#but even before then hes not himself. more cheerful and personable but not HIMSELF

[solxamber]

Helloo, I absolutely love you writing! Your understanding of the twst characters’ personalities is phenomenal 😭❤️

May I request both Ace and Malleus crushing on reader simultaneously, and both are aware that the other likes reader (reader is oblivious hehe). Ace gets super insecure since he isn’t powerful nor of royal status and believes there’s no way he can compete against him, meanwhile Malleus gets super jealous since Ace has been friends with reader ever since and is the most close with him.

Ace x Reader x Malleus (Love Triangle)

a/n: the giggle i let out when i saw this!! such a fun concept and thank you so much 🫶🫶

It started with a normal day: you laughing at one of Ace's jokes, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind you. The storm in question was Ace and Malleus glaring daggers at each other over your oblivious head.

Ace was slouched in his chair, shooting side-eyes at the imposing figure standing too close to your desk. Why does he have to hover like that? he thought bitterly. Malleus, for his part, was casting pointed glances at Ace’s casual posture, as if silently saying, Is this the best you can do?

Neither could deny the truth. They were both hopelessly, tragically in love with you. And they both knew it.

Ace prided himself on being the guy you could count on for a laugh. But today, he was on a mission: show you how amazing he was.

“So, anyway,” he said loudly during your study session in the library, “I totally aced—get it?—my magic exam. Got full marks.” He leaned back smugly, hoping you’d be impressed.

Malleus, who had been quietly sitting nearby (because of course he was), looked up. “Impressive, Ace Trappola. But I suppose it pales in comparison to wielding centuries-old magic and commanding legions of loyal subjects.”

Ace choked on his own smugness. “Yeah, well, I bet you don’t even know how to mix a potion without turning it into swamp goo, huh?”

“Actually, I mastered potion-making at a young age. I created an elixir capable of reviving withered flora.”

“Cool, cool. Can you tell me how any of that helps the prefect with our history homework?” Ace shot back, leaning closer to you.

Malleus frowned. “History is one of my strongest subjects.”

“Oh my Seven—” Ace groaned and threw his hands up. “We get it. You’re ancient!”

You looked between them, confused. “Are you two okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” Malleus said smoothly.

“Great! I was just explaining history to Deuce,” Ace lied shamelessly.

Lunch was another battlefield. Ace had secured a seat next to you and was recounting a funny story involving Grim, a mop, and a very angry caterpillar monster.

“…and then Grim screamed so loud, I think half the campus heard him! Right, Prefect?” Ace said, nudging you.

Before you could respond, the shadow of a tall figure fell over the table.

“Malleus,” Ace said with a forced grin. “Didn’t see you there. Like, at all.”

“I thought I would join you,” Malleus said, sitting directly across from you, his gaze unwavering. “Do you require assistance with your meal? Perhaps I could conjure something more fitting for your taste.”

“Okay, that’s just cheating,” Ace muttered under his breath.

“Conjuring food is a skill that requires great control,” Malleus said casually. “It’s a shame some rely solely on mediocre cafeteria fare.”

“Oh, so now the chicken nuggets aren’t good enough for you?” Ace snapped.

“They lack refinement,” Malleus said.

“Yeah? Well, you lack… I dunno, vibes!” Ace countered.

You blinked. “Ace, are you okay? You’re yelling about chicken nuggets.”

“Y-Yeah, I’m good,” Ace mumbled, shoving a nugget in his mouth to shut himself up.

The tension boiled over during a school festival. There was a dance competition, and both Ace and Malleus signed up for one reason: to win your attention.

Ace went first, pulling off a routine filled with flashy moves that he definitely stole from a popular video. The crowd cheered, and you clapped the loudest.

“Not bad, right?” Ace said, slightly out of breath but grinning. “Bet I’m the first guy you’ve seen dance like that.”

Before you could respond, Malleus stepped onto the stage.

“I shall now perform a traditional dance of my homeland,” he announced.

It was graceful, mesmerizing, and undeniably magical—literally. The lights dimmed, and green flames swirled around him as he moved with perfect precision. The crowd was silent, utterly captivated.

Ace stood next to you, slack-jawed. “I… I can’t compete with that.”

You turned to him with a smile. “I thought your dance was amazing too.”

Ace lit up like a firework. “Y-Yeah? You mean that?”

Malleus, mid-spin, glanced at you both. His expression darkened.

Eventually, the competition escalated to new heights of absurdity. Ace baked you cookies, only to find out Malleus had hand-carved you a jewelry box. Malleus enchanted roses to bloom eternally, and Ace countered by organizing a surprise karaoke night with all your favorite songs.

But when you tripped and both of them scrambled to catch you, the ridiculousness reached its peak.

“You caught their hand,” Malleus said, an edge to his voice.

“And you caught their other hand!” Ace snapped.

You, still mid-air, sighed. “Can someone just catch me completely next time?”

Despite their antics, one thing was clear: they both adored you. And while their rivalry was exasperating, it was also… kind of sweet.

Well, for you, anyway. For them? Not so much.

Masterlist

[whatifitis]

♡ Wickedly Amazing - LN 4 ♡

Summary: Lando is stressed and working all day so during his 15 min break, you decide to stress him out even more 😍

Author's Note: this is complete ass, i wrote it in 1 hr, feedback is always appreciated <3

WC: 970

CW: fluff, my love for wicked the musical, lando matching girlies freak (i think)

Lando had been spending the whole day in meetings via zoom and to say you were bored was an understatement. You had already cleaned the whole apartment, sent some work emails, and read half your book. You missed Lando, even though he was less than 5 feet away. 

Lando had meeting after meeting and they lasted hours. You really only got to see him when you brought him water and food, just sliding it next to him to stay out of frame of the camera and not distract him. 

But Lando was about to have a 15 min break before his next, and hopefully final, meeting of the day. You took it upon yourself to annoy him in your usual fashion, and try and help him destress him a bit by possibly stressing him out. 

While Lan was wrapping up the meeting, you quietly set up a chair behind him and out of frame. You wrapped a throw blanket around your neck and had a broom in hand. As soon as you heard Lando say goodbye and leave the session, you played Defying Gravity on the speakers. 

As soon as the music started, Lando nearly threw his phone into the hair from the abruptly broken silence. He turns in his seat to see you walk around the corner, playing both Elphaba and Glinda’s bits in the song. 

The smile and amusement on his face was what you did these things for. You loved his smile, even more when he truly was happy and when you were the one making it happen. His smile was so wide and the corners of his eyes crinkled with the bridge of his nose. 

As you kept singing, he was cheering you on with some whistles, fist pumps and “that’s my girl”’s. You walked around the room putting on the performance of a lifetime. 

The bridge was coming up and this was your moment to truly blow away the audience (Lando). 

You made your way to the chair you had set up earlier and stood on top of it, shouting about how soon you’d watch them in renown. You threw your cape back to emphasize the imaginary wind blowing up, holding your broom close to you as you prepare to belt your heart out. 

Lando watched in awe through your whole performance. If anyone asked him about your singing, he’d say it’s the most beautiful sound in the world. Whether you were singing Defying Gravity or 22,  he loved it. He thought you were one of, if not the best, singers in the world. That your talent blew the competition out of the water. It wasn’t often that he got to listen to your singing, so the few times he was able to, he savored every second of it. 

But of course, he couldn’t let you have all the fun. As you belted and approached the final riff, Lando took it upon himself to become a part of the ensemble. He stood up from his seat and raced to kneel before you, slowly lying on the ground and singing along to the backing vocals of the song. 

He watched as you successfully attempted Cynthia Erivo’s rift, not being able to hide the smile that is plastered on his face. 

As the song ends, silence fills the room, only the sounds of the two of you trying to catch your breaths can be heard. You drop the broom and step down from your chair, looking at Lando who is now laying flat on the floor as if he was the one carrying that performance on his back.

He clearly wasn’t moving anytime soon so you decided to join him on the floor, falling onto him and resting your head on his chest, listening to his heart as it slows. You feel Lan wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer to him and feeling him kiss your head. 

Lan unties the blanket from around your neck and wraps the blanket around the two of you, wanting to relax for the next few minutes with his favorite person. “That was amazing,” he says. 

“Would you say it was… wickedly amazing?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow at him, trying to supress your smile a bit. 

“Oh shut up.” he laughs, feeling you let out a few giggles as well. “Thank you.”

“For what?” you ask, looking up at him, your brows furrowed in confusion. 

“For a lot of things. But mainly for being here, and making me laugh and making me happy.”

“Oh, you don’t have to thank me. I’m just here, trying my best. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy, thanks to you. I genuinely wouldn’t be here without you. You’ve been here through all my bullshit. I was rude as fuck at times, but you still stayed. I don’t know how I could ever repay you and how much it means to me.” Lan confesses, softly rubbing his thumb along your cheek. 

You move to hover over him, resting on your elbow, “You really don’t have to thank me, Lan. I do all of this because I love you. I do everything for you because I care about you. You’re my favorite person in the world and there’s no one I would rather sing with. I want to spend the rest of my silly little life with you, right by your side.”

“I love you.” “I love you.”

You move to capture Lando’s lips in yours. It’s slow and gentle, feeling him relax as you hold the side of his face with your hand. His lips feel warm against yours and he never wants to forget this feeling, of feeling so safe and happy and like he’s truly loved. He never wants to let you go. You’re his girl. His person.

[coc0amocha]

🏆 Winner || "That means we can have sexy time now, right?"

Satoru managed to (barely) keep himself during no nut November, and he stayed up all night waiting for it to hit December 1st

Satoru X gn!Reader

Word count: 569

You and Satoru were sleeping together–not like that. Not yet at least. You were enjoying your blissful slumber, sunken and curled up in the sheets with Satoru's strong arms holding you..It was a peaceful night... Until the clock struck twelve.

12:00 am Sun, Dec 1st

Satoru was secretly awake the entire time. Waiting for his least favorite month to finally be over. And the second it did end he leaped into an upright position and started shaking you awake

"Sweeeetsss!! Ohh sweeeetttsss!" He said in a cheerful and singsong-like tone and when you began to stir he reached for his phone and turned it on. When you ever so slightly tilted your head in his direction you were immediately flashbanged by a bright screen, squinting your eyes instinctively

"Look, look look look!!" Satoru cheered as he waved the phone in your face

You began to swat at the phone "I can't see it, Toru. It's too close, too bright, and you're moving way too much." You said groggily

He pulled the phone back a little and gestured to the time dramatically "Looook!"

"It's twelve in the goddamn morning."

"Exactly!"

You pulled the covers back over yourself and turned "You're doing too much. Go back to sleep"

He yanked the covers off you and frowned "I won so I should get a reward."

You turned your head back towards him "Won what?" You questioned as you snatched your blanket back

"No nut November, duh!!! Get with the program, sweets." He rolled his eyes playfully

"It's hard to get with anything at twelve in the morning. Go to sleep" You turned your back towards him, pulling the blanket over yourself again

He crossed his arms and pouted "You can get with this dick at twelve."

"Go to bed, Satoru!!!"

His jaw dropped "You're telling me you're not turned on by my witty and charming way of speaking??? This is totally fucked up. You wanna know what else is fucked up? You not giving me a prize after no fun time for a whole MONTH!! Thirty days!!!! I couldn't even do it by myself. You're cruel!"

"Later." You replied blankly

"I didn't wait for it to hit twelve for nothing."

"Nobody told you to do that."

