#it’ll gut me like a fish

[solar-eclipsed]

I have normal thoughts about Sanji and blood don’t look at my discord messages about his nosebleed gag and his distorted view on love. Don’t do it.

[were-changing-cake-vaults]

Gem would like to pretend that things are normal around Magic Mountain.

Or, well, that everyone else is normal, and she’s keeping all the weirdness to herself. She’s the one who decided to go a little creepy this season, after all, and as far as she can tell, she’s the only one smelling the rot coming from the river. All her neighbors should be fine, and have only commented that her boat burns a lot of coal fumes that sort of reek. It’s definitely not rot, and things are normal for them, and they are decidedly abnormal for her.

Which is fine! Gem wants her friends safe! Sure, she’s been hearing weird gurgling noises from the flooded caves that line the beaches, but she’s probably just hallucinating. Or maybe Scar is smacking salmon heads on note blocks again, despite living on the other side of the mountain. And sure, Impulse died and came back completely washed of color, but that’s just a demise thing. It’s just the creepy she dragged along with her- Joel’s totally fine, and that’s enough evidence for her.

Well, it would be if not for the fact that the salmon she’s been getting from fishing are starting to look…strange, all sharp-finned and much slimier than normal. And the cod, too, have far too many gills, like gashes down their sides. Grian pulls up a fish one afternoon and Gem swears it’s got six eyes, but Grian only remarks them as “weird patterning” and shoves it right into the furnace for cooking.

He’s been eating a lot of fish, recently, straight from this very river, the one that smells of rot. Caught them all himself. He’s also been fishing a lot- Gem doesn’t know the last time he worked on his base. He keeps trying to dredge up a book. She asks him one day why he keeps going if he’s already got a ton of books from the water, and he sounds haggard when he replies:

“The book, Gem. I’m not looking for a book. I’m looking for the book. It’ll give me all the answers I need. I haven’t found it yet, but the ocean will provide for me. I know it’s the next one.”

Something in the way he looks at her makes her gut twist. His eyes are empty, glossed over, and she knows the joke is that he looks like a cod, but it’s- he’s different, now, washed out and shiny skin, little to no meat on his bones, bags like pits under his soulless eyes. Something about the way he phrased that—the ocean will provide for me—makes her spine recoil back, feet dragged backwards towards her boat. A fear-stricken laugh bubbles up Gem throat as she tries to remember the last time he wasn’t fishing. When was the last time he slept?

Come to think of it, when was the last time she slept? Isn’t there a warning for those who stay up too late?

And when she tells him it’s an addiction, Grian just laughs it off, throws his rod into the sea, and pats the seat next to him. And then there she is, fishing alongside him, like she was always doing. She was planning to do this, yes. More and more of Magic Mountain arrives, plus Etho, who brings along a disc to put them in the mood. It’s a swan song.

The ocean sings back. It gives her an image of a great tall lighthouse, cherished by watery angels, who dance around it. It gives her the size, the colors, the materials to recreate it in verse. She smiles. It tells them all to knock another hermit off the list of survivors. She grins.

Before turning to join the group on their quest, Gem looks into the water one last time. Staring back is a well-kept woman with long, shiny red hair.

There is a book in her hand.

[maxlarens]

⭐️ - Max - prompt: I will ease your mind (from bridge over troubled water) please thank you 🫶🏻 ily darling

You’re fine. It’s Friday. You’re fine.

You’ve got an afternoon and two whole days of being able to pretend your job doesn’t exist. To bury your work phone at the bottom of your handbag and only fish it out Monday morning. To get the tube home, go straight to bed and fall asleep without dinner—

fuck. Shit.

You’re meant to be getting dinner with Max.

That’s why you wore the cute (but still work appropriate) outfit today. The slightly nicer shoes. Your hair is even done. But you’re already on public transport going the opposite way to where dinner is supposed to be. You’re exhausted, you’re sinking into the seat like it’ll swallow you whole. Like if you try hard enough you could teleport straight to your bed.

You sigh, you fish your (non-work) phone out of your bag.

It only rings once before Max has already picked up.

“Schat,” he breathes, worried, like something might have happened to you, “What is it?”

You’re shaking your head, “Nothing. Nothing. Except I got on the tube home, instead of to dinner. It’s— hmm— it’s been a long day. To say the least.”

You hear a noise from him, a contemplative hum, the scrape of a chair, “Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“I—”, you frown glancing at a map of the stops, trying to puzzle through your memory, “Like halfway to my apartment… I dunno though, Maxie. I’m wiped. I won’t be any fun at dinner.”

You hear footsteps echoing, “You don’t have to be fun for me”, then, “Get off the train, schat. I’ll take you home.”

You hum, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I’m already in my car.”

Max picks you up on the side of the road by the train station ten minutes later. You slide into the passenger seat of his car, lean over the dash and kiss him. He mumbles a sweet hello against your mouth, his hand hovering at your jaw, drifting into your hair. After the kiss is finished you press your forehead into his cheek and sigh. A prolonged tired thing.

“Work bad?”, he asks, hand gently cradling the back of your neck now.

“Awful,” you breathe, “So bad.”

“Mm,” he strokes the skin on your neck, “Let me take you home, liefje. We’ll order your favourite.”

“Please,” you murmur, “Can we watch Tangled too?”

Max snickers a little into your hair, “Whatever you want.”

You pull yourself from his grip, kissing his cheek before settling into the passenger seat. It’s not a long drive home, but as it goes on you feel the exhaustion sinking deep into your bones. The work day wearing on you even more now that it’s over. Max can see it on you, the way your thoughts are still fumbling through the issues of the day, the things you’ll have to deal with come Monday.

You’re distracted on the elevator ride to your floor, while you fish your keys from your bag, even as you flick the lights on by the door and set your bag on the kitchen counter. Max trails behind you, crowding you in the kitchen. He puts his arms around you, puts his nose into your shoulder. Kisses the junction of your neck.

“You should quit,” he says, quiet, low— you feel something skitter down into your gut as you lean back into him, “Move in with me and the cats. They love you.”

“Yeah,” you say, fishing for something else, “Do they?”

“Of course, schat,” his breath fans against your ear, “and so do I.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

ohhhhh to have someone tell u to quit your job so they can take care of u. anyway i hope this is kinda what u had in mind🥰 also tangled like is the ultimate comfort movie for me

send me a prompt/request + a driver and i’ll write a drabble. pls check my requests are open first💖

[jolalibrary]

home and the ghost mug

simon “ghost” riley x reader (cod)

this is unedited, and born from a random thought as I put away dishes and cleaned my kitchen at 1am. warnings: none. themes: fluff, cute mug moment, ghost and a non-military partner. just toothrotting 1am thoughts.

you don’t like to think you live alone, but you know you spend more time waiting, than you have with him.

this time it’s been months. the last contact weeks ago. it’s normal, but it doesn’t lessen the frustration you feel—or how it balls and clumps with worry.

you know you signed on to this. married yourself to the wondering and standing by when you bought the house with him. it’s why you’ve perfected the art of keeping busy, remaining distracted.

today, your mind slips. falls down on the job, scrapes the skin from your knees and bruises your heart. thoughts appearing, the faint sound of his gruff voice echoing in the walls. unable to unsee the shadow of his last time here—how broad he appears in your door frames.

it’s the slip up that means you unconsciously make a tea for yourself in his mug. a no-go, a thing you never do. the cup sacred, forever off limits unless he’s here. the one you’d bought as a joke, wrapped it in paper and watched him stare at it when he unveiled the skull on the side with the bone handle.

“this bought for me?”

“well, it’s not for next door, simon.”

suddenly, you don’t fancy tea. your heart aching, all heavy and downtrodden in your chest. so you pour it away, washing it out and putting it away quickly. because you know it’ll sting seeing it on the drainer in the morning. practically punch you in the gut—because your mind will trick itself into thinking he’s home. that he’s back. for whatever time he can spare.

by the time his car pulls onto the drive, the house is coated in darkness. the moon full, high in the sky. shimmering a luminescent glow on everything and anything it can touch.

you must be tired, shattered. no murmur of his name or quickened footsteps when he slides his key on the lock, when he takes his boots off. he does do it with precision, care—almost mouse like for a man that’s more mountain than man. shoving them away in the contraption you bought sometime between the two of you moving in and him coming back to you.

and because the house is quiet, silent. a pin being dropped sounding like a shout, he begins his routine. the one where he shoves the things away he doesn’t need to have. not needing reminders of what he does as ghost when he’s trying to focus on being simon.

his routine concludes with a shower in the downstairs guest bathroom, watching the places he’s just been slide down the plug hole, all out of sight, out of mind. you know this routine, keeping some of his casual clothes—sweats and tees in a drawer, for moments like this.

even if he should expect it by now, he still smiles as your genuineness. your kindness. the one that comes ti you with ease.

it’s why he craves being next to you, being able to hear your breaths—close his eyes and allow the evidence to bury the niggling worries he amasses when he’s not with you.

but, joining you isn’t possible. discovering you star-fished, snoring lightly—one of his t-shirts covering and concealing you. practically burying you. and so he closes the door, heads back downstairs. running a hand over the back of his head, feeling clumps of long and short hair from his bad diy cut you’ll undoubtedly have things to say about.

but it isn’t until he’s walking past the kitchen, does he notice the mug and glass cupboard ajar. a thought appearing, his hand retrieving his mug and placing it on the side. a sign, he hopes—a bold exclamation that he is home, in case you wake before him.

you don’t wake before him. simon and fucked up body clock, as usual, wakes at the first break of sunlight. only rising from the guest bed when he hears the floorboards above. your feet eventually coming down the staircase, all slow and heavy, his mind imagining you rubbing your eyes, softly sighing at another day.

he waits in the doorway—the one connecting the guest bedroom to the kitchen—watching you come to a standstill, eyes blinking as you stare at the mug.

simon doesn’t know the error you made yesterday, that you’re going through a crisis of whether you’d put it away or not. whether you’d lost your mind from missing him so much.

he just knows you’re not reacting. not whispering, never mind shouting his name. so he clears his throat, loud, purposeful.

and your head spins—he’s even pretty sure he hears it crack—and then the reaction he expected lands.

it erupts over your face. an explosion of confusion and joy, tear-filled eyes and a large smile, before you’re in his arms, face buried against his chest as he feels you shake with sobs he hopes are because you’re happy.

“take it you’re happy i’m home?”

“more than you think.”

his chin comes to rest on the top of your head, fingers stroking up and down your back.

the mug becomes a sign, a beacon.

it only ever used to indicate he was home—a trophy that remains on the side, until he gets the call that he has to go.

then he is the one to put it away, hating how he turns to always find your lips being chewed by your teeth.

“it’ll be back out before you know it.”

“it better be.”

simon doesn’t promise. because he knows—as do you—that there’s none he can keep in the games he plays. he comforts you without words, his mouth slanted over yours.

I’ll always fight to get home to you.

