#just got burnt out from working on an animation final ����

[clownowo]

been replaying the Portal series I think this is where its heading

[fairlyabookie]

the things you do that got them head over heads (pt. 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

Jade - accompanying him on a hike

The evening skies, a perfect shade of violet and pink, heralded the time to hike. Classes, lengthy lectures completed with more homework, had finally concluded and so, with a simple trot over to the premises outside of campus, Jade’s club activities officially started. You wanted to tag along, wanting to get a change of pace outside of class - besides, you were getting burnt out from studying your butt off for exams. Being the gentleman that he was, Jade agreed to your wishes, allowing you to come along as you wished.

Matter of fact, he was quite excited when you approached him to go hiking with him. He had to withhold every urge he had to tell you the many routes he goes for his hiking activities. With a small smile, he offers his equipment and a journal of the flora he had encountered on his travels, another journal for the mushrooms - don’t ask.

Jade would gladly indulge your curiosities, already answering the questions you have in mind about the surrounding nature. He practically memorized each form of life from his hikes, saying a factoid or two and consulting his journal to point out his observations about it - he might’ve consumed one or two just to taste-test.. As he explained every detail of his travels, he caught a glimpse of your attentive gaze, a tender smile on your lips as you listened. His words faltered for a moment as he found himself lost in those beautiful eyes.

“Mm, were you saying something, Jade?” You perk an eyebrow. A quizzical look replaces Jade’s expression, his cheeks are colored a peony-pink. He turns around, clearing his throat to recover his demeanor. You totally didn’t see him staring. “I’m alright, [Reader]. Let’s continue on.” He offers an arm, fixing his gaze on the path ahead of you.

Silver - waking him up

Slumber lay upon Silver like a heavy blanket, a canopy of pleasant dreams flickering in his vision as a gentle wind tussles his locks. He opens his eyes, his vision alight with colors of spring, floral scents of blooming flowers drift along, as the heavy veil of sweet dreams lifts from Silver’s mind.

He sees the sky opening up to him, the beautiful blue sight for sore eyes. The lunch hour was the perfect time to nap, where he isn’t scolded by Sebek for showing poor decorum or Riddle for neglecting his club duties. A yawn escapes from his lips, the remnants of sleep lingering in his body. A chuckle startles him from his stupor. Of course, you were waiting for him to wake up.

As if on cue, the critters and birds surrounding the second year disperse, their departure an official conclusion to his daytime slumber. You stifle a chuckle, a childish thought passing your mind as you witness the exodus of animals taking their leave.

“Did you sleep well, Sleepyhead?” An affectionate smile cross your lips as you offer a hand for your classmate. It was hard not to ignore the thump on his chest as he pulls himself up. “It was very restful.” He replies simply, stretching out fatigued muscles and knots on his body.

Jamil - insisting him to rest up

Working was second nature to Jamil - the second he gets up from his bed, a million things come to mind. A break means nothing to him as soon as he proceeds with his routine, from waking Kalim up to preparing meals for the dorm - he had no time to commit to himself save for a meal or two. When you catch a busy Jamil in the middle of cleaning up, you have to force him to stop.

Jamil’s thoughts screech to a halt as you place yourself in front of Jamil, a firm grip on his hands. Your lips form a pout, one he saw too often from his little sister, but one that meant business to his apparent dilemma. Guess I’ll have to go through this before I do anything, the second year thinks to himself, bracing the inevitable as you take him to an empty seat by the common room.

From that point on, you placed a ban on Jamil not to enter the kitchen under any circumstance - that fed wonderfully to his paranoia. You were very adamant about this, even throwing glares his way to ensure that he didn’t move from his seat. A few moments later, you emerge from the kitchen, along with the residents, a meal palette befitting of a king and a couple of self-care supplies.

A stunned Jamil watches you tend to him, reclining his seat back where he sees you work your magic. The others, now in the absence of Jamil’s usual machinations, reigned in the kitchen - with Kalim in tow - as they set the dorm for a feast, even providing a portion for Jamil when you finish up with him. “You are to rest, Mr. Viper. An hour of rest shouldn’t bother you, no?” A teasing smile from you was enough to shut him up - did he have a weak spot for you already?* He says nothing, letting you work the treatment befitting of a king.

Kalim - inviting him to your very own party

Kalim had a penchant for parties, and boy, does he know how to throw one. His skills as a capable host would more or less impress those who came by; their expressions a blend of excitement, eagerness, and surprise when he shows them hospitality befitting of a king.

Of course, a party always meant a change of pace, somewhere one could unwind and relax, somewhere where they could detach themselves from reality. Alas, a party could last for so long and happen occasionally - too much would do terrible on the mind, and he certainly didn’t want to accidentally upset folks by doing more parties.

You, on the other hand, approached him with an invitation: an invitation to your humble home at Ramshackle Dorm for a small hang-out with friends. A simple hang-out, nothing bombastic, nothing too extravagant; a quaint get-together between friends, coupled with games, entertainment, and snacks for everyone.

To say he was touched was an understatement of his feelings when he came to your party. Here, he was bonding time with friends and just having a good time. Kalim reaches out to you with a hug, “Thank you, thank you, [Reader]!” You reciprocate the hug with a sweet smile. “It’s really no biggie, Kalim. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself here.”

author's note: I played with too many ideas with these concepts; spare sanity. joking aside, I hope you enjoyed these, and please feel free to share, like, and comment!

[mossangelll]

Yandere!Jinx x Reader

🔧Sore Spot🔧 tw: toxic behaviour, threats of violence

i view this as a kind of continuation from my headcanon which you can read here! sorry for any tense changes/awkward writing but hopefully you can enjoy it!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Silco and Sevika had a relatively peaceful day. There was no Jinx to chase after or stop from testing out her glitter explosives on unsuspecting henchmen. Their suspicion lessened as time went on - it seemed like she was genuinely preoccupied with something other than causing mayhem. The reason?

You.

She had invited you to visit her workshop a week ago and you were finally coming over. She had to make sure that everything was perfect for your arrival, not a single thing could be out of place.

A fairly ridiculous amount of fairy lights? Check.

Soft pillows from stuck up Pilties with far too much money than they needed? Check.

A playlist full of you and Jinx’s favourite songs? Check.

Everything was ready. All she had to do was wait. She sighed and wrote both of your names together like a lovesick puppy. You were all she thought and dreamt about. You were her reason for living. Plus, she couldn’t let such a sweet, innocent person like you fend for themselves in the Lanes. That was just asking for trouble.

She was the only one who could protect you from the monsters out there who cared for nobody but themselves. Not your stupid partner. Definitely not them.

She gagged at the idea of the two of you cuddled together on your couch, talking about dumb things like work or dinner. Boring! Jinx was so much more interesting than them, she just had to open your eyes and make you see the truth.

Still, your partner got to hold you in the cold weather, smell your hair in the early morning, kiss your soft lips in the dark of night. Who knows how much of your body that disgusting creature has touched.

Her jaw clenched and her hands twitched. She couldn’t stomach the idea of anyone but her getting to see you at your most vulnerable. The image of them getting to bask in your presence, be intimate with you in a way that she can only hope to be blessed with made acrid bitterness climb up her throat: you were hers, nobody else’s! In the blink of an eye her hands were wrapped around the cool handle of her gun.

Pow. Her mauve lips formed an ‘O’ as she blew imaginary smoke. One shot was all she needed. One teeny tiny bullet stood between her and the life she had only dreamt about with you. A piece of cake.

“Jinx?” A soft voice questioned from behind her.

Her hands dropped the gun like she was burnt. Then she twirled around to see you, stood shyly at the entrance of her workshop. Her delicate, sweet mouse waiting all pretty just for her. Whipping her goggles off, she gawked at your presence, almost as if she couldn’t believe that you were really, truly there. In her space. Just thinking of your smell mingling with hers made a violent blush overcome her cheeks before she jumped up and ran into your arms, clinging onto you as if you could disappear at any second.

“Toots! Ya’ made it! Almost had me worried you weren’t gonna make it for a sec.” her muffled voice spoke into your shirt. She could stay like this forever and die a happy woman. Your chuckles reverberated from the hollow of your chest before you pulled back and smiled at your new blue haired friend.

“Of course I was going to show up, you promised to show me where the magic happens!” You smirked at Jinx as you started to play with her long pigtails, swishing them up and down. Before she could lament the loss of your heat, you launched into an animated tirade about the new book you were reading - of course, Jinx already knew everything about it. She followed you back home every single night. It was her duty to ensure that you were safe and sound. God knows what she would do if something awful happened to you when she should have been keeping watch.

Shimmer-pink eyes watched you survey her workshop with avid curiosity; too enraptured to blink, she didn’t want to miss a single moment. When she had gotten her fill, her sight changed target to your outfit - so put together. A twinge of insecurity struck her heart. Were you judging the clothes she wore, thinking she could never compare to your partner? She only ever wanted to impress you.

You turned around when you noticed Jinx was being uncharacteristically quiet, just in time to catch her sulking and kicking her boots and the metal floor.

She looked up once your footsteps stopped in front of her. She was worrying her lips between her teeth, trying to find the right tone between bravado and shame but being unable to sound anything but doubtful.

“Dressed up real nice aren’t ya’, toots,” she peered back down and her scuffed boots, “hope my outfit isn’t putting you off.” Although she tried to sound casual she just couldn’t make it work. After all, she was anything but casual when it came to you.

A part of her wanted was to scream your name from the top of a mountain and hope you followed the sound of her voice.

Another part, a sick, festering, ugly part of her wanted to keep you down here. Tied up and unable to leave. She fantasised of your existence reduced to being nothing more than her darling, nobody would be able to take you from her.

“Oh, this?” looking to yourself in surprise, “It’s for my date with my partner later, that’s why I’m more dressed up than usual. Don’t wo-“ Before you could finish comforting Jinx, she reached out to grab the wrist currently stroking her arm.

Her grip, strong enough to cause a bruise, made you let out a gasp whilst you looked on in horror. The Jinx you knew was bubbly, excitable and spontaneous but right now, it felt like looking into the eyes of a stranger.

“Oh, a date with your lover, huh?” She snarled, all sharp teeth and spit, a predator ready to sink her claws in and attack. Her grip tightened impossibly as you tried to back away, tried to silently plead with the friend you were starting to understand less and less.

“Can’t believe you put up with someone like that, I mean, hello! They left ya’ to sit alone in some shady bar! I was the one that made you feel better, not them!” Jinx’s chest was heaving with passion, why was it so hard for anyone to just appreciate what she does?

You took a few more steps back in the twisted dance you had started with Jinx. You were stuck between Jinx’s overwhelming heat and the railing; there was nowhere else for you to flee to - you were trapped and too close to the edge for your comfort.

“J-jinx. I think I should go.” You whispered, staring into the black abyss beneath her workshop. If you fell, how long would it take until you reached the bottom? You winced at the thought. Clearly, that was the wrong move as you seemed to add more kindling to her ever growing fire.

“GO? You’re just like all the others you fucking liar! Leaving me while you chase better things.” She was a woman scorned; how could she be so fooled by you? Thinking that the two of you could actually have a happy ending?!

Her outburst caused you to whimper and, as if you were on autopilot, your free hand clapped around your mouth to silence them. Whether it was in shame of not being able to stand up for yourself or to not further provoke her wrath, you didn’t know.

Jinx could feel you shaking, each tremble making her feel nauseous. Within a split second her demeanour changed from angry to desolate. You watched on in confusion - what was happening to her?

“You don’t want me around, do you? I’m just a-a nothing you use until you get to see your partner.” She spat out in between sobs that were wracking her slender frame. Just a second ago, your body was flooded with fear and adrenaline and now all that remained was worry.

You had no clue where she was getting these ideas from. She was your friend, a new but dear one nonetheless and you would never even think about using her like that. You enjoyed the time you spent together, for god’s sake!

“And now I’ve fucked up by hurting the one person that actually means something to me.” Jinx wailed as your eyes widened in shock at her admission - you meant that much to her?

You knew from the little tidbits Jinx accidentally let slip that she had a rough childhood to say the least. You just didn’t have the mind to realise her troubles ran so deeply and she was in need of a shoulder to cry on.

“Hey, hey,” reaching a hand to Jinx you cupped her cheek, “You’re honestly one of the best people I know. Hell, you were there for me at my lowest moment.”

She looked up at you, eyes wide and bleary. The arm gripping onto went limp as all the fire left her eyes and left behind a child, lonely and scared of abandonment.

“Ya mean that, toots? Really?” her voice cracked pathetically and you felt tears well up in your eyes.

It was silent for a precious moment. You couldn’t leave a good friend like her to suffer on her own, could you?

“Yeah,” you smiled shakily, “I do. I’ll cancel my date - we can have a special night together, just us two.”

Cautiously, like approaching a wild animal, you pulled her into another hug. This one all encompassing as if you were trying to say “I’m sorry for letting you down.” The two of you stayed that way for what felt like hours, kept in near silence except for the occasional sob or sniffle.

Finally, Jinx pulled away rubbing at her eye. You couldn’t help but giggle at her face - it was streaky with mascara and eyeliner. Before she had the chance to get self-conscience again, you licked the palm of your hand and rubbed away at the mess of her cheeks.

“There,” you booped her nose, “All sorted. Happy now?”

She broke out into a grin, her cheeks dusted with pink and eyes watery, this time in pure awe of you. Looking at the care in your eyes, the gentle way you carried yourself no matter what she did - she knew you were the one.

“Sooo,” Jinx began with a breathless, self-deprecating chuckle, “I might have ruined our day but I have a gift for you.”

She skipped over to her workbench, rooting through the piles of paper before returning to you with a little device - one with an odd flashing light.

“It’s something I cooked up that you can fidget with, I remember ya’ telling me your hands were always restless.” The smile on her face was so warm and genuine you wouldn’t comprehend she was the same person raving at you mere minutes earlier.

You took the device so you could inspect it at all angles, turning it this way and that to fully take in the careful craftsmanship. It was painted all over with blue and pink doodles, some of them crudely resembling you and Jinx holding hands.

“I love it! Thank you so much! But, what’s that light for?” You questioned with a wrinkled brow. You loved hearing all the thought Jinx put into her gadgets.

