#where DID he find all these poems anyway?

[crossbackpoke-check]

Substance, Shadow, and Spirit [remixed, abridged] by Tao Yuanming

[halfdeadfriedrice]

last one for the night because it's late and honestly i'm just nostalgia-bombing for me, but i found the poem. i've been looking for this poem for years. around 5 or 6 or 7 of them, since she stopped talking to me, moved away, and fell off the internet. i had lost the future but i find it difficult to not be able to carry the past, and how often do you get poems written about you?

god 16 was hard. and everything after that too.

since i'm removing it from its original context: some CWs for disordered eating, being 16, references to christianity and the republican-moderate agenda

when jesus ate my house

by [linna], Jul 8, 2008, 3:47:27 PM

1.   do you hate me?, she asks.

my legs are in my face, pressed in the crevice, earth-break, ripping of my nose, hanging between my eyes like an extra arm, curling in on itself. i feel sick, dizzy; the world is a dribbled basketball, a honeyed ham, an empty soda bottle, a gutter and a staircase. i could grab her face, stretch the skin, vomit.

no, i want to say. no, no, no. please, don't think that. why would you think that? no. no, no, no. please, no. never.

i sob and shake. she wracks her brain for reasons to hate herself. i can't respond. my mouth slows and my head fevers, paces. i shiver. her eyes melt.

i am silent, fitfully, regrettably.

2.   my head is the new batcave.

he starts up his car; the engine rears. my stomach roars with fitful delight. my gut cooks up a tornado against fasting, against eating, against being awake.

she laughs at my stupid jokes, my silly words, my bad metaphors. she laughs and she smirks and she smiles and she grins, and she laughs, she laughs,

she laughs. it is enough.

3.   at the books-a-million at the local outdoor mall, we sip drinks and i anxiously count the minutes to closing time, searching for the words on the table. it will not hand them over. i look at her, blank, unsure.

you listen, she says. i'm not leaving. emily isn't leaving and i am not leaving and i don't care who left you before, because i am not going anywhere.

in the middle of the night she is telling me about gay men and a fire and her father's coffee maker, and i am throwing my legs in places i don't understand and my brain struggles with the idea of not-sleeping, while she smiles and begins to dream when she is still awake, and i know that she will for long after.

oh, i want to say. don't you understand? you're going everywhere.

4.   the sky promises thunderstorms. i crack my fingers and bury my head between my knees, the epitome of safe.

she has been underlining things with her voice. i italicize, emphasize. she emboldens, brightens. i shrink back, slowly, step by step. she reaches out.

5.   we are laying in my driveway. david jennings   (my arch-nemesis, my rival, my enemy) rests at my side, crusted in my palm, and she is absent-mindedly watching the moon chew.

i am still babbling about my anorexia; it is the day of my diagnosis. she listens. i silently ask the stars to let the moment never end; however,

i am the one who stands up finally and says, it's getting late. let's go back.

6.   my dad does not understand why i had to sit in the car to talk to her on the phone. his eyebrows constrict, contract, become semicolons and dashes and questions murdering his forehead. there is a contortionist living in my father's brow.

i tell him he does not understand. the telephone is like a dead rock in my hand, echoing her words, her sighs, her ums, her giggles.

he shakes his head, mutters something about teenagers. i recoil.

7.   i want to, but

i do not tell her that i am afraid. i am strong, like milked bones and tightened rope and prisoner biceps. i am indestructible, i am clean, i am fortified, i am unbreakable.

i am too much.

8.   she makes me try on nicknames. they fit like worn jeans, ballet slippers, ugly bathing suits.

lee is the first one she tries. i unsuccessfully try to convince her that leeann is a name on its own, that doesn't need to be shortened, altered, modified, bloodied, pulped.

lunch comes next. i give her mine with a reassuring glance and she smiles, sad, and works her way through it, rhythmically. she senses the awkwardness and drops the name; it sticks about as well as her trying to shove food down my throat.

linna, she finally settles on. it comes out of nowhere: no backup, no story, no explanation. it is simply there, attached onto my back, hanging off my nose. she reads it in my eyes.

she does not let it go. and after a while, i don't know if i want her to.

9.   i don't feel real, sometimes. like my feet are simply weighted leaves, and my hands are lightened bricks, and my head is an empty balloon, about to pop. sometimes i feel like i am the burden of someone's imagination, a figment of someone's unsympathetic hands. a clay figure, a doll, a wooden statue, a house, a wall, a child, a corpse.

i hope she feels skin and bones, tissues and nerves, solidity and liquid, earth and water and air and form. i hope she realizes, and i hope she always

remembers.

10.   this is a fic in which rodney is a unicorn and john is a rainbow.

my face is lost to the curve of my elbow. it is three-thirty a.m. and i cannot breathe. she spoons her ice cream and smiles, laughing dryly, quietly pleased.

there is nothing more. there doesn't need to be.

11.   only you, she is cracking up, speaking through the giggles, can listen to this song while reading romantic fluff.

i grin. oh, be quiet, i say, and go back to your bdsm and bloodplay.

with pleasure.

12.   she is my first victim.

i am practicing telling people i have a problem. it comes out hasty, undefined, nervous. oh, i have a disorder.   oh, that's just my anxiety issues.   panic attacks? yeah, i get those.

she does not know what to do with this information. i can tell. she has her legs bunched up underneath her, crouching to look at me not-eating lunch on the cafeteria floor, burrowed in the corner.

what are you doing here?, she says, instead. she does not know what to do, so she smiles.

i open my mouth. i think i like her already.

13.   i'll walk with you, she says. i stare.

my voice cracks when i attempt to speak. really?

yeah, really, she says, laughs. why not?

14.   there is a voice in the back of my head that tells me to listen to her when she talks about god, jesus, church. about belief. there is a voice in the back of my head that says to listen to her conservative views, her republican-moderate agenda. there is a voice in the back of my head that says,

shut up, for once, and listen.

15.   in a pool in north carolina in a smelly hotel with a full set of clothes on each, we talk about our lives. we explain ourselves, quietly, shyly,

unapologetically.

16.   eat, linna, she says. please.

    i don't know how to tell her where i would be     without her. without her telephone calls,     her pokes and her prods, her questions; her asking     of my writing, her encouraging me on, her     awkward silences and comfortable speeches; the way     she sometimes sounds distant on the phone,     the way she inches in closer; her ethical debates, her     historical trivia, her moral inclinations, her     nocturnal sleeping schedules and     her overloaded eating habits, her addictions and her     favorites, her confessions and her not-secrets, her     wish-secrets, her honest-secrets.

no, i say. i'm sorry. i can't.

    i don't know how to tell her where i would be     without her.     i don't know how to explain, to convey,     to write and to picture         nowhere.

if you told me to stop,                         i would.                             anything.

17.   do you hate me?, she pleads, begs, wonders and fears.

i am silent.

and i promise myself that i never will be again, for her.

[sunderwight]

Okay, concept:

Luo Binghe grew up very poor prior to arriving to QJP. And when he first got to QJP, he was ostracized and neglected. So there are probably a lot of phrases, terms, and ideas that he didn't know were things until SY arrived and started actually teaching him. Right? So the bulk of what he did learn, he learned directly from Shen Yuan's own slightly messy attempts to fake ancient scholarly credentials.

Plus, QJP is supposed to be the peak of scholars and well-read, fancy intellectuals, and YQY probably also doesn't know shit about most of that stuff (having also been a former illiterate street child) and of course is incredibly predisposed to take Shen Qingqiu's side on virtually anything. Especially something frivolous or linked to their shared past, such as someone, say Qi Qingqi, accusing Shen Qingqiu of making up a literary reference or "gibberish" word. If something Shen Qingqiu says is something no one else seems to know, that just proves he's more worldly and well-read than the rest of his peers. Also, Shang Qinghua will probably know it, and despite his many (many) character flaws, Shang Qinghua reads a lot too. There's really very little to convince a former street child turned Demon Emperor whose former education began and ended with Shen Qingqiu specifically and Meng Mo (wildly out-of-touch with human culture anyway) to suspect that some of the difficult-to-source references his master makes really have no worldly source (in this world).

So Luo Binghe, in his quest to become as knowledgeable of all things about his shizun and keep up with him as well as possible, and maybe also put down some arguments he's overheard once and for all, eventually gets annoyed because CLEARLY there is a wealth of cultural knowledge contemporary to Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua that didn't survive to his own generation. His efforts at hunting down all the sources being referenced and origins of certain philosophical ideas or terminology keep coming up empty in certain departments. He's been over the entire QJP library with a fine-tooth comb, but QJP focuses on things pertaining to cultivation, history, and knowledge. Obviously, there are gaps. The archives are unlikely to keep pop cultural references and lowbrow literature, and Luo Binghe begins to suspect (from what tastes his master seems to share with his shishu) that that is that actual source he's missing.

The trashy yellow books and romance literature of their generation! Bawdy poems and lewd artworks so on! Heck, that's probably even where the shared "code" (bad English) comes into play -- disciples are always trying to sneak forbidden material past their teachers and smuggle naughty books into the dormitories. Knowing Shizun and Shang Qinghua, Luo Binghe honestly wouldn't be surprised if the two of them were racketeering that shit in their own disciple days. Shang Qinghua acquiring materials, Shen Qingqiu acquiring buyers, both of them making their extra spending money off of secretly supplying Cang Qiong's population with contraband fiction and art.

Also, that would explain why both Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua get flustered and refuse to elaborate if someone asks them what this or that strange turn of phrase refers to. Shen Qingqiu has a very thin face for actually discussing erotica, and Shang Qinghua doesn't like being caught doing illegal shit.

Luo Binghe desperately needs access to trash lit that's older than he is. However, most of that stuff is not printed to last, and turning it up is like trying to find old Spirk zines without the internet.

Shang Qinghua, the obvious go-to source, also seems to not really have anything that old anymore (intimidating him is laughably easy, if he had anything he would have coughed it up by the second or third time Luo Binghe asked and frowned at the same time), and if Shen Qingqiu did have anything he wouldn't want to be questioned about it. Asking too much might even get it destroyed in an act of excessive embarrassment.

Which means there is just one other person Luo Binghe knows who might be able to lead him to some sources. One other person he is absolutely, 100% certain was extensively reading trashy literature around the same time that Shizun was a young man. Someone who would know where to go to even begin looking for it.

Luo Binghe is going to have to ask Tianlang Jun for help with something.

[sttoru]

“AS IF THE MEMORIES HAVE A HEART THAT ONLY BEATS AT NIGHT.”

༄ sypnosis. your boyfriend is on a business trip, yet always finds the time to call you at night. though, this time he’s lonely and in need of comfort.

༄ note. inspired by one of mahmoud darwish’s poems plus by my love for this man. sigh he’s so pretty. excuse me if this is too sappy.

༄ tags. satoru x reader. female reader. pet names such as ‘sweet, love, baby, babe, angel”. satoru is clingy. this is just uhh, fluff and sprinkles of angst + reverse comfort. spoilers jjk manga (stuff w/ suguru & toji).

“what are you doing,” “where are you,” and “who’s with you,”

satoru, as always, didn’t give you the chance to greet him properly once you picked up his call. your boyfriend was sent on a mission overseas and has been calling you every night since.

he says it’s to ‘hear your pretty voice’ and because he apparently ‘can’t survive without hearing it at least once a day’.

“satoru— love, calm down.” you chuckle softly, putting the call on speaker before going back to eat your dinner.

you hear the sorcerer let out a small whine over the phone, “my bad, sweet. you know i always look forward to speaking with you.”

you hum lightly in response. satoru has always had the habit to call you whenever he misses you even in the slightest of amounts.

some may find that annoying, however you’re aware that you are the only person satoru can rely on at the end of the day. that’s exactly why you try your best to answer all of his phone calls.

“how’d the mission go?” you ask after swallowing a bite of your food.

“pfft, the usual. dealt with some annoying curses that’ve been plaguing the area.” your boyfriend groans; he wished he didn’t have to take care of his duties so he could be with you all the time.

satoru just wanted to hold you in his arms, cuddle you, shower you with love, take you out on cute dates and spoil you with all kinds of gifts. his responsibilities as a teacher and as the strongest sorcerer constantly got in the way of that simple dream.

“good work, baby. you did well today.” you reply, earning a small ‘i-know-i-did’ huff from your boyfriend.

“thanks,” satoru adds, his voice muffled. it sounded like he had some food in his mouth, which you easily guessed was something sweet, “you know.. i was thinking about us— eh, you in particular.”

a silence falls over the phone afterwards. it was like satoru gave you a moment to process his words before he continues.

“well, when do you not think about me?” you snicker.

you couldn’t see it, but satoru rolled his eyes at your comment before letting a chuckle escape his lips, “hey! was trying to create a sentimental mood there.”

“but, i guess— yeah. true.” your words were the truth; satoru was a hopeless man when it came to you. you’ve invaded his thoughts, his heart and even his soul.

