#so i'll be quite sad if he don't want to interact with me at all anymore and it might makes things slightly awkward

[thesmokinpossum]

also tomorrow i need to tell some really nice dude i went on a couple of date with that it's just not gonna work out and not trying to be dramatic or anything but the stress of it kinda makes me feel like a piece of charcoal in a burning bbq

[logansdoll]

jim beam

navigating life in a new universe was already a bit of a struggle for Logan... and Wade just had to make it worse (or far, far, far better) by giving him a "house-warming gift".

CW: suggestive, profanity, takes place after the events of Deadpool 3, Wade is actually really hard to write for, Logan deserves the world, comfort, angst if you squint, etc.

"Honey, I'm home!" Wade loudly sang, kicking open the door to Logan's apartment with a dramatic flourish.

"Fuck me," Logan groaned from his spot on the couch, closing his eyes and allowing his head to lull back with annoyance.

This defeated the entire purpose of why he got his own apartment in the first place.

To avoid these types of interactions with the most persistently, consistently annoying asshole in the entire multiverse.

"Now, now, is that any way to talk to the friend who's about to bring your long lost lover back from the dead?" Wade tutted, skipping into the living room, taking notice of the bottle of liquor resting in Logan's hand.

'So it's that kinda morning...'

"Jim Beam at 10 am on a Tuesday?" he noted, "Well, I guess it's five o'clock nowhere... so have at it."

"What did you just say?" Logan sat up straight, brows furrowed as he focused on Wade's previous statement.

"Alcoholics everywhere salute you for taking your liver where no organ has gone before."

"Wade."

"I'm honestly starting to believe you do it for the love of the game rather than the expositional, look how sad he is plot device the author is currently using... I mean, seriously? Can we skip past all this bullshit and get to the—"

Quickly, Logan grabbed him by the front of his suit, yanking him closer with an angrily confused expression.

"If anything besides a goddamn answer comes out of your mouth... I will stab you in the face," he growled, spelling out each syllable to further his point. "What the hell do you mean bring her back from the dead?"

To Logan, you were everything

The sun. The moon. The air. The clouds.

Despite seeing all the horrible thing he'd done, and knowing firsthand just how much of an asshole he could be, you still smiled at him.

No matter how many times he pushed you away, you were relentless.

Keeping his room together while he was away finding himself.

Making him meals when you noticed he he'd gone without eating.

Forcing him to take breathers after intense sessions in the Danger Room.

For the longest, he couldn't wrap his head around someone like you caring about a jackass like him.

Until he got fed up and just outright asked.

But, as if nothing, you answered:

"Your past makes think you don't deserve love, Logan," you started, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned up against the counter. "You storm around here with a rude ass attitude and a smart mouth hoping to convince me of that... but if anything, you're only making it worse for yourself."

You smiled, looking up at him with a glint in your eye that sent shocks running down his spine.

"Because in my heart of hearts I know you're a man who wants care and attention, just like everybody else."

With a chuckle, you rested a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"And I'll keep shovin' dinners down your throat until you realize that."

Despite having everyone else fooled, you saw right through him, and true to your word, you didn't give up.

With every made bed, every meal, every conversation, Logan felt himself falling deeper into your charm, and over a glass of Jim Beam did he finally realize that he was in love with you.

But, like everything else he cared about in this world, you were taken away from him.

Unable to find your body in the rubble of the mansion, he looked high and low, quite literally going to the ends of the Earth to find you.

But after years of searching with nothing to show for it, he returned to the bottle, drowning himself in sorrow and regret.

Or, at least... until now.

"Well, according to the manual, she's not exactly dead, but she is unconscious," Wade answered, matter-of-factly.

"Unconscious?" Logan's brows furrowed, still quite confused.

Freeing himself from the man's grip, Wade stood up, going back around the couch and pulling out a small tablet from his pocket.

"See, I've noticed your humble abode could use a little sprucing, so I went back to our buddies at the TVA and kindly reminded them that you saved the multiverse and, godammnit, you deserve a reward."

"Get to the fuckin' point, jackass," Logan spat, turning to face him.

"So they sent some men back to your universe and found your girl!" Wade cheered, opening up a portal and reaching his hand in, pulling out a cryo-chamber with you inside.

The moment Logan's eyes met your sleeping face, all color and vibrancy seemed to return to the world.

He was at a loss for words.

You were here... not some dream or hallucination of guilt... but actually, truly, physically here.

"Apparently, some science fuckers were keeping her in a black site and testing to see how long she could go without aging. I won't bore you with the details," Wade explained, pulling out a small knife from his boot. "Now, let's break this bad boy open and meet the future Mrs. Wolverine!"

Before Logan could stop him, Wade stabbed the keypad at the side of the chamber, opening the door and sending you falling forward.

In an instant, Logan dropped his bottle and leaped over the couch, catching you just before you could face-plant on the hardwood floor.

"Watch it!" Logan roared, less than happy that you'd only been there for about three minutes and Wade had already almost broken your nose.

"I am so sorry!" Wade gasped, his hands slapping his cheeks in shock. "I didn't think she'd actually fall out the chamber when they told me she'd fall out the chamber... Nice save, though, Romeo."

Turning you over, Logan cupped your cheek, the chill of your skin already beginning to warm.

But you were still out cold, limp in his grasp as he held you close to his chest.

"She's not waking up..." Logan noticed, brows furrowed. "Why the hell isn't she waking up?"

"Easy there, tiger. They told me how long it takes varies from person to person," Wade assured, shutting the portal. "Some take minutes, others hours. It could be a couple of days before she even opens her eyes."

An expression of solemnity slid over Logan's face as he gazed over yours, your skin still so flesh colored, it looked as if you were sleeping.

Just as soft and tender as he remembered.

And he had full intentions on keeping it that way.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he ghosted his hand over your cheek.

In that moment, he swore to himself that he'd never leave you again.

He'd be a friend, a bodyguard, a lover, whatever you wanted, but no matter his title, anything that wanted to harm you would have to do so over his dead body.

And even then he'd force himself to get back up and fight.

This world was giving him a second chance at life, a second chance at a life with you, and he'd be damned if he let anything ruin it.

Suddenly, you took in an aggressive gasp, scaring the shit out of Wade as your eyes snapped open.

"Holy fucking shit nuggets!" he jolted, jumping from his spot across he room as Logan allowed his shoulders to sink, mumbling a quiet thanks to whatever god or deity brought you back to him.

Feeling a strong set of arms cradling you, you looked up, solace setting into your bones at the sight of the familiar man before you, who was unable to stop the few joyful tears escaping his eyes.

"Logan—"

Without a moment's hesitation, his lips were on yours, making up for what felt like a lifetime of loss by dumping all of his passion, all of his love, all of his devotion into one Earth shattering kiss.

You melted into it seamlessly, your hand finding home in his scruffy hair as he pulled you flush against him, clutching you with a death grip.

Donning a cheeky smile under his mask, Wade turned away to give you both a moment, thought not without making a crude sex gesture behind his back.

'I don't think Miss (Y/N)/Girl Sitting At Home Reading This is gonna be able to walk tomorrow...'

With a gasp, the two of you separated, Logan's hand raising to cup your cheek, relishing how easily you leaned into him.

"(y/n)... I thought I lost you," he panted, his eyes scouring over your face, committing every detail to memory.

"For a while, you did," you sighed with a grin, carding a hand through the few gray strands in his hair, before comparing them to your own. "Time looks good on you."

He chuckled, quietly relieved you still found him attractive after all these years.

Sitting up, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled the man into a bone crushing hug, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck.

"I'm not really sure what happened... or how I'm alive..." you weakly laughed, starting to get choked up. "But I know that if you go out drinking without me ever again, I'm putting your head on a spike."

Instantly, Logan's arms wrapped around your waist, holding you reverently as if he let go for one moment, the powers that be would part him from you.

"I swear on my life... I'll never let anyone hurt you again."

[zephrunsimperium]

Ford is a jerk to Fiddleford McGucket in Journal 3. Let's talk about that.

First I want to preface this post by saying that I adore Ford. He is a wonderful character who has influenced my life in countless ways for the better. All of the things he does in this list a) stem from his own insecurities that he's projecting b) are symptoms of Ford's narcissistic defense mechanisms c) or come from Bill's influence on him. However, just because there are reasons for his actions doesn't excuse them, especially considering just how many there are.

Here's the list of things he does, I'll analyze at the end of the post.

Let's get the petty things out of the way first.

The cubic's cube: I think it is just straight up an absolute jerk move to scramble this thing that's clearly a comfort to him and think it's funny.

Being in shape: It's obvious his comments here are from his own insecurity but on a deeper level it just speaks to how Ford sees him, I think.

Not telling Fidds about Bill: Obviously Bill was feeding him a lot of paranoia but it's the reasoning that he writes down that gets me. It's so condescending.

The Gremloblin & The Shapeshifter

Something I think that's worth taking note of is the way Ford illustrates both of these instances. He brushes off Fiddleford's concerns multiple times and then Fiddleford pays the price and Ford sees himself as some kind of hero and Fiddleford this helpless victim. It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

And then afterwards the way he handles not just Fiddleford's anxiety but the genuine trauma he went through. I know he's an old man, I know that's how he was treated, but Fiddleford is supposed to be his friend.

The Portal Test

Specifically their interaction at the diner and Ford's reaction to Fiddleford quitting the project. Fiddleford SELFLESSLY spends untold hours on this thesis for Ford because he cares about him and sees him burning out, even though Ford hasn't been great to him and Fidds has been going through his own hard things - not just with the gremloblin and the Shapeshifter, but things with his family as well. Ford does not match that selfless devotion at all. In fact, he sees it as an insult.

Analysis

The reason I've been thinking about this is because of Book of Bill and how that's influenced the shipping atmosphere. There's this weird notion that FiddAuthor is a less toxic ship but I think that's absurd. Besides their hug at Weirdmageddon, these journal entries are pretty much all we see of Ford's relationship with Fiddleford and it doesn't paint a pretty picture. Yes Ford is excited to have Fiddleford come to see him, yes Ford has that sweet conversation with him under the stars, but I don't think it's a stretch to say that all the above evidence outweighs hat. At the very least it shouldn't be ignored.

That doesn't mean Ford is a terrible person and we should hate him. I believe strongly in nuance and Ford is a character that requires nuance. I don't think he's an evil person, but I also don't think he should be babied as this perfect wittle guy who can do no wrong either. Both readings do a disservice to him.

Ford clearly had a hard childhood. He's isolated himself his whole life and he's been severely traumatized by Bill. But that doesn't mean that he deserves Fiddleford's forgiveness - Ford wasn't really that kind to him and his actions inadvertently led to the memory gun/Fidds' exposure to Bill. Ultimately it's Fiddleford's choice to make; I wouldn't fault him if he didn't want to ever see Ford again, but I think it's a testament to his goodness that he still cares for Ford as much as he does.

So what do I personally think? Man. I'm just sad we don't know more about Fiddleford McGucket than we do. He's so essential to Bill's defeat and to Ford's past and he's such a cool character but we know so little about him. I want to know what his childhood was like, I want to know how he ended up in Backupsmore, I want to know why he cares about Ford as much as he does, I want to know why things ended so poorly with EmmaMay. But we may never know those things for certain. So with the things we're left... Yeah, I think FiddAuthor is a compelling reading, one that I certainly enjoy. I just worry about the fandom babying Ford.

