#that if something as simple as him painting his nails with bright colors

[datshitrandom]

How was to be in a gay relationship (klaine) on screen?

“It was fucking awesome man. I mean the main thing here, like not because I’m trying to be blasé about the obvious thing in this question because we are saying that this is a gay relationship, nowadays, we just call it a relationship on tv, but to contextualize it, a gay relationship on mainstream Fox Network, that’s a pretty cool thing to be a part of. I often equate my relationship to that whole experience to Slumdog Millionaire which is, if you are familiar with Slumdog Millionaire is a kid that gets ask a bunch of questions and he just so happens to have the experience to answer this very specific things, now being cisgender straight kid you go 'oh oh what? are you going to allow this guy to talk gay shit?', I’ve been so culturally queer my whole life, not because I’m trying you know, actually, I was gonna say not because I’m trying to be cool but I’m gonna erase that, is because I am trying to be cool. All the sh— in my life that I have tried to emulate, learn from and be inspired by are one hundred percent queer as f—. It was in queer communities that I’ve found people that I idolize, that I want to be, to learn something from. And I’d say that’s a gross generalization, that’s a lot of things and a lot of people. But I grew up in San Francisco in the ’90s. I watched men die. There was an awareness of the gay experience that was not a foreign concept to me. So, it was a narrative that I cared deeply about. I wasn’t like a f— saint or like 'I’m the man for the job', they hired me and they said, 'You’re the guy,' and I said, 'Okay, I’m the guy I will do my best, I will do my best to talk about it in the way I believe and a way that I’m passionate about'. So in many ways I’m glad that it was me because it was a thing that I really like showing up for and it meant a great deal to me that it meant a great deal to other people. Because when people say they were affected by that show or that relationship, it’s not because of me, it’s because of that relationship on a TV and the risks that people took to put that on TV and most important of all it took the people watching it to have the "aptitude" for seeing beyond what was maybe given to them in other avenues of culture. People of all ages, all spectrums of awareness say, 'I didn’t grow up with a show like that and it was a really meaningful thing for me to see,’ and I go ‘I didn’t grow up with a show like that’ and that would’ve been very meaningful for me too, you know?, regardless of the fact that I’m a straight kid. That has value. For anyone who’s been an underdog, we all know, in any shape or form — sexual, religious, biological, whatever — it has value because there’s going to be a lot of people who see that and go, 'Okay, I can now understand this in a context that maybe I wasn’t able to before'. So short story long, what was it like? It was a fucking privilege and I love talking about it and I’m so grateful I got to do it." - Darren Criss at the Chicago Comic & Entertainment Expo Q&A | April 27th, 2024 

[crumbledcastle28]

Azriel Shadowsinger: Sex Habits

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Summary: Headcanons (more like a bunch of imagines) about how Az treats his mate in the bedroom and otherwise.

Warnings: smut, smut, smut, smut, smuuuuuuut. Azriel is a switch, so is reader, swearing, lord of bloodshed cameo. This is pretty fucking dirty.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Thank you @cherryjain17 for this amazing, inspiring request. I hope I did it justice.

SJM Masterlist

If you would like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

(pic from pinterest)

Morning

-I am of the opinion that Azriel fucks you differently depending upon the time of day.

-Let's start with morning, shall we?

-Azriel is a scheduled, reliable male. Training in the morning, always, no matter the night he had before. He owed it to his High Lord to always be ready for a fight - physically, and mentally. His constant, consistent training was how he maintained that.

-However, what Rhys didn't know about what he partook in before training wouldn't hurt him.

-When Az would wake in the morning next to your - usually naked - sleeping, curled, warm body, hair sprayed across the pillows, scent unique to you filling his lungs, face painted in pure elation and serenity...

-...yeah, he would get a little hard.

-The best was when you would wake up with him, eyes dull with sleep, but their color still bright. A small, languid smile on your face. He couldn't help but touch you in that moment, his body begging him to satisfy every sense he had with the feeling of you.

-He would begin with your face, dragging the knuckle of his pointer finger across your cheekbone. Opening his palm to feel the entirety of your cheek. Tracing down the column of your throat with his pointer finger. Painting across your collarbone with every digit. Cupping your breasts delicately, fondling them, massaging them. Dragging fingers down the center of your stomach, heating up every inch of it before finally...

-...yeah, I think we get it.

-The interesting thing about sex in the morning with Azriel is that, although it begins slow, he goes fucking fast in the mornings. Pounding his fingers into you over and over again, your cum dripping down his fingers and wrist. When he finally tastes you, it's a feast. Sloppy and wet and messy and you're groaning and he's smiling so fucking big. He gets you right on the edge of euphoria before pulling back and pressing a quick kiss to your lips and turning you around, face pressed against your soft pillow, and plunging himself inside of you without a drop of mercy.

-(All of this happens within minutes because, like I said, he's got a schedule to keep).

-As he ravages you, pumping in and out and in and out faster than your brain can process, he fucking sweats. It drips down his back, down his face, across his lips, down his chest, everywhere. Your still drowsy body loves when you scrape your nails down it, coating your palms with it and fucking up his previously clean, fluffed hair with it.

-The finest, perfect part about his sex in the morning is that, even though it's rough, quick, rabid, he holds you close the entire time. He cradles your head in his forearms, litters your spine in passionate, lingering kisses, holds your hips like a cracking sculpture, caresses your scalp, thighs, and lower back.

-It is a paradox; rough yet gentle, greedy yet giving, horrid yet beautiful, quick yet endless, and hateful, yet some of the most loved you ever feel by him.

-When he finishes, and you finish multiple times, he departs you with only a kiss, and rushes down the stairs to make it in just enough time for Cassian to not suspect anything.

-He gives you smirks and winks all day anyway, much to your chagrin.

Afternoon

-Around mid to late afternoon is when Azriel tends to get an itch.

-An itch to step away from it all: his desk, his tasks, his responsibilities.

-Sometimes this itch can be scratched by something simple: a walk around Velaris, or a flight, a cup of cocoa, or even a quick nap.

-Other times, however, this metaphorical itch can only be scratched by the exclusive, spectacular taste of his mate.

-And luckily for you, Azriel is the fucking king of quickies.

-He finds you within minutes, utilizing the convenient bond cemented in his very bones, and conveys his desires with only a look.

-Some days, you decline. Too busy with work, too tired from a night previous, or just plainly not in the mood.

-On these days, Azriel understands. He leaves you respectfully, always with a short kiss and a silent promise of "later" permeating in the air.

-On the days where you do accept, however, is when Azriel truly lights on fire.

-The caveat to quickies with Azriel, however, is that he cannot risk any...leakage onto his clothing. Whether that be cum, spit, or otherwise.

-Frankly, you couldn't either. The both of you took your jobs and professionalism too seriously.

-Which is what makes these quickies so fucking good.

-He kisses you, hard, and lifts you under your ass against his waist to press you against a nearby wall, covering the both of you in shadow. He kisses you until your head spins before unzipping whatever top you have on, and claiming the shit out of your breasts.

-Gods how he loves your breasts.

-He kisses and licks, nibbles and bites, marks and marks and marks you all over your chest and ribcage, whispering words dripping in honey.

-"All mine, these are all mine, aren't they?"

-"Never going to get enough of these - enough of you."

-"I can hear your heart, baby. Need a break?"

-"Fuck you," you respond, your matching smiles and shining eyes giving away your infectious joy.

-He kisses your tits long enough to make your mouth go dry from hanging open so long, before finally making his way up to your throat, whispering "mine" along the column.

-Never leaving a mark.

-He kisses around your pulse, and sometimes you kiss around his as well, before finally recolliding his mouth with your own, and kissing you like a male starved. Mapping you like a cartographer exploding a new land. Rejoicing in the mix of your skin and your mouth on his tongue like a male on his knees in prayer.

-You would think just kisses from him wouldn't count as a quickie, but with how thoroughly and religiously and hungrily he does, you come close to release every time.

-The both of you counted it.

-On days when his cartography becomes too much to bare, or the ego in your chest roars at the thought of him getting you so close to release by just his kisses, your fingers finagle their way to the tent growing in his pants, and palm him through the leather.

-Azriel felt that, as long as your mouth was not on him, he could control himself. The bar of professionalism would be met, and the risk of leakage would be next to none.

-But you have never been one not to test a theory, especially in the name of science.

-You palm him so wretchedly ferociously and savagely that you can practically sketch the exact curve, vein, and girth of his bulge. That's how hard he gets through his pants. You wonder if there is any blood left for his brain.

-You even push him away from you and lick him through the leather, never enough to stain his pants, but enough for him to feel the heat of your tongue cupping his balls and dragging across his dick.

-Still, he never comes, not once; however, that didn't mean he didn't retaliate.

-On days when you'd suck him off this way, he strikes back like a true Illyrian warrior.

-Unforgiving, and calculated.

-He guides you away from him, and does the exact same thing to you.

-Fingers you through your pants, pressing the fabric so taught against your clit you thought you would explode, before pulling his hand away, and replacing it with his mouth. Licking your folds through the fabric, nudging your clit with his nose, devouring and consuming you through the protection of one tiny piece of fabric.

-The mix of heat and fabric is so delicious that, every time, he leaves you near tears.

-He pulls away from you slowly, makes sure you can stand on two feet, and with one last kiss to your cheek, he backs away from you.

-"Later," he whispers, one of his shadows drying the tears staining your hot cheeks. "I want more of you later. I want more of you always."

-You always somehow return to the task you were attempting to accomplish previously, mind puddy, hands shaking, and breasts deliciously sore.

Night

-So yes, Azriel likes to fuck you fast. Leave you wanting more. Drooling for him. Pooling on the floor. Left on shaking knees. Departing from you with only a few words.

-But his favorite, most beloved way to fuck you is to make love to you. Slowly. Intimately. In every way he knows you love.

-And that is how he does it at nighttime.

-But, I am getting ahead of myself.

-After long days of meetings, missions, planning, or even just boring paperwork, there is nothing he adores more than a quiet, serene dinner with you. He enjoys cooking the meal himself, usually making something one of you has mentioned having a recent craving for, and absolutely beaming when you finally walk through the door.

-You join him in the kitchen, and immediately wrap your hands around his waist, pulling him into a hug. He holds you close, breathing in the products in your hair, and kissing the top of your head.

-"How was your day?" you ask him.

-He's honest. Somedays he says "good," somedays he says "okay," and somedays he just sighs.

-You don't usually ask him to elaborate on those days unless you get the feeling that he wants to, but no matter what, he always asks you the question back.

-You are always honest with him too.

-After that, he finishes off dinner, and the two of you eat. Some nights it's full of conversations, sometimes superficial, like how the weather has been, but sometimes they're deep. Deep enough that sometimes he wonders if your words are able to reach inside of his brain and stroke it, hitting it exactly where he needs to be challenged, praised, or questioned.

-It was unreal every time, how well you knew him.

-Other nights, however, were coated in comfortable silence. Maybe you were both too tired to talk, or too content, or couldn't think of much to say. He never minded. If there was anything he could appreciate, it was happy, wonderful, comfortable silence. It was a sign that his day had come to an end, he had kept his Court and his people safe, and he had done at least something right.

-And what better way to bask in the safety of silence than with the person who knows you better than anyone, and the person you have more love for than stars in the sky.

-After the two of you have full stomachs, he always leads you to your shared bedroom by his arm, and pushes your chair in for you.

-Your face heats every time. Without fail.

-So does his.

-He leads you to the bedroom and kisses you once, twice, three times, before departing to take care of the dishes. He pictures how you make the mundane, simple task of getting ready for bed so godsdamn beautiful: your face cleaned, your hair refreshed, your breath newly minted, and your shoulders and jaw relaxed. A timeless beauty. A vulnerable sight, only for him.

-He finishes up and heads back to you, hands clean and soul at ease. He finds you already in bed; maybe reading, maybe writing, maybe already closing your eyes.

-He gets ready for bed himself, making sure his teeth and tongue are brushed thoroughly.

-Some nights, that is it. He joins you in bed and you drift off together, holding each other close at the beginning of the night, and closer in the morning. Smiles on your faces. Soft snores escaping you. Bodies breathing in sync.

-But not most nights.

-Most nights, after him joining you in bed, you pull him in, and kiss him so softly he barely feels it.

-But it's there.

-"Touch me, Azriel," you whisper, "and let me touch you."

-And he lets you.

-The kisses start soft, just lips on lips, before your tongue breaks his lips apart, and your bodies begin to warm up. Either he lays you down on your back or you push him down, either way, one of you gets on top of the other, and the two of you begin to do nothing less than venerate each other.

-So much kissing, so much feeling each other up and down; down each other's backs, across each other's faces, through each other's hair, across each other's stomachs, and so much breathing and groaning against each other's skin.

-This is all before a scrap of clothing comes off.

-When it does, however, Azriel undresses you like a nurse would undress a wound. Almost in slow motion, so he can take a peek at how every inch of your body looks that day. Maybe you gained a bruise, a scratch, a freckle, or a stretch mark. Either way, he wanted to make note of every inch of your body, memorizing every way your skin moved or wrinkled, your muscles flexed. He needs the image of you in his mind constantly updated.

-You do the same to him. Collecting every change in his body and adding them to his mental schema.

-When all of your clothes are finally off, and his mate stands before him completely raw, is when he begins to lose control of his mouth.

-"Gods, have you always looked like this?"

-"So warm, so soft."

-"How come every time I see you, I feel like I've spent my entire life blind?"

-His claim of never needing to resort to poetry holds true, but that doesn't mean he isn't damn good at it.

-After minutes and minutes of leaving hickeys, kisses, and indents on each other, so much so that both of your lower stomachs have begun to boil and your lungs are gasping for air, is when Azriel pulls away.

