#but this is a beloved headcanon despite the crack

[teafiend]

Oh, But She Loves, Sweet and Right and Merciful

(Title taken from the lyrics to “Cherry Wine”, by Hozier)

Summary: Conversations on the edge of the night.

“How did you even manage to remain a priest for so many years?”

She blurted out as she came down from her high, breathing uneven, his lips still lingering between her breasts. He loved the spicy scent he tasted on her skin; briny, musky and an essencendefinably Kang Gil Young.

His tongue peeked out from between the prison of his teeth, licking at a tiny bead of sweat. “Hmm... because I didn’t know any better, and haven’t yet fallen in love with you,” he whispered, nibbling on her lower lip before dipping in for a full kiss.

He thoroughly enjoyed the blissed out physical ecstasy of his orgasms, but what he truly craved was the intimacy and connection after their lovemaking.

Those windows of naked moments when they were more open with each other, with less emotional barriers and physical distance in between.

It had been a continuous struggle.

While the both of them - and especially Gil Young - was always frank and open with their feelings, especially when it came to their pasts, it had been particularly difficult for him simply to take off the armour he had built up all these years.

Only the fact that he was faced with the one woman whom he owed everything to, his life included, which pushed him beyond what he was comfortable sharing under normal circumstances.

With her, every word was a confession. She was a living, breathing confessional box. He knew he had been granted forgiveness because she had told him he had done nothing wrong. It was not his fault. None of theirs.

What did it matter that he was still taking his own sweet time in forgiving himself? As long as he knew Kang Gil Young and the Lord did, he would arrive at grace at his own pace.

The Lord did not mind, and even if she would occasionally grouse, he knew she did not, either.

He sat up, leaned against the wall, and pulled her up with him, letting her sit astride him. She rested her cheek against his, arms loose around his waist. He tucked the blanket tightly around them.

“You know why. It’s the reason we are here, together. It was the right thing to do until you. Only path opened to me then,” he replied somberly, though he knew that was not what she was referring to.

“Was it difficult? Looking at you now, I can’t believe you managed to stay celibate all those years,” she queried, genuinely curious.

They had never really spoken about this, though her initial question was a farcical joke more than anything.

Their pasts were iron shackles which bound them together. The act of padding the sharp edges with silk and cotton did nothing to lessen the harsh interwoven weight it bore on them.

However, just the reality of having her beside him to share his burdens with made the struggles more bearable. The stain would always be an inescapable and indelible mark on their psyche and lives, but the lightened load was still a blessing.

“While certainly more bothersome when I was younger, it was nothing too vexing. It was also a part of our training and practice. Furthermore, I had other more pressing issues to focus on,” he explained, rhythmically stroking up and down her back, the action meditative and soothing.

“It helped that I had never felt anything for anyone. I was too emotionally closed off, and had no intention of remedying that lack. Until you, I was content with the way things were,” he added, a note of pensiveness in his voice.

“You were not running around having relationships with anyone all these years, either. And you were not required to live a celibate life,” he quipped at her, a small smile on his lips. “Now look at you, jumping me left and right. How did you cope before?” he teasingly shot back at her, attempting to add a dash of levity to their conversation.

She rolled her eyes at him playfully but conceded to his points, “You are not wrong, but I settled my own sexual needs when I had them. You couldn’t do that, right?”

“Well... I admit to breaking the rules now and then. It’s not uncommon for the clergy. We work at being celibate, it doesn’t come naturally for many of us. That said, it had never been a major issue for me, personally. It became a conundrum only after I fell in love with you,” he replied ruefully.

“I sleep better after making love with you,” he admitted, embarrassment clear across his features.

Her arms around him tightened imperceptibly, “Me too.”

They let those words sink into their hearts, silent except for their composed, synchronized breathing.

“I love your hair. I was surprised you kept it so long. I hope you will always keep it loose when we are alone. I feel privileged to be the one to see it,” he murmured, curling a few lustrous strands around his fingers.

She looked so incredibly lovely with her hair down, he could not help but entangle his hand into the sleek threads each and every time, marveling at its silkiness.

The many ways it transformed her from a tough and courageous detective into a highly desirable woman just by being unbound had always been a wonder to him. Not to mention how easily the image heated his blood.

He felt as if magic was weaved in every strand. It was an extremely old-fashioned sentiment, and he had thought it improper to put into words out loud. Until now.

While he had always thought of her as beautiful, he could not deny that with her hair down, Gil Young was a different creature, a siren who laced temptation into his very soul.

“It’s my concession to traditional femininity, I suppose,” she admitted, somewhat bashfully. It took his breath away, this hidden side to her. He wished to be the one to nurture and protect it, for once. Just as she was his guardian angel.

“Gil Young-ya, thank you for being you, for accepting me into your life,” he murmured reverently into her hair before tilting her chin up for a meeting of lips, tender and ardent.

*** *** ***

“Yoon-ah, is this what an ordinary life feels like?”

He seldom heard her with such vulnerability laced through her words. His heart ached at the grief in her tremulous voice, a loss he felt all too keenly himself.

“Hwa Pyeong said he wanted to lead an ordinary life after Park Il Do. Sometimes, I wonder whether I am attempting to do that on his behalf,” she rested her forehead against his, eyes closed.

“Were you in love with Hwa Pyeong-sshi?” he could not help but put into words his own insecurity.

She started and stared at him, seeming to search his expression for something, “No. We were annoyingly teased about it, though. It was not something which crossed my mind given the circumstances. But after, who knows. If he had survived, perhaps.” She choked slightly on the tears she did not let flow.

Yoon brushed his thumb softly against her cheek, catching the stray tears on his skin.

“You have to admit the chances of me ending up with Hwa Pyeong was higher than the thought of you and me,” she rationalized, blunt and to-the-point.

He did realise that, and it was akin to having a thorn lodged in his heart and mind, the implications of his own thoughts.

She held his face gently, not allowing him to avert his eyes as she pressed on, “But that’s the past. Both of you are my dearest friends, the only ones I have. Now, I only have you, and we are family, Yoon-ya. Whether or not we make love, you are first and foremost family.”

The scar on her palm, a physical reminder of that night, scorched his skin where it was held against his cheek.

Her scar had always reminded him of the stigmata, a symbol for the bearer of unimaginable burdens.

“For all we know, you might have been the one who ended up with him?” she teased, though with her normal sobriety, and he was pulled up short by those words.

He mulled over her words, pondering on whether any such potential might have existed, though given his background, a complete no should have been his first reaction.

He came to the conclusion that yes, his heart was full of love for Yoon Hwa Pyeong-sshi too, running deeper than they could fathom. Still, he could not say that the love extended to sexual or romantic interest.

“I don’t know. All I can say is that you are the one I am in love with. All I will ever want or need,” he declared softly.

She nodded minutely at his answer, a small, beatific smile on her lips. She kept her silence, simply burrowing into him more closely.

“You can be sweet at times, Choi Yoon. I love you too,” she whispered against his bare skin.

He took Gil Young’s right hand in his and kissed the raised scar. He knew she - they - had been lucky. The damage could have been more severe than it had ended up being. Even then, the use of her right hand was no longer quite the same.

Just like them, trying in their broken, jagged ways to build a life together. To find meanings to the tragedies which had scarred their lives.

He never could have imagined that this frank conversation between them would come back to haunt him in a few months time, bringing with it an understanding of what they needed to come to terms with.

The Lord had answered his fervent prayers that moonlit night in the sea. Their friend was saved, and survived.

[gothy-froggy]

Astarion Headcanons

Fluff dating headcanons

This man deserves it. Astarion x Gn! Reader

(Bg3 Astarion spoilers?) + not proofread

As we know that Astarion is not used to this kind of treatment or care. For 200 years he used his body to lure people for his master. And was treated poorly on top of that. This is something he isn’t used to.

Small physical touch

A simple squeeze of the arm, putting a hand over his, Astarion craves for it.

They’re so simple, yet, holds so much meaning.

Such pure and innocent intentions behind them. Intimate, not sexually. Just so much emotion and such a strong connection from a simple touch.

He likes it.

Even a simple, quick or a lingering kiss is just so nice. Astarion has kissed, slept, and held many, but not like this. It’s quite exciting.

The feeling of his beloved’s finger softly running through his hair got a sigh of content out of Astarion. His eyes fluttered closed. The way the their fingers goes through his curls, barely scratching his scalp. It was peaceful.

This was peaceful.

“Star.” They whispered. Astarion opened his eyes. He sat up from laying on their lap, facing his partner. A shaky breath aired out as his eyes shut as they placed their hands on his cheeks, brushing along his jawline. No words were exchanged. None had to.

Their feelings, thoughts, and love for each other were so loud despite not one opened one’s mouth.

No words could describe how much they cared for another.

Astarion grew to return such acts with the intention and his feelings being present. It was difficult at first. It was…odd for him. It was either awkward in his mind, or the spiral to disgust and the feeling of tainted leaking through the cracks of his heart and mind, perhaps his soul at well.

But the reassurance from his lover always pulled him back.

Nicknames

The nickname given to him? Star. It was definitely a shock to him hearing that as his nickname. He can’t help but be a little flustered.

He loves it. Astarion would live for it. Astarion loved it even more once he figured out the reason why his lover calls him Star.

Of course, he calls his dear, love, treasure, other sweet pet names, but the one his love gave him doesn’t seem to be defeated.

The night was chilling as the stars twinkled, dancing in the moonlight. Astarion sat on a big rock with his lover. Their gaze focused on the balls of light in the dark sky. Astarion’s was locked onto them.

“Do tell, my dear. Why ‘Star’ as my nickname?” He would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. Their eyes meets his, a small, gentle smile appearing on their face.

“Your name has star in it. A-s-t-a-r-i-o-n. Stars twinkle, they’re beautiful , like you.” Astarion let out a huff. Perhaps a small scoff.

“Well, I am beautiful.” A charming smile plastered over his face. His lover laughed, placing a hand over his as they leaned forward.

“You’re my star.” They whispered, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. Astarion paused, processing their words and the simple touches.

“You really are full of surprises.” Astarion whispered.

‘Their Star.’ He thought. It brought swirls of warmth inside his chest

Astarion’s love for the pet name Star becomes addictive. He gets slightly annoyed and disappointed when his partner doesn’t call him Star.

Hell, his treasure could even make him beg to be called Star if they wanted to.

It honestly irritates him how much he enjoys the silly little pet name. They really don’t hold much value or worth anything…or is that him and enslavement to Casador for centuries?

Nether the less, his love is here to show him what real is. What true love really is.

Perhaps the pet name is a spark of light for him.

His comfort (lover’s scent and warmth)

Nothing is more precious than holding someone with such passion. True passion.

Astarion struggled most on this. Surprising as it is, but the comfort involves holding someone. Being so close to their body with trust, letting your guard down,

But getting comfortable with having comfort is the most troublesome.

The fear of it being taken away becomes dread.

His nightmares are over, but they still plague his mind, making it hard to break through and open up. After a while, he did. He regrets not being able to break through before.

Whether it was a nightmare, or the utter crave of affection and his comfort, he always gets it. Astarion creeps into the tent, sliding an arm under his love’s, wrapped around their waist and pulling them close.

He presses his face into their neck, taking a slow and small sniff. Just smelling their scent, not just their blood, brought so much warmth and comfort. The warmth, the feeling of their body made all his stress move away. Astarion smiled to himself, pressing a lingering kiss on his lover’s shoulder, before whispering:

“Wherever you go, wherever you are..” Astarion paused, hesitant to continue as the fear and feeling of disgust creeps back in. Trying to pull him back to what he knows. Yet he fights it. The arm around their waist caused a small squeeze as he took a shaky breath before continuing.

“Is forever my home.” He whispered, forcing them out and choking over his words out.

“You are my true home.”

Maybe, just maybe, the fight for something new is worth it.

[mothmanssweetsucculentass]

ZZZ Headcanons

Help this game has taken over my free time I love these characters sm <3 Billy Soukaku and Ellen my beloved

Nicole: has a not so secret hobby of bedazzling anything and everything. It’s a real problem in the Cunning Hares apartment, nothing is safe from pink rhinestones and stickers

Anby: cracked at rhythm games to an alarming degree. Can do a 2 person extremely hard DDR song all by herself

Billy: I don’t know how they did it but they programmed an android with autism. Has his own version of a skincare routine which is basically just maintenance on all of his tiny mechanical parts. Can also gain power multiple ways, including solar power. The apartment complex where the Cunning Hares live had a blackout once and everyone used Billy as a personal charging port. Nicole promised to pay him in Starlight Knight merch.

Nekomata: cuts her own hair and offers to do it for other people. DO NOT trust her when she says she’s good at it

Grace: did gymnastics as a kid which is why she’s able to pull off a ton of backflips and flexible maneuvers in battle

Anton: uses actual cement to keep his hair spikes in shape. Koleda caught him in the act once and instead of chewing him out, she decided to apply some to her own hair and now they’re cement combover gang

Ben: is completely vegan and loves chilling at hot springs a lot. Still sleeps with stuffed animals btw

Koleda: I’m making it canon right now Koleda is trans and you can’t do shit about it. Also has welding as a hobby and made most of her accessories from scratch

Corin: when not in Victoria Housekeeping Co uniform, is a Jfashion junkie. I’m talking super dedicated Lolita fits, menhera inspired clothing, the whole shebang. She ofc designs a lot of her own stuff like her bear backpack and is also responsible for a lot of the accessories Victoria Housekeeping Co wears (Rina’s bows, Ellen’s shark jaw head and neckpieces, Lycaon’s eyepatch and tail straps). She also has a massive crush on Ellen and is too scared to admit it

Rina: has a fur allergy and can’t keep animals around. Which also means she’s allergic to Lycaon. She has to take so much Zyrtec before clocking in but has such a good poker face that Lycaon has no idea. Ellen knows tho

Lycaon: specifically wears the heeled boots and has his odd posture because he’s self conscious about his digitigrade legs, he thinks they’re unsightly for a butler of his standing to have. He also tries to encourage Ellen to wear a long maid dress like Rina does to hide her tail.

Ellen: coincidentally falls into a lot of shark stereotypes. She loves seafood, has to constantly be fidgeting or she feels like she’ll go mad, and the kicker, she gets frenzied around blood, or if the thing she’s fighting puts up a struggle. Corin accidentally cut her hand while repairing her saw blade once and both Lycaon and Rina could barely hold Ellen back once Corin began bleeding. Ellen feels awful for scaring the already timid girl. Corin secretly thought it was hot and would die on the spot if anyone knew that

Soukaku: despite being a huge foodie this girl cannot cook for shit. Is also physically cold to the touch and during the summer her coworkers will ask her to hold their drinks because they’ll stay cold. Soukaku always secretly sneaks sips every time they do this to her.