[tang3r1n]

still on my shitty dabi kick and i think i struck a chord with @mostlyheinous so here’s random ass shit i think a deadbeat bf dabi would do

18+, hard dubcon, gaslighting, manipulation, smoking, forced drinking/taking of drugs, dabi purposely makes you have a bad trip on acid, unprotected sex, anal (referenced plus a thumb in the stink) i’ll add more idfk

kay first off, along the smoke vein, dabi would absolutely threaten to put his cigarettes/blunts out on you if you keep crying (openly, he loves watching you cry all quiet n sniffly)

he’s also no doubt changed you around the apartment with bugs/gross shit just to make you squeal and beg him to put it away

“baby it’s jus’lil beetle~” while waving a fucking 4in long roach he found outside in your face, “gimmie a big, sloppy kiss and i might throw Jeffrey away, as much as it pains me to.”

constantly making you exchange physical/sexual acts for practically basic respect

“show me your pretty tits and i’ll let you go hang with those stupid cunts— no i’m not gonna stop callin’em that, they’re dumb cunts.”

loves making you suck him off right after work, still all musky from the day, his cock even more salty from sweating all day (scent/smell kink is my fav im SORRY.) plugging your nose and jutting his hips out harshly to make you gag and cough around his cock, the sinfully wet noise making him groan out a chuckle as he watched you cringe

any and all attempts to change his behavior end with gaslighting and fake hurt plastered on his face as he breaks your fucking back in bed

“ungh- you’re such a fucking good girl f’me.. i love your, pretty, im so sorry you feel the need to accuse me of such things- god squeeze my dick like that again, fuck yeah- i..uh- gonna make you cum so hard, show y’how this noisy cunt ‘sall mine..”

steals your panties and jacks off with them right fucking in front of you, dick swinging and balls out as he strikes himself with your panties pressed against his face. his bright ass blue eyes piercing into you while he noisily huffs in the smell of your pussy and licks up the crotch of them like the perverted degenerate he is

oh and when you try to break it off, setting him down to explain that he is just..too much.. for you, he goes ballistic.

grabbing you by the hair and dragging you to the bedroom, placing you down still surprisingly softly as he ferociously tears off your clothes and starts eating you out like his life depend on it (idk to him it might, he’s a loser)

once he’s got you all whiny and soft after a few mind-shattering orgasms, he’ll start coping and trying to slip you back into the haze of his glaringly obvious manipulative love

“don’t say stupid fucking shit, pretty, jus’cuz y’on your period or what-the-fuck-ever is going on in that lil head don’t mean you can treat me like this.”

hell chastise you while he fingers you, fingers blurred as he finger-fucks you dizzy, fishing his cock outta his dirty jeans and scoffing as you whine and cry again, shuffling up the bed

he pulls you in again by your ankles, a scarred hand quickly silencing you as it softly pressed against your throat, a silent threat, as he spoke patronizing words to your sex and lust filled mind,

“just be my good angel one more time, pretty,” he forces a crack in his voice, flexing his throat so he sounds tearful and sad, “i just..i love you s’much, wanna show my pretty girl, my everything, how much she means t’me,”

the second you nod he’s grinning manically and flipping you over, forcing his cock into your wet cunt and rabidly humping against your ass, dick barely leaving and inch before pumping right back in as deep as it’d fit.

he’d spit on your other puckered lil hole, making your cry and squirm yet again as he pushes his thumb against it, gut burning with lust and a perverted sense of affection

“no- nononono angel- calm it down, i jus’wanna feel your cute ass ‘round me, promise it’ll just be my thumb— yes pretty i pinky promise

(he ends up cumming in your ass i don’t make the rules mb)

other than failed breakups and gaslighting, dabi also likes getting his pretty wasted

like… really wasted.

dabi’ll give you shit after shot, even making you sit pretty for him while he spits Jack Daniels into your awaiting mouth

he spikes literally all drinks he makes you and it’s so obvious but he just tells you it’s to ‘loosen your bitchy ass up,’ but in his own special, joking tone.

cut to you blowing cum bubbles while you suck him off, completely drunk, head dizzy and body fuzzy as he records you almost mindlessly salivating over him.

“say hi to Shigaraki f’me, pretty, little bastard is gonna love seeing you all horned up and slutty~”

he also shotguns his blunt/pipe/bong hits to you—never lets you hit in your own

dabi loves it if you sit on his lap during this too, a rare domestic scene of you both just vibing and grinding, soft praises and touches that feel unreal coming from him

the he ruins it by slapping your ass and making you cook him dinner

wait i had a funny idea hold on

“babe can we please go see my momma today— it’s just that it’s m’birthday and you made me skip it last year..”

“pretty, that bitch hates my ass, why would we go see someone who hates us?” (notice he says ‘us’ anyways)

[cut to momma glaring at dabi the entire time they’re over and throwing shoes at him once he opens his fucking mouth]

kay that’s all for now ig

wait

sometimes when you’re falling asleep you can hear him obsessively rambling and mumbling abt how much he loves you, how disgusting everyone else alive is, how he’d kill anyone who dared talk to-LOOK at you, how he thinks you’re such a soft, beautiful little thing that he just wants to protect but oh how he fucking loves ruining your angel wings.

[amurih]

Fuck it ima put it out anyway.

COTL AU where instead of staying in the cult Narinder leaves and builds his own little plot of land that becomes a rare occurrence you find while crusading through the different biomes post game.

Like it starts off when the lamb like spares Narinder and he’s like sent to the cult. And is in such a state of shock and bewilderment of what just happened that he doesn’t really know that the lamb is setting up their wedding until he’s at the alter. And he just SNAPS. To trade one prison for another? And to be stuck with the same being that not only took your crown, but your title as the god of death as your jailer? No thank you. Proceeds to walk out while the service is still going.

(I’m not the kind of person to think that he would be murdering or plotting to kill the lamb at every turn or possibly. No I would think that Narinder is smart enough to realize that he cannot fight the lamb in the condition that he is reduced to.)

Anyway, I want Narinder to experience life post-godhood by himself outside the cult. Maybe progressing over time you see how his plot of land develops into a pretty nice home for himself complete with a garden and an actual building/house. Not a hut, but an actual house.

All the while the lamb is going through it. It’s normal game play like one would post Narinder fight. Lore, upgrades, reviving the bishops, mystic seller, etc. All the while experiencing the highs and lows of ascension. I think the lamb would ask the other bishops once they get indoctrinated of how they went through their ascensions went. Only they would tell them that each went through theirs differently, so in the end it wasn’t really helpful.

So going through a process that you have no idea how to get through and the only person who does has fuck off into the land and hates your guts. Really fucking sucks man. So they try to “catch” Narinder while out crusading. Only they don’t find him physically, they find his place of residence while he is away.

I thought of a way to incorporate the quests that Narinder gives you when he is usually established in the cult. Could still be used: like there’s a book left on a table where you could peak in and see what’s going on with the cat that is currently away from his house.

“ I should head to Darkwoods and see if I can find more materials to build that fence and make more paper. Moving materials from one abandon home stead to this place has been challenging enough. My arms hurt after years of being bound to one position for so long...I wonder if camellias still bloom there now that Leshy is gone? If not I’ll have to develop a new alternative for this persistent strain and sharp pains I keep having. Got to get these walls up before it starts raining.”

“Bah! There’s not enough food at the last abandoned settlement let alone seeds. It’ll take long of a walk all the way to smuggler’s cove just to see if that sea louse got any thing. And it hasn’t been that long since the depletion of fish at pilgrim’s passage. I would have just stuck to what vegetables and berries I’ve got growing, but some animal or heratic keeps getting into my garden and stealing my food!when I find the person or thing that is stealing from me I’m going to make them into my fertilizer. In the meantime I should look into Anura and see if those foul mushrooms are still there. If I remember they are just as foul as Hecket when she would screamed about being hungry during dinner…Those should hold me over until I get this unwanted pest under control.”

“The wind and rain coming in through the holes on the side of the house that I use to see if any heretics come to kill me, has gotten too much. I’m tired of having to clean up the puddles of water that enters the home. And the curtains don’t do much in terms of trying to block both of these elements.That stupid squid Kallamar doesn’t need his crystals now that he’s gone. It didn’t help him when trying to hide from me. I’ll go to Anchordeep tomorrow and get some to make crystal windows. They sure would make it more beautiful than their temple…”

“Finally the loom is ready. It’s been a such a long time since I had decent robes. It’s easy to find cotton, but what I really want is a nice, soft, silk robe. One that doesn’t rub against these scars preferably. I miss the old one Shamura they made with their silk. But, that one got destroyed in the fight with that damn vessel. Maybe there is some in Silk Cradle. ”

(I’ll come back to this when I flesh it out more via work time daydreams)

[dogs2shouldvote]

in contrast with my last post, in my latest relisten of taz balance i also recorded a bunch of quotes that felt like a punch to the gut (with zero context mostly). here’s some that made me a) cry or b) freak out because foreshadowing

MAJOR taz balance spoilers ahead; if you haven’t already listened to this amazing show, you should!

- “you can’t kill robbie, i have some big franchise plans for robbie”

- “you found her?“

- “one of you isn’t a lich, are you?”

- “tell julia i said i love her”

- “your staff, you lost control of it, and you blasted the letters L U P into the wall”

- “you look familiar too. have we met?” (this one i did put context for, it’s ren speaking to magnus in the eleventh hour during one of the early loops)

- “is there anything else you can edit in our past?” (this one also had context, magnus to istus i believe)

- “you’re going to be amazing”

- “there’s a long span of time that’s just not there” … “while you’re looking through these memories… there is something about the memory is a little bit off. there’s parts of it that are a little bit staticky.”

- “i named my fish after him”

- “he didn’t want to be a hero. it wasn’t his desire.”

- “Do you remember the last thing you said?”

“I said ‘I love you, Jules.’”

- “lup. they don’t trust me. i cant do it anymore, lup. i’m sorry”

- “the hunger is almost here. and when it arrives, the world will be lost.”

- “and it’s an incredibly familiar face, because it’s your face, magnus. this figure in the red robe is you.”

- “why are you doing this, taako?”

“because i’m worried no one else will have me”

- “you see this red robe put a single skeletal finger to its nonexistent lips”

- ”i’ll be having my body back you undead fuck”

- “trust barry. love barry. taako… it’s me… it’s *static*”

- “when there was trouble, you took the big hit. didn’t you, bud?”

- “and taako you remember lup now. how could you forget lup?”

- “are we just gonna burn every world that we can’t save just to keep the hunger from getting its hands on them? how does that make us any better than them?”

- “this is where we get to decide who we are”

- “show them the duck. it’s a good duck. i think they’ll like it!”

- “your journey could have ended anywhere�� but it ended here. and you’re so grateful for that.”

- “sometimes there aren’t right decisions. sometimes there’s just decisions.”

- “back soon”

- “as his body falls further and further down, you realize you don’t know who that is.”

- “magnus. i’m going to find a place for you to be happy. it’ll just be for a little bit. i can do this. i love you magnus. i love all of you *fading into static*”

- “you *fucking took everything. from me*.”

