#also for those that don’t know/aren’t sure:

[dizzyduck44]

So let me get this straight. This weekend

Lewis makes some sarcy comment about Lando losing the lead in the sprint.

Lando leads race start to last corner, dragging his teammates arse round in his DRS the whole way, to then gives up the win on the line against team orders.

Stewards went for a tea break during quali, arrived back for Q3.

Max gets given a single place grid drop, losing pole.

Max goes on the war path with George, squares up to him on the drivers parade, (insert swear word of choice where you think appropriate) “I hope you and your FIA buddies are happy”.

Oscar cuts the pit white line in front of Lewis and is under investigation before the cars make it to the grid. 😡

Race starts, Lewis jump starts, Lando nearly takes the lead at the first corner.

Esteban (who unbeknownst to anyone was driving his last race for Alpine) collides with Franco in the first corner.

Two corners later Lance Stroll drives into Alex and gets a 10 second penalty and 2 penalty points.

Lewis gets a 5 seconds penalty for the jump start.

Liam then gets a 10 second penalty and 2 penalty points for causing a collision.

Maybe from earlier contact Alex’s wing mirror decides to go solo and sits on the start finish straight.

FIA has a meltdown. They turn the pit straight into a disco light, yellow/green/yellow/green/yellow/green/yellow/green. Double yellow. We select double yellows. No back to single yellows. No we really think this should be a double yellow.

Meanwhile drivers are pottering around, Max is pumping in fastest laps, race continues until Valtteri takes out the mirror and makes a bad situation 30 times worse.

The FIA have to do something now right?

NO.

Because by now Max wants the world to burn and has started screaming he doesn’t think Lando lifted during the flag Hokey Cokey.

Well Max they ain’t got time to care about that, because Lewis and Carlos now have punctures.

Someone at the FIA remembers they employ a safety car driver for a reason and send him out.

Safety car goes through the pits so the debris can be moved. (This option was available to them 10 minutes earlier) and Lando nearly runs into the back of Lewis who suddenly slams on.

Calm decends for a few laps. Until. Yeah it’s Max again. “Anything from that yellow flag?” (Remember this later).

Safety car is coming in, cars seem confused about when Max will go. Max and Lando are on the radio saying the safety car lights are still on. Lando’s team tell him they aren’t.

We start racing.

Hell breaks loose.

The stewards decide that Lando didn’t lift during the double yellow, despite the fact they didn’t know what flag to put out, and it changed as he passed the sign. 10 second stop go penalty and 3 penalty points.

Now I am well aware there will have been people watching who have never even heard of this penalty. Apparently the last one given was 2018. For comparison, the FIA gave Max a 5 place grid drop for the same offence at the same track last year. The same year they allowed a tractor and Marshalls on the track in the pouring rain with no flags.

Lewis gets a second penalty, this time a drive through, again don’t see many of those, it’s normally penalty added to your race time. By now I swear they are just looking for penalties they haven’t handed out yet this weekend.

And a 10 second penalty and 2 penalty points for Alex for causing a collision as well.

Sergio also gets investigated for dangerous driving.

BUT WAIT

We then give George a 5 second penalty and a penalty point for driving too far behind the safety car.

Post race Max continues to rant about George and how he effectively begged for the grid penalty and decides now he was asking about Lando as he thought “he had got DRS from a back marker” and wanted to be sure that was why he caught up. Note earlier comments he asked TWICE about.

Lando with zero context of what the world has just seen, takes it hard and thinks he is responsible for the whole shit show.

Oscar gets given a reprimand for his earlier pit lane incident.

Ted Kravitz has confirmed that the lights on the top of the safety car did in fact go out. But the drivers can’t see them because of a spoiler on the back of the car! The ones underneath did in fact NOT go out.

AND THEN

Fans have found Ferrari might not have lifted during the double yellows either!!!!

Seriously when pissed off fans are more on top of data than the stewards, what is even the point?

The FIA need to realise they are there for the safety of the drivers, teams and spectators. This is the point the teams need to band together and address the FIA, what were you doing for 8 minutes with debris on the track? You’ve handed out one of the harshest penalties for a situation you created. Two drivers had punctures because of a situation you created.

Honestly I know Esteban won’t be on the grid in Abu Dhabi, Lewis seems to have zero motivation to do it. Unless you are McLaren, Ferrari, RB or Alpine do you even care about this race?

Seriously so many errors were made in the running of this race today I would say strike it from the record, but Zhou and Sauber got points!!!! And that would be far too cruel.

But I leave you with this thought. The FIA can stop a race and abandon it due to poor driving standards. Does this go both ways? Can drivers stop and abandon a race for poor stewarding standards? Today would have been a strong candidate.

[knavesflames]

ARLECCHINO’S HANDS

A little thing about Arlecchino’s hands I wrote while multitasking because I’m thinking thoughts and I can’t do anything about them >:( the world hates me rn

contents: hands. hands doing sexual things. I love hands could you tell. HANDS.

nsft utc!

Think about Arlecchino, a graceful yet ruthless harbinger. There is nothing but violence in the darkened palms of her hands, skin stained with the blood of those she had so viciously slaughtered once before. Said hands are taken care of meticulously, however. Manicured stiletto shaped nails painted black and red, you aren’t sure that you’ve seen her with her hands looking anything less than perfect. Even in the dirtiest, most bloody of battles, the first thing she does is wipe her hands off.

Two nails are filed down, just enough for them to be blunt. Everyone notices, nobody asks. They seem to know the answer. How could they not, when you’re always draped around her arm, looking up at her like you’d give her the world (you would) (her world is you) You’re either staring at her hands or holding them. The question of your enjoyment of them needs not to be asked.

Of course, when you’re not in public, caressing them, holding them, or staring at them, they’re holding your waist as she fucks into you with her favourite strap, her eyes piercing into yours while her breath comes in sharp pants from the effort of slamming into you, and her voice coming out in hoarse praises of “good girl”, “you sound so pretty”, and “you take my strap so well, don’t you?”, her words demanding a response from you, whether it be moaning, whimpering or babbles of confirmation and requests to keep going. Occasionally, when she’s feeling particularly kind to you, one hand will come down to allow her thumb to rub soft circles on your clit, allowing you to cum around her quicker. The sound of her hips meeting yours rings out and you could swear it drowns out the sound of her breathing.

Or, if they’re not gripping your waist, one of them is between your legs, two fingers pressing into you and curling when they reach the gummy spot inside of you that causes your legs to buckle, and one is gently pressing on your lower stomach, just to tease you a bit more, to cause more noises but to also make sure you can’t move and chase more of what she’s giving you. You get what she wants, when she wants. But you love her hands, and you love the way her palm grinds against your clit when she adds a third finger.

When she’s feeling particularly frustrated, for whatever reason, she enjoys wrapping said hand around your pretty throat, squeezing at little intervals to remind who truly controls you (at least in that moment, anyway). She enjoys watching your breathless smile and your stifled moans, and absolutely adores the way your face changes and contorts when you reach your orgasm thanks to her skilled digits constantly working inside of you and her thumb rubbing circles on your puffy clit the way she knows has you trembling within seconds.

You adore her hands, and the many ways you can make use of them.

[cheust]

You get isekaid/transmigrated into the batfam as the neglected child but instead of being lowkey and sneaky with trying to figure out how to get home, you grab a pot and a wooden spoon and start screaming down their hallway while beating the pot to get their attention.

You’ve read the manhwa! You know the “they’re different! We must love and cherish them now!” Trope and guess what? You have no time for that. You want to go home and you want to go home now.

Also what if you get neglected siblings memories and just start doing psychological warfare because eff them, that’s what they get, what are they gonna do? Oh and your favorite target? Alfred. No not Bruce, not the batboys or girls, but Alfred. After all, he did have the power to integrate og sibling into the family but didn’t, and you see that. You see how he cares enough to comfort og sibling but not care enough to actually change their reality. It pisses you off, naturally.

—*—*—*—*—*—*—*—

You sit at the kitchen counter, watching Alfred as he prepares dinner for Bat and Birds. He was oddly, in your opinion, at peace. At peace in the kitchen as he organized the ingredients, prepared the recipes with so much thought and care to each member of the family, keeping their dietary needs and preferences in mind. Did he ever put that much care into the original person whose body you’re in? You bitterly doubt it.

“You’re quiet this evening, young master.” Alfred hummed while he worked. You didn’t like that, how he called you ‘young master’ like you were apart of their lives. Like he knew you. Just how easy was the original to replace to them?? Did they mean nothing to the one who actually attempted to raise them?

You lose your appetite instantly.

“Don’t call me that, Pennyworth. You know I’m here temporarily.” You were trying to be polite tonight, hell some would say even nice.

You made it clear within the first hour of being in the young Wayne’ body that you did not belong in it, did not want to stay in it or be apart of their lives. Some might say you were having too strong of a reaction, or being mean for no reason, but that’s not how you saw it. You saw the memories your host had of those people. Even your hosts body still remembers. Muscle memory you suppose. It’s the only explanation as to why you shook with such terror and nausea at being in the same room as that rude 12 year old. Why it trembled with such joy when the patriarch, Bruce, placed his hand on your host’s shoulder, promising you that they’ll watch after you until you are returned home.

It’s disturbing, feeling such strong feelings that you know aren’t your own, especially for these… creatures.

“You seem quite sure about that, young one. Have you made any progress in your search?” Alfred asked as he chopped some arugula for a salad. Weighting your options on whether or not you tell the truth, you chose to lie. It’s not like he really deserved the truth.

“No.. it’s all gibberish to me.” You said as you reached over the counter and grabbed a slice of cheese to eat. You felt awful for your host, so desperate to prove their worth that they were sloppy, unfocused.