Miyabi: has the worst sleep schedule known to man. Sometimes you’ll find her awake at 3AM and conked out by 4PM, other times she goes to bed at 8PM and wakes up at 4AM. It’s inconsistent and irregular and a gamble trying to contact her outside of work because she might not even be awake

Harumasa: GAY GAY HOMOSEXUAL GAY. Also pretty cracked at chess and other strategy games. Is also a major old fashioned guy and doesn’t own a lot of modern technology. He’s not into retro or old stuff, he just doesn’t like new stuff

Yanagi: her glasses are fake. When she was younger she needed them, but her vision had naturally gotten better over the years, so she now wears contacts, but for some reason still insists on wearing her glasses. Loses them constantly during battle.

Lucy: even though she was forced to play piano as a kid, she really wanted to be a sporty girl and play stuff like soccer and baseball. Now she has the freedom to take part in the sports she likes and watch them surrounded by the people she likes

Piper: insanely picky eater to the point it drives Lucy up a wall. Is also picky about a lot of other things, like how different fabrics feel, different comfort levels of chairs and beds, girl is a complainer and will always find something to complain about

Lighter: has a side gig as a tattoo artist, has really stable hands too

Soldier 11: has 5 younger brothers, a younger sister, and 2 older siblings who she doesn’t see super often. Has divorced parents who also liked to adopt, which is why she has such a huge family. Her younger brothers love it when she comes home and plays secret agent military with them

Seth: can’t drive. That’s it send tweet.

Qingyi: is outwardly dismissive of meditation tricks and hacks and tips but utilizes that shit in private ALL the time.

Zhu Yuan: shares the vegetables she grows in her garden with all her neighbors. Is also a REALLY good cook to the point people have encouraged her to potentially consider a different career path

Jane Doe: the rat girl has pet rats go figure. But in all seriousness she’d die for her little guys. She has a white one named Cocaine and a brown one named Tobacco and a gray one named Crystal Meth. She thinks the names are hilarious and every time she introduces the rats to other people their facial expressions are priceless

[cherryrainn]

cuddle headcanons with our beloved cole cassidy, hanzo shimada, and junkrat!

OKAYYYYY IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— cuddle chronicles

cuddle headcanons with cassidy, hanzo and junkrat.

COLE CASSIDY ♡

when cuddling with cassidy, you'd find yourself enveloped in his strong arms, feeling his warmth and the sense of security he exudes.

he might pull you closer, as if shielding you from the world, his calm presence making you feel safe.

cassidy can be quite playful with those he's close to. while cuddling, he might crack a joke or make a lighthearted remark, his signature cowboy charm shining through.

his calloused fingers would trace patterns on your back, their roughness contrasting with his gentle touch. it's as if he's silently reassuring you that he's there.

cassidy's occasional cocky attitude might manifest even during cuddle time. he might smirk and playfully boast about how he's 'the best cuddler in the west', all while squeezing you closer to him.

he might rest his chin on top of your head, his beard tickling your forehead.

just like he treats his weapons with care, cassidy treats you with gentleness and respect during cuddles.

cassidy might tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. his scarred eye holds a softness that's reserved only for you, and in that moment, you feel truly cherished.

tough cowboy on the outside, softie on the inside.

"you know you're stuck with me now, right?"

HANZO SHIMADA ♡

hanzo's serious and introspective nature might extend to cuddling as well.

he's not one to initiate cuddles readily, but when he does, it's a significant gesture.

his cuddles are filled with warmth and security, a quiet way of showing how much he cares for you.

due to his reserved personality, hanzo prefers cuddling in more private settings. whether it's a quiet evening at home or a serene spot outdoors, he feels most at ease when it's just the two of you.

hanzo's strong arms provide a sense of protection as he holds you close. you can feel his muscles tense and relax as he adjusts his hold, making sure you're as comfortable as possible.

his touch is gentle yet firm, reflecting his disciplined nature.

hanzo's company is soothing, even if he doesn't say much. often, his cuddles are accompanied by a comfortable silence. the two of you might watch the sunset or simply listen to the sounds of nature, the silence speaking volumes about your connection.

hanzo's preference might be to lay down together, side by side. he'll often pull you close, your head resting on his chest, and he'll wrap his arm around you. feeling the steady beat of his heart and his rhythmic breathing can be incredibly calming.

hanzo might unconsciously run his fingers through your hair as you cuddle, a soothing and comforting gesture.

"thank you for being the unexpected light in my life."

JUNKRAT ♡

junkrat's not the typical cuddler, but he has his moments. cuddling with him might involve a tangle of limbs and explosions-themed plushies strewn about. he might grumble about it being too sappy, but his mischievous glint betrays his enjoyment.

despite his wild exterior, junkrat gives surprisingly warm hugs. he might not admit it, but his tight grip and genuine smile show he values physical closeness.

he'd create a cozy corner in his hideout for cuddling. piled high with pillows and blankets, it's an explosion-free zone where you both can unwind.

for all his bluster, junkrat can be surprisingly cautious with his touches. he'd hover his hand over your shoulder before committing to the cuddle, almost as if he's not sure how you'll react.

he'd absentmindedly play with your hair, fascinated by its texture and colors. his fingers are deft, his touch gentle despite his typically explosive nature.

junkrat's cuddles are accompanied by his distinctive laughter, which often manages to light up the room even more than his explosive devices.

while cuddling, he might tell you silly stories.

if he's awake during the night, he'd keep watch over you while you sleep. his protective side shows as he softly brushes his fingers across your cheek.

every now and then, you catch him in quieter moments of introspection, and he pulls you in for a cuddle that's surprisingly tender.

"don't think i've gone all mushy on ya now."

[iaure]

𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁; 𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟthe dearest collection - part one/beloved 𓆩♡𓆪 part two/prized 𓆩♡𓆪 part three/devoted 𓆩♡𓆪 part four/desperate 𓆩♡𓆪 part five/blind 𓆩♡𓆪 part six/watcher 𓆩♡𓆪 part seven/ardor 𓆩♡𓆪 part eight/fervor this is very heavily inspired by @//clusterfuck-yandere's yandere leon headcanons; please check out their works. this is something of a love letter to their puppy obsession series.

yandere leon s. kennedy headcanons; reader is a survivor of raccoon city. tw: general yandere/obsessive behaviour, ptsd, survivor's guilt, cyberstalking, mentions of suicide (though not the actual act of it)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ i intend for this to be multiple parts, as it's already become quite long before there was any real yandere behaviour. updating may be scattered due to work.

you met him in the aftermath.

♡ there was an online support group for survivors, and after you barely escaped with your life, you needed all the help you could get.

♡ most of the members were nice enough. there was a lot of comforting, a lot of 'it's not your fault' and a lot of just trying to cheer each other up.

♡ there was one member in particular that always, always responded to your posts and comments.

♡ the user didn't have an account; you always simply chalked it up to them being technologically illiterate, or maybe they were simply forgetful.

♡ perhaps that was a bit naïve; if they could always remember your posts, who were they to forget having an account?

♡ but that didn't matter. they always signed off the same way-with a single initial, K.

♡ maybe it was a bit sappy. but having someone in your corner felt nice, after everything.

♡ ultimately, they were harmless and sweet, so having them around in your little slice of the internet was fine. ♡ they always worked double-time to cheer you up.

maybe K was a bit jealous. ♡ when you would speak with other group members, K would like your responses.

♡ sometimes, though, they'd pitch in; ignoring the other user entirely and simply talking with you as though you were the one who started the conversation.

♡ you tried to ignore it. other members on the forum didn't say anything, so you assumed it wasn't too strange.

but then they started to become more intimate. ♡ they would bring up small things that felt too strange to be a coincidence.

♡ they'd recommend you relax by watching that show you just started, or snacking on some of your favourite food, or taking a nap because it 'seemed' you were working to hard.

♡ they were personal enough to make your stomach churn, but it was not enough that you weren't able to reason it away.

♡ they were still so sugary sweet as well, and despite the unnerving nature of their kindness, the support meant everything.

♡ in a forum where everyone is upset and needing help at once, having someone that focused on you was nice.

♡ because at the end of the day, when you went into your bed, there always felt like something was wrong.

♡ the room was too small. you thought of what you did in the city, what you didn't, who you didn't save and who you damned.

♡ the sheets were too warm. your window had a shadow over it. the closet, was it cracked open? did something move around when you weren't looking?

♡ part of you knew in your heart of hearts that it was simply Raccoon City scaring you like a ghost. because if it wasn't, then what was haunting you?

you needed to get out. so, you got a job.

♡ at first, it was hell on earth. just leaving your home was hard enough; but going outside for upwards of eight hours was horrifying.

♡ your manager and coworker, however, were kind. they knew what you had gone through, and didn't rush you. the regulars were sweet, giving short words of encouragement.

♡ maybe this wasn't so bad.

♡ courtesy of the little bakery you worked at now, you were fed. you were getting paid. you began getting more sunshine, cleaning up more, feeling more accomplished.

♡ you started to stop posting.

♡ you had other things to focus on, now. you were considering getting a pet; so you had to save up money.

♡ but after a week and a half of not going on the forum at all, you decide to make an update.

K had made an account.

♡ oh, they had made one; they had made it to send hundreds upon hundreds of pleas into your messages.

♡ 'please, you mean so much', they begged. 'talk to me!', they wept.

♡ maybe they assumed you had offed yourself. it was possible.

♡ you took a second to look through all of them, feeling warm at first. K was sweet and kind and so soft, apparently.

♡ but with every message, they seemed to take one inch closer to strange, to creepy, to outright alarming.

♡ "please don't do anything rash!"

♡ "you don't know how much you mean to me!"

♡ "i know it's hard, but hang on for me!"

♡ "i need to know you're okay!"

♡ "whatever it is, i can help, please just let me in"

♡ "is it that job? it's the job, right? they're working you to death"

♡ "please just respond!"

♡ the horror seemed to grow with every message, up until one from just an hour or two ago;

"i just love you too much, i think" ♡ something isn't right.

♡ ...

♡ maybe it's time that you blocked K.

♡ you blocked their account, knowing it probably wouldn't do much. if they knew about your job, then what else did they know about?

♡ but you didn't hear much after that. there was a day or two where you were scared to even go to work, but that's alright.

you have a new regular.

♡ he's very sweet, almost achingly so; whenever he came into the bakery, he seemed equal parts nervous and bashful. he always tipped exceedingly well, and his order usually was some sort of new health option the owner was trying out.

♡ he wasn't just nice, though; he was pretty as well. he had a cute chin and his hair seemed always soft, and he spoke offhand about how he liked to work out because of his job.

♡ He was always happy to talk, but knew to leave if there was a line and didn't stay any longer than he was wanted.

♡ you didn't even know his name for a good month; but he often took liberty dropping yours.

♡ when you asked how he knew, he had a bright flush on his face before admitting that he had asked your coworker.

♡ how sweet!

♡ you found his name was Leon S. Kennedy, who was self-dubbed as "rookie cop extraordinaire".

♡ he began to clearly go out of his way to come into the bakery, sometimes coming in after clear workouts with a gym bag over his shoulder and a tank top on. was visiting a bakery after a workout counterintuitive?

♡ absolutely.

♡ but you don't mind. it's nice, seeing a cute face coming into work. and it always feels like he's doing it just for you. quite the special creature you are!

♡ he held a constant enthusiasm to talk to you, and it's enough to make your heart ache.

♡ the kicker comes when, offhand, he mentions Raccoon City; how he had gone to the police department for his first day and ended up saving a woman and a young girl from the apocalypse.

♡ instantly, your heartstrings are pulled because oh god. someone who understands. someone who did more than you could, has done more.

♡ you finally begin to get closer to him of your own accord. once or twice, you've even hinted at being single.

♡ each time you did, Leon would freeze; big blue eyes staring right at you with a pink flush that would anyone crumble. he even shook a little, like a small dog, and each time you'd have to laugh.

♡ it snaps him back to reality, and the conversation carries on.

but things are quiet on the eastern front.

♡ you haven't heard much from K since you blocked them. it's only natural, considering the steps taking. but sometimes, you wonder if K is still watching, what K really knew.

♡ maybe they were just an excellent guesser.

♡ but they've since gone silent. account or no, they're not saying anything anymore, and there's some semblance of peace.

♡ but you're still uneasy. something is still wrong.

♡ ...

♡ was your bed always this warm when you wake up?

[jeoseungsaja]

They're indeed fortunate because we all know Lee Hyuk is ready to fight and throw hands if someone messes with Myungdae/Patrick no matter the timeline IUWHEIDUHWUEHD

Hyuk: (whilst holding Myungdae's head gently and caressing some strands of hair) YAH, what do you think you two are doing, huh? I'll roundhouse kick you if you keep bothering him, don't test me, I'll do it---

taiquinn ( @uroborosymphony & @velvetineblue ) are lucky that they are bullying him b4 he reunites with hyuk ( @jeoseungsaja ) bc once hyurick is back together- this will be happening:

myungdae: *sulks, buries head in crook of hyuk's neck and points at taiquinn* they're being mean, make them go away 😞

[crimson-kisses]

Hi hello good evening!! I have been lurking about for quite some time and i honestly love your writing!!

If it's not too much, could you give us a crumb of yandere romano?? 👀 some general headcanons or whatever you're in the mood for??

Have a lovely day!!

Piccolo regalo

Characters/Fandoms/Pairings: Yandere! Lovino Vargas || Romano [Hetalia] x Fem!reader

Warning: This story will contain xplicit yandere themes, proceed with caution [includes non consensual acts, toxic relationship, the like]

Author's notes: Lovino has definitely been in my mind lately, so have this little snippet I wrote up in a hurry. This was inspired by this piece by @yanderehetaliadrabbles 🌻🐝~~~♡

Also, remember that lot has been going around the world lately, try to educate yourself and contribute as much as you can.

The kitchen was infused with the enticing aroma of sizzling eggplant as you carefully fried the golden slices in a pan, observing as they reached the perfect balance of tenderness and crispiness.

On any other day, you would have joyfully taken a few bites, turned on the radio to sway to some tunes, and effortlessly navigated the kitchen to gather ingredients and clean up. However, today, sombre thoughts preoccupied your mind, leaving you focused solely on the task at hand.

A slight frown took on your lips as you adjusted the ribbon, holding back your hair. Yeah, you weren't really in the mood for swaying around and being carefree.

An almost alarming smell caught your attention as you instinctively set the fried eggplant slices aside on a plate lined with paper towels to drain. Slightly burnt but not too much to be concerned about.

Mistakes happen, and nothing is too perfect. It was the bitter truth, and one you accepted as you continued with the preparation of the dish.

