you are there for your child when they need you the most, to help them grow up healthy. But It's also important to give them free range to roam and choose how they wish to spend their own time."

Princess Iron Fan clenched her fists. "Those friends you spoke to simply do not seem to understand that we're more than bull demons. We're a family. Your friends are not the ones responsible for raising your child, after all. Others may give you advice and suggestions, but the way they handle things does not necessarily mean it's the way for you to handle things."

Red Son glanced down at the book in front of his mother as he spoke. "I see..." He then slowly stood up from his seat before bowing just slightly in respect. "Thank you for your time, mother. I'm... glad to have you here to help me", he said softly, giving her an embarrassed smile. She gave an amused one in return.

He grabbed ahold of the bag once more, but was stopped before he could leave the table. "One more thing, son." He glanced over at his mother, confused. "You better heat up those noodles properly before you deliver them to your wife. I'm speaking from experience when I say you will be dealing with a different kind of demon if you serve those cold to her." She gave him a knowing wink.

Red Son grumbled a little to himself, also fully aware of what you were like when he didn't meet your craving's standards. After all, that was the side of you he was actually scared of. He picked up the bag, but then put his hands underneath it before using his abilities to heat it up slowly. The bull demon then made his way down the hall to your shared quarters with a sigh.

His mother's words echoed in his mind as his body moved on autopilot. To be honest, he was still somewhat doubting himself. But the knowledge of his own father being flawed in taking care of him, yet still helping with whatever he could was kind of inspiring. The demon was so deep in thought that he almost walked past your bedroom door. But your faint voice from the other side of the door caught his attention. Apparently you were on the phone, talking to someone.

Your husband entered the room and you looked over to him from where you lay on the bed, noticing him with your noodles in his hands. The smile you gave him made it all seem worth it. You told your mother that you would talk to her later before hanging up and putting your phone on your nightstand.

"Welcome back, honey! Took you a while to return", you greeted him as he walked over to the bed.

He sat down before pulling you a little closer so he could kiss your temple. "Sorry for keeping you waiting. I was being verbally held hostage by the people at the shop." Your husband then used the same hand that pulled you closer and placed it on your round belly. "...Do you want to eat on the bed or use the desk?"

You tapped your chin in thought, but he knew you were faking it. He already knew your answer. "Hm, the baby and I feel like staying in bed right now. But..." You put your own hand on top his, staring at him lovingly. "We also want you to stay here with us."

Red Son blushed with a little smirk before his doubts came back to haunt him once more, turning his smirk into a frown as he avoided eye contact. Of course, you took quick notice of his sudden change in behavior. "What's bothering you, honey?" He sighed, circling his thumb over your skin.

"...Do you think I would make a good enough father?"

You were dumbfounded. "What kind of question is that? Of course you would be!" Your free hand found its way to his cheek, forcing him to turn back to face you. "Listen, I wouldn't have agreed to have a child with you if you wouldn't be. I know you're gonna be incredible with the baby. So don't doubt yourself." You gave him a quick peck on the lips since he was already turned to you.

"And by the way," you started with a smile, "even if you end up struggling with taking care of the baby, I'm here with you. Taking care of a child takes team effort, be it from two parents, friends or family. It's also my child too, therefore it's part of my responsibility as well. As long as you keep trying, and want to try support the child, that automatically makes you a great dad by default."

"For what it's worth," you leaned in and kissed his cheek, "I know for a fact that you'll be an amazing dad."

Your comforting words weren't exactly surprising, but the words coming from you was what he really needed the most right now. He huffed with a smile as he gently pulled you in for a hug, making sure you weren't uncomfortable with the position. "I love you so, so much you don't even know."

Your own smile only became brighter. "I actually believe I do... 'Cause I love you just as much. But, now that this topic's over, the baby and I would like to eat-" Suddenly, you felt a slight bit of movement coming from your belly. You gasped in delight before grabbing one of your husband's hands and placing it back on top of your belly, confusing him.

"Wait, what's happening?" Red Son didn't know why you placed his hand there until he felt it. It was a tiny kick.