“anyways,” your boyfriend continues, pausing slightly to swallow the snack in his mouth, “i know i say this every day, but i wish you were here with me.”

you stop chewing on your food as soon as you hear the slight change of tone in satoru’s voice. you immediately knew that he needed you at the moment.

“mhm, i know,” you reply quietly. you wanted to let him get it all out before comforting him properly with your words.

satoru took that short answer as a sign to keep talking and opening up about his feelings to you.

“it’s just,” he sighs defeatedly, “actually, i don’t know. i guess being alone during times like these really gets to me.”

satoru stared at the ceiling as he laid on his back. his phone was on the pillow right next to his head, also on speaker.

when he’s with you, it’s easy to forget about all kinds of gloomy thoughts that may enter his mind. all satoru has to do is focus his attention on you and he won’t have any time to dwell on such stuff.

however when he’s alone, he’s left with his own brain and the thoughts that ate away at him ever since the inevitable incident with toji a few years ago.

suguru. amanai.

rustling sounds; satoru’s moving positions on his bed to somehow focus on your voice again.

“i guess it’s also because it’s unknown what the future holds.” satoru pauses. this time the pause was for him to collect his thoughts.

you knew what he meant by that; satoru had went through a few traumatic events over the years. he’s faced betrayal, loss and death ever since he was a teenager.

even if he doesn’t say nor show it, satoru is scared of what the future holds for him. especially with you in the picture now— he doesn’t want you to change or disappear on him. the thought alone makes his heart ache.

“..hey, can you promise me one thing, angel?” satoru eventually speaks up again, his voice a hushed whisper over the phone.

“of course. what is it?” you answer softly.

a third and short silence falls between you again.

“promise me that you’ll stay safe.” satoru sounds like he’s desperately trying to keep his tone neutral, however you could sense some vulnerability in there.

now that you’re thinking about it, you’ve never seen or heard satoru cry out in sadness or distress. though you know for sure that those feelings are building up somewhere inside of him. it’s only a matter of time before they need to be released.

“i promise,” you start in a comforting tone, “i promise i’ll stay safe, satoru.”

you could hear your boyfriend sigh in relief. just a small promise like that was enough to calm him down a little. for now, that is.

“i’ve failed many people before,” satoru continues, still trying to keep the tone of his voice neutral, “however, i will not fail you.”

you nod to yourself. the rest of your dinner was getting cold as you used your chopsticks to absentmindedly poke the rice while listening to satoru over the phone.

“you’re too important for me to lose,” he murmurs, taking a deep breath to steady his voice, “if it ever comes to that.. i don’t know what i’ll do.”

satoru actually doesn’t know how he’ll react or what he’ll do if you—the only person worth fighting for—would leave him; will all the thoughts come crashing down on him and cause him to finally break down?

he doesn’t know. nor does he want to find out. ever.

“don’t you worry, love.” you answer, “i hereby promise you that i won’t leave your side any time soon.”

you sigh, a small smile on your face which satoru couldn’t witness. you figured to cheer him up with your own words— it felt like he needed a mix of distraction and comfort at the moment and that’s what you wanted to give him.

“i’m not going anywhere. you’re completely and utterly stuck with me for now.” you playfully warn him, putting emphasis on the two words, “there’s no backing out of this, ‘toru.”

the sorcerer couldn’t help but laugh slightly at your last remark; you always knew how to make him feel better in an instant. that’s why he loved you to death,

“make that forever and we have a deal.”

“fiiine,” you reply in an over exaggerated tone before giggling, “forever it is. don’t get bored of me any time soon then.”

“oh, don’t you worry, angel.” satoru chuckles, sighing the stress away in one deep breath, “i’ll never get bored of my favourite girl. never in a million years.”

he sits up on his bed before standing up and walking to the window of his hotel room. satoru looked outside while grabbing another snack from a nearby table.

the sky was beautiful; it reminded him of you, though your beauty was no match for the sky. you were prettier than nature itself.

“satoru.” you call out to him over the phone and he immediately snaps back to reality.

“yeah, baby?” he replies, unwrapping his chocolate bar with one hand in the meantime.

“be reaaaal honest with me. like really honest.” a grin forms on your face as you thought of what to say next.

“you know i always speak the truth with you,” satoru mutters with a smile while putting a piece of chocolate in his mouth, “go on.”

“how many of those chocolate bars have you eaten today?”

the question caught satoru off guard and he instantly stops chewing.

satoru turns his head to the left and then to the right, eyes narrowed and body in a defensive stand like somebody was going to attack him any time soon.

“wh— the hell? how did you know? don’t tell me you’ve been secretly watchin’ me the entire time.”

you could already picture the way he’s probably checking his entire hotel room at the moment. your poor boyfriend may be strongest, but not when it comes to such silly ‘scary’ stuff. it’s adorable.

“babe, you never go a day without eating that one specific chocolate bar.” you giggle softly, taking another bite of your own food, “i’ve come to know your eating habits by now.”

“that so?” satoru grins to himself as he puts another piece in his mouth, “what am i thinking at the moment then? if you know me so well.”

you roll your eyes and get up to put your dishes away, taking your phone with you to the sink. “hmm.. well let me think.”

“take all the time you need, baby.”

satoru constantly tells you that you’re always on his mind, so you figured that this time wouldn’t be any different.

you know it’d probably be something sappy that’ll make you both giggle uncontrollably.

“maybe, something like—“ you start in a teasing tone, “i don’t know, uhh— ‘i love you?’”

there it goes; the uncontrollable giggles and laughter that fill both of your ears. it felt like you were two young teenagers in love again.

“damn, i’m really that predictable, huh?” satoru eventually says, trying to catch his breath as his tummy started to hurt from laughing so much.

“nah. i’d say it’s the power of love.”

another fit of laughter follows.

so, the night went on and on; going from discussions about random stupid stuff to deep philosophical conversations and back to the cheesy, lovey dovey remarks.

and of course, the call wouldn’t end without a direct and sleepy ‘i love you’ from your dear boyfriend.

[coralinnii]

Hi! I saw that you were opening your requests for the next day or so to celebrate getting 2.7k followers! First off, I wanna say congratulations, and may you have a good day/night (almost wrote 'not' lol)!

Anyways, I read your rules, and wondered if I could get a fic with Leona, Vil, Malleus, and Lilia being in a relationship with a Venti! Reader? Essentially, Venti is a Genshin Impact character who plays the lyre, controls the wind, and has a playful personality.

‧₊˚✧ As Free as the Wind ‧₊˚✧

↳ Twst guys with a Venti!reader 

feat: Leona ❋ Vil ❋ Malleus ❋ Lilia  genre: humor, mild fluff note: no pronouns were used with the reader, Venti!reader is of legal age to drink, no spoilers regarding the Genshin Impact storyline, minor spoilers for TWST Book 7

Thank you reading my rules, always appreciate the extra effort people make! I deeply apologize for how late I am with this, but I hope you enjoy the post. Hopefully I captured Venti's personality well enough >_<'

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

Ooff, did he first thought you were a pain in his tail. 

Loud, cheeky, no fear of disturbing anyone for entertainment or favors… at least Ruggie has the decency to be useful. 

He scoffed when you smile and act as if he can’t sense a dangerous well of power within you, the playful persona you present may fool a common man but not Leona.  

He’ll play your game though. There’s no benefit to him to pry into your secrets. He finds this side of you, the one that would play a soft ballad for him for some booze money, much easier to deal with. 

This is a strange relationship, but Leona can respect someone strong and most of all, doesn't tell him what to do. You believe in free will and freedom above else, which Leona appreciates. 

“The concept of one king ruling over all... I can’t say I’m too interested in a land like that.” 

Leona laughed at your boldness. With you, there’s no sense about stuffy responsibilities and obligations. 

There are sweet days where you and Leona would spend the day in the greenhouse, Leona sleeping soundly as you play your lyre while humming your new poems, the wind carrying your melodic voice. 

“Huh, do you have a song for me? Hah, what do you want from me this time? Fine, I’ll let you play.”

Vil immediately clocked something powerful about you, your nonchalant persona is good, but you cannot fool a seasoned actor like him. 

No matter, though. Vil has no interest in delving into someone’s past like that. Vil assumes that if you must act so easy-going yet private about yourself, then he won’t pry into such things. One must have reasons, he supposed. 

However, Vil cannot let go of your pension for the “occasional” drink or two. Vil doesn’t care that you are older than your appearance suggest, alcohol impacts your body and health as you age so he rather you limit that little habit of yours. 

“Come now, Vil. Another bottle wouldn’t hurt~” 

“Hmmph, you don’t have to worry much about yourself when you’re drunk but I most certainly do, especially when you come to me reeking of wine.”

But you always managed to quell his anger by singing ballads and poems about your wonderful beloved Vil. That always lifts the Housewarden’s mood and you end up with a mere reprimanding. Hehe.

Vil will not, however, forgive you so easily if you get too mischievous with him. The beautiful man can respect your talent with wind and currents, but he doesn’t appreciate the gust you would conjure up if it messes up Vil’s appearance too much. 

“Don’t even think about running away from me. I know you were behind the sudden rush of wind, my mischievous one. Acting cute or sweet words is not going to work this time.”

However youthful you may appear, Malleus can sense an old soul within you which feels familiar and powerful. 

Malleus is often surprised by you, for your playful and bold nature while handling the wild winds as skillfully as you hold the lyre. You bear similarities to a certain someone that he can’t help but respect you and hold you to a higher regard than any typical being. 

Malleus doesn’t hate that easygoing personality of yours. On the contrary, he enjoys that spontaneous side of yours as you suggest the strangest of ideas to a powerful figure such as him. 

“Let's go jumping in puddles and see who can make the biggest splash!“

You are a sociable being, making friends so easily that it baffles the young fae. A few cute words from you and it was suddenly so easy to lower one’s guard around you. 

However, when you’re alone and don’t realize his presence, Malleus catches that gleam of loneliness in your eyes as you gaze from your tall resting spot. A look that Malleus feels a kinship with you in that regard.

”You would like to take a stroll with me tonight? Oh, a race in the sky, you say? Very well, but don't be conceited enough to believe I’m so easily bested.”

Dear Sevens, why would you ever let these two chaotic gremlins be in the same vicinity? Do you know no mercy for others?  

The two of you would hit it off so well, it’s almost concerning. Lilia finds you a delight to be around, almost a kindred spirit even. 

“So, you also took care of a dragon long ago.” 

“Yeap, but he sorta became a nation-wide threat when I decided to leave and go off on my own.” 

“Ah yes, those things do tend to happen.” 

(if you can’t tell who’s saying what, that really speaks to how similar a coincidence that was)

Jamming sessions ALL. THE. TIME. The campus has not known a single moment of rest as you display your musical talents in the courtyard while Lilia encourages you all the way, occasionally playing along with an instrument of his own.

Lilia is fascinated by your lyrical retellings of your world and would love to visit this kingdom that values freedom among all else, and of this dandelion wine you speak so lovingly about.

As a man with his own… history, Lilia isn’t the type to ask too much about you if he sees you dodging the question. He can recognize that familiar look of longing and loss, so Lilia doesn’t press further and instead indulge with you in one more glass of bittersweet wine. 

“What tales do you have to regale for tonight? I’m always captivated by these grand adventures of yours, it’s almost tempting for this old soul of mine, hehe.”

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 30

part 1 | part 29 | ao3

cw: Steve Harrington committing unforgivable thought crimes (besmirching LotR)

"Uh," Steve stammers as Eddie tugs him off the couch, because he just propositioned the guy while covered in snot and tears and wearing a blanket as a cape, and now that guy is holding his hand.

Eddie doesn't let go after he gets him to his feet. Their fingers lace together, and his palm is soft and warm, his fingers slightly callused. Steve can feel his own pulse pounding in his wrist.

"Simmer down," Eddie teases, "I'm not having sex with you. Yet," he adds with a lewd waggle of his brows when Steve puppy-dog pouts at him. "This is better than sex, anyway."

"If you're having shit sex, maybe.” Steve rolls his eyes and lets himself be dragged past a messy counter, where Eddie stops to grab a black lunch box and a cassette tape, a tissue for Steve’s face, then down the hall to Eddie's bedroom.

"My kingdom," he grins as he shoves the door open and waves Steve through with a bow.

His room is amazing. Awesome and terrible all at once: awesome, because it looks like someone put Eddie’s essence in a blender and ran the blades without a lid, and terrible, because the place is a fucking pigsty. There’s a bag of bread on the floor.

Eddie tells him to make himself at home, so Steve plops down on the edge of his bed, takes in the explosion of artwork tacked to the walls while Eddie buzzes around the room — swoops and swoons like a drunken bee, kicking shit into messy piles, sticking a cig in his mouth and forgetting to find the lighter, turning on the stereo. He pops in the cassette, and Steve lets out a surprised laugh when he hears the upbeat strumming.

"Rumours? Really? That's your 'better than sex' cure?"

