#i apologize for not doing it justice

[vandervoiz]

@constellation-skirmishes

absolutely love the force ghost padmé au and i just had to a lil something for it fyi i am DEEPLY sorry that this is only a shitty ms paint doodle but i needed this out of my system

[pokeberry5]

inspired by those textposts about dick rocking up to the rest of titans with tim for the first time and kori et al. being like: is that the stalker kid???

bonus:

warm ups:

[onyourowndaisymae]

don't mind me... just thinking about the dateables slowly dropping the rest of their roster for you as they fall head over heels...

diavolo // barbatos (you are here) // simeon // solomon -- x gn!reader, NSFW below the cut

barbatos, who will always be there for lord diavolo. when the idea of an exchange program first popped in the prince's head, barbatos was the backboard in which diavolo bounced his ideas off of. humans and angels in the devildom? how would we keep them safe? what would their curriculum look like? the program slowly molds into shape with each of these conversations. he watches as the idea grows to a proposal, then a plan, and finally, a real project to work towards. the prince is always chipper when discussing the program. a few nobles doubt that the plan will come to fruition, but barbatos has long since learned that doubting the prince will only motivate him more. when the day of the exchange program begins, barbatos watches with a small, almost entirely smile as the future king of the devildom welcomes the new students to his academy.

barbatos, who lives to please. it's his purpose, his sole duty in the devildom day in and day out. when lord diavolo orders him to make sure you feel welcome, he does the job with flourish. your favorite desserts are always at tea when you visit. he's sure to answer any questions or concerns you have promptly as you tour the castle. he even loosens the leash on the young master just a little as the two of you grow closer, giving him some grace to spend time with you over staying cooped up in his office-- so long as you continue to enjoy yourself. maybe somewhere along the way affection blurs into duty, obligation fading into genuine interest. he's there to lend a listening ear, to be a shoulder to cry on or a hand to hold should you so desire. barbatos never oversteps his bounds, for that would be wholly unprofessional. but he never speaks up when you linger in the kitchen, shuffling in your spot as you babble on about whatever comes to mind. he never rushes you out after a long day at the castle visiting the young master, even when the skies are dark and lucifer is impatient to know your estimated arrival time back at the house of lamentation. it's the little things that let you know he cares... maybe even a little more than he believes he should.

barbatos, who doesn't mind your company-- even if you're a little distracting. your laughter echoes through the garden, giddy chirps quickly becoming loud, joyous barks of noise as little d's bound around your feet. their voices overlap, all too excited to be avoiding their gardening duty, as they bombard you with jokes and stories. barbatos should send them on their way. but you look so happy. you once said that they reminded you of dogs from the human realm with the way they darted around and got into trouble. the metaphor wasn't perfect, considering they were still conniving little demons, but they'd suffice. anything to ease your homesickness, after all. he doesn't even realize the tree trimmers in his own hands have stalled until you cry out-- how long had he been watching you? in a moment of darting demons and misplaced footsteps, you tumble to the ground, tripped by one of the little d's. he knows it's an accident, but his tone is venomous as he tells the demons to get away from you. they scatter like roaches. he's quick to make his way to your side, and you laugh, brushing off his concerns as he helps you up. but look. your palm is red and irritated from the impact. it's not enough of a scrape to draw blood, but you still got hurt. barbatos bows deeply to apologize for allowing them to take things too far-- he should have been watching better. he'll find a fitting punishment for them, although he doesn't share that with you. your hands wave in panic as you assure him no, it's okay, don't apologize! he inspects the injury again, gloved fingers gliding against the wound, watching your face from the corner of his eye to see if he's causing you any discomfort. you appear to be fine. barbatos does the courteous thing-- surely, that's the only motivator for his actions, nothing else-- and presses a soft kiss to the wound as a final, silent apology. your eyes are wide when he meets them again, lips curling nervously into an uncertain smile. if he didn't know any better, he'd say you look like you're already plotting your next injury. maybe that's just his imagination.