- “i needed to say goodbye to someone

- “i don’t expect you all to forgive me…”

“i run over and hug her”

- “there’s magic in a bards song. they call it is inspiration and it tells the listener what they need to hear when they need to hear it… and you hear johann’s voice and it says: ‘you’re gonna have to fight… and *you’re gonna win!*’”

- “how does magnus die?”

- “and thus ends adventure zone balance. the story of four idiots who played dnd so hard they made themselves cry.”

[busines-as-unusual]

˖ ࣪ ⭑⟡Chapter 9 - And How Do You Manage? ⟡⭑ ࣪ ˖

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Content Warning in this chapter for: sexual harrasment, unwanted touching, and bad puns

You were sick. More so than usual.

Ever since that night with Alastor, you had a knot in your stomach that refused to go away.

Thankfully there was no shortage of work to keep your mind too busy to ruminate. Work with the hotel was smooth sailing. Music was planned, auditions wrapped up— as predicted Angel got a lead role— and rehearsals were underway. Between that and running your bar, you had no time to dwell on how Alastor caught you during a horrifically vulnerable and revealing moment.

You didn’t fixate on how tipsy you got and how that made you bold enough to initiate touch with Alastor. Or how he didn’t push you away and how amazing that felt. Not a single time. Especially not at night when you tried to sleep.

You certainly didn’t think about how whenever you and Alastor met in the hotel to review event progression he treated you no differently than before. How he behaved like his usual cordial, charming, irritating self, and never mentioned what happened that night.

You absolutely did not consider how he caught you at your lowest, knew your greatest shame, how he saw you… and nothing had changed.

Did you appreciate that? Or did you resent him for crossing that boundary with you without permission? Did that change the nature of your relationship with Alastor? Or was it foolish to consider that at all? Maybe it was foolish to think any of this mattered. Would ruminating on this drive you mad? Was that what Alastor wanted? Was that his game plan?

You didn’t know because you weren't even thinking about those things. None of these thoughts crossed your mind, not once, not one time.

And you definitely weren’t looking for Alastor as you, Charlie, and Vaggie assessed the hotel’s amphitheater. Nope! You were a businesswoman doing serious business things with professional-level focus.

The hotel’s amphitheater was beautifully grand: Plush red leather chairs wrapped around in a semicircle of the large golden stage with ornate apple designs and a tall satin curtain, white instead of red. Chandeliers made of hundreds of multicolored crystals sparkled overhead.

You couldn’t have imagined a better place for the performances. A part of you worried there were too many seats, but Charlie was confident every one would be filled. For whatever reason, you trusted her gut.

Crew members scurried around, cleaning or testing equipment. A flash of red in the corner of your eye; your head swiveled so fast your neck cracked. It was Niffty, scurrying along the seats and chasing some fuzzy, bug-like vermin with a sewing needle, getting close but no cigar.

“Hey, Niffty,” you called. She eyed the critter with a murderous intent before scrambling over with her usual big, happy, smile.

You fished out one of the knives from your garter and presented it to her. Instead of taking it, she stared wide-eyed in awe at you; The Lady of the Lake handing her Excalibur.

Charlie and Vaggie frowned with concern. Vaggie waved a hand in front of Niffty’s face. “Uh… Nifft? You good?”

Finally she spoke, her voice quiet. “Am I worthy?”

You played along. “The worthiest, my dear.”

Cackling, Niffty snatched the knife and jumped back into the hunt, weaving through crew members’ legs and knocking a few of them over. She chased the varmint onto the stage.

You cupped your hands, shouting, “Save me the bones!”

“Gotcha!”

Niffty swan dived off the stage and chased the critter out of the amphitheater, laughing like a mad woman drunk on power.

Oh god, what have you done?

You turned to the girls. “I’ll take full responsibility for the damages.”

“Oh, don’t worry about her.” Charlie waved away your concern, her smile uncertain. “I’m sure it’ll be fine—”

A distant shriek of pain— that could’ve been from anyone for any reason— confirmed her sentiment.

“Anyway!” Charlie clapped her hands and spun on her heels. “Things look like they’re going well here. How about we meet with Husk and go over the refreshment situation?”

It was bound to happen sooner or later.

The wall behind your headboard was thoroughly wrecked; peeling paint and crumbling plaster revealed the ragged brick underneath. Once again, your talent for picking lovers was a blessing and a curse.

Mostly a blessing.

You called some of your employees to have it fixed, and figured you might as well have the room repainted while they were at it. The whole process would be a few days at most.

Your home was made to entertain guests, not keep them. You needed a place to stay in the meantime, so you packed some clothes and your essentials and did what you promised yourself never to do… you checked into the Hazbin Hotel.

You could’ve stayed with Mimzy, it’s been a while since you’ve seen her. Or with Rosie and caught her up to date about all those things you weren’t ruminating on. You had plenty of acquaintances who would’ve let you crash on their couch for a few nights, but in the end you succumbed to impulses you knew would bite you in the ass later. You were a child told not to touch a hot stove… in this weird metaphor where you were also the mother telling yourself not to touch the hot stove.

You were your own worst enemy. Maybe your mother was right.

An energetic Charlie greeted you at the hotel, oh-so happy you’d be staying for a few days, followed by Angel, oh-so happy to finally have a night off from dealing with Valentino’s bullshit.

A night like this couldn’t go to waste, so Angel called Cherrie, and you along with Husk hit up Consent, the nightclub you’ve heard so much about.

It was either that or stick around and risk having an awkward conversation with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Ruminated-On.

Of course, you had to change out of what Cherrie had poetically dubbed, “old granny lingerie.” You wrangled together an outfit more befitting of a modern setting. You had a short wine-colored dress you accessorized with a leather chest harness with Succubi wings (because you used every excuse to wear it in and out of the bedroom). Once Cherrie squished your cleavage and mussed up your hair, you were deemed acceptable to leave the hotel.

Modern clubs weren’t really your style, but Consent was a pretty decent joint. The place was teeming with infectious positive vibes and the music was decent. At least you had a great time shaking your ass after a couple shots.

The thumping music and flashing lights moved you, and for a while your mind was free and blissfully numb as you danced with the Cherrie and Angel (drinking was more Husk’s speed). Cherrie ribbed you for how you danced, while conversation with Husk was a welcomed reprieve from the dance floor. The entire night, Angel insisted on taking pictures with everyone between shots of tequila and shots of even more tequila.

Speaking of which, it was your turn to buy drinks for the group. You brought them over to the corner table where your friends gathered and presented them all with a flourish and a big, drunken grin. “Voila, mes amis! Afterlife-saving alcohol. Buvons!”

“Don’t spill the good shit!” Cherrie laughed, helping you set the drinks on the table.

The four of you toasted with your shot glasses before shooting them back. It burned deliciously all the way down, warming your cheeks and relaxing your muscles.

You slammed the glass on the table with a big, contented sigh. “Ah! Just what I needed.”

“You’re telling me,” Angel said. “You’ve been tense for days. Somethin’ happen, toots? Ya ain’t getting laid enough?”

“Pffft! No! To both. I’ve been… overworked, ‘sall.” A very convincing dismissive wave of your hand. “Y’know with the event and my club and… stuff.”

Husk mmm-hmmed knowingly, eying you but staying quiet. As long as you’ve known him, he could see right through anyone and everyone. His six sense was what made him such a good gambler, good enough to be quite the Overlord, once upon a time.

“Well, maybe there’s been something… but it’s whatever, y’know. Hardly interesting at all.”

Cherrie leaned in, playfully jostling your shoulder. “C’mon! Spill it, bitch. You’re drunk enough to overshare.”

You considered it for a moment. Alastor already knew about the worst thing to ever happen to you. Telling these three how you felt about him couldn’t be any worse… or if it was, your fuzzy brain couldn’t produce the reasons.

Your fingers drummed the table. “I’ve been suffering… from a certain infliction…involving Alastor.”

“Certain inflict— the fuck are you on about?”

“She means she has it bad for Alastor,” Husk said before taking another swig of his drink.

Your fists pounded the table, mortified. “Husker!”

“What? It’s the fucking truth.”

“Seriously?” Angel asked in genuine surprise. “You have a thing for Freaky Face?”

Cherrie laughed. “Well fuck me double dead!”

You covered your face with both hands. “Is it that obvious?”

“Pretty much.” Husk shrugged. “I have no reason to give a fuck and I still noticed.”

You groaned, and dropped your face flat on the table, drinks clattering from the force.

“You wanna fuck the creep?” Angel asked.

“What?!” You lifted your head, chin on the table.

“I said…” He cupped his hand to his mouth and yelled over the music, “‘You wanna the creep?!’” His outburst earned your table a few semi-interested side glances from passers’by.

“Oh!” You laughed, flopping backwards in the booth. “Abso-bloody-lutely! The moment I saw him I wanted to jump his bones.”

Actually, the thought that ran through your head the night you first laid eyes on the drop-dead gorgeous stranger with the glasses and killer smile was that he looked like danger, vice, and sin… and that he probably ate people. It’s what spurred you on to steal him away for yourself.

No one ever said you were a well woman.

“Hold on a sec.” Cherrie brow creased over her eye and looked at you skeptically. “Ya serious with me right now?”

“Of course. Have you seen him?”

“Exactly why I'm askin’.”

You scoffed. “You must have cataracts because he is so goddamn fine, a certified looker and I am always looking. Very disrespectfully, I might add.”

“Look,” Angel said. “I'm not saying he's unattractive—”

“I am.” Husk and Cherrie said in unison.

“—but he's, like, the physical embodiment of a fuckin’ nightmare.”

“He is, isn't he?” You sighed dreamily, slanted smile on your face at the thought of Alastor. “I remember the first time I saw him grow in size to eat a person whole. He unhinged his jaw like a goddamn snake. I couldn’t sleep for days! And those weird magic tendrils he has make me—”

“No!” Husk held his hand, his face awash with absolute disgust. “No. Stop, goddammit. I’m trying to keep this shit down tonight.” He took a swig of his drink, as if to wash down your train of thought like vile medicine.

“Twenty or thirty years ago, I saw him with his coat off and his sleeves rolled up. His bare arms?” You fanned yourself dramatically at the memory. “Oh! I could double die!”

Cherrie laughed, smacking the table. “Girl, come on! You’re actin’ like some Victorian prude seeing ankles for the first time.”

“Sounds about right. I was raised by two of them.”

Angel frowned. “I thought you lived around my neck of the woods?”

“Mon ami.” You put a hand on his shoulder with a cheeky grin. “They’re called boats.”

He flipped you off with three-fourths of his hands; you and Cherrie burst out laughing.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Angel waved away your jest. “So Creepy Face makes you dehydrated, huh? Why haven’t you jumped his spooky bones yet?”

I cringed like he suggested I chew on broken glass for fun. “Be serious, Angel. You live with the man. You think he’d ever be receptive to <i>anyone</i> jumping his spooky bones?”

