#and i'm going to be smart about this instead of realizing well after it's far too late to change gears

[elizzsush]

Beastmen Courting Rituals | TWST

Savanaclaw Dorm X Reader

Leona X Reader, Ruggie X Reader, Jack X Reader,

---- BeastFolk typically have instinctual ways they begin 'courting' or a relationship, some even taught from a young age certain courting rituals. (Non-Human courting rituals part 1/3)

Note: Fun fact, I began making Fae courting first but then I posted the future kid thing and didn't want to post two Diasomnia so close together!

Octavinelle Ver | Diasomnia Ver.

Jack:

It started very small, one day he was there, the next he was there again, and the next he was also there.

He was always there.

Then it got a bit... weird? You noticed that when he would approach you, he was making this grumbling, whining sounds? You don't even think he realized it. You chose to ignore this fact for now, maybe it was just because he was a beast man? You didn't want to be rude by saying anything- or make him feel embarrassed.

After that he began to help you with your hair more as well. Well, your general appearance. He'd help you fix your uniform and brush off any dust or anything you'd may want or need help with. In turn you helped him back, it was only fair after all!

Never mind his flushed face while you did this, moving small hairs back in place and picking any particles off his own uniform.

"There's our dynamic pair! beauty and the beast man." Ace teased, a confident grin on his face while you sat down at the table, Jack not too far behind you.

Jack just rolled his eyes, a small blush on his face as he ignored Ace. Aka, while he did the smart thing to do. You, however, have yet to learn that Despite so many months of friendship and raised an eyebrow at the Card boy. "What are you talking about." You rolled your eyes at the boy.

"You don't know? but it's so obvious!" Ace frowned, Grim nodding beside him in agreement, though you doubted he even knew what the boy was talking about. "His tail is always wagging like a fan when he's talking to ya! He's totally in l-" just as Ace was about to finish speaking Jack piped up, his ears straight on his head in an alert manner and his tail stiff behind him.

"I didn't get anything to drink when we got food." He excused himself, you tried to get a look at his face because he wasn't looking at you but he didn't look back and stood up.

Glancing at his tray, you didn't fail to notice the milk carton on it. Plush, Jack was always the prepared, diligent one. That was so odd... You glanced back at Ace only to find him laughing to himself like the funniest thing just happened. "Whatever, where is Deuce?" You rolled your eyes.

"Why should I know? I'm not his mom."

After that, Ace started calling you dense. Maybe you were because you really didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

After that it was like there was a switch in Jack. He began to be touchier, not that you minded of course! Cuddling with friends is always nice, and you liked to think it was because of his more... animalistic features and instincts he was cuddlier.

But somehow it felt more intimate. He'd nuzzle his face into your neck and hang off of you like he was a coat instead of a large man who was... well jacked.

You'd often wrestle him off of you because he had gotten into the habit of, as you said before, hanging off of you! He'd whine and almost instinctually wrestle you back to stay into his place.

You may not be as strong as him, but you also didn't hate the way he'd run with you at P.E. You knew he could easily run laps around everyone, but instead he stuck with you. Smiling at you exhausted look and cheering you on. "I'm sure Coach Vargas wouldn't mind us taking a break?" He laughs a bit awkwardly after you glared at him for suggesting it when he barely even broke a sweat.

It wasn't till after Leona off Handly mentioned something about you smelling like Jack. Even wrinkling his nose and saying that he "didn't have to lay it on that thick." That you started to think, maybe, just maybe, something else was going on here.

So, you went to the library. Got yourself your very own book (that you had to return in two weeks) on Beastfolk Mating rituals.

Suddenly, it made sense why Ace thought you were dense. Apparently, this was commonish knowledge in this world! And maybe you were ignoring pretty obvious signs now that you thought about it.

So, one afternoon when Jack was hanging off of you, that look in his eyes you hadn't noticed till now. You bit his hand. His ears straightened in surprise and he looked at you for a moment. A thick blush on his face.

"Am I dense or are you courting me?" You finally asked now that you had his attention.

"I have been for a while now..." He sheepishly admitted while not looking you in the eye.

____________

Ruggie:

He avoided you like the plague, at first.

Even now, sometimes when he's approaching you, you noticed that he might backtrack and hesitate.

Now he is a lot more relaxed, often hanging off of your shoulder. Now that he knows you won't bite his head off. His tail would wag behind him slightly while he interacted with you. A stark contrast to the stiff, alert eared boy he was just a little while ago!

You will say though, it did take some of your lunches to get here. You'd equate this process to that of getting a scared cat to approach you with treats. Now, you didn't even need the treats to get him around! He'd approach you first now too. Still with hesitance, but once he did come up to you he did seem to enjoy himself.

"He loved hanging off of you and cuddling up to you. He was very handsy, (Like most beast men, you'd later learned) His face often nuzzled into the nook of your neck. "He loved hanging off of you and cuddling up to you. He was very handsy, (Like most beast men, you'd later learned) His face often nuzzled into the nook of your neck.

"It's so weird to see a Ruggie-Senpai hang out with you so much." Deuce said off handedly one afternoon. You two were studying together when he thought of this.

"What do you mean?" You couldn't help but ask the card solider. Putting your pen down as you looked at him curiously.

The boy just shrugged, a odd look on his face. "I don't know, I just thought Hyena beast men were more... You know." he added a bit awkwardly. You decided to drop it there.

"Yeah... Anyway, I think I remember-"

The interaction stood out in your head, however. What exactly did Deuce even mean? After that interaction, you noticed a couple things as well. Beast students would look at you and nodded at you in recognition? Leona's nose would scrunch up a bit when you spoke to him (though he never made any comments on it), and when you walked into Savanaclaw a beast guy once mistook you for Ruggie before he looked at you?

What did any of that even mean?! When you asked Jack, he just said you smelt like Ruggie.

That small interaction you had with Deuce quickly began to send you down a hill of thinking about everything Ruggie ever did! How he hung off of you, and how you two hung out. It got even weirder when Ruggie offered you some food. Like he had been for a while.

This was very out of character for the Hyena boy! How did you not realize it before? So, you asked him about it. "How come you always offer me something when we eat together?"

He blushed a bit looking at you with wide eyes for a moment before shaking his head, "I do that don't I?" he laughed awkwardly, "I mean I bring food home for the neighborhood kids too. We all got to eat; you know?" He shrugged it off. You wondered what that meant, because he didn't do it with anyone else, but you failed to push him on the subject.

Your sad to say, you never fully realized what was happening till someone explained it to you.

He knocked on Ramshackle door with a handful of pretty dandelions and asked you on a date. "Perfect, would you like to um... go out with me?" he asked hesitantly, a nervous smile on his face while he put his head down. Like he was trying to protect his neck...

You said yes and it was after that Leona explained how annoying it was watching you two and basically inadvertently explained everything to you...

"That would have been helpful to know sooner." You grumbled to yourself after talking with the lion.

"Eh? Ignore him shyhehe!~ Ruggie just snickered with his usual sly smile.

____________

Leona:

Leona didn't really have time for games. If he liked, you he'd just come out and say it. At least, that's what you had first thought. Yes, he did use your lap as a pillow and you two did cuddle somewhat regularly. That didn't exactly mean anything. Right?

And yeah, Ruggie did scrunch his nose up and complain that you smelt too much like Leona, but that didn't matter. Leona probably didn't mean to do that; he was probably sleeping.

Did Leona roar at you? Yeah, so what? It was like a yawn; it just came out. No, he wasn't blushing! He couldn't be because you were already looking away in embarrassment.

Leona just didn't like you like that. No matter how many Courting book you read on beast men!

The Lion man in question invited you out to a Spelldrive tournament he had been practicing for. Obviously, you went without a second thought. It would be nice to see the lazy lion not lazing around for once! At least that's how you justified it.

You definitely didn't want to just see your crush play a match.

You couldn't help but notice the whole time, how Leona kept looking at you in your seat. Making sure you had just seen him perform. You'd smile and cheer for him and maybe, just maybe, a sense of pride would build up in his chest.

And maybe it was really nice to hear you cheer, and see you jump up from your seat in excitement. And maybe it was really nice to be able to cheer for him.

So you planned to confess to him after this game. "Leona I really liked you! I have for a while now!" And you did.

"Finally." He yawned and rubbed the back of his neck, you two then went to cuddle in the garden.

Did that mean you two were together now...?

____________

A/N: I know that some dorms aren't like nonhuman, but I can imagine that like Riddle was taught like courting customs in The Queendom of Roses, (Some queen of heart rule) or like the scalding sands have some costumes? Like the world changes because of beastmen/Fae customs and people adapted to that and added it to their own ways of approaching a relationship? Idk lol

Sorry Leona's part was quite short, I was getting tired and just wanted to get this out! But thank you for reading!

[casuallyanidiot]

Omg your yandere coworker *chef's kiss*

I imagine he's just frustrated and angry because he can't believe he's fallen for a loser like reader. Like they are such a mess all the time. So soft and easy to tire. They look so out of place in this workplace environment.

But over time it starts to click that all he was to do is take them away and keep them at home. Reader shouldn't even be at work! Reader should be sitting pretty at home like the good little spouse he knows they are all that they are good for!

Man he'll have to come up with a plan to make that happen wouldn't he?

Thanks! He's awful! :)

I think the worst part about Yan coworker is that he believes he's actually a good person. Maybe if he just acknowledged how scummy he was, he wouldn't be half as bad.

He he's had enough of you stumbling all over yourself like an idiot. Yandere Coworker pulls you aside one day into a storage closet. He's trying so hard not to snap and fuck you stupid against some half empty shelves, so instead he settles for gripping your arms. Isn't he a gentleman? Anyways, he lays it out for you.

"You need to quit," He says simply. His voice is gruff and firm, and you blink in surprise. "What?" You stammer out. He's tall, intimidatingly so, and you tremble as he holds you. "No, no I'm not- I can't quit! This is my job! I know you don't really like me, but that's out of line," You hiss out and squirm away from him.

Yandere coworker realizes you really are very, very dumb. There's nothing in that stupid little head of yours, is there? You can't even tell how much he's looking out for you. You're crumbling under the weight of this job, and he can't stand seeing you so unhappy.

But he makes enough money for the two of you. He can handle this while you can't. In fact, the more he thinks about it, he can't figure out just what in the world you would be good at. He tries to picture you as successful at anything and comes up blank. Huh... You really are good for nothing. Except,,, you would probably do well if you didn't have to do anything at all.

Yandere coworker starts to think about how much prettier you would be if you got proper sleep. He likes the way you look in corporate attire (That is on the rare occasions where you don't look like a hot mess), but he bets you'd like to be in expensive and revealing loungewear even more. The only thing you would have to do is keep your house tidy, and keep yourself nice and presentable for whoever provided for you. Yeah, you'd be perfect for that. And guess what? He could give you that.

Yandere coworker knows that you're far too stubborn for your own good. He begins to actively sabotage your work. He inserts spelling errors into your reports, changes the numbers of any potential client before you have the chance to make a sale. He allows himself to be more officially promoted, and with the new power he has, he assigns you increasingly difficult tasks.

You try and report him for essentially bullying you, but the complaint is thrown out with little care. He's one of the best employees the company had ever seen, and you were just some bumbling broad who couldn't even spell their own name right on official documents.

Before long, you're fired. Yandere Coworker uses his position in the company and many connections he has to essentially black list you.

You can't get a decent job in your field anymore. Plus you begin to get behind on rent and bills. Your life is going to shit, yet you still refuse to take him up on his many offers. It's infuriating, and he just wants to put you in a place that he knows you'll be safe and happy in.

Yandere Coworker just thinks your too dumb to realize how kind he's being. He hopes that you're smart enough to recognize how nice the trunk of a luxury car is. After all, you're going to be there for a while until he can get you to his home where you'll never have to use that useless brain of yours again.

[meanbossart]

What is it about Astarion that DU Drow fell for? Which traits/habits/quirks/whatever were the ones that he first noticed/piqued his interest?

Oh boy, I mean, at first DU Drow didn't care for Astarion at all. He was extremely on edge around all of these people and Astarion's rather invasive strategy only put him off further - his insight checks may be awful, but he can still tell when someone is trying to suck up to him a little too hard. DU drow thought he was attractive, of course (see.: the narrator's comment about the quote-on-quote pretty corpse) but otherwise didn't think very much of, or very highly of him.

Once he got his confidence back, and after Astarion caught onto the fact that he needed to play hard to get to string him along, there would have been a little while where DU drow only saw him in the context of a trophy or conquest - but admittedly, he also thought Astarion was funny, and he thought he was smart - even someone as dense as him could see that the guy had read him perfectly, and proceeded to adapt as necessary to get what he wanted out of him - and DU drow fell right into it, willingly so. There would have been some mutual respect there between them from understanding each other's games.