barbatos, who has grown. who has lived a long, long life, and will continue to live far into the future, where the human mind can no longer perceive time. he was around long before you were a fruit on your family tree-- hell, he was probably born before it was even planted. he's seen civilizations rise and fall. greed has swallowed whole kingdoms under his silent watch, castles crumbling under the weight of their own hubris while he didn't say a word. humans are so flawed, so sinful. he's never cared much for their weight in his life. he used to think the realms were better off separate-- until he met the young master, of course-- but now he knows where he was wrong. your clumsy fingers fumble with the ingredients, their foreign colors and textures tripping you up as you follow the recipe he wrote out for you. he has to stop himself from micromanaging you. barbatos watches you from the corner of his eyes as he kneads out the pastry dough in his hands. the cultural exchange must be hard for you, even after all these months you've been immersed in demon culture. he doesn't think about it, didn't think about it, until one of the brothers brought it up in passing. how strange. you've adapted quite well to everything. his mind wanders as he watches you look between measuring cups. how long as it been? how long have these sorts of feelings been dormant in him, this level of passion for another living creature? you captivate him like no other. when he was a younger demon, he spent years wandering, indulging every hedonistic desire he had. there were countless lovers left in his dust, tangled bedsheets and broken hearts trailing back to the dawn of time. it'd been a long time since he bothered to look at anyone romantically, even longer since someone stirred these feelings up on their own. yet here you were. special, truly. a grin split your face, and barbatos watched as you did a little dance to celebrate your successful attempt at completing this portion the recipe. praise flowed like warm honey from his lips. his words made your grin wider, if at all possible. you crossed the counter to press a giddy little kiss against his cheek, and he stilled for a long moment. how did a little kiss affect him so? this, he might never realize. he broke the spell with a small chuckle and returned the favor-- properly, this time, pressing his lips against yours for a moment before refocusing your attention on the desserts you had yet to finish. he'd met a lot of humans in his lifetime, and yet there was something about you none of the rest of them had. but what? he'd gladly spend as long as he needed to in pursuit of that answer.

barbatos, who will never get tired of a quiet morning. they're rare in his profession-- usually he's up early, silently pattering about as he begins preparing to wake the rest of the castle. but today that is not the case. today he's curled around you like vines on ruins, body intertwined with yours until he hardly knows where he ends and you begin. the crypt he calls a room is dark at all hours of the day, only illuminated by candles and other such lights when someone walks in. but you've got a special lamp from the human world that brightens your room in tune with the time of day, like the sun in the human realm does naturally. the warm light caresses the curve of your cheeks, the curl of your lips, the fluttering of your eyelids as you begin to stir. there's a part of him that wants you to stay asleep. he wants to observe your drowsy form a little longer, to burn the shape of you into his brain so he'll never know another moment without your face. but your eyes open, and you smile-- maybe having you wake up isn't such a bad thing. you rasp a good morning. he returns the favor. and when you kiss him good morning, he again follows suit. it's lazily, all warm lips and breathy chuckles as your hands come to his cheeks. his arm was already wrapped around your side, and barbatos takes the opportunity to rub circles into your back. neither of you pull away, and lazy kisses grow more heated when left to progress. his lips trail across your skin, breath tickling your collarbone, your sternum, your stomach, until he reaches the waistband of your sleep shorts. he spares you a quick glance to see you nod, easing yourself out of your lower garments with his assistance. his tongue laps softly at your sex, eliciting a content sigh from you. your thighs wrap carefully around his head, and his arms link around them to hold you close. sleep clings to your skin like his touch. it's all light, all careful, his lips wrapping around your sex and sucking just enough to make you whine. it's a gentle build up of pleasure inside you. his fingers replace his lips somewhere along the way, stroking you as his tongue moves instead to your hole. his tongue pushes shallowly inside you, alternating between lapping and thrusting in a way that leaves you squirming around his head. trembling fingers grip his hair when you eventually climax. there's love in his eyes and in his smile as he licks his mess clean, his spit mixing with yours juices around his mouth and between your thighs. he only moves when you murmur something about wanting him inside you-- that catches his attention, and he's quick to finish cleanup before slipping out of his own clothes. he needs nothing more than a simple kiss to be prepped for you after such a wonderful show. your pleasure is his pleasure. his lips meet yours, and he lines himself up carefully before pushing into your hole with a few languid, easy thrusts. a sigh catches between your joined lips-- is it his, or yours?-- and he waits a moment before moving inside of you. you exist in many timelines, many worlds, all living different lives with different people. but he is eternally grateful he lives in this one. he couldn't imagine every being content after having you like this, ever craving someone else like he does you. a lifetime without you is simply not worth living in-- that, barbatos is sure of.

taglist for this series: @the-demonus-aunt // @scienceisfornerds // @hostilemakeover // @snow-fall1 // @kachan890 // @rphantom1 // @respitable // @deepseafragments // @niinian

[lucassinclaer]

SINCLAIRSOURCE: EVENT #1 FAVORITE LUCAS DYNAMIC

Friends... friends don't lie. I'm sorry, too.

[swordsmans]

woah!!! another!! here are some glamor shots of two gift copies completed and ready to be mailed >;3c theyre a bit wonky in some places because im still learning (and there was supposed to be a third copy in this set that died tragically to a structural failure) BUT overall im very happy with how these came out.

the left book is a special bind for @faggotzoro as thanks for writing fanfic of my story, with his fic bound in the back!!!! it has a blue dragon skin marble cover with a silver hand-foiled title, a black cloth/silver hand-foiled spine, black endbands, blue/blue endsheets, a silver katana bookmark made from black woven trim, and hand-sanded, black speckled edges!

the right book is a special bind for @fluffyartbl0g as thanks for their fanart!!! they also asked for feed your plants a little sunlight to be bound in the back... ALONG WITH AN AMAZING UPDATED VERSION OF THE COMIC THAT INSPIRED IT!!!! AAAAA!!!

