#if it's out of character choose to look away man idk what to tell you

[ghost-proofbaby]

She knows him. She doesn’t know how or why. But she swears it on her life, she knows this pale elf.  She can’t explain the echoing hollow ache that rings out at the up-close sight of him any other way. She knows him, knew him, and had somehow lost him.

summary: aruna meets gale. aruna meets shadowheart. but, somehow, none it matters - they're not astarion, and she's beginning to think this astarion doesn't exist.

wc: 5.3k+

warnings: continued memory loss, more canon violence/gore. a lot of gameplay recount. spoilers for the game below (act 1, ravaged beach).

a/n: anyone else fail that perception check when meeting astarion? just me? that's cool. i can't even be mad when a pretty boy holds a knife to my throat. also, if some of this isn't 100% game accurate/lore accurate, do not come for me. we're here for a good time! not an accurate time!

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Aruna and Astarion. Astarion and Aruna. Aruna – Astarion. 

She echoes the two names in her mind an impossible amount of times. The one name, her name, clicks right into place for her. It makes sense. Her name is Aruna, there’s not a single doubt within her regarding that. And even if there had been, she’s already laid claim to it – she’s already introduced herself to the two strangers she’d managed to stumble upon on the beach as such. 

Shadowheart and Gale. Kind souls, a bit guarded but fair given the circumstances. They share a common affliction, one that Aruna hadn’t even noticed in the daze of her awakening on the beach – a worm in their heads. Literally. 

And she should be pondering more about how odd that is, all the squirming in her brain that she can feel, the way that she managed to connect telepathically with both of these strangers upon running into them, but she isn’t. 

Because, apparently, according to this mysterious letter addressed to her, she’s supposed to save Astarion. And neither of them are Astarion. 

Who the hell is Astarion? 

Maybe it could be one of her new companions; either of them could have lied regarding their name easily. But she had seen into their minds, and they had proven trustworthy so far. Hell, Gale was even offering to cook some sort of dinner for all of them in their current makeshift campsite they had chosen. A clearing in the edge of the woods, not too far from the beach, but certainly not wandering any further than necessary into the unfamiliar grounds they’ve found themselves crashed onto. They’d snagged some bedrolls out of random chests discarded by the crash (they had all doubted the previous owners were even still alive), made a makeshift fire pit in the center of the clearing, and declared it home – for now. 

It didn’t feel like home. Felt the furthest from home Aruna could have possibly been, and she didn’t even remember where her home was. Or if she had one before all of this. 

“What have you got there?” Gale asks casually from where he stands over the dinner he was scrounging together, pulling Aruna away from all her stubborn thoughts.

They had turned one of the fallen trees into a bench of sorts. Waist level and the perfect place for him to carefully cut up mushrooms they had found along their way with a stolen knife they’d secured. It was the beginnings of a home, gut feelings aside. 

“Hm?” Aruna hums, looking up from her palm, closing it on instinct, “What?” 

Gale stops all movement, eyes narrowing in her further at her closed fist, “The stone you’re holding. Did you find it during our travels?” 

Ah. The stone. One of two items she had found in the mysterious pouch on her body. She’d been mindlessly flipping it between her hands, fingers sliding over the smooth surface as she had studied it. Her investigation had proven half useful when she’d realized there was a carving on the flattest surface of the stone – a  crescent moon, just like one of her daggers. 

She could be honest. But for some reason, she feels protective over the stone. Especially after noticing that carving, “Oh, yeah. Saw it on the side of the road and it looked pretty unique. I’ll probably toss it away when we start back up on the road tomorrow.” 

Like Hells will I be letting it out of my sight. 

She doesn’t know much, frustratingly so, but she knows that this unusual stone is not the kind you would stumble upon on the road. Gale clearly knows as much as well, looking entirely unconvinced as they suddenly stare each other down in silence. 

He’s giving her an opportunity to be honest. As if she owes him the truth. 

“It’d be a shame to get rid of such an… unique stone.”

It would be. And he clearly believes it’s far more than a stone. But it only makes her fingers curl far more tightly around the opal, feeling the rough edge of the moon pressing into her skin. 

“Maybe I’ll sell it,” she shrugs, trying to put up an act of indifference, “It looks pretty enough to earn a decent amount of gold, right?” 

As if to prove her point, to further sell this careless act, she lets her hand fall back open. The moon carving is safe against her palm and out of sight, and the stone glimmers in the moonlight. 

“Looks like it would be worth more than just a bit of gold,” Gale says, taking a few steps closer to get a better look. On instinct, Aruna nearly bristles. “That- Are you aware of what that is-”

“Is dinner done?” Shadowheart interrupts with perfect timing. Her distraction lets Aruna quickly move to shove the stone away back into her pouch, having no interest in some sort of lecture from Gale. 

She doesn’t know what it is. But it’s hers, and his hungry eyes on the small artifact are enough to tell her to keep it far away from him. 

“Pardon me?” Gale blinks a few times, taking longer than a normal person might to register Shadowheart’s questions. He’s still focused on Aruna’s hand that now rests emptily against her lap. “Oh! Oh, no. Not quite. Sorry, my hungry friends. Just a few more minutes. It won’t be much but, it’ll be something. Excellent fuel to continue our search for a healer tomorrow, I assure you.”

Shadowheart says something more as she takes a seat on another makeshift bench they’d set up, and Gale responds with ease this time, but Aruna has tuned them both out. 

He’s probably right. Tomorrow, they need to find a healer. She needs to worry more about the worm in her head. She needs to reassess her priorities.

But it’s awfully hard when not only that stone, but that letter burns a hole in her pack, and she’s dreadfully aware that as kind and oddly trusting these people have been given their current situation, neither of them are Astarion.

And the letter said to save Astarion. Not Shadowheart, not Gale, not even herself. But Astarion. 

—

“So, what were your lives like before this entire mess and impending doom of ceremorphosis?”

Gale is a chatty traveling companion. Aruna learns this quickly when they wake the next morning and gather their packs, and she’d even had half the mind to begin a map of sorts so she can mark their camp and the surrounding areas they’ve already explored on it. All her sketches, trees and scribbles to depict the Nautiloid crash, are abysmal at best. But it’s something. If they can just be smart, if they can just be aware of their surroundings, they might be able to continue to call their perfect clearing home. 

Besides, none of them really wanted to continue to carry every single thing they had gathered thus far in their packs. 

Whatever they left surely is at risk of being found by others wandering, and they could be robbed blind of any supplies left behind, but Aruna is just glad for the lack of an ache in her back as she adjusts her pack. 

Shadowheart nearly trips over her steps, as if not expecting the question and clearly panicking over what to say, but Aruna decides to speak up first.

“I can’t remember,” she says plainly, monotonous as she continues to confidently stride forward. They’re nearly back to the main path they had discovered, and something is tugging her back in the direction of that damned beach. 

Shadowheart trips again, and this time, Aruna truly can’t tell if it’s due to shock or simply not watching where she was going in her effort to keep up. 

“What?” Gale chuckles under his breath, as though Aruna’s told a joke. He’s keeping pace with her fairly impressively, “I know this entire journey thus far has been fairly startling, but a symptom of ceremorphosis is not memory loss. Surely, you remember at least where you’re from.” 

“I don’t,” Aruna finally slows, letting Shadowheart fall into place on her right as she faces Gale, “I… I have no memories from before the ship. I must have just hit my head exceptionally hard, or maybe that worm is digging around in places in my brain that it isn’t in yours.” 

It’s a bold show of trust. She should feel more resistance towards laying out her troublesome internal quarrel so plainly to Gale, but she doesn’t. It’s almost as easy as fiddling with her daggers by the campfire, or mindlessly flipping around that stone in her pack. 

She should trust him, shouldn’t she?

Yes, something screams inside of her. The thing she felt locked up inside of her finally finds its voice, it seems, as it calls to her, you should trust him. Trust him with all that you have. 

The issue, of course, is that Aruna doesn’t have much. Material-wise nor of internal self. 

She has daggers. She has a pretty stone. She has a tarnished ring. She has a name. She has instructions to save Astarion, whoever that elusive bastard may be.

She doesn’t have much to offer. To trust with. 

“How very interesting,” Gale murmurs as he looks at her with nothing but unbridled curiosity, “Well, as I said, it’s not a symptom of ceremorphosis. As far as I’ve read, at least.”

Aruna eyes him wearily, instinct to trust be damned, “Yes, you seem to do a lot of that.” 

He throws his head back in a laugh and- why does it pull on her heartstrings like something of recognition? Why does something about this very moment all feel so familiar? 

The deja vu nearly makes Aruna sick, Gale completely unaware as he says, “Reading? Why, yes, I do. A hungry mind is crucial to surviving this world, I’ve found.” 

Why is his laughter so familiar? Why does it spark a flicker of warmth in her chest, as though he’s some old friend she’s shared endless laughs with while gathered around a fire? 

It terrifies her. 

It was different, inanimate objects holding that flame of warmth and unlocking pieces of her. Daggers carved with nighttime symbols and a stone to match don’t scare Aruna; real people that she might have real history with do. 

“I’m sure your hungry mind is very happy, then, having been fed a worm worthy of a feast,” she tries to say it snappily, but it still all comes out a bit flat. 

And Gale only laughs more – Gods, she wishes he would stop, so that the waves of a memory she can’t catch will finally recede – and it’s clear he’s not affected by her defenses. 

He finally tilts his eyes back forward, trained on her, a ghost of a smile still lingering, “Ah, well, not quite. I prefer feasts of words, of knowled-”

“You know what else is crucial to surviving this world?” Shadowheart interrupts, shifting her weight from one foot to the other in a clear sign of her losing patience, “Finding a healer, and getting rid of the worm. Shall we carry on?” 

Aruna shares a final glance with Gale, and can’t help but also find the corners of her mouth twitching up, a mirror to his own. For the first time in several days, it almost feels as though she might have a friend. The exact opposite result of what she had intended by trying to be particularly sharp and even a bit sarcastic, but she doesn’t fight it. 

Instead, she nods to Shadowheart, and Gale motions for her to take the front as he bows, “Lead on, as you were.” 

Gale is not Astarion. She has no instructions to save him. And yet, she can’t help but feel her defenses are too weak, given the way he’s beginning to crack them with so few prods. Maybe his inquiry regarding her stone had been in genuine curiosity, a hungry mind as he had put it. Maybe he’s just trying to be friendly. Maybe he has good intentions after all. 

Maybe she does know him, and maybe her letter had just forgotten to add another crucial reminder.

Maybe she’ll add it when she gets back to camp. 

She can see it now, as if the words have already been solidified by pen to paper: P.S.S DO NOT FORGET TO FIND A FRIEND IN GALE. 

—

Shadowheart is far from amused when Aruna leads them back to the beach. Yet, to be fair, it’s hers and Gale’s fault for following her so blindly.

She knows there’s no healer on the beach. But something is calling her back to it. 

“The-” Shadowheart starts the moment the sand comes back into view. Trailings of sand mingle with the dirt below their feet, “We’re back on the beach? Haven’t we already established that there’s no healer on this ravished thing?” 

“Good name for it,” Aruna whispers more for herself than her companions, considering adding that to her map when they retire for the night. She turns to face Shadowheart and forces a smile. A kind, disarming type of look in hopes that the girl will just trust her, “Call it a gut feeling. I just feel like we missed something here.” 

“A gut feeling? We’ve already looted all the corpses. What more could there possibly be?”

“We only checked one side of the beach.”

“Yes, because to get to the other side, we’ll have to go through the damn crash rubble. Filled with those- those brain things.” 

“There’s three of us. I have faith.”

“I-”

Gale’s head turns back and forth, bouncing between the arguing girls. He seems perfectly content to add any commentary, almost at ease with the current argument, until Aruna’s hand moves to her hip.

Aruna is quick to pull a dagger from one of her sheaths. Immediately, all relaxed state of being drains from Gale, him paling and stepping forward to finally insert himself between them, “Woah, now! I don’t think there’s any need to-”

“I’m not going to stab her, Gale,” Aruna huffs. Shadowheart doesn’t look very convinced as Aruna focuses on her once more, dagger still hovering up in their line of sight, “I was trying to make a point – we have weapons. Gale has magic. And you’ve said you’re a cleric, which means you can heal. I doubt those ‘brain things’ – devourers, by the way, is the correct term – will even lay a claw on us between all our varying skill sets. If you don’t want to go to the other side of the beach, then don’t. I can’t force you. But you’ve both put your faith in me this far, what harm can a little more do?” 

The speech works. She doesn’t expect it to. She expects them to laugh at her, or walk away from her, or for Shadowheart to even start a proper fight. 

They don’t. 

They follow her right into danger, no hesitation. The wizard she’d saved from a portal in some cliff-side rock and the cleric she’d awoken on the beach when she’d stumbled upon her, faithful to her to a damaging fault. Even when the intellect devourers do attack, just as Shadowheart had worried they would, neither utter a single word so much as sounding like the well-deserved ‘I told you so’. 

They just use their skill sets. The very ones Aruna had pointed out. Her daggers, Shadowheart’s cleric artillery, Gale’s infallible spells – they use them for all they’re worth, until each of those brains are unrecognizable on the ground. 

And best (or possibly worst) of all, Aruna discovers something new about herself.

Her magic. 

She hadn’t even been sure if she held any useful skills beyond being decently good with her daggers thus far, but as one of those brains had trampled towards her, she had felt it. A warm hum beneath her skin, erratic and wild as can be, begging for release. 

Release it, she did. The final brain falls from the power of the fire bolt that flies from her fingertips, not even leaving her so much as marked. 

Gale notices immediately, Shadowheart still scoping out the area for any more enemies. 

“A fellow magic wielder, it seems,” he grins, motioning vaguely to her hands, “Now, if only we knew what kind.” 

What kind? 

“If you have no memory of your life before the ship, I’m correct to assume you aren’t very knowledgeable in the boundaries of your magic, yes?” She hadn’t even realized she had said the thought out loud until Gale is in front of her, still rambling, a light of intrigue in his eyes, “There’s wizards such as yours truly,” he pauses, and motions over himself in flourish, “As well as warlocks. Those, however, usually answer to a patron. So unless you’ve had any strange callings to any great deities over the last few nights… well, it’s off the table, I suppose.” 

“I haven’t,” she croaks, still looking down at her fingertips in shock. Magic. She still feels it now. Probably could have felt it this entire time, had she not been so distracted by the tadpole, the headaches, the memory loss. It’s fluid and tangible, something bursting through her veins for her taking, “I- What would that even feel like?”

“You’d know,” Gale says most assuredly, “Trust me. Besides, your patron probably would have already found you by now.”

“So, I’m a wizard?” 

Gale is quick to shake his head as Shadowheart walks back over to them, “Not necessarily. It’s certainly an option, and would make you a magic wielder who learned their knowledge of the Weave through studies. But there’s also other possibilities – sorcerers, paladins, clerics. They all have the ability to wield some magic. Druids, too, although theirs are usually more of the healing nature. And, well… the nature variety in general.” 

All words that make little sense to Aruna. She gives it a moment, waits to see if her muddled brain might catch up and offer her a little help in understanding, but it’s all in vain. 

“I should know these things,” she whispers, so quietly that both Gale and Shadowheart have to lean in to hear her small tone. It’s the first time she’s openly shown such emotion with them – something like devastation, laced with frustration. The inability to remember, to know, as they do. “Even if my memories of my life before this evade me, I should know these things.” 

Shadowheart speaks up in a tone unlike any other she had used on their journey, “They might still return to you yet, or there might be a greater reason for it all. Don’t give up hope.”

“And if they don’t return to you,” Gale interjects, the air of casualty returning to him as he gives a lopsided grin, “Well, I can always teach you about it all. I have books back at camp.” 

“You have books?” Out of all the things just said, it was probably the most odd for Aruna to latch onto, but she still looks at him befuddled, “Where in the Hells did you just get… books on all this? Did you loot them off of-”

“Bag of holding,” he answers as though it was obvious. 

Great. Awesome. A bag of holding. Because Aruna totally knew what that was. 

“Let’s just keep moving,” she moves on, letting it go. Maybe she’ll take him up on his offer, maybe she won’t. If anything else, she’ll just inquire more about whatever the Hells a bag of holding is later on, back at camp, “I can see the other side of the beach over there.” 

It’s Shadowheart and Gale’s turn to exchange a look, and slowly but surely, it’s feeling as though more than just the tadpoles in their mind are connecting them. Threads are being spun, small connections that are painfully mundane yet easily connecting these three strangers. They could all be friends, if they really wanted to. It might even make their survival a little bit easier. It might make their travels a little lighter.

Aruna can worry about friendship once she’s found Astarion, though. The faceless stranger mentioned in passing on a letter, the one person she’s been tasked with saving.

She doesn’t even know who he, or she, or they are. This mysterious name – it really means nothing to her. All she has to reasonably cling to it is that ridiculous letter. If she were to confide in her two companions about it, she’d probably get an earful, and truly be abandoned. They wanted to seek out a cure to the imminent danger within their heads, and she was sending them on a wild goose chase for Astarion. 

Does this Astarion even have a tadpole as well? Is that how she’s meant to save them? And if they don’t, does that mean that they’ll help her with her issue first, and then she saves them? 

Does she have to save them in order to rid herself of the tadpole? 

It’s all giving her a headache by the time their group of three is slowly walking up the slope of the sliver of beach they’ve discovered, taking small yet sturdy steps along the side of the crashed ship. Gale, thankfully, has stopped his nervous rambling (because, Aruna realized, that’s what it was. His nerves, controlling his tongue endlessly, trying to fill the dreadful silence for even the smallest bit of comfort. It almost makes her feel bad for being grateful for the quiet).

She must have been thinking about her questions hard enough for some mysterious power out in the Universe to hear her, however. Because they’d hardly been walking for a few minutes, she’d hardly been left to all her confusion and cursing of the damn name for such little time, when she sees him. 

Him. Decent height, pure white hair, pale skin that is nearly blinding in the harsh sunlight. 

Him. With eyes so red, she can see them from this distance. They almost match the shades of crimson that haunt her nightmares. 

Him. Who is currently, pathetically, calling out for help. 

“What the-” Shadowheart begins. And Aruna doesn’t notice it, but she starts to reach out to grab the elf by her elbow before she’s beginning to dart up the hill, falling right into the trap. 

Both of her companions, Shadowheart in her guarded glory and Gale in his perpetual state of anxiety, can’t even stop her. Neither dare to breathe out a word as she approaches the pale elf, but she can feel their disapproval as she comes up beside him. 

“You,” he breathes out, half crouched, eyes darting towards the bushes, “Hurry. I’ve got one of those brain things cornered,” he turns and points towards the bushes, assuming where the said brain thing has been lured, “There, in the grass. You can kill it, can’t you? Like you killed the others.” 

She should have been smarter. She should have been more perceptive. She should have heard Gale’s deep breath as he prepared to warn her against getting any closer. 

But she wasn’t. 

She’s a damned fool, a lamb to the slaughter, as she nods and whispers out an immediate, “Of course.” 

There’s no brain thing that has been cornered. The only thing that has been lured is Aruna; one moment, she’s leaning in to get a closer look into the bushes, and the next, a wild boar is skittering out. 

That’s not what catches her off guard.

The blade to her throat is what does it. Quickly, with unsettling ease, before she feels the elf’s arms wrapping around her and bringing them both down to the ground. 

Oh, fuck me. 

He has her trapped. She knows it, he knows it, and both her companions know it. She was an idiot and got exactly what was coming for her. 

All her survival instincts kick in immediately, causing her to trash in his arms, a painful whine coming out as she can feel the cold metal digging deeper into the delicate skin of her neck. 

And all the pale elf does is shush her gently, “Sh, sh, sh, sh. Not a sound. Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.” 

His words do little to deter her. He starts to argue with her companions who have finally come to their senses, keeping a safe distance all while spilling out carefully calculated threats to the stranger, but she can’t hear them over the blood rushing in her ears. One hand feebly grabs onto his that is wrapped around the hilt of the dagger, the other reaching for his elbow. She tries to tug the weapon away from her, but he’s strong. It’s a fruitless battle. 

Aruna swears she hears Shadowheart insist she needs her alive. Gale saying something regarding the way he’ll make the elf regret it if he brings Aruna any harm. She can’t be sure. 

The longer his steady grip on her shoulder lingers, the more familiar it begins to become. His leg, trapping both of hers so that she can’t kick out of his grasp, is also familiar. Familiar, familiar, familiar. 

His lips are moving as he stares up at her companions, but it’s only once his eyes narrow back on Aruna that her heart slows and she can hear him properly once more. 

