#im missing a puzzle live for this shit

[piastriprincess]

sometimes all i think about is you  ⸻  oscar  piastri  x  reader  .

featuring  oscar  piastri  ,  roommate!au  ,  friends  to  lovers  ,  smut  ,  use  of  fahrenheit  (im  american  sorry deal  w  it) , unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it bbys !) word  count 4.2k author’s  note 18+  MDNI  !!!  once  again  (and  probably  every  time  i  write  smut)  i  will  say  i  have  no  excuse  for  this  one  .  if  oscar  piastri  doesn’t  want  me  to  write  smut  about  him  then  maybe  he  should  stop  posting  slutty  little  photos  where  he’s  all  tan  and  sweaty  !!  like  really  …  what  was  i  meant  to  do  with  that  .  anyway  let  me  know  what  you  think  ,  i  hope  you  all  enjoy  <3  title  is  from  heat  waves  by  glass  animals  !

You’re halfway through your research when you notice the silence. 

It’s not the comfortable, productive kind of quiet that tends to fall over the apartment while you work. This feels different. Ominous, even. Like there’s something you’ve gotten used to that’s suddenly gone missing. 

You sit up straighter in your chair, frowning down at your laptop as you blink sweat out of your eyes. The cursor blinks back at you like it knows something you don’t. The air feels off — heavier, a little more stagnant, pressing down on your skin. Something about it makes your stomach twist nervously.

You push back from your desk and open your bedroom door. Your roommate is exactly where you expected him to be: sprawled on the couch, laptop balanced on his thighs as he types relentlessly away at the coding project he’s been “almost done with” for the past two weeks. 

“Hey, Osc?”

He pulls out one AirPod, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he turns to look at you. You can hear his music even from your doorway, the house beats bumping through the tiny speaker. “What’s up?”

“Do you…” you pause, stepping fully into the living room. “Does it feel kinda hot in here to you?”

He presses up on his elbows, tilting his head slightly like he’s registering the temperature for the first time. “Yeah, actually. Weird.” He tosses his laptop on the coffee table, exchanges it for the air conditioner remote. When he points it at the unit and presses a button, nothing happens. 

Your eyes flick to the AC unit. There’s no air moving above it. No breeze blowing through the leaves of the plants you’ve stacked across the windowsill.  

Oscar tries again, pressing the buttons more frantically as you’ve ever seen him (which is to say, slightly harder than he did before). “It’s not working.”

“Shit,” you say, dread rising in your stomach. “You’re kidding.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, deadpan. “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

He doesn’t. He looks mildly concerned at best, cheeks flushed and sweat starting to dampen the hair at his temples, brow furrowing in that calm, clinical way of his. You can tell he’s already cycling through possible fixes in his mind; to him, this situation is just another puzzle to be solved, an amusing diversion to take up his afternoon.

You, on the other hand, are spiraling. 

“Oscar,” you say, words dripping off your tongue, “it’s nearly a hundred degrees outside. There’s been an extreme heat warning this entire week. I saw someone on TikTok this morning fry an egg on the sidewalk. And you’re telling me our AC is out?”

He points the clicker at the unit one more time for good measure. Nothing. Your chest tightens, as you glance down at your phone. 98º, the weather preview reads, next to a bright little sunshine icon. 98 degrees, and it’s barely 9 AM. 

“Oh god,” you whine, pressing the heel of your hand to your forehead. It comes away damp. “Oh god, we’re gonna get heatstroke and die in this tiny shitty apartment.”

“Whoa. Okay. Don’t panic,” Oscar says softly, eyes wide, like he’s not quite sure what to do with the freaked-out version of you. He walks past you into the kitchen, filling a glass with water and handing it to you. “Drink this. I’m gonna check the breakers, yeah?”

He disappears down the hall to the fuse box, and you collapse onto the couch where he’d been laying. It’s still warm from his body heat, which somehow makes everything worse. You can already feel your hair sticking sweatily to the back of your neck. The water is lukewarm, but it helps a little.

Oscar’s back a few minutes later. “Did it work?” you ask hopefully, but he’s already shaking his head, holding his phone out to you. You can read the giant, size 128 font your super always uses in his emails from across the room: Building-wide HVAC outage. No ETA for repair. 

“Okay,” you say slowly as you sit up, trying to channel some of his calmness. “Okay, we can figure this out. Ice packs. Cold showers. We can handle this. It’s gonna be fine.”

He nods uncertainly. There’s sweat starting to bead at his hairline. “I think there’s a fan in the closet that the people who lived here before us left. I’ll grab it.”

When he returns, he’s carrying the fan under one arm, biceps flexed around the frame. It’s an old thing — white plastic going yellow at the edges, wide square cage locked around three dusty blades, power cable frayed from use.

“That thing looks like it’s going to electrocute you,” you say, eyebrows raised. 

He grins, plugging the cord into the wall. “C’mon, it adds character. Ready for sweet, sweet circulation?”

You scramble to the floor, sitting cross-legged directly in front of the fan. “Hit me, Piastri,” you say decidedly, and he flips the switch. 

The fan wheezes to life, sort of. The blades creak into motion like they’ve woken up from a decade-long nap, and it only takes a moment before the first gust of air hits your waiting face. 

Hot air.

“No,” you moan, and Oscar crouches next to you, hand in the corner of the frame like he’s trying to run his fingers through the breeze. “I thought this was gonna help. It feels like sitting in front of a fucking hair dryer.”

“Maybe it just needs a second to warm up?” he tries, but you’re already shaking your head. 

“It is warm. That’s the problem.”

He sighs and sits on the floor next to you, knee brushing against yours. The fan keeps pushing the stifling air at your faces, like it’s mocking you. “Verdict: the fan is shit.”

“The fan is worse than shit,” you groan, letting your head loll against his shoulder. You can feel his skin even through his shirt, warm beneath your cheek. “The fan is actively taunting us. The fan is betraying us.”

“Okay, drama queen,” he says fondly, pulling the cord out of the wall. The fan stutters to a stop and silence falls again, the air feeling even swampier than before. 

“We’ve got other ways to beat the heat,” he says, like he’s trying to convince himself and you. “It’ll be fine.”

It’s absolutely, completely, one hundred percent not fine.

“This is hell,” you moan, fanning yourself with an old takeout menu. “Actual hell.”

Oscar swipes lazily at the menu, pulling it out of your hand. “Give me that.” He fans it at himself a few times, before letting it drop out of his hand with a groan. 

For a while, it had kind of felt like an adventure. The two of you had dragged your stuff into the living room, worked side by side with bags of frozen peas pressed to your heads, cold beers sweating on the coffee table. The day dragged on, temperature climbing higher, and you’d been forced to get creative. On one trip to the kitchen, you’d figured out it was the shadiest place in the entire apartment, and promptly moved to lay out on the floor, tiles cool beneath your skin. The two of you took turns sticking your head in the freezer, too hot to be self-conscious about how stupid you looked. At least you’d gotten an ancient, frostbitten box of Bomb Pops out of it, long forgotten behind your ice tray. You’d spotted it, pulled it out and split the entire box between the two of you, rationing them like wartime supplies. 

But now the popsicles are gone, the last of the beers going lukewarm, and you’re both pleasantly tipsy and running out of ways to keep yourself entertained. Judging from the way the sun is slanting golden through the window, you’re guessing it’s late afternoon, but you don’t dare get up and check your phone. That would mean expending energy and leaving the cold tiles behind, two things you are very much not prepared to do.

“This is such an undignified way to die,” you mumble instead, cheek flat against the cool floor. Your bottle is dripping with condensation, pressed into the skin of your neck. 

“We’re not going to die,” Oscar says automatically, sliding down the cabinets until he’s on his back next to you. His hair is plastered to his forehead, cheeks flushed. 

You roll your head to the side to look at him. “I’m pretty sure this is how we go out. I’m wilting. I can feel my brain literally melting. Dripping out my ears.” 

“Nah, I think that’s just sweat,” he grins, eyes sparkling. 

“Ew, Osc.” You wrinkle your nose. “Gross. And also not helping.”

He lets out a laugh, lazy and breathless, forearm thrown over his eyes. “At least we’re going out together.”

“Yeah, put that on the tombstone,” you snort. “‘Here lies two idiots who died because they were too cheap to rent in a building with a competent super.’”

“We’re not cheap,” he protests weakly. “We’re… financially responsible.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s so financially responsible to just die of heatstroke.”

Oscar sighs, taking a long swig and then setting his beer down. The glass clinks against the tiles. “Okay. Well, we’re definitely not gonna survive if we keep wearing this much.”

You blink, propping yourself up on your elbows. “What?”

But he’s already shimmying his shorts down his legs, kicking them across the floor to the corner of the kitchen. “It’s basic heat management. Less layers means our skin’ll cool off faster.” He pulls his shirt over his head next, one clean, graceful movement. 

And — okay. Okay. You weren’t prepared for Oscar to be shirtless. 

You’ve lived together for almost two years. You’ve seen him before, on laundry day in a ratty muscle tank, on the way into the gym, even one particularly embarrassing moment when you walked into the bathroom before he’d gotten dressed, towel slung dangerously low on his hips. But you’d filed the moments away in your head as normal roommate occurrences, nothing to think twice about. 

Clearly, you hadn’t been paying enough attention. Because now you don’t know what to do when he’s sitting on the kitchen floor in a pair of grey Calvins, skin flushed golden and peppered with moles, covered in a sheen of sweat. There’s a drop trailing down his chest, catching in the grooves of what look like very defined abs. 

You know you’re staring. It’s shameless. You feel a little bit insane, actually. Oscar is… hot?

“You okay?” your roommate says, a little too casually. 

“I —” you stammer, forcing your eyes up to his face. “What the hell, Osc. You have muscles.”

“Humans tend to have those,” he replies dryly. 

“No, but like, I thought you had programmer muscles. Slouch over a computer all day and code muscles,” you try to explain. “But you look like you could be in like, a sexy sunscreen ad or something. When did you get so jacked?”

He laughs, a little breathless, rubbing the back of his neck. His ears look a little pinker than they were before. You’re not sure if it’s the heat or something else entirely. “I’ve always been like this. You just never noticed.”

You shake your head. “No way. I would have noticed that.”

“Apparently not,” he says, voice a little rough in a way that makes your stomach twist. “Your turn.”

“My turn for what?”

He gestures at your sweat-soaked tank top. “Heat management, remember?”

“Right, yeah. Makes sense. Equal opportunity stripping,” you breathe, trying very hard to sound casual even though your pulse is racing under your skin. You take a breath, averting your eyes to the floor, and tug your tank top over your head. 

The air hits your skin first, surprisingly cool. And then, unmistakably, Oscar’s eyes next, trailing down your body, heavy and lingering. 

“You’re staring,” you note, and his gaze snaps back to your face. 

He swallows hard, rakes a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry, I —” His eyes flick back to your chest, like he can’t help himself, then quickly back up to your face. “Jesus.”

You raise an eyebrow, tiny smile on your face. “Humans tend to have those,” you echo him, gesturing vaguely at your bralette, and Oscar makes a strangled noise like he’s choked on his own tongue. 

He rolls toward you on the floor slightly, one arm falling lazily over his waist as he looks up at you with those big brown eyes. “You can’t just do that.”

“Hey. You were the one who told me to take my shirt off,” you say, suddenly defensive.

He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Well, I didn’t think you’d do it and look like that.”

“Like what?”

“Hot,” he says lowly, and now it’s your turn to sputter around your own breath.

“I mean — it is the middle of a heatwave,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. 

His eyes find yours. Hold them with an intensity that makes you shiver even in the heat. “You know that’s not the type of hot I meant.”

The air doesn’t feel stagnant anymore. It feels alive between you, some kind of simmering tension that’s using the heat as an excuse to finally, finally boil over. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, voice pitching high and unsteady. 

His brows knit together. “What do you mean?”

“You’re looking at me like you want to kiss me or something,” you say, breathless. 

A beat. Oscar’s lip catches in between his teeth as he looks at you, and you can feel your traitorous eyes drop to his mouth. His grin spreads slowly across his face, like he’s won something he didn’t know was up for grabs. 

“I do want to kiss you,” he says. And then he leans in, slow, like he’s giving you the chance to stop all of it in its tracks, until there’s no space left between you. 

When his mouth finally finds yours, it’s careful. He tastes like cherry popsicle, lips sticky with the leftover sugar and a salty twinge of sweat. One hand cups your cheek, the other resting tentatively on your waist, thumb skimming at the hem of your bralette like he’s still trying to figure out how far he’s allowed to go. 

You don’t want him to be careful anymore. 

You swing a leg over his lap, straddling him, knees knocking against the tile. His breath hitches as you settle against him, muscles tense beneath you. “You’re allowed to touch me, you know,” you murmur against his mouth. 

He pulls back, chest rising and falling unevenly as he looks up at you. “Just — trying to be respectful,” he says roughly, fingers digging into the skin at your waist. 

You smirk, rolling your hips against the obvious bulge in his briefs, hard and thick and throbbing. The groan he lets out is nothing short of filthy. “Osc, I’m literally half-naked on top of you. I think we’re way past the point of respectful.”

It’s like the permission flips a switch inside him. His mouth attaches to your neck, sucking little bruises into the soft skin, and suddenly, his hands are all over you. One sliding down your back, splaying over your hip and rocking you against him, cock rutting against your wet heat through your shorts. The other palming at your chest through your bra, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide the way your nipples pearl under his touch. 

“So fucking hot,” he breathes into your skin, pausing between words to suck another mark at the swell of your breast. “Driving me insane, you know that? All fucking day with those shorts and that little tank top.”

You don’t respond. Just reach behind you, fingers nimbly unhooking your bralette, clasp damp against your back. The fabric falls away easily, straps slipping down your arms until you’re bare on top of him.

