#i already have a design in mind for him to... oh no.... the brain rot.....

[floralovebot]

recently i've been a little obsessed with the character designs in dislyte and naturally i've been thinking of the winx in it and like,,, helia blessed by morrigan... dudes.....

[cursedcola]

Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul (Here) | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: Putting all my brain rot from my notes into something cohesive. Contrary to my love for ripping your hearts out, I've come with some fluff this time around. BTW you may or may not already do things mentioned - I write my works with a specific Yuu in mind for each character so this is based on them. Just a reminder.

Habits you steal:

Plan-Books (Inherited) : Riddle habitually carries a planner with all his tasks. A physical one, not an app in his cell phone like most students choose. You find it easier to manage and swap to paper-and-pen alternatives at his recommendation.

Tidiness (Inherited): Riddle is a nit-pickier when it comes to physical presentation. His habits of pressing his uniform, laying his clothes out every night, and dressing conservatively rub off. He has a point - ironed trousers do make a difference. Every morning he will redo your uniform tie. It's never knotted to his 'standard', and is his preferred excuse to greet you before class.

"Now, isn't that better? Surely you are more comfortable in ironed linens than those rags you'd been wearing as pajamas. You seriously found them lying in Ramshackle? Were you not given an allowance to buy basic needs? Ridiculous! The Headmaster's irresponsibility holds no bounds!" <- Utterly appalled that you've been sleeping in century-old robes. He supplies you with seven sets of pajamas, a spare uniform, and an iron + board for Ramshackle. All after reaming the Headmaster for neglect in the last dorm-head meeting - either Crowley coughed up the marks or Riddle will supply from his own bank. Seven have mercy if he chooses to become a lawyer instead of a doctor.

No Heels (Developed): Riddle has a height complex. He won't make a show of it, but you wearing heels does emasculate him. Especially if you're already taller naturally. For his sake, you choose to slay your outfits in flats.

"Are those new loafers? Oh - no, they're lovely. The embroidery is exquisite and I can see why Pomefiore's Housewarden models for their brand. I merely thought you preferred the heeled saddle-shoes we saw during the past weekend trip. I must have been mistaken. Never mind me. You look wonderful."

Playing Brain Teasers (Inherited): Riddle has this thing with memory - you don't know if he's really into preventing old-age Alzheimer's or what. He carries a book of teaser games like Sudoku, etc. for when he has downtime and you eventually get into them too.

"Oh! My Rose, would you care to join me for lunch? Trey's siblings recently mailed in a large collection of cross-words. You'll find they are both educational and entertaining - hm? I do not seem the 'type' for word-games? I assure you, even I can relax on occasion. There is no need to look so surprised." <- Riddle's been making a grand effort to do things he enjoys and become more personable. Trey's siblings did not send the collection. Riddle went into town and picked it out on his own. He also found a book on organizing excursions since he's big on quality time. He is dead-set on not being a neglectful or 'boring' partner.

Swear Jar (Developed): Tired of Riddle collaring Ace for his vulgar tongue, you suggest a Heartslabyul swear jar. When the jar gets filled, the money can be used to fund things like study materials and renovations for the dorm. Riddle liked this idea, but now implements it on anyone who sets foot in the Heartslabyul. Considering you spend most of your time there, you've had to develop a vast vocabulary beyond swearing. Oh - you also unironically use the word 'fiddlesticks' now.

Habits he steals:

Useless Expenses (Inherited): You are an enabler without a doubt. Riddle has always functioned with the bare bones - with function and efficiency being the number one priority. Ever so slowly - you've spoiled him with aesthetically pleasing stationary. At first all the needless purchases felt redundant - why buy the pillowcases with flowers when plain white is cheaper? You can invest in a higher quality this way. Yet you've ruined him with gifts that he had no choice but to use. Now he needs to buy the pens with little hedgehogs on them because studying doesn't feel the same with a plain ballpoint.

Slang Dictionary (Developed): With each passing day, all the students in Heartslabyul get more creative at bending the rules. That includes you. Riddle takes it upon himself to carry a 'little-black-book' full of all the sang words he is unfamiliar with. He does want to be a bit more 'hip' to understand you more, but at the same time he wants to bust any student being a smart-mouth. It's an ongoing battle *sigh*.

"Apologies, could you repeat that term for me? Surely it must be relevant to my lecture if you and Ace are whispering. 'Let him cook'? Do you think we are in a culinary lecture?! Have you not been listening to - ah. So it's in reference to letting me finish before interrupting...One moment. I need to make a note."

Chewing Gum (Developed): This is an ode to psychology. In short, eating is tied to a person's fight-or-flight. Instincts dictate that our bodies need to be in a calm state to eat comfortably. One day when Riddle was at his wits end, you tossed him a pack of sugarless gum and told him to chew. Disregarding Trey's unholy dental screeching, Riddle develops a gum dependence for when he's stressed out. On the bright side, his jaw has never been so sharp.

“Mimicry? You must be mistaken. Even if my influence has affected their person, surely there are only positive developments” == Riddle denies any changes if confronted. In truth, he’s well aware of how much you’ve helped him grow. It’s the opposite accusation that spikes concern. Riddle does not want others thinking you’re a mini-version of him. Rumors are not kind and neither is his current reputation. Making those amends is his burden to bare. He is flattered to see you paying attention to his mannerisms, and secretly proud that your bond is strong enough to affect the psyche.

Habits you steal:

Whistling (Inherited): Trey whistles while working in the kitchen or doing general chores around the dorm. He's not very loud with it, so not may students are bothered. Since you laze about in his shadow the tunes he goes through do become repetitive. Now you do the same when cleaning up Ramshackle. Grim wants to knock you both out because he can't take it anymore.

"Ah -- How'd you know it was me in here? Just because I bake for the un-birthday parties doesn't mean I live in the kitchen, you know. My whistling? Huh. Never thought that would be my calling card but there are worse things, haha"

Head-Scratching (Inherited): Trey's got a habit of scratching the back of his head when he's uncomfortable or nervous. That, or rubbing at the nape of his neck while adverting eye contact. You start doing this too whenever you're being scolded or put in a tough situation.

Dental Hygiene (Inherited): By far the most obvious shared trait. Trey enforces his dental habits onto everyone- you are no exception. You now own four different kinds of floss, two toothbrushes (one being electric), and have a strict hygiene routine. Your pearly whites have never been so clean. Eventually you become somewhat of a secondary enforcer, policing anyone who sleeps over your dorm to take care of themselves before bed. All of Heartslabyul learns that there is no going back when you scold Riddle for not brushing after his teatime tart, and live to tell the tale.

"Hey - uh, weird question? Were you handing out floss to the Spelldrive Team yesterday? Seriously? I though Grim was pulling my leg - oh, no! It's not weird at all! Those guys should have a better routine for all the meat they eat when bulking. I'm just shocked you got through to them." <- Very proud. Mildly cocky. He's been itching to get those negligent jocks to floss after their banquets his entire tenure, but steered away from that conflict like the plague. Thank you for making his dreams come true. Now if you could maybe get them to stop picking their gums with toothpicks?

Habits he steals:

Overbuying Food (Developed): Being a baker's son, Trey's good with finances and money. He's also meticulous with the ingredients he purchases for his bakes. You are not. You go to Sam's shop, buy whatever is on sale, and then bring it back home to improvise. This ends poorly more often than not, and behold! Trey has two Ramshackle sluggers snooping around his kitchen for eats. This is unpredictable and therefore he now never knows what amount to buy. You've ruined him.

Phone Calls (Developed): Texting is easier. Especially since phone calls can be a commitment that Trey dislikes being wrapped up in. Whenever Cater's name pops up as the caller, Trey knows he's getting an ear full. The thing is that you never. answer. your. phone. Either the text gets lumped in with the hundreds of missed messages you have, or Grim stole your cell to play mobile games. So Trey gives up and only ever calls. Either Grim will answer or you'll pick up thinking it's the snooze of your alarm.

"Hello? Prefect, where are you? It's me, Trey. Just calling to see if you're still coming to the Un-Birthday party? Riddle's getting a bit nervous since the schedule's set for the next hour. Grim's already here with Ace and Deuce - uh, want Cater to send a double to pick you up? I have a sinking feeling that you're asleep...Call me? Please?" <- He was correct. You called back not a moment after, half-asleep and hauling ass not to be late.

Speaking in Propositions (Inherited): Trey's normally good at keeping neutrality in a conversation, but getting a clear answer out of Yuu you is like solving a rubix cube. Either it's easy and instant, or a long game. Eventually your habit of indecisiveness rubs off on him and he asks questions more than answers them. Evidently this gets his younger classmen to stop asking for favors unless they really need to.

“Aha - really? I didn’t notice at all. Okay. Okay, I picked up on a few hints. What’s so wrong with them taking after me? It’s cute, right?” == Trey is the observant sort that picks up on his influence quickly. Not just anyone carries floss in their pocket at all times - and the looks from his dorm-mates when you offer some up is enough for the realization to click. Trey’s used to playing the respectable sort, and finds it endearing that you’re taking his good notes to heart. In truth, most of Trey’s mimicry is intentional. He’s a flexible guy who doesn’t mind altering his habits to fit your needs. Easier this way, y’know?

Habits you steal:

Speaking in Acronyms(Inherited): Now this is scary. The first time it happened, you had to take a pause and just re-evaluate your entire life. You don't use them nearly as often as Cater does, but somewhere along the line your brain must have rewired to speak in internet lingo. O-M-G you're TOTALLY twinning with him right now, period :)

Nicknames (Inherited): Again, frightening. You once swore against ever calling him Cay-Cay. It isn't very slay-slay. Yet you can only hear him use nicknames for so long until you're unconsciously calling people by them too. Especially since he's always dishing gossip. It starts in your head, which is fine. It's not like they know. Then you call Lilia 'Lils' and that old fart is just grinning behind his sleeve because ohoho~ young love <3

"Did you just- AHA! OMG DO IT AGAIN?! Wait, gotta get my camera out for this - wha? Oh, that's totes not fair! C'mon. Call me Cay-Cay. Just once! I won't even post it to Magicam, please? Lils won't believe me without proof! Pleasssssseeeee - " <- He actually doesn't want you to call him Cay-Cay all the time. Cater likes you using his given name, since it's more personal. Although the way it obviously slipped out on accident is just too cute to ignore.

Reality TV (Inherited): At first you don't like the gossip. It's cheesy, a bit annoying, and the shaky camera-work for nearly every show is headache inducing. Cater likes his dose of drama in his free-time, and Ramshackle has a tv that no one is using. It starts with him watching while you do other things around the dorm. Yet each time you pass the living area, you take longer to leave. Lingering around like one of the ghosts. Then he pulls you in with snacks and starts giving the low-down of what's going on, pulling out a bottle of tangerine shimmer polish to paint your nails. It's just one episode, watch it for him? Please? Oh no. No. No. Suddenly you're invested in who's the baby-daddy of little Ricky and what Chantel is going to do because her sister just lost the house to foreclosure.

"#KingdomOfDeadbeats - am I right? Ugh. I'm so glad we met if that's the dating scene back home...What?! I know it isn't real! Don't be a dummy, I was just joking! Ah! Stop! Don't hit me!" <- Half-hearted jokes about going on one of those talk-shows one day. You're an alien, after all - imagine the juicy drama and views his account would get from doing an interview? It's all jokes though. Cater likes spilling the tea, but hates being it. Don't ever abandon him and go out for milk though, kay? He doesn't want to pay Grim's child support. Otherwise he might have no choice smh

Habits he steals:

Phone/Web Games (Inherited): Cater's phone is mainly full of social media. He's not too into the gaming scene, it's not his peeps y'know? Alas, you download a few dress-up games and one MMO on his phone. First off - props on getting his phone. That's Cay-Cay's lifeline and not just anyone gets to play with it. Pray tell - what is this Wonderstar Planet (props if you know what is being ref.) and how can he become the most influential digital streamer on it? Congrats. He's addicted.

"Who's this Muscle Red and why's he bombing our raid - AH! He just tea-bagged me! So not cool...Prefect? STOP LAUGHING WE HAVE BETS ON THIS MATCH! There goes my collab opportunity, big fail" <- Muscle Red continues to make an appearance. Eventually he becomes Cater's official rival on stream, and Lils is all to invested in the tea cater drops during club meets. Side note. You're the one who gave 'muscle red' Cater's domain code. The lore thickens.

Internet Caution (Developed): This goes without saying, but Cater's well-known in the Magicam scene. He's very forward and knows his way around using charisma. Since you're not in the scene as much, he becomes more cautious of where and when he does streams. The change is so subtle that only the most observant people will pick up on it - but Cay-Cay doesn't want any creepos popping in if y'know what I'm saying. His sisters were the ones to instigate this change.

“Awe~ SRSLY?! That’s fresh news to my ears but good, right? Ne, are there any clips or pics? I need my evidence, y’see. Especially if my cutie is off taking notes from their one and only. C’mon, spill the tea!” == Cheeky Cater is well aware of what’s happening. He’d humor anyone out for some light teasing - after all, he isn’t by your side at all hours. His walls are probably the second most difficult in all of campus to bypass, so he’s both sweetened and nerved to see you picking up on his mannerisms. That’s proof of a strong attachment, after all.

Habits you steal:

Knuckle Cracking (Inherited): Deuce still does this from his biker days. It could be because joint pain from past fights, or possibly air retention in his knuckles from studying. Regardless, Deuce cracks his knuckles at least once every few hours and you began to mimic him. Some people groan at the popping sounds but it really does feel good to release the tension. Let's just hope neither of you dislocate any fingers on accident.

"Stop that! G-geez, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Thought you broke a finger...your hands are stiff? That just means you're studying a lot! I think...uh, let's break? I think there's some leftovers in the kitchen." <- Deuce 100% gets needing to pop those air bubbles. His hands get stiff from studying all the time, but don't crack them too much or you might dislocate something. Side note - he shows you how to wrap your fingers with a soothing salve. He used to do it after fights, but now it's a great help after class.

Double Notes (Developed): Deuce tries. He really does. Yet the lad just isn't great when it comes to book smarts. Seeing that he is dedicated to turning over a new leaf, you make a habit of copying all your notes. He isn't allowed to share them with Ace or Grim - else all bets are off. Sometimes you leave little 'good job' stickers on the last page for him. Is he a toddler? No. Does he peel the stickers off and save them? Totally. He is a good noodle. Suck it Ace.

Sewing (Developed): He breaks things. Most of the time it's an accident. You've learned to carry a mini-sewing kit for all the rips in Deuce's uniform. Same for mini remedies for stains and other problems. It's not like he's trying to get grass stains all over his under-shirt or to split the seam in his gloves (nearly every week). It just happens, and every time he comes to you with a kicked-puppy look with a promise of it being the last time. It is never the last time.

"Uhm...hun'? It happened again. I'm so sorry for bothering you but Housewarden is going to kill me if he sees the tear in my blazer! Can you fix it?! I can't handle another collar with my exam tomorrow! I need to breathe to focus! - really!? I owe you one! Snacks are on me tonight."

Habits he steals:

Bottomless Stomach (Developed): Have leftovers from dinner? Bring them over. He'll get the tubba-ware back in 1-2 days. Coupon for buy-one-get-one at Sam's? He'll take the extra and polish it off in less than a minute. Deuce becomes a human garbage disposal and is taking the unwanted condiments off your sandwich to eat. Just pick them off and leave 'em on the corner of his lunch plate. Even if he dislikes it, he'll down it so you don't have to.

"Mm. Oh, thanks hun' - its that all you're eatin'? You don't like the steam bun? It is a bit dry, but wasting food is disrespectful to the cooks! I'll finish it for you so have my fruit instead. You still need to eat" <- 10/10 very thoughtful and not picky at all. He is grateful to eat your cooking and will gobble up all leftovers at Ramshackle, but doesn't think twice to sharing meals in the cafeteria. He will notice though if you do not eat enough. Restocks the snack cabinet if he sees it's empty. Is touched if you routinely share things you know he enjoys, like saving half your frittata on purpose.

Early Riser (Inherited): See - even if you hate the mornings, there is no choice at Night Raven College. As Ramshackle Prefect you need to be up to take care of business before class. Deuce becomes your personal alarm clock because he wants some time with you before everyone else joins in. Mind you that he lives with three other dudes who threaten to end him every morning because his alarm wakes them up too. Eventually he can wake up without it, but the time leading is unpleasant.

