#but i’m in the process for redoing my room so

[brainrothawks]

i’m setting up to get a bearded dragon this week and i’m so excited look at him

[solxamber]

Roommate Rumble || Vil Schoenheit

You and Vil end up as roommates due to administrative error. Unstoppable force (Vil's perfectionism) meets immovable object (your chaos). It ends up working out perfectly.

and they were roommates!!!!

You’re sitting in the most soul-crushing waiting room imaginable—stale air, uncomfortable plastic chairs, and the smell of desperation. You’re waiting for the housing office to process your late application, which, in hindsight, you should’ve done weeks ago, but hey, it’s college. Time isn’t real here.

Between borderline disastrous drinking sessions, last-minute assignments, and your general vibe of chaos, the fact that you’ve even made it this far is kind of a miracle. But now, thanks to your masterclass in procrastination, you’re about to get assigned a random housemate for the year. At this point, you’re too mentally checked out to care who it is. As long as they don’t steal your ramen, it’ll be fine… probably.

The door swings open, and in walks the most absurdly pretty man you’ve ever seen. Like, this dude looks like he stepped straight off the cover of a magazine. And not just any magazine—like, one of those high-fashion ones where people look all ethereal and judgmental at the same time.

You try not to stare, but it’s impossible. He’s got this aura about him, as if he’s too good for this building, this situation, this plane of existence. He walks up to the front desk, where the housing clerk is, predictably, typing at the speed of a snail.

“I’m here to check the status of my application,” the guy says, his voice smooth but with a distinct undercurrent of annoyance.

The clerk squints at her computer, clicks around a bit, then frowns. “Uh… what was your name again?”

The guy rolls his eyes, but still answers with the grace of a runway model, “Vil Schoenheit.”

You nearly choke. Vil Schoenheit? Isn’t that, like, some kind of celebrity? You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him on billboards for fancy skincare products or something. Now you’re really trying not to stare.

“Uh… huh,” the clerk says, now looking vaguely uncomfortable. “It seems… we may have, um, misplaced your form.”

Vil stares at her, and you can practically feel the temperature in the room drop by several degrees. “Misplaced?” he repeats, his tone icy. “You lost my form?”

“W-Well, not lost,” she stammers, “more like, uh, temporarily… not found.”

Vil’s eyes narrow, and you have to hand it to him—he makes passive-aggressive sound like an art form. “And how, exactly, do you plan to rectify this?”

The clerk clicks around desperately on her computer again, clearly wishing she was anywhere else. “Well, um, we’re going to have to randomly assign you a housemate. Since we don’t have time to redo the whole process… y-you’ll just have to— Oh, wait!” She pauses, glancing between you and Vil. “You both applied at the same time, so you can just… be housemates! Problem solved!”

There’s a beat of absolute silence as you and Vil both process this. You glance at him, and he glances back, slowly looking you up and down with the precision of someone scanning for flaws in a diamond.

Finally, he sighs, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “Acceptable.”

You blink, unsure whether you should feel insulted or… flattered? He says it with the same tone you’d use to describe a pair of shoes that don’t quite match your outfit, but are passable in a pinch.

You don’t even get the chance to respond because, let’s be real, your brain is still trying to catch up. Did Vil Schoenheit just say you were “acceptable” as a housemate?

Honestly, though, you shrug it off. If you’re being real, as long as he stays in his room and you stay in yours, who cares if you’re housemates with a guy who looks like he bathes in designer moisturizer?

“Great!” the clerk chirps, relieved to have avoided death by model glare. “You’re all set, then! Enjoy your semester!”

You glance at Vil one more time, who’s already looking like he regrets every life choice that led him here. Meanwhile, you’re just hoping he doesn’t judge you for eating pizza rolls at 3 AM.

It's three days into this whole housemate arrangement with Vil, and honestly, it’s not bad. You’ve barely even crossed each other’s paths, which works out perfectly. He does his thing, you do your thing—totally peaceful.

You stumble out of bed one morning, still half-asleep, grab the first set of clothes you can find on the floor (you’re 90% sure these jeans don’t belong to you), and zombie-walk your way to the kitchen. You’re already 15 minutes late to class, but who cares? Time isn’t real, and neither is your motivation.

As you shuffle in, you spot Vil at the counter. He’s sitting there, back straight, eating what looks like a perfect, Instagram-worthy breakfast. It’s all eggs and avocado toast and some kind of smoothie that’s probably made from fruits you’ve never even heard of. He’s impeccably dressed, even though it’s like 7 AM, and you can’t help but be mildly impressed. The guy is a full-time student, works as a model and actor, and still manages to look like he just walked off a red carpet.

Meanwhile, you’re over here in a mismatched hoodie and some band T-shirt from high school, hair resembling a rat’s nest, and the sheer determination of a person who’s willing to eat raw cereal to survive.

You try to be polite, offering Vil a smile. Or at least, what you think is a smile. It’s probably more of a grimace, to be honest. You’re running on fumes, and it shows.

Vil glances at you, eyes narrowing like he’s silently assessing every poor life choice you’ve made up to this point. Still, he says nothing, just gives a tiny nod of acknowledgment.

You head straight for the pantry, grab a box of cereal, and rip open a Red Bull. Breakfast of champions. You’re about to pour the cereal into your mouth raw, no milk, no dignity, when suddenly—

SMACK.

The Red Bull flies out of your hand, clattering to the counter, and you’re left holding an empty cereal box like some kind of fool. You stare at it in shock, then turn to Vil, who’s looking at you like you just summoned Satan.

“Dude??” You blink, genuinely confused.

Vil crosses his arms, expression disgusted as he points at the stove, where there are some leftovers of whatever perfect meal he made earlier. “That,” he says, enunciating like he’s explaining basic math to a child, “is food. What you were about to ingest is poison.”

You look between him and your spilled Red Bull. “Uh, that was breakfast?”

“No,” Vil snaps, “that was a caffeine overdose waiting to happen. And dry cereal? Have you lost the will to live entirely?”

You’re still processing the fact that he just slapped your breakfast out of your hands when you glance at the stove again. Your stomach growls, and, well, you guess your organs could use something that won’t actively try to kill you.

“Fine,” you mutter, shuffling over to grab a plate. “But if I’m late to class, I’m blaming you.”

Vil barely glances at you as you load up your plate with whatever masterpiece he’s made. “You’re already late,” he says flatly.

“...Okay, fair.”

You sit down at the table, expecting the silence to be awkward, but it’s surprisingly chill. You eat, Vil eats, and for a brief, strange moment, it’s kind of peaceful. You didn’t think breakfast could be… normal. Not with someone like him.

Just as you finish, Vil stands up, wipes his mouth, and gives you a small nod. “You’re welcome,” he says, like he’s just saved your life—which, in his eyes, he probably has. Then he grabs his bag and leaves the kitchen without another word.

You sit there for a moment, fork still in your hand, feeling oddly touched. Then you glance at the clock.

You’re now 30 minutes late to class.

Totally worth it.

You pass out at 4 a.m., your body finally giving in to the pure exhaustion that college life has inflicted on you. You're in that deep, blissful sleep when, at exactly 7 a.m., you're jolted awake by a scream so loud it feels like it rattled the entire room.

At first, you try to ignore it, desperately clinging to the last remnants of sleep. But after a moment, you groggily realize there’s no escaping it. You groan and roll out of bed, stumbling into the hallway with all the grace of a sleep-deprived zombie, not even bothering to change out of your mismatched pajamas.

Standing outside his room, on top of a chair(???), looking absolutely frazzled, is Vil Schoenheit. Hair still perfect, but his usual calm demeanor is gone, replaced by… well, panic?

“What the hell happened?” you mumble, rubbing your eyes.

Vil’s face is pale, and he gestures to the door of his room with a shaky hand. “There’s—there’s something in there.”

Your brain immediately jumps to the worst. An intruder? A stalker? A wild animal? Something actually dangerous? Vil shifts behind you, as you carefully open the door just enough for you to peer inside. You brace yourself, expecting to see something terrifying.

Instead, Vil points dramatically toward the floor. “There.”

You blink. And then you see it—a cockroach. A big one, sure, but still. A cockroach.

You turn to Vil slowly, your face a mask of pure judgment. “You woke me up… for this?”

Vil, now perched on a chair, crosses his arms indignantly. “It’s not about fear. It’s about disgust. I am not touching that.”

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“...No. No, you don’t.”

Resigned, you grab a cup and a piece of paper from the kitchen. You approach the cockroach like some kind of extermination expert, scoop it up, and open the nearest window. With one swift motion, you throw the unfortunate bug into the outside world, praying it finds a better life somewhere far, far away.

“There,” you say, tossing the cup in the trash. “Crisis averted.”

Vil, still standing on his chair like the floor is lava, steps down carefully, brushing off his clothes with an air of dignity as if he hadn’t just been screaming at a cockroach. “I wasn’t scared,” he says, straightening his posture. “I was disgusted.”

You nod along, patting him on the shoulder with the patience of someone who knows it’s best not to argue. “Sure. No problem. Don’t worry about it.”

Vil purses his lips, his pride clearly a little bruised, but he still offers a tight smile. “Thank you.”

You wave him off as you shuffle back to your room, your bed calling you back like a siren. As you flop onto the mattress, you think to yourself, He might be a diva, but damn, he’s gorgeous.

With that, you pass out again, hoping to squeeze in a couple more hours of sleep before the universe inevitably conspires to ruin your day again.

You and Vil have settled into an odd but functional arrangement. If not quite friends, you’re definitely acquaintances with benefits — and by benefits, you mean Vil keeps you from dying a slow death via your terrible diet, and in return, you serve as his on-call exterminator for the various bugs your old house seems determined to spawn. It’s a mutual understanding, and lately, he’s stopped questioning your life decisions. Well, not as much.

One afternoon, you’re sprawled on the couch, half-asleep and doomscrolling on some social media app, when Vil clears his throat. You jolt upright, momentarily thinking you’re about to get a lecture about posture, only to find him standing there, looking at you in a way that’s… almost awkward?

“What’s up?” you ask, genuinely curious because Vil being awkward is as rare as you cooking anything edible.

Without a word, he hands you an invitation, embossed with gold lettering and all. It's for a performance competition on campus. The kicker? Vil’s participating.

“You want me to come?” you ask, surprised.

He waves a hand, trying to look nonchalant. “Only if you’re available,” he says, but there’s a slight tremor in his voice. He’s trying to play it cool, but the slightest hint of tension betrays him.

You have no plans (unless eating ramen at 2 a.m. counts), so you agree. “Sure, I’ll come.”

The day of the competition arrives, and you actually dress like a normal human being for once. Vil didn’t give you any kind of ultimatum about your outfit, but you figure you should at least try to look like you belong among the living.

You’re in the front row — of course, Vil had VIP tickets to a performance competition. The crowd is buzzing, but you’ve barely noticed because your attention is glued to the stage.

Vil appears, bathed in light, and you swear you’ve just glimpsed into heaven. His voice is smooth and captivating, his moves are graceful, and his gaze? One hundred percent lethal. It’s almost unfair. He’s the kind of performer that could turn someone to stone with a look.

You’re standing there, feeling the ridiculous urge to brag to the people around you that he’s your roommate. “Yeah, that’s right, I share a bathroom with that guy.”

Then, Neige LeBlanche takes the stage. Now, you’ve heard the hype. Neige is the campus sweetheart, the kind of guy who probably smiles at babies and rescues kittens from trees. If Vil is the untouchable beauty you admire from afar, Neige is the best friend you’d want by your side, also weirdly gorgeous.

You expect another powerhouse performance. You’re bracing yourself for it. And then… he starts singing.

Wait.

Is Neige… singing a nursery rhyme?

You blink. The crowd is eating it up, swaying along like they’ve been hypnotized. Meanwhile, you’re just standing there, dumbfounded, the only person in the front row not bopping along.

You glance around, jaw practically on the floor. Is everyone here insane? The man is singing something that you swear you heard at preschool.

And then it happens. Neige wins. The audience erupts into cheers, and you think the universe is playing a cosmic joke on you. What the actual—?

“What the fuck?” The words slip out before you can stop them, loud enough that the people around you turn to stare. Apparently, your disbelief is showing. You even catch Vil’s eye for a moment, and he smirks weakly at your outburst, but it’s clear the loss stung. A little part of you feels something unfamiliar—anger on someone else’s behalf.

