#i am Unaware of my habits and ways of doing things

[pikachu-deluxe]

literally no idea how i am even supposed to know where i land on the neurodivergent or neurotypical thing when i don't even know myself all that well. like, how am i supposed to answer when people ask me things about how i think. idk it just happens lol is probably not the response people are looking for

[bucca2]

Shrike pt. 1 - words hung above but never would form

definition. male shrikes are known for their habit of catching insects and small vertebrates and impaling them on thorns

König x high school sweetheart reader

2nd person, gender neutral reader for now but reader is afab and referred to as a girl, reader is Austrian/has lived in Austria and speaks German for most of the story, romance, pining, friends to lovers, reader's nickname is Thorn, König's first name is Alexander

4.8k words

tw: bullying, brief mention of cheating and domestic abuse (not explicit, mentions of violence, and not done by König), mention of terrorism, suicidal thoughts

[NEXT]

based on this post by @ceilidho, who gave me permission to write this! many thanks <3

this post is dedicated to @papaver-decervicatus, who I am so proud of for finishing chapter 4 of her fic cat/mouse/den (which I highly recommend) and eating NO glass in the process. her headcanons for König have had a huge influence on me, and while there are some differences between julius and alexander, I absolutely must thank Caedis for her wonderful portrayal of König.

and of course, to @danibee33, for fueling my König brainrot. without you, I probably would not have returned to writing <33

disclaimer, I am not Austrian, I do not speak German, so if there's anything that needs correcting, please do reach out!

You admit, you’ve always had an affinity for protecting the weak.

When you were twelve, a bird slammed headlong into your bedroom window. The poor thing had avoided snapping its own neck but was certainly in no condition to fly. You’d bolted out of your childhood home to check on it, but by the time you arrived, a huge grey tomcat was prowling, sitting back on his haunches and ready to pounce. You generally liked cats, but this one was a mean old stray, and you’d always been frightened to go near him.

Without hesitation, you had shoved the cat aside, spitting and yowling, and taken the little bird into your hands.

It took a few days to nurse back to health, and you still remember the day you released it back into nature. It was worth the long scratch down your arm, pride swelling in your heart as it spread its wings and flew into a vivid blue sky. You remember it even now: a charming little gray bird, a streak of black coloring over its eyes. A shrike, your mother had identified it as.

People are no different than animals, sometimes. People can be cornered, battered, and bruised as well. You recognize the broken hunch of the bird you rescued in the boy sitting by himself at lunch time. His shoulders curl inwards with a desperate need to go unnoticed. You’ve seen him around: he’s not in any of your classes, but your classes always seem to end up in the same hallways, so you pass each other all the time.

He jumps a little as you slide into the seat next to him, shrinking away from you in a way that breaks your heart. “Hey.”

No response. You offer your name, but he seems reluctant to divulge his own.

“Is it okay if I sit here?”

He shrugs.

“Thanks. I don’t know anybody at this school, so it’s nice to have a friend.”

“…friend?” He has a nice voice, you think. Timid, but almost sweet.

“Well, if you’ll let me call you one.”

“…”

And so begins your friendship with König.

I was housed by your warmth Thus transformed By your grounded and giving And darkening scorn

You didn’t call him that in high school, of course. You wouldn’t know that name until much, much later. It takes a while to coax him out of his shell, cajoling him that you can’t call him “green-eyed boy” forever, to get his name.

“Alexander is a very good name,” you assure him, and he seems pleased. He’s still hesitant to speak to you at all, but that’s just fine by you. You’ve got plenty to talk about, anyway.

“You know, I read this book about Alexander the Great. There’s this crazy story about one of his battles at a city called Tyre. He was laying siege to it after a misunderstanding with their king…” you chatter on, unaware of the intense stare from the boy sitting next to you.

“…ordinarily, sieging an island is pretty difficult, but you won’t believe what he did,” you rattle on. “He—”

“He built his own bridge,” Alexander says, so quietly you almost don’t hear him at first. You look at him in surprise.

“Yes! You know this story already?”

“I read a lot about him.”

“Then why did you let me ramble on about it if you knew about it already?” You’re a little embarrassed, having felt proud of yourself for knowing niche facts about historical figures.

“I like listening to you talk.”

That shuts you up for a moment. Only for a moment though, before you start to laugh.

“What?” he asks, an edge creeping into his voice.

“Nothing! It’s just—usually people tell me the opposite,” you say. “People say I talk too much.”

“I don’t mind.” His eyes dart to your face before looking away again.

“That’s good to hear. But I hope you know this means you’re never getting rid of me now,” you tease, nudging him gently.

He doesn’t respond, but for a second, you could have sworn that a corner of his mouth had turned up into a smile.

Learning more about him is like trying to draw blood from a stone, but you do your best. He mentions sharing a room with a cousin. His oma makes the best comfort food. Sometimes his mother takes him into town to buy candy, but he has to hide it or his cousin will steal it. Not that he cares that much—he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but his family doesn’t come from means, so it means a lot to him whenever his mother spares a few pennies to buy him a frivolity.

It's what he doesn’t say that tells you the most about him. The way he fidgets with his clothes when he’s nervous. The brief panic that shoots through him whenever you call his name before he relaxes when he realizes it’s just you. The way he shies away from people in the hallways, just to avoid any contact whatsoever.

The fact that he never talks about his father.

The way he curls into himself when he’s being bullied.

“You should be apologizing to me for being in my way right about now, freak,” Andreas taunts him. He’s knocked Alexander’s books to the ground, like some sort of cartoon caricature of a bully, and you’re fed up.

“Hey!” Without missing a beat, you slide yourself between Alexander and Andreas. You’ve recently hit a bit of a growth spurt, so you note with a bit of smugness that you’re at least an inch or two taller than Andreas. You’re also quite a bit taller than Alexander, you realize. The two of you are usually sitting when you talk, so you’ve never really noticed.

“Leave him alone!” You stand your ground even as Andreas fixes you with a withering glare.

“Ah, so you’re gonna let your big strong girlfriend fight your fights now, is that it?” Andreas sneers. Alexander stiffens behind you, and you decide right then and there that you’ve had enough of this nonsense.

“You’re the last person who should be bringing up girlfriends, Andreas,” you say, staring him down with a look that you hope is sufficiently intimidating. “Everybody knows Yulia broke up with you because you can’t get it up.” You don’t know Yulia. You don’t give enough of a shit about Andreas to follow the gossip about him. But by the way his cheeks get ruddy, you know you’ve struck a nerve. The handful of spectators your little confrontation has attracted snicker.

“You little bitch,” he snarls. You hear the gasp of the students surrounding you before you feel it. You put a hand to your rapidly reddening cheek.

The little twerp had slapped you.

“That’s what you get for getting in my way,” he says, with a smug little look that you want to wipe off his face.

You’re not a violent person. And honestly, you could have been expelled for what happens next. But you cast a quick glimpse behind you at Alexander on the ground, and something about the look in his eyes reminds you of that bird you rescued, and a quick and hot anger rises in you.

You punch Andreas.

With no wind-up, no warning, you break his nose, and he drops like a rock, howling and clutching at the blood pouring from his nostrils. A sick little giggle comes out of you as you watch, drowned out by the uproar of your little audience.

“What on earth is going on here?!” You hear a teacher roar, and the crowd quickly begins to scatter. Without hesitation, you pull Alexander up and escape before you can be subjected to the consequences of your actions.

“Boy, am I glad he didn’t put up more of a fight,” you say gleefully, high on adrenaline. “That could have gotten quite ugly.”

“I didn’t know you had that in you,” Alexander says when the two of you have gotten far away enough. The way he looks at you now is a little different—almost reverent.

“I didn’t know either!” you say. “I’ve never done that before!”

“Who knew such a pretty rose had such sharp thorns?” he mumbles to himself. Your eyes zip to him, and even he looks surprised at the words coming out of his mouth.

“A pretty rose?” you tease, nudging him on the arm. He flushes pink and turns away, but there’s a bit of a lopsided half-smile on his lips.

You’re not sure why, but the sight of it makes your skin tingle.

The first few years of high school are relatively uneventful outside of skirmishes with Alexander’s various tormentors. Your biggest regret is that you can’t always be there for him—sometimes you have to spend your free periods catching up on readings or speaking with teachers. But you’re always there for him afterwards, poison in your voice as you hatch plans to make his bullies’ lives miserable. The plans never go anywhere, but thinking about retribution always seems to make him perk up a little. And really, that’s all that matters to you.

It's silly, how long it took you to realize how much of a fixture he was in your life. There’s a street corner a few blocks from the school you always meet him at so the two of you can walk the rest of the way together. The few times you share classes, you’re always sitting together, exchanging notes and quietly judging your classmates together. And you always, always sit with him during lunch. Even when you start making other friends who surely would welcome you at their tables, you always return to the quiet green-eyed boy in the corner.

You tell yourself it’s because he’s lonely, and he needs the company. You tell yourself the rumors about the two of you are silly, the result of bored hormonal teenagers who can’t fathom being a genuine friend to someone of the opposite sex. You tell yourself it means nothing that your face feels warm whenever he smiles at you.

You never get the chance to figure out if it does mean anything. He gives you the bad news on the last day of classes before summer break.

“I…I see,” you say, trying to swallow past the lump in your throat. For once, you’re at a loss of what to say. His fingers twist around each other in his lap, the way they only do when he’s really anxious.

“Well, a fresh start is good, right?” You offer him a smile, but your heart’s not in it. Maybe you haven’t spent as much time with him as you used to back in first year—you’ve started to take more advanced classes, and you’ve been so swamped with homework and projects that sometimes hanging out with Alexander is put on the back burner. But you’d always taken comfort in knowing that he would always be there at mealtime. A steady presence in your life, as everything around you seems to be speeding towards a future you’re not quite ready for yet.

Now he’s leaving. You’d like to think your concern is for him—what’s to say his new school won’t also be rife with harassment? Will he be able to make new friends? Or will he be all alone at the lunch table again? But really, who are you trying to fool? The sudden heaviness in your chest is selfish. What are you going to do without him?

The roaring in your head stills as you feel his hand cover yours. You stare at it dumbly, unable to lift your head and look him in the eyes. Your gut feels like it’s flipping and twisting all over itself.

You lift your eyes to his. For one breathless, indescribable moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. You’re sure he’s going to kiss you. You lean closer to him, and you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your eyes slide shut.

A shout startles your eyes back open, and he jolts away from you. It’s your mother, calling that she’s here to pick you up. You let out a frustrated noise as you call back to her that you’re coming before turning back to him.

The moment is long gone, and your heart twinges with regret as he avoids meeting your gaze. “You’ll write to me, won’t you?” you say softly. “And we can still see each other?”

“Of course I will, rosethorn,” he says, with that shy little smile you love so much.

You don’t see him for another ten years.

I couldn't utter my love when it counted I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now

It’s ironic, really. Saving birds. Saving boys. But the one person you can’t save is yourself.

