#Not really could you imagine having the skills to stop things and hearing awful things happening all the time

[backpackingspace]

Okay but like Matt's motivation makes perfect sense to me. Like if you walked past someone being hurt in someway you stop and help. Matt just hears it happening instead of seeing it. King can't help that he can hear all of new york.

[nezuscribe]

imagine a two or three years before the marriage with arranged!gojo, when you’re in your late teens and the gojo family invited some of the noble families to their summer estate near the ocean to relax there for a while.

obviously you and your family were invited (despite how much it angered your fathers wife that you too were included in the invitation), so you, along with four other prominent families, made your ways up north for the summer.

you were excited to be away for a while, even more excited that you were going to have an actual room and access to more things. you knew the kids there weren’t going to hang around you, so you tried making yourself comfortable in some of the more secluded places of the gojo estate.

it's one reason why gojo didn't really remember you a whole lot when you two were first married. sure, he knew he knew you from your family and all of those gatherings, but you were usually always in the background.

the north was truly beautiful in the summer, especially by the sea, so you couldn’t be too butthurt over their rejection when you had such views to remedy your pain.

most days you’d hide away in a corner of the library or walk around the grounds, steering clear of your sisters and all the other kids your age. you could hear their faint laughter near the lake or the way they stayed up all night around a fire near the gardens.

one of the nights when you were out on the beach, watching the waves as you read a book, you heard a hoard of voices getting closer and closer to you.

your head whipped around in confusion, heart sinking when you realized the other kids were coming here too. you could’ve sworn they said they were going to be out at town till midnight.

you quickly packed up all your things, ditching your little blanket as you scurried up the hill, trying to stay hidden in the line of trees as you watched them come nearer.

you could see your sisters laughing as some of the other girls and guys stumbled out on the sand, their heads thrown back in laughter as they all started to strip out of their usual garments and into the swim ones they had underneath.

you were about to leave when you heard somebody ask loudly about your blanket, wondering if it was any of theirs.

while still staying hidden you saw how the tallest one of the group, gojo, picked it up, surveying it and then the foot tracks in the sand that led away from it.

his eyes looks up the hill, into the trees, and to your horror, watched as he decided to follow it.

he told the rest of his group to stay there and start swimming without him, he’d just been looking for a little bit and coming back.

you had heard of his excellent tracking skills, how he’d lead the north to a steady victory when up against some other neighboring lands, which unfortunately meant he was freakishly good at tracking a girl who was awful at hiding.

you stopped breathing, crouching behind a bush as you watched him enter the forest.

he looked around, blue eyes on the ground as they looked for the footsteps, taking note of the deserted basket of cheeses and the book you had taken with yourself.

before you knew it he was near your bush, looking through they leaves when he caught your frantic eyes.

gojo stands up, confusion laced on his face as he towers over your still kneeling body.

“what...what are you doing here?” he asks bluntly, his voice cold.

you grimace, standing up as well as you scratch the back of your neck.

“well, i was reading over there,” you point out behind his back to the shore, where all the other kids had swarmed into the water, “i thought you all had left to go to the town.”

gojo’s eyes rake over you. the two of you had barely spoke a word to each other since your arrival, and this was the first time he’s really taken a good look at you.

his focused on the downward turn of your eyes, his you evaded his look. he skimmed over the slope of your nose, the slight press of your lips. there was a sort of sad look about you that he's always noticed when staring at you.

his arms cross over his chest, white brows furrowed. you felt heat rise to your cheeks, feeling meek under his heavy stare.

“we came here instead,” gojo simply says, his tone clipped.

you nod, your lips pulling into an awkward smile as you bend down to pick up your book, flicking off some of the dirt on its cover with your hands.

“i’ll head back” you murmur, picking up your basket, noticing your blanket that was still in his hands.

you decide not to care, you’ll just find another one.

“alone?” he asks incredulously, voice slightly raised as you give him a skeptical look.

this is the first time the two of you had really acknowledged each other, aside from the polite head nods and the two-word sentences. why was he questioning you so much?

"that was the plan," you tell him, your eyes squinting a little bit in confusion.

gojo knows the grounds like the back of his hand. he and his family have been coming here ever since he was a young boy. the estate is close to the shore, yes, but it's getting dark and you've only been here once. he almost wants to applaud your confidence.

"i'll go tell one of your sisters so they can accompany you back. they know the way better." he finally says, looking like he is about to turn to leave, but you scramble, tugging him back by the fabric of his loose tunic.

he looks at you in shock.

"no!" you almost hiss, a pleading look on your face, "i know the way back. don't tell them," you put your hands up as if you were surrendering, packing up all your things in a hurry as you shoot him a hasty smile, "just pretend i was never here."

gojo's apprehension isn't warded off. if anything, he's even more confused by your frenzied state.

you're finding the trail to the estate, leaving him as you keep poking around, not noticing the way he was still following you.

"your sisters wouldn't mind," he tells you, and you look over your shoulder with a raised brow.

"maybe if it was you who was asking to be led back," you say with a scoff, shoving some stray twigs and leaves from nearby trees out the way, "but they'd rather haul a sheep carcass than accompany me."

gojo blinks slowly.

when he doesn't say anything, you shoot him another confused look. what was he not getting?

"you do realize who i am...right?"

gojo rolls his eyes, pursing his lips together.

"yes...but," he kicks some pebbles away, "they don't care about...that, right?" he's hesitant to acknowledge the truth. the fact that you're only related to them by father. the reason why they don't even speak about your mother is because she's probably in a brothel somewhere far away.

you give it a second to sink in before you laugh, your head tilting back as your arms fall helplessly to the sides. gods he was daft.

"that's all my family cares about," you tell him, your voice dripping with something else, a buried emotion that you've been hauling around for years, "i think they'd rather me be eaten by a bear on my way back," you admit with a smile, but he doesn't reciprocate it. he doesn't really seem to be one for jokes.

gojo's arms cross over his chest, thinking. this entire time he just thought you liked being by yourself. were you alone because you had to be? is that why you've been avoiding the group?

before he can say something the shouts from the other kids reel you back to looking at the shore. they're calling for him to come back, asking what's taking him so long.

he looks back at you, conflicted.

"the water's nice," you say, your voice a little quieter as you give him a small smile, pushing him to leave.

he rakes his fingers through his white hair, staring at you longer.

that smile, he thinks, is the most melancholic thing he's ever seen

"there aren't any bears here," he says, as if that would do anything to help.

but your smile turns into something easier, a laugh, a genuine one, falling from your lips. gojo decides he likes that sound. better than all the other laughs he's heard.

"i'll trust you on that," you say, ducking your head down in a final nod as you turn around a final time and disappear behind the shrubbery.

gojo stands there for another minute, thinking.

and then he heads back to the beach, where all the other kids have already gone into the water. he goes to take off his tunic before he realizes he's still holding your blanket, the fabric searing into his skin.

he brings it closer to his face, his nose scrunching at a distinct smell, a small smile forming on his face when he can still remember the lingering smell on you too from when you were speaking to him.

lavender.

[podcastenthusiast]

I find it really compelling that Astarion appears to have had hobbies when he was enslaved by Cazador.

Things Astarion probably did in between the horrors:

Embroidered and patched up things for himself (and, reluctantly, his siblings). We know this. Practical--I don't get the feeling Cazador was buying them clothes any more than strictly necessary--and a good way to stay sane.

Got really good at picking locks. Also canon. I've seen the interpretation this was to escape shackles, which is possible. But I dunno...he says himself he gave up on escape. More likely I think he was just very bored, and also such a skill offers some comfort should he ever be locked up again for another year.

Learning languages, including Orcish. Canon as well and honestly I'm dying to know how/when he managed this. Did he find a Orcish-Common dictionary? Did he know a half-Orc? Either way I can see him relishing the chance to insult Cazador or his siblings without them knowing.

Reading, as he does all the time at camp. If you can't escape physically, a good story can be a decent distraction for a while. Astarion is intelligent and seems to know a fair bit of history and such. I imagine it wasn't an activity Cazador encouraged. But that wouldn't stop him and Dal, and later maybe Leon if he's feeling brave, forming a secret book club, reading anything at all they could get their hands on, from awful erotica to dry religious texts.

There must have been a brief period where he tried to befriend and train some rats to do his bidding. But he was bad at it and also very hungry. Violet claims to have succeeded.

Music. He hears it everywhere--in the dingy taverns he's sent to, at Cazador's damn parties, on the street--it's too intense for a while after that infamous year of silence. But it also reminds him that he isn't there anymore. Astarion has no gift for musical instruments himself, but he grows to appreciate hearing a good song.

Drinking wine and pretending it doesn't all taste terrible to him now. Sometimes, alone or with Aurelia, he would pretend it's fresh blood instead. Sometimes he would pretend to just be anyone else.

Stealing his siblings' makeup and anything else he wants. None of them really "own" anything after all, he'll say, but will get incredibly annoyed if they in turn take something of his.

Between fights and torments, of which there were so many, I bet he played stupid little games with his siblings. Trying to convince them he died a very cool death or something. Or enlisting Violet's expertise to prank Petras.

One time Yousen finds like a choose your own adventure book (since I dunno if a form of D&D exists in BG3 and if it did they don't have the supplies). Anyway he reads it to the other spawn and by the end of the night Astarion and Petras both have new black eyes and bite marks.

Not saying it was a good time by any means. It wasn't. But it was a very long time not to carve out an occasional diversion. You'd just lose it otherwise.

[rogueddie]

Leap of Faith T | 1,286 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is saying 'I love you' even when you're scared

Eddie has never been very good at figuring out where his limits lay. It's something that usually proves good- he's willing to try to do anything, sure he can do it and he usually finds that he either can or he can pick up the skills neccessary very fast.

When it comes to romance, he's never quite got it.

He's not sure Robin "gets it" either, but she knows Steve better than he ever could. He trusts her to plan something that would, at the very least, be something Steve would enjoy.

It might not get him a boyfriend at the end of it, but it will at least make Steve happy. It's the best Eddie can bring himself to hope for.

But, even with all of that in mind, Eddie is terrified.

"You'll be fine," Wayne reassures him, for the eighteenth time. "That boy adores you. Even if this don't work out, you'll stay friends."

"Yeah, I know, but..."

"It's still scary," Wayne wraps an arm around his shoulders. "I get it, son. This ain't ever easy. I can't imagine how much harder it is when it's with another boy. But I know you. You're gonna do great."

Before Eddie can respond, there's a knock at the door.

"Oh, shit, I almost forgot-"

Eddie darts off to his room, quickly grabbing the tickets Robin had got him. He can hear Wayne and Steve talking, which makes him rush back.

"Hey!" Eddie says, slightly out of breath. "Sorry. You, uh... you look good."

"Thanks," Steve grins, glancing down at himself.

Objectively, Eddie knows it's an outfit he's worn before- a striped, yellow polo with his favourite jeans and go-to white sneakers.

But he tries to be optimistic, and it's easier than he expects. He's told Steve that those types of jeans suit him, he's told Steve that yellow looks good on him...

"You look good too," Steve adds, looking him up and down.

"Thanks. Uh..." he hesitates, glancing at Wayne, who pointedly raises his eyebrows. "We should head out, right? Movie starts soon."

"Did Robin tell you what movie we're going to see? She gave me the weirdest rundown of tonights plan."

"She told me not to tell you."

"Great," Steve sighs. He tries to frown, to look annoyed, but it fails completely. His excitement is too obvious.

Eddie holds the door open, gesturing Steve through.

When he turns back to say bye, Wayne mouths "good luck" at him, giving him a thumbs up too.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Thanks. See you later, old man."

Steve is already stood by his car, expression making it clear that he'll lose if he tries to argue that they take his van instead.

"We're not going in the van," Steve says, the second Eddie pulls out his keys.

"I know! Just- one minute!"