“Now,” he nearly purrs, voice low, dangerous, “I saw you on the ship, didn’t I?” 

She presses her lips together tightly, still trying to maintain her struggle to get out of his grasp. Her teeth grit from the effort, arms shaking violently. 

“Nod,” he commands, nearly condescendingly, and synapses fire off in the darkest corners of her brain. 

I know that voice. 

She almost feels as though she has no control over her body as her head nods on instinct, blade dropping from her neck to her chest now. 

“Splendid. And now, you’re going to tell me what you and those tentacled freaks did to me.” 

I know that voice. 

The same thing deep within her chest that had unfurled at the sight of Gale’s laughter, that had called her to the beach, that had lit up with recognition at the sight of her daggers – it’s wide awake now. Staring through her eyes at his own rubies, tracing every outline of every wrinkle, every curve, every imperfection. She knows his voice. She knows him. 

It weeps at the sight of him, and she has no idea why. The same strings that clench when she reads over her letter, when she let her eyes trace over the words ‘My dearest Aruna’ and the heavily underlined name of Astarion, are now pulled taut. 

She knows him. She doesn’t know how or why. But she swears it on her life, she knows this pale elf. 

She can’t explain the echoing hollow ache that rings out at the up-close sight of him any other way. She knows him, knew him, and had somehow lost him.

Her lack of an answer clearly irritates him, but he’s cut off by whatever quip he had perched on his tongue by the sudden connection. She doesn’t understand it, whether it be due to the new rolling thunder of the most intense deja vu she’s experienced yet or if it were a simple side effect of the tadpole, but each connection via the tadpole has become more painful. More intense. 

She’d first noticed the difference between it happening with Shadowheart versus Gale. 

And now, she notices it an impossible amount with this stranger. 

It’s nauseating as their minds connect, sharp and quick as if their two brains had been laying in wait for this very moment. It feels as though it goes beyond the tadpoles, beyond their shared affliction and terrible predicament. 

She sees bustling taverns and lively night streets, yes, but there’s something more there. Something missing. She’d felt it with Gale as well, an emptiness neither of them could seemingly unlock. But with this one, it’s far more intense than it had been previously. Like gaping wounds being presented to her, interspersed with the exchange of both his memories and… well, the lack of hers beyond the Nautiloid ship, she sees gaps. Spaces to be filled. Questions to be answered. 

I know that voice, the thing in her whimpers, I know this man. 

She doesn’t even care to hold onto the memory. She lets it slip away, wishing the pain would, too. 

But it lingers. 

Not just for her, but for him as well. His grip entirely loosens on her as he winces, a soft gasp falling from his lips as he begins to question, “What was that-”

She doesn’t care to listen to his question. In an instant, she’s pulled away, rolling out of his reach before standing steady on both feet. The pain leftover from the connection fuels her as she holds a hand out, and her magic thrums steadily with her heart as electricity crackles in the palm. 

Neither Gale nor Shadowheart make a single move as she holds out that palm, watching the elf’s every moment as he also rises to meet her. But he’s no longer hostile, hand holding his dagger now limp as he lets it rest at his side. 

“You’re… not one of them,” he says slowly, shame briefly flickering over his features before being replaced with something more despairing, “They took you. Just the same as me.” 

Her fingers shake in front of her as blue bolts continue to flicker amongst them, forming spasming webs between her knuckles. She could obliterate him, if she wanted. Right here, right now, she finally has the upper-hand. 

But she doesn’t. And in her hesitation, she can see him still reeling just as she was from their connection. She swears she can hear the pounding in his head syncing to hers, perfectly in time with one another.

The thing inside her claims to know him, but she doesn’t even know his name. 

I know him. Don’t hurt him. 

She sort of hates that internal dialogue. That true monster inside of her that had been the reason she hadn’t hesitated in her running to his rescue. It was the reason that she’d ended up with a knife against her throat, and she’s praying it’s not the reason for her death as she listens and closes her hand into a soft fist, releasing the hold on her magic momentarily. 

He watches her do it. His face relaxes, a charming smile gracing it now instead. 

“And to think, I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. My sincerest apologies.” 

She highly doubts just how sincere that apology is, but she’s unphased all the same. 

“Apology accepted,” she sighs, swiping her palm on the side of her now dirty pants. Somewhere beneath the dust she’s now covered in, there’s blood from the intellect devourers, but that’s a problem for tonight. Not now, “I would have done the same thing.”

No, I wouldn’t have. From the very first moment I saw you, all I wanted to do was help. Every instinct in me screamed to help you. 

She’s lying, but she really doesn’t care that she’s lying. He has a tadpole. He can join them. She doesn’t care.

Back in the forefront of her mind, even ahead of the damned tadpole and the need for a healer, the need to keep them all alive, her brain is back to whispering of this Astarion. The quicker she carries out this predictable conversation, the quicker they can get back on the road. And the quicker she can find whoever Astarion is-

“I’m out of wine and flowers, so I hope an introduction will suffice,” his blood-red eyes meet hers, and something in her gut twists. As if she already knows. As if she’s just realized that she’s missed the obvious. “My name is Astarion. I was in Balder’s Gate when-”

Astarion. Save Astarion. Astarion. 

All the breath leaves her lungs as she interrupts, “You’re Astarion?”

[luci-is-a-bitch-x3x]

Obey Me! Brothers React to: Under the Table Fun!

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Welcome! to this adventure! The characters may not be how you imagine! I apologize for any poor jokes, bad spelling, and terrible grammar. I don't know why I can't write the content I need to, and why I instead write weird content but uh yeah hopefully you guys like it. Without further ado, please enjoy the content. ♡

⚠︎Caution: NSFW Post⚠︎

Cw: feet, foot jobs? Exibistism? Idk tell me if I missed any warnings. I have no idea what this is but enjoy.

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Mc and the brothers are eating in the dinning hall like normal. Mc sits across the table from the character, and while everyone's eating and chatting Mc uses their feet to tease and pleasure the character. (I feel like once the brothers choose a seat at the table it never changes or a fight will break out, but we'll pretend for the scenario that sitting in different spots is allowed)

Lucifer's Reaction:

This man sits at the head of the table so good luck man. The odds of him sitting at a seat rather than the head of the table are low, but not impossible.

When Lucifer first feels something touch his leg he is surprised and suspicious, he immediately thinks it's one of his brothers pulling one of their idiotic pranks. Mans is traumatized by his brothers pranks.

..However when Lucifer glances under the table and sees it's Mc's foot he's amused. At first he thinks maybe Mc just wants to rest their feet on his lap while eating, but he quickly catches onto Mc's plans as they slide their foot up his thigh and begin rubbing it against his clothed groin. Lucifer will indulge in Mc's antics for a little bit, Lucifer may even let Mc give him a footjob under the table until everyone's eating dinner, if he doesn't think his brothers will catch them. But most likely Lucifer will stop Mc after a few minutes of indulging them. Lucifer will direct Mc's foot to a different part of his lap, allowing them to rest their leg on his lap as long as they behave and don't begin their actions again. Lucifer will even hold Mc's ankle with his non-dominant hand while he eats, no it's not cute and for comfort, hes just doing it to prevent Mc from moving their foot, don't let his trickery fool you.

Lucifer's reaction draws no attention to what's happening under the table, he's calm and collected and even when indulging Mc his face only gets a little red and he covers any sounds he makes with coughing or clearing his throat. If he gets to the point where he doesn't feel like he's hiding what's happening well, then he'll simply stop Mc's antics.

There is no way in the three worlds that Mc is getting the Avatar of Pride to cum during dinner with his brothers. An insane thought. According to him. Don't listen tho, remember nothing's impossible if you try hard enough, keep dreaming! One Lucifer is too prideful to pull his cock out for Mc to even give him a proper footjob so their job of getting him to cum with just their feet would be harder than it would be if he wasn't as prideful. Two there is no way, absolutely no way, anyone is getting this man to cum in his pants. Or so he thinks. That would destroy his ego, he's the Avatar of Pride man! That all said, Lucifer will be whisking Mc away as soon as dinner is finished, taking them to his room to finally get the release that is owed to him. After all he indulged Mc's bratty antics, and they got themselves into this situation in the first place.

Mammon's Reaction:

It's actually surprisingly hard to get a seat across from Mammon, I feel like he's the type to want to sit next to Mc on the side Mc's on, and he's not afraid to fight and complain over it, so it'll take effort.

When Mammon first feels something touch him from under the table, he helps or screams in surprise. What was he supposed to do?? It could've been a ghost or something scary! Mammon's reaction causes all the other brothers to look at him, and Mammon being Mammon he probably embarrassedly yells at Mc, so they have to play it off as wanting to scare him. Mc may wait to try again, or if they're bold enough they'll continue to try that night, it'll only take a few attempts for Mammon to adjust and get used to feeling Mc's foot touch his legs and be in his lap, so he'll eventually stop jumping and freaking out.

When Mc finally is able to get down to business and begins sliding their foot up Mammon's thigh towards his groin Mammon freezes, he tenses up and his face goes red, but he recovers quickly and eases up. He covers his face with his hand embarrassedly, but he stays silent, not throwing a fit or making a scene. Mc takes this as a sign to continue, they begin to rub their foot against Mammon's clothed bulge. Mammon will be a good boy and enjoy whatever attention Mc is giving him, he's greedy for all Mc's attention even if he is stressing. If Mc really wants to be spicy and bold, all they have to do is send Mammon a text. He'll do anything his human asks of him, even whip it out so Mc can give him a proper footjob under the table.

Mammon's Reaction does draw attention, I mean Mammon's loud and chaotic so for him to go quiet and his face to be all red, his brothers are going to be suspicious and tease him. Though his brothers probably won't catch on to what's happening unless Mc makes Mammon cum. If Mc makes Mammon cum then everyone in the room will know what's happening under the table, or at least that Mammon is cumming. Mans is too loud for his own good, couldn't even hold back if he tried, which he did.

Mc can definitely get Mammon to cum if that's what they are wanting. Mammon won't cum instantly but it won't take too much work to work Mammon off. When Mammon cums he moans loudly, even with his hand on his mouth everyone can hear it, so all attention is on him. Mammon makes his case worse, instead of trying to play it off Mammon panics and just bolts, he's gone running to his room so fast, leaving Mc with his brothers and his mess. I like to think Mc would have learned some cool spell that could just clean up the mess so they wouldn't get caught, they could just pretend they have absolutely no idea what's wrong with Mammon. Mammon is gonna be mad, he got embarrassed, humiliated even in front of his brothers, but he will get over it. He'll probably be going to Mc's room or dragging Mc to his room by the end of the night. He may even come up with a plan to try and get Mc back, though his plans usually backfire on him.

Leviathan's Reaction:

I'm almost positive that Levi canonly sits across the table from Mc, so doing this with him would be super easy. Just don't push your luck too much, Levi freaks and scares easily, if he doesn't trust that he can sit across from Mc without going through this every time then he'll just stop sitting across from Mc. So it can only be done occasionally.

When Levi first feels something touch him from under the table he freaks out, not nearly as bad as Mammon's reaction but that's because Levi freezes, he becomes a deer in headlights. He freezes his body tenses up and he looks terrified to see what's touching him. When he looks under the table and sees it's Mc's foot, he tenses up more, his face going red, if Levi could become any more frozen he would. I feel like Levi just knows what's going on, he just knows Mc's not just trying to be cute and rest their foot on his lap while eating.

When Levi feels Mc begin to slide their foot up his thigh towards his groin he knows he's done for. Levi is aroused and flustered before Mc even begins to rub their foot against his groin. Levi is frozen in place so Mc has time to tease and mess with the poor okatu. Levi will not be hard to get off, so if Mc doesn't want to put him through that they have to be careful with how much they push and tease him. No matter how long Mc messes with Levi, he'll be sweating, mans is stressing, he's an anxious frozen mess. If Levi snaps out of his panic he may take off running for his room, but he'll be sure to send Mc a D.D.D message. He may yell at Mc over text but he'll also probably beg them to come to his room and finish what they started.

Levi's reaction could cause suspicion and draw attention. It really just depends how much attention his brothers are paying to him that day, say Mc pulls this trick when Levi's in the middle of ranting, then his brothers are obviously going to notice how he suddenly freezes up and gets all flustered and sweaty. Levi darting away to his room actually doesn't cause that much suspension just because he runs away to his room so often. If Mc makes Levi cum he surprisingly won't draw too much attention, he may squeak when he cums but then he's gone, darting off to his room faster than ever before, nobody has time to see the wet spot on Levi's pants before he's out of the room, going to hide away in his room for like a week. Mans is too anxious to go to dinner for a bit.

Getting Levi to cum would be extremely easy. You don't even need to get him to whip it out, which he wouldn't do mans is too anxious for that, what if one of his brothers saw? He'd never live down the embarrassment. Depending on Mc and how fast they want the experience to be over they can have Levi cumming within the first few minutes if not seconds. Trying to give our boy the benefit of the doubt, so let's say minutes. As previously stated his reaction is so Levi like that even if he cums he won't raise suspension, just hiding in his room before anyone even realizes he got up. It doesn't matter if Mc makes Levi cum or not, they will be getting a D.D.D message, it'll probably be Levi yelling at them all embarrassedly. Mc is required to go bribe their way into his room and give him cuddles and apologies. Then Levi may end up wanting to have fun again, in the safety of his room of course.

Satan's Reaction:

Satan seems like the type to sit across from Mc, I think he sits like across to the right or left of Mc not directly across from Mc, but there are occasions when he sits directly across from Mc. So it's not too hard to do this with Satan, but it is a dangerous game to play.

When Satan first feels something touch him from under the table he tenses up, he doesn't know what to think, maybe it's one of the cats he's been hiding in his room. Maybe the cat escaped, followed the smell of food and naturally came to him to beg for food. The only way to see if his theory is right is to look and see. ...looking down Satan is puzzled when he sees it's actually Mc's foot. A million thoughts and ideas scatter his mind and he can't figure what's going through Mc's until he looks up and sees Mc's mischievous smirk. As soon as Satan catches on to Mc's plans his face goes bright red, but he doesn't make a scene or purposely draw attention. He sees what Mc's doing as a challenge, he likes winning especially against Mc. It's almost better than winning against Lucifer..almost.

When Satan feels Mc sliding their foot towards his groin he knows the challenge has started. He keeps himself calm and composed besides his face being bright red and him occasionally clearing his throat. Satan will do absolutely everything in his power to not focus on Mc rubbing their foot against his clothed bulge. Satan is thinking about everything possible, the type of stuff that's instant turn offs to him. Satan does not go silent either, he uses conversations as a distraction so he sits there chatting about the most random things possible. If Mc's doing a good job and he really needs a distraction, he'll start a random conversation with Lucifer, he thought having a conversation with Lucifer would distract him, since he knew it would piss him off. Imagine how awkward that conversation would be, mans is unintentionally drawing attention to himself. Talking to Lucifer does piss him off, but it doesn't take his attention off Mc and their actions under the table. If Satan gets mad enough he might just grab Mc and drag them off to his room in the middle of dinner. He may want to win but he's not the Avatar of Pride so he's willing to admit defeat. However if Satan can control his wrath, he'll try and make it through the whole dinner. He'll only give up if he has to, he's not cumming during dinner with his brothers right there. Do you know what Lucifer would say and think? Satan's not giving that to Lucifer, that prideful bastard would hold that over him for the rest of his life. "Satan couldn't control himself at the table" The arrogant prick would treat him like a child.

Satan's reaction does draw attention and suspension from his brothers. One he's incredibly flustered the entire time, and he's brothers are always pointing out and picking on him when he's flustered. Two he's talking about the most random things, kind of sounding like Levi, and he's only like that when he's talking about a good book or crime show, or cats. It's not that his brothers think that Satan's a "calm person", but his brothers know he can usually hold a conversation. Three, he willingly started a conversation with Lucifer, one that seemingly wasn't supposed to be a prank or an argument, that's immediately suspicious. If Mc ends up getting Satan to cum it will only draw attention because he'll stand up and just bolts to his room, which isn't normal for Satan unless he's mad.

I don't think Satan would let Mc make him cum at dinner with his brothers. Satan has some restraint, and he'll know when he's about to finish, so I feel like he'd just stand up and excuse himself, but before he actually leaves the room I feel like he'd grab Mc and drag them off to his room with him. He may want to win the challenge but he's not determined enough to cum in the middle of dinner with his brothers. If he didn't do that then he'd definitely be messaging Mc once he's in his room, Mc started this mess now they have to finish it. Doing this to Satan is dangerous as Mc has now made it fair game for Satan to get Mc back, so do expect to be experiencing pay back sometime during future meals at the house of Lamentations. Who knows, maybe Satan will be bold enough to do it somewhere besides the house.

Asmodeus's Reaction:

Like with Mammon, I believe it's hard to sit across from Asmo but not as hard as it is with Mammon. I feel like Asmo sits next to Mc because he likes being close to Mc, Asmo like Mammon complains and argues usually when he can't sit next to Mc. But all Mc would have to do is ask Asmo to sit across from them so they can stare at his beautiful face during dinner and Asmo would be all over it.

I can see this going two ways I feel like it'd just depend on Asmo's mood and how goofy and horny he's feeling, the joking way I would say is that Asmo jokingly asks Mc if they are getting friendly under the table, just to realize that Mc actually is. But in seriousness here's his reaction: When Asmo feels something touch him from under the table he squeals loudly and dramatically drawing everyone's attention to him. Asmo goes to make a huge scene, but stops when he sees what touched him under the table.

When Asmo notices it was Mc's foot that actually touched him he squeals again, but this time it's more out of excitement, he knows what Mc's up to before Mc even has to do anything. Even though Asmo has all his brothers attention on him he plays it off like a pro, Asmo will start chattering about some make up brand or something that he's just been DYING to tell his brothers, when. In all reality hes just trying to keep their attention off of what's happening under the table. Asmo's face may get a little red as Mc begins rubbing their foot against his clothed groin but he mostly plays off his arosual extremely well. Asmo will gladly let Mc do as much as they want with this situation, if Mc wants him to whip it out under the table all they have to do is send a message and he's quickly but discreetly unzipping his pants and getting it out. Getting Asmo to cum would not be too hard of a task, you just have to be really dedicated and willing to deal with any repercussions getting Asmo to cum may cause.

Asmo's reaction while it's happening is not too suspicious, his brothers may think he's being extra chatty but besides that he'd hide it really well, Asmo's the Avatar of Lust, he has done all sorts of things and knows how to mask his pleasure well. But making it so Asmo cums could be a problem, now I think he's extremely capable of not being loud when finishing if necessary, but this is Asmo we're talking about, I feel like he's saying he's blessing everyone's ears by letting them hear him finish. But he may also not want to get in trouble, because then they may stop allowing Mc and him to sit next to each other, so he may keep quiet just so it can be done again.

Getting Asmo to cum wouldn't be too hard so if that's Mc's endgame then they're in luck, cause Asmo will let it happen. Asmo has no shame cumming in his pants, he may be upset if it's his favorite pants or undergarments, but he'll just make Mc go shopping with him. If Mc had Asmo whip it out, he'll use a napkin or something so they don't make a mess, especially if he's not trying to get them caught. If Asmo doesn't moan loudly while finishing then he just casual hangs out for the rest of dinner, Asmo will whisk Mc away after dinner, if not to have more fun then to just cuddle and hang out. If Asmo can't whisk Mc away then he'll definitely send a D.D.D message, probably talking about how much fun he had and how naughty Mc is, but he'll most likely mention wanting to do it again.

Beelzebub's Reaction:

It's not incredibly hard to sit across from Beel like it is with some of his brothers. Beel enjoys just sitting at a table with everyone he cares about and eating some good food, though that doesn't mean that Beel doesn't prefer when Mc is in a closer proximity to him then not, Beel just won't make a scene cause he doesn't want to ruin a good meal.

When Beel first feels something touch him from under the table there's like no reaction at all, Man's is focused on eating, he thinks one of his brothers just kicked him whether it was on accident or because he stole some food he doesn't care he's just gonna keep munching away.

When Beel feels something sliding up the inside of his thigh from under the table he finally looks under the table. Seeing it's Mc's foot Beel is a little confused, but he doesn't mind Mc touching him so he just continues eating. When Mc starts rubbing their foot against Beel's clothes groin Beel's face may get a little red and he may make "mmm~" sounds while he's eating but other than that Mc doesn't really get much of a reaction, Beel continues eating all the same. Mc fairly mistakes the lack of reaction as a lack of enjoyment and goes to remove their foot from Beel's lap completely. Beel gently grabs Mc's ankle, moving their foot back to his clothed groin. Mc's confused until Beel ruts a little against Mc's foot while still eating the whole time. Mc gets the point and begins rubbing their foot against Beel's clothed erection. Beel munches away happily, enjoying the pleasure from Mc and enjoying his food, it's one of the best meals he ever had if not the best meal he's ever had.