Your life post-König is like the drop on a roller coaster, but with none of the thrill. High school flies by in a flurry of deadlines and mental breakdowns. It’s worth it when you get into a good university—at least, you thought so. In reality, there’s no work in Austria for someone with your degree. Your parents are older, well on their way towards retirement, so you find yourself unwilling to burden them. You’re lost, stuck, and so very alone.

And then you meet him.

Tall, handsome, a little older, with a blossoming career. In hindsight, how much of a perfect package he presented himself as was the earliest red flag. But when you’re young and behind on rent, anything better than that feels like a miracle.

You know better, really. You knew it the whole time. Getting married after knowing each other for 2 months isn’t as bad as it could be, but it’s still too quick for your comfort. But the eviction notice was on your door, and he was a perfect gentleman. What could go wrong, right?

Everything. He at least has the decency to keep up the façade for another month, but that’s the only credit you’ll ever give the man you’ve shackled yourself to. It becomes increasingly obvious that he only married you to have a live-in maid while he philanders around as he pleases. You try, oh god do you try, for five long, fruitless years. God, it’s so silly when you think about it. You liked him so much, it took you so long to realize he had never liked you in the first place. He’d scooped up the first desperate college grad he’d found, and thinking about it makes you want to hide from everyone you know.

Which you do: hiding from what few friends you do have, hiding from your parents, hiding from the part of your brain that screams that you’re wasting the best years of your life cleaning up after a grown man who won’t even touch you, much less fuck you. Your 20s are for drinking, one-night stands, and figuring out what the fuck the rest of your life is going to look like. There is plenty of drinking, but the rest of it, not so much.

You’re going to divorce him, you tell yourself in year six. Once you get a job, you’re out. But you’re no fresh grad anymore, and the 6-year gap in your resume isn’t helping matters. You spot a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel when he tells you you’re moving: his company is offering him a higher paid position, and it’s in a bustling downtown area. Plenty of opportunity for you, right?

That’s when he starts hitting you.

You’re away from your parents, your friends, your home. You took English classes, but that won’t exactly help you in this equally European foreign country whose language you don’t speak. Now that you’re approaching your 30s, your husband seems to be rapidly realizing that his youth is also disappearing. His new job is more stressful, and most days he has no outlet for it other than taking it out on you.

Now you long for the days when he didn’t come home until you’d already fallen asleep.

And then the terror attacks begin, and your once-bustling city shuts down. More isolation. Even less hope. You stay at home all day, torn between hoping someone will get rid of your husband for you and the abject terror of being left all alone in a foreign country torn apart by violent partisans.

That’s when the despair really sets in: you’ve wasted over a decade in this awful, dead-end relationship. Sure, you’ve got a roof over your head and food in your stomach: you should feel grateful. But you don’t.

You start hoping the attacks will take you out instead.

I fled to the city with so much discounted Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted

“There are mercenaries in town.”

You look up from your breakfast, lost in thought thinking about all the errands you have to run today. “Yeah?”

“About time we stopped relying on our corrupt fucking military,” he grumbles. “Maybe they’ll end this goddamn conflict once and for all.”

You don’t have much to say about that. What does it matter to you, anyway? The only conflict that matters to you lives at home, and you stopped trying to fight it a long time ago.

“The curfew’s a pain in the ass, though. You behave yourself, you hear me?” His sharp glare reminds you that he’s not saying this out of a concern for your safety: if you make trouble for him, you’ll pay for it later. You nod mutely.

Your morning goes by relatively uneventfully. You do the dishes, stare at the wall, sigh, stare at the wall some more. As much of a prison as this apartment is, you like it decently well when he’s not in it. Going outside and seeing the ravages of war all around you is anxiety-inducing. But you can’t put off buying groceries anymore.

The arrival of the mercenaries makes itself immediately apparent. The streets are somehow even emptier, and what people there are on the streets move quickly and cast suspicious glances at everyone else.

You were hoping not to interact with anybody, but your hopes are dashed when you see a checkpoint ahead, manned by soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms. Although most of them are wearing different gear, they still look more orderly and well-kept than the country’s own military. Murder must pay well.

You look around nervously, but there’s no alternate route here, and nobody local going through with you. You strongly consider going home, but you’d just have to do this all over again tomorrow.

You steel yourself with a deep breath.

“Identification?”

You show the mercenary your ID with trembling fingers, gripping your bag tightly and praying he doesn’t find your nervousness suspicious.

“Where are you headed?”

“Just—just down the street,” you say, wincing at your heavy German accent. Years upon years of living here and you still sound like a foreigner. “Getting food.” You’re so anxious you forget the word for “groceries” for a moment. You only know enough of the local language to get by, and you’re sure you must sound like a kindergartener.

The soldier raises an eyebrow at you. “You are German?”

“I…Austrian,” you answer hesitantly. Oh God, you hope there’s no issue with that. You’re not so much afraid of being detained as you are of getting home too late to make dinner.

“Interesting.” The soldier hands back your ID. “Our commander is Austrian, as well.”

You perk up a little bit at that. You’ve met a handful of German-speakers here, but not a single one of your countrymen.

Well. Aside from the one who came here with you.

“He should actually be arriving here any moment now. Big guy in a hood. You can’t miss him. They call him König.” As if on cue, a military grade vehicle pulls up to the checkpoint, military personnel stepping out. And then…

Your blood runs cold.

Nothing, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of the beast that steps out of the car. Even from a short distance, you can tell he’s a colossal size. Two metres tall, easily, wearing a dark hood that reminds you of a medieval executioner. And as if that weren’t intimidating enough, two red trails, like bloody tears, are bleached under his eyes. His eyes, which must have some sort of black paint around them, giving him the impression of being two eyes staring out at you from the pitch blackness of the hood.

Two piercing green eyes.

Trained directly on your face.

Staring in disbelief.

“I…need to return home. I’ve forgotten something.” All worries about appearing suspicious fly out the window as the enormous man in the hood hesitates for a moment before making his way towards you with alarming speed.

You all but fly back down the street, making a beeline for your building. Just a few moments ago, you were excited to meet the man. Now, the image of his eyes staring into yours fills you with a fear you can’t describe.

The next day you take a long detour to avoid the checkpoint. It’ll take you twice as long to get home this time, but it’s worth it. You can’t put the shopping off another day: the brand-new bruise on your arm throbs as a reminder. And you certainly don’t want to run into the hooded soldier again.

You get your shopping done without much fanfare. The old lady cashier, who usually looks at you from over her glasses with the stern look you’ve seen a lot of people around here level at foreigners, even pressed a piece of candy from behind the register into your hand. You’re pretty sure it’s just because she wanted to get rid of it, but it does wonders for your mood.

You’re busy plotting when to enjoy your little treat when you turn a corner and freeze.

He’s here. He’s there, standing in an alleyway near your building. Somehow even larger than you remember him yesterday, still wearing that awful hood.

Does he know where you live? You curse yourself for running straight home yesterday. He must have seen the direction you went in—or did he follow you? You attempt to quietly retreat and take another route home, but your shoe scuffs a paving stone. And like a hawk spotting its prey, his head darts towards you.

You book it.

“Wait!” calls a deep voice. Tears spring to your eyes as you hear heavy footsteps pursuing you. What have you done to deserve this? You’re no criminal. Your only crime is being a naïve dumbass in your twenties.

Your arm burns as you turn corner after corner, not bothering to take note of where you’re going. It’s no use, though: you can hear him gaining on you. Fuck, is this it? You can’t even fathom what he wants you for, and you don’t want to think about it either—

“Rosethorn!” You come to a screeching halt.

There’s only one person who has ever called you that.

You turn around, chest heaving with exertion, as the hooded soldier—König, the soldier said his name was—comes into view, approaching you slowly.

“It’s me,” he says, holding his hands out like he’s approaching a wounded animal. You’re not really sure what the point is, considering the gigantic knife he’s got strapped to his thigh is intimidating all on its own, but somehow it still puts you at ease.

“Alex...?” you whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

“Yes,” he says. His posture has changed from when you saw him at the checkpoint. He’s hunching over, trying to make himself smaller. It reminds you of that first day when you sat next to him at lunch.

It’s him.

You instantly drop all your bags and cling to him in a hug, tears spilling from your eyes. He’s so different: most obviously, he's so tall. He must have hit some growth spurt after he moved away, because he towers over you now. You can feel under all the gear that he’s put on serious muscle—not surprising for a soldier, of course. And when his arms fold themselves over you, you’re filled with a sense of safety you haven’t felt in a long time.

“What are you doing here?” you both ask at the same time. A giggle bubbles out of you as you watch his eyes crinkle in an obvious smile. God, his eyes are so green.

“I’m stationed here because of the conflict,” he says. “But what are you doing here? I contacted your parents, and they said you had moved here, but they didn’t say why.”

You’re not surprised. You’re still in contact with your parents, but you don’t talk about the elephant in your home. You know they would have helped you, if only you had asked for it, but you never have.

“I…it’s complicated,” you say, withdrawing from the hug. You stare at the ground, brushing away the wetness in your eyes.

“I have nothing urgent right now,” he says, staring at you intently.

You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I…got married,” you whisper.

Instantly, his body language changes, stiffening in shock. He takes a half-step away from you, which makes you want to cry all over again. This is awful. This is humiliating. You wish you could go back in time and shake some sense into yourself.

“I see,” he says in a strangled voice. “Congratulations.”

Despite your best efforts, the tears spill over again. “No, not congratulations,” you say. “It—”

It was the worst mistake of your life, you want to say, but you just can’t get the words out. He must notice you beginning to quake with fear, because he raises a hand to touch you gently on the arm—right on the bruise.

His stare hardens as he watches you flinch. “Rosethorn, what’s the matter?”

Everything, you want to say. I’m standing in an alleyway with my childhood crush, shaking like a leaf because a monster lives in my house, and I can’t get away from him.

With a feather-like touch surprising for a man with such large hands—he grew so much— he goes to push up your sleeve. You catch a glimpse of the bruise before you have to turn away again, shuddering. It’s ugly: black and green, and very clearly shaped like a human grip.

“I…bumped into a shelf,” you say lamely. You can’t bring yourself to rope him into your troubles. He’s a soldier now, for Pete’s sake. He has bigger problems.

You can’t read his expression due to the hood—but there’s a blazing anger in his eyes you remember all too well. The quiet fury you often saw in him so many years ago.

He must see in your expression that you don’t want to be questioned about it right now, and thankfully, he relents. With an ease in his movement that must stem from some newfound confidence, he reaches over and picks up your bags for you. “Let me carry these for you.”

It’s nice, to be taken care of for once.

Your mad dash took both of you quite far away from your building, so you have enough time for quite a nice little chat. You tell him about your time in university, he tells you what happened to him after he moved away. He’d jumped at the chance to enlist as soon as he turned 17, on the recommendation of an uncle who had spent time in the military. You laugh when he tells you that they wouldn’t let him be a sniper, a pout in his tone. You could have imagined him as a sniper back in high school, but he’s so large now it’s impossible not to notice him.

“The discipline was good for me,” he recounts. “I needed to grow a spine.”

“Don’t say that. You were just trying to get by in school, like everybody else.”

He shrugs. “I wanted to be like you.”