this bind has a red/gold lokta cover with a rectangular square cut-out in the board and layered white/gold lokta + cardstock over the opening to create a 3-D effect! the endsheets are metallic gold mulberry paper and the bookmark is a white silk ribbon with a 24k gold clasp and a gold painted katana charm. the titles on both the cover and spine were hand-foiled and then painted with gel ink, and the edges were hand-sanded and then speckled with red. oh! and it has white endbands.

the third copy that i ultimately scrapped (literally during the case-in step!! it was almost done!! RIP to those materials...) had thin endsheets that led to a structural failure. to try and prevent that, these books have sewn-in flexible made endpapers to... i'd say 80% success?

overall, im learning a lot--my textblock edges have significantly improved and my cuts are much cleaner. board measurement, however, continues to be the biggest challenge--and i might try a thinner ink for edge-painting. i also think im going to experiment with other titling methods, because hand foiling takes about 2+ hours per title (so with two titles per book, each book takes 4-6 hours depending on how often i have to take breaks, the size of the title, and whether its on the fabric or paper).

i have some ideas for my next two gift copies (which are already sewn... ive been busy), so im hoping the process will go even smoother. in other news, ive started the typeset for ocean theology. taking my current pace into account, i'm hoping to open shop around january 25th.

[ind1c0lite]

Happy pride!!

close ups!!

[pjo-hoo-toa-freakazoid]

A lil rant about my experience with this god forsaken fandom

I made this blog around 2020 when I was 13 years old. This was my first shot at a dedicated fandom blog and I was pretty excited for it, to make friends, draw fanart, post fun stuff and what not.

All fun right? Right, so tell me why was it that literal 20 years olds felt the need to harass me, a then 13 year old girl with a relatively small blog, for the dumbest reasons possible?

What did I do that subjected me to 2 and a half years worth constant daily threats and harassment? Hmm???

You wanna know my crime? Apparently I showed interest in an antagonist character, which is so awful that grown adults felt the need to bully me. And following those adults came young impressionable people my age, that joined the bandwagon of hate against me.

As if other fandoms don’t have people literally dedicating themselves to a villain, no one bats an eye to that. Why did this fandom have such an issue? I also apparently dared to criticise the main character for a few of his flaws. Such a horrible thing to do right? I need to be burnt at the stake for it right?

I didn’t follow the “fixed” standards of the fandom so I was to be sent de*th/r*pe threats daily?? For not following the “rules” I was to be ostracised?

No please someone explain…I’m but a dumb bitch, I don’t understand what I did so terribly wrong to deserve this? Did I start a war? Did I rip open someone’s plush? Did I bully someone for not having the same ideology as me?

No it was but the fandom itself that for some reason found it so fun to bully a 13 year old, send her de*th and r*pe threats all because of not being of pjo fandom standards…let’s go and bombard her with hate!!

Do you realise how fucking stupid…this all sounds? Do you realise how low this is? Was bullying a child so fun? So trendy at the time?

Then came the victim blaming- I laugh everytime I remember people saying I must have done something really bad to get such harassment, that it’s all for attention. What kid wants to get hate everyday of their life for 2 whole fucking years? Tell me?

You know wanna know what I did wrong? Fight back, call the hate anons out for their bigotry. I was vocal about it, that’s what I did wrong right? Stand my ground? People said to ignore it and I did. But I still got bullied daily even if I didn’t respond. What was all this for?

I can imagine people asking why I didn’t simply leave the fandom? Why the fuck should I? I enjoy the stories, I enjoy the characters, they were my escape from real life struggles. It was the bullying I didn’t enjoy. Everyday I’d log on to enjoy posts and a few minutes later when the bigots found out I was active I was sent an anonymous threat.

Many of my oldest friends had to reduce the amount they interacted with me in fear of receiving harassment themselves. The extent of this is bigotry is beyond my understanding.

I did not deserve this much suffering AND ALL FOR WHAT? A STUPID LITTLE REASON THAT HAS BARELY ANY WEIGHT TO IT. Do people even realise the extent of what happened is beyond me. And Idc if I sound selfish, I want a fucking apology from all those bigots. I want compensation for the 2 and a half years of abuse I endured alone. I just want this bigotry to end, which surprise surprise! Still continues to happen.

Why do I bring this up now that it’s all over you ask? I’ve actually brought it up once before, but it was swept under the rug, (My deepest appreciation to the very few people who supported me when I first talked about it) I’m just finally being more vocal, because this has stuck with me. For all those 4 years this has stuck with me. It doesn’t mean if it’s over for now that all the trauma doesn’t linger. It still affects me to this day.

In fact I’m still being stalked by one of the people who sent me hate anons. One of the hate anons was revealed to be one of my bestest friends, they had admitted this to me and had the nerve to beg me to still remain friends. They were also the person who groomed me. They have left the fandom scene and I’ve rid of them from my life but they still continue to stalk me.