For a second, you think Oscar might have stopped breathing, hands frozen on your hips, eyes fixed on your tits.

“Oscar?” you say, breathless, rutting your hips against his in a shameless attempt to bring him back down from whatever planet he’s on. He blinks hard, shakes his head slightly like his brain is an Etch-a-Sketch he’s trying to reset. His pupils are blown, eyes wide as he stares up at you.

“Sorry, yeah, I —” he mumbles, and then his head is ducking down, mouth closing around your nipple, warm and wet. His tongue flicks sharp over the nub of it, his other hand coming up to palm at your other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. 

It feels like he’s everywhere, all hands and lips and tongue, and you gasp, arch your back like you’re trying to get more of your tits into his mouth. He groans around you, teeth grazing against the sensitive area gently. The vibrations go straight to your core. “Osc — fuck — ”

“Good?” he mutters against you, and you nod frantically. His free hand wraps under you, fingers splaying against the curve of your ass, and he picks you up and presses you into the kitchen tile without taking his mouth off you. The move is so absurdly, unfairly hot that the only thought in your mind is why you didn’t let him do it sooner.

He pulls back, and you’re about to whine at the loss of contact until you feel his mouth against you again, pressing messy open-mouthed kisses in a trail down your stomach, tongue dragging against your skin like he needs to taste you. Your fingers weave easily into his hair, tugging loosely at the roots, and he whines.

“Can I —” he breathes when he gets to the waistband of your shorts, looking up at you through his lashes, and you’re lifting your hips in reply before he can even really get the question out of his mouth.

“Please,” you gasp, like he needs any extra confirmation. Like he’s not already hooking his fingers into the elastic and tugging your shorts and panties down your legs. 

“Fuck,” he rasps once you’re laid bare in front of him, hand sliding slick up your thigh to your center. “You’re unreal.”

He kisses the inside of your thigh gently, then again. Higher and higher he goes, mouth dragging just shy of where you need him most. “Taste so fucking good already f’me,” he mumbles to himself, almost reverent. “Can’t believe I get to do this.” 

Your hips kick involuntarily at the vibration from his words, his breath teasing at your cunt. “Then do it, Osc,” you whimper, fingers tightening in his hair. “Please.”

Apparently your begging does the trick. He plants one hand on your thigh, uses it to pull you towards him, spreading your thighs wide enough to keep them apart with his shoulders, and then presses the flat of his tongue to you, licking a long, hot stripe up your center. 

He eats you out like he’s been dying to do it, like he’s trying to figure out exactly what makes you tick, what will make you fall apart the fastest under him. It’s a little sloppy, hot and wet and reckless, but it works — tongue circling around your clit in a way that makes you moan high and breathless. The sound only seems to spur him on, fingers slipping into you a second after that. 

Your back arches off the tile at the feeling of his fingers, fucking you open slowly. Not that it’s doing a thing to cool you down anymore. With his mouth and his hands on you, you feel like you’re burning up from the inside out. 

When he sucks your clit into his mouth, crooking his fingers inside you, the sensation is nearly too much to bear. “Osc, don’t stop — I’m gonna —” you pant brokenly, hips rocking against his face, his hand.

“Let go. Come on, baby, let me taste it,” he murmurs directly into your core, and your orgasm rips through you, thighs shaking around Oscar’s shoulders. He works you through it, tongue lapping at you like he wants to devour you as you writhe beneath him. 

When you finally come back down to earth, you tug him back up your body until you’re face to face. “You good?” he asks breathlessly, looking down at you. He’s so pretty like this — wild-eyed, flushed and panting, hair mussed, mouth shining. 

“Yeah. Yes,” you nod, dazed. “So fucking good.” He grins down at you, obviously pleased, if the way his hips twitch into yours is anything to go by. 

You reach up for him instinctively, suddenly desperate to taste yourself on his tongue. The resulting kiss is hot and sticky and perfect, even better when you let your hand slip between the two of you to palm at his cock through his briefs. He hisses, jerks his hips forward as you work your fingers beneath the waistband, pulling them down just enough for his length to spring free, hard against his stomach. 

He breaks the kiss just enough to shove the briefs down, past his ankles, kicking them to the rapidly growing pile of clothes in the corner of the kitchen. When your hand wraps around him, thumbing across the tip and spreading the wetness gathering there down his length with one experimental pump, he gasps, hips canting against your hand. 

“Fuck, you can’t — I’m not gonna last if you do that,” he admits, eyes closed and breathing uneven. 

Maybe it’s the heat that makes you bold, or maybe it’s his honesty, saying straight out how badly you affect him. But something makes you grin up at him and say it: “Maybe you should hurry up and get inside me, then.”

His eyes snap open, and he makes a wrecked little noise at that, something between a whimper and a growl. “Fuck. Okay. Condom. In my room, I think —”

You laugh, breathless, hooking one leg around his waist and pulling him down to press his forehead against yours. “I’m on the pill. And I trust you, Osc.”

His eyes flutter shut like that might legitimately be his undoing, cockhead pushing at your slick folds, barely holding himself back. “Jesus fucking Christ. Okay.”

He lines himself up, sinks into you so slowly that it’s torture. The feeling is overwhelming, the stretch, the heat of it. He’s thick, perfect, pressed so deep into you when he finally bottoms out that it nearly steals the breath from your lungs. 

“Shit,” Oscar chokes out, helpless. “You feel — fuck, you feel insane.”

You dig your heels into his back, nails dragging over his shoulders. “Probably feel better if you move,” you breathe, and his eyes go dark, pulling out just to slam back into you with a long moan.

He finds a rhythm fast. Messy, desperate thrusts that echo filthily against the tile every time his hips snap into yours, skin sliding against skin. He’s bracing one hand beside your head, the other gripping under your thigh to keep you spread open, flushed and panting beneath him.

“You’re so —” he starts, voice breaking into a moan as you rock your hips to meet him with each thrust, your cunt gripping him warm and tight and ready. “Fuck. Wanted this so bad.”

“You thought about this?” you manage between gasps, and he nods. 

“All the fucking time. Jesus, you feel so good,” he groans, voice rough and hot against your ear. “So fucking tight, baby — m’not gonna last.”

You’re a mess beneath him already, gasping and clawing at his back as he fucks into you. “Don’t have to,” you whine as he hikes your leg up his waist, opening you up even more for him. The angle has your vision blurring, seeing stars every time his length scrapes that one spot inside you. “Want you to come, Osc, please, need to feel you.” You clench around him on instinct, and he shudders, hips stuttering.

“Fuckfuckfuck, don’t do that, I’m so close,” he grits out, hand sliding between your bodies to your clit, rubbing tight little circles against you. “Need to make you come first.”

You let out a moan, almost incoherent. You can already feel it building, coiling low and tight in your stomach, sparked by the heat and his voice and the frantic way he’s moving inside you. “Osc, I’m gonna —”

“Yeah?” he breathes, eyes fluttering shut as you pulse around him, so close to falling over the edge. “Do it then. Want to feel it on my cock.”

You come with a yelp, back arching and cunt fluttering around him. A moment later, Oscar’s rhythm falters inside you, and then he’s gasping your name, spilling into you with a groan that vibrates against your skin.

He stays like that for a moment, shivering in the aftermath, pressed fully against you, skin slick and sticky, chest rising and falling in uneven bursts.

“...So,” he breathes, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “That definitely didn’t help us cool down.” 

You laugh, breathless. Fucked out. “Not even a little bit.”

“Cold shower together next?” he grins, dazed, cheeks flushed as he waggles an eyebrow at you. You smack him on the arm lazily in response, no real heat behind it. 

But you don’t say no. And when he scoops you up off the floor into his arms and carries you to the bathroom, you get a distinct, giddy sort of feeling that no matter how long the heat wave lasts, whatever is happening between the two of you isn’t cooling off anytime soon.

[star-girl69]

Because Of You

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

synopsis: years after your rite of passage, the boy who’s heart you broke just won’t leave you alone. clarisse, your girlfriend, quickly decides she’s not a fan.

a/n: should i stop procrastinating and then forcing myself to write shitty fics quickly? probably. but not today!! this is kinda just like an au of dont delete the kisses but… you guessed it… IDC!!!!!!!! from this ask

thank you all so much for patiently waiting i love y’all soooooo muuccchhhhhh 🫶🫶💋 as i mentioned on my acc i have the next week off from school, pls expect more content then!!

Because Of You - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, this sucks so bad y’all sorry lolllll, y/n is a year round camper!, starts out very background heavy but i really don’t care 😭, creepy men UGH, ugly bitches not being able to let shit go, im gonna say sexual harassment just incase, swearing, usual demigod stuff y’all know what you’re getting into, jealous!clarisse YESSS, possessive!clarisse ik i screamed!!, protective!clarisse too, slightly graphic makeout scene, i think that’s all, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

When you were young, you were thrilled by the thought of love.

The idea of belonging not only with someone- bodies fitting together like puzzles pieces- but belonging to someone- wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

Later, your half-siblings would describe mostly similar experiences to yours- an overwhelming desire to be loved, wanted, needed. Ever since you ran into camp with a monster hot on your heels and satyr shouting encouragement next to you- everyone’s stared at you. They poke and prod, they act like they’ve never seen a daughter of Aphrodite before.

It’s annoying, but it makes you feel good- but not quite.

Until Alek came along.

You were both 13, you still believed in soulmates, and you wanted nothing more than to be with each other for the rest of your lives.

You were 13, and he felt like the only one for you.

And when you had to break up with him to fulfill your rite of passage- it felt like the world was ending. You cried for days and begged your sister Phoebe to say it wasn’t a true, it was just a mean, mean prank.

But she couldn’t tell you that, and there were more types of love that romantic.

While you longed to hold someone, to be held- you also craved your mother’s approval like you were starving. You wanted her love, you wanted her to visit you in your dreams, you wanted gifts from her, you wanted everything and anything she could give you.

So, it hurt like you had never known hurt before, but you did it. Alek seemed entirely indifferent to it, almost ignoring you and pretending you hadn’t said it- but you felt a warmness around you, a dove flew between trees, you knew your mother was there and she approved.

Breaking up with Alek felt like the sun had exploded on top of you.

Being with Clarisse felt like the sun was wrapped around you.

—-

After Alek’s initial denial, he went through all the other stages of grief, mourned your relationship like you did, and you came out on the other side with a one-sided agreement to forget it ever happened.

Alek got stuck. Or went back. He started to believe that you were still meant to be, that much you could tell.

Until that day at the training fields when your hand slipped at archery and you almost shot Clarisse in the head- and she had glared at you so harshly while you ran over and examined her head, gushing out apologies and fretting over her.

She pushed you away, hand lingering for a second, eyes softening before she quickly looked away.

“Just… be more careful,” she had said, almost like a question, like she wasn’t sure the words were coming out of her mouth.

And, Gods, were you terrified it was all some secret plan. Make you think it was alright only to corner you in the woods and probably kill you, or something.

And when she asked the next day to teach you how to shoot a bow, you agreed with tears in your eyes, knowing of her reputation, and it took a lot of trust and a lot of swapped secrets for her to prove to you it wasn’t all some elaborate plan.

But even if her plan was to kill you the entire time, you fell in love over her fixing your stance, hands brushing as you accidentally grabbed the same arrow, stolen looks across the pavilion.

It wasn’t until a random kid bumped into you, making you fall and twist your ankle. Clarisse had this look in her eyes that was so genuine, so full of love and care for you, softly caressing your leg after she had punched the other kid in the face.

And you realize as she said you were doing great, limping while she helped you to the infirmary, that this was something.

And as much as you hated the violence being committed over you, it was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, and the warmth in your chest was all you had ever wanted. This was what it was like to belong with someone, to someone, with her, to her.

This was what it was like to be admired. Loved. Wanted. Needed.

And when she softly told you goodbye, you had kissed the corner of her lips and thanked her- turning to walk into your cabin, ankle already feeling better thanks to the ambrosia.

She grabbed you by the wrist and turned you around, pulling you against her tightly and kissing you so harshly like she had just found the secret to the world in her lips on yours, her hands on your hips.

And when she finally pulled away, embarrassing strings of spit connecting your lips, she said she was sorry. Probably the first time she had ever said that to someone, and you smiled.

“Sorry. It’s just… once your lips were on mine, I don’t think I can ever stop. I don’t wanna stop.”

And she kissed you again and it was all you ever wanted out of this life- to love and be loved, to hold and to be held, and it was all because of her.

—-

The welcome back campfire is your favorite time of year.

It’s when the camp comes alive, when the Gods themselves seem to return to this place- even Mr. D is a bit more lively with all the pure infectious energy running through the first few days of camp. Everyone’s getting settled, classes haven’t started quite yet, and the year round campers get a much needed break.

As much as you and Clarisse wanted to keep things private, when she punches someone in the middle of the pavilion for accidentally bumping into you, it’s not hard to figure out Clarisse cares for you more than she does anyone else.

And after one of your younger siblings, Cara, a 12-year-old notorious for staying up late, saw you and Clarisse kissing that first night- it spread like wildfire.

But it was the winter, so it still felt secret, until summer rolled around and Clarisse kept getting more and more annoyed by every camper who entered the gates. She would grab at you in the middle of meals, drag you into her bed, even kiss you in public- do all these things that seemed so out of character for her, but she was a different person when she was with you.

Everyone had been looking at you oddly all night, shocked, confused, even Clarisse has cracked a genuine smile at someone who dropped their drink- squeezing your hand.

Maybe they had all heard the rumors. Maybe they didn’t believe them.

But it’s all cleared up when Clarisse leads you to the best seat, the log not too far from the fire but not too close, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your temple.

Your cheeks heat up, only because Clarisse is never this touchy in public, and never around this many people before.

All of the eyes on you feel weird- they feel so judging.

And you’re not used to that, however vain it may be.