[bubblebbg]

would you be able to do a Miguel x f!reader where the reader is a civilian who's the sunshine to his grumpy? She's pretty much the definition of the quote "the violence it took to be this kind". She had an abusive childhood, and unfortunately she's currently up in an abusive relationship, she tries really hard to hide her pain with warmth and laughter, hiding her bruises with long sleeves in the summer and concealer.

This is my first request, I'm so happy! I wasn't really comfortable writing the physical abuse part (I don't want to misrepresent this issue) , so I've made it to where the reader is in an unhappy relationship instead. I hope this is along the lines of what you wanted. :)

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞.

Miguel O'Hara x reader

To him, you're one of those people that deserves better, deserves the best. Today especially, that's what you should be getting. If Miguel could, he'd hand you worlds on a silver platter. But he can't. Not with your boyfriend around to stop him.

Part 2

"Your boyfriend is the biggest asshole I've ever met. Come on, you have to know this by now." Miguel has pulled you to the balcony of your apartment and away from the music and festivities, his jaw clenched with anger as he seethes. He's never liked your boyfriend; there's you, the sweet, kind woman who's always considerate, endlessly patient, practically saintly in nature. And then there's your boyfriend, some scum of the earth who's only ever been callous and cold during your interactions. Miguel has tried and tried and tried to keep his mouth shut about it, but the way your smile faltered as you explained that he couldn't take off work to be at your birthday party is his last straw. "Seriously, today of all day's he has to work? Say the word and I'm sending that douchebag flying through a wall-"

"Miguel, stop it. It's fine, he's just a busy guy you know? And I'm sure you throw enough people around already." You chuckle, but the sadness doesn't quite leave your eyes. You sip some of the champagne in your glass, sighing as you let the alcohol numb some of your senses. Looking out at the cityscape, arms folded on the railing. He really wishes you knew how much you deserve, and the selfish part of him wants to be the one to give that to you.

When you catch him staring at you, at the way the lights of the city glow on your face, he turns forward, sighing and running a hand through his hair. "I just don't get it is all. You could have anyone you wanted, why him? Hell, you're better off alone than with him. If I could make the decisions for you, he would've been gone a long time ago."

You step closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder, eyes closed and the champagne drained from your glass. "I know you're concerned about me, but in the end these decisions are mine to make. I'll talk to him after the party. Until then, how's everything at work? Still got a lot on your hands?"

A smile plays at his lips, feeling a bit warm from the touch. "Hey, don't go changing the subject on me. We need to talk about this."

"You change the subject on me all of the time! Humor me on my birthday, please." He rolls his eyes because he can't believe that you'd play the birthday card on him, but he also knows he can never say no to you. Not with the way you look at him. So he puts an arm around your shoulders and lets a breath out his nose.

"Still stressful, but not so bad. I guess your whole 'have meetings to help people with their mission strategy instead of just yelling at them' plan has been working." You laugh at that, eyes crinkling as you lean more into him. You look good like this, the cheery person you usually are, not the one being let down by their partner. "See? And how hard was that? If I had spider powers like you, I'd be the ultimate diplomatic leader and badass." He can't stop the laughter that bubbles up in his chest when you punch and kick the air to emphasize your badassery.

"Your form is terrible," he smirks, "You'd be dead in seconds."

"And if it weren't for me, every spider ever would have quit because of your nagging."

"Right, right, whatever makes you feel better, civilian."

This is how it's supposed to be, the way it was before you decided to date this guy. It was always you and Miguel before: him carrying all of your grocery bags as you raved about some new hobby, you and him on the roof of your apartment building, him pointing out flaws in a movie at the theater while you ate all the popcorn, him begrudgingly pushing you on a park swing despite his assertations that you were in fact too old to still do this. It hits him all at once. He's missed you. Your absence leaves gaps in his life that no one else can fill.

"Hey," he mumbles, "I know you said you didn't want any gifts, but I got you something. Happy birthday."

Your eyes widen as he timidly hands you a rectangular box, his gaze turned to the city and a light blush on his face. He watches through the corner of his eyes as you open it. Inside is a silver necklace with a lily-of-the-valley preserved in resin, the flower you told him about that grew around your childhood home. Your palm comes to cover your mouth and tears well up in your eyes at the considerate nature of his gift. (That's Miguel, always remembering the details of things you say. When was the last time your boyfriend did that again?) Miguel turns to face you with an anxious expression. "Do you not like it? I left the receipt in there, you can return it and use the money on-"

"No, no, no, it's beautiful," you smile, turning and lifting the hair from your neck, "Could you please put it on me?"

He sighs in relief, taking the necklace and clasping it gently around your neck. As soon as he's done you jump into his arms with a delighted giggle, beaming with joy. He lets himself hug you back for a few more seconds before setting you down. Seeing you like this has his heart racing as he's filled with the courage to say it, to tell you what you mean to him. He opens his mouth to speak and -

Someone shouts through the sliding doors of the balcony, "Hey, where have you been? Get inside, your boyfriend just got here!"

And just like that, the courage is gone, his mouth closing to a slight frown. As he's preparing to go back in and stomach the sight of you with that man, he sees you climbing the steps of the fire escape and stops at the door.

"What are you doing?"

You stop, turning to look at him with the breeze at your back and the moon shining on you. You offer your hand to him.

"Come on, let's go. We can sit on the rooftop like we used to."

He pauses, taking a look at the party inside. Then he takes your hand and you're leading him up like you used to, and everything that was out of place in him shifts back to fit. He smiles at how small and smooth your hand is in his larger, rough one. Yeah, he thinks.

This is how it's meant to be.

[mikodrawnnarratives]

Have some art + fic rn cuz i had this idea plaguing me for a whlie in my first playthrough of the game and i needed to have it realized.

I don't want to edit my writing just yet so i'll do that later, but for now have some mentally unstable Siffrin 👍

I'll come up with a title ltr, prob when i edit this and post to ao3 (so if this gets reblogs just check out the og post for latest ver.)

For now the warnings you should know of are just character death, lots of Siff hating himself, and i think suicide ideation? I wrote this a few hours ago n still don't want to go back just yet but basically its nothing that doesn't already exist in the game

Fic starts under the cut! Roughly 2000 words

(edit: i forgor some colors don't exist/can't be seen 🤡, fixed now!)

Siffrin can’t seem to fall asleep at all anymore. The night right before the loops he can only pretend to get some rest before facing the king. He isn’t quite sure what the reason is. Being stuck in one place for too long? Useless? His urges to reach out for Isa’s touch that keep him awake at night, yearning for connection that is immediately are followed by disgust in himself?  The pure exhaustion at the thought of repeating the next day again? None seem to be the answer. Maybe its a combination.

He only knows that he’s exhausted. Exhausted, yet unable to rest. Even if he were able, would he want to risk what ever dream or nightmare his head might concoct? A blend of memories and deaths to remind him that he can’t escape?

Not being able to sleep makes them worse at the loops too unfortunately. They got along fine for the first few loops after his first sleepless night, though the mistakes ramped up. They cursed their body, cursed themself for being so weak. Simple and stupid mistakes getting them killed via boulder when they forgot and slip of the hand resulting in the weakest of Sadnesses offing him.

Loop of course taunted about his failures, like they always do. He couldn’t fully blame them, knowing deep down he deserved it. There was a pull he sometimes had though, to rest with them, even for just a little bit. He’s hung out with them before, when it gets overwhelming, never for very long. Despite that, to actually sleep with them is a different story. Different vulnerability that, he wasn’t comfortable with. Too weak, he didn’t need another thing for Loop to tease him about. No matter how tempting it would be to sit in the tree and doze off. He wouldn’t doubt that, if he could rest at this point, he would doze off until the next loop.

He can’t have that. He can’t let his family die again.

The next loop began, the stage set, and Siff opened his eye, despite every ache in their body telling them not too. They can’t listen to their body right now though. They need to travel the entire house in the next few loops for anything he might have missed before. One more sweep. 

He carries out his lines, plays the role he’s meant, rehearsing the other actor’s lines in his head before they speak up. Familiar steps, expressions, directions. When they get to Isabeau, they slip up again, Isa’s concern blooms. But they’ve seen this before. It’ll be fine. Their gut twists at forcing Isa to be concerned, but theres a warmth in it too. That Isa cares. Cares about them. It’s strange, when Odile gets close to the truth, stars when she FINDS OUT the truth, there isn’t any warmth. Just, fear. But knowing Isa won’t find out, just cares and makes them promise to talk about it at a time they know won’t come, it’s a guilty pleasure. At least, for now. Before it becomes meshed with all the other lines Siffrin has come to expect from The Fighter.

While navigation the House like normal, they slip up occasionally, interacting with objects that spark Odile’s concern. They don’t bother reversing the mistakes, he hasn’t slipped up that much. There’s no way she could know. Siff crumbled on the first floor at the counter they jabbed themself into again. Unable to see it and always stupidly forgetting to be cautious there. Stupid. 

And they kept making mistakes. Their exhaustion pulling at their body, their nerves eating them alive. There’s no warmth with new lines of concern from their actors. Just spikes of panic followed by their attempts to reassure them. To continue on.

By the final snack stop before the King, their actor’s change the script again. Siffrin tensed, their hand tracing the handle of their dagger in case of emergency. Odile… odile doesn’t call out suspicious connections to time craft this time. Everyone just.. Just asks him to nap.

The third floor they had fumbled the most, their quick grabs at the keys became more clumsy against his will. His hands can’t stop shaking. The aches won’t cease their whining in his body. Change, of course they noticed, they aren’t blind. The script is similar, repeating the words that simultaneously warm his body and send nausea through it. They’re a family. They care.

Absently, Siffrin notes Mira’s asking him if he’ll accept a comb, again. At least that’s familiar. At least one of them new the script to stick to. And, he really wouldn’t mind it again. The loops reset his hair back to the tangled and knotted mess it was when he startled back to awareness in Dormont. Everytime. Sometimes they briefly wondered if Mirabelle would comb their hair out back in town too. They would never ask though.

Their family quietly chated as Mirabelle combed through his hair. Gently, dare they think lovingly. Careful not to hurt him. Like he’s fragile and weak. Pathetic. They are pathetic aren’t they. For wanting this. Selfish for forcing them. Their hands continued to tremble, as much as Siff tried to suppress it.

The Fighter changes the script first. First to notice. Notice a slip up. They tense, not for any particular reason just, they don’t know this script. The Fighter’s face is concerned but softens. Isa. Isa asked hesitantly it he could see their hands. Siff let him, letting their pathetic shaking hands be engulfed in Isa’s large ones. He hesitantly rubs their knuckles, Mira continues to brush the tangles out of their hair. Siff’s eyelid got heavier, their body screaming to just let go, just relax. They haven’t reached the king yet, the head housemaid, they can’t yet. 

When they heard Odile close her book, another off script action, they jolted up and looked her way. Odile was about to speak up, but hesitated at their startled form. Her concerned and piercing expression remained.

“Siffrin, did you get any rest at all last night?”

They stop and meekly speak up, “I slept..”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Siffrin grimaced, tensing up. “I got.. Some rest. Why do you ask?”

“The fumbling around and absent performance don’t suggest you did.”

She had them there. Their fingers twitch as they internally remind themselves their dagger is still on their person. Even if their hands are occupied with being held by Isa’s. They take a breath.

The other actors contribute, sharing their nerves about facing the King. Needing to be ready before confronting the Threat, that could be their final standing place. No. No they won’t fail. They won’t die here. He might, but he won’t let his family.