Their ritual of letting Astarion bite him definitely planted a little seed of something too. I've talked about it plenty of times so I won't dwell on it, but DU drow enjoys the intimacy implied in allowing someone to hurt him. This was far from an emotional turning point in the relationship, but it did prompt him to start seeing Astarion differently (not better or worse - just differently.)

(I'm a little drunk and went on and on, enjoy LOL)

Then, after one or two intimate encounters, the Urge would have started taking too much of a toll - violent lust turned into lustful violence, and hence DU drow didn't want to have sex anymore out of a fear of losing control during the act; yet, he had learned to trust Astarion by then and would seek out his comfort and companionship all the same. Faced with the situation where sex is no longer an option, I imagine Astarion would have been caught off guard and let the mask slip more often than usual. Pair that with the fact that DU Drow is a surprisingly affectionate (in private) but highly withdrawn person, left him in the role of leading their exchanges. Astarion, I think, would have felt the need to talk; if for no other reason but to fill the air whenever they were alone together. Eventually DU Drow would have started talking back.

These were long nights of just looking up at the sky and going through things that happened that day, what led them here, what the companions are doing, talking shit about whats-his-or-her-name, often just straight up gossip. Astarion eventually realized he could say whatever he damn pleased in front of DU Drow and nothing seemed to phase him, and vice-versa. DU drow enjoyed his bluntness, his earnest impulsivity that matched his own, he laughed at his jokes (as well as some things that weren't meant as jokes) he enjoyed his teasing and his reactions when he said something putrid in return, he liked the way he smelled when he was clean and he liked his stink when he was filthy, he watched him fidget with his own clothes and hair until Astarion gave him a weird look and aggressively asked what he was staring at. He enjoyed when Astarion got angry at something he said, because it felt very genuine - and he didn't use to think of him as a very genuine person.

Astarion was the first to notice something was wrong with him - so DU drow felt comfortable talking about it openly. On the other hand, DU drow never pressed Astarion about his past unprompted - instead just letting him talk about it if he so wished and without trying to milk it for more details when he did choose to do so. Because they spoke a similar language of violence and operated under the same hedonist-based beliefs, it was easy to talk to each other even when there was friction between them - similarly, they were both always willing to move past and quickly "forget" when someone said something truly hurtful.

I don't know if there was a key moment where he realized this had turned into love; that was probably a word DU Drow dropped quite unabashedly sometime after they got to Baldur's Gate, and before they faced-off with Cazador (to no reciprocation or acknowledgment then, not that he minded). But sometime during act 3, DU drow simply assumed that after this was all over they would still stick together.

[coff33andb00ks]

İdk i just got hit with this shitty idea 😭😭 drabble list thingy 5 40 60 64 and 70. BUT WITH ACADEMIC RIVAL OSCAR? IDK ITS KINDA STUPİD BUT STİLL 😭😭

driver + number = drabble <3

warning: author knows nothing about academia 😳

"Idiots, they're all idiots."

You glanced up at the sound of his voice, perplexed. Then, realizing he couldn't possibly be talking to you, you turned back to your work. You'd come here in the hopes that you'd be able to finish your paper without the distractions in your dorm, and so far–

Thud.

The heavy backpack landed on the tabletop with much more force than necessary and you glared at its owner, who - horrifically - was pulling out the chair across from you. As usual he was wearing his stupid burgundy shirt under his stupid black hoodie, and his hair was falling into his eyes with that stupid little swoop.

The only thing stupid about Oscar Piastri was his lack of style.

"You don't mind do you?" he asked, already settling into the chair with his coffee.

"I'm annoyed, to put it mildly," you muttered, staring at the backpack crushing the corner of your pencil pouch.

"Ah well, the feeling's mutual." He pulled his backpack towards him and threw down a copy of the local newspaper. Odd, that he actually read a physical newspaper instead of getting his news online like everyone else born after 1985.

You carefully maneuvered your pencil pouch closer to yourself and tried to focus on your paper. Intent to ignore him, you managed to type out two whole sentences before he snapped open the newspaper. Darting your eyes towards him, you watched the morning sunlight dance over the angle of his jaw.

Too bad he was such an insufferable know it all. Half the students that you knew from the classes you shared with him called him Hermes Granger behind his back, he was that bad. Always had the correct answers in lecture. Always top marks. Always, always, always, while you were just behind him.

Except the one time, but he'd been in hospital due to his roommate Lando accidentally tripping him and fracturing his rib, so that didn't really count.

"Did you hear about this?" he asked suddenly, thrusting the newspaper in your direction.

You looked from the paper to him, half expecting him to pull it away before you could take it. He didn't though, and you turned it so you could read the small headline.

No Evidence of Foul Play in Missing Money

Frowning, you read the small blurb about thousands of dollars that had seemingly vanished from a local charity. "How can there be no foul play?" you asked after reading it through twice. "It was there one day and gone the next."

Oscar nodded. "Exactly. And you know who's on the board, right?"

"Dude, I barely know my roommate's name most days..."

"Yeah I reckon you've got too many classes–"

You narrowed your eyes at that, missing half of the rest of what he said.

"–the mayor."

You snorted on a laugh. "Are you insinuating the mayor stole the money?"

He wasn't laughing. Or smiling. In fact, you were pretty sure you'd never seen Oscar smile. Well, that pained half smile when Lando dragged him to a party, but otherwise...

"You can't be serious," you said. "He's the mayor. He's got plenty of money."

"Does he?"

Rolling your eyes, you slid your laptop close and tried to focus on your work again. "Didn't have you down as a conspiracy theorist."

"It's not a conspiracy theory though?"

"The mayor, who lives in a mansion and drives a Ferrari, stealing ten thousand dollars from a charity?"

"People in power have stolen less. He's very good at hiding secrets. Like his brother's company being behind the factory buyout last year? The government doesn't want you to know this, but every one of them are crooked."

"What do they put in your coffee?" you asked with a roll of your eyes. "Do you get a tinfoil hat to go with it?"

He scoffed. "I thought you were smart."

That surprised you. You didn't think Oscar thought about you at all. "So what do you suggest, Oscar? We storm city hall and demand the mayor give the money back?"

He pursed his lips and dipped his head to one side as though to indicate the idea had merit. "Or we could sneak in after hours and poke around."

"Break into the mayor's office," you clarified.

He nodded. "Tonight after dinner?"

"Set off alarms, get arrested, and go to jail."

He winced. "Yeah, maybe not our brightest idea."

"Excuse me, did you–"

"But we can still do dinner, yeah?"

"Idiots. They are all idiots." / "I'm annoyed, to say it mildly." / "The feeling is mutual." / "The government doesn't want you to know about this." / "Not our brightest idea."

[bleachbleachbleach]

RAYS I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

DID I MENTION I LOVE THIS SO MUCH? This piece is such a rollercoaster of emotions, especially because when I think of Hinamori drawing, the first scent that always comes to mind is that sweet, quiet scene in the Beast Swords arc where Hinamori and Tobiume are quietly drawing together. It feels like a way to slow the world down, and work with images as a meditative practice. To see Hinamori in a frenzy of illustration, so focused on trying to capture places and people and memories before they slip away entirely that she's hardly aware of what's around her, what she's saying--it's so unsettling, in the absolute best way, and I feel like that anxiety completely pervades the first half of the fic, and the reader can't help but feel viscerally a piece of what she's feeling, and a piece of what Hitsugaya's feeling in having witnessed her. And I love the second act, as well--the coming out of the fugue, and Hitsugaya trying to offer advice (offer Hinamori's advice back at her), a kind of sheepish return to the here and now even as that here and now is still shifting rapidly below the surface, memories still flooding away.

Every single line and character beat in this is pitch perfect. Like Hitsugaya's consternation at only being able to parrot Hinamori's advice back at her, and feeling like this is inadequate--and indeed, also the idea that Hinamori acts as though she's never heard her own advice. I feel like that sensibility is true of a lot of characters in Bleach, but feels especially poignant here, because Hinamori is given to thinking about others over herself but also in a state of forgetting a whole passel of others whom she holds dear.

I just love all of Hitsugaya's internal notes in this. Like, "the giant always seemed to have very few problems" feels like such a Hitsugaya thing to note, and such a Hitsugaya way to express that. It's an aside in the scope of the whole of the fic but it is so perfect. But I think my top favorite line in this regard comes early on: He lowers himself next her, as if sitting next to a dangerous animal that could snap at him any moment. That visual! #justrukongai things, maybe, even in Junrinan, but I feel like that description suits wary, maximally guarded Hitsugaya so well; it's such a familiar stance, and way to feel--except that he's never felt it with Hinamori, taking us back to that feeling of the unsettled and AAH. I feel like Hinamori, born empath, is more prone to soaking up the emotions of those around her, and Hitsugaya tends more toward trying to riddle them out through laser observation, but the potency of what Hinamori is feeling here, and how much it matters to Hitsugaya to know what is happening with her, makes her emotions paint over everything. As a reader, I loved loved loved this experience so much. I say this about basically everything, I know, but I think this is one of my favorites of yours, for sure. What a TREAT. <333333 Thank you for sharing this!

Slowly Fading

Prompt: different

Rating: K/General

Setting: 60+ years before the main story

Synopsis: Momo has been acting strange lately. When she comes over to visit, Toshiro finally confronts her about it.

AN: another month, another prompt for the OTP challenge by @yearoftheotpevent! I was very tempted to write something for the Valentine’s Day prompt, but this idea just wouldn’t leave my mind. This one is a melancholic story, not necessarily angsty but a bit of a downer. It came to me while i was thinking about what happens when a soul starts to forget their life in the World of the Living. How do they cope? Do they even realise it's happening? Do they even remember being human once all their memories are gone?

I admit, I have no idea what art supplies the Soul Society has, but for the sake of this fic I guess I assume they have pencils and sketchbooks? They usually have Edo period items in the Rukongai, but considering there's also a goggles and sunglasses shop there, I imagine they'd have a few 'modern' things too?

Anyhow, I hope you all enjoy it!

__________________________________

Toshiro hesitates at the doorway, watching Momo focus on her drawing. He can’t pinpoint the exact moment she started acting different, but in hindsight, it hadn’t happened suddenly.

It had been a slow thing at first, starting with her gaze softening at certain things – a type of tree in the forest, a stall in the Junrinan that sold hair combs, a mother and her child happily going about their day, a young girl rushing through a crowd back to sibling during a festival – but now it had progressed to strained smiles and a sudden focus on drawing and painting.

Just as with other times, she draws in haste, her hand almost a blur as she switches one colour pencil for another. Her back is arched over her sketchbook, and her head is so close to the page the tip of her nose is only a few inches from the paper. From his short distance, he thinks it looks like a landscape, but not of the forest before them nor of a part of the Soul Society he’s ever seen.

His frown deepens. Something about her drawing somewhere he doesn’t know makes him finally walk out on to the veranda. “Where’s that?”

She didn’t hear, or at least acts like she hadn’t. With a few strokes, she creates another tree amongst the many others that surround a lake. On its shore in the far distance are two indistinguishable figures, seemingly waving at the viewer.

“Oi,” he says, but still he doesn’t get her attention. He folds his arms. “You’re going wear yourself out, bed-wetter.”

She goes rigid at that. “Not now, Shiro-chan! I must concentrate.”

He barely manages to not flinch back; he’s never heard her so tense. In the rare moments where she said something out of annoyance or anger, she's always quick to apologise.

When the latter doesn’t happen, he thinks to go back inside and just wait for her to finish her drawing. Maybe then whatever maddening spell had captivated her would break and she’d remember what she’d shouted at him.

But he doesn’t go back inside. He lowers himself next her, as if sitting next to a dangerous animal that could snap at him any moment. He’s never felt this way around her before, as though she were another Junrinan resident he had to sneak around or to be cautious of. He always thought she could stand to be a bit tougher, but he didn’t like seeing her like this. He’ll take her crybaby moments over whatever this is.

His irritation gradually cools as he watches her draw, not really knowing why he’s here with her. Maybe it’s because whenever he’s angry or upset, she comes to his side. She’ll say some words, perhaps even hug him despite his half-hearted protests, but regardless she always comes to his side. He’s only ever had to comfort Granny in rare moments, he didn’t know how to do the same for others.

She stops drawing several minutes later, and whatever trance it holds over her breaks. She blinks down at her creation as her brows draw upward. It’s as though she isn’t entirely sure she was the one who created the drawing.