“Like me?” You ask incredulously.

“My rose with thorns,” he says, with a fondness that makes you blush. “Do you remember that day you punched that punk Andreas?”

“How could I forget? My fist hurt for days,” you say with a grin. “But I didn’t regret it for a second.”

He looks down at you—that’s new—with pride in his eyes. “I thought about you that day all throughout training,” he says. “You were my guardian angel.”

Your cheeks grow even warmer, and you feel like a teenager again. How can he still make you feel this way so easily after all this time? “He had a punchable face,” you say dismissively. “If not me, then it would have been someone else.”

You’re almost disappointed to arrive home. Only yesterday, home was your sanctuary. Now, it means being separated from the one person you trust fully in this country. You turn to him, almost bashful. “This is where I live."

He sets the bags down like they’re made of fine china, and he’s standing so close you almost stop breathing. The air is charged, the same way it felt that night when you almost kissed. You watch him as he watches you.

“Can I see you again?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” you say, and the sparkle in his eye dazzles you.

You watch him leave until you can’t see him anymore. And for once, you enter your home with a light heart.

Remember me, love When I'm reborn As the shrike to your sharp And glorious thorn

if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just drop a reply! feedback is always appreciated, and my inbox is open, so please feel free to drop me an ask! I will 100% write little scenarios/headcanons about this couple because I have so many thoughts and ideas for them lol

I anticipate about 2-3 parts for this, maybe with König pov in the next part? he doesn't come across this way in this part, because it's from Thorn's perspective, but he is a very nasty boy indeed. also, I know putting lyrics in the middle of a fic is so passé, but I can't help myself. it's hozier! indulge me. also this isn't beta read so I really hope it doesn't suck

[666writingcafe]

A Lesson in Demon Anatomy (NSFW)

Asmo has made a huge mistake.

Okay, maybe "huge mistake" is a bit dramatic, but there's no doubt that he messed up in his calculations. He thought that everyone was out of the house and wouldn't be returning for quite a while, so he felt okay walking around in his birthday suit.

It's something that he used to do nearly every day, but when the exchange program was in the works, he agreed to put a stop to it in order to create a good impression on whomever was going to stay with him and his brothers. However, when he got the opportunity to be alone, he couldn't help but resort back to old habits.

So, one could imagine his surprise when he strolls into the sitting room to find MC stretched out on the couch. They were reading a book, but of course they looked up when they heard footsteps heading their direction, and now...

"I'm so sorry, MC!" Asmo exclaims. "I had no idea that you were even in here! I thought you were studying at the library, but if I'd had known you were coming home, I would have put something on so that I would be presentable and---"

"It's pretty," MC murmurs, interrupting Asmo's train of thought. In that moment, he realizes that his beloved human has their eyes directly trained on his nether regions.

That's odd, he thinks. I didn't think I had that effect on MC.

"Oh, this ol' thing?" Asmo asks, gesturing downwards. MC nods their head, failing to look up at his face.

"Would you like a closer look?"

Why am I so nervous? Millions of individuals have seen me naked before. I should be used to people's reactions.

"If you're okay with it," MC responds. Gingerly, Asmo walks over to them. MC sits up as he approaches, and when he's standing in front of them, they finally look into Asmo's eyes.

Asmo nearly falls backwards from the sheer amount of lust that suddenly surges through his body. Avatars of Sin are like lightning rods in that way; they are attracted to the energy of their sin, and the energy is attracted to them.

Usually, Asmo is able to mitigate the effects of someone's lust with his own, but he hasn't felt this much of it from another individual in a long time. And the fact that it's coming from MC of all people, one of the only beings he's ever known that has been able to resist his demonic charm...

"Can I touch it?" MC asks, forcing Asmo to focus on the present moment.

"Of course you can!" he answers, trying to hide the fact that he's starting to hear the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. MC gently wraps their hand around the underside and runs their thumb over the skin.

"Is there a reason why it's bumpy?" A part of Asmo is relieved by the question, because it means that he can put aside his feelings for a bit and focus on the answer.

"It's part of a defense mechanism. As you might have learned, a demon has different levels to their form. You've seen the first and second, but I'm not sure if you've witnessed anyone shift above that. Anyway, our appearance significantly changes in the third level, and things begin sprouting in all sorts of places."

"Including dicks?"

"Especially dicks. Mine sprouts stringers. They become poisonous in the fourth level."

"Like a scorpion."

"Exactly."

"Have you killed anyone with it?"

"There was a period of time where that was my weapon of choice, yes."

Why is MC staring at me like that?

"Is it safe in this state?"

"It better be, or a whole lot of people would be coming for my ass." MC's hand moves to the small of Asmo's back, and the Avatar of Lust allows them to guide him closer to them.

"May I?" they ask. Asmo can only manage a nod. He shouldn't be this nervous; he's received plenty of blow jobs before. Why is this one any different?

Perhaps it's because it's been a while since someone's been this...enthusiastic.

What Asmo is unaware of in the moment---and what he doesn't learn until after the fact---is that MC's discovered that they derive intense pleasure from sucking dick. However, once he knows that this side of MC exists...

Let's just say that he sits back and watches as his brothers fall prey to MC's wild side.

[puranami]

✿ Omelette - The Morning After ✿

A/N: I did leave the original with a point to start a follow up if the mood struck, and people have been showing interest, so here we are... doing our best __φ(．．✿)

Summary: The morning after Sanji found you cooking an omelette in your underwear at an ungodly hour, you are no longer overtired and must deal with the fallout.

Content: Despite the scenario - it's all SFW and fluffy like dem eggs were. Even more pining with a nice side dish of denial, G/N reader ✿

(Part 1) - (Part 3)

"Oh my god..."

You cringe into your pillow, unsure of how you are supposed to face the day, and especially Sanji, after last night's omelette fuelled shenanigans. The entire thing had felt like a dream, and you would have gone on with the rest of your life believing that's what it was were it not for one glaring issue.

Sanji's nightshirt.

It was still comfortably wrapped around you, still with that sweet and musky scent that had enveloped you as you finally managed to sleep, and you couldn't help nuzzling into the sleeves with a contented sigh.

"No! Stop that!" you shouted internally, forcing yourself up in your hammock. "You do not have feelings for him, he does not have feelings for you; he was just being a good friend lending you his shirt because you were a dumbass who forgot to put on pants!"

You felt your chest tighten somewhat at your inner monologue. Maybe you did have a tiny bit of a crush, truly miniscule really, nothing to get yourself worked up about. You let out another small sigh, starting to fiddle with the top button, knowing you had to take it off and return it.

But you just couldn't bring yourself to.

Surely it'd be okay to hang onto it a little longer, right? It would be bad manners to hand back a dirty shirt, so you should definitely wash it first at the very least. And since you aren't due to do your laundry for a couple more days; maybe you can wear it at night in the meantime?

You let out an audible groan, flopping back down onto your pillow face first, hardly able to believe your own thoughts.

"Why am I being so weird about this?" The cycle of cringing into your pillow begins again.

A sudden knock at your door surprises you, and you nearly fall out of your hammock. The door opens a crack, not enough to see in or out of, and a familiar voice greets you.

"Just wanted to check in, darling, you're missing breakfast, and if you don't get there soon," Sanji trails off, not needing to elaborate on the eating habits of your captain. He gives you a moment to respond, but you can't find any of your words; you needed more time to overthink about how you were going to talk to him! You pull your blanket up over your head in a poor attempt to hide from the situation.

Thinking you were still asleep, and knowing that you were properly covered thanks to his actions during the night, he opens the door further and peeks his head in.

"Darling?"

He lets out a little laugh seeing your blanket covered form still in your hammock. Letting himself into the room fully he makes his way over to your little sanctuary, unaware of the utter panic contained within, before crouching down beside you. A gentle hand rocks you ever so slightly in an attempt to rouse you from your assumed slumber.

"It's time to wake up, love," he almost whispers.

You instinctively groan at the pet name, mentally cursing yourself for it immediately after - you can't pretend to be asleep anymore now. Resigning yourself to your fate, you slowly pull the blanket down a little, at least enough to look at him.

"Good morning, sunshine!" He beams, always happy for any time in your presence. "You're going to miss breakfast."

God damn this radiance in human form. You take a stabilising breath before reluctantly sitting up, allowing your blanket to fall down to your waist. Sanji couldn't help the cheeky little smirk that graced his face upon seeing his nightshirt; you could have easily taken it off once you got back to your quarters, but here it still was.

"What's the face for?" You grumble, poking his forehead and lightly pushing him back. Sanji giggled as he lost his balance, deciding it best to sit beside you instead of crouching. He leaned his arms on the side of the hammock and looked up at your pouting face, smiling at how cute you were.

"Comfy, sweet?" The amusement in his voice was painfully apparent as he gave the collar of the shirt a playful tug.

Burying your face into sleeve covered hands to hide the blush you felt forming, you let out an exasperated sigh, falling onto your back while muttering various curses, causing Sanji to let out a hearty laugh. As much as he was enjoying how flustered you were, he was cautious about pushing things too far; he wanted to win your affections, and too much teasing may undermine that for him. He gently pats the top of your head, making you jump slightly from the unexpected touch.

"You know, if you want to keep a hold of it, I wouldn't mind." You pull your hands down to look at him, eyes wide while still covering the lower half of your face. It was like he could see right through you, like he had heard your earlier thoughts about keeping it, at least for a couple more nights. What witchcraft was this!

"W-what? No! I..." you finally manage to blurt out, sitting up once more. Time to attempt some damage control and deny everything! "I appreciate that you were just helping me out, a-and I was gonna wash it before giving it back!" Sanji had taken to leaning on one of his hands, a lazy smile on his face, endlessly amused by this whole thing. He's never actually seen you in this state before - you're usually so composed.

"It's alright, love, I have other shirts," he shrugs. Throughout this entire exchange, you hadn't reacted to any of his terms of endearment like you usually do.

Maybe it was time to try his luck.

"You wear it much better than I do, anyway." Sanji flashes you a flirty wink, and you feel your resolve starting to crumble. In a last ditch attempt to salvage your carefully crafted aloof image you throw your blanket over him.

"Stop looking at me with your dumb face!"

The man is unfazed.

Giggling like an idiot he flips the blanket back over the hammock, keeping his hands up afterwards in surrender.

"Alright, alright, I yield." He lifts himself off of the floor, patting down the back of his suit trousers. "Breakfast has probably been demolished by now, so when you're ready, come to the kitchen, and I'll make something special for you." He graces you with one last signature golden smile, before heading out, pausing at your door momentarily.

"How does an omelette sound, love?" He can't help snickering, and your face flushes deep red.

"Out!!" You yell as you throw your pillow at him, which he easily bats away while laughing. Once he was gone and the door was shut you cursed; it felt like your heart was trying to escape the confines of your body, and the intensity was overwhelming.

You refused to admit it, but you were down bad for this beautiful menace.

To be continued? Oh no! Welp, looks like the oneshot I initially started with has turned into a little series :3c I really enjoy writing Sanji, can you tell?