He climbs in the back, shoving things aside so he can grab the small box, grabbing the flowers once he's climbed back out.

"For you," Eddie says, holding them both out.

The carnations aren't anything special- Eddie had only picked them specially because they're cheaper- but Steve holds them delicately, eyes full of awe.

"Thank you," he breathes, finally tearing his eyes away from the flowers. "They're, uh... they're really pretty."

"Yeah, they're... you're welcome."

"Could, um... you don't mind if we stop by my house, on the way, right? I should- these need to be put in water."

"That's fine, yeah, I don't mind."

The ride to Steves is quiet, but tense. Eddie keeps his eyes firmly forward, struggling to keep his expression neutral with how Steves eyes keep boring into the side of his head with his glances.

When Steve darts inside, Eddie grabs the box that Steve seems to have missed with the flowers stealing all his attention. He carefully props it on the steering wheel.

He keeps glancing at it as he waits. By the time Steve comes back out, he's wiping his hands on his jeans, anxious.

"Oh!" Steve grins, grabbing the box, excited. He only hesitates for a moment, glancing at Eddie, who gives him a nod. "It's not even my birthday."

He freezes once he finally opens it. He turns to look at Eddie after a moment, expression blank.

"It's, uh... you said you liked it," Eddie explains. "Saw one the other day and, uh... here we are."

"Thank you. Really. I didn't think you'd... well, it's great. Thank you."

The ring is almost plain, a silver band with simple designs carved. It doesn't help that it's old, clearly second-hand.

Eddie thinks the age adds to its charm and, judging by how Steve immediately slides it onto his finger, he seems to agree.

"We're eating after we watch this film, right?"

"Yeah. I thought we'd go to that little burger joint?"

"The one ran by Diane?"

"I think it is. It's got those weird tablecloths with the-"

"The lace things, yeah, that's the one. I love that place!"

Thankfully, conversation comes easy after that. It makes the journey to the cinema less tense. By the time they park, they're teasing each other as usual.

The movie, for Eddie, is boring. Another rom-com that Steve loves.

Eddie spends almost the entire time staring at Steve, enjoying his love of the movie, basking in the second hand joy.

He's almost disappointed when the credits roll.

Their meal makes up for it though. Steve spends the entire time talking about the movie, gushing about the parts he loved and why. The lovesick expression he has, when describing the love the protagonists shared, is worth the price of admission.

Steve gets out, when they pull up to the trailer park, walking him to his door.

"Eds," Steve says, quickly, grabbing his arm when he goes to unlock the door. "You know, tonight was amazing. It was really fun. I'd, um, love to hang out again. If you want."

"Yeah?" Eddie shifts, nervously glancing around. "What if, um..."

Steve waits for a moment but, when it becomes clear that Eddie is too nervous to continue, he asks, "what?"

"I don't want it to be a hang out," Eddie rushes out to say. The words jumble together in his rush, making him almost unintelligable. "I want it to be... to be a date."

"Really? That- yeah. Yeah, I'd love that. Was- this was a date too, right?"

Steves smile is wide, eyes crinkling at the corners. It makes Eddies heart flutter.

"Yeah, I mean, if you want it to be, because... I do. Want it to be a date, I mean."

"It was a date," he nods. "And it was a great date. Perfect."

"Good." Eddie shifts a step closer, taking a shaky breath. "Sorry I didn't ask you, like, properly. I really, um... I really like you, Steve."

"I like you too."

"No, I mean... I'm pretty sure I love you."

"Good, because I'm pretty sure I love you too."

He leans in, quickly kissing Eddie on the cheek. His cheeks are flushed as he quickly looks around.

"Oh, look," he snorts, pointing to one of the windows- Maxs face is peering through the curtains and she gives them a thumbs up. "Brat."

"You... don't mind? That she saw?"

"No? She's like family, man, she's safe." Steves smile falters. "Unless you don't want them to know? Is it too soon? Am I-"

"No, it's great. I just wasn't sure."

"Well, to be clear, I'd scream it from the rooftops if it didn't put a target on your back."

"On our backs."

"Eh, I've got a nailbat, I'm fine. You've been through enough."

"So have you."

Steve rolls his eyes, sighing. "Sure, yeah, whatever. Come on, let me kiss you again before we say goodbye."

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

miguel imagines - I can't stop myself from writing him

593 words

he doesn't cook often, but if and when he finally does, he loves to do it with you. he's not an awful cook but not amazing. he just doesn't have much time, patience, energy, or desire to perfect the skill. nor the temperament. but with you, all that goes out the window

you'd both make a date out of cooking together. spend the evening in the kitchen cooking slowly and maybe doing so over a few glasses of wine. there'd be latin music playing from a distant room and it would create a really homely, calm ambience

he'd teach you how to make a recipe he learned, guiding you as if you were his sous-chef. you'd slice and chop the ingredients while he stirred the pan on the heat/ did other bits to prep. he wouldn't want you too far from him, so you and the cutting board would be on the next available counter space

he'd be very touchy-feely, it would all just be so domestic and comforting, something so contrary to his work life. he'd crack a couple jokes here and there, and would softly hum along to the music (he wouldn't do that with anyone but you) every few minutes, he'd kiss your cheek, forehead, nose, shoulder, arm or hand, anything just to feel you

he'd notice you sniffle and the way your eyes would tear as you cut the onions, chuckling as he made his way over to you. "Cariño... sore eyes, hm?" he'd stand closely behind, wrapping his arms around your front, resting his hand on yours and around the knife with the other holding the produce to keep it steady. you'd close your eyes to stop the burning sensation, and miguel would guide your movements, cutting the onions for you, kissing your temple and shoulder in between. "good job," he'd say, kissing your cheek 

after dumping everything in the pan, he'd stand in front of you, mere inches apart, blotting your eyes with a paper towel, one hand would be around the back of your neck, holding as the other patted under your eyes, gently drying them. "better?" he'd chuckle, watching you nod. "Bueno,"

once everything was done he'd plate up while you'd set the table. it would all be pretty and cosy, there'd be candles, and the music would be a little quieter so you could hear one another. a very intimate, quaint atmosphere

he'd sit at the head of the table with you to his left, sitting very close to each other. there would also be some cheeky jokes exchanged due to the wine. he'd call you many spanish terms of endearment, would be so charismatic and charming. you'd both talk freely, without any judgement. maybe you'd gossip about some people at work or complain about your car, and he'd share stories about stupid things the other spiders had said recently

after you finished eating, you'd sit there for a little while, letting the food go down as you continued talking. eventually, you'd both get up, he'd wash up the dishes (saying that it was his job) and you'd clear the table, helping by scraping plates and pans, and cleaning surfaces. you'd finish much earlier than him, so you'd sit on the countertop next to him, sharing more stories and jokes

once everything was away in the kitchen, he'd stand between your legs, kissing you tenderly (possibly to stop you from talking, but you wouldn't mind) his eyes would soften and he'd smile. offering to share a bath before bed, in which you gladly accept

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

[findmeinthefallair]

It's me again. The therapist/illustrator who can't stop squeaking and screaming about her beloved son Hunter.

I've been thinking nonstop about him finding the terrible grimwalker graveyard, imagining what would be going through my mind if I were him. Sifting through whatever moments, dialogue and frames that I can find from the existing material, along with references outside of the show, to formulate what an offscreen scene would've been like.. (And seeing if I can find editable and salvageable enough backgrounds so I could perhaps even depict this scene one day)

A soul like him who not only wants to help others, but also acquire knowledge:

heading back here to see the graveyard:

You can't tell me that this wouldn't still be on his mind, and he's even anxious while saying this below, scratching his face a little:

Whether he follows up on this or not, also depends on how he looks back on being shown this:

And is he just going to go cold turkey and totally drop these leads he was pursuing in the episodes before the finale? :

Three things prompted me to finally write this post:

@polyhexian's and @ashanimus's analyses of Hunter's fight scenes in Hunting Palismen and Eclipse Lake (links here and here, they're really cool to read!!), based on their years of experience with martial arts. Reading those was a revelation to me because learning about how high Hunter's skill level is, how in touch with his body he is by default, portrayed so well thanks to the crew...that allows me to make far more educated guesses about his mental health in the early stages of the pre-epilogue gap of about 4 years. Because he is so used to high activity and being on high alert, no thanks to having C-PTSD.

Observing how light and free Hunter's expressions are, and how transformed his demeanor became, in the epilogue sequence. That transformation is an indication to me of the magnitude of grief which had to be transformed within him. To be put back together, in order to be so radiant, generous and self-actualized in the epilogue...imagine how much had to be deconstructed and further broken beforehand. He wouldn't have room to fill his life up with all that amazing newness if the old isn't emptied out first.

This psychoeducational video by my fave author, also a practicing therapist, who specializes in traumatic grief: link. Hearing her address the topic of entering the second year after a bereavement vs. the first year, was interesting. Definitely confirms to me that Hunter wouldn't have carved Waffles until past the 2nd year of navigating his bereavement.

In the years that pass before the epilogue, Hunter will not be able to understand why the efforts he puts into all the rebuilding work, coordinating and leading others, and trying to have fun - only cycle back to him experiencing a mix of a restlessness and emptiness in the deepest layer of his mind. It'll exhaust his energy bit by bit. I bet he's going to generally look as tired as depressed Luz does below, even if he's had an acceptable hours of sleep per night:

That restlessness will be an awful psychological itch that he'll be unable to scratch, caused by losing Flapjack and now also Belos. This is the same as what happened with his anger in For the Future, except Belos was still alive back then. It will be harder to understand and messier to navigate the bereavement this time round. It'll be something gnawing into his soul which I really think only professional help can heal, especially since the show promotes that it's okay to not be okay, and more than okay to seek professional help (Steve and Lilith's conversation in Edge of the World).

He will be trying to claw his way out of that C-PTSD pit, but he'll be aware deep down that he simply cannot reach any emotional high points for long, and something will be blocking his feelings of connection with his loved ones. He won't feel nearly as free and easy the way he used to be in the human realm:

Having a routine like he used to in the Castle, and moving around a lot, was what helped him survive. However, he won't have the awareness that the shift resulting from Belos passing away has been at such a fundamental level: to the point that those old, supposedly tried-and-true methods no longer serve him in any positive way. At least, not until his mental health will be back in better shape.

As he puts in more and more effort to escape that restless emptiness, getting annoyed at himself because he doesn't know what's going on...he'll use up the rest of his strength and eventually crash. That itch won't be solved by going back to overworking tendencies, and like how it is with addiction cycles, he would need some kind of fix for the deep restlessness within. The answer? Productivity to feel useful, which we have seen even in his efforts to fix damaged clothing and well, making stuff in general.

Where the grimwalker graveyard comes in is...once he hears news about its existence, he will stubbornly insist to want to help in investigating it, saying he has already read a bunch of books about them, and can be useful, etc. Worse, if his offer to help to investigate is refused, he will do what he did in Eclipse Lake. Go to the location anyway, to fill that deep void within.

Old habits die hard.

I don't know if he may hear from King (who he'll be seeing fairly often, I think!), The Collector or even Kikimora about it. Since they were the three characters who went all the way down there in King's Tide, and The Collector already knew about these horrors for literal centuries. King and The Collector are also still young kids! Will they have the sensitivity and awareness about breaking this news to Hunter?!

On the other hand, I don't know how the timing will be with Darius, Raine and Eberwolf..Darius will want to get serious about investigating his mentor's disappearance. Once the searching and scouring extends to the location of the Head of the Titan, they will find the evidence staring them in the face. If they want to scour every inch of the Isles, there's also a high chance they'll find the godforsaken grimwalker lab.

Worst of all, Darius would be aware by then of how much Hunter loves to help out in operations like this to be productive. At the same time, Darius's own grief will surface even more, I'm not sure he'll be able to hide that, and Hunter is highly observant. If Darius is trying to hide his own priority of finding closure re: his mentor, I think Hunter will sense that.