Eddie cranks the volume. "It's workin’, ain't it?" he mumbles around the unlit cig.

Steve tries to frown and fails. "…Shut up."

Eddie snickers at him; gives him the cutest smile he's ever seen, nose scrunched up, eyes crinkled at the corners, then he tucks the cigarette behind his ear and shakes his hair out with a grimace. “Christ, it’s hot in here." His hands move to the hem of his shirt. "Look away or don’t, baby, I’m changin’!”

Steve smiles and averts his gaze, falling back on Eddie’s bed and looking at the ceiling with his legs dangled over the edge. In his periphery he can see Eddie hopping gracelessly around the dresser, trying to tug his foot out of the end of his skinny jeans, cursing under his breath; dropping all the ‘g’s off the ends of his words.

"I like your Southern accent."

"Do ya now?" Eddie throws it on thick, really hamming it up, "Well then, I reckon it's plum near the most attractive dad-gum thing y’ever did hear 'round these here pawrts."

Steve honks a mortifyingly stupid laugh, which makes Eddie laugh like a chime in a windstorm, which just makes Steve laugh even more, and maybe Eddie was right.

Maybe this is better than sex.

He wipes at his eyes, misty for a good reason for the first time all night, and when he looks up again Eddie’s dressed in his pajamas. Dark gray gym shorts, a black cut-off tank, the arm holes deep and loose to expose his armpit hair, his ribs.

Steve’s mouth goes dry.

Eddie’s wiry and pale, firm muscle wrapped around his string-bean frame, and he's covered in tattoos — black line art and gray shading, fantastical beasts and staffs and swords, a crazily-detailed set of serpent scales snaking up his side. But it's his legs that catch Steve's eye.

His legs are covered in words. Words and doodles everywhere, from his calves to his thighs, the lines wobbly and thick like Eddie put them there himself. There are quotes in sloppy cursive, longer ones in blocky print; a few stylized to look like comic book dialog, the words POW! and DANGER outlined in spiky bubbles above his knee. Steve wants to trace the lines; rehearse him like a poem, learn each ink stroke with his fingers until he can recite them all by heart.

Eddie catches him staring and gives a small, pleased grin. “Like what you see?”

Steve’s tongue feels too big for his mouth. “Yeah. I really do.”

The smile widens. Eddie clambers onto the bed, stepping over Steve’s head and plopping down beside him with his back against the wall, one leg drawn up, the other stretched out long and loose.

Steve shifts to lay the same direction, and his shoulder brushes Eddie’s leg, his wrist ghosting against his ankle bone. He doesn’t pull away; likes the look of their skin tones side by side — the smooth desert landscape of his inner arm, accented only by a few veins and moles; the riot of ink and art all along Eddie’s shin. Eddie’s feet are bare, and they’re wide, a little hairy (reminds Steve of Dustin’s nerdy ring book, and he almost says as much, but he knows Eddie’s even more obsessed with that shit than the kids are. He really doesn’t want the dude to pop a brain boner and spend the next four hours lecturing Steve about jewelry lore.)

“What are you giggling at down there?” Eddie nudges at his elbow.

“Nothing,” Steve says, and Eddie responds “All right then, keep your secrets” in a silly character voice. He stretches to the side and grabs a joint off the bedside table.

“Now,” he says, voice slipping into that deep, slow sing-song thing he does — his sales pitch tone, Steve realizes. “This part is, of course, completely optional, but. In my humble, expert opinion—”

“So humble,” Steve teases under his breath.

“—It really enhances the whole experience.”

“The Stevie Nicks Therapeu- thera-” Oh, screw it. “Un-saddening Experience?”

“That is correct.” He holds it out over Steve’s face, wiggling it in offering, and Steve thinks about his conversation with Robin over brunch:

"I can't believe you did coke.” "I can't believe you smoked weed." "I know." "Was it okay?" He hasn't tried weed since... "Yeah," she answers seriously. "Yeah, it was okay. It was nice, actually."

“Okay,” he decides. I trust you. “Let’s do it.”

Eddie puts the joint between his lips and lights it up.

—

part 31

listen i know it’s a quote from a movie that will not exist for another 16 years just let me have this. tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Poems

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist

summary: dean searches your room when you’re missing, and the love letters he finds break his heart

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.9k (1.5k excluding poems) 

warnings: reader goes/is missing, language, 

author’s note: please don’t make fun of my “poetry”, i know it’s not good that’s why i don't write poems lol

“Hey Dean, I’m working a case near Wichita so I’ll probably be back home by the end of the week. See you soon, bye.”

“That’s the last I heard from her,” Dean told his brother after playing him the message you left. “It’s been over a week, I’m gettin’ worried here!”

“Do you know what kinda case she was working?” Sam asked, Dean shook his head. “Okay, well I’m sure she’s fine, Dean. Let’s call the hospitals around where she is and ask if she’s there.”

“You do that, I’m gonna head to Wichita,” Dean replied.

“I think we should call the hospitals first, Dean. She said she was near Wichita, she could be anywhere from here to there!”

Dean sighed but agreed with Sam’s plan.

**

The boys had no luck with any of the hospitals so they decided to head over to Wichita and look for you. They searched for a few days before heading back to the bunker, hoping you might be there waiting for them. You weren’t, of course, and that only made their worry grow.

You’d been missing for nearly two weeks!  

Dean thought there might be some kind of clue in your room and decided that searching it was next on his to-do list. Though he knew he was grasping at straws, he did it anyway.

Opening the door to your room, he smiled at the poster near your bed. It was the one he’d gotten you for Christmas last year. It was a kind of gag gift—it was his favorite band. (His real gift had been much more thoughtful.)

He began his search at your desk, digging through the mess of papers splayed out on the wood surface. His brows furrowed when he found one paper in particular. It looked like… a love poem?

The way your hair looks in the morning

The way your laugh adds life to moments boring

The way your breath hits my neck when you’re standing just behind me

Reaching over to grab something off the table

A lore book, of all things to be

And the way your eyes light up when you look into mine

I swear I almost see a hint of love

Behind those piercing starlights

Your lips on mine is what I need

Did you hear me? 

I said kiss me, you fool!

We’ve not got much time

In this line of life 

And I need you at my side.

Dean didn’t know if the poem would be considered “good” in the public eye, but he knew it made his heart clench. You were in love? But… with whom?

To him, the words were beautiful, and the thought that you wrote them about someone else broke his fucking heart. He knew there were no clues to your whereabouts in the next poem, but of course, he read it anyway.

I think of you when I drive and spot a classic car

I think of you when I eat a cheeseburger 

And I’ll turn it upside down when I’m missing you

I think of you when I hear a Zepplin song

And I turn the music up when I’m not with you

I think of you when I see anyone wear flannel

Or a leather jacket that’s clearly a size or two too big

And I love to think of you

It just makes sense to me

I love to picture you beside me

At night when I can’t sleep

Or when I get scared of what I’m facing

I think of what you would do

Day or night

Night, day, or noon 

I always think of you

Whoever this mystery person was, they were fucking lucky. Dean had never felt so jealous in his entire life. He always thought you two had a “will they won’t they” side to your relationship but at that moment he realized it was completely one-sided. The fun, flirty side to all your late-night conversations had just been friendly. Two friends playfully talking as if they both wanted to be more.

Of course Dean wanted to be more. Of course he knew he wanted to be with you. But now? Now he knew he’d either missed his chance or he simply never had one.

You were in love with someone that wasn’t him. And the love you’d been writing about wasn’t the kind someone gets over. It’s the kind that sticks—for life. The kind that people write songs about, the kind that people fight wars over, and the kind that makes people go crazy in the best way. 

He knew he’d found that love when he first fell for you, but it turned out you had found that love in someone else.

“Anything?” Sam asked, walking into your room.

“Uhm,” Dean cleared his throat, hoping his eyes didn’t look as cloudy as they felt. “No, nothing important. Just some love letters or something.” 

Sam furrowed his brows and picked up one of the poems off the desk, one that Dean had not read yet. As the taller Winchester read what you wrote his eyes grew wide, practically popping out of his head as his mouth fell open.

“Oh my fucking god!” Sam exclaimed. “Y/n’s in love with you?” He looked at his older brother in shock.

“Me? No, these poems are about whoever she’s been seeing recently, they aren’t about me. We’re just friends.”

“You haven’t read this one yet, have you?” Sam asked with a small smile before handing it over.

You asked me today; “what’s your favorite color?”

And I just shrugged; “I don’t know, blue?”

Cause how could I have said the truth?

The color I love most in the world

The color that brings me nothing but joy

In this sad, awful little life

Is the green and hazel of your eyes

The emerald diamonds that shine

When you look into the sun

The soft hazel that looks over at me

When we’re reading in the library

How can I tell you all of this 

When the question is so simple and plain

How do I go into such specific detail

About the color I’m in love with

Without freaking you out

Or scaring you away

Or making you laugh at me

Because I know your favorite color 

And I know it’s not the color of my eyes

“You…You think this is really about me?” Dean asked his little brother, hoping Sam was right.

“Dean in all my life I have never seen anyone but you eat a burger bun-side-down,” Sam chuckled a little having read one of the poems Dean had read earlier.

“Oh my god.” Dean furrowed his brows, looking back down at the paper in his hands. “We’ve gotta find her, Sammy, I gotta tell her!”

“Tell her that you went through her stuff while she was gone? Don’t think that’s the best idea.”

“No! Tell her I’m in love with her! Tell her that the color of her eyes is my favorite fucking color too! And every time her favorite band comes on the radio I turn it up, and every time I see a woman wearing her type of clothes I think about her. Tell her that all I do every waking moment of every day is wish I was with her, wish I was holding her in my arms so I could never let go.”

“I think you just told her.” Sam smiled, nodding to where you now stood at your door. Dean turned around quickly. Tears of joy stung your eyes as you looked at him and smiled.

“You love me?” you asked.

“More than anything,” Dean admitted as he hurried to you. He wrapped you in a tight hug, kissing your temple quickly before he tucked your head under his chin. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call, it’s a long story,” you mumbled. “When vampires ban together with twisted humans, they’re a lot harder to kill.”

“We were really worried about you,” Dean admitted. “Like…fucking terrified.”

“Is that why you decided to dig through my personal shit?” you asked. You were one hundred percent kidding, but Dean was still nervous.

“Yeah…sorry,” Sam cringe-clenched his teeth, “it was my fault.”

You and Dean pulled back from the hug, but you took his hand in yours as you narrowed your gaze at the younger hunter.

“I know your tell, Sammy,” you said. “But it’s sweet that you’re trying to cover for Dean.” 

“Yep, all Dean’s fault,” Sam admitted before heading for the door, giving his brother a pat on the shoulder on his way out. “Good luck.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to invade your privacy, I swear,” Dean told you quickly. “I was looking for something that might tell me where the hell you were.”

“How many did you read?” you asked.

“Three,” Dean sighed, still thinking you were pissed at him.

“So…you know, then? That I’m hopelessly in love with you? And you think I’d be mad at you for looking through my stuff?”

“I mean, I know you value your privacy.”

“Dean,” you started, putting a hand on his cheek and turning his face to look down at you, “would you please just fuckin’ kiss me already?”

He seemed almost surprised by your question but he quickly smiled as he bent down and kissed you. His one hand stayed clasped in yours while his other went to your waist and then trailed to your lower back. The hand you had on his cheek went to the upper back of his neck so you could tangle your fingers in his hair. The smiles on both of your faces only grew before you both pulled away.

“Wow, I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Dean mumbled before he let out a short, breathy laugh.

“Me too,” you replied. 

**

You’d been back home for a few days now and you had explained the whole missing situation to the brothers. You told them how the simple vampire hunt turned sour quickly when you realized the small-town’s sheriff was in on it and helped the vamps with making humans just disappear. They’d made you as a hunter instantly and held you hostage for a few days before you killed your way out. 

Dean never left your side so when he saw a new poem on your desk his brows furrowed. Curiosity got the better of him as he sat down to read it.

My god aren't I lucky

Now that you're holding me at night

And that first time we kissed in the doorway

I could’ve sworn I was kissing pure sunshine 

When your lips hit mine it was better

Then I could’ve ever imagined

And the love poems I've written became

Manifested words of affirmation

The butterflies in my stomach fluttered

And the blood rushed to my head

Think I could stay like this forever

Won't overthink it, I’ll just go and kiss you instead

“Well, well, well.” You came up behind him, and put your hands on his shoulders before you trailed them down and clasped them together over his chest, leaning your chin on his shoulder and kissing his cheek. “Look who’s digging through my shit again.” You smiled against his skin. He turned his head and placed a deep kiss on your lips.

“I’m not even sorry this time, because I think this might be the best thing I’ve ever read.”

“I love you,” you said and kissed him again.

“I love you so fuckin’ much,” he mumbled back.