“Everyone’s staring at us,” you mumble, shuffling closer to Clarisse so your legs are pressed together.

She leans her head against your shoulder. “‘S okay. Don’t worry about ‘em, baby.”

You huff. “Did no one ever teach them it’s rude to stare, though? Like… c’mon.”

She sighs dramatically, lifting her head from your shoulder.

“Stop fuckin’ staring,” she says. Not quiet shouting, but her voice is loud and forceful. Her voice carries weight.

And eventually, at the risk of Clarisse’s wrath, all the wandering eyes stop.

A few of Clarisse’s siblings laugh from around you, commenting that the stares were getting a bit ridiculous, everyone just grateful that you all might get a little reprieve from the overwhelming stares and whispers.

But, you still feel uneasy. Clarisse kisses your shoulder.

And while you look around at the faces very pointedly not staring at you, there’s one person who still is. You roll your eyes, open your mouth to comment on it- but your mouth quickly snaps close at the sight of Alek.

—-

You don’t mention it to Clarisse. Maybe because breaking his heart haunts you, maybe what could have been haunts you.

You try not to think of Alek or that night, you try not to think of the entire age of 13. You always knew that Alek never quite let you go. He still sort of believed that the two of you would come back together- subscribing to some abstract belief soulmates.

You don’t think about Alek. Everything you do is because of her, because of Clarisse.

Sometimes, knowing you have secret admirers makes you feel all happy, but now that Clarisse sneaks you into her cabin every night- it makes you feel weird. You really don’t want anyone except for Clarisse, the idea of even being near someone else kinda disgusts you.

But, you choose to believe that maybe he was just shocked, and he’ll get over it in a few days.

You spend your days in the summer sun with Clarisse, holding her hand on walks through the strawberry fields, still using your archery lessons to spend time together, staring at each other from across the pavilion at meals, dreaming about a future together when it gets dark and you’re forced to whisper softly.

Alek is just always lurking. Is it coincidence? Is he stalking you? Every time you’re with Clarisse, trying to enjoy a nice date, he’s there- staring at you like a lovesick puppy.

And if it wasn’t because of her, you would probably be flattered. But you have Clarisse, you’ve moved on, you’re in love and happy.

It’s the late afternoon, you’re trying to enjoy a long moment with her, breathe in the sweet smell and just feel how happy you are, know it’s because of her.

The fields are still crowded with kids who pushed off their chores until the end of the day, so you and Clarisse stay on the outskirts. Not too far into the woods that’s filled with satyrs and nymphs who have grown very hostile towards any two campers who make their way into the woods. But not too close.

You don’t even register that other people are there. You’re going on about your annoying half-brother, she’s pretending to listen intently- but it’s just enough to be here with her, and at least she’s listening to the sound of your voice. At least that brings her some comfort, and that makes you feel good.

“And then, he said-” you trail off, feeling like something’s crawling all over you, practically being able to feel the anger in the air.

“Hm, what?” Clarisse asks, snapping out of her reverie at your silence.

Alek is glaring at you, of course. It just feels so juvenile. You had received letters from him for years- ones that he didn’t sign- but you knew. He said that the two of you had so much more to give together, that a second chance was all he needed to make you forget about the rite of passage, about pleasing your mother.

Clarisse squeezes your hand, leaning closer to you.

You used to like the feeling of getting those letters, of knowing you were loved and wanted. But now, with Clarisse, because of her- it feels wrong.

She follows your eye line and Alek quickly looks away, back down at the strawberries he’s supposed to be picking.

Clarisse’s hand tightens around yours.

“Who the hell is that?” she huffs.

You suck in a breath. “Alek.”

“Al-huh?”

You smile, despite how uneasy you feel.

“Alek, Clarisse. From my rite of passage?”

“Oh,” she nods, nose scrunching ever so slightly. “The one who left you those creepy letters? Has he left anymore?”

“No, no,” you say, risking one more glance at his back- just to assure yourself. Maybe you’re just making it all up. “Not since last summer. I mean, he was staring at us the night of the bonfire too, he’s always around on all our dates- it’s just creepy, at this point.”

“Sounds like the fucker has a death wish,” she drawls. “I’d be happy to help him with it.”

You bump her shoulder with yours. “Yeah, yeah Miss Violence.”

She smiles back, but she searches her eyes and you can tell she doesn’t like what she sees.

“Hey, c’mon. I’ll kill him if he pulls some shit again.”

“Clarisse.”

“Beat him up?”

“Clarisse.”

“Physically threaten him?”

“Clar-”

She smacks her hand over your mouth. “Shhh,” she smiles. “Don’t stress. I’ll take care of it.”

“Clarisse!” you shout, laughing, but her hand is still pressed tight over your moth.

“Oh, sorry, baby, I can’t hear you!”

“Bitch,” you hiss, and she frowns.

“Mean.”

—-

Clarisse, unfortunately, is true to her word.

Alek finally leaves you a note. It’s simple, unsigned, but obviously him. You recognize his chicken scratch scrawl.

All it says is:

I miss you, we could be something

She writes him a note back, a long one- first talking about all of her accomplishments as a daughter of Ares, then detailing all the ways she’ll make him regret thinking about you.

She tells you now, whispers in her bed, she laughs and your mouth hangs open.

“Clarisse!” you gasp, scolding her with a soft hit to her shoulder.

She rolls her eyes and moves closer to you.

“What else was I supposed to do? Ignore it? You don’t know me if you think I could just ignore some random dude flirting with my girlfriend. He’s a fuckin’ weirdo, and hopefully that note will teach him somethin’.”

“I mean. I doubt it will,” you mumble after a moment.

She smiles, your heart squeezes- because her smile is so beautiful- and because Clarisse never smiles like this. It’s bloodthirsty. It’s almost inhuman. It’s Godly.

“Then I’ll have to teach him in… other terms.”

—-

Dinner this evening is slow and relaxed. It’s Friday, so you’ve all made it to the end of the first official week of camp. Chiron let’s the rules fade away tonight, cabin tables have been abandoned and everyone sits where they want.

A few Hermes kids volunteered to start a fire, Mr D is busy trying to get the new kids to sneak him some alcohol- but he’s hard pressed to find ones who haven’t already been warned not to.

The energy in the air is infectious. The promise of a late wake up tomorrow, a fun night, the feeling of the moon and the fire, warmth on your skin- it’s a recipe for lowered inhibitions, for everything to come a little easier.

Clarisse sits next to you a table in the pavilion. You’re surrounded by Silena and Beckendorf, a few Hermes kids, a few Ares kids- a big mosh of random campers squeezed together at this one table- but it works, for whatever reason.

There’s nothing like laughing at someone’s shitty joke and feeling Clarisse laugh with you, pressed close to her so you can feel her chest rumble, feel her arm squeeze around you.

“He did what?!” Silena screeches, looking at you with wide eyes.

You laugh at her shock, at the audacity of Alek.

She sneaks a quick glance at Clarisse, who seems entirely engrossed in her siblings’ arm wresting tournament at the next table over.

“Yeah,” you sigh, feeling sort of complacent with it now. It’s not like anything will change. You’re here because of her, because of Clarisse. Everything you do is because of her.

Breathing, eating, sleeping. Basic human functions and the need to survive has only strengthened with the motivation of staying alive for her.

“Anyways,” you smile. “Clarisse left him back this big, long note. All about how she’s the strongest girl at camp,” you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too big to be anything but joking. Besides, everyone knows she’s probably right. “And then threatened him a whole bunch. So, hopefully, he’ll just get his head out of his ass and then everything will be good again.”

You breathe out at the end of your small rant, and Silena smiles sympathetically.

“Hopefully,” she echoes.

But, because of Clarisse, because of her arms around you, you don’t feel anything but peace.

—-

Of course, life is not straightforward for demigods.

At the end of the day, you’re doomed to fall in your parents footsteps- except there is no immortality for you to fall back on. You’re vain and you’re proud, just like your parents, and you step too far, jump too high, and you’re as left dust on the floor.

Even though the same path had been left out for you to repeat, doomed footsteps to follow in, you step where they stepped and expect a different end.

The night is pitch black, besides for the brilliant stars and the bright, bright moon. It makes everything feel so private and secret. It makes Clarisse relax, makes her hold you closer but looser.

It feels good to feel her arm loose around you. She’s not afraid of you disappearing, because she knows of someone dragged you away you would rise up from the waves and straight back into her, into her arms.

The Apollo kids are playing music, voices hum along, the night is on fire with the crackles and the rising smoke, on fire with the peace, the content.

It feels like nothing can hurt you here.

But you’re a demigod, and life is not that easy.

The seat next to you is abandoned, and you barely even take notice as it’s quickly filled again- but you take notice of the eyes on you, of the body leaning forward to speak softly to you.

The fact that he’s here, the fact that he blatantly didn’t listen- you suppose you could have felt some sympathy for before, craving a life that wasn’t his anymore. Living off of memories made him too hungry.

Your mouth presses into a thin line as you recognize the voice in your ear.

“Y/N, I jus’ wanna talk.”

The rest of the table has fallen silent, and you realize everyone had almost immediately taken notice of his entrance- and you could tell by the way Clarisse’s body was tense against yours- he would regret ever coming over here.

“Clarisse,” you mumble, shifting closer to her.

She hooks her head over her shoulder, shifting completely so she’s straddling the bench, pressed up against your back.

Her tone is genuinely confused.

“Are you, like, okay in the head?”

The table, previously silent with fear, now bubbles with forced laughter.

“It’s not of your business,” Alek says, staring directly into your eyes. You feel like a deer caught in headlights, just completely shocked, too scared to move like it will all become real.

Clarisse puts her hand on your forehead and floats it down across your face, and your eyes voluntarily flutter shut.

“You’re not even worthy of being looked at by her,” and you can hear the smile on her voice. She confidence seeping from her pores- you can feel it all with the way she’s protectively wrapped around you.

“Y/N,” he says again, ignoring her through gritted teeth. “I just want to talk.”

“If you say one more fuckin’ word to my girlfriend I’m gonna kill you.”

There’s no smile on her voice, no edge of a joke. Not even angry. She’s deathly calm. She’s focused, like a 20 pound weight sinking to the bottom of the sea. She cuts through whatever she has to and everything else knows to avoid her.

You don’t know why the hell Alek just can’t let the 13 year old version of you go, why he’s looking something where there’s nothing, and you’re just so done with all of this.

You open your eyes, sitting up, letting Clarisse’s arms fall around you in confusion.

“Alek,” you start, softly. “We dated for a month when we were 13. That’s all it was, that’s all it’s ever gonna be. It’s over, okay?”

“Exactly,” he breathes. “A month when we were 13- and we were that good together? We could do so much more now, I wanna show you.”

“Okay, I’m done,” you mumble, standing up.

And without you in between, Alek finally gets a good look at the daughter of war. She’s pure, streamlined muscle. Every inch of her body has been meticulously trained to kill monsters- Alek knows that killing him would be easy.

Clarisse cracks her knuckles and you almost laugh at how cinematic it is.

—-

You hum as you run the alcohol pad over her split knuckles. Clarisse likes to leave the scars like this, the small ones, let them heal on her own. Even though she winces at the feeling, you know she’ll be walking around, proudly showing off her scabs until they finally fade away. She’ll cross her fingers and hope they scar, probably.

Clarisse watches you with admiration, admiring your movements, your voice, even though you’re really not doing anything special. But, to her, everything you do is special.

“Did you see how bad his face was?” she asks, trying to remain calm, but eagerness slips into her voice.

“I did,” you laugh. “It was real bad, baby. Good job.”

She huffs, as if it’s common knowledge.

“I always do a good job, just matters what level of good I’m on. I think this was one of my best works though, huh?”

She admires her split knuckles and you roll your eyes, finally starting to put some bandaids on the clean wounds.

“You’re crazy,” you mutter.

She shrugs. “You’re the one who let me. You’re the one who loves me.”

“Yeah,” you mumble after a moment, not really wanting to lie to her, tease her right now. She smiles soft and sweet, placing her fingertips against your jawline and leaning forward.

“Did you like watching me?” she breathes, her low voice hitting you right in the stomach, breath against your lips.

You circle her biceps with your hands and run them up and down the tense muscle.

“You know I did.”

“Three months no dessert,” she smiles.

“Three months of sharing with you,” you laugh. She smiles wider before finally, mercifully, putting her lips on yours.

Everything you do is because of Clarisse. It feels so good to be close to her like this- practically in her lap- fo feel how strong she is, to know what she did for you today.

It feels so good to know she loves you.

When you pull away, trying to chase her, she dodges you and kisses your jawline, your neck, and you throw your head back and release the most unladylike sounds as she leaves hickies on your neck, seemingly determined to make them as dark as possible, as easy to see. And a lot of them.

“Jealous?” you say, biting your lip to keep in a moan.

“Just want everyone to know you’re my girl. Want everyone to know who makes you feel good, feel loved, huh?”

You stomach twists and your mind goes blank.

“Huh?” she repeats, sticking her face in your neck to breathe in and out, catching her breath. “Why you feelin’ like this, baby?”

“Because of you,” you breathe. “Because of you, Clarisse.”

—-

y/n walking around the next day looking like she got attacked by a vampire

silena trying to be happy for y’all but also concerned for your health

clarisse just being proud as hell

—-

this was small so idk if y’all picked it up but clarisse was jealous before alek even came along- jealous that there were more campers coming! like? she just doesn’t like unworthy losers looking at her girl 🙄

—-

possessive!clarisse i love you so much baby

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1

[skxllz]

Hi! IDK IF YOUR TAKING REQUESTS BUT IM GONNA SEND ONE ANYWAY AND YOU DONT HAVE TO DO IT IF YOU ARENT TAKING REQUESTS

Can you do Lucifer, Alastor and whoever else you wanna add with a reader who just swallows/eats anything/weird things?

