#which is much more shitty-feeling than when it's like a chore or something | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nightprompts · 9 months

Text

&. 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 (𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧) 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

( dialogue prompts taken from episodes 5 & 6 ( "eat at baratie!" & "the chef and the chore boy" ) of the netflix live action one piece series. feel free to edit and change as you seem fit. )

❛ how about we sail away as fast as we can? ❜

❛ about the battle, you wanna talk about it? ❜

❛ there's something on the breeze. smells like butter. soy sauce. and meat. ❜

❛ think he has brain damage? ❜

❛ i smell food, which means that there's someone somewhere cooking. ❜

❛ what's a... baratie? ❜

❛ let's eat! ❜

❛ you'll have to excuse them. they're idiots. ❜

❛ wanna take this outside? ❜

❛ are you asking me to dance? 'cause i kind of had my eye on that blonde at table eight. ❜

❛ i call it a true bluefin sauté. it's elephant tuna, seared asparagus, in a sweet soy reduction. ❜

❛ if i gotta sling one more prime rib medium-well, i am going to drop dead of boredom, you old shitbag! ❜

❛ this ain't gonna be a fight. i'm just going to kill him. ❜

❛ hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food. ❜

❛ one of our signature cocktails to help you choke down your meal? ❜

❛ apologies, madam, i didn't see you there. ❜

❛ something wrong with your eye? ❜

❛ just blinded by your beauty. ❜

❛ nami's got a boyfriend. ❜

❛ did i catch you in the middle of something? ❜

❛ just killing some time. ❜

❛ who's the quarry? ❜

❛ doesn't sound like much of a challenge. ❜

❛ why are you after me? ❜

❛ you woke me from my nap. ❜

❛ i can't eat another bite. but it's so good. ❜

❛ who the hell is monkey d. luffy? ❜

❛ i don't even think there's liquor in this. it tastes just like candy. ❜

❛ who's ready for another drink? my treat. ❜

❛ i don't really do regret. no point in looking back. ❜

❛ sometimes, when i try to look ahead, all i see is back. ❜

❛ you know, you're a really good cook. ❜

❛ if a man is hungry, i feed him. ❜

❛ what are you carrying around that's so heavy? ❜

❛ i bet i know more about you than you do about me. ❜

❛ i guess something about you, you drink. you guess something about me, i drink.❜

❛ i have business with your captain. if you know what's good for you, you'll hand him over. ❜

❛ i've been following your career since i was a child. it's an honor to finally meet you, sir. which is why it pains me to inform you that tomorrow... you're going to die. ❜

❛ accept my challenge. you'll see how serious i am. ❜

❛ you want me to say you're the best? you're the best. okay? ❜

❛ you're the best i've ever seen, but you are not better than him. ❜

❛ why do you give a shit? ❜

❛ because you're my friend, you idiot. ❜

❛ you said it yourself. you don't have any friends. ❜

❛ what is that? i'm here for a sword fight. ❜

❛ i don't hunt rabbits with a cannon. ❜

❛ you're brave. i'll give you that. ❜

❛ wounds on the back are a swordsman's greatest shame. ❜

❛ this world could use a few more wild cards. ❜

❛ it's too soon for you to die. grow strong and come find me. i'll be waiting. ❜

❛ you could never fail me. ❜

❛ look, i'm not gonna lie to you. he's lost a lot of blood. it might be too late for him. but it might not be. ❜

❛ he's got one foot in each world right now, caught between life and death. you have to find a way to keep him tethered to our world. ❜

❛ nice of you to announce yourself. ❜

❛ i don't take orders. not even from the likes of you. ❜

❛ what's the matter? don't like fish? ❜

❛ if you don't want the fish, i got two-inch t-bones in the kitchen. or maybe you're in the mood for saffron risotto? ❜

❛ i can make anything. just tell me what you want. ❜

❛ being a captain, it's the toughest job in the world, okay? ❜

❛ how'd you two meet? were you on his crew or something? ❜

❛ oregano's for savages! ❜

❛ you've got a sharp tongue on you, boy. how about i cut it out and fry it up with some pig fat? ❜

❛ do what you want, but i'm not gonna die here. ❜

❛ they're all dead, except for us. ❜

❛ you ate it? you ate your own leg? ❜

❛ you don't even know me. why would you do that for a stranger? ❜

❛ so i'm gonna need you to live on. and i'm gonna need you to fulfill that dream... for both of us. ❜

❛ have any idea what that's like? having someone lose a limb to save your life? ❜

❛ sometimes, when you are in charge, you have to make the tough decisions. ❜

❛ i'd do anything to save him. anything. except stand in the way of his dream. ❜

❛ isn't there something that you want? something more than anything else in this world? ❜

❛ not everyone gets to follow their dreams. ❜

❛ did you not hear what i just said? they are hunting you. we need to run. ❜

❛ i can't let innocent people get hurt because of me. ❜

❛ i hear you're looking for me. ❜

❛ so this is the pirate i've heard so much about? ❜

❛ do you know who i am, boy? ❜

❛ how'd you even know how to find me? ❜

❛ if you bow down to me, i might even let you serve in my kingdom. ❜

❛ i don't bow down to any man. ❜

❛ i told you in the bar i didn't have any friends, but the truth is, i couldn't let myself have them... because i always end up hurting the people closest to me. ❜

❛ why waste your time killing a devil fruit eater? let the sea do it for you. ❜

❛ what is your problem? ❜

❛ me? i'm fine. you're the one with the problem. ❜

❛ you're not gonna be anything, not if you stay here. ❜

❛ it's not like i can just leave. ❜

❛ don't you get it? it's one thing to have a dream. it's another to go after it. ❜

❛ you want my permission? you got it. ❜

❛ i didn't know what to say before, but i know what to say now, and it's so simple. i need you. ❜

❛ you gonna keep talking, or let me get some sleep? ❜

❛ i vow to stand by your side from now until the end. ❜

❛ you're my captain, and i'm your first mate. ❜

❛ heard you guys need a cook. ❜

❛ why are we bringing the waiter? ❜

❛ you keep your feet dry. ❜

❛ you know, all these years, living under your shitty roof, cooking at your shitty restaurant... i owe you my life! ❜

❛ thank you for putting up with my shit all these years, old man. ❜

❛ i'll never forget you! ❜

#one piece #opla #sentence starters #roleplay memes #roleplay starters #rp memes #inbox memes #rp starters #dialogue prompts #ask memes #tv

275 notes · View notes

theemporium · 1 year

Note

Could I possibly request a number 46 smutty fic with Charles leclerc 👉👈 loved your Daniel fic!!!

thank you, darling!🖤this was meant to be a blurb and became 1.3k but enjoy!!

46. "leave the heels on"

It was funny how quickly you could go from hating a person to fucking them.

Or maybe when it came to Charles Leclerc, it was really fucking realistic.

Securing a position as a team member in the infamous Scuderia Ferrari quickly out of university wasn’t something you expected to happen, and yet it was just how your life seemed to go. A handful of interviews and silent prayer of thanks for your supervisor pushing you to take up Italian classes to improve your resume, you found yourself working with one of the biggest and most historical teams in motorsport history.

And eighteen months after joining the team, you finally got upgraded to join the team as they travelled from city to city with each and every race.

That was how you came to learn that you and Ferrari’s golden boy did not get along.

At all.

The team found it endearing: the quarrels and arguments, the scoffs and eye rolling, the fact neither of you could stand to be alone with each other for longer than two minutes but always found your way next to each other.

You found it to be the biggest pain in your ass.

But being a part of the Scuderia Ferrari team meant more than late meetings and travelling the world. It also meant fancy events and over-the-top galas you were constantly having to show your face at.

Deep down, you hated them. The dressing up in pretty dresses and glam makeup was fun the first few times, but now it just felt like a chore—all for you to stand around the bar abusing the no-limit drinks and get through a handful of awkward conversations when most people at these events just wanted to talk to the drivers themselves.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t look so sad.”

The accent was thick and very Italian, the smile was something quite like charm and mischief and you were pretty sure he was just a guest. But hey, the gorgeous man in the three piece suit seemed like a far better way to kill your time than sitting at the bar alone.

“What are you gonna do about it, handsome?”

But what you didn’t seem to notice was the piercing eyes of Ferrari’s number one trophy glaring at you from across the room.

Now, Charles wasn’t stupid.

Did you irritate him beyond measure? Yes.

Did you make him want to rip his own hair out? Also yes.

But were you also one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen in his life? Unfortunately, yes.

Maybe that was why it pissed him off so much, why you pissed him off so much, because half the time he wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell you to fuck off or to just fuck you. He was left in some weird internal battle that drove him crazy, and usually you were the person on the receiving end of his shitty moods and snide remarks.

And whilst the driver knew you were in no way, shape or form his, it didn’t stop the burning bitter feeling bubbling in his stomach. It didn’t stop him from downing the rest of the overpaid champagne in his flute and slamming the glass down with little care. And it did nothing to stop him from striding across the room towards you and the mystery man who was all over you, giving you little chance to say anything before he was tugging at your hand and pulling you towards the valet.