"My willy did!!" He whined "He's touch starved and deserves to be milked"

"Your...wha.." you trailed off and paused before sighing "Stop talking about your dick like it's a person, Satoru."

"He IS a person!!" He pulled you so you'd lay on your back and look at him "An extremely neglected person and only your touch can fix 30 days worth of trauma!"

"Trauma??" You scoffed

"Yes!! You don't understand the things we went through. We hardly survived! It was like living in the trenches!" He exaggerated

You couldn't help but chuckle a little bit "Not even close."

"You wouldn't know!!!" He said in a whiny tone, his voice going up so many octaves you couldn't take him seriously anymore...Not that you could ever take him seriously.

"Listen. Give me a few more hours of sleep and I'll cure 30 days worth of "his" trauma"

"Fiiinnee!!" He said in exasperation, plopping down on his back "but he's going to be very mad at you until then. His words, not mine."

"Of course, Toru. Your dick said it." You said with a playful roll of your eyes as you wrapped yourself back up in your blanket

[coffeegnomee]

the more i think of it the more this kab conflict does parallel eclipse. idk how i feel about that conclusion but-

Because Zam: Zam has chosen a role to play, but that's the extent of his character planning.

But Kab approached it as pure acting, inclusive of planning out the tears and the karma shift.

And this story, despite how much it is Not eclipse, has, inadvertently, hit on the same theme: Zam learning a life skill that he really really wasn't good at before. In s4 it was communication and not just going along with the plan when he really hated the plan. s6 it's having boundaries and holding people to them.

Which tbc is literally why I loved eclipse: how it became a story about real communication issues. Things you could look at and go, damn, that's real life not planned out. That's them actually struggling to get on the same page. That's meta conflict.

ZAM: “kab i just sat here for an hour to cheer you up and now you're doing this to me. Now you're doing this to me. Like are we serious?” KAB: ”I'm sorry do I owe you something?” ZAM: “do you owe me something? YEA COMMON DECENCY MAN! COMMON DECENCY. Come on!”

This unironically feels like when he realized he was trying to make everyone happy, even chat. He's said so many times this season that nobody talks to him like he's a real person. And he's finally insisting that they do.

Kab spent the hour trying to pull emotions from him, get him to promise, get him to feel sympathy. All to get him to feel indebted to her to go along with her plan. It's a planned arc. The tears were planned, the karma shift was planned.

To me it feels like Kab approached that stream thinking she could pull some emotional beats and zam would go along with them and at the end he would be teamed with her and it would set the stage for angst later on. That he would yes-and within her proposed story.

But what she got instead was a princezam who has actually learned from s4 and has learned from s5 and can now communicate and for the first time in his lifesteal life is putting up boundaries. And he is not going to just go along with it because he's afraid of stepping on your lore and messing it up.

And that's when he stopped her cold. that's when she had to drop the karma evil talk and go back to trying to convince him. that's where she ended the stream exactly where she began.

Because the eclipse conflict wasn't about going along with the lore for the sake of an emotional moment of betrayal, it was all in opposing the lore for the sake of learning how to stand up for himself.

I just think that's really interesting.

[ladykailitha]

The Good Elf Part 1

Hello, it's December so that means Christmas!! For the next four weeks, I'm going to be posting two chapters a day until the Sunday before Christmas. And if it stays the eight chapters I'm planning it should be all out on time. (fingers crossed, it is going smoothly soo...)

Summary: Steve is a business man charged with planning his dad's company Christmas party. Christmas has never been a good day for him, so he's a bit of Scrooge as far as the holiday is concerned. So when he meets tree farmer Eddie Munson, the man decided to show Steve what Christmas means. And maybe with a little Christmas magic Steve will find more than just a love for the holiday, he'll find love for Christmas too.

~

On October 31st, I gathered my best elves and explained my problem.

Dear elves, it has come to my attention in the light of recent events Christmas cheer is down nearly a thousand percent. There aren’t that many of us, so Mrs. Claus and I have come to the conclusion that we should send out ambassadors to places that need it the most. You don’t have to turn the whole town, just one person. Because that one person will have a ripple effect that will spread to others.

These are the list of places we think you’ll do the most good:

I listed off all the towns and I turn to the last elf in the line.

“I have something special in mind for you.”

“Me?” the elf squeaked.

“Yes, I’m sending you to Hawkins, Indiana. I think you’ll do well there.”

“Am I being punished?”

I let out a jolly laugh.

“No little one, not everyone is fit for every job. This is to see what you can do and if this doesn’t work out. We’ll find something else.”

~

It wasn’t that Steve hated his job. No, of course not. He hated that his boss was his dad and everyone shunned him for it. Even though he had gone to school for it same as they had, but nope. Just because he was the boss’s son, it was nepotism. He hated the long hours. He hated the way they were only surface level do-gooders. Paying only lip service to causes like cancer research, the environment, and the queer community, all the while the bosses lined their pockets with bigger and bigger bonuses, while his coworkers and his, yes his, wages stagnated.

But most of all he hated the way the company did Christmas. All talk about food banks and giving to the poor, while throwing lavish parties and big giveaways to the employees.

So no, he didn’t hate his job. He just hated everything about it.

“Steven!” Mr. Harrington boomed, throwing open the door to his office. “I’m going to need you to throw the Christmas party this year. Dolores is out with COVID again and won’t be able to set everything up.”

Steve bit back a groan of annoyance. He sucked at planning.

But before he could launch a protest that sure she could do it from home or find someone else to do it, Mr. Harrington’s phone rang out loudly in the room.

Mr. Harrington held up a finger to shush him while he checked his message.

“Well, damn,” he grunted. “I’m going to have to find a new secratary. That was her husband. Her funeral is on Saturday at 10am. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

He wandered off muttering to himself, wondering if he could get a hot blond this time and whether or Steve’s mother would even notice.

Steve buried his face in his hands and let out a muffled scream. He pinched himself and even picked up a paper to see if he could read it. But alas, he was not dreaming. This wasn’t a nightmare.

He was in actual fucking hell.

~

“Steven!” Mr. Harrington bellowed, storming into his apartment two days later. “One of the IT guys, Milton, Morris or something–”

“Mitch?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow.

Mr. Harrington snapped his fingers. “That’s the one! He managed to get into Delores’s computer and get a list of the vendors and things for the Christmas party. I had him email it to you.”

Steve wandered over to his phone and picked it up. Sure enough there was a very detailed list of everything from decorators and caterers, to budgets for each. It was very well organized.

“Yeah, everything looks good,” he murmured and set his phone back down. He pulled out a vest and suit coat and began putting them on.

“Just one small change,” Mr. Harrington said. “The board wants three of those ‘rent a tree’ deals instead of one big one.”

Steve frowned. “A what now?”

“It’s very eco-friendly,” Mr. Harrington said. “Basically you rent the tree and then give it back for them to be used again the next year, then after they reach a certain height the get planted in the forest.”

“Okay.” Steve wasn’t sure there was anything else he could say to that.

Mr. Harrington blinked at him. “Where are you going so dressed up on a Saturday? You got a meeting I didn’t see on your schedule?”

“I’m going to the funeral, Dad.”

“Whose funeral?” Mr. Harrington asked, his brow wrinkling in confusion, bordering on anger.

Steve paused in pursuit of his nicer dress shoes and turned to him slowly as if he was trying not spoke a predator into attacking.

“Dolores Gardener, your former secretary,” he said just as slow as he turned. Part of him wanted to hold his hands up in a show of submission, but he wasn’t sure how well he would react to that.

Then Mr. Harrington’s face cleared. “Oh, so you drew the short straw. You poor bastard. I already sent them flowers so don’t bother on that front. You mother is demanding your presence at dinner tomorrow. Seven o’clock, sharp. You know how she gets when you’re late.”

He left as loudly as he came, and Steve sat down hard on the bed. He buried his head in his hands. This was going to be a long winter.

~

Steve supposed that the best part about doing the Christmas party was that he was not only given a blank check for all this shit, but that he had been given the time off needed to get it all done.

He didn’t have to show up in the office for anything until the 24th, unless he needed a signature for anything.

He started his hunt for the trees first, mainly because the place the board wanted to use closed up two years ago and they had only picked the first name that came up on a Google search.

He found a rent-a-tree place in nearby Hawkins and decided to take a look.

Steve got into the back seat of his father’s company car and tapped on the roof, to let the drive know he was in and ready to go.

“This seems like quite a distance to get a Christmas tree,” Murray, the driver said, looking at Steve in the rear view mirror.

Steve let out a long sigh. “Yeah, but it’s what Dad wants...”

“And whatever Clint Harrington wants, he gets,” Murray agreed, resigned and pulled into traffic.

They passed in silence as Steve looked up Hawkins. He found out that the town were really big on Christmas each year. Complete with a Christmas village, Santa reigning supreme on a red velvet throne; an ice skating rink set up in the middle of town, though you could ice skate on either of the nearby lakes as well; ice sculpting contests; huge hills for sledding; sleigh rides. Like the whole town transformed into the North Pole from Nov. 1st to Dec. 31st. Two whole months of Christmas.

Steve thought that would have been his own personal hell.

He tossed his phone on the seat next to him and looked back up at Murray. “Oh, I meant to ask, did you get that dog you were looking at?”

Murray’s eyes lit up. “I did.” And began to tell Steve all about the mad cap adventures of Scamp, the corgi.

Finally they were pulling up to the tree farm. In bright festive letters were the words Munson’s Nursery and Tree Farm.

Steve stepped out of the car and looked around. There were so many trees of various types of fir and suddenly he was instantly overwhelmed. He started wandering around and soon he was lost. Not just his direction but what he was supposed to be looking for. He felt like Charles Brown. Like he was going to pick the wrong tree and Christmas was going to be ruin.

His eyes started welling up and he just wanted to go home. He turned around suddenly and bumped into someone who had been coming up behind him.

“Shit!” the man cried out as Steve yelled, “Sorry!”

Then the man’s arms came up to steady him. “Hey are you okay?”

“No,” Steve said with the shake of his head. “I’m supposed to get three trees for the company Christmas party and the person who usually does it, passed away recently and my dad picked me to her place but I’m so overwhelmed!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the man murmured, rubbing Steve’s arms slowly. “Take a deep breath there, sweetheart. You’re hyperventilating.”

Steve took a deep breath and then another until he could see straight. And in the light falling snow the man in front of him cast an ethereal figure. He had long dark curls and dimpled grin and the biggest brown eyes Steve had even seen.

“There you are,” the man said gently. “I’m Eddie. My uncle runs the nursery, so lets find him and we can talk about what you need and for how long, okay?”

Steve took another deep breath and nodded. “Thank you. I’m Steve.”

“Come follow me, Stevie,” Eddie said cheerfully.

He turned a corner and spotted a volunteer. “Hey, Robbie, did you see which direction Uncle Wayne went?”

She peered around the area and then pointed. “Last I saw him he was in the Douglas firs with Mrs. Click.”

Eddie grimaced. “I wonder if she’ll trying grade him for his ‘knowledge’ of trees.” He shook his head and bid Steve to follow him.

They turned a couple of corners and there was a nice older man with thinning hair and a soft smile talking with what Steve assumed was pickled lemon come to life. Everything about her was pinched and yellow. And angry.

Very, very angry.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie said cheerfully. “I have a doosey for ya. This gentleman needs three trees for his work. I’ll take over for you if you want to help him out?”

Wayne smiled that same crinkle-eyed, dimple smile his nephew had and turned to Steve. “First time buy a live tree?”

