#the lore is self-writing

[satoruhour]

LESSON NO. 1

a/n: bassist!geto teaching you how to play the guitar. loosely based off this but not really connected. as requested by @alcospray 💟 i dont play bass so i just watched a whole bunch of videos for just one song - any bass players wanna correct me feel free to do so ;"). only if u look like geto tho /j. they havent say the three words to each other yet, read it with that in mind :3

wc: 2.1k

“any update from your fan?” gojo nudges him playfully as they wait for the principle of the university to introduce their band for the freshmen orientation, which, weirdly, something that the four of them never thought would happen. they sang about topics that wouldn’t normally get talked about or were shunned — politics, capitalism, authoritarianism — and yet being introduced by the principle of their place of education was quite ironic.

the bassist doesn’t hear gojo at all, not even when his best friend tries to tease him by calling you his fan. there were too many things in geto’s mind way even before this whole performance: his finals, a rival band that sought out to create false rumours about them, you.

always, you, the unexpected distracting thing that infiltrates his mind without fail. from the first night you trodded over to his dorms, opening up to him and letting him take care of you, to the many dates after. he’s taken you to cafés, watched you study way too many times, or simply let you sit through one of his song formation days.

a conscious effort to keep his distance and everything is just you, you, you, and geto is terrified. he’s never liked the kind of love with strings attached, with those mushy, complicated feelings, but no one-night stand, no quick fuck has ever made him feel the way you do.

but lately, he’s seen less of you, unwillingly accepting the principle’s offer to perform for the freshmen because he knew you were one of the group leaders ushering in the new students. at least he could try to search for you in the crowds, even getting a cheeky little text about where your group was meant to sit a week ago. he could be granted at least that when you both have been working so hard for final exams that you two could hardly see each other.

although, throughout their whole set, he sees everyone but you. he loses the bass line often, looks lost on the stage, needs to be cued in, something that never happens to the geto suguru. he’s always been a natural, and yet when it comes to you, you ruin him in the best way possible.

“hey— hey! man, what was that?” gojo slaps him on the back but it doesn’t even register in geto’s head, not really bothered by how he messed up the performance if it wasn’t for gojo’s vocals and shoko adding in her own improvisations for her parts. nanami can only shrug as he comes around to geto’s front.

“she wasn’t there, i looked, too,” nanami mumbled, tapping his drumsticks on his shoulder, “but you’re the most passionate guy i know who loves his guitars and bass lines.”

gojo has to chime in, “he’s the only bass guitarist you know, nanamiii!” and shoko pulls him back with a smack to the back of his head.

the dark-haired guy only clicks his tongue, “sorry ’bout him.”

nanami waves his drumsticks before pointing them at his face, “i know you’re obsessed with her, but i don’t wanna be a drummer if i can’t work with my bassist. sort this out before our next gig. she’s a sweet girl . . just, not when it’s at the expense of the band.”

geto only sighs in relief, landing a hand on his drummer’s shoulder.

“thank you, nanami.” the two exchange smiles before he gives a salute to his other two friends (“do you think he finally loves someone enough for him to be distracted on stage?” shoko says, and gojo gasps dramatically), heading out from the wings and down the stairs at the front of the stage where people look confused at the recent performer looking high and low for where your group was meant to be seated.

he sees not you, but rather your group leader mates who he’s at least seen pictures of, so he has no qualms about heading over to ask about your whereabouts — “the last thing she told our head group leader was that she was down with a nasty flu . . terrible fever and all. our main group leader went to her dorms to check on her and she’s unfit for doing orientations activities. we just sent her loads of soup packets and pei pa koa’s.”

geto laughs at the last part, knowing your need for sweet things. when it’s combined with a soothing coating for your throat, it’s pretty much the only thing you take when you’re sick. with a quick thanks, geto races for the campus bus straight to your dorm, the bass carried on his back rattling with his capo, chord sheets and mute nosily.

at least your annoying roommate’s gone home before school starts so it’s only you when geto knocks on the door. his knuckles rap against the wood, heart breaking when he hears your hoarse voice answer from the other side. soon, he can hear your feet moving towards the door, but it takes a while from how your body is, knocking over some things in the process.

“c-coming!” you groan out, wrapped in layers of clothing and feeling so hot you feel like you were in hell. but you aren’t expecting the sight when you open the door: your boyfriend panting, the guitar case behind him only telling you he’s come straight from the freshmen gig, the expression on his face.

“s-su!” you exclaim, both excitedly and a little worried because you didn’t want to get him sick, something you regret immediately when you go to clutch your throat.

“oh, baby,” geto brushes the hoodie off your head and brushes away the mess of your hair, “you look so pale, i— i would’ve come sooner if i knew—!”

“that’s why i didn’t tell you,” you pout, pushing away his hand gently and stepping back. it hurts to speak, but you feel like you at least need to explain your absence to him, “i was afraid you’d ditch the performance. also— don’t want you to get sick.”

suguru’s expression softens, “don’t worry about me, doll. come,” he takes one more step towards you and you feel so safe with him you don’t take a step away, “let me take care of you.”

the next hours are full of geto, a revered bassist in an upcoming band who dons long hair, piercings and has a menacing dragon down his arm alongside some boots, taking care of you. he runs back and forth between the pantry to make sure you have enough hot water, boiling hot soup to drink, enough layers to keep you warm and even calling gojo to get some tylenol from the supermarket.

“take a breather, sugu, i’m not gonna die,” you laugh slightly with a rasp to your voice, squeezing his hand as you rest against his shoulder. he’s made sure you at least have something in your stomach and enough hot water to power a hot spring, worry showing through his heartbeat when the hand he holds is still so warm.

“you’re heating up loads, baby,” geto frowns, turning his head to plant a kiss on the top of your head. he rolls his eyes when he hears it’s because you’re here. “do you want me to put cool towels on your head?”

you giggle again and cough, sniffling the mucus back up your nose, “no, it’s okay — you’d have to go to the pantry again to get water and i just want . . you here.”

suguru only hums, something akin to a melody that you don’t quite know but you’re happy to listen to his gruff voice anyway. the way he vibrates as he hums sends a calming feeling right to your body, and how he looks and feels so different from the very first time you were alone together.

he seemed so cool, passing the blunt to you and blowing his smoke into your mouth, kissing you like you’re just another girl in his roster; but right now, you were far from it.

now, not only is he still cool, but he’s also the most caring person you know and is something so far from his appearance and band: this is just one in many instances of how much he takes care of you. from the same fingers that strum upon the stainless steel, they travel miles over your body, your face like the first songs he learned on the guitar, weaving a melody and language so intricate only the two of you speak it.

silently, you feel him push you forward while he slots his legs on the other side of your body, letting you naturally rest with your back to his chest. “wanna learn?”

“i am in the most terrible state, suguru,” you whisper, reaching over to take a tissue. there, you blow your nose and clear out your nostrils until the next round, groaning softly at the grossness of the tissue.

“ohh . . but wasn’t someone saying that she isn’t dying?”

your jaw drops, “i can’t believe you would use that against me.”

the corners of your boyfriend’s lips turn up in a sly smile, “just quoting my girl. but—”

this time, he’s the one reaching over much further than you, hand clutching the neck of the guitar through the bag. gently, he settles it on both your laps, laughing when a small oof leaves your lips at just how heavy his bass was.

