#I'm inevitably going to notice errors

[monarchberrysblog]

Hmo but

What if Miguel finds out you used to date the Harry Osborn from your world? You and Harry used to date but broke up on friendly terms but then you meet sometime where Miguel’s visiting your world for a date, and then his possessive instinct is like: She’s mine 😏

Then ✨smut✨ and ofc he has a marking kink

INTERLINKED

credit to @r3ds_art_ on Twitter and Instagram!

✭ 🔞 Miguel O’Hara x fem! Reader ✭

✮ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: possessive (adj.) → demanding someone’s total attention and love. having the knowledge that you used to be with someone left a sour taste in miguel’s mouth. especially knowing that you are still in good terms with them to this day.

✭ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: biting kink? (idk what it’s called), cumplay (?), unprotective p-in-v, semi-exhibitionism (y'all get caught), possessive behavior (kinda?)

✭ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: +1.7k words

✭ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: mwehehehe (once again, if there are errors i apologize in advance as i felt like i read this multiple times and don't see any errors) enjoy!

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 | 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀��𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃

Harry was your first love. Something so fleeing that if you were to blink or glance at it, it disappeared instantly. It blurred into your life the way acrylic colors blended to create a clash of colors like a summer evening in July. It was all tangy and sweet, with a scalding, sweaty undertone. Beautiful yet uncomfortable to endure.

He was sweet, resembling a sweet syrup in any refresher you would get in a coffee shop. Sweet, yet messy. The sap wasn't noticeable until it became unbearable to have in between your fingers.

Enduring the sappy-like texture on the tip of your fingers, wiping the mess clean from your skin, bonding with Henry became inevitable. You didn't want to let him go, but it was for the better for each other.

But after growing out of each other, things ended with a silver lining—growing and learning within a long distance from each other.

Then, you met Miguel.

Another man from another dimension.

Meeting someone from another world was not on your bucket list, let alone in the span of goals you had for the next few years or so. But Miguel managed to tergiversate his way into your plans (and heart). He fit right into your life like a puzzle piece you didn't know was missing.

And you love it.

/

“Is your dish okay? Because if it isn't, I can send it back and—” You fade his rambles with a gentle touch on his hand. “Yes, it's perfect Migs. Thank you.” The sound of cutlery clicking on the white ceramic plates complimented the ambiance of the warm-lit dining area.

Small chatter created a cozy environment that made anyone lull to sleep. “And please, don't yell at the chef like last time.” You forcefully giggle and can almost imagine the events playing out like a storyboard.

“They didn't give you the grilled chicken fillet.” He grumbles, looking away from his dish and to the side, keeping his gaze on the maroon carpet. “Hey,” You gently cupped his cheek, disregarding your silverware. “It’s okay. Sometimes, we make mistakes on off days. It's nothing new.”

“I know,” He pouts. “I just want you to have a warm meal.”

“And I'm grateful for your well-being. Just don't yell at the chef and make them cry again. Please.” You plead, gently rubbing his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb. “…okay.” He grumbles in defeat, taking your hand away from his face and gently holding your hand with a reassuring squeeze.

“I won’t.”

/

You worked on your dish, taking in pasta forkfuls and grilled chicken. Miguel keeps a close eye while eating his dish, savoring his fillet mignon. You basked in the silence, probably in your little world while with him. But a single greeting broke the mellow silence. “Hey,”

It wasn't just a simple “Hey” to get someone’s attention. Instead, it was an exasperated one. The exhale is a sign of relief—the relief of seeing someone familiar after a long period of time. A sigh that read, “Oh, it's been a while; I missed seeing you..”

Miguel’s head turned for him without his brain enabling his thought process. “Oh, hey, Harry.” You smile, showing off your little dimples to him. “What brings you here?” Harry makes his way over to the two of you, unaware of the daggers that Miguel was throwing at him. “I’m here with Miguel. My boyfriend.”

Harry turns his attention to your aggravated partner, oblivious to the aura Miguel sent. “Already moved on? That was fast.”

Not an amusing joke, even for Harry. He lets out a forced laugh, hoping to drown out the awkward air around them—it only made it more suffocating to be in that bubble. “It's been a couple of years.” You laughed, trying to ease the unsteady environment. But it was laughable beyond that point.

While exchanging words, Harry’s wavering eyes remained on you, taking in every feature about you. “You work here?” You ask as you look up at Harry. “As a server only.”

Your smile, cute dimples, everything caught Harry’s attention. It felt like he was looking at the playing field and wondering if he was about to get to second base. The conversation dragged like a snail, going slowly for Miguel.

“But it was nice seeing you.” The only best solution was stepping on the awkward waters rising as Harry nodded and sighed. “Yes, it was nice seeing you too. But let me know if you guys need anything.” With a simple nod, he walks off almost in a rushed manner.

/

“Jesus.” Miguel was now away from the warm dining area of the restaurant and now in the men’s room. He stood in the handicap stall momentarily, burying his face into his palms. The last thing he needed to happen was for you to lecture him on his behavior, especially now that Harry had dropped by unannounced.

“You’re exaggerating, you're exaggerating.” He repeats the mantra, sounding like a possessed man. If anyone were to walk in, some eye brows would have been raised. But after repeating the phrase a couple more times, he stops and rubs his eyes, much to his doctor's dismay about the habit.

“It's fine.” He thinks, reaching for the stall door to step out. But the sound of a familiar voice and a different voice enter the washroom. “Who was that woman who you greeted earlier?”

“An ex,” Harry states matter of factly.

“You miss her, don't you?” The other voice inquires as if they anticipated drama. “I've seen the way you look at her.” The other voice adds. “Yeah, but just as friends! It's been a while since we last spoke.”

A little, just a little?

“But she's with someone else.” Harry stumbles his words, attempting to redeem his words.

“And you don't seem okay with that.” A lingering silence suffocates space immediately. A sigh from Harry fills the space, shattering the awkwardness.

“I'm okay with it. I just miss her company.”

The corner of Miguel’s lip subtly twitches, a sign of irritation. He waits, waiting for the two men to finish their discussion. It wasn't until ten minutes later that they finally left. Almost as if he were following behind, Miguel steps out of the stall silently, feeling his senses get overwhelmed with his typical possessive return once again.

/

“Keep it down for me, bebe. Can you do that for me?” He bites down on your neck and nibbles on your skin. The flat of his tongue lathers against the bite crevices, soothing the dull, aching pain. “Your canines…” Your comment fell silent before his lips kissed the now red mark against your flesh before his hands worked quickly to raise the hem of your skirt. “Shhh, we don't need to get kicked out, do we?” He whispers. The family bathroom immediately got filled with scuffles and moving around of clothes. His ring and pointer finger ghost at your clothed cunt, dragging the tips of his fingers down your entrance, feeling the dampness.

“I just bit you, and you’re all riled up? Pobrecita.” He pouts to you and slowly moves the gusset of your underwear to the side gently with a tug. “Just keep it down for me, okay? Can you do that for me?” His gentle movements drew out soft whines and moans from your mouth like word vomit while his fingers traced your entrance, drawing out your glistening arousal.

"Just be quiet for me," he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, helping himself to another bite of your soft skin. He follows his fingers, delving into your fluttering wall, eagerly taking his fingers in. "Shhh..." The sound of wet, sticky gushes fills the family room bathroom, with your mess dripping down onto the floor and occasionally on the bathroom wall.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, occasionally feeling his two fingers curl slightly. You bit down on your bottom lip, humming out your pleasure to the rhythm of his finger moving in and out.

"Don't make a mess, I don't want you to ruin my watch."

The soft thrusting of his fingers moved rapidly, pulling his fingers out completely before shoving his fingers back into your needy pussy. The rapid thrusts became too much, releasing your mess along with your cum all over the floor before you. "Ay, ya te dije." He pulls his fingers out, shaking his hand dry and lifting you up on the sink counter. "I told you to not make a mess." He put a resting finger against your fluttering core, lightly pushing down to soothe the stretch.

"Spread for me a bit, nena." He whispers and grasps onto your thighs, helping you. You could already imagine the mess you left behind the counter, leaving a glistening mess on the marble. You open up for him with a meek "Okay." You feel your legs trembling against the cold marble. You watch on as Miguel hurries to take off his pants, shoving the pants down quickly and dragging you close to his aching member.

A soft moan escaped your lips, feeling his length rub against your core and clit, lightly thrusting his length in between your entrance. "Let me just prepare myself," He whispers, slowly collecting your slick against his length. You let out a whine before you let out a moan, feeling his tip occasionally slip in between your folds. He thrusted his tip in a couple more times before he continued to grind his length against your clit.

“There we go. Let’s get you comfortable.” He whispers into your ear before he slowly pushes himself in, earning a loud moan from you. He immediately covered your mouth, muffling your beautiful sounds.

“Shh, be good and keep it down.” He whispers while gently pushing his tip against your cervix, occasionally earning a soft cry in pain. You felt him slowly pull out and keep a gentle pace. “Is that better, nena?” He croons into your ear. He grinds his length into you, trying to keep your moans and mews at a limit.

“So good, cariño.” He whispers. “Come on, hold on for a while.” His fingers trace the soft red marks on your neck, putting pressure to soothe the pain.

“I want us to be in here for a moment.”

/

The two of y'all rushed out of the bathroom, getting chased out of the restaurant by two servers. “And get out of here! Never come back!” They yell out as soon as the two of you scurry out while adjusting your clothes. You exchanged breathy laughs with each other when you felt the cold air nip at your skin.

“I told you to keep it down.”

[sydneymykah]

☆MY FASHION ICONS☆

How to turn influence into originality

I think everyone should have at least 2 - 3 different fashion icons. Whether it's an artist, model, designer, fictional character or even cartoon. It's these influences that can help build upon your own fashion sense and style. Relating and gravitating towards certain people can help us decide how we want to present ourselves to the world. Help us find our inner confidence shine through to the physical. Taking bits and pieces from other influences to make something completely your own.

This post is in three sections

1. How finding your influences can help you find your style

2. My icons and their style

3. How I use their influence to find my own original style

(Also I use fashion icon and style icon interchangeably. The basis is just someone who’s fashionable and has a style you feel inspired by)

Lets get into it

FINDING INFLUENCE

Maybe you watched a movie when you were younger and a character dawned an outfit that has stuck with you forever. A specific show or movie has stayed with you simply because of the fashion alone. You discovered that you would give anything to dress like the people you grew up seeing on your screens. To a celebrity's iconic street style or a characters impeccable fashion choices. What we naturally gravitate towards is what inevitably ends up being our main influence. Knowing what we are inspired by helps us figure out how we want to represent ourselves. Today I'm focusing on fashion and style.

If you're someone who wants to figure out what inspires you I'd suggest to go explore all genres of films and tv. Regardless the decade I bet you, you will find a movie or show that resonates with you in terms of fashion/style and aesthetics. Pinterest of course is also an amazing place to look for inspo. Especially if you already have an idea of what you want but need expanding upon it. Environment also affects inspiration. I've seen people's style and how they express themselves completely change because they moved abroad or just simply to a new city. I hope people who read this who are in an environment who cant express themselves the way they want are able to find a place for them someday. If you cant find an environment physically, I'd suggest finding one online. Twitter communities, Tumblr and discord servers pertaining to your interests can help you extremely.

Now, people might struggle to take what inspires them and make something of their own without looking like a straight up carbon copy. Not knowing how to build a style and not look like they're wearing a costume. What I've found to be helpful is to start off by noticing patterns with how your influences dress. If one is a celebrity you can probably find interviews of them talking about the style you're trying to implicate. If it's a character(s) there's a high chance there are YouTube videos and even tiktoks dissecting their style. The best part about this is that you can pick and choose what you like and what you want to try out.

That is also how you eventually find your own style through influence. You have to do things through trial and error. I know that makes people wince because they don't want to look ridiculous but it's true. The main thing you need is confidence. And if you don’t have that fake it till you make it sis. I can think of many people and celebrities who started off one way and evolved into the icons they are today. To people like Rihanna, Bella Hadid, and Sabrina Carpenter. Even with them you can see what influences their style. Rihanna (who has gone through many fashion phases) once being very heavily influenced by 80's UK British punk rock style and Americana. Bella recently being influenced by vaquero and cowgirl chic fashion because of her current cowboy boyfriend Adan Banuelos. Sabrina being very influenced by baby doll aesthetics, lingerie, and 60's style of clothing. You can see with all of their influences they're able to make it theirs. Of course they have stylists to help them(not to take away from their own creativeness) but you can still find ways to help yourself.

Even I am in the trial and error stage. Finding out what I like and what my current influences wear that I want to try too. What helps me is making mood boards and finding pieces that look similar to the ones my inspirations wear. It’s important to note that just buying statement pieces won’t help you build style because it’s harder to create different outfits with them. Basics are VITAL. So don’t overlook them when dissecting your influences. Let me show you how I dissect the patterns and fashion sense my fashion icons have and how I use these as blueprints in figuring out how I want to style myself.

MY ICONS

FRAN FINE

Played by the fabulous Fran Dresher, Fran Fine was the main character in the extremely popular and iconic sitcom of the 90's "The Nanny". Fran being a flashy girl from Flushing Queens who stumbles into a nanny job taking care of rich bachelor Maxwell Sheffield's three kids. The shows main plot is the will they won't they dynamic between Fran and Mr. Sheffield and how unconventional of a nanny Fran is.

Her unconventional yet charming nature reflects in her many iconic outfits. Many pieces being traditionally sophisticated like blazers and turtlenecks are made more flirty and tempting with mini skirts. Frans style didn't shy away from any sort of color, texture or pattern. Wearing things that range from a brick pantsuit, a rainbow sequined strap dress, tiger print blazer and mini skirt set, many bright colored fur coats, and full vinyl and leather matching sets. Her main inspo to her fashion seems to take from 60’s and mod fashion trends. Especially with her big hair and headbands being her main choice of accessory.