[carcarcraziiv2]

I LOVE YOUR JEALOUS APHELIOS AHH. I keep re-reading it!! Can I request a jealous kayn? NSFW or SFW is fine :3

THAT IS SO SWEET, ILYSM FOR TELLING ME THIS <3 <3 <3. Truly, it makes me happy to know people actually ENJOY what I am writing! Gives me a real boost to keep goin', ya know?!

And you literally bet your ass I will, Kayn is my ngjfhdsgjkh just my dirty lil' guy and I love him so gd much.

THIS is going to be NSFW. There will be warnings. I can't NOT do NSFW when I'm doing a jealousy trope. On god though? I had a random urge to make it soft Kayn so.... enjoy :3

P.S. SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG BUT I HOPE YOU LOVE IT <3

18+ MDNI~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~18+ MDNI

TW: Jealousy, violence (literally just a punch), kind of mental illness? (Idk how I honestly classify Rhaast in this AU, but just in case), sex, masked man doing to do (ooo c;).

AS ALWAYS! Enter at your own risk. ILYSM <3

18+ MDNI~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~18+ MDNI

Jealous Kayn

The concert was a success, as per usual. The crowd was dispersing, however a few guys stuck around in the V.I.P area you chose to sit in to support your boyfriend, Kayn.

You chose to help the venue workers begin cleanup duty as you waited for Kayn to come retrieve you. There were round tables scattered about, people having left their empty cups and trash all over the place.

"You don't have to help clean up you know," a friendly young man came over to where you had a trash bag held open, scooping litter into it. "Patrons don't generally stick around for this part. I'm Jack, what's your name?"

"Oh, I don't really mind at all. I travel with the band, so I try to make a habit of helping out," you smile. "I'm y/n, nice to meet you."

"Travel with the band, huh? So do you like help w- whoa! You okay?," Jack starts, before you trip over the bag you're holding in front of you and nearly fall.

Luckily, he was there to catch you so you didn't make any more of a fool of yourself.

Unbeknownst to you though, Kayn had just walked in to fetch you. His eyes widened in shock before his brow furrowed, his features turning to a scowl as he witnessed you in another man's arms.

You hadn't even noticed his presence yet, not until you felt a force lift you up by one of your arms so that you were standing tall again.

"Oh, Kayn! The show was gre-," you don't get to finish your sentence before Kayn is throwing a punch at Jacks face. The only thing you can do in response is drop your mouth open in shock.

"Whoa what the fuck man!," the friendly venue worker shouts, his hand coming up to cup his face. You rush over to him, noticing Kayn about to throw another in his direction. You step in front of Jack just in time for the blow not to hit him, Kayn barely stopping before accidentally hitting you.

"Knock it off, you idiot!" You holler, pushing your boyfriend in his chest. He stumbles back slightly, taken aback by your defense of this man who clearly just had his hands all over you.

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest as you watched his face turn from shocked to a scowl. He was clearly upset at you, but you were too upset with him to give a shit.

"Just go back to the hotel, Kayn. I'll find my own way back." Kayn stood there for a moment, his hands balled into fists as he seemed to study you for a reaction.

When you didn't falter your gaze, he conceded.

"Fine. Have fun with him," he snarled, whipping around and stomping away.

As you rushed back over to Jack to apologize and offer him assistance, you were unaware that Kayn still watched from the shadows of the small hallway in which he came from.

You idiot, Rhaast scolded him. "Shut up," he responded aloud. You let your emotions control the situation, you fool. Now our love is embarrassed and mad at us. Kayn hit himself on the head, then smoothed down his hair. "Fuck, you're right," he sighed. Although he knew he should go apologize to both of you, he felt defeated- disappointed in himself. He was so scared of losing you he made a minor situation worse. Not to mention, Yone was certainly going to hear about the incident from the venue management.

At that point, the only thing he could think to do was follow your order and return to the hotel.

