#Even if I was in any condition to work and had money why in the world would i not save it

[pplatonic]

Unfortunately I have to turn off asks because random strangers keep sending me charity/donation solicitations which spiral my moral OCD and paranoia/delusional thinking. So if you want to talk to me just DM me instead (discord is an option too, send me your usernames in DMs if you prefer that.)

[sodacowboy]

fan is on three feet away from me and I can still hear the fizz of the energy drink like a foot and a half away from me

[echoofadream]

Your favorite patient...

Part 1

Summary: You are a hardworking doctor and you save a man's life. Wait, why is he coming back with all sorts of conditions? What do you mean he followed you home? He's begging to be your...what?

Contains: Obsessive behavior(yandere), stalking, mentions of masturbation, slight smut, dom!reader(gender is not specified), sub!male!yandere.

Imagine you work in a hospital. You're a workaholic doctor who simply loves treating people and helping them get healthier and better. You greet everyone with a smile and try to cheer up every person who comes in, despite their state. 

One day a young man is brought into the ER and you find out he had been in a horrible car accident. You don't waste any more time and treat his wounds and the next day he's already conscious and aware of everything happening around him. Yours is the first face he sees once awake.

The following days you visit him in his hospital room and ask him how he's feeling, the same honest and benevolent smile on your face. You can tell that he's exaggerating most of the time and that the pain he tells you he's experiencing is not as severe as he claims. So you do the only rational thing and discharge him.

Next week, he's back with another issue and he requests you specifically. An ear infection. It wasn't your area of expertise but you took a look and recommended him a qualified doctor. He left displeased.

One week later you saw him again. A stomach ache. It wasn't bad but he wouldn't have it. "You don't get it, doctor! It hurts!" he'd say and grab your wrist, putting it on his lower stomach. He wanted a set of tests. He was even willing to pay any sum of money! You actually ran the tests and he spent one night in the hospital. You should've paid more attention to the smile he had on his face when you came with his results. He wasn't pleased seeing a green line next to every word on the file, yet he understood the situation and left. "Thank you so much, doctor!" he said with a huge smile on his face. "I was so scared! What would I do without you?"

The following week he was in the ER again. Ibuprofen overdose. "I had a headache and didn't know what to do! Help me, doctor!" A part of you was starting to see a pattern, yet your overworked mind couldn't quite put the finger on the issue at hand. You treated him like any other patient. The same friendly smile on your face, the same soft tone of voice, the same tired eyes. You were busy saving lives everyday. This was your duty and you had to do it right. "Such a big heart you have, doctor!" the same adoration in his eyes when he says this as always. "You're amazing!" and you could've sworn you saw tiny hearts forming inside his dark pupils. You should drink less caffeine, really.

After a couple of days the man doesn't come into the ER. Yet you don't even notice his absence. You were so overworked, so tired! Poor you!

One random Thursday(a thoroughly planned day) you freeze when you step into your living room. A familiar person was sitting on your couch. You knew him from somewhere, but why was it so hard for you to remember?

"Hello, doctor!" he greets. The same smile, the same excited voice. And you recognized him. "Don't tell me you don't know who I am..." he started, a bit of disappointment making its way into his facial expression.

You were standing there, unable to move. What was your patient doing inside your house? How did he know where you lived? How did he get inside? Why did he get inside? Was he dange-

"You don't look too pleased to see me, doctor..." he says, a small frown on his face. He approaches you and you instinctively take a step back. "Don't be afraid. I'd never hurt you." his words were either as honest as they could be or he was one hell of a liar. The former sounded better. "You're good and kind and gentle. I'd never hurt you" he chuckled. That makes you make another step back.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, breathlessly.

"I'm here for you, isn't that obvious?"

It was very obvious but you were hoping he'd elaborate.

"You work so hard, doctor" he starts talking in a pitiful, saddened voice. "You work overtime almost everyday. You always come back home late. You don't even have time to cook and you always order takeaway. Then you sit in front of the TV with a glass of wine in your hand, drifting off with god knows what series in the background." He chuckles. "Well, I know actually.".

He takes another step towards you and you flinch. "I wanna make you feel good, doctor" he tells you, almost whimpering. "You work so hard...it's a pity you don't have a slave at home to take care of each and every one of your needs"

Did he just say slave?

"I've been following you ever since you saved my life, doctor. I owe you!". He puts a hand over his heart, trying to show you just how much he loves you. "I know everything you do. I know you barely have a social life, or a sleep schedule or time for yourself except for the moments when you lay on your back on the bed, your glass on the bedside table and you...touch yourself." He blushed at his own words. Meanwhile, you were going through the five stages of fear. If they didn't exist until now, well now they did.

"You don't have any time to clean this place either. I know, since I try not to cough when I lay under your bed and listen to your moans every night." A huge smile spreads across his face. "God, you're amazing..." .

Your hand goes to the pocket of your coat and, as soon as he sees you, his face darkens.

"Doctor...I told you I'm not here to hurt you" His tone held some sort of threat and that made you the more afraid. Your fingers wrap around your phone and you pull it out. He grabs your wrist, stopping you. "You're not gonna do that!" he screams. "You're gonna make me yours! You're gonna do it!".

The sound of your palm making contact with his cheek echoed in the room. He bends forward a little, covering his red cheek and whining softly. He looks at you with fear in his eyes, but you needed to be blind not to see the arousal that fear created. He drops to his knees, hands on his thighs, head lowered.

"I'm sorry, doctor!" he whines. "I shouldn't have yelled at you! Please forgive me! Please! Forgive me for being such a bad boy..." .

You look at him with a shocked expression. It was crystal clear that he was living inside his own world of make-believe in which you were the master and he was the slave. It was obvious he'd wanted it ever since he first saw you. And that he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

You smirk, all the previously felt fear having already vanished. After all, everything he said was right. You were exhausted and you needed someone to serve you. You deserved it, didn't you? Weren't you that god sent person who saved this poor boy's life? Why not give him what he wants? Why not...give yourself what you want?

"You followed me home" you start, your tone as assertive as you could make it. You could see his body shiver and that only made you keep going. "You broke into my house multiple times. You stalked me!"

A soft whimper escapes the man in front of you. He tries to lift his head, to look at you with those big pleading puppy eyes of his, to show you how very sorry he felt(not in the slightest) for doing all that. But when you snap at him he lowers his head again.

"You gave yourself medical conditions so that I could treat you! What kind of sick fuck does that?"

He moaned when he heard your degrading words, lifting his head and looking you straight in the eyes, a big smile on his face.

"I'm sick, doctor. I'm very sick..."

You laughed at his wordplay. "I think you've been a bad boy. A bad sick naughty boy. You know what bad boys get?" You smirk, waiting for his answer.

"Punishment!" he yells, his eagerness immeasurable. "They get punishment. Please, doctor..."

"Please, what?"

"Please....punish me"

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

If this goes well I'll write the second part(smut ofc).

[thelikesoffinn]

„Astarion ending as the Vampire Ascendant is the correct ending for him, because it is what he wants.”

That is a claim I’ve been seeing pop up more and more often these days. And I think it’s both a very bold and a very odd claim to make.

But first things first: Hello, I’m a licensed social worker! So far, I’ve worked with children, refugees and youths with behavioural issues stemming from bullying and or abuse.

Please be aware that I will be mentioning different kinds of abuse, coping mechanisms, and victim/abuser relationships. If any of this is difficult for you, don’t force yourself through it. My jabbering about a traumatised vampire is not worth your wellbeing, not ever.

I will, however try to stick to Astarion and not use other examples. If, in any case, I do use a non-Astarion example, I’ll add a warning beforehand so that you can skip the part. And I’ll make it clear what will be discussed in the next bit, so that you have a chance to skip it entirely.

This is an effort to make this as accessible as possible for everyone that wants to indulge on a mad woman’s rambling – and I know there’s a few people that like this sort of stuff!

And, uh, there's obviously spoilers for all three acts. Serious spoilers, even.

Before I can get into the whole ‘why Astarion didn’t really want to ascend,’ we need to understand him a little more. And to understand this pretty boy’s brain, we first need to understand the gist of what we’re talking about when we throw around the word ‘abuse.’

“Abuse” is when someone is treated with cruelty, violence, or neglect – often to bad effect – on a regular basis. Repetitively. Check’s out for Astarion, I’d say, but we all knew that already. I mean, if one thing was obvious, it was this.

1. Astarions Abuse

Next we need to look at what kind of abuse Astarion faced over his long years of torment, seeing as different types of abuse will have different effects on the victim.

Not that that is anything we have to worry about with him – Astarion won the abuse lottery, to put it bluntly. In a horrible game of fate, he got everything. He himself indirectly mentions all the types of abuse he faced, albeit never using the correct terms.

The first we properly notice – fitting, seeing as it is often the most obvious form of abuse – is the physical abuse. Astarions scars are probably the biggest tell Larian could shove down our throats, only underlined by Astarion’s tale about the night itself. About how Cazador ‘misspelled something’ every time he flinched or screamed and had to do ‘many corrections. On top of this, Cazador locked Astarion up for months on end and tortured him – or had him tortured – on a regular basis both as a rite and as a punishment.

Next up, we have the fact that Astarion was forced to basically prostitute himself repeatedly. This is what we call sexual exploitation.

“I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master.” – Act 2

Two hundred years is a long time, filled with great many people. Now, we don’t know how many of those people actually tapped into the sexual exploitation and how many he could just lure back with other means, but the fact that it happened a lot is undeniable.

Next we have a form of abuse that we often disregard in adults: Neglect. It sounds odd, I know, saying that a fully grown adult was neglected. They can care for themselves, can they not?

Well. Yes and no.

Adult neglect is proceeded by the condition that one adult has to lean on another adult to fulfil their needs for whatever reason. This could be anything, from disability to income-based issues.  

Seeing as Astarion had absolutely nothing, while Cazador had everything, we can assume this was the case. Cazador had the house, the money, the power. Astarion owns but one pair of clothes, assumedly, that he has fixes over and over again. Fair to say, that’s pretty neglectful. (And it’s one more reason to shower the guy in pretty armour and camp clothes. Go ham, people.)

Last we have the form of abuse we actually get to witness later in the game – emotional abuse.

Once again, it’s undeniable that this happened. Especially since we’re all seeing it in the flesh upon meeting Cazador in his crypt.

“Have you no respect for yourself?”

“I strove for perfection in all things. Even those as imperfect as you.”

“A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts.”

“A pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything.”

All Act 3, Crypt

Here we have just a few examples of things Cazador throws in his face. It’s like reading a textbook on emotional abuse, this one (and it’s definitely a reason to throw hands).

Blaming the victim, keeping their sense of self and their self-worth as tiny as possible to make them cower and flee. A true classic.

This pretty much shows that Astarion suffered all forms of abuse we commonly see and it is implied – once again by Astarion himself – that at least a few of those instances were ritualistic.

Now, what does that mean exactly? Well, I fear I need to use a real example here, so please skip the next paragraph.

Ritualistic doesn’t refer to a proper ritual – it can, but that’s mostly a thing for those in a cult. So, we’re not necessarily talking about a ��Vampire Ascendent Ritual’. A husband, beating his wife every evening after his third bottle of beer is also called ritual abuse. It happens regularly. It is part of a routine. Both parties know what will happen.

I can’t find the exact quote, so I’m working of my memory here, but at one point he said that when Cazador invited him to eat and he said yes, he would be served a putrid rat. If he said no, he’d be beaten.

The way it was phrased made it clear that it happened more than once and that Astarion clearly knew what would happen. So, this can be classified as ritualistic abuse.

2. A Note on Conditioning and Compliance

By default, abuse victims are conditioned to behave a certain way or in a certain fashion. This is a natural response to avoid further abuse.

In Astarion, the thing we see most often is his inherent need to please. Not literally, he doesn’t mind being an arsehole. But he initially feels the need to follow Tav’s orders, even if they go against his own wishes.

This can be clearly seen in the conversation with Araj Oblodra. Astarion very clearly doesn’t want to bite her. He doesn’t. But he will do so, if Tav tells him to. This behaviour is not conscious – he doesn’t know why he does it, he just does – and it is to be expected. This is how he kept himself save for two centuries, so of course he will fall back into his usual pattern when the pressure is high.

This goes hand in hand with the fact that most abuse victims don’t fight. Maybe initially, but not after long term abuse. Especially not after two fucking centuries.

This is true in Astarion – offered by his ‘siblings’ during act 3 and unhappily acquiesced by the man himself. Astarion stopped fighting and, once again implied, cowered, and did as he was told in order to survive.

3. The Astarion we know and love

Obviously, all that abuse does have an impact on our vampire boyfriend. He shows various common signs of abuse and just like with the forms of abuse, Astarion raked every coping mechanism he could find. (Not really, but it feels like it.) It’s also important to note that nearly all of the following things happen inwardly. Astarion is not one of the victims, that tries to rationalise and minimise the actions of his abuser. Quite the opposite, actually.

I’ll note from the beginning, that rationalisation will not be covered in this bit, as most examples will be important later on. But he definitely does it.

One of his biggest skills is to hide every ounce of fear or hurt behind sarcasm and snarky theatrics. He doesn’t seem to hide his anger much, though, so that’s something! Our boy is cool with anger, not so much with being afraid.

“Ahahaha, now that you mention it….I might have done…that.” – Act 3, regarding the Gur children

“The thing that will decide my fate forever more? Yeees, it’s been on my miiiind. Why?” – Act 2, regarding the Ritual

And there’s many more instances that prove this. Honestly, half his dialogue is sarcasm, so it would really be too long to get into and we all know what I mean, right? We have alltalked to the guy before. It’s obvious that he’s sarcastic to a fault.

This goes hand in hand with his penchant for defensiveness. I would personally state that he’s simply not really good with guilt. When talking about fear, he usually just opts for sarcasm or avoids the topic completely, but guilt especially has his defences going up. This is also when he’s most likely to shove all the blame off to Cazador.

“Don’t look at me like that. Cazadors orders.” – Act 3, Crypt

“I just did what I had to!” – Act 3, Crypt

And don’t get me wrong, he does that anyway. And with good reason. Astarion didn’t have a choice for the most part, but he’s still easy to shove things off.

This kind of connects to his penchant for denial.

Astarion doesn’t really like to talk about most things. He firmly believes he is an ‘action’ sort of person that just does instead of plans, which invertedly just means he’s great at pushing the thinking stuff away. He also likes to get rid of stuff, so that he doesn’t need to face it ever again.

