#apologies 😓

[0anonnymouslyours0]

Hii! I love ur writing so much, I had a h/c fic idea for James but I can't write to save my life so I figured I'd request lmao. Feel free to ignore if it's not something ur interested in writing ofc.

I was thinking smtn where James asks out reader and they think it's a joke so they like walk away or tell him to fuck off or smtn and James is just so confused so the next day asks r wtf that was about and she's like "if ur gonna be a dick you shouldn't expect other ppl to just take it" or something and he's still confused and asks her what was happening so she explains what she thinks is going on and he like comforts her and tells her that he fr likes her

getting around to answering some requests... i took a short break but im thinking about writing a bit again. this is just cute fluff. little rusty tho. 💞

james potter is an absolute idiot.. truly. and yet, somehow, you've still had a crush on him for 3 years. it's truly a marvel. james and his friends, fondly referred to as the 'marauders', often play practical jokes. of course, when out of the blue on a random tuesday james sheepishly approaches you asking if you want to go to hogsmeade together, you think it's some sort of joke. a cruel trick of the universe, to tug on your poor pining heart. so you scowl at him, and turn straight on your heel and march off.

james and you have been friends for years, longer then you've ever liked him, so the only logical answer is that its all a joke. a cruel joke. and one, though you'd never say to anybody else, hurts. a lot. so, like the very mature person you are, you decide to ignore his existence for the rest of the day, and the following morning. when james gets remus, your loyal potions buddy, to past notes to you in class, you throw them straight in the bin; ignoring remus's skeptical stare, with an eye-roll and shrug. and just as you think you've evaded him the whole day, he corners you as you leave history of magic.

"whats wrong with you? you've been ignoring me all day? did i fuck up that bad?" he says, hot on your heels behind you as you storm through the hallway away.

"you know james, if your gonna be such a fucking dick about peoples feelings, you shouldn't just expect them to take it. and if you do, consider yourself no longer my friend. don't talk to me, stop passing notes, stop staring at me, and stop corning me on my way out of class!" you snap, turning to stare at him with your arms folded.

and james, well, james just pouts. a confused look spreads across his brow.

"i- i thought you liked me? and i really like you- and i don't understand, i truly wasn't trying to play with your feelings or- or anything like that!" he replies, sounding adorably confused and sincere, and you falter.

"you asked me out as a joke james! how is that anything but playing with my-"

"sorry what? no! i was very serious. i like you. a lot. have for a while and it's taking me so, so long to work up the courage. i've taken too long and now i've blown it." james cuts in, stepping forward into your space, except you don't back away.

"you.. weren't joking?"

"of course not!" he says, placing a hand on your shoulder. he looks rather upset actually, a frown on his face.

you blink at him, stepping closer.

"you actually meant it? you, er, like me?"

"head over heels." he confirms, with a smile spreading across his face

"well then, ill see on saturday night." you say, a small smile in return before turning rather quickly away to rush off to your dorm, a light blush coating your cheeks.

james twirls on the spot, throwing his fist in the air in a quiet "yes!" before dashing after you.

"wait! where do you wanna go because i was thinking something special? my treat- god let me treat you right!"

[banemaus]

old billford from the archives. are they anything to you

[sematarygirls]

        SLASHER!RAFE x FINALGIRL!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ dubcon, unprotected p in v, knife play, choking, hair pulling, degradation, one use of the word daddy, blood, murder, gore

NOTES .ᐟ  everyone ignore how i change my post layouts every five seconds, but i went kind of out of my comfort zone and decided to put my nasty little fantasies to paper with this one, so i hope yall freaks enjoy.

                 ♱     ‘‘ we all go a little mad sometimes ’’

The sounds of your heavy breathing seemed to echo off the walls of the empty wooden cabin. A loose floorboard underneath you dug painfully into your ribs, but you didn't dare move an inch, your eyes trained on the door and ears perked up as you kept yourself alert for any signs of life. Every creak of the old cabin and whistle of the wind outside had you biting back a gasp as hot, salty tears ran down your cheeks.