Beel's reaction does not draw suspicion from his brothers, Beel is always enjoying food so him blushing or groaning in enjoyment is nothing new to anyone who's ever eaten with Beel. If Mc makes Beel cum his reaction will cause attention to be drawn just because of what happens.

Mc could make Beel cum but that's a really bad idea. Mans may start choking on the food he's scarfing down, if Beel started choking all attention is going to be drawn to him, and in a very fast manner, he'd literally be choking, man. So cumming during dinner with his brothers doesn't happen for Beel but he will sit there and enjoy Mc just rubbing their foot against his clothed erection and basically edging him until dinner is over. After dinner Beel will willingly follow Mc to their room to finish things off, Beel's a hungry man so the favor will be returned. Beel is one of the only ones that will straight up admit he wouldn't mind if Mc did it again during a different meal, it made the meal all the better for him, even if Mc doesn't do it again, it'll be memorable for Beel.

Belphegor's Reaction:

It's honestly pretty easy to sit across from Belphie, Belphie is a brat about a lot of things, but where he sits during dinner is not one of things he's a brat over as long as he's sitting somewhere around Mc. It doesn't even have to be close to Mc, as long as he can see and hear Mc he's fine and surprisingly won't throw a tantrum. So sitting across from Mc isn't going to earn any whiny remarks from Belphie.

Belphie is half asleep when he first feels something touch him from under the table. He jolts awake in surprise, causing his brothers to look at him confused. Belphie ignores his brothers's weird looks and looks under the table, seeing it's Mc's foot Belphie's tired mind is nothing but confused. He can tell by the mischievous smirk Mc has that Mc's up to no good, but he's still too half asleep to understand Mc's plan.

It's when Belphie feels Mc's foot sliding up the inside of his thigh that he realizes what Mc's planning. When Mc's foot reaches Belphie's clothed groin and begins to rub against it, Belphie's face gets bright red and his eyes go wide, even though he knew that's where this was going he feels suprised Mc was brave enough to go through with it. Belphie may have been half asleep before this but Mc's actions are enough to have the Avatar of Sloth wide awake now. Belphie is a brat, one would expect him to cause a scene or do something bratty, Belphie even expected himself to do that. But Belphie doesn't throw a fit and grab anyone's attention, nor does he try and do something bratty. Belphie moves his plate out of the way and then lays his head down on the dinning room table, not because he's tired, but because he wants to hide his flusteredness and reactions from his brothers and Mc. Belphie will keep his head laying down on the table like he's sleeping the entire time Mc does their actions, but that doesn't mean he's not enjoying it. The fact that Mc's foot is rubbing against his clothed erection is a clear sign that Belphie's aroused and enjoying it, but Belphie occasionally ruts his hips, grinding against Mc's foot which shows he's really enjoying it and being a needy brat. Like usual. Belphie is at Mc's mercy, he'll oddly be a good boy and just sit there and take whatever attention Mc will give him. Because he's an attention whore.

Belphie's reaction doesn't draw suspicion unless he cums or makes too much noise while enjoying Mc's actions. Belphie falls asleep at the table often, he falls asleep literally everywhere, honestly his brothers probably looked over to make sure he wasn't laying on food and then his brothers probably went back to doing their own thing while eating. The fake sleeping act totally would work for Belphie with this. If Belphie cums he may draw suspicion but he could play it off by saying he had a nightmare, Belphie would moan all high pitchedly because he'd be trying to hold back and not make sound, not wanting to be embarrassed by his brothers, so he may be able to say it was more of a scream in fear, but that'll earn teasing too. If Belphie can't get them to not take any lie or excuse he comes up with, he'll try and put all the blame on Mc, he's a brat.

If Mc wants to edge him til dinners over they can, if they want him to cum in his pants they just have to push him over the edge and he'll let it happen. Maybe it's the scenario, but Belphie's brain just blanks, no bratty way to combat Mc's actions, nothing but enjoying the pleasure Mc's ballsy enough to give him during a meal with his brothers. If Mc chooses to make Belphie cum they have to be willing to deal with any consequences if there are any. The rest of the brothers would def make a big deal out of it, and punishments could be dished out. Idk if they'd be the kinky kind this time man. If Mc and Belphie don't get caught he'd hide the wet stain on his pants from his mess with his little cow pillow, then after dinner he'd head up to the attic or follow Mc to their room. He's got pay back to give and then cuddles are deserved. Truthfully I don't think Belphie would mind it happening again, I could see him honestly just liking Mc keeping him awake at random times by edging him, and meals would be one of those times.

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Thats all for now babes! Hope you enjoyed!! ♡ This is not proofread. Feel free to comment or reblog any thoughts or any add ons you have! Sorry some of these aren't as great as others, I just spaced out writing each one too much. Do you guys want a version of this where it's the brothers doing something to Mc during a meal? Let me know if so. Anyways more content is coming soon so Stay Tuned! Stay Safe! & Stay Groovy Scooby! ♡

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⟡˙⋆Masterlist⋆˙⟡

[mxrecg]

True Love vs Infatuation | Gojo x Reader

Summary: Gojo loves nothing more than spending time with you, even if it only consists of doing the most mundane of things. It wasn't until today, you realized just how much Gojo Satoru loves you.

Pairing: High School Gojo x YN

Genre: fluff, established relationship

Word Count: 2.4k

A/n: Imma be so honest idk wtf this is but I wrote it a hellaaa long time ago. So bc JJK s2 is out I thought why not post this drabble I wrote a long ass time ago. I also genuinely think this prolly isn't how canon Gojo would act but bruh I tried!! Anyways enjoy

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Incandescent fireflies painted the dark sky with small flakes of light, creating an enriched serene atmosphere for reading. 

So there you sat cross-legged, outside your balcony, fully engrossed by the book you were reading. 

You slowly became hypnotised by the words allocated within the pages of the novel you were reading.

As your eyes further loomed through the pages and comprehended the context, your eyebrows furrowed in irritation and cuss words occasionally left your lips. 

Lost and captivated by the words decorating the interior pages of the book, you paid no mind to the snoring boy who laid down on your lap. 

You continued reading the story. Book in your dominant hand; whereas, the other one gently massaged the scalp of the teenage boy on your lap. 

Page after page began to turn, and soon enough you’ve reached the final page… to say you were disappointed was an understatement. 

Angered at the ending, you immediately slammed the book down on a coffee table and debated on whether or not you should ignite it on fire for illustrating such a realistic yet heartbreaking ending. 

Your sudden outburst lured the teenage boy out of his sleep, and he groaned, carelessly rubbing his eyes during his tired state. 

“Did one of your favourite manga boys die again?” he asked, now fully sitting up and stretching his arms. 

“You’re not entirely wrong,” you aggravatedly muttered. 

“Then tell me what’s aggravating your pretty self and giving you wrinkles,” he stated and you didn’t even bother showing your irritation to the latter comment. 

You took a deep breath, turned your head and he watched as your eyes became livid as you recited the vast difference of each character’s milieu and how their fate perfectly intertwined with one another. 

Your hands doing all sorts of motions, in an attempt to exemplify your extreme dislike and sadness of the poetic story you read. 

A story involving two individuals who unconsciously were ameliorating each other’s lives.

“It’s infuriating Satoru!! Did these two airheads even love each other?? It hasn’t even been like 24 hours and the girl is already marrying the man who was bawling his eyes over another girl- love of my life my ass,”

Satoru listened to your outburst intently, smiling at the sounds of your melodic voice. 

You let out a small huff of frustration, before finally ending your rant and the tears suddenly cascaded down your pale skin, “That being said, the author is able to write damn well.” 

Satoru only laughed quietly, wiping away your stray tears with his right hand, “I thought you hated sad romantic books? Why would you willingly choose to read Shakespere? At least watch the movie instead,” he replied and began playing with your hair. 

His reply caught you off guard and you tilted your head in confusion, staring at him with wide eyes. 

“You know what book I’m talking about?” you asked incredulously.  

“Yes… why do you look so shocked?” he asked, continuing to brush the threads of your h/l h/c hair, “It’s Romeo and Juliet, how could I not know? I swear Shoto was straight up fangirling about the movie actor-Da Vinci!!” 

“Da Vinci?” you replied, flicking his forehead and trying to hide your growing amusement, causing the man to pout his lips, “How the hell would a painter act? A dead painter at that.”

“No- no Leonardo Da Vinci the actor-”

It took every fibre in you to not burst out laughing at the moron in front of you, “My love, listen to me carefully- it's Di Caprio. Da Vinci painted the Mona Lisa.” 

The man in front of you scoffed at your reply. 

“Da Vinci. Di Caprio, who cares. They’re both Leo’s involved in the art industry of the world. You must admit though, neither of them compare to me!” he said proudly. 

“I don’t know…. Leonardo Di Caprio does seem to have a lot of fangirls right now…. I mean have you seen him in Romeo and Juliet? Or better yet, Titanic?”

The man only poked the interior of his cheek with his tongue, scowling at you as you laughed. 

“The real question is though- did you read the book?”

“Yes,” he let out, not missing a beat. 

“The Satoru Gojo reads? The world must be ending,” you teased, clasping one of his hands and using your other hand to caress his cheek. 

Satoru didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned into your hand and softly smiled. 

His eyes soon twinkled into amusement, as an idea struck him. 

Noticing the change of his behaviour, you lifted an eyebrow to display your confusion. Satoru remained silent and instead flipped you over, so that your back was pressed against the couch. 

He smirked, straddling your hips and began tickling your sides. 

Squirming under his touch, you burst into fits of laughter, “T-toru…. S-stop….” you tried to breathe out, “Gojo- p-please hahahaha.”

Your pleas only encouraged him to tickle you faster, and you soon began to kick your feet, thrashing beneath the man as if your strength could overpower his. 

“Say Gojo Satoru is the strongest person in the world,” he smiled, continuing his attack. 

“I’d rather die,” you said in between heaps of laughter.

The man poked the interior of his cheek before smirking at you, a playful smile adorning his face as he continued with his attack. 

“Being tickled to death. Hm that seems new, I’ll discard your body so don’t worry, suit yourself,” he replied and grazed his fingers at your newly exposed skin, since your shirt slowly began to ride up above your navel. 

“Ok ok… Gojo… is the… strongest person….” 

“Go on, continue,” he encouraged. 

Despite the laughter escaping your lips, forcing your eyes shut, you already sensed the cockiness behind his words and you immediately laughed harder when you thought of something that would catch him off guard. 

“Gojo- i-is… the… strongest….” you stuttered out. 

“Altogether, now, state the full name,” he stated. Although, it seemed more like a command than a request. 

“OK!! Gojo Y/n is the strongest person in the world,” you spurred out in one quick breath. 

Impressed with the turn of events and his lack of words, you could not help but smirk- considering you made this cocky guy lose his demeanour. 

His tickling immediately ceased, his irises resembling a deer caught in the headlights, and his mouth slowly falling open. 

Gojo was in disbelief, as he tried to ensure his hearing wasn’t deteriorating and the words that escaped your mouth not too long ago were not a part of his mere illusive imagination.

Before he could recover and say some snide snarky remark, you grabbed Satoru’s shirt, pulling him down with you against the cushions of the couch you resided on. 

The action took him by surprise, but he didn't refuse and instead grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him, with his arms eventually caging you beneath him. 

He licked your bottom lip, and you found yourself parting your mouth slightly, both your tongues intertwining with one another. 

Caressing your cheek, he then began to angle your head more towards the left, and did not hesitate to bite your bottom lip shortly after. 

You hissed at the new sensation, and Gojo immediately attempted to alleviate the now burning sensation on your lips by running his lips over the new forming bruise. 

You were the first to pull back to breathe. As the both of you attempted to even out your breathing, one of your hands caressed his dusted pink cheeks, while the other one removed his sunglasses, revealing those piercing icy blue eyes you fell in love with. 

He looked at you with such love and adoration that you could not help but feel butterflies swarming around your stomach. 

Your e/c eyes looked up at his illuminating bright blue ones and you smiled, “I’m the strongest person in the world, Toru.”

“That you are,” he replied, kissing your nose. 

“You’re not even going to rebuttal and be the cocky bastard you usually are?” You questioned him, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re the strongest… The strongest doesn’t necessarily mean having the most power. It’s your character. Plus you got me… not just anyone could make me fall in love with them. You have my tall ass whipped around your finger.” 

You stared at your boyfriend, in awe and bursted out laughing. “We’re both strong. How about that?” 

“Mhm. We’re the top two strongest special grade sorcerers to exist, and for the next century to come” he muttered and buried himself into your neck, as he was now fully lying down on you. 

You laughed at his reply, “Your best friend might not like that statement so much,” 

“... I mean you’re also my best friend and technically you’re stronger than him, not by a longshot but still stronger nonetheless… and I couldn’t be more proud of you,” he mumbled and kissed your neck. 

You quietly hummed in reply, and began to softly hymn the songs of a soft lullaby.

Satoru was still lying on top of you, and as the melody escaped your lips, your fingers threaded his soft white hair. 

Gojo Satoru was at peace. This cocky bastard was like putty in your hands, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

To others his exterior forecasted a childish, arrogant and conceited individual. One who would blatantly show his dislike to those who he did not give an ounce of care for. 

And to the shaman and other sorcerers who only knew his name, he was a force to be reckoned with and feared. 

But to you, he was only Gojo Satoru. 

“Y/n?” he called out softly. 

“Yeah?” 

“You know, I love you, right?” his face may have been hiding in your neck, but you could feel him smiling. 

You raised an eyebrow at his sudden comment, but even you couldn’t stop the smile threatening to form, “I know. And I love you too, forever and always,” 

“You didn’t lie though earlier,” he randomly stated, “One day, your new name will become Gojo Y/n.”

“Satoru…” you whispered, fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall. 

“One day, I’ll marry you… and when we’re older you'll become the mother of our children.”

“One day Satoru, one day,” you replied, kissing his temple. “By the way, since when did you even read- romance books?” 

You felt his breathing hitch and he slowly pried himself off of you, aimlessly scratching the back of his head. 

“Uhm… like two years ago?” 

“Why though?”

“About two years ago,  there was a new transfer student. I noticed she was eloquently spoken, especially in English-”

“Eloquently spoken??” You asked, trying to suppress your laughter. 

“Shut up and let me finish,”

You covered your mouth and smiled. 

“Anyways, I was coming back from a mission and stuffing my face with an assortment of sweets. Then I heard you and Shoko talking about romance novels, and how you liked guys that read… so the first book I picked up was some corny romance manga and then I read Romeo and Juliet. Shitty book that I barely understood but happy ending I guess.” 

“So you only started reading because you overheard me talk about it?” you pinched his cheeks, “Aw, first year Gojo Satoru was so whipped and in love, how sweet” 

Satoru only rolled his eyes at your statement, and you bursted out laughing as you remembered his attempts to woo you back in your first year. 

“I thought you barely had any hobbies?” you asked. 

“I don’t. Because I’m good at everything.” 

“Yet you still chose to pick up reading of all things?” you slightly laughed. 

“I would pick up any hobby if you asked me to, honestly.”

“No offence, but if that is where you got your romance from you did a shitty job, love.” you giggled. 

“Ouch,” he replied,  “But hey it went pretty well, you’re mine now anyways.” 

 “That you are,” You replied, kissing his nose. “So if you read the book and I assume you also watched the movie, do you understand my pain?” 

“100% Romeo is an airhead. He was probably just horny and infatuated with the first female he saw,” he bluntly stated and you couldn’t help but laugh out loud, Satoru joining in on your laughter. 

As your laughs began to die down he continued, “On a serious note though… Whether or not it was love, their actions prove that they did love each other. I guess love really does make you blind, their suicide only proved that.”

“Tragic ending?” 

“Not really… in a way, I believe it’s a happy ending- that is, assuming those two airheads were actually in love with each other.”

“Did you not hear me muttering cuss words when reading and slamming the book? If you asked me, that book was nothing but aggravating and sad.” 

“Sad as their death was, it was a happy ending. They claimed to have met their soulmate and the love of their life before they died. Not everyone gets that luxury you know?” 

You looked at your boyfriend with both amazement and confusion, “Since when were you so wise?” 

“I don’t even know, love. But I’m not wrong…. Our story would be much happier though, because neither of us are gonna die.”

“You spoke nothing but the truth,” you quietly replied and the two of you began leaning into each other once again. 

“Who knew Satoru could be such a wise lil baby,” said a voice, laughing. 

The two of you immediately pulled away, and looked up to see no one other than Geto Suguru, the poor third wheeler of your relationship. 

“Suguru… how long have you been there for?” you asked. 

“Enough to know that this man loves you way too much… to the point where he knows his feelings for you aren’t infatuation but solid feelings.” 

While you were a blushing mess, Gojo only smiled and smacked his best friend on his back, “Okay enough chit chat, why don’t we all get something to eat, yeah? I suggest-” 

“Steak. We’re eating steak tonight at that new restaurant. You both are paying. It’s the least you could do for making me witness such crap.” 

“You’re just mad because you’re single, bro”

“Ain’t that the truth,” you agreed. 

“Shut the actual fuck, both of you lovebirds.”

The three of you then laughed and made your way to the restaurant of Suguru’s choice.

A/n: So any thoughts? I hope you all liked it <3 Ngl, this does have another part to it, but idk if I'll ever post it tbh. Follow me on my ao3 account I have other ffs there too @idekmxre

[roronoagem]

So I had an idea, idk know if you do multiple character hcs but how would the strawhats (separate and choose who you want, I know there’s many strawhats) react to their S/O being super stubborn when their unwell, they only find out they have been ill because they passed out on the ship.

Chopper just being super worried!!

I hope this can be mostly fluff but I can see some angst at the beginning, have fun!!

characters: monster trio + nami

content warning: gn!reader (they/them), mention of being sick, it’s mostly fluff i think + not proofread.

a/n: hi, thank u for the req !! i’m sorry for choosing only 4 strawhats, i hope at least one of your fav is there & most importantly that they’re at least a bit in character 😭 i hope you’ll enjoy it <3

𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘.

i don’t think he would actually panic at first . . his brother used to fell asleep randomly so, maybe it just happened to you too?

when he’s not successful in waking you up, he calls for chopper and tells you just hit the floor and bang.

when finishes explaining what happened, luffy scolds you — maybe call you dumb for not taking care of yourself, too.

he means no harm, trust me. he’s just worried about something happening to you.

would always be close to you — more than usual, to make sure you’re doing okay and that you’re not overworking yourself.

𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎.

would call for chopper, explaining that you just passed out right in front of his eyes.

panics but doesn’t panic . . yeah.

chopper does panic tho.

when they find out that you neglected your own body and health out of stubbornness, first zoro lectured you and then chopper tried to be a bit gentler while explaining that it could be really dangerous.

zoro is by your side 24/7 making sure you’re recovering and you’re not sick anymore.

i believe he would start looking out for you even more, just in case you keep ignoring your health.

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈.

she panics.

calls for chopper.

they panic together.

man . . nami definitely scolds you till you beg her to stop and promise you’ve learned your lesson.

chopper makes you promise you will come to him right away if you’re not feeling well.

nami would threaten you by making you pay if she catches you neglecting your health ever again.

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈.

he’d call for chopper right away and try not to get in the way with his worry as the little reindeer is visiting you.

once the situation is clear, sanji would talk with you about how important it is to take care of yourself, that your health affects anything you do, etc.

would be super attentive and looking out for you.

he 100% makes sure you’re taking care of yourself.

& i also believe he would assure chopper to not worry too much because he’s here too, y’know.

[deliciousbasementtrash]

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

From Injustice Gods Among Us Year 5 #15

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. Will you take it?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x reader, (maybe a why choose with Dick Grayson as well?? Idk tell me what you guys want)

Warning: Adult language, parental abuse, parental neglect

Word Count: 1.6k

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it 

Part One, Part Two

Part Three: Skip-Bo and Chess

My mind raced as I went over the contract. Everything seemed too simple, too easy. The only terms and conditions I had to abide by were that I wouldn’t reveal his identity and that I would need to essentially be on call from the hours of 21:00 to 7:00, but roughly 24/7. The pay was a ridiculous amount. The insurance was crazy good. I didn’t realize it was possible to get that much coverage. But this went against everything I have represented in my life. Would I be betraying the people of Gotham, my patients, and my fellow coworkers, by taking this job? Would I be betraying myself and my past history? 