“I never want to see these little scraps of misery again. The world doesn’t need to know my shame.” – Act 3, about the children

And yes, this partly rings true. He’s probably ashamed and doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s done. But it’s also very clear that he himself simply doesn’t want to face his own actions, something that is just  underlined by his extreme willingness to red rid of the other spawn.

As mentioned by Astarion himself, he’s big on manipulation. I mean, I don’t think there is much explaining necessary. The guy is willing to do a whole lot in order to get what he desires – which mostly revolves around safety and survival, to be honest – and he’s not really shy about it either. And that’s despite the fact that he doesn’t really like intimacy – especially in form of sex.

It’s not a secret that Astarion is not big on sex and anything surrounding it. This goes far enough for people to consider him either ace or ace coded.

A claim that, personally, I’m not super in line with.

Now, it’s not entirely wrong and if this is your head cannon I’m surely not going to stand in your way – but on a larger spectrum, I think he’s more traumatised than ace. And while those go hand in hand sometimes, it’s a bit difficult for the ace community if you attach traumatised characters to them because it can fuel a whole lot of stigma that is honestly neither needed nor wanted. But I digress!

If it comes to his own behaviour, he’s great at minimising his mistakes. Honestly, he’s a master of minimisation. A very obvious and famous example would be:

“’Killed’ feels like a…strong word. Not many corpses have your vigour.” – Act 1, after killing Tav

Astarion. You literally sucked poor Tav dry and left them flopping around, cold, and dead. Killed is exactly the right word and we all know it.

“Quite the deviation from my usual routine. Capture, not lure. I didn’t bring them in with sweet rolls or anything.” – Act 3, Gur Children

This is another attempt at minimising what he did, if a bit less obvious because at this point there isn’t much he can say. But at least he didn’t sexualise the gur children, right? They’re still spawn but whoo, at least that didn’t happen.  

The next point would be dissociation, which is extremely common in abuse victims – of all forms of abuse.

Astarion himself mentioned certain moments that could be classified as dissociation over course of the story, which is probably the coping mechanism I personally expected the most.

The pale elf has a penchant for violence, but he’s not entirely shameless or abhorrently vile, which gets clearer the more the story progresses. So, two hundred years of forced prostitution, torture and doing whatever other horrible things? Yeah, I’d be more surprised if he didn’t dissociate.

Examples of that would be:

“A moment of disgust to push myself through and then I could’ve carried on, just like before.” – Act 2, after Araj

“I felt nothing the moment I handed them over.” – Act 3, Gur Children

“Did you enjoy it? It felt like you weren’t fully there.” – Act 1, Tav after Sex

The latter is generally more of an assumption than actual prove, but with context it does make sense.

The last common sign of abuse we find in our boyfriend would be his low self-worth. It’s a consistent trait that stays over the course of all three acts, noticeable in many different conversations.

We can see it in his reaction to wanting to break up before finishing his story. We can see it in his genuine surprise when Tav picks him over any of the other characters. We see it in his insecurity whenever Tav asks to sleep with another character. He’s fine with it, but he still worries their decision to sleep with someone else is based on something he did.

It eases up ever so slightly after Cazador is dead, but even then he’s still struggling which is once again perfectly illustrated if you try to break up with him.

“Oh shit. I- Did I do something wrong?”

That is the first thing he asks and I think it speaks for itself. He genuinely doesn’t believe he has much to offer and for Astarion, it’s likely that Astarion will always be the problem.

4. "Oh, I tried them all none of them answered.”

Another big thing that’s important to note, is that Astarion was never saved. No one came to save him from Cazador. There was no darling boy on a white steed riding into that castle to rescue him and princess carry him away. Not even the gods answered his desperate calls.

So, he never received any kindness or luck. To him, the world seems as cruel and horrid as before because he didn’t have the chance to experience goodness in two centuries.

But worse than that, he didn’t even get to save himself. Astarion didn’t stand up to Cazador, he didn’t run out of his own might.

He was beaten to near death and ‘saved’ by Cazador, who would become his abuser.

He tried to save someone and, in turn, was locked up and starved for an entire year.

He was abducted by mind flayers, i.e., saved from Cazador, only to end up tadpoled and on the cusp of getting a fancy, squiddy beard.

Anything that’s good, any kindness, any selfless action…it all came with a ginormous price tag.

5. Over the Course of the Story

Astarions behaviour changes a whole lot over the course of three acts – which is important once we talk about his quests climax – so let’s review what we’re working with!

Act 1 Astarion is guarded as fuck. The man has walls around him that are so high, even the gods can touch them.

A lot of his behaviour in act 1 revolves around staying save and staying liked. He lies, manipulates, and flutters his lashes in order to get what he wants and needs. Instead of asking, like Wyll, Karlach and Gale do, Astarion uses all he has to offer to get by. He is still very much in survival mode and tries to weasel his way through an unfamiliar situation with familiar methods.

On top of that, and most notably, he’s absolutely not fond of kindness or selflessness.

#I saved a child and now my boyfriend is mad

Here, we are most likely to gain disapproval for doing the decent thing – unless you sent him outside for a minute whenever you’re being a good person.

And I’d assume that this is because of two things.

First: The very traditional ‘Why not me?’

As I mentioned before, Astarion wasn’t saved. He hasn’t experienced kindness in a very long time so seeing that the world is literally filled with kind people is hurtful. Why didn’t anyone save him? Why was he left to his own devices for so long? Why should he care about others when it’s so clear that no one ever cared about him? No, dead to all of them. If he didn’t get it, neither will they.

“And what am I owed? What about the injustices I suffered? Am I not entitled to anything?” – Act 3, Crypt

“I was in the prime of my life when I was turned. Everything was taken from me too.” – Act 3, Crypt

And secondly is the fact that, as I mentioned, goodness always has a price. And it’s one most people won’t be willing to pay. That’s how his life has been, so why would theirs be different?

This is precisely why Astarion may disapprove of kind actions, but he mostly neither approves nor disapproves if Tav asks for payment. That’s just how the world works.

Once you venture out into act 2, after getting to know him a whole lot more, he starts to mellow a bit – if only towards Tav.

“He’s afraid, so afraid, of everyone but you, who she should fear the most.” – Sceleritas about Astarion

His approval is a lot easier to gain – or at least keep! – and he tends to approve of some more proper actions. He doesn’t throw a fit if you promise to find Mol, he approves of Tav being kind to His Majesty, of saving Aylin and he even approves of Durge apologising to Isobel after threatening to rip her to pieces.

He's slowly starting to open up, allowing Tav to see some parts of him he previously kept hidden. He accepts their offer to help, if hesitantly and, by god, the man starts experimenting with boundaries.

The social worker in me is shedding tears at this. It’s my favourite thing to see in my clients and it’s no different here. Yay to saying no!

Of course, it’s still a bit hit or miss. If Tav urges him to bite Araj, for example, he will only to later notice that he didn’t fucking have to. He recognises this on his own and he calls Tav out on it. Just like he calls them out on not helping him with his Orthon quest.

Good job, chap. Good fucking job.

And the growth-train won’t stop going even as we reach act 3.

In act 3, there’s not many things he disapproves as of right now – those he does, mostly have to do with how Tav treats him and not with anyone else. In fact, he’s more likely to approve good behaviour now, like giving Yenna food or money.

And yes, we need to consider that this could simply be because he gets used to Tav’s behaviour and just learns to roll with it. But it’s also highly likely that he notices that there’s truly good people around. At least one person. And that person is not only good, no, they’re in the process of helping him break free once and for all.

They’re helping him save himself.

By act 3, he has learned that he can absolutely say his piece where Tav is concerned and he’s more likely to disagree with them on certain things. It’s seen during a lot of small dialogue that he’s no longer terribly afraid to be honest with them, willing to listen and talk and he’ll ask for help if he needs it.

“I can do this. But I need your help.” – Act 3, Crypt

Something that can be viewed both positively and negatively is that he’s definitely loyal to a fault. He will stick by Tav’s side, no matter what.

“I really hoped we could avoid being pawns for a dark god, but here we are, I suppose. I’m with you, my dear, wherever this might lead.” – Act 3, After Jaheira confronts durge

As I said, this can be both positive and negative. On one count, it’s a recipe for disaster, seeing as he could be waltzing into a really bad situation for Tav alone.

But on the other side…this is a man who only cared about himself because that is the only person he could afford to care about. He needed to survive. He now has enough room to breathe and the capacity to care for someone else and I’d be inclined to count that as a good thing.

6. The Crypt

All the progress he made in act 2 and 3 is nearly tossed into the wind as soon as the crew enters Cazadors castle.

It’s not an immediate thing, of course.

At first, Astarion tries to stay light and simple and he hides behind flippant tones and relaxed faces. The way he recounts this is almost comically disinterested and the façade is actually quite good.

It’s start’s cracking after we meet Godie, one of the people who tortured him on more than one account, but he mostly manages to remain as upbeat as one can honestly expect for the first half of the journey.

All that, however, is done for the very moment we meet Sebastian. His mask not only slips, no, it full on shatters and there’s none of his apparent lightness left.

Which, of course it does.

The man is suddenly faced with years and years and years of victims. Innocent, unlucky people he lured back to his master over two centuries. People he liked, people he pitied.

“It’s sickening, seeing them again.”

It’s basically a room filled with guilt, exclusively for Astarion. And, as we mentioned before…Astarion is not great with guilt.

The guilt, however, is not where it ends.

No, he’s also faced with reflections of his own past. The spawn pose as reminders of what he did, sure, but also as reminders of what he was.

Weak, desperate, hungry.

There’s an abundance of images of his worst moments, reflected back at him in the thousands. It’s probably like staring into a funhouse mirror, but instead of seeing yourself in a funky way he just sees everything he so desperately doesn’t want to be.

“It should be [who I am]! I don’t want to be like them. They’re pathetic, horrible…”

He’s forcefully made aware of how darn weak he can be, which claws at all the wounds he’s barely had time to close. Something, he of course won’t admit if asked.

“THEY DO NOT [remind me of myself]. That weakness in me is dead, IT’S DEAD. I have a higher purpose.”

The high pressure of the moment brings out all of his act 1 traits in but a few moments. You can pretty much watch how he starts to shut down mid conversation, one of his old walls snapping back into place to remove himself from the situation.

Thing is though, walls usually become a bit brittle after disuse. Especially when talking to a person you don’t usually want to wall out.

Or, in his case, when talking to Tav.

After meeting Sebastian, Astarion shows extreme reactions to Tav nudging any of his weak spots. His reaction varies on whatever choice you make, but it ranges from aggression to defensiveness, to denial and even to downright begging Tav.

“Don’t hate me. I just did what I had to. I swear I did what I had to.”

This probably the most shocking out of all of them, since that is not something we got to witness before. The begging is likely a mixture of intense fear of losing Tav, his low self-esteem and pre-Tav behaviour, since we can assume that Cazador made him beg more than once.

Another old coat he puts back on would also be the least surprising of them all.

Manipulation.

He falls right back into it, using Tav’s affection to get what he want if we trigger the right action.

“If they die and I ascend, I won't have to rely on the parasite to walk in the sun. I'll be free. Truly completely free. Isn't that what you want?”

This, to me, was probably the biggest tell that Astarion was back in survival mode. He’s panicking, for fucks sake, and who can blame the guy? He’s back. He’s about to face down his abuser.

Of course he’s fucking panicking.

Panic leads to an increased craving for safety and, in his case, power. This is why he clings to Tav, why he begs them to love him still. And this is why he jumps head first into the rationalisation pool.

“I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform the ritual. - [You can save them.] – What’s the point? They're as good as dead! I thought they were dead. If they are unleashed, they will cause incredible carnage. […] They must die. Better they serve a purpose.”

Another textbook example.

They must die anyway. They’re basically dead. No need to save them now. They’re dangerous, I’m doing the right thing by sacrificing them. I already thought they were dead, so it’s not changing anything for me. They’re a lost cause and I deserve  all this power. I deserve it, because I suffered and nothing will change if they die.

So, seeing as we already spoke about his usual behaviour in act 3 – behaviour he showed after we allowed him to breathe and be himself for a while – I think we can fairly easily conclude he’s not thinking straight.

Astarion is right back in survival mode, where all that matters is he himself. If it weren’t for the seven thousand spawns, he might have moved through this more gracefully, but seeing those tipped the scales and Astarion is absolutely losing it.

Remember that for the last section, per favore.

7. The Ascension

“Astarion wants to ascend and Tav manipulates him into doing what they want.”

That is basically the essence of what people often claim and I can’t help but shake my head at such a blatant disregard of everything he has become. This is completely ignoring the change and growth he has gone through over the course of their journey.

Astarion wants to be free. He wants to be safe. That does not mean he wants to ascend.

And the claim that Tav manipulates him into doing anything is even more baffling. We are all aware that Tav is not manipulative by nature, yes? That is entirely on you. You decide who your Tav is.

And then let’s remember: Astarion is panicked. He’s afraid and he’s not thinking straight. His abuser is on his knees before him and he still feels so weak. And there’s seven thousand spawns that need handling.

Astarion is very much not okay right now.

In fact, reading his thoughts just proves this theory.

“You can see the fear in his eyes but also the hunger. The thick smell of blood in the air and the promise of power being so close is intoxicating to him. All he can see is the power of the ritual and the freedom that power brings. The freedom to do anything. To be anything.”

Tav, however, has none of those problems. They can actually see beyond the current situation and they are fully aware what the consequences are. Astarion is not. As we previously established, Astarion is a doer. Not a thinker. He didn’t think this through, not at all.

The only thing Tav is doing – the persuasion roll – is reminding him of the very real consequences he is facing. The consequences he hasn’t thought about before.

"I know you think this will set you free, but it won't. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador."

And that is the kindest thing Tav could do in this situation. They’re not bodily dragging him away from Cazador. They’re not even telling him to not do it. They’re just offering him the truth. He can do with that information whatever he desires.

“Astarion cries when he doesn’t ascend, that just shows that it was the wrong choice.”

A hare-brained point that I thankfully have only seen once so far.

That crying? That is healthy crying.

That is him, crumbling under the stress that suddenly dissipates. That is him mourning two hundred years of torment. That’s him letting out feelings he hasn’t been able to for centuries.

And, for the love of god, try to put yourself in his shoes.

Two hundred years of torment, ended in but a moment.