To your surprise, Kayn made sure one of the guys stuck around to bring you back, too.

~~~~~

Yone was the one to take you to the hotel, silent for the entire drive until you arrived at your desitination.

"Go make up," he said, unlocking the door. "Kayn's mood will surely get worse after our conversation tomorrow."

"Ugh, thanks for the ride Yone," you sighed, thanking him as you left the vehicle. You entered the hotel, taking the elevator up to the room the two of you were sharing.

Steeling your nerves, you sifted through your pockets for the key card, taking it out and unlocking the door.

You weren't sure what you were expecting upon entry, but it was definitely not what greeted you.

Kayn sat shirtless on the patio, a lit cigarette smoldering in the ash tray, his body glimmering slightly from the moonlight caressing his skin.

And when you looked at his face... you saw it adorning his Rhaast mask.

Whatever edgy pity party shit that he is pulling, I don't care. I am staying in here. You dropped your phone and belongings onto the counter, silently scowling at him until his head slowly turned your direction.

You always liked his Rhaast side. So protective and levelheaded. Although very dominant sometimes, he always made your comfort a priority.

He stood, opened the sliding glass door, entered, then shut it behind him without turning around.

"Y/N," he said plainly, putting his hands in his pockets as he awaited your response.

"Yes?" You said, carelessly sassy with your tone as you looked anywhere other than the sculpted man prowling towards you. "What do you want?"

"You know I'm on your side, little one," Rhaast says as he approaches. You took a step back in unison with each of his until you were undoubtedly trapped between him and the white hotel wall. His body radiated heat that seeped into your skin, and you breathed deep to calm yourself.

"Ka- Rhaast. I don't know what to say. What happened earlier was really fucked up."

"I know, I know. Don't worry- I gave him a piece of my mind. That idiot never treats you right," his hand reaches up, gently caressing your face before lifting your chin to look at him.

You can't help your brow furrowing, lip pouting.

"Kayn doesn't treat me badly... he just read the situation wrong."

Checkmate, asshole. Kayn hisses to Rhaast. In return, he takes off his mask, revealing his wild but soft eyes. The contradiction between the obvious curiosity in his gaze and the demanding flicker of arousal made the muscles in your stomach tighten.

"He almost hit you, do you understand? Know's better than to endanger our love like that," his expression was so pained you could only imagine the war that was waging in his head right now.

"It's okay, love... really," you sighed. "I just didn't want any more violence to happen, and it seemed inevitable unless I intervened the way that I did. I know you- or Kayn- would never hit me. And I always know you treat me right."

Rhaast pouts his lower lip, and you have sudden overwhelming urge to kiss him. It wasn't your intention; you really did want to talk about everything... but you just couldn't stop yourself.

The kiss was tender, soft. He let out a sigh when you did it, almost a whimper- so out of character for him. It was almost as if he was relieved. He knew that you had forgiven him. You didn't feel so trapped between him and the wall anymore when Rhaast's hands gently pulled you closer to him to deepen the kiss.

"Thank you for always protecting me, Rhaast. Kayn, I love you," you smile against his lips, your hands touching his face. He pulls away only for a moment to look you in the eyes before grabbing you around your ass and lifting you up. Instinctively you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you towards the bed.

Holding onto the back of his neck, you squirmed in his arms as the he lowered you onto the soft cotton bedding. The bed was cool under the fabric of your clothes, a delicious contradiction to the heat radiating between you and Kayn.

The two of you bite and suck and play amongst each other's lips, your body gradually becoming more and more aroused. When you look back into his eyes, you can tell Kayn has returned.

"I'm sorry, my love, but I can't control myself when it comes to you," he says, a shy but sly smile taking over the canvas of his face. He looks so cheeky, trying to get you to forgive him still even when you're sure he knows your hardly angry anymore.

Now you're just turned on.

"I understand- I can't say I wouldn't have reacted the same way... Hey, I have an idea. Why don't you make it up to me?" You smile back at him, tracing a finger down the soft skin of his muscular bare chest. He tilted his head in response, raising a brow. His body towered over you as the two of you lay there, encompassing you in his thrilling aura.

"You dirty little thing," he cooed before nuzzling his face into your neck, his wet tongue dragging along your skin before placing a soft nibble. You whimpered at the feeling as he continued scraping his teeth along your flesh.

"I would destroy everything for you, my love," his voice is sweet like a summer wind, warm emotions ruffling straight through to your heart. Kayn was everything- the sun, the moon, the stars. In this moment before you share the most intimate of actions, you felt so close to him.

He was being so open after the events that had occurred. You realized perhaps Rhaast was his way of communicating the things he didn't really want to say, and it made you feel warm inside that he was comfortable enough with you to share that side of him.

Your thoughts came to an abrupt stop when Kayn sat up to help you out of your clothes, removing his own swiftly. Your mouth hung open at the sight of him removing the black leather belt from his pants, the corded muscles in his arms flexing as his fingers fumbled with the buckle. When he looked back up at you with a feline gaze, you swore you could see flickers of Rhaast.

He bends, crawling over your squirming frame. The air was thick with tension as he began caressing your body with his large hands. They were rough on your soft skin as he pinched and prodded your nipples, leaning down slowly to suck them one by one.

There was this thing about Kayn- he never stopped watching you. Always looking at your expression, gauging how certain things made you feel. You were so enthralled by the way he looked at you while pleasing you that that alone had your heat rising.

He made his way down your body, peppering kisses and bites as he traveled. Once he reached your front, you hissed in a breath at the first feeling of his tongue on you.

He licked and sucked, his warm tongue caressing everywhere perfectly as he serviced you.

"Fuck, Kayn that feels so good," you moaned, grabbing his hair and tugging- to which he responded with a growl. You knew how that made him feel, and you wanted nothing more than for him to fuck you in that moment. Sure, his mouth felt great, but you knew his cock would feel even better.

He almost became feral, you noticed, as he ceased his movements and sat up, grabbing you and pulling your legs towards him so you were at the edge of the bed.

"You drive me fuckin' crazy baby," his voice gravely, he gripped his thick member, stroking it a few times while looking at you through thick lashes. "I'm going to fuck you, now. Show you who you belong to, right my love?"

"Please Kayn, P-Please fuck me now," you whimpered, your cheeks warm and flushed, a hand caressing your front while the other rested idly by your head.

"I love it when you beg. Only for me, baby. Yeah- fuck," he stammered a bit as he pressed his tip to your entrance, watching his dick become engulfed slowly by your hole. "You're always so gods damned tight for me."

The feeling of his dick had your brain melting, your hand stopping for a moment. Kayn noticed, stopped his movements, and gave you a look.

"Did I tell you to stop, love?" All you could do in response between whimpers was shake your head, and you moved your hand back to keep pleasing yourself as he started picking up the pace. "Gooood, good fucking b/g."

He continued his pace, grunting every few seconds in sync with his thrusts. You rolled your eyes back into your head as you felt yourself climb higher and higher. Kayn leaned down and kissed you passionately, biting your lip as he released you.

"Cum for me, love. I'm not going to last much longer with you gripping me like this. He hissed in his breath as you shuddered and cried out, reaching your climax. Your vision blurred, a few tears dripping down your face as you gripped his forearms.

"Fuck baby- Fuck I'm gonna cum," Kayn groans, whipping his head back. "Take my cum baby, that's it, fuuuuuuck." His hips buck against you as he finds his release and lets out shuttering breaths as he slows to a stop.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you feeling empty but content as he pulls you up further onto the bed and collapses onto the plush mattress.

"Maybe I should get jealous more often if this is how the night ends up," he smiles, and you roll your eyes in response.

"Maybe I shouldn't have rewarded you for that behavior," you giggle, and he scoffs. "Next time let's talk about it first, unless the person you're jealous of actually looks like he is doing something bad?"

"Yeah yeah, I know," now it was his turn to roll his eyes, returning to his normal sassy self for a moment before softening again. "I really am sorry, Y/N. I love you."

"I know you are. Oh and by the way, you may want to save the rest of your apologies for your talk with Yone tomorrow..."

"Shit," was all he responded, shaking his head. "Great... Whatever, he'll get over it. He loves me."

"Yeah, so do I Kayn. So do I," you smile, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight my love."

"Goodnight, baby." He responds, and as when you fall asleep you dream of Kayn and Rhaast and the lovely life you share. Even through the ups and downs he will always be your everything.

[peterdarlingg]

Bad Habits

warnings: none

Paring: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter is still getting used to your habits.

A/n: surprise, I finally wrote something! It’s not the best and it’s a bit short andd it’s not edited so just a warning. Gif is by @peterrparkor But I hope you enjoy none the less and any feedback would be appreciated. 🩷

“What are you doing?”

Peter sat up on the couch brows furrowed, looking at you as you abruptly got up, stood there for a few seconds and walked into the kitchen.

“I want eat brownies so I’m gonna make some.” You stated simply.

“Okay…” peter trailed off. You often did that sort of thing. You would be sitting down together and then an idea would pop into your mind and if you really wanted it you would go do it. He was still kinda getting used to you doing that.

It was 3 am and you woke up hungry. You decided you were craving a big mac. So you proceeded to get up, put on a jacket over your pajamas and left Peter a pillow to cuddle instead.

“Where the hell are you?” Peter sounded over the phone. He was pissed.

“I was hungry so I went to get a Big Mac.” You said nonchalantly, unaware of peter’s state.

Unbeknownst to you, peter woke up suddenly, not sensing you next to him while he was stirring in his sleep and didn’t find you there sleeping soundly as you were next him.

After looking for you all over the small apartment and not finding you, he started to panic. Frantically pulling at his hair and calling you after you didn’t answer like 2 times.

“What…now?” He asked incredulously.

“Well, yeah.” You answered still oblivious to peter’s panicked state. “Well, why were you not answering your phone?” Peter pressed.

“Oh, I’m sorry pete, I have it on silent mode so I didn’t hear it.” You said feeling a bit guilty.

“Okay, when are you getting back? I miss you,” he pouted, starting to calm down knowing you were safe. “I’m already on my way back. I’ll be there in 5.”

When you walked through the door that night happy with your purchase and ready to devour the sandwich, peter was already waiting at the door and enveloped you in very, very tight hug. “Pete, can’t breathe.” You told him voice strained.

“Sorry, sorry.” He pulled away and gave you a passionate kiss that left you dizzy.

You looked at him, he looked tired and his hair disheveled you fussed from running his hand through it too many times, and suddenly you felt really guilty.

“I’m really sorry Peter. I promise to tell you what I’m doing next time. I just- before I moved in with you- before we were together, I’d just- I was alone…and I was just running on autopilot just doing whatever came to mind. I guess I’m still getting used to not being alone…” you trailed off.

“Baby, it’s okay.” He hugged you and kissed your temple. “We’re okay, I was just worried about you, I’m sorry if I came off a bit harsh.” “No, you didn’t I’m sorry. I promise from now on I’ll never leave without telling you, it’s just a habit, a bad one at that.”

Peter cuddled you extra harder after you ate and went to sleep that night.

That was the first time Peter experienced this habit of yours.

“You know…” peter trailed as he walked over to you. “Spider-man can just swing to get you some brownies and be back in like 5 minutes.” He said cockily. “Yeah, yeah I know.” You rolled your eyes, smiling getting out the ingredients.

“It’s better from scratch.” You said smiling.

“Fine, I’ll indulge,” he rolled his eyes playfully.

“There’s no difference though,” he said under his breath. But you heard him. “Peter!” You looked at him angrily but the look in your eyes informed peter that you were just joking around. “I’m sorry, I’ll help, how do I help?”

You started telling Peter what to do. He mixed the dry ingredients while you mixed the wet ingredients and in 10 minutes the brownie batter was ready for the oven that you had preheated.

“I’m actually really excited, I’ve never baked anything before.” Peter said giddily as he sat down on the couch with you to continue watching the movie that was playing.

“Really? Never?” You asked him. “Yeah, I’ve never had the chance to I guess,” he looked a bit embarrassed, and suddenly you were reminded of Peter’s life and how hard he had it. You made it your mission to always make him happy because he deserved nothing else but. Your timer went off for the brownies and you shot up from the couch. “Yay, they’re ready!”

“Oh my goodness these taste amazing,” peter moaned as he tasted the delicious goodness of the fudgy brownies that you made together. “You were right.” Peter told you sheepishly.

“Right about what?” You asked mouthful of brownies.

“Brownies from scratch are better.” He said smiling eyes crinkling.

You smiled at him adoringly and you both continued to eat your baked goodie together, sitting in comfortable silence.

[hoasvuon]

(3:42 AM)

It’s 3:42 AM and you and Taehyun are sitting at a diner booth, ordering breakfast because as you told him, “Breakfast is a social construct and I refuse to let my life be run by society’s rules.”

There’s a feeling Taehyun can’t put his finger on. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s so early in the morning, or the fact that the lights in the diner light up your face in a way that makes it seem like you’re in a black and white movie, illuminating your features. All he can do is focus on the smallest details about you, how you drum the edge of the table as you’re waiting for your food, how you tuck your hair behind your ear, how you are gazing out the window in a way that makes him think that maybe there is something nostalgic out there that he simply can’t see. You reach out to grab the ice water the waitress had given you, holding it in between two hands, and he knows that in a few seconds, you’ll complain about how your hands are cold now (but he won’t mind because it gives him an excuse to hold your hands in between his and blow warm air on them).