Therefore I wonder if this will happen except it's Hunter with Darius:

and then this poor beloved skrunkly son of mine, who so famously said these words at the beginning of his arc:

is probably going to get reckless, and endanger his mental health...not unlike moments like this:

by venturing to the graveyard, whether stealthily or accompanying the grownups, because he'll rationalize it as "getting closure" and once again "being useful". Remember how used he is to moving around so much and being active, combined with growing up isolated so that asking for help can still be a foreign concept to him. He would be anxious about grinding to a halt, and he'd want to be on the move instead.

He may demand to see the graveyard, and holy Titan I'm not sure any dilemma will be as tricky for Camila and Darius to navigate as this one. Because preventing him from seeing something he already knows exists is, in a very twisted way, also an unhelpful form of avoidance. Avoidance is a hallmark criterion for diagnosing both PTSD and C-PTSD.

How far do they go in protecting him from himself? Where do they draw that line? They might reach a compromise where Camila and Darius accompany him there. Once he sees it, it'll hit harder than this:

Letting him see it means his new parents would have to fall with him, in the sense that they follow him to that emotional place: but while he figuratively does not have a safety harness when falling into this deep dark hole, Camila and Darius are equipped with harnesses a.k.a. higher maturity, less of a trauma history, and some tools to help him get better, navigate the trauma, and manage his symptoms.

Camila will have the warmth and sensitivity to catch and meet him as he falls (she interacts with animals in her profession, who don't have the capacity for human language, in a similar way to how serious trauma can't even be put into words at times: it makes you voiceless). Darius's shared past living in the Castle and grieving over his mentor will help Hunter not feel as alone once he has seen these horrors.

And because his heart generally became more open to receiving love and support,

I doubt he'll close himself off almost completely, the way he did in the first two-thirds of For the Future (god, remember these deleted storyboards??):

It wouldn't surprise me if he weeps and panics as soon as he sees the graveyard, and his parents give him maximum support through that breakdown. As complicated as it would be for Camila and Darius to give in to his desire to see the graveyard, a response like this from him - a child seeking attachment with proper timing - is a good sign of growing into healthy attachment with parental figures.

It is an arguably better response than one of the hardest aspects of C-PTSD: where the outpouring of grief only happens after a delay, sometimes a significant delay, at very inconvenient or strange times. Hell...if I were Hunter, I'd probably want Camila and Darius to just hold me close in wordless silence for half an hour until my initial distress and shock passes.

If I use King - a child who is securely attached to Eda, who's definitely had a more stable upbringing - as a control experiment here, he could have the appropriate response immediately in Echoes of the Past and expressed his emotional needs clearly enough:

Whereas this is what Hunter has to now learn, at twice King's age, as he settles in with new parents who take care of him instead of mistreating him the way Belos did. Hell, I can't imagine what kind of Belos punishment awaited him if he cried to demand attachment.

(I need to use more King scenes as a comparison to Hunter's upbringing in my next metas! I realize this can make my explanations clearer)

Anyway, what may happen next after he can't unsee the graveyard is...Hunter will then swing to the other extreme of high activity. I.e. being passive, physically inactive and psychologically crashing into depression, which may translate into habits such as oversleeping (catching up on all that lost sleep...but at what cost?). Supposedly sliding deeper into the C-PTSD pit. A place from which he has to express the desire to seek the forms of help he needs.

Remember that this kid has only known extremes for most of his life. Until he settles in properly with his found family and attends therapy, he has no clear reference point for more balanced approaches in living.

The trauma he went through is a quadruple whammy for a 16-year-old who just survived growing up in a cult. It would be so much. I can't see him not falling into months of deep dark depression, as unfortunate as this sounds.

Grieving over Flapjack, grieving over Belos, over his childhood/upbringing, and now a grisly memory of his predecessors who didn't make it (to add to what he saw in Belos's mindscape). I simply cannot see him handling a load like this without a highly-equipped and sensitive professional, paired with his support network of family, friends and even possibly the wider community at times. Especially now that we've seen him in action during the epilogue.

The epilogue sequence would've had a different feel (and in my opinion, a not-so-good feel) for me if Dana had established that the grimwalker graveyard was still untouched after those 3.5-4 years and if Hunter never found out about it. Something like that is different compared to Dana mentioning in the recent Post-Hoot that in the he does not know about Caleb and Evelyn, or that he is related to the Clawthornes. Mysteries like the Clawthorne heritage can remain an eerie secret that only us in the audience know about, but I wouldn't feel comfy if this were the case for the graveyard as well.

To quote @idlescree's video essay about Hunter's death (link), the show's writers didn't pull any punches when it came to Hunter's development arc. Which means they had to take his story to the "categorically appropriate place for him to overcome" his greatest challenges.

Something tells me that with respect to the grimwalker graveyard and the avoidance theme in C-PTSD recovery, Hunter would've had to put in more work to confront a number of terrifying foes even beyond his Thanks to Them speech. One of which was the graveyard containing the remains of his predecessors.

PS: This is a spontaneous post which branches out from my giant post-finale meta (link) that I pinned to my blog, I suppose.

[kuruna]

💧🙉🌌🌈 for Xanthos! I have to say, I really love his complex character layers and dynamics with AZ. I find him to be pretty relatable especially his struggle with feeling needed and his fear of failures; I'm also the youngest out of my siblings so I feel that sense of wanting to be "useful" . I apologize if this comes off a bit too gushy, but seeing your works helped clarify my thoughts with the media itself and myself.

Aw don't worry about sounding too gushy, I love hearing people's thoughts and I'm glad he resonated with you in that way! I'm a middle child myself, so I do often think about my own sibling dynamics when writing for them 😭 🙉 HEAR-NO-EVIL - what is the worse thing your oc could hear from someone?

Xan is already his own worst critic, and has a bad habit of blaming himself for things that quite genuinely are not his fault (he also blames himself for things that ARE his fault, but that's more understandable 😭). However, it does hurt him a Lot when he's told something that confirms what he already thinks about himself. Being placed in a scenario where he feels helpless, or where he feels weak, are the worst things ever for him.

🌌 MILKY WAY - what was the inspiration behind your oc? what was the first thing you decided about them?

This is gonna be long because I love these types of questions... anyways! Whenever a media has "implied characters" (characters that are mentioned but not seen or named), I really enjoy taking them and giving them a design and voice ^.^ The first thing I decided about Xan was a design feature! I thought it would be fun if he essentially had an "upside-down" version of Lysandre's hair. The idea is still there but less obvious, because this proved to be way too hard to draw in a way I liked 😭 AZ was known as a great king who transformed Kalos into a land of prosperity, but it's also established that in the past, pkmn were seen as tools and not much more, and here was a king who treated a Floette like part of his family. Despite his greatness, he was surely seen as odd for it! The fact that his best friend is a sweet little Floette also tells me that he doesn't mesh well with other humans. What does that mean for his brother? I imagined someone who lacked AZ's skill for invention, but was charismatic and well-liked. And from there I imagined someone who (unfortunately!) would be the type to chastise AZ for not being a "proper" king, who maybe didn't make an effort to understand his brother as well as he should have. At the same I really dislike the idea of "everything bad can be blamed on this one guy," so I wanted to make a character that was complex from the get-go, rather than it being a situation where AZ's brother was just an evil jerk or something. If AZ is secure enough to not care what others think of him and to act as he wishes, his brother must be the opposite. This was my initial thesis for Xanthos, and still my go-to when I work on developing him! He is his brother's opposite. As for why I eventually decided Xan became immortal too... I forgot how the idea came about 💔 but I really like the inherently complicated dynamic he'd have with AZ in such a scenario, and the questions it creates. Is it possible for them to forgive one another after everything that's happened...? I would like to think they can... after all, they have all the time in the world to make amends.

🌈 RAINBOW - what advice would they give to their younger self?

Ohhhh he definitely has a whole laundry list of things he would want to say... other than the obvious ("can you pleaaaassee actually talk to your brother instead of attempting a coup in your desperation to be heard"). I think the #1 thing would be "stop acting so ashamed of the people you care for most! You cannot appease everyone, and this is fine!" The #2 thing would be "stop trying to do everything on your own! ask for help when you need it!!!" (funnily enough... I think a lot of the things he would say to his younger self are things he Does end up saying to Lysandre at some point 😭)

💧 DROPLET - random angst headcanon

Ended up doing this one last because I couldn't decide which little lore tidbit I wanted to use for it 😭 During the reconstruction of Kalos... while it took a bit to discover the Straight Up Immortality, people were quick to notice that Xan aged much slower than those around him. When his sons were both adults, for example, Xan only looked a few years older than them. Eventually this confusion grew into fear, and that fear led to Xan being rejected by his very homeland, despite all he'd done for it. (On this note 💔 Xan's sons were named Xerxes and Yeltaz. The name "Xerxes" is one of Xan's middle names, and the name "Yeltaz" is one of AZ's middle names. As you can imagine, AZ and Floette never got the chance to meet either of them 😔)

[inquisimer]

IT’S FRIDAY MER!!!!! Let’s see some Solas x Lavellan for the prompt ❛ i’m sorry that i can’t save you. ❜ from the hit 'em where it hurts sentence starters? 🤷‍♀️👀😈

