#I say 'fear' very lightheartedly

[aggressive-almond-cookie]

hhhhhh I just got 10 splats in a game and that’s definitely a personal record but 3/4 of them were from ultra stamp and I don’t know how to feel about this. I have such a love/hate/??? relationship with this special. I feel like I can only barely control it and can rarely hit specific targets with it so I’ve learned not to rely on it for anything other than inking and being a huge distraction but every so often it just mows down the whole enemy team. apparently sometimes twice.

[theeoriginals]

klaus or elijah (your choice) x former flame!reader 👀

all i want | elijah mikaelson

+ Ohhh I loved your cat and mouse one! Could you please make a calm housewife/mom of the friend group type of girl and Elijah falling for her in a kind of best friend to lovers situation? Idk I just think it would fit cause elijah’s very family oriented and I see him falling for a dear old time friend too? Idk so uhm yeah. Feel free to refuse ofc!

elijah mikaelson x vampire!reader (no y/n)

author's notes; combining these requests :) hope that's ok!!

warnings; vague references to past violence but nothing insane. exes to friends to lovers, just plotless fluff, with an extra side of fluff. yes elijah is extremely charming, yes he can't make eye contact with a pretty girl. duality of man.

It’s an unspoken thing, what lingers between them still. Unspoken in the sense that they don’t talk about it, but everyone else does. 

It always shocks people to learn that the oldest vampires on Earth are ridiculous, catty gossips. Elijah doesn’t know why it’s such a surprise. Living as long as they all have, you’ve got to keep things interesting, otherwise immortality becomes mind-numbing. He supposes that it just doesn’t measure up to their reputation for being ruthless animals, which isn’t unfounded. It’s just not the only thing they could be classified as. 

Ruthless monsters that defend each other to the death at the end of the day, no matter how many times they’ve stabbed each other in the backs, certainly. Childish gossips that like to start rumors and rewrite history when they get a little bored, definitely. The two identifiers can coexist, and very much do.

And this thing, this unspoken thing that is unspoken for a multitude of reasons but none more so than the simple fact that even as long as they’ve known each other it’s still fragile, and something could break it with ease, is only unspoken to Elijah. 

His brothers and sisters, however, like to do nothing but talk about it. 

“Well, she’s almost here,” Rebekah rolls her eyes, but it’s just for the fact that her older brother is going to be a lovesick idiot the entire time the girl is here, and it really takes away from Rebekah’s own quality time with her. “No wonder Elijah’s been bumbling around like a fool all day.” 

Klaus chuckles, and the two of them dutifully ignore the glare their brother sends them. “Do you think she sent him a letter to announce her arrival? Elijah always loves things like that,” 

Rebekah’s blue eyes light up. “Oh, yes! I wonder if she sprayed it with her perfume– us ladies used to do that with a suitor back in the day,” She fans a hand towards her face, closing her eyes at the small breeze it creates. “They don’t text or call, of course, it takes all of the personality out of it. And god knows Elijah’s all personality,” 

Klaus laughs again, and the two finally glance across the room to where Elijah’s leaning against a wall, glaring at them with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“I hate you both,” He says, earning another round of laughter from them. “And stop going through my things, Rebekah. Those letters are none of your business.” 

The blonde girl pushes her lips out in a pout. “But I get so bored, Elijah. You can’t be mad at me for entertaining myself,” 

“I fear he just hates fun, dear sister,” Klaus says, feigning a wistful tone. “He doesn’t approve of my methods of entertainment either.” 

“That’s because your methods of entertainment always end in a bloodbath,” Elijah says accusingly, earning a shrug from the hybrid. “You’re both immature. A thousand years old, still acting like children.” 

Their faces twist in offense in unison, and Elijah distantly thinks that even though they’re not even fully related, let alone the same age even in their vampiric years, they were twins put on this Earth to terrorize him and ensure that he never knew peace. 

Before they can begin their outcries of dramatized offense, and Elijah can continue to lightheartedly mock them, a voice comes from the hall, echoing fondly. 

“Must you two always tease your brother?” The smile is obvious in her voice as she walks into the room, and the three of them snap their gazes towards the woman in surprise. “He’s a delicate soul, you know. His poor heart can’t handle too many jokes,” 

Elijah recovers quickly, rolling his eyes, though he can’t (and won’t) stop the smile from growing on his face as she meets Rebekah for a hug. “Oh, wonderful. That’s just what they need. Encouragement.” 

She chuckles at his poorly-feigned exasperation, and the sound settles in his ears like a morning dove’s song. She releases Rebekah from the hug and leans down to where Klaus is stretched out in a chair with his feet kicked up on the table, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Glancing around at the vaulted ceilings of the compound, she sighs wistfully. “I can’t believe this place looks the same as when you bought it,” She shakes her head in slight disbelief. 

Klaus shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. “When we first returned, there was some… cleaning up to do, but it’s maintained its shape wonderfully.” 

If she catches onto his double entendre, she doesn’t say anything, just nods in understanding. That’s something Elijah has always liked about her– she lets things go unsaid. She’s always had the ability to connect with him and his siblings in a way that most others can’t, and even when Elijah is at his worst, she’s been that olive branch that he can grab onto to bring him back to himself. Always so understanding and level. It’s a wonder that she still associates with any of them, given their penchant for chaos. 

Finally, she turns her attention onto him, and in its entirety he feels breathless. Even after decades of knowing one another, it’s never gotten easier to hide his ardor for her. He knows she can still read him as easily as she could thirty years ago, too.

“Elijah,” She says his name better than he’s ever heard it, with a tilt to her head and a fondness in her voice that makes him feel more alive than anything else he’s found in his centuries on this planet. 

She crosses the room to where he’s at, because he froze in his spot as soon as he heard her voice, and wraps her arms around him like she’s never been more relieved to see him. 

It’s another thing he’s always liked about her. She’s never stopped loving him. He knows that. Lives with it everyday. 

Regrets a lot of things, too. 

He says her name back as gently as he can, like she’ll break in his arms. He wonders if she thinks of all the times she has broken in his arms, and then he tells himself there’s no way she’s forgotten it, because he hasn’t. And that is something that is theirs and theirs alone. 

She pulls away and he misses her touch the moment she goes because it feels rarer and rarer with each day that passes. Every time she leaves, he fears it’s the last time he’ll see her. 

He doesn’t want to ruin her visit with these thoughts. Even though he knows she’d offer him endless comfort, he doesn’t want her to worry about him for a second. 

She turns to face them, clapping her hands together with a smile. “Well, then. What’s first on the agenda?” 

────── 

Something that comes with living as long as Elijah has is learning that some things about yourself you’ll just never be able to change. Such things like being a vampire in itself, having a firm hand when it comes to doing business with people. He’s been told he’s somewhat of a snake, and he’s well aware of his silver tongued ways, and it’s something he knows he can’t change, and hasn’t ever wanted to. 

One thing that has yet to fall under that category of acceptance is his jealousy. 

In his defense, he’s never jealous when he thinks he should be. He’s never been jealous of his siblings, spare for a few embarrassing months spent around the doppelgängers, but Elijah has never had to envy someone for something they had because if he wanted it that bad, he could just take it. 

But this. This he knows is jealousy, pure and unbridled, and nauseating, if he’s feeling that correctly. 

This is the jealousy that he’s seen destroy entire regimes. This is the jealousy that has driven his family to madness at times. 

And of course, she’s at the center of it all. Of course she is. There would be no other way he could feel this so strongly if she was not involved in it somehow. 

She’s the source of a lot of jealousy, he knows. He’s jealous of the carefree relationships his siblings get to have with her because they don’t have to be burdened with the feelings of the past that are most definitely still there. They don’t have to worry if they looked at her lips for too long, or if they held her a little too gentle to be considered entirely friendly. They don’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing, stepping past that line they so carefully drew in the sand for everyone’s sake. 

These are the consequences of his actions, he knows. It doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, though. It might make it worse. 

Watching his siblings drink freely as the band played on was nothing unfamiliar. Patrons had long since joined in on the fun, and he’s sure there’s a crowd outside looking in on the celebration of unknown origins. 

At the center of it all, she is there, standing on a table with a crowd of adoring admirers surrounding her as she swayed and moved to the music. He would swear there’s a light shining on her, just for her, projecting her shadow above everyone like some sort of angel. He thinks she has every right to be worshiped. 

And the reason he’s so maddeningly, bitingly jealous is because he is the reason that he’s not the one dancing with her. He can’t be the one to dance with her, and he can’t be the one that makes her laugh like she is because he’s the one that said they shouldn’t be together. He is the one who broke her heart, and he doesn’t deserve an ounce of the kindness she still shows. 

So all he can do is sip his drink at the bar and watch as she pulls his sister, sweet, dangerous, devastatingly insecure Rebekah, up onto the table with her and shares her spotlight with her. Making his sister light up like she does with no one else. Earning another round of cheers from Klaus and Kol as they watch on, demanding another round of drinks for everyone in an odd show of generosity. 

She brings out the best in his siblings. In him. 

It makes him burn bright inside. Boiling, hot to the touch. He knows then and there that there’s a reason he’s seen something as trivial as jealousy take down the most powerful of men. Love is such a dangerous thing to get involved in in the first place, but finding someone, finding the woman who makes you feel like you could conquer the world is something else entirely. It bypasses dangerous and heads straight into fatal. 

Because she makes you feel like you could conquer the whole world, but the second you lose her, it all means nothing. You’ll tear it all down if it means she won’t be there, too. 

And the worst part of it all is the only reason he feels like this is because he is the one that ruined it. Blamed his family, blamed his parents, blamed everything else but his own fears for the reason they couldn’t be together. The distance, the timing. Whatever he could grasp, he pulled it out of his pocket and gave it to her on a silver platter, served with a distant coldness he’d long since perfect, and never wanted to use on her in the first place. 

He had so much time under his belt, but he was such a child. So helpless it bordered on criminal, all because he fell in love and he didn’t know what to do with it. 

It’s embarrassing more than anything else. 

He hasn’t taken his eyes off of her since she started dancing. Hadn’t stopped listening since he heard her first laugh. Didn’t want to miss a single second, just in case. 

For the first time all night, he blinked and turned his head away from her and threw the rest of his drink back like it was water. 

He could allow himself a bit more wallowing. Just a bit. 

────── 

“Well, Rebekah’s safe in bed. I even got her in pajamas, believe it or not,” Her voice carries even in its whisper, and he looks up from his lap as she enters the small living space, hands clasped in front of her as she takes a seat in the chair beside him. “Original vampire or not, I doubt she’ll feel very good in the morning.” 

Elijah hummed, thinking of his dear sister and how even if she’d healed a thousand times over, she’d still find a way to complain. He adored it. 

“What about you?” 

He raises a brow, lips twisting confusedly. “What about me?” 

She gestures towards his slightly slumped form on the couch pointedly. He follows her direction, looking at his rumpled suit, and the white button up he’d undone the top four buttons off, at least. He feels momentarily embarrassed at his state of disarray but he simply huffs out a laugh, lifting his gaze to meet hers again. 

“I’m a mess,” He shrugs, earning a quiet laugh out of her. “But I don’t think that has anything to do with our drinking tonight.” 

“I can’t disagree, unfortunately,” 

He hides the way his grin threatens to split his face behind his face, rubbing along his scruffy jawline as he looks at her. The longer he lingers, the more she avoids his gaze. 

“What?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Elijah,” She intones, such a familiar adoration in her voice that it nearly makes him sick. He doesn’t deserve it. “You’ve been so quiet tonight. What’s on your mind?” 