"W-what? Seriously? I've been trying to be more like them! They're a good person and responsible so I've been trying to follow their example. To think we've been doing the same thing this entire time...." == Why would you ever imitate him? He's been trying his damn best to become an honor student worth respecting, and has a long way to go. To think you're comfortable enough with him to mimic his mannerisms? It's a pipe dream, one he doesn't grasp until it's put right in front of his face. You don't let anyone else pick off your plate other than Grim. The next time his clothes tear, he's already handing off his tie before realizing just what's happening. When you wrap his knuckles after a six-hour lock in at the library? He can't help but feel proud at how neat the bandages are. Suddenly the dark memories of hiding bruised knuckles from his mom are pacified with healing balm. Deuce views this development as a gift, and is grateful. Very, very grateful.

Habits you steal:

‘I owe you’ cards (Inherited): Ace's favorite social invention - the 'solid'. Nothing spells new-low like getting your friends to do stuff in exchange for a favor in the future. Most of the time Ace counts on people forgetting he owes them one, but you're not so gullible. The only difference between you both is that while Ace never fulfills his solid, you have a conscience. Give it a few more years. He'll get ya.

"I know this is the third ticket this week but - Oh! C'mon, cut a guy some slack, would you? I'm sorry for bein' late to our date. Yeah, it was shitty. I'm not trying to fight it, aright? I'm here now so let's have some fun and you can chalk three strikes on my tab. I'll even buy ya some candy - Ah! Okay! Two candies but that's where my charity ends!" <- Evidently, the 'I-owe-you' tabs cancel each other out from how often you both call in favors. It's just an excuse to do acts of service or express apologies without being too mushy. Ace is definitely keeping a track record of them though. Expect an ongoing log that dates back to the week you met, when he showed up homeless, collared, and looking to couch surf.

Profanity (Inherited): Ace swears like a sailor. Maybe not so much in his dorm because *cough* he's being policed. He holds no such reservations when you're both alone at Ramshackle. Unfortunately his potty mouth has a mind of it's own - it taints you, and you are a sham of a prefect. Ace earned a week-long collar for teaching you some Twisted-Wonderland exclusive curses. Riddle is not pleased.

Leaving the Windows Unlocked (Developed): There are only so many times he can sneak in through your window before the adrenaline-induced charm wears off. You have class in the morning, and can't be bothered to deal with him on nights he can't pass out in his dorm. Thank seven you have all of Ramshackle to yourself - because Heartslabyul sounds like a nightmare with the roommate situation. You can't leave the front door open for obvious reasons, but most nights the guest-bedroom window will be left slightly ajar in case he needs a place to crash.

"Pssst! Oi! Prefect! ...ugh, Grim! Wake them up, man! The latch is stuck. Don't go back to bed you furball! HEY! IT'S FREAKIN COLD OUT HERE SO LET ME IN ALREADY" <- Please let him in. If Ace has to spend one more night in that stinky dorm with three dudes, he'll string one of their dirty gym socks over your bed. No mercy.

Sleeping with Earplugs (Developed): Bitch Ace snores.

Habits he steals:

Notes Memo (Developed): Ace is bad with remembering things. Anniversaries? Dates? Allergies? He admits to not putting in a great amount of effort, but you can't say he doesn't try at all. He has a notes block on his phone dedicated to things like your go-to takeout orders and preferences. He even has a few alarms set days before any important events because even if you say no-gifts or plans...yeah, he's not that stupid.

Excessive Yawning (Inherited): You're always tired - it wasn't Ace's problem before but now he does feel a bit guilty. Dragging you into his messes felt different when you were just the prefect, y'know? Regardless, it's human instinct to mimic each other's demeanor so he'll openly yawn all the time - normally in succession of you.

"Hey...you're dozing off again. Am I seriously that boring to hang around? - Nah. Just messin' with you. I'd suggest taking a nap during next period but I doubt a goody-goody like you is gonna take that advice. Let's just ditch juice at lunch and go back to the dorm. Don't get mad if I forget to wake you up though"

Medications (Developed): Ace is the last person to become a human apothecary, but he's always got a pack of pain-reliever meds in his pocket with a few bandages, etc. He also attached one of those tiny capsule bottles to his keyring with some stomach meds inside. You took a spill running laps? Dang man. That sucks. Here's a band-aid for your knee. Curse you for making him the slightly-more responsible one.

"Eh..what, like it's a shock? You saying I'm a bad influence? Cause yeah, that checks. Nothin' I can do if they want to take a card outta my deck though," == Ace is entirely neutral on the topic. He is definitely smug that you're coming over to the dark side, but he doesn't need anyone to point it out. He was your first after all. Maybe the start could have been a bit better - but hey, you came around. It's not like he's hurting anyone by helping build your backbone. Although Ace will instantly deny going soft for you in any way, shape, or form.

[bloofairyfox]

Flower Mugs

Minghao x GN!Reader

Genre: fluffy fluffy fluff~

CW/TW: PDA? They’re out in public and Reader kisses Minghao on the cheek once but none really :3

Note: this is really bad but I was in some bad Minghao brain rot so I had to write something please bear with me🙏🏾🛐

“You’re walking too slow”

You look up from your phone as you feel a hand grab yours and slowly pull you closer, quickening your pace as you try to keep up with Minghao. Agreeing to hang out with Minghao in the city was probably a mistake. Not that hanging out with Minghao was the problem, but being in the city was. It was loud and crowded, which were things that you didn’t really like much. But you just had to hang with Minghao because this would have been the 3rd time you canceled on him when it came to making plans and you didn’t want to disappoint him again. So you finally got yourself together and found a day to spend time with each other.

“I am. you’re just walk to dang fast,” you reply putting your phone in your pocket. “It’s not my fault we’re late for the train…”

It super was your fault. You had seen these cute mugs in a little antique shop that really caught your eye.

“Oh my God minghao, we should get these!” You beam at him with a smile, holding up a coffee mug with a sweet flower design on it.

“Don’t you already have 15 other mugs that look exactly like that?” Minghao barely looks over at you, he already knows you had found something with flowers or something similar to it. instead he’s looking around the shop and messing with things that interest him. not wanting to entertain the thought of you buying something you didn’t need.

“No! Not every flower designed mug looks the same Minghao!” you huff as Minghao continues to ignore you. You turn to look at the shelf of mugs and admire every last one of them before signing and putting the one you had back. You walk to where Minghao was and look over his shoulder, almost resting your chin on him tickling his neck with your fluffy winter hat.

“What’re you lookin at?” Minghao slightly turns his head to look at you, a smile appearing on his lips “nothing,” he softly pets the top of your head. “You done shopping?” Minghao ask, but before you could even reply he cuts you off.

“You’re not getting that mug you found?”

“Hm? Oh that! Yeah I decided not too, didn’t want to spend too much money, you know?” You wore a sheepish look on your face. Minghao just laughs to himself at your expression and pulls out his wallet

“I can get it for you” he says without thinking twice and makes his way over to the shelf that houses the mugs. You follow him and try to stop him “Minghao you really don’t ha-“

“Which one did you like, love?” He cuts you off again as he waits for your response. You stand there for a little bit in surprise. Minghao really doesn’t need to do this but knowing how he is, once he sets his mind on something he’s gonna go through with it so you give up and just let out sigh with a slight smile as you point to the one you wanted. He hands the mug over to you and even picks up one for himself.

“We’re matching now” he smiles clinking the cups together as a few giggles leave both of your mouths. “Thanks Minghao I appreciate this a lot” you admire the cup and then look up at Minghao as you give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Anything else you want?” You think for a moment as you look around.

“Well…”

You two finally make your way into the station and onto the train right before the doors close, the both of you out of breath. Luckily the train cart you’re in has very little people in it so you two could sit anywhere together, You put your bags on the floor and relax as the train starts moving. Minghao rest his head on yours as you put your head on his shoulder.

“Had fun today, honey” he kisses the top of your head and interlocks his hand with yours letting the heat from his warm your hands.

“Yeah definitely…” your words come out almost like a whisper but Minghao still picks up on them.

“Good, I’m glad” he rubs small circles on your hands hearing your breathing becoming more stable as you drift off to sleep.

Minghao looks over at the bags of trinkets you and him got smiling to himself when he sees the matching flower mugs. he closes his eyes and breathes in your scent, the rumble of the train lulling him to sleep.

[barbwalken]

This comment made me think about Mohg and how complex he is to me, and why he is my favorite Elden Ring character, not only because of his fucking badass design (he embodies everything i love in character designs, horns, fangs, cool eye, and has black wings man, and his outfit is so elegant, he is extra personified). But with the bits of story we get from the game, you get a really interesting character.

He has a twin, they were the children of the most powerful person in the lands between, they were royalty, they should have lived like kings, but because of how they were born, they are considered an omen and were left to rot in the sewers, cursed and facing horrors since childhood.

You can find him to be really sympathetic, guy must be traumatized, so much that he manages to make contact with a freaking god who craves wounds, just to fuck him up in the mind even more.

And when he comes out of the subterranean shunning grounds he starts a cult, kidnaps people to experiment with them, brain washes them to the point of having his same twisted idea of love and murders so many people that he lives surrounded by literal rivers of blood.

Then Miquella bewitches him, (I think he was already doing his cult thing even before Miquella made contact with him) and fucks up even more Mohg's perception of love.

And I dont know, but this just shows how fucking far was Miq willing to go to reach goodhood. And I dont say this because "oh no, poor Mohg", but because is very clear how dangerous and powerful he is, and Miquella still said Fuck it, lets use the most fucked up of the demigods (besides richie), and I dont think it went as smooth as he was expecting (i dont think being raped and mutated into a blody mummy was part of his plan, tho is also hard to say how much of this was Mohg's doing)

And as much as i love sir Ansbach and he is my favorite npc, I think he also has a very sick devotion for Mohg. Like he has ultra biased "love-vision only" when it comes to Mohg, so much that if you only take his words on Mohg and personality, you would think he is the most noble and honorable of the demigods lol.

Idk, everything related to Mohg is so fucked up, i love it. Also, he is so fun to draw

[mediocres-writing-blog]

MK LEGENDS: BLOOD BOUND

Chapter 12: Night out in Town

Nico, after a couple of hours of training, Nico heads off to his room to get some things before he heads out.

ROBIN: Hey, General, do you mind if I go to town? Given it seems like I have no work due soon?

Sonya would not her head, and then give him a deadline.

SONYA: Just be back by 10 pm, otherwise you're doing the dishes for punishment.

ROBIN: Sure thing, General Cage-Blade. 

He said, as he left and got on the nearest taxi and drove off to town. As he got out, he paid his driver and then kept walking like a normal citizen through the streets. Eventually, he would stop and sit on a park bench to eat a sandwich he bought. As he chewed on the sandwich, a girl walked over, carrying a schoolbag with a notebook in it. Nico would notice her blue hair, her emerald green eyes, and blush a little bit. He barely even realized she was going his way.

GIRL: Hey, do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full.

ROBIN: Huh, oh, no, of course not, go ahead. Don't mind me, please.

GIRL: Thankiee.

Nico would scoot over, almost falling off the bench. As the girl sat down, he could feel his heart start to race. He couldn't think straight. She took out a notebook, full of drawings that she drew of outfit designs. She would notice the crusader looking at her drawings. She would get nervous and try to hide the pages he already saw. Nico noticed her shyness and decided to introduce himself.

ROBIN: Sorry about that. I didn't mean to be an inconvenience, I was just curious. It's nice to meet you, I'm Nico.

He said, extending his hand to her. The girl would smile and chuckle, and shake his hand.

MELISA: It's no problem. Melisa Wilson. I like to do fashion and character design... You, wanna see--

NICO: Yes.

Nico was as red as a stop sign and responded faster than my Tumblr mutual's ability to hit the reblog button whenever I post some new art.

MELISA: Damn, and I thought I was a fanatic. So, what are you doing?

Nico, finally able to control his speech,clears his throat and responds.

ROBIN: Well, I'm taking a small break. Just walking through the city for my free day.

MELISA: Really? What do you do for a living?

ROBIN: You wouldn't believe me. You'd probably call me a lunatic at most.

Melisa would look at Nico and chuckle.

MELISA: Whatever it is, I've heard dumber things.

ROBIN: I'm Special Forces.

She would look at him, raising an eyebrow.

MELISA: You were right, that's the fakest shit I've heard in a long time, and I've heard politicians speak.

Nico, glancing at her with the signature look of superiority, takes out his wallet and shows his ID. She looked at the card, and looked up at the masked moron.

MELISA: Well, I'd be damned. This chapter has really taken a turn.

ROBIN: Sorry, did you just break the fourth wall?

MELISA: No, I've always known it existed, it's just that the writer doesn't seem to mind. Or give a shit, really.

ROBIN: Oh my god, your crazy matches my crazy.

MELISA: Aaaand, that's from Deadpool. On the bright side though, Marvel or Disney can't get us, because big money corporations don't care about lowlife brain rot stuff like this, so we're safe.

Nico would chuckle and look down with his hand on his face. He would then ask her.

ROBIN: Anyways, uh, wanna get a coffee together some time?

MELISA: That would be nice. Just don't forget to come back and tell me about the adventures of a masked vigilante.

Nico would laugh and the two would walk away, but not before Nico receiving a light pat on the back, blushing intensively. He would then head back to the base. The second he walked in, he didn't notice Sonya literally at the door.

SONYA: Have fun, Ghai?

ROBIN: Uh, yes, yes, ma'am. Sorry for being a little late, I went places.

SONYA: Drinking? 

ROBIN: I prefer not to say. 

Nico would head back to his room, but before he entered, Sonya interrupted him.

SONYA: Oh, Nico, before you go to sleep....

Nico would bend back, and Sonya would tap on her watch, showing it's actually 21:59.

SONYA: You aren't late. I'm impressed.

ROBIN: Ma'am, Thanks, ma'am.

SONYA: Now, sleep. you earned it.

The caped crusader would salute Sonya, and then close his door. As he closed the door, he would take a big sigh, jumping in bed. As he lays down, he looks up and says to himself.

ROBIN: Oh lord, I finally found a perfect match and God knows how many people still ship me with Amara... Oh fuck, what am I gonna do...? Writer, what the fuck do I do?

Look man, I don't fucking know. I didn't intend for people to ship you with the daughter of the man who caused you pain. I love you with all my heart, but you gotta figure it out yourself.

ROBIN: ... You know what? You can suck it. I'll see ya next week.

He said, as he turned to the wall and snoze off, wondering what horrors await in the future.

[squidsandlanterns]

Wick Head Cannons for how I think the twins came to be and the shadow entity (?) probably being involved- (Actually this is just a ramble-)

Ok so.....

This is really just a thought that has been rotting and scratching in the back of my mind from a year and some months now and it's just......

So you know how most of Wick's lore is basically left up to up to interpret? Well a lot of people seem to lean into the "Mary cheated when John left for war" but..... explain when in the audio of Mary begging God to "forgive her of her sins, she was evil from the day she was born,and she hopes to be released from her sins" (that part has me questioning some things-) and the babies crying we can literally hear what seems to be a demonic growl at the end....

Now, I know that the possible theory of her cheating may be true but....what if the twins weren't of a regular father? But a demon? Like we hear in John audio when he was going to kill himself that Mary had "Invited the devil into their bed" and she blamed her problems on the church she loved so much.....

Now that may mean that

Speculation one:

Mary probably slept with a demon and in turn face birth to the twins (and they may be actual changelings), she freaks tf out, goes to the church about it (well more like the pastor) and he like "no bae I ain't fixing that shi you throw those devil spawns TF out, and get yo ass in here after and start repenting" and she may not have she keeps them, John comes home, find out his wife fr cheated and all of a sudden when he's arguing with her Tom starts crying (because the shadow entity came back for them to place a curse of sickness) and shi starts down spiraling. LIKE FAST. Benny at that time knew what was going on but not to a great extent until he died and Mary at one point use to actually care and love her children but with John probably isolating himself, the pastor pressuring her about the evil she brought into the world and the shadow entity seemingly lurking around in the forest (I think it was in one of Calebs audio John was telling him that he's not strong enough to fight of the evil in the woods or smth-) probably waiting for an opportunity to strike.And it did get one. All because of Mary. She starting neglecting her kids, probably even starved the twins and Caleb (look at them, I mean seriously why do the look so malnourished??? Even when Caleb was alive he looked like a skeleton already-). I think the only person that got a little attention was Benny (Old Man Edwards audio about Benny). So when kids started dying (She most likely killed the twins. Probably suffocated and burnt Tim (in his NWO design and mask) and for Tom it was more brutal like.... Chased her kid around, beat him and then probably shoved him off the bridge or in the well.... I'll save this for later) And when she died the pastor peiced together that "Oh fuq this placed is cursed ASF there's a demon fr fr" tries to perform an excorsim but the entity shows up and is like "Nawh today you gon die" and the cue his death by the twins....huh.....now that I think about it maybe the pastor helped Mary kill the twins-???

Uh that's it I guess, please send me your ideas on what probably went down in Wick......Jesus that was in my brain for so long....I didnt even write this properly-

Oh well-

Thank you for reading my spiral into insanity.