It seemed as if her eyes widened in shock but her usual, cheshire grin was pasted onto her face with such speed that you must have imagined it. She tapped the side of her nose, “Ah, that’s a secret of the trade.”

You rolled your eyes before the two of you burst out into a fit of giggles. Jinx really knew how to make you smile.

You sat down on Jinx’s workbench listening to music and chatting. The atmosphere was so peaceful despite what had transpired earlier - you felt like ditching your partner was the right call. They probably wouldn’t even realise you were missing and you could always reschedule some other day.

“Hey, Jinx?” The blue-haired girl looked at you expectantly, hand on her chin as if she was hooked on every word. If you didn’t know any better you would go as far as to say she was lovestruck.

“I have to say, this is my best date yet.” You said with a playful grin.

Even though you meant it as a joke, Jinx took your words to heart. You truly were made for her, and her you. Whether or not you knew, she had claimed you all for herself.

Her mind wandered off whilst you giggled at another stupid joke you made - she felt guilty knowing that what she had to do would cause you immense pain but it was for the greater good. You two would be together.

Forever.

——————————————————————————

a/n: wrote this instead of doing my course work oops… i would like to delve into her toxic behaviour in another hc! thanks to everyone who was so kind to my first post, i wasn’t really expecting anyone to actually read it :’) thinking of doing a toxic!silco or going a softer route - vi x reader struggling w/comphet!

byeeee ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

masterlist

[vandme12]

I was the one who requested the Royal Cafe, Can you just do it as a Ronin x Reader?

Inspiration

SINFUL CAFE AND YOUR RONIN

CHARACTER USED : Ronin from Killer Chat!

SUMMARY : Your Cafe is almost dead, Angel saved and A Devil became a Cat?

So you've been in this serial killer server for eight months, and somehow, against all odds, you fell for Ronin. That purgatory of a first kiss? Yeah, it ruined you in the best way. Now it’s a whole trend—flirting, fighting, maybe even feeling.

You love him. He loves you. (Maybe.)

He’s feisty about it, of course. Teasing, testing, pushing you just enough to keep you on edge, but never quite letting you fall. And god, you love it. You love him. You love this—this insane little corner of the internet where murder is a casual conversation, where death is a game, and where your heart beats way too fast whenever his name pops up in your notifications.

So, tell me—what’s next?

So, you’re a writer. And an idiot. A beautiful, chaotic idiot who somehow—somehow—managed to open a royal-themed café because childhood-you watched one maid café anime and said, “Yeah, that’s the dream.”

And guess what? Dream achieved, baby. You’ve got the whole setup—maids in frilly dresses, butlers in crisp suits, fancy teacups, and a menu with way too many desserts. It’s perfect. Almost.

Except… your staff? Absolute disasters.

Your maids? Shit. Your butlers? Worse shit. Half of them can’t carry a tray without causing a full-scale catastrophe. The other half are more likely to flirt with customers for tips than serve them. You hired them for the aesthetic, not the competence, and it shows.

But hey, it’s your dream. And if you’re going to go down in flames, at least you’re doing it in a sparkly maid café, right?

Your royal café is on life support.

Sure, you’ve got the maids. You’ve got the butlers. You’ve got the fancy-ass menu with cakes that are probably overpriced. But there’s one tiny, devastating problem—nobody knows you exist.

Like, you’re out here living your sparkly childhood fantasy, and the universe decided to spit in your crème brûlée. Customers? Barely any. Popularity? Nonexistent. It’s so bad that your butlers started playing rock-paper-scissors to decide who actually has to work when someone—finally—walks through the door.

The closing sign is practically looming over your café’s head. You tried everything—social media posts, themed events, hell, you even forced your staff into a cringy dance routine on TikTok. Nothing. Still ghost town vibes.

And it’s really sad, okay? You didn’t go through all this chaos just to shut down like some tragic protagonist. There has to be a way to save it—right?

You felt like absolute shit.

This café was supposed to be your magnum opus—your crowning achievement of cute uniforms, elegant service, and the kind of fluffy desserts that make people squeal. Instead? You’re staring at the empty tables, wondering if it’s physically possible to die from secondhand embarrassment as your maids argue over who actually has to smile today.

Even your most loyal butler, who once prided himself on his "mysterious prince" aesthetic, just muttered, "Why bother?" while unironically sipping from a Garfield mug. Garfield, in your royal café. The disrespect.

You tried everything—promo flyers, ‘buy one, get one free’ events, you even begged your questionable internet friends (read: serial killers) to spread the word. Nothing worked.

And now, sitting behind the counter, chin in your hands, you feel the crushing weight of failure. Maybe this was a stupid dream. Maybe you should’ve just written your little murder book and called it a day.

But no. You’re too stubborn to quit now.

The café’s a mess. Your staff is a disaster. But dammit, this is your disaster.

You were overstressed, underslept, and one more burnt crème brûlée away from a complete breakdown.

Between fixing the café’s finances, dragging your chaotic staff out of whatever emotional crisis they were having this time, and trying to figure out if it was actually legal for one of your maids to threaten a customer (it wasn’t), you hadn’t logged into the server for a week.

A week.

Which, in "Serial Killer Chatroom Time," was practically a century.

Your phone buzzed. Again. And again. You ignored it—because if you saw one more "URGENT!!!" message from your accountant (who now ended every email with "we’re so fucked"), you were going to scream.

But then… a familiar notification popped up.

GOREBOY:

Did you die or are you ghosting me? I can make both happen. 💔

You blinked. Oh. Shit.

You hadn’t answered Ronin in days. And if there was one thing that man hated more than authority figures, it was being ignored.

Another message.

K9:

You’ve been offline too long. Something wrong?

HITMEUPPP:

bro if ur dead lmk

Your heart gave a weird, guilty little flutter. Even V was checking in, and that man was emotionally repressed on principle.

You rubbed your face, debating if you should respond or just fake your death and move to another country. Before you could decide, your phone buzzed again—hard enough to make you flinch.

GOREBOY (PRIVATE DM):

You’re either working too hard or digging your own grave. Which is it...

Oh. You were so fucked.

Your notifications were cursed. Every time you tried to catch a break, another ping dragged you back into the chaos. And now? Everyone was in on it.

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL:

brooo u alive?? 🏄‍♂️ i was gonna invite u surfing but like. ur ghosting us.

EVISCERATOR1990:

Are You Okay?

angelic:

babe, if you needed a break, you could’ve said so. but if you died, I’m gonna be pissed.

FELICITE:

You okay? No judgment, just checking. If you need help, I’ve got a shovel and an alibi.

Even Ai Hua—sweet, terrifying Ai Hua—sent a message.

Ai Hua:

☹️

When Ai Hua pulls out the sad face, you know you messed up.

You exhaled, feeling that familiar ache crawl up your spine. The stress. The exhaustion. The fact that you hadn’t eaten anything besides café leftovers for days. Your dream café was circling the drain, your staff couldn’t brew a latte without setting something on fire, and now your murder chatroom friends were worried you’d become a cold case.

Before you could spiral any harder, your phone buzzed again—one more DM from Ronin.

GOREBOY:

Last chance, baby. Tell me what’s wrong, or I’m breaking into your life.

And with him, you believed it.

You crack your knuckles, sighing as you finally cave and open the server. Bad idea? Probably. But if you didn’t say something soon, you were half-convinced Ronin would break into your apartment and bother you in person—which, knowing him, wasn’t even the weirdest thing he’d do.

You hit the general chat and type:

you:

lol sorry i died but i came back bc i heard the devil crying 😔 gotta support local businesses

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL:

YOURE BACKKKKK 🎉

angelic:

tf kind of fanfic-ass excuse is that.

EVISCERATOR1990:

typical. the devil’s always needy.

Ai Hua:

😌👍

GOREBOY:

you’re lucky i’m cute, or i’d haunt you myself.

You roll your eyes, but your heart does a stupid little flip. Of course, he would twist this into being about him. You barely hesitate before sliding into his DMs, fingers flying.

you:

why are u like this

you:

i’ve been stressed out of my mind and here you are playing “where’s my favorite corpse”

you:

my café is dying. my employees are morons. i haven’t slept in days. everything sucks.

you:

and you?? teasing me like “where’s my baby 😢 are you in the afterlife?? did you leave me??”

You should stop. You should. But your thumbs don’t.

you:

like bro. i’m about to pass out in a puddle of failed cappuccinos and you’re making it MY problem that i’m not flirting back??

You stare at the screen, expecting some sarcastic reply. Something cocky. Something Ronin.

Instead, after a beat—

GOREBOY:

...tell me everything.

You blink.

you:

what?

GOREBOY:

everything. all of it.

GOREBOY:

i’m listening, baby. go ahead—vent it out.

And just like that—you break. You tell him everything. The constant stress, the unpaid bills, the fact that your “dream café” is hanging by a thread because nobody wants to buy overpriced lattes served by questionable maids and worse butlers. How you’ve been grinding yourself into the ground, and it still isn’t enough.

And the whole time? He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t tease. He just… listens.

Finally, when you’re done—when you’ve vomited every anxious thought into his DMs—he replies.

GOREBOY:

okay. first? if you die, i’m bringing you back myself.

GOREBOY:

second? i’m coming over.

you:

?????

GOREBOY:

did i stutter?

You: hey!!!!

You slam the message into Ronin’s DMs He's not try to pull that "I’m coming over" nonsense. You’re stressed, overworked, and no way in hell are you dealing with that in person.

GOREBOY:

oh? suddenly alive again? miss me already, baby?

You:

shut up omg. i’m fine. go be evil somewhere else.

GOREBOY:

nah. you’re my favorite pastime.

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. This man. This man. And like the problem he is, he doesn’t stop there.

GOREBOY:

c’mon, sweet thing. tell me more.

GOREBOY:

my muse needs their muse, don't they?

And, damn it, he knows exactly how to work you. Your head’s been a mess—deadlines on your novel, bills piling up from the café, maids and butlers who couldn’t charm a customer to save their lives. Your dream’s slipping through your fingers, and you’ve been too tired to write, too tired to do anything but spiral.

But he keeps talking.

GOREBOY:

bet you’re cute when you pout.

GOREBOY:

and if your little café is your house? yeah, angel—burn the world down before you let anyone take it.

Your heart does a dumb little flip.

You:

it’s different, though… if i lose this place, i’ll break. me and my parents—we worked so hard. it’s not just a shop. it’s… home.

He goes quiet for a second. Too quiet.

Then—your phone buzzes. He’s calling you. Of course he is.

You hesitate… but pick up.

The screen flickers, and there he is—Ronin, all lazy smirk and sharp angles, his silver hair falling into his eyes. He scans you, slow and deliberate, and yeah… you’ve got eyebags for days, but the way he looks at you—shit.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” you mutter, voice softer than you mean it.

“Yeah,” he drawls, tilting his head. “I was just thinkin’… even with the eyebags, you look great, darlin’.”

You roll your eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

But he keeps staring. Long. Intense. Like he’s memorizing you.

“What?” you snap, feeling your face heat.

“Nothing,” he says—too casual. “Just… go to sleep.”

You blink. “What, why—”

“I’ll watch,” he cuts in, voice dropping to that smooth, velvet tone that makes your stomach flip. “Until you’re out. That a problem, baby?”

Your heart stutters. “Why are you—”

“‘Cause I’m nice.” He leans closer to the camera, grin curling wicked. “And this is how I get repaid? My Darlin an ungrateful idiot, huh?”

You swallow hard, brain short-circuiting. “I—”

“Relax.” His voice softens, teasing but warm. “Shoulder devils gotta take care of their angels, baby. You work too hard. So, shut up and let me be sweet. Just this once.”

And hell—you’d argue, but you’re already sinking deeper under his spell.

Your laughter slips out before you can stop it—light, tired, but real. “Thanks, Ronin.”

For once, he doesn’t shoot back a smart-ass comment. Instead, he just… smiles. Soft at the edges, like he’s letting his guard down without realizing it. And damn, if that doesn’t make your chest ache a little.

“Good night, darlin’,” he murmurs, voice smooth as sin.

You smirk, letting your head fall against the pillow. “Good night, Butcher.”

His eyes flash with something dangerous—amused. “Tch. Call me that again, angel, and I might think you’re flirting.”

“Maybe I am,” you tease, your voice dipping just enough to make it stick.

He huffs a laugh under his breath. “You’re lucky I’m feeling sweet. Sleep. Before I crawl through the screen and tuck you in myself.”

“Promises, promises…” you mumble, already half-asleep.

And as you drift off, the last thing you hear is his voice—lower, softer than before.

“…Sweet dreams, baby.”

Ronin leans back in his chair after hanging up, fingers drumming against his thigh. For once, the usual smirk on his face fades into something… complicated. The hell’s he supposed to do with this?

You’re stressed—overworked, overwhelmed, cracking at the edges. And sure, he loves teasing you, loves watching you squirm, but… this? This hits different. You care about that dumb café like it’s your soul stitched into the walls. If you lose it, you’ll break.

And—ugh—he doesn’t like when you sound broken.

A sharp ping breaks his thoughts.

Angelic: hey goreboy, any update? hitmeuppp: fr fr bossman u know what’s up right? Eviscerator1990: WORRYING. This isn’t slasher-behavior, kid. LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: bro, did they die again? Ai Hua: 👍

Ronin groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Fucking vultures…”

He could brush them off—should brush them off—but his eyes flick back to your DM window. Your sleepy voice still lingers in his head. It’s like your house.

Tch. Of course you’d say something sappy like that. Of course he gives a shit.

goreboy: I don’t know. Let ‘em breathe.

A pause. Then—

Angelic: Liar.

He barks a laugh. They know him too well.

But… he does have a plan. Something stupid. Something reckless. Something only he can pull off.

If you’re gonna keep your café from crumbling, you’ll need one thing.

Publicity.

And who better to stir up a little chaos than the devil himself?

Ronin cracks his neck, the familiar edge of a smirk curling his lips as he types back.

goreboy: I have a wonderful plan.

The server erupts immediately.

