#I can't find any better images which is annoying

[ch33z3grits]

Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson

summary: Terry shamelessly gathers allies and information to pursue Camille behind the scenes. Camille, no matter how hard she tries, can't help but develop a crush on Terry.

warnings: 18+ mdni, dark romance, manipulation, smut (male masturbation and p in v), obsessiveness/possessiveness, mentions of witchcraft, angst if you squint, stalking, breaking and entering, mentions of drugs and alcohol, AAVE, use of n-word

word count: 7,778

a/n: thanks again for all the comments and reposts on the last part! The reposts are fucking hilarious but idk how to respond to them if I even can 😭😭 but I appreciate the interactions fr. Ngl this is long lolll but enjoy :)

glossary

The Veil: the dark magic that enhances supernaturals’ ability to manipulate the human world

Terry’s song: No Heart-21 Savage | Camille’s song: Next Lifetime-Erykah Badu

Pt. Three

Terry

Terry had forgotten how annoying popularity could be. It had only been two weeks since he first onboarded with Watkins & Grant, yet he was already the firm’s shining star. His work ethic was constantly praised, as was his effortless charm when conversing with anyone. Every day, without fail, someone would drop by his office to shower him with compliments. He would laugh, a practiced chuckle that never failed to sound genuine, and put on an act of humble appreciation, making sure to make them feel special in return.

But as the days passed, Terry found himself increasingly irritated by the constant recognition. His colleagues, eager for his attention, bombarded him with social requests. Happy hours, family dinners, sporting events, casual coffee chats… invitations were always extended to Terry. He knew the drill all too well. Terry had mastered the corporate dance long ago, and he understood that maintaining these social ties was essential for his professional image. But despite the strategic benefits, the sheer volume and frequency of all those social engagements were draining his patience.

What bothered him most, though, was the growing realization that these endless interactions weren’t getting him any closer to the one person he actually wanted to see, the one who mattered far more than anyone else in the office.

In the past few weeks, Terry's interactions with Camille had been way too brief and far too professional. When she got in, she would quickly pass him in the hallway, squeaking out a small but warm "good morning" before Aston would lock her away in that fucking office of his. Their exchanges always left Terry feeling hungry for more. When those tiny moments weren’t enough to satisfy his craving for her, he’d find some bullshit excuse to walk down to her side of the office—grabbing a snack from the kitchen, admiring a different angle of the building’s view, or simply claiming he needed to stretch his legs. Each time, he’d sneak a glance into Aston’s office, and there she would be. Head down, furiously typing away or scribbling notes, working far too hard for Terry's liking.

Meanwhile, Aston would be making his rounds around the executive wing, greeting everyone with a hollow smile and kissing everyone’s ass but Terry’s. Terry wasn’t offended at all. The less he had to see the motherfucker’s face, the better. But he was going crazy trying to survive off his little interactions with Camille, watching as her professional life consumed her. Terry had to find a way to get some more time alone with her. Which is why a few days after he started, he was staying after hours to bend Stephanie Hodges, the secretary for Mr. Grant, over his desk.

After observing the social dynamics of the office, Terry discovered that Stephanie was one of the most influential people at the firm. At first, her interactions with Mr. Grant appeared strictly professional, nothing more than typical, formal exchanges. But Terry’s keen perception saw the subtle signs that hinted at something far more… inappropriate beneath the surface. He watched closely, noticing how Grant’s gaze would linger on her just a bit too long whenever she was near. Terry caught how Grant sniffed the air whenever she walked by, as if intoxicated by her presence. And whenever Stephanie wanted something, all she had to do was bat her lashes and throw a flirtatious smile at him. Every time ended with her getting exactly what she wanted and she would walk away with a triumphant smirk.

The professional relationship between Grant and Stephanie was nothing more than a carefully constructed facade. On Grant’s end, he was having an affair. On Stephanie’s end, she was enjoying a sugar baby arrangement. This knowledge solidified Terry’s understanding of her power and potential value to him, which he could leverage to his advantage. All he had to do was pull her into his orbit, which didn’t take much. Stephanie made her intentions very clear. She would come by his office every morning, making unnecessary small talk in a sultry tone. She would bend over to give him a perfect view of her ass or she would shove her cleavage in his face when she needed to show him something. Terry wasn’t particularly interested in fucking her. Stephanie was attractive, but office hook-ups often got messy, and Terry couldn’t afford the drama. But, Terry had no problem obliging her if it got him closer to his end goal. So if he had to fill her up with dick after everyone went home for the day in exchange for a few changes around the office, that didn’t bother him one bit.

“T-Terry, oh fuckkkk. F-Fuckingg...cu....c-cumming again,” Stephanie whimpered, her face pressed against the Mahogany wood of his desk. Terry rolled his eyes as he pumped his full length in and out of her with punishing strokes, feeling her pussy clench around him. She had came for the fourth time and all she could do was moan, shriek, and babble out incoherent sentences. The experience was much more than he intended. He didn't mean fuck her this good for this long. But his nut was taking longer than expected due to Stephanie’s high-pitched moans irritating the fuck out of him. And she kept fucking squirming. Frustrated, he firmly slapped her ass, causing her to cry out as the sound echoed through his office. “Stay still,” he hissed. “Damn!” 

He closed his eyes, trying to think of a way to make this more satisfying for him. An image of Camille bloomed in his mind, her face slack with pleasure, her mouth forming an ‘O’ shape. “Mmmm Terry, please.” The imaginary Camille moaned. “Please, please cum for me.” 

That got Terry across the finish line. His hips stuttered as he thrusted into Stephanie to the hilt and barreled into his orgasm. "Fuckkk," he groaned, pushing Stephanie flatter against the surface as he emptied his load into his condom. He pulled out of Stephanie quickly, the absence of his cock nearly making her slip onto the floor in a dick-drunk daze.

Good, he thought. Just how I need her to be. He discarded the condom in a nearby trash bin before sitting in his desk chair. He pulled her into his lap to soothe her as she caught her breath. She panted as she stared at him, a lazy smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

“Where have you been all my life?” She giggled, running a finger over his chest. He internally cringed, but his exterior played into her ego. “I could ask you the same,” he chuckled. She flipped her fiery red hair and laid her head on his chest, pleased by his comment.

“You know,” he started, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve been watching you since I first started here and I’ve noticed that you’re the only one who gets everything they want. I mean, it's no surprise considering how beautiful and magnetic you are. But, how do you do it?” She laughed, shifting herself on his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Well Mr. Richmond, I’m not afraid to ask for what I want.”

“Is that so? I need to learn your ways. Because there is something that I want. Well, someone rather,” Terry let out a defeated sigh. Stephanie stiffened in response, making him smirk. “Wow, Mr. Richmond, someone else has caught your eye already?” Terry clutched his chest, feigning shock.

“You’re mistaken, Stephanie. I don’t mean it in that way.” He stated, looking into her eyes and petting her hair. He watched as her jealousy transformed into curiosity. “I guess you could say that I’m dealing with a little professional jealousy.”

Stephanie raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What do you mean?”

“Camille's work ethic...I’m seriously impressed. The way she handles McCoy’s caseload, how she keeps the whole thing from collapsing under the weight of it all, it's something else. I don't have it as bad as he does, but I wouldn’t mind a little of that magic working for me. But…McCoy likes to keep her close. I mean, I get it, she’s his fiancée, after all." Terry tried to keep the bite out of his voice as he mentioned Camille’s engagement status. "But still, it feels a little…unfair, don’t you think? An associate gets to keep a paralegal like that all to themselves, and here I am, a visiting partner, left to do it all alone. I’d ask Grant or Watkins about it, but the whole ‘fiancée’ thing just makes it…tricky.”

He watched as the gears practically turned in Stephanie’s head, hoping he planted the right seeds. She tapped her fingers against his chest as she continued to think. “Well, I could always bring it to Mr. Grant’s attention. You’re right, it doesn’t make any sense for Aston to have more privileges than you.” Bingo.

Terry held back a sinister smile. “Really, you would do that for me? Would that even work?”

Stephanie’s cocky smirk returned. She sat up in his lap, her green eyes staring into his. “Of course! You said it yourself. I can get anything I want around here. Let’s test that theory.” She leaned in for a kiss, which Terry rewarded her with.

Hours later, just past 2:00 AM, Terry stood in the shadows outside of the luxury apartment building where Aston lived. On one of the rare nights when his colleagues hadn’t asked him out for drinks, he had followed Aston home, committing the address to memory. He returned the night after to watch the building closely, noting every detail. The concierge’s shift changed at exactly 2:00 AM. A handful of residents would collect late-night food deliveries until about 2:30, and the custodial staff took smoke breaks sporadically throughout the night. He had studied the rhythm of it all. Terry knew the patterns, knew the cracks in the schedule. He just needed the right window to slip through.

Tonight, he was prepared. Dressed head to toe in black, he ran his fingers over the leather gloves and ski mask tucked in his pocket. He wouldn’t need them just yet. But soon enough, they’d serve their purpose. For now, all he had to do was wait for the door to open. His eyes snapped towards the front entrance as he heard the grand door creak open. A cleaning lady, holding a pack of cigarettes, looked around momentarily. Convinced that no one was there, she grabbed a stone from a nearby bush and tucked it between the door and door frame. Then she walked a few feet in the direction opposite Terry, lighting a cigarette. Terry silently stalked towards the door, watching to make sure she didn’t turn around. He quickly slid through the open door, making sure it was propped open just like the woman had left it.

Once inside, he walked confidently over to the concierge sitting at the front desk. The man, who was busy doing crossword puzzles, stopped momentarily to see who was approaching him at such a late hour on a work night. Terry flashed a casual smile. “Hey, how are you doing tonight,” he spoke, placing his forearms on the marble counter separating them. The older gentleman looked at him with slight suspicion, but still engaged. “I’m fine, how about yourself?”

Terry let out a concerned sigh. “Actually, I'm not doing too well. My friend called me earlier, said he had a little too much to drink tonight and got himself into some trouble! I was just trying to check on him, but he won’t pick up. He only gave me the access code to the building, but I don’t know which room he’s in.”

The concierge paused, eyeing Terry with suspicion.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the man stammered. “But there’s nothing I can do.”

Frustration buzzed beneath Terry’s calm exterior, but he kept his voice steady, leaning in just a fraction closer. "Are you sure? I’d really hate to think something bad happened to him…” His words hung in the air, sharp with unspoken pressure.

The man’s gaze flickered, unease creeping into his eyes as his focus faltered. Terry inwardly groaned, knowing he would have to take matters into his own hands. He leaned in further, his fist tightening subtly, his focus sharpening. Swiftly, he conjured up the dark magic of The Veil, feeling it unfurl around him.

Terry watched with dark satisfaction as the man’s pupils dilated, his posture straightening rapidly. All emotion drained from the man’s face, signaling to Terry that he had control now. “That’s better,” Terry chuckled. “Now, bring me the master key and tell me what unit Aston McCoy is in.” Without a word, the concierge turned around and stumbled towards a room behind him. After a few moments, the concierge, moving like a brainless zombie, brought him a golden key fob and a slip of paper with ‘Aston McCoy, 608’ scribbled across it. Stuffing the items in his pocket, Terry gave the concierge another glance. “Stay right here and don’t talk to anyone.” Then, he pivoted towards the elevators.

Once inside, he slipped on the ski mask and gloves before using the key fob to get access to the sixth floor. He smiled when the doors slid open and stepped out into the hallway. Conveniently, the unit was only a few paces from the elevator. After approaching the door that displayed ‘608,’ he held the fob over the door’s keypad, and stepped inside once the door softly clicked.

Terry knew it was twisted. Breaking into his colleague's apartment to find the best, most personal way to ruin his life was abhorrent by human standards. But he wasn’t human. He hasn’t been human for centuries. So he didn’t give a fuck. Aston McCoy was the one thing standing in the way of him getting his hands on his prize.

Holding her.

Taking care of her.

Fucking her.

Worshipping her.

He vowed to move heaven and earth to have Camille all to himself. So if he had to pursue a little breaking and entering to set his plan into motion, so be it.

Terry's footsteps were silent to the average ear as he sauntered around the luxurious loft. He gazed at the expensive minimalist furniture, carefully curated wall decor, and the artificial plants that were strategically placed in the living area. The entire space lacked any trace of personality. Sterile, boring, and safe. The signs of a young white man who desperately wanted to be taken seriously and belong in the upper echelons of society. Terry smirked and shook his head. Throughout his long, long life, Terry had run into men like Aston at every turn. It was pathetic how they shaped their entire lives around getting more power, more status. Slave owners, military officials, mob bosses…white men who had the world at their feet but were always at the risk of slipping and falling. All it took was one blow from Terry and they were tumbling to the ground. Aston McCoy would be no different.

