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luveline · 3 months ago

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hiya there! can I request remus having an autistic gf and her finally being comfortable stimming and unmasking around him? 🙏🏻 thank you

“I love that movie, I love Scooby-Doo.”

Remus hums. “I don’t mind it.”

“With the escape ball and– and when Scooby draws the bunny?” You grin. “It always makes me laugh.”

“I like the frisbee flashback.”

“That’s the first one.”

“Is it?” Remus takes a sip of his coffee, a white chocolate mocha, barely any coffee at all.

“I don’t know.” You laugh. Remus likes how it tumbles from you, unabashed, your hands drifting towards your chest. You’ve slumped with time into the cushions of the coffee shop’s patchwork sofa, a thigh of space between you and Remus filled with your purse, his wallet, and his longing.

You start to squeeze your hand into a fist. You’re still smiling. Remus has to compute the event quickly, lest he ask if you’re okay and make a fool of himself. You’re fine, just excited to be having a laugh, and this is what happens. He resists the urge to clench his own fist as yours rolls in and out of itself like a flower, blooming and un-blooming, taking in the sun, heat of your chest, and closing again. You squeeze again and Remus remembers it’s his turn to talk.

“Did you watch the cartoons?” he asks.

“I did! Yes! The cartoon movies were the best.”

Remus is sure you’d let him kiss you if he asked politely enough, but you’re so busy trying to learn everything about one another that there hasn’t been time. Genuinely. He’s ditching a lecture to be here now, wondering if he can persuade you into calling in sick from work tonight just ‘cos he wants to see you that little bit longer.

“If you skip work, we can watch the Cyber Chase. I have the DVD.”

Your hand squeezes, and when you let it go, you force your fingers straight. Then, gentle, you begin tapping the base of your neck like a feigned pulse. “Really, you do?”

“Buy you a takeaway and everything.”

The noise you make in response is almost silent. Lips pressed together, eyes alight, it’s a happy hum. He’s so happy he caused it that he reaches over the mess on the sofa to hold your resting wrist.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. But if you’re buying food then I’m buying the popcorn before we go. There’s a CostCutters by your flat, right?”

He follows down your wrist to your hand. It’s restless, but not moving into tight balls like the other one. “Yeah. Or we can go to a proper shop and get some kernels, I have a pan with a lid and real butter, we can make it ourselves. I’ll make caramel, too, if you want.”

Remus doesn’t think it’s the popcorn that’s exciting you —though popcorn can be quite interesting on an otherwise mundane Monday night— but instead assumes it to be the same thing that has his heart skipping beats, the diminishing gap between you. The inch of your knee pressing into his.

“It’s the second film, with the frisbee,” you say suddenly. “You’re right, it’s when they have to go to the original clubhouse.”

You squeeze your hand into a fist again, worrying the neck of your t-shirt. Remus rubs the back of your hand with his thumb, weighing the idea of asking you if you’re alright against how that might kill the mood. Eventually, he brings his own hand to his neck and squeezes it shut. “You okay?” he asks softly, just so you know he doesn’t mind.

Your hand relaxes. Voice similarly soft, eyes a sugary shade he has yet to have seen before, “I’m just happy,” you say. “Being with you.”

He plays with your fingers, shyness half-feigned and half embarrassingly real. “I like it, too. It’s exactly why you should come over.”

“I thought I should tell you that, in case I take back my hand or something and it gives you a different impression. I’m just happier when I get to choose what’s happening sometimes.” You smile, and Remus knows he’s trusted. “But I guess you figured that out.”

He strokes your ring finger, his eyes squinting gently as he returns your smile.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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andypantsx3 · 9 months ago

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DEVIL IN THE DARK : TODOROKI TOUYA x READER

SUMMARY: There is no price you will not pay for revenge—and a demon comes to collect. NOTES: First Prince of Hell Touya, gender neutral Reader, revenge, blood, slight body horror, SFW, 1.9k. I did not actually plan a proper Halloween fic this year so here you go!

It's cold on the crossroads, an icy wind whipping along the pavement, rustling in the trees. It sounds like hundreds of whispers in the dark, though you know the stretch of road around you is empty for miles.

That's the only way to summon the demon you're looking for—the only way they say he will answer. He is too clever to appear where he may be at a disadvantage.