-"Can I?" he asks as he presses his forehead against yours, his hazel eyes glowing and his bulge pressed against your slick. You nod, smiling, and with one last kiss, he slides home.

-And fuck does he go nauseatingly slow.

-Even if you're on top, he ensures you pierce yourself with him with purpose, sliding his dick all the way in, all the way out, and all the way in, over and over and over.

-It was fucking heaven how well he fit in you, how he got you so wet you didn't even need to try, how deep his dick goes inside of you...

-...and how he has no qualms about never shutting the fuck up.

-Especially when you're on top - the view of you sliding him in and out of you, your body fully open to him to admire, and face at his disposal to kiss and whisper into.

-"My mate, oh my mate."

-"Right there, do you feel that? Fuck you take me so well."

-"My gods look at us, look at me in you."

-"You like that? Right there? I fucking love you. My mate. My love. My soul."

-As I said, poetry.

-One thing he never fails to take advantage of is the full-length mirror leaning against your wall, giving the both of you the perfect menu of angles to view yourselves.

-I think you know where this is going.

-"Look at us, baby. Look at us."

-"You're so fucking beautiful."

-"Look at yourself when you take me inside you."

-He goes on and on, drunk on the feeling of you, diminishing him of any sort of filter.

-I cannot imagine any reason you would want to shut up the most private, silent male in all of Prythian while he's sprouting sweet nothings to you, but if you do, there's one surefire way to do it.

-Reaching out your pointer and middle finger, only two fingers are necessary, and tracing thin lines down the veins in his wings.

-Never will you ever see him go so silent so quickly. His cheeks instantly redden and his voice escapes him. His cock begins to twitch inside you, his grip on either you or the sheets becomes so fierce his scarred knuckles turn a milk white, and his mouth falls open.'

-He becomes immediately and totally helpless.

-The two of you begin to fuck harder then, chasing the high the both of you are so close to, fucking into each other faster and faster and faster until finally you are coming on his cock, and he is spraying across your thighs.

-Finding release with a mate is different than any other - it is blinding, hot, and immeasurably pleasurable. It fills every vein in your body with a molten rapture, forcing you to collapse into his body, and his own to collapse onto yours. The bond within both of your chests throbbing in delight like a second heartbeat.

-After a few moments of you practically regaining consciousness, his warm, sweat covered body begins to move against you, making sure your head is comfortable on a pillow and your body is flat. He then presses kisses all across your face, etching a smile onto your face.

-"I still believe," he whispers against your temple, "that I will never get enough. I love you I love you I love you."

-The smell of sex and sweat vanquishes your nostrils as you stand up and head to the bathroom, Az's eyes burning holes through your skin.

-By the time you return, Azriel's arms are open to you, and you tuck yourself in. He holds you impossibly close, his miniscule chest hair rubbing against your cheek. His wings add a second layer of protection.

-Your body begins to fade, but your mind lingers a little longer to process one final statement whispered into your hair.

-"Gods, never allow me to be parted from her."

Taglist: (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @notquitehero @lovelyladymayyy@seraphqueen @em---r @azaideen @katiebellf @llovelydove @tinasbookishlife @xxpeachyxo @evlyncelia @icarusave @forever-paramore28 @peachyxlynch @feyretopia @wingedmiken @moonslattes @hollyismentallyillhelp @esposadomd @redhighlady @bsenpai-blog @buttercake2234 @perssepeony @whor-3-crux @avengerswhre @mystic-sculptorture @wolfyland7 @are-y0u-serious-blog @hilism @tooobsessedsstuff @simplysensual @hernameispa @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @i-am-fascinated @seraphimluxe @just-living5 @saphiraprince22 @azsazz​ @thatonespriteobsessedbitch​ @moisyinfluencerstrawberry @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​ @azsazz

[littlejuicebox]

Astarion and Tav at the nail salon.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: The city of Baldur’s Gate. Pure ridiculous drabble and fluff.

Rating/Warnings: PG / I don’t really think there’s any spoiler warnings besides brief mentions of places in BG3 I guess / NON-CANON

Word Count: I wrote this on my phone so tbd.

Notes: Okay I KNOW this doesn’t follow lore. But it’s cute, and heavily inspired by an interaction I had with my cutie patootie husband. Simple things make me happy.

“Two manicures, please.” You say to the tiefling attending the front desk.

“Okay, please go pick your color and come back to me when you’re ready.” The hostess responds with an opened-handed gesture toward the wall of nail polishes.

You smile and grab Astarion’s hand, leading him over to the array of polishes. The rogue trails behind you, simply following your lead. He’s never been in a place like this before, and doesn’t have the first clue about what to do. It’s clear he’s trying to go with the flow and simply trust your guidance.

“You can pick a color, if you’d like. Or if you don’t want to do color, you can do a clear coat.” You explain, gesturing to the colored polishes and then lifting a bottle of clear varnish to show him the alternative.

“Hmm.. as it’s my first time, my sweet, I think clear is a good starting point.” He responds, eyes brimming with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. “Though, if I like it… maybe I’ll do color the next time.”

You nod understandingly and then lift up a few different polishes, examining them closely as you aim to choose one for yourself. Perhaps a pale, neutral color… nothing too crazy. Astarion peruses the selection with you out of pure curiosity. While you’re focused on the more muted tones, he’s examining the bottles filled with sparkles and remarkably bright colors.

“Ooh. How about this one, my love?” He asks with a smile, wiggling a tiny bottle filled with a striking, bright shade of lapis.

You stared at the color. It wasn’t in your nature to pick something so… flamboyant. But the look of wonder on his face as he examined the little bottle convinced you to take the leap.

“For you, my Star, I’ll do it.” You respond, grabbing the bottle from the elf’s pale hands as he releases it with a pleased smile.

The two of you return to the counter, and the tiefling ushers you behind the curtain and into a room filled with several stalls for manicures and pedicures.

You two are sat side by side, soaking your hands in small bowls of warm, scented water. Astarion is loving it, and you can’t help but watch his genuine reactions at the new experience. They’re adorable. Another worker comes to you with glasses full of flavored water, and Astarion furrows his brows.

“We didn’t order these.” He says, looking at the glasses in confusion.

You can’t help but giggle, “My heart, they’re complimentary. They come with the service.”

Astarion’s mouth opens and his eyes widen in delighted shock. And then he’s happily sipping his flavored water from a straw as the worker starts to clean his cuticles. The tiny pile of dead flesh and nail clippings that the manicurist collects at the end causes the vampire’s nose to wrinkle.

“If I’d known all that was going on, I would’ve agreed to do this sooner.” He mumbles, eyeing the detritus in disgust.

He always kept his nails trimmed and clean, but this was another level for him entirely. You giggle at his face and then turn to focus on your own manicure, where the worker is painting a second coat of bright blue on your nails.

Before long, the two of you are finished with your services and head out the door with well-wishes. You two walk toward Elfsong Tavern, happy to take your rare day off to relax in the tavern lounge or at the bar. You’re examining your bright nails with interest, as Astarion is running his fingers over the smooth surface of his own shiny nails.

“You know… I never would have picked this for myself, Astarion. But I think I really like it.” You say, smiling at the vampire as you take his manicured hand in your own, interlocking your fingers with his. Astarion lifts your hand closer to his face so that he can intently examine your nails before looking at you.

“Well, of course, my sweet. You should know by now that I have excellent taste.” He gives you a sly smile and a wink, before pressing a quick kiss on your temple.

And really, how could you argue with that?

[icycoldninja]

Fluffcember #24 (Soldier boys x reader)

SOLDIER boys spending Christmas with their S/O

♡Sephiroth♡

-Sephy is surprisingly well versed with Christmas traditions, unlike how he is with Thanksgiving, though being a SOLDIER means he doesn't get many chances to take time off and really celebrate.

-Knows all about decking the halls, decorating Christmas trees, exchanging gifts and so on, but has only really ever gotten gifts (from Genesis and Angeal) and has never had a place of his own to decorate; the SOLDIER barracks were too small and too overcrowded with weapons for him to put up a tree.

-It is therefore your responsibility to teach him how to untangle those annoying knots that somehow always form in the Christmas lights no matter how carefully you store them. Once you give him a task, he is surprisingly proficient at it. The man managed to untangle 100 feet of Christmas lights in under 4 hours. He was very proud about it and puffed his chest out pridefully when you praised him for his good work.

-When it comes time to cook the Christmas dinner, he insists upon helping you, much like an exuberant 3 year old, and refuses to leave the kitchen until you assign him a task. Should you choose to ignore him, he will stand there in the corner and stare at you until you get so distracted and uncomfortable, you've no choice but to give him something to do, even if it's something as simple as stirring sauce or holding a tray for you.

-He's tall enough to put the star on the tree (and is probably taller than the tree itself) without a ladder. Consequently, he is now in charge of hanging the mistletoe--a power that he is abusing.

-He purposefully hangs the mistletoe under doorways and other places you're likely to stand under, just so he has an excuse to steal kisses from you.

◇Genesis◇

-To Genesis, Christmas is all about getting things and getting drunk. He has no festive spirit; he just wants to laze around, drinking all the time until it's time to open presents--and he expects lots of expensive stuff. (It's not his fault, the poor boy just wasn't loved enough)

-This dude is like Scrooge; all he cares about are things. That is why it is your duty to show him the true meaning of Christmas. Explain to him why decorating the tree is important; why you give each other gifts, and how price isn't everything--that it's the thought that counts.

-He will soon grow to enjoy Christmas traditions, specifically listening to Mariah Carey songs and helping you ice cookies. Bro may not be good at cooking or baking from scratch, but he's very talented in terms of food art. He can turn plain sugar-cookie shapes into gorgeous works of art.

-Will definitely do his makeup in Christmasy colors (red, gold, green), paint his nails to match the occasion, and wear a skintight Santa suit around the house during the entirety of Christmas day.

-When Christmas Day rolls around, he puts a bright pink bow in his hair, wears literally naught but red ribbons, and waltzes into your bedroom, declaring that he couldn't find anything you'd like, so he decided to gift you himself.

-That was a lie, of course. Not only did he give you himself for Christmas, he got you a selection of fashionable clothes so you can "dress as a Goddess should: elegantly".

♧Angeal♧

-This one knows everything, from how to properly baste a turkey to exactly where to drill a hole for the Christmas lights. Because of this skill, and his honor, Angeal can often be found outside on the roof during the entirety of Christmas Eve morning, hanging Christmas lights on the trim.

-Will definitely help you cook, bake, frost, ice, whatever you need, he'll help you with it.

-Loves classic Christmas songs like the Burl Ives Christmas songs, Frosty the Snowman, etc.

-Loves curling up with you on the couch with a big bowl of popcorn and just watching movies till like 4:00 A.M.

-Angeal is living proof that you're never too old for Santa--he bakes cookies and leaves a plate out one the counter with a glass of milk, and puts a bunch of carrots on the driveway.

-Also dresses up as a reindeer and walks in hoof shaped slippers, a whole-ass carrot stuffed halfway in his mouth.

[puddle-nerd]

His

Summary: He knew that the other male was watching him, watching them, watching how she came apart at the seams for him and a part of Tsu’tey was viciously glad because this greedy, little vrrtep was his and his alone. (Tsu’tey/Reader)

Prompt 8 (Voyeurism) for my submission for LunasKinktober2023

This one is for our favorite scowly boy. I love our grumpy blue kitty boy very, very much.

Na’vi Translation: Oel ngati kameie – “I see you” (spiritually (joyful feeling) ) Oel ngati tse’a – “I see you” (physically) Tewng – loincloth Tsaheylu – bond or neural connection Unilpay – alcoholic drink like moonshine (non-canon) Unyor’näk – alcoholic drink like wine (non-canon) Vrrtep – demon Yawntu – loved one | lover | beloved person Male OC’s: Tsäutsim Te Tengew Tremas’itan Story Tags: No use of Y/N, Female Reader, Voyeurism, Established Relationships, Secret Relationships, Jealous Tsu’tey, Possessive Tsu’tey, Slight Exhibition Kink

Once upon a time, Tsu’tey would have thought that there must have been something wrong with him as he immediately swung away from JakeSully’s incessant yammering to look towards where you were approaching with Neytiri, giggling together with bright smiles on both of your face. You were wearing ceremonial garb for the celebration following Jake and Neytiri’s wedding that left little to the imagination and had his ears flicking up and his tail curling in interest. And who would have ever guessed he would fall head over tail for a vrrtep?

Your strange, bare feet with one too many blue toes on each foot had had the nails painted a pretty, shimmery lilac color, setting off your skin nicely. While your loincloth was simple and light purple, the swath of fabric covered a little bit more of your front than was standard, leaving your striped thighs just barely peeking out from behind. The band wrapping horizontally around your curvy hips, however, was beaded heavily with light blue and purple crystals and bigger golden colored beads. It matched your chest covering perfectly. The thick purple band that rested over your collarbones was adorned with a couple of large shiny stones. Stemming from the cloth, dozens of strands of the same smaller crystals and beads which, technically, covered everything but he could see your periwinkle nipples faintly underneath.

“You’re droolin’,” Jake’s voice brought Tsu’tey back into focus and he hissed at the other male.

“Are you two fighting again?” You asked with a grin as you and Neytiri approached the two of them. “And here I though you two were finally besties.” What Tsu’tey hadn’t seen was you held two skins of either Unilpay or Unyor’näk in your hands. Seeing him look at them, you offered him one, adding, “I think this one’s the kind you like.” He smirked and took a tentative sip, nodding as his tongue distinguished the flavor of his preferred alcoholic beverage upon his tongue. “I did good then?” Tsu’tey grinned and wrapped his tail around yours, his only sign of PDA, lifting the leather bag to his lips.

Meanwhile, Jake was enfolded around Neytiri from behind, kissing at her cheek and her neck, whispering things into her ear that caused her to blush and swat at him. You scoffed and rolled your eyes at them, sharing your annoyed amusement with Tsu’tey.