Although he found the apartment amusing, Terry grew irritated as he stalked through the space. Every drawer he opened, every closet he rifled through, only deepened his frustration. There were no signs of the vices he’d come to expect. No bottles of liquor tucked away in hidden corners, no baggies of coke stashed carelessly in drawers, no anonymous flash drives filled with illicit secrets. Nothing. Terry scoffed, feeling his eyebrows push together as he approached the last doorway in the apartment. McCoy’s bedroom. He entered the room lazily, expecting further disappointment. But his eyes widened as they settled on the central point of the room: the bed. On the left side, McCoy was bundled under a mountain of covers, his hair peeking out at the top being the only indication that it was him. But on the right side… laid Camille, looking like an absolute angel. Her body was completely exposed due to her fiancé's selfish hogging of the covers. McCoy’s actions at any other time would have Terry seeing red. But instead, they accidentally gave Terry the most pleasant and mouth-watering surprise he could have hoped for tonight.

Camille laid flat on her back, the side of her face perfectly highlighted by the moonlight pouring in as she snuggled into the crook of her arm. Her gorgeous dark brown skin seemed to glisten in the moon’s glow, asking, begging to be licked and sucked and marked. She was mostly bare, wearing nothing but a satin hair scarf and a satin nightgown that dipped dangerously low into her cleavage and hiked around her waist. Terry's focus on the task at hand faltered as his dick turned to stone. His tongue darted out of his mouth to moisten his lips hidden under his mask. Desperate to give himself some form of relief, he palmed his growing bulge through his sweatpants as he moved closer to Camille’s side of the bed. With a better view of the slumbering princess, Terry's eyes wandered to Camille’s pussy, tucked away from his sight by a lacy white thong, a present he ached to open. As if in a trance, Terry crouched down to run his gloved thumb over the waistband of Camille’s panties, careful not to awaken her.

You have no idea what you do to me, he thought, hooking a finger into the lacy fabric. His eyes snapped toward her face as he began to slowly tug the garment down. He was halfway down her thighs when she stirred, whimpering lightly. Everything in him froze except his dick. His dick jumped as the sweet sound echoed in his head. Camille’s brows furrowed momentarily, but her face relaxed and her eyes remained closed. Terry waited a beat to make sure she was still asleep. But his cock, heavy with excitement, beckoned him to continue removing her panties. So as swiftly as he could, Terry pulled the small fabric over her knees, down to her ankles, and then carefully slipped them past her feet. In a frenzy, Terry tugged the ski mask below his mouth and pulled the souvenir to his nose, inhaling deeply. Drool slid past his lips as he breathed in her scent. He held back a feral rumble in his chest, feeling his eyes flicker from their usual blue-gray to a deep red. Now isn't the time to lose control, he thought, suppressing the darkest parts of himself. With a shake of his head, he tucked Camille’s panties into his pocket, sending another shockwave through his lower region.

He backed away from Camille’s side of the bed, his eyes never leaving her enchanting face. He was just about to cross the bedroom’s threshold to walk back into the living area. But he heard the slightest vibration from the left side of the room. Terry cocked his head to the side and zeroed his focus on the phone on McCoy's nightstand. What kind of notifications could he be getting at two in the morning? He swiftly moved towards the phone, gently picking it up. He flipped it so the screen faced him and began to read the series of notifications. Banners from DraftKings, FanDuel, Prizepicks and other betting apps displayed several different messages:

Bet $20 and get 3x back on earnings!

Hurry now to get $1000 in casino bonuses!

Bet now, get instant deposit on all earnings!

Terry chuckled lightly, his eyes flickering to McCoy and Camille to briefly check if they heard him. They hadn’t. So you’re a gambling addict huh? He grinned widely as he glanced down at Aston. I can definitely work with that. Terry carefully returned the phone to its original position. Then he crossed the room once more, returning to Camille's side. He hummed slightly as he softly gripped her right leg, adjusting it to give him a perfect view of her now exposed pussy. Camille sighed slightly, shifting onto her side, unknowingly moving closer to Terry. Terry smirked, kneeling so his head was at the same level as hers. “You’ll be all mine soon enough,” he whispered, hoping that his words slipped into her dreams. She sighed in response, still in a deep slumber. With a final scan of her face, Terry pulled his ski mask back over nose, shoved his hands into his pockets, and turned to leave the bedroom. He grinned wildly as he began to conjure up the most sinister and wicked ideas to get Camille into his arms and into his bed.

He exited the apartment, carefully locking the door back into place. As he rode down the elevator, taking off the gloves and ski mask, he slightly chastised himself for not already knowing that they lived together. He guessed it never crossed his mind considering that they drove separately. And the address on her driver’s license didn’t match this building. Maybe she moved in with him recently, he thought.

Once the elevator doors opened, he looked toward the concierge’s desk, seeing that the man remained in the exact same spot. Terry approached the desk, placing the key fob in front of him. He would discard the paper with the apartment's information later. “You’ll be released from this spell in about ten minutes and you won't be able to remember the events of tonight. But before then, I need you to put this back exactly how you found out, and delete the security footage from the past hour once I walk through the front door. Understood?” The empty shell of a man nodded, already reaching for the master key. Terry turned toward the door and walked out, not bothering to look back.

Rather than feasting on one of the blood bags that stocked his fridge or sinking his fangs into one of his casual partners to end his night, Terry sat in his king-sized bed as he gripped his heavy dick, Camille’s thong hanging halfway out of his mouth. The garment muffled the groans in the back of his throat as his right hand jerked up and down his shaft and his left hand held his phone displaying a picture of Camille he found on her sister’s instagram. She stood in a bathroom, wearing nothing but a white robe and silver jewelry. One side of the robe hung off her shoulder, giving a teasing view of a breast he desperately wanted to lick. She looked up at the phone provocatively, her tongue peeking between her lips.

Terry was practically choking his cock as his hand gripped up and down his length, lotion and precum mixing together to give him the perfect amount of slickness. His hips bucked as he imagined her tongue dragging over the length of him from base to tip, flicking over the slit of the mushroom head. And the residual taste of her essence flooded his taste buds, making his head damn-near spin. With a few more thrusts into his fist, he released a guttural moan as warm, thick ropes of cum landed on his torso and hand. He panted softly, chest rapidly rising and falling as he came down from his high.

He pulled her panties from his mouth, using it to clean up his seed, before placing the fabric on the altar sitting across from his bed, which held an intense love spell he had been meticulously maintaining for weeks. Framed photos of her, capturing moments of her beautiful smile and radiant laughter, were abundant. Beside them, candles glowed softly, their wicks anointed with domination and seduction oils, each deep red flame flickering with an almost sentient desire. Protection wards, drawn in ancient symbols connected to The Veil, surrounded the space like a silent, invisible force, ensuring her safety from any harm. The display was an intricate ritual, a carefully crafted tribute to Camille, meant to pull her closer, to weave her into the very fabric of his world. Every detail was deliberate, every element chosen with painstaking care. All of this—his devotion—was for her, and her alone.

He gazed at the picture on his phone once more and shuddered, his semi-erect dick standing at attention once again. But even though his mind beckoned him to masturbate once more, his supernatural hunger gnawed at him. He had been ignoring his desire to feed for the past few days, prioritizing more pressing matters. But now, he was almost at a point where he could lose control. And he couldn’t go into work tomorrow and accidentally feast on a coworker. So, with a final glance towards his magical workings, he pulled on a pair of pajama pants and stalked towards the supply of O-Negative waiting in his fridge.

Camille

Camille woke abruptly from the sound of her alarm, groggier than usual. She already wasn’t looking forward to the day, considering that it started poorly. Aston woke her up around 4 AM, horny and in the mood for a quickie, which she reluctantly gave in to. He had already taken her panties off anyway. But it was rushed and unfulfilling. Aston had rolled after two minutes, falling back to sleep after reaching his peak. But Camille wasn’t so lucky. She tossed and turned for hours, her dissatisfaction keeping her alert. And of course, her vibrator was dead, leaving her with nothing to get her off.

Before her mood could sour even more, she threw off her covers and headed for the bathroom. Dreading the work day ahead, she went through her morning routine. It wasn’t just the workload that was getting to her. Ever since Aston found out he didn’t make junior partner, he’s been…stricter. Meaner. A tad bit bitter. He’d grown increasingly harsh with her work, constantly second-guessing her decisions, and questioning the few moments she took to breathe between the demands. And it wasn’t just the office that had become tense. At home, the smallest things seemed to set him off. Camille chalked it up to him having residual disappointment from Terry having the role he wanted, which she completely understood. She saw how he poured his blood, sweat, and tears into Watkins & Grant, yet it didn’t seem to be paying off. And although she gave him grace, she couldn’t deny that he was hurting her feelings often and she was beginning to burn out.

Giving herself one last look in the mirror, Camille hoped that something good would come out of the day. Something to break up the monotony.

At least, she thought with a small sigh, there was Terry.

She hadn’t fully admitted it to herself, but Camille was developing a crush on the new addition to the firm. And she often fixated on their interactions. Their exchanges, though brief, had become the highlight of her mornings. The way he would give her a quick, almost nonchalant ‘good morning,’ accompanied by that wide smile. It was nothing out of the ordinary. He offered the same greetings to everyone else in the office. Yet, every time their eyes met, her heart would skip a beat.

Once she got to the office, that moment she always looked forward to happened like it always did. Terry passed her as she came into the office, giving her that signature smile and quick ‘good morning.’ Camille savored the moment briefly, inhaling his passing trail of cologne. But she refocused and continued to Aston’s office, mentally preparing herself for the tasks she had to handle by close of business. She pushed open the glass door and made her way to her desk, feeling Aston’s eyes track her, his phone pressed to his ear. When his call ended, he softly called out to her. “Good morning, Millie.”

“Morning,” Camille replied, refusing to look up. Aston sighed, sitting back in his chair.

“Look baby, I know I haven’t been the best company these past few weeks. And, I’m sorry. It’s not fair to you at all.” This made Camille look up, meeting his gaze. “And I know the work has been hard. I… I’m just going through something, baby. And while that’s no excuse, I want to thank you for being so patient with me.”

Her eyes softened. “It’s okay, baby. We all have our off moments,” she said, sympathy laced in her tone. He smiled and blew her a kiss, making her giggle.

“You mind us taking a long lunch today? We can go get your favorite,” he suggested, making her perk up. Camille rarely got to go to O-ku, an elevated Asian fusion spot about twenty minutes from the office. She felt a little bit of her stress melt away, feeling moved by his apology. “Yea,” she smiled brightly. “I’d love that, Aston.”

“Great,” he returned, leaning deeper in her direction. “Let me make a reserva–” An abrasive knock on the door interrupted him. Camille’s eyes dragged towards the source. Mr. Grant, not waiting to be invited in, stepped inside.

“Aston, Camille. I’m glad I caught you two,” he said curtly, shutting the door behind him. Aston sat up straighter at the arrival of their guest. Of all of the executives, Mr. Grant was the harshest, and he was rarely impressed. As a result, he always had Aston on edge when he was around.

“Now I know this may be a sensitive topic, and honestly that’s because Charles and I let it go on for far too long,” Mr. Grant said definitively. Aston and Camille exchanged a glance, neither of them having a clue what he was talking about. Aston cleared his throat. “I’m sorry sir, but what are you referring to?” Aston asked.

Mr. Grant sighed, looking around the room awkwardly. “It’s time for you two to start separating.” Camille swallowed. Aston clenched his jaw. “With all due respect sir, Camille and I, we have a good system in pla-“ Mr. Grant cut him off promptly.

“I’m aware, Aston. And the firm appreciates how well you two work together. But this arrangement…it looks unfair to the rest of the team.”

Camille knew that working together would eventually come back to haunt them. They only got away with it for so long for three reasons: One, Aston was notorious for taking on more cases than anyone else, making extra help a necessity. Two, the McCoy family had contributed generously to Watkins & Grant charity events, which kept the firm a little more lenient on their setup. And three, Mr. Watkins, a hopeless romantic, had been all too eager to make sure their relationship survived in the high-pressure world of law.

For the past two years, their colleagues had turned a blind eye. But it was clear now that the situation had become an issue for others. Mr. Grant continued, “Charles and I talked it over this morning and we agree that it’s time for the distribution of the paralegals to become more equitable.”

Mr. Grant's focus shifted solely to Camille. “Now Camille, we don’t want to thrust you into a completely different workload, so we’ll just put you under one other colleague for now, just so you can get your feet wet.” Camille nodded, honestly feeling a little excited.