Frans typical silhouette would consist of some sort of turtleneck or vest. If she wore a vest it'd usually would have some sort of blouse underneath (collared or another turtleneck). Her bottoms would either be fitted pants, a mini skirt, or a mini dress. Frans signature shoe was a classic pump heel and would usually wear some sort of stocking or tights with them. (usually black) Occasionally she'd switch out the pumps for a boot that would either be reminiscent of 60's mod or just a regular heeled boot. Fran loved a matching set so typically her skirts would usually match her jackets. Her jackets typically being cropped or regular sized blazers. A lot of them being fur trimmed.

CHER

Cher is a famous musician, actress and Tv host. She was the IT girl of the 70's deemed " Goddess of Pop" and was known muse for the incredible Bob Mackie, one of my favorite fashion designers.

Cher was known for her impeccable and ground breaking style. She was unique and was never afraid to dress outside the box. Proudly showing off her stomach and wearing very risqué mesh outfits. Cher's approach to fashion was like a hybrid of bohemian, Disco and old Hollywood glamour. The main thing I think of when it comes to Cher is how she was almost always decked out in sequins and diamonds. Forever sparkling and shining in the cameras. Looking like a colorful disco ball. Cher was also known to not shy away from feathers, furs, and metallics. Considering she can technically be considered a showgirl and had her own popular show filled with musical numbers it makes sense for her to wear that sort of fashion.

Cher's classic silhouette was usually some sort of form fitting, skin showing dress or two piece. She would start off covered in some sort of shawl or jacket that was usually fur or covered in feathers. Then she would reveal her outfit. Typically the outfit would show some a lot of skin, usually her stomach, chest and arms. She was almost aways wearing cross body dresses and tops. a top that would wrap around Chers chest but still show off her core and arms. If Cher wasn't wearing a dress with this type of top she was wearing flared disco pants/Bell bottoms. Similar to Fran, Cher never strayed from interesting patterns and designs. Both very flashy and fashion forward women who knew how to light up a room with just their style alone.

JEM

Jem, from the 80’s cartoon "Jem and the Holograms" is the lead singer of her pop rock band of the same name. Not only that but she’s also secretly Jerrica Benton, the groups manager and owner of her late father's record label starlight music. Jem's 80's fashion can only be described as truly outrageous along with her big pink hair.

Jem of the Holograms was a unique show not only for its premise but because the main cast almost always had a new outfit every episode. Jem didn’t have a consistent silhouette but her outfits were adjacent or the inverse to her alter self. Jerrica being more conservative and covered while jem was more flashy and glamourous. Like a rock star should. One thing consistent with jem were her colors. Pink being her iconic color along with purple, light blue, fuchsia, and yellow.

Jem wore everything from pant suits, bodycon dresses, ball gowns, evening gowns, trench coats, matching sets, and bodysuits. All with 80’s trends like shoulder pads, fingerless gloves, popped collars, patterns like polka dots, layered necklaces, and mini skirts (one reminiscent of tutus artists like Cyndi Lauper and Madonna would wear) The one accessory that stays consistent with her is her gem star earrings and if you notice in the show are the bands symbol. In many of her outfits she dawns a star shape or pattern

*Note that not just Jem inspires my fashion tastes in the show but other characters as well. The other person inspiring me second to her is her antagonist Pizzazz who I've opted as my alter ego. especially considering Jem wears pink and Pizzazz wears green, (opposite colors)

CREATING YOUR OWN STYLE

If it’s not obvious based off the three examples I gave, I like dressing like the brightest thing in the room. The star. The showgirl. The main character of you will. I like to be dressed up even if I’m the only one doing so. So naturally I gravitate to people (or characters) who dress like that. Showgirls like Lola Falana and Josephine Baker inspire me too. Now what I do is take the inspirations and make a mood board. You might've seen my "The Vibe I Bring to the Function" post. That is one example. I've created many moldboards of the type of style I want to have. By taking those influences I notice the similarities between them then make a base line. Here's what I've noticed with mine:

Sequins and rhinestones

Feathers and fur

Leather/Vinyl

Figure hugging

Skin showing

Bodysuits

Turtlenecks

Fitted Blazers/Suits

Flared pants/Bell Bottoms

Matching skirt/pants and jacket sets

Animal Print

Bold Prints/Patterns

Cross body/Halter tops

Bold and bright colors

Then I take this andattribute it to what I know looks good on me. Like certain accessories. for example headbands and bamboo hoops (usually in gold). Speaking of you should also learn your colors. Coincidentally Jems colors are actually some of mine. Especially the color pink. But like I said above trial and error is how you soon figure out what works for you and what doesn't. I used to have a romper body suit once that was baggy with spaghetti straps. The pants were hemmed with elastic so it looked like sweatpants… That's when I realized that if I wanna wear a bodysuit it looks better if its form fitting and flared at the leg lol. Asking people what looks good on you helps a lot too. A lot of the stuff I figured out looks good on me is because I consulted some good friends. When it comes to my environment I'm in an astrology discord chat with some close friends and long story short I'm associated with peacocks so I consider that into my style as well. I'm also from the south so southern inspired outfits also intrigue me. I take this all and experiment with it. I currently have a bunch of animal prints in my close to a peacock corset to an orange velvet bellbottoms. This is only the beginning.

At the end of it all it comes down to experimenting, finding what looks good and realizing that what you gravitate towards. Learning to style yourself is as easy as looking up the basics on YouTube and building on from there. Your icons in fashion will help you get to the direction you want and one day you’ll see how much you’ve developed.

Also ALWAYS remember that you’re in charge here. You can change whenever and whatever you want. You don’t have to find your style and stick with it forever. Like I mentioned before Rihanna has been through multiple different fashion phases, we’re seeing the same with Doja cat as well. Your influences now can be completely different later. Whether it’s your environment or tastes that change. Whatever you find in life that influences you. So today I might be dressing like a 70's showgirl the next a man-eater vampire. Still me at the end of the day. And whoever your icons are, or whatever your inspired by at the end of it all should be reflection of how you want to express yourself.

✧─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Xoxo, Sydney Mykah -☆

[demonpiratehuntress]

the best gift is you

OPLA!Zoro x F!Reader

Summary - You're having an incredibly difficult time finding an appropriate birthday present for Zoro.

Warnings - none, i think? I just wrote this right after hosting a soccer festival for an orphanage at my club, so I'm pretty much dead but wanted to get something out for my favourite Straw Hat's birthday <3 please excuse any errors, and happy birthday Zoro <3 <3 <3

"Usopp! Come with me."

You were just dragging the confused and slightly startled sharpshooter - because why did you want him to go shopping with you? - across the deck when you heard your boyfriend call out to you.

"Where are you going?"

You froze, having not expected him to be up from his nap so soon, "Um, grocery shopping?"

He frowned, "I can go with you."

"No!" You said quickly, then backtracked when you noticed how he became even more confused - and slightly hurt. "I mean, sorry babe but I really need Usopp's help with this specific trip."

This only confused the swordsman more, but before he could argue you were pulling the blabbering, protesting Usopp off the ship and into the small town. You could explain later, and make it up with the present, because you wanted this to be a surprise.

Zoro was left more puzzled than ever, wondering why you didn't even want him to go with for protection. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, so he guessed you must have your reasons. Then it hit him.

Oh...no.

"You two fighting or something?" Sanji asked from above.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Was Zoro's snarky response, coupled with an annoyed eyeroll. Sanji scoffed, but even he knew better than to further antagonise the already upset swordsman.

A few hours later...

"Ugh! Why is this so hard?!"

Your frustrated protest alarmed your crewmate, who had been eyeing a pair of sniper goggles at a nearby stand. You were practically pulling your hair out, on the verge of hot, angry tears, and your bottom lip was trembling.

"I can't go back without one!"

"You still haven't told me exactly what we're looking for," Usopp reminded you.

"Something Zoro would like," you sighed, "Or need. But there's nothing here. And it's almost dark out."

"Can't you just find something at the next island?"

"No! It has to be today, it has to..." You trailed off, biting your lip and trying your hardest to hold back tears.

"Why?"

"I...Because it has to."

You'd spent the last few hours scouring every shop on this island, but you had no idea what to get your boyfriend. He already had everything he needed, and there was nothing he wanted to your knowledge, so he was pretty difficult to shop for. He wasn't a typical boyfriend, that much you knew, so matching chains or charms wouldn't be appropriate. It was bugging you so much that you wanted to cry.

"Let's get back to the ship."

You took off before Usopp could question you, so he just followed without a word. Your behaviour baffled him, and slightly worried him, but he wasn't going to press any more if you didn't want to tell him. When you both got back to the ship, the green-haired swordsman was anxiously pacing the deck - the first time Usopp had seen him this nervous. The first time any of them - minus you - had seen him this nervous. But when you boarded, he breathed a sigh of relief.

His relief quickly morphed into concern when he noticed your eyes glistening with tears, and within seconds he was in front of you, hands gripping your forearms gently.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," you choked out, the tears free-falling. "I couldn't find anything. I looked everywhere. I looked so hard. I don't know...I didn't...I'm sorry..." You tried to wipe your tears away, but he beat you to it.

Usopp was long gone, not sticking around to see yours and Zoro's inevitable affection - the rest of the crew seemed allergic to your displays. So Zoro pulled you close, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. He reached up with one hand to brush the tears falling away, his expression softening.

"Hey," he spoke softly, "Look at me." He continued only once you met his gaze, "I don't need anything. I don't want anything. You are enough, okay? More than enough, actually. You don't need to get me anything, because you've already given me the greatest gift in the world. You." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger there for a few seconds.

A soft blush crossed your cheeks, the disappointment in you slowly deflating until it was nothing more than an afterthought. You sniffled as you smiled up at him, your body filling with warmth at his words - and at the look of absolute love and adoration he was blessing you with right now.

"I love you. You are all that I want, and all that I need. Don't ever apologise for something as silly as a birthday gift."

Before you could protest, his lips were on yours and he was locking you in the most loving, passionate kiss he had ever given you. He was trying to convey his message through the kiss, proving that you were all he craved. Proving that you were his favourite gift of all.

"I love you too," you smiled even more when he pulled away to let you breathe - ironically you were breathless.

"Good, now can we please go and sleep?"

You laughed, allowing him to pick you up and carry you off to bed.

"Whatever the birthday boy wants."

"Whatever I want, huh?"

"I thought you wanted to sleep!"

"...Changed my mind."

[alwaysbemygoodgirl]

Delivery

It was his last delivery of the night. David pulled up in front of the ground floor apartment unit, carried the bag inside and up to the door, and rang the doorbell.

And waited.

And rang the doorbell again.

Finally the door opened. "Good evening, ma'am. I have your delivery. I'll just need to see some ID." The words were out of his mouth before he processed the state of the woman standing in front of him.

She was half dressed, in only a too-tight shirt and a pair of underwear, clinging to the door jamb, and looking up at him in a vain effort to focus her eyes. Her mouth hung open. "Huh?"

"ID. I'll need to see some ID for the booze you ordered."

"Oh. Booze. Right," she slurred. She let go of the doorjamb, then immediately grabbed onto it again. Hanging on by one hand, her body swayed away from the door jamb, then slammed back into it as she caught herself in time. The impact rippled through the mound of belly protruding below the bottom of her shirt, but she didn't seem to even feel it.

David stared openly at the drunk woman, realizing she was too far gone to notice him noticing her. She had long, loose blonde hair, fat cheeks, fat breasts, fat thighs, and a very vacant expression. Her eyes flew open momentarily, allowing him to see that they were blue, and then the lids sank again, barely open.

"Right," she said. With some difficulty, she managed to stagger a few steps to a table, pick up her purse, and stagger back to the doorway. There was a brief comedy of errors before he realized she was handing him the purse and expecting him to retrieve the ID.

Well, that was a level of coordination well beyond her capabilities right now. Obligingly, David set down the bag and retrieved her ID, acting slowly while he tried to think through his options.

"Katrina. That's a pretty name."

At the sound of her name, Katrina perked up a little bit and smiled. She had a sweet smile.

"Twenty-three years old, I see. Plenty legal. Been having a fun evening?"

"Yeah. Uh huh. I'm really drunk."

"I can see that, ma'am. The problem is that I'm not allowed to sell you booze if you're already drunk. So maybe you're just high?"

"Uh, yeah. I had a lot of edibles. Four. Or five? I don't remember." Katrina smiled winningly at him. "I'm not really that smart."

"I can see that too. And you're also really sweet and really pretty. And I want to sell you this booze. So maybe if you can pass a sobriety test, I can let you have it."

"Uh, okay. What do I need to do?" She was still clinging to the doorway, swaying with every involuntary jerk of her knees.

David looked up and down the hallway. It was empty.

"Well, can you come out into the hallway and walk in a straight line?"

"Uh...sure."

He took a few steps back. "Just come out here and walk over to me."

As Katrina swayed and staggered, banging into the wall and pushing off it again, leaning against and moving forward and backward again, David kept walking backwards, holding the bag with the two bottles. He kept going, slowly and steadily, until the drunk Katrina inevitably fell down.

He lunged in toward her, falling to his knees, and putting his arms around her. "Are you okay?!"

She leaned in against him. Or maybe that was just the involuntary swaying. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Can I have some booze? I need a--I need a drink."

"Well, I want to, sweetie, but you're drunk, and you didn't pass the sobriety test. I also remembered I've got to film you so I have proof you were sober and I don't get in trouble. You want to try again?"

Katrina let David help her to her feet and turn her around, and they walked back in the direction of her door. Him walking backwards and holding up his phone to film her, her giggling and swaying as she followed him.

She staggered past her open door without even noticing, just following him and the bag of booze he was carrying. Though she kept her feet this time, by dint of having figured out she needed to just lean against the wall the whole time, she stumbled when he came to an abrupt stop right at the door, and there was nothing to grab onto.

This time he caught her before she fell, and he stood there holding and steadying her.

"I need a drink."

"I know you need a drink, and I really want to give it to you, but I have to make sure you pass a sobriety test first. Maybe if I put my arms around you and help you walk, you can stay in a straight line."

"Okay!" she chirped.