What do I get from ranting about all this? A bit of solace, a bit of weight off my shoulders. But nearly not enough for me to actually fucking heal. I also want people to realise how bigoted some are and how horrible the mentality of “fixed fandom standards/ideologies” is and that we as a fandom need to fucking change. Heck I know this issues in every fandom. But can we at least start with ours for a change for once?

Along side all of this there’s also a lot of racism and trans/homophobia that still actively prevails. Just look at what Leah went through when her casting was announced. Did she deserve all of that?? “Not my annabeth” do you realise how horrible that is to say to a CHILD? She is Annabeth whether you like it or not. And you are very welcome to leave if you wish to stick to your stupid racist nonsense.

I bet there are many others who have probably suffered the same may it not be for the same reasons, but everyone of them deserve their apologies and compensation as well.

Idc if I’ll get hate for this. I said what I said. I’m just so done.

[melit0n]

My Roman Empire is all the characters who are never in any of the adaptations of The Phantom Of The Opera (I love you The Persian, Comte Philipe de chagny, Sorelli and little Jammes)

[rottin6]

layla beloved your frat initiation bartylily chasing-in-the-woods concept is something that i think about…. so frequently. haunts me. i don’t even need you write it atp i just need more THOUGHTS 😭

stopppp it i'm giggling at the thought of them 'cause they're so nasty @sommerregenjuniluft is wholly partly to blame

like picture it, frat boy barty daddy issues barty n trust fund barty all in one, like my guy has issues on top of issues. he's made to go to uni by his dad and (idk how frats work i am british) he's in his third and final year of his degree, and he's the president of the frat obviously cause so was his dad and so was his dad and so on

lily, however, loathes him. she thinks the absolute worst of him but she's never even spoken to him. she just hates what he comes from and all that stuff. she's doing a journalism degree and writes for the college paper, like she's on her grind trying to get through uni

one day lily gets some inside scoop that barty's frat is hosting an initiation ritual that apparently happens every night but no one actually knows what goes down so she makes it her mission to get in so she can publish it in the paper and ruin his image and all that jazz

AND THEN she gets there the night of the ritual and barty sees her and he knows who she is cause she hates him that much and and the ritual basically

the existing frat boys are recruiting the new year boys and as part of the initiation they get chased in the woods and the older years wear masks n shit and it’s fucked up in every sense, like they get their chase and it’s perverted and just so…barty if that makes sense

but it’s just an initiation for the boys, no one else at all so lily has to sneak in and she thinks she’s all slick hiding behind trees n stuff but then

barty creeps up behind her, an ache in the pit of his stomach. even in the night, he hates how he can recognise her by her stupid red hair. there’s an animalistic urge to pull on it, to yank her back into him, but instead he snakes his arm around her throat, his bicep pressing on her pulse. his other hand covers her mouth and he can feel the way her body shakes, how it squirms against him, and he tuts, shaking his head.

now obviously lily fights back, she hits her head back into his face and his lip’s bleeding and all but my barty’s huge, like this guy is built so he’s stronger than her and he’s had enough—he tightens his hold on her, pinning her against the tree and he’s pissed as fuck. he’s pressing his body against hers so she can’t move, also holding her by her throat cause he likes the feel of her panicking and how she gulps. he’s grinning like a madman, wiping the blood off his lip with his thumb and he’s all like “you can’t come and not play the game, doll.” and she’s crying, shaking her head and she’s begging him to stop but but

he lifts a leg up, pushing his knee on her stomach and he begins to undo his belt with one hand, the other stroking the side of her face. it’d be romantic in any other situation if not for the fact that lily thinks she’s well and truly going to die. he spits on the ground to the side of them, his thick cock pulsing at the sight of her tears. he relishes in the view, at her lips quivering and the way she still begs him to stop. it’s cute, he thinks.

and then at some other point

“are you—are you getting off on this?” barty snickers, his fingers trailing across the dampness on her panties. he watches the way she closes her eyes tight, her lips parting slightly. “you’re a sick bitch, y’know that, doll? a pretty fuckin whore, coming out here, thinkin’—thinkin’ you can just do what you want, hm?”

but she still struggles against him, trying to fight cause that’s just lily evans but he’s licking his lips, shaking his head and the next thing she knows is he’s taking out a gun from the waistband of his jeans, he’s got it to the bottom of her chin, murmuring, “i really wish you wouldn’t do that,” but she doesn’t care, she tries to wriggle out of his hold and he tightens his grip on her, moving the gun to her forehead, “don’t fuckin move. you move and i’ll fuckin shoot you, okay? you got it?”

“barty, please...” lily pleads with him, as he yanks her by her hair.