Your host didn’t die, they accidentally switched places with you while trying to prove to their family that they were strong and skilled enough to help, you knew that they were hoping that if they proved themselves that they’d finally be seen, finally be listened to. You hated how you could feel their hope in those thoughts. You hated it more when you realized that the hope that your host held onto with their whole being was as shallow as a drop of rain.

But the truth was you understood most of it, the ritual, the ingredients, the intent was what got messed up. A ritual to gain what your heart desires. Your host’s wrote that their intent was to gain power to be able to work alongside the vigilantes, but you can safely assume that their heart had different desires. A desire to be gone from the Bats and Birds, you guessed. That’s what you would want, but you can’t be to sure.

“Well, maybe Master Bruce can contact some of his colleagues.” Alfred offered with a gentle smile, it was the same he’d wear to help placate your host. The knot in your stomach twisted tighter in discomfort and disgust. The cheese turning bitter in your mouth.

“Yeah. I’m sure his colleagues are reliable…” you lean back in your chair, staring into Alfred’s sharp eyes. Both of you knowing that you were both testing and watching the other. “Let’s hope they are reliable as you are with Mr. Wayne, Pennyworth. Let’s truly hope.”

—*—*—*—*—*—

I hope y’all enjoyed this! Sorry for the typos and characters being OOC! First time truly writing something for the public

[superhoeva]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 (𝐨𝐧𝐞)

prisoners!ghoap x civilian!reader x ex-cons!pricegaz | your small sleepy town has never been enough for you. maybe that’s what makes it so easy for inmate soap, his cellmate ghost, ad their friends on the outside to convince you to help sneak them out of prison. (w/c: 1.2k)

warnings include language, dark themes, prisoners!ghoap, unprotected sex (wrap it in real life), bit of an age gap between reader and 141 (late 20s/30s and 40s), bodily fluids (mentioned), soap and ghost work in the tailoring room, improper/taboo relationships (prisoner/worker), cheating, manipulative!ghoap, submissive!f!em!reader, loser boyfriend behaviors (you'll see), illegal activities, violence (mentioned). +18/mdni

full masterlist

The claps are almost loud enough to creep under the crack in the door. Almost… thankfully Soap has perfected the art of fucking you in the back of the sewing room closet. Quick, punchy thrusts at just the right angle to yank an orgasm from the both of you. He pierces himself inside you, and your pussy pulses hard around his thick member that spurts out spells of cum that you’ll hold onto for the rest of the day.

You barely contain the whimpers that want to spill from you.

“Oh, whit I wouldn’t give tae hear those bonny sounds out loud, little miss,” Johnny whisper hot, lips brushing the back of your ear messily. He kisses the spot before pulling out of you with a grunt he has to cover with a cough.

He gives your bare hip one more pat, squeezing the skin for a quick moment before hurrying to raise his pants. You feel a heated gaze on your backside as you bend to pull your panties and pants back into place. A rush of heat rewires you once again, as you can feel the load attempt to seep from your whole. You squeeze with a bitten lip and slight shudder, turning to face Soap but able to meet his eyes. The man puffs his chest in a stretch, smirking at you with a smug rub of his stomach.

You sure are something, aren’t you? Letting him fuck you raw in the place he’s supposed to spend the rest of his life, and you can’t even look that sweet gaze at him. The inmate knows the two of you don’t have much time left but takes a few long seconds to up-and-down you anyways.

Finally, Soap steps forward. Sways in his stand, his pointer finger coming to lull your gaze to him while the rough pad of his thumb drags just across your chin. He makes sure not to speak until you’re really looking at him.

“See ye out there, huh?”

Soap’s tongue dips from his mouth, wetting his lip with a pretty shine. He has to hold back a chuckle at how slow you nod for him.

“Stay sweet, hen,” he sniffs, and you almost flinch at how fast the cool air returns to you at the removal of his hand. You clear your throat, gathering yourself as you grab your clipboard and  follow him back into the tailoring room.

Ignoring whatever eyes are on you, your legs are still a little shaky when you walk yourself back to your seat at the front of the room. You fail in your attempt to not let your eyes glaze back over to Soap, who’s also just making it back to his assigned chair. He collapses in the seat with a breath, scratching the back of his head.

It’s when your stare floats to the man next to him–a mass of muscles and a hard face that you don’t think you’ve seen crack anything close to a smile–that you pause. You’re stuck in a stupid stare, watching and squirming in your seat when they catch eyes with each other. Their silent conversation is loud. It screams right into your face, and you wonder so hard what they could possibly be talking about that it makes your head hurt.

Is it bad you want it to be you?

~

“Grape or blue raspberry? Or cherry, maybe?”

Soap. An odd name you’ve wondered about since he was placed in your section. And his mohawk. Does he cut it himself? Or get another inmate to do it?

Ghost. A mystery in a half, you’ve found. Never speaks. Looks at you funny… a different kind of funny than Soap but still funny.

“Hey.”

A blink of your stinging eyes brings you right back to the gas station dining room booth. He’s sitting in front of you, forgetting about the different options of flavored ice on the laminated menu before him. The stare he places on you is hard to sit with, and you feel the guilt working its way up your throat in the form of bile.

Rocky’s eyebrows do his speaking for him when they pinch together as he leans toward you.

“Don’t want an icee,” you finally mumble, a little rude. Rocky seems more concerned than offended, nodding with visible hesitation. He stays in his quiet while you slide away the menu to rub at your eyes. “Not that thirsty anymore, actually.”

“Oh. That’s fine.” your fiance blinks, pausing for a moment. “Did… did something happen at work?”

“Something always happens at work, it’s a fucking correctiinal facility.”

Rocky blinks again, trying not to brisk at the harshness of your voice. Swallowing, he shifts. “You know, I still don’t like you working there. In that place. With all those jerks.”

Jerks. That’s the best he can come up with?

“So you’ve said,” you sass back, wishing it was morning already. Morning means that Rocky’s already out of the house before you’re waking up. Morning means you start a new day of work and get to see the way Inmate Soap’s chest and biceps bulge in his prison uniform. Morning means another chance that Inmate Simon might speak to you. “Can we go home now?”

Rocky throws his head to the side in dissapointment, pouting childishly. “We didn’t even get anything yet.”

“Get it to-go, then,” you instruct him, yanking yourself from the booth to make a b-line to the truck with a dissatisfied shake of your head.

Inmate Soap would treat you better than this. Take you somewhere nicer than a goddamn gas station dining room for your anniversary. And you know what? So would Inmate Ghost. Even if he doesn’t speak…

~

Dinner is the usual. Sloppy but edible.

“Same sad meal,” Soap sighs, dropping his spoon so that it crashes into his tray of half-eaten food. He stares at Ghost through his eyelashes before his face brightens with a smirk. Voice lowering, Soap leans. “Wish I was eatin’ her, instead.”

Ghost has to pause in his chewing of the mushy carrots they were served this evening. It’s a miracle the fork in his hand doesn’t break at how hard Simon comes to clench it.

“‘M tellin’ you, Si,” Soap shakes his head with a rub of his chin, face hazy. “Pussy’s hotter than th’ sun. Would live inside there, ‘f I could…”

“Stop speakin’,” Simon rumbles out, and Soap shakes with a delighted giggle.

“Jus’ sayin’,” Soap shrugs, gathering his spoon back up to pick at the leftover food. “Bet she’d, ah, let ye have a taste, too. Sweet thing… even got those sad eyes ye like. Which you would notice if you’d speak to the lass–”

“Shut the fuck up, Mactavish.”

Simon’s voice catches the attention of a few surrounding inmates, who know not to question what’s wrong. Not if they want to get their head bashed in by an angry Simon Riley. If they only knew it wasn’t anger coursing through his vein, but a healthy dose of blood running down to his cock that’s making him like this. He resettles in his seat, ignoring the way Johnny’s looking at him, and giving a good palm to readjust his now-leaking cock. Biting his tongue, he can’t help but clench all his muscles at how right Johnny is.

You would taste a hell of a lot better than this sad excuse of a meal.

(next part) - © 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[temis-de-leon]

When they don't know you as well as they thought they did

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

C/W: the boys are crushing on MC and it's implied MC is crushing as well, but there isn't any established relationship. Just friends feeling things for their friend, very common. Self-insert, perhaps?

A/N: this is just fluff, very silly, a little ooc maybe, but I'm not sure. I just wanted to make something fun and lighthearted after the recent news.

.

No one is surprised anymore at the firmness the brothers speak with when they call you part of the family. Between the pacts and the unsolicited free therapy, it’s only fair, and only an idiot wouldn’t be able to see the affection running through the House of Lamentation.

Still, there are instances every once in a while where, although it’s difficult at the beginning, the boys have no other choice but to accept the fact that you have a completely different life back in the human world and they may not know you as good as they would like.

It starts with the small things; embarrassing conversations where their ignorance gets you to laugh like a maniac more than a couple of times. There they are, blushing in self-consciousness while you cackle uncontrollably because they believed some urban legend about a faceless suited man with freakishly long arms.

Then, slowly, but surely, it turns into more personal things about you, like your irrational, downright, phobia of lizards or the fictional characters you’re surprisingly attracted to.

(Some of those aren’t human, which makes them all feel a strong sense of hope, but you don’t need to know that).

The brothers learn about your studies, favourite subjects and what you’d like to do with your future, even if it sounds hopeless or unlikely. They also keep every bit of information about your friends and family; little comments that you let go here and there and help them understand why you are someone they love so much.

The whole situation evolves in such a way that inviting them to your birthday party in the human realm seems to be the obvious next step.

‘It’s so I can celebrate it with all my loved ones’ you say, and they really can’t deny your offer after that.

So, after a few awkward introductions and half-truths about their origin, everyone is happily talking to each other and eagerly waiting for their turn to be with you.

.