Your lip was trembling, heart beating so loud in your chest that you were afraid it would give away your position hidden away under one of the rickety beds. Flashes of the gruesome scene beyond the four wooden walls that were currently giving you some semblance of safety filled the darkness everytime your eyes fluttered shut.

Blood. Blood everywhere. With the amount of blood you'd seen and the eerie quiet that had settled over the camp, only the wind and the crickets to keep you company, you were almost positive that everyone else was dead.

You found yourself grateful that the campers had all gone home that morning, spared from the wrath of the axe-wielding maniac that had beheaded, dismembered, gutted, and disfigured all your coworkers. You could still see the face of your boss, the head counselor, in your mind, lifeless, sunken eyes staring past you and ghostly pale skin practically reflecting in the moonlight.

You didn't have time to ponder whether the unrecognizable corpse a few feet away belonged to the disembodied head before you because a pitched, sadistic whistling started up. You weren't sure what direction it had come from as it seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. Running and hiding seemed to be the best course of action, so you took off, trying to focus on what was ahead of you and not the massacre that was all around you.

That was when you slipped into the cabin and scrambled under the bed, your heavy breathing—a mix of physical exertion and pure horror—reverberating off the walls. A twig snapping outside had you clamping your hand over your mouth, a small squeak falling from your lips as you screwed your eyes shut in an attempt to will the murderer away from your location.

A few tense moments passed with your eyes shut tight and not another sound to be heard. Your ears strained to pick up anything besides the wind whipping through the trees and the ironically lively sounds of insects chirping but still, nothing.

You let out an internal sigh of relief, your eyes fluttering open and sweeping the floor in front of you for feet, thankfully finding none. "Boo," a voice suddenly whispered, making your eyes widen. A blood-curdling scream tore from your throat as a hand clamped down on your ankle, pulling you forcefully out from under the bed. You clawed at the floor and kicked at him, but your attempts to fight off the larger, stronger man were futile.

When he had pulled you all the way out of the hiding place that had lulled you into a false sense of security, you quickly turned over to face him, bracing yourself up on your hands as your chest heaved and eyes widened with fear.

You found yourself slightly taken aback as your gaze landed on the handsome, blood-spattered face before you. You'd more or less expected a middle-aged hillbilly with missing teeth and a crazed look in his eyes. Instead, you were face to face with a wicked smirk and cold blue eyes that glared down at you, glinting sinisterly in the dim, warm lighting. He had forgone his axe, the polished blade of a knife clutched in his hand, catching the light.

"Gotcha," he said lowly, his voice taking on a distinctly menacing and warning tone, as if daring you to try and run from him. His tall frame towered over you, even as he crouched down to be level with you, the sharp scent of the blood coating his white button up making your nose scrunch in disgust.

"Please," you begged weakly, crawling backward until your back hit the wooden bedframe of the bed you'd just sought refuge under. He seemed unfazed by your attempts to scurry away from him, simply leaning closer and bringing the knife up to brush a strand of hair away from your face in a gesture that was deceptively gentle.

"Shh, it's okay," he cooed, his voice dripping with false comfort and a twisted amusement. He lightly ran the knife down your cheek, making you stiffen, not wanting to move an inch and risk the blade dipping into your skin. "Are you scared?" He asked, stopping the cold steel of the knife underneath your chin and using it to tilt your head up a little bit, forcing you to look at him.

His icy blue eyes bored into yours as he waited for your answer. You couldn't form a sentence, simply staring up at him like a deer caught in headlights. Your mind was whirling with thoughts, most presently not wanting to die, but just beyond that, you registered the damp feeling between your legs that had you wondering if you had truly lost your mind. You were face to face with a man who had brutally murdered atleast a dozen people and was presently covered in their blood, and you were turned on?

"I asked you a fucking question," he said, drawing you from your thoughts. His chiseled jaw clenched as he pressed the knife ever so slightly into your skin, the tip of the blade nicking your neck and making a small whimper fall from your lips. He leaned closer, his breath fanning over your face. "Are you scared?" He repeated, his tone making it clear that he expected an answer when he asked you a question.