"I'd like to believe the baby heard your woes and is trying to tell you how awesome of a dad you are... Either that, or that it wants to beat you up until you no longer have any doubts that you can raise it well", you commented. Your husband couldn't help but let out a laugh as a few tears started to gather in his eyes from the joy and relief he felt. He gave your belly a quick kiss.

"Thanks, little flame... I promise to give parenthood my all", he said before he looked back at you, now filled with confidence.

You grinned at his sudden change in mood before leaning over to grab the bag of noodles. You took one good look inside the box before determining with a frown, "...It's cold."

"...Fucking shit, not again..."

> Link to Masterlist <

♡ Part 2

[harringrove-flip-reverse-it]

Welcome to Harringrove Flip Reverse It 2024!

Are you the sort of person who likes to be nifty with your fan creations? Do you enjoy subverting prompts? Does the thought of a challenge fill you with glee?

This is the event for you!

Harringrove Flip Reverse It is an event taking place the first week of July (Monday 1st - Sunday 7th). It’s very easy (and fun) to play!

Every day during that week, you’ll be given five prompts: fluff, angst, nsfw, sfw and trope subversion. Sounds simple? Well, it is… but there’s a catch!

For each prompt you decide to fill, you’ll be expected to Flip Reverse It! In other words, you must make your fluff prompts angsty, and your angst prompts fluffy. Your nsfw prompts should be safe for work, and as for your sfw prompts… enough said ;)

The trope subversion prompts will give you a very common, possibly even overused prompt… and it’s your job to subvert it, in any way you want. Interpret the prompt any way you like, except the traditional one.

You can do as many or as few prompts as you like, no sign-up required! Make sure you tag @harringrove-flip-reverse-it in your prompt fill so we can reblog it here too.

Want to find some cool people to talk about your ideas? Come and join us in the Heebie Jeebies discord server to find a ready-made community of likeminded lovely people, now featuring a dedicated channel just for discussion of Harringrove Flip Reverse It!

For more details on the prompt categories, read on…

Fluff:  Take the traditional tooth-rotting fluff… and make it angsty! We’re talking days at the beach that end in disaster, hot chocolate with marshmallows that turn out to be poisoned, sweet little moments that break our goddamn hearts.

Angst:  It looks like it should hurt, but it doesn’t! These prompts may seem dark and whumpy, but they should fill the heart with joy and delight, no angst allowed!

NSFW: These prompts may look filthy, but in fact they could be read by the most innocent of angels with nary a blush!

SFW:  By contrast… somehow these gentle ideas have become sullied by porn, and there’s no turning back!

Trope Subversion:  These tropes may be overused, but it’s your job to interpret them in a non-traditional way. Maybe they share a bed, but not with each other! Maybe their first kiss was with someone else! It can be anything EXCEPT the usual way of interpreting the prompt.

Interested in taking part? Reblog this post, check out all the nitty gritty details and then get working on some prompts!

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

☠️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Twenty-Five

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: Violence, Injury, Blood, *Shark Music*.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~2.3k

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You step into the small classroom, a canvas tarp crumpled under your arm and a basket of paints in your hand. The children's laughter and shouts echo from the playground outside, a chaotic symphony of joy that makes you smile despite the task at hand. You set the basket down on one of the low tables, pushing aside tiny chairs to make space.

Unrolling the tarp across the floor, you can’t help but glance out the window. The children are darting about like fireflies, their bright clothes and lively movements a stark contrast to the rigid world you left behind. You’ve grown fond of this place and its simple, unrestrained happiness.

You shake your head slightly, bringing your focus back to the task. A large cardboard cutout leans against the wall—a dragon’s head for the school play. It’s a blank canvas now, but you can already envision it brought to life with vibrant scales and fierce eyes.

Pulling out brushes of varying sizes, you arrange them neatly beside the paints. Your fingers work methodically, opening jars and mixing colors on a palette until they’re just right. The smell of acrylics fills the room, a scent that has become oddly comforting. As you dip a brush into deep green paint, you hear footsteps approaching. The door creaks open slightly, and Hana peeks her head in.