Odile is actually the first to suggest Siffrin rest before they face the King. They can’t have any weak links before such a moment. Weak members. Weak. They were clumsy this loop. Their other family members share in the sentiment. They probably think he’s weak too. Their concerned smiles are hard to say no to though. The aches and exhaustion overwhelming his body probably wouldn’t let him refuse such an opportunity either. Surely. Surely they went through the first couple floors quick enough that another fifteen minutes before the king wouldn’t be too long. Right?

It’s a thought that didn’t seem to cross his family member’s faces when he gave into their requests and laid down. Mira scooted over, getting started on the next clump of tangled hair. Isa offered his lap as a pillow, and Siffrin’s slow mind just. Accepts the request. Not noting the dark shade flooding The Fighter’s face as they dragged their body to his lap, their head and partial upper body relaxing immediately. They rest their head on their blind side, one hand interlaced with The Fighter’s, behind them Mira finishing off the last of their tangles. The concern from their family’s faces hasn’t completely disappeared, but it’s eased. And that is enough to release the remaining tension in his body. It’s enough. 

Their family makes a few jokes that their brain muffles. Some laughing. Bonnie’s working on their snacks in the corner, still. They’ll be ready when they wake up. Their legs adjusted and placed in someone else’s lap, they think. Whoever it was, rubs circles into their calf. His eyelid grows heavier, their breathes come easy. Deep breaths. Someone rubs their back. 

It’s nice. Really.. really nice. One could easily forget they were even about to face the King at all. Face the end. They close their eyelid. It’s warm. One breath in. And out. Just.. just a quick nap. Where they are loved. They.. they are loved right? This is what this means… at least right now…

Yeah. They hope this is right.

Sleep engulfs them for the first time in several loops and their breaths slow.

The chatting continues around him, not lacking some glances exchanged between the adults in the room. But mostly, just relief fills the air. Mira stayed by Siffrin’s side, threading her fingers through his now completely combed out hair. The flush in Isabeau’s cheeks still hadn’t fully left, every movement reminding him of his crush resting so peacefully in his lap. Like a sleeping cat that once it has claimed you as it’s cushion, you are bound by the universe to not move for any reason. Odile didn’t pass up the opportunity to tease him, met with Isa’s shushing and hushed whisper “what if he wakes up and hears you!!”

Siff had done a lot today, and everyone would have assumed he was completely calm about fighting the king if not for his uncharacteristic clumsiness. Mirabelle supposed it made sense though. A night of rough sleep right before facing the most dangerous threat facing the country? That would make anyone mess up.

After another twenty minutes, Bonnie comes over with the freshly prepared snacks. Made extra special since they were more ahead of schedule than expected. Last hurrah before the king, everyone needed to be at their best.

Mirabelle smiles, heading over to were Bonnie had announced the snacks. Isa attempts to move but flounders at the idea of moving Siff. Mirabelle giggles at his flushing face as Odile moves their legs out of their lap. Well, time to end their nap she supposes. Their sleepy family member probably won’t be too thrilled about waking up but it is snack time.

Mirabelle collects her choice of snack and crouches over to Siff, moving their hat from where it had obscured their resting expression. Isa looked both upset to have the time his crush sleeps on their lap come to an end, and relieved. He lets out a chuckle as Mira gently shakes their shoulder.

“Time to wake up, Siffrin! Bonnie has snacks for everyone.” Mira moves a few hairs out of their face. “Siffrin?”

Isabeau adjusts, and joins in. “Siff? Sorry to wake you bud but..” He pauses, seeing Mirabelle’s face shift. Odile’s gaze sharpens as Mirabelle’s leans over them, placing her ear to their chest.

“They- th-they aren’t” Mira cries out. “They aren’t breathing! No no no-” 

Isabeau moves Siffrin off his lap with shaking hands. Odile rushes over to their side, checking their wrist and neck for a pulse. Bonnie’s face crumbles in the corner, alarm replacing the happy air.

Isabeau shakes Siffrin’s still body, Mirabelle readies a heal craft as Odile begins to try resuscitating them.

but 

the 

world

goes

blank

Siffrin first feels the gentle breeze around them. The grass moving in tune, sometimes brushing up against the small areas their clothes don’t cover. They hear Mirabelle in the distance and when they open their eyes, she’s right above them, apologetic for waking them. Siffrin blinks. It’s been a while since Mira’s been the one to wake them up. 

“Good morning! Well, more like good afternoon, I gue- wow. Are you okay?”

That’s new. Why would her lines-

“You’re crying.. Is something wrong, Siffrin?”

He blinks and brings a hand to his face. Sure enough, his cheek is stained with tears. He doesn’t remember crying, he just woke up too. From..

“Must’ve happened in my sleep” He says absently.

Mira frowns, “Oh no! What did you dream about…?”

Siffrin shrugs and repeats lines he remembers that will reassure her the quickest. She sighs and returns back to town. They’ll be waiting for him.

He takes a moment to think about what happened in the last loop. He.. doesn’t remember dying. Must have been when he went to sleep. That. That probably should worry him, that falling asleep could end a loop, but he doesn’t feel any regret about it. Actually, it’d be nice if all his loops ended like that. Just, dying with his loved ones around. It would take too long though, even if it could happen again. This loop needs to be faster. Last loop they didn’t even reach the king, and they have questions. 

He grumbles as he sits up, a part of him yearning to go back to that warmth. Oh if only the universe could have let it be permanent. A permanent death that didn’t even hurt. That’s wishful thinking though, the universe isn’t so kind. And they have work to do, his family- actors. They need what he knows. He can’t rest forever yet.

The show must go on.

[kurokens]

Everything I Love Will Make Me Cry | Satosugu

anime/manga: jujutsu kaisen

character: gojo satoru & geto suguru

words: 1.5k

pronouns: they/them

request: none

notes: part 3 of In The Middle, my first satosugu piece. trying stg new by including some texts in the middle but idk if i'm a fan, just didn't know how to convey it better than this way.. don't judge the quality of the text this is an app i used to use back in 2020 and i didn't want to try and find a new one. also thank u to 🪼 anon, ur message helped me get out of writer block, this one for u!!

not proof read

song rec: Everything I Love Will Make Me Cry - Movning

genre: hurt comfort, fluff, slowburn, a little bit angsty, poly?

warnings: satosugu are in a loving relationship, misunderstanding, pinning, a lot of pinning on satosugu's end, reader is so oblivious, insecure and self conscious reader

Taking all of your clothes and getting out of the apartment was probably one of the hardest thing you ever had to do in your life. Especially what forced you to do it. But what else could you do? You no longer were welcomed there, and you knew it, the longer you stayed and the worse it would hurt. So you took advantage of both of your roomates being gone for the day to pack your essentials, write a note and get out of there. Not without your vision blurred by your tears. You didn't really plan your next moves but it felt like an evidence to just go and crash at Shoko's, such an evidence that you refused to do it. After all she was just as close with these two as you were, well, as you used to, so it would be quite an awkward position for her, and you refused to impose this on her. That's how you found yourself at the door of an old friend of yours, looking like a kicked puppy. "What are you doing looking like a sad little puppy?" Namami said after opening the door.

"Please don't, I already told you, and I don't want to cry any more than I've already did." You replied in a whine, to which he just gave a roll of his eyes, stepping aside to let you in.

"Haibara is in the kitchen, he is making some food for you. He thought you could use a warm meal right now." The blonde man told you, leading you towards the kitchen.

"M'not really hungry though..." You sighed, following him without another complaint.

"Ah! Don't say that, I've poured my soul into this meal. You better eat and appreciate it!!" Haibara exclaimed, popping his head through the door after hearing you two coming his way. "I made your favourite!"

"It smells wonderful Yū, I'll eat it, just for you. And enjoy it, that's for sure." You giggled, seeing his enthusiam and the effort he put into this, pulling the younger boy in your arms.

"You can stay here as long as you need. And I promise I won't say a word to Satoru and Suguru about your whereabouts." Nanami chimed in, a soft smile on his face at your interactions.

"Haha, you don't have to worry about that. They're probably not gonna look for me at all, on the contrary." You whispered the last part, tears starting to well up again.

"Just, don't rush yourself to find a new place okay? You're more than welcomed to stay there. And I'm sure all of this must be a big misunderstanding." He gently answered.

"Thank you so much. It means a lot, even though I do doubt your last words." Was all you could muster as an answer.

To say the lovers were frantic was an understatement, they need to find you, they needed to tell you what they felt and how all of this was a misunderstanding. There was no way they were about to lose you over this, no not like this, not before you knew what you meant to them. It couldn't end with you thinking they hated you, lord, it was so far from the truth. They would never forgive themselves.

"Try calling them!!" Satoru shouted, pacing around your empty room.

"I already tried Toru, they're not answering, I go straight to voicemail." Suguru replied, his heart sinking at the potential meaning of his calls going straight to voicemail.

"No, no, no... You have to try again, please Sugu, try again!" The white-haired man begged, his voice breaking as the tears made their way up. "Sugu, this can't be it. Sugu we need to find them, this can't be it, please this can't be it."

All Suguru could do was take his lover into his arms, letting him break down and cry on his shoulders. Words stuck in his throat, as his own tears made their way down his cheeks. He never felt this helpless.

"Maybe..." He began slowly, "Maybe we should try and text them. So they can read it whenever they feel like it and not feel pressured to answer right away."

"Let's do that." Satoru grundgingly said, his pout never leaving his face.

Both of them let out a breath seeing your answer, it wasn't really positive one but at least they weren't blocked, and right now it meant already a lot for them. They would give you all the time in the world you needed, they were ready to wait an eternity if it meant that you would come back to them in the end. Well, at least Suguru was ready for that, Satoru was a whole other story. "M'gonna die Sugu. M'gonna disappear from the face of the earth if I don't see them soon." The youngest whined, holding onto his lover for dear life. "Why don't we call Shoko? I'm sure they're with her. Even better, we could just go there and tell them how this is just a misunderstanding, and we can tell them how much we love them and how we want them in our space forever, and never out of it."

"Baby, we have to wait and you know it. We don't know what they heard, and why they're so hurt. It made them leave our place Toru, it's not something we can fix that easily. We probably lost their trust, and winning it back won't be an easy task. That's why we can't force this on them. We have to be patient, and wait for them to come to us, no matter how much it hurts." The dark-haired man explained, not fully convinced by his own words, but one of them had to be rational in order to mess this up further.

"I know you're right, but knowing we hurt them and that we can't make it better is so hard. I never wanted to hurt them in the slightest, and now we drove them away. At least, I'm glad I have you in all of this." Satoru confessed, hiding even further in the crook of his lover's neck, hoping this wouldn't last too long.

You couldn't help the small smile that made its way on your face after reading your conversation, but it didn't stay for long. After all, you heard what you heard, and there was no way you could have gotten it wrong in any way, it was pretty clear who they were talking about, so this all misunderstanding thing seemed like a lie to you. But why would they lie about that? What was the point in hiding the truth now that you knew about it? Wouldn't it be easier for them now to get rid of you? Not having to go through the burden of telling you directly to leave and everything?

You were confused, a part of you wanted to believe they were telling the truth, that all of this was a misunderstanding, and your best friends didn't hate you. But at the same time, another part was scared because what if they really did hate you, and they were doing all this just to be able to humiliate you even further, and have the satisfaction to tell you in your face how much they wanted you out of their life. You were kind of used to be the odd one in friend groups, and ultimately being left out, so why would it be different this time?