Against one lone human, demon hunter though you may be, he stands every chance. Against you in particular, he fares even better. You are not the strongest in the League, were never the best in your class at the academy. You were more a strategist than a warrior, better with a pen than your regulation silver knife.

Your only certain way out is if the demon you're looking for chooses not to appear—or if his interest is adequately piqued by the deal you're offering. You do not know enough to be certain his attention will be assured.

Despite yourself, you take a breath and scratch his sigil in the dirt at the side of the road. It had taken you years to find, hidden by the Council after losing too many hunters eager to prove themselves against this specific demon.

But you are out for a very particular revenge. You would have searched your whole life if that is what it would have taken.

Nothing happens at first, as the final stroke of his sigil settles into the dirt. You wonder if he's chosen not to come.

But then, slowly, the wind dies down. The rustle of the trees grows softer, then still. The scant slivers of moonlight pool strangely in the road, like liquid silver dripping along the grooves of pavement. The wind trails off into a breeze, then the softest, sweetest hint of feeling, like the touch of a breath at your shoulder.

—A breath at your shoulder.

You jump, reeling sideways at the exhale across your skin. You barely choke down a scream when you catch sight of the man waiting behind you.

He's taller than you expected, long and lean. His looks are also surprisingly human, save for the twisting horns curling out of the inky black of his hair, and the patchwork of purpling burns over his skin, left by a magic you don't even want to contemplate.

He's shockingly handsome, though, under the burns, his features perfect, careful, delicate—almost angelic. His mouth is a soft, sensuous curl, at odds with the hard, exacting blue of his gaze. He is watching you like a cat tracking a bug skittering across the floor, and every particle in your body screams with the desire to flee.

You plant your feet firmly in the dirt instead, trying to steel your nerves. But the First Prince of Hell's mouth lifts, a derisive twist of amusement.

"Your kind might be fooled," he says, his voice a low drawl. "But I can hear your heartbeat, human."

As if on cue, you can feel your heartbeat stutter and skip. But still you still your shaking fingers against your thigh. This is what you have worked for; you have come with a plan.

"Prince Touya," you acknowledge him, willing yourself to sound calm. "I am here to make a deal."

A sardonic eyebrow lifts as his eyes flick meaningfully to the knife at your hip, then back up to your face. "A hunter looking to bargain with a demon?"

You force yourself to look into the burning cerulean of his eyes, twin points of eerie blue in the dim. "Yes."

Touya does not look even mildly interested. "Let me guess, you want me to hold still while you stab."

You certainly do, and Touya smirks when your expression gives you away. But there is one thing you want more than to prove your worth upon a demon prince. One thing you are certain you can only get from him.

"I want you to lure your father out," you grit your teeth, spitting the words out quickly before you lose your nerve.

Prince Touya visibly pauses, expression icing over. The shadows around you seem to deepen, and a cloud draws across the moon, casting you into an even deeper dark. A shiver crawls down your spine.

"My father," he spits out, his tone blacker than the night.

You force yourself to nod. All the legends say there is no love lost between the First Prince and the King of Hell, detailing their many clashes across the eons, and the destruction that followed in their wake. You only hope that they have not found it within themselves to make amends in the five hundred or so years since the most recent accounts were written.

"And what would a little nothing demon hunter do with the King of Hell?" Prince Touya demands, taking a step closer. He moves sinuously, like a curl of mist. "Your blade bears not even a drop of demon's blood—I can smell it."

It is true, you have never killed a demon. "It would not be me. I need you to lure him into the League's trap. And there will be others, many hunters equal to the task."

Prince Touya studies you for a long moment, those eyes glimmering in the dark. "The League's gotten more underhanded since I encountered you last. And what would I get out of this deal?"

"The throne of Hell," you say. "The death of your enemy."

Touya steps closer, near enough that you can feel the heat of him, smell the magic of Hell on him. He smells heady and dark, rich like cinnamon and smoke. His proximity makes your blood race.

"And this trap that's going spring closed will exclude me, will it?" he asks. There's a little rasp on the edge of his voice, you notice.

It wouldn't, and you had hoped the prince would not think to ask it. But he has not survived millennia being stupid.