Hissed sneers and bitter words were passed between you, which quickly became hard, sloppy kisses and wandering hands underneath clothing. In some daze of lust, want and anger, you had made it to an apartment—undoubtedly his apartment—and despite your racing heart and the voice in your head screaming this was a bad idea, you didn’t want to stop.

“Leave them,” his voice was rough and a little husky, matching the darkened look in his eyes as he watched you from the end of the bed. Your dress was pooled at his feet, your hair was sprawled out around you from where you laid on his bed and your hand fell back to your side when he spoke.

“Leave what?” you asked because you were a little shit, because you wanted to hear him say it. Your body hummed and sang to reach out, to touch him and undo the buttons and see the skin you caught glimpses of during race weekends. But your ego was winning out.

“Leave the heels on, cherie,” he muttered as he shrugged off his jacket, tugging at the stupid bowtie he was forced to wear and shedding off his shirt as effortlessly as a drunk man trying to restrain himself could.

“This some weird kink of yours, Leclerc?” you commented teasingly, watching with your painted lips tucked between your teeth as his shirt fell to the floor, his belt following and the unbuttoned trousers he had yet to take off tempting you.

“Acting like you don’t like it?” he retorted, grinning a little at the way you fell silent as his fingers glided over your heels, along your calves and up your thighs until you were spread for him.

“Are you going to do anything or just stare?” you muttered, your voice a little breathier than you would have liked. “I had a willing partner before you dragged me off, Leclerc, it would be a shame for this night to be a disappointing performance from you.”

His eyes gleamed with the challenge. “Pick a number.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“Pick a number,” he repeated, hooded eyes falling to the apex of your thighs as his hand reached out towards you, his thumb pressing against your clothed clit.

Your breath shuddered. “Four.”

“Four,” he hummed with a low chuckle, one that felt mocking and twisted but still made the coil in your lower stomach tighten. “Such a low number, not very ambitious.”

Four.

Fucking four.

As it came to be, that would be the number that haunted you for the rest of the night in the best way possible. Whatever snarky remarks or digs you took at Charles, they would quickly fall flat when the boy had you shaking and moaning and begging, when he had you so fucked out that you couldn’t even bring yourself to care about stupid rivalries or the teasing comments. You just wanted him.

“Please, please, please,” your cries muffled against the pillows, your hands clutching the sheets of the bed and your body jerking with every thrust of hips. “I-I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” Charles hissed between clenched teeth, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips so hard that you knew there would be bruises in the morning but you didn’t care. Not when his cock was hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even realised made you feel this good. “Can’t give me one more, baby? You’ve already been so greedy, already came five times.”

You choked out a sob, one hand reaching back for him. “Charles–”

“Shhh,” he cooed mockingly as he reached towards you, your body pressed against his chest and his hands on your hips guiding you back onto his cock. “You sound much less annoying when you’re moaning my name, cherie.”

“Fuck,” you hissed, eyes clenched shut as your head lulled back to rest on his shoulder as his fingers brushed against your swollen clit. “Charles, I can’t anymore, I-I can’t—”

“One more for me, baby, one more,” his lustful words slurring together as you clenched around him, a sound deep and guttural escaping his mouth as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. “Shit, so good for me.”

Maybe fucking someone you hated was easier than either of you thought.

And maybe it was going to become a more recurring incident than either of you ever considered.

#charles leclerc #formula one #f1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc fic #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one one shot #formula one fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 one shot #f1 fic

629 notes · View notes

alicerosejensen · 1 year

Text

Wicked games

summary: You feel that your feelings for Leon have already cooled down and you see only one way out of this situation - to break up with him.

Warning: nothing special. To be honest, this is a weakly restraining agnst and parting with a partner on the part of the reader.

Written to the song “ Wicked Games” by Parra For Cuva (feat. Anna Naklab)

"Sorry ladies but i'm one-woman man"

You thought that it was clearly not addressed to you. Be that as it may, and whatever relationship you had with Leon, for him it was clearly a temporary hobby. Just an attempt to brighten up time while waiting for the elusive woman in red.

On the one hand, it looks like jealousy, but on the other hand... you didn't feel anything.

There was no anger, resentment or disappointment. There was not an iota of jealousy. You thought this was a temporary phenomenon, because it happens when ardent feelings begin to dull. But more and more often you realized that you had burned out like a match, which quickly lit up with boundless (as you thought then) love and also quickly began to go out.

You became uncomfortable with his company and his attentions, which made you start avoiding your boyfriend constantly looking for different excuses. Help bestie? Urgent household chores? Did the roommate ask you to move the furniture? Did the hamster die? this is taking into account the fact that you have never had a hamster. Some of the excuses were so stupid that Leon raised his eyebrows to the top, sincerely not believing that the reason given was really serious enough not to go to an expensive restaurant with him.

And then you lied to him that you had a serious cold, so you'll stay with your parents for now. Leon just sighed heavily into the phone and muttered something like "okay." In fact, it was good. You breathed a sigh of relief as you threw the mobile phone on the bed, knowing full well that you were doing the most shitty thing with it. But you absolutely didn't want to bicker with him and start trying to dissuade him from following you (because if that had happened, Leon would have realized that there is no illness). The worst part is that you didn't feel any guilt about yourself. The feeling of wrongness - yes, it was present, but in order to muffle it, you repeatedly told yourself "He is also too often not around." Of course, it's all because of his work and Leon immediately warned that he was away from home for a long time, but then, inspired by love and those very hormones of happiness, it seemed to you that it was nothing.

Everything was so beautiful… The world seemed completely different. You loved that feeling of being in love, but now you have to wonder.

Did you love Leon?

You had amazing sex and aftercare. Leon was never rude (if only a little to maintain passion), and the rest of the time gentle and caring. He always kissed you deeply and sensually, making butterflies flutter in your stomach… and you were always there for him when he needed it so much.

Leon was ready to give his life for such love. For you. After all, he often just kissed you when you were cooking or sleeping, on the neck, forehead, cheeks… He likes your cheeks so much. Hugs were an integral part of this relationship, and for Leon they were of great value. Much more than sex.

He never forgot about you. Even in his sleep, he clung to you, as if he was afraid that you were about to disappear if he let you go. And for the first year and a half of the relationship, everything was fine with you. Dates, gifts, all this wonderful love... But love seems to really live for three years. In your case, just one and a half and another six months of useless attempts to convince yourself that you still love him.

Actually, part of you hoped that after meeting Ada Wong Leon again, he would remember about his feelings for this woman and you could calmly leave him, saying to yourself, "He hasn't loved me for a long time, or maybe he didn't love me at all." But fate plays evil games, especially with you. Leon confessed his devotion to you when you allegedly doubted the sincerity of his feelings.

“It's all right, my sweet girl... so good. Don't doubt me. I'm only with you and you're only mine...”

Leon whispered these sweet words to you while making love to you, not wild unrestrained sex. He kissed and stroked sensitive places, watching the reaction on your face, trying to convince you that no one else is interested in him. You and only you. Maybe he always came to you?

What used to make you bloom like a May rose now causes a burning sensation in your eyes and a heavy lump in your throat. Leon moved carefully covering every inch of your body with kisses, tasting you, and all you could think was what a bitch you are.

You lie to him in order not to meet him when he is ready to throw himself into the fire for you; you come up with various excuses so that he does not bother you, while he uses every free minute to be with you. And when you finally sob loudly from the overwhelming sense of guilt for your behavior, for the guilt that you no longer love him... it makes him stop and start calming you down. All Leon was thinking about was that he hurt you with a careless move or scared you because of the difference in your size. He pulled you to him, sitting you on his lap, imprinting random kisses on your face and shoulders, constantly apologizing to you.

But you should apologize. How can you deceive him?! But at the same time, if you tell him that the feelings have passed, won't it break his heart? Did Leon deserve it?

He took you to the bathroom, taking a shower with you, constantly asking if anything hurts you, hell, he even offered to go to the hospital if he suddenly hurt you with his passion, Leon didn't deserve the shit that you could pour on him. So you just lied...

Again.

Like you're such a stupid girl who was worried about his relationship with Ada. Pretend to be a fool... you're starting to do well. Leon scooped up your body in an harmful, putting you to sleep in a shared bed, repeating only one thing: he loves only you.

That's what you were starting to hate. And yourself and the part of him that loves you. In the end, he is called back to the devil in the middle of nowhere, and he reluctantly says goodbye to you, promising that he will solve this issue as soon as possible in order to return to you again. And you didn't want to admit it, but you felt it... easement. When the plane on which Leon left the country took off, it was as if your lungs were able to breathe deeply again.

Then the time of entertainment begins. No, you don't cheat on him with others, but if earlier it seemed wrong to you to have fun when your boyfriend is risking his life, now it is taken for granted. And yet is it right? Leon left you a little gift so that you wouldn't miss him too much, and tears flowed down your cheeks again clutching an expensive gold bracelet. The feeling was that as soon as you start accumulating strength for parting, something always knocks you down, not allowing you to do it.