[yellowocaballero]

Hi👋

I remember somewhere you said you’re very visual about your writing process which is why Jake’s stupid moustache had to go.

Does that mean you have fancasts?

:D ! Y'all ask me such great questions :D

The short answer to this question is 80% of the time no jalksdf. The fics I've been writing lately (comics, Moon Knight) are already a visual medium, so obviously I do just kind of use what the characters actually look like in the comic I most strongly identify with them or the TV show. In the end everything sorts out into a really generic mental animation style that's not really anything in particular. The longer answer is that I fucking WISH I did because my actual lifestyle gets so fucking messy. Like all of this actually severely really bothers me nonstop.

Because so much of what I write is multimedia I can't just play the OG work in my brain. Hey, do the other SW writers who think visually have the problem of like - so Obi-Wan in your mind is live action from ROTS, but Ahsoka is CGI from TCW, and Anakin is either live action ROTS or cartooney if he's younger than 19, and the clones are simultaneously live action Jango Fett and CGI clones and it makes it KINDA hard to visualize things? And the exact same issue when writing comic fics with a cast that is half live action and half cartooney in your brain? Like, am I the only one with this issue?!

It is so problematic for the new story bc of 3 different works with so many different art styles. Mr. Knives Trigun has a highly stylized 90s anime appearance that I don't think of him as, and a super realistic modern CGI appearance with which is how I think of the character, except none of that works for MY Knives, and obviously Millie is 90s anime, and Meryl is some sort of demented mix, Brad & Luida are 300% CGI, and Wolfwood is fucking impossible since he's from one hyper-super stylized woodcut-ass flashback of the CGI anime and AGH. Imagine new Knives Trigun as the 'I'm a healer but' meme guy because that's all I can fucking give you.

Again like this like 'Meg is this an actual problem you have when writing Star Wars, Comics, and Trigun' and the answer is that it's a BIG PROBLEM that BUGS ME. How the fuck do you guys live??? Is this just me?!?!

In brighter but equally uselessly complicated news, New Wave was more complicated since everybody was really specifically designed in my mind in a specific animation style and since I can't draw Y'all Will Never Know it. Obviously it was very 00s animation - you can really safely imagine Bruce as himself from the 00s Batman cartoon. I really liked how much sleeker and skinnier and younger he looks in that design! Steph has the BIG hair from her first Robin arc and Tim has Jake Animorph style Generic 90s Relatable Teen Boy visuals.

Sorry that's not a very fun answer and also not a very real answer :( Fancasts that I do genuinely have is, obviously, all for TMA:

Tim Stoker as a younger, sprucier, Daniel Dae Kim.

Daisy as Kristen Bell.

Elias as Marc Evan Jackson.

Annabelle Cane from Sucker's Bet is a mix of Jadah Marie and my friend from high school, which is unhelpful to you.

Teen Gerry was the kid from Monster Allergy. Yeah really.

Martin as That One Fanart My Friend Drew Of My Martin.

And. Obviously. Jon as That One Fanart My Friend Drew Of My Jon That Just Made Me Go Oh That's Jon Now OK.

(Think of Standard Fanart Basira and that's my Basira. Sasha, Georgie, and Melanie are just more generally designed by my brain.)

Do YOU want to design one of my characters permanently in my brain forever. Just draw nice fanart of them. It's that easy. I'll look at it and go 'oh this is what they look like' and that'll be what they look like in my head, forever, and ever. I promise it'll work.

[mushroom-for-art]

Hehehe brain rot go brrr made another Xatt who also has interconnecting lore with the original two (Xatts species belonging to @chocodile) ft. Past vs modern form I suppose comparison

The shadow magic cave system stuff that makes these guys really just spat this one out and said fuck you you've got teeth problems XD I'm so sorry this probably isn't an actual thing that happens I'm just like this, so for some reason his mouth had too many teeth which caused many problems, he has teeth growing on top of each other and being forced sticking out, tusks growing out through his skin a broken tusk that's definitely infected, probably infections in his gums from his teeth being whack uncomfortable drooling from the pain and probably bad breath tbh not that their mouths smell good normally but extra ew. So eating is incredibly hard prey smells his mouth and is put off by it, his bulbs are weak sauce not very good glow bad illumination hard to get preys attention (sorry bout that) and honestly trapping and suffocating prey is difficult when your mouth hurts. I just made him and made his life difficult. I imagine he's got more of a weasely body shorter than Xep from feet to ears but longer than her from snout to before tail end. I think he has the biggest tail mouth so far out of all 3? I'd have to do a size chart he's definitely bigger than bun and I do want to give him the biggest chompers. I tried to keep fur color patterning realistic but plain as I wasn't sure on how far patterns could be pushed before it became a different coat type. I also tried not to give this one pink bulbs as the past two have been pink....instead he became pink and arguably purple is just pink, I can't win pink bulbs just too dang good. He was meant to have a much more blue color scheme in my mind he was blueish aligned but it didn't look nice so he pink.

As modern hes a class traitor lmao, I feel as he struggled he planned to leave caves to try life in the human society world and got snatched up by some people who saw him and went "oh poor thing look at it!" and he was promptly given drugs and veterinary care to remove his extra teeth and help with his infections. They realised after oh yea this is one of those creatures they're apparently quite smart. And he revealed yea he is. The people had already paid the vet bill by then (he had been careful to pretend to be 'knocked out' he didn't want no bills), so he was a free man. He actually keeps in touch with them they did him a solid he does appreciate it, and has his own job and such and housing ect. He went to the dentist about getting his remaining teeth straightened as they were still whack and they gave him anaesthetics to do it, which he found rude like yea sure he probably would've pretended to bite an arm off, maybe actually, doesn't mean they should give him drugs. Like sir. Sir you know fine well you would've bitten someone dont bullshit me. In all honesty I just wanted to add braces to his design to show how 'human' he is in a way how different he is to my wild Xatts, his modern design came first then I decided to give his younger self dental issues. I also love how his chest boof turned into an almost tie illusion, he also has scars from struggling in the wild before joining society which is funny the one guy doing taxes is the only one with visible scars. That's life and I wanted to do scars adds interest to character designs

Currently outside his job he engages in trade and business with Xep, this was after falling for the lure of Bun outside a cave and being a bit worried cause Xatts don't usually leave the caves are you lost do you want a help footing in the outside world? (human society seems to have made him soft). And was promptly jumped by Xep and nearly robbed before she realised annoyingly he had nothing she wanted. From then on after a bit of arguing they worked out a business deal she had human items she didn't want that he could pawn off and then use that money (keeping a percentage for himself of course) to get her things she would want. Bun doesn't think much of him, thought he was a traitor naturally at first but he quite liked her and thus immediately lied saying he in fact was not there willingly! Oh no! He had in fact been trapped-no taken by people while unconscious who were now holding him for money for doing stuff as he was unaware taking out his old teeth and he had no choice but to work to get money to pay them back. The lies coming a bit too easily and quickly, can't help it he's become a liar by habit and he does feel bad later for painting his human society companions like that but, they'll never meet so it'll be fine neither will know the truth. He's slightly nervous around Xep naturally even though he lives with humans her behaviourisms are all wrong for Xatts she's hard to read and it makes him vastly uncomfortable at times but she has things that are sellable and he likes a bit of business, nothing wrong with extra money in his pocket, and they can talk about human things sometimes and it's nice to not have to explain something in detail that she just knows what he means. Meanwhile him and Bun are civil with each other, I imagine he got a bulb cap for her chipped bulb to cover the top as it honestly probably causes sensitivity and ringing so the cover helps block that out until her bulb regrows fully or to a state that it's not hypersensitivity so she appreciates that even if it's from the people world.

But that's my new boy he's not named yet, I had actually done a quick search trying to find a name but alas short attention span nothing jumped out. For now he's probably just Weasel.

[merakiui]

Oh my god I never thought Id see an alpha!scaramouche. Mera, hes been on my brain a lot recently because of the leaks I saw of him (nervous about what his new design is gonna be and what his animations are gonna be). Some more brainrot for omegaverse though ! Maybe a way you would find out about him being an alpha is that your suppresants don't get renewed on time so when you go to seek comfort from the wanderer you notice he seems a bit different around you. Theres just a little hint of brainrot, you'd do a better job at expanding on it than I possibly could <3

Omg he's been on my mind so much lately!! orz I miss brain rotting about him, so expect lots of mouchey thoughts. <3

(cw: yandere, omegaverse/abo, pregnancy, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession)

As for the omegaverse brain rot, what if it's that one trope where Scara gets you pregnant by accident because you went into heat and he got overwhelmed by his instincts and the two of you end up fucking without protection? And he's so close to biting your neck and claiming you as his for all of eternity, but he miraculously holds back and just,,,, sinks his teeth into his arm instead!!! And now the both of you are sort of stuck together after the pregnancy test comes back positive some time later. You're so ashamed that you've burdened Scara with this and you apologize profusely while he just stares at the test, half-expecting a joke or a mistake or something. You tell him you'll deal with this yourself and you suggest getting rid of the baby since you can't afford the resources or the time needed to care for a child. You're in your final year of university. You have to focus on your degree, not a child, and you don't want to bother Scara with any of your problems.

Scara has this moment of internal panic when he hears you say that because he actually doesn't want you to do any of that. He can't explain why, but the idea of you getting rid of the baby makes him feel oddly uncomfortable. So, since he's a very well-off alpha with a stable and respectable job, he moves you into his penthouse. He says it's only to keep you safe. Omegas are already vulnerable enough, but one that's pregnant and emits the sweetest pheromones?! That's just asking for conflict. Scara promises he'll schedule an appointment with an ob-gyn (hmm maybe it's alpha albedo ooohhhh), but he waits a while. He'd prefer to keep this between you and him (the last thing he needs is Miko breathing down his neck if she finds out; and she'll no doubt tell Ei and then he'll really be in hot water). He'll have the family doctor come in to see you. You won't even have to leave his home, save for when you travel to uni.

Scara's almost never home. And for the first few months, it feels like he just doesn't care about you, which isn't too terrible because it allows you to do all the things you'd normally do regardless of this new arrangement. But Scara is so cold and distant, almost always in a foul mood when he's home, and you begin to wonder if this was a good idea. But while you stew over your doubt, Scara's been watching you through the cameras in his home while he's at work. You're so precious when you're oblivious, and he's given an immense serotonin boost when he watches you crawl into his bed and wrap yourself up in the blankets, most likely to surround yourself with his scent.

There are just a few concerning issues. One: You're still attending university and he can't always follow you to and from your school. Two: Your friends are always messaging your phone. He'd know because he's had a colleague he's acquainted with tap into your phone so that he can read every message as soon as you receive it. You haven't told them anything yet, which is a relief because he wants to make you disappear from the world so that it'll be you, him, and the adorable baby growing inside you. You don't need those fools anyway. And three: You don't actually like him. There's no love. You're just here because he told you he'd take responsibility.

But when your friends insist on meeting up with you, claiming that you never go out anymore, it really gnaws on Scara's patience. And when you get into heated arguments with him when he refuses to let you go outside for fresh air, of all things, and he has to calm himself down because he doesn't want his temper or the intense amount of pheromones he's releasing to stress you and the baby out, it just adds more fuel to the growing fire. You only need him. Why can't you realize that? That's what you told him while he was fucking you all those months ago. So why does it feel like you can function perfectly fine without him (save for those little moments when you get weepy and melancholic, yearning for an alpha's presence)? He'll make sure you'll depend on him soon enough.

After all, he'll be the only one in your life. There won't be anyone else to turn to. You'll have no choice but to accept him and this life, even if you think you can leave after you've given birth to Scara's child. There's no way he's letting you go now, not when he's fallen so deep into this obsession.

[kiriiqt]

ensnare.

- yandere tighnari drabble.

characters: tighnari x reader a/n: brain rot go fucking brr I had to cut an entire section of this bc it was too long. I have so many more thoughts about him I might need to make a part two goddamnit. warnings: extreme manipulation, mind games, predator/prey comparisons, drugging/poisoning.

Normally; manipulative, stalker-ish, appears harmless

I think Tighnari is up there in the ranking of which yandere would be most terrifying or difficult to deal with, though the terrifying aspect comes in later…

For now, picture Tighnari; quick-witted, smart, sassy, but overall good-natured Tighnari. Devoted to his job, to the forest, and to taking care of all forms of life - including you. Oh, and he’s so sweet too - always so worried for your wellbeing. Even when scolding you for being careless, there’s this charm to him, and it’s like he’s completely unaware of it.

The way he greets you with a soft smile, how his ears twitch when he’s alert, and how his tail swishes behind him absentmindedly… Archons, he’s adorable, you think, eyeing him absentmindedly. It’s hard not to fall for him; you’re sure that you’re not the only one with somewhat of a crush on the forest ranger…and from the stories you’ve heard, he’s been quite popular for a while, even back in his Akademiya days. Yet he’s so…clueless. It’s infuriating, really; no matter what you do, he doesn’t see through your actions, doesn’t realize how you truly feel, despite how close you are. You’d think that common sense would win at some point, that he’d finally see through you - he’s so good at reading other people, tricking them, with a smirk breaking out on his face, sly as he is…

…Sly. Tighnari laughs when you, jokingly, call him that one day; oh, as if you even have a clue. Really, you’re the adorable and clueless one, with how your eyes nearly sparkle whenever you gaze at him, head snapping the other way when he catches you. And he knows that it’s mean, but the frustrated expression that washes over your face when your flirting goes ‘unnoticed’ is just too cute to him, so he keeps up the oblivious act. He enjoys observing you; observing how hard you’re trying to impress him, clearly worried that someone is ahead of you in the race for his affection. A race that doesn’t even exist, mind you. As if any of those scholars and researchers could compare to you.

But alas, it’s a necessary evil - to him, anyway. He needs to lure you in; the oblivious nature is an act perfectly designed to fool you; act suspiciously close with someone here, sprinkle a few rumors there; he’s got you stumbling around, as if you’re a helpless prey in the middle of one of his Vijnana-Khanda Fields. He’s tempted to taunt you, but oh no, he can’t let the facade slip just yet.

He is getting a bit impatient, though. He was sure you would have slipped long ago; right into his arms, and he would have been able to snap the trap shut and keep you there. Playing around with your prey is only fun for so long. And he can’t be the first to confess; how much he thinks about you, knows about you, how obsessed he is with you. No, you need to do it first. He needs to maintain the upper hand in this; needs to keep you inside his little field, surrounded by his taunting, to make you believe that he’s so easily lost, like a sneaky fox slipping away in the night. Better hurry up and give in, before he loses his patience…he’s already given you so much time, hasn’t he?

Essentially, Tighnari is the type to play mind games with you; make you believe that you want him more than he wants you. It’s a powerplay, of sorts, and a sadistic part of him enjoys seeing you absolutely out of your mind when he comes back from an ‘outing’ with a fellow researcher. His words are vague on purpose, and he feigns ignorance to see just how far he can push you. At the same time, he’s careful to never let anything slip, because one wrong move, and you’d see through it; and he’d absolutely hate to resort to other methods…

If his plan fails, and you simply take too long to confess, he’ll have to take the first step, a fact that annoys him. He amps up his tactics, pulling you in and pushing you away, so you break. And then you finally, finally, come to him in tears, explaining how confused you are and how unfair he’s being. He could cry, that’s how relieved he is; but he won’t. Instead, he’ll gently shush you, bring you into an embrace and apologize. Tell you that he didn’t know; that he didn’t realize just how you felt. That he’s willing to give it a try. It’s a cruel, half-promise, that leaves you overjoyed but also terrified that he’ll regret his decision and leave. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to; you’ve got him, hook, line and sinker, because fennec foxes mate for life, after all. But you don’t need to know that.

Tighnari’s always had the upper hand. You’ve been at a checkmate from the beginning; moving around carelessly, each turn just a method of stalling while he slowly, but surely, ensnares you completely.

Snapped; controlling, possessive, manipulative x10.

Snapped Tighnari is probably one of the most dangerous yanderes, but not in the sense that he’ll hurt you (we’ll get to that later), more in the sheer power he holds over you. While Tighnari obviously couldn’t compare to someone politically influential like Ayato or Ningguang, he’s got his own strengths; an incredible amount of knowledge and respect. A stainless reputation, that he’s built up by himself. He can’t bypass the law easily, and sure, he doesn’t have an army of subordinates who can do the dirty work of tracking you for him, but with his skills, that’s child's play anyway.

Tighnari is a pretty stable yandere, so I don't see him ‘snapping’ most of the time. If all goes according to his plan, he’s got you wrapped around his finger for life. But if it doesn’t…. Let’s say, Tighnari’s plan failed. Maybe he miscalculated, or pushed you too far; his hypothesis was incorrect, and there you are, in the arms of another person, seeking comfort from them because of his actions. And Tighnari is furious; the guilt and sorrow from hurting you masks itself as anger, as fear, and he realizes he needs to act fast.