"Y-yes," you replied, your voice trembling as you felt a warm, sticky droplet of blood slip down your neck from the small cut he had made and into your shirt, right through the valley of your breasts.

"Good," he hummed, a twisted smile slowly spreading across his face. Your breath hitched as you felt the blade begin to move again, dipping lower and lower, following the trail of blood on your skin. "Bet you'd do whatever I told you to, yeah?"

You nodded, probably a little too quickly. Deep down, some sick part of you wanted this, wanted him to touch you and defile you in ways that would have your mother clutching her pearls. Fear was one motivator. Of course you wanted to get out of this alive and were willing to do whatever it took, but as much as you wanted to convince yourself it was, you knew it wasn't the only reason you would bend to the handsome stranger's will.

He grinned wickedly, grabbing your throat with his free hand and pulling you up into a standing position. The tip of the knife pressed firmly against your sternum, his fingers flexing around the column of your throat—his grip unyielding but not quite painful—as he stood there for a moment, just staring at you.

His calculating gaze swept over your face, taking in every little detail before slipping down. A glint of satisfaction flickered across his face as he saw the cut on your skin, following the blood trail down into your little tank top. He subconsciously licked his lips at the view, the thin material of your shirt and your little shorts not leaving much to the imagination. You shuddered under his intense stare, feeling suddenly very exposed as he shamelessly checked you out.

His eyes lingered on your chest, the rise and fall of your breasts clearly visible as it heaved with your quick, shallow breaths—whether from fear or anticipation, you were still trying to decipher. His face twisted into a smug expression, clearly noting the effect he was having on you.

He slowly, tauntingly, dragged the blade up from your sternum to your collarbone before pulling it back down in the same tantalizing manner. His gaze seemed to pierce your soul, watching in amusement as you squirmed uncomfortably in his grasp.

Before you could register what was happening, a loud clatter abruptly echoed throughout the room, making you jump and gasp softly in a mix of surprise and fear. Your eyes widened a fraction as you felt his calloused fingers slip under your shirt, dancing along your bare skin.

Your gaze darted to the source of the noise, the knife laying discarded on the floor a few feet away. "Uh, uh, uh," he reprimanded, his grip on your throat tightening, his thumb applying just enough pressure to make you feel the threat of being cut off from air. "Don't look over there. Look at me."

Your eyes met his again, his pupils dilated, the pools of black giving him an even more menacing look as he glared at you with a hardened stare. "Don't try anything stupid," he warned lowly, his fingertips digging into the delicate flesh of your neck. "I don't want to have to kill you. I'd be a shame for such a pretty face to go to waste."

His hand left your throat, sliding to the back of your head and curling his long fingers into your hair. Yanking your head back and exposing the column of your neck further, he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "You're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

"Uh-Uh huh," you managed, unable to nod due to the harsh, painful grip he had on your hair. His hot breath fanning against your skin seemed to go right to your aching core, making you mentally curse yourself for whatever Freudian concept had you attracted to a man who was probably going to murder you before the night was over.

"Hm? What was that?" He taunted you, giving your hair another tug that had you letting out a small "ah" in pain. "Gonna have to speak up. Use your words."

"Yes," you whimpered, giving him the verbal affirmation he wanted to hear. His cruel and violent behavior really shouldn't have been turning you on as much as it was, but something about him was downright intoxicating, making you latch helplessly onto every word he said.

"Good," he grinned darkly, rewarding you by letting go of your hair before both of his large, strong hands settled on your waist. In one swift movement, he spun you around so your back was facing him. He kept his left hand on your hip, fingertips digging harshly into your skin as the other hand splayed along your stomach over your top.

You swallowed hard, looking forward out the window. It was so dark outside, the light from the room casting a glare on the glass that allowed you to see your reflection and by association, the man behind you. He leaned down, his breath hot against your neck as his tall frame dwarfed your smaller one.

His fingertips dipped into your shorts without warning, making you gasp softly as you felt the pads of his fingers run along your glistening folds. "Dirty fuckin' girl," he whispered into your ear, and you could hear the sick satisfaction in his voice. "You like me roughing you up, huh? You want me to hurt you."