The whole situation is tearing you to pieces, leaving skin and bones. Maybe if there was a replacement for Leon, the situation would not be so difficult? Maybe it would be easier for you to break up with him? But the trouble is that your heart does not feel any love feelings for anyone. Therefore, you are again engaged in self-deception, constantly telling yourself that feelings have just cooled down a little, but love has not passed. Just need to catch up. In fact, you still love Leon, this is an ordinary difficult period in a relationship.

You just have to look at joint photos more often, wear his gifts more often and not give up spending time together when he returns from missions.

But to hell with it.

Deceive yourself as much as you want, and the fucking butterflies in your stomach have all died out for a long time, leaving nothing. These fucking hormones of happiness no longer give you an intoxicating mood when you are ready to dump mountains for the sake of your beloved. And there is no attraction to Leon anymore: neither physical nor amorous.

In fact, there is nothing else but irritation.

You tried. Honestly tried to pull out of myself this affection for him again, but even Leon noticed these inept attempts to show his love. And more and more often he looked down, licking his lips, as if he had understood everything for a long time, but he was waiting Suddenly everything will still get better, because he loves you? You are like sun that warms him after meeting B.O.W. A person with whom he can lean his soul against his soul. Therefore, he does not abandon these useless attempts to regain what he has lost, because it cannot be that you made him feel love by allowing him to dream about himself, and then show heartlessness by pushing him away.

The world is breaking his heart again.

As if before that you carefully glued together the broken pieces of his heart, kissing every crack and scar on his soul. Gently stroked his head when he woke up from nightmares and you were better than any alcohol, allowing him to forget these horrors at least for a while. As an anesthetic with a pleasant aftereffect. Your love and care brought back to life that rookie cop full of dreams and hopes.

With you, he had the normal life of an ordinary civilian. Even for a short time. Like a warm cocoon that he liked to wrap himself in.

Actually, he liked the idea that he could even start a family with you. Buy a house somewhere in the suburbs, quietly marry you and make a baby Kennedy, and then live together until old age (if he lives to see her). Maybe the DSO could let him go from his position as an agent?

He could train newcomers, give them advice so that they could live a little longer, and return home to his family in the evening. Have dinner with homemade food, play with your child every now and then holding your eyes on family photos, and in the summer go on vacation from which no one else will pull him out. Leon even allowed himself to dream how you and his child are walking along the beach in a short summer dress and a cute hat, running merrily on the warm sand. And your baby is laughing loudly in his arms.

It was too perfect a life.

The life he had always dreamed of. The Life he was deprived of. The kind of life he wanted to risk building.

A dream that has remained a dream.

Leon knows that he is also partly to blame for this. You won't be nice by force, and everything he could do, he did. It's just that this fucking job takes away from her everything he values and loves. Loses a lot of good people, doesn't have time to save them and watches you wring your fingers in an attempt to hide your nervousness. Maybe if he could give it all up, not be away from you so much, then everything would be fine...

“Forgive me” - is all you can say because you're afraid to even look at him. Leon puts his glass on the counter, shaking its contents. As a medicine with which he himself will heal his wounds.

You know he doesn't deserve all this. No one should break his heart anymore, and you were sure that you would stay with him until the end, but something in the world ordered otherwise.

It would also be wrong to deceive him. Of the two evils, you have chosen the least, now watching the consequences of your choice. His dark blue eyes were full of sadness because of another breakup, and no one could tell what kind of hell was going on inside him right now. It's quiet outside. Inside, everything is torn apart.

It was a very wicked game, on your part, although he understands that your fault is not here. He never dreamed of falling in love with a girl like you. And yet it hurts. Leon walks around the table you're sitting at and just sits down next to you. He doesn't persuade to stay, he doesn't shout out words of love, he just squeezes out a smile.

"You should have loved me" but instead, he utters completely different words, allowing you to leave without any quarrel. It's like letting go of your palm for the last time from his hand.

“I understand.” - He looks at the bracelet that he gave you, which you are now returning to him, and Leon takes the jewelry from cold fingers to fasten it on your wrist. - “Keep it for yourself. I gave it to you. Take care of yourself, y/n”

No one is to blame for anything. He knows that you acted honestly and knows that there was no cheating.

But still, a forgotten glass of alcohol falls to the floor, shattering as soon as your footsteps die down outside the door.

“The girl is only gonna break you heart.” someone told him then. It didn't matter now.

Nobody loves no one.

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #reader #leon scott kennedy x reader #resident evil x you #agnst

179 notes · View notes

luvring · 1 year

Note

If it's okay could you please say your thoughts of Vere and Ais (separately) with someone that is insecure of not being good enough for them after learning they are with each other before?

AIS & VERE WITH AN S/O INSECURE OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP

gn!reader | meeoewww. their overarching reactions are similar imo which is why i got. stuck. trying not 2 be repetitive. But that's just how the cookie crumbles...! they love u and only u

AIS

ais has a pretty good handle on having conversations and reading moods, both from leader experience and Boyfriend/You experience. he'll have noticed something's off, but won't bring it up until you're home. he asks if you want to talk about what's bothering you, whatever it is.

if you try to brush him off, he won't directly say Bullshit, but he's quiet for enough time that you know he isn't calling you on it on purpose. he'll wait as long as he needs to

lets out a deep breath when he realizes how he's been making you feel, even if he wasn't aware of it. you apologize sort of as a default reaction and he immediately says you don't have to

i think he would talk about his relationship with vere and how and why it ultimately didn't work out. and how you were different from the get-go with how you met and your relationship developed in comparison. ais would also bring up how he thinks their relationship wouldn't have worked out in the long run, and how he likes to go do mundane chores with you, but wouldn't have with vere in the past

^ the chores thing i'm seeing said as a lighthearted joke, maybe about never going grocery shopping with vere or something, just to lift your spirits a little before he reassures you that you have nothing to worry about.

once you've talked about it, ais makes an effort to spend more time with you and be more affectionate! showing up wherever you said you'd be going the next day instead of waiting for you to come to the seaspring, having his arm around you when possible, etc. he'll also relax with his,, Attitude for a while.

the attitude one might be a little subconscious.. he still teases you, but seeing you upset and knowing he was part of it kind of affects him, even after you've talked through it. once you're back to, for lack of better wording at 1 am, fucking around with him,, so is he!

you notice how he invites you out more than usual, and he says it's because he doesn't like being lonely, you know that. you're both aware of the underlying reasoning though.

he'd like if you and vere were able to get along, and he's always there wordlessly reassuring you that he's unapologetically yours, but if you want to take your time, he's okay with that too

VERE

he almost immediately notices something is off when you don't return his teasing comments or fluster from his flirtation.

Calls you on your bullshit. with a little more tact, depending on how you'd react. if he doesn't straight up say "bullshit," he might say something like "are you really trying to lie to me?"

after you've explained how you feel, he stays quiet for a while, both to think about what to say and to give you some time before he responds

direct with his words. things like "i don't like him like that anymore." and "i'm with you for a reason, you know. i don't just date anyone."

the kind of guy to make sure you're looking at him when he reminds you that you're lucky special enough to get his attention, and to break down his walls.

he tells you about how different your relationships are objectively and to Him. how none of his past relationships affect how he feels about you, the same way he wouldn't expect yours to (if you have any). and vere can't deny or ignore his relationship with ais, how close they are compared to most other people—really, he won't. he thinks it'd be shitty to everyone involved if he tried. but he wants you to know that doesn't affect how much he cares about you in a much more intimate, long-term way

in general, vere doesn't act too differently from usual once you've talked about your feelings. he might relax on the innuendos, but you can never take his wittiness away from this guy. he ends up choosing some more sfw teasing/flirting instead.

at some point in the week after, whenever you all meet up, vere makes a point to stick by you and to think of a comment related to You being the one person in this place he'd go home with, even without

ais would do the same thing, but if there were any random reason where vere had to choose between the two of you (for something silly and fun ! perhaps a game team) he won't even make a joke about not choosing you.

well. at least not for a While,, like when he's confident you're both in a good place he might tease you again. but not any time soon !

#touchstarved #touchstarved game #ais x reader #vere x reader #it is no longer 1am when im posting this. good morning #q

140 notes · View notes

raccoonspooky · 2 years

Text

Cursed Domestic Bo Sinclair Headcanons: (Slight NSFW, nothing explicit)

He’s really into ham and cheese sandwiches. Which is fine, but he likes an ungodly amount of mayo. It gushes out the side of the damned bread, it gets on his fingers, and watching him eat his lunch is somehow more horrifying than anything else you’ve so far seen in Ambrose. If you dare to question his sandwich habits, he will be completely offended and will also berate you over your apparent desire for dry sandwiches.

Come to think of it, you’re not sure when was the last time you saw him eat a vegetable? The thought is disturbing as it is worrying. You want to cook him something but you’re also afraid of his picky eating habits.

One day he’s mid-rant about some bullshit that’s got his panties in a twist and he pauses to open the fridge, grab a jar of pickles, unscrew that shit and take a fucking swig of the juice. He leaves it open on the counter and you seriously consider just how strong your stockholm syndrome is. Maybe if you ran right now you’d get a good ten feet of distance before he caught you?