“barty, please,” he mocks. “jesus, you're fucking pathetic. you’re lucky that i haven't put a bullet in that pretty fucking skull of yours yet.”

and at some point she’s running again, after kicking him in the groin obviously and he’s chasing after her, he’s in love with the chase, getting so high off it and then he’s tackling her to the ground, mud over the both of them. he’s on top of her, gripping her by both her dimples and pushing her face down into the ground

“i know the shit you say about me, what you write about me in that—in that little paper of yours.” he’s breathing heavily, pulling the zipper down on his jeans as he mounts over her. “i should kill you right now,” he whispers heavily against her ear. “but that's not what you want, is it? you want me to fuck you, right here on the dirty fucking ground, don’t you?” he smiles, demented. and he moves the gun down to her mouth. "just a dirty little whore that wants to get filled with dick, right?"

and then they have hot steamy sex in the middle of the woods 🏌🏽‍♀️

[astarlightmonbebe]

the atypical family is everything so far. they better do the father-daughter relationship justice.

[lovelyheartclover]

GLOBAL STRIKE: DAY 7

CEASEFIRE NOW 🍉🍉🍉

[lucksea]

[gripping my pen] character design.. is my passion.........

[miciiq]

A LITTLE BIT TO THE LEFT PLEASE

Same for this one but good enough

WHY ARE THESE ALWAYS OFF GO RIGHT CAMERA

Rui in his antler era

Its giving Tenma Tsukasa

Rui trying to do a fist bump vs Rin going for a high five

Bonus nene

[byebaicai]

Soooo....I'm distilling my angst into art again so everyone can suffer with meeeeee

But, like, imagine if Crowley found a statue of Aziraphale like Michael's, but it's inside a church? ( ̶M̶a̶y̶b̶e̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶n̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶c̶h̶u̶r̶c̶h̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶g̶o̶t̶ ̶r̶e̶b̶u̶i̶l̶t̶ ̶a̶f̶t̶e̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶B̶l̶i̶t̶z̶) God, the delicious religious trauma 💔

Also very extremely normal about this song being something that he listens to in canon

[applesontheground]

Hey! Ik this is weird and all but can you write about Patrick Bateman cheating on you with a random person and y/n finds out and leave Patrick for Paul Allen and Patrick doesn’t like that so he stalks y/n everyday and then one day kill Paul Allen?

ooh, okay! i really liked this prompt ngl... i hope you enjoy it as much as i did thinking it up lol!!

always coming and you'd never have a clue 💼

NSFW | Word Count: 1,323 | Patrick Bateman x GN Reader

contains canon typical/hints of violence, A LOT OF INFIDELITY, implied stalking+paranoia, phone sex, masturbation, as always patrick bateman comes as his own warning

🎼: x

Calling this a rebound was an understatement, and you realized that the more people you slept with from the same firm, the harder it would be to get out as a whole. Still, you had to move on, and the first step to doing that was to snuff whatever this had become between you and Paul Allen.

Fidelity was not a game many people liked to play. It didn’t take someone who worked within Pierce & Pierce to know that. Across the street, you fiddled with PR disasters that had fallen from grace and came from all directions, stumbling into your hands from those who had no place to be in the public eye. The fact you still found out the inner workings of your neighbors’ social caste was rather funny, almost fitting, but what could you say?

You knew people. You knew them well.

It had started with the affair with VP Patrick Bateman, someone who was anything but what he seemed on a surface level. You wouldn’t think that those profane thoughts – sick desires of his that drowned any normalcy in his mind and alienated him from the world at large – would be his most striking feature. Even now, you hadn’t spoken in two months and his voice still hung in your mind. It was as though he haunted the streets you walked to and from home and the workplace.

Always out of sight, you’d glance over one shoulder and the reflection in the window would startle you. Most mornings, you could still imagine the angle of his jaw, the lifeless brown eyes that made you cringe in a secondhand terror that intrigued you all the same. You’d never say it aloud, but he still brought a strange side out of you. As though you had to keep reigning back into what made you human, reminding yourself of ‘standards’.

Not enough standards to keep from sleeping with Allen, but nonetheless a line that you had to insist on until it was true.

How Paul had known things were on the rocks with Bateman, you weren’t sure. Word got around almost as easy as everyone seemed to cheat on each other, especially when it was part of your job to know others’ business. In the context of your work, you realized a client was in hot water for also being charmed by that well-kept smile, and those pristine features that had strung you out all the same. It was what brought you to hold stifled breath in your throat from one too many cocktails on a Friday evening, an invitation for Allen to stroll up and ask what you were doing letting yourself have a night alone.

It should’ve been the first sign something went sideways when he hadn’t been at work for a few days. There’d be no luck trying to pry the details from his coworkers, seemingly unable to hold a conversation that wasn’t about personal gain or how nice you looked that particular day. You knew the glassy eyes, the ‘He’s just out of town, went on business to London for the week. Did you see what happened with…’

The phone rang at your desk, making you throw your current paper packet down and hover over its cradle for a second with a careful hand. Half-convinced it would be the police wanting to question when you had last seen him, likely hearing you had slept with him just a few nights prior, you picked it up.