It’s not until he shifts his leg, his toe tapping her ankle, that she looks to him. “Shiro-chan…”

“Don’t call me that.” It’s the first time the phrase has been uttered without anger or annoyance. He folds his arms. “You finally done with that?”

Instead of answering his question, she grimaces. “I said something bad before, didn’t I?”

He only shrugs.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout at you.”

“It’s nothing,” he says. “I’ve heard worse.”

She doesn’t voice it, but he can sense that she wanted to say something to the effect of, ‘Even so, it wasn’t nice.’ Instead, she puts her sketchbook aside and turns her gaze to her lap.

Well, it was no use trying to brush this off and move on with their day as if nothing happen. “What’s gotten into you?" he asks. "You’ve been acting different for a while now.”

He can’t tell if she hangs her head in guilt or in contemplation. He kicks his legs idly to release some nervous tension building up within him.

Perhaps realizing he isn’t going to leave her alone, she shallows thickly, and her eyes mist with unshed tears. Her quiet admission almost goes unheard over the call of a nearby bird. “I’m starting to forget things.”

Toshiro quirks up a brow. “Huh?”

“From the World of the Living, I mean,” she clarifies. At his confusion, she sighs. “My friends told me that a Soul gradually forgets their time in the World of the Living. At some point, they don’t even remember being a human. They know they were born in the World of the Living, but they can't remember a single thing about their time there.” One tear falls and lands in between her hands, which are tightly clutching her yukata at the knees. “I don’t want to forget anything. I want to remember mother, father, and my sister forever. I’ve already forgotten how they sound, and now I can’t remember father’s face.”

With a trembling hand, she brings back her sketchbook and tilts it enough for him to see. “This is somewhere I know. I think I knew where it was a few days ago, but today…I don’t remember why we’d come here.” She taps a finger over the figures in the distance. “That’s my family. I have this memory, I think, of them on the other side of this lake. I don’t remember what I was doing…maybe searching for flowers? I don’t know why though, I…” She hiccups and drops her sketchbook into her lap. “I can’t remember anymore.”

What’s the use of remembering things and people you can’t go back to? He almost says it aloud, even has his lips parted to utter it, but her wide-eyed, glassy gaze tightens his throat. He knows he can be brutally honest with his words at best – and callous at worst – and it was often from a place of caring when it came to her, but he can’t bring himself to risk saddening her further.

What was he to do? If only Granny were here, she’d know. If he waits until she returns home, she can handle things. For some reason, that doesn’t make him feel any better. Did he not want to burden Granny with this? Did he doubt she could help Momo?

No, he realizes when his friend lifts her head to him, struggling not to cry. It’s because he is useless to help her. Why did he had to rely on Granny? Why can’t he do anything?

He’s never felt this way before, has only ever been concerned with getting by and ignoring the residents of the Junrinan. He never really felt this way towards Jidanbo, his only other friend; but the giant always seemed to have very few problems. And up until recently, Momo had been the same.

“I wish I were older,” she half sobs. “If I were, I could become a Shinigami and go see them in the World of the Living.” She sniffs and rubs her eyes, releasing two more tears. “It’s stupid to feel this way, isn’t it?”

“No.”

He hadn’t meant to answer so quickly. He can’t tell if she’s surprised by how quickly he answered or what he’d said. Maybe she expected him to say ‘yes,’ and the implication stings. Was he truly that much a pessimist to her?

She wipes away a tear. “But I’m going to forget everything anyway, so I should just…”

“You’ve told me before that it’s not stupid to feel about things that don’t matter to others, that if they matter to you then that's okay. If it’s true for everyone else, then…it’s true for you too.” He cringes at the flush warming his face. What person throws back the same comforting words they once gave to another? Had he no words of his own?

However, Momo looks as if she’s never heard her own advice before. She considers it, gaze falling to the floorboards and shoulder relaxing. Again he waits, but his heart thrums with anxiety. Had he made things worse? He really should have waited for Granny.

As if on cue, the front door slides open and the old woman's voice comes through to the back. She gives a cheerful recounting of how she got certain items and missed others, at first too busy putting food away to notice the awkwardness between he and Momo.

When she finally looks at them and takes in Momo’s teary eyes, she’s quick to put aside the rest of her shopping and sit with the girl. Toshiro excuses himself, saying he’d go get the peaches Granny was unable to buy. The old woman frowns, but gives him a slow nod.

No matter how far Toshiro walks, the heaviness in his chest doesn’t lighten. Not even when he passes the various locations they’d discovered together – the watermelon patch in a clearing, the bushes of hasukappu, or the lone peach tree near a stream. At said tree, he picks off a several fruits and stuffs them into his sleeves. They're not as good as the ones sold in the Rukongai, but if nothing else, Granny, can still make sweets from them.

He returns slower than he left, coming back just as the sun was starting to set. He expects the veranda to be empty, but Momo is still there, drawing. Trepidation makes him slow to approach, but she lifts her head when his shadow falls over her feet.

She’s not surprised like he expected. The underside of her eyes is still red from crying, but her gaze is neutral. “Why did you run off?”

She doesn’t even say his name, and something about that strikes him. He’s so used to hearing that dumb nickname.

Snapping out of his daze, he pulls a peach out from his sleeve. “To get these.” He hands the fruit to her. “They’re in season.”

It almost feels like a peace offering, to say he’s sorry for not helping her and for running off suddenly. His frown deepens at the twitch in one corner of her lip, and even more so at the breathy, failed attempted at a snort.

“What?” he asks.

That seems to make the floodgates open, and she chuckles with a wide grin. “You’re giving me a peach?”

He rolls his eyes at the implication. “Not my fault you were named after a fruit, bed-wetter.”

That turns her smile into a pout. “Shiro-chan!”

“You gonna take it or not?” he grouses, thrusting the fruit into her face. “It’s the best one of the lot.”

He didn’t know that for a fact, but it looks like one of the least blemished one of the fruits. She struggles to look petulant as she puts her pencil back in the box with the others and takes the peach. “Thank you. I’ll eat it later, it’s too close to dinner time.”

“Suit yourself.”

She puts it away in a cloth bag along with her pencils and sketchbook. “Speaking of dinner, I should probably head back.”

He hums in agreement, but neither of them moves.

The awkwardness returns, making him unsure if he should walk her to the front of his house or go inside to put the peaches away. He takes slow, shiftless steps up on to the veranda, but comes to a stand still when Momo is in his peripheral. She’s completely still while staring at the side of his face; he’s certain it’s in concern.

Did she still feel bad for shouting at him earlier? Or was his inner turmoil that obvious? Why did she have to be so concerned with him?

He’s not going to move until he says something, he realises. He shifts his head just enough to see her. “What did Baa-chan say?”

She finally blinks, as if he had broken a spell that froze time. She is slow to answer. “She told me she forgets things too. She can’t remember most of her earlier life in the Soul Society now, and she only has glimpses of memories from her life in the World of the Living.  It’s, um…It’s just part of being a soul. It can’t be stopped, it’ll happen no matter what. The best I can do is draw what I remember while I can still remember it, and write on the back what it’s about.”

A grim acceptance. He should be satisfied with this outcome, but he finds himself getting a little heavier. What had he expected Granny to tell her? The old woman is almost comforting, but she also didn’t sugar-coat things. Had he wanted her to do that for Momo?

The barest smile tilts the corners of her lips. “But my family is still alive, a-and they won’t forget me.  It’s also okay to feel sad about losing my memories, and it’s okay for me to be here and be happy too.”

Toshiro isn’t completely convinced that she feels better, but he can see the exhaustion is starting to hit her, and he finds himself tired as well. “Good, then.”

“She didn’t tell me that last part.” At his confused frown, her smile widens a fraction more, but it’s sombre. “I thought about what you said. I-I don't when I'll completely forget everything, or when I'll stop drawing my memories, but I know it's okay to feel this way about everything. I might be different for a while, but one day, when I've forgotten everything, I hope I can look at these drawings and remember something, even if it's only for a second."

He doesn’t want to tell her that drawings can fade too, or that she may lose her sketchbook one day. "I get it."

He leads her back to the front of the house and pretends he doesn't see the slight falter in her smile. For her sake, he wants to hope too.

[destiny-in-the-universe]

Pines Headcanons [Happy Birthday, Grunkles]

I cannot believe I just now got reminded of this- holy shit. Unfortunately, I'm not an artist so have these headcanons instead about Stan and Ford

Stanley ‘Lee’ Pines

He’s bisexual. This is not up for debate (/lh). It just made sense for him 

Stanley is ambidextrous. He can write and utilize both his left and right hands. This was something he self-taught himself in after the portal accident 

On the power of ‘I said so’, Stan does have some level of book smarts but instead of math or science- it’s creative writing. He’s got the talent for it; however, he rarely - if ever - shares these stories with anyone

Stan has some form of neurodivergency. Young Stan definitely gives the impression of ADHD but also I feel he’s got dyslexia- don’t ask me why. This is canon now

He does have scars from the time he spent on the run and doing his sales. I’m not sure what they are exactly, but just know he has them 

Stan knows martial arts. Other than boxing, I feel he would’ve taught himself in other forms of fighting- like the ones done on the streets and it’s a weird mix of martial arts and free-style fighting

He can be a bit of a poet, but for the most part- Stan prefers show-and-tell as his love language. He will present his partner with gifts, and makes sure they understand he’s there for them 

He’s kind of protective over his partners, and definitely has gotten into fights in an attempt to protect their honor. It’s ill-placed sometimes but he’s not about to let some bozo mess with them

Stan always sought his father’s approval. He attempted multiple times to perfect his studying skills before the science fair accident, but apparently Old Pa Pines didn’t seem to notice and the rest, well, it was already history

He fantasized of being a pirate when he was a kid. This is where the whole thing of going on a seafaring adventure with Ford came from! Unfortunately due to canon events, this soured out but he held onto a photograph he and Ford took in front of the beach as a memoir

He’s very much not a big fan of vegetables

Stanford ‘Ford’ Pines

He’s arospec and ace!

Ford absolutely loves puzzles. Why? It just weirdly fitting for his character

He definitely has C-PTSD following the events of Weirdmaggedon

Autistic Ford? Autistic Ford. There is no way he doesn’t have it- I said what I said

Before he got involved in the strange and paranormal, one of Ford’s main interests was actually crystals and rocks! It felt weirdly fitting for his character, and here we are

Ford is more of a cat person. At one point, he rescued a cat-adjacent creature from an auction and named her ‘Nova’. Of course, it’s far from a cat but well, we’ll get to that later

He would be into LARP if it exists in the Gravity Falls canon. Like, that man is a nerd and already enjoys the show’s version of Dungeons and Dragons, there’s just no way he wouldn’t participate in LARP

He does have scars from his time in other dimensions for thirty years. He’s very secretive about them and doesn’t let anyone see- not even Stanley

Ford deals with the aftermath of a burnt-out gifted kid- like, he was the prodigal son and got all the right honors, scores, all of it but as he got older- the more he struggled, the more he felt like something was missing. As the golden child, he was brought up with the notion he would be important but then got smacked in the face when he realized none of it truly mattered

He had a lot of issues adjusting to his new life in Gravity Falls, Oregon after he was brought back from the portal. Ford’s triggered fight-or-flight response would kick in with unexpected situations- like, he’s definitely pulled a blaster/space gun

He likes hot chocolate

Ford enjoys cuddle piles, let’s be honest here. Once he gets more comfortable, he begins making nests with the rest of the Pines family

He’s protective of his family!

I’ll try and come up with new headcanons soon, but since I took too long releasing this- given I got sick unfortunately, I decided to post a smaller version 

[bisclavret]

there's a palpable missing link in gwen's characterization that the show has almost hinted at but never explored in a satisfactory way and after hours of riffing with @morganadismay i think it might be summarized with just. ambition? on a show as juvenile in its moral politics as bbc merlin ambition might be seen as a hunger for something and therefore a sinful bad thing so gwen just seemed to kind of seamlessly and elegantly rise to power, but honestly when you attribute a sense of ambition to her, the entire character that is guinevere clicks into place:

she has the most solid moral compass out of everyone in that castle - and she knows it. by her late teens she is already lady morgana's servant (morgana who, at this point, is the progressive and rebellious "adoptive" daughter of the king - perhaps someone to stay close to if you want to see reform?) and she flocks to merlin the second she sees him stand up to the prince. then, as soon as she realizes prince arthur actually listens to what she has to say and that it has an effect on his actions (makes him more progressive, open-minded, and class conscious) she subtly moves her interest from merlin and morgana onto him.