A piece of tissue? Sure! Plastic? Yippee! A pebble? Why not! Keys? Yummy! A rubber duck? Quack quack! A piece of Alastors cane? Don’t kill me!!

I'm not currently taking requests but I'll do this for you hon <3 I apologize if it doesn't live up to your expectations!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 & 𝐯𝐨𝐱 𝐟𝐭...

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

🐤 - 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚛

➳ when you two first started dating - scratch that, first started talking, he picked up on the fact that you had random quirks. bored? you'd make random noises. sometimes, you'd lay on the floor just to lay there. for no reason, you'd hang upside down on the couches in the foyer. —he once questioned you and you said, I quote, “ I want to feel the blood rush to my head, it's fun. ”— to say the least, you puzzled him, but he brushed it off because who wasn't an oddball in hell?

➳ now, when you actually started dating and you got more comfortable is when he noticed some of his rubber ducks missing - and not just the ducks, but rather some of the things he used on them as well. glue, for example.

➳ “ hey, um, sweetie? ” he approached you one day, quite confused from where his things were suddenly disappearing to. you hummed in reply, looking up from your phone. lucifer blinked at you slowly, trying to come up with a way to word his sentence without seeming like he was accusing you of anything. “ have you seen my glue? the kind I use for- ” — “ no. ” you had answered too quickly for his liking.

➳ as the days carried on, more of his shit would vanish. it got to the point where it'd frustrate him. it wasn't until one day, where his latest creation knocked off of his desk and rolled under it, did he find one of the ducks he had been looking for. except... it had a bite mark taken out of it...

➳ lucifer was dubbed shocked. his eyes widened, lips pulled down in a duck-lipped press. what in the seven rings of hell? he's never seen anything like this, and he doesn't own a hell hound, so who-

➳ and then his mind drifted to you.

➳ he recalled your weird behaviour; the way you were sweating nervously and avoiding eye contact. he should've known you had something to do with it.

➳ but to eat his rubber ducks? he's going to have a serious talk with you about your diet.

+++

📻 - 𝚊𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛

➳ this radio demon didn't really show interest in you at first. you seemed innocent - too innocent, but still innocent, and that just didn't catch his attention in the slightest. if anything, you seemed bothersome.

➳ I'd like to think he first took interest in you when vaggie found a corner of the end of her spear broken off. no one dared touched it before, and you were new to the hotel - it didn't take a genius to put two and two together. but I guess, in a sense, no one else suspected you since you never bothered anything else.

➳ one night, when almost everyone was asleep, you snuck off to the kitchen to find something to eat. you were starving since you hadn't had dinner and couldn't really bother to just fall asleep on an empty stomach. a certain radio demon had followed you, startling you out of your wits as you turned around only to spot him there. “ funny to see you awake, dear! ”

➳ you explained to him, nervously, that you couldn't sleep. he hummed, pretending to show he was listening, before skipping right to the point of why exactly he was there. “ I couldn't help but realize that, earlier today when our dearest vaggie was rather upset, you hadn't moved an inch from your spot on the sofa. in fact, you seemed almost... ” he paused, pretending to ponder, his smile widening. “ guilty. care to explain the reasoning for that, hm? ”

➳ at that point, you were avoiding eye contact. hands twined behind your back, thumbs twiddling out of anxiousness, you searched for an excuse through your jumbled brain, attempting to think of absolutely anything just to slip away from alastor. but knowing him, he'd probably see right through the charade - he's been around way longer than you, and is a mastermind at getting into people's heads. no doubt he'd figure out you fibbed. — “ I just felt guilty that I couldn't help at all. vaggie is a close friend, I hate to see her upset. ”

➳ instead of buying the lie, like you had predicted, the bob-wearing demon leaned down and gave you a close-lipped grin; half lidded eyes flashing dangerously beneath the light that gleamed from atop the stove. “ or is it because, perhaps, you had something to do with it? ”

➳ that's when you blurted out. “ I ate it. ” and, much too afraid to gouge alastor's reaction, you turned and took off running out of the kitchen.

➳ if you would've stayed, however, you would've seen the way alastor's eyes momentarily widened. he was.. shocked, to say the least. he didn't think he had heard you right at first, but he knew for certain his ears didn't deceive him.

➳ with his narrowed eyes now staring after your figure, he straightened his posture, folding his hands behind his back and humming to himself. “ interesting creature, they are... ”

➳ you have now caught his attention. expect more interactions with the infamous deer!

+++

📺 - 𝚟𝚘𝚡

➳ picture this; you're one of velvette's models. you're dating vox, her business partner. they're both aware of how weird you can be, and yet, they both seem to favorite you - hell, even val (but let's face it, he just wants you for your body, which isn't going to happen).

➳ you're in the middle of getting your hair prepped and straightened when you had the sudden urge to just chew. it always came on randomly, but most of the time when you were bored. sitting in a chair, with sprits blasting into your face and hair utensils tugging in your hair, and hell forbid you weren't allowed to move- it was not exactly fun. so you started to eye the new collection of makeup sponges that were just set upon your personal vanity.

➳ they looked squishy, flimsy, chewable... oh so tempting. so while rachelle, your hairstylist, was busy talking her head off, too busy to notice you stretching your arm forward, you snatched one up.

➳ velvette came strutting down the midst of the aisle with a firm hand on her hip and a ripple in the center of her brow, shouting at many of the other stylists on what to do, what not to do - what looked better on her models, what looked cheap. she could not afford to have her best women looking as if they escaped the hands of a hellhound, it just wouldn't do. but that's when she turned, pointing a demanding finger at rachelle to amp up the heat on your straightener because the ends of your hair were curling up. that's also when she noticed you not only chewing on the newly bought sponge, but eating it.

➳ “ oh for fuck sake! ” the dark-skinned demon spewed, catching your attention and making you freeze. velvette reached an arm forward, only to wrap her digits around what was left of the sponge and rip it from your grasp. your chair turned on cue, showing you sheepishly smiling at the fuming female. “ I told you not to stuff your damn mouth full of random shit! especially my new makeup equipment — ” she turned away, stomping her healed foot to the ground. “ fuck! ”

➳ it wasn't long before vox had arrived before the demoness due to her calling him and shouting profanities over the phone. you were left to sit in the chair, huffing nonsense under your breath, while rachelle finished with your hair in silence.

➳ when the overlord made his presence known, rachelle excused herself — and thankfully she had finished your hair. “ y/n, dear.. ” vox smoothly spoke, for once not sounding like an overly cocky twat. it's usually only in the presence of others, but given that not many people were around, he dialed a softer tone with you.

➳ “ I didn't do anything, ” you rolled your eyes, looking away with a puffed out frown. yes, you were spoiled, but who wouldn't be, dating the owner and inventor of voxtech?

➳ vox sharply looked down at you, eyeing you with a sense of irritance —for angering velvette— but fondness —because you're his—. “ don't be like that. how many times have we talked about eating random things, hm? ”

➳ “ ... about- fifty nine? I lost count. ”

➳ “ around there. ” the tv demon moved, placing his hands on the back of the swivel chair you sat upon, while now holding eye contact with you through the mirror to your vanity. “ and what have we talked about, sweetheart? ”

➳ you were silent at first. staring him down, eyes hooded and ghosted over with annoyance. it was irritating how he was speaking to you like a child. “ well? ” vox impatiently, patiently, questioned; his claws dragging along the back of the chair, only to glide over your nape. closing your eyes out of bliss from the movement, you sighed. “ don't eat random things because they're bad for me... ”

➳ “ exactly. ” vox mischievously smiled down to you, squeezing the back of your neck gently. “ now, don't you think you owe velvette an apology? ”

➳ as you nod your head, vox releases his grip on you, letting your hair fall back down against your skin. “ good. come now, we have to get that out of the way; I have things to discuss with you. ”

➳ your discussion ended pretty well :).

[bunji-enthusiast]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙒𝙞𝙣𝙨

Haven’t really seen anything for Rae (x reader wise) just yet sooo… I wrote something super quick with her and red hood!reader. your gender is up to you :}

It wasn't often that there was any sort of recreational break for the supers in the world of aliens, super-powered and genius beings. All equating to mass destruction and death threats every single week, the toll it takes is immense without a doubt.

So you, an infamous vigilante decided to take it upon yourself to take your girlfriend out to a proper date. Something sweet and casual, without all the constant worrying over if 'I'm going to be next' or 'I can't keep doing this.'

"what even are you doing?" Rachel grins, trying to stifle a laugh at your actions. You just perk up with a lop-sided smile, jabbing a pointer finger and deftly wagging it.

"just watch okay? promise yer gonna like it." You reply, tugging out the ends of the picnic blanket.

"okay, okay." She concedes, crossing her arms as you continue fluffing out the blanket. Trying to ensure each and every crevice was perfect, then moving onto with laying out the plates and the food. It was all very domestic, surprisingly. Not unlike your usual vibe.

How did this just happen? You sent the shrinking hero a message of course, one of your rare, dumb but adorable ones. Normally you would send short---curt messages, however, what you sent this time was what really had her.

Heyyy, uh. Can you come over here if you got a minute? got something I think you'll like. :))))

Safe to say that she was absolutely caught off guard by that, but Rachel wouldn't have missed out on something like this. Besides, the effort was nice, not so... chaotic in the midst of what it's like being a guardian of the globe.

You were indefinitely wrapped up in your efforts to make sure the layout was perfect, okay enough to sit down on. You then stood back up with a triumphant stance, hands balled up, resting on your hips. "There we go, this is our little lunch for the afternoon."

She giggles, taking easy strides over to the setup as you grin at her; clearly very proud of your efforts. Also simultaneously embarrassed, but you went through with it. No turning back.

You know what it was like having your life on the near brink of death damn near everyday, but it was something you committed yourself to. Rachel on the other hand just borderline lived with this lifestyle her whole life thanks to her parents, from what you knew. But you held commendable respect for the woman, despite her fear against each and every villain, she does her best.

And you like to think; you do your best too.

it's not as if you were a complete stone cold asshole, you were still human too. One of your graces was being able to protect others, Rachel in particular. While you were initially reluctant and closed off, afraid to form bonds with others. She just... stood out to you, your heart was just enraptured by her beauty and humane kindness immediately. It genuinely confused you how she was here in a place like this, being a hero. She deserved so much more, live a life the way she wanted to.

Though it was obviously her choice, her terms. So for now, you'd support her, and take care of her when neccessary. It was in your nature, as much as you tried to push that part of you away. That fractured piece of your human nature eventually made its way back thanks to her, it was like she was a missing piece to the puzzle you've mulled over for so many years.

You sit down at her side, taking off your signature helmet. "Hope it's good, cause... I practiced like a shit-ton to make sure it wasn't horrible to taste." You admit shyly, rubbing the back of your neck. She simply nods, her eyes softening with affection. Her hand reaches for yours, and you take it, interlocking fingers.

"its fine," She mentions your name. "thank you." You return the sentiment with a small tilt of your head.

"Im glad."

[moldychefboyardeecan]

"Stop Saving Me, Just Love Me."

(side note: I think this banner is perfect for this series.)

Chapter 2

tag list: @one-sunny , please dont hesitate to ask for tags!

thank you @hannahbarberra162 for beta-ing, commenting and suggesting edits

a/n: I think her thing is going to be hands and necks. It’ll make sense guys please. uhh- i think im finding my "format" per se

cw : vomit, hangovers, smut, beginning of mania, sanji might be ooc?

wc: 1.4k

previous chapter (1) | next chapter (3)

To be fair, you did forget the night. Mostly? Thankfully?. You groan and wake up easily. No you didn’t, that was a fucking lie. Your head was pounding, the room spinning. Everything felt tight, your body as if it was being compressed. Holy shit, you’ve never felt this bad before. Maybe you had. Probably. You lay your head down onto your pillow. You’ll just grab onto the other one..the other pillow, where the fuc- You found it. But on someone’s head. You live alone. 

Halfway into your sleep-dazed shock, you try to process the information given your circumstances.

Now wait a damn minute..this isn’t even my bedroom. You lift your hands away from the mystery head and just rub your eyes. You must be hallucinating. You have to. You have to be! If you stay still, it’ll go away. It’ll go away, eventually. Oh, but the sun feels too bright, too real.  “Fuuuck” you groan. To your surprise, you hear shuffling from the other pillow. You weren’t hallucinating. Just what the hell did you get up to last night? Your fifth ignored call from your publisher. “Romance sells,” he’d said. “Give us something real.”

Right—the fucking bar. Then… what’s-his-face. Your thoughts stuttered. There was someone else—his hands, calloused, smelling of bourbon and cigarettes. This was no time to over think. You’re just going to get up, and you’ll wake up. Deep breaths, deep breaths. In, out. In, out. You could smell far more right now than you wanted to - some scents were unfamiliar but coming through was the same smells of cigarettes from the night before. Cigarettes. 

Any movement sent waves of nausea rolling through you—your head throbbed in time with your pulse, your core ached with the kind of soreness that screamed enthusiastic mistakes.

You glanced down.

Where the fuck—

Your clothes were gone. Just the lace of your bra digging angry red lines into your skin. The bedsheets—too crisp, too clean—itched against your thighs. Everything was too much: the stale taste of liquor, the sweat-slick press of your own palms against your face, the way your exhales bounced back hot and claustrophobic against your cupped hands.

A rustle of fabric behind you.

The mattress dipped.

“Bonjour, chérie.” You looked back and saw who was smiling at you, his cock hanging in the air.

It was at that moment you realized you were going to be sick. 

It all made sense now. He was the missing piece, and he fit the whole puzzle. And with your deduction, he fit into you too. 

Last night flooded back into your mind, your face frozen to him like a deer in headlights.