Lucifer, who has had a special interest in your family for a while, finds himself chuckling in understanding when your mother complains about the occasional mess in your room. In your defence, he feels obligated to partially throw his brothers under the bus and blame them for keeping you in a constant state of disarray, but then she says something that… perplexes him.

You don’t like perfection? His eyes open wide at the revelation and your mother chuckles, misinterpreting his expression. She doesn’t know who he really is or what he represents, after all.

Just how vast is the veracity of that statement? Does it refer only to a state of mind or do you apply it to everything else?

Thankfully, he doesn’t have time to feel too anxious before he remembers the little details. When your triumphal smile shone in the dimness of his room that time he made a silly mistake in chess, ultimately granting you the win; or when the Anti-Lucifer League managed to leave his hair unkempt for an entire day, which got you to shamelessly look at him for longer than any of his younger brothers would’ve ever liked.

Not being perfect isn’t something he would ever do consciously and he had always found solace in the fact that you like him despite his mistakes. However, knowing you actually like him because of those mistakes? Perhaps letting those cracks show in his façade isn’t so bad as long as it is for you.

.

Not far from him, Mammon chats with your human best friend. There’s an air of competitiveness between them, both wanting to be the ultimate best friend, but it all stays light-hearted. There’s no real threat when Mammon gets to be your first demon, you know? It’s a unique position!

But he still makes sure to assert dominance by stating he would’ve made the perfect party for you, better than the one you’re currently enjoying; with food and decorations from the Devildom and the Celestial realm included, matching outfits and, of course, keeping everything hidden so you can have the best surprise of your life. He had thrown a lot of those with Asmo’s help back home, so he knows you love them!

Or he thinks you do, at least.

Your friend sniggers harmlessly when they hear that last part, pointing at him with an infuriating smartass attitude, and immediately shatters Mammon’s reality.

What the heck do they mean, you don’t like surprise parties? He’d done a lot of those back at the Devildom and you’d never complained, appreciative as you are, even helping him do the same for other’s birthday parties!

Sure, you had always looked dumbfounded by the loud cheering and the confetti after stepping through the door, but that was part of the fun… right? You would tell him if you wanted him to stop, wouldn’t you?

He feels a pang in his heart when the idea of you being uncomfortable for his sake appears in his mind, but it doesn’t make sense. While you undeniably treat him better than anyone else in all of the realms, you still correct him when you see fit and him making you unhappy on your own birthday would be one of those occasions.

He trusts you to confide in him when things are wrong just as much as you trust him to do his best. That’s what friends are for, after all.

.

And where else would Levi be if not hidden in a corner playing with his DDD?

He had tried mingling with people at the party, or at least tried hanging around them, he swears, but conversations became repetitive and boring and then he received a notification for a daily reward from one of his apps, so, of course, he had to sit down to collect it. Then minutes passed as he completed minigames to power up his cards and… you get the idea.

So when a friend of yours walked towards him, complimenting the pins and badges on his bag and the faint music coming out of his headphones, sure, the evening started going way smoother.

He talks enthusiastically, just like any other time his interests are mentioned, wildly gesturing with his hands and letting the little bubble around them be full of their eager exchange. However, a casual lament from his companion stops him right in his tracks.

It’s a shame you don’t like anime…? His first reaction is to laugh, enumerating everything you’d watched, and later commented on, with him under a blanket in the tranquillity of his room, but the utter surprise in your friend’s face leaves him speechless.

You really don’t like it? But… But he’s made you see so many things! Did you like any of them? Did you lie to his face when you said you enjoyed them? He would’ve never chosen a best friend like that; you were not like that and he refused to believe the contrary.

Also, would a liar buy merch on their own like you did? Would they watch the best episodes again or listen to the soundtrack on repeat when they had a bad day? This new revelation only makes him aware he was the one to change your perspective of the fine arts and he’s damn proud of that.

You are still getting an earful when you get back home, though.

.

Satan thinks the kid is a young cousin of yours, but he really hasn’t been paying attention to anything in a long while. How could he, when the enthusiastic toddler had taken their mother’s phone just to show him the family cat’s pictures and videos?

A Mackerel tabby cat, too chubby for his own good but not enough to be actually concerning; playing with feathers, blinking slowly, bumping his head against legs and shoulders, meowing sweetly and, basically, opening his heart in half and making it roam inside his chest like a butterfly.

What a good party.

He mentions all the stray cats behind his house, obviously leaving behind the name of the House of Lamentation and the Devildom, and all the times you’ve gone with him to feed them and play. Satan even shows pictures on his DDD and stops with an adoring expression when you appear on the screen, sitting on your toes with a kitty on your knees and smiling past the camera, straight at Satan.

However, what he hears next takes the air right out of his lungs. He sits down and clutches his pearls and the kid stares at him in anxious confusion, clearly witnessing but not understanding the severity of his distress.

Who, in their right mind, doesn’t like cats?

He remembers the first few times you had accompanied him to his route, intimidated and slightly lingering behind. Initially, he had assumed it was due to the novelty of your friendship or a possible fear of Devildom fauna, but nothing against cats!

Were you afraid of them or just plain uninterested? Why keep going with him if you weren’t as fond of them as he thought you were? Wouldn’t it be because of him, would it?

A warm feeling covers him like a blanket, makes him search for you with his eyes and then immediately blush when you excitedly wave at him, point at the kid and mouth ‘Cute cat!’

Yeah. Very cute.

.

On the other hand, Asmo hangs out with the people responsible for the decorations of the party and compliments them on their work. The colours are well-coordinated, there’s nothing out of place and the distribution was thought with all the guests in mind.

Although he hasn’t been able to help in that regard, he’s made sure you would be the centre of attention that evening; a complicated feature coming from him, but he had never minded sharing the main spot just as long as you were the one by his side; and everyone knows that.

You look cute and pretty and hot in your outfit, a style that both compliments and pleases you. You also worked together in your makeup for hours before getting to the party.

However, taking that much time might have been due to scrolling through social media and gossiping so much, but never mind that. Everyone agrees you look incredible and that is more than enough for him.

It isn’t until one of your friends mentions how weird it is to see you wearing makeup that he dares take his eyes away from you to stare at them in disbelief.

He would’ve never guessed that given that one of your favourite pastimes together is makeup as a whole: going shopping, watching tutorials, following trends, doing your own next to each other, doing each other’s… And, even if he wants to use it, his charming power is useless against you, so he knows you do your makeup because you want to and not because you feel forced by him.

Whether it’s something you share because you enjoy it or something you enjoy because you share it with him, he isn’t sure, but he can swear on his precious damned soul that makeup isn’t a need for you.

It’s just a bonus to your beauty.

.

Sitting at one of the tables, Beel is simultaneously talking to your older sibling while gulping down an entire plate of bite-sized snacks; thankfully, whatever apprehension anyone felt at his hunger died hours ago and now the conversation flowed more naturally, mainly centred around you.

As much as he loves having you near him and his brothers in the House of Lamentation and thinking of you as another member of the family, he is very interested in knowing how your human family is, especially your siblings. It’s another way of relating to you and making him feel closer.

Plus, he gets to know stories from your childhood you may never tell him on your own; anecdotes that will stay at the table he is currently sharing with your sibling.

Unfortunately, they reach a point where, although he wants to keep asking questions about you, doing so with a mouth full of food might end up with Lucifer’s scolding of the year. Also, he really wants to make a good impression.

So your sibling begins asking the questions. Surprisingly, they start with his tattoo; dark red curling around his muscles and almost going unnoticed under the colours of dusk. Beel smiles without giving it any importance because it really doesn’t have it, but forces himself to stop gulping down food when your sibling throws a fun fact about you.

You find tattoos attractive?

He feels an instant burning on his cheeks followed by the rapid beating of his heart and a knot in his stomach, but there’s also a faint unpleasant sour taste in his mouth.

You’ve never asked him about his tattoo, barely sparing a glance at it when you worked out together or he took off his jacket.

He wonders if you don’t like it or if you think it doesn’t look good on him because all he can remember is the focused look in your eyes while looking at his and the curve of your smile growing bigger as you listen to whatever he says, even when it is entirely about food, and…

You know what? He doesn’t really mind. He is fine with things as they are.

.

As both a friend of yours and a fellow younger brother, Belphie respects your sibling’s decision to spill your darkest secrets and thoroughly enjoys the air of comradery between them.

Don’t worry, he won’t let it go past actual serious matters; if you want him to know any of that, he’d rather have you telling him yourself when you’re ready and not get betrayed by your sibling. Silly and harmless pieces of information, however? Those are more than welcome.

And he already has a favourite.

You need to hug plushies to sleep? Tell him more. He doesn’t judge you for feeling the need to hug toys or pillows while sleeping. Actually, he understands.

Do you have a favourite? Is it in the human realm or is it in your room back at the House of Lamentation? While he can recall seeing that ugly zombie iguana on your bed, he’s never seen you cuddling it while sleeping and, other than that, he doesn’t remember seeing one, so he wonders if you hide it somewhere when you know he’s going to your room; but what about those times he enters uninvited?

Does that mean you left your preferred plushie in your room in the human realm? Does that mean that you don’t actually need to hug anything to sleep?

Whenever you share a bed, which is pretty frequent, Belphie can sense an invisible barrier between you that he’s dying to break. It’s nothing physical, given that only he knows how truly comfortable your lap and your chest are, but it’s obvious in the way your hands hesitate to bring him closer.

Shy and indecisive, while you don’t reject his advances, he’s still unsure what your feelings on the matter are. He’d initially thought you weren’t used to having anything so close to you while sleeping, but… now… Maybe he has to assure you that you can hug him as hard as you want.

Belphie is just as good as any plushie, after all; if not better.

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[khorazir]

“Do you think I should release them? The danger has passed, and they have been tied up like this for over an hour now.”

