#just out of curiosity i was looking through memes i had made and this one is fucking DESTROYING MEEE FJDHDBFB

[lemondoddle]

Found an old post that uploaded even older mspaint images I made as a kid and this one is making laugh so fucking hard holy shit

[gfmima]

c. ルーロック | blue lock + f!reader t. solving the big question of “what are we?”

reo was dumbfounded. “uh… what do you mean? you’re my girlfriend.”

he shifted his weight against the doorframe of his bedroom, nimble fingers run through his disheveled locks. the gesture mirrors his current state of mind, a habit of his whenever he needed to make sense of a situation he couldn’t understand.

“woah, hold up, i’m your girlfriend?!” he can hear the heavy tinge of disbelief in your voice, the slight tremor in your tone had assured him that you weren’t playing an unfunny prank on him or toying with his emotions.

is he dreaming? what the hell is happening?

his confusion reaches ten-fold. the expression worn spoke a thousand words, the intensity of his gaze was familiar, it mimicked the same face he made whenever he had to cram through his taxation homework. if you took a snapshot of him in this moment, you could edit it to be a reaction meme his friends can laugh over.

“are you sure you’re not my girlfriend?” you nod at him then say, “i think i’d know if i had a boyfriend or not.”

how can you say such a thing when he’d been by your side for months on end? he was rendered speechless. he walked you to class, spent the night at your dorm and vice-versa, and shared countless meals with you. he even introduced you to his parents, a gesture that held weight since it’d take a miracle to sneak himself into their busy schedules.

“are you sure you’re sure ‘cuz this makes no sense? what do you mean you’re not my girlfriend?” he shoots an inquisitive look, brow raised in curiosity.

“for one, you never asked me to be your girlfriend, reo? you didn’t even confess that you felt this way about me…”

wait, what?

he inwardly retraces his steps in search for any memory of a confession. seconds pass then a minute and his face turned red with embarrassment and frustration.

he drew a blank.

“oh...” wearing a sheepish grin, he scratched the nape of his neck. “would you like to be my girlfriend then?”

when people thought of you and nagi, the status of ‘friends’ would be the last to come to mind. any person with working vision can see the dynamic of your relationship went beyond the borders of platonic, there was a connection that ran deeper. his concern for you and your well-being surpass what was expected out of him as your friend.

the term itself proves to be inadequate, to them at least.

it failed to capture the extent of your feelings for each other, the unspoken words exchanged, the stolen glances, and the unyielding longing for one another.

after all, just friends don’t send “good morning” and “good night” texts on a daily basis; just friends don’t gingerly kiss each other on the cheek as a greeting; just friends don’t experience a twinge of disappointment and bitterness when one of them goes on a date; just friends don’t embrace one another a little longer than necessary; and just friends don’t feel their hearts skip a beat at the sight of the other’s smile and and the sound of the other’s laughter.

most of all, just friends don’t cuddle in the way you two did. and that fact lingers in the air between you. lightly nudging him, you hope to rouse a answer from him. instead he gives you an annoyed groan, and an even louder one escapes after he heard your question.

“tired, mostly sleepy.”

“i’m being serious! what are we?” tone laced with a touch of playfulness. a stream of consciousness flickered in his eyes, momentarily breaking through his fatigue. a coy grin tugs at the corner of his lips, as the grogginess melts away, and replaces his initial annoyance.

nagi draws your body close to his chest then wraps his arm around your torso, enveloping you in a warm hold. his voice, softened by his affection for you, murmurs near your ear, “we’re… whatever you want us to be.” he tucks his chin over your shoulder then looks up and meets your gaze. “happy?”

[ataraxiaspainting]

Chrollo Lucilfer Yandere Analysis.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, not SFW (both non-con and dub-con), the reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns respectfully, forced tattooing, Chrollo having a god complex but that's nothing new lol, Stockholm Syndrome, stalking, parallels to religion (mainly Judeo-Christianity), implied body transformation (using Chrollo’s book), masturbation, manipulation, and violence/gore.

Word Count: 13k.

credits to @ddarker-dreams for the yandere MBTI and like everything she writes for this creepy greaseball (check her out if you haven’t already!!) <33333

another thanks to @depravitycentral for the inspiration! check them out too!!!! their general profile and nsfw profile for mr. chrollo specifically BUT everything they write is pretty good! <33333

one last thanks to @phasmophobia-territory for the ultimate yandere types list and @blughxreader for the yandere personality meme. both have inspired the unique qualities part of this analysis, so please be sure to check them out! <333

also, for quotes i tried to do something like genshin impact/honkai: star rail voicelines so i apologize if they aren’t good (ﾒ﹏ﾒ)

*~*~*~*

I look forward to living life with you from here on out. However, just know that there will be many different roads we will walk together on. Their lengths will depend on you, for better or for worse. As time goes on, however, I know that they will all end eventually.

→ Introduction.

The very definition of an empty shell, Chrollo has had his humanity stripped of him from a very young age. The only people who have ever made him feel something are all members of the Troupe or are buried underground, burning in hell or soaring above the clouds as angels, either one a much better existence than the life they all spent in Meteor City. So, when he sees you, someone who has been able to make him feel something without interacting with him at all, without the use of Nen, without even brushing your shoulder against him while running to your train in a hurry, he does not know what to do.

He feels like he is back to being a small child, roaming the streets and looking through dumpsters for anything of value trying to ignore the pain of the cuts and infections all over his body. You bring up a feeling he has not felt in years; fear. Despite this situation being far, far different from those times, his brain thinks otherwise. It sends him a fight or flight response every time he sees you, as much as he hides it, much like he hides himself among the crowds and crowds of people as he follows you home. You have resurrected a beast thought to be long dead, something innate, animal, almost carnal, without even lifting a finger.

Is this who he is, he wonders? He finally feels something, for once, a sense of belonging and identity and… humanity.

It fills him with a sense of euphoria, while you view it with dread every time his Zetsu slips for just a moment. You always look over your shoulder during those times and start walking faster, but definitely not enough to deter him, and it will never be enough.

→ Darling Character Analysis.

Creative.

Chrollo has a deep curiosity about the world and appreciates a darling who shares this thirst for knowledge and intellectual growth. The form of expression doesn't matter to him, whether it's through writing, music, or eloquent speech. What truly matters to Chrollo is that his darling can communicate uniquely and authentically.

In a concerning manner, Chrollo imitates his darling’s behaviors to an extreme degree, devouring everything they do with an insatiable appetite. It doesn't matter how his darling presents their interests to him, whether it's straightforward or not. For instance, if his darling mentions their love for playing the violin after spending days alone with only Chrollo for company, the next day a brand new violin will mysteriously appear on the table beside their side of the bed. Chrollo will secretly learn to play the violin himself, the one he purchased as well as the one he gifted to his darling, practicing when they are not paying attention or are fast asleep.

As a result, his darling may find themselves obligated to reciprocate this behavior by learning Chrollo's favorite musical pieces.

He will experience immense joy, perhaps so much that he will hold them down on the bed and shower their face with kisses while they squirm and kick. Even when they eventually stop, he will continue, disregarding their pleas for him to stop.

As always, his strength is overpowering, leaving you with no action to do other than to say no.

At least there is some form of care after it is all over and done with, although it always somehow involves blending with whatever activity preceded it. For instance, if it was playing the violin, he would play you with both your favorite pieces on the gramophone he put near the bathtub while giving you a massage and preparing a relaxing bath for both of you.

It is painful, more so than the usual ache between your legs, because he pays attention to your desires and exploits them, even when he appears to be gentle. The pain lingers, no matter how hard you try to disconnect from everything happening around you.

He gives you everything you want, and it hurts because you always know why.

Bold.

A darling who never hides their intentions and just goes for it would spark some sort of admiration in Chrollo, especially if they use their boldness on him as a manipulation tactic.

He finds it entertaining most of all, but also there is a small part of him that is grateful for it because it makes his darling seem more human to him and not just something to own.

Boldness is quite a human trait, one that he so adores, especially with those he holds close like fellow members of the Troupe. It is also quite a trait that can easily be manipulated.

If you attempt to flirt to lower his guard, he will flirt back twice as hard. 

When everything is over and done with, he will admit he knows exactly what you are doing as he kisses you again, you not kissing him back this time, as good as your acting was, much to your horror.

Resourceful.

Chrollo sees himself above the rest of man, a God in his way, so a darling who is quite similar to him he would adore.

That is not to say he could not fall for someone the complete opposite of him, someone who is impulsive and wears their heart on their sleeve and everything else he does not and cannot do, but the probability is low compared to a darling that plans everything and keeps their cards close, much as he does.

That makes escape attempts though, quite common, considering how resourceful his darling can be, like using a file to saw the metal in one of his safes or the iron on their leg keeping them in his penthouse. But he loves it, it is one of his favorite things about them.