((affection is a propelling part of all these decisions, of course, anyone that's seen how gwen treats people doesn't doubt that it's with genuine love and kindness and care for their well-being. i'm just trying to argue that there's more to her than that, or rather that it's precisely this love that is driving her ambition as well:))

the show is written in such a way that only one person per episode can have a braincell so gwen's cleverness is often cast to the wayside so another character can have a go at using their brain, but we can all agree she is overall the smartest character out of the core four. and when you're as smart and full of love and worry as gwen is, it's intolerable to acutely feel the kingdom's injustices and do nothing about them. people often talk about how gwen is impossible to upset or make angry because she is just that empathetic and understanding and can easily put herself in people's shoes. these are definitely elements of gwen's personality, but i don't care how empathetic you are, when someone kills your dad - a sweet, innocent man - in the name of tyrannical ethnic cleansing of people with magic, you do not, you cannot brush it away. especially if you are as clever and empathetic as we know gwen to be.

and yet that's what she seems to do. in one of the most tone-deaf and frustrating and nonsensical conversations in the entire show, she tells merlin she would not kill uther, the mad tyrant king that just killed her fucking dad and is killing so many people on a daily basis, because then she would be just as bad as him. and i do think she believes this. because that's how she was written. however, there were other ways for her to show her displeasure with the royal family after they killed her literal dad. and she chose none. instead, she stayed close and hardly ever acknowledged her huge, enormous loss (elyan had been away for years and she had no mother to speak of - they killed her only family).

because she's strong? sure. but have you lost a loving parent? strength has nothing to do with what that sort of grief does to you. and i think it is precisely through that grief that gwen makes her choice to stick around and see this relationship with the royal family through as far as it can go. she lets her anger solidify into determination - determination to turn arthur into a better version of his father so these injustices have a chance at stopping once he's king.

she lets go of lancelot. she becomes more feminine, her hair longer and her corsets tighter every time we see her. she tolerates arthur's indecisiveness and brashness and morgana's increasing outbursts of cruelty. she never fully seems to expect to become queen, always quick to offer to let go of arthur for The Greater Good (merlin could take a page from her book), but that's precisely what makes her ambition a good trait. it's steadfast, it's logical, and the end goal isn't power for the sake of power. it's a slow, borderline sisyphean climb up the social ladder until she has stable enough footing to enact the reform that her contemporaries were too undiplomatic to achieve.

TL;DR you cannot get where gwen gets by the end of the show through true love or luck or a series of accidents. it would be a disservice to gwen's character to ignore the hints of calculating ambition in her actions and to pretend the compromises she had to make to get where she ends up were easy. what's amazing about her is that she is the sort of lovely, warm woman whose kindness could get taken advantage of until there is nothing left, but instead she turned her love and wisdom into an asset that helped her, essentially, win the game of thrones. i just wish the writers had let this side of her shine through.

[rillian4e]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Wriothesley

cw: vaginal sex, finger sucking, spanking, slight size kink, fem!reader, daddy kink, use of pet names etc...

summary: your lover who was as usual, preoccupied with his work, endless responsibilities and paperwork for him to deal with, it was unbearable but he finally managed to find some time for you, how will you two spend it?

—

how long had it been since you last spent a night with your beloved? your mind cannot remember when it was, these past weeks were all the same work, work, work and more work. to say that that you've been missing him to death would be an understatement, his busy schedule left you feeling lonely and oh so helpless—wishing wriothesley was there to help you, to fuck you.

thankfully the day came eventually, wriothesley had told you he was finished with his work and you immediately squealed in happiness, going over to him and hugging him. as attentive as always, the duke was quick to notice what you really wanted. he knew you better than anyone and he'd be foolish to not have known that you'd be needy for him.

"missed me that much, love?" he cooed, giving you a kiss on the side of your head before placing you on top of his desk, your arms slipped around his neck, pulling him into a messy and desperate kiss. ah ...how much you've missed those lips of his, the way he knew exactly what you wanted.

you didn't waste any time in letting him know that you were impatient, your fingers sloppily fiddling with his belt—hoping to hear his approval before proceeding. he only chuckled at you, whispering a quick, "already moving that fast, sweetheart? go on, do what you want, no one's stopping you."

you undid his belt, freeing his already erect cock out of its confinement, the sight of seeing him like this had you realizing just how much you missed him and by the way he was already greedily marking up your neck, he must have missed you terribly as well. his hands were quick to pull down your panties but instead of filling you like you'd craved, his fingers went to your lips.

"open," you understood what he meant, obediently opening your mouth as two of his digits entered, your tongue swirled around them, sucking and licking as if it were his dick. "already such a smart girl, mh?" he giggled as he watched you, lightly pressing his fingers onto your tongue. you didn't know why but you adored when he'd do that, you loved having him inside you, be it your mouth or pussy.

soon his fingers left your mouth, instead going over to your throbbing core and slipping two inside, they went in so easily that it made you embarrassed yet needy for more—for something bigger. wriothesley pumped his digits inside you, curling them in the way that made you moan shamelessly on top of his desk, not caring about the papers underneath you. he really was good with his hands, you wondered when you first got together if they were good in other areas and you were right except they were far, far better.

"aa-ah! d-daddy, c-close! 'm close!" you whimpered, trembling as his fingers hit your g-spot, you could feel that all too familiar feeling forming in your tummy, you were so close as you looked at him for permission. his gaze was loving and tender but you could tell he was desperate himself to feel pleasure and have your tight walls around him but being the gentleman he was, he wouldn't ever let himself feel pleasure before his pretty little angel.

"go on cum, be a good girl and cum for daddy all over his fingers, okay?" the way he spoke was so attractive, his voice fueling your desire for him all the more as you felt yourself reaching your climax, your fluids covering his fingers. after pulling them out with a loud wet pop, he kissed you on the lips, leaving you no time to come down from your high.

"mmh, I'm going to fuck you now, that alright?" he asked, using his hand to tilt your head to look into his eyes—you nodded, letting out a "yes," and burying your head into his shoulder, impatiently biting into his skin. you almost wanted to whine and complain when you felt his tip tease your entrance, not entering as he rubbed his cock head between your pussy lips. you were about to complain when you felt him fully thrust into your cunt, immediately feeling awfully full.

"f-fuck...so tight, I needed this so damn much, princess." he groaned, pressing himself deep into your cunt, hitting your cervix as his thrusts got more rough, his hands spanking your ass, leaving red marks. you loved when he was so rough with you, his hands all over your body, applying firm pressure on your throat all the while fucking himself deep into your cunt. his balls slapping against the flesh of your butt while his lips smashed against yours, tongue seeking yours on instinct.

you'd never loved anything more than nights like these with him, rough and passionate love making between two desperate individuals. it was simply perfect for the two of you. wriothesley himself seemed pent up, his grip on your throat tightening and his pace relentless—manhandling you to his liking. "shit, I'm close... want me to breed this little pussy, hm? want daddy to fill you up with his seed?" his tone was low and husky, eyes meeting your teary eyed ones as you nodded, unable to muster enough strength for a proper sentence.

with you clenching around his cock, he quickly came inside you, filling your womb up, the feeling of fullness was so nice and delicious, but you were left confused when you saw him pull out, you were about to ask him why when you heard him clasp a hand over your mouth.

"hush, we will continue somewhere more private. make sure you don't let anything spill, angel." he put a kiss on your forehead, his finger putting back a bit of his cum that dripped down your thigh. you were embarrassed but still ever so unsatisfied, but maybe this was for the better. the continuous knocks and questions behind the door were starting to get annoying after all.

[astupidweeb69]

hello!! I am kinda nervous to write this bc I absolutely love your writing and the way you portray Toby is just so real. I love how you make him both a loser and a force of nature, like just bc he has no rizz doesn't mean he can't do anything lol. But I was lowkey thinking about your stories the other day and like, what if Y/N also had some screws loose? Like he pops up at her house covered in the blood of some guy who wouldn't leave her alone and instead of calling the police like a smart person she's just like: " 😳 omg you did this for me??" I know it's unrealistic and silly but it's also kind of interesting???

Ticci Toby x Violent! Reader

Toby with an unhinged reader? Well - there's a recipe for disaster lmao.

I know I said I'm not taking requests but this ended up becoming a scenario. I just had some inspo - hope this is what you were looking for! Because the reader isn't submissive? Idk

Y/N has some messed-up thoughts and there are mentions of violence under the cut!:

The reader I imagine in this case would have only seen how cringey Toby is - thinking he was just a creepy guy who's taken a liking to them and would avoid him at all costs. Probably up until this point assume that he's a wimp (Toby would initially try his best to seem weaker and unassuming when he approaches the person he likes)

The scenario I imagine is that Y/N grew up around conflict, and is fully comfortable around violence, even throwing a few punches themselves here and there. Maybe ended up in Juvie when they were younger and now works in some retail job - something where they regularly interact with the general public.

A customer tries to hit on Y/N when Toby's there - big mistake.

But Toby doesn't say anything at first.

He doesn't have to.

Y/N immediately shuts the customer down. But the guy doesn't let up. Curses are thrown back and forth, Y/N's wrist is grabbed.

He touched you.

Toby doesn't like that. Not one bit.

You get reprimanded by your boss after you punched the unruly customer in the face.

Luckily they didn't press charges.

You had a bit of an edge, from your surly demeanor and fucked sense of humor, but Toby had no idea you'd do that.

Kind of turned him on. He knew he picked you for a reason.

But alas, that was the extent of your revenge. You already had a record of aggravated assault and you didn't need another one added to the list.

Luckily for you that scrawny, lanky boy who always stared at you when he came in had a plan in motion.

Late at night, a knock on the door wakes you up from a nap on the couch. Of course, you look through the peephole first before answering.

Red.

Everything is red.

Only until you hear a familiar voice pipe up do you realize who it is.

Toby.

The blood covered so much of his face it was hard to point out who he was at first.

He speaks to you through the door, somehow already knowing you're there.

And he tells you what he did.

It takes a moment for you to process all the grizzly details, the way he followed the man, cornered him in an alley, and beat him so hard he'd pretty sure he cracked his skull on the brick wall.

He sounded giddy about it. Gleeful.

He was far from the loser you thought he was.

And you liked it.

Liked that he did that for you.

After all, in your head, hurting someone for someone else was the greatest form of love. It was the kind of devotion you'd always dreamed of from a partner.

You open the door.

Toby is surprised, but soon sees a look on your face he recognized. The kind of expression of sick joy and arousal that comes with blood lust.

You're blushing too. Blushing for him.

Everything was finally coming together perfectly, and once you let him into your home, he's never going to leave.

The relationship would start right off the bat. Toby is one to rush things.

It's all to claim you. Both mentally and physically. So you're attached to the hip pretty much. Expect a lot of PDA (Toby does not care who sees lol)

And a reader who's fully on board?

Yeah you're going to bring out the worst in each other. He'll encourage you to do more crimes, to get bloodier, to join him.

It would be a very bad situation for everyone involved.

But especially for anyone unfortunate enough to cross the paths of you two lovebirds.

[loveandleases]

Oh no, now I'm getting ideas about fantasy MC-

MC going through the whole cheating and falling out with their family, who are nobles, and leaving. Having no money or anyone to rely on since Cam went rogue. Becoming one of the most sought after courtesans, being so pretty and smart and well spoken. Cam hides on the brothel cuz he was being chased or following a lead. Asking for a courtesan to blend in and end up face to face with MC.

The tea is boiling Myriam 🍵

I'm loving the ones I have in my inbox atm. (more below the cut because I got carried away)

Cam doesn't dare let his guard down. Knowing that someone had been tailing him this long and this far out was surprising, especially considering he was positive he hid his tracks.