“i’ll do all the playing, you just mirror my movements.” with one more kiss to your temple, geto reaches around easily to play the starting notes of psycho killer. while there’s a clear layering of the lead, vocals and drums in his head, you’re just left confused by the repetitive bass.

but soon, you’re able to catch the notes that repeat over eight counts, hypnotised by the other’s longer fingers as they transition into the chorus line. it’s a little more complicated, now, descending into chords that you frankly don’t have any grasp on. one look at your face is enough to send him into soft laughter.

“okay, okay, let’s just focus on the verse.” if you weren’t feeling lightheaded from the fever before, you are now when geto curls his hands around yours, placing your finger easily on the fifth fret of the first string.

“so here . . we have the first bar of A notes, easy? then . .” he demonstrates the first four notes, plucking the strings for you before moving it down to the third fret to play the G note. a small smile spreads across his face when you slowly get the hang of it: six notes of A, two eighth notes, and then a G on the same string. geto slowly releases his left, letting you play on the melody while he helps you to pluck.

“that’s it,” still natural, it doesn’t faze geto at all to nuzzle his head into your neck from behind and to start kissing up your shoulder to your jaw, fingers still expertly plucking the string. the both of you repeat the bass line until he’s grabbing your awkward right hand and quietly, he angles your fingers so you’re following him, “you’re a fast learner.”

“i have a great teacher,” you mumble, and suguru doesn’t tell you that you just willingly kissed his jaw out of habit — because he knows you’d freak out at the possibility of getting him sick. it’s sweet, that in your delirious state you’re still acting out of admiration at the back of your mind. like the bass, loving geto feels as natural as the repetitiveness of psycho killer.

the bass notes reverberates through your bodies, just almost acting like a trance that makes your fingers falter upon the steel strings. he goes on to slowly play the chorus, stretching his fingers into weird shapes. he plays various chords, voice cracking just a bit when he tries to sing the vocals and you laugh softly.

“i just don’t have satoru’s higher register.” geto jokes, knowing you’re close to falling asleep from the way you hum and give one worded answers, so he easily takes over from you, changing it to an easy song. you let the low notes of the bass serenade you to sleep as you curl more into your boyfriend, but not before you hear a glimpse of geto’s harmonised singing to yellow.

it’s not often you hear him sing, being a bassist and all, but there is a nice edge to his voice — not quite made for vocals but you know he can do it if he tries. and even if you don’t voice it out, geto thinks the same thing. it’s similar to this stupid love thing that’s got him all tangled up and distracted, too, and he realises so many new things about himself through you.

you give love a fresh breath of life, nothing like the things suguru sings about in his unfinished demos and notebooks — multitude of things that involved you and his fucked-up perceptions and the foolishness of his parents telling him he’d find the same. you are all he thinks about when he sees the black cough syrup and he can’t stop craving the feel of your body against his.

the moment your breathing turns even and you sag against his embrace is when the strings stops and his breathing escalates. in geto suguru’s arms is the personification of something he never thought he would let into his life, yet you carry the choirs of love and acceptance so effortlessly like heath’s bass guitar solos and atsushi sakurai’s spotless vocals.

suguru’s head simply falls onto your unknowing shoulder, a small fuck that leaves his lips and a smile that he can’t contain is all he needs to know.

@mysugu @suget @slttygeto @na-t0 💟

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 3 ]

{☆} characters neuvillette, wriothesley, furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ]

Wriothesley was not a man of superstition. He did not kneel at the altars until his knees bled, he did not pray until his voice gave out– he did not, contrary to popular belief, suffer divine punishment for his apparent lack of respect.

After all, what Divine would look so deep beneath the waves just for a glimpse of the sinners that inhabit it?

Not them, evidently.

He hadn't slept in the past four days, though. There was a heavy air of something where ever he walked– it followed him like a thick fog, lingering and choking him until it dragged him to his knees like a chain. His thoughts inevitably linger on the striking, extravagant letter so conveniently adorning his desk at the fortress– the broken wax seal, the letter tucked into his pocket.

He'd recognize the seal of the Iudex any day. Wasn't often he spoke to him– but the shaky, distorted words hastily etched into the paper made him pause. Neuvillette always had a steady hand– elegant, flowing script that him of flowing water.

It had kept him up for days.

The implications were..haunting. He'd poured over the letter for hours, illuminated only by faint light of his desk lamp. Yet no matter how many times he tries to see what must be hidden beneath the ink, the paper itself even, he finds nothing but the shaky script of a request that sends a bolt of pure frost through his veins.

He noticed, of course, the odd goings on of Fontaine. He'd heard vague whispers of the Divine's hunt for the imposter– he'd heard, too, of the ceaseless rain pelting Fontaine until even he wondered if the nation would finally sink beneath the waves.

It didn't, though. And that only made it all the more odd. Days of constant rain, just for it to stop suddenly..he tugged his coat tighter around him, throwing up the hood of the cloak clasped even tighter over it with a grunt as he leaned around the corner of the alleyway.

He didn't believe in superstition, but this was too hard to ignore as a simple weather anomaly.

Maybe that was why he ignored his gut– he knew that this was probably a trap, at the very least it was suspicious. But damn it, he couldn't ignore the instinct to follow the only lead he had.

His boots clicked against the rain stricken streets as he stalked through the shadows, mindful of the clinking of machine patrols just a few streets away. Yet every step felt heavier then the last as he took a long, good look at the Palais Mermonia. He almost considered bringing out his gauntlets, but he thought better of it– if it came down to it, he needed information. And he would need whoever was waiting for him alive for that– the dead don't speak and all that.

The letter's directions led him in a..rather roundabout entrance to a secluded room, evidently, as he lifted his hand and quietly knocked against the door. Two rapid knocks, pause, another knock, pause, four knocks. It doesn't take long until he hears the latch of the door unlock.

The leather of his gloves creaks as he clenches his fists, adjusting his stance. He's ready for a fight, if he must, but as the door quietly slides open he feel the weight on his shoulders relax slightly– the familiar, sharp features of Neuvillette meets him. He almost reflexively smiles at the way his pupils turn into thin slits, a momentary surprise that he quickly hides well behind a cough and the creak of the door as he pulls it open fully.

"Wriothesley. I see my letter has found you well. Please, come in." Polite as ever, Neuvillette steps aside to let him in, but he can see the exhaustion lining his features– the bags under his eyes aren't as well hidden as he thinks, at least to him. "Bit odd to be inviting me all the way out here in the middle of the night, don't you think?"

His tone is smooth as he steps into the room, brushing down his hood and glancing at Neuvillette over his shoulder, watching as he shuts and locks the door behind him.

"I apologize for the..less then ideal circumstances, but I'm certain you will understand when you see for yourself." He wants to retort, but the Iudex beats him to it, vaguely motioning to the room behind him. An invitation– but he wonders if it's worth taking.

His gut says no, but he's feeling a little risky today, he supposes.

He turns back slowly, barely able to make out the two figures he'd missed on the first glance on the other side of the room– though it's hard to mistake the flourish of the Hydro Archon, even in the dark. It's the other figure that makes the breath hitch in his throat, though.

Or maybe, more accurately, it freezes. So does his blood, his whole body even, locked in stasis for a long, tense moment– he can't see them clearly, but his instincts are going haywire. He can feel his vision almost rattle where it rests against his left shoulder, cold leaking through the layers of clothes and into his skin until he has to fight to suppress a shiver.