takes your angst and rotates it into fluff

some pre-ship solavellan for @dadrunkwriting

wc: 994

~~~

Irosyl frowned at the chess board, trying to make her confused expression one of deep thought. Across the stone platform, the Commander was very politely pretending not to watch her from the corner of his eyes. She hesitantly lifted a rook and rolled the marble cylinder between her fingers.

It clicked against the board when she set it down. Cullen gave up his pretense of ignorance and immediately folded his hands under his chin, considering. Suppressing a sigh, Irosyl’s gaze darted out across the gardens.

The things shemlen did for fun. And the things she apparently did to appease the shems.

She meant to look back, to pretend that she could do any sort of analysis on the Commander’s strategy, but the glint of sunlight off a bald head caught her eye. Solas was in the gardens, collecting elfroot by the looks of it.

“Savhalla!” she called, a bit louder than strictly necessary, but she wanted to be sure Solas could not pretend not to hear her. Plate metal scraped in an unpleasant screech as Cullen jumped slightly, but success! Solas turned so that she was looking at him in profile, one eyebrow slightly raised.

Elfroot in hand, he came closer. “On dhea’him, Inquisitor,” he said at a much more reasonable volume. His low voice slipped down her spine like silk and she suppressed a shameful shiver.

She frowned, though. “I thought we were over the nonsense of that awful title.”

A distressed noise came from across the board. Cullen gave her an exasperated look as he moved one of his smallest pieces to capture the rook she’d just placed.

“Fenhedis,” she muttered.

“You really must stop disparaging your title in public, Inquisitor,” Cullen said, the honorific rolling from his tongue pointedly. He tilted his head toward where a number of agents and servants were clustered, mere paces from their game. “It does poorly for morale and faith to have our leader so…”

He trailed off, probably searching for the least offensive way to phrase his concern. Ever merciless, Irosyl crossed her arms and frowned.

“Impertinent?” Solas suggested, the hint of a glib smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

“I am not—“

“It is your move, is it not?” Solas cut her off smoothly, unquestionable with the infuriatingly smooth authority. He glanced over the board and this time his smirk reached the surface. “Well. They always did say losing was it’s own art form.”

Irosyl huffed, wondering why she’d called him over in the first place. “What, could you do better? It’s not as if chess was a common pasttime in my clan.”

“I could, yes.”

Irosyl rolled her eyes. She gave Solas her back and considered the board, as if looking at the pieces would actually help her. As she lifted one of her pawns, Cullen offered her a sympathetic smile.

“Do not feel bad,” he said gently. “They say chess is a skill learned over a lifetime. I’ve been playing since I was a child, myself.”

“Is that so?” Irosyl hummed curiously. She couldn’t imagine any of the wiggly, high-spirited children in her clan sitting still long enough to learn even the basic rules of this game. Nor would it occur to any of the elders to insist that they should. A pang of longing struck her heart and for a moment she longed to flee but—

“Oh, fenhedis,” she hissed. Cullen slid his queen along the board and a self-satisfied smirk pulled at the scar on his lip.

“I do believe that’s checkmate.”

“Of course it is,” Irosyl groaned, burying her hands in her hair. “Oh, Bull is gonna have my head over this. He’ll know I haven’t been paying attention.”

“I’m sure he knows already,” Solas commented. “He would be a poor spy otherwise.”

Irosyl’s face twisted in distaste. “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

Stone scraped against stone as the Commander stood, sketched a bow to the elf across from him. “Thank you for the game, Inquisitor. I’m afraid I must take my leave and return to work.”

“Of course,” Irosyl waved her hand. “It was a…pleasant distraction, Commander.”

“Was it?” Solas asked, surprising Irosyl by sliding into Cullen’s empty seat as he walked away to the battlements. The other elf reset the board with deft, knowing hands, ignoring his partner’s surprised look. Lacing her fingers together, Irosyl rested her chin on them and regarded him with ill-disguised curiosity.

“And if it was?”

“Then I would have expected you to come up with a better way to express it.”

Something halfway between a laugh and a scoff escaped Irosyl. For as unreadable as Solas had been—since the beginning—he could certainly read her like a book.

“Yes, well…” She pursed her lips, considering the fresh alignment of pieces. Solas had given her the ivory half, so she was expected to move first. So he could gauge her style, no doubt. Bull had told her that intellectuals used such analysis to learn intimate details of their opponents.

Intellectuals. Irosyl wrinkled her nose.

“The commander is someone I must appease,” she said, nudging a pawn forward. “As opposed to this game which—“

She folded her hands and regarded him intently over them. “I will enjoy. Immensely.”

“Yes, well.” Solas cleared his throat—was it Irosyl’s imagination, or were the tips of his ears going pink? It should be able to tell against his lily white skin, but as in all things, he was hard to read. “I couldn’t quite save you from the Commander’s attention, so the least I could do is replace it with something more…palatable.”

“What high praise you give yourself,” Irosyl teased.

He rolled his eyes, then raised an eyebrow as she moved her pawn forward rather aggressively. “Is that the kind of recklessness the Iron Bull has been teaching you?”

Irosyl pouted.

Leaning forward, Solas pushed her pawn back to where it had been before. “Let me teach you how to beat him, falon.”

[soot-and-salt]

I would like to ask about 4. and 17., please! 🤗

Aw hell yeah, let's go

4. a story idea you haven't written yet

Where Hazbin is concerned, hoo boy, have I got some things percolating, my friend. I'm definitely going to do SOMETHING for kink week in June, probably a grab bag of prompts (praise kink for sure), and I'm definitely thinking it'll be radiostatic. I also have a few ideas for the gothic radioapple series (one fic with a drunken confession Lucifer doesn't remember and another that I'm rotating again in my head about Lucifer's depression and how that affects his relationship with Alastor).

I want to return back to humor too, there's been too much maudlin stuff lately, so a VERY funny fic featuring Alastor and Valentino forced to work together is on the horizon. I'm 1k words into it. It's gonna happen, I swear. They're idiots, your honor. I don't know why I love writing Val, he's terrible, but his voice is so much fun.

It's funny, I used to write almost exclusively AUs in another fandom, and I loved doing it, but I can't think of a single one for Hazbin. Being in Hell, being demons and having that background is so essential to the characters. I'm in awe of the authors who can write human Alastor AUs. Wish that were me. Skill issue on my part.

17. talk about your writing and editing process

Okay, so, here's the thing. Are you ready for my shameful secret?

I write directly into the AO3 text box. I leave WIPs as drafts.

Yes, it is the most INSANE WAY POSSIBLE to write. I am incredibly sorry about it.

Listen. I've written professionally before, for actual human currency, both fiction and nonfiction. Writing in Google docs gives me so much anxiety now because of it. It's such a dumb problem to have and I want to try to get over it and write in Google docs like a normal person again. But writing IN AO3 is weirdly more freeing? I sort of stop myself from some of my old perfectionist habits and I can be more loose with what I'm doing. Seeing that site is like a signal to my brain that it's just for fun and I can do whatever the hell I want. I don't know how to explain it.

My day job is a stressful mess so I usually only get to write on Wednesdays, Thursdays, and weekends. I don't like to listen to music as I write, or at least not music with lyrics. Lyrics are important to me though, my very long work commute (over an hour each way) provides me with ample time to daydream to music and sometimes I'll hear a lyric and boom an entire fic is suddenly in my head.

Editing is something I currently actually do for human currency as a side hustle so when I edit my own work I'm just trying to focus on spelling/grammar and flow. I'll read out loud what I wrote at least once so I can make sure it has a proper cadence, especially dialogue. If they're characters with accents or a certain way of speaking I'll try to verbally mirror that to make sure they sound in character. So please, by all means, imagine me at like 10pm putting on my very best trans-Atlantic to make sure my Alastor sounds okay.

My main writing issue is I have both crippling anxiety and un-medicated ADHD so any words I get down are often a struggle and some writing nights are spent staring at a wall while I fall apart inside. My best writing nights are ones where I've spent the entire day drinking caffeine (like eight or nine cups of black tea so strong you could stand a spoon up in it) and my brain achieves like 45% of what a normal brain can do. So, you know, things are really going well for me. This is a very normal way to live.

So, uh, yeah, in conclusion, please read my fanfiction, I swear to god I'm pretty good at it. And ask me more questions so I can give you more horrifying answers.

[deejadabbles]

hi Deeja!!! I’m sliding through for the OC x OC asks, and I would love to see who you ship with Blizzard, our warm-hearted, snow-loving king 🥰

the highlights: Ace pilot, cold name warm heart, loves the snow and ice, lives for the freedom of flying, puts others needs before his own, sweetheart on the ground, deadly in the skies, tenacious, total flyboy, energy for days, thick fluffy curls, kind eyes, you can take him home to your family

total pleasure dom, will spoil tf outta his S/0

romantic or platonic works for me 🧡🤍 I’m so excited for this one!!!

I ship Blizzard with me look we're already married and buying a house together okay okay but seriously I knew who I shipped him with the moment I saw this and now I'm so soft over these two!! I ship him (romantically) with Jaylee!

Jaylee really admires Blizzard’s warm heart and it's a reminder that there is inherent good in people. She finds it easy to let her guard down around him and that's not something she's used to! It honestly scares her a little, but I think Blizz would just kind of naturally soothe those fears when he's around her!

I hope he's ready to have the coziest, softest sweaters he could ever want because she's making them for him. Sweaters and scarfs, for when he wants to have fun adventures in the snow! (Like seriously she knows that clone armor is temperature regulated but I'm just imagining her still being appalled that he'll run into snow in just his armor and her yanking a sweater over his head like “maker’s sake put this on- you're going to get frostbite!”)

Speaking of snow, I am super super soft while thinking of this: so winters were very harsh on her colony, so she unfortunately always associates the cold with hunger and fear. She never understood how anyone could take enjoyment in snow…until she met Blizzard. Seeing his delight in such a thing had her in awe honestly. And if he confides in her why he loves snow so much? She is very soft and doesn't know what to do with herself! So soft that she'll even let him coax her into a snowball fight!

At first she finds his flying quite terrifying, but he would exude such confidence and, more importantly, competence that her fears are quickly tempered. She still worried over his safety, she can't help it, but she knows that his skills will keep him as safe as possible. Eventually, if the opportunity presents itself, she'll even ask him to take her flying…so long as he promises not to scare her with too many flashy stunts!! If he wants her to cling to him there's other ways to accomplish that!

It will take her forever to admit it, but she absolutely loves to snuggle with him. Will make large blankets for them to share (“I made this blanket too big by accident so we have to share- stop giving me that knowing smile!”) and she doesn't care what they're doing so long as he's close to her. It makes her feel safe, something she isn't used to, and she's very thankful for Blizzard giving her that warm, secure feeling.

Also of note! Once she's sure that he's actually serious about the relationship they're building, she'll start slowly rearranging her apartment to suit both of them. She, like the clones, doesn't have much so it's not that hard to integrate the space to feel like their own and she wants him to feel like he has something to come “home” to. Small acts to make him feel comfortable and appreciated are very important to her and is how she shows love since she has trouble expressing it verbally.

Okay I'm gonna make myself stop there cos I keep having more thoughts (and a few thots 👀👀) about these two!! And I'd love to hear yours if you have any ��

[twilightmalachite]

Yuuta Aoi Mini Talk - SS Arc／5th Stage Sandstorm

Translator: Mika Enstars

"Umm? Uh-huh, uh-huh… I think he’s saying, “Stop yapping like a dog. Can this mutt not even do errands?”~!"

Season: Winter

Vampire Servant

Location: Hotel Resort

Yuuta: Heheh~… ♪ The day has come where I can use you as I wish, Sakuma-senpai.

What shall I make you do, I wonder~. Perhaps have you express your heartfelt gratitude to me without restraint…?

That’s something I’ll have to look forward to later, so can you make a note of it for the time being?

💬 (Pretend to sleep)

Yuuta: Ah, don’t doze off on me…!

Aw man, he’s fallen asleep. It’s so hard to keep Sakuma-senpai awake when he’s like this~.

💬 (Look away)

Yuuta: C’mon, I can tell you’re just pretending you didn’t hear me.

Here, would you massage my shoulders? And my lower back after that, if you would! ♪

💬 (Move behind Yuuta)

Yuuta: Ahaha, I might be the only one in the world to have experienced your shoulder rub, Sakuma-senpai.

Ah~, and with just the right amount of strength~. This is paradise, absolute paradise…♪

Yuuta: Heheh. My shoulders feel light~! ♪

I’m usually the one doing various chores at the command of the Vice Prez, so it’s refreshing to be the one doing the commanding.