"You realy should hear them out." A voice suddenly said, making you jump.

"Gosh Kento you scared me." You squeaked, hand on your chest in a futile try to appease your beating heart.

"I'm sorry, but really. I'm not the biggest fan of these two, and I think that's why you decided to come here, but I know they would never hurt you." Namami chuckled softly, sitting down next to you.

"Well, look at that, for once in your life you're wrong." You tearfully laughed.

"I've been wrong a lot of times in my life, but not on that. I promise you, they would never intentionally hurt you, especially not with their words." Your blonde-haired friend affirmed, and the look in his eyes told you there was no convincing him otherwise, almost as if he knew something you didn't.

"I don't know, I need time, I don't think I can face them yet." You explained, curling into a ball next to him.

"Take all the time you need." He simply replied, petting your hair as if to comfort the crying child you were. And for now it's all you needed, some time and a comforting friend, you would deal with all of this later, maybe.

oki here it is!! sorry im not quite satisfied with this part, i wanted to make it longer and have them maybe meet to talk it out but i also didn't know if it was the mood of this part or not... also, yes, don't worry there will be a part 4! part 4 here!!

[ordowrites]

thighs and garters

...or idk what to call this

cw: mdni, mild not sfw, kaeya is a thigh guy, some teasing, established relationship, reader is not the traveler but has a Vision, some oral fixation, afab!reader, pet names ("darling", "sweetheart", "princess", "love", "precious"), fade to black. this has been living in my head rent free for a week.

blank blogs and minors do not interact. do not repost elsewhere.

The audacity you have for laying on his couch, in nothing but some night shirt that barely covers your plump ass and with matching socks that go up to your thighs, gently squeezing the skin there. What's worse is that you keep playing with the pen in your mouth absent-mindedly as you work on whatever paper is in front of you, brows furrowed and lips turned into a deep frown.

You're quite beautiful when you're focused, Kaeya thinks as he watches you for a moment, shifting slightly to hide the growing erection in his pants. He can't leave for work like this, flustered because the sight of you entices him. (He wonders what you would do if he replaced that pen with his-)

Kaeya shakes his head. Not today - he has to be on time today because the Traveler is meeting him and the Acting Grand Master today, and if he starts now, who knows how long it would take? Well, a quicky might be possible but Kaeya loves to take his time with you because watching you unravel so desperately is his favorite past time.

His eyes continue to stare at the skin that is hugged by your socks, his thoughts wondering how nice the soft flesh might feel beneath his fingers.

"Captain?" Even more audacious to give him a lopsided grin as you address him formally.

"Why 'Captain'? Are we not dating, my love?" Kaeya inquires as he finally steps into the threshold, into your space as he towers over the couch. The pen is back to your lips and he swallows.

"I tried calling your name already," you say as you glance back down. "You've been staring awhile. Don't you have somewhere important to be?" The soft swish of your socks rubbing together as you swing your legs slightly draws him back. Kaeya thinks it'd be more fun to part those damn legs, and leave bruises where he can.

"Well, how can I not stare at my lovely princess? Always looking so beautiful and ravishing in the morning sun." Kaeya asks with a soft chuckle. "Do you not have work today?"

"Nope! After yesterday, I was told to take the day off." You shrug. "I'll be back in the field tomorrow though. What time do you think you'll be home?"

Kaeya sits at the edge of the couch, hoping this is excusable enough to just touch you. His hand accidentally lands on the plush of your butt. He thinks he sees you grin a bit.

"Probably not until the evening. Do I need to pick anything up after work?" He subtly slides his hand further down. "Perhaps I could just take a day, after all, I can't stand the idea of my sweet darling being home alone and sad all day."

You giggle a bit. "Well, I'm sure Acting Grandmaster Jean would find it acceptable." His hand slides beneath your pajama shirt, and oh -

You're not wearing underwear.

You tease.

Kaeya considers his options - he could go to work and let you be on your own, as a revenge for teasing him though it wouldn't be much revenge if you're capable of getting yourself off, or he could stay and indulge what you are offering. He runs his thumb gently along your wet slit, watching as your eyes close in mild pleasure, but that grin is still on your face.

"Mm, precious, you make me make some difficult decisions, you know?"

"Do I? It seems you do this to yourself, Kaeya."

He lets out a soft breath, smiling a bit. Oh how he adores you - you know how to innocently push his buttons and make him long and make him want. Kaeya pulls you into a soft kiss.

"You're lucky I'm feeling quite nice after yesterdays news, sweetheart," he tells you as he slowly strips himself from his uniform. Kaeya loves the way you look at him - it makes him feel more confident in himself than he'd ever really admit. And more loved, too. "I considered leaving you here, on edge, until I returned but I think being home with you today takes precedence."

His breath ghosts your ear and you shudder as he presses himself against you.

"So be a good girl for me, yeah?"

He feels like he's looking into a mirror when you smirk at him, the triumphant look on your face tells him everything he needs to know about the thoughts running through your head.

"I don't know what you mean, Kaeya, I'm always a good girl for you."

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I've been going to thousands of interviews the last few days and today I have one more, maybe I'll get it this time. However, I was wondering what if Yuu were to ask for tips for Octotrio? Then this was born, this is super simple but I hope y'all like it!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warning: Yandere content, naive darling, isolation mention. Otherwise this is super silly.

"Should I bring my resume?" You asked Azul, eyes filled with curiosity.

You had your first interview scheduled to today but was ensure what to say or how to act. So of course you asked your best friend how to do things since he was Mostro Lounge's owner.

"Should I, like, shake their hand? But what if they noticed how my palms are sweaty? What if I stutter?" You were anxious. The job was good so you wanted to get it. And while you listed any and every horrible thing that could happen, Azul was smirking internally.

It was the same smile he smiled when he was about to trap his prey. He looked at Jade and Floyd who were wearing smiles that matched his. Then he turned to you, calmly appeasing you by holding your hand. In other times he would had blush for sure, but he had grown used to affection when it came to you.

"My pearl, you don't need to bring a resume, I can assure that they already have all your information, right Jade?"

The mentioned eel nodded, adding. "Plus sweaty hands means a worker has a strong hand and therefore are very trustworthy. You don't have to worry if you're too strong or too weak."

Floyd giggled mischievously, winking his eyes at you. "Best part is that you can wear your most comfy clothes, ah~"

"You're sure?" Floyd nodded. Then you also smiled. "Great then I'm going to wear my baggy shirts and some pants."

Deciding you had enough, you kissed Azul's cheek then Jade and Floyd too, leaving Azul's office as you had to prepare and leave for the interview. Unbeknownst to you the trio high fived between them.

"We don't have any openings for shrimp?" Floyd asked his brother, kicking his feet at the prospect of working with you. "I know I squeezed an annoying big the other who quit."

Azul pondered then smiled. "Of course, we have some openings for waiters, kitchen helpers, but this requires them to interact with a lot of people. Yuu should become my assistant instead."

Jade rolled his eyes. "You just want them for yourself."

It was true, Azul couldn't deny it. Not that he needed because his tweels also did want you all to themselves. The annoying guys, they were! Azul smiled.

"Well can you judge me?"

Nobody answered. Instead they think about you, about how you're going to fail your interview, about how sad you're gonna get and how they gonna comfort you.

[ramhaiba]

All I need is you (Yandere Kenma x Reader x Yandere Kuroo)

Chapter One

No warning in this chapter however MINORS DO NOT INTERACT SERIES TW: Gore, Stalking, Sexual themes, major character death

You hugged your dear friend, Hinata, as closely as possible, this was the last time you were going to see him before you moved. "Y/n, c'mon, you'll make new friends!" he chuckled, rubbing your back, you only knew he has kept an optimistic appearance because he couldn't bear to see you sad. You always liked that about Hinata. "I don't want to make new friends. I want to stay here!" you mumbled as Hinata pulled away, dusting your light-colored sweater.

"I know.." Hinata responded, his lips curled into his smile but you could still tell deep down in his heart, he would miss you. You never wanted to leave that bus station, you rather run away with Hinata and graduate at Karasuno. There were so many memories you could have made at Miyagi Prefecture but your mother urged you to move to Tokyo. You didn't quite hate her for that but it did break your heart the second you realized all of your possessions were packed into cardboard boxes.

You'll never make friends as you had in Karasuno! You completely forgot how the entire Karsasuno's volleyball team even became your friend. What are you going to do without Hinata?

Hinata's hand curled on your cheek, "hey, don't worry! Just look for Kenma and tell him you know me. Kenma will take care of you for me, I promise! " Hinata uttered. You blinked, holding back your tears, "okay..promise you'll visit me" you mumbled. Hinata chuckled, tilting his head, "of course, I'll visit you the second I can" he announced.

Y/n was a first-year, she had just recently transferred from Karasuno to Nekoma. She had no idea what to expect. She just remembers her old friend from Karauno, Hinata, telling her "don't worry Y/n! You can tell Kenma you know me and he'll be nice to you!"If only she knew the type of person Kenma truly was.

"Y/n! The bus is here" your mother called, lightly tugging on the sleeve of your sweater. "O-oh..goodbye Shoyo" you sighed, a pout growing on your lips. "Don't say goodbye, I'm always here for ya. So, don't act like you're never going to see me again!" Hinata urged, punching your shoulder, playfully. You knew he was right but it didn't lift the aching feeling in your heart. You took a deep breath as you stepped foot on your bus, quickly glancing at Hinata, he kept the same big grin he had when he first met you, "I'll see you later, Shoyo! "You announced. "I'll see you later, Y/n!" Hinata chuckled.

----

You walked into the classroom. Everyone had a seat, beside you. You stood in front of the class. "You must be the new student, Y/n? Will you like to introduce yourself to the class?" your teacher said, behind his desk. You responded to him with a nod, it'd be good for you to introduce yourself, especially when you transferred in the middle of the semester.

"Hello, My name is Y/n L/n. I transferred here from Karasuno. I- uh look forward to working with you all" You announced, fiddling your thumbs together from behind your back. You heard whispers from the back of the classroom, instantly spiking your anxiety.

"Karasuno is so far"

"She looks weird"

"Her skirt is way too short"

"God, I hope she doesn't sit next to us"

"Is something wrong, Y/n?" The teacher said. You snapped out of it. It was just your imagination tricking you, god you were so damn nervous... "Nothing, sorry," you said. Your teacher gave you a quick smile and then searched the room for a seat. "Sit next to Lev, Lev stand up,'' The teacher said.

Then a silver-haired, green eye, extremely tall boy stood up. He looks scary, he might have been the tallest guy you have ever seen, was this kid even a first year?

You quickly took a seat next to him, not wanting any more eyes to be on you. The teacher started his lecture.

"Pssssh"

You looked to your left. Lev was trying to talk to you.

"Yes?" you whispered

"You're from Karasuno right?" Lev asked

You nodded. Lev grinned. He looked a lot less scary with such a wonderful smile.

"Do you know Hinata?" Lev asked

You eagerly nodded your head, excited to hear Hinata's name.

"Do I know him? He's my best friend" you whispered. Lev chuckled, he had a kind of laughter, it made you feel safer and less intimidated by his appearance.

"Do you know Kenma?" You asked. Lev answered your question with a nod.

"Yeah, He's on the same volleyball team as me," Lev murmured, covering his mouth from the teacher's perspective.

"Oh um.." you stuttered, anxious about what to say to him next. Would it be weird for you to ask to be introduced to Kenma? I mean you just met Lev five seconds ago...