A shrug of both sets of shoulders. “Eh, fair. I always got the feeling he didn’t play on any team.”

“And that’s fine, y’know? I don’t want to change him or anything, but when it comes to Alastor…” You grabbed another shot and swished the clear liquid around in the small glass. “I’m a dizzy yuck carrying a torch for the gigglemug and I’m going mad as a box of frogs.”

“Uh, in fucking English please?” Cherrie asked.

“She means she’s down baaa-aaad.” Angel sing-songed, waggling his brows.

Cherrie chortled, throwing you a look of mock sympathy. “Aww! You want him to be ya <i>boyfriend</i>, ya sentimental mug?”

They laughed, and Husk shook his head in pity.

Thoroughly humiliated, you finished your shot. Then two more… and then one last shot for good luck. “Thank you all for the wonderful evening. Excuse me while I go play in traffic.”

You stood, but Angel grabbed you by the arm and pulled you back down. “Relax, toots. We’re just razzing ya.”

“Yeah, chill out, ya drama queen!” Cherrie slid over one of Husk’s tall glasses of alcohol, much to his annoyance. “Here’s what you’ll do. Down some liquid courage and screw the next guy you see. Random dick best medicine for a broken heart.”

Your nervous laughter was unconvincing even to your drunken ears. “A broken whaaaaat are you talking about? You… silly little lady.”

Cherrie rolled her eye. “Uh huh. Start chugging, skank!”

Husk argued this was a terrible idea, and Angel ended up playing mediator between him and Cherrie. You heard none of it as you downed a pint of whatever in six seconds. It was sweet and terrible, like dirty sugared nail polish.

A rush of warmth rolled through you under your skin, making you shudder. You stood with the empty glass, holding it by the rim. “Mish we luck, darlings!” Purposely, you dropped the glass, and ignored the shouts of protest around you as you bantered back onto the dance floor.

It didn’t take long for an over eager demon to approach you. You’d spotted him eyeing you earlier but didn’t pay him much mind. He was some type of weasel-faced demon with jagged teeth and a jacket over a garish button up.

You stilled as unwanted hands snaked over your hips from behind, making your skin crawl. Cologne flooded your nose, making you gag.

“Hey, honey tits. You’ve been dancing all night. Why don’tcha kick up your feet and sit on my face a while?”

No fucking thanks.

You looked at him over your shoulder, red lips curled into an unamused smile. “That couldn’t have worked for you before.”

He chuckled with unwarranted smugness; rancid beer breath wafted over your cheek. “Come on, sexy.” A squeeze of your hips, an unwelcomed hump against your ass. “Bet I can show you a good time.”

“For some reason, I’m doubtful.” You wiggled from his grip and turned to face him. “I must ask you to, respectfully, piss off. But please do have a terrific night, you noisome sack of soiled taint.”

You turned to walk away, but he grabbed at you again like he had the right, tugging on your tail, hard.

The ghost of a smile lived on your face as you swallowed down a terrified yelp. “You’re gonna take your fucking hand off me.”

He scowled like you were piss on the sidewalk he stepped in. “Look at Roman’s favorite little slut thinking she’s better than she is—”

A flash around your fist; you introduced his mouth to your brass knuckles. The bones in his jaw caved before he crumbled like a ton of bricks at your feet. All at once the music cut out as dozens of eyes suddenly locked on you and the man you sucker punched.

Your friends at the table stared at you, stunned. “What the hell?” Husk shouted. “It hasn’t even been a minute!”

“Oh shit!” A group of about ten or so men ran to the passed out bastard at your feet. “Oi, what the fuck! You killed Ricky!”

The bastard in question stirred, rolled over, and spat out a few bloodied teeth.

You motioned to him like a sack of laundry. “Ricky’s right as rain, fellas. What’s the problem?”

No surprise, you were the problem, if the several guns aimed at your chest were any indication. Angel, Cherrie, and Husk rushed to your side, guns, bombs, and cards out in defense.

Fist to jaw, you cracked your neck from side to side. “So you wanna dance?” You grabbed one of your thigh knives and flicked it, the blade extending to the length of your forearm. “Let’s cut a rug!”

“Oh, hell yeah!” Cherrie whooped, tossing a bomb up and catching it with one hand. “Let’s fuckin’ go!”

And fuckin’ go you did.

You rushed the nearest goon. Ducking under his firing gun, your blade cleaved clean through his kneecaps. He howled and toppled over, severed legs left standing right, blood spurting like a busted fountain.

Soon the battle unfolded into a blur of carnage and unadulterated violence. The crowd, desperate not to get hit in the crossfire, screamed and fled out the door in droves. A flurry of bullets, blood, and explosions rocked the building. You caught glimpses of the others through the chaos and smoke: Angel gunned down the larger guys in the back. Husk, quick as a whip, threw his playing cards, slicing through torsos and necks. Cherrie threw her bombs with reckless abandon, her laughter accented with explosions. And you twirled light on your feet, slicing and dicing with experienced ease.

The smoke cleared, the fight ending faster than it started, the night capped off with the four of you surrounded by massacred bodies and rubble. You ended up cutting a juicy fat check to the extremely pissed off owner.

The four of you rode the high of victory all the way back to the hotel, laughing and talking way louder than necessary. After exchanging good nights, you shuffled to your room, singing under your breath and rummaging your purse for your room key.

“Quand il me prend dans ses bras… Il me parle tout basaaassSHIT!”

Where was your key? You dug through your purse, even dumped the contents on the floor. Lipstick, condoms, and spare tampons spilled on the floor, but not your room key.

Shit.

Shit shit shit!

Husk wouldn’t be able to get you a second key until morning, and you had no idea what room he or Angel slept in. That left…

“… shit.”

You knocked on the door three times. Thirty seconds passed, a minute, the silence painfully deafening. You contemplated sleeping in the lounge when the door to the Radio Tower eased open.

“Ah, salut!” You leaned on the door frame and nearly stumbled. Despite your nerves, you couldn’t hide your dopey happy grin. “There's the man I wanted to see!”

Alastor's permanent smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Temerity! What brings you here at this hour? And in such a state?”

Oh, right. Once again you stood before Alastor splattered in the blood of your enemies. You two had to stop meeting like this.

“Listen, my door is all—” You clicked your tongue and pantomimed turning a key in a door. “And I need you.”

“To unlock your door?”

“… yes, that.”

A look flashed across his face you had no hope of discerning while inebriated. He stepped through the door and whirled his microphone behind him.

“I see! Well, I’m more than happy to be of assistance!”

You figured he’d use his freaky voodoo/hoodoo powers to summon a key, instead he strolled down the hall. Seconds passed before your three remaining brain cells figured out you should follow him. Alastor stopped in front of your room door. This was his way of messing with you, letting you know he knew where you slept.

…or maybe you were paranoid, but what was more likely?

Once at your door, he tapped it with his cane and the door eased open with a glowing green light. “There you are, my dear!”

“Merci beaucoup, Al-a-stor~”

You blew him a kiss and spun into the room, confidently inelegant. Alastor couldn’t help his hum of amusement. Even this sloppily drunk he found you to be more amusing than unsavory.

Alastor turned to leave when a terrified “Oh, bollocks!” stopped him in his tracks. Seeing you dig through your bra was not what he expected.

“Wait! Never mind.” You pulled your hand free and dropped three small white blobs on the dresser with a clatter. Teeth, Alastor realized. Sharp and jagged canine-like teeth.

A twitch in his eye as he regarded you. “Temerity, why were there teeth in your undergarments?”

“They’re not mine.”

Speechless. He was speechless, brow furrowed, head tilted to the side. Your blasé attitude left him with more questions.

You seemed to mistake his expression for annoyance. “‘m sorry about this. I know it’s late. I bet you were sleep sleep.”

“Not at all, actually.” He and insomnia had a complex relationship, to say the very least.

“Why? Because sleep is the cousin of death, or because it’s stupid?” You struggled with the lascivious harness strapped across your chest, pulling it off with so much force you nearly fell on your back. “We’re dead! Why do we even need to sleep? Or eat? Or have sex?”

Well, he could agree with two out of three of those things.

Alastor casually dusted off an outstretched sleeve and fixed his suit. “A very astute question, my dear. I’m afraid you’d have to ask the feathered schmucks stairs,” he said, using your own words from the other night.

You snorted, laughing behind a blood-speckled hand. “Alastor! Lord, you alway make me laugh…”

You rolled on your stomach, swinging your feet in the air and beaming at him with pure admiration, expression unfiltered due to your intoxication. “Remember that time at the bar? Those clods yapped and yapped about their old ladies, going on and on, and they started needling you about ‘your gal’ and you went—” you sat and cleared your throat, pushing up imaginary glasses. “‘My gal made a great meal, but I sure do miss her!’”

Alastor’s eye twitched. Your impression of him left much to be desired.

He didn’t listen as you went on to describe the night, because he recalled it clearly. He remembered that night decades ago at the speakeasy Mimzy worked. He’d spent many a night there schmoozing, drinking, dancing, prowling for possible prey.

In particular Alastor remembered the dark-haired, bright-eyed woman with far too much confidence who spirited him away to the dance floor, proudly declaring, “You look like a fella with stamina! You’re my partner now!”

He remembered sitting at the bar with you after hours of dancing and a few drinks in, hazy with smoke and surrounded by faceless dregs who jabbered on and on about uninteresting manners. His joke— really his attempt to steer the conversation off course— was received well by you alone.

Smile lines crinkled around your eyes as you snorted. Without skipping a beat, you said, “How sweet! My man only gives me the cold shoulder.”

He grinned, hardly noticing or caring when the others retreated from the bar. “To think he’d treat a dame like you so poorly. How tasteless.”

An exaggerated head shake. “I’m thinking of throwing him out.”

“In that case, I’d love to have you for dinner sometime.”

You leaned in, your permanent self-assured grin replaced with one of girlhood giddiness, in stark contrast to the jokes about cannibalism. “As long as it doesn’t—“ you stifled a laugh, “doesn’t cost you an arm and a leg!”

“Of course not, dear! Perhaps afterwards we can have a nice chat over a cup of Joe.”

You lost it, conceding to him the win in the battle of cheesy puns as you giggled like mad and wiped away tears.

Back in the present you swiped at tears of laughter and threw yourself back on the bed. “We were so dumb! It wasn’t even funny, I just—” A deep yawn rolled through you, “…appreciated your commitment… to the bit…”

You went silent, a soft rumble as your breathing deepended, and you fell sound asleep in an instant. Alastor would almost admire the ability… if it wasn’t simply because you were drunk. He’d seen you tipsy before, from afar at functions. Even when you two met you weren’t as wasted as this.

In your inebriated state you didn’t know what you revealed. Despite your candor about discussing your life on earth, you never mentioned your shared history with Alastor before meeting again in Hell. He thought you’d forgotten, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

He had to keep that in mind.