Astarion was abused and tortured for so long, afraid for so long only to see his tormentor die just like that.

Cazador died within a moment and all Astarion needed was a darn blade. Of course he fucking cries.

Seeing how pathetic a being the very core of your life’s misery actually is hurts. It hurts like hell because not only are you finally free – free! – no, you’re faced with the fact that this pile of nothing, the thing that’s bleeding out right in front of you…this was what tortured for so long.

This thing hurt you so much. That guy took everything from you, everything you once were, and broke it again and again and again over years.

You were so scared of this thing.

And yet he has the gall and the gumption to die just like that.

It was so easy.

And yet you suffered for so long.

8. Evil Playthrough?

An evil playthrough is really a different setting altogether.

All of this, as you can probably tell, is really only applicable on a good playthrough. Realistically speaking. I’m not sure how the game mechanics handle it.

On an evil path, Astarion never really gets to experience kindness and goodness. Evil Tav will just prove him right in his believe that the world is a vile and cold place, meaning that he realistically would be more inclined to actually want to ascend.

9. Final Conclusion

I think all of this should be enough to make it clear that no, ascended Astarion is not the best ending for the guy. In fact, it is probably the worst. Because it’s just him, running away. He’s running into a lonely and cold state of being, where cruelty and power lord over everything else and he’s running because he’s terrified of being hurt again. He’s running despite desperately wanting to stop running.

“I'll spend the rest of my life running watching the shadows, never feeling safe…no, this has to happen. Here and now.”

And, the worst part is: Nothing about Astarion is left after he ascends. Even his tone of speaking gradually changes, his theatrics fading. He’s slowly losing himself, until there’s nothing but an evil caricature left.

So, in the end, ascension will have proven him right.

That version of him is dead.

[obsesssedblerd]

"Who's your new teacher?" Part 4

Synopsis: You run into Toji at the store, who had plans to buy the exact same gift for Megumi. 

Pairing: single dad! toji x f! reader

Contains: So much fluff, both reader and toji are obviously crushing on each other, megumi is four, tsumiki is seven, reader is a preschool teacher, reader and toji are around the same age, megumi and tsumiki being absolutely adorable, shiu kong is toji’s friend, everyone is happy bc i said so 

part one, part two, part three 

a/n: and here's part four! barely proofread. sorry for mistakes!

— — — — — 

Every time you see him, your heart flutters stupidly in your chest, and you feel as if you’re glowing from within. Without even knowing, your mouth curves upward until you’re grinning excitedly. Toji Fushiguro is also smiling, his dark eyes as soft as ever. 

“Hi, Toji.”

“Hey, doll.” 

“Helloooooo?!” Shiu practically screams from over the phone, and Toji rolls his eyes as he asks, “did you find the damn toy?!” 

“Even better,” Toji says. “I’ll call you back.” 

Once he hangs up the phone, Toji steps closer to you, pointing towards the toy you’re clutching tightly in your hands. “Were you… Were you planning to buy that for Megs?” 

“Yeah.” You nod, suddenly timid. “Um, was that a problem? I hope I’m not crossing any lines or anything like that. It’s just- he looked so scared for his appointment, and once I saw that this dropped in, I knew it would be—” 

“I’m not upset. No, it’s just…” Toji trails off, and you raise a brow at the shocked expression on his face. “That toy is expensive.” 

“It’s for Gumi,” you say, smiling fondly when you think about the shy, spiky-haired boy in your class who loves dogs, coloring pictures of flowers and telling you stories about his family. “He’s worth it.” 

When Toji smiles again, it’s warm, full of gratitude, and so lovely that you feel your heart stutter in your chest again. “Thank you, that’s so sweet. He’ll love it,” he says, and then places his hand on your shoulder. “However, I can’t let you buy that. It’s too much money.” 

“No, please. Let me. I can cover it.” 

“Let me cover it,” he says. “You can still be the one to gift it to him, but please just let me buy it. I know from Shiu that teachers usually have to buy so much on their own.” 

It was true. Crayons, markers, pencils, class decorations, picture books and anything else to make your students happy usually fell on your shoulders. Then, there was rent, groceries, and other expensive bills that kept you up at night sometimes. However, your stress temporarily fades away when you spend time with the children at the pre-school you work at, especially Megumi Fushiguro. Even better during those afternoons when you talk with Toji. 

“Alright, fine,” you say, and you hold up a single finger. “One condition: You at least let me buy Tsumiki’s doll.” 

He raises a brow. “Which doll?” 

Since you both are in the aisle that stores toys for young girls, you’re able to point to the one you had your eye on. The smiling doll was a soccer player, her dark hair styled in a high ponytail—the same way Tsumiki usually styles her hair. The doll wore a jersey, cleats, and shin guards, and the set also came with a miniature soccer ball, water bottle and sports headband for the doll. “I was going to give this one to her after her soccer match.” 

You look back at Toji to see him staring at you in disbelief, and before you can ask him why, he tells you, “I seriously can’t believe that we both ended up at the same store getting ready to buy the same two toys.” 

“Wow, really?” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles as he grabs the doll for Tsumiki off of the shelf, then starts walking with you towards the front of the store to check out. “I had it in mind at Megumi’s appointment.” 

“How was that, by the way?” You ask. 

Toji pulls out his phone and scrolls for a few seconds before showing you a picture. Megumi and Tsumiki were standing outside of the doctor’s office with matching stickers on their t-shirts, happily enjoying their candy. “He did great. His sister held his hand to keep him calm throughout the checkout, and it worked. Proud of her for keeping it together, too. She only had to call one person a ‘stupid head’ today because he told him that boys shouldn’t cry.” 

You snicker, “Oh, my gosh, ‘stupid head’?? Cute picture, also. They’re so precious.” 

“Mhm,” He looks down, shaking his head with a bashful smile. “She actually means dumbass.” 

“Oh, does she, now? I assume there’s a story behind that?” 

He hums, taking a few seconds to think before beginning to explain. “Couple years ago. She was five. Megumi was just about to turn two. I was driving them to the store, and this guy cut me off. I shouted, ‘watch where you’re going, dumbass’ and she repeated after me.” When you make eye contact with each other, you both laugh. “Shiu nearly pissed himself,” he says, “I was laughing so hard that I had to pull over. Finally, we explained to her that dumbass is a bad word, and that she had to say something different. So, she settled on ‘stupid head.” It’s so simple, but it nearly kills Shiu and I because we know what she actually wants to say.” 

“That’s incredible,” you say, standing with him in the checkout line. “And I’m happy she called that guy out at the appointment today. She’s so protective of her little brother. I love it.” 

You’re about to put the plushie onto the conveyor belt, but Toji gently grabs it from you, placing both it and the doll on there. You look at him. “Toji, I—” 

“I meant it earlier when I said that I can’t let you buy this because of how pricey it is. Since you got here first and spent so much time looking for the dog plushie, you’re still going to be the one to give both of these to them,” he says softly. “But just knowing that you were willing to spend this much money for Megs and Tsumiki when you one hundred percent didn’t have to mean so damn much to me. Thank you. Not just for being an amazing teacher, but also for being a wonderful human being.” 

Oh, he’s so sweet. 

There’s so much you want to say, but you know that you can’t say too much—at least, not yet. So you go for the first and most important. “You’re an incredible father. They love you so much.” 

He smiles and nods his thanks, then pays for the two items before handing you the bag. As you two leave the store, he offers to walk you to your car, and you accept. “You’re right,” you mutter to him. “Teachers don’t make a lot, but we always make do with what we have. One day, I’ll have the classroom of my dreams.” You declare, suddenly determined. “It’s what the kids deserve. Also, I want you to know that even if I was struggling a little bit after buying those toys, I would’ve never regretted buying them for Megumi and Tsumiki. They’re such good kids.” 

“I know,” Toji says. “Not once did I think that you’d regret it. You’ve only ever been sweet to them.” When he sees that it’s beginning to get dark, he gently taps your car. “You should get home and get some rest. I can tell that you’ve been trying to hunt that dog plushie down for a while. Also,” he stops and exhales, and you wonder what he’s thinking. A light shade of pink dusts his cheeks, and it reminds you of him in Megumi’s drawing. 

“I want to see you more,” he finally tells you. “Outside of work, I mean. I was thinking that maybe we can grab dinner some time?” 

“Yes.” It’s impossible to hide your smile. How could you? “I’d love to.” 

He carefully grasps your hand, then brings it to his mouth, placing a light kiss on the back of it. It’s a sweet gesture, but you feel like you’re about to catch fire and then melt into the ground. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he purrs. “And I’ll text you plans about the date.” 

Date. Date. 

“Okay,” you manage to reply when you find your voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well!” You get into your car, wave him off once more, then drive off, unable to control your excitement. 

— 

As Toji watches your car leave the store’s parking lot, he’s already calling Shiu, a new idea beginning to take shape in his mind. 

“Are you done flirting?” Shiu answers with a huff. “The kids were wondering where you went.” 

“Sorry about that. I’m on my way now. Quick question though: That job that took me less than an hour to complete. What was the payout for that one again?” 

“Eight thousand, why?” 

Perfect. “Put half of it aside.” 

— — — — — 

“What’s this?” Megumi asks when you place the wrapped gift box in front of him, looking up at you and Toji with large, curious eyes. 

The three of you are in your classroom a little earlier than usual, since you wanted to give Megumi his present before the other students arrived. Toji didn’t mind since he also wanted to see his reaction.

“A present that Ms. [Y/L/N] got you,” Toji answers as he pats his head. “Go ahead and open it.” 

Like with everything else, Megumi takes his time opening the gift; delicately undoing the knot in the bow and wrapping the gift paper starting from the edges. When he sees the new plushie, the kid gasps, then screams in joy. 

“No way!” He holds up his usual black dog plushie next to the new white one, tears of happiness rising to his eyes. “Now they’re together!” He gently puts the toy down, then runs into your arms, squeezing you as tight as he can. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!!” 

“Aw, of course, sweetheart!” You laugh as you hug him in return. “I’m so proud of you for getting through your appointment. You did such a good job.” 

As you praise him, Toji notes that Megumi still hasn’t released you yet. It was the longest he’s ever seen him hug anyone that wasn’t him or Tsumiki. His previous preschool teacher told him in the past that Megumi was too closed off, and that his refusal to talk to anyone would cause so many issues in the future. At first, Toji was worried, but now that he has seen how he is with you, even after such a short amount of time, he just knew that it was because Megumi didn’t trust his other teacher. 

But he really, really trusted you. Loved you, even.

-----------

plenty of tags! as always, if you would like to be tagged, let me know in the replies! this includes those that have been previously tagged as well!

@blubearxy

@oleaffea

@layuhsblog

@estelaig

@jjknanamin

@maryhyun254

@queendessi24

@eternallyvenus

@niniquote

@leonseyeliner

@pluhhbabyy

@spltbtch

@trashsuarecan

@levixbby

@hqtoge

@erenjaegerswifee

@superduperbarbie3

@chosoyukisgf

@esmedelacroix

@poopooindamouf

@lushjunkie

@emoedgylord

@veyveys

@meqoww

@excedr

@dannyhub

[sayruq]

Hi world, it’s Eman Please read this as if I’m a member of your family, may be your sister , daughter or a friend and as if my family who’s under death now is yours.Today, I reach out with a heavy heart and a place for your kindness and support . I am not just seeking to fundraise. I am seeking to save the lives of my beloved family members who are currently trapped in a nightmare. All of whom depend on your generosity to escape Gaza Strip to Egypt , get the medical help needed and begin a new life where we are seeking safety. This is me Eman

My name is Eman , a girl in her thirties (39- years old) and a computer science graduate .Iam speaking from the heart of Gaza, a place that was once vibrant with life and has now become painfully marked by the effects of wars that spared no war. I live with my mother, Etemad (60 years old ) and my father, Saed (70 years old . My mother and my father

My sister Khaleda is ( 41 years old ) She has four children. Three sons .Saed ,3 years old. Abdul Rahman, 5 years old ,and Adam, 9 years old .Her daughter, Lyan, is (4 years old) .

Khaleda's Children

Iam suffering of one of the most common generic disorders which is thalassaemia. It’s so tiring and difficult disease. And due to the war, I lack medical care and treatments. My health is getting worse and deteriorating as treatment became insufficient. Iam in need to plasma exchange regularly ,the thing that my family find so difficult because of blockage and destruction of hospitals , in addition to the risks of going out our shelters every day as the bombs everywhere . My family deserve the opportunity to live a full life. I can’t bear the thought of losing any member of them.

My father, Saed, is suffering from heart disease .He has blockage of the heart arteries . Doctors advised him not to expose himself to the news and events that affect his mental and physical health. He urgently needs to undergo the necessary tests and surgery.

My mother, Etemad, has chronic diseases (blood pressure and diabetes ) . She needs regular follow up and medical treatment .She is struggling to obtain the necessary medications , waiting too long in clinics for subpar alternatives if found.

My family and I were very close knit enjoying simple pleasure and cherishing moment together. Now all that remains are memories scattered among the rubble of our destroyed home in Gaza. We witnessed death with our own eyes and were forced to flee our home in fear of our lives .During this time , we also received the news of the deaths of several relatives and friends due to indiscriminate bombardments. Now, I find Myself with my family displaced in a plastic tent in Al-Zawaydah , our last refuge, living inhuman conditions and enduring unimaginable hardships along the way.

We’re currently sleeping on the ground in a tent that does not protect us from the heat of summer or the cold of winter . We are located there ,with no access to essential items like clean drinking water , electricity , healthy food and cooking gas .Death and destruction followed us everywhere , Our home was bombed and bulldozed and our hopes and dreams were shattered along with it .We are enduring a suffering that is beyond anything you can imagine. Me with my family are in a very critical situation in tents .Tasks are divided among us to sustain ourselves. My father fetches water if ever found from a distant area early every morning. My mother cooks and washes our clothes using traditional methods .This is why we are asking for your help, as we are still in danger in South Gaza and can’t receive the medical care needed. Our new life in tents

Since the beginning of Israel’s assault on Gaza, we were forced to evacuate several times leaving behind our home and the future we had been working towards. Walking without carrying our personal belongings, our clothes or even money in search of a safe place until we managed to escape to the south of Gaza Strip .