He pulled his fingers back, leaving you feeling strangely disappointed. Your slick transfered from his fingers to your skin as he carefully pulled out, trailing his fingers alone your stomach before curling them into the waistband of your shorts and tugging down, letting them fall to the floor.

"Onto the bed," He breathed hotly against your skin before shoving you forward with enough force to send you stumbling toward the bed in front of you. You braced yourself on your hands and knees as you fell forward, unknowingly getting yourself exactly where he wanted you. He positioned himself behind you, gripping your hips tightly.

One of his hands slid up your spine, roughly gripping your hair again and pushing your face forcefully into the pillows below, making you yelp softly in surprise. "Don't you fuckin' move," he warned you, his voice dripping with dark promise of what would happen if you did as he pulled back.

You heard him fiddling with his belt before a loud clank resounded through the room, indicating it had found a home on the floor along with the forgotten knife. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest as you waited in anticipation—a sick eagerness setting your body abuzz.

One hand came back to your waist, the other gripping the base of his throbbing length. He guided himself to your covered entrance, using his thick head to push the flimsy lace of your panties aside. You gasped into the pillows, your hips instinctively pushing back against him as he ran his tip along your wet folds, being deceptively gentle despite his true intentions.

With a brutal thrust, he sheathed himself inside you, his length stretching your walls in a manner that was both painful and sinfully delicious as he groaned in satisfaction. He paused for a moment, savoring the feel of being buried in your tight, wet heat before beginning to move, each thrust sending your body crashing against the bed.

The old, rickety wood screeched with each brutal thrust that he delivered into you. You were a mess of moans and whines, muffled by the pillows beneath you that smelled faintly of mothballs. He trailed a hand up your back once again, mirroring his previous actions of curled it into your hair to keep you pressed firmly into the mattress beneath you.

"You like that, huh?" He mocked you, finding a perverted pleasure in how eager you were for him to fuck you senseless. "What kind of sick whore lets a murderer fuck her, hm?" He hummed, tugging on the strands of your hair that were wrapped around his long fingers as he continued to deliver rough thrusts into your poor cunt, his hard length abusing your cervix as he chased his own high.

You cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain, his grip on your hip bruising as he forcefully pulled your body back to meet his thrusts. "That's it," he cooed derisively, not letting up the slightest bit. "Lay there and take it like a good girl." His hot and cold act—one minute praising you and the next demeaning you—had your head spinning in a way that wasn't unwelcome.

Your body jolted as he unexpectedly slid his hand down, his calloused fingertips rubbing tight, quick circles on your swollen clit. Your hands fisted into the bedsheets, body tensing as the combination of sensations overwhelmed you.

"Fuck, look at you," he groaned as he watched you writhe beneath him, his fingers merciless on the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "You gonna cum for me, baby?" He purred condescendingly

He increased the pressure, his touch unyielding as he felt your body growing taut beneath him, your breath hitching. "That's right, come for daddy," he taunted, his voice dripping with menace as he brought the hand in your hair down to grip your hip for leverage.

Your body seized up as the coil inside you finally snapped, pleasure crashing over you in intense waves. A strangled cry tore from your throat into the pillows, your cunt clenching rhythmically around him as he continued to pound into you, chasing his own high.

Feeling your walls tighten around him sent him over the edge, gripping your hips tightly as he pushed himself deep into you. He let out a low groan, his head falling pack in ecstacy as he painted your walls with his release.

Your body slumped against the bed as he slowly pulled out, your chest heaving from exertion. Your mind was in a daze, briefly forgetting that the man with you could kill you at any moment.

You hesitantly turned over, propping yourself on your elbows, watching him tuck himself back into his pants and retrieve his belt and knife from their place on the floor. You regarded him warily, watching every move cautiously to make sure that he wasn't going to approach you and slit your throat now that he had taken what he wanted.

