#ideas that I'll never finish or even start

[ccazimi]

Hiyahh saw that u said ur reqs are open my idea is pretty simple tbh but maybe could ya write sum abt sukuna lets reader bleach his hair to re-dye it but ends up failing horribly so he has to shave off his hair n he's js acting like a soggy cat 🫡

sorry if this didn't hit the mark! new to this haha

"I'm going to fucking kill you, woman."

You pouted from where you stood behind Sukuna as he scowled at his reflection in the mirror.

"Hey, it's not that bad..." You started nervously, trying to alleviate the situation you had created.

"Not that bad?!" Sukuna angrily interjected before you could even finish your sentence. "My head looks like an overused toothbrush."

And with uneven splotches of yellow, orange and white with short stiff strands that sat like straw after being freshly dried, the comparison was actually quite accurate. Accurate enough that you had to look away with a hand over your mouth to suppress a giggle.

"Are you laughing? Is you fucking up my hair funny to you?" He grit his teeth, irritation only growing at your tittering.

"No!" You squeaked, before stepping up to where he stood by the sink counter. "Is it really that fucked up?"

He watched you from the corners of his eyes as you lifted your hands to gently grasp a small tuft of hair sticking out. It was dry and brittle as though someone had air fried it for a bit too long. You tested its flexibility by bending it in your fingers and it gave way with a soft crunch leaving you staring at the dead hair between your fingers, and Sukuna stiffening even more. "Oh."

"Oh? Oh? Is that all you have to say for yourself?" You could practically see the steam exiting Sukuna's ears. "Give me that." He snatched the fossil of his once beautiful salmon colored hair that you'd collected and inspected it for himself. "How'd you even mess it up that bad? Were you using industrial bleach or something?"

"I don't know, I just used the old bottle of bleach I found under the sink." You mumbled. "The 'forty' brand."

"Forty?"

"It had the number forty on it."

He spun around at looked down at you incredulously, making you furrow your brows. "What, is that a bad brand or something?"

He brought his palm to his face, closing his eyes as another growl escaped his throat. "That wasn't the name of the brand, you idiot. 'Forty' is the level of the bleach"

You kept your mouth shut as he seemed to only become more livid.

"They come in volumes from weakest to strongest: ten, twenty, thirty, and forty."

He opened his eyes to glare down at you, leaving you to marinate in your guilt and feeling dumb as hell. "I'm sorry, Sukuna. Listen, I'll pay for you to get it fixed at the salon-"

He dismissed your attempts at reparation with a wave of his hand, holding up the tuft of broken hair up to your face. "You see this? There's nothing any professional can do when your hair is fucked this bad. I'm going to have to buzz it."

He watched you drop your gaze trying to hide the growing pout on your lips. Honestly, you'd really liked his hair too.

With an exasperated sigh he decided to take pity on you, trying to make you feel better in his own way. "Its fine, I'll just shave it so that it grows back fresh. Also I am never letting you near my hair again."

"Do you need any help buzzing it?"

He shot you a death glare that had you scrambling to exit the bathroom as quickly as possible.

You were laying on the couch, reading a book with Yuuji curled up on your lap when you heard the door to the bathroom open. The last few minutes were marked by the buzzing of an electric razor and you snapped your head up as Sukuna finally revealed himself to you.

He stared at you silently with his arms crossed, waiting for your commentary. "Well?"

Your first thought was that he reminded you of a lion that had its majestic mane shaven off - more so due to his demeanor rather than his appearance.

As for his appearance...

"You know I actually like the look." You said with a genuine smile. His chiseled features and sharp inky tattoos gave his face enough structure that he could actually pull off the buzzed look.

He deadpanned you, clearly skeptical of your approval.

"Look Yuuji, doesn't he look handsome?" You scratched the golden retriever's ears, prompting him to look up. Although Sukuna supposedly didn't like the puppy, Yuuji absolutely adored Sukuna from the moment he'd met him and would routinely piss himself in excitement whenever Sukuna would visit (much to Sukuna's disgust).

But Yuuji caught sight of Sukuna and growled, before laying his head back down.

You might have never seen Sukuna look so genuinely offended in his life.

"Don't mind him, he probably just needs to get a little used to your...new look." You tried to reassure Sukuna, but could barely contain your laughter at what a dirty scowl he was giving the dog.

"Let's go out for dinner tonight."

"No."

You sighed, dramatically throwing yourself on Sukuna's lap where he sat on the couch snacking on chicken katsu. "Come on, how long are you gonna keep sulking over this?"

He grabbed a pillow to throw it over your face and kept eating. "I am not sulking." He grumbled.

You fought against the pillow, finally managing to get it off and grin cheekily up at him. "You so are. Seriously, it doesn't look bad."

For the past few days Sukuna had refused to go outside, slinking around the apartment like a wet cat. His pride, his joy, his beautiful hair that he normally only trusted with high end salons had fallen at your hands, and he refused to let it go.

"Look even Yuuji's warmed up to you again."

Upon hearing his name, Yuuji got up from where he was slobbering on a chew toy and nosed Sukuna's ankle, tail wagging back and forth like a propeller. Your dog wasn't the smartest and it took him a little to be convinced that Sukuna was still his grumpy self and not some hairless replacement.

"Tsk. I don't care about your rat dog - in fact i'd rather have it not be all over me."

You chose to not mention it, knowing damn well Sukuna had perked up if even a bit when Yuuji went back to fawning over him. Instead you sat up, cozying yourself on Sukuna's lap in that way that you knew would always grab his attention.

"I'm seriously sorry I messed up your hair, okay? And you know I find you sexy with or without your pretty hair. So lets go out so I can show off to everyone how attractive my boyfriend is." You teased him on purpose, knowing that his ego would take some coddling while his hair grew back.

He rolled his eyes but you knew you were getting somewhere when he set his food down to snake his hands around your waist. "Fine. But only if we get sashimi."

"Yes!" You chirped. "Sounds good to me." You raised a hand to pet his head but he caught your wrist before you could feel his buzzed scalp under your fingertips.

"You're still not allowed to touch my hair, though."

[privatebooth]

When they get back together Hawke doesn't rush to be intimate with Fenris. The two are very affectionate, hugging, kissing and touching each other with no restraint, but Hawke never initiates or insists on anything more (even when Fenris doesn't seem to mind it).

He is a little bit worried about the possibility of Fenris feeling guilty about their breakup and the three years of time wasted, and fears that Fenris may feel obliged to please Hawke, doing something he doesn't really want to do. He knows that Fenris is not entirely free of his slave mentality, and wants to help him work through it (but remain subtle about it). I just have a lot of feelings about Fenris giving friendship points for reminding the world on his behalf that he is not a slave, like he needs constant reminders and reassurence ;_;

So Hawke simply wants Fenris to make the first move and make it explicitly clear what he wants.

However Fenris is confused at first. They've had a number of encounters that by all accounts (in Fen's mind) should have led to sex. Fenris gives it some thought.

At this point he has no doubt that Hawke cares deeply about him and wants to be with him. He concludes that Hawke, burned by the experience of their first time, is afraid of scaring Fenris off by being pushy. He might even assume that Fenris finds sex off-putting? And because Hawke was always painfully understanding, considerate and supportive of Fenris, he thinks it totally like Hawke to put Fenris's wellbeing before his own wants.