Taking a seat on a log around one of the fires, Jake and Neytiri joined you both on a different log though they remained wrapped around each other while you and Tsu’tey sat side by side, tails still entwined. Apparently, that didn’t stop Tsäutsim Te Tengew Tremas’itan from approaching, his golden eyes solely rested upon you with an inviting grin upon his lip.

“Oel ngati tse’a,” Tsäutsim greeted you before nodding towards the newly wedded couple and to Tsu’tey. “Dancing has begun. Would you care to – with me?”

You and the three other seated adults all paused, looking at the bold display of the standing male. Feeling Tsu’tey tense beside you, you tell Tsäutsim, “I apologize but I must decline as I don’t feel like dancing at this time.” You tighten your tail around Tsu’tey’s, hoping it will soothe his ruffled feathers. The inviting grin wiped off the other male’s face and formed into a pout. “I believe Saeyla was looking for a dancing partner?” Tsäutsim nodded sharply, and backed away, his golden gaze flicking between you and Tsu’tey before he went in search of the other female, rather reluctantly.

Unfortunately, a few other males came up to ask you to dance as the night progressed and Tsu’tey’s irritation began to rise further and further. “Maybe you should ask me to dance, hmm?” You suggested, taking a sip from the skin of your Unyor’näk.

The male in question grumbled and stood, offering you his hand. However, he did not take you to the dancefloor. Instead, Tsu’tey led you away from the celebration and led you away to the hot springs below HomeTree. There were multiple steaming pools beneath their home, each one enclosed with thick layers of vegetation, though there were gaps in the hanging vines and fronds that allowed you to peek into each hot spring. Tsu’tey took you to one such empty pool, pushing the flora away and bringing you inside. You looked up as Tsu’tey backed you up against one of the large roots that made up a portion of the wall surrounding the hot spring, a smirk adorning your face as you watched him leaning over you, your tail curling up in a very telling way. He lifted his chin and scented the air, smirk coming to replace his normal scowl as he smelled your arousal. “Oel ngati kameie, yawntu,” you whispered, tilting your chin upwards, your silent beg for a kiss.

Deciding to be generous, Tsu’tey replied, “Oel ngati kameie,” before he lowered his face and brushed his lips against your own. You hummed and pressed up against him. “Greedy vrrtep,” he teased against your mouth.

You just smirked, replying, “It’s your fault. You make me insatiable.”

Tsu’tey puffed up slightly at that, bowing his head and biting lightly at your shoulder in the way he knew you liked. You whimpered and reached beneath your hair and neural queue to untie your chest covering, tossing it to the side and freeing your breasts to press against his chest. “Yawntu,” you whispered, “I need you, now.” Tsu’tey chuckled, kissing you again, running one of his hands over your back and the other cupping one of your breasts, kneading the soft flesh and plucking at your nipple. You whined, arching your back into his touch needily. A brief movement beyond the curtain of flora at the entrance of the steaming pool and Tsu’tey looked up and noticed a pair of golden eyes watching you and him. Tsu’tey smirked, biting teasingly at your neck, causing you to hum in pleasure. “Don’t tease,” you murmured.

“I would never dream of it my greedy, little vrrtep,” Tsu’tey told you, reaching for the ties of your tewng and undoing them, sliding the cloth from your lower body and catching the eyes of their audience once more. He smirked, watching the face come a bit closer so he would actually see their voyeur was in fact Tsäutsim. His vindictive glee rose high because you chose him.

Removing his own tewng, your lover turned you around so your back was to his front and kissed along your neck and shoulder, drawing your hair and neural queue over the opposite shoulder. Spreading your legs for him, you gasped as he lined himself up and sunk inside your warm, dripping entrance, pushing his hips forward, slipping into you inch by fucking inch. “Oh…” you couldn’t help but moan as you stretched to accommodate him, feeling every vein and curve of his cock as he bottomed out inside of your cunt.

“You have me now, my greedy, little vrrtep,” Tsu’tey hissed into your ear, eyes flicking up to see Tsäutsim’s gaze rivetted to you. “Shall I fuck you now?”

He didn’t actually wait for your reply as he steadied your hips against him, before pulling almost all of the way out, his cock dragging heavily against your gummy walls. You whined, greedily, trying to shift back against him, hearing him chuckle meanly as he prevented your from doing so. Instead, he slammed back into you, setting a relentless pace and rutting into like he was going into heat. Your ass bounced against his thighs with each thrust and your breath caught in your throat, your fingers of your one hand clinging to the back of Tsu’tey’s neck as he drove himself up into you. Arching your back, your cunt clenched around his cock bullying its way into your depths tightly, pleasured mewls escaping your throat.

Tsu’tey continued to drive himself deep into you, one hand lifting from your throat and moving to hold onto your throat gently as he rutted up into you from behind. His gaze flicked up to see Tsäutsim still watching, eyes darkened with lust as he took in your pleasure, the pleasure you could only find with Tsu’tey. As if you were purposefully adding insult to injury to the audience you still didn’t know you had, you suddenly pleaded, “Tsaheylu, Tsu’tey, please… Wanna feel you.” Keeping Tsäutsim’s gaze, your mate connected his neural queue with yours, holding you tighter as your pleasure and his reverberated through the bond, heightening what you both already felt.

It also meant you now knew Tsäutsim was watching.

Tsu’tey felt your startlement and nudged the emotions and thought process that he felt and experienced that led to his decision to put on a show for the other male. He could feel you mulling it over and while there was a part of you that was not happy with his decision, there was another piece of you that found his display of possessiveness quite arousing. He smirked and fucked you harder, feeling your internal coil tightening further as your cunt clamped down upon his cock.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chanted, grinding down upon him, the fingers of your left hand digging into the small of his back and your right-hand clinging to his wrist. He shifted his angle just slightly and felt you the second you climaxed, coming with a scream of his name, “Tsu’tey!”

Your spasming walls and the pleasure you poured through the bond forced his own end and he spilled deep inside of you, your walls milking him for all he was worth.

Tsäutsim was no longer watching.

But that was okay. Tsu’tey’s point had been made. You belonged to him, with him. You were his mate, had chosen him long before he had realized he had chosen you too, and there was no breaking that. The two of you were with each other until the end of all things. His friend, his lover, his greedy, little vrrtep, his yawntu, his mate.

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Originally Posted: 08 October 2023 Word Count: 1,666

AO3

@pandoraslxna, @eyweveng

[obae-me]

Upside Down- CH 12

Warnings: Allusions to mental illness, mentions of death. As Always, Read Safely.

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Missing Pieces

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“Aaaaand…” The moment was drawn out, the slight suspense hovering over everyone’s heads as the gentleman with the devilish smirk flicked his wrist. The final card swirled over onto the pile in the middle of the table. “I win, suckers!” Mammon leaned back in his chair with a bright grin on his face as everyone else groaned. He tilted the chair back a bit, balancing the furniture on its back two legs as he kicked his own up onto the table. His body was quickly shoved off the tabletop, almost sending him to the floor as Levi huffed. They got into a little spat, Levi claiming Mammon was cheating. Their argument seemed to be so natural, Beel and Asmo treated it as simple background noise. You were starting to learn to do the same.

With a sigh, Asmo chucked the rest of his cards on the table and shrugged. Perfectly painted nails ran through the strands of his hair. Locks shimmered, and you could’ve sworn you noticed tiny sparkles of glitter here and there. “And with that, I’m out.” He stood from his seat and strutted off, turning his head over his shoulder towards you as he waggled his fingers a bit. “Bye,” his voice cooed a little. “It’s been fun.” But even with that not-so-subtle flirting, he left as if he was dying to get out of here. Your brief time spent with him was already over.

The sound of the door shutting seemed to bring Mammon and Levi out of it. Your first pact-mate was still riding the high of his victory, even if he didn’t seem to be winning anything from it. “Well, want to go again?”

“No,” Levi groaned, settling back in his seat with slumped shoulders, Envy radiating off of him. Still, he showed no signs of leaving at the moment, and leaned forward to take his drink in his hands. “We should play something else. You win any card game because you cheat.”

“I don’t cheat!”

The heat of the second fight was snuffed out by an almost amused hum as Beel spoke. “I don’t care what we do. But maybe Levi is right, we should switch it up a bit.” The youngest of the humans present continued to eat the spread on the table. Frankly, you agreed with the other two. All of the snacks were nearly gone by now. You had spent the better part of the evening playing this colored-card game. You were trash at it, even though the rules weren’t too complex. Blame it on your frazzled mind. The day up until now had been rough, and you still couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of anxiety that had clung to you ever since you saw that flash of the camera. Mammon had continued to try to convince you it was simply someone following after them, but that didn’t make you feel any better. If anything, it made you feel worse.

Apparently Lucifer wasn’t the only famous one out of the seven. They all had some fame in their own right. Part of you had to wonder if it was due to their enormous influence in the Devildom. Mammon, as he said before, was a model. Posted on websites and magazines, adorning some of the most expensive brands on the market. Levi was a streamer, more popular online than in public, but people still knew his face. Satan was quite the brilliant prodigy, famous for entering competitions he’d had no previous history being in just to wipe the floor with everyone else, reveling in their wrath. Asmo was another influencer. Vlogging, photo-shopping, graphic design, interior design, dipping his hands into the fashion and makeup industries, he dabbled in quite a few areas, his following garnering huge numbers. Beel apparently was a famous football player, but had recently quit and left his team. Probably due to Lilith. And Belphie… well, actually, you still didn’t know a lot about him. No one wanted to talk about him almost as much as they didn’t want to talk about Lilith. So, yes, at the end of the day, the picture could’ve been centered around any one of them. To the outside world, you were just a sudden random stranger hanging out with the Morningstars. You could imagine the rumors now, being painted as some sudden love-interest that would cause the drama and intrigue that humans couldn’t live without. The thought made you groan.

“We should play a video game!” Levi announced, suddenly brightening at the thought.

Mammon scoffed. “No, because you always win those.”

“We should go outside and—“

“No,” both Levi and Mammon buzzed, cutting poor Beel off before he could even get his thought out.

Gluttony looked downcast for just a second before shaking it off, his head raising to look towards you. “What do you feel like doing?”

“Hm?” You straightened your back a bit. “Me?” Beel nodded and you fell silent as you thought about it. “I’m not sure,” you said honestly. “I haven’t done anything like this in a long time.” That seemed to send all the other humans into their own thoughts. You could read the same expression on all their faces. They hadn’t done anything like this in a long time either.

“We should probably clean the dining room up before Lucifer comes home,” Beel finally announced, picking up empty boxes and bags and eating the last few bites of everything while piling the trash into his arms.

“Don’t think Lucifer’s comin’ home tonight,” Mammon stated, but hopped up to his feet, grabbing his drink and his own bags off the floor, leaving his spot cluttered. “If he’s not home at this time of night, he’s not comin’ home at all. So we don’t hafta worry about it. Besides, it’s not like he ever comes here anyway.” A swift kick was made under the table, Levi’s foot coming into contact with his brother’s ankle. That’s when you both caught a glimpse of the deep-rooted sorrow on Beel’s face. Mammon got the message.

“I hope he comes back home soon,” Beel muttered. The way he said it, it sounded as if this sort of thing happened often. Lucifer was gone a lot. The red-haired human took a breath as if he was going to say something, but then changed his mind, taking himself and some of the trash out of the room. Beel vanished out into the hallway without another word.

“Way to go, idiot,” Levi hissed.

“What?!” Mammon bared his teeth for a second. “I… I was just being honest, ya know? It’s not… I don’t like it either! I…” He gestured angrily towards the door Beel left from before letting his hand drop, his arm swinging limply back to his side and hitting his thigh. You turned your head a bit, the last threads of intense sadness fading from the room. That human… was not okay.

Levi finally stood up, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket. “I’ll go check on him.” He walked away from the table and stopped for a second to look back at you. “I- uh- hope you like w-what I bought you. If you hate it, you can just throw it away!” After he was done shouting, he skittered away like a nervous lizard.

A frustrated hiss of air was pushed between Mammon’s teeth. The human muttered something about ‘unfair’ and ‘my gift was better’ and ‘I thought of that too, he just got to it first’. You rolled your eyes a little. “It’s not a competition.” While shopping, apparently Mammon and Levi both had the same grand idea to get you matching gifts. Mammon had so graciously gifted you a wallet. Apparently it was some popular brand, as if that meant anything to you, but it seemed to mean wonders to him. He claimed that he figured he’d might as well snag you one as a thank you, and as a means to finally have somewhere to place your money that Simeon gave you. Supposedly it was pretty dangerous to just have that piece of plastic just floating around in your room and pockets. Levi on the other hand, had bought you a phone case. When he finally noticed your device was ‘naked’ as he put it, he almost had a panic attack. So, he purchased you one. Stylish and functional, he claimed. Supposed to protect this little rectangle from cracking. Make it easier to hold. And he made sure it was one like his. It was rather amusing if you thought about it hard enough. Humans had the strangest ways of marking.

Greed couldn’t seem to find a proper reply. “Yeah…well…whatever.” Seemed like his mind was on other things.

“Is your brother going to be okay?” You curled your legs up, heels planted into the seat as you held your ankles. Every time you had met Beel so far, a simple phrase was all it took to send him away. Like it was painful to be around everyone. But a look in his eyes suggested that it was more painful to be without anyone. A dangerous double sword.

Mammon occupied his worried gaze by trying to admire some of his items in his many bags. “Beel? Yeah. Maybe… I dunno actually. He’s been having a real rough time ever since… You know.”

Lilith. “You’re worried about him.”

“Of course I am! You think I wouldn’t be?” His lips pursed a bit in thought, not noticing that you’d gotten to your feet. “We all suffered, but Beel… is taking it extra hard. Doesn’t help that Belphie… he’s not here right now. And they’re usually attached at the hip.”