“You,” 

Her eyes widen in shock at his quick, candid answer, and he has to hide his own surprise at how quick the word had shot out of his mouth. 

“Me? What about me?” 

“Everything,” He sighs, shifting his long legs so he could turn towards her and give her his full attention. “I’ve missed you.” 

“Oh,” She breathes out, looking slightly bashful. “Well, I always miss you. I wouldn’t ever leave if I didn’t–” 

She stops herself, covering her mouth with her hand as a sheepish look crosses her face. He knows she wants him to move past her slip up, but he doesn’t. Can’t. 

“If you didn’t, what?” He leans forward, looking at her imploringly. “Why do you stay away so long?” 

She takes a moment to collect herself, picking at the skin around her nails half-heartedly, like it’s not really bothering her, she just doesn’t want to be so open right now. He’d feel worse about pushing her if he didn’t feel like his heart was leaping out of his throat. 

“Well, I didn’t think you wanted me around that much,” She says quietly, gesturing towards him. 

He rears back like she’s slapped him. 

“How could you ever think such a thing?” He whispers her name, a distant veil of horror laced in his tone. Fear, really. 

“You said,” She says, face furrowing in confusion. “All those years ago– you said that there was no reason for me to stay here with you in New Orleans. So, I– I left. And I travel all the time until I come back here for as long as you’ll let me.” 

Elijah feels something gripping his chest and it feels remarkably like his heart is breaking. 

His voice breaks on her name and he leans forward again, reaching into her space to grab her hands in his. Allowing himself this piece of her that he simply doesn’t deserve. 

“I never,” He stops, breathing out harshly. “I never wanted you to leave. I just–” 

He stops again, squeezes her hands, and then steels himself because this is the least he owes her. 

“You deserved more than to be stuck here with my family,” He starts slowly. “I never– I never wanted you to leave. Every time you walk out of those doors, I want to chase you down and make you stay. You have to believe me when I say that I only ever wanted you to be happy, and you wouldn’t have found that stuck here in the mess we had made back then.” 

There’s a poignant silence that settles as she processes his words, and he holds the ragged breath that builds in his chest when she begins to drag her thumbs along the backs of his hands, smoothing at the skin there. Ever so gentle. 

“All I’ve ever wanted was to be here with you and your family,” She says, shaking her head like she’s scolding him, even though her tone is anything but. “Being here makes me happier than any place I’ve traveled to. And I’m– I’m truly grateful that you had my best interest in mind, Elijah, but you have to understand,” 

She trails off and an incredulous laugh leaves her lips as she smiles at him. “I’ve loved you my entire life. And my heart used to break every day knowing that I’d only have a short time with you. When I turned, I was so– I was so happy because I suddenly had the rest of time to be with you. And you… you broke my heart, Elijah. You truly did,” 

She presses her thumbs into his skin firmly, just a pressure point to punctuate her words. “But I have never stopped loving you. And every time I walked out of those doors and left you behind, my heart broke again. You wouldn’t have ever had to make me stay. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” 

Elijah’s breath stalls in his chest, and lets it out slowly, shakily. There’s a distant string of hope he lets himself pull on, just this once. Because she let him. 

He meets her gaze and smiles softly, just for her. “Will you stay, then? I’m– I’m asking you, truly. Will you stay?” 

She nods before he even finishes speaking and laughs quietly, the sound just for him. “Of course I will, Elijah. I’ll stay as long as you want me to,” 

“Forever,” 

“Forever, then. I’ll stay forever.” 

[cerise-on-top]

Hello!! How would tf141 react to a very sassy reader? Like sassing them out for no reason what so ever?

Hey! Like this, I think!

TF141 with a Sassy Reader

Price: He can appreciate some good sass, as long as it’s appropriate. God knows how often he’s been sassed by one of his soldiers, especially Gaz, so he doesn’t mind it, to some degree. You can sass him if you want, he’ll sass you back if he can think of a comeback that’s fitting. However, if you sass him for the sake of being mean to him instead of trying to get a good chuckle out of something, or maybe making a situation less dire, then he won’t be as appreciative of it. Don’t get me wrong, Price could shout at you if he really wanted to, but he’d much rather make you feel some guilt and remorse for inappropriate behavior. Although it’s fairly rare that happens, it will happen if you get on his nerves too much. Will then ask you if you think what you said was really appropriate in such a situation. You can then apologize still and all will be good as long as you keep your mouth shut. Once he’s calmed down, you can crack a joke at his expense again. Again, he’s used to such things as a captain, but keep it professional and stay polite, for the most part, and you won’t have a problem with him.

Gaz: He sasses you right back. He’s not particularly afraid of authority as long as they’re up for some good natured fun. So it really doesn’t matter if you’re above or below him rank wise. As soon as you open your mouth and some sass leaves it, he’ll immediately have thought of something to say in retaliation. I wouldn’t be surprised if you small sass battles could go on for a while. It’s a game to him, the first person that doesn’t know how to respond anymore simply loses, end of story. Will slightly mock you if you did lose, though. After all, you use such big words, and then you lose to him of all people? Surely, you can do better. It’s not impossible to out-sass Gaz, but he always has something stupid to say if he can, so it would take a while before you could properly beat him at his own game. He doesn’t give up easily either. Even as the conversation is about to be over, if he can think of something to say he’ll just say it. Sort of ends up looking forward to talking with you, sometimes he just needs to be a little shit who runs his mouth without any consequences. Sassing Price sometimes brings consequences with it, but not with you. With you he’ll be as lightheartedly mean as he can be.

Ghost: He’s been shit talked so much, he doesn’t really care anymore. He’s a scary and intimidating guy, so naturally people have something to say about him. However, most of them usually don’t have the courage to say anything like it to his face. So yeah, he would be a bit surprised if someone actually did sass him for a bit. Would go quiet for a moment, processing that someone just said something mean to him. When he wants to be, even Ghost can be a bit sassy himself, though in his case he usually just ends up sounding mean more so than anything else. Will “sass” you back when he can. It’s a bit intimidating from someone like him, especially since his sass borders on threatening, but you can be sure he won’t go through with it. He just really wants to see how far he can push this entire thing and what he needs to do in order for you to stop running your mouth and cower in fear as well. That never comes, however, so he ends up sassing/threatening you a bit as well. I could see you becoming buddies over this, it’s really rare for someone to talk to him like that. It makes him smile when you can think of an especially good comeback. Might sass someone alongside you, if they really deserve it.

Soap: He definitely has some fun with you. Although he can be quite sassy himself as well when he wants to be, he usually just hops on the jokes of other people. Sees you sassing him as some kind of challenge, so you can be certain he’ll challenge you right back. After all, if you can run your mouth then surely you can prove yourself as well, right? It’s all a competition in his eyes and he’s somewhat of a sore loser. Though, if you really are all talk and there’s nothing behind what you’re saying, then he’ll get Gaz involved as well, thinking that, because his buddy is very sassy himself, there will be some fun sassing going on. He’s usually right, but he still stands by what he said: You should be able to prove yourself after everything you have to say. Soap doesn’t take too kindly to being sassed for no reason whatsoever. He will take you up on what you said and will have you do it better than he does. If you are better than him, fine. You get to run your mouth as much as you want, he can’t really complain then. However, if you end up being worse at something than he is then he’s earned every right to sass you to hell and back instead. It’s all fair in his eyes. If you improve you get to sass him again, but good luck.

[allisonlol]

hii!! can i get dazai, chuuya, tecchou when their s/o safewords during sex plsss

a/n: i got so excited when i saw this req i fr started writing instantly lol. i’ve always had an idea similar to this in the back of my mind but never got around to writing it, so thx for requesting & reminding me >:)

warnings: mentions of sexual activity (somewhat explicit), safeword usage, brief descriptions of pain and blood

(Dazai, Chuuya, Tecchou) When Their S/O Safewords

Dazai

you and dazai had been at it for awhile now, and so far everything was fine

but suddenly, dazai lifted up your legs and pressed them back against your chest, forcing you into a mating press

you gasped at the sensation of how much deeper he was able to go now, & threw your head back against the pillow

but after a minute you registered a throbbing pain in your abdomen

the ache soon turned into sharp, shooting pains that were hard to ignore and outweighed the pleasure

ur body wasn’t used to this position yet and, unable to bear it anymore, you grab onto dazai’s shoulder & frantically say your safeword

it takes a few seconds for him to register what you said

but once he realizes, his eyes go wide and he stops, face paling slightly

^although it goes unsaid, dazai hates the thought of hurting you even unintentionally so he automatically feels guilty

kind of draws in on himself and won’t look you in the eye as he asks what’s wrong

pls just let him know what happened and that you’re not badly hurt

once you explain the situation and reassure him, dazai will lowkey start making fun of you?? lightheartedly of course

says some shit like “sorry my dick is too long babe😞” boy if you don’t shut the hell up

will resume only once you’ve reassured him several times that you feel better and are willing to continue

^even then he maintains a more gentle & slower pace

Chuuya

chuuya is known as an abrasive person in general and this aggressive behavior also regards to how he acts in bed

so i can see him getting carried away at times

don’t get me misunderstood tho. chuuya is very attentive and lives in fear of hurting you so usually he’s overly cautious

today was a bit different tho; the both of you had a stressful day of dealing with mafia business & were looking for a healthy way to release frustrations

so currently, chuuya had you pinned down on his desk, but was being more aggressive than usual

the intensity & degrading words which usually turned you on were now only making u feel more tired and upset

your eyes start tearing up and you try to hold back for him, but it's only a few more minutes before you're weakly calling out the safeword

chuuya is alert to every sound you make so he instantly hears it & stops, gently helping you up and turning you around to face him

sits you down on his chair and crouches on the floor next to it so you're at eye level

his heart almost stops when he sees the tears threatening to fall from your eyes & he curses himself for not noticing

you admit that you're just feeling a little upset at his words and it's probably because of the stressful day you both had

while you give him a watery smile and insist you are fine now, chuuya is still going to really internalize his guilt. you'll notice for a few weeks after that he is much softer n passionate both with his words and in bed <33

Tecchou

honestly he's such a soft lover that it's unlikely he'd hurt you in any way during sex

^always praising you, letting you know how much he loves you and just being sweet n gentle in general

this isn't to say he doesn't have days where he's rougher but even then, he is careful

SO in order for you to actually need to safeword, i believe there would have to be a third factor

^that being an injury you'd gotten at work the other day. while nothing particularly bad, it was a light slash across your abdomen from a blade

you'd bandaged it up of course, and tecchou had asked several times if you'd still wanted to continue despite the injury (to which you'd insisted)

at first everything was fine, but after 10 minutes you registered the cut starting to sting and assumed it had reopened. since it was so minor you figured afterwards you would just patch it up again

however it only gradually got worse and even with tecchou being his usual gentle self, the pain was too much </3

BUT tecchou is so attentive that u didn't even have to safeword

^notices the tears forming in your eyes and the way you're trying to hide your wince at every inward thrust he does

stops immediately and refuses to continue, pressing a kiss on your lips every time you try to protest

you're all like "no i'm fine!!" but he just gives a pointed look towards your bandage which is starting to spot with blood

y'all not tecchou having such good dick it made you bleed- jk jk

rebandages it for you and makes a "no sex" rule until you're completely better >:0

taglist: @deadmitochondria @miycutie @chuuyasboots @shy-socially-awkward-intovert @beandaifuku @stygianoir @sonder-paradise @irethepotato @serenareiss @ashthemadwriter

[loserchildhotpants]

there is something so sad abt this exchange, and so foreboding.