Your non-answer is enough for him, and he snorts as he walks a wide circle around you. In the silence of the night you can clearly hear the crunch of his boots in the dirt. You stand stock-still and pretend you are not unnerved by his attention, by the way he paces with the slow, unhurried gait of a predator.

"This trap of yours," he says finally, "Who's devised it?"

You feel him pass behind your back. "I did."

"You who have never killed a demon," he says drily.

You try to quell your temper, knowing you would not survive it were you to raise his. "Not directly."

Prince Touya's grin is a wicked thing as he stops in front of you, catching your eye. It is a touch too wide, a touch too pleased. His teeth are too white, canines too sharp.

"I thought hunters were supposed to be honorable," he says, tone gloating.

Many things were supposed to be that weren't. Your family was supposed to be alive, for one. But the King of Hell had seen to that, and now nothing was as it should have been.

"I thought demons were supposed to crave deals," you reply. A non answer.

Touya circles behind you again, passing close enough that your skin prickles.

"I want something else," he says finally, clearly enjoying the way it makes you stiffen. "The death of my father is something I can do myself. I'll need more if I'm to change my mind."

"What else do you want?" you ask.

Prince Touya stops in front of you again, too close for comfort. He is warm, too warm. His handsome face twists in another grin.

"A blood oath," he says, leaning down to catch your gaze.

A streak of fear tears down your gut. A blood oath would bind you to him, something he could easily leverage to escape what you had planned. It would ensure you could never raise a hand against him, would be compelled to obey him were he to come calling.

And demons always, always came calling.

Good sense told you to refuse, but of course good sense had told you never to come here in the first place. The First Prince's demise was a hoped-for bonus, but the King of Hell was who you were really after. You had all but already made up your mind.

In the end, there is only one choice to be made.

"Fine," you accept, letting a slow breath out. Your hand falls to your belt for your silver knife, unstrapping it and drawing it across your palm before you can talk yourself out of it.

Touya's eyes track the well of blood, glinting, a twinge of delight passing across his beautiful features. He raises a black claw and pricks his own palm open, pressing his hand to yours, fingers closing over you.

You nearly startle out of your skin at the feeling of those long fingers on your skin, the careful rasp of his claws over your wrist. His hold on you helps steady you when you realize his blood is not pooling the same way as yours—it’s moving, sliding as if of its own volition into the cut on your palm, seeping inside you as your own continues to pour out.

You have to close your eyes to keep from feeling sick.

There's a sweep of heat through your veins as he settles deeper into your bloodstream, warming you like a shot of whiskey. It settles into something almost pleasant, then disappears, as if growing dormant within you. And then it’s over.

And then it’s done.

Your eyes blink back open when you feel Touya’s hand shift yours in his grip, and then he raises your hand to his mouth, licking across your palm. It’s another shock of warmth, his mouth surprisingly soft, gentle against your injury. His long eyelashes flutter shut as he tastes you, and it's all you can do to hold still again, not to curl away in disgust or embarrassment—or anything else.

Touya's eyes glow brighter when he raises them to your face again, and a pleased smile curls his mouth.

"Just as sweet as you look," he purrs, and you prickle. But disturbingly, he genuinely seems to mean it, tongue passing across his bottom lip to sweep up more of the taste of you.

Something unsettled churns in your gut.

You wonder if you haven’t gotten yourself into something deeper than you’d understood.

But Touya is already moving, pressing a wry kiss to your palm in a horrible mockery of intimacy. Then he steps away, leaving you feeling strangely cold.

"A pleasure doing business with you, little hunter," he tells you, as a scant breeze begins to pick up at your feet again. A few leaves skitter across the pavement, almost deafening against the prior silence.

The first glimmer of moonlight almost blinds you as the clouds move again, the wind starting back up. The dim pools and gathers around Prince Touya as he melds back into the dark, stepping back as if into a patch of shadow.

"I'll be seeing you very soon," he promises, his voice growing soft and low.

You don’t doubt it, and another shiver creeps down your spine. But it’s too late to go back now, and Touya knows it too.

The last thing you see before he disappears is that white smile in the dark—before you're left alone with the weight of the decision you've just made. And the cost of your revenge.

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #touya x reader #todoroki toya x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #bnha x reader

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evandorkin · 1 month ago

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Hii! I was just wondering, since you’ve been drawing and publishing comic books for such a long time, how do you feel about Ai art and ai “artists”?