More stupid under the cut!

Laundry day is entirely too infrequent considering the nasty shit he gets up to. Until you were brave enough to start doing some chores around the house, you once noted that Bo wore the same pair of jeans for two weeks straight. When he took them off they pretty much held their shape as if he was still wearing them. You felt a part of your soul die when realizing that you definitely had been straddling his lap a few days ago, grinding down on him while he was wearing those god-awful nasty ass pants.

You’re sort of mad about having to do his laundry, because all of a sudden you’re doing Vincent’s laundry as well, and it's like you’ve strongarmed your way into being the Sinclairs' goddamned maid because you couldn’t stand the idea of Bo’s filthy clothing stinking up the fucking house.

You fear the day that Lester starts bringing his laundry to the house as well.

Maybe running away and taking your chances doesn’t sound that bad.

Sleeping next to him has its ups and downs. Sometimes he’s a clingy cuddler, and you remember all the reasons you’re so attached to him. He makes you feel special, you love the quiet moments when he lets the whole tough guy act down. Sometimes the way he touches you feels performative, like he’s rough and he’s making a point to go out of his way to behave like jerk because he wants to remind you of your place. He can't showboat in his sleep and the way he holds you when his brain’s turned off always feels more genuine.

For every night that you’re given the grace of comfort, there’s a frustrating sequence of incoming nights where he’ll roll over, facing away from you while taking up ninety percent of the bed. He takes whatever blankets there are and if you’re lucky you’ll get a flat, horrible pillow with a yellowed pillowcase. It’s gross but it smells like him.

You might have to pilfer a blanket from somewhere else, but he grumbles in his sleep if you move too much.

Whatever god-awful instinct he has to keep you doesn’t turn off in his sleep. If he’s having an anti-cuddle night, he’ll grab your wrist or grab you by the hair if he’s really feeling like a jerk just to keep you from moving around. You’d find the clinginess cute if not for the fact that you feel like you’re going to fall off the bed and the measly half-inch thick slab of fabric at your head barely holds any recollection of the fact that its supposed to be a pillow.

You’ve learned not to bother him when he seems averse to touch. Sometimes you watch him sleep in the early mornings and there’s always a definitive moment where the peace on his face turns hard and it's like he puts on this mask of whatever shitty attitude he feels like wearing for the day.

If you’re lucky he’ll let you kiss him when he’s a little more awake. He’ll be soft with you for approximately ten minutes because god forbid he let you get the dumbass notion that he might love you. No. He’s going to kiss you until your breathless and then he’s going to insinuate you should really do something about his morning wood and it ain't nice to get him all worked up if you’re not planning to do something about it

It’s like he has some kind of supernatural sense of knowing when it comes to your happiness and he has to up his asshole meter to keep you from getting your head too lost in the clouds. It’s like once you’re just about feeling all stupid and full of daisies and butterflies then the hairs at the back of his neck start feeling funny and then he’ll have to behave like a jerk for a few days just to keep your infatuation with him at a low simmer.

He’s got one of those classic oil-can banjos in the house. It’s a downright statement piece when it comes to his whole hick vibe going on. You’re not sure where it came from. You’re not sure if he gets the irony in the fact that he owns that fucking thing.

Can he play it though? No. Does he plunk away at it at random intervals with some kind of annoying mockery of a song? Yes. All the time. He likes having something to do with his hands. He’ll pull at strings, playing the same notes over and over. If you know some basic fingerpicking or chords he might be enthused with your know-how but he’s not interested in letting you teach him.

There's a guitar in the house. Its neck is a little fucked, but you wonder if you can fix it up for him? Maybe he’s better with it than the damned banjo.

Once, you found a bunch of old board games in the house. Somehow Bo made shoots and fucking ladders a miserable experience and you weren’t even sure how he managed to cheat but you’ll swear on your life that he goddamned did. It was a struggle and a half to even get him to entertain the idea of playing a board game with you and then he had to go ahead and ruin it.

It’s entirely easy to convince Lester to play a game with you. You play stupid board games in secret because not only is Bo a sore loser, but he’s sort of shit at remembering the rules for more complicated games. He’s no fun to play with.

Monopoly is now banned entirely from the house.

They have an ancient NES system, likely pilfered from a victim’s car. Maybe some college kid who never made it to their dorm. Bo’s oddly good at duck hunt and he makes you watch him play. You’re almost jealous of the damned game because he’s never looked at you with genuinely excited joy. His juvenile happiness is cute though, but sometimes you worry about him punching the damned tv with his post-game euphoria found in murdering pixelated ducks.

I could go on but I need to forcibly shut myself up.

I dedicate this nonsense to @ventiswampwater because she mentioned the pickle thing the other day and literally I cannot stop laughing about it. It paints such a fucking picture.

#house of wax #bo sinclair #slasher fandom #this is nonsense #genuine NONSENSE #x reader #x reader fanfic #slashers #sinclair brothers #the others are mentioned but idk i dont wanna clog up theiir tags lol #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair x reader

510 notes · View notes

doubledyke · 4 months

Note

Comparing Edd to Eddy, which of the two you would say gone through the worst shit throughout the show?

(regarding both their homelifes AND all the bad stuff across the episodes too).

putting this under the cut cuz it gets pretty miserable lmao

also, i'm including ed.

as far as the canon of the show and movie i'll go with eddy obviously because of the whole bro thing, and bc he's most often the target of everyone's rage. at least with ed and edd, there seems to be a baseline of decency and occasional kindness from the other kids. as soon as eddy rears his square head, everyone's groaning and patting at their pockets. nazz and rolf are okay towards him a couple times i guess, but it ends in disaster nonetheless.

still going strictly by canon events i'd say edd is next. he's so damn stressed the entire time that it stresses ME out. eddy and ed put him through a lot both mentally and physically. he's so frail 😭 he can't handle all that.

ending with ed just cuz he comes off as impervious to any physical harm, and blocks a lot of the mental stuff as a defense mechanism. he does whatever he can to stay in his happy place and he's gotten really good at it. not saying he doesn't go through anything or that he isn't affected, he's just the least affected of the three.

we don't have a ton to go off of in terms of their home life, which is totally fine by me. preferable in fact. as a disclaimer, it's generally shitty to compare trauma, but they're cartoon characters so i'll compare their *fictional* trauma lmao. all just my opinion etc., etc.

during the run of the show, my opinion is that ed has it the worst at home. i imagine that he's made to feel very much like the red headed step-child. it's his parents and sarah teaming up against him, blaming him for all their problems. belittling, degrading and and if he's lucky, ignoring him. his dad really just reacts to what his wife and daughter tell him, but he reacts just the same. ed is cast to the basement and they all try really really hard to pretend that he doesn't exist. maybe his dad takes pity on him from time to time and buys him a comic or a movie behind his wife's back. or maybe he doesn't. he certainly doesn't want to ruffle feathers and make himself more miserable than he already is. come on, he just got off work. and once again, ed checks out to survive. i think there would be a point where ed and edd kinda look at each other and are like "what the fuck" in response to seeing ed's treatment first hand. we kind of get something close to that in the show when ed tells them they literally took his stairs.

edd is next i guess cuz he's got such a terrible wake up call in his future. realizing that no dude, it's not even slightly normal to communicate with your parents strictly via sticky note. it's not normal for a kid to be expected to take care of every single chore and task around the house. and all the books, all the academic achievements, all the folded socks in the world aren't gonna make them love you. then dealing with his (i always use this word) DEBILITATING anxiety on top of all that? i've said it before but he's straight up burnt out by the end of the show at age 12/13.

edd by the start of bps:

i put eddy last bc at least during the show his home life seems relatively normal. his mom is very obviously doting and his dad is okay as long as he keeps that wrist tight. with bro gone, the immediate threat is neutralized, and he's in no hurry to unpack anything going on internally. much like the other two, there's a major realization and subsequent struggle in his future. but he's slightly more deluded than edd and is actually the last of the three to accept that his childhood was fucked up. even after bps, he kinda knows, but he's incapable of accepting that he was a victim. bruises heal, what's the big deal? bro didn't have to do all that in front of everyone though, geez. his self worth is so low that he doesn't believe his experiences can be considered abuse. he's the one that pissed his brother off, after all. and so on and so forth. anywho, if bro still lived in the house i'd probably put him at the top of the list cuz like... not to get too dark here but idk man "accidents" happen and who knows if bro could've been stopped if no one was around. my personal hc as to why bro left or was forced to leave is that there was a really close call.

so yeah they all have fucked up home lives and day to day lives. they're so miserable 🥺 yes i will compound it 🥹

#text

24 notes · View notes

goldenblu · 4 months

Text

hold your fire (by the throat) - chapter 4

One Piece | Zosan | Post-Wano AU where Sanji slowly loses his emotions

Chapter 4: the devil that you forgot

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” “Putting away the groceries,” Zoro says, like it’s obvious. Sanji is going to break his nose. “Why?”

Preview:

The next morning, Robin comes with him to buy groceries after breakfast. To take a look at what’s on sale, she says, but Sanji chooses to believe it’s because she’s irresistibly drawn to his charm and good looks. And who is he to say no to an outing with a heavenly angel?