He looked up, eyes meeting yours and glinting with a sinister light as he took in your sweaty appearance, your hair sticking wildly in all directions, a few strands clinging to your forehead. He lifted the knife, pointing it at you—a clear threat. "You tell the cops or anyone else that I was here, and I'll fuckin' find you, hear?"

Your eyes widened slightly as your brain tried to process the words he'd just said. When they finally did register in your mind, you nodded frantically, showing him that you understood. He was leaving you alive. You were going to make it home. He studied you for a moment longer, his brows furrowing ever so slightly like he was mulling over something in his mind.

Finally, he gave you a small nod, his face a mask of indifference as he left without another word—like he didn't just kill a shit ton of people and then fuck you senseless. You simply watched him leave in disbelief. You didn't really expect for him to actually let you live, but you were eternally grateful that he had.

You let out a long sigh of relief as soon as his footsteps faded into the night, letting your elbows give out from under you. Your back hit the mattress and you stared up at the ceiling, trying to put together a plausible story for why you were the last one standing after the brutal massacre and why you hadn't the faintest clue who could have done such a horrible thing.

this one goes out to my babygirl @starkeysprincess

[hyvyinjie]

hi! Can I ask for a headcannon about Minamoto teru x childhood friend reader? Where teru is really over protective and gentle towards the reader. Reader is a lazy person, and often sleepy, the things he likes are reading comics and playing game in their phone. They also refuses teru's invitation to join the student council. Thank you! :)

why of course! it’d be an honor to grant such an ask. apologies for taking quite a while to do so—though i hope my work meets your expectations, wonderful nonie!<3

—LOST IN THE HAZE OF YOUR DREAMSCAPE.

featuring ; minamoto teru & you as our star.

+ small akane & aoi mentions.

ah, minamoto teru; the very embodiment of perfection—as he was hailed and as he carried himself with utter conviction.

a master of powers, a paragon of academic prowess, and a maestro in all things extraordinary. could there be anything he did not conquer?

yet, his persona, a labyrinth of complexities, as if harboring a multitude of souls within his very being.

now, here you arrive in his peculiar life—meeting with the intricacies of his existence.

when your paths converged, it ignited a tempestuous collision, a clash of peculiar forces.

initially, your mere presence held no sway over him. in truth, he perceived you as an encumbrance, burdened by your languid nature. for he, a relentless pursuer of flawlessness, demanded nothing less.

but lo and behold. fate—that cunning trickster—wove its intricate threads, meticulously mending the frayed tapestry of your connection.

through the passage of time, a tapestry of happenstance encounters and the subsequent flourishing of interactions—a nascent camaraderie took root. he slowly, but surely grew attuned to your idiosyncrasies, harmonizing with your rhythm. while the power to surmount every obstacle at your side eludes him still, he persists, striving to offer his utmost.

oh please have mercy on this young man—forever enmeshed in the whirlwind of his exorcist duties. and yet, even amidst the chaos, his devotion knows no bounds when it comes to those he holds dear.

one might assume that quality time would be sacrificed for the trivial, but fear not, for you found yourself on the fortunate side—the one he’d willingly carved out moments to be with.

initially, your encounters were fleeting, brief snippets of time. however, as the sands of time trickled down, these fragments transformed into meticulously planned sleepovers. he meticulously orchestrated these occasions, ensuring they did not encroach upon his demanding schedule.

your bond thrived during these cozy gatherings, or tranquil rendezvous, where he wholeheartedly immersed himself in your passions—comics and video games.

though not extensively versed in these realms, one might imagine that you—with your infectious enthusiasm to the field—was the catalyst for his exploration and understanding of the realm of entertainment. this was evidenced by the gradual increase in invitations to game nights and his newfound willingness to engage in discussions about captivating narratives. perhaps, you both even exchanged recommendations for comics, as kindred spirits often do.

as the both of you and the world grew older—it became evident that he honed his social skills; presenting himself as a complete package. every aspect of his being held an irresistible allure, captivating the hearts of women, and even some fellow men. many yearned and openly expressed their desire to be the chosen one by his side.

however, even amidst the clamoring crowd, his gaze remained steadfastly fixed upon you.