“But, we still want to push you and make sure you remain challenged, so we’re not going to put you under another associate. Instead, you’ll be working under Terry,” he stated.

Camille’s heart felt like it might jump out of her chest. She was going to work with Terry? She didn’t know if she’d be able to take it. What if I embarrass myself in front of him? What if I mess up his cases? Aston interjected, displeasure obvious on his face. “Mr. Grant, she's never worked with high level cases before or a different portfolio. Don’t you think this might be too big of a leap.”

Mr. Grant flicked his hand dismissively. “She’s been stellar so far, I can’t see her falling too far away from that. And don’t worry, we’re going to add another paralegal to your rotation,” Mr. Grant was obviously not going to be swayed. He turned back towards Camille. “Camille, quickly gather your things. We’re going to hop on over to Terry’s office and see if we can finalize a new schedule for you.”

Aston looked at her, visibly upset. But what could she do? Say no to their boss? She put her laptop and notepad in her work tote, then stood to follow Mr. Grant out the door. She walked quickly to keep up with him as they moved through the office. Once they got to Terry’s door, Mr Grant's demeanor did a 180. His no-nonsense pout turned into a small smile as he knocked on the door.

“Come on in,” that velvety voice made Camille’s thighs clench. Mr. Grant stepped inside with a bright smile, Camille following closely behind. “Terry!” he exclaimed joyfully. “Working hard or hardly working?”

Both men shared a laugh as Terry rose from his desk. They continued to joke amongst themselves as Camille swayed nervously, looking everywhere but at Terry. Their laughter died down and she could feel both of their eyes on her.

“How you doing, Camille?” Terry chirped, forcing her to meet his gaze. His head was cocked to the side, a playful gleam in his eyes. “I’m doing fine Terry. How are you?” She responded, unable to help her smile.

“I can’t complain, I can’t complain,” he said, staring at her intently and biting his lip absentmindedly.

Goodness, she thought. This man is going to be the death of me.

“It’s good to know you two are acquainted,” Mr Grant starts. “Terry, I wanted to drop by with a proposition. We know that you’re doing just fine on your own. But Charles and I wanted to give Camille an opportunity to work on some higher level cases and experience some topics outside of McCoy’s portfolio. Do you mind taking her under your wing?”

Terry’s eyebrows raised, his smile deepening. “Not at all. I’d be honored.” Camille quietly let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Mr. Grant chuckled at his response.

“Well great! I was thinking about her rotating between you and McCoy. Is three days with you and two days with him alright?” Terry nodded. “Absolutely, as long as Camille doesn’t mind.” They turned to her expectantly. Her cheeks burned as she spoke up. “That sounds great!” She said. Aston is not going to like this...at all, she thought.

“Great,” Mr Grant finalized. “I’ll leave you two to work out the details,” he said, backing towards the door. “By the way Terry, are we still on for golf on Sunday?”

Terry chuckled, leaning against his desk. “Yes sir, I wouldn’t miss it.” Mr. Grant smiled again, chuckling as he walked out of the room. As the door shut, Camille watched as Terry’s eyes focused on her, as if he was studying her.

“Damn, I don’t think I’ve seen you for more than five minutes since my first day,” Terry said, crossing his arms with a playful smirk. Camille felt a flutter in her chest but masked it with a grin, shrugging her shoulders. “What can I say? I’m always pretty busy.”

“Oh, I know.” Terry pushed himself off the desk, his eyes never leaving hers as he stalked toward her. Camille froze, the warmth of his proximity hitting her like a wave. Focus, Camille. Focus. His scent lingered in the air, making it hard to think. “Every time I pass McCoy’s office, you’re always buried in work.”

Camille let out a soft sigh, averting her gaze. She envied how her coworkers could wander the office freely while she seemed chained to her desk. “Yeah, it does get a little overwhelming sometimes.” She glanced back to find Terry watching her intently, an unreadable expression in his eyes. Sympathy flickered there, but something else too.

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that with me.” His voice softened, the smile that spread across his lips sending a shiver down her spine. “I promise to keep your workload interesting, but light. That’s why your first task will be spending a day out of the office… on the firm’s dime.”

Camille’s breath hitched, her pulse skipping a beat. He can’t possibly be serious. But when he reached into his wallet and pulled out the Amex card that Watkins & Grant only gave to its partners, she knew he was.

“Terry, that’s… that’s so sweet,” she murmured, her voice betraying her. She shifted on her feet, feeling conflicted. “But I can’t accept that.”

“Really?” His voice dipped, teasing, but his eyes never left hers—holding her in place. “Should I tell Grant you’re already giving me problems?” The playful edge in his tone made her stomach flutter, and despite the tension in her chest, she bit her lip, trying to maintain control.

“I just… I would feel guilty. I’m supposed to be helping you, not taking time off,” she said, her words softer than she intended.

Terry tsk’d, stepping closer, holding out the card toward her like a quiet challenge. “But you are helping me,” he said with a wink. “You’d be clearing your mind, so you’re ready for my cases.” Camille swallowed hard, knowing he had her cornered. No matter how she tried to protest, he’d always find a way to turn it back on her. With a reluctant sigh, she reached out and took the card.

“Okay,” she murmured. “But what am I supposed to do all day?” Terry shrugged casually. “Whatever you like. But if you need to feel productive, you can always swing by the Law Library and do some light research on intellectual property or impact investing cases.” His gaze lingered on hers just a moment too long.

Camille chewed her lip momentarily. “Alright, that sounds good.” Terry leaned back, a triumphant expression crossing his already smiling face. “Great. Before you go, you want to set anything down in your office?”

Her office. Not just a small corner like in Aston’s room, but a full, independent space all for her. Camille’s lips curved into a grin as she allowed herself to feel the thrill of this new chapter. Terry led her across his large office towards a door on the far side of the room. His hand reached out to press it open, holding it wide for her to step inside.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as she entered. The room was everything she hadn’t realized she was hoping for. Bright and spacious, equipped with a sleek wooden desk that already had a desktop on it. Behind the desk, a plush-looking office chair awaited her, a welcome contrast to the aesthetically pleasing yet stiff chairs in Aston’s office. Around the room, a few plants and decor added life and personality, filling the space with a sense of freshness—giving the room an almost personal touch.

“Do you like it, Camille,” Terry asked, her name rolling off his tongue almost making her swoon. She gazed up at him with a grateful smile. “Oh, I love it, Terry,” she gushed, stepping into the office further. He let out a deep chuckle, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m glad that you do. I’ll let you get settled. I’m gonna join a call soon, so you can just step out when you’re ready to go.”

“Okay,” Camille said, still admiring the room. With a final sigh, she placed her work bag in the office chair and grabbed her wristlet from the inside. She carefully placed the company card inside and grabbed her keys. As she left her new sanctuary, Terry silently waved her over to him, his phone pressed to his ear. He handed her a piece of paper with a number scribbled across it. “Call or text me if you need anything,” he whispered, before returning to his call. She grabbed the paper with a smile, noticing that her grumpiness from earlier had completely disappeared.

Terry

Terry had to give Stephanie credit. She worked fast. He didn’t expect Camille to be moved to work under him the very next day. But he definitely wasn’t complaining. When Grant brought her into his office, Terry’s heart skipped a beat, a momentary jolt of surprise. She entered the room like a breath of fresh air, her presence enough to make everything feel lighter. But Terry quickly masked his reaction, his cool demeanor slipping back into place.

As much as he wanted to keep her in his presence for her first day with him, he could tell she was feeling drained. Her shoulders curled forward. Her blinks were longer, more fatigued. And her smiles weren’t reaching her eyes like they usually did. Terry felt a need to take away that burden, if only for a day. He wanted to give her a chance to breathe, to relax without the pressure of deadlines. No work. No stress. And definitely nothing related to Aston. Just a day to herself. He would make sure of it.

Her reaction to her first work “assignment” kept replaying in his mind. She was so reluctant at first, probably thinking that a day out of the office with his business card blurred the lines of professionalism. But with some pressure, she gave in, letting excitement overtake her. It was precious.

It had only been three hours since she left, so when a knock on his door pulled him from his thoughts, he arched an eyebrow. Is that her? Back already? He called out, “Door’s open,” getting ready to tease her for returning so early.

But the guest at his door was the person he least expected to see: Aston McCoy. He entered the office with a tight-lipped smile, closing the door behind him. Terry returned a similar expression.

“Terry, good to see you!” Aston appeared genuine, but Terry knew better. “Aston, long time no see. What can I do for you?”

Aston’s eyes darted around the room, clearly searching for someone. Terry watched him with quiet amusement, knowing exactly who Aston was after.

“Is Camille around?” Aston asked, his voice dripping with false casualness. Terry grinned, picking up the small ball on his desk and tossing it from hand to hand.

“Nope,” he said nonchalantly, “She’s been out for a while on her first assignment. Probably won’t be back for a few hours.” Aston’s expression flickered for just a moment, confusion clouding his features.

“Her first assignment… outside the office?” he asked, clearly caught off guard.

Terry’s response was a lazy nod, his tone condescending as he addressed Aston like a child. “Mmhm, I thought it would be good for her. Camille looked so tired today. I'm sure you, of all people, noticed.” He watched with satisfaction as Aston’s eyes narrowed just slightly.

“Yeah,” Aston muttered, “I guess she was. She’s been working really hard lately.” Because you’re incompetent as fuck, Terry thought bitterly, but kept his face pleasant.

“Exactly,” Terry said, his grin widening. “So I figured she deserved a little break. A real one, not one of those quick lunch-hour escapes.” The air between them thickened, the underlying animosity barely hidden.

Aston's forced smile returned. “Well,” he said. “Did she mention anything to you about lunch? We were supposed to go together.”

Terry's chest tightened, a twinge of jealousy going through him. He leaned back in his chair, still tossing the ball casually. “Nah. You should probably call her.”

Aston hummed, a low, almost frustrated sound as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” he muttered, shifting his gaze to the office, looking around with wonder. “You know, this is a really amazing office,” he sighed.

Terry leaned forward slightly, taking the opportunity to be petty. “It really is! Maybe one day, you’ll have one like it.”

Aston visibly stiffened, his smile cracking, just for an instant. Terry resisted the urge to laugh.

Aston opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Terry’s door opening. Stephanie waltzed in like she owned the place, her eyes settling on Terry. “Aston,” she greeted dismissively, not even bothering to look in his direction. “Terryyyyy, are we still going to lunch?”

Terry nodded, feeling annoyed by her flirty tone. “Yes ma’am.”

He gave Aston a final look. “Anything else I can help you with?” he asked sarcastically. Aston gave him another forced smile. “No, that’s all.” Terry grinned, “You have a great day then,” dismissing him.

Terry watched as he turned on his heel to walk past Stephanie and finally leave his office. Bitch ass nigga.

Camille

Camille let out a contented sigh as she drove home from work and reflected on her day, feeling better than she had for a long time. After leaving the office, she started at the law library, eager to dive into research and take her time with it. She moved leisurely through the shelves of law books and case archives, feeling the rare luxury of not being rushed. The peace of it all was almost meditative, and she reveled in the quiet rhythm of flipping through pages and making notes.

But after two hours, she'd exhausted all the references she could find. Knowing Terry wouldn't be pleased with an early return, Camille decided to take a break at a nearby park. She settled onto a bench, letting the crisp air declutter her mind.

When she grew hungry, she texted Aston, suggesting they meet at O-ku. After forty minutes of silence, she figured he'd probably gotten caught up with something. No matter, she would enjoy her own company. She treated herself to a happy hour special, savoring each bite and sip as she gazed out the window. It was then that her eyes caught a glimpse of a charming flower shop across the street. The idea struck her suddenly, some fresh flowers for her office would be a nice touch. But would it be appropriate to buy herself flowers using her boss’ card? Technically, she thought, they wouldn’t be from Terry, they would be from the firm.

With a gorgeous arrangement in hand, she had made her way back into the office, feeling lighter as she set the flowers on her desk. Terry noticed her good mood when she returned his card.

“That's the Camille I like to see,” he chuckled, warming her heart.

As she walked into her apartment that evening, she felt as though the day had ended perfectly. Until she was met by Aston’s scowl when she entered the kitchen.

“Hey…,” she started cautiously. “Is everything alright?”

His lips tightened. “Something about that Terry asshole doesn’t sit right with me.” Camille’s jaw dropped. What could’ve happened at work today that would prompt him to say that?

“Woah, Aston. Let’s just take a deep breath, okay? What happened today?” she said, sliding into the barstool next to him. He glanced at her before glaring off into the distance. “He separated us on purpose.” His tone was definitive. Sharp like a razor. But despite his seriousness, Camille couldn’t help but let out a breathless laugh. His eyes snapped to hers, narrowing. Her smile faltered, and she instantly regretted it. She hadn’t meant to make light of it.