When they arrive at the open air market, there’s not too much of a crowd, probably because it’s only an hour past dawn. He made sure to cook breakfast earlier than usual today because he wanted to get the fuck off the ship as soon as possible after baring his insides to the shitty mosshead of all people yesterday. It means that the late-risers won’t be getting freshly made food, but he can take the blow to his pride as a chef this one time.

As he stews over this, Robin passes him a pouch of berry. “This is from Nami. It should be more than enough, according to her.”

“Ah, Nami-san’s so generous! I won’t spend a penny more than I need to,” Sanji promises. He withdraws the shopping list he drew up last night after taking inventory. “Spices first, I think.”

Though he knows it’s seen as a chore to some of the others, grocery shopping is one of his favorite parts of visiting new places. With all the wildly different climates and cultures of each island on the Grand Line, it’s a perfect way to discover new flavors and ingredients that he hasn’t come across before. As someone who’s constantly looking for new ways to expand his repertoire of dishes, he couldn’t ask for a better opportunity.

Flitting from stall to stall, he samples various spices and marinades and produce, crossing off items on his list as he goes. He also finally learns that the island is called Quarry Island, apparently named for the nearby quarry which supplies the mineral ore that makes up their main export. He doesn’t particularly care about the details, he’s just thankful for the way it distracts him from brooding over yesterday’s discovery.

He hadn’t slept well last night, tossing and turning and thinking about what it could mean for him. Because the mosshead could be right that it’s nothing, but he could also be wrong. The little sleep that Sanji had managed hadn’t been restful at all, full of strange half-forgotten dreams, and he’d woken up feeling like shit, with a deep sense of foreboding that he couldn’t shake off.

Now, in the daylight, Sanji refuses to let himself dwell on it too long, or else he’s going to start screaming and never stop. He focuses on the food instead. This island seems to lean towards West Blue cuisine, he notices, with a prevalence of fragrant herb-infused sauces and hearty root vegetables, the kinds that pair well with shellfish. Makes sense, he supposes, given the abundance of crustaceans in the bay.

There’s a booth selling fried crickets that he steers clear of. Even though he’s usually open to trying all sorts of new foods no matter how weird or gross, insects are the one thing he’d really rather not eat if he doesn’t have to. He suppresses a shudder, feeling the phantom sensation of things crawling over his neck, his cheeks, his eyes, cruel laughter echoing through the suffocating weight of a mask on his head.

Abort. Abort. Think about something else.

He’s determinedly examining some regional mushrooms—and wondering if he could cook it in a way that even Usopp would like—when a disembodied mouth sprouts in front of him. Robin’s voice says, “Sanji, could you come over here? To your left.”

(continue on AO3)

#one piece #zosan #sanzo #sanji #zoro #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #emotionless sanji au #hold your fire by the throat #mine #my writing

26 notes · View notes

the-shy-wolf · 1 year

Text

I’ll be posting this to Twitter tomorrow, but since I’m more active here, I’ll go ahead and post. To everyone who has supported me up to this point, I appreciate everything, more than you will ever know. Despite my claims of being an ‘edgelord’, I think it’s no secret that that’s absolutely not the case. I’m an incredibly sensitive person. So sensitive, in fact, that I’m easily stressed when it comes to certain things. I’ve been having to take frequent breaks from the internet due to my extreme levels of anxiety. My anxiety has been so bad, I now have seizures due to my stress levels being so high. Don’t worry, I am working with a therapist and psychologist with this, and with therapy and appropriate medication, I can beat it.

With that being said, I’m sorry to say I’m stepping away from the Deltarune fandom. I’m sad and extremely conflicted about it, because it was Deltarune that helped me make so many friends and meet so many people. This is my first time having a place in fandom, I was briefly involved in the Adventure Time fandom, but that was years ago and it was a brief thing. I’ve never had this many eyes on me, and it’s overwhelming. My time and the emotional investment I’ve been putting into fandom/art has felt like a second job, and I’m not okay with that. I originally started posting art, because I was inspired. It’s also helped me cope with the loss of my brother. But it’s no longer a coping method, it feels more like a chore and it no longer brings me happiness. I’ve been harassed by anon hate/criticisms mercilessly, and it’s taken a toll on me. I’m 30 years old, and if I have not developed a thick skin now, it’s safe to say I never will. Which is another thing I want to bring up: I no longer want to draw ship art of Deltarune characters, and that includes Kris and Susie. I’m tired of the shipping discourse/hate, and to be honest, I don’t want to only be known for shipping characters from a game. I think it’s made people not take me seriously as an artist at all, and it’s no longer enjoyable. I started shipping the characters because they both reminded me of my partner and I, but now, it’s all anyone ever relates my work to, and that includes oc’s. It’s frustrating. I’m a short, brown headed enby. Bram is a big freckled long haired dude. My ocs look like us. Please stop mixing the two- it ain’t that deep.

I’m sorry if this came out of the blue, but after receiving my diagnosis yesterday, I need to cut back on my stress levels, and a lot of that stress stems from fandom. Will I draw DR in the future? Maybe. Especially once new content is dropped. Idk if it will be shipping, but it’ll be something. I will, of course, continue to support all of my art friends. You’ve been nothing but kind and supportive of me, and despite my absence, I care very, very much. So much, in fact, I isolate myself from everyone because I don’t feel worthy to associate or even share my art. I know that’s a shitty excuse, but it’s true. There is a voice in my head that keeps telling me I’m not worthy to even associate. If this disappoints my friends/supporters, I’m so very sorry. It’s how my brain has always worked.

I also want to apologize for leaving my other sm accounts. I was not trying to worry or cause panic. I don’t think too many people even noticed, which is good. It’s not the first time I’ve deactivated. My hands get busy and sometimes deactivating and stepping away is a good reset button for me. But I wanted to throw all of this out there. I’m sorry if this is disappointing or upsetting, but I want to be honest. About all of it.

Thank you for reading, again- I’m so sorry. I’ll probably reactivate and post this message to Twitter tomorrow.

#self

67 notes · View notes

doggernaut · 5 months

Note

Role reversal AU?

This AU, unfortunately, is very far down the list of things I'm likely to finish, mainly because it's a much bigger fic than I have time to write at the moment. It was originally a prompt I chose for last year's @omgauplease fest, but between school work and marathon training I just didn't have enough time to devote to it.

The gist of the prompt was a role reversal fic where Bitty is a cocky, closeted figure skater who's about to spin out of control and Jack, having gone through something similar, is the only one who recognizes what's happening to Bitty.

To make it more of a role reversal, after Jack's overdose he took up baking and started taking hockey a lot less seriously. So while he is still captain of SMH in this AU, and professional hockey is still a goal he's working toward at the beginning of the fic, baking professionally becomes his primary ambition as the fic progresses.

Looking at what I've already written and what I have planned, I really would like to finish this fic someday; I just can't give it the attention it requires at the moment. But here is a fun (I think) interaction involving Ransom and Holster:

The muffins are cooling on a rack by the time Ransom and Holster finally make it down an hour later, dressed in their khaki shorts and polo shirts emblazoned with the name of the golf course they work at. “Dude, Shitty said there are new muffins?” Ransom asks while Holster pulls two Gatorades from the fridge. Jack grabs two egg and spinach muffins off the cooling rack and hands them over. “Something new.” Holster eyes the muffin skeptically. “Fucking hell, Jack, what’s the deal with these muffins? They look like the Incredible Hulk took a shit.” “That’s spinach.” And Holster’s not exactly wrong about their visual description, but Jack isn’t going to give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him. “What happened to the cinnamon streusel?” Ransom asks. “Those were fucking incredible.” “I’m trying something new. We don’t need to have dessert for breakfast every day, especially with morning practices starting soon. These will give you energy for the day.” “They taste like ass and make me want to die,” Holster says dramatically. That’s actually good feedback. Jack had thought they were a little bland. Next batch, he’ll add some Tabasco. Despite Holster’s less-than-stellar review, Ransom and Holster each take a second muffin. “Hey,” Jack says, taking advantage of the fact that the guys’ mouths are full and they can’t interrupt him, “there’s this guy who keeps rushing me off the ice every morning. Figure skater. You have any idea who he is?” “Like, a student?” Holster asks. “Or just somebody using the rink?” Jack shrugs. “I get the feeling he goes here, but I’ve never asked.” “You could, you know. Ask. Like a normal person. Unless … Jack, do you have a crush?” “No,” Jack says emphatically. Why do people keep thinking that? “I just want to know who he is and why he’s using the rink. I don’t want problems when practices start up.” “Fine, we’ll do some recon.” Holster sighs, as if it’s a huge chore and not one of their favorite pastimes. Somehow, despite only being rising sophomores, Ransom and Holster are Facebook friends with half the college students in the entire state of Massachusetts. Or, at least the athletes. Jack’s positive that somebody in their vast network will know who this guy is. “But you know you could just ask him,” Ransom reminds Jack. “Like a normal person.”