(Big fan btw!)

AI art is bullshit being shoved on everyone like the Apple U2 album. It's not art, it's soulless patchwork made up of actual art done by artists. No one using AI to make art is an artist, they're fooling themselves. I don't follow or deal with anyone who does AI "art", it's anti-art, it's theft and it wastes huge amounts of natural resources to power the bullshit machines behind it. A lot of tech bros and venture capitalists are forcing this shit down everyone's throats because they've invested so heavily in it and they have no regard actual artists making actual art or human workers doing their jobs. They want to automate and flatten everything to sell their shitty product, get rid of jobs and continue to fill their bank accounts. Avoid AI, it's a fucking scam like NFTs and crypto. A! art is bullshit.

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evanslittlecorner · 2 years ago

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(Also uh I got excited and made that perhaps a little vague. So what are your thoughts on yandere Elliott? Ik there's at least one yan mod for him - have you played it, and if so does your opinion on how he'd act differ? Either way, YANDERE ELLIOTT)

KICKS DOWN DOOR. ELLIOT GIVE ME YOUR TAKE ON ELLIOT please :3 - patchwork-fool

Ok, there's quite a bit I can say about Elliott but here's the TL;DR. This man either looks like he hopped off of a romance novel cover, or like a toddler who just discovered what patterns are. @upsidedownpizzabite made a really cute piece of him wearing a lobster shirt and I've never seen anything more correct in my life

As for the long answer, first of all, no, I'm a vanilla girly so I've never played it, though I have watched it be played and I really like it. He absolutely send you letters through the guise of a secret admirer even though the town is so small you can track it back to him. That bit were if you're dating another villager and he sends you a wilted bouquet in the mail? Jaw dropping, I love that shit so much so it's staying with my Elliott

I'd say the main thing that differs is that my Elliott is a total girlfail. Do not leave this man alone in the kitchen, he will create something radioactive. Rich kid energy, he does not know what the fuck he's doing most of the time but goes in with such bravado you assume he's been doing whatever it is for years

His yandere tendencies start as soon as you meet him, he's convinced it's love at first sight and that he must court you before anyone else in the valley can ruin you. Is fine with you hanging out with people like Penny or Harvey but if he catches you with Shane, Emily or Alex he whisks you away, afraid they'll "taint your purity" Of course this man has a purity kink, what did you expect? Now he's also super into a rough and tumble farmer stealing his purity, he'll "fight back" of course but he's just no match for your big strong farmer build

This is all I can think of for now I'm afraid but if you have anything specific about him in mind that I didn't touch on please let me know!

#patchwork-fool #whispers of an angry god #stardew valley #sdv elliott

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ssecond-hand-faith · 1 year ago

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uuuuuuuuuuu...... Well, you did get me a lot of squeaky toys, so I shall recover..... eventually QAQ

He can ride around on my head and be tall, I promise I won't try to chomp him anymore..... (cut to me jumping around biting actual bugs out of the air to satiate my need for Small Moving Thing)

He’s gonna take nap in your fur, gonna get stuck and lost in there 😔

#asks #patchwork-fool #OC: Casper #he’s actually gonna get throw off into oblivion when you jump around to bite the bugs #not art

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angeltism · 1 year ago

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agh I hate the feeling that I messed up a relationship

#➳ the fool speaks #still a lil frazzled #i cant really bring myself to feel many emotions bc The Whole Day And Past Few Days I've been feeling this way #but ugh . like . i wish i was better at communicating . i wish I wasn't so jealous ! but oh well #hey google this is so sad play patchwork staccato or something

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amazingabellini · 1 year ago

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Every Single Thing 621 is Called on Rubicon

