#or really focus on his speech patterns

[detectivemiku]

One of the things I really like about Shinichi's character is that he 𝘤𝘢𝘯 act, and fairly decently as well. It just has to have all of his focus. If he's not paying attention, he breaks character.

There's a big difference between playing a role and pretending to be someone else 24/7. Actors get moments where they can break between shots or scenes, and everything is scripted. For missions, it's a brief few hours you have to stay in role and then you're done. As Conan, Shinichi has to spend 𝘢𝘭𝘭 of his time being a kid with very few breaks, and he has to improvise on the spot 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺.

In all of the cases where he's pretending to be someone else for a brief period of time, he's great at it. He's also 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 at mimicking other people's speech patterns and cadence when using the voice changing bowtie (even if he can't do accents). And then there's all the times where he uses his status as a little kid to get things he wants, mainly when question suspects. He can play the little kid role great at certain points, only if that's his main focus.

The problem, and reason why he ends up failing at being a convincing kid, is he simply gets distracted. When he's absorbed in a case, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 is what takes up all of his attention, and he forgets he's supposed to just be a kid. Once he realizes something he said/did isn't normal for a child, he's stuck needing to backtrack and cover for it, which he is very bad at.

Shinichi is in a position where he needs to be Conan at all times, and is almost always in view of someone he has to perform for. The small breaks he gets where he has a chance to just be himself are so few and far between. Pretending to be a different person at all times, especially one who should be on an different mental level than you are, is tiring and hard to keep up!! His performance as Conan isn't an accurate representation of his ability to act, because the situation is so much greater than that, and I'm sure even fantastic actors would struggle with it.

[sencrose]

— ENCORE!

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

tags: exhibitionism, established relationship, toys (vibrator), idol AU (reader's an idol), praise, multiple orgasms, overstim, dacryphilia, clothed/floor sex, pet names (angel/sweetheart/princess), satoru being a wee bit possessive/mean, reader’s kinda tsun

wc: 4.6k

summary: your boyfriend wants you to put on a special show for the night, and your audience is none the wiser.

a/n: happy holidays! let's completely ignore canon together <3 i'll be free from idol AU bs one day. today is not that day. i got a tag on my blog for any idol!reader stuff involving gojo at #iettoru! if it piques your interest! special thanks to @angelbunsx and @surpassing-morning for looking over this for me <3 dividers by @/adornedwithlight

❥ ao3 link here

This was a horrible idea. Well, it still is a horrible idea, but you went along with it anyway. At the end of the day, you only really have yourself to blame, even though you would really like to split it with your boyfriend.

It took a bit of convincing, maybe a bit of guilt tripping, but it doesn’t change the fact that there’s a vibrator stuffed inside you as you walk onto the stage. Everything feels more intense than usual– the brightness of the stage lights, the stuffiness of the venue, the cheers of the crowd.

You inhale deeply but the words that follow come out shaky, “T-thanks for coming, everyone!” It catches you off guard, but not enough to stop talking. Your group members, however, give you a worried glance. You can’t afford to make them worry about you, not when there’s nothing worth worrying about other than your boyfriend’s perverted fantasies. So you continue, yelling into the mic as a way to hide your unsteady breathing, “We have a great show planned for tonight, so we hope you enjoy it!”

The crowd cheers, as per usual. Though this time it rumbles through you, intensifying the already overwhelming vibrations stirring you up. You don’t have much time to think about it. The start of the backing track catches you off guard, as you rush to catch up with your members’ formation. Everything feels hot, and you’re not sure what it is, the embarrassment of a rare mistake, or the vibrations rushing through your body with each step.

And though you’re struggling to keep up with the routines you’ve practiced dozens of times over, Satoru doesn’t seem to be phased. He’s business as usual, a sun bright smile plastered on his face as he yells and waves his penlight in the air. He might even be cheering louder than usual, the bastard.

Every move feels risky, like taking a block from an unsteady tower of jenga. The world’s worst game of flipping the coin. Either the vibrator will adjust inside you, press against somewhere that might make you moan, or maybe it’ll move around enough and slip out. Thinking about the latter is too much for you, so you surrender yourself to moving a bit less than usual. Focus on shining that dazzling smile to the crowd and hope they won’t see how it falters with every shift of your body.

And thankfully, it works for the first performance. You’ve never been so grateful to hear the crowd whoop and holler. Even more so that you’re not introducing the next song.

But that moment of relief is cut short. The vibrations pattern changes to something more intense, staccato pulses that make you wince with each throb. It catches you off guard, a soft moan escaping your lips before you try to cover it up with a cough, though you’re not sure it’s that convincing.

“You doing okay over there?” Your member’s voice barely registers in your ears as you rush to put on a fake smile.

“S-Sorry, I’m doing okay! Just recovering from a cold,” you reply with a shaky chuckle. Everyone seems to be content with your answer, though Satoru seems exceptionally proud of himself. It takes every bit of self control to keep your breathing steady, as your members banter amongst themselves before introducing the next song. Their speech feels like it’s going on for ages until they finally get themselves in position.

Thankfully, you’re not caught off guard this time, though the choreo’s a lot more complicated for this song. You don’t have the safety of being hidden in the back, being front and center for a good chunk of the performance. Though the audience cheers, you can see some concerned faces interspersed between the sea of penlights, some murmurs and whispers beyond what you can hear. It’s not hard to imagine what the conversation would consist of.

Even on a good day this routine would leave you breathless, but it’s on a whole other level now. It’s hard to keep your muscles clenched, terrified of having the toy slip out of you from your frenzied movements. And seriously, who thought adding this many jumps was a good idea?

But with each hit of a drum, you jump anyways, though a little less enthused than your members. Then, as if it’s a punishment for not giving enough effort, the speed of the vibrator increases. Your eyes dart to find Satoru in the audience, but he’s cheering innocently as usual, though one of his hands is dug deep in his pocket.

You’re going to kill him later.

With each move, it’s getting harder to ignore the tension building in your core. But you just have to get through this song and another before the buppan period. It’s only another ten minutes max, you can keep it together till then, you think.

Satoru plays more with the settings and you can feel him pushing the buttons for each one, carefully watching your reaction to see which is the most effective. Unfortunately for you, it’s written clearly on your face when your smile breaks and your eyes squeeze shut for a brief moment, just enough for Satoru to hone in on it.

You’ve vastly overestimated your ability to stay calm and collected. The buzzing inside you is erratic now, each pulse getting you closer to the edge. But the song is so close to being over, maybe if you just move a little less, catch a small break where you can focus on standing still, you can make it through. Though, it’s hard to concentrate when you can feel a pool forming in your underwear, the wet cotton sticking to your skin wherever you go.

It’s as if you can feel yourself developing a fever in real-time, heat boiling beneath the surface of your skin as you struggle to keep up with your members. It doesn’t help that Satoru keeps changing the vibrations to a pattern that doesn’t match the rhythm of the music, yet another added distraction. It demands your attention as if it’s a living, breathing being, gnaws and claws at your core until you finally give it what it wants.

The vibrator wins over your self-determination.

You at least have the self control to fake a cough over it, but not before your knees give out on you, trembling as you try to hold yourself back up. With every pulse, ecstasy courses through your body, small choked moans escaping your lips.

Your group members, sweet as they are, immediately come to your side to help you up, and you’re rushing back to coughing to hide the truth.

“H-Hey, you really don’t have to push yourself, you know,” she whispers to ensure the audience doesn’t hear.

You do your best to swat her away without actually hitting her, afraid she’ll be able to feel the toy vibrating through your skin and discover your dirty little secret.

“N-No, I’m fine, I can do one last song,” you get out, enunciating each syllable carefully to not spur any suspicion.

“You sure?”

“Y-Yeah, it’s just one more,” you assure her.

“Okay…” Hesitantly, she lets you recollect yourself, watching over you until you stand, give her a smile and a thumbs up.

“Sorry about that everyone, I’m okay! But this will be our last song of the night,” you announce into the mic, swiping the dust off your skirt.

You get a bit of your spirit back now that you got that out of your system. That doesn’t make the vibrations any less incessant.

Unbeknownst to the audience, it’s not a performance anymore–it’s a competition. To show Satoru you can hold it out till the end.

And with the start of the instrumental, you’re off to the races.

A thread of melodic synths weaves its way through the room, and the crowd fires off their usual chants during the introduction. It’s a nice distraction to hold you over until it’s your turn in the center. When it’s your time, you beam and sing sweetly into the mic, like it’s just your average performance. Satoru doesn’t let you go that easily, adjusting the attack pattern to diminish and swell in a way that catches you off guard.

And though it’s hard, it’s not the worst of the night. You hiccup on a note for a split second, but it seems to go unnoticed by the audience, considering how hard they’re waving their penlights. That’s one third of the song out of the way.

Even when you’re out of the spotlight, Satoru doesn’t take his eyes off you, nor does he take his fingers off the remote. Every move is an opportunity to see you break, even if it’s just a little. He does his best to find a rhythm, one that pulses with the beat of the music, and you feel it reverberating through you with each step. It’s not quite enough to make you break, but it’s enough that you’re hyper aware of it.

A frenzied mix of bass and synths meld together for the bridge, and the crowd takes it as their cue to do the appropriate chants, their yells rattling your chest almost as intensely as the vibrator. It’s bad timing to feel the heat in your core swell as you take your spot center stage for your solo with the instrumental toned down. The crowd quiets down too, a rush of soft claps pattering like butterflies filling the room. On a regular night, this display would be cute, heartwarming even. But now it only serves as a reminder that all eyes are on you, and only you.

Don’t mess up.

So you take a deep breath, gripping onto the mic like a vice. All of your focus is on the lyrics, singing them as softly and sweetly as you can. Even though the night was off to a rough start, you think you’ve redeemed yourself with this, hitting every note just right, even with the vibrator doing its best to pull your attention back to it. Back to Satoru.

You can take it easy now. It’s almost over. Just repeat the dance you've already done twice over from the other choruses.

And for once, it’s just as simple as that. The vibrating is incessant, but you’ve gotten used to it at this point, even with the occasional change in pattern. Your chest rises and falls harder than usual as you hold your finishing pose, your skin covered in beads of sweat you aren’t accustomed to.

Despite everything Satoru attempted to throw at you, you made it, and that’s all that matters. The performance is over.

For now. —

The buppan period is worse than you thought it was going to be. To your surprise, Satoru didn’t do his usual frenzied ticket buying spree and now you’re left to face the masses he usually doesn’t let you see. You don’t recognize the fan in front of you, can’t even determine if he’s a first time fan or if you’ve met him so long ago the passage of time has done your memory in.

“H-Hi, thanks for coming!” you exclaim, taking his ticket and placing it on the table.

“Thanks for the performance! I really hope you’ll feel better soon,” he remarks. The way he scratches his neck tips you off that he’s nervous.

“Aw thank you! I’m already feeling better for the most part, I’m just coughing a little here and there,” you do your best to assure him, lying through your teeth.

“Despite it all, you still did great today,” he says, whispering towards the end of his sentence.

“Thanks,” you smile, and you don’t want to admit it but you are a bit touched by his words. Quickly, you shake the thought away. Maybe you understand why Satoru monopolizes your time now. “So, did you have a pose in mind?”

“Yeah, just a hand heart, if that’s okay,” he offers, a bit hesitant, shakily playing with his hands to show you the gesture he’s thinking of.

“Sounds good!” You give him a thumbs up before leaning in a bit closer to him, just enough that your fingertips are touching. Look into the camera with your usual smile, and count down from three.

As soon as the flash of the camera dissipates, you’re hit with a rush of pulses to your core. It’s almost enough to make you keel over, a sliver of a groan escaping you as you bend over to grab your stomach.

“A-Are you okay?” he asks, his hands hovering over you wanting to help, but unsure if he should touch.

You don’t think you deserve his kindness.

“Y-Yeah, sorry, just,” you sigh, barely able to keep it together. Each pulse takes the wind out of you, gets you closer on that precipice you don’t want to experience here, not this close to a stranger, much less a fan. So, you wave the white flag for now, gritting your teeth to get the words out between deep breaths, “I think I gotta go. I’ll be back in a bit.”

–

Your absence doesn’t go unnoticed by Satoru. If anything, this is probably what he had in mind, push you to your limits until you just can’t take it anymore. By the time you barely have a moment to collect yourself, he’s already found you on the floor of the green room. It’s pathetic, letting him see you like this–breathless, panting, and desperate for relief.

The way he hovers over you paints him in a surreal, hazy light, as if he’s an angel coming down to save you from your strife, when he’s really the demon who put you in this scenario to begin with.

“My angel loves the attention, doesn’t she?” he asks, sickly sweet.

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you bite back, but you don’t stop him when he bends down to shuts you up with a kiss. It’s impossible to keep your voice back when he splits your legs apart with his knee, pressing up against your soaked panties while the vibrator continues to hum inside you. It’s more overwhelming than you thought, finally getting what you want and letting yourself melt into his touch. Satoru doesn’t let you savor it for too long, pulling away with a shit-eating grin.

“Feisty. Did I make you wait too long?” he sneers, pressing his forehead against yours.