Desperate times call for even more desperate measures…and Tighnari does feel bad, really, it’s never nice to watch your beloved choke on a dish that’s been meddled with. But, he didn’t give you a lethal dose, of course; the finely ground powder was only enough to make you pass out for a few hours, waking up with what seemed to be symptoms of a flu. A flu that is just bad enough for Tighnari to whisk you away to the safety of his hut, so it doesn’t get worse, or spread to your other friends. You’re so thankful for his help, unaware of the fact that he’s actually adding the powder into your breakfast every morning. The dosage dwindles every few days to avoid any lasting damages (and suspicion), but it keeps you in bed long enough for Tighnari to… pull a few strings.

Collei is the first to see you once your fever finally fades, and she can’t contain herself for very long; the finally and i’m so happy for you two spilling out of her, as she’s almost falling out of her seat; and you, confused as you are, ask her what she means. A discomfort spreads through you at the sight of her wide eyes and gaping jaw; and it soon turns to panic, when she asks you if your head feels okay; if your memories are muddled. She chalks it up to the fever - it was really bad, you probably don’t remember much - and finally explains. You confessed to Tighnari while he was taking care of you, yes, really, he told Cyno himself! Collei overheard it by accident; she swears she didn’t mean to, as apologies spill out from her lips, she was just in the other room when he said it; and he knew that, actually… How odd. She finally snaps out of it, asking if it was a lie? The worry and hurt in her eyes makes guilt wash over you, and you reassure her that no, you would never lie about such a thing; you wonder how you’re going to explain this to Tighnari - oh Archons, poor Tighnari - and then it hits you; you do love Tighnari, truly, even if the fever has made you forgetful…and Colleis behavior suggests that he feels the same way…you can just explain it to him; explain it, and the two of you could pursue a relationship, just like you’ve wanted for so long. But… it feels like you’re forgetting someone. Yes, someone who comforted you, who was there for you when the heartbreak, the heartbreak Tighnari caused, had you at your lowest point…that wonderful person…

Who? You…can’t seem to remember them anymore.

Tighnari relishes in how you almost beg him for forgiveness, and how you look so relieved when he reassures you that it’s alright; that he’s just happy you’re feeling better. But his expression changes when you begin to ask questions; that person, the one you forgot, they’re someone important, but who? Surely Tighnari would know…but all he does is gaze at you, alarmed, before pressing his palm against your forehead, then looking into your eyes, asking if you’re okay? He explains that there was no such person… Maybe the fever was worse than anticipated? Maybe you have a strange illness? Maybe you hit your head while passing out?! You shush him, assuring him that you feel fine, and gently caress his face to dwell his panic. He asks you to stay; stay with him a while longer, just in case. He’d hate to have anything bad happen to you; and don’t worry, he’s knowledgeable about many illnesses, he’ll take care of you…and of any pesky delusions that are now plaguing your confused mind. Just trust him; he’s your boyfriend now, after all.

And finally, you embrace him, your eyes full of mirth as the worry melts away, and he smiles at you, while his arms wrap around you. Tightly, like thorny vines trapping you in place, and the sly fox finally biting into its prey.

Clarification; Tighnari did not drug, poison, or make Collei hallucinate in any way- whether you confessing to him actually happened, or not, is up to you to decide. Regardless, truth or not, he tells Cyno about it when he’s sure that Collei will hear by accident.

Is Cyno in on it? Hm, who knows?

[jadegreenimmortality]

Bungou Stray Dogs Men as Househusbands pt.1 - Sakunosuke Oda

A/N: I’m sorry that this isn‘t a request, but this brain rot has been going on since forever and now I can’t resist it anymore. I totally blame @hanazou for this. There will also be a part two featuring Chuuya, but his part has a completely different feeling to it, that's why I'll post these separately. Besides of that, this is basically an “Way of the Househusband!AU”. Go watch the show or read the manga if you don’t know it, it’s absolutely hilarious! This is mainly focused on them as househusbands, but since you are their spouse, there’s also a bit of reader insert. Also, a lot of Oda as a dad to his orphans. And the whole thing is feat. Dazai. (^^)

Pairings: Oda x gn!reader

Genre: Crack, domestic fluff

Warnings: none

Summary: You, Oda and the orphans move in together. While you become the working spouse, your loving husband stays at home and becomes a full-time househusband.

pt. 2

First things first - If you agree to marrying Sakunosuke Oda, you are also agreeing to become the parent of five children. Oda loves you and you are one of two main reasons he’s leaving the Mafia, the other being his life purpose. But if he’s leaving the Mafia, he’s keeping those kids in (if they want him to of course, but you can’t tell me they don’t, come on -)

So yeah, be ready.

He only cooks spicy curry at the beginning. The curry shop owner gave him the exact recipe of his favourite plate as a goodbye gift and that’s the only thing he is cooking for days on end. He has some basic cooking skills, but this is the only really elaborated dish he knows how to prepare as of now, so be ready to suffer from the spice. It will go on like that until all six of you you and the kids hold an intervention for him. The kids will paint nice banners like they were going to a demonstration saying "No more curry" that they hang up in the living room and he’ll be greeted by your sorrowful face when he comes back from buying groceries.

“What’s this?” – “Oh honey, I’m so sorry, its just…” – “WE CAN’T TAKE THE SPICE ANYMORE STOP COOKING CURRY ALREADY!” – “…I mean…yeah.”

Of course, he’ll be a bit embarrassed and disappointed. May scratch his neck and look to the side thoughtfully. But he’ll take your plead seriously.

This is also how you bond with the kids for the first time. Congratulations, huddling up against someone is always the best way to bond!

He works hard on his cooking skills after that and becomes quite the formidable cook. He takes suggestions from you and the kids and will try to learn how to cook anything you might fancy to eat. It’s really important to him that all of you are happy and cooking may be the most important job of a house spouse, so he takes it very seriously.

There will be curry Tuesday though. One day of spice hell. Enjoy.

Please picture Oda in his usual attire, wearing a beige “kiss the cook” apron over it and bunny slippers. You’re welcome.

He'll learn how to make anime and cartoon-themed bentos for the kids, so it's highly probable you'll get cutely designed bentos as well. Again, you may drop suggestions, he’ll absolutely take them into considerations. Octopus sausages, bunny apple slices, cute bear faces made out of rice, he’ll learn to do them all. He isn’t too sappy of a person, but if he’s feeling romantic while cooking, your rice could also have the shape of a heart. Either way, your co-workers will be very envious of your food and your husband.

Oda iss the master of negotiation at the food market. He’ll be completely stoic all the time, not aggressive or dismissive at all, but he’ll point out little flaws of the products in a way that most shop owner’s won’t be able to deny and that’s how he gets discounts. He doesn’t want to cheat anyone out of their money, but he does have seven mouths to feed.

He may not look like it, but if any of the kids tag along for his grocery shopping, it's really hard for him to deny them something if they beg for it. He may seem unnervingly calm all the time, but he’s a big softie, especially for those kids and for you, and if they hang at his sleeves long enough, they’ll get that ice-cream they want so badly. That doesn’t work on pricier items though, he can be a strict parent when really needed.

Oda is great at handling the finances. He’s well aware that he has to be thrifty with five kids. Still, there is one thing where he struggles to keep his control: books.

If you agree to it, the apartment will have an absolutely minimalistic interior, but! In your living room, there will be a shelf full of books, so big it covers a whole wall. That’s it, that’s Oda’s only weak spot when spending money.

It’s not only books for him though. He buys books for you when he sees something from your favourite author or genre. He buys books for the kids so they learn the joy of literature. Poems, bed time stories he wants them to grow up appreciating the possibilities of the written word.

You can bet that he’ll read them bed time stories. Only one book for all five of them though, so one kid gets to choose a story each day.

He’ll read to you as well if you want him to. His voice is incredibly calm and soothing, he’s a really good reader. There’s a high probability you’ll fall asleep while he reads to you. You can cuddle up in bed and rest your head on his shoulder or sit on his lap and hide your face in the crook of his neck, feeling the vibration of his voice in his chest.

Whenever he has some time to spare, he’ll retire to your shared bedroom to write. Mind you, that won’t happen often. It happens mainly on weekends, when the kids are with friends and/or you are at home. If you want to do him a favour, consider cooking on the weekends, he’ll be more than thankful for the opportunity to submerge in his beloved writing. But don’t worry, it won’t consume him – he’ll always put some time aside to spent with you, without the kids, as well ¬‿¬.

He's so polite with the neighbours. Will pay all his neighbours a short visit together with the kids to introduce himself and bring little gifts. Just imagine him standing there in the door frame, witih all five kids around his legs, smiling at their new neighbours angelically - what's not to love?

He really wants to maintain a good relationship to all of them. Basically, he’s the perfect neighbour – always polite, always up to a little chat, always ready to listen to neighbour A complain over neighbour B without snitching. He’s mainly concerned for the wellbeing the kids though. He wants them to feel part of the community and often arranges play dates with the neighbour kids. If it's possible at the neighbour’s house because five kids are a lot to handle already…and when they are all out of the apartment, it’s cleaning time.

Oda is an angel of patience and the ultimate multitasker. He isn’t left with much of a choice with five kids, but thankfully, calm lies in his nature. You may see him explaining Sakura her math homework while cutting vegetables for today’s lunch. Then, he’ll take a quick glance out of the window to see if they boys are still playing on the street where he can see them and then he’ll check on Sakura again. Isn’t he lovely?

His ability is unexpectedly helpful for all of this. If he’s in the living room to clean, his ability will alarm him if the food’s about to burn. If he’s around the kids, he’ll know in time if one is about to trip. If you come home from work so tired you fall asleep face first in your soup, he’ll be able to catch you. So useful.

He’s a very attentive and loving husband. His love is mainly expressed by keeping the house as clean as he can and putting a lot of effort into cooking. Your work is hard enough, he takes it upon himself to manage everything else. He’ll also try to have the kids well-behaved so they don’t demand too much from you after you come home from work. Though if you decide to pull yourself together and give them attention and love even when tired, he’ll be more than thankful. He knows it’s a lot to ask to be a parent, especially to not one, but FIVE kids that are not yours by blood. So if you actively seek to have a close bond to them, it will make him so incredibly happy because he knows it’s not the natural course of action for everyone.

Will give you head, shoulder and foot massages after an especially excruciating day of work. His hands are skillful and he knows where to touch to make you moan to release the tension from your muscles.

Likes to lie his head in your lap after both of you had a long day of work. Yes, you may be the provider, but keeping a house clean and five kids under control isn’t an easy job either! So, he’ll seek peace laying his head on your thighs and closing his eyes while you tussle his hair and tell him about your day. Don’t expect more than a mumbled “Mm” or “I see” from time to time, but be sure that he’s listening.

And the Port Mafia? You’re in luck - since he was the lowest-ranking member, The Mafia, by which I mean Mori isn’t bothered that he left. He refused to kill anyways, he’s to no use to them him.

Of course, Oda will try to be absolutely sure there is no hidden reason for Mori to hinder his leave beforehand, or to resent him for it. The last thing he wants is to endanger you or the kids by leaving his job as a criminal.

If he ever meets a member of the PM in public, he'll act as if he doesn't know them. He may give them a polite nod if they make eye contact, but that’s about it. It’s not that he resents them, but he really wants to start a new life here that isn’t connected to killing and cruelty at all. If they approach him he'll be very polite, but try to keep the conversation short, even if they seem to have no ulterior motive.

Of course, there’s one member of the Port Mafia that marks the exception, by which I mean to say that you’ll have Osamu Dazai over for tea regularly. No, he won’t announce himself at all. The first time he appears at your apartment, you’re just finishing to unpack. He’ll tand at your doorstep all of a sudden to tell Oda that Mori already knows where he moved to. Oda will just nod as an acknowledgement. He expected as much. And then he’ll give you a questioning look. If you nod, he’ll officially asking his friend to stay for dinner. You’ll be having curry.

From then on, he’ll just drop by whenever. You may come back home from time to time to find dinner ready, the kids in bed and your husband and Dazai drinking. If you join them, you will have some truly joyful evenings spend together. You’re Oda’s chosen one, so Dazai is a bit more inclined to let you get close than he is with others. You may make a new friend in the process.

It doesn’t take a lot of time for the kids to start calling him Uncle Dazai. He’ll actually be Uncle Dazai before they ever call Oda Dad or you Mom/Dad. It will take them mere weeks to call him uncle, but months, maybe years to call the two of you Dad/Mom. It will happen eventually though, and the day it happens, I assure you that you will see Oda spill tears of happiness. He’ll be looking away, wiping his face with one hand and smiling. He never thought he would want this, but now he knows he does.

Back to Dazai! He’s reserved with the kids at first. As we know, he doesn’t feel all to comfortable around “childish behaviour”. But kids are like cats, the feel drawn to the one that’s most cautious. By which I mean to say that they are all over him. Literally. Oda will leave for five minutes and when he’s back at the living room the kids will have tackled a slightly unnerved Dazai on the floor. Sakura wants him to see the drawings she made, Katsumi, Kousuke and Yuu want to play, Shinji wants to ask him what's under his bandages. He’ll have no choice but to oblige and it goes surprisingly well. Oda may abuse him as a baby-sitter when he visits from then on.

Then suddenly, Dazai stops visiting altogether. You are worried, but Oda, for some reason, isn’t. Even more, whenever you ask him about it, you may catch him smiling to himself in a satisfied, proud way. No, Dazai didn’t tell him anything. If Oda would know, it would endanger all of you. But he knows. He knows that Dazai finally made his choice to leave the Port Mafia and needs to lay low now. And that’s okay.

It takes Dazai two years to come back, which will be just as sudden as him leaving. You’ll be astounded to see him a changed man at first sight. Oda will scold him for not sending any notice and then everything is normal again. And after some more years, he’ll start bringing along a scrawny kid with white hair.

A/N: Wow, this is the first post I put a "keep reading" link in because it's so long! That's kind of a milestone for me. ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this! Thank you for reading!

[flusteredloser]

subzero - beverly marsh x fem!reader

it fandom week: huddling for warmth

content warnings: mentions of intoxication, smoking, swearing, fire, harmless threats, inhaler abuse, enemies to lovers, also i’m making bev tall bc i love tall gals word count: 3k

at the ripe age of ten years old, you knew you wanted to become a mother. the appeal of bouncing children in your lap, tucking them into bed, and the empowering feeling of calming tantrums down was something you naively believed was your destiny.  now, ten-year-old you was never wrong, you knew that. but what you didn’t expect was for your dream to come true at eighteen, stuck mothering six drunken teenage sons during a hailstorm’s power outage.

“edward. kaspbrak. i swear to god, if you do not go to sleep right now i will knock you out with your own inhaler.”

eddie groans at your words, still teeter-tottering towards the mattress. richie was already in bed, practically dead for a past half-hour. 

thankfully, he didn’t wake up from his comatose state when eddie gracefully slammed headfirst into the bed. you held your breath as the bed shook under eddie’s weight. drunken eddie was already a nightmare, what more, an even worse nightmare when catalysed with richie’s antics.  mike was slightly more useful. after throwing up in almost every sink in the house, he helped carry a very tipsy ben up the stairs and they were now both unconscious down the hall. bill wasn't exactly a disturbance, but he was incredibly determined to show us that he could play the piano right now if asked, that his skills were only heightened after dark. (the fact that bill had never touched a piano in his life, or that bev's apartment didn't even have a piano wasn't stopping him). bev was taking care of them in the other room, and based on the muffled conversation, was still trying to coax bill to sleep.  you and bev being the losers’ designated sober pair for tonight was the worst idea that had ever occurred to anyone. ever. the eight of you agreed. if you needed something done, you’d never leave the two of you to do it together.  but stan had explained that the rotation required the two of you to pair up tonight, no matter what. you didn’t quite understand the necessity of it but in all honesty, you’d rather put up with bev’s clownery than upset stan further.   speaking of, you glance at the lump on the floor, peacefully swaddled and engulfed in the massive duvet. you should probably check on stan’s breathing later. 

now, though, you still had one child left.

hearing the sound of an air pump go off from the bed, you walk back to eddie.

“but i’m so cold and i’m not even tired,” said eddie, his inhaler still jammed in his mouth.

“eddie, the power will be back in no time, and if you keep pumping that shit in your mouth, you’re never going to feel tired,” you sigh, taking the aspirator away.

“no, but seriously.” eddie continues, his eyes filled with sleep-deprived mania. “i swear, i’m like wide awake, i don’t even need sleep right now, it’s technically the morning and nO WHAT THE HELL-”

clutching the pump in your hand, you watch the white vapour shoot against eddie’s face. nothing but eddie’s exasperated coughing filled the room.