It’s three days before the guys get back to Jack. Three days in which he does not talk to the guy “like a normal person” because Jack has been getting up even earlier to make sure he’s out of the rink before the guy arrives. He knows this isn’t sustainable; once regular classes and practices start up he’ll no longer have the luxury of a mid-day nap. But it works for now. “Yo, Jack!” Ransom calls as they clatter into the Haus, sweaty and disheveled after work. “We got the deets on your figure skater.” Jack sighs. “He’s not my figure skater.” Ransom waves away Jack’s correction. “Whatever, you know who I mean. Do we have any Gatorade?” he asks, sticking his head in the fridge. “It’s Eric Bittle,” Holster says, as if the name is supposed to be of significance. “And?” “Eric. Bittle,” Holster repeats. He pauses to take a swig of the blue Gatorade Ransom’s just passed off to him. “Figure skater, took third at Junior Nationals a few years ago and surprised everyone when he moved up to the men’s division and took thirteenth last year.” “But he’s better known for his social media presence,” Ransom adds. “He’s all over Twitter and Insta, and he’s got this YouTube vlog where he talks about behind the scenes skating stuff and does routines to popular songs. At Nationals he got a couple of guys to do the Single Ladies dance with him and it went viral. I don’t know how you missed it, it was everywhere for like … a week.” “Was it during the season?” Jack barely pays attention to the latest viral trends as it is. Ransom rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Do you want the deets or not?” “Are there more ‘deets?’” “He got dropped by his coach after that video went viral. She said he could have placed in the top five at Nationals if he took skating as seriously as his YouTube career.” “Ouch.” Ransom nods. “Well, yeah. And then he made a rebuttal video accusing his coach of not preparing him well enough for the competition, and that that was the reason he scored so low. Now he can’t find a coach willing to work with him.” “He said that?” Jacks interrupts. “Not in so many words, but this guy at work who plays for BC dates this girl who skates and she heard through the grapevine—” “Okay, okay.” Jack motions for Ransom to continue. “So he’s here at Samwell. He was supposed to start here last year—“ “There’s an episode of his vlog where he opens his acceptance letter—” “—but he deferred for a year to focus on skating.” If Ransom and Holster devoted half as much time to working on plays as they apparently have to watching some random figure skater’s YouTube archives, Jack thinks, SMH might have gone a little further in last year’s post-season. “Our point is, you really should know who he is because he’s the biggest celebrity to attend Samwell since that girl who won a Tony when she was fourteen a few years back,” Holster says. “Way more famous than you,” Ransom adds unnecessarily. Every year Samwell gets one or two high profile students who are famous for one thing or another. Jack didn’t win a Nobel Peace Prize as a teenager or star in a long-running Disney Channel show. But his dad won a few Stanley Cups as a professional hockey player and his mom was a supermodel before becoming an actress, so … he’s not the average college student, either. He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have been selected as one of “Samwell’s Most Beautiful” if his parents weren’t who they are. “So he’s not competing anymore?” Jack asks. Ransom shrugs. “The last video he posted was right before he left to come here. He said he’s going to focus on school for a while and coach himself.” “Huh.” None of this is what Jack expected to learn, but he can’t deny he’s intrigued. “Thanks.” Holster downs the last of the Gatorade in one gulp and belches. “This one was a freebie. Next time you require our shit excavation services, we’re gonna need you to pay us in muffins.”

#wip ask game #the-lincyclopedia #I tried to post this last night and for some reason Tumblr refused to let me post it.

17 notes · View notes

gerudospiriit · 2 months

Text

[Alright, I officially finished A Link to the Past so I can officially have an opinion now. Under the cut because it might get long (not that anyone will probably read this but I need to SHARE).

SO. To start this off, I really cannot grasp how people like what's his nuts from GG can say that this game is better than Ocarina of Time or really any game that follows it. However, this isn't about comparing the two games like a cranky, bitter baby. and all I'll say to such comparisons is they DEFINITELY improved on a lot over the years as any game franchise should. So, yeah, my bias aside, I would never say this game was better than OoT, and I don't think anyone actually being honest about it can either.

That said, the game was okay. I like getting some lore I'm less familiar with for what that's worth. The game was fun at time but, honestly, it overall felt more like a chore than a fun game to play. Starting with the story, which I get wasn't meant to be the focus, it's pretty standard: Ganon is trying to do mayhem and you have to do x, y, and z to stop him. There's really just...no meat to it. There's nothing really that makes me feel connected to the characters or what I'm trying to do as the gameplay feels too far removed from the plot, and there is nothing that you do that feels really impactful. The stakes don't feel like they're there.

I also didn't get how people praise this game and a few others a lot because you can do the dungeons in any order. Like...it wasn't all of them, it seemed to me? Like there were definitely times where I had to do one temple and get the item there before I could do another. There's definitely more freedom in that realm than other games, but I don't see how it makes the game better or worse.

My biggest gripes were with the mechanics/gameplay. I'll just list some of them and try to be brief about describing why they're gripes.

The item mechanics. On it's face, it's not the worst, but in practice it was annoying. Only having access to one item aside, it always felt clunky and obnoxious to set items and use them. I really think they could have optimized this and the menu system better in general to help that.

Maybe this was my dumbass, but the hitboxes felt...off a lot of times. Like I would watch my sword hit something very obviously but it wouldn't actually hit. Like I said, maybe this was user error, but I'm not really sure and it annoyed me.

BALANCING. I don't mind games being difficult or unforgiving. But holy shit there was literally no balancing of health regeneration. And I'll take partial blame on this: I could have done more to get all the bottles so I could carry more potions and maybe a net(?) to catch fairies(?), but holy shit. At least let people regen A LITTLE before reaching a boss fight. Like yeah, most of the boss fights were surprisingly easy, but when you have to run through the WHOLE TEMPLE AGAIN because you lost, it really sucks because, chances are, you're going to lose that health you got from your revival (which isn't much) and be back at square one when you reach the boss again. And that's not discussing how it feels like the enemies do WAY too much damage, which is especially shitty when you reach rooms where you literally cannot avoid taking said damage (I like to think I'm at least decent enough at the game, btw; not the best by any means but decent). I was at least a big cheater and abused the rewind function on the Switch emulator but holy shit. If I played properly, I'm not sure I would have made it to the end.

And my biggest gripe was easily how you could literally finish at least one whole dungeon, get to the boss, and realize you didn't have the weapon you needed to win. That's what happened to me. And don't get me wrong. I don't mind the finding items that will help you outside of dungeons just fine. But what isn't fair is that there is no indication that you needed the ice rod to beat the boss in Turtle Rock dungeon. You don't need it at all to progress through the temple, and there is nothing leading you there. This might be the only time this really happens (or maybe I just got lucky), but it's poor game design, full stop. It's unfair to the player imo to do that. Again. I don't mind that it had to be found outside of the dungeons. But if it is a NECESSARY ITEM there should be some story beat or something that leads you toward said item. I shouldn't be able to run through a whole temple, get to the boss, and realize I'm missing something.

I probably had more specific gripes, but these were the big ones. And I get some of this was probably on me; I'm not saying the game is absolute horse shit and terrible. But it really hasn't aged well. I like a hard game, but in places, this game felt unfair. I'm sure this is an improvement on the previous games (I only vaguely remember trying Zelda 1 and 2 and failing miserably as a kid), but, objectively, I don't see how anyone could say this is the best game in the franchise. To me, it's just dishonest because the following games have improved IMMENSELY on this one.]

#[ ☀ ˢᵖⁱʳⁱᵗˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵇᵉʸᵒⁿᵈ ;; ᵒᵒᶜ ]

6 notes · View notes

strange-ghoul · 1 year

Text

Comfort (Transmasc Reader x Cardinal Copia)

You come out to the Cardinal, and he realizes that you haven't been taking care of yourself so well. Don't fret! He's here to help you through this tough time and get you squeaky clean.

Word count: 4,342 Rating: General Audiences || Fluff

Posted On AO3

The night was bright; the full moon was shining upon the gardens below. Here you sat on a balcony that overlooked those gardens. You watched as the wind blew harmlessly past some rose bushes. The garden was well kept, all thanks to Primo, which had always been your safe place. Tonight, however, you couldn't bring yourself to walk along the paths.

Honestly, you were lucky to be out at all. You hadn’t left your dorm in about a week, only to do your mandatory chores and to snag food before going back to eat in your room. You’ve heard only a few whispers from some siblings, but you tried not to let it bother you.

Your dorm became your second safe place, next to the gardens. You had covered all the mirrors and the windows were constantly shut. You had your books to occupy you and whatever videos you saw on your phone. You were currently saving for a small TV, but that was going to be a minute.

This past week, your body and gender dysphoria was getting worse and worse, more than it ever has before. You weren’t out to anybody, as you were terrified of ever coming out. It wasn’t that you thought they’d hate you, no, quite the opposite actually; the clergy was overwhelmingly accepting of everything and anything. Your deep seated trust issues however formed by a long ago negative reaction made you untrusting all the same. Plus, all the change scared you. It was a good change, absolutely, but you felt so much anxiety in having this change that you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. So you barred yourself off. Finding any and all reasons not to wear the dreading habit and not to engage in any social situations in which your gender might come into question.