You don’t give him a response, too embarrassed at the mess he’s made of you, at the way your wet underwear clings to your sticky folds.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you all the attention you need,” he coos, sliding his hand up your thigh to pull down your shorts and underwear.

Satoru takes his sweet time because he always enjoys seeing how restless you get over him. The way you look up at him, the hint of tears forming on your waterline while pawing at him as you silently beg for him to take care of you. He could never get sick of it. So, he gently massages your inner thigh, fingers creeping up closer to your pussy until you’re nearly crying, pleading for him to do something.

“P-Please, take it out ‘Toru,” you whine, sniffling a bit because you’re so close to being overstimulated.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers soft and low, “since you asked so nicely…” he trails off, lithe fingers pressing into your soaked cunt, but not before he has some more fun with you. Satoru takes his sweet time, letting out a little “oops” to pretend the toy is slipping from his grasp, only for his fingers to go deeper than the vibrator.

The moment you part your lips to ask him to stop is the moment he finally shows mercy and slowly pulls out the vibrator. The sudden loss of sensation is a contradiction, both welcome and not. It’s strange to have nothing inside you, it almost makes you wish something else was in there to take its place.

One thing that catches you both off guard is just how wet it is, nearly dripping with your arousal.

“Wonder if any fans noticed you’re practically leaking,” he says before licking a long stripe off the vibrator, “not that it matters, you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

“It’s just sweat,” you retort, looking off to the side because you can’t stand to inflate his ego when he gets like this.

“Sure it is. Were you thinking of me up there?” he asks, following your gaze.

“Maybe,” you mumble.

“Huh? What was that?” he perks up, bringing a hand to his ear for dramatic effect.

“Toru, just put it inside already,” you huff with a soft pout.

“Wooooow,” he comments, drawing out the vowel for dramatic effect, “needy today aren’t we?”

“It’s your fault anyways,” you say, an attempt to throw the blame back at him. Still, you wrap your fingers in his shirt before pulling his body closer.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take the blame as always. For what it’s worth, you’re just as bad as me,” he comments. His fingers slide against your slick folds and you bite your lip to hold your voice back.

Satoru savors every moment he has with you, drinking in the sight of your cunt practically dripping arousal onto the floor. The more he stares, the more your face burns. No matter how many times you’ve done this, you can’t get over how attentive he is.

He sinks in a single finger, and it’s already enough to have you groaning at the sensation, to have your hips bucking into him.

“What kinda idol runs off to the green room in the middle of an event to get fucked?” Satoru teases, his finger pressing into you harder.

“Y-You’re being mean, ‘Toru,” you whine.

“You like when I’m mean,” he quips back before pressing in another finger with little resistance.

Satoru does what he always does–starts slowly, listens carefully to the way your breath hitches as he curls his fingers to find that special spot. When he gets there it’s hard not to relinquish control, as you lean back and let him take care of you. As much as he loves to listen to your moans, he likes swallowing them up too, feverishly kissing you without letting a single one slip from your lips. Satoru only pulls away from a moment to tease you.

“C’mon angel, you gotta let me know if it feels good,” he coos before picking up the pace. It’s too much, embarrassing to hear the wet squelches leaving your pussy the more he fingers you.

Every part of you runs hot as the tension that’s been simmering in your core builds to a roaring boil. Desperation overrides any rational thought as you find a rhythm and ride his fingers, nearly drooling as you feel your muscles tensing up. You’re so close, and he knows it too, because Satoru’s kisses always get messier when you get close to cumming.

“T-Toru, please,” you whine between moans, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for.

“I know, I know,” he coos before giving you a soft peck on the cheek, “let it all out for me, sweetheart.”

It’s as if he knows your body better than you as the tension in your core finally snaps as you cum on his fingers. Satoru being the fiend he is, continues fucking you through it, pushing his fingers in harder when you inevitably clench around him.

“Too much, too much, ‘Toru,” you cry, attempting to grab his wrist but he simply pushes himself deeper into your cunt.

“One more? I know my princess wants another,” he teases before kissing you to cut off of any chance of a response. It’s not like you would be able to give him an answer anyways, not when his fingers play with you so easily, his lips greedily stealing every one of your breaths and moans for himself.

One thing about Satoru is that he likes to overindulge. Likes when you’re extra loud and needy for him, seeing the pleasure written plainly on your face when he fucks you, whether that’s with his fingers, his tongue, his dick, or anything else he can get his hands on. But that makes him insatiable in some aspects, when he makes you cum on his fingers multiple times before he’ll even entertain the prospect of fucking you properly.

Can you really blame him? He just wants to feel all your love for him dripping down his cock. Maybe even make you cry a little because you just look too cute when you do, and even cuter when you sniffle as he wipes your tears and kisses them. It sets off something in him.

But it’s also hard to keep up with him. When you grip onto his hand and try to pull his fingers out because it’s too much, he simply wraps his arm around your waist and keeps you from escaping. Satoru’s determination is a wild animal that can’t be tamed, especially when it comes to you.

It always pays off for him, but that means it pays off for you as well. Though, you’re in tears when he rips another orgasm out of you, your moans too deafening to quell with a kiss. Your legs involuntarily squeeze close as Satoru gets you near the edge of ache and overstimulation, but he uses his other hand to split them open, watching closely how your pussy convulses and flutters around his fingers as you come undone. Only when you finally come down from your high does he slow down, examining just how much you soaked his hand.

“You didn’t have to go so hard, Satoru,” you scoff when he finally gives you a break.

“Just gotta make sure you’re all prepped for me,” he mewls, pulling out his fingers from your messy cunt. They glisten under the fluorescent lighting, before Satoru shamelessly sucks on them before releasing it with a pop.

“Don’t have to go all above and beyond on me,” you mumble, a bit embarrassed at his shamelessness even though it’s just the two of you in the room.

“But my angel only deserves the best,” he says, voice low and sultry. Hastily, he’s stumbling over himself to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants before palming himself over the fabric. That doesn’t last long before he finally frees his cock, already hard and raring to go.

Satoru pulls up your skirt to your waist before slotting himself between your legs. Even still, he teases you, tapping his cockhead on your slick folds and letting out a whistle when a thread of your arousal sticks to him before thinning out and breaking.

“T-Toru, please,” your voice breaks with each tap of his cock against your cunt, the desire to be filled up driving you to the edge of tears.

“Please what?”

“Put it inside already,” you beg with a pout.

“Whatever you say, princess,” he coos before pressing the tip of his cock against your hole, and both of you moan when he bottoms out quicker than usual, thanks to all his hard work. Satoru holds your head in his hands as he pumps into you with a steady rhythm, each stroke punctuated with a hard snap of his hips.

“Fuck, you really are made just for me, aren’t you?” he pants breathily, before planting a wet kiss on your neck.

You can’t bring yourself to answer, not that he really needs one. With his mouth elsewhere, your lips are free to spill all the moans it wants, and they’re abundant. It’s music to Satoru’s ears, as he hums in delight while biting down on your shoulder.

“Can’t be so loud angel, the others’ll hear you,” he teases, as if that isn’t his dream come true. His lips press into yours, and you don’t hesitate to give him the opening he wants. Satoru kisses you sloppily, spit and drool mixing with yours before spilling from the sides of your mouth.

“Is that what you want? Want your fans to know what a pervert you are?”

“No, no, no,” you protest, shaking your head with a tinge of guilt in your chest. You can only imagine the shock your fans and members would have if they ever knew about this happening just a handful of meters away. But that concern disappears as fast as it came when Satoru turns on the vibrator again and plants it against your clit. Your body writhes from the simulation suddenly being introduced again, but Satoru is unrelenting, keeping it right against the sensitive bundle of nerves no matter how much you move.

“It’s okay, I’ll keep your secret,” he says softly, almost gentle, contrary to the position he currently has you in.

Satoru adjusts and presses your legs as far back as he can before he starts building a merciless pace. The weight of his body against yours is suffocating, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he hits your deepest parts from this angle.

“Fuck, you’re getting close, aren’t you? Can tell from the way you’re squeezing me,” he groans, his voice getting breathier with each word, “you wanna cum, sweetheart?”

“P-Please make me cum, ‘Toru,” you pant out.

Satoru answers by frantically thrusting his hips into you, hitting your deepest points at a pace that’s dizzying. Words are the last thing on your mind, too fucked out and crying from how good it feels. You don’t even protest when Satoru bites down on your neck, even harder than before. All you give him is a drawn out whine as he sucks on the skin and with how intense he’s being, it’s definitely going to leave a mark.

It doesn’t matter. All you can focus on is tightening your muscles, preparing yourself for your fourth climax of the night. Satoru is merciless, thrusting into you like an animal functioning on a base desire to breed. The sound of skin-to-skin slapping fills the room, nearly muffling your own babbled cries as you get close. The tension in your core builds and builds until it snaps and crashes into you like a tidal wave, deep and full-bodied.

Your nails dig into his chest when he continues to fuck you through it like he always does, thighs trembling as your walls convulse and flutter around his cock. Satoru curses under his breath as his pace slackens, your orgasm being a precursor to his own. Despite him making a mess of you, he’s just the same as you when he’s cumming, maybe even worse–desperately humping into you and repeatedly whispering “I love you” and moaning until his hips finally give out.

Satoru digs himself deeper into you as he cums, making sure you can feel all of his love for you in the hot ropes of white that paint your insides. After he’s emptied all that he can inside of you, he finally dismounts and gives your body the chance to recover.

You barely take a moment to recollect yourself, still panting and sweating from the intense orgasm when Satoru uncharacteristically rushes to get his clothes back on.

“What are you doing?” you ask, still out of breath.

“Going back out. I still have these to redeem,” he says matter-of-factly. Satoru rummages through his pockets before brandishing a handful of cheki tickets, all with your likeness smothered on them. Before you can even offer up a response, he gives you a peck on the cheek. “You’re not going to keep me waiting, are you?”

[undersugarnights]

Just Take Off Your Mask

✦ MDNI — 18+ Only ✦

✧ pairing: luke hemmings x reader

✧ summary: after going MIA for a few days, luke shows up at you and your best friend michael’s shared apartment on halloween, desperate to make amends.

✧ warnings: smut, overstimulation, toy usage, slight knife play, blink and you’ll miss it hint of a slightly toxic relationship

✧ word count: 4.6k

✧ title: robbers — by The 1975

✧ author’s note: Okkkkayyyyy, so I saw someone request a Ghostface Luke fic somewhere and it got me thinking. Originally, I wrote this with an OC from a fic i’m working on, but ended up switching to an x reader format. This is my first post here on Tumblr, so bear with me if it’s a little wonky or if I make any mistakes. I also edited this myself, so if you catch anything I missed, please let me know! anyway, this is for my twt gc, i love u freaks

Copyright © 2024 undersugarnights. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You sat slouched on the couch of your shared apartment with Michael, mindlessly scrolling through Netflix in a futile attempt to find something that could distract you from Luke’s absence. No matter how hard you tried, your focus kept slipping.

Michael had begged you to come with him to a Halloween party earlier, but you’d refused. Not for the first time, you had turned down something you would have enjoyed—all because of Luke.

Your gaze drifted to the phone on the coffee table, the absence of notifications glaring back at you like a silent taunt. You forced your eyes back to the TV, but your thoughts refused to cooperate. Three days. It had been three days since he disappeared without a word. He’d promised to spend Halloween with you, yet he hadn’t shown.

The creeping fear you always tried to suppress began to rise. It was the same fear that gripped you whenever Luke disappeared, leaving you in the dark without so much as a message to say he was okay. You hated how easily it consumed you, how it made you question what you even meant to him. Were you really his girlfriend? Or just a convenience?

Before the spiral could go any deeper, your phone buzzed sharply, its ringtone breaking the heavy silence. You nearly launched yourself off the couch, scrambling to grab the device, only to fumble it in your haste. The phone skittered across the table, but you snatched it up, heart racing as you answered.

Luke’s name flashed on the screen.

Your heart leapt, but you forced your tone to remain steady as you answered. “Was starting to think you were the victim of a bad horror movie,” You mused, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your pajama pants while you awaited his response.

The line crackled with his heavy, slightly muffled breathing before he finally spoke. “So,” he began, drawing out the word, his tone laced with cocky amusement. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

Your brow furrowed at his breathy voice, noticeably deeper than usual. “Yeah,” You replied, the confusion in your tone clear. “It’s you, dummy.”

A low chuckle rumbled through the speaker, sending a shiver down your spine. “Open your door, Y/ N,” Luke drawled, his voice dripping with something dark and teasing. “You’re looking… lonely.”

You froze, pulse quickening. “What the hell has gotten into you?” You asked, scrambling off the couch and padding cautiously toward the door. “You can’t see inside.”

Your hand hovered over the handle, thoughts racing.

Luke didn’t answer, offering only a low chuckle from the other side of the door. Irritation bubbled in your chest as you gripped the doorknob, mentally rehearsing a speech about the importance of communication. With a sharp exhale, you flung the door open, ready to confront him—only to freeze mid-breath.

You let out a loud gasp, any annoyance momentarily forgotten.