"But we'll have to do it inside your apartment, because I don't want anyone seeing that I helped you so I could give you alcohol."

"Okay! You're soooo nice." It was hard to tell if she was trying to hug him or if she was just hanging on for balance, but her heavy body rubbing against his was irresistably soft.

"I really wanna help you."

Inside her apartment, David set down the booze on the counter, wrapped his arms around Katrina's body and walked across the room with her. The floor was covered in junk, food wrappers and empty chip bags and bottles, old clothes and discarded lipstick tubes, and that didn't help her stability much.

David let her struggle long enough that his arms had to get tighter and tighter around her just to keep her upright. Then he let her trip, still with him holding on to her from behind.

They sank in a pile to the floor together, Katrina ending up on David's lap. He patted her shoulder.

"I'm sooo drunk. I need a drink so bad, though."

"I know, sweetie, I'm going to help. Maybe we can come up with a different sobriety test."

At David's prompting, Katrina struggled to strap on her high heels, smeared lipstick across her face, failed to count backwards from 10, fell down when trying to touch her toes, collapsed in a giggling heap when trying to coordinate her limbs into a crab walk, and got stuck partway under the bed when trying to retrieve her shoe. And she cheerfully gave permission for David to film it all in the name of proving she was sober.

Finally she was sitting in his arms again, after he rescued her from under the bed and she complained she was dizzy.

"I want to give you a drink so bad, but you're so drunk you can't pass any of the sobriety tests even with help. I'm going to try to think of something else."

"Okay. You're so smart. And so nice."

David sat there and cuddled her until she started to whine about needing a drink. She obligingly fell silent again when he shushed her and said he was thinking.

The second time, he told her what his idea was.

"There are two things that can make you sober up faster. One is eating a lot of greasy junk food. That absorbs some of the alcohol. The other is taking a shower, because it wakes you up."

Katrina was absolutely thrilled at the prospect of stuffing her face with burgers and fries and doughnuts. She cuddled with David and giggled and moaned while he ordered on his phone and read the descriptions of the food aloud to her.

He didn't tell her he was ordering Twinkies and Ding-Dongs too, but she didn't seem to notice the omission and ate them just as eagerly when they arrived.

David kept making her eat and eat and eat, telling her it would sober her up faster and then she could have more booze. She ate until her stomach hurt, but he told her that once she could drink, it would stop hurting because she'd be so numb.

"Can I have a drink now?"

"Well, you've gotta pass the sobriety test first, remember?"

Practically in a food coma, Katrina couldn't even get her fat, lazy, drunken body up off the floor.

So David prompted her to crawl across the floor and into the shower. Fortunately, her apartment was just a studio, with a tiny kitchenette, so they didn't have far to go. He also convinced her that she should take the shower with her clothes on, so he could film her to prove she was sober. But also not ruin her regular clothes, so he coaxed her out of her shirt and into a piece of babydoll lingerie that was almost see-through.

Katrina went along with all of it, not even noticing the inconsistencies in his story. She was just really enthusiastically grateful for all the help.

Finally, soaking wet, stuffed full, and drunk as fuck, Katrina failed the sobriety tests again. She was almost ready to cry, but David hugged her reassuringly. "I've got an idea, sweetie. I can't sell you the alcohol you ordered, but I'm off work, and I can take you on a date where we can get as much booze as we want. What do you say to sitting in a convenience store parking lot and eating Twinkies and drinking alcohol until you pass out?"

**************

A year later, David and Katrina celebrated their anniversary by cuddling and watching videos on his phone. Katrina giggled at the sight of herself falling onto her face on the bed, then floundering like a beached whale. She was fatter now, but not so much that she would have attracted attention on the street if she'd been dressed properly and sober. What she was, was so drunk she would have attracted attention anywhere. As usual, David was holding her up so she didn't fall off the couch.

"You know what the first thing I really liked about you was?"

"Mmmm?" she mumbled, sucking at the wine bottle. David steadied her hand.

"That you were so dumb you didn't even know you should pretend to be sober when ordering alcohol. You just kept announcing how drunk you were. There was no way I could sell you alcohol, and also no way I could leave you alone. You needed someone to be smarter than you and take care of you."

"Yeeaahh," she sighed happily and not too articulately.

"Remember to drink some vodka with that, honey, it gets you drunker faster. It's amazing how dumb you are when you drink. I've never seen anything like it. I would marry you, but they don't let you apply for the license drunk or go through the ceremony drunk, so you'd have to sober up."

"Yeah," Katrina giggled, in between swigs of vodka. "I don't wanna be sober."

"And I'd rather have a drunk girlfriend than a sober wife." David squeezed her soft, unresisting body. "Don't forget to finish the pizza and breadsticks. Alcohol always makes you too stupid to remember when you last ate. You don't want to pass out because you forgot to eat."

Katrina couldn't answer, because she was stuffing her fat face.

"You've got brownies waiting when you're done with that, too, don't forget. My sweet, fat, lovable, forgetful girlfriend. Oh, and that's another reason I can't marry you. You're too fat to fit in any of your clothes any more, that's why you have to wear lingerie all the time. And even if I took you to get a wedding dress custom-tailored, you have to stand up while they take your measurements, and you're always too drunk to stand up straight."

"Yeah, I'm too drunk to get married."

"And fat," he reminded her.

"Yeah, I'm too fat," Katrina agreed, between bites. Then she giggled again, watching herself lying on her back in the shower, legs hanging out.

"You're so sweet and dumb and gullible. The first thing I loved about you was how dumb you were, and the thing I love most now is that you believe literally anything I tell you. I adore having an alcoholic girlfriend."

"Mmmm." Then, "Am I an alcoholic?"

"Yes, of course you are, sweetheart. And the alcohol makes you so stupid you don't even know what's going on most of the time. That's why we never go anywhere. I have to keep you home and take care of you and explain things to you, so you don't have to sober up. Have some more brownies, doll. Those are the ones that came with the pizza. Those ones will make you stupider."

Katrina obediently started eating from both piles of brownies.

"They go well with alcohol."

"Like me," she giggled. "I go well with alcohol."

[sturnzyolo]

I love you, I'm sorry.

Matt Sturniolo x Fem reader

Summary: "Guys & Girls can never just be friends" I used to think that was a lie, until I met you.

WARNINGS: love confession, bestfriends, fluff, kissing, lying, crying?, etc.

Matt & I have been bestfriends since middle school. It all started when I asked to borrow a calculator. Once I handed it back, he asked for help on the work, & as I tutored Matt, we connected more & more. He turned into my closest friend, the one person I could tell everything to, the only person I wanted by my side throughout it all.

Everything was the same for years, every morning Matt would pick me up and take me to school with his brothers, everday he would walk me to each class, he would eat lunch with me, and he would drive me back to his house to hangout before walking me back home.

Everyday was the same yet so different. I was close with Matt's whole family, but nobody could beat my bond with Matt. He was all I needed in life.

I always assumed life would continue this way until we all inevitably had to split, but I didn't see that happening anytime soon. They were like my family. Most people would think a girl can't be friends with guys without there being some kind of feelings or connection between them. I always denied that, I never pictured Matt in that way. He was my bestfriend, nothing more.

January 8th, 2024

I've noticed Matt start to hangout with me less and less, I had assumed he was just busy, especially with how his new YouTube career has been starting for the triplets. I was proud that they were going after their dreams, but I was a bit sad that I saw him less than usual.

I thought about this as I was getting ready for school, I wondered if it could be more than him just being busy.

My clouded mind soon cleared at the sound of my phone's notification, I quickly put down my makeup brush and picked up my phone to read the message.

(yes I got a whole app to do fake messages AND WHAT ABT IT.)

I was in slight shock to read the message, Matt always took me to school no matter what. The only times he didn't was for therapy but he hasn't gone before school in awhile.

I tried to not show him how much I cared about the change he's been showing. He was never so distant from me. Did I do something wrong? Was something going on with him? I let my mind run on the possibilities for what I had done for him to be treating me so much differently from before.

I got to school by walking since I was still saving up for my own car. I waited for Matt at the front doors, since we always walked from class to class together. He never showed, he must've went in through the back or gotten here before me. I went to each class alone or with any of my girl friends, although Nick took me to Spanish class. I was too scared to ask him about his brother's new behavior.

January 26th, 2024

Matt's act kept up for more than 2 weeks, I saw him and spoke to him less and less everyday. I didn't want to lose him like this, I didn't want to have to forget about him in a way that felt like I was forced to. I was honestly fed up with it, so I decided that I needed to text him, right now.

(you barely even look in my direction*) sorry guys I didn't see the error before

I rolled my eyes and slammed my phone screen down with a frustrated huff. It felt pointless even attempting to have a real conversation with Matt, and it was exhausting.

I watched the pouring rain outside my window. My thoughts wandered for atleast a half hour about Matt, I couldn't understand what went wrong, and I wanted to know so badly. All I wanted was my bestfriend again and he couldn't even have one genuine conversation with me.

My conflictions were abruptly cut short when a loud knock on my door came, at first I didn't want to even get up. It was probably some stupid sales person. Another knock came, I flipped over and looked at my phone 12:47 am who the fuck would be at my door this late!?

my question was quickly answered with a yell after another knock "Y/n please open up, it's Matt, come on its pouring" his voice made me quickly get up in disbelief as I ran downstairs.

I unlocked and slowly opened the door to see Matt in a disheveled state, his eyes were a light pink while his eyebags were swollen, his nose was red, his hair was wet and his clothes were drenched.

"Hey, look can I just come in, please?" Matt asked softly with a slight break of his voice, circling around the reason he was here

"You were just being a complete asshole, no, why are you even here, go home" I was upset and clearly didn't want to talk to him at all but seeing him like this hurt.

"Please y/n/n, I walked all the way here just to talk to you, just let me in." He pleaded with a sniffle from his nose

"Oh, so I have to let you in, when you don't even let me? You've been acting like a completely new person, you shouldn't be here, I mean you did say your life is more than just me." I said in an argumentative tone as I held my ground with a cold gaze over to him

"No, no, please y/n I didn't mean that, you know I didn't. I know I've been an asshole but.. I can't keep lying to myself, and lying to you. I couldn't see you and talk to you because it was destroying me y/n/n." Matt muttered with stumbles over his words, he anxiously fiddled with his fingernails.

"Why, what did I do? What have you been lying about, because it's been killing me, you've been a dick to me and have been treating me like I'm nothing, so what the fuck did I do to deserve that!?" I said angrily with my tone growing louder

"Nothing! Nothing y/n, you're perfect to me. you make me utterly speechless sometimes but it kills me that I can't have you. I know you've never seen me as more as just your bestfriend, but I love you, y/n. I'm in love with you, I know it sounds fucking crazy, but I can't stop thinking about you, I was lying saying my life is more than just you, because you're all I need in my life other than my family, and I can't even breathe when I'm not around you, it feels like I'm fucking suffocating. You're my bestfriend, but I can't help to want more. I love you, I'm sorry if that's so wrong, but no matter what you say I will continue to love you, because there isn't a bone in my body that isn't dying for you to love me back." Matt spoke in one whole breath, almost yelling as he confessed. His chest rose and fell heavily waiting for my answer

MATT POV

I looked at y/n as my eyes filled with tears, her face was in disbelief as her eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted. 'God she's beautiful' I thought as my eyes traveled her face while I breathed heavily. I needed her to say something, anything. I felt like an idiot in this silence, I could ruin everything because of this, I had loved her since the first moment I laid eyes on her but I knew I could never have her in the way I wanted, so I settled for what I had. I just couldn't take lying to her anymore, so I pushed her away, but I needed to tell her, I needed to give her a real reason, even if it ended horribly.

Her lips clasped together again as she seemed to finally had formed a sentence for me, while she straightened her eyebrows slightly. Her soft gazed eyes looked into mine as my breath hitched quietly, then they went down to my lips, causing my face to falter even more.

Her actions were quick as she stepped out of her front door, joining me in the rain before wrapping her fingers into the back of my wet hair. She pulled my head down softly before she kissed me. Her lips were so soft and her touch could make me melt, I didn't even hesitate for a second to kiss her back. I wanted this moment to last forever, my hands gently snaked to hold either side of her waist.

I groaned as she slowly parted from the kiss

Y/N POV

I barely even processed his words as my body took control, I eventually found myself in a deep passionate kiss with my bestfriend. It felt amazing, his lips had a faint taste of pineapple, his lips and hair were both so soft. His hands around my waist felt so right. I parted from the kiss slowly before looking up into his eyes, his gaze still pleading with me for more even after his needy groan.

"Matt, I love you too. I always will, in whatever way you need it to be, I'm yours." I soundlessly admitted before his hand moved up to carefully grab my cheek as he pulled me in to kiss him again, the rain poured onto us as he swept me off my feet.

The kiss didn't break for even a split second as my legs wrapped around his waist tightly. He walked me into my house, neither of us cared about the puddling leading into my home as he closed the front door behind us. He carried me upstairs to my bedroom that we've been in together hundreds of times, yet this one was so much different. The kiss broke for a minute to catch our breath as he closed and locked my bedroom door, he sat back on my bed while I sat on his lap.

He moved a piece of my hair out of my face that had fallen due to the small impact from my bed. "Y/n I've wanted this for so long, and I promise I will do everything to never mess this up because all I want to do is to love and cherish you the way you deserve. Please y/n, can you please be my girlfriend" He practically begged me, even with his puppy eyes staring into mine

"I would love nothing more Matt, I'd be more than lucky just to be your girlfriend." I answered as I held his face in my palms delicately as if he were fragile. his smile grew before he licked his lips smoothly and kissed me once more.

I never knew I loved my bestfriend, not like this, but now the only thing I could feel, was my love for him, and I didn't want this feeling to end, not now, not ever. I was yours, Matthew Sturniolo, forever and always.