“i told you, i’m not afraid to use this.”

“i thought...you said...you were going to...knock me out with it,” eddie questioned between coughs.

you narrow your eyes at him, “you keep this up and i will knock you with it.” 

“wow, you really are gonna make a great mother someday.”  you let out a deep groan, turning to see where the new voice came from. leaning against the doorframe with a lit cigarette between her fingers was bev in all her smug glory. 

“you know, after dealing with kaspbrak tonight, he makes you look like an angel,” you roll your eyes.

“hey!” you hear a muffled voice from under the blanket. 

“go to sleep, pretty boy,” bev chuckles, some smoke escaping with her laugh, “i know it’s hard after seeing her troll face but you have to try.”

you rolled your eyes again at the two giggles in the room, shuffling around the bed, carefully stepping around stan’s body. you continue to walk past bev and into the hall. 

the house was silent. no one lived here anymore but bev since you guys graduated, and since mr. marsh stopped residing here, the apartment had an almost peaceful quality.

walking past the guest room, you grin at the sight of mike, ben, and bill entwined together on the floor. oh, how much tamer this group would’ve been compared to the menaces next door. 

you snatch your backpack from the living room sofa and dug through the pockets anxiously. searching against the walls of your bag and still finding nothing, you began to feel more and more nervous. “fucking hell, where is it,” you whisper. at this rate, you weren’t sure if the thumping in your ears was from the sound of sharp hail hitting the windows or your heart beating in your throat. you stand up in a deeper panic, aggressively patting your pockets up and down.

“you know, as entertaining as this is to watch, i almost feel bad.” 

“bev..." you sigh. "i am not in the mood."

“why? too busy looking for your pack of camels?” you hear the sound of a familiar cardboard flap opening, “personally, i’m more of a marlboro girl but i mean, these work too.”

you spin around and storm up to bev, snatching the lit cigarette from her lips. “that’s mine?”

she smirks, “you left your backpack open, it was practically an invitation.” 

“an invitation for you to go through my shit?” you hissed, dangling the ignited end near her face.

she snatched her cig back and mockingly dangling it back near your face, “yeah, a formal invitation for me to smoke off this monstrosity of a temperature. what do you want, an apology too? i can write you one asap, let me find bill’s notebook-”

taking the cig back once more, you snap. "you’re such an ass, bev.”

she grins, following closely behind you. she could feel the heat radiating off of your body, and she secretly hoped you’d accidentally stop in your tracks so she could run into you. in the name of transferring body heat and what not. shaking off these thoughts that were hijacking her brain, she makes a kissy sound, “c’mon, you know you love it.”

“mmhm sure, bev. because i’m really into girls stealing my shit.”

pinching the flame from the cig and dumping it in the tray, she leads the both of you into the supply closet. she chuckles as she leans against the doorway, leaving you feeling trapped in the tight room. you knew she was laughing because you insisted on going in first and now that you were the one having to get the stuff, but you didn’t quite register that the things you needed was on the top shelf. up high stood a high stack of blankets. and they looked like they could singlehandedly cure the subzero temperature. 

clearly, you must have been looking up at the blankets for a moment too long because bev gave up and leaned forwards to grab the stack. the sensation of her flushed against your back was enough to make you dizzy, not to mention how absolutely warm she was. and of course... it was bev. 

bev. the girl who you rolled your eyes at every day, the girl who taunts you at any given minute, the girl you would, and had, risked your life for. you guys never talk about neibolt, but sometimes you catch yourself thinking of what could have happened if it went south. if you hadn’t grabbed her in time, and if you didn’t switch places just before pennywise launched at you...  absentmindedly tracing the scar down your stomach, you think of the absolute lack of regret you feel to this day. you always had this joke that you wanted to kill her, but how much of that was true?

“darling, did the cold already go and rot your brain?” bev faux-pouts, “not that there was much to begin with, but i’m still worried.” the stack of blankets was now under her arms with one stretched out as she began to wrap it around herself.

never mind. sometimes you did want to kill her. 

by habit, you went on your tip toes in order to get to bev’s face, but she was already crouched a couple inches from your face. trying to keep your racing heart under wraps, you choke out a semi-convincing “don’t make me murder you, beverly.”

she grins back your serious face. "aww no, i couldn’t let you do that. the knives and other weapons are also stored up there.” she teases, slinging her arm around your shoulder and dragging you to deliver the blankets to the boys. 

"oh, fuck off." you shove bev's arm off of you and walked back into richie, eddie, and stan's room. true to your word, you kneeled down to the floor and gently rolled stan’s head towards you. placing your two fingers against his pulse point, you giggle to yourself at the absurd action. if it wasn’t already obvious that he was indeed alive, he groans under you, but you shush him in time. lightly stroking his curls, you whisper. "i’m just checking up on you, stan,” placing the second blanket onto him. he groaned back.

quietly tip-toeing towards the bed, you tossed the other blanket over richie and eddie. “i swear, these guys would be dead already without us.” you laugh to yourself. 

a dim light flickers from the living room and casts a light across the hall. you shut the door behind you as you leave, going into the living room to see bev on the sofa, engulfed in her own large fleece blanket. the only thing peeking out was her face and hands as her she alternated flickering her lighter's warmth on her fingers. 

without thinking, you plop by her on the sofa. “whatcha doing there, you pyro?”

“it’s getting so fucking cold,” bev half-heartedly jokes. you can see her eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, but her voice was so contradictingly soft it made your heart melt.

you extended your open hand to her and she stared at it. “blood oath part two? promise to never be sober again during a powercut?”

“i wish, and shut up. don’t play dumb with me, beverly.”

you notice the slightest tinge in her cheeks as she places her hand along with her lighter in yours. you immediately recoil at her freezing fingertips and the lighter clatters to the ground. bev rolls her eyes and shifts away, “first you want to hold my hand, secondly you’re acting like i have fucking HIV.”

“firstly, smartass, i’d still hold your hand if you had HIV-”

“aww-”

“because it’s a blood-borne pathogen so unless you bleed or shit or lactate on my hand, i’m safe.”

bev’s face scrunches up. “how romantic.”

“now shut it and give me your hand already.” you say, placing your palm out for her again.

now bev is the one rolling her eyes at you for a change. she gives you her hand, much slower this time though, careful not to have you pull away again. not having you pull away? why was this something she was considering? 

immediately, bev felt the heat from your skin radiate against hers’, instantly igniting her skin in goosebumps. she instinctively gave you her other hand and you take with a soft smile. 

“now...why the hell are you built like a goddamn radiator.” bev grumbled, rubbing her hands together under yours.

“well, i don’t see you complaining, do i?” you raise your eyebrows.

“i’m not mad...it’s just that it’s not like you need it,” bev says between chuckles, “you’re like five feet tall. not exactly a lot of surface area to heat up.”

“you’re such a dick, bev. you’re losing your hand-holding privileges,” you side-eye, pulling your warm fingers away.

she gasped, “oh, don’t you dare.”

“yes, i do. it’s not like i’m dying to feel your freezing hands on me, bev.” you desperately try to make the statement sound as sarcastic as you can, but it ends up coming out much shakier than expected. 

even in the dark, you can see the glint of bev’s mischievous grin. “oh really? you don’t want to feel my freezing hands?” “is that a trick question?” you sigh exasperatedly, “because if you as much as-”

suddenly, you feel bev’s ice-cold fingers press against the skin on your ribcage and you immediately squeal. you clamp your hand over your mouth at the scare, you try and contain the others sounds that escape you as she further presses her freezing hands against your warm skin. scrambling away from her grasp, you slap the back of her head.

“you stop that right now or i will leave you on your own porch to freeze,” you threaten through gritted teeth.

“mmhm, like you would.” she teases, continuing to press the pads of her still-cold fingertips into your stomach. 

you felt your heart rate rise significantly, to the point that you were sure that your unknown warmness was actually due to bev making the blood pump 10x more than normal. every braincell swimming inside your head was on the brink of short-circuiting at the feeling of bev’s hands dancing along the edge of your bra. what the hell is she thinking?

after a couple more rounds of her threatening to freeze your midriff and you threatening to crack open a window, you both surrender and allow her keep her hands clasped between yours, resting atop your chest.

“are you not getting any warmer?” you groan, forcing yourself to snap out of your own feelings. 

“hey, you’re the hot-pack here. do you think i’m feeling any warmer?” she goes back to press her freezing palms against your stomach.

“no, no, no, do not do that again.”

bev sighs, “then what the hell am i supposed to do?” she sits upright and tightens the blanket around her head. shifting away from you, she shivers her way back into the other end of the sofa. “i’m dressed in triple the layers you are, moved around way more than you have, i’m even wearing this gigantic fleece eyesore-”

“oh for fuck’s sake just come back here.” you roll your eyes.

bev moves about an inch closer. 

you feel your heart constrict in your chest and you let yourself say it before you could think it any further, “i said, come here.” you lift one of your arms and gesture for her to come closer. scooting your body near to the end of the sofa, it was clear that the space you made was so she could easily crawl in next to you.

“are- are you... you want me to-”

you’re sure your whole face has gone red. bev she already can’t stand you so why not just make it even more awkward, huh? you bit your tongue gently, calming yourself down. if bev didn’t know that you offered to cuddle with her just because you could, then that was her fault for being so daft. you sigh, resuming back into your deadpan state. “yeah, i can’t listen to another minute of your whinging.”

“no, i heard you, i just-” she stammers, looking equally red herself. you feel a huge tiny sense of pride as you realised you’ve rendered bev speechless. beverly marsh. speechless.  

“what are you waiting for?” you tease, “a formal invitation?” 

having the upper hand for once was refreshing, if not thrilling. being the one to tease her and watch her become flustered was something you wish could happen more often. 

bev’s face breaks out in the softest smile you’ve ever seen. she slowly makes her way over to you, shifting her body close to yours without touching you yet. “is that too much to ask for? a formal invitation?” you let out an unexpected genuine laugh at her silliness and bev giggles in unison. this was different than your default laughter made of semi-amusement and sarcasm. she rests her weight against you, her cheek gently pressing into your collarbone. her fingertips resume their spot against the flushed skin of your stomach and your own cheeks turn red again. there wasn’t a functional reason for her to do that anymore.

“stop that before i regret this, bev.”

“there’s no way in hell you regret this.” she grins, followed by the faintest whisper of an “i sure don’t.”

you were about to reply and perhaps mention how you’d be okay with her falling asleep in your arms, that you could tolerate such juvenile behaviour. you know, in the name of public health and safety, but bev beats you to it.

“just let me warm up here for ten minutes, alright. then you can let go and i’ll sleep on my side right after,” she rushes out.

that wasn’t how you thought it was going to know. your heart sinks slightly at her words but you try not to take it personally. what else could you do? it was almost like a wake-up call, reminding the both of you that this wasn’t normal for you and bev. 

after a minute or so, you found yourself absentmindedly weaving your fingers through bev’s auburn hair, gently combing it with your hands like you did earlier with stan. “you have such soft hair,” you whisper against her hair. 

you hear her mumble against the blanket indistinguishably and you find yourself closing your eyes at the vibrations of her voice against you. if only bev wanted to stay here like this and this feeling between the two of you could last more than the next ten minutes. you let your eyelids drift down momentarily, and you smile at the thought.

just a couple minutes later, your mind jolts back awake, and your heart sinks at the thought of having to wake her up so she could move to her side of the sofa and sleep. you reach over to feel the ends of her hair between your fingers again, grounding yourself to this feeling one last time before bev had to wake up. once you peel your eyes open however, you immediately shut them against the bright light shining at you. was richie planning on abducting y’all in the middle of the night again? gently prying your eyes open for the second time, you notice the light is shining from the window. you sigh in relief.

wait. the window? 

your eyes shoot open fully. the hail had stopped. and it’s day time. 

snapping your head down to bev, you take in her figure still fit snugly into your side. her free arm rests across your chest, her legs were entwined with yours. ...and her electric blue eyes stare right into you. your heart instantly jumps into your throat as you scramble for excuses, fuck, anything that would keep you from explaining yourself.

instead, she shifts her body upwards so she’s fit even tighter against your side,  placing her face into the crook of your neck. her lips were right at your pulse point, sending your mind spiralling at the thought that she could probably feel how fast your heart was beating right now. her lips move against your skin, saying something barely above a whisper.

“you tell anyone about this and i’ll fucking end you.”

[stylistiquements]

The Sorcerer pt. 1

Corpse Husband x gn!reader

Reincarnation AU | Summary :

The same candle lights up on Corpse’s desk every time you are reborn and turn 23. He has been looking for you during centuries but this time you might be closer than anticipated.  {Playlist}

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧����𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

You’re about to blow your 23rd candles and Corpse is about to experience the consequences of it. Somehow, something about your rebirth is different this time.

☾ Words : 6009.

☾ Warnings : angst, mention of death (only suggested and not specific), grieving, swearing 

Masterlist | Next 

What does it mean to be a sorcerer in 2021? Corpse wonders as he chooses an outfit for his black bean character, lightly tapping his fingers in a crafted rhythm against his dark wooden desk. Nothing, really. The modern days turned his kind into a groundless concept, legendary creatures at best and it’s truly a shame when you think about it.

“Alright, are you ready?” Corpse asks as he moves his mouse above the “start” button and projects everyone into a new round.

“I won’t forgive you like I did last round,” Karl warns Corpse, dash of amusement in his tone.

“Sure,” he scoffs and the devious ghost of a smile shines on his lips when the bloody word “imposter” appears above his virtual pink cat hat.

Sorcerers used to be the rulers of this world and the most famous of well-hidden secrets; no one talked about it yet everyone knew. You just had to be here, respect and adoration followed their every move. People from all horizons went out of their way to meet them in hope of witnessing a miracle.

Oh, how the tables have turned now. They didn’t have to hide their face back then and it all went the harmonious way until a certain day when their fate met a tragic outcome. The day when life took a turn for the hidden.

Corpse is somehow retired now. Maybe that’s why he started doing youtube in the first place; because the craving of being needed had to be fulfilled one way or another. Or maybe because the thrill of life has been gone for so long he had to try everything to fill the void in hope of feeling a drip of something again. The weariness of a mere life stiffened in his rib cage from time to time, preventing a proper breathing.

He could have still been able to practice his magic facelessly -he wouldn’t be the first one to do so after all- but it seems crazy, surreal even, for him to picture being so public about such a heavy little secret nowadays. He found comfort in the concealed, in the invisible so long ago.

See, that’s the most important reason why Corpse is who he is today but stopping the explanations there would be neglecting the truth. Corpse would, but I'm more honest than he is.

Somehow, he believes a little too seriously that a kid’s app was designed to ruin his life. He feels this rotting taste that burns his tongue every time he thinks about it, he always talks about it with great passion; as if one minute videos could compete against the thundering energy that travels from his veins to the tip of his fingers. Witchcraft tiktok got the last bit of his ancestral pride and that’s a damn shame.

His character ambles around the hostile corridors dipped in yellow light, looking for a prey to slice in half. He doesn’t have a plan yet but he sure knows how to improvise by now. Corpse deems that he’s rather good at it. He meets Tina in O2. She’s wandering around, running like a headless chicken. What if he took that expression a little too seriously? Alas, he can’t wrap his mind around the idea of the unforgivable and she escapes his reach. Corpse’s nose wrinkles, better luck next time.

His fictional blood thirst gets stronger when he hops inside a vent and observes Rae’s red character doing her tasks. Corpse knows what comes next, it’s inevitable. A hint of excitement and nervousness hatch on his chest.

At the same time on the other side of the country, the ones you love are carrying a big cake to your table. It seems so silly and it leaves you slightly embarrassed that people are celebrating the fact that you were born but, somehow, you can’t forbid that smile to reach your ears.

When you look at the cake, a snort escapes your control. Your friends drew a glazed picture of you but you find yourself hoping that there isn’t much resemblance between that Picasso-ish designed cake and your actual face. I mean, except for that particularity your face displays; eyes that don’t match in colors, one green and one hazel, it really just looks like a kid's doodle.

23, what a weird number. It doesn’t sit quite right with you for some reason. 22 is fine, same goes for 24 but 23 … Somehow, it feels like something is either missing or too much. You’re not too sure which one it could be.

The warmth that emanates from the candles is sweet and tickles your chin softly and everyone is singing along the most disastrous birthday wishes. You’re preparing for your wish. What could you need more? You’re a faceless horror narrator on youtube and life is just about good. I mean, there really isn’t much to complain about and that should be enough.

Your mind drifts off for a second, contemplating what the dream life could be about while one of your friends is already complaining about wax getting all over your glazed face. You could wish for material things but they come and go and their meaning is only ephemeral, maybe 23 is about getting more than that.