You lowered your head a little to look straight into his eyes. It unsettled him, his pupils dilating as he flicked his sight away. “Mammon,” you coaxed, waiting until he eventually stared back at you. “I think it’s time you told me about Belphie.”

The house had gone quiet. It surprised you a little. Typically with so many people in one home, you could hear at least one person staying up with the moon. Yet, tonight, it appeared as if everyone was getting decent sleep. Even Mammon and Levi were resting. They were still recovering it seemed. And while you had strict orders now to do the same, you figured you would start taking this… job of yours a little more seriously. Seven whole humans were under your care now, and yet there were several brothers you’d only really met once.

Cloaked in your power, feeling a bit better after the prince’s intervention, you stepped through the halls. You were only just now starting to get a feel for the home, for all its twists and turns. But other than Mammon’s, Levi’s, and your own room, you had no strong sense of which doors led where. You hadn’t particularly cared to map this place out before, but now… this all felt much more real. Every day away from the Devildom cemented it further into your head that this wasn’t a joke. You were meant to stay here. A full year. Watching over these humans as if they were treasures. And now you had a pact with two of them. Perhaps you even felt… okay with staying here. There were worse places to be.

Silently, you started opening doors. The room right across from Mammon’s opened easily and without any noise. Faint little glowing lights illuminated certain spots of the room. The scent of vanilla and rose wafted out into the hall. Flowers and fabrics and elegance. Asmo’s room. You moved on. The next door stood out to you a little. It seemed slightly different than the other doors, not quite matching the house. A replacement for an older door perhaps. Inside was a mess of books and random objects of curiosity. Whoever was sleeping inside was tossing and turning. Satan. You’d leave him to his restlessness. The next discoveries were pretty uneventful. A storage closet, the bathroom, a little entranceway into an attic. Down at the other end of the hall, you entered into a vast bedroom. A master bedroom if ever you saw one. Empty. No one was inside. The stale fading scent of coffee beans and rustic wine. Lucifer’s domain. Although, much like Mammon’s had been, the bedroom hadn’t been used much in recent days. It felt cold. Empty. Mostly there for presentation’s sake. Much like the man himself.

Turning out of the room, you headed towards the last door on the upper floor. Before even peeking inside, gentle snoring could be heard from out in the hallway. Inside had not just one, but two beds. Each side of the room mirrored each other in layout, but had opposite designs. One bed had a lump of a human inside, the other was completely vacant. Without making a noise, you walked inside. Stepping over to the empty bed, you stared at a picture frame hanging from the wall. It was the same photo Lucifer had in his office… The one with all of them together and the sibling you could only conclude was Lilith. Now that you had some more time on your hands, you took a closer look at the picture. Lucifer was standing tall behind everyone, looking at the camera like one would properly pose. His hands were on the brother in front of him- Levi- keeping him from dashing away. Mammon was by Lucifer’s side, and Asmo by Mammon’s. Both of those two were doing their best to make the other one look the least photogenic as possible. Beel had pulled two others into his arms. Lilith… and another one. A younger boy with darkened hair and a soft look in tired eyes. Belphie? And now that you were looking at it, you realized you had been mistaken. Each brother was not there. You had counted seven people and your mind had filled in the blanks. But one person was missing. Satan wasn’t here. You did remember saying that Satan had been brought into the family last… perhaps this was before he came to be a Morningstar.

This side of the room had no scent… other than the lingering smell you associated with Beel. Belphie had been gone for a long time… You turned your head away from the photo and sat on the bed. The mattress squeaked a little, causing Beel to turn in his spot, waking a little. “Belphie?…” He muttered, half-asleep. His eyes stared past you at Belphie’s empty bed. The human laid there quietly before turning back on his other side. The snoring didn’t kick back up.

“Hospital?” You had asked when Mammon finally gave you an answer. “Is he sick?”

Mammon had struggled finding the words to say. He had fiddled with his hands, walked around his room, touched nearly everything he owned in a form of distraction. “In a way… Guess his mind wasn’t doin’ so well after Lilith died. He had always…struggled, but it got worse. And then one day… he just wasn’t home. Lucifer told everyone he was bein’ looked after and he’d be back home soon, but… that was a whole year ago now. Although we’ve finally heard that he’s coming back. Prolly within’ the next month or so.”

And that was that. No more information. No way of being able to check on Belphie. Lucifer seemed to be the only one with that information. And there was no way in heaven or hell that the eldest would give you permission. Hadn’t even let Beel see his own twin. Mammon had said Lucifer explained that it would be ‘better for Belphie’s recovery’ that way. Forced isolation. There had to be some way to find Belphie. For all you knew, some demon was already getting their claws into him. But… that would not be a problem for tonight. For the rest of tonight… maybe you’d do what was asked of you and let your body recover. Standing up from Belphie’s old bed, you snuck carefully past Beel and left.

The guest room… your room, felt strangely… different than normal. It was a well furnished guest-room. A bed, a nightstand, a wardrobe, a small table and chairs, some shelves, a bookcase. More than one might need for a temporary guest, but perhaps it had been created in the event the Morningstars added another person to their family. However, even with these things, something wasn’t quite… right. It was empty. And… while you really didn’t particularly care for human things… a new sin inside you couldn’t help but compare your room to every one else's. Levi’s envy… a pesky thing. A constant nagging in the back of your mind, complimented by Mammon’s greed. You needed something. Something that would now mark this room as yours officially.

Mammon’s room was quiet. The only lights that were on were a few soft display lights positioned above the car in it’s special loft. The shine from the metal sent glittering silver rays streaking across his ceiling. Must be comforting to him to open his eyes and see his room shining. His room definitely seemed much more lived in than the first time you’d been in here. Not as…empty. Although most of that was due to Mammon’s recent spending fervor. Bags and open boxes lay clustered by his couch, covering a good portion of the floor. His spending spree from earlier was… self-indulgent to say the least.

Your pact-mate was fast asleep, sprawled out under his covers. The aroma of his cologne was especially prominent. You stared at him for a while, little flashes of Greed and Envy flowing through your veins. The jacket that he had worn earlier was still draped over the end of his bed, slowly sliding off the mattress every time Mammon moved his foot. You snagged his jacket and left.

There was still light coming from under Levi’s door, but you heard no sound. A quick twist of the doorknob and you looked inside. Envy was resting curled up in a little ball on his bed. Seemed to you like he’d fallen asleep over his covers playing a game on a handheld device. He’d passed out during it apparently. You rolled your eyes a bit, padding over to him to take the game from his hands and set it on his nightstand, taking a bunched up blanket settled in his computer chair and draping it over the sleeping human. Strange troublesome creatures. Didn’t temperature greatly affect them? What if he got cold and died in the middle of the night?

Levi had a great many things in his room to choose from. None of which really stood out to you. You didn’t care for the figurines or the posters or the novelty items. There was a cushion of sorts on the floor, one in front of the TV in the corner of his room. A controller was settled on it, specific bumps and indents that suggested he rested his arms on it while playing. You crouched over and put the game controller aside, picking the cushion up to look at it. It was a pastel blue, almost minty color, with some kind of design on it that you were sure had some significance to Levi, but one that was completely foreign to you. You tucked it under your arm and walked out.

It was only fair. You had made two pacts, both without asking anything from them. They owed you more than they could ever pay back. These little trinkets were fair game, and frankly you felt as if you deserved it. You took your newly purloined items back to your room and put them both on your bed. Now it felt… more right. Greed and Envy were satisfied in you for the moment. Annoying little sins… Good thing you wouldn’t have to deal with any more of them.

You settled yourself into bed, able to close your eyes without having to worry about anything tonight.

A distant door shut.

The sound woke you instantly, every nerve in your body blaring. High alert. It took a moment for your memories to trickle back into your sleep-addled brain. But still. It was late. Well, for humans anyway. And for the Morningstars, it was well past Lucifer’s lockdown curfew. Unless it was the accursed man himself finally slinking home. But the codes… Maybe… was someone leaving? With a little groan, you got up to your feet to investigate.

The entrance hall was quiet. No new shoes were thrown near the front door. Someone must’ve left. You closed your eyes, reminding yourself that you wouldn’t overdo it. Nothing big enough to send Simeon snapping back at your heels. Just a little magic once more to make sure everything was alright. The skin across your body tingled as you went invisible, opening the front door and scanning the front yard.

A person was tapping away at a security lock on the inside of the gate, raising his head as the entrance to the property was opened. You jogged down the driveway and out of the grounds just before the gate shut behind you. Feet shuffled away. A glimpse of ginger-hair before a hood was pulled up over his head. Beel? Did he do jogs this early in the morning or something? His pace was steady though, rather slow. This wasn’t a mindless walk either. You had assumed for a moment that he had been antsy, perhaps walking off some anxiety, but every turn he made seemed intentional. Easy to keep up with at least. You tagged a few feet behind him, constantly turning your head, making sure no more eager demons could get the best of you.

Neighborhood homes eventually dwindled, approaching a more quiet side of town. There weren’t any towering buildings and crowded streets this way. You both passed a park, a little school, a pond. And then you approached a large gated off property. A tall mental fence curled up from the ground. Sharp metal arrows studded the top, a few bent in wrong directions from time and abuse. There was a large metal gate, two swinging doors frozen in place with a chain and lock. A pretty simplistic security system even for demonic standards. Even if you were from a different world, there were still universal signs and signals that you could pick up on. Do not enter. Not in the dead of night at least.

Beel turned, following the fence along it’s side, moving away from the gate. Curious… The both of you rounded the corner, at the back of the grounds now. Beel stepped off the sidewalk.

A stump sat near the pavement. Based from the size, it must’ve been a grand tree in it’s time. Now it waited for someone to finally pluck it from it’s eternal home in the ground. Although until then, it seemed to serve another purpose. Beel stepped up on it, looking over his shoulder. You pieced together what he was doing just as he gripped the top of the fence, his fingers snug between the spikes. Somehow, you kept yourself from hissing his name, remembering at the last moment that you were a shadow, nothing more. In a easy fluid motion, Beel hopped the fence. You were rather surprised to see how agile he was, even with his bigger frame. Either he was more skilled than you gave a human credit for, or he’d done this before. It was possible it was both. He landed on the other side with hardly a grunt, straightening his jacket before moving further across the lawn. You sighed softly to yourself. Even Beel, the one who you had assumed would be the least problematic… was trespassing… Could you have a single easy night? Was that too much to ask? Yes. Apparently it was.

Quickly following after him, you leapt, toes just barely touching the stump before you spryly hopped over the barrier without needing to use your hands. And while you scarcely made a sound, Beel still turned, stopping in his tracks, scanning the area. A few seconds passed before he continued on, looking rather relaxed for someone on forbidden grounds. You couldn’t help but seem to notice he knew where he was going too. Even with your stellar vision in the dark, you had almost tripped on several headstones while keeping the human steady in your sights. Meanwhile, Beel swiveled around graves in the dark, continuing towards his destination.

Eventually, Beel slowed. He stood in front of a pristine slab of stone, a name etched into it, a depiction of angelic wings cut into marble. He settled, sitting on the ground right in front of the headstone, crossing his legs under him. He adjusted the flowers that were there, noting with a crushed petal between his fingers that they needed to be replaced. You felt the lungs in your chest shrink a bit tighter. All you could do was watch. Yet, even as hellish as you were, invading his space and eavesdropping felt… too wrong. This was meant to be a private moment. So, instead, you’d simply make sure he was safe. A nearby tree suited surveillance purposes, just out of earshot of the human. Your claws dug into the bark before you pulled yourself up onto a branch, settling in with your back against the trunk, one leg dangling down as your tail served as proper support.

So this was where Lilith was…

Beel hunched himself over, his lips moving as he began to talk to the dearly departed. There was no smile on his face. There were things he needed to get off his chest, things he perhaps thought only the dead would listen to.

The fluttering of feathers caught your attention. A beautiful stark-white dove landed beside you, sharing your branch. Its head turned and twitched as it observed Beel in the distance, then turned its focus towards you despite your invisibility. It blinked innocently at you.

You couldn’t help but sigh loudly, a bit of your energy chipping away. “What are you doing here, angel?”

The dove cooed humorously before white swirled quickly in front of your vision, the creature revealing its true form. “Can’t I say hello outside of work?” Solomon grinned, trying still to bat his eyes at you in a wholesome manner. His casual body language as he curled his legs over the branch and the subtle shimmer around him suggested he was keeping himself from human view as well. To others, he probably still resembled a dove.

You scoffed a bit at him. “You’ve never bothered to reach out before.”

“Well, I’ve been busy!” He explained, pausing for a moment as if expecting a little bit of praise. When he wasn’t getting any, he moved on. The subject changed completely, successfully dodging the question you asked. “He comes here a lot, you know.” As his legs swung, he kicked one foot in Beel’s direction. “More frequently as of late…” Solomon’s personality thus far had been… some might say shady. Infuriating on some levels. Helpful in the ways that only seemed to benefit him at the same time, always taunting you with hints that suggested he held the keys to all your questions. Rather demonic, really. An angel with a dangerous smile working together with a demon with virtuous goals. What a match. That all aside, for once Solomon appeared sympathetic, almost… guilty. That couldn’t be right though, could it? Why would he be?…

“Does he break in like this often? If he keeps going like this, he’s going to get caught.” If Beel got dragged away for something like this, you didn’t want to imagine the next lecture Simeon would give you.

Solomon went back to smiling, that remorseful expression entirely gone. “Oh, he’s already been discovered.” A bubble of laughter drifted up to his lips. “It was on his first night jumping the fence too. Fell right in front of the security guard. She was about ready to drag him out by the ear and call the cops, but one look at his pleading face got her to rethink things. She allows him come by after close every so often. Brought him cookies last week. Her mom used to be a baker, so she says. He only does this on especially bad days.”