It is endless entertainment to him, a sort of fight against himself, albeit he is much, much stronger when it comes to wits most likely. You can think on your feet as much as you want, but so will he.

He will mirror their actions until the end.

Independent.

Much like his beloved's cleverness, he derives amusement from their self-reliance. He takes pleasure in dismantling their barriers bit by bit until they have no choice but to rely on him completely.

Indeed, Chrollo views his beloved as simultaneously superior and inferior to him.

There is no equality between them, only a shifting power dynamic that his beloved will soon discover. They will never be certain if his actions, like retrieving their favorite snack from the top shelf of the pantry, are expressions of love or gestures of mockery.

At times, it may be both. At times, it may be neither.

His thoughts remain inscrutable, and he revels in it.

Cunning.

Chrollo loves it when your eyebrows furrow, when you’re deep in focus, especially when you are trying to come up with an escape plan and not noticing him right behind you, because of that expression on your face.

It’s unholy, the way he worships you with sacrifices both living and not. He wants to ruin you, yet keep you as you are. So, after a long time of pondering, he concludes. He will remake your shape, not enough to completely alter it, but just enough for your walls to tumble down and let him in. That is why while he will let you try and try again to escape, he will still attempt to get into your head. He is like a poison, a parasite, imprisoning you in your fears, insecurities, and plans that are doomed to fail sooner or later. It is what he wants to be, but he also wants to be more. 

More and more he will be, and more and more he will take from you. It is only natural to want more than what is given, correct? 

It is how Chrollo and the other Troupe members survived so long in Meteor City. They take and take, not caring who they hurt because it is human instinct to want and seize. He will argue as such whenever you try to guilt him because you will soon know that he holds no shame in whatever he does. He is selfish, and he wants to stay that way. He wants you to do the same, so he loves it when you fight him or try to run away because he knows it is only nature. Nature will run its course regardless of who wants it to not. Nature does not care, so why should he? Why should you?

But he also wants you to not be as selfish as him, despite him knowing that it most likely will not be unless you are broken down enough. But that is fine, Chrollo tells himself because that time will eventually arise.

Mature.

Maturity is an elusive quality that characterizes Chrollo, yet eludes him as well. It ebbs and flows like a breeze, carrying seeds to unknown destinations, beyond the perception of onlookers. Unfortunately, you, the observer, are an unwilling participant in the multitude of games he plays and the various disguises he dons. Occasionally, Chrollo can act impulsively, adopting yet another facade acquired from others in the interludes of his life. However, there are moments when he patiently waits for the opportune time to strike, akin to a cunning serpent. But this outcome relies on your level of vigilance or innocence. Perhaps, one day, you'll find it best to surrender to his will. Chrollo eagerly anticipates that day.

Hardworking.

Chrollo feels a mix of jealousy and a desire for control when he sees someone truly dedicated to their pursuits. He wants to replicate their passion and adopt a similar persona. At the same time, he is intrigued by their determination and ambition, as he wants to understand every aspect of their character. This admiration creates a thrilling challenge for him, as he seeks to imitate their drive while also appreciating it. He wants to both admire and exploit this trait to engage in a game of cat and mouse until they submit. Perhaps it would be good to do just that, to prevent yourself from getting hurt again.

Observant.

Chrollo finds great pleasure in the thrill of the hunt, especially when his keen-eyed darling begins to notice subtle indications of being watched. These signs, carefully planted by Chrollo himself, make his darling increasingly cautious. For Chrollo, taking risks brings great rewards. Although these signs are intentional, they still hold, don't they? A lingering footstep behind them. A faint smile on a stranger's face, an unfamiliar figure lurking in an alley near his companion's residence. These signals confirm that they are being stalked, and Chrollo is entertained by the fact that their sharp instincts assure them that this is no mere coincidence or misunderstanding.

Logical.

Chrollo's beloved should possess some semblance of logic, even if it deviates from conventional understanding. The key lies in their thought process, rather than adherence to reason. This cognitive approach, be it driven by emotions or rationality, captivates Chrollo. They meticulously evaluate facts, evidence, and outcomes, exercising caution in moments of perceived advantage, as well as during bouts of insecurity and danger, where they must think quickly on their feet. This mental calculus can either serve them well or inadvertently lead to their downfall. They carefully weigh the pros and cons, thus fueling Chrollo's insatiable desire for the fun of the chase, which hinges upon ultimately catching his beloved in the act.

A Leader.

If you hold a position of leadership, whether at work or among friends, this situation will be even more perplexing and distressing for you. In an instant, you were no longer in charge, forcibly removed from your familiar surroundings and confined. Your authority, influence, and status, which held great significance, have been stripped away. You may experience a profound sense of helplessness and powerlessness as if all your hard work has been unjustly taken from you. Chrollo, as your captor, will seek to exert even more control over you if you possess the characteristic of leadership. He finds it ironic that you are now compelled to follow him, forever robbed of the opportunity to lead while you remain in captivity.

Confident Outside, Insecure Inside.

Chrollo takes great pleasure in this particular attribute, as a mere few words, be they soothing or otherwise, have the power to manipulate you effortlessly.

You find yourself compelled to dance and sing, controlled by invisible strings or some intangible force, as there seems to be no other recourse in this predicament. After enduring prolonged isolation, you will unquestioningly revere Chrollo's words, no matter how distorted they may be, treating them as a testament to be praised. And Chrollo eagerly anticipates the arrival of that day.

It instills fear in you, as both of you are aware that such a day will inevitably arrive.

With a few choice words, Chrollo can elicit tears or smiles from you, a feat that few others have managed to accomplish.

You despise it, while Chrollo utterly loves it. Intelligent.

Intelligence encompasses a wide range of abilities, making it possible for Chrollo to be drawn to various types. However, what truly captivates him is a darling who possesses either linguistic or interpersonal intelligence, or even better, both. He desires someone who can effortlessly decipher people's intentions, using words that ignite a fire within him, even if those words are aimed at him or others.

The type or types of intelligence his darling possesses greatly influences their relationship. How he presents himself in public, whether as a kind gentleman or someone who keeps his distance, depends on their emotional intelligence and intuition. Additionally, Chrollo finds it incredibly appealing when his darling shares a specific interest that is completely new to him. This not only allows him to learn something new but also adds another mask to his ever-expanding collection.

Someone who is emotionally intelligent, like his beloved, would pose a challenge for him to manipulate. They possess the ability to understand him better than most, making it all the more satisfying for Chrollo when they succumb to his desires. After all, as Chrollo often says, the greater the risk, the greater the reward.

→ Yandere MBTI: CAMS. (Cruel, Aware, Manipulative, Strict)

Chrollo possesses great skill in dismantling individuals but lacks the necessary expertise to reconstruct them according to his vision. Unfortunately, you have become an unwilling participant in his experiments. Share with him your deepest anguish and vulnerabilities. Chrollo also portrays himself as a universal remedy, claiming that he holds the power to alleviate all your suffering and resolve your troubles, provided you heed his advice.

However, he waits until he has captured you, and your defenses have crumbled. In that moment of vulnerability, when you are cut off from the world, consumed by sorrow, unable to eat or speak, he reveals himself as a deity. He extends his hand to you, leading you along a path he meticulously constructed. This path is filled with suffering, a never-ending cycle of waiting for both of you. But at the end of this dark tunnel lies Chrollo's ultimate desire: your affection.

What is your ultimate pain, what is your ultimate wish? I can provide anything and everything for you, beloved if you do not stray away from the light.

If you happen to encounter him in public before he abducts you, it is because he willingly allows you to do so, aiming to create a favorable impression that will prevent you from suspecting his true intentions. However, if you do find yourself growing suspicious, it is not without justification. Nevertheless, he will persist in attempting to dispel your doubts by showering you with more gifts and displaying gentlemanly behavior such as pulling out your chair and kissing your hand or inner wrist. Yet, everything appears excessively flawless, to the extent of inducing nausea. Everything is so… flawless all of the time, but only when you are around him and him alone. Ironically, despite Chrollo's desire to dissuade your wariness towards him, his tender and kind gestures only evoke fear.

Chrollo effortlessly switches between portraying himself as a divine figure and a malevolent force, adapting to the circumstances at hand. On one hand, he displays an uncanny perfection, never making a mistake and seemingly possessing an understanding of your thoughts and emotions even before you do. On the other hand, he reveals his true nature as pure evil by casually initiating a bet to see who can consume the most alcohol, leaving you as an unwilling participant in this game of his. As soon as you become intoxicated, he unveils himself as the embodiment of wickedness, groaning as your clothes rip off and you cry his mouth is on yours and he keeps murmuring things into your ear that are so much more terrifying than sweet and-

Panaceas are eternal, refusing to fade away, regardless of your preferences. And so is this situation with me, my dearest.