Nothing is too perfect. Mistakes were human. You almost vividly recalled the countless times you'd watched your nonna prepare this beloved dish. She seemed to be so perfectly superior in her skills, but you remember her laughing about her own mistakes in her childhood when it was your time to take on the kitchen.

People weren't perfect, and no matter how superior or skilled they seemed, they were bound to slip up. That was being human. Humans weren't perfect, and neither were relationships.

Wiping your hands on your apron, you turned your attention to the tomato sauce, a crucial component that would add depth and richness to the dish. You tried not to think, think, and think. But you were always such a feisty smart ass for your own good.

Perhaps that extended to everything else as well. Ah, were you so blindsided by love that you couldn't see the signs any sooner? The cracks in your lover until it was too late? Maybe it was because he seemed so perfect. Someone who could love you despite the edges you had and cherish all your faults. He was too perfect to be human.

Trying to suppress the shaking of your hand, you sautéed onions and garlic in a seperate pot until translucent, then added canned tomatoes, letting the mixture simmer and thicken to perfection.

But he wasn't even human, and neither was he perfect. Nothing can be too perfect for everyone.

You tightened the apron around your waist, opening the curtains wider, allowing a strong beam of sunlight to flood the kitchen. The golden rays illuminated the room, casting a warm glow on the countertops and appliances. Outside, the gentle rustling of olive trees could be heard and seen, their branches heavy with ripe olives ready for harvest.

To Romano though, you were perfect. Too perfect maybe, your confident suave nature resonated well with him, balancing his fiery intense attitude. Mostly what pulled you both together though was pure passion for things you both loved. Both of you were so supportive and protective of each other, even embracing the faults.

With the eggplant fried and the tomato sauce ready, it was time to assemble the layers. You reached for a baking dish and spooned a layer of the tomato sauce onto the bottom, spreading it evenly to coat the surface.

You still loved him, despite all his issues, insecurities, and stubbornness. Your sly antics countered his flirty attempts, coolly challenging him and keeping him on his toes. The tango you initiated with him was a dance of passion and tension, French kisses after deep arguments were common, a way to your love amidst the conflicts. To you, he was perfect, but maybe that love still wasn't enough for him.

Next came a layer of the fried eggplant slices, their golden-brown hue a testament to their perfect crispiness. You sprinkled a generous amount of grated Parmesan cheese over the eggplant, the sharpness of the cheese promising to balance the sweetness of the tomatoes.

Your thoughts raced as you continued with the cooking. Memories of family gatherings, moments with your nonna, and times with friends seemed distant, almost as if they belonged to another lifetime. Ever since you were told, forced to stay in this secluded house in the Southern countryside, those memories felt even more remote.

The layering process continued, each addition of eggplant, tomato sauce, and cheese building upon the last, creating a beautiful and delicious mosaic of flavors and textures. You added the final layer of tomato sauce and mozzarella cheese to your favorite traditional dish.

The setting was undeniably idyllic, the kind that would make your mamma gush over its charm, and your zie would nod approvingly, pleased that you had finally settled down. Despite its beauty, you couldn't shake off the feeling of complete isolation, the sense of being disconnected from the world you once knew.

With the assembled dish in the oven, the kitchen filled with the comforting aroma of baked cheese and tomatoes. As you waited, your thoughts drifted once again to Lovino. He was the kind of man who would eat anything if you made it. Not that you would not threaten to poison his food if he didn't learn to appreciate what you cooked.

Nonetheless, you prepared some Caponata as a side dish knowing that's what Lovino preferred. Perhaps the sweet and sour taste resonated well with his personality.

You snorted in amusement. Asshole.

Setting the dining table, you poured some homemade Limoncello into a chilled glass. Placing it on a tray, you carefully set it on the dining table, beside the plated Caponata. Moments later, you retrieved the fragrant Melanzane alla Parmigiana from the oven, its baked cheese and tomato aroma filling the kitchen.

With oven mitts protecting your hands, you placed the hot dish on a trivet and proudly set it on the table, completing the meal for you and Lovino.

Placing your hands on your waist, you apprehensively glanced at the clock. He had said he would be coming home early today during the phone call, and judging by his tone, you assumed his mood was sour. Lately, this had become quite common, and it always made you tense when he seemed to be brimming with anger. The anticipation of his arrival weighed on you, adding an underlying tension to the otherwise peaceful atmosphere in the house.

There was a reason, you were trapped in the house he had bought for the both of you. Could you escape? Quite easily, but only physically for a short amount of time. Being a family woman, with close ties with other people, it put everything and everyone you loved at a dangerous risk.

You loved too deep, too passionately, too traditionally, and that love of yours kept you in shackles. That love which Lovino was possessive of. Lovino would easily find you, and he had already proved that your family and friends would pay the price if you stepped out of line. Heavily, and you couldn't bear that.

After all, how could you escape the grasps of a man who had been here for centuries? He knew every nook and corner, had legal and illegal ties which would be fatal.

The door opens with a thud, causing you to rise on your toes in startlement. You see your lover stumble in, clearly heavily intoxicated. His unsteady gait and slurred speech confirm your suspicions. Soon after, the sound of a car starting up can be heard, gradually fading as it drives away from the house, leaving behind an uneasy silence.

You wished you were in that car, far away from this isolated place. Perhaps, you could ask Lovino to take you out, once he is stable enough of course.

Nonetheless, pulling up your dress slightly to hasten your steps, you briskly walk towards him in concern. Your hands instinctively reach out to steady the stumbling man as he gives you a lopsided smirk, his eyes glazed and unfocused.

Lovino places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to his intoxicated form. His shirt is disheveled, and you tug on it to help balance him properly, feeling the warmth of his breath and the weight of his body leaning against you.

Both of you stumble awkwardly after hastily closing the door. Before you can react further, Lovino pushes you up against the counter, causing your breath to hitch in surprise. You give him a level-headed stare, trying to convey your concern and irritation. However, he places a finger on your lips as you attempt to speak, effectively silencing you and adding to the tension between you two.

"Lovi, this—" your tone biting, you gesture sharply with your hands, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt, "is enough. Dinner is ready, and you are beyond drunk." Your eyes dart around, searching his face for answers.

All you find is overflowing love and a sense of lust swimming around his eyes. "Where have you been? Didn't you have some work today?" You finish with a sigh, placing a hand on his arm, furrowing your brows in concern.

God, you cared for this man so deeply. How could you not? You doubted you could ever stop caring for him, but sometimes you just didn't know what to do with him.

A flinch escapes you when you feel his fingers trace your jawline, skimming through the strands of your hair. His touch lingers for a moment, a slight frown forming on his lips. You wondered what was he thinking of.

"What's the matter, darling? Didn't you miss me, huh?" he mumbles incoherently, the furrows between his brows deepening along with his frown.

His eyes narrow as he bends closer to your neck, taking in your scent slowly. His hands, initially tentative, find their place around your shoulders, gripping slightly as he breathes deeply for a moment. He seems to be seeking comfort, trying to find solace in your presence.

But you can't seem to give him that, something in you doesn't know where to even start. Your fingers start to grip his shoulders as you let out a shudder, your lips almost ghost over his, hesitant and unsure.

"Mio amore, you have no idea how much I wanted to be with you today," Lovino starts, his voice carrying a hint of weariness. He grimaces disdainfully as he recalls his day, "After such a long day with a room full of idiotic bastards."

You couldn't help but grow more concerned, but chose to remain silent about it. As Lovino, had never liked you defending them, even if it was fair enough, given his attitude. There was always some drama at his workplace, especially regarding his personal relationships.

Pausing for a moment, he takes a deep breath, his eyes softening as they meet yours. "All the time, I was thinking of you," he confesses, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face.

His hands, with an urgency you haven't felt in a while, snake around your waist with firm grip, drawing you irresistibly close to him. "Tesoro," he murmurs softly, the term of endearment rolling off his tongue, filled with affection. The weight of his desire is palpable, and you find yourself pressed tightly against his chest.

He breathes heavily, his warm breath brushing against your skin as he leans down, capturing your lips with an intensity that leaves you breathless. "Amore mio," he whispers against your lips, his voice husky with emotion. The world seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this passionate moment.

A startled noise escapes you, surprised by the suddenness and strength of his grip. As he deepens the kiss, his arms tighten around you, lifting you slightly off your feet. "Bella," he murmurs, pulling you even closer, the intensity of his emotions leaving you breathless. You could taste the alcohol on his lips.

"Wait, dinner is--", you start to say, your voice trailing off as Lovino emits an annoyed grunt. He pulls back slightly, his eyes narrowing as they lock onto yours, covered in a haze.

His hands grip yours, which remain on his chest, bringing them to his lips. He messily pecks every inch of your delicate skin, affectionately raw.

"Dinner can wait, I cannot," he declares firmly, his voice laced with urgency and unmistakable desire. The atmosphere between you two thickens, the dim light casts soft shadows on his face, highlighting the longing in his eyes. His fingers gently trace your jawline, a silent plea for you to stay in this intimate moment just a little longer.

He had always been drawn to your argumentative nature; he liked his women confident, assertive, yet elegant and romantic. The intoxicating affection between you was often mixed with passionate disputes and petty fights. That was just how he liked it. He wanted to see you angry with him, and then to have you care for him, let him take care of you, picking up the pieces both of you had scarred and kiss it right.

But now. He didn't have the patience for that, he had always been selfish, possessive when it came to you. He needed your love, a reminder marked onto his skin.

He needed to feel your unwavering love, even with all his flaws, trusting that you wouldn't forsake him, like everyone else always had, just as he would never dream of leaving you behind. He sought to drown his insecurities in the depths of your love and trust. By loving you, he hoped to discover his worth and find a place of significance in your heart. He wanted to be everything you would ever need. To be enough.

And never be cast aside once again.

Lovino needed you. Right at this moment, dinner left at the table to be eaten later right after both of you have devoured each other and Lovino had forgotten the outside world.

Instead, curses erupted from his lips as a kick was aimed at his shin, causing him to stumble back from the force of your push. He hissed and gripped the place where you had hit him, rubbing it and breathing harshly through gritted teeth. You took the opportunity to slip past him, your steps hurried and uneven as you moved toward the staircase.

For a moment, he stood there, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath, the anger in his eyes simmering just below the surface. But it didn’t take him long to regain his momentum. His gaze followed you, and his expression darkened as he saw you with your back pressed against the wall near the staircase, your eyes peering at him through your lashes—a look filled with defiance and a hint of fear.

It made his chest ache, a sharp pang that twisted deep within him. You weren't supposed to look at him like that. You were supposed to be different. His lady. His treasure. His will to live. And yet, here you were, pushing him away when he needed you most. His frustration grew, an unspoken plea in his eyes, silently begging you to come back, to understand.

For a moment, he went blank, his hazy stare fixed on your disheveled form. Your hair was tousled, a wild halo framing your flushed face, a blush creeping across your skin. Even in your attempt at a glare, there was something undeniably alluring about you—the way your chest rose and fell with each breath, the fire in your eyes still burning. He found himself lost in the sight, his thoughts wandering back to the bar he had just left.

The memories were blurred, clouded by the haze of alcohol, but one thing was certain: he had been thinking of you the entire time. He thought of the faces around him, of meaningless conversations and laughter that left him hollow. None of it mattered, not when the only thing he wanted was to be here, with you, where every emotion, every moment felt real and raw.

But there was more to it, always more. The familiar feeling of being lost crept in, like a dark shadow lurking in the corner of his mind. He felt empty, hollow, as if his own sense of self was slipping away. Insecurity crawled under his skin, a sickly sensation, and tension coiled around his veins like barbed wire, cutting deeper with every thought. Fear gripped him—a fear that seemed to grow stronger every day. Fear of losing himself, of losing you.

He was terrified, the idea of being abandoned haunting him like a specter. Today, Antonio had managed to piss him off more than usual. The bastard had somehow found out about your existence. His former mentor, acting as if he had the right to give advice. But all Lovino felt was cold anger simmering in his veins, a rage he could barely contain. No one should know about you. No one had the right. What if someone tried to steal you away? What if he lost you because he wasn’t good enough?

The thought tormented him. Antonio could easily sweep you away with his charm. Francis could woo you with his words, his elegance. Even Gilbert, with his reckless charm and sharp wit, could draw you away. The fear felt like a hand tightening around his throat, suffocating him with the sheer terror of losing you. You, his only solace, his anchor in a world that always seemed to be against him. Forgot him.

You were his rose, prickled with thorns but ever blooming and vibrant. No other person could ever compare to the way you made him feel. Unlike the others, you didn’t irritate him or make him feel small; you didn’t belittle him with words or make him feel unimportant, discardable. With you, he felt seen, understood, cherished.

You were the one who didn't mock his insecurities or laugh at his temper. Instead, you stood by him, firm but gentle, seeing past his rough edges to the man beneath. With you, he could breathe, truly breathe, without the constant fear of being judged or cast aside. Every smile you gave him was a balm to his soul, every touch a reassurance that he wasn't alone, that he was worth something more.

But now, those very thoughts—the ones that lifted him from his darkest moments—were twisting into knots of doubt and fear. The possibility of losing you was tearing at him, the mere idea of it ripping open old wounds that never seemed to heal. And that thought, the cold reality of it, terrified him more than anything else in the world.

Because he wasn’t—and never would be—enough. For anyone. He was filled with faults, weighed down by his mistakes, and always fell short. Never just enough, always the second choice. Always.

That gnawing fear haunted him, creeping into the corners of his mind like a shadow that wouldn't dissipate. It told him he wasn't worth loving, that he could never hold on to anything good, that even you—his precious rose—would eventually see through him and slip away. The fear clawed at his insides, twisting his heart with every breath he took.

His hands clenched into fists, his jaw set tight as he fought against the growing panic. He couldn't lose you, not when you were the only one who made him feel alive, who made the world seem a little less empty. Not when you were the only person who saw something in him worth saving.

“Lovino—” you began, your voice wavering as you pressed yourself further against the wall, your hands searching for something—anything—to steady your trembling form. His name escaped your lips like a fragile whisper.

He took a step forward, unsteady but determined. His gaze never wavered from you, eyes dark with frustration, longing, and something more—something deeper and more unsettling. His breath was ragged, the scent of alcohol lingering in the air as he closed the distance between you, each step causing your heartbeat to quicken, your chest tightening with fear and something else you couldn’t quite place.

"Don't... don't come any closer," you managed to choke out, but your words seemed to fall on deaf ears as he continued, his stare locking you in place, making you feel both trapped and exposed.

He gives off an unsettling grin, mostly lopsided, as he inches even closer. "What's the matter, bella? Don’t I make you feel so good?" His voice is low and mocking, dripping with a twisted sort of affection. Sultry, enough to make you melt.