Gaza, a place that I call home has been transformed into a landscape of destructions and despair . The reality we live in is one of the constant fear, where the sounds of explosions drown out the dreams and aspirations of its people .In what seems like an instant , everything my family and I held there had been ripped away by the chaos of war . A side of our suffering in tents

This campaign is not just about escaping Gaza. It’s about reclaiming a future where my family can live without the shadow of fear , where we can get the medical care and treatment needed and where we can once again embrace the joys of life without grief . The price of leaving Gaza is high and far beyond my family means. so I have initiated this fundraising campaign to urgently gather funds to help my family leave Gaza as soon as possible. The funds collected will be carefully allocated for the following purposes: Firstly , it will contribute to providing a safe passage to Egypt , which is a vital step for the family’s safety. Secondly: covering the medical treatment. Costs and medications for me , my father and my mother . In addition to the need for comprehensive examinations in Egypt to ensure our safety after the war. Thirdly : the funds will be allocated to provide temporary accommodation for the family in Egypt, giving them stability and the opportunity to explore the best path for their future . Finally , it will cover initial living expenses in Egypt granting the family the time and space needed to relax and rebuild their lives after the ordeal of the genocide in Gaza .

Eman's family has only raised $610 USD out of $50,000 goal. Please support the family by sharing. Donate if you can

[emma-needs-attention]

I don’t shave every day. It’s not that I don’t “need” to; I have very dark, dense facial hair that grows quickly and remains pretty visible after shaving. When I do shave, I don’t try to cover it with makeup (beyond some powder to reduce redness). In most other ways I present very feminine, but I always have fairly obvious facial hair.

And it makes me feel terrible.

I started electrolysis a couple months ago. It’s excruciatingly painful, expensive, and it takes forever. In an hour-long session, my electrologist is able to remove hair in only a small region (about 1 square inch). A few weeks later, much of that hair comes back. I am told that it will take two to three years of regular treatments to remove it entirely. On top of that, I apparently have a condition called Post Inflammatory Hyperpigmentation, which causes the skin in affected areas to darken after treatment. For nearly two months after completing a single pass over my upper lip, my mustache was more visible than it had ever been, despite having significantly less hair.

And it made me feel terrible.

I know this is the best way for me to permanently remove my facial hair, but I just canceled all of my upcoming sessions and at the moment I have no plans to begin again.

If I could pay to have my facial hair instantly and completely removed I would empty my savings account. I am intensely aware of it any time I go out in public. If it makes me so uncomfortable, why do I not do more to hide it?

I feel incredibly privileged for a trans woman. I have a loving, supportive family. I have a well-paying job. I live in a very accepting area. I have never had a single person say anything negative to me about my gender identity, which was certainly not what I was expecting when I came out. It is important to me that I be visibly queer, and in my privileged position I am able to do that without fear. A year ago I didn’t think I would ever transition; now I want people to know that I’m trans.

I am disappointed with myself for wanting to remove my facial hair, for changing my voice. I am determined not to have to do more work than a cis person does. Cis women don’t have to shave their face every day. Cis men don’t have to shave their face every day. Why should I? This is who I am, what my body does. Shouldn’t I be proud of that? Am I not supposed to love myself the way I am?

But by that logic, why am I even transitioning in the first place?

I am doing more work than a cis person does. Cis people don’t transition, and transitioning takes effort. I know that there are cis people, both men and women, who do shave every day. Am I lying to myself? I’m a trans woman; aren’t I supposed to want to get rid of my facial hair? Shouldn’t I be trying harder? Doesn’t this give me dysphoria? Am I pretending not to have dysphoria so I don’t have to put in the effort? Does the fact that I’m not trying harder make me… I don’t know, less trans? Non-binary? Is it ok for me to call myself a trans woman? Am I lying to myself?

As a woman who was a man until thirty, there are things about my body that I must accept, that I won’t be able to change no matter how much money I dump into my transition. I’m tall, I have broad shoulders, I have large hands. No amount of surgery or hormones will change these things.

But there are many things that I can change, and while none of them are requirements for being a woman, they may still be changes that I want to make. Where do I stop? Am I finished transitioning when I’ve done everything that is physically possible? My goal isn’t to “pass,” at least not in the way that word is generally used. In a time when cis women are being assaulted because people think they’re trans��because they don’t “pass” as women—the idea of what it means to pass becomes blurry. Often when we say that we want to pass, what we really mean is that we want to be conventionally beautiful.

I am a woman. Therefore, I look like a woman. My transition goal is to pass as myself. I’ve spent the last year trying to figure out who I am so I can look like her. I don’t care whether people see me and think “that’s a woman.” I want to be able to look in the mirror and think “that’s me.” But it can be extremely difficult to separate your own image of yourself from society’s idea of what you should look like. Am I self-conscious about the size of my body because it doesn’t feel like me, or because I’ve been told that women should be smaller? There are tall cis women, there are broad-shouldered cis women, there are cis women with large hands. Those traits don’t make them less womanly.

For the aspects of my body that I do have control over, I am stuck wondering whether I am changing things to become myself, or changing them because I have internalized that the way I am is wrong. At the moment, facial feminization surgery is something that I think I might like to do. But how do I know that I want to do it for the right reasons? I don’t hate my face, but when I catch a glimpse of myself from certain angles I can’t help but think that it isn’t feminine enough. What I should be asking is if it’s Emma enough, but how can I know that? How do I know who I’m supposed to be?

I feel like I was supposed to be a cis woman, but… why? Who am I to say that I wasn’t supposed to be trans? That I wasn’t supposed to transition at thirty, to have both a male puberty and a female one? Being trans has made me more self-aware, more open-minded, more empathetic. The totality of my experience is what makes me who I am. Maybe there’s a world in which I was assigned female, maybe there’s a world in which I was put on puberty blockers as a kid. But the girl in those worlds isn’t me.

Loving yourself and wanting to change are two feelings that can coexist. I tend to think of body positivity as simply accepting yourself as you are, but it is more nuanced than that. As a trans person, who I am inside is not the same as who I am outside. Which one am I supposed to love? I do love myself, but I also love who I could be. I’m transitioning so that someday they’ll be the same person.

Over the past year I have become both my biggest supporter and my biggest critic. I constantly tell myself how pretty I am, how brave I am, how fucking cool I am (hey, nobody else is saying it and it’s true). This forced positivity has been fantastic for me. I can confidently say that I truly love myself for the first time in my life. But I sometimes feel guilty that I don’t love myself more.

I can’t help but stare at myself in the mirror all the time now. I actually bought a new mirror so I didn’t have to walk as far to do so. I’ve taken more selfies than I did in my entire pre-transition life. After many months on HRT, I finally see myself in my reflection. But my eyes refuse to focus on my stubble. Sometimes I catch myself thinking “I’m going be so beautiful once I get rid of this facial hair,” and it feels like a betrayal. Fuck you Emma, I’m already gorgeous.

[luvwestwood]

"Working Overtime" - Toji Fushiguro

4,469 words.

warnings. nsfw (18+), toji is your boss, escort reader, thigh riding, p in v, spitting, toji rails you on a balcony, exhibitionism?, toji fucks you on a pile of money, mention of size difference, hair pulling, eye contact, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, praising, light aftercare

notes. corporate girlie by day, escorting by night. out of all people, who knew your own boss had to be tonights client? (ok but wealthy toji is such a refreshing experience from broke homeless smelly ass toji.)

art used is by @/yunonoai

Being able to say you work under Mr. Fushiguro meant that you were gifted of some kind. Just having the privilege to do so puts you on top of others in society.

Toji Fushiguro himself possessed a different category of wealth. Any high-rise building you walk into in the whole of New York, you could be 99.9% sure that he owns it.

Five star hotels, bars of any kind, and award-winning Michelin restaurants. Oh, you name it. This was his world and we were just living in it.

On the other hand, the Fushiguro company's pay was decent. Working conditions were way above standard. It was a luxury to work in his office, but knowing you, it just wasn't enough.

You needed more than that. Which is why you took up escorting, suggested by your best-friend one night while the two of you were intoxicated by liquor. She told you that you had the looks, the bod, and a personality anyone would die for. And lastly, you were captivating - you could have anything your way.

At first you took it as a joke. Thinking she was just being a lick ass. But surprisingly you had tried it out not long after the idea was proposed, and you ended up making almost double your annual net salary in just four months. This night job was a secret that only you and your best-friend knows about.

Of course, you worked on the weekends. Choosing to work Monday to Thursday would’ve been self sabotage.

You had more than enough money to buy whatever you want, send your mom on holiday, and you were always on top of rent. Your corporate job was just something to get through the day with rather than rotting at home.

During shifts, you and the other escorts would hang around in the night club changing rooms. Most of the girls were also strippers in the same club, but that wasn’t really your thing. So you just stayed with escorting. Your manager would just assign each of you clients, unless someone has personally booked you in.

Speaking of which, a voice came from the door frame. “Star, you have a client tonight. 9PM.” Star wasn’t your real name, it was just a fake one that you used while you escorted. It was safer, and most of the other girls did the same.

You look at Geto, your boss, in the reflection of the vanity mirror. Busy polishing up your eyeliner, you try your best not to poke yourself in the eye. “Name? And did he obey my no-home rule?”

As an escort, you did have some rules for your own service. You figured you’ve been doing this for quite a reasonable amount of time, so you made a personal rule where you’d refuse to go to a clients house. For safety reasons.

“Goes by the name.. uh… Eznin? And he did indeed. Seems like he booked in for the Ritz Carlton on 25 West. Think he’s a first time client too.” He reads the details off his tablet.

Of course, it just had to be one of Fushiguros hotels. You literally couldn’t escape that man.

The other girls in the room purred, “Aren’t you lucky.. Seems like he has money, don’t ya think?” Meimei takes a puff of her cigarette, looking at you in the mirror aswell for a response. “Maybe check for an expensive watch? I’d take it if I were you.”

“Not funny, Meimei.” She was known for stealing from her clients, you never knew how she got away with it. It even got so bad to the point that she sp¡ked a client, taking his wallet afterwards.

Getting up from the chair, you made your way behind the dressing divider, shimmying your robe off to slide on a dark blue lingerie set. Over it, you wore a simple black dress. I mean, you could never go wrong with a little black dress.

Throwing on some matching strappy heels, you stuffed your purse with some condoms and lube. And a plan B, of course.

“Your rides sorted,” Geto stood back from the door frame. “I’ll text you any further details.”

“Copy,” after spritzing on some perfume, you made your way out of the club.

An all-black SUV was waiting for you outside the entrance. Your favourite driver, Todo was standing beside the car door, smiling as you approached him.

“Hi, Todo.” You smiled as he held the door open.

“You look wonderful miss.” Todo smiles back before closing the door, walking around to the drivers side.

The car drives on, and as you were securing a secret mic in your purse, (for safety reasons but the client never knows) Todo speaks.

“Ah- Miss, not sure if I should disclose this information but your client tonight is.. very wealthy.” His leather covered hands clutch onto the wheel. “I’d be more demanding if I were you, make the most of it.”

Breaking out into a laugh, you stop fiddling with your bag, to look at him in the rear view mirror. “..Is that so?”

“Yeah… thought I might let you know.” He grins, bringing the car to a stop. Todo quickly scurries out of the vehicle before you could, opening the door for you.

“Thanks for the ride, Todo.” You slipped a $20 bill in his hand. “I’ll text you when I’m finished.”

He nods, getting back into the car as you made your way inside of the hotel.

Checking your phone for updates, Geto sent you a text with all the details around five minutes ago.

Eznin Caln 30 years old, Net worth- $307,473,297 Floor number 43, he’ll let you in.

You walked over to the elevators, luckily one was already open. Taking a look at the buttons panel, you looked for a 43. Noticing it was the last highest button, you raised an eyebrow before pressing it.

Clutching onto the straps of your purse, the doors closed. You could only look at yourself in the metal reflection, taking a few deep breaths. Of course, you made sure to send a text back to Geto to let him know you were at the hotel.

Although you were decently experienced in this job, you’d still get nervous each time you were about to meet your clients.

Setting down the fly aways in your hair, the elevator came to a halt.

*Ding!*

The metal doors opened before your eyes. Hesitant, you walked inside, the bottom of your heels tapping against the wooden floors.

“..Hello?” You peeked inside the other rooms in the penthouse, one being a mini office that seemed like someone was just there, the other being a bedroom with big windows and a balcony, overlooking the city.

A deep voice spoke behind you. “Can I help you?”

You gasp, clutching onto your chest as you turned around. “I’m so sorr- Mr. Fushiguro?!”

Your eyes widened, and his mouth wide open. He was only in a towel wrapped around his waist, his dark hair wet from a fresh shower. You couldn’t help but ogle the drops of water that decorated his muscular body.

“…Are you.. the escort?”

Unable to form words, you swallowed your spit before speaking. “I.. I am.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, looking down at the ground.

“Alright, make yourself comfortable.” He eyed you up and down, a mini towel in his hand to dry his hair. “Sorry you have to see me like this, excuse me while I put some clothes on.”

Is he not going to question anything?..

Your breath hitched, God, did he know I was eyeing him? “Okay..”

He turned around to go back to the bathroom, but looked over his shoulder as he was doing so. “Just call me Toji, we’re outside of work.”

You watched as Toji continued to walk away, “Well.. I’m basically working, aren’t I.” you muttered under your breath, making sure he doesn’t hear.

Looking around, you remembered that he owned this hotel. I should’ve known when I was going to the 43rd floor, he doesn’t let anyone in here.

You walked over to his bedroom, it was bigger than your own apartment. The sheets were neatly made, and a bottle of Malbec sat on a table near the window.

Placing your purse on small sofa, you removed your jacket, neatly folding it over the arm rest aswell.

You made your way to his closet, in search for a white robe. There was a robe on the hanger beside his freshly dry cleaned suits. You took it out, tracing your fingers over “The Ritz-Carlton” that was embroidered onto the front in cursive.

Sliding your dress off, you covered yourself in the robe, only the dark blue lingerie set underneath. Afterwards you tied a knot around your waist with the belt. Kicking off your heels, you placed them inside the closet, along with your dress that was neatly folded.

Although you were an escort, you made sure to clean up after yourself. You hated leaving a mess around, so you respected your clients by making sure to leave the place clean.

You could hear Toji walk into the bedroom. Closing the doors of the closet, you turned to him, and he was already busy getting the wine bottle open with a corkscrew.

Taking a seat on the armchair in front of him, causing you to be at crotch level with Toji. You watched as his arms flex each time he handled the bottle.