I wrote this in 1 day guys oml, anyways this will be similar to the future Chris childhood bestfriends to lovers but that one will have sm more detail and angst to it, I promise. I want to esp take my time with that one to make it more meaningful but I hope you guys enjoy this one. Part 3 of Shadows will be coming out sometime today aswell, I just need to finish it. Sorry the end to this was kinda corny but I'm trying to get better with my dialogue 😔

[p0ssywhippedcream]

Hey girllll what’s up?? Hope you’re getting rest from your flight- that type of tired is A WHOLE OTHER TYPE OF TIRED LOL- I was wondering if you could do Apollo x Demigod reader where the reader kinda dies and he goes up to Olympus demanding and threatening Zeus to make her a Goddess? (if you have to use godly parent could you do Hades?)

TYSMMMM<3333 HOPE YOU GETS LOTS OF REST AND REMEMBER TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF!!!

FRRRRR I"M SO EEPY GIRL and istg if there are any spelling errors its cause I wrote this right as I got it n I'm too tired to notice!!

You miss your boyfriend. You've only been dead a day and you're sooooooo bored. Wandering around your father's palace can only be so entertaining when you've passed the same skull mantle three times. Apollo is a lot of things but he's never been a bore and you wish he was here, lighting up the gloomy atmosphere and kissing you dizzy.

You try not to think about how this was inevitable. You'd die and he'd move on because he was a god and that's what gods do, they keep living. You don't want to know that he's probably already moved on to wooing another so you stay in the palace, ignoring the gossipy dead and whatever news they bring because you can't bear to hear he has a new lover on his hip already.

You're sitting in the garden, picking at a pomegranate and turning your nail beds a deep red as they fill with juice when a familiar glow is skipping towards you. Apollo is tugging you to your feet and peppering you with his lips before you can even ask. Your father having followed not far behind is watching him with an observant glare.

When Apollo finally gives you a chance to breathe, you're cupping his face so he doesn't lean in for more as you ask, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to get you, silly! I'm not leaving my girlfriend in the underworld, what kind of boyfriend would that make me?"

"One that respects the rightful line between life and death." Your father chimes in but Apollo brushes his words away with an eye roll, his glittery teeth making it playful.

"Wait, wait," You put a hand up, effectively shutting them both up, "What do you mean 'come get me'?"

"You're coming to Olympus with me, Sunshine," Your jaw drops and his pointer is pushing it back up gently as he continues, "I talked to Zeus and he agreed!"

"Zeus wouldn't just.. agree." You shake your head baffled, glancing at your father when he says, "No, he wouldn't."

You turn back to your glowing lover, allowing your hands to run over his warm shoulders. "How do you persuade him?"

Apollo thinks back to when he'd approached his father's throne, casually bringing up the Black Plague and watching Zeus's face morph from confusion to anger to brief fear to understanding as he propositioned a new god with a little more threat than necessary.

"I'm his favorite son," He offers you instead, ignoring the narrowing of your expression.

"Sure you are.." You pat his beefy muscles before slipping out of his arms and wandering towards your silent dad. "What do you think of this?"

"You're happy with Apollo?" He confirms and when you nod, he says, "Then go be happy."

"Will I be able to visit you?" Hades reaches for your face, rubbing a thumb along your cheekbone with a faint smile.

"You're always welcome here, my child." You feel a light mist over your eyes as you envelop him in a hug, his chilly mouth leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

When you pull away, Apollo is by your side, taking your hand and allowing you one last squeeze to your fathers arm before he's leading you out of the Underworld. Your ghostly glare fades to a bright shine, leaving you sprinkled in sparkles and a well-fitted toga as he marches you to the heavens. Your father presses his fingers to his lips, blowing a shaky kiss towards the glow of your ascending forms, resigning himself to being alone again as he picks up the pomegranate you'd been toying with and slides back into the darkness of his reign.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Fateful Love in Motion

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

➙ Prologue

I once heard from a maid who kept a small bird that to prevent its wings from becoming useless, you need to let it out of the cage occasionally and allow it to flutter around.

I wonder when this birdcage of mine will open.

Kicho: "Do you have any regrets?"

Mai: "No."

Kicho: ".........."

(That's a lie.)

A heavy silence filled the room, and I averted my gaze from Kicho out of awkwardness.

Staying here in Ooku meant I would inevitably choose someone.

And tonight was that night.

Kicho: "Why did you choose me? Though I'm one of the attendants, we haven't talked that much."

Mai: "That's true."

(I ended up choosing him on impulse because of his strong presence.)

Seeing me at a loss for words, he sighed and quietly stood up, picking up a book from a writing desk in the corner of the room.

Mai: "Um?"

Kicho: "I have no interest in forcing anyone."

Kicho: "But if you leave the bedroom now, it will only cause unwanted rumors."

Kicho: "It would be best to spend the night quietly."

Mai: "I see."

Kicho: "Hmm. You're reading something quite challenging."

Mai: "Yes. I hope it will be useful for the future, even just a little."

Kicho: "What do you mean by that?"

His gaze pierced straight through me.

(There it is again.)

His eyes, filled with an unwavering determination, effortlessly compelled me to speak.

Mai: "Take this as a joke, but one day, I hope to break free from my dad's control and live my own life. Not here, but somewhere else."

Kicho: "I see."

He didn't say anything more after that.

One month later.

Kicho: "That's right. You should interpret it that way."

Mai: "I see. I guess I was overthinking it."

Night after night, Kicho visited me and taught me various things.

What I thought was a distressing time quickly became irreplaceable, and I began to look forward to this nightly visit.

Kicho: "Mai, is something wrong?"

Mai: "Huh?"

Kicho: "You seem different tonight. Your expression seems tense."

Mai: "You can tell?"

Mai: "Actually, my father wants me to call someone else to my bedroom tomorrow."

Kicho: ".........."

Kicho: "I see."

His response was quiet.

He probably knew that this was that kind of place.

(But...)

Kicho: "----!"

I unconsciously found myself gripping his sleeve.

(I no longer have the courage to impulsively 'choose someone' as I did that day.)

(I...)

Kicho: "Mai."

Before I could put my feelings into words, his warm hand gently overlapped mine.

When I looked up, his eyes, filled with an unwavering determination, trembled with sadness.

Kicho: "Is it okay?"

Mai: "Huh?"

Kicho: "I'm asking if it's okay for me to take you away."

Kicho: "To a place where you can be yourself. Mai, will you live with me?"

Mai: "Kicho."

Mai: "Why are you saying such wonderful things?"

Kicho: "The night you called me to your bedroom, I saw you longing to go outside, and I felt it would be wrong to cut those beautiful wings of yours."

Kicho: "As we spent time together, these feelings transformed."

Kicho: "Don't you feel the same?"

Mai: "……"

The warmth and scent I had long grown accustomed to slowly drew nearer.

We leaned in closer than ever before, and our bodies overlapped.

It was then, for the first time, that I noticed the sweetness and heat of his lips.

A tingling sensation then spread through the depths of my mind.

Mai: "Ah…"

Kicho: "Mai."

Instead of nodding, I firmly entwined my fingers with his.

Somewhere in the distance, I faintly heard a high-pitched sound, like the opening of a birdcage.

➙ Collection Events Masterlist

[cy-fi-theansweris42]

Me: I'm going to spend time developing some ideas I have for the Empurata Prowl AU! Keferon: [posts an angsty comic] Me, already feeling the comic bounce around my brain before hitting the Angsty Writing Corner: Aw heck--

Once again one of @keferon's posts have me writing, this time it was this post (more Prowl POV angst, I should have known, lol)

Angst below the cut!

Jazz left.

This is a thought that appears more often than Prowl would have initially anticipated as the cycles pass. Logically, he knew from the beginning that Jazz would eventually leave, of course he would. Jazz is an excellent special operations agent, one with skills that make him almost invaluable (false, there are calculations he can make to assign a value-- why doesn't he?) to the Autobot cause. To allow his skills to go to waste caring for Prowl would be inefficient, illogical.

No, Jazz is needed elsewhere, he belongs somewhere other than at Prowl's side. It was inevitable that eventually Jazz would be called away, and that eventually he would willingly go.

Jazz left.

Why does he keep thinking that?

This line of thinking has no value, no purpose. He knows that Jazz left, it is a fact.

He changes topics, the continual thought of Jazz left becoming a background process once again.

The mission Jazz left for is dangerous.

The success rate of the mission was too low, the potential benefits in no way outweighing the risks. Tactically, the mission was not worth the resources, the risk, (Jazz's life if it went wrong). Every possibility had been considered, he had run the numbers, the scenarios, everything himself. He had told Jazz it wasn't worth the risk.

And yet Jazz had left because he had been called.

(Because of him.)

(Because he did something to push Jazz away.)

(Because he--)

These lines of thinking were not worth the mental resources. Prowl moved them to the background as well.

He did not agree with the new tactician.

Prowl had seen some of his numbers, some of his suggestions. There were minor errors in his math, in his logic. They were small, almost unnoticeable. However in a war, the smallest error can lead to immense losses.

The new tactician was going to get Jazz killed.

(He was going to get Jazz killed because he pushed him away--)

(What did he do wrong--)

He needed to stop thinking about Jazz.

He didn't want to stop thinking about Jazz.

The previous statement is false, errors appearing in his vision at the incorrect logic. He didn't want. Not anymore.

He didn't want and he didn't feel and he wasn't the same anymore.

He ignored the collecting errors, they weren't important.

(Is that why Jazz left?)

(Is that what he did wrong--)

He didn't want Jazz to die.

He didn't want. He didn't feel he didn't want Jazz to die Jazz was doing to die Jazz was going to die because he did something wrong what did he do wrong hewasthewrongthingwhatwaswrongwithhim--)

ERROR: Too many background processes running, shutdown imminent.

As darkness filled his vision, it was only then that Prowl noticed the other bots surrounding him, distantly hearing someone call for Ratchet.

Then, nothing.

When Prowl awoke, there was only one thought running through his processor.

He needed to find Jazz.

[misc-obeyme]

Hi, love your work! Could I please request a headcanon with SatanxMC, author’s choice?

Hi there, anon! Thank you so much, I'm so glad you enjoy my writing!

Okay, so uh, since it was author's choice, I thought I'd do a little hurt/comfort. And oh man, I was in a mood 'cause MC is really going through it in this one. But the thing is, I really feel like Satan in particular would be like this. He's actually really good at balancing himself in a way none of his brothers are at all. (When he's not enraged that is.) And I think that gives him a different perspective on an MC who was deliberately suppressing their feelings. Anyway, hopefully it turned out okay!

Thanks for participating!

COZY COMFORTS EVENT

It's another long day. And something inside you mumbles quietly of sadness - a constant hum that you had tuned out long ago. You have no reason to feel anything but a sense of progress and contentment along with the inevitable knowledge that there was always more to be done. You don't have time to focus on anything else.

Satan learns your patterns the first time he sees them in action. Perhaps it's the way you isolate yourself or maybe it's the strained sound of your voice. He notices when all you ever do is give your energy, passion, and love away. He watches it deplete you.

It takes some trial and error, but Satan figures out when it's all too much. He had to learn fast when he found himself unceremoniously ripped into existence, fully formed and full of rage. He knows how to adapt quickly. He knows how emotions that feel like they don't belong to you can be so overwhelming that there isn’t space for anything else.

Satan knows that you would never say it out loud, not to anyone. He sees that low melancholy in your eyes no matter how hard you try to hide it behind your smile. You don't want anyone to know, but you desperately want someone to see it, too. And he does. He always does.

He might start out with shooing his brothers away from you. Giving them glaring looks if they become too demanding. He can’t act as though he isn't also guilty of wanting your attention, your love, your friendship. He knows you like it that way because it helps you avoid the truth of your heart. It's easy to push yourself aside when others need you. He watches you bury yourself in the wants and desires of him and his brothers. Like your own don’t matter. Like your comfort is secondary to theirs.

Satan is going to ask you about it directly. It hurts. It hurts you both to talk about it and by the end you’ve both succumbed to tears. He knows you can’t hold it in forever. He knows you can’t pretend you’re okay for the rest of your life. It doesn’t work like that and he won’t watch you crash and burn. He’s been there too many times himself. That’s why he forces himself to ask you. He calls you out when you lie or somehow downplay your feelings. Don’t hold out on him, MC. Please.

Satan’s heart breaks as he watches your eyes fill with tears the minute he asks you why you’ve been sad lately. He knows this is what he needs to do for you, but he hates watching you in pain. You reluctantly start to talk to him and every word seems to be cutting you open. Every word becomes an arrow through his heart. And he realizes he’s able to stand it, able to hold this hurt, because he can also see it healing you.

Didn’t you heal him, too? Didn’t you calm his wrath in a way no one else ever could? Isn’t it the least he could do to make room for your sadness? Isn’t it the least he could do to hold it for you, just for a little while? He would take it all if he could. He would protect you from every feeling that wasn’t happiness or joy or love.

He can’t, so instead he holds you. He hates the way you shudder in his arms, like your body can’t contain the heaviness of your own heart. But he keeps you close to him, buries his hand in your hair, kisses your cheeks softly, his lips wet with your tears. He runs his fingertips down your back, he tightens his arms around your torso. He lets you stay that way as long as you want. He’ll hold you against his chest all night if you cry yourself to sleep there.