Dog Augmented Human C4-621 You 621 Intruder Illegal Enemy AC Merc Corp AC Registration number Rb23 Raven Callsign: Raven Mercenary Corporate Merc Corporate Dog Interloper Military Force Hostile AC Shameless Coral scavenger Independent Mercenary Hunter Sharp A local An Independent A merc who only kills for credits A real merc G13 G13 Raven Kiddo Freelancer Maggot Fake Redgun Tagalong Sewing club member Not a total amateur Not a pro Corporate Vulture Mere pawn Scavenger Hound of Walter Competition Good for nothing Good for something Wretched vulture Unidentified AC Damn Hyena Rotten Money-grubber Corporate scum Enemy backup One of the infamous Walter's hounds Wallclimber War buddies Comrade Buddy Intruder Doser Shameless Corporate Dog Greedy Mercenary Greedy hound Daring A symbol of resolve Only Other Person That Can Keep Up With Me You Again Old Augmentation Recalcitrant Mutt Vermin Pest The Pest of Rubicon Code 15 Raven the Wallclimber Code 31C Solo Independent Mercenary Pitiful Dog Gen 4 Fine hound Another dead dog Older type of Augmented Human Tourist No ordinary tourist Smart Cookie No slouch A cut above the rest Not afraid of anything Belongs in a museum Freak My favorite little Tourist A certain someone New friend The Freelancer from the dam raid Target Walter's Hound Solo AC Independent Merc Trespasser to Rubicon Walking Advertisement Mascot AC of Unknown Affiliation Suspected Corporate Hire Single AC Code 5, Unknown AC Independent Mercenary Assembly That AC Hostile AC Priority Subject for Termination One helluva merc Hired Operative Intruding AC Grunt Famous Mercenary Fine Soldier One Loose End Corpse Quick on the uptake Not like those savages Cur Scoundrel Oathbreaker Just an AC Patchwork AC Better than the other ACs Like a bird in flight Killer Menace to Rubicon Target for Termination Unknown Intruder Intrusion Attempt Menace Volunteer The Objective Just a Gen 4 Strong Worthy of your name False Alarm Impostor Impressive Pilot Wormkiller Threat to Planetary Closure 20 Iguazus A Real Redgun Not so Special Too Dangerous to Keep Around Not Afraid to Die The Only G13 Who's Managed To Live This Long

One of Carla's

A new friend from afar Strong A Threat Dangerous Another Threat to Rubicon Veteran The Mercenary Who Took Your Name Rat Fool The Big One Corporate pawn Rather Extraordinary Gen 4 Augmentation High Level Threat Strong Candidate One of Allmind's The One Rusty was talking about Head in the Clouds Old-Gen Alive Handler's Hound Old Colleague Subject Beast of burden Guest of Honor The Key Smartass Freelancer Wonderful People Demon Miserable Relic Trigger for the Change to come Dog without a shred of intelligence Not worthy of humanity Stray Dog Obstacle Faithful Hound Biggest Threat Legacy Augmentation The Greatest Obstacle The Liberator of Rubicon The only one The Spark of War The Fires that Haunt Rubicon The Monster who Burned the Stars One With Allmind Aberrations to The Plan Trigger for Coral Release Irregular The Old-Gen Who Could Do It All

The Freelancer Who Had It All

#ac6 #ac6 spoilers #c4 621 #augmented human c4 621 #armored core 6 #armored core #why did i do this #armored core vi #acvi #armored core fires of rubicon #raven #registration number rb23 #g13 #g13 raven

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charles-smith-pillow-princess · 2 months ago

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"My eyes are up here, Arthur."

Laundry day at camp was always a hassle. Most everyone pitched in, helping with hauling the water and chopping wood and carrying the baskets of damp cotton and wool to the line to be pinned and dried, all under the strict direction of Miss Grinshaw.

It was a warm spring day at Horseshoe Overlook, and the strong sunshine mixed with the warm breeze promised that even the heavy woolens would be dry by nightfall.

Usually Arthur didn’t mind laundry day, much. He was no stranger to chores, and he found the chatter and hussle of his patchwork family working in tandem relaxing, for all that it was mixed with the usual sniping and spats.

Today, though, Arthur thought he may just be ready to kill Karen Jones.

Not for her and Sean’s cat-in-heat caterwauling keeping him up until the small hours of the night, or even her occasional drunken tirade.

No, Arthur thought, fuming as he tripped over an upturned root, nearly losing a pile of clean, wet clothes to the dirt for the fourth time that day. Not for nothin’ so harmless as that.

Charles Smith, tall and strong and cursedly, delightfully, distractingly shirtless, lunged forward to steady Arthur by the shoulder, his bucket of water sloshing against the bronze, bare skin of his ridiculously pretty chest.