Luke stood there, leaning casually against your doorway, dressed head to toe in a Ghostface costume. The dark fabric clung to his broad shoulders, the mask in place, giving him an eerie, almost theatrical presence. Your eyebrows shot up as your eyes swept over him, caught between surprise and intrigue.

Slowly, with deliberate precision, Luke slid the mask up, revealing his face. Your breath hitched at the sight of him. His hair was artfully messy, most likely due to the mask. His pupils were wide and dark, the dim light catching the sharp gleam of his lip ring as it contrasted against the soft pink of his slightly parted lips.

A lazy, knowing smile spread across his face, one corner of his mouth quirking up just enough to send a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t help the way your lips parted in response, your gaze lingering on him longer than you intended.

“Happy Halloween,” he drawled, hanging up the phone his voice low and smooth, as if he had no idea—or perhaps full knowledge—of the effect he was having on you.

“Happy Halloween?” You echoed, anger surging through you as you stepped aside enough to let Luke inside. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Luke didn’t waste any time, grabbing your face in his gloved hands and pressing his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. Even though you were mad, more than mad, the feeling of his lips against yours was enough to send a shiver down your spine, your hands instinctively intertwining behind his neck.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice low and earnest as he kissed along your jawline. His hands moved to your waist, effortlessly lifting you onto the breakfast island near the door. His lips trailed down the sensitive column of your neck, licking, nipping, and leaving you gasping for air. "Let me make it up to you."

Your eyes fluttered shut as heat pooled in your stomach, but you fought the pull. "No," you sighed, trying to steady your voice. Luke pulled back just enough to fix you with an exaggerated pout.

"I'm mad," you added, your tone unconvincing even to yourself.

Luke rolled his eyes, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips as his hands settled on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Sure you are," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. Slowly, his hand slid beneath the hem of your shirt.

The rough texture of his gloved fingers against you soft skin made your breath hitch, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine despite your resolve to stay annoyed.

“I’m serious,” You insisted, your frown deepening. You hated how easily your body betrayed you, responding to Luke’s touch despite the simmering anger still coursing through you.

“So am I,” Luke replied, flashing that infuriatingly charming lopsided grin—the one that made your stomach flip no matter how mad you wanted to be. “And I really want to make it up to you.”

You let out an exasperated groan, your hand hesitating before tracing the line of his stubbled jaw. The contrast of roughness against your fingertips sent a shiver down your spine. “I want to stay mad at you,” You murmured, though your voice softened, betraying your resolve.

“Then stay mad,” Luke teased, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in to nip at your earlobe. His breath was warm against your skin, making your heart race. “It’ll make it more fun. Please, baby, I missed you.”

Your resolve crumbled further at the sincerity in his tone, your anger quickly being replaced by something softer. “I can’t be mad when you look at me like that,” you grumbled, your eyes fluttering closed as the heat of his lips against your neck made your breath hitch.

You felt him grin against your skin. "Good thing I brought a mask, then," he whispered huskily. With a teasing laugh, he pulled back just enough to capture your lips in a searing kiss. It was harsh, needy, his teeth grazing your lower lip as his hands roamed up your thighs, igniting a trail of fire with every touch.

Abruptly, Luke pulled away, leaving you breathless. Sliding the Ghostface mask back over his face, he tilted his head, the eerie blankness of the mask only adding to the tension.

Your breathing quickened as you stared at him, the stark white mask concealing his face but doing nothing to hide the magnetic pull between them. The faintest shiver of excitement coursed through you at the sight, anticipation thrumming in your veins.

Without a word, Luke swept you off the counter, eliciting a soft yelp of surprise. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms clinging to his shoulders as he carried you to the bedroom.

Luke dropped you onto the bed with little ceremony, his posture dominating as he loomed over you. Tilting his head again, he studied you intently, his breathing heavy. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and charged.

"Strip," he commanded, his voice muffled but firm behind the mask. Your eyes widened in surprise as he pulled a small compact knife from his pocket. He brought the tip of the blade to your jawline, dragging it lightly along her skin without breaking it.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his tone softer now, almost breathless.

You swallowed thickly, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew Luke would never hurt you—he would rather die than see you in harm's way—but the adrenaline coursing through your veins only heightened your excitement. Slowly, you nodded.

Your hands moved on instinct, crossing your arms to grip the hem of your shirt. With one swift movement, you pulled it over your head, tossing it aside. You could feel Luke's gaze on you even through the mask, his presence heavy and electrifying.

Reaching behind you, you unclasped your bra, letting it slip down your arms and onto the bed. The cool air brushed your bare skin, making you shiver as you waited, your breath hitching in anticipation of what he’d do next.

Slowly, Luke dragged the tip of the knife along your skin, never pressing hard enough to break it. The cool, faintly ticklish sensation sent a cascade of goosebumps down your arms. When the blade traced lazy circles around your nipple, your breath hitched, your body responding to his calculated movements.

"Take off your pants," he commanded, his voice low and steady behind the mask.

"Leave the panties on."

You nodded, fingers fumbling slightly as you shimmied out of your pajama pants. The intensity of his gaze—or what you imagined was his gaze behind the mask—kept you on edge, anticipation crackling in the air between the two of you.

Without saying a word, Luke pushed you back onto the mattress, his hands firm yet careful. Then, with deliberate slowness, he turned and began rummaging through your bedside drawer.

Your stomach fluttered as you realized exactly what he was looking for. Your throat went dry as he pulled out your vibrator—a bright pink wand you’d grown far too accustomed to during Luke's recent absence.

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and excitement, pulse quickening as his grip tightened around the toy. "Looks like you've been keeping busy," he murmured, his tone tinged with amusement as he tilted his head. The mask obscured his face, but you could imagine the smug grin beneath it.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. "Someone had to pick up the slack."

Luke chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

"Oh, I plan to make up for it. But first..." Luke clicked the vibrator on, the low hum slicing through the quiet tension of the room as he stepped closer. "Let's see how well you've been taking care of yourself."

Instead of removing your underwear, he pressed the vibrator directly against your clothed clit. The sensation was immediate, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You arched your back, a gasp tumbling from your lips as your thighs trembled involuntarily.

Even with the thin barrier of your panties, the vibrations were overwhelming. Luke stood silently, watching your every reaction, the anonymity of the mask amplifying the heat between you two .

Your breath hitched as you glanced at him, the stark white of the mask hiding his expression, but you didn't miss the way his free hand slid down to rub against the growing strain in his pants. The sight sent another wave of desire crashing through you.

"I'm so sorry, baby," Luke murmured, his voice dripping with guilt and heat as he pressed the vibrator more firmly against you.

He leaned over you, bracing himself with one hand on the headboard while the other held the toy steady against your soaked panties.

"Sorry I left you all alone to take care of yourself. Bet you're so needy for my cock, aren't you?"

You let out a strangled moan, your hips bucking instinctively against the relentless vibrations.

"Yes," You whimpered, your voice trembling. Your head tilted back as waves of pleasure coursed through you, thighs shaking uncontrollably. You gripped the bed covers like a lifeline, your fingernails digging into the fabric as your body tensed.

The wetness soaking through your underwear made it impossible for you to ignore how close you were. Your clit throbbed, oversensitized but still chasing the high that was just out of reach. The familiar burn of your orgasm built steadily in your core, your breaths coming in sharp gasps.

Luke watched you intently, his masked head tilted in mock curiosity. The tension in his body was palpable, his free hand twitching as though resisting the urge to touch you further.

You couldn't take it anymore. Your hand shot up to remove the mask, desperate to see the expression on his face, to connect with him beyond the teasing. But Luke caught your wrist with lightning speed, his gloved fingers wrapping tightly around your arm.

"Ah, ah," he tutted, a playful edge to his voice. "You hate me, remember? Let me make it up to you without ruining the fun. No need to see my infuriating face."

Infuriatingly beautiful, you thought to yourself, biting back the words. Your breath hitched as the vibrations pushed you closer to the brink. "Please, Luke," you pleaded, your voice cracking with desperation. "I want to come."

Even though you couldn’t see it, you knew that Luke was smirking under his mask, staring at your squirming body with satisfaction. “Don’t worry, you will,” Luke chuckled. “But let me enjoy my apology, too.”

Luke's gloved hand slid down to your chest, gripping your soft flesh with a possessive hunger. His fingers kneaded your breast before pinching your hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your already oversensitized body. The sensations were overwhelming, and you let out a breathless gasp, your chest heaving as you struggled to hold yourself together.

"I'm so sorry," Luke murmured again, his voice a low rasp that seemed to reverberate through you. The apology was a trigger, pushing you completely over the edge. Your body tensed, and you came with a sharp, breathless cry, your eyes squeezing shut so tightly you feared you’d never open them again. Your back arched off the bed as waves of pleasure wracked your body, leaving you trembling and gasping for air.

Your hand instinctively reached up to grip Luke's forearm, desperate for something to anchor yourself with as the intensity of your orgasm left you shaking uncontrollably.

"That's it," Luke purred, his voice velvety and low, laced with satisfaction. "Good girl." But even as your body fell limp beneath him, the vibrator remained pressed against your clit, the relentless hum prolonging you overstimulation.

You whimpered, your thighs twitching as the sensitivity became almost unbearable. You squirmed beneath him, your breaths shallow and ragged. "Luke-" you gasped, pleading for mercy, but your words were swallowed by another tremor that shook you to your core.

Luke tilted his head, watching you writhe beneath him with a smug satisfaction that even the mask couldn't conceal. "Oh, no, baby," he murmured, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "I don't think l've apologized enough yet."

"Stay still for me," he commanded, his tone soft but firm as he reached for the knife he had discarded on the nightstand. The metallic click echoed in the room as he flipped it open, the gleam of the blade catching the dim light. He dragged it lightly across your skin, pressing just enough to leave faint red marks in its wake but never breaking the surface. The deliberate slowness of his movements made your core pulse with aching anticipation.

“Luke, please,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as unshed tears blurred your vision. The tension in your stomach coiled tighter, heat spreading through your body like wildfire. “I’m so close—please—”

Just as you neared the edge, Luke lifted the vibrator from your clit, drawing a sharp, desperate cry of protest from your lips.

"I'm making this up to you, pretty girl," he said in a low, intoxicating tone, his voice laced with an almost possessive intensity. "Every second you were left alone, I'll make up for. I promise."

Your breath hitched, your chest rising and

falling as your trembling hands gripped the sheets. You nodded eagerly, your mind clouded with desire, barely able to form coherent thoughts.

Luke's gloved fingers trailed down your flushed skin, his touch featherlight yet electrifying. The cold blade followed the curve of your chest, gliding down your stomach in an excruciatingly slow path. The contrast between the cool steel and the warmth of your skin sent shivers coursing through you, leaving you utterly at his mercy.

Without warning, Luke pressed the vibrator back against your throbbing clit, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips. Your body jolted at the sudden onslaught of sensation, the relentless hum pushing you closer to the brink once again.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, his masked face tilting as if studying your reaction. His words, his touch, and the intoxicating rhythm of the vibrator all worked together to unravel you completely.

"Do you think you could forgive me?" Luke mused aloud, his voice muffled but still dark and teasing through the mask. "Or was it worth the wait? God i, you're so wet, baby. I can't wait to see that pretty little pussy. Can't wait to fuck it."

You let out a soft, broken moan, biting the inside of your cheek as his filthy words sent another rush of heat straight to your core. The vibrator rested against your oversensitive clit, its hum reverberating through you, while Luke's gloved hand slowly traveled up and down your trembling thigh.

"Please, Lu," you begged, your voice cracking under the weight of your desperation. "I need more. I want more."

Luke chuckled, low and sinful, dragging the knife across your stomach with deliberate slowness. He traced lazy patterns on your skin, careful not to press too hard, his gentleness juxtaposed with the danger of the blade. The contrast made your head spin, desire clouding your every thought.

"You want more?" he echoed mockingly. "So greedy, aren't we?" His grip on your thigh tightened, and the blade shifted lower, gliding over your panties with just enough pressure to make your hips jerk.

"Say it," Luke demanded, his tone dropping, leaving no room for refusal. "Tell me you want my cock. That's what you're begging for, isn't it? Say it."

You shivered, cheeks wet with tears that streamed freely down your face as you let out a strangled cry. "Please, Luke, I want your cock. Fuck me—please—"

Luke's chuckle was dark and satisfied as he moved the knife with precision, slicing through the delicate fabric of your panties in one swift motion. The shredded material slid down your legs, leaving you bare and utterly exposed to his gaze.

For a moment, you held your breath as the vibrator's relentless hum continued to torment you, but mercifully, Luke pulled it away. Your thighs quivered as the overwhelming sensations subsided slightly, only for your need to grow even stronger under his unwavering attention.

Luke tossed the ruin fabric aside. “Such a shame,” He whispered, climbing on the bed and working open the button of his jeans. “I really liked those.” His gloved hands grabbed your trembling thighs, spreading them open enough to make space for himself.

He took his time admiring you, wet and glistening before him. Although the mask hid his face, you could still hear his heavy breathing. You didn’t doubt that he was devouring your body with his eyes.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” He whimpered, his gloved thumb brushing over your swollen clit, making your hips buck up in response. “So ready for me, aren’t you? This is what you’ve been thinking about, haven’t you? Me fucking you until you can’t even raise your head.”