"Need any help?" she asks, her eyes twinkling with warmth.

You smile at her offer but shake your head. "I've got it under control. The kids should enjoy their recess."

She nods approvingly before disappearing back into the corridor, leaving you alone with your project. You turn back to the dragon’s head and take a deep breath. The first stroke is always the hardest—transforming an empty surface into something alive.

With steady hands, you begin painting broad strokes of green across the cardboard, each swipe adding texture and depth. The rhythm is soothing, almost meditative, as you lose yourself in the creation. Time slips away unnoticed; all that matters is bringing this mythical creature to life.

The door bangs open, and you nearly drop your brush. Yumi stumbles in, tears streaming down her cheeks, clutching her arm. Behind her, Taro hovers like a worried shadow, his face a mask of panic.

"Miss Aria! Yumi fell!" Taro's voice wavers as he rushes in, trying to help but unsure how.

You set your brush down and cross the room quickly, concern etched onto your face. "Yumi, let me see," you say softly, kneeling in front of her.

She sniffles and holds out her arm. You wince on the inside, knowing how painful it had to be for such a little girl, and force yourself to stay calm.

You take Yumi’s wrist gently, your fingers brushing against her skin. Her tear-filled eyes meet yours, a silent plea for reassurance.

“What happened, Yumi?” you ask, your voice calm and soothing despite the worry gnawing at your insides.

Taro shifts nervously beside you. “She fell from the playground. She was climbing the ladder and lost her grip. She tried to catch herself, but she cut her arm on the way down.” And that was why Shanks and the others were in the process of replacing all the old and rusted equipment.

You glance back down at Yumi’s arm, examining the jagged scrape running along her forearm. Blood seeps from the wound, mixing with dirt and tears. But what really catches your attention is the way she has been cradling her arm close to her chest, avoiding any movement.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stay composed. “Yumi, can you try to move your fingers for me?”

She bites her lip and hesitates before attempting to wiggle them. The motion is minimal, and she winces in pain.

Your heart sinks. The thought of her arm being broken crosses your mind. You’ve seen similar injuries before—bruised and swollen, movement restricted by pain. But those had been grown men, not a little girl.

“Alright,” you say softly, giving her a reassuring smile despite the concern in your eyes. “We need to get you some help. I think your arm might be broken.”

Taro’s face pales at your words, his eyes wide and frantic. “Is she going to be okay?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod firmly. “Yes, but we need to get her to a doctor right away. I'm going to take Yumi into town to the doctor. I need you to go fetch Miss Hana and tell her what happened, Taro.”

You carefully lift Yumi into your arms, cradling her gently to avoid jostling her injured arm. Her small frame feels so fragile, a stark reminder of why you need to be careful. She buries her face into your shoulder, muffling her sniffles. You can feel her tears dampening your blouse.

“Hang on, Yumi,” you whisper softly, more to reassure yourself than her. "You'll be all fixed up in no time."

You stride out of the classroom, Taro trailing behind you with wide eyes. The schoolyard seems impossibly large now, the path to town stretching endlessly before you. You set a brisk pace, knowing every second counts.

“Miss Hana will know what to do,” you say to Taro over your shoulder. “Run quickly.”

Taro nods and takes off, his little legs pumping as he races back toward the school building. You focus on the path ahead, each step taking you closer to the town and the doctor who can help Yumi. The village is not far, but the journey feels like an eternity. Each step echoes with the weight of responsibility on your shoulders. You whisper comforting words to Yumi, hoping they soothe her as much as they calm your racing heart.

As you approach the edge of town, familiar faces blur past—villagers going about their daily lives. They pause, concern etching their features as they see you rushing with a crying child in your arms.

Mrs. Hoshino from the bakery steps forward, worry in her eyes. “What happened?”

“Yumi fell,” you explain hurriedly. “I think her arm might be broken.”

Mrs. Hoshino gasps but nods quickly, pointing toward the small clinic at the end of the street. “Dr. Tanaka is in today. He’ll know what to do.”