Gotham City: 16 Years Ago 

My father and I stood over my mother’s grave. It was strange. My mom was a woman who breathed life into everything. She never wore a dull color, she danced whenever she could, and she sang horribly and off tune. She wore her hair in two long braids with colorful ribbons. She wore sweet perfume. She wore red lipstick. She wore so many necklaces and bracelets she jingled when she walked. She snorted when she laughed. And now when I looked at her all I saw was dirt and a gravestone. Her colorfulness, her loudness, her laughter, her joy, all of it was gone. I knew I couldn’t cry though. Not in front of Dad. He got so much meaner when I did. Sometimes I wonder what my beautiful, colorful, caring mother saw in this cruel bleak man. But I guess his bitterness was supposed to balance out her sweetness. 

But without her, it felt like I was choking on the disgusting taste of my reality. We were grieving. We had no money. And the debt just seemed to be getting deeper and deeper. I tried selling homemade cookies at school to help out. I raised about 22 dollars. I came home with a smile on my face and handed my father the money. He pocketed it without another word. It was almost worse when he was like this.

It felt like he was a teapot that was brewing and I was just waiting for the wrong thing to set him off. 

Some days when I came home from school he was home. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t look at me. Other days he wasn’t there. I had to scavenge the house for food or walk to the convenience store with what little money I had scurried away. 

It felt like my life had become black and white without my mom. Everything seemed so hopelessly bad. Then one day my dad came home with a smile on his face. My first instinct was to tense my body and avert my gaze. I didn’t know what he was going to do. 

“Sweetie, come with me. I have an idea,” my father said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me out the door with him. 

He drove like a maniac and pulled up towards a seemingly abandoned building. My blood ran cold with anticipation. 

My father practically ripped me out of the car and dragged me inside. Inside there were about twenty men all pretty beat up. All of them looked at me. I picked at my hangnails and looked at my father. 

“Y/n, these gentlemen need to be healed. Be a doll and heal them.” My father’s words were clipped, and my pulse raced. I merely nodded and healed man after man. It became clear to me, even at my young age, that these men were a part of a gang. Who’s? I had no idea. 

That was until a fat man in a tuxedo and a cane walked up to my father. He handed him a bundle of cash, they whispered some hurried words and the grotesque man leaned down towards me.

His short fat finger booped my nose, and the man tilted his head back and laughed at my reaction. I wanted to bite his finger off. I wanted to go home. I wanted my mom. 

For the next two years, my father did business with anyone that could pay him. Our life went from living by the penny to living in luxury. All due to my power. The richest of the rich, politicians, businessmen, criminals, and villains, all used my services. And eventually, they tried to buy me. 

That’s when I decided to run away. Or die trying.

Gotham City: Present Day 

I sat across from Sam, my best friend, and nurse colleague. “What do you think I should do?” She was the only one that I trusted enough to tell everything to. Of course, I left out the whole, ‘My boss would be Batman thing.’ 

“Girl, if you don’t take this job I will kill you,” Sam said, taking a large bite of her pasta. 

“Do you think I’m betraying my younger self? I promised I would never be bought. I would never work for a corrupt man.” 

“Maybe you should discuss with Mr. Wayne, that you would like to remain a nurse part-time. That way you ease your conscious about everything but still live in a fucking MANSION and make BANK, you dummy head. And this way you’re reclaiming your past. You get to choose. You’re not trapped.” 

I mindlessly pushed my food around my plate, lost in thought. “That’s not a terrible idea.” 

“Of course not, I never have bad ideas. Take one more night to think about it. But I think you have your answer.” 

That night I tossed and turned in my bed. I grabbed my phone, the bright screen making me blink. 

[I accept your terms, but I do have a few remediations to the contract. Signed, y/f/n y/l/n.] 

One week later. 

 “How are you taking to your new living situation, Miss y/l/n?” Alfred asked as he expertly julienned an onion. I not as gracefully diced several cloves of garlic across from him. 

I looked up at him, smiling, “I’m still getting used to it, to be honest.” It had become a silent routine over the past week. When I wasn’t working at the hospital, or patching up Batman, I got bored. So, I started helping Alfred with cooking. 

He taught me how to play chess. I taught him how to play Skip-Bo and dominos. I had grown quite fond of the man over the short period. It most definitely was my daddy issues clinging to the first nice man I saw. But Alfred Pennyworth seemed truly kind to me. 

I hadn’t met any other members of Bruce’s family, but supposedly they were all meeting for dinner tonight. For some reason, my pulse spiked at the thought of meeting them. My past gave me anxiety when meeting new people I didn’t know. 

As if reading my thoughts Alfred asked, “How are you feeling about meeting everyone tonight?”

I cut a piece of garlic a bit harshly, “I’m– I’m fine. Do you know if I am to meet them after the dinner or before?”

Alfred’s eyebrows quirked, “What do you mean? You most probably will meet them at dinner. You are attending are you not?”

“I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to eat with the family or not,” I stated, hesitantly. 

I heard a twang of metal as Alfred set down his knife. He gave me his full attention as he said, “Master Wayne may seem abrasive, Miss. But I assure you, he would never have to eat separately unless that is what you wished.” 

Abrasive was one way to put it. He often reminded me of a feral cat when I tried to heal him. He would practically hiss that he was fine. I had to politely remind my employer a few times that this was what I was here for and to let me heal him. 

We cooked in silence for a while, when out of the blue I asked Alfred, “Alfred, are you happy?”

Alfred always holding his poise answered calmly, “Happiness is something that fluctuates in my life, Miss. I will say that knowing that Master Wayne and the rest of the family are in your capable hands is reassuring me as of late. I also have been enjoying your company, no matter how many times you beat me in Skip-Bo.”

I laughed, a true genuine laugh. “Hey, you win every time we play chess!”

Alfred smiled softly, “Miss I have been playing chess since I was five years old. If I lost I think I would have to revoke my Englishmanship.” 

After my laughter died down, another question popped in my head, “What are they like? Mr. Wayne’s family?”

Alfred smiled, “Those children are loud, argumentative, loyal, funny, stubborn, etc. I love those children with everything I am. You will too, Miss y/l/n.”

An unfamiliar sense of warmth bloomed in my chest, “Thank you, Alfred.”

“Thank you, Miss y/l/n.”

As I was getting dressed. I could not pick out what I wanted to wear. Did I want to go casual with a tee shirt and jeans? A bit more formal with a dress? Semi-casual with a skirt and sweater? I decided on the last one, with some tights on underneath. I wanted to make a good impression. It felt like the first day of school. I made my way down the stairs. No one had arrived yet. I took a seat next to Alfred, my leg bouncing. 

Alfred patted my shoulder when we heard the door open, “It will be just fine.” 

The loud oncoming footsteps mimicked my thundering pulse.

[kuromochimi]

Pros and Cons

Rin Itoshi x F!Reader

If you’ve seen friends or if you want to see where I got the prompt from, it’s from when ross had to choose between two girls and made a pros and cons list to help him decide.

Content: angst to fluff, aged up characters (18+), not proof read

Rin didn’t think he’d ever end up in such a situation. See, despite there being a long line of women willing to climb mountains just to have a chance at being with rin, he very rarely entertained any of them… mostly because he already had his eyes set on someone else. You. But life’s circumstances never really gave you two any way to work on what you both knew could happen. He was mostly having away games or training and you were too busy with a blooming career somewhere far from where he usually wad. “It’s not the time”. The line rin would always tell himself. The right time just never seemed to present itself.

Unfortunately, time won’t always be friendly to continuously missed chances. After years of not having anything happen, rin came to the conclusion that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. Besides, you’ve had a few boyfriends and situationships here and there and rin, being surrounded by his team mates and their stories about how good it feels to have someone supporting them from the stands, he got impatient so he decided to give someone a try. Mai. One of the team’s PR managers. She always was nice to rin, pretty, soft spoken, understanding, basically what most men would want. Fortunately for rin, she also seemed to harbor some sort of attraction towards him. Nothing serious at the moment but definitely something to start with. A few dates here and there. Hang outs at home and all. Mai was aware that rin couldn’t commit yet and neither was she. The arrangement they had worked for both. But boy, was timing a bitch to rin. Roughly 3 months into dating mai, rin was rendered frozen in place when he received a message from you.

You: Rin! I’ve been assigned to work near your home stadium. Did I get that right? idk if that’s what you call it but yeah. I just moved in yesterday. Want to meet up? :)

As rin was mindlessly staring and repeatedly reading your message, reo passed by and “accidentally” saw the message. “dude, who’s that? isn’t mai going to get jealous?” Rin snapped back into reality after realizing his friends had seen what was going on. Isagi looked as well and as he read the contact name, a bulb went up his head “oh wait isn’t that the girl you used to like before you started dating mai?” A few banters here and there about the team invading rin’s privacy, shidou chimed in out of nowhere “Know what? Why don’t you make a pros and cons list for the girls? I know damn well you still like that one but you also seem smitten as fuck for mai so.. pros and cons man” and most of the time, only bullshit comes out of shidou’s mouth but god, rin was at such a crossroads, he gave in. With the help of his teammates, a list was made.

Later that day, rin agreed to meet with you. It’s not that he had already decided or that he was confident you still had feelings for him but he thought it wouldn’t hurt. Besides, he had already asked mai about it and she was more than okay with it. She even half joked half meant said that if things work out between you and rin, she should at least be invited to the wedding. When rin arrived at the meet up place and he saw you sitting and looking around, there was no doubt in his heart. It was still you and he was a big fool for ever thinking that dating someone else would ever work. Not to deny that mai was a great girl and that they matched pretty well.. it’s just that you were it for him. At that moment, he thanked the heavens that his arrangement with mai wasn’t serious yet. He felt bad having to end or because the relationship had its fair share of ups but, god, seeing you again just locked him in and it would feel wrong dating anyone else when he was this crazy for you. Rin walked up to you and gently tapped your shoulder. You immediately looked back to see him and as if on instinct, you jumped up to hug him. “Rin! How have you been?!” You exclaimed while still hugging him. “Hello to you too, yn” he calmly replied back while hugging back, cradling your head gently in his hand.

The meet up went as well as you had hoped. Lots of catching up, rin touring you around, trying out different food places. It was a fun welcome to the city. In the evening, as rin was about to drive you home, he realized that he left his phone at the restaurant. “Sorry yn, can you wait a bit, I think I left my phone” you gave him a gentle nod as he left the car. You let out a heavy sigh because god were you nervous. You wanted to finally try it out with rin since you were close by and distance wouldn’t be an issue anymore. As you were thinking of ways to tell him what you wanted to do, a piece of paper with your name on it caught your attention. It was at the little compartment in between the driver’s seat and your seat. Not meaning to be nosy but also being extremely curious, you picked it up and unfolded. You were half expecting a cute note but you were met with a pros and cons list. Specifically the cons list which had “unstable” and “needs career” which you immediately interpreted as him conveying that you looked to have no stability and that you had a career he deemed insufficient to consider as a relevant enough career. And it hurt. It hurt because he was right. Compared to him, your career was small and you couldn’t exactly blame him but you didn’t think he’d see it as something bad enough to consider it a “con”. You didn’t even realize you were crying and you didn’t realize that rin had just opened the door to his seat. “Yn? Hey what’s the matter?” He sounded so worried and caring but that didn’t matter. “I- I’m taking a cab, rin I’m sorry” his eyes darted to the piece of paper in your grasp and his face fell pale. “yn listen, wait” he gently grabbed your wrist and you let him. “I know this looks bad. Fuck, it is bad. But it’s not what you think. I don’t think you’re unstable or any of that. It’s just.. what I’m trying to say is that you being busy with your career, we wouldn’t be stable is what I’m trying to say there. And that you wouldn’t want to pick anything over your career at the moment. I swear I just.. I’m not good with words please believe me. And the other girl on the list, I tried dating someone else but when I saw you today, everything just fell into place. I like you still, I know you know that. She knows it too” and he was telling the truth. It just wasn’t sinking into your head that he was saying that he wanted a relationship? The person you’ve loved since senior year of high school likes you back. You always had a guy feel but he never acted on it so you brushed it off but now he just confessed. “Let me make it up to you and all the years we missed?” Rin asked with a smile.

[voidcat]

— what the cat dragged in

characters: papa emeritus iii/you, cardinal copia, nameless ghouls, sister imperator

wc & genre/notes: 8.1k – strangers to friends/lovers, fluff, suggestive content (minor discussion of kinks and terzo being terzo during mummy dust. That part starts with “I’d say you’re deflecting,” and ends with the divider.) neighbors au, reader has a cat… I’ll b honest idk what else to say

a/n: this is My blog and I get to choose how cringe I want to be. Yes I said I’d not write for ghost and did it anyways after one (1) bad day. Yes this file is titled “hatehatehatemyself” on Google drive. The part after the burgundy divider is an optional ending. You can read the entire thing as platonic or slowly growing into something romantic. have fun x

Head turned left and right, looking around, no sign around.

The neighborhood is rather quiet today, the sun up and everyone out, at work or else. Rustling of grass with each breeze reaches your ears, and each time you whip your head toward the direction with hope.

In a breath, you cross the road and walk and walk and walk. It’s a long one, not unbearably so but still a little unnerving. You don’t recall many people going this way after all.

Now standing before the grand door, the little mailbox a few meters away awfully standing out, you raise your fist and knock.

And wait.

And waiting you do for almost a minute, if it weren’t for the noises you hear, a clutter of something, a shatter there and finally footsteps.

The door swings open– though it looks too heavy to be opened just like that and the man stands tall before you, forearm resting against the frame, leaning his entire weight to it, eyes barely open and you don’t need to see the barely filled bottle he holds to tell he is drunk.

The scent of alcohol reeks off him just enough.

Your nose scrunches up at the smell.

Squinting his eyes at the sudden intrusion of light coming from the sun, he doesn’t acknowledge you right away.

You doubt he has noticed you.

Isn’t it a bit too early to be drinking like this already? He looks trashed, to say the least.

Then he seems to notice you, though he makes so little movement to fix his posture, the belt tied around his waist barely doing its job to hold the robe together.

Decent on the eyes, you’d have thought for the guy, if it wasn’t for the weird face paint.

Getting too far and a little too early on the halloween spirit?

“Ah…” you clear your throat and try again. “So you see, my cat was lost and–”

“Oh perfect! That’s just lovely now.” he cuts you off, quite loud too. Head thrown back, he holds a sneer. “And what, little one ? Decided to come here and accuse us?” bottle dropped on the floor, rolls off to the side, hitting to an end by the door frame. 

With both hands free, he throws them up in mockery, mimicking what you can only think to be a kid’s voice: “‘ Oh no the big bad mean satanists stole my cat and used it for their sick rituals. ’” hands dropped to his sides immediately as he is done with his imitation, he glares down at you: “Well guess what? Buzz off! As if I don’t have enough bullshit to deal with right now. Go find a more creative way to get in sherlock.” 

So they were satanists after all…

Good to know you suppose, not that you care in all honesty. The whole church-like air of the building only gets more confusing for you though.

Before he can close the door to your face, you place your palm against it to stop him. “Hey!” 

The force behind the door comes to a pause, probably didn’t expect you to fight back.

“Listen, Mr. Halloween or whatever poor Jack Skellington look you were going for.” you begin speaking, ignoring the way his face morphs into pure confusion. “How about you listen to people before barking assumptions at them?”

A moment of breath, the resistance behind the door ends completely and he opens it full again, waiting for you to continue but doesn’t seem all too happy.

“My cat likes to go outdoors and one of my neighbors said to me once that he often visits this place. So can I please come in?”

Seeing it written clear that you won’t be leaving any time soon, the guy sighs and steps aside. “Don’t touch anything and don’t leave my sight.”

Footsteps echoing in the hallways, you ‘pspsps’ here and there in hopes of your cat turning around but to no avail.

It’s only when passing a door that the guy pauses and curses to himself, you can hear the hints of an accent.

Turning to face him, he takes in your raised brow as a question.

“Copia has rats– pet rats. Your cat better be a vegan because I will not deal with his whole…” he gestures with his hand at nothing, “mourning or Sister Imperator’s reprimanding if a single one of them is missing.”

“Mr. Whiskers is a well behaving, domesticated cat with manners, thank you very much.” you say and turn your head with a huff.

Copia? Imperator? You have no idea who these guys are but you’re sure you can handle a couple of …dorky satanists, if the rest of them are just like this man baby at least.

You can always leave town before night too, if it comes down to it.

Only few steps away and the man watches as you disappear, yelling after you about ‘what did he say’ and all that bullshit but you couldn’t care any less because there he is, your precious baby!

All pulled up into a cozy little furry ball by the corner under a window, in what appears to be someone’s bedroom.

Pretty messy too.

The man seems to catch sight of you and say something he thinks is amusing, or sleek, from the tone he uses, though you pay no attention to his words or how they suddenly run dry. (‘ well if your eye on me the whole time, you didn’t need to make up an excuse about a lost c –’)

Picking up your cat despite his protests, you turn and thank him with a nod. His words register in your mind with a small delay. 

“Maybe consider tidying up your room, what are you, twelve?” and with that, you exit his warzone of a room and walk back the path you took, with Mr. Whiskers purring in your arms the entire walk home.

The second time your cat goes missing while you’re home, you know better.

Instead of wasting hours searching around, you hike up all the way to that dreaded place and knock on the door with force and impatience.

It is a woman who answers instead.

A woman who does not seem to be the slightest bit impressed.

Staring at her bored face, you take notice of her clothes you can deem as formal for the place, the sound of fabric brushing as she crosses her arms, you snap out of it, trying to formulate the words regarding your cat and and all.

Whatever thought seems to pass her mind, you conclude that she doesnt care and watch as she leaves the door open, walking back inside. So you hurriedly follow.

“Sleek, black hair you said?” she asks, still walking ahead as you nod– shit, satanist or not, she can’t have an eye at the back of her head now; letting out a hum of affirmation you fasten your steps and try to walk by her side.

Steps come to a halt before a closed door, she knocks firmly, once.

Upon receiving no answer whatsoever, she rolls her eyes and opens the door.

They must have quite the savings you think, to have a place with soundproof walls and doors. The unmistakable sound of skin slapping against skin, breathy moans and all, you wonder to yourself, couldn’t your cat have picked somewhere …normal to take his afternoon naps.

Paying the scene before her eyes no mind, the woman steps in– is that who the man referred to as Sister Imperator?, and you catch her words about grabbing the darn cat now and continuing his pity party later.

The sounds of sex stop and you can hear someone walking around all the while mumbling something.

Before you can thank the woman however, she turns and walks away.

Less than a minute later the same man from before peeks out his head through the door.

Wearing a different robe this time and doing a poor job of holding your cat, though Mr. Whiskers doesn’t seem to mind, the traitor, he watches as you take the cat from his arms.

As you turn to leave and call it a day, maybe open a bottle of wine and see where the night takes you, a ‘hey!’ catches up to you from behind.

Leaning against the door frame like he did the first time, he waits for you to face him.

“Just let me know next time your cat comes over. I doubt neither you nor Sister would like to become frequent acquaintances.” 

You eye him with a suspicious look. Sure the woman does seem like if she sees you 3 times a week or more for your cat, she might sacrifice you and Mr. Whiskers to Lucifer with her bare hands but hey, you cannot control who answers the door now.

As if sensing your train of thought, or, a part of it, he lets out a sigh, “My windows are pretty wide. Pretend they’re doors or something.”

“...right.” Sounds more and more reassuring with each word for sure, great , thank you Mr. Whiskers.

Then an after thought seems to follow as a whine can be heard from inside his room, “ Just – maybe let me know ahead before you come through the window, yeah ?”

“And I should do that, how?” you ask, wishing the whole encounter to be over “I don’t want you charging me if a stone happens to find its way in.”

From how he mumbles the words ‘charging’ and ‘stone’ confused, it seems to be taking him a while to register your words.

The implication of your words seem to dawn in as his face goes down “Last I checked, cellphones exist.” he states, not sounding too happy about the possible danger his precious windows may face. 

“And how should I know this isn’t some weird excuse to get my number?” you sound skeptical, on the edge, probably finger hovering over that dial button to the police if it wasn’t for the cat in your arms.

At your words though, he chuckles. “I do have a girl in my bed right now, you know?”

“And my question remains unchanged.” staring at him with a dead serious expression, you watch as his amused face falls, his eyes rolling and he shoves a hand down one of his pockets, taking out a pen.