You don’t even stay for the encore. It’s either leave or throw something at the stage, and you’d rather not get banned from campus events. You march out of the hall, still fuming.

Later, when Vil returns, you can see it in the slight slump of his shoulders. The air of perfection is still there, but it’s a little cracked around the edges. That anger bubbles up again.

But you have a plan. A master plan.

Vil’s been telling you for weeks that you’d look decent if you just took care of yourself, and you’ve been brushing him off like the human disaster you are. But tonight, for him? You’re willing to make a sacrifice.

So, when he looks at you, barely meeting your eyes, you blurt out, “You can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes widen slightly. “What?”

“Whatever creams, lotions, skincare products—you want to use on me. Go wild. I’ll be your project for the night.”

Vil’s expression lights up like a kid who just found out Christmas came early. You didn’t think it was possible for someone to get this excited about transforming you from a crusty goblin into a passable human, but here we are. And honestly? You kinda owe him at least this much, considering he makes sure you don’t die from malnutrition.

The next hour is nothing short of war. Vil is aggressively applying products to your face like he’s trying to sandpaper your soul clean. His focus is deadly serious, his hands precise as he rubs some fancy serum onto your skin.

Between all the smearing of moisturizers and the occasional Ow!, the two of you start talking. Or rather, you start griping about Neige’s performance.

“I mean, seriously? A nursery rhyme?” you groan, rolling your eyes.

Vil huffs, his fingers moving swiftly over your cheeks. “Don’t remind me. The judges clearly have no taste. What kind of competition rewards… that?”

“Right? I was ready to riot. Your performance was like…” You search for the right words as he smears something cold on your forehead. “It was like watching art come to life, and then he goes and sings Twinkle Twinkle and everyone acts like he just reinvented music.”

Vil laughs—an actual laugh, something deep and genuine that makes the tension in his shoulders ease a little. “You sound like you wanted to run on stage and throw him off.”

“Maybe I did,” you mutter, wincing as he pats something into your skin a little too enthusiastically. “Honestly, the only reason I didn’t is because I didn’t want to get banned from campus events.”

By the time he’s finished, Vil steps back to admire his work like an artist assessing a freshly painted canvas. “There,” he says, his voice softer now. “You look… acceptable.”

“Wow, high praise,” you snort, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Vil.”

He smiles back, something quieter and more genuine. “Thank you.”

You wave him off, already heading to your phone. “So… delivery tonight? I’m thinking chicken?”

Vil wrinkles his nose. “Not fried. How about sushi?”

“Deal,” you grin.

As you place the order, you can’t help but think—yeah, maybe you and Vil are friends now. Weird, slightly dysfunctional friends. But friends, nonetheless.

You’ve been working on this project for months. Countless sleepless nights, caffeine-fueled coding sessions, and a pile of stress larger than your student loan debt have led to this moment. It’s crunch time. You’re this close to submitting your final assignment. You think you deserve a break, so you go to order a coffee—just 10 minutes, tops.

But when you come back? Your laptop, your precious laptop, is gone.

You look around in disbelief. This can’t be happening. Someone stole it. The weeks of coding, months of planning, your entire project, everything. Gone.

You do the only thing you can think of when life throws you a sucker punch like this: you go drink.

You’re a few shots deep when your phone buzzes. It’s Vil. He’s asking, “Are you going to be home for dinner?” His voice is sharp, but you can’t even string together a coherent answer. You let out some garbled mess of a response that’s more slurred syllables than actual words.

There’s a pause, then a very clear “Send me your location. Now.”

Vil shows up at the bar like he’s stepped out of a luxury fashion magazine, a vision of elegance in this grimy little dive. You’re nursing what can only be described as a sad excuse for a cocktail, and he just gives you this look—disapproving, concerned, and about two seconds away from reading you the riot act.

He doesn’t say a word as he helps you out of the bar and drives you home. You can barely sit upright in the passenger seat, mumbling something about losing your laptop. You’re not even sure if he hears you.

Back at home, Vil sits you down on the couch and hands you a glass of water. “Drink,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You sip the water, slowly sobering up, though your mind is still a mess. Meanwhile, Vil is pacing back and forth like an actor in a drama, preparing for his monologue. And then it comes. He’s yelling at you, frustration and worry bubbling up to the surface.

“What are you doing to yourself? Why are you so determined to self-destruct?!” he demands. “You eat like garbage, you barely sleep, you pass out at random hours of the morning, and now you’re drinking like you’re on some kind of mission to obliterate your liver!”

You can’t take it anymore. His words break something inside you, and you just… fall apart. Tears stream down your face, and you sob, unable to hold it together any longer.

Vil immediately stops pacing, his expression softening in an instant. He crouches down in front of you, gently resting his hands on your shoulders. “Why are you crying?” he asks, his voice now quiet, almost tender.

You try to explain between hiccupping sobs. “My laptop—it’s gone. I… I worked so hard, and now it’s all gone. Someone stole it.”

Without hesitation, Vil pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice soothing. “We’ll figure it out.” He holds you like he can somehow undo the theft, like he can bring back what’s lost just by being there. And in that moment, you cling to him, sobbing into his shoulder as if the world could collapse around you and it wouldn’t matter because he’s holding you together.

You wake up hours later, still curled up on the couch, with a hangover so brutal it could bring empires to their knees. But something’s off. You realize you’re not just lying on the couch—no, you’re lying on someone’s lap.

You blink and look up. Vil’s sitting there, talking softly on the phone, one hand gently patting your head. You try to make sense of it, but the pounding in your skull makes that nearly impossible.

“No, Rook, I don’t care how you do it. Just find it.” Vil says into the phone, his hand still idly resting on your head. He doesn’t seem too concerned about you waking up—if anything, he seems almost like he’s daring you to go back to sleep.

And you do.

The next time you wake up, it’s to the world’s loudest human: Rook Hunt.

“Ah, mon ami, I come bearing treasures!” he announces as he swoops into the room, a grin plastered across his face. In his hands? Your laptop.

You sit up, blinking in disbelief. “What…? How did you get my laptop?”

Rook flashes you a sly smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Ah, it was no small feat, but for Vil’s amour—”

“Rook!” Vil snaps, cutting him off with a glare that could freeze fire. “That’s enough.”

You look between them, still not fully understanding what just happened, but you’re too relieved to care. You practically leap off the couch and grab your laptop, hugging it to your chest like it’s your long-lost child.

Before you can stop yourself, you turn and hug Rook, then Vil, a huge grin spreading across your face. Then, in a moment of pure, unfiltered gratitude, you kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Vil blinks, momentarily stunned by the gesture, but before he can say anything, you’re already dashing back to your room to finish your assignment.

As you shut the door, you can hear Rook’s laughter from the other side.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters to himself, but there’s a warmth in his eyes. Maybe you are a walking disaster, a self-destructive potato. But you’re his favorite potato.

It’s finally the end of the semester, and a little notification pops up on your phone: Housing Applications Now Open.

If you apply now, you could get your old dorm back—no housemate, no interruptions, just you and your tragic life decisions. No one telling you to eat healthy or waking you up at ungodly hours over insect-related emergencies. Just you, alone, in your beautifully chaotic mess. And Vil? He’d probably go back to wherever he was before, maybe with someone like Rook who actually knows how to behave like a normal person.

You should be thrilled by this prospect. A whole apartment to yourself again. But instead, your stomach is doing weird somersaults, and not the normal “I forgot to eat breakfast” ones. This feels... different. Kind of like the time you ate that suspicious leftover curry, except this time it’s your heart that feels like it’s about to implode.

Oh. Oh no.

You sit there for a solid 10 minutes, staring at the housing application, feeling something suspiciously like heartbreak. And being the impulsive disaster that you are, you decide the best thing to do is to blurt out your feelings without any consideration for how unhinged it might sound.

So when Vil comes home, looking elegant and put-together as always, ready to greet you with his usual "Good evening..." you don’t even let him finish. You jump up, and before you can second-guess yourself, you blurt out, "I’m in love with you. Deeply. Hopelessly. In love."

Vil freezes mid-step, his eyebrows shooting up so fast they might actually fly off his face. There’s a solid beat of silence as he processes what you just said.

“…Excuse me?” He blinks, looking like you just told him you set the kitchen on fire again. “What did you just say?”

You gulp but there’s no backing out now. You’ve committed. “I said I’m in love with you. Like... seriously. I think you might’ve ruined me for life.”

Vil stares at you, and for a second, you’re terrified that you’ve broken him. But then—he laughs. He laughs so hard he doubles over, clutching his sides like you just told the world’s best joke.

You blink, baffled. “Uh... you good?”

Vil wipes at the corner of his eyes, still chuckling. “Oh, potato…” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head, amusement still dancing in his eyes. “I love you too, you ridiculous creature.”

“Wait, what?” Now it’s your turn to stare in shock.

Vil sighs, but there’s a fond smile on his lips. “I was going to ask if you wanted to room together again next semester. But, you know... in a better apartment. One without bugs or whatever demons this place keeps spawning.”

You blink once, twice, processing his words. He wanted to room with you again? In a better place? Your heart does a little flip in your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you’re grinning like an idiot. “Oh, hell yeah.”

Without thinking, you pull him close and kiss him. It’s quick and impulsive, but somehow it feels right. When you pull back, you find Vil smiling at you with something soft in his eyes, like he’s genuinely content.

“Maybe I don’t wanna die young after all,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

Vil raises an eyebrow, his smile widening. “That’s a start. Now, go drink some water before you pass out from dehydration.”

You laugh, content for the first time in forever. Maybe this whole “life” thing wasn’t so bad after all. At least, not when you had Vil by your side.

Masterlist

guys I promise I don't hate neige I just hated the VDC ending I wanted to off myself fr

[moonsaver]

I’m just imagining the arranged marriage thing but this time it’s Sunday who is head over heels for reader (maybe he was the one who set this up in the first place! This could also tie into reader being higher status but Sunday does something to make them fall and then saves them by entering a relationship with the head of the oak family) but reader doesn’t like him or is into someone else, the angst….i feel like Sunday would do everything to make them love him but it just won’t work so in the end he just begs them to at least pretend they love him and that’ll be enough. A happier prompt on this could be he does actually succeed in getting some of their genuine love in the end. Anyway just thought of this after seeing a clip of Aqua and Akane from oshi no ko. Don’t judge me.

Okay, tons of possibilities here so lets go turn by turn because i really like this idea and unfortunately let it marinate for way too long

And it might have become unintentionally yandere, so i might redo it lol + there's not much fluff.

1 . Sunday arranging the marriage himself because he really likes reader – normal au

Sunday would definitely do this if he was pushed to his wits’ end. If his feelings for you not only disintegrate, but instead worsen and delve deeper, and on top of that, if he senses you yourself are drifting away from him. The added pressure of not reaching you in time after a conclusion to his own feelings is scary to him. In his desperation, he might as well pull some or the other reason out of his ass to marry you, even going as far as to even bribe your parents/guardians or anyone who has the power to object on your behalf.

Negotiations, contract handling, etc.. are all planned by him, so if you have a problem or you want to object, you can only do it by directly confronting Sunday himself. The added intimidation of his knowing, mysterious smile when he stands before you, almost irking you to continue in silence when you hesitate at wanting to object is something he almost relishes. Any problem you might have, has to be directly communicated to Sunday.

In the actual marriage? He's much easier on you. The hard part of coercing you into the marriage was over. He allows you more freedom in the marriage than he does outside of it.

He allows you separate rooms, reigns in any affections for you until you're comfortable, and even openly lets you know you two won't have to immediately consummate your marriage. He'll generally make sure you're comfortable in your marriage.

Of course, deviations and exceptions occur if you happen to still have lingering feelings for.. some nobody. He's bitter about it, so so bitter you can feel the tension in the air when his smile slightly falters at even the mention of their name. Sunday might try to hasten the process of you getting “comfortable” and perhaps even start forcing a few affections on you, such as kissing or holding your hand, brushing your hair in the morning and before bed, lingering his eyes on your lips. He might even not so subtly try to pressurise you, by telling you things like “at this rate, many might not even think we are married, my dear”. 

He plays slightly dirty, but there's so many moments of clarity that he hesitates still. He doesn't want to force you to love him - he wants it to happen on it's own. He's often so loving to you from afar in hopes you'll notice and maybe even return them, but when you look away in anxiousness or discomfort, Sunday's smile falters into a resigned, solemn expression. It hurts, deeply.