of course, as the old adage goes; with great power comes great responsibility—the price of his popularity gradually revealed itself.

certain students, teetering on the edge of obsession, noticed the distinct tenderness he displayed towards you, surpassing his general kindness towards all. seizing upon this perceived vulnerability, they occasionally resorted to devious methods, seeking to eliminate you from the equation, taking advantage of moments when slumber claimed you.

naturally, he swiftly uncovered their plot, intervening before they could execute their nefarious intentions.

needless to say, the number of such audacious attempts dwindled significantly. what exactly he did to deter them remains a mystery known only to him and his would-be victims.

still, worried that the possibility of a recurrence and his absence to intervene, he took it upon himself to practically implore—some might even say beg—you to join the student council. this would ensure that he, or even akane if needed, could keep a watchful eye over you with greater ease.

however, true to your nature, you steadfastly rebuffed each futile attempt to persuade you. despite his persistent efforts, you remained resolute in your refusal.

eventually, your golden boy relented, recognizing that his endeavors were in vain…but that was just because he found an alternative solution.

he encouraged—forced—akane to be the one to look after you discreetly whenever he couldn’t. only choosing to partially reveal his intentions to avoid alarming you at the time, as you were unfamiliar with akane’s existence.

or so it had been until he observed that you and the school’s vice president shared a rather unique bond.

although akane would occasionally scold you for being so excessively somnolent, mistaking it for you being irresponsible, hence, occasionally comparing you to the greatness of his lady aoi—teru—ever vigilant and mindful of akane’s every interaction with you, ensured that his usual brutal tendencies were significantly tempered. still—it remained a part of the deputy’s essence, defining his very being, just albeit subdued in your presence.

it could be surmised that akane once attempted to tease—or rather, foolishly inquire, about teru’s subtle yet perceptible shifts in behavior whenever you were involved.

“it’s almost as if you like them.”

in an almost immediate reaction—the president paused, slowly turning his head to gaze at akane, a shadow casting a smile that concealed the upper portion of his closed eyes.

the ginger-haired vice executive, feeling an ominous presence despite the absence of visible eyes, found himself sweating profusely as he cautiously added,

“—to the point where anyone could mistake you for family!"

sensing the gravity of his words, akane mentally vowed to never broach the subject again. he restrained himself from ever mentioning it whenever he witnessed the two of you together.

curiosity gnawed at you as you noticed his all-knowing gaze transform into one of horror whenever you turned your head, as if peering behind you; at none other than the pretty blonde himself, who seemed to be doing nothing wrong, merely proven to have been innocently smiling the whole time, or so he put up whenever you looked back at him.

oblivious to the truth, you always dismissed it as ‘akane’s peculiar moments of ptsd flashbacks’ whenever he saw teru.

however, let me share a little secret with you.

did you know the true reason behind teru’s death stare? no? well, do you wanna know?

then do allow me to spill it for you.

it was simply because akane, using the keyword; "like," insinuated that teru had a ‘liking-only level’ romantic feeling for you. the misconception provoked such a reaction from teru, for he wanted to correct that statement because he loved you, not just liked you.

seriously, can’t people let him finish what he’s saying?

[bikinikillarchives]

bikini kill performing at Velvet Elvis Arts Lounge Theatre, Seattle, WA, May 22, 1994. with Lync and Team Dresch. more from this show here!

[casperth3ghost]

@antiquepearlss hiii:3

ive seen ur posts & im sorry youre having a bad day rn im so sorry abt that:((

but i hope this stupid little doodle i did lightens ur day a little more:3!!

[vilochkaaa]

In the swap AU, where do you think Dobson would go? 👀

okay, I really I had to think hard about it..