Ah, found it. You close your eyes. May I find the place where I truly belong. 23 candles are blown in one breath, not a bad performance.

That’s when the candle on Corpse’s desk starts shining a delicate and orange shade.

Corpse doesn’t notice it at first, too impregnated by his hunt, but when the unusual warmth finally informs him of the merry event, he wrestles to keep his mind into the game. His virtual character stands motionless for a second as he mutes his mic and takes his headphones off.

Fuck, not now please.

Somewhere, a new version of the love of his life turned 23. His mind drifts off, wandering near this idea as his eyes meet the flame.

It’s been hundreds of years and that fucking candle kept you hostage of his mind. Because Corpse couldn’t forget about you, he built those walls to provide you from slipping away, from invading too much of his busy mind. It was a compromise he made with himself so he couldn’t reach you entirely and, therefore, miss you completely. Yet, your rebirth leaks through the pores of his brain and past the fences no matter how hard he tries.

Corpse battles to breathe, he tries to get his mind back on the game but somehow his throat is already filling with a dangerously acidic concoction. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice immediately the way his fingers start shaking at a painstaking rhythm.

He moves his character around. Left and right. It’s mechanical and meaningless, nothing but a lost cause. Corpse clenches his grip around the mouse, hoping that the unsteadiness would pity him. How much longer can he carry that feeling? It sits on his shoulders and his chest. It tests out his patience, his own resistance to pain.

“Corpse!” Rae shouts wholeheartedly, rooting him out of his spiral. “Where are you?!”

Fuck; he has no ounce of idea of what is happening in real life, too busy going down this familiar and intimate loop once more. He swallows it all, praying that you would spare him some earned mercy. You’re always so cruel, unabashedly sneaking in and taking over his space despite all his efforts.

“I-huh- I’m in medbay, I have scan," he bluffs, hoping that no one would notice the way his voice cracks at the end.

Because if anyone did, he would have to admit that he’s not okay, that he never was and doubts that he ever will be. Just as if conceding the facts would’ve allowed him to feel how flourishing his despair was. There’s this knot inside his throat. It’s painful and he’s so tired. How many times was he left crawling on his bathroom’s floor when his heart fractured a little deeper? He misses you every fucking day but each rebirth brings back more and more longing.

He would love to abandon himself to the aching pleasure of this unsolicited reminiscence but he knows that if he did, you would possess him wholly and never give him back. You plague his mind like a mist that grows thicker and thicker on his lungs. It diffuses everywhere and intoxicates what’s left of him.

“Sure sleepy but that’s bullshit,” Tina whines. “We know it’s Corpse. He’s been sus’ the entire round!”

“He said he had scan, right?” Sean interferes, believing that Corpse is the jester. “Why don’t you give him the benefit of the doubt?”

They’re all waiting for Corpse to step in, to defend himself but he’s no longer here, too busy trying to swallow the emotions that are leaking all over the place. It gnaws him alive, piece by piece and it hurts so fucking much. Will it ever stop?

Silence is convenient, “I voted” badges get pinned on everyone’s chest. His black character falls into the lava, what an ironic metaphor.

“Sorry guys, something came up and I gotta go.” He finally says, hurry in his voice. He doesn’t try to hide it. In fact, he can’t.

“Are you s…” Rae’s voice gets cut abruptly when Corpse quits the call without further notice.

Corpse knows what’s next, when his head gets overcrowded by feelings and his heart too empty. It’s ugly, it’s messy and oh how he wishes it would be different this time.

The room is spinning from the crumbs of your sweet face and the trickle of your voice that drips through his ears as if you were still here. He clings onto that distorted and stained picture as if it was the ultimate proof that you were real. Were you even real once ? Remembering feels like repeating a word over and over again: with time, it loses its meaning. It wasn’t you he remembered, Corpse figured it out a long time ago. You weren’t there anymore.

The thought of it drives him crazy. He wishes he could get rid of that fucking candle, constant reminder of your rebirth away from him, constant reminder of the defeat he has to endure every time you turn 23 and you’re still not by his side. He has been looking for you everywhere for hundreds of years, from the biggest capitals to the most secluded parts of this world, without a single hint of your existence. You’re his greatest failure and he can’t, he won’t stand that.

Corpse grabs the candle and it collides with the floor with a thud that tangles with his raw voice. His chest moves heavily. It's scattered and in discord and there is this distorted gaze on his face when he remembers that the candle cannot be shattered. It’s this unsolicited spark of self-awareness that brings him closer to reality. Fuck. What the fuck is he doing? Corpse finally lost his damn mind. His hands wander uncontrollably in his hair and he looks around frantically for a second, trying to remember how to survive.

Corpse’s head is pressuring him, rushing him to turn off his computer and spill the words that are stuck on the back of his tongue on a piece of paper. That grip is unforgivable and unclear but he starts writing as if it was the only thing left to do, maybe it is. It feels like survival instinct at this point, it feels like the last attempt to collect the pieces of himself you left behind.

Dear you,

Happy birthday, wherever you are in this world. Another letter is about to join the pile. How many are there already? I wouldn’t know. I stopped counting since it made me sick.

As every time, I hope it’s the best birthday you have ever had. I remember the twenty-third birthday we spent together as if it were yesterday. I can no longer recall the way your eyes wrinkled under your bright smile or the sound of your echoing laughter but I do remember that warm feeling inside my chest, the pain in my cheeks from laughing with all my heart. How pleasant was it to be able to live it all with you? To be able to embrace you, to breathe you, to see you. Forgive me, my love, for I am no longer capable of picturing anything of you. I wish I could. I wish I could be haunted by a proper ghost, at least, and not just a glimpse of the range of emotions that animated me when you were by my side. All I can remember now is that you felt like a firework and that my eyes never met a prettier human. It’s so truly unfair to think about the fact that no one matters as much as you still do.

I am drifting off, am I? I always tend to do that in those letters. I hope you’re doing well, I really do. Did you spend your birthday with the ones who love you? I hope you’re happy and healthy. It’s the only important thing, or at least that’s what I have learned so far.

I hate those letters, they make me realize how lonely I am. Somehow, it feels like I’m expecting an answer that is never going to arrive.

Fuck. My skin aches from the lack of your touch. I miss you so fucking much. Just tell me what to do. I tried everything and you’re still stuck inside my brain. I’m a sorcerer for fuck’s sake, one of the most powerful beings to have ever existed and yet the concept of one single human defeats me day after day, rebirth after rebirth. I’m a fucking shame for my kind. I hate you. I love you so very much. Happy birthday.

Yours truly, Corpse Husband

The paper is stained by the storm that has been building up in Corpse's mind for hours. The letters are deformed now. Look at the mess you just made. He throws the letters away, where he can no longer see it and brings his knees to his chest, resting his head between his legs. He feels like screaming one more time but he’s choking. Sweet and sore agony grips his throat as his veins are burning with thick poison.

Don’t be fooled, Corpse would have been able to cast a spell or two to forget about your existence and spare himself a bit. Yet, it would only erase the last proof he had of you, not his feelings. He would have to bear the burden of a quest he could no longer figure out. He would be left longing for something that no longer existed. As if it wasn’t the case already. He wishes he could sleep, life would be so fucking easier if he could just fall asleep.

A few days have passed since your birthday. The thread between days and nights is thin and confusing and the candle on Corpse’s desk is still radiating with as much energy as the first day.

Corpse’s head is heavy, aching, he wonders if he could still carry it on his shoulders if he wasn’t lying on his bed. That sore body feels like it has been drained from an eagerness that has been growing for too long. Corpse groans, trying to figure out what’s sheets and blankets and what’s limbs, living up to the name he chose for himself.

Every ray of the sun is burning his skin. It leaves his body smelling like heat, he doesn't like that smell. Now, he could just get up and draw the curtains but that laziness is as weary as infiltrated. If only it could rain, maybe it would soothe his nerves and his growing migraine.

After a few minutes of silent fulminations, Corpse finally unlocks his phone and opens his texts one by one just to ignore them. He’s curled up on himself, as if a compressed version of his darkness could help in order to block the light. Sorcerers are supposed to be tied with nature, with every ray of the moon and the sun. His bond with the sun is molded, if not completely doomed to grow untie. Corpse is a sorcerer like no others and that goes without saying.

One text captures his breath and his attention, bringing back some interest into the numbness. It’s coming from you, y/n. Or at least, the “you” from this present life. The “you” who isn’t aware of the past and the “you” Corpse doesn’t know is the one he has been looking for during eternity.

In this life, the two of you aren’t close enough to be friends -and he would never let you take that role- but, by the time of your first Twitter interaction -which consisted of you tweeting emo Sykkuno with tattoo pictures and Corpse replying with a meme that said "If life is a simulation please turn it off", Corpse knew you should be near him at all time. Not too close for you to actually be able to touch him but definitely not too far. It’s peculiar but something that has to be felt, not explained; a primitive hunch so loud it couldn’t be unheard.

His mind is awake again. The plan for today, which consisted of him rotting in his bed, seems compromised right now. Corpse turns to lay on the left side of the bed, where the sheets are cooler. His brows furrow and he sighs heavily as he rubs his eyes with his thumbs.

Corpse really doesn’t know why he’d feel that way in the first place for someone like you. You always seem so organic, radiating, so free in the way you choose to exist. He envies you for being so authentic when all he can afford to do is remain hidden, where no light can really reach him if not to draw a faint shape of his being. No harsh feelings though, it’s just the way he feels about anyone who doesn’t sound fake. There is still a bit of remaining endearment in the way Corpse’s words are thrown at you, you just have to know what to look for.

Now, Corpse trades his horror narrator's advices against some social media help. Those things are bigger than him, he’s too old for that anyway. You think the way he still uses symbols as emojis is charming -no one does that anymore- but Corpse just can’t keep up with today’s slang and way of showing emotions via texts. Kids these days are just too creative with the way they express themselves.

[Hello, Mr Sorcerer, hope you’re doing good. I need your help on something.]

Huh.

He meets your words and his mind gets coated in sweat, frozen blood preventing the next heartbeat from happening. Who told you?

Corpse can’t wrap his mind around the fact that his most precious secret is being exposed with that much negligence. He can count on his fingers the number of people who are aware of his true nature, half of them are actually other magical beings of some sort. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

His head is hammered by thoughts. He thinks he’s screwed, that everyone will know. He can already foresee what is about to come. That’s why there is a bit of fear in the way his eyebrows are arching. His alerted mind screams for him to just throw his phone across the room but his fingers, covered in panic, are faster. The first text he sends is not directed to you, but to Sykkuno, his familiar.

Familiars are to sorcerers what assistants are to magicians. In short -but not limited to- a massive help.

Corpse’s link with Sykkuno transcends the law of words and thoughts. They just understand each other and the way they do, without even having to see each other, is just something that has to be witnessed once in a lifetime. It’s a sort of energy that travels through space, a special connection. It's light and invisible but leaves a warm trail on its way.

However, what doesn’t transcend their bond is the concept of time zone -which Corpse forgot about for a second. Sykkuno is probably asleep right now. Corpse’s panic takes back its race once he realizes he’s on his own and he types:

[Haha, very funny. You know, if you wanted to talk, you just had to say hi :)]

Denial, that will do the trick, right? You can’t be that persistent. Or at least that’s what Corpse hopes when he leaves his phone on an unstable balance on his forehead, waiting for an answer he hopes would spare his mind from yet another issue he has to take care of.

[I knew you’d say that but don’t worry, I promise I won’t snitch,] you reply, lips twitching under a sly smile. [I’m way too afraid of you cursing me or something.]

[Who told you shit like that anyway?]

[I just know someone.]

His expression hardens, that head keeps throbbing harder and harder by the minute. You’re so impetuous and it turns him into an impatient and choleric fog. The topic is too important, crucial and it shows how you truly have no idea what you’re talking about when you act as recklessly as you do.

[Some crazy folk told you about magic and you believed them, huh? Thought you were smarter than that.]

[Dream would be pretty upset if he knew you called him “some crazy folk”.]

Corpse stares numbly at his screen before sitting back on his bed, pulling away from his vision the curly strands that fell down. He throws a bunch of silent curses at the sun which is still attacking him, if not even more now. He types a few words but erases them in a snap, repeating the process once or twice more. Now he has to send another text, this one is for Dream : “we need to talk.”

What a weird day.

Questions, Corpse has so many of them but he can’t stop shaking his head with confusion. He had no idea you knew Dream. Why would Dream reveal something so critical as Corpse’s identity? Why would another sorcerer send you his way? That’s not how things are done unless it’s something they deem they wouldn’t be able to handle and there’s really a few things Dream wouldn’t be able to do. Corpse hesitates for second, fingers fidgeting in the air. He doubts that he would ever be capable of doing something Dream can’t do but does it really matter when, right now, you’re holding information you should never be holding in the first place?

[Feeling like trading secrets under the full moon?] You outbid. It’s always so tempting to tease Corpse when he sounds like a grumpy old man.

[A sincere fuck you.]

[That’s very rude, Mr Sorcerer.]

The way you avoid providing any sort of explanation grows in his mind like weeds that need to be ripped off. Really, from all the good timing in the world, you had to choose the worst one. But there’s the faintest hint of a smile on his lips when he does the math and realizes that, if you wanted to use that secret to your advantage, you would have done it by now. A slow relief that softens his headache. Also, Corpse is well aware that, as annoying as you can get, he can’t refuse you a thing.

[Fine, tell me what you need.]

[So I keep seeing the same number again and again and your name keeps appearing in my head at random times. Still don’t get the correlation but I know there is one. I wanna know the number’s meaning and how I can get rid of you.]

Corpse huffs, he’d like to know that himself. He’s about to laugh it off when he reads the text one more time. Something about it is mysterious enough to pique his curiosity. You mentioned his name, it bothers him. Not that he doesn’t appreciate you thinking about him but because it sounds odd enough to be something related to magic in one way or another. There’s this mix of excitement and apprehension that fills the pit of his stomach and now half of a smile is embellishing his lips. This buzzing sound in his brain, maybe it’s the final signal that he should start practicing magic again, the final signal his life will feel thrilling again.

[Call you in 5. This is a consultation by the way, I’m not doing this for free.]

[Fine, you rat.] You answer with a victorious smile.

Corpse’s words linger in the air. It’s smooth like velvet -you could almost touch it if you pictured it hard enough- and it’s soothing in some way. It’s deep mumbles and bits of light chuckles and a little magic. You’re spinning slowly on your chair, playing with strands of your hair. There’s a different tone in Corpse’s voice. He sounds tired and it’s mixed with something else you can’t really pinpoint. For the best or the worst, that, has yet to be determined.

“So.” Corpse says, bringing you back to reality. “What’s that number you were talking about?”

“Right. So, I keep seeing the number 5 everywhere. I wake up at 5:55 every morning. When my eyes are looking at the clock, it’s 5:55PM and it extends to absolutely everything.” You faintly slap your palm against your thighs in exasperation.

Corpse is silent for a moment as he tries to collect the bits of knowledge that are still hanging here and there inside his mind. As he expected, the pressure below his left eyebrow makes it hard to think. He really doesn’t get why Dream wouldn’t be able to take care of a matter that sounds so frivolous. It feels like the most important piece of the puzzle is missing , the one that makes the whole picture makes sense.

“Okay, this is not really my specialty but the number 5 is an interesting angel number.” Corpse hums. The word “specialty” echoes. Dream talked about that once and somehow, that’s how you finally realized that Corpse was, indeed, a sorcerer. Not that you wouldn’t believe the information in the first place but there’s a remarkable difference between learning and experiencing. What would be his specialty then?

Dream introduced you to this new veil a couple of months ago and you never fully believed in it before getting involved. Maybe that’s why you never talked about it to anyone. Even now, your skeptical nature always finds its way back to you. He said all sorcerers had specialties and that his was clairvoyance. You don’t really know what that means but you wouldn’t ask too much. Knowledge seems like a curse in that field, or at least that’s what you have learned from Dream’s distressed tone when he talked about the past. He always sounded like a broken record, a little out of tune, as if his soul was still partially stuck back there and maybe that’s why Corpse always sounded that way too.

“Do you believe in guardian angels?” You raise an eyebrow, high voice brimming with confusion.

“Do you?” Corpse pauses, you’re silent for a couple of seconds and he realizes that he won’t get an answer to that. “The number 5 is your guardian angel trying to tell you that things are about to change in your life. In fact, it means that the process already started.”

“You’re kinda scaring me though,” you say as you readjust your sit, nose wrinkling under an almost grimace. You don’t like it, you don’t like their world. It’s not yours, you’re only a human with a mere life and an almost mere job. Sometimes, you hate Dream for letting you on this secret you were now forced to keep. It always felt so two faced.