2. Sunday arranges the marriage with a reader of higher rank

Its similar, but you'll find the process is hastier. Perhaps it even causes a few slip ups in the middle.

Sunday would be practically tearing at his own hair before he finds the key to catalyze the negotiations of your marriage with him. If it's something that happens to knock you down or push you into unfavourable circumstances, he hesitates. But if you happen to like someone else? All that hesitation vaporises in an instant. He's practically over the moon when you have no one to turn to, his hand is almost shaking from excitement when he reaches it out to you. 

He's much more.. smothering if it makes sense, but he's not outright/direct about it. He always wants to be wherever you are, sometimes stands too close for comfort beside you, and even puts you in circumstances where you won't necessarily be able to push back in the case you damage your already fragile image or so. He's so elated, it's almost creepy. If you don't seem to be driving the relationship, or remain stagnant, his suspicions will grow immensely regarding your feelings for anyone else. Whenever you aren't present, he probably rifles through your belongings, scours for any possibility of traces of that nobody in your life.

He insists on spending the night with you – a familiar knock at the exact same time almost every night on your room's door. He stays with you, talking until it's late at night and you're too tired to shoo him away. But he'd never think himself superior than you, rather he almost takes advantage of it. He's constantly telling you how much incharge of the relationship you are. He disguises choices he wants to make on your behalf as something you can decide on. “Would you like a separate room for us both, or would you like us to have connected doorways?” , “shall I spend the morning with you, or the night?” , or so on. Not doing anything with him makes him sour, but he hides it with a smile. Sooner or later your plans are sabotaged, and in the end he joins you in “fixing” them anyway, and well.. since he's already been here for so long, it won't hurt to have him stick by until the end of it, right?

In some extreme cases, maybe one where the reader is desperately trying to leave the marriage or push back against anything that solidifies it, Sunday might even insist that you two consummate as fast as possible, regarding it as something necessary or even vital. He's so persistent about what he wants from you, like a dog begging and whimpering, that you're practically coerced into giving it to him.

He often poses himself on his knees to you, and stares so tenderly at you, you might crack. It hurts to not give him what he wants. There's times where begging words almost slip out of his mouth when he has to pull you closer. He wants your love so desperately it hurts.

[shadowsndaisies]

dogfighting 101: 04 - 'nix is sick of this shit

wc: 595

synopsis: phoenix prides herself on knowing almost everything pertinent, it's the parts she doesn't know that leaves her on edge.

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athena-verse master post

a/n: the support with this universe has been incredible, thank you all so much, i really enjoy being able to write shorter pieces as an outlet while working on my 10k an update longer series. (ps: taglist is still open!)

“Okay. What the hell is going on?” Natasha's voice is firm.

Bob to his credit seems a little anxious from where he's stood a few feet behind her. He's obviously trying to respect your privacy, but something tells you he's also there to be a witness for whatever this confrontation was about.

“You're going to have to specify Phoenix,” you tell her flatly.

You were sat on a bench in the locker room, redoing your hair before your next run. You’d needed a moment to splash some water on your face and refocus. Bob and ‘Nix were still in their gear as well, they were next on the rotation.

“Where do I even start? You and Rooster? Him and Maverick? How about Harvard and Yale’s attitude too?” she huffs and you meet her gaze challengingly.

“Don’t worry about it,” is all you offer in response.

Natasha lets out a groan, and Bob winces. “Well it's too late for that!” she huffs, very clearly annoyed.

“Leave it alone, ‘Nix,” you tell her, tone serious.

“No! I have never heard you shout at someone like that, especially not while in the air! Honestly, I’ve never heard Rooster get that wound up either! What the fuck is going on?”

“Seriously, Nat, just drop it,” you tell her, shaking your head.

“I can't! I won’t! I’m going on this mission Athena, you know it and I know it. I don't know why Hangman only ever listens to you, or why he leaves every one else out to dry, but I do not want him leading that team. I need it to be you and Rooster. But if you and Rooster can't fucking get along we're all screwed.”

You frown at her and you understand where she's coming from, but part of you can’t help but stay closed off, especially about this. “Nat, we don't have the time, and honestly… honestly it’s none of your business,” you say voice firm.

The look in her eye turns hard, but you stand your ground. You’d always been able to give it to each other straight, calling the other out when necessary, and drawing hard lines when needed. This was one of those times.

“This isn’t like you, and it’s not like Rooster and there’s something going on that you’re both ignoring,” she decides.

There’s a lot we’re ignoring, you want to say. “Let it go, Trace. Final warning,” you say instead, you’re honestly not entirely sure what will happen if she keeps pushing, you’re not sure you want to see who would win in a battle of wills between the two of you, you know you both will get hurt in the process.

She seems to have the same realization because instead of pushing further, she lets out another groan, “This isn’t over!” she shouts as she stomps off, a bashful Bob in tow.

“I would never dream,” you mutter sarcastically after her, tucking your hair back up, and then heading back to the waiting room.

You want to say the cold water and redoing your hair helped, but you feel just as exhausted as you did after stalking off the tarmac leaving Bradley behind. You see him when you walk in, and his eyes focus on you. Your lips tug down and you turn looking for your next partner.

You spot Fritz still waiting by your gear, and you offer a tense smile as you pick up your vest and sling it back on.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yeah, let’s hit it,” you confirm, before following him back down to the tarmac.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

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[roseofthewind]

Furina and High-Masking Autism

A lot of people don’t know how to recognize high-masking autism because its presentation challenges many stereotypes about what autistic people are like, but Furina continues to be a perfect example of it.

It should go without saying, but I love Furina as a character and this analysis is in no way putting her down. Autism is an entirely neutral trait that carries through to adulthood, and if you have a strong negative reaction to the idea of a character you like being autistic, you have probably absorbed a lot of misconceptions about autism and have some unconscious prejudice to unpack.

In the paragraphs that follow, I am going to explain several autistic traits and give examples of how Furina displays each trait.

*thinking face on*

1. Autism is, at its core, a difference in the way the brain takes in, processes, and shares information. This can make it challenging to communicate with other people who don’t share this neurotype, but a high-masking autistic person has observed the way other people interact and spent years copying them, figuring out through trial and error how to act to best fit in and get the most positive responses from other people.

Furina’s ascension speech in Act V of the Fontaine Archon Quest, where she first presents herself to the people of Fontaine, is a great example of this observation of others with the goal of masking as well as possible. Furina initially gives the speech as comes naturally to her in a very straightforward and honest manner (also an autistic trait!). After the speech, she realizes that her citizens are responding with hostility to her humility and lack of authoritarianism, so she then plays off the original speech as a ruse and immediately redoes the entire thing more assertively according to the feedback she picked up on.

(Calm down, Furina… Think. Think. What do the people want? How would they imagine a god to speak and act?)

Fontaine AQ Act V, Chinese audio: (link starts video at 3:10:07) https://youtu.be/T-AbXi5bufk?si=eQADAWw6n8Sk0PZE&t=11407

This is the kind of social trial and error that many autistic people do over the course of years so that eventually we can say the “right thing” the first time around, and it’s a testimony to Furina’s skills as an actor that she course-corrects so quickly.

Because of all the constant mental calculations, social situations are usually very tiring for autistic people, even when the social event lines up with their interests. In Clorinde’s Story Quest, Furina has no interest in Navia’s suggestion of pulling an all-nighter to keep playing D&D (I mean, Tabletop Troupe!) and wants to go home and rest.

Furina: Huh!? Oh, um… I’m not sure I’ll have enough energy for that…

Furina has shown other signs of needing to take a break from socializing– for instance, in Lynette’s hangout event quest, Lynette gets tired of all the people at her post-performance reception and goes upstairs to a quieter room to find Furina already there.

Furina offers to give Lynette tips on the best ways to slip away from an event, and Lynette misunderstands at first and isn’t interested in Furina’s advice because she thinks Furina loves everything about the spotlight and doesn’t realize how much they have in common. This goes a long way to show just how well Furina masks her autistic traits!

Furina: I see you’ve escaped the crowds to seek refuge on the second floor. Fame can be overwhelming at first, can’t it? Perhaps you’d benefit from hearing about the experiences of a veteran celebrity such as myself?

Lynette: No thanks, I’m good. Pretty sure this’ll be my first and last time in this situation…

Furina: Hey, at least let me finish! I have top tips on dealing with belligerent reporters, slipping away to hunt down snacks during the intermission…

Lynette: …Tell me everything.

Conversely, when alone, Furina will stay up late reading or doing something else that interests her and will not feel the same need to stop and rest, because when alone, there is no need to expend extra energy worrying about socializing properly.

At the beginning of the Fontinalia Film Festival limited event story, Traveler and Paimon go to Furina’s apartment and she answers the door sounding a bit groggy.

Paimon: Did you just get up, Furina? It’s already past noon, you know…

After Traveler chastises Paimon for being rude, Paimon panics and says something nonsensical about how the weather is so nice in the afternoon and sleeping in is fine, actually, and Furina responds that she’s just a bit tired because she was up late reading:

Furina: I was just up late last night reading some novels…

When focused on an interest, it’s very easy for an autistic person to lose track of time and it can be difficult to break out of the focused state and go to bed. (This is a trait that overlaps significantly with ADHD.)

2. Alexithymia is a difficulty with identifying, processing, and expressing your own emotions, and in extreme cases presents as an almost total lack of emotion. Some degree of alexithymia is common in autistic people.

I believe, in the flashback scene below from Act V of the Fontaine Archon Quest, that Furina genuinely did not realize she was upset and did not realize she was crying, which could be explained by alexithymia.

Fontainian citizen: Are… are you crying?

(If you played this part with the English voice acting and interpreted it differently, try listening to it in Chinese- Furina’s voice sounds completely confident and in control the entire time, and it’s not until the other person points out she’s crying that Furina sounds at all upset.)

Fontaine AQ Act V, Chinese audio: (link starts video at 3:22:00) https://youtu.be/T-AbXi5bufk?si=fl8xSwkQ0rRLFPQU&t=12121

I am a believer that Furina and Focalors were originally the same person, and Focalors is just Furina’s divinity and pre-archonhood memories— so if Furina is autistic, Focalors is autistic.

While talking to Neuvillette, Focalors is extremely matter-of-fact with her explanation of her plan, very matter-of-fact about the suffering of her own human self, and very matter-of-fact about her own impending death. There is no show of emotion— she just tells Neuvillette the facts. This could be related to alexithymia, but regardless it is a very autistic way of communicating that is often misinterpreted as cold and uncaring. In actuality, someone who is willing to sacrifice their own immortality, divine power, and freedom to save other people’s lives cares a great deal, even if the tone of their voice doesn’t reflect it!

Focalors: I mean, did you think I would be the sort to enjoy peaceful repose while Furina suffered?

3. The autistic nervous system takes in a lot of information that a neurotypical person’s would filter out as not being important enough to bother with- this is why autistic people are so much more sensitive to sounds, lights, textures, and any changes in the environment. Too much sensory input can actually feel painful.

There is a documented instance of the Opera Epiclese becoming so loud that Furina was overstimulated enough to yell at everyone to be quiet.

Furthermore, post-Archon Quest, after moving out of the Palais Mermonia and into her own apartment, Furina eats primarily macaroni for an unspecified amount of time— weeks or months on end. After a huge life change, it’s common for an autistic person to want anything they can control to be the same, so their brain has more space to process everything that’s different.

There is no neurotypical explanation for eating the same food over and over to the exclusion of everything else. It makes no sense to someone who doesn’t experience overstimulation and distress at too much change. Case in point, during Furina’s Story Quest, Traveler and Paimon are rather baffled:

Traveler: …Don’t you get sick of macaroni every day?

Furina: Not at all. As long as you have different kinds of sauces in, you can have macaroni and tomato sauce one week, macaroni and bolognese the next…

Notice that Furina says “macaroni and tomato sauce one week,” implying that she’s fine with just that sauce for an entire week, and then uses a different sauce for the next entire week. Still not very much variety!

Paimon: Oh, sounds like you’re really struggling to cope… Traveler: Is it because you have to do all your own cooking now?

Yes, Furina is struggling to cope, but not because she’s incapable of learning how to cook more complex dishes! She’s just too burnt out to want to make or eat a variety of things right now. Furina explains this and Paimon doesn’t believe her, but since we know that Furina’s special dish is an even more extravagant version of La Lettre a Focalors, if Furina is capable of baking at that level, she would certainly be capable of cooking.