Heat rushes to your cheeks at the memories his words conjure, flashes of nights filled with soft murmurs and tangled sheets, moments when his touch was all-consuming and left you breathless. Lovino knew how to please his women. But now, that same touch feels different—possessive and heavy, like a storm cloud hanging overhead.

Fear still rests cold and lumpy in your stomach, winding tighter with each of his steps. You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure, but the grin on his face only widens, sensing the effect he has on you. His eyes trail over your flushed skin, every flicker of emotion you can’t hide.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as his hand presses firmly beside your head, trapping you against the wall. His eyes are locked on yours, watching every flicker of emotion like a predator stalking its prey. As you try to inch away, he matches your movement, trailing you step for step, making escape up the stairs impossible.

His other hand slowly moves to the hem of your dress near your neck, fingers brushing the fabric with an infuriating slowness, savouring each nervous gulp and the way your thighs shift uneasily He seems to drink in your reaction, his grin widening with every twitch and squirm. There’s a knowing look in his eyes, one that seems to say he understands you more than you understand yourself. Your expressions are open to him, revealing every thought, every emotion like a movie playing out just for his viewing.

Soon enough, you gasp as his hands curl around your thighs, lifting you slightly, pressing his body firmly between them. His lips trail along your neck, planting fervent kisses, each one more desperate than the last. Your head tilts back instinctively, exposing the soft skin to his hungry mouth. Soft, vulnerable moans escape your lips, betraying the conflicted feelings simmering within you, while your hands find his shoulders, gripping tightly as if to anchor yourself amidst the whirlwind of sensations.

"Tell me, mia cara," he murmurs, voice thick with need, his breath hot against your skin, "tell me how good I make you feel." His words are almost a growl, laced with a desperate need to settle down his hunger.

"Lovi— I can't ri—" you begin, but your words are abruptly cut off as a sharp cry escapes your lips. Lovino bites down on the exposed skin of your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to send a jolt through your body. A low groan rumbles from his chest as he pulls back slightly, his breaths heavy, and his hand creeps toward the neckline of your dress, fingers tracing along the fabric with a deliberate slowness. His face inches back, frustration evident in the furrow of his brows.

"Why… why aren't you wearing the dress I gave you, huh?" he mutters, his voice tinged with irritation, his eyes searching yours for an answer. His hand tightens its grip on your waist as he leans in to kiss you, but you turn your head to the side, denying him.

A flicker of hurt flashes across his face, quickly replaced by a deeper frown. "Che diavolo, why won't you look at me?" His voice trembles with a mix of anger and insecurity, his hands trembling slightly as they hover near your cheek, longing to pull you back in, to have you only for himself.

You can't.

You feel him pull away, only to grab your hands again, a rough grip as he drags you up the stairs, His grip tightens around your wrist, knuckles white, dragging you up the winding stairs, each step echoing like the drumbeat of your heart as you stumble, half-carried, half-pulled into the darkness of the bedroom.

Your heart pounds in your chest, a storm of conflicting emotions. You love him — desperately, hopelessly — but you can't.

You can't keep on giving, not when he's already taken so much from you, threatening to consume your very soul with his burning need for love, for your love. How much more could you give? How much until you weren't enough for him anymore?

He yanks you into the bedroom, his movements hurried, almost frantic, as he begins to tug at the fabric of your dress. His eyes are wild, his lips twisted into a scowl. "You know... I never liked that damn cousin of yours," he mutters darkly, voice dripping with disdain. "The color doesn’t even suit your beauty."

You flinch at the venom in his tone, your glare meeting his. "It was given with love, Lovi," you retort, voice firmer than you feel. "He’s like a brother to me."

The word "brother" seems to pierce him like a knife. You see his expression darken, his jaw clenching tightly. You know he despises that word, especially after the disastrous encounter you had with his own brother, holding nothing but a deep-seated disdain for him. His grip tightens on the fabric of your dress, and you can feel the anger radiating from him, a hot, intense wave that seems to make the room feel smaller, the air heavier.

Lovino's breath is ragged as he looms over you, his hand curling around your waist possessively. "Don’t speak of him," he hisses, eyes narrowing into slits. "He won't love you like I do. No one does. And I won’t let anyone think they can even think of you that way."

Confusion grips you as Lovino's slurred words tumble out, his meaning obscured by the fog of alcohol. What is he talking about?The realization hits you suddenly — he’s drunk, and his mind is weaving together unrelated memories. it's clear he's thinking of his brother or that former mentor you've never even met.

He starts tugging at your dress, his movements frantic and almost clumsy. The fabric slips from your shoulders, pooling around your feet. A flash of panic surges through you — your heart pounds as you instinctively cross your arms over your chest, trying to cover yourself. But Lovino’s hands are quick, his fingers hot against your skin as they grip your waist, yanking you back toward him.

“Non farlo,” he growls, voice taut with frustration. “Don’t. I’m just trying to love you... Why do you keep pulling away?” There’s a raw edge to his tone, a strain that makes you shiver. His grip tightens on your sides, and you feel trapped by his intensity, his overwhelming need.

You try to back away, but your knees give out, and you stumble to the floor. The carpet cushions your fall, but Lovino is already there, closing in with a feverish look in his eyes. His breath fans against your face, and you see the desperation — a wild, almost feral determination that makes your stomach clench in fear. His presence feels suffocating, his gaze locked onto you as if you’re the only thing keeping him sane.

"Mi sei mancata così tanto," he whispers, a slight tremor in his voice, his fingers digging into your skin like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. "Every minute I'm away from you, I feel like I'm losing my mind." His hands move, fingers tracing the thin straps of your bra. You flinch, trying to twist away, but he catches your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Guardami,” he orders, his voice thick with emotion. “Look at me, amore mio. Why won’t you just let me love you? Why do you keep running away?” His lips are close, so close, and you can feel his breath against your skin, warm and insistent.

Your chest tightens with anxiety. You feel tears sting at the corners of your eyes, your mind a whirl of conflicted emotions. You should push him away, should scream or shove him back — but your body is frozen, caught in the intensity of his desire, the raw, unfiltered need in his eyes.

Lovino’s fingers are trembling, tugging at your bra with an urgency that feels like it might break you. “Why can’t you see that no one will love you like I do?” he mutters, his voice cracking. “Nessuno... not Antonio, not Francis. No one.”

He surges forward, capturing your lips with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs, his kiss rough and demanding. His body presses against yours, almost crushing, as if he’s trying to merge with you, to ensure you can never escape.

You gasp against his mouth, your hands bracing against his chest, and for a moment, all you feel is the racing of his heart against your palm, the heavy beat of it matching your own. His hands are everywhere, pulling at you, holding you close, and there's a desperate edge to his touch, a frantic, aching need that makes your head spin.

And beneath him, you feel the weight of his obsession, his unrelenting desire. You're left trembling, torn between the instinct to fight and the growing realization that nothing will make him let go.

Your back arches as his knee presses against your core, forcing a soft, broken whimper from your lips, "Lovi~" The sound slips out despite the creeping dread that tightens like a vice around your ribs. You feel his pleased hum vibrate against your skin, resonating deep in your bones.

His grip tightens on your neck, and he gasps, a low, needy growl, "Sì, say my name again, bella, please... Tell me how good I make you feel."

Tears spill down your cheeks, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric as if it could save you from the intensity of his gaze. You can’t meet his eyes — those dark, wild eyes where hunger and desperation mix, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every ragged breath. You remain silent, unwilling to feed the fever burning in his chest. His hands move, cupping your breasts with a possessive tenderness, as if holding the fragile pieces of your heart, ready to tear them from your chest and devour them, bit by agonizing bit, until he’s full — or until you’re emptied.

You would give and give and give... because even now, a twisted, agonizing love still clings to your heart, beating for him.

His fingers fumble with the buckle of his belt, urgency trembling in his movements as he presses himself further between your legs, trapping you beneath the weight of his need. "Oh, mia farfalla," he murmurs, a dark promise coating his words, "I’m going to make your wings flutter tonight."

He would take and take and take, driven by the insatiable hunger he couldn’t stifle, the self-loathing he couldn’t escape. His breath hitches, and his eyes bore into yours with a maddening obsession.

"No other man could ever be perfect for you. You are too perfect to belong to anyone else."

And maybe, just maybe, when your chest has been carved open, your ribs stretched to their breaking point, and your heart ruthlessly torn apart and devoured, when every piece of you has been laid bare and consumed, maybe then,

Perhaps, in that moment of ultimate surrender, you might finally be perfectly enough for your precious amore— your Lovino.

When you open your eyes with a flutter, it feels as if the events of last night were nothing more than a fleeting dream. Yet, the ache in your body betrays the truth. You find yourself dressed in a satin yellow nightgown, your hair brushed and your skin clean — all clearly the work of Lovino's careful hands.

Groggy and disoriented, you stumble down the stairs. The house may be vast, but thankfully, Lovino's impatience meant the bedroom was close to the main areas. He couldn’t wait for you to be within arm’s reach.

In the kitchen, you see Lovino meticulously reheating last night's dinner and adding a touch of his own culinary flair. His back is turned to you, but you sense his awareness in the subtle, deliberate movements of his hands.

“Did I hurt you?” His voice cuts through the silence, thick with an unexpected vulnerability that catches you off guard. You watch him for a moment, your fingers absently running through your hair, trying to steady yourself.

"No, amore mio," you whisper, your voice steady, but your chest tightens with each word. You see the flicker of doubt in his eyes, the hesitation, and you know he can sense the lie—he always does. Yet, you keep repeating it, hoping maybe this time, it will be true.

You gaze out the window, observing how summer's golden warmth will soon yield to the crisp embrace of autumn. As the leaves fall and the world prepares for winter's silent stillness, the cycle of seasons will continue its eternal dance, ever turning, ever renewing.

Perfectly.

[to-mah-to27]

Ummmmm so this might be a crack ship but...

Teruhashi x Arisu?

Ok but hear me out. I love Arisu's design and character. She's really cute in her own way and she fits an archetype that I've always been fond of, even if she's only in like, two episodes.

And I've also been long a fan of the lesbian Teruhashi headcanon. Even if it has very very little basis in the canon material?? I just like the idea of it, cause she's great and she's always using men and how they react as a tool for herself but she's never been interested in any of them? Thing is, every wlw Teruhashi ship i've seen, I only like it for this headcanon and nothing else.

But TeruAri...?

That's so cute??

Teruhashi is this goddess who is beloved by everyone she meets and receives their worship to such a degree that she is completely desensitized to it, and Arisu is the creepy, socially awkward girl in the back of the class who is shy and makes people uncomfortable.

At first, Arisu is jealous of her, and she makes a voodoo doll of Teruhashi. She never uses it, but keeps it just in case because she thinks Teruhashi might start bullying her because she's popular, and that's the experience Arisu has with popular kids. But one day Teruhashi stops a group of other students harassing Arisu just because she happens to be nearby and she is a perfect pretty girl who solves every problem effortlessly and gracefully.

And Arisu is so moved that Teruhashi's actions were such a contrast to what she'd thought, that when she goes home and sees the doll sitting with all the others, she starts taking care of it instead.

And Teruhashi has no idea, but she starts getting better sleep, feeling clean and refreshed, feeling taken care of, and she starts to just notice Arisu all the time.

And she falls in love with Arisu's beauty, which is so different than hers, it's hard to even compare the two. Because Teruhashi is the very definition of beauty, so the idea that someone who is such a stark contrast to her should be by definition ugly, right? But it is Arisu's lack of everything Teruhashi sees in herself that draws her to the occultest. Because despite that objective truth, Arisu -is- beautiful. She is beautiful for being all the things Teruhashi is not.

And despite herself, she begins going after Arisu, who can't begin to comprehend Teruhashi's attention that she doesn't know how to react at all because Teruhashi is -Teruhashi Kokomi- and Arisu is just... the creepy ghost girl.

Have they ever interacted in canon once? No. Is that going to stop me? Absolutely not.

And so herein are my ships for saiki k that make everyone gay:

kubosai, aiyume, teruari

[nerd-haitham]

vampire bf!Alhaitham headcanons

tw: blood consumption (not fatal), mentions of menstruation, dom!Alhaitham, sub!fem reader, manhandling, aftercare, some fluff - minors dni.

scribe's note: yay i exist!

taglist: @aliceu @suave-ayato

©nerd-haitham, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.

vampires are scary, okay? they just ARE

which makes alhaitham even scarier

but not to you - he's still your beloved (not so) feeble scholar, whether he has blooshot eyes and elongated fangs and the whole vampire starter kit

your boyfriend on the other hand, seems to be enjoying it a lot more than he's supposed to

meaning he gets to sleep in during the mornings and go to the Akademiya during night time when there's little to no people left and get a day's workload done in a few hours

which means he gets to go home before the crack of dawn and get some cuddle time with you before you have to get up

he still enjoys humane food, especially coffee

blood is....well, an addition to his palate

nsfw under the cut!

despite looking stoic, alhaitham actually very open and comfortable with you and his vampiric characteristics

his favorite past time is when you play with his sharp canines, as you slowly drag your fingerstips over his pearly whites, occasionally teasing him by putting your thumb on his tongue

he's no better than you though - judging from the way he looks at you when he wraps his lips around your digit to suck on it

a very successful way to make him horny

speaking of vampires

they also have supernatural physical strength

which means he can mandhandle you in the speed of light

and have his way with you aka bully his cock when he has you pinned on the nearest surface

you have to beg him to bite you right before your climax hits bcs he doesn't want to hurt you

but you're squeezing him so tight and your pussy is so warm around him that he can't help but give in and bite down on your shoulder, letting his aphrodisiac venom seepinto your body, instantly making you cum

he cums right after, the sweet taste of your blood sending him into overdrive, eyes flashing bright red during his own orgasm

he's extremely meticulous and careful with the aftercare and makes sure the spot on your shoulder is closed up and cleaned up

he's not God's strongest soldier during your periods. HE'S NOT IT.

your hormones and the scent of your blood test his patience on a daily basis and he REALLY has to hold himself from losing control, despite being a man with lots of self control

but on the other hand, he knows you're having it way worse than him and he doesn't really have it in his heart to leave you alone

he just grits his teeth (hehe) and bears through it (a perfect streak so far)

[pineappleciders]

Could we get headcanons for how would it be being Team Craig beloved adopted child? Like- idk- reader is this sweet kid who wants everyone to be happy and then Craig and Those guys are like- the protective parents while Clyde is reader's adorkable big brother 😱

craig and those guys adopting a sweet reader who acts like their kid/little sibling; platonic headcanons

includes: craig, clyde, tolkien, jimmy, and tweek

A/N: i know tweek technically isn't apart of catg, but since he often is in fanon i decided to add him!! people r always debating whether jimmy or tweek is in craigs gang but why not both!!!!!!