“Oh, I don’t know, mate. They’ve stopped arguing a while ago, and now they’re just staring at each other. Give them another half an hour, and they’ll start kissing.”

“Kissing?”

“Sure. Look at them. Totally gone for one another, but too stupid or set in their ways to realise it. Guess they’re gonna need all the help they can get. Unlike us.”

“Unlike us?”

“Yeah. Took you a trip to America to figure things out, and me a couple of months after that.”

“After about thirty-five years of quasi courtship, you mean?”

“Yeah. Brills, innit?”

***

“Sherlock, are they still there?”

“Yes, and not even trying to hide. They probably think we can’t see them.”

“I’m still somewhat shocked that we can. But then, given that we’ve both had near-death experiences at some point in our lives ... Anyway, anything you can do about this ... thing tying us together?”

“As I’ve told you before, John, no, I can’t. It’s clearly magical, a binding spell of some sort.”

“There must be a way to break it.”

“Aren’t you happy that we’re returned to our traditional way to spend Christmas Eve?”

“What ‘traditional way’? Being tied up together in some God-forsaken place?”

“Exactly. Wouldn’t be Christmas without it, would it now?”

“Haha, yes, guess not. And those two chaps over there are ... what? The ghosts of Christmas Past and ... Christmas Even Longer Past come to haunt us?”

“Perhaps. We could ask them to undo the spell. I’m rather convinced it was cast by the Edwardian schoolboy.”

“Oh, right. Actually ... you know what, Sherlock?”

“Hm?”

“We also could ... you know ... wait a little. Because it’s tradition.”

“I was hoping you would say that, John.”

_____

This is for @paynelandpromptfest Day 1

It’s also this year’s Christmas Card. Those who have been following me for a while know the drill: if you would like to be sent one, please DM me and do a little charitable thing in and for your community. Previous card motifs (and accompanying ficlets) can be found here:

1. Fairylights (2019, ficlet)

2. Reindeers (2020, ficlet)

3. Spice (2021, ficlet)

4. Bridge (2022, ficlet)

5. Cold (2023, ficlet)

[kindaasrikal]

Cole and Nya’s relationship is very special to me, even despite the love triangle thing, which you could technically say helped develop their relationship. Especially with how it links to their mothers.

Cole and Nya are both familiar with loss, specifically in regard to their parents. They both lost a parent(s) at a young age, and quickly became independent because of it. They learnt how to survive on their own without depending too much on their only family left. They both care deeply for the ones they love and are sensitive to their emotions, and when they were left with only Lou/Kai as their only family, they didn’t want to rely on two people deep in grief and were deeply effected by that loss.

They both are stubborn and sure, protective and confident, but they are both also soft and kind underneath all their layers, Cole showing that more than Nya.

I like to think that while the whole love triangle thing and love machine fiasco was annoying, you could actually twist it to show how it developed their relationship. Jay is the one Nya loves, that is not something you can change or even disagree on, seeing as she was willing to lose everything that makes her her for him, but the perfect match machine doesn’t have time be explicitly based on romantic interest. The machine is essentially like a ‘soulmate finder’, so it’s easy to say that one of Nya’s soulmates are Cole.

Soulmates have been shown in many different ways, and in this case its not showing a soulmate in the sense of a ‘one true pair’ or someone who you are inexplicably tied too, but someone who understands and can click with you a whole lot easier than most.

That buddied up with the whole love triangle thing definitely helped Cole and Nya realise how similar they are to each other, and how they deeply care for each other as siblings. Almost like twin siblings if I’m being honest. They don’t give a younger and older sibling vibe thats for sure. More like two twins where one is an aggressive wild animal and the other is also a wild animal but they don’t have as much of a temper as the other weirdo.

My favourite scene of their relationship is in Dragons Rising where Nya hold her hands against Cole’s cheek after not seeing him for months upon months.

Now about their mothers….

Knowing all of this, connecting it to how they both see their mother in each other seems so much more special.

Cole and Maya have both said ‘Its how the cookie crumbles’, both in relation to Nya. After Nya was possessed by the overlord, Cole tries to comfort everyone by saying that line, implying how its just how things must be, the same way Maya has towards Nya specifically, telling her that life is difficult, no matter what we try. Nya doesn’t know they both have said this, but its still so important how its come in full circle towards her, from her beginning all the way to her supposed end.

And then you remember how both Nya and Lily have worn the same kimono. The same kimono Lily wore, and the one that Cole gave to Nya.

ITS THE EXACT SAME.

Cole willingly gave him dead mother’s kimono to Nya, his sister.

Nya and Cole were never supposed to be in a romantic relationship, they were both have such a strong platonic love for each other it hurts. They both have similar experiences and similar personalities yet still have their differences, but those differences aren’t as big as most people would’ve expected.

I love these two so much they so deeply care for each other im going to cry i hope they don’t die for Jay.

[starkeygirls]

i n v i s i b l e s t r i n g

chapter 2

rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: still working on writing this well - we'll get there when we get there.

wc: 4.1k

warning: none!

a/n: well, i wrote this whole chapter to hate it, start over and then still not be 100% happy with this one. hope this is at least okay! thank you all so much for taking time to read my silly little re-write! as always, please show your appreciation with reblog/comments/etc (reminder that it's really helpful to those who write ◡̈ )

______________________________________________________________

Thoughts swirled in your head as you laid in your bed, seemingly sending flirty texts to none other than Rafe Cameron. The same Rafe Cameron that spilled beer on you without apologizing. Rafe Cameron, who seemed to fight your friends at every opportunity he could - with or without a reason. The Rafe Cameron who ended up being the reason your commission was so good during a dud week. 

What the fuck were you doing? Watching as the three dots type and turn into a message, one that had the corner of your lips pulled up as you read it. Disgusting. 

You two didn’t speak after that. 

Waking up the following morning, you didn’t respond, and he never double texted. Better off that way, you thought. And it was solidified as you thought back to the party last night. 

You paid no mind to the boy who walked along the beach like he owned it. Your eyes didn’t look for his in the crowd, and you couldn’t help the huff that escaped your lips as he cut you in line for a refill on beer. 

Your head was pounding as you regretted nearly every thought you had to agree going to the party. Your sunglasses hadn’t left your face since you entered work, the lights were far too bright, the music was far too loud, and each and every customer was far too annoying. Typically, Saturday was your favorite day to work, but this was brutal. A part of you almost hoping that your boss would pop in and send you home for being out of dress code. 

JJ’s voice rang through the small shop, your name echoing off the walls and piercing your hungover ears. Pulling yourself from the back room, your eyes rolled behind your sunglasses as he came into sight. 

“You’re so fucking lucky there aren’t any customers in here?” You spat, also happy your shift mate was out grabbing lunch. 

“That’s no way to greet someone in this fine establishment.” JJ teased, eyebrow raising as he turned his attention to the clothing hung neatly in place, pulling it from the rack and holding it up to his body. “What’s the verdict? Fashion icon?” 

“The verdict is you would never buy that because it costs more than a day of work and you would stain it two hours.” You conveniently left out that it was a skirt he was mistaking for a tube top, there really wasn’t a thought in his brain. A giggle escaped your lips as you watched his eyes widen as he looked at the price tag, promptly putting it back on the rack and attempting to smooth it out as if he had never touched it. 

“Anyway,” he started nearing closer to you, taking a glance around the small shop. “We were all meeting up at the dock, we were going to chill, drink some beers, swim a little. When do you get off? It’s clearly extremely lively in here, a real bustling shop.. Would be a shame if you closed early.” His shoulders shrugged, smile tugging on his lips as his brows raised. 

“You know I can’t just close early. I don’t have the power to do that.”

“Please, you’re like vice president here and you work every day, you could pull some strings with Big O.” Your lips pulled into a small smile as you shook your head. 

“I’m assistant manager, I have plenty of days off - in fact, my last day off you were too busy hooking up with some tourist to hangout, might I add, and Mrs. Overton would not like you calling her ‘Big O’, or like if I closed early.” Jeez, when did you become such a buzzkill? After your third hour of being hungover, that was for sure. JJ’s bottom lip jutted out, you wouldn’t shut him down without a fight and he wouldn’t leave willingly without seeing a text to your boss with the request. 

– 

Sitting on the side of the boat as John B drove, you assumed when JJ said “we” he hadn’t meant Kiara, Pope and Cleo, but instead, you found yourself with only JJ and John B. 

“I can’t believe I convinced my boss to close early to hangout with you two..” 

“I have such a way with words.” JJ’s cocky tone was enough to make you roll your eyes and send a middle finger in his direction. In reality, YOU had a way with words. The way you respectfully pointed out that sales had been down that day, in fact, they had been down the last few weeks. If you were able to leave, you could showcase what was on the floor in person, and you would be able to show up to your shift tomorrow with a new outlook on the sales for the week. You strategically left out your raging hangover, that was neither here nor there. Mrs. Overton quickly agreed, saying you needed to enjoy one of the last beautiful Saturdays of the summer before Autumn came in. She was too sweet for her own good. 

“Did you notice Topper didn’t even look at me last night? Sarah was with me-”

“She was hanging on you.” You corrected, JJ reaching out to tap knuckles with you as John B cut the engine, dropping anchor in the middle of the marsh.

“Whatever, we were talking the whole night, and Topper didn’t make a single comment, no dirty looks, nothing.”

“Rafe and Kelce didn’t try anything last night, either.” JJ added quickly, peering over the sunglasses that covered his eyes as he cracked open a beer. You shooed it away as he offered it in your direction. 

“Yeah well, Rafe cut me in line for a beer.” Shoulders shrugging, attempting to grasp at any bit of normalcy from the interaction you and Rafe hadn’t even shared.

“Well shit, call Shoupe. How dare he!” John B teased, JJ quickly laughing at the comment. 

“Why did I agree to hangout with you two today?” Tone teasing, but they were lucky your hangover was dwindling as the time went on. 