Expectant eyes on you– wait, what is up with his eyes? , he pushes off the cap, shaking his left arm so the robe’s arm can slide off, revealing his skin, waiting. Waiting for you.

“You better not send me any weird crap or call-” you state then say out your phone number.

Well, worst comes to worst, you know a good lawyer.

Third time's the charm is how the saying goes. You have your doubts but perhaps there is truth to it as the man’s ridiculous window idea works.

It takes no time to figure out Mr. Whiskers spends his afternoons there because the rays of sunlight hit just right, and right next to where he sleeps is a comfortable armchair with black and white hair decorating its surface a little.

Few steps ahead of his windows, the view of a wonderful garden has attracted your attention but you know better than to ask, or enter without permission. The amount of times you’ve dropped by increases at record speed, yet the air between you both is still tight.

He lets out a warm laugh when he gets a good look at him once, but when you ask, you get no reply. Surely this cannot be the first tuxedo cat he has ever seen in his life.

One silence after another, he must've sensed how tense and awkward it feels too, as a little after he tries to make conversation and apologize.

So they are a satanic organization, that’s fine.

You’ve always wondered as a kid about the gatherings you’d see within a distance but never bothered to check for yourself.

A rock band to spread their word and message however, now that is odd. You’re starting to think their anti church might be the most normal thing to them.

Yet you remain your silence and let him speak, listen, and try to make as much sense of them as you can because god knows you won’t be leaving this place any time soon.

He says he is– was the frontman of the band, and their beloved antipope , but was dethroned , or so he claims, few days prior to your arrival.

You can understand frustration over something you have dedicated your time and effort into, and for you to be pulled off it without a logical explanation. That explains drinking until the brain shuts down despite that scent of alcohol still stings your senses.

Nodding to his words, you take his apology and leave with Mr. Whiskers that day. He asks if you’d like to see the garden the next time your legs are dangling off the windowsill.

You accept in a heartbeat.

With the weather warming up and all, your cat seems to enjoy the garden as much as you do.

Trees and flowers of all kinds tended to with care and love, you can tell. Each arranged with care, the entire place paints a beautiful picture before your eyes, and endless too.

Same as the window, this becomes a habit too. To stroll in the garden and sit on one of the stone benches, talking or staying like this in silence.

He seems fond of Mr Whiskers for reasons unknown to you, until he pulls out a photograph of someone in what you make out to be a tuxedo of sorts, on a stage no less.

The photograph is of small scale, you cannot make out much of the details, so he takes it upon himself to explain that it is indeed him in the photo and the looks of your cat caught him by surprise because of his looks.

Without waiting for a reaction, he offers to show you the outfit he wore back then, though he sounds a little melancholic about the whole thing still.

Sure , you agree, but keep it to yourself that the regency shirt and black pants look just fine on him.

It blurs at one point you begin visiting even without Mr. Whisker’s presence in his room.

Bursting out into laughter, he looks almost offended at your reaction. “I’m sorry-” your giggles break through as you wipe off a tear, “what did you say it was again?” 

“Emeritus.” he says flatly.

“Emeritus.” you repeat, this time doing a better job at containing the giggling.

“Yes, Emeritus,” he says again and adds, “The third.” 

If your laughter before was loud, this is something beyond, enough to make him go deaf in comparison.

“Okay no, I’m not calling you-”  you bring your hands up to finger quote, “Emeritus The Third.” you say in a serious tone. “And I’m certainly not calling you ‘papa’ or some bullshit title.” you cut in before he can get a word out.

“We’re going to need a nickname, what about ‘em’?”

“Em.” his tone asking ‘are you for real?’, his turn to repeat now.

“Okay no, that’s just as bad, give me some time to th-” hand covering his face, he just shakes his head with a sigh. 

“Just call me Terzo , caro mio.”

Seeing as to no reply from you comes, he removes his hand and looks up. “It means ‘ the third ’ in Italian.”

“Oh,” you manage to say, though you do sound a little different now, perhaps you thought from his reactions you hurt him and now feel sorry about that? 

“Yeah, I can do that, Terzo.” speaking with more confidence now, testing the name on your tongue, you talk more to yourself and nod your head than to him– he finds watching you act like this, how you operate and think as you talk endearing.

You find yourself liking spending time with Terzo more than you’ve realized.

Work is work, adulting is the same and sometimes relationships with friends feel dull or far away.

To say the least, he is interesting. Usually something to catch you off guard or wondering, it is guaranteed your time with him is never one to fall victim to boredom.

So he speaks of his life, of things he has done on the road and whatnot, even going as far to recreate when he tried to kick off a beach ball only to fall, basking in the waves of your laughter, even complaining to him by nighttime that your face hurts from laughing so much.

In return you feel you don’t have as exciting stories but he listens as if they’re the most wonderful things he has ever heard.

You deem them mundane and every time without a beat, he says only to you.

It comes down to, more like remembering, those scenes from when you were a kid.

He is awfully quiet that day, when you speak of seeing figures in black walking in tow, a kid or two that seemed to be your peers but how their estate in the eyes of some were off limits, and it was always at an odd time for you to be walking up there and talk with the kids.

A shame, the two of you could’ve met much earlier, yet he doesn’t voice it and you do not realize it.

Of all the things he has experienced recently, entering his room, to a bed unmade, finding you wrapped in the covers and sound asleep, would score high on Terzo’s list of things he wouldn’t expect– that is, if his brain could even muster up such a scene.

He doesn't need to, though, as it becomes real before his eyes and he makes way for the loveseat that night.

He doesn’t pry about it and all you say under your breath is that you felt lonely.

‘What about Wh-’ before he can ask, you open the covers partly to reveal that Mr. Whiskers is indeed with you, in his bed.

He just hopes the cat won’t switch his usual spot for his bed when he comes next time.

The nightly visits from you start to occur more, by the third time he knows it’ll become another constant, though not as frequent.

You do appear upset that he has to sleep on the couch, yet he waves his hand dismissively, that he doesn’t mind– he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, or cross any unnamed boundaries. Which is a little outside the usual for him, he is known for being bold, for holding and kissing hands and doing much more when he can even smell from a kilometer away the slightest of interest the other party has in him.

The next time it repeats, he is startled by a sudden noise as he makes for the couch as always. Turning on his heel only to see you patting the spot next to you in his bed.

Sure, it is a spacious bed, more than enough space for the both of you, and Mr. Whiskers, yet he still feels tense about the whole situation.

What if he wraps an arm around you or something in his sleep and you wake up angry, that he jumped into conclusions, that this wasn’t what you wanted at all and that you’ll never visit again and file a restra–

“You think too much.” 

You draw him out of his pocket sized crisis with few words and a flock on his forehead. “Keep doing that and you’ll end up with wrinkles in no time.”

What else can he do but chuckle at that and sink into sleep, safe and sound?

Wine is a skillful loosener, as the two of you rediscover together.

On days you stick around for longer, he makes his offer– though you refuse it as much as you can.

Despite dropping by unannounced after a while, you haven't walked into any intimate moments. And against your initial claim, your phone does get bombarded, usually photos of Mr. Whiskers when Terzo catches a glimpse of him, or when he thinks he is being adorable.

The latter is worse, because Terzo always finds him adorable once he warms up to the cat. The way he acts through text makes you picture him lying on the floor, hands supporting his chin, legs behind him dangling in the air, watching the unknowing cat as he sleeps or does the most mundane cat thing anyone can think of.

Neither of you are aware just how fascinating mundane is to him.

You can sense his pout from meters away.

“Okay, I’ll bite.” you put down the stacked papers. “What is it?”

Crossing his arms, he turns away partially, grumbling under his breath, “I don’t know what youre talking about.”

Getting closer to Terzo means many things, witnessing the absolute manchild that resides in him included.

Picking up your phone to turn the volume down, your eyes find his figure again– either he resembles Mr. Whiskers more than you gave them credit for or your time spent with him making you delusional. “Out with it already,” his form shrinks only further, “or no more visits from me or Mr. Whiskers.”

Now that , gets his attention.

Eyes focused somewhere near your face intentionally, he almost appears reluctant to say the words.

“How come you never listen to any of my songs?”

It takes you few seconds longer to register his words.

Before you can answer, he begins rambling, so rushed and in a whisper, all you can hear is few words in italian, which you’re sure are curses slipping his tongue and terms of endearment.

“I just… forgot?” you offer with a shrug.

Okay, maybe not the best response as this gets him to throw his arms into air, “ mio satana , you are unbelievable.” a finger pokes into your side, you haven't even realized he already crossed the distance between you both.

So he gets jealous when you listen to other musicians, huh , you save the information for future use.

As you begin laughing, he chuckles, muttering under his breath. “I guess, I’ll  have to bring a ritual to your feet.”

It goes unknown to you that Terzo semi-regularly orders cat food for Mr. Whiskers, not that the cat ever seemed to be hungry when he was there, but hey, cannot hurt to try. If the cat only decides to visit him, with you in cue, more often, now there is no harm in that.

Another thing unbeknownst to you, is that, despite the distance between their estate and your house, Terzo can spot your lights without much effort.

If he were to dramatize the entire thing between you both and more, he’d refer to it as a beacon of light. But he doesn’t need to, because there is nothing more to what it is between the two of you, even if unnamed, even when he cannot help wondering “ what if …”, wondering if he is misinterpreting things.

So when he doesn’t see the lights turn on by the night time one evening, he doesn’t care, maybe the power went out, maybe you just want to try something different for a change. He certainly doesn’t care in the morning when he sees a second figure come out of the door, or when you drop by later that evening, a throbbing headache and ‘ long day at work’ you just murmur as you fall asleep on his shoulder.

You accept the wine when you're taking another stroll in the gardens.

With the weather beginning to cool down, you welcome its warmth to your very bones.

Booze loosens your tongue first, and soon your senses, your train of thought. Whether it’s a good thing or not that you’re not the only victim… you don't know.

“Was it worth it at least?” he muses as you’re seated on the same bench, glasses sat on the ground.

You twist your face, trying to recall, “Once I tuned his voice out, yeah I guess?” he snorts at your words, “Isn’t this the usual case?” 

“Nah,” you drag the word as you reach for your glass, “He could also suck in bed. So the entire night wasn’t a waste I suppose. Never going back to that place though, I’m picky for a reason.”

You say the words more to yourself as a mantra than anything, Terzo watching you with a giggle hanging on his lips. 

“Bad drinks as well?”

“It’d be charity to call them as such, ugh,” with a sigh, you drink down the remaining half of your wine, tipping the empty glass to his direction.

Taking your glass, he switches it with his and you take no time to bring it back to your lips.

“But this?” you raise the glass, “now that is a quality product.”

With another chuckle, he reaches for the bottle and fills the empty glass in his hand.

The topic of your recent and unfortunate endeavors morph into complaining about work, people in the streets, weird posts on the internet and whatnot.

“Okay, okay,” you try to speak inbetween laughter, “so what about weird preferences when it comes to sex?”

He just gives you a teasing smirk as you place your finger on his lips as a means to shush him “we already know weird shit and food combinations the other likes, consider this a slight change of topic.”

“I’d say you’re deflecting, but alright, I’ll buy.” he shrugs, throwing his head back to drink from the bottle– the glasses cast aside an hour or so ago.

“Any kink you can think of, I’m most likely into already, so just ask me yourself.”

You bring a finger to your chin, contemplating what to say for a moment, “Socks stay on or?..” you let your voice trail off, gazing at him from the side with a smile.

Bringing a hand over his heart and another against his forehead, he faces you fully and lets out a loud gasp. “Caro mio! You wound me. I might be the antipope but I am not a lunatic!”

He opens one eye to seize your reaction, and when your gazes meet, both of you burst into laughter.

“But the face paint stays on, no?” you gesture to your face once you stop clutching your stomach.

“Everyone has a preference, tesero.” he shrugs.

Considering his position and the closest people he can find to fuck, it does add up, you suppose.

“Now enough about me, what about you ?” He leans in to you, flashing his teeth. Not letting him get to him, you snatch the bottle from his hand. 

“What about me, indeed huh? Just your basic, vanilla bullshit.” you close your eyes as you gulp down the wine.

Your comment only ignites him further, with another chuckle, he scoots closer, “You? Vanilla? I’d beg to differ,” and again, with the poking to your sides, he pleads “Don’t keep your papa waiting now.” “Okay first of all–” 

You snap your head to him, only to be nose to nose, “ Not the ‘p’ word, we went over that ages ago, not calling you that.”

“Only because you’re being such a tease,” he sing-songs, his head thrown back.

 “You are such a child,” you mumble as you place the bottle between your legs, hands gripping its neck.

“Biting, I suppose.” You can hear him open an eye and look your way, “Nothing extreme as I said, but people aren’t exactly dying to be covered in red and purple, you know?”

“No, I wouldn’t.” he answers, “their loss.”

You can sense he wants to pry further but keeps himself, and hell , the wine is good, there is another bottle waiting by his foot, and compared to the amount of black mail-level footage of him you've got, this feels like nothing.

“Taking risks.” you say in a whisper, partially hoping he doesn’t hear.

“Now, this falls vague, bella.” he says. “Risks of conceiving, catching STDS–” he begins counting with a finger,

“ No ! I said risks , not being an idiot.” You cut in, a hand covering your face.

You know he is waiting with that smug smirk, “risks of getting caught, like, dunno , semi public spaces and the likes?” you ask more than speak, meeting his gaze as you finish speaking.

“So that’s where the biting comes,” he speaks in a knowing tone, “leaving telltale marks blooming everywhere?” he muses as his hand begins to move, finger grazing against your skin.

“Like this?” he asks, hand going up and drawing patterns on your thigh, slowly going up, his eyes gauging your expression. 

“...yeah” you say in a breath, letting his hand reach the inner side of your thigh. A finger flicks against the bottle, drawing out a trembling note, making your eyes flash though all your times here, you never saw anyone else in the gardens.

The bottle has long gone warm but his hand feels cold against your leg, you’re aware of his eyes locked on your face yet make no haste to draw yours away from the plants up ahead.

His hand begins to travel upwards, making way to fiddle with the hem, going under and his skin meeting yours.

Before he can do anything further however, you both jolt with the sudden noise coming from behind, between the windows.

“Cazzo!” he mutters and gets up, making way to enter his room through the windows.

While waiting for him, you go for the other bottle, pouring yourself some more wine, at least with a glass, you can keep count.

Pausing to listen around, you hear the commotion has died down.

Picking up the other glass and hoisting the empty bottle under your arm, you make way for the stained glass windows you’ve grown familiar with over the course of time.

Terzo doesn't seem to pay much mind to the interruption though, the conversation picks up from where it left, now talking in a more general sense.

“You give off vibes of someone who’d make a sex playlist,” you begin as he listens with a nod, “ and add your songs to it.”

“As I said gioia, everyone has their preferences.” he reaches to take the bottle from you, not expecting your arm to draw back, “yet I cannot help but be upset,” he sheds a nonexistent tear, “that you think my thrust game is so weak.”

Seeing as you freeze at his words, he takes a step to you, grabbing the bottle from your hand with a smile and places it down, not stepping back afterwards. “If you want a demonstration though, I am always happy to help.” 

As if your silence was anything to go by, now it is deafening, the warmth and flush of your skin; you’re unsure if the cause is alcohol or him .

“And I did promise a demonstration of my songs to you before, didn’t I?” he says as he takes another step your way.

“So you see, we got this fan favorite song, Mummy Dust,” he speaks while pretending to be interested in the ceiling, gesturing with a hand in the air, “but not because of the lyrics.” he remarks with a smug expression, redirecting his gaze to you as he takes another step, barely any space left separating the two of you.

You’re unsure what to say or do, when left alone in a room with a bunch of people wearing identical masks.

You think, Terzo must’ve pulled a rope here and there, or acted in secrecy considering his sudden drop of position in the band, to have gotten into this studio– and bringing you no less.

The people he referred to as Nameless Ghouls stare at you, and you back at them. You can imagine the confusion they must be going through.

Then the man of the hour reappears with a clap of hands, dressed up in an outfit resembling a suit, and his previous remark at Mr. Whiskers suddenly comes back to you, finally making sense.

A concert– or a ritual, as he put it, he promised and one he delivers.

A ghoul begins playing his guitar in sync with the drums, as two of them walk to stand at their both sides and with a sudden stomp of foot, they all play in, in a fashion you can describe as ‘ knocking the wind out of your lungs .’

Only when Terzo’s singing, and soon the instruments coming to a stop that you realize you've been holding your breath the whole time. And quickly find out you may as well die due to lack of oxygen by the time the day comes to an end if they only keep up this momentum.

One song after another, they captivate you gradually. Be it the way the ghouls play or the way Terzo moves as he sings, radiating with energy. Walking around and messing up with one another, bothering each other at times– it all creates the illusion of a found family.

Briefly moving his hand, the ghouls pick acoustic guitars once another song comes to an end.

After each song he tells its name and some information– or funny memories he finds important you know.

With a signal of his hand, the ghouls switch to acoustic guitars and Terzo begins humming: “a one, a two, three, and four.“ 

With a move of his hand, they all enter the song.

One hand in a fist, resting against his hip and the other in front of him, he sways his hips softly as he sings.

It doesn’t miss your attention how some of his moves arent as innocent or random as they seem– when he brings his other hand to join the stray one, hoisting them up in the air as if holding something, or how after he holds the microphone with one hand and violates the poor stand with his fingers. Hands thrown into the air and shaking in the air as a ta-da once in a while, he takes a step back to point at one of the ghouls’ playing.

The song comes to an end and you think you’ve done good so far– then he decides to announce that the song is called Jigolo Har Meggido and you burst into laughter, leaving the men in the room utterly confused.

It takes several minutes for you to gather yourself, wipe away the tears all the while ignoring Terzo hovering over you with concern, unsure whether to approach you or leave you be in your violent laughter.

“I’m sorry-” your words die in your throat as another wave of laughter takes over again, “it’s just-” hand clutching over your stomach, you do your best to look up, “you do re-”, meeting his face only makes you laugh again.

A tap on your shoulder distracts you a little. Taking the water bottle one of the ghouls have brought to you, in your frenzy you didn’t even realize him leaving, you take a few sips to calm your nerves.

“I know you’re flirty and all, but witnessing you calling yourself a manwhore caught me off guard.” 

Definitely not something worth laughing to that extent over, Terzo doesn’t say a word and instead flashes you a toothy grin.

“You’d be surprised to hear it was his brother who wrote this song.” you hear someone say, the same ghoul from before.

“Ah!” Terzo waves a hand dismissively in the air, “enough talk of that geezer. Now , what do you say to a grammy winning original?” 

The ghouls slowly begin as Terzo walks back, their eyes on him and his hands, watching every move and tilt, following his guidance. Compared to the other songs they’ve played so far, this one comes off much softer, gentler, making you wonder what will come next.

Raising both hands in the air as if in praise, the ghouls all stop and silence takes over, waiting, and with his signal, they enter the song, picking up stronger than where they left off.

The melody matches the lyrics somewhat, the impression of a thunder, it builds up and carries smoothly.

He begins singing what you assume to be the second verse, drawing closer to you at a steady pace. His voice becomes the only thing you hear as the instruments falter and die out, quietening one by one. The microphone now held in his left, his right hand reaches out to hold yours, bringing it up near his face as he keeps singing: “ Can't you see that you're lost without me?”

And with it, they all reenter the song with a bang, your hand still in his, Terzo kisses the back of it in between lyrics and steps back to his initial position.

Drumming his fingers in the air, swaying them at the direction of either of the ghouls, they all circle around the keyboard playing ghoul as the song shifts into an instrumental part.

Eyes never leaving theirs, especially not his, not when he makes sure to lock his with you, you watch the entire performance almost in a trance, mind going blank.

When the song ends, you can see his expectant looks on you, already beaming with whatever compliment he’s positive you’ll be giving him.

So you decide to pick the teasing route. 

“It was nice.” he stares at you, his face clearly showing he wasn’t waiting to hear that. “Nice?..”

Humming in affirmation, you nod your head. “Yeah, nice.” tilting your head to the side, you speak up, “ Say , this helps you get some?” 

The man stands there, blinking at you for what feels like eternity.

The ghouls in a similar stance, though you’re sure you’ve heard one of them snort, and another snicker.

The eternity ends with a shake of his head and a faint smile on his face. “Yes, sorella , it helps me …get plenty actually.” he uses your phrase.

“Well,” he clicks his tongue as he places the microphone back to its place, “if it’s a …meretricious song you desire, how about I give you,” his pace of speaking slows down, as if holding his breath, waiting for imaginary drum rolls: “Mummy Dust!” He drags the words in a low grumble, shaking his hands in the air once again.