You thank her and hurry on, relief flooding through you as you spot the clinic’s sign swinging gently in the breeze. The door creaks open as you push through it, the smell of antiseptic greeting you. To your surprise, it’s empty. The small reception area is silent, the usual bustle of patients and nurses absent. Dr. Tanaka must be out on one of his house calls.

You shrug off the unease and focus on Yumi, whose tears have subsided to soft whimpers. “It’s going to be alright,” you murmur, carrying her gently to one of the examination tables.

Setting her down carefully, you look around for supplies. Your hands move swiftly, guided by instinct and necessity. You find antiseptic wipes, bandages, a needle and thread for stitching wounds, and an anesthetic. Your fingers tremble slightly as you gather what you need, but you force yourself to stay calm.

“Yumi,” you say softly, “I need to clean your arm now. It might sting a little.”

She nods bravely, her big eyes filled with trust. You take a deep breath and begin cleaning the gash on her arm. The antiseptic wipes away the dirt and blood, revealing the full extent of the wound. It’s deep but not too long—a cut that will heal with stitches and proper care. You don't, however, know the state of her bones. You would do what you could for the time being.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. The clinic is quiet, the only sound the faint rustle of leaves outside. You glance at Yumi, her tear-streaked face watching you with wide, trusting eyes.

"Alright, Yumi," you say gently, reaching for the bottle of hand sanitizer on the counter. You pump a generous amount into your palm and rub your hands together until they’re dry and sanitized. “I am going to give you something that will numb the skin around your wound so you don’t feel the stitches, okay?”

She nods, sniffling slightly but staying brave. You grab the anesthetic and a syringe from the tray, carefully filling it. "This might pinch a little," you warn her softly as you approach.

Yumi winces as the needle pricks her skin, but she doesn't cry out. Brave little girl. You administer the numbing agent around the laceration with steady hands, watching as her arm begins to relax under its influence.

"There we go," you murmur, more to yourself than to Yumi. "Now we wait just a minute for it to take effect."

You dispose of the syringe in the small bin nearby and pick up the needle and thread. The antiseptic smell mingles with the scent of clean linen and faint floral notes from outside.

"Yumi," you say, looking into her eyes, "I'm going to stitch your wound closed so it stops bleeding. It shouldn't hurt because of the numbing medicine I gave you. If it does, tell me immediately. We’ll still need Dr. Tanaka to check your bones when he gets back."

She nods again, her little face set in determined lines. You feel a surge of pride at her courage and return your focus to the task at hand.

You thread the needle with precision, pulling it taut before leaning closer to Yumi’s arm. Your fingers move deftly, weaving in and out of her skin with practiced ease. Each stitch brings the edges of the wound closer together, forming a neat line that will soon begin to heal.

"You're doing great," you tell her softly, keeping your voice calm and soothing. "Almost done."

Yumi watches intently, her curiosity momentarily overshadowing her fear. You tie off the final stitch and snip the thread with a small pair of scissors. Then for extra precaution, you grabbed the materials to splint her arm, and did so as carefully as you could.

"There," you say with a smile, straightening up. "All done."

Yumi looks at her splinted arm in awe, then back at you with gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispers.

You give her a gentle pat on the head and reassuring smile. "You're welcome, but you have to give yourself credit for being so brave. I bet Miss Hana will let you finish painting all the trees green when we get back."

Yumi's face brightens up at the mention of the trees and you feel a flood of relief throughout your body. As long as you keep her calm, everything will go smoothly.

You sit beside Yumi, your fingers lightly brushing her hair as she rests her head against your shoulder. The minutes stretch, each one feeling like an eternity as you wait for Dr. Tanaka. The clinic remains eerily silent, the only sound the occasional rustle of leaves outside and Yumi's soft breathing.

A sudden commotion at the door jolts you from your thoughts. You spring to your feet, heart pounding with hope. "That must be Dr. Tanaka," you say, half to yourself, half to Yumi.

You rush toward the door, ready to greet the doctor and bring relief to Yumi’s pain. But as you pull it open, your breath catches in your throat. It’s not Dr. Tanaka.