He'd always fancied himself the hunter– he was the one who dealt with unsavory folks, in the end. But he felt like a rabbit pinned beneath the crosshairs of a gun this time. He could almost feel the teeth of the bear trap snapping shut around him, crushing bone and flesh beneath cold metal.

For a long moment he thinks he feels fear.

And with a sharp click and a burst of light, it's gone and he takes a raspy, choked breath as he blinks away the blurriness in his vision, taking in the room illuminated by the lamp.

He's not sure what he sees is better, though.

Because his body knows that their Divinity is as real as the blood running through his veins.

So why do they remind him so much of himself? Why does he see the look of the boy who died in a pool of blood not his own in them?

It is a sick, cruel kind of familiar.

Wriothesley didn't believe in superstition– but that was born of the unknown. He knew, now. He could reach out and touch the truth with his own two hands.

The throne of the world was a lie.

The thing sitting on it bled red. And if it bled, it could die.

He clenched his fists tighter– and released, letting his shoulders slump with a huff and a half hearted chuckle. "I wasn't expecting you to be in possession of a wanted criminal when you sent me that letter." He could see the gears whirring in their heads, the subtle dampness in the air reminding him just how delicate a situation it truly was.

He wasn't particularly inclined to getting blasted by a jet of water today.

"Relax, I'm not going to spill to anyone else. Seriously– don't get my jacket wet. It's expensive and a nightmare to dry." His lips quirk into a half smile, but it twists into something almost genuine at the laugh covered up by a cough he hears from the Divine. Bingo.

"It's fine, Neuvillette. Let him go." Their voice is like honey dripping from their lips, and he has to close his jaw with his hand before they can see the way it dropped in his surprise. "Of course, most Divine. My apologies." He relaxes at the sharp click of his heels as he joins them on the bed, his posture far more relaxed then he's ever seen. The Hydro Archon, much to his confusion and amusement, is far too invested in playing with their hair to pay much attention to him now that things have calmed, evidently.

Huh.

They seemed pretty cozy about it, he noted. He guesses they three of them had some time to get acquainted.

"So..who's going to explain what the hell is going on?" He probed, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the three carefully– they all looked tired, but even through the exhaustion neither seemed inclined to stray too far from the Divine. "And what exactly your plan is? You can't keep hiding them here forever. Someone will sniff them out sooner or later."

"We are aware," Neuvillette interjects, lips pursed into a thin line and his thin brows furrowed. "But as I'm sure you've noticed, the hunt for the..forgive me, most Divine, but the hunt for the alleged imposter is still at it's peak."

He grumbles in acknowledgment, hanging up his cloak by the door and sliding out of his heavy coat, resting it over the back of a nearby chair. "Hm. Suppose that's why the patrols are so common now a days."

"I'm afraid so. As you can imagine, we cannot simply ask them to..stop the search. It would draw unwanted attention and suspicion. The Divine would be found immediately if we tried to bring them out of the city at the moment." Neuvillette added, looking proper and elegant, despite the circumstances– even in the face of the Divine and the Archon turning on him and tugging his hair into intricate braids. "So I hope you understand that it was a great risk to send you that letter."

He rubs his chin, huffing in amusement– a solid plan, maybe, but his power didn't extend too far out of the Fortress. He had his connections, sure, but what use were they when he had to get the, uh, "imposter" out of Fontaine? Smuggling them out wouldn't be easy, and then there's the point of where to take them they'd have to contend with.

"Yeah, yeah– I get it. But it's not like I can just smuggle them out or keep them in the fortress. Even if we got them out of the city, we'd have to find somewhere to bunker down, and if someone spots any of us lingering there.." Archons, what a mess he'd gotten himself into. He was really looking forward to the next time he could kick his feet up with a cup of tea.

"I understand. I have already made plans, in fact." Neuvillette hesitates, and he can feel the temperature drops a few degrees. "I..cannot share them in full at the moment, but it is not for a lack of trust." Neuvillette reasoned, hands folded neatly in his lap– not that it hid the way they shook slightly. He wanted to ask, but he thought better of it.

"Eh, I don't hold it against you. The walls have ears, even up here." He deflected, running a hand through his hair. He really hoped Sigewinne wouldn't ask too much when he gets back. "I trust your judgment." He hesitates for a long moment, pulling out a simple, neatly folded letter of his own.

"Memorize the code words, then burn it. I'll be waiting for your next letter." He murmurs, plucking his coat and cloak and tugging them back on one after another, shuffling back over to the latched door. He hesitates again, his hand lingering on the door.

"I just hope your plan is worth the risk, Neuvillette."

He leaves before he can respond, the harsh click of the door ringing in his ears even as he steps back into the shadows of the night.

[shyvien]

Here are 100 random quotes from Lucifer!

Sourced from the OM! Wiki, chats, devilgram, screenshots I found, etc. I made this list to help with studying to write the characters in character. (Not really proofread, sorry if there are mistakes. Also, there may be spoilers. If so, they’re minor spoilers)

✧༺⚜️༻✧

​​“Do you want my attention? Why don't we talk for a little then? I have enough energy for that. As your presence is so very soothing to me.“

​​“Heh, not afraid to get sassy with me anymore, are you?”

​​“Let's celebrate until you cannot stand anymore.“

​​“No need to rush. I won't be able to help you if you fall down in the middle of the street. Rather, I would probably enjoy the sight.”

​​“...Well? How do you like Demonus-flavored kisses?“

​​“I believe it's long been established that if anyone's going to be eating them, it will be me.“

​​“If you want me to keep you from running that mouth of yours, you need only ask.“

​​“Are you poking fun at me right now? I see you like to play with fire. Well, there's a punishment for getting cheeky with me like that. Come here, MC”

​​��I am exceedingly concerned…”

​​“Now Listen, and listen well. I will not be your possession. I won’t belong to you. You will belong to me.”

​​“You seem repentant, so I shall forgive you.”

​​“Are you still tired from last night? After all, I didn’t let you get much sleep.”

​​“I will watch over you. Until the day comes where we must part. And I promise... to love you until the end of your days and beyond.”

​​“You... Release me! Don't you dare try to put me to sleep like I'm not ten million years older than you!”

​​“All of you, out of the way...! I'm going to tear that human limb from limb…!”

​​"Are you trying to please me?"

​​"Do you need a goodnight kiss?"

​​"You are a strange human being."

​​"You want me to praise you for that? Very well… Good iob."

​​"Fine, I'll forgive you just this once."

​​"Do you need something?"

​​“It's as if you're saying that you need me in your life, and that's a wonderful feeling. Is it conceited of me to say that? Well, I am the Avatar of Pride, after all."

​​“Stab it with a fork or something. Anything sharp should do the trick.“

​​"I can't say I mind spending my time with you while Mammon's shrieks echo in the background either. Heh! And Diavolo's laughter is even louder than that."

​​“Well, there are worse demons it could have happened to... Probably.”

​​“Asmo, you stay right there. I'll go get my whip.“

​​“Hush now. Daddy's here to give you a hug.“

​​“NONONONONONO! I'm saying I DON'T want them to see that picture. So, if they ask you for it, I'd like you to tell them that no such photo exists. OK?”