Fenris finds it endearing, but a little frustrating. He's a free man now, and wants to have what a free man can have. He wants to get all and everything out of his relationship with Hawke, including sex. Yet he doesn't dare to start something himself because... Should he? Is it really his place to do so? He decides that he can at least tell Hawke that he doesn't need this kind of coddling. He can and he should. He knows in his heart that Hawke will understand! Fenris seriously struggles to find the words to bring up the issue, so he decides to act.

The next time they return to Hawke's mansion after another battle they bath (separately) and clean up. Hawke lets Fenris finish first, then goes himself. Fenris tries to remain calm awaiting Hawke's return - naked, holding the used towel that covers nothing.

When Hawke appears he is surprised by the sight and can't look away.

If there were any lingering doubt (like what if it's something else? What if there is something you don't know?) Hawke's awestruck expression erases all trace of it and fills Fenris with confidence. He ditches the towel altogether and approaches Hawke without a hint of constraint.

He says that he'd been thinking on how to get Hawke's attention, explains that for some time now he's been dreaming of feeling Hawke's touch again (Fenris takes Hawke's hand and decidedly puts it on his chest and places his own hand above Hawke's heart). He states that he still very much wants Hawke to touch him, wants to feel him inside, yet Hawke doesn't seem particularly interested. Matter-of-factly he wonders if perhaps Hawke doesn't want him anymore.

They keep touching, remembering the not forgotten feel of each other's bare skin. It's been so long! Hawke is very happy to know that Fenris isn't shy about speaking his mind and that he acted on his own. In the softest tone that he can manage he says

I'll never not want you.

With a mischievious smile he adds Just say the word.

He probably makes some joke about him having wanted to be seduced by Fenris.

Fenris looks him in the eye and says

I am yours, so take me.

Hawke thinks to himself Close enough. This will have to do for now. It's a start.

Then they kiss and Hawke sweeps Fenris off his feet because it needs to happen at least once!

I think this takes place after that convo where Varric brings up the subject, and Hawke was inspired by his idea. Probably thought it would be cool)

[starburr]

It probably never occurred to Sasha that she might have had feelings for Marcy and Anne in that way up until she started asking them about how they feel about what they three have, whatever it might be. I mean, they've all been through hell and back, but still sticking together. Not just out of a need to survive the very dangerous world of Amphibia, but the fact they chose to stick to each other. To choose one another in trust and life, even if sometimes betrayal was inevitable.

Maybe she blames herself for all of that. Ignoring the tell-tale signs of interest, chalking those moments before up to being 'a good friend' or projection even. In which case, she had to figure herself out about why she was projecting such hypotheticals. Marcy and Anne have had it way worse than her, at least that's what she thinks. The other two experienced near-death and temporarily dying, not to mention the self-esteem and trust issues. It's hard to there have been a lot to unpack over the course of them readjusting back into society. There were a lot of things to learn about themselves. She was bisexual after all, and sometimes, Sasha "didn't always feel like a girl." Marcy understands, nodding along on their late night Saturday call with a beaming smile, saying "I'll always support you Sashy." That made her blush. Sasha feels Anne get up from the bed behind her. She excuses herself from the sappy show, having gone up to use the bathroom. Coming back later, only to tackle Sasha in a hug while all giddy. Sasha doesn't miss the way a gentleness is set in her eyes as she giggles on, darkened earthy tones that she wanted to be painted in. Even after having long finished college, Sasha can't help but feel like a child on Christmas Day.

These thoughts might have seemed strange had it been 13 year old Sasha who was just thrown into Toad Tower prison thinking them, but now it seems strangely intimate. Like a whisper into the wind that only Sasha heard, it made her feel closer to the other two. She now knows it isn't out of convenience, or the fact that she's somehow still projecting. Sasha knows better now. There's no doubt she looks at the interactions she had with them, good or bad, now in a different light. Perhaps Sasha Waybright still holds them close to her heart, more fondly than before. Maybe one day when Marcy comes back to LA, hopefully for good this time, they'll all pitch in the idea to stay in one unit together. Maybe a cozy apartment unit, or a more spacious house generously provided by one of the three's distant relatives.

Whatever the case, it doesn't go unnoticed that Anne seems a little too eager for the idea. Sasha lets it slide despite knowing full well what Anne is hiding, nervously fidgeting in her purse to make sure the crimson-cut cards are still in there, claiming she was just looking for her phone. Maybe later, after a few visits and planning, they'll have rekindled fires long thought doused. Maybe later, they'll have a slip-up or two, but clear it up with a promise so vague they'd want to believe the good of it. Maybe later, at the end of however long this takes, when tensions are cleared and feelings poured out, there'll be one more happy throuple in LA.

[dudewhy3]

Continue yours and Myrtle's discussion about Armin being a Twilight fan, what if it's a plot twist, and it's ARMIN who introduced Mikasa to Twilight?

Like, he was *analysing* everything and reading books and watching movies, but was ashamed of it, and Mikasa once spotted him writing another long essay about, "The more Edward loves Bella, the more he thinks he's in danger: principles of the selective abstraction and polarizes thinking", and so he introduced her with the saga after this.

BONUS: before AruAni became a thing, Armin heard Annie playing and singing Paramore - Decode, and he was mesmerized by her voice, playing and beauty, and so he was so smitten with her, that he didn't even notice that Annie was, in fact, smitten with him, too. It took them a while before they became a couple, but when they did, Annie plays Decode only for him :3

HI ANNAAAA, AND OH MY GOD YES!! THIS IS SUCH A GREAT IDEA AAAAAAGH, thank you for sending it in!! <3

It turned out rather long ahaha, so i'll put it under the cut. Please do beware of the angst ahead :3

So in a high school au, let's say Armin was 16 this year. That would mean that he was born in the same year the first Twilight movie was released (2008), just 3 weeks before. So, imagine his parents, a young couple, new parents to a little bundle of light, huddling up on the little couch in their little apartment, trying to ignore the cold, switching through channels to make the time pass. They randomly get to a channel streaming Twilight, so they watch it all. And little Armin doesn't cry once, he just stares at the screen with those big eyes of his, as if he understood everything that was going on. For the next 5 years, each November they would watch the release of another Twilight movie (except for that one time in like 2010 when they released it in June). And after the saga was complete, they'd watch it all in November, maybe even on Armin's birthday to make it more special. Until the day he turned 10, and his parents didn't come home– they never came home again, it was just him and his grandfather. Yet every time he missed them, he put on a Twilight movie, and the grief would get a little more bearable.

So as he grew older, he grew more attached to the saga. He started analysing everything about it, every little detail, because it made him feel closer to his parents. But he never shared those ideas, because they were so intimate and he was already getting bullied enough- so, he kept them in a little notebook. Until one day in math class when he was about 13 or 14, he was scribbling down ideas for that essay you mentioned- "The more Edward loves Bella, the more he thinks he's in danger" (which is such a cool title btw, love it). And Mikasa peeked over his shoulder and read a bit, and she was so engrossed with it that she didn't stop pestering him until he showed her the movies.Which was life changing for Mikasa, because she now finally had something she truly loved, but also for Armin- someone liked his ideas; he got to share his love for the series again, and it made him happy. So he finally found the courage to share his analyses and ideas, and they were well recieved by the fandom.