“Yes,” You whispered, shaking with anticipation as your eyes flickered down to where he strained against his underwear. “Luke— I need you, please.”

He pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, his thumb still teasing your clit. You watched through half-lidded eyes as he pulled down his underwear, his erection quickly freed from its confines.

Luke's tip was flushed and slick with precum as he wrapped a gloved hand around his length, guiding it to your entrance with an infuriating slowness. "You've been such a good girl for me," he murmured, dragging himself along your slick folds and pausing to tease your swollen clit. His voice was thick with desire, each word dripping with intent.

"But do you think you can forgive me?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but before a single word escaped, Luke thrust into you with no warning. Your breath hitched as a sharp cry tore from your lips, back arching off the mattress as he stretched you in a way that felt both overwhelming and perfect. The days without him only amplified the sensation, the ache and fullness making your toes curl.

“Fuck,” Luke groaned, his voice slightly strained and breathless in your ear. He pressed deeper into you, burying himself to the hilt and stopping briefly to enjoy the feeling of it, of your walls wrapped tightly around him. “You feel so fucking good, so good f’me.”

“Only for you,” You gasped, feeling his gloved hand as it settled against your hip and gripped tightly. His other hand braced against the mattress next to your head.

“Y/N,” He rasped, still not moving. You clenched around him, whimpering in a desperate attempt to get him to move again. “I missed you so much.”

"I missed you,” You gasped, your voice a soft whimper as you writhed beneath him. The white mask loomed above you, adding a tantalizing mystery to the moment. You couldn't see his face, but you could imagine it perfectly—his blue eyes screwed shut, his teeth digging into the black lip ring he always toyed with when he was consumed by desire.

Your body tightened around him, adjusting to his size as waves of pleasure spread through you. Each second felt like an eternity, your core burning with need as your fingers clutched at his forearms for stability. "Lu," you whimpered, your voice breaking. "Please, I need you to move."

Luke's low chuckle reverberated through the room, the sound dark and teasing, making you clench around him involuntarily. He hissed sharply, the grip on your hip tightening as his gloved fingers pressed into your soft skin. "You're so needy, baby," he murmured, his tone dripping with smug amusement.

But he didn't make you wait any longer.

Slowly, he pulled his hips back, only to thrust forward again with deliberate intent. The drag of him inside you sent sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins, and your head fell back against the pillows, a moan spilling from your lips.

Luke’s hips snapped hungrily against you, setting a punishing pace that made you screw your eyes shut in pleasure. He watched you writhe beneath him, your moans filling the room and mixing in with his.

You couldn’t help the way your body responded to Luke’s grunts and gasps, and you arched against him— the friction driving you wild. You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm and overstimulation, so every thrust made you see stars.

“You feel so good around me,” He whimpered, his voice muffled by the mask, but the strain in his tone was evident. “So tight and warm.”

You whimpered, your legs tightening around Luke’s waist as he continued to fuck into you. The mask obscured your view of his face, but the way his body moved with such fervor made it clear that he was just as affected as you were.

His chest heaved with every thrust, and your arms slid to his broad shoulders in search for an anchor. “Luke—“ You gasped. “Harder, please, fuck me harder.”

Luke laughed darkly, his hands tightening on your waist enough that she thought it might leave bruises. You found that you didn’t quite mind. “So fucking greedy,” He growled. “But you’re such a good girl, and I can’t say no to you.”

Luke’s pace picked up. His thrusts grew harder and deeper, more desperate as he felt you clench around him. The sound of your bodies clashing together and moans filled the room, and you felt yourself begin to grow close again.

Your head trashed against the pillow. “I’m close,” You sobbed, the intensity making your body fizzle with energy. “Oh, God.” Your nails dug into Luke’s shoulders.

“Come for me, Y/N,” He commanded. Luke leaned his masked face down, brushing against your ear. “Show me how much you missed me.”

His words were all the permission you needed, arching your back off the bed as a second, more forceful orgasm washed over you. A broken moan escaped your lips, your heels digging into the small of Luke’s back.

“That’s it,” Luke cooed, his voice filled with raw desire and pride. “So beautiful when you come for me.”

Your walls fluttered around him and you whimpered, meeting his hips with your own as you rode out your high.

But Luke didn't relent. Instead, he pulled off his mask, revealing his flushed, sweaty face.

His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, his movements never slowing as his hips continued to thrust into you with relentless force.

You let out a strangled yell, your body trembling from the overwhelming sensation. "Lu—" Your voice cracked as you gasped, breathless. "I can't—too much—"

But Luke didn't seem to hear you, driven by something primal, his need for you blinding.

“No,” He growled. “You can take it, baby, you’re doing so good. I’m not finished apologizing yet.” His thumb found your swollen clit again, rubbing firm, harsh circles on you.

You whimpered, shaking your head. But the newfound attention to your sensitive bud rekindled the flame low in your belly. The buildup was so much faster this time, so much more intense and tears slid down your face.

Luke's rhythm faltered, his movements growing erratic as his breathing became heavier. "God, you feel so good," he rasped, his voice rough with raw desire. "So fucking perfect."

The tidal wave building inside you finally crashed, pulling you under with an intensity that left you breathless. You screamed his name as your orgasm tore through you, a release so powerful it left you trembling uncontrollably. Warmth flooded between them, wetness pooling beneath you and soaking the mattress.

Luke froze for a moment, his eyes widening as he processed what had just happened.

"Holy shit, Y/N," he groaned, his voice thick with awe and arousal. "You squirted—"

The slickness and the rhythmic tightening of your walls around him pushed him past the edge he'd been teetering on. With a guttural growl, Luke buried his face in your neck, his body trembling as he drove into you one last time, deep and hard.

“Fuck baby,” he groaned, pressing a kiss to the soft flesh of your neck. You were breathing heavily, your mind a foggy mess as you looked into your boyfriend’s deep blue eyes.

He slid down your thighs, gently prying them open before leaning in to lick you clean. You let out a tired whimper, your body still slick and hypersensitive. The touch of Luke's tongue sent shivers through you—equal parts pleasure and overstimulation.

When he was satisfied, he rolled off you and climbed out of bed, peeling off his soaked costume while you watched in a cozy, contented silence. Once he was done, Luke settled back beside you, brushing a tender kiss against your lips, a soft contrast to the intensity that you had just shared.

When Luke pulled away and glanced at the mess on the mattress, a mischievous grin spread across his face. “So, I’m taking this as your way of saying you’ve forgiven me?” he teased, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your still-trembling thigh.

You ran your hands through his messy, sweat-dampened hair, your nails grazing his scalp. “I don’t know,” you murmured, a teasing smile curving your lips. “Throw in a Plan B, and we’ll call it even.”

Luke chuckled, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips before pulling back just enough to smirk. “Deal.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

send in your requests pls!!! hope you guys enjoyed 🤞

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I genuinely felt that Book 7 had a strong start. I didn’t know it could go down hill so quickly once the dreams started dragging out. Its pacing issues really destroyed any hype it established during the earlier parts. I think Book 7 was the strongest up until Silver confronted his inner turmoil. Idia’s dreams were also reasonable as well. Hopefully Malleus and Lilia get more screen time to compensate for their absence during the middle bulk of book 7.

[Referencing this post!]

IT’S SUCH A SHAME 😭 The first third of book 7 (parts 1/the start to 100ish/the end of Lilia’s dream) was SO good… and then as soon as hit the dreamventure portion, we crashed and burned OTL

Sometimes I’m generous enough to extend the part of book 7 I thought was good from parts 1-100 to parts 1-115 (the end of Idia’s flashback explaining how he had been woken up). I basically only think Idia’s dream was “meh, acceptable enough” because when experiencing it for the first time, I thought Idia’s dream was the ONLY one we were seeing in this capacity. I believed that Idia’s dream was getting this “special” treatment since we had also witnessed Ortho “waking” in a unique way. Both of them are the main “villains” from the previous book, so I thought this was book 7’s way of bringing them back to take down Malleus. It… technically was that, but I wasn’t expecting Idia to announce his “recruit everyone!!!1!” plan 2 parts later 💀 I expected, now that we had reunited with both Shroud brothers, there would only be like maybe 2-3 updates left for book 7 to account for strategizing, finding a way to truly wake up in the real world, and then kicking Malleus’s tail. BOY, WAS I WRONG ON THAT FRONT 🫩 (<- deeply traumatized, this is my OB origin story/j)

The pacing problems were but one of the many factors bogging book 7 down; I also dislike the inconsistent tone between dreams, lack of stakes/urgency, lack of learning anything new and meaningful, over-explanations, focus on fanservice and contrivances, lack of focus on relevant characters, frequent in-your-face declarations of character development, and the very obvious patterns set for every dream (meaning they were mostly predictable). It sucks specially for the OB boys because their segments are the longest, involve the “I have/will become a better person”/“my past self was pathetic” speeches, and have the most contrived scenes I have ever witnessed (such as everyone in their dorm having to use their UM at least once, even if it makes little sense to). And because everything drags on for SO long, they try to make the build-up super emotional to compensate. But it gets to the point where it feels insincere or unearned by the time we finally get to the “shouting as they wake up” part because the dreams are held together with painter’s tape… 🙂‍↕️

I’m only left feeling like I’m a rag doll that was tossed onto a roller coaster and jerked everywhere. It’s fun and makes my emotions run high in the moment, sure. But once I’m off that ride (I’ve consumed the content) and sat with the experience for a while, I reflect on it and realize I did not actually enjoy it and the roller coaster was shaky (from meh writing + plot holes) and about to collapse the entire time I was on it.

Malleus really got shafted hard in his own book too??? Like this man hardly shows up 😭 and Lilia is gone for 2/3 of a book where he should be relevant?? They honestly NEED a book 8 so they both have a Mouse Mandated excuse to come back and actually do something more. Malleus especially needs that because book 7 also did us the disservice of TWO time skips after his OB (one X days, another X weeks) and completely glosses over any complicated feelings or struggles he may face in the aftermath. We immediately jump to him when Malleus is at a point where he claims he understands what he did was wrong???? When that feels inconsistent with how he has previously struggled to understand these things? Some OB boys recognized the error of their ways automatically, but I find it a little hard to believe that Malleus (who failed to learn anything about humans in the 2-3 years he has spent at NRC in his Dorm Uniform vignettes) suddenly “gets it”. It feels like an easy cop-out for Twst to write themselves out of the hole they dug with Malleus’s character and now it’s on book 8 to follow up on that and patch up all the new holes 7’s writing creates.

[ducksido]

Lisp with accent (overblot boys)

nayeonlove asks: (from my lisp post)

THIS IS LITERALLY SO ME!! Can I ask if you could do them w/ a S/O that has a lisp when they talk which can lead to them having an accent when they speak🙏? (Coming from someone who has a lisp,mostly comes out when im speaking Spanish sometimes english)

Riddle Rosehearts

At first, Riddle mistakes your accent and lisp for a result of nerves or improper enunciation—he might sternly (but not cruelly) correct you out of habit.

Once he realizes it’s your natural way of speaking, his tone softens immensely. He actually blushes the first time you say his name with your slight lisp—“Riddle” becomes “Riddleth,” and it melts him a little inside.

He’s surprisingly protective. If anyone mocks you for it, expect him to go full dorm leader mode—angry, elegant, and furious.

Over time, he grows to find it endearing, especially when you’re passionate or flustered, stumbling over longer words.

“You needn’t feel embarrassed about how you speak… It’s quite charming. I meant it.”

Leona Kingscholar

He snorts the first time he hears it. Not out of cruelty—just surprise. You hit him with something like “Thun’s too hot today” and he nearly chokes on his drink.

Teases you mercilessly at first. “Gonna melt in the thun, huh?” But the more time he spends around you, the more fond that teasing becomes.

Secretly really likes hearing you whisper to him—your voice has this soft cadence that soothes him. It makes him feel like he’s hearing something special.

If anyone else makes fun of you? They’re getting a glare sharp enough to kill on the spot.

“Tch. It’s cute when you talk like that… Don’t go changin’ it.”

Azul Ashengrotto

He overthinks it at first. Tries to "help" you speak more clearly, not because he wants you to change, but because he assumes you want to change it.

Once you express that this is just how you talk—and that you’re okay with it—he immediately adjusts and apologizes.

Your unique way of speaking becomes something he cherishes. It makes your voice stand out in his mind, and he starts to recognize your presence even from across the room.

He finds it soothing—there’s a softness to it he grows addicted to. And when you say “Azul” in your way? Instant blush.

“May I ask… could you say my name again? I… like the way it sounds coming from you.”

Jamil Viper

Jamil notices it immediately and clocks the accent it creates, but says nothing—he’s too polite and too self-aware of people’s discomfort around speech quirks.

When you notice him being quiet and ask if your lisp bothers him, he immediately reassures you: “No. Never. It’s just… I didn’t want to make you feel self-conscious.”

He secretly thinks it makes your voice sound musical, almost like a rhythm. He finds it beautiful, especially when you get excited and talk fast, tripping a little.

If you’re ever insecure about it, Jamil goes into full comfort mode. He’d even start mimicking your cadence to show solidarity.