[cloudcountry]

Hi! It’s me Mario again 😅

So, I was watching Disney movie clips, and I remembered something... I look a lot like Snow White... And it's kind of ironic that I always preferred the Evil Queen..

And I was thinking... Maybe Vil dating mc who looks like Snow White? Maybe mc and Neige are siblings, but mc aren’t like him (personality) and went to NRC ‘cause it’s better...?

Idk what I just said :v

(mc can be gn, so everyone can identify <3)

SUMMARY: Vil Schoenheit and Rook Hunt with a S/O that's Neige's sibling.

WARNINGS: None!!

COMMENTS: omg this is so funny. but!! for the sake of making sure it's as inclusive as possible, i'll just be doing a s/o that's in the same family as neige!! ^^ no physical traits will be described!! apologies that this isn't exactly what you wanted but i want to make sure a lot of people can enjoy this ^^

Vil thinks you’re absolutely lovely, albeit a bit soft. You’re too kind and spoil the people you know too much, which prevents them from growing as people most of the time, but that’s just how you roll.

He very obviously doesn’t like your brother. Neige tries so hard to connect with Vil that you almost feel bad, but you remind your brother to respect Vil’s wishes as well.

It will definitely cause some tension in the relationship, especially during competitions. It will take a lot for him to open up to you about why he feels the way he does, but with enough patience and care, he will.

Seeing you talking about laughing with Rook does make him a bit bitter if you’re talking about your brother. Vil has been working so hard for perfection and this boy is so effortlessly perfect.

It’s going to take a while. I won’t lie to you, and neither will he. But after the events of Book Five, you’ll notice him being a lot more relaxed, even if most of Pomfiore doesn’t see the same.

Rook obviously knows Neige has a sibling. Though, that’s not exactly a surprise considering he talks about you all the time in interviews. He dotes on you relentlessly, even though many of Neige’s fans are put off by your sneakiness. The contrast between the two LeBlanche siblings didn’t matter though, and Rook was enamored with your loveliness when he first saw you.

He composes poems in your honor and leaves them at your desk. Neige’s sibling at NRC has certainly stirred up commotion in his fan circles, but Rook makes it his mission to make sure you’re never uncomfortable with the attention. (Mostly by hanging around you himself because, well...it’s not like many would come near him anyway.)

Eventually, you find yourself charmed by his love for all things beautiful. He’s delighted when you tell him so, swooning. Cue a speech about how beautiful and tender young love is!!

Truly, he adores you. If there is a puddle on the sidewalk, Rook will take off his jacket and lay it down so you don’t have to dirty your shoes. There is not a day where you will feel unloved with him around!!

He’s simply delighted that you chose NRC instead of RSA. Truly, he doubts he would have met you so soon as he did if you hadn’t made that choice! Besides, with your unexpected deviousness, you definitely fit into NRC more anyways ^^

[queenie-official]

Okay so you’re one of the only ones I’ve seen mention AJ recently so I wanted to come to you with this thought. You know the ‘write a prisoner’ website it went around tiktok for a little? Well I was thinking, in a universe where his ending is different (no spoilers just in case your other followers haven’t watched it) reader finds him on the write a prisoner site and they become penpals. You’re able to develop a genuine connection with one another and he’s able to talk and vent to you about everything that’s gone wrong/right in his life and you’re able to do the same thing. He ends up writing you sappy little poems and love notes eventually cause he realizes you are more than just a penpal to him. At some point you end up surprising him with an actual visit and it just solidifies his feelings being able to finally see you in person. If we’re going off of the mafia!au for him, then maybe he ends up having some of his men on the outside start to keep tabs on you..solely for protection purposes of course not because he wants to make sure he’s the only guy you’re talking to. There’s a couple videos I saw where the girls were still able to be surprised with flowers on the doorstep somehow by their penpal and I definitely feel like he’d do the same thing. There’d be a line in one of his notes afterwards of like ‘Did you get my little surprise, sweetheart? Just wait till you see how much I can really spoil you once I’m out of here.’ Ahhh maybe it’s just me that gets all giggly at this idea. Idk just a little thought 😅

main masterlist

OMG STOP I LOVE THIS SM!!

okay so ima break this up a bit because it’s easier for my brain to focus 😭 will start with looking at it from Aj’s character and then from if it was Mafia!Ani

(i’d also like to state idk how the ‘write a prisoner’ website works exactly but i feel like it’s pretty self explanatory so ima just roll with how it works in my mind)

Aj: becoming pen pals with a prisoner and bonding is a lot easier then you went into the website thinking, you only really go in with the fact you’ll be speaking with a criminal. once you see his photo your interest is peaked (i mean how could it not look at him)

anyway you guys start off with simple topics when messaging like favorite hobbies and Aj mentions to you that he has a love for playing the piano- (idk about you guys but there’s nothing hotter then a man who can play an instrument and play it well) maybe he even makes a promise to you that when he gets out he’ll play for you.

and Aj is such a sweetheart he so would write you poems maybe he starts off with something simple and sweet that can be interpreted in a friend way because for as confident as a guy he is you make him nervous. he only started writing you poems once you two where close enough for him to feel safe and be open with his thoughts and how he got into this situation. and honestly you don’t think he’s to bad of guy after all he never went out of his way to kill anyone during a heist and he always made sure to donate a percentage to charity organizations, so you’re able to push the fact he’s a criminal aside.

as your relationship with him progresses and his friendly poems slowly turn into something more you realize how badly you want to visit him. to see his pretty face in person (even if it is behind a glass frame) and to hear the voice you’d been imagining in your head. so with all the courage you can muster you do some digging and make plans to surprise him. Oh boy are you grateful you went through with it- seeing him in person was almost surreal. somehow he was more handsome in person and furthermore his gravely voice was definitely hotter then you ever could of imagined. he’s a smooth talker, seemingly more bold in person then he was through a screen (which shocked you since with most people it’d be the opposite). oh and when he sees you… sees your smile- the way you flutter your lashes when listening to him speak- he knows he’s done for, knows that there’s no one else he wants more in his life and even more importantly he cannot wait for his release date.

you make the effort to visit him as often as you can…

Mafia!Anakin: we all collectively agree Ani is a possessive man- even if he doesn’t always show it but Mafia Ani, oh that man isn’t afraid to show he’s possessive in fact as far as he’s concerned he owns you. so to no one’s surprise he 100% has men on the outside looking after you. making sure you’re safe, single unbothered by those around you.

Anakin has connections everywhere, i mean he’s the top boss. so if he wants to surprise you with something he will, and he’s got the money for it so honestly what’s stopping him?

waking up and getting ready to start your day only to here your doorbell go off, opening your front door to see a huge bouquet of flowers. it really confuses you at first- i mean you don’t really talk to other guys (probably because every time you did they suspiciously disappeared- if you had their number and messaged them all they’d say is they moved away) so who are they from. taking them inside and seeing a note on the ground that must of fallen out of the bouquet your question is answered.

‘Hope you like them Pretty girl’

it’s not even signed but you know exactly who it’s from. of course you confront him at your next visit, and once you do all he does is give you a sly little smile through the glass as you both hold the phone next to your ears.

‘just wait till you see how much i can really spoil you once i’m out of here’

ugh that resonantes with me sm 😩 he 100% would say that and then swiftly move the conversation along as you blush silently, something about how he said it or maybe it’s the look in his eyes that leaves you flustered.

i think i ranted a bit to much about this 😀 my apologies huns 😭 but anyways you’re so real for this and thank you for dropping it in my asks 🫶🏼

you’re actually my first ask too so 🤭🤭 thank you for the absolute serotonin boost this gave me Xx <3

[crossbackpoke-check]

Hello, im wehaveagathering from my main blog, im kind of obsessed with your hockey poetry edits and I think your blog is great! I guess I kind of have a dumb question, where do you find the images you use for your edits? Did you say Getty in your tags?? I’ve gotten into making icons recently (and i have ideas for poetry edits hrrrghhh) but it’s hard to find high res images. Thanks for your time and I hope you have a nice day :)

first of all thank you so much 🥹 and second that’s absolutely not a dumb question!! i do pull a lot of images from getty and i’ll also download pictures from sports articles (i got a lot of the hugheses pictures from online access articles, for example), or sometimes from instagram/facebook/twitter if an account is public. freely admitting that i am not technologically advanced? inclined? in the slightest here, but the image editing software that you use and how you import/export photos with it makes a difference in the quality of them as well!

if you haven’t seen them yet, i would also recommend checking out @simmyfrobby @national-hockey-lesbian @hauntedppgpaints @tapedsleeves @starscelly and @captainbradmarchand’s blogs just off the top of my head!!! they might know more places to get high res images and also i love their work 💕🫶

[slasher-male-wife]

Slashers on Valentines day

Happy Valentines day everyone. I'm single so I don't really have anyone to celebrate with but who cares when I still get chocolate and can watch a campy slasher movie centered around the holiday. This is kind of a random selection of slashers including Danny because he's my baby girl and I saw really cute Valentines day themed fan art of him. Anyway I hope y'all enjoy <3

Includes: Hannibal Lecter, Harry Warden, Candyman, The Sinclair brothers, Amanda Young and, Danny Johnson

Warnings: Mentions of murder and gore kind of

Hannibal Lecter

He's obviously cooking for you today. You're not to step foot into the kitchen because he's taking care of all of it himself. You're getting spoiled today and that's final.

He's going to buy you something expensive that you'll love. It might be a ring or a new bag, maybe an entirely new outfit. Whatever he sees fit to give you. He doesn't expect you to get him anything but if you do he's very thankful.

He's probably taking you to the opera with him. Something high brow and fancy for his lovely s/o, nothing but the best for you on a very special day.

I can see him spending the evening drawing you too. You're probably in his study, drinking wine and doing something relaxing while he sketches you and recites love poems.

Harry Warden

He's going to be busy murdering people on Valentines day so he's not going to be able to do much of anything with you.

But he is going to bring you whatever he thinks you'll like. Flowers, chocolate, a card addressed to one of his victims, whatever he finds he's giving you.

He doesn't really enjoy having decorations up for Valentines day. Having pink and red themed decor is fine with him but explicit Valentines day decorations aren't his jam.

While he isn't there on the actual day, he's going to be there after Valentines day and that's when he's going to shower you with love and affection.

Candyman

It's going to a very romantic day overall for you. Lots of your favorite flowers around your house/apartments waiting for you when you wake up. Maybe some chocolate but probably a little honeycomb too.

He's going to steal you all of the gifts he gets you. Mostly expensive jewelry he thinks you'll like or you've pointed out to him.

Oh and he is most definitely writing you a love letter pages long, listing off every detail of why he loves you and what he would do for you.

Of course he's going to be spending the entire day with you. You're not going out but you're going to enjoy time spent with him in your house together.

Vincent Sinclair

He's going to give you whatever gifts he can make/get you for the occasion. He doesn't have access to most traditional things for Valentines day so it might just be a painting or a love letter, but he's trying ok?

He wants to spend the entire day with you. He usually spends a lot of time with you anyway but especially on this special day. He'll keep Bo away so he doesn't make stupid comments about you two, and Lester won't bother you at all.

He might want to try slow dancing with you since he's never done it before and he sees couples do it in romance movies all of the time. He might suck at it but he doesn't really care because it's with you.

He's going to end the day with a nice dinner between the two of you. He pulled out an old cook book to use for this and he did a pretty good job at cooking it too.

Lester Sinclair

He's going to get you all of the stereotypical gifts, chocolate, flowers, a card, etc. He just loves you so much and he wants to spoil you every once and awhile you know?

He's going to take you out to an actual town where the two of you can really be a couple. You're probably just going to be walking/driving around and getting dinner but it's the thought that counts.

Lots of physical affection too. Like he wants to always have a hand on you today. He thinks that he can't fully express how much he loves outside of giving you hugs, kissing you, holding your hand, etc.

He's probably taking pictures of all of this. I can see him being a sentimental person so spending a special day with you is something that he's going to want to document.

Bo Sinclair

He thinks the whole idea of the day is stupid. But that doesn't mean he isn't going to do something special with you for Valentines day. He can be a gentleman when he wants to and today is one of those days.

He'll probably get you flowers. Nothing too special, he'd ask Vincent what flowers to get if he doesn't know your favorite flowers are. I feel like Vincent could go off on a big thing about the different meanings of flowers but he knows Bo doesn't care so he'll just say roses.

I feel like he would maybe get you a ring that matches one of his. Partly to sell the idea that you're married to victims, partly because he's a possessive guy and likes the idea of you always being reminded who you're dating.

He also expects you to be romantic. He knows you can't do much because you can't leave town without him but he still expects you to do something like cook him something special or write him a love letter if you're that kind of person.

Amanda Young

She also thinks Valentines day is stupid. She's never been much of a romantic and probably has never been in a healthy romantic relationship, let alone an actual relationship.

Like Bo she's still getting you something. If you're like her she's getting you a gothic box of chocolate and maybe flowers (They do sell gothic boxes of chocolate and I'm in love with them).