Angelic: That’s never comforting. hitmeuppp: oh no oh no oh no Eviscerator1990: Define "wonderful," kid. LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: is it illegal. wait no. dumb question. Ai Hua: 👀

Ronin kicks his feet up on his desk, stretching like a cat that’s found fresh prey. He should probably explain—nah—he likes the suspense.

goreboy: Sit tight, sinners. Devil’s about to perform a miracle.

Even Felicite, who usually keeps her distance from the server’s chaos, drops a rare message.

Félicité: I’m almost scared to ask.

Ronin barks out a laugh, tipping his head back. If she’s curious, this plan is already off to a fantastic start.

goreboy: Don’t worry, princess. You’re gonna love it.

hitmeuppp: if u get them arrested, i’m telling their mom.

goreboy: Please, like I’m that sloppy.

goreboy: alright, angels—brainstorm time. how do we save my darlin’s dying café?

angelicc: OH. MY. GOD. I GOT THIS.

Before Ronin can even blink, Angel creates a new group chat and drags him in. The name?

💀 "Operation: Save the Café (ft. Hot Butcher)" 💀

hitmeuppp: wow u really just out here putting their whole situationship on blast huh

angelicc: duh. it’s cute. shut up, Misaki.

goreboy: so, what’s the master plan, sweetheart?

angelicc: Simple. I’ll feature their café on my channel. "Mystery Maid & Butler Café – The Hidden Gem You NEED To Visit!"

angelicc: Cute aesthetic. Mystery theme. And you? You’re coming too.

goreboy: oh?

angelicc: Yeah, I need the butcher boy for emotional support vibes.

Ronin snorts, already imagining how much fun he could have with this. If Angel’s running the show, the café is about to get flooded with curious fans.

goreboy: i’m in. tell me when to show up.

angelicc: Of course!

hitmeuppp: WAIT—WAIT. HOLD UP.

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: DareDarvil rules, baby!!! 😎

goreboy: you mean to tell me…

angelicc: No. Luca.

hitmeuppp: YES.

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: YESSSSS.

goreboy: …You want me to show up in a maid dress. With cat ears. And a tail.

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: AND FAKE BLOOD! Don’t forget the blood—like a cute lil’ murder maid, bro.

There’s a long pause. Ronin leans back in his chair, dragging his tongue over his teeth, half amused and half what the actual hell.

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: Think about it. Viral marketing. “Sinful Maid Café” featuring a devilishly hot butcher.

hitmeuppp: Bro, if you pull up in cat ears, you KNOW they’ll have a line out the door.

LUCA_IS_SO_COOL: Exactly. Chicks and Ddes dig murder maids.

goreboy: ...You’re all insane.

angelicc: As long you're okay with it. I don't really like this idea..

A slow, wicked smile curls at the corner of Ronin’s mouth. He pictures your stressed-out, sleep-deprived face when he walks into your café like that—oh, he’s gonna ruin you.

goreboy: Fine. But if I’m doing it, I’m going all in.

angelicc: Define “all in”…

goreboy: Tail. Ears. Knife. And if anyone gets blood on my skirt, they’re next.

hitmeuppp: Bro’s about to awaken something in half the city.

The next day

You blink, still half-asleep, as the café door swings open—and in walks Angel, glowing like a literal angel with her flawless makeup and bright smile. She’s dressed to kill, all elegance and danger wrapped in a leather jacket that probably costs more than your rent. Behind her, Ronin—looking like he rolled out of bed, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, eyes half-lidded but sharp.

“Morning, sunshine,” Angel coos, voice dripping honey as she surveys your café. “I couldn’t just sit back and let you spiral. You know I hate watching cute things break.”

You stare at her, still processing the fact that she’s standing here, in your café, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And your staff? Oh, your staff is losing their minds.

“Wait, wait—you’re Angelic?” one of your waitresses gasps, clutching the edge of a tray like she might faint.

“The one and only.” Angel winks, spinning on her heel. “And I’m here to save this adorable little café. So, listen up—new plan, everyone! We’re rebranding.”

You blink rapidly. “Re…branding?”

She flashes you a devilish smile. “Sinful Café. Think blood-splattered butlers, seductive maids—" She lowers her voice into a sultry purr, “—danger with your dessert. It’ll go viral in days. Trust me.”

And of course—because she’s Angel—your staff is eating it up. They’re already brainstorming costumes, throwing out ideas, hanging off her every word. You should be grateful. You should say thank you. But…

Your eyes drift to Ronin. He’s quiet, leaning against the counter, his gaze locked on you—steady, unreadable.

Did they… really do all this? For you?

You swallow hard. “Why?” The word slips out before you can stop it.

Angel tilts her head, smiling like it’s obvious. “Because you’re ours, duh.”

Your heart stutters.

“Don’t get soft on me now, darlin’,” Ronin drawls finally, breaking his silence. His voice—low, smooth, dangerously amused—crawls right under your skin. “You didn’t think we’d let your little house fall apart, did you?”

“You’re here!” The words slip out faster than you can stop them—your voice cracking with something dangerously close to relief. And, of course, Ronin hears it.

His lips curl into a slow, wicked smirk. “Missed me that bad, huh?” He leans in, the scent of leather and something sharper brushing against your senses.

You flush, heat crawling up your neck. “Pfft—no. I’m just surprised you’re awake before noon.”

“Ouch. And here I was, being all sweet, coming to save your ass.” His finger lifts, smooth and deliberate, and—boop—he taps the tip of your nose with the cocky audacity only he could pull off.

Your brain short-circuits for a second. “Did you just—?”

“What? You wanna do something about it, darlin’?” His voice drips teasing venom, but his eyes—oh, his eyes—are locked on yours, watching every little reaction like it’s his favorite show.

Without thinking, you reach out and boop him back. Harder. “Two can play that game, Butcher.”

His grin widens, teeth flashing sharp. “Aw, baby—don’t start something you can’t finish.”

And just like that, you’re caught in a spiral—back and forth, noses being bopped like you’re flirting in some chaotic cartoon. Until—

“...They’re seriously gonna do this in front of everyone?”

You freeze. Your staff. And Angel.

Oh no.

Angel, being her usual self, is lounging against a table with a shit-eating grin. “I mean, it’s cute. Like, stupidly cute.”

“They’re literally blushing—look at them!” one of your waiters whisper-yells, half-hiding behind a coffee tray.

“And they say we’re unprofessional,” one of your maids adds, crossing her arms—but her face is way too entertained.

Meanwhile, you? You’re dying inside. Absolutely dying.

Ronin? Oh, he’s thriving.

He bops your nose again—softer this time, like he’s savoring how easy it is to make you squirm. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Losing your edge?” His hand barely brushes your waist as he leans closer, voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “I thought you liked a little attention.”

You want to slap him. You also want to kiss him. Dangerous combo.

“You’re evil,” you mutter, trying (and failing) to glare at him.

“And you love it,” he shoots back without missing a beat.

Your grip on a glass tightens—so much so that it nearly shatters in your hands. Your heart’s pounding, and you swear the room’s hotter than it should be.

Your staff? Fully gossiping under their breath.

You noticed it immediately—the way your staff kept sneaking glances at Ronin. And not the “oh no, scary serial killer” kind of glances. No. It was the other kind.

The "he’s cute as hell" kind.

The whispering was bad enough.

“Why is he kinda hot, though?”

“Okay, but the messy hair? The voice??”

“I’d let him ruin my life, honestly.”

Your eye twitched. Why were they like this?

And why—out of everyone—did it have to be him they were thirsting over?

Ronin, of course, was oblivious. Or maybe he just didn’t care. He was too busy looking like a whole damn problem—leaning against the counter like he owned the place, one hand shoved casually into his jacket pocket, the other still too close to your waist.

He caught you glaring and quirked a brow. "What’s with the face, darlin’? Don’t tell me you’re jealous."

You rolled your eyes. "Of what? Your fan club?"

His smirk sharpened. "What can I say? People love a bad boy."

Okay, that was it. Enough.

You shot a death glare at your staff—the kind that screamed "I will fire all of you if you keep simping."

Instantly, they froze.

And, as one, they all gave you awkward thumbs-ups before scrambling out of the room.

Cowards.

Ronin laughed low in his throat. "Did you just chase them off?"

"Someone had to." You huffed, crossing your arms. "They were staring at you like you’re a damn dessert menu."

His gaze slid over you, slow and too pleased with himself. "Maybe they’ve just got good taste."

Oh, for the love of—

"Get out of my café, Ronin"

He only grinned wider. "Make me, sweetheart."

Angel spread out the plan with all the flair of someone who lived for the spotlight. "Alright, listen up, sinners." She clapped her hands, and the entire staff leaned in, hanging onto her every word. "We’re turning this café into a killer’s paradise—literally. Blood, danger, hot people in unholy outfits. We want every customer leaving here questioning their morality and maybe their life choices."

Your staff murmured excitedly—because of course they did.

Meanwhile, you?

Yeah, you were not listening.

Because Ronin—the actual Devil in a leather jacket—was still standing too close, arms folded, head tilted as he half-listened to Angel’s pitch. And you? You were just… staring.

Why did he have to look that good doing absolutely nothing?

His hair was a mess, that lazy smirk was doing something to your heart, and you were blushing like an idiot. And worse? He knew it.

Angel caught your stare immediately because she was evil like that. Her gaze flicked between you and Ronin, and when you met her eyes—oh, she was already smirking.

You shot her back a glare. Shut up.

She only grinned wider and mouthed, "Adorable."

Ugh.

You forced yourself to focus as she dramatically flipped through her phone. "And now… costumes." With a flourish, she spun her phone around to reveal the lineup. "Everyone’s getting a killer makeover. Think blood-splattered chic. Sexy slasher. Haute homicide."

Your staff was way too excited about this.

"I call being the ghost-faced butler!"

"Can I be a psycho doll?"

"I’m doing a vampire killer—deal with it."

Angel winked at you. "And don’t worry, babe. I’ve got a special costume just for you."

You groaned. "Should I be scared?"

"Always," she said sweetly.

But your heart stuttered when Ronin—still leaning against the counter—sighed with fake boredom. "Yeah, yeah. Blood, knives, murder. Real original. You’re all having fun, but what am I wearing, Angel?" His tone was lazy, but there was a glint in his eyes—a challenge.

Angel had no mercy.

The outfit she shoved into your arms? Unholy.

A sleek, gender-neutral ensemble that clung to all the right places—black leather, blood-red accents splattered across your chest like you walked out of a crime scene. The jacket? Cropped and shredded, showing just enough skin to be dangerous. Fingerless gloves, a choker with a dangling silver knife charm, and thigh straps. Why did there have to be thigh straps?!

"You’re welcome," Angel purred as you stared at yourself in the mirror, half-horrified and half-impressed.

You tried to play it cool. "You think I’m gonna wear this?"

"I think you’re gonna rock it." She gave you a once-over, biting back a smirk. "Don’t worry, darling—if the café thing tanks, you’ll have a backup career as a heartbreaker."

And, yeah. You wore it.

The moment you stepped out, your staff did a collective double take.

One of your butlers—bless his soul—whistled low. "Boss, uh… is this café legal? ‘Cause you’re about to cause crimes."

Angel winked at you from across the room, holding up two thumbs. "Looking like you’re ready to commit murder and steal some hearts. Perfect."

But nothing—nothing—prepared you for Ronin’s reaction.

He had been leaning against the counter, scrolling on his phone, but the second he saw you? His gaze dragged up from your boots to your neck, slow and heavy, like he was memorizing every inch.

And when he met your eyes?

Oh, you were screwed.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, pushing off the counter. His voice dipped, velvet smooth. "Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes, darlin’."

You tried to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. "Don’t start."

"Can’t help it." He tilted his head, devil horns peeking through his hair. "You dress up like my next bad decision, and you expect me to behave?"

Before you could snap back, the front doors of your café burst open—and in poured a wave of customers.

Apparently, the paparazzi spotted Angel outside, and that meant the whole city wanted to be here. The crowd was ridiculous—half the people here probably couldn’t tell a latte from a cappuccino, but they definitely wanted photos with Angel.

And your café?

It was packed.

One of your waitresses rushed past, wide-eyed. "I can’t believe it—we’re trending."

Angel tossed her hair over her shoulder, all casual. "Of course we are. I’m a genius." She leaned in, voice softer. "I told you I’d fix this, babe."

You almost didn’t hear her—because Ronin was still watching you, still too close.

"You gonna keep gawking?" you muttered.

Your staff? Absolutely killing it.

Angel's twisted, bloodied aesthetic turned your struggling café into the hottest place in town. Every maid and butler was decked out in outfits straight from a killer's fever dream—splattered with fake blood, ripped in all the right places, and more than a little suggestive.

Your barista? Serial killer chic, with a blood-streaked apron and a knife tucked into their belt. One of the butlers had a leather harness over his vest, the bloodstains on his gloves just this side of illegal. Even the shyest maid—normally too nervous to hold eye contact—was working the crowd in a blood-smeared lace dress, balancing a tray of lattes while twirling a fake cleaver.

It was chaotic. It was hot. And the customers? They were eating it up.

Angel, perched at a VIP table with Ronin, looked pleased as hell. She clinked her glass against his. "I told you," she said sweetly, watching the café hum with energy. "All they needed was a little edge."

"Yeah, yeah." Ronin stretched, all lazy confidence, but his eyes hadn’t left you once. "Don’t get too smug, sweetheart. This ain’t your masterpiece."

Angel snorted. "Jealous?"

"Of you?" His smirk sharpened. "No, babe. I’m invested."

You barely had a second to breathe before one of your butlers slid up beside you, flashing a teasing grin. "Hey, boss." He tugged at the bloodied cuffs of his sleeves. "Think we’re gonna need combat pay for all these stares. Never thought working here would mean breaking hearts too."

"You’ll survive," you deadpanned, trying not to laugh.

"You sure? ‘Cause your devil boyfriend’s been glaring holes through anyone who looks at you too long." He tilted his head toward Ronin, who—yeah—was definitely watching you with that lazy, heavy-lidded gaze.

Ronin caught you looking. And winked.

Your heart did a stupid, traitorous flip.