Even when the waitress comes with your dishes, he can’t place the feeling he gets when he looks at you. But he’s jolted out of his thoughts when he hears you talking to yourself.

“Oh no”, you mumble sadly, “I put too much ketchup on my eggs, now they’re ruined”

He looks down and sees that, yes, there is quite a large spot of ketchup on your scrambled eggs, far too close to your pancakes, and he knows that though you might be slightly joking, you also will feel a bit sad later in the morning.

Without hesitation, he reaches over with his spoon and scoops up some of the ketchup, leaving just the amount he knows you like. He places it on a stray napkin, and as he looks back up, you have a small smile on your face. 

“Thank you, you say. “I lo-“, you close your mouth quickly and look down at your plate, and let out a small cough. You hadn’t said those words before, and it seemed like 3 AM in a random diner might not be the best place. 

Taehyun looks at you, and how you hold your fork a bit tighter in your hand, a habit you picked up from childhood. He sees how you place the tiniest of salt on your hash browns because even if they’re perfectly seasoned, you feel unsettled without doing it. How, inevitably, you’ll end up giving your bacon to him because even though you insist you like bacon, you don’t, and always refuse to replace it because you know he loves bacon and you want to give him yours. He thinks about all these little things he knows about you that make you you, and how he is utterly, irreversibly, completely enamored with you. And he realizes, how utterly, irreversibly, completely in love with you. 

"I love you", Taehyun blurts out, “I love you too.”, he says the second as a bit of an afterthought, as if to make sure that you love him as well.

It’s a bit of a scary feeling, knowing that one person holds the key to your entire being, and trusting them not to destroy you. But, Taehyun thinks, everyone in this world will end up hurt one way or another. And that no matter what fights the two of you get into, how many small arguments have happened, he could never truly be upset with you. You could tear him apart and he would be okay with it because it’s you. He can’t help but think that if you were the one to hurt him, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You look at him, a bit surprised but with a soft smile on your face, and eyes crinkling at the edges. You nod, and respond, “I love you too.” He sees how you’re smiling to yourself even though you are looking down at your plate, avoiding his gaze. 

The world is still spinning, and outside people are walking by the window, unaware of the blossoming feelings of first love. But it’s 3:48 AM in a random diner, and Taehyun thinks to himself, he’s in love.

[austinsastrology8991]

> Interceptions; through signs/houses <

interceptions are an overcharged, under-appreciated facet within a natives chart. its something you are acutely aware of and are usually extremely distasteful/uncomfortable of. Its something that was neglected in previous lifetimes so you are forced to fix it now...

1st/7th house or Aries/Libra - these people are very noticeable but in a uncomfortable way for themselves and others... they come off extremely strong (they are very imposing accidentally but also not in a good way) and they are always switching between being extremely self conscious of this or very idgaf. This creates a dynamic where they come off very wat da fuq > and are projected onto a lot and have a habit of projecting onto others a lot. 2nd/8th house or Taurus/Scorpio - These people are very insecure, but others are usually extremely unaware of this, which only accelerates the natives insecurity. To others they come off very valuable(2)/powerful(8) but usually they do not relate to this feeling within themselves at all. They however may overcompensate these feelings of inferiority by appearing stronger than they feel inside, and they are very good at convincing others this. Until it does inevitably crumble and everyone is shocked because their facade is relatively strong. 3rd/9th house or Gemini/Sagitarrius - These people are very talkative or the opposite; they are mindful of their answers and those of others, but because of their overthinking tendencies it makes them very fidgety and always need to have a great deal of input into the conversation. This makes others not sure if they smart, because they low key annoying to talk to (ya'll just sayin too much) but they dont appreciate their own cleverness because they mentioned every dot point in existence and this makes them feel stupid; don't know what a summary means or you made 5 summaries which defeats the purpose of one in the first place. 4th/10th house or cancer/capricorn - These guys had a rough childhood and you've never seen a more self protective person of their image. So they never reveal much and this statue-esque vibe they give off is very unesettling and many people talk about this lack of care they display because everyone knows ya'll just give a shit way too much. They avoid responsibility and emotional vulnerability often, and it creates conflicts within their personal life and that of their reputation. 5th/11th house or leo/aquarius - They doin a lot of vibin and not in a viby way. Its too much and they know it too and this creates conflict within their personality of not feeling like they shine in the way they wish they could, so they try even harder to shine the way they envisioned. But too others its the same song / dance we are so used to seeing this with them. This creates conflict in their presence within the community, and it can make them have a poor self image/ identity. 6th/12th house or virgo/pisces - they work a lot but they never satisfied with what they did, so they again work even harder. You can find these guys up at 4 am still tinkering their assignment/ project and even if theirs so many details implanted into it, its never enough and so they still doing more. They also neglect things that are necessary such as eating, or cleaning, because they are so focused on what they wanted to accomplish. This hurts their spirit because they never feel satisfied with what they have done with their life, despite working so damn hard.

> Im going to talk about double signs in my next post; and your double signs are what makes your interceptions far more bearable/ useful. But I want to encourage everyone to work on their interceptions, because it is a weakness, but it really can become a strength if you just put some practical work into it. < How to find interception? easy check yo house cusp; E.g. >

intercepted aries/libra in 12th/6th ;p > BEcause the Aries / Libra symbols is absent ^^^^ also after pisces and before taurus is 'Aries' which is swallowed up within the 12th house****** <That should make it obvious how to read now**** Oh and we always getting 2 gifs do not worry and these gifs *special* they encapsulate intercepted energy perfectly.... actually intercepted energy initself is encapsulation!!!

[oddballwriter]

HEYAA. I’ve been so obsessed with ur MK stuff lately it’s insane. Wondering if I could request a little blurb with Steven? 🙏 Maybe artistic reader who uses Steven as a muse of sorts? 🎨 Maybe Steven finds reader’s sketches of him and Reader is like embarrassed 😨 that he may be uncomfortable with it? Add and change up anything you’d like!! 😽 ur my fav writer thank you 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼❤️❤️

Your Drawings Look like Heaven to Me

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Summary: Steven always enjoys your drawings and art, big or small, painting or simple sketch and doodle. But he's a bit surprised when he discovers that you have a habit of drawing a certain muse that you have. 

Warnings: There's nothing that I can actually thing of other than it's mentioned that the reader draws Steven when he's unaware, but I don't think it's that bad. Also 'Y/n' is used once. 

Author’s Snip: This was meant to be just a little blurb but I got the writing equivalent of zoomies. You asked for a cookie and I made you a cake with layers, frosting, and toppings. This is insane how did I do this. I think it's because I've been drinking a monster while writing this. I have paused the video that I was previously watching in the background because I am so focused. I'm not even joking this shit is 1517 words long and that is before I proof and grammar checked it. I think this might be the longest writing I've done thus far. Enjoy your free cake, anon.

Notes: This is written in the lens of a world where it's just Steven, so none of the actual events in the show happen.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Steven always knew you drew. You met at your jobs at the museum, at the time, you were working the front desk while he of course worked at the gift shop. The two of you weren't all too familiar with each other since you only saw each other in passing. You knew him as Steven from the gift shop, and he knew you as Y/N from the front desk. You did learn more details through others. Steven was a chatty guy who had an impressive knowledge about Egyptology and mythos. And you were the person at the front desk who did nothing but sit there and draw all day when not granting visitors entry, or in most cases, taking a second to scan a preprinted ticket and check the schedule.

Steven heard talk that you were really talented in your art. You were able to draw what were basically pictures of things you saw or even made up. He hadn't seen your actual art till one day he found you sat where he usually did for lunch, drawing the statue man that he talked at everyday. And wow, were they right about how well you could draw. Though while you talked to each other you laughed "Well of course I'm able to draw him perfectly. He doesn't move.".

That lunch break was a long time ago. You two started dating between then and now. Steven managed to leave the museum for a new one that actually let him be a tour guide. You eventually managed to find work that let you use your skills in art instead of using it to beat the boredom of your job. And you also moved in with Steven in his little flat, in which he cleared out some of this clutter to make a space for you to work and make your own.

You would draw little doodles for Steven to have. Like Gus swimming around. An Egyptian god that you made using his books as a reference. You even drew him a little alligator with a speech bubble saying "Later" on a sticky note. He still has it by the way. He laminated it using clear tape and has it in his wallet as a pick-me-up when he's upset or as a lucky charm of sorts. You always made drawings for him. But never once had he thought that you would make drawings of him. Let alone how many drawing you made of him.

Steven isn't a man who likes to snoop around regularly, feeling a massive sense of ruining someone's privacy. But you said that he could always look through your sketchbooks and art pieces if he wanted, as long as it wasn't a commission that was still being worked on, which he respected. You, like any other artist, had a plethora of sketchbooks of different sizes that served different purposes. There were your personal sketchbooks, outline and testing sketchbooks, practice sketchbooks, a lot of sketchbooks with a lot of different things they were for. It amazed him just how many you had and how you were able to remember which is which.

He knew which ones were ones he gifted you though. Steven was never confident when it came to gifting you supplies. He wasn't an artist himself so he didn't know what was perfect and what was something you would say thank you for out of courtesy. One of the things he used as a safe play were sketchbooks. The bookstore he frequented had a section of art stuff and found that the sketchbooks were not only great quality but also had various designs on their covers. So he'd get you one almost every time he went.

When he looked at them on the shelf next to your desk he realized that he had never actually seen inside of those ones. He was a bit hesitant to grab one since he didn't know if you would want him to. It's not like he could ask you right now. You were out running some important errands and he didn't want to bother you. However, they were on the part of the shelf that you put all your regular personal sketchbooks, which he was allowed to look at so he took a one random from the collection and flicked through the pages.

Out of some coincidence, it was the first sketchbook he got you, which was admittedly one he got you before he learned what pages were good for actual art. The first few pages were doodles that were likely from testing how the paper held up with the actual process of drawing which soon stopped and the rest of the art was actually taped on like they originally belonged to another sketchbook.

Steven thought of that as a clever use for the pages. You would sometimes make art you thought was nice on miscellaneous papers and would simply take the piece with the art out and stick it somewhere else. But he soon notices a theme amongst all the doodles and drawings, which then follow into all of the other sketchbooks he gifted you.

Him.

Most of the drawings in these sketchbooks were of him.

They were all different. Some were him lounging around or taking a nap. Something that would have made him unaware of you creating a drawing of him. There was one that was him asleep laying in bed from what would be your side of the bed. His face was calm, the limpness of his arms and body was captured perfectly, the sheets drawn with the most accurate wrinkles, and the lighting gave the impression of the light of the morning that came in through the curtains. It looked like you simply took a picture of him while he slept but it was clearly a sketch drawn using a pen and pencil.

There was these bust and face portraits that spanned through out the books, of course of him. The first were already so good in detail considering these had to be drawings of him from memory. But they only got more detailed as they went on. You managed to get his amount of stubble right. You had the little baby curls that lived along his hair line. The crease between his eyebrows he had since he always had a slight anxious expression. That tiny little dimple that he had next to his nose that he didn't know existed until you pointed it out one time.

Steven's mind was boggling to him to see such detailed drawings of him that looked so carefully done even when they were simply quick sketches. They were life-like. They were him. They were Steven. To be honest, how could it not? You see his face all the time. So why wouldn't you have him completely memorized. It was just the fact that you had taken time and pages to draw him and him alone.

It was a bit jarring, for the both of you, when you walked through the front door with a hand full of groceries and other things from your errands and he was seen looking at all the drawings of him. You were embarrassed that he finally saw all your drawings of him and worried that he would think it was weird. He thought that he crossed a line and breached your privacy.

You two avoided talking about it till Steven finally did during dinner later that evening.

"You, uh, draw me... a lot." Steven spoke. "Yeah. I do." you blush as you avoided eye contact in case his eyes showed that your fear of him finding your habit with drawing him was strange was correct. "Why do you draw me so much?" he questions. You sighed, "It's sort of a habit I formed." you confess. You proceeded to explain how it started,

"I first drew you as an exercise to get rid of some art block. I usually draw faces of people I know as a means to do that. So I drew you. It was okay. But when I looked at it a couple days later I thought that I could do it again to improve on detailing some more. Then I used you as a study for lighting and colors.".