Gonna have ta shoot her, Arthur thought, resigned, eyes drawn to a bead of water that made its way down the broad muscles of Charles’ pecs. The damn thing glistened, mocking Arthur’s dry mouth and wandering eyes and his fool heart.

Karen had sloshed coffee down Charles’ back earlier that morning. It being laundry day, the other man had casually whipped off his shirt—it’d been his last clean one—and thrown it onto the pile.

Which meant Arthur had been subjected—tormented—by the sight of the most beautiful man he’d ever met hauling stacks of wood and heavy buckets of water easily around the camp ground.

Shirtless. Bare chested.

Tits out, modestly preserved only by the ever-shifting mass of his shiny raven hair, which served more to taunt and tease than to actually cover the proud peak of his brown nipples with any sort of modesty.

Arthur’s mouth hadn’t been this dry since they left New Austin, and he hadn’t stumbled this much since he and Lenny made fools of themselves during a drunken spree in Valentine.

“You okay there, Arthur?” Charles asked, low and concerned. His pecs moved as he breathed, droplets caught in his sparse chest hair glittering in the sunlight.

“M’fine,” Arthur mumbled, transfixed, as that bead of water trickled down the generous curve of Charles’s breast, rolling its shining trail down his sternum. He felt his cheeks warm as the evil thing slowed to a tortuous crawl, creeping in trembling centimeters over the soft round of Charles’ belly.

Drawn and quartered, Arthur decided, chewing his lip absently as he adjusted the load of laundry in his arms. He loved Karen like a sister, but there was simply nothing else for it.

“Uh, Arthur?”

Arthur hummed, breath catching in his chest as the bead of water was caught, glimmering like a gem, in the short curling hairs of Charles’ treasure trail.

Charles’ warm, big palm tightened on Arthur’s shoulder, jostling him. “Arthur!”

Arthur startled, nearly dropping the laundry as he blinked away, dragging his gaze from Charles’ navel to the slightly less indecent target of those perfect tits. “What?”

Charles sighed, his breath stirring Arthur’s bangs. It occurred to Arthur that they’d been standing close an awfully long while, and that the camp had gone awfully quiet.

Charles tugged Arthur’s shoulder again. "My eyes are up here, Arthur."

Mortified, Arthur stepped back, snapping his attention to the other pair of beautiful brown eyes before him. The ones on Charles’ face, rather than his chest.

“Sorry,” Arthur said, ears burning. “Must’ve got lost there for a second.”

Charles smiled, clearly amused. It was a good look on him, raising that often furrowed brow, showing off the dimples (dimples! Arthur despaired. God-damned dimples!) of his cheeks.

Arthur strongly refused to think about just what he’d be willing to do see it again.

“Lost, huh?” Charles teased, releasing Arthur’s shoulder with a pat. “You need some water?”

Arthur cleared his throat, shifting his pile. Furiously fought the urge to ask if he could lick his drink off the smooth planes of Charles’ chest.

“All good,” he managed, only a little hoarse. “Sorry to bother ya.”

Charles shook his head, pretty canines flashing as that soft smile stretched into a grin. “Not at all,” he said, picking his water bucket back up. “Take care, now.”

Arthur nodded, leaving a careful buffer between himself and Charles as he stepped off towards the laundry line, fully intent on using one of the thin cotton ropes to hang himself.

“Oh, and Arthur?” Warm fingers brushed Arthur’s forearm as he passed. Arthur froze, deerlike, turning his head to regard the other man from under the brim of his hat.

Charles’ eyes crinkled above the blinding smile.

“Let me know if you need to break out that sketchbook of yours later,” he teased. “Might last you longer.”

With that, Charles went back to work, hauling the heavy buckets, casual as anything, completely oblivious to Arthur’s thundering heart.

I’ll just tie her to the train tracks, Arthur decided, turning to stomp over to where Karen Jones waited by the laundry line, bent double in fits of laughter alongside Tilly.

With luck, the train would hit him, too.

#stupid sexy Charles smith #Charles smith #Karen jones #Arthur Morgan #Charthur #RDR2 #red dead redemption 2 #writing zoomies

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darkpetal16 · 11 months ago

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Quick question for all the boys: what nickname would they give to their partner?