Your laugh. Your hands,his calloused hands tracing the rim of his bourbon glass. Two taps. Pause, no that’s wrong. It has to be prime numbers!. Three taps. A rhythm that matched the restless drum of your fingers on the sticky countertop.

Your laugh—too loud, too sharp. "Fuuuuuck mojitos," you’d slurred, slamming back his bourbon like a shot. The burn had been glorious,phenomenal. Four glasses in, and the world had finally softened at the edges.

He’d watched you over his third drink, that infuriating smirk playing on his lips. "You drink like you’re trying to drown something, mademoiselle."

You’d leaned in, close enough to taste the tobacco on his breath. "Maybe I am."

And then—Hands. 

His hands, rough and sure, sliding up your thighs. Your own fingers fumbling with his cufflinks. You jumped to him. You were tired of the games. The way he’d muttered "Doucement" against your neck when you got impatient—

The memory seared through you, white-hot and humiliating.

God. You really were going to be sick.

 They were calloused, but they felt so smooth against your collarbone. He worshiped you with just one hand on your body, while the second one was curled inside you, hitting you in ways never felt possible. His thumb circled your clit oh so heavenly. His lips tasted like money, good liquor and cigarettes. His cock felt amazing in your hands, and when he went in you, mumbling beautiful nothings while you sped up and let your libido take the lead. You came with a shout, but it wasn’t enough—you needed his hands, his mouth, the entire city at your feet. This is what he wanted. This is what your publisher needs! Yes, yes!

The night was a strobe light—flashes of his mouth, your nails in his back, a laugh that might’ve been yours or a stranger’s.

The heat you felt. His face. You held on to him and grabbed his neck like a damn cowboy riding his horse. You didn’t ride him—you claimed him. His gasp was your trophy. “Come for me cowboy.. come in me.” 

You slurred and slipped between breaths. His body was shuddering and his cock twitching in your walls. 

He took your hair and neck in return, never parting from your gaze. Christ, you begged for him. How fucking pathetic. You fell on to him, panting. 

Before that..before all that, you couldn’t even stand up. He was holding your waist out of the bar, trying to get you a taxi.

"Mademoiselle," Sanji exhaled a plume of smoke."That taxi isn't calling itself."

You waved a hand, the motion sending the room tilting. "I can walk! Very... sturdy. Like trees. With words."

He let you go and you fell onto him. You grabbed him, a mess already, and kissed him, grinding against his length in front of the bar parking lot. Right. He took you to his place. 

He rode you. He took you in, and every inch of him never went to waste. He let you use him. He made sure you were prayed to last night. Every thrust was a victory, every gasp proof you were divine.

Shit. Shit!

“y/n..?” somewhere faded in the background. “Hello..?” “Chérie, you’re with us”? The voice got louder and louder, till you met the face saying it. The present came flooding back, your eyes still pierced onto him. He was squatting down in front of you, where you still sat on the edge of his bed. It wasn’t a dream. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! The room still spins like a top, but you can tell he has underwear on now. He 's still there. He looks concerned. He— has.. your vomit all over him.

“Mon dieu. You really are a handful, huh?” He smiled, taking a drag of his cigarette, seemingly superglued to his hand. “I’ll make us some coffee.” You nodded. What could you say at the moment? Something to lighten the mood.

“Th-thanks. For last night. The..drinks. Thanks.”

His attitude was intoxicating. He got up and headed to the bathroom. “Allow me to clean myself first.”

“Uh..yeah- sounds great.” What the fuck where you saying?! ‘Sounds great??

you moron!  You try to get up before he tuts you.

“Ah-ah-ah, I wouldn’t do that just yet. I’ll bring you a fresh change from my closet. Lay down, allow Sanji to care for you.”

That was his name! You knew you were whimpering a name last night. Sounds about right. You flushed. “Alright then, Casanova,” ou replied with what little dignity you had left.

It didn’t take long for everything to come back to you again, harder like a truck. Shameful. Slut. You put yourself on him. You did that to him. You vomited. You spent his money. You fucked him. 

You put your hands onto your head, letting your fingers tap on your forehead. tap-tap-tap. 3. Odd. Maybe the fling wasn’t a bad idea. tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. 5. Prime. My publisher said he wanted more romance in my book. tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. 8. Fibonacci. I’ll write this. This’ll save my manuscript. This’ll save my career. This. this. THIS. tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-ta- Someone cut you off.

“Brought this for you.” He was wrapped into a towel, clean from your vomit. He handed you a white button down, a pair of jeans,and a belt. “The bathroom is on your right once you leave the bedroom.”

You got up, stumbling on the first three steps. On the right.. In the bathroom, you decide to take a look at what you became. Instead, the paintings elegantly hung on his bathroom would distort into darkness, and words hanging over you, like a tightening noose. Slut. Whore. Failure. Alchie. Maniac. Crazy. Crazy. The word slithered in. You laughed—crazy like a fox, crazy like a wildfire. Crazy. Crazy. Crazy. Crazy. 

You’ll write him a fucking masterpiece.

It felt like a nightmare. But oh fuck, you felt so alive.

[cosmic-giraffe]

PLEASE make that post about reducing hasemura and hirojima down to just their ships im desperate to see people complain about this please i hate it so much

Ask anon, and you shall receive

First of all, I touched on this issue a few weeks ago, as you can read here, so I'll try and explain my thought process better! Secondly, this less of a complaint, and more of a study in fandom etiquette and the like.

I think people narrowing down the characters of Ken, Kazutoshi, Ojima and Hiroaki to their respective ships isn't an issue solely in the Tetro fandom, or Danganronpa as a whole. It's an issue in any media that includes queer ships, or ships in general (which is literally any media ever). As a gay person, I'll be speaking from my experience with this problem in fandom.

First of all, Hasemura. Both Ken and Kazutoshi are very interesting characters on their own, and their chemistry is undeniable. I'm a sucker for these two; for somebody as shy and socially awkward as Ken to befriend a brooding, jaded guy like Kazutoshi makes for some very fun and insightful interactions. Their contrasting lives and personalities are one of the draws for their dynamic. There was obviously something going on between the two of them, even if they never got the chance to vocalize or even understand the feelings they had. But this will-they-won't-they aspect of their dynamic isn't all that's to them.

Kazutoshi was a very depressed individual. He'd faced many hardships in his life, from losing his family at a young age to his myriad of health issues, to his mental illnesses resulting in multiple failed suicide attempts. But outside of his trauma, Kazutoshi was a very smart person. He was a forensic crime scene cleaner for God's sake, which definitely isn't an easy profession, mentally or physically. He wanted to study, he wanted to move past his hardships and flourish, he wanted to live. Just like everybody else in the killing game. But Kazutoshi was a total asshole, which I love. He didn't hold his tongue and kept people at arm's length out of fear of being hurt again.

Ken is the inverse of that. He has a supportive family, he has wealth, he has a support system in place. He might not be the loudest personality in the room, and he might stumble over his words more often than he can get a full sentence out, but Ken is a very kind and considerate individual.

For people to reduce all the intricacies and nuance of their characters and writing to their ship is doing them both a huge disservice. There's so much more to them than that. It's so much more interesting to view Kazutoshi and Ken's potential for a relationship as a small piece in the puzzle of their lives, instead of it being all-encompassing.

Going back to Kazutoshi, it is very sad to see the main takeaway from his death being "He never got to tell Ken that he loved him!" Which, yes, is undeniably tragic. In media, there's a sad trope called "Bury your gays", in which gay characters are killed off before they can ever have a happy ending.

I'm definitely not accusing Von of this, as Danganronpa has plenty of queer characters that die off (Chihiro, Mondo, Taka, Ibuki, Nagito, Tenko, etc.). But for people to look over all the missed opportunities Kazutoshi will never get the chance to experience because of his brutal death in favour of making his loss about Ken again is not the best look.

Now, onto Ojima and Hiroaki, because BOY do I have thoughts about these two, mainly Hiroaki (the little shit he is, I love him so much lmao).

These two suffer the same issue as Hasemura, that being all their characterization being boiled down to their shipping potential. Which isn't unsurprising, as they're two skinny pale twinks in an anime art style, which is like crack for teenage fujoshis lmao

But on a serious note, Ojima and Nakamigawa are more similar to each other than Ken and Kazutoshi are. Both have tense relationships with their families and their reputation, both have unresolved trauma, and both of them have an interest and career in the arts.

But that's where they differ. Ojima is an illustrator, and has a very intense crunchtime to navigate under in his profession. The stress of having to create art for countless projects definitely has its toll on him, but he still retains the passion that got him into this sector in the first place. Ojima doesn't have a bombastic personality, but he is stern when he needs to be, and is definitely one of the more mature students in the killing game. His bouts of disassociation are also an integral aspect of his character, and they are intermittent and uncomfortable.

And Hiroaki is one of the most annoying students ever and I love him. He's crass, pompous, has an irritating holier-than-thou attitude to anybody he deems to be beneath him, and can't take what he dishes out. He constantly picks fights and insults people, and then acts surprised when nobody wants to be around him. But underneath all that veneer of flashy designer clothes and bad boy image, Hiroaki is a very insecure boy that needs somebody to reel him in and let him know that being open, honest, and in touch with his feelings isn't at all a bad thing to be. He's shown his more sensitive side when he thinks Ojima is dissociating, when Tsuno was upset and she sought comfort from him out of all the other students in the school, and when he helped Hama and Wada grieve the loss of Isono, Chiba and Harada.

Hiroaki has the capability to grow and become a better person, and due to recent events, he is starting to do so. I hope he stays on this path and doesn't backtrack when things get tough.

Now, onto their dynamic. Ojima and Hiroaki obviously contrast and compliment each other well. This is all thanks to Von's writing. When Hiroaki shoots his mouth off, it's almost always Ojima that reels him in. When Ojima is in one of his lapses, it's usually Hiroaki who keeps him company by simply staying in the room, drawing, while he patiently waits for him to come back. They share dorm rooms to the point they're basically one room, they share clothes, they even share beds sometimes. The chemistry between them is undeniable, and that's why they're such a good pairing.

But what irks me is when people make their personalities completely revolve around the other. Hiroaki this, Ojima that, Hiroaki this, Ojima that. No mention of their interesting dynamics with other students, like how Ojima and Wada bonded over their respective histories with trauma, nor how Hiroaki and Tsuno confide their problems in each other so as to not burden anybody else with them (I'll take any opportunity to bring up Tsuno lmao).

And this is never more prevalent with Hiroaki's coming out scene.

It doesn't take a genius to know that being closeted is a very stressful time in a queer person's life. It's hiding a huge aspect of your life for fear of being judged by outsiders, or from being judged by yourself. That's why some people never come out of their closet, and are unable to accept and be their true selves. Which happens all too often.

Hiroaki's internalized homophobia kept him closeted for years of his life, which definitely wouldn't have helped his self-image issues. Being thrust into the public eye as the Ultimate Fashion Designer definitely wouldn't have helped, either, as now he had thousands of eyes on him. Due to this pressure, he played up his bad boy image by dating and sleeping with girls he had no attachment to, just to cover up for his own crippling insecurities and inability to accept himself.

When Hiroaki does come out of the closet for the very first time, when he finally accepts an aspect of his life he'd been repressing for years, he says it to Yanagi. Not Ojima. Yanagi. Yanagi, the guy who almost sold them all down the river during the first trial when he covered up for Sasaki (who they also both had very differing views on). Yanagi, the guy who beat the shit out of him and broke his nose, dislodged his tooth, and bruised up the face that he'd kept in immaculate condition for the public constantly watching his every move.

Out of all the people in the killing game, Hiroaki told Yanagi, and it was excellent writing for that to be the case. There was no judgement, no criticism, just acceptance, which is what Hiroaki has been seeking his entire life. But was forced to wear a costume that wasn't really him, just to avoid the pain of rejection or judgement.

And for some people to take this monumental step in Hiroaki's journey of self-acceptance and make it all about Ojima is INSANELY insulting. It's obvious that Hiroaki has feelings for Ojima, which definitely added to the mounting pressure of him being closeted, but in that moment, it was about Hiroaki and loving himself.

Now, in summary, I'm not saying shippers can't ship Hasemura or Hirojima. Quite the opposite. Be unapologetically gay!! But also keep in mind the harm they're doing when they reduce the participants down to their attraction to the other, as it is a disservice to Tetro's excellent character writing, and also perpetuates the issue that has been prevalent in fandom spaces for way too long now.

This was a very long post and I didn't realize just how much I had to say about this subject, but here we are!! Tetro has definitely wormed its way into my heart, and its characters are constantly rotating in my brain like a microwave lmaooo

[faineantgrl]

WAKES UP IN A COLD SWEAT.