“Baby, that’s a little absurd, don’t you think? What would Terry even do that for?” she asked, confused on how he came to that conclusion. She rubbed soothing circles into his back. He placed his chin in his hand, looking deep in thought.

“I don’t know why, but I-I know he’s behind it,” he muttered, as if he was speaking more to himself than to her. “At first, I thought it was because he had a crush on you. But I went by his office and saw Stephanie drooling over him and how he entertained her. The way they were acting, they’re obviously sleeping together.”

Camille’s stomach dropped. Terry and Stephanie were seeing each other? How long had that been going on? A cold wave of shock and an unexpected rush of jealousy filled her chest. But these feelings were quickly followed by guilt. How can I feel this way? I'm literally talking to my future husband. I shouldn’t be jealous of a single man dating whoever he pleases, no matter how big of a crush I have on him.

To distract herself from her inner turmoil, Camille ended the evening trying, with no luck, to get Aston to abandon his theory about Terry. He couldn't possibly have been behind their new workflow, right?

------------------

@nayaesworld @slvt4her @writingsbytee @notapradagurl7 @23jammy @kaylaahisthebestest- @theogbadbitch @wabi-sabi1090 @hotgyalaroad @nubiagurllll @lovedlover @dimepiece09 @lavaniiii @simplyzeeka @susanhill @next-bex-bet @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @ranikyani @loveschrisbrown20 @daddyslittlevillain @blackchickinthedesert @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @hello-therree

lmk if i missed you!

[darqx]

Pick up the receiver I'll make you a believer

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

After doodling the first image that hug body slam meme immediately came to mind and i couldn't help myself 😂

Thanks very much I'm glad you are enjoying my art and characs! :D

To put the answer simply, Rire used to work for the prior King as a Collector (of souls) and he was that King's only Collector and so got the brunt of his ire for any related, perceived fault. Aside from that personal connection Rire also really disliked him because he viewed the prior king as a useless glutton who failed at ruling a sector (conditions were tanking/had tanked for ages), and which the Royal powers were wasted on.

Almost all of his sunglasses are actually normal human sunglasses, he can just see better than a human can 😎

Anything can be a kink, anon :d

Boring victims are often exceptionally weak-willed victims so that's something in particular he dislikes.

Yes he can play the piano and violin, and horseback ride and ballroom dance etc. Put it this way he has a lot of particular small skills that he picked up during his Earth visits so he could hide in plain sight with the upper echelons XD

Not like how a snake or cat hisses which is what I'm assuming you're implying XDDD He can't bite off a limb (his mouth ain't that big) but his teeth are very sharp so he can feasibly take a chunk out of someone or like, completely bite off something smaller (finger, ear...)

I havent added to it in a while (since I dont often find songs I like enough to actually download lol) but this is my current playlist for him in no particular order:

Anon, the fact you capitalised "Aliens" made me think of Xenomorphs and I had to immediately stop thinking 🤣

On a side note, I can't actually tell you either way because he hasn't encountered an alien (that isn't a demon or a human) lol. He'd probably initially treat an alien much like he would treat a common demon, if they are obviously not human, and then if he realises they are also not quite a demon this could peak his interest.

Pointing you in this direction because regardless of the canon answer this proves he could look good in one LMAO

Sorry to burst your bubble but no :d Though I suppose he could simulate the effect by reverting parts of them to their "liquid" state 🤔 DO WITH THAT INFO WHAT YOU WILL.

It is theoretically similar to a human's.

If you can remember his age then that is how old he is :d I'm not really like other creators who give their characs a definitive "birthday" down to the year, mainly because I don't often have set "time periods" in my stories lol.

His birth date falls somewhere between late October - late November though.

In the context of BTD; they just don't like each other XD Well I can't actually speak for Cain, but Rire not liking Cain is partly a riff on general angel/demon rivalry dynamics, and partly because Rire would see Cain as more of a threat since canonically Cain is way more OP than him.

Most of the time when i draw them Cain is also actively getting in Rire's space whilst Rire is actively trying to avoid him, so there's also that XD

It...depends. On which aspect of "ownership" you're implying. For those that he has deals with, he'd calculate what exactly the value of the deal lost would be and in this situation he'd likely write them off as Cain would be more annoying to handle then they'd be worth (he can always make more deals).

If someone was specifically marked by Rire, that's a different level of possessiveness and he'd actually try cos like

Hey guys some offence but why are some of you sending me asks formatted as if i were ChatGPT

Is there one for like, personal ambition or cunning or something cos I don't think he'd be any of those listed lol.

Rire doesn't have a mobile phone and he doesn't need one because he has a demon power that basically CCTVs all his citizens to himself. And really, if he wants to find you he'll find you.

He's somewhere in the middle of that scale through the sheer fact that he's been around long enough to see technology change and would've kept up with how to use things to blend in better, but also doesn't need to use the electronics to the point that he'd need to be an expert at it.

Is this cos Gato is Canadian cos I don't remember a country location being specified when we did it? |D Personally I figured most of the settings were in the US since the US has the most documented serial killers

Also sos no i dont anon, you'll need to either ask Gato or EP or dig through any of their lore posts they might have left.

Think kind of like Rire (he did learn a lot from her after all), but with a more Elizabethan era socialite vibe. Possibly a black widow but we dont have any proof about that.

Has/had a p good relationship. I use both terms because I still never decided whether she was currently dead or not lol.

Lol a misconception but Rire doesn't actually perceive humans as trash XD Trash suggests that he hates them and they wouldn't be worth regarding at all, whereas Rire usually finds them more like...novelties. Or like whatever that feeling that is associated with viewing ant farms or animals performing tricks is. Rire's mother would view them as more like working animals or livestock.

[0sbrain]

here's a list of mozilla add-ons for all of you tumblrinas out there to have a better internet experience

also, if you like my post, please reblog it. Tumblr hates links but i had to put them so you adhd bitches actually download them <3 i know because i am also adhd bitches

BASIC STUFF:

AdGuard AdBlocker / uBlock Origin : adguard is a basic adblock and with origin you can also block any other element you want. for example i got rid of the shop menu on tumblr

Privacy Badger : this add on will block trackers. if an element contains a tracker it will give you the option to use it or not

Shinigami Eyes: this will highlight transphobic and trans friendly users and sites using different colors by using a moderated database. perfect to avoid terfs on any social media. i will explain how to use this and other add-ons on android as well under the read more cut

THINGS YOU TUMBLINAS WANT:

Xkit: the best tumblr related add on. with many customizable options, xkit not only enhances your experience from a visual standpoint, but provides some much needed accessibility tools

bonus: if you are into tf2 and wanna be a cool cat, you can also get the old version to add cool reblog icons

AO3 enhancer: some basic enhancements including reading time and the ability to block authors and tags

YOUTUBE

Return of the YouTube Dislike : pretty self explanatory

Youtube non-stop: gets rid of the annoying "Video paused. Continue watching?" popup when you have a video in the background

SponsorBlock: gives you options to skip either automatically or manually sponsors, videoclip non music sectors and discloses other type of sponsorships/paid partnerships

Enhancer for YouTube: adds some useful options such as custom play speed, let's you play videos in a window and most important of all, it allows you to make the youtube interface as ugly as your heart desires. I can't show a full image of what it looks like because i've been told its eye strainy and i want this post to be accessible but look at this <3

PocketTube: allows you to organize your subscriptions into groups

YouTube Comment Search: what it says

FINDING STUFF

WayBack Machine: you probably know about this site and definitely should get the add on. this allows you to save pages and access older versions with the click of a button. while you can search wayback using web archives, please get this one as well as it allows you to easily save pages and contribute to the archive.

Web Archives: it allows you to search through multiple archives and search engines including WayBack Machine, Google, Yandex and more.

Search by Image: allows you to reverse image search using multiple search engines (in my experience yandex tends to yield the best results)

Image Search Options: similar to the last one

this next section is pretty niche but... STEAM AND STEAM TRADING

SteamDB: adds some interesting and useful statistics

Augmented Steam: useful info specially for browsing and buying games

TF2 Trade Helper: an absolute godsend, lets you add items in bundles, keeps track of your keys and metal and your recent trades, displays links to the backpack tf page next to users profiles and more. look it tells me how much moneys i have and adds metal to trades without clicking one by one oh may god

IN CONCLUSION: oooooh you want to change to firefox so badly, you want to delete chrome and all the chrome clones that are actually just spyware and use firefox

HOW TO USE MOZILLA ADD-ONS ON YOUR PHONE

if you already use firefox on android, you'll know there are certain add-ons compatible with the app, some of them even being made just for the mobile version such as Video Background Play FIx. while most of them are pretty useful, some more specific ones aren't available on this version of the browser, but there's a way of getting some of them to work

you need to download the firefox nightly app, which is basically the same as the regular firefox browser but with the ability of activating developer mode. you can find how to do that here. once you've enabled it, you need to create a collection with all the add ons you want. i wouldn't recommend adding extensions if the creators haven't talked about phone compatibility, but XKit and Shinigami Eyes should work

also, don't tell the government this secret skater move, but you can try using both the regular firefox browser and nightly so you can have youtube videos in a floating box while you browse social media.

see? i can block this terf while Rick Rolling the people following this tutorial. isn't that tubular?

[ipso-faculty]

I, an intersex autistic, want to complain about an autistic flag

This time I'm not complaining about using the white infinity symbol of the Métis. I wanna complain about this flag, made in 2021 by Autistic Empire:

This one upsets me as an intersex person. I get that the designers wanted to make a flag that's different from the neurodiversity flag, and that gold is a common choice for autism (Au = Gold).

The problem it's an icon on a solid golden yellow background, and that is Intersex Flag Territory.

For my perisex readers, these are intersex flags. The one on the left was made in 2013 by Morgan Carpenter so you'll hear people refer to it as the Carpenter flag sometimes:

A common technique in deriving flags for "intersex plus X" is to replace the purple ring with another icon in the same colour. Like these! (Note the intersex autism flag.)

So using the flag logic I'm used to for intersex flags, a rainbow infinity on a solid gold background means.... neurodivergent intersex!

I've talked to a few other intersex people who had the same reaction. It's kind of upsetting - intersex is so frequently invisible and sidelined at the queer table. My *emotional* reaction to the Autistic Empire flag has been "really, we intersex people can't have one thing?". (This is an emotional response not necessarily a rational response.)

Also annoying me is how Autistic Empire presents their 2021 flag on their Autistic Pride Day page beside the history that Autistic Pride Day started in 2005, which apparently gives people the idea that the Autistic Empire flag was created in 2005.

Best I can tell, this was the 2005 flag that Aspies for Freedom created. I know it was a rainbow infinity on a white background but I'm not 100% this was their design. (If you know please let me know!)

These oldest ND/autistic flags I can find with clear provenance are from 2013 and 2016:

The Autistic Empire design was created in 2021 by taking a 2016 neurodiversity infinity symbol design and sticking it on the gold background.

The prospect of solid gold backgrounds taking off as an autistic flag theme is scary to me. I've seen how queer Métis now have to explain that the Métis queer pride flag is not an autistic flag.

In my eyes, it fits into the greater trend of autistic flags being insensitive of other minorities' flags (see: the Metis flag). I think we as a community need to do better about this.

My fellow autistics I beg of you when doing flag designs: - google image search - has your idea already been used? Search the keywords you want before making a mock up - also text search on google and tumblr: <keywords> and <flag> - consult recommendations on how make an infinity symbol that does not look Metis - Wikipedia's list of flags by colour combination - once you have a mockup, return to google image search and this time search using the mockup - if you get feedback that your flag design is too similar to another group's flag, use this feedback. The person who is giving you the feedback might be upset, and if so, try to look past their tone and work past any defensiveness you may feel Edit to add: I'm keeping a list of autistic & ND flags that don't use the Metis infinity nor use a solid gold background here. If you know of more please let me know! <3

💛

[yuujispinkhair]

Sukuna gave up on love years ago. But somehow, your eyes and your smile are all he can think about. -> This is part of my Blog Anniversary Event. A sweet anon requested the song "Lovebug" by the Jonas Brothers.

Pairing: Modern!CEO Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff Word Count: 700 Warnings: Mentions of alcohol. Sukuna and Reader meet as business partners, and feelings spark between them. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact.

God, it's ridiculous!

Sukuna slams his vodka glass down on his desk, laughing and shaking his head. He isn't a sentimental person. He isn't one of those fools who let their emotions get the better of them. He knows love is more trouble than anything else, and he isn't chasing it anymore. He decided years ago to stop doing that. No, Sukuna hasn't been looking for love for a long time.