Sorry that I’m borrowing an important senpai of yours, Otogari-senpai.

💬 Keep it in moderation

Yuuta: I know. I won’t end up over-doing it, though…

I’m not always thinking "I wonder what to make my next order~", okay? Promise! ♪

💬 I don’t mind

Yuuta: Ahh, with things like this though, Oogami-senpai won’t be able to talk to Sakuma-senpai.

…Ack, Oogami-senpai is glaring at me with a terrifying face from over there… I’m a little scared…

💬 Is it because of the “command”?

Yuuta: Who knows? What do you think?

You can’t tell others about the “command” you receive, right? I’ll leave the reason to your imagination.

Yuuta: Mhm, mhm… Uh-huh, uh-huh…

“Koga, I am thirsty, so go buy me a drink”, he says.

Alright then Oogami-senpai, won’t you go and buy him something then?

💬 Why are you mediating, Yuuta-kun?!

Yuuta: Umm? Uh-huh, uh-huh…

I think he’s saying, “Stop yapping like a dog. Can this mutt not even do errands?”~!

💬 Is that really what Sakuma-senpai is saying?

Yuuta: Heh heh heh… Oogami-senpai, you have no way to know for sure, don’t you?

Now now, just hurry and buy him something. Otherwise, we’ll all dry up completely, you know?

💬 Guess I gotta

Yuuta: Ah, I’d like to have a soda. One with a flavor so strong that it’ll electrify your tongue!

I don’t like sweet things, so choose carefully, ‘kay? Good luuuck~! ♪

Video Conferencing

Location: Hotel Resort

Yuuta: Ah, look at this, Adonis-senpai. The numbers are going up on our PV upload on the app again!

Heheh~. We are 2wink! I look shining~! ♪

At this rate, I feel we’re gonna get tons of SSL$!

💬 Then we can buy more Desert Coins

Yuuta: Yup. Looks like sending Desert Coins will help out Hinata-kun and Hakaze-senpai.

Though, I still can’t figure out what the rules the desert are~. Well, let’s just do what we can.

💬 I’m glad

Yuuta: Me too~! ♪ I feel we’re really putting our skills on display.

Lets post more videos, and get those views!

💬 Don’t let your guard down yet

Yuuta: Hmm, you’re right, there are a couple other PVs that have similar momentum as ours…

We’re still in the lead by a good amount, but it’d be a good idea to keep an eye on those contributors.

Yuuta: We decided to figure out what we’ll do for the next video, but now what?

Well, the three of us exchanged opinions and wrote down some ideas…

Oogami-senpai, which one do you like the most?

💬 Cover another unit’s song

Yuuta: Right! As an idol, singing and dancing is our best bet, right?

I wonder what unit we could do~? Doing cool choreo like Eden would work, but the elegant style of fine seems fun too!

💬 Put on a skit

Yuuta: Ehh, are you serious, Oogami-senpai!? I thought you hated doing that stuff the most!

If you want to, I'll do it seriously too, but I’m seriously shocked…

💬 Do cooking

Yuuta: I see! Oogami-senpai, you lived alone for a while, so you know how to cook too, right?

But if we’re gonna cook, I think we’d have to borrow the hotel kitchen, though. Is that possible?

Yuuta: So, on the topic of another unit’s performance…

ES sure has a wide variety of different idols, huh?

With an exception of Ra*bits, I wonder which we should do? What would you choose?

💬 Crazy:B

Yuuta: No, no way, no no no way…

I do not want to imitate Rinne-senpai. If it gets suggested, let’s absolutely refuse.

💬 RYUSEITAI

Yuuta: Now that you’ve mentioned it, that might be fun to perform.

Something like… “A mischievous smile is proof of my spirit! A twilight-colored natural star! ☆” ♪

💬 Valkyrie

Yuuta: If we wanna turn the world upside down, that’s the way to go~!

But, although I can dance in sync with Hinata-kun perfectly, it'd be tough doing that with UNDEAD, huh…

← prev | story directory

[rubysunnday]

did she have a cookie?

requested by anon: I would like to request a Bridgerton!sis imagine in which the reader drinks the tea that Benedict had mixed the powder thinking of it as ordinary tea. And Colin and Benedict try to keep her out of trouble. And she gets emotional at the end. A fluffy ending. Thank you

a/n: just like editing, i cannot make a just happy fic

summary: Don't drink the tea unless you want to have a trip of a lifetime

Summer at Aubery Hall was always enjoyable. The late nights spent outdoors, playing games until the sun had long gone - being able to gallop across the fields without stopping.

It all brought Y/N so much joy and excitement. But, naturally, her mother had to ruin it with the mention of suitors and marriage and all the grown-up things Y/N didn't want to think about.

Since she'd woken up that morning, she had been avoiding her mother. Y/N had skipped breakfast, hidden in the library, and was now up near the nursery, searching for anyone to free her from her bordem.

She could hear Colin and Benedict in the nursery and approached the door, wanting to know what they were on about.

"What are you two doing?"

Colin turned in his chair to face the nursery door. "Talking, why, what are you doing?"

"Avoiding our mother," Y/N grumbled, walking further into the nursery. "She will not stop talking about suitors and marriage and it is driving me insane."

Colin pulled out the chair to his left and Y/N sat down in it with a huff, crossing her ankles. "You look like Eloise when you do that."

"Of course I do, she is my twin," Y/N snapped. Coline raised his eyebrows and Y/N groaned. "Sorry."

"Is she truly that awful?" Benedict asked, pouring Y/N a cup of tea before leaning back in his chair.

Yes. "No. Well, yes, but I know she means well. I just want to enjoy our time here before we return to London and society and -"

"All the joys that come with it?" Colin suggested.

Y/N nodded. She sat up in her chair, leaning forward. "She does not pester you two."

"Probably because we are men," Benedict replied. "Besides, Colin is not here enough for her to pester him."

Colin smirked, bringing his tea to his lips. "That was my plan all along, dear brother."

Y/N sighed, reaching for her tea. "I understand that this is my entire future but," she sipped the tea, "would it truly be so awful if I became a spinster? I hate society anyway."

Benedict looked thoughtful for a moment. "It would be lonely, I think. Always on the outskirts of events. From what I have seen - and been told - there is not really any place for an unmarried woman in society."

"That seems like society's problem," Y/N muttered. She blew on her tea and took another sip. "Not mine." Y/N hesitated, holding her cup close. "Marriage scares me."

Colin and Benedict shared a look.

"Not like that you idiots," Y/N hissed, catching their look. "I know enough about that. I meant in the way that I have to spend the rest of my life with this one person - unless they die of course... we can always hope."

"Where are you going with this, Y/N?" Benedict asked wairly.

"What if the person I marry starts off lovely but then turns into a horrible human being?" She asked.

Colin sighed softly. "Then, we would sort something out. There is always a solution, one way or another."

Y/N drained her tea, grimacing at the aftertaste. "Urgh, Benedict, you need to work on your tea-making skills, this is disgusting."

"What are you own about?" Benedict asked, frowning. "You love my tea."

"Well, not this one. It was disgusting," Y/N said, setting the cup down and pushing it away.

Benedict looked at the cup. His eyes slowly widened as he realised that there was another cup directly next to it, still full of steaming tea. "That was my tea."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Colin, she drank the tea," Benedict said, slowly, looking at his brother.

Y/N frowned. "It is the same tea. Is it... not?"

Colin opened his mouth and then promptly closed it again. He turned to his sister. "How do you feel?"

"Fine. Brother, you are scaring me slightly."

"No, no, it is nothing to worry about," Colin replied quickly. "I think," he added quietly. "It is just that I gave Benedict this new tea I brought back from my travels and it has a certain... effect on an individual."

Y/N blinked. "Colin Bridgerton, did you just drug me?"

"No, no, no, I drugged Benedict."

"And inadvertently drugged me!" Y/N exclaimed. "Oh, my god, we have dinner with the Sharma's and Lady Danbury tonight. Colin, is there a way to reverse it?"

"Well, I assume throwing up would work, but I fear it might be too late," Colin replied, trying not to laugh.

"Colin, don't you dare laugh," Y/N snapped. "This is not funny!"

"Alright, both of you calm down," Benedict said, holding his hands out. "Y/N, you will be fine. Will keep an eye on you and stop you from making a fool of yourself."

"That does not reassure me in any way," she grumbled. "Fine. But do not tell Anthony or mama, I am embarrassed enough as it is."

"If they find out we shall simply blame Colin," Benedict told her, patting her hand sympathetically. "I blame Colin a lot, it makes my life easier."

"I am still in the room!" Colin exclaimed.

"Fine," Y/N grumbled. "But if I start going mad, please just knock me out or something."

High Y/N was not something Benedict nor Colin had been prepared for.

It had taken about twenty minutes for the drug to actually start working. At first, it had just been like she was a little tipsy. A stumble here, a giggle there. But then the tipsy turned to drunk and soon it became clear that Y/N was high as... well, a high person.

"Mother is going to kill us," Colin muttered, holding Y/N's arm tightly.

Benedict nodded. "As is Anthony," he added. "Why does this house have so many stairs?"

Y/N missed a step and both brothers lurched forward, catching her before she lost her balance entirely. Their younger sister just giggled, swaying happily between them.

"Benny, you have such pretty eyes," Y/N said, her voice unusually high-pitched. "Oh, look, that's gorgeous."

Y/N freed herself from her brothers and dashed down the final few steps, rushing over to a bronze statue. Benedict winced, fully expecting her to fall flat on her face as she jumped the last step, but Y/N kept her balance.

"Y/N, do not," Colin swooped over and took the statue from her, "touch the statue."

Y/N crossed her arms and looked grumpily at her brother. "You have gotten meaner since you came back."

Colin gaped at his sister. "Excuse you!"

"What, it's true! You are incredibly annoying!"

Y/N turned on her heel and flounced down the corridor, heading towards the dining room. Benedict took one look at his brother - who still looked incredibly offended - and snorted.

"Don't take it personally, brother," he said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Does she actually mean that?"

"Everyone means it."

Colin shot his brother a withering look. "Come on, before she breaks something."

Somehow, Benedict and Colin managed to arrange the seating so that Y/N was sat in between them, opposite Eloise and Miss Sharma - but far away from Anthony and Miss Edwina. They were both hoping it would minimise the chaos caused and mean that Anthony was none the wiser.

"Peas make me sad."

"What?" Colin asked, turning his head sharply to look at his sister. "Peas?"

Y/N nodded, gently prodding a pea with her fork. "They are such a sad vegetable. It must be quite lonely to be a pea."

Eloise stared at her twin across the table, utterly confunded. She looked at Benedict and Colin, reading their shared glance in an instant. "What did you two idiots do to her?" She whispered.

"We didn't do anything," Benedict whispered back. "She drank the wrong tea."

"Please explain," Eloise said, raising her eyebrows.

Benedict sighed. "Colin had this tea -"

"That makes you feel like you're floating on a piece of grass?" Kate cut in, keeping her voice quiet.

Colin blinked at her. "You know it?"

"I tried it once. I ended up floating on my back in a river because I thought I was flying."

Eloise turned from Kate. "You drugged my sister?"

"Our sister."

"At this moment in time she's mine," Eloise told him. "You two drugged her."

"We did not -"

"Miss Sharma, you look very beautiful tonight," Y/N said dreamily, resting her chin on her hand as she stared at Kate.

Kate pressed her lips together tightly, trying not to laugh. "Why thank you, Miss Y/N."

"I wish my brother would just admit he lo-"

Benedict leant over and clamped a hand over Y/N's mouth, drowning out the rest of her sentence. He knocked his knife off his plate and onto the floor, the noise temporarily silencing the dining room.

"Everything alright, Benedict?" Violet asked warily, glancing over at him.

"Fine, mother," Benedict replied, quickly letting go of Y/N. "I knocked my knife."

After a few more wary glances their way, everyone eventually went back to their conversations.

"Our dear sister evidently does not have a filter," Colin muttered, picking up Benedict's knife and handing it to him.

"I only hope dinner ends before she talks to Miss Edwina," Benedict replied, slapping Y/N's hand gently as she went for his potatoes. "Otherwise Anthony may murder us."

Luckily for both brothers, Y/N's dream-like state was beginning to wear off. Instead, they were faced with an overly-emotional Y/N whose body was trying to detox from a drug she'd never had before.

The rest of dinner passed uneventfully. Anthony made a speech which Y/N didn't so much as acknowledge - she was too busy staring mournfully into a candle - and then everyone excused themselves, almost all deciding to retire for the night.

"She looks so sad," Y/N said softly.

Benedict turned, seeing that his sister had stopped halfway up the stairs. "Who does?"

Y/N pointed up at a painting high up on the wall. "She looks so very sad."

Benedict looked up at Colin, who just shrugged. With a sigh, Benedict pivoted and jogged back down the stairs, standing next to his sister.

He looked up at the painting, one he hadn't necessarily realised was there before and squinted slightly. "I suppose so, yes."

"I always see her when I leave my room," Y/N continued, her voice small, "yet I never asked who she is." She looked up at her brother. "Is that what will happen to me?"

"What will?"

"I'll just be... forgotten about? No one will ask who I am when they look at my portrait?"

Benedict stumbled over his words for a moment. "I... Y/N, I don't think -"

"If you think about it, I suppose that's all we are," Y/N said quietly, her voice catching occasionally. She sat down on the steps and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her hands around her ankles. "All that is left of our father is a painting in the study."