ALL?? OK BABE I GOT YOU. but like I can't do an "all" post again there's just too many now lol.

Underfell!Sans (Red): Babe (all), sweetheart (for the shy or introverted babes), doll/dollface (for the feisty babes)

Underfell!Papyrus (Edge): Love (but very sparingly, he’s not fond of nicknames):

Underfell!Wingding (Fell): My dear / My love / My other half / My heart (all emphasis on the my)

Underfell!Asriel (Prince): doesn’t use nicknames unless explicitly asked to. Might refer to you as partner / mate / spouse however.

Underfell!Grillby (Fellby): Sweet girl/boy/pup & Little firecracker.

Underswap!Sans (Blue): Not fond of nicknames but will occasionally call you his puzzle piece. If you ask him to call you something specific, he will.

Underswap!Papyrus (Stretch): Honey, honey bear, honey pie, spicy honey, and if he wants to be ornery / annoy others in public. . .honey bunny wunny.

Underswap!Wingding (Thread): My dear, my little patchwork, darling, marshmallow / cinnamon spice / pumpkin pie.

Underswap!Asriel (Buttercup): Dummy (affectionately). He gets embarrassed by nicknames.

Mafiafell!Sans (Hit): for feminine presenting partner: doll face, sweetheart, lil lady, cookie. For masculine presenting partner: pal, buzz, lil gent, dish. For neutral, mixture of both depending on his mood.

Mafiafell!Papyrus (Boss): He doesn’t do nicknames, per se, but instead waxes poetry for you about you in private. He’d also prefer it if you didn’t give him nicknames in public. Reputation is very important to him and his family and he expects you respect that.

Mafiafell!Wingding (Don): Muse, my dear, darling, puppet, marionette, toy

Mafiafell!Asriel (Heir): Meadow, my haven, my sunshine (if early riser) / my nightfall (if late sleeper)

Slumbertale!Sans (Slumber): Buddy, chum, pal, bucko, friend, fella who naps with me, pillow, blanket, kitten (if you nap often) / puppy (if you do not take naps often), the one who makes plans, my worser half (jokingly), my alarm clock, etc. He’ll come up with obscure and odd nicknames depending on your routine together.

Slumbertale!Papyrus (Mayor): MY RIGHT HAND! There is no bigger compliment because this fella HATES to rely on anyone so if you’re his right hand then you’re someone as invaluable to him as his own right hand.

Slumbertale!Wingding (Abyss): Dewdrop.

Slumbertale!Asriel (Unending): My dream come true, dreamer, buttercup, butterscotch, butter biscuit

Slumbertale!Grillby (Sleeby): His nickname will be dependent on your favorite drink. For example if you like pina coladas he’d call you his sweet coconut, and if you like soda he’d call you his pop-heart.

Horrortale!Sans (Axe): No nicknames unless you specifically tell him to. He just doesn’t think about it.

Horrortale!Papyrus (Sugar): My little meatball, Strawberry jam, rhubarb pie, my berry, love, heart, SOUL

Horrortale!Wingding (Ghost): my heart / our hope

Horrortale!Asriel (Yarrow): butterscotch, cinnamon bun, and sun drop

Horrortale!Grillby (Calcifer): no nicknames!

Reapertale!Sans (Reaper): Nothing set in stone. He'll come up with one time nicknames for puns. Like if you were burned alive & died to met him, he'd call you hot stuff. If you drowned he'd call you a mermaid with lungs. Things along those lines.

Sciencetale!Sans (Doc): he tried nicknames. It came out awkward because he kept stuttering and he was deeply embarrassed so he never did it again.

Sciencetale!Wingding (Professor): Treasure

Siren!Sans (Siren): That’s a human concept, so he wouldn’t choose any. You can tell him what you want him to call you and he’ll accommodate.

Siren!Wingding (Apex): Same as above.

Dustttale!Sans (Dust): Idiot, fool, daydreamer, dreamer, (and very rarely when he thinks you aren’t listening) my miracle

MASTERLIST (HCS & REQUESTED SCENARIOS)

#undertale #undertale au #underfell #underswap #mafiafell #slumbertale #siren sans #siren wingdings #horrortale #reapertale #dusttale #dust sans #sciencetale #hc #interactive fiction #jelly donut #iykyk

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0nonjudgement0 · 4 months ago

Text

ꕥ Ring of Thorns ꕥ

Chapter 1: Pansies Popping Like… Poppers (How Dod Shakespeare Do This?)