Aziraphale is still so focused on Heaven and The Rules™️ and he’s so frightened— it’s funny for a while, up until it’s not, and Crowley winds up feeling the need to save Aziraphale from that fear.

"Well yeah, you did but...I'm not going to tell anyone. Are you? … well, then nothing has to change.”

He says it lightheartedly, but it defines their entire relationship; he knows Aziraphale won’t go confessing to being anything other than Pure and Good in the eyes of Heaven, even if he knows so well already that he did the right thing. It’s not right by Heaven’s rules, so Aziraphale can’t speak of it with anyone outside of Crowley, and even then, he’s so scared to speak of it, he barely can.

Crowley tells him nothing has to change.

“You won’t say anything, I won’t say anything, and nothing ever has to change.” — “we never speak of this blossoming thing between us, i swear I’ll never so much as mention it, because I know this scares you — that I scare you — and that probably will never change. And I won’t make you change. I won’t ask you to. Silence will keep us safe — as long as we don’t define it, you and I, we never have to lose us.”

And then we pivot into the subject of the inherent loneliness of their shared Otherness, and that of course Crowley lies — he’s a demon. It’s like a mockery of Aziraphale, “see, I do The Bad Thing of lying, because I’m simple and evil, you don’t have to think anymore on that. Probably shouldn’t, anyway. If you do, you might notice that I did it to protect you, that I care about you, that good and evil aren’t so simple in reality, and that will make you more scared, more lonely, but I don’t mind protecting you from that, so all you need to know is that I’m a demon and I lie because of course I do.”

He bears the terrible weight of Knowing, which ofc is v fitting of the serpent of Eden, but at some point, Aziraphale has to choose to know, to truly understand the difference between good and right and bad and wrong, and this is where Crowley’s been stuck at for eons.

When he spoke about their love out loud, he was breaking The Unspoken Agreement, he was exposing Aziraphale to the ambiguity of right and wrong, the uncomfortable truth that they can choose who they are, in the world and to each other, and that they should choose each other — that he wants them to.

And he knew Aziraphale would be scared, so he chose his words very precisely, was up and ready to go to the Ritz and fly right by it all, just get it out in the open and maybe wait another thousand years to see if Aziraphale might be willing then to entertain the thought of holding hands or maybe a kiss if he were being very brave — but fear won.

Crowley thought, “I know I promised not to mention it, that neither of us would — but it’s wrong not to. I think the right thing now is for us to speak about it out loud, to just let us love one another — that can’t be wrong, right?”

And Aziraphale said, “you’re the bad guys,” and Crowley realized he’d said what was never supposed to be said, all for nothing.

Aziraphale insisted that he not worry, because he can change Crowley back into a Good Guy, just the opposite of what Crowley said to him back then, saying “I won’t ask you to change, we never have to say it out loud,” — and Crowley’s just back on that rock, just as lonesome as he’s ever been.

I guess the biggest difference with the kiss is that he says not to bother forgiving him. Maybe Aziraphale did forgive him for lying about the inherent loneliness of being Other, but this time? Crowley’s too hurt — and whatever, he’s a demon, right? He’s just a bad guy. What’s worth forgiving?

[mortaswriting]

Chapter 1: First Meeting

this is a #ghoulcy au with the plot of silence of the lambs

Beginning

Lucy MacLean is standing in front of an office. As she enters, she comes face to face with Davey, the agent in charge of the unit she has been assigned to. Upon looking at him, she notices that he has a haunted and restless expression.

Lucy: Good morning, Mr. Ruey.

Davey: I apologize for pulling you out of your training so early... there's a job that came up, and I thought of you. It's not exactly a job, it can be seen as a special assignment...

He hands Lucy a stack of papers (a dossier). Upon opening the dossier, she is confronted with a horrifying image: the brutalized body of a flayed woman.

Davey: We're trying to interview all the serial killers currently in custody for a psychocomp behavioral profile. Most of them were happy to do it... they enjoy boasting about their "works of art." Are you easily frightened, Lucy?

Lucy: Not yet. She said lightheartedly, trying to dispel the heavy atmosphere that had settled in the room.

Davey: I want you to go after someone who hasn't been cooperating much. I need you to go back to the asylum and find him.

Lucy remains silent. For a few seconds, her features appear clouded, and then her face is taken over by a haunted expression.

"The Ghoul, The Cannibal?"

Lucy quickly tries to calm herself down and push away the horror.

"Okay, I can do this."

Davey: I don't expect him to talk to you. We've tested it for a long time, but we couldn't get anything out of him. Howard was a brilliant psychiatrist, he knows all the tricks, he can manipulate you without you even realizing it. So you must be very careful with him.

After finishing giving all the instructions, Lucy headed to the Vault State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

There, she had a far from admirable conversation with Dr. Chet, who was flirting with her the whole time. He was an extremely unpleasant individual. In the end, he explained all the rules to her, about staying away from the glass, not taking anything Cooper tries to pass, and most importantly, not falling for his tricks.

Dr. Chet and Lucy went through several corridors and descended several stairs until they reached a hallway. Chet said his goodbyes and let her go alone to the psychiatrist's cell.

She walked through a hostile corridor, where several deranged killers lived, a few cells before reaching Cooper Howard's.

Suddenly, a strange figure rushes towards her in the second-to-last cell, their face grotesquely pressing against the bars as they hiss,

"I c-can smell your cunt."

Lucy shudders for a moment but quickly resumes walking down the dark hallway.

Gradually, she reaches Cooper Howard's cell. He starts to appear slowly. The cell is protected by a glass that seems difficult to break (she hopes that's true). Lucy stops at a comfortable distance and introduces herself.

"Dr. Howard, my name is Lucy MacLean. May I speak with you?"

Howard is leaning against his bunk, wearing white pajamas and holding an Italian Vogue magazine. A face long deprived of sunlight, almost faded, except for the bright eyes and the moist, red mouth. He gently rises, crossing over to stand before her: the gracious host. His voice is cultured and soft.

"Good Morning," he said, with a warm smile.

LUCY: "I want to ask for your help with a questionnaire."

DR. HOWARD: You're one of Davey's, I presume.

LUCY: Yes, I am.

DR. HOWARD: May I see your credentials?

Lucy is surprised but takes her ID card out of her bag and shows it to him for inspection. He smiles gently.

DR. HOWARD: Closer, please... closer.

She complies each time, trying to hide her fear. Dr. Howard's nostrils flare as he gently, like an animal, tests the air. Then he smiles, looking at her card.

"Agent MacLean. Please, have a seat."

She sits on the folding metal chair. He politely waits until she settles, then takes a seat and gazes at her with delight.

DR. HOWARD: Now, then. What did Hueys say to you?

(She is intrigued) "Multiple Hueys," in the next cell. He hissed at you. What did he say?

LUCY: He said, "I can smell your cunt."

DR. HOWARD: I see. I myself cannot. You use Evyan skin cream and sometimes wear L'Air du Temps, but not today. You brought your best handbag, didn't you?

"Yes."

A pause, then Lucy takes the questionnaire out of her briefcase.

LUCY: Dr. Howard, please consider--

DR. HOWARD: No, no, no. You were doing well, Sweetheart. You were polite and receptive to courtesy, established trust with the embarrassing truth about Hueys, and now this...

"I'm just asking you to take a look at it, doctor."

She hands him the questionnaire on the sliding food tray. He stands up, looks at it, flipping through a page or two dismissively.

DR. HOWARD: Oh, Sweetie... do you think you can dissect me with this little blunt tool?

"No. I just hoped for your expertise."

Suddenly, he throws the tray back at her with a metallic CLANG. It startles her. His voice continues to be a pleasant purr.

DR. HOWARD: You're so ambitious, aren't you...? Do you know how you come across to me, with your fancy handbag and cheap shoes? You look like a hick. A well-groomed, restless hick, with a taste... Good nutrition has given you some bones, but you're not more than a generation away from poor white trash, Agent MacLean...? That accent you tried so desperately to shed from pure West Virginia.

Each of his words hits her like a small, precise dart.

"You see a lot, Dr. Howard. But are you strong enough to point that powerful perception towards yourself? How about this...? Look at yourself and write the truth."

(She throws the tray back at him) Or maybe you're just afraid.

DR. HOWARD: You're tough, aren't you?

DR. HOWARD: Well, you're far from ordinary, Lucy MacLean. All you have is the fear of it.

Now, please excuse me. Good day.

LUCY: And the questionnaire...?

DR. HOWARD: Once, a census taker tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti. Go back to school, little MacLean.

He takes a step back and then returns to his bed, becoming still and distant like a statue. Frustrated, Lucy hesitates, finally puts her bag on her shoulder, and walks away, leaving the questionnaire on the tray. But after just a few steps, as she passes by Hueys' cell, she sees that creature in his bars again, hissing at her.

HUEYS: I bit my wrist to make it bleeeddd!

S-see how it bleeedddss?

The dark figure suddenly throws the palm of his hand towards her, and it splatters on her face and neck, not with blood, but with pale droplets of semen. She lets out a small cry, touching her fingers to the wetness. Stunned, almost in tears, she forces herself to straighten up and move forward, searching for a tissue. From behind her, Dr. Howard shouts, very agitated.

"Agent MacLean... Agent MacLean!"

Lucy slows down, stops. She trembles but makes the difficult choice to turn around, go back, stand in front of someone again.

Dr. Howard, who is trembling with anger. For a moment, his face opens up, and we catch a glimpse of hell itself. Then he composes himself again.

"The discourtesy is unimaginably ugly to me."

Lucy: "So please, take this test for me."

"No. But I will make you happy... Lucy MacLean."

"What is this, Dr. Howard?"

Before Cooper can say anything, the guards flood the room to separate Lucy from the glass.

"Approach that glass, and your visitation authorization will be revoked, Agent MacLean."

Lucy storms out through the doors of the sanatorium, and just as she arrived, she leaves, without answers. She decides she will drive to her hotel room where she intends to sleep for the next few hours.

But instead, she spends the rest of the night thinking about Cooper Howard.

[misslaevna]

Hello!!! Can I request a scenario where reader cheats on character. And they physically/emotionally harm reader. Then it all turns out to be a set up. So reader was forced to 'cheat' or something bad would've happened.

Characters:Fyodor,Chuuya and dazai.

Please feel free to add anymore characters!

Please and thank you!

𝐼𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝑒𝓃𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓂𝓎 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝓈?

a/n: I hope I interpreted this right, hope you'll enjoy it! ♡ characters: Fyodor, Chuuya, Dazai trigger warning: physical and emotional abuse - proceed with caution masterlist & requesting

Fyodor

It felt so cold.

Not that the room’s temperature was low in particular, in fact - it was fairly warm, and the fireplace crackling filled the space with both visual and auditory ambiance. 

But that knife against your throat made you freeze in the chair you were sitting on.

You felt the blade firmly being pressed against your skin, while a hand forced your chin up, making Fyodor’s glimmering, violet eyes unable to avoid.

He let out a soft chuckle while he softly tilted his head to the side, as if he’s not even seeing you as a human, let alone his significant other - more like livestock he’s examining. Something worthless, something faulty, an imperfect product.

‘So how long were you planning on waiting to tell me?’ he asked, so casually, so lightheartedly, as he pressed the knife a little more into your skin - it stung you, it made you almost choke on the lump in your throat, however, blood wasn’t drawn… yet.