Chrollo often repeats the phrase that he would sacrifice his life for you. However, there is doubt as to whether he truly means it. His actions, whether they be subtle or overt, inflict daily harm upon you, both mentally and physically. He disguises his hurtful behavior as casual conversation, a serious one, and everything in between. Chrollo's self-centered nature raises the question of why he would make such a claim.

You remain unaware of his true intentions, as Chrollo holds the knowledge of what is genuine and what is fabricated close to his chest. He perpetuates this ambiguity, ensuring that you will never uncover the truth. Once again, Chrollo finds himself in a position of guilt, but the specific charges remain unknown. As an impartial judge, you can't discern between deceit and honesty when you have never been taught the difference. Chrollo, determined to maintain this state of uncertainty, ensures that the truth remains elusive, no matter what lengths he has to go to to make sure it stays that way.

Chrollo possesses the ability to assume various roles. He can portray himself as a reliable partner rather than a deceitful captor, a compassionate individual rather than a mass murderer, a savior rather than someone in need of rescue... The possibilities are endless. This charade is not merely a game to him, but a necessity to maintain his façade. Even if he desired to, he could never remove these disguises, as he is oblivious to his true identity, because who is he without his lies? Nothing? It is a sorrowful predicament for both me and him, you will think someday, one that may prompt you to ponder whether it is Stockholm Syndrome or your inherent empathy for others.

At some point, you will allow him to take what he desires, whether it be when he reaches a breaking point and loses control, or when you become desperate for any form of human interaction.

Whenever you are in need, call out my name. I will be there to provide whatever cure you desire for the ailment at hand.

→ Unique Qualities.

Yandere Type: 

Possessive.

Chrollo in one word would be selfish, and he himself would not deny that it suits him quite well.

Whatever he touches turns to gold in the most metaphorical sense. Whenever he sees something he wants, he will take it. Everything Chrollo takes either has rhyme and reason to it or none at all. He turns them into gold as a sign of who owns them. Even if you have fallen or will eventually fall prey to this touch. The golden touch immobilizes you so you never ever leave him. 

Like King Midas, he is selfish, and he takes pride in it. He is never humble in anything he does. That much is certain. He holds you in his arms at night like he knows your weight in gold, that he could never lose you as he lost himself all those years ago. His kisses are gentle when he wants them to be, or they can be as aggressive as he wants them to be. You’ll come to learn that it does not matter what you want, what matters is what Chrollo wants. Does not having a say in your hell hurt? Or does not having a choice help you justify to yourself that you must escape this?

Monitoring. (Watches From Afar / Direct Contact)

Really, it is Shalnark that does most of the work here, but it is still worth mentioning, especially since what Chrollo cannot get through traditional stalking alone, he asks a very teasing Shalnark to get for him. Though, if Shalnark fails, Feitan is put to the task, much to Feitan’s quite less than subtle annoyance, not that he would ever voice it. Through this trio, the work is separated into three strategies.

Chrollo’s way of finding information is as classic as it comes. Either he is observing you go about your usual day, to that coffee shop you visit before going to work, to the library you frequent on the weekends, to a park you like walking in to see the birds and to get a change of scenery while you read, or he is inside your home, looking through drawers, sampling some leftovers even from your fridge, and making a literal list of things to buy you either later or in the present moment and things to take with him when he inevitably steals you away. Shalnark’s way comes through the internet, through placing cameras in your home and showing Chrollo the footage day in and day out, and perhaps even making an online friend of you if you are that social with other people. To him, it’s all child’s play, especially with finding family members and friends of yours for later, to perhaps ask them questions under the guise of a fellow friend of yours even. But the information that neither Shalnark nor Chrollo can get from stalking alone relies on Feitan, which is where all the finding people you know and love trickle down and puddle at the bottom of this sort of vial of differing plans. This is a last resort, sort of, because there are better things that Feitan can be doing, really, but he is nothing less than loyal to Chrollo and the other Spiders, so he’ll find people who may know the answers his boss was looking for.

He does not blame Chrollo, because if the information was something even Shalnark could not find, it is something so secretive that it could metaphorically be so beneath the waves that it is on the bottom of the ocean floor.

Feitan takes on the role of the more experienced diver because he wants to make Chrollo happy.

Thankfully for most of those you know, only a maximum of perhaps five people are flicked off before you are brought to whatever penthouse Chrollo has bought for the next month or so. The rest can continue with their lives as it was, not that Feitan cares or Shalnark cares or Chrollo cares, except for poor, poor you.

Removing Nuisances. (Murder Likelihood: 8/10)

Similarly to gathering information about you, dealing with rivals follows a similar sort of hierarchy. Chrollo follows them, albeit with far less care and perhaps even stealing a few things along the way, if the rivals are rich enough, though that is quite rare to happen. Instead, he would try to threaten them through anonymous emails or letters, perhaps even with a photo of them sleeping thrown into the mix. But if that does not work, Shalnark is up next, digging up past searches and buyings that the rival perhaps regrets or wants to remain hidden. It could be anything, really, and soon this information will start to spread like a flame until the rival’s reputation is utterly ruined. If the rival is still stubborn about wanting to be romantically involved with you, Feitan is last, burying a corpse underground that looks far from the human it once was by the end of it all, and Feitan, unsurprisingly, likes this sort of business rather than simply lying in wait for a friend of yours to unfortunately cross his path.

Perhaps even Chrollo will join Feitan in this session or sessions. It sometimes happens, when Chrollo is too pent up or feeling especially angry, although he hides it well with a smile that is a bit too wide, at this rival in particular. By the end of it, when both he and Feitan look like they took a bath in blood with their clothes on, Chrollo laughs, and Feitan snickers. He feels good, both of them do. Maybe this is why Chrollo is so taken with you, Feitan wonders. The power and control that comes with you… it’s utterly addicting, isn’t it?

Adam and Eve. (Absolute Isolation) (Kidnapping Likelihood: 10/10)

Before he takes you away, Chrollo makes sure that whatever he cannot replace he takes with him. This includes memorabilia, photos, family heirlooms if you have any, and even annotated novels you have on your bookshelf with notes sticking out of them like sore thumbs. He manages to take it all away easily, just like he does with you. Chrollo, despite how selfish he is, still wants in some capacity to make you happy. In your “adapting stage”, you may be able to hide away from him in the bathroom and lock the door, but at least you will have the choice to continue whatever hobbies you had before that Chrollo allows you to do while you are self-isolating. 

He sees this small reason for you not to hate him entirely as a win. A triumph followed by many others to come.

Collector’s Habit. (Comfortable Imprisonment / Chains + Cages)

Chrollo’s penthouse is lined with things both of significance to him and you. Almost all of it is stuff that he has stolen, however, not that he cares. The paintings lined up in the dining room, the many pretty dresses put in your closet and you are forced to wear, the jewelry that he clasps onto your neck and fingers and wrists like chains, all of them are stolen in some capacity or another. 

The things that he had stolen from your home all look like they belong there, almost. Your favorite pink beret placed next to a porcelain plate of macaroons and fruit a note telling you to get ready for a date later in the evening, an old photo of you placed in a frame that ought to be at least three hours worth of your salary, your most cherished books all lined up next to Chrollo’s own, all the covers and sizes somewhat similar to one another that it almost drives you mad. It brings Chrollo comfort, while it brings you ire. 

Possibly, you’ll read one of his Dostoevsky pieces when you think he is gone, or you’ll try on one of his many fur coats when it gets too chilly or when you are curious. But curiosity always finds a way to kill the cat, because when you think you are not going to be caught, Chrollo finds a way to sneak up behind you and simply observe, smirking, even when you see him.

Attention-Seeking.

Chrollo has always been one to utterly enjoy being in the limelight. He loves acting parts, playing parts as classy as a Prince Charming to a part as scheming as a villain that has locked the princess in a tower. You get both, the unlucky person you are. He gives you roses and proclaims poems and confessions of absolute love and undying loyalty, but you then remember that he is the one that trapped you here, to begin with.

This life that was forced upon you is a fairytale very close to cracking and falling apart, but never does.

You are forced to be a helpless maiden waiting for a knight in shining armor to rescue her, but unfortunately for you, that knight is also the very evildoer in this story. So, you try to be your own knight, your own prince, but it will never be as close or as real as an actual hero. So, your attempts fail, regardless of how long they were in the making. You are not strong enough, not fast enough, and you simply cannot write your own ending in this whimsical tale if Chrollo is always aware of them.

But you come up with a plan that takes weeks upon weeks and months upon months for it to bear fruit. 

You'll comply with his desires and make your getaway when he least anticipates it. Thus, you're compelled to dance with Chrollo, flawlessly and without objection, to safeguard your plan. However, with each movement, it feels as though nails are penetrating your foot, for you're uncertain if Chrollo is aware of your actions, and it fills you with immense fear.