As you listened to the angel, you watched Beel talk to Lilith’s cold grave some more. The human swayed back and forth in his place, like he was trying to comfort himself. You raised an eyebrow at Solomon. “How… do you know all this?”

For once, the man gave you a rather straightforward answer. “I’ve always had my eye on them.” That only raised more questions.

“If that’s true, why didn’t Simeon make you stay with them?” Surely an angel who already knew them better than you did would make a better bodyguard.

One shoulder shrugged. “The prince has his reasons.” Sure he did. How annoying. "And, as you know, the Celestial Realm is real serious about interfering with mortals."

Right... you remembered something like that. It was brought up to you once before. A very long time ago... when you had asked an angel for a favor. “Still... I'm not blind. You both are keeping things from me. I don’t like it. Is Simeon lying to me? What are you both really after?”

A tut. “Come now. You don’t give away the twist of Act Three before its dramatic reveal.” His hand swirled in a performative gesture. “Simeon knows exactly what he wants. Meanwhile, I know how to get it there. And you, my darling friend, are the beating heart that keeps it moving forward. We are all required to do our part.”

Was he really your friend? You found that hard to believe. Allies don’t often keep things from each other. They weren’t supposed to keep each other at arms length for safety reasons. “I don’t like being moved around like a pawn.”

You waited for some half-hearted reassurance that you were not a pawn, but it never came. Instead, Solomon held out his palm and cast a sparkling spell. “Here.” He handed you a white box.

“What is it?”

“An olive branch.” The corners of his mouth lifted, a gentle smile on his face, but his eyes still glistened with a playful coyness. “Listen, everything will be laid out full in time. Just trust Simeon and I to do our proper work behind the scenes.” He judged the look on your face and chuckled. “He can get a little… you know… authoritarian when things don’t go quite like he expects it to, but he’s your ally. He wants what’s best for all of us. The Morningstars included.” You could’ve responded in a myriad of ways, but instead, you decided to leave things be. For now. An easy movement opened the lid of the box. Inside was a round cake, covered in uneven pink frosting. A yellow smiley face and several icing flowers decorated the top. Two plastic forks were settled inside. You shut the box again, raising your eyes to see Solomon suddenly beaming. Something about the cake had invoked the most genuine excitement from him yet. That made you nervous… “I made it myself.” You figured. This was nothing close to Luke’s. You’d have to give that little demon some kudos next time you saw him.

You nodded politely and settled the box in your lap despite something deep within you encouraging to throw the thing as far as you could. You wondered why… “Thank you.”

“You should go share it with him,” Solomon suggested. “It’ll probably make you both feel better.” With that said, his form flickered, a fog rolling over him till the little dove was back at your side. He chirped twice in a ‘goodbye’ and flew away as strangely as he came.

You looked down at the box in your lap before observing Beel again. Sparkling tears ran down his face. This was a bad idea… yet, something compelled you to do it anyway. Hopping down from the branch, you snuck behind the cover of the tree before becoming visible once more. You strutted out, making sure your footsteps made enough of a crunch to announce your presence. When you were close enough, Beel snapped his head back to look at you, quickly wiping away his tears. Fear crossed over his face, and then confusion. “MC?” He blinked, having to look at you several times before he had confirmed that it was you he was seeing. “What… are you doing here?”

“Ah… your brothers said I might find you here.” A terrible lie, but you had no other excuse. You lifted the box in the air and sat by his side. “In the mood for cake?”

Tag-List

(Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from this list!) 

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[gunilslaugh]

Could I request their reaction to you being gothic and loving the dark aesthetic please 🙏

Here you go! I hope that you enjoy it! :)

All members √ • – • √

Summary: How Xdinary Heroes are with a gothic significant other.

WC:631

Warning:none

photo not mine credits to owner.

Gunli

Gunil loves that you’re unapologetically you. Your gothic wardrobe tends to be eye-catching. It even earns you some judgemental looks, but that never bothers you and it amazes Gunil. You tend to be a bit more reserved and individualistic, so moments where you rely on him makes Gunil’s heart swarm. Any time he sees something with a dark/all black aesthetic it reminds him of you. He was walking on his way to the studio when he passed a black cat. He snapped a picture of it and sent it to you with the caption. “Look you two are twinning! (It reminded me of you)”. 

Jungsu

Jungsu finds your gothic style very interesting. He feels like before meeting you he has heard the term “gothic/goth” more jokingly rather than seriously, so knowing you had given him the opportunity to truly understand what goth culture is. He comes to really respect it. He’ll sometimes have you pick out his outfit for him, so the two of you can have matching dark aesthetics. He loves to take photos together with you on those days or even just in general. If you are into poetry he will write you little poems. Either sending them to you by text or writing them on sticky notes.

Gaon/Jiseok

Jiseok loves having a gothic significant other. It’s very fun for him. Once he stuck a bright neon yellow shirt into your all black closet and thought that it was the funniest thing. The unimpressed and slightly mad face you looked at him with upon seeing the shirt is something he won’t forget. He tries to get you to wear the shirt too, saying you should give color a chance. That’s just fun and games though on a serious note he does respect you and your gothicness. He’ll listen to the bands that you like and even recommend some new ones to you.

O.de/Seungmin

You being gothic is what caught his attention first. It made him want to get to know you and he’s so glad that he did. You will occasionally refer to him as your honorary goth boyfriend, since he does have some likes and qualities of the goth culture. He will have you paint his nails black for him and he will do the same for you. It takes him longer than it would if you just painted them yourself, but you don’t mind. You like the warmth that radiates from his hands as he carefully paints your nails.

Junhan/Hyeongjun

Hyeonjun finds a liking to the gothic style. Meaning that he also likes your gothic style and admires it. He really takes an interest in your accessories and often borrows them from you. Whether it’s rings, bracelets, or necklaces he likes them all. Will buy you two matching accessories that you both can wear together. Hyeongjun will make note of your favorite songs and secretly learn how to play them on his guitar. Then he will just randomly play them for you. The brightest simple breaks out on his face about how happy you got over him playing your favorite song(s).

Jooyeon

At first he didn’t understand the full meaning of what being goth/gothic was. After you explained it to him, it fascinated him. The first time he opened your closet he was stunned. It was black, it almost looked like nothing was in there, just one big shadow. If he feels like being funny he will come to you dressed in bright, vibrant colors, completely contrasting your bright aesthetic. He makes it his goal to see you wear something colorful. He enjoys listening to the music that you like and sharing songs with you, but sometimes those songs are completely out of pocket like Orange Caramel Catallena.

[writingseaslugs]

Heartslabyul: Manicures with Them

Got a request to do from @yuyucchi-exe with the characters getting manicures with reader (aka doing their nails and vice-versa). This was so much fun to write because for some reason I never thought about what their nails were all like until now. So here we go!

Disclaimer: All characters in this series are aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please do a quick read of THIS post.

Heartslabyul (You’re Here) | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia

Manicures with Them

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is very meticulous when it comes to keeping up appearances, and nails are included in this. He’ll normally be filing them to be more rounded and then put on a simple nail polish. More often than not, it’ll be a bright red nail polish that goes well with his dorm uniform as well as his hair.

He doesn’t mind you doing his nails as long as you follow his instructions. He doesn’t allow you to use nail clippers on him at all, it has to be a glass nail file. You also have to do exactly one coat of base and top, two coats of red nail polish, and only three strokes per finger except for the pinkie which can deal with one stroke from the brush. He is very OCD when it comes to how his nails are done, and as long as you’re fine with this, he enjoys having you do them.

If you ask him to do your nails, he will remind you that you can’t make a habit of others doing things for you, but he’ll oblige. He finds it to be rather relaxing in all honesty to be holding your hand and playing with your nails. Most likely will be painting them the same red he uses for his nails since it’s all he has on hand. If you bring your own, he’ll use that but he’d much prefer red on you.

Trey Clover

Trey normally just clips his nails and then files them down until they’re nice and smooth. He doesn’t see a point in going wild with his nails since he does a lot of baking all the time. They’d just get messed up almost immediately, so why bother? He still doesn’t like them being long since bacteria can gather under them and that’s the last thing he needs to worry about when making pastries for the tea parties.

If you want to do his nails, he won’t argue the point. The good news is that you’ll probably be doing a better job than what he normally does with them. He doesn’t even know that cuticle oil is really a thing until you pull it out and use it on his nails. He might even start asking you since you do it so much better than him. Not to mention he enjoys that extra time spent with you. His only rule is no nail polish since it can chip and fall into his food.

If you ask him to, he’ll do so but ask why you’re asking him of all people to do your nails. He’s by no means a professional in this area of expertise, but since you asked he might as well. He’s painted his younger sister’s nails before so he’s not clueless about it. Don’t expect anything extravagant, it’ll be clipping your nails and then putting polish over them once.

Cater Diamond

Cater files his nails down most of the time, and will occasionally go out and get a proper manicure. He enjoys matching his nails to what he’s wearing, so normally it’s either red or black to match the uniform. He’ll also sometimes get French tips done on his nails with little diamonds on them.

He adores you doing his nails since it’s a cute way to bond. He’ll give you tips on how to do things if you’re not the best and if you already know what you’re doing then go hog wild. No matter what you do, he’s going to love it and snap some photos for his Magicam. He’ll also make sure to tag you. If you’re really good, your best bet he’ll encourage you to post them yourself to promote your skills, since you never know when something like that will come in handy.

He knows how to do nails, thanks to his older sister, and will happily do your nails. He enjoys playing around with the polish colors and will always try and add designs. He does a good job with the designs as well, so that’s a bonus. It won’t look like a professional manicure, but it’s good enough to pass as a new nail tech doing the job. He enjoys taking your hand afterward and snapping a photo of holding it in his own to post his work.

Ace Trappola

Ace just straight-up clips his nails with clippers and calls it a day. They’re normally flush against the skin so he doesn’t have to worry about them for a while. Nail polish? He might’ve had it done once or twice, but it’s not something he ever cares about. He normally ruins nail polish within the first day with it chipping due to his harsh treatment. His cuticles are also out of whack and he almost always has a hang nail he’s biting off.

You’re gonna have to grab him before he cuts them himself if you have any hope of doing anything decent with his nails. If you get him after, you’d have to push the skin from his nail back so you have room to file since they’re so short. Clean up those horrible cuticles and get rid of the hangnails. This little turd probably won’t be seeking you out to do his nails all the time either since it’s a pain, so if you want an Ace with decent nails then you have to keep it on a schedule so he doesn’t get a hold of the nail clippers again.

Good luck if you ask him to do your nails, especially if you provide all the tools he’ll be needing. He files your nails in a back-and-forth motion and will try to clip your cuticles without any prep like a softener, and ends up in you wincing as you bleed. Nail polish though? He’s not terrible since he had to paint all those roses and got decent with it. You’ll probably have some polish around your nails, but at least it’s easy to clean with a q-tip.

Deuce Spade

Deuce is a convenience nail-biter. He doesn’t do it as an anxiety response; he’ll just one day notice his nails are long and will bite them to quickly fix the problem. This leads to a lot of hangnails which he also just chews off. If he happens to notice his nails are long and he has clippers around, he’ll use those instead, but most of the time he doesn’t so chew it is. Those nails are always uneven and sometimes even jagged.

Please start doing his nails and keeping him on a biweekly schedule. If you’re insistent that you’ll be doing his nails from now on, he’ll stop biting them…as long as you’re consistent. The moment they’re too long and causing him problems, he’s getting rid of them. File them and clean his cuticles, and if he’s feeling it he doesn’t mind you polishing them. He might be confused as to what a base and top coat are but it’s fine, just do it.

He sucks at doing nails but if you ask him to, he will reluctantly do so after warning you. He doesn’t know how to use a nail file and will probably just go straight for the nail clippers. He doesn’t know how to do anything special like cleaning around the nail and putting all the layers of polish on, but he’ll at least try. He might even attempt to draw a spade on one of your nails to be fancy, but it’ll look more like a blob on your hand.

[leighsartworks216]

Painting Data's Nails

Data Soong x GN!Reader (platonic)

This was inspired by The Experiment by star_trek4ever on AO3 pls go read it its an awesome fic <3

Also wanna say that this is my first time writing Data and I am also not very far into the TNG series so maybe some of this contradicts idk

Warnings: very very light angst

Word Count: 1745

Masterlist

Tag List Form (Updated)

"Lieutenant, what is the purpose of this activity?"

Data's hand, surprisingly warm, rested steady in your own. Matter of fact, his hand was perfectly still; it was your hand's imperfect movements that caused it to move at all. Heavily focused on the task at hand, the question lingered in the air. The brush swept across the nail, leaving liquid pigment in its wake. Delicately, you evenly distributed the lacquer.. Then, with a relieved breath, you straightened away from his hand and deposited the brush back into the small bottle.

It was your idea. Data, with all his access to information and vast knowledge of early Earth history, knew nothing about human spa days. More accurately, he knew of them, but the greater purpose of taking care of oneself was lost on him.

"Well, nothing, really." You blew lightly on his nails, urging the yellow paint to dry faster. "I think it started as a beauty thing. Humans, mostly women, would paint their nails a bright color - like red or pink - and it would catch the eye of others. It became a form of vanity as it progressed, before it sort of died out."

"Intriguing." His brow furrowed at his hands, eyes distant as he skimmed through the database in his mind for more information. In a second, his eyes were focused once more on you. "Ah, I see. Painting one's nails became a popular form of self-expression in the early 20th century, temporarily increasing confidence and gathering the attention of others due to the humans' limited visible color spectrum.

"According to my records, disputes arose as to who would be allowed to wear nail polish, sometimes resulting in violence. I do not understand this. It is a rather simple activity - how could it cause such disagreement?"