"Do you want to Come by volleyball practice with me?" Lev asked, casually, Oh, thank god he asked. "Sure!" you whispered, a bit too loudly.

"QUIET DOWN IN THE BACK " your teacher announced, his eyebrows furrowing. Lev held back his snicker, his cheeks swelling. "Meet me there at 5" he whispered, keeping his head faced in the front to cause less suspicion.

You stood in front of the gym, it was a bit bigger than Karasuno's gym and maybe slightly older than Karasuno's gym. You looked around, searching for the grey-haired student, unable to catch him in your eye view, you started getting anxious.

Where is he? Oh god, he thinks you're a dork and left you here. You should leave. You tried to walk away but you heard something approaching you.

"Y/N! " Lev yelled, running up to you. "Oh hi, um I'm here," you said. Wow smooth, Y/n...

Lev grinned, "why didn't you go inside? Everyone is here already" Lev asked. "Oh they are-?" you said. You idiot, the doors were opened... Oh god just transfer to another school.

You walked into the court with Lev next to you.

"Oi Titan, who did you bring?" Said a short boy, with brown hair, his height reminded you of Noya, but you chose not to mention anything about it.

"I brought my new classmate, Y/n! They were from Karasuno" Lev said, a big grin on his face as if he was proud he brought a new person to introduce to his upperclassmen. "Huh? Karasuno? Oh- I'm Yaku, a third-year" Said the boy. "I'm Y/n L/n," you responded, smiling because you felt you'd look friendly.

"Yaku, do you know where Kenma is?" Lev asked, stretching his long arms.

"Hmm, I think he's with Kuroo, in front of the locker room," Yaku said, pointing. Lev gave Yaku a thumbs up. Lev placed one of his hands behind your back as he guided you towards a pair of upperclassmen.

One had dyed blonde hair, he looked like he definitely didn't want to be there, he was shorter than the person he was talking to, he strangely reminded you of a cat. The other boy had dark hair, was much more muscular and taller than the other boy, and had hair covering one of his eyes.

"Kenmmaaaa" Lev sang, swinging his arms up and down. The blonde boy snapped his head towards you and Lev.

"What do you want," he asked. His voice was so.. Quiet and calm. It didn't seem like he was too fond of Lev, it didn't look like he was too fond of anyone, to be honest.

"I want you to meet someone," Lev said, less confident. Kenma's eyes focused on you, he was clearly annoyed, his glance was so intimidating that you could basically melt by a single stare.

"Why," he asked, annoyed. You looked at Lev and Lev looked back at you. "I HEAR YAKU CALLING ME," Lev announced, quickly dashing away and leaving you to fend for yourself The dark-haired boy put a hand on Kenma's shoulder. "Kenma, don't be mean. She's a cute girl" The boy said. Kenma rolled his eyes.

"What does the 'cute girl' want," Kenma asked.

"I-oh- I'm from Karasuno- "You said.

"Karasuno?You think she knows Chibi-chan?" The dark-haired boy asked, leaning on the shorter boy's shoulder, Kenma clearly didn't like the physical touch.

"Do you mean Hinata? Yeah! He actually told me to meet up with Kenma." you said.

Kenma sighed. "Since Shoyo likes you... I guess I can try to like you too... I'm Kenma Kozume. You can just call me Kenma" Kenma said. "And I'm Tetsurou Kuroo, you could stick with us, " The dark-haired boy said. "Thanks, let's have a good year together, alright!" you beamed, happy you were able to introduce yourself to kind, friendly people. From that moment, they seemed like nice guys who'd introduce you to your grandma. Little did you know... They were capable of some much worse. 

Masterlist

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 7 . Truth (2)

a/n: double update this week (I'll upload another chapter tom) to lament over my fever getting higher lol (I'm actually procrastinating my school works)

tags: frustrated rosalyn, again abuse as the norm, cursing, detrimental thoughts and ways of living, unhealthy coping mechanisms and trauma responses

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist prev . next

Rosalyn is someone who threw away her royal position to pursue her dreams of being a mage.

A decision that removed her from her family.

The mage thinks that she would be sad by this if it wasn’t for the fact that she immediately found a new family to be with.

It's amazing if you ask her. It was as if the gods saw that she needed someone to trust after almost being killed and gave it to her in the form of a socially awkward swordsman.

And then almost right after she put her trust in Choi Han, she gained a little brother named Lock.

From there it spiralled. She met Cale and all the other people under him. She got the support she needed to make her dreams come true. On top of that, her relationship with her blood relatives is still good.

Overall it was nice. Especially when Cale seems to keep making friends everywhere and expanding this family-esc circle they have.

That was why when Cale brought another person home Rosalyn thought it would be the same thing. Thought that in a few days' time, that person would be part of their group, their family.

Well in a way they were.

Rosalyn has come to see _____ as her younger sibling, the same way she views Lock. She has taken it upon herself to help the healer acclimatize to their new group and environment in general.

However, every time Rosalyn thinks she’s making progress, _____ seems to go back into their shell.

At first, the woman thought they were just socially awkward. Perhaps shaken because their family literally just threw them to their death.

Her first mistake was assuming it was as trivial as that.

Her second mistake was not getting the full story.

If she had done that then maybe she wouldn’t be this shocked so early in the morning.

Well in her defence she was expecting Cale to talk about some sort of plan for when they meet the dragon. Why else would he gather the group this early right before they are set to travel to the dragon’s lair?

Apparently not.

As soon as everyone has settled Cale brought to everyone’s attention that they didn’t know how _____’s powers work.

This made Rosalyn confused. Because quite frankly what does this have to do with… well anything?

But oh god, the more _____ explains their abilities the more she understood why this has to be said now.

This should have been explained way earlier. Because what do they mean that _____ essentially absorbs their patients' wounds?

It made the mage look back at all the people the Medicus had healed. All the sickness and wounds they had to absorb.

And shit.

She remembered that _____ has been doing this since they were 9 years old. Maybe even earlier as she discovered that the famous story of their adoption is fabricated.

Rosalyn may have only known _____ for a short while, but that’s her little sibling goddammit.

A sibling she admires because of how helpful and selfless they are. Traits they possess that Rosalyn is now starting to resent.

The redhead shot a pointed look at the other redhead in the room. A look that says Rosalyn wants her questions answered. Cale responded with another eye contact that seemed to say “Later”.

“Just what-”

Cale put his hand up to stop Rosalyn from speaking. Everyone was still in the room minus _____. The redhead had sent them out as they hadn’t finished packing their things yet.

“To put it shortly, I need you all to keep an eye on _____.”

The man goes on to explain how the healer kind of lacks… common sense, for lack of a better term. It has something to do with how they were brought up. 

“We don’t need to look after them like a child. Just make sure they won’t go overboard using their abilities. No guarding them like a hound either.”

It's a no-brainer that the last part was for the visibly enraged Choi Han. He was still visibly enraged but nodded as he understood why Cale didn't want the healer to have guards as of now.

Rosalyn is sure that Choi Han is going to be overprotective of _____ in some way. Not that she blames him.

Cale went to stand up, signifying that the meeting was over. The rest followed and started filing out of the room. 

Everyone except Rosalyn.

She has questions and she’s going to get answers.

“Young master, how long have you known?”

“Since last night.”

“Were they deliberately hiding it?”

“No, they just didn’t think they could bring it up when no one was asking.”

“How are we supposed to- haaa”

“Blame their shitty family.”

On their way to the dragon’s lair, Rosalyn had a lot on her mind. Lots of puzzle pieces to put together.

Now that Rosalyn knows the full story everything started to make sense.

Made her realize just how hurt her sibling had been.

Just how much they suffered before Cale met them.

It made Rosalyn look back to some of the habits she noticed _____ has. Like how they almost seem apprehensive to talk to people in authority. How their hands and voice tremble when they thought they made a mistake. How they are so intent on healing everyone and low-key seem scared if a person’s condition is out of their jurisdiction.

How they take everything with apprehension. Like they can’t believe that they are being given things. Even when those things are basic necessities like a good plate of food. How they teared up when Raon gave them that red teddy bear from the night market. How apparently that was the first toy– no, the first thing, that they have ever received in their entire life for free. The first gift they get to indulge in.

How they are too independent for Rosalyn’s liking. How they always insist that the servants have better things to do than assist them. How they refuse to get treated when sick or injured despite them treating everyone else.

How they never speak unless spoken to first. How they will literally just stand there, bleeding and not saying a word unless they are given some sort of permission. This one frustrates Rosalyn so much. Not only does she want to hear more from the healer, but she also thinks they have so many good ideas. Before she let it go she thought they were shy, but that’s slowly going to change from now on.

How even when they were suffering from nightmares they were silent. How on one of those nights they looked more scared that Rosalyn saw them being vulnerable, as if it's a sin to have nightmares. To be vulnerable and lean on others. How on that night Rosalyn had to explain that there’s nothing wrong with asking for help after such things. How _____ nodded but seemed apprehensive. How Rosalyn knew that after that night they still suffered silently. Merely holding the mage’s hand as solace and comfort on the rare nights the healer allows themself to embrace the help presented to them.

How Rosalyn found out now that it was because _____ have been taught that since they don’t scar then they must not have pain. Since they only get a percentage of their patient’s pain then it would be arrogant and privileged of them to complain.

How they–

How–

Fuck.

Rosalyn is going to get revenge for _____. 

She’s going to make sure she gets it done one way or another.

a/n at the end: i wasn't quite sure how to get the point across that rosalyn was angry and frustrated beyond belief so I made her curse as she isn't really someone who's portrayed to curse a lot

[memoria-99]

IkePri routes short comments and personal rankings

* All of these are my personal thoughts.

1st Gilbert

Traumatized villain with death wish. Not a fun route, relatively heavy plots, twisted romance, but a good "villain" route. Emma has real great mentality and very brave, loved how she handled the situation and the relationship. Also the best adaptation of "Beauty and the Beast" theme.

2nd Clavis (Tie)

Four-dimensional troublemaker. The first half was funny thanks to all sorts of weird events and the second half was interesting to see dealing stuff this guy was secretly doing. I liked the romance and chemistry between the two. Emma was very cool and proactive.

2nd Silvio (Tie)

Sharp tongued, materialistic brat. Endless bickering between the two was overall fun to read and though there were moments that I wanted to punch this guy, eventually grew to like him. Used to wonder why so many people love this brat but I get why. Loved how sassy Emma was too.

3rd Nokto

Sly playboy. I think I like these kind of foxy character. Has a sad past. I liked the route because the guy was very smart and Emma was quite cool. What I didn't like was that the romance seemed to be leaning toward too erotic after the two became official.

4th Yves

Star-crossed tsundere kitty. The guy himself was very cute, and the romance between the two was cute and heartwarming as well. But they are both grown ass adults in their 20s and yet their romance was like that of teens.... why.

5th Chevalier

Coldhearted genius. The second best adaptation of "Beauty and the Beast" theme. I liked the process of Emma taming him. But didn't quite like that the guy has the upperhand still. This was the only route that Emma didn't call her suitor only by given name till the very end, so...

6th Licht

Severely depressed one. I liked the heavy story and realistic romance. But, although he's kind he has almost no self-esteem, is a master of self-deprecation, and his past is seriously dark, making me feel depressed as well. I know he's loved by many, but just not my cup of tea.

7th Leon

Charismatic, good-natured brother type. Typical fairytale prince. Has a sad past, but speaking of past, there're handful who are worse than him here... The most ordinary route. I don't remember much honestly.