“First time buying any tree,” Steve admitted dryly. “Not much of a Christmas person really.”

Eddie whipped around. “How can you not love Christmas?” he said, scandalized, holding his heart in his hands. “It’s only the most magical day of the year!”

“Young man, are you going to help me or not?” Mrs. Click hissed. “I’m looking for a Douglas fir and these aren’t Douglas firs!”

Wayne led Steve away as Eddie looked around himself in confusion. “Ma’am, these are Douglas firs. Maybe describe what you’re looking for and we see if we have it...”

Steve turned to Wayne. “Is he going to be okay with her? She reminds me of my mom and not in a good way.”

Wayne threw his head back and laughed. “He’ll be fine. He’ll play dumb until either they figure out what she wants or she goes elsewhere. Happens every year.”

Steve looked behind him, worriedly, but followed Wayne to a nice little hut in the center of the maze of trees. Wayne unlocked the door and sat him down.

“All right,” Wayne said sliding over an info-graphic that had roughly a dozen or so different trees. “We don’t have every tree on that list, but if you like one of the ones that isn’t I can try to find you something close enough.”

Steve pulled the nicely drawn poster closer to him. “Wow, I didn’t realize that there was so many.”

“That’s fair,” Wayne grabbed the poster and slid it off to the side. “So lets narrow it down. What’s the tree going to be for? Inside or outside?”

“Inside,” Steve said quickly. “The ceilings are fifteen feet.”

Wayne nodded in approval. “That’s good that you know that. Most people don’t and try buying a fifteen footer when they only have ten foot ceilings. Is it going to be lit? Decorated?”

Steve nodded. Another answer he knew right away.

“Will there be presents under it?” Wayne asked warmly.

“No,” he said with a small, fragile smile. “It’s for an office.”

Wayne pulled out a piece of paper and started jotting down Steve’s answers. “Right, any other requirements?”

Steve chewed on the skin around his nails. “Do you have the rent-a-tree program? My fa–I mean my boss was hoping to go green this year.”

Wayne’s eyes narrowed at the slip up but said nothing. Instead he pulled out a list from the top drawer of the desk. “These are the trees that are available to be rented out. Most of them are Douglas firs, like the ones where you found me. Though we do have a lovely trio of Fraser firs that are about six feet tall.”

Steve pulled the poster over to him again and then nodded. “I’ll take all three.”

Wayne blinked at him for a moment. “This will be an office, I’m assuming. Do you have house keeping that can water the trees?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve said. “We have other live plants year round and I have already cleared it with the head of housekeeping before coming here.”

Wayne nodded appreciatively. “Sounds like you’ve got everything figured out. Why were you so nervous before?”

Steve ducked his head and blushed. “It’s my first year doing it and I’m not really into the whole holiday. I was worried I’d get it wrong, especially since I really don’t care, but the people I’m buying for do.”

Wayne nodded again and started pulling up the paper work for the trees. “If you can write the name of the company, the address, and the date they need to be delivered by, I’ll ring you up a bill of sale.”

“Great.”

He started filling out the information and was almost done when Eddie walked back in with a wide grin and a check in hand.

“That saucy minx tried to get me to tie the tree to her car before she paid,” he said easily. “Can you believe it?”

Wayne chuckled. “Yes. Does it every year. Would you move our rentable Frasers, our friend here will be taking all three.”

Eddie’s eyebrows wagged. “Friend indeed! I’ll be right on it.” He got this grin on his face as Steve pulled out the checkbook from his briefcase. “You said you were planning your work Christmas do, right?”

Steve handed the check to Wayne who then gave him a receipt in return, then he turned to Eddie. “Well, sure. I’ve got to buy all the decorations and lights and all that jazz. Why do you ask?”

Eddie licked his lips slowly. “You see, I’ve got friends who might be able to help you out with some of that stuff.”

Steve blinked at him for a moment. “What do you get out of it?”

“Let me show you the fun side of Christmas,” Eddie said with an even bigger grin. “You get everything you need, my friends get your company’s business, it’s win/win/win for everyone. What do you say?”

Steve snapped his briefcase shut and stuck out his hand. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Eddie could barely contain his glee. “Just wait until I tell Robin, she thought for sure you’d say no!”

Steve threw his head back and laughed.

~

The italics are Santa, if that's not quite clear.

Tag List: TEN SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[helplessautomaton]

its you, youre all i see

y!daisuke x reader

wc, 853

writing this as i eat my beef bone broth ramen and listening to Queen

going off my word vomits, somewhat soft? everyone is mentioned

~

it'd been a week. yet the frustration and tiredness was setting in more heavily now. you tapped along whatever surface was available to you, something that wasnt so interruptive. daisuke wasnt here in the medical room with you, where you actually were needed. you were anya's intern but as of late you felt more like swansea's instead. you genuinely felt so bad for the woman, constantly being whisked off to a department you had little to none experience in. there's only so much of a branch she could offer towards your situation before getting fed up with it.

not to mention curly's frustrations with the situation at hand. god forbid if jimmy ever saw you, the man always managed to show up in the wrong place at the wrong time. getting more and more pissed off with you, to the point he almost put his hands on you. by some horrible place of giving credit where its due, you couldnt find yourself to blame him. before the extent of the situation got to be more, everyone thought your relationship with daisuke was cute. as long as it didnt interrupt work- now it feels thats all you ever did. you didnt want to pity yourself while proceeding not to do anything. obviously not wanting to be seen as a burden who stayed near only one person and couldnt do anything.

daisuke was so attached to your person, his million dollar smile refusing to extinguish when his arms were around your waist. you had your own little ray of sunshine by the hip, but eventually it began to burn. the two of you were getting constantly scolded by someone, even if you tried to explain to daisuke— you really needed to be helping anya right now. yet daisuke managed to make you stay just a bit longer and the cycle would repeat. there were times where you two were properly doing your separated tasks and the overall mood would lighten, apart from swansea complaining about daisuke. anya would relax and smile more towards you, curly looked like he didnt have a headache for most of the day, jimmy- jimmy was himself, couldnt have given less than a shit about him. these were times you didnt mind when daisuke stole you away, after shift when you both were doing your job separately.

yet, daisuke couldnt let you go for long, he'd start whining then run off to find you if swansea didnt force him to stick by his side. besides those moments, when hes with you he still feels the same as he was when you two first met. just always a little closer, letting you play with his hair or anything he was allowed to bring with. those were the times of normalcy where it didnt feel like everyone was on the edge of snapping at you two. both of you laughing at each other's jokes and getting along swimmingly. never failing to catch the stars in daisukes eyes whenever you were just there, in proximity to him. never mattered where you stood or sat, his eyes were wide open. somehow they only got wider when you praised him- even by a little bit. his too good smile radiating over to you as he held your hands in his.

daisuke always noticed your tiredness to some degree. genuinely concerned for you, slowing down to match your mood. he needed to be the one to cheer you up, in his mind no one else could do it as well as he did. you were aware of his inability to hand you over, even to your captain who might have needed you for something. in the back of your head, you understood why, he enjoyed your company like no else and he didnt want it to suddenly be cut off.

he always managed to some extent cheer you up, he made it hard to say no. some part of your brain was happy about that, he was your best friend after all. even if all the tension was caused by his need for you to be by him. his love was vibrant even if you thought he wasnt really in touch with it. he was just all over you and there was truth to say it was overwhelming but some part of you didnt mind. yet you had to stay reasonable and not let it consume you, you had a job to do.

you were quickly pulled away from your thoughts by anya, completely forgetting where you were. she gave you a concerned smile before stating that she had no idea you were in here waiting for her. giving a nervous laugh you apologized for being in your own head and not coming to find her first. just at this point hoping you get to stay doing your intended task and spending time bonding with someone different. hopefully you could find a balance with daisuke so this could all work out in some capacity.

[httpvomitello]

Pretty Girls Fight Like This! ⊂⁠(⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠⊂⁠ ⁠)⁠*⁠.⁠✧

When Raph first met you, he didn’t know what to make of you. You were certainly unique—long, multi-colored hair that seemed to glow under the lair’s fluorescent lights, a bubbly personality that clashed with his tough-guy demeanor, and an aura of joy that was almost infectious.

But what really threw him off was the first time he saw you fight.

It was a routine patrol when the Kraang ambushed you and the turtles. Raph had expected to step in and protect you—after all, you didn’t exactly look like a fighter. But before he could charge in, you grabbed a Kraang droid by the arm, swung it over your shoulder, and sent it flying into a wall.

“Whoa!” Mikey yelled, nearly dropping his nunchucks.

“Where the shell did that come from?” Raph blurted, staring at you.

You dusted off your hands, smiling brightly. “Oh, I’ve always been strong. Comes in handy when fighting bad guys!”

Raph blinked, completely thrown off. You were stronger than you looked—stronger than him, even—and yet you carried yourself with such lightheartedness that it was hard to reconcile the two.

As time went on, Raph found himself intrigued by your quirks.

During a movie night at the lair, you polished off slice after slice of pizza without breaking a sweat.

“Damn, you eat like Mikey,” Raph said, watching as you reached for another slice.

You laughed, wiping your mouth with a napkin. “What can I say? Fighting bad guys works up an appetite!”

He smirked, shaking his head. “You’re somethin’ else.”

Then there were your outfits.

You had a habit of wearing bright, pastel-colored clothes that clashed hilariously with the dark, gritty atmosphere of the lair. Raph wasn’t sure whether to admire your boldness or shake his head in disbelief.

“You ever heard of stealth?” he asked one day, gesturing to your neon-pink jacket.

You grinned, twirling around to show off the outfit. “Stealth is overrated. Besides, I like feeling cute!”

Raph rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips.

What really solidified Raph’s feelings for you, though, was a quiet moment in the lair.

He noticed you constantly tugging at your socks during training. They never stayed up, no matter how many times you adjusted them. At first, he didn’t think much of it, but the more he watched, the more it started to bother him.

The next time he went topside, he made a stop at a store and picked out a pair of long, durable socks. They weren’t flashy—just a simple black pair.

When he handed them to you, you blinked in surprise.

“Socks?” you said, holding them up.

“Yeah,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “I noticed yours kept fallin’ down during training, so... figured these might help.”

Your eyes softened, and you gave him a warm smile. “Raph, that’s so sweet. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said quickly, trying to hide the redness creeping up his neck.

But you weren’t done. Without warning, you threw your arms around him in a tight hug, catching him completely off guard.

“You’re the best, Raph,” you said, squeezing him.

He froze for a moment before awkwardly patting your back. “Yeah, well... somebody’s gotta look out for you.”

From then on, Raph found himself going out of his way to spend time with you. Whether it was sparring, sharing a meal, or just hanging out in the lair, he couldn’t help but gravitate toward you.

You, in turn, started making small gestures to show your appreciation—bringing him snacks, cheering him on during training, and even surprising him with a custom wristband you’d made with your crafting skills.

“What’s this?” he asked when you handed it to him.

“It’s a wristband,” you said, smiling. “I figured it’d match your whole tough-guy vibe.”

Raph stared at the gift for a moment, his chest tightening with an unfamiliar warmth. “Thanks,” he said gruffly, slipping it onto his wrist.

But deep down, he couldn’t stop smiling.

Raph wasn’t used to letting people in, but with you, it felt natural. Your strength, your quirks, your unshakable optimism—it all made him want to be better, to protect you even though you didn’t need it.