You knew exactly what he’s talking about. For a moment, you wondered; does he know that if you didn’t go along with what that man wanted, he wouldn’t be possessing the confidential files on Europe’s top ability users? Let alone the documents - had you not given yourself to that other guy, you would’ve risked so much more. You would’ve risked Fyodor’s whereabouts, the mission, the information, even your own life - although that was the thing you cared the least about.

‘Fyodor, I… had… to…’ you mumbled. You tried to speak up as much as you could, to hide your shaky voice and mask the actual terror you’re feeling right now. 

No matter how close you were with Fyodor, deep down, he still scared you - he always did. 

‘It was… the… the only way….’ you forced the words out of your mouth.

Fyodor shook his head, clicking his tongue, ‘You sinned, my little mouse.’ 

His piercing, violet gaze felt like a hundred needles stinging into your eyes - you could swear his eyes stung even more than the knife he was pressing to your neck. His violence filled eyes met with your terrified ones as tears slowly started to roll down your face. 

‘Had you taken my guidance, this would not have happened.’ he said in a calm voice, referring to your little incident before you headed out to gather information - more specifically, that you did not consult him beforehand. 

In your mind, you forged the perfect plan, you had it figured out to the smallest detail - or so you have thought. In hindsight, all you wanted was to just stop yourself from even heading out and let Fyodor handle it.

Fyodor wasn’t saying anything. He was just staring at you, soaking in the sight of you crying vulnerably, and staring up to him - not that you had the choice to look somewhere else. Your suffering to him was what water to someone wandering the desert for days to no end - and Fyodor was very thirsty.

He chuckled in amusement - you knew that chuckle way too well. 

Your tears heavily blurred your vision, but still, the smirk on Fyodor’s face was crystal clear. 

After moments which seemed like forever, he leaned down to you, now his eyes at an even level with yours.

You let out a small whimper in fear. 

He finally opened his mouth, not raising his voice above the level of a faint whisper.

‘Repent.’

Chuuya

You groaned in pain, raising a hand to a spot on your head that pounded like it’s about to explode. You noticed pretty soon that your hand and arm is giving you trouble as well - with every little movement, pain shot through your entire body, making it unbearably painful to move. 

Your senses were still a bit dull, but you were certain you’re hearing a familiar voice sobbing not far from you. 

You fixed your eyes on the man sitting on the couch - with one shaky hand he was holding a phone, and with another he was gripping his hat so tight that it was a miracle he didn’t tear it apart. 

You tried to let go of the wall and make your way over Chuuya, however that only resulted in you falling down on your knees again - you were aching with such a deep, piercing pain both physically and mentally that it felt more like a boulder pushing you down on the floor, making it impossible for you to get up once again.

You remembered a lot of yelling and screaming, and a lamp shuttering on the floor. Books flying everywhere, then a large thud, and then everything going blurry, and then well… you regaining consciousness with an unbearable, sharp pain.

The soft thud you made when you fell back to your knees drew Chuuya’s attention to you. 

‘Y/n? Y/n?! Are you okay? Are you hurt?! Fuck. Oh my god. Fuck!’ Chuuya yelled, while he was next to you in an instant.

You carelessly raised your shoulders. You felt so humiliated. 

‘What’s that?’ you asked silently, eyeing the phone in Chuuya’s hand - from what you could make out, it was an incredibly long paragraph of text, from no other than Dazai.

‘... he told me everything.’ he muttered, staring at the ground. 

‘Everything?’

Chuuya nodded.

‘Yeah. He walked me through what happened last night when he ran into you. He… said the same thing as you did. About that dickhead trying to get it with you. And if he doesn’t kiss you in front of him, god knows what could’ve happened…’

You stared at Chuuya’s deep, teary blue eyes - even with little to no strength, you tried to empathize with him, you tried to feel the pain he was going though; but yours was much greater to allow you to do that.

‘Y/n, I- I didn’t mean to hurt you, I-...’ Chuuya stuttered. The consequences of his actions hit him like lightning when he received the text message from Dazai reassuring him that there’s nothing between you and him and you love Chuuya and Chuuya only - Chuuya’s temper got the better of him.

He carefully placed his hands around you, paying special attention to your bruises, the blue and purple marks his violence left on you. 

‘I-I’ll take care of you baby. I… Jesus fucking Christ…’ he muttered, trying to help you to get up.

You let yourself be pulled up from the ground and be guided to the bathroom to get yourself cleaned by a sobbing, shaking Chuuya.

The ache in your body felt a bit better by now, although with difficulty, you could move around a little - but the feelings didn’t seem to want to return just yet to you.

As if the moment he slammed you to the wall, all your sadness, anger, frustration and hatred just evaporated, and there’s nothing left but an empty shell of something you used to be.

Dazai

It’s day 4 of no contact with your boyfriend. 

If looks could set a phone on fire, yours would’ve definitely made yours go up in flames - you’ve been practically staring at it, anticipating the moment when it’s finally gonna buzz with a notification from Dazai. He should be contacting you soon, shouldn’t he?

He did say he will be back - why would he lie to you? He just said he needs a little time and it’s going to be okay. 

At that point, you couldn’t decide which is more unbearable: the knot in your stomach, the lump in your throat, or your thoughts which were eating your sanity away piece by piece.

He didn’t say that it’s over, none of you established that this would be the end of your relationship, so he’s still your boyfriend, right? He’s still your lovely, caring Dazai, isn’t he? He still loves you… he must still love you, or he would’ve said if it was otherwise…

… wouldn’t he?

That night kept replaying in your head over and over.

That night where you pressed your lips onto someone else’s. 

Your consciousness started tearing you apart as soon as it happened - you didn’t do it because you wanted to be unfaithful, you never meant to dishonor your relationship and most of all, Dazai. But what else could you have done? 

You tried to ignore the blackmail for months, until… you just couldn’t. Until he actually threatened to expose Dazai’s dark past relating to the mafia. You had no choice but to give in, one meetup and it would be over and you could go back to how everything was before, without all the anxiety and paranoia.

Your breathing was a mess; you were laying in bed, trying to at least breathe in a little oxygen so you wouldn’t pass out from bawling your eyes out. You tightened your grip around one of Dazai’s shirts, lifting it to your nose, trying to take in some of his smell, or at least what was left on it on that piece of clothing. 

It wasn’t one of those crying sessions where your emotions flowed out and eventually you were left relieved; it was the kind of crying where no sound left your mouth, where only tears rolled down your face while it felt like with every messy breath, you exhale a fragment of your very soul. 

Suddenly, your phone started buzzing; you hastily checked who could be calling you now, in the middle of the night. 

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw that it was Dazai finally reaching out to you. You took a deep breath as a last resort to regulate your breathing and to gather yourself before you answered.

‘Honey?’ you asked, with your heart beating in your throat.

Silence.

‘D-Dazai?’ you asked again after he didn’t say anything for a minute. Instead of feeling scared, worry started to creep its way into your mind.

‘Sorry, I’m here, y/n.’ he said in the most casual tone, as if he was just calling you on a regular afternoon to check up on you. 

Suddenly, you heard another voice from the phone - one you couldn’t recognise, one that felt like a huge knife being struck into your heart.

‘Could you make that call a bit later?’

It was a voice of a woman.

‘Where are you…?’ you muttered, trying to keep your voice as stable as you could - unsuccessfully. 

‘Sorry, sorry. I’ll be hanging up.’ Dazai apologized - but not to you. 

‘I’ll be in touch later, y/n. Good night.’ he said, this time finally to you.

‘No, no Dazai, wai-’

Before you could finish, he hung up.

His suspicious phone call left you even more scarred, even more damaged than before - you almost wished he never called at all, that you would rather he just disappeared and never talked to you again. 

Your silent sobs, as if a bomb, exploded into you wailing, screaming with tears into Dazai’s shirt, letting all your self-hatred be absorbed by the fabric that you were covering your face with. 

You couldn’t and you didn’t want to believe he was out with a woman, doing god knows what, god knows where - how could he do this? Was this revenge? Why did he call you in the first place?

Why was he torturing you like this?

Your whole body tensed up, from your flowing tears, you could barely see a thing - it was one of those moments where life just didn’t feel real, where it all felt like some horrifying nightmare you would love to wake up from. 

With all your anger, you threw your phone against the wall - breaking the screen to absolute pieces, but you just couldn’t care about that at that moment. 

At least he can’t contact you. At least you can’t know what he’s doing. 

You hugged your knees, trying to comfort yourself as much as you could, trying to convince yourself that this is still just a bad situation you two will endure and get over, and this is not the end; that he’s still your Dazai.

However, as much as you tried to suppress it, something in your gut was telling you the opposite.

And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you felt like that something in your gut is right.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

and a little remedy to heal the emotional damage:

Chuuya hugging you

Fyodor hugging you

[vellichorom]

I really really like this community and obviously the game, the tsp community does have some wonderful bunch.. but it feels.. I don't know, somewhat difficult to be there and share things with others (of course it's likely accidental or something, it's common to have closed bubbles), but it feels challenging, y'know? To find a place where you can share without feeling like a bother..

Have you ever had this struggle?

i've had VAGUELY similar issues, i think. i'm a very bold person ( i think that much is clear if you've talked to me for more than 5 minutes ) & try to worm my way into conversations & events because... well, sometimes that's how you get ahead & make friends & be apart of things you want to get in on. good intrusiveness, you know what i mean? but even i envy / have envied others with their evident & inevitable cliques & circles - in fandoms & otherwise, the closeness they have with people I'D love to be close to or doing things i'd love to be apart of. nothing wrong with envy, & nothing wrong with cliques & circles - so long as both parties aren't antagonizing the other, of course. but i absolutely understand that, & realize it's Way harder at times to try & get involved in anything when you See there are others already involved in their own thing.

but, you know !!! that shouldn't stop you from trying to contribute anyway! when it comes to public fandoms & servers & chats, it's NOT dominated by any one person or group, no matter if there's popular figures in it or not.

I'M a relatively popular figure in the TSP community(?) i GUESS??? god only knows why, but if you hesitated to post anything because you were worried about ME & my friends for whatever reason... well that'd be ridiculous, i say as lightheartedly as possible. our opinions as " figureheads " do Not matter & GOD don't let us who just happened to get lucky intimidate you any. we're all just random nothingburger motherfuckers who wanna post about what we like JUST the same as you, i promise.

& putting yourself out there regardless of your fears is how you garner traction, make friends, get to be apart of the things you like, etc! it's no bother! none of us are special & none of us are unworthy of enjoying the things we enjoy. so the best advice i can give to combat this tricky issue is SIMPLY do it, go forward, reach out, throw yourself into it & do it all anyway. do it scared! hesitating will Only hinder you & keep you from what you want, & unfortunately, there likely won't be anyone to invite you in if they simply don't Know who you are as a creator or person.

SO GO GET LOUD! go part the clouds !!! you have NOTHING to lose by making yourself known & heard & DOING IT ANYWAY!

& i hope in doing so, you can find a comfortable spot to get cozy in & interact with others or make some friends, & friends in those you admire too!

&... god willing i didn't Entirely misconstrue the issue in this message, but nevertheless! i hope it gets ( or has gotten ) better for you since you sent me this;

[niccichi]

LukeJamie Headcanons 🌟🍶

It's 3:34 AM and I can't sleep, here's some headcanons I have for these losers <3 Putting under the cut so I don't clog up dashes

Jamie knows how to cook, it came with living with his grandmother in the middle of nowhere and idolizing Yun and Yang, who own a restaurant. Luke can make basic things, but ask him to make anything more and it's a disaster guaranteed. Jamie never admits it but he loves cooking food for Luke because it's a subtle, wordless way for him to show his love.