“[Y/N] [L/N], PR consultant. How can I-”

“Did you hear that I killed him?”

He didn’t even let the façade rest in the receiver as he spoke to you. The first time in two months. You couldn’t deny that honest twinge that you rarely heard from anyone this side of the block. It wasn’t necessarily afraid, but it trembled to have heard you had actually spoken, and that you were hanging on long enough to stay on the line. You swallowed hard, giving a cautious glance to your closed office door as you asked, “B-Bateman?”

“[Y/N], I couldn’t stand the way he thought he had you around his finger. I knew he didn’t, and I’m positive that you know it too. I showed him what that really meant to get a one-up on me. I fucking murdered him, and I loved every goddamn second of it.”

That terror gripped you right in the stomach, like your muscles pressed it into your spine while you adjusted in your chair. Forgetting the passing coworkers outside, the blinds half-closed so they wouldn’t see anything besides your downcast eyes at your desk, you sucked in a breath and realized this fear was making that muscle within your core also clench together, stimulating that part of you had hidden away.

“...H-How did you do it?” You asked, wedging your shoulder up to hold the phone while your hand traveled underneath the desk. With a sharp breath, he chuckled on the other end. “I knew you’d understand, [Y/N]. You see, I took an axe, made sure it was perfectly set in my hands, and...well, I threw it straight into his back. Simple maneuver, got him right where I wanted.” His trained tone, still between deep breaths in order to keep from going manic and drown in laughter, your nails gently scratched against your thigh. Not yet, he has to take it further.

A stifled cough made your eyes snap ahead again, realizing you weren’t the only one thinking about it. The next exhale was a thoughtful hum, just close enough to recognize it wanted to be a moan. “I thought about you, the way I wish I could rub all that blood over you.” He sighed shakily again, “And you know what, [Y/N]? I know I could make you lose it. More than Allen ever would, anyways.”

“Lose it, hm?” Your voice hit a lower note, one of less lust and more thoughtful fascination. Something you wore so well with him, and he would never admit it but it compelled him to keep going.

“Believe me. I'll show you what a real heathen looks like.” A sharp wince, one you knew came from him holding his cock in a vice less of a disciplined lover and more akin to a meticulous killer, sounded before he then asked, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Bateman, are you touching yourself right now?” You prodded despite knowing too well. You swallowed hard, and brought your voice to a murmur to show your own soft spot, hand clasping your sex and giving it a generous rub, “Because even after being with Allen, he really couldn’t do it like you. You know that, too, so stop a-”

He only responded with another question. “What are you doing after work?” It was almost like he was snapped out of the trance, being caught making the mask of sanity fall back into place in the possibility of vulnerability; his own flaws unable to swallow him if he simply overpowered them. Before you could answer, he insisted, “Meet me at 7PM. At the penthouse, and don’t you dare go out.” He inhaled deeply again, “If you do, I’ll fucking find you. Do you understand me?”

You asked yourself if this was really about to happen. This was his peak of what you knew of him: he only asked questions to create an illusion to you, make you feel like you had a choice. “Sure thing, Bateman.” You replied, and you heard him hang up before the last syllable of his name left your mouth.

It was enough to get you to take your coat and stand from your desk, and then flex your thigh muscles to hide the way your legs were shaking from the force. Teasing yourself only made your will weak, your ability to rationalize slip. 

When you caught the glimpse of yourself in the window again, you almost imagined another face looking back at you.

[revasserium]

118 with daichi? ::

reqs are open :)

118. the power of goodbye

daichi; 2,349 words; teeth-rotting fluff u__u 4 times you say goodbye, and 1 time you say hello instead "what was it like to lose him? asked sorrow. there was a long pause before i responded: it was like hearing every goodbye ever said to me -- said all at once" -- lang leav, love and misadventure

01. “bye! see you next week!”

you’re waving at him, standing on your tiptoes, your other hand caught in your mother’s palm as daichi waves back just as furiously. you are both seven years old and somehow, both your mothers had thought to sign you up for after school art lessons.

“see you!” daichi sighs as he turns back to peer up at his mom, frowning slightly, “mom… i don’t think i’m very good at drawing…”

“ah? but dai-chan, i thought you liked coming to art classes? you’re always so excited!”

daichi furrows his brows as he and his mom start on their slow trek home, up two blocks, turning right onto the main street where daichi knows he’ll pass by the convenience store he likes with the iced milk pops.

“i… i like coming here cause i like my friends! but…” he kicks at the ground, a half-crumpled picture clutched in his other hand. his mother laughs lightly, taking the picture and smoothing it out with her hands.

“mah… as long as you’re having a good time, i think that’s all that matters.”

daichi pouts, pressing his lips, because yes… he supposes having fun is… well, fun, but being good at something is fun too!

he thinks about how your eyes glitter whenever the teacher hands out a fresh, new piece of paper, how eager you are to grab at the crayons and markers, how your tongue gets stuck between your teeth when you’re scribbling color across a page, like you could take the whole world and put right there on the shiny, white surface. sometimes, he thinks you can.

he wonders if he’ll ever find something that makes him feel like that.