From how he starts swaying and moving his hips, you immediately recognize the song.

As Terzo begins singing, the sound of a door opening and clicking close reach your ears and when you twist halfway in your seat, you see a man with pencil stache dressed up in black, his hat partially resembling a bat, same painted eyes and upper lip like Terzo yet lacking the rest of the face paint.

The man stills in place when he sees you, only gets his feet to move again when you pat the vacant spot near you.

Whispering greetings back and forth, you immediately remember his name.

“Ah you’re the Cardinal!” Your voice comes out a tad more excited than expected. The man on the other hand seems confused as to how you know him already.

“How are your rats? Happy, I hope. I am so sorry, I never got the chance to apologize to you or to them because of Mr. Whiskers.” The words leave your lips in a breath, leaving the man dumbfounded, repeating your cat’s name in confusion and unaware, 

“ah, I-, my most sincere apologies, who?..”

“Mr. Whiskers, my cat, didn't Terzo t- oh.” Unfortunately the mention of a cat before you can stop makes his eyes go wide, and you try your best to assure him that your cat didnt even set foot into his room, somewhat calming the anxious man down.

The music on the other hand, as well as the singing, gets louder and a tad more aggressive. 

Probably unhappy with how your attention was led somewhere other than him. So needy and grumpy, spoiled like a cat.

“Uh, we can save our discussing for after the song?” Cardinal suggests, to which you nod. “I'd hate to impose on this- uh, special performance his excellency was displaying for you.” He says, coughing on his words at the way Terzo moves.

“Its alright Cardinal. I was given a demonstration of this song already, I am not missing out on anything.”

Again, you must’ve said something wrong, because instead of relaxing, the Cardinal’s face tenses up and goes bright red.

“ Oh !” You wince, “poor choice of words on my behalf. That's not what I meant.” You try to offer an explanation with a sheepish smile, but to no avail. 

At least Terzo looks quite pleased with the interaction, as clear from the smug expression taking over his face.

The previous incident– goes unaddressed between the two of you but the air between doesnt waver.

Still, it must have triggered some sort of change, you conclude, as Terzo’s texting habits only evolve into a different stage.

Sure, it went for quite a while that the initial purpose of exchanging numbers was abandoned yet he still possessed control, a sense of self restraint, when texting you.

Definitely the absolute opposite of whatever it is going on as of now.

Maybe you’ve spoiled him too much, your brain reaches another conclusion as the lips on your skin snap that thought in the middle, pulling you back into reality.

You still don’t visit him as regular as to say daily, or even biweekly– so you hold onto the benefit of doubt that he has absolutely no way of knowing youre busy trying to have a nice night, focused on pleasure and the feeling of euphoria–

Another vibrating sound against your nightstand cuts into the air, your sceeen lightning up right after.

You ignore it only so far until you find yourself scrolling and typing up a reply, the light coming from the screen reflecting against you and the man you’ve forgotten about already.

As you smile at his newest text, hearing that stupid whining of his voice and the pout, someone next to you clears his throat, snapping you back.

“Anything I should know about?” He only asks and in all honesty , you cannot blame the guy. You’d have reaches into equally ugly assumptions, were this to happen to you.

But it didnt, and it isn’t right now, so its only a little too late that you put yourself in his shoes.

“Nope.” You say, walking up to your bookshelf and placing the phone screen down, “just a friend.”

The guy hums, sounding skeptical but doesn't pry.

You give him the benefit of the doubt but few too many repeats and you know it's intentional.

You did spoil him too much it seems.

Another afternoon by his side, you're sitting on the window sill, one leg tucked under yourself, he is busy on the other side of the room, who knows what he is preparing this time.

“Wine?” he turns on his heel, holding a glass and the bottle’s neck tilted slightly already. 

“None for me, thank you.” 

Eyebrows raised in curiosity, a scheming expression takes over. “Ooh? Any plans for tonight?” He inquires. You don’t need to know that he is dreading the confirmation that'll leave your lips. 

“I guess,” you shrug, turning to look outside the window, “promised Steve we’d spend the night together.”

Heavy silence spreads from your words and takes over the room. 

The teasing remarks signature to his natural charm never comes and you turn your head to see if he even heard you in the first place… or left the room before you spoke… or somehow passed out in silence as you spoke.

Your worries ease upon seeing him standing there, still, not even a muscle moved from his last position, unreadable eyes staring at you.

Only when you tilt your head towards, asking ‘what’s wrong?’ and only then he snaps out of whatever trance he was in, coughs and tried to laugh it off with a ‘ have fun’ , pouring himself a glass.

Unbelievable.

Discreetly taking a sip from his wine to distract himself doesn't do much to ease him and the now unimpressed look you're giving him makes even the wine taste bitter on his tongue. 

“Wh-“ “you are unbelievable.”

Okay, you don't just seem pissed, disappointed?, something definitely negative; you sound like it too.

“For wishing my friend a fun night?” And with a guy he has never heard you mention before– the word friend stings to say. “I’m sure Steve is a good gu-“ “ Again,” you dont let him finish, “you are unbelievable, absolutely childish and overall a great idiot.”

Okay now you're just being mean. A scowl makes its way to his face before he can even notice, making you shake your head in disbelief like a mother scolding her kids with a smile.

“If youre done with the insults cara,” he says and raises his glass, appearing pissed and upset as he downs the glass.

“Terzo, you met Steve.” His head snaps up at your words. “Steve?“ you repeat in question, “Steve Whiskers?” ‘ ring any bells? ’ He can hear you say in following–

The faint smile of yours slowly evolve in a giggle as you watch the gears turn in his head and finally connect the two and two together.

“The cat?!” His voice comes out louder than he meant to, suddenly straightening up and wiping invisible dust off his clothes, he clears his throat. 

“Excuse me for my sudden input of volume.” You reply with a smile, “Send my best regards to Mr. Whiskers.”

You see the ghouls around few more times you're in the perimeter, as well as the scary woman from before.

Sitting in the gardens with Terzo again one warm afternoon and she passes in the distance, her eye catching sight of you no doubt.

Jumping in your stead, you rush to where she is. Terzo watches as you speak with more animatic gestures, Sister remaining stoic as always. You bring a hand up to scratch your head in unease, then holding out a box of sorts. As you are about to turn, he sees your body beam , most likely at something Sister has said as she walks away.

You pattle back to where he waits, trying to contain a big smile and pulling out few cookies from behind in surprise. Just as he does with anything else you offer, he devours the cookies, making sure to express his gratitude and worship before and after.

You settle back next to him, laughing at the way he acts as he ignores the crumbs on his thighs, resting your head against his shoulder and relaxing.

Yet you never tell him what it was Sister Imperator has said to you that got you in high spirits; not then, not later.

When you wake up with the sunlight grazing your face from the wrong direction, your first instinct is to return to sleep.

Having falling asleep by Terzo's side a reasonable amount of times now, it feels just as comfortable as your room. Despite his chest not being as soft as your pillow, the comfort of his mattress easily beating yours makes up for the loss.

Just as a content smile makes its way to your lips and you, more than eager to return to sleep, the situation of now sinks in and you can feel the warmth drain from your entire body.

Sure, this is not the first time you've found yourself falling asleep here, even in his arms, limbs tangled up no less; but all those instances contain one huge difference from the predicament you find yourself in now and it is last night.

Maybe you should pretend to stay asleep until he is summoned for anything, but the chances of this are dangerously slim. The light coming from between the curtains doesn't burn into your eyes just yet so it must still be fairly early, maybe you can sneak out before he can return from the land of dreaming. But that'd would leave bigger problems for future you and frankly? future you has gotten sick of your 'dancing around with nothing acknowledged' bullshit.

You take a deep breath, and shut your eyes further– hey perhaps they'll glue themselves together from how tight your muscles are contracting and with your sudden admittance to the hospital and the emergencu of the entire situation, it'll all get forgo–

A sudden noise stops your entire thought process crashing. A trainwreck, yes that's what this is.

Sucking a sharp breathe in, you think 'now or never', suck it up once and face on with courage.

Creaking one eye open and meeting Terzo's eyes on yours, every single muscle in his face loosened and his expression what you can only describe as to be 'at peace', all your anxiety from bare seconds ago gets washed down the drain. 

And for the first time in a long while, you allow yourself to relax, fully, and bask in whatever the future– and he, along with it, will offer you.

[onepiece-polls]

One Piece Shipping War - Semi-Finals!

KidKiller art by @anj-does-stuff. Check out the full art and original post here!

Propaganda under the cut.

Propaganda for Franky x Robin:

Do I really need to explain?

The old married couple who's healthy, Enies Lobby (and all their appearances) are their propaganda really.

It’s all about the maturity!

Their dynamic is perfect and their pasts are so similar. I love the chemistry between them as well as their introduction that helped build the connection and shared history they already have.

they are THE t4t bi4bi ship | franky telling robin "existing is not a crime" immediately puts this at number one for me | they are opposites (bright and loud + quiet and goth) but also they're both so eccentric and silly <3 | THEY WEAR MATCHING OUTFITS

Mom and dad Straw Hat

They are STILL the Mom and the Dad of the Straw Hats, this is the one thing I don't care what Oda says <3 Also their interactions in Enies Lobby and Thriller Bark are amazing.

In my eyes, they are married. Some of my favorite character interactions in the manga/anime and in official art.

Oda had Franky call Robin his wife at least once

Your honor they’re married

I'M GOING TO PUT LINKS IN MY EXAMPLES (Mod note: I linked to the whole post, the propaganda was going to get too long otherwise. But I will copy this line:...) They immediatly clicked in Enies Lobby, Franky saved Robin with both words and actions ("Your existence is not a sin!"), and then she grabbed his balls.

The duality of two kids who were just trying to chase their dream and having circumstances outside their control (the government) take everything they love away from them, but one choosing solitude and the other adopting every other person in a bad circumstance??? I love them. Plus they literally had couple moments from the first interaction.

The ultimate t4t couple idk what else you need theyre iconic

A wholesome ship of a woman who feels the need to be constantly on edge trying to relax and a man who is a 110% himself from the moment we see him. the joy of frobin is the causal domesticity, in many color spreads and especially post timeskip we can see them casually enjoying the others company.

Remember when Franky was in Chopper's body in Punk Hazard and every time he spoke Robin was like "Franky. Stop talking. Do not talk while you're in Chopper's body."

idk like. he's obsessed with her. she's his weird Goth gf and he's her himbo. they have matching outfits. I love them.

Look. It's Franky and Robin. Literally the only two characters that make sense to ship on the Sunny. Their arcs are inextricably intertwined (water7/enies lobby). Also LOOK AT THEM interacting, both during their arcs, but also thriller bark, or post time skip. I love them. Also robin crushed frankys balls.

funny big robot man & analytical smart research lady power couple... silly x smart... himbo x researcher... augh... so good

They are the ship for taxpaying adults your honor I LOVE them they’re literally freak4freak and they share such a fucking powerful arc together (Water 7).

that moment she let him sleep on her lap in punk hazard was sooo cute <3 -- The matching thigh highs and bottoms in film z can NOT be understated. -- Strawhat mom and dad -- Let's not forget the way robin convinced franky to join ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) -- she also indirectly called his balls "treasure" so,,, -- the way their stories are so closely intertwined...they were both keys to destroy the world...the way they instantly connected over that...the soulmate-ism of it all...

they . them. girlboss and malewife. that's it.

She grabbed his balls. He totally liked it.

He's so silly and she loves it. She's so scary and he loves it. She grabbed his balls in public.

They will be endgame trust me. Franky doesn't treat any other girl like he treats Robin. There dynamic in Water 7 and Thriller Bark was and always will be one of the best in all of OP.

Propaganda for Kid x Killer:

The loyalty, the way they praise each other, their past, the aesthetic, Kid's reaction to seeing Killer with a SMILE in Wano, the fact the Kid's hobby is listening to music while Killer's is playing the drums, they are made for one another.

That sweet sweet captain/first mate loyalty…can’t be beat

Killer and kids are cannonicly ride or die

Murder couple, captain x first mate will always have special place in my heart, childhood friends bonus, love that they're just unashamedly bastards together and separately

OMG they care so much for each other!!! Kid called Killer his partner! They are mates for life! 💕

Child. Hood. Best. Friends. You want more? *cracks knuckles* Growing up beside one another, calling one another partner, only ever seeing Kid crying and losing his hard head persona when it involves Killer, Killer calming down after being reunited with Kid for a bit, KILLER KNOWING WHERE - down to the centimetre- TO CUT HAWKINS’ ARM SO HE DOESN’T HARM KID!!! THE!!! CENTIMETRE!!! That’s some intimate level of knowledge right there!

[yanderelovlies]

Home sweet home

Fandom: DachaBo

Character: Bo

Au: medieval

Pairing: Bo x Male!Reader

TW: monster fucking for sure, the mentions of Knot, and doing it outdoor totally not a last minute thing

Note: Are there boxers in medieval times?? idk there is now, lmao. If it's bad, tell me nicely, please 👀

You had always enjoyed nature. It made you feel at peace, so when you got old enough to live out on your own. You left your village choosing to live in a secluded home in the Forrest.

Sure, it was a longer ride to a nearby village for certain things, but you didn't mind. You enjoyed always spotting something new on your way there and back.

However, there were downsides to living so far from the village. For example, there was no one to help you when a hulking blond man breaks down your door looking frantic.

The two of you stared at each other for a couple of seconds until something in the man snapped as he quickly made his way inside, trying to fix the door the best he could before Turing to you. "Hide me, please!"

"What?!"

The man sighed as if he was more irritated by the situation than you. "Hide me, please. I swear I will explain everything to you later, and even compensate you , but please... Help me."

Maybe it was the big puppy dog eyes he was giving you or the empath in you, but ultimately, you agreed with a sigh. "O-okay...umm..The attic!" You quickly got out of bed making your way to the back of the house. You jumped up, reaching for the handle of the hatch. Once open, you grabbed your nearby ladder, leaning it against the entrance. "Go hurry."

Not needing to be told twice, the man quickly made his way up the ladder. Once it was moved again and the door to the attic quietly clicked, a rough knock could be heard on your door.

Trying to make yourself look tired, you made your way to the door. Letting out a yawn as you opened the door. In front of you stood and armored man a gun strapped to his back.

"Good evening, sir. My friends and I are here on a hunt for a....creaton. By order of the Queen. You haven't, by chance, seen or heard anything, have you?"

You squinted at the man as if trying to focus your eyes "Well seeing how I just woke up. No. Not till you came pounding on my door."

The man glared at you yet kept a steady voice, trying not to show his irritation too much. "Well, it could still have gotten inside. They are nasty vermin like that."

You raised an eyebrow at this. "What are you hunting."

The man hesitated for a moment before trying to look behind you. "Is there child and wife here?" You shook your head, clearly confused. "Good. Don't want to scare them." His eyes turn back to you, clearly sizing you up. "We are hunting a werewolf. The bastard tried to blend in with the nearby village. He would have gotten away with it if he didn't slip up."

"Slip up?"

He nodded. "He told one of the local his identity, and like the good citizen of the queen. they repeated him."

"I see....Well, like I said, I was asleep, so I didn't see or hear anything." You grabbed the edge of the door slowly moving it to close it. "Good Night and all the luck to you sir."

Before the door could close, the man moved his boot, effectively blocking it. "May we have a look around. Just in case."

Sighing, you opened the door further standing to the side. "By all means."

It took them a few minutes to inspect your place before he headed back to the door. "Well... It looks like everything here is fine." He turned back to you a scowel on his face. "Don't forget that thing is still out there, and the only thing that will kill it is silver." He holds out his hand, waiting for you to open your hand. He places five silver bullets in your hand before turning to leave without another word.

It was silent for a few minutes before you could hear slightly rustling upstairs, followed by the door opening and a thud.

The man found his way to you a big grin on his face. "Are they gone? are we safe?"

You turned to him with a glare, "a werewolf?" You seethed cluching the bullets given to you tightly.

The man seemed to deflate at the statement as he slowly turned to you. "um yeah...H-how about we start with names first! I'm Bo! it's nice to meet youuuu...."

"y/n"

Bo smiled wide, his blue eyes sparkling. "y/n....what a nice name." He sighed in an almost dream like state before cleared your throat. He blinked before looking away. "r-right the werewolf thing. Yes, I am one."

"Why were you in the village?"

His eyes met yours again this time, sorrow present. "Do you know how lonely this life is? Everyone is scared of you and runs away without so much as a goodbye. I want to be around people."

Your expression softened at his explanation. It makes sense. "I see... I'm sorry, Bo."

His smile returned this time sadder than before, "I'll find my pack someday, I'm sure..."

You looked down, feeling guilty. You knew what it was like, just trying to find your place in life. That's how you ended up in the woods in the first place. "You can stay for awhile. At least until the hunters move on."

You watched him perk up again, and if he had a tail, you knew he would be wagging it. "Really?! you don't mind?"

You nodded, giving him a small smile of your own. "I don't mind as long as you don't mind sharing the chores."

He nodded vigorously "of course!"

.

It has been a couple of days since that arrangement, and you have learned about the former stranger turned friend. Bo seemed to find joy in the mundane. Even doing dishes put a big smile on his face. You found it adorable.

You also learned a bit about him. His life before he was turned, and then a bit after. His feelings always seemed mixed when he talked about his life after the bit. He enjoyed the power it gave him but hated the isolation.

Everything seemed to be going fine until he came to you fidgety. "Hey puppy, I'm gonna have leave for a bit."

You raised a brow at him. "Have the hunters lef"

"n-not entirely they are still scouting, but....It's a full moon tonight....I don't trust myself around you...I don't want to hurt you."

Your eyes widened. You had nearly forgotten about such night. Living with him felt like living with a normal human, not a werewolf. "W-well..can't we put you in the attic?"

"It would be too easy to break the floor beneath me." He sighs."I must leave... I promise I will come back in the morning...if you allow me."

You walked closer to him "Your always welcome here, Bo."

He smiles at you. "Good night, puppy."

"Good night, Bo." He stood there as if contemplating. Before closing the gap between you kissing your forehead. Before you could respond, he was out the door without another word.

.

That night, it was hard to sleep knowing Bo wasn't there. In the past few days, you have grown attached to the overgrown puppy. Maybe it was because you had been alone for so long, but you enjoyed spending every day by his side.

As your eyes slowly began to fall, a loud knock could be heard from your door. Begrudgingly, you got out of bed, making your way to the door. You slowly opened the door, revealing the hunter from nights before.

"What can I-" You were cut off by the man forcing open the door, causing you to stumble and fall to the floor.

Before you could get up, the man placed his armored boot on your chest, effectively keeping you in place. "There is the traitor himself." He sneered down at you, putting a little more pressure on your chest. "Where is your pet, hm?!

"ngh, I-I don't have one-"

With another sneer, the man put half of his body weight on his foot on your chest, making pain spread through your abdomen. "I would advise you not to lie to me or else you might find your ribs through your heart."

You could fear along with pain wrack through your body. You knew this man would keep his word, but you couldn't bring yourself to out Bo. He had already been through so much. So you kept your mouth shut only, managing to glare at the man while moving your sweaty hands to his armored boot, attempting to keep as much pressure as you could off of you.

The man rolled his eyes at your defiance. "Shame."

You continued to glare, bracing yourself for the pain when a monstrous growl could be heard at the door. A blonde blur hit the man, hitting the floor not too far from you with a loud thud.

snarls, growls, and cries could be heard as you stared at the ceiling trying to catch your breath. Truthfully, you were a little scared to look. Bo's warning ringing through your head.

A few minutes passed before it was silent. You tried to quiet your breathing. Hoping and praying to whatever God was listening that this wouldn't be your last night.

You heard a whine before Bo's now rough and deep voice cuts the silence. "Please don't be afraid, puppy. I won't hurt you."

You hesitantly turn your head towards him. The large blonde bipedal wolf's back was facing you his head turned so you could only see his now blood-stained maw followed by sad blue eyes. "Protect Mate....never hurt."

Your eyes widened "m-mate?"

Bo fully turned to giving you a full view of his blood-stained front before he went down low, trying to make himself look small nodding. " Your sent calls me. could smell the fear and pain. Came to protect."

All you could do was stare as you tried to piece together what was happening. Was this a confession? The thought of it made your heart race.

A light repeated thud could be heard behind Bo as his tail began to wag. "This excites, mate?" You watched him inch closer the strong metal smell of blood now, invading your nose more than ever.