​​“That won't be necessary. I went ahead and blew it up. The entire room.“

​​"If you want to get the better of me, that toy of yours isn't going to cut it. Perhaps try lethal poison from some horrific insect, aged a thousand years for maximum potency."

​​“I know, I know... But why don't we save the killing until after you've eaten your breakfast, hm?“

​​“Mmm, nothing's sweeter than listening to their screams of agony. Heheheh...”

​​“Bring him down to the living room. Use whatever means necessary…though I do want him alive.“

​​”I would never have imagined I would be kissed on the cheek by you. I don't dislike it when you take the initiative. But why on the cheek? You don't need to hesitate with me. Next time, do it on the lips. Understand?”

​​“Hell coffee becomes bitter when you prepare it for someone that you're fond of. It's a special property of the coffee beans. Naturally, I drank every last drop of your feelings.”

​​“Only those that haven't been involved in that dolt's childish antics are the truly happy ones.”

​​“When I get my hands on him, I'll have to be thorough with my discipline.”

​​“Tomorrow I will be handing Diavolo a report detailing how all of the exchange students are faring. I'll be sure to stress how excited you are to continue your education here at our prestigious academy.”

​​“How's the Celestial Realm? Unlike the Devildom, you don't have to worry about anyone grabbing you and eating you for lunch there, do you?”

​​“You've got Solomon with you as well, so you should relax and enjoy your time there.“

​​“If only my brothers were as obedient as you are. It is not every day that you get the chance to have me indebted to you. You can expect a one-hundred times return on the investment of your time, that I promise. In return, I expect that you won't let me down.”

​​“How naive. If you don't want me to have wasted my time by informing you, be sat in your seat at the table within the next sixty seconds. It will be just you and me. Let us enjoy the rare breakfast together before my brothers ruin the atmosphere.”

​​“Don't get cocky, MC.”

​​“One spoke at length about the clothing on the Diavolo sticker. It waxed lyrical about how exquisite the design choices were.”

​​“However, I discovered a slew of insults written in invisible ink on the page.“

​​“How could you tell? You really know me well, MC! Hehehe. I was drinking Demonus with Diavolo earlier. And you know, he kept saying all these nice things about you... Let me tell you, I'm also really happy you're down here with us.”

​​“…Who even came up with the idea that whoever empties their bottle first, wins...? Oh, right. I did... My bad. Ah, my head is spinning. Good night MC. Love you.”

​​“Ugh, you thickheaded fool of a demon! What's your skull made of? Granite?”

​​“That's a curse meant to make you stub your toe on the leg of a table… But if you actually do stub your toe, it hurts quite a bit.”

​​“MC. It has come to my attention that Mammon and Asmo took you out for a drive recently. Well, how was it? Enjoyable? …I'm glad to hear it. We all need breaks from the daily grind from time to time. l'd like you to join me for a drive next time. I'll give you a taste of euphoric freedom that those two could never dream of. Prepare for the time of your life.”

​​“If you'd like, we could take a shower together.”

​​“After all, I haven't managed to seduce you yet. I'm going to need more time.”

​​“The three highest-ranked demons in the realm, frolicking about in a frivolous pajama party? How absurd.”

​​“I didn't hear a word you just said. I know nothing about it, and I'm going to keep it that way.”

​​“I see. Then I should be allowed to take a similar photo of you, no? Come stay over in my room again tonight.”

​​“Don't be stupid. I will not allow myself to be clad in demon garb. I'm going to strip off every last piece of it this very instant and fling it as far away from me as I can.”

​​“You're a demon. I'm surprised someone like you is able to feed me lines like that with a straight face. You've got some nerve.”

​​ “Heheheh. Well, he is my brother, after all, so I thought I'd go easy on him. So, should I make this quick, or go slowly, bit by bit? Your choice.”

​​ “So, tell me. what's with the Little D.? The one looking at me with that moronic expression...”

​​“You think you stand a chance against me?! You think you could defeat Lucifer, Avatar of Pride?“

​​ “Well, aren't you persistent. I suppose you won't be happy until you've pummeled the door senseless?”

​​“...Just what were you hoping to accomplish by knocking me down like this, hm? Because doing something like that to me, right now… is making it much harder for me to control myself...!”

​​“Given that you were the one who pounced first, you can't complain when the tables are turned, can you? …I'm so thirsty, I can hardly think straight. I trust you understand what that means.”

​​ “To show my thanks, I suppose I'm not against giving you some special treatment. You'll have to come closer. I'll give you my lap until you're satisfied. ...You'll keep me company until then, won't you?”

​​"You deserve a thank you."

​​ "Sorry, this isn't exactly my cup of tea. I was hoping you'd know me better."

​​"It appears to me you know what pleases me."

​​"Are you really trying to tickle me? Heheheh, you'll have to do much better than that."

​​"Pff...if you think that tickles, you're wrong."

​​"Well, if you insist on touching me, then be my guest.”

​​"Well, hello. How are things?"

​​"You've got some nerve keeping me waiting. Well now, what are you going to do about it?"

​​"I'm back. Hm? ...Did you miss me?"

​​"*sigh* I've had a long day. But seeing you has a way of making me feel better."

​​"Sorry, I had some business to take care of. Well, well, you certainly seem happy to see me."

​​"Done? Let's continue this in my room."

​​"Good night... We'll meet again in our dreams."

​​ "I feel like we both have a nice day ahead of us."

​​ "I enjoyed our time together. Perhaps we should do this again."

​​“You do know what I'm capable of... don't you?"

​​ "Happy Easter. Will you accept it, my little bunny?"

​​"Once you're officially a sorcerer, I'd like you to become powerful enough to shut up Solomon for me."

“Very well. Here I go. Lucifer Kick!”

“Why should I be subjected to the indignation of a pat on the head from you?”

​​“After all, it's a bit like tossing a helpless lamb into the middle of a pack of hungry wolves, isn't it? But it's also important to understand just who it is you're eating, wouldn't you say?“

​​ “It means that I see you as prey, too. Just like the others. It goes without saying that I'm far stronger than you. If I were to pin you down right here and now, you wouldn't be able to do anything about it, now would you? How about we give it a try...?“

​​“You will soon enough.”

​​ “When a vampire feeds, it's not like his human prey feels only pain. Quite the opposite, actually. They're overcome with a feeling of unimaginable ecstasy. The truth is that you want this as well, don't you? You want to feel my arms around you, to give yourself up to me and offer up your blood... You're special. I won't drink you dry...no. I'm going to kiss you again and again, all over your body. Indulging in you just a bit each and every night. And I do mean every night. No other vampire will ever know the taste of your blood…”

​​“Do you have any idea how hard I had to struggle not to do this earlier...? It was all I could do to resist throwing my arms around you right in front of everyone at the party.”

​​ “MC… I missed you. I can tell just from the way you feel against me. I can sense what you're feeling.I'm sorry, MC. ...Sorry it took me so long to get to you. You should really stay with me tonight. We need to make up for all the time lost.“

​​ “You're drunk, you idiot. Oh well, I'll go along with you just for today. Bottoms up.”

​​“Me? Intoxicated? Preposterous. I'm my usual old self.”

​​“You are also fond of me, no?“

​​ “Then come over here. Are you holding back? Come closer. Prepare yourself. If I win, I get to do with you as I please.”

​​“You know there is no turning back after the first pillow is thrown, right?”