Jamie's love language is giving acts of service and receiving words of affection. Luke's love language is giving quality time and receiving gifts.

Luke's apartment is a mess, usually placing things wherever it's convenient and forgets to do his chores sometimes. Jamie's surprisingly the opposite, keeping things organized and tidy. Cleanliness was practically ingrained in his brain because his grandmother was a huge on keeping things clean. When they start living together, Luke does try to make an effort to keep things organized because he knows it bothers Jamie.

Jamie's a cat person while Luke's a dog person. They always have petty arguments about this.

Luke's usually the big spoon while Jamie's the little spoon but that's because their height difference makes it easy (and Jamie doesn't like to admit it but he does like being held in Luke's arms). However, if Luke's having a bad day, Jamie would be the big spoon to comfort him.

Jamie always steals Luke's clothes. Luke has no say in what clothes get stolen, they just disappear from his closet. He would lightheartedly complain about it but he does love seeing Jamie wear his clothes - it makes him feel all warm inside. Jamie does think Luke's clothes are ugly, but he has to admit that they're pretty comfy to wear. Luke would steal Jamie's clothes if 1) they weren't too small for him and 2) if Jamie owned anything else other than primarily crop tops.

Luke LOVES using pet names. He mostly uses 'babe,' but he'll use just about any pet name ever, including nicknames (like 'Jay'). Jamie isn't big on using pet names, but there was this one time where he called Luke a term of endearment in Cantonese and refused to translate it for him. They mostly use insults as terms of endearment though - for Luke it's 'pretty boy' and Jamie uses 'meathead,' 'dummy,' and 'dork.'

Jamie cannot drive for his life, so if they ever have to drive anywhere, Luke is always designated driver.

Luke loves PDA - he'll take any opportunity to hold Jamie's hand, wrap his arm around Jamie's shoulder or waist, or kiss his cheek. Jamie, surprisingly, is reserved when it comes to public affection. He prefers keeping intimacy private and always gets flustered when Luke starts getting really affectionate in public. Luke gets a kick out of it and always teases him about it.

Neither of them are really overprotective over the other, as they trust each other to be able to protect themselves and navigate Metro City on their own. However, Luke does get worried about Jamie sometimes, as he's much more reckless and he has a little fear of something happening to him that can't be controlled, fueled by the loss of his father and the Nayshall incident. It doesn't help that Jamie doesn't really value his own life very much either - it's residual from his neglectful parents and growing up delinquent.

One time Jamie came home extremely bruised and beaten up during a rough patrol and Luke became upset seeing his boyfriend so badly hurt. Jamie was initially confused, since he was still alive and well, and it takes him a long time to understand that Luke genuinely does care about his wellbeing and if something did happen to him it would tear Luke apart. He starts being more careful after that incident - if not for himself, then for Luke.

[pig-demon]

Undernovela after 6 years

Today on stream someone kind lightheartedly mentioned my old Undertale AU Undernovela, and I was so surprised, i became very flustered. !!!

It was hard to get all the right words out, and I keep thinking I didn't say enough. so here's some ramblies on the blog, because this IS a blog after all.

So, if you're not aware, I used to have an AU for undertale that was basically "what if the story, but it was dramatic like a hispanic novela." Because if you're still familiar with my art over in @pigdemonart you know that I still obsess over making art inspired by my upbringing and culture.

However, Undernovela was a short-lived project. On stream I told the story of why I stopped drawing for the AU and why I pretty much disconnected from it and the fandom.

I told the story like I usually do, and explained how at the time I became really bitter with how the fandom treated me and the story. I was a Hispanic person just trying to have fun with this goofy concept, making a story purely for other Latinos.

I think whenever I reminisced on 2016 or trusted someone enough to talk about this, I focused heavily on the negatives.

Its hard for me not to think of that time as a negative memory -- at the time I was battling depression and my relationship with my art really suffered for it. And the criticism I would get for the comic I was making, be it justified or not, weighed heavier than the positive ones.

It was also one of my first time getting online attention, and seeing notes fluctuate put a damper on my mood even worse. Not to mention, I struggled with how a lot of ignore white Americans wanted to join in on the "joke," and the nuances that were obvious to people who watched novelas all their life, were lost on them. I try not to hold contempt for those people, as most of us were in our early to late teens in Undertale at that time. But I hated to think I was a gateway to them being openly racy against my own community. Who knows?

Regardless, in spite of all that, I think I'm doing those memories a disservice by thinking of it ONLY so pitifully. It was also a very precious time -- it was my first time making comics consistently, it was the first time so many other Latinamericans across North/South America and the Caribbean reached out to me online. I felt understood, and part of a niche community within a community. Undertale Fandom was so immense, I feared the pressure to perform, but being a much smaller AU really made it feel safer. I felt creative and inspired and happy to be Latino, and that is a good precious feeling.

So yes, while I did make the decision to disconnect, and I think that was for the better, I'm glad to be playing Undertale again with @bunnyangeltuber because I'm reminded what inspired me to make the AU in the first place and what continues to inspire me to create.

That being said, I will still cringe at some of the jokes I wrote. Like why were so many characters either mafioso or a mariachi guy?? beats past pig up with a shovel

[sleepingdeath-light]

being best friends hcs ; barnaby

requested by ; 🐝🍯 anon (09/05/23) [1/3]

fandom(s) ; welcome home

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; barnaby b. beagle

outline ; “My welcome home obsession is creeping in too 😂 can I have some best friend headcanons of Barbaby, Wally, and Frank? They’re my blorbos. ❤️ if you can’t do all three I’d like just Barnaby! He’s so SILLY!! And I wanna be his best friend ✨

Also I claim bee anon!! 🐝🍯”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

being this guy’s best friend is asking for trouble in the most amazing way possible

he’s a jokester at heart and he’s always got a new trick up his sleeve whether it’s an adapted magic trick, a joke he’s brainstormed or a whole comedy routine he adapted on the fly

the key with him is to always expect the unexpected

prank calls are common and endearing — everything from ‘is your fridge running’ to using fake names to make you compliment yourself

he has a seemingly endless supply of whoopee cushions and other such joke items (like boxes filled with fake snakes and the like)

he has a unicycle; he cannot ride it for very long but he has one!

he can also juggle and he uses this ability for evil

like yes he’ll juggle pins and balls and such, but barnaby is also of significant stature and strength compared to basically everyone else

and what i’m trying to say is that he has at several points started juggling you and your neighbours

you, wally and julie are his preferred victims because none of you will get revenge on him

on a related note, he picks you up and tosses you around often — like if he wants your attention he’ll just pick you up and walk away with you hanging limply over his shoulder

this also includes him picking you up and letting you dangle whilst he hugs you

speaking of… he gives incredible hugs because he’s so large and soft — combined with his high body temperature basically makes him a living, all body hot water bottle combined with a pillow, so cuddles are absolutely top tier

he never uses your name and prefers to address you by a series of increasingly ridiculous nicknames that barely make sense

more often than not this means addressing you with random nouns — anything from ‘sofa bed’ to ‘new colour tv’ or something more normal-adjacent like ‘pebble’ or ‘mouse’

if he ever gets a bit much, just scratch behind his ears and he’ll mellow out significantly and just nod off next to you

he gets you both matching outfits — they’re all terribly goofy with mismatched patterns and colours, but it’s the thought that counts!

he has your handprint on his mailbox and you have his paw print on yours — it only makes sense since most of the mail you get comes from you both

piggyback rides are definitely common, but he also likes to take the mick by running like a madman when you’re up there, so I hope you’ve got a good grip

(you know he’d never really let you fall but the fear is still there)

he definitely makes fun of you lightheartedly because he’s so much taller than you (being 8ft tall and all) — he’ll deliberately put things higher than you can reach to make sure you have to ask for help (which leads to even more jokes)

will not tolerate any negative talk about you, especially by yourself, and will lightly scold you with a huff and a ‘that’s my best friend you’re talking about, you know’

if you’re ticklish he’ll take full advantage of this with random tickle attacks

(though you can easily turn the tables by jabbing him in the ribs)

terrible with dates but he has an excellent memory for the things you love and have expressed a desire to own — which makes gift buying easy but gift giving pretty difficult to arrange

all in all he prefers to keep things lighthearted and does what he can to keep you smiling and laughing — as he does for everyone in his life because that’s just the type of guy he is

[mauswife]

hey id love your take on something that feels uncomfortable? my boyfriend and i have been together for a while (3+ years) and he is a provider and protector, he recently became the sole breadwinner as i am dealing with health stuff and school, i bake and cook, we talk about how he will support me when kids are in the picture... in a lot of ways we are falling into more traditional gender roles in our relationship and i really like it? im really attracted to him when he comes home from work and i rub his shoulders and give him dinner... the thing is, he is built very slim. like he doesnt visually look masculine. he is quite feminine looking. i try to convince him not to shave, but really the thing is that he is not built like a strong man. is there a way do you think that i can subtly let him know that that is what i want without making him feel bad about himself? like how do i encourage him to bulk up, or is that terrible of me to even want to?

hi anon! nothing wrong with finding something that works for you and makes you feel secure, in reference to you adopting a more traditional setup for your relationship. if that's what works for yall, that's what works. sounds like you guys have a happy, equal partnership to me

as for your main issue, i went and asked my own bf for you and he said this:

i agree! and i think there's ways to say things constructively like whenever i'm interested in my guy doing anything like not shaving for example i literally just go "GAWDDD DAYUMB BABE you'd look so sexy with whiskers". or "if you wore this shirt i would maul you looney tunes dustcloud-fight style and u would have to buy another one". you've been together 3 years you know how to talk to him lightheartedly ok you don't have to use my insane unhinged examples

i understand your fear ok you don't want to hurt him but the idea of him having big muscles and a hearty beard is very attractive, virility and all that, very healthy imo, sounds to me like you have unga bunga want baby brain and that's influencing your desire as well

i will say though, please just remind him you love him either way and find him attractive either way so he isn't left thinking you find him unappealing as he is right now. that would hurt anyone's heart i think.

you could also just feed him tons of meat and pie and see what happens. men love these things anyway......

edit: anon i'm still thinking on this, something doesn't feel right about it. like... idk... wanting his whole body type and appearance to change... i'll get back to you.

[slovoricbutbetter]

How to Get a Shot of Heaven: Guide for Boys with Fear of Needles

this is a vaguely (very vaguely. it's the Vibes toward the very end) forcemascing fictional story with just some random ocs i pulled from the ether :D

all i can guarantee is that the prose will be decent and maybe the banter will be cute but otherwise i don't know what i'm doing ✨ enjoy the story, 's under the cut !! 4014 words (written in one sitting so quality mileage may vary)

cws: religious trauma (mostly lightheartedly referenced, but very much omnipresent, gets more prevalent toward the end. worth mentioning, jay (pov character) got it in a cult), mentions of sexism and transphobia, kidnapping if you squint, needles and sirynges, Vaguely Horny Vibes further in but not straight away

Much to Jeremiah's surprise, he's largely unaffected by jet lag.

It's odd; his first ever flight, a transatlantic one at that, and all it took for him to shake off the morning after was throwing cold water in his face. If not for Adam looking halfway ran over as he checks the milk's expiration date and curses, Jay would've thought nothing of it, but apparently it's a blessing and the only good reason for Jeremiah to believe in God. Bit dramatic, but sure, whatever. Not like he'd know better.