But it is too late to back out of this, so you keep on doing this waltz.

Eliminating Rivals. 

The basement, as always, is filled with dust and dirt with insects both alive and dead scattered on the floor next to Feitan’s equipment. Chrollo does not mind it, though, despite him still wearing the suit he wore when he was following you to the train station, the route you usually took to get back from your best friend’s house to your place. He does not like her, but he decides to let her still do whatever with her life as she pleases, unlike the person currently zip-tied to one of the rusty chairs with broken legs. As long as she does not try to seek to be more than friends with you, she’ll be safe from harm. Even though Chrollo’s gut is telling him that she will try, that she will kiss you, say “I love you” to you and maybe go on top of you in bed and-

He tries not to think about it, he is already behind schedule enough as it is, though he could just make Feitan do the work by himself. He tries not to think about it because he has to start preparing his penthouse for your arrival soon to come. He has already purchased some new comforter sets for the bedroom, along with some of the skincare products he knows you use in the bathroom. He’s busy, too busy to involve himself with something other than torturing this man and getting back on track. He focuses on the scene ahead, trying not to think about that friend of yours or the barista who always looks at you for a tad bit too long. If he let his emotions and not logic control him, he would have murdered half this town already and left love notes on their headstones.

He looks at the man, covered in his own blood, his own vomit, his own feces from being confined there for days before Chrollo arrived, deathly thin from starvation and dehydration. From what Feitan told him, Feitan gouged out one eye one day and the other eye the next day, leaving him blind and weeping, his vocal cords far-reaching past their limit, crying out gibberish like some sort of animal, something not too conscious enough of its surroundings to be anything considered even near human.

“Fei, do you hear that?”

“...I do.”

Sexual Drive: 5/10.

Chrollo knows most of what there is to know about sex, but not for his own pleasure. He uses this knowledge mainly in intelligence gathering, when Shalnark, Feitan, and even Pakunoda are not able to get the information the Troupe needs for their next heist. He holds sex with little to no emotional value because of this, since his love for the other Troupe members is high above what little admiration he could possibly hold for those people that he subtly interrogates while fucking them as gently or as hard as they want him to, whispering in their ear when they are feeling their most euphoric, asking them what dons are trading with each other and with what, asking them how the president of this company makes so much when the value of their imports and exports don’t exactly match up, asking them how exactly many secret passageways this mansion has… it’s endless, really, how much information he can get out of them. The human body is so vulnerable, especially when pain mixes with pleasure or pleasure mixes with pain or pain is alone or please is alone. Chrollo is grateful for it.

But when it comes to sex with you, Chrollo then finally sees the emotional side of this spectrum. Your bodies bond and become one, melting into one another as you both moan out each other’s name, lovingly yours and lovingly his.

This development does not surprise him because he does want an emotional bond with you in some sense of the word, he wants you to worship him just as much as he does with you.

Let us go, shall we? Before you could answer, his hand grabs your wrist, his grip making it impossible for someone like you to break away. We… have plenty to talk about and do, correct?

Violence Towards Darling: 3/10.

Don’t take this as a sign that he will not use violence on you at all. Believing that Chrollo's violent tendencies towards you are limited to slapping or ignoring you is a naive assumption. You soon realize that attempting to strike him is futile due to his lightning-fast reflexes. Fighting back against Chrollo will not resolve anything. Instead, you come to understand that he wants you to be like a pet, constantly performing tricks and obediently following his commands.

You wonder if he would also display you like a trophy. Uncertain, you contemplate whether or not you want to find out. Eventually, a few nights later, you dream of a life without Chrollo's constant control, where he does not touch you possessively and parade you around expensive events. You recognize that you are nothing more than his lapdog, his pet, his trophy.

However, Chrollo claims to see something more in you. Is he being genuine in his belief? Do you really desire to uncover the truth?

Violence Towards Others: 8/10.

In his search for you, he maintains his usual calm demeanor, though his eyes reveal his inner turmoil. Anger fills his vision, overshadowing any light. Surely, you couldn't have gone too far. He frantically scans the penthouse until he finds you on the balcony... in the company of someone else.

“Feeling intrusive, are we?”

He pays no mind to the identity of this person, although it's likely they are a former lover or at the very least, a love interest. Your declarations of love and reciprocated kisses leave no room for doubt. How they managed to reach this height is irrelevant to him.

Without uttering a single word, he opens his book, channeling an unseen force from his hands to your ill-fated companion, causing them to plummet to the ground amidst screams from both of you.

After a few moments of tears, mumbled apologies, and the utterance of their name, he informs you that a serious discussion will take place later. With that, you silently follow him back inside. He will contact Shizuku to handle the cleanup of the body in due time.

Vanilla / Kinky

Favorite Kinks:

Begging.

Both inside and outside the bedroom, Chrollo likes having you beg, from you begging him to let you orgasm to you begging him to get you that new book in that series you were quite interested in before you got stolen away. It’s a power dynamic no doubt, it makes him feel wanted by you, needed by you, loved by you. That’s all he wants, really, your love and devotion and for you to promise to be his sun and moon and stars, for you to say he is bigger and more important to me than the sky, for you to hold him, for him to hold you.

No matter how much time passes, how many different places you both stay in and leave, how many countries you visit for leisure or for Chrollo's next big scheme, he refuses to break this unhealthy pattern, even for your sake. He enjoys this routine, so why would he alter it? He will occasionally tease you for being rather selfish, even as you both grow older and wiser and your hairs both white and your skin wrinkly. He will even say it to you when your corpse is resting peacefully in its coffin, as he sheds tears for the first time in many years.

Every time please, Chrollo, please, I… comes out of your mouth, it sounds like to him, the most beautiful martial vow. 

He locks each and every one into the deepest crevices of his heart like unwilling prisoners, despite how small and cold and dead his said heart is, at least to you. They don’t want to stay, but they have to because I want them there in remembrance. Just like you. Poetic, is it not?

Voyeurism. 

The screen in front of him showed you coming out of the shower, your body dripping with soapy water with a towel on your body that barely covered anything and a smaller towel covering your hair that was put up in a clip. Shalnark placing cameras all around your place made things much easier to know things about you that he could not find out through traditional stalking alone. He is grateful for him.

Slowly, as he smiled, one of his hands went into his pants, then his boxers as he caressed the half-hard thing beneath them both. He kept groaning as it got harder and harder, his breathing getting faster and faster. He is not sure how much time had gone by, but he knows that there was now liquid, slow and warm, running down his legs and is all over his hand, and as always, you were none the wiser.

Oral. (Receiving)

Your knees are on the floor, having been there so long it hurts. Your neck is curved backward and your mouth is in pain from his large manhood in there like an unwanted intruder, as you desperately gag and choke and cry. The only reason you have not successfully gotten away is because one of his hands is grabbing the back of your head and pulling you every time you pull, hopelessly still trying to fight.

Your hands are tied behind your back with silk to not damage the skin of your wrists, while you desperately try to claw your way out of them.

You’re in the clothing that he wants you to wear, as usual, though calling it clothing would be an overstatement as it hardly covers anything. A black thong with a short skirt, along with a low-cut bralette. As always, you have no say in the matter, and even though you are unable to utter a word, he showers you with affectionate words, as fake as they seem.

Favorite Parts:

Your Thighs.

It is more of a comfort thing than anything else, really. The way that it is one of the softest parts of you, one of the meatiest parts of you, and, most of all, the easiest parts of you to grab and hold and kiss and press hickeys into and fuck.

It’s only natural for a thief to want to keep their prized possessions close to them, is it not, my darling? 

While Chrollo still places you all of his mementos and diamonds and paintings among the many, many other things he has hidden away in his current penthouse, seeing you as better than all of those things combined, he still sees you, in some ways, as something to be sanctioned, whether it be for your own safety or just his pure, unadulterated selfishness, or perhaps both.

So, he holds onto your thighs at all times pretty much, squeezing the flesh for either attention or just because he needs some security that you are still there with him, no matter how close you physically are to him.

He will occasionally rest his head on your lap, reciting his book aloud while you are obliged to listen. He never dozes off because he is too cautious for that, although he yearns for it. His desire to lie down and have you run your fingers through his hair as he gradually drifts to sleep almost surpasses all his other needs. It may sound like a fantasy for him, no pun intended.

However, it would be a nightmare for you, whether he falls asleep or not. But as always, Chrollo hardly cares. If you dare to object, your longer skirts, shorts, and one pair of sweatpants will vanish for approximately a month, only to be replaced by outrageously short clothes that barely qualify as attire.

They’re soft, just like your lips, your voice, just everything else about you, you, you. It’s the parts that most perfectly describe you, he’ll say, forcing you to tolerate all his touches because his hand is not going anywhere, just like the rest of me, sweetling.