You noticed Toji was in a more relaxed outfit. He wore a dark grey cotton longsleeve that sculpted over his muscles like paint, with bottoms in a matching colour and fabric.

“Toji,” you called out his name.

The pouring of the wine stopped, his fingers gently pushing the glass towards you. “Hmm?”

Taking the glass by the stem, you twisted it between your fingers. “Do you regularly hire escorts?”

Toji walked over to the edge of the bed, sitting down. He sighed, looking at the city view in front of him. “No,” taking a sip, he continued. “This is my first time, actually.”

You did the same, but taking a tinier sip. You didn’t want to be tipsy while carrying out your service. It was too dangerous. “..Oh.”

Looking back at Toji, he was busy staring at the red liquid swirling around in the glass. “I dont even really know how they work.”

As you were about to take another sip, you paused. Your eyes looked at him over the rim of the glass, before placing it back down on the table.

“You can just do whatever you want with me, really.” You crossed your legs, exposing the bare skin on your thigh to him.

"I see," he nods, slightly leaning back onto the bed, using his hands for support.

"So, you made up your mind yet?" you got up from the arm chair, making your way to Toji who was on the bed. "What you wanna do?" You stood yourself between his legs, as he tried his best to hold himself back from pulling on the knot that was holding your entire robe together.

Toji's hands rested on your hips on top the robe, dangerously close to your ass. He made sure to bring you closer to him, almost pressing your chest to his face at this point. "I don't know," His free hand tugged on the knot of the belt, slowly unraveling it until the robe slid off your body. "Maybe you, if that's an option."

He could feel his cock strain against his pants as he took in the sight of you in nothing but lingerie, it felt like he was opening a present on his birthday. Blue was his favorite color.

You choked on your words at his response, he sure did have a way with his words. "I don't usually allow that, but maybe I'll let it slide tonight."

Toji caressed your wet lip with his thumb, gradually sliding it inside of your mouth as you sucked on it gently. He stops and moves you to the side by the waist, getting up from the bed.

Confused, you stay standing in front of the bed, watching Toji as he grabs something from the drawer. He eventually makes his way back onto the bed, but this time, leaning his head back against the head-board.

Toji takes out his wallet, pulling a $20 bill out and placing it on the nightstand beside him. "..Crawl over to me."

Your lashes flutter as you watched him place the bill on the night stand, you could only obey what he asked you to do. 'I'm just doing my job.. this doesn't mean anything. He will forget about this.' You constantly chanted this in your thoughts, completely disregarding the fact that he was your boss.

You crawled onto the bed, and slowly to him. Toji's eyes watched you closely making sure to tell you, "Stop," as you were just about to crawl onto his lap.

He takes out another $20 bill from his wallet, this time, two. Toji gently raised his knee, just enough for it to rub against your warm cunt that was covered by the lace panties. "Ride my leg, until I tell you to stop."

Aroused, which you are not meant to be, you couldn't help but sink yourself down onto his leg. Part of you wanted this, but you did at good job at not showing it.

You slowly started to move your hips back and forth on his lower thigh, placing both of your hands down in front of you for support. Toji's hardened cock begging to come out as he watched you closely.

If you were to lift up his top, you’d be able to see his leaking top peeking out of his waistband. The straps of your bra slowly fell down off your shoulders. Toji could almost groan at this lewd sight in front of him.

"Good girl," He did his best to hold himself back from holding onto your hips, "Keep going."

A spot on the fabric of his pants turned into a darker grey than before, your slick making its way through your panties. Nothing can be done.

Breathy moans started to crawl out of your throat, Toji noticing as you started to grind on his leg harder and slightly faster. "Stop."

You whimpered quietly as Toji retracted his leg from underneath you, observing the newly made wet spot on his pants. "Look at this mess you made all over me.."

Speechless, and breathless, you fell back onto your heels in front of Toji, he took another bill out, but this time $50.

"..I want that bra off." He slaps the bill onto the growing pile on the nightstand, followed by another 50. But he doesn't take his eyes off you. "And the panties. They're kinda annoying me now."

Doing exactly as he said, Toji's hand rested on his crotch, aching to palm himself through his pants. You slowly, but teasingly unclasped your bra, Toji clearing his throat by the time your tits were finally on display to him.

Followed by your soaked underwear, which at this point was no use. They managed to fly across the bedroom, hanging off a small statue that was on top of a console table.

He just wanted to wrap his mouth around each of them, or even motorboat your titties.

Toji propped himself up in a less relaxed position. "Lie down on your back, legs spread."

Your last sight was him before you fell back on to the bed, your head nearly hanging off the edge. Toji noticed your nipples hardened as soon as your skin made contact with the cold satin sheets. You felt the weight of the bed shift around, as Toji grabbed both of your legs by the thighs, positioning his head between them.

Squirming about, Toji peppered kisses on your inner thighs, his large hand wrapped around one of them. Wasting no time, he went straight to sucking and softly biting on your folds, using his tongue to lap at your bud until it was swollen. Moaning into your pussy, he softly massaged the flesh of your thigh, the vibrations from his grunts adding more to your stimulation.

Busy sucking away, wet noises from his tongue and the slick of your dripping pussy echoing throughout the bedroom. His hand reached behind him, then slowly went back over his shoulder. It was a $100 bill, tucked between his index and middle finger.

You were too busy hanging your head off the edge of the bed in pleasure, grabbing the sheets beside you and wrinkling them as Toji devoured you like he hasn't eaten for weeks.

The paper bill fell onto your stomach, tickling you slightly. You could feel Toji spit onto your pussy, the saliva trickling down almost into your hole before he slurped it back up, sticking his fingers in there instead. You felt them slide into you with ease, Toji swirling his warm tongue around on your clit.

"O-oh God.. To..ji." You managed to choke out a moan, your manicured hands clawing at his hair and eventually messing it up.

Letting go of your thigh, he used his now free hand to fondle with your breasts eagerly, twisting your nipples between his fingertips before giving them a slap.

One last lick on your clit, Toji removed his head between your legs, this time his whole body kneeling between them. You sneakily push up against him, his bulge through his pants grazing against your bare cunt.

Using your strength to lift your head from the edge of the bed, you watched as he took off his shirt, letting it fall onto the floor. Its neckline was soaked from eating you out earlier, but we don't talk about that.

Panting, his hands frantically rummage through his wallet. You noticed it was still bulky, as if the previous cash he pulled out didn't make any difference to the amount he had now.

Toji pulled out $1000 all in 20 bills, your eyes widening, wondering if he was serious.

"Please.. let me fuck you." Toji also sat back on his heels, $1000 in his hands as you were underneath him, fully naked. He just wanted to indulge himself in you, and if he could, he'd make this night last forever.

You slowly nodded, honestly begging to having his cock inside of you too. Before you knew it, your vision was filled with the $1000 raining down onto your body, and by your sides on the bed. He quickly pulled his bottoms down to his knees, before realising they were too annoying. He proceeds to fully kick them off.

Toji glances around the room for a condom, before you stopped him. "..Is it okay if we don't use one? ..I want to feel every inch of you."

You read his mind. "Anything you want, gorgeous."

His large hands shuffled through the pile of cash that was over your body, making sure that he could still see your tits and your beautiful face.

One hand grabbed onto your waist, and the other was used to align the tip of his cock with your hole. As soon as he slightly pushed the tip in, both of his hands were on your waist now.

Toji carefully slid in, making sure you take every inch of him. He closes his eyes in pleasure as he feels your plush walls clench around him, Tojis grip on your waist intensifying.

And, god was he big. In both cock, and Toji in general, he could destroy you if he decided to use full stength tonight.

"Y-you're too.. big," Toji not even halfway, you cry out, only wrinkling the sheets more to the point they weren't tucked into the frame hotel-style anymore.

You could feel both of his thumbs caress the soft skin of your sides as he cooed, "I know baby, I know," Toji let out a grunt as he tried to move in and out of you.

The difference of size between you and Toji made you throb, at this point he could just use his hands to fuck you on his cock back and forth like a doll in his grasp.

Toji starts to pant as he picked up the pace of his ruts, your tits bouncing, only adding to the pornographic sight in front of him.

Covering your face with your hands, you moan into them, the feeling of being full with Tojis cock was driving you mad. You could feel one hand let go of your waist, bringing it to your wrist to pull it away from covering your face.

The rustling of the cash beneath you and the sound of skin slapping echoed out into the living room from the bedroom. "Look at me when I fuck you," Toji says sternly, causing you to whimper in agitation as you did your best to keep your eyes on his.

"To..Toji.." You moan out, choking on your words as your hand grabbed onto his that was wrapped around on your waist.

"Come on doll, say my name." Turning feral, Toji pounds into you like a fleshlight. Voice shaking as you try to moan out his name, and by tomorrow you wouldn't be surprised if you lost your voice.

He comes to a halt, completely. Toji slides his cock out of you, a creamy white ring formed at the base. You whine before he hushes you. "Y'know what," He picks you up, cradling you in his arms.

You switch positions, instead you lock your legs around his waist, as the two of you made your way to the balcony door of the bedroom. Is he..

*click!*

Toji slid the glass door open, the two of you stepping out into the balcony. It wasn't cold, and you could see the still busy city carrying on with life underneath the hotel.

Suddenly, Toji peeled your legs off his waist, making you face the railing, and the city in front of you. You gasp as he roughly positioned your body, placing one leg up onto the rail, your two hands clutching onto the cold metal.

He slides into you again, but this time not allowing you to adjust. Toji immediately goes in with brutal force, your ass ripping against his pelvis as he drilled into you. On the balcony. For anyone to watch.

Toji spits again, his saliva falling onto your asshole and soon enough drips onto his cock that was continuously pounding in and out of you.

Your moans broke out into a giggle due to the ticklish feeling, Toji couldn’t help but smile at your reaction.

Both hands on your waist, Toji groans in pleasure and praises you non-stop for taking him like a good girl. His hand wrapped around your lower stomach as he felt you give in, your legs unable to support yourself. "You're doing so good for me," he whispers in to your ear, only to leave a trail of wet kisses down your back afterwards,

You moan continuously, for sure, everyone below could hear. Your hand made its way to Toji's nape, bringing him closer to you as he repeatedly fucked into your sweet spot.

"I’d do anything to be able to see a view like this one for the rest of my life," his left hand made its way down to your clit, lazily rubbing circles.

This just did it for you, lowly moaning, you let go of Tojis neck. Leaning forward, you rest your chin on the metal rail ontop of your same hands that were grabbing onto it. But a certain someone didn't let you do that.

Toji immediately grabbed you by your hair, pulling you back against his chest, taking your leg off the rail. You felt him interlock his hands around your inner elbow, suddenly fucking into you upwards as you grab onto his bicep for support.

"G-o-d Toji, please just f-u-ck your c-um into me." The enunciation of your words came out in bits, as Toji drilled up into you at a brutal pace.

He grinned against your necks skin, leaning further to plant kisses on your jaw."You want me to fill you with my cum, huh?"

You frantically nod, but that wasn't enough of an answer for a man like Toji.

"Oh baby, use your words." He purred into your ear, holding his orgasm to make sure you get it when you deserve it.

"I need it- I need it so ba-ad." You whimpered out, squeezing onto his bicep. "Please, Toji."

He whined, balls tightening as he heard you beg for him. You already drove him crazy, and that only drove him crazier. With one deep thrust, his movements come to a halt, allowing his warm, thick seed to fill you up completely.

Toji placed more kisses onto your back and your neck, making sure to never lose grip of you in case you go all jelly. Followed by him, slowly pulling his cock out of you, his load dripping out of your hole and onto the balcony flooring.

He stuck two of his fingers back into you, slowly fucking the load inside of you to make sure it stays inside. With his cum covered fingers, he slid the two of them past your lips and into your mouth. You sucked on them, humming as it covered your taste buds, and eventually swallowing.

Toji slapped your ass, and you yelped, giving him a glare. He chuckled before picking you back up bridal style, carrying you back inside the penthouse.

He gently and carefully placed you on the bed, quickly cleaning a bit of the mess you two made around the room.

"How about I go run us a nice bath, hmm?"

Fiddling with your thumbs, you watched as Toji neatly fold the pile of money together alongside the one on the night stand. Of course, it’s still yours. "That sounds good," You smiled as he walked over to give you a peck on the forehead.

The dripping of water from the bath tap rang throughout the room, Toji leaning back against you as the two of you were in the tub. You squeezed a sponge over his abs, the hot water dripping down his skin as he closed his eyes.

"..Toji," you called out his name, and he hums back in response.

You gently rubbed the sponge up and down his arm, "Would you say this counts as me working overtime for you?"

He smiles, opening his eyes to look up at you. "I'll add another $500 bonus and a shopping spree if you ride me in this tub."

You scoff, letting go of the sponge as you sulk against the marble of the tub. "I'm literally stuffed with your cum. I think you had enough, thank you very much."

Toji only laughs, "Aren't you forgetting you got an asshole and that throat of yours? We can easily squeeze in three more rounds."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts. 🎀🩷

[maxdibert]

Marauders fans who try to whitewash the actions of James Potter and Sirius Black or excuse them with the pretext that Snape joined the Death Eaters, I have news for you: you’re a bunch of classist idiots, and you don’t even realize it because you’ve never bothered to open a damn book to read about how capital and power work and how they are connected.

Was Severus Snape a racist? No, because believe it or not, there are many reasons to join an extremist group, and when we talk about vulnerable youths, ideology is often the last motive. Severus joined the Death Eaters because he wanted protection, he wanted to fit in somewhere, he wanted power. That need for protection stemmed from coming from a home filled with violence, but also from being systematically bullied at school without any consequences. In fact, not even the attempt to murder him had consequences. His life meant nothing, while his abusers—those rich, popular, and handsome kids (economic capital, social capital, physical capital)—did whatever they wanted without facing consequences. He was poor, friendless, and ugly, so he had no power, he was nothing. The only way to become something, to gain status and defend himself, was to do what other people with capital told him to do, those people he met at his house who didn’t treat him like an outcast. They promised that if he joined their group, he too could win, he could have power, he could be part of something—and he accepted. And he accepted because people like him only know how to do one thing: survive. A poor kid raised in violence is a survivor, and survivors do whatever it takes to stay alive. And they do ANYTHING to stay alive. Severus learned this from a young age, and that’s what he did as a teenager; that’s why he created spells to defend himself and why he made decisions to survive. Were they the right choices morally and ethically? If we ask ourselves this from the comfort and stability of a structured life, probably not, but that wouldn’t be fair, because his reality was very different.