The rogue scoffs when he thinks of how close he got to having his neck slit just minutes before. For once, he would like a damned break. He sits at one of the low tables, waiting for the courtesan to come out to meet him. His eyes carefully scanning the other patrons'. Bodies pressed together, lips whispering sweet nothings. The room was warm, too warm for him really. Or maybe it was because he wasn't as used to the company as he liked to think. He had been in a brothel years ago, back when he was still young and naive, back when he knew nothing of another persons body under him. The thought alone causes him to shake his head. Knowing the reason he had even bothered to sleep with someone then was to get another person out of his mind, not like it worked. "C'mon, c'mon." His leg shakes anxiously under the table, one elbow propped on top, his hand holding a pint of ale, while the other rest in his lap, close to his dagger if needed. His eyes scan the entrance, good for him it was the only one. So he wouldn't be completely caught unaware. The voices of those around him begins to fade away to hushed whispers. The tension in the air thick, though with what it was hard to tell. Eyes trace a figure walking over to his lone table. Shit, do they know who I am? He carefully averts his gaze, instead facing the wall. Hoping the courtesan won't linger much longer, or he very well might be screwed once the assassins catch up. Soft footsteps stop beside him, a gasp from the table in front of him makes his stomach drop, he really doesn't want to bloody up the place. The person sits, hands carefully lifting up the the dark red fabric of their clothing. The color of blood. Not a speck of dirt in sight. His eyes soak in their very presence, their knees tucked neatly under them. Their hands unmarred, fingers delicately laced together. "Well, I take it I'm pleasing to the eye then?" The voice asks, causing his eye to furrow as he is about to refute. Then, it's as if his very breath is stolen. Those eyes, he had seen them before, haunting him in his dreams. Eye's he imagined when he was in his first bordello. It's as if they only see him. Which couldn't be the case, not with the mess he looks like. Hair a knotted wreck, his pale freckled skin marred with scars from over the years. "Why are you here?" "You called for a courtesan did you not?" Cam looks them over again. His throat bobbing as he forces himself to swallow, his pierced tongue darting out to moisten his lips. "Sorry, I must have heard you wrong. I could have sworn you said courtesan." He lets out a laugh, awkward and miniscule. Once he realizes MC isn't laughing with him his eyes bulge. "You can't be serious!" The other patrons' shoot a glare, some's eyes lingering on MC, at the bare skin poking out from the slits in their clothing. Bare skin that Cam is trying his best to ignore and yet his eyes still find them. He stands abruptly, yanking MC up. "What do you think you're doing? You didn't pay for rough se-" Cam's hand clamps over MC's mouth. "Don't you dare. Don't say another word." As they make their way to the doors, Cam peeking his head out looking to see if any assassins dare lurk by. MC leans closer, their breath warm among the cold night. "Sex." They whisper, causing Cam to jump, jerking MC behind him as he tumbles onto the cobblestone path. Even though the streets are dark, the light from the lanterns overhead highlight the redness of his cheeks, as he coughs into his fist. "What-" another dry cough. "what did I say!" He squeaks. Causing Mc to chuckle, patting Cam on the back.

[ashtavula]

Hi, I've been reading a lot of your work lately and I absolutely love them!

If it's not a bother can I request Jamil, Azul, Vil and Riddle with their S/O being the children of the great seven? Like they got isakaid there instead of yuu (I'm going to ask for all the Overblot boys because personally I think Idia, malleus and Leona are somehow related to the great seven, either a direct Descendants or distant relative)

Anyways thank you so much if you decide to do this and it's alright if you don't I just really love your writing style and works on the Overblot boys!!

This is a really interesting idea, considering all of the boys really respect the great seven!

Jamil, Azul, Vil, and Riddle with a reader who is the child of the great seven

Jamil:

-Jamil is usually reluctant to show off how smart he really is, but he feels like he has to prove his intelligence when he's with you. You are, after all, the child of the Sorcerer of the Sands. He fully believes that you must be just as wise as your father, even if you actually aren't.

-Jamil never refers to you by title, since it just reminds him that he's a servant, and you are the child of a grand vizier. He knows that you don't care, but he'd rather avoid bringing it up. Instead, he calls you habibi when you're both alone, and he can be more affectionate.

-He refuses to hear anything about you possibly returning to your home. Jamil knows that your father wouldn't approve of you dating a servant, and he can't stand the thought of losing you forever. All he can do is hope that you'll stay, against all odds.

Azul:

-Azul practically begs you to share what you know about your mother. He's always admired the Sea Witch, and he wants to know all there is to know. He'll light up if you reveal some of her wisdom to him, or show him how some of her magic was done.

-I assume that you're also an octopus mer, and that puts Azul at ease because you're like him. The two of you will both curl up in his octopot, giggling as his tentacles tangle with yours. Azul sweetly calls you his precious pearl as holds you, though he'll blush if you give him a pet name too.

-Azul is terrified that you'll leave him one day, and he tries his hardest to make you want to stay with him. He'll spoil you, and he constantly strives to prove that he's worthy of your love. He loves you too much to be able to bear losing you.

Vil:

-Vil doesn't want to push you too much, but the Fairest Queen is well-renowned for her poisons. Surely, you've learned from her, and can teach him. He also asks a lot about her beauty routines. He'll be ecstatic if you share any of her secrets with him.

-Vil adores being able to call you his beautiful prince/princess, and he tends to flaunt your relationship. He preens if you compliment him in return, and gets ridiculously happy if you call him your perfect prince. He feels tempted to record you telling him that, just so he can play it whenever he wants.

-He acts like he's not worried about you potentially leaving, but deep down he's scared that it will happen. He'd do just about anything to get you to stay with him, even if it meant facing off against the Fairest Queen.

Riddle:

-He gets even more serious about following the rules of the Queen of Hearts after realizing that she's your mother. Surely, you're pleased that he remembers all of them, right? Riddle would be baffled if you told him it wasn't necessary, or if you went so far as to criticize your mother for making up so many ridiculous rules.

-Riddle still refers to you by your title, but it's become a term of endearment. He'll kiss your hand as you stroll through the rose maze, and will affectionately call you his prince/princess. He also gets flustered if you refer to him as your prince. Or even better, your king.

-He worries that you miss your mother and your old home, but he desperately hopes that you'll stay with him. If it came down to you going back to your original place, Riddle would choose to go with you. Nothing is more important to him than his love for you.

[rain0tes]

No words can express how much it is doing HEHEUSVJSGSJZBWKUE to me, thank you for writing this, I shall take it and bite it

Can I request on how the other character staying in the hotel feel about the reader?

Of course you can, nonnie! I'm so glad people like hacker!reader so much 😭

How the other residents at the Hazbin Hotel feel about hacker!reader

Angel dust and you would not get along at first. His hypersexual nature puts you off, which he teases you for.

"what? can't handle a bit of teasing, sweet cheeks?"

"stay six feet away from me."

Eventually, when he does tone it down, he finds that he enjoys your company quite a bit. You're pretty down to earth, and probably the sanest resident in the hotel.

That doesn't make your conversations any less weird.

"so basically you can use 'ussy' as a suffix for anything that has a hole."

"So, like, spidussy?"

Collective groan from everyone else while you cackle uncontrollably.

Teaching sinners gen Z lingo aside, you two would get up to mischief very often (much to everyone else's annoyance). The whole "replacing every porno video with a rick roll" was actually his idea. Petty revenge!

Husk is mostly indifferent about you, up until he realizes that Alastor is interested in you in one way or another. He tries to warn you not to have anything to do with him. He would know. But then again you've never been one to be told what you can or can't do.

Annoyed when you make a deal with Alastor regardless of his warnings, but at least you didn't give up your soul(?)

You two get pretty close afterwards. Something about looking out for you since you're so impulsive.

He's the one who helps you adjust to hell, telling you about things you need to know.

Learns very quickly that once you've put your mind to something, there's no persuading you out of it.

"Husk! Let's go eat at that fancy restaurant, my treat."

"It takes months to get a reservation to that place. And neither of us can pay for it."

"I bumped our reservation for tonight. Besiiiiides, I don't think the Vee's would mind if I take a couple hundred dollars off of their account."

You're gonna get yourself killed one of these days.

He's gotta make sure to prevent it.

Vaggie does not appreciate you messing with the V's.

You try to assure her that they wouldn't find out, but she's still skeptic.

Point taken, you just hide what you're doing from her as much as you can.

She wonders if you really did stop but has a nagging feeling that you're just doing it behind closed doors instead of doing it in the hotels lobby.

"You're endangering everyone else in the hotel!"

"They're not smart enough to find out. Did you know that they have surveillance around the hotel? I can turn all of that off."

Well, so far, they really haven't found out.

But the moment you endanger anyone in the hotel, you're out.

Charlie was ecstatic the first time you came to the hotel after it had just been rebuilt. After a while of staying there, that excitement dies down as she realizes how much of a handful you are.

Still, she's glad to have you around. No one said that redeeming souls was an easy task.

Realizes way too late that you're not really interested in redemption.

Like a few months in way too late.

But at least they have a new technician? You're pretty adept with anything that works on electricity and the help is really appreciated. Especially now that they're confident they won't be spied on while you're around.

Also worried about you constantly messing with the V's, but she's more worried about your safety.

But her dad seems particularly fond over you, and Alastor said he'd make sure you won't get killed. You should be fine, right?

(masterlist)

[suugarbabe]

OMG congrats for 1k!!!!💚

Since you said would like Enzo requests, and your celebration seems very cute, a Enzo x Nott!Reader with the prompt of Soulmate aus?

Maybe Reader is Theo's younger sister and goes to another school, and knows/has heard of Enzo through Theo, and somehow they become pen-pals? Just writing letters to eachother, very sweet and friendly.

Then Theo invites his slytherin friends home, Enzo and Reader meet and they realize they are soulmates? With a sprinkle of overprotective older brother Theo.🤭💚

I really do love Lorenzo, please guys send me more Enzo recs i need them biblically

Enzo would have met you during summer holiday going into his fifth year, you in your fourth. You were instantly smitten (how could you not be). Being a Nott, you had your boldness to you as well, so you wrote him first.

When the owl dropped the first letter down in front of Enzo, Theo originally thought it was for him, given it was your owl. However, when he saw Lorenzo Berkshire in your loopy handwriting he instantly became angry; over protective.

"Why in the bloody hell did you just get a letter from my sister?" Theo threw the letter at Enzo, who's cheeks instantly flushed, "I-I don't know..." Which was the truth, he had no idea. He made the choice to not open it there, despite Theo's demands that he do.

Enzo instead opened it after everyone else had went to sleep. You were straightforward, flirty, telling Enzo how smart you thought he was, how kind his eyes were, how attractive you found him and how sad you were that you wouldn't be able to see him again until next summer.

He wrote you back, telling you of your beauty, admiring your wit and admitting that he was slightly afraid of Theo given the look he had received when your letter arrived.

But it went on like this, back and forth for weeks on end, Enzo even learning a little Italian to put it in his letters to impress you (and it did). And you found yourself growing fonder and fonder with each letter exchanged.

When Christmas holiday came around, Theo barged in your room, "My friends are coming next week and staying through New Years. Stay away from Enzo."

You scoffed, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, I know you're his little bloody pen pal or whatever you two call it. He's not allowed in your room and you two are not allowed alone together."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, "Who do you think you are? My father?"

It was Theo's turn to scoff, "Please, you're lucky it's me and not Papà."

You knew he was right, but you were just as stubborn as him, "I'm not making any promises." Theo stalked out of your room after that.

When the boys arrived, you appeased Theo and kept your distance. For as long as you could, anyway. Enzo had thought maybe he had done something wrong, written something that had upset you in his last letter before he arrived.

So when New Years Eve arrived and he felt himself being pulled from the hall into a room he was sure it was Theo about to beat the shite out of him.

When his back was pushed against the wall and he saw your face instead, he instantly let out a deep sigh, "Merlin's sake, love, I thought you were your brother."

You faked offense, "You expected Theo to bring you in to his room and snog you?"

"No! Wait, what did you say?" Enzo's face went through a few emotions. First shock, then his cheeks flushed and he couldn't help but stutter.

"I said," you took a step closer to him, "I pulled you in here with maybe not the most innocent of intentions."

You wrapped your arms around Enzo's neck, his hands finding solace on your hips nearly on instinct. You stood on your tip toes, lacing your fingers at the base of Enzo's neck and pulling him down slightly.

He responded without hesitation, his lips finding yours like a magnet. You knew in that moment that this one kiss wasn't going to be enough. His lips were too soft, fit yours too perfectly. He hands felt too good on your body and they barely strayed far from your hips.

When you finally pulled back Enzo was chasing your lips, successfully landing one, two, three more pecks on your lips before finally allowing you to speak.

"You should get back," he was saddened by your words, but nodded in understanding. "I know, but right now I feel like I would be okay with Theo being mad at me."

You giggled, thumb lightly tracing his cheek, "Well you know which room is mine, now you can come back after he falls asleep." Enzo held your face in both of his hands, placing one last long, hard kiss to your lips which you took as an acceptance to your plan before leaving you in your room alone, thoughts of later that night dancing in your head.

[pricegouge]

Fatted Rabbit Part Nine on AO3

Contents

Bear!John x reader | explicit

Over the next few days you're an emotional mess. There's a lot to unpack and while John's as far from any of your past partners as possible, the speed at which you've gone from 'never dating again' to 'if he calls me sweetheart one more time I'm gonna tell my mom about him' is alarming to say the least.