Just stay still and let me see how plush you are just for me, alright?

If he ignores all the goosebumps and the shivers, he can assume that this is what heaven feels like. It must be, right, dearest?

Your Collarbone.

Despite everything else about him, Chrollo can be a sort of traditionalist when he wants to be. This applies quite rarely though, only really affecting the relationship he has with you, both inside and outside of the bedroom.

He likes how the bones stick out, the crevices just so perfect for him to slide the tip of his fingers across, just so perfect for him to kiss and bite, just so perfect to hang necklaces from so they are on a sort of diagonal and reflect the light, making them shine and making them highlight the hickeys that have been pressed into them, right below them, and right above them…

He forces you to wear all kinds of accessories and low-cut shirts that he can find, not caring how much money it would cost, just to see some diamond-encrusted choker on your neck. He says in the calmest voice he can muster that it is no big deal, darling, just trust me and I got this for you and you alone, now why don’t you be a sweetheart and put it on? You might think that a choker and a collar are essentially the same, as they both tightly grip the neck like a suffocating hold. However, Chrollo pays no mind to this, as owners don't concern themselves with their pets realizing they're wearing such a sign of possession.

Your Feet.

Chrollo appreciates art in his own unique way, specifically when it comes to sculpting and realism. He finds your feet to be truly exquisite, along with the rest of you. Despite your attempts to ignore it or cover them up, he has a clear fondness for your feet. Your toes are round, your heels are perfectly shaped, and your soles fit perfectly in his hands when he places heeled shoes on them. In secret, he also enjoys the scent of your feet, although he would never admit it. He would rather die than confess. 

Your feet are cute and can become sweaty and sticky, making them easy to hold onto, just like your thighs. 

Those traits really remind him after you orgasm, with you of course begging repeatedly for it a few moments before he lets you.

It's a hidden pleasure for him, even if you were to discover it, he would keep it to himself. You won't be able to get any information from him. If you do happen to find out, don't be surprised when a substantial portion of your jewelry drawer is filled with anklets.

His Fingers.

Chrollo admires his hands more than most other parts of his body. He trims his fingernails every two weeks, putting hand cream every time he steps out of the bath, never skipping this routine of his. The reason he admires his hands so much is that despite all the bloodshed and other dirty acts he does with them, they remain on the outside clean. It boosts his ego, in a way.

There are just so many uses for them, he loves flipping the pages of his favorite novels with them, he loves cutting food for both you and himself with them, he loves squeezing your thigh as either a warning or a sign of love… there are just endless possibilities, at least from his perspective.

But his new favorite thing is to fuck your clit with them, and yours alone.

Is it a privilege, then, that only yours can bring him such joy? Whether you believe it to be so or not, it holds no significance, for Chrollo finds pleasure in this, and only his satisfaction matters, given that he is the one who has taken you captive.

Please, Chrollo, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, I can’t take this anymore I-

His movements are flawlessly executed, almost unfairly so. They are deliberate yet unhurried, demanding your submission. However, he will only grant you this pleasure if you plead for it. The act of begging will consume several minutes, perhaps even a minimum of two, leaving you in a state of desperation. Meanwhile, he will revel in your discomfort, relishing the power he holds over you. This perverse satisfaction is what he adores the most.

As you wish.

Inevitably, you will find yourself succumbing to your desires, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure he provides. Despite your stubbornness, your willpower will eventually crumble under the weight of his expertise.

He derives immense pleasure from knowing that he alone possesses the ability to bring you such ecstasy. This knowledge fuels his ego, heightening his sense of self-importance.

His Words.

Chrollo has an insatiable thirst for knowledge, but he also derives great pleasure from imparting knowledge and amusingly embarrassing others. And when it comes to you, he takes it to another level.

He constantly showers you with compliments, comparing you to famous heroines like Juliet and Ophelia from classic literature. He insists that you possess the same beauty as any damsel in distress from those timeless tales. To prove his point, he even offers to acquire paintings of these fictional princesses and damsels for you to admire and compare yourself to.

Wanting a break from his constant attention, you agree to his proposal. Besides, you get the bonus of owning some exquisite artwork. What could go wrong, right?

Well, it turns out to be a colossal mistake.

Upon waking up, you find yourself surrounded by what feels like an entire museum filled with paintings of fictional damsels, duchesses, princesses, and queens. The overwhelming presence of these artworks threatens to suffocate you. And to make matters worse, Chrollo insists on meticulously going through each painting one by one, forcing you to endure this ordeal that could very well last for days.

Your legs resemble hers, your lips resemble hers, your feet resemble hers... every aspect of your physique and the muse's physique that he remarks upon, leaves you feeling incredibly exposed, more so than ever before.

The duration of this process is absolutely exasperating. It leaves you feeling as defenseless as a lamb anticipating its fate in the hands of a butcher.

His Knowledge.

Chrollo truly treasures his knowledge, viewing it as divine nectar from the heavens, if indeed it exists. This belief is so strong that he occasionally overestimates it, taking every opportunity to display it in a way that impresses you more than anything else he does, both inside and outside of the bedroom. Whether intentionally or not, he will state the obvious, like pointing out that the creature you're observing in the rose garden during your “date” is not a slug, but a snail. 

It frustrates you, but you acknowledge that it could be worse–he could forbid you from venturing outdoors altogether. 

Surely, that counts for something, doesn't it? 

…Doesn’t it?

Fantasies. (Consent / Non-Con) (Coercion / Brute Force)

If one were to make a comparison, they would compare you to a piece of art so beautiful, that it is instinct to witness, praise, and worship until their bodies all turn to mere dust, in which they will be swept away by those alive who do not want your refinement to be stained by those who have passed on. For what is a beauty without a beholder? Chrollo will gladly take up that role, as he is the only one worthy of seeing such a piece. You, leaning on the pillows, legs crossed, hair put up in a neat bun, wearing makeup that he has said he likes on you before, looking up at him like he has come to bless you with a mere glimpse of the divine power he holds, wearing the black lingerie he chose for you to wear this evening, made of lace with patterns of roses scattered about.

This is his welcome home gift, from both himself and you. He may have requested that you could partake in this, but since you are doing it without any complaint but instead loving doing the task at hand, he could consider him soon becoming one with your body for the evening to be an award from you for all the work he has done for the Troupe these past few days.

If such a prize is laid before him, ripe for the taking, why wouldn’t he? So, without so much as uttering another word, he starts to undress as you watch, a mix of genuine joy and interest laid out on your face. He hasn’t even touched you yet, and with this simple act, you are bound to him with the invisible thread of lust.

When his boxers are all the way down, he approaches, and you don’t blink, wanting to take it all in. Shall the fun start? When your lips meet, all reservations that you once had dissolve, as few as they are now.

(But don’t think Chrollo respects your boundaries completely when it comes to sex; if you deny him enough, over the course of months and months, he will break his composure and show you where you belong; underneath him.)

→ Strengths.

Realities. (Your Own, His Avow) (Patient / Impatient)

The being that is above you in this bed is unlike any human you have ever met before. His looks and personality are all artificially crafted, like some automaton made to resemble actual living things, but do not stray far from their roots, what they were made for, and what they were made of. I’m real, you think, I’m real. Chrollo is not.

He’s aware of everything you do. Every step you take. Every word you say.

He is aware. He possesses knowledge of all things, much like the god he feigns to be. His understanding of emotions is as keen as his logical reasoning, resulting in a situation of dread that pertains solely to you.

It instills fear within you because he holds the key to all knowledge, while you remain in not-so-blissful ignorance.

→ Weaknesses.

Lotus Eater. (Dreamy Idleness)

Chrollo, despite his attempts to appear superior to others, is not without his flaws. If those around him stroke his ego, he becomes overly confident. Yet, if one were to try the opposite approach, it would have the same effect as boosting his ego. He is cursed with arrogance, always believing he is superior to others, even some members of the Troupe. Perhaps you can use this knowledge to your advantage. Faking affection could lower his guard and further inflate his narcissism. It is a strategic move, preferable to engaging in a physical fight that you cannot possibly win. 

Therefore, when you believe you have the opportunity to escape when his guard seems lowered enough that he won't immediately pursue you, you run. At that moment, his facade will crack, his eyes will grow emptier, and the hollow husk chasing after you will not resemble the Chrollo you once knew.

→ Daily Life.

Welcome. (Day One)

Chrollo remains a mystery begging to be left unsolved.

He rises at his usual hour each morning, and it's a rarity to witness him actually sleeping. His breakfast consistently consists of sausage and eggs, seasoned solely with salt and pepper, as he avoids other spices. He purchases fresh bread from whichever local bakery happens to be closest for the week or a few days ahead. Occasionally, if you're fortunate, he may bring back something sweet while out and about, such as a chocolate-filled croissant or a cherry jam-filled danish. However, trust, whether in platonic or romantic relationships, is something that must be earned.