When morning comes, Satan is floored by the bright relief he sees in your eyes. For so long, you kept quiet and he watched you fade. All it took was someone to ask you, someone to listen, someone to be there to witness you pour everything out of your soul and into the night. Now you’re radiant again and beside that a gratefulness, a tenderness, a bond between you of a shared secret hurt that no one else has ever seen. You have carried him in his anger and he will always hold you through your pain.

cozy comforts | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[rockanroller]

"Was Hazbin Hotel Rigged or Hand-Drawn?"

disclaimer: do not, and i repeat, DO NOT, use this post to shit on the animators who worked their asses off on this series.

hand-drawn animation is going to have variation in it and that's part of its charm for a lot of people. it really only goes "badly" when that variation becomes too noticeable (such as being jarringly off-model) or when a character's movement isn't executed well. but if you didn't catch it w/o going through frame-by-frame, it hardly matters.

so, getting into it, ppl have been going back-and-forth on this, and viv herself has said it wasn't rigged.

and i think this is one thing she's right about.

many ppl's assumption of it being rigged was due to a lot of movements being weirdly "stiff" or "clunky" and/or characters moving oddly smooth at other times.

i can say i think it's possible rigs could've been used occasionally, or on some shots, but i also think it's more likely the animators moved their drawings in a way that makes them look rig-like as a result.

meaning in animation programs you can actually grab portions of your drawing like a head or a limb and move it, or even just nudge it ever so slightly, to the point you can make some really smooth in-betweens to the point it looks rigged.

that said, a rig keeps a character uniform and consistent.

for example:

with the exception of bits where the character has to move or be interacted with in a way the rig won't allow, which would either need new additions to the rig or to be hand-drawn over the rig.

but see how Rick's head/face/hair and proportions stay the same?

let's compare that to Charlie's head:

we can see Charlie's features vary slightly, and these aren't shots from different episodes, these are shots that are right next to each other. if you're having trouble seeing a difference here's a breakdown:

again: this is *not* me saying this is a bad thing. this type of variation is inevitable with hand-drawn animation, and to many people it's part of hand-drawn animation's charm. and if you didn't notice it and it didn't bother you while watching, it hardly matters.

everything i'm pointing out here is only to show why i think Hazbin Hotel was hand-drawn (at least by majority or a large percentage) rather than rigged.

other points to this include shifting linework such as here:

you can see the lines get thicker/thinner between these frames such as on the inner portions of her eyes, the curl of hair under her right (our left) eye, or how a section of linework on her hair & face suddenly shows up between both of her outer eye-lashes.

which, again, shifting line-weights aren't uncommon in hand-drawn animation, and can be part of its charm. but in a rig you wouldn't see the linework shifting like this, it would remain uniform.

i also noticed portions where linework ever-so-slightly crosses over itself for either a few frames or multiple, which wouldn't be seen with a rig (unless it was rigged poorly or smth.)

when you go through the episodes frame-by-frame these minor variations become more apparent.

reiterating again, however: none of this is "bad" unless it's noticeable w/o going through frame-by-frame.

animation is not intended to be watched frame-by-frame or hyper-analyzed up-close and personal.

animation is *supposed* to trick the eye and create the illusion of movement, so if it wasn't an error that was noticeable it doesn't matter.

an example of a noticeable "bad" error would be something like when Vaggie completely disappears mid-shot, along with the camera & BG snapping and Charlie's compositing disappearing with her pose shifting slightly (watch the legs) all at the same time.

(this is not two random frames taken out of context, these frames are directly next to each other.)

do not, and i repeat, DO NOT, use this post to shit on the animators who worked their asses off on this series.

all this was just to share an analysis of why i think that at least a large percentage of Hazbin Hotel was hand-drawn.

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

All through season 3, I was looking for reasons to let go of Tech, but hope just wouldn't die and until the finale I still thought there was a chance Tech would turn out to be alive and well. Even with this hope I found it... odd... that the show skipped over the inevitable conversation between Omega and Crosshair with Crosshair learning what happened to Tech. So I wrote this just a few days after the season 3 premiere and posted it to AO3 since I didn't have tumblr at the time. I'm posting it here now, mostly because the past few days this blog has turned into one of my ways of fully processing Tech's death.

NOTE: the first two sections are scenes directly from the show. I included them to clarify the timeline of events and add some detail as to what I imagine was informing Crosshair's thoughts and remarks during the second scene in particular.

Revelation

“Crosshair!”

No. It couldn’t be.

“Crosshair?”

He must still be dreaming, stuck in the nightmare…

“Crosshair?”

The voice sounded just like Omega, but that would mean Omega was here. And if Omega were here, that would mean his brothers…

“You must be Omega.” He knew that voice, and Emerie Karr’s statement removed all doubt.

“What did you do to Crosshair?” he heard Omega reply.

“He’s recovering. I tried to warn him what would happen if he did not cooperate with the doctor….”

He kept his eyes closed, feigning continued unconsciousness, wishing he had never awoken.

**********

“Crosshair. I tried to come earlier, but there were too many guards watching me.”

Crosshair sighed. He had noticed Omega’s attempts to catch his attention when they passed each other in the halls, and had deliberately ignored her. He couldn’t very well do so now. “You shouldn’t be down here at all.”

“Well, how else are we gonna plan an escape?”

Where did the kid get her unfailing optimism? But hope was useless here – worse than useless. Best to disabuse her of any fanciful notions before she was crushed any further by the weight of disappointment. “There is no ‘we,’” he replied curtly as he sat up to face her, “and there is no escape. I’ve already tried.”

He wouldn’t tell her the details of what had happened: that the primary objective of his “escape attempt” had been to warn his brothers about the danger they and Omega were in. Omega hadn’t yet told him whether the message had been received, and Crosshair had no inclination to broach the subject. Believing he had failed in getting the message to his brothers was easier to stomach than knowing the message had been delivered yet still yielded this outcome.

Thankfully, Omega didn’t probe for details – she was still too focused on the prospect of freedom. “Every stronghold has a weak point,” she was saying now, before adding thoughtfully, “Maybe I can convince Emerie to help. She’s one of us.”

No. This had to be nipped in the bud. If Crosshair managed to teach the kid anything, it had to be this, the one crucial lesson that was even more important than learning that hope was pointless. “Not every clone is your ally,” he warned her firmly. “You trust too easily.”

Omega looked taken aback for only a second before resisting the lesson. “Maybe you don’t trust enough,” she retorted.

Crosshair wished he could think of precisely what to say to convince her of her errors in judgment, but his hand started shaking… Blast, he thought as he gripped his hands together, hoping Omega hadn’t noticed.

“Crosshair?” she said gently; and he knew she had noticed. Yet more proof that hope was useless.

He wouldn’t let her see any more. He didn’t need any more reminders of his shortcomings, his failures, his mistakes, his losses. If he couldn’t teach the kid just how futile it was to hope and trust, maybe he could at least convince her to stop doing things that would put her in more danger. “Just… go, before you make things worse for both of us.”

Omega hesitated only briefly before turning to leave, and Crosshair thought that maybe he had succeeded – but then she spoke once more. “There has to be a way out of here,” she said, determination adding a layer of steel to her tone. “I’ll find it.”

**********

“You’re awake,” she said cheerfully as she sat cross-legged on the floor.

Crosshair didn’t reply, only fixed her with a sullen stare that did nothing to dampen her spirits.

“No one said anything after I came here last time, so I think I might be able to keep visiting you,” Omega went on. “Of course, we’ll have to be discreet when discussing some topics…”

He couldn’t ignore her when he was stuck in a cell, and she was going to keep visiting… “Why are you here?”  he cut in sharply.

Omega paused mid-sentence, the slight crease that appeared on her forehead attesting to her confusion even as she gamely shifted topics. “I… well, I don’t have an escape plan yet, but I thought I could…”

“No,” he brusquely interrupted her again, waving his arm to gesture toward the hallway in an attempt to make his meaning clear. “Why are you here, on Tantiss?”

“The Empire captured me,” she answered in a low voice. “I think they want me to make Nala Se cooperate with them.”

Crosshair growled in frustration at the kid again missing the meaning of his query – he had to know, but that wouldn’t make the knowledge any easier to bear. He tried one more time, “What happened?”

Omega went perfectly still, and Crosshair’s heart sank. This is precisely why he had avoided asking about his brothers’ fates; but not knowing meant he could only imagine the worst possibilities. He didn’t let a shred of emotion show on his face, however, as his sister finally moved to reposition herself so she was no longer directly facing him, instead sitting in profile, gazing down the hallway as she wrapped her arms around her knees.

“We… Tech was going through some intel for Echo when he found out you were captured, and then he found the message you sent to warn us. We were trying to track Hemlock’s ship so we could find you. We knew Hemlock would be meeting with Tarkin on Eriadu, so we infiltrated the base to place a tracker on his ship. But…” she faltered, then everything spilled out in a flood of words. “Everything went wrong. We tried to escape, but there was an explosion at the base that left us trapped in a rail car with Imperial troops and ships attacking us. Tech was on the rail line to fix the car and he tried to make it back, but the car was breaking in half and falling off the track, and then the added weight…” Her voice broke, and she took a shuddering breath before soldiering on, “Tech fell, he severed the connection to the broken half of the car and he wouldn’t let us save him…”

The words were like shrapnel ripping through his heart. Hemlock seemed to think the interrogation droids were one of the most effective means of inflicting pain; the experiments were mentally and physically relentless, excruciating, exhausting; but this… This was true torture.

Omega had paused in an effort to regain her composure, wrapping her arms ever more tightly around her knees in an effort to stop shaking. Determinedly looking at the floor, she continued her story, her voice cutting through the void of Crosshair’s bereavement and bringing him back to the current situation with a painful jolt. The way she was rushing and stammering through her story, Crosshair could tell this was the first time she was really thinking about it, the first time she was allowing herself to relive the tragedy, reopening the painful wounds of this memory just so she could satiate his need to know.

He didn’t want to know any more – the worst thing he’d imagined had happened to one of his brothers. But he couldn’t manage to speak, couldn’t beg Omega to stop talking…

“Tech’s repairs worked, the car started moving, but we crashed and… I don’t remember much after that… I woke up and Hunter and Wrecker and I had all been bandaged up by AZI. Then Hemlock found us. Hunter told me to run, but I couldn’t leave them.” Omega’s chin was shaking so hard Crosshair wasn’t sure how she was managing to still speak so clearly. “Hemlock captured Wrecker and Hunter, and I tried to stop him, but one of his guards stunned me and I woke up on Hemlock’s ship.” She paused again; Crosshair, outwardly still and silent as stone, inwardly reeling from pain and shock, only peripherally noticed her bring her hand to her cheek to wipe away tears. “I had sent AZI to get Echo, though, so maybe Hunter and Wrecker managed to escape.”

The flash of relief upon hearing that Hunter and Wrecker and Echo might still be alive disappeared almost before Crosshair felt it, suppressed under the massive weight of sudden loss.

Tech.

Crosshair had always pretended to be even more annoyed than the others when Tech spouted off three datapads’ worth of information on the most mundane topics, but secretly he had been fascinated by how smart his brother was, how Tech not only knew the information but could seamlessly apply it to improve almost any situation. Hunter was the one with heightened senses, but Tech sometimes seemed even more skilled than Hunter in knowing exactly what Crosshair needed without Crosshair needing to say a word – and, being the most reticent member of the group, Crosshair couldn’t say he ever minded.

That was the thing about Tech: when it came to any given topic – including his brothers – Tech didn’t just know, he understood.

Crosshair didn’t have Tech’s skill in this area, but he knew and understood his brother well enough to fill in the details himself. Omega had said Tech had been the one to discover Crosshair’s imprisonment and the message, which meant Tech would have been the one to bring the fact to the squad’s attention, comb through intel that led to the discovery of Hemlock’s existence, and join the push for a rescue mission to be mounted despite the warning the message conveyed.

Omega and Crosshair now sat in silence for what may have been hours, may have been seconds – he would never be able to tell – before Omega spoke again. Despite the tears still silently falling down her face, her voice took on its signature hopeful note. “Maybe we can…”

‘Maybe’ was dangerous territory, and Crosshair – sick to his stomach, burning with regret and shame, broken and empty with no recourse available to him – could not let Omega continue. Tech was dead, and Crosshair could not allow himself to entertain the idea that maybe his remaining brothers were actually okay. ‘Maybe’ meant hope. Hope meant more pain.

“No,” he said, so sharply that Omega finally turned to look at him. The sight of her tear-streaked yet resolute face only deepened his agony. “No more plans. Can’t you see? It’s over.”

“But if Hunter and Wrecker escaped, that would mean…”

“NO,” he said again, glaring at the kid.

He wasn’t going to say anything else; but suddenly a sentence from Omega’s story struck home - we were trying to track Hemlock’s ship so we could find you – and his thoughts, his deepest regret, took form in words and slipped through his mouth before he could stop himself. “I told you to run. I told you all to hide. Why didn’t you hide?”

Omega’s eyes softened, and her sympathy made him drop his gaze to the floor. “Because we’re a squad,” she replied softly, “we’re family, and we don’t leave anyone behind.”

“Look where that got you,” Crosshair retorted bitterly. Look where that got Tech, he thought.

Footsteps sounding in a distant hallway seemed to remind Omega that she did not have unlimited time to spend on visits, and she hurriedly wiped her face again as she got to her feet. She didn’t immediately depart, however; and Crosshair, feeling her gaze on him, refused to look up.

“You’re worth the risk, Crosshair,” she said simply. “Tech thought so too.”

He remained as he was, staring at the floor, numb and broken and alone, long after she had gone.

**********          

“Crosshair? Are you awake?”

He gave a prolonged sigh in an effort to cover the fact that a tiny part of him was actually glad she had come to visit – it had been several weeks since the last one, and he had started to wonder if she had been outright forbidden from seeing him. “What does it matter? You’re going to talk anyway.”

She hesitated briefly. “If you need to rest, I can come back later…”

He groaned a little as he sat up – this round of experiments was leaving him increasingly sore, but he would never admit this to anyone, least of all Omega: she would spend the entire visit fretting about him. “It’s fine. I’m already awake.”

She regarded him for several long seconds before kneeling in front of his cell. “Sorry it took so long for me to come back. Nala Se kept giving me additional assignments. I think that phase of experimentation is over now. They don’t tell me much about what the experiments are, though.” She was quiet for a moment, before continuing, “I like taking care of the hounds a lot more than helping in the lab. Batcher is finally warming up to me – she doesn’t try to bite me anymore when I feed her. Oh, K9X1 finally told me a little more about the hounds…”

Crosshair listened as Omega continued talking about all the details she had learned about the species – their origins, development, life cycle, characteristics, and more – and wondered why he felt such a bittersweet ache in his chest…

Omega’s chatter reminded him of Tech.

Identifying the cause made the ache grow more potent, and Crosshair almost snapped at Omega to leave so he could busy himself with forgetting the tragedy. Over the past few weeks, he had thought he had come to terms with the loss of his brother – the shame, regret, and emptiness no longer felt like they would completely consume him – but in moments like these the pain would return in full force, and it was almost too much to bear.

And yet – right now, the ache wasn’t just bitterness and sorrow. There was a hint of solace, a touch of comfort, the warmth of nostalgia and happy memories, that took the edge off the pain. And, somehow, this comfort came from Omega.

Despite what Omega had said, he knew he didn’t deserve the risk his squad had taken for him. Tech shouldn’t have died for him, Omega shouldn’t have been captured because of him, the others shouldn’t be facing dangers unknown because of him. Knowing this, he wouldn’t let anyone else take such a risk for him again.

But Omega was feeling the loss of Tech just as much as he was. She had lost her brother, just as he had.

Crosshair wouldn’t encourage her insane ideas of the both of them managing to escape together; but if these visits made her current captivity easier to bear, he wouldn’t send her away.

Resting his forehead on his hands, he sat and listened to his sister.

[pizzaronipasta]

Computer Cursive

Okay so, I've had an idea. Y'know how the reason why the world's writing systems look so different is often because they were developed for writing on different materials? Well, to my knowledge, there hasn't ever been a writing system developed from the ground up for handwriting on a computer using a mouse. Which is a shame, because other writing systems are so ill-suited to mouse handwriting.

The Latin alphabet was originally carved into stone. But then a cursive script came around so it could be written on paper more easily. Who's to say the same can't happen with mouse handwriting?

So I tried my hand at making my own "computer cursive." Since precision with a mouse is much harder than with a pen, chisel, or stylus, I tried removing as much fine detail from the letters as I could while keeping them distinct and recognizable. Specifically, producing strokes of precise shapes is especially hard, so I prioritized making the arrangement of strokes recognizable, no matter how the strokes themselves ended up looking. Also, since long continuous lines are less than conducive to digital error correction (ctrl+z would remove a whole word instead of just a single letter or less), and because the risk of making an error gets quite high after only a short while of continuous marking, the term "computer cursive" ended up being something of a misnomer. It was best to keep letters disconnected from each other, thus not fulfilling the definition of a cursive script. However, "computer cursive" makes for a convenient shorthand that's reflective of the thought process behind its creation, so I'm sticking with it.

Anyway, here's what I came up with:

So first of all, it looks cool as shit if I do say so myself, though that's probably just because of the calligraphy pen brush I used (and I recommend you do the same if you ever try using this). But in seriousness, I'm very happy with how easy it is to recognize most of the letters here, and the rest are easy to get used to.

Some usage notes:

the letter c should start going diagonally down and left, and gradually curve further downwards. it doesn't matter how far it ends up curving, as long as the curve is noticeable

the letter k needs its bottom-right stroke to be curved as seen in the image, or it'll look too much like an h

yes, the letter o is a triangle. deal with it

p and q are distinguished by the lengths of their rightmost strokes: p's is longer (roughly as tall as the other stroke) and q's is shorter

r and v are distinguished in the same way: r's is longer (taller than the other stroke by a noticeable margin) and v's is shorter (more symmetrical). also, r's stem should technically be vertical while v should technically be completely symmetrical, but that isn't a feasible distinction to reliably make in practice, so don't worry about it

the letter s should start going diagonally up and left, and gradually curve down and around to start going diagonally down and right. it doesn't matter how far it ends up curving, as long as it fits this description

the letter u should start going straight down, or down and slightly right, and gradually curve further right. it doesn't matter how far it ends up curving, as long as the curve is noticeable

In general, don't worry too much about it looking tidy—it's specifically meant to be serviceable despite inevitably looking sloppy from time to time.

[crazykuroneko]

Rewind the Tape – IWTV S102

I'm catching up with @iwtvfanevents now with Episode 2. Repeating my FYI from before: this is my first time rewatching the show (excluding indirect watch through YouTube reactions), and it's purpose for me to refresh my mind and noticing things. So, I won't dwell on certain theories, but I'll take notes about it for myself.

Feel free to reply if you want to discuss. *crack knuckles* Let's go!

• Marius' painting. A clue that Rashid is Armand. But now, IF Justin Kirk is really Marius, it's also a clue that Marius also lives in that apartment building 💡Does that mean there's a real possibility of "Akasha is the groan" theory to be true? Or "sleeping Lestat is the groan"? Because no way these good writers features the groan without meaning even though the groan is indeed a phenomenon that happens to tall buildings. Saving this for later.

• "Is it only work or you (are his fuckboy basically)?" Your prejudice (and lowkey envy, maybe) is showing, Daniel

• "I apologize for my outburst earlier" You're just crying Louis. It's okay. Fuck this discipline life you're doing 😭

• Idc I headcanon Armand bought Louis that top because it looks so great for Ied Fitr. Like, I already have the visual in my head.

• The music turns out to be a diagetic music as well is so witty and memorable. Love that

• The farm. Hmmm. Saving that for later

• "Two vampires walked into the church". The error in this statement is interesting. Does he feel like it's inevitable the moment he walked into that church?

• Blood of the deceased will suck you into death. Okay, noted.

• That priest is still alive???? What?

• The spark shot is beautiful. Iirc, Alan said that's kinda tricky to achieve.

• I don't know, I just love this shot:

• "Are you hungry, Louis?" "Huh-huh" PLEASE HE IS SO CUTE AND PALM-SIZED

• That paw of a hand directing Louis' head. Icu

• Lestat still could talk to Louis telepathically here. Because he hasn't had his first meal?

• "Just to be clear, we're here to talk about tractors" 🏳️‍🌈🤔❓I mean, what this poor soul is assuming to begin with 😭

• Lestat's instruction being an innuendo for oral sex is so 😭. I love these writers

• "You're going to find that difficult". That's "after-the-fact scene" number 2. Yeah, I will call it that. It means that scene doesn't necessarily happen as a fact in the past because it's impossible for Louis to know (he's being super focused on his family, no way he heard that). But it's formed based on an information Louis learnt after the fact, which over the years eventually attached to the memory of that day. Memory does evolve that way; no intervention or intent needed for that to happen. The after the fact information this time is that it's indeed hard, and Lestat must have warned him (see: post almost killing nephew scene), so over the years it evolved to "oh Lestat must find it ridiculous I tried to go back to my family that first day". I LOVE that the writers are doing this. It means they're treating memory in the show as real memory; it's not static, it evolves over the years, formed based on a lot of influences etc etc.

• Love the burning special effects. That's a great way to show it off.

• I can't believe they had their first time with Louis smelling like milk and burnt 😂😭

• Daniel is SO desperate to put some distance and not sympathize with Louis. Though he kinda fails by the end of the episode thanks to Alice

• The fact they gave Lestat's preaching lines from the book to Louis (the having hand in divine plan bits) really tells you that Louis is posturing here. Idk I feel like he's trying to gauge how far Daniel could tolerate. And Daniel is indeed afraid, judging from his face and how he becomes more bitey.

• After-the-fact scene number 3, with Lestat staring as Louis' sex worker's breast. The after-the-fact information is obviously Lestat staring at Antoinette in the next episode which led to his affair. Of course, Louis would questioning when Lestat started to be unfaithful, when his eyes started straying; a very common question for people who are cheated. Is it really from the beginning? (Fenwick's arm hasn't healed yet since Paul's funeral; Google tells me it can take six weeks)

• "It's not cheating if it's with a woman" oh hey best cameo of the year lol

• Lestat's face when he explained about no telepathy is like he just had a war flashback

• I need more Florence vs Lestat cat fight seriously

• "Haven't heard a knock on my door. It's a half-mile both ways" SPEAK IT LOUDER LOUIS. Like, I understand you're grieving and blaming your son, but no call whatsoever from everyone for 3 months after your son just suddenly moved out?? Insanity. (But also not surprising seeing my own big family responding to silent treatment 💀) The homophobia jumps out as well. Paul is Louis' real tie to the family.

• Jacob's expressions during the racist lawyer scene muah

• "If you hide from me this long again, I'll hunt you down..." again, his family knows where he lives 🤷‍♀️

• Grace pointing out the "extra" cash and the fact he lives nicely in the Quarter now 👀👀

• "What can i do to make it up to you?" This whole scene shows Lestat's method in deescalating a situation. He obviously doesn't understand the point of the problem is yet he doesn't try to understand. Louis is giving him a silent treatment (which means he's my bestie, cos silent treatment is my flaw as well lol), but idk instead of showing a good intention by asking Louis to explain to him or something, he asks for a shortcut instead. He needs Louis to verbalize the solution for them. We're fast forwarding, but iirc this is similar approach he has with Antoinette as well. Here, Louis is still willing to verbalize the solution.

• The way Louis' neck moves when Lestat says "How can i stop you?" oh he loves being pampered

• Louis doesn't put "sir" after Tom's name when signing the purchase 😎✊

• The body double throws me out I'm so sorry 😭

• 1912-1917

• This whole thing with Benny feels like a thriller movie. Kudos for the director

• Of course he came to his family bringing money for Grace. It seems it's past bed time. Florence is in her bedroom.

• "It's still Lestat" There's passive aggressiveness into it idk. Like, she expects them to have broken up already

• The last victim in 2000. noting that down.

• Louis really wants Daniel to highlight he's different from the other girls. I mean, the other vampires.

• Daniel's face over the slurping 😭

• He put Benny on the floor so he wouldn't roll down from the sofa 🥺

• "If you love your family, spare them the pain" I believe Lestat is being genuine here. He basically goes I've been there done that, and look at me now it ended so badly.

• "I'm your family, Louis" 😭

• Then he basically makes a perfect summary of Louis aww

• "Maybe there's deaf, blind porter and kill when we get to the hotel." Louis, you're not so different from the other girls (vampires) 😭

• That long ass overture just for two tickets to the opera. Lestat, please.

• The whole "there was present a kind of worship on my part" 🤌 *insert that gif of pen on fire while writing*

• You can see the exact moment when it dawns on Lestat he has fucked up with bringing Louis to a racist opera house. God, what a loser (affectionately). It's never come into his mind how bad it would ruin Louis' mood. Like, he understands racism is bad as a concept, but he doesn't understand how it affects one's self. He thinks that would be a minor convenience to Louis that Louis could just brush off.

• Lestat 🤝 Me, accidentally become manipulative when we're in a pinch. (re: the loneliness speech)

• Louis is so down bad, unfortunately ❤️

• "And this woman sang for us, it seemed, articulating the difficult love we often had troubles exptessing ourselves" So beautiful.

• Misophonia girlies (gn) unite! I will always enjoy Lestat killing Ernesto I'm so sorry lol. Saw a reaction from someone who does classical music and they're ouching as well. So, GO FOR IT SON KILL HIM

• Lestat slowly killing Ernesto while Louis watching his memories to feel the "charge" of connecting to humanity. Oh, they are made for each other.

• The story with Alice, that she felt not good enough for him so she always died his eyebrow brown, but Daniel actually liked it when she didn't do it. Aww Daniel is trying to cheer him up.

• About the question for this week, does Louis really need to maintain the thread and why? Idk, i feel like Louis feels he needs to do it. Maybe to maintain some resemblance of humanity inside him, afraid it will go away over time. But to me, it doesn't really work.

Summary: Okay, if the first episode is about establishing Louis' internal conflicts, about the seduction/hunt and turning, this episode is about what Louis lost and not lost to vampirism. We also see the seed of Loustat's conflicts and how ineffective their method to solve them. And it's about vampirism, it's also the episode where we get the vampire lore the most. Of course over the months after season 1 aired I have kept several theories up about where the Dubai timeline is set based on the books. And the teasers of season 2 have debunked some of them. But this rewatch gives me another theory which I will keep to myself. All I can say though, instead on certain period of time of book canon, I think they're taking elements from different era of the books for Dubai. Can't wait to see the answer in S2 ❤️

[ya-zz]

I know you have a lot on your inbox, including a continuation of a request I did, but I must share with you this. Again, feel free to not write it because you have a lot on your inbox right now! (Also, I'm being naughty and this is slight NSFW) But what if, reader who has advanced hacking abilities, knows they can't defeat Ramattra in a fight - so they choose a rather, unethical way of dealing with him. They simply unlock a part on his systems that allows him to feel want, desire, especially for reader. So when they're in front of him, he can't seem to function properly and fight back against them - even as reader is taunting and humiliating them with words because it's simply, so fun to have the Omnic below them for once. -Nia

We be moving along with these, another one down, two to go!

Hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it! ♥ Thank you for requesting again!

Ramattra x Reader (gen)

Word count: 1368

Slight NSFW, but nothing explicit

The battle draws on, longer than what anyone would’ve wanted. Too long, in fact. Soldiers were getting tired from both sides, many had fallen, but those still standing pushed forward, fighting until their last, inevitable breath. 

You had your skillset, sure, but this wasn’t the way to go - you weren’t the best at close hand combat, let alone hitting shots with rifles from up high. If anything, you were just a pawn, a sacrifice for the ‘greater good’. Your abilities were better suited in the backlines, bringing down the omnics one by one, shutting down their systems through hacking, the larger threats basically being fried from the inside.

One omnic, however, proved to be a rather difficult challenge. His firewalls were up higher than you had imagined and the only way to shut him off was to get closer and strengthening the signal. So, through the gunfire and smoke, you went to seek him out. Any omnic in your way wouldn’t even have the time to raise their weapon before they fell down, systems in overload before switching off entirely. 

In the distance, behind a small army of Null Sector soldiers, you spot him, staff by his side as he watched on, the orb next to him rattling and vibrating aggressively. You had a short amount of time before he spots you, so you hide, pulling out your holopad and getting to work. Layers upon layers of code appeared as you worked, not noticing the small warning symbol on the corner of the screen. 

He was fighting back.

His optics scanned the area but nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so he switched his sensors to heat signatures and thats when he spots you, crouched down against the wall. He goes to take a step forward but he stops, systems slowly being overloaded with information he did not need. Releasing an irritated sigh, he fights back again, regaining control of his own body and moving towards you. His men part ways, watching him and with no orders given, they stay there, not interfering with his leader and his motives.

That’s when he notices something different within his systems, it almost makes him stop moving entirely. He tries to lock it back down, only to be met with system errors that you were causing. You had unlocked a module that should’ve never been touched, a module he had kept behind tighter security for the sake of his ideals. 

Emotions. Love. Lust. Desire.

His mind was working overtime to shut it down, but nothing was working. You were good, he’d give you that, but toying with him in the middle of a war? Annoying little human. 

Despite his best efforts in fighting back against you, you were persistent, looking through the code at an inhuman pace. Only when your holopad flashes red, omnicode warnings popping up, did you realise he was practically unhackable. A language you could barely understand stopped you in your tracks, and when a shadow appeared in front of you, did you then realise the predicament you were in.

“Not good enough, it seems.” He spoke, looking down at you.

Eyes shot up to look at him, a sudden panic flowing through you as you stand, still shorter than the omnic in front of you. 

His optics look you over, although hidden by his faceplate. He saw the rise in heartbeat as he stepped closer, trapping you against the wall, a hand resting just above the left side of your head as his other hand grabs you by the chin, forcing you to look at him. “You have my attention.”

A fire was burning inside of him, something inside of him wanted to take you back and do unspeakable things to you, to watch you break from his touch. 

He saw the panic in your eyes, watching it mix with confusion before realisation sets within them. A smug smile appeared on your face as you lock eyes with him, a leg coming between his as your hands push him down to the asphalt. 

The omnic grunts, the sudden motion catching him off guard, and even more so when you sit on top of him, straddling his hips with hands pressing his wrists to the ground. 

“This was one way to get you down. Not the way I planned, but I like it regardless.” You speak out, cocking your head to the side in a playful manner. 

He keeps his optics glued onto you, watching you shift on top of him. He goes to speak out, but is met with a low static rumble.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Can’t speak?” He heard the taunting frequency in your tone, hands tightening into fists before releasing slowly. “Y’know, Ramattra, you’re quite a tough one to crack…” 

Just the way you said his name sent a cold chill though his systems, causing him to pause all movement and thoughts momentarily. 

You lean down, head coming level to his. “That just means there’s more fun to have, don’t you think?” A hand slowly comes up to his cheek, fingers dragging along the purple metal.

“Evil little human.” He mutters, feeling the burning sensation inside of him again. His systems were crashing, glitching in his vision. He was defenceless and because of one human. 

A small yet playful laugh escapes you as you trace the white faceplate, fingers dipping behind as you moved your hand up. You could feel him shudder at the touch, his ‘breathing’ deep and hitching in his vocaliser. “Perhaps… but you’re enjoying this…” 

“You-” his head tilts away slightly, which only gains another laugh from you. 

“Look at you… So weak… So… touchable…” 

“This is absurd.” He spits, unable to move as his systems work against him.

“This… This is fun.” You pull back, admiring the view. The Null Sector leader beneath you, unable to do anything, unable to fight back. “Your body is telling me otherwise. You want this, don’t you, Ramattra?”

“No- I-” His vocaliser stutters. He knows he can’t do anything and the warnings are proof of that. When he feels your hand move across his chest, fingers dipping between the metal braces, he tenses, a barely audible gasp escaping him, only wanting you to touch him more.

You smirk again, watching him as your code continues working in making him submissive and defenceless. Being this close, no, being on top of him, the signal was at its peak, unable to be shut off.

“Oh, Ramattra. This sight is just… so pretty.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Someone’s getting a little riled up.” The playfulness returns as your hand presses firmly against his side, toying with the thick tube that ran across it. You heard his fans pick up speed to which you smiled at. 

“You- I-” He stutters again, chest rising and falling slowly, he didn’t want to admit that he was enjoying this. “I will make you pay for this.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Another firm grasp elicited a groan from him.

For a moment, everything fell silent before the gunfire broke through, shouting from both sides echoing through the battlefield. You look up, narrowing your eyes as you try to make out small figures through the dust. 

“Playtime is over, Ramattra.” Looking back down at him, you grin, watching his motionless body but still hearing him move his optics. 

He stays laying on the ground as you get up, but not without planting a kiss on his forehead first before completely getting off of him. The lights flicker as his optics watched you, focusing on your body, your movements. Part of him wanted to keep you on top, hands grasping at your sides, a bruising grip on your thighs, but he couldn’t move to fill that desire.

“Maybe another time.” He spoke, vocals low and muted with static as he watched you leave. Slowly, his systems fought back, regaining strength and finally getting rid of your attacks. Ramattra stands, facing the direction you left in. He keeps that module open for a little while longer before shutting it back down. However, he still felt like he wanted you, and even more so when a message appeared in his vision:

I look forward to it~

[vega-creates-things]

Muse (Part 1)

ROTTMNT Leo x GN/Rabbit Yokai!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Embarrassment, Aged-up Turtles

Synopsis: You've been visiting Run Of The Mill Pizza maybe a little too often just to see the blue clad turtle of your affections and draw him. You're pretty sure he hasn't noticed you at all, bad news for you, he has and he is far too curious about why you watch him.

A/N: First things first, I am just getting back into writing so sorry if the pacing is off or theres any small inconsistencies! I'm definitely going to do my best going forward. If there's any spelling errors, just know I write from my phone primarily so its inevitable (sometimes I go through and re-edit after posting just to feel something). As well if any of the characters are written slightly out if character it's because I've never written any of them before so this is a learning curve. Also! I’m tagging this fic with the hashtag “#Tmnt Muse Fic” so if you’re looking for updates either check my blog directly or that tag :) ALSO, This is a repost from my old side blog since I wanted to make a main blog for this stuff. Anyway, I'm just here to have fun! So! With that being said, let's get going, shall we?:

♡♡♡ 

You had been calmly seated in a booth at Run of the Mill Pizza, glancing around occasionally and drawing the people that sat in the other booths. The thing was, however, you were waiting for your favourite muse who often came here with his three brothers.

Just the thought of the blue clad turtle set your heart a flutter, and when you finally saw him come into the restaurant with the other colour coded turtles, you couldn't help but sigh under your breath, staring dreamily in his direction. 

It took you a moment to get yourself under control and soon you found yourself eyeing the group as they chattered away with Señor Hueso on their way towards a booth in a further away corner than you would have liked, but nonetheless you were happy to have caught sight of them. 

Grabbing your trusty navy blue conte pencil, you angled yourself in your seat just right and began sketching the red eared slider who had long since won your heart even if you'd never actually interacted before beyond almost bumping into each other once a few months back. You were a simple rabbit yokai after all, and you couldn't help your feelings. 

You were careful and precise with your actions, eyes flicking up to your muse often as you drew him, absolutely losing yourself in the process.

The sketchbook you used was already chalk full of many studies of the turtle and each and every one of them seemed to be greatly improved from the last. 

Something you were grateful for in the few months of this was that he had never noticed what you were doing. You, after all, assumed it might make him uncomfortable that you drew him every time he happened to enter your line of sight.

Though, in a way, you were also disheartened by this news. A part of you- the part that wasn't afraid of his immediate rejection- longed for his eyes to fall on you. You imagined the gaze would be warm and friendly. 

Having lost yourself in the details of your sketches by adding some slight shading and rich red conte wherever necessary, you didn't notice that the slider had come over until it was too late and he was leaned forward on your table looking at you, with amusement. To your advantage, however, your sketchbook was perfectly just out of his view. 

Clearing his throat, the man watched you jump in surprise and slam the book against your chest so hard it nearly knocked the wind out of you. "So, are you just going to keep watching me every time I come in here, or are you actually gonna talk to me?" He asked, tone somewhat smug and amused. 

Eyes flitting between his face and the tabletop with your half eaten pizza, you began to fidget, swallowing thickly at the question. He had noticed?! Of course he noticed- you had never exactly been the most secretive while watching him- 

Waving his hand in front of your face as he noticed the way you'd seemingly frozen up, the slider cocked a brow bone. "Uh- hello? Did I lose you?" 

"You noticed?" You blurted the question out without a moment's thought, shoulders raised in a tense manner.  That had not been what you wanted to say to him, in fact, you had wanted to apologize for possibly making him uncomfortable all this time, and yet you couldn't get anything else out. 

Giving you a confused look, the turtle pieced together that you were stuck on that particular detail and chuckled. "I know, I'm so observant. Thank you, thank you!" He offered with a light chuckle, but soon added a more serious, "okay okay, when you have three brothers, at least one of them is going to point out when someone is staring at you constantly. I did notice it happening on my own at first though!" He rambled absently.

You groaned and tucked your face into your hands, hiding the steadily heating skin from his gaze. 

Deciding to take the chair directly across from you and spin it around so he could sit on it backwards and rest his arms on the back to use as a head rest, the turtle spoke up again, "so, you gonna explain why you stare so much? I mean, I know I'm hot, but I didn’t assume I was "the most distractingly hot guy in the room" hot." 

"I just- no reason." You blurted dumbly, barely peeking up at him through your long ears which had flopped into your face from the position you had ended up in, curled over yourself. 

"Sure... and that's why you hid that book of yours the moment you noticed me?" 

"Yes..?" 

"And Donnie calls me a bad liar." He snickered under his breath. "But for real, are you actually not going to show me?" 

Grimacing, you try and force yourself to relax. "Nope. You'd have to kill me and then deal with my spirit to be able to look." 

The bluntness of your delivery caused the slider to breakdown laughing, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. "I will see whatever it is some day." 

"Keep dreaming." You blurt, your mind already racing at the implication of him actively talking with you again.

"Ooo, I like that, the bunny has a bit of bite to them." He teases, standing up slowly. "I'm Leo, by the way, in case you were curious." 

You went to reply, still mildly surprised with the situation, but just as you manage to offer your name in reply, he's already walking back to his table and all you can do is stare at his carapace. "I'm... y/n-" 

You set the book back on the table, setting your conte pencils neatly on top of it, running over the conversation in your head over and over again. 

When you eventually get home you're still reeling, entirely unsure of what to do with yourself.

—

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

[queen-dahlia]

𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐯𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧

𝗠𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗥𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟳

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation | ⫘⫘ : flashback | 4:4 answer

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Clavis: "I'll tell you one thing. There is no such thing as coincidence in genius."

Clavis: "Some things are inevitable... he manipulates the situation as he sees fit, like pawns on a board."

Clavis: "That's why, Emma, when dealing with geniuses, you always question everything."

Clavis: "It's alright to be suspicious. If your mind gets tired, I'll do something about it, okay?"

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

(If Clavis' advice is true, there is always a flip side to Prince Gilbert's kindness.)

Gilbert: "Okay, we're here."

Emma: "Thank you very much."

Prince Gilbert carries me to my room in a side hug and gently sets me down on the bed.

Getting used to it is a terrible thing, and at first I felt embarrassed and apologetic,

By the time I came to the room, the tension had completely dissipated.

(It may be that there weren't many eyes on us.)

(… That's why I'm caught.)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Clavis: "Hmmm... you're really eager to hold Emma, aren't you?"

Gilbert: "It's a great way to show off our friendship."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

(I thought it was the same for me. I wondered if he was trying to show people around and isolate me more and more.)

(But I don't think it would have made sense because there were so few people we passed.)

And Prince Gilbert is the kind of person who doesn't do meaningless things.

Gilbert: "Little bunny."

(!?)

As I was pondering, Prince Gilbert peered into my face.

Suddenly, my vision filled up, and my heart skipped a beat.

I was somewhat embarrassed and looked away, but Prince Gilbert showed no sign of letting go of my face.

Emma: "… What is it?"

Gilbert: "Even though I'm right in front of you, it's like your mind is not here."

Gilbert: "Look at me?"

Emma: "… You're too close."

Gilbert: "Isn't this a great opportunity to look at my handsome face?"

(Oh, I'm aware of that.)

Gilbert: "I'm tempted to torment you if you're too defiant."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

When I returned my gaze with a sense of foreboding, Prince Gilbert laughed and pulled his face away from mine.

(...Hmm?)

Gilbert: "I'm going back then. You can kiss me goodnight if you want."

Emma: "No... would you like something to drink?"

Gilbert: "What, you want to keep me around?"

Emma: "You're... breathing a little erratically, aren't you?"

Gilbert: ". . . . . ."

Emma: "Your smile won't fool me."

When I got closer, I noticed that Prince Gilbert's breathing was slightly raspy.

(Carrying me from the garden to my room is a tremendous burden, if you think about it.)

I didn't pay much attention to it because Prince Gilbert seemed unconcerned, but it seems that the burden was still on him.

Gilbert: "...Ah, I can't hide it."

Prince Gilbert gave up and sighed and fell next to me.

Gilbert: "I thought I could do it because Miss Bunny was lighter than I expected..."

Gilbert: "I'm a little... low on stamina."

Emma: "...I'm surprised."

Gilbert: "I usually hide it well. It's my only weakness."

(Come to think of it...)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gilbert: "There's no way you can keep up with him."

Emma: "But—"

Gilbert: "I hate it. I don't want to run in vain."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

(He usually avoids doing anything that puts too much stress on his body.)

Emma: "Are you sure you can tell me that?"

Gilbert: "If you're going to be with me all the time, eventually you'll figure it out, won't you?"

Gilbert: "By the way, only a few people in my country know about it, and even fewer outside of the country."

Gilbert: "The little rabbit found out my weakness. I wonder what she will do to me, I'm scared."   //   "I just let the little bunny know my weakness. I wonder what she will do to me, I'm scared."

(No, I'm the one who's scared!)

Now that I know the weakness of the Prince of Obsidian, whom everyone fears, I can be eliminated.

(However, if you really don't want people to know, you should hide it better... right?)

I get up from the bed and pour a glass of drinking water provided in my room.

When I offered it to Prince Gilbert, he sat up and began to drink, gulping it down.

Emma: "Why did you carry me if you knew it would end like this?"

Emma: "You don't have to show off our closeness to anyone."

Gilbert: "Oh, you're asking?"