Angel’s plan wasn’t just working—it was thriving. The line outside wrapped around the block. Your social media was blowing up. Every time a customer left, they posted pictures of the blood-soaked, dangerously hot staff, tagging the café with captions like:

"Who knew horror could be this hot?? #SinfulCafe #KillerVibes"

"Maid cafés are cute—this one’s a crime scene and I’m obsessed."

Angel didn’t just post it—she made a whole event out of it.

The photo? Flawless.

A perfectly curated shot of the café’s chaos—bloodied maids, dangerously hot butlers, and you at the center, caught mid-laugh. You were leaning back against the counter, still wearing the killer-chic outfit she picked, the fake blood on your collar making you look like you just stepped out of a slasher movie.

He was right beside you, one hand casually draped around your waist, head tilted close—like he wasn’t just near you, but claiming you. His usual sharp-edged smirk was in full force, the kind that promised trouble.

The caption?

"Blood, guts, and a little bit of love~ ❤️🍷 @SinfulCafe is OPEN. Come for the coffee, stay for the danger. #KillerVibes #SinfulCafe #MariaDelRosa"

And that name—Maria Del Rosa—was all the hook anyone needed.

Because if there was one thing Angel knew how to do, it was make a scandal.

Maria Del Rosa wasn’t just a pop sensation—she was controversy in high heels, and Angel had just hinted to her millions of followers that this café was her new obsession.

The second the post went live, your notifications exploded.

"Wait—Maria Del Rosa is hanging out at a haunted café?!"

"Angel really said blood is the new black, huh?"

Your café was trending before you could even process it—news outlets were already picking it up, hyping the place as a “celebrity hideout with a bloody twist.”

You were working, Ronin said he had a work.

Your brain short-circuited.

Ronin. In the maid outfit.

Cat ears. Tail. Bloodied knife.

What the actual hell.

And he was working—or, well, his version of it. Strutting through the café like he owned the place, giving the new customers a devil’s welcome with that lazy, sharp-edged grin that promised a good time… or a terrible mistake.

“Welcome to Sinful Café,” he drawled, voice dripping with mock sweetness as he leaned down toward a table of wide-eyed customers. “Order fast, darlings… or else.” He spun the fake knife between his fingers like he was born with it, flashing his fangs in a grin as one girl nearly fainted.

The whole café was staring—even your staff was frozen, whispering among themselves like he was some kind of exotic attraction.

Someone even whipped out their phone—you heard the camera shutters, the murmurs of, “Holy shit, is he part of the show?!” and “I will sell my soul to be stepped on—”

You barely processed any of it because, goddamn, he looked good.

The maid dress hugged him in all the right places—short enough to tease but just messy enough with the blood splatters to make him look like he walked out of a horror fantasy. The cat ears twitched as he tilted his head toward a customer who was too stunned to speak.

“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” he purred.

You clutched the counter to stay upright.

And then—he caught you staring.

That slow, dangerous smile of his stretched wider, and he sauntered over like he had all the time in the world. Each step was deliberate, and you swore half the café was tracking his movements.

He leaned down, voice just for you this time. “What’s wrong, darlin’? Gonna break another glass lookin’ at me like that?”

Your throat dried. “I—uh—why—” Words? Who needed them? Not you apparently.

He tilted your chin up with the tip of the bloody knife (prop… hopefully), his crimson-painted nails brushing your skin. "Luca dared me," he admitted, way too pleased with himself. "Thought I’d… liven the place up."

Liven it up?! You wanted to scream. The café was practically vibrating with energy—the air buzzing with whispers and cameras flashing.

“Gotta admit,” he continued, studying your face, “it’s worth it just to see you blush like that. Thought you liked the attention?”

“I—I do, but—” You swallowed, heat crawling up your neck as his eyes dropped—lingering low before meeting yours again. "This is different."

Ronin chuckled low in his throat, pulling back slightly—but not before dragging the blunt edge of the knife down your chest in one slow line. "Different’s good, sweetheart. Keeps things… interesting."

And just when you thought you’d survive—

He winked. "Anything for you, boss."

Your heart? Gone. Dead. Buried.

You tried—really tried—to be normal about it.

But how the hell were you supposed to act normal when Ronin looked like that?

The cat ears, the tail, the scandalously short maid dress—it was criminal how good he looked. The lace edging flirted with his thighs every time he moved, and the fake blood on his apron wasn’t helping your sanity. And the knife? Oh, the knife. He spun it like a promise, the gleam catching the light as if it were taunting you.

You sucked in a breath, gripping the counter for dear life, because if you didn’t hold onto something, you were going to lose it.

Meanwhile, Ronin? Completely unbothered—in fact, he seemed to be having the time of his life. He strolled through the café like a devil on holiday, sending playful winks and lazy smirks to anyone brave (or stupid) enough to stare too long.

And, oh—they were staring.

Your staff? Losing it. You caught two maids whispering frantically behind a menu, eyes wide as they tracked his every move. A butler actually dropped a tray, the clatter nearly drowned out by the murmurs rippling through the café.

The customers? Even worse.

“I didn’t know this was a thing,” one girl gasped, clutching her friend’s arm. “I’d pay extra if he threatened me,” her friend muttered, practically drooling.

Your jaw clenched. Oh, hell no.

You tried—really—to be professional, plastering on a smile as you took an order from a table. But your focus kept slipping. Your eyes? Betraying you. Every time you glanced up, he was there—a walking distraction with legs far too long and a smirk far too dangerous.

And he knew it.

You caught him watching you—his golden eyes sharp, hungry, and just a little too pleased with himself. When your eyes met, he tilted his head, the black cat ears twitching with the motion.

The knife twirled in his fingers. Slow. Deliberate.

A tease—just for you.

“Something on your mind, darlin’?” His voice slid across the café, smooth and dark, cutting through the buzz of conversation like silk over a blade.

Your stomach flipped. You scrambled for composure, tossing him a glare. “Stop that.”

His grin only widened. “Stop what? Bein’ cute?” He took a step closer—too close—until the counter was the only thing between you. He leaned in, the scent of leather and something dangerous curling around you. “Can’t help it. It’s natural.”

You huffed, face burning. “You’re gonna give someone a heart attack.”

He chuckled low in his throat, dragging the blunt edge of the knife along his lip in a way that should’ve been illegal. “Long as it’s not yours, we’re fine, sugar.”

You were not surviving this day.

Especially when you noticed the way everyone else was looking at him. Customers whispering, staff swooning—hell, you spotted a person blatantly checking him out,

Your eye twitched.

Mine.

The thought flared up so fast it startled you—but, God, you weren’t wrong.

And Ronin? He must’ve caught the flash of jealousy in your eyes because the next thing you knew, he was sliding closer—too close—the tip of the knife brushing against your wrist where you clutched the counter.

“Careful, sweetheart.” His voice dipped lower—private, rough around the edges. “Keep lookin’ at me like that, and I’ll think you’re jealous.”

Your heart pounded. “I am not jealous.”

“Mm.” He didn’t believe you for a second. “Coulda fooled me. Don’t worry, darlin’. No one else gets me like you do."

Asshole.

And when you didn’t answer, too busy trying not to combust, he reached up—bopped your nose—and laughed.

“You’re cute when you pout.”

You slammed your hands on the counter—loud—loud enough to cut through the chatter and grab everyone’s attention.

“The café is closed due to… due to a food shortage!” You snapped, a little too fast, a little too sharp.

A blatant lie—there were plenty of pastries in the back, and you knew it. But if you had to watch one more person drool over Ronin in that damn maid outfit, you were going to start flipping tables.

The crowd groaned in disappointment but no one moved—because, of course, they didn’t. Not when Ronin stood there like a walking sin, twirling his knife with that easy, flirtatious grace.

One girl, practically vibrating, tilted her head with wide eyes. “But… can we stay if we’re just… watching?”

Watching?!

You nearly choked. What the hell—was he a café attraction now? A sideshow? What, were people going to start tipping him for existing?

Meanwhile, Ronin? That bastard was eating it up.

“Aw, sugar, you closin’ up so soon?” He purred, leaning against the counter, his black cat tail curling playfully behind him. His gaze flicked over you—slow, heavy, dangerous—and he grinned like he was born to be a problem. “Guess I’ll have to entertain ‘em while you’re bein’ stingy.”

Oh, hell no.

And as if the universe hadn’t tortured you enough, someone from the back whistled—a low, appreciative sound—and you caught at least three people whispering about how “mysterious and hot” he was.

You snapped.

“Out.” Your voice cracked through the air like a whip, sharp enough to make the nearest table flinch. “We are closed—I don’t care if God himself walks in here; you’re all leaving.”

A mix of grumbling and disappointment filled the room as the customers reluctantly shuffled toward the exit, throwing longing glances at Ronin as they went. One particularly bold person actually slipped a phone number onto the counter—for Ronin.

The audacity.

You snatched the paper before he could see it and crumpled it into your fist. No way in hell. Not on your watch.

Finally, the door closed behind the last customer, the bell jingling softly in the silence.

You exhaled hard, pressing a hand to your chest to keep your jealous heart from exploding. Peace. At last.

…Until you realized Ronin was still there, watching you with the smuggest look you’d ever seen. His golden eyes glittered with pure, unfiltered amusement—like he knew exactly what game you were playing.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” he drawled, pushing off the counter to prowl closer, the hem of the maid skirt dangerously high with each step. “Seemed a little… possessive."

“I’m not,” you lied—poorly. Your voice cracked on the last word.

He tilted his head, the black cat ears twitching like he was enjoying every second of your unraveling. “Really? ‘Cause it kinda felt like you wanted to throw hands back there.”

“I’m not jealous!” You blurted, too loud—too defensive.

“Mm-hm.” He stopped right in front of you, towering over you in those ridiculous cat ears and lace. The fake blood on his apron only made him look more dangerous, more irresistible. “Y’know, darlin’, if you wanted my attention that bad…” He lowered his voice, rough and teasing. “…you just had to ask.”

You narrowed your eyes, heat flooding your face. “You think you’re so funny.”

“Only ‘cause I am.” His grin turned wicked. “C’mon, admit it—you liked it. Me in this little thing?” He gave the hem of the maid skirt a taunting tug, showing a sinful hint of thigh. “Drives you crazy, huh?”

“You drive me crazy,” you snapped, but your gaze dipped—traitorously—to his legs. “And put your knife down before you stab someone.”

His chuckle was low and dangerous, vibrating straight through your bones. “Careful, darlin’. If I didn’t know better…” He leaned in, lips hovering by your ear, breath warm against your skin. “…I’d think you were jealous of everyone checkin’ me out.”

You swallowed hard, pulse pounding. “I’m not jealous,” you muttered, glaring at his smirk. “I just… I didn’t like it.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Didn’t like what?”

“Them.” You huffed, pushing at his chest—bad idea—because the second your fingers touched the soft lace of the dress, he caught your wrist. “I didn’t like them looking at you.”

For a beat, he didn’t move—just stared at you, his expression shifting into something slower, heavier. And when he spoke next, his voice was different—still teasing, but laced with something else beneath the surface.

“Aw, sugar…” He lifted your hand to his lips, brushing a feather-light kiss across your knuckles. “You don’t gotta be jealous. They can look all they want, but…” His smile softened—just a little—and his black eyes locked with yours. “…I’m yours.”

You screamed—a full, undignified scream—so loud it echoed through the empty café. Your legs buckled beneath you from the sheer force of your overheated brain trying to process what had just happened.

And, of course, because the universe was cruel, you nearly ate the floor—until Ronin caught you.

With one hand.

On your waist.

And, oh God, the maid outfit—you could feel the lace brushing against your skin as he held you steady. His grip was firm, possessive, like he had no intention of letting go anytime soon.

“You good there, darlin’?” His voice was warm—too warm—smug as hell, but there was something else underneath it. Something sincere, something dangerous.

You opened your mouth—probably to yell again—but your words died in your throat because suddenly, he kissed you.

Soft at first—too soft—like he was testing if you’d push him away. But when you didn’t—when you clung to him like you’d lose your mind if he stopped—he deepened it. His free hand slid to the small of your back, tugging you flush against him, and you swear you could feel the flick of his damn cat tail brushing your leg.

When he pulled back, his lips were curved in a lazy, satisfied smile. “Told ya,” he murmured, his voice rough and teasing, “I’m yours.”

Your brain? Mush. Gone. Obliterated.

The only thing you could do was stare at him—scandalized, flustered, and very much not okay.

And he knew it.

The next day?

Chaos. Absolute chaos.

Your café? Blown up—not literally, but it might as well have been. Thanks to Angel’s post, it had gone viral overnight. The hashtag #SinfulCafe was trending, and you had a line stretching around the block before you even opened.

And the worst part?

The photo posted—the one everyone was losing their minds over—wasn’t even of her.

It was of him.

Ronin, in the bloody maid outfit, mid-stride with that devil-may-care smirk, twirling his knife like he was about to cut someone’s heart out—and everyone wanted a piece.

Customers wouldn’t stop asking about the “maid guy”—some even left love letters at the counter, like he was some kind of celebrity crush. And Ronin? That bastard was loving every second of it. Happy news is The photos people posted was so blurry when it had his face.

No one sees your man.

At one point, he leaned against the counter, watching you scramble around with the sweetest, most infuriating grin on his face.

“Y’know,” he drawled, spinning a fake blood-covered spoon between his fingers, “if I knew wearin’ a little lace would get you this riled up, I’d’ve done it sooner.”

You threw a dish towel at his head. He caught it without looking—because of course, he did.

When you finally had a moment to breathe, you flopped onto a chair in the break room and opened your phone.

The server was on fire—everyone was still buzzing about the café, Angel’s post, and him.

You typed out a quick message:

YOU: @angelicc I owe you one. Seriously. Thanks for saving my ass.

A second later, Angel replied:

ANGELICC: lmao anytime, babe 💋 but let’s be real—u should be thanking me for putting u two in the same room long enough to FINALLY KISS.

Your face burned.

LUCA: wait wait WAIT??? U TWO KISSED???

FELICITE: They WHAT.

You: Aren't we already in a relationship?

You groaned, slamming your forehead against the table while your notifications exploded.

Goreboy: They act like everything is a horror.

Of course, it was him.