Masterlist // Chapter 2

WC: 774

CW: John Price is a shitty husband, self harm, suicidal ideations, angst

It’s 10 am–correction, 10:58 am–when you wake up. You’ll tell anyone who asks that you woke up at 8. It’s cold too, the roots of February

still refusing to let go of the season. The pansies sitting in the windowsill, wrapped in soft, warm soil that still held the droplets of tap water you gave it and held together by a pot, open their faces towards the sun. Baby blue fading into indigo and supernova fade into faint starlight. Some of them have crossbred into patchwork.

A faint, cool puff of fur paws at your nose, hints of claws scratching your nose.

It’s 10:13 am when you sit the now full food and water dishes onto the fancy mats for the cats in the kitchen. The rag-doll perches directly in front of her food bowl, taking sips of water as needed and wiping off her mouth; the tiny, puffy lint ball of a feline stumbles into the kitchen, almost running into the counter before taking a large gulp of water. Two-Face was still getting used to the layout of the house, and it’s a bit hard to do so when he’s missing an eye and an ear.

It’s 5:00 pm when you finally step into the shower. Well, not a shower. It’s a hot bath, with the blinds closed and curtains drawn, candles lit, fancy soap and bath bombs and shaving cream and shampoo. The door is cracked open too–to let out steam, you tell yourself. You use the fancy shampoo, scrubbing your scalp; smoothing in the conditioner and brushing it in, letting it sit as you use the fancy soap to lather your body; you use the shaving cream and shave your legs. The water stays hot, since it’s some nice one that's like a hot tub and keeps the temperature.

The door creaks open, and you look up, expecting him. The crack door that wasn’t really kept open to let out steam.

“-eow,” Two-Face says. You fool! You fell for it! Dolly mocks behind him. Dolly hops up gracefully, weaving through the bottles to sit on the wide corner of space behind the tub. Two-Face jumps up onto the ledge, stumbling and knocking a few bottles into the water. Half of him blends in with the dark, the other one burning amber like the candle. “-eow,” he says again, the ‘me’ gone from his meow. Sorry. I’m sure he still cares.

The water is steaming, but your toes are still cold.

It’s 6:20 pm as you sit on a stool in front of your vanity, staring at the reflection as you peel off the face mask. Sometimes, you wonder what if you could just peel off your skin and slip on a new one. You wish you could sometimes.

Two drops of toner in your hand, rub it into your face. Waft it dry. One and a half drops of Vitamin C and Hyaluronic acid in your hand, rub it into your face. Pick up the cold guasha and go over your jawline and cheekbones.

It’s whenever you're trying to sculpt your face, push the fat into a more flattering place, when he walks into the room. Duffel Bag in hand, eyes harsh and cold, dark circles speaking of sleepless nights and stress. John was a good man. He was a soldier, a leader, fighting a force that was unimaginable to civilians. But he wasn’t a good husband

Your throat constricts, and your eyes sting.

“Don’t start that with me,” he scolds, dropping the bag onto the floor. “I came in here for a moment to not be an asshole–don’t fucking start with me.”

“I’m not,” you argue, staring up at the white ceiling. White. Pure white. Not even a tile in sight. So interesting.

“Yes, you are. I’m so goddamn tired and this is what you do?” It was a rhetorical question, of course. “I should’ve just gone straight to my office.”

“It was our anniversary today.” God, you sounded so whiny. ‘It’s our anniversary todayyyy!’ The little squeak from sniffling truly makes you want to smash your forehead off the desk, maybe even shatter the mirror. A shard would come down, scratching your artery and it would turn the white ceiling red, the white vanity maroon, and the floor would glitter scarlet.

He walks off, shutting the door with a hard thud. You could almost hear the ticking of ice in his whiskey glass in his office.

“I love you,” you murmur, nails biting into a bump on your arm.

A puff of fur in the form of a paw taps the tears on your cheek.

#fanfic #writing #cod mw2 #task force 141 #john price #john price x reader #price x reader #captain john price #captain price #angst

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