While brief, meeting you was a splendidly memorable night. At the time, he regretted never having the chance to meet with you again, despite your insistence that the two of you should. Someone like you was a rare fine, a true gem among the clods.

Alastor sensed you held similar secrets to him. Not necessarily that you killed people, but he could tell you protected yourself with charisma, hid behind smiles, and kept your true identity hidden within the depths of your soul. Despite your charm and wit, none of the people in your entourage stayed by your side as the night progressed.

Perhaps if one had you wouldn’t have met your fate that night…

Well! Enough reminiscing for one night! It was time for him to return to his Radio Tower, but once again something stopped him.

He looked over your sleeping form. Gentle snoring rumbled in your chest like distant thunder, a soft exhale escaped your parted lips. Your blood red heels (that most likely weren’t that color when you put them on) dangled over the foot of the bed.

His smile twisted as he took in your vulnerable sleeping body. What was it you said to him the night he found you, splashed with crimson in the same manner? Only an absolute fool would trust him absolutely.

Yet here you were, willing to be vulnerable in his presence.

Alastor could only fathom falling asleep in front of Rosie, but their relationship was the exception that proved the rule. While he meant you no physical harm and knew you didn’t fear him, it was appalling to him you’d choose to put yourself in this position.

Frankly, it was pure foolishness.

Perhaps the alcohol was to blame, but he doubted it. Coming to him was one option of many and you chose him. You trusted him.

For reasons he didn’t quite understand he found himself kneeling at the foot of your bed, ready to remove your heels.

It would’ve been more interesting to do this when you were awake. After all, most of the joy of violating one’s personal space came from annoying them, drawing expressions and reactions from them by mere proximity.

Would you be appalled and act disgusted by him violating your boundaries? Perhaps given your state you’d finally give in and confess to him. That could be fun, but nowhere near as satisfying if you did it clear headed, cognisant of the consequences.

Alastor found himself doing it anyway, gently slipping off one at a time and setting them aside. He knew first hand one shouldn’t sleep with shoes on.

Your skin flecked with blood reminded him of that night he saw your mask shattered in the perfect marriage of theatrics and brutality. His eyes glance to the blood smattering the fat of your thighs. An unfamiliar pang ached in the center of his being, a feeling he could only register as hunger.

How peculiar…

The feeling caught him by utter surprise. His taste in flesh never included friends; his psyche deemed them off limits and he was unable to view them as food.

But looking at you defenseless and covered in blood— like a wounded lamb purposefully dragging itself into the lion’s den— the uncomfortable longing stirring in him had to be hunger…

Alastor stood, more quickly than necessary, forcing his eyes off you and onto your room. Then he saw something that forced that feeling to rise into his chest, a final revelation before he vanished into the shadows.

Your radio from home sat on the nightstand.

A/N: Sorry I haven’t uploaded in a while. I got really depressed, got addicted to ai chatbots, and forgot how to write…

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Signed, Renata

Boss!Renata Glasc x POC!Reader

Warning: Boss!Renata Glasc, POC!Reader, Confession, Love Notes, Valentine’s Day in the Office, blushing so hard your cheeks hurt, your coworkers make fun of you, recognizing someone by their perfume, you get a kiss

Summary: Love is in the air and you’re stuck at work instead of enjoying the themed drinks and desserts… until you find your desk covered in gifts from an unknown admirer.

The words on the paper were blurring the more you tried to read them. Your lunch break was only a short ten minutes away but it felt like forever with how antsy you were feeling. When you woke up, your phone had been flooded with text messages from your friends saying ‘Happy Galentine’s Day!’ Your couple friends were sharing their cute messages and posts, and you knew there’d be even more coming in tonight. You were a sucker for days like this and it made you bummed out to be working when you could be home and taking a nice themed bath. But, all hope was not lost. Your boss was nice and allowed your workplace to decorate and celebrate as long it was all cleaned up by the next morning.

That meant that the office had been decorated in various shades of pink, red, and white with hearts and cheesy pick-up lines everywhere. It brought a lot of laughter and joy… for most of the people. There were a few who were determined to ruin the fun and say Valentine’s was a stupid holiday to celebrate. Their desks had suspiciously been left undecorated and no one wanted to come forward and admit that they were the ones who didn’t do it. Other than that, the day went by as normal and you were so happy to hear your little alarm go off.

You gathered up all of your paperwork, clipped them together, and carefully filed them back into the folder they needed to be in. Your boss would gut you like a fish if she walked past your desk and it was a mess. You could never forget the ice in her voice when you heard her lay into Ken about how much of a slob he was on your first day. That had you scrambling ever since to make sure you kept your area pristine. You didn’t want her to speak to you that way at all.

Your coworkers linked up with you and you ducked into the cafeteria to eat. The chefs had made dishes themed to the day so you were giggling over the heart-shaped desserts and sandwiches. Everyone scrolled through their phones and shared posts on their socials that they thought were pretty or funny. You were just relieved to have a break. You yawn, clutching the hot cup of coffee in your hands hoping it’ll be enough to get you through the rest of the day. You savor each sip while listening to the others talk before the sound of the lunch alarm goes off. ‘Lunch is over already?’ You complain to yourself. You get up and place your mug in the dirty dishes pile, waving at the chefs before heading out of the room.

Everyone normally took some time to get back to their desks but you were confused to see them all hovering around your area. Jamie glanced back and he waved you over with a bright smile on his face. You hurried your pace, feeling a little confused as more of your coworkers gave you the same look.

“What’s going on?” You ask, nudging them to the side when you realize they are staring at your area. Your jaw drops when you see your desk. It was covered with rose petals, decorated with an assortment of flowers and a note was neatly tucked into the keys of your keyboard. You noticed a large box of your favorite chocolates along with a box of artisan chocolate from one of the higher-end chocolatiers in the city. It was beautiful and someone clearly put a lot of time and effort into it. ‘Who put all of that time and effort into this?’ was your first thought. Your second thought was ‘Ms. Glasc is going to murder me if she sees this!’ Your body felt conflicted about how it should react. On one hand, you were terrified your boss was going to scold you for making a mess. On the other, someone was into you enough to do this. You could feel your cheeks warm. Your lips twitched before giving in and curving into a smile so wide it hurt.

“Someone has an admirer!” One of your coworkers says, shaking you. You hear them all giggle and start to tease you about it. It only makes the feeling worse. It couldn’t be from anyone on your floor, right? You all went to lunch at the same time. But, that didn’t mean anything either. Not everyone ate lunch here. Some people chose to go out and pick up lunch from one of the nearby restaurants. Anyone could have done it. It didn’t help that your desks had walls high enough that no one could see over them.

Although your coworkers continue to rile you up, your focus is taken by the note. You walk forward and pick it up, taking a seat in your chair as a few rose petals fall from it. The envelope feels heavier in your hand than the standard ones you’re used to. Your name is scrawled across it in a handwriting that is oddly familiar to you. That piques your curiosity even more. You turn it over and your heart skips a beat seeing the Glasc family crest pressed into the wax seal. Overtaken by your curiosity you pop the seal and unfurl the paper to see the same beautiful scrawling calligraphy across the paper. Your heart beats faster as you catch the faint scent of Darling Decadence, the personal fragrance your boss wears. Your eyes scan the page and your heart beats faster and faster until you reach the closing line.

What would you say if I requested a kiss, pet?

Your breathing catches. Did your boss really write this… love letter… to you?

“What has everyone so excited?” Ms.Glasc’s raspy voice cuts through everyone else’s like the sharpest of knives. The room goes silent and you freeze. You whip around so fast that your chair spins with you. You make eye contact with her. Her glowing magenta eyes pierce your very soul and you nearly melt into your chair. Even with half of her face covered by her breather, you knew she wasn’t happy about all the time being wasted.

“M-Ms.Glasc, I-” You have no clue what you’re trying to say. Are you trying to defend yourself from the mess? Ask her if this letter is real? You were trying to save yourself before you knew what you were saving yourself from.

“Back to work.” She says and everyone runs to their desks. She doesn’t take her eyes off you but walks forward and grabs the top of your chair. You squeak as she leans down to be level with you.

“Um, I- Got your… letter?” You stutter, lifting the letter to show her. Her eyes dart to it and back to you.

“Your answer?” Ms.Glasc asks. You swallow.

“Yes.” You say. She reaches up and there’s a soft hiss as her breather disengages. You think you stop breathing when you finally get to see her face. She’s gorgeous. Her lips curve up into a smirk that has your heart working overtime.

“Good girl.” She grips your chin, tilts your head back, and kisses you.

[galebrainrot2024]

Gale x Tav Enemies to Lovers Part IX/9

GAS!! Anyway, Part 9 Enemies to Lovers Gale POV

The memory of Tav falling replayed endlessly in his mind. Gale was unable to shake it - granted, it had only been a few days and even so it haunted him. Why did his brain insist on exhuming things he could not change?  He was overcome with guilt that he should have done more, could have done more. That he should have insisted in a back up plan or come up with one himself. How reckless it was, how he let his pride get in the way of sense. He thought of how he tended to her before she came to, only succumbing to sleep once his weary eyes could no longer be forced open out of sheer will. 

What a fool he was. 

Gale was reenacting the first moments when they arrived in the Underdark, seething over how blind he had been. He would never be anything more than a rival to Tav, an insufferable ego-manic, and Gale saw that clearly. Astarion wasn’t exactly being subtle. Yet Gale was unconvinced, his gut nagging him. Why had she looked to me though? Why would she bother to look for my reaction at all? 

He felt ashamed, embarrassed even for feeling the fingers of envy. He had no right to. And besides, Tav had yet to apologize. Gale still wanted an apology from her and thus, he squirreled himself away until it was time to move from their last camp. While they traveled, Wyll was busy talking Tav’s ear off so Gale was able to happily mosey behind, unworried about confrontation. Besides, talking to her with the rest of the companions present wouldn’t end well for anyone. The last thing this group needed was more drama. Between him and Tav, Lae’zel and Shadowheart, Astarion and, well, everyone else, he didn’t need to add fuel to the fire. 

Gale was preparing dinner, mid peel, when he heard her footsteps approaching him from behind. “Whatever it is you have to say to me can wait,” he said, his eyes not leaving the potato. “I’m not really interested in talking to you at the moment.” The air was cooler down there, like a crisp Autumnal air. 

He heard Tav’s footsteps stop. It made his chest tighten. Despite telling her he was not interested in talking with her, in fact not talking to her at all was driving him mad. Tav was all he could think about no matter how annoyed he was with her. 

“Fine. Goodnight.” He heard her say, her tone icy. 

He bit his tongue, still frozen in position and the silence piqued his curiosity. He didn’t hear her walk away. “You’re still here.” 

“I am.” 

“Hm. Curious, if you ask me, since you said ‘goodnight.’ If you’ve come here to grill me, I am not interested, and if you’re in need of grilling something might I suggest you start working on the fish.” He heard a soft laugh that sounded like she tried to catch it before it made a sound. His lips pulled up into a smile. Still, there was no sound of footsteps. “Have you come here to just lurk? Taking our trip to the Underdark a bit literally.” Another soft puff of air. His smile grew and he resumed peeling the potato. 