It’s very easy to make the right choices when you have everything going for you. It’s very easy to surround yourself with the right people when you’ve had nothing but good influences around you. It’s very easy to have the right views when that’s all you have to think about and not whether you’ll have food the next day or survive a beating. James Potter had it incredibly easy in life, and even then, he chose to torture a poorer and more vulnerable kid simply because he could. And he didn’t do it alone; he did it supported by his friends, outnumbering him. Potter didn’t have to survive, he didn’t have to fend for himself, he didn’t have to find safe spaces because he was born surrounded by gold and affection, and still, he chose to be a jerk. And he did it because he had the money and the social position to do it. He did it because he was rich and Snape was poor, because he had loving parents and Snape didn’t, because he was a spoiled, classist brat. And so was Sirius. Sirius was classist and violent, and he enjoyed the suffering of others. He had the usual sadism of the Black family, except he changed the discourse about blood. But Sirius also never had to survive. He left his home with a millionaire inheritance from his uncle and was taken in by other millionaires, the Potters. He never had to fend for himself or survive anything, and he never knew what it was like to truly escape from hell with absolutely nothing. And he chose, like his other rich friend, to take advantage of his privileges.

Defending the abuse of power based on class advantage is classist. Not considering someone’s socio-economic conditions when evaluating their decisions is classist. Comparing the decision-making power of someone rich with that of someone who has nothing is classist. Judging the ethics of a person who had everything with someone who has feared for their life since childhood is classist.

And yes, defending the Marauders is classist as hell, and you should be ashamed of yourselves.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

hello!! could i request how the sdv bachelors would react to finding out the farmer has a big plushy collection they have to share a bed with? :3

Yeah :3

Thank you for your ask, dear anon! Enjoy 💕

_________________________________________

Alex:

Alex doesn't remember any toys except for his shabby grid ball (thanks to abusive dad who drank all the money). His mom bought this ball and played with him whenever she was free. Good times... He was grateful even for that old ball and mom's care.

So he's a little unaccustomed among all Farmer's plushies. It's so... unusual.

But the way Farmer sweetly hugs their plushie, immediately melted the athlete's heart, though there was a residue of sadness about his childhood.

Which, however, doesn't stop him from teasing his partner/spouse a little.

"Hehehe, honey, are you still sleeping with your toys?" *Sincerely envies them, but won't admit it out loud*

*And won't admit a photo of him snuggled up with some of their plushies* ("Farmer, you betrayed me!" "Heh.." 💕).

Sam:

Oh, Sammy used to sleep with a lot of plushies, too. He grew out of them then, though, and gave many of the toys to Vincent... He still have some plushies.

"Whoa, I remember that bunny! Mom gave me one just like it, only mine was black. And I won an alpaca just like this one at a fair about eight years ago." Memories, aaaaa!

Totally doesn't mind sleeping with Farmer surrounded by plushies. Even uses some as a pillow (Farmer doesn't mind).

Although he accidentally drops half of the plush toys on the floor (headcanon that Sam is active even while asleep).

Farmer doesn't give snuggles? Sam pretends to be offended and hugs their teddy bunny, showing Farmer "what they're missing" (they give in and give Sam more snuggles before farm work).

Sebastian:

The photo of Sebastian, dressed in all black, lying stone-faced among a dozen pink plush bunnies, became an iconic meme all over the Stardew Valley. Heck, this meme became popular throughout the Ferngill Republic. He became an internet star, hee hee...

Sebastian's actually pretty chil about Farmer's plushies, to be honest. Even thinks it's a very cute quirk of his partner.

Especially since Farmer has plush frogs in his collection! 🐸 Sebastian also has a plush frog, don't ask why, but he can show Farmer too if they want to see.

The local emo is now sure of what gift is sure to make Farmer happy.

With one look, he'll scare whoever somehow finds out about Farmer's collection and teases them. Especially if it is a frog plushie.

Elliott:

Oh my, Farmer's got a huge collection of stuffed animals. They must have been collecting for a long time. And the condition of the plushies is very well preserved - you can tell they've been cared for.

Elliott was interested to hear about where and how Farmer got these plushies. Maybe each of plushies has a story behind them.

He's a little dubious about sleeping with plushies, though, because there are a lot of them. Like, a LOT. So much so that the writer didn't see his favourite person under the pile of plush.

So Farmer will only have to take some of it to bed with him (hopefully the others won't take offence).

Elliott is literally that "Ah yes, me, my spouse, and their huge collection of soft toys." meme. As it is, he doesn't mind at all.

Harvey:

That's petty adorable. Although Harvey wonders to Farmer, do they really sleep with those plushies every day? Because it might not be very comfortable. Plus he's worried about his their uncomfortable sleeping position, and...

Ah, excuse him. Harvey can't take his doctor's hat off, even in a farm house.

He's a little uncomfortable sleeping with Farmer surrounded by all those toys, after all.

One time Harvey nearly had a heart attack because a huge plush bunny's face was staring at him in his sleep (without glasses, the doctor thought it was a monster).

But also sometimes, when he comes back from a hard day's work at the clinic, he's tired and falls right into a pile of toys. Yoba, they're so soft.

Shane:

"Here we go, Shane. These are my plushies." "Our plushies." "Huh?" Shane lay down on the bed, and the stuffed animals plopped down in a slide on top of him. "Our plushies."

Who would have thought Shane would be taken in by such a Farmer's quirk. He'd never looked so relaxed.

Embarrassed? Why would he? Nobody should give a shit that Farmer still has a collection of cuddly plushies. Farmer shouldn't give a shit about other people's opinions either.

Although Shane had virtually no toys as a child (as in, no normal childhood), he was often surrounded by teddy bears, foxes and other animals (because he was a frequent guest at Jas's tea parties).

Chicken man thinks it's sweet that Farmer still sleeps and talks to stuffed toys. So yeah, no problem with that.

[ak319]

Dark Arthur Morgan x sis reader

(!!WARNINGS: Abuse, misogyny , possessiveness, restrictions.) +Arthur is in his 20's here

"And what about this question, ma'am?" you asked, leaning over Mrs. Anne, your teacher. She ran a small homeschool for girls and Montessori for kids with some of the little kids being your friends' siblings. It was such a cozy, safe environment for studying. Classes started in the afternoon, around 4:30 p.m., and went on until the evening, usually wrapping up by 7 or 8.

You lived in Strawberry with your dad, Lyle, and your older brother, Arthur Morgan. Your dad had changed a lot after your mother's death, becoming an alcoholic and often disappearing for days. Arthur, on the other hand--he was your shield, making you feel both protected and suffocated at the same time. Since your father was usually too lost in his own world or away from home, he didn’t bother you much, only occasionally checking in as if to remind you he was still your father. Meh.

But Arthur--he took his role far too seriously. In fact, he thought he should take on both his and your father’s duties. That’s why you had to ask--or rather, beg--him to let you attend Mrs. Anne's classes when you first heard about them from Isla, your friend who had shown you the poster.

Strawberry wasn’t that big of a town, and after verifying everything about Mrs. Anne, Arthur finally agreed--thankfully. But only on the condition that he would pick you up and drop you off himself. He used to be caring, but not like this. Your mother’s death had changed the two men in the house in completely opposite ways. One stopped caring altogether, while the other became overbearing. And you were just trying to survive, making the best of it.

The urge to run away with your friends felt all too real sometimes. But then you’d think what would Arthur might do if he ever found you? That’s where all your plans would fall apart. You had also learned, through Arthur, that neither he nor your father were earning their money honestly. He tried to keep it from you at first, but eventually told you when you were old enough. You had your suspicions anyway--his words were just confirmation.

Today was like any other day. Arthur had dropped you off outside Mrs. Anne's house as usual. But by 7:30, the weather took a sudden turn--it started raining heavily out of nowhere. It had been a bit windy earlier, but there was no sign of rain. Yet here it was, pouring down. Time passed, and it was now 8:10 p.m., but your idiot of a brother still hadn't shown up to pick you up. You were feeling awkward staying at your teacher's home, despite Mrs. Anne and her husband being the sweetest people. You’d already had two cups of hot chocolate with your friend, Isla, and didn’t want to impose any further.

"(Y/N), he might not come with this heavy rain. We could walk to your house together--it’s not that far," Isla suggested, whispering. It was just the two of us left, as most of the girls had gone home earlier. You both had work to finish, but even if you’d finished sooner, you couldn’t leave without Arthur. Going home without him wasn’t the first option.

"But what if he comes here after we leave?"

Isla groaned. "Mrs. Anne will tell him that we headed to your place. Look at me--my house is even further than yours, what the hell would I do-- oh my God! I can just stay at yours tonight! I already told my mother that if it rains, I might stay over at yours. Let’s just go!."

She had a point. Maybe Arthur was out doing--well, you didn’t even want to think about it. After taking leave from Mrs. Anne, the two of you dashed to your house with the umbrellas she had given you.

Once you reached the small, humble abode, you both headed to your room with the food you had prepared earlier, settling in to chat and relax while enjoying the soothing sound of the rain.

"Where are your dad and brother?" Isla asked.

You shrugged. "I mean--Dad being absent is normal, but Arthur is usually home by now. I’m kind of worried."

"Seriously, (Y/N)? I’d be happy to have the house to myself for a change. Not to mention, some space. He’s--kind of scary, isn’t he?"

"Scary? Well, yeah, sometimes. But trust me, he’s nice and caring. More than Dad could ever be. It does get a bit too much at times, though."

"Mhm. And it’s kind of messed up, isn’t it? The work they do. Both of them." Isla was the only friend you’d confided in about your family, and that was only because she had once seen Arthur with Dutch, a shady con man who often visited Strawberry or rather his boss. You hated Dutch despite never meeting him. He's the reason your brother is now on the same path as your dad.

"What can I do about it? I’ve tried talking to him, but he always shuts me out--" Your eyes caught a glimpse of a paper sticking out of the side pocket of your bag. "Wait, what’s that?"

You pulled out the paper, and both you and Isla began reading it. It was some kind of confession addressed to Mavis, another girl in your class. You couldn’t figure out who wrote it or why it was in your bag. The writer had only signed with an initial: A.

"Oh! Wait, wait, wait! It must be Amell. I saw him whispering to a kid outside from the window. He must be the one who gave this to him to put in Mavis’s bag."

"Amell who? And how did this end up in my bag?" you asked, confusion evident on your face as you looked back at the note.

Isla leaned back against the headboard, stretching her limbs with a relaxed sigh. "Amell is Mrs. Anne’s son. I’ve seen him talking to Mavis before. You and Mavis were sitting together today, and you both have the same colored bags. The kid must’ve gotten confused."

“Is the kid we’re talking about, Anders? He’s so dumb,” you said, shaking your head with a soft chuckle. “Anyway, don’t let me forget to hand this to Mavis tomorrow.”

Suddenly, the door to your room burst open, and Arthur stormed in.

Your eyebrows furrowed at his sudden intrusion. "Um... hi?" you said, your tone a mix of surprise and uncertainty.

Isla straightened up, her eyes quickly avoiding Arthur’s gaze, as she gave a hesitant but polite greeting as well.

"How did you get home?" Arthur's voice was cold, cutting through the room.

"Isla and I came together. Where were you, though?" you asked, trying to keep your tone casual despite the tension.

Arthur’s gaze shifted to Isla. "Isla, the rain has stopped. You should go home. Your family must be waiting."

Isla looked at you, confusion clear on her face. "She’s staying becau-"

"Not today," Arthur interrupted firmly.

"Why not? Are you going to tell me where you were?" you shot back, frustration creeping into your voice.

"Y/N, I--I’ll see you tomorrow."

You let Isla leave, your irritation with Arthur growing. You wanted to talk openly without making Isla uncomfortable in the middle of the family drama. As you moved to escort her to the front door, Arthur abruptly blocked your path. "Stay here," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

You sighed and sank back onto the bed, shoving the letter--which was still in your hand--back into your bag. Arthur stormed back in and slammed the door a bit too hard.

"What’s gotten into you?" you asked, trying to keep your voice calm despite the frustration bubbling up inside.

Arthur’s eyes were cold, his jaw set. "What did I tell you about coming home alone?" His irritation was palpable, fixated on the condition he had imposed.

"Well, what was I supposed to do, stay there? It’s 9 p.m.! Where were you?" Your words seemed to only fuel his anger, rather than penetrate his stubbornness.

Arthur’s gaze hardened. "I’ve noticed your tone changing recently, ever since you started going there. What exactly are they teaching you at that place, huh?"

"Basic knowledge. Like not overstaying your welcome at someone’s house when you can walk home," you retorted, trying to keep your tone steady despite your rising frustration.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed further as he took a few steps closer. "Is that so?" His voice was low, dangerously calm. "Well, our dear father got arrested, so I was at the sheriff's. And as for ‘basic knowledge,’" he said, grabbing your bag and dumping its contents onto the floor.

"HEY! My books!!" you exclaimed, a mix of shock and anger in your voice.

"Mhm, what might this be?" Arthur’s attention was fixed on the letter he had seen earlier. He picked it up and read it, his expression darkening as his suspicions were confirmed. "A confession, hmm? An A? This is what you two were gigglin' about earlier?" he murmured, crumpling the letter in his fist, his gaze still locked on it. You gritted your teeth, trying to keep your composure.

"A for… Amell, her son, right?" Arthur’s tone was icy, his eyes boring into you as he processed the revelation.

"What even--- That wasn’t for me! It was for Mavis! Have you forgotten to read?!" you protested, trying to defend yourself. He scoffed at your reply, eyes twinkling with amusement. "So Mavis is your codename?"

"Are you serious?"

Arthur’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "Did he drop you both home, or just you alone? Huh?" His fists clenched tightly, and you could see the anger boiling beneath his calm exterior. Arthur's boots struck the floor with a deliberate, menacing rhythm.

"What are you on about, Arthur? You know that’s not true! A kid put it in my bag. Look, it’s not mine. You can ask Isla."

Arthur’s gaze hardened even further. "Why should I ask her? Hm? She’s your partner in crime, isn’t she? And it’s not like you’re going to see her again."

"W-what? What does that mean?!" you stammered, panic rising in your voice. But nothing could have prepared you for the next moment. Your hands were now on his as he gripped your jaw, your body instinctively going stiff, the fear evident in your eyes. This was the first time he had raised his hands to you in such a threatening manner.