You lifted his other hand and began the process of painting the nails once more. Your handiwork wasn't perfect - small bits of the paint attached itself to his cuticles, resulting in a non-uniform appearance - but the Android didn't seem to mind (or understand that it was 'imperfect') and you were enjoying the easy, repetitive motions.

"That's..." You struggled to find the word as you tried cleaning up a large dab of paint on his finger, the result of a sudden hand twitch. "Complicated. Back then, and I guess even still now, humans were uncomfortable with people even slightly different from them. They built up bullshit 'rules' to describe femininity and masculinity, and anybody that didn't fit into those societal standards was ostracized. It was mostly men who were made fun of for painting their nails, since it's considered a 'feminine' activity. They would be labeled as homosexual, regardless of their actual preferences in sex. It was a way to bully them for enjoying something that wasn't deemed masculine enough.

"But," you added, smiling softly at the man sitting across from you, "it was an excellent form of rebellion against those standards. People of all genders would wear the 'wrong' clothing or indulge themselves in things that went against the status quo. Of course, it died out once universal gender equality was established in... 2037?"

Data nodded, confirming the date. "Quite correct, lieutenant. The Complete Gender Equality Bill was passed in October of 2037, and stated that all persons, regardless of biological sex or personal gender identity, were allowed the same rights to equal pay, marriage, privacy, and expression."

His mouth opened for a brief second, ready to explain the various amendments that had been made to the original bill and their impacts on history, before shutting. You glanced up from your work in surprise when he didn't continue to ramble on.

"What's wrong?"

He was frowning again, appearing almost upset. "I have discovered that my tendency to, as the Captain puts it, 'babble' makes those around me uncomfortable and irritated. In an effort to avoid this, I have resorted to shortening my explanations."

Now it was your turn to frown. "You shouldn't have to do that, Data."

"No? But it makes my colleagues uncomfortable when I babble."

"Don't tell me they cut you off..."

Data remained silent, adhering to your wish.

You sighed, upset but also aggravated. Briefly, Data wondered if it was his literal interpretation that troubled you, as he often got confused with human expressions as such.

"You consider them your friends, correct?"

He considered this for a moment. "The definition of friend requires that we share a 'bond of mutual affection.' I do not believe this is true."

"Okay, then, what about companions?"

His head tilted, searching for the definition. "Ah, yes. 'A person or animal with whom one spends a lot of time with or with whom one travels.' My relationship with the rest of the Bridge crew does, indeed, satisfy this definition."

"Then they shouldn't do that. Friends or companions or colleagues or whatever should have a mutual form of respect. You don't just cut off somebody you respect. It's rude and mean and unfair."

"I do not comprehend their actions as mean; I am incapable of feeling that emotion."

You huffed, clearly annoyed at the topic of discussion. "That doesn't matter! What matters is that they know it's rude, but they don't care because they don't hold a mutual respect for you. They see you as lesser than them and it's not fair!"

"Inquiry: what is unfair about it?"

You barely stopped yourself from grabbing his shoulders and shaking to emphasize your point. Instead, eager to release the tension running through your veins, you stood from your bed and began pacing around your room.

“Regardless of whether you are an android or a human, or an android with human emotions, the Captain is human, the first officer is human - they have the emotions and rationelle to know what is rude or inappropriate when talking with someone else. Whether you are able to perceive it as rude means nothing when the people actively silencing you know it’s wrong! By continuing to interrupt you and cut you off, they are actively letting you know in a passive aggressive - possibly even subconscious - way that you are less than human. They claim to accept and encourage your personal goal of embracing human emotions, but actively play a role in stunting that growth by not giving you the space or time of day a normal human would get.

“It’s unfair because it’s hypocritical and demeaning and, ugh, so very human of them to look down on anything slightly different from them.” A long, drawn out sigh escaped you, stealing with it the last remnants of your anger and frustration. You plopped back down on the bed, laying unceremoniously across from Data.

It takes you a minute to gather the energy to sit back up. Your outburst has drained you of energy. After a long work day bustling from control panel to control panel, reattaching wires or rerouting power, you had just enough energy to have a quiet moment with Data. And now it was all gone. So much for a relaxing spa day.

“Lieutenant?”

You hum to let him know you’re listening even as you twist the yellow bottle of paint shut and retrieve the sealing top coat of polish from a miniature makeup bag.

“If, as you suggest, this repetitive behavior is detrimental to my goal, what would you suggest I do to confront the issue?”

Halfway to reaching his hand, Data holds it out for you, meeting you in a familiar middle ground. His hands are still warm and steady. Your brushing movements are clumsier than before. He would have gone so far as to say careless, but the change in your demeanor was akin to exhaustion, so he did not say anything.

You sighed. “If it really doesn’t bother you, do nothing. If you think they really do have a good reason for cutting you off, do nothing. But…” You placed his right hand back in his lap to dry and picked up his left hand. “I think you should mention it, at least. You deserve to be treated with respect, even if you do have a tendency to ‘babble’.”

Data’s mind rushed to consider the possibilities, and his own ‘emotions’. While, no, he did not feel irritation or unfairness in his colleague’s actions, he considered your empathetic viewpoint. Rationally, there were times when he was explaining something in detail to the Captain, something he felt was of importance to the mission at hand, only to be cut off and left lacking in the satisfaction of the explanation. It was not illogical to interpret this as an early form of irritation or inadequacy.

On the other hand, he could understand in certain situations that his extensive elaborating was unhelpful, such as listing times down to their seconds or stating every single number past a decimal point rather than rounding up - topics he often got cut off on.

Having the facts laid bare before him, it was easy to come to a consensus. If he could round up his numbers and calculate how vital the information was before continuing to elaborate on insignificant matters, there would be less need to be interrupted. And if his colleagues on the Bridge could conclude whether or not the information was vital, and learn to cut him off in a ‘kinder’ manner, there would be less interrupting overall.

When he zoned back in from his contemplations, you were softly blowing along his nails.

“Lieutenant?” You hummed again, carefully running your thumbpad over the lacquer to ensure it was dry and continuing to blow when one was a little wet. “I have considered your suggestions and have concluded the best course of action. From my understanding, when humans do not communicate their issues with one another, the problems begin to increase in magnitude. It would be beneficial for myself and my companions to communicate these issues as I have with you and find a middle ground with which to continue forward.”

You brushed your thumb over his nails once again before letting his hands go. You grinned up at him, eyes softened with fatigue. “I think that’s a good idea, Data.” You smiled a little bit wider when Data’s lips curled into an awkward facsimile of a grin.

As he returned to his room, leaving you with an in-depth description of the Complete Gender Equality Bill as you drifted off for the evening he considered how fitting it was to be wearing a symbol of rebellion and standing up for oneself.

[joanofarcbutsilly]

this is just a simple drabble about hobie being a menace when you paint his nails!

reader is gender neutral, ask to tag for warnings if necessary!

rn i'm thinking about hobie letting you paint his nails, because of course he would! it's pretty, another way to express himself, and he will take ANY excuse to hold your hand even though he knows he doesn't need it.

he also just loves that it is another excuse for him to be a silly little goose :)

when you ask him if you can paint his nails, he makes a little show of thinking about it,

"i d'know love," he'd murmur with a lazily masked smile, "wont be able to use m' hands for a bit'

he's got the tiniest little smirk on his face while he's turning his hands over and over and looking intently at each and every one of his fingers

it's only after you beg for a bit that he laments and sits himself down with a sigh, positioning his arm on the chair's side and turning his head away from you, "do what you have to, but i want the works, yeah?"

his silliness will NOT end there. he

REFUSES to stop being a goofy guy. (although he makes sure to stay very still and not fidget while you apply the base coat)

you've got his hand curled around yours where he has it resting, lightly blowing on the drying paint when you ask what color he thinks he'd like to have. he scrunches his face up and hums while tapping his fingers on his free hand. this goes on for AT LEAST two minutes before he shakes his head, "i jus' don't know..”

you ask him EVERY POSSIBLE QUESTION, whether he'd like a color that is warm or cool, bright or more subdued, maybe a neutral, something natural, etc etc. eventually you just gotta bring out the stash for him to inspect

picking a color is the biggest issue during the whole debacle.

he picks up EVERY SINGLE BOTTLE to turn over in his hand, hold up to the light, and asks sooooo many questions

he's got a bottle in each hand, a dark plumish purple in his right, and a black paint with iridescent sparkles in his left. he's spun them both around countless times, he periodically frowns and holds one up towards the open window before doing the same with the other. you've got your head resting on your hand staring off into the abyss because you KNOW he is doing this on purpose and there is NO WAY he is thinking this much about such a little decision.

hobie loves that he can sense your exasperation coming off of you in waves, and cannot resist poking the bear, "hard decision luvie," he speaks lowly with a shit eating grin, "gonna be a permanent part of me for a bits

"hobie it's gonna last a week at MOST, maybe less"

he sighs and shakes his head and drops the two bottles in the chair next to him,

"big decision big decision, that's a commitment love"

you tip forward with a groan and your head lands on hobie's knee, "please for the love of god just pick one"

he snickers a bit before he taps your head, “fine. i have a few questions first. which one matches my skin tone?"

"hobieeee i don't knoooow," you moan, "i just got them cause they're pretty"

"that brings up another issue," he tents his hands together, "we have to consider the ethical ramifications of where these came from, don't we?"

you let out a fake sob and lean back up so you can see what he's talking about, and hopefully reach a decision faster, "if we have to”

he grins and nods matter of factly,

"right love," he leans forward to reach onto the side table that is holding the rest of the polishes grabbing some in handfuls before dumping them in the seat next to him along with two previously discarded

he gently picks up one of the bottles and holds it up to your face, "where'd this come from"

"christmas gift from my sister"

he grabs the next

"got it from a friend who was a nail tech for a bit"

"how 'bout this?"

"stole it from somewhere, don't remember, big chain"

a big grin breaks across his face and he nods approvingly before grabbing the next, "this?"

"same story"

this goes on for much longer than necessary, before he makes it to a dark navy blue polish, holding it up with an expectant look on his face.

"uhm, amazon i think"

his nose crinkles and he sets the bottle on the floor and kicks it a good distance away, "not a chance," he's got a grimace on his face.

he does this with EVERY SINGLE ONE.

at some point you just have to put your foot down and demand he chooses. he's got a little frown on his face cause his little game has finally been put to an end, but he quickly recovers and grins before reaching through the pile to grab a plain black polish

he's got a toothy grin on his face as he thrusts it out to you, "goes with everything, yeah?"

[hiraethhh-h]

painting danny, michael, and herman’s nails & their reactions (HCs)

Anonymous asked: Painting Danny, Micheal, and Herman's nails? How would they react ? And if they say no their s/o (fem) just keeps like hinting at it on other days that their nails would look good in idk pink or smth :)

Michael Myers - The Shape

yikes… good luck

i only say that because this man does not take care of his hands, so you’d probably have to give them a good scrubbing before you even think of applying nail polish

and good luck getting his permission

when and if you ask, he’ll either give you his signature stare or just leave to do michael things

and if you constantly mention how good his hands would look in hot pink, he will stare at you

not his normal michael stare, but stare stare as in his head slowly and menacingly follows you around no matter what you do

on the chance that you do manage to convince him to let you paint his nails, michael chooses black

okay, yeah, that does sound boring, but michael is a simple man

plus he thinks black suits him :)

during your nail painting session, michael is as still as a rock, which isn’t surprising

he almost immediately stands up when you’re done, but you’re quick to scold him about letting his nails dry

michael stops moving and you can feel his stare

the silence is so loud you can practically hear a pin drop

much to your surprise, michael sits back down in the dining chair and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding

once you tell michael that the nails have (probably) dried, he slinks away to sit in the living room

you figure your work is probably gonna go to waste, but anything to have a bonding moment with michael

Danny “Jed Olsen” Johnson - Ghostface

are you fucking kidding? sign him the fuck up!

i’m not kidding, danny’ll probably start vibrating the moment you ask if you can paint his nails

he’d probably throw in a cheeky “only if you let me paint yours too dollface~.”

danny settles for either black, hot pink, or a random mixture of bright ass colors

if you don’t agree with me, have you seen this man? he is the embodiment of chaos

anyways, danny has a bit of trouble staying still during your ‘make-over night’

but if you smooth talk him into it, danny’s all ears :)

you two do indeed make small-talk to pass the time as his nails dry off

next is your turn! so you settle for something to match 

and he can and will tease you about wanting to match him

“awww, you’re makin’ me tear up sweetheart… this moment is just too adorable.”

danny is surprisingly pretty good at painting your nails, only slipping up here and there

after you two are done, danny heads out to do some “good ol’ stalking”

you figure his nails would last a good while considering the fact that danny does wear leather gloves

so your matching nails with danny are a win-win! <3

Herman Carter - The Doctor

absolutely not. 

herman immediately shuts down your proposal

he means nothing of it, it’s just with the amount of work he does, he’d hate to see your work and time to go to waste

trust me, they’re not bound to last even a day or two

if you keep mentioning painting his nails, it will irritate him

herman would simply stare at you as you speak, exhaling loudly through his nose before turning away

when and if you get the chance to paint his nails, herman settles for a royal blue

he’d explain why, but the mouthpiece on his face prevents him from doing so

afterwards, herman tries his best to not chip or break the paint off

but with who knows how many volts of electricity shooting out from his hands, that’s a pretty hard task

oh well, no matter, herman supposes he can always go back to you so you can repaint his nails

[find-the-devil]

II. I Tend a Garden

Ennis drew open the blinds. By now the sun had risen and warmed the earth. Swirls of heat rose from the dirt and distorted the air in the most minute, nearly imperceptible ways, like dragging a wet paintbrush through a small spot of watercolor paint, pulling the delicate pigment across the paper. Insects clung to the cool windows and mice cowered for shade amongst the garden plants, gorging themselves on watery vegetables, cucumbers, tomatoes and the like. This was the patch of farm he left for the wilderness, that he tended to for the animals that belonged to nature. His own food was grown on the other side, facing the cornfield. Blackberry bushes grew on their own by the low shoulder that divided his territory from that of the thousands of green stalks. 