4. Stimming, or self-stimulatory behaviors, are repetitive actions that serve to regulate or soothe the nervous system. There are countless behaviors that can be used as stims, but some common ones are rocking back and forth, hand flapping or waving, leg bouncing, skin picking or scratching, rubbing or squeezing a comforting object, dancing, spinning in circles, humming or vocalizing, or listening to the same song on repeat for hours. (It’s worth noting that stimming is not exclusive to autism— especially when stressed neurotypical people do some of these things too. Stimming can also be commonly exhibited by people with ADHD who aren’t autistic, although there are also a significant number of people with both ADHD and autism.)

One of Furina’s idle animations and also her normal attack sequence include behaviors that can be interpreted as stimming. Furina’s idle animation with Surintendante Chevalmarin involves her holding the seahorse up, waving her around, squeezing her tightly and rubbing her face on her head. Chevalmarin is made entirely of water and loves Furina dearly, and so does not mind being cuddled like a stuffed animal.

If you use all four of Furina’s normal attacks, she spins around several times and the final attack culminates with her spinning on a bubble and swinging her sword for AOE. If you use just three of Furina’s normal attacks and do not append any additional actions, Furina spins around again before plunging the tip of her sword into the ground (I do not have a gif of this). Furina also spins around when added to your 4-character party. That’s a lot of spinning, which certainly makes it seem like a preferred stim!

5. I got this far without mentioning special interests because I have so much other evidence that I hardly need to bring it up— but since it’s a much more commonly recognized autistic trait than many of the things I discussed at the beginning, I will include this part of Furina’s teapot dialogue, which does indicate that Furina engages in special interests:

Furina pretty much defines “special interest” with the above statement: it’s something that you’re interested in (to the point that it may feel like an obsession) and you have to know everything about it!

These are just a few examples of autistic traits that Furina exhibits— there are absolutely more. Furina is shown many times to have a high level of near constant anxiety despite being someone who is confident enough to perform on stage. This anxiety could come from other sources, like c-PTSD, but it’s very common for a high-masking autistic person to have chronic anxiety from being hyper-aware of avoiding potential social blunders, repressing stimming to appear more “normal,” and dealing with the increased risk of overstimulation that comes with repressing stimming.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading! Even if you don’t agree with my interpretation of the character, I do genuinely hope you learned something about autism.

[yaekiss]

on this sinful sunday, i’m having very holy thoughts of either branding or carving my name onto childe’s skin— maybe that tummy he’s so insistent on not covering up, maybe a nice little tramp stamp. i know he’s making sure it scars, picking at the scabs and whining for you to redo them if they dare to fade away— he belongs to you!

꩜ Room Content: Dom! GN! Top! Reader x Sub! Bottom! Yan! Tartaglia, reader's dick can also be read as strap, gore + eroguro, knifeplay + blood, masochist Tartaglia, spanking (just once, on Tartaglia), terrible wound care by Tartaglia please don't follow his actions, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: Happy Whore Wednesday pulpie! Or uhhh, it was Wednesday when I started writing this. Got a lil carried away hehe :3 Happy Thotaglia Thursday! Slut on! (With you, Childe feels like every day is Thotaglia Thursday)

Anyways. Childe thinks of you as pure divinity, the holiest of beings, and he’s eager to worship all of you and bear everything that you’re willing to bless him with. Who is he to say no to the pain you inflict on him too?

This time, he’s cockwarming you, the heat and desire he feels is dizzying. You’re inside him and just the sensation of you filling him up perfectly has left him giddy with lust. His face is smushed into the mattress with his azure eyes already rolled into their sockets. Prior to this, he pressed a lavishly decorated dagger into your palm with a fervent sort of urgency, begging for you to mark him up however you like. You try to think back on what could’ve spurred this on. Was it that merchant trying to chat you up at the market the other day? Or perhaps it’s just a sick kind of longing that hangs around the ginger no matter how much time you spend together? One thing remains clear, at its core, Childe wants to be utterly and irrefutably yours.

Taking up the dagger, you admire the inlaid gemstones glinting in the lighting of the room, their colours matching the exact shade of your eyes and you’re sure that this must have cost an arm and a leg. Tracing the cold metal down the ridge of his spine, you feel him shudder, your ears picking up a soft keening whine. You start off slow, the tip of the blade breaking past skin and revealing glorious liquid crimson. Childe sucks in a breath at the delirious buzz of pain and pleasure that he’s subjected to at your hands. 

“Nghh… please I wanttt-! to be yours!” Greedy as always.

You take your time carving out your name into his flesh, revelling in just how many moans and whines you can wring out from the harbinger. Despite how muddled his senses are, he’s acutely aware of each and every searing twist and pull of the knife. Some of the warm blood trickles and drips down to where the two of you are connected and the sensation has him losing the ability to speak, brain reeling at how disgustingly intimate this whole act is. However, over time, Childe gets squirmy and twitchy with how pent-up he’s getting, the arousal in him pooling and heightening. That simply won’t do. Good boys need to stay in line while their lover is being so so so nice to them after all. With a pointed “tsk”, you land a hard smack on his ass as a warning. He yelps loudly at the impact but he gets the message, obediently staying still as you finish carving the tramp stamp. 

When you’re finally done, you pull out of him, the lack of your cock filling him up has Childe whining again but it snaps him out of his reverie. You reach over to grab a mirror and angle it so that he can see (read: marvel at) your handiwork. His eyes glint as he catches sight of the fresh cuts, the wound spelling out your name and the fact that you’ve claimed him as your devoted believer. However, he doesn’t let you go further than cleaning and disinfecting the wound site. (Secretly, he hopes that it leaves a permanent scar, an eternal pure white etched into his skin to show that he belongs to you without question.)

Throughout the whole healing process, he picks away at the scabs that try to cover the wound, opening it back up again so that your name is written in a carnal raw red. Whenever he stares at it in the bathroom mirror for too long and thinks that a certain part of it is fading away too fast without leaving a mark, he rushes to you, whining and begging for you to redo it with a frenzied tone in his voice. 

He wishes you’ll dig even deeper, maybe even push your fingers into his flesh until he’s screaming and clenching down on your cock, use his blood as lube as you fuck up into him relentlessly. The thoughts keep coming and you can’t go a full week without Childe pleading for you to lay your claim on him.

Maybe next time he’ll convince you to leave your mark on his abdomen so that everyone can see who he belongs to.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

[cliffou29]

Build bigger

Ok, so I’m sharing with you my method to buil digger in TS4.

As it is not possible to have lots larger than 64x64, I looked for a method to arrange multiple adjacent lots (with a slight overlap) in order to build multiple lots and give the illusion of having a single building.

After numerous trials and errors, many failures, periods of giving up, new attempts, I finally succeeded in doing what I wanted: modifying the "World" file of Newcrest to rearrange the 5 lots located on the right.

I created 3 layouts: one in the shape of an L, one in the shape of an M, and one in the shape of a U. You can choose according to your project. Therefore, there are 3 world files available to download :

Download here

- BG_Engagement_01L.world

- BG_Engagement_01M.world

- BG_Engagement_01U.world

I recommend downloading all 3 and storing them somewhere on your hard drive so that you can switch between layouts depending on your projects. 

How to use them :

It's quite simple: just go to the folder C:\Program Files\EA Games\The Sims 4\Data\Shared\Worlds\Areas and replace the file "BG_Engagement_01.world" with one of the three downloaded files (so you need to rename the chosen file by removing the letter indicating the layout).

Attention: for safety, save the original world file somewhere just in case...

Then, you just need to build the different lots: to have a single building, it is necessary to manage the walls at the boundaries and thus plan the construction carefully... obviously, a room cannot be overlapped between two lots (when on a lot, you can see the external envelope of the other lots but not the interior).

It's a method that can satisfy builders, but it's not really suitable for playing The Sims normally...

I heard that during updates or installation of expansions, world files can be restored. So I think that during updates, I will have to redo the process (hoping it won't break the files... but only the future will tell).

* Note: the display in the world view is not great. When the lots are built, the visuals cover up the clickable areas of each lot... so you have to experiment with the mouse, but it works :)

I hope you’ll enjoy it

[roomsofangel]

CHAPTER SEVEN

the act of holding on and letting go .ᐟ

wc 1.1k

if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated!

chapter warnings metaphor of torture. hint/talk of depression and suicidal ideation without it fully being expressed outright. y/n learns their feelings were manipulated at one point.

other with the further we get into this — the more warnings that will be more prominent — the lore and y/n uncovering everything alongside the way they all handle / go about things aren’t exactly what a healthy person would immediately go towards. ( and maybe, that one line you read in a previous chapter that didn’t seem like much, was actually a key thing for a later time x )

other 2.0 bringing my forever first baby back! i tagged those who i can remember asking to be on the taglist but no hard feelings if you want to be removed! i just deeply missed this series and it’s nowhere near done so i want to bring it back to finish it! at the moment, the masterlist was taken down so i’m in the process of redoing it so its not linked! however, click here to be directed to my old blog and the intro for this work! it’s all my work, i just moved over when that blog got shadowbanned!

“you’re absolutely fucking insane if you think i’d just sit here after hearing the stunt he pulled—“

seonghwa’s pitch and tone could make any grown man cower into submission, tears swelled up in their eyes while asking if he wanted them to bleed on his shoes or in his hands, seonghwa stared ahead focusing on hongjoong who was only speechless — how could you run into the arms that put you in harms way?

well, if he looked at it through an outsider point of view, that’s what you did with seonghwa constantly.

something told hongjoong you didn’t go to san with seductive undertones, that just wasn’t you. in every life, you still held the same morals. it was something he knew would never change.

“why did they go?” seonghwa’s voice began to lower, softly raspy when his emotions began fully processing, allowing himself to sit on the armrest chair and put his head in his hands, pushing his hair out of his face that draped over his forehead, “was it my fault?”

hongjoong shook his head, “though, i really want to say it is,” he coughed, attempting to cover the laugh he wanted to let out because he knew it wasn’t a comedic matter. “has anyone seen them?” he changed the subject, his skin crawling with unease after noticing the suffocating silence with himself and seonghwa in his living room

“besides san?” seonghwa sneered, fixing his posture before standing, dusting off imaginary dirt from his clothes, “i have to pay a visit to cupid,” he scoffed

hongjoong followed alongside, “something tells me this isn’t a usual business call,” he amused while catching up with seonghwa’s pace who made his way to the door, swiftly grabbing his car keys that hung from the wall storage hooks, “san knows all about those.”

seonghwa stopped for a moment, glancing over his shoulder to shake his head, though, his small peeking smile showed he found the reference amusing — opening the door, he swallowed his nerves.

he wanted to trust you. but how could he when you were surrounded by people he didn’t?

‎

‎

‎

‎

the room was cold, goosebumps illuminating each part of your skin that was more exposed than the other — you curled up on the couch with a heavy weighted blanket and a mug of hot chocolate — wooyoung only seemed to have a sweet taste, everything he owned in the food department was a major hint at his severe sweet tooth

you learned wooyoung was the god of love — though, most humans knew him as cupid despite some not fully believing on his reliability and existence, he seemed warm and inviting. he made sure you changed clothes and let you keep the dagger you swiped, clutched next to you.

it didn’t make sense that wooyoung was considered an enemy.

recalling san saying he met wooyoung however, had alarms going off in your head — what was his involvement? san never elaborated on the so called help.

but it was enough for him to be punished. how did you die the first time?

“if you keep frowning like that you’ll have wrinkles,” wooyoung prompted, taking a seat across from you with a strawberry cupcake in his hand, “at least, that’s what humans say — i never had any.”

you scoffed, biting back your laugh, “how lucky you must be.”

he nodded, smiling, “i mean, yn, i’m stuck as twenty three forever,” he kept a light hearted tone and facade, but you saw through it.

his eyes screamed of something you could recall as despair — desperate for an ending, he was tired. anyone with two eyes that struggled with choosing if they should stay or go, could see he was holding on by a thread.

because right now, wooyoung may have had the brightest smile — but you saw he also had the most saddest eyes.

“how did you get involved in this?” you asked, tone soft — you hoped you didn’t overstep a boundary, but wooyoung looked back at you with understanding

clearing his throat, “san told you he came to me, didn’t he?” he amused

you nodded in response.