The foreign sounds of creatures cloaked the air, a sense of calm settling between the two of them. Gale continued to slowly and methodically peel the potatoes, inspecting each as he placed them in the pot, making commentary as he went. “Oh wow, I’ve never seen one with quite so many eyes!” and “You’re much mushier than I like, but it’ll be our secret.” And then, “My, you’re the smallest potato I’ve seen. I almost feel guilty cooking you. In you go, then.” 

“Are you still here?” Gale asked, although he knew the answer. The moment felt strangely comforting, more so even than the Weave. 

“I am.” 

“Have you got anything to say for yourself or shall I continue?” 

A grunt. More silence. And then finally a resigned and sincere, “Gale, I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness or grace, and I -“ he heard her swallow hard and pause. Her voice, though honest, was also tight as if she was unpracticed in the art of apology. 

“Difficult for you to apologize, is it?” 

He heard her sigh in annoyance, “I already apologized -“

“Ah,” Gale held up a finger but still did not turn around. “You apologized for saying a cruel thing, an apology does not equal forgiveness. I should know that better than anyone.” He sighed, grunting as he rose to his knees and finally turned to face her. Gale inhaled heavily when he looked at her, startled by how her skin glowed in the purple, unending night. “And then you proceeded to ignore me for close to a month. Without so much as an explanation. Hits a little too close to home for my taste. So, while you may have apologized for the first offense, you certainly did not for the second.” 

Gale’s eyes trailed from Tav’s eyes to her lips, to the way her body curved and then back to hers. Their breathing seemed to synch as they held their gaze. He watched Tav’s lips part before she looked away and pulled her hair back nervously. “It was childish, I know. I’m sorry, Gale. I really am. I just…” She closed her eyes and inhaled. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way, it wasn’t fair of me.” Tav turned her eyes to his again and Gale felt heat prick at his ears. Silence filled them until she cut it, “I also wanted to thank you for saving my life.” 

Gale paused, shaken. She couldn’t remember, could she? “Karlach saved your life.” He said, turning away to put the potatoes over the fire. “But, Thank you for your apology. Now, if you’ll excuse me - ” 

“That’s it?” Tav said, grabbing his arm. He felt a jolt shoot through him and cleared his throat, averting her gaze. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” 

Gale knew he would lose his resolve if he turned to look at her. He knew the next words were rile her up and still they came tumbling out, “What are you talking about?” 

She dropped his arm, her expression dark. “Unbelievable.” 

Gale sighed and caught her wrist as she went to turn. “You’re right - I’m sorry - I’m just feeling a little stung at the moment.” He saw Tav’s brow furrow and then her face floods with color. 

“That was nothing.” 

“It certainly didn’t look like nothing.” 

Tav glared at him. “What about you and Karlach?” 

Gale was unable to stop the instant laugh that bubbled out of him, “Karlach? Tav, surely you know her better than that -“ he paused and looked at her with a furrowed brow, “Don’t you? You know she likes-“

“SH!” Tav said, pressing her fingers against Gale’s lips. As soon as she did this Gale felt himself stop breathing. The feeling of her hand on hips lips ignited him, the spark licking through his blood like wildfire. He felt a rush of blood to his nether-region and tried to ignore the feeling. 

He took a deep breath and wrapped one of his hands around her wrist to bring her fingers away from his lips. He leaned down a bit towards her, his voice soft. “Ah, your point is moot. I may have locked myself away for a year, but I wasn’t born yesterday, I’m afriad. I’d rather you be honest with me instead of pretending as if you and he aren’t intimately spending time in one another’s company.” 

“Why would that be your business?” Tav asked and Gale’s eyes flicked down to see her lick her lips. He swallowed hard. 

“OOOO I knew I felt the fire cooking,” Karlach said and they both stepped back from each other quickly. Gale rubbed the back of his neck and looked around. She held up her hands and laughed, “Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt, but this meal won’t cook itself and I’m bloody tired. Please man, I’m famished.” Karlach rested on the ground by them, as if she meant to supervise Gale so he would stay true to his word. 

“Fair enough,” Gale chuckled and looked to Tav only to catch a soft, unreadable expression before returning to work. 

[indigos-stardust]

New Four swords fic- Chapter 1

*I'd appreciate if u read it on a03 because that's where my tag/summary is but if you cant for whatever reason, I have it below this cut* thanks for any boost and comment <3

Roaming packs of monsters, ugh.  Usually, monsters tend to be attracted or even magically appear from places with plenty of darker energy. It could be some cursed and abandoned temple or some pit where someone died horribly. Maybe, there’d just be one huge monster claiming an area and its magical stink would attract a bunch of underlings.

Monsters aren’t exactly pack animals like wolves. They just follow whichever one’s the biggest and act purely based on greed and violence. They’re happy to follow orders as long as they get their cut. Which is usually the promise of fresh flesh. 

The scouts said the monsters were following paths. On a schedule. Almost like they’re planning and guarding. That…isn’t right. Something is definitely up. 

The worst part of it is that a lot of the paths they’re taking seem to be cutting off a random average sized fishing village to the south. Lutelin Village. Yeah, Green can see why they had been specifically called to handle this one.

Whatever they’re going to eventually face, it’ll probably seem like even an experienced knight’s worst nightmare. But they can handle it. After all, they’d handled far more with far less. This time they even have armor! The odds are far more in favor since their… “adventure.” Green can’t help but fidget with his fingers anyways.

He’s probably just out of practice, sure they had helped fight against the general excess of monsters but that was just dealing with monsters sprawled out everywhere. Not a real proper fight with layers to get to the final baddie. His gut flares with a hidden anxiety. 

It’ll be alright though, the others are literally following his back, and as much as it sucks that those villagers are probably having a hard time with travelling due to the monsters- This will be good for them! Well, Green and his uh, other selves, anyways. Besides, why would you possibly want “rest and relaxation” when you can just crush the ugly mug of some monster?

Okay, maybe he is spending too much time with Blue.

Either way they definitely have better odds! They’ll just find each band (two or three?) and take them down, easy peasy. 

Every step is going to take him closer after all, might as well keep his shoulders straight and his eyes on the horizon.  

Soft grass and weeds dance in the foothills, with a chilly autumn air as their partner. As much as the others are way too gripey in the early morning, Green knows getting them up early is definitely the right call! The soft crispness of the morning air energizes him with every breath! Practically music, in his humble opinion. 

Behind him, he can hear another kind of music. A playful punch to the shoulder, a content sigh, and a little laugh. Conversation that starts and pauses, only to start again. In and out, natural and welcoming. They have his back. 

They finally stop at the top of a particularly large hill; this is the spot the scouters said they’d seen the monsters the most. If Green looks to the West, he can see the beginning treeline of a dark and confusing magic-filled Lost Woods. He shudders. From what Vio described about the woods, it definitely doesn’t seem like the ideal spot for a stroll. Compared to their “adventure” and all they’ve experienced, the next few days will be easyyyy. 

They’ve barely settled into their spot when Vio, ever the watchful one, already spots a band of monsters practically marching together. A very large band of very angry looking monsters. Nearly time to fight. A cliffside looms in the distance, with the monsters in between them and it. 

“I’d say, I think we’re dealing with about eight or so stalfoes, two spear moblins, oh you’ve got to be kidding me at least two dozen,” Green squints, “uh, tiny plant things?”

Strange little hobbling plant monsters, with sharp teeth and leaves coming from a single bud supported by two stumpy legs, covered the ground near the other monsters. 

“Tiny plant things?’”

=====

For a place full of nothing but rolling hills, Vio sure is having quite a bit of difficulty finding enough room to fight. It’s ridiculous honestly, he and Green were supposed to take care of the stalfoes by directly fighting against them. Meanwhile, Blue and Red were meant dealing with those pesky small monsters that keep trying to bite their ankles! Or jump into their faces. It’s a bit hard to fight several monsters just taller than you while dealing with a bunch of faces full of teeth trying to lunge at you, afterall.

Not to mention, once they finally get in semi-decent positions the moblins thrust their giant axes right in the middle and scatter everyone all over again! He can hear the annoying squish and splatter of Blue’s hammer smashing into another one. 

Red’s fire rod is great at helping to keep the moblins away, but while you would think it’d be great for its intended purpose of burning those DAMN little plants monsters- All it really does is make all the grass around them catch on fire, not harming the stalfoes, and force them to bolt to a patch of rocks while they’re being chased. Of course, the little abominations climb up the stalfoes to stay safe from the fire. Fighting on the bumpy ground only makes things worse in their favor. He really wishes the darn things would be the ones stumbling and struggling for balance instead of themselves.  

Wait… This is a far rockier area- He can feel the rattling bones hit his shield once more as he grunts to shove it off. They all need to be knocked down. With the bit of distance he looks around, and there . A pile of rocks, leading up to a cliff. The cliff is extremely uneven at the top, but there is just enough clear space for a person at the top! 

Perhaps, possibly, it had been a bit of a.. Risky endeavor. The second there’s the smallest opening, he yells out, “Watch out for a minute!” and bolts to the cliff side. Ignoring Blue’s very p*ssed off , “h-HEY! Where the Hell are you going?!!” and Green’s surprise as he keeps on running. Every thump of his feet pushing off the earth ringing in his ears. Or maybe that’s just his heartbeat.

Just as he’s starting to climb up he can hear the rattling of a stalfoe and feel the bruising pain of those small monsters trying to reach his flesh under the armor. I just need to keep going , he thinks as he finishes pushing himself up and begins scrambling  for a new foothold as he simultaneously tries to shake off the miniature snapping beasts. Good thing his ears are protected by the chainmail underneath his cap. 

The crash and shattering of bones with a string of swears behind him urge him to go even further up. When the battle’s over, Blue is probably going to get him next. He hadn’t sounded particularly pleased about Vio, “DITCHING THEM WITHOUT WARNING LIKE A B****H*SS,” or whatever. Despite his current height bringing him farther from the battle ground, he can practically hear Green shout, “ LANGUAGE!!” in the middle of battle.

Finally, just as he nears the top he manages to shake the last of those damn pests off his leg and let his heaving lungs rest, if only for a second. Right, this needs to be quick. Forcing himself up, still struggling to breathe from the chaotic climb, Vio readies his bow. 

While the experience of fighting various types of monsters, for hours on their own, certainly gave them a lot of skill in adapting to the situation he has to admit—the items they gained, namely his fairy blessed bag of endless arrows, are also a huge plus. Sure, they aren’t as strong as a well crafted bow, but they are endless . In fact, he’d figured out that if he shoots two at once, even if that took a while to master, it’d do the same amount of damage!

He smirks to himself, aiming straight at a stalfoes that is creeping behind Green. With a snap, the stalfoe falls to the ground. The chaos of the battle field, swarming the others with monsters, moving from place to place… it’s familiar; it is a refreshing challenge. Others might’ve balked at the daunting task, but Vio is looking forward to it. It’s time to show off.