Ennis cracked open a window, letting the chilled air that had clung to his walls join the heat outside. The breeze breathed balmy wind into the room which tousled the curtains. It brought in the scent of wheat and earth and smoke from a fire that had not ravaged but simply burned, impotent upon a stick and unable to claim the field. 

He turned from the window, moving across cherrywood floors with bare feet that padded quietly to the poplar chair, smooth, ivory, like bone in the light, and contrasted against the red wood on which it rested. Robin lied opposite from him, laying with legs propped up by the armrest of the couch, covered by a thin, dusty orange throw, his short grey hair peeking out from underneath, shoes ruined and a pebblish-colored coat that clung to his skin from sweat. The fabric was thin and reached just past his mid-thighs. 

Ennis took the mask set out on the table at his side, next to an untouched glass of water and affixed it to his face as the man began to stir, disturbed by the change in brightness and now vividly aware of the pain in his older joints. He hissed loudly, bending over and clutching his knees, righting himself properly before the man who sat still and observed him, leaning in, hunched and curious and silent. 

“So this is all your shit, then.” Robin spoke loudly, in a mix of disbelief and inconvenience, eyes squinted slightly and brow furrowed in confusion. He gestured vaguely to unfamiliar surroundings, his body regretting the motion instantaneously. The man in front of him gave him one nod, slow and earnest, shifting slightly where he sat, clasping his hands in front of his knees. “You know, people think you’re a ghoul, something occult and eerie. Spiritual types think you’re the Devil.” Robin added. 

“People think I’m you.” the man countered, a simple statement, tilting his head to the side as if prompting something out of the man in front of him. 

“Well, they do now.” Robin sighed, wincing slightly as he leaned back into the soft couch cushions. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No one gets that I was by the last body 'cause I was investigating it, as the town’s only detective?” he shook his head in a kind of mirthless disbelief as he stared out of the window above the kitchen sink. 

“You retired. I get the town paper, you know.” Ennis corrected, leaning over to pick up the old newspaper under a discarded cup of coffee. Robin fell silent. He felt unsettled not by the stranger himself, but by his own lack of discomfort. The man was perfectly neighborly, he wore a white mask, affixed to his head with thick black straps, blood still stained the bottoms of his nails and eyes observing him without wasted movement, and considerate having given him not only a place to sleep but a glass of water and a blanket. 

“Yeah, I got real tired of everyone in town having my home number and calling it liberally.” Robin replied, mostly muttering, absently checking the phone in his pocket for missed calls and messages. “Dead.” he said, with a quick gesture to the black screen, mostly for himself.  Fatigue had racked his brain too voraciously for him to consider the implications. 

“You quit just after the first body.” 

“I’d’ve had to bring you in myself, I didn’t know what was doing… that but I had a feeling it was a good deal stronger than me. I was right.” he shrugged, giving a small nod to the man’s defined shoulders and thick arms before turning his attention to the window. “You can find a ‘who’ with one body, but you can only get a ‘why’ from more.”

“Well, then, good thing you found me how you did.” with an untold story of 'different circumstances' behind his words. Ennis stood up, and the red floorboards creaked. He stretched his back and shoulders like a brawler gearing up for a fight, yet instead of a fist Robin was offered an outstretched hand. “I’ll show you the garden. The grass will be light on your feet.”

The back porch looked over the cornfield, it swayed en masse with a breeze he couldn’t feel, moving to an earth rhythm humans weren’t privy to. The coniferous trees that bordered the field held themselves with a stillness unbecoming of the motion below. The stalks were bright green under the afternoon sun that beamed, hot on the soil, and cast the back of Ennis’ house into cooler shade from atop its high perch above. Robin’s senses were struck by a contradictory smell. Wildflowers, many, of different species and colors and aromas growing together from a brownish mass that lay stiff in the dirt, still clad in mucked up overalls. 

“After a while, the earth uses it entirely, all that’s left are the clothes. I wash them, repurpose them…” Ennis offered, leaning down to lift a strap of the body’s clothes with his index, insects crawling onto his arms as he did so. He brushed them off as if without having noticed their presence in the first place. The acrid smell that had intertwined itself with lavender and sweet alyssums emitted from the gaping, fleshy, rotting orifice they’d rooted themselves inside. “The soil handles the blood first, rich in nutrients, hydrating too.” the man continued explaining, patting the dirt close to the body. 

“You’d think you're selling fertilizer.” Rob interjected. 

“That’s what it is. Nature is an autocannibal, detective, she creates life to feed off of it. She’s self-sufficient. I like that.”

“Then what's with the new catch, this one looks…” he trailed off, unsure what qualifier to use. 

“His family told me he’s got a blood condition when I saw them in town. Everyone was having a wake, ‘taken too young’. He lived longer than anyone would’ve thought.”

“Is mother nature a picky eater?” Rob asked, jesting lightly as he adjusted to the scent and leaned in by Ennis to look at the life growing and thriving from the open wound. 

“No, but I am. The thought of eating sickle cell bugged me, can’t explain it.” he returned as he rose to his feet with a grunt and looked over the sunny patch of grass with eyes squinting into slits as the sun shifted in the sky and the shadows stretched in kind. 

“D’you cook the game you catch?” Robin enquired as he suddenly began to sober up to his situation. He checked his phone again. Dead. 

“Not the people. I’m no cannibal, detective. I tend a garden. I eat what comes from it. The meat I hunt is that of fox and deer.” he replied, replacing an errant support next to one of his plants. 

“Would I make a decent planter?” Robin asked, leaning on the side of the house for support as his shin bones shot waves of pain. His expression turned gravely cool, almost taunting with his calm “You know I’m no good for running.” his voice rang deep in his sternum bone.  

“I couldn’t say.” Ennis replied, with a slight grunt as he stood, facing him now with arms crossed in front of his chest. “You’re wiry, fit enough for a guy your age.” 

“I’m going to be your replacement for the new one,” he gestured with uncertainty for where the body would be kept “Wherever he is, once he’s just a pile of flannel?” he inquired again, no fear in his voice, but casual, as if asking for the time. The man in front of him tilted his head to the side, back an inch, sizing him up with his inscrutable eyes, squinting from the light and confusion, shifting the arms folded at his chest. 

“No, detective. You’re free to stay a while, if you’d like. They won’t find you here. They haven’t found me.”  Ennis’ voice turned grim, almost cooling the air, soundless. A swallow flew from tree to tree, the leaves twisting and toiling affixed to their branches, shimmering with an unknown breeze. Birds twittered and spoke to one another, and pollen floated lazily past the garden on a warm current. Clouds drifted like tanker ships far away, from their spacious blue sea in the sky. The sun hung over the house, and light crept closer to the back porch, illuminating blades of grass, turning them a lively green. Stalks some yards away swayed and twitched as a fox unseen ran through them, chasing a hare unknown. 

“When you’re all healed up, come hunting.” Ennis offered, testing the limits of the man’s collected view of a life he knew others saw as vile and evil.  

“I don’t think that’s my kind of passtime, and I’m no good with a rifle.” Rob admitted, sternness to his voice. 

“Our only lawman can’t handle a gun?” The other said, disbelief almost cutting through his cold tone. He shifted his on his feet.  

“The townsfolk who took me in accepted my technical smarts as a forgivable substitute for sharp shooting.” he winced slightly on ‘forgivable’ and paused “Circumstances being that there were no other offers and most people still wanted a detective. Not that they take any of my work to heart, they just chalk it up to the supernatural and tell me it’s out of my hands.” he finished. 

“I don’t kill with a bullet, either, not as… direct.” Ennis spoke factually. Robin sat in the grass, some feet away from the cluster of gardens, four or five of the bodies lined some distance away from the house itself. 

“Why not animals? One deer, or a lot of foxes, are bigger, more room for plant growth and less work." Rob asked. It all seemed like a wasteful system. The man’s ecological motives were not his sole reasons for his methods; madness lay in the works as well, it churned the gears of his reasoning, but his firm, rugged demeanor and stern, confident appearance and a bizarre personability lent a rational sense to his words.  

“I’ll take you on The Hunt. It’s some time away. You’ve gotten blood on your hands, but never like this.”

[menacingdino]

Claws

[ao3]

The words Ginger’s Nail Salon beam in a bright pink lush font, it was really the last place Eddie thought he would find himself in.

But ever since they moved towards the big city Robin had been getting acrylics done (excluding some fingers). They really were fun, and she seemed to love them. getting intricate designs and tapping every nearby object with them.

Although Eddie said he could never. He’s a simple man, and Corroded Coffin had been getting some gigs in the city. A short break from guitar? Eddie might as well be dead.

But nonetheless, he was staring at the bright pink words after being convinced.

“This guy, Steve,” Robin says like it’s the most interesting name ever and not very average.

“He’s amazing. Even if you don’t get nails, you should at least just get a basic manicure, short nails. And you can watch my other fav, Jada, do mine!” Robin says giddily like they’re planning a girls night out. They kind of are.

So Eddie agrees. He’ll just get them painted black or something to make Robin happy.

Or that’s what he thinks until they walk in and Eddie hears her say,

“Hey Steve! Give my friend over here some daggers!” Robin shouts making Eddie almost embarrassed until he realizes that this is expected of Robin and the guy, Steve, nods politely at an empty station.

Eddie frantically shakes his head and hands trying to get a word in whilst Robin ignores and drags him over.

“Well well well!” Steve says looking Eddie over in a very interesting way. His nails are long with sharp points at the end, glittery pink. Part of Eddie wishes he had the confidence to do this sooner.

I mean, he has confidence with most things; take one look at him. And being in Indianapolis in the 90’s, he’s become somehow even gayer. But the nails still kind of scare some deep part of him; by now he had seen a couple of men with them. Yet he’s not used to it at all.

So he nervously chews his lip and avoids Steve’s eyes.

“So is your friend new to acrylics?” Steve assumes, and Eddie’s not offended. Robin nods with a ‘very.’ “Okay! That’s fine.” Steve smiles at Eddie the whole time, talking to him like he’s a lost puppy; and it’s very comforting.

“Come, sit down, darling I don’t bite.” He taps his nails against the desk and Eddie quickly sits opposite him. He’s suddenly getting the Steve appeal.

“So by any chance do you have a design in mind? A shape, a length?” Eddie, bouncing his leg just shyly shakes his head.

“I’m sorry this— uh, this wasn’t really planned.. Like at all. And I’ve never had nails and uh I’m kind of..“ Eddie’s stumbling over his words and he just gives up on the last sentence and sighs. Steve gives him an empathetic pout.

“Oh, honey, it’s fine. Today’s been slow. And I like anyone who Robin likes so much.” This eases Eddie’s anxiety a little. “Now,” Steve pulls out a big book that thumps onto the table. “Here’s some references.”

Steve flips through the pages showcasing the different lengths, shapes, and past designs. Eddie’s eyes get pulled to a coffin shaped set with flames on the tips and a cross on the ring finger. This past client has taste.

So Eddie goes ‘ooo!’ and points like a child seeing an elephant at the zoo. Steve smirks and Eddie can hear him mumble ‘sounds about right’.

“But, just a little shorter. My first time and all.” Steve nods grabbing his kit and pulling colors off the shelf.

He begins with a little hand massage with oils, mostly focused at Eddie’s nails and cuticles; he’s surprised, eyebrows raised at the luxury, this makes Steve smile for the hundredth time. His cheeks will start hurting soon.

Eddie glanced over at Robin, getting her nails filed. They share secret looks that mean ‘wow this is fancy’ and ‘damn he’s cute’ which makes Robin’s jaw drop and Eddie tries to signal to shut up and calm down.

Steve watched the whole thing with furrowed eyebrows and a couple chuckles.

Steve started applying the acrylic, “I still don’t know your name. It feels unfair.” He teases.

“Oh. Eddie, my name’s Eddie.” Steve’s eyebrow quirks at the nickname. It’s got personality, I mean obviously he doesn’t expect him to go by Edward but it says something.

“Hm. Well you already know my name; Steve. Very exciting.” He says smiling at Eddie.

“Well Robin sure made it sound exciting. I think I get the hype.” Eddie tilts his head at Steve. Eddie would later realize the crazy unconscious flirting he was doing.

Steve kind of bites his lip. Oh god he bites his lip.

“I think I get the Eddie hype, too.”

“There’s lots more where that came from.” Eddie winks at Steve and he sees blush. Unfortunately Robin witnessed and Eddie sees her cringe viscerally.

Eddie has a hand curing and Steve thinks, wanting to find more to ask this alluring stranger.

“So, do you play an instrument? I noticed um, the callous on your hands.” This man is really making Steve nervous and wearing down his charm. But Eddie is amazed anyway and seems excited by the observation.

“Yeah! Guitar. Love it. Mostly electric.”

“Ooo. I’d love to see you play sometime.” The tooth rottingly sweet smile hits Eddie hard.

“Well you’re making that pretty hard, Stevie.” He says wiggling the fingers in his other hand. The nickname surprises them both. “But, um, yeah when I get these off my band Corroded Coffin should get back to our typical bar gigs. I could give you the details as they come.”

“Oh, I’d love that!” Steve mutters a little ‘actuallyy’ as he twists and pulls out a piece of paper, writing fast. He slides it across the table. A number. Steve says nothing and bites his lip again.

“Well, the nails are done!” Steve exclaims and Eddie can barely believe it. The time flew, and god who knew fake nails could be so badass?

“Dude, I love these! Shit, you’re talented!” Steve is overjoyed and he squeals along with Robin.

“Thank you so much guys! Come again anytime.” Steve smiles only a little bit back in corporate mode.