And yet, all it took was one business phone call followed by an afternoon and a dinner spent with you, and now he can't stop this weird feeling from spreading through his chest. He sees your smile even when he closes his eyes. He still smells your perfume even though it can't linger on his skin after such a short moment of holding your hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss it.

It is highly ridiculous. And irresponsible. And foolish.

He swore off love. Swore off everything that could tear down his walls. And he is good at this, brilliant even. No one can see beneath Itadori Sukuna's mask of arrogance and indifference!

And yet your eyes looked at him with that knowing look. As if you could see right through him. As if you knew.

You treated him differently than the others. Your eyes didn't stray to his expensive watch or his car keys. You didn't order the most expensive meal off the menu when he said he would pay. You didn't act mysterious or slutty or any of those other things the others did, who were always so calculating, so desperately trying to fit into the image of the perfect doll, not realizing that it only made them seem fake.

There is nothing fake about you. You didn't hold back your laughter during dinner. You didn't worry about smearing your lipstick while eating. Your makeup was light, and the eyeliner applied a bit crookedly. It made his heart do a flip somehow. You didn't shy away from sharing a huge dessert with him, smiling and rolling your eyes in pleasure at how delicious it tasted. He had chuckled in genuine amusement and joy when you pushed a spoonful of ice cream towards him, telling him he simply had to try it.

So light. That's it. He feels so light when he is around you. It's as if all the small and big stresses of his busy CEO life just vanished into thin air, and instead, the sun is shining on him, and he can breathe in clear, fresh air.

He catches himself smiling as he thinks of how you snorted with laughter about one of his dry comments. Usually, none of those women laugh about his humor. And it's not just that you think he is funny. You replied with the same humor, making him laugh too.

He sighs and turns off his computer. It's late at night. Time to go home and get some rest. But not before he grabs his phone and types a quick message to you, thanking you for the lovely evening and wishing you a good night. He only hesitates for a small moment before he adds, "I would like to see you again. I know a place with even better dessert variations for two."

He is surprised by the smile he spots on his face in the mirrored walls of the elevator when he receives your reply, telling him that you would love to share a dessert with him again.

A catchy love song starts playing on his drive home. The type of song that Sukuna usually finds annoying and which would lead to him changing the radio station. But not tonight. Tonight, he lets it play, and maybe he hums a bit in tune with the melody. Maybe he feels a little fluttery sensation when hearing the lyrics about freshly found love.

Maybe all he can think of are your eyes and your smile and how good it felt to sit there with you and talk and laugh and not even realize how many hours had already slipped by, so caught up in his conversation with you. So caught up in your eyes.

He isn't someone who catches feelings easily. He thought for a long time that he had managed to become immune to all of this.

But does a man who is immune to falling in love hum along to a stupid catchy lovesong? Does a man who gave up on love smile to himself while he pictures your laugh?

Maybe the lovebug bit him after all. And maybe he is glad it did

Thank you so much for participating in my event! I hope you enjoyed this little story!! I am swooning so much thinking about spending a flirty business dinner with CEO Sukuna aww!!

Comments and reblogs would be sweet!!

[zumek0]

draft 04; dostoevsky, f.

↪︎ fluff, fedya having a soft spot for his lover, reader is sick, gn reader, written with a fem reader in mind tho, references to irl dostoevsky’s life, surprise angst at the end, mentions of death.

↝ summary: when you become ill and are unable to fall asleep, he reads to you. the action feeling both familiar and distant to him.

You sneeze. Four times, actually.

You getting sick was highly inconvenient for Fyodor, as it prevented you from fulfilling your duties as a member of the Rats in the House of the Dead. He had to disregard plans and work his way around being down not only a member, but also the best assassin in the organization. Not to mention how it not only affected his organization, but also the Decay of Angels.

As annoyed as he was with the whole situation, seeing you in such a miserable state didn't bring him any kind of joy. On the contrary, he felt his heart hurt when he saw your teary eyes and heard your hoarse voice. Not that he would ever let you know that.

He stands up from his office set up and heads to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He can't concentrate, so he decides that he might as well check up on you. That is, of course, because he needs you to get better so you can get back to work immediately, and not because he heard you cough a little too much and a little too hard.

He places the glass on the bedside table. He hears you thank him weakly. "Are you okay?" he asks uninterestedly but scans your face for any kind of discomfort. "Tired..." you sneeze after you answer.

"Then sleep." He hands you a tissue, which you barely muster enough energy to take.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

Fyodor sighs and then leaves the room. Your eyes start tearing up again, this time because you want him to stay with you. The whole image is comical: a killer as cold and ruthless as you, crying miserably because their boyfriend wouldn't spend time with them? Even if someone were to see it with their own eyes, it would be hard to believe.

Fyodor returns to the room with a book in hand. The cover torn and creased from the passage of time. It is Fyodor's favorite. Even if he rarely touched it, you knew he held a great fondness for that book in particular.

He lays down in the bed and looks at you expectantly. While your moves are slow, he waits patiently for you to make yourself comfortable against his chest. He opens the book on the first page.

"On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked away slowly..."

His soft voice and regular heartbeat lulled you asleep.

A young dark haired man lies kneeling at the foot of his bed. His head is hung low and his fingers are intertwined. After he finishes his prayer with an "Amen", he gets up and heads for his mother's room.

He enters quietly and finds his father already there, sitting on a chair by his mother's side. Her head turns upon hearing the door opening and a warm yet tired smile makes home on her face.

"Fedyen'ka." Her voice, although strained and tired, sounds happy to see him. "Come here, my angel. Your father and I have something for you."

He is given a book.

On a late night while talking to his mother, he had entrusted her with the knowledge of his passion for literature. Talking about some of the books he had managed to get his hands on, weather by acquaintances of his lending him some, or by the old man in the shoe shop who let him stay a couple of hours after his work ended just so he could read some of the books that he kept in the backroom of his store. That night his mother promised him that for his sixteenth birthday, she would get him a book of his own.

She had never broken a promise, yet there were still two months until his birthday. Fyodor understood at that moment that his mother was probably going to die before that.

A simple "Thank you." is all he could muster.

That night he was unable to sleep. His father went out to tend to some business, so the house would've been completely silent if it weren't for the coughs of his mother.

He gets out of bed, grabbing the book from the wooden dresser next to the door to his room. When he enters his mother's room, the coughing stops.

"Oh, Fedechka, did I wake you up?"

"No, mother." He takes a glass of water from a table nearby and puts it up to her lips. She takes a few sips. "Are you unable to sleep?" She nods.

He leaves the glass back on the table and grabs his book. His mother's gaze follows him as he moves to sit on the chair where her husband usually sat beside her. He opens the book on the first page.

"On an exceptionally hot evening early in July..."

She falls asleep with a smile on her face as she listens to her son's voice.

Two days later, Maria Fedorovna Dostoevsky would pass away.

Fun fact: i spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to understand which Russian pet names and nicknames are most common, just to end up not using any because in my head they’re already speaking Russian.

If you recognize what he's reading, ur hot. Ahhh I'm so in love with fedya, but i’m not sure if i like how this turned out...

— han.

[marvelousazula]

a little draft on how this AU could start (basically: people think Azula is being stubborn for not speaking to anyone, meanwhile her vocal chords are just terribly damaged – kinda want to write it in Azula's POV actually, but Katara's sorta my default for some reason). (buy me a coffee)

In every interaction of theirs, Azula was polite enough when she wasn't trying to kill them. Or trying to capture them, actually, in hindsight it didn't quite look like she was going for the kill. (She was too deadly, too efficient, for not having killed them if she wanted to.) Surprisingly pacific for a perfect princess soldier.

Which means Katara isn't that surprised by Azula good behavior in the asylum Zuko sent her to. She's more annoyed by how long it took him to bring her home, being stuck in a place where she was locked up in her room all day, forced to take teas to keep her malleable and with her bending weakened didn't seem like the ideal way to deal with yet another child soldier.

It's ironic, really, that knowing Zuko better is exactly what made Katara feel any sympathy towards Azula at all.

Knowing more of Zuko's childhood is also why she's here. It took not much convincing for him to believe that if Azula is behaving well, maybe she doesn't need to stay stuck in there. Reports say she's quiet and cooperative, there are group activities and she seems to tend to have a teamwork mentality – that explains why she's that good at strategy. The only issue is that she doesn't talk.

She never talks. Not even back in the palace, not to servants that have been around her her whole life. She silently acknowledges them, with nods and glances. There are no threats, and no fire, even after a few weeks and there's no trace of that chi-weakening tea. She's not even hostile towards her, and she had been expecting lightning in her face instead of a nod before Azula went on to do whatever she was going to do.

In one of her walks around the palace, late at night, Katara finds herself in that courtyard. It has been over a year, the ground is still scorched. It's disturbing to look at the grate and remember the chains – it's a weird feeling, knowing she did the right thing, stopping Azula, but feeling so bad for the way she did it.

The chains, the armor, had been deformed where Azula's fire touched. Fire hot enough to soften metal.

She blinks, fire hot enough to soften metal.

Firebenders aren't immune to fire, look at Zuko's face.

She's not surprised that Azula is up when she knocks at her door, the princess just frowns at her and tilts her head. It's kinda cute- what? She's quite expressive, actually, Katara had formed the image of cold and stoic, when Azula says more with her eyebrows than with her words.

"I want to test something, I-" this is something they should have checked, yes? Treated, like they treated the burns on her wrists and her chest and shoulders- "You can't speak. It's not that you don't want, or that you're this stubborn, you just can't."

Azula looks astounded for a second, like she expected nobody to notice it. She didn't seem to mind that people thought she was a stubborn brat, letting it slide and just being... a quiet presence. Like she was tired of fighting, of taking up space, like she wanted some peace.

You know, like she was exhausted from a life of being someone's pawn in a senseless war.

"Does it hurt? Your throat?" Azula blinks, like nobody has asked her if anything hurts- then she nods. "I can try to... soothe it a little. I can't really heal anything..."

Azula seems to calculate the risk of allowing someone to bend water on her throat, but maybe it hurts enough to be worth the risk. She nods, steps aside and allows Katara into the room.

Not in a million years Katara thought she'd be in the Fire Nation's Crown Princess chambers to offer her relief for her pain, but here she is.

The war is over, everyone deserves their pain to be soothed, their wounds healed.

[strawberryj0y]

the first time i saw this image was before i even read hiori's light novel and i remembering wondering what could possibly be the context of this image bc wtf is going on in the background and foreground LMAO like why are they in a tunnel??

and then upon finally finding out, it didn't make it any better jdfhgjhgsfjdgf [continued below]

bc what do u mean this is Krasu discovering Hiori was stalking him home after practice one day and purposefully lead him into a dark tunnel to catch Hiori off-guard and when asked for an explanation, all hiori can say is “No, uhm… I just wanted to know more about Karasu-kun’s ways.” and then they start flirting...............

sidenote, this is one of my faveeee passages from the light novel (see full passage attached at the end of this post), hiori is just so sweetly awkward and he just can't help himself when it comes to Karasu so he stumbles his way through this interaction and earnestly asks Karasu questions

to which Karasu is understandably confused as fuck at first sjhgfjhsgf but also hopelessly endeared bc he can tell Hiori's coming from a place of complete sincerity and genuine intrigue in Karasu as a person, he's just got zero idea how to go about it in a normal way LMAO

which is also why Karasu gives him honest responses, admitting to his own shortcomings and all Hiori can say is that he thinks Karasu's perfect jdfhsjfjhsgfjdgfj

and then Hiori's very happy to learn that karasu also plays videogames and Karasu's hitting him with philosophy for whatever reason* but hiori's eating it up and getting happy at finding yet another common ground with Karasu, despite how overall different they are

*(i have some ideas about why that might be, i'll make another post about this in the near future!)

The final line of this passage is just ughhhhhh (/pos) because Hiori just likes him so damn much, and it manifests in this bottomless curiosity. Hence why this scene starts with Hiori, being new to these feelings (genuine interest in another person) and being ill-equipped to deal with them in socially acceptable ways LMAO, attempting to follow Karasu all the way home to satiate this burning desire to know him. Know him how he seems to know Hiori.

I just adore how Hiori doesn't even try to hide it either; mainly bc I don't think there's an excuse/lie good enough to explain away his actions here lmao. He's just a painfully open book. Karasu with his keen observation skills can pierce right through most people's facades and right into their core, reading them with wonderful precision which is what makes his soccer playstyle so difficult to play against (as we saw through Isagi's experience in their first match together during third selection). But at this point, he doesn't even have to employ this skill of his because he just has to poke Hiori a little and he'll spill his guts out without hesitation. And here's the thing - he's happy to do so! No shame. No attempts to hide the embarassing parts. He just melts LMAO

And Karasu is also never really put-off by it. In fact, he willingly indulges it, and proceeds to share his own weaknesses and hobbies and the philosophies behind them. He willingly gives Hiori a glimpse into himself, his life.