Marines stand before you, their uniforms crisp and intimidating. Recognition instantly flashes in their eyes as they spot you, and a malicious grin spreads across the leader’s face.

"Lady Linaria Bonn," he sneers, stepping forward. "We've been searching for you everywhere. Your fiancé has been beside himself since you were kidnapped."

Panic surges through you, but you force yourself to stay calm. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," you say evenly, blocking the doorway with your body. "I left on my own volition."

The Marine leader chuckles darkly. “That’s not what the reports say and we’ve been looking for you for a long time. We’ll be taking you in. He lunges forward, grabbing your arm with a grip like iron and dragging you outside the clinic.

Instinct takes over as Shanks' teachings flash in your mind. You twist sharply, yanking free from his grasp and swinging your fist toward his face. Your knuckles connect with a satisfying crunch, and he staggers back with a grunt of pain.

But there are more of them. Another Marine grabs you from behind, locking your arms in a vice-like hold. You struggle fiercely, kicking and thrashing, but his grip is unyielding.

"Let go of me!" you shout, fury and fear mingling in your voice.

Yumi’s cries cut through the chaos. "Leave her alone!" she screams, tears streaming down her face as she watches helplessly.

The Marine leader wipes blood from his nose and glares at Yumi. "Take the brat too," he orders coldly. "We can’t have any witnesses."

"No!" Your heart sinks as another Marine moves toward Yumi, lifting her roughly into his arms despite her struggles.

"Stop! She’s just a child!" Your voice breaks with desperation as you fight against your captor’s hold.

The Marines ignore your pleas, dragging both you and Yumi out of the small courtyard. Your mind races frantically for a way out, but all paths seem blocked by their relentless strength.

As you're forced outside the sheltered courtyard and into the harsh sunlight, the village feels miles away from the sanctuary it once was. Rather than give up, you start shrieking and trying to make as much noise as possible. Someone was surely to come.

You thrash wildly in the Marine's grip, every muscle in your body straining against the iron hold. Panic surges through you as Yumi's cries echo in your ears. The Marine leader's smirk is the last thing you see before a sharp blow lands on the back of your head.

The world tilts, spinning out of control. Pain explodes behind your eyes, radiating through your skull. You try to scream once more, but your voice dies in your throat as darkness creeps in from the edges of your vision.

Your knees buckle, and you collapse into the Marine’s arms, the fight draining from your limbs. The last thing you hear is Yumi’s terrified screams mingling with the mocking laughter of the Marines before everything goes black.

Date Published: 7/8/24

Last Edit: 7/29/24

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[sonni-the-silly]

People Play God

A ball of clay,

Unshaped and untouched,

Awaiting its moment,

Its time to be a masterpiece,

Yet when it was finally taken,

Spun and carved,

It was moulded by hands so forsaken.

A delicate vase,

Made with skill, made with care,

An absolute beauty beyond compare,

Was made with hands,

With the intent of crafting,

Formed with the joy of creation,

Surrounded by those who marvel at it,

Loved and cherished,

Like all should be.

Both creations were alike,

Both creations had the same start,

Yet one failed and shattered,

The other perfect, 

Someone’s prized possession,

Oh, where did the first go wrong?

When did the first choose its fate?

When did the world decide,

It was meant to be discarded,

And left to rot?

Neither chose their creator,

But one is seen as lower,

Both forever changed by the people of the past,

In ways so different,

Nobody notices the start,

The reason why they’re different,

The bit out of their control,

They leave the first shattered,

And blindly praise the second.

It’s simple,

We all want one thing,

Power and control over all that roams,

People play God,

Change the courses of lives,

Yet refuse to acknowledge the suffering,

The pain caused by their lies.

[revenantlore]

. WIP Introduction .

In the crumbling heart of the metropolis known as Nocturna City, a sinister drug known as Noxiglow has taken root. Those who dare to indulge in its seductive embrace are transformed into a new breed of vampires—neon-bleeding creatures with supernatural powers.

This results in unspeakable carnage and alarm erupts throughout the city, leading to an immediate lockdown that few abide by despite the costs.