With the constant barrage of arrows knocking out stalfoes, allowing Red and Blue more room to work with and giving Green a much needed relief , the numbers begin to thin. He’s even able to start getting hits on the charging moblins, stunning them just long enough for a quick burn or slash on them. There are only a few straggling plant monsters as well. 

It’s wrapping up. Vio observes as the Moblin he shot finally falls to the ground. It is time to regroup. Or it would’ve been. 

He doesn’t know what he feels first. He can’t even think to process it. The tension of every single muscle spasming. Millions of needles endlessly searing into his flesh. From the inside and outside. Little pieces of him, like miniature marbles bursting outward. The shock of the constant repeated force fracturing and fracturing. The burning in his chest, he can’t breathe. 

It’s so, so much, it’s too much. Without a single thought, other than the sensation of indescribable pain, he falls silently down the cliff. Even as his body crashes down onto the unforgiving rocks it still spasms. Red screams before Blue and Green even see what happened.

—--------------------------------

I can’t! No, no, no, no, no, no!!!! Red can’t panic right now, but by Hylia does he want to scream and selfishly look away-

It was horrible, and he saw every second of it. He had stepped back for just a moment, to chug a magic energizing potion. They still had more monsters to fight, after all, and his magic stores were nearly drained from using the rod so much. But then he saw a spark to his right, all the way up where Vio had gone. A sparkling, bright white yellow light, blasting into Vio’s back. Now, he watches.  

Vio looks like he’s choking, like every single bit of him was choking and dying . His piercing scream is silently cut off, and then he falls . He falls and falls until his back hits the rocks and he goes stumbling down, blood splattering against the rocks. Red doesn’t want to know where it’s all coming from. And then Vio is there, sprawled on the ground, a horrible finale. He’s still screaming. 

No, no Vio isn’t the one who’s screaming. He can see his bloody face against the dirt. Red is. 

Blue grabs his arm, nearly shaking him as he tells him to LOOK before he runs off to Vio. Red’s shaking, then he follows Green’s startled eyes they lead back to the top of the cliff. He can only stare as a hulking Darknut trudges behind a row of stubby moblin archers, and even more stalfoes that have already begun jumping off to attack them. Oh, and a bunch of tektites. Because, well, why not at this point?

 Red usually tries to stay optimistic, because you can’t get anything done if you always have a bad attitude all the time for no reason but- Honestly? He’s pretty sure he hates EVERYTHING right now. It’s, it’s alright though- They, they’ve got him- Well, well they all would if Vio was down. But, it isn’t the time to focus on that, they have to keep them away from Vio and defeat them! 

Just because he’s terrified that Vio could be dying this very second, doesn’t mean he can just start crying when they need him! He will go on, and he will be hopeful! Because Green and Blue need him, and they trust him to at least support them! Red refuses to let them down. Even if he really wants to go cry in a hole right now. 

Green screams at Blue, “ DON’T MOVE HIM! We need to get them away from him, Red get here and create a blast! Cut them off!”

Red’s already sprinting. Blue’s hammer smashes into another stunned skull from Green’s boomerang. They’re working to get the monsters away from Vio. The second he arrives the entire earth THUDS as the colossal Darknut finally joins the battle. It’s beady eyes, under its helmet land on Red. 

“HEYYYY!!!, come here you, uh, you ugly face!!!” The monster trudges forward, away from Vio and towards him. The Colossal Axe glistens, ready to slice into him in seconds. 

“Yeahh!” Red waves his fire rod, sparkling in the burning sunlight, like a shiny fish in front of a starved beast. “Come here!!!”

The axe whizzes through the air with the speed of a bolt of lightning, ready to spear him into two. Red barely dodges. Before the monstrosity can take an even more petrifying swing, Green’s magical boomerang connects. The powerful thing freezes the beast for a valuable 5 seconds. 

Within those 5 seconds a few things happen. A small series of whistles rings throughout the battle field within seconds, a code that only they know.  During their quest, they had learned that just yelling out to each other with their own plans always ended up poorly. Maybe, they were all just too stubborn in their own plans, but it definitely wasn’t helped by the fact they could barely hear each other at times. Sensitive Hylian ears or not, in the midst of battles words become drowned out easily. 

Green’s message, a mix of quick patterns, order: B-G- Core Threats & Close Combat- R- Long Distance Quick. Blue and Green would take care of the strongest enemies and the ones that required close combat. Red would take care of the archers,as fast as possible so he could provide them aid. He could run and prepare ahead just on instinct before he even processed it. It was a mercy, afterall… Every second in a battle is precious, especially with someone left in total vulnerability. 

Red breathes in, the blins are readying their bows.  Then exhales, a small yet vicious blast of fire spirals forward causing at least two of them to shriek as they desperately try to put themselves out. His shield is already out by the time the other three’s arrows have hit his shield. As much as Red would prefer to shoot more and scorch them while going in and out, that just wasn’t an option. The best way to stop them from shooting far out into the others, was to get in the way before they could do that. 

Red forces his way through with his shield to break their line and immediately his sword lunges straight into the throat of one of those wretched things. He has to take care of the other monsters, but Red let’s himself smile a moment at the sign of the bubbling blood. Good . He hoped that was the one that shot Vio. 

He has to dodge back quickly in the next moment though, despite the moblins having nothing but bows and arrows, that didn’t make them useless in the slightest. While the armor would definitely protect him from slashes it certainly wouldn’t protect him from their nasty claws aiming at his throat and eyes. 

He hacks away at another one that leapt out in front of him before he even got the chance to orient himself. Keep it steady, keep the pace and breathe. Red tries to slash at one of the monster’s belly, but he’s off balance by one of the burnt ones slashing at his leg! I really need to do better!! Red mentally slapped himself, how’d that one even get there? He seriously needed to keep track of everything or else he’d be hit in his blind spot again. Next time may not be so lucky. His free foot crushes the bastard's neck as he blocks more scrabbling claws away with his shield. 

Red is skewering the one that he had shoved off when he sees the two remaining unburnt monsters dashing toward him with arrows in their hands. What the hell? Oh, the arrows were sparkling yellow with the same crackling sound as a bomb about to burst. It was familiar. Vio . 

All three are charging and from the looks of it they’re trying to trap him with two heading up to his sides and the first one straight in front of him. Red charges right back at the right one bashing into it’s skull with his sword and spinning around, sword first, to face the others. It’s BURNING-  

His sword clumsily sliced into an arm, but the arrows- Those arrows, the moment of contact of it against his own sword make his arm convulse in pain as he yells out. Red’s sword is on the ground. The monster, reeling from its own pain, slashes back at him. Thankfully his armor prevents it from truly getting him. It’ll definitely bruise though. The pain threatens to bring him down, but gasping for air with teary eyes he forces his wobbly legs up anyways. Like the lightning wizzrobe- This doesn’t make sense- Oh great fairies please-

Red knows the dangers of magical exhaustion, he’d lived through it several times on their quest. Vio’s words echoed in his mind, “ Take care to not overdo it! Potions may provide a great boost and aid in recovery, but your body still needs time. You’re exhausted… Green was right about how dangerous it is, besides-” and then Vio softly grinned, “ If you’re too tired who’s going to keep us going? We need your laughter, alright?”

He can already feel the aching soreness creeping on the edge of his fingers. He grabs the rod anyways, and this time there’s a blast. Red doesn’t know quite how it’s happening, but the strange arrows seem to make the flames stronger. They topple onto the Earth and the last half-dead burnt straggler has finished crawling its way to him. Red’s sword in his uninjured hand stabs into the beast’s guts with a wet sound. It dies slowly, scraping at his feet desperate to fight until it's inevitable death. Then, just like the others it rapidly deteriorates into a puddle of steaming filth on the ground. 

[hajihiko]

I got stomach ache so here’s my prompt romp-t question for ya

Who be the one going “I’m so brave cuz I’m not telling anyone about my stomach ache” and who be the other side of the coin going “help me my stomach burns a thousand suns and it’ll eclipse with a shit storm soon”

May I mention that I took night quill as well so the droze might be kicking in

So brave: Fuyuhiko. Gutted himself like a fish and then told people to stop overreacting. Was trying to break open doors with the stitches still in. Tried to keep lactose intolerance a secret and definitely tried to drink milk for the bones way too often. Suffering in silence is basically his middle name and that includes tummyaches, internal or external.

Please help: Ibuki. Hear me out; Hiyoko is a baby about tummyaches but not so crass, and might try to hide it like she hid her lack of bathing. Nekomaru IS crass and does loudly announce when someone should Not Go In There (the WC) for a while because he destroyed it. But he can take care of his own gut flora and doesn't need help.

Ibuki, WHEN afflicted, does in fact go somewhere like "Ibukis stomach is like a boiling pot of milk that no one's watching! IT'S GONNA OVERFLOW, and SOON!!! SOMEONE DO SOMETHING"

[mimiriko]

thinking about swimming in the ocean alone at night and meeting merman!geto, when you’re far enough from the shore that your feet dont touch the ground. a guilty pleasure, not a soul knows where you are submerged in cool waters.

and you’re used to feeling tingles of passing fishes, sometimes rocks and plastic brushing against your legs from the waves. nothing scares you. its an odd sentiment, but you feel at home. with tiny life around your feet, continuing whatever they were doing and accepting you as a part of their system.

but then, you see it— a dark outline in the waters. drawing up alarmingly close to you and you hold your breath. the moonlight shows nothing more than a shadow stagnant meters in front of you. you’re not prepared, empty handed and floating helplessly. a beat passes, a wave forms in the distance, and when it crashes, it leaves.

the next day, it comes again. a little closer, but that seemed to be an accident because it goes back to the same place. the movement of water makes it hard to find its eyes, but you’re sure its looking at you—a gut instinct.

a startling screech from a seagull echos and it’s gone once again.

and the cycle continues. a new addition to your small family under the sea, and you dont know what to feel. scared? strangely, not even in the slightest. there’s another feeling, but you rather not come to terms with it; it’ll only heighten your hunger for adventure.

the distance grows smaller by an inch everyday. it gets bolder, swims and skirts around a bubble it’s limiting itself to. but it’s enough for you to see scales gleaming under the stars. a pretty ombré of royal blue to mulberry, a glossy shine covering it. marred by black scars, scraps littered across the surface— but the strength, the vigor it has in its movements shows that they are victory marks.

but what really gets your heart to stop, blood gushing in your ears and your eyes bulging is the skin divided from the scales. human skin, porcelain human skin.

it comes nearer and you make no move to turn the other way, to flail and run to the shore because the scales you saw was on a tail, and the skin above was a stomach and chest scarily similar to a males’.

it—he? stays beneath the surface, long ebony hair flowing gracefully around his face, features still a little blurry.

and then, he comes up.

everything is sharpened, completely bare without a barrier between you. inky, hauntingly beautiful eyes swallow you whole, slick hair clinging to his head with just the tips still underwater. ghost white skin, wet and awfully smooth.

a fallen star in a bottomless ocean.