“As a demon, I've never cared when humans bred…”

​​“Stop unnecessarily stressing me out. You're shaving years off my life here.”

​​ “I don't mind. If I am not allowed to nag, then I can simply beat these rules into you.”

​​“Is this how you all amuse yourselves? By sending photos of your exposed body parts?”

​​ “Good grief. I need eyes everywhere to keep track of everyone.”

Extras! (It's hard to pick just 100 y'know?)

1. ​​“Leading unhealthy lifestyles, frittering away your time and money… The extent to which you all squander your lives away is quite intolerable to watch.”

2.​​ “Put two or more of you together, and you start getting ideas in your head. Bad ideas.”

3. “The next time one of you puts so much as a toe out of line… I'lI march you all up your beloved Mt. Imminent Death, and ensure that you NEVER return.”

4. “So as an extra bonus, I'll tickle you...”

5. “How nice that you're not letting our large underground gambling problem spoil your fun...”

✧༺⚜️༻✧

𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

𝒮𝒽𝓎 𝒲𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓇 ༝༚༝༚

[einsatzzz]

H.K. & H.K. 🥹💖✨ khr x sanrio collab will always live rent-free inside my brain

[jasperthejester]

me: finally accepting theres a good chance im autistic and starting to work up the courage to ask my parents to see if i could get a diagnoses but being scared to

my mom: do you ever think you have adhd? if you want to do a screening for add next time your at the doctors you can

me:

[fiveredlights]

old habits die screaming - chapter 1

(alternatively known as the daniel team principal au)

Visa Cash App RB @/VisaCashAppRB • 1 Nov 2027 Ricciardo Returns! Visa Cash App RB is excited to announce that former Red Bull & RB driver Daniel Ricciardo will be taking up the helm as team boss from 2028, following current team boss Laurent Mekies reduction into a part time role. Read more at the 🔗 in bio.

When Daniel’s Zandvoort injury turns out to be much worse than it first seems he officially retires at the end of the 2023 season. Five years later, he’s announced as the new team boss of RB and many people in and out of the paddock have lots of thoughts.

Told through social media integrated through work skins.

(read here)

[sena-shi]

SAGAU but with Scheming Creator!Reader Imposter AU

PT. 1

*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You were going about your day as usual when you decided to read some SAGAU Imposter AU fanfictions on the internet. The plot does not provide you with as much satisfaction as you would want, and the readers' ability to exact revenge seems too — in your opinion, quite lacking.

On the other hand, you consistently maintain a nonchalant attitude about it. You are still going to go ahead and read it, then continue scrolling until you discover another fanfiction.

A retribution in the form of exile? You probably won't find this interesting. Taking your newfound powers and using it to wipe them off as payback? That is quite thrilling; however, wouldn't it be preferable to make them regret and bear the sins of killing their one and only creator for the rest of their lives?

The shame and remorse that would slowly consume everything within them until there was nothing left.

The vivid memory of them using the blessings that you bestowed upon them to dishonour your divine existence is particularly satisfying.

The effort that you put into everything to get them to the position that they are in right now.

The memories that they will carry with them for the rest of their lives of how they used everything you blessed them with to get rid of you. 

The SAGAU AU fanfictions you've been reading have somewhat convinced you that the characters in the game can actually hear your voice, so occasionally you open the app, play the game, and talk to each character as if you think they can hear you.

The characters with the most heartbreakingly repetitive lines would receive your highest praise and reassurance.

You would hear Zhongli speak his infamous voice line, “Osmanthus wine tastes the same as I remember, but where are those who share the memory?”

And you would always reply with, “If the universe permits it, I would be delighted to share a drink with you and listen all about the wonderful times you and your loved ones have had together over the years.” In the warmest, and gentlest voice you could muster.

It's possible that you've gone insane because those are only fanfictions, yet you still find amusement on doing it.

And then, all of a sudden, it was as if the heavens had listened to your thoughts and made the decision to send you to the world of your creations, directly in front of the divine statue they had sculpted just for you.

Specifically designed with you in both heart and mind. The very statue that they would bow down to and pay respect to, something that they would look upon with reverence in their eyes.

You, the one who brought them into existence. You, the one who gave them life. You, their one and only creator.

Who would have the audacity to imitate the appearance of our Diving Creator and to step foot on the sacred ground!

Our Goddess was right; now that she has chosen to descend to our humble plane, a great number of people will attempt to copy her and steal her divination while her body is still adjusting to the conditions of our realm.

“Ah,” A sound like a gentle whisper was coming from your mouth. You did not move from where you were seated on the ground, keeping your attention fixed on the floor below you, which featured the most exquisite carvings you had ever seen. A smirk grew on your lips as you tried to stifle the chuckle; perhaps it was a maniacal laughter that was threatening to break forth. Fortunately for their sanity, they were spared the trauma of seeing it.

The fake, as one could have anticipated, displays an excessive amount of caution.

You were familiar with those lines. Where they would straight out deem you as fake. Imposter AU, huh? Then you guess that there’s no need to negotiate. After all, all of them will act like rabid dogs and probably decapitate you.

You slowly lifted your head, revealing long, wavy, glittering white hair that had fallen to the ground and was streaming down your back. The color of your hair was the most pristine that any human being could ever hope to witness. And your eyes. If one were to stare into them, they would be as dark as the abyss, and upon doing so, they would reveal the universe that is contained inside themselves. It appears to be a reflection of the night sky, where stars would shine brightly in honor of the one who nurtures the world, one whom they would always protect and one whom they would always look after.

As their attention was drawn to your face, those who were entrusted with the responsibility of guarding the sacred grounds began to tense up. The eye that had the most loving gaze was staring at them, as though the person they suspected of being an imposter is connected with them.

The imposter observed them in a manner like to that of a mother observing her children.

Despite their threats, they saw how you continued to lovingly glance at them with a hint of curiosity, perhaps wondering why they are so hostile to you.

Seeing them come to a complete halt makes you feel amused, but you keep up the act as if you are a compassionate and forgiving divine entity. However, at the bottom of your heart, you secretly wish for them to be ashamed by the way in which they regarded you as a fake.

Are you too vicious with your thoughts? Maybe.

Are you meant to ignore all of it simply because they are completely devoted to you?

Then why aren't they able to recognize that the imposter, who you believe was probably seated on the throne and bearing the title of God of the Gods, is the one who is being deceitful?

Is it because of your appearance?

You maintained your position on the ground, staying perfectly still as you watched them patiently while keeping your amusement well veiled in your eyes.

The only thing that can be seen by them is a stunning woman who is smiling warmly in answer to their presence. Simply the fact that the woman was watching them caused them to increase the pressure they applied to the grips of their spears and swords.

The wind that was not intended to enter the enclosed place unexpectedly caressed their bodies as if it were talking to them—

Do not hurt our Creator.

The grounds trembled, as if enthusiastic and pleased to be blessed with your presence, that their Creator was willing to dirty their feet to step on the land. The grounds were evidently happy that their Creator was willing to bless them with your presence.

It's not even an exaggeration to say that the entire Teyvat, the first child of the Creator, is likely experiencing an incredible amount of joy just from recognizing your divinity.

The big and broad doors swung open with a bang, and the glances that your beloved and wonderful acolytes gave you as they heard that someone was copying their dear God seared deep holes into your skull. In all honesty, you would prefer to stay and witness how they will act from that point on.