But he never finished that essay, not until he met Annie. He met her just as you said- he heard her singing once and was irrevocably in love. Except, i head canon that Annie would be such a distant and quiet person in high school, it would take a LOT to get close to her. Not only is she aloof, she's also extremely direct- so all his efforts to sit with her or strike up conversation ended up in her berating him for bugging her. Besides, there was Bert too, always two steps behind Annie in an almost stalky manner, but she seemed to indulge his presence better than Armin's.

So, Armin gave up on trying to pursue her. He accepted the fact that he was the Jacob in this situation and that his Bella has chosen the giant vampire, and drowned himself into his theories and analysis. He found that essay in his drafts, and decided to work on it again. "The more Edward loves Bella, the more he thinks he's in danger: principles of the selective abstraction and polarized thinking". It helped to put his own feelings and love somewhere.

But the bullies found it. They found his notebook, tore it all up, gave him one hell of a beating. Armin was left bruised and broken and with a ruined notebook. His work, his life's purpose- gone. He didn't know what to do, so he picked himself up, gathered the pieces of paper that used to be his essay, and started walking astray through the school. Until he heard soft guitar tunes coming out of the music room, and found Annie there, playing her guitar, wearing a scowl on her face. Somehow, her scowl only deepened when she saw him.

"I didn't know where else to go." He couldn't go home and worry his grandpa, and he couldn't go to his friends either, or Eren would have caused a scene. "Is it cool if I stay here? I promise not to bother you."

Annie looked him up and down, examining him thoroughly, her eyes widening the slightest bit at the sight of his bruises. "It's whatever," she finally said.

So they sat in the music room, each doing their own thing. Armin put his essay back together, and Annie carried on with her song. No word was spoken between them that day, or the next day, or the next week, yet there was peace in the quiet and comfort in the silent understanding passed between them. But Annie's silence turned into nods of aknowledgement and later into quiet 'hi's. Armin's turned into little smiles and stolen glances, and occasional "hey do you want some chips?"s. One day, two months into this arrangement, as she was taking a little break from her guitar and munching on his chips, she asked about that essay of his.

"How come you haven't finished it yet, don't you have a deadline for it?"

And so, feeling extremely self conscious, Armin beat around the bush and said that it was this silly character analyses for a show he liked.

The next day, Annie was playing another song, but he didn't recognize it at first because she played it in little sequences, never in full length. Eventually, maybe three or four weeks later, she asked him to put his essay aside for a minute and just listen, and she played Paramore's Decode, both guitar and voice. Armin was left absolutely mesmerized, so much so that he didn't know what to say, staring at Annie with a big dumb smile on his face. But the more he stared, the more self aware Annie became. She flushed a deep red, picked up all her stuff in a hurry and left.

That was the moment Armin realized he was completely smitten. He went home, sat down at his desk- and decided to finish his essay that very day, give it to Annie in the morning, and confess his love through it. Which is exactly what he did. He was an absolute zombie the next day, having barely slept, but when he made it to the music room his heart was beating like crazy against his chest.

Annie got flustered when she saw him. "This is my room, I found it first. If you're gonna sit there and mock me for what I play, then you can stick your nose right up your-"

He thrusted the papers in her arms. "Just read this," he demanded.

Annie looked between him and the papers with skeptical eyes, but eventually sat down and started reading through them. Armin sat next to her and carefully watched her face as she read, taking into account every little change in her expression.

When she was done, Annie sat the papers neatly between them.

"Okay. And?"

"What do you think?"

"What does this have to do with me?"

Armin took a deep breath in, building up his courage. He couldn't back out now.

"This is how I feel about you. What do you think?"

[cleaning-has-its-benefits]

This month I decided to be more self indulgent.

So, this is a follow-up post to one from some time ago, that one about that shelved fic of mine about the last stranger. I thought of a possible ending to it and since it wasn’t leaving my mind I decided to write it down. I went with the most angsty route for this one, also I wrote this in one go so there isn’t much editing.

Tw’s for self-harm, suicide (kinda implied) and violent imagery.

-----

His steps made no sound as he walked through the Vast Forest, not fast, not slow, reaching into his bag, touching the different objects inside and choosing, mindlessly, which one to place next, his thoughts elsewhere.

First, it was The Wisest. She was given the cruel punishment of years-long solitude, completely secluded from the world, with nothing to hear, nothing to see, nothing to smell, nothing to taste, nothing to touch… How is a mind supposed to handle that? How is a ‘self’ supposed to remain in such situation? All for simply trying to help. The sage’s sorrow does not come from the wisdom itself, but from knowing the dangers, the consequences, the preventions and solutions, yet being shushed by those they meant to help, for their help is ‘inconvenient’… Her demise was our first lesson.

He placed a red bottle cap on the ground.

Second, it was The Oldest. He knew an ancient time, he grew with The dreamer. He listened to The dreamerwith fondness, near-sighted… or was he? He smiled at us, like he smiled at those before us, like he smiled while crunching the bones of our tiny, minuscule, insignificant selves. A millenary being, surrounded by fleeting, disposable beings… The beast was an example, a down-scaled model, easier to understand for us. Embodied our reality and foretold the end… but we could predict it already.

He placed a red puzzle piece on the ground.

Third, it was The Favorite. It stood were the paths of complacency and defiance diverged. It stood, and never moved, a paw on The dreamer’s head, while he hugged it’s fluffy belly. That was all it was meant to do, a plush meant to be hugged. All it wanted was for The dreamer to be serene, yet it stood, hoping for someone to help him better than any of us could. In the meant time, it would be a blanket, for The dreamer. But it wasn’t enough, so it became a pillow fortress. But it wasn’t enough, so it became a shield of cotton. What is a shield of cotton supposed to accomplish?

He placed a red knife on the ground.

Rule of three, The Guardian’s fate was no surprise.

He looked down at the bright red knife, stopping his walk. The knife did nothing while he looked at it. Tainted in so much blood, yet it didn’t do anything when he crouched and picked it up.

All his friends were killed with this knife.

He wielded the knife and it didn’t do anything. It was harmless in his grip.

One by one, they learned to see death reflected on the blade.

He grazed the sharp edge with his index finger. It was so sharp it cut the skin that so lightly touched it, and when he pressed a bit more, it easily cut through the flesh, drawing blood.

“Ow…”

Is this the pain they felt?

One by one…

Murdered.

With this knife.

He got up and sent the knife flying against the ground. “Murderer!”

The knife bounced once before helplessly laying on the ground again. All insults died in his throat as none were enough to convey the rage he felt and, with a swift movement of his hand, black vines broke out of his skin. Mid air, they grew thorns and he sent them down against the knife to hit relentlessly. Like whips, they were designed to tear flesh at high speeds, but all they did was rise a cloud of dirt. The attack was brief. The vines retreated into his arms and he let the dirt in the air dissipate.

Not a single scratch on the knife.