personally i see tweek as the butters of catg. like he's there sometimes but not all the time ykwim

whenever craig and tweek get into a dispute it's like watching your parents argue

despite you being the same age as tolkien, your parents often leave you with him as your babysitter (your parents love him to death) and you two always end up playing games and eating snacks

they're kind of. confused about you. like craig might treat you like butters at first but gets berated by the rest for it once they all realized ur actually cool and not stuck-up

jimmy ruffles your hair and treats you like you're his little sibling, and goes 'oooooo' and asks constant questions if you have a crush on someone

if you're shorter than tweek he leans on your shoulder or head, because he knows it pisses you off. then he giggles deviously about it

craig is kind of. always trying to get your evil side out. like he's completely convinced you're not 100% angel and he tries to annoy you to get you to get angry

u and clyde hang out a lot. like you're always at each other's houses, people at school started to actually think you two were related

lots of video game nights. you all come to someones house (usually tolkiens because he's loaded) and play video games on the couch and in his room all night long. also lots of sleepovers

i feel like when ur choosing teams for a sport or a game, some of them are begging for you on their team and some of them are begging that you aren't on their team

jimmy, tolkien, and clyde want u on their team. craig does not. he doesn't because he thinks u suck (he doesn't mean it, he just wants to be a dick. unless you actually do suck)

with tweek it depends. like he might agree with craig and he might not. it really depends on what the thing you're doing is

clyde leans on your shoulder when you two are standing in the halls with a smug look on his face (he wants to embarrass you)

tolkien (and sometimes jimmy) always help you with studying and homework. like they'll teach you the entire subject and make sure you're prepared for the test

jimmy cracks (un)funny jokes to embarrass you in front of your friends

they get all pissy if someones annoying you. craig in particular is not afraid to get physical if you're getting bullied or something. he'll never admit it though

tweek likes to annoy you, but he's also probably one of the more sentimental ones (next to tolkien and jimmy). like he'll be there for you emotionally and stuff, even though he isn't always the best with feelings

jimmy is very encouraging. like if you're down or anxious about something he'll listen intently and give you the most motivational pep talk you've ever heard. he cares a lot and shows it with quality time and just being there!!!

tolkien is very good at listening. he might not understand everything you're going through, but he tries very hard to hear you out and give advice. he also reassures you that he's always there for you

craig isn't the best at showing his own emotions in the first place, so he's kinda. panicky if you're sad. he's learned a lot from tweek though, and will listen closely and try to validate what you say.

clyde doesn't always understand, but he tries. he'll listen to you talk and gives shitty advice, and is generally kinda knuckle-headed. he genuinely cares though

craig tells you about his silly little interests, and like forces you to play with stripe. he also rants to you about space and shit and you always fall asleep to it

whenever everyone falls asleep in the living room while playing video games, you're the one left awake, and you can't help but feel immense happiness at how peaceful they look.

[kiirostarz]

So… I'm a bit shy about this hehe, but I wanted to share a couple of ideas I have for some Disney Mirrorverse characters. They are more like headcanons for my own lore, so let's get to it…

I'll start with Prince Florian from Snow White, because he's the one I added the most story to and who interests me the most. So… I based it on the discarded idea of him being kidnapped by the Evil Queen. Additionally, in the Mirrorverse, while the Queen is preparing her potion to kill Snow White, she accidentally spills it on herself. So I was thinking that something similar should happen to the Prince while he's in the dungeon. Not exactly the same event, but before the Queen fails the spell on Snow White.

1. Prince Florian, a young noble known for his bravery and generosity, was searching for Snow White when he was captured by the Evil Queen. The Queen, always ambitious and eager for power, saw in Florian not only a potential husband but a way to secure her dominance over the kingdom and its riches. Knowing that Florian would never accept her willingly, she devised a dark plan to subjugate him. In her quest for absolute power, the Evil Queen sent her servants to search for mysterious ingredients in the mountains. Among the findings, a pair of diamonds caught her attention due to their unusual brilliance. She noticed that her servants behaved strangely and foolishly in the presence of these crystals. Intrigued, she took one of the crystals and immediately felt its immense power. It was a force capable of binding its possessor to a source of dark and mysterious power. Determined to harness this energy, the Queen began experimenting with the crystal. Mixing it with other substances and her own magic, she created a potion that she believed could subjugate Florian’s will and transform him into her loyal servant. Once the potion was ready, she ordered her servants to bring Prince Florian before her. Florian was brought before the Queen, feeling a chill run down his spine as he faced her. The Queen, with a sinister smile, began a monologue about how she planned to use him to destroy Snow White and consolidate her power. Upon hearing his beloved's name, Florian grew agitated and enraged, but he was trapped. The Queen showed him the artifact she had been working on, with the crystal at its center. Before Florian could understand what was happening, he felt a surge of energy course through his body, as if thousands of lightning bolts were striking him at once. When he woke up, Florian found himself back in the dungeon, now in unbearable pain and almost unable to move. With great effort, he managed to stand up and noticed that his hands and some parts of his body felt heavy. Looking at himself more closely, he saw that his skin had purple cracks, as if it were fracturing into some kind of magical rock. The Queen visited him again, reveling in his suffering and assuring him that he would soon fall under her complete control. Florian tried to attack her, but he was too weak. The Queen left, laughing, leaving Florian in his despair. Florian, too weak to resist, could barely understand what was happening. The huntsman told him he was there to help him escape. With great difficulty, Florian managed to walk with his help, as the huntsman led him out of the castle. Exhausted, he passed out and later woke up with his wounds treated as best as the huntsman could. The huntsman introduced himself and explained his remorse and desire to protect Snow White. Though Florian was initially distrustful, he eventually understood that the huntsman also wanted to stop the Queen. Despite his doubts, Florian decided to trust him. The huntsman revealed that the kingdom was being overrun by dark creatures known as fractured, corrupted by the same magic the Queen had used on him. Florian, with time, managed to regain enough strength. However, as the corruption in his body continued to increase, Florian did his best to avoid being seen by people. People would panic when they saw that he looked similar to the monsters that attacked them. He also learned that the path to his kingdom was closed off, which left him uncertain if his kingdom could survive without him. After a period of depression, seeing the huntsman's strong will to help others, even after he had also been considered a "monster" for doing certain tasks for the Queen, made him realize he shouldn't sit idly by. He would do whatever it took to help people and ultimately save Snow White from the Evil Queen.

Powers and Abilities: Being similar to the fractured allows him to infiltrate among them, as they believe he is one of them. Florian can control them as if he were their leader and even make them harm themselves. He also has magical resistance, as being almost "fractured" makes him immune to various damages or attacks from the true fractured.

The next two are shorter: Prince Eric and Prince Phillip. (The art isn't mine, but they look beautiful.)

In Eric's case, there are already several characters from The Little Mermaid collection, but no one in their bios or story events mentions him. It's also worth noting that in the Mirrorverse, Ariel is now the protector of the sea. She even has her own trident. So, for this story, I thought that in the world of The Little Mermaid, fractured magic has already begun, deep in the sea with Atlantica. That's why Ariel, Triton, and probably her sisters are busy protecting everyone from this corrupted magic. Everyone in the sea knows about this, except for the humans. So, when the prince was celebrating his eighteenth birthday, a terrible storm occurred, ending in a terrible accident. Eric would save everyone, including Max. However, it would be a bit too late for Eric, and he would sink into the sea... This time, it wasn't Ariel who saved him. It would be the strange magic emerging from the depths of the sea. This magic would take Eric's body and teleport him to a different world. He wouldn't remember who he was or who he had been, only his name, as it would be the last thing he heard from the cries of his shipmates desperately searching for him. And so we go from the cursed prince to the lost prince. I've been thinking about which world it could be, but in the end, I decided on a world where Eric doesn't feel so out of place... just a little. And that would be the world of 'Treasure Planet'. Eric would eventually be found by someone near the coast where he was unconscious. Even though Eric had lost his memory, he was still the same humble and helpful person as always, his kindness (and obvious attractiveness) would catch the attention of these people. I'd like to continue more, but I don't remember much about Treasure Planet, so Eric would eventually meet Jim, who would introduce him to his mother, and I'm not saying they won't meet the... bad guy? whose name I can't recall? ... the chubby one. It's just that in the Mirrorverse, their adventure would be different. Perhaps what triggers this adventure is that the fractured have already reached this world. And Jim and Eric will have to go for help, and it's after that they'll meet the guy. I don't have any more ideas... but it would be interesting to see Eric in this world that's almost like his own... just more advanced in terms of technology. Powers and Abilities: Stellar magic enhances the abilities of characters, even if they are not magical or have powers. Eric could have his nautical skills improved, meaning he could use weapons like swords, harpoons, etc., to attack his enemies. Also, his 'nautical intuition' means Eric would possess a natural instinct for navigating and orienting himself in his environment, allowing him to find safe routes through turbulent seas, or even on land.

Now Prince Philip is already known, thanks to the new chapter that the events of the movie have already happened. Aurora mentions several times that she is returning to Maleficent's castle. So, for them the only thing I can think of is that as prince and princess and future kings, they agree to protect their kingdom. Aurora would appoint Phillip as her royal knight, and Phillip would teach Aurora everything he knows about combat. Powers and Abilities: Phillip would be a melee guardian, and I can only imagine that as an expert with the sword, he can attack multiple enemies at once with precision.

Now Ana:

After the death of her parents, Ana grows up in a drastically changed Arendelle. Without Elsa's presence, the natural elements begin to manifest more evidently in the kingdom, drawing Ana's attention. As she grows, she begins to feel a special connection with nature and the elementals, although she does not fully understand their meaning. When the fractured threaten Arendelle, Ana feels compelled to act beyond her role as queen. Inspired by the bravery of the knights protecting her kingdom, Ana decides to take an active role in the defense of Arendelle. With the support of her subjects and her advisors, Ana assumes leadership of the knights and becomes her primary protector. As Ana delves deeper into her role as leader and defender of Arendelle, she begins to experience mysterious visions and dreams that lead her to seek answers about her connection to the elementals. Eventually, she discovers that she has been chosen by the elementals to be her champion in the battle against the fractured, granting her special powers and abilities to confront the darkness that threatens her kingdom. Driven by the call of the elementals, Ana embarks on a quest to discover the truth about her past and her connection to Elsa. As she unravels the mysteries of her lineage and her destiny, Ana meets her long-lost sister, Elsa, and together they work to confront the threat of the Fractured and restore peace to Arendelle. In this version, Elsa. After the death of her parents she would run away and have her own adventure until the event that she is called by the elements, etc, etc...

And now, last but not least, Jenny and Oliver.

So... what I was thinking is that not all worlds could actually survive in the presence of the Fractured. Some are scarce in magic or abilities to face them. So I took a few creative liberties, and I thought it would be interesting if indeed Mickey and the other powerful wizards made a refuge for all these characters. With the help of the Stellar Mirror. Jenny would be one of these characters, she would be the same as in the movie, where eventually she meets Oliver. In this universe, Jenny would be an adventurous girl inspired by the other Guardians to want to do the same, so one day accompanied by Oliver, she decides to explore the outskirts of the refuge. Obviously, it was a dangerous mission, and because of the dangers of the Fractured, Jenny and Oliver end up separated. Jenny manages to make it back to where her parents and butler would be worried about her (I don't see sense in her parents not being there... since... they are in another universe, you know? Haha, I don't think they need meetings or anything). However, Jenny would realize that Oliver is not there and has not returned. Meanwhile, the little kitten Oliver, scared, runs for his life. He stops to drink some water. Unfortunately, this water was infected with stellar magic, so Oliver ends up turning into a giant and fearsome beast... but he's really still the same little kitten. And stories would be created about a horrible monster lurking in the forest "hunting everything in its path" (that's not true), so that's why Jenny couldn't go out because of that "terrible monster". That is until she finds a couple of Guardians who help her go after him. Oliver would recognize Jenny immediately and vice versa. And so would end the origin story of Jenny and Oliver, until they find a cure for Oliver. In the meantime, Jenny would be just another Guardian. With Oliver, of course. For their powers and abilities, Oliver could have agility, meaning he could attack and dodge enemies easily. I don't think I need to explain much because he's… you know… a giant beast… And Jenny could be a healer who heals Oliver when he gets hurt, as well as her allies.

I don't usually do this, but I used AI to give me an idea of what Oliver could look like. But I really think he should be something like a combination of a lynx, a saber-toothed tiger, and a tiger… In the end, I tried to draw a silhouette of what I wanted.

And… yeah… I think that's all. I'm not a great artist, but I see a lot of potential in the Mirrorverse story. And I wanted to share it. Byeeeeeee!"

[raindropren]

!!!!!! Secret Life Episode 9 Spoilers !!!!!!

THIS SEASON IS SO FUCKING GOOD HELL YA

I LOVE THIS

I LOVE SECRET LIFE

IT'S SO GOOD

I'M

SIIJOHFSIHFJSNF

LETS GO, SCAR!! WOO HOO

I GENUINELY LOVE THIS SO MUCH AAA

ALSO WHY IS PEARL SO CRACKED AT THIS GAME!?!?!

So she was i think 3rd in last life, Won in double life, I think 4th or 5th in limited life, and now, 2nd in Secret life!!

What the F u c k

I love it so much

It really helps all my headcanons tbh, it makes me so happy.

Also why does pearl always survive longer then her allies/teammates(Unless they win)

and by always i mean like, 2 times? 2 and a half? if u count tilly maybe? i do... 2.5 :]

I really do wish joel or bdubs won, mostly joel because it would've been so good but I deffo think scar deserved this win.

I think it wouldve been kind of funny if in the 1v1 battle between scar and pearl.. pearl won... and it's just, awkward cause she... didn't want that. at all.

She wanted scar to win after bdubs and joel died, she wanted to sacrifice her life to scar in the end because she wanted her allies to win.

I also think shiny duo is a tragedy in the end. I really hope someone makes a fanfic about them in secret life cause they just, they, they just, <3 <3 <3

I love them alot

I'm making a theory that Gem might, win the next life seires.

Shiny duo winning their second season, please please please /hj /lh

I've already really loved the pearl fanfics from this season cause omg but I just, i just <3 <3 can't wait to see more!! aaa :D

if i get the motivation i fucking will make a fic about gem and pearl coming back into hermitcraft. They have very similar vibes in the life series(they're fucking crazy, don't mess with them, but also you'd rather be on their side then not(I haven't watched gems life series so if i'm wrong on this one, oopsie) cause they are more loyal then most) and I think it'd be fun to see them coming back and talking to eachother about the season ngl.