“Because we’re your best friends.” John B’s voice was a matter of fact, shoulders shrugging. 

“Maybe Sarah had a talk with them. If you’re seeing her, I can’t see why she would let her brother and his friends fight with you guys.” There was a small murmur amongst the three of you, clearly that must’ve been the answer, right? You were just happy JJ had dropped the teasing he had been giving you, and happy he didn’t know about your late night texting - it still felt like a fever dream.

– 

Floorset day.

It was the worst day, right ahead of shipment day. Having to unpack all of the new clothes, unwrap them, put them in size order and backstock was a nightmare. But you would rather do that than completely rearrange the store and dress mannequins. 

You were fighting with a mannequin arm to try and put it back in its socket, you had already been whacked in the head, nearly tackled by a plastic person, and now you were standing with an arm between your legs, trying to shove the other one on. Letting out a huff as you continued to struggle, you heard the ding of the door. Of course someone had to come in right now. It’s always how it happened. Always when you were on the ladder changing a light bulb, or fighting with the mannequins- they couldn’t just wait ten more minutes to buy some overpriced clothes. Pulling the mannequin arm out of the polo shirt, you placed it on the table, turning to look at the door and who had just come in. 

“Hi! Welcome in! I apologize for the-” You stopped, eyes glancing over Rafe who was looking right at you. Pulling your hair that had clung to your lipgloss, you stumbled over your words. “Uh- apologize for the mess. We just got in some new items.” Taking a deep breath, you smiled. “Let me know if I can help you with anything.” 

He was alone, and if it wasn’t for his behavior, you would have written it off, and turned your attention back to the mannequin, back to the ipad with how the floor needed to be set up. And despite your best efforts to pull yourself from the thoughts of Rafe Cameron that consumed and confused your mind, you couldn’t help but watch as he moved around the store. An internal fight broke out inside of you, wanting to just let the kook do whatever it is he came here for. He had already picked up his items- he came in empty handed so he wasn’t returning anything. Hell, you had told him to let you know if there was anything you could help him with, so why were you still watching? 

You hadn’t seen him in a few days, your last interaction, if you could even call it that, was at the party a few days ago. No texts, not that you really expected any- it wasn’t like you had previously texted him on a regular basis. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to walk in on you manhandling your boyfriend.” He smiled. And you swore your heartbeat picked up. What the hell was going on with you? Distance makes the heart grow fonder or whatever bullshit Shakespear would have said? Your life was not some cheesy romance movie. 

“It’s okay, I prefer when I have an audience. I think it teaches him more of a lesson.” His lips pulled further into a grin, looking down to the floor in an almost attempt to hide his reaction. He paused by the rack of new items you had gotten in the day prior, eyes flickering to you as if silently asking if he was allowed to look through the racks. “Wait, actually there’s something we got in and I thought of you when I opened it.” You pulled the mannequin arm from between your legs, heels clicking as you stepped closer to him. 

“You thought of me?” His brows raised and you felt a heat take over your face. You did what you did best and ignored his question, eyes trailing down the rack as your finger lightly ghosted each piece of clothing until you pulled the sweater out. 

“So this is similar to that shirt you got before, but the fabric is a little thicker for when it gets colder. This color is a good transition color for going into fall, but-” You paused, pulling out another color. “This one is going to let you transition from fall into winter with the deeper tone. Not to mention you can put a button up underneath it to dress it up and also give you another layer. The style is also going to last you a while since it’s a staple piece, and if you like the color enough, it doesn’t matter what colors are in, you know?” You could feel his eyes on you instead of the sweaters you had pulled out, but once your sales side came out, there was no shoving her away. This is what you were good at, it was how you made bigger commission checks. “I noticed you wear more bright colors when you’re out during the day, assuming the country club? And then you wear darker when you’re with friends or at a party. And don’t flatter yourself with me saying I take note of these things, I like clothes. Anyway, you’re obviously not going to wear this sweater out with your friends or anything like that, it’s cashmere and wool- you would be sweating but I don’t know if you’re really going for pink sweater vibes either.” You grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards the second rack. “I think this striped one is so nice. The navy and white stripes but not all the way up? It’s nautical but also just yells fall, paired with some brown pants-” You stopped yourself, almost embarrassed with how much you had rambled. 

You watched as Rafe’s blue eyes scanned the clothing you had tossed his way, along with the newest sweater you had brought his attention to. 

“New shoes I bought have navy on ‘em, right?” His brows furrowed, turning his attention to you. Your face perked up a bit. 

“They do, and if you have the plain white, which everyone on The Eight does,” you paused, pulling at the original sweater you had shown him. “This would go, obviously because they’re white. They go with everything.” 

---

You weren’t entirely sure how it happened, but Rafe was now helping you shove the arm onto the mannequin. He had bought almost all of your recommendations, despite the brown pants you reassured would be a good choice. He had nearly laughed in your face, but said he would be back if needed. He would be back when he realized you were right.

“So you’re the only one here today?” The brunet asked, a popping sound happening from the mannequin before he slowly released the arm, it staying in place on the torso. You nodded, arms up, ready to catch the arm should it fall. 

“Yeah, they trust me to run the store?” You laughed, shaking your head as the concept still baffled you. Lowering your arms, you smoothed out your blouse, running your fingers through your hair as you looked around the store. It wasn’t perfect, but it was getting near the end of the day and the last thing you wanted to do was start another project and stay later than you needed to. “I’m not supposed to be the only one working since I lock up and could obviously take something, but I think my boss knows I need the money and I would be dumb to steal and lose my job.” 

He nodded, taking a seat on the arm of a chair. Looking lost in thought, your own mind began to wander. The hour or so you had just spent with Rafe was actually… nice. Throwing different clothes his way, laughing as he huffed in the fitting room, mumbling a few “absolutely not’s” and rolling his eyes as he came out in a few of the ‘older’ styles, as you called them. He had even convinced you to try on a few outfits, and you couldn’t help but laugh at one of the combos he had chosen. You both laughed until your stomachs hurt.

It was almost domestic in a way, like the two of you had been friends for years. If you were being honest, the past drama, or whatever it had been was nowhere near on your mind. The way your friends teased you, the way Rafe and his friends had caused more trouble than good in your lives - the only thing you felt was happiness. You never expected to find yourself laughing with Rafe Cameron, never expected to have anywhere near a good time with him.

And now you found yourself locking up the shop, Rafe waiting for you outside as you set the alarm code and locking the back door. Your heels clicked along the cement, and with the fresh air hitting you, that’s when what you were doing really hit you. You were going to be seen out in public with a kook. Not just any kook, but Rafe Cameron. He seemed sure of it, had rattled off the two of you going to Duke’s a small restaurant that you had heard had amazing food, not that you could ever convince any of your friends to go. You accepted without much of a second thought. 

But the second thought was hitting now. 

“Did you want to put your things in your car?” Hands fumbling to put your keys in your purse and grip onto your sunglasses. He nodded as you slid your sunglasses on, he followed your motions, take his own off his head and covering his eyes with the shades. Following him to his car, you slid your phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’. While a small bit of worry was coursing through your veins at the thought of getting dinner with Rafe, the last thing you needed was your friends bothering you- or figuring out where you were and making fun of you for actually giving him the time of day.

“You look nice today, you know.” Rafe’s voice was casual as he tossed the large bags into the backseat of his Range Rover. 2022 you assumed, maybe 2020, but there was no way it was any older than four years old. Despite the people you imagined getting in and out of it, it still faintly smelt like new car. You wondered how he kept the smell lingering around for so long. “You looked nice the other day, too. But I don’t know if cashmere is really something you should be wearing in the summer. You’ll sweat.” Oh, so he wanted to tease you now about what you had said to him earlier? Eyes rolling at his comment, you couldn’t help the corner of your lips pulling into a bit of a smile. 

“It’s August, Cameron. It’s basically fall, and it was feather cashmere, anyway.” Your hand waved him off, a light giggle escaping your lips. “But thank you. I’m usually fighting the mannequin in a skirt or dress, but I learned this time.” 

“You mean to tell me that Paul puts up a fight every time?” Of course he remembered you telling him how you had named all the mannequins, because why wouldn’t he? How could he possibly make himself anymore desirable in the moment? He couldn’t- you were sure of it. 

It pained you, if you were being honest. The way he effortlessly made you laugh, and the way you were able to tease each other, firing back at one another. It reminded you of your nights with the pogues, though the sexual comments were yet to be found. He was actually respectful, which surprised you. Was it because he was alone? Why was he alone? Were you just some last resort when all of his friends were busy? You couldn’t think of that right now, no matter the reason, you had already spent time with him, you had already had a good time. You had already agreed to dinner. 

–

Dinner had taken longer than you had expected- but it wasn’t in a bad way. You had actually learned a lot about Rafe, which was something you never thought you would say. That he’s a lefty golfer, which was a bit weird since he was a righty. You learned that despite living in Kildare his entire life, he didn’t have his boating license, and he was allergic to strawberries. You learned he was in the process of helping his dad with his company, but he couldn’t quite get all the trust he had hoped for.

Your cheeks hurt from how long you had been smiling. When was the last time you had smiled that much? You couldn’t exactly pinpoint it, not that it really mattered. 

He smacked away your card as you attempted to tell the waitress to split the bill, a huff escaping your lips as you glared towards him. “I could have paid, you know. At least half.” 

“Could have, but aren’t going to.” He said simply, flashing you a toothy grin. 

“Well, I’ll leave the tip then.” 

“Or, you could let me handle it.” 

A huff escaped your lips, sliding the card back into your wallet, arms crossed against your chest. His lips pulled into a grin as he watched you admit defeat, your motions mimicking that of a child who didn’t get their way. 