“it’s cold in the water this time of year, human. much too cold for you to be here.”

it’s talking.

the temperature drops with his words, and the bite of winter hits you hard out of nowhere. “‘s nothing i can’t handle.”

he hums, low and laced with silk. “and yet you’re shivering.” he points out, the ends of his lips curving upwards.

a shaky breath betrays you, the vapor fizzling out in front of him. his words are jumbling in your head and you’re blanking out. “you’ve been watching me for months, now you notice?”

“i was deciding,” he pauses, “if i should show myself.”

his words hang in the air. you feel overwhelmed, flooded with the implications. like a slap to your face, your wonder for him disappeared.

you’ve meet an unknown creature. a creature identical to myths, a upper half sculpted similar to a human and the lower half thinning out to form a tail.

and it can harm you, kill you— snatch your soul quietly while you’re still in his territory. your parents won’t ever recover, they’ll blame themselves for your adventures, won’t ever look at the ocean the same again. friends will whisper your ending until parents pull their children away from lakes, ponds, seas because your blood is spilled, and no one knows how.

no one will ever know that the myths are real, and they are as curious of the world above as we are of the world underneath.

“why did you?” you whisper, barely audible over the rippling waves. a delicate question, three words but it can uncover everything.

the silence that followed you couldn’t process. waiting for him to say something so that muddled (embarrassed?) look on his face can disappear. your fingers start to feel pruny, and your legs feel sore all over.

just when you muster a thought to swim back, a chance to put this encounter behind you, hitting the bed and to just forget— his jaw clenches.

“tired of seeing nothing but legs, at least i have a face to put on them now.”

with a huff and an oddly immature splash of his tail, he dives back underneath.

you’re too dazed to have seen the red on his ears, a shy wiggle of his tail.

(he’s never met a human before.)

[nero-vanderwolf]

It gets late as they sit there on that riverbank, Yu holding him close and whispering to him in a desperate attempt to help them both calm down.

Yosuke is crying so much he’s hiccuping, clinging to Yu so hard he knows it’ll leave bruises later but can’t find it in himself to care.

“Partner...” Yu whispers, and Yosuke breaks down again.

“I wanted to die, Yu. I wanted to feel myself die, I wanted to know what it’d be like-”

Yu cups one of Yosuke’s cheeks with a warm hand, grey eyes glittering with something Yosuke can’t quite place.

“I understand. I wanted the same things, not too long ago.”

His voice is soft, and Yosuke is wracking his brain to try and place a time when Yu would want to die.

Yu supplies it, holding Yosuke gently.

“When I went into the TV by myself. Adachi almost shot me. He deliberately missed, I’m sure of it. He... changed. I can’t place how but he did. And- I remember, when he was pointing the gun at me and the window behind me was shattered and there was murder in his eyes, wishing he hadn’t missed. I remember wishing that he had had the guts to actually shoot me, to kill me then and there. I remember wishing that everything would just end.”

Yosuke, for the second time, feels a gross, awful twist in his gut like someone’s twisting his own kunai into his stomach.

“I cried so hard I threw up that night. It... Was the worst feeling of my life. I had lived, but I wished I hadn’t.”

And it’s exactly how Yosuke feels now. He wishes Yu had stayed on top of the cliff, he wishes the water had swept him off somewhere, or dragged him to the bottom to have his flesh and bone rot and feed the fish that swum there.

He wishes he had died on the way down, or died somewhere else.

He wished he had died.

“I almost did what you just did. I almost jumped.”

Yosuke wants to throw up. He wants to tear himself apart, slowly, to watch his blood be soaked into the earth that needs it more, deserves it more, than his foolish, useless self.

“What stopped you?” He finds himself asking.

What stopped Yu from ending up where he is now, where he wishes he had ended up.

Yu smiles thinly. “I was cold.”

“You were cold?”

Yu nods. “I went home to get a coat and didn’t come back. I figured if I was human enough to be bothered by something like the cold, or the sheerness of the drop, then I was human enough to live.”

Human enough to be bothered by the cold.

“I’m freezing my ass off,” he says intelligently, and Yu smiles like he just offered him the moon.

“Let’s go home, then, and put you in warmer clothes.”

Somewhere in Inaba, bundled up in blankets and warm pyjamas with warm tea in his hands, Yosuke Hanamura was bothered by the cold.

MAV IM GOING TO CRY ACTUALLY I JUST WANT THEM TO BE HAPPY MY GODDDD SIDJNDJFNFNFJ THE FUCKING EMOTIONS IM GLITKTKRJRJFNT GIFHFFUFKING SLEXLDOIJIJGN

[1dontc4re]

Aaaaaahhhh so Jacob took over my mind for a little bit and it possessed me to write something. This is just me trying to get into the mindset of my MC (self-insert)

Nnnhggggg 🅱️lease be nice to me I haven’t written anything like this in a while. Babygworl set the fires of inspiration ablaze lmaoooo. I’ll try to add a read more on here but I’m on mobile so who knows if it’ll work or not

She’s not stupid. She knows something’s wrong with Jacob. Very wrong. She can feel the hairs at the back of her neck raise a little bit when he looks at her a certain way. She felt it at the park, when she caught him sneaking pictures of her; she felt it when he stood at her doorway for longer than necessary. But then she talks to him, she listens to him, and she can feel that he’s hurt, lonely. She is too. Wouldn’t it be better for the long run if they could be friends? (Maybe more). It’s not like she has anyone else, not around here anyway. This new job pulled her from everything she’s ever known, but damn if she was gonna let that get in her way of a better future. She could call her auntie, but she’s all the way in Virginia. Maybe her mum’s friend? She’s in Texas. Too bad she’s terribly exhausted with a new baby, a useless husband and not one, but two massive german shepherds. Besides, it’s not like they’re particularly close, they’ve barely even talked.

Would it be so bad? To give him a little bit of her time? She’s been to his house, stayed the night even, and nothing happened. It helps that he’s such a good cook. The salmon and cookies were to die for. And he’s not bad on the eyes, either. His eyes are green, intense. He’s got a cute little crooked smile. And his body, well. It’s warm, for starters, cosy. Muscular but not overly so, and with a little bit of chub that makes it even more enticing. It’s like it’s urging her to lean in and never let go. He gushed about his pet fish and she couldn’t help but be reminded of her dad, it’s achingly familiar (Freud might have something to say about that.) Not to mention, a southern drawl is hard to resist for a budding linguist like her.

But the way he looks at her, God. That’s the worst (best?) part. No one ever bothered to look at her, not before. Back home she was another girl of the lot. Too quiet, too much of a smart-arse with a chip on her shoulder for anyone to give her a second glance, least of all with the kind of attention she was yearning for. All the romance in her life at that point came from her books, her movies, her games. She felt so fucking sure that it was something out of her reach. Other, more likeable people got romanced, not her. And however more likeable she made herself for others, it was still never going to happen. But he, he stares at her and it’s like it’s physically impossible for him to turn away. Like she’s the only person in the world he would want to look at. He defended her against that cunt Austin. No one’s ever been willing to fight for her before.

Is this going to quickly? Is this going too fast? He put some tunes on and they’d slow danced. He was so nervous about it too, trying so hard not to fuck this up. No one’s ever tried for her before. He held her in his arms and she could feel something at the back of her head, something deep in her gut, yelling at her to get away, to get the fuck out. But her little broken heart wondered, would it be so bad to be wanted like this? To be wanted by him? Maybe, she thought, this is as good as it’s going to get.

[milogreer]

blake 🤗

rubs hands together like a supervillain. ↳ send me a character!

My first impression: BASTARD. i’ll kill you. get away from sunshine and bestie or i swear to god i’ll gut you like a fish you FREAK. etc LMAO i remember first listening to his confession audio and going to courtney like “he has been talking my fucking ear off for what feels like three hours!!!” 😭😭 he somehow managed to ride the line of annoying dickhead and actually scary villain and i absolutely couldn't stand him

My impression now: oh my god i have not been this brand of obsessed with a character in years. like. he is in my head CONSTANTLY, i’ve listened to the balance three times and i’m considering a fourth, i have at least two more rambles about him/bestie to post, he’s got the longest playlist out of all my redacted playlists. if he had merch i think i’d go broke. it’s brutal man i want him back so badly. i miss that freak.

A favorite thing: the devotion !!!! say what you will about his methods and i’ll likely agree with you but oh my god his devotion … to see the person you love the most die in your arms over and over again no matter what you do to change it and be so wrecked by it that you get involved with a cult trying to contact ancient gods for just the CHANCE to maybe save them. doing unimaginable things in your pursuit to keep them safe. to be so obsessively in love that it makes you delusionally cocky enough to look the god who just said they shaped your reality in the face and say “i’ll do whatever you need, as long as you save my love.” he's CRAZY

Least favorite thing: he is so fucking stupid LMFAO. like it’s a fantastic character trait to be so blinded to reality because he’s got tunnel vision but you can’t help but be like what the FUCK are you DOING when he does shit like dropping the ward to kill himself via shade so he can do exactly what brachium said not to. truly the guy in a horror movie you yell at for doing something so inconceivably stupid to push the plot forward and i wanna strangle him for it sometimes

Favorite line/scene: sigh … the last scene in “falling for your yandere childhood friend” … the switch on “i won’t be able to give you space” ?? COME ON. it made me sick on my first listen but now it makes me sick in the opposite direction 🫣 ughhh that scene is just so good because it’s really easy imo to go through this audio out of context of the balance overall and trick yourself into thinking like, oh, he’s just kind of a guy. aww. and then it switches and it’s like HUH?? “the things i think about you, how much i want you, it’s the stuff you’re not supposed to say out loud” + “if you pick this, it’ll be all of me - and we both know a lot of that’s not pretty” ?? oh it is so delicious.

Favorite interaction that character has with another: :modcheck: “looking for answers with your dreamwalker boyfriend” when he comes in to talk to elliott and sunshine 😫 i’m such a sucker for condescension and it just oozes out of him here. the patronizing little hums after “can i call you eli?” and “that deathwalker friend of yours really left you out to dry, huh?” and “but don’t worry. i’m sure he’s very proud of you.” >>>

A character that I wish that character would interact with more: I WANTED BRACHIUM TO BEAT HIM UP i’m so disappointed he didn’t get to feel brachium’s wrath bc he deserved to after putting sunshine and elliott through all that bullshit. i hope they face off again eventually somehow

A headcanon: when he turned 18 him and bestie went and got little tattoos out of one of those roulette/mystery egg machines. i haven’t decided what they got or where yet though because i’m too indecisive! he also has a snake tattoo like this :)

A song: I HAVE SO MANY. but the one that kicked off my blake obsession is explode by mother mother so it’ll always be one of the most important ones 💘

An unpopular opinion: kind of suggestive so i won’t Get Into It but i don’t think he’s as dominant as perhaps he would seem to be … i’ve been really back and forth on this though so don’t quote me here