And suddenly, the amusement of the night vanished. Benedict felt like the air had been sucked right out of him. He looked up at Colin and cursed quietly when he saw his brother had vanished.

"Y/N..." Benedict sighed, sitting down beside her. He clasped his hands together, glancing at the signet ring on his little finger. "Father is not just a painting. He is in this house, he's in all of us... he's in Anthony's infuriating pocket watch -"

"But the image of him is gone. All we have is an artist's impression that probably is not even that accurate," Y/N countered. "I know he is still here but I do not remember what he looks like. Because the painting is just that - a painting. Someone's depiction of him as Viscount Bridgerton. Not my dad."

Benedict closed his eyes. He had nothing to say to his sister because she was right - as always. Memories are fleeting and the mind can warp things in many different ways. How his sister remembered their father was possibly entirely different to how Benedict remembered him - how Anthony remembered him.

"I would like to go to bed now," Y/N said softly, lifting her head up and looking at Benedict.

"Of course."

Benedict stood up and held out a hand to Y/N, pulling her to her feet. They walked up the rest of the stairs, side by side, in silent company. Y/N only spoke once - and that was to utter a small night to Benedict as she headed to her bedroom.

Utterly stumped, Benedict exhaled slowly, putting his hands on his waist. He dropped his head, looking down at the floor.

"Where is she?"

"Well she was - oh."

"Oh?"

"Well, she was here!"

"Colin Bridgerton, I swear -"

Benedict leant over the bannisters. "What are you two doing?"

Anthony and Colin both looked up at him. Colin had evidently found Anthony in his study for his older brother was wearing nothing but his dress shirt and trousers, looking utterly exhausted with a slight hint of concern. Benedict stared at them expectantly.

"Where's Y/N?" Anthony asked, taking the stairs two at a time.

Benedict glanced at Colin. "Did you tell him -"

"Of course, he told me!" Anthony exclaimed, raising his voice only slightly, not wanting to wake the rest of the household up. "Y/N is his soft spot - of course, he buckled and told me. Where is she?"

Benedict nodded at the door behind him. "She went to bed. Anthony, I didn't say anything to bring it on -"

"No, it's fine. I've been expecting someone to have a moment about father whilst we're here - grief is unpredictable." Anthony wanted to add I would know but decided against it. "I had mine this morning."

"The grave?" Colin asked softly.

Anthony nodded tightly. "I am still incredibly pissed that you two drugged her."

"We didn't -"

"You were going to drug him," Anthony snapped, pointing at Colin and then at Benedict. "You, shush." He softened slightly, adding, "but thank you for looking after her."

Benedict gave him a tiny smile. "She's not asleep," he said, pointing at the door.

"I know, she's not."

Anthony brushed past his brother and knocked quietly on Y/N's door. He waited a few seconds before he opened it, stepping inside with gentle footsteps.

"They told you?"

His sister's voice was quiet. She was curled up on the top corner of her bed, hugging a pillow and looking out the window. Her dress was still on and she'd had a half-hearted attempt at taking her hair down. Anthony slowly walked over to her, perching himself on the edge of her bed.

"Colin has a soft spot for you."

Y/N smiled half-heartedly. She picked at the tassels on the corner of her pillow, looking out at the grounds. "I knew coming back here would be hard," she said quietly, "because it always is. I just did not expect this year to be so difficult. I suppose being high does not help."

Anthony nodded. He crossed his ankles, exhaling softly. "When we first returned here after... after the incident, it was incredibly difficult. His presence is still here - I can almost feel him watching me, sometimes."

"I went into your study earlier, looking for you," Y/N said quietly. "That's when I saw the portrait. I have seen it before - there's one back in London as well. But it just occurred to me that... it is simply a depiction of him. Of him as a viscount, not him as a father."

"I see." Anthony sighed. "That portrait looks down on me every single day of my life and I have studied it until my eyes went blurry. I sometimes look to it for advice - asking what would you do? But I know that it is not our father. It is simply Viscount Bridgerton. Our father smiled, for one."

Y/N ducked her head, smiling at that. Anthony pushed himself further back onto the bed and laid down next to her. Y/N rolled into his side, still hugging the pillow.

"I remember when Daphne first began to learn the pianoforte," Anthony continued, his hand absently tracing circles on Y/N's arm, "he used to dance around the room with you. He would lift you up and let you put your feet on top of his shoes and then you would do a waltz around the room together."

Y/N closed her eyes, a few tears escaping down onto her cheeks. "I wish I had something, so I knew what he looked like in those moments."

Anthony reached down to his waistcoat and pulled his father's watch out. He grabbed Y/N's hand and gently placed the object in her palm, folding her fingers over it.

"I carry this with me everywhere I go. It reminds me of him and it reminds me that he is still here - in the little things we all do. He had this on him every day of his life, up until he died. So, whilst it is not a painting, it is still something of him when he was our father."

Y/N rubbed her thumb along the back of it where EB was engraved. She sniffed softly, carefully dabbing under eyes. "Thank you. For this and for not getting mad at me for being high."

Anthony let out a breath of laughter, resting his chin on top of his sister's head. "Technically, you were not to blame for that."

"I thought the tea tasted weird."

He laughed, pressing a kiss to her hair. "You should get some sleep," he said, preparing to move.

Y/N grabbed his wrist. "Can you stay? If you are busy, you do not -"

"Of course, I will stay," Anthony said firmly, lying back down. Y/N smiled tiredly at him and his heart ached as he caught a glimpse of eleven-year-old Y/N, clinging on to him when he returned back after being away.

"You are the best brother," Y/N told him, reaching down and pulling her duvet up and over them both.

"Well, I am the only one who did not get you high."

"Gregory had no involvement but I am sure if he had been old enough, he would have been the instigator."

"Oh, of course, he would. You know, Greg actually shares father's love of pranks."

Y/N lifted her head, looking at Anthony. "Really?"

"Mmhm. He once put glue, in Benedict's shoes. Benedict was furious, naturally..."

Anthony proceed to tell Y/N all the stories he could of their father until her eyes could stay open no more and his voice was hoarse. He knew he was never going to be his father - but he hoped that he was close enough.

[rindough]

cw. reader has a male ideal type

“so you like guys like that?”

you froze, flipping to your right to meet with the towering figure. with the white plastic poking out of the corner of his lips, satoru cocks an eyebrow, both hands in his pocket but his gaze’s fixated on the man in your phone.

tall... muscular...

with those raven locks of his alongside the small scar that adorns his lips, he could tell this man is probably the definition of a ‘dilf’. 

you switch off your phone, forcing the man to direct his attention to you.

“uh...”

to be frank, you were fine with anyone and anything. but just like most people you have the so-called ‘ideal’ look for your future lover; still everyone knows that idealness leads to nothing, it doesn’t serve much except to feed into your daydreams.

the white haired man waits, watching as you stumble along with your words before putting a hand out, stopping you dramatically with a hurt look on his face.

“aw man! i get it, you do like buff men.”

“what?!” your eyes grew wide. “no...” 

“if not, what then?” 

“just...” if you were to tell him that this man was your ideal look of your ‘boyfriend’, would it hurt his feelings? satoru might not look like one to get easily hurt by such things, but what if he’s skilled in hiding it... hearing someone indicate you’re possibly not their ideal type is surely something a little unpleasant to hear.

yet, there’s no use in lying to him. lying solves nothing either.

arms crossed, satoru adjusts his lollipop with his tongue, moving it from one corner of his lips to the other, eyebrows rising up and down. “just?”

“he’s very handsome...”

“that’s all?”

what, is he not satisfied with your answer?

“uh yea?” you question him back, looking at the side before gazing back to his blue orbs. “i mean, c’mon what do you wanna know?”

“is he your ideal type?” your heart slows down a little.

“um...” he’s really going in for the shot, huh? then fine, so be it.

“yes but no!” you spilled out quickly, a hand up to gesture for him to wait. “i’d like someone to look something like that, but i’m okay with anything.”

did he hear you correctly? no wait, he did hear you correctly.

“YES!!”

you stupidly nodded along, grinning as you close your laptop shut. okay, you thought, wait. wait a minute-

“yes?” you asked.

“hm?”

“what?” you blinked at him, heart racing at his sudden outburst. “you said ‘yes’.”

“i did?”

“what the- you did!”

“what?” he teases with a hand on the back of his ear. your heart beats louder now that his face was close to yours. at this rate others might misunderstand that you two are dating — but you aren’t! 

and satoru is very, very tempted to come nearer, his mind unintentionally goes wild, imagining thought after thought.

“gojo-san...”

what if he kissed you?

he’s darn sure no one’s in the IT lab right now, except the possibility of being walked into thanks to the open door. dare he leans a little bit closer, his voice merely a whisper. “so what if i did?”

would you reciprocate his moves? 

that was another headache for him to deal with.

he loves the way you hitched your breath, except... now he’s the one hitching his breath when you decided to play his game. 

his gaze flickers down to your lips for a brief moment at how dangerously close they are, knowing full well that another move will bring your lips to meet. 

but what happens when they do meet?

should he put all his yearning for you into that one kiss?

his thought’s cut short when you push him away by his shoulder, a breathy laughter leaving your lips now with your back facing him.

you can’t let him see your flustered face, not now anyways. 

you can’t lose — and neither can he.

want more? check out my master list!

©  2022 rindough, do not repost or plagiarize.

[pie-reads]

Triple Black

Arising from your somewhat peaceful sleep for once, you were greeted with something unexpected. Instead of waking up in your bed, in your room, under your blankets and pillows, you awoke to the sound of a city, on the ground, in an alleyway, in the dead of night. Despite the fear currently coursing through your veins and the millions of questions running through your brain, you kept it together and started walking. Searching for answers or some kind of explanation since this seemed all too real to chalk it up to 'just a dream'.

As you walked you realized that you were still in your clothes you'd worn the day prior. Being completely drained from your days events you had chosen to forgo pajamas and passed out as soon as your head hit the pillow. Something you were now truly grateful for as your pajamas left little to the imagination. You were pulled from your thoughts however when you heard commotion from one of the alleyways you passed. You would have kept walking had you not heard oddly familiar voices coming from said alleyway. As you approached you could hear the conversation more and more clearly. "Good boy Chuuya! You really got them! Wanna treat as a reward?" A tall slender man with brown, bushy hair was speaking in a mocking tone to a much shorter red headed gentlemen wearing what looked like a fedora of some sort. "Stop treating me like your damn dog Dazai!" He yelled, "Anyway let's go, I need a drink and a nap."

"Dazai...and Chuuya...If they're here, and working together..." Your gaze then turned to the pile of bodies scattered aimlessly around the men. At least 30 lay unconscious, sprawled in the alleyway. "Dark Era..." you whispered to yourself, your situation became terrifyingly clear. Not only were you somehow in Yokohama in the dead of night, but you had stumbled upon the most fearsome duo in all of the port mafia. And now you were a witness. This was it, this is how you die. Your thoughts scattered and while you were lost in these thoughts, you hadn't noticed the pair had stopped bickering and had turned to face your direction in the darkness of the alleyway.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Chuuya finally spoke, "Alright, c'mon out coward, let's get this over with already." You didn't move a muscle. Your thoughts raced. How were you going to survive this? Double Black is brutal, especially Dazai, the only thing you could hope for was that Chuuya would grant you a swift end. As he started walking towards you, you all but accepted death but- No. You weren't ready to die. Not like this. Before Chuuya could come any closer, you put on a confident façade, plastered a smirk on your face, and spoke, stepping out of the darkness.

"Chuuya Nakahara, Gravity manipulator," Chuuya was unfazed that you knew of him, more shocked that you were a woman really, but continued towards you nonetheless, "and host of Arahabaki." He froze. It's true people knew of his name and skill but...no one knew about Arahabaki, or at least they shouldn't. With Chuuya halted and a look of shock on his face, you began to walk forward and past him, being sure to keep a wide gate of course. Keeping an eye on both males you circled around them, like a lioness ready to pounce on her prey. Sure that you now had their attention, you spoke again, "Osamu Dazai, ability 'No Longer Human', youngest exec in port mafia history," he eyed you cautiously, "who wishes for nothing more to leave this world as he sees now value in this thing we call 'living'." It was Dazai's turn to be shocked now. "Together you two make up 'Double Black', the most feared duo in all of the port mafia, and for understandably good reason." You say the last part glancing at Chuuya as he starts to glow a dim red, activating his ability. You almost dare to take a step back, drop your façade out of fear, until Dazai speaks.