She will happily go out to dinner with you. She somewhat expects you to plan it and pay for at least half of the dinner. I can see her getting dressed up if it's a more fancy restaurant and looking so pretty.

She's also going to rub it in Hoffmans face that she has a partner who loves her and that she got spoiled while he probably sat home alone doing whatever he does.

Danny Johnson

He's going to make a scrap book of all of his favorite pictures of you and share it with you. Pointing out the ones he likes the best or ones with fun stories behind them.

Because he's an obsessive little shit he knows all of your favorite things and he's going to get them for you. Expect to find your favorite flowers, candy, drink, etc on your kitchen table in the morning.

Maybe does a romantic photo shoot with you. He wants to pick out some aspects of it but will let you pick out outfits to wear. He's going to spend half the time actually taking pictures and half posing you so he has an excuse to touch you.

If you're as morbid and crazy as him then he's going to get you an actual heart. It might be human, it might be an animals heart he got at the butcher, ok it's probably a real heart that he says is an animals.

[ilguna]

☼ breathtaking pt2 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; you thought that you were going to go into the arena without ever meeting your soulmate. little did you know, he's been next to you the whole time.

warnings; swearing, gore, death mention

wc; 2.7k

part one.

–

There’s hope that you’ll make it out of this alive, after all. 

While you and Finnick were discovering you were soulmates, the Capitol anthem was playing its last few notes, when they began to shut off the cameras. And further, the lights that lit up the stage, in a final attempt to cut you off from the outside world, and the audience that sat feet away.

They were entirely too late.

It was pitch black on the stage, causing confusion and minor chaos as all twenty-four of you struggled to make it to the elevators. You lost your district partner in the mess, you think he let go of your hand on purpose to try and make it out of the crowd faster. Which you would be mad about, if it weren’t for Finnick holding onto you tightly, guiding both you and Mags to the elevator, where Johanna managed to slip in just before the doors shut. 

Inside, Finnick didn’t waste any time, grabbing your shoulders to tell you that he’d find you inside of the arena. If he didn’t, then you’d need to find him. There was a bigger alliance, and you’d be safer if you joined it. He didn’t have time to tell you who exactly was in it, before the elevator doors opened and he left with Mags.

You’ve been thinking about it since.

Finnick cares that you’re his soulmate, enough to the point where he wants to protect you inside of the arena. It wouldn’t be such a heinous idea, if it weren’t for the fact that you thought that Finnick was already taken, especially with that poem he did during his interview. Unless, it was meant for his soulmate, who he knew was watching at that moment, but unaware that it was him.

As for a bigger alliance, you have no clue what that means. You spent all three training days trying to figure out who was going to ally with who. The only alliance you managed to figure out was the most obvious one: the careers. As for everyone else, they’re some gigantic mystery.

If you had to guess now, you’d say that Johanna, Blight, Finnick and Mags are together. Which is a regular sized alliance, it’s not big by any means. You’re not entirely sure who else would be inclined to join something like that. Johanna and Finnick are intense people to be around, inside of an arena, it’s got to be worse.

At that rate, you’d say Katniss and Peeta, but they were entirely uninterested in Finnick and Johanna the whole week. You can’t see them all deciding to survive together in the arena. Unless, that’s what they want you to think, because they’re all similar in some way.

Still, that’s not necessarily a bigger alliance. That still falls under the career category, which means there are more people. You couldn’t even guess who they are, if you wanted to.

It doesn’t matter, you’ll be finding out in a few minutes anyway.

You fix the wetsuit on your body, straightening it to feel more comfortable. When you’re done, you pull your hair out of your face, knowing that it’ll give you a clearer sight above. You’re really hoping that it’s not going to be anything too extreme. You don’t want the desert, but you don’t want a frozen tundra, either. And you sure as hell don’t want the same nightmare arena that Haymitch lived through.

“It’s time.” Your stylist tells you.

You turn towards the cylinder that’ll raise you to the surface, stepping onto the metal plate. You take a few deep breaths to calm the anxiety that’s beginning to rise in your stomach. You did this one, which means that you’ll be able to do it again. You can do this. 

The glass door slowly slides shut, sealing you inside of the tube. You turn away from your stylist to face the wall, and then close your eyes when you begin to get lifted.

A warm breeze washes over your skin, telling you to open your eyes to see where they’ve placed you this year. When you do, you’re met with a white light, blinding you instantly. You spend several vital seconds blinking away the sun.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games begin!” 

A tight pain strikes your chest when you realize what you’re in the middle of. You slap both of your hands over your mouth, taking half a step backward, when you realize that you can’t go any further without accidentally killing yourself. You’re completely surrounded by beautiful blue water, before it would be grey.

You look over your shoulder, and you let out a breath of relief when you see a beach, and beyond that, a dense forest. No, not a forest. It’s much too lush and crowded to be just that, and the trees are too tall to compare to anything from home. The higher the branch, the bigger the leaves. That’s a jungle. A vibrant and healthy green jungle.

You turn back to face the golden cornucopia, and the island it sits on. From what you can tell, there’s twelve spokes coming out of the island, which means two tributes toa  wedge. All you do is glance to your right, and you’re met with the girl from Six, who’s hugging herself right now, bony hands pulling her shoulders inward.

What are the chances she’s a part of the alliance? Does she know that you joined last night? No, how could she? There was no way to communicate after the interviews. If she’s not, will she pull herself together long enough to come and attack you as soon as the gong sounds? If it came down to it, you’d be able to kill her, considering she’s barely on her feet.

You angle yourself away from her and toward the spoke, not willing to even take the chance that she’s on your side. 

You can’t imagine how Finnick must be feeling at this moment. He’s got to be ecstatic over the fact that he’s got the advantage this year. He’ll have no issue cutting through the waves. While you’re going to struggle to get to the spoke without drowning.

Fortunately, you know how to swim, you’re just rusty. It’ll all come back to you once you’re in the water, you just need to have a little hope. Although, the more you stare into the blue, you’re not sure if you can even bring yourself to get inside. Who knows how deep it goes beneath you?

The gong sounds, and you don’t move from the metal plate because of the paralyzing fear that’s telling you the water is too dangerous to get in. You watch as Six girl jumps into the water without hesitating, splashing around in the water until she gains momentum, heading to the spoke on her side.

When you look up, you’re met with the sight of a few other victors who also don’t move from their plates. 

Well, if Six girl hasn’t died yet, that means you won’t either. You suck in a deep breath of air before you dive into the water. You’re pleasantly surprised that the water’s warm, but it’s salty. The moment it hits your eyes, you can’t see straight anymore, and you rely of blind faith to get you to the rocks.

You know you’re pointed in the right direction, so you do your best with swimming that way. You know you’ve got to look ridiculous, but there’s got to be other victors that are embarrassing themselves more. You’re sure there’s a good number of them that don’t even know how to. You’re one of the lucky few that got taught in Five when you were young.

It feels like you’re in the water forever, until your hand hits the rock. You pull yourself out of the water, wiping at your eyes to get the saltiness away. You cough out the taste, face twisted at how gross it is. 

You get to your feet, eyes searching the open cornucopia mouth. All you can see is Katniss, a bow in her hand, digging through a pile of golden weapons. There’s got to be a knife in that pile with your name on it. That would be a good start to the Games, if you had something to defend yourself with.

As if Katniss is reading your thoughts as they come through, her head jerks up. An arrow is on her bow in the time it takes you to blink. You let out a panicked noise, covering your head as you drop to the rock to avoid being pierced. You can hear the whistle of the arrow flying over you.

“Fuck.” You murmur, daring to look up to see if she’s got another arrow for you.

She’s gone, though. And so is the theory that she’s part of the alliance that Finnick was talking about. What are the chances that Finnick was bluffing to you about that alliance to make you feel better about joining him? Did he really think you had anyone else to join?

Your chances at getting that knife are gone, the careers will be at that cornucopia in a matter of seconds, now. You get off your stomach and book it down the rocks, before careful not to trip on the way to the beach. You need to find Finnick. You’re completely weaponless, and there’s safety in numbers, usually.

Your shoe sinks into the sand, you stumble for a few steps before you catch your footing. Everything in you is screaming to run into the jungle, because you know that you’ll be hidden from the victors that specialize in long-range weapons. If you stay here, it’ll be easier to pick you out to kill.

You don’t move though, hesitating like you did on the metal plate, watching and waiting. You’re not even sure what for. You jerk away from the spoke when you see the careers picking through the weapons on the ground, but you don’t move from where your feet are planted in the sand.

That’s when you see them, three victors running into the jungle, a fourth one with grey hair being carried. The infamous trident that got him his win in his hand. 

You start running down the beach, arms pumping at your sides as you take short and quick breaths. You need to catch up to them before they get lost in the jungle. You need to be with Finnick if you plan on making it out of this alive.

You cross five spokes in the matter of two minutes, which you're sure will be some record. You swing yourself around the same tree that you saw them pass by, putting you on the right track. The adrenaline that you had used up until this point is dissipating the further you run up the hill, sucking all of the energy from your body.

It’s too hot to be going at this rate, it would be smarter to pace yourself. Especially with how badly you’re sweating, you don’t even know where the nearest fresh water source is—and that’s assuming the arena has one. 

The good news is that the path that Finnick is taking becomes clearer the further you go. The vegetation is harshly cut in odd ways, which means they must be swinging at it to make it easier to get through. If they’re traveling this quickly, that means you have to, too.

You’re not sure how long you’re running for, or why you’re still so far behind that you can’t even see them a little. It gets bad enough to the point that you begin to doubt that you’re even following the right path. What are the chances that someone else picked up a trident and you’re ignorantly following them?

You swear you saw Mags—

A sharp pain slices through your cheekbone, your head whips to the left, following the momentum of the weapon. You twist, tripping over your ankles as you fall to your knees, one hand cupping the fresh wound, and the other catches you from falling any further down the hill.

“Stop!” A familiar voice shouts, “Katniss—don’t!”

“Why?”

You’ve done it this time. Katniss already wants to kill you, and you’ve just managed to chase her a whole mile into the jungle without even knowing. What are the chances you can explain this and get away with it?

You turn to see who’s with her, and you’re relieved to see that you’ve been following the right people, after all. Finnick’s coming down the hill, curls bouncing with every step. “It’s just (Y/n), she’s our ally.”

“Ally?” Katniss echoes, she doesn’t look very happy.

“Yes.” Finnick doesn’t seem affected by her tone. 

He stops in front of you, offering his hand. There’s a small smile on his face, pleased that you managed to find him. You take it, allowing him to pull you to your feet. He gently moves your hand away from your cheek so he can get a look at it for himself, thumb rubbing underneath it.

“It’s not deep, she grazed you.” He tells you.

“Another couple inches and I’d be dead.” You murmur.

“That’s what you get for trampling through the jungle.” He laughs, “You’re not very discreet.”

“You’re lucky I caught sight of you, at all.”

The two of you wander up the hill, where you find Katniss, Peeta and Mags. Your theory about them being allies wasn’t so far off, it looks like. If it keeps going like this, you’re sure Johanna and Blight will join, and then you’ll be at seven. The numbers will probably stop there, you can imagine.

“Well, you two are close.” Katniss says bitterly, “Didn’t even know you two knew each other.”

“Well, when you’re soulmates, it’s almost like your whole world view changes.” You say.

Katniss nods slightly, “I’m going to climb a tree, get a better view on the cornucopia.”

“We’ll be down here.” Peeta says.

You take a seat next to Mags in the shade, trying to get your breathing back on track after running for so long in this heat. For a minute, you were sure that you were going to pass out.

While other victors might’ve trained for this day, you didn’t bother. 

“How—?” Finnick manages to get out, before the tinkling noise of a sponsor gift silences him. 

The four of you look into the air, curious on where it’s coming from, and who it must be for this early on. Normally, when you’re mentoring, you try to hold onto the sponsors until the most important moments. Every penny counts. However, you guess that the gifts are so cheap right now that it won’t even make a difference.

The medium-sized container lands right in front of you. You share a look with Finnick, unsure about opening it. 

“It can’t hurt.” He says.

You reach forward, moving the parachute out of the way before you pop open the lid. In the middle of the container sits a small slip of paper, with the word ‘congrats’ written on it. There’s a knife beneath it, beautifully carved with a sharp and curved blade. This is meant for you, there’s no question about it.

You begin to inspect it in your hand, when the sound of tinkling begins again.

“What’s happening?” Peeta asks.

“Congratulations gifts.” Finnick says, he catches this one in his hands. When he opens the lid, he lets out a laugh, “Water.”

You’re on your feet in an instant to see for yourself. There’s five bottles inside of the container, one for each of you. You take one out, and laugh for yourself, because they’re cold. You press the bottle to your forehead for a minute, before opening it and taking a few sips.

Peeta gets to his feet, coming over to grab one for himself. You move around Mags, grabbing Finnick’s shoulder to make him lean in your direction. You cup your hands to block what you’re saying from the Capitol, “We’re going to play this up, aren’t we?”