The night is where you get some time to yourself. You often came out to walk through the garden and breathe. Occasionally you’d help Primo where you could when you saw something amiss while the old man was sleeping. But even recently you didn’t have any energy to go all the way down there to sit and bask in the moon’s light.

You leaned against the railing. You were wearing your habit because it was still early enough where a few siblings might still be walking. You’d rather not have any rumors floating around about losing faith. You hadn’t been really able to do anything with your faith since your issues started to worsen, however this did not mean you were losing it.

There was a creek behind you, and you barely turned your head. The door was wide open, but nobody was there, with the exception of a rat sitting near the doorway. The hair on the back of your neck stood up.

“Hello?” You called out, voice meek.

“Sister.” You jumped out of your skin, the voice right next to you. Copia was already leaning against the rail, looking at you. He wore his black cassock and his eyes had the racoon makeup you always endeared.

“Oh! Cardinal! I’m so sorry, I didn’t notice you,” You apologized, rubbing the back of your neck. You went to shut the door before returning next to him.

“It is quite alright, Sorella. How have you been? I have not seen you in what feels like ages!” Copia asked, a comfortable smile on his lips. You sigh, feeling shitty from the title but knowing he meant well. He didn’t know anyways, so it was in no way his fault. Still, it hurt.

“Yes, yes.. I’ve been… alright,” Your voice faltered, whatever facade you were trying to put up was failing miserably.

“You are a terrible liar. Please, tell me what is on your mind,” Copia’s voice was soft and welcoming, and a part of you just wanted to get stuck in it forever. He reached out for your hand on the rail and gently laid his hand on yours. His thumb caressed the back of your hand.

“Nothing, Cardinal. I’ve just… I’ve got a lot on my mind,” You muttered, looking off into the horizon.

“Let me silence your mind then. You’ve been missing, more than usual, might I add. Some of the others have seen you without your habits and occasionally missing from mass- what is going on, cara?” He turned to you and he grabbed your hand, peeling it off the rail and holding it in both his hands, “Did something happen? Have you lost faith?” He murmured. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, his voice quiet as if whispering heresys. His eyes were cast downwards, locked on your hands.

“No!” You said, a bit too loud which made him flinch, “I’m sorry, that was loud. No, I.. I have not lost faith. I just…” You took a shaky breath in,

“Yes, sorella?”

“Please, please stop calling me that.” You took your hand back and noticed how much you were shaking. You grabbed the rail tightly again, hands clammy.

“I do not feel… like a sister.” Copia went silent, his brows furrowed.

“Do you not feel cared for within the clergy? I am sorry, I did not realize-”

“No, Cardinal. I do not feel like a girl. I… oh Satanas,” You groaned. This was happening. You were doing it. And to one of the most highest ranking clergy members. You were terrified.

You don’t remember when you collapsed to your knees, or when you buried your face into his shoulder as you sobbed against him, or when you crawled into his lap and he held you. All you remember is the amount of frustration, anxiety, pain, and hurt finally all spilling out in one go. You’ve got no idea how long you cried in his arms but now your head was pounding and you weren’t even sure if he knew why.

“Copia…” You muttered finally.

“Yes?”

“I want… I want to be more like a boy. I.. I’m not a girl.” Copia pulled back, and for a moment, you feared you'd made a big mistake. But instead, he wiped your hot tears away. He kissed the top of your forehead and you looked down. He brought a hand under your chin, drawing you to look up at him.

“Then be a man, fratello,” He looked away, his face turning red before turning back, “May I… kiss you? For comfort, of course.” You smiled and nodded. He leaned in, kissing you delicately on the lips. He was soft and tentative but held you close to him. You kissed back and your hands grabbed at his clothes in a desperate ploy to keep him close to you.

He pulled back and analyzed your face for a moment.

“Ah, we must change your clothes. These habits simply won’t do. Come, I’m sure we can grab some for you. I’ll give you some tips on how I managed pre-t,” He got up and extended a hand towards you. You took it and the two of you headed into the abby.

“How you managed pre-testosterone?” You echoed in awe.

“Si! I am a self-made man, caro. As are you. We should start the rather long process to get you what you need to help you transition as well. Though I’m sure with the Ministry’s reputation, we can speed up that process.” He winked at you and you smiled brightly.

The two of you took off to the laundries. You paid no attention to the looks the two of you got as the both of you ran, hand in hand. Once in there, he began digging through the clean clothes, asking an assortment of questions to gauge the right size for you. You watched him and felt yourself tear up again. Nobody had ever gone to such an extent to make you feel comfortable.

He looked up right at the time a tear fell from your face. He gasped and rushed over to you, “No! No more crying, why are you crying brother?”

You gave him a smile and hugged him. You held him closely, squeezing him, “Thank you,” you whispered. He hugged you back, and gently patted your hair.

“Of course, I can’t have my star sibling feeling down, now can I?” He pulled back.

The door opened to the laundromats and entered one of the senior sisters.

She raised an eyebrow at the scene, “Now what are you two doing out of bed so late?” Her voice was teasing and light.

“Ah! We’re getting Brother here some new clothes. These habits don’t work for him any more,” Copia managed, pulling back and bringing the clothes out like a child presenting a drawing to his mother. The elder sister looked over to you, and you just smiled and nodded sheepishly.

“Ah, well leave this place as clean as you came in please. I hate having to fix it,” She waved as she dropped the basket she was holding, “Goodnight Cardinal, goodnight Brother!” And off she was. The two of you basked in silence, you felt like you were glowing.

“I think I found your size now, let’s head back to yours and take out the rest of your habits. By tomorrow, I will make sure you have a full new laundry set with your dimensions.” The two of you took off back up to your dormitories. There weren’t as many siblings in the halls and you could gander it was getting close to midnight.

“How are you feeling?” Copia asked as you two got to your door.

“Better than I have in the last few years. Relieved? Light?” You tried to answer, “I just feel.. Okay. But not in the ‘im alright’ type way, but that everything is going to be okay. I’m sorry, I’m rambling.” You opened the door and gestured him in, he followed in and looked around the room.

There were your personal clothes littering the room, cans and cups stacked up on your nightstand and books lying around with something random to keep a bookmark on a page. The room was shrouded in darkness, and when he clicked on the light it just felt more depressing.

“Never be sorry for rambling to me, but… Oh my. What is with all the… eh… cloth?”

“Oh! I was uh… covering the mirrors…” You were quiet as you took them down. Your breath hitched as you caught a glimpse of yourself for the first time in a week. You looked tired and frail. You watched yourself as you took off the veil over your hair and saw how greasy your hair was. You felt lopsided. You forgot how you haven’t shower in a week due to your dysphoria and you became even more insecure.

As if he was reading your mind, he rushed to your side, “Let’s ignore the mirrors and room for now. Do you have a bath connected here?” He walked towards the door on one of the side walls of the room and noticed how small the bathroom was after opening. The mirror in that room was cracked, some of the shards still splayed the ground. You winced and looked away in shame. He looked over with pity but didn’t say anything.

“Ah, well maybe come back to my room after we’re done in here for you to relax. You’ve been in here for too long- if you’re okay with that?” You hesitated a moment before nodding slightly, “Do not worry fratello, I will not try anything. I am not like the Papas,” You chuckled at that and sat on the bed. He walked over your clothes and opened the closet. Most of your personal clothes were falling off their hangers or stuffed into one of the three bottom drawers of the closet. Your habits sat on the very end of the closet, untouched and dusty for the most part.

Copia grabbed a handful and laid them over his arm, then he grabbed the rest and did the same. He spun on his heel, “Can you grab your makeup and whatever else you use? Like binders, or a sports bra, really anything caro. I’m going to drop these off in the laundry.” You nodded and he left the room quickly. You delicately walked into the bathroom, grabbing your makeup bag and then going to the closet and taking out two of the binders you owned. You sat on the bed and waited for him. You ignored the mirrors as much as you could, terrified to fall back into the loop you’ve been going through for years now. For once, even if it’s just for tonight, you wanted to be content.

Copia came back quickly, and the two of you walked across th1`e Abby to get to his sleeping quarters. The halls became dim and more decorated gothic till you stopped at his doors. He opened them, allowing you to step in.

His room had a balcony overlooking the garden. He had a fireplace with chairs around it, a queen sized bed, a book shelf, and a larger-than-yours bathroom. At least, it was larger than your closet-under-the-stairs bathroom. In the corner of the room was a large cage filled with different enrichments for his multiple rats.

You made your way to the balcony and noticed how much of the garden you could see up here; you briefly wondered if he’s seen you walking in the garden the previous nights.

“Bello, no? I like to sit up here and feed my rats during the evenings. It’s much cooler.”

“It is, the night is also so much calmer. Less squinting from the glares of the sun,” You commented. He nodded and then laid out your clothes on his bed.

“Relax for a bit, I’m going to run the bath and get it warm for you.” You nodded and walked over to his bookshelf. You read the spines, occasionally taking a book out to flip through it to get a better understanding of it. You noticed he had a lot of books in Latin, and you wondered if he’d teach you if you asked. You heard some chirping and you looked over to his rat cage where they seemed to be staring at you from their various little houses. You cooed at them, giving a little wave when the bathroom door opened up.