Murder camel my beloved, shiny duo my beloved

I also think(if I get the motivation) i'd want to make a fic with Pearl and Bdubs, in hermitcraft, afterwards.

ooo so many ideas, so many ideas so little time and motivation.

i wanna know what would happen if pearl accidentally won, despite not wanting too, if she hit scar just alittle to hard and now she was alone, as the sole 2 time winner. I think AU!pearl would have a mental fucking breakdown but i also think it'd be a fun concept aaaa

I want a fic about Pearl just after Bdubs and Joel died, just crying. like tears down her cheeks when she meets back up with scar and aaaa <3

All these would be my au obviously cause i'm way to obsessed with it but my au is set in canon, mostly. or at least alittle, i'm trying LOL

I'm proud of scar :]

like, i'm proud of all the winners but, i really do feel like scar deserved this win

I might watch his pov at some point, i can't wait for people to tear the angst from scars episodes, they already have alittle but with him winning, I can't fucking wait, omg <3

I'm just so excited now

aaaa

i'm nhjgofubkhgfubkjhdfjl eee

I really hope gem and pearl team next season instead of just being temporary allies because they are so fun omg

I really hope there's another season cause god they are so good /nf

I can't get enough of life series pearl in my au

which is why i keep mentioning her, i've basically only watched her pov cause I have a hard time watching others. I wanna watch gem, lizzies(it's ies right? i'm bad with spelling names aa), and now scars. stars above, i love this series

aaaaaaaaaaaaa

secret is probably my new favorite season, idk why, maybe it's because of shiny duo alittle, but y'know :]

There's so much i wish i wanna talk about

like how Pearl said "Always Watching" to BigB

Or just any moment with Pearl and Scott, I miss their last life dynamic alot /pos /notneg

Cleo and Pearls pupper alliance breaking and Pearl saying she really wanted to be allies with Cleo, like I need fics of that so much guys omg (Big MoonRot fan!! ee)

Anytime Gem, Impulse, and Pearl were in a trio together, like omg, It's Soup Group!!! Guys!!! it's them!!! omg!!!!!!!! guys!!

Pearl walking the Warden around like a pro, i love that so much LOL

there's deffo more, but i've typed way to much LOL i just love this so much, it's insane.

[crown-of-roses-thsc]

ART TRADES: Closed

This AU now has a blog because…..I feel like the tumblr people would like it!

Like me or my comic? Give me a donation or commission me here!

You can see my favorite THSC artists here :)

THE BIG STICKIN’ MASTERPOST

Heyo! I’m SnickerDoodlez, I’m a she, and you can call me…basically anything that correlates with “SnickerDoodlez” at all, OR the name of my blog! Or just anything that you vibe with tbh!

Just a warning, despite the fact that you would expect a Christian such as I to be…I don’t know, strict? Uptight?- I act REALLY unhinged in my posts sometimes- just don’t let that scare ya off ;) this is a judgement free zone and despite my seemingly rabid exterior I don’t bite. I’m always up for asks, DMs, anything like that!

Chances are if you ask me for permission to do whatever with my characters / AU / etc etc the answer will be an emphatic YES

FAQ:

Q. What is Crown of Roses?

A. Crown of Roses is my Henry Stickmin AU- its story is told through comics that I post on different social media platforms! As for the synopsis…

The Aquatic Division of the Toppat Clan and most of its inhabitants have blown up in a sudden and unexplained "accident", leaving Ellie Rose- one of the few survivors- to be transferred to the airship division, home of Chief Terrence Suave himself. But Suave isn't all he seems to be, and Ellie has taken it upon herself to overthrow him- accompanied by her two new friends, Reginald and "Lefty". But Suave has eyes everywhere... and everyone has a secret to hide.

This prequel-fic comic is named an AU mostly for minor inconsistencies (The way Sven talks about the airship implies that he was part of a different division, whereas in this he's part of the airship, for example), but I hope you can enjoy it nonetheless! It is heavily inspired by a side game that never saw the light of day (though funnily enough I came up with the basic idea before hearing about this!)

Q. May I make fanart of your AU?

A. Fanart / fan content for this AU is always allowed! And you can of course ship whoever you want (within reason, which should go without saying :P), and if you draw it I’d love to see the fanart ;) even if it isn’t a canon ship! And as long as it’s sfw I’ll reblog any fanart I get! My only request is that you tag me in it ^v^

Q. How old are the characters? / It’s weird to ship Reginald and Ellie.

A. Some character ages are changed in this AU! Not to an insane degree- no child-to-adults or adult-to-minors….and most of the ages aren’t confirmed in-game anyways, so I guess it’s not definitely changing? But still, there have been some changes! For now, here’s what I’ll say for ages (they are subject to change, and are mostly to show the basic differences between character ages!)

Carol is 22. Ellie and Sven are 23. Reginald and Burt are 24. Lefty is 30. Terrence Suave is in his 50s.

And yes, Copperrose is a weird ship :) the weirdness of it was actually what inspired me to make an overly-angsty-crack AU….which eventually turned into a story that I’m proud to say seems to be beloved by quite a few people!

Q. Any disclaimers I should know for this blog / AU?

A. This blog DOES contain fictional gore, violence, suicide, alcoholism, references abuse, manipulation….etc. Viewer discretion advised! However, it does NOT contain swearing (only slightly coarse language) or sexual topics (at most there are references to an affair and a joke or two at Reginald’s expense regarding his nonexistent love life)

Q. Do you accept asks?

A. Yes! Send me asks about the story (I may give spoilers ;)), characters, headcanons, etc…) or if you send an ask aimed at any of the AU’s characters, I may respond with a drawing! In fact, PLEASE SEND ME ASKS. PLEASE. I HAVE NO LIFE. DO NOT WORRY ABOUT BEING CRINGE I SHIP COPPERROSE WHICH IS MEGA CRINGE WE DON’T JUDGE HERE.

Q. Will you feature my OC?

A. I have hosted contests in the past where the reward is to have an OC featured in either the background or as a minor character in the project! You’re always free to ask, but unless you win a contest offering it there are no guarantees! At the moment, the main people who have gotten featured characters are contest winners, friends, and my mega-supporters <3

Q. Do you accept art requests / trades?

A. I accept art requests that are specific to my AU, but otherwise I usually won’t. HOWEVER, I’ll art trade with almost anyone as long as I’m not busy! I only have a few no-nos, which are that I won’t draw any shipping (characters you ship are fine, but the art I make wouldn’t be shipping!) and I won’t draw anything political. (I try to avoid flags as well, but if your character has like…a pin with a flag on it that’s fine)

Please check the top of this post for my status!

Q. What are the characters’ sexualities?

A. The short answer is that I don’t confirm those sorts of things in my fiction- ship who you want- but for more info / the exceptions please read this post!

Q. Where can I read this story?

A. See below!

WHERE CAN I READ THIS STORY?

YouTube Dub (Discontinued)

WEBTOON

Ao3

Tumblr

BIOS

Set 1

CHARACTER INFO / REFS (WIP):

LIVING (as of Chapter 1):

Terrence Suave

Sven Svensson

Carol Cross

Reginald Copperbottom

Dr. Vinschpinsilstien

Burt Curtis

Calvin Carter / “Lefty” / John Doe / “Right Hand Man”

Ellie Suave-Rose

??? & ??? Randrolf

Bach

Minty (belongs to @stan-the-man-in-simp-land )

Wilting and Ed

Wolf (belongs to @oreothefox715)

Brutus (belongs to @smoresthehalloweenqueen)

Gabriel (belongs to @icilarastudios)

DEAD

Randy Radman

T.R.N.K.

Jessica Rose-Suave

Chloe Cross

Valentine Galeforce Copperbottom & Gold Copperbottom

Sir Wilford IV

[recreationalfanfics]

Hello! :D

You know I've read too much Yandere content when I don't even blink at Yandere!Connor kidnapping his beloved. I just think to myself, "What a nice man."

Thanks for the headcanons! Do you have any ideas for Yandere!Jacob?

GJWJFJWJD, TRUE, YAN! CONNOR WAS HARD TO RIGHT BC HE'S GENUINELY THE MOST KINDEST ASSASSIN. But HELL YEAH, I DO. I MAY BE NATIVE BUT I AM NOT IMMUNE TO JACOB FRYE.

- I HAVE CALLED HIM DELULU AS A YANDERE BEFORE but like, he obviously doesn't start out like that. I think his obsession starts with you and how you seem to be the only pure thing in this corrupt city. Yeah, you may curse a lot even if it isn't "proper" and you aren't afraid to snap at people and call them out on your rotten behavior. AND JACOB EATS IT UP EVERYTIME.

- No because I can imagine you befriending Evie first and whenever you visit her when she's with the rooks, some drunk guy hits on her and Jacob is gonna step in BUT YOU ABSOLUTELY RIP HIM A NEW ONE. YOUR WORDS ARE SO BRUTAL THAT EVERYONE IN THE BAR IS CRACKING UP OR BEING ALL: "Stop! STOP! HE'S ALREADY DEAD!" and the man will lash out and that's when Jacob steps in.

- EITHER WAY, HE PUTS YOU ON A PEDASTAL. He loves hearing you talk, he constantly asks Evie about you, and whenever she walks in; he excitedly pops his head out to see if you're behind her. He becomes visibly dissapointed when you aren't and asks Evie why she didn't invite you. HE ALSO DEF TRIES TO MAKE YOU FEEL AS WELCOMED AS POSSIBLE AT THE ROOK HANG OUTS, aka, HE WANTS YOU TO COME BACK TO HIM.

- If you do, his attention is solely focused on you. He'll talk to you, joke around with you, but he also knows he runs out of time with your attention sadly so he hates it when something or someone takes it, HE ALSO HATES IT WHEN HE HAS TO GIVE HIS ATTENTION TO OTHER THINGS. One of his Rooks are trying to talk to him and its like:

"Jacob! JACOB, We have to tell you something!"

Jacob, very coldly:"I'm sure it can wait."

You: "It sounds important, Jacob."

Jacob, very warmly: "I'm sure its fine, luv!"

- He starts making "jokes" about how he's gonna be your husband and at first you find them funny but then you become increasingly concerned that he's staring to believe it because of the way he gets protective when another man talks to you, the way he feels entitled to drop by your home whenever you want, but when you decide to have romantic interest in someone else; he LOSES IT.

- Like if you tell him you have a crush on a guy, he just stands up and looks at you and is all: "What about me!?" and yoy have too look at him and say: "What about you? Jacob, we're not even dating!" and he tries to insist otherwise (despite the fact he never asked that question, nevermind the fact that you never even ANSWERED IT) and eventually you just tell him to leave you alone.

- This where Evie comes in clutch. Regardless if she's a platonic yandere for you and thinks you're safe with Jacob or if she's a familial yandere and wants to make Jacob happy; when you talk to her about Jacob, she'll trash him a bit with you but then start making you feel guilty, telling you things about Jacob that make you feel for him, only to remind you about all of his good qualities. She is so good at talking to you that you do end up forgiving him.

- HOWEVER even if he tries to tone down his behavior, it doesn't change the fact that he will most definetly still think of you as the love of his life, THE OTHER HALF OF HIS HEART. You just mean so much to him♡

- So he'll still try and woo you the old fashioned way and staying in your good graces but if you remain too stubborn or too resistant to his affection then he will kidnap you. He would hate to do it because he doesn't want to force you to see that you love him but he will if you keep trying to stay in denial for too long.

- Totally the type to break into your house when you're not there too, btw. Not to mention that he also really likes to steal small things you wouldn't notice are gone right away and keep them in his pocket, either as a lucky charm or such.

[helloescapist]

Request: Yushiro x male ENTP Reader

Format: I'd like a mix of headcanons and short fic, if possible

Lady Tamayo gets a new demon assistant (y/n); a grinning trickster who seldom takes anything seriously and often uses his blood demon art to mess around. This infuriates Yushiro, who doesn't understand why Tamayo even keeps y/n around. And why on earth does he have to complete tasks and go on errands with him?! Yushiro was doing fine on his own, thank you very much.

However, as he gets to know y/n better through work, Yushiro realizes the two actually have a lot in common. Y/n lived a normal life with a family who loved him until he fell terminally ill. Tamayo offered to turn him into a demon, an offer y/n accepted. However, his family didn't accept the change and attempted to murder y/n, no longer seeing him as a member of their family. With nobody to turn to, y/n attached himself to Tamayo.

Yushiro and y/n grow closer, and after Tamayo's death, retire to live a peaceful life together.

Hello, hello,

I want to express a genuine thank you for your requestion, and initiate a sincere, sincere apology. Your request, well, it became a little derailed from what you asked for. It just screamed, Cheshire Cat, and I sort of... made an OC of you/your request. One that I do intend to visit in future shorts for Yushiro, but none the less, I sincerely hope you can forgive this. I am sincerely sorry Anon, I hope you are still able to enjoy this, and it isn't too far removed from your request.

The Secret Life of Chachamaru

Word Count: 6062

Setting: Yushiro x male!reader

Content Warning(s): malexmale, yaoi, Chachamaru AU (possibly a little out of character for the beloved feline character), character is actually Chachamaru, a little rushed, SFW, mentions of gore, small spoilers for Yushiro + Tamayo in the Infinity Castle/Sunrise Countdown Arc. mentions of sickness, depictions of lead poisoning

Summary: following the fall of the infinity castle, and the triumph of slayers over demons, Yushiro is left to face the loss of Lady Tamayo. Muddled, smeared with blood and gore, it is only through the comfort of his old friend Chachamaru that can ease his burdens, and allow him to look to the future.

A/N: I placed the reader to be born towards the end of the Edo Era, but just younger than Yushiro as I wanted for Yushiro and Tamayo to have an established bond.

You could feel the touch of his calloused fingers. Cracked, and broken skin that remained gentle and warm despite the number of fine lines and abrasions that lined his palms. The dried flecks of onyx blacks and oxidized browns clung to his fingertips, blood buried beneath his nails. The faint scent of sandalwood laced in the gore that littered his clothing.