You sat up wincing. "W-wait, Bo." Bo's tail stopped wagging as his ears went back, and all his movement stopped. "The...blood." Bo was confused at first, tilting his head. "Look, if you want to... talk about this more. You need a bath, and" You tried to look behind him, but his now larger form easily concealed the scene behind him. "That...mess needs to be cleaned too."

.

After a bit of labor, the two of you found yourselves at the lake trying to scrub out the blood from his blond fur. You originally hadn't planned on joining Bo in the water, yet here you were running your fingers through the fur on his muscular chest.

Your mind began to wonder about the events of earlier. He called you mate. You had heard the term a few times before, but never in this context. You weren't sure how you felt about this context. Bo, even now, wasn't a bad looking man. You would be lying if you said you hadn't admired him from afar before. something about him just demanded your attention, and you didn't mind giving it to him. Living with Bo wasn't so bad either. He always helped out the chores, taught you few hunting tricks, and even managed to make you smile on the worst of days. Maybe you wouldn't mind being Bo's mate.

As your mind wondered on the subject, Bo had bent his head licking the area where your neck and shoulder meet. "mate..." Blinking, you look up at Bo questioningly.

In silent response, Bo wrapped his arm around you, pressing your body against his own. You could feel something warm and hard grow between you two, making your face turn red. You tried to keep your eyes up, but the more you felt it, the more you wanted to look. "Need mate...please."

It took you a few minutes to give it some thought before eventually agreeing, causing Bo to separate from you. You looked at him questioningly before watching him seat himself at the shallow part of the lake, his large dick lightly slapping his abdomen as he roughly sat.

Without instructions, you made your way stopping just in front of him. Before you could say or do anything, Bo's clawed hand wrapped around your writs, pulling you on top of him.

With you now sitting in his lap, you could feel big he is. His member almost reached the middle of your back. You were gonna speak your concerns when Bo bucked his hips with a growl as he leaned over his muzzle, going to the crook of your neck. He let out another low growl before using his claws to tear off the boxers you had left on when bathing the beast.

You watched as the rements of your boxers float behind you as you turned back to Bo with a whine. "Bo...do you know how hard it was to get those?"

Bo huffed, pulling away from your neck. "Later. Need mate now." Without any more words, Bo places his claws on your waist, lifing you up as if you weight nothing. Before slowly lowering you down.

You could feel the head of Bo's dick at your entrance making your heart race. His whole being shook as he began to enter you slowly.

Using the water he still sat in as a sort of lube allowed him to enter you easier, but due to him not preparing you and his size, Bo was careful. He didn't want to hurt you. So, despite his instincts yelling at him, to breed you and uses your body as his own personal toy, he held back. Stopping midway down to allow you to adjust to his size.

Even part way filled you with both pain and pleasure. You had never used anything bigger than your fingers, so to suddenly have a dick of Bo's size stretch you felt a bit much yet so deliciously full.

Bo waited as long as he could before his instincts eventually took over. With his claws still on your waist, he roughly pulls you down, completely filling you. Your back arches, making your chest meet his as your head flew back with a strangled moan.

With cautious slow movements, Bo began to move you up and down, almost unaware of your moans a pleas. "So soft... tight and warm...my good mate." Bo practically purred as his muzzle once again found its way to the crook of your neck where he began to lick, nibble, and leave more marks.

You appreciated the cautious slow thrusts, but eventually, you wanted more. So you began to squirm in his hold with moan "Bo...more! please!"

You watched as Bo's ears perked up with the request. Not needing any more encouragement, Bo moved away from you lifting you fully of his cock before slamming you back down making setting a brutal pace.

All you could do was moan, whine, and babble as Bo used your body as he saw fit. Your dick bouncing in rhythm with his thrusts. Your voice was slurred as you begged, for you didn't even know. You just knew you wanted more, and only Bo could provide.

It wasn't long till you could feel something large at your already stretched hole, making your heart race. "B-bo?!"

"Knot.. for mate"

"Knot?!" Before you could an explanation, you were slammed down on the Knot as it entered with squelch and splash of the water around you.

The pleasure and pain made you see white as you cam hard all over the front of yourself and Bo. At the same time, you could feel warmth began to enter you as Bo emptied himself in you as if trying to breed you.

The waters still as you slumped forward, trying to catch your breath. Bo pulled you close as he laid his head on top of yours. " soft warm mate.."

You tried to keep your eyes open unsure what will happen to you if you didn't, but eventually sleep took over as everything turned to black.

.

When you woke next, you were back in bed with the smell of blood still faint as sunlight greeted your eyes. You tried to move, but when you budged, you heard a whine behind you as the arm you now notice tightens around your abdomen.

"You should rest puppy..." You felt yourself relax at Bo's voice as he nuzzled the top of your head. "I can take care of things....later. Right now, it's time for rest."

You laid still for a bit, contemplating you should. However, as soon as you moved your leg again to readjust, you could feel the pain of last night activities rush from your ass down to your legs. "Okay....yeah." You leaned back into Bo, closing your eyes, letting sleep take you once again.

You loved living in the isolated Forrest, but maybe it would be so bad to have Bo around.

[fountainpenguin]

Zombiewood, my beloved...

Man... thinking about how much I love Double Life Martyn & his interactions with Cleo again. There is... so much silliness going on there. Legit, they can barely hold a conversation without giggling. And the drama... Just existing together under the drama umbrella makes them fantastic story material. 10/10 soulmate pair.

Martyn's terrible game show flop. Devastating. Him getting in a fistfight with Cleo at the end of it. That little fast-paced vent he does while ranting to Jimmy about how Cleo is really into building bridges with Scott but not him, which pitches up into a scream. I love how 'into character' he gets there; it's so good...

The entire hilarity of Martyn building a giant heart in front of Cleo in an attempt to win her back, which she loathes and ignores while he spends the series fighting with the HOA for the right to keep it. Everyone constantly yells at him for dropping their property value. All he wants is Cleo's attention and Cleo just... is not impressed. so funny.

"It's small, but it's enough. Just like me." - Martyn, what??

The way Martyn builds his base "in Cleo's front yard." That's so nuts. From an in-universe perspective, I love that swivel from denial and anger in Episode 1 to bargaining in 2.

So many good tidbits throughout their 5-episode relationship... Martyn peeping at Cleo through his spyglass at night and muttering "She seems safe; she seems happy; she seems healthy" before zooming in all "Wait, she has to use the furnace OUTSIDE?? Take it inside! Look, he's ruining you!" Like... Okay, Martyn.

"This is all her fault, 100%!!" He's a needy, angry man grasping at straws. I love dumb roleplay drama. Ugh, the commitment to the bit is so glorious. What a great arc.

The way Martyn thoroughly convinces himself that Scott's the shoulder devil who swayed Cleo away from him, so he shows up to speak his mind ("We can be real, proper soulmates, but right now you're being really selfish. You let him speak in your ear! You let him tell you that I was off not caring about my soulmate! I was providing!" and Cleo hits him with "Martyn... I was the one who brought it up first."

Just... idk, the way he freezes right then is great. The "emotional damage" clip he plays right then just makes it for me. That right there is the moment that Character Martyn splinters. It's so good. And yet he doesn't give up?? astounding.

I really enjoy how Pearl took the divorce quartet situation and spun it into clingy 'crazy ex' roleplay with Scott, and Martyn went the complete opposite route and tried to woo Cleo over with grandiose gestures of affection, really playing up the "I'm a provider; I didn't want to show up emptyhanded" angle. They were so different in how they handled the break-up and I still think that's cool. They did such a good job. Fantastic season.

Martyn: I care about us! I bring the skill; you bring the vibes- That's what I was signing up for! Cleo: If you look at it this way- You don't have to watch out for me. I've got somebody else who's willing to lay down their life for me.

Like??

Martyn wants someone he can share affection with. Cleo wants stability and trust. The whole "This is better for both of us" is so good... Hilarious.

The part that really makes it for me is Martyn starting to protest "So this is what we're doing?" and Cleo softly shushes him, just like "Shhh... They're coming over."

They kick off a secret alliance they don't discuss in public... Cleo apologizing for misjudging him and extending a hand. Martyn playing the part of jealous lover who's got an open door waiting for him if he'll meet her halfway, which he can choose to do at any time if he swallows his pride... It's SO GOOD... What a set-up!

Martyn & Cleo, my beloveds... Where else can I find the goofy 'jealous ex with a flair for art and drama' + 'Annoyed ex who moved on with their life and got a new partner and a home' health-sharing soulmate combo with this much commitment to the anger and grief and forgiveness and regret... They're great.

Martyn: I don't know where I stand with her. She sort of seems to be looking out for me but absolutely wants nothing to do with me. It's all very confusing... and maybe Cleo will come back to me one day.

Well, I've got good news and bad news, boss...

Cleo giving Martyn a heart-to-heart and he quietly wanders back to his base, turns to look at them, and tells the audience "Maybe me and Cleo are more on the same page than I initially thought" while in Cleo's POV a moment later, she's like "Look, sometimes you just have to speak to him in a way he'll understand" [gameplay strats] ??? slkdjf

Cleo sending Martyn on his way with his first diamonds of the series to craft a sword with... the "Don't die" / "I promise; I'll do us proud- Don't you worry" / "[Sigh]... Do yourself proud" exchange just kills me. Martyn swivels to his softer 'serious roleplay voice' to 'pledge loyalty' to her and Cleo just Is Not Having It With Him and shuts that down so fast.

Cleo: You don't need to worry about me. I've got my partner. Martyn to the audience, so Cleo can hear: She's saying that even when there's nobody around. I am VERY confused."

Two dead, many injured.

Cleo tossing a flower in his inventory when he wasn't looking. Cleo offering to let Martyn stay with her after his base gets griefed. Also ??? Martyn and Cleo getting a house together when they were constantly fighting?? why did they do that.

Cleo and Scott on their bridge above the ravine, doing their daily axe crit to the chest... Martyn in Ep 3 whips around and yells "Do you two mind??" Cleo tells him it's their way of showing affection and Martyn immediately gets out his enchanted axe and goes for her. He looks Scott in the eye and says "At least I've got a heart" and Scott's instant reply is "Do you??"

Martyn later refusing to use the bridge because it would be "awkward"... Martyn sneaking around Cleo's house and getting upset that she joined the HOA, immediately followed by her chasing him out of her yard insisting that she didn't. Martyn's swap into bubbly music when he's in the panda reserve. "The admission fee is love!" / "Oh, I come with buckets of that because somebody isn't accepting mine."

On the way out the door, Scar tells Cleo and Martyn that he'll find more romantic music to play the next time they visit and Martyn doubles back and says "Yeah, if you could." Love that for him. All the man wants is a partner who doesn't want to kick him in the teeth. What a great episode.

I love how Martyn and Cleo interact on their weird stepping stone bridge above the ravine... He keeps pushing for "I'll take your gear and go down to the ancient city to get your enchantments sorted out," trying to kill two birds with one stone and play up that role of being "the provider," and Cleo just... keeps trying to reel him back.

"No, no, no! You don't even have to do that! All you have to do is say 'I'm sorry for abandoning you on the first day.'" / "Mmmmm... I don't understand." sldkfj. "All it takes is an apology, Martyn." / "You're not getting one. We both know you're not getting one."

Delicious self-inflicted drama. Cleo's so willing to bend and he's so dang stubborn. I love them...

Personal highlight for me is right after Martyn kills both Cleo and himself by punching them off a cliff. Scott puts himself between the two of them while Cleo seethes and Martyn apologizes profusely and he just keeps saying "You have ruined every chance of ever being with her as your soulmate. You have lost every opportunity." Cleo following it up with "Remember when I said Martyn would be a good person to have on our team?

Yeah, just drive that sense of "Nobody wants you" into the one guy who's been so desperately roleplaying affection... topped off by the fact that when they're alone, Cleo drops the loud angry voice and cracks up laughing. Your honor, they are literally just some guys.

The fact that Cleo had to save him from an enderman while he shrieked and buried under her bedroom floor. I cannot get over the mental image of "Take me back, babe" immediately followed by them almost dying twice in 5 minutes. Martyn literally runs inside and hides under Cleo's bed... they can't stop giggling. Yep. He's here: the perfect man.

DL!Martyn is so funny to me... He explicitly uses the phrase "I'm breaking up with you too" when he dumps Pearl at the end of Episode 1, and then he does it AGAIN when Ren says they should bring Pearl into the Broken Hearts club.

The whole "Uh... I broke up with Pearl, so this might take some convincing" bit just cracks me up. Ren so wanted this alliance to work and Martyn is like "... ah. Yeah, about that..."

Semi-related, but thinking about that one Reacts clip where IRL Martyn said "See, this is why me and Cleo are soulmates" while listening to them talk about his LimLife finale betrayal...

idk; that's funny to me- I like the in-universe image that character Martyn is still hung up on Cleo (and/or the mental image of character Martyn hanging out with her at a post-LimLife party, trying to study her and figure out why they were paired).

Martyn and Cleo are on the same page in so many ways... but they have different communication styles / preferences and they crashed and burnt so hard... Ah, the sweet tragedy of it all. I'd have loved to see how well they could've fared together as a team.

Cleo losing their Yellow life because Martyn scrambled towards her begging her to eat and she forgot she was drowning as she opened inventory to check her pockets... His "Leave her alone!" and "Cleo, we good? We good?" during the ancient city fight. Cleo inviting Martyn into her Red Life base. Yeah. Them... Messy to the end.

Anyway, they're hilarious. GG to them on the improv and the commitment to it, even though the break-up was probably a scary roleplay / gameplay choice...

Also that moment where Bdubs casually says hello to them while they're walking home from the panda reserve and they immediately go for their weapons and start threatening him "Your money or your life" is so perfect... Love me a couple improv troublemakers in total sync. They're my favorites.

I love them and their silly donkeys Glen and Schmoobles... Nothing like two soulmates both picking the same companion animal without coordinating and both giving them silly names in the complete opposite directions from each other. They're great.

I love them...

[romeulusroy]

Mother and Father (Roman Roy Oneshot)

Character/s: Roman

Word Count: 1,588

A/N: I'm at my mums. Idk why I come back. I do and it's a mess and then I go on with my life like nothing happened, like everything is fine when she's constantly choosing him over me. This is stupid and I'm stupid. This not about my dad, but my step-dad. He was a wonderful, patient, smart man and I miss him every single fucking day. The other can go to hell. Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Succession Masterlist 

He keeps an eye on you. 

The wine is sweet. It stains your insides, pools through your bloodstream, brings a heat to your cheeks that is not unfamiliar. You’re sure if someone cut you open, if they dragged their butter knife across the softness of your stomach, out would pour the wine you’ve been refilling in your glass. It is sweet and red and you make the mistake of thinking it as blood. This house, this party, there is always a sacrifice of some kind. A lamb. A body. A mind. Something to hand out when the guests are full and bored and looking for entertainment. In a pen or cage, something with holes to poke and prod at their own delight. Every time you step through the front door you fear it’ll be you next. An aching, moaning, cerebral feeling in you tells you to run. Run as fast as you can, as far away as you can. Run and never turn back. Save yourself. You don’t listen. You never have. Somewhere along the line that kind of thinking became selfish. It became sinful. Somewhere along the line you were taught to be served on a platter like that is an expression of love. If you loved them you would cut yourself into bite size pieces. If you loved them you would bathe your skin raw. If you loved them you would wear a smile on your face while they sliced through the thickest parts of you. You would relax, untense ever muscle, so they wouldn't have to put force into it. You learned that resistance and self-respect would only land you in a muzzle and they couldn't love something that feral. 

He keeps an eye on you. 

The jokes. They start with the jokes. Always. They have since you were a young teenager. You’re never sure what to do, how to react. They laugh. Your mother laughs. You stand rigid, frozen, wondering over and over if you invited such thoughts. The way their hands move across your body as if it is their own. Holding you a heartbeat too long. Inspecting you, up and down, before landing on what they’ve been staring at for years. The hecatomb. It’s done publicly, the slitting of your throat, the collecting of the blood. Family not by blood nor name, but by her. By so-called-love. Desperation. Alone disguised as loneliness. And yet, he invited friends, onlookers, his own sons to take part. You were fourteen. You are still fourteen. It’s been years, years and years, but when he opens his mouth you are fourteen. You are the same child stunned, disgusted, the same child who cries in secret because their body no longer belongs to them. Others, too. A crowd. You were seventeen and drunk and you forgot. You forgot you could feel unsafe in your own home. His words carved themselves into you. Deep and serrated and looking to scar. Jokes. Your mother laughs and once again you are reminded there are sides to this kind of thing. There are sides and you know you stand alone. You’re older now. Legal. You got out, but you’re always coming back. Following the breadcrumb trail. Foolishly believing it will be different. He will be different. She will, too. They aren’t. He looks, he watches, he makes his comments. You hold back tears. You drink your sweet wine and relive every time before this where she has provided pieces of you to him, his friends, his sons, just to feel loved. You are reminded that she too has been changed by this idea of love. Warped. Mangled. That she too believes as you do: to be loved is to immolate. No exceptions. You pity her. For not getting out, for believing this, for teaching it to you. You’re hurt, too. She taught you. She laughs. Your own mother. 

He keeps an eye on you. 

He keeps an eye on you from the moment you walk in, taking your glass, your sips, kissing everyone hello. Falling into that crowd, your skin visibly crawling, your eyes glossing over, shrinking away into yourself until there is just a shell. An abandoned house. He should be here. With his brothers, his sister and father. He should be here mingling and schmoozing. He should be here listening to your mother go on and on about the man who jokes when he deserves hell. But you shouldn’t. You go out. You left. You fled the sinking ship you were born on. It startles him to see you. You’ve changed so much, so little. That face he remembers better than his own. The shy smile you wear when you’re embarrassed. The laugh you share and the laugh, the real one, that graces too rarely. When he’s lucky. The look of hurt in your eyes when you’re pretending you’re not. Just like now. And yet, he understands deeply. Always coming back for more. One more slap. One more hit. One more jab. It doesn’t matter that they leave you bleeding out across the floor. It doesn’t matter that you want to give up for good. It doesn’t matter that you come back with less bark, less fight, less of you. You always come back. Limping or crawling or crying out when you are unable to move. A caged animal does not trust the wild if their crate was lined with rusty nails. They seek out the sharpest thorns just to feel at home. 

He keeps an eye on you. 

You told him. You told him everything. You’re not sure why, what good it could have done, what good it’s done. You notice how careful his eyes are when they touch you, how cautious they are, how gentle he is.  It just came up, out, dribbling down your chin like vomit. You were crying. Tired. Slamming doors like you used to when you were little. He jumped. You scared him. You didn’t mean to. He was saying those things and she was letting him, encouraging him. About you. Your body. It made you feel dirty. It made you feel vulnerable. He understood. He didn’t say how, he just did. Hiding in a bedroom you can no longer claim as your own, curled into yourself the way you used to. Hiding. Shaking. That sweet wine churning in your gut, at the back of your throat. Sobbing. His voice is so quiet, so unsure, seeping through the door. You’re not sure why you unlock it, only that you do, and he comes in, and it comes pouring out of you. You’re fourteen. You’re thirteen when that boy, that boy with that laugh, decides you are his toy. To play with. To bash against the concrete, the wall. To discard when he gets bored. You’re seven when it starts. All those years. It never really stops, does it? You’re fourteen, and still a child, and he stares at you like he’s hungry. His words starved. Like he knows what they’ve done. Like he knows she is desperate and lonely and he can do whatever he wants to her child if it means she will be loved just a little. You remember and it kills you. You ignore it, you smother it, but it never really goes away. It is always there. He wants to set the house on fire. Burn it to the ground so that there is no place to come back to. So that you can get out for good. He wants to, but he doesn’t. He knows how these things work. They’ll find somewhere else to infest. They’ll call your name and you’ll come running. Limping. Screaming. 

He keeps an eye on you. 

The man with the jokes, the friends, the sons. He keeps an eye on you. He criticizes every emotion that settles into your skin. Every word, every act, every fucking thought. He takes it out on you. On her. Everyone but himself. He keeps an eye on you, and makes his comments, and leans in so that his words tear you apart. He smiles as he watches, his arm around your mother, reminding you this is a game you’ve lost before it’s even started. He keeps an eye on you, too. Roman. Rich, deep, not unlike the soil of the Earth. He steps up, he offers himself to them before they can finish you off. He doesn’t mind. He never has. Not with his own father, not with yours. Let them circle around him. Let them shred what’s left of him. You know better than to stop him. What would you do? What would you say? He does it with a smile. You know how it hurts, a familiar ache in the middle of your chest like your heart is physically breaking. Shattering to sparkly bits. This goes unspoken. Every time. Every time he sees what’s going on, that look of hurt, he intervenes. He can’t get out. Not now, not ever. But you? You did. You left that man behind, you left all those boys all those years ago behind. You need to remember that. Not what they did. Not what he’s doing. Look forward. He doesn’t touch you. He doesn’t try to. But you linger at his side, so little space between you, and he knows what it means. A language only you know, only you speak. A thank you. An I’m sorry. An understanding deeper than anything you’ve ever known. 