Black roots separated the ground and wrapped around the knife, tighter and tighter as they retreated back, ready to kill by suffocation either from their sheer force or from being buried underground. Before they could finish the job, he dismissed them. Not all of them left, as the knife had cut a handful. Just a matter of how sharp it was, it didn’t have the will to cut.

The knife remained as shiny as before.

Stubborn, just like his owner.

That didn’t save your owner, however.

This time, a single vine slid out of his sleeve. Akin to a snake, it made it’s way towards the closest tree. It climbed the rotten trunk to the first branch in it’s path, which it circled thrice before heading down for the knife, not as a vine anymore, but as a rope. It wrapped around the knife’s handle, tying itself into a noose. He pulled and the rope snapped in half, one retreating back from were it came, the other tightening the knot around the branch.

The knife swinged lightly with the wind.

He watched his work, the rage giving way to the numbness of before.

I hope you suffered. I hope your stubbornness made you suffer until the very last second.

The knife didn’t care. It didn’t care about the fate of it’s owner. It didn’t care for it’s sharpness or how many had been killed with it. It didn’t care for the screams of pain from the punished, nor The dreamer’s wailing echoing all around the decaying world, for what seemed like an eternity.

He had tried it all, from covering his ears to screaming his lungs out, the wailing just wouldn’t quiet down. It was maddening, but what could anyone do but tolerate it?

…His guardian dog isn’t around anymore, is he?

His nails digged into his palms.

The dreamer kept crying.

He made a sharp turn in the first direction his intuition told him to and set off, in a race to find him. It was impossible to locate The dreamer by hearing, the wailing equally loud everywhere, so he relied on pure instinct, his feet hitting the oily ground from where few patches of pale grass still remained. He ran pass sick trees with low, weak hanging branches, the rot reaching the leaves.

The dreamer let out a ear-piercing scream.

Why don’t you shut up?! You choose this, you and no one else! My friends warned you time and time again and yet you never listened, and now you force everyone to hear your whining?! I’ll show you what it feels like to be silenced! Who’s gonna show the face for you, now? Do you even remember how to defend yourself? You better learn quickly, I’m not letting you run away this time.

He imagined how The dreamer would react when he spotted him. He’ll lift his face from his knees, a pathetic mess, Whatever emotion there was in his eyes won’t matter, as his entire being will be overtaken with dread. The dreamer, as always, will try to run away, but a simple root in his path will be enough to make him trip. He won’t even lift a finger, roots are all he needs. The dreamer’s cries won’t make it far while buried.

The dreamer kept crying. His sobbing was hard to understand, but from time to time he managed to form words. He called the names of his loved ones, so far away, asking for their help, relief for this immense pain, a solution for this mess he had gotten himself into. Yet, none of them answered, none of them could hear the screams inside his mind. He was alone, even in his ideal world.

The image stopped him right on his tracks. The hatred that had driven him barely some seconds ago vanished completely. Disbelief at his own behavior took it’s place.

I’m… This is not what I’m supposed to do. I can’t attack Sunny, I’m supposed to help him…

The dreamer kept crying. The world he created kept falling apart all around him.

But how was he supposed to do that? How was he supposed to help? What could he do? His friends couldn’t accomplish anything in six years, what could he manage to do in… he didn’t even know how much time was left. Hours? Minutes?

…This was the perfect chance. With Omori gone, they could talk with The dreamer directly and with all the patience they might need, with all disregard for the ticking of the clock. No need to speak in short messages, carefully selecting each word to not set him off… It was the perfect chance.

Just… why had to be him, out of everyone? Why was this chance given to him…? Maybe one of his friends could have… managed to… anything. All he could think about was guiding The dreamer to the truth, but if he was crying like that, then surely he knew everything.

He didn’t have a clue on how to help The dreamer at this point… nor he was sure he wanted to. His friends and him knew the path The dreamer choose would end like this, and if they knew, The dreamer, deep down, had to know it too. He’s just facing the consequences of his actions at last.

…What would his friends say if they heard his thoughts regarding The dreamer? Could he even call them his thoughts, or was The dreamer’s self-hatred influencing his way of thinking? They warned him this was likely to happen… Were this hatred and rage actually his?

At some point he had began to rub his own arms, but it took him a while to notice. It felt nice. He kept doing that, while thinking on what he should do, what he was supposed to do, the point of his existence. Questions with blank answers.

What is one supposed to do when the world was about to end? When in any second now, everyone would die?

‘do whatever you want,’ his friends had said. When thinking of ‘should’ gave no guidance, maybe changing the wording would help.

What would he like to do in his last moments?

What would be of his liking?

What did he want?

He kept rubbing his arms. They felt a bit less cold.

A hug.

He just wanted a hug. Someone to give him a hug, he didn’t ask for more… but he would be grateful for a hug and a few words of comfort. What words? ‘you did what you could, all of you. Simply, the stakes were against you from the start. The chances of success were low then, and just kept getting lower. This situation was beyond your hands. You did what you could.’

He let out a shaky sigh. “We did what we could…”

Yet, it was the end of the world and he would face it completely alone.

He stopped rubbing his arms. He had to clean his tears instead. He cried silently, just like his friends had taught him to.

“Why d-did it all have to end like this…?”

He tried to cry silently, but there was no way to stop his sobbing, the more he thought of his solitude. From his creation to his death, he had the same yearning: a friend. Just one. Just one person in the entire world that he could feel a bond with. Just one person to accompany him now. Just one…

That was when he heard the whistle.

‘Locate, then run,’ was what his friends had instructed him to do in these situations. With the state of the Vast Forest, it was easy for him to spot three colorful figures: a Kel, an Aubrey, and a Hero, but only in appearance. It wasn’t the first time they had encountered him.

The Kel was quickly approaching, running full-speed, in that overly efficient way that made one wonder if he even remembered what it was like to run for simple fun. The Aubrey followed close behind, wielding her bat, which looked like it was used recently. The Hero stood still, watching him, analyzing every single movement he might made, to command accordingly.

There were a few seconds of advantage at his favor, before the Kel was too close to escape from him, crucial seconds, that he had to use wisely, specially now that he was alone and the others couldn’t do the relay-trick for him and confuse the chaser… but getting away from those three was always so complicated, so tiresome…

The Kel kept approaching.

No way he could run away from him now.

The Kel kept approaching, with that unnaturally-wide smile of his, teeth tainted and eyes bloodshot.

It was a bit scary… but on the surface he was still Kel, maybe a bit on the inside too, that goofy and easy-going friend who always brightened everyone’s day with his occurrences.

Kel was getting nearer, running so fast, he must really want to reach him as soon as possible!

He turned his way, to face him fully. The dark purple eyes met his bright ones.

Kel ran towards him, and Basil, too, ran towards him.

“My friends! You found me!”

Basil was so happy! He laughed, tears of joy distorted his sight. The end of the world was a scary thing, but with his friends- if he could be with his friends the last seconds of his life-!

Kel was so close him now, Basil could see he carried Hector in his hand! He wiped his tears with his forearm, extended his arms towards his friends and closed his eyes. “I missed- I missed you so much!”

His friends would rescue him from this nightmare.

Finally, he could go back home.