Finnick turns to you with the biggest grin, eyes dancing over your face, “You know it, darling.”

[sttoru]

DON’T STOP.

༄ sypnosis. you ramble about one of your recent adventures while sitting on your boyfriend’s lap as he’s working.

༄ note. small and quick fic i wrote inspired by an arabic poem: “don’t shorten your speech, i love your details.” by zaid al hourani. didn’t re-read it. repost.

༄ tags. al-haitham x female reader. just fluff, bits of angst and comfort.

“so then, i walked up towards the cave and you won’t even guess what i saw..”

you were rambling about your recent adventure out in the deserts of sumeru while sitting on your boyfriend’s lap. al-haitham was at his desk in his study, busy scanning through the stack of papers and scrolls in front of him.

you’d told him earlier that you could just leave him alone if he needed some space to finish his work, however al-haitham insisted that you’d stay with him.

as much as he didn’t want to admit it out loud, he loved having you near him in any type of way. it’s somehow comforting and it takes his mind off of all the stress he’s having about his work as the akademiya’s scribe.

you continue to happily tell your tale while your eyes were focused on al-haitham’s face. however most of the time his eyes wouldn’t look back at yours at all— not even sparing you a quick glance.

al-haitham’s distant gaze was solely focused on the words that were written down on the papers before him.

he was silent and only nodded or hummed ever so slightly while you talked to him. gradually, your boyfriend stopped those small reactions all together.

it left you with a weird, tinge of disappointment in your chest. of course, you hadn’t expected al-haitham to full out react to your story since he was busy. plus, he usually doesn’t give too big of a reaction anyway.

you still felt like a nuisance for sitting on his lap as he worked, even though al-haitham verbally asked you to stay with him earlier.

you hadn’t noticed that your voice was trailing off the more you got lost in thought, yet al-haitham was quick to realise.

it didn’t look like it to you, but your boyfriend had been listening all along. he was skilled at multi-tasking and especially at the moment, where it came to dividing his attention between you and his work.

“keep going, love.” the scribe finally replies with the slightest of a smile as he keeps reading the contents of the document, “i promise, i’m listening.”

one of his hands move to hold onto yours. his thumb rubs over the skin of your palm, fingers slowly massaging the flesh. it was his indirect way of comforting you.

you smile softly at al-haitham’s words and actions before continuing your story. despite it all, you decided to keep the unnecessary details out of the way and focus on finishing your words as soon as possible so al-haitham could complete his duties afterwards.

“my love.”

your boyfriend’s voice interrupts you mid-sentence and you stop talking to look at him with a puzzled expression, “yeah?”

al-haitham sighs softly, putting his pen down and pushing the papers to the side for the time being. your heart felt like it stopped and your stomach dropped; did he want you to stop? does he finally find your rambling too distracting?

“you’re cutting the details.” the scribe says as he gently puts a strand of hair behind your ear.

“huh?” your eyes widen at his words. you didn’t even know how he caught up on such a minor thing.

al-haitham brings your hand up to his lips and places a few delicate kisses on each of your knuckles. his warm breath on your skin and the affectionate glimmer in his eyes as he finally looked back at you were almost too much to bear.

“please, do not shorten your speech, my dearest.” he whispers, moving his lips up to kiss each of your fingertips. “speak your mind. i promise that i will be here to listen to every word you utter.”

it was in that moment that you realised that al-haitham had been paying full attention to your words this entire time. it couldn’t be otherwise since he easily figured out that you were leaving out details.

al-haitham slowly adjusted you on his lap by holding onto your hips and bringing your body closer to his— your back pressed against his chest.

“can you do that for me?” he eventually adds, looking at your eyes and then at your other facial features which he fancies equally.

to say that you were flustered by the sudden attention from your boyfriend was quite an understatement, though either way, you nodded.

“y- yeah, sure. i will.” you manage to get those words out before clearing your throat.

al-haitham smiles softly at this and places a soft kiss on your cheek. “there’s my girl. thank you.”

your boyfriend then continues to pick up his pen again while his other hand stays on your waist. his fingers absentmindedly play with the fabric of the clothes you’re wearing.

you pick up your story from where you had left it at; this time recalling it without any details missing— just how your boyfriend likes it.

[zvdvdlvr]

Hey I was wondering if I could request some relationship headcanons for Ponyboy or/and ( what ever you feel more comfortable with lol)Johnny. I get it if you don't wanna lol

❤️

─ dating ponyboy curtis headcanonz

☆ - warnings :: physical injury, alcohal, (past) self harm, past major character deaths, pet names, vague mention of a physical fight,

☆ - k.j.'s diary says... i might die if i don't have my own ponyboy michael curtis

𖥸 antici-

before johnny and dally died, pony would never find the balls to talk to you, especially if you're a Soc

honestly wouldn't be to picky about looks but if you're a looker than even better 🤷‍♀️

but anyway, pony is super closed off after his friends' deaths

if you were dating hefore he went missing, then chances are he'll only talk to you at first

general dating HC's:

super cuddly in private

not big on PDA: hand holding, linked pinkes, arm-in-arm, a kiss on the cheek... that's about it

but when you're at the house or alone you already know ponyboy is gonna be lovin' on you like no tomorrow ♡

lowkey into pet names, specifically sweetheart, darlin', baby, angel

absolutely melts if you called him pet names too

loves when you where his clothes, it makes him feel proud to know you feel safe and protected enough to wear his- his!- clothes

private relationships >>> secret relationships

ponyboy would only really tell the gang about being with someone only when he knew you were a good thing for him

that would be about... a year into your relationship

pony's slowly learning to be a kid again after everything he saw and did, so never rush him or push him to talk about 'those days' unless he comes to you first

loves forhead kisses

writes down lines from books and poems and songs that remind him of you

made a playlist or twelve he plans to give to you someday, maybe after you get married (if that's something you both want)

you and the gang are what keeps him going. make sure that you tell/show him that he's okay and you see how good of a person he is. ponyboy curtis needs reassurance.

loves little spooning almost as much as he loves big spooning

honestly a cuddlebug

like pony is just so soft and warm he just ugh.,&@(

would ask you to help him bleach his hair again when the original color started showing :( <3

the rest of the gang would love you because you keep the curtis brothers intact and well. that's a lot to say most days

would get in a fight for u even if it meant going to jail

always goes straight to you after a fight

after all, you're his home, his person, his love

if anyone can take care of him: it's you

the first 'i love you' was from him

after a fight he was getting cleaned up by you

you were both in the living room, occasionally glancing over at darry and soda to make sure they were still breathing (they both got concusions) and were about to wake both of them up when pony stopped you

"i love you, y/n. i love you. you don't have to day it back or anything, i just- i just wanted to tell you."

you softened, and gingerly tilted his head up to place a soft kiss on his lips

"i know, sweet boy. i love you too."

manz was purring fr

-pation 𖥸

[obae-me]

Overtired obey me characters? Over tired obey me characters.

Overtired Obey Me characters? Hmm yes yes, this is very good, a very good image indeed. I’ve included little blurbs for all the characters minus mephisto, thirteen, and raphiel! 

--

Lucifer is well known for this. It always seems that he runs entirely on coffee and spite. Taking care of his brothers and helping Diavolo run a kingdom isn’t exactly the lightest of workloads, and with his perfectionism, he’ll stop short of nothing of exemplary. Of course, in doing so, he often neglects his own needs, sometimes believing that he’s simply controlling himself by not giving into temptation like his brothers. Perhaps just an excuse he tells himself to push himself to work harder. It doesn’t always spiral out of hand, he tends to know his limits, but there are days that are worse than others. Days when he’s so tired he’ll go to the kitchen to finally fetch himself some food only to forget why he went there in the first place, walking out with simply a cup of tea or coffee instead. Other days he’ll refuse to sleep until his paperwork is done, falling asleep at his desk as soon as he signs his signature on the last page, missing breakfast the next morning.

He’s softer when he’s exhausted, his more hidden feelings coming to light, the burning Pride faltering as he has no further energy to fuel his sin’s flame. Grumpiness and irritation takes more vivacity than it seems, so he doesn’t even have the wherewithal for those emotions. He’ll misplace things, wander confused around the halls, speak in a tone so soft it almost scares his brothers more than when he sounds frustrated. Even the Anti-Lucifer League can hardly find it in them to mess with him when he’s this gone. It’s no fun pranking him anyway when he’ll hardly react to it... Plus if they get too close, he might coddle them, and that’s the last thing they want. 

His brothers do try to help, even the...disgruntled ones. Who knows how that relaxing book of poems and the stray pillow landed in Lucifer’s office? Mammon does what he does best. Stealing. Where did Lucifer’s paperwork go? Who knows? Maybe Lucifer would find them the next morning. Beel makes sure Lucifer eats, ensuring it makes the body warm and tired. Why does the House smell like comforting lavender and chamomile? Asmo certainly didn’t have a hand in that. Of course not.  

He’s usually quite intuitive when it comes to his brothers antics, but by the time he figures out they’re all coaxing him to sleep, it’s too late. Heavy eyelids can only stay open for so long. He struggles with his pride, trying to determine whether it’s better to finally give in, sleeping in his bed for once, or sticking out as long as he can, falling asleep in his office chair or one of the House’s many couches. If he doesn’t manage to make it to bed, he’ll find himself there when he wakes up with no memory of actually getting in on his own, although none of the brothers will admit to moving him, keeping his Pride intact...mostly.

--

Mammon being exhausted is a pretty rare sight. Everyone always jokes about how much they wish he would just sit down and be quiet, leave them alone, stay out of trouble. It’s not until he actually does that everyone becomes concerned. It’s very uncommon, but not unheard of. He does work part-time jobs to earn more money, not including his photoshoots he has fairly often. Both of those, plus classes, plus dealing with Lucifer’s punishments, plus his brothers constant beratements, plus taking the time to keep an eye on his siblings even if they’re unaware he is...it can make even the Great Mammon run ragged. While the brothers might constantly say that they wish for the day their greedy brother takes things seriously...it’s only because they’re terrified when it does happen. And it does happen. 

When he’s overtired, everyone is suddenly reminded who the second-oldest truly is. When it comes down to the wire, time is money, and when he’s pushed too far, he won’t waste his energy. No jokes. No distractions. He will order his brothers around if they bother him, telling them to be quiet, to stop fighting, to leave him alone, all with too much of a serious tone in his eyes. They all listen. You never mess around with the happy-go-lucky person when they suddenly become gravely stern. He gets snappy, stressed, tense, resembling Lucifer a little too much. It bothers everyone, including the eldest, who would much rather have his typical little brother back despite the trouble he can get himself into. 

So, they pamper him. Something they would never do under normal circumstances, Mammon being Greed after all, but when he gets like this, feeding his Greed is the best way to get him back to normal. They’ll give him small gifts, ones that have more meaning behind them rather than monetary value. All the while, they give him little bits of praise, chipping away at the dour tones to his face, coaxing the loving fun-hearted Mammon to come through. They can’t stand seeing their big brother like this. It makes the House feel colder...quieter. Sometimes it takes a while, but after enough care, Mammon gives in, melting at the attention he’s been given. 

This is the only time he can seem to accept the love from his brothers without turning into a full tsundere. The brothers then take advantage of this, all encouraging him to sleep, before they all can get embarrassed by his genuine affection. But the Greed tempts him to stay awake. He wants more moments like these...Occasionally he’ll drag himself away on his own, but more often than not, Lucifer will be the one to force him to bed, leading him away with a simple hand on his shoulder. Mammon won’t fight him on this. He’ll remember every detail and keep it close to his heart...and desperately deny out-loud having any knowledge of any of that ever happening. 

--

Levi has hardly a healthy sleeping schedule anyway, if you can even call what he has a sleep schedule to begin with. Levi being tired is not out of the ordinary. Gaming, reading manga, on an anime binge, standing in line for something exclusive, there’s not enough hours in the day for him to do what he wants to do. He gets his energy back through energy drinks or taking AFK ‘breaks’ to take a twenty minute nap.  Somehow, against all odds, this usually works for him. However, it never lasts forever, there’s bound to be a wall for him to crash into. And when he crashes, he crashes hard. There’s a point when he crosses over from just being tired to being burnt-out completely, the passionate and excitable personality snuffed out. 

When he gets like this, he’s hardly recognizable. He gets apathetic. Silent. Unmotivated. It worries his brothers greatly. Sure, they can find his endless rants to be a bit draining, and when he drags them into raffles or contests sometimes they find themselves irritated at the inconvenience, but when he can no longer find the energy to care for anything? When he sits at the table and doesn’t bring a game down with him? When someone brings up TSL and he doesn’t even blink? It sends the house through a red alert. 