(I'm considering a better timeline where he and Morris coexist at the same time, because it's a little more interesting, than just him--)

in which case he would have become a good reliable bro for Morris and, I won't be afraid to say it, right-hand man and helper in all matters pertaining to the business (actually, in the original universe, he had roughly the same role - yknow, assistant to the chief..)

and with the role reversal, and therefore the whole personality, he would have changed out of character. from a cold, calculating employee of a powerful conglomerate, arrogant and sarcastic to a relaxed, carefree lazy guy always yammering about "connections with important figures" and his clever business schemes.

he became what he hated..

and I've been playing around with his design.. I tried to make him look less officious and.. polished (´•ω•`)

[jtl07]

avatrice soulmate au

omg ant i hope this one actually is okay

it took Beatrice two steps down the stairwell to realize that she wasn't alone.

she takes these stairs everyday, arriving and leaving work, going to lunch as she is now - it's the principle of the thing, she'd explained to Camila, citing that their office was only on the 5th floor, besides, Beatrice wasn't one to pass up extra cardio especially after sitting in front of the computer working through feature specs and telling Crimson no, we will not be adding more custom dev hours to your most important tier 1 client who just happens to be owned by your cousin -

she hears it again: a sob.

it echoes through the stairwell, sad and lonely and broken. Beatrice doesn't know who it might be but the sound pulls at her nonetheless, a weight in her chest that gets heavier as she quietly gets closer.

then she sees her. Ava Silva, sitting on one of the steps, curled into herself, leaning heavily into the wall as she cries. Beatrice hasn't worked with her much - Beatrice tries to keep her interactions with Sales down to a minimum - but she knows of her. her smile, her laugh, her sometimes inappropriate jokes, the ease with which she brings joy into a room, that Beatrice has always felt when passing by her in the office. so to see Ava here, like this, is something of a shock.

Beatrice feels that tug again - knows she can't turn away and leave her alone.

she lets her next step fall heavy and the sound is enough to make Ava lift her head, scrub her face, hastily pull at her clothes. "oh - hey, Beatrice, off to lunch?"

Beatrice nods, hesitant. gestures to the space next Ava. "may I?"

"sure," Ava says, clearing her throat of tears.

Beatrice lowers herself down to sit as well, though she chooses one step behind Ava - enough to see most of her face, enough -hopefully- to give her space. it feels heavier here, though, like a storm attempting to swallow her whole. Beatrice isn't sure what to do in the face of such a feeling, sees it clearly even though Ava seems to be trying hard not to show it. but she has to do something.

she lets the heaviness fill her lungs, then thinks of freedom, thinks of air. speaks into the silence: "did you know this stairwell has access to the roof?"

Ava blinks, the tension in her body releasing at the unexpected question. "no," she answers, and Beatrice gets the pleasure of watching in realtime as the words register. "wait are you telling we could've been having rooftop parties all this time?"

Beatrice allows a smile. "not exactly. the engineers found out a couple months ago. they've been cleaning it up little by little." she glances at Ava. "it's better privacy than a stairwell."

the look Ava gives her is something curious, feels her gaze like a physical thing. Beatrice barely keeps herself from shivering.

"sounds like you're speaking from experience."

Beatrice lets out a soft snort through her nose. "you don't work in tech without at least one breakdown every quarter." Ava's laugh is soft but Beatrice still feels a bit of pride at the tendril of amusement peeking through dark clouds.

in her pocket, Beatrice feels her phone vibrate, a reminder of the limited time she has for her break. normally she rushes through it, but she wants the opposite now, wants to take her time, wants to know Ava more.

"well you can't tell from here," Beatrice says, glancing at the drab gray walls of the stairwell, "but it's a beautiful day outside. join me for lunch?"

Ava's surprise is palpable, burning even and Beatrice backpedals immediately. "only if you want, of course, i simply thought -"

"i'd love to." there's a curious, almost mischievous curve to Ava's smile now, something knowing that flusters Beatrice even more.

"right then," Beatrice mutters, standing up in hopes of controlling the sudden blush on her cheeks. still, she can't help the way her gaze stays on Ava, watches her stand - sees the moment she loses her balance.

Beatrice moves without thinking.

the next thing she knows, Ava's in her arms, heart beating wildly in her chest, eyes wide and Beatrice feels herself riding a rollercoaster of emotions: fear and relief and horny -

she pauses. carefully traces the last feeling to a source outside of herself.