THE DEVIL IS OBSESSED WITH MAKING VIDEO GAMES BECAUSE HE NOT ONLY WANTS LITERAL SOULS BUT WANTS TO MAKE SOMETHING WITH METAPHORICAL SOUL

IT FIRST DEVELOPS WITH PONY ISLAND, RIGHT? IT PROBABLY STARTED OFF AS A TRICK OR SOMETHING BUT DEVELOPED INTO "I GOTTA MAKE A GOOD FUCKING GAME"

but heres the thing: he lacks CREATIVITY. under developers of pony island he calls himself "stan tehdvil" and eventually goes by "lou natas" IN THE REAL ASS LIVING WORLD. this shows that he lacks creativity, the true kind, because come on man.

he has One good thing going on, the whole "pony island jump and destroy" gameloop and keeps trying to make it something more than just a simple game. but he struggles, because he doesn't understand why people love games that are more than just a simple gameplay loop with story and all that. he sees ""theodore"" [im still suspicious of that] potentially having fun solving the code puzzles and tries to incorporate that, but he fails to understand the fun isn't just solving the puzzle, but progressing the story that we are so deeply interested in.

the whole lost soul, final escape sequence, all that? it's NOT the devil trying to make any kind of game, it's just him getting upset with and tricking the player. but he fails to understand it's THAT which makes a good game.

the hex is centered around lionel snill's creations n whatnot, but we cannot forget the gamefuna ruining lionel's life sideplot. whats important to note is how the first two weaselkid game reviews are all about the quality of the game related to the earnest-ness, the soul of it. the devil tries to make a third game after buying the rights, as a CHEAT CODE TO MAKING A GOOD GAME. but he fails because he cannot be lionel. the reason everything from then on happens to lionel is because the devil realises that lionel has a special touch he doesn't, and is trying to "study" his games, why they're so beloved.

inscryption i think is a real turning point. remember how inscryption is both simultaneously a card game turned video game that was never finished, AND somehow a front for the old_data? heres what i think:

first off, as far as i know, gamefuna did not make the card game inscryption. once again, the devil‚ after losing his golden child for Good Games is trying to take a pre-existing beloved thing to make a good game. heres why i dont think inscryption, the normal game, actually released in-universe:

he failed again. it was never good enough to even RELEASE.

the old_data coverup floppy disk, however? the sentient characters... were making a good game. that's a huge reason why the devil Lost His Shit when it went missing, but im getting ahead of myself.

i think magnificus is not only the worst gameplay-wise, but also the CLOSEST TO THE ORIGINAL GAME. we already know the gameplay itself has been heavily modified by the game characters [arguably even without the use of the 3d-ifier OLD_DATA]. everything about him seems to be screaming about how unfinished he is, even p03 making that abundantly clear with his uberbot, and i dont think this is a coincidence. everything fun about his act 2 comes from the puzzles of a probably heavily modified aspect of gameplay. i'd also like to point out the fact that act 2, the closest to the original inscryption, has the whole OLD_DATA situation to thank for its funnest moments. inscryption, as the devil had designed it, was probably a much worse game.

but the others, leshy's attention to detail, p03's love for game design, grimora's fearlessness from breaking from the format laid out for her, they gave the game SOUL.

here's a question we never really solve: what the hell is the OLD_DATA?

it seems to contain a bunch of information outside of the karnoffel code, and lets be real the devil doesn't need whatever power that code provides, that doesn't really make sense to be included... on the surface.

its told to be horrible and horrific, but to the game characters, who are the very ones saying it, it's not very relevant to them from what we see [lbr i dont think anybody gives a shit about history that doesn't affect their existence in inscryption That Much]. But we must understand: it's always collecting.

It's collecting a story. It's collecting a timeline of events that generally move *humans*, emotionally. and the horrible secret of the OLD_DATA, what horrifies everyone, what horrifies the creative minds inside that floppy drive?

it's the worst nightmare possible in this scenario, of course: it's stealing the information of how to make a good game against their will. and that is the only reason the devil allowed them to still exist.

do you wonder why it took so long for panda circus to be made, in-universe? its because the devil needed to know that x-factor. what makes a good game with soul.

what makes people love your work. love you.

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

𝔅𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔗𝔬 𝔜𝔬𝔲

Pairings: AU!Street fighter Hook x Fem!Reader

Warnings: +18, adult language, angst, fluff

A/N: Special thank you to @theworldofotps for providing me the support I needed to finish this 💋

Tags: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @baysexuality , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @sunshinevirus , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl , @wickedval

Her mind constantly pulled her back to that night every time she looked at his face. The crushing feeling of disappointment was always present, no matter how much he smirked or tried to tease her, it was constantly there. Like an invisible mountain placed on top of her chest, constricting her lungs and preventing her from breathing properly, deception and betrayal made itself present within her whenever she came face to face with him.

His hands were tucked inside the pouch pocket of his gray hooded sweatshirt, undoubtedly hiding the fresh bruises on his knuckles. The New York harsh winter wind hit her face the minute she stepped out on the street, it blew her hair on her cheeks as she pulled the cream-colored woolen cap further down her ears.

Her attentive eyes did not miss the way the corner of his mouth lifted in a satisfied smirk when his eyes landed on her face. He seemed so relaxed, almost at home, leaning back against the streetlight that faced the front door of the building she worked in. So much so that he seemed out of place there, his relaxed posture was a loud contrast to the hurriedness of New York, he was like a curved edge puzzle piece amid straight-cornered ones. He didn’t fit in the most beautiful way, *yet it was that very same beauty that fucked me up*, she thought to herself as she reached the last step of the concrete stairs and was now facing him.

“What are you doing here, Tyler?” Her voice held that impatient tone he was already so used to, and the familiarity made his smirk turn into a full grin.

“Was just passing by” He shrugged casually

“Just passing by? And coincidentally enough you stopped in front of the building I work in. Sure, just a casual encounter” She huffed a bitter laugh as Tyler pushed himself off the streetlight to get closer to her “Don’t believe me?” He asks, containing himself to not touch her the way he dreamed of for the past two months, although he was trying, Tyler knew it was all a matter of time before he gave in to his body’s needs.

The loud noises of engines, honking and cursing filled up her ears, blocking anything Tyler said afterward. *Gosh, I hate rush hour!* Her thoughts were interrupted by Tyler’s hand on her cheek “You’re too cold” His purple knuckles brushed against her skin “You have lived in New York for the past three years and still don’t know how to properly dress yourself for winter?”.

She could hear the teasing tone beneath his words, and she couldn’t help but let a faint “Fuck off” fall out of her lips as he only chuckled in return, “C’mon, tiger. Let me buy you a hot chocolate to warm you up, I don’t want you to get sick”.

Her heart tightened with his offer. *And of course he remembers that I hate coffee! God, can he stop being so sweet so this is not so difficult every single time?!* She quickly stopped her thoughts before they could delve into a realm she does not wish to go back to.

“I won’t!” She sighed before stepping away from him. Distance, that’s exactly what she needs from him, otherwise she’ll make the huge mistake of forgiving him and her brain does not allow that, at least not now.

“A hot chocolate won’t solve shit, Tyler! It won’t change a damn thing”

“Tiger” He began, and the sound of her pet name coming from his lips had her gulping hard.

“Don’t” She shook her head and began to walk away from him. Tyler ran after her, closing his fingers around her wrist softly.

“Tiggy, please” Tyler’s gritty voice pleaded against her ear “It’ll be quick, I promise. We don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to”. He turned her around so she was now facing him again, “Please? You’ll freeze to death before you get to the subway”.

Tyler’s eyes held that raw honesty she loved, but sadly enough, it didn’t prevent him from keeping the truth away from her before she found out on her own about the street fights. The one thing Tyler knew she would never accept was his fighting career, the violence, and danger was too much for her to take and inevitably enough that was the reason why she left. She couldn’t live with both the disappointment the lie had brought to their lives and the fear of what this meant to them, to him. Fear of what could happen to him during one of those horrid, bloody fights. The mere thought of something bad happening to him because of it and her having no power whatsoever to stop it was enough to make her pack her bags and leave.

But she knew this is where they would end up, this back-and-forth bullshit that caused nothing but pain to the both of them. Tyler’s persistence is what made it all so difficult, his focus and determination made it impossible to ignore him, and she did not doubt that those very same personality traits were responsible for his fame in the underground world of street fighting.

“Why do you keep doing this, Ty? I told you to stay away-”

“But deep down you don’t want that, do you? I know you like no one else, tiger. I know you’re still as crazy about me, as I am about you.” Tyler’s hands cupped her cheeks again, only this time he brushed his lips against hers “I love you, tiggy. So fucking much. I’d do anything for you…I’d give everything to have you back”.

“This is wrong” She muttered more to herself than to him, but that didn’t stop Tyler from answering:

“No, it’s not. You want this and I want this too, so why shouldn’t we be together?” His fingertips caressed the sides of her neck, drawing a pattern of small circles on her skin. “Don’t you miss me? Not even a little bit? Because I sure as hell miss you, tiggy”.

She felt her breath hitching in her throat with the feeling of Tyler’s tongue tentatively tracing her bottom lip, tasting her skin with a satisfied groan. Her hands naturally roamed up his arms, until they stopped at the nape of his neck, fingers fumbling with the shorter dirty blonde strands she could reach.

“Come home with me” Tyler’s whispering voice caressed her wet lips, the pleading tone in his voice made her heart clench in her chest.

“Ty…it’s not that simple”

“Yes, it is!” He started with a clenched jaw, brown eyes staring deeply at her as if to make sure she saw the truth in his eyes “I love you, tiger. And I regret every single day for hiding the street fights from you-”

She pulled back abruptly, needing to settle some space between them before she gave in to him “You lied, Ty! You did the one thing you promised me you wouldn’t do”

“Yeah, I omitted it, but I didn’t have another choice! Be honest to yourself for once, tiger. Would you have reacted any differently if I had told you the truth from the beginning? No! You would’ve left either way, so can you blame me for omitting shit when I knew that if I told you the truth you would’ve left me?”

Tyler tugged on her winter coat, I’m pulling her closer to his body to both shield her from the harsh wind and have her pressed against him. He had a point and she knew it, she would never have dealt with the subject well, not even if he had told her the truth from the start. It would still lead them here, to the front of this building, arguing over their feelings and actions.

“I was madly in love with you, and you know that I still am” Tyler’s warm hands cupped her full cheeks, she was always impressed by his warmth, how could anyone be so warm even after standing outside in New York’s winter for several minutes?

“I don’t want to lose you, tiggy” His lips brushed against her lips, lightly pecking the corner of her mouth he continued to murmur “Please, just come home with me. Let’s talk this through, I know we can find a middle ground to this”.

Tyler never pleaded with anyone, but this was desperation in its final stages. It was brutal on his soul to come home every night to an empty apartment, and even though it has been 10 months since she left, the pillows still smelled like her, he could still hear her laughs and moans throughout the small apartment, could still see her drunk self singing ‘The Phantom Of The Opera’ while sitting on the kitchen floor because ‘it has a great acoustic there’, he still felt her body pressing against his every night when he lays down in bed.

She wanted this, badly. A part of her always regretted ever leaving in the first place, but she was prideful and too rational to let her emotions get the best of her. Tyler knew that, being equally stubborn and prideful he would never let his feelings get in the way of anything but this was different. This is that type of love that’s able to change you completely, the one where you can’t do anything but feel, and all the things you once promised yourself you’d never do, simply don’t matter anymore. Again, Tyler never begged anything from anyone, yet here he is.

“Are you coming?” Tyler asked, fingers lacing with hers, trying to grasp every chance he had to touch her. “Come back home with me, tiggy”.

*There it is* She thought *The only thing that will always make me forgive him*, the mix of vulnerability, love, and pleading would always give Tyler an immense advantage that she could never have. This would forever be the cause of her ruin, the crumbled pathway back to her heart.

“Fine” She bluntly answered. Tyler was having a hard time controlling his excited smile and upon seeing it she quickly added “Just for a talk, Tyler. The only reason why I’m agreeing to this is because we need to settle this like adults and because it’s fucking freezing out here!”

“Sure, sure” He smiled widely before lacing their fingers together as he took her back to his motorcycle. “Whatever you say, tiggy,” Tyler said once she was settled in the back seat of his bike, he stole a quick peck from her lips before buckling the helmet chin strap for her. She gasped in shock as Tyler started the bike with a loud laugh.

The apartment looked the same as 10 months ago, Tyler hadn’t changed a thing. Everything was in the same spot as she had let them. Even the fall-themed couch blanket she loved so much was placed the identical way she always let it sit on top of the black couch.

“It was waiting for you” Tyler whispered in her ear, “Just like me”. He turned her around to face him, his hands cupped her cold cheeks as he leaned down to kiss her lips.

Tyler’s lips were warm and welcoming, his tongue danced around hers in the most beautiful ‘welcome home’ kiss. “I missed you so fucking much, tiger” His arms closed around her, holding her in place in the tightest bear hug he could give her without breaking her ribs.

“I missed you too, bud” She smiled against his lips, laying a soft peck on his delicate lips as she continued “I’m still upset that you hid the fights from me though”, her lips silenced Tyler before he could protest, “But” She starts again “I understand why you did it. Just promise me two things, please”

“Anything” Tyler quickly nodded

“Firstly, you won’t hide things from me again and secondly, I know how much you love the fights and whatever comes with it. I could never ask you to drop it but please, Ty, at least try to start a professional career in fighting or, I don’t know, get into fights that are somewhat safe enough to not get you killed. I can’t stand the thought of something bad happening to you because some asshole decided to take it personally. At least in a more controlled environment, they’ll stop whoever it is that you’re facing if they take it too far”

Tyler couldn’t hold back his happy grin “Consider it done, tiggy”, he states proudly, burning his face on the crook of her neck and inhaling the scent he had missed the most in the last 10 painful months.

“Now, if I remember correctly, you promised me a hot chocolate, Mr.” She giggled when Tyler’s warm breath tickled the sensitive skin below her ear.

“Oh, tiger. I’ll give you your hot chocolate. But first” He gently pushed her back on the couch until she laid flat against the velvety cushions, “I’ll give you some warm milk” Tyler smirked once she realized his pun.

“Ewww, that sounds like something a perv trucker would say” She chuckled loudly when Tyler cupped himself through the baggy jeans “Are you thirsty for some milk, Miss?” He teased until she burst out laughing.

“I already regret forgiving you” She cackled as he covered her body with his.

“I’ll make you change your mind, tiggy” Tyler winked before unzipping her winter coat.

[devinetheory-2]

POETRY ISNT ALWAYS PRETTY

I didn't call because

I didnt want you to hear

the sadness in my tone

I can't let you see the madness

In my mind

As I try

to accept

the fact that

I

Am

Alone

But I won't go back

to a

bro

ke

n ho

me

I can't come over because

I cant let you smell

the bar and the cologne

All on my clothes.

The women I had with me

the night before

When you had supposedly

broken Your phone

But still

I had to hear your voice

You made your choice

But I cant move on

As try to allign myself

With the idea

That this is real.