“Come, topolino!” You waved bye to the rats and went over to the bathroom.

Copia’s cassock was discarded on the bathroom counter and he was wearing his black pants and a black long sleeved button up.

“Can you undress for me?” He asked hesitantly, before shaking his head vigorously, “Not like that though!! I mean- I want to help you- like… groom you, eh?” He stumbled through, his ears and face turning red with embarrassment.

“I… I would like that. Yes,” You answered, though unsure what he meant fully. You turned towards the bathroom to begin the shimmy of undressing, when you stopped. You met eyes with yourself and it felt like you were staring at a stranger.

He noticed your hesitancy and got behind you, “May I help you?” He asked softly.

“... please,” your voice was weak and you turned to face him and away from the mirrors. He nodded in understanding, kissing the top of your head delicately before taking off your garb.

The habit came off fairly easily and the clothes under it were just a shirt and shorts. He was much more careful with the underclothes; he tried not to linger in any certain place in fear of making you uncomfortable. Once the shirt and shorts were off he folded them and sat them on the counter. He looked over at you and noticed how you were now looking at the ceiling, your body slightly shaking.

“Fratello, look at me please.” You obeyed, looking back down to him, “You are a handsome man, si? Your body might not be the most optimal, but it will always be equally as handsome and beautiful as you are on the inside. Lucifer loves you despite your fears, as do I. You are a man, despite the changes that haven't happened yet, and I and everyone else will always see you as one.” He grabbed your chin and his thumb ran across your cheekbone. His eyes were filled with endearment. He gingerly made you raise your arms with his hands and took off the sports bra. You shivered at the cold air and cringed at the vulnerable feeling.

“You are very handsome and you’re going to get through this,” He whispered tenderly. You nodded. He bent down and helped pull your underwear off. You once again cringed, hating every second of this. He wasted no time in setting these items to the side and rushing you to the bathtub. You put a foot in and shivered. Going from cool heat to hot water always makes your hair stand up.

You sat in the water and leaned against the wall. There were a light amount of bubbles already in the water, hiding your body from yourself effectively enough. He took his gloves off and rolled up his sleeves. He grabbed a cup that was on the counter and filled it with bath water, then kneeled down beside you on the floor and dumped it over your head. He cupped a hand at your eyebrows so you wouldn’t get any water in your eyes. He did this a few more times, making sure your hair was thoroughly drenched before reaching over to grab the shampoo. He poured a bit into his palm and sat the bottle on the floor. He sat up on the bath’s ledge this time, rubbing his hands together to make sure the soap got on both hands and then running his hands through your wet hair.

You leaned into it, his fingers feeling nice against your unkempt hair and itchy scalp. You let out a content sigh as he scrubbed gently, making sure he lathered it well. He cleaned behind your ears and ran a hand from the bottom of your hair up.

“Do you want to cut your hair?” He asked softly.

“Satanas yes,” You looked up to him, “Can you?”

“I don’t think it is a good idea for me to cut your hair, but we can get someone tomorrow morning to do it professionally. Would you like that?” You nodded and he smiled, “Good. I’ll call ahead first thing tomorrow.”

He grabbed the cup again and began to wash the soap out of your hair. He still lightly scrubbed your hair as he did this, pulling out any tangles as he went.

Then he grabbed the conditioner and poured quite a bit out. He was delicate when applying it but made sure it got everywhere he could reach in your hair. He then pulled back, admiring his work for a second before grabbing a hand cloth from behind him and dumping it in the bathtub. He took it out and wringed it out of its water before applying body soap, which he also got from behind him.

“Caro, is it okay if you stand up for a bit? I need to wash you. I promise I’ll be quick.” You nodded hesitantly and slowly stood up. The cold air nipped at your skin and you tried to cover your breasts with your arms so you didn’t have to notice them. He moved with purpose and precision without missing a second. He started at your legs, working his way up and going over your nether regions lightly.

“Mi dispiace but is it okay if I…?”

“Yes, just… be fast please.” He nodded and you took a wider stance so it was easier for him to clean. He was true to what you asked, wiping the area down and going over the pubic hair. Light enough where you weren’t entirely uncomfortable, but enough to make it got you clean. You closed your legs as he dumped the washcloth into the bathtub and cleaned it off, reapplying soap before standing up. He cleaned your stomach and then went over your arms. He indicated for you to turn and so you did. He got your back and went up your neck. He went around your neck, making you giggle.

He chuckled in amusement, “Ah, ticklish fratello?”

“Slightly! Don’t exploit that!” You warn, looking over and playfully glaring.

He shook his head, “Wouldn’t dream of it, caro.” He grabbed your shoulders and shifted you to face him, “However, I do need you to uncross your arms,” You cringed, “Si, si I know. Only for a moment. You need to be clean, and we’ll discuss better ways to do this later, I promise. I doubt you want me to always be the one to clean you.”

“But what If I do?” You ask softly, “I mean not forever, but until I feel better.” He hummed, grabbing your arms and gently pulling them off you to expose your chest.

“I’ll help you in any way you need, mi caro.”

He was quick to soap you off the rest of the way and allowed you to sit back in the bathtub. He left the bathroom for a few minutes before reappearing with a towel and some pajamas.

“Your water will be getting cold soon, you should get out,” He suggested softly. You groaned, not wanting to have to face the mirror before slowly dragging yourself out. He opened the towel and you practically fell into it. He wrapped it around you, bringing you into a backwards hug. He snuggled into you, his body pressing tightly behind you as he nuzzled into your neck. You laughed slightly, feeling relief wash over you as you realize the harder part of the evening was over.

“Alright, change into these and I’ll be waiting for you out here. Can you do that?”

“Yep! I’ll be out in a minute.” He left the room and you slowly shrugged the towel off. You ignored the mirror completely and quickly got your sports bra and underwear on. It helped being able to only see clothes and not the skin. Then you put on the silk pants he gave you and an oversized cotton long-sleeved shirt. They were both big on you, but it worked well for now. You assumed that these were probably his clothes, and your face got a little hot. You look yourself over in the mirror, and you felt a little better about yourself.

You left the bathroom and saw Copia sitting in one of the chairs with a brush on the arm of the chair and scrolling through his phone. He was now in his own pajamas, and the fire was going bright and proud. He put his phone down and smiled brightly once you entered.

“Come here, let me brush your hair. I noticed it was becoming matted, much worse than the rat nests that my pets create,” He joked, motioning you towards him. You chuckle, then followed his orders. He pointed to the floor and you gave him a confused look.

“Sit down there, it'll be easier to brush your hair. I already booked a hair appointment for tomorrow as well.”

“Thank you so much, Copia,” You said as you sat down. He hummed, and ran a hand through your hair. He then began brushing your hair while absently humming a tune.

“You mentioned you’ve done testosterone, have you been through anything else?” You ask without really thinking. You were too deep in thought, staring into the fire as it crackled and popped.

“Si, I have. I’ve medically transitioned as much as is safe for me.” Your thoughts begin to go elsewhere, and your face heats up. You can’t tell if it’s the heat from the fire or thinking of his bottom surgery, and you’d rather not find out, “Though, you do not need to medically transition. You don’t even need to go on ‘t’ if you don’t want to, caro. Do what you think is right on this journey, not what others think you should be doing.” You hummed and a comfortable silence filled the room.

He was careful with his brushing, always grabbing your hair at the scalp if it was a rather tough tug to minimize any potential pain. It took nearly five minutes to get your hair under control.

“Ahh, all done. Now, I want to know, do you wish to do makeup now, or go to sleep and do it tomorrow? It’s just what I find helps best with outlining your more masculine features, so it’s no rush,” He asked, putting the brush down. You got up and sat at the chair opposite of his.

“I think I’d like to sleep. So much has happened and I just want to take it all in, y’know?”

He nodded in understanding, “Si. I will sleep on the couch. You can use the bed.”

You gave him an incredulous look, “What? Your bed is big enough for the both of us, if you want to share that is.” He looked surprised for a second, but nodded.

“Of course, as long as you are comfortable fratello.” You two got up and went to the bed.

The both of you set up your little areas and you stiffly got under the covers, not realizing how different it feels to sleep in someone else's bed. He took note of this.

“Are you okay with this?” He asked cautiously, unsure of how to approach the situation.

“Yes, I’m just… not used to this. At all,” You muttered. It was a lot to take in. The love and care from the cardinal was so much, and you just didn’t understand it fully. He scooted closer to you, wrapping his arms around your lower abdomen.

“Is… this okay?” He whispered into your ear, setting his head down on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” You whispered back. He kissed you slightly on the neck, breathing you in. Your hand fell onto his, and slowly darkness consumed you both. In the comfort of each other's arms, cared and loved for.

#cardinal copia x reader #transmasc reader #trans copia #the band ghost #ghost bc #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia x trans reader #fluff #comfort #grooming #(as in cleaning and taking care of oneself)#coming out #acceptance #my fanfics

121 notes · View notes