Interestingly, it appears that regardless of the circumstances, Chrollo seems to possess a certain level of trust that you won't make any foolish choices. On your initial day in this penthouse, he simply greeted you, patiently waiting until the effects of the drugs wore off, allowing you to cry on the bed until your tears ran dry. He comforted you, softly shushing you and gently caressing your cheeks with his thumb.

Yet, he never becomes too intimate.

Was that his motive? Is that why he opted to masquerade as a compassionate gentleman rather than a captor? Instead of asserting his authority, he chose to console you, demonstrating that such solace could be snatched away in an instant. You were oblivious to his true intentions. On that initial day, you wept more than any other day, the taste of mint on Chrollo's breath and the aroma of coffee still etched in your memory. He would inflict further harm, and for the sake of your sanity, you believe it is preferable for him to remain an enigma, shielding you from the repulsive monster lurking beneath his attractive facade.

What Could Be. (And What Is)

Strangely enough, there are still parts of your life after Chrollo has captured you that would still sort of count as normal enough that you could turn the other way and ignore all other cosmic horrors that are happening in the general vicinity. You could still decide what you want to eat and drink that day, what to watch, what to read, what time to wake up and what time to go to bed, what to write in your diary (that not-so-strangely has its lock missing now), listen to the morning birds or to the music that Chrollo allows you to listen to (which is most of it, shockingly)... the list really is endless, really, aside from a few things that you forget sometimes, much to future you’s horror.

But sometimes you forget on purpose, to divulge in the fantasy Chrollo has carefully crafted for both of you, either to fool him or your walls really are as broken down as he wants them to be.

He finds it nice when you ask him questions about whatever place he has rented for the two of you for the time being, the location at hand most likely being related to the Troupe’s plans to steal whatever is of value. He likes to show off, and to listen to him talk for hours requires the patience of a saint.

→ Punishments. (No Punishments / Tortuous Punishments)

Welcome Again. (Failed Departure)

The penthouse looked to be the same after you ran out the entrance door that you lockpicked. The fireplace was still lit. There was still a smell of peppermint in the air along with some scent of coffee, lattes maybe. Everything looks the same, just as it always has. It nearly scares you more, how calm and warm this place is, than the hand that has a grip on your wrist so tight that you feel like he will dislocate it in the very least.

But he does not look angry, but that smile is not good at all either.

He does not say anything as he closes the door behind him, turning the lock on the door so it will remain that way. He does not say anything as he continues to drag you, albeit a bit more tight in his grip now that you are within his grasp once again. Whatever you say goes in one ear and out the other, and you know better than to struggle and scream, because you do not want this day to result in yet another bloodbath, and it would be useless anyway, even if someone came to rescue you. That is why, like the sort of pet you were trained to be, you bite your tongue and obey. He seems to not be angry now, but who knows what awaits you once you are in the bedroom, where most talks and actions are the consequences of your supposed crimes. You can’t really breathe, but that is alright. Chrollo will help you every step of the way after all, as the dutiful owner he has come to be.

Perhaps a pet is all you will be.

He wants you to look up at him like some god, some deity that you worship with all your being. But you can’t, not yet, and Chrollo knows that. Perhaps some methods unknown to you but known to him can help, can’t it?

He hopes so for your sake, but what do you hope for, wish for? You don’t know, and maybe never will.

Venus Fly Trap. (Temptations of a Liar)

Chrollo is well aware of the diverse array of predatory flowers, each manifesting in its own unique way. Perhaps you too possess such characteristics, with your alluring fragrance and honeyed speech, deceiving him into a false sense of security before stripping it all away. However, there is one crucial detail you seem to have overlooked. What transpires when a venus fly trap ensnares a prey that surpasses its own size and devours its own kind and others, rather than the typical fly it ensnares?

Undoubtedly, they suffer. Yet it appears that this lesson has eluded you thus far, hasn't it?

You have displayed kindness, sweetness, and a willingness to comply, within certain limits. Undoubtedly, you possess some degree of skill, though not enough to deceive him, the enigmatic masked orchestrator of this theatrical production.

Therefore, it is without much remorse that he renders you motionless with delicate silk and persuasive words that possess the potential to sting, should you ever dare to push him too far.

However, deep down you are aware of the truth, just as he is aware too. If he doesn't take a firm stance, what other undesirable situations will you find yourself in? With a single hand, he flips open the book, while using the other to shush you.

“A shame,” He says, turning the pages. “A crying shame, really. The sky is so lovely tonight… Who knows when we will get this scenery again, hmm?”

You don’t know what he will do to you. 

…Does he?

→ Quotes.

Hello.

Greetings. It is truly an honor to meet you face to face like this at long last, [First]. There is no need to introduce yourself to me as I already know who you are. That, and… hmm. That, and I think you are not all there right now. Please, I recommend relaxing and listening to what I have to say. But just to make sure, try to speak to me… as expected.

Chat: Ballet.

All dancers must put themselves fully into whatever moves they do. I suppose that can be the same thing for you and me.

Chat: Athenaeum.

Libraries and archives are some of the places I enjoy going to the most. Maybe if you continue behaving, I’ll take you to one nearby.

Chat: Reimbursement. 

Quid pro quo, darling; I assume you know the best ways to compensate me for the broken locks?

When It Rains.

The rain is perfect for a day of staying inside. Though, hehe… you’ll be indoors no matter what, right? Good thing you have me as company today. …What do you mean? I leave sometimes, mainly to get you things might I add. I suggest being more grateful if you don’t want that koala plush to disappear.

After It Rains.

Sigh… the smell of morning dew and the sounds of birds chirping… simply marvelous. Let’s go dance on the balcony, but be sure not to get your new shoes wet and slip. I would hate to have to bring Machi again.

When Thunder Strikes.

Aw, are you going to cling to me so cutely whenever there is a storm? I wouldn’t mind that, I’ll even give you more blankets to hide in if you wish. …Wait, dearest, come back… sigh… of course she hid under the bed again.

When It Snows.

So cold out there, isn’t it? If you ask nicely, I’ll give you back your socks and slippers. Go on.

When the Sun Is Out.

Let’s go on a walk tonight when it’s not so hot out. The sunset’s beauty will only be second to your own.

Good Morning.

Good morning, love, I made coffee. Feel free to use one of the creamers I got you, and there is oat milk near them somewhere in the fridge… Hm? I have never really been a fan of sweet drinks, so black coffee tastes good to someone like me. 

Good Afternoon.

Sure, you can cook lunch. But allow me to cut the ingredients and heat sources. We know how you used them last time.

Good Evening.

It’s so quiet you can only hear the crickets chirping. It’s quite a romantic atmosphere, isn't it?

Good Night.

Ah ah ah. No bed for you yet. Give me a goodnight kiss first. No, you can’t sleep on the couch either. Or the floor. If you keep refusing, I’m going to ask you more questions than yesterday. …That’s better.

About Chrollo: Tattoos.

There is something comforting about them, I think. No matter what the person does to reject it, it will stay. The permanence of such an act should also be what you should be. Now, bite me again and you will sooner than later find yourself in a tattoo parlor. Am I understood?

About Chrollo: Lies.

Don’t say that, my love. I’m not lying to you, I’m just picking what parts of the truth to show and hide. There is no harm in that, I think. 

About Us: Home.

This place is much more human with you in it. Do with that as you wish.

About Us: Cull.

Life and death have a sort of agreement. A contract if you will. The more lives taken by your hands, the more your own life is put at risk. Quite poetic. Like everything else in life, there must be balance.

About Us: Matrimony.

Being bound by just a few words… The very idea is beautiful in my opinion. If you want, we can get married. It is not like anyone else is going to put that pretty ring finger of yours to good use, anyway.

About Us: Panoply.

Anything you want you shall receive. Just say the word. Unless it is already here, which is a possibility.

About You: Humanity.

The human psyche is truly fascinating, don’t you agree? All it takes is a few words or a few actions and it all comes crumbling down. Like you.

About You: Epiphany. 

Not a man, not ten men, not a hundred men can ever provide me with the same joy you give me. You’re special, you know? You make me feel… alive.

Something to Share.

“Be glad as children, as birds in the sky.” A quote from Fyodor Dostoevsky. But… birds are constantly migrating to better places, so really, are they grateful and glad for the gift of life?

Interesting Things.

I see you are doing experiments with pH again. Just be sure to not use all of the vinegar, please. And no, vinegar cannot melt a door, for the final time. 

About Nobunaga.

He thinks more with his heart than his head. But he means well for the Troupe. Or himself when he makes someone call to order takeout for him. 

About Feitan.

I learned a lot of torture methods from him. He truly is the best at what he does. As for social skills… not so much. But everyone has their ups and downs, and that is Fei’s.

About Machi.