Every single photo—every—one of that viral post had his face conveniently blurred or cropped just enough to keep his identity a mystery. Fans online were already obsessing over the “Sinful Butcher Maid,” speculating who he was, but no one had a clear shot.

And you? You were suspicious.

So, naturally, you DM’d him.

YOU: okay, be honest. is this YOUR doing??

It took him exactly thirty seconds to respond—because, of course, he was waiting.

Goreboy: obviously.

You rolled your eyes. Of course.

YOU: why tho?? u love attention. don’t lie.

Goreboy: babe, I know I’m hot. but I also know when to keep my shit private.

Goreboy: plus, you know how messy it’d get if people started recognizing me? one glimpse of this face and your lil’ café turns into a damn crime scene.

You snorted. Dramatic as always.

YOU: sooooo, u admit you’re obsessed with me enough to hide your face for my sake?

Goreboy: tsk. don’t push it, darlin’. I’m already doin’ charity work lookin’ this good in cat ears.

YOU: HA. YOU agreed to the dare, don’t even play.

Goreboy: yeah, well. someone had to save your ass, and it sure wasn’t your tragic lil’ butlers.

You couldn’t help the stupid, giddy smile pulling at your lips. For all his teasing, he was right—if Ronin hadn’t shown up (in that outfit, no less), you might’ve lost your café. And now? Business was booming.

But, still.

YOU: soooooo... u gonna wear it again?

Goreboy: you wanna see me in it again?

Your face burned.

YOU: shut up.

Goreboy: nah. you’re cute when you’re jealous.

The worst part? He was right, and he damn well knew it.

[occamstfs]

Tailgating

Uptight Benji tries to force his way though rowdy tailgaters to get to work. How was he supposed to know the stupid game was such a big deal? Seems he’ll be learning in short order after having a beer or two to take the edge off.

Spin on one of my favorite older stories on here, also named Tailgating! Slightly shorter fratification, burps and personality changing sunglasses ahead! Also only a few days left to vote for the Talismen finale, there's a clear favorite but anything can happen! Enjoy this little ode to sweaty bodies and hoppy breath! -Occam

The roads around the campus library are closed for the big game, but Benjamin was still determined to host his Office hours. He knew there was some kind of football thing today but had no idea it was apparently the biggest of the year. Some bowl game or massive rivalry or something, He didn’t care- doesn’t and will never care, in fact . He’s done good work avoiding the jeering crowds of drunkards so far as he sneaks across campus. Nearing the home stretch however it’s clear there is no way around. He must somehow power through the horde.

Benji makes it a few good yards into the festivities unassailed, dodging elbows and spilled drinks like the best of them. Unfortunately the prudish academic takes time to grimace and sneer when one of the behemoths burps loud enough to make him flinch, pausing just long enough to become irrevocably caught in the chaos. 

Like an animal held by the scruff of its neck, Benjamin finds himself in the clutches of Bruiser, president of the school’s new Beta Delta Alpha chapter. “Yooo lil bro! What’s up? Looks like you’re not havin’ a good time?” Stuck in a meaty hand and between instincts of snide remarks and swift flight he opts for smarmy sarcasm, “Nono you bovine brute I’m having the time of my life on this commute.” Bruiser narrows his eyes, “hmmmm I dunno dude.”

Feeling the man’s sweaty, surely beer-covered palm soaking through his shirt he swats at it, “Ugh, the idea of work foreign to you hedonistic morons?” Bruiser’s lip twitches into a smile as he reaches to grab something with his free hand, “ohhh you’ve got work lil bro?” The hairs on the back of Benji’s neck stand on end as he feels something shift in the man’s expression and he tries to bolt away, Too Late.

Bruiser forces a massive mirrored visor onto Benji’s eyes and the prude freezes. His vision is shaded a dark burnt orange and his eyes scramble, the only remaining part he seems able to move himself. Bruiser releases his shoulder and pats his back, “Welcome to the party bro hahah!” Benji cannot see the man’s own eyes glimmering through his new visor, though as he leans in close all his senses are overwhelmed by how powerful the scent of beer is on his breath, “Here lil bro, let me help you chill out.” Despite disgust, despite fear, despite everything in him begging him to flee, the scent of beer on Bruiser’s thick breath fills him with an overwhelming thirst.

Benjamin doesn’t know how a tall boy ends up in his hand, but he can guess what is soon to happen when Bruiser turns to shout, “Yo bros! Lil Benj over here is gonna kill a tall boy in one gulp!” Through his tinted visor he sees the can raise to his lips, no one can see his eyes widen from fear as beer begins to pour into his mouth. Try as he might to slow the flow, to close his mouth, to not swallow he is totally unable to move. And then, his eyes lose focus for half as second, why would he want to stop drinking it?Did he like beer? As it continues to flow into his mouth he can’t imagine not liking it? ‘S pretty good. Despite his body willing itself through the can, in its paltry state he could never manage to drink this quickly. Rivulets of the swill spill out of his cheeks and down his jaw, staining the recently shaved upper lip and cheeks darker, a mustache never given the chance to thrive begins to sprout. Benji’s throat burns from the effort of racing to down the drink, through with each gasping swallow it becomes easier, more adept at performative drinking competitions, tight to the can his mouth widens into something cruder, made to be loud. And then he’s done

Tossing the can to the ground without a care Benjamin stands, swaying back slightly despite having only had the one drink. His hand pats his stomach and it jiggles slightly, the tall boy must be expanding in his stomach or something. He grimaces as it grumbles, his neck reflexively tenses as he feels a burp coming up. He can’t, no surely not- the glasses squeeze tighter on his head and he laughs once, wouldn’t it be funny though?

Bruiser watches with as smile as he sees the meek man’s torso begin to fill out as he fights the urge to burp. Beneath the visor his eyes surely go glassy as his midriff is exposed and soon enough covered by a treasure trail climbing up towards his chest. Buttons begin to pop from the beer-stained collar of his shirt as something a little less defined than pecs begin to hang on his chest. Impatient with the nerd’s hesitation, Bruiser steps in and pats the man on the back. 

With the slightest encouragement from his bro, er- from this frat bro, Benji lets loose. *BRGURRRP* It lasts a few seconds, it’s not alone *BUURRP* Immediately Benji’s mind returns and he again tries to take control of piloting the machine that is his body. His arms feel heavier as they hang limp from his shoulders, his neck falls back as from another back pat and the shouting of Bruiser he burps again, *BURRP* shorter, deeper. He feels his arms straining his sleeves and a gut that shouldn’t be there pushing against the buttons of his shirt.

Stains begin to make themselves clear in his pits as he grows sweaty from the effort of, drinking? Growing? Struggling to keep his mind? His declining mind accelerates as the smell of his own musk begins to assail his nose. He’s unable to fight the urge to laugh as a hand unfamiliar, clumsy and thick scratches into his pits. He has the clear memory of putting deodorant on his almost hairless pits this morning before leaving the house for, uh- surely not to come here right? 

No no, he had something to do. It’s Saturday. Usually on Saturdays he has work? “YO BENJ!” Bruiser shouts into his ear, “YOU WANT ANOTHER DRINK?” Benji nods wordlessly as whatever shred of himself is left in his mind tries to remember. Yeah he had work, it’s why he’s wearing this button up- He looks down to see a stained shirt, skin clearly peaking through a litany of tears through. He grumbles as his head hurts, he scratches at his itchy chest as it begins to pattern with hair. Suddenly his nose twitches as he smells something. 

Grimacing at the stink he moves to smell his own pits and laughs once more, unaware he’s caught himself in some perverse feedback loop. Man though, he would’ve sworn he sprayed some axe before heading out? He scratches his chin with his pit-sweat covered fingers as he remembers sniffing them at the house and flinching before spraying the forests with at least a few coats. Yeah he’d never leave for, uhh- looking down he sees the shirt has now completely shredded off, leaving him topless as his beer gut continues to fill out and shift 

His once waifish treasure trail spreads to cover his thickening waist as he grows a beer belly that makes it clear this is not his first rodeo. Looking down at his meatier torso his mouth falls open as his struggling mind grinds slower, he’s not- this isn’t him. His body rocks as Bruiser returns and throws an arm around him, “Sorry it took so long BJ- You know how it be huhuh! Had to show a couple bitches who was boss!” 

Benj reflexively raises a fist to bump his bro, discarding a bottle he can’t remember downing to do so, nor does he realize that he seems to be in control of his body once more. Scratching at his crotch he goes to grab the drink Bruiser brought him and he remembers he can always ask his main bro what’s up, “Yo uhhhh, Bruise? Did I have somethin’ tah do today?” Bruiser smirks as he hears the man’s plodding, clearly thoughtless voice, “Fuckin’ yeah bro! You had to show those fuckers who’s boss!”

BJ stares mouth ajar for a few seconds as his existence recontextualizes itself. Sure he’s a student but C’s get degrees huhuh, Bruise’ll have a job for him at his dad’s firm when he graduates anyway. The new tank’s mouth grows into a wide smirk as he remembers that the only thing college is about is having a blast. “YEAH DUDE!” All eyes turn as the man’s new voice tears through the tailgate party, “LET’S SHOW THOSE BITCHES WHAT A REAL FOOTBALL TEAM LOOKS LIKE!” Foam sloshes out of his cup as he raises it in the air, before pouring it on himself and shouting some more.

His resounding cheers are echoed by the crowd of people around him, many almost spitting images of himself and Bruiser. Burly beer soaked men guffawing and toned men only concerned with vanity muscles, all drowning themselves in jungle juice until the game starts. Most frats on campus have sororities over for the shindigs but not the ΒΔΑ guys, no their quarry is all those fuckers who think they’re too good to have a good time. BJ smirks as any prior desires are completely paved over by the idea of molding some pansy little fucker into a real man, just like him, just like his pres.

Indeed he and Bruiser go about the crowd like predators, hungrily seeking out people who were harangued to come to the game. Offering wallflowers drinks and watching as their hair bleaches platinum, pecs bursting through newly bought faux jersey’s. Giving frat-thirsty twinks a chance to become their quarry sweat stained sunglasses and delighting as they fill crop tops to bursting, new furry bellies and hairy below the belt bulges making their intentions clear for all.

 In no time at all Bruiser has a platoon of brother’s behind him, all suddenly excited for the game and otherwise finding the newly stubbled mouths of their fellow brothers. The president’s eyes scan the rowdy crowd around him with glee, excited to sample his new brothers after the game, but none is he more excited to ravish than his new number two, BJ.

When kick off nears he bumps his new brother on the shoulder, the same he clutched when the fucker thought his prissy little job was important. “Yo bro, game’s about to start- Let’s head on in-” BJ’s glassy eyes wrinkle with a smile as he begins to stumble alongside his bro, excited to watch his team stomp. Excited to just watch another game. “LET’S FUCKIN’ GO BRO!” His drunken voice dull and louder than he could dream to near before meeting Bruiser

Even as Brusier clutches his ass his mind stays focused on the upcoming game, though his cock bulges in his shorts either way. His own hand clutches at his bro’s defined waist. God it’s been like a decade since the last rivalry game, and to watch it right by his Bruiser. Man, BJ wouldn't miss this for the world. 

[woso-dreamzzz]

Reina

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You meet Natalia's cat

If you were to describe yourself, you would say you were an animal person. You didn't really make distinctions between whether you were a dog or cat person. You like all animals equally.

Prins was an absolute darling and stuck firmly to your side like he was made for it. He was soft and excitable and was more than able to keep up on your daily runs.

But, it had to be said, there was something about soft, cuddly cats that really got you.

Exactly like the one that was currently rubbing herself all over you.

"She likes you!" Natalia looks delighted, face split wide open in a big smile.

"I like her!"

Reina purrs as you scratch behind her ears, bumping her head more firmly into your hand. Her calico ears twitch slightly when you stop stroking so you redouble your efforts.

Meeting Reina was something that Natalia had been trying to get you to do for weeks now. You'd fully settled in at Barcelona now, even gaining the confidence to stray from her side every now and then and get to know your new teammates privately.

Natalia had been begging you to come over for dinner and meet Reina since the very first week.

You'd put it off for a while with the excuse of getting settled in and then the day you had planned to do it had been taken over by Tia Tana dropping in with strict instructions from your mothers to check you were taking care of yourself.

So, that was why now, you were soaking up all the cat cuddles you could get.

Reina certainly lived up to her name. Elegance seemed to be her main character trait. She was practically show perfect with her long fur and large body.

"Did you just take a picture of me?" You ask when you hear the sound of a phone shutter.

Natalia grins at you. "I have to document this. My two girls, finally meeting." Her tone was wistful and your face burnt red.

You think you kind of like that, being one of Natalia's girls.

"You're lucky she's cute," You reply before smiling down at Reina again," Yes, you are. So cute."

Reina lets out a little chirp before leaning into your space to sniff at your neck. You let her, looking down at the ground to where Prins was whining.

He was doing a good job behaving himself for a puppy so little and Natalia had practically insisted that you bring him along for this occasion.

"Are they ignoring you, little man?" Natalia coos," I'm sorry." She kneels down on the floor to pet him as Reina finally stops sniffing at you.

She brushes her cheek against your shoulder before turning around to peer down at Prins.

Happy with all of this new attention, he jumps up to rest against your legs, stretching as far as he could to greet Reina.

She looks a little insulted by him but leans down to properly make her decision. She stares, unblinking for several seconds before leaping down from your lap.

She inspects Prins at his level which is kind of funny because she towers over him.

She baps him over the head a few times before clearly deciding that he's hers because she tries to pick him up by the scuff of his neck.

It doesn't quite work because he's a bit too big for that so she just kind of ends up herding him where she wants him to go before settling down and grooming him.

Natalia joins you on the sofa, an arm automatically thrown over your shoulders as she settles by your side.

"She likes him."

"I think she thinks that he's her kitten."

"That's sweet. I'm glad they're getting along." She smirks at you, her arm tightening around you. "That means I never have to let you leave."

You roll your eyes. "Except for training."

"Except for training," Natalia agrees," But you agree then? That I should keep you and Prins here?"

"I don't think Reina will let him leave."