[running-in-the-dark]

I'm sooo annoyed. I was finally painting again. then my brother asked if I can help my niece study for her math test (which is tomorrow. somehow it's always the next day, what am I going to do that's helpful the day before??), so of course I said yes. I've been waiting for them for over an hour, I've put my stuff away and everything. there's basically no way I'll still have enough energy to get back to it when we're done now and it's really frustrating.

[orcelito]

God, this is fucking crazy

So i only have 3 more classes to take, but it'll cost the same to take 3 classes as 4 classes. So I've been thinking about taking a 4th class just for the hell of it. Something fun and/or easy.

Out of curiosity, I looked up orchestras. I was in it in my first year, but I haven't consistently played since 2016. But I still dream about being in an orchestra again. I *miss it*. So I was like. Well, what if *that* was my 4th class next semester? What If?

I looked it up. This week is the last week they're doing auditions for it. There was only one more spot free after today. And that's *tomorrow evening*.

I haven't really played my violin much in YEARS. I'm so out of practice. But apparently they don't reject anyone outright. Auditions are just for placement. So worst case scenario, I get placed in an orchestra at a lower skill level than I was at my prime. It'd still be an orchestra.

It's crazy short notice, but I don't think I'd forgive myself if I passed it up. Bc I have just one more semester before I graduate. One last opportunity to be in a school orchestra. And if I didn't do this, I'd be left with that What If forever.

So. Crazy short notice, but I have a violin audition tomorrow!!! Hahahaha

[greenelight]

me    wanting    more    fantasy    aus    .    .    .    who    am    i    ?

[karimationkat]

Been having a burnout lately, even drawing sticks is a chore.

I need to get the KO/MT human design done, so that I can finally draw things I wanted to for a half year.

[imwritesometimes]

I am once again completely losing any interest or motivation to actually write anything 🙃🙃🙃

[eggmeralda]

thumbnail that says "staying in my band until I feel appreciated" and the video is 3 years long

[nutelloona]

all the sketches I did tonight were cigarette themed, I guess the late night air really calls for some smoke huh

[bunnys-kisses]

the jailbird (2)

prisoner!simon 'ghost' riley

part 1 | original text post

cw: (former) prisoner!simon, civilian!reader, romance & fluff, smut, size kink, sane and consensual, roleplay, rough sex, spanking, bondage & gags, tattoo kink, dom!simon, sub!reader

bunny says: love the fic? leave a comment! really love the fic? suggest your own! reblogs are encouraged!

-

living with an ex-convict was interesting. he still woke up at the crack of dawn, and as a result you were up too. he didn't know where anything was in your apartment, he hated that he had to wake you up but he didn't know where the spoons were.

you were happy to help him and spend some extra time together before you went to work. the more you were around him, the more you realized how big he was compared to you.

even his hands were much larger than yours. he loved to wrap you up in his arms and hold you while you were making yourself some breakfast. those strong tattooed arms around your middle as you flipped eggs.

sometimes he'd bury his face in your neck and visibly relaxed. he was still dealing with his fair share of trauma from the previous events of his life. and while it often left him stressed, he found comfort in you.

"you're my anchor, love." he said within the first week of his return to society.

you simply smiled and tried not to blush too hard as you said, "well, si. i'll happily be your anchor, as long as your mine."

"you're anchor, your rock, your foot solider, your lover." he said as he kept his gaze on you. since he had been living with you, you found his expression had softened a little. he could relax here.

"my husband." you reached out for him. he took your hand and kissed the top of it before he held it for a moment then returned it to you.

simon had a long road ahead of him, being on the inside for so long was going to cause some problems. but, he knew even if he had nothing. he had you.

it was almost five months into living together and he managed to get an interview working in small parts manufacturing. while it was tedious, they didn't need to look at his criminal record. which greatly excited him.

when he came home from the interview, he told you that it went well. that they seemed to like his dedication and were impressed when he mentioned his time in the military. he said, "got the whole 'thank you for your service'." as he held you and kissed you deeply.

it felt like your little lives were coming together. but the one thing you hated to admit to yourself. you sort of had a dark side, it wasn't anything too aggressive or 'evil'. you thought that simon was the perfect boyfriend, he'd never hurt a hair on your head.

but the idea of being with a criminal sort of had a sexy ring to it. to be with the bad boy. you almost felt embarrassed to admit it when he'd come home with flowers for you, or when he smiled at you. or when he held your hand when you went out. with you he got to be a person with love.

deep down you wanted to know the depths of your boyfriend. you wanted to know what a man like him, with his skill set, was capable of. you wanted it to burn, ache and hurt.

it took a lot of courage, you communicated with your boyfriend about a little make believe. while hesitant at first, he slowly started to warm up to the idea. you knew he was open to it when he came home from one, actually the first day at his job, with a bundle of bondage rope.

"the blue looks good on you." he remarked as he finished tying you up on the bed. he had your arms behind your back with you on your side and one leg tied to the bed post.

you looked at him, those eyes of yours were so alluring. you tried to move your leg but was stuck to the bed. he smiled down at you and tapped the ball gag in your mouth.

"but it doesn't matter what you want. right?' he asked, "i've searched a long time for you. you're not an easy woman to catch." he got between your legs, and hiked one leg over his shoulder as he started to aggressively lick your cunt. it was already dripping from the act of him tying you up.

there was no escape for you, even if you somehow got out of the bondage. he was almost twice the size of you and could do some damage if he wanted to.

you squirmed and whimpered around the ball gag as he took long, hard licks against your clit. he wanted to make sure his girl was wet enough for his large cock.

"maybe i should breed ya. bring you back to the boys all fat with my brats.' he purred, "i don't think they can throw ya in the can if you're pregnant. but who knows, you got pregnant by a thief." he continued to lick your sweet cunt. he was in heaven.

he really was so much bigger than you. he overpowered you, he could keep you down and fuck you until he had his fill, and there was nothing you could do about it. you were bound and gagged like a good girl.

he kept at it, he even teased your hole with his thick fingers until you were squirming more with your moans getting louder. he slapped your ass and gave you a stern look over your pussy. he gripped your leg over his shoulder. "shut up." he growled, "i don't need ya causin' a scene. i'd hate to go back to prison because you can't keep your trap shut up."

you hole clenched and he chuckled. he patted where he smacked and grabbed at the flesh before he went back to his feast between your legs. it didn't take long before the slick between your thighs got all over his face.

he pulled away and sat up on his knees. he stared down at you with your thigh wrapped around his waist. he was going to fuck you at a weird angle, but it was the only way he could keep his little prize tied up. he wiped is face, "you are the best thing i've caught." he said, "stolen a lotta loose change, but they're nothin' to the sweet taste of your cunt." he got his cock out his sweatpants and started to rub it against your slick pussy. he let out a harsh sigh from the sensation, "they should be keepin' ya behind the vault door." the tip slipped in for a moment and you clenched around it.

you whimpered and tried to pushed yourself down on his cock, but it was hard to do that when you were so tied up, he pushed the hair out of your eyes, your leftover wetness got on your cheek from his movements.