“You don’t have to be scared, the change is only gonna benefit you.” Corpse’s voice is soft and the way you can tell he believes in the words he is speaking is almost as surprising as reassuring. You can’t help it, you don’t like change. The unknown is called that way for a reason and maybe this reason is the explanation for why it needs to remain that way.

“Sure,” you coy. “What do I do about you? That’s what really interests me.”

He scoffs. Trust me, that’s what interests him the most as well. Yet Corpse knows no answer to that. He hesitates for a second and his eyes wander into the void. Should he let you know that he doesn’t have a clue, that it somehow scares him as much as it intrigues you? It feels like his broken sorcerer ego would crack even more if he did. Maybe he just had to find out before letting you know.

“Are you obsessed with me, y/n?” Corpse winces. Why would he have to travel through sarcasmland(™) to escape the question? His eyes go wide for a second, flickering on corners of his empty room. It’s only fair that he would tease you like you tease him, right?

“You’re just being annoying now,” you mumble, cheeks flushing in a vivid tint of pink and Corpse snorts.

Corpse almost forgot about himself for a second, about that damn candle, but it hits him once the conversation fades away and the static silence is the only thing left. So he gets up, grunts in complaint rooted out by sore muscles, turns his computer on and plays some rain sounds. The melody of droplets hitting the ground is reminding him how to breathe.

“Rain sounds, huh,” you whisper. “You like those.”

Corpse hums and the two of you are left listening to the rain. It tickles your ears pleasantly, so you close your eyes and relax in the back of your chair for a moment. It’s a beautiful disharmony if you really pay attention, just like Corpse is. You feel like the conversation is about to end, you don’t want him to hang up just yet.

“Corpse?” Your voice trails for a second and Corpse hums again. “Why did you decide to be faceless?”

“What did Dream answer to that question?” His tone is interesting, a bit higher than it probably should have been. What came up as conversation modalities turns into a piqued interest.

“He never answered me," you mumble.

“So people like you can’t take advantage of our nature in real life too,” he lies and you can tell by the half chuckle that travels with the answer.

You know you won’t get more from him, way less than you wish you did. Those faceless sorcerers always leave you hanging. They let you in on their little Hannah Montana life but never bear the consequence that is this endless and flowing well of questions. The rain rings heavily through your ears. It’s time for the call to end.

"Goodbye, Mr Sorcerer,” you sing before hanging up.

When the darkness finally surrounds Corpse, he slips into a strange place that greets him with a familiar smell; vanilla and freshly cut grass. The birds are singing. He takes a long inspiration, his body knows before he does. Corpse looks around, trying to let the image of the surrounding setting sink in.

That place seems oddly familiar, yet totally new; a kitchen made of golden wooden walls. It's decorated with an old and distinguished taste. The wooden table is dressed with a pretty blue and red tablecloth. Vases of fresh flowers displayed on parts of the kitchen, dried herbs hanging above the sink in front of the window. It’s dipped in sunlight, too bright to be real. The rays of light are swaying with the shadows of branches which are dancing outside with the wind. Corpse doesn’t mind the light for once, he even closes his eyes for a second to let every pore of his body get soaked in it. God, did he miss that place.

“Honey, I was waiting for you.”

Corpse’s heart jumps a little before clutching harder. He knows who’s here, he knows it’s his unforgettable love and the idea makes him almost want to never open his eyes again. He can feel it, the profound kindness and sweet smiles that are surrounding you like it always have and it makes his eyes burn with tears that are ready to trail down his cheek, sobs jostling inside his throat. Corpse wishes he could just cover you in embraces and kisses but he can’t, he can never do that in those dreams.

Corpse tries his hardest not to let the frustration immerse him in bitterness by controlling his breathing which could get carried away at any moment now. He finally swallows it all to look at you. There’s a significant disappointment on his face when he realizes yours is as blurry as always. He wishes he could just witness this beauty one more time. He doesn’t remember what your face looks like, you’re not real. It’s nothing but a dream and you’re not here.

“I made some cookies for you.” The ghost of you says as it points out a chair that seems to have appeared out of nowhere, inviting him to take a seat as it does the same. “Those are your favorite, remember?”

With a voice sweeter than honey, so bewitching, Corpse’s body works on its own and mimics your gestures. His eyes are frozen on your silhouette. He tries to remember the shades and colors that were once painted on your face. If only he could remember.

“Did you redecorate our kitchen?” Corpse asks as he takes a bite of the cookie.

“Did I?” Your past self wonders out loud. “It’s been so long, I can’t tell.”

The treat tastes as good as it always has, Corpse takes another bite. The silence in the kitchen is delicate, contemplative. Outside, the weather is lovely; white clouds floating above the endless and bright green meadows. Corpse tries to take everything he can from that dream, from the peacefulness he feels now deep inside, and the perfume of your skin, to the sweet voice that caresses his ears. If Corpse could stay here forever, he would.

“Why are you here, my love?” You suddenly ask, forcing Corpse’s attention which he refuses by looking away.

“I wonder if the wind is warm or cool outside, maybe I should check.”

Corpse knows what happens every time you visit his dreams : you end up asking this question, he answers and suddenly he’s alone and you vanished into thin air. The response is always the same; because I miss you. It leaves him feeling lonelier than ever, craving a presence he can no longer be blessed with. Just a little bit longer, please. He blinks rapidly to expel the few tears that are forming in his eyes, so the knot inside his throat wouldn’t become more unbearable than it already is. Corpse is left feeling so desperate and helpless.

In a precipitation he almost can't control, he gets up and walks towards the door. He just wants to feel the wind on his skin. Please, just a bit longer. Corpse is almost at the door when his eyes deform with stupor under the pressure of a hand that grabs his sleeve. His heart stops, he was never able to touch you in a dream before. What changed? There’s a moment of hesitation before his eyes travel from your hand, to your arm, to your neck, to your face and he can no longer swallow his emotions when he dives into your eyes. Your eyes, he can see them.

When Corpse wakes up, wiped out of his dream, his breath is short and sweat pearls down his forehead. He’s in a rush, he remembers something about your face, something important. He knows what to look for now; your eyes, your irises. They don’t match in color. The left is green, the right has a pretty hazel color.

☾ A/N : Welcome on this new AU my friends I’m so excited to have you here with me on this new journey! I hope you liked the first chapter. A big thank you to @moontwinkles for beta reading the chapter and being a big help 💗 How are we feeling about this? Faceless leo men being sorcerers and familiar Sykkuno??? Idk I’m a little too passionate about it. Don’t worry the next chapter won’t be as angsty as this one but I needed to express my thrist for angst lmao anyway let me know what you think! Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

☾ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 *OPEN* : @open-minded-chip-101​ ; @lochness-butmakeitsexy​ ; @bizarrebibitch​ ; @bellomi-clarke​ ; @ladybismuth​ ; @katyasrussianaccent​ ; @satanhauntedourcats​ ; @owl-llie​ ; @teenloves​ ; @notannis​ ; @mcntsee​ ; @rottenroyalebooks​​ ; @peachdoppi​ ; @mirahg​ ; @foxxtrot-116​ ; @koi-soi​ ; @lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker ; @butterfly-skinnylegend ; @fanworrior ; @stickystrawberrysyrup ;

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Skinship

This one is dedicated to my dear friend and fellow TWST writer, @twstpasta! 

Congrats on making it to 3k followers and for making the grand debut of your new blog mascot~ I look forward to seeing your future works, as well as all of the (inevitable) Vil brain rot once your EBG (Extreme Bias Game) is over!

Imagine this...

“Unacceptable.”

“Eh?”

“Your skin,” Vil clarified. “It is simply unacceptable. You don’t truly intend on marching to the opening ceremony looking like that, do you?”

“My...skin?” Your hands subconsciously trailed to your cheeks. “What’s wrong with--”

He cut you off, his pupils dilating in absolute horror. “No...!! Don’t touch your face! Your hands are breeding grounds for all manner of nasty bacteria!”

Your hand jolted away at Vil’s remark. He sighed in relief--but the repose is short-lived.

“You haven’t even properly buffed out the sunscreen along your hairline. See to it that you wash your hands and blend it in. Now.”

“Ah, I must have gotten some grated parmesan on me while I was making my mac ‘n cheese for lunch,” you explained, your expression sheepish. “I only put sunscreen on when I work out, Vil-senpai.”

“Excuse me?!” He brought a finger to his chin and frowned. “I don’t know whether I should be more appalled at the fact that you somehow got cheese in your hair or at the fact that you scarcely wear sun protection...What, if I may ask, does your typical skincare routine look like?”

“I splash water on my face once in the morning and once at night. And I already told you about the sunscreen when I exercise.”

“...That is all?”

“Yup.”

Vil cradled his head in his hands.

“...Sit.”

“Huh? Oh, sure.” You seated yourself on a sofa and glanced up at your senpai. “But won’t we be late for the ceremony if we wait around for too long?”

“It will only take a few minutes,” Vil insisted with a dismissive wave. “I will be right back.”

The Pomefiore dorm leader swept out of the room, his dark sleeves billowing out behind him. The intricate golden designs on his robes seem to twinkle and dance under the lights.

He soon reappeared with a tray--upon it, a few towels, several small bowls of water, and an assortment of containers. Vil sat down beside you, placing the tray on a low coffee table.

“We can’t have you going out looking a mess,” he declared, “so I shall be giving you a quick facial.”

“Whoa, really? Thank you so much for this, senpai.”

“Don’t thank me yet. The magic has yet to start.”

He took a pump of soap, working it into a rich lather, then dipped his hands into a bowl of water and patted dry with a towel. Vil dispensed a viscous substance from another bottle and swiped it on your face--from your chin to your forehead, massaging in circles.

“What’s this slick stuff? Moisturizer?”

“It’s an oil-based cleanser,” Vil corrected, “Listen well, potato. There are three essential steps to every skincare routine--the first is cleansing.”

“But I’ve already washed my face today.”

“We need to break down your sunscreen first before we apply more product,” Vil chided, wetting his hands again before running them across your cheeks. “Next is a water-based cleanser.”

He popped open a tube and squeezed out a coin-sized amount. Rubbing his hands together produced fine suds.

“You’re washing my face again?” you asked, giggling while Vil worked the product onto your face. The lather tickled a bit—and it smelled like a field full of raspberries, bright and bursting with sunshine.

“Skin has both fat and water. Therefore, you should wash once with an oil to bind to oils, and water to bind to water—this will give you a thorough cleanse.”

Vil’s words were stern, but his touch remained gentle. Even as he chastised you, you could not help but indulge in the moment, melting in his voice—rich and velvety and decadent.

Hehe...like mac ‘n cheese...

You could feel a trickle of drool forming in the corner of your mouth.

“...45 to 60 seconds washing with each cleanser,” Vil recited in a murmur. “Upward and outward circular motions to promote lymphatic drainage, and to keep the skin from sagging. Be sure to exfoliate at least once a week...Are you listening to a word of what I’m saying, potato?”

“Huh? Uh...yeah, yeah, I’m listening.”

“Hmmm.”

“I-I swear I am!”

“Pop quiz, then. How many steps are there in a basic skincare routine?”

“Three! Four if you count washing twice!”

Vil cracked a small smile. “Excellent. I expected nothing less from you.”

He moistened his hands again and removed the bubbles on your face . Then Vil patted you down with a towel, leaving your skin just a bit damp.

“The next step is moisturizer. Normally, I would have you apply a toner, essence, and serum first, but we do not have the time for that.”

Vil unscrewed the cap on a tall, frosted glass bottle. The contents were pure white, sloshing around like melted snow

“Isn’t moisturizer usually like...lotions and stuff? That doesn’t look like a lotion to me.”

“This is a 2-in-1 toner and moisturizer. Cream skin,” he explained, carefully pressing the product onto cheeks and forehead.

Ah.

His fingers. They were so plush, so soft through the thin slip of the product—like clouds brushing against your face, planting dew drop kisses.

Your eyes drifted shut for a few moments, relishing in the feel of him.

“And, last but not least, sunscreen. You must always wear sun protection, even in winter and on cloudy days. UV rays can wreak havoc on your skin.”

“Y-Yes!”

Vil sighed, squeezing a generous heap of white goop into his palms. “If you understand, then you must promise me that you will take better care of yourself in the future.”

“I promise...”

“Good.”

His hands ran across your face, tracing every contour and curvature until each spot was slathered with sunscreen. Vil was the artist, and you were his canvas to be molded into a work of art.

A sweep here, a dab there, and...

Done.

Vil held your face, cupped within his hands, and gazed upon his work. His lips pulled into mirthful smirk—and his eyes glittered like amethysts embedded with stars.

He was so close--yet you cannot make out even a single pore or imperfection on his milky face. Your heart hammered from his intense gaze, and how his pink lips--today, the color of raspberries--were parted just so. How soft they must be, if he takes such good care of his skin.

“D-Do I look better now?” you asked nervously.

“See for yourself.”

Vil passed over a handheld mirror.

In the glass, a familiar, yet unfamiliar, face stared back at you. Your reflection bore a plump complexation—all rosy cheeks and supple skin. No white cast, no oily sheen, no flaky patches, no rough texture.

It almost doesn’t seem like yourself.

“Well?” Vil inquired, his arms folded.

“It’s me, but like...way better. It’s like you cast a spell or something.”

You cautiously poked your cheek. It conformed, then bounced back.

“No touching!” Vil hissed, yanking your wrist back with a frown.

“Whoops...ehehe, sorry. I forgot.”

“Honestly,” he groaned, reaching out and grasping your other wrist, “if you are going to disregard my advice so blatantly...”

Vil flashed his pearly whites in a sly smile.  “ ...then perhaps I should keep a firm grip on these traitorous hands of yours until further notice.”

He lifted the back of your hand to his mouth and planted a kiss. His lips were every bit as tender and smooth as you had imagined them to be.

A single thought emerged from the back of your mind: just what would those lip of his taste like, set upon your own?

You reddened.

“That color is most becoming on you, potato,” Vil chuckled, pulling back. His grip on your hand remained firm, yet somehow also delicate--as though handling a precious gem.

“Come. We cannot afford to dawdle any longer. The ceremony awaits us.”

Hand in hand, you venture out into the world--

--putting you best face forward.

[draconic-ichor]

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 25: Odd Ailment

Warning: strong language, sexual themes, fingering, vaginal penetration, cream pie, mentions of death, grave robbing, mild explosions

Summary: Juniper’s sickness doesn’t go away…leaving her wracking her brain for answers.

Feedback appreciated. 18+

In the days following, Juniper’s nausea did not go away. It would lull at times, giving her the confidence to try to help out in the shop again. But, inevitably, when she caught the smell of the rotting blood and old organs, it would hit her like a heavy stone all over again.

She was still hungry and never developed a fever. Heisenberg insisted it was the cadou, that it could do damn near anything to her system, and at first she believed it to be true.

As the days dragged on, that belief waned more and more.

Heisenberg on the other hand was determined to just wait it out, giving her space and refraining from asking for help with Soldats. He was long used to working alone so fell back into the routine easily.

Being able to return to the apartment to see Juniper and sleep beside her at night was more than enough for him, for the time being at least.

He sat before the many monitor screens, waiting and watching. There were multiple cameras in the village itself, set up at key points of interest: the church, town center, the cemetery, the ceremony site, and every way in or out.

His pale eyes scanned over them all, silently hoping for someone, somewhere, to fuck up enough to put them in an early grave.

While he waited, he worked on other things. Today he worked on making improvements to his Panzer designs. Determination fluttered in the pit of his stomach, unwilling to let these new creations turn out like Sturm.

Eventually as the day ticked on there was a commotion in the town center. Heisenberg set his pencil down, glancing up. There was a crowd of people gathering around a cart, one villager trying to calm an obviously spooked horse.

Heisenberg turned a knob to zoom in and get a better look. There was a villager on the ground, unmoving and bleeding. It looked as if the cart or horse had run them over. Heisenberg smiled, a new body he could snap up.

He stood from the desk, gathering up papers and his stray hat as he headed back to the apartment.

“Honey I’m home!” He burst through the door, his voice mimicking an old family sitcom.

Juniper looked up from her reading, face brightening at his chipper tone.

“You seem awfully happy today.” She commented as he strode forward.

“It’s a fine day.” He smiled back, making a show of removing his hat and glasses, “Guess what just happened.”

Closing her book, she gave a guess, “New project idea?”

“No.”

“Soldat?”

“Nope.”

“Sturm finally started working properly?”

Heisenberg snorted, “As if. All wrong, buttercup.”

“Oh just tell me, you silly man.” She exclaimed with a smile.

He leaned on the table, placing his weight on his palms, “Now where’s the fun in that?”

She purses her lips in annoyance earning her a chuckle from him before he finally gave her the answer, “Alright, alright, I’ll go easy on you. Someone just died!”

“And that’s why you’re so happy?” She almost scoffed.