“I think your voice suits you. Don’t change it—not for me, not for anyone.”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil definitely notices. He’s hyper-attuned to speech patterns, after all.

He may offer you pronunciation exercises only if you bring up wanting to improve clarity—but not to erase your lisp. He’s very firm that your voice is part of your charm.

Actually? Vil starts to think your voice is marketable. Unique voices stand out in stage performances, and yours has that soft charisma that sticks with people.

He never lets you feel inferior because of it. In fact, he will publicly praise you for your elegance and “refreshing natural tone.”

“Your voice is like a whisper caught in sunlight. Don’t let anyone make you dull it.”

Idia Shroud

Freezes. First time you talk to him, his brain blue-screens because the combo of your lisp and accent makes you sound like a character from a niche game he loves.

His inner monologue is a mess: “Why is this NPC-voiced angel talking to me?! Oh no they’re cute—wait, focus!”

He finds your voice soothing, like white noise. He starts memorizing every voice line you speak around him and replays them in his head like a comfort loop.

If you ever joke about your lisp being annoying, he panics: “NO?? IT’S SOFT AND PERFECT AND I—I mean. Uh. It’s... good. Very good.”

“I-if you were in a game, I’d never skip your dialogue. Ever. You sound... special.”

Malleus Draconia

Malleus listens very closely when people speak, and your lisp catches his attention instantly.

He becomes genuinely curious about how your accent and lisp affect your speech patterns, and he asks questions very respectfully.

When he hears you say “Thpelleldom” instead of “Spell-Dome,” he smiles—not at you, but because it’s different. And Malleus adores the different.

He’ll sometimes repeat your speech patterns affectionately, like when couples mimic each other’s quirks. It's his form of love.

“May I hear you say that again, child of man? I find your voice... fascinating. And rather enchanting.”

[dmbakura]

Thank you for all the White Rabbit content, I adore how you write him. Do you have an advice on keeping him character when putting him in all these different scenarios? I have ideas I want to put on paper myself lol

obviously this is just my take on and I'm not an expert but when I write anything I always try and focus on the character's voice, their cadence of speech and their mannerisms. there's a lot of subjectivity of course when it comes to portraying things like their personality and choices, especially when it comes to fanfic and AU where you can play around a lot more with what they do, but nailing down the voice is I think what helps me the most when keeping someone in character. if I can't picture them realistically saying it, then I don't write it.

white rabbit in particular has a very eloquent speech pattern, sharp, theatrical, projects an air of confidence, a lot of very intentional word choice, and tends to alternate between smooth, flowery, patronizing language and deep, low growls when he's angry or trying to make a point. he doesn't seem like the type to swear (doesnt cuss at all in the show if i recall correctly) though I can imagine him dropping a "fuck" or a "shit" in certain contexts (vergil is the same way to me honestly lmfao)

Hoon Lee (his actor) does a really amazing job with his performance, and gives rabbit this underlying tension to almost everything he says, like rabbit is 2 seconds away from snapping and going on a tirade at all times (which he basically is.)

I think another important thing to remember with white rabbit is that his domineering and in control demeanor is also just that: a mask. being "the rabbit" is a role he assumed after the tragedy completely broke him. I think there's a lot of dissociation and survivors guilt to dig into with his character, amidst all the cruelty and rage and grief. there's also shades of pettiness and immaturity buried in there too.

thank you for the ask!

[rain-day-today]

Hey ! Do you have hcs about Gajeel and Juvia's brotp plz ? (Sorry if it comes out of the blue, I'm just curious...)

OF COURSE!!!

Gajeel and Juvia Brotp headcanons!

Juvia and Gajeel both came to phantom at the same time. Like jose went to pick up gajeel and on the way back found juvia. So like, they’ve been locked in since day one

Since phantom wasn’t a guild where you show your connection Juvia and Gajeel were never openly affectionate with each other or anyone else so their friendship really developed in private.

Juvia’s first language wasn’t the common one and neither was Gajeel’s, so they both had a horrible lisp and speech patterns. This led to them not talking in the common language when in private and learning a bit of each others instead

When they joined fairy tail they became more confident in their speech but still talked to each other in their first language.

Gajeel used to walk her home from jobs because “ course i'm not here for you, im just going this way” and “tch- you think a little rain’s gonna bother a tough guy like me?”

He made her little thumb caps for when she sews

Juvia bought gajeel his first guitar and has never regretted it

Juvia listens to heavy “metal” while Gajeel prefers “Blues”

They are both really good at baking

Juvia sewed Gajeel a dark blue apron with silver embroidery

Since neither knew how to cook or do laundry or anything else,they made up their own way of how to do it(Gajeel was too proud to ask for help and they were like 10), so now they both have the same really weird way of doing household tasks.

“Erza-san? What do you mean you don't punch the water out of the bed sheets when you do laundry?” “Of course it's normal! Gajeel-kun does it too!”

When Juvia moved into fairy hills Gajeel was SO pissed that he couldn’t visit her. he even tried to fight Erza to let him in until Juvia dragged him out.

Gajeel puffs up his chest whenever Grays around and tries to telepathically send death threats.

When gajeel first met juvia he instantly was reminded of wendy and instantly activated big brother mode.

Gajeel isn’t a big fan of being a destructive mage he prefers being a protective figure

Juvia used to focus alot on getting stronger and nothing else since she couldn’t do anything else. Now she gets to focus on what she likes and and finding what makes her happy

Juvia uses gajeel as a listening device. He picks up the best tea

Juvia had a cat when she was young and gajeel wishes he could have met her

They both like crunchy food the most

Juvia loves soap operas and forces gajeel to watch them too, now he can recite the plot of 560 episodes of desperate dames

They both hate crowded environments (dragonslayer senses + anxiety) but enjoy people so they suck it up.

They both runs cold and love sipping hot chocolate in the winter

Gajeel’s favorite month is the fall

Juvia is a late winter/early spring type of girl

They use the same hair care products

Gajeel cuts her hair

Juvia was there when Gajeel got some of his piercings and it made her never want to get another piercing ever agai

Juvia makes the costumes for gajeels shows( the white one in particular)

Juvia originally wanted to retire from magic after phantom lord arc because she since her rain stopped and she was beaten, she had lost her identity of being a sad and powerful mage

Gajeel convinced her to go stay in the game for a bit with him which led to her joining fairy tail and bringing Gajeel along

They both got that monochromatic style

Big collectors

Gajeel prefers vinyls and posters while juvia likes cds and photos

Gajeel is a Concert geek but now also goes to raves

Gajeel is lowkey a grandpa when it comes to abbreviations and juvia tries to explain it but in actuality she doesn’t know what they mean either she just thinks she does

Juvia is a music snob but she has incredibly weird music taste (she likes gajeels singing unironically)

juvia Tried to get into the fairy tail equivalent of kpop but couldn’t do it. All her stan stuff is in a box in one of gajeel's closet

Gajeel has 3 times as much clothes as juvia because she likes using him as a mannequin

Juvia convinced Gajeel to make a baby name book when they were like 13

Juvia is a dog person ( Gajeel doesn’t know)

Gajeel is a food snob and doesn’t like meat unless its like RARE

Gajeel never gets sick bit loves taking care of people, makes him feel useful and less destructive

Gajeel likes to hide peoples names in his lyrics and has a couple of songs with references to his friend

At his wedding Juvia is the officiant

At Her wedding Gajeel walks her down the aisle

Hope this was what you were looking for! If you want anymore my brain is a fountain of Brotps!

[tessa-liam]

W.I.P. Wednesday

Marabelle Series

Chapter 20 - 'Ascension'

"You know?!" Sophie was open-mouthed in utter disbelief as she paced around the fountain. She didn't know whether to be mad at him or... really appreciative of his insight. "Did my aunt really call you to tell you about it?!"

"Yes," Maxwell looked guilty as charged and quickly added. "But don't blame Mom. She didn't really have any other options, especially when my father started freaking out. Mom just wanted me to help you, to calm you down, and well... this is kinda what I do best."

She bit her lip, feeling overwhelmed with a strange sense of gratitude. He had come through for her when she most needed a friend, just as he had always done. How had she never seen it before? Uncle’s actions were insufferable. She suddenly felt like an idiot.

"God, you're too good to be true," she huffed in annoyance and jabbed him lightly on the shoulder.

He grinned back at her, looking uncharacteristically sheepish and shook his head, shrugging it off.

"Trust me," he sighed. "I know. Mom told me what you said to my father. I... have a lot of complicated feelings about what he has done," he trailed off with a wave of his hands. "You'll hear about them sometime."

Sophie looked up at him curiously. "About your dad? Are these secrets known at court? Your mom was all for you - supportive...'"

Smoke and Mirrors Series

Chapter 15 - 'Catch and Release'

The cell was silent.

Outside, distant footsteps come and go.

Riley is curled in the corner, her face pale, but her eyes fierce. Her wrists are bleeding where the restraints cut into her skin—yet the metal is now visibly worn.

Pain is temporary. Focus is everything.

She shifts position, pushing the sharp edge of the stone harder against the weakened metal clasp. A snap. She freezes.

Then—

CLINK.

One wrist is free.

Breathless, Riley focused...

'Come on... come on...'

She worked on the second cuff with trembling fingers. Another snap—both hands free. She exhaled shakily, trying not to cry in relief.

Riley stood, wobbling slightly, the blood rushing back into her limbs. She crossed to the tray near the door, and broke off a piece of metal from its bent corner—makeshift weapon.

The hallway beyond her cell is dim. She studied the lock. Standard. She grabbed the empty tin cup, leans close to the bars, and began to tap it in a rhythmic pattern.

'They have to be listening.'

Counting. Predictable patrols…

Sure enough, footsteps approached. A guard, bored, holding a flashlight. He peered in.

"You’re awake. Cute. Thought you’d sleep through your own ransom."

He unlocked the door and stepped inside, clearly overconfident.

Turning the Page Series

Chapter 18 - 'To Have and To Hold'

Footsteps approached, light but familiar.

“I thought I’d find you hiding out here,” Olivia said softly, her lilac bridesmaid dress catching the morning light.

Liam turned, smiling with quiet warmth. “I needed a moment. Before everything begins.”

Olivia joined him under the trellis, her gaze sweeping over the distant coastline. “Funny. You used to sneak off to avoid state dinners and speeches. Now you’re sneaking off before marrying the woman you love.”

“I’m not avoiding it,” Liam said quickly. “I just… didn’t expect to feel like this.”

Olivia looked up at him. “Like what?”

“Like I’m standing on the edge of something so big, so final, it’s hard to breathe. Not because I doubt her—God, never that—but because I know this isn’t just a ceremony. It’s the rest of our lives.”

Olivia reached out, gently straightening the collar of his shirt. “You’ve always carried more than your share, Liam.

Duty. History. The crown. But you chose her.

And that means you finally get to have something that’s just yours.”

He studied her face, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Do you remember that night in Lythikos? The blizzard? You brought me coffee with cinnamon, and we talked about what kind of king I wanted to be.”

Olivia’s smile grew wistful. “I remember thinking you’d never stop putting everyone else before yourself.”

Liam nodded. “You were right. And yet, here I am… about to put myself first. For once. With Riley.”

Olivia touched his arm. “You’re not choosing yourself instead of Cordonia. You’re choosing someone who strengthens you. Who sees you. That’s not selfish. That’s smart.”

He exhaled, his shoulders easing slightly. “You’ve always known what to say.”

She gave him a mock stern look. “And don’t you forget it.”

They stood in silence for a moment, listening to the cicadas hum lazily in the garden around them.

“Liv,” Liam said softly, “thank you. For being there in every version of my life—crown or no crown, chaos, or calm.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she replied. “Just promise me you’ll dance with your bride like no one’s watching. Even if Bertrand is counting the steps.”

Liam chuckled, some of the tension finally lifting. “Deal.”

As she turned to head back toward the villa, Liam called after her, voice low but clear.

“Hey, Liv?”

She looked back over her shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here today. It wouldn’t feel right without you.”

Olivia’s eyes softened. “It wouldn’t feel right to be anywhere else.”

She left him with a wink and the scent of jasmine in the breeze, and Liam stood a moment longer, heart steadier, breath calmer.

The next time he’d stand still would be at the altar.

And this time, he’d be ready.

To be continued…

✨️💖💖💖✨️💖💖💖✨️💖💖💖✨️💖💖💖✨️💖💖💖✨️

@choicesficwriterscreations

✨️Perma-tags: @beau1811 @bascmve01 @twinkleallnight @dutifullynuttywitch @lovingchoices14 @alj4890 @busywoman @bardic-tales @kingliam2019 @malblk21 @delmissesryanandcassi @selina012 @differenttyphoonwerewolf

✨️Liam x Riley: @ladylamrian @snoopdogcone @jared2612 @queenwalton @rafasgirl23415 @walkerdrakewalker @loreofyore @fadingreveries

✨️Liam x Sophie: @snoopdogcone @jared2612 @kyra75 @chiarakole @waffleseggsbacon @scourge-lover @classylady1234 @thethingsidoforausername @belencha77 @soniamayo

[denv2]

Felix the Cat characters! (recent comics focus)

Felix, Kitty, Inky, Winky, Xilef, and even Alex, who isn't in the comic, lol.