“Contrary to popular belief, we can actually pay for our own meals.” Your words were sour as they left your lips, feeling a sense of pity radiate off of him. His brows had furrowed. “If this was some charity case it can stop here.” 

“Woah, woah.” Rafe’s hands found themselves up, confused at this sudden attack after a meal spent with laughter and aching cheeks from smiles. “I seemed to have missed where I insulted you? I think you left the station and took a hard left because where did I insinuate that you couldn’t pay?” 

“When you decided to not even let me tip.”

“I did that as a kind gesture.” He added quickly. “Do you always attack people after they pay for your meal?” 

“Only when they don’t let me tip.” 

“Then I look forward to more arguments in the future.” 

His words shocked you, your hands getting clammy at the thought of seeing him again, of sharing a dinner table with him again. A part of you believed this was just a nice gesture after spending some time together, surely he had just gotten hungry and decided to invite you along as opposed to eating alone. 

Perhaps you were wrong. 

“Thank you.” You finally mumbled, eyes meeting his. Suddenly your rings were the most interesting thing on the planet, toying with them on your fingers as you felt embarrassment creep up at your outburst, though also feeling a flush creep on your cheeks. Thankfully, the restaurant was dimly lit and you were certain Rafe wasn’t able to see the effect of his words. More arguments in the future, please.

The walk to your car was once again filled with laughter and teasing, something that you hadn’t been sure would be possible with someone like Rafe, someone who had always been so different from you and your friends. Someone who didn’t seem to understand the world you came from - not that you could understand his world any easier. As much of a facade as you put up in your fancy clothes, you were still from The Cut. You still had to work, and work hard at that, for everything that came your way. 

But there was something easy about being with Rafe - not that you would admit that to him or your friends. Ever. 

“Well, thanks for the clothing recommendations, still honored you thought about me as you pulled them out of the boxes.” You pushed his shoulder slightly at his words, a small ‘oh please’ mumbled under your breath at his words. “And I’m grateful the server took the knives away before I refused to let you pay.” 

Reaching for your keys, you rolled your eyes at his remembrance of your outburst, you proclamation that yet again, there was a clear line in the sand from where you both stood on the island. That line in the sand becoming more apparent, yet again, as you unlocked your car which was strikingly different from Rafe’s flashy one. He didn’t mention it, but thoughts were once again flying rampant around your mind at just how different the two of you were. 

“No, no. Thank you. I wouldn’t have been able to get that arm on without you, and I’ve dying to eat at Dukes. Really, thank you.” Your words were sincere, and Rafe was almost caught off guard by your lack of jokes. He kept it cool, as he had the whole time you spoke to him, in fact, as he had every time you spoke to him the last few days. A part of you wondered if that was just who he was, or if he was better at hiding his emotions than he lead on - at least with your friends. 

As the two of you approached your car, you half waited for him to lean against the door, for the two of you to keep speaking for another hour. And a part of you almost wanted it. 

“See you around?” He offered, an easy exit. 

“See you around.” You confirmed, reality creeping in as you watched him nod, tapping the top of your car. Rafe offered you a simple ‘get home safe’ before turning on his heels and heading in the direction of his car. 

Climbing into your car, you sat there for a moment, the whole day swirling around your head. You drove home with the radio on low, still trying to understand how you had really ended up at dinner with Rafe in the first case. 

Not a date. You kept repeating to yourself, because while you had known of Rafe Cameron all your life, the Rafe Cameron that had sat across from you at dinner was brand new. Pulling into your driveway and making your way to your room, you finally pulled your phone from your bag, taking it off Do Not Disturb. Your phone flooded with messages from your friends, but none from him.

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

taglist: @p0gue420@khaisdrz@marrleyss@sadgirlxangel@alorsxsturn @hoelesslyt @mattyskies @percysley @eolsens @saintsir4n @honeybee270

[gibsongirlsundaymorning]

After all this time… (Night Two, Part One)

A/N: Part 2 is going to be uploaded in 2 parts- here’s the first! Hope you like it, please comment anything you want to see in the future!! 😊

Synopsis: You come home with your childhood best friends, Billy and Tommy during your break at college, and instead of going to your own house, you stay at theirs with them and their mother… who you’ve had a huge crush on since before you can remember. As the visit goes on, you find it more and more torturous with your forced proximity and how she only seems to get more beautiful as the years pass. (READ PART ONE TO UNDERSTAND HOW THIS PICKS UP)

Warnings: More and more tension, seriously insane tension, pet names, milf!Wanda to the max.

Pairing: Mom!Wanda x Student!Reader (fem)

The next morning, you woke to the sound of Wanda’s voice at your door, but much different than the night before. “You awake, hon?” She called into your room. Eager to see the woman’s face and regain her approval after the way she left you last night, you sprung out of the bed and opened the door. Cold air hit you quickly, making you suddenly very aware of the skimpy pajamas you’d worn to bed, but the woman’s traveling gaze made your skin burn once again. “This is cute… must be cold though, huh?” You cross your arms over your chest at this in a mix of embarrassment and the flustered feeling her words and eyes brought to you.

“Oh, I usually don’t wear much to bed, I layer up a ton of blankets, sorry.” You trail off at the end of the sentence with a giggle and look down to your feet. A finger finds itself under your chin once again and forces you to make eye contact with Wanda, on of her eyebrows slightly lifted as she sucks her teeth with a slight tsk as she speaks to you once again. “You know I’m not upset, right?”

“For what I’m wearing? Well, I wasn’t sure, but I was hoping you wouldn’t find it inappropriate or anything- I was planning on changing before I left the room and everything!” She laughs at this, and you’re not sure whether it’s endearing or mocking. “No, honey, that’s not what I was talking about, but I’m certainly not upset about this cute little get up. But I was talking about last night. I know we split on a more… stern note from myself, but I wanted you to know I’m not upset. Just had to put you in your place a bit. I know you’re such a smart girl, but you won’t be having a smart mouth with me, alright?”

“Yes, Ms. Maximoff, and I’m so sorry, I really wasn’t thinking at all… To be honest, I also don’t really ever drink, so I think I was just a little bit off all night. I really am sorry, and I didn’t mean to snap at all.” She smiles brightly at your response. “So eager to please, aren’t you?” You can’t help but nod. “Well then, we’ll forget all about it, ok? But call me Wanda. And don’t make me tell you again.” She points at you with those last words, but you know she’s saying it in a lighthearted manner when her serious look fades into a big smile and she pulls you into a hug. Maybe you’d be able to get through these couple of days after all!

In fact, after you had breakfast with all 3 Maximoffs, Wanda announced that she was off to a hair appointment, leaving you alone with the boys to catch up for the day. Shortly after she left, Billy and Tommy filed into their car and pulled you in after them before speeding off to an arcade on the other side of town.

After a few hours of playing various games and being sucked into the hypnosis of a claw machine built to make the player fail, dropping the plush toys in the glass case at the very last second before you could reap the prize, you headed back towards their home, hitting many thrift stores and any random places that looked fun on the way back.

After pulling back into the driveway, Wanda’s car sitting in the adjacent spot reminds you very quickly of her presence after your short period of forgetfulness. When you three walked in the front door, your senses were once again overridden with the warm, floral presence of your friends’ mother, your cheeks graced nearly immediately by a bright blush as she looks you up and down as she greets you. “Hi, guys! How was it?” She turns to you specifically, “I see someone likes to shop, huh?”

You look down at the immense number of shopping bags in your hands, not realizing before how many had accumulated over your trip until now, also noticing the way the handles were digging into your hands as you drop a few by the hallway that leads to your and Wanda’s rooms. She drops her taunting tone and reaches out for your hands to see why you’re wincing in their direction. “You alright?”

“Oh, yeah, just the handles, I’m all good. I do really like to shop when I’m in town, you’re right about that much.” You laugh lightly.

“Well, if you three don’t have something planned for tomorrow, would you boys mind if I take Y/N up to the big mall in the center of town? I don’t want you two driving that far, and besides, I think your uncle wanted to take you out to lunch while you’re home.” The boys shrug and turn back to their bags of new (old) hats and comics. “Sure, whatever!”

She turns back to you with a cocked eyebrow. “You up for it?” You nod a bit too quickly. She laughs at your eagerness and nods in confirmation of the plans. “Alright, it’s a date then!” Her wording was criminally torturous and she had to know it. Desperate to change the topic, you nod to her hair, which was gathered in a towel atop her head. “I thought you were going out to get your hair done? Did they not shampoo you and all there?” She looks up and laughs as if she had forgotten her own actions. “I always rewash my hair after I get a new cut or color- It’s very stubborn and other people just don’t know how to deal with it, so I redo the styling after every appointment.” You nod in acknowledgement before noting that yours was the same way.

She hums in thought. “I never remembered your hair being too difficult, honey. Wasn’t I the one who taught you how to braid your hair?” You chew on your cheeks at the memories that were now flooding back. “Yeah, you were. I’m still not sure how you managed that, no one else has ever been able to do anything with my hair…”

She smirks at the sound of that before saying “Well, I guess I just know how to tame your stubbornness, huh? Sometimes it just takes a certain touch.” You’re not sure how you hadn’t melted into a puddle by the time she reached out to a lock of your hair and raked her fingers through it, lightly pulling when she got to the end. It was impossible to tell if this was on purpose or not, but you knew for certain that she caught the way you lightly gasped at and leaned into the tug, her eyes immediately darkening and snapping to your own before she brought her hand back to her own person. She gives you just a bit of mercy when she turns halfway to the boys.

“Hey, I think we should go out into town for dinner tonight because… I don’t feel like cooking. We’ll all leave in about an hour, so you should all start thinking about getting into some nice-ish clothes, alright?” The boys nod and head up to their room, you and Wanda going back to your own.