“it was inevitable really, if san didn’t drag me in, one of the others would’ve,” he sighed, cleaning his fingers with his lips and tongue from the frosting excess of the cupcake he finished, “i felt bad for him, he was desperate for love and specifically from you.”

frowning, heart swelling, you knew if you were going to get the full story, you had to get your hands dirty and go to those who were all involved

it wasn’t smart in a sense — but with everyone telling different sides and their point of views, it was your job to pin point the consistency and bring it altogether.

for your final life.

‎‎

‎

“seonghwa is looking for you,” wooyoung mentioned, helping you wash the dishes — his eyes glancing to the side you resided, wet rag in hand focusing on the mug you drank from, “i can feel he’ll be here soon,” he frowned

“with hongjoong.”

your eyes lifted, attention gained fully, “do you know how long it’ll be?”

wooyoung shook his head, “i just wanted to tell you, give a heads up,” he pressed his lips together

you could see he was holding back, the same expression of wanting to say more than he was — was evident — you understood it all too well, that was your constant default.

words left unsaid.

“tell me what you want to, wooyoung,” you turned to face him

defeated, he smiled, “you made me feel human today, y/n,” his cheeks flushed and he looked away from you, “domestic even,” he teased which earned a small laugh from you

“i don’t know if i like it yet, but it’s not a bad feeling,” he briefed, finishing the last dish, “i just… want this with someone in particular..”

now this.

this was something you didn’t expect to hear.

“is it okay if i ask who?”

wooyoung laughed, “just as nosy as me, huh?” teasing, he cleared his throat and the amusement he held faded, recognizing the one thing you noticed, wanting the one thing you could never have.

“it’ll never happen, he’s been chasing after the same person for centuries,” he shook his head, “i can be blamed though.”

“i always helped him.”

then it made sense.

if wooyoung helped someone else, you weren’t aware of such — but something told you, whoever you thought of — was that person.

“why stay?” you asked

wooyoung contemplated on admitting it, tears swelling in his eyes before he whispered, “anything is better than being alone again, y/n.”

‎

‎

‎

you sat outside the porch, the talk with wooyoung left the two of you with overwhelming emotions — they weren’t directed at each other, but towards the confession and why wooyoung even got involved.

giving him time to adjust himself, you let wooyoung shower while you stared up at the full moon that shined down on you, appearing to slowly fade— nostalgic, you smiled.

you don’t know how long you had been staying with wooyoung, assuming half a night — at least, until the sunrise.

swallowing your nerves, you attempted to gather the information you received.

san didn’t give you an exact timeline but something told you he knew — you’d gather that later.

hongjoong and you had already been best friends — every life.

seonghwa was never meant to be your lover but somehow always made it happen.

and wooyoung helped san with you.

your expressions showed your progress and you couldn’t help but audibly gasp, “that fucking asshole.”

my yn never let a man control them.

“what a hypocrite you are, choi san,” you bitterly whispered under your breath

before you could stand and let wooyoung know you should be heading out soon, your nose twitched and felt a hand wrap around your wrist to pull you back

“yn, you have explaining to do.”

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@onedumbho3 @chngbnwf

[anaslair]

I’m a straight Bengali girl (daughter of Aphrodite), who’s a little chubby and has a lot of acne scars (both of which I’m insecure about, though, I’ve been staring to like my acne scars lately). I wear glasses and without them, the world around me is very blurry. I’m pretty shy and nervous, so I sort of have trouble speaking to strangers or people I don’t know well. But once I’m comfortable around you and we mutually see each other as friends, I’m able to show you my chaotic side and feel comfortable saying some pretty wild things. I also make quite a few sexual jokes. Though I am more comfortable to speak freely with my friends, if I’m in a relatively big group that consists of my friends, I get really nervous speaking in front of all of them, so I opt to talk to individuals rather than the collective. I crave for physical affection but I never ask for it because I’ll feel bad if I get rejected of such, so I’ll wait til someone decide to give me affection. I’m a huge romantic fan and love reading romance stories or fanfic, and I love men who are completely obsessed with you. If I’m going to be honest, I feel more attracted to depressed or sad men rather than happy or cheerful men. I love eating food, but don’t really like eating in front of people much cause I always feel like I’m being judge for the way I eat even if that’s not actually the case. I can’t help it, so I prefer to eat alone. My favourite food is chicken curry and rice! I have trouble keeping eye contact so I usually look somewhere else while talking to people, but I do occasionally (while in the conversation) do make eye contact. There are times where it takes time for my brain to process some situations or dialogue, and I have an awfully memory. I also hate reading out load cause my brain takes time to process the words on the paper for me to read out load, so it makes me say the words out load slowly and almost choppy, you know? I love my friends very much and always love to hang out with them, even if we are simply in a room together only doing our own thing. I just like being in their presence. Though, once my social battery runs out, I’d like to be alone in my room (though, I I have a romantic partner, I wouldn’t mind them being with me). I’m always open to be their for my friends if they are down and listen to their problems, but not good at verbally comforting them, so I’m open for providing them physical comfort such as a hug or rubbing their back if that’s what they want. If I don’t anything embarrassing, I will constantly think about the moment for years and best myself over it and mentally redo that whole conversation or action in a way better way that I should have done to have not embarrassed myself earlier, you know? I very kind and often give people the benefit of the doubt, and I’m sort of a pushover, but I’m still able to say no to situations that make me uncomfortable.

I love reading, drawing, and creating ocs and world building. I’m such a mythology nerd, especially when it comes to Greek mythology (I have many books about these myths). I absolutely hate bugs and because of them, I hate being in forests and such cause I always get swarmed by them. I’m also afraid of the dark, so when I sleep, I leave my door open and the hallway light on.

My matchups are usually long like this so that’s why they may take a little while to come out 🥸 pls bear with me guys 🫶

Hope you like it anon!! Have a great day and tysm for requesting!!! <3

I match you with…

Luke Castellan!!

(Let’s all collectively join hands and pretend he didn’t die 🫰)

After the second titan war was officially over, Luke went through a lot before finally being able to return to camp

He did literally stab himself to end Kronos’s reign of terror, so after a long fight discussion amongst the gods, it was decided he should be given a second chance at life. A brand new start

Not without cleaning his mess first though. He was assigned by the gods to send a load of monsters he recruited for Kronos back to Tartarus, while simultaneously healing from his fatal wound

Even under Apollo’s direct care, the injury left a huge, nasty scar on his body

Honestly, he preferred facing whatever punishment Hades had for him in the Underworld than helping any god. But he owed everyone (specially Annabeth and Thalia, his real family) an apology and to make things right

So he killed a shitload of monsters, (complained the whole time)

When he finally got back to camp, he almost couldn’t believe how much it had changed. The place was PACKED with new campers (and they were not all cramped in his cabin like usual 😱)

And there were twice as many cabins too??? for the smaller gods???

Was he at the right place?😀 Was he actually dead?🧍‍♂️

Took a lot of explaining for him to believe he wasn’t

The thought of demigods not having to go through what he went through was incredible, but hard to believe

A bit bittersweet for him too

On top of that, it took a lot of time and effort to regain everyone’s trust on him

Even with all the new space available in the Hermes cabin, he had to sleep on the ground for a long time before his siblings let him have a bed 💀

He had to prove himself for a long time before everyone started opening up to him again

Slowly but surely, it started to happen!! Annabeth and most of the campers got back to speaking terms with him, Thalia visited sometimes and Percy was still a little sus every time they interacted (specially when Annabeth was in the room🤷‍♀️) but it eventually got better

It wasn’t the same as before of course, which made him feel…lonely most of the time. It wasn’t perfect, but he was grateful for at least not being completely ignored

Travis and Connor even stole a new pillow for him after a while of him sleeping without any 👏

Soon enough, life was almost normal again (as normal as a demigod’s life could get)

He did live with an imense sense of guilt and had recurring nightmares about what happened, accompanied with sharp pains on his chest, right where he stabbed himself

But it was a small price to pay for all the pain he caused, he thought

Eventually, he became head counselor of the Herme’s cabin again and Chiron gave him permission to teach sword lessons to the newest campers.

Life was as good as it could get for him, for sure

Though it definitely got a million times better with you in it

You were one of the new campers, practically Luke’s age when you arrived, which got yourself urgent self defense lessons with Mr. Castellan himself

He was the ideal person for the job, being the best swordsman on camp and all

Chiron also knew Luke had a way of making newcomers feel welcomed, being used to do it with practically every new kid in camp before the war

So, as Luke made his way to your first lesson, he tried to come up with a way to politely ask you how you survived all this time without proper training-

Only to give it up as soon as he laid his eyes on you

Of course you were a daughter of Aphrodite, you were drop dead gorgeous. Probably survived all this time outside camp by using the power her kids inherited, charmspeak

All of that was going through his head while he intensely stared at you without saying a word 🗿

Making you nervously eye him back 👁️👁️

Noticing you were getting anxious, he snapped out of it, the very tip of his ears getting slightly red

Quickly introducing himself as your new self defense teacher, he offered a hand for you to shake

To which you did after a bit of an awkward pause, nodding at his words. He seemed like a confident, nice guy

He took it you were a bit shy so he made sure to try and not to make you uncomfortable while teaching you some basic sword moves and techniques

You were doing your best to keep up but honestly felt like straight up dying everytime Luke asked you to repeat a move

The sword was heavy and the afternoon was hot, making you sweat profusely

That’s when everything went downhill :)

Your glasses just wouldn’t stay still in your face, the sweat making them slip down your nose every time you tried a new move

Right as you were about to swing your sword for the millionth time, your glasses fully fell off your face, making you flail the big weapon around uncontrollably

Coincidentally chopping a good amount of Chiron’s tail off, who was just passing by to check on your progress

Chiron promised he needed a new trim anyway, but that didn’t stop you from apologizing almost a thousand times and sitting down with your face buried in your hands

The situation amused Luke profusely, but he could also tell you were seriously beating yourself up about it

So after thinking for a while, he gently tapped you on the arm, showing you small scar he had on his forearm

He told you it was from his first ever sword lesson, but it wasn’t caused by a sword

When you gave him a confused look, he told you it was a consequence of accidentally poking a Pegasus’s bottom with a sharp weapon

You tried not to, but you laughed right at his face

Which made Luke smile as well, you had a cute laugh

After that, you slowly started opening up to your sword teacher, who actually got attached to you pretty quickly

Y’alls friendship was honestly precious oml, he absolutely LIVED for the fact that you were completely unhinged when y’all were alone, which got both of you a lot of inside jokes

When you first made a sexual joke in front of him he was completely shook

You were in the middle of training, making him accidentally cut a whole training doll in half after you said it

Who knew that something like that could come out of a shy person like yourself

He laughed and threw a dirty joke right back at you, but his ears were completely red in the process

The first time he had one of his pain streaks next to you he got really stressed out, not really wanting to talk about the origin of his injury

Partially because it was tremendously hard for him to talk about his past, but also because he was afraid you’d hate him for it

But you never pressured him to say anything, just sat beside him with a hand on his back for support, furrowed brows in concern as you waited for his pain to pass

He absolutely adored you for that

He didn’t feel alone anymore

He’s a naturally attentive person so he can always tell when you’re uncomfortable in social situations, always making sure that everything you’re saying is getting the correct amount of attention, even if he was the only one listening to it

Everyone knew he kind of had a soft spot for you (totally unrelated to the crush he was developing on you)

He always went easy on you at sparring lessons, just to absolutely humiliate whoever was next against him by winning in seconds

He sneaked food into your cabin when you absolutely could not stand eating with everyone else at the dining pavilion

(anyone else would probably get caught in the act and get absolutely wrecked by the harpies, but he was a son of the god of thieves so 😋)

Kept you close during capture the flag, not only to keep an eye on you but also because he absolutely LIVED for the fact that you were more scared of the bugs than the monsters who lived inside the woods

You dealt with the monsters and he jabbed all the bugs on the way, you made a pretty good team

It was pretty obvious he had a thing for you, everyone knew about it but you apparently

I mean, he stole got you a whole deck of mythomagic cards because he knew you were totally obsessed with mythology, the guy was pretty much down bad for you pls 😩

And honestly, you felt the exact same way

It was pretty clear in the way your face got full on red every time he had any type of physical contact with you

He adored it and absolutely did it on purpose just to get a reaction out of you

He wanted to let you know how he felt, he really did

But on top of not wanting to risk your friendship, he was deathly afraid you’d absolutely despise him after you found out about his past

It was only a matter of time anyway, but he was going to avoid it as much as he could

Although you found out way sooner and it went WAY better than he expected

It was a warm night and you were awfully quiet, more than usual

It wasn’t because your social battery went out. No… he knew something was up by the way you hugged yourself tightly, touching your face from time to time

He asked if you wanted to hang out by the beach for a bit, to which you silently agreed

Y’all sat in silence for a while, Luke giving you concerned side eyes from time to time

He eventually spoke up, saying you could talk to him about anything you wanted to, he’d listen

Your eyes watered a bit. You breathed out and eventually told him that some days, you had a bit of trouble accepting your current weight and your acne scars

You told him you were working on it but some days were harder than others

Honestly, he was bamboozled lol

He could never imagine someone as beautiful as you had those kind of insecurities

Before even thinking about it, he said you were absolutely perfect in his eyes

It was the first thing he thought when he met you actually

You almost choked on air bro WHAT

Your face was COMPLETELY red, about to explode🚨

Ears fully red after realizing how he slipped, he quickly continued, telling you that he also understood how you felt

He touched the scar he had on his face, lowering his hand to touch the one on his chest right after

You knew something bad had happened to him. But you also knew he had to tell you on his own terms

You just softly repeated what he told you

“You can talk to me about anything you want to, I’ll listen”

His eyes met yours and you were surprised by how much sadness they held in that moment

He shifted his gaze from you to the sand, taking handfulls of it just to let it fall from his fingers as he told you about his past

He told you everything

“You can… cut contact with me if you want to, I’ll understand-“

He was suddenly interrupted by you hugging him

He was surprised to say the least, arms slowly closing around you after some time as he let out a shaky breath

You both sat like that for a while before you told him that none of what he said changed the way you felt about him, everyone deserved a second chance

Wait

The way… you felt about him?