“do you still want to come back next week then?

daichi starts, looking up at his mom with wide eyes.

“of course i do! i wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

02. “so… practice, right?” you ask, your hands laced behind your back as daichi shrugs, laughing, scratching at the back of his neck.

“yeah… but i’ll see you after your traditional arts club right?” he pauses at the end of the hallway that leads towards the volleyball gym. you teeter on the balls of your feet, your hair in twin pigtails near the nape of your neck. once, daichi had felt the urge to tug on them constantly, back when the pair of you were still in elementary school, but now that he’s in middle school, he’s decided that it’s high time at like the grown up that he is.

so he settles for a shy smile as you nod and wave at him, jogging off back towards the school’s main building.

“see you!” you shout, even as you disappear from around a corner and he’s left with his hand aloft, blinking after you.

“sawamura? what’re you staring at?” ikejiri blinks as he peers around the doors to the gym.

“oh! nothing — coming!” daichi blushes as he hurries to join ikejiri, casting one last look over his shoulder at the place where you’d been standing.

03. the summer sun blows itself out over the flat of the horizon, the july air sticky with humidity and the lingering taste of possibilities.

“so… where are you going next year?”

you turn your head to look at him, your hair done up in two neat plaits, the ends pinned to the sides of your head so as to keep them from tickling your neck. he tugs lightly on one of the loops; you let your head lilt to one side, offering no resistance as he pulls his hand back.

daichi casts his eyes up at the dying light of a fading sky and grins.

“karasuno! remember when we saw them on tv the other day?”

“oh yeah! they’re the team that went to nationals in tokyo, right?”

“yep! and… i wanna go there one day!”

daichi catches himself, feeling a blush work its way into his cheeks as he looks back down at his hands, resting over the worn old volleyball in his lap.

“don’t worry, you will.”

your voice is a splash of cold water, and he finds himself shivering. he looks up to meet your eyes, and he almost doesn’t want to ask. he doesn’t want to know —

“so… where are you going?”

you purse your lips.

“mom said her job’s moving her to tokyo so…” you shrug, “probably somewhere there…”

and then, painfully, startlingly, you laugh.

daichi’s head jerks up at the sound.

“but when you make it to nationals, then… you’ll be there too!”

he blinks at the smile on your face, too bright for the darkness of the oncoming night.

“r-right! so, i’ll see you then!”

he lets out a laugh too, though it sounds a bit too loud, a bit too forced. you smile nodding.

“i’ll see you then.”

it takes daichi half the walk home to realize that you hadn’t said “if” but “when”.

04. [daichi]: dont stay up too late studying! college entrance exams aren’t till next year!!

[you]: easy for u to say (¬_¬)… u’ll just get a sports scholarship or something…

[daichi]:… p sure im not but okay

[you]: p sure national-leveled athletes get scholarships bUt oKaY

[daichi]: p sure we haven’t made it to nationals yet

[daichi]: go to sleep.

[you]: no, u („• ֊ •„)

[you]: did u fall asleep

[daichi]: (－_－) zzZ

[you]: okies gnight! (─‿‿─)♡

daichi stares at the heart at the end of your message for way too long and tries not to read too much into it.

he stays up all night reading into it anyway.

05. “so… she’s gonna be here. at nationals. to watch you.”

“yes suga. that’s what i said.”

“okay but i wanna make sure you know what you said because from what you said, it sounds like she’s super into you and you’re just refusing to —”

“it’s not like that! w-we’re just old friends —!”

“ah… i know it might not be my place to say this but… it does sound like she might be interested…”

“ha! see? even asahi says so!”

“wha — when did this become a group discussion?!”

“huh? what are you guys talkin’ bout over here? is it that girl daichi-san’s always texting?”

“nishinoya! don’t say that so loudly! and — i’m not always texting her —”

“wait!!! are we finally meeting daichi-san’s mystery girlfriend?”

“tanaka! shut up! and she’s not —”

“daichi?”

daichi freezes and the next moment, several things happen all at once — suga gasps, tanaka stops dead in his tracks, asahi nearly bowls him over, and nishinoya smacks straight into asahi’s back, sending all of them toppling forward like a series of badly placed dominos and it’s all daichi can do to sidestep the mess before they drag him down as well.

but there you are, standing feet from him, watching all this unfold with that same amused smile on your face, with the same bright, sharp eyes he’d always remembered, and god — you look so similar and yet so… so different.

two and a half years has never looked so good, he thinks, as he swallows hard and tries to find something to say.

finally, he settles on, “h-hey! long… long time…”

you laugh, and it’s all he can do not to melt into the sound. because that — that hasn’t changed one bit — the sound still warm and sweet as a spring morning. it shakes through him, breaks him open like the sun over a cracking dawn — he takes a deep, steadying breath.