Sorting through your bags and not finding much to suit the occasion, you settle on your go-to jeans and a soft, form-fitting black top. You top it off with a few necklaces and replaces your bottom studs with hoop earrings, spray a nicer perfume, and throw some light makeup on. When you step out of your room at the same time as Wanda, you’re first startled by the synchronization and then left speechless by her effortless beauty.

She’s styled her new haircut, which perfectly frames her face with feathery bangs and a few shaggy layers. It’s young cut that brings out the older woman’s youthful energy and makes you want to drop to your knees in front of her.

Aside from that, she’s chosen a light and dewy style of makeup- a light brushing of mascara and peachy blush kissing her cheeks, bringing out her naturally dramatic cheekbones- and a classy outfit that affected you greatly despite its simplicity: a low-cut black tank bodysuit and straight-cut dark wash jeans. “Looks like we’re matching, sweet girl. How did that work itself out?” She taunts, and your eyes wander to the way slight crows feet announce themselves in the corners of her eyes while she flashes you a smile that makes your head spin.

“I guess great minds think alike, Mrs. Maximoff.” You say the first thing that comes to mind, the rest of your brain short-circuiting at the sight of the woman. She calmly saunters forward just a step, closing the gap between you and forcing you to tilt your head upwards as the additional height created by her black high-heeled boots. As she crosses her arms just below her chest, though, you feel your eyes falter and fall down on instinct. “No, eyes up.” She speaks in a familiarly stern tone, and you look up, biting down on your bottom lip as a flustered warmth covers your face. “And I’m not going to tell you again, little girl,” she brings her thumb up to your chin and drags your lip out of the painful reach of your teeth, “call. Me. Wanda.” Her head is now tilted a bit to the side, her eyes fixed on your bottom lip as it regains color, studying the marks your teeth left on them.

She continues speaking, though this time with a sickly sweet quality, her tone softer now. “And ‘great minds,’ really? I know I tell you you’re my smart girl, but you seem to think I’m yours. Am I right about that, honey?” Your chest rises and falls quickly as your heart rate and breaths quicken at her teasing words.

“You’re… yes, you’re incredibly intelligent, ma’am.” You wince and correct yourself. “Wanda.” She sighs and pushes her tongue into her cheek before talking again.

“No, no, I think ‘ma’am’ is okay, actually. You can have that one. But you didn’t answer my question. Do you think of me as your smart girl?” Your mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, but no words come out. “Well?”

Your head falls along with your gaze once again, the sight of her soft skin and exposed chest does no help to your efforts to grasp for words. Just when she takes her signature hold on your jaw and forces your eyes to lock with her own, Tommy calls out for her, followed by Billy. The boys were waiting impatiently to leave, minds driven by hunger.

Her grip softens and her eyes drop to the ground as she chuckles. Looking at you once again, she leans forward and lets her lips ghost the shell of your ear as she whispers, “Saved by the bell. Lucky girl.” She pulls back and turns on her heels, disappearing into the doorframe of her room before coming out once more, having produced an oversized denim jacket matching her jeans. “Can’t have you staring at me like that in front of the boys, now can we?” She asks as she rests one hand on your shoulder, letting it run across your chest as she walks towards the front door.

…………………………………………………………………………

Part one of night two! I hope to have the ending of this part out by tomorrow night. I apologize for my slow uploading schedule, but I want to build the tension in this story the right way and put as much detail in as possible :) Let me know what you think and leave any requests as always! ❤️

Tags: @dandelions4us @bees-for-brains @scxrlett-wid0w @ahintofchaos @rosekjsses @lonliestafterparty @chlondykebar @mommywandas @w1theredroz3 @bella423 @mrsromanovaa @watashiwaglr38

[arvandus]

Ok more thoughts on Dabi’s ending…

Like I’m not even mad about him dying, honestly. I get that his story has always been one riddled in tragedy. I love tragic characters so tragic endings sorta come with the package (still crying over the ending for Loki season 2).

I appreciate, from a literary standpoint, the impact of dying by one’s own rage. Of letting that hurt and anger literally consume you until there’s practically nothing left of you. I see that that is what they were going for with him, and that part is FINE. Sad as fuck, but not shocking, not surprising.

The issue I have with it is the context and overall messaging. The fact that Dabi dies but Endeavor doesn’t; I’m not even saying that Enji needed to die, and he does get permanently injured and has to give up hero work. BUT the fact that Enji, the abuser and the source of so many people’s pain, not only lives but gets to still have the support of at least some of his family (Natsuo, I love you baby!) leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

I think it’s because I’ve never found Enji’s redemption very convincing. I’m not saying this in a “he’s evil and has no soul” sort of way, but it’s more in the fact that his actions have always been rooted in cowardice and ego. The fact that Enji gives up being a hero because he got injured in battle rather than giving up being a hero willingly because it was the very thing that made him so toxic and awful to begin with… meh. Not to mention he still had his son face off with his other son instead of confronting him directly. He still dilly dallied and never went searching for Touya after their initial conflict and reveal even though Shouto wanted to. That’s what I mean when I say Enji’s redemption was half-assed. He was too much of a coward and too focused on being a hero to the masses instead of being a father to his children and that never changed for him. So did he realize what he did in the past was wrong? Yes. Did he feel bad about it? Sure. Did he take the appropriate steps to right past wrongs? No. No he fucking didn’t. Too little, too late.

But it’s not just about Enji. It’s also the hopelessness that’s communicated by Shouto failing to save his brother and never have soba with him in the end. And it’s a message of hopelessness that’s communicated with Toga and Shigaraki’s deaths as well. I don’t know if they we’re going for a “loss of innocence/you can’t save everyone” sort of vibe as a part of the student characters growing up into adults, but it still just made it all feel sort of… pointless in the end. And that pointlessness was emphasized even more by how unmoved they all seemed to be in the aftermath/ending of the story. Not really much mourning, not really much regret. Add to that that the overall status quo seems to be maintained, and really it feels as if nothing has changed; nothing has gotten better (even though supposedly it has??).

I dunno. Take what I say with a grain of salt cuz I haven’t read the ending and I’ve gotten the info from tumblr screenshots. But I’m tired and don’t have it in me to pick it back up again. If the characters are going to die, that’s fine, but make it meaningful, make it worth it, make it cataclysmic in the ushering in of a better world. Give me systems of support within the society to help people in need, people with dangerous quirks. Give me a dismantling of the popularity aspect of heroism, because a system built on the monetization and entertainment cannot also be a moral system. Show me how you’re addressing the toxicity of hero worship, how you’re dismantling the pedestals so that quirkless children aren’t bullied and heroes aren’t driven to madness in the fight to the top.

If you can’t give me those things, then what’s the point. It’s just more of the same. Your story gave us nothing.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I know I just sent an ask regarding the Miss Raven relationship post, but I saw the scrapped Yuus one and I wanted to ask smth related (⁠⇀⁠‸⁠↼⁠‶⁠) sorry if two asks in a row are too much in this regard too!

first of all I LOVE YOUR STYLE 😭 it's so cute, I always get excited when you post art. and it's so interesting to get to see a part of your creative process in making characters, even if they didn't end up existing. ( THE ONEE-SAN YUU... Miss Raven was saved from falling for another charming smile... and so were the rest of us )

in regard to ocs, I wanted to ask... do you have any other twst ocs? I think I read some old posts about some RSA ocs, but I wanted to ask specifically if there's another "big" one in terms of story/being as fleshed out as Miss Raven 🧐 or if you ever plan to make another Big Oc™️ in terms of lore like u did for her

also... I wanted to ask... now that you finished her main story, is there any other long form (?) stories you want to explore with her? I know you're hosting the future!au event rn, and you've written more side stories (?) about her in similar events... but I mean as in- again, a longer sort of story. I'm just genuinely curious, since I really like your work + her specifically and I'm curious about whatever you have planned for her 👀 but ofc it's totally okay if you have other plans orrr if you'd prefer to let the heavy Raven lore rest for a bit!!

[Referencing this post and this blog event; the asker’s Miss Raven relationships ask is here.]

adskjblfabfqyovf OTL Thanks??? I get anxious about posting my art because its usually hand drawn, non-committal sketches 💦 I personally really like reading about other people's creative processes so I tend to scribble notes all over my drawings, and then they get all messy and cluttered... I'm glad you like them regardless though.

I like drawing Onee-san!Yuu’s art eyes and hair… She is very dainty and cute! Her personality is fun to toy with too, since how she acts and how she’s truly feeling are so starkly different. I’ve thought about her so many times, it’s almost like she’s psychically reaching out to me in an attempt to have me formally implement her 😂 Again though, not sure if I’ll ever settle on a Yuu because the concept of a Yuu does not really interest me.

Aaaah, my RSA OCs were back from like 2020-2021. I never did manage to flesh them out and I think I’ve lost the fire to. I have several NRC OCs that I haven’t shared because they aren’t that fleshed out either. Of those, I think my favorite is my twisted!Iago (who is in part also inspired by my own pet)… He’s just a punk ass (first year Scarabia) kid and Jamil’s self-proclaimed minion (Jamil has no idea who he is).

Ironically, I think the most detailed NRC OCs I have at the moment are the three based on mob students:

Even then, I don’t think they’re super deep… Pome A can be summarized as "ex-delinquent who now has the goal of becoming 'a gentleman'" (similar to Deuce, who wants to be an honors student). Scarab B is basically a Jamil fan boy (though he's less angry/pushy about it than Sebek is; he has more eager puppy energy). The most detailed one of the bunch is Octa A, who is very anxious (Idia-sh) due to being sorted into Octavinelle, where his dorm members are constant sources of stress. Outside of that, he's a very... homely "boy next door" type. I picture him coming from a tightly knit island town and helping out his family at a community center where they help people find jobs that best suit them. (If you couldn't tell, a lot of Octa A's backstory is inspired by the Lilo and Stitch animated series.) The mob student OCs were conceived because I thought it would be funny to sometimes write from the perspective of unrelated onlookers watching all of the crazy stuff that happens on NRC campus and just going, "What, AGAIN????" They feel more like unserious gag characters, if anything.