I had a lot of fun drawing them! I love cartoon déforme.

It has a lot of my favorite feelings... I don't know if you can feel it ^~^

Below is a chat about each drawing!

Felix, Xilef, and Alex have legs that look a little too long... When I drew the leg bending pose, I drew it so that it stretched out coolly, so it looks longer ㅋㅋ

The facial expressions are all customized to my taste! Did I mention I love the half-moon eyes? It's literally my taste 😋

I actually like Kitty's cat lady-style eyes with the slightly lowered eyelids that make her look a bit sassy, but I also like her normal wide-eyed default eyes that give her a sweet expression! I also like to draw a sweet Kitty, so this time I focused more on the adorable side of her.

I drew Xilef because I wanted to draw both the hooded version and the unmasked version! Honestly, it would be a shame to only draw the hood, right?

I'm actually not a huge fan of Xilef (although I do have a moderate crush on him for being a Felix franchise character), but I think I figured out some of the differences between him and Alex while drawing him this time. They're definitely different characters, even if they have similarities! There are similarities in their speech patterns and attitudes, but Xilef is different in that he's a multiverse parallel to Felix, and Alex is a bit different in that he's a contrasting doppelganger role of Felix... I know I'm stating the obvious. But I can really feel the difference in those features.

There is also a little something to be said about the poses of the three characters.

I drew Felix first, then Xilef, and finally Alex, so the poses for Xilef and Alex were based on Felix. They all have one leg bent, which is a common pose!

However, the difference is that xilef's contrast with Felix is left to right, and Alex's is up and down! Then there's the difference in their symbol items! Felix's open magic bag and Alex's closed unknown magic bag. Xilef is holding a magic cane!

I also wanted to make sure there was a difference between Felix the black cat and the two white cats in contrast. xilef definitely captures a lot of the feel of how I draw Felix, because he's the multiverse villain Felix! So his face is very similar to the Felix I drew this time, with a definite half-moon eye.

Alex doesn't look like that. In fact, I tried to draw a sharp eye with no eyelid expression on top of it, but it didn't feel like what I wanted. The Alex in me was more of a round eye with the eyelid kind of drooping down, so the eyelid expression went in!

And then there's something about the mouth! Felix's cool smile is contrasted by Xilef's mouth, which is more of a grimace than a smile. And Alex has the same smirk, but with a funny gap-toothed grin.

I said the direction of the pose at the beginning, so I'll move on! Personally, I wanted them both to contrast with Felix in different ways lol.

As a side note, I put 3 figures in a row this time and I like how xilef is pointing cane towards Felix because it's exquisite!

Actually, if I put Alex on top of Felix, it would show the top to bottom ratio of Felix and Alex, but I think Felix should be the first one 😚

I think I've said all I need to say, but I'd be remiss if I didn't mention Inky Winky. I actually didn't distinguish between the two, I just drew them together and thought about who I was going to choose right before I put the initials on the hat at the end!

But then I realized that Winky has a bit more of a goofy vibe to him? And Winky is Red... Is there a rule that Red is more of a troublemaker?

But actually, it's not really a one-sided relationship, it's a two-way street, so they don't really fall under that rule lol. They're cute little guys, and I've enjoyed watching episodes of their classic black and white cartoons!

Okay, that's really all I have to say, I can't think of anything else lol.

I'm going to draw a comic with the three of them later, Felix, Xilef and Alex, so maybe there'll be more of them. I'm kinda obsessed with these three similar cats haha

[sharksarewaterdogs]

Just finished Andor, so some thoughts:

Over all, I think it was a really good show, and I'm really going to miss it. I kind of wish I'd dragged it out more lol, but I don't think I could've paced myself to an episode a week.

I really loved the development of Kleya that we got, and now she's def one of my new favorite characters.

We got criminally little of K2, but I loved (most of) what we got. (Tbh Cass & Wilmon pausing to load him up in the middle of the massacre landed a little awkwardly imo but I can kind of understand the decision.)

I... did not love how they handled Bix. I'm glad she lived and got a relatively happy ending, but having her just up and leave to further Cass's potential, not even tell him face to face just bail, and never tell him about what is presumably his child... idk, it felt like a rather gross, lazy, and cliché handling of a female character. "The Man is important to serving the cause and saving the world and the woman is to go back to the farm and have his legacy so his sacrifice is all worth it" is the vibe it was giving and that is an old and misogynist trope I was not happy to see playing out here. Felt like a Bring Honor To Us All "a man by bearing arms, a girl by bearing sons" moment. I'm not saying it's wrong for a woman—especially one who has done and been through so much—to get to live in a relative peace and have a child; it's more about the narrative of HOW this was handled, how it lines up with a misogynist trope because of how it was presented and the choices she made to get there, that I don't like. Again, Bix getting to live in relative peace as a mom is not the problem; HOW it was written—ye olde "I shall leave so as not to drag you down, great man", breaking up via text, and never telling him about (presumably) his kid, is a cheap and lazy way of getting there that does disservice to her character, imo.

Still really did not like how they handled Cinta's death either and think it did, at the very least, skirt the line of Bury Your Gays. Not so much because a lesbian character died, but because (again) of how it was handled. Idk, something smells about the way a lesbian character and WOC, who was near completely absent throughout the rest of the season, was given the ol' lesbian-death-by-stray-bullet in a way that was NOT, actually, given the same kind of weight that the death of other side characters was, directly after her moment of happiness/declaration of love. Yes, other characters die, and I personally agree that Vel and Cinta should not have had guaranteed plot armor in this particular show; but this show and this decision don't exist in a vacuum. HOW they killed her, how they showed the fallout, doesn't sit right with me.

It fits the pattern of how lesbian characters tend to get treated in media, which feels lazy and disrespectful. It felt poorly done, not only in method and timing, but also in the aftermath of it. The moment was cut with Luthen & Kleya practically giggling together and Bix having a BAMF scene—two scenes of relief and triumph. The focus on her storyline wasn't even about her. It wasn't even so much about the pain of her white lover—which itself would be wrong but ig there would be SOME connection to her in the hole she left behind—as it was emphasizing the feelings of the rando (white) guy who killed her. In a vacuum, sure, Vel's speech is interesting; as the narrative cap to Cinta's life, it's a weird ass choice imo.

Also I still think Vel would've been the more interesting one to die; Cinta just got a chance to be vulnerable, so ripping that away from her would hit more than ripping her from Vel did, for me. I know it might've been due to scheduling conflicts with the actress, but considering how little screentime Vel had after it... idk, would swapping her out for Cinta have been that difficult? It would have balanced out how absent Cinta was, too, and remove the lowkey racist feel that barely giving Cinta any screentime and bringing her back just to kill her had...

I do think it was a generally good show, I'm sad to see it end, and I've been bugging my friends to watch it and give me their thoughts. But I don't think it's above criticism, and I'm really getting uncomfortable with the way some fans try to shut down that criticism with moral shaming—the "are you really gonna be so petty and shallow over some perceived flaws when the political themes are so important?" types when yes, it's actually possible to... digest political themes (esp those that for me are preaching to the choir) AND criticise mishandling of women and lesbians, esp if that mishandling veers accidentally into harmful tropes that do a disservice to the political themes as well. Or if it's not moral shaming, it's sneering about a lack of ""media literacy"" bc catching onto themes that are retrodding tired and problematic old ground is... stupid, apparently?? Idk. I'm not saying all criticism is in-depth and well-thought-out, nor that it's all right/everyone must agree with it, but I wish we could ditch the moral shaming and digs at intelligence for daring to criticise, and let people discuss it more civilly. (Civil disagreements are so underrated actually, I love seeing different opinions that help broaden my own on things, even when I don't agree with them.) But I don't think anybody's actually read this far lol, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ .

I'm gonna miss this show & need to go rewatch Rogue One now. ✌️

[bakaramia]

I actually really like the idea of Vox having had a stutter when he was alive. Vox speaks in a very rhythmic way, putting emphasis at pretty regular intervals, very syncopated. This super controlled way of speaking, with focus on a fluid speech pattern, is one of the handful of ways speech therapists help patients overcome stutters, and that rhythmic speech pattern coupled with the way he literally glitches through words when he’s worked up and not focusing on his rhythm rlly drives that home for me.

I’m just v taken with the concept of Vox having this stutter from when he was a kid, and so studiously and rigorously learning how to control it for the sake of his image and his aspirations to work on television, that no one has any idea he has it bc he keeps it so controlled. Which does make the idea that Alastor can get him to drop it enough to fall back into that stutter rlly fun.

[thetxtdevil]

The Vampire Hunter pt. 1

Vampire Kai x Hunter Reader

summary: In a supernatural world, you find your city facing troubles with a particular vampire who is threatening many humans lives, luckily you're a hunter for the supernatural and you intend to capture the bloodsucker.

content: mentions of blood, vampires and other supernatural beings, soobin makes an appearance

word count: 1.5k

pt. 1 -> pt. 2 -> pt. 3

in a world of humans and the supernatural,

strange things become more normal as time goes on. ghosts roam the shelves of public libraries, werewolves guide other creatures and humans through woodsy trails, all lives became less segregated. while there is the police force patrolling the safety of humans, there are supernatural hunters keeping the balance of the supernatural race and human race. both sides find this beneficial as it kept humans from any harm of stronger beasts and creatures away from retaliating humans.

you were one of the said supernatural hunters, a good one at that. so to your dismay when you attend the city's hunter meeting you find out that there was a feral vampire in the area. the lead hunter shows a board of a map of the city showing where this vampire has been and pictures of victims the bloodsucker has close to having killed. you sit there squinting at the map in focus.

"and why haven't we captured this vampire yet?" you interrupt the speech.

the lead stops mid-sentence trying to find the words. "ah well, y/n you see they're too hard to track, we don't know their personal information, and no clan has claimed them"

you lean back at your chair nodding. you understand the hardships of a vampire without a clan, even though they are independent creatures they tend to do well with a support group.

"i'll take the assignment."

"y/n, many hunters have tried but as you can see some of them came back dangerously wounded"

you look at the board recognizing some faces, "really, i wonder why you didn't put me on this assignment in the first place."

you snatch the folder about the wild vampire out of the lead's hands. the leader roll his eyes at your cockiness.

"be careful y/n"

✥✥✥

it was a brisk night in the city, gusts of wind drifted litter from the ground into the air, people hugging themselves to keep warm. you walk the sidewalk that framed the many tall buildings of the city. citizens passing you minding their businesses not noticing your attired covered with classic vampire weapons and in your hand a heavy trash bag. you come upon an alleyway that seemed like a perfect place to satisfy the hunger of a blood-lust vampire. the first steps in the alley glowed golden hues from the street lights, but the further you went in it was dark radiating blue from the night sky.

when studying the vampire's whereabouts you concluded that this creature did not have a certain pattern other than drinking secretly in alleyways like this one. reaching in your pocket for gloves putting them on to open the black trash bag that held pig hearts. pig hearts were not only similar to size and appearance but the blood was also vaguely similar. one by one you laid the muscles zigzag until it reached the end of the lane. here you stood with a wooden stake in you hand pointing straight out to stab any visitors that come your way.

hours passing by you shift in your spot, becoming uncomfortable from standing in one position for a long time. you knew this could be an all nighter, but the cool weather and silence made you ache. then you hear pigeons from the street all at once taking flight, you knew someone was coming. you blink and open your eyes to see a silhouette of a tall man at the end of the alley. your grip on the stake was tight.

the man walks into the back alley investigating its current state. bending down to pick up one of the pig hearts taking a closer look. the man's eyes widen after smelling the muscle concluding that this is what he was smelling a few blocks back. he opens his mouth to snack on the bloody meat.

a gust of wind brushes against your skin, the air moving towards the preoccupied vampire. the creature's red eyes glows when he catches the scent of you. he looks over your way to see your shadowed figure standing at the end of the alley. you felt a flash of wind on your face but it wasn't the air it was the vampire himself now barely an inch from you.

the vampire hovers over you breathing heavy, looking down at you with his bright crimson eyes. his vision is blurry from your intoxicating scent, so blurry that he doesn't notice that he got too close to your stake. his chest impelled and his senses overloaded, you had enough strength to grab his arm to twist him around so now his back is towards your chest and fangs away from you. the pain engulfs the vampire which sends his in a downward spiral loosing conciseness.

✥✥✥

in your cabin, you sit on your reading chair taking sips of your freshly made coffee. the rising sun seeps through the tall windows of the room making the space feel warm. you smile to yourself as you watch the news casting on your living room tv. the news anchor claims that the spontaneous vampire attacks that have been happening in the city has been subsided.

as soon as you get comfortable in your chair covering your body with a blanket and taking a big gulp of your coffee, you hear distinct noises. you sigh knowing your cozy morning will have to come to an end. you scramble out of your chair to walk to the noises of groans and chains clashing together. opening the door of what would be a guest room but now your supernatural jail.

the vampire was sitting up on the bed which was set in the middle of the room. handcuffed to make sure the reckless vampire doesn't use his powers for his sake. the man was wearing baggy clothes covering his lean physique only his top is torn from your chest stab. thanks to his immortal abilities the wound is now gone. he was slumped over, long dark brown hair hiding his face, his nose was the only facial feature you could see of his. from your experience you could tell this was a newly turned vampire as he had a modern look to him and no courtesy of his blood hunt.