Oop

He pulled apart from you gently, still holding you close in front of him

“Exactly how do you feel about me?”

You had no choice but to confess, face fully red and straight up stuttering the whole time

He smile was HUGE oh my gods that little shit was enjoying every second of it

When you finished, you were trembling a bit, afraid you just ruined the best friendship you ever had

Imagine your surprise when he slowly leaned in, kissing you

[cupidjyu]

hey hey <3 if u can’t do this request it’s ok ! if u can and your free could u be able to make a younghoon fluff abt younghoon coming back home and seeing the reader struggle doing her braids and is having a breakdown and he comforts her by helping her do it and he messes up the entire time making her laugh and in the end he also reminds her how beautiful her hair is and they cuddle

i'm really trying...!

younghoon x reader (request hehe ty anon for the cute idea!)

genre: head massages, playful and gentle younghoon, cuddling, hugging notes: this idea is literally cutest TT and i do tend to struggle with my hair a lot LOL i hope you liked this! though we all have different hair types, i tried my best :) word count: 0.7k

you huffed at the mirror, pulling at your hair harshly. you winced at the slight pain on your scalp but at this point, that was the least of your problems. you hated how uncooperative your hair always was.

to put it simply, you had seen the cutest hairstyle online. the only problem was that it involved doing your hair in braids. the more you tried, the more tired your arms would feel and the messier your hair would get.

you grumbled more at your reflection. you were so focused on your hair that you hadn’t noticed that younghoon had already come home from work.

-

younghoon brushed a hand through his hair, sighing tiredly. but, he smiled brightly when he remembered that you must be home too so he put down his bag and opened the door to the room. you were sitting, pouting angrily at yourself in the reflection.

when you spotted him in the mirror, you turned around in surprise, “y-you’re home early!” you nervously spoke, immediately schooling your harsh expression into a smile.

“i am,” he smiled, going to sit next to you on the bed. he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his side. he looked at you fondly, “and what were you doing? you looked upset just then.”

“oh you know…” and embarrassingly, you felt tears sting your eyes with frustration. “it’s stupid.”

“hey,” he brushed a strand out of your face softly, his finger grazing your skin. “it’s not stupid. tell me.”

you stared with hesitation before ultimately sighing.

“i just wanted to try to do my hair up in braids,” you slowly explained. “but i didn’t know how hard it would be… i’ve been struggling for an hour already!” you looked away, slightly embarrassed.

he processed your words before smiling fondly and pulling you into a firm hug, letting you melt in his arms.

“if you want…” he started. “i can try to help?”

you pulled away and looked at him with excitement, “really?”

“of course, anything for you,” he gently spoke. you smiled dearly at him, making his heart soar. and so, he now was sitting behind you as he parted your hair carefully.

you loved the feeling of his fingers against your scalp. it felt so nice that you could almost fall asleep against him. 

younghoon could sense your drowsiness as he pressed a light kiss to the top of your head, making you giggle. he started to braid your hair after.

at least… he tried to?

he was horrible at it. he kept on flipping the wrong strand, severely tangling it. or, his fingers would get caught in your hair, making him tug quite painfully. he would comb through your hair to try to redo it.

but again, he would make the same exact mistakes.

“uh,” he laughed awkwardly. you glanced back at him with amusement.

“you can’t do it either can you?” you teased.

“i’m really trying!” he whined, pouting. “i promise.”

you couldn’t help but laugh so hard that there were tears in your eyes, making him flush with mortification.

“please, i’ll get it, just give me a sec…”

“no, no,” you grasped his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. “it’s fine.”

“are you sure?” he looked at you with puppy eyes. you laughed more and nodded. and then a smirk appeared on his lips. “well, it’s fine.”

“hm?”

“because you look beautiful no matter what hairstyle.”

you felt your face flush and you moved to shove him, “don’t be a flirt.”

“it’s the truth,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek, wrapping his arms around your middle, pulling your back against his chest. “your hair, everything about you… so pretty.”

you stuttered, staring at him with utter shock. and much to your (not really) surprise, he tackled you down against the bed, wrapping his body over yours.

he brushed your hair out of your face again, smiling affectionately. “i’m tired, wanna cuddle?” he asked.

you furrowed your eyebrows, “we already are.”

“you’re right,” and then he nuzzled closer. he fell asleep quickly as he played with your hair, running his fingers through your scalp, and massaging it slightly. you smiled, admiring his relaxed face. why tie up your hair when you had a boyfriend who could play with your hair?

"can i do your hair next?" you asked him the next day.

"pigtails?"

"great idea!" you ruffled his hair like you would a puppy, making him flush.

[illmoraineakoi]

I’M DOOOOOOONE!!!!!!

(That’s a 4 foot table btw, to give a sense of scale.)

I made accidental duplicate sides of Fancy Swoop Left Back and Fancy Swoop Right Front, as well as both sides of Broken Horn Right and a Weird Flare Back instead of a WF Front. I missed one side of Sibling Quadhorn 1 and Inward Curl, so including the WF Front I needed too, I only needed to go back to make 3 more pieces after I cut everything out.

Not bad!

All these pieces was done with just 3 yards; I had estimated I needed 4. Saving that full yard feels good, that gives me a bit more wiggle room for the cloak yardage estimation.

(I might go back to the cloak pattern and redo it again. Not sure I like it. Or maybe I’ll make one with the white minky in the full process I want to do, to see how it turns out…)

Anyway, it feels good that now I can just grab a horn pile and get to sewing while sitting on my ass in my nice comfy chair lmao. My back’s been chewing me out for the past few days.

[satorisoup]

hii ‹𝟹 im so sorry for my late reply but i have been working on my mental health, things have been pretty rough and i didn’t want to come here talking and faking everything was fine </3

your welcome. i’m sure it will always be a pleasure to read your work :3

fr fr :( . tanjiro and genya are literally the cutest??? along with muichiro. like cmon??? who can hate them 😣

yeah. there’s this region problem. crunchyroll in my country doesn’t available many anime 😒 it sucks tbh but thank you, i will try ‹𝟹

yes 🙌🏼 i can’t believe yesterday someone told me that hq wasn’t good🧍‍♀️! bokuto is a silly little boy, but i think if they got together it was because of bokuto 🤭

good luck for getting your puppy in the future 🖤🖤

fr summer can be really tough sometimes T^T hope is doing better now ‹𝟹

autumn is coming in some days ALREADY isn’t it crazy how time flies 🤯 !! and thank you so much 🥹🖤

tbh i make your words mine :’) <33

things are stressful, but hanging in here. how about you? i hope you had a fun august ‹𝟹

loads of love and hugs for you, sweetie 🫶🏼

UWAHHH HAI MA LOVE !! (ˊᵒ̴̶̷̤ ꇴ ᵒ̴̶̷̤ˋ) i must apologize for m’ late reply SOB !! m’ soso happy to see you in my inbox ehe !! >//<

SOBSOB ouh, nono !! please, i promise it’s oki !! there’s no need to apologize m’ sweets !! :< i understand sometimes things aren’t always the best, i’m just happy to see you in my inbox any time !! <3

SNIFFLE omigoodness, m’ soso sorry to hear that things haven’t been to well for you !! T^T m’ soso proud of yous for choosin’ to work on your mental health !! pwease know m’ always here if you ever need to talk, you’re an absolute delight and you deserve all of tha happiness !! <3 remember you are loved n’ cherished, always !! :<

EEEK omigoodness !! muichiro !! he is just the absolute CUTEST !! i wanna squish his little cheeks !! :< ouh, how i miss him </3 i must get a figure of him someday !! my best friend absolutely adores him ehe >//<

GASP !! crunchyroll, when i catch you !! :< m’ soso sorry crunchyroll isn’t available for yous !! T^T yes, pwease let me know how it works out for you ehe !! ^_^

OMIGOSH someone said dat haikyuu wasn’t good ?? :0 nunu !! not true !! haikyuu is tha bestest in tha whole universe methinks !! >//< ehe, for realsies !! 🥺 kou would sweep keiji off his feetsies !! ( just as he did with me teehee !! :3 )

TEEHEE mhmhm !! autumn is upon us n’ m’ SHOOO excited !! >.< time really does fly !! & YES !! m’ doing much better with tha heat, m’ currently in the process of redoing my whooole room !! tha room im moving into gets the coldest in the whole house during winter n’ fall so m’ SUPA excited ehe !! THANK YOU FOR ASKING MA SWEETS !! <3

SOBSOB i really do hope things get less stressful for yous !! just remember to take it a little at a time, i pwomise things will get better !! my august was a little all over tha place, m’ hoping september n’ october will bring along better things for tha both of us !! <3

EHE we must talk abouts mha methinks !! have you watched it ?? if you have, i must know your favorites !! >//<

i also must ask if you collect anything !! :0 manga, figures, mugs, clothes, buttons, pwease tell me all if you do !! i’d love to talk about it with you !! :>

WAHHH i hope things light up for you, ma love !! i adore our chats more than anything !! >//< m’ soso excited to be mooties with you now ehe :3 !! m’ sending you all of my bestest wishes & hugging you soso tightly !! MWUUUAH !! <3 🍓

[paraliveimaginesblog]

hi, can i ask for iori with rainflower? ❤️

Iori Suiseki:

Rainflower - realizing that you/they love them/you back.

It was an odd place to be, knowing you were in love but being unable to spit it out.

Iori didn’t know why he was hesitating, the thought of rejection was far from his mind but there were other things that were much worse to endure when you loved someone. Getting so used to have someone by your side, hearing their laugh every day, knowing that they’re looking forward to seeing you as much as you are to seeing them – and having that all taken away in the blink of an eye. No warning, no time to process such an egregious loss, you were just suddenly expected to deal with it.

No redoes, no takebacks, no chance of saying all those things that you never had the chance to say.

As he’s thinking about those reasons, he realized that it’s just as likely to happen if you weren’t together, and would that make it hurt less? Would never knowing the taste of your lips make it better? Never having those hushed whispers and giggles as you wake up next to each other, exchanging kisses and fighting desperately to get out of bed? If he had none of that to lose, would that make it better?

Or perhaps he was just doubting it. Doubting you. Doubting love.

Noon rolled around and Iori still hadn’t gotten to bed, and he needed to be awake soon to attend to something alongside Zen. He let out a deep sigh as he stared at the ceiling of his room, no intricate patterns to  sift through. He was left with his thoughts, and they would continue to pester him until he made an actual decision on you. On whether to rectify the cold-hearted mistake he had made the previous night that had chased you away from him.  