I have actually considered writing a sequel to the Tale of the Cursed Raven for the longest time! If you've read the original tale, Vil, Azul, and Idia play prominent roles throughout it. The second saga would theoretically give the other dorm leaders (Malleus, Leona, Kalim, and Riddle) importance. Note that 3 out of 4 of the dorm leaders in the latter group are nobles or have noble relatives. That's because the (potential) sequel would involve themes of social status and who gets to shape the future. A-And hey, maybe it could focus on Raven's relationship with L*ona instead of J word this time-- The synopsis is as follows: Having finally broken her curse, Raven Crowley is now free to live as she wishes in a happily ever after of her own making... or is she? One day, a strange invitation arrives from an unknown sender, beckoning her to Briar Valley. Amid whispers of Malleus Draconia's ascension to the throne and a grand ball to decide the dragon's bride-to-be, the timing is certainly strange. "This is far too suspicious," she thinks. "I simply won't go." Then a sparkling carriage pulls up to the gates of Night Raven College, claiming to be looking for a princess in black feathers. Accompanying that carriage are two men cloaked in white and a woman that shines like starlight.

"Who are you?" Raven asks, feeling as though they've met before in some distant past. "Why, I'm your Fairy Godmother. I'm here to make all of your dreams come true."

Perhaps this meeting was always meant to be.

(I WANT TO BE CLEAR: despite how the synopsis sounds, it is NOT meant to be Raven x Malleus. I would appreciate it if readers refrained from discussing this topic, please and thank you.)

As you can probably tell by that 💦 the story sounds very ambitious... and unfortunately, I don't feel comfortable writing it because we're still missing so much from the canon main story. I'd like the OB Malleus and Grim arcs to complete so I understand the full scope of the story and how the loose ends are tied up (particularly Malleus's reaction post-OB and how, if at all, he embraces change). More lore on dragon fae would be helpful as well. I'd also ideally like a Briar Valley hometown event so I can see what the culture, traditions, people, politics, etc. are like before I attempt to depict it in my writing.

In this sequel, there would be many OCs introduced--at least 4 of them! I've been cooking a lot behind the scenes ^^ One of these OCs you've actually met in the original tale; it would be the Enchantress (Estella) that originally cursed the Storyteller. 2 of the other OCs are what I would describe as Estella's helpers, who are meant to be her equivalent to Silver and Sebek. One is inspired by the concept of the “messenger dove + dove with the olive branch” and the other is inspired by Swan Lake. The 4th and final OC is basically all but confirmed would be a foil character to Malleus, an ambitious nobleman twisted from Nerissa (the villain from Enchanted).

Here’s some doodles I have of the 4 OCs I mentioned! The first two are “the dove” and “the swan”, respectively. The bottom two are concepts for twisted!Nerissa and Estella.

This sequel would expand more on Estella's motives and background (something I mentioned in my afterthoughts), as well as tie in history and political intrigue as Raven’s forced to navigate those circles. It would most likely be set a year or so in the future, and the events that take place would inform Raven’s internship decision in her fourth year. (She would be a scribe in Briar Valley!) I’d like part II to feel like a story event that supplements or follows up on the development in part I/the main story.

xbjsbsjsjsb Anyway 🤡 That’s all I feel okay with revealing for now. I want to be clear and reiterate that this is all just a theoretical sequel and I’m not sure if I’ll actually get around to writing it. It’s definitely been fun to conceptualize though ^^

I’ll leave you with this concept art:

[aquariitheorchid]

Okay. Trigun headcannon time.

TRISTAMP

Vash gets horrible phantom pains in his missing arm. I don’t think pain killers, or whatever helps phantom pains, would be common in No Man’s Land. Especially for Independents. Brad and Luida make sure he has some for when the pain is bad. It took a lot of trail and error before they figured out what worked for him. (He rarely takes them as a form of self-self harm, thinking that deep down, he deserves the pain.)

Meryl has family in November and is the first in her family to graduate from college. They’re so proud of her but are worried for her.

Wolfwood has horrible depth perception when out of combat. Singling the Punisher is fine, it’s what he trained to do but reaching for a glass? He can mask it somewhat well. It’s from the accelerated growth. He’s not entirely used to his new body, in some manners. He ‘grows’ out of it.

Knives and Vash don’t sweat like humans do. They don’t have BO. If you get close enough to either, they don’t smell at all. Vash uses some very light cologne to mask this occasionally.

Meryl has PTSD after Julai. She gets nightmares here and there but the brunt of it is any bright light, red object, or crater in the sand causes flashbacks. She’s almost crashed the car/trailer here and there. They grew more manageable with time, but the nightmares persist.

Knives, after he cut off Vash’s arm, contemplated if he was really doing the right thing. It was brief, only for a moment. The screams of his sisters, Tesla, and the words of the Plant Technicians that day struck him out of it fast.

Wolfwood canNOT drink beer. This man is a whiskey guy.

Meryl keeps a little bottle of the kind of alcohol Roberto likes in the glovebox. If she has the cash and is in the area, she’ll leave a larger one at the memorial site. (She’s spent more time there than you’d imagine. It was painful at first, but as almost like exposure therapy, she found a thin veil of peace there. It helped her deal with the hallucinations. ‘This is how things are, how they played out. This is where. Those mirages aren’t real’).

Roberto was a lady’s man when he was younger.

Wolfwood is some flavor of trans. Same with Vash.

Zazie learned what pranks are from over hearing humans in the early days. It’s where they also picked up human language. Anyway, Zazie has played a lot of pranks on unsuspecting humans. Some of them on Eye of Micheal members once they became affiliated. No one knows it was them besides Elendira.

Zazie changes appearance here and there, not majorly, just subtle shifts. Staring at them is uncanny at times.

The PLANTs all each have their own personality. If you ask one of the nicer techs, they can tell you a PLANTs specific personality. It’s all from very subtle body language and energy readings.

PLANTs are all connected to the higher plane, they can feel when one of their sisters die. They all also felt Knives be injured and whatever the fuck he was doing during episodes 11-12.

Independent plants have fangs.

Independent Plants have uncanny intuition.

Knives is one of those pretentious music bros. Expect he hates all human music. So it’s all only his composed music. Which all pretentiousness about his own music is internal. He doesn’t speak about it to anyone. (Two sided beef but he’s both sides?)

Legato’s arm plate thing has human skull material somewhere in it. It may not be visible but it’s there.

The Eye of Micheal recruits all of their lackeys and foot men from poor, impoverished areas. They are extremely predatory and manipulative.

The Hopeland orphanage was founded in the early days with no ill intentions but the sinners took it over and later fully branded it to be part of the Eye of Micheal.

Livio/Razlo get an autoimmune condition from the experiments later in life. Idk which one but I’m feeling something with his joints and tendons. The Eye of Micheal could not give a shit about it. As long as he is still useful.

Livio dissociates for days on time. He barely has any hobbies when with the Eye of Micheal. He picks up puzzles once he gets out and starts healing. It’s something for his hands to do.

Tesla haunts the Eye of Micheal facility. You can see very, very faint glimpses of her around corners, in the operating room, or the cells. She’s not too happy with what’s going on.

I’m gonna add more later. This is what I have cooked for now.

[zei-ord]

ok this is quite literally late night ramblings but i was thinking about Taash, and the … interesting… writing choices around their multicultural identity which, while maybe intended to be a choice between following tradition/expectations vs doing what allows you to express yourself, ended up as some strange rivain/qun dichotomy that i found strange (and ironically binary for a story about a character learning about themself as a nonbinary individual). i was wondering why the writing even felt the need to force us to make this choice between one or the other, before realising that other companions also have this dichotomous choice as a key part of their story.

emmrich, obviously, is the choice between lichdom and manfred (and tbh probably the best written version of this forced choice)

davrin is the choice for what to do with the griffons

harding is choosing between the titans anger and her own identity/compassion

lucanis is choosing whether or not to work with spite, i’m pretty sure

neve’s is about the lengths she’ll go to to protect dock town (i think? it’s like - do what is necessary, even if it’s morally wrong, or do the ‘right’ thing and be a hero? plz correct me if i’m wrong)

bellara … i actually don’t know. her story is essentially about her brother, but she doesn’t really have any agency about what he does? i could be wrong. if anyone has an idea/remembers what her choice is, plz lmk

all this to say, i was just ruminating on how the characters are written, and then there’s this clear formula that they’ve imposed on all the character stories which… aren’t all executed successfully to the same extent. i’d have to explore the individual character stories a little more, but i feel these choices are somewhat reflective of how well the character’s individual plot lines were written, or, at the very least, how those plot lines were adapted for gameplay.

[pixel-axel]

purpled school sketches week FIFTEEN!! (any writing is in the alt text/image description cause ik i have messy handwriting)

cpurp and dogchamp :)

drawings that i did to impress the guy sitting next to me in math cause we changed seats (also to excuse the fact that i can’t do basic math)

if someone gets the reference ily

practicing my (extremely sparse) french skills!!

psych class gets interesting sometimes

both based off of true stories that happened to be (we were having a class wide discussion and i really wanted to say something (especially since we were talking about antisemitism and like. i’m jewish) no one gave me any time to speak so i was waiting for SO LONG) (n the fire alarm went off when i was walking into math and i just. Sat Down n started doing work)

we got a green paper and i immediately took advantage of it (you could barely see it was green in the og photo so i put a filter over it but trust me it was very very green)

other random purps

[nina-ya]

coworkers are fucking me over and corporate thinks I can’t do my job yeehaw healthcare worker things 💃

[bibleofficial]

where is my fat husband