My, my… You thought. Have their IQs decreased dramatically in the span of a single night as a direct result of the arrival of the real fake?

The holy grounds are far too little for a game of "hide and seek," despite how much you love to have fun playing with them. You can't wait to discover how they will deal with someone they have identified as an imposter like yourself. You are patient, and you will embrace everything they will give you.

You would counteract any evil intended for you with acts of kindness. You, in turn, wish they wouldn't let you down as the shame destroys them from the inside out.

After all, it's hard to see a mother being the source of any kind of harm to her children.

If they wish to hurt you, then so be it.

You wonder.

Who will kill you first?

Them?

Or yourself?

You heard them running after you as you escaped the place, which you didn't find particularly difficult. Your lips formed an unconscious sneer as you ran, not too fast, and not too slow. You want them to catch up to you so that everyone may play together.

And perhaps, if they decide to give you the performance you want to witness, you would forgive as any other benevolent being would.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[buildoblivionthenwewilltalk]

‘born in the wrong generation’ but I mean I’d have been so fucking good at writing edgy, lore breaking doctor who missing adventures books in the 90s

[sunflawyer]

a little sunflawyer lore drop because its been too long since i did one!!

just as a way for me to show abby's personality better ☀️ it's about Abby and her patients.

its quite long though !!! (⁠⊙⁠_⁠◎⁠) but its sweet :3

abby is a psychologist who works at a clinic !!! her patients range from kids to adults :D so far the one that i would love to mention is Clara, a 9 year old girl who suffers from abvuse trauma. for clara's case, abby helps her to heal while jimmy helps bring justice for her by capturing the perpetrator.

recently i thought of a new patient!! this one is an elderly man named Sam who recently lost his wife. he goes to abby to help him cope with his grief. he tells abby everything about his marriage — the memories, the dreams, the moments... and sam's stories make abby think of jimmy. the same romance that sparkles between the two of them...

now, sam's wife's passing got her thinking about herself too. abby has a low blood pressure, which causes her to pass out quite often, and it always worries jimmy. she's afraid if something happens to her one day, jimmy will struggle to cope with it. and it terrifies her and haunts her mind for days until one day she can't take it anymore.

so one day, after she comes home from another session with sam, abby sits beside jimmy and asks him to make her cry. jimmy was taken aback of course — he never wanted to see abby cry, let alone being the one who caused it. but abby trusts him and says crying is a good way to cope with sadness to relief all of your bottled-up emotions. at work, she has to be tough for her patients, but today, she needs to ve vulnerable.

so, jimmy did. — he tells her about the day they met, about how he was instantly captivated by her the moment his eyes met hers. he tells her about their wedding day, how he was so nervous that he was the loudest to cry during their vows. he tells her the day tommy was born, the day tommy said 'mama', and the day when he first entered daycare. he tells her their memories together.

and she cried. of course not from sadness, but from happiness. they've been through a lot together. there were times when she doubted herself, and there were times when she was the happiest woman in the world. and she went through them with jimmy by her side.

he then pulls her into his arms and whispers, "its okay to cry, abby. i know you want to be tough for others, but with me, youre not just Dr. Abigail McGill, you're Abby. You're my wife, my best friend, the reason why I wake up with a smile everyday."

and he kisses her forehead, lingering there.

"you're a human, abby. a human with feelings. I'm here for you, to share your burdens with. i love you, no matter how you are feeling today, tomorrow, and the next day.

you're my heart."

[kawareo]

Purely self indulgent but I think Astarion would be uncomfortable with Strike's body after the tadpoling. The guy is so horribly scarred, has bad muscle atrophy, and before the lobotomy, Astarion knew him only as an untouchable halfgod - must be difficult to see the evidence of his failures littered all over his ruined body.

They'd still have sex because manipulation and desperation between two people who never knew anything else leads to it, but I really like the thought that Astarion attempts to make it ~spontaneous and passionate~ as an excuse for Strike to keep his clothes mostly on and Ass can pretend that he didn't have to face his own mortality because the strongest person he thought he knew has so obviously been defeated.

Because i can see every other companion reacting in a neutral (Halsin, Wyll) or even positive (Lae'zel, Shart) way to the terrible state hes in, or at worst with concern (especially Karlach, sometimes Gale and Wyll), at least once he proves himself as a warrior even with his physhical limitations (sorcerer!), but Astarion just... I dunno. He is vain himself, and judgy, but I think he'd use those reasons to cover up how uneasy he feels with the great Bhaalspawn being so physhically ruined.

[m1d-45]

You know, I've been thinking. The stars in our world often look quite dim, especially in areas where there is light pollution. Suddenly, I'm imagining that in the Imposter!AU, the Creator looks at the stars at night, captivated by their brilliance. Perhaps Scaramouche or Mona (Whichever you prefer, you may also just write another character you think fits this scenario :D) find them. The Creator looks at them, then back at the stars.

"They're very lovely, you know? The stars never shine this brightly back home. It's a lovely sight..."

They smile. "I'm happy that I'm able to see them, even if it's in another world. I appreciate you letting me look at them before I die."

Perhaps the character takes pause... And sits next to them.

It's a lovely night.

in the stars

word count: ~1k

-> warnings: violence, blood, both of those in your future so technically you’re not hurt yet, not written for mona mains, sorry, didn’t work with the plot :/ also diona/klee/qiqi/nahida/sayu mains are on thin ice with this one. questionable plot. barely edited.

-> lowercase intended

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie

< masterlist >

the stars never lie.

mona clutches her catalyst to her chest, wide eyes turned to the sky. she whispers to them, hoping they’ll change, shift into something she’ll understand, anything.

they don’t.

her head lowers, inspecting the book. thrilling tales, the spine reads, the cover a simplified dragon with a sword through it. she tries to read into it, to try and pick apart the motives behind the weapon, but all it returns is a simple needlepoint.

a compass. one she’d followed ever since she caved into the pull on her catalyst, one she’d followed out of the city at dusk and into the plains, hiking up starsnatch cliff at its behest. her twin tails had lost some of their curl on the journey, her hat flopping sadly. it was late, later than she’d normally be awake, and she stumbled once on a rock before quickly catching herself, checking to make sure you hadn’t moved.

you, sat at the peak of the cliff. you, surrounded by cecelias, face turned to the stars. you, who turned at her short cry.

“are you alright?”

she couldn’t bring her hands to shift her catalyst into its attack position. her hands, free from their usual gloves, dug into the cover of the book, shaking both with the chill of night and with… she couldn’t tell, couldn’t pin whether it was fear or nervousness, or something else that blurred the line between panic and excitement.

“just fine, thank you.”

her voice was harsher than it should have been. she could tell you were being genuine, the way the water in the air shaped around you like it wanted to cling made that clear enough, the stars shining down on you as if you were the only being on the planet.

the stars never lie. so why were they saying you meant no harm?

you turned back to the stars, your hands shifting back to weave into the grass between the cecelias.