“Knock knock!” Rather than performing the action a voice floats through the door to his room, Iori’s attention grabbed immediately; he sat up in bed, glancing at his phone to assure he still had an hour before Zen’s wake up call would come. Who else would it be…?

“Come in!”

“Good morning! I brought breakfast, it’s in the kitchen~ I told the boys which one was yours but I can’t guarantee it’ll be there if you don’t get your butt up soon.”

Iori must look slack jawed because you’re regarding him with a very amused expression, as if the whole debacle that had happened last night… He wants to ask about it but suddenly his throat is dry, and his brain is muddled, and he doesn’t know how to breathe anymore.

“Yeah, you were a huge jerk last night. But I’m sure you got no sleep because you were thinking of a proper way to apologize to me, right?”

Well, Iori certainly hadn’t gotten any sleep because of you, that was for sure.

“Anyway, we can talk about whatever… this is later. I don’t… I can’t…” You shuffled in place, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t want to lose my family no matter what. But don’t think you’ll get out of this without some groveling, Iori!”

He couldn’t help it.

He laughed.

Your words had brought him back to life again, had centered him once more. He felt the air coming back to his lungs and if he was left alone long enough, he could easily fall asleep.

Was being in your good graces really the cure for all that ailed him?

Perhaps he was more in love with you than he first thought.

[tojikai]

it was the way i hoped for toji and then rubbed my hands cackling when my wish came true and then instantly started squealing and kicking my feet for me 🥹😈

i liked seeing gojo’s perspective and while i can see now what the mind process was i still felt like he’s so dense and egotistical. i felt a little bad but it lasted about 2 minutes and then said fuck it we ball not enough to root for him so he can choke 🥰🫶🏽

baby megs putting naohoemi (i know what i said in the first ask about her being nice to yui but i was trying to be positive lmao but i couldn’t do it after reading it a second time) in her place and toji dealing the finishing blow had me smiling like the grinch and me monologuing about giving that man the sloppiest toppiest guack guack 9000 at the house 😤🤣

when n**mi said we can all fix it together i said out loud “i think tf not you trick ass bitch” bc i’m just so tired of her lmao pls exit stage left and stop inserting yourself the martyr complex is irking me

also wanted to mention that toji having money and being a present dad is so heartwarming and i love that despite mamaguro there’s room in his heart for reader (fix you put me through it at the time lmao) and the sims are so cute 🥰 since i’m a woc (black) i already imagined yui to look like the sim except for my skin and hair texture so seeing it had me like kai, your mind ☺️ but also imagining braiding her hair and putting beads in them 🥹😭

me 🤝 kai = same brain

i am highkey rooting for toji bc despite maybe seeing him as ooc may be a thought for others some part of me likes to think that he could have had that in canonverse had things been different which is why the characterization feels right for me. he’s so sweet to reader but also nasty 🤪😂 and the kids get along too so i am heavily invested in that. also when it was mentioned reader wanted three kids she already has yui and if toji is endgame then megumi is added. would she want more kids even if she had one with toji? i also want to see megumi accidentally call reader mom (despite mothergate with “n***mi”) but at the same time have both megs and toji being shocked but liking the new dynamic since reader isn’t taking anyone’s spot or icing out others

now idk if you’re going to do an epilogue for sundered or a different piece set in the au (and honestly i’m just down for the ride either way) but the way you explore the family dynamics and reveal the psychological aspects just tickles my brain so i’d like to see yui’s thoughts and perspective and just her being mommy’s little angel menace to society and delivering the karma to both of them. whether its naomi and satoru and his mom being ripped a third buttcheck bc she’s over it or just her reading them all for filth bc she knows the truth

i think to make it easier for my thoughts on each chapter i will do separate ones with slight commentary that way i don’t spam your ask box lmao (meaning i will redo reviews on each chapter bc i genuinely love talking about the fics with you! you make it fun and also you don’t get annoyed when i’m constantly standing outside your askbox or when i’m cussing out the characters on main lmfao 😂💕

i also think that ill do it for the rest of the series i’ve read from you just bc i know you’re an author im comfortable with talking to and ive been around even before permanent mark despite that being the start of reaching out. i think it’ll be fun for me and maybe to you but honestly maybe its just bc i talk a lot lmao and that we both are down bad astronomically for toji. also off topic bc this was a review and turned into a platonic confession/appreciation post but i saw you are a leo and it made my heart feel full bc my mom is a leo too lmao

- paragraph/theory aka paratheory anon

that statement abt how you feel abt satoru is just the way i feel abt him whenever i write. i just start scolding him like im not the one making him say or do those things, it's funny when i think abt it now LMAO and toji being ooc JDKSLSL that's true😭 but for me, it's bc i headcanon him as being really good w kids and family stuff. his life in jjk's just ...not the right place to show that side of him and it makes me hurt for him so bad bc where is he gonna put that soft side now😭 i enjoy writing him like that, ngl. and yui's pov would be so interesting and cute😭 depending on how it'll end, it'd be fun to see what she thinks and how she acts abt it as she grows !! anwww omg yess im a leo, that made me feel warm, paratheory anon, thanks so much 🥺♥️ your asks are always great reads<33

[darsynia]

Present Imperfect | Ch. 6 Day Four-shadowing

TONY STARK MASTERLIST | STORY MASTERLIST | PREV | NEXT

Story Summary: After losing Pepper to Extremis, Tony decides to get the shrapnel (and thus his arc reactor) removed– but he wakes up as President of the United States. Something's suspicious going on, not the least of which because his First Lady is Natasha Romanoff.

Length/Warnings: 3,500 | light sexual situations

Tags: @sobeautifullyobsessed @chickensarentcheap @themaradwrites @karimac

Excerpt:

Natasha rolls her eyes, but she catches the object she’d had hidden in her bra.

It’s his modified watch.

“Every part of you is designed to destroy me,” Tony breathes, hearing the longing in his voice and hoping she’ll interpret it as pretense for their captors. Her low, sensual laugh in response feels like revenge, but he has a comeback: when he pulls back his sleeve to hide the watch high on his forearm, he slides out the screwdriver.

“What else are you keeping in there?” she queries loudly.

Day Four-shadowing

Tony wakes to a strange warmth on his face and a strong feeling that he’s being watched. He opens his eyes to see that Natasha is watching him through sleepy eyes, and as soon as she realizes he is awake, one side of her mouth turns up into an affectionate smile.

Out of self defense, he ignores what that feels like to witness.

“You have my hand,” she whispers.

“Is that a marriage proposal? If so, I have good news,” Tony teases, mostly for the surveillance cameras. Her response is to scowl at him and slide her thumb out from under his cheek to press it against his lip. He smiles, and it’s enough like a kiss for her eyes to go wide for a split second before she snatches her hand away.

Seconds later the typical brisk knock at the door heralds Cora’s arrival to wake him up and hand over an itinerary. The press for time means Tony is halfway through breakfast before he realizes that Natasha might have woken him on purpose, to watch him wake up. 

The fake advisors at breakfast are already sullen, because he’s told them he’s not discussing the scepter’s location without the strategies and risk assessment reports he requested. 

He goes to pour syrup on the last pancake on his plate, but the carafe is empty. Tony sighs and starts eating it dry, almost dropping his fork at a crashing thump from the other side of the table.

“Let me guess: you’re not going to ask for more syrup because you’re making a ‘principled protest’ at our attempts to save the country?” It’s Darby, and he’s clearly pissed.

“We’re in an underground bunker hiding from multinational terrorists who have already killed over fifty of our citizens, and you think I’m being petulant about breakfast? Fix your priorities or go fend for yourself in the hellscape that is D.C. right now!” Tony snaps back, not adding ‘It’s not my fault you can’t browse Facebook while you’re busy betraying your country and committing several felonies, Fascist Barbie!’

He misses JARVIS, hamburgers, and the warmth of the sun, but Tony might be the most resentful that all the nicknames he’s been coming up with would blow their cover. It’s really cramping his style.

“With all due respect, Mr. President, the only person whose priorities are fucked are yours,” Darby shoots back, sarcasm dripping from the moniker. “Vice President Pierce has made it clear that--”

Tony stands so fast the chair falls over behind him. “Vice President Pierce isn’t in charge right now, unless he and the cabinet have already started the process to invoke the Twenty-Fifth Amendment? No? Do what you’re told or get out!”

This time when he gets outside the door, his Goon Escort has learned enough to step in his way and ask where he’s going, so they can perp walk him there, instead of chasing along behind. He tells them the Fake Oval, but when they get there, one of the ‘secretaries’ is in the room, a briefcase in her hand. Tony’s first thought is that they’re redoing the bugs, but does that mean they’re onto Natasha?

The three of them are still pretending he’s President, so he’s left alone in short order. Given how everything’s been escalating, he takes mental stock of what he’s been collecting, both here at his desk, and in the bedroom suite. HYDRA’s done their homework on him; there’s almost nothing that contains the kind of computer components he’d need to do real damage, but there are solvents, office supplies, and other odds and ends. The thing he doesn’t have is privacy, a place to build one of the handful of things he’s dreamed up for the confrontation ahead, but even then, there’s no reliable place to store such a thing even if he could build it. 

Tony flexes his hand into a fist before relaxing it again. No, brute force and psychological mind games are going to have to do the heavy lifting. That, and… he feigns looking for something in a drawer so he can check for the watch. 

It’s not there.

He keeps searching drawers, heart pounding. Clearly they’ve figured him out, and he’s never been the ‘sitting duck’ type, but how to warn Natasha? She’s a one woman army, but they’re underground and outnumbered by a group of people brazen enough to kidnap a fucking superhero. Tony grabs the single screwdriver he’d left in the top drawer, sliding it into his sleeve. It’s time to get the cover off of his fucking arc. At the very least, he might be able to use it to overload the security systems.

When he lifts his head, Cora Pierce is already in the room.

To cover how unnerved he is, Tony crosses his arms. “Did Darby and Team Scepter send you to get me back to the negotiating table?” His statement could sound like he’s admitting he Knows, but it’s got plausible deniability, too.

“Sir, I’m not sure you realize how much your recent trauma has affected you. It took some doing, but with my father’s help, we were able to contact a doctor from Bethesda, one of the ones who was called in to consult five years ago, at your original surgery.” Her tone is placating and calm, but it could hardly sound more sinister if she were holding a gun on him.

“Define ‘contact.’”

Cora walks into the room, loosening her body language in a clear attempt to ingratiate herself. He can actually see the evidence of her training, but only because Natasha’s so much better at it than she is.

“Doctor Kaeffost is as we speak arranging legal permission to travel to the site, but as you might imagine, even with a daytime curfew and no fly zone, the press is still intensely interested in your location.”

“Oh, I can imagine,” he murmurs. “Have you spoken to Natasha about this?”

Cora smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “With all due respect, sir, her expertise doesn’t lie in medical issues.”

He’s not supposed to antagonize her, but Tony’s been trapped in a hellscape full of incompetent idiots without computer access for days, and for some reason, this woman’s missteps are more insulting. She should know better.

“You aren’t married, are you?”

“Excuse me?” Cora is shocked enough to show how she really feels for once.

“When you know someone for a long time, when you’ve lived together, truly know them, that can be worth a hundred medical diagnoses.” The intensity in his voice is fueled by Happy Hogan. By Yinsen. By Pepper. “Attraction can grow and fade, friendships ebb and flow, but trusting someone with your heart is trusting them with your life. Natasha’s the one who’s had to watch me turn into someone she doesn’t know, helpless to get through to me.”

In going for Cora’s throat, he’s constructed a lump in his own, because none of this is a lie. The only thing different is the degree of closeness-- and haven’t they been pantomiming that for days? He had shut Nat out when Pepper died; knowing her as a keen student of human nature, Tony had been unwilling to be vulnerable around anyone who could figure out just how wrecked he really was. Everyone else had believed him when he’d said he was working through it. He hadn’t given her the chance to call him on his lie.

“Sir?”

“I should tell her I’m sorry about all of this,” he muses aloud, still caught up in his unexpected reverie. If she is where he thinks she is, he just has.

“I was married. He was killed overseas on a mission for SHIELD,” Cora says quietly.

Tony doesn’t let the rush of deep understanding show on his face, but he knows to tread carefully. He decides to go with,  “I am sorry you’ve had to break that news to me twice, Cora.”

She straightens her posture, lifts her chin, eyes glittering. “It was during deep cover. Most people think it was a car accident while we were on vacation.”