They start walking away as Robin flexes her green nails with pink flowers to Eddie before they hear one last thing.

“I like your bandana, by the way!” Steve shouts as they’re by the door and he’s fidgeting at his desk.

Eddie can’t even handle this.

“Well thank you, big boy!” He drags it out and slyly leaves with a grin.

He’ll be getting his nails done much more often.

[starg1rlie]

if ur fine with it 💍w/scara? my personality is pretty meh imo, im mostly extroverted and very talkative. if i’m honest i’m pretty ambitious with a lot of things and i’m very self disciplined according to my close relatives and friends. also i’m pretty confident in myself but not overly confident to the point i’ll start doing the most stupidest things. i also believe im well organized so i’ll freak tf out if everything is a mess (one time i had a mental breakdown bc i forgot to clean my room before going to school). also i’m pretty rude on a surface level, since i unintentionally insult people right in front of them. though with closer friends im very gentle n kind with them, i’ll show a lot of affection to them even in public. that’s mostly it so now moving to the hobby parts, personally i don’t think i have one? since mostly i’m studying, but if i do have free time i’ll either make plans with friends or play video games. i do have a little talent for the piano, i’m pretty mid at it but i can play a few songs. mostly i don’t have time to explore hobbies since i have extracurricular activities and studying💔 + some stuff wit my personality i forgot to add. whenever i pursue something i’m definitely not gonna take any break until i’m close to achieving it :)

(mb if i didn't pay much attention to your personality traits/hobbies, i was simply busy thinking of little things the two of you would do. i hope i incorporated enough to satisfy you, and make up for how long it took me to push out this post...)

pushing him in a shopping cart

at first, he protests. a lot. but he’ll get into the cart eventually, only because you’d bug him for the next week or so if he didn't. lowkey has to hold onto the side of the cart because you’re definitely going to go zooming down the aisles. he’s the one who grabs the stuff while you’re just having the time of your life. y’all get called out by the employees later but it was worth it :)

helping him paint his nails black bc he's going thru an emo phase

scaramouche does not see the appeal of bright colors. he himself prefers black, white, and grey, which are all simple and monotonous colors. like him/j. which is probably why his wardrobe looks like it went through the black and white snapchat filter. he even paints his nails black, or, well, attempts to. his adoptive little sister, qiqi, paints her nails black as well, because she wants to be like gege too. you end up painting both of their nails some of the time, and then yall post pics of you guys flaunting your nails like "don't mess with the emo bitches."

holding hands on the bus together

since your school is far, and most definitely not walking-distance, your friendly little neighbor (yall live in the same neighborhood) and you end up walking and waiting at the bus stop quite often, unless scaramouche's mom isn't too occupied with her girlfriend to drive him to school. you'll purposely sit next to him, just to piss him off, which works, but he'll take your hand in his anyways. if you breathe a word about it to anyone, though, he'll murder you.

cooking/baking (burning the house down) and failing miserably at it

he takes after his mum (ei), so i wouldn't suggest letting this emo boy within six feet of a stove or oven. of course, you ddin't know how bad it was until the two of you attempted to bake a birthday cake for his sister, qiqi. everything was going smoothly (minus the eggshells in the cake batter) until someone forgot to look after the oven. the cake (obviously) was ruined, burned black and was as hard as a brick. still, you had to make do with what you had, and scaramouche did some pretty decent icing work, even though qiqi refused to eat it, saying it'd break her teeth. another time, the two of you attempted to make a simple stir-fry, and apparently, scaramouche didn't understand that you had to stir slowly and carefully so that the food inside wouldn't spill out...you two ended up cleaning cabbage and chicken off of the stove for the rest of the night.

babysitting his (adoptive) sister qiqi

since ei is often busy at work and with her new girlfriend (pretty woman, her name's yae miko), scaramouche often finds himself looking after qiqi on his own. she doesn't really bug him while he's doing his homework, thankfully, but he does feel a tiny bit bad about leaving her with nothing to do. that's your cue. he'd call you to come over, and the two of you will probably just watch movies, play sorry or monopoly (scaramouche always seems to get bumped back or in jail), and stuff your faces with the chocolate ice cream in the fridge, even though ei specifically said no chocolate for qiqi. but rules were meant to be broken, no? and besides, he had to spoil his little sister some of the time, didn't he?

neat. 👏 freak. 👏 couple.

i swear, yall are a couple of fucking neat freaks (no offense). there ain't a spick of dust or a single pencil out of place in your guys' rooms and it CREEPS. ME. OUT. ahem, anyways. if your room (or his) ended up becoming dirty (which would probably never really happen to you, more on his side anyways), he'd probably help clean it up, but its mostly just you two vibing to the spotify playlist he set up.

he'll listen to you play the piano

whenever he's not busy, he'll pull up a seat next to you and just, quietly watch you play. he never comments about it, but if qiqi is in the same room, she'll clap her hands together slowly. she's actually quite fond of your piano music, and will probably ask you to teach 'gege' so he can teach her.

ngl, you probably insulted him

i'm not even gonna mince words here. you probably insulted him on his first day at your school. "damn, what happened to your horomones?" he glared at you and said that not all guys got the best of the gene pool. your day-to-day interactions with him at school has probably been mostly just you talking down on him and him just shooting insults right back at you 💀

he has to deal with you overworking yourself

he'll find you, laid out on your table, with exam papers spread out under your arms, snoring like a beast (no offense if you don't snore like that, or you don't snore at all-) and will gently place a blanket over you, along with a chaste forehead kiss. "the only reason you get better grades than me is because you overwork yourself so much," he'll murmur under his breath as he quickly finishes off whatever project or homework assignment you'd been working on.

matching bunny hats (yk, the ones w/the floppy ears <33)

he finds them ridiculous at first, but qiqi grew fond of them, and eventually, she was able to get him onboard about it. of course, you have to take a few (a lot of) photos, and even post a cute lil' couples tiktok of the two of you guys' ears flopping up in sync <33

[pulchritudinous-plants]

pottery

ive decided to start posting some of the short writing pieces ive done for Kingdom Keepers over the years. they’re all based off a random word generator (in this case ‘pottery’) and then i pick a random number one through seven to figure out how many characters im using. there’s a few of these already written, though if you’d like you can send in a prompt. the goal is for none of these to be shippy, simply focusing on the keepers friendships and personal lives and i write only until im bored.

Jelly wasn't neat when she worked. Glaze always ended up in her hair and clay was always on her clothes. She’d forget to push her sleeves up and leave them dripping with water from the sink. Her fingernails were almost always stained from oxides.

It was something Maybeck loves about his aunt, just how much she loves her work. She throws herself into it fully, the throwing and slip casting; firing and glazing.

When he’d first come to live with Jelly, face still round with baby fat and not even out of elementary school, he’d been apprehensive. He loved Jelly; had always spent hours whiling away the day in the back rooms painting on pottery shards she couldn’t sell. But it was so different to be surrounded by it all 24/7.

Jelly always got up early to tend to the kilns, restock the bisque wear, and set up shop. She’d be up late doing budget work, figuring out what she had to cut now that she had another mouth to feed.

He’d lived with her for months before she showed him the pottery wheel out back. She didn’t have as much time for it anymore, she had told him. But she showed him the steps; told him he was free to make whatever he wanted.

“We can glaze it and keep it if you want to. Or you can smash it. It’s up to you,”

And so he’d donned a smock and slammed down a ball of clay, already envisioning the giant vases and pitchers he’d be making in no time.

Except, it turned out, throwing on the wheel was hard. Like, really hard. It looked so simple when Jelly did it, experienced hands shaping the clay into a cup in minutes. His first piece that makes it off the wheel is a cup too wide to hold easily with too large of a rim to actually drink from. He glazes it bright blue and gives it to Jelly. She uses it every morning for juice and some nights for wine and says it's the best she’s ever seen.

But it’s nice, to create, even when it does end with him smashing a piece that cracked in the kiln. The slight grit of the clay under his hands, the anticipation of putting a glazed piece into the kiln- how the color would change, how the clay would warp and shrink.

So he keeps working. And he smashes up more pieces than he fires, and there are times when he wants to tear his hair out because he’d just trimmed through the bottom of a pot again, but he keeps going.

Jelly teaches him more as he got older. How to load the kiln, how to properly mix glaze; how to take the wet mush in the reclaim bucket and turn it back into reusable clay. She even takes him down to a lake one day, gathering natural clay just off the banks, and teaches him how to make it usable.

Shelves fill up with his work slowly, though he never gets to pick what goes on display. Jelly always picks pieces that are imperfect, glazes that are patchy and cups that wobble, heavy bottom pots that only barely survive the firing, and slab boxes with uneven seams.

He gives out his work to his friends, on birthdays and holidays and just because days, feigning indifference at their appreciation, acting like he hasn’t spent weeks thinking of what they’d actually use, things that couldn’t be picked up at some store. And he pretends it doesn’t make him grin when he sees Philby using a mug he’s made for tea; Charlene picking out the perfect plant for the new pot he’s given her.

His hands turn dry, clay leaching the moisture out of them. He has lotion on him wherever he goes, something citrus scented that reminds him of the orange groves near Lake Louisa. He keeps his nails cut so short they sometimes hurt and yet still clay ends up wedged between the skin. Clay dust covers his Converse turning them dingy and grey.

He’s never quite as messy as Jelly, keeps his hair pulled out of the way religiously, glaze on his fingertips but never jeans, but he certainly isn’t neat.

He teaches classes at the youth center after the cruise. Uses his DHI money to make sure it's free for anyone who wants it; pays out of pocket for the clay and glazes. He’s not as good as Jelly, not at the throwing or the teaching, but he likes it. He likes to watch the kid's emotions come out in the clay, the joy when a piece finally centers; the relief when it comes out of the kiln unharmed, the frustration when prized pieces crack at the last firing.

And when he’s applying for art schools he fills his portfolio with his best work. Large vases with sgraffito flowers, raku tea sets with feathers burned into the surface, deceptively simple speckled plates that took him months to get right. But he also adds the blue cup, right at the end, stained slightly after near ten years of use, and titles it “A Study in Progress”.

And when he’s accepted into every school he applies to Jelly cries and hugs him and he cries a little too if he’s being honest. And when Jelly gets out the cup and pours him a drink in celebration (which he spills half on himself, because, really, it's not a very functional thing), he thinks, for the first time, that he could do this. Art as a career, not just a hobby. For all his bravado and bluster, the fear of being told his art isn’t good enough, that he isn’t good enough, has been all consuming since he sent out his applications. He doesn’t understand how Willa and Philby are keeping it together waiting for their Ivy league applications to get back to them.

He doesn’t know which school he’ll go to yet: he’s leaning towards California, but Cranbrook and Alfred both have such amazing programs that he knows he’s going to have to think about it. There’s pros and cons to each, he’s sure, namely the distance from Jelly and the closeness to Charlene, but scholarships definitely will influence his decision. He’s got months until final decisions need to be made.

So for now he sits with Jelly, whose forehead is streaked with apple green glaze, planning the best way to nonchalantly tell the Keeper group chat that he got accepted in a way that warrants congratulations and possibly some of Mrs Whitman’s cookies but doesn’t sound like he’s asking for any of it, and breathes.

[hueshiftersofficial]

Hue Shifters Fashion Posts: Saffron Seville

And for the last of the main characters’ fashion posts, we have Saffron’s! His style is perhaps the most casual and simplest next to Hyacinth’s, but he still has fun with it in his own ways. I hope you enjoy! :3

(The previous ones: Hyacinth, Azure, Coral, Maris)

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Saffron’s style can be described as casual, comfy, but with a sort of grunge aesthetic to it with some outfits. Graphic t-shirts, striped long-sleeve shirts, a few plain t-shirts in solid dark colors, both zip-up and pullover hoodies, formal button-ups, black denim jackets, skinny joggers, and dark jeans. Most of the focal points of his outfits come from dark colors, patterns such as stripes, and layers. Doesn’t see the need to dress up too often, but when he does have to wear more nice and formal outfits he tends to clean up quite nicely. Plus, seeing as he sleeps during the day as he works third shift, most of the time when he gets home he just wants to change into something comfortable. Another fun little thing he likes to do is cuff his jeans so his socks are showing, as he always liked that look. For footwear, he mainly only wears sneakers, but he does have a couple of pairs of heeled ankle-boots.

For colors, he prefers a mostly dark and neutral palette, mainly black or dark gray, not really liking anything too light or bright unless he has some black to balance it out. As his clan’s signature color is orange, he tends to wear this color most often as a “statement” color, liking darker and burnt shades the most but he does have a couple of pieces in lighter and reddish-orange shades as well. Doesn’t have a preference when it comes to textures in his outfits, but he in general prefers soft fabrics. His family is more so middle-class compared to his cousin Coral’s family being more high-class, so most of his clothes were either bought from thrift stores or discount department stores.

For accessories, he actually does enjoy wearing a few. Loves chokers, owning mostly simple ones but he does have one circle one. Does have a few longer but simple iron necklaces, iron chain necklaces, black leather or beaded bracelets, a couple iron chains to attach to his belt loops, and his class ring, in terms of other accessories he tends to wear. Has a few ear piercings, with him usually only wearing small and thin hoops.

For his hair, he keeps it short with it just barely going past his ears, with it being slightly curly naturally but also a bit messy-looking. Doesn’t see a reason why he would need to do his hair, but for some formal events he will at least gel it back so it’s out of his face. He never had to deal with acne as a teenager, but he still makes sure to wash his face when taking a shower. Doesn’t really wear makeup, but he does like wearing eyeliner to make his eyes look ‘sharper’. Doesn’t consistently file his nails so they could be any length at any time, but they are sharp and he does like painting them with simple black polish, not minding if it gets chipped. Does not usually like wearing cologne, but if he does than it is worn lightly and really only for special occasions.

- Some inspirations: