#It's frustrating when you know Bad does trust Foolish

[shadowfloofster]

Seeing so many people lump Bad into the category of "He mistreats Foolish! He doesn't care about him at all and doesn't trust him!" is incredibly frustrating when you actually SEE them interact outside of Bad messing with Foolish stuff.

Yes, Bad messes with Foolish but they do it to each other. It's a mutual thing and never go across any boundaries (if they do they'll back track and undo whatever was done. Like when Bad encouraged others to build inside the dragon, before they left he made sure they undid all the blocks that would affect the look of it from the outside) and as a "thanks for letting me mess with you so much" Bad leaves multiple gifts for Foolish! The platforms at the perfect height and distance to look over the titan, the scavenger hunt for Foolish's 10 stacks of pizzas with a massive reward for him and Leo at the end, making the conduit for Foolish when asked, the beacons at the titan and the backpack with many enchantment books, blocks, exp and upgrades.

The 2 trust each other but are also out to get each other. Bad wouldn't leave Pomme with Foolish if he thought he wasn't trust worthy of watching his daughter. Foolish wouldn't leave the tree in his home Bad and Pomme made if he was genuinely bothered by it (Bad expects it to disappear at some point too, as it's Foolish's home). Foolish and Bad wouldn't have followed Jaiden together, the 2 relying on each other to make sure they didn't lose her and stayed invisible (even if they did argue 99% of the time). When in the dungeon Foolish wouldn't have been calling out to Bad, asking if he was okay as Bad was being swarmed by mobs.

If Foolish was actually trapped in the nether, Bad would have tried to help him get out. If Bad truly didn't trust Foolish, he wouldn't hang out with him at all or tell him things, or even give him access to his home. He wouldn't have stuck up for Foolish against Max when they were talking about kicking Foolish out (even if he did play into it too, but that's how they are with each other. Foolish told Max Bad did a survey for the federation for the exact same reason, to make the other look bad)

Others might not trust Foolish or might mistreat him, Bad however does trust Foolish. And Foolish trusts Bad. Bad knows Foolish's limits and while might push them, he knows where to stop. They can predict each other's actions and motivations incredibly well. They respect each other and trust each other but show it differently to everyone else, in a way no one else understands because they've been friends for that long.

They both trust each other with their kids. They know the other is a great parent as much as they might say otherwise.

So no, Bad should not be lumped in with everyone else who doesn't trust Foolish or mistreats him. Because he doesn't. He trusts Foolish more than anyone and they treat each other the exact same way, Bad just having more free time to mess with Foolish.

[coreene]

Asking Astarion permission for Halsin

As far as I can tell from the flags, this option should appear regardless if it's spawn or ascended Astarion and it doesn't matter if it's before or after Cazador fight.

Player: You wouldn't believe the conversation I've just had with Halsin... Astarion: Ah, ha ha ha, I was wondering when you were going to ask me about this. Player: It's all right with you? You don't sound fazed... Astarion: The druid is unique. He has a lot of experience with this type of arrangement. Thus, I'm sure it would be quite a harmless affair.

This is the continuation of the above conversation. See how it ends with "jump to node 853". If I understand it correctly node 138 and the following dialogue happens when this conversation happens after Cazador fight.

Astarion: I guessed. The man can't stay quiet about 'enjoying the freedom of Nature's gifts'. I bet he'd outlaw clothing if he could. Player: I wouldn't even consider it if it bothered you. Astarion: I trust you to make choices that are not going to hurt what we have. 1. Player: I want to see what happens with him. Astarion: Honestly, so do I. What an adventure for you! 2. Player: I care for you a great deal. That's never changing. Astarion: After all this, I've realised it's all right if it does change. If anything changes. 3. Player: I don't know what lies ahead, but I trust you, too. Astarion: You're lucky I'm such an open-minded person.

This is the conversation I think majority of us has seen in the game. This conversation happens when you ask Astarion for permission before Cazador fight.

Astarion: I'm happy for you to have as much Halsin as you wish - but I do have one question. It's not because... you know... we haven't... in a while? 1. Player: Gods, I don't want you to think that for a moment. Astarion: I know I was being foolish. But thank you for saying it. 2. Player: I've admired Halsin for a while, that's all it is. Astarion: I'm fairly sure the only one in the camp who hasn't is Withers, but even with him one can never be certain. Even jerky was meat once. 3. Player: He propositioned me out of nowhere - I just want to see where it goes. Astarion: What hovel were you living in, that you didn't see this coming back in the grove? Honestly. But that's fine. devnote: affectionately 4. Player: What I have with you is wholly different and very special to me. Astarion: Aww. 5. Player: I don't want you to feel bad, but I have felt frustrated. Astarion: Oh. Well, you would. Wouldn't you? It makes sense.

This is the end note. As far as I can tell, all of the nodes above will come down to this, so this is what he'll always say when he gives his permission.

Astarion: Go right on with Halsin. Far be it from me to hold your hunger against you. devnote: genuine about it

Been meaning to post this for a while (like six months, oops). A conversation in discord came up, reminding me that I never did so, I finally got to post all of it.

[plaidos]

Aabria just works at dropout, she's not in charge of hiring or casts, even the director and producer has more control over the cast, Aabria doesnt even work at dropout, she's a guest game master, I don't think she has the power to decide casts, because again, she's a guest gm.

and i’ve never said anything to the contrary 😭 like trust me i don’t blame Aabria for any of this it would be foolish to assume that she is total control over something like this, like, she is the host of a tv show rather than an ordinary DM looking for players in her happened-to-be-streamed campaign — you’re totally right.

…that being said, when she starts (from her personal tumblr account that she uses to talk to fans) blocking trans people who are saying “hey, i noticed there aren’t many trans women in this work environment, and that’s troubling as a transfeminine fan, i hope it’s addressed in future” it does make me start to wonder how she feels about the whole thing.

and also, you know… she has a voice on this show that i — and every other trans woman on earth — don’t. she could say, tweet something, post something even something simple in reference to these concerns. and if she’s not allowed to, if she’s for some reason contractually obligated to not acknowledge stuff like this… then that’s fucked up and she deserves better!!!!

i want to reiterate that the criticism at hand absolutely goes for any & every show on Dropout. whilst i think people have a very fair point in being frustrated that there are no transfeminine players in MisMag specifically, there aren’t enough transfem people ANYWHERE at Dropout, on any Dimension 20 show, Game Changer, Make Some Noise, Dirty Laundry etc etc and to blame Aabria — a guest host — for the shortcomings of a bunch of likely cisgender white men making the casting decisions is obviously racist. anybody who is harassing her or smearing her, cut that shit out. It isn’t helping anybody, it’s making the environment worse for all minorities.

…But again, it would be nice if she didn’t block trans women politely asking to see more transfem talent at her place of work, regardless of her control over that. I think that sets a bad precedent for this discussion & for communication with the transfeminine fans.

[rei-ismyname]

Cyclops ends the revolution

The Jean Grey School X-Men get word that Scott has gathered a whole bunch of people in DC and invited them along. Nobody really trusts the dude right now and speculation about his intentions is rampant. Everyone wants to go, so they do - via Magik express.

Storm is shocked at the amount of people gathered here. All the mutants and then some. It's not clear how exactly he got everyone to come. His method of letting the school know was pretty sneaky, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Infamy can be useful especially if you just want bodies at your press conference. He announces the X-Men as they arrive, describing them positively and welcoming them. The implication is that he's done the same for everyone else - publicly seizing the mutant narrative with his previous revolutionary rhetoric.

The tight panels show as many different faces as possible. They're uneasy and confused, but they're here. Scott explains himself - the revolution was born of frustration and a lack of options, but here's a complete 180 showing all the mutants together with nothing bad happening.

Magneto hovers in a half splash in his black badman costume and asks exactly what he's doing. Untrusted by the X-Men and Magneto - this gathering really is a PR coup. It's also risky as fuck, because everyone knows that the government is still building goddamn Sentinels. That's always the case though, and a sentinel attack would be a demonstration in itself. Scott invites Mags to join him - simultaneously the best and worst optics for this political gambit.

As the X-Men marvel at the reality in untrusting, accusatory tones, Mags joins Scott on stage while declaring that Xavier would have loved this. He probably would, though he'd prefer to be the one in charge. Beast hates it, calling Scott a manipulative bastard (that's what PR is bro) while watching from the school. It's a telling reaction, but he's allowed to hate Scott if he wants to. There's a lot more going on with him, but that's a tale for another time.

The last panel takes the form of a photo still, suggesting media attention and overall success. It's an uplifting moment to end the run on, but the tonal whiplash makes my neck hurt a bit. Storm is 99.9% right when she says that this doesn't change anything. We had run after run of everyone hating mutants no matter what they do, especially this one. Scott's worldview and tactics haven't too far from where Storm's were in the 80s, and everything is much worse for mutants now. It does change the X-Men's view of Scott a little bit, but that's so brief it may as well not have happened.

Ironically, in the next run Scott dies the most hated mutant alive for destroying a cloud - one that Storm goes to war over. This is Bendis putting the toys back in the box for someone else to play with. That's comics, X-Men comics - the genre requires escalation of threats and rolling back victories. It's fitting that The Dream is barely even gestured at right now. How could anyone take it seriously next to the decades of atrocities? It was naive in the 80s and now it looks downright foolish. I wonder what that means for the X-Men's identity as an IP. I'm sure Disney would love to keep playing the hits over and over but I don't think it's sustainable. Time will tell.

[pumpkinpietimb]

will never get over how frustrated it makes me when people (all q! obviously) dont trust foolish because they assime he works for the federations (which hes never explicitly told anyone except jaiden and leo) but they trust fit and cellbit who everyone knows works for the fed and have been giving them information (which they have been clear about). and i get that foolish is unpredictable and chaotic and thats why people dont trust him as much but the argument about him working for the fed is so overdone

It frustrates me so much too!! Like, the way they are so insustent that he's an official Federation worker despite him NEVER giving them an indication that he is feels too much like metagaming. I mean, he technically IS an official Fed worker, but he has never ever EVER told anyone but Jaiden and Leo about it, not even a single hint. Yes, he likes to ask people if he could arrest them, but that literally says nothing about his relations with the Feds. Yes, he's more sus than Cellbit and Fit because the one job he did at first came off malicious and in bad faith, but they literally have no proof that he can do it again.

The characters can be suspicious of him all they want, that makes a lot of sense. But immediately assuming and accusing him of being a Federation worker despite having absolutely no proof other than that one time he arrested Pac e Mike kinda irks me sometimes. Especially when they say things like "You can get me an in on the Feds, right?" "You're close with the Feds, you work with them!"

Things like "You kiss up their ass too much" "You're the buggest Federation dick rider I know" those make sense, because Foolish DOES make that obvious. He COMPLAINS about not getting tasks, he COMPLAINS about not getting jobs, he COMPLAINS about Cucurucho not giving him attention. The way he acts make it look like the Feds don't give a shit about him, not that he works for them. So I really don't see how the others would immediately jump to the conclusion that he's like a top employee of the Feds.

And if anyone wanted to throw the "I'm gonna be the employee of the month" thibg at me, I can also throw back the fact that EVERYONE on that Island is technically an employee now. They all get tasks and they do them and they get paid. And when Foolish said that to Cellbit, he immediately followed it up with "I don't know how I'm gonna do it, but I WILL." Which indicates that he has no way of being the employee of the month.

[autumnslance]

The Road to Tertium

Jullus pyr Norbanus calls the twins children, but is obviously quite young himself; Cirina calls him a "boy" and Maxima notes his youth while also having the title "pyr".

After the disaster at Victor's Spoils, the twins leap at the chance to try again, taking what they learned in dealing with the Garleans there. This worries Y'shtola, but not enough to put her foot down and stop them, nor does Lucia think it a bad idea.

One of my favorite bits here is Lucia's specific language, emphasizing "observe" and "Thancred."

Lucia: You will be received as invited guests, and so I urge you to observe proper social etiquette and conduct yourselves accordingly. Lucia: Your safe return takes precedence above all else. Remember this. Lucia: Thancred in particular will be worried sick if you're gone too long. May the Fury watch over and keep you. Lucia: As I said before, Thancred can be quite the worrier, but rest assured he only has your best interests at heart…

Earlier, when discussing the scouting missions upon arrival:

Thancred: How about you, G'raha? I've a feeling we'll find a use or two for that vanishing spell of yours. G'raha Tia: 'Twould be my honor to be of service, though I doubt that you of all people need rely on my tricks.

After Shadowbringers and that damn trolley duty, we know how effective Thancred can be at hiding when he must, though the toll that can take. His stealth skills also got a decent reminder in the Metal Gear duty on arrival in Garlemald. But the invisibility spell will be handy in a short while here, as the WoL and the twins head to Tertium.

Knowing your friends are watching out for you, WoL and the twins head out on an escort quest, Jullus feeling like he ought to recognize the WoL's name but not quite managing.

Jullus is on the lookout for tails, and makes threats concerning it. But there's no way he will see Thancred--even without G'raha's invisibility spell--if the rogue doesn't want Jullus to see him.

Jullus also doesn't want to hear of a so-called cure for the tempered; his experience with the dangerous afflicted tells him otherwise, nor can he trust the Eorzeans yet. And later of course, we find out his own more personal trauma regarding the tempered, as the party faces more twisted tempered the closer they get to the city and Tertium.

Quintus is one of those stubborn old men whose mind is made up. He believes so thoroughly in Garlean superiority there's no getting through, as obviously frustrated as it makes the twins, who have no further rejoinders.

Aspects of Quintus's speech is not so different from Varis at the Ghimlyt parley; the Garleans were taught that differences and compromise made for poor peace; only might makes right, and anyone who did not agree with Garlemald's rule and order were the warmongers who would see the empire burn. He will not, cannot, believe that altruisim exists or that peace is possible without aggression.

Which is rubbish and foolish, and is why the people he ought to be protecting instead are freezing and starving, leads to him nearly ordering his remaining troops to their deaths, and his own eventual suicide.

The twins are fitted with shock collars, though Quintus has recognized the WoL, and in a fit of story excusing gameplay, doesn't bother having a collar put on WoL, so players might come and go as needed. It's another case of "if this was a single-player game, the situation would be different."

Though honestly after all they've been through, I doubt the twins would react much to the shock collars either. Alphinaud's dealt with a dragon's eye, Alisaie uses pain to get angrier, and they both stood against Emet-Selch in battle. A little magitek shock isn't going to stop the Leveilleurs!

[nicolespeaks]

You don't know me. You don't understand why I do things

All you see is a difficult irrational antisocial stone cold bitch who makes your life harder. Don't tell me to take your heart and your "good" intentions into consideration when you don't take me into consideration, cause the person who claims he knows who I am is a dishonest man who doesn't care about shit, who doesn't think and me first, who piggybacks off of my strength to keep us alive.

I don't feel loved or known by you, so why would I trust you to care for me? You say I'm the one that cared for you in a way your mother never did, so why would I entrust my card to you when you still don't understand me? When you are still unable to truly let go and sacrifice? Why would I trust you when you haven't proven what you've learned, that unconditional family love I have yet to receive from you. You watch me go insane over the things that have happened and still question why I not over it when you yourself refuse to read the book you wrote. I learned you. I put myself aside to understand you, when you speak in frustrations I have a wall that protects me. Where is your wall? Where is your understanding of me? Why is it unacceptable to be a bitch when you can be a cruel asshole to me over shit that doesn't even matter? Why must I understand your tantrums but you can't understand my shut downs? Why do you not understand that I have done things in response to you, not only to show you the unfairness, but to level the playing field. To let you hold something over me cause I'm so tired of accepting the bad qualities in you ish. I can be good. I have been good without your support, but it's you who credits me for the man you are today. You cling to me cause you don't want to let go. Do you know I can't claim you as long as she is alive? As long as she still believes you will come back to her? As long as your body is still being seen by everyone, being sold for profit, you, who you are. Why do you not understand that those things matter to me? That I feel the same protectiveness and possessiveness as you feel over me? That while it may be different for man and woman, I do not want to be the woman who's man has been spoiled by someone else? Do you not understand why Ive done the things I've done, to try and make you understand? That the pain you feel cannot amount to the fraction you've caused upon me. That this shit with you does not end. It will never end, and I didn't get that satisfaction, I never got that closure, I never got anything but pain that I have to overlook because of your good intentions. You ask if I'm dense, how foolish do I have to be to still accept you, stains and all, when this shit is still alive

So why, won't you leave me alone? Why do you refuse to sit and read the book, when the letters are etched into my skin. Pages and pages full. 2 years of this, two years I hold in my heart, and you wonder why I'm not okay every other day when still yet, I caught you just last week giving her what she wanted, instead of me.

Be honest for once, would you survive in my shoes?

[lskywclkcr]

capuchinofoam​:

Hands up in the air and taking a few steps back, Aphra makes sure to look as little intimidating as she can, which with her small stature is normally quite a bit. Yes, she had messed up bad, but it wouldn’t be the first time, all she could do now was damage control, and maybe if luck smiled at her, turn the things around. The boss wanted her to track the kid, probably to capture him, so what if Aphra offered him up to him in a silver tray? Ambitious, but better than a lightsaber through the neck.

“Uhhh Mr. Curiosity? Mrs. Stupidity? Lady Greed? Dunno, man. You got any idea how hard is to keep an stable income in this galaxy? I’m just a girl doing what she can.”

Which certainly wasn’t a lie but neither the whole truth. She doubted the kid intended to actually attack her with that… spear? But you could never be too careful. She takes another step back just in case. There’s also her blaster hanging from her belt, which sure could give her an advantage, but she would do her best to play the harmless confused damsel who doesn’t even remember she’s got that thing.

“Alright, listen, it’s not my first close encounter, I know how this goes. Are you an archeologist too? If you got here first that’s fine, I get it, I’ll just leave; first arrived first served, right?” Except, in that situation she would totally just try to kill the other guy. First arrived first served only counted when you were the only one in the place,“So how about this? Put the spear down and go in that direction, and I’ll go in this one, and everyone’s happy! I’ll just leave, didn’t even like this place that much. It’s all yours. What do you say?”

Luke can't help but narrow his eyes at her. Nothing tells him not to trust her, but there's nothing jumping out at him to take her word as well. He'd be foolish to let his guard down, so as she rambles her reasons the spear doesn't move. Luke's free hand hovers over the lightsaber attached to his hip. He doesn't believe it's within her line of sight, so it's possible he has the element of surprise if needed. Luke honestly doesn't think he'll need it,(he's hopeful he won't), but it's within reach if necessary.

A wave of frustration washes over him. If it's true that she is indeed just someone scrounging artifacts for profit, then his own search has become more challenging. The black market has been a hot spot for Jedi-related trinkets and Empire 'forbidden' teachings that Luke (unsurprisingly) has trouble getting his hands on. People like this, 'archeologists', make Luke's plan to rebuild the Jedi order grueling.

"No, I'm not-" He pauses, letting out a small exhale of frustration. "-An archeologist." Luke doesn't entirely buy that she doesn't know who he is. He has been surprised before, and usually, it's refreshing to not be recognized, but there's no way this is a coincidence. Then again, she doesn't fit the part of those who normally come after him, and there's nothing internally warning him. Luke makes a face, realizing he might've just (nearly) attacked an actual archeologist.

Luke does lower the spear before responding. "You don't have to leave." He has no claim to the temple and while he was truly 'here first', he can't force her to leave. She could be useful to him, seeing as she knew about the location of this old temple, he could only imagine what else she knew that he didn't. "There's enough for the both of us, it might be easier navigating through the temple together." Luke's not happy about it, and as much as he enjoys Artoo's company, it might be nice to have another person to help him.

[bonesandthebees]

guys. we are missing out on the potential of an elementary school PTA au for qsmp. think real housewives kind of drama. quackity is the PTA president because he's old friends with a lot of the school board even though he doesn't show up to like half the meetings because he's busy. there's so much gossip about who the father of his kid is and he definitely gets judgemental side eye from the other parents about it. tilin is doing well at least? even if they do spend more time at roier and jaiden's house than their own sometimes.

bad is another other single parent but he doesn't get gossiped about because he always runs the bake sale fundraiser and does a great job at it so no one wants to upset him. bad and dapper are the type of parent child duo where bad keeps dapper up to date on ALL the drama going on with the other parents (to a child friendly degree) and dapper is going to grow up to be the worst gossip just like his dad.

no one knows what the fuck is going on with charlie and mariana's marriage. if you ask charlie they're in the middle of a divorce. if you ask mariana they're doing perfectly well they just got into a couple's spat this week and charlie is dramatic. what do you mean it happens every week? no no you misunderstood they're doing fine they're definitely not getting a divorce. literally the only thing they have going for them is how both of them went to bat for juanaflippa when she told them she was a girl it's the sole reason the other parents respect them. what's a more pressing issue is that juanaflippa keeps trying to start fights on the playground and instead of discouraging her charlie and mariana both cheer her on and give her lessons on how to punch people.

phil is one of the older parents and is already experienced since he has an adult child and wasn't planning on having another, but he's done the parent game before which is probably part of why chayanne is at the top of his class while also excelling in his karate classes, softball practice, cross country team, etc. missa is his trophy husband who's just happy to be there. literal "she's everything / he's just ken" moment.

yknow when there's that one mom in the PTA group who is very stereotypically attractive and everyone is convinced she was the mistress for her current husband and caused his last divorce? that's foolish. no one trusts him to be around their partners despite the fact that he didn't cheat!!! at the same time, the minute doors are closed everyone is trying to flirt with him and gets frustrated when he insists he's loyal to vegetta. at least leonarda seems happy.

jaiden and roier are like the picture perfect parents with bobby. he and chayanne constantly compete for the top spot in their class. both jaiden and roier work as lawyers and there was a rumor going around that they were representing charlie and mariana respectively for potential divorce number 3 but this didn't seem to cause any tension between them. roier takes over to lead the PTA meetings when quackity can't make it while jaiden sits in the corner awkwardly trying to keep charlie from getting into an argument with mariana again.

no one has seen spreen in ages. there's another rumored divorce going on between him and fit but instead of making it as public as charlie and mariana's problems fit just makes snide comments about his absent husband here and there.

tallulah transferred to the school in the middle of the year and phil invited wilbur to the PTA meetings so he could be involved in the school. quackity and wilbur are exes and while wilbur insists tilin isn't his kid no one quite believes him. he's a very young single parent though and clearly has no idea what he's doing so even if it's a bit strange that his kid is almost the same age as his little brother chayanne, the other parents are relieved that phil seems to be taking the reigns to help him out. also wilbur is a famous musician and he's gotten asked for autographs from some of the other parents of kids in tallulah's class.

dan and maxo only showed up to the first PTA meeting and never came back. trump transferred schools and no one has heard from them since.

[soleilnomoon]

Hello!! I would like to request a situation where Sabo had a crush on y/n when he was younger but since he lost his memories he forgot about her. And around 12 years later when he gets his memories back, he finally remembers and goes to look for her. When he finds her, she's so happy to see him again and they kinda end up confessing to each other.

hi hi ପ(◍•ᴗ•◍)ଓ thanks for being so patient omg but sabo makes my heart hurt, i hope you enjoy <3

1.4k words, fem reader, sfw, 18+ mdni pls, (brief mention of death, nothing serious), angst angst, fluff if you ignore the angst; sabo is bad with words, obvy, feelings are hard ok.

it comes to him in flashes — memories he can’t quite trust, dreams that don’t seem like dreams, images that morph with time. he can’t tell what’s what; truth eludes him at every turn, slipping through his fingers, not tangible enough to be credible, but not outlandish enough to be fake. there are nights where he can’t sleep, where all he sees are blurred images — a pair of warm eyes, a mischievous mouth, soft hair, fidgety hands — those nights are the hardest. a dull ache throbs in his chest, where he rubs at it absently, making him wonder if he’s actually unwell. a subsequent trip to the physician brings no relief; there’s nothing wrong with him. supposedly. 

when he’s overworked himself to the point of exhaustion, to the point of no return — when the shadows in his room come to life, when that same familiar face haunts him, sometimes it’s accompanied by a voice. what frustrates him the most is that in the back of his mind, there’s something reminding him that there’s someone important he’s forgetting. 

it’s not a trustworthy thought, the paranoia might not even be warranted for all he knows. it’s ridiculous, this obsession to find the truth; he should be grateful for the life he has. from what he was told, it didn’t seem like his previous life was worth remembering, but he has a feeling that it couldn’t have all been bad. there had to have been pleasant times, right? his cynicism is fueled by the injustices of the world, of the amount of work they all put in to make sure the waves of change toppled over the powers-that-be. naturally, there’s no need for him to worry about foolish things.

still, the mind does as the mind pleases. 

it’s precisely because of that that when he’s confronted with the gruesome news of ace’s murder — because death is too kind of a word to describe what the navy and the world government did to him — when he’s confronted with the reality that his youngest brother is somewhere out in the world, possibly alone, it really, truly hits him. for days he stays in his room, holed up, trying to jot things down, piece together his scattered memories in an attempt to thread together a cohesive narrative.

by the time he’s done, he’s quite pleased with his work; a long list of names of people he’s known, categorized by those he wants to reacquaint himself with and those he’d rather watch sink to the bottom of the ocean. his parents are on the latter column for obvious reasons; his brother is still up for debate. but one name in particular that is written at the bottom of the list, circled in red several times, is yours.

because the world is thrown into disarray, he’s unable to seek you out just yet, but when he does, it’s with the sole purpose of seeing if you remember him — or, remember anything about the time you shared together as children. it takes a bit of digging, but if there’s one thing about sabo, it’s that he’s persistent even when he’s not guaranteed success. so when he finds your new place of residence, he sets sail immediately — which works in his favor, as he has business in a neighboring island anyway.

after seeing luffy in person after twelve years, he’s determined to properly see — although, he’s not sure if you’ll still feel as interested in seeing him; the anxiety of that, the possibility of a rejection sits heavily at the bottom of his stomach, but he ignores all of that. for your sake, and for his.

it’s on a quiet evening that he finds you, at your favorite café, sitting at one of the small tables outside. you’re sipping on coffee and have a small plate of tea sandwiches, pastries, and the like on the table; in your hand is a book that doesn’t look remotely interesting, but you’re invested anyway. so when he sits down at your table, you don’t notice much until his long leg brushes against yours. frowning, you place your book down, fix him with a hardened stare, lips pressed together as you assess him critically.

sabo is positively beaming — in the only way he knows how, with a haughty look, eyes full of mischief and familiarity, the insufferable smirk only makes him look more attractive. absolutely absurd. after removing his gloves, he steals a sandwich off of the plate and bites into it.

you open your mouth to tell him off — handsome or not you don’t exactly take well to people stealing from you, let alone taking your food without asking — but you realize, with embarrassment, that the reason why he’s been so familiar with you, is because you know him. eyes widening, shock spreading through your body, hands trembling badly enough that you place them underneath your thighs and sit on them.

“s-sabo?” you’re sure it’s him — you’ve dreamt of him so many times you’ve lost count over the years. you’re sure that it was reported that he died — but he’s sitting right there, in the flesh, eating your food. “sabo, is that really you?” your voice is soft, quiet, the disbelief makes him laugh gently.

“it’s really, really me.” his answer is simple enough, but you’re still so uncertain. you have so many things you want to ask him, but the first thing that tumbles out of your mouth is something that makes him laugh louder.

“why the hell are you eating my food?”

he grabs another sandwich and chews thoughtfully, placing his hat down on the seat next to him. 

“why not?” like his brothers, he has an insatiable appetite, and isn’t shy about it at all. “i travel all this way to see you, and you don’t want me to eat?”

face flushed, you ignore the way your heart beats a little bit faster at his words. “the polite thing to do, is to ask for permission, y’know that right?” 

he watches you, amused and nostalgic. “were you always so testy?”

you roll your eyes at his retort, going so far as to smack his arm — something you used to do repeatedly when you were children. “were you always this difficult?” he doesn’t bother answering because you both know the answer already.

it goes like that; the back and forth banter, the light-hearted jokes, before you know it your coffee is done, and sabo’s eaten the remainder of your food. you can’t be mad, though, you’re still trying to process his return. on your walk back home — a walk that sabo insists on taking with you — he tells you a bit about his journey, about the time and people he’s lost. he pauses, which makes you stop walking altogether; life, he finds, is much too short to beat around the bush.

he doesn’t want to lose any more time to what ifs and maybes, so he says the one thing that he’s kept buried deeply inside of him for so many years.

it’s hard to focus when sabo speaks; he’s so dynamic and alluring — and you suppose he was always like that. people get caught in his orbit, unwillingly, and stay forever. you’re one of them. you’ve never stopped thinking about him, but you never dreamt of the possibility of seeing him again. so, in the middle of his rambling — with his flushed cheeks, his rushed confession, the flurry of words making him more embarrassed than he should be — you take his hand in his and admire the stitching on his glove.

“the thing is,” you say coyly, glancing up at him through long lashes, “i’ve always liked you.” you were just waiting for him to come to terms with his own feelings. it’s a miracle that he managed to say that, let alone stay calm as you make your own confession. 

while he hates that it took twelve years to do it, a comforting warmth washes away that ache in his chest, making him feel a little more optimistic about his future. and maybe, just maybe, you will accept that the sabo you knew before isn’t exactly the sabo that he is now. you squeeze his hand reassuringly, and nudge him to keep walking and talking. even if you never see him again after this, you’re glad he made the trip to see you; that he’s alive and doing well is more than enough for you, but hearing the tenderness behind his words, makes you wish you could keep him on your island for longer than he intends to stay.

[just-a-sleepy-idiot]

Valak Imagine: Him seeing you for the first time

Content/Warnings: Nun!Reader, Female!Reader, Blaspemic stuff since it's written out of a demons perspective after all, Based of the movie 'The Nun', Major Spoilers for the Nun!!, Kinda soft Valak

He had paced these holy halls so many times, disguised to sow fear in the nuns that lived here- showing them that evil was among them looking like one of their own. He mocked them with this form, and soon enough death had grasped all of them, all up to one last woman.

Valak wished to take over one of their bodies, but he couldn't deny the satisfaction when the last one chose to commit one of the worst sins the Bible knew, taking her life rather than letting him take over her mortal existence. He thought it was quite funny, to see one of gods devote believers choosing to do this to oppose a demon. He wondered which outcome would have taken on worse judgement- taking her own life or letting her precious little body get taken over by a demon?

He already waited, yearned for others to come which they eventually would. Toying with their sanity and their beliefs, he already felt the arrival of two devote believers coming close.

Eventually you were here- first a priest, and Valak could look deep into his heart and see his guilt haunting him, guilt that the demon would use to torment him later on- this priest and you.

You were wearing a dress, but you might as well have worn the white robes because you emitted something.. pure. No human was ever fully pure, not like they wanted to be, and you too had your yearnings and troubles of course but he saw purity because you were fully aware of them and faced yourself with clarity and judgement.

You weren't a blind follower of the book, driven by blindness, guilt or foolishness.

Valak huffed in contempt, instantly feeling how the opposing nature of his origin and your devotion was stirring up inside of him. Like magnets, wanting to draw each other away.

You stayed now for two nights, and he had already begun playing his schemes with the priest but you.. he still only.. watched. He still only observed you, and he wasn't sure why he was so hesitant.

You were only a mortal after all, you would tremble at the mere sight of him. He felt no fear, so maybe it was.. curiosity?

His demonic nature longed to corrupt you, to teach you fear and see you scream like the other nuns. He was the defiler, the profane, the Marquie of snakes. He wanted to mock and corrupt and watch the ones who serve god crumble in their beliefs.

So why did he keep his distance with you?

A few days went by, and both you and the priest slowly begun to understand what had happened here and how it was tied to the evil that was roaming this place.

Valak had shown you images of the nuns that lived here, and you were believing everything as if it was actually happening. He watched you interact with your environment and with the shadows of the ones that were gone already.

And one day he decided to show himself. Looking like the nun he chose to torment the others with but a little.. softer, a little bit more disarming. With features that he guessed would invoke trust from humans.

When he approached you, you felt someone looking at you without hearing a single step. When you turned around, you were met with green eyes and looked up to a tall nun. There was something strangely.. intense about her, yet you had a feeling like you could feel safe despite of that.

"How do you like it here so far?" How long has it been since he had used words of the human world..

"I like it a lot. I've been treated very well here, the only thing that worries me is the wellbeing of Father Burke. He had horrifying things happening to him."

Valak suppressed a smile, yes he did indeed. "I see."

He continued on talking to you, spying on what it was that a nun like you was thinking by conversing with you.

"Have you been taught about demons, Sister Y/n?"

This question.. had something off-putting, as if you felt like despite her calm and cool expression she was very interested in whatever you might say next.

"Of course, Sister Val." You fumbled with your hands, "Although none of my fellow sisters ever seemed to really take matters of evil very seriously." They concentrated so much on the good that they didn't seem to take the bad forces in the world seriously. They felt too secure.

Valak knew how easily everyone wanted to forget what was waiting outside of their churches, their holy little homes that they felt so safe in. "And what do you think of them?"

You looked up into the green eyes of the tall woman, frowning at that question. No one ever asked about.. an opinion of these things, because it was taught that everything unholy like the creatures of hell were bad and there was no other way to see them.

"The forces of god as well as those of evil are constantly opposing each other. They are bad, they are destructive and against every living being." Your gaze dropped, "But.. I think that is part of the balance, the way it naturally has to be. Of course we have to fight evil, but I don't think just like evil neither does good is supposed to win. And therefore demons are.. just like us," you looked up again and smiled shyly, "something like soldiers?"

Valak stared at you without saying a word.

Just like them?! No, no you were just a mortal, just a flesh puppet. He was above the pity skills of gods creation! There was no way you were alike.

How strange it was to be thinking that while he literally looked like one of them, using the human tongue to communicate and observing this woman instead of following the unholy urges of destruction that were given to his very existence.

And suddenly, you were pressed against the wall, held high up by the nun who's expression now cruelly turned into something demonic. You gasped, unable to look away as he growled darkly at you. He was done playing, he should just snap your neck right there.

But.. he didn't- he couldn't! The demon growled in frustration, harshly pressing you against the wall even more before suddenly letting you go.

"Your foolish beliefs will not earn his favor, little one. You should go back to blindly being his devoted sheep."

You hurried to stand up again, leaning against the wall for stability after your fall with rapid breathing. The green eyes now begun to glow, almost like gold, and Valak loomed over you.

"Leave, leave and send someone as blind as the others, you are not amusing anymore."

You begun to run, candles lit along your way and blew out after you passed. You looked back as you sprinted through the stone corridor and saw the outline of a horned figure watching you go.

You were carrying a forbidden truth with you, something that he did not wish to defy. He wanted you to live, he wanted this truth to blossom within you. Maybe it would corrupt you.. but maybe it would make you even surpass all the others.

Valak would find a way to cross paths with you again.

- - -

I hope you liked it! If you are offended by the religious stuff please know that this is based off a movie and what is written in here is fiction and not a reflection of my actual beliefs so pls don't rage in my comments

[cinnamonest]

Y’all are too nice to me I swear… here I am being horny and nasty on main and I’m getting encouraged, damn. But for real  ( ´ ω ` ) thank you so much!!

I’m gaining more confidence to post more smutty stuff and the kind of dark shit I like, so I might go back and make more nasty Childe content later on too… After Albedo, I got Razor and Zhongli coming up, and a few ones I just worked on for fun. But yeah, just in case it wasn’t clear for anyone who followed me, I’m going to be writing almost entirely dark content and some really nasty stuff, so just be aware of that, and don’t consume my writing if that’s something that may be harmful to you.

Albedo is so pretty… and such good dark content material… He treats you like a science experiment but has the audacity to make it hot smh

I haven’t seen a whole lot of him outside the cutscenes, so potentially ooc (as if yandere content isn’t already ooc, lmao)

Albedo - Yandere Profile

tw: general yandere content, obsessive behavior, stalking

tw (below cut): smut, noncon (seriously, you’ve been warned)

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

Very much aware. In the beginning, it frustrates him. He’s never been particularly attached to anyone, outside of his former instructor. He’s always enjoyed being out on his own, spending extended amounts of time by himself – the desire to be around someone is a foreign feeling for him. He immediately notices how bizarre the emotion is for him, how it changes his behaviors. His self awareness combined with perceptiveness makes him able to acutely recognize not only how unusual this emotion is for him, but also how the extent of his feelings, the types of desires they ignite in him, is unusual even for “normal” people who aren’t social recluses.

He’s frustrated by his own actions, feels embarrassed at how attached he is to you, how easily you make him flustered and trip over his words. As he is a very aware yandere, he’s definitely afraid of rejection to some degree. He has no idea how to navigate feelings and interactions with other people, he’s never really had the desire to form a particularly strong bond with anyone before. As such, he’ll come across as very awkward, and he will interact with you less than most yanderes – he knows he’s just going to embarrass himself if he talks to you, right? He’ll just mess up and say something strange, so instead, he opts to watch you from the shadows, go to places where you are, but keep a distance from you, just being able to watch you makes him feel fluttery and overwhelmed. 

He will definitely be one to collect things from you. He collects plenty of things for the sake of science, this is no different. Or so he tries to tell himself, but he can’t delude himself even if he tries. He knows its weird, he knows its wrong, but the overwhelming urge to have things of yours is too great to resist. He’ll start off with more innocent things, but it will gradually progress to not-so-innocent… items of yours.

It may not be obvious, but he’s actually a fairly sensitive person, at least regarding you. He places a lot of value in what you think of him, and wants to ensure you’ll respond positively to him. He views it like a science – there should be some formula by which he can put in the correct actions, and produce a specific result. Unfortunately, unlike real science, there’s not much room for trial and error – he feels he only has once chance.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

It will take some time, as he’s got to get over his own nerves first. He’s torn between the fear of you hating him for such a thing, it would be the end of the world for him, but also the desire to pull you away from the world, to keep you hidden from others, to have you all to himself, to be the only person that gets to look at you. If you start showing positive signs, reacting positively to his gifts, expressing interest in conversation with him and going out of your way to see him, he’ll start to get more confident, think that he can afford to do something that might sour your opinion of him, hoping it will merely be temporary.

He’ll probably start to do so several times and back out. He’ll set out at night, make it all the way to your room and stand over your sleeping form, and he’ll start to worry, wonder if someone saw him, see holes in his plans, he gets too nervous and bolts. He’ll persuade you into being alone with him, and although its the chance he’s looking for, again, he’ll get nervous, worry about being caught, run through all the what-ifs, and miss the chance. Honestly, when he does finally take you, it will probably be not planned, but in the heat of the moment, a rash decision from desperation. Something like you coming to visit him to tell him you’re leaving the area, came to say goodbye, and he’ll panic, ultimately grabbing you by the arm as you try to leave and dragging you back inside, silently, but forcefully.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

Moderately difficult. Your best bet is to take advantage of his tendency to be absent minded when he’s absorbed in his work. He gets very lost in his thoughts, to a point where he’ll completely zone out and be oblivious to the world around him. On the downside, this means you won’t have much time to cover distance, he’ll be close behind the moment he realizes you’re gone.

The route he’ll probably take is actually one where you won’t need to be too restrained, because you’ll be taking… a little research trip. Out to the most freezing, desolate areas of the mountains. He’s convinced the knights he needs to stay there for his research, but in reality, he’s internally panicking, as he tries to figure out how to make this work – after all, you two can’t stay here forever. You’d be foolish to run out of the little cabin he’s bought, out into the perilous freezing cold and jagged, high slopes. At first, he thinks there’s no way you’d try it, so he’s content letting you have free reign to walk around as you please. If he has to leave for whatever reason, he’ll probably lock you into a single room, but he won’t chain you up, as again, he's really trying to avoid making you hate him.

If you prove to be determined to leave, he’ll be hurt, but mostly concerned for you. He’s actually not one to get too mad over an escape attempt – he’ll blame himself, or theorize it’s just a natural response your brain triggered. Against his first choice, he’ll end up having to get more strict with your restraints. If you get too whiny, though… you might trigger one of his more frustrated moments.

“I didn’t want to have to do this… I’m sorry. I can’t risk anything bad happening to you. Tell me if it’s too tight… I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t blame you. I know you’re probably panicking over all this, but you’ll get adjusted to it, I promise. Just… just give it some time… it’s not so bad, living with me, I promise.”

“Don’t be like that. You’re only tied up because you tried to leave. You should understand why you have to be kept like this… If you don’t want to be restrained, you shouldn’t have run out, trying to get yourself killed.”

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

For all his academic intelligence, he’s not highly skilled with people and socialization. He’s not too good at being able to tell when he’s being lied to, and he definitely won’t pick up on subtle manipulation. It’ll be pretty easy to wrap him around your finger, he’ll do what he can to make you happy.

Once he finds out you’ve lied to him, though, he’ll get pretty upset. He likely won’t trust you again, and will require proof of anything you say, or set out to find out if you’re telling him the truth or not.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He’ll try to accommodate you, giving you things you ask for, but he has limits. He’s too paranoid to let you have any contact with the outside world. You do have him wrapped around your finger to an extent, though. Whatever he’s doing at the moment, he’ll drop it in a heartbeat if you want to spend time with him in any way, even if its just you asking for food or to take a walk. He’ll be willing to take you for very short trips outside, no further than a few yards from the lodging, if only because he knows sunlight is vital to your health.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

The basics will be there – don’t try to leave, don’t be difficult with him, try to cooperate, be obedient. However, he’s also particularly overprotective of anything that can hurt you – even yourself. Under no circumstances can you handle anything that can hurt you – that means no cooking, no knives, no lifting anything heavy, no going outside without him. If you’re determined to cook something, he’ll have to stand right behind you, and watch while you do it. If you get so much as a little cut or burn, he’ll take over, insisting you go sit down after he tends to your “wounds.”

At the very beginning, he’ll be hesitant to punish you too much, as part of his plan to get you to like him. However, he can be a little easily frustrated, and your safety and well-being comes first, even if it means he has to make you upset. He will have to restrain you, take away what little privileges you had. If you try to bolt while you’re outside, no more going outside. If you try something foolish like attacking him with a knife when he gives you cooking privileges, you will lose said privileges. Really, the worst part of it all is the humiliation, being treated like a dumb, incapable baby that can’t do anything for yourself. He insists on doing everything for you, even down to bathing you and dressing you, even feeding you if you can’t convince him to take restraints off your hands. He’ll talk down to you in that way, too, talking to you as if you were a child.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

It’s a situation he’s not prepared to handle, and he’s unsure of what to do. It strikes fear in him that you might have someone else interested, so he has to get rid of them as quickly as possible. He’s not opposed to killing, if it comes down to that, but initially, he’ll try to work behind the scenes – expose something that will ruin their reputation, get them accused of a crime. This would also be one of the possible aforementioned situations that might cause him to kidnap you a bit earlier than he normally would, as well. If he can’t get rid of them easily, he’ll just take you away from them.

He will absolutely try to make you hate them, try to ruin your image of them, and he’s rather good at falsifying evidence for his claims of their behavior. With his alchemic skills, that sort of thing is easily possible.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

He gets more frustrated than anything, when you’re being difficult. This is mostly just him sighing quite a bit, speaking a bit harshly, even pouting and sulking a bit if you’ve offended him. But true anger in him is not pretty, and almost never happens. It’s a buildup, a slow rise that has a boiling point. If he reaches that point, he can definitely get mad enough to hurt you, it’s actually kind of terrifying in how sharp of a contrast it is to how he normally is. It’s a side of him that’s very difficult to draw out. He’s not one to yell or shout, no, his anger is a suffocating silence, he slams down whatever he’s holding as he stomps over to you, grabbing you by the arms hard enough to bruise, and dragging you by the hair to whatever he has planned.

With mild frustration outbursts, he will feel justified, but if it reaches that intense anger, he’ll usually give at least a little apology, tell you he didn’t mean to go that far. He hates to think of you fearing him, but ultimately, if that’s what’s necessary to keep you safe, then he can live with it.

Do they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

It’s an odd mix. On one hand, he sees you as utterly fascinating, the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, more than any landscape or art he’s seen or made, an invaluable treasure to be kept on a high pedestal. Simultaneously, however, he will treat you like a child, thinks you can’t do anything for yourself. It’s a bizarre duality, but one he is consistent on. You’re precious, so very precious, and he’s undeserving of you, but at the same time, you need him to be safe and sound.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

Of the genshin boys, he’s one of the most determined. He’s not good with people, and he doesn’t really have anyone particularly close to him left anymore. He tends to keep people at a distance. You sort of fill an space inside him that he never knew was empty, a void he wasn’t aware he had until it was consumed by thoughts of you. He doesn’t need anyone or anything else, so long as he has you with him, but he really, really wants it to be true that you love him. He doesn’t need you to even love him as much as he loves you – he doesn’t even know if that’s possible – but he just wants to know that, even if only in the slightest, his feelings are returned. He’s so distant from everyone else, but you wormed your way into his heart, even if you didn’t intend to, with your smiles and softness and kindness towards him. For the first time, he feels weak around someone, but in a way, it’s a good feeling. He wants to be able to be vulnerable, be weak, and not have anything to fear by doing so.

He’s lucid, though, so he doesn’t expect you to love him immediately. As he’s not good with words or displays of affection, he’ll get you all sorts of gifts. Rare items that you wonder how the hell he obtained them, beautifully crafted little trinkets from all his searching and time traveling, more clothes than you could ever wear. You’ll start to feel a little guilty, it’s so much, and you’re certain he doesn’t have that much money. He’ll blow it off, say it’s no big deal, but if you insist, he’ll have to start finding new ways to convey his affection. In captivity, he won’t stop trying, but he’ll understand why you might be angry. In that case, he will utilize what he’s learned from research in books he’s read. He knows that eventually, with him being the only one you have, the only company, the only one to talk to, the only source of touch, you’ll eventually have to cave. You’ll become attached to him, bond with him, whether you like it or not. He knows how powerful the affect of touch can be, and will make sure to hold you in his arms, keep you on his lap, make you crave the only source of human touch you can get. Dependency, he thinks, is the gateway to you loving him.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Drawings. So many of them. Much like his drawings he uses in notes, he’s found he tends to start scribbling a familiar face when his mind drifts off. He’s memorized every little detail of your face, every curve on your body. If you’re ever snooping around, you’ll eventually uncover a book of sketches he has solely dedicated to drawings of you. Drawings of you laughing, smiling, sleeping, drawings that you’re certain were of real events you were at, that you didn’t remember him being at. Every bit in perfect detail. If you confront him about it, he’ll be horrifically embarrassed, insisting they’re no good, or, if you’re upset, trying to reassure you it was all from his mind and totally not him lurking in the shadows as he watches you.

Also, if you want to make him happy, get him on one of his spiels about his work, his interests, anything that he can catch onto and go on and on about. He’ll catch himself rambling and apologize for being “annoying,” but if you reassure him, and express interest, that will make him feel particularly appreciated. It would be a primary way to get on his good side and manipulate him, or lull him into false security to make your escape, if that’s what you’re looking to do. But be warned, it will only work once, and he’ll be far too hurt to let himself indulge in sharing these things with you again.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

Publicly, definitely highly reserved. He’s easily flustered, and thinks of sex in a very scientific way, for the purpose of procreation. For fun? He knows it’s enjoyable, but can’t separate it from his very analytic, scientific way of viewing things. It’s a formula, you touch this here and pull that there, and the result is supposed to be orgasmic bliss. He just isn’t very familiar with pleasure – he doesn’t drag out masturbation, even, as that would be a waste of time. He gets it over with quickly, taking short breaks during his work. He is a fairly high drive, though, and gets the urge fairly frequently, about once or twice a day.

He’ll be hornier with your presence, having to leave more frequently to get off to the little things you do, quickly getting himself off while recalling the mental image of you holding a pen in your mouth, the little moan when you stretch, the way your clothes fit to your frame.

Prior to abduction, he’s not particularly touchy at all, in fact, he’s very jumpy if you touch him. Once he’s gotten you alone with him for the foreseeable future, isolated, dependent, he’ll gain more confidence, be willing to give into his cravings to touch you, hold you, eventually progressing to groping you, moving his hands up and down your body, under your clothes, slowly peeling them off.

He’s initially a bit ashamed of his urges towards you, feels guilty every time he gets off to you, but will likewise gain more confidence once you're his.

A guy can only fight off the urge for so long before he cracks, before he can’t continue to care about the consequences. For him, that point is when he knows he finally has you all to himself – his worries fade, and while the guilt is still there, it’s far outweighed by desire.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

He does care, but as stated previously, it’s hard to fight the urge for so long. It will be torture, but for the first few days, he wants you to “adjust” to your new “home,” and not add to your panic. After that, though, he’ll try to assess your reactions. If you’re extremely resistant, he’ll give you more “adjustment” time. He can’t really hold off forever, though, and eventually, maybe a few weeks in, comes to the conclusion that if he just does what he wants, so long as he’s gentle and reminds you he loves you, it will help you get past the mental barrier in your mind. He’s convinced there’s simply a psychological issue, and that sometimes, people need a push. It’s like having a friend who can’t swim – sometimes, you just have to throw them into the water, help them get over that mental hurdle, and they’ll be grateful in the end. That’s what he tells himself to justify it, anyway. He has enough… anatomical prerequisite knowledge to know what’s good and what’s bad, and will take your body’s positive reactions as a sign of what you really want. Is definitely the kind to use that against you, holding up his fingers to your face after you cum on them, as if to prove a point.

“See? I told you, you just have to let go and give in to what you want… if you didn’t, my fingers wouldn’t be dripping like this, now would they?”

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

He wants to experiment on you. This manifests as him being something of a service top without really intending to be, even if you’re not exactly happy about it. He likes to watch your reactions, watch the way your body moves, test the pleasure you get from different things, discover what it is that you like, even if you weren’t aware of it. In particular, he’s fascinated by the fact that girls have so many types of orgasms. He’ll want to try them all, watch and see which ones are more intense than others, which ones make you convulse, makes your toes curl, your eyes roll back. Which erogenous zones make your breath hitch, make you twitch and whimper. Probably the type to be determined that he can make you cum just from something like sucking on your nipples, and he won’t stop until he achieves it. He’ll also want to try everything. At least anything that he thinks has some potential to appeal to him, mentally. He’s a busy man and hasn’t really taken the time to explore his own sexuality, and has virtually zero experience.

Edging, overstimulation, forced orgasms

Experimentation also means testing limits and thresholds. He’ll bring you up to the edge, learn to watch for the slightest of signs that you’re close, listen to your breath, watch your face, wait until you’re just so close and then draw back, stopping just short of letting you catch that high. Then he’ll let you drift back down, and bring you back up again. No amount of begging will make him show you any mercy, you’ll only cum when he’s decided he’s observed enough. He wants to push the limit, see just how close to the edge of orgasm you can get without spilling over, just how much it takes to drive you insane. He’ll also want to see how far you can go after it as well. Orgasm won’t be the end of his ministrations, no, he wants to see how much stimulation you can take. You won’t be able to get away from his tongue, he’ll grab you by the hips and slam you back down, continuing to lap at you even if you’re so sensitive it’s painful. Watching you cum will just make him rut into you harder, bruising and abusing your insides to a point that they’re so sore you can feel it long after it’s over. At first, he might feel a little guilty, and may very well after it’s over, but in the heat of the moment, he can’t fight the insatiable urge to listen to you squeal, feel you convulse, watch the tears from overwhelming pleasure run down your face.

He’ll make it his personal mission to see how many orgasms the female body is capable of within a given amount of time - per day, per hour, how quickly you can have them in succession. For scientific purposes, of course. Anatomy and human biology isn’t really his main field of focus, but he likes to expand his research horizons.

“Just one more… cum one more time for me, then we’ll be done. Come on… I know you can, just one more.”

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

He’s actually good with children, usually. He has a calming effect on kids. He isn’t sure how he feels, though. To some degree, he fears his capabilities to parent, thinks he would be too cold to be a good father. But he also likes the idea of a protege, an heir to his title, one he can teach everything he knows. If he does end up having one, this fucking nerd man will read every book on pregnancy, birthing, and parenting that he can get his hands on.

Also, he’ll absolutely be one to track your cycles, even better than you can. He’s researched enough to know exactly when you’re most or least likely to get pregnant, and you can’t help but notice how much more he seems to cum in you when you’re at your most fertile. Nor can he deny how satisfying it is to watch his cum slowly drip out of you, watching you twitch with aftershock and slowly drift off in exhaustion.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

Unfortunately for you, since overstimulation and edging are already normal and everyday for you, he’ll have to amp it up a bit if he’s trying to make you regret something. He might get rougher, abusing more pleasure spots on your body, keeping his hands, mouth, and cock occupied all at once with driving you over the edge until it’s painful. But if you’re exceptionally misbehaved, you might not ever get a release to his edging, instead left to suffer from being so close, tied up so you can’t finish yourself off.

In moments when he’s really, truly angry, the peak of it, and that blends with arousal, he’ll really, really throatfuck you. Grabbing the back of your head and shoving his cock down as deep as he can, holding you there as you gag and choke, feeling your throat convulse around him, desperately trying to pull back for air. The movements are harsh and brutal, pulling harshly on your hair, moving at a pace so fast you barely have a second to breathe. Thankfully, when it gets like that, he won’t last long, emptying out into your throat, holding your jaw shut and demanding you swallow. If any spills off on your chin, he’ll gather it up on his fingers, hold it to your face, and command you to open your mouth, suck it off, and swallow again. That’s at the peak of his anger, though, and you’ll have to substantially piss him off to reach that point. He’ll apologize later, holding you close, but his guilt doesn’t change the fact that it’s one of the most intense orgasms that he’ll have, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t sometimes think of doing it again, even without provocation. He’s restrained enough not to, but the thought is there… and deep down, he’ll entertain the idea.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

The curves of your body, no matter how defined or faint they are, no matter the general shape of your body, to him it’s the most beautiful thing. He’ll definitely want to draw you, even if you’re not too keen on posing. He’ll run his hands up and down your body, squeezing every little bit of flesh he can, moving his palms over every little curve, every inch of your skin.

[yandere-sins]

hiya! i see that requests are open :] i was wondering.. if you haven’t written this already, can you write what would shigaraki’s reaction would be to his darling willingly giving him affection? maybe it was completely out of the blue or he got injured and his darling was worried, etc!!

thank you!! 🥰🤍💕

Thanks for requesting!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««    

In no one plans does it ever say to get beaten up.

But no matter how disgusting the blood on his tongue tasted, no matter how little he could see through the bruised eye, there were days like these where plans didn’t work out the way anyone wanted them to. No one said anything as the League of Villains retreated to their hideout, some limping, some holding their heads in pain. A few of them sighed as they passed their leader. Others clicked their tongues in disapproval, moral lower than any of them ever felt before - that meant rock bottom.

Everything had been going so well for so long, Shigaraki foolishly had already forgotten the feeling of losing. He was strong, resistant, and in good company, and yet, maybe his concentration had been off, his perception slow, or maybe it simply was a bad day. Still, no matter how he tried to justify the bitterness of failing, in the end, he could only bite his chapped lip in frustration.

It took him longer to unlock all the locks and bolts on the door to his room on that day. Everything ached when he lifted a finger and using both hands almost felt like tearing himself apart. It definitely had been too long that he experienced a real beating like this, making him painfully aware of every muscle and every bone in his body again. But even more so, knowing that this was a setback in his plans was even more bothersome than all the pains combined.

Still, Shigaraki decided he’d deal with the consequences and further planning the next day. There was no nerve left in his brain to keep grinding the loss over and over again, analyzing it, and plan out improvements. Nothing good could come out of his frustration, he realized, as he almost disintegrated the costly, sturdy locks of the door. But catching himself at the last second, Shigaraki reminded himself of their trustworthy duty of keeping what was behind the entrance exactly where it was and that it would be a waste to lose them too.

Even though you must have heard the door open and fall into its lock again behind him, you weren’t immediately apparent in the dark room. Shigaraki grumbled a sullen, “... back,” looking around once more, trying to make you out as he set aside the few hands spared from the fight. But heaving a deep sigh, he realized you must have been hiding or locked yourself in the bathroom, shying away from his presence as always. If t wasn’t him dragging you out for his own sick pleasure of being with you, you were the last person he thought to be willing to come to him.

And for once, he didn’t have the strength to pull you out of whatever orifice you had crawled into.

Letting himself flop onto the couch he had brought in just for you, Shigaraki let out a long groan. The cold leather felt good on the bruises on his face, even though it told him you hadn’t used the couch in a while. He didn’t like that even though he tried to make it homely for you after all your complaints, you didn’t take advantage of the amenities he provided, but Shigaraki felt too exhausted to get upset.

Minutes passed in silence as he tried to get his mind off replaying the lost battle over and over. It was so unfair, so cruel that the brilliant plan failed to retrieve the items he wanted. Still, even if he calculated disturbances because of heroes, he didn’t think they’d sent an army of them to stand against him. It was just so freaking frustrating, his body immediately started to itch everywhere.

Shigaraki wouldn’t have assumed for you to make a move, but he could clearly hear how uncomfortable you were as you contemplated moving out of your hiding spot. The shuffling of your clothes was louder now that there were no games on, and neither of you were talking, so he noticed you trying to get up a few times before sinking to the ground again hesitantly. He only sighed in exhaustion, wondering what he could do to make his face stop itching.

You had long ceased to be a threat to him, even if he didn’t have a brilliant achievement to boost that day either. It wasn’t like you two had come to any kind of understanding, a middle ground even. Still, he at least seemed to have earned enough respect or fear from you so you wouldn’t try anything funny when he was asleep. Perhaps he was too trusting, but it wasn’t like you weren’t scared enough of him and his quirk.

“Shigaraki...?” you whispered, testing with a tiny voice if he was sleeping already. He could hear your fingers curl into the leather, causing it to let out air loudly, which made both of you flinch - him from the headache, you from fear. Grumbling quietly about the disturbance, Shigaraki propped himself up on his forearms, looking up at where he assumed your position from beneath his unkempt hair.

“What?!” The words came out much harsher than he intended, but truth be told, he wasn’t in his right mind ever since he returned, so there wasn’t even any mercy left for you. You made a step back, the floorboards creaking under the sudden pressure, and you let go of the couch, too afraid he might snap.

“A-Are you...” you stuttered, annoyingly so. Shigaraki just wanted the world to be quiet that night. To have some peace after all the trouble. “Are you okay?”

Sighing, he plopped down into the couch again, letting his arm hang from the cushions. Of course. The only time you were actually worried about him, he was actually not okay, and he told you as much. “Not really,” he confessed, and silence fell over you two again before he heard you round the couch to stand by his side. It would have been so easy to grab you and pull you to him now, and maybe on any other day he would have, but even that seemed too exhausting to him.

“Do you need some water? Or should I go ask someone for bandages?”

With your questions so innocent, it made him snort loudly. “So you can run away?” was his counter-question. If not for the darkness in the room, he would have seen you tense up, read your body language to determine if you had planned something or if you genuinely were just worried, but Shigaraki couldn’t be bothered with the necessary actions if either of that was true.

“I was just asking,” you whispered, discouraged as he thought he heard in your voice. Your presence shifted away as you went and hid again, and it actually gave his heart a slight, additional sting when you seemed to settle somewhere. Ultimately, the silence was what he had wanted, but now that he had refused your presence for the first time ever since he took you for himself, he realized that it helped neither of you.

“If you really want to help...” he mumbled, taking a deep breath as he thought his words over, realizing they were foolish. “Come and scratch my face.”

There was nothing in response to this, only more silence, and now he truly felt stupid for even bringing it up. He could scratch himself just fine and probably better than a second person could, but really... it would have been nice if you were the one doing it. It must have only been seconds, but it felt like whole minutes passed before he heard another stir, and the warmth of your presence returned to him, slowly sitting down next to the couch. He turned to his side, waiting expectantly for you to act, hoping it would be soon as the itch grew stronger.

“It’s not good to scratch it,” you mumbled, and Shigaraki couldn’t help but click his tongue at you lecturing him. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, just scratch it!”

Until the last moment, he honestly didn’t expect you’d do as he said, and it was almost amusing that when you did reach out, you still would resist his instructions, doing as you pleased. Instead, you seemed to want to smother him between your palms, laying them over the extensive areas of his face like cheeks and forehead, constantly alternating between them. It didn’t help, the itch still remained, but he would be a liar to say he didn’t actually like it.

Your touch was much gentler than what he expected you’d use when you finally touched him. Much less pressure and more tenderness than what he was used to from being touched. It was actually, truly, really nice.

“More,” he mumbled, and you gasped loudly as he reached out his hands to grab your wrists, tugging away his pinky as to not hurt you. No matter how nice it was to feel your touch, Shigaraki couldn’t help but grow needy even after all that happened that day. Perhaps because of what happened that day, he couldn’t help but want more and more of the comfort of your touch, ultimately pressing your hands so tightly against his skin, the bruises began to ache. But it didn’t matter. It all didn’t matter because it was your touch, and even if you tensed up, you didn’t pull away. You were so warm, and your so skin soft, so even if it hurt, it hurt good; just right. It made him feel alive even.

It was exactly what he needed after this long day.

“Do this more often,” he mumbled, dragging your hands from the top of his head down to his lips and start again. “Touch me more...”

You could have scratched him right then and there, plucked out his eyes for all he cared, and ripped off his skin, but your touch, combined with the warm, jittery pulse he felt in your wrists, gave him an unknown satisfaction, one he’d have liked to experience regularly.

“Don’t stop...”

His voice was shaky - needy and greedy at the same time. He rubbed his own face with your hands over and over, which felt almost as good as scratching but hurt like hell at the same time. Yet, he wished these feelings would never stop, so he could enjoy them infinitely. Screw plans and the future if only he could have your touch all over him until the end of time. So even if it didn’t resemble the way you touched him before, Shigaraki couldn’t get enough of your hands, only ever wanting more.

Was it truly too much to ask for? Shigaraki wondered as his grip loosened on you. You yelped as he accidentally lost control over his pinky while drifting off to sleep, giving you a second of stinging pain before you tore yourself from him trying to deal with coming into contact with his quirk. Only a satisfied smile was able to cross his lips before he was overtaken by exhaustion, hoping that this was reminder enough to not try anything funny while he slept. But honestly, as happy as he was now, he would have even enjoyed having your hands around his throat. It didn’t matter where, as long as you never stopped making him happy with your touch.

And god, was he happy he fucked up his plan that day.

[kassandras-one-braincell]

Abby Anderson x GN!Reader - Please Don’t Leave Me

Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt: Please Don’t Leave Me (I’m creative with my titles)

Can be found on AO3 here.

Setting: before Abby leaves to go golfing. Abby and the reader are in an established relationship.

Warning: angst angst angst, excessive usage of the f-bomb and discussions of murder.

(Y/N) replacer safe.

Word count: 1846

Fuck, she’s really doing this.

Every day since Isaac had granted the Salt Lake Crew leave to hunt down Joel Miller, you tried to bargain with Abby, tried to make her see some sense. That killing him won’t take away any of the pain she feels. The grief. The gaping hole in her heart. But she’d always brush you off, distancing herself from you, suppressing her emotions with bicep curls and crunches as per habit.

Each passing hour, a nail was hammered into the coffin of the woman you love. And this morning is the final nail.

The quaint apartment you call home is filled with a cacophony of rustling and pleas as Abby shovels supplies into her backpack, preparing for her hunt. In her mind, Joel’s death warrant is signed, the execution nigh. And God are you desperate, trying to drill some semblance of reality into her stubborn mind one last time before she embarks on a journey she’ll only regret.

“Abby, please just listen to me for one minute—”

“I need to do this.” She heads to your small shared closet, refusing to look at you from your position by the bed. You frantically try to intercept her path, knowing full well she’s much, much stronger and can reposition you with ease. But it’s worth a try.

“This isn’t going to solve anything,” you implore, clutching the wood.

“Move, (Y/N).”

“Abby, this isn’t going to bring him back. You know that.”

“Move.” Her tone is exasperated, utterly focused on packing her shit and promptly leaving. Your heart sinks to your stomach.

“That girl in the hospital. The immune one. She must have been like a daughter to him for Joel to kill a group of innocent people for her,” you plead, feet firmly planted on the floor. Searching for her eyes, those blue irises alight with a maelstrom of hateful determination. They meet yours. “Killing him will just put her through all of this.”

Abby reaches for the closet door and slowly pulls it open, acknowledging your reluctance to move, deciding to disregard it. The wood begins to dig into your back and you’re forced to step aside. “This isn’t going to end, Abby. You fucking know this.” As she folds some spare clothes and places them in her backpack, you fall gracelessly to the bed, needing to sit down. Bile climbs up your oesophagus. Shit, where was her sense of fucking empathy?

“Abby…” Once again, she doesn’t so much as spare you a glance, folding the garments in robotic fashion. “Abby, you said she was a kid. A kid.”

The final shirt is stuffed haphazardly into the bag. She grits her teeth and turns to you. “He killed dozens of Fireflies, (Y/N). Dozens. And that’s all we fucking know of. There could be hundreds of others because he’s a stone cold killer.” Her face flushes with anger, no remnants of the woman you know left behind. “No one person is worth that many fucking lives.”

You let out a breathy laugh in sheer disbelief. “But it’s not about them, is it? Not to you.” The words escaped you in a hiss, one that didn’t go unnoticed. “Never fuckin’ has been.”

Abby rolls her eyes and grabs her maps from the coffee table, iron fist crumpling the papers beyond legibility. “There could have been a cure. A fucking cure to all this.”

On the surface, her words are rational. One life for a cure that would save millions was a worthy sacrifice, that you would be foolish to deny. But the odds of developing this cure were slim, and the girl would have likely died in vain. You knew this. Abby knew this. Jerry knew this.

With a shaky breath, you cradle your arms, never before having felt the urge to cage yourself around Abby. Fingers firmly gripping at your elbows, you let the cards fold. Unadulterated truth.

“You’re in denial, Abigail.”

A tut. “Don’t you fucking ‘Abigail’ me.” Her previous efforts to maintain a steady tone have been vanquished, anger seeping into each progressing word.

She’s gone.

And it’s this precise revelation that fills your eyes with oceans. Throat closing up, nose burning with the urge to spill over, you attempt – attempt – to articulate yourself, to no avail. Seconds later, rivulets trickle from your eyes to your cheeks, and you find yourself sniffling like some stupid kid… No, not a kid. A grieving adult, bereaved by the loss of a lover. Because the other figure in the room is but a husk of the radiant soul you fell for.

“All…” You pause to inhale, deeply: a futile effort to regulate your breathing, to lay rest to the turmoil suffocating your ability to fucking think. “All that’s going to happen is… You’re going to have to—” Hiccupping, you close your eyes, praying no more tears would fall. “To live with the guilt of orphaning a kid.”

Sentence finally out, you surrender to your sorrows, allowing them to wrack your chest with sobs and heaves until it gets too much, salt freely spilling from the floodgates. You can’t…you won’t bring yourself to look at Abby – the machine in her place, one programmed to kill and kill alone.

It’s wholly terrifying.

Distress flickers in her eyes, her frown slackening for a fraction of a second at the sound of your despair. “No one is forcing you to come,” she puts plainly, as if that has anything to do with the issue at hand.

“You know this – isn’t about that. Fuck, even Owen knows this…this is a bad idea.” Too dejected to cry. Too dejected to battle the hitched breaths you take trying to force out the words.

Words that fall upon deaf ears. “That’s not what Owen told me.” She slots a Swiss army knife into her cargo pants’ pocket, headed with a canteen in hand towards the kitchenette. “He was there, (Y/N). He agreed that Joel needs to die.”

“Because he’s fucking scared of you!” We all are, nearly breaks free from your lips, but that’s not what Abby needs to hear right now. Nothing that will push her away. Further away. The reigns you have on your lover are fraying, leaving you grasping at nought but strings. Frenzied, you attempt a softer, less concrete approach. “Baby, it isn’t normal to be so…hellbent on revenge like this.”

Silence. The delicate trickle of water sounds from the faucet as Abby fills her canteen. Then, a sigh, one of frustration as opposed to defeat. “If you think calling me ‘baby’ is going to erase four motherfucking years of grief, you are sorely mistaken. You’re smarter than that.”

Patience thinning, you stand up, wading through strewn supplies across the apartment floor towards the kitchenette. “Four years and you still haven’t given yourself time to mourn properly,” you reason, deliberately obstructing her path out of the kitchen with your body again. “Maybe if you had you’d see some fucking sense.”

God, that was a mistake. Shit, shit, shit shit shit the last thing you want to do is piss her off, not with her mind in such a volatile state, devoid of all logic.

“I appreciate you’ve lived a fucking sheltered life since the outbreak,” she seethed. What?

“That’s not true—”

“And you have no fucking idea what it’s like to have someone ripped away from you like that.” Volume rising, words a mantra fuelled by detest. “And you know, maybe, just fucking maybe, this’ll be my one chance to put an end to this shit!” The fist not clutching her backpack clenches. And for the first time ever while alone in her company, you flinch.

“He fucking deserves this, (Y/N)! If I can show him a fraction of the pain he caused me—”

“Abby, you’re scaring me,” you whimper, closing in on yourself. Genuinely afraid she’d raise her hand towards you.

Had you a mirror, you’d know truly how perturbed you look in this very moment. Streamlines drying on your cheeks, eyes reddening and puffy from crying, wide with fear like a doe face-to-face with a moving car. Body subconsciously making itself smaller, reducing its surface area, reducing the likelihood for any incoming swings to hit.

She lowers her guard, colour returning to her knuckles as she unravelled her fist. Knitted brows returning to their natural place above her eyes, mouth parted as the horror of her behaviour settles in.

“You know I would never hurt you, right?” Even her previously stern voice cracks at this.

It takes tremendous willpower to not fall back as she takes a tentative step towards you.

Drying your eyes with your sleeves – her sleeves…you forgot you’re wearing her old sweater, the notion sour on your tongue – you break your mutual gaze. “You’re not you right now,” you whisper, not trusting your larynx to produce anything above a mouse’s squeak. “This isn’t the Abby I know.”

For the first time this morning, a sentiment other than bloodlust registers in her face. Hurt.

Either unable or unwilling to respond, Abby recommences her packing in solemn silence.

Shit, you have three, perchance five minutes at best to dissuade your girlfriend from leaving and doing something that will haunt her for all eternity. Yet all you can do is brace yourself against the wall and allow a second tsunami of tears to wash over you, pangs of anguish striking your heart. “Abby—”

“I’m going, (Y/N).” Firm, with a shred less conviction, but firm enough.

A violent sob tears through you as you beg, beg, the vessel of the woman you adore, “Please don’t leave me.”

For a fleeting moment, your heart stops as she hesitates in her tracks. A flicker of hope seizes your mind, that perhaps she has reconsidered, that finally some logic has entered her train of thought.

It all crashes down when she reaches for the spare rifle ammunition by the front door.

“Fuck, Abby—”

“I’ll be gone a month at most.”

Hail-Mary.

Hail-Mary.

Please.

Chest shuddering with each sob that wracks through you, you utter through violently trembling lips and hiccups, “You’re so – fucking blinded – by your hatred – right now – that you can’t – fuck, see – this will – kill you—”

The gravity of the situation threatens to make your knees buckle.

Abby plucks her jacket from the coat hanger and wades over to your crippled stance by the kitchen. A hand brushes your salt-slicked cheek as a lock of hair is swept out of your line of sight. “I love you,” she whispers in pained honesty.

“Abby…” You try to take her hand, to ground her, to remind her of the life she’s leaving behind on her relentless pursuit of this warped sense of justice.

“Goodbye, (Y/N).” She squeezes your palm and lets go, zipping up her pack as the front door to the apartment creaks open and slams shut.

Death is a word that isn’t used lightly, especially not after an epidemic takes the world by storm. But part of your spirit certainly died the moment that door closed behind her.

(I’ll leave it up to you whether she has a change of heart or leaves and scores a few hits above par.)

[cheekygreenty]

I Know You - The Darkling x Reader

I was listening to Skylar Grey's song 'I Know You' on the bus home from college and got inspired, enjoy!

You couldn't believe it. You swore you knew him better than yourself. You could always predict his next move: his words, his actions. But this, it wasn't your Aleksander. You didn't want to believe Alina's hurried words as they left her lips but you had that horrid feeling in the pit of your stomach that told you she was right, or else she wouldn't be causing so much trouble for herself.

'He wants to expand the fold he created....he IS the black heretic.'

The truth made you sick yet you still found yourself wanting, foolishly hoping it was all a misunderstanding. You felt blind-sighted and stupid. The man you loved and the man who claimed to love you had blood on his hands, saints, it was up to his neck.

The reality of the situation rested on you like an unbearable weight, you had to choose a side. It was obvious though, wasn't it? No. Your heart was still with Aleksander, he was the reason for all your happiness, he was behind all of the memories that brought you comfort in times of need. Like right now.

You were very clearly in denial. You remember your talk with Alina and you cringe at your reaction. You tried to fight back, reason with her, told her she was crazy. You tried to prove you knew him but all you did was make a fool of yourself, it was then you realized he was just a stranger you shared a bed with.

You waited to confront him. He was frustrated, still in his clothes from the winter fete, as he barked orders left right and center to locate Alina and his precious stag. You knew where she was going, you helped her leave the stables with puffy eyes after your brief encounter. You even helped the tracker, quickly patching his wound and telling him which way to go to avoid being killed by Baghra or the Darkling.

You stared at him as the last of his soldiers left the war room. Silence enveloped the space. You didn't have the courage to utter the words you needed to say. He was a monster. You were sure of it now, as much as it killed you.

'I know everything' You whispered, ready to fight if the situation went sideways.

He froze but said nothing so you continued.

'You made me believe I knew you. That the man in front of me was my Aleksander, gentle and loving and understanding. I don't even recognize you right now.'

He still stayed silent. Your Aleksander always had something to say, this truly was a stranger.

'The more you stay quiet, the more I lose my hope and my patience.' You wiped some tears off your face. When did you even start crying?

'You do know me. You know the parts of me that I showed you.'

He finally looked at you. He didn't seem as heartbroken as you. He looked annoyed; like you were another part of his plan that went awry.

'Don't complicate things any more than they need to be. You lied to me. You betrayed me and my trust. I look like a fool-' Your voice started to rise.

'-Does Ivan know? I'm sure he does. How do you think that makes me look? How does that make me FEEL?'

You took measured steps towards him, well aware he wouldn't hurt you. That much you hoped you knew.

'Say something General.'

'Y/N I do love you.....but-'

You scoffed and made your way to the door. You needed to leave. Whatever respect you had for him left the minute he confessed an afterthought. You stopped when you seen shadows creep in front of the door, keeping you away.

'So you're going to cage me in?'

'I'll do what I have to to make you listen.'

'You're crazy if you think that what you're going to do is ok'

'I've made it this far.'

'Aleksander, the more you talk, the more you're proving yourself to be the worst possible man I've imagined you to be. I've lost all faith in you.'

The tears stopped at this point. You were numb, it was like you hadn't processed all the information thus far.

'You don't mean that'

'Then I guess you don't know me either.' You both stared at each other. The room was completely silent. Neither of you made a move to leave the insufferable tension. You were a foolish girl. He was a manipulative man. But you still loved him.

'What are you going to do after you leave this room?' He asked and you knew why. Your heart broke. He was going to keep you prisoner, wasn't he? At least you had helped Alina leave. You tried to convince yourself that was enough to make up for defending him.

Could you fight him right now? Make an escape? You could try. You had absolutely nothing to lose. You made a decision to betray him in return.

'You might as well put me in chains now' You held out your hands.

'I don't want to'

'But you need to, I know.' He moved closer to you and cupped your face.

'For what it's worth, I'm sorry' Your eyes closed and you bit down the urge to touch him, to be held in his embrace.

'Me too.' Before he could react, you pushed him to the other side of the room with the power of the wind, ran to the bookcase, and quickly through the passage. You ran as fast as your legs could take you, creating a noise blanket so if he went after you, he wouldn't hear your heavy breaths or your loud footsteps.

You made it outside just in time for the guard change and rode out on a horse. Your kefta long forgotten in the tunnel. You had no idea where you were going. You could go up north, catch up to Alina and the tracker and help them.

And so you did. You strode through the woods, looking for signs of them, cursing the talent of the tracker to cover his tracks. But eventually, you did, thanks to Alina's little ball of light, the small thing being visible from a mile away in the dead of night. They looked exhausted even though it had only been 2 days since they left the palace. You slowly crept up on them, glad to be breaking up an intimate moment. If you couldn’t enjoy time with your other half, neither could they.

'Y/N?' She looked at you in surprise. You had been running on pure adrenaline for the majority of your journey but it was slowly fizzling out. You quickly grew tired.

'You're going to need all of the help you can get-' you sat next to them.

'-he's never going to stop.'

At that moment you realized you did know him, but you were just refusing to look at his bad side this whole time. Your optimism and love for him will be your downfall.

*I'll make a part 2 of this eventually, but don't hold your breath, it'll definitely take a while.

Part 2

[unfortunatelysage]

All Smoke and Mirrors- 5

Story description: Rico’s woven a web of deceit, and Margot’s a fly stuck in the middle of it. When the girl finds herself shrunken in a home to someone far bigger than herself, she figures she must be at odds with a giant. Rico, a definite human, takes her theory and runs with it, doing whatever it takes to pass off as a bloodthirsty monster. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?

CW: mentions of killing/eating people (nothing comes of it), fear leading to crying

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“You get about two-thirds of it to yourself,” the giant tells Margot, though she can barely process his words in her current state.

She awkwardly tries to shuffle around in his fist in an attempt to get more breathing room. He’s not crushing her, but it’s a snug grip that makes taking a deep breath quite a task.

Two-thirds? That’s surely expansive, but she’s always been one to toss and turn at night- what if he’s the same? “But what if you… roll over or something?” she asks, gaining eye contact with Rico.

His reply is as blunt as it is unreliable. “I won’t.”

He’s already threatened to hurt her. All it would take is one wrong move in his sleep to suffocate her, if not flat out crush her.

“Rolling over would be a lame way to kill you,” he tacks on, as if reading her mind. “If I didn’t trust you’d be safe, I wouldn’t do it.”

Margot’s stumped. Does he want her safe or not? She’d like to ask more, but it’s probably not worth the risk.

Rico uses his free hand to flick off the light to his room and stomps to his bed, setting her down lightly on the far end of the mattress.

His staggering form takes a seat as well, slightly creaking the internals of the bed and shifting the rest upward, elevating the human.

She feels his eyes on her, even in darkness, and backs up further away from him. To be safe, she lays down and closes her eyes to feign sleep, despite the hundreds of thoughts racing around her mind, making genuine sleep seem impossible.

He lays down himself without a word, but also silently pulls up a large portion of his blanket and sets it near her. She tries not to flinch as his hands come near her again, but he likely notices anyway.

Before long, she cracks open an eye and can make out his chest rising and falling with a slow consistency.

Opening her other eye, Margot slowly sits up, eyes never leaving the giant. With a shaky exhale, she backs up just a bit more.

He never turns over. A sigh of relief escapes the human.

Now’s not a great time to sleep, but Margot figures such a time doesn’t exist anymore. Her eyes flick up over Rico to the bedroom door, slightly ajar. Then she leans over the side of the bed. Carpeted floor. It probably wouldn’t be too hard a fall.

Temptation grips at her, almost screaming at her to go for it. But then she turns back to look at Rico.

It’s a suicide mission. She’d be foolish to try it, knowing there’d be no way to leave. Where would she even go if she did leave? Her only bet would be to hide within the house, which is already a bad idea. He said he can track her down by scent. It’s just a game of cat and mouse from there.

Besides, he hasn’t eaten once since she got there. Would it be so outlandish to assume he’s already waiting for her to act out of line so he gets a meal out of it?

In that case, how long will he go until he decides to just eat her anyway, regardless of her being on her best behavior? If it’s just in a giant’s nature to eat humans, isn’t her fate inevitable?

All the more reason to leave, she figures. But she’d probably be better off putting that off for as long as she can.

Living out the rest of her days in fear. What did she do to deserve such a condemnation? Margot twists her face in frustration, racking her brain to try and remember where she was leading up to her being here.

She knows she’d never seen Rico before being in his home- she couldn’t have been kidnapped by him, unless her memory was just that wiped.

She remembers sitting at home, reading while her brother strikes up a conversation. Dad was at work last she remembers. He’s got to be home by now, probably calling every emergency line.

Nothing pointing to how she could’ve ended up here. Maybe Rico knows. Maybe she should ask.

Maybe she’s better off staying quiet. Tears pool in her eyes, finally giving way as she silently lets them run down her face. She’s never been given the opportunity to fully cry until now, she realizes. How she didn’t break down immediately upon being seen, she may never know.

Her silent weeping is cut short by Rico, who turns from sleeping on his back to facing her, never opening his eyes. As if her breathing wasn’t staggered enough, she inhales sharply and backs away from the beast.

Even when asleep, he won’t let her cry.

She’d love nothing more than to punch him, kick him, scream at him. Everything in her power to hurt him. But it wouldn’t mean anything. It wouldn’t even scratch him. He’d just scoop her up like he has before, and she’d be gone within seconds.

It’s just not fair. He thinks he has all the power in the world over her, just because he’s a giant. The worst part of that sentiment is that he’s right.

But… her eyes flick to the blanket again. He left out a great deal of it for her. And he got her water earlier. And he trusted her be safe in bed with him. Shouldn’t she be grateful?

She would laugh at the idea, if not for how close she is to the giant. What an asinine notion. Grateful? For what? The bare minimum? Whatever that entails. If “the bare minimum” is refraining from eating her or stepping on her or whatever he really wants to do, then she doesn’t think it’s all that selfish to ask for more.

Maybe he’ll soften up. Maybe he’ll soften up. Maybe he’ll soften up. She keeps replaying the sentiment, taking it less and less seriously each time.

He might be softer than he’s willing to let on. Something is… off about him. She can’t pinpoint it yet, but she feels it in her gut.

Whether he’s actually kind under a hard exterior is irrelevant- he’s choosing to treat her like some… toy. Or pest. She can’t figure it out.

As she contemplates, she stares at the giant. A nice change of pace from the opposite. With how dark the room is, she can barely make out his shadowed facial features. His lips are barely parted. But she’s not too keen on staring at his mouth right now. Or ever.

So humanlike, it’s almost terrifying. Other than some behavioral differences, the difference between the two really boils down to size and size alone. Margot can’t decide if that helps rationalize the situation, or make it more frustrating.

She figured such evil conduct could only be found in humanity. Being given the option between kindness and hostility and choosing the latter. But she’s been wrong a lot today.

Rico shifts again, turning to his other side. Back to her. She’ll be quick to admit, it’s a lot less nerve-wracking. If he wakes up now, at least she won’t be the first thing he sees.

She silently curses him for being able to fall asleep so quickly, while she’s condemned to waking anxiety of his doing.

Maybe her best form of spite at a time like this would be to sleep anyway. The constant motion and stirring emotions are catching up to her now, and even through her thoughts, she can sense her drowsiness.

The vast expanse of blanket sits where it has all night, luring her. Teasing her. A gesture of… whatever definition of “kindness” her captor has.

As much as she’d like to ignore it, she’d be remiss to pass it up all the same. Bitterly, Margot pulls the cover over herself and rolls into it, letting it wrap around her small form. Though some fragmented anxieties still swirl around in her brain, eventually she settles into a dreamless sleep.

It feels as though only seconds had passed when she’s thrown into the air.

Eyes ripping open, Margot’s sight is illuminated as she’s airborne, desperately clinging onto the blanket as she unravels from it. As quickly as she’s lifted, she’s dropped back onto the mattress, the cover falling over her.

“Damnit, human!” A gruff and all-too-familiar voice shouts, louder than she’s ever seen him. “When I find you, you’re dead meat!” She can’t see from under the blanket, but feels Rico stomping around the room, shaking her all the same.

A thousand frantic thoughts run through the girl’s mind, all the more confusing in her half awake state. He’s looking for her? She never left! Will he still punish her when she never even acted out of line?

She wants to sort out whether she should stay or hide further, when light floods her vision again as he rips back the blanket, revealing the shaking human.

He’s absolutely furious.

“Please!” she shouts, staring back into his simmering glare. “I didn’t even try to leave! I’ve been here all night! Please, believe me!” Embarrassingly, tears start to form through her groggy pleas, growing quieter as they spill out of her. “Please, please don’t hurt me. I didn’t try to leave. Please.”

Something in the giant’s glare breaks. With a huff, he throws the blanket back on the bed, narrowly missing the human woman.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he imparts quietly, looking away. “I just couldn’t see you, and thought you tried to leave.”

Something clicks in Margot, throwing her off.

“I… I thought you could track humans by scent,” she mentions shakily. “You couldn’t smell me?”

He flashes his eyes to her again, making her shrink back. “It’s… it’s not as strong under covers. I thought it was the remnants of your scent,” he states, almost stammering.

She furrows her brown in confusion of his tone, but doesn’t press further. She’s already dealt with enough of his anger today, and she’s barely been awake five minutes.

“I’ll be right back,” Rico grumbles. “Don’t even think about leaving the bed.”

And so he stomps away, leaving a shaking, disheveled, and confused Margot to herself.