"why... how am i here?" his raspy voice fills the room

"you know why and i brought you here"

the man clenches his jaw, tugging hard at the silver chains.

"i have my ways to get you the way you are now" you smirk to yourself, only you know the struggle you had dragging the tall stature out of that alley all the way to your cabin in the outskirts of the city. "listen, you will now live with me until you get your act together, i don't want to see anymore victims falling prey to you"

"but,,, it tastes so good" he dramatically lies down on the plush bed.

you refrain from chuckling at the pathetic sight before you. your suspicions of the man being a new vampire were being confirmed as a old vampires would instantly insert their dominance towards you. although his weak front was shown, you were not all too comfortable with the vampire so you keep your distance and leave him to sulk.

walking out of the groggy room that held the vampire. you close the door to the room and stood there leaning your forehead on the wood. this bloodsucker needed training and fast because you don't know how long those chains are going to last. reaching for your phone to look through your contacts many were mystical friends and it was time to call your good ol' vampire friend. you walk back to your blanketed reading chair with little knowledge that the captured man was watching intently to your shadowed footsteps from the crack of the closed door. i'll get a taste of that sweetness someday.

holding the phone up to your ear while you play with the loose strings of your blanket, a few rings went by until you hear a familiar voice, "y/n long time no see... i assume you caught that vampire"

"yeah no help from you, soobin" you roll your eyes, even though you're friends, vampires still have their antics. the supernatural lived equally with humans they still preferred to do what they did before modern days. that being said you weren't surprised that soobin, a well developed vampire, wouldn’t fret when there was a vampire going around having the time of their eternal life.

"since i have the baby vampire in custody could you help train him?"

"what do i get out of it?"

"hmm, you can add another vampire to your clan"

soobin hums through the phone, noticing the hesitation you let out an audible sigh.

"fine, i'll try to find a way to have a whole blood bank truck for you to have for a whole night"

"sounds good, but you know blood taste much better straight out of a human..."

"do you know who you're talking to?"

"yeah okay..." soobin sighs

just like that you two begin planning the training for the little bat. hoping you and the new vampire will someday become good friends.

✤✣✤ -> pt. 2

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

[3r-tree]

my attempt on making a limbus oc but i decided to take inspiration from a children novel instead.

this is just a clean sketch, i might do a proper art for her later, maybe... in the meantime, i will dump some ideas about her.

Alice Pleasance Liddell (or Alice Liddell because she can't be bothered to write her full name)

She's based on two people: Alice in Alice's Adventures in the Wonderland and the real life that inspired the fictional character, Alice Pleasance Liddell.

One of the youngest sinner in the group (similar with Sinclair age-wise)

Originally from T Corp (I definitely can see her, Heathcliff, and Yi Sang bonding up because of their experience with T Corp)

Has background in medicine before joining LCB, although she thought her knowledge in medicine is useless because of Dante (Alice Liddell is a volunteer in Red Cross and her younger sister actually pursues her education in medicine).

Has a knack in drawing and writing (Alice Liddell in a painter also likes to paint)

Has a younger sister that she often plays together when their private teacher is not around.

Knows a man that told her and her story wacky yet entertaining stories when they escaped from their private teacher. She knows him as "Mr. Dodgson". He is the person that ignites Alice's imaginative side. She and her sister got seperated by Mr. Dodgson by her mother because she doesn't like her children spend time with "lowly Backstreet people". She hides her whimsy and inquisitive side that she inherits from Mr. Dodgson since her mother doesn't like it because "that's not how civilized person acts".

Her father has connection to Dieci Association (Henry Liddell, Alice's father is a vice-chancellor in Christ Church in Oxford University)

Looks rigid and awkward at first, although she needs time to warms up.

She specifically raised by her mother to marry a rich man to elevate their social status so she's really careful with her image. Said man actually got interested in her when she's not in her maintaining-a-perfect-image mode.

Their relationship (it was still a friendship at that time) almost got accepted by his mother until his mother rejected her because she thought Alice is not from a powerful family and was too "free" to be with her sickly son. (Inspired by Alice Liddell's acquaintance with Prince Leopold who suffers from hemophilia at that time).

I have this urge to change her weapon name to vorpal but it will be too similar with Sinclair's vogel.

Alice's Adventure in the Wonderland is different for any children stories at that time because it only focus on entertain rather than telling a moral, basically ending a didacticism era in Victorian children books. The book also a criticism to Victorian rigid society. Her canto would be a criticism about how rigid the society is and push her to enjoy life as she likes. (Also I kinda bored with so many media that twisted Alice in Wonderland into some kind of dark twisted horror story so I tried to balance the grimness of Limbus worldbuilding and the whimsical side of the original book)

Her thoughts in other sinner:

Yi Sang: She thinks his poetic speech pattern is fascinating. She thought that the's a dreamer and has whimsical side. She prefers to talk to him about some scientific stuff with him than Faust.

Faust: Doesn't really like her due to her arrogant side and how she sometimes withholds some of the information. Seems not the type of person that can't relax and have fun.

Don Quixote: Fun! Though can be too chaotic, but Don's presence are rather charming. It's fascinating for her how Don doesn't gave up with her dreams.

Ryoshu: Would rather swims in Great Lake rather than working together with her. Slowly realizing that Ryoshu is actually not that bad.

Meursault: Finally, a rational man in the bus.

Hong Lu: A classic rich boy (she has experiences with this type of person), although she wonders if he has other sides... An enigmatic person, if she should say.

Heathcliff: She thought that he was a violent man at first. Later found out that he can be friendly and cares about other.

Ishmael: Would rely to her for being a rational head in the group after Meursault, though she can be a little bit annoyed with Ishmael's sharp tounge.

Rodion: A bestie! She can talk to Rodion for hours! (also she will be the first one to feel betrayed when she finds out that Rodya only faking her friendliness after all this time)

Sinclair: Always ended up to be a big sister for him (not helping that she used to have younger sister in the past).

Outis: Loud. Bootlicker. At least Outis is effective and has good plan.

Gregor: She really likes to talk to him. Sees him as an "uncle-figure". Would hide behind him if things got too chummy.

[notaspectator]

idea: Omen copies people and tries to imitate people he likes. at first, it'd be hard to tell. but he's picked up on Viper's speech, and from time to time (...as funny as all the other agents find it) he'll repeat what brimstone has said to him. little speech things. but it becomes more obvious when it comes to behaviors. like, how if someone talks to him but does the "talking with hands" thing, he'll try to copy it. except he doesn't speak, because he doesn't understand the two things are connected. it becomes an uncanny imitation that reminds everyone else that Omen is not like them, and Omen cant understand what he's doing wrong. He's doing what he's seen others do, so why do they find it so strange when he does it? When people breath in a certain, noticable way, Omen pretends he's breathing the same way. It takes time for anyone to notice, but Omen does copy it and never understands why it unnerves the others. and say, when they're on a multiple day mission, he'll copy how people prepare to sleep. because he doesn't understand, and he just wants to pretend that he is like them, even if it means laying there for hours in silence because everyone sleeps, except for him, so that must mean that sleeping is a trait of living things. now, this also comes around a LOT with specific agents. like cypher. since Cypher y'know has a mask with eyes that pretend to blink, i like to imagine he also is very expressive with his body language to make up for the fact he has a mask. and Omen would copy the way Cypher likes to tilt his head, or the eccentric way Cypher waves his hands about. Cypher finds it interesting, and would often subtly do unique things such as a certain gesture or a walking to a certain pattern just so that he could see Omen imitate it later, either with him or elsewhere. The only time these little imitations seem *real* and *lifelike* is when Omen isn't trying to do them. Like how Omen will often imitate breathing just on his own, or the way he likes to keep a hand on the wall as he walks by because it is grounding and he likes to know where he is relative to the walls around him, or how he leans toward things he finds interesting so that he can focus better and hear them clearer. Omen doesn't realize that he is trying to put together a collage of everyone's unique traits in a desperate bid to make himself seem human- he doesn't realize that the little things HE does are what make him seem alive. that those little things are proof that he is not just going through the motions and making a fake personality from bits and pieces of everyone else, because he has his own thoughts, opinions, and little quirks that no one else shares. Omen really hasn't existed very long, has he? and yet, he's already killed countless people. from copies of friends, to copies of himself. how could that not fuck somebody up? he went through unimaginable pain, and cannot even hold himself together on a bad day (quite literally), and has looked himself dead in the eye and shot a replica of himself dead. When he has only known the VALORANT protocol- has only known Viper, who isn't known for her empathy- how could he have ever figured out what makes people human? where would he have managed to come up with the idea that his emotions are his own? where does that leave time to realize that he does not have to desperately copy people so that he can be SOMEONE? or really, so he can pretend that he is alive, in some compacity? and I love the idea that Cypher, who struggled with the same problems, sees Omen struggling and he helps him. Cypher is all too familiar with thinking he is not like the others, and has already grappled with the idea that something about him is wrong. and maybe he isn't quite over that idea, yet. maybe he's just pretending he is, but he'll TRY so that he can help Omen, because he just cant let Omen struggle with those thoughts alone. and Omen realizes, that even if he might not be human nor technically alive, that it is okay because Cypher loves him either way, and thats enough for Omen to want to keep going.

[kybercrystals94]

Teal Paint

Read here on Ao3!

Angstpril 2024 | Day 18 | Prompt 18: Left Behind

Rated: G | Word Count: 1526 | Summary: Memories left behind... | Character Focus: Hunter, Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Omega, Echo

*some slight spoilers at the very end for Season 3*

Tech finds a reasonably tame city to spend their brief period of downtime between missions. It took several months, but they’ve finally scraped enough credits together, and today is the day. The streets are crowded with evening traffic, the Batch walking close together to avoid being separated.

“Did you know,” Tech says, informatively, “that facial tattoos are among the most painful, depending on the location on the face?” 

“Thanks, Tech,” Hunter grumbles, “that’s really helpful.” 

“You’re not going to talk us out of it,” Crosshair adds resolutely.

Wrecker nods. “Yeah, we’re gonna do it no matter what you say, Tech!” 

Tech huffs. “On the contrary, I’m quite eager to observe the process. I just believe that being well informed is beneficial when making a life altering decision.” 

“Maker, Tech, getting a tattoo isn’t life altering,” Crosshair says. 

“It’s awesome!” Wrecker declares. “You should get one too, Tech.” 

“I prefer modifications that can be modified,” Tech retorts.

Crosshair leans close to Wrecker, puts his hand up to shield his mouth from Tech, and loudly whispers, “He’s too scared.” 

“That is not true.” 

“Aww, Techie’s scared,” Wrecker crows, throwing an arm around Tech. “I can hold your hand, be brave for the both of us.” 

Tech tries to extract himself from Wrecker’s grip. “I am not scared! I have stated my reasoning clearly and concisely. Fear has nothing to do with it.” 

Hunter rubs his hand across the left side of his face, a fist of apprehension balling up in the pit of his stomach. He isn’t having second thoughts, he’s almost positive that he’ll be happy with the results. He and Crosshair spent hours with a pad of flimsi sketching and scheming. Crosshair wanted something subtle, meaningful, a reflection of himself. Hunter, to his brothers’ surprise, wanted something bold. A statement. Memorable. Of the Batch, he most resembles, in appearance and speech, a reg. But he is no more a reg than any other member of his squad. He might not be able to easily change his facial structure or vocal pattern; however, inking half his face with the dark contour of a skull seems like a good start. 

“What do you think?” Crosshair asked, holding up the sketch he’d made of Hunter. 

Hunter grinned, taking the pad and admiring the simple lined likeness to himself, the skull motif shadowed deeply with graphite. He loved it. It was perfect. Exactly as he’d imagined it. “Looks good,” he told his brother.

Wrecker, at the last minute, decided that he also wants a tattoo, although his ideas are scattered and untethered to any sort of theme. Even as they approach the tattoo parlor, he is still undecided, claiming that it is going to be a surprise. 

“A tattoo is permanent,” Tech tells Wrecker again, having resigned himself to being tucked under Wrecker’s arm for the remainder of their trek. “You should at least have some sort of idea.” 

“I do,” Wrecker says, “My idea is that it will be the coolest tattoo in the entire galaxy.” 

“That is not an idea,” Tech sighs. 

At Tech’s direction, they turn off on a side street, the crowds petering off the further they walk. It doesn’t exactly feel like a bad part of town; however, it is less kept, the buildings showing their age and wear. Hunter is beginning to wonder if Tech got them lost when they turn another corner and a neon sign blinks the word “TATTOOS” at them, the flashing light practically searing into Hunter’s retinas. 

“They should get a brighter sign,” Crosshair snarks, “we almost missed it.” 

They step inside, and find the business deserted except for a human who stands up from a chair behind the counter. He is covered in colorful ink, his natural pigment completely lost under the tapestry of mismatched designs across every inch of his exposed skin. 