“yeah, no kidding! but…” you trail off as you take a few steps closer, your eyes flickering over his face, lingering on the broadness of his shoulders, the straightness of his spine, “kinda feels like no time’s passed at all, hm?”

daichi can’t help it — he blushes, clearing his throat as he averts his eyes.

behind him, suga is muttering something and he hears the distinct sounds of the rest of the team being shooed away and for once, he’s thankful that suga pulls his weight as vice captain when it really, really matters.

“i mean, two years is a long time,” he says, feeling suddenly too young and too old all at once, his stomach roiling inside him. he thought he’d have mastered nerves by now; he’s faced down mountains that no one had ever thought they’d summit but somehow… this… this is different.

“it is… you look good,” you say, grinning as you take another few steps forward, as if testing the waters, pushing the line of demarcation closer, and then ever closer. he doesn’t step back though it takes almost everything inside him to hold his ground.

“wow, you’re taller,” you laugh, looking up at him, now close enough for him to touch — reaching out a palm from the top of your head to just below his chin, “much taller…”

your voice is softer, then, like a sigh, a whisper, an admission of sorts. and it’s only then that daichi notices he’s not the only one blushing.

he coughs, swallows, flexes his fingers and forces himself to speak.

“y-you look different too — i mean, good different! you’re… uh — your hair is — longer and —”

daichi fights down the urge to curse, to turn around and run, to lay down on the ground right then and there and pray for the earth to carve itself open so he can fall into it’s dark, unending depths —

you blink, a slow, teasing smile spreading across your lips and daichi finds himself caught, as a thread on a chain-link fence, he looks at you and laughs, helpless, shaking his head.

“sorry… it’s just…” he casts about for words he isn’t quite sure he has. you shake your head, grinning.

“no, it’s fine — i know… it’s a little weird, isn’t it? i mean, two years is a really long time.”

“yeah but… like you said, somehow, it doesn’t really feel like… any time’s passed at all.”

daichi finds his hand reaching up before he can stop himself, almost like second nature, his fingers grazing the ends of your hair, now skimming halfway down your chest, twisted in a loose braid over one of your shoulders.

“it really did get longer but i cut it recently — you should’ve seen it before —” you laugh, looking down at where his fingers are still outstretched, reaching up your own hand to tug at the freshly trimmed ends.

“so… do you uhm — you still do art, right?” daichi asks, tucking both his hands into his pockets.

“yeah! and… you finally made it to nationals. congrats!” you wave an arm around the pair of you, and for a second, daichi had almost forgotten where the two of you were, standing in the bustling entrance hall of one of tokyo’s largest gymnasiums, all bright lights and excited voices.

“yeah — i guess i finally did… took us a while, but… we made it.”

you smile.

“i knew you would.”

daichi chuckles, letting his shoulder shrug up as all the awkwardness falls away between the pair of you, the years falling away day by day, month by month, until it’s just him and you and an entire future of the bright unknown, laid out at your feet.

“yeah, you never did doubt us… even when i did.”

you open your mouth, but someone’s voice cuts through the fray.

“daichi! we gotta go warm up!”

daichi jumps as suga waves at him from down the entire hall, looking both apologetic and exasperated.

“ah — sorry —” daichi turns back to you, his heart halfway to his throat as you nod, the pair of you suddenly tossed back into the present, like a movie caught in fast forward, the frames scrambling to catch up to the here and now.

“no! no — it’s okay! go! i’ll —”

“i’ll text you — see you after, okay? i mean, i don’t know how long — or if you had plans —”

“i don’t! text me — i’ll be here —”

“okay! good! that’s… that’s good!”

“daichi! c’mon, seriously!”

“sorry suga! i’ll be right there —” daichi turns back to you, caught between a frenetic panic and excitement, “i’ll… see you later, yeah?”

you nod, a blush high on your cheeks, nodding, “yeah! good luck! i’ll be watching.”

daichi opens his mouth, wonders if he should say something else, but suga is yelling for him again, and then there’s something warm pressed to his cheek. before he can think, you’re pulling away, your lashes dark and fluttering, your breath hot against his skin.

and then, you’re pressing a hand to his chest, pushing him into motion.

“for… for good luck. now, go!”

“y-yeah — uh — bye!”

you laugh, waving, pressing your lips together as you watch him stumbling rather blankly towards where the rest of his team is waiting for him.

“see you later!”

daichi raises a hand to the place on his cheek where your lips had been, feeling as if you’d smacked him across the face, in all the best of ways.

he looks stares down at his hand, and then back up at you, standing there, still waving.

“don’t — don’t go anywhere, okay?”

you laugh, nodding, now shooing him off proper as he reaches his team and suga starts to drag him bodily from the hall. daichi can’t help looking over his shoulder one more time before you disappear into the crowd, but he finds you immediately, standing on tip-toe, waving furiously at him.

“i won’t! i’ll be right here!"