Smoke, drink and fk the pain away

Until the memory of her face

Fades from my horizon

And my mind

is completely thrown

And made insane this way

forgets the lies and

My body is paralyzed

With your level of toxicity

Admittedly

I am not very good

with this grief

Or these memories

Searching desperately for symmetry

Trying hard not

to remember our stars

Lest the sadness within

Cripple me

Like how we would always

be together

Like a pair of dice

Or you were my puzzle

And I was your missing piece

Forever searching for paradice

A paradox behind a pair of eyes

And you've likely ended my life

When you took yours

And I'm not sure I can compare a time

Where I didnt swear Im fine

I am an unspoken paradigm

Praying that prayer of mine

Hoping that that theres a sign

A direction I can take

With someone that can relate

To elevate my mental state

To a place I can repair my mind

Always threatened

to do more

Would it be you

Wondering what did I ever

fuck with you for

Stealing food from grocery stores

To provide you more

Of what you couldnt afford

Honesty on a severe decline

And always so rare to find

Pushing through the storm

Anything to keep you warm

Remove the sheath from my sword

As I sleep in that 2 door ford

You want more

You gotta do more for it

Feeling like Hugh Jackman

In that movie swordfish

And I've been letting someone live

rent free in my mind

that can't really afford the mortgage

And I'm trying to evict

But since buying the lies

I really don't have any

money left this time

to take you to court or go to war with

Holding you accountable

just resorts to more shit

and your so called friends

can't seem to see you transform

Until you go to war or forfeit

And these whores support it

Meanwhile I'm Confused

as his muse ignores him

And I choose to light that fuse

And use to get more lit

And I take over

the natural order of things

And try to force shit

As a result my views are morbid

And I see death as the only thing

that soothes the war

But the warrior inside

Refuses to lose

I avoid the noose

Take another sip

from my bottle

of poisoned and poor choices

I let destroy him

- Devine Theory

[madnesswithmadhu]

WOTFI 2024 SPOILERS!!!

CHAT I TRIED LIVE BLOGGING BUT I GOT WAY TO CAUGHT UP OMG

THE SONGS??? THE ANIMATION??? THEY FUCKING ATE BRO OMG THIS YEAR WAS SO MUCH FUN ICH LIEBE!!!!!

ALSO PUZZLES TRYING TO PULL A "IM A CHANGED MAN" ON THE SMG4 CREW AND GETTING HIS ASS BEAT IS SO FUNNY OMD

BUT I HAVE A FEELING... A TINY LITTLE FEELING THAT NEXT WEEK... SHIT IS GONNA HIT THE FAN PRETTY FAST GIVEN THOSE TRAILER SCENES THAT NEVER HAPPEND... OR STILL HAVE TO..

ALSO THIS IS THE CYRRENT STATE OF MY BINGO CARD MADE BY @midnight1nk!!

I DONT THINK ANYONE HAS BINGO??? BUT IDK MAYBE I MISSED A FEW

[gonermaker-ocpicrew]

whatever. go my semi-live commentary as recorded on notepad

6/4 8:38 am. i feel like a kid on xmas morning. lets go-

11:06 taking a short break. i still cant believe this shit is real even though i'd been in the fanon boiler for less than a year. also transphobic deltarune fans found dead by suicide after seeing kris' outfit in the cooking game. their fit was so cool i lost like 12 times out of distraction and DEFINITELY not a skillet issue. fat butch tenna will always live in my heart but ive warmed up to the twink. one more thing before locking back in: 199X/200X setting truthers are DEAD considering the way tv keeps getting talked about🎉

11:51 how the fuck do i do the stupid 6 screen puzzle. nvm 1225

12:51 pm things got kinda sloggy from the puzzle i whined about above but picked up during the rouxls fight. despite what you'd think of a character like him rouxls makes the game like 10% funnier. also atp lanino and elnina as a strong toriel/asgore parallel would be Weird so i hope that isn't a hill the fandom is going to die on

1:16 i made the mistake of glancing at reddit to see whether this chapter even has a secret boss and got a potential spoiler. logging back on now

2:19 been procrastinating playing again because im pretty sure ive progressed too far for the secret boss and my other saves aren't great.

2:42 im so lost dude.

5:07 i decide to replace that save with a post-round one save. now im post-round 2 trying to get s-rank so i can get the secret boss. i have the points to buy it though so that's plan b. back to suffering!

6:01 waow im at RANK B in the stupid cooking game!

7:26 the guy selling s-rank or whatever isn't here anymore. i suck way too hard at both of these minigames to get it on my own.

7:46 goodbye. will probably reset yet again

I'M GOING TO HAVE TO START FROM THE BEGINNING

11:07 so i started from the top, scraped together enough points to buy the s, and explored that room. ofc i was then brought to that game room thing and it checked enough secret boss flags for me to keep going. i just played the minigame intuitively; it roughly went from "hmm maybe toby wanted to play jrpg violence straight for one small second?" > "ohhh god no mercy route parallels galore. maybe this is a half fakeout where it's not what it seems but is still serious ie kris at the end of ch1?" > end the game with finding the ice thingy > "oh this is like the ol speculation about us playing dragon blazers in universe. wonder where this is headed :)" > talk to the british plugboy and Realize > go back into the game room to see if i missed anything > check kris in the menu > Fully Realize

so that's where i am as of typing this. i haven't saved yet. i'm torn on saving to my designated weird route slot and then exiting/reloading my untouched pacifist save or stupidly deciding this in fact has no real negative consequences and google whether this is secret boss-related. i'm gonna look around just a little more before deciding but im leaning towards option one.

checked the room and nothing special really happened. i saved over my wr slot. anyway it's too late to think too hard about my next move in this game. unless the boredom gets the better of me im going to bed now. 11:27 pm

6/5 2:30 pm so the thing about jumping off the face of the internet was an exaggeration; i'm in and have been regularly checking a deltarune watch party server. with the help of someone in there i figured out i was right the first time about it just being a secret boss thing + how to fully trigger it all. i also realized i turned my ch3 weird route slot into a pacifist save with a partly completed sidequest on it so it's time to copy and then erase. i also accidentally exposed myself to a spoiler juicy yet vague enough to further intrigue me. more on that later.

3:17 I NEED TO RESET A THIRD FUCKING TIME. WHY DID I SAVE RIGHT THEN.

5:56 ok i did the game thing twice. the advice i got was slightly unclear so now im just going through what i assume to be the castle equivalent segment without saving and assuming i have to go back there via the Door before what i also assume to be a proper tenna fight

6:22 i think i did it for real this time. i saved.

7:03 THIS SHTI IS NOT REAL WHAT

7:15 i'll try again later. just wow.

10:41 finally beat them. looks like jevil's simplicity as a character is only going to get funnier in hindsight with how fucked up THIS one was. also i have analytical Thoughts on this that are just bubbling in my head

"i was not very chuffed by that dart" we need to kill toby fox NOW

would tenna be pissed off if he found out his whole act is half-recycled from that of some rando lightner in another universe

being nice about tenna time is over; if he gets twice the fandom hype queen did (which he will) i am going to start killing you misogynist fucks. anyway i'm tired 11:19 pm p.s: is kris knight officially dead? soo the light-yet-juicy spoiler i got earlier was where i saw someone casually mention "the knight" in the context of something that happens at the end of the chapter. the way they phrased it made it unlikely to me that kris was sposed to be them and the secret boss gave me and even clearer Idea but a part of me still went "maybe the game and/or that person is being kind of roundabout about it?" oh well i'll find out in the morning. p.p.s: i just remembered my queued posts about that very topic started publishing this evening. :)

6/6 12:24 pm both spamton and tenna want mettaton's tboy swag sooooo bad

12:51 this fucking thing is either a) a titan b) a secret third thing) c) DESS KNIGHTTTTTTT in that order of likelihood

12:59 finished chapter 3. also im checking my blog and why aren't any of my kright posts publishing. if i need to sign in to main tumblr i swear to fucking god. ok i forgot that i scheduled them for FRIDAY evening

1:09 it's almost like we're in some kind of Under Tale…

1:11 lmao kris Really wants you to know that ralsei doesn't look like asriel

1:18 catty cattenheimer

2:24 just hopped on after taking an unrecorded break. the face of cartoonish disgust i made when asgore popped out

8:53 im back :3 checking out castle town rn

8:55 "kingy-doodle" has every deltarune big bad fucked the other at some point

"hit me." did susie have to explain this one to ralsei offscreen so he wouldn't 🗡️FIGHT her with a hilariously concerned look on his face

(about the upstairs castle town npcs' computers with the red heart symbols and them saying they're trying online dating) you all want me soooo bad

(about the hat rack npc losing ralsei's hat forever) HAT RALSEI INSISTERS LOSTT LETS GO

thinking about what seam as well as someone in the server said. i think im gonna eventually dedicate my designated wr slot to trying to beat the knight

i've cried at ch3-4 once or twice and wanted to cry a few more times. this text triggered by checking the mirror with susie following you has counted towards the latter

METTATON TRANSGENDER AWAKENING IN REAL TIME. also im 50/50 on this being the authorial intent but the idea of tenna taking one look at mtt and going "yeah this is an egg time to crack him" is so funny

10:36 yet another unlogged break but the respective trans awakenings for like, mettaton vs the lioness dress/waitress npc is a good representation of the yin-yang way undertale and deltarune interact with each other

"(about the pic of noelle in goth makeup) catti wanted a custom cover for her cd" yk that face of disgust i made at asgore earlier? imagine that again but out of HOMOPHOBIA🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

i'm starting to feel weird again so good night 11:15 pm ps: i just scrolled ONE REPLY IN on toby's hotfix post and some dipshit mentioned the original starwalker turned into stone. if the roaring happens in this chapter i will find that unfunny motherfucker's location 6/7 11:27 am today, we will delta that rune. isn't that right, pluey?

ok so the Berdly Newsletter Dialogue wasn't optional but it wasn't actually directed at kris either. im sorry to do this to you kris but it's for science (❤️Go with Berdly)

fellow himejoshi we need to start hating on berdly for "getting in the way of" suselle. we need to level the playing table

WHITE WOMAN JUMPSCARE

temmie put her whole temussy into this dark world dude

taking a break 12:49 pm

when you get to the dark world but it's chinese 1:46

"you are filled with the power of not reading the text" do i even have to say it

i've already died like twice to this pumpkin fuck

saved not too long after beating him and took a break but im back 4:12

5:18 piles of gersons dusttt

the philosophers' dialogue is giving old jrpg npc

the war flashbacks i got when ralsei started insisting he could do everything for susie and kris

adds another tally to the deltarune cry count

"[susie is] supposed to equip the ribbons" REALLY? SUSIE'S BUTCH SWAG AND NARRATIVE DEFIANCE IS OFF THE CHARTS

FUCK this climbing gimmick. time to whip out the old cheat engine

"PURIFIED"????

*everyone is behind you.

ch4 finished 7:40 pm 6/7/2025. still have a few more secrets to cover and story to mentally take in before abandoning grass though

(2 or so hours later) i can currently manage a little sliver of the knight's hp with optimized healing items and speedhack 0.5. wait the devil works hard but deltarune fans, particularly the ones running the spamton save editor, work harder

11:22 pm ok the previous setup was actually easier. i refuse to make my base defense even higher (currently 20 for each) so speedhack + file editing it is i guess

6/8 2:56 am after a good amount of cheating i finally beat them. honestly i don't have the patience to see what this prompts in ch4 so WEIRD ROUTE TOMORROW. not looking forward to having to go through chapter 3 on that slot though ughh

1:11 pm i rushed through the last of ch3 and now im weirding out on ch4. "maybe things took a weird route right now" it's almost like they're in some king of snowgrave…

IT'S ALMOST LIKE

taking a break 2:01 pm

4:54 ok fuck this. i'll get spoilered for the end of the weird route and the ch4 secret boss and the morbillion obscure secrets idc anymore.

[persnicketypansy]

I’m trying to write a poem but I can’t get it to go right. I keep writing lines like

I make myself tea/tomorrow my sister/dead dog in the driveway/depression is

A cicada is trying to kill itself against the window glass of my kitchen - which isn’t a metaphor but it sure as hell sounds like one. I’m trying to write about depression and how it’s a cold room with a single warm spot on the floorboards. That’s not right, though. My poetry instructor would say i was unfocused, distracted (by the cicada, if I’m being honest) or at least probably if I’d ever had an instructor that’s what they would say.

poetry has always been about the smallest amount of words to create the biggest, brightest picture. It’s always been a way to put a feeling into words - look, it’s a river I’m pouring into your hands. Do you get it yet?

In the simplest words, the fewest lines, the rawest sketch of an image, imagine me young and sad. Now imagine me now, older and happy. Now pretend that the two images are exactly the same. Did I move forward or did everything else just move away from me? Bead on a string, is the bead moving or is the string? But how do you write that out? How do you make it something digestible?