"but, you need to know." he said, "you're mine to do whatever to. your mommy and daddy aren't gonna save ya. you fell in love with a bad man and now you're lettin' him fuck your cunt raw. what's gonna happen at christmas when you're all swollen with my brats. riley boys are lil hell raisers." he went back to rubbing his cock up against your slit, "you'll be mine forever. my little prize. i should've taken ya a long time ago. just snatched ya up off the train. keep ya to myself." his tongue was getting loose from the buzz of pleasure in his brain.

you whimpered around the gag and almost cried out when he slipped his large cock into you easily. you felt it in your guts and his pace was much more brutal than the other times you've made love. that was the difference, you made love before. this was dirty, primal sex between a criminal and his captive.

the sounds of sex filled the air, paired with simon's heavy breathing. his heart was thumping steadily as he pushed his cock as deep as it would go. he loomed over you as he drilled himself into you. you were a comfortably tight fit around his cock.

you dug your nails into your palms from the immense pleasure and yelped when he slapped your ass. you whimpered when he leaned further into you to get closer into your personal space. his pace was brutal and it excited you.

"i'm a bad man." he said lowly, his voice close to your ear, "my worst crime is tainting such a precious angel." he held onto your calf as he bent your hips the closer he got. his voice was hot, "fill ya right up, make sure no other man has a chance to get ya knocked up." his tattooed hand went to your stomach which he gave a small rub, "my girl carryin' my boys."

your eyes almost rolled back from the heat in your body. you were almost drooling around the rubber gag in your mouth. it was dirty, it was filth. if anyone saw the state you were in, they would be shocked!

your head felt full of lust, you felt your lover so close to him. you knew despite the roughness and the harsh words, the entire scenario was safe. you knew you could get out of this if you needed to. but it wasn't getting to be too much, it was just enough.

the wetness between your legs and the flips in your stomach only excited you. to have such a large man be so domineering. it made you feel small in a good way. it was almost like being bound made you feel protected.

that you could lay yourself over to him and he'd cherish you. even if you were his little 'prize' for the evening. the hottest part was the pace at which his cock was battering your womb.

you whimpered against your gag and felt the heat rush through you. you held onto your palms as best as you could with your arms bound. the entire situation left you spinning, there was no wonder that orgasm crept up on you so easily.

with a loud moan around your gag, you climaxed around his cock. the tightness of your cunt mid-orgasm milked his cock till he was seeing stars. he came inside of you, his seed hit against the back of your womb.

the feeling of being able to do so left him a little slack-jawed. but he kept it together, even if his cheeks were flushed. when he finished, he slowly pulled out and started to untie you. his hands were shaky from the after effects of his orgasm.

he took the gag out of your mouth and pulled you in for a kiss when he finished untying you. he fell into bed with you and laid on top of the covers with you. he held you gently and kissed your face. he gave you gentle praise as he kept you in his arms.

when he looked at you, all was right in the world. you held onto him and pressed kisses against his face. after care consisted of tea and a small snack followed by a shower together, where he washed every part of you.

even though you were capable of doing it yourself, you still appreciated how detail orientated he was in the manner of getting you clean. little did you know that biology was working its magic and simon's seed found home in your cervix.

you better hope that the line about the riley boys being hellions was untrue or you'd have your hands full. it didn't help that when simon's hand grazed your stomach as he washed you that you blushed and tucked yourself closer to him.

mama riley did have a ring to it.

[cleaning-has-its-benefits]

I’m sad right now so I decided to write about a scrapped idea I once had about a post-hikikomori route fic from the Strangers’ perspective. He’s a bit of a comfort character you see.

I didn’t get to give a tittle to it, and the summary would have been something like “In which a boy searches for a purpose in a dying world/ the end of the world” (I didn’t decide which fitted more). It would have been angst and hurt/no comfort.

The story would have started at the church of something, right after Omori “rescues” Basil and goes to reset headspace. The other strangers gather around the stranger that fought Sunny, now half of his body missing, blood still dripping from the open wound. Their injured teammate is the least of their concerns, as they find themselves in the worst position they have ever been at, which little they know it’s gonna get way worse as time goes on.

A stranger attacking Sunny, not Omori, but Sunny directly, it’s pretty much a death sentence for all strangers. With Omori, before barely tolerating them but now up to give them the “kill on sight” treatment, their mission has become much more difficult to achieve, if not outright impossible.

The injured stranger doesn’t feel a bit of remorse. They believes there is no point in keep on trying to guide Sunny towards the truth. He clearly has no interest in solving anything! Why try to force him? Let him do whatever he wants! This stranger has lost what little faith they had in Sunny and at this point he feels nothing but contempt towards him and, given the chance, he would attack him again.

For some strangers, his words are like blasphemy, but other agree with him and both sides soon engage in a heated dispute. Weren’t it for their collected nature and the harsh lessons Blackspace has given them regarding being too loud, they might have outright yelled at each other. The remaining strangers that do not pick sides in this start to get overwhelmed with stress and the uncertainty of both theirs and sunny’s fate.

Among these strangers there is a peculiar one that stands out, but that no one pays attention to. He is the youngest of them all, one that can’t be called “a stranger” yet, but can’t be called “Basil” either. He has the looks of headspace Basil but in gray-scale, and stands in the midst of this crisis, not understanding a single thing that’s going, too scared to ask .This isn’t so much different of how his short life has been until now. He’s the protagonist of this story, the last stranger.

I didn’t get beyond the introductory scene, so I’ll just talk about general stuff now.

The new cycle after the reset would bring a few changes that would result detrimental for strangers. First, Omori’s decision of keeping Basil at the picnic spot under strict watch would mean no more Basils would be created in blackspace (since they only begin to appear after the current Basil is sent to blackspace), and with no more Basils no more strangers can be created (all strangers start out as Basils). Thus, the Basil that we met at the start of the game, would later become the very last stranger. With their considerable death-rate increased due to Omori now viewing them as a threat to eliminate, they are sure to be headed towards extinction.

Second, Blackspace has become even more stronger, strong enough that now it’s fragments of the truth became much more aggressive and hard to contain, now out to “hunt” the dreamer. There is no need to guide him towards it, as it now is after him. In other words, strangers no longer have a purpose. They are no longer needed.

Strangers’ main way of coping was to focus on their purpose. Many gave meaning to their suffering by working towards this goal. Yes, they got robbed of everything they loved, but it was for a higher purpose, at least. Thoughts like this kept them sane and it maintained a functional and organized community, if an unhappy one. The lost of their purpose would lead to this community to completely fall apart. Old wounds, that never healed really, would be reopened. Breakdowns happened more often, and with Sunny’s belief that Basil must hate him by now making strangers become more aggressive, there would be times in were strangers barely tolerate each other. The only decision that they would collectively agree on would be a new ideology of “each one should do whatever they want, since we’re all going to die soon anyways.”

The lack of purpose and belonging would have been the main themes of this fic, as well as the loss/lack of identity.

Now a bit onto the characters!

Like I said before, the last stranger would have been the main character. Although he finds himself in this mess, he doesn’t see anything abnormal about this. His life has been so messy by this point that he doesn’t even have a definition of what “normal” looks for him.

Not only he is the youngest stranger in relation to the others (only being three days old by the start of the fic) but also he’s the youngest in their history, which makes sense since he lived through the shortest cycle.