"Easy Chuuya, let's hear what this fine young lady has to say." He never takes his eyes off you. "So my lady, you seem to know and awful lot about us. It would be rude not to introduce yourself now." The last bit he says with a menacing smile on his face. It takes all your strength not to break the aura of confidence you've shrouded yourself in. With a smile you say, "All in due time Osamu, but first, take me to your boss, I need to have a chat with dear old Mori." A bold choice, asking to see the boss so bluntly. But if you're going to survive the Dark Era you need power and status, and Ogai will be just the man to give it to you, once he realizes how useful you'll turn out to be. At your words both men exchange a grin before turning back to you, in sync, as if reading each others minds. Truly terrifying beings.

Your confidence fails you. For half a second your façade decays and in that half a second, Chuuya's on you. In a flash he's behind you, one arm over your chest, the other restraining your arms behind your back. His face close to yours, you can feel his breath on your ear as he whispers, " As you wish love." And just like that, your out. Consciousness slipping faster than imaginable. He hoists you up and cradles you, pausing to look at Dazai who still has a grin on his face, "So what now Dazai?" Chuuya asks, holding you. "You heard her," Dazai responds, "She wants to see the boss, so who are we to deny such a precious specimen her wish?" He says while bending down to caress your cheek. "Your such a pervert Dazai, she's knocked out asshole," Chuuya says, moving away from the bandaged man with a disgusted look on his face. "Ugh I just touched her cheek Chuuya. So dirty minded." Dazai sighs and adds the last bit as he walks away, the red head following him back to HQ.

[cynettic]

I just read Kitsune reader x yan Scaramouche's fic, may I have gotten hooked on it? and of course, it's just perfect and that's why I'm here to lose a part two with nsfw, thank you in advance and understand if you refuse:3

Link to Part 1

Summary - Taking you captive, Scaramouche continues to see you as a pillar of support. Coming back home to have you there, always. Even if it meant chaining you up.

Pairings - F!Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warnings - Smut, slight noncon ( I tried to make it as consensual as possible but its difficult with yandere themes ), fingering, electricity play

Rating - NSFW

Penpal - Ahhh I'm actually beginning to get attached to this series, might end up writing a couple more posts with different hc and stuff. I hope you liked the post though, have a great day <3

A/N - The literal definition of the ‘stoic cruel boy who’s mean to everyone but you.’ Oh well, Scaramouche is ooc af, but I did change a few things in his backstory so its supposed to make sense for this story ;) Also- since we dont know Scaramouche’s actual name, I have the reader still… yknow, call him Scaramouche. Which is kinda weird cause its his harbinger name but oh well. Also, credit to @cycletr4in for proofreading it ;3

Taglist - @cursedraiden

Stay with Me pt.2

Scaramouche was a gentle captor.

In contrast to piercing eyes and harsh stares when it came to others, he had a soft spot for you. Like the ice that encased him whole melted at your touch, craving for the warmth only you could give him. For your arms around him, to play pretend and imagine he were a child, free, fearless, unbound. A child in your arms, safe and protected.

But you were held hostage, which meant that the chains around your wrists and legs held you down and secured you. Like you were bound to one spot like you’d always been, except this time you didn't have a choice.

You weren't waiting for the Kitsune Saiguu.

Hell, you didn't even have your vision.

This brought on resentment for the dark haired boy. You hated him, you despised him for holding you down under his own judgment. But at the same time, all you saw in him was a child, a little kid who hadn't had the time to grow up. The one who refused to do so because it was his only way to survive in the type of world he lived in. Hide behind that same facade he developed as a kid, snide remarks and unrelenting cruelty.

Just to come back to your arms, sobbing because he was still that child. Sobbing because he was still hurt. Sobbing because you were still his beacon of light, of hope.

He depended on you.

And as much as you built up harsh words to use against him, they dissolved in your mouth when you saw him. His vulnerability that he saved for you and you only. A deep part of you cared for him, a little too much.

Gentle fingers brushed through the locks of Scaramouche’s hair, twirling it around and playing with the strands. It was smooth, a small detail no one would have the chance to notice from the distance he put around himself and others. A quiet hum left his lips as he leaned against your chest, eyes fluttering closed against the soothing feeling of you against him.

The lavish silk sheets were soft against your skin, pillow pushing your form to sit up. Just enough to have Scaramouche in your arms, knees on either side of his body as his head rested under your chin. His chest rose and descended, almost on beat with yours, if not just a tad slower.

You hoped he wouldn't hear the way your heart thrummed against your chest.

Warmth, his body flushed against yours, the luxury of a bed and the small candlelight on your bedside. Different from what you’d grown into just on the side of the trail, sitting for decades. Or with your time with the Kitsune Saiguu, it was never this warm, never this gentle.

But this warmth ended at your beating heart, furiously blazing. Sending an urge of adrenaline through your body, whispering ‘run’ through your veins. A primal urge that would've had your hands around Scaramouche’s neck, till he was wrangling and dead.

Till you could escape.

Hand slowly sliding down his jawline, you let your gentle fingers ghost along the soft skin of his neck. Claws outstretched and ready, sharp and pointed with a deadly intent to kill. You could end him so quickly, overturn his trust and make an escape. You deserved it, you deserved freedom. Not a delusional boy who thought himself protector against someone who’s lived decades more than him.

Jolting at the sensation of a soft grip on your wrist, you watched with idle fascination as he simply cupped your wrist in his hold. Not stopping you, not restraining you, he simply brought your hand to his face. To his lips where he pressed the softest of kisses into your palm. So heartfelt and genuine that all you could do was freeze, not even considering clawing his face.

“I love you.”

You both stayed in that position for a few moments more, silence cradling the tension that slowly dissipated from your body. Forlorn eyes watching as he shift the angle of your wrist to kiss your fingertips. He wasn't waiting for an answer, basking in these soft moments where he could hide in your hold. Like a child, forced to grow up too quickly, yearning back for his foolish naivety, yearning for the childhood he missed.

You were that childhood.

Which is why he clung to you so dearly, showed expressions he didnt know he could make, hold you captive under the impression that it was ‘right.’ What he was doing was okay.

Claws retracted, you pursued your lips, holding back the tears of frustration that burned at your eyes. You hated him, hated him for the chains on your wrists, for the disappearance of your vision that you’d given so much value to. Hated him for the warmth he still made you feel.

You hated him.

You felt like a housewife in some respects. Not with the cleaning and cooking part, and of course no children were part of the equation. But in terms of support, you stayed rooted to that room, loose chains too strong for you to break or tug holding you down. Window was too far, and you were stuck moving around the bed and the desk that sat just a little farther away.

Attempts at having your vision back or more freedom in movement had been discussed with Scaramouche, but as childlike and free as he acted with you, he was not an idiot.

“I don’t plan on underestimating you,” was his answer, head resting on the plush of your chest. “You’re strong, always were. But I have to take extremes to make sure you don’t get hurt, some people out there are stronger than you.”

You wanted to point out that there were a ton of people stronger than him as well, but you kept your mouth shut. “Can I at least see the house? I’ve been cooped up here for so long…”

And he cant say no to such an innocent request as that right?

So he unlocks the chains, the vision at his side reminding you that he was strong. You solely knew that he’d been tough as a kid, and under the intensive training he’d seemed to endure, he was much much stronger. You werent willing to give it a go and lose his trust just yet.

Not like he really trusted you anyways-

At the very least, you’d hoped to get some sort of blueprint of the house, and all you’d received was confusion and your mind making up that the house itself was a maze.

“Didnt we… just pass through here?”

Glancing at the obvious frustration on your face, Scaramouche chuckled, pulling your arm through the hallways you swear you’d seen three times prior. “Nope, most of the hallways look pretty similar. The house wasn't built for dumbasses.”

You flashed him a look and were about to make some snideish rebuttal before you saw the smirk. You knew what he was doing, trying to comfort you with casual arguments you both used to have. Consisting of you telling him to work on his people skills, and him calling you a lazy ass. Of course you missed it, but you also knew you couldn't go back to it.

And then there was the issue when you learned that he was a harbinger.

A scene you didnt want to replay in your head, when a maid burst into your room, Scaramouche acting a tad more intimate. He had an awful tendency to do that, hug your waist and press his face against the crook of your neck. Press gentle kisses down the length of your shoulder that had you shuddering. You weren't used to intimacy, and considering you’d watched him grow up, it was just weird.

Stuttering, the maid had demanded that he was requested by the Tsarista. You’d seen the fear in her eyes when Scaramouche slowly turned to her, seen the unshakable immobility of standing under his gaze.

“Do not enter.” He said, “It’s on the door.”

That was the first time you’d seen Scaramouche kill.

You hoped it’d be the last.

But you’d seen death before, so much death in the time of the Kitsune Saiguu. And for a few seconds, you found yourself fearless as you yanked against the chains, yelling at his figure at the doorway.

“Tsarista?” You snarled, standing just a few feet away from him. His hand on the girls neck, clenching around the pretty skin of hers. Disgusted, the chains that held you back from closing the gap and throwing the girl away from him were impossible to overcome. “Why the hell does she need you?!”

‘Let go,’ you wanted to say. ‘Let her go, she’s going to die.’

It worked, because the ironclad grip was gone, the maid tumbling to the ground lifelessly. You’d been too late, and now her blood was on his hands, your hands. This was your fault and you had half the self control not to thrash against the chains with sharp claws, hands on his neck.

The hard steel gaze vanished in an instant, and like he’d regained his senses, he took a few steps to you. Hands clenching to fists before loosening to fingertips brushing against his palms. Confusion, regret and guilt clouded his features like a child waiting to be reprimanded. You didn't back away, stood firm and fierce when standing and keeping a tough front.

You wanted to cry.

“Its… its a long story.” He finally stated to your question, and when you didnt budge, he took a deep breath. In control again, he closed the distance between the two of you, “I’m sorry.” And that same thrum of electricity jolted through your body, sending you into a spiral of the girls lifeless eyes and Scaramouche’s childlike eyes. Till everything went black.

You woke up with the body gone. Scaramouche was gone as well.

You learned that Scaramouche liked to have things his way. Which meant that he was always in control, always had control of every situation.

Even in those short stretches of vulnerability when he rested in your arms, he still held something over you. And you had to adapt, shift for his wishes, coddle him and stay as his beacon. Because he was stronger, and even if you’d find some way to escape, he would find you.

It was odd, and you slowly let go of the image of him as a child, you knew he was a lot older. He’d probably reached the age your body was stuck in, and with every sweet kiss he pressed to your lips, you knew he saw you as some sort of lover. But as someone who wasn't in control, you simply had to play along, just until you found some way to make your escape.

Without killing him.

_-_-_-_-_

“Strip.”

Laying on one side of the bed, your eyes jolted open at the commanding voice. Slowly, you sat up, eyeing the dim figure at the doorway. Without the help of a candle or the moonlight at the window, you could distinguish Scaramouche at the doorway, taking off the large headpiece as he flung it to the ground.

“Excuse me…?” Your voice was soft, rusty after an evening nap.

“I’ll make you feel good,” was his only answer. Slowly making his way to the bedside till he could properly face you. His eyes were soft, but there was an odd sort of determination that you hadnt seen before. You held back his stare, confusion lacing your features when he suddenly started pulling off loose decorations that hung on his clothes. Just till he unlaced the vest and slid off his shirt. “Don’t worry.” But you didnt know quite what he meant until he leaned further to you, catching you off guard.

So you yelped when his hands suddenly slammed down on your shoulders, shifting you to have access to the buttons of your top layer. He was quick when undoing them, simply swatting away at your hands when you protested and tried to pull him away. Throwing it to the edge of the room when he was done, you could only thrash in horror when he undid your trousers just as quickly, pulling them down before you could grab them back up.