And as you sat next to him one evening, laughing at Mikey’s antics and glowing in your brightly colored outfit, Raph realized that he didn’t just like you. He cared about you, more than he’d ever thought possible.

[tixdixl]

Rave Up! - TWST Ficlet

Word Count: 2,003

Characters: René Lamar, Ortho Shroud, Fellow Honest, and mentions of the entire Playful Land cast.

A/N: I kept thinking about how like... if you remove the theater scene from its intended perspective, it's kind of something out of a horror story. So uh... have a genre shifted reimagining of the Twisttune scene from Playful Land!

“- the students of Night Raven College!!”

They had been drawn in, all of them, sat down in the auditorium under the guise of being able to watch a grandiose show. While initially the black swan had anticipated a giant and elaborate puppet show, instead, the announcer had called forth the wily crew of mages and if they were the performers. Except… none of them had rehearsed anything. No song, nor dance. No comedy sketch, nor theatrical rendition of one of the tales of the Great Seven. Nothing. 

This bafflement rippled through the gaggle of students like a wave. Exclamations of doubt, of refusal, of disgust followed in succession, like the clamour of angry sparrows raiding another bird’s nest. And yet despite their cries of protest, the announcer himself appeared before him with his henchman in toe. With a wave of his cane, the cries died down and resurfaced as applauding agreement. Almost like a stolen breath, the word of their Unique Magic escaped their lips in a quiet whisper. And for a brief moment, Fellow’s vulpine eyes locked with theirs. Like he knew. And they knew too. But not another person amongst them could clock what had begun to develop in a matter of seconds. The tension thick and yet isolated between them. Both trapped in a dance of territorial pursuit. Two predators vying and yet neither able to make a definitive move. If Fellow made a move, he’d blow his cover. If René made a move, their companions would be helpless but to turn on them. Both knew it without question.

In the harmony of cheers, René found themself wordlessly dragged up on stage. The stage lights beamed down on them, the familiar rays of light scorched any surface they hit, and any coloration dwindled from the sheer vibrance of their illumination. Within seconds, the students seemed to march into a formation, all taking a performative stance, ready to begin. The alarms continued to resound in their head, more audacious- more thunderous as the seconds ticked by. Slowly, they all drew closer to the moment they would all perform. 

But no one had practiced!

As their gaze zipped around like a fly, assessing the situation in real time, the music began. And so did everyone else. The song’s intro pierced through the anticipatory silence with high energy and a fast BPM. 

It hit them in the moment. As the group began to bounce, and Ace began to sing a melody that they had never heard before, they were on their own and couldn’t disrupt the show. They began to bop along to the beat, keeping their eyes on any distinguishing role, between leads and ensemble. Immediately they caught the spotlights focusing on Ace, Kalim, and Ortho, who collectively appeared none the wiser. Then again… as did everyone else. 

Everyone else in the ensemble followed along in perfect sync. With split second choices and a constantly moving gaze, they did their best to stay in line. Arms swinging. Feet marching. Batons twirling. More and more, the pressure weighed down, heavier and heavier. They had to keep up. They had to sell perfection. All the while, the rest of the students sang and moved with uncanny precision, as if they were moving autonomously. Even the best principals, or the most well trained ensembles would have variability. No human would be in perfect, unmistakable synchronization with every other dancer on stage. Yes, they could come close. But humans were bound to mess up and make error. That's why professionalism was key in the dancer world. Technique and form triumphed over flexibility as selling the illusion of perfect artistry often was a tough sell.

But them… these students moved with an eerie accuracy that even stumped them. They had no faith in any of the students that weren’t Vil and maybe Kalim or Ortho to have the training and discipline to create that sort of faux perfection on stage. Even their own movements, as light on their feet as they were, barely kept up with the energy and choreography of everyone else. No… everything about this was wrong. The song. The dance. The sets and lights. Not a single aspect of this set up felt right. Nothing was executed without the utmost suspicion at this point. And yet they could barely keep their attention away long enough to attempt to parse through their thoughts. 

It was wrong. It was all wrong. They were acting no better than marionettes on string, and yet they were so very much alive. 

There was no way they had control over their own movements, and yet no one resisted. No one showed even a modicum of discomfort. They showed zero signs of their staminas faltering either. Granted, they couldn’t keep track of much, but the movements of their companions never slowed down or lacked strength. They found it both oddly refreshing and yet incredibly grotesque.

They needed to leave. They all did. The auditorium. The park. They needed to leave Playful Land- together in one piece. And yet no one else recognized even remotely what was happening. 

The music eventually came to a stop, usurped entirely by the roaring applause of the audience. As they held their final pose, René felt their lungs screaming for air. Their chest heaved for a moment as they kept their poise. Yet as their eyes darted around, they saw no sign of withering from the others. Their breaths steady, composed. With every feasible attempt, the black swan mirrored their posture, and followed the group as they left the stage. They couldn’t shake the lurking sense of danger, as the alarms continued to ring in their head. And yet… they knew this wasn’t over.

As the auditorium cleared out, the black swan lingered. Their pace slowed in comparison to their companions. An unconscious hand dwelled at their sternum as they felt their blood surge through their veins. The firm beat of their heart no more still or passive than a rave at midnight. They felt the sweat drip down their spine with a hypersensitivity, wondering if those around them felt their own. Did they even sweat? 

Underneath layers of sealed makeup, their cheeks flared with a heat representative of the sensation permeating in their body. They felt their lungs continuing to beg for air; yet despite this, they kept their breaths slow, silent, deliberate.  Masking even the hold of their posture, they tried to blend in with their peers. None of them seemed winded by the intensive performance they’d collectively put on. Their collective lungs ever full. Their costumes perfectly draped and without a hint of sweat- not in smell, nor in dampness. No signs of any work done; no signs of any physical duress. It all further confirmed their observations and suspicions while they had been performing. And even if their observations presented no conclusions, they were enough to simply recognize that something suspiciously magical was afoot. Something potentially sinister. Equally dangerous.

Worse. Familiar. 

A phantom throb pierced through their skull like a premonition. Like a nightmare becoming a daydream, their eyes retraced the outline of their father’s suit splayed out on the floor. The magic lining the walls and floor in a fairy tale display. Their magic. And the echoes of the people they shamefully cared about reverberated in their ears. 

Without realizing it, René had begun to futz with the hem of their glove. Despite their fidgeting, they barely processed the feeling of the overlock stitch between their fingers. As their eyes shifted between the pristine dispositions of their school mates, a gentle tap on their elbow caught their attention. 

“Um, Mx. Lamar?” piped up the petite voice, reminiscent of a younger child, “Are you okay?”

Their eyes met the dim glow of gold. Concern radiated from his eyes more brightly than even the LEDs in his little body.

“My sensors are detecting an increased heart rate, lowered levels of oxygen, an overall increase in body temperature and increased Norepinephrine and Cortisol levels.”

There was something uncanny about his voice. During the majority of their time together that morning, he had sounded like a normal human child. Even as he asked if they were okay, he sounded… normal. But as he listed off the undeniable data of their physiological state, his voice retained an electronic nature, like his autonomous nature had been overridden by an AI. Like… he was being puppeted. 

After everything they’d bore witness to, a crawling sensation surged down their arms and legs. A sense of unease as his words entered their ears. 

And yet, they couldn’t give away their position. They couldn’t let them know of their fear. Or of what they saw. As their scammy host glided around the group and through their periphery, the brutal reminder of their collective predator on the prowl kept them in line. They let go of their sleeve, placing their hand over the back of the other. And with a naturally practiced smile, one believable by almost every person that’d ever met it, formed on their lips. They softened their eyes deliberately, their gaze now no different than those full of awe and wonder. 

“Of course~,” they responded with a lie smoother than melted butter, “I always get this way after a successful performance!”

They tried to keep that sense of uncanny excitement that they noticed in the rest of the crew. Truthfully this entire scenario tested their acting and manipulation skills on a level they’d never faced before. Yet with the unwavering confidence of a swan, they added, “You have to take everything in once it’s over. Otherwise, the moment will pass you and you’ll forget how much you enjoyed it.”

The robot seemed incredibly unphased, “But… then I would expect to see serotonin and dopamine releases…” 

He paused, giving the black swan an opportunity to cut in and manipulate the conversation- gently. To protect them. Yeah… that was clearly the reason, even if they opted to deny it.

“Playful Land has shown itself to be a really magical place. Perhaps my body is just reacting differently to the magic?” they offered, lying through their teeth, “I promise you; I’m feeling ecstatic and I loved that performance. It was super fun and energetic. Truthfully, I’m just excited to see what else is in store by the park!”

They hated how generic and scripted that sounded. The words tasted like expired  kool aid mix without water. Grainy. Over-the-top. Surely, they could have delivered that lie with more believability. But as out of sorts as they were, they had to admit to themself that their brain had a bit of a  delay at present.

The little robot’s eyes widened. His hand rested carefully over his mask, where his mouth would be. He seemed to be contemplating what they suggested, likely not having considered to what extent magic had been at play. In truth, this lie was deliberate. To save their face, sure, but again, in a defensive measure, to offer Ortho a reminder. If there was one person they knew could investigate with subtly and accuracy, it was the humanoid. 

“If it is magic, then there’s more to this place than Fellow has let us believe,” Ortho pondered, “That’s really fascinating!”