The cicada is very loud. Bugs skeeve me out.

when I was young I thought happiness was bigger than the sky (do you get it? how big the sky was to me when I was seven years old? the sky was an ancient whale going to swallow me out of the wildflowers. what did that make happiness?)

young went away. now only I remain (I don’t know what to make of this; i shed my youth like a skin. a cicada shell, if you will, now that the thing outside in the dark has finished its fitful dying)

when young had me, I was sad. These things were not connected, except by knots I tied (i wasn’t sad because i was young; young was a well i dug to hold all the sad I already had)

but the sadness went with the child. they live together in the hollow green garden (where the birds sing, you remember the poem about lost children? child me wrote it on her arms and legs. she looked for birds to chase)

I drink tea (and somehow, even though my seven year old self will never believe it, this is happiness)

Idk tho. im still missing an important part of the puzzle. sadness leaves and there’s room for something else in your life suddenly. happiness sneaks up on you. happiness and sadness aren’t opposites (they’re yuri) not like in inside out, but like in a ‘happiness is a survival technique’ way. once you grow up you can’t be sad the same way a child is sad anymore, because you’ve got defense mechanisms in place

sometimes you miss the sadness, the way it just swallows all of you up, but then you make some tea and remember that child you would have killed to be where you are right now, and things are better. the whole (that was a dark time once) (this will be a dark time someday as well) things get better - not things get better, but things are better. child me was wrong about what I needed. what I have now is enough to get by. optimism?

is the point optimism? idk. something something, savor what fulfills you instead of trying to satisfy the ideals you came up with when you were young, because child you doesn’t know shit about a good cup of tea or a four hour conversation with a friend. you don’t owe your past self the satisfaction of all their unrealistic dreams.

child me wanted to get stolen by a bird

like. i don’t know. i’ll come back to this

[idcpxseur]

MORE random hcs that will potentially appear in my rewrite

not all of them are headcanons, some of them are lore drops that i decided to throw in for funsies

ive had this sitting in my drafts for so long

[ link to my last hcs post in case ya missed it ]

aphmau is obsessed with dating sims (this was inspired by me discovering blooming panic)

aphmau is a compulsive doodler. to the point where she keeps a little notepad in her bag so she doesnt draw on her hands

laurence is visually impaired/going blind

travis, garroth, and katelyn have all gotten their tongues stuck to frozen lightpoles in their lifetime

dante & travis are childhood friends and travis had a crush on dante in highschool

katelyn and lucinda met in middle school and have had a weird love/hate relationship since

cadenza, kiki, and zoey live in a neighborhood close to the main cast

nana goes by [kandi/honey/sugar] not kawaii chan (there was no way i was keeping that stupid nickname. havent picked which nickname shed go by)

aphmau loves dating sims and got katelyn and nana hooked on them too

nana is actually a magicks user just like in mcd

she uses her little maids to do her chores around the house (katelyn and aphmau hate her for it)

aphmau had a fnaf hyperfixation and infected the entire group with it

aside from nana, who hates anything even remotely spooky

during halloween on mystreet, aaron has dressed up as ghostface

everyone lost their minds

aside from aphmau and katelyn, who laughed at everyone losing their minds

nana actually has an intense fear of relationships which is why she obsesses over other people's relationships because she romanticizes them in her head

garroth, despite also being of the fruity variety, is the friend who buys anything rainbow and gives it to his gay friends

laurence has been and will continuously be the main victim of this

garroth also has no idea what a lot of the flags mean despite everyone reminding him

katelyn has bpd

and he frequently wears crop tops to show it off too

travis is a lil sleepy guy. if hes not doing something important, you can and often will find him curled up snzzing

and we love him for it

aaron is the friend that carries around shit for his friends

specific stim toys for specific people (chewables and clicky keyboards for aphmau, a puzzle ball for zane, soft weighted plushies for nana)

hes got a man purse /hj

aphmau has two long, jagged, faded lines on her back that she was born with. they look like were once deep scars

but theyve never went away and only seemed to have gotten bigger??

while not a big practicer of the craft, travis seems to be really good with witchcraft and magicks

no one knows what his magicks is though because both lucinda and nana have said it feels off

aphmau used to scare zane in a weird way. which is why (aside from just hating everyone and everything) he avoided her for so long before they got close

that fear is gone though

...mostly

travis has dressed up as spiderman for several halloweens in a row

aphmau and zane have gotten hyperfixated on beetlejuice together and dressed up as bj and lydia for halloween and cons

not at all inspired by myself and my best friend wdym

okay this hc list is even longer. i was supposed to be writing but i ended up... not doing that.

anyway thats enough for today!! sorry for my absence im focused on actually pushing out the fucking rewrite instead of just yapping about it

[varijeri]

god the FUCKED UP amount of shit that went down the past 10 days i dont even know what happened on which day (assume furniture stealing + waystone stealing + innumerable mines are also taking place) 1. eggs show up dirty and dishevelled. they don't remember the previous day 2. eggs disappear. their accessories are left on their beds 3. a lot of havoc is wreaked (bad tears shit up + tubbo creates mega drills + random holes and mines???) 4. forever gets drugged by cucurucho (he is Happy with capital H now (he is also going MAD) 5. pac gets himself drugged to make an antidote (it works because pac is awesome and a genius) 6. phil comes back (election tower is lavacast) 7. capybaras??? spawn is fucked up 8. fed workers start fixing up spawn (tubbo names the blue-capped one Fred) 9. phil, bad and cellbit manage to trap forever and pac and give them the antidote (pac recovers by the next day + forever enters a coma) -> forever hallucinates cucurucho and tells them cucurucho said "the eggs ran away from something worse than the federation and the codes" 10. fred discretely communicates with tubbo (a book in a hidden chest) 11. the next day roier, charlie and tubbo are grouped up to find something (sewers in the wall + ladder up to missa's base + huge maze (cellbit found a map for this maze with attached binary reading A1)) 12. they find evil cucurucho (cucurucho but with black skin and red eyes and smile) leading them to a room with a roulette wheel (I-VIII) in its center with the eggs' accessories scattered around it, encased in barrier blocks 13. tubbo glitches in and spins the wheel (rolls a 5 i think) -> lava starts falling from the ceiling (the pendejo trio have to GTFO while avoiding lava and mobs) 14. maze is sealed and fed posters are put up along with a countdown (egg accessories are now missing from their beds) 15. countdown ends after the mexican independence day event -> half the server enters the maze as it opens up. they find an archive room where a story about 12 eggs in a similar maze is written in a book. 2 eggs live at the end of the story. 16. they return to the room with the roulette wheel but its no longer there -> only chayanne's floatie remains 17. when everyone goes back phil finds a book in his basement that tells him to drop everything and haul ass to some random coords near uppies in the form of a story about a crow 18. phil does so and is trapped in a birdhouse by cucurucho with (seemingly a duplicate of) chayanne's floatie and tallulah's beanie. 19. bagi joins the server (forever wakes up) -> the players group up at the dome and a roulette wheel (yes, same wheel) shows up and is spun, spinning a 2 -> everyone is teleported into a forest surrounded by a glass dome with puzzles to solve -> after they solve the puzzles they free bagi from an underground area where she had been with walter bob 20. today. IS THIS EVERYTHING? DID I GET EVERYTHING?

edit: at 15. they also found an old conversation between two people about the eggs, and at 3. im pretty sure etoiles killed another code and got not only the full code sword but also a book telling him to "PROTECT"

[nicomrade]

my death games rated by survavibility

liar game - id survive it 100% i never open my mail

battle royale - better than normal school but id die.

kaiji - id survive minefield ive had special training & no friends so no cheating. all other kaiji gambles id die

dead word puzzle - i cant read hiragana. dead.

money game - stuck in a concrete corridor w people i dont know would trigger another delusional episode but since i wouldnt leave my room no one would murder me. i live w more debt than before.

as gods of death tell us - better than normal school but id die this one has a like 99.999% death rate come on

kakegurui - worse than normal school. id skip half the time and not gamble cuz i didnt have disposable money at 16. i survive but i dont pass my finals cuz japanese school is harder

arisa - better than normal school. id get peer pressured into following the kings rules but miss the social cue to follow the crowd so i de-facto disobey and die.

kings game - no one in class has my number so they kill me first so i dont ruin the game. dead.

akagi - if the DS game is any indicator id die

usogui - in kajis place id survive cuz we have the same problems in bakus place id die.

gamble fish - same as kakegurui but i would kill myself when faced w cum fish obama mahjong

gantz - well u die before joining gantz but once in it id drop some cryptic clues so the other ones have to bring me back when i re-die and keep doin this til the gantz ball breaks down.

mirai nikki - the only diary-like things i keep are my mahjong notebook and my death game gdoc... counterintuitively thats not gonna help me survive. i die but i kill the yandere w hammers before

tomodachi game - i read everything this one rips off so i think i could survive.

999 - based on my 1st playthrough i survive through gay lust alone and then get knocked out- fate unclear.

virtues last reward - i side w dio in a show of communist solidarity and they leave me to die on the moon

danganronpa - better than normal school. i dont kill anyone, no one kills me cuz im locked in my room. i survive carried by the majoritys vote. i graduate and marry a beautiful woman. the end.

crimson labyrinth - id genuinely believe were on mars, never find my way to the 1st meeting point, fuck up the whole game & die.

squid game - i hate P.E. i die

in the room - sorry for trapping everyone in my cptsd nightmare. i die.

subterano - i dont urinate in underground parking lots. i live

saw - "you claim you have photosensitive migraines but you purposefully stare at a screen for 10+ hours a day!!" yeah yeah wheres adam at. i die

togainu on chi - rip to akira but if MY childhood best friend confessed he was in yaoi love with me id simply tell him i like him back. and wed have yaoi sex in yaoi town. but sadly im the gay narcolecptic unstable puppy in this situation, i die.

zero - i can do math but not without a calculator and i dont know shit about geography or japanese. but zero would become friends with me somehow and i survive :)

spiral: bonds of reasonning - this ones pretty specific to like 2 blood lines so i dont think id even be allowed in this one. better than normal school cuz the bombing threat means its closed for the rest of hte year and we all pass our exams. YIPEE

di[e]ce - i think eveyrone who wasnt one of the main pieces died in that opening scene but id be such a good yaoi chess pawn i think i can survive.

death race 2000 - i ask frankiestein for an autograph and i get run over by the gay little hater joe. i die

[look-mom-percys-on-the-tv]

Ep 5 reactions

spoilers beneath the cut for s1e5 and minor spoilers for most of the books, but I censored the traitor's name. mostly positive tone.

ANNABETH SAW THE FUCKING FATES

"Im the last one to realize this aren't I" A LITTLE BIT

I love Percy admitting there he was really ONLY in it for Sally. Poseidon does ONE good thing and all of a sudden it's "wait I think the conspiracy to start war betten the gods is... important?" SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU MEET REASONABLE PARENTING EXPECTATIONS? A certain god could be taking notes, specifically the patent of [REDACTED]

go off Percy with the emotional intelligence. A for effort

and an A PLUS to Annabeth for the sharing important info and being vulnerable.

I see that coat covering the bike seat. there's human skin on that thing, isn't there?

LIVING the portrayal of Ares as man-baby who starts twitter fights. average maturity level of anyone who likes war.

"there's no fear in you, is there?" STAWPPP

THEY KEPT THE MANHUNT PLOT🎉🎉🎉🎉 also the Gabe is Gabe-ing. Manipulate mansplain manwhore on the most literal level. except disney probably cut the womanizer bit.

the whole "Im immature as shit but my threats are real, I hold all the cards" THE GOD OF WAR IS GODOFWAR-ING

"can I walk them to the door" IS HE GONNA RUN FOR IT? they're really letting Grover miss out on this quest, huh? I mean I guess it makes sense. PLUS it means more Grover-exclusive scenes! MY BOYY

that's a lie. there HAVE to be corny movie nights at camp, right?

ALSO botl movie date, anyone?👀👀👀👀

is that? a JOKE I HEAR??? poking fun at Percy? a little. Genuine? ALSO TRUE. If you told me that "amusing" line was Liften from the book and I've just forgotten about it all five million times I read it, I WOULD BELIEVE YOU

Annabeth who complimented Circe's loom when Percy got cursed🤝 Annabeth who complimented Hepheastus when Percy got trapped

the way she says push before telling him what it is😭😭😭

WE'VE MET BEFORE. I'M 24. A FAN!? GROVER WHAT ARE YOU PLAYING AT

songs about feelings that was PERSONAL

*insert Coach Hedge talking about nature*

Annabeth asking what Ares need the kids for if he wants the bolt/thinks their quest means nothing🤝 Grover gaslight girlbossing : doing detective work under Percy's nose

OOOH good detail with Percy being caught up with all the "3000 year-old goss" because HIS MOTHER TOLD HIM hi sally i fuckign love u

"don't even try to tell me not to be weird about this" we love an honest queen. While I kinda miss book Annabeth being a bit stompy and whiny at this part, I do think that the show version suits its own characterization of Annabeth, saying whatever she thinks needs to be said.

this whole show, I've been able to see everything. episode five DO NOT be the one to let me down! PLEASE!

THE SONG omg i wasnt expecting that. miraculous movie flashbacks fr.

W CONVO. DOUBLEYOU CONVO. nothing to add. perfection.

Also. don't shoot but the song choice unironically fits Hephaestus's story.

SWIMMING

is that a giant gold naked statue of Hera? to taunt them for cheating on him? hypocrite.

"they like to ignore what doesn't fit their narrative" [REDACTED] APOLOGISTS TAKE NOTES.

also, SMOOTH AF

okay there's no way Annabeth doesn't know that story. there's ONE way to take a god's power and she doesn't know it? at least let them tell it in tandem! a little "Yeah I recognize the chair, what of it?" THEN let the touchy-feely boy present the bargain. AT LEAST.

SHE'S NOT LEAVING WITHOUT HIM

"do you need some help?" "FUCK OFF" that's Annabeth

in the one hand, I am not a fan of depriving Annabeth of her super wisdom hero moment. on the other hand, placing responsibility to fix things on the perpetrators instead of those kids from Season ONE queen shit, and showing people can change. slay, but PLEASE let Annabeth do some more puzzle shit!

THE SHIELD LOOKS SO BIG IN HER HANDS

THESE FUCKIGN TWELMVE YEAR OLDS

OH so [REDACTED] and Ares conspired to make sure the trio never makes it there, not just using the magic things that activate at a certain place, but also by DIRECTING THEM TO THE TIME FREEZE ON PURPOSE

TO SUMMON WHAT

that interaction. SO THEM

YOU KNOW WHO WHATTED THE WHAT