You both look over to watch Reina firmly drag Prins back into the cat bed when he tries to leave. He sends you a wounded look as you laugh when Reina practically sits on him and focusses her attention on grooming his back.

"It's the Scandinavian in her," You reply.

Natalia groans good-naturedly. "I take it back. You and Prins can leave. I don't want to be outnumbered by three Scandinavians."

"I mean," You shrug," Technically only Reina and I are Scandinavians. Finland doesn't count."

"But Norway does?! How's that fair?"

You laugh. "Have you ever looked at a map? Finland doesn't count as Scandinavia."

"Your countries confuse me," Natalia laughs too.

"I can leave now, if you really want." You jokingly move to get up but Natalia keeps a firm grip on you. It feels nice, like being wrapped up safely in your baby blanket again and you sag into Natalia's body against yours.

Her arms move from your shoulders because of the change of position. You're sitting between her legs now, splayed out on the sofa and she wraps her arms gently around your waist.

Her grip is firm though and two fingers draw soft patterns on your hip, occasionally going up and under your shirt to draw circles on your side.

The pressure of her hands on you makes your head go a little floaty. You've never seen Natalia do this with any of your teammates at training but it's private here, in her home, so you suppose that she feels like she can be a bit more touchy.

Friendships back home weren't like this. You'd be hard pressed to find any of your friends willing to even hold your hand let alone your waist so this is dangerously new territory.

Selfishly, you wish that her hand would go a bit lower. It makes you feel guilty even entertaining the thought because Natalia's your friend and it isn't right to take advantage of her touchiness.

You can feel her breath on the back of your neck though and it makes your blush spread all through your body.

"So," You manage to get out, desperately trying to not get lost in the feeling of Natalia against you," Are we having dinner or what?"

"My company isn't enough?"

"Your company is perfect," You assure her, desperately wishing she knew just how perfect she really was," But, seriously, I was promised cat cuddles and food. I've had the cuddles. I need the food."

"Maybe we'll hold off on dinner for a bit longer," Natalia says," I like this position too much to move. Is that good with you?"

"That's perfectly fine with me."

[iceclew]

"Why the hell, can't I save you once for a change?!"

You can't tell me Hans didn't look back at least once on his journey to Maleschau and be in agony. No matter if you're a Hansry shipper or not, I feel like he must be horrified by the thought of his friend's/friends' fate in Trosky.

I feel like we get a lot of hints for that in the following gameplay as well. You can talk about his travel and time at Maleschau with him (and I will succesfully ignore the fact, he says he sat on a cart while traveling, ok - I had that drawn out already, give me this for god's sake) But more so, when you leave Maleschau together and pass the burnt down village, and Hans is shocked and frustrated by what noblemen do for power. I love this so much about him, he perfectly knows what it is expected from a noblemen, but never experienced what that means for other people around him. As for Henry, I like to headcanon that this was the moment he started gaslighting himself to be of no use as a nobleman and worse - not even as friend, since he isn't able to help and save him even once. And that thought is haunting him day and night until he finally snaps at Suchdol later on.

-----------

DOES HE LOOK LIKE HANS?!

NOT AT ALL!

DID I GO MAD WORKING OUT THIS IDEA?!

OMG, A 100%, YES!!

Another perfect example how, no idea, no matter how great, won't get you anywhere if you don't have a receipt on how to get through with it.. I changed my style with these pages SO MUCH. Redid things, decided midway on trying on going semi-realistic, only to get have everthing quite done and to look at it and be like....well fuck, i don't like it... it's just...flat.. At this point I am just exhausted, and I need to force myself to stop changing things..because I DO LIKE IT.. I NEED TO FORCEFULLY REMEMBER MYSELF THAT I DO, cause all I see is the flaws and mistakes, but not the general idea I got out there, even if it was cut short in comparison to my initial idea, even if its not realistic in the end, even if Hans doesn't look like him and his hair is one single mess right there.. I imagine this is what differs from people that get to study art, you have a better idea of your receipt and the steps you need to take, and when to take them. I for myself stumble a lot, going back and forth, making a mess of my files and layers.. But then again.. I feel like I brought out on "paper" what I wanted to. And that's enough for me right now...

Song recommendation for this one was hard... and I'll go with a weird one :D I dunno I like the choire-like parts of the song.

My more platonic recommendation would be

[fatkish]

(Artwork not mine. Found on Pinterest)

Aizawa x Autistic Cat-Quirk Reader (gn)

Your quirk allows you to transform into a domestic cat (not breed specific, so whatever breed is your favorite) you don’t really have a time limit for your transformation so you can stay as a cat for however long you like, the drawback is how long it takes for your mind to adjust between the forms.

Whenever you’re stressed, anxious or burnt out you tend to use your quirk and escape from the responsibilities or whatever situation upset you.

The neighborhood you live in is relatively peaceful and some of the people recognize your cat form as the unofficial neighborhood cat.

During the day you work at a cat cafe. Your boss knows about your quirk and how you tend to use it as a tool for your Autism. Your boss allows you to use your quirk at work if you’re getting overwhelmed and doesn’t dock your pay so long as you interact with customers as much as possible.

It was during an attempted robbery of the cafe that you met Aizawa.

One morning a man with a disheveled appearance who was extremely tired looking had come into the cafe along with a blond man with glasses wearing a lot of leather. One of your coworkers had taken their orders and was getting it ready when a guy walked in. This guy had been here the day before and had given you this off vibe.

Recognizing this guy you left the counter and walked into the back office where your boss works. Along with your quirk, you have an ability to sense things about people and animals. That’s why your boss hired you because you had told him about one of the cafe cats that was sick and ended up saving that cat’s life.

You told him about the bad vibe you got and he walked out with you and decided to handle it. As the guy got to the register to order, your boss stood with a ‘customer service’ smile as he took the guys order.

Due to your cat-like senses, you smelled the gunpowder before anyone had an idea of the guy’s true intentions. You shifted into your cat form and jumped onto the counter by the register and with your back arched and fur standing up your bared your teeth hissing at him.

The guy acted all calm pretending to try to calm an anxious cat and reached for you but you scratched him. He jumped back, seeing the blood from your scratch he got angry and shot a spike from his finger that scratched you as you dodged. He then pulled out a gun and tried to shoot you only for the scruffy man and the blonde to expertly take him down.

The police were called and arrested the guy. Turns out he had robbed a few other places. His quirk lets him shoot out small spikes that are laced with a chemical toxin that, while it isn’t fatal, can cause paralysis, hallucinations, delirium and blackouts.

Aizawa and Hizashi left afterwards and went on with their day. Unknown to them and your coworkers that you had been hit with the guys toxin.

Delirious and confused you somehow managed to leave the cafe and had been wandering around all day. That night the effects had finally wore off but you had gotten yourself lost. Anxious and exhausted you had no idea how to get home so you settled down in an alley to sleep.

After a few minutes you heard some people talking and could smell the scent of cigarette smoke and alcohol. Three dudes had walked into the alley and were smoking when one of them pulled out some illicit drugs.

You tried to sneak away but jumped when you ran into a garbage can. The noise caught their attention as their eyes landed on you. One of them smirked and tried to grab you but missed. Another guy used his quirk to make the weeds under your paws wrap around your leg. The third guy grabbed you by the scruff of your neck and picked you up holding you out in front of him.

The other two laughed and walked over to him “what’s wrong little kitty? We ain’t gonna hurt ‘cha” the plant guy slurred. “We just wanna play” the other guy said. They were about the mess with you when a white banded wrapped around the guys hand.

“I suggest you put the cat down and go home unless you three punks want to go to jail” the bandage released from the guys hand as they looked down the alleyway and saw two glowing red dots. “Aww shit, it’s a pro” the guys fled the area and ran.

You were dropped when they fled and landed roughly. You stood up to get your bearings when a shadow fell over you. You looked up at yellow goggles and black hair. Scared you started walking back with your back arched and hissing. The man knelt down and started clicking his tongue and wiggling his fingers beckoning your towards him.

You didn’t sense any ill intent, slowly you walked towards his outstretched hand and sniffed it. After deeming him friendly enough you pushed your head into his hand. He started scratching your head, making you purr. He scooped you up into his arms as you rubbed your face into his stubble.

“I remember you, you’re from that cafe, you’re a far ways from home.” You snuggled into him enjoying his scent and purring in bliss. “Alright, alright, I’ll take you home.” The man held you with one arm and used his scarf to swing from a lamppost onto a building. As he ran towards a certain direction all you could do was fixate on the feeling of being in his arms.

After awhile he jumped down from a roof and gently set you down. You looked up noticing the cafe sign above its door. You look back up at him and began rubbing yourself against his legs as a thanks. He chuckled and knelt down giving you a small scratch under your chin. “Such a friendly little one, don’t worry, I’ll come visit once my shifts over, how ‘bout that?” You meowed up at him and purred. After a few more scratches he stood up and left.

You walked along the building towards the back where the cat door was. All the cafe cats had collars that had special chips in them that worked into the buildings security system. The motion detectors installed by the cat door were designed to detect and read the chips to allow the cats to get in and out without setting off the alarms.

You had a choker that had a chip in it so you could use it the same as the cats without being too noticeable. You entered the cafe’s back room and decided to stay the night.

The next morning you woke up when your boss unlocked the door. “Oh (y/n) there you are, I was worried when I couldn’t find you after the incident. I checked the cameras and saw you were hit with that hooligan’s quirk. Are you alright?” Your boss asked.

You just meowed and rubbed against his leg letting him know everything’s fine. Your boss was an old man who was very kind. His wife loved cats and wanted to adopt every stray but they didn’t have enough space so they opened up the cafe and used it as a way to take care of the strays and find homes for them through the cafe’s adoption program.

Your boss was sort of like a grandpa figure to you as his wife loves you as a grandchild. After your boss opened up the front door, your coworkers began to prepare for the morning shift. You walked into the cafe’s dining room and began to play with some of the toys.

A few minutes after opening the bell above the door rang indicating the first customer’s entry. You looked up and saw the saw scruffy man from last night. He walked up to the counter and ordered a coffee and a breakfast sandwich.

You immediately ran over to him and jumped onto the counter and then onto his shoulder. “(Y/n), don’t just jump on someone without warning” your Boss said. “Ah so you must be (y/n), nice to meet you.” The man said as he scratched your chin after sitting down at a table.

After you nuzzled against the man you accidentally transformed back into your human form. Still on your hands and knees your meowed. Your boss then walked over and put his hand on your head and showed you your reflection with the small pocket mirror he keeps on him.

Seeing your reflection you scrambled to your feet and ran away into the back room where the cats sleep and transformed hiding from the embarrassment of your situation. Meanwhile your boss sat down and explained what just happened to Aizawa and told him about your situation. He thanked Aizawa for looking after you.

After having a nice chat and introducing his wife to Aizawa, your boss got up to feed the cats and tending to a few more customers, your boss saw Aizawa leave. Your boss walked into the back room and told you that he left.

You transformed back and groaned about how embarrassed you were. The boss’s wife walked in and smiled as she pat your back. “Don’t worry dear, I doubt that man has any issue with it. There’s no need to be embarrassed about anything, cheer up dear.” She said as she rubbed your back. As you got your apron on and tidied yourself up to look presentable for your next shift the boss’s wife poked her head into the room. “Oh and you should be expecting a call or text from that handsome man asking you out. Make sure to tell me how your date goes” she called as she walked away

(Comment if you want a part 2)

[fyxestroll]

Could I ask for some fluff with Guilleman?

pairing: roboute guilliman x reader (fem.)

warnings: none

notes: im so sorry this took so long 😭😭😭 writing roboute is such a challenge for me im so sorry 😭

Roboute is hiding something.

That was nothing new, secrets go hand in hand with being Lord Regent of the Imperium. Close to his heart as you may be there were just things he couldn’t tell.

But this time time it’s different.

This time it involves you and oddly enough he’s hiding it terribly. Roboute could plan entire campaigns behind your back without you ever knowing so quite frankly this is out of character and—

“You are not allowed inside.”

—Ridiculous. He even got Cato into this!

“Sicarious, it’s–you know what never mind.” You make a move to side-step the Astartes but are easily blocked.

“By the order of Lord Guilliman,” he reiterates, “You are not allowed inside.” In all honesty, he looks ridiculous wearing full armor—including the helmet. You’d think he was guarding some ancient relic or important vantage point but no, Cato Sicarius, commander of the Victrix Guard, Knight Champion of Mcragge, Grand Duke of Talasar and High Suzurain of Ultramar is guarding the kitchen of all places.

It was far too late into the night for these shenanigans. You just wanted a glass of water and apparently, the kitchen has been cordoned off for reasons unknown.

Clang! cursing beyond the door.

Throne! What is going on inside?!

You look up at Cato, staring him down through the glowing red visors of his helmet. “Let me in.” 

“No.”

“Cato.” You huff, hand reaching for your weapon. It did not have to come to this, it should not have come to this.

“Lady.” But he leaves you no choice, remaining steadfast in his foolish task.

“Let. Me. In.”

“For the last time, by the orders–” In a flash of movement, terrifyingly quick by baseline standards, slightly fast—but terrifying all the same to astartes you draw your slipper and hit the side of his thigh. It bounces off the ceremite but it does damage nonetheless.

Cato hisses and shirks back like a wounded animal. The first hit is always a warning, and he knows that if he doesn’t back off, he will be worse off, so with a final glare, he opens the door and lets you in.

As you take in the kitchen's state, the smugness of besting the Victrix Guard commander is short-lived.

The serfs who worked the area were gone, kicked out hours ago when the kitchen was commandeered. Going by the silhouettes of pots that were scattered in a—somehow, organised manner along the stations someone has been here for a while.

The scent of burnt sugar hangs in the air.

“Roboute?” You call out and the hulking figure hunched over a counter slowly turns around. 

“D-dear!” He turns around, stumbling as he does so. Even under minimal lighting, you could see how he shuffles when nervous.  “Why are you awake at this hour?” 

It looks like he’s holding something up from behind.

“I was thirsty,” You answer, approaching the Primarch, “I ordered a servant to fetch me some water only to find out the kitchen had been…commandeered.” Attempting to see what he’s holding you lean forward and get a quick glimpse of a bowl before he lifts it above his head. You infer, that from how he holds it in his palm, it’s simply a large bowl designed for baselines. It’s the sort that the serfs use to prepare nutrient paste.