Also, him going from scared to smirking at the chance to tease Hiori for observing him so intensely lately - only to then try to pass it off as being annoying and creepy yet still going on to indulge Hiori's personal questions is making me dizzy LMAO that's very Karasu of him tbh, all this push-and-pull. He has to compensate every pull (acts of bridging the gap between them) with a push ('idiot', 'creepy', 'annoying', 'what kind of question is that?' and answering it sincrely anyway, responding to hiori's 'you're perfect' with rationalisations of why he's not).

[caesariawritesstuff]

Crush

Summary: Every time the Riddler comes on the TV, you can't stand him. His face and voice piss you off - but when you find yourself in the center of one of his traps, you might just realize you like him more than you care to admit.

Content Warning: Awkward flirting, unrequited crush.

Word Count: 2.2k

● Ao3 ● X ● Retrospring ● Read on Ao3 ●

He was on the TV. Again. That irritating voice of his, like always, grating on your every last nerve. Knots twisted in your stomach and you glared at the screen, which Edward Nigma, the Riddler, had somehow managed to take over, broadcasting his face all across Gotham. Green question marks danced in the background behind him, illuminating your apartment in an ominous green glow.

“Listen up Gotham!” he cried. “All across the city, I’ve left a series of carefully crafted conundrums for you to solve.” He laughed, high-pitched and full of ego.

You rolled your eyes, rage rising up from your belly and spreading through your veins like wildfire. Already, you were drowning out the sound of his voice, you absent-mindedly reached for your remote to mute his ever-annoying voice. God, didn’t this guy have anything better to do with his time? With an angry huff, you snatched up your phone and hopped onto social media, only to find a thousand other Gothamites expressing their same distaste for the Riddler. Any man as obsessed with Batman as he was had some serious issues. Many Gothamites were using some rather choice words to complain about the interruption of their regularly scheduled programming, and you couldn’t help but laugh at a few of them.

Turning your attention to your own page, you wrote, Can’t this guy get a life? He needs a serious reality check. His ego is bigger than the Empire State Building! With one button, you sent the post off into the vast void of the internet.

Almost immediately, a dozen people began commenting on your own post, words of agreement flooding your screen. But as you watched more and more come in, one in particular got your attention. The profile image was of one single, green question mark against a black background.

And your brain is smaller than an ants, the commenter had replied.

You rolled your eyes. Of course, it was just another Riddler fanboy coming to jump to his defense. Gotham was ripe with plenty of those. But just as you were about to set your phone aside, a second comment from the same profile caught your eye.

If you want a better insult, I suggest using the Burj Khalifa. It is the tallest building in the world, but of course, your pea sized brain wouldn’t have known.

You frowned, cheeks burning. Your brain was not pea sized! Another dozen insults suddenly came your way, and you chewed on your bottom lip. Anxiety twisted in your belly, and even though people were jumping to your defense, the onslaught of creative insults continued to come at rapid speed. Quickly, you deleted your original comment and raised your eyes to the screen, relieved to see Riddler’s broadcast had officially ended.

Good, you thought, even if the insults still got under your skin, as anger rippled inside your bones. With an angry huff, you stood and headed to bed.

The next day, you found yourself walking through Gotham on your way home from work. But as you weaved your way through the trash-riddle streets, a strange feeling crept over you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up on end, goosebumps crawled along your flesh. The sudden sensation that you were being followed washed over you; glancing over your shoulder, you checked the streets, but saw nothing – at least, nothing out of the ordinary. You took a quick swing right, down an alley you always cut through to get to your apartment, when you saw it: a small box sitting on the ground, purple with green question marks on it.

“Oh no—” you said, but before you could even turn to run, the box suddenly opened, expelling a cloud of green gas. You coughed, eyes watering at the smoke filled your lungs – and everything went dark.

When you finally awoke, your limbs were stiff and achy. Your throat was scratchy and you struggled to prop yourself up, looking around at the shadowy room you found yourself in. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you managed to prop yourself up and look around the room. Darkness lingered in the corners, and you saw nothing in the distance – other than the simple fact you were inside a cage.

“Shit,” you whispered, pulling yourself to your feet. The room suddenly illuminated in a green haze, as the shadowy corners were lit up with question marks covering all the walls. You ran forward, wrapping your fingers around the iron bars; the space between them was too thin to squeeze through.

“So, you’re the one who said I have an ego the size of the Empire State Building,” a familiar, annoying voice suddenly came over the intercom.

Crap, you’d know that voice anywhere. The same one that came over the TV only the night before. Irritating and grating on every single one of your nerves. You searched the room, but between the ominous green glow and shadowy corners, it was impossible to tell where he might be.

“Let me out of here!” you yelled. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He let out a bored sigh. “Isn’t it obvious? You really have no sense of making your own conclusions, do you? And for your information, I don’t have an ego.”

Right. Of course not. Any man who hacks into Gotham’s TVs and broadcasts himself for everyone to see can’t possibly have an ego. With a shake of your head, you turned, examining the cage, only to discover that there were three podiums lined up one by one on the other side.

“All right,” you said. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I thought I’d run a little experiment,” he replied. “Since you’re clearly in need of some intellectual stimulation, I’ve prepared three riddles for you to answer. If you can answer them correctly, you go free. If you can’t, well…you’ll see.” A low chuckle escaped his lips.

Your skin bristled at his threat, face draining of all color. This couldn’t be happening – it couldn’t be. You squeezed your eyes shut, desperately hoping to wake up from this nightmare, but when you opened them, you were still in the same spot. Okay – deep breaths. The only way to get out of here was to answer the riddles. That was his MO, right?

You braced yourself and turned to the first podium, examining it. In bright green writing was a riddle, along with three buttons labeling multiple choice answers. Okay – so that was a good thing. He was going easy on you, giving you a chance. Maybe he thought you were too stupid to answer them without some level of guidance.

“I am easy to lift, but hard to throw. What am I?” he asked.

You studied the choices: Feather. Paper. Ball. “Uh…” you wondered, the word slipping out of your mouth.

“Tik-tok,” he said, his tone laced with impatient and condescending.

Your palms grew sweaty, your heart pounded in your ears. You swallowed, throat scratchy and dry as panic filled you. You had to choose – in case something happened – in an instant of pure terror, you slammed your hand down on the button for paper…but it immediately flashed red.

“Wrong!” he cried. “What a disappointment. Now, next riddle. What is full of holes but still holds water?”

Examining the next choices, one in particular caught your attention. Oh! A sponge. You clicked the button and sighed in relief when it turned green.

“Well, well, perhaps you do have some shred of intellect,” he said. “But lucky for you, that was one of the easy ones.”

Of course he had to rub it in your face that you got the “easiest” one right. Looking around the cage, you mumbled, “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Of course you are, my dear. Otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten caught. You wouldn’t have taken the same route you always do through that alleyway back to your apartment. At least take some effort to analyze your surroundings as you walk.”

You paused, his words washing over you. Wait…what? “Have you been spying on me!?” you cried, unable to contain the horror in your voice.

“Wait – no, of course not!” he cried, defensive and frantic. “I checked the surrounding security cameras near your apartment. That’s all.”

“So you were spying! That’s creepy! Don’t be a Peeping Tom!”

He sighed. “You haven’t forgotten my name already, have you? You do know the correct term would be “Peeping Edward”. You really are daft.”

There was a sudden, long pause that washed over you when you realized just what he’d said. In such a sarcastic tone.

“Wait,” he said, suddenly realizing what he’d said. “That’s not what I meant.”

You couldn’t help it – something inside of you broke. That utter hatred and irritation for him snapped, making room for the laughter escaping your lips. Your shoulders shook, unable to contain yourself as the sound poured out of your mouth. Warmth flooded your veins and you held onto the iron bars, resting your forehead against them.

“Wait, wait, wait!” he cried. “Stop laughing. That feeble mind of yours couldn’t possibly find humor in what I’ve said.”

Despite his protests, you couldn’t stop. You slid to your knees, ribs aching as the laughter continued. You couldn’t believe you felt this way, as if all the anger had suddenly disappeared and been replaced by something else entirely. A pounding in your chest, a fluttering in your heart.

A yellow glow suddenly filled the room, and you looked up to find a door on the other side open. Edward Nigma strolled inside, wearing cargo pants and a wife beater covered by a button down clad with question marks. His cheeks were flushed, red creeping up his throat, as he stormed over to the cage.

“Silence!” he cried. “We’re not finished here yet, remember? You still have one more riddle to solve.”

As you caught your breath, you wiped your eyes and managed to control yourself. Oh, right. You were still trapped in the cage. But no longer did you feel fear and hatred and irritation…instead you felt something else. A heavy beating in your heart; you met his eyes, blue and stern. Your cheeks warmed at the sight of him. He was more handsome in person than you expected. Your face flushed and you looked away shyly, not wanting to meet his eyes.

Oh no…this couldn’t be happening.

“Now,” he said, clearing his throat. “One last riddle. Or has your tiny brain already forgotten?”

“No,” you said. “I haven’t.” You turned your attention back to the third podium and glanced down at the green lettering.

I have cities, but no houses. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. What am I?

Three choices: Map. Space. Painting.

You hesitated, heart hammering against your ribcage. Not because of nerves this time – not because your life was on the line – but because he was watching you. Your every movement. Hesitantly, you clicked the “painting” button and it immediately flashed red.

He sighed. “You really are stupid.”

You spun around on your heels. “Wait – please give me another chance!”

“I don’t do second chances,” he said, but as he spoke, he pulled a key from his pocket and slid it into the keyhole, unlocking the door. The iron bars swung open and he stepped aside, gesturing for you to leave.

You watched him hesitantly. “You’re letting me go?”

“You really are lacking in any kind of survival instinct, aren’t you? I’m setting you free and you’re not even running.” He raised his brows, a bored and disappointed look crossing his face.

Perhaps you should be, but you didn’t want to run. You were far more interested in taking the time to watch him a little longer…your blood raced hot, and a nervous lump formed in your throat that you tried to swallow. You suddenly couldn’t take your eyes off him: the toned muscles of his arms, the small patch of curly chest hair, the sweat dripping down his brow…

“Why are you just standing there?” he asked, brows furrowed. “You’re a hostage – act like one!”

“Sorry. Well, I just don’t understand why you brought me here and now you’re letting me go,” you said.

He sighed. “Because I was bored, and I thought you would make an interesting experiment, but alas, you failed my tests. And since I’m feeling generous, I’m allowing you to go free. See? I told you I don’t have an ego. Now you can run online to your little friends and tell them just how generous I, Edward Nigma, the Riddler, am. Now go. Before I change my mind.”

A small smile crept across your lips. With a shake of your head, you wandered out of the cage and past him, catching a whiff of musk and sweat and him. Heart thundering against your chest, you turned and stood on your tiptoes – and planted one kiss onto his cheek. He suddenly stilled, as if short-circuiting, before you pulled away and raced out of the hideout before he could decide to kill you.

And the next time he came on the TV, you’d make sure to savor the moment.

[yourlocallyneysimp]

Perfect Hoshino, Ai!

Genshin Impact x Ai!Reader

Characters: Lyney, Kazuha, Wanderer

A/n: I made this post mainly for Lyney to celebrate him coming out soon, but oh well.

!Slight Oshinoko spoilers!

Lyney ♡

You're both really similar! Although you both may be stars when performing, you both have another side you don't want anyone to see.

He finds your performances to be entertaining and they also give him ideas for his own!

He sees that you care a lot about Lynette, so he trusts you a lot. He would've honestly abandoned you a long time ago if you didn't treat his sister with respect.

You're also very beautiful to him. A perfect image. You deserve all the love in the world, whether that be on stage or behind closed doors.

Expect him to treat you like a princess! He will be a gentleman and is willing to listen if you are dealing with any 'issues'.

Kazuha ♡

He saw right through you as soon as he laid eyes on you.

He enjoys your performances, but he can't help but feel like your forcing yourself to be perfect all the time.

Every move, every facial expression, it's all calculated.

He honestly worries that you will be overcome with your false reality, but that is until he gets to know you better that he disregards that thought.

When he found out you had kids, he was surprised but didn't ask for any of the details since that would be too personal.

He thinks your kids are great, they don't cause trouble and he finds it adorable that they're both twins.