They let their breath out with a soft exhale, careful not to draw further suspicion. Yet, despite the lie somehow landing effectively, they couldn’t help but notice the nagging feeling that Ortho hadn’t picked up on the fact that he should be concerned, something that by all accounts he should have done given the conversation they’d had before setting foot in the park. He seemed like the kind of character to acknowledge and analyze those sorts of cues. Yet… he didn’t now. Perhaps, they had misread him. Or worse, perhaps the magic of this place naturally lowered their defenses farther than they already had. Whatever the reason, they hoped that someone else- anyone else- would pick up on the signs soon. At least, before Fellow could beat them in this game of chess…

~~~

Tag list: @ramshacklerumble @the-trinket-witch @rainesol @elenauaurs @theleechyskrunkly

@cyanide-latte @winterweary @thehollowwriter @starry-night-rose @boopshoops

@lumdays @twstinginthewind @inmateofthemind

Lmk if you want added/removed

[spryzzi-writes]

quick bakudeku drabble I did as a practice for a fic I'm going to be writing, figured I'd share! I've never written either of these characters before, so if anyone has any advice for making them more in-character, feel free to share, I'd appreciate it <3 this is also my first time writing a character with any sort of chronic issue, so comments about that are welcome also

//

“Hey, nerd, food’s done!”

Katsuki pulls two bowls down from the cupboard, dumping a healthy helping of tofu katsu curry into both. He sets both of them on the counter, waiting for Izuku to bounce down the hallway with all of his usual energy, waiting to hear his voice rambling on about whatever he’d been reading from his nerd book. His knee bounces, fingers drumming along his arm, waiting, waiting. 

The clock ticks another minute. Then another. Katsuki huffs, leaving the food to march to their bedroom. Izuku’s probably too engrossed in his studying, maybe doodling the diagrams into his personal notebook, maybe reading far past the required pages. Because he’s a nerd like that. Katsuki’s chest tightens the more he thinks about it, and he scowls to himself, pushing into the doorway of their bedroom.

Izuku isn’t curled over his books like he’d assumed. He’s leaning against the side of the bed, arms braced against it, forehead pressed to his arms. His face is hidden, but his body is tight, tense, muscles twitching through his arms and legs. 

Ah. Katsuki knows what’s happening.

“Deku.”

Izuku flinches, head jerking up. “Kacchan,” he sighs, relaxing into the floor. “I—sorry, I can’t—I’m trying to—”

“Shut up,” Katsuki says, moving to crouch next to him and wrapping his arms under Izuku’s shoulders. “I told you to tell me when it’s bad, dumbass.”

They stand up together, most of Izuku’s weight on Katsuki, but once he’s upright he finds his feet, pushing Katsuki’s hands away. “I know, I know, but you shouldn’t have to help me, I can do it myself, it’s just—”

He takes a couple steps and stumbles, Katsuki’s hands waiting expectantly to steady him. “You can’t do it yourself,” Katsuki growls, looping Izuku’s arm around his neck and wrapping his own around his waist. “That’s what I’m here for, nerd.”

“But I—” “If you say one more stupid thing I’m going to eat all of the curry.”

“Your food’s so good though,” Izuku whines, finally settling his weight onto Katsuki and allowing him to lead them to the kitchen. 

“I fucking know, that’s why you’re going to stop being a dumbass and ask when you need help.” He makes sure Izuku is settled on his stool before sitting next to him, shovelling a bite of the curry into his mouth. Beside him, Izuku inhales like he’s going to say something, and Katsuki glares. Izuku deflates, taking his own bite of the food instead.

They eat in silence, Katsuki finishing first and standing back up. “Where’s your cane? And don’t fucking say you don’t need it.”

“By the couch, somewhere.” Izuku’s voice is worn, lacking his normal cheer. Katsuki’s heart clenches, but he says nothing, instead finding Izuku’s cane and bringing it back to him. He lets Izuku get himself off of the stool, walk himself back to the bedroom, has to prevent himself from hovering. That only makes Izuku feel worse, he knows. He rinses their bowls out and leaves them in the sink for later, trailing after his boyfriend.

Izuku is standing, looking at the books and papers scattered on the floor. Katsuki scoffs, scooping them up and dumping them on the bed. “You can keep studying, nerd. I have’ta do it too.”

He finds his own materials and climbs onto the bed, settling with his back against the headboard. Izuku hasn’t moved, is red-faced and watery-eyed, and Katsuki clenches his jaw, waiting for Izuku to make his own choice.

Eventually, he drags himself onto the bed, sitting next to Katsuki, His muscles are still twitching. Katsuki doesn’t even think when he reaches out and starts to rub his hand along Izuku’s bicep, kneading at the skin with his fingers. Izuku sighs, crumbling into his side.

“Does it hurt?” “A little.”

Katsuki keeps the ministrations going, pulling his textbook towards himself and opening it with his other hand. Something wet presses into his shoulder, and Katsuki turns to see Izuku with tears slipping down his cheeks. Crybaby, he thinks, a blossom of warmth opening in his chest. “What are you crying about, nerd?”

“You’re—you’re so nice to me,” he blubbers, squeezing his eyes shut. “You help me to—to walk and stand and you—you help with the pain without me even asking and you’re just so nice.”

Katsuki taps at Izuku’s chin until he looks up. “I’ve told you, Deku, it’s not a problem,” he mumbles, the words feeling awkward in his mouth, but he speaks them anyway. “You’re my boyfriend, so I help you. Because I want to, or whatever.”

“You really don’t care? Even though you need to be with me so often and sometimes you stay home instead of going out because I’m having a bad day and even—”

“Yes, dumbass. I’ve told you how many times?”

“A lot,” Izuku mutters, hiding his face back into Katsuki’s shoulder.

“Right, so believe it. I’m not a fucking liar.”

“I know. You’re really nice, Kacchan.”

Katsuki can feel his face heating up. “Shut up, no I’m not.”

“You are,” Izuku giggles. It’s a nice sound.

“Just read more of your nerd books,” Katsuki says, dumping one into Izuku’s lap. 

He smiles, still teary, yet it’s genuine, brighter. “Okay, Kacchan.”

[rexscanonwife]

Lordddd ok so obviously my fnaf ship would have a lot of angst, naturally, but I'm watching jacksepticeyes sister location playthrough and I have Thoughts.

[onthevirgooftears]

not to be insane or anything but it really pisses me off when people say whit killed arei 💀 it is objectively never that serious but everytime i see someone come up with a theory or whatever it just shows such a fundamental misunderstanding of his character and not that I'm a veteran or anything but i just wanted to right some wrongs.

whit is not a killer. he exists in a sphere of kindness and prosperity and nothing else. people only think he's suspicious because we've been dispositioned to think every 'nice' character in danganronpa is secretly evil. whit does not have a facade, he's truly and 100% a good person.

looking back at some of his character defining moments it's so striking that he was one of the only people to give his kindness to the two people who were at the time not very nice people themselves. its striking that he doesn't reveal charles' secret in the first trial until he feels as though charles is comfortable enough for everyone to know and how he does the same thing with david in the second trial because it simply isn't his secret to tell.

he extends kindness to those who probably don't deserve it and actively is willing to put aside his own personal grievances in order to comfort someone when they’re in need. like, it's insane to me that you can look at all of that say "yep 💀 that guys definitely the killer!" HES A GOOD PERSON like literally what more do i have to say.

[happy74827]

Feels Like Home

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You decide to take it upon yourself to become best friends with Wade’s new grumpy addition to the family (much to Logan’s dismay).

WC: 2453

Category: Fluff, Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Logan trope {TW: Bar Fight, Handsy Drunk Dude, Mentions of Blood + Bruising}.

[Dedicated to: @iluvloganhowlett] I finished it for you!! (I’m shocked at the speed too don’t worry 💀). Hopefully this fluffiness will help add onto the low supply out there.

And incase anyone hasn’t seen it yet: DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

『••✎••』

You’ve always had a keen eye when it came to others. It’s mostly why you and Wade get along so well; you’re the one person who can see straight through him. And while it means you are very close, it also meant that you can easily tell when something is going on with someone you don't know that well, like the tall, brooding man named Logan, who had just joined the club of misfits.

You could tell by the way he carried himself that he had been through hell and back. He was quiet, grumpy, and had a tendency to snap at Wade, which, most of the time, was a well-deserved snapping.

You could also tell that there was more to him. He wasn't just a grumpy guy; there was something about him that made you want to be his friend. Maybe it was the sadness in his eyes, or maybe it was how lonely he looked.

Either way, you knew he was in need of a good friend, and you wanted to be that friend. Not a pestering one like Wade, but the kind of friend that just makes you feel a bit better.

So, when you spotted him, downing glass after glass of whiskey for the third day in a row, you just knew you had to help.

And he hated it. Oh, man, he absolutely hated it. You were such a happy ray of sunshine, always smiling, always laughing. He found it so fucking annoying. He couldn't deal with you and your constant positivity. It was like you were the PG-13 version of the breathing ballsack next to you.

But you wouldn't give up. Every time you saw him, you would try to cheer him up by making silly jokes, giving him small gifts, or even just sending him encouraging smiles.

He didn't want any of it, but it seemed you were too stubborn to listen. Every small note you’d given him was left crinkled in the trash; every gift was placed away without ever being touched. Your smile never got a response.

That is, until one day, as you walked by him, he mumbled something that almost made you trip over.

"Thanks."

You stopped in your tracks and turned around to face him, a look of disbelief on your face. You had tried so hard to cheer him up for the past few weeks, and this was the only thing you got from him? You couldn't believe it.

You had spent so much time and effort trying to make him feel better, and this was all he could say to you?

You wanted to hug him. To scream to the skies and celebrate that he finally accepted your kindness.

You held the restraint to do so, though. You didn’t want to cause him to close off again, and so instead, you sent him a soft smile, and a small nod, before you resumed walking (running) to your friends.

The next day, however, you were met with the biggest surprise of your life.

Logan was sitting at the bar, drinking. He didn't look too different, still dressed in his trademark blue jeans and flannel shirt, but his face was still holding that sadness you had grown used to seeing on him.

You walked over to him and sat down beside him, that classic smile of yours plastered on your face.

"Hi!"

He groaned. "You're not going to leave me alone, are you?"

"Nope!" You replied cheerfully, popping the 'p.'

He grumbled under his breath and downed the last of his drink, signaling to the bartender for another.

"Come on, Wolvie," you said, nudging his shoulder. "Lighten up. Life's not that bad, is it?"

He turned to glare at you, his dark brown eyes piercing into yours. "It's Logan," he said, his voice a low growl.

You shrugged and leaned closer to him, propping your elbow on the counter. This was the usual part—the part where he would give vocal responses while you carried on your one-sided conversation with him.

The difference this time, the surprise of it all, was when a person approached the both of you. Mind you, a very drunk person.

"Heyyyyy, baby girl," he slurred, his hand landing on your shoulder.

You turned to him, and he was looking you up and down with that gaze you knew had only one intention. You still smiled, though, and politely moved his hand off your shoulder.

"Uh, hi?" You answered unsurely.

He slammed his elbow on the counter, his palm on his fist. "You are gorgeous," he commented, and you had to hold back the laughter that was bubbling in your throat.

"Thank you," you chuckled.

Logan scoffed, rolling his eyes, but you paid him no mind. Usual behavior from him, nothing new.

"No, really," the stranger continued, moving his arm around your shoulders, "I think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Well, I'm glad you think so," you answered, still chuckling. "But, I think you're a little drunk."

"Drunk on love," he responded, "Say, wanna get out of here? I'll show you a real good time."

Here comes the awkward part, you thought.

You shook your head, and removed his arm from around your shoulders. "Thank you for… uh, the kind offer," you answered, "But, no, thank you."

You expected him to shrug it off and leave or to just be a dick, as many drunken guys are. But no, this guy did not know how to take a hint.

Instead, he tightened his grip around you and pulled you closer to him, his free hand moving down your waist. "Come on, baby," he said, his words slurring. "You know you want to."

You sighed. You were really hoping it wouldn't have to come to this.

You were about to speak, to politely, yet firmly, tell him to leave you alone, but before you could open your mouth, a gruff voice beat you to it.

"She said no,"

He didn’t even look at the man or you. His eyes were still fixated on the counter as if he was talking to his glass, but he had turned his head a bit to the side so that you could hear him clearly.

The drunk stranger was startled by the sudden intervention. He let go of you and looked over at Logan, confusion clear in his face.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, his brows furrowed.

"Does it matter?" Logan grumbled.

"Yeah, it does," the stranger retorted, his slurring voice suddenly getting serious. "If I'm gonna be having fun, I don't want an audience."

Oh, how you hated confrontations.

Logan just scoffed with a slight hint of a smile, shaking his head as he still refused to turn around.