Figuring, you won’t get anywhere near the truth you decide to switch tactics.“Robu,” you start with a sing-song voice as you trace a finger on his thigh. “Did you expect me to go into the  kitchen tonight?”  

“No,” He shivers ever so slightly under your touch before clearing his throat, “It was a precaution.” 

“So, why did he—under your orders, try to stop me?”

“It’s–I–” He pauses, thinking about the best response before settling with the truth. “I was making something…”

Seriously? That’s it? All this secrecy because your husband decided to try a new hobby? Hah! Like that’s all there is to it.

“And…” you probe, voice sickly sweet, “What is that something?” Roboute gulps and you knew he’d fold any moment now. He mutters something in a timbre beyond the hearing range of a normal baseline.

“What?”

He hesitates, and cringes before finally lowering the bowl he held above your head. “Custard tarts Your favorite.” Roboute repeats, presenting the bowl to you. An expression of surprise makes its way to your face as you catch a whiff of a sweet milky scent that confirms his earlier statement.

“Why?” is all you could say in response.

Your husband stiffens, “To make it up to you.”

“For what?” You can’t recall anything he’s done to make you upset.

“For lost time.”

You could only look at him fondly before gesturing for him to kneel to which he complies. It wasn’t every day you’d see a Primarch kneel, to others at least but not to you, “Roboute, come here,” you cup his cheeks, “I know who I married and I knew what I was getting to when I did.” 

His brows furrow torn between your comfort and the thousand other things running through his mind. You couldn’t help but plant a kiss on his cheek, “And I know that on most days the Imperium will take priority-" He opens his mouth to counter but you shush him before he can continue. “We…we won’t ever be a normal couple.”

He looks down, guilty, “but I don’t care about that, I never did.”

“Why?” Roboute asks voice low and vulnerable.

“Because, we can’t lose time we don’t have, silly. You make time for me even when the Imperium demands every waking moment from you.” Lesser men have struggled with much less and despite the lonely hours of the night you know he tries, he always does. “That’s enough for me, my love.”

A large hand places itself on your back, “It shouldn’t be.”

“It shouldn’t be,” you agree, leaning your forehead against his “but it is what it is.” Life is cruel like that. It gave you your other half and it steals him still. How many nights have you spent alone? How many times could you do nothing but watch as he bore the crushing weight of the Imperium alone? 

You’ve lost count a long time ago.

But this, the warmth of Roboute’s, and the signs of effort littered in this kitchen remind you that despite that, he loves you.

 He loves you.

That is enough.

And it seems your beloved Robu had only just realised that now. 

You envelop him in a deep embrace, whispering sweet nothings. Soon, warm tears wet your back and leave your nightgown soaked when you pull away.

You don’t point it out.

“We will have better days, my love,” you promise, “but for now…I think we should clean up.”

[the-moon-files]

As I work on my college assignments that I have missed due to being sick I can't help but think *damn* I would absolutely hate being transported to another world due to all my responsibilities. Like, even if it was that zero time occurring between getting back home I wouldn't want that, because fuck what if time did pass? What if I got fired from my job or missed on rent and all my stuff got thrown out of my apartment?? I love the idea of being away from my responsibilities but I hate having to go back to more and more things I have to more things I have to make up or have just missed.

Anyway, my brain suddenly attached this to a reader who got stuck in the linked universe. The emotions they would go through because their mind isn't stuck on the past or present but in the future. What if they had pets? Who'd take care of them? How would they pay their bills if they got stuck in an alternate universe? It's a sudden absence of these things that really trip them up because they had so much to do and now it's all gone. They can actually live now. But also they weren't built to live life outside of the weird society we have. How can they learn to live if the way they'd been living was nothing but a mental ladder to keep up with. How can they keep going knowing that back home there are important events and people and animals that they are missing out on.

-✒️ (Sorry for the long ask I'm an a very existential mood rn)

Sorry this is such a late reply!! I've had a "fanfic author curse" kinda year tbh, so I'm just now getting back into my hobbies :/

(i just got so burnt out by life i wasn't even in the mood to play the video games, let alone touch my blogs/write for them :( which is sad bc i love talking to you guys /gen)

So, I hope this late response is okay, and college and things these days are going better for you anon!!

_

BRO RLLY DROPPED MY WORST FEARS IN MY MAIL BOX ON A GODDAMN?? WEDNESDAY EVENING??? 😭😭 /LH

NO but SERIOUSLY this is genuinely a fear ive had in realistic isekai scenario situations,

So for like a year, maybe 2 now? Ive been obsessively consuming "isekai/reincarnation/transmigration anime" or this trope that somehow someway a character is misplaced from their original timeline, maybe just mysteriously yoinked/died/possessed another body in a diff universe, whatever, either way theyre There now, in a diff universe. And animes consistently gloss over this transitional period, that i can see real ppl actually having, to just sort of accept and move on, of course yo get the plot rolling.

But i guess theres just not quite enough sort of nitty-gritty isekai content yet for anyone to get have finally made an isekai genre thing that really goes on the other side of the spectrum, where the MC is like, well, THIS^^^

Like unless ur actually a hermit, youve either pushed away all ur family anf friends or theyve passed away, and you dont have a pet, pr whatever/whoever else,

ive learned after sort of coming out of teen years/rlly long depressive episodes that, Someone will always notice you. Theyll notice youre gone, and theyll miss you.

Like ppl hit u with that angsty, "nobody cares abt me" and then when u realistically sit them down like, "okay. What about your favorite teacher? What about your best friend? What about your online friends who will never see you log on again? What about your dog?"

Like yeah, who will take care of your dog?? Becaue where im at in life, if my sibling dies, ive got no one to care about my old girl, my kitty Mia <3 whos loved me since i was 12 😭

So, ive been actually wanting to fill in somewhat this gap in isekai genre by sort of expanding on it, i mean to be honest fanfiction is the only media ive seen thats gotten close to tackling this, with any amount of realism/emotional depth it deserves.

i hope u found this any amount of satisfying response, i probably would take this is in either a complete horror fashion/tragic scenario (which i don't write that often tbh) or a sort of "angst with a happy ending" like MC/reader worrying freaking out abt homeworld but there's a portal to let you go between worlds or smth

Peace out ✒️,

🌙📁

(i found a file emoji - how do we feel abt it??)

[sematarygirls]

               MORPHINE ANIMALS.

♯┆"this may just be a vacation for you, cameron, but it's my life," ⏤ in which, rafe cameron joins a pogue band in an attempt to rebel against his father and show him that he does have ambitions, even if they're unconventional, but everything goes awry when he finds himself having to choose between his cushy, luxurious lifestyle and the gritty, raw world of rock n' roll, challenging everything he's ever thought he wanted.

       NAV ! Part Double Zero. Part Zero.

 🎧 ⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ ─── INTRODUCING THE BAND.

[THE CAMERA SMASHCUTS FROM A SERENIC OCEANVIEW OF THE SUNSET TO A BLURRED SHOT OF A DINGY BASEMENT. LOUD ROCK MUSIC REVERBERATES THROUGHOUT THE ROOM]

          HERE IS.... MORPHINE ANIMALS !

 🎤 ⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ ─── 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄.

rock n' roll soul .ᐟ  lead singer of morphine animals.  555.  bell bottoms.  smudged eyeliner.  band tees . faded denim.  setlists scribbled on bar napkins. cigarette butts.  cheap leather.  vinyl records.

    [THE CAMERA FOCUSES ON A GIRL, RED LIGHT FLOODING HER FACE AS SHE SINGS INTO A MICROPHONE MOUNTED ON A STAND, ADDING TO THE GRUNGY ATMOSPHERE OF THE OTHERWISE DARK ROOM.]

    [JOHN B'S VOICE EMERGES OVER THE MUSIC]: See that girl right there?

    [THE CAMERA SLOWLY ZOOMS ON HER FACE, FITTED WITH A BIG, GLEAMING GRIN AS SHE FEELS THE MUSIC FLOW THROUGH HER BODY, EACH WORD FALLING FROM HER LIPS WITH PRACTICED EASE]

    [JOHN B VOICEOVER]: That's Y/N Y/L/N, but she goes by NICKNAME. She claims it's more "rock and roll," whatever that means. She's a Pogue, probably one of the coolest I know—but don't tell her I said that. She's got a killer voice. I think she's a natural born star, but she says that pogues can never make it beyond this island.

                     UP NEXT...

 🎸 ⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ ─── 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐊.

adrenaline junkie .ᐟ  guitar god.  666.  calloused fingertips.  spilled beer.  stained tees.  sun-kissed skin.  guitar pick necklaces.  burnt out cigarettes. band posters. gradfitied walls. bonfires.

    [THE CAMERA SLOWLY PANS TO THE SIDE, FOCUSING ON THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM. A BOY'S EYES ARE SHUT TIGHT, HIS HANDS WORKING THE CHORDS OF AN OLD, RED ELECTRIC GUITAR, NICKS AND SCAPES LITTERING THE VARNISH, GIVING IT A WORN, ROCK N ROLL FEEL]

    [JOHN B VOICEOVER]: That handsome blondie right there would be JJ Maybank, my best friend since birth. He can absolutely shred on the guitar, but he really only joined to make Y/N happy. His motto is to have a good time, all the time. Plus, as he always says, being famous wouldn't hurt..

                   AND FINALLY...

 🥁 ⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ ─── 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍.

rebellious rich boy .ᐟ  badass drummer.  888. whiskey breath.  dilated pupils.  fast cars.  bloody knuckles. gold chains.  expensive cologne.  designer jeans. drumsticks and bad decisions.  cocaine residue.

    [THE MUSIC CEASES AS THE SONG COMES TO AN END. THE CAMERA ZOOMS BACK OUT, ALLOWING A WIDE-ANGLED SHOT OF THE ROOM THAT INTRODUCES A VISUAL OF A THIRD PERSON SITTING BEHIND A DRUMSET. HIS LIGHT BROWN HAIR, TYPICALLY SLICKED BACK IN A NEAT MANNER, IS STICKING OUT IN ALL DIRECTIONS, BEADS OF SWEAT GLISTENING ON HIS FOREHEAD AS SOME STRANDS CLING TO HIS FACE. HE LICKS HIS LIPS, LETTING OUT A LABORED BREATH.]

    [JOHN B'S VOICE CUTS BACK IN, THE FAINT ADMIRATION THAT WAS PRESENT BEFORE NOW COMPLETELY GONE, REPLACED BY ANNOYANCE]: Last and certainly least is Rafe Cameron—so called, Kook prince and king of the assholes. He's only in the band because they couldn't find another drummer good enough. Unfortunately, musicians are sparse in Kildare.

                BUY TICKETS HERE !

                                ୭ৎ

notes .ᐟ not as aesthetic as i wanted, but i hope you guys like it !! i'm not sure how i'll tell this story yet, but i think i want the next part to be the track list, and then every chapter is a "track" (soleil stop making such complicated series challenge!!!)

tags .ᐟ   @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @lovemesailor / @all4l0vee / @kissesfrmriri / @bradshawed / @rafeslittleangel / @bakugouswaif / @fakedhearts / @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 / @piastrify / @kisselxoll (you can ask to be added or removed at any time !!)

[frazzledrazzled]

Thing's I'd put in the Australian version of Ghosts if I was making it

If you haven't heard, an Australian version of the BBC's popular show Ghosts has been confirmed! So far, there is a finished UK version, and ongoing (I believe?) USA version, German and French versions in production, and now the upcoming Australian version. (Now I know there's a bit of information out there already about the setup of the show but I haven't been able to access that so I know nothing about it aside from it exists.) So, as an Australian, here's what I'd love to see in it:

An Aboriginal ghost from thousands of years ago as well as an Aboriginal ghost from the last 30ish years - remind people that Aboriginal Australians are the oldest ongoing culture in the world

The mansion to have not always been a family home. Maybe like a boarding school or something, with some ghosts who were students there (or maybe teachers, as actors playing students would age much more noticeably. Actually a headmaster could be a good Fanny/ Hetty counterpart)

If not that, then maybe it's on a big bit of farmland - very Australian. Could let the livings discover news ghosts throughout the show as they explore all the nooks and crannies of the vast place

A different take on the main pair of livings would be cool. Maybe best friends, or house mates, or a sapphic couple?

Remember that ghost pigeon from the UK version? I want ghosts of extinct animals. Give me a megafauna kangaroo ghost PLEASE

If it's set in Victoria, some gold miners! There were a lot of Chinese gold miners too, so a Chinese ghost could be a chance to remind the audience that Australia is a multicultural society, and has been for a few hundred years

If in Victoria, and if there are gold miner ghosts, them finding out about Sovereign Hill would be a delight. (I say this even as my best friend's family are higher-ups at Sov Hill) the ghosts pointing out historical inaccuracies would be funny

A ghost who says he was part of the Kelly Gang (Ned Kelly's crew) a la how Black Pete from Our Flag Means Death talks about working with Blackbeard. Our claimed Kelly Gang member really only met Ned Kelly once, or was in the gang for only a week before dying in an embarrassing, unrelated way - Humphrey Bone core

A Kiwi ghost that they all ignore and shut down. Maybe they all talk about him like he's a lameass and a prick and all, then the livings finally meet him (he's been banished to a far corner of the property) and he's a decorated, brave ANZAC soldier who's very kind of heart and wants nothing but peace with the other ghosts. But the ghosts all hate him for being Kiwi (uniting the variety of ghosts in the show with a common "enemy"). Not to make fun of ANZACs or our war history, but more to poke fun at the way we hate Kiwis

Obligatory arrow-through-the-neck ghost was a camp counsellor who was shot by a kid who was on school camp with his primary school. Everyone has horrific injuries from school camp stories, so it could be a recent ghost and the living woman saying like "yeah and I once got a fishing hook in my hand on camp" "I once burnt myself trying to cook damper" and the counsellor saying "yeah well i once got shot and killed on a school camp, so."