To be honest, Kazuha had become apart of this small family and you can't imagine it without him.

It doesn't matter if they aren't his kids. He will protect them and you with his life.

Wanderer ♡

He finds it annoying that no one sees through your false smile. I mean, come on! No one smiles like that 24/7.

When he confronted you about your fake personality, you only played dumb, which pissed him off a little. How could you keep lying to yourself like that and be okay with it?!

He watches your performances a lot. He doesn't want to admit that he's a fan because that would ruin his image.

He secretly loves when you sing though. To be honest, he might be one of your biggest fans out there.

Whenever the Wanderer does a task for Nahida, he would make sure to be extra efficient if you have a performance that day.

He just hopes that you will eventually stop lying to yourself and to the people around you. To be honest, you worry him a lot...

Ai is so pretty. ♡

[ravenstargames]

✦ Lost in Limbo Devlog #9 | 02.29.24

What is this?! Two devlogs in one month?! More likely than you think! This February has been very productive for me and the team, so let's dive right into it!

Ooooh boy, Raquel keeps knocking it out of the park! She managed to get done every expression for every LI, and I coded them all! Now we have our wonderful characters ready for their debut. We have been using the wonderful Image Tools for Ren'py made by the talented and hard-working Feniks, whose tutorials and resources save a lot of dev's lives every day! This tool has made everything a bit easier for newbies like me, hehe.

Here's a taste of our edgelord's expressions! 💜 They're kind of a cutie when they put some effort into it!

We also had our second valentine's day celebration art piece thanks to Kayden! Sadly with the reworked version of the demo, you won't meet Vycar yet, so we thought we could ask for his forgiveness by giving him a beautiful bouquet and reminding him how much of a sweetheart he is! 💜

Also, Raeya got a hair update!

So, we weren't completely satisfied with the way we portrayed Raeya's hair, so this has been a rework we were sure we wanted to make. At first we were just going to render it again, but we ended up working on it from scratch to better represent what we envisioned for her. We hope you like it as much as we do! ; v ;💜

As always, we are open to any critique or advice; we are white people who have the luck to be able to ask POC friends for their advice as we work, but the more the merrier! Don't hesitate to send us your opinion to our ask box or even our email, gamesravenstar@gmail.com!

When it comes to the background department, we have been making great progress thanks to Airyn, who is honestly leaving us with our mouths hanging open every time! Thanks to her, another background has been finished and another one is in the making, leaving only two backgrounds to be revised and approved!

I personally can't stop looking at this WIP! She understood perfectly what we wanted to portray just by looking at an old WIP we had, and this is what we have so far—and it's already amazing!

Allie has been OBLITERATING the script. As of today, I think we have almost gone through everything that needed to be corrected and discussing, and lord if the script doesn't look a 100% better after we put it in Allie's hands. The way she writes, the way she understands everything I want to say even when sometimes I don't even know myself—what a talented, inspiring and amazing writer they are. I know I may sound annoying at this point singing her praises endlessly, but if the script is in the state where it is now, it's thanks to her!

My programming adventure of the month has been a success, if I say so myself! I've coded the characters with aaaaall their layers, their expressions, the blinking animations, made some videos, and started coding the script. Step by step as they say; I've coded 18 pages, and there's, uh...142 more to go. Haha! *sobs*

BUT WE ARE GETTING THERE! We can see the light at the end of the tunnel! I can finally click 'new game' and read the script and see the stuff going on! YAY!

Some extras of the month—we are preparing a Casting Call to choose the voice acting talent that will hopefully give voice to our characters. The demo won't be fully voiced (it's impossible with the funds we have, which are...zero), but if we are lucky we'll use some of our personal savings to pay for at least a few lines for each character so you can get an idea of how they'll sound if we get funded! Raquel is preparing an art piece for the announcement, and I'm getting the document ready and asking fellow VA friends for advice :3.

Also, we have a new member here at Ravenstar Games! Some weeks ago Astro and I formally adopted our first kitty, 8 month old Riki, fulfilling one of our dreams. We got him from a feline association that works with volunteers and fosters cats who have been abandoned, cats they find on the street, and so on. Riki has been living with me since January, and he's a happy, long big boy who loves playing, cuddles, and sitting on my desk while I try to work!

Say hi to the Ravenstar family, Riki! 💜

A productive month full of accomplished milestones, excitement and new challenges! The team has worked so hard, and I've done my part too! We still don't want to get ahead of ourselves, but we have done a lot of stuff we were sure we wouldn't finish yet, and look at that! We are doing so well!

As you can probably tell, my batteries are starting to run low, so I'm going to leave this devlog here. Thank you all like always for cheering us on, for being here in this journey with us, and for all the love you send our way. Let's hope March is as amazing as February has been, for us and for all of you! 💜

[yukirayu]

hii! i am absolutely blown by your analysis of Taku and Madarame: To Heal and To Hurt, and it gave me alot more insight into how Taku is a great foil for other characters. i kept thinking about the CG artwork of Taku's painting. it seems like the vacancy of the center square might represent the removal of a webtag or even the eventual disappearance of Towa's past trauma which Taku tried so hard to suppress. do you have any thoughts on the painting as a whole?

Hi, I apologize for replying to this several months later. Sorting through my drafts/WIPs or the things I need to do in general got me rather distracted, to say the least, but I am committed to seeing this through.

Thanks so much of course for reading and liking the metas. I'm always glad to hear that others like it and that I've managed to get the message through.

Now as for my opinion, I will give the disclaimer that said opinion is greatly inspired by what this person said in their breakdown of the paintings, as well as an art I saw that did their own breakdown about what the red square represented.

If anything, I may as well be parroting what they said in the site, albeit with different wording; since as someone who has no experience in art, analyzing paintings isn't exactly what I'd call my strongest suit let alone something I have confidence in.

But true enough, the image does really give off the image of a medical patch that Taku is trying as hard as he can to keep intact by either reapplying or patching over with a new one... even if he can't keep truly contain the "blood" that is the pain and trauma left by Towa's past, or even Taku's own hurts that are both connected to Towa's ordeal and the tragedy that he had contended with alone (his mother and the debt he had accrued as a result of his family situation) even before Towa came along.

It might even represent how Taku has a hard time keeping his own troubles in check and is better (or at least more proactive and willing) at doing the same for others. Because try as he might, the cracks start to show (or bleed, in this case), partly because he's not good at lying or hiding things, and partly because there's only so much he can handle until he finally snaps from it all; hence why he has a darker side that manifests in his route, where the way the plot progresses makes things reach a breaking point for him.

That aside, from purely aesthetic point of view, it is relatively simple looking, especially when you compare it to the other paintings. Like I've said, I'm no artist myself, so I can't really give a good description of what I think of this and that painting without risking coming across as pretentious and such. But at the very least, I find it pleasing to look at because of its simplicity.

One other thing about it that I think is rather understated (as well as incredibly touching) is how it's the only painting that gets featured in the cover for the AfterStory drama CDs. I think that this is becase while it's a very apt visual reflection of Taku's guilt and burdens, which Towa knows very well with how perceptive he is (and it's even the focus of his Interrogations with Taku), it is also a representation of Towa's own longing for Taku the entire time the latter was in prison.

Heck, it even becomes a topic of conversation in the first track, which leads to one of my favorite moments between them:

Towa: You’re not going to ask me who’s the inspiration of those paintings? Taku: …No…  Towa: You’re not interested in knowing?  Taku: That’s not it…! But… Towa: But?  Taku: (slightly insecure) Of course I’m curious. I mean… who were you painting?   (Towa says nothing and simply chuckles at Taku’s cluelessness.) Taku: (flustered and annoyed) Hey…! Towa: (still a hint of laughter in his voice) Oh, sorry. I had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to figure it out, so I just…  Taku: …What do you mean by that? Towa: (moves closer to Taku) All those paintings, who do you think they are of? (leans even closer and answers in an affectionate whisper) Murase… Takuma.

It's really telling that after Towa paints something, he no longer really cares for it and doesn't mind whatever anyone else does to it. But this painting, he treasures it enough to keep it in Taku's apartment (or rather, their home, together).

That, and one other significant detail: when it comes to Towa's modus operandi regarding his painting, he only ever paints each model once, no exceptions. Why? Because he wants to capture the very first time his model's innermost desire is fulfilled; in other words, when their euphoria is at its apex. It's why he won't agree to a second time, since the impact is no longer the same.

However, the narration for Taku's Euphoria ending as well as some other lines from Towa in the drama CD made it apparent that while that painting with the white splotches and the red square is his magnum opus of Taku, there were countless other paintings and sketches that he made of the man.

His way of coping, of waiting for Taku to serve his time, to reflect and come back a changed man, was to reflect his memory and feelings for him on paper and canvas, over and over and over, each one definitely distinct from one another (even if we never get to see those other artworks).

So... there. I hope that I still made sense at the end of this post, and I really hope it was a satisfactory answer for you. Again, I am so sorry for the delayed response, but I really appreciate getting this ask. 🥺

[inkinmyheartandonthepage]

Family Induction

Day 26 of Flufftober and the prompt is "I can't find it." You can read it here on Ao3. And you can read the prequel here.

“I can’t find it,” Buck huffed, teetering into his closet on his one good leg. He had already knocked over several coat hangers, his jackets now a crumpled heap on the floor. He was too frustrated though to attempt to pick them back up.

“Careful,” Maddie said, drawing Buck back before he could face plant into his clothes by the belt loop of his jeans.

Buck hopped backwards, landing on his mattress with a bounce. He stared up at his sister with a pout. Her bruises and cuts curtesy of Doug Kendell had mostly faded, now easily concealed under makeup. They could almost pretend like it had never happened, if it weren’t for the bulky cast that Buck still wore around his leg. That had been six weeks ago, and Buck still had another two before he could ditch it.

“Now, what are you looking for?” Maddie asked, turning to survey Buck’s closet.

“My white button up,” Buck huffed. “It’s my only good shirt.”

Maddie turned to give Buck a fond look. “Evan. You don’t need to dress up for dinner. It’s just a barbeque.”

Buck flushed, looking down at his lap. “I want to look nice for your family.”

When Buck and Maddie had been released from the hospital, Maddie had insisted that Buck stay with her. She had her own apartment, whereas Buck was in a share house.

“We can recover together,” Maddie had insisted.

Buck wasn’t about to say no, not when his sister had finally come back into his life. Her boyfriend Chimney and his friend and co-worker Eddie (and Buck still flushed at the memory of calling Eddie whoa while high on hospital narcotics) had offered to collect some of Buck’s clothes from his home and bring them over to Maddie’s.

In the six weeks that Buck had been staying with Maddie, the 118 had filtered in and out of her home, allowing Buck to get to know them. Buck got to see firsthand the family that Maddie had found for herself.

Chimney, who not only doted on Maddie like she deserved as she recovered, fetching her food, and comforting her, but doted on Buck too. Doug had never liked Buck, had never tried to get to know him. Just thought of him as Maddie’s annoying little brother. But not Chimney. He asked Buck about his travels and about the garden centre where he worked. He joked and teased with Buck and brought him books to read. He always included Buck when they watched a movie and had even helped him in and out of the shower a few times when Maddie had returned to work.

Chimney’s captain, Bobby had come around with his wife Athena to make them dinners and had stayed to share the meals with them. Buck imaged that this is what it was like to have dinner with parents who actually loved you. Buck couldn’t even think of the last time he had sat down to a meal with his parents.

Bobby and Athena had helped Buck with his insurance and had helped let his job know that he would be off work due to injury, making sure that Buck still had a job to go back to once he was back on his feet. Bobby was kind enough to teach Buck some cooking tips when Buck had raved about his food, admitting that he mostly lived off take out.

Hen was like another big sister and immediately made Buck feel comfortable. She beat his ass at Mario Kart and told him wild stories about some of the calls they had been on, making Buck laugh.

The visits Buck enjoyed the most though were from Eddie and his son Christopher.

“We match!” Chris cried out joyfully when they had first met, indicating to the pair of crutches they were both using.

“Your way better at using them than I am,” Buck had grinned. “You’ll have to give me tips.”

Buck had always loved kids, but there was something about Christopher that was just so special. He was wicked smart, with a cheeky sense of humour and a sunny disposition. Chris didn’t treat him any different with a cast on, and either did Eddie which just made the man all that more attractive. It didn’t help that Eddie was sassy, funny, kind, and generous. He had quickly become the best friend that Buck had ever had.

The first time Eddie had invited Buck over to his house, he had been surprised.

“Come on,” Eddie had smiled at him, all loose and soft. “I bet your getting cabin fever being at Maddie’s all the time. Besides, Chris wants to show you all his Lego’s.”