"Yes, no more Isla and no more of that whorehouse you go to. You’ve studied enough. I’ve been too lenient with you." A pained whimper escaped your lips as his gloved fingers dug into your jaw.

"N-no-don’t do that! Why are you not believing me, Arthur?!" you pleaded, your voice breaking. He shoved you by your jaw, sending you crashing to the floor. Your head narrowly missed hitting the bed’s edge.

"If you utter one more word or try to set a foot outside until I say so, especially to that school of yours, I WILL BREAK YOUR FUCKING LEGS!"

His heavy breathing was the only sound you could hear as you stared at the floor, your vision blurred by tears and chest tight with fear and anxiety. He can easily break you in two if he wants to right now, even Isla's gone. "I am here, working these jobs to keep a roof over your head while that fool has clearly given up, and you’re here, frolicking with your lovers! Learning to write fucking love letters." He stood over you, his anger uncontrollable, and grabbed you by your hair, forcing you to lift your head slightly.

"You’ve enjoyed yourself enough. Now stay at the fucking house and make it a home, like Mother did, like you are supposed to do. And I’m dead serious when I say you don’t want me seeing you going near that house or interacting with those little friends of yours, got it? Because I have eyes and ears everywhere." His words were a chilling threat, leaving you too stunned to fully grasp their meaning.

"DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND?!" he demanded, his voice thunderous. He yanked your hair with a brutal force, his actions cold and devoid of the care he once showed you. This was the same brother who used to be so kind, now revealing his true, harsh colors over a simple misunderstanding.

"K-kay," you managed to choke out, nodding with tears streaming down your face. He released you with a rough shove.

"Get up and heat the food. I’m going to freshen up." And just like that, he left, leaving you alone in the oppressive silence. Your books lay scattered around you, their presence a painful reminder of a future now out of reach, as you were left enveloped in a cloud of despair.

Part II

[octuscle]

Late Night Possession

Inspired by @malevessel

It was a terrible day. Meetings that dragged on like chewing gum. The air conditioning in the meeting room was faulty, it was well over 30 degrees Celsius outside, much higher inside and the humidity wasn't much below 100 percent. I hate it when lawyers suddenly join us at the end of a project. They talk everything up without even having understood for five cents what it was all about. And my client's in-house counsel was not only annoying, he also stank from the mouth and smelled terribly of sweat. The air in the meeting room was stifling. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when we thought we were finally finished at 8pm. And then the pain in the ass said he had a few more questions….

It was really lucky that I got the last train home. I still had a three-hour journey ahead of me. It would be 02:00 when I was finally in bed. What a day! But I would take a nap now. The train was almost empty, I was sitting in the rest area, no one would disturb me.

"Hey bro, I swear! The bitch was begging for mercy. And then I fucked her all the more!" I am rudely torn from my reverie. Two seats away, a guy has sat down. A migrant with Arab roots, I'd say. Not a Muslim, because he doesn't perform ablutions. It smells of sweat and tobacco. The guy is on the phone at 11:30 at night in the train's rest area. On the phone? No, he's shouting. Without a headset of course, I can hear his "bro" on the other end just as well as I can hear him. And the guy is smoking. On the train. That's all I really needed today to be happy.

I may look weak. I am weak. Sport was never my thing. But I'm not anxious. Even if the guy has arms that make my legs look skinny. But he's not allowed to use the phone here. And he's certainly not allowed to smoke here. I stand up. I go to him. He only looks at me for a split second and immediately turns his attention back to his conversation partner. "Excuse me, this is a non-smoking train and you are in the rest area… So may I ask you…" BAAAAANNG! His fist hits me without any warning. My eyes go black.

Shit, why does my fist hurt? Shouldn't my head be hurting? I rub my fist. And see myself. On the floor. Knocked out. Shit! Shit! Shit! I look in the window. At my reflection. A migrant with Arab roots. "Yo dude, you good? Yo bro, spill the tea, what's the 411?" I hear from the cell phone. I pick up the phone, say that everything is okay, but that I have to take care of something here and hang up. I lie on the floor and sniffle. So it's the other one. Or is it me? Damn it! What's happened here? Take it easy now. This is a dream. I have brain trauma or something… What would I really do now if I were in that bastard's body? I'm like remote-controlled. I take my wallet out of my jacket pocket. I take my watch, the gold cufflinks and my glasses. I put everything in my laptop bag. The next station is coming. And I jump out of the train. I need a cigarette now. I don't smoke, but my body is obviously addicted to that shit. There's a Zippo and filterless Marlboros in my bomber jacket. I'm still a bit inexperienced with it, I have tobacco crumbs on my tongue. But the smoke feels good. So good. And my head is finally starting to work properly again.

Okay, I'm in the middle of nowhere in Stoke-on-Trent. Shit, I've got the belongings of a man who's been knocked out on a train to Manchester. I'm going to need money. I take the money out of my wallet, take the credit cards and pull the maximum amount out of the ATM in the deserted station concourse with each one. According to the departure board, there's a train back to London in ten minutes. The platform is empty. I get on, leave the laptop bag with everything that might remind me of myself in an empty compartment and quickly get off again. The train departs. Shit, shit, shit! I need one more cigarette first. I smoke the second one much more routinely on the station forecourt. Opposite the station is a somewhat shabby-looking hotel. While I'm thinking about going in there, a bus arrives. Destination Birmingham. Without thinking twice, I get on the bus. Birmingham. I drove through there a few hours ago. In a completely different body. I fall asleep.

It's dawn when my cell phone wakes me up. The phone of the guy who knocked me out. Mine after all. Shit, I'm not awake yet and the situation is challenging. The phone isn't vibrating discreetly, it's quite loud. BILLY TSTRK as the ringtone. One of my favorite hip-hop artists. He's also from Beirut. It's my buddy Dylan. He asks if everything's okay because I haven't been in touch. I say I've had a bit of stress with the wanker on the train and am now on the bus to Birmingham rather than Manchester. Dylan says cool, he'll tell Hamza and he'll pick me up at the bus. "You're a man of honor, I'll kiss your eye!" I say and hang up.

It's 05:30. I've been on the phone with Facetime. Without a headset. Several pairs of eyes stare at me in annoyance. "laenat alfilastiniiyn alkufaar" I curse and close my eyes again.

Had to go into hiding for a few weeks. The police were looking for me. Of course, there were surveillance cameras at the station. As far as I know, my old body is in a mental hospital. The story of the investment banker who suffered brain trauma after being mugged on a night train and then thought he was his tormentor was in the press. Not that I still read the papers. But it even appeared on Yasin's Instagram account, which is now my account.

My boys had to get used to it a bit. The investment banker is still in me. And that's a good thing. As Yasin, I have a pretty complex company to run. Import, export, all sorts of different stuff. I wash the money in investments in shisha bars and fitness studios. Hey, I only invest in things I know something about. And I practically live on the weight bench and in the shisha lounge area. Even though I think shisha sucks. I'll stick to cigarettes.

[koiiiji]

i got this idea really randomly, pls don’t hate me😭

Goo have a tendency to choose absolute garbage as his secret friends, but this doesn’t apply to you. you seemed absolute cinnamon roll when Goo Kim brought all of you together and nobody understood why you even were in this company.

on the other hand, you didn't understand Goo, what kind of animals he just collected. in your honest, and absolute right opinion Samuel was totally uncontrollable with his anger and easily lost his temper, Taejin too flattering, when it came to his boss, it seemed like that too sweet-bitter candy, and Taesung… well, Taesung was only good for carrying your huge shopping bags. what actually is happening right now. one of your conditions for working with Goo and his zoo was that you could use his card and gritting his teeth, Goo had to agree if he wanted to have a wide variety of information. not like you didn’t have your own money, it was just funny to look at man who loves money more then anything else on this planet, giving you a full access to his account.

what was the reason for choosing your companion today? it's simple, you didn't want other girls, and in principle, guys, to cling to handsome guys like Sammy and Taejin, distracting them from very important things - obediently following after you, dragging with your purchases. and Taesung was huge and intimidating enough to scare away all the queues in front of you. but as it turned out, he is not the most silent and obedient. in another store, he again hissed threateningly at you with claims, "you fucking vixen, i didn't hire myself as your errand boy, or we're coming back right now, or-" "or you shut your mouth right now and don't bother me, or Goo will have to be very upset by the fact that i'm no longer secret friends with him." you stopped sorting through the hangers and fixed a bored gaze on Taesung. you knew perfectly well that he didn't have the courage to argue with Goo, and so you calmly used it against him. leaving the store, Taesung had no choice, but to follow you, because it was somehow unwilling to listen to Goo's nonsense. on the other hand, he thought to himself, paying attention to the view in front of him, he had a great opportunity to stare at your ass, he had to admit that your figure is appetizing.

stopping in front of the next store, Taesung roared in protest, "are you fucking crazy, woman? i will not go into this place," he pointed to a neat sign that read "agent provocateur" with a mischievous grin, you reminded him of the agreement with his boss and amid shouts of protest you dragged him into a real hell on earth for any man.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Sibling Cat Hybrids: Patricia and Pepper

Deciding to take on hybrids was something you were hesitant to do 

Besides being morally controversial for you, it was a huge hit to your spending money

But you got tired of the faux pride you got donating to hybrid-care facilities 

So instead you decide to walk into a shelter (one with good practices)

And you tell them upfront that you’re willing to open your home and heart to the ones who need you most

Crippled, rejected for looks, attitude problems

The helper lights up and then deflates before asking some leading questions

“Do you like cats?”

And that is how you are given Patricia and Pepper

This sister and brother duo are two sides of the same kind

Patricia has a luxuriously long tail and grooming routine that matches

“Are you illiterate? The signed packet told you I needed to be groomed, shampooed, and conditioned regularly.”

“Well yeah, that’s why I left everything in the bathroom.”

“Hold on! You think I’m doing this myself?! Nuh-Uh, You have so much to learn! Grab the brush and pull up a stool, now!”

Demanding as she is gorgeous Patricia is a cat girl with expensive tastes

Until that day she’ll likely swipe your credit card to buy the incredibly overpriced brand-powered shampoo 

And just curl her lip at you when you confront her

“Don’t cry, if you keep working hard I’m sure you’ll pay it off.”

For as unhelpful and arrogant as she is, her brother is an extreme opposite

“I know you showed us to those extra rooms just for us but i-if you don’t mind my stench I think I can serve you better in your room!”

“What?!”

“I’ll be happy to sleep on the floor! I promise I’ll be useful!”

Pepper’s always so eager to help and talk himself down

You’ll literally have to fight him to make sure he’s sleeping and taking care of himself instead of the home

“P–please I’ll probably eat once I finish cleaning this one last thing.”

“Probably?! No, you look like you’ve lost too much weight!”

“Nooo please!”

This dynamic will be going on for a long while 

You going to work and returning home to find either Pepper in danger needlessly risking his life 

Or Patricia throwing out all of your childhood memorabilia because she felt it was tacky

Maybe for once you shed a tear

Or you yell

Or you just completely shut down from any conversation 

In the end, you leave 

For a long time

Longer than you’d go to the store or even work

You’re just gone

“Pat I think you did it again. You scared them off!”

“I scared them off? Please I know very few people who’d be happy coming home to a corpse.”

“At least I was trying to be useful!”

“I took care of the grooming they didn’t do, that’s plenty generous.”

“Thanks to you, they’re sending us away! I really liked this one!”

“Don’t blame me, you cur! They’re leaving because you appall them!”

They argue for hours

Because they are siblings

And it helps with filling the sound of you going through your nightly routine

By the end of it, both of their hair are sticking out 

they’re pacing while nervously staring at the door

So many thoughts in their head 

The embarrassment of being sent back

The disappointment and scorn from the employees when they return

The pain they felt when you reacted the way you did

The suffocating fear of you leaving them forever

They’ve had absent owners…but they were always that way

You were there even if you sighed and scolded them, you were still there

You might’ve kept to yourself but you didn’t ignore them

At the end of the day, they still ate together with you

… They really didn’t like this

When the lock on the door clicks and the light clicking of a turn begins 

They’re leaping for the door

Capturing you in a hug you can’t escape from

“We missed you! I-I’m very sorry! I fished out and cleaned everything! Please forgive me! And please don’t just send me away! Oh and my brother too.”

“PLEASEDON’TSENDUSAWAYPLEASEDON’TPLEASEPLEASEIMIGHTBEPUSHEDTOSTRAPABOMBTOMYSELFANDBLOWINGUP—”

“Whoa whoa, I’m not sending you guys away. Also, Pepper what was that you were going to say?”

“WAAAAHHHH tHANK THAank YOu! WAHHH” 

After Pepper can breathe, you don’t mind sitting down with them to finally speak

“I’m glad you’re not sending us away. I was certain you found us annoying enough to.”

“Oh no I do find you two annoying.”

“What?! wwwwWAAHHHH!”

“But I’m not going to send you away because of that. Also, I think it’s pretty crummy that I can even do that after all the paperwork I signed.”

“WAHH! I’M ANNOYING!?”

“Yes, Pepper now shush. That’s very mature of you I also appreciate your honesty.”

 Ultimately they relax when it comes to being sent away

But they’re worried that you barely address your annoyance 

“Even my friends annoy me. It’s not that bad.”

“But it is. I–we pushed you so far…we’d like not to do this again.”

“I-I think…Pat and I just want to please you…maybe more than just what your morals allow.”

Thus a new routine has begun

One that won’t have you leaving for hours on end

“Good Evening dirt on my heels, who’s going to give me a gift big enough to buy that Prada collar I’ve been eying?”

Now Patricia streams finding a small group of people willing to fund her interests allowing her to contribute to the home 

Pepper continues to clean up the house but with new parameters

“Here (Y/n)! I took pictures of me eating all my meals today! See? Now can I get head pats?”

This works allowing them not to get on your nerves while you navigate life with your two hybrids

If they have any say in it that’ll be all you’ll be aware of

On the other side, Patricia and Pepper are taking their independence very seriously

“Pepper, did you finish your dossier on the coworker who called yesterday?”

“I did, here’s the file. I’ve already gone to the trouble of mapping out their routine; highlighting the best times depending on the method we use.”

“Good work. Now next report?”

“Yes! I found this while cuddling (Y/n) last night~ They got all giggly when I touched a specific spot with my tail.”

“...Last night where was I?”

“Dealing with the neighbor’s loud little pest.”