FOOTY. Even as a Norflag truther, a ghost of a North Melbourne player from the early 1900s (when they were doing well) watching how badly they're going now would be a bit of fun

A ghost who died in the Great Emu War. The ghost: "I was in a war once" The living: "Oh my god are you an ANZAC? I had no idea" The ghost: "... not quite."

We have a great history of taking the piss out of our politicians, and also just not caring about them at all, so a Julian (from the UK version) counterpart would be very well received

KYLIE MINOGUE CAMEO (she was mentioned and cameod in the UK version)

And obviously, some cheeky references to the other versions

But whatever the show ends up to be, I'm really looking forward to it!

[chickenclan]

Hi! Call me chi-chi I am a big rottmnt fan as well as 1987 and 2003 I am a multifandom digital artist, would you like to be friends?

YESSSS CHI CHI ID LOVE THAT

also am I going to use this as an excuse to personally showcase you my tmnt iteration because I need to show someone? Hell no, what kind of Neanderth-

Listen, at heart I am a liar

Basically the premise is what would happen if the turtles were raised in a lab? By Baxter Stockman?

Answer: Angst. Lots of angst. And an excuse to make Donnie the oldest and Leo the youngest HAHAAAAAA

aHEM

The main storyline is that Baxter Stockman has been mocked by the scientific community after his outlandish theory of creating mutants out of normal animals (in his defense, there was no way to prove it without violating some sort of ethical law).

So he went into hiding and created his family. The perfect family. One that was as smart as him, but would finally give him his well deserved praise for his inventions and his endeavors. He chose turtles. Bought them from a store. He always liked them.

I present:

BSMT

Baxter Stockman’s Mutant Turtles

Translation in case you can’t read my sorry excuse of handwriting

Donnie

Based off of ‘03, ‘19, and ‘87

The best at ninjutsu (according to Stockman)

Yes I said it

Wears goggles at all times because he works with Baxter Stockman a lot and the ✨autism✨

Pretty good with kids

Actually his affectionate side is something to be said for

(Also Raph’s but don’t tell him I said that)

But don’t get me wrong this guy is a ✨gossip✨

He and Raph are the ✨gossip✨ queens

And has that older sister sassy glare almost all older siblings have

He teaches a very eager Leo ninjutsu, but will often ramble on the physics of a certain move like a Ted Ed narrator, which is not good for a child with ADHD

Raph

Based off of ‘87, ‘12, and ‘18

Used to be a pretty emotional kid who was prone to outbursts, but Baxter often “chastised” him for that, so now he’s very logical with his anger and only lets it out at certain times when he feels like he’s safe

Sarcastic and rude but hoo boy only the rats will know what happened to you if you dare lay a hand on his brothers

Very good at cooking, mask tails burnt off in a cooking accident 

Will tease but won’t dare hurt his brothers

When the family is finally with Splinter he secretly practices Japanese poems (like haikus) and calligraphy with him

Just develops a love for writing poems in general to help deal with his anger in healthy ways, unlike just bottling it and keeping it down in their times with Stockman

Also he becomes a lot more chaotic when he doesn’t have to be as quiet and composed around Stockman. He and Leo love to team up for pranks

Mikey

Based off of ‘87 (do I spy a pattern?)

Just very chill

Likes to listen to lofi and Bossa Nova

Ties his bandana lopsidedly because of course

Reads Calvin and Hobbes with Donnie, magazines with Raph and manga with Leo

The “face man” of the group

Pretty good with talking to people (him and Donnie, although it’s Mikey that craves being social)

Very good sharpshooter

The one guy who will side with Donnie at all times whenever the younger siblings are doing shenanigans (PBJ duo fr fr)

Because he’s the empath he hates fights and will usually try to stop them

Twins with Leo!

Leo

Based off of Rise and Calvin and Hobbes

AuDHD

Very chaotic

He and Mikey have the same mask lengths due to them being twins but Leo manages to tie his correctly

Likes to cosplay sci-fi superheroes like Captain Kirk and Spaceman Spiff (the whole fam is fans of Calvin and Hobbes since Baxter Stockman is too)

Despite being the youngest he’s actually very good at ninjutsu with his katanas

Bro is a force to be reckoned with

Very good at pranks

Also yearns to know what’s outside their lab, which causes problems with Baxter Stockman’s rule to never go outside the lab

Bonus image: excuse the monkey arms on this unfinished drawing of my twins I just got started doing art of anthropomorphic turtles

[kittywhoo]

matchup for.. @haruka-norikoyo!

(I loveee your drawing so much) but anyways, heres your matchup, for the anime, Tokyo Revengersss!

possible runner ups-

1st Runner-Up: Hakkai Shiba!

Ok listen, Hakkai would fall so HARD for you. Look, hes quiet, honestly kinda awkward but a total SWEETHEART!! Just imagine it, hed be completely mesmerized by you, i mean, your observant and intelligent, what else could a man like Hakkai ask for? youre introverted, yet you can hold a conversation, that’s something he would really appreciate. And your unexpected out of pocket humor? Hakkai would be laughing his ass off every time, even if its in private.

Anywayss since youre more of a hopeless romantic, he would so melt if you complimented him 😭 the works, his eyes blank out, he freezes, he becomes so flustered, ADORABLE! (I might snatch your man up)

Cute Headcanon(s):

There would absolutely be study dates, but honestly, hakkai would just be watching you.

I mean cmonnn how your lashes flutter while you think about something?? Yeah hed think its so incrediblly adorable

The SECOND this man can finds you have a cute stuffed animal? Yeah hes buying a blue version for himself

would keep any gifts you give him, he would treat it like a sacred artifact

2nd Runner-Up: Mitsuya Takashi!

This dude is the DEFINITION of a supportive boyfriend. Hes calm, responsible, and admires hardworking people. (Never thought id say this again in one matchup, im going to snatch your man)

Anyways, he would DEFINITELY respect how active you are at school. But regarding your daydreaming, his official answer would be, “id never make fun of your daydreaming”but hed secretly find it adorable.

Cute headcanon(s)

youre picky? Mitsuya would straight adjust the recipe just for you. Without even having to ask,

he would absolutely remember your likes and dislikes

If you EVER get overwhelmed or even just burnt out, guess what happens next?

Mitsuya borderline FORCES you to take a break, like making you a hot brew of tea. (Stay strong sister 😔✊)

Would honestly make your plushie tiny clothes, just because.

definition of a patient person, youre being picky? He takes it off your plate and moves on.

3rd Runner-Up: “Smiley” Kawata!

HEAR ME OUT! It would be giving opposites attract. Smiley is pure chaos, but he’d adore love how unexpectedly funny you are. You didnt hear it from me, but he would absolutely tease you on the height diff. Your introverted, but unpredictable personality would fascinate him on a deeper note.

Cute Headcanon(s):

Sigh, he would poke your cheek every time you space out, just to ne annoying 😔

Youre stressed from school? Or work? Yeah, a completely unnecessary adventure is NEEDED

WOULD steal your glasses and wear them, just because,

Final Matchup: Chifuyu Matsuno! Oh, dear Haruka. HE is THE ONE!

Its Chifuyu, i mean he would practically WORSHIP the ground you walk on. You think you’re a hopeless romantic? Yeah, meet this guy over here. He’d ROMANTICIZE you. Like, the first time you casually showed him kindess or made him laugh unintentionally? Yeah hes whipped. But he genuinely respects you for your hard work and intelligence.

Cute Headcanon(s):

You space out? He just watches you like a lovesick fool.

Would absolutely love your plushes

WOULD support your ultimate frisbee matches like those hardcore football watchers (😟 just got alittle scared writing that to be honest)

you give him a gift?

pleaseee its bad for his mental state, i mean he already adores you, but you giving him a thoughtful gift?

He almost collapses.

—-🌑

yeahh.. so this was quite a match for me, it started off normal, than I threatened to take your man (x2) to being traumatized from football watchers (American football) sighhh 😔

HOPE YOU LIKE IT THOOO, omg i swear, writing these matches seem like time flies.

I also lOVE your rin drawing like omg 🤭?? You have me on my knees, But sorry for not waiting to see your answer for the question i sent you, I couldn’t wait to post this. But honestly Chifuyu and Hakkai are switchable. Your choice

thank youu ❤️

[yuri-is-online]

Seven Plus One Happy Haunts (An 800 Followers Thank You)

"NRC is having a culture festival?" You blurt out, immediately drawing the attention of everyone in your class. Normally this interruption would be met with a swift smack, but the thought doesn't even flicker across Crewel's mind much to the envy of your classmates. Instead, something similar to a stress headache seems to work it's way across his face as he takes a brief pause to breathe.

"I take it the Headmage has neglected to inform you of this?" He says it like a question, but really it sounds more like he is begging you to prove him wrong. "He was supposed to ask your permission."

"Permission for what?!" You try not to sound too panicked but that's difficult when Crewel's normal sternness re-emerges to silence Ace and Deuce's whispers.

"Sit!" He cracks his crop and returns to the black board. "And Yuu, once classes are done for the day, meet me back here. It will be much easier for me to explain things to you and Grim than sending you on a wild crow chase." Oh you don't like the sound of that at all. ~~~~ By the time classes are over, you are drooping under the weight of an entire school's worth of whispers and surprised you remember your way back to your Homeroom.

"Where's Grim?" Crewel asks, though he doesn't sound terribly worried. So it's bad news bad news.

"He decided to ditch me for Ace and Deuce and I didn't have the energy to chase him down, sorry." Your book bag drops with just as dramatic a thunk as you do.

"Let me make you a coffee, you are going to need some." Crewel sighs. "As you might be aware, culture festivals tend to involve things like booths and side show games."

"Typically they're run by the classes or clubs, right?" You aren't really liking where this is going.

"In anime and at normal schools yes. And if this had been any other year that would be the case for us too but someone-" the same tension headache from this morning reappears, "got the bright idea to suggest that we form groups by putting the entire student body into an ai generator of some sort to encourage team work or something like that."

"Oh." No wonder Crewel can't seem to tell the difference between the containers where he keeps the instant coffee packets and the wet wipes. "Are you ok? Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Very sweet of you to offer pup." He lets you take over the coffee and smiles gratefully when he sees you move to make him a tea. "But back to how this effects you, one of those groups got the bright idea to run a Haunted House, and the Headmage suggested they use Ramshackle for 'authenticity's sake' and generously offered them your assistance as well."

"Compared to some of the other things he's done I guess it could be worse?" Not that you are thrilled, your tone makes that clear. "I mean it's a haunted house, it could be fun. What is it you want me to help out with anyway?"

"That's what they've been arguing over." Crewel looks and sounds very, very tired as you finally notice the growing chatter of voices just outside the classroom door that is finally making an entrance alongside a very familiar face.

"I'm telling you, it makes the most sense for Yuu to help me!"

notes: Thank you all so much for 800 followers! Normally I'd run an event but I got a wee bit burnt out with the last one, so please accept this humble Haunted Mansion themed offering~ And feel free to guess who is who, I originally intended this to be a Halloween themed thing so I picked most of the cast members from boys people thought were getting neglected from the SSR pool (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ Emphasis on most

Haunt 1- Host With the Most: Vil

Haunt 2- Manipulating the Buyers: Rollo

Haunt 3- Life Lines

Haunt 4- Tie the Knot Tango

Haunt 5- Nevermore

Haunt 6- Life Hereafter

Haunt 7- Rest in Peace

Bonus Haunt- ???

Taglist: @nothingfuninthislife

[taffywabbit]

it feels weird to finally get a year where I get to say this but I think maybe 2024 actually WAS my year. hopefully not the last, but it really feels like the first, at least in a long time. I was stagnant and static and drifting without much momentum in any direction for quite a while, and then suddenly this year:

I finally moved into a solo apartment and am no longer living in a house with an ever-shifting pool of like 5 roommates. having my own quiet comfy space to cook and relax and be nocturnal without bothering anyone has been HUGE for my mental health

I worked very hard to recoup the money I lost from that move and got myself in a fairly stable and comfortable position again, work-wise

I finally started HRT in June, after about 5 years of waiting/struggling to find a doctor/fear/general motivation issues. which absolutely kicks ass and is probably the highlight of the whole year if I had to pick just one

I also finally got diagnosed with ADHD and (with a little trial and error) got medicated for it, which is another thing I've been trying to sort out for like 6 years. hey did you know executive dysfunction and problems with memory/task management/motivation make it really hard to go through the process of getting treated for the cause of those symptoms? wild huh

I rekindled a much closer relationship with a couple of my younger siblings, especially the elder of my two sisters, and we have really nice chats fairly regularly now (crazy considering we did nothing but fight constantly for like 20 years lol)

I came out fully to my family, for better or worse, and MOST of them have been surprisingly chill and supportive about it

I worked on a little game project with a friend for a couple months! it didn't end up working out but I learned a lot from the experience

I started doing WAY more personal art and kinda rediscovered my passion for it, and as a result I've progressed a lot stylistically and technically within the past few months

I beat Pseudoregalia 94 times since the first time I tried it in February. not really an achievement on the same level as all this other stuff but I'm still proud of it

like idk! there were a lot of rough patches this year and I was honestly pretty burnt out for the first half of it, but 2024 still feels like the year where I bundled up all my frustration about going nowhere with my life and achieving none of my goals and turned it into fuel to just blaze through a bunch of stuff in the back half. I wish I'd done a lot of it sooner, but life has been reminding me a lot lately that it really IS better late than never, so I'm trying to keep that perspective in mind and not let the idea of a ticking clock intimidate me like it used to. I am trying to be optimistic that 2025 will allow me to continue this momentum. we'll see I guess!

idk if I really have any resolutions per se? I guess I'd really like to make music more often in 2025, even if it's just small things I do in one or two sittings occasionally instead of full songs. I started writing a song this year, with lyrics and everything, and then didn't finish putting it together, so at the very least I'd like to make THAT happen soon. I think finding a way to get myself back into animation casually would be neat too - I have a lot of mental hangups and personal roadblocks holding me back, largely from my awful college experience, but I think if I can just find some tools that are comfortable for me then I'll be able to conquer those and hopefully start enjoying it again on my own terms. there's other stuff I'd like to pick up this year as well but honestly I'm keeping my expectations small for now and we'll just see what happens! let's do it, wahoo