Horror touched upon the flesh of his hands; brain matter strewn to the linens of his clothing. Draped across the lines of an unfamiliar uniform, a sad attempt at masking his nature. The heaviness of his eyelashes burdened, as the small touches of devastation touched the edge of his eyelashes. Drawn downwards as delicate lavender eyes trembled as his fingertips gently traced the orange patch across your forehead. In all the ways you preferred, years of training petting techniques into the demon before you evident in the way his body submitted to autopilot. Delicately allowed his fingers to trail along the pink of your nose at the quiver of his bottom lip and the hitch of his lower lashes. Naturally evaluating the care of his beloved companion. Pained by the state of his beloved Chachamaru held between his hands, mangled, and marred. The devastation of your state, a righteous blow to your pride though the smallest part of you enjoyed the obvious concern it elicited from the stoic man.  He had worried for you, of course he had. Faintly responding to the blink of your golden eyes as you peered into his moonlight kissed features. The touch of pink of his own nose, rubbed raw in his state of misery. The bags that had accumulated beneath elegant orchid eyes, aware of the rattle of his shoulders, and the tightness of his breath hitched at the ache of his breast. Yushiro’s snivel caught, choked back as he forced the corner of his lips to curl. Delicate, and soft as he regarded the touch of your fur, luscious despite the circumstances of your body. Far too engrossed in the gesture to acknowledge the way your large ambered eyes followed the smallest of his movements. Committing this moment to memory, his movements detailed, and evaluated. The way your heart ached as his fingers tipped strolled through the high of your right cheek, delicately traced the orange patch tenderly allowing his finger to trace from your tear duct danced across the top lashes of your left eye.

              Faint in this touch, careful to remove the debris that had gathered across your features. The rubble that clung to your whiskers dragged across your sensitive sinus. Snapped at your buccal cavity through your nostrils. Throbbing drenched in blood, sweat, and gray matter. The dirt that had clutched to the ends of your fur, muddied the whites of your pelt, an infringement of the beauty of your coat. Bits of gravel snagged into your ear tufts, agitating the pinna. The delicate way his fingers ticked across your features, sensitive of the abrasions that littered your state proof of your valor. Though the sentiment did not seem an act of brilliance to the man who stroked your cheek sweetly. The ache of his heart danced upon his fingers, eliciting the faintest of purrs from your soul. Warm, he was always so warm. Rubble between your eyes, traced upon your nose. A favored place in the last two decades often sought by Yushiro to nuzzle against “Chachamaru” during times of stress such as the mid of day hidden amongst the shadows when his sprawled talisman had grown slappy. When exhaustion would cling to his features, akin to a security blanket. Though in this moment there was no usual sign of the clip of his brow. Nor were his eyebrows drawn, and his lips did not pucker into a scowl. Rather, a tremble stimulated his expression, strangled. Twisted from the tight expression a vague recollection of the times in which he had to entertain the public at the clinic. Yet, this was… different. Mournful. An… expected display vulnerable despite the wandering eyes of kakushi at his side. The rare expression without fear of exposure as his smile faltered, and the tears begin to gather at the corner of his sharp eyes. Chocked back the bitter vile upon his expression that pained your heart in its silence. The tender regard as his hands caressed your heart, allowing extra attention to tracing circles at the corners at your large feline ears. Such intimate care is usually offered in the silence of night, at the flip of a page as his warm voice echoes in your ears. Enticed you to take advantage of circumstances, beckoned you to curl into his lap. “C-C-Chach,” his voice cracked. Ached as it struggled and rumbled beneath his breath as he fought for the words pressed between the sobs that threatened to spill through the cracks in his pride. Anguished to hold his composure through the rattle of his bones with each tight breath as his fingers relentlessly traced circles to the edges of your right ear. The familiar gesture, comforting and poignant, “a-amaru, L-Lady,”.

              You knew.

              The rattle of your own bones, the clutch upon your skull at the moment of her death, rattled as though claws had dug into the pits of your temples, wracked and harvested the essence of thought. Sunk to the pit of your stomach, you knew, and yet, yet in his consideration, Yushiro pressed as though a shattered being that endeavored to consoling a child. To hear him this way. Broken, and battered amongst the wreckage of the Infinity Castle. Topsoil exposed to the surface; bedrock shattered across the carnage. The scent of death that clung to the air, crumbled beams, and exposed wood. Sundered from its security, secrets exposed at the loss of their beams, craftsman, and paper shattered and torn from the layers of sediment. A testament to Yushiro’s will, to his rage. A testimony of his love for the mistress of his strength. The escape of rodents, and the fleeing of insects that sought suffrage. The lull of their security robbed and devastated as the demon who was renowned for his lethal tongue’s armor disintegrated before your eyes. The sharp of his canine devouring his bottom lip as he fought for the words that could not rise in his throat. Salt that poured from his cheeks and choked to his shoulders. Yet, yet he continued to allow the delicacy of his fingers to work their nostalgic comforts at the edge of your ear. The hollow of your breast touched upon the kindness Yushiro expressed despite the shattered emblems of the life he had known littered his features. The medically trained illusionist before you delicate as he worked to assist your regeneration. The crack of your four paws beneath the attachment of your severed head. The blood that trickled from your fur ached across the curve of your spine. The tingle of nerves realigned, and splintered bones that formed callous. Joints that caught to the clip of your skull as you regarded the roll of his tears.

              The comfort of his fingers, and the delicate scent of saffron. Nostalgic, and vulnerable so alike and yet unfamiliar. A shattered husk of, and yet, he continued to rub his fingers. Mask the horrors of loss and devastation. Ached at the touch of his fingers as they danced across your patterned fur. Delicate as the day you had met him.

              The comfort of his fingers, and the delicate scent of saffron. Nostalgic, and vulnerable, so alike and yet unfamiliar to the man. A shattered husk, and yet, the rub of his fingers masked the horrors of loss and devastation. Ached at the touch of his fingers as they danced across your pattered fur. Delicate as the day you had met him.

The candles flickered, casting shadows across papered doors. Danced and dwindled, captives of the stagnant. Their flame stifled to the close quarters and clutched its luminosity. Threatened to snub its light from existence. Shadows that appeared hollow against the shoji, robbed of their salvo. Their once joyful illumination forced them into small rooms. Stuffy and stripped of ventilation coerced into silence by doctors and white cloths.   Ghosts of laughter, and shadow puppets lost against the grain of the exposed beams. Incenses to mask the sickness, that dripped into the fabric of your linens stripped from silk. Stale and clothed in antiseptic that burned the senses. The air dripped amongst medical sutras, tainted with intentions. Stark against your sensitive, rubbed raw and denied of familiar comforts, friendly attendants, and the sheltered security of your former quarters. Loneliness bathed in the confines of an inner sanctum of your family estate.

              Memories of a former life haunted the ebbs of fraying ends of your recollections. A time when you were playful, age had little meaning. One so free to explore, unbound by poverty, and bathed in riches. A family title for you alone to claim for the future, a wash in the confines of your quarters now. Back then, it was the movement of your name, the purpose of your birth. The benefactor of your freedom, petals of a camellia to frolic amongst abandoned lessons. The shadows of trees conceal your midday naps of deserted duties. Grand heists of robbed pastries, and angry chefs. Scandalized maids at attempts to parachute from the rooftops past the security of the castle walls, an adventure elicited from the tales of western men in ridiculous outfits and dipped in foreign language. Dolls crafted from the finest of silks intended dull the boredom of instructor, the one such time tucked into your bedding to take your place in the dead of night when your heart desired to gaze upon the stars at the festival of commoners past the trenches of your home. Pieces of sword play that decorated the callous of your palms, the rage of retainers that struggled to navigate your natural pension for footwork, and the expiration of your lazy swings. An insult upon their pride, the bellow of laughter it would draw from your father, languid strokes that were reminiscent of kabuki performances your nursemaid Haya had accompanied you to many times. Days spent wreaking havoc upon her mundane days, the only woman who dared to accompany your antics with a lecture of manners and etiquette. The only confidant who dared to share the confines of the innermost sanctum. Subjecting herself to the risk of infection or the curse that threatened to diminish the household.

 The memories of the caretaker she had been so many years ago dipped into the linens of a basin. The distinct drips of water that echoed amongst the stifling hush of the space. Her long fingers posed, the tales of age in her movements. Fine lines that had begun to wave to faint colors as the fingers wrangled the linen. The faintest of white marred flesh caught the back of her left hand, a scar she had received so many years ago. When you were playful, when you roamed rooms heedless of the décor. A physical a testament to the loyalties she bore for you though you were far too young to understand the significance of a woman disfiguring herself on your behalf.

              Fought the confusion of the phantom that slipped into her place. Recollections of a woman with chestnut hair who had yet to be claimed by time. Her features that dared to coincide with the older woman before you now. The touch of a lavish hair pin that bound grayed hair unlike the one the younger illusion bore. Far more detailed, delicate, and weaved. Far more cared for than the ghost of the past’s simplistic design that reflected war of abuse. Muddled, and tugged on the lines of memories you struggled to place together. The hazy reflection is a mere mockery of your current state. Joy robbed from your lungs and sank to the pit of your stomach. Ached and dower, the nausea pooled at the strong odors that fanned every corner of the room. Gargled sickness that met the coolness of the cloth at your back.  An old figure of Haya, who’s mouth did not budge from its sedative state attempted to rub the fatigue from your form. A cusp of who you had once been, no longer capable of bearing your own weight, let alone a blade.  A mere rasp of breath that trembled your form as her fingers now well practiced at bearing your weight and the task at hand.  Haya’s eyes as poised as they had always been despite the white lines that had touched at the corner of your eyes. The draw of your brow as you struggled to understand when the woman had grayed. The touches of frustration that caught your consciousness. Only growing more present as she tended to the shell of a child incapable of tending to itself. Robbed of life, hostage by an unknown illness. Far more victimized than you dared to admit, more than Haya would dare to coddle.

              Days of illness that claimed the weight of your muscles. Husked your consciousness and rattled your gastric. How quickly the symptoms had claimed your entire being. How quickly you had succumbed to the loss of appetite, how quickly your body yielded its abilities, and gave way. Days that had succumbed to weeks, weeks that drew your conscious, and slipped into months that robbed you of prior capabilities, before giving way to years that locked you deep into the center of your home. A plague locked away from fear of exposure, oblivious to how long it had been since Haya had sworn herself to your service. Of the dangers she exposed herself to time and time again to care for you. That remained dedicated to your education despite the unfamiliar touch of tomes between her fingers. Wielded a paintbrush when the weight became far too much for your fingers to bare, delivered notes from child to mother in the dead of night even when the responses had begun to fade. Continued to show though the remainder of the castle had since grown silent and bid reasoning when your mother’s presence slipped between your fingers. Continued to share news of the state of affairs at your request, even when it decimated her heart to share the news of a child when all hopes of an heir had passed with your confinement.

              A topic Haya had not approached with the same enthusiasm as you, much to your disapproval. The fade of her hair appearing even more faded from her features. Soured at the line that drew to her lips as your voice trembled despite itself. The condition of welcoming a child having claimed what remained of her own health, and naturally the return of your letters. Quickly seize the moment to her dismay, the traces of the child she had cared for throughout the years reflected in your timing, “How is mother?”

              “Young master, please save your voice,” she hummed. The touch of dryness and hesitation posed on her tongue.

              “H-haya,” you weakly mewed, “h-has she been unbale to eat?”

              Silence pressed between the knot of cloth rolled in circles that cusped at your rigid shoulder blades. “It is to be expected. Childbearing claims a toll, all is well.” Clueless of the twitch of her right nostril, or the way your large eyes caught the tale of her fib pressed into her cheek.

              “Mushrooms, s-send” you rasped with each breath. Unmet with a response to your words just as stern of the bath cloth that rubbed at your sweated state weak against her hold. “send, the merchant. T-Taka? Tama? H-he knows how to find mushrooms. I-in the mountains.” Struggled pieces of memories, touched upon years of stark air at the wiggle of your eyebrow. “D-dango. Mother is fond of the dango sold by the stationer. W-we could go—”

              “YOU will do no such thing,” stern and frigid. Quick to catch the threads of your strategy. The shatter of glass that touched upon the cool of winter, and the howl of the estate’s roof tarnished against your will. Haya always had a talent for detecting the touch of defiance, and in your fragile state, she had become especially gifted in sniffing out antics. Far harsher in her reprimands than she had been so many years ago, quick to anchor you to this sorry state of existence. Shacked to the confines of your room, her eyes as sharp as any blade you had ever been capable of drawing as she depicted the fine lines of your imprisonment. Her steady hands making quick work of the fresh linens, secured the corrupt discards into the folds of a basket. The faintest of tremble in her routine eager to leave your side. The realization drawing bitter contempt in the pit of your stomach and a scowl upon your brow. The grit of your teeth as the handmaid’s expression mirrored your own. Firm, and unyielding as the winter night save for the break of a soft sigh as she drew herself to her feet. The hem of her faded kimono barely in sight. An oddity form her usual cared for state. The small touches of rayed ends, perhaps the result of her old age as her thin frame leaned forward just enough to cusp the thick of your bangs. Her hand far smaller than you could recall, gently rustled through the strands. A pressed smile in her tone, “Lord [YN], sweet child, your mother… requires rest. As do you, please. Understand.” Her fingers drew the softest of circler motions from the arch of your nose to your forehead before falling to your ear. Just as she had done in your toddling years, how she would sooth the tears from your eyes so long ago. Though the gesture was delicate, you could not fight the sense of abandonment. The wound of pride that refused to settle upon your brow, rejecting her gaze. The track of the door sliding behind her, and signaling that once again.

              You were alone.

              Left only with the company of gossip that seeped through the cracks. Rumored that passed from maid to maid in the depths of the sanctum. Dipped from view and believed from ear shot. How long had it been that you had been confined to such an existence, that not even the help did not remember your presence? All evidence of their praise, of their longing for approval washed from the estate, and identified by loose tongues. Fearless of reprimand the bitter understanding of how far you had fallen from esteem. Forced reclusion, holding little more cards than a fallen daimyo.  Uttered whispers of an early arrival, uttered about a frail creature. The tolls of labor that had taken far more than expected by the physician, the lady of the estate in duress. Utterances of the shame of the fall of the young master, accusations of a curse that had befallen the Head of the Household. Damned to lose those he cared for, and the tug of your fingers at the collar of your nemaki.

Your lungs burned I the dead of the night, struggled to heave in the frigid air. Muscles strained from unfamiliar exhaustion. Unaccustomed to roaming as it once had freely, the heave of your shoulders pressed against the mon. The structure lavishes, and commanding. Far more than enough to conceal your state of fatigue. The rare state of peace drawing lazy shuffles of guards, unbothered by the dark corners of the estate in which you begged for air. The dark of the night, and the faint touches of the moonlight as you struggled to manage on your feet.  The pads of your feet ached against the stone walkway. The tips of your toes screaming in agony as you forced your skeleton forward. Winter rattled against your bones, the hakama you had worn so many years before the fateful day you had been confined to forgotten quarters. Snug against your hips, the difference in your height inevitable, the cut of the fabric no longer bearing resemblance of a proper hakama attire befitting of a firstborn son of the samurai class. Rather, resembling a jinbei of the lower classes hiked just above your knee exposing you to the crushing winds of winter. The snow beneath your feet crunched painfully with each step you forced at the rasp of your lungs. Exhaustion threatening to crush your resolve as your grasp on memories begun to dwindle. Having exhausted recollections through your navigation of former escape attempts had faded into the present of the day, distorted and confused at the shift of buildings. Taller than you remembered, new? No, maybe? The turn of your head struggled and rasped slow to comprehend the shift of your surroundings as your form folded into the snow. The light slipping from your eyelashes.