“Well yea.” He shrugged, “I finally caught a young one getting smoked on the cameras.”

“Young one?” Juniper’s eyes were full of concern.

“Not a kid!” Heisenberg corrected quickly, “I’m not that evil of a bastard.”

“I suppose not…” she murmured, her mind clouding with other thoughts.

Juniper went to the counter, leaning against it as she looked out the tiny window over the sink. She gave a heavy sigh, hearing Heisenberg come up behind her. Gloved hands wrapped around her middle, pulling her back against his broad chest.

“Such a big sigh for my little wife.” He murmured into her ear.

“Mmmm.” She hummed, placing her hands over his own.

He rocked her a bit, asking, “How are you feeling today?”

“Better.” She nodded then more quietly admitted, “But still not good. It comes and goes.”

“How are you right now?” He asked before he dipped his head in to give her a rough kiss on her neck. She keened softly when his teeth nipped the sensitive skin.

“It’s mostly gone now.” She spoke breathily as he moved to the crook of her neck.

“Then how about,” he trailed his lips back up until he whispered the question into her ear, “We waste some time before I have to go, hm? Right here in the kitchen, even.”

“You’re terrible.” She gave out a little giggle.

“Hm?”

“That’s why you are being so sweet?”

“Sweet?” He echoed, “Would you rather me be rough with you? One comes much easier, buttercup, so be careful.”

She pressed her ass into his groin, giving a cheeky reply, “I’ll take my chances.”

Heisenberg gave a growl, moving forward to trap her body between himself and the counter.

He ground his hips into her own, cursing the fabric between them. Usually he would give her a chance to remove her dresses, to avoid getting chastised, but today he gave her no such mercy. After her playful provocation he ripped through the material of her skirt. Before she could curse him he forced her face into the counter.

She mewled when he shoved two fingers into her already moistening hole.

“Look at you, already a mess.” He jeered, finger fucking her and making her thighs shiver. He did this for a short time until he was satisfied she was prepared enough. Heisenberg undid the zipper of his pants, pulling out his hard cock. He coated his member with her slick, lining himself up to her core.

Without warning he pushed forcefully into her. Juniper’s cry caught into her throat as she held onto the counter.

She heard him groan over her as he pulled back slightly just to rock forward again.

He set a brutal pace, leaving Juniper crying out in pleasure. He forced her head down, the counter cool against her burning cheek.

“Like being fucked rough do you?” Heisenberg bared his teeth, not letting up, “Tell me whore.”

Juniper made a warbling gurgle, earning her a quick smack to the ass with his free hand.

“Y-yes master!” She managed, cunt clenching his cock.

Heisenberg’s lips twitched into an ever bigger smirk, his hips fucking into her own hard enough to bruise. The sound of their skin accompanied by the clinking of his metal charms filled the kitchen.

His thighs shook as he emptied in her, nostrils flaring like an angry horse. He took a few more heavy, ragged breaths before he pulled free from her heat. He looked proudly down at the thick string of come that connected their sexes, straightening his hat.

“I have to head out, Buttercup.” He patted her sore ass.

She gave out a weak reply, still trying to recover.

~

The nights were much warmer, mud soaking into Heisenberg’s boots. It made the digging fly by. The glow of the cigar’s hot cherry illuminated his dark shades as he watched the haulers get closer and closer to breaking the bottom.

“Keep going you stupid bastards!” Heisenberg growled, walking in a circle around the grave. The sickening feeling of grave robbing someone’s loved ones long since jaded from his mind, replaced with excitement over the prospect of new materials.

‘Materials’…Fuck he really was a monster.

He thought darkly. It didn’t have long to ruminate in his mind, a hollow thud sounded. Heisenberg ordered the haulers to pause, they made little screeches as they backed away from the hole.

Heisenberg took a shovel from one of the closer ones, jumping down into the hole. His boots made an echoy thud, as he took the shovel and scraped away the last layer of sediment. Using the blade he jimmied the coffin open. The smell of dried flowers hit his nose when it opened. The body was already starting to bloat slightly, unprotected by winter’s grasp.

He brushed away the flowers and coins on the man’s eyes, turning the body’s face in his hands.

Not big enough for his Panzer design but he would definitely make a good Soldat.

His lips twitched into a smile as he straightened, gesturing with a finger for the haulers to start the retrieval.

As they neared the factory, passing the scrapyard, something caught Heisenberg’s pale eyes in the moonlight.

He paused, the haulers deftly pushing the cart past him. The shape of a jet stuck out of the nearest pile, rusted and bent.

“Hmm.” He pursed his lips, an idea flashing in his mind. A glorious idea, a flying soldat!

“Get him inside!” Heisenberg yelled, turning fully towards the old jet. He raised his muddy, gloved hands. The object of his desire began to rattle and rise free. His lips split with the exhilaration of the new prospect.

~

The pale dawn filtered through the small windows when a Juniper awoke, Heisenberg had long since returned and went again. She looked at the muddy boot prints tracked across the apartment with a grimace.

Juniper started to stretch, stopping short when a light stinging pain tugged at her chest.

She sucked in a breath, cupping her breasts. They felt swollen and tender, more so than she could remember.

Worry pooled in her gut as she kneaded the flesh. Everything was adding up in a way she didn’t like, but she couldn’t be certain….

She finally broke down and asked the Duke for a special item. She made sure no prying ears were close, and Heisenberg had indeed trusted her to pick up the current shipment. This request was for the Duke’s ears only, he had an air of trustworthiness about him that Juniper felt she could ask him anything without fear of judgement.

When she made her request the Duke simply nodded, warning her such an item would take time to acquire.

Juniper nodded, no other choice but to wait.

So she waited, as patiently as one could with so much worry in her guts.

The weeks while she waited Heisenberg had started a new project. He had the terrifyingly brilliant idea to make flying Soldats. It ate up most of his time, trying to formulate the right type of core to allow flight.

The morning of the next shipment Juniper headed down to the workshop. The heat still affected her but since he wasn’t currently working with bodies it made it more tolerable to her recent tender stomach.

But today the smell of smoke and sulfur came from the shop. Her footsteps quickened, bursting through the door to see Heisenberg cleaning up after another small explosion.

He looked up at her sourly as he swept.

“What happened?” Juniper bent to pick up the nearest chunk of charred core.

Heisenberg’s lips were tight, “It blew up in my fucking face.”

“Honey…” Juniper came closer.

“Don’t start.” He huffed, turning towards her. Now that she could fully see his face she made a little sound of surprise. He looked up curiously.

“Oh Heis…your eyebrows had just grown back.” Juniper frowned.

Heisenberg threw the broom down, “Well they’re fucking gone again!”

He was simmering and fuming as she tried to help him clean. He finally cooled a bit to speak to her more calmly, “It’s almost time for the Duke’s shipment. Let’s go meet him.”

A thin sliver of alarm shot through her as she quickly spoke, “You have a lot going on down here, let me go get the shipment.”

He gave her a long look, but the morning had dulled his desire to argue.

“Fine…fine.” He waved her off.

Relief washed over her as she ascended the stairs back towards the elevator.

~

Blinking into the spring sun, she was surprised to see the Duke’s cart already waiting in the factory yard.

She quickly made her way over to him, hopeful.

“Hello Duke.” Juniper looked at her boots, worry heavy in her green eyes.

“Good day my dear.” He spoke, “I have the Lord’s shipment all prepared.”

“And the-?” She began to ask but the Duke cut her off.

“Of course.” The man picked up a small package from beside him, placing it in her hands, “Not the easiest thing to find all the way out here, but I have my ways.”

Juniper nodded, shoving it into her pocket, “T-Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He smiled, “And Lady Juniper?”

“Hm?”

“Good luck.” His voice was genuine.

They said their goodbyes. Juniper quickly brought in the delivery, not taking the time to go through it. She rushed onto the elevator, not wanting Heisenberg to question her absences.

~

She paced in the bathroom, anxiety eating up her core. She kept looking down at the small plastic stick on the sink. It felt like the longest two minutes of her life.

Her heart dropped, seeing a second little pink line staring back at her. She picked it up with a shaking hand, tears pricking her eyes.

Heisenberg said it wasn’t possible. She wasn’t human anymore, neither of them were.

The room span, she held her stomach.

She was a monster, full of infected parasites.

Juniper felt bile rise in her throat. Running from the bathroom onto the balcony.

Death was all around them. Mother Miranda twisting all those around her into nightmares.

She looked down at the stick one last time.

Maybe it was a mistake?

She knew it wasn’t.

Would Heisenberg tell her to leave? Would he hate her?

Tears ran down her cheeks as she threw the test off the balcony, it becoming lost in the piles of scrap far below.

Why them? Why were they so stupid? Why hadn’t they been so careful?

Questions thudded in her brain.

It wasn’t possible.

But it happened.

She was pregnant.

[a-crimson-dawn]

Mereoleona was surprised, to say the least.

From what she could tell, the only thing Vangeance had touched was the non-alcoholic eggnog.

And yet, he seemed a bit more... emotional (?) than usual? He definitely wasn't acting his usual self. She didn't really know why she cared - just yesterday, if you'd have asked her if she cared for him at all, she wouldn't have told you that he could go rot, for all she cared - but nonetheless she found herself watching him more intently than planned. Which was coupled with this weird feeling that she could have sworn was concern...

For him???

Nah, no way!

Not that bastard!

She looked at her own glass of eggnog, swirling the contents around a bit, before sniffing at it. It did smell a little off...

Charlotte was too drunk to have noticed - probably had some of that eggnog herself - and Dorothy was assisting her to a guest room, while the briar mage insisted in a slurred voice that Dorothy should "keep her hands off of Yami". Dorothy was busy. None of the other captains that were here seemed to notice that the eggnog was alcoholic, and, if they knew, no one was talking.

Instead, they seemed amused by Vangeance's impression of Sukehiro - which granted, was hilarious, if only on account of the fact that his voice was comically off and the impersonation was greatly exaggerated - and didn't seem to find anything strange about that. How often did those five - Sukehiro, Ripper, Silva, Vangeance and her brother - even get together if they didn't seem to notice something that seemed fairly obvious to her...?

Or maybe Vangeance knew?

Would he really get himself knowingly drunk, given that he was probably going to have to return to work the next day?

It seemed fairly irresponsible, but then again, so did betraying an entire kingdom. And Festiver was approaching, it was common for people to get inebriated during the holidays. Hell, it was one of her favourite past times.

Ultimately she decided to rule out the possibility of him being purposefully, knowingly drunk though.

So, walking over to him, she pulled him away from the table.

"Alright, I think you've had enough of that eggnog, Vangeance," she announced, dragging him off.

"Oh, hey, Sisgoleon," Yami slurred, unsurprisingly drunk. "Why don't you join us instead of killing our fun for once. There's plenty of drinks for everyone..."

"I can see that," she snapped back at him.

"I only had a couple glasses of eggno-" William protested, which was cut off by a hiccup. "Unless there was a limit to how much were are allowed to have-" another hiccup "-in which case, I apologise..." Well, at least she could hear him more clearly than Yami. "But I'm pretty sure there's plenty left -" hiccup "- on the table."

"Hey, Vangeance, drink something before you give me a headache with that hiccuping of of yours, will you?" Yami handed another glass of eggnog over to him, ignoring Mereoleona's attempt to stop him from doing exactly that.

"I don't recall there being any limits on the eggnog, no," Fuegoleon said, quite possibly a bit drunk himself. "There's no need to be concerned, there's plenty left for everyone..."

She groaned. "Please tell me you at least have a designated sober person for this, you idiots..."

"Nozel.... or maybe Fueggy over here..." Yami started pointed at the other captains, "but you know, I could always just get my wheels to drop us off... if we do get hammered."

"Neither I, nor Fuegoleon plan on drinking, and I'm fairly certain that Vangeance hasn't touched any alcohol..."

'And that's exactly where you're wrong, bird brain...' she thought, annoyed. "Alright then. I guess there's no reason for me not to get hammered myself since you're all so very clearly sober..."

"You and I should have a drinking competition, sometime, Sisgoleon," the captain of the Black Bulls offered. "See if you're any better than your brother over here..."

"I doubt it would be much of a competition considering you're already drunk out of your mind, Sukehiro," she turned away. She chose to stick around though, interested in how this was going to go down. Unsurprisingly, not well, was the answer.

In the end, all of the captains ended up hammered.

Which left Randall to take a rambling Fuegoleon back to the Crimson Lion King headquarters. Finral and Zora meanwhile lugged a very aggressive, drunk Yami - who weirdly kept insisting that only he could tease "Prickly" (was that an imaginary friend, or something?) - to the Black Bull hideout. Puli assisted a stumbling Charlotte who was busy wailing "Yami!!!" with all the subtlety of a blue whale - on the other hand, Prickly could have been Charlotte. Nebra and Solid assisted a confused and far too honest for comfort Nozel, who switched constantly between moaning about how much of an insensitive, rude jerk Yami was, to swooning about Dorothy - coming from him, that was kind of unsettling with how out-of-character it was. Dorothy had been playing with Nozel's braid before he got dragged out, and then she was helped by an oddly concerned Kirsch back to her base. Walter took Rill back, who kept talking in a dazed voice about this random girl that saved him - but that was no indicater of inebriation for Rill, as he'd been in this state for weeks now. As for Jack he kind of just... stumbled out into the darkness, which didn't exactly concern her as much as it should concern the people he might attempt to slice up. Judging from the voices outside though, she assumed that one of his squadmembers had gone to help him. Kaiser had returned early to his wife.

But the Golden Dawn didn't show up.

Which could have been because Yuno was currently in Hage with Asta, last she'd heard of Langris he'd went on some spiritual journey, or it could have been because the idiot - Vangeance - hadn't thought to call anyone even when it became apparent he wasn't going to get to his base alone.

And if that didn't speak to his level of inebriation, then his half-awake ramblings definitely did.

So, she grabbed him with her lion paws.

As it were, she had no idea where the Golden Dawn headquarters were. Instead, she went to the Vermillion House, which she assumed would have at least some spare guest rooms left. Worst case scenario he could simply take her room, she barely stayed inside the manor anymore anyway and had her own place in the wilderness. She'd inform the servants of his arrival, to ensure that no one was caught by surprise next morning.

But in the meantime, there was the journey there, which wasn't made any shorter by William's constant ramblings. She could swear he'd never been this talkative when sober. In fact, as far as she was aware he was mostly a very reserved person.

Now everything - every apology and regret, every compliment and delusion - poured out of him like water out of a fountain and it was... weird.

After hearing him apologise for Fuegoleon losing his arm for the tenth time, and mutter out random names she assumed were names of the deceased from the reincarnation event given the little information that he gave her, as well as trying to apologise for and simultaneously defend Langris and his behaviours... she was starting to feel a bit bummed out for even taking him with her. The sentiment was getting too much to handle. And when she thought the worst was over, he started pining over his elf friend and Langris. By the time they were close to the manor, he'd thankfully almost fallen asleep, but even then he wouldn't shut up. In the end she had to put a fire paw over his mouth to stop herself from getting all torn up about him. She wasn't about to feel sympathy for the enemy.

"Tell me there are guest rooms available...?" she asked one of the maids once she'd entered the manor.

"A-actually L-lady Vermillion... some of your relatives-" by which the maid really meant anyone remotely related to her "-had been invited to stay overnight at the manor..."

"I suppose that leaves my room," she sighed. "Please inform my father and the rest of the staff about the new guest."

"I-I'm not sure your father would approve-"

She rolled her eyes. "Arya, he's clearly drunk. And I don't plan on doing anything inappropriate with him, if that's what you're implying. And father can stuff his approval somewhere - maybe don't tell him that in those precise words though. I've been an adult for over a decade now, and it is still my room to do with as I please, no?"

"Well, y-yes..." the maid obediently nodded. "D-do you need any help with-"

"No, that's fine."

With that, she took the man up to her room, laying him down on the bed and finally retracting her fire paws. Relieved to know that he wasn't trying to talk anymore, she took off his boots and then put a cover over him. He seemed more peaceful now. Endearing even.

She bit the inside of her cheek, annoyed at herself. There was nothing endearing about a traitor.

'Even a traitor with a guilty conscience...?'

Even a traitor with a conscience.

"Mereoleona..." she heard a murmur coming from behind her as she was leaving the room. Oh, dear gods, not this again, she wasn't about to put up with more guilt-

"... I love you."

She froze at first, before turning around when he didn't say anything else. His eyes were closed, and there seemed to be a smile tugging on his lips. He appeared to be, asleep.

"I love you" followed her out of her room, even as she closed the door, unable to push it out of her mind.

Three little words. Three words that left her indignant. Afraid. Excited.

Was this some kind of cruel joke?

Or was that really how he felt...?

"That bastard," she whispered placing a hand on her chest. "If this is a joke, I'll kill him."