"Trust me, pal," he replied, "I ain't interested in watching you do anything."

"Good." He went back to his obnoxious grin, now directing his attention back to you. Oh, man, he was an eyesore.

"So, how about it, beautiful? Wanna head somewhere else?" He slurred.

You were about to reply, again, with a polite rejection, but your shoulder was being grabbed at again, and if it wasn’t for the small training session that Colossus had put you through, you were sure you would have lost your footing.

"Can you let go of me, please?" You asked politely, but the man was a brick wall.

"Nah, sweetheart," he shook his head, and the movement was so intense, you could almost hear the alcohol sloshing around in his head, "You're comin' with me. Trust me, you’ll be perfectly taken care of."

That was when the sound of glass slamming against the counter reached your ears, and you didn't have to see the source of the sound to know it was Mr. Grumps.

What you struggled for what seemed like an eternity, he took that needy arm away from your shoulders within a fraction of a second. It was almost shocking how quick he was, but then again, you knew what he was capable of.

With you safe against the counter, Logan turned to face the stranger, his face still showing that same neutral expression as before, though his eyes held an intensity that made the man flinch.

Normal people would believe he had the patience of a saint. But you weren’t a normal person. You knew this was dangerously close to making him lose it.

"Uh, Logan… maybe we should—"

But your words fell on deaf ears. The only thing that Logan could hear was the weak excuses the guy was trying to give as he tried to pull his hand from the tight grasp Logan had it in.

"Hey, man," he stuttered, his words slurring as the panic set in, "What’s your problem? Let go of me!

But Logan had no intentions of doing so. He held the stranger's arm firmly, his grip growing tighter until he could hear a small crack coming from the guy's bones.

"What's your damage, huh?" the guy continued, trying his best to keep his voice from breaking. "It's just a little fun, right, baby?"

You cringed as his eyes fell back onto you, and the pleading tone of his voice was beginning to make your skin crawl.

"Look, uh," you started, looking anywhere but his eyes, "I don't think—"

"Listen," the man continued, and your eyes fell shut. God, he was just not going to stop. "Maybe you can join us? Huh, big boy? That’s what it is, right? You want her all for yourself?"

Uh, oh.

"Logan, don’t—"

It was too late. He had already snapped, and with a grunt, he pulled the man closer to him, his other hand forming a fist around his shirt.

"Wanna say that again?" He growled. "Do it. I dare you."

The man was trembling in his grasp, but he was clearly too drunk to understand the danger he was in.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you her boyfriend?" He taunted, and the fact that he had the guts to do so while his hand was in a painful hold was astonishing, even for you. "Or are you just some guy with a crush? Cause, honestly, it's pretty pathetic. You can't even ask her out."

His words had Logan seeing red, and before you could do anything, the guy was pushed away and was about to be on the receiving end of one of the strongest punches you've ever seen.

So, riskily, to protect yourself and him from being thrown out of his favorite place, you jumped off the stool and slid in between them as he launched his punch, just stopping inches away from your face.

"Please," you said, your palms up and in front of you, as if that would do anything to stop the rage he was feeling, "Please, calm down."

"Calm down?" He repeated, his voice rising. "Are you kidding me?"

"You need to let it go," you told him. "He's drunk, Logan. He doesn't know what he's saying."

"And, what," he retorted, his anger slowly fading away, "Does it look like I give a single fuck about that?"

You sighed, your eyes meeting his, and that was enough for him to finally give in. His clenched fist dropped, and he released a frustrated sigh.

The dude behind you started laughing, his voice sounding as if he was trying to make fun of a fight scene.

"So," he chuckled, "That's it, huh? You're not gonna do shit? You’re just as pathetic as a—"

He gently moved you aside, and in an instant, the man was lying on the floor with a bloody nose, a black eye, and a few broken ribs.

You could only hold your head in your hands, knowing very well the mess you were about to have to deal with.

And it didn't take long.

As soon as Logan stepped away from the drunk idiot, security was on him, grabbing his arms and restraining him. He couldn’t care less, though, as he held a sadistic grin on his face, pleased with his work while being escorted out.

And, so, there, the two of you were on the steps of the apartment building. You, holding your hands in your lap, and he, staring up at the night sky.

The air was warm, the city lights were dim, and the sky was covered in clouds. There was an odd silence between the two of you, which wasn’t really all that odd, but the events of the night had changed the atmosphere.

"Thanks," you spoke, breaking the quiet. "For, you know, standing up for me."

"He was a douche," he stated, his voice gruff. "Someone had to send that fucktart crying home to mommy."

"You shouldn’t have done that, though," you told him. "Now, you’re probably banned from the bar. I know it's your favorite."

"Eh," he shrugged, "Booze is booze. There are plenty more places to get drunk."

You didn't respond. Instead, you focused your attention on the small bugs flying around the dim light next to the door.

"You shouldn't be thanking me, anyway," he continued, turning to you. That was new. "I should be the one thanking you."

You looked at him, your brows furrowed. This whole conversation was getting weird. "Uh, what for?" You asked, confused.

"For putting up with me," he replied, shrugging.

"Putting up with you?" You repeated, not understanding. "I don't understand."

"Y'know," he continued, his gruff voice a little less gruff. "Sticking around. Being friendly. Having… patience. I can be…I can be a real dick. Honestly, I still don't get why you keep trying."

The smile that found its way to your lips waa the most genuine one he's ever seen. Your eyes were full of kindness and understanding, and your lips, which usually held a grin or a smirk, were turned upwards in a soft, gentle smile.

"Logan," you said, your voice low. "You may be a grump, and you might not be the friendliest guy, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve kindness. Everyone deserves that… or at least a little bit of it."

He scoffed. "That's funny," he replied, turning his head away.

You furrowed your brows and cocked your head, confused. "What is?" You asked.

"I used to think," he began, "That no one would ever look at me in the way you do. Not after what I’ve done… not after what I am."

"You're a good man, Logan," you told him. "You proved who you were when you willingly helped Wade."

"Maybe," he sighed, his gaze meeting yours. "But, there's still a lot you don't know about me. I'm not exactly a knight in shining armor."

"Oh, my dear, Wolvie," you said playfully, leaning closer to him and placing your palm on his shoulder, "You never were."

[shioaoi]

Rundown of the more interesting parts from the Necrits live stream with Christian Linke (Creative Director and Co-Creator of Arcane) :

There was a longer version of the Caitvi sex scene but they got bonked by the ratings people, and because it would have raised Leagues rating to mature, it got brought down to what we got.

The entire Caitvi sex scene was directed and animated by Fortiche with zero input by Riot. Christian says, "That was French people being French."

Riot making Arcane canon didn't change where they were taking characters or the story, it just made them more aware of how it would affect other Riot projects.

Christian refused to confirm exactly when the events of Arcane take place in the existing timeline.

The Arcane doesn't originate from Hextech. It is just one - in universe - interpretation of magic.

Christian doesn't view Viktor and Jayce's love as romantic, and that romance wasn't the intention when writing their relationship. However, by the way he talks, it doesn't seem he's against people shipping them romantically - just as a creative team, they were more interested in exploring a close, complex male friendship / brotherhood.

The 250-million dollar show budget number is not accurate as marketing is included in that fund. Fortiche's goal from the beginning was to bring the level of animation found in feature animated films to serialised content. While the show was very expensive for an animated series, it was way cheaper than an animated feature film because they try and work efficiently. As an example, Christian says how often in Hollywood, it's not uncommon for sometimes 40-50% of what is animated to end up on the cutting room floor while with Fortiche they try and keep it around 5%

Ekko's hair was changed from a mohawk to dreads because the artist who worked on him told them that black hair doesn't work like that (in reference to the mohwak), and here's how it would actually work.

Legends of Runterra affected Arcane in terms of giving the team inspiration for how the everyday street life is for people in the regions.

Caitlyn's LOR Tactical design (2021) and Warwicks VGU Voicelines (2017) were made to reflect what was going to happen in Arcane - production of Arcane just took a long amount of time.

They've said from the beginning that the only person who could ever defeat Viktor at the height of his power was Viktor himself. His story is about the glorious evolution, the pursuit of that, and what it actually means to remove these human elements until there is nothing left.

All projects Riot is working on - whether the MMO, Games, Written or Animated projects - are in talks with one another at all times.

Christian comments on how very few games have remain in service as long as League has, and because of its ever growing and evolving story, it's hard to bring everything together cohesively since everything was made at different times, in different era's, by a multitude of different people. So, while many things may be very cool creatively, it makes it impossible to successfully bring it all together more often than not. So for new projects, they are more focused on making something good and successful with the team and talent they have, even if it retcons or replaces content made in the past.

Christian pitched singing Heimerdinger.

Arcane's scripts for S2 were locked in before S1 was released, so they were not impacted by fandoms or online reactions. Christian thinks maybe some animation choices were influenced by things the animators saw online, but not the story.

When watching the premier of the final arcane episodes in LA - the entire 4000 seat theatre cheered when Maddie died.

The butterfly motif shared between Jayce and Viktor specifically was used to represent transformation.

Christian talked about how they don't think about really whether people will like something or not, but whether it's the right consequence for the story (this is in discussion to Caitlyn losing an eye). What makes a character likeable to an audience in his eyes is their decisions in the story; the choices that they make.

Continuing on from this, he comments on how the choices Caitlyn makes now are so different now compared to the beginning of the show. She is now willing to take risks and sacrifice parts of herself for people, for Piltover and for what is right.

When asked about Caitlyn's signature hat, Christian says that the team saw it as somthing that didn't really fit this version of Caitlyn they were writing and the person she becomes and that's why it was never incorporated into her designs.

Back in the beginning, when they were first working on Arcane, Christian would constantly going back to Jinx and Vi's original design artists & Riot August who was their champion designer to make sure they weren't messing anything up with these characters.

Christian goes on to tell an anecdote of when Paul 'Zeronis' Kwon was drawing the first concepts for Vi. This was back when Christian was in music. She didn't have a name at the time, but when Christian looked over Paul's shoulder at the art, he comments "she kinda looks like a Violet to me." They never spoke about it, but months later, when she became a serious character concept internally, she was gifted the name Vi. To this day, Christian doesn't know if his comment resulted in her name or if it was just a coincidence, but Violet became stuck in Christian's brain as Vi's true name. Riot August (who was in chat) then confirms that her name came from her tattoo, which came from one of her key design elements, being that she had the number 6 on her face. So, just a happy coincidence.

Talking about the tattoo. The tattoo was shrunken in size so, from a distance, it would look more like a beauty mark and the brain can more easily disregard it. One of the many things that they had to think about when translating the designs over as, is animation, you would be looking at a characters face a lot more than you do in league where the camera is situated top down.

As they were wrapping up the stream, Christian talks about how there always needs to be a bit of space between what content creators / content consumers do (pointing at Necrit) and what Riot does. He thinks it's good that there is space for criticism and a critical view of the things Riot does. In order to succeed, he believes they need to listen to their audience but also that they need to have their own vision, take risks, and be bold. It's a delicate balance in his eyes, and projects tend to fail when these two sides are too in cahoots.

He iterates that they are not trying to shove anything down anyone's throats. They are just trying to find what makes these characters cool, tell their stories, and be true to the regions they come from. With taking the characters from League to Arcane, it was important that they translate these stories and characters so they can hold up with the best storytelling in the world.

This circles back to the earlier point about retconning things and replacing past stories and content. He comments on how some characters are very outdated or too archetypal, but they still have an essence that people love about them.

Arcane was something Christian worked on for 9 years, and he was getting clearly emotional near the end. He also adds they're just getting started and he wants to make sure they do a good job with this IP and the characters we really love.