Gilbert: "You hid it from me, and I hid it from you."

Emma: "…!"

Prince Gilbert pulls my skirt up to my knees with one hand.

My bandaged leg couldn't be fooled.

(I wonder how long he's been aware of this... He doesn't miss even the slightest change in me.)

Gilbert: "If you hid your injuries from me, someone must have done it to you."

Gilbert: "It makes me want to kill someone who is so rude to put their hands on someone's prey."

Emma: "I was just careless! I wasn't facing forward as I was walking..."

Gilbert: "I see. I wonder how your leg got caught and fell down."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "Ahaha, you can't hide anything from me. I'm a prince in a country where you have to be sensitive to lies to survive."

Emma: "… You're too tough."

Gilbert: "It's better to beg face to face than to lie."

Gilbert: "That way, I can still be there for you when you want me to be."

Emma: "Will you listen to me if I beg?"

Gilbert: "That depends on my mood."

Emma: "I'm in trouble."

Gilbert: "Let's talk about it, then. The only thing you can be hurt by are my bad intentions."

Prince Gilbert grabs my hand and makes me sit next to him.

Perhaps because of the strain on his body, his temperature is warmer than usual.

(As if…)

Emma: "It's as if you're really worried about me."   //   "...As if you are seriously worried about me."

Gilbert: "Haha, it's disgusting to be worried. I just didn't like that it was unexpected."

(. . . . . .)

(…Ah, it's such a pain.)

I was so skeptical that even Prince Gilbert's good intentions might have some hidden motive.

I almost feel disgusted with myself for not being able to receive kindness honestly.

Emma: "Thank you very much."

Gilbert: "Fufu... You're so kind, aren't you?"

Emma: "Kind?"

Gilbert: "You feel guilty about the bad guys, don't you?"

Emma: "Don't you feel... bad?"

(Even though it is a matter of position, even good intentions are denied...)

Gilbert: "Me? Not at all."

Emma: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "Because that's all I do."

Gilbert: ""Don't be afraid of me." That's not a very convenient statement."

Gilbert: "You needn't worry about it either. It's just a fact that my good intentions and my bad intentions are two sides of the same coin."

Emma: "Still..."

Emma: "It's painful."

(The more time I spend with Prince Gilbert, the more the pain may increase.)

Even if Prince Gilbert were really a kind prince, he would not be able to open his heart.

That is the relationship between the enemy prince and Belle.

Gilbert: "—…He's right, you are a little dangerous."

Emma: "Hm?"

Gilbert: "Fufu, it's nothing."

Holding the glass in my hand, Prince Gilbert stands up.

Prince Gilbert's breathing was already steady, and he was back to his usual self.

Gilbert: "I just thought I disliked that about you."

(You disliked it, huh…)

Emma: "…It's a little late for that."

Emma: "I thought you hated me from the very beginning."

I just said what I had been thinking for a long time, but Prince Gilbert's eyes widened in surprise.

Gilbert: "Why?"

Emma: "If you had even the slightest liking for me, you wouldn't be approaching me."   //   "If you have even the slightest interest in me, you shouldn't approach me."

(Prince Gilbert is kind to me, but he behaves knowing that his kindness is deadly poison.)

(Except for the fact that I am Belle, I can't help but think there is a grudge.)

Gilbert: "Pfft…Haha…Ahaha!"

After a beat, Prince Gilbert bursts out laughing.

It was a lively laugh, as if something had been blown away.

Gilbert: "You're right. Maybe I don't like everything about you."

(…You sound as if you just found out.)

Gilbert: "I hate you, so I'll be more kind to you from now on."

His cold fingertips brush back my bangs, and his lips touch my forehead.   //   The coldness had returned to his fingertips, brushing my bangs aside as his lips pressed against my forehead.

It is incredibly gentle and embarrassingly sweet, and yet...

The suffocating feeling of being clutched directly by the heart never went away.

══════════════════

A few hours after Prince Gilbert left the room,

Emma: "Excuse me."

At a time when everyone was asleep, I knocked on the door of Prince Chevalier's room.

Chevalier: "Oh? I thought the odds were 50/50, but there was a rare woman."

(Huh...)

A long-haired man stands beside Prince Chevalier at his office desk.

The man in the uniform of the imperial guard, one of the elite of the elite in the palace,

He gave me a glance and took a step backward.

Emma: "I'm sorry... Were you busy?"

Chevalier: "No, we're done."

Chevalier: "Continue to monitor him."

The man nods his head without expression and leaves the room without a sound.

As we passed each other, I saw the insignia of a tiger being pinned on his chest.

Emma: "The one just now..."

Chevalier: "A spy who monitors Eyepatch. Don’t worry about it."

(He had professional surveillance too. I didn't notice that.)

Chevalier: "So?"

Flipping through the papers in his hand, Prince Chevalier urged.

Judging from the way he welcomed me as a matter of course, he may have expected me to arrive with a "50-50" chance.

(Honestly, even now, the scenery of the evening is burned into my mind.)

Prince Chevalier, who had killed the assassin and was standing there unconcerned, was a merciless beast himself.

(That doesn't mean I should run away in fear.)

Even if it's a way of thinking that we can't empathize with,

If we stop trying to compromise, that's the end of it.

(I hate that if I didn't face him today, it would seem that time is up.)

(And…)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gilbert: "You want to know who sent the assassins to Chevalier?"

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

(...I don't want to be misled by Prince Gilbert's information.)

I had something to report, but I put it aside and asked him questions.

Emma: "Was the earlier disturbance caused by Prince Gilbert?"

I meet Prince Chevalier's eyes as he lifts his gaze from his papers.

When I stared back at those cold, glacial eyes, he snickered at me.

Chevalier: "I can't say if it's right or wrong. But it's certainly before the disaster."

Emma: "Disaster?"

Prince Chevalier throws away the documents and folds his arms.

Chevalier: "The Eyepatch is said to have greatly contributed to the expansion of Obsidian's territory over the past decade."

Chevalier: "As far as I know, seven countries have been absorbed or integrated."

(That much...?)

Chevalier: "But other than the most recent bloodstained rose day, no major wars have taken place."

Chevalier: "There have been many military clashes near the border, of course, but I have not heard of any large-scale marches."

Emma: "There were no wars going on, yet the territory was expanded?"

Chevalier: "The word "trampling" does not only refer to the use of force."

(Oh, but...)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Bureaucrat: "The "World Disaster" that has ruled numerous countries through the use of force and rewritten the map of the continent at an extraordinary pace."

Bureaucrat: "He has never lost a battle, and as an Ever-Victorious Marshal, he is a man to watch, a figure of great importance that the entire continent is on the lookout for."   //   "He is a man to watch, a man who has never been defeated on the battlefield, a man who is always on the radar of the entire continent as an Ever-Victorious General."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Emma: "The internal bureaucrats say they rule by force..."

Chevalier: "Until 10 years ago, that was the mainstream. Back when the Eyepatch belonged to the army led by the Emperor."

Emma: "Is it different now?"

Chevalier: "Yes. He appears to be leading an independent army."

(The way he put it, Prince Chevalier may not be sure either.)

Chevalier: "His specialty is mental control; he is a beast that manipulates people into giving up their country at will."

Chevalier: "I have heard that the seven most recently absorbed countries surrendered themselves to Obsidian."

Emma: "That's impossible..."

Chevalier: "It's possible, which is why he is the "Worldwide's Disaster."

(It's hard to believe, but I don't think Prince Chevalier's evaluation is out of line either.)

Chevalier: "I know that each of the countries that have been absorbed has something in common."

Chevalier: "And even Rhodolite has already seen the signs of disaster."

(Maybe...)

Emma: "Was it about the attack today?"

Instead of affirming, Prince Chevalier takes a languid breath.

Chevalier: "He was anti-monarchist."

(Hey, I think I heard somewhere recently that the anti-monarchy group...)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Leon: "Mercenaries?"

Yves: "No, it looks like a mix of amateurs."

Leon: "Right. Given that they know we're royalty and are willing to pick a fight, I'd say they're a radical group of anti-monarchists."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

(Oh, yeah!)

Emma: "The previous disturbances at the orphanage also involved anti-monarchy groups."

Chevalier: "That's probably why there's been so much activity."

Chevalier: "Disasters begin where nations are divided in opinion."

Chevalier: "It's a clash between the so-called monarchy and anti-monarchy organizations. The Eyepatch will take advantage of that."

Chevalier: "I don't know what he's using to control the kings of the nations."

(Every country has people who are dissatisfied with the political system.)

(Although I thought Rhodolite was a peaceful place to live.)

Even though I live in the city, I don't hear many complaints about the royal family.

But maybe that was just me living in a small world.

Chevalier: "For about 10 years now, the number of anti-monarchy people in Rhodolite has been increasing."

Emma: "Is it because of the bloodstained rose day?"

Chevalier: "Yes. Even though we pushed back the Obsidian invasion, there was tremendous damage."

Chevalier: "The king's diplomatic skills may have been at fault."

Chevalier: "Isn't it inhumane to sacrifice our people to a cruel and merciless beast?"

Chevalier: "Those sparks are still smoldering, lurking everywhere in the city."

(...What did Prince Chevalier do by "sacrificing the people?")

The atmosphere is not conducive to listening now.

Chevalier: "Today's case is an extension of that."

Chevalier: "No, it's possible that things are worse than I assumed."

Emma: "Does it have anything to do with Prince Gilbert's visit to Rhodolite?"

Chevalier: "No doubt there will be. But the anti-monarchy group is not monolithic either."

Chevalier: "Up until now, we've had no problem leaving them alone without purging them..."

I can't hear beyond those words.

The atmosphere is breathtaking, as if some terrible decision is about to be made.

(Leon is a prince who thinks so much better of the idea of being close to his people that he cares about the orphanage…)

(Perhaps the opposite is true of Prince Chevalier—a prince who is willing to sacrifice in order to keep the country in existence.)

It is impossible to determine which is right and which is wrong,

Maybe one day I will stand up to Prince Chevalier.

(No, at least it's okay now... Even Prince Chevalier is just talking about possibilities.)

Chevalier: "I assume you are going to my foolish brother's soirée tomorrow? You should see it firsthand."

You were talking about Clavis,

With that, Prince Chevalier reached for a book on his desk.

Emma: "What does Clavis's party have to do with the anti-monarchy faction...?"

Chevalier: ". . . . . ."

(I guess that means I'll know if I go there.)

Perhaps he has finished saying all he has to say. Prince Chevalier opens the book and falls silent.

(It seems there is still a lot I need to know, as Belle.)

══════════════════

The soirée hosted by Clavis, which Prince Gilbert had negotiated to go to, was an ordeal to get there.

Gilbert: "Luke, there's a pit maybe three steps ahead of you, so be careful."

Luke: "Seriously!?"

Luke, with me on his shoulders, makes an oversized jump across the floor.

(Wow...!)

Looking down calmly, I saw that some of the floors were discolored, as Prince Gilbert pointed out.

Luke: "Why the hell is Clavis' villa turned into a trap house!?"

Gilbert: "Oh, Luke. Maybe something will come down from the left in two seconds."

Luke: "Whooaoa!"

Luke jumps back without a pause, and a thick liquid pours from the ceiling.

(This smell, is that honey!?)

Gilbert: "Nice, Luke. If a physical monster like you didn't take the lead, we would have fallen prey."

Luke: "You... with your theatrical face."

(Luke is also great at dodging traps with his natural athleticism, but...)

(It is also amazing that Prince Gilbert sees through all the cleverly set traps.)

I had a bad feeling from the moment I arrived at Clavis's villa, where the secret soirée was to be held.

An ingenious building in the midst of a dense forest–

The cawing of crows echoed around me, though, giving me an ominous feeling of foreboding,

Above all, the evening party was supposed to be held, but there were no guests, so I thought that the driver had made a mistake.

(Actually, the place was right, and it looked like we just arrived a little late…)

There was no guide in sight, and the search began with only Gilbert's words of encouragement, "It's okay, let's go ahead."

To be honest, it was more than a night party.

(I want to ask Clavis what it's all about.)

Emma: "Luke, if you're getting tired of carrying me around, please put me down—"

Luke: "I don't think so. Don't be silly."

Luke: "I'm the one who's supposed to be holding you today."

(I wonder if it's really okay.)

For some reason, Prince Gilbert, who said he had received an invitation from Clavis, appeared in front of me with Luke in tow.

Luke has been carrying me all the way from the castle, as he said, "I brought a courier with me today."

Maybe the reason he brought him as a helper was because he knew we were heading to the traphouse.

(Neither Prince Gilbert nor Luke need to be so overprotective.)

I was half embarrassed and half sorry.

Emma: "…Somehow, I'm sorry."

Luke: "Why are you apologizing? It's what I want to do, so don't worry about it."

Luke: "Well, I'm sure Rio will bite me when he finds out."

Emma: "I've noticed that Rio seems to be very busy these days, except in the morning and at night. I haven't had time to talk to him…"

Gilbert: "Oh, it's because Silvio is making him work hard for you, isn't it?"

Gilbert: "It seems that he was actually trying to make you his personal entertainment."

Gilbert: "The butler noticed that, and instead of touching you, he's working for you."

Emma: "... I didn't know."

(…You mean he was working as my butler while serving as an entertainer to Prince Silvio?)

(Maybe he kept quiet so as not to worry me.)

I was so preoccupied with myself that I felt ashamed of myself for not noticing Rio's unusual condition.

Gilbert: "I'm telling you, you don't have time for Silvio, so just remember that, okay?"

Luke: "Something's fishy."

Luke: "Aren't you the one who put your hand around Rio's neck to keep him away from her?"

Gilbert: "Ahaha!"

Emma: ". . . . . ."

(What? Really?)

Prince Gilbert's joyful laughter is suddenly drowned out by the sound of a glass breaking.

What followed was a deafening, angry shout.

Luke: "What is it?"

Emma: "It's like someone's fighting over there..."

Gilbert: "Hehe…"

Gilbert: "Humans are ugly."