Detective Vektor “Vex” Graves, a jaded and relentless investigator, is thrust into the neon-lit abyss of Nocturna's underworld. With his AURAndroid partner, Detroit, they embark on a perilous journey to uncover the dark origins of Noxiglow and put an end to the escalating chaos and death it leaves in its wake.

As Vex delves deeper into the investigation, he infiltrates the illicit world of Nocturna's vampire nightclubs, where neon-blooded addicts revel in their newfound powers. Undercover as a hopeful vampire fledgling, Vex encounters Nokia, a captivating and mysterious vampire, and the lines between duty and desire blur.

Vex's attraction to Nokia grows, casting him into an emotional whirlwind as he grapples with the complexities of his feelings for a man he should view as an enemy and not a lover, on top of the confusion he endures over his “relationship” with Detroit.

The neon world is fraught with danger and temptation, and Vex must navigate a treacherous path to maintain his cover while unraveling the secrets behind Noxiglow's creation.

In a city where neon-lit darkness conceals deadly truths, Vex and Detroit must race against time to expose the malevolent forces behind Noxiglow and confront their own inner demons.

Characters :

Vektor “Vex” Graves

Vex's day doesn't truly begin until he's had his fifth cup of coffee, though his job seldom allows him time for more than two. Coffee is a constant warm companion, helping him stay alert during long nights on the job and tiresome investigations, and some days it's the only warm companion he allows himself.

Other days, he finds himself warm under the sheets beside his work partner, Detroit.

Despite his sharp mind, Vex struggles with impatience and indecision. He can be quick to jump into action but often finds himself overthinking choices, caught between a desire for immediate results and a nagging need to weigh every option. Having Detroit as a partner ready and willing to knock some sense into him is a blessing he sometimes takes for granted.

In and outside of work, Vex is drawn to the hidden corners of Nocturna. Urban exploration comes as both a passion and an escape, allowing him to immerse himself into the quiet mysteries of decaying buildings and forgotten spaces-occasionally stumbling upon an equally decaying body along the way. And despite his advanced mechanical eye, Vex prefers to capture the essence of this dilapidated world through the lens of an old, beat-up Polaroid he found at a junk-lot.

D3TRO-17 “Detroit”

D3TRO-17 is a top-of-the-line AURAndroid [Artificial Unification & Reconnaissance Android] hired on to work alongside Detective Vex Graves. Meticulous and prone to getting caught up in the small details, having a human for a partner makes work a lot easier.

Underneath the occasional biting sarcasm and unwavering honesty, Detroit harbors a soft side that manifests in his appreciation for life's smallest joys. He finds wonder in the most simple and mundane aspects of human life, the intricacies of insects, and possesses an endearing quirk for collecting seemingly trivial objects.

If asked, he would say dandelion wishes and pinky promises are his favorite aspects of life.

Though much of his knowledge is crammed into his internal database, Detroit favors tangible objects.

Much like a teenager from a time long past who might pin media posters to his walls, Detroit's walls are adorned with scraps of paper torn from history books, loose cards from old trivia games, and dried flowers he finds between the cracks of old buildings.

Detroit longs for a sense of belonging and humanity he fears he may never achieve.

Mattix Nysoth

Mattix Nysoth is an enigmatic hermit who exists on the fringes of society. They lead a transient life, wandering wherever the night guides them, finding shelter in abandoned buildings once full of life that Mattix tries to emulate through imagined scenarios brought to life with paint and calloused fingers.

Mattix's existence is an intricate dance with danger and survival, marked by a series of illegal and improperly installed implants that are both a lifeline and a curse.

Their body bears a patchwork of these hazardous implants, each representing a desperate attempt to gain an edge in a world that often leaves them behind.

While these enhancements provide occasional advantages, they come at a steep cost, in both health and legality.

Though Mattix's demeanor is often abrasive, it is more a defensive mechanism forged from years of solitude and abandonment than a representation of their true self. Trust is a rare commodity and they've learned to keep others at arm's length unless it serves them in some form or another. However, beneath this tough exterior lies a deep desire for connection.

nokia grimoire info to come eventually