Having abandoned the fridge in favour of the cabinets, Adam shuts another one with a groan. "I can't believe I have to feed you dry cereal on your first fucking day here. D'you prefer chocolate or fruity and would you be merciful enough to make me choke to death on whichever one you choose?"

Jeremiah snorts. "Can't believe a billionaire eats worse than I did living out of a car." He pushes off the wall, wandering over to the fridge, and examines its remarkably barren, cold insides, "Do they take your 'capable of basic self-care and housekeeping' card once you're masculine enough, or something?"

"Firstly, not a billionaire yet and won't become one if I have anything to say about it. Secondly, you've got it backwards. I'm incompetent because of my wealth, not in spite of it." Good-natured, Adam peeks from around the fridge door in all his mussed, squinty glory, "Men do tend to be encouraged to do jack shit even when they know how, though. 'S called 'toxic masculinity', doubt you've heard of it."

Humming affirmation, Jeremiah takes out a crate of eggs stationed lonesome on the top shelf and checks the date. "Do you have oil, flour and sugar? We could make pancakes."

Adam furrows his brows, like his appearance needs more creases. "Don't you need milk for those? That shit's been spoiled for over a week."

"Heat banishes the sin out of it or something, we'll be fine." Eggs and milk in hand, Jeremiah shuts the fridge with his foot and sets them down, taking the scan for supplies into his own hands. First thing he finds upon opening a top cabinet right next to the fridge is plates, stale-smelling spices, and, for whatever reason, the aforementioned cereal. This place is in desperate need of a full re-arranging, isn't it?

"... Okay, if we swap 'sin' for 'bacteria' that does make sense. You weren't kidding when you said they taught you pure fucking bollocks, huh?" Having got out the oil- olive, not ideal but workable- while Jeremiah was busy with plates, Adam stares at him with what Jay can only assume is highly crumpled scientific fascination.

Jay nods. "Dinosaurs are a scam invented to make people sin and all humans on the flat Earth came from a guy who coincidentally shares your name, yes." In the next cabinet, there's cups, glasses, a single fancy goblet and, on the top shelf, pans, "But hey, at least I know how to organise a kitchen."

"I know where everything is! Look, flour and sugar, record time." Adam says, muscles flexing as he pointedly slams the two largely unopened paper bags down next to the milk and eggs. Because flour is involved, he immediately sneezes.

"Your cereal probably tastes like paprika at this point. Now get out of the kitchen you're paying me to run and let me salvage your pathetic homemaking, shoo." Poking Adam in the chest with a pan, Jeremiah shoulders past him to get to more cabinets. Next one mostly has a myriad snacks and sugary drinks, though because it's ran by Adam, there's random soup bowls in there, too.

As Jay rummages around for a mixing bowl, Adam hovers. He's so rarely recognisably awkward, shameless as he is, his shuffling is even more distracting than it'd normally be. Mixing bowl found- though it's meant to be a salad bowl or something equivalent, judging by the fancy design- Jeremiah turns to glare over his shoulder.

Adam twiddles his thumbs under his ire. "Are you... Sure it's not too uncomfortable? You know, dysphoria and all, 's probably weird to be acting a housewife for a guy you just met three days ago."

Huh. Jeremiah blinks. Looks down at himself.

Even holding a fancy bowl in front of a stacked kitchen counter, the sight is far less nauseating than usual, his chest flattened and hairy legs covered halfway by cargo shorts. He sucks in his lips, worries at them, sets the bowl down. Breathes. Turns, and smirks as he faces Adam. "I'd be more concerned about the three days part than the housewife part, if I were you." He pinches at the loose fabric of his t-shirt, lifting it away, "More seriously though, that binder thingy helps, it's fine."

Squinting blearily, Adam holds up his wrist to check his watch. "You've been awake... How much longer than me, again?" 

Uh? "About an hour? Well, a bit more than that, but I first checked the time an hour before you started puttering."

Adam nods, tapping something into his watch. "And you've been wearing the binder that entire time?"

Oh, right. "Yeah, showered and put it on. That's five more hours, if I remember correctly?"

Adam looks up. "Four and a half. Can I make coffee?"

"Excuse me? Where'd the half hour go?" Crossing his arms, Jeremiah narrows his eyes. Mostly playfully. Excuse him for enjoying the high of a better fitting body.

"We've been hanging out. Don't cry, you can have your dysphoria hoodie even if you'll boil, but I'm not letting you fuck up your ribs. Now, coffee? Would you mind if I used ice cream instead of milk or would you just prefer it black?" Back at the counters, Adam squats, opening a bottom cabinet.

Jeremiah huffs. "Ice cream's good, but not too much. And sure, try and convince me you were responsible when you got your first binder." Measuring flour with a literal cup, he pours it into the bowl. No sieve, whatever; he'll just mix like he's trying to make a death vortex.

With a heavy thud, Adam sets a fancy, massive coffee maker on a nearby counter and stares blankly ahead. After a beat, he smiles. "I was, actually. I'm paranoid, remember?" His cheekiness almost masks the deep eye bags he's boasting.

Huffing again, Jay goes back to measuring sugar. "Who would've thought the biggest, most relevant inconsistency I'd have to face off with would be that weird degenerates are also sicklers for rules."

"Not all of us!" Adam laughs, brighter, "Though admittedly most do try to stay safe as much as possible." He puts coffee beans in a grinder, shutting the lid, "Loud, prepare yourself."

Even with the warning, Jeremiah flinches while cracking the eggs into a soup bowl to beat. He's found a whisk by the time Adam finishes with the deliciously fragrant but not worth the noise coffee beans, started to work at it even; before Adam can comment, he turns to him with the most judgemental face he can muster. "Why do you have a whisk and not a sieve?"

A bit more life to his face, Adam blushes. "I, uh, used to. Have one, that is."

"You lost it?" Opening the milk, Jay asks, amused, "Oh, this has started clotting. How are you this much of a disaster, good sir?"

Adam groans, setting up the coffee machine with whatever ancient magic required to make it work. "We're going to get stomach bugs and die."

"Better than paprika-flavoured cereal." Light, Jeremiah snorts, "It'll be fine, expired milk actually makes pancakes taste better. Probably that bacteria you mentioned, whatever it may be."

A beep, and Adam leaves the coffee for the refrigerator, probably to get his ice cream. "Fair. Bacteria is what turns milk into sour cream and cottage cheese, so, probably fine." He says, playfully exasperated, "If we die, though, I'm beating your ass in hell." And bonks Jay over the head with the frigid box of vanilla he got, which is frankly unnecessary. Jeremiah sticks his tongue out, and focuses on eviscerating the last clots in the egg and milk mixture.

For the rest of the preparations, they're both quiet, though Adam does start to mutter some tune under his nose. He even dances once he's done distributing the ice cream between mugs, completely uncaring of Jeremiah's not so subtle staring.

... It rides up his t-shirt, which, while never particularly modest given he paired it with only boxers, still did more to cover him before he raised his arms. Jeremiah's not staring, but it's hard not to see that he's- he's got a bulge, which, Jay has noticed earlier- not for any perverse reasons!- but- how's it not a trick of light? Adam's the same as Jay, isn't he??

Does that mean Jeremiah could one day- whipping his eyes back down to the pancake batter, Jay mixes with all the carefully controlled violence he's capable of. This is fine. Everything is fine. Adam promised to help him along with whatever aspect of 'transition' he needs or wants, so. All fine!

Thankfully for Jeremiah's mortification, Adam doesn't initiate conversation when handing him his coffee nor when stealing freshly cooked pancakes before Jay's done frying them all. At the same time, unfortunately, Adam is hovering far too close and taking his turn to stare. Since turning up the heat would do nothing but burn the remaining batter, all Jeremiah can do about it is try to distract himself while he's still busy.

Adam's cup clicks against the fancy, tiled counter top, empty by the sound of things.

"So... You say the binder helps you feel better even when you're doing 'womanly' shit? Quotation marks, nothing's inherently womanly or whatever. D'you... Would you be willing to try something even more masculinising? Since you're gonna be doing mostly domestic work around here." Fiddling with his hands, Adam stares, head cocked and lips pursed.

Oh. Jeremiah takes a deep breath. "It's that hormone you take, yeah?Tesrone- uh, whatever it's called."

"Testosterone!" Brighter in a blink, Adam leans closer, "Yeah, it's that. Makes you more hairy, changes your fat distribution to be more masculine, makes muscle gain easier and drops your voice, among the most immediately noticeable changes. D'you wanna know more?" He's shining, brown-bronze eyes crinkled and grin sharp and fox-like. 

Deep breath, again. More or less needlessly flipping the pancakes, just to check they've cooked on both sides, Jeremiah bites his lip. "Mhm. Is this a faustian bargain type of deal?" He asks, unloading the pancakes onto the plate.

"Oh, absolutely. One hand, you get a will to live and a body that feels more yours, but on the other, male pattern baldness and bad skin. Look at this shit!" Adam leans in, lifting his messy and admittedly slightly greasy raven hair from covering his forehead, "I'm only twenty six, and it's already killing me." Playful, he combs the hair back in place with his fingers, and upleans closer to Jay's face, "Also, you get a T-dick." Mock-whispering, he hides his teeth behind a pointy smile, face as though composed of impish edges.

A T-dick-

Adam laughs, bouncing back with another stolen pancake. He gets a little crumb in his sharply trimmed beard as he takes a bite, and in his washed up, stretched out moon design t-shirt draping a bit oddly over his warm tan, he looks startlingly like any other guy; could Jeremiah get the same?

Swallowing, Adam wipes his chin, taking the crumb off with it. "I'd show you, but I've already got surgery so it wouldn't be a good example. Eh, there's pictures online and shit." He shrugs, "Everything else, you can pretty much just see looking at me. Except, I get hot and hungry more easily? Hm, my endurance got worse, but as I said, muscle grows faster and more defined with less effort, so it's not a terrible trade-off. There's ways to mitigate the hair loss and whatnot-"

"How do I get it?" Jay cuts him off, putting the pan in the sink and taking a pancake for himself. His coffee, predictably, got cold while he was cooking. Still, hiding in a coffee mug is more unassuming than staring at the floor, probably.

"I've got to take my shot for today, still." More subdued yet clearly still smiling, Adam tears off a chunk of pancake, seemingly swallowing without chewing like the terrible creature he is, "Wouldn't be much trouble giving you a dose, too."

Oh, Lord. No, Adam was wrong, the jet lag immunity isn't the only good proof for a loving God. The real proof is that Jeremiah managed to set his sights on pickpocketing the one man who would give him all this in return for coming clean.

Although- "Shot? Like, needles?"

For a split second furrowing his brows, Adam brightens again, swallowing another small chunk of pancake. "Yeah, but if you hate getting stabbed, 's not a big deal. There's gel and pills, too! We'd have to wait a bit before we get them, though, since I don't use those. You're lucky I'm the founder-owner-CEO-whatever of an NGO that deals with transition and stuff, it'd be harder to get our hands on more T without going the legal route. That's not only a while longer, but also, scary as fuck if you escaped some technically-legal abusive environment, which you did, so. Lucky! I'll figure out a way to get you some-"

"I'd like to try now." Jeremiah interrupts, again. Tenses up. Impolite.

Smiling so widely it must hurt, Adam strides over, puts the plucked pancake back on the plate and pokes non-too-gently under Jay's ribs. "I was trying to buy time for my impulsive ass, this is not proper risk-aware medical practice. But, I'm also not going back on my word, so, let me go print out an informational leaflet so we can at least pretend I'm not breaking the law, yeah?"