“Right…For equal treatment, I’ll be initiating our cuddle session tonight.’

“Hahaha…nice imagination Patty but that’s my job.”

Somehow fighting between the siblings still persist but you’d take that over the stalemate you two had before

[toovaeloe]

jjk men and their girl’s hair 🪮

A collection of headcanons,

made for a black reader, but others are welcomed to read! some of it is ambiguous

blackfem!reader

characters: satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, choso kamo, toji fushiguro (AS A JOKE), ryomen sukuna (ANOTHER JOKE)

(Sorry if you have locs pooks😭🤍)

there’s no pronouns mentioned, but it’s made entirely with a bw in mind (with the hairstyles mentioned and such) so I’m still labeling it as fem!reader

definitely inspired by this drabble!

.•*:｡☁️satoru gojo☁️𓍼ֶָ֢⊹

☁️Clueless mf

☁️But he wants to understand

☁️WILL whine about how long it’s taking you to do your hair

“baaaaaaaaaaaaabbyyyyyyyyuhhhhhhh…can’t you like? Work any faster??” He’s huffing and puffing, rolling around on his bed and whining. Occasionally poking his head into the ensuite bathroom to observe the mess that is your workspace. When he does come in, he’s poking and prodding at you. He’s got the nerve to blame your hair for taking away his quality time with you.

And you’re fed up with his brat behavior. He’s so persistent in his tantrum and so bothersome, you’ve had to redo your sections more times than you should’ve had to. He’s just too distracting; you’re gonna give yourself a smiddle part if he doesn’t shut up.

“why don’t you get over here and actually help then???”

☁️he’s never really…done much with hair before. Ever. never had to

☁️the undercut was his one and only move

☁️I mean look at him 🙁 he’s the kind to be like “yeah, I just shampoo and condition. Sometimes I don’t even really need to brush it.” And it’s like, flawlessly smooth and shiny and he should really just get a gig with Pantene for an ad cause damn

☁️he only stumbles a few times and learns at a terrifyingly inhumanly fast pace

☁️Ends up taking over and he’s got your style done in record time, and it looks better than if you had done it yourself somehow. (sorry, it’s literally canon that he’s the best at everything he tries, there’s nothing to be done about it)

🤍and then he’s playing in your head 😭

“Let’s do this one next,” he’s shoving his phone in your face.

“you can NOT give me lemonade braids.”

☁️oh yeah and he’s got the money to fund your hair 🤍 of course

.•*:｡☁️suguru geto☁️𓍼ֶָ֢⊹

☁️Okay not as bad as Gojo

☁️Have you seen this man’s hair?? He maintains it. Cares for it. He can at least do that much.

☁️Learns pretty quickly as well; but he’s educated almost entirely off of YouTube tutorials and online forums

☁️He wanted to start doing your hair together as a cute date activity <3

☁️But then sometimes it’s not that cute

☁️Prayers if you’re tender headed🙏🏽

“Ooooowuh!!!”

“Stop squirming,” He’s demanding around a rat tail comb, pausing the video tutorial on his phone that’s propped up against the bathroom mirror. If you start whining or pulling away he’s yanking you back into place by your hair as he rewinds the tutorial. But he’s nice with you, too; he’ll lean forward and kiss away any tears that gather at the corners of your eyes from over your shoulder, gently whisper and shush you with his lips against the shell of your ear.

“It’s okay, we’re almost done. See? My baby looks so pretty,” As he’s gesturing to you and your three quarters done hair in the mirror, angling your head every which way he wants with a grip on the unfinished section. You’re starting to think he just likes doing that for the hell of it when you catch the beginnings of a smirk curling at his lips. Sick freak. (Love him🤍)

🤍At the end of the day though the style is TIGHT like your hair is gripping onto your scalp for dear life.

☁️And I know he does at home silk presses like no other

☁️They are siiiilllllkkyyyyy

☁️When you do have a silk press or a straight wig installed though he’s styling your guys’ hair to match exactly in the half up bun and half down. With the stupid side bang. (I love his stupid side bang)

☁️Sickeningly cute couples activity

.•*:｡☁️kento nanami☁️𓍼ֶָ֢⊹

☁️Dreamy sigh

☁️He’s not very good at first but he’s VERY good at following directions

☁️And the precision????

☁️You could take a ruler to your head when he parts your hair

☁️They’re so perfect

☁️Best at parting hair

☁️And very meticulous with braiding too

☁️so serious about it

☁️But he also won’t hurt you either when he’s helping you do your hair

☁️It’s more of a sitting in front of the tv watching the same show again while he listens to you talk about your day thing

“yeah, and you wouldn’t believe when— hey Ken?”

“Hm?” He’d hum in return, but his eyes are still laser focused on the way his fingers are deftly working three sections of your hair, overlapping the portions with a careful touch, and yet so efficiently.

“Are you even listening to me?” You inquired, trying to turn your head to catch his eye, but you can’t even get a glimpse of him before he’s directing your head back towards the screen with his pointer under your chin and thumb pressed against the mandible of your jaw.

“No moving. Keep your head forward, my love.” He commands as he resumes his work. That’s right; his work. He takes this very seriously, you will come out with perfect hair every time.

“But yes; of course I’m listening. What’d she do next?”

☁️he’s so gorgeous and perfect.OMGGG

☁️He will drop hella cash for your hair too. He’s a minimalist so he doesn’t have anything else to pour the money into anyway. what’s he gonna spend it on? Another watch? A stamp collection???

☁️Did i mention he’s perfect and the loml?

☁️He is.

.•*:｡☁️choso kamo☁️𓍼ֶָ֢⊹

☁️Hmmm…

☁️Oookay, soooo

☁️He really does try. and that’s what counts.

☁️gold star for perseverance

☁️Yes he can do his own hair and yes he’s taking care of it

☁️But he just cannot…eh

☁️Anything more than 4 parts is giving him trouble

☁️He can’t braid well

☁️He gets so frustrated with himself

☁️Talking to your hair; negotiating with it

☁️Losing every time

Another string of muttered curses under his breath after he insisted he “help” plait your hair before bed that night.

“Cho, it really doesn’t have to be perfect-“

“I know! I know, I’m just—“ Another bitten back swear as he undoes the sections once again with a defeated huff. “Okay, just let me just redo it, one more time. It’s really uneven.”

Don’t flinch at the thought. For his peace of mind.

☁️What he can do though is a mean slick back

☁️edges, 10/10 swoops

☁️And he can give you space buns 💀 to match his hair

☁️he’s good at low manipulation natural styles

☁️He can do twists, he’s not completely incompetent. Just not with clean parts

☁️makes up for everything in relaxing oil scalp massages

☁️You’re gonna fall asleep

☁️Also unexpectedly good at crochets; parts are invisible every time

☁️Which just does not make sense you don’t understand where the disconnect is

☁️He loves when you have your natural hair out

☁️Doesn’t really care how long or short it is, it just makes him happy to see you feeling confident in it

🤍

.•*:｡☁️toji fushiguro☁️𓍼ֶָ֢⊹

☁️LMAOOO

☁️His broke ass doesn’t have shit for you

☁️No money for your poor hair

☁️Also no concept of how expensive it is to go to a salon

“You spent how much…? On HAIR!!????” Definitely clicking his tongue and looking annoyed asl.

“Coulda bought me a nice dinner and place to stay for tonight with that money.”

☁️Sorry if you came for him or Sukuna I won’t really write for them/if at all unless requested 🤷🏽‍♀️ I did warn you

.•*:｡☁️ryomen sukuna☁️𓍼ֶָ֢⊹

☁️Malevolent razor

☁️Really doesn’t matter what type of hair you have; this one applies to everyone

☁️Will chop off little portions of your hair in your sleep.

☁️Does not tell you if the back of your head looks a mess

☁️Let’s you walk around looking foolish

☁️Idk he’s like evil or something

☁️What did you expect

a/n: I wrote this entirely for fun I was giggling the entire way 😭

and after seeing that I’d maybe have an audience for this I decided I’d post it, pls don’t flop 🙈

[jjkamochoso]

In Sickness and Sadism

Not fluff, not angst, but a secret third thing... (it's Feitan from HxH, what can I say)

Feitan Portor x gn!reader with chronic illness

You can't afford your medicine. Feitan won't accept that!

Warnings: cussing, breaking of human bones, mentions of other violence (not toward reader)

"What do you mean the price went up that much?"

You were incredulous. You had been frequenting the same pharmacy in your home town since you could remember and the price for medicine had always been consistent. That's what you liked about shopping there--the owner didn't price gouge like they did in every other store. Now, you didn't know what to do. You needed to buy the damn medicine or else you would be miserable, or probably even dead. It already wasn't easy having to deal with a chronic illness and now you had to face the fact that you definitely didn't have enough money to buy something you needed to live.

"That's just how much it is now, don't cry to me about it," sneered the cashier and you felt your anger bubble up at his lack of empathy. Your life was terribly unfair and you wanted to scream, cry, and punch the smirk off the cashier in that order.

"Please, can I talk to Mr. Greck, the owner, about this? I've been coming here for years, maybe he can get me a discount," you pleaded, but the cashier just laughed at you.

"The owner has a job from which he needs to make money. Not that you would know what it's like to have money in the first place. So no, you can't waste his time begging like the poor person you are. Now get out or I'll throw you out."

You glared at him, hoping he was bluffing, but he seemed the type to follow through with hurting someone like you and you knew your body couldn't take the exhaustion, especially if you were going to be off your medicine for a while. You needed to make sure you were in good condition to work every day of the week, plus overtime, to make enough to buy your month's supply. Feeling defeated and upset, you left the building, tears falling freely.

Feitan prided himself on his distinct lack of empathy. He relished in the fact that the pain of others makes him feel warm inside. There was no better symphony of sounds than people crying and screaming for their pain to stop.

So why the fuck was he finding himself so outraged at some random person's medical predicament?

The raven haired man had stopped in to a local pharmacy to pick up (ahem... steal) some supplies for the Troupe in case anyone managed to get hurt on the latest mission. He wasn't paying attention to his surroundings for the first few minutes of his shopping spree, completely uncaring to someone else's woes of the fragility of the human body. All of a sudden, after stuffing the last roll of gauze in his sleeve, his ears perked up to listen in to the conversation happening at the front register.

"What do you mean the price went up that much?"

His eyebrows furrowed. Not that he cared, because he wasn't paying for any of his things anyway, but he did notice that the price tags here for items displayed significantly lower numbers than previous pharmacies he had visited in other areas around. You had affirmed his findings in your conversation with the cashier and Feitan felt his blood boiling at the brash rudeness coming from the cashier's mouth. Who did that scum think he was, speaking like that to someone for no reason? Feitan certainly wasn't the nicest guy around but even he had the decency to not be a total jerk to random strangers, let alone people in distress about their medical and financial woes. He didn't know why he was giving this ordeal the time of day. Maybe it was because of his upbringing? He saw this type of thing daily in Meteor City. Hell, he lived it himself. There was nothing scarier than seeing a totally healthy person decay rapidly and shrivel into nothingness, all because they were born in unfortunate circumstances. He scoffed when he saw you leaving in tears. Why didn't you just use your brain and brawn and steal it? Were you too weak? He saw your fists clenching earlier and figured you were strong enough to take down that slime ball. If you did end up getting your ass kicked, at least you didn't lie down like a dog and take it, like you were doing now. His eyes followed your frame until you left the building and he watched until your silhouette was no longer visible outside. He didn't know why he was doing this. He wasn't supposed to make a big scene whenever he was out and about, but the events were already set into motion before he could stop himself.

"5 month supply of whatever that person needed." Feitan ordered, pointing to the boxes behind the cashier's head.

The cashier just laughed at him. "You too, huh? What are you, their boyfriend or somethin'? Maybe their kid? Scrawny little thing."

Oh, he'll wish he never had a tongue to speak those words.

Feitan kept his cool, procuring a velvet bag from his person and set it on the counter with a clank emitting from the contents of inside. "I have money."

The cashier's mouth opened in a greedy smile. He quickly retrieved the 5 month supply Feitan requested and put it in a bag.

"That'll be 100,000 Jenny."

Feitan smirked under his cowl. He reached into the bag, seemingly to pull out money, but instead of coins, the cashier's outstretched hand was met with a mini hammer. The sickening crunch of bones could be heard as the man howled in pain.

"Oh? Big man can't handle small hammer?" Feitan taunted, his eyes crinkled in delight at the man's suffering. The cashier tried to reach for a gun he had stashed behind the counter but Feitan was much too fast, grabbing his wrist and turning his arm the wrong way so that, too, was broken. The cashier couldn't get a word out, instead crying out with tears running down his face.

"Don't cry to me about it." Feitan mocked the worker by using his own words against him. The shorter man hummed a bit, thinking of what to do next. He needed to finish up quickly or else he'd lose track of you and end up having done this all for nothing.

Well, this wasn't all for nothing either way. He needs to make sure he practices his methods often so he doesn't lose his edge.

Feitan grabbed the bag containing the medicine and cleaned up his own bag of tools while the cashier was lying on the floor, writhing in pain and ready to pass out. He gave him a strong kick before turning toward the door.

"Good luck getting all that fixed at hospital. If you can afford it."

You were walking down the street, dejected and unsure of what to do when you felt a nauseating presence appear behind you. You turned around to face a short man with a skull face covering offering you a bag. Naturally, you were hesitant to take it, but he nudged it to you again.

"Medicine. For you."

Your eyes widened in surprise. Did you hear the soft spoken man correctly? You tore open the bag and saw multitudes of your medicine within.

"5 months. Go get better job or learn to steal."

You went to thank him but he was already gone, disappearing like a ghost. You were thoroughly confused but at the same time, extremely grateful. You stood on the street corner in a daze until the sound of screaming could be heard somewhere close to you.

"Someone please help! This cashier's been seriously injured!"

You whipped around to see a woman running out from... the pharmacy? What exactly had that man done to get you what you needed? You were ready to run away from the scene so you weren't questioned as a suspect when you caught a glimpse of your savior once more, watching you like a hawk from the rooftop of the building next to you. He put his finger to where his lips resided under his mask, a signal to stay quiet about what happened, as he let out a short maniacal laugh and disappeared from your sight.

Feitan finally realized why he decided to help you that one day. There were many people in this world he'd gladly see rot to death and then rot even further after that.

But not you.

No, you were much too attractive to be a corpse so soon.