"they’re very lovely tonight. the stars, i mean. they never shine this brightly back home….” against her better judgement, mona glanced up. the sky was particularly clear, constellations shining down unhindered. “it’s a beautiful sight.”

orders from the knights echoed in mona’s head, orders extended from a god she’d never met. she knew the knights wholeheartedly meant what they said, truly believing the words they were told, but you…

hesitantly, she brought her hand in a circle in front of her, scrying for your constellation. you didn’t have one, unsurprisingly, and she relaxed slightly in the knowledge that you didn’t have a vision.. still, there was something strange about the empty space where yours would have been. swapping the sigils and rotating the outer edge, mona decided to read your future.

all the air was sucked from her lungs, the images depicted in the water making her mouth dry. the water warped and bubbled a dark color, as if it itself hated to show what it did.

you were on your knees, tight steel chains wrapped around you and latched onto hooks in whatever you were sitting on. in front of you stood the favored, the creator’s most prized, their weapon drawn. their form was taught with anger, nearly seething. it was strange, so uncharacteristic that it froze the astrologist in place for a moment.

no matter how fiery the disposition, vessels of yours were calmer after being wished upon, heart stiller for being by your side. they, the most prominent on your team of them all, should be at most handling such a severe situation with a tick in their jaw and quiet fury in their eyes, not…

she watched with sick horror as the favored attacks once, your chest caving once, twice with hitched attempts at breathing before you slumped over, blood trickling from your neck. the favored stepped back, weapon dismissed, and mona closed the illusion before it played any further. she hadn’t meant to look all the way to your death, only a few-

…only a few hours.

her hands shake where they’re still clasped in front of her, the remains of her scrying circle swirling in her palms. you didn’t even have a day.

she let the water fall, sending it towards the cecelias around you, willing them to stand brighter as she approached. she couldn’t bring herself to summon her catalyst, not now that she knew what your fate held.

the grass was damp beneath her, seeping slightly into her nightclothes. you didn’t say anything, simply passing her a flower that you had been twirling in your palms. she willed it to heal, restored the color to its petals and the strength to its stem, then passed it back. she had no use for it, not when you…

you chuckled as you took it, staring down at it for a moment before turning skyward once more. mona followed your eyes up, spotting a well known constellation directly above you. nearly perfectly straight up, glowing like a beacon, was the constellation of the favored, six stars making themselves prominent against the dotted sea of night.

“beautiful, isn’t it?”

she swallowed, eyes flicking down to you. you were still watching the stars, probably tracing the shape of the constellation above you. unknowing of what it spelled for your fate, unknowing of the warning written above you.

mona settled into the grass a little more, taking her hat off her head so it wouldn’t fall when she looked up again.

“indeed, it is.”

[afsosville]

An alternative version of how Shen Jiu's trial could've gone down, based off of this one tt I saw>>

I'll forever mourn the fact that we'll never know what Airplane had actually planned for Shen Jiu's character and how he would've made use of his backstory. The OPM getting the human stick treatment in the SV timeline was probably supposed to allude to him being the original scum villain of PIDW. Shen Jiu was meant to either be a red herring to the real scum villain or a temporary antagonist. He was never supposed to meet the end he did since it was reserved for smn else entirely.

So here's one plausible version of PIDW that exists somewhere lost in Airplane's drafts>>

The trial goes as planned, with the accusations against Shen Jiu announced and he's already found guilty of them. Before any of them can go lock him away for good, he starts talking (which is never a good omen for anyone in his immediate vicinity). His statements cause ppl to actually dig around and investigate the meaning behind his words because those statements vaguely come off as indiscernible threats. Whether the crimes were fabrications, lies, or were perfectly justified, all become clear soon enough. Shen Jiu gets the last laugh because he self destructed on the spot and shattered his own soul after he said his piece so no one could reach him or hope to resurrect him.

It's mostly Luo Binghe himself who tries to get to the bottom of it just for the off chance he might find anything that could help him bring Shen Jiu back. And he doesn't burn Cang Qiong down after the fact bc that would mean he's more similar to Shen Jiu than he's comfortable with admitting.

Shen Jiu also left everyone with departing words about the OPM, but only Luo Binghe understood those implications at all since they were directly connected to him and his parents.

[lovesickeros]

can.. can I ask for an affectionate reader with characters who aren’t normally like… used to the love? like, not just through words but physical affection like hand-holding, kisses, hugs, all that shebang. probably with a few people like yelan, ei, basically any character that is either cut-off from society or seems socially distant or isolated. 😞

☆ affectionate reader with yelan, ei, & furina

[ 4.2 Archon Quest spoilers ]

× yelan

Varies between how you display your affection, to be honest. Just like being affectionate with people? She's cool with it as long as you don't pop by while she's working (mostly because she'll end up dragging you into it for a bit of fun). I don't think she's all that touchy feely herself, but she'll absolutely get you gifts instead– like pretty knick nacks? She'll make sure to snag any she thinks you might like. Like a good meal? Sure, she'll take you out to one of the restaurants in the city, doesn't matter how expensive. Her treat. If you do prefer physical gifts rather then being taken out, you'll eventually get used to the random unmarked letters and packages showing up where your staying pretty often. It's obvious to know who it came from even if she never signs anything.

Flirty reader, though? Whole nother can of worms and now it's a challenge. The more confident you are the more interested she is. The other acolytes would absolutely seethe at the idea but she has no hesitation at just straight up flirting back– she's as charismatic as they come and she's got a poker face that's basically impenetrable. She'll probably also make a bet to see who cracks first (she always wins, unsurprisingly). Probably won't get dragged into any of her schemes this way but if you ask politely maybe she'll consider it, anyway.

The smell of freshly brewed tea and the clatter of dice across wood was a common sight at the Yanshang Teahouse– less common was the woman secluded in the far corner, her lips pulled into a grin that flashed fangs and a look that would scare off the most confident of men.

She'd normally try to scope out any new blood that'd made the mistake of stepping into her teahouse and was equally stupid enough to accept a gamble against her just for the thrill of it, but she was far too absorbed in the warm body at her side, one of her die clasped tightly in their hand as she guided them through the motions– they had a knack for it, she had to admit. The thought made her preen, the clatter of the die as it rolled across the table giving her that subtle, familiar rush.

Even if she knew exactly where it'd land.

"Six. Hm, maybe you're just lucky," She muses, plucking the die from the table and holding it up to her eye like a prized jewel, "Or maybe you're not as innocent as you'd have us believe." There's a sharp glint in her eyes at the prospect, but everyone else has the sense to keep their heads down and their words to themselves as she tosses the die herself.

"So why don't we find out and make a bet, just between you and me?"

× ei

Varies between Ei and the Shogun, because you'll probably be seeing either as much as the other. Sometimes you gotta really squint to tell who it is sometimes, but you get used to it. Both are fairly similar, though, in that their first instinct (especially in public) is to tense up like you're about to attack them or something. Difference is Ei eventually relaxes after a solid minute of trying to process your sudden affection and, if no one else is around, she might even reciprocate. Just don't tease her for being a little stiff and awkward about it, she's trying. That's what happens when your only company is a robot and uh. Nothing. For like 500 years. She's trying. Raiden, on the other hand, is just about as awkward as you can imagine. She's polite (blunt) about it because Ei is fond of you and also you are. The Creator. But she's not really built to deal with personal relationships and so she doesn't know how to deal with affection.

..Depending on what you do you may or may not blue screen Ei hard enough that she retreats back to PoE

Ei usually isn't fond of sitting still, unless it's to meditate. At least then she goes in with a purpose, something to achieve– but now, she's just focused on trying not to make a fool of herself. Her muscles are starting to ache from how hard she's tensing, though, in an effort to sit as straight and still as possible as their hands glide through her hair, weaving it into a single braid.