"Then, sometimes, I would just draw you when I thought you looked pretty or thought of you. And that's sort of what I've been doing." you explain further. "I thought you would find it weird if you saw all the times I drew you and so I just put them in the books you got me and hoped you wouldn't see them." you say in a timid manner.

"I don't think it's strange. I think it's actually quite flattering." Steven clarifies. "I was just surprised that you think of me as something worth drawing. Especially with such detail." he remarks. You breathe a sigh of relief at that.

"If I'm entirely honest, love," Steven spoke up, "Never tell me that you're drawing me from where I am. I'll get nervous and possibly ruin the position that you're drawing me in." he remarks.

[inanimatefan1]

Did not go as planned (Collage roommate Sneaker TF Story)

My roommate Tyler like new sneakers, i was dying to know what it was like to be his sneaker, so when he left the room to go to the bathroom, i transformed into a pair of sleek, brand-new sneakers, for him, nothing will go wrong, i thought.

My perspective has radically shifted; seeing the room from the sneaker's point of view and him coming out of the bathroom. I feel Tyler's feet coming closer, and before I know it, his socks are slipping into me. It's a weird feeling, not unpleasant, but I am suddenly very aware of how sweaty and smelly feet can get. I can't move or express any emotion, but internally I'm both thrilled and apprehensive.

"Wow, these feel great!" Tyler exclaims, oblivious to the fact that his new kicks are actually his friend, me, transformed. He ties the laces, securing his feet snugly within me.

That's when I notice Tyler reaching for a marker on the table. He uncaps it and scribbles something on the sneakers tongue. I feel a slight tickling sensation but can't see what he's written. Instinctively, I know that Tyler's just marked me as his property. My heart sinks, realizing the gravity of what that might mean for my ability to change back. I frantically focus, trying to muster the energy to revert to my original form. But nothing happens. I'm stuck, and the panic begins to set in. My situation worsens as I remember Tyler's reputation for making his belongings quickly smelly and worn out. I'm about to become one of those belongings, I think to myself, but all I can do is "exist" as a pair of his sneakers.Tyler starts walking around, and I can feel his weight pressing down with each step. The warmth and moisture from his feet start to make me feel more and more like a regular pair of sneakers, and less like Josh trapped in this form.

Finally, Tyler heads to his friends college dorm room, where he meets up with some friends, notorious for their messy habits. They're impressed with Tyler's new sneakers, giving them a few admiring glances, completely unaware that I am those sneakers. Tyler kicks me off, throwing me casually into a corner where I land next to other worn-out shoes and discarded clothes. The smell is overwhelming, a cocktail of sweat, dirt, and who knows what else. As I lie there, waiting for what comes next, a sinking feeling washes over me. Tyler and his friends start a video game marathon, and I know it's going to be a long night. Even worse, Tyler's got a track meet tomorrow, and I've got a front-row seat—or perhaps more accurately, a foot-row seat. All I can do now is be the best pair of sneakers I can be, because for the foreseeable future, that's all I am. And as much as I'd like to change back, it looks like I'm stuck in this form for a while—Tyler's smelly, well-worn sneakers. And there I am, Josh, trapped as a pair of sneakers with no way to communicate or revert to my original form, subjected to whatever Tyler and his college buddies have in store for me.

Over the course of several weeks, I come to realize that my efforts to transform back are futile. Each day, Tyler's activities—whether it's a long run, a gym workout, or simply walking around campus—intensify the smell inside me. Initially, the stench was overpowering and unpleasant, but a strange thing starts to happen as the days pass. With every wear, the scent permeates me more deeply, and I find myself becoming increasingly disoriented yet oddly calm. It's as if Tyler's distinctive smell has become a potent aroma that affects my very essence. I become more accustomed to the smell, and the sharp edges of my previous panic and anxiety start to blur. As Tyler slips his feet into me day after day, something within me starts to change. What was once a nauseating odor has become, inexplicably, comforting. I feel more attuned to Tyler's rhythm and routine. It's like I'm enveloped in a sensory haze, somewhat akin to a high. When he takes me off at the end of the day and tosses me into the smelly corner of his room, I no longer dread it; I actually look forward to joining that pungent pile of worn clothes and old shoes. After a few weeks of this, I find myself in an almost zen-like state whenever Tyler wears me. My earlier thoughts of changing back into my human form have all but vanished. It's as if Tyler's smell has a hypnotic quality, grounding me in this new existence. And so, I find a strange form of peace in my new life as a pair of sneakers, completely intoxicated by Tyler's scent. My worries, my former life, and even my sense of self become distant memories. I'm not just a pair of sneakers; I'm Tyler's sneakers, and strangely enough, that has become my entire world. I don't know if I'll ever change back, or even if I want to. For now, I'm oddly content, basking in the heady atmosphere of Tyler's college life. And so, I continue to exist, half-aware and half-lost in a fragrant fog, a small but integral part of Tyler's world.

I can't imagine anything better than being Tyler's smelly sneaker…

First part of at least 4 parts.

[pianocat939]

Celina please with a cherry on top can I please request some HCs on Yandere Donnie x villain reader that likes to flirt with him ?

Why am I so happy when my name is used??? I literally hear it every day???

Enemies to lovers except make it unhinged and terrifying

Tw: stalking, implied kidnapping, MC gets tranquilized, Donnie you don't need to be like Mikey

Yandere D'Nello with Villain MC who Flirts a lot

I think his reaction can depend on what precisely the flirting is.

Like if it was your more typical romantic flirting, then his reaction is indifferent. He might act cocky/confident but isn't affected in a sense it is supposed to be.

However, if it's more praise/compliments (specifically over his gadgets or the intellectual aspects about him), he will be both happy and flustered.

If you're in the middle of a fight then it'll distract him slightly, unless you're like the Kraang or something that's offended him greatly before.

When he goes back to the lair, he'll immediately scour for information about you. Whether it's your past life or the list of crimes you've committed; in other words, he wants to know everything about you.

Over time, he'll try to purposefully bump into you somehow. Most likely from observing your habits through cameras/trackers/records. He wants to hear more, hear more of your words. Your lovely voice, the terrifying laugh, he wants to be consumed by your everything.

If his brothers are sane, then they'll obviously notice how he's antsy to go to the same place every night. So, like a normal person, they'll follow him and the sight they see makes them want to pluck their eyes out (except for Mikey).

Their brother, Donatello, the guy who is the most lucid of them all, is crushing over an enemy? With a friend, it would make sense but fighting someone every day to meet up with them? Quite the wonder.

Raph is going to rush in, defeat the villain then get Donnie out of there as quick as possible. Leo, could either go two ways, help Raph, or go up to Donnie and either laugh at him or question whatever the fuck he is doing.

Mikey just cheering Donnie on. He sees no wrong over him crushing over an enemy and plus it's not like he's any better with all the unhinged things he does on the regular.

During the fight, Donnie is going to ask questions about you and in general, try to get closer. Don't mind his brothers, continue your behaviour, please!

Let's say the next fight after his brothers fail to stop him, he meets you again. But this time, he holds a launcher. You obviously know it's a weapon so you keep an eye on it, already knowing its intentions.

Meanwhile, Donnie's grinning in joy. Finally, the day has come!

As you battle, he dodges your attacks, not attacking once. He just clutches the launcher and gets too close for comfort.

Unaware there's an opening for him, he launches his weapon, hitting right at your neck. What your thought was a bullet or rocket of some kind, turns out to be a tranquilizer.

Usually, it would take a few minutes for it to kick in, but with his engineering, it's much more potent. Within seconds you're becoming drowsy, your vision blurring.

And in the final moments your awake, he kneels in front of you (as you've fallen down because of the drugs) his obsessive thoughts leaking out.

"Hah...Haha. Fi-Finally, I can take you home and you can talk to me whenever! I can't wait to show you all the things I've made for you!"

——————————————————

Bro's parental issues...Like Splinter no need to give the Asian parent treatment.

- Celina

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Would I be the Asshole if I told my parents about my sister’s drinking habits

So I (18F) have a sister who I’ll call A(16, almost 17F) who is having issues with our parents. She has a boyfriend around the same age and they have had sex and my parents found out about it. This greatly damaged the relationship between my sister and our catholic mother who is also a conservative. I was mostly unaware to all of this because I don’t really talk to anyone in my family outside of basic conversations. I watched them all fight with each other and figured out that the only real way to avoid these confrontations was to make avoid any possible conflict, which involved as little interaction as possible.

I am still in high school (like I turned 18 this month) and I still live with my family. I only found out about all of this because one night around two months ago my sister had a two of her friends over and was drinking. She called me around 11 pm and was very drunk. I went downstairs to the basement and she told me about how she had sex and how our parents are angry. She said that her boyfriend’s mom feels more like a mother than our mom does. Anyway they tried and failed to go get more alcohol (my sister was the only drunk one at this point) and a few hours later (1 am to 2 am) she called me again and convinced me to drive her to a friends house to get more alcohol. They were all at least a little drunk at this point and I agreed because they were going to get this shit one way or another and I would rather it be with a sober person driving then any other alternative. I know this was a bad idea and decision and that I suck for actually doing it and enabling this.

Well it’s now October and she’s going to a party that she helped plan. To get in you would need to bring alcohol. She’s bringing a shit ton (their is a place that won’t check for ID’s near us) and so far the strongest thing I know that they have is Fireball. I know that a lot of people are going to this party and I’m worried about her, less so because of the people and more because she’s a fucking alcoholic. My friend said that I should tell my parents but I don’t want to make the situation between them worse.

I don’t think that my words mean much to my sister. If I asked her to stop drinking I don’t think she would. If I told my parents then their is only one real person who would have been able to give them that information and it is me. I don’t know the location of the party or the address and I want to avoid getting any authorities involved because that would be so much worse than anything else I could do. But I don’t know what to do. I don’t want my sister to get hurt and this isn’t healthy but I don’t know how my parents would react. If I tell her to stop or tell her that if she doesn’t stop I’ll tell our parents then she will just stop telling me and I don’t want her to get hurt.

My parents also didn’t fully care that she has been drunk before. My mom is the only one that really knows about her being at parties in the past with alcohol and she definitely doesn’t know the extent of all of this, but again Catholics. My great grandma’s(or aunt? I don’t know how I’m related to these people) reaction to me, my sister, and out cousin’s drinking her wine was “your just like me!” and my grandpa on my dad’s side has given us shots in front of my mom.

Their is a, very small, chance that my parents know a small amount of what is happening. And I don’t want to make things worse, but this isn’t good and it’s not getting better.

So, WIBTA if I told my parents about my sister’s drinking habits?

What are these acronyms?

[necroromantics]

Please tell us about them (I am listening intently)

BRO OK Im guessing you mean my OC. His name is Tobin Lawsen he's 19 years old currently. He's my first ever OC and I made him with my friends for a Creepypasta AU we made called Creepedverse. BIG PARAGRAPHS WARNING UNDER THE CUT I LOVE YAPPING 🔥 (Also adding on that all the content about Tobin is under my #tomboc tag)

He's canonically shipped with my girlfriends OC Tali Marks and he loves her very much, she's the only person he really cares about and is very protective over her, but he keeps that to himself cuz he knows she can defend herself. He's an arms and narcotics dealer so he makes money through selling illegal drug and weapons. And hes good at it. He's really dumb when it comes to booksmarts, barely knows how to read or do maths, but is very street smart.

Tobins an insensitive asshole and generally uncaring of himself and others. Nothing matters to him. He's also really unserious and bored all the time so he does annoying or stupid shit to entertain himself. He's petty, defensive, mean, likes to joke around and make people laugh or make himself laugh, and also a huge prick. Has a habit of insulting people just to get a rise out of them, he thinks its funny

Besides being a lil jokester and having fun, he's very out of tune with his own emotions. Really emotionally inept. He doesn't feel much of anything besides apathy, anger and joy. Maybe awkwardness or discomfort. Tobin is very very indifferent about a lot of things, he's the definition of this: 😬👍. The things he cares about are the things that actively negatively impact his life. And even then, he's unable to really care about himself or his own wellbeing, just as hes unable to care about everyone else. He has self-respect, and always puts himself first though

He's pretty morbid and vulgar. Very socially inept so he doesn't have any sense of right/wrong, respect for boundaries and doesn't consider whats appropriate to say/do. Always runs his mouth and gets into fights. Off-putting, but not necessarily a horrible guy. Tobin barely has any moral code, but the one he does, he stands up for with his life. He was raised in a way where people who hurt children and women get the shit kicked out of them, and thats the mindset he keeps. Besides this though, he genuinely does not care about whats deemed morally acceptable or not, which makes his job a lot easier. Would befriend a cannibal for fun

Some themes I associate with him are the sun, dogs, peaches, war and fire. Sometimes Ill throw in some rot, religious, or death themes

The general story with him is that he killed his dad with a shotgun and then went on the run with Tali, and they ended up in a fictional town in Alabama called Farnbury. From there, he got Slender Sick and became an unwilling, mostly unaware proxy. He'd wake up in places with no memory of how he got there, blood on his hands, dirt on his jeans. Random nosebleeds, coughing up blood, paranoia, seeing things. It got to the point he starts obsessively looking into the cause of it all, and discovers more and more about Slenderman. He tries his best to get rid of it, and the sickness cuz he hates being controlled and used as a puppet

ALL ART DRAWN BY MY GIRLFRIEND @clockeyedtoy

[libbee]

My 8th house transformation notes:

You dont remember the past you anymore because you have gradually healed and changed. Intuition, synchronicity, occult tools, dream symbolism, inner knowledge are your methods for healing and transformation. But this change is not sudden like the nature of 8th house. It is rather slow, gradual and blending into each other. It is like fixing your self esteem issues then slowly learning to handle negative emotions then learning to change destructive and dysfunctional thought pattern then learning to destroy previously held beliefs and ideals then seeing connection between psyche and people. In this way, you slowly heal before you know it.

Look at the above image. You go from violet to red slowly and the whole journey matters, each step matters.

2. You become fearless. You have a knowing that whatever happens is meant to happen so taking career risks is a brave decision. You feel different from the mainstream idea of youth, people, life. It is like most people in the world are so unaware of the self and soul, they are so detached from their emotional lives, it is like the world is upside down to you. You have no problem keeping to yourself because you dont long for social validation and acceptance. This is where the stereotype of mysterious persona comes from.

3. "Thinking is hard that's why most people judge". You have incredible patience and tolerance for problematic people because you see through their fake performance and see the emotional suffering they suffer to feel powerful over others, overcome their insecurity by cheap means, embarrassing themselves by thinking their tricks are working. Oddly, you feel sympathy and compassion for them.

4. With all the thinking, contemplation, self development arises a sense of self. Your self image is much stable. Transformation is a humbling process, it really awakens you that there is some higher power who knows everything for some reason somehow. With this awareness, you search for meaning in life. Some might become passionately devoted to a craft, work, skill, art, worship. While you might be a chaotic mess before, now you feel like a wise sage. You have really lived life, experienced the magic of being and know the "secrets" of life. Your presence is calming. You are conscious and self aware. You really know what you are doing. I am reminded of tarot card The Magician:

This is your persona, the shadow is the "bad people" you attracted in your life. You are now the lighter side of the magician that is: will to power over yourself, influence others positively, resourceful, skill, logic, intellect, have psychic powers, practitioner of occult. But you are also aware of the darker side that is: power over others, manipulation, greed, untrustworthiness, trickery, cunning, narcissism, liar, charlatan. You can recognize some of the people you met in your life in these keywords, can you? Friends/family/lovers/colleagues, anyone who showed a kind of revelation to you that what appears on surface is not the same as internal person.

Now you can see why you attracted a certain kind of people in your life who were your spiritual teachers. They were simply your shadow that you denied in yourself. With this knowledge, you are a whole person who is naturally called to do self actualization. There is no going back from here. But it is a journey you are excited to undertake. If you are really self aware, you would know you kind of put on a mask in social personality but in private you drop that mask to do inner work and be yourself with all the light and darkness.

5. When it comes to transformation, we hear things like "change your way of life". What it means is to change your habits, beliefs and thought patterns. Once the old system is destroyed, there is a void and that cannot sustain for too long. You immediately need a new system to hold your life in place otherwise that stage of dissolution can be really paralyzing. Like you are so sad and confused that you cannot leave your room, brush, bath, socialize, study, work.

To tell you an example, this is the skeletal system of a bird, it holds the bird's body upright, without this system the bird cannot fly, if a bone is fractured the bird is dysfunctional, if there is sickness the bird is in pain. Just like the body needs a system, we also need a system in daily mundane life. A routine, a structure, many many habits that are autonomous, thought processes to hold you up. This is the adult life where one is responsible for themselves and so they need a solid framework for their life. What habits you need to change is a personal journey but the habit must change.

6. Old impulses and temptations lack their lusture. The temptation to binge watch instagram reels? Nah, it just does not feel tempting. Temptation to binge eat 5000 kcal food? Nah, the temptation is gone. To tell you an example, it is compared to a dried raisin that has lost its juice so the old temptations are just not dopamine gratifying:

You have this sense of "I will not do or say anything that makes me feel ashamed of myself". "I will live my life by my values and principles". "I will not be cringey, I will be a person people can rely upon". It is a strange feeling, you will feel it when the transformation happens in your life. My intention to write this post is that of validation of your feeling. Spiritual awakening is a really dark and confusing step. It is like this meme:

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

[amc-iwtv]

Do you have headcanons for fluffy loustat?

I have a million, thank you for asking <3. I am less evil now because of this ask. (Part 1).

I like to think Loustat exchanged rings at some point, both of them are family heirlooms, since Louis is the eldest son he is expected to pass down the family engagement ring, and Lestat kept one of the rings his mother gave him and gave it to Louis. Louis never wore his ring in public until after Lestat "died" and he wanted to hold onto something from him that Claudia couldn't call him out on because it was given to him before she was "reborn".

While Lestat didn't personally write a song for Louis until after their relationship broke down because writing music is something he did with Nicky, he didn't want to curse this relationship. However, he does frequently get portraits commissioned of Louis, plans family many pictures, and pays to have his favorite composure make music for Louis (without lyrics). Lestat maintains many of his outdated courting gestures like hair in lockets. Yes, Louis was shocked when he first ask for a lock of his hair, "Louis my love, it will grow back almost immediately!"

Without realizing one of Louis's number one ways of rejecting advances from strangers, men or women, is to say "I'm married." It comes out without him even meaning to say it and he's always scared the person is going to find out he openly lives with a man. After they are traveling Europe, instead he says, he's a recent widower.

Louis is a pretty good singer, but he does not sing in public, he finds it embarrassing. Lestat convinces him to sing as much as possible, mainly during the holidays or on Claudia's birthday. Louis does sing in the shower often enough. So when Lestat can't convince him to sing, he sits outside the door of their bathroom while Louis showers and listens to his singing.

Show Exclusive: Sometimes they fall asleep after sex in their beds and don't make it to their coffin. So midday Lestat wakes up early and carries Louis to his coffin so he doesn't notice the coffin is just for vampire tradition and aesthetic.

Louis is an affectionate clingy horny drunk.

Their first bubble bath together was a spiritual experience. Lestat ran their scrub over Louis's skin, and Louis washed Lestat's hair, they rarely do it because Louis still felt exposed changing in front of Lestat, but the rare times they did do it, it was very intimate, even without sex.

They often sit on the couch with a catalog of girls' clothes ordering outfits for Claudia. They have the pettiest gayest little arguments over what they should buy for her.

They perform plays specifically for Claudia, with costumes and accompanying music. They can take her to plays all the time, but they like to insert vampire characters, gay romance, and themes in the silly little skits they do for her. Sometimes Louis just reads poetry to the two of them but Lestat has a whole comedy routine for his husband and child when they have been sad.

Show Exclusive: Louis is a great cook, he and Grace learned from the family cook, not his mother, but he's sad he'll never be able to share his talent with Lestat and Claudia. It is a silly thing to be sad about, but can't help it!

Lestat being the older vampire maker wakes up significantly earlier than Louis and watches him sleep, or he protectively sits guard over him until he wakes, it's a habit he can't seem to break, Louis is completely unaware.

Lestat frequently throws parties to celebrate anniversaries he makes up. Party for the first time they kissed/made love, party for the first time he and Louis shared a victim (eat a meal together), party for the first time he heard Louis sing, etc.

They dress each other. Louis just buys outfits for Lestat that strike his eyes while he's on the way home, and Lestat has bespoke suits made for Louis at the drop of a hat.

Louis writes poems about Lestat that are so intimate and revealing he could never share them.

Lestat has a book of unfinished Louis-inspired songs that he eventually sings during his rockstar phase.

In the modern day after they make up, they see every vampire romantic film ever made together, even if it sucks. Humans dating vampires is their #1, especially if the human stays human for a significant amount of time and never turns.

They dance together regularly like Lestat turns on the gramophone and Louis immediately takes his hands, they especially enjoy those dances where both can lead or take turns leading, like in the books and show. It's a silly little act of love that they never try to explain or justify to anyone.

When Louis lives in his shitty little shack in the woods, Lestat just delivers him gifts and Louis keeps every single one, no matter how stupid and corny, all the teddy bears, hallmark cards, and flowers (even after they are dead).

They liked to drink the blood of humans high on hallucinogens together and share a trip. They rarely have sex while high on LSD, so it is just for enhanced intimacy. Loustat did LSD and transcended it together. No need for therapy. It solved all their problems, and the end <3.

[ryuichirou]

Pspspspspsps it is the 💙 Anon that lives in the anon asks messages, hello, how are we all doing? I hope it's well.

So I'mma do what I am best known for, head canon times 😎

I think I asked about if you guys have any threesome pairing and I think I saw Floyd and Jade sharing. And ya know, ya hc asking anon needs to ask.

Headcanon, how they share Idia or Riddle?

Don't mind 💙 anon feasting on the headcanons meal~

( This is also my contract for being this account headcanons number 1 fan /j)

Hello, 💙 Anon! We are well, I hope you are doing good too. Thank you so much for reading our posts and asking for more headcanons. I am very happy you like these!

As always, it took me some time to get to your ask, but still, here they are: headcanons about Floyd and Jade sharing Idia and Riddle. As the theme suggests, these are mostly spicy, so keep that in mind.

Sooo, starting with Riddle.

Floyd and Jade would mess with Riddle and play with him mentally quite intensely. During their one-to-one interactions, they would flirt with him, hint at having certain feelings,  gaslight Riddle into thinking that Floyd is unaware that they aren’t dating (or are they?), and that Jade wants to pursue Riddle too despite that (does he want to?). They make poor Riddle’s brain melt, and they know it darn well, they’re having so much fun with it. At the end of the day, they’ll guilt-trip Riddle into sleeping with both of them. Although Riddle isn’t an idiot, so maybe deep inside he understands that these jerks are messing with him. But he got so caught up in their games that… oops.

Sometimes Jade just does his own thing (like homework) while these two are having sex in the same room. Sometimes Floyd has to do his own thing (like homework) while Jade is having fun with Riddle. And Floyd usually gets frustrated and pissed off, because he wants to join, and ends up joining almost instantly anyways. Riddle expresses his disapproval for both of these scenarios, but in actuality his body reacts to it quite well.

One tiny Riddle and two huge tweels is a horrible (in a good way) combo, because there are days when Riddle’s feet don’t reach the floor for hours, because these two just keep passing him to each other and manhandling him however they want until they’re satisfied.

Both Jade and Floyd are amazed by how prude yet perverse Riddle actually is. Whenever he says something about how despicable all the things that tweels are doing to him are, Jade and Floyd just look at each other and snicker. Riddle is super amusing to them, they are definitely going to talk about how hilarious it was when Riddle refused to kiss Jade because he is technically dating Floyd… while having sex with both of them.

Sometimes there is still this feeling of Floyd being possessive and selfish and not wanting to share Riddle with Jade. But he is never antagonistic towards Jade when it happens, but needy and kind of aggressive towards Riddle instead. As if poor Riddle wanted to spend time with either of these creeps… In general, everything depends on Floyd’s mood, and Jade is very good at telling when he shouldn’t invite himself into the situation and when he can push Floyd’s buttons a little bit, to mess with Riddle for the most part.

Alrighty, now let’s talk about poor poor Idia lol

In contrast to the tweels’ tactics with Riddle (with Floyd getting into him first, and Jade appearing after), with Idia they approached him together from the very beginning. After they’ve gotten a little taste of him, it became a habit for the tweels to hunt him down whenever they notice a glimpse of his shiny blue hair anywhere in school. Idia hides from them, because once he’s spotted, he can’t run away.

They are suuuuper chatty with Idia, both before and during sex. Sometimes while groping Idia together, they talk about him as if he isn’t present in the room, and even though it is super humiliating, it tickles something inside of Idia’s brain and body. In a good way. He is going to reflect about how much of a horrible maso trash he is later…

When they talk to Idia directly though, they love to narrate his reactions, point out how the colour of his hair changes, how red his face is. One of the tweels always makes sure that Idia can’t hide his face or any part of his body for that matter, so he is always completely exposed to them.

Sometimes Idia feels like these two are simply marking their territory on him with his bites, and partially he is right. The tweels have an unspoken competition to bite Idia in the most unexpected places. They also love to admire the bitemarks afterwards and figure out who made each one. Sometimes they ask Idia just to mess with him.

Whenever they have sex with Idia separately, the other one arrives some time later with a “hey I heard you had fun with (the other one), tell me everything, it’s my turn now btw”. Of course, Idia would never tell someone such embarrassing things, but the tweels are very good at making others talk, so it’s not an issue for them.

Ironically, I have another ask with nsfw headcanons for the tweels and Idia, so expect a post with another 5 headcanons right after this one lol