By the next morning you're quietly concerned you've gone and fallen in love. It would be enough to set you on edge if John wasn't so fucking sweet. He makes breakfast in his pajama pants again, serves you a 'cuppa' exactly as you'd made it the day before. He asks how you're feeling and if you need anything and kisses your temple, lips lingering on your forehead as if checking for a fever.

"'M'not sick," you remind him and he just grins against your skin, caught.

"I read last night that some people run fevers this time of month."

"Doing some light reading?"

"Mhm. Just wanna take care of you, honey."

"And what have you been doing?"

"Well, there's always room for improvement," he smiles. 

You'd expect that after a second date turned celibate two night stand, the two of you would've run out of things to talk about by now. Instead, John fills you in on his plans for the week (wait staff training and a meeting with a small business community chapter he says he'd rather pull his teeth out than attend), and gossips about how he's pretty sure Simon has a crush on Soap which gets you laughing. 

"Simon doesn't seem like he's ever had a crush on anyone."

"No, he's more of the 'decide he's in a relationship one day and hope the other person notices' type."

"How's that working out for him?"

"Dunno. He's yet to try it."

"And Soap's the man? Simon seemed pretty annoyed with him…"

"Tha's the hell of it. Fully expected to come back to one betta in the bowl, you know? Either the big guy's getting soft in his old age, or Soap's magnetism is universal."

"Well, it's definitely not that, " you laugh, thinking of the cocky Scot. 

"Mm. You gonna come downstairs with me? Let him try his charms on you again?"

You bite your lip. "No, but thank you. Think I'm gonna go for a hike today. Get some fresh air."

John's eyes widen in fake concern. "You see that bear again you tell him you're spoken for now, yeah?"

You can't help the grin that spreads across your face, feeling like a child. It only grows when you see John smiling contentedly back at you. "I don't know. What if he gets mad? Don't wanna piss a bear off."

"Smart rabbit. Suppose I'll just have to share."

"Man, all the local girls are gonna be so mad when they realize I've managed to snag the two biggest studs in town," you wink.

John's answering smile is the toothy one that always leaves you a little breathless, a disturbing mix of nervous and excited. 

Well, disturbing in that you know you shouldn't trust him with this feeling. You remember his jealous comment the other night, the one you'd wanted to reflect on when sober. Today seems like a good time for it, considering how easily he's managed to reduce you to mushy sentiments. 

"Think we're the lucky ones, bunny."

You make your excuses soon after and John sends you off with a rumbly, 'Don't get eaten.' It should probably be taken seriously - there is, after all, a massive, oddly behaving bear that may or may not be stalking you - but something about the way he says it reminds you of the way he'd stuck his face in your crotch like a starved man, kept comparing you to food; you're fuzzy with embarrassment when he opens the Jeep door for you.

"Well. Wanna keep the bear happy, but maybe not that happy, you know?"

"Mm, good rabbit." Earthquake pitch again, felt more than heard as he leans in to kiss you goodbye. When he pulls back, he looks a bit more serious. "Don't suppose I can convince you to come back later and spend the night?"

It's sweet, but you suspect it's extended more out of concern for your safety than a genuine desire to spend another night with you. It combines with your growing need for time to think to get you demuring. "No thanks. Need a break from your snoring."

John huffs, unbothered. "Fair. Well, don't be afraid to call if you need anything. I'll be busy with the staff today but it should die off after nine. Text, yeah?"

"Sure thing, pumpkin." You're trying for sarcastic. Miss entirely. Disconcerting. 

"Up you get, bunny." And then you're being guided up into the Jeep as if you weigh nothing and shit that's gonna leave you lightheaded every time. "We'll make plans later in the week?"

"Sure. Get with Simon about ideas. Maybe we can get together for a double date?"

John laughs, loud and sudden. "Oh, I'd pay good money to see Simon on a date. Bet you he'd go in for a kiss without taking that mask off." You're not sure if it's appropriate to laugh at that, so you don't. John doesn't seem bothered, carrying on. "But alright. You gonna come watch your match with me tomorrow at least? No obligation to spend the night. Promise."

You want to say yes, definitely, but a bigger part of you knows you should get some space and perspective. You've fallen hard and fast, and not only could that be dangerous, it was also straight up unwise after the kind of relationship you just got out of. And you'd accidentally told him you didn't want to be casual. That was… you didn't regret it, per se. Just wish you'd held your tongue a little longer.

"Got a sales meeting," you blurt. Fuck, that's stupid. Why even lie? John's not gonna care if you want to skip a few nights.

"Sales meeting?"

"Yeah… international company. Some of the meeting times can be odd."

"...Okay."

"Okay. But we'll definitely see each other soon, eh?"

"Whenever you're ready, sweetheart," he says softly. Fuck, too softly. He's onto you. Fuckshit.

"I'm lying," you blurt, unable to stand the kicked puppy look on his face another moment.

John's face cycles through surprise and amusement quickly, lands on slightly patronizing. "Really?"

"Yes. Sorry. I don't know. I guess I just thought you'd be mad if I just said no."

"No reason to be mad, bunny," John hedges and you're unsure if it's worse to read his apprehension as hurt or the recurring concern he adopts whenever you're being too obvious. He's too sweet.

"Right. Well, it's not that I don't want to see you again, anyway. I just think some space would be smart. I'm  kinda… getting over a bad breakup, I guess, so I don't want to rush into anything ill-advised, you know? Not that I think this is ill-advised!" you add quickly, clocking something dark growing on the edges of his expression. "Just… want to think some things over, if that makes sense?"

A beat. John's expression is tight, but it reminds you more so of the time those idiots at the rink called you fat than of any time Phil donned the same expression. "Of course, bunny. Can I ask… your breakup… Anything I need to worry about?"

You nearly laugh. "God, no. Well, only if he shows up suddenly, I guess, but not for the reason you're probably assuming."

"What do you mean?"

"Another time," you wave him off. "Just know I'd sooner die than go back to Phil so no worries there."

He definitely doesn't look satisfied, but thankfully doesn't press. "Okay, bunny. Take your time. Let me know when you're available, yeah?"

You sigh, borderline exasperated for no real reason. "Told you to stop being so sweet. I don't know what to do with it."

John smiles, a little sad. "Well, we'll just have to get you used to it, then."

***

Over the next few days you're an emotional mess. There's a lot to unpack and while John's as far from any of your past partners as possible, the speed at which you've gone from 'never dating again' to 'if he calls me sweetheart one more time I'm gonna tell my mom about him' is alarming to say the least.

You're not ashamed to admit that - while you'd already been pretty crazy about him - a non-zero amount of this sudden infatuation is proximity and remember-when-he-dragged-that-hot-tongue-up-your-pussy-even-though-you'd-already-established-he-wasn't-getting-laid-tonight induced. Two weeks ago the thought of even touching yourself had made you cringe, but here John stuck his fucking face in your crotch and you'd simply melted. He could've done it, you're not afraid to admit. You can blame it on the alcohol, the desperation to feel good after everything - whatever you need to tell yourself, but at the end of the day you know he could have done it and you would have liked it and that's really all there is to say on that, isn't it?

Except it's not. Because he hadn't. Because you were drunk and he'd said he wouldn't.

You'd wonder at your luck, rebounding with a decent guy, but you're surprised how much you don't want John to be something casual like that. You hadn't been lying when you'd said as much, though you'd been debating if you'd accidentally stuck your foot in your mouth ever since. It's not that you don't want a relationship with John - far from - it's just that you're not sure how smart it is to rush into anything right now.

You spend a day out by Whitefish, hoping the physical distance will help you gain perspective, but it doesn't. John occupies ninety percent of your thoughts. When you wake up, you miss the heavy warmth of him. Midday, you think about texting to see how Simon and Soap are getting along. It's easy when the sun's out and your general demeanor is less dire. During the day, you focus on how sweet he is; but at night your doubts creep in, and you remember the blatant jealousy and the way the divot between his brows denotes an anger he steadfastly denies. 

Phil used to deny his aggression, too.

You don't honestly believe John has yet been angry with you, but that cloudy look makes you gun shy, and you've honed your instincts to a knife point over the last few years so you're loath to ignore them now. There's no denying you're a different person than you were when you'd met Phil. Before, you would have ignored these issues in favor of the stability he'd brought you; but you're currently content to be as unstably homeless as possible so long as you can keep yourself safe (relatively).

This just leaves the question of John, and whether or not you ought to listen to that tiny voice in your head. If it were just the quick temper that worried you, you could write it off as PTSD induced paranoia, but the growing regularity with which he can reference instances he was not present for is raising some hairs. It makes you feel crazy for even considering it, but you've lived under some level of surveillance before. Phil used to throw things you'd said or done in private in your face just to remind you he could. Prove he had control. John doesn't sound threatening when he does it, but it doesn't sound purely coincidental, either. 

After five days of mulling it over, you're feeling a lot better. Clarity comes piecemeal and sluggish, but it does come:

In the greasy smear of a pan you'd used to make a grilled cheese, you divine that you don't need to know if you're ready for a real relationship. At the end of the day, the two of you have only been on two dates. You may have agreed on wanting to be more than casual, but it's still not like you exchanged vows or anything. You're allowed to stop overthinking and just enjoy John's company. And you feel like an idiot when you're sitting lakeside, just enjoying the sun, and suddenly realize that while you'd technically only left Phil a few weeks ago, you've been downright fucking pupal for years. When you're in the thick of it, it's so easy to drown yourself in the to-do's and the now-what's and the where-can-I-hide-this that it's enough to think of your actions as nothing but that - actions. Can't see the forest for the trees, as it were. But now you recognize that you've basically been a single woman living under extremely unpleasant circumstances for years now. It's an oversimplification, of course, but the situation you're in now doesn't necessarily require further elaboration. You're finishing off your crochet project when you remember people are allowed to just be angry sometimes and that doesn't make them dangerous. John is no threat. For better or worse, staying with Phil long after you'd gotten wise to his ways had at the very least made you confident you could spot a viper at ten clicks. You'd been quite close and personal with John and he'd never once raised your hackles in any way that wasn't reasonable, or at least couldn't easily be explained away. 

Of course, once you've come to these conclusions, you allow yourself to start missing him. He's been so sweet through all of this, but the fact that he's been good about giving you space these last few days has stood out in your mind as one of the top reasons you're sure you've just been a bit obstinate re: allowing yourself to be happy. You've kept your distance for nearly a week and although you could read it plain as day on his face how much it upset him when you'd said you'd wanted time, John's been content to just wish you a good morning and ask how your day went at night. He never pries to see how you're feeling, or what you're thinking, or where you are, or even what you're up to. Basically just wants confirmation you're still alive and then he leaves you alone, just as you'd wanted.

Except, as the days go by, you begin to realize that isn't what you want. Not the obvious concern - that's sweet, actually, especially when your friend the bear is becoming an almost nightly visitor - but the self-inflicted loneliness. You're not sure you wanted John to chase you, exactly (you're not in middle school after all), and you're thankful he took your concerns seriously, but something about it has made you feel… bereft.

"Think it's the hormones," you inform the bear one night. He seems to agree, if the way he sniffs and drools all over the seal of your window is any indication. You're over your period by now, but your impending horny week might be responsible for your unreasonable expectations. "What do you think? I should bite the bullet, eh? Man's not a mind reader, after all." 

It lowers, somehow both excited and miserable. If you didn't know him any better, the thick saliva it's currently trying to wash your Jeep with would be disconcerting, but you're fairly confident he's just excited about the honey he smells in your front seat. Probably. If it was rabid it would be dead by now, surely?

"Guess I'm just not used to getting what I want," you grumble, perhaps a little self-pitying. If he finds you pathetic, the bear doesn't let on. He takes a moment to look you directly in the eye and moo, licking the window for good measure.

In the morning, John asks if you'd be interested in joining him on a trip to the local flower shop.

Next>>

[lyss-sketchbox]

My thoughts on Inazuma vs Natlan so far. Is that Inazuma dropped the ball. There's no questioning that. It was rushed and the resolution lacked weight, and it almost definitely needed a lot more space to breathe and probably would've benefited from the 5 act structure instead of speedrunning with 3 acts (such as needing actual time spent with the Watatsumi Resistance rather than spending like 30 minutes tops).

HOWEVER. I feel like the initial Act I-II of Inazuma did a great job established the STAKES. It showed us the very real damage being caused by the various unjust decrees and why people are fighting. Natlan I kinda felt like did a lot of telling instead of showing, and any potential stakes feel kinda... Unserious? Because no one's really seriously hurt and even if they're saying Natlan will explode soon, I'm not really feeling like it's as dire as they're trying to sell it.