He had found you back then. Face dug into the snow, practically frozen, and struggling for air. Younger back then than he was now, and unaccustomed to medical practices. Left only with the uncertainty of bearing your weight upon his back to seek assistance from his mistress. Why, you had never thought to ask. Though when you had come to grasp the scent of calendula. Sweet and floral notes that clung to the fingers that adjusted the cloth upon your brow. The unusual scent, and the warmth of youthful fingers. How long had it been? The joy of company, of one your age drawing you to clasp his hand in the dwindle of candlelight. Forgoing practiced manners as you cupped his hand to your cheek, to savor it for just a moment, clueless to the grin you bore, or the horror the response had elicited in your savior. Brought only to realization to the way he howled to his lady’s aid though it prevented very little of your own complaint as you attempted to lean upon his retreat. Beckon for just a moment longer pressing further even though he had anchored his padded sock to your cheek to ensure distance between the two of you. The slew of insults he had yowled to the beams, to the floorboards as you had attempted to pursue his company.

              You, you had been so naïve back then. Youthful, and naïve, or perhaps, it was your optimism that had led you a stray. The desperate attempt to cling to mortality though Lady Tamayo’s diagnosis had confirmed the worst. Her offer to extend your life through her own force was enticing. The opportunity to live once more amongst the household. To greet your father in practice swordsmanship, to earn his praise once more at the dip of your quick toes. Her vitality uttered in the dark out of Yushiro’s ears, quick to wash his hands of you after such close contact, had brought back more energy than you could have dreamed. Ensure the return of the son. Of playfulness, of laughter, and of joy. Of mischief that danced upon the gardens. To deliver the sweet treasures from town for your mother, to bright up her existence once more. TO return her appetite to her side, to meet the child she had born. To know its name, to greet its first smile, and to witness its wandering amongst the corridors as you had once done. It was all so… wistful than what had happened. Your return, a phantom of what you had once been—Lady Tamayo had warned you. She had expressed your life was tied with her own. A mere figment of the child you had been, The consequences of your return marred as possession. A baneneko amongst the gardens a manifestation of the curse that had claimed the first-born child. A mocker of his form, adorned with cat ears, and flickered hair that had been dyed orange in the candlelight when you had accepted Lady Tamayo’s grace. The crass of your once black hair, bordered into the paleness of phantoms, struggling to comprehend why your mother had screamed upon the sight of feline features born upon her child. How she had clutched an infant to her breast, mournful rattle of curses for the child she had lost.

              The explanation had died upon your lips, the shatter of priceless vases shattered amongst the pillage of her room. Desperately seeking to defend the child at her breast. The maids that had elicited hushed horrors. Shattered the waters of your return and stripped away the illusion you had fed yourself after so many years. The scuffle of retainers, bound by ropes and akin to the blade of your father.  Haya’s scream, All of it, was a blur. A faint figment of a past you had fled in the night hours, scrapped from the approach of dawn,  your exhaustion or perhaps, the trauma had resorted you to the state Tamayo had warned. Submitted to four paws once more, and collapsed into the snow. Found only by your mistress, and her attendant. The careful hold he had met you with back then. So tender, and considerate. How bitterly he had sworn curses at those who would leave scars upon such a beautiful creature, and the lower of Tamayo’s eyes. Her silence regretful, and to bear the responsibility for your loss. For your life, the slips she had allowed. Offered to tend to you, regain your form, and carry the weight of your burdens. Though, you did not hold her to such a claim. Rather, you submitted to her side. Accompanied the duties amongst the sunlight as her familiar that she could not bear. Delighted in Yushiro’s care when your words could not emerge. Days confined from daylight to be spoiled in his care,

              When your form had greeted you once more, you hadn’t the forethought to consider how it would impact your relationship. Rather upon your return to his side, you had been quick to fall into old habits despite the way his horrified reaction had met your ears. Confused at the grabby, death bound boy he had met so many years ago defying the odds at he flicker of a cat’s ear as he dared to force yourself upon him once more. Some part of you enjoyed the touch of horror in the pitch of his voice and sought to keep what he knew as Chachamaru separate than your state. Rummaged havoc upon a clinic, free to go as you pleased, held together by Lady Tamayo’s silence, and the adorable way the scowl drew upon the spell weaver’s face at your antics. Misplaced bottles, touches of flipped books, targeted customers that dared to press further than they should. Seized upon the opportunity to test a younger man’s will, utilizing abilities to slip from view.  Free to shatter the peace of the night clinic, delighted to shoo away ungrateful inquiries.  Delighted in the uttered antics that Yushiro would confine in Chachamaru of the wanderer who drew his ire, oblivious way his lips would betray the ghost of a smile.

Yes, long ago, you had made the choice to keep the two separate. To delight in the joys of your life as you once had, to return upon mission in the dead of night at his side. To ensure his comfort, to ensure his warmth, and when Lady Tamayo had offered a more… permanent arrangement, all too aware of what fate awaited her. You had accepted without much consideration. The chance to remain at his side. To stay within his touch. You told yourself that if it was Yushiro’s desires, you would live the remainder of existence as Chachamaru To submit yourself to a life upon all fours, to relinquish the freedom of your form. To chain yourself to an existence as a mere condolence of his loss, of Lady Tamayo’s care. You had accepted the terms, though she had never damned you to such a fate. Take care of each other, she had whispered leaving no implications of what such destiny entailed.

              It had been so much easier to bound yourself to such conditions.

              Until the tears slipped from his eyelashes. As the snot caught upon the top of his lip,  and his eyebrows quacked as though he were a small child that desperately missed the comfort of his mother’s sleeves. The rattle of his bones that robbed you of your own breath. The witness of his stat, mournful and destroyed. Confined to a fate he had not agreed to. Alone. Confined to the light of the moon, kept locked away from the presence of day. From people. From warmth, from comfort. From the touch of another, no such creature to remain at his time to catch the tears that spilled from his cheeks as Yushiro’s forehead met your own.

              The quiver of his brow struggling to comprehend the shift in form. The weight upon his lap, and the arms that enveloped him within their hold. Caught upon the back of his head. Attempting to sooth the ends of his hair as though consoling a small child. The flutter of his eyelashes, caught between his tears. The wordless acceptance of a troublemaker’s presence drifted from Chachamaru’s place that regarded his loss with delicate understanding. The unsure flip of your ears to pinion against your head as your gold eyes gazed upon his. The bit of his lip, fumbled into his heart. Grasped at the situation, smart as he has always been. The relief that followed at the ache of his breast that trembled within your hold. Relinquishing his weight into your arms as the depths of his despair became your own, the soft way he whispered your name into your neck as the tears met your skin, allowing you to embrace hm as you had attempted so many times throughout the year. His breath to become your own in the dwindling of the night, drifted into eternity.

A few Yushiro+ SFW Relationship Headcanons with a ENTP Male!Reader

An unexpected relationship that one would struggle to understand. Though with patience and time I mean you have more than enough of that. It’s a relationship that can bear wonderful results.

Where Yushiro hesitates, you are bod. Where he is practical, you are adventurous.  

In a mutual relationship where respect and trust has properly been cultivated, communication will never be a problem between the two of you.

You will find that in many ways, you think alike.

And while Yushiro is more often than not detailed oriented, he finds your ability to adjust to the big picture a comfort that can help him to release his clutches on your existence.

In doing so, you are the answer to a happy future for Yushiro, one in which he is less bound than he would otherwise have suspected. One in which his paintings of the late Lady Tamayo are not held in anguish, but in faint recollections in the clip of your large eyes.

Reminiscent of her own. The way small little bit s of herself have been adorned into your existence both as Chachamaru and bled into your own habits. The way you hold your chopsticks as you ponder something he had whispered over dinner. Thoughtful at the way you gnaw at the tip of the utensils. A small pout as you do so.

Little traces of her slipped into your existence the result of your lives having once been bond together.

You help him to remember her, to touch upon her existence, but at the same time, you are not her, and as such, it can come up from time to time how he regards you. Often times more stiffly than he should, far too willing to offer a hand in walking as a means to assist your navigation of paths. Just as he used to for his lady. The immediate abrasion of those who would dare to greet you pushed back at a bitter tongue, just as he used to do for her.

Oblivious to how you desire engagement. The opportunity to socialize amongst the night streets with curious passerby who are intrigued by your “cosplay”.

The realization often sends a bitter wave through your core, and results in a level of push back. It is an unintentional source of conflict in your relationship.

Though you may wish to snap at him from time to time, irritability can at times be a part of your personality, it is not something that should be approached harshly. Yushiro’s own temper can get the better of him more than not, and you will end up in quite the lover’s spat if you allow your tongue to lash out.

Rather, the issues of your connection with the deceased bleeding into your relationship should be addressed with appropriate discussions. A level approach in which you lean upon his logical thinking will land far better than asking him to consider your perspective. You are not Tamayo hurts, but it’s impactful.

Though Yushiro is a meticulous individual, you may also find yourself frustrated from time to time at the speed in which his brain works, and how quick he is to dive onto topics at hand—I mean you’re already fighting, now seems like a reasonable time to draw up all grievances and air them out.

Though I know it can be difficult in the light of day, be sure to allow each other as much space as you possibly can. It will certainly be easier in the depths of night. He will not fight your escape through the window to the roof, nor to the neighborhood night market to banter with grocers or enjoy visiting a noisy bar. So long as you understand that during your escape, he has claimed your home to give himself time to proceed with the fight.

The reality is that you two are in many ways different than one another in terms of how you process information, feelings, and your environment, and it will require a bit of patient to fine iron each other’s quirks. It WILL require give and take.

Yushiro is dedicated to preserving his relationship, but he also has a tendency to believe he is right, and often unbudging. He will not yield easily, and the bright side is that you do not have the tendency to take things to heart.

You would have to learn to savor moments huddled into one another on a night in, and other times, Yushiro will have to swallow his pride, and allow you to parade him through a night festival and delight in where you will lead him. Which, he is far more willing to follow where you lead if you allow his trust to properly bloom.

He requires consistency and reliability.

If you allow yourself to be as flighty as your heart often claims, you will find the progression of your relationship not only rocky, but incapable of submerging.  Though understand, he has no desire to change the manners in which you approach life—he is adjusted to the usual antics you depict, and your habits to be carried away with the wind.

He wouldn’t change it by any means.

Yushiro secretly delights in the comfort of time alone from time to time, but finds reassurance that some things never changes.

There is no need for excuse, nor a verbal sparring match.

Just. Leave. A. Note.

It’s really that simple.

I can imagine you utilizing the ability to shift into your Chachamaru form more often than you should-- especially when you realize that it is a near instant win in arguments. shame on you.

More so, I can imagine that this revert form is often a great way for you to save energy, and so I can imagine that you find yourself in this form when you are feeling fatigued, or sick.

Imagine Yushiro taking care of your little fever and whiskers.

He takes satisfaction in rubbing your ears just as he used to. More so, he can see the way you still lean into his touch when his fingers graze by your right ear. Putty in his hands, and it's the familiarity of the gesture that has him petting you (cat form or not) more than he is willing to ever confess.

He melts when you take him to a night cat cafe. Though he will never openly admit how happy he is. Such inquiries are sure to elicit a dower mouth pucker, but you are far aware that the kittens in his arm, clung to his pants, and resting upon his head are proof that he is enjoying himself.

Though part of you is jealous that others are cuddled up against him.

Don't be. Yushiro is a dedicated man, not that you need to be told. He takes his commitments very seriously, and with Lady Tamayo's approval of him to remain at your side, as the last piece of her that roams this earth, he is bound to you. His heart will never stray.

The worst you will have to prepare for is the doting I mentioned earlier.

Life in the modern future with you will make his existence far brighter. There is comfort in your willingness to adventure. On his own, Yushiro is willing to confine himself to a small apartment on the edge of existence.

With your free-spirited warmth and curiosity, he is likely to discover that there are few who would suspect his circumstances than there were so long ago. More so, you will find that there is a kindness in the wanderers of the night.

You’re accompanying him is comforting, and if you have given him time, given him the space to come to you as you know to do—you will find that Yushiro will very happily take your hand. Allow you to lead him into the adventures of the night.

[auxiliarydetective]

OHC Day Two: Mystical Communication

Lawrence and Charlie, totally human best friends

I was talking to my beloved @fluffle-ocs while planning the challenge entries and we realized two of our OCs both have a habit of annoying spectral entities.

Since I'm currently low on spoons, I can't write a full fic, but I will give you some headcanons on what happens when their Hatchetfield OC Lawrence and my Ghostbusters OC Charlie interact.

I imagine it's one night after a really exhausting job for the Ghostbusters and Charlie has put them all to sleep - magically and perhaps without their knowledge, but they need their sleep. They're only human after all. But with how many ghosts and specters there are currently running around the city, Charlie can't just leave everything unattended.

So, he uses his magic of the phone in the firehouse to make it able to connect universes and that's how it all starts.

"Hey, buddy, how are you? Yeah, I've got a whole country's worth of specters here and the boys are knocked out. Do you wanna come over and keep those ghosts busy for a bit?"

Charlie just casually using the dimensional crack at Dana's apartment building to get Lawrence to New York, as one does. Totally not a demon right there...

Of course the two of them won't actually be doing the Ghostbusters' job, that would just raise questions

I imagine Charlie wouldn't want to expose Lawrence to the proton streams since he himself is already weakened by them, despite being a high-ranking, powerful demon. Charlie would be worried that Lawrence could be seriously hurt.

So, they do what Lawrence does best, and that's being a menace

They go around New York and mess with the ghosts, play games with them, just generally distract them from haunting thr humans. Instead, they pit the specters against each other or try to remind them of what it was like to be human if they can

Charlie, for the first time in what feels like ages, wouldn't be walking around as "Charlie" at all, he'd have to pick a different form so that people don't recognize him and ask questions. This might be a little hard on him for reasons he can't fully understand, but I'm very certain Lawrence would be there for him.

So yeah, that's all I've got ^^"

I'm sorry that this is so short, I'm just really lacking spoons and inspiration right now. It's either full-on hyperfocused madness or an absolute struggle. But I hope you enjoyed this <3

General Taglist: @starcrossedjedis @oneirataxia-girl @daughter-of-melpomene @bravelittleflower @box-of-bats