They all remember his favorite things, partially because in some deeper part of them, they do care, but also because more often than not, Levi ensures they can’t forget about it. So they try to pull it out of him, all of them almost sounding like a copy of Levi in their own right, each of them coming to him constantly to talk about the interests they share. Lucifer will come and ramble on about the interesting facts about the musical scores of certain games or movies. Mammon will come in and play video games with him. Satan will try to discuss plot points of manga stories. Asmo will dress him up in cosplay. Beel will talk about themed cafes he wants to visit, and Belphie will throw --sometimes quite literally-- Levi’s own plushies and character blankets at him. 

Even if he doesn’t realize it in the moment, it’s comforting for Levi to hear his brothers all talk about what he likes. He’s not been ignored, he’s not strange. They listen, and it’s not just for show. This lulls Levi to sleep little by little, mostly because he’s no longer as stressed, but also perhaps, because listening to all his brothers talk for so long exhausts him. He’s used to doing the talking, not receiving it. Either way, it works. He can fall asleep rather instantly, simply nodding off wherever he might be. One of the brothers, usually the older ones, takes him back to his room, comforted when they hear him mutter something about Ruri-chan in his sleep. 

--

Satan does his best to get proper rest. However, sometimes time does get the best of him. When you get into a good book, it can whisk you away, making you forget about everything else...including taking care of himself. He usually makes up for the lack of sleep by resting well the next night, so it’s not normally an issue. However, every so often, Satan will get ahold of a series, and well...that can lead to a few sleepless nights all in a row. Or he might stay up too late watching cat videos...or planning pranks for Lucifer. It’s rare to have Satan push himself so much that he’s just one step away from collapsing, but it does happen. When it does, the control that he works so hard to keep up slips from his fingers. It’s not always the wrath though, it’s any emotion. 

Once he gets to this point, his moods have the tendency to be all over the place, switching at any given time based off of any circumstance. He can be overly giddy at one moment, and then crying the next. People can only hope that the wrong thing doesn’t set him on a wrath rampage. With the hold on his control loosened, who knows the type of damage he can do if he gets angry? He always holds himself so maturely, people often forget he’s still one of the younger brothers. It’s easier to remember once he gets like this.

Walking on metaphorical egg-shells, each brother will attempt to stabilize his mood. It’s quite like giving attention to a cat, staying a little on edge for when the soft purrs might turn into sharp claws. If he’s crying, certain brothers will rush in to comfort him. Asmo and Beel are best for that. If he’s panicked, others specialize in using logic to calm him down. Lucifer and Belphie know how to better appeal to that side of him. If Satan is suddenly finding everything hysterical, Levi and Mammon find themselves capable of pulling him back down to earth, laughing along with him. And if Satan suddenly turns angry? It’s all hands on deck. Everyone has a special folder of cat photos and videos on their D.D.D. for Satan Emergencies. 

Unfortunately, none of them can try to get him to sleep until he does so on his own. Satan always secretly feels the need to prove himself, frustrated if anyone opposes his independence. The stubbornness of a middle child is an odd one indeed. The best way to handle this situation is to simply be there for him, making sure he’s cared for and no damage is done until his emotions burn him through completely. Sometimes they can encourage this process by making him listen to the sound of cats purring or even reading a book out loud for him so he can rest his eyes. Everyone can breathe a collective sigh of relief when Satan finally curls up asleep, sometimes in some odd corner of the House, finally peaceful. 

--

Asmo works hard to take good care of himself, sleep being one of those things. Sleep does plenty of good things for your body! His nightly self-care routine is one of his favorite parts of the day. But...he is one of the party animals of the family...and demons throw wild parties. Every so often, he’ll go days without sleep, going to a different party each night, because he can’t let down his adoring fans! Plus he can’t deny he adores the attention. But parties don’t last forever, and neither does Asmo’s energy or tolerance. ‘Too much of a good thing’ does in fact exist. Social media upkeep, fan-mail, meet-and-greets, research on trends, inventing new trends, constant attention, if he gets too much at once, he can fizzle. 

The days that Asmo is so exhausted he doesn’t want anyone to even look at him, you know it’s bad. It’s not even that he’s feeling self-conscious, it’s just that his lust has turned to disgust. Nothing’s cute anymore, just a pain, an eyesore. Don’t look at him, don’t touch him, don’t talk to him. Everything is overstimulating. Even the lights seem too bright. It bothers him. He gets snappy, crabby, going so far as to avoid his brothers and even the public to try to catch his breath and settle his muddled mind. It’s worrying to say the least, and all the brothers know that it’s in their best interest to get Asmo properly rested. Mostly because they care for him, but they also know that if Asmo quits pleasing the masses, there’s bound to be a riot at their door sooner rather than later. 

Caring for Asmo when he’s like this is a very delicate process. It has to be a proper balance of giving him plenty of space, but also taking care of him at the same time. They usually take turns, coming up to his door one at a time, plenty of space between visits. Typically, they simply knock at his door gently, knowing that he might not check his phone if they try to text him. None of them will say too much, just leaving things by his door to pick up when he feels like it. Sweet snacks, a warm cup of tea, a bouquet of flowers, sometimes little notes of encouragement...because even the most confident of people need that sometimes. No needless flattery or compliments, just little phrases of support. 

After enough personal time, he will get a bit lonely...perhaps very lonely. The next brother to knock will be pleasantly surprised when Asmo opens the door for them. He’ll rest willingly on his own...just not...alone. He wants someone there to comfort him while he sleeps. Even just having another body in the room helps him calm down. He loves himself, but there’s only so much warmth a reflection in the mirror can give. He might toss and turn for a while, a few tears slipping from his eyes, but if one of his brothers tuck him in, he’ll settle easier. With those little notes from his brother surrounding him, he’ll be reminded of how much he’s loved. Not just admired, but loved. He’ll sleep easier after that, the brother that’s with him turning off his lights. 

--

Beel might work out the hardest, but he hardly ever gets overtired. Belphie helps some in that aspect, making sure his twin gets plenty of rest. Besides, they share a room, so Beel makes sure not to stay up too late as to not disturb Belphie out of respect anyway. A full stomach --well, as full as his stomach can get-- and a good night’s sleep is important to physical health as well. If he wants to get stronger, he has to take care of himself, and part of physical training is knowing your limits. To be fair, Beel doesn’t really have any limits anyway...but that’s not to say they don’t exist. Maybe his gluttony kept him up too long, or he felt he needed endless training for an upcoming game. It’s very very rare...so much so that the brothers still don’t fully know what to do when it happens. 

He gets pretty mopey when he’s exhausted. Not even the thought of food makes him happy. Of course, he’s still hungry, so he’ll eat...just less than normal, and with a frown on his face rather than a content one. He’ll resemble Belphie a little too much, dragging his feet, endlessly sighing, tired of everything. Only, he knows he’s bigger and heavier than Belphie too, so he can’t even have the luxury of being carried around. That only makes him sadder. His brothers can’t stand to see him so upset, getting especially stunned if he ever turns away snacks. They get worried that he’s sick or cursed, not immediately coming to the conclusion that he’s simply exhausted. 

It doesn’t help that he won’t tell anyone what’s wrong either. He doesn’t want to make his family fret. He doesn’t want to look weak. Ultimately, Belphie can tell what’s going on. They do have a strange twin connection after all. Naps can wait when Beel’s health is on the line! Belphie has to make sure he helps his brother sleep, and make sure the rest of his brothers help him too! It’s the least he feels Beel deserves, seeing as how he takes care of the others so much. It’s time to give back! Even if eating doesn’t appeal to him like usual, they’ll make him his favorite meal, which of course is a huge banquet. They’ll sit down and eat together, and make sure there’s absolutely no fighting at the dinner-table. They all can control themselves enough for one meal at least. 

After dinner is a movie. Beel always does look happiest when they spend time together. Snacks are included, obviously, and everyone partakes. They’ll all try to sit as close to each other as they all can, making sure Beel is bundled up. They bring out hot chocolate, hoping a warm belly will lull him to sleep. Belphie is always the one to lean against his twin, falling asleep first, but he tries to get Beel to lean on him this time. He might feel like he’s being slightly crushed, but he can take it! With the support from his family, Beel will end up falling asleep, the strongest of the brothers working together to carry him to bed this time. 

--

Belphie is always tired. It comes with the title of Sloth. However because of that, he’s almost always sleeping anyway. It should be almost impossible for him to become overly fatigued. Not even Lucifer could force the youngest to stay awake for too long. At the slightest twinge of drowsiness, Belphie will fall asleep. He wont go out of his way to do anything too arduous. In fact, he prefers not to do anything taxing at all. There would have to be some pretty peculiar circumstances keeping Belphegor from getting rest. Perhaps a magical curse is keeping him from sleeping. Maybe anytime he closes his eyes, he has a nightmare that shocks him awake. It’s possible all of his other brothers aren’t getting enough sleep, so he feels his sin ten-fold. The amount of times this has happened probably still remains under single digits, and it’s probably best if it stays that way. 

He gets desperately clingy when he’s pushed too far. Sleep is all he wants, and he’ll take any measures to get it. He normally tries to act like his brothers are bothers, nothing more, only pulling the younger-sibling card when it benefits him, but when he’s burnt out, all that irritation goes out the window. He’ll run to any of his brothers, even Lucifer, although he’ll still try to keep the eldest as a last resort. He’ll cry, he’ll beg, he just needs some help to get proper rest. Please. Please, be quiet. Please hold him. Please carry him. He’s too tired to walk, too tired to eat, too tired to be angry at anyone. It’s almost painful, being this tired, directly conflicting his sin. 

All the brothers have a particular soft spot for him anyway, but they’ll especially do anything he asks when he’s like this. It doesn’t happen too often after all, and they all care for their baby brother. Little sibling perks, am I right? Since this is an unusual circumstance, they’ll all try to figure out the problem. A curse? Lucifer and Satan will figure out how to break it in record time, working together without complaints...mostly. Too loud? Suddenly the house will be deathly quiet. Not even Asmo and Mammon make too much noise. Plagued by restless nightmares? Well, they’ll all try to work together on that, making him feel comfortable, trying to ease his stressed mind. 

He’ll want for nothing. And despite his conflicted feelings on being babied, it’s...relaxing in a way at least. He is a bit upset about worrying Beel so much. His twin can hardly calm down when Belphie gets like this, meaning the House usually has two younger siblings to worry about at the same time. It’s perhaps to be expected though, seeing as how close they are. Beel wont rest until he’s sure Belphie does...so the only work Belphie has to focus on is trying to relax...even if that means relying on Lucifer too. He’ll never say it, but being in the eldest brother’s arms reminds him of Celestial Realm days...and maybe that bit of reassurance is all he needs sometimes...You better believe he’ll make up for it later with plenty of pranks in Lucifer’s direction when he wakes up. But...for now...he’ll let everyone take care of him. That way he can sleep gently for hours. 

--

Diavolo is always seemingly filled with energy. Sure, he works hard, but he has Barbatos and Lucifer looking after him constantly. It wouldn’t do to have the Prince of the Devildom dragging his feet. Sure, he might get away with one or two sleepless nights, but you can be sure he’ll be taken care of. He doesn’t always have the luxury of choice. That being said, he is rather clever, and occasionally he does find ways to get things done without his butler knowing about it. And if he gets extremely desperate...well...he has been known to have his own special grip on time. Perhaps he uses this tactic every once and a while to catch up on work. He doesn’t want to be stuck behind a desk forever. He wants to do fun things like the others do. If he pushes himself to accomplish everything at once, it’s possible it might even be a bit too much for the future ruler of the Devildom. 

At least when he gets too tired, it’s nothing too detrimental. He simply becomes...more mischievous. He is a tried-and-true demon after all. Having to be in control all the time...it’s no fun at all. The more exhausted he becomes, the more sick of being proper he gets. He wants to be a bit more carefree, he delights in hearing about what happens at the House of Lamentation all the time...So, he may cause...some problems. Nothing too serious, obviously, he’s not lost full control of himself. Things that are practically pranks, mostly harmless...mostly...And none of the student council nor the exchange students are completely safe. 

It takes everyone a while to understand who’s responsible for making Barbatos’ tea-time snacks unbearably sour, as well as making every room in the House and Hall upside down, and even mildly cursing everyone to speak backwards for a few hours. Lucifer and Barbatos are the first ones to figure it out, coming to the conclusion that their precious Prince must be extremely stressed or exhausted, or even a combination of the two. They figure the best way to calm him down is to give him what he wants. While all of them wish for no more pranks, they agree to spend some time with him, do something fun, play some games even. 

That’s all he really wants, is to feel more normal, not to be stuck doing endless paperwork and leading meetings. The last of his energy is spent playing games with the others, his pride saved as Barbatos and Lucifer lead him away before he collapses. The two demons wish they could’ve helped him before it got to this point, but everyone gets overtired sometimes. Not even royalty is exempt. It’s comforting to Diavolo knowing that this is something he can share with the others, as silly as bonding over being exhausted is. His little day of fun is at an end, drifting off to sleep comfortably, getting a royal amount of rest. 