To those who are not happy with certain decisions, he's sorry they didn't hit what you personally wanted, but there is simply no way they can please everybody. While they are trying to make as many of the Riot / Arcane audience happy, they as the creators and artists need to follow their own compass, be the shepherds of this IP; that being creative is hard. They will keep doing that even if they sometimes have to ruffle some feathers.

He closes the stream by confirming that they are investing quite a bit in Noxas, Ionia, and Demacia for the next regions they explore.

[rindreamery]

it's just instinct, all i want is you.

how long it takes for the blue lock men to realize you’re the one.

itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, michael kaiser, oliver aiku

it takes itoshi rin 6 months.

rin likes to think that he’s slow and deliberate with his relationships— that he’s not the type to have such decisive thoughts about someone so early on. he’s spent years building up a wall to protect his feelings, and he’s not about to let a (potentially fleeting) person ruin what he's worked so hard to maintain. he's only been with you for 6 months, and he has his doubts about whether you would want to stick around. but all it takes is, “i’m so proud of you, rin,” and his world is completely tilted off its axis.

he tries to tell himself that it's nothing; he's been complimented by other people before.

you probably didn't even think much of it when you told him. it’s just a simple phrase, one of many that people say without thinking. but it's different, it's special, when it's coming from you. your words repeat in his head, like some mantra. it's like his senses are overwhelmed by you. he finds himself focusing solely on your voice, the way you look at him with such gentle eyes, the sincerity behind your words— you. it’s scary how much it affects him. it rattles something deep inside of him, and it shakes him to his core.

he doesn't want to hear it from anyone else, he quickly realizes. those praises don't mean much when it's not coming from you. they don't make him feel unstoppable, like he’s on some high that he’ll never be able to get down from. and he's hit with a jarring realization—

“say it again,” he's standing in front of you, ignoring the incessant flashing of cameras that surrounds him and the deafening cheers of the crowd. he's only looking at you.

“i’m so proud of you,” your voice is quiet, but all he can hear is you, “rin.”

—he's fallen for you, much deeper than he thought he would. he’d be damned if he let you slip away.

it takes itoshi sae 1 year and 3 months.

sae had no intention of falling in love with you. needless to say, his affection for you wasn’t some calculated move. the thought of liking you hadn’t even crossed his mind, and he’s not even sure if he’d ever considered you as a friend. you’ve just been around for long enough that he’s stopped questioning it, that he’s grown to tolerate your presence. at least, that’s what he tells himself. he lets you come over when you want, eat all the snacks in his pantry, use his netflix account— to everyone else, you’re basically a couple. before he knows it, you’ve settled into his life the way a familiar song gets stuck in his head without him noticing.

it’s hard to deny the noticeable shift in sae’s behavior whenever he’s around you.

the way the frown on sae’s face vanishes to a more passive state whenever he’s talking to you, and he's much less irritated at the aspect of having to answer your random (but stupid, in his opinion) questions. he’s not aware, but a part of him subconsciously looks forward to it. “would you still love me if i was a worm?” comes another one of your stupid questions, and he answers without thinking.

“yeah.” the expression on his face remains the same, he’s as indifferent as he always is. but his answer takes both of you by surprise. under his cool facade, his mind is scrambling to make sense of his answer, as if he hadn’t expected himself to say such a thing.

you’re flustered, and it’s evident in the way you stumble over your words. a part of you begins to wonder if that was simply a figment of your imagination, like some hallucination from sleep deprivation. “what— huh?”

so he plays it off, he acts as if he meant to say it. “you heard what i said.” he realizes his heart had decided on you longer than he’d ever been aware of.

it takes nagi seishiro 3 months.

nagi’s used to being alone— he’s used to neglecting himself and every aspect of his life because no one is there to tell him not to do so. he’s not used to having someone be a constant in his life, to have someone who isn’t thrown off by his apathetic and lazy attitude. sometimes he wonders if he acts this way to keep people out, and he wonders why you choose to stay despite. but slowly, you color your way into his bleak routine.

at first, it’s subtle. you linger around him, but your presence isn’t demanding for his attention. you’re there, but you let him be.

and then your presence becomes something a little more prominent. he starts to notice the little post-it notes you leave in his locker, and how you remember to sneak in his favorite snacks. or how his pillows start to smell like your shampoo, and the way he becomes used to having you there in his living room as he plays video games. or even the fact that he finds himself waiting by the gate when classes end, and how he doesn’t mind being pushed around by the crowd as he searches for you in the endless sea of students so he could walk with you. so he could be with you.

he starts to feel like he’s truly living, like there’s something to look forward to every day.

when you say, “see you tomorrow,” he deflates at your words. it’s a weird feeling— he feels weird at the thought that he doesn’t like being alone anymore. that he misses you in the way he misses his phone. he feels bored without you there, and a part of him feels so empty when he doesn’t have you beside him.

when he drops you off at home that day, he realizes it feels strange to be alone again— “can you stay with me?”— he needs to be with you.

it takes michael kaiser 7 months.

kaiser lets his ego get in the way of his relationships. he thinks he can have anyone he wants, and that's why he wholeheartedly believes that he's above the idea of yearning for someone. the idea of wanting someone so much that his thoughts would be consumed by them, and only them? it’s unimaginable. he’s used to being admired, worshipped even, by others. he doesn’t need anyone— he doesn’t need you.

so the prick of irritation he feels, when he sees you laughing at another man’s jokes, catches him off-guard.

it shatters his pride, and he tries to ignore the heat that bubbles under his skin. but he can’t ignore the feeling of possessiveness that washes over him at the sight. you’ve always been his— the heated touches, the way you wear his cologne on your skin, the way you linger around him like it’s natural. you're mine, he always thinks to himself, but he never says it out loud. he’s above yearning— but the idea of you being with someone else makes him feel sick. and he’s not about to let another man take you away.

“come with me.” his voice is sharp and demanding, his mere presence filling the space with an unspoken challenge. but before you can speak, kaiser’s gripping your wrist, pulling you into him without another word of explanation. you don’t fight him, you don’t fight the excitement that it brings you. there’s something in his gaze, something so possessive and raw, that makes you follow him wordlessly. you’re mine, the thought echoes in his mind and for the first time in months, he can’t deny the feeling that has been brewing under the surface.

he yearns for you, and he’ll never let anyone strip this feeling away from him.

it takes oliver aiku 4 years and 2 months.

oliver would never deny the fact that he enjoys having you around. but you’re simply his friend— nothing less, and definitely nothing more than that. you’ve been in his life for years now, lingering in his orbit in a way that keeps you both close, but so far. you’re a constant in his life because he doesn’t need to act around you. he never needs to impress you, never needs to win you over with sugary words. you’ve never given him the typical attention he’s used to, the type of attention that he naturally demands. and that bothers him in a way he won’t admit. yet, it’s this disinterest that pulls at him like gravity. it keeps him coming back, keeps him by your side.

but he doesn’t want anything more from you— he doesn’t need it. it’s these words that keeps him from tainting you.

he doesn't like the dangerous and greedy feeling of wanting to have more of you, wanting to see you in ways that no one else has, and that dangerous feeling that makes him want to devote himself to you wholly. and that’s what gets to him. he’s used to being the one in control, the one who dictates the terms.

it's a futile attempt, he realizes. it's always been you who's had the upper hand.

he can no longer deny that he wants you, more than he’s ever wanted anyone. no one else has his heart racing ‘til he can hear his heartbeat in his ears, no one else has him hooked in the way you’ve been stringing him along. and suddenly, all those meaningless flings feel like distractions, like he’s been wasting time when what he really wants is right in front of him.

it’s not about lust, not about the chase—he just wants you. and this time, he’s not about to let fear or pride hold him back.

note. desperate and yearning hcs next??? who knows

© rindreamery, 2024

[purple-plum-petals]

Homicipher request for the Homicipher starved fans pls? 🥺 Is it okay to ask for the reactions of Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped(as he gets wheeled past us on a cart after being kidnapped, again), Mr. Gap, Mr. Machete, and Mr. Scarletella with a reader who winks and blows a kiss as they pass by them? Like for some reason reader seems to be in a really good mood and they're skipping around with their trusty crowbar in hand then they see one of the boys then mwa~💋. I can imagine that they'd be confused at the unfamiliar gesture but I'd like to get your thoughts on it. 😂

⊱ Homicipher Characters’ Reactions to MC Winking at Them and Blowing Them a Kiss ⊰ || Multiple Character Headcanons

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮

Character(s): Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped, Mr. Gap, Mr. Machete, and Mr. Scarletella (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (MC’s Lore), Brief Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (Mr. Machete’s Part), Canon-typical Horror Elements (Mr. Gap and Mr. Scarletella's Parts), Cultural Barriers (None of Them Understand the Gesture). Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Platonic or Romantic Relationship Word Count: ~1,880 Request: “Homicipher request for the Homicipher starved fans pls? 🥺 Is it okay to ask for the reactions of Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped(as he gets wheeled past us on a cart after being kidnapped, again), Mr. Gap, Mr. Machete, and Mr. Scarletella with a reader who winks and blows a kiss as they pass by them? Like for some reason reader seems to be in a really good mood and they're skipping around with their trusty crowbar in hand then they see one of the boys then mwa~💋. I can imagine that they'd be confused at the unfamiliar gesture but I'd like to get your thoughts on it. 😂” Author’s Note: They all would definitely be confused by the unfamiliar gesture, so I kind of did headcanons about how each of them would react to you blowing them a kiss/how they would go about trying to understand what the gesture meant by using context clues (or just straight-up asking you about it haha). Sorry if they’re not great! I’m still trying to figure out how I want to balance the characters’ personalities as they are in canon while adding some more fun/whimsical aspects of your ask.

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

💉: He smiles softly at your cheerful demeanor, yet it falters slightly when you press the tips of your fingers to your lips and squeeze one of your eyes shut in response to him looking in your direction. You remove your fingers from your pursed lips and blow out a puff of air before continuing in the direction you had been walking towards. While he could infer you were in a good mood by your body language, he was curious to know what exactly the gesture meant. 

💉: Instead of lightly treading the question or observing you for any longer to see if he could figure out what the gesture meant by using context clues, Mr. Silvair instead just asks you directly to get an answer as soon as possible the next time he sees you. He deeply enjoyed research and observation, yes, but there was no need to wait to gather information when you were a perfect source of it. 

💉: Of course, it wasn’t easy to explain what “blowing a kiss” was, especially since they didn’t even have equivalent words in their language for “blow” or “kiss,” but you tried your best with what you had to work with. It’s almost funny how earnestly Mr. Silvair is hanging onto every word you speak. He chuckles after you finish explaining, amused by the gesture and its meaning – how quaint, he thinks to himself. 

💉: He found humans to be fascinating and their diverse cultures even more so, so he was of course interested in learning whatever you were able to recall from your previous life in your old realm before you ended up in this one. He treats everything you tell him with an air of respect, and he even documents what you share with him so he (and you) never forget that part of yourself. 

💉: Mr. Silvair finds the gesture to be an entertaining one, but deducts that it’s not usually one humans do with strangers or those they are not comfortable with from your explanation. Does that mean you are comfortable enough around him to express yourself in that manner? How fascinating... Do you care to tell him why you feel the way you do toward him? He’s very much interested in learning the reasoning behind your thought processes. 

🗣️: Mr. Chopped smiles so widely when he sees you in such a chipper mood, making your way down the hall with a noticeable spring in your step. He likes seeing you happy, so it makes him feel good, too, watching you skip by with such a bright expression on your face! Then, you press your hand to your lips and wink, blowing something he couldn’t see in his direction, and suddenly he’s confused. 