One of the most loyal people I have ever met. Also one of the most in tune with their wants and needs. If she thinks of something to say, she’ll say it without a doubt. She is very transparent when it comes to that kind of thing.

About Hisoka.

Hisoka… he is very… out there, isn’t he? But he is valuable to me, so I give him free rein to do whatever he wishes.

About Phinks.

One of the physically strongest. Though also one of the only ones to ever get a laugh out of me. Shizuku once asked him why he did not have any eyebrows, and the way he stopped talking and stared at the ceiling caused us all to snicker. Feitan did earn a blow to the head by the end of it because Phinks does not hit women… He is much more gentlemanly than he appears.

About Shalnark.

When it comes to computers and such, Shalnark is the person to do it. He was the one to convince me to get a newer phone model and taught me how it worked. He kept chuckling as he did, and every question I had asked earned a wide smile in response but no actual answer. He says I am an… “old man at heart…?”

About Franklin.

He is not the most talkative one out there, but if ever comes to games to decide matters, he is the one for the job. Once, Uvogin betted fifty thousand Jenny if he ever beat me in chess. Franklin managed to almost win in the end, but he gave up at the last moment. He said he couldn’t bear to do that to me.

About Shizuku.

At long last, she at least remembers my name. She is quite charming in her own way… I see why Franklin took on a sort of caretaker role for her.

About Pakunoda.

Paku… Paku is one of the sweetest people I know. Whenever I didn’t feel well, she was the first one to come and help me feel better. She even fed me her rations, regardless of the tough times we were put through. I should ask her to make me soup again, I have missed the taste of it…

About Bonolenov.

When he trusts you enough, he has quite a humorous and proud side. He is very proud of his culture, and as someone who did not have one as a child, I find it very admirable.

About Uvogin.

I swear he could drink enough beer to kill a whale and still not be satisfied. The same goes for fights. Any challenge goes, whether that is an eating or video game contest.

About Kortopi.

His copying ability is quite useful, and Nobunaga wanted to give him a haircut using his sword. He declined of course, much to Nobunaga’s disappointment. …Hm? A copy of you? No, you are priceless, and nothing can ever compare, even a version of you that does everything I ask. There is a charm to your disobedience. That, and Kortopi cannot make living copies.

More About Chrollo: I.

Come. I got you some books for us to read together. But before you touch them, I must tell you that you can only read them while on my lap. Isn’t that such a great deal, dearest?

More About Chrollo: II.

“Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven…” Yes, I can see the parallels between this line and myself. Is that why you decided to show me this? …Oh, you just wanted an excuse to call me Lucifer again. Do what you wish, I suppose. But please put that book back on the shelf where it came from when you are done. You know I hate it when you mess up the categories. …Hm? Don’t do that, or I won’t get you any more mochi. …You know my threats aren’t empty, my dear.

More About Chrollo: III.

…Do you need something from me, dearest? No? …Why am I asking? So you just happen to be pressing your chest against my arm for no apparent reason? …I see. Well, if you want my attention so badly, who am I to refuse?

More About Chrollo: IV.

Yes, that note is from me. That gift is also from me. Open it, please. …You should try wearing that set next time. Your thighs will stand out better. You were the one that was asking last night, not me. Ah, you are feeling rather adventurous these past few weeks, aren’t you? …Looking for something? Is this it? You know, I’m disappointed in you, to put it frankly. I thought you were coming around. You know what happens now, don’t you?

More About Chrollo: V.

Time has certainly sped by, hasn’t it? Let me give you a word of advice. No matter what happens, always remember those who have gotten you to where you are now. As a result, your situation can prove to be much less isolating that way. …Yes, that includes me. For when you are alone, my dear, your mind always finds a way to eat you whole.

Chrollo’s Hobbies.

Leading an orchestra and executing a grand theft operation share fundamental principles. It is imperative to maintain a commanding presence, ensuring that others adhere to your lead. Collaboration becomes the pivotal factor in achieving triumph during such endeavors.

Chrollo’s Troubles.

I find it perplexing how some individuals effortlessly navigate life with a serene demeanor, rooted in their unwavering sense of self. Maybe it stems from a twinge of envy, or perhaps there's another elusive element at play. But being envious is part of being human, is it not?

Favorite Food: Black Squid Ink Carbonara.

It is briny, and salty, like the sea. Quite refreshing as well, especially paired with homemade pasta. Only the best quality is allowed. …I am not being too picky. Do you know how many children in Meteor City have grown up never eating from a fast food place, much less a local restaurant? I simply am greedy because I can now. I couldn’t before, and that is why I do so as an adult.

Favorite Food: Opulence. 

As an adult, my current ability to indulge in greed is a newfound privilege that I couldn't have experienced previously. Hence, I find it impossible to resist the temptation of adding an extra serving of truffle or caviar to my plate.

Least Favorite Food: Canned Cabbage.

One of the very few foods I refused to eat unless absolutely necessary was canned cabbage. It was slimy and always came in watery vinegar with mostly moldy parts… I was desperate, but not desperate enough to eat that. Machi, Nobunaga, and Phinks all agreed. Feitan didn’t, much to everyone’s annoyance.

Least Favorite Food: Waste.

Paku, Machi, and Feitan had a sort of pact that they forced on the rest of us to never throw away things that were still edible. According to Shalnark and Uvogin, moldy food is still edible. Phinks and I disagreed but… we got outvoted. 

Receiving a Gift: I.

Indulging in scrumptious meals truly possesses the power to alleviate all worries. So, how can I express my gratitude?

Receiving a Gift: II.

Oh? Thank you, dearest. …For your own good, you better not have put salt instead of sugar this time.

Receiving a Gift: III.

Ah... considering you seem to have a moment to spare, would you be interested in sitting down and enjoying a shared reading session? The choice of material is entirely up to you, of course.

Chrollo’s Birthday.

You are such a prize, you know? You’re in an outfit worth its weight in gold, actually, now that I think about it, diamonds. Autumn has set in, the weather gets colder, and the food gets warmer. Perfect time for spending quality time with someone, wouldn’t you say so? Please, allow me to do this with you, [First]. I have never really cared for this day if I am being honest, but… now that you are here, I feel like new opportunities are around every corner.

Birthday.

Happy birthday, [First]. Within reason, I would like to treat you to whatever your heart desires. Food, art, wine; anything, just tell me, alright? I will see to it. …Heh. I’m afraid a fall from this penthouse will not be enough to kill me. …No, I am not going to put it to the test, since I am certain about it. Please think of something else. The world is your oyster, dearest. But… remember that I can always close it before you can get to the pearl.

Feelings About You: Ethereal.

This feeling… I haven’t felt something like this since… Hmm? Am I? Quite the observation.

Feelings About You: Euphonious. 

…I miss your voice, you know. I always like it when you get caught up in a topic that interests you, no matter what it is. …But last time I took the gag off and took you out, you behaved quite terribly… Here, I’ll tell you what. I’ll take the gag off, and I’ll get you something related to your interests, and then we can talk about it. Does that sound good to you?

Feelings About You: Eternity.

We shall be together forever, bonded at the hip if we must be. I promise you. Do not worry about the details. It does not matter if you like it or not, because I will take care of whatever obstacles get in our way. Whether that obstacle is you or any… outsiders.

Feelings About You: Elision.

Do know that I do mean it when I say that I do want to make you happy. Yes, our relationship is less than ideal, but in the end, just know my feelings for you are indeed sincere. …I’m not exactly willing to take criticism, but I could try, perhaps. If you like to do so, I am willing to compromise, though.

→ Conclusion.

You never hear Chrollo in his movements, but you do in his actions when he wants you to.

He puts far more effort into the little things, the details than outright saying his feelings for you, or just telling you his threats. That mysterious gift that appeared on your bed while you were away at work, that just so happens to contain some of your favorite sweets? 

The bouquet on your kitchen table that was placed while you were asleep? The box of dozens if not at least a hundred pictures of you by your mailbox when you tried to file a police report? 

Chrollo is patient to a fault. You will never know what is happening, at its fullest, until it is far too late.

You can put as much blame on yourself as you want, and hate yourself as much as you want, for not realizing how dangerous this entire situation is. But this position under Chrollo’s thumb is so much more horrifying than you could ever imagine, so do not blame yourself for not noticing everything at once.

That is not to say Chrollo won’t try to degrade you into thinking this is all your fault.

Your walls will be as good as broken and crumbled down sooner than you think.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Over The Phone

Dad Bod!Professor!Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Just... NSFW. So much NSFW. Phone sex, masturbating, sexy selfies, sexting, all that shit.

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: God this took forever to churn out but I finally got motivation to finish it!!