He keeps an eye on you, he protects you. He always has. He always will.

[our-gentle-tide]

hi hi!! I hope you’re having a lovely day/evening 💖May I request the obey me characters ( you choose who/how many but please for sure do simeon & asmo ) with their bf who goes in to give them a kiss but instead does a fake out & *gently* bites either their cheek or nose instead? I stand by this being one of the funnier things I did as a kid lol ( feel free to ignore this btw c: )

Lucifer, Mammon, Asmo and Simeon when their bf gently bites their cheek

Warning: screeching like branches

A/n: heyy everyone :D hope all you lovelies are doing well, I have been laying around doing nothing but avoiding my responsibilities, yk, as any writer does, anywho! Idk when I'll post again but I'm kinda just writing down what comes to mind, hope you all enjoy :)

Reader: M!reader

Lucifer:

Honestly..be careful with this cuz you probably did it while keeping him company while he works

One hand be signing away (with extrem cramps, rip luci's hand) and the other wrapped around your waist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles

He felt you shift and was about to ask what's up but then felt ur lips on his cheek

My man here didn't get a chance to give that oh, so soft smile that only u see

Felt you bite his fucking cheek and he paused for a sec

Do all humans do this?

Nah cuz I'd book it out of his study the moment he makes eye contact

Gives u the smirk yk the one-

But, surprisingly just pecks ur forehead and goes back to work

Dw he gets his revenge later (you can think of what happened next)

Mammon:

Probably barged into ur room cuz he hasn't had his 10th kiss of the day

Practically threw himself on ur bed, also meaning on u it was ur day off yet u still can't sleep in

Wasn't paying attention to what you were doing as he was rambling about his future plans

Screamed like a little girl when you bit him part 1-

Sat up so fast with a hand cradling his cheek and a blush spreading across his face

Wide eyes, stuttering and all that

Starts complaining about how ur lucky the grate mammon is spearing you..

Asmo:

"Darling if you wanted a bite, you just had to ask" - asmo most likely

Nah but fr- he was just having a self care night with you in his room

You were about to put a face mask on his face but one look at his cheek and you were done

A smile spread on his face when he felt ur lips on his cheek

Was about to say how cute you are but stopped when he felt u bite his cheek next

Screamed like a little girl part 2

Full on pouts and all that

Dw love, you can make it to him ;)

Simeon:

It was one of those rear times when the brothers were all too busy to cling to you and Simeon was taking full advantage of that

Ya'll were chilling in his room, you were listening to him coming up with new ideas for TSL and he wasn't paying attention while he was rambling on and on

Honestly, you couldn't help yourself and no one blames you

He was so cute :( and that soft smile on his face was gonna give you a heart attack

You leaned a little closer and gave him a kiss on the forehead then his cheek and he was already a blushing mess

Then you bit him- he was stunned and rightfully so

Then he turned to you, blinked twice and then he kinda just

Bit you back, although he was much more gentle than you-

He was curious! Why are you laughing?

He gave a small pout then joined in and laughed with you

(You can just tell I have a favourite huh)

[gofancyninjaworld]

Tbh, sometimes you're way too hardpressed on intradiagetic explanations in opm that you don't much factor in extradiagetic explanations.

Murata puts emphasis on detail yes, but I'm pretty sure there are just instances where he draws something doesn't have a deeper explanation behind. Like, idk, maybe Murata just got better at drawing leather, not bc Saitama got gifted better boots by Genos to replace his "plastic" ones. Tatsumaki doesn't wear pants isn't bc she's stupid, it's bc Murata is kind of a pervert.

Or like how Fubuki's boobs got bigger over the course of the manga, what, you're gonna tell us she got a boob job in between? :/

True, all analyses devolve into absurdity when followed too far. However, I hope I can justify my approach in this specific instance beyond 'it's fun', which is a sufficient answer to all things fannish.

First of all, it is true that a lot of the changes in the characters' appearances derives from Murata making stylistic changes. In particular, when he started drawing One-Punch Man, he was very keen to break out of the expressions and visual shorthands he'd developed during Eyeshield 21 (see volume 1 of One-Bukoru for more on that). It would seem that in time, he's developed an OPM visual shorthand that still leaves him scope to present the characters semi-realistically when the story demands it.

Let us stay outside the story a little while longer. It would make no sense to consider an intradiegetic explanation for Saitama's clothing in the webcomic. ONE draws clothes on his characters because they normally need some sort of clothing -- once he gets a look for them, that's it. Except where the choice of clothing is plot-relevant (like Teru choosing a terrible t-shirt for Mob), 'clothes were provided' is all that one need to say about it. Murata is very different in this regard. Outside of his art, he has a lot of interest in clothes: for example, he regularly promotes his uncle's kimono store on his Twitter. He spends considerable time referencing outfits for characters (and it's a fun sport for fans to find -- and price up -- those references). He spends a lot of time agonizing what a chracer's outfit says about them. See, for example, this titbit from his 11 June 2018 stream on King's clothing. His awareness of how clothing is an expression of a character's personality and the social signalling it provides has made it explicitly into the text, where Saitama asks Genos if his clothes make him look poor.

Therefore, let us get the first thing straight: the state and type of clothing has meaning within the context of the OPM manga, much more so than it does in the webcomic.

Let us consider the second party in this. Within the manga, it is canonical that Genos is well dressed -- and has been becoming more fashionable with time. Conflict between himself and the shoddily-dressed Saitama would seem likely. Let us consider what we see, therefore.

It is canonical that Genos cleans and repairs Saitama's clothing, including his precious hero uniform. He even goes so far as to have it professionally tended to on occasion (complete with dismay when Saitama gives it away...). He is very invested in Saitama looking his best.

Building on this, Saitama's cheaply-sourced outfits are disliked by Genos. When Saitama asked about looking poor, Genos changed the subject as he wasn't comfortable with telling Saitama bluntly that yes, he does look *that* poor. Genos being unhappy with Saitama's appearance extends to that hero uniform, which Genos has offered to replace as a gift (see 'Road to Hero').

So, we have in place, without an ounce of speculation, a man who dresses cheaply and badly. We have his closest associate, his disciple, being well dressed and distressed on occasion at his master's appearance. It is also well established that his disciple actively tries to improve things for said man.

Given that Genos's care extends to repairing Saitama's clothing, it is not unreasonable to impute that at least some of the improved fit and appearance of Saitama's wardrobe in the story is due to Genos's efforts.

Onto the other side of Saitama fitting his clothes better: food. It is established both within the text and supplemenatary to the text (ONE's interview in the Hero Encyclopedia) that Saitama had difficulty on consistently affording enough to eat before he met Genos. At times, he was even glad for food handouts from grateful people.

Since Genos's arrival, Saitama eats three good meals a day (eating three times a day is non-optional according to Saitama, what is optional is how much to eat: a banana will do if there is no other food available), both because Genos cooks and because pro-hero employment has meant a steady paycheck. It is not plausible that two months of eating well after being undernourished should have no effect whatsoever on how he bulks out.

Notwithstanding changes in Murata's art, it is unreasonable to presume that all the changes in Saitama's appearance can only be due to the art changes. I agree that one should not be overly speculative in one's analyses, but where there is good grounding for inferences, failing to make them is poor reading (1).

Then and now

If you're looking for extradiegetic readings of OPM, I can't recommend better than the Youtuber keatsta https://www.youtube.com/@keatsta2928/videos A long time fan of One-Punch Man, he's unfortunately not been reading the manga since chapter 165, but is still reviewing the webcomic. He's always got something interesting and insightful to say.

As I hope you're able to tell, I do consider the context and authorial intent in deciding how heavily to lean into an intradiegetic reading. Extradiegetic readings often carry the air of objectivity, but that is not necessarily justifiable or even the point. I'll give an example from my own life. Back when I was a snarky teenager, I attended one of my grandfather's art exhibitions. At the reception, I happened to overhear an art critic explaining to someone the signficance of of my grandfather's use of yellows in a painting. I thought (but thankfully did not say) 'how silly -- Grandpa just happened to have a lot of yellow paints to use up at the time.' I knew this to be so because I'd been around at the time he'd painted that picture. My grandfather has been gone for getting on a decade now, and I have no idea where the painting is hanging but I hope that its bold, yet nuanced use of yellows is stil speaking powerfully to someone.

Aside

(1) The inference that Genos has had a hand in improving Saitama's appearance would be 100% uncontroversial if he were a woman and Saitama's girlfriend. It is a deliberately jarring element of One-Punch Man that Genos has the concern for Saitama's appearance and well-being more normally reserved for romantic partners. Without necessarily being romantic.

Like I was saying, beware false objectivity. It often conceals a bias.

[deathsweetblossoms]

Azriel's Bonus Chapter, Mating Bonds, and Mor(e)

This was another find that had me PAUSE (if "YELLING SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS" can be likened to a simple "pause" then, okay.) Disclaimer: we talk about a potential mating bond between Azriel and Mor in this analysis, but I still tie it back to Elriel in the end.

I had intended to debrief each bonus chapter, but instead of approaching Azriel's in the simplistic way I approached Feyre's, I want to zero in on this one particular breadcrumb because ... WHAT?

"if Lucien finds out you're pursuing her, he has every right to defend the bond as he sees fit. Including invoking the Blood Duel."

Azriel hears Rhys say this, balks, and then thinks about how there was one other time, before this one, where he had thought about invoking the duel against Eris and Beron for Mor. /ALARM BELLS/INSTANT ANXIETY ATTACK/SARAH WE ARE GOING TO FIGHT.

Look me in the eyes and tell me this isn't weird. If we break down what Rhys is warning to it's simplest form:

Lucien, as the mated male, has the right to invoke the Duel for someone who posseses a threat to his mating bond (aka, if some other male wants his lady, he can fight to the death for ownership of his lady. An outdated duel, for sure, because...why does the female get no say? This seems like something Mor would vehemently want to run away from, or do anything in her power to avoid getting roped into. Think about it - why is she so desperate for freedom?)

When Azriel thinks about how he wanted to invoke the Duel for Mor, he says he seriously considered invoking it against Eris and Beron both "despite being an outsider".

So my question is, uh... WHY would he invoke the Blood Duel for Mor? Can it be invoked in a non-mating bond situation? I laughed off the theory of Azriel and Mor being mates but now I'm kind of like, WAIT. WTF IS GOING ON HERE? Because Mor was set up in essentially an arranged marriage with Eris, correct? So, that can be perceived as a direct mating bond threat, which Azriel could have invoked had they, in fact, been mated.

Also, as if my poor nerves weren't already suffering, Rhys even asks, "What about Mor?" which always drove me a little bit crazy because you're telling me all-knowing, all-seeing Rhys, who constantly told Feyre to stay out of it, DIDN'T NOTICE that Mor wants nothing to do with Azriel? And "prefers women" anyway??? Why would he even bring Mor into the conversation when they're discussing Elain and tenuous political alliances that would implode if Azriel pursued her? What is this, high school???!?!

*RIPPING MY OWN HAIR OUT*

But also, it explains a lot in terms of Mor being scared shitless of Azriel's response when she's threatened. If SHE also knows that they're mates, it would make sense for her character to want to run as fast and far away as possible to avoid putting him in that sort of mate-induced rage to invoke something like that.

It also explains "What if the cauldron made a mistake", as in, if he's somewhat aware of a potential bond between him and Mor, he is also aware that the cauldron CAN MAKE A MISTAKE. Because it did with them. Mor clearly prefers something else, and pursuing something else would make her happier although she still has a lot of love for Azriel and they remain friends.

See also: A Brief Overview of Feyre's Bonus Chapter and Analyzing the Necklace, The Mother, & Azriel's Bonus Chapter

Below the cut is some Elriel leaning theory and screaming given the above information.

So consider this: both Elain and Azriel have mates but they still end up choosing each other. WHAT A WILD STORY. You cannot tell me you wouldn't be on the EDGE OF YOUR SEAT over something like this?!?! Especially if Elriel would be a threat to *checks notes* the fragile political alliances of The Autumn Court, The Spring Court, Jurian and Vassa?

So with all of that hanging over their heads, and with their own mates, these two still choose each other?!

Oh, man, oh man. I would be losing my shit. IDK about you all. But..ooooo I would EAT THIS UP.

[aoshihugs]

MORE bllk enemies to lovers

⤿ 'x reader' hcs, part 1 / part 2 / part 3

⤿ characters: hiori, reo, barou, shidou

⤿ warnings: swearing, probs ooc

♨︎ hiori yo

⊱ the whole “enemies” thing is completely one-sided lmao

⊱ why do you hate him so much? what’s your damage?? he genuinely couldn’t be less bothered by your bs

⊱ doesn't acknowledge that you hate him, but not by ignoring you. he doesn't go out of his way to avoid you, but he'll try to respect your space

⊱ please don't go out of your way to bother him... it's more embarrassing on your part tbh… seeing hiori calmly respond to you when you're hurling insults at him makes you look like a whining child lol

⊱ unfortunately, his lack of acknowledgement or response to your jabs only makes you more mad

⊱ “oh so this guy thinks he’s above me, huh? not worthy of attention?” your mind works in mysterious ways, idk how you came to this conclusion

⊱ eventually he might cave and apologize for whatever he did (even though he doesn’t actually think he did anything wrong) to try and end your one-sided rivalry. he’s just so tired

⊱ might offer to buy you a snack or some coffee to get on your good side. if you take him up on his offer, you’re guaranteed to be charmed at his pleasant company

⊱ he’s a sweetheart!! you really don’t deserve him after all that lmao

♨︎ mikage reo

⊱ your grudge has to be personal to have a problem with this guy. he’s so charismatic, what did he do to deserve this?

⊱ maybe you're irritated that he's never had to work a day in his life? maybe it's the fact that he's always hogging the top positions in school clubs and leaderboards? maybe you can't wrap your head around why everyone seems to like him so much?

⊱ he's probably used to some randos at school trying to start a rivalry with him, but he doesn't think much of them in all honesty. he has better things to spend his time and energy on than some no-namer that isn't even in the school's top 10

⊱ depending on how interesting you are, he might respond differently. if you’re lucky:

⊱ he’s very… smug. on purpose. he doesn’t actually care about why you’re picking a bone with him. his family name alone guarantees some level of animosity towards him in certain circles. however, he does relish in the way your expression drops every time you make eye contact. he’d only egg you on if he thinks you’re worth giving any sort of reaction to, meaning he finds you interesting enough to keep poking at. if you’re lucky, he winks at you every time he catches you glaring. if you back down and look away, he might even laugh to himself, amused by your reaction

⊱ his amusement with your inexplicable infuriation is sickening tbh, he’ll go out of his way to tease you about it just to see you get riled up. and the worst part is? he thinks you look cute when you’re mad

⊱ might fuck around and tell you that straight to your face just to gauge your reaction, and it’s difficult to hold on to that hatred in your heart when he’s just so damn charming

♨︎ barou shouei

⊱ honestly… who isn’t enemies with this guy?

⊱ you didn’t even have to try to get on his bad side. it was probably an accident tbh? maybe you bumped into each other while walking in opposite directions. maybe you spoke a little too loud while he was trying to focus on his work. maybe you were too distracting during one of games? none of these things are really your fault, he’s just looking for reasons to dislike people

⊱ he just keeps… noticing you? it’s not that he’s actively looking for you or anything, you two just seem to coincidentally have similar schedules; he doesn’t go out of his way to bother you, instead choosing to move on with his day with a “tsk” and an eye roll

⊱ interestingly enough, you don’t notice these coincidences, at least not immediately. and why would you? barou’s a ‘lone wolf’ kind of guy, it’s not like anyone willingly seeks him out

⊱ when you finally pick up on the fact that this hulking beast of a man seems to stare you down every time you happen to be in the same room, at some point you decide to swallow your nerves and ask him what the problem is

⊱ never expected you to actually confront him. in fact, he actually seemed surprised when you asked him directly. he assumed you would get the hint and avoid him but alas, you simply aren’t someone who tolerates this kind of treatment. someone who bites back? kinda hot, er, irritating

⊱ can’t give a concrete answer, and you won’t take a “tsk” or a “none of your business, pleb” for an answer. eventually he’ll just yell at you to leave him alone

⊱ don’t, keep at it! be the person that greets him every morning before class; wave at him in the halls with a bright smile; piss him off on purpose; make him wince at the thought of you and sneer at the sight of you. don’t back down! don’t let him win!

⊱ it may not be love quite yet, but hey, you’ve certainly gotten this king’s attention!

♨︎ shidou ryuusei

⊱ i don’t think this guy has ever had a good first impression with anyone tbh

⊱ it's not that he seeks out enemies, he's just an annoying guy at his core. staying true to himself just naturally attracts side-eyeing and sighing, poor guy not really

⊱ you just don’t really like him?? he’s too loud, too blunt, too forward, and sometimes it feels like he’s targeting you he is, duh

⊱ no concept of a personal bubble: always poking you, putting his arm around you for no reason, and leaning far too close for comfort when talking to you

⊱ definitely the type to “flirt” by just being annoying. he doesn’t have even like you like that yet, he just loves your reaction

⊱ match!! 👏 his!! 👏 energy!! 👏

⊱ would be caught off-guard if you turned the tables and start pestering him back. he expects you to tell him off or ignore him because that’s how most people react to his teasing. the fact that you go out of your way to get revenge is, honestly, exciting

⊱ good luck trying to get rid of him now lol, you’re stuck with this guy forever poor sae

[viriborne]

If you're still doing the character opinion thing-- Beel and Belphie? I feel like they're less liked in the fandom for two very diff reasons lol

Ough this is gonna be tough since I don't really like or dislike Beel ig? It's honestly mostly just how he's written with very little substance but ok here we go.

For Beel, I think he's a very VERY easy character interpret since...85% of his lines are usually about food...which can be very annoying for anyone who wants him to be of more substance (which he has the potential for being but uh. writing). I may just be projecting my own feelings but I feel like the main reason that Beel, in specific, is low in the rankings is because a lot of people just think he's...very boring and predictable. He was a character of substance in season 1 when he opened up to Mc about his guilt of choosing to save Belphegor over Lilith in the war and the fear of having his twin taken away from him and imprisoned by Diavolo. After that... he just because the food guy, honestly. I think him being one of the only brothers that openly cares deeply about his family is definitely interesting but it's not expanded upon nearly enough.

Also, I feel like the devs kind of...shifted his personality after the first season? Like he's much nicer and portrayed as more "sweet" than he was at the beginning?? I mean, in the first manga released from like.. the end of 2020 to the beginning of 2021, he literally tells Mammon to "shut up, man" when he was having an outburst. Idk, he doesn't seem to be as blunt and speak his mind as often. Hell, he was even the first character to point out that Mammon is soft on Mc and that was BEFORE Leviathan's pact. He goads Mammon into going through with stealing something from Mc and then points out that he knows he won't do it because Mammon likes them.

Onto Belphegor! My dearest dickhead whose head I wanna put in a blender. He very much as a severe case of youngest sibling syndrome despite him and Beel being...the same age. Even when you get past the whole "actually killing you" thing, he's still a massive asshole lol. Though, it's very funny seeing Lucifer fans hate Belphegor for the murder and occasional rudeness when uhhh I hate to say it but Lucifer is significantly worse in both departments. First of all, Lucifer canonically: beats you until pass out, attempts to murder you MORE THAN ONCE, one of these murder attempts happens almost immediately after he almost admits that he loves you, has a very hard time taking "no" for an answer (cough pact scene), has a massive ego that needs to constantly be stroked, I COULD GO ON FOR DAYS but this is about Belphie not him.

Despite all the shit I've talked about him so far, he's literally my third favorite brother lol. I like how blunt he can be at times as well as how he sometimes seems to goad Mc in order to just have their attention on him. He's a selfish little prick but only because he wants your attention, he's honestly almost as bad as Mammon in that way. I really wish more people would explore his character like that since he really is very sweet on Mc when you look at it. He really just seems like someone who's main way of flirting is teasing lol.

Also he's shy as hell when you actually give him what he wants, which is another funny Mammon similarity.