There are villains and then there are Villains, Tony thinks to himself. The question is whether both Pierces are the latter, or one of each.

“There are things I wish I’d never learned about the way governments work-- or don’t work,” Tony says, and then he chuckles ruefully. “I suppose I’ve gotten my wish, there. 

This breaks the spell, and Cora shuffles the folders in her arms, saying, “That reminds me, Kirka and Pete are almost done with their recommendations on what to say tonight, for the National Address.”

This is the first he’s heard of it, but Tony immediately understands what she’s doing. He can do it right back. “Oh good, I have some notes of my own I made about that last night, remind me to grab those before lunch?” There’s a certain triumph to watching as she blinks away her surprise at being reverse gaslit. “I need to walk off some of this stress. Point me to the direction of the First Lady, would you?”

More blinking. “Certainly, sir.”

He stays right behind her as she leaves the room. There are definitely places that he’s not allowed to go, people involved he shouldn’t know about (if he catches sight of Rumlow, he’ll know they’re done pretending), but eventually, someone’s going to get even sloppier than they already have been, and the farce will be over. Cora proves this isn’t that day when she picks up one of the landline phones and pushes a button before hanging up.

Sure enough, Natasha meets them in a hallway. She looks harried, and without even acknowledging Cora, she walks past them, tapping in the code for a locked door before opening it and gesturing for Tony to precede her. Tony pops a jaunty salute to Cora as he does so, earning him a playful shove from Natasha that is entirely justified. 

The door is solid, and as soon as it’s shut, Nat produces a dime-sized object from her pocket, setting it on the large boardroom style table for him to examine. It’s a covert listening device.

“God, another downer of a meeting. I miss our bed. Don’t you miss our bed?” Nat says in a coy voice, making her way to the only other furniture in the room, a bookcase on the far wall. She starts moving things at the bottom of a shelf for a few seconds before showing him the existing, identical bug.

“Yeah. You at the edge, legs around my hips?” Their plan had been to crush the bug already in place and speak freely, but given the way she’s put the first one she’d shown him back into her pocket, something’s changed. Tony walks over when she hops up onto the table, and shoves a chair out of the way with a single kick from her high heel. Natasha hikes her skirt up high enough to spread her legs so he can stand between them.

As soon as he does, she pulls him down to whisper in his ear, lips so close Tony has to clench his jaw not to shiver at the sensation.

“The one in my pocket is the new one from the bedroom. I’d promised them I would destroy any I found there.”

“Clever girl,” he says, just loudly and affectionately enough to cover for their furtive conversation.

“Not clever enough: they think I’ve told you everything. You name-dropped the Twenty-Fifth, and that was their code for murdering you.” Natasha lets out a long sigh and rests her head on his shoulder, and he doesn’t have the discipline not to take a long whiff of her fragrant hair.

To cover himself, he pretends it was a sucked-in breath to whisper, “Someone moved the gauntlet, so I don’t think you’re going to be able to persuade them otherwise.”

Nat straightens, shrugging off the suit jacket she’s wearing. She undoes the first three buttons of her blouse, saying loudly, “It’s a front closure today.”

“Kissing is one thing, but couldn’t anyone walk in here if they wanted to?” He’s just about to add realism by mentioning surveillance, but if they’re already questioning her loyalties, that won’t help. Instead, he follows her instructions and thumbs her bra open one-handed. 

Natasha rolls her eyes, but she catches the object she’d had hidden in her bra.

It’s his modified watch.

“Every part of you is designed to destroy me,” Tony breathes, hearing the longing in his voice and hoping she’ll interpret it as pretense for their captors. Her low, sensual laugh in response feels like revenge, but he has a comeback: when he pulls back his sleeve to hide the watch high on his forearm, he slides out the screwdriver.

“What else are you keeping in there?” she queries loudly.

Both of them are struck with the powerful urge to giggle, which would ruin the sexy scene they’re trying to portray. Nat shoves him off, doing up her shirt as he sucks in some deep breaths to prevent his silent laughter from being picked up.

“I’m serious, Tony-- I want to go home. I was talking with Secretary Pierce before he left, it sounds like they’re at their wit’s end. Would it really be so bad to explore every option?”

It’s his turn to pass along crucial information. “First Pierce, now a doctor getting ferried in from Bethesda!” Tony slams his hand down on the table for effect. “You were there on the helicarrier when Bruce was affected by that thing. Did you take the time to look at the information I hacked from SHIELD? They were developing weapons humans don’t have any counter to, no defense for. That’s the kind of Pandora’s Box America shouldn’t open again!”

Natasha’s standing now, concern etched across her face. “Are you feeling well? New gaps in your memory?” 

“There are gaps all right! I feel crippled without JARVIS. No one will show me the articles or broadcasts about the attacks! How in the hell are they even going to get this doctor to the complex without risking revealing where it is? The last thing I want is for everyone’s lives at the complex to be at risk. How many people are even here?”

They’re inflammatory questions, but mostly Tony needs her to know that someone could be on the way, someone Fury might be able to track. Especially if a suspicious HYDRA might not tell her about it. He and Natasha need to think about how many people the two of them may have to fight.

“Did you say Bethesda? They’re under quarantine! Two weeks mandatory isolation for the whole staff-- the briefing book says most of them are living in tents on the grounds, since no one’s allowed in or out,” Natasha says animatedly. As she speaks, she drags a chair away from the bookcase and faces away from him, kicking off her shoe to rest one foot on the seat of the chair. “The only way to keep most of the people here safe is to move them out through the underground tunnels near the Oval. They’d probably keep a skeleton crew only, maybe ten, fifteen people, all Need to Know.”

The sound of velcro catches Tony’s attention, despite the valuable intelligence she’s passing along to him right now. With her back turned, he can’t see what Nat is doing, but he’s sure it’s some high-tech gadget that will get them to those tunnels.

“You’d think they’d tell the President the evacuation route,” he gripes. “I’m still convinced this is either an elaborate distraction technique to keep me out of the way while my so-called Vice President makes all the decisions in my name, or the Keystone Kops of intelligence operations.”

It feels good to get that out. 

Natasha’s done with whatever it is she was doing, and she walks over, lifting herself up to kiss him lightly on the lips. Her arm is reaching up to play with his hair, he thinks, and he’ll have to steel himself against letting her know how very much he likes that. Nat can tell the difference between fake affection and real feelings, and he doesn’t want her to know how snarled up and confused his heart has become, these past days.

“Tony, darling-- it’s neither.”

There’s a sting at his neck. Tony staggers back, hand flying up to feel the needle still sticking out, as though she’d deliberately left it there to convince him that she has indeed chosen betrayal.

Natasha doesn’t move to cushion his fall, but blackness takes him before he slams to the floor at her feet.

Tony wakes strapped to a bed. The harsh red light bulbs reflect in a sinister way on the brushed aluminum ceiling, and the huge wall pipes and metal shelves that line the walls cast shadows that could hide multiple adversaries.

A quick stock of his physical state reveals that they’ve stripped him down to his pants and undershirt (the modified watch is gone, which isn’t a shock), but he notices the cover’s off his arc, which is the one improvement. It looks just as it did the morning of the surgery.

Time to test his bonds.

He’s a strong man, and they’ll have seen he’s awake by now, so Tony throws himself forward to test the strength of the straps-- but he almost falls off the bed when they provide no resistance at all. When he regains his footing, Tony finds that every single four-inch fabric strap is neatly sliced through. Was this to unnerve him? Or is it to provide a false sense of security for whoever’s watching the video feed?

The thought sends him searching the shelving in a rush, finding a bizarre conglomeration of the sorts of things a group of idiots would think spies ought to have on hand: round metal table legs, a stack of night-vision goggles, a bucket full of 9 volt batteries mixed in with USB sticks, four hand weights, a shelf full of various kinds of tape and thin rope, and, yes! three or four laptops just stacked up.

Tony forgoes looking at the rest, grabbing one of the USB sticks and the top laptop. He retreats to a corner to sit on the floor and open it up. To his complete surprise, it connects to the internet with the barest hint of a signal.

Fingers flying across the keys Data the android style, Tony loads up a terminal and SSH’s into his home computer.

“It is quite a relief to see you are alive, Sir,” JARVIS sends in response to Tony’s ‘new laptop, who dis?’ message. “Agent Romanoff requests that you forgive her deception. There is a file with the location of several pieces of your armor concealed in that room. It can be found under the title ‘Menstrual Tracker Data File.bs.’ Changing the extension to .txt should be all that’s required.”

So, not a betrayal. 

Tony can almost taste his relief. He can process everything else related to those moments when they’re done getting the fuck out of here.

Thanks, J, that will help. I’m still a very valuable needle in a pile of low-quality straw, but it’s the barn I’m concerned with right now. You want to send Mr. Nicholas Fury an encrypted message with my exact location, locked to the answer to ‘What was my Avengers Initiative welcome message?’

If JARVIS were human, this wouldn’t work, but his AI will be able to search the database of gripes Tony has subjected him to and find the one where he referred to the risk assessment Natasha had performed. The one that called Tony a ‘textbook narcissist displaying compulsive behavior, prone to self-destructive tendencies.’

“Very good, sir. Agent Romanoff would also like you to know that she’s looped the footage from your detention room, so you are free to move around. I’m detecting a tracer and must terminate this connection. Good luck, Sir.”

Tony finds the file easily, and after some thorough searching, Tony’s got both gauntlets and all the pieces of a chestpiece, a thankfully unbroken line that connects his arc reactor to all of the pieces that draw its power. Without JARVIS, his suit only responds to rudimentary gestures, but after testing those, he’s confident he’ll be able to cause trouble with what he’s got.

With that sorted, he gets back onto that laptop to set about fucking with their internal network. It doesn’t take long to connect up to the surveillance (and sure enough, there he is, passed out and strapped down), but as he scans the many available screens, Tony’s blood runs cold.

“Fuck. It’s a trap. It’s a trap, and both of us ran straight into it.”

To be continued...

[nodssalementriche]

The past week or so has been one of routine; one of cleaning inside my self and outside amidst new changes! My brother recently moved out, so Mel and I are taking over his old room, which was my old room. We’ve been redoing it, and are currently still in the process. All we’ve really done is paint it, pull up all of the staples, rip up the carpet and well now that I say this, I guess we’ve done a lot!!

But we still have a long way to go, and I really am enjoying the process of being in a process if that makes sense. Since it’s bigger than just one project (but still part of ONE larger one) it allows for a lot of internal growth honestly. A lot of time spent doing monotonous tasks with a lot of room to think. I really like the routine of thinking I like sitting down and going through stuff, writing stuff down… brain dumping if you will!

I really enjoy having intentional conversations with myself. I think it allows for a lot of thoughts and ideas that are less likely to occur organically (now[there is no telling of a future]).

That being said, I am no stranger to overthinking, and its larger clouded web from having too much time in my head.

Not because I’m necessarily fixated with anxiety on one thing, but because it’s just so easy to sort of have thinking be a vessel for spiraling into unneeded anxieties.

So yes, just overthinking- overstimulating your brain.

So then those monotonous tasks, like pulling up staples, and like painting a room, they can cause so much room for that overthought. I’ve really been trying to use those moments as an opportunity to exercise some mental skills of being present. And I think that being present is a constant struggle or area of work for any person. That it is the largest struggle for purpose. So I try to take the overthought, the lapses, with grace and consideration for my Self. And ironically, a lot of being present is just turning that off completely. But it’s a 2 3 4 5 6 7 step process. (So then come in the grace and consideration)

It was nice because I was able to come back to myself and say OK. I am pulling up staples right now. This is how much pressure I am using. This is where I am putting the staple. This is what the staple looks like. It is kind of like those grounding methods of five things you can see, naming all the red objects in the room, that sort of thing.

And since I’ve just been, you know, holed up working on moving stuff, folding clothes, re-organizing things, and what not, it’s been allowing me to be so much more grateful for the time I spend outside. That coupled with the fatigue that comes with manual labor. I’ve just enjoyed being more calm, I guess.

I’m going to continue to try to apply this until it hopefully becomes more innate again, but I’m trying to enjoy the entire journey; and I am.

As I’ve been typing this, I’ve actually been doing speech to text (coming back in to edit out all the technological errors) while on a walk with my dog. I’m gonna go and enjoy the air with her, enjoy the sun with her. Enjoy the birds, enjoy the grass. I hope everyone takes care.