"You flew me here in a private jet specifically to bypass the customs." Unimpressed, Jeremiah crosses one arm over his toro and takes a bite of his own half-forgotten food. It gets him a rough mussing of his freshly cut hair and, predictably, no response other than laughter as Adam shoves his head and takes off sprinting out the room.

Huffing lightly, amused, Jay finally takes a sip of his barely tepid coffee. It's rich, deliciously bitter, and the vanilla does add a little something; he could convince Adam to make coffee with ice cream all the time, if he's lucky.

Or he could just make it himself, since he'll be working the kitchen. He glances at the imposing, shiny coffee machine.

... Maybe not.

By the time he's finishing the second pancake, Adam pokes into the kitchen, waving some pastel papers through the door. "It's done! Come find me in my room when you've finished, I'll be getting everything out meanwhile." With that, he's gone again, the stairs thudding under his feet.

Needless to say, Jeremiah swallows the rest of his pancake in possibly worse offence to nature than Adam did.

He forces himself to stretch to get the food to fall down at least somewhat, and tries to walk like a normal person. Keyword being 'tries'. Scaling the stairs two at a time, he paces with the biggest steps he can keep looking somewhat acceptable to polite society toward Adam's door; it's open, so Jay slips in easily.

At his vanity, Adam has arranged two medical-looking tiny bottles of clear liquid, a syringe, a bunch of bandaids and- and packed needles, okay, of course. With a deep breath, Jeremiah shuts the door, and goes to get the papers Adam has gestured him toward while rummaging in a med kit.

Most of the things on the pretty pastel infographics, Adam has mentioned, though there's also increased risk of some male-typical diseases such as cholesterol issues.

Just imagining himself with a careful beard, bigger, broader body, maybe even with a sharper jaw if he's lucky, has Jeremiah salivating too much to care much about some disease he has the smallest amount of knowledge on. He flips over to the final page-

Oh, that's what Adam meant by 'T-dick'. That. Does look sort of like a phallus. Good Lord. Jeremiah licks his lips. Yeah, no, he can deal with a needle for this. He glances over to Adam just in time to see him punch bubbles out of the assembled syringe.

That needle is sharp. Does Testosterone hurt? Jeremiah only got given shots once in his life, against his parents' will at that, and that hurt, and his parents hated it and tried to exorcise him and-

"Earth to Jeremiah?" Syringe lowered, Adam waves his free hand with furrowed brows and narrowed lips, "Are you sure you don't want to wait for gel? We can get you more informed and shit, and there won't be any needles involved. It's okay to take care of your brain first."

It's okay. Forcing himself to breathe, Jeremiah sets the pages down and takes a step closer. "You mentioned you need one, too? Could you do it on yourself first, then?" With his shoulders this tight and hands clutching at each other so hard in front of his chest, he must look like a prey animal. He swallows, shifts his arms to be crossed. A bit better.

Shifting his syringe-hand the slightest bit, Adam hums, light. "Sure, whatever. I do it on my left hip, usually." And, true to word, he lifts his t-shirt with his thumb and pushes his boxers down with the rest of his fingers, quick and practiced.

Taking a small turn to make his actions clearer, Adam brings the needle closer- he doesn't even flinch. Just injects, pulls out the needle, sets it down on a little napkin on the vanity and smoothly bandaids over the spot. He pulls his boxers back in place.

Sunny, Adam's smiling when Jeremiah finally looks back up to his face. "Better than coffee, I'm telling you. Coffee's for energy, this-" He pats his hip, "is for the will to use it. Does that make sense? 'M not a poet." Glancing around as though he's searching for something, he takes off to his closet, and pulls out a box from the bottom, "D'you wanna do it yourself or for me to do it? If me, I have an idea that might calm you."

Oh. Hm. Adam clearly knows what he's doing, so it's probably a better idea to have him take care of it. Plus, the idea of stabbing himself with a needle damn near makes Jeremiah's legs give out; is it even a choice when the answer's so obvious? "You, please. You know all of the safety precautions and such, it only- what's that?"

"Oh!" Showing off the sleek, shimmery green on one side and smooth black on the other item, Adam glows, "It's a blindfold. One of my employees got it for me after I've complained about struggling to sleep one too many times, but it turns out I hate being unable to see when my eyes are open, so I've put it in the shame box. I hear these help people calm down, and in your particular case, you won't have to see what I'm doing! So it'll probably be less scary."

Jay bites his lip, walks over to where Adam sits on the ground with the blindfold offered out. "It's shaped weird." Taking the thing, he turns it over, soft material weirdly attached. Are the sockets meant to cover the eyes?

"That's so it can block out the most light. I hated that, but who knows, it might work better for you." Up from the floor, Adam extends a hand asking for the blindfold back, looks up to Jeremiah's face and adjusts the sockets a bit. He raises it up, as though to put on Jay, before pausing, "Oh, would you like to do that yourself, actually? I should've asked before just going for it."

Adam will- have him blindfolded, specifically to inject him with a drug. What was it Jeremiah's parents used to say about strangers and why can't he bring himself to feel anything but warm anyway, as though a cosy fireplace heating his face, chest and abdomen?

... Too warm, mouth watering at the very idea of- Adam, his hands around Jay's head adjusting the straps that will hold the blindfold in place, body no doubt going at least somewhat flush with Jay because of their height difference or- or Jay bowing down-

Mechanically, gingerly, Jay takes the blindfold for himself and fits it over his eyes. Another, highly specific reason to believe in God is, his complexion makes it very hard to notice when he blushes, as deep and vivid as his skin is.

Given the heat in his cheeks, it may just be noticeable anyway- Adam pushes him, no, guides him until his back is to the wall. The vanity and the door are to the left of him, now, the closet to the right; focus on recalling what the room looks like, imagine it from this angle, it's fine.

A gentle touch lifts up his t-shirt a bit over his right hip, takes his hand up to hold it. Jeremiah didn't know heat could pool from his body and between his legs this fast, didn't know he could be so warm. His cargo shorts get pushed down on one side, his boxers follow, and Adam secures it in place with Jay's other hand; is it possible to get light-headed off touch?

"Count your breathing so you keep your stress in check, okay? Four or five for in, hold and out is good to start with." Cheerful as ever from a little bit to the left, Adam says. Jay forces his lungs to drag in air, so much colder than his body. Somehow, counting in his head does nothing to dissipate the heat, the soft simmer remaining even.

He counts as he breathes, overly aware of the whisper-crackle of needle packaging and the sound of a tiny glass bottle being lifted off tile. It clinks back down after another count of five, and the clatter of a nail against the plastic of a syringe rings twice. Two more counts, another short clack, Adam's steps walking over; the rabbit who took over Jeremiah's heart must've been running a race to get there.

Pressing into him, Adam pins Jay's right leg in place with his own. Warm, smelling of vanilla, coffee and something heavy, musky just underneath, he hums, probably meant in comfort. "Counting?"

Jeremiah hums back, nods. A cold swab that just swiped against his hip pulls back, callused fingers framing over where it was.

"Good. Now listen to me count and follow, okay? Right now, in. One, two, three, four, five-" Adam starts, there's a pinprick in Jay's hip, a weird pinch, Adam pulls his hand away, "-two, three, four five, you can let out your breath, now." The same hand, left, ruffles gently through Jeremiah's hair.

Breathing out slowly, like a balloon deflating, Jeremiah eases his muscles. Adam has pulled away; so, he pushes off the blindfold, looking over just in time to see the needles be thrown in the trash. He kind of really wants to slide down the wall, and a hug. Adam's scent lingers in his nostrils.

Scratch this being God, it can only be demonic temptation.

"Fears overcome, damn! Good job, Jay-Jay. Want me to go grab us a victory snack or something?" Packing up the med kit, Adam grins.

Well. Jeremiah was never heading for Heaven; might as well bask in the liquid salvation warming his veins while it lasts. Unsteady, he smiles back and gives a thumbs up. Adam tells him to wait on the bed.

He got so much more than he bargained for when trying to get money for groceries in the only way he could think of. 'Lucky' doesn't cut it; Jeremiah must be wickedly blessed, or maybe cursed.

So long as he gets to keep this, he doesn't care.

(author's note: yes, their names are jeremiah and adam. don't question it and don't read into the symbolism unless you wanna be disappointed (or to surprise me), because i sure didn't, i was just handed these names by The Brain and rolled with it WHEEZE)

[one-black-rotary-phone]

Who's the Biggest Tattletale

Ranked from biggest tattletale/dibber-dobber to least. No reader.

TW for swearing, blackmail (yes really)/bullying (I think?), domestic/child abuse (Terrence Blake), violence, screaming.

Griffin

This boy can be a little shit sometimes. If he doesn't like someone and they do something at school, he will go straight to the nearest trustworthy teacher/staff and tell on them. Griffin can't hold his own in a fight that well (especially with older kids), so he settles for getting them reported as soon as possible.

Even then, if it's his family member or friend or something he'll basically blackmail them into doing what he wants or else he'll tattletale on what they did. He's pretty ruthless sometimes.

Billy

Listen, listen; Billy can be a real smart-ass dick when he wants to be. Telling on someone isn't his first thought in most situations--it's usually to get out of the situation at hand and try to let it play out--but he's not afraid to. He's the type to not tell on someone for shoplifting if he likes them but to definitely tell on someone he doesn't like for making the slightest mean comment. Priorities, I guess.

Billy's not so much of a straight-up blackmailer, but he will still be like with any family members his age of younger, "I'll tell your dad you stole broke my Superman doll last year if you don't give me back my Snickers bar." Wait, no, that is blackmailing, never mind.

Gwen

I love Gwen but she will report you if she doesn't like you and if it's serious enough. I mean, that on it's own sounds fair, but what I mean is don't cross her. Because if you do, you'll either have her chasing after you or you'll be in the principal's office for something you did like, last semester.

Her and her friend Susie probably gossip a lot as people do during sleepovers, so she's able to get dirt on others that way. Still, she'll make a deal with someone: don't tell on her to her father, and she won't tell on you. Anything to avoid getting in trouble.

Finney

Like sister, like brother. The only things holding Finney back from dobbing on someone are his fear of getting bullied and also his general sense of empathy. But trust me he's still very capable of doing it. He just doesn't report his bullies because if he does he'll get beaten by them. Tough world.

However, I imagine he also does it in a playful sense. He'll go, "I'm gonna report you if you don't stop teasing me!" but mean it lightheartedly. He probably won't actually report you, but he will walk up to the teacher and strike casual conversation to make it look like he is. It's kind of just how he shows he likes someone.

Bruce

Now we're getting into the "I'll never tell on you" section. Bruce is a pretty chill guy--it's part of the reason why he's so popular. He'll keep a secret most of the time. Honestly, he never bothers to tell on people when there's been a fight. Teachers will ask him what happened because they trust him, but he'll just say he walked right past it (and he probably did). Plus, the news will get around to them soon enough anyway.

However, Bruce still has a morale about him. He will report someone if they've done something truly bad or if they've hurt his friends. Bruce is loyal to people, and will adopt a "save the most" attitude, so if he has to report one friend to save more from getting bullied, he will do that. Just be nice, yeah?

Robin

Robin's literally so loyal to the people he's closest to. He'd barely tell on anyone for anything. His good friend got into a fight at school and the teachers want to know what happened? He doesn't have a clue. Yeah, sure, he bandaged his friend up after it happened, and he may have been giving them fighting tips earlier, but it's not like he was involved. Totally (/sarcasm)!