--

Barbatos doesn’t sleep much. Not that he really needs to anyway. He’s one of those demons that can thrive on just a handful of hours of rest. After all, he’s a very busy demon, with too much to do, a ruler to care for. If he ever gets tired, he never shows it. No one hardly even sees him with his eyes closed. Besides, he takes care of himself very well. He can’t afford to get sick or burnt-out, what sort of butler would he be if he couldn’t do his job properly? Although, some things are bound to happen, and when you’re working that hard for centuries on end, most of the time refusing to take a break? Even someone as powerful as Barbatos is not completely immune to exhaustion. 

He does his best to hide his drowsiness, continuing work as normal, simply making little mistakes he would normally never make. To any other stranger, no one would have any clue anything was wrong. To those who know him, however, the littlest mistakes are telling. Awake half-an-hour after his usual wake-up time? Picking the wrong kind of tea in the morning? A single wrinkle on the back of one of his pant legs? Something must be very wrong indeed. He feels shame for even the smallest of these blunders. It’s not right for a royal butler to make such grievous errors. No one thinks he’s done wrong at all...However, Lucifer and Diavolo push for him to get some rest. He can’t exactly deny the Prince’s requests...and it would be better for him to simply step away and recuperate rather than continue to humiliate himself further. 

It’s not often he needs to focus on himself like this. He’ll lie down for about an hour, only to get up again, confused as to why he’s being ushered back to his room. Surely an hour is plenty of time? Or perhaps his mind is more rattled than he thought he was. At times, he borders on sleep-walking, getting up, unaware of what he’s doing, going around the hallways to dust the ornate frames of the castle’s many paintings or preparing to make Diavolo some snacks. Not many demons can make pastries while half-asleep, but Barbatos sure can. It gets to the point where he almost needs a guard at the door...to ensure he gets a full days rest. 

All the brothers are brought over from the House of Lamentation to help fulfill butler duties. It takes a lot of work to maintain a castle...The members of Purgatory Hall might be called to help as well. That way Barbatos can rest easy, knowing everything is taken care of. He does worry more than anyone realizes...which might be part of the reason why he’s been so exhausted as of late. Unchecked stress can do just as much harm as lack of sleep. He does feel a bit embarrassed being fretted over, but he can’t help but smile when Diavolo brings him sweets and tea in bed. It’s nearly perfect, and he can’t help but feel pride at the Young Lord’s attention to detail. He’ll sleep through most of the day, getting up bright and early the next morning, ready for another good few decades --if not centuries-- of hard work. 

--

Simeon goes through cycles of remaining well-rested and pushing himself too hard. He needs to remain a good influence on Luke, and he can’t do that if he doesn’t get proper sleep. However, as a writer and author, sometimes creativity strikes at the weirdest times. There’s plenty of nights where he’ll get that sudden strike of ideas, needing to get up to jot it down. Sometimes little snippets turn into full blown chapters. Besides, taking orders from Michael, keeping an eye on everyone at Purgatory Hall, caring for Luke, and keeping up his appearance as Christopher Peugeot...it can be a lot for one angel. It’s not very uncommon for Simeon to be so selfless he neglects his own needs, but the more everyone can help him avoid it, the better. 

When he gets too tired, suddenly the pleasant standard he holds himself too falls away. He’ll try to still remain polite, but it’s much harder. His smile is a deep frown. Any little inconvenience irritates him to a rather irrational amount. Ran into a doorframe? Dropped a pen? Hears someone speaking just the slightest bit too loud? He almost loses it, wrath taking over. He does try not to unleash his frustration towards anyone who doesn’t deserve it. He knows this much about himself to send Luke away, at least, asking that Solomon keep an eye on the little angel as he tries to sort himself out. Some cursing might be heard throughout the dorm after all. 

Sometimes he can get himself to rest just fine, getting just a calming cup of tea and some bedrest. Other times, he’ll need some assistance. He’s used to being the one to help, not needing the help, so he’s not always sure how to be selfish. Help is usually done more behind the scenes, trying not to let Simeon know who fully was involved in helping him out. Classes for Simeon are already canceled today? Those book-signing plans have already been perfectly rescheduled? Someone helped Luke with his homework? Dinner is already prepared--and don’t worry, not by Solomon. 

Seems everyone had a little hand in making sure Simeon was looked after. Despite being overly irritated, it warms his heart knowing that demons still have grace and compassion. He does feel a little embarrassed knowing that he let himself get this way, needing Solomon or Luke to be the ones to let everyone know how Simeon was faring. He appreciates having such caring roommates, though. He can’t march around being angry forever. He’s representing the Celestial Realm after all...and he can’t quite spurn the kind acts the others have taken to make sure he rests. So, he’ll put away the pen and paper, letting the responsibilities fall off his shoulders for a while as he sleeps deeply. 

--

Solomon tends to overdo it quite...frequently. He’s been down in the Devildom so long, dealing with demons so long, being alive so long...he can forget he’s still only human. It’s a harsh reality that makes itself known at least...once every few months. He’s quite terrible at making sure he sleeps properly. He’s always doing something after all, trying to expand his already vast collection of spells and knowledge. He’s not called Solomon the Wise for nothing after all. Although, you’d think for someone so ‘wise’, he’d have the wisdom to sleep properly in a bed, not trying to use spells or potions or mild curses to force himself to stay awake. Simeon does do his best to keep an eye on the human, but sometimes there’s only so much he can do to such a stubborn sorcerer. 

Although, he has a pretty interesting way of showing when he’s so sleep deprived, it’s getting dangerous. He gets pretty weepy, breaking down rather frequently. Being alive for so long is pretty taxing for the human mind...and being awake for so long has the tendency to make even the mysterious Solomon a bit of a mess. He can miss classes, skip meals, sit in a seat and stare out the window for hours. He does his best to hide it around the others, but everyone, especially the angels, can tell he’s gloomier than usual. It’s rather off-putting seeing someone often so entertained be so down. 

The other residents of Purgatory Hall are usually the ones to care for him, but every so often, some of the other demons might get involved. Only to...keep anything unfortunate from happening, surely. Asmo of course is the first to leap to the rescue! They are bound from a pact after all, he has to do his part. Barbatos usually steps in to make sure all is well too. It is within his duties to see that all the exchange students are in good health...and well, he too has duties as a pact-mate. They have to make sure Solomon’s projects and experiments are put aside for now, trying to find other things to distract him, to cheer him up, things that aren’t as taxing. Asmo will pamper him while Barbatos ensures he eats well, all the while Simeon and Luke comfort him, regaling him with fascinating stories of the Celestial Realm. 

It might take a while to get through to him, to bring him back to the present, trying to encourage him to put aside his vast past. The future still has plenty of secrets to hold. He has things to look forward to, mysteries to discover and things to learn. But he can’t do any of those if he’s so tired his hands are shaking. It’s...odd for him to be taken care of like this, he has only faint memories of his childhood, dreams that were lifetimes ago. However, this brings him some nostalgia, even if he can’t recall any details. He might finally make a joke about only sleeping if one of the demon brothers makes a pact with him. Of course, they all refuse, which was to be expected. But he can sleep peacefully at last, trying to hold onto every moment of these new memories while they’re still fresh in his mind. 

--

Luke used to hardly ever stay up too late. This would have to be more of a recent development. Like Simeon, Angels can’t be too selfish, making sure to have all things in moderation, which means knowing when to rest, stepping away from the world. Well, that’s what they’re told anyway. Plus, Luke is still young, so he can’t stay up too late anyway, whether because he gets tired on his own, or one of his many guardians puts him to bed. Every so often though, he’ll find a spark of rebellion. He knows as an adult you get to stay up late, he knows about all-nighters. And perhaps something in his adolescent mind began to associate late nights with being grown. He’ll tell the others he’s going to bed, only to force himself to stay awake, feeling no longer like a child as he does whatever he wants up till the early hours of the morning. Simeon and Solomon are typically none the wiser. Who would’ve thought the little angel would end up depriving himself of sleep? 

Everyone is able to tell the next day, however. It’s nearly painfully obvious when Luke sleeps in, only to whine when he’s woken up to get ready for classes. He almost falls asleep at the table for breakfast, nearly unable to keep his eyes open. Everyone is...torn on how to handle this. Half of them suggest keeping Luke home, making sure he gets sleep. The other half encourage Luke to attend classes anyway. If he wants to make those decisions, he has to deal with the consequences. It’s hard to enforce such rules when Luke rubs his eyes, trying to crawl into Simeon’s arms to fall asleep. The little angel practically cries, all that talk about being grown-up no longer as important as he felt it was. Being so tired is, well, exhausting. 

In the end, he misses classes, staying home. It would be rather dangerous for Luke to attend RAD in this state. Those who share classes with Luke will bring home copies of notes for him. Despite everyone who finds immense joy in teasing the chihuahua, they all come together to help where they can. Luke is very lucky to have so many people to look after him. Luke typically hates being coddled, hates being treated like a child, but at the end of the day, he is one, and being taken care of puts him at ease. 

He’ll only get a mini lecture from Simeon, reminding Luke about the importance of sleep. If the little angel is unlucky, Lucifer will catch wind of the deed, coming to give Luke an even bigger lecture. But no one can talk to Luke for too long. He keeps falling asleep throughout the day, finding someone to come up to to hold him as he takes little naps. The others try not to let him sleep too long, because then he won’t be able to sleep again during the night...but it’s very hard to disturb him when he sleeps so soundly. It feels like a sin to stir such a precious angel. At least Luke will learn his lesson. Why do some adults deprive themselves of sleep? It doesn’t feel like a grown-up thing to do at all, it just feels pretty painful and pointless. Now everyone has to watch themselves...Luke will make sure everyone sleeps properly now. 

[roseapov]

Freedom of choice

Venti/Barbatos x GN!Reader

The warning: Mentions of obsession, imprisioning in a sleep, manipulation, use of divine powers

Spoilers to Mondstadt Main Story

Povtober 2023, Day 8 [Masterlist]

Barbatos first met you, when Dvalin was corrupted by the Abyss. He was searching for his dragon friend to help him, when he saw another person, you. You were tending to dragons wounds and he seemed totally calm around you, unlike for the others where he acted hostile.

It immediately picked his interest, as he chose to hide and observe you for a little longer. He felt an invisible force drawing him to you, yet he decided to ignore it, to watch you longer whilst ignoring the painful sting in his heart.

When you entered the city for the first time, he planned your meeting to be as charming as possible, to lure you in and tell him all your secrets. The white pigeons surrounded him whilst he played his lyre, under a big statue of the Anemo Archon - Barbatos.

He instantly caught your eye, and he seemed to brighten even more for his crowd. After his performance he didn't wait for any applause like usual, but instead went straight to you.

You were so.. you, he never met someone like you before, so please, let him write a poem for you.

He quickly got charmed by you, firstly as a Barbatos and secondly as Venti.

Yet, he never told you about his feelings, no no, he wouldn't dare to. What if you would feel pressured to answer him and say yes, but don't even mean it? He can't have that, as a God of Freedom it's against his principles. That's why he found another solution.

As fast as he barged into your life, then as fast he made himself comfortable and at home, right by your side. You also couldn't help but start to feel comfortable around that goofy bard, which led you to trust him with all your heart, as he became your safe space.

But once you fell asleep on his lap, it was over. He wouldn't pressure you into doing anything, and yet he still created an alternative reality for you. A cage with the illusion of freedom, BUT it still had freedom, so everything was fine for him.

A reality, where you could do whatever you want, without the risk of being in danger. Despite the other people acting weird to you, you never really questioned it as Venti was always by your side, travelling the world with you, averting your attention from everyone else.

You never got bothered by your fuzzy memories, not when you have a companion who can make you feel better in an instant.

He never told you, yet he used his divine powers to stop your time, and took your consciousness into a place that never met the threats of the time.

When you finally fell in love with him, and was willing to stay with him forever only then he ended the sleep, but in a way that you never knew you were in a sleep at all.

He manipulated you and the situation into making you believe that yesterday you confessed to him in the Stormterror's lair, and he graciously accepted it. You both were on your way home, and this is where playing with this fake reality ended.

When you woke up in your bed in the next morning, you were in a real world again, but it's not like you knew about it anyway.

Venti looked just the same as 'yesterday', but why did everyone else look much older? Did you missed something? Why does the Mondstadt look different? You didn't know, but thinking about it was giving you deadly migraines.

Your new lover was now happily comforting and massaging you, knowing that you chose him from everyone else with your own freedom of choice.

He's so glad you decided to offer him all your freedom, to him, to your God. Oh you didn't? Not yet then.

What was he mumbling about? Oh, don't mind it, it wasn't important anyway.

First fic with Genshin Impact characters in Povtober 2023 AND in total. That's a great feat Venti💚 It was really hard to find his pic that would show his personality as both Venti and Barbatos, but I think I managed it well💚 If this work have any grammar mistakes, I'm going to fix them this weekend, See you soon 🔜

~roseapov