You see, for a Basil to become a stranger correctly he needs certain amount of time. First needs time to adjust for being tossed from hs to bs, then time to mourn their loss, time to understand the nature of their world and the truth, time to learn the ways of strangers, you get the idea. At minimum this should be a month and a half. But in this cycle, time was the least thing they had. This Basil’s development had to be condensed in three days. The result? A disaster.

The last stranger has little will for himself, used to being tossed for one place to another, he simply waits for others to tell him what to do and what to think. He has no critical mind and has resigned himself to not understanding anything, as the explanations he’s been given had only been confusing, if he’s given explanations at all. After the strangers declare the new rule of “do whatever you want”, the last stranger finds himself at a lost, and ends up wandering aimlessly, doing arbitrary things for no real reason, at times copying other strangers, much to their annoyance.

Although I’ve been calling him “the last stranger”, he isn’t really an stranger, just partially. The others don’t consider him one of their own, but they let him stay anyways because they take partial responsibility for his situation (some just to spite Sunny and his cowardice). He can’t be considered Basil either, but at times he call himself that, as he’s given no name to work with. In general, he behaves more like hs Basil, even observing the current Basil stuck at the picnic spot and imitating what he does. As he only spent like two hours at hs before discovering the photo, he didn’t have the chance to be Basil, and now he aches for living what he couldn’t. He probably spends more time at hs than he should, considering the danger.

Stuck in this limbo of not being Basil nor stranger, his narration would have been akin to a unreliable narrator. A really confusing one, at times contradictory and rambly, he often muses about the world and the things that the strangers have told him but these never reach any conclusion. His mind is often occupied by “his lessons”, the rules and responsibilities of strangers, the things they must do to accomplish they goal, because he, despite his complete lack of understanding, does want to help. he wants to be useful and do good, guide the dreamer and help him in accepting the truth and healing (whatever that means). Sadly by the time he has memorized these teachings, they have become obsolete, but they are easier to follow than “do whatever you want”.

In terms of appearance, he never gets to fully develop into a stranger. At most, he retains the looks of a gray-scaled hs basil, although without crown and with a black gradient from top to bottom, so his head is completely black but his body is different shades of gray, getting lighter as it goes down. On his hair he sometimes puts colorful leaves and petals taken from headspace, as he misses his colors.

The most tell-tale sign that he isn’t a stranger is his inability to leave red footprints. To work around this, he collects red objects that he later uses to leave trails, imitating the placing of footprints, but these trails don’t lead to anywhere in particular. Omori still follows them (only to end up confused) so this stranger considers it a success.

Since the last stranger is the protagonist, he’s the one I wrote the most info for, so he others will be shorter.

The next stranger is one of the oldest ones (so like 3 years), maybe the oldest ones from the surviving strangers. Despite their situation, he’s still set on helping Sunny, and he plans on fighting on until the end. He’s one of the most compassionate and patient strangers, but said compassion is only for Sunny. Towards the other strangers, he is indifferent. Centering his focus on Sunny and the real world, he doesn’t see anyone from the dream world as a person, not even himself really. Maybe for this he tries to think like rw Basil would, getting so much into his mindset that he has convinced himself he’s personally responsible for Sunny’s suffering and his motivation is fixing his mistake, but this could also be born from that part of Sunny that blames Basil for his idea. When he has a breakdown, he can be heard apologizing to Sunny. The last stranger, sensing his indifference, prefers to avoid him.

In terms of appearance, he looks like a standard stranger, but he can be identified by his mannerisms, which are more similar to rw Basil’s.

The next stranger is the opposite regarding his thoughts about Sunny. Born out of Sunny’s guilt over abandoning Basil and his broken promise, this stranger wants to get Sunny out of his house so he can make up for being a bad friend. They’s never had a good opinion of him. He cares way more for the rw friends, and if they had the option, he would have ditched Sunny and focused his efforts in helping the rw friends. But since he’s stuck with Sunny, their hopes were of helping them indirectly through Sunny, or it was until they concluded Sunny’s fears were stronger than his love for his friends. This is the stranger that attacks Sunny in the hikikomori route. Even after being cut in half, he’s not afraid of Omori and his motivation has shifted to making Sunny’s life more miserable, if he insists so much in “living” like this. Probably the stranger with the most radical change in motivation, but other strangers do side more with him than the previous stranger discussed, because at least this stranger acknowledges them as people and, even if he’s prone to sarcasms and a somewhat hostile behavior, he does care about their peer’s wellbeing, seeing them as more victims of Sunny’s choices. Due to their confident and assertive personality, the last stranger sees them as a leader figure and often gravitates towards them in search of guidance.

In terms of appearance, his lower half is missing and he leaves a trail of black blood wherever he goes. To move around, he uses his tendrils, which make him look bigger than he actually is. Even bigger than a standard stranger, considering half of him is missing.

The next stranger (I cannot think of any other opening) is an unusual one. For starters, as Basil, they never got to be at headspace. They were one of those Basils that Omori finds while getting through blackspace and has to kill because they know too much. However, this one managed to survive, if severely injured, enough to make Omori think he was dead. A stranger from that time took pity on this Basil and went to save them, staying with them in the room to treat their wounds and protect them from the dangers of blackspace. It took a lot of time of recovery, but eventually this Basil became another one of the strangers. Just like their unusual origin, their way of helping is an unusual one. Their efforts are more centered in supporting other strangers emotionally, checking on them to know how they are faring, and stuff like that. They feel very grateful for being saved and so they feel more loyalty towards the strangers than towards Sunny, to which they has a neutral opinion. Being more community focused, strangers’ overall mental health had improved thanks to them, as they always lend a shoulder to whoever needs it. They still perform some of stranger’s regular duties, just lest often and in a limited way, for two reasons. The first is that their near-death experience left them blind, and they need to be accompanied when exploring blackspace. The second is that, due to said experience, they panic every time they sense Omori nearby and only go to headspace to hide at otherworld when Omori is at blackspace, because they want to stay as far from Omori as possible. The fear they feel towards Omori also prevents them from ever speaking anything related to the truth, sure that Omori will take notice, and they’re sure he won’t fail twice. Even if Omori didn’t kill him, he still silenced them successfully. The last stranger sees them like the older sibling figure he barely got to have and at times seek them for comfort.

Their body has scars all over it, but this isn’t noticeable. They look mostly like a regular stranger, except their eyes are missing.

There were other characters but these were the only ones I wrote profiles for.

As you see, I had a good chunk of ideas for this fic, unlike my other shelved fics which at most I had one scene or just a general idea. But I abandoned this one for the same reason as the other, I didn’t have a direction for this to take. Like, the main character should have a positive or negative development? Should this story be somewhat hopeful, with a message about finding meaning in life and the will to fight for the better even in a shitty situation were there’s almost nothing to do? Or should it be a full-on tragedy, having Omori massacre the strangers one by one while headspace collapses completely and no one wins anything, everyone condemned in different ways? I guess with this I could have focused a lot on the lack of identity and belonging, maybe the last stranger managing to survive until being the very last of his kind left, only to realize that Omori has spared him because not even he sees him as a stranger, or Basil, just some creature of blackspace that looks vaguely like a stranger for some reason. Well, this last thing doesn’t fit that much in how I usually write Omori, but it could work if I wrote Omori more like a machine that follows a very literal set of instructions. I guess I forgot to write much about how he would have been in the story but basically he’s really overworked and stressed, since Sunny gave him full control and Omori has to be active day and night, always alert because fragments of the truth are always lurking around him. This makes him much more aggressive than before and an even greater danger for strangers. Like I said before, no one is having a good time here.