“Now that must’ve hurt,” Wrecker mutters to Tech, but he might as well have screamed it from the rooftops. 

Tech rolls his eyes. 

The man smiles, flashing white teeth. “Only hurts ‘til the pain goes away.”

“Naturally,” Tech agrees sardonically.

“I’m gonna guess you lot are here for some ink,” the man says. 

“They are, I am not,” Tech replies quickly. “I am here to observe.” 

“Not a fan of needles, huh?” the man asks. 

Tech opens his mouth to deny the accusation, but Wrecker gasps out, “Wait, needles?” 

Crosshair groans. “We went over this, Wrecker.”

“Yeah, well” Wrecker says, “it sounds different the way he says it.” 

“How?” 

Wrecker heaves his broad shoulders in a shrug. “I’ll just wait on my tattoo. Until I think of something good, ya know?”

Crosshair steps around Wrecker and jerks his head in Hunter’s direction. “He and I are getting tattoos. These are what we want.” He pulls two pieces of flimsi from his pocket with their chosen designs, pushing them across the counter. 

The man takes them, looking over the details. “Straightforward and to the point. I like that. C’mon around and we’ll get started.”

Hunter takes a deep breath. 

He’s not turning back now. 

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Hunter and Crosshair decide to add to their armor to coordinate with their new tattoos. The next time they’re on Kamino, they find their leftover paint and set to work, Tech and Wrecker joining them. Inspired by Hunter’s new half skull tattoo, they decide to incorporate the symbol into all of their armor in some way. 

“So help me, Wrecker, if you tip over another can of paint…” Crosshair mutters, snatching up the at-risk bucket from Wrecker’s proximity. 

Wrecker is sprawled out on their barrack’s floor, taking up far more than his fair share of space. His paint brush flicks up, sending a spray of heavy duty white across the room. 

“You’re cleaning that up,” Tech says from his place at the table.

“No one will notice,” Wrecker assures them. “Maybe they’ll look like clean spots!”

Hunter sighs. “That’s not a good thing, Wreck.” 

Wrecker ignores the comment, instead dropping his paintbrush onto the tray Tech ordered him to use and holding up his helmet. “What do you think? It’s a skull.” 

“Not a human skull,” Tech points out. 

Wrecker shakes his head. “Human skulls are boring.” 

“There’s supposed to be red on your helmet somewhere,” Crosshair gripes. 

Wrecker reaches over and plucks Crosshair’s fine tipped paint brush out of his hand, the bristles still dripping red paint. Crosshair sputters a curse as Wrecker happily begins painting with the stolen utensil. 

“Hunter!” Crosshair cries, “Tell Wrecker to give it back.” 

 Hunter doesn’t even look up from his work. “Let’s share our toys like big kids,” he coos, earning a chuckle from Tech. 

“I’m gonna give it back in a second,” Wrecker says. “Almost done.” 

Crosshair growls something rude in Huttese. 

“There!” Wrecker says, tossing the brush back at Crosshair, the sniper catching it from the wrong end, paint staining the palm of his glove. Wrecker turns his helmet again to the room. “See? It’s perfect.” 

The number 99 is brandished across the forehead of his helmet in dripping red. 

“Subtle as usual, Wrecker,” Tech says. 

Wrecker grins. “Thanks!” 

Hunter sits back and admires his own helmet’s new design, carefully imitating his inked face. It’s exactly how he imagined it. 

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“I like this color,” Omega says, pointing at a swatch of teal paint. “Oh, and this orange is nice.” 

Tech glances at Hunter, clearly questioning the decision to let Omega choose their new armor colors. Hunter shrugs. At least it will look…different. Which is exactly what they want. 

“What about this one?” Wrecker asks, pointing at the yellow swatch.

“Yes! I like that one too!” Omega cries. 

They purchase the three cans of paint and some brushes before heading back to the Marauder. Omega is beside herself with excitement. “Do you think the paint will work on my helmet?” she asks. 

“Sure, kid, ‘course it will,” Wrecker says cheerfully. 

“I’m gonna use orange on mine, then,” Omega says. 

That evening, spread out under the Marauder’s wing, the Batch set about repainting their armor. Wrecker can’t bear the thought of covering up the skull on his helmet, so he settles for removing the bright 99 from it instead, sanding it down and repainting the area white. With Omega’s help, he uses orange and yellow to accent the rest of his armor pieces. 

Tech and Echo decide to monopolize the orange paint, leaving very little to Hunter. With a sigh, he picks up the teal paint, and pries it open. Omega beams at him. “I think that will be a very nice color on you,” she tells him sincerely, and suddenly, the color doesn’t seem so bad. 

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“All the armor’s been stripped. But we’re still not gonna blend in,” Echo says, tossing Hunter his helmet. 

The colors of his past lives have been removed with finality. He knows it is necessary; however, he can’t help but feel the pang of loss as he stares at the familiar piece of himself he’s had for so long, devoid of the visible memories lingering like ghosts behind him. 

Maybe they’ll paint their armor again, when all of this is over. 

If they all make it back. 

END

@the-little-moment and @just-here-with-my-thoughts 🥳 I can't believe we've only got 4 more stories/chapters each to go!

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[lamemaster]

Ways to Coax Your Beloved

Pairing: Glorfindel x Reader

Genre: Romance, fluff (i swear) , sprinkle of angst

Summary: What began as a minor disagreement now feels like an insurmountable chasm between you two. Never before had an argument lasted so long.

AN: written directly on Tumblr interface this is my mania. Enjoy!

"I've brought us some snacks," you carefully balance the tray on the balcony railing. "Cakes, tea, cookies, crackers, cream rolls – I've got everything." He remains facing away from you, his back tense and unyielding to your words.

"Glorfindel," you take a hesitant step closer, your hand hovering in the air. But before you can say more, he disappears once again. This has been the pattern for a week, the longest and most trying week of your life.

What began as a minor disagreement now feels like an insurmountable chasm between you two. Never before had an argument lasted so long. Your beloved simply did not care to hold on to grudges for long.

Sighing, you lifted the tray, contemplating an excuse that wouldn't draw the pitying gazes of the kitchen staff.

"How do you coax a sulking elf?" Erestor looks up from his book. You had never really conversed much with him before this. There was never a reason to. "Specifically a thousands of years old being whose been born twice and is quite a legend."

Much to your surprise, Erestor does not find your humor hilarious. Leave for slight amusement in his eyes there is little appreciation for your jest.

"I would rather you not discuss this with me," the stern looking elf replies as he simply turns back to his tomes. Yikes! Awkwardly swinging your arms you try to plan for a slightly less awkward exit. "Ah yes," picking up the closest book you plan for your emergency exit from the unforgiving company, "I would like to get this book."

With another scathing look directed your way, Erestor meticulously wrapped your borrowed book in a fancy-looking cloth. "Keep it away from any water, heat, or dirt. Any damage is unacceptable," he instructed curtly.

You solemnly nodded, understanding the gravity of his instructions. "Sounds good," you responded with a casual tone, but Erestor's raised eyebrow reminded you that casualness wasn't his forte.

As you turned to leave, you almost collided with the bookshelf, which seemed to have crept up on you. "Oof," you muttered, swaying your way out of the room.

Then, Erestor's voice halted your steps. "Try Asfaloth," he suggested.

With a wide grin, you turned around and threw a jolly salute to Erestor, who had already returned to his books as if nothing had changed.

Armed with Erestor's invaluable intel, you ventured to the stables. Before arriving there, you made sure to thoroughly search your quarters, Glorfindel's rooms, and other frequently visited areas of the dwelling. Finally, you descended to the stables, where your beloved's horse awaited.

"Asfaloth, my boy, how I've missed you!" Your heartfelt enthusiasm was met with an equally excited neigh from the elegant white stallion. Despite towering over you, Asfaloth possessed a temperament that invited nurturing from anyone.

Performing a playful dance with light stomps to celebrate your arrival was entirely unnecessary but undeniably enjoyable. Or perhaps it was the not-so-well-concealed carrots you held in your hands that fueled your jubilant display. "Have you seen him?" you posed a question to the horse, though you knew full well that, despite elven claims, horses did not possess the gift of speech.

Approaching the gentle giant that was Asfaloth, you deftly ensured that he didn't gobble the carrots too quickly. "Patience," you murmured, adjusting the treats to prevent any mishaps. Abandoning the idea of petting the eager horse, you directed all your focus toward preventing a choking incident. You were acutely aware that Glorfindel would never forgive you if Asfaloth were to asphyxiate on your offerings.

"Where is he, Asfaloth?" Your fingers continued to caress the munching horse as you briefly entertained the idea that, just maybe, the elves were right, and Asfaloth understood you.

No fancy braiding or delicate floral decorations adorned his mane this time. "Why is he avoiding you? What have you done?" you pondered aloud, earning a pitiful whine from your equine companion. "I know, incredibly rude, I must say," you commented, deciding against attempting to braid Asfaloth's mane for the sake of both the world's sanity and your own. Instead, you settled on a comfortable pile of hay, hoping you weren't sitting on Asfaloth's dinner from the previous night.

"I brought him flowers, snacks, I even endured the drudgery of laundry, and I despise laundry. I got him books, a random flute, baked him a cake, and even learned a new card trick. But not a single reaction!" You confided in Asfaloth, desperately hoping for some form of understanding and equally enthusiastic compassion. To your relief, Asfaloth seemed to offer a sympathetic snort at just the right moment.

"You wouldn't believe it, but I even dared to venture into Erestor's little cave for intel. I'm at my wit's end, my friend," you sighed, realizing that the hay pile was indeed quite comfortable.

"I mean, I could try going to the nearest town for something, but I doubt I'd find anything better than these snobbish elves. Besides, those townsfolk charge outrageous prices," you continued, and Asfaloth leaned in, sniffing your satchel in hopes of more treats. Allowing the horse to continue his investigation, you didn't stop him. "I might dip into some of those savings. Perhaps Glorfindel would appreciate some rustic tools, eh?" Tired of Asfaloth's curiosity, you playfully tossed your empty satchel into the corner, which, for some inexplicable reason, Asfaloth chased like an adorable hound.

Tucked away in Asfaloth's cozy abode, you couldn't recall when your consciousness had faded into that blissful six-hour nap – the kind you cherished above all others. In the realm of bizarre dreams, you found yourself pinned to a pile of hay, unable to relinquish the unconventional comfort. Maybe Erestor had been onto something when he recommended Asfaloth.

However, your tranquil slumber was abruptly shattered as a metaphorical tsunami wreaked havoc on your sleeping form. Gasping, you struggled to make sense of the blurry world that seemed to whirl too rapidly for your groggy vision to follow.

"Y/n, oh Eru, you're awake!" A voice echoed through your sleep-addled and hazy thoughts.

Grasping the strong arms that held you close, you attempted to piece together the disaster that had overtaken you. "Wha-" your words faltered as you laid eyes on the tearful and sniffling elf standing before you. It was your first time witnessing such an emotional display, and you couldn't quite believe that elves were capable of producing snot.

Shaking off your mental fog, you slowly realized the peculiar predicament you were in. You were seated on a pile of hay, within the stable, beneath Asfaloth's unflinching gaze, and enfolded tightly in the embrace of the Balrog-slayer himself.

"I-I thought you left. You left like you said," Glorfindel stammered, your hands gently cupped your hiccupping beloved's face as his words tumbled out faster than you could process. "I couldn't find you… I had to… I rushed here, and then, you were… your eyes closed like that." Using your sleeves, you wiped away the relentless tears (and yes, even the snot) that streamed down his face as you sought a way to soothe Glorfindel's overwhelming emotions.

You couldn't help but internally curse yourself for your rambling that had led to this emotional upheaval. Days ago, beneath the relentless blanket of snow and impenetrable clouds, your thoughts had wandered without restraint.

"It happens, Glorfindel," you offered in an attempt to console him, "weariness of the world is unavoidable, even more so for Men. A slight change in weather can trigger it. After all, we are bound to some place beyond this." Your words seemed to offer little solace, evident from your beloved's reddening face.

"It is only natural to ponder death or the end. We Men are born with this burden, so it's not unnatural for such thoughts to sneak in. We call it 'existentialism.' But those ramblings mean nothing right now. I would not leave you, vanish into thin air, or transform into an insect just because the snow wouldn't relent." Your words carried a hint of playfulness, but there was undeniable truth in them. You would depart one day, for a fate separate from his. Before that day came, you both would endure the passage of time, a force that dared not mar the Balrog-slayer.

You harbored thoughts about evading him before he witnessed such a sight, but you knew you had some time left. A few years before you would spend eons waiting for another reunion.

But you chose not to speak of those deeper truths.

"But," you interjected, and Glorfindel perked up at the unexpected word. "I would tell everyone about this if you don't stop being an absolute grump." Just like that, the tension surrounding you both dissipated. "Imagine, 'Balrog Slayer, The Balrog Slayer,' in the stables – hmph!" Your words were cut off as Glorfindel playfully covered your face with his hand.

Even with reddened eyes and a rosy nose, your beloved looked every bit his old self. All traces of your angst and his sorrow dissipated into the slightly stinky breath of Asfaloth.