BUT IVE BEEN INFORMED YOU CAN DO NATLAN OUT OF ORDER??? Like you could in theory do Natlan BEFORE Inazuma thru Fontaine (with the quick-start function) which is why Natlan is more 'self-contained' which is absolutely insane to me?? Like HELLO???

Overall, I feel like the concepts and plot presented in Natlan is fine. But they didn't do a good enough job of selling to me these things. Like the whole child soldiers stuff kjadf like we actually dwelled on it for longer than a millisecond, we'd probably realize that's super fucked up!! But instead we gloss over it, making the whole quest seem fairly light-hearted despite everything.

Rubs my hands together ok anon lets talk cuz yeah i have thoughts

About inazuma

I definitely agree with you that Act 1-2 (especially 1) of inazuma did well setting up and showing how much negative impact the shogun's rule has impacted the people:

Vision holders literally losing a chunk of themselves (or worst, their lives) from their vision being confiscated.

Non-vision holders risking their lives for helping said vision holders (the resistance)

International traders being stuck in the nation, repressed by local government, and scammed by local traders just to keep business alive.

Local government bloating the price of everything!!! (And being able to get discounts only if you have connections)

Corruption even in the highest positions (gestures at the Kujou clan)

Fatui meddling that lead to the deaths of many for profit

The shogun literally programmed her robot to be that heartless because she herself dont give a shit about any of these issues. As long as her eternity stays.

Fr after venti and zhongli, getting an archon that acts as a proper ruler of a nation AND an antagonist sounds COOL AS FUCK. The booba sword scene while yeah, boobs wooo, also was a wonderful show of her authority over her nation.

After that they tripped and fell in Watatsumi. While i appreciate the environmental story telling of Watatsumi's and Shogunate's bases during the war, we barely get enough time to do... ANYTHING of substance. If i remember correctly, we became team captain, then do a bunch of training and defeating vagrants (on our own because friendly npc fighters didnt exist yet) and thats it. Where is the plotting? Wheres the planning? It was all just an anime training montage we barely get to see or feel. I genuinely feel like we couldve just replaced the entire Watatsumi arc with 'the fatui is selling delusions to people with confiscated visions to help them cope with the lost so traveller go to the delusion factory' and NOTHING wouldve changed. Hell it wouldve made ALOT more sense why yae came to save us at the end if the whole thing happened in Narukami.

Also after all that SHOWING they did alot more TELLING about wooo how smart kokomi is she is so smart and cool and the savior of the resistance. Like girl the fatui had their grip on your soldiers to the point they almost didnt want to surrender their delusions what are you on about. While you can argue she was only a priestess before the war and had no war intellegence skills, the people prop her up as such, kujou sara took her seriously. So she has to have some merit. Well im not seeing any (fight me on this i dont fully remember what happens in watatsumi)

Also at the end we fight the literal dictator of the nation with the power of friendship then everyone and i mean EVERYONE forgave said dictator...... cool. They would definitely benefit from an extra act so that watatsumi adds to the idea that this civil war and the shoguns current decree is causing damage.

About AR

The thing is that the requirements for you to start Natlan AQ is to be AR 28 and finish Liyue AQ (which requires AR 29 for the entire thing). While starting Inazuma requires AR 30, Sumeru needs AR 35, and Fontaine needs AR 40 (highest AR requirement by far).

Id argue that each nation is supposed to be a self-contained story. Even so, based on AR requirements theyve been chronologically in order because you NEED to complete the previous AQ to start the next. EXCEPT for Natlan.

While this is obviously to be more open to new and returning players, it really.... decreases the stakes, like you would assume the more we progress the tougher challenges we will have to face. But Natlan? Nawww you can go to Natlan without fighting the dictator 👍

About Natlan

I AM ADDRESSING THE CHILD SOLDIER THING FIRST BECAUSE YES. THEY DEFINITELY DID ALOT MORE TELLING THAN SHOWING HOW THIS CHILD APPARENTLY CAN BE SENT TO WAR WITH A REAL CHANCE OF DYING!!!!! I talked about this before because they ironically did alot more showing how child like Kachina is which adds more to the FUCKING CHILD SOLDIER THING.

HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO BE OKAY WITH THIS??? Oh its our nations culture, its just the culture shock, OKAY YEAH BUT THE TRAVELLER AND PAIMON ARENT NATLAN NATIVES AND THEY DONT FEEL ANYTHING ABOUT THIS????? Wow yey cheer for the child to go to war! BRO SHE DIED AND WE WENT JACOOZIING WHILE WE WAIT FOR HER TO RETURN FROM WAR...............

ITS VERY OBVIOUS INFANTILIZATION BECAUSE IANSAN DIDNT FUCKING GET THE SAME TREATMENT. You know, the other small girl character there, nah she went to war just like Kachina, lived, and stood by the Archon and WAS READY TO THROW HANDS WITH A HARBINGER IF THE ARCHON DIDNT FUCKING FIGHT HIM HERSELF.

Everything just feels so.... chill? So relaxed with no stakes at all. I mean yeah the Abyss is creeping into the nation's roots but instead of sending armies we make it a tournament. Yeah people die in these excursions but we can revive them so we can ignore the horrors of experiencing death. Yeah the flames are dying so the archon has to give up some of her power to keep it lit but its okay! The harbinger is a gentleman that wont take this opportunity to do some scheming. We need the power of the chosen one of each tribes to save natlan but hey cant rush it! We got a year after all teehee.

Man. Head in hands. What the fuck.

Not even gonna go into the whole the archon is human but mavuika is the one that got reincarnated to retake the role just in time to solve a national crisis thing. Because i dont even know if THAT is accurate.

If they somehow trip and fall worse than inazuma id actually be amazed because the bar is very very low.

[dontforgetoctober3rd]

Come Go With Me

A Michael Gavey fic.

EDIT: Now with art! (just a sketch tho)

Summary: It's the spring of 2007 and Michael Gavey has so far kept to the vow he made to never socialize again after Oliver ditched him. Then he meets a cute girl at a coffee shop. Will the vow stand strong or immediately go down the drain?

Word Count: 3986

Rating: T (plenty of swearing, instances of misogyny, objectification of the female body, atrociously incorrect bagel eating, New York City slander, etc.)

Author's Note: yes, the title is the song by Expose. Also, I'm a corny writer.

Divider by @cafekitsune

“I don’t know or care what Oliver Quick is doing this summer,” Michael said, continuing to type on his laptop, not even making eye contact with whoever asked the question.  The guy who asked left without saying anything further.

Some random guy in the library asked Michael if it was true that Oliver was going to be spending the summer with Felix on his family’s estate.  It was more about prying into Felix’s business than him wanting to know anything about Oliver, Michael thought.  Oliver was not on the same level of being interesting (in the eyes of the general student populace) that the Cattons were.  

Michael didn’t give a shit that Oliver was going to fancy fucking Saltburn with his new, snobby, loser, nepo baby friends for the summer.  Really, he didn’t.  When Oliver humiliated him at the bar, he made the decision then to swear off any further socializing at the university.  It was the best thing he ever did.

Already, he felt less anxious.  He had more time to focus on his coursework.  More time to read new books, attend off campus lectures.  Walks in the park by himself were quite relaxing when he didn’t have to think about topics to keep a stilted, dying conversation going.  He even went so far as to set aside time to play video games again.  Every weekend, for one hour and a half, he lost himself in Fable on his Xbox.  

Michael still felt the sting of the bar betrayal from time to time, as he thought he had finally found a true friend in Oliver (or at least, the potential for him to become one).  The new, lone path taken had helped him realize that he was not the problem.  Oliver was just an asshole, like the majority of those who went to Oxford.  

Sometimes Michael wondered why people didn’t like him.  Must be how smart he was.   There was nothing weird about being good at math.  What was so awful about being good at math, anyway?  He guessed that most peoples’ biggest issue with his smarts was that it reminded them they were stupid. Oh well!  Plenty of time for activities by himself now.

One of those activities was fast became his favorite, after only his fourth visit.  Visiting a little coffee shop he had discovered near the river, he was able to “mingle” among people without having to talk to anyone. No one would bother him here and he would still get his dose of human contact which, after all, was vital to the psychological constitution of a person.  As rigid as he intended on being with his new No Socializing At Oxford vows, Michael did not intend on becoming a psychopath.  Besides, the baristas never got his order wrong. They never talked to him beyond the perfunctory taking of his order but after the third time, when he walked in, instead of asking what he would like the person at the register had asked “The usual?” and Michael would just say yes, thank you, and then pay.

Michael packed up his laptop, shoving it and the charger into his reusable Tescoe bag along with his notebooks. He stood and adjusted his sweater, checked all his pant pockets were buttoned up and zipped closed.  He kept his visits only to every other day so as to not have the monotony grate on his nerves. The coffee shop made fresh bagels every day, however, and he had been looking forward to enjoying one all morning (his favorite was blueberry).  He liked to eat his a certain way, scooping out the insides of each slice before finally eating the hollowed out crusts.  Someone at school would surely have an opinion about his bagel-eating method (not that he cared) but at the coffee shop, Michael was left in peace.

 Walking briskly through the library doors and outside in the crisp spring air, he didn’t even look in direction of Oliver walking up the steps into the library with Felix.  They were laughing about something but Michael didn’t even breathe in their direction.

—---------

The delicious smell of bread baking hit him in a wave as he stepped into the coffee shop.  It looked like a rush had just hit, the baristas busy cleaning and restocking various items.  

“Hi! I’ll take your order right over here.” came the chipper voice.  Michael turned.

Oh god, a new hire. An American one (he was pretty sure the accent he heard was American) Maybe he wasn’t entitled to feel irritated about changes in the store, it's not like he owned the damn thing, but Michael felt irritated just the same.  This was HIS spot and someone new had just invaded it.

The new girl had long hair parted in the middle, tied back in a bun.  The hair was turquoise. A very bright turquoise, almost neon, he would say.  It pissed him off even more. Dyed hair was so fucking tacky.

He trudged to the register, hating every second of anticipating having to deal with someone new, someone chatty, even for something as impersonal as coffee.  

The girl was almost as tall as he was, eye-level to him, smiling the fakest fucking smile he had ever seen.  I mean, it had to be fake.  Who looked this happy to be taking a stranger’s order? He didn’t even bother attempting to smile back.  Whatever.  Get my coffee, bitch Michael though.

“I’ll have a large vanilla coffee, sugar free, with a blueberry bagel.” 

“Ah, so just cutting back on the sugar but can’t quite quit it altogether, eh?” the girl said with a wink and another smile, totally unperturbed by his attitude.

Michael pursed his lips and said nothing.  The girl, still unbothered, looked down and clacked away on the touch screen.  He quickly looked over her in the few seconds she imputed his order.  

She had long, acrylic nails, painted a pastel kind of purple.  Her name tag said Cat, which he guessed was short for Catherine.  Maybe.  Also her boobs were big.  Not normal big, but stripper big.  Not that he would know, but still.  Too big for the word “boobs”, for sure.  Tits seemed like a more appropriate word.  If he had ever been to a strip club he was pretty damn sure stripper tits would look exactly like hers.  And she had tattoos covering the entirety of her left arm.  Classy, he thought condescendingly. No wonder she was working here instead of somewhere like a bank.

Michael wondered if she had tattoos on her chest as well…he was so sure he could avert his gaze before she noticed but suddenly her fingers snapped and her head lowered into his line of vision, a smug look on her face.  Small wisps of hair hung in front of her ears, he noticed.

“You lose something. buddy?” she asked.  

“I didn’t mean-I was just looking at your name tag.” he sputtered, fidgeting with a cuff of his sweater.  

“Look, it's fine. They’re tits.” 

Michael flinched slightly at her casual use of the word.  It was one thing to talk like that with other guys, but girls? What was she trying to prove?  Tits tits tits. He made a point to stare straight into her eyes and not look away while she continued to speak. “Its not a big deal, I promise,” she said, finishing up his order on the register and offering her hand to take payment. 

Choosing not to respond, Michael set his Tesco bag on the counter so he could unzip one of his pockets to get at his credit card.  The pocket it was in was hard to open and the zipper always caught, so two hands were needed.  

“You can look, you know,  just don’t be creepy about it.” she continued, as he struggled slightly with the pocket.  

Michael did not look at her as he handed over the card. 

Being branded a “creep” was the last thing Michael needed.  He was already the Lonely Nerd at university, he really did not want to become the Creepy Lonely Nerd (that ogles stranger’s tits).  Not that he would give a shit what people thought, but one less socially crippling label was better than one more.