🗣️: Huh… well, that was strange. For some reason, though, the playful gesture seemed almost familiar, yet he couldn’t remember why. He can’t exactly chase after you and ask what that meant, so he’d have to wait until the next time he saw you (which he hoped wouldn't be a long wait – he liked spending time with you). 

🗣️: The next time he saw you, he asked if you could explain what the gesture meant. You did the best you could, but you’re pretty sure he comprehended what you were telling him if the giddy expression on his face was anything to go by. His excitement was quite adorable. However, his expression suddenly falls, and you watch him begin to sulk. How was he supposed to blow you a kiss in return? He didn’t have a body!! The poor man is so distraught. 

🗣️: He gets either Mr. Silvair to help him out or Mr. Hand to, well… give him a hand to enact his plan. The next time you see him, he calls out to you with such a delighted look on his face. So, you make your way over to him and kneel down to his level, watching as the sentient hand comes up to Mr. Chopped’s lips, making the same gesture you did, before he blows you a kiss and winks. He did it! He blew you a kiss!! 

🗣️: Mr. Chopped is very proud of himself and the pleased expression on his face is far too charming for you. He feels a warmth in his metaphorical chest knowing that you felt comfortable enough with him to blow him a kiss, especially since it seems like something humans do with those they are most comfortable with. 

🕳️: He’s honestly somewhat impressed you knew he was there, observing you through the small hole in the wall while you walk around like you’re on top of the world. He can’t help but wonder what happened that has you so chipper, but his thoughts are derailed a bit when you press your hand to your mouth and blow something at him, closing one of your eyes as you do so… What the hell was that?? 

🕳️: He feels somewhat offended, honestly, and gets that semi-disgusted look on his face before disappearing into the darkness. Mr. Gap understands it’s some kind of weird human gesture, but he can’t really put two-and-two together about what it means. Though, he finds himself continuing to watch you from any nook-and-cranny he could find, observing you to see if you would do the gesture again – you don’t.

🕳️: Mr. Gap ends up startling you while you’re walking down a long, grimy hallway, his hand darting out from a vent to grab your ankle. His grip isn’t tight, but it most certainly scares the life out of you and effectively catches your attention. He finds your scare amusing but ends up cutting straight to the point and asks you why you blew something at him. 

🕳️: Even after explaining what the gesture meant, Mr. Gap still doesn’t fully understand why you did it, so you just tell him it was supposed to be a nice gesture that showed you enjoyed him – playful. That is something he does understand, and it’s almost amusing how the smirk on his face grew. He must be special, he thinks, and his smugness is radiating from his face peeking out of the darkness. 

🕳️: Mr. Gap doesn’t do the gesture back, but he strangely enough finds himself hoping you don’t blow anyone else your kisses. He doesn’t know why the thought of you sharing the gesture with another annoys him a little bit – after all, it wouldn’t make it special anymore if you did it with everyone. He even begins bringing you things, like more crowbars or even pieces of candy he finds lying around. It’s almost like he’s trying to bribe you…

🔪: He sees you happily skipping around and finds himself having to do a double-take at the strange sight. It wasn’t a bad sight, not at all, it was just weird seeing you so bright and lively. However, his mind buffers a bit when you look at him, pursing your lips and giving him a wink before your fingertips press to your mouth and then flick towards him. 

🔪: Mr. Machete is immediately annoyed, not knowing what the gesture meant, and he assumes you were trying to pick a fight with him. So, he takes his large sword and reels it back, throwing it at you with a strength that still had your eyes boggling. You duck with a yelp as the sword implants itself into the wall behind you. 

🔪: He makes his way over to you with incredible speed, blocking your body between his and the wall as he looks down at you, his head tilted to the side as he asks you if you wanted to fight him. Mr. Machete finds your frustrated expression endearing as you tell him the gesture was meant to be playful and fun. He’s low-key kind of disappointed you didn’t want to fight, but he steps away from you after your explanation without another word. 

🔪: However, while looking down at your angry expression, Mr. Machete suddenly has the urge to squeeze you (I imagine he experiences cuteness aggression regarding you). So, he reaches down and squeezes your cheeks between his large and calloused hand, causing your lips to purse. Even though you hadn’t been in the mood to fight him, now you were. He smirks widely as you two begin to spar all because he misconstrued what your gesture meant. 

🔪: Mr. Machete doesn’t see the point of blowing kisses, and he doesn’t feel any particular way about the gesture. It’s kind of whatever for him, even though he does notice that you don’t seem to do it with anyone else. After the first time (that ended up leading to a spar), though, he notices you hadn’t blown him another kiss since… He ends up coming up to tell you in his gruff, almost rude way, that he wouldn’t mind if you did it again. 

🩸: He tilts his head to the side at the gesture, his shaggy red hair swaying with the movement. Well… that was new, he thinks. He liked you quite a bit (far more than just a bit, really… my man is kind of obsessed with you), and he had been following you throughout your entire journey in this realm, yet he had never once seen that expression or gesture from you before. Now, he was curious to know what it meant, and he was going to try and figure it out one way or another.  

🩸: He continues to keep his eye on you, following you as you go about your day. Mr. Scarletella likes seeing you so chipper and full of life, especially considering you were someone who tended to take life from others. The dichotomy between your behavior and actions had his heart racing. However, despite what he expected, you never did the gesture again. So, he couldn’t gather information by observing you – he would need to simply ask you directly, then. 

🩸: Mr. Scarletella effectively manages to corner you after some time, catching you completely off-guard. While you two had certainly started off on the wrong foot, you had gotten to the point where you were relatively calm and comfortable around the strange man who was so incredibly down bad for you. He gazes down at you with his lifeless eyes, inquiring about the gesture you made earlier. 

🩸: You explain to him what the gesture meant for you, that you were simply in a good mood and felt a little bit playful at the moment when you blew him a kiss. Mr. Scarletella smiles at your words, feeling very pleased with the information. So, it meant you liked him, correct? It meant you felt comfortable enough to express your happiness towards him in such a way, right?

🩸: Well, you inadvertently ended up making him even more obsessed with you, and now his feelings become even stronger every time you blow him a kiss. Mr. Scarletella finds the act an interesting way to express your interest and enjoyment of another being, so he begins to blow you his own kisses in return. He is one of the characters I feel would want to learn more about human customs to deepen his relationship with you even if he doesn’t fully grasp why some gestures mean certain things. 

[rafesangelita]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ breaking the one rule he was always supposed to follow, rafe found himself sitting in the shadows of the gentlemen’s club where bitchy!pogue!reader worked at. imagine your surprise when you find out the person that paid for a private dance with you is your brother’s best friend.. and business partner.

warnings: dealer!rafe, stripper!reader, brother’s best friend trope, mentions of you and barry arguing, sexual tension, flirty banter, making out, heavy petting

a/n: this is what bitchy!pogue!reader is wearing in this btw.. i watched anora and worked on this right after lol

wc: 1.1k

rafe knew it was wrong the second he got in his truck and drove down to ‘pink sugar’ to see if you were there. he knew it was wrong when he walked in and scanned the room for you, and he knew it was wrong when he took a corner seat furthest from the stage. after overhearing you and barry arguing about what you did for work, rafe couldn’t help himself from seeing what was making you come home with a duffle bag full of cash. his curiosity got the best of him, and when he saw you emerge from behind the curtains, pink lace lingerie hugging the curves of your body, the cutest pair of bunny ears adorning your head, with a little bunny tail on your g-string to match, all the guilt he once felt melted away into nothing.

you were sin with legs. rafe watched you smile at the men in the front, the group of them emptying their wallets when you hadn’t even did anything to make them shower you with cash. then again, rafe felt the urge himself to give you all of his money just because you were so pretty. rafe swallowed thickly when your song started and the lights went low, everyone’s attention zeroing in on you as you lowered yourself to the glossy floor of the stage. he watched you crawl to the center, arching your back as the rhinestones around your eyes sparkled under the club lighting. one of the men reached out, poking the little ball that was your bunny tail, slipping what looked like a hundred dollar bill in the string of your bottoms.

rafe hated the way the men in here were looking at you right now, his fists clenching at his sides as he imagined what kind of thoughts were currently running through their heads. “that’s it, baby!” a drunken holler was shouted, the rest of the club following suit and bursting into a fit of cheers when you managed to spin around the pole in the middle of the stage. rafe watched in awe, deciding he needed to get you to himself, and away from the hungry stares of the crowded club. making his way over to the bouncers that stood outside of a concealed hallway, he handed both of them a few crispy bills. “get the one on stage with me and i’ll double it.” without another word, both of the security guards moved aside, letting rafe through.

you finished the rest of your set, blowing kisses to the men who made it a mission of theirs to spoil you rotten tonight before you made your way to the locker rooms where you refreshed your hair and makeup. “y/n?” nancy, the owner’s right hand woman walked in, “i have a private dance for a younger gentleman in room five.. he requested you specifically.” you smiled at her through the reflection of the mirror. “okay, i’ll be right over.” you nodded, giving yourself one more glance before making your way down the dimly lit hallway. the first private dance of the night always made you a little anxious, but at least you knew you were guaranteed a hundred dollars that you didn’t have to share.

you took a breath, twisting the door knob open before going in, shutting the door closed right after. “i must be special if you chose me..” you placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, walking around him before standing between his legs. looking down, you felt your heart drop to your stomach when he looked up, the face all too familiar to you. “yeah, you are.” you gasped, retreating your hand from him as if he burned you. “what the fuck do you think you’re doing, rafe?!” you nearly lost your footing when you stepped back, suddenly feeling exposed as his eyes trailed down your body. “what? i’m just a paying customer.” he shrugged, tossing back the drink in his hand.

“oh, yeah? tell that to barry. he’ll kill you if he finds out you were here.” you scoffed, your eyes meeting his. rafe stared at you for a moment, motioning for you to get closer to him. you swallowed thickly, the small disco ball in the room illuminating his features. “i’m not gonna do anything to you, i just wanted you away from everyone out there.” he spoke lowly. you took a step, accepting the hand he held out for you before he guided you onto his lap. you wrapped an arm around his shoulders like it was second nature, his large palm running up and down your thigh. “sooo.. you think you’re doing me a favor by pulling me back here so no one else can watch me dance?” your face was just mere inches away from rafe’s.

“i’m losing out on a lot of money, ‘country club..” you whispered, the slow music playing softly in the background. “how much do you want. throw me whatever number you’d like.” you smiled, your fingers slipping underneath the hem of his polo. “two thousand,” you spoke, “with interest.” rafe laughed, nodding his head as he trailed his hand from your thigh to your hip, adjusting the strap of your g-string against your skin. “with interest, huh?” he smirked, eyes falling down to your lips, “..i’d happily give that to you.” you leaned in first, just wanting to feel his lips on yours. rafe stilled for a second, a groan rumbling from his chest when he pulled you closer by your neck, returning your kiss tenfold.

“is barry home?” he was breathless when he pulled away, his hands roaming your body as if he wanted to take you right then and there. at the mention of your brother, reality seemed to grip its claws into you when you realized what you were doing right now. rafe saw the look of confliction pass over your face, his fingers cupping your chin to avert your attention back onto him. “hey..” he whispered, “i won’t tell if you don’t.” his words echoed in your head, his cologne and his proximity overtaking your senses. as if you two were meeting on the same page, rafe watched as your eyes grew dark, a smile gracing your lips. “i don’t kiss and tell, rafe.” as if a flip switched, you two began ravaging each other once more.

time slowed when you two moaned into each other’s mouths, grappling onto one another as if the two of you would disappear if you let go. “barry’s gone for the night.” you managed to speak between kisses, rafe nodding as he cupped you through your bra. just as he was going to tell you to leave with him, the bouncer outside the door yelled that rafe’s thirty minutes were up. “what the fuck, already?” he glanced down at his watch. you sighed, letting rafe pick you up before he kissed you one more time. “get your shit and let’s go, i’ll be waiting at the front door.” he squeezed the globes of your ass, making you gasp as he walked out. and just like that, rafe never let you step foot in that club again.