Robin's only gonna tell on someone if they, like, really, really hurt someone. Not even Vance's fights get from his mouth to the teacher's ears because he knows there's no point to that. Word will get around. But even if it was some super secret fight, he'd stay quiet about it and just make sure his friend is okay. So yeah, you've gotta really fuck up to get told on by him.

Vance

Vance tells on nobody. Ever. If they're somebody he likes, he keeps their secrets close to them. In fact, he's so wary of letting people's secrets out he doesn't let them tell him anything at all. And if it's someone he doesn't like? Simple; he just beats them up and/or screams at them.

Yeah, he's the best secret-keeper in town, surprisingly. Literally, if you are bursting to tell someone something but you just can't? Tell him. Just make sure you find the right time and be sure to not interrupt his pinball game. And be sure to have a few bandages on hand for the aftermath, too.

[yanphobia]

Cleithrophobia - Chapter 2

Cleithrophobia: The fear of being trapped.

Pairing: Yandere Male Drider OC x Reader

Warnings (for the entire story): Yandere, Horror, Graphic Discriptions of Injury and Death, Spiders, NonCon Touching, Possible NonCon (depending on reader's interpretation), Implied Female Reader (although it doesn't really factor too heavily into the plot), Extreme Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Chapter 1 Index Chapter 3

Author's Note: Wooow it's so nice to meet all of you! I was in the process of moving to a new city last week and didn't have the time to check on this account. But seeing how much support I've recieved in that time has been a great surprise ❤️ I'm going to be posting one chapter every weekend and this story has about ten chapters planned for it. Don't ever hesitate to say hi (or give me reading recommendations because I always love a new story!) Thank you so much for reading, and I hope that you'll enjoy this next installment!

This story was inspired by cobalt-sphinx's Drider x Reader from Quotev.

You were startled awake by Stan’s frantic pounding at the door. You bolted up and immediately regret it as pain floods through your shoulders and back. After last night’s encounter, you had immediately hidden yourself, terrified that that thing would break into your meager little cabin and attack you. You were on high alert, jumping at every sound outside of your window. As the sun began to rise, you must’ve passed out, still wearing your clothes from the night before. 

And now you’ve overslept, judging by Stan’s knocking. You open the door and step outside. 

“Stan, I am so, so sorry! I didn’t mean to oversleep.” You figured he’d be angry, but instead he looked worried. He took in your disheveled state but didn’t comment on it, most likely out of politeness. 

“...It’s fine, no worries. But I need your help. The new rabbit hutch we just built was torn into last night and something got to ‘em. Think it was a coyote. Anyway, today I’m gonna teach you how to reinforce fences so it don’t happen again.” You felt your stomach turn as he spoke. You knew. You knew exactly what had happened last night. 

You remain silent while he shows you exactly what to do. After a brief lesson, the two of you get to work. 

“’S a damn shame, too. Those where some premium New Zealand Whites. Now, granted, there were only the two, but I was looking forward to breeding ‘em. Great meat, ya know? Delicious.” 

“...Stan, exactly what type of animals live around here?” 

“Oh, tons. You mean the bad ones, though, right? Bears, wolves, mountain lions, coyotes, wolverines even. They can be nasty when they want. Thankfully they don’t attack often, just so long as you respect their space.” 

“...And... anything else? Are there any, I don’t know, myths or urban legends or anything about something really crazy living in the woods?” 

“I’m sure! These lands are old, ma’am, and have been home to some very strange folk over the years. Native Americans, you know, and then settlers, all with their own superstitions,” Stan laughed lightheartedly. “But none I ever heard, not even a Bigfoot sighting. Guess that’s natural, though. The way stories and things just get lost over time.” 

As Stan left to reinforce the turkey fences, and you finish up work on the chicken’s, you thought about what he had said. Things really do get lost over time, you thought to yourself. You certainly had. Once, you had dreamed of a happy life for yourself, with a career that you were passionate about and a family that you cherished. You had wanted to begin your life as soon as possible and quickly began creating it without a second thought. But as you matured a bit, and as each goal came closer to fruition, the doubt began to creep in. You fell out of love with your chosen field of study and stayed up at night worrying that you would spend your life working a job that you despised. When your partner, Alex, began describing your future together, excited at the prospect of marriage and starting a family, you only felt smothered. You were being forced, you quickly realized, dragged into an existence that you did not want and could not escape from. 

Thinking about this made you uncomfortable, and so you forced it out of your mind. 

The day passed without any further incidents, the next one as well. Well, it did until night fell. You had been walking towards your cabin, eager for a hot shower and a bit of relaxation, when you heard the panicked squawking of the chickens. They were out, everywhere, and hysterical. A quick look told you that the gate enclosing the designated area for them and one of the coups had been unlatched, allowing their escape. You quickly rushed back to the house, throwing open the door and calling for Shadow. 

“What’s wrong?!” Laura asked, startled by your sudden appearance. She had nearly dropped the dish she was washing. 

“Chickens got out. Don’t worry, I can handle it!” you responded quickly, although you knew that Laura would never miss the opportunity to help out. The two of you and your herding dog were quick to start gathering the chickens when you noticed that a few had been scratched up. Immediately, you knew who the culprit was. He had tricked you at first, admittedly, by simply opening the gates instead of tearing into them, but when Laura noted that two of the chickens were missing, you felt your fury grow stronger inside of you. 

It was a game, you realized, just a sick game that monster was playing until he decided to kill you. To kill Laura and Stan. Maybe even more. It wouldn’t happen, not to such lovely people. You had brought this farm to his attention, and you wouldn’t allow him to hurt anyone because of it.  

You found yourself slamming your cabin door open, grabbing a flashlight and a bowie knife, and charging into the forest. You didn’t even hear Laura’s desperate calls for you to come back. 

[gargalezthesia]

Frozen Naps

wc: 1,075

chr: kaeya & diluc

sum: kaeya gets stuck, and the last person he wants to come rescue him does just that.

once again dni luckae shippers 😻

Kaeya Ragnvindr. Knight, brother, lover, hero to many. Enemies cower when they hear his name, as he’s well trained in the fighting portion as he’s the Cavalry Captain.

And this Cavalry Captain was stuck.

In order to work his very best, he would take naps when he was too tired to work. Usually he takes these naps in solitary confinement with Klee, but today he felt like he wanted to get some fresh air while he sleeps. Bad idea.

Leading to the moments before he got stuck, he was sleeping next to a lake. Lakes usually have birds around them and fish in them, of course he knew that.

This time, though, a bird had woken him up in a panic. It landed on him and made him stir awake, see the bird looking down on him, and scared him into consciousness.

Unfortunately for him, his fear had activated his vision and made a thick layer of ice over both of his hands. After the bird had left, he tried hard to thrash out of the ice and break free, but as it was so thick it was futile. With that, he landed on his last resort: Yelling for help.

He yelled until his throat had gotten sore, and once again, to his luck, the last person he wanted had come to his rescue.

“Kaeya?!” Diluc yelled back, rushing over to his brother. He had assumed the worst, a droplet of sweat beading on his head. When he had gotten closer to him though, the situation was far more apparent.

“..Diluc.” Kaeya broke their silence. After Diluc had reached him, they both simply stared at each other. One in embarrassment, and one in confusion.

Then he burst out laughing.

“Kahahaeya, how did yohou-“ He bent down in a fit of laughter, Kaeya hiding his face in his forearm. “I was just— Napping, and, um— Well, I..got stuck.” He paused, allowing Diluc to compose himself. “Aha, yes, very funny. Now, at least you have a pyro vision! Please, dear brother, melt the ice?”

Diluc stood there for a moment, putting a hand to his chin in thought. “No, not yet.”

Kaeya furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, about to question his thinking, when Diluc had sat himself onto his thighs. What in the world? “Diluc, what are you doing? Let me g-OHO!” He arched his back, looking down to see two hands on either side of his ribs. Oh, no.

“Well, brother. Seems your luck has run out, hm? If I recall, you tick-..Tickl- Ugh. You did that thing to me, so why not return the favor to you?” Kaeya’s breath hitched, keeping his mouth closed as giggles had already started to surface in his chest.

Diluc slowly moved his fingers down the length of Kaeya’s ribs, smiling at the way he jerked at specific ones. “B-Brother, thihis is not nehecessary-“ After he had spoken, more and more giggles had started spilling out on accident.

“Oh, but if I said that, you would have said something along the lines of ‘I think it’s very necessary for someone who doesn’t laugh’.” Kaeya burst out into giggles at the imitation Diluc had made of him, squirming harder at the hands that were scribbling over his ribs.

“Dihihiluc!! Nohoho! Plehehease, get me ohoHOHOUT! AHAHA!” In the midst of his talking, Diluc had started to dig into the ribs that made Kaeya thrash the most. “Not yet, have patience.”

Kaeya has already developed a deep red on his face, finding the whole situation extremely embarrassing yet absolutely adoring it.

Kaeya squealed when his brother moved his hands down to his neck, arching his back up and crashing it back down, making dust come up from the ground. “NAHAHA! NOHOHOT THEHERE!” Kaeya wailed. Diluc only fastened his pace, knowing Kaeya’s limit by heart. “When you say ‘not there’, it only makes someone want to stay there.”

Kaeya attempted to growl at Diluc lightheartedly, but it only made him laugh as his growl came out as his laugh but much deeper. Diluc pulled up Kaeya’s shirt a bit to snake his hands under it, and that action alone made Kaeya shriek.

Diluc slowly circled his finger around Kaeya’s navel, his giggles dying down in volume. “Plehehease..Nohoho..Juhuhust let me ohout!”

Kaeya whined as Diluc’s finger had started closing in on the goldmine. Moments after he closed his eyes and prepared himself, it all stopped. He slowly opened his eyes and Diluc grinned at him evilly, immediately digging into his button. Kaeya screamed.

“OH AHAHARCHONS NOHOHO! DIHIHIHILUC! STAHAHAAA—“ Kaeya arched his back for the third time, shaking his head and trying his best to break out of the ice that held his arms up. Diluc only vibrated harder into it, making the Captain go silent.

Diluc softened the tickling to just skittering over his button, making Kaeya try to curl up while he squealed. “It’s so endearing remembering this is only your second worst spot.” Kaeya tried to retort, but Diluc had stood up to sit on his knees, positioning his hands on his thighs. Dear lord.

Kaeya fell silent, this time not from tickles but from pure anticipation and excitement. “Well,” Diluc started, “Are you ready?” Kaeya scoffed. “Of course not.” Diluc chuckled, and that only made Kaeya even more scared.

When Diluc finally went in for the kill and vibrated his fingers into Kaeya’s thighs, he wheezed, letting out the loudest cackles he has all day. “DIHIHILUC! NOHOHOHO! LEHEHET ME OHOHOUT AHAHAHALREHEADY!” Diluc chuckled, and after a few minutes of Kaeya’s bucking, screaming, and begging, he got off of his legs to sit next to his head.

While Kaeya gave his lungs what they needed the most, Diluc took off his glove and used his vision to melt the ice around Kaeya’s wrists. Kaeya immediately brought them down, hugging himself and curling onto his side. Diluc patted his back, looking down at his exhausted brother. “How did you even get stu-“

Before Diluc could finish his sentence, Kaeya had tackled him and frozen his wrists into ice. Diluc looked up at a now smug yet blushy Kaeya, in confusion and horror. God damn it, he wasn’t that exhausted, was he?!

Kaeya wiggled his fingers over Diluc’s underarms, making him jerk away. “Well, brother, did you really think I would let you go that easily?”

Diluc could’ve melted the ice, but he didn’t. Maybe he’ll allow it, just this once.