“I mean, it’s not like I can leave them at home, right?  I don’t mind a little look here and there!” she said with a laugh, handing back his card. Unbelievable.  She was still talking about her tits! 

“Can I get that to go?” Michael answered more than asked.  

“Sure thing. Uh, what’s your name?”

“I’m Michael.” He was not staying here. He was not going to stay and become the Creepy Tit Guy.  Given her outgoing nature, Cat would probably have something to say about the way he ate his bagel, too, he was sure of it.  He would become Creepy Tit And Weirdo Bagel Eating Method Guy if he stayed. Maybe dealing with this at university would have been easier but this was supposed to be his relaxation spot. The coffee shop was ruined for him now, he would never come back.  Ever.  Fuck this place and fuck her.

“Alrighty, dude. Be right back!” 

“My name is not…dude..” Michael stepped away from the register, his voice fading away to nothing as Cat got his order ready, unable to hear him.  There was no one else coming in right now, it seemed he came during a lull. The other employees were still cleaning and restocking. 

“Here you go!” Cat said with a smile, handing him his bagel in a paper wrap and his coffee. 

Still not looking at her, he took his bagel and his coffee and got the fuck out of there, practically powerwalking away. 

 It was only until he made it to a nearby park bench that he finally saw what Cat had written on the other side of his bagel wrapper.  A whole paragraph, practically.  Michael, sorry for making you feel uncomfortable. I was just trying to be funny, I swear.  Enjoy your coffee.  Hope you come back! 

Michael felt relief for a moment, before loudly groaning and spilling some of his coffee as he made to slap his forehead with that same hand.  He had left his fucking Tescoe bag at the coffee shop.  His bag that had his computer, his notebooks, his finished papers for a couple of classes. 

He had to go back.  Fuck.

“Yeah, sorry, but she said she knew you.”

Michael swore. The cashier informed him that Cat had just left, her shift was over.  She had taken the bag with her to the Oxford library.  Apparently, she was a student there?  Who fucking knew!?

“You need me to call the police?”

“No, that’s all right, I do know her.”  Michael lied.  “I told her earlier I’d be headed to the library later.  She probably figures she can catch me there.”  Without a single, civil ‘thank you’, Michael practically fled the shop.

He didn’t care how dumb it looked that he was frantically looking everywhere in the library for the familiar, turquoise hair.  People always looked at him funny.  It’s not like he could go to each of them individually and ask them hey could you please stop snidely whispering every time you look in my direction? Old Michael would go back to his dorm, have a cry, wonder why no one liked him and then quickly finish his homework in his dungeon of a bedroom before crying some more and then going to sleep.

New Michael didn’t give a shit.  New Michael was focused 100 percent on his academics and self-care, and right now his academics were in jeopardy because that Tesco bag held papers he had yet to type (Michael liked to hand write his work first, he felt it was more thorough). Also, maybe New Michael should better remember to not forget his shit at random shops.  Old Michael wouldn’t have forgotten. Whatever. 

After scanning the entire first floor of the library, he stomped to the second floor.  If she was a student here, how had he never seen her?  The hair would have been hard to miss.  Of course, it's not like he made it a habit to people watch anymore, especially in the library. 

Suddenly, he saw her.  Way in the corner, at a table right under a huge window, he saw her returning with her nose in a book from the shelves.  On the table, his bag.  

“Give it here.” Michael said, approaching the table.  Cat looked up from her book.

God, she was pretty.  He felt like a troll next to her.  It was so fucking unfair. More importantly though…why was he telling her to hand the bag back?  It was HIS.  He should just take it and go, without a word.  She had basically stolen it.  The girl was a thief and took it to give him a hard time because she was a bitch, like every other pretty girl he had ever interacted with and been cut down by. Maybe he could like her if he gave it a try…but the days of trying to get people to think he was cool or amazing were over.  She was a bitch and he knew it.

Mmm not what the note on your bagel showed, an annoying voice in his head began. That note could only have been written if she liked you because who would write that for a random customer?  You should talk to her an-  

Oh, fucking christ.  Old Michael.  Desperate-to-be-liked-by-someone-ANYONE Michael.  Shut the fuck up, Old Michael. You are dead.

“Yeah, no problem, I mean it is your bag!” Cat said cheerfully, closing her book and holding the bag out to him. “Sorry you had to run all this way to get it, Michael.”

“Um, it’s ok.  I run fast.” Michael said, immediately regretting it. God, that sounded so fucking stupid. He reached out for his bag.

Oh, so we’re no longer on that socializing ban, huh, Mr. Comedian?  I mean, what was THAT?!  Old Michael thought slyly. Shut up shut up shut up shut up!!!!! And, look!  She remembers your name! SHUT UP.

“-couldn’t just leave it there, you know?” Cat had finished saying.

Michael froze. “Huh?” 

What had she been talking about?  Shit. “Uh, why not?” Please let that be the right response.  Please let that be relevant to what she was fucking saying, Michael thought desperately. 

Cat rolled her eyes, but still sounded…not like a bitch?  “The laptop would definitely have been long gone if I hadn’t taken the bag.  I couldn’t just leave it there.”

Oh.  That was it.  That had been all she had said. Michael nodded and mumbled his thanks, ready to go…except Cat still held onto the bag. And stopped him with her next words.

“You play Fable a lot?”she asked.

It’s a trap.  She is going to make fun of you, he thought to himself.  Just get your shit and go. His hand was also still on HIS bag.  That she was not letting go of, for some reason.

“Yeah, I like it a lot.” 

Oh, how riveting.  That will make her swoon! Old Michael chimed in. 

“Really?” Cat responded.  Her tone wasn’t mocking.  It was…interested?  “I like it too but it feels unfinished, somehow.  I wish they would release Fallout 3 for these new consoles already, I bet it would be 1000 times better than this crap that Lionhead put out.”

Michael nodded.  She liked Fallout? She was impatient for the release?? Ask her to go with you to the midnight release next year!!! Ask her ask her ask her ask- No.  Shut up.  Be normal, for once in your life, be normal and chill about something. 

“-able doesn’t feel like it’s TRULY a good rpg, where you can do whatever you want, you know?  You can only go in one direction and can’t put off the main quest at all.”

She was still talking about Fable.  She was still talking about video games, something they both liked, something they had in common.

This is your chance, you know. Old Michael piped in.  Did any of those other people ever show even the slightest interest in the stuff you were into?  Ever? Ask her out!

“Ok,” Michael began. “I see your point, but the mechanics of the game aren’t the star so much as the incredible story and character designs-” 

While he continued to go on a tangent of Fable’s good qualities to Cat, trying his best not to sound too rant-y, Michael frantically gave the idea of asking her out some thought…

What if she said no? Hm what if she says yes? 

It’s stupid. The release for Fallout 3 is next year.  No, not even.  It’s October of that year, so…over a year away!  Almost two fucking years! What kind of weirdo would ask someone on a date almost two years from now?! Plus, she isn’t even into me.  She just likes video games, like any other person.  

Why is she still holding onto your bag, then? Old Michael thought smugly.  Why did she write that little note on your bagel? Why did she remember your name? Why-

All right, all right.  

“Right, so…want to come? To the midnight release for it?  For Fallout 3?” Michael asked, throwing all caution to the wind and swallowing his preemptive rejection rage that already was bubbling up.

“For Fallout?” Cat said, still holding onto the bag. “Which store you going to?” 

“Target.” Please say yes.  I don’t even know you and I know it’s weird to ask you somewhere practically two years from now but PLEASE SAy YES, Michael thought.

“Mm, nah.” Cat, said, letting go of the bag to dig in her bookbag.

Shit. 

Michael’s chest began to hurt, the hand holding his bag falling limply to his side.  He could feel his eyes begin to water.  She was just like the rest of them. Pathetic.  So pathe-

“You should come with me to Game on Queen Street, they always price cut!” Cat said, whipping out her blackberry. “Whatever price we show them for the game, they’ll shave 5 off it!  I mean, it’s not much but I’ll take what I can get! Here, put your number in.”

On sheer autopilot, Michael put his number in.  He felt ashamed the entire time, having choked back a scathing insult at the last minute before Cat had shoved her phone at him.

“Are you ok?” Cat took her phone back, eyeing him with a concerned look.

“I’m fine! It’s just-probably something I caught the other day, I can already feel the sniffles coming on and whatnot.  It’s nothing!” Michael babbled.

It cannot be this easy, Michael thought.  It’s been this easy the entire time?  Hanging out with a girl?  Talking to her?  Making plans?  Why did Oliver never like him when they had so much in common?

Holy shit, forget about fucking Oliver! You have a date with your future wife! Old Michael practically screeched. Jesus fucking Christ, you are desperate. Shut the fuck up!! Be Normal!

“You wanna go back to the shop and get another bagel?” Cat asked, putting her books away and sliding on her bookbag. “ We could use my discount, that way-”

“Yeah, let's go.” Michael cut in.  Grabbing her wrist and not waiting for her answer, he turned and began to swiftly move through the library.  He tried not to get excited as Cat uttered a quick ‘cool’ and kept pace with him.  

He also tried not to think about how awkwardly he was holding her hand. Everyone in the library was staring, he saw it in his peripheral.   It had looked so cool in his brain but now everyone could see how his stupid hand around her wrist slightly resembled him holding his limp-no no no no noooo shut up shut up SHUT UP. 

“Blueberry runs out quick.” Michael said, as they both briskly walked.   “I went one time at around this hour instead of my usual time and I had to settle for onion, which is gross as shit.” You’re rambling, Old Michael chided.  She fucking works there, she doesn’t need a play-by-play of bagel supply issues. Let her say something, idiot!  The reason he never noticed her before, it turned out, was that she hadn’t dyed her hair yet.  Cat also began to tell him about her history degree.  Something about the American Gilded age and how she was deep into research of the British Astors or something.  Michael surprisingly found himself not bored.  Were her eyes fucking green?  Oh, fuck, they were green!

They finally saw the shop in the distance.  Right after his anti-onion bagel tirade and her talk of her studies, he set straight into a long-winded verbal onslaught on the statistics of how rare green eyes were.  Micheal thought his heart would fall out of his asshole when Cat adjusted their hands so her fingers were laced with his.  About halfway through the distance, he had cut in when she mentioned her favorite bagel flavor (pineapple) and talked her ear off the rest of the way about his bagel eating method, insisting on its practicality but really prepping her so that she wouldn’t be horrified when she saw him do it and ditch him like fucking Oliver.  She laughed. 

“That’s so L.A. of you.  New York would hate your fucking guts, though.” she said, with a grin.   “Good thing I’m a California girl!  I’d rather deal with horrible traffic and scooped bagels than having to fight rats for sidewalk space.”

Right before they got to the doors, Michael went for it.  “I’m telling people that you’re my girlfriend.”, he said seriously.  She hadn’t run off when he had taken her hand (wrist).  She had noticed the Fable stickers on his computer.  She had remembered his name after one interaction. The American thing was a slight issue but hey, no one was perfect! 

“Cool, because I already told the staff that you were my boyfriend when I took your bag!” Cat responded. “I told them you like to pretend you don’t know me when you get mad and I just play along to pacify you.  It was the only way they were comfortable letting me take your bag!”

Be cool!  Do not fucking freak out! Act fucking normal! Do NOT scare her away! Say something a fucking weirdo would never in a million years say! Old Michael reminded him.

“Let’s go back to my place after and study some calculus.  Your grades in that sound horrendous.” Fucccccck.  You just got yourself a girlfriend and this is the shit you respond with?! Old Michael panicked. 

Cat smirked. “Only if you promise to fuck me into your mattress after.”

Michael stared at her, almost daring her to say she was kidding.  When she didn’t and her gaze briefly dropped to his lips, he abandoned any doubts he had and turned to walk away from the shop, practically dragging Cat with him.  

Cat giggled and adjusted herself to clutch at his arm with both hands, her legs and his in perfect sync as they made their way to Michael’s room.

—------------

“What the fuck?” Felix said to Oliver, pointing. Both were sitting on a bench, relaxing a bit before their next class.

 “Didn’t he go fucking mental at you the first day? Not to be a dick or anything but is she safe with that guy?”  

Oliver followed Felix’s finger and froze.  

He gaped at what he saw:

Michael fucking Gavey, math genius slash freak of nature, walking happily with the pretty American girl who had said no to their bar hopping invite just last week.  It was definitely surprising, but Oliver was now more determined than ever.  If a fucking social reject like Gavey could get what he was after, then someone like himself was sure to have the same luck if he continued to put in the effort.

THE END