Ava's grin is wider than Beatrice has ever seen it, knowing and joyous. "felt that, huh." Ava doesn't bother posing it as a question, likely already feeling the rush going through Beatrice herself.

"i suppose we'll be feeling each other a lot now." later, Beatrice will swear that she meant it innocently, in terms of the soulmate bond in general, but then she feels Ava's instant mischief, sees her grin turn wicked and she groans. maybe she should have taken the elevator after all...

[amaranthdahlia]

love valley - shigaraki brothers short pmv

[sparklychaossheeppp]

Howdy yall!! Thank you so much for the love on my previous posts!! <3 as a little treat here's a pompt :) feel free to use it (with credit ofcc)

Based off this post!

Prompt #1

"And so!- wait a minute, when did you un-tie yourself...?"

The villain questioned, blinking at the hero in disbelief. They weren't talking for that long were they?

"You were taking too long and I got hungry."

[nokk0]

out of nowhere,Fal saw himself in the middle of absolute nothingness, a darkness, or a void, until a bright light appeared from behind, out of nowhere, a huge pale figure, it was life, but.

even without being able to see a clear face in her, disappointment and anger could be noticed.

"I know what you did and was beyond unacceptable Fal. Apologize to your victim,you know very well to who. Inmediatly."

cleary she won't repeat twice

“Wh-o...!?”

Fal, in panic, turned around the moment he heard Life's voice, and as soon as he saw her… Fal felt fear. He was afraid? Maybe it was a feeling of inferiority. It could be something else, but Fal couldn't put it into words. But it wasn't good. Definitely not

Fal tried to act calm, but it was a hard task pretending in front of Life

“A....Apologize... To... Oh...”

Hiding behind the excuse of "it was just a joke, it's no big deal" would do nothing more than fuel the fury of Life herself, however Life's presence and her obvious anger silenced him. She was beautiful, and imposing despite her lack of notable facial features. He couldn't tell how he hadn't rebooted yet. Her presence was something beyond his comprehension, even overwhelming

Fal asked for this by sending that Gem Apple, there were no excuses. He recognised that. There were no "buts" he just had to apologize... That's all she wants, isn't it? Normally he would obey without hesitation, normally he would try to repair his mistake the best possible, however… Just thinking about apologizing to one of them sickened him

[moe-broey]

Back to. What I do best. Which is low to no effort comics. I still feel like I should redesign my teatime Moe BUT... the mental image of this playing out was so powerful.

I've said in the past that a focal part of the dynamic is both of them managing to be extremely affectionate with each other while hesitating to act on their feelings -- however, I also think it's just as important. The fuck around and find out factor. The way Alfonse will just choose violence, sometimes. The way Moe can be really forward (jokingly or just completely forthcoming about it), but gets skiddish and jumpy when that affection is returned. AND. AND. The way Alfonse will just. Do The Most. MORE than The Most. He is returning the energy tenfold. One thing I believe in my heart is that if you think you're weird for something, Alfonse can and WILL prove to you that he can get Weirder about it. This here is a tame example all things considered, but it is an example!

Some close ups of my fave panels/sequences, hopefully less grainy 🧍

Realizing I probably could have taken close ups of all of them tbh..... too late now! It's dark outside. 😔💔

[introvertgoat]

dropping hazbin n by association helluva boss has made me so apathetic to anything related to them 😭 girl idc abt stolitz n whether or not blitz is in the wrong or stolas is like !!! someone quick get blitzø in therapy n far away from stolas so he doesn’t relapse.

[fishandbandages]

I may have just found your blog but get hugged >:3

“OHHH YOU SWEET LITTLE THING ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜”

“Thank you for the lovely hug!!”

[krynutsreal]

looks around

read left to -> right :]

ok . explodes

[wildflowercryptid]

⚠️ spoilers for some year 3 + 4 dialogue with gustafa's child below! ⚠️

[ some of the text in the second image is cut off, the full dialogue is likely meant to be "hold on a second. has gustafa been riding your coattails this whole time?" ]

no, because why is bea so brutal towards gustafa oh my god?? like you're really just gonna ask that question when he's within earshot??? 😭😭😭