“Scaramouche? Hey-”

And then he threw you down on the bed, exposing you in your undergarments in the cool air of the room. Shivers crept up your spine and bristled across your skin, and before you could curl up to at the very least hide away, you felt a tug at your chains. Fear finally settled in when you saw Scaramouche attach the chain to the bedpost, until your hand was lifted up and he began to do the same to the other.

“Wait wait wait, stop and explain what you’re-”

Only then did he pause from what he was doing, slowly looking down to properly face you. His eyes slid up and down your body, and he took a step towards you. “I’ll make you feel good,” were his only words, and you were forced to take them as all he was planning on giving you. Only when he sat on the bed next to you did you realize what he meant, hand settling on your shoulder, waiting.

“Alright,” you said slowly. Painfully, the words bit your tongue, but you were merciless against someone who had control against the situation. You could say no and you knew Scaramouche would stop, he was gentle to you and you only. And even if he’d been firm just before, you knew that he’d still stop if you asked him to.

A part of you felt thrilled to have that power over him.

Another part of you just wanted to escape.

But you didnt have any hope to do so unless you were willing too give him everything. Because he expected everything and would do anything in his power to obtain it. You’d let him fiddle around with this delusion, thinking that he had control. Until he didnt.

Which is why you didnt flinch when his hand gently slid up your stomach, cold against the warmth you’d had under the blankets. Rubbing gingerly against your skin and drawing smooth shapes over before he slowly slid over your body. His eyes seemed to glint under the darkness of the room, lust filled and wanting.

You didnt shift uncomfortably, you pretended to be that doll he expected you to be.

Just staring up at him as he slowly leaned down to kiss you. His lips felt like snowflakes on a winters day, idly swaying side to side to catch one in your mouth. Jolting like electricity when they melted into your touch, red and swollen when he pulled back. You now vividly felt every touch, as if a current flowed and static jittered in the places he briefly brushed his fingertips.

“You always take such good care of me,” he breathed, lips slowly drifting down your chin. Just past your jawline and right on your neck. The space between your head and shoulder, a soft vulnerable spot that had your lips humming at the affectionate pressure. “Its my turn to take care of you.”

And then his lips were everywhere, collarbone, shoulders, cleavage. Just until his teeth were tugging off your bra, face nuzzled in between both breasts. Both of his hands now resided on your hips, grabbing both thighs to hold them up and against him. You could feel him hard, pressing so close to your heated core.

You managed to keep your reactions in check.

Just until he slowly grinded against you, mouth on your breasts as he again pecked the soft mounds, molding his lips against them as if he could remember the texture, memorize the feel. It was just to that point that mindless sounds slipped past your lips, turning to gasps when his hands on your thighs suddenly buzzed, and static rushed in. Your legs felt weak, entire body thrumming in response to the electricity he sent jolting.

He was using his vision.

The realization was numb against his lips on your breasts, hands slowly stroking the skin of your sides, travelling up. He hovered over you for mere seconds before mashing his lips against you once more, different. He was no longer gentle, and it was with the contact on your tail that you lost all control. When he gently moved it out of the way, backing up.

You were a mess.

Not that you tried to be, you’d been doing your best not to enjoy his touch. But it was hard when your core heated up so fast, mashing both legs together in hopes he wouldn't notice. You knew he would, any action beyond that was just you trying to save your dignity.

He sat there like he was enjoying the sight, the first time you’d seen him actually portray any visual confirmation of satisfaction towards the chains. He’d drink dry any ounce of control you gave him, and it was impossible not to give him it all when you were visionless and vulnerable.

But the dignity you struggled so hard to keep shattered when his hands brushed against your inner thigh.

Fingers slowly made their way to the padded fabric of your undergarments, two digits rubbing the area slowly with expertise. You bit your lip, muffling any groan of anticipation, hiding the way your hips tried to rock back into the gesture. Desperate, oh so desperate. Hiding back the whimpers as he slowly quickened the pace of his fingers against your garments. “Archons Y/n,” he murmured. “I haven't even put anything in and you’re already a squirming mess.”

“Shut u-up,” was all you managed, trying to shift away from the pressure against your clit. But his other hand was on your hip, holding in place. You could only watch and press your thighs tightly together as he slowly slid down your panties, resuming hovering over you. Distracting you with kisses, his fingers gently stroked your core, two fingers slowly sliding into your cunt using your juices.

He was gentle when pumping both fingers in and out, too slow when you thrust your hips to meet his fingers, pleading for him to go faster. But he liked hearing your cries, slowing down when you begged, quickening when you whined and just lay there, taking it.

You shuddered the first time electricity jolted from his digits.

It was when he had three fingers that he sent the static up your body, back arching with such intensity that it even had him chuckling. “Oh? You like it that much?” And then it is like something buzzed against your body, fingers vibrating against your clit as your thighs tightened around his hand. So much that you thought you’d crush it, but it didn't matter, not with the electrifying feeling against your body. It felt so odd, so overwhelmingly good that it had your legs sliding up and down the bedside, toes curling as the static grew and you fell paralyzed to his touch.

It didn't take long with his fingers thrusting in and out of you to cum. Moaning mess when he gave you the time to breathe, teeth biting your bottom lip and then mashing against yours. Your eyes grew fuzzy and most happened in a haze, and all you knew the entire time was that you’d given yourself to him, and that it felt good. You couldn't see the childlike wonder in his eyes anymore, not the need of a beacon or of support. No, the look he shared was feral, the smile tinting his lips almost scary. But it felt too good to care, and you let yourself enjoy his ministrations.

He pulled out and suddenly his own shorts were undone, boxers thrown to the side of the room just like all your other clothing. You didn't see how big he was, just felt his hard shaft against your throbbing cunt, pussy dripping and legs open wide and tired after your first go at it.

You expected him to be gentle like he’d been with his fingers. But he pressed the tip against your core, and in one full motion he was in. Teeth grinding against each other, you held back a scream, shock coursing through your body, overwhelmed with pain and discomfort. It hurt. But it was quickly overshadowed by his movements as he slid in and out of you, slow when pulling his hips back, and rocking himself completely inside you each time. A pattern that let you catch your breath and lose it all the same. Like he was continuously having a go at hitting the deepest parts of you, pulling back before fully thrusting into you and sending waves of pleasure and pain alike.

It was expected, but you couldnt hear yourself.

Not with your mind trapped in a haze of how he felt, body still buzzing after how he’d pulsed his vision through you. And now you were at the mercy of his member, hips swaying along with his, no energy for you to rock with him and try to push him deeper.

Archons, you didn't even think he could go deeper.

But you were proven wrong again and again as he kept the steady pace, hands clawing at your ass and hips. Stabilizing himself and trying to press himself against you, as far as he could go. Slowly, his hands drifted up to your hair, playing with the soft sensation of your furry ears. Pinching and rubbing, fingers coaxing the back of them like a massage. So gentle, but it paled in comparison to the harsh treatment of his dick.

You came first, gripping the chain with your hands in an attempt to stay stable. Walls clenching around him one last time before you got your release, your moans turning into cries when he continued to thrust into you. Your body felt numb, all nerves centred on the way he pounded into you, chasing his own release.

When he did, he pressed his head into your chest, his own breaths heavy with pleasure. Not pulling out, you could only lay there helplessly as his seed filled you, warm in contrast to the electricity he’d shot up your body just earlier. He didnt pull out, and laying in your chest, your heavy breathing didnt stop until he was asleep, collapsing on you and using you as support yet again.

Taking only a minute later to regain control of your senses, you shifted uncontrollably at his member inside of you, sending waves of pleasure every time you moved. Your wrists were restrained and you were stuck in this position till morning.

Achingly, you looked down at the boy, wondering how you would ever manage to escape.

[mguvmii]

Synopsis ; headcanons for Hanako with an S/o who plays guitar and has a bunch of tattoos

Requested ; n/a

Notes ; i thought this would be pretty fun to write !

Characters; Hanako ,, gn!reader no gender or pronouns specified.

Warnings ; none!

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𓏲࣪ 𓆤  ˒˒  ๑  hanako kun ﹏  . 🥡 ੭

First meeting ;

• his first impression of you was just shock. That's all he felt upon seeing you.

• Most, if not ALL of the students attending the school are simple and have no body alterations or markings.

• so you could imagine his surprise when you showed up , your arms covered in various tattoos along with a few on your thighs / legs.

• he stares. A lot. Its not his fault hes just thoroughly fascinated at the tattoos they're pretty to look at .

• he asks you about them a lot too. Why you got them, if there's a story behind it , what made you want this etc .. and of course the question 'did it hurt?'

• yeah he was pretty obsessed with you. You are just magnificent to him. You can imagine his expression when you told him you played guitar!

• demands you to show him and play something. Again , hes fascinated at how skilled you play , and the instrument itself.

• He'll sit there for HOURS listening to you play random stuff on your guitar. Its so amazing to him. His fun moments with you is when Teru storms into the room and scolds you for the music being too loud.

• Of course, he has to yell over the guitar. What causes Hanako to laugh is when you pretend you can't hear him and turn the speakers up LOUDER. Teru gets so mad 😭 it's so funny to Hanako.

• you two definitely high five each other when Teru leaves. Overall , his first few months meeting you are pretty awesome.

As his s/o

• clingy. This is so obvious. Hanako loves to hug you from the front and behind. You're so warm and comfortable to lay on! It's also how he shows his affection.

• he'll run his fingers over your tattoos, still in awe at how the ink just sits on your skin! This is like something Hanako can never wrap his mind around.

• Anyways he loves to trace your tattoos when cuddling / hugging.

• The apparition will definitely place kisses on them to show affection. He does it so gently too as if he'll mess up the tattoos 😭 it's so cute.

• you're rubbing off on him for sure , to the point where he wants a tattoo as well! He wants to match with you it's so cute.

• He'll ask if he can get one with you and pout when you remind him that he's....well...dead 😰

• but don't worry!! Good news? You actually have a friend who does tattoos in his free time who's an exorcist :)

• so you bring him over to the school just for Hanako to be happy.

• Hanako definitely picked out something space related. He's either matching a moon and spaceship tattoo , or moon and stars. It's cute okay?

• he reminds you every day of how unique and beautiful you are. He'll flirt x10 even though you two are literally together already 💀 doesn't stop him.

• Also be prepared for little inuendos and pervy comments that make you feel things. Flirt or reciprocate his pervy comments and he'll be so flustered.

• you write new guitar solos with Hanako's help! He's actually your inspiration and Hanako is more than happy to write notes. It makes him feel valid and important even though you tell him that he already is no matter what.

• he'll ask you to teach him how to play. He really wants to try they didnt really have your guitar back when he was alive. I mean , they DID, but Hanako had never seen one in person , especially one that looked ao beautiful and sleek.

• so you teach him a few riffs. His face lights up man 🤧 like stars in the eyes and a happy expression is what he has on when you let him play around with it.

• dates consist of the rooftop , your guitar, cuddles and Hanako sometimes spouting off facts about astronomy, to which you listen intently. Its as fascinating to you as a guitar is to Hanako.

• trinkets are exchanged between you! He'll bring tou music related keychains/ accessories while you bring him astronomy items!

• You two have matching bracelets that link together. Its an astronaut playing a guitar in front of the moon 😭 it's so perfect for the two of you Hanako HAD to get it.

• overall? You're just amazing to him. He's so fond of you and tells you every day. He treats you as if you're the most precious thing to him ( because you are!)

• He's never met a more unique person, one that he can call his lover. Please be with him forever and ever :( he believes that you're his soulmate .

• he secretly wishes on the stars that in another life , you two will be together forever too, happily married with a family. He sees himself with you for eternity.