If Buck wasn’t at Maddie’s, he was at Eddie’s and Buck had never found a place that felt like home more than the Diaz’s living room.

Buck had been invited to one of the famous Grant-Nash barbeques and Buck wanted to make a good impression on the family that Maddie had made herself.

“Evan,” Maddie said softly, drawing closer to Buck. She perched on the mattress beside him, taking his hands in hers. “They’re your family too.”

Buck shook his head. “Come on, Maddie, we don’t have to pretend,” he said quietly.

Maddie squeezed his hand tightly. “Who is pretending?” she demanded.

Buck shifted, blinking wetly. “Chimney is only spending time with me because of you.”

Maddie scoffed. “You met Chimney because of me but that doesn’t mean he’s forcing himself to spend time with you. Did you know he has been researching rehab for you so that once you get your cast off, he can take you? And asking what kind of things you like so that he can treat you after a hard session?”

Buck lifted his head up at that. “What?”

Maddie nodded firmly. “Him and Hen have already got recommendations for you through their contacts. They are going to let you choose which one.”

“But – but why?”

“Because they like you, Dummy,” Maddie said fondly. She brushed her fingers over Buck’s birthmark. “Ev, it wasn’t me who Bobby has been teaching to cook. Chimney said that Bobby spent his down time at the station looking through recipe books for things to teach you.”

Buck felt something warm bloom in his chest.

“And, okay, Athena was going mumma-bear on both of us,” Maddie admitted with a laugh. “But I have it on good authority she only does that to the people she loves.” Her smile turned into a smirk. “And Eddie certainly wasn’t coming around to keep me company.”

Buck ducked his head, cheeks flushing hot.

“And Christopher absolutely adores you,” Maddie continued. “And I can see how happy you are when you spend time with them.”

“I – I like the Diaz’s,” Buck said. “They’re the best people I’ve ever met.”

“They let you be yourself,” Maddie said quietly, a hint of sadness in her voice.

Buck had told Maddie one night as they were tucked up on the couch together about his life since he left her in Hershy. How he had travelled from place to place, just looking for somewhere to belong but had never quite found it. How he had friends, but there was nothing meaningful about them. How he slept with a lot of people but had never found love or had been loved in returned.

“I just want to be accepted,” Buck admitted quietly. “You’ve got this great family and – and – and I want that too. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“And you have it,” Maddie promised. “Yes, you met them through me, but they loved you before they even met you. You can ask them. I never stopped talking about you.”

Buck chuckled. “Yeah, uh, Chimney kind of told me.”

Maddie squeezed his hands again. “See. And I know it might be hard to believe right now but I promise you, they love you like I do.”

Buck nodded, blinking back tears.

Maddie soft smile turned sly. “Well, Eddie might love you a little differently.”

Buck nudged Maddie, letting out a went laugh.

“Now, I can find that shirt for you,” Maddie said, standing to her feet. She moved to Buck’s closet and reached inside, pulling out a blue polo shirt. She turned and showed them to Buck. “Or you could put this on and make Eddie droll over your biceps.”

Buck grinned, flashing Maddie a cheeky smile. “’suppose it will be pay back for watching Chimney drool over you.”

Maddie laughed, a pink flush spreading across her cheeks. “Yeah, well, I’m drooling back. He’s so cute!”

Buck made a face that had Maddie slapping him on the shoulder playfully. When Buck was finally dressed, Maddie helped him to her car, and they made their way to the Grant-Nash house.

When they pulled up to the home, Eddie and Chimney were waiting out the front of the house for them. When Maddie parked, she shot Buck a knowing look making Buck roll his eyes.

“Shut up.”

Maddie cackled she got out of the car.

Buck shoved open his door swinging his legs out. He got his good foot on the ground, the cast legged hovering slightly in the air. In an instant, Eddie was there, flashing Buck a bright smile.

“Hey. You guys made it.”

“Yeah,” Buck grinned back.

“Eventually,” Maddie teased as she opened the back door to retrieve Buck’s crutches. “We had some wardrobe issues.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Buck said to Eddie. “She’s crazy.”

“What does that make you?” Eddie asked, cocking his head to the side, smile teasing.

“Probably just as crazy,” Buck admitted.

Eddie chuckled, reaching out to grasp Buck’s hand. “Well, you know what they say about the crazy ones.”

Buck’s heart fluttered in his chest as Eddie heaved him up, a hand going to Buck’s waist to steady him as he gained his balance. When Buck had his crutches under his arms and was secured, Eddie shut the car door for him, and they made their way into the Grant-Nash home.

“Buck,” Bobby greeted warmly when they made it to the living room. “Glad you could make it. I’ve made that lemon and garlic chicken we were looking at the other day.”

Buck felt his mouth water. “Really?”

Bobby beamed. “It’s on the barbeque as we speak.”

“Hang on, you made food for Buck?” Chimney squawked, looking between Buck and Bobby. “But when I ask for fried chicken –“

“Or that Mongolian lamb,” Eddie added.

Chimney snapped his fingers. “Exactly! You say you don’t have the time. But Buck here asks, and he gets it? Favouritisms, really cap?”

Bobby shrugged, placing a hand on Buck’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. “He helps me in the kitchen and is willing to learn. When was the last time you two helped me in the kitchen?”

“Eddie got banned after he burned water,” Hen smirked as she drifted past, drink in hand.

Buck grinned as Eddie’s cheeks went dark pink.

“I thought we agreed to never talk about that,” Eddie hissed, shooting Buck a panicked look.

Buck caught Maddie’s gaze and she nodded at him, giving him a soft look, eyes sparkling.

In that moment, warmth flooded Buck and his breath hitched in his chest. Because Maddie was right, and he never should have doubted his older sister. This was Buck’s family too. He had finally found home.

[itspronouncedtessa]

The "English or continental" debate is problematic and ultimately detrimental to the community.

Every time I see one of these "are you one or the other" posts, polls, tweets (Xcreets?), blogs, vlogs, whatevers, I get so annoyed. Undies fully twisted.

So indulge me and let's get into this.

First things first:

This is not an attack on pickers or throwers specifically. Any knitting style is valid. If the end result is even, non-twisted stitches that you enjoyed putting together, you're doing it right.

That said, I have 3 major gripes with the concept of "English vs continental" knitting:

1. The terminology. The terms "English" and "continental" were coined during WWII, as continental is actually German and the English were (rightly, at the time) uncomfortable doing anything the German way, or admitting that that way could be more efficient.

As we're about 80 years removed from the war, it might be time to accept that neither is objectively better and that German isn't a dirty word. We can, and should, use English and German, or throwing and picking respectively.

2. It's exclusionary to new knitters. The whole picking vs throwing discussion has made it so that new knitters don't know there are other options. If you're new to knitting, you get the impression that these are the only two options and if you can't do either, you can't knit.

Not to mention that the overwhelming majority of patterns and instructional videos are written or made exclusively for English or German methods. Which means if you want or need to use a different style, you need the additional step and skill of translating the pattern to fit your method. This requires a certain level of understanding of the underlying techniques that new knitters don't have. (Which is why I prefer charts, but that's a whole different rant.)

3. It's exclusionary to experienced knitters who don't pick or throw. The term continental for specifically German knitting dismisses all the other non-German European styles.

An incomplete list:

Eastern, or Russian, where you purl clockwise instead of counterclockwise, mounting the stitch backwards and knitting through the back loop on the right side. Creates the same stitch, but can be so much smoother to execute. Also very useful if you're doing rows of YO, ssk, as it eliminates the need to reorient the stitches before knitting them together.

Norwegian, where you purl without the need to bring the yarn fully forward. This is hard to describe in words, so I highly recommend googling for a video on Norwegian purls. It's a game changer for rib or seed stitch.

Portuguese, where you tension the yarn at the front of the work, looping it over your neck or through a pin. My personal preferred main method. Super helpful for those of us who lack finger strength to comfortably tension at the back. Makes purling a breeze.

Irish or lever knitting. Done with straight needles and (mostly) one-handed. Extremely helpful for people with disabilities. Also one of the fastest methods. You should check out videos on this, the speed is magical.

Flicking (not exactly regional), which is right handed but instead of throwing, you move the right needle to grab the yarn. Also difficult to explain, so check out some videos on this, too. Its a very quick method with minimal wrist movement. If you have the finger strength for tensioning it's worth practicing this, as it's so quick.

All of these are valid techniques, most of them are from continental Europe, none of them are included in the question "English or continental?".

And all of the above doesn't even get into the non-western, non-English, non-European styles there must be around the world, that I can't find through Google, because the English speaking world only uses the above mentioned methods.

Also, knitters that use other methods than picking or throwing are wildly underrepresented in the community, giving the knitting scene a culturally very white, western European image. Knitting could be a far more inclusive hobby if we'd embrace all styles.

In short, we need to change the question to "tell me about your technique" and learn from each other. Combining multiple methods (I use 3 or 4 interchangeably, depending on the pattern) can increase efficiency and enjoyment. And if you're struggling in any way, there might be a technique out there that better suits your needs. Asking about English vs continental isn't going to provide that information.

So tell me about your technique, especially if you use or know of any knitting methods that aren't western or European, I would LOVE to hear about that. Let's share and celebrate all the ways we knit.

[zu-is-here]

Hiya! So uhm. I literally can't draw a simple base for shi- so I often use Bases I found online but. It gets very annoying because I then have to go and find the creator of that specific base and well i sometimes never find it which is very annoying. What I'm trying to ask is if you have any tips for how to make a simple body shape for beginners?

(also I love your art style and I hope to see more of your amazing artwork!)

Sincerely Azzu.

Hii Azzu!╰(*´︶`*)╯

I believe it's better and easier to use references not so much as a full base, but partly, as a guide for learning and drawing your idea correctly (since it's usually different from the found reference itself, right?) (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

If you intend to use the entire reference with no credits known, you can attach an image itself ✧

But as long as you don't trace or copy another artists' works, it's gonna be alright (*´∀｀*)

This tutorial may be useful, but I highly recommend to use a mirror and take photos for your own references ☆ Thank you so much, and good luck! <3

[the-morningstar-family]

How long till deer man is due

They do as told in the evening, writing down a schedule. They acquired a colourful board, white board like, so the content can be erased.

They wrote down the basics first. They decided on breakfast during 8:00, lunch at 12:00 and dinner at 19:00. Then added counseling for Felix (Thursday at 14:00). And then, reluctantly therapy, for Nova and Alastor. It will be Thursdays at 15:00 for both, same building but opposite doors in the hallway. Alastor needs something vastly different from Nova. Though the mental image of giving Alastor play therapy is admittedly funny.

They added a bathing day as well, which might be beneficial for Nova. Knowing she has a same day for hygiene, not the less-than-bare-minnimum hygiene she experienced in her earlier youth. He wouldn't be surprised that one or more of her scars had been superficial wounds that had gotten infected and only scarred because of that. By now, the schedule is nicely filled. But the demon still sits over it, going through it, to find any contradictions that would need changing.

Lucifer: “Al, come on, it's late. You have trouble sleeping as is, don't make it harder on yourself.”

Alastor: “I'll be right there dear…”

Lucifer gets up and gives the plan another once over as well.

Lucifer: “Hun, we just go through it this week. We'll notice if something won't work. It's like… a trial week. We'll Be fine, don't worry”

The radio demon grumbles under his breath annoyed.

Lucifer: “What was that?”

Alastor: “I can't just stop worrying! This is important -”

Lucifer: “Whoa- of course it's important. But stressing over it won't help”

He sighs dramatically, but relents, getting up from the chair.

Alastor: “Fine”

Lucifer: “Thank you”

The office chair has become much less comfortable. He rubs his back, the damn thing is too high. The king knows better than to comment, instead staying near just in case. The softer bed is admittedly much more comfortable.

Alastor gets out of his slippers, which are feeling uncomfortably tight. When he sees his feet- well no wonder.

Lucifer: “Oh- well those are swollen.”

Alastor, sarcastic: “Oh really? Hadn't noticed. Not unusual for 22 weeks, dear”

Lucifer: “Come on, put them up”

Alastor sighs but doesn't protest, slowly finding a comfortable reclined position, with his hooves slightly elevated. Lucifer reaches for them, but Alastor pulls slightly back.

Alastor: “What are you doing?”

Lucifer: “Foot rubs. Believe me. That's like fucking awesome. You'll feel less like a balloon”

His ego wants to protest but, he really does feel like a balloon. Ugh. Fine. He stretches his legs out and…. Oh, yes, that does feel rather good.

Lucifer: “Ha! Told you!”

Alastor: “Mhm- shut up and don't stop”

The king giggles. Meanwhile the deer's body loses some of it's tension.