Maybe the main stranger’s character arc would have been of figuring out his deal, or try to since it’s not like he has a good and safe environment that promotes healing, and eventually find out the reason he wants to fit either in the label of Basil or stranger is because then he would know which one is “his people”. If he’s Basil, then the friends are his people, but if he’s stranger, then the other strangers are his people. What he really yearns for is belonging and connection. If he felt he had those, probably he would be more open to not be Basil or stranger, just himself. Yeah, that could go well with either a bittersweet (more bitter than sweet I would say) or a tragic story.

Besides the introduction, there were two scenes I thought of:

1- The main stranger running away from Omori and his group, who have spotted him. Since strangers can’t outrun Kel, he turns around and tells Kel Sunny’s name. Kel is confused and stranger follow by quoting Mari, specifically something she said after Sunny threw his violin, something not too telling, but enough to make Kel cower in fear, instinctively aware he has heard “too much”. Stranger takes the chance to run away, while Omori forfeits the chase as dealing with Kel becomes a higher priority than killing the stranger. While stranger goes back to blackspace, he contemplates Kel’s fate.

2-A long time has passed and headspace is on it’s last legs. Now the friends are trapped inside the neighbour’s room, under the big yellow cat’s protection, while the rest of headspace has been corrupted by blackspace influence. Maybe, in a kind of last ditch effort, Omori goes alone to headspace to “clean it” and try to restore some of it. This leaves an opening for the last stranger to approach the stump and take a look inside, out of pure curiosity, as the other strangers would never do this, since it’s pretty much suicide. When he takes a peek inside, he sees Basil’s face, who was taking a peek outside. They startle each other, but soon begin a friendly chattering, curious about the other. Basil feels fascination towards the stranger because, with no more cycles, he couldn’t become a stranger and fulfill his natural growth, as one of the few dynamic headspace inhabitants. He feels trapped, and being stuck at the picnic spot (which now it’s inside the neighbour’s room btw) doesn’t help. He wasn’t made to be trapped like this, like Mari is, and he always feels like there’s something off, that things should be like that, but he doesn’t get to voice his feelings. On stranger’s side, he feels fascination towards Basil because he can get to see how he used to be, when he wasn’t so troubled and confused. Eventually stranger goes away, but Basil promises he will keep this visit a secret, in hopes that he will come back and break the stagnation of his life. Stranger, although has the chance to, decides to not tell him anything about the truth, since then he would be separated from his group of friends.

Since I didn’t outline anything, idk how much sense any of these scenes would make in the story.

Well that would be pretty much it. I’ll finish this off by mentioning a random idea I had. At some moment of the story the main stranger would have gotten the nickname “Friend” and he would have proudly answered to it.

[selineram3421]

здраствуйте можно сделать реакцию на ревность аластора

Translated:

Hi, can I get a reaction to Alastor's jealousy?

Yes.

Jealousy Headcanon 1

Alastor X Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ platonic to romantic, violence, all caps in bold italics = SOUND EFFECTS, implied torture/murder, gore? eyeballs, possessive? Alastor wants all of your attention ⚠

Alastor has never felt jealous! How absurd of you to think that! Hahaha! Ha... Who is that demon taking up your attention?

He always had your attention.

You could be talking to the Princess but still focus on him.

Hell, you could be checking in a guest and still keep up with his tale of the day.

But now it was quite odd.

There was a demon coming by the hotel, not to see if they were interested in the cause but to use up his friend's precious time.

Even now the beastly thing walked up to the check in counter and started up a conversation with you.

He watched from the bar.

"Hey! I see its dead as ever in here.", the dragon demon grinned as they leaned on the counter.

"Not true~", you had replied. "I checked in four new guests!"

Yes, you had a knack of persuasion. Able to convince many to do almost anything. Sometimes even him.

"Oh yeah? How many sinners walked in?", the scaled creature leaned close.

Far too close for his liking.

"I just told you how many.", you replied and placed a finger on the dragon's snout, pushing them back as well. "Personal space."

He didn't like this demon.

Everything about them set something off. Their manners, their way of speaking, the way they move-

"Oh come on, I don't bite sugar cake~", the beast took your hand and kissed their way up to your elbow.

The way they t̵̬̥̻͂̿̈́ȏ̴̒͠u̸c̷̈́̊̆́̓͘h̷e̴̖̖͒̓͂͋̎ḑ̴̣̋͜ you.

"Nope!", you yanked your arm away and held it close. "None of that.", you laughed nervously with an uncomfortable smile.

It looked wrong. Your smile should be a happy one.

"I said I don't bite!", they laughed and tried to grab at your arm again. "You know I'm messing! When's your break?", they leaned over the counter, still trying to get at something to pull you closer. "I know a good bar to go to, or we can go to the club! I'd like to see your ass in something a little less-"

"Ew, no.", you rejected and backed away.

"Come on!", they started to climb on the counter. "Its just one time! I'll even help you get in and out of your clothes.", they grabbed onto your sleeve.

That's ENOUGH!

He quickly shadow traveled and snatched the wrist of the dragon.

"I believe they said no."

The beast growled with a sneer before looking at him, freezing up once realizing who had their wrist.

"I was just joking man. Haha..", the dragon looked between him and you. "I understand! I'll back away. The slut is yours."

"Excuse me!?", you said angrily.

His antlers grew, the low static that hummed now raising up in volume.

"₵₳ⱤɆ ₮Ø ⱤɆ₱Ɇ₳₮ ₮Ⱨ₳₮?"

"The slut-"

SNAP

He held the demon's snout shut as they screamed and cried over their broken wrist.

"Now, there is a no killing rule in the hotel.", he said and then grinned menacingly. "But that doesn't apply outside."

His smile widened after seeing the panic in their eyes.

"Dear.", he turned to face you. "Has this guest overstayed their welcome?"

You stared at the beast with such a terrifyingly hateful glare.

"Yes they have.", you replied, crossing your arms. "I'd like to keep a souvenir, for memories."

And then you gave him that lovely smile.

"Alastor, do you think you could get me a dragon eye or two? I hear they make nice details to things."

"I'll make sure to get them.", he released the demon, only for his tendrils to take hold of them. "I won't be long.", he reassured, lifting up your hand to kiss the back of it.

He saw you blush before he 'escorted' the demon outside.

After finishing up (and calling Niffty to clean up), he returned with two freshly picked dragon eyes.

You thanked him with an odd little gleam in your eyes. No doubt your mind jumping idea to idea of what you could create with them.

Now with the pest gone, he would have your attention again.

Just like he wanted

"Thank you Alastor. I'll be able to make something interesting with these."

"I can't wait to see what you make this time."

Perhaps he'll ask you that question sooner than later.

Of course he has to prepare everything to properly court you.

I am using a website to translate requests. Please let me know if I have translated anything wrong.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@willowaudreykeyes @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @lbcreations-blog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

[orcelito]

OK I do have that idea for a trigun longfic. And it is almost exclusively trimax inspired lol