She can just barely hear the subtle lilt of their voice as they hum– and though it is soothing, it is also..very distracting. She can't focus long enough to try and meditate, too lost in the gentle rise and fall of their voice and the care they take to braid her hair. If she'd had a heart, she'd sure it'd be beating so wildly against her ribcage they could hear it.

But then it stops– their hands fall back to their sides and their humming falters. She freezes, too, racking her brain for any slights she must have committed. Instead, she is met with a calm, tender touch on the back of her neck, making her inhale sharply.

"Am I making you uncomfortable, Ei? You're so tense.." She has to grit her teeth to stop herself from bowing so low her head presses against the ground, her hands folded in her lap, clenching instinctively. "..No, Divine One." She answers simply, trying to contain the adoration swelling in her chest.

Yet as much as she tries to relax, to ease their worries, she finds that she cannot.

"Hm." That small murmur, a simple sound that nearly made her jump, was the only warning she got before they scooted closer, wrapping their arms around her stomach and resting their chin on her shoulder with a grin she would liken to Miko's, if she dared to make such a comparison. "Really?"

She swears she must've been feverish at the affection, lightheaded and dazed until she thought she might simply perish at the brush of their hands against her own.

Much to her embarrassment, however, she doesn't realize she's instinctively pulled back into Plane of Euthymia until she sees the familiar dull purples engulf her vision once again.

Though only a small solace, it seemed a little..brighter, this time.

× furina

Varies between pre 4.2 and post 4.2 archon quests to be honest.

Pre 4.2 she comes off as very vain– of course the most Divine would see fit to spoil her with affection! She deserves it, and is obviously their favorite! Just don't look too hard because she's terrible at hiding how flustered she actually is. Absolutely goes home right after and screams into her pillow for at least thirty minutes minimum.

Post 4.2 she's a lot more openly bashful and flustered. She's really not used to affection and even the smallest show of it has her folding immediately. Now that she doesn't need to worry about being found out she's a lot more receptive to affection. Cup her cheeks and compliment her and her knees are buckling. Like. Especially weak for compliments and praise (she deserves it. please spoil her).

She swears she must be hallucinating– she had been having trouble sleeping recently. But..no. The visage of the Creator was as real as the sweat beading on her brow as she stared at them for a long, awkward moment. Should..she let them in? But then they'd see the pathetic state she was in, and the last thing she wanted to do was make a fool of herself in front of them-!

Her choice was quickly made for her, anyway, as she let out an undignified squeak of surprise when they suddenly tugged her forward into their chest, enclosing her in a hug.

Her first reaction was to freeze– her second was becoming absolutely flustered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink and her mouth closing and opening as she tried to find her words.

"I– ah..um." She stumbled over her words instead, floundering like a fish out of water. Yet she felt a distinct sense of emptiness wash over her when they finally pulled back, looking a touch sheepish. "Sorry, sorry– you just looked like you needed a hug."

The silence spoke for itself, her shoulders tensing slightly. But the way the concern and affection bled through their voice made her waver, her hands trembling as she let out a shaky breath that almost sounded like a sigh.

"It's..It's fine! Fine, I'm fine." She repeated, trying desperately to ignored the way her voice cracked and how hot her face felt– though it was more an attempt to affirm herself that she was not thinking about how warm they felt, how much she..actually enjoyed the hug. She wasn't thinking about it all! Absolutely not!

..Maybe a little.

"Just warn me next time, please?"

[mellohisan]

▶ My Gravity Falls Self Insert Lore! (as of right now) ▶

[skitskatdacat63]

Ye olde cat boys....

(I'm working on a bigger piece rn, so I colored this sketch in the meantime :DD)

I realized this is basically a more realized version of a sketch from really early boy king days:

[lorelune]

(soft, light angst, kaveh overworking)

“you need to rest.”

you drape yourself over kaveh’s shoulders and press your cheek against his neck. blow a shock of a cold air over his collars bone and he shivers with it.

“once this draft is complete.” kaveh can’t hide the withered tone from his voice. his bravado has always been weak, laced with a mix of perpetual fatigue and insecurity that’s terribly easy to pick out. even easier for you to hear and see with the intimacy that you manage to share with him.

you hum, unconvinced. you hand slides over his sides to his chest, and cross to settle over his ribs, “you can finish later.”

“my deadline—“ kaveh begins to speak and you cut him off with a gentle pinch to his side.

he squeaks, something high and cute. his quill drops to the desk. there’s a shake in his hands, and a strain you can see pulling at his dominant hand. you frown and nip at his neck.

“isn’t for a few days. besides, i’ll reason with the client if you need an extension.” you assure him (that you’ll be there to help him, unwaveringly, even if he thinks he doesn’t deserve it.)

“you need to take care of yourself to do your best work. i’ll help you.”

you already have onions and garlic sliced for a meal.

kaveh sighs, fidgeting. uncomfortable. “i don’t need you to coddle me.”

“i’m well-aware of that.” you placate him. “reminders don’t hurt, do they?”

“when you speak to me as if i’m not aware of my own overworking, they do.” kaveh’s voice goes sharp. “i’m perfectly self-sufficient and don’t need you to hover when i’m attempting to work.”

kaveh gets harsher with this words, the more vulnerable he feels. you know the rhythm of it well and your frustration with it varies, depending on the day. today, you understand. he can be as barbed as you want, and you will not allow it to hurt you.

“i don’t mean to hover.” you tell him, dragging your lips up to his cheek and kiss the words against the soft skin there. “i just worry.”

“well, you don’t need to.”

“… you saying that won’t stop me from doing so.” you squeeze him. “at least step away to eat something. i’ll make that ginger tea you like— i have candied lemons too.”

kaveh chews his cheek. appealing to his stomach, and is love of sweets, is perhaps a bit dastardly, but you forgive yourself. when kaveh’s warm and fed and has slept more than a cumulative six hours, you can muse on better ways to goad him into accepting a break.

“in a few minutes. if i can finish this sketch, i can start doing conversions—“ he rattles off the steps of his process, winding and complex, entirely his. genius burns a candle fast and low, and kaveh has always been a prodigy.

“fine. then let me sit with you.”

kaveh concedes to that much. a victory, however pyrrhic.

you slip to the ground near his feet and rest your back against the legs of his chair. you smother your face into his leg, and his hand instantly presses over the top of your head. kaveh mindlessly plays with your hair as he continues working. easily absorbed back into his work, chasing whatever inspiration and subsequent design that he’s crafted. kaveh has grand visions and the skills and talent to actualize them. his biggest enemy is his own festering self-deprecation.

you don’t blame him. you never could.

kaveh mumbles to himself, stroking over your forehead, and worrying the little wrinkle between your brows. you know he’ll take more than a few minutes before remembering you’re at his feet, patiently waiting for him to relent just enough that you’re able to shove him full of whatever care you can. you like to imagine you’re whittling away at him through keeping his belly full and his bed warm. he enjoys having you on his arm— you know this well. he likes you. (he just hates himself, and there’s nothing you can do about it.)

you don’t dwell on it. you’ll give him what he takes and prod him until he takes more. you take his hand by the wrist and drag it to your lips, pressing kiss after kiss to his fingers tips.

when he shudders with it, tenses all through his body, you feel nothing but smitten.