8th Keith

Double personality. One is very kind and the other is rather bratty. Whole premise itself was interesting but two are so different... and made the romance look like a weird love triangle.

9th Rio

Loyal doggo who always loves Emma. But the route was kinda disappointing, I think it's only meaningful in a way that his love met a happy ending for once.

10th Sariel

Felt more like a "common route" in other games where romance does not exist. I didn't see much meaningful interaction between the two. At least I liked that Emma did best in her role as Belle in this route, but that's all.

11th Jin

Seriously remember nothing about the route except that it was very boring.

12th Luke

A sleepy bear turned into a crazy bear.

PLUS

1. I love the ways "sinner" LIs are written in this game, including Gilbert and Licht, and how Emma deals with those. Instead of trying to just reassure it's okay don't let that bother you, she's like "I know what you did cannot be forgiven, nothing can change that, but I'll embrace even that part of you and lead you to step forward"

2. I love that in the two bastards' route Emma ended up 'winning' them. In Gilbert's it was mentioned that he's the one who was conquered, and Silvio's he thought that it looks like he's the one with the collar.

[rainybubbles]

Draw me, love me- Soap x reader

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC.)

"Will you ever draw me, Johnny?" 

His eyes fixed on me. With his pencil suspended, he stopped drawing.

"I don't think so, it's merely a pastime," he responded, his tone almost aloof.

"But you've drawn Lizzie, haven't you?"

"That's different."

My lips tightened, my gaze dropping to the ground. A knot of bitterness formed in my throat. If there was one lesson I had gleaned from Johnny, it was that he would never sketch me.

(Never would he love me.)

—-------------------------

-It's quite ironic that our friendship began amidst charcoal and erasers, in a small village lost in Scotland, the only art class for miles around.

-We were the only two students of Madame McGuire, a housewife desperately seeking occupation. Looking back, she was a failed artist. But my parents wanted to cultivate a passion in me, and when my rugby endeavors left me with more broken bones than joy, they finally realized that sports weren't my ally.

-So, at the tender age of 8, I entered that house feeling anxious, and there he was, covered in charcoal up to his nose.

-Seeing him laugh kicked off our sketches.

A stroke of pencil led by questions, followed by a few strokes of erasers as we got to know each other, and slowly our friendship sketch took shape in that decrepit house. Sheet after sheet, our sketches brought us together, his energy was indomitable.

"Hey, will you ever be an artist?" he asked.

It was the first time I was asked the question without disdain. No implication, no 'but think of something else.'

"I don't know," I replied.

That was a lie.

I knew.

I wanted to be, but I didn't dare to dream about it.

"I think you should try; you've got cute pigtails like artists," he said.

"Do all artists have pigtails?" I asked.

"They have quirky hair, my mom says so."

I paused, releasing my marker.

"In that case, my dad can never be one," I admitted sadly.

"Why?" John asked, curious.

"He's bald."

He handed me his favorite marker and resumed his coloring.

"Oh, that's sad for him," he sighed.

"At least he can look like Mr. Clean."

"Is he cool?" he asked.

"...not really," I replied.

"Mine isn't cool either," he said.

"Oh yeah?" I asked.

"When I was born, he left. And now he tries to knock on the door, but my mom won't let him."

"What do you do then?" I asked.

"I threw a bucket of glitter at him," he said.

"Did it work?" I asked.

"Yeah, but now I'm out of glitter for next time," he replied.

"Try charcoal, it stains. Last time, I was covered, and my mom screamed."

"I'll try that," he said.

They were ridiculous sketches, full of stick figures, houses with square windows, and purple-skinned people. But it was our art, our relationship.

_______________________

Slowly, during high school, I found myself gravitating towards the art club, which was slightly larger than Madame McGuire's classes, with a modest increase from one classmate to three. Admittedly, a four-person club crammed into the janitor's closet didn't boast much, but it held a special place in my heart.

Deep down, I harbored a hope that John would join us.

Yet, he opted for the rugby club, and gradually, we drifted apart. While my sketches remained monochrome, his days overflowed with vibrant social interactions.

I felt like a dull canvas, yearning for a splash of color. Meanwhile, he effortlessly embodied a lively watercolor.

Attempts to reconnect faltered. Our conversations in the hallway, the offering of sketchbooks, the inquiry about his artistic pursuits—all met with fleeting gestures, mere nods. In hindsight, I should have recognized my insignificance compared to his bustling world.

Thus, I embarked on a solitary journey from sketches to hues.

It was a daunting, lonely, and unattractive endeavor.

Progress eluded me.

My phone remained silent, notifications reduced to mindless spam, and evenings lingered in the quiet company of my parents.

Weekends became my sanctuary for artistic expression, while weekdays served as a means to evade familial interactions. The cycle persisted.

I found myself trapped in a cycle of sketching, erasing, and doodling, endlessly switching between pencils in a desperate attempt to breathe life into my ideas. Meanwhile, he effortlessly thrived, seamlessly integrated into his vibrant world.

I resented him.

(I resented myself.)

__________________________________

In our second year, Johnny left the rugby club.

No one quite knew why the golden boy, the one so highly touted to future recruiters, would do such a thing, but he did.

That was Johnny now.

No longer the tentative, hesitant charcoal sketch, but a permanent ink drawing.

So, one evening, when I caught sight of his silhouette at the art club, I realized he was back for good.

I didn't know how to take the news.

Embarrassed, I tucked my sketchbook under my arm.

"John," I greeted as I settled in.

"I wanted to apologize, y/n I- I didn't behave well."

"No, no. You've evolved, and that's normal, we can't always stay with the same people."

That's what I kept telling myself.

Adults say stuff like that.

My mom says it when my dad comes home too late, ignoring the scent of perfume on his jacket and the divorce papers in the drawer.

"But still, I missed you. I loved making you laugh and our moments together, and I let all that get to my head."

"...okay," I finally said.

Johnny smiled and handed me a blank page.

"For a fresh start."

"It's your history evaluation, but I appreciate the metaphor."

He apologized and offered another sheet.

That evening, I could finally sketch in peace, with him standing behind me, ink in hand.

Sure, I remained a hesitant pencil, but at least Johnny was there to catch every one of my missed strokes.

Finally back, I felt relieved.

_____________________________

In our final year, something shifted.

Johnny abruptly traded his black ink for bold strokes of red oil paint.

Nothing but red.

His once vibrant gaze darkened, leaving me puzzled by the change.

His aspirations for college faded into whispers, his focus elsewhere, perhaps lost in that obsessive red.

"You're painting a lot in red these days."

"It's my preference."

"Why not... try something else?"

"Are you really the one suggesting that to me?"

I hesitated, unsure of what more to add.

Sure, I remained within the comfortable confines of our village, with pencils, sketches, good grades, the compliant, quiet person, destined for college, but—

I knew.

My life wasn't a venture but a dreary routine.

Yet, why did he feel the need to emphasize it? To dismiss my art like that, to belittle it?

Tears threatened to spill, and I bit down on my lip.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that. I—things have changed."

"You said that last time too."

"But it's true, I— I'm enlisting, y/n."

Only later did I discover the passing of his military uncle. That's what had altered everything. Johnny sought to shield others, to mold his painting into a formidable barrier.

"I understand."

"Is that all you have to say?"

"Would you prefer I voice my thoughts? About turning young lives into cannon fodder for people seated in diplomatic chairs? It's not wise, John."

"Y/n, it's not—"

"We don't see eye to eye on this, John. And we never will. So, best of luck, I suppose."

"Thank you."

It marked the first time I expressed my opinion without trembling, without yielding, without erasing it.

For once, I had wielded black ink too.

_________________________

Madame McGuire threw a massive party, a couple of years after we graduated. John kept texting me for New Year's, Christmas, and my birthday. I replied, and that was about it. Everything turned cold after he left. Despite the confidence I gained, I struggled to channel it into my drawings, which were buried at the bottom of my drawers beneath my college coursework. I had given up on art.

"Hey, y/n."

Or so I thought. But seeing him standing there, smiling at me, my only thought was to capture him on canvas so I could observe him every day.

"John."

I couldn't finish my sentence before he enveloped me in a hug. His arms had definitely tripled in size, and his hair was styled in a ridiculous egghead cut, a far cry from the mullet he once dreamed of.

"I'm trying to imitate your dad, it seems," he said, referring to his haircut.

"I bet you cried when they shaved it off," I teased.

"Maybe," he grinned.

It was funny; our exchanges seemed fluid again, our pigments blending once more in the waters of friendship.

"Are you... doing okay?"

Awkward.

He had a smile on his face, he hugged me, and yet, I knew the answer.

"I- yeah," he replied uncomfortably.

Maybe not so fluid after all.

"Are you still doing art? I mean, I heard someone from our village got into an art college on a scholarship, and it has to be you."

My smile faded.

No.

In reality, in high school, you were the art prodigy.

One stroke and everyone praised you, one hand movement and everyone was in awe.

But as you grow older, you're not alone anymore. You're not interesting anymore.

You're just an artist among hundreds of others.

I observed him, wanting to lie, to throw pigments in his eyes, to force-feed him acrylics as lies, but—

"No, y/n isn't frivolous, they chose a history degree," my father interjected.

Frivolous.

What burned with desire, with passion for a decade, the thousands of pages in my drawers, of pencils, of hours spent studying, of sleepless nights smiling.

My father summed it up in one word in the harsh reality of the working world.

A sheepish smile appeared on John's face.

"But you loved it," he said.

"Not so much anymore," I lied.

Because how do you admit to cowardly abandoning your only reason for living?

My heart clenched, my eyes avoided his gaze.

John was like me; he knew what art was, what it meant to be an artist.

I felt his hands on my shoulder.

My heart trembled, scared of the passion John could reignite.

"I refuse to believe that," he said.

"John."

"I kept going, you know, I— I still draw."

"Really?"

"In my journal, at least, I draw. If I don't stop, don't you either, y/n, please, promise me."

His promise was there, my feet at the edge of this canvas of friendship.

And without too much thought, I jumped right in.

"Okay."

________________________________

He sent me his sketches whenever he could. Forced to stick with pencil, his art lost its vibrancy. So, I compensated by using colors, paint. Slowly, confidence crept in, only to be shattered by doubt. But every day, I sent him a photo. And whenever he could, he complimented my art. I think that's what made me fall.

My art... it was me.

It was the essence of who I was — the part of me that didn't need words, that I could shape and mold into something beautiful. It wasn't about my body or my face. My art was my soul. So, his compliments, slowly, I took them for more. Our late-night conversations, from opposite ends of the world, I cherished them a bit too much. His laughter, the way he said my name, his hugs, everything was... him. He appreciated my art. So, I thought he appreciated me.

(It's false, I knew he didn't)

"You know, right now I'm in a desert."

"You told me that six months ago, John," I chuckled over the phone.

"In a different one."

"You should have been an archaeologist at this rate."

"I thought about it, you know, but no, I don't want to be chased by a mummy."

"I don't think that's likely, John."

"You haven't seen enough movies, y/n."

"Yes, actually."

A silence stretched.

"I'm getting promoted."

"Good for you," I smiled.

But the silence persisted.

"But I want to specialize first."

"...what do you mean?"

"I... I've always been good at math."

"Yes, but you don't kill people with equations, John."

"Yes."

"No, I don't— oh. Oh."

"I want to try bombs."

"So you're telling me you want to become Einstein at 4 a.m. in a desert over the phone?"

"My mom would have a fit, and I wanted your opinion."

"No, you don't want that, John, and you know it."

He didn't say a word before finally speaking.

"...it's true, I just needed to talk about it."

I was angry. Why tell me? I hated his job, his sacrifice.

"Damn it, human cannon fodder exploding, you—"

I stopped myself. John had made his choice, no matter my arguments. I was his friend.

"Are you happy?"

"Yes. Really."

"Then... go ahead," I murmured, already regretting it.

"Thank you, y/n."

Suddenly, I wanted to shove my sketches down his throat. To convince him. Being a simple soldier meant he remained accessible, but a promotion... A promotion left me alone, surrounded by his sketches of battles and soldiers.

__________________________________

"Sergeant Soap, looking ridiculous," I smiled.

In his uniform, he had just returned from the ceremony. His family couldn't make it, much to his mother's dismay, who had been calling every five minutes to apologize and had asked me for a hundred photos of her son in uniform.

"Soap is cool."

"Soap? Nah."

He grinned, beer in hand in my apartment.

"You must be charming a lot of people in uniform like that," I joked.

"I admit to my little success," he joked back. "But... there's one, at the moment."

"Thomas?"

"How did you know?" he exclaimed, sitting up.

I laughed.

"You send me sketches of him non-stop, it's your trademark, McTavish. You sketch the people you like."

"...in more ways than one," he added with a smirk.

"Ewww!"

He continued his story about Thomas, our laughter fading in my apartment.

Maybe at that moment, I should have remembered that John had never drawn me.

______________________________

In reality, experiencing unrequited love is quite peaceful.

Nothing pulls you in, life just goes on.

Everything feels dull.

And suddenly, you catch sight of your crush and everything changes.

Then everything goes back to normal.

After Thomas, I caught sight of the sketches of Valentine, Ymir, Julio, Shirley.

Their features all blurred together in my mind, their smiles.

Every evening, I observed myself, searching for a resemblance, hoping to attract him, to be captured by his pencil.

But nothing.

So I continued to sketch him without being sketched in return.

And when I finally asked him the question.

"Will you ever draw me, Johnny?"

"I don't think so, it's just to distract myself," he replied in an almost detached tone.

"But you drew Lizzie, didn't you?"

"That's different."

I understood that he would never love me.

_______________________

- You don't talk to John anymore?

I was at my mother's for the weekend.

In truth, I had stopped sending my sketches (my feelings).

John, on the other hand, continued with his (his friendship).

- Not much anymore. The distance makes it hard, you know?

No, it had never been a challenge for us.

- I see. I... you know, I thought he would help you.

- Help me with what?

- Art.

I paused in the kitchen, setting the bowl on the table before turning to her.

- Mom, it's not—

- I know that—I never said anything. I never opposed your father, but seeing you pursue a history doctorate while every evening, I watched your fingertips, gray with charcoal, I can't help but think what a waste it is.

- Dad has nothing to do with this. I needed a legitimate degree, it's not—

- T/p.

Her voice turned cold.

I met her gaze.

- Stop hiding, please. she murmured, tears in her eyes as she hugged me.

I couldn't move.

- Speak up, address the world. I'm sorry for asking you to remain silent for so long. I should have... I should have spoken up, pushed you further. Go ahead.

It was as if a wave suddenly crashed over me.

I collapsed, tears streaming, into her embrace.

- I'm sorry. I whispered.

I didn't know why I was apologizing.

- It's going to be okay, it's going to be okay. she reassured, tears streaming down her face

Tears flowed, my breathing grew ragged, my nose stuffed, my vision blurred. I felt numb. Dissolving into her arms, all I could do was sob.

- I thought I could handle it. I murmured.

Pretend.

Pretend to be happy in a career I don't want.

Pretend to be happy when he doesn't love me.

Pretend to be happy when I'm not there mentally.

_____________________

Three years had flown by.

Sketching was no longer just a step; I dove in without hesitation. It had been tough—financially, socially. I had no connections in the field, retreating back to my parents' home. Rejection after rejection, unpaid internships barely covering my food expenses. Student loans weighed heavily on my shoulders. The other students seemed younger, more talented. But I held onto my diploma, earned through hard work, even if it meant slaving away at a fast-food joint. I kept applying, day in and day out, until one day, I landed a job as an assistant for a small comic book company.

Back in the village for Christmas, I had done the grocery shopping my mother asked for.

"John," I greeted him, having lost touch with him. In fact, I had blocked him. I needed to move forward. So, I sent him a message, asking him not to contact me anymore because I didn't want that friendship anymore. It was pathetic, I know. I was a jerk. But I needed it, strangely.

"You... you look radiant," he remarked.

"Thank you," I replied.

"I... your message, that—"

"I'm sorry. I needed space at that time. I shouldn't have... done that like that," I apologized.

"I see," he said.

"Still... Sergeant?" I asked, noting his mullet.

"Yeah, I... I'm still drawing," he replied.

"I see, that's cool. I... I'm full-time into it now," I admitted.

His eyes widened. "Damn, you made it!"

"I... it's an assistant job for an adult comic, calm down," I clarified.

"Still, you make a living out of it," he pointed out.

"You could say that, yeah," I said with a smile.

"Can I hug you?" he asked.

I couldn't answer before he did. Instantly, I knew I was back to having a crush on him. This man who always loved my stick figures, smiling and loving. His scent was like paint fumes, comforting yet toxic.

"I missed you," he said.

"You too," I admitted, stepping back.

The silence returned. I don't know why I ended up admitting that. I guess I was trying to fill the void. To panic about the silence. So, this confession slipped out stealthily from my lips, hoping to break the silence.

"I loved you, you know," I confessed.

"I knew," he replied.

Damn joke. I bit my lip when I saw him rummaging in his bag. A sketchbook, barely presentable, lay there, the year of our high school was written on it.

"This... I never showed you because we weren't talking during that year, but yeah, you... you were my muse," he explained.

I eagerly opened the sketchbook. And there they were. Sketch after sketch, painting after painting of me. Smiling, in the hallways, in class, angry, sometimes from memory. There was... only me. And John drew people he loved.

"Damn irony, huh. We don't love each other at the same time. It's... sad," I murmured.

"Oh well, you know... art is timeless, right?" he tried to lighten the mood.

I furrowed my brows.

"Tell that to the art restorers who bust their ass on Leonardo da Vinci's paintings," I retorted.

"Y/n, I'm not talking about that," he clarified.

My eyes met his.

"I... I don't know if this is a good idea," I admitted.

"I think it is," he said.

"John, I—"

"I can love hard enough for both of us, give me a chance. Let me draw you again," he pleaded.

"What if... it fails?" I voiced my fear.

"Then it fails, but I'm a pro at bombs, and you're one, so no risk," he said with a wink.

A silence settled.

"...that was horrible flirting," I finally said, breaking the silence.

"It worked, didn't it?" he replied with a smile.

"Okay," I murmured, feeling a glimmer of hope.

And for once, that evening, our two faces appeared at the same time in our sketchbooks.

If you want more : my masterlist

[allastoredeer]

Sorry for asking but do you happen to have any bottom Alastor radioapple fics to suggest? I can’t find any 😭

Don't be sorry! I haven't been reading a ton of fics recently, but I can definitely send you the ones I have! Now that I have a functioning phone, I can do more fanfic reading and, believe me, I have a TON of bottom!Alastor fics saved. Maybe I'll do a weekly fic round-up and post some of the fics I've read that are just 😩👌

But as for the ones that I do have:

(NOTE: Remember to check all of the tags yourself, some of these are more explicit and darker than others)

Hounded by Syntaxeme

Basically, it's Halloween in Hell and Alastor uses his magic to summon a few monsters to cause a little mischief, but accidentally summons Hellhounds instead. Horny Hellhounds. Smut ensues.

It's doesn't have any of your typical Hazbin ships, but it was based off of an audio-Halloween thing someone made a few years back. The fic has the link to that in their notes as well, if you want to give that a listen to.

Decadent Agony by Echowraith

Alastor thinks Vox is going to try and slip him a love/lust potion, and in the case that he succeeds, Alastor doesn't want his virginity taken by him. So, in an effort to control the situation, he asks Husk to take his virginity instead.

These two have such a messy and complicated relationship, and I LOVE it. Very much enjoyed this fic and how it handled Alastor's aro-aceness.

With a Coffee and a Caress by winterveritas

4 times Lucifer touches Alastor, and 1 time Alastor touches him back. God, I love this fic SO much. The writing, the characterization, the build-up, the smut, it's all so, SO good. It's definitely one of my favorites at the moment. Also, we get some fantastic scenes with Alastor's shadow interacting with Lucifer :3

Together in My Pocket by Keelywolfe

Lucifer fucks Alastor in his big King-of-Hell demon form O.O nuff' said.

A Poison for Lust by MatcHoMetriC

Zestial is curious about how potent and dangerous the Vee's new love potion is, and asks Alastor to help him out. Such a fucking treat considering how little Alastor/Zestial content there is out there 😩

601 by ChildishSadism

Vox possesses a priest and Alastor possesses a nun. What else need I say?

A Failure of Business Negotiations by Drowsy_Salamander

Alastor is curious about what the big hype is about sex and enlists Vox to help him out, but, of course, things get sad and complicated >:3 the smut is more implied than explicit, but I still really enjoyed it and Alastor's aro-aceness and his thoughts on sex.

Unhealthy Attachments by KeelyWolfe

Lucifer wonders what Alastor gets out of having sex with him, but the answer he gets is...well, I guess that's for you to read and find out 😈

To Never Let You Go by Anonymous

Dark fic about a darker, more sinister Lucifer baby-trapping Alastor.

And, of course

Lucifer and His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Relationship by Keelywolfe (Keelywolfe shows up quite a bit in this list LOL)

This isn't so much a single fic as it is a series. But it's got some fantastic scenes, really funny moments, and AMAZING smut. Love their bottom!Alastor stuff and I've really been enjoying the progression of the series as I've been catching up. Some really good food right here.

Annnd, that's all I got at the moment. But, hey, asks me again in a week and I might have more ;) Enjoy these in the meantime!!

[shatcey]

1st anniversary (Victor)

William Victor Victor epilogue Liam Liam epilogue

In this part of the event, you could choose between William, Victor, Elbert, Alfons and Roger. I didn't even consider the latter (sorry… I just don't like big guys, not my type, as I recently realized. I'm very slow). But everyone else… It's very tempting. And the idea of saving the story was also extremely tempting. And the fact that I'll probably never read it again won't stop me. It is saved, and I can re-read it at any time… That's all that matters.

So, I chose William with both endings because… why not. And I couldn't choose another one. I didn't want to waste resources on this part of the event, because on the second one will be Ellis AND Jude and I want them both. I really did said that.

After William's story, I got a little worried. I don't wanna think about depressing and upsetting things on the anniversary. So… Elbert somehow disappeared. And Alfie… I can't even find the strength to start his route, how can I choose his event?.. So, the logical conclusion led me to Victor.

It was an absolutely logical decision. Not the birdcage you get for completing the premium ending… And, of course, not the opportunity to buy his epilogue. I'm still considering this option…

So...

If in Will's story was many reminiscences from the prologue, then Victor's story goes even further… There are a lot of reminiscences not only from the prologue, but also from previous events.

Victor once again asks William to decide whether Kate is suitable for this job or not, because… he cannot decide for himself. But William, smiling slyly, turned him down.

Right... he already did it ones. Your turn!

Victor goes to his room, remembering why he hired Kate in the first place.

At that moment, Kate noticed Victor and approached him. She was looking for him to gave her report. And suddenly…

Kate was surprised at first, and he really thought he had been rejected. But she explained that he had never asked her out before… This is the first time. When she gladly agreed and offered to visit some other place. They went to the train.

Victor continues to think that to choose and silence are becoming quite unsettling. Kate starts talking about boys, just to break the ice. Vic thinks they don't know much about each other outside of work.

At the next station, Vic open the window and explain to Kate that if you do so, a flower seller will approach them. So he did. Vic asks what her favorite flower is.

I'm really curious what happened to these flowers? Because… they run around all day, and no one mentioned flowers after that. And yes, it was very sweet of him. But I remember how annoying it is to carry flowers while you on the date… (exhales) Ok…

So they went to another city, and Kate really enjoyed it so very much.

Vic remembers their interaction at different events

"Erase love"? Now I'm scared...

This is from Luxury Liner event

I think it's from the Black wedding event

And he thinks Kate always wanted to stay by his side. It's clear that the Crown benefits from her presence, but what about Kate? Vic noticed that Kate was having fun and decided to follow suit.

They went down to the city and there was a competition. They are, of course, desided participate. And Vic found something in common with her

They win, probably because they look so dashing, and everyone else is too distracted. He, as usual, shows his trick with a pigeon. I can't separate one from the other anymore.

And after that, they return by train. Kate thanks him for a wonderful day and says she will never forget it. And suddenly she mentioned that Vic doesn't do anything without a reason. He agrees and tells her that he decides to let her stay or release her from work. She suddenly felt very sad when she remembered her life before the crown

She asks to be allowed to stay. She likes this job, she thinks she has a lot to learn from Victor, and then she turns around to leave… The next stop is theirs…

Victor, looking at her back, realised…

I'm getting goosebumps from that line… It's so cute))) And look at his face... he's so pretty here...

He hugs her from behind and tells her that he thinks

Awwww… But no, he ended up saying, "Would you continue to be a fairy teller?". It's a pity. What a wonderful declaration of love it could be.

She happily agrees, and after that they go to the park. She asks him to go on a date without reason next time. He thinks she probably likes him, but he can't afford to get too attached to her.

And I'm not sure about this translation, so I'll show you the original

So… He doesn't want her to become one of the victims of his curse, but he cannot figure out the nature of his feelings for her. Something like that. Correct me if I'm wrong.

I bought his epilogue. But too many story events going at the same time have burned out my brain, and I need time to recover. But I will definitely read it later. It must be very interesting.

About this story. I didn't expect Victor to think so much, considering how easy-going and light headed he seems to be. And at first I was a little worried that this story would turn out to be as dark as Williams'. But Victor is as predictable as the weather, so it's always fun to be around.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🔝 Start page 🔝

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[honey-milk-depresso]

Hey, Honey~ If you were still accepting: The Prompt: Azul And/Or The Tweels interacting with a GN!Reader that overworks themselves to the point of burnout, but will do most anything but admit it? Can be formatted however you feel inspired, HC's, Oneshots, Gen. Interactions, etc ^v^

Congrats on 2.5K and many more ahead~

Heyyy- I'm on my woman day of reckoning for 5 days-

Octavinelle S/o's overworking themselves and doesn't want to admit

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul understands that everyone in life would go through burnout once in their life that even he does so too, but he isn't very keen to see you pushing yourself over the limit almost every day when you have work to do.

"S/o, I suggest you take a break. You've been overworking yourself far too much." "I'm not tired, Azul..." you muttered in response.

Azul frowns a bit. It's insulting if you think he can't see the dark eyebags under your eyes or dry lips through his glasses if you assumed he had "poor sight". He clicks he tongue, dragging your chair to pull you back from your desk.

"H-huh?" "My Pearl, I will not repeat myself again. Take a break, you're seriously tired." "But I'm not!" the dorm leader merely sighs, shaking his head.

"Pearl, please, I'm worried for you." "Don't be."

Azul's face contorted into a mortified expression. "Don't be"?! How can he "don't be" worried about you? You're his precious pearl, his darling s/o! Of course, he would be worried about you! Just as you were about to pull away, he tightened his grip of your chair, and pulls you back. "S/o... how can I not be? I care about you so much... how could you tell me to not care about you?"

The way he said it was genuinely sad, a bit offended that it made you winced. "I'm sorry..." "Oh don't be, I just want you to know I'm here for you," Azul gingerly wrapped his arms around you as he pulled you into his embrace.

He smiled when you immediately hugged him back and melted into his touch almost instantly. "Now, s/o, why not we give you a nice warm bath, hm?" <3

Jade Leech

He knows the feeling of burnout too well; night shifts taken up by him almost all the time, his duties as vice dorm leader have never been easy ones, and on top of all that, he has to keep up with his academic records.

The eel manages it all quite well, but he laments on the inside of how he would have little time to spend with you (and his mushrooms).

So, imagine coming into your room feeling bewildered as he sees you chained to your desk with your back hunched and hair frizzled, seeing you tiredly but furiously doing your work. He's been seeing you like this more and more frequently, and it's slightly mortifying that this has become your norm.

"S/o, I believe it's time for you to take a rest, no?" "It's okay Jade, I'm not tired." Well, that's just a lie. Jade is unimpressed that you think he can't see your obviously burnt-out state just scribbling away words and formulas on worksheets. "It's very obvious you are, s/o." "I swear I'm not!" you insisted, a pout on your face. That's not going to work on the vice dorm, no, no.

"S/o," he bends down, gently whispering into your ear as you blushed at the sudden close contact. "H-huh?!" "If you don't rest," he says, hands gliding down your arms as they finally rested on top of your palms, continuing in a sultry voice, "I wouldn't be so pleased..." You turned to look at him, his face solemn and serious with half lidded eyes staring right back at you with a certain firmness to them. You gulped as he sighs.

"I'm not angry, I'm concerned, my dear. It would seriously pain me to see you in such a miserable state. So please, take a rest, s/o." Your pursed your lips, sighing. "Alright."

Jade smiles softly, as he placed his palm on the small of your back, ushering you to your bed. "I'll make you some tea, wait here for me, alright? Meanwhile, be good and rest in your bed, okay? Fufufu~" <3

Floyd Leech

Floyd can easily tell when he's at the point of burnout and would immediately stop himself from doing so. It's rather surprising for Floyd to know of the dangers of overworking himself. Perhaps he has seen others around him who enter this threshold, or maybe he has experienced it before once and it was just the nastiest feeling he had ever gotten in his life.

Either way, he wasn't all the happy to see you slouched at your desk trying to complete all your work. "Hmm? ~ Shrimpy what are you doing? Is that your homework? Tomorrow's a Saturday, you know, you could just do it tomorrow." "It's not just homework, Floyd. Crowley gave me stuff to do, too."

Floyd frowns at this information. "Well, tell him to wait." "He's the headmaster." "So what? You're already tired, Shrimpy!" "I'm not." The eel huffed, already starting to grow frustrated. Seriously, Shrimpy? You think he can't see your half-dead state? What do you take him for???

Floyd doesn't say anything, he only extends his hand and grabs your chair, swirling you around to face him.

"Hey! What the heck?!" "Shrimpy." You paused. You've never heard him so serious before. "Go. Rest. Now." "I'm seriously not tired, Floyd." You tried to turn away, but the vice grip of Floyd left you futile in trying to turn your chair away, and the glare he sent you left you paralyzed and nervous.

"You should know better than anyone else, Shrimpy. Burnout's a thing you should take seriously and avoid. Otherwise, you'd be in a lot of pain, and I don't want that to happen..." Floyd blushes a little, frowning as he averted his eyes away. Never have you though your rambunctious eel would get serious with you. "I... thank you, Floyd." "So, go sleep."

Floyd scooped you in his arms, carrying you towards your bed as he gently plopped you down, before lying down beside you and wrapping his arms around you in a tight and warm embrace. He giggles, signaling he was back to being your regular ol' Floyd.

"Shrimpy, don't overwork yourself again, okay? Hehehe~" <3

Reblogs help! ^^

[semi-sketchy]

Alright, since I'm at that episode, I'm gonna elaborate on my actual problem with Dark Sonic:

To be honest, I don't think there's anything really wrong with Sonic during the episode. He's angry his friends have been hurt by a villain, so he harnesses the power of the fake Emeralds (which he has a physical negative reaction to) and smashes said villain's testing robots to pieces.

I never really considered this a problem. Sonic can get angry, be antagonized, the SA2 Shadow fight in Green Forest springs to mind.

Plus, Secret Rings has Darkspine Sonic, which is about as close to Dark Sonic as it gets. Sharha just died, trading her life for his, he absorbs the Rage, Sadness and Hatred Rings and transforms.

Even after he leaves the transformation, he still seems pretty pissed at Erazor Djinn, with killing Sharha at the top of the list.

So, yeah. It's not 1:1 and I'm not claiming these are the same, X is obviously more exaggerated, but I don't really have a problem with the concept. We can talk about how Eggman comes in, tells Sonic he needs to be better and not let his emotions overwhelm him, but frankly I think that's more of an X!Eggman issue than the transformation itself.

No, my real problem is, and always has been, how the fandom interpreted it. That's it. I've read so many fics, seen so many posts about Sonic just "turning dark" when angry, as if any transformations have ever been purely emotion without an external power-source. (Super requires the Chaos Emeralds, Hyper the Super Emeralds, Darkspine was 3 of the World Rings, Werehog was Dark Gaia energy, Excalibur Sonic was the sacred swords, Wisp transformations needed the Wisps, Super Sonic 2 was Chaos Emeralds + Cyber energy....you get it.)

The way I've always saw it, is yes, Sonic is upset, but he also is being affected by the fake Emeralds.

This is the Discotek translation, I don't know enough Japanese to say how accurate it is, all I know know is "warui" means bad/sick depending on the sentence. An older translation (and the English dub) points to him feeling physically sick around them.

Far as I can tell, he's already reacting bad to these Emeralds on top of being antagonized, so he uses power that's at his disposal does what the villain wants: fuck up his shit.

If the fake Emeralds didn't exist, this transformation wouldn't have happened. Additionally, since X ended and the only fake Emerald in the games was blown up in SA2, it can't happen again. (Unless you write scenario where someone makes fake Emeralds, but that requires writing for the form instead of just slapping it in à la characters in IDW.)

Perhaps I'm being too hard on a lot of kids that never really interacted with the source material and just wanted to write Sonic fanfics. I've read so many that made it quite obvious that the author didn't know anything about Sonic besides he's fast and I'm not really out here trying to say Sonic shouldn't inspire people to create. Never said I hated reading those fics, I got a good deal of entertainment out of them. It's simply this misconception has stretched so far, it's like the original context has been entirely erased.

And that's the part of Dark Sonic that bothers me.

I've seen plenty of arguments for why the transformation was a poor choice and I don't entirely disagree with them. For me, I could take it or leave it. It was a one-off short transformation in an anime where Sonic pretends to be Star Trek for a season, it just exists to me.

Although, it's been awhile since I last saw discussion of Dark Sonic, as a whole it seemed to be a bigger thing in the early 2010s. Possibly because now we have more recent Sonic shows and movies, it's not just X being the latest thing anymore. I certainly don't read fics like I used to, so I'd be surprised if it is still as heavily used as it used to be. Maybe if I get some time, I'll look up some fics and find out.