Taglist: @cupcakeinat0r @tojishugetiddies (if I forgot to tag anybody let me know, pls! I lost the saved list I had for people alshldhd)

Divider by @/across-the-art-verse

Miguel art @ meeee

The day had dragged on for what felt like far longer than usual for him; the usual students who showed up late, tried to sneak out, slept through the lecture or just ignored whatever he said.

The students who listened and actively engaged with the lesson were few and far between, and the almost silent lull between classes felt felt almost too short. Sometimes he wondered why he bothered, especially with the growing list of students who were disinterested in his class, or those that only signed up for extra credit and didn't want to do the work...

But, getting cards and thank-you post-its from students who felt like they wouldn't have been able to graduate without him kept him on in this tedium. He loved to hear from his former students about how their new careers were going--careers they credit hi to helping them achieve.

It never failed to make his heart all warm and fuzzy when he thought about them.

Miguel ran his hand across his beard, and a thought came to him about maybe shaving it off. He had grown it out; rather rugged if he had to admit it. But, he quickly shook that thought away--you loved his beard. Oftentimes he would wake up from a nap, you snuggled perfectly against his solid frame, your nails dragging through the short hairs with a content smile on your face.

Oh, he couldn't say no to you, his pretty little wife, could he?

Speaking of which... it was your day off. He couldn't help but wonder what you were--

When his phone pinged, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and unlocks the screen to see a text from you;

Hiii baby, how's work going?

He chuckled and replied, Same as usual. Only two students slept through class this lime

*time

Your reply was swift.

Awww I'm sry :(

If it makes you feel any better, if I were in your class... wait. I wouldn't get any work done either. I'd just be lookin at you :p

He laughed, his belly shaking a little bit as he grinned at his screen, his massive fingers fumbling the small keys once again on the too-small phone screen.

Yes, you would mafe a very door student, wouldn't you, amor?

*made *poor

Miguel rolled his eyes. He was tempted to try and see if they didn't make phones built for someone with his giant hands in mind... Damn this tiny screen!

Awww my Miggy gettin all frustrated?

Yes.

For what felt like too long, his message was left on "read". He quirked a bushy brow, scratching at his beard curiously at what was keeping you.

And then, his phone pinged again.

Here, maybe this'll keep you entertained ;)

*Image attached. Click to view.*

He hummed in curiosity. Maybe it was one of those silly little doodles you liked to send to him? One of your memes, maybe? Though, it didn't make sense why the image was blurred, when--

His heart lurched up into his throat and he instantly slammed his phone against his desk, screen down; looking around pointlessly as if he were worried someone was standing over his shoulder when the image finally cleared.

Cursing himself for acting like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar, Miguel slowly lifted his phone to his face and looked at the picture you'd sent him.

You were nude, laying belly-down in your bed, the blankets askew around you. Your feet crossed one over the other as you smiled at the lens--you must have moved the full body mirror from the living room to your bedroom to achieve this shot--and your back was arched slightly to show off your bare ass.

He felt his cock twitch to life as he examined every pixel on the screen; wishing so badly he were home right now, to touch that soft expanse of flesh he loved so much. To cup your ass in his palms, feeling the warmth of your skin in his palms as his fingers massaged and groped the skin.

He could feel your hands slide up the soft pouch of his belly, scraping your nails delectably through the short, curly dark hairs that ran up his abdomen and covered his chest. He could feel your teeth scrape and tug his nipple before kissing your way back down...

Dios, mi amor. You're lucky I am not in the middle of a meeting! He hastily typed, pretending he wasn't practically salivating over that selfie.

Aw, didn't you like what I sent? :'(

I didn't say--

But before he could finish typing and send the text, he got another attached image from you.

He swallowed hard at the lump in his throat and his thumb hovered over the image hesitantly. He looked towards the clock above the door to his classroom. He had half an hour left...

When the image unblurred, he felt his heart damn near stop.

You were perched on the edge of the bed, your legs spread wide; one hand was holding your phone while the others spread you slick folds with nimble fingers and a cheeky expression on your face.

How bout this one?

Miguel groaned, loudly. He actually slipped a hand over his plush lips, cringing at how damn near pathetic that sounded.

He immediately clicked your contact information and hit "call".

The phone rang a painfully long, droning tone until your bubbly voice giggled on the other end of the line, "Heyyyy Miggy~"

"You are going to kill me, baby." He hissed into his phone, pressing the heel of his palm into his throbbing erection, "I'm in the middle of a school day! The students are at lunch!"

"Ohhh, did I get you all hard and excited for me?" You sigh dreamily into the phone, your voice dropping into a more sultry tone.

"Naughty boy, popping a stiffy in the middle of class."

He grunted, his head dropping back against his chair, the leather creaking under his weight as he tugged the ends of his button-up out from his rapidly-tightening jeans, "And whose fault is that?"

You gasp theatrically, "Mine? Oh, baby, I was just trying to provide you moral support, I swear!"

"Of course," Miguel huffed, eyeing the doorknob, waiting to see if he was unlucky enough that somebody were to walk in right as he pulled his cock free from his jeans, running his fingers over the swollen tip, smearing his precum around it.

He could hear in your voice, the way you were biting your lip in excitement as you spoke. "Baby, are you touching yourself?"

"You tell me, first." He replied, his voice strained as he gave himself a few tentative strokes; trying to gauge if the risk was worth it.

"Oh? Want me to tell you that I'm playing with my pussy?" You croon. "That I'm imagining you, and me, in bed..."

His teeth snagged his plush bottom lip briefly as he sped his hand up to your words, then slowed back down again. The friction wasn't right; too dry. So, he sucked on his tongue until he had a nice glob of saliva; bringing his hand up to his mouth to wet it before slicking his throbbing length up.

"Go on." He grumbled into the line.

"...ooooh." You giggled, your voice a little breathless. He could see you now, laying back on the bed, your fingers plunging in and out of you, pulling out to stroke your puffy clit; your pussy drooling into the blankets beneath you.

"Mmmm~ I'm also imagining you on top of me, my legs on your shoulders..."

He felt the oxygen squeeze from his lungs as he upped his pace, the vein in his cock throbbing and thumping in time with his rapid heart rate.

"Yeah, bebita?"

"Yeah." You huff, a small moan coming from you; "'m imagining you pinnin' me down, fucking a baby into me."

"Dios." Miguel groaned, thrusting his hips up to meet his fist. "You want a baby, hermosa? Want me to make you a mami?"

"Mhmm... want you to fill me aaaallllll the way up." You whined, your panting hot, even through the phone.

Miguel dared a glance up at the clock. Still had some time... He needed to do it quickly; needed to milk his cock so he wouldn't appear "improper" with a massive erection straining his pants.

As if enough of his female students (and even some of the male ones) didn't have enough difficulty paying attention in class...

He'd be lying if he hadn't gotten a few love confessions from students, present and former. He'd always politely turn them down, and then, if they were currently his pupils, politely and quietly have them sent to another class to avoid any improper behavior in the future.

It was as if none of them ever paid any mind to the gold band firmly secured to his ring finger--the matching mate to the one you wore on your own softer, delicate hand signifying your matrimonial bonds. Or... maybe they had and assumed they could tempt him from you.

Well, those assumptions were always wrong. The only person he could imagine bouncing on his cock, sucking it, milking it, stroking it--was you. You and only you.

Sometimes thinking of you when he was alone was the only ways he could get off, before you started dating. Even finding porn of a woman who looked like you wasn't enough. It had to be you.

And after the first time he felt your pretty pink pussy swallow his cock whole? Oh, he was addicted. Addicted and whipped, a few of his colleagues would say...

The professor and the school nurse; a bit of a cliche; but it was a nice one. The two of you had even played with a slutty nurse outfit or two.

You not always being the nurse...

"Fuck, Miggs, 'm so close." You whine loudly. He could see in his mind's eye how fast your fingers would be working your clit, maybe even giving in and plunging one of your silicone toys in and out of your tight hole for him.

In fact, he could imagine it so closely he could hear it.

"Shit, baby..." He hissed, his hand working his length furiously, now, almost in a race with you to see who would cum first. "You on speaker??"

"Mhmm~" You whine, your air leaving your body in wet-hot pants, the sound of your slick pussy being fucked--by your hand or your toy, he couldn't place--but the sound of it had his balls tightening up already.

"Gonna cum for me, mi amor?" Miguel huffed and puffed, more thick precum dribbling down from his tip. He smeared it over himself, using the fluid as lube to help hasten his impending orgasm.

"Yeah, baby~"

He snarled, the sound of stroking skin lewd and loud; your moans the best pornography his ears could ever be graced with.

"Cum for me, honey." Miguel whined, his glasses slipping further down his nose as he released his cock long enough to yank his shirt up over the soft, rounded edge of his tummy.

Immediately after, his hand returned once more around the thick pulsing shaft of him; stroking, tugging, milking himself like he knew your sweet cunt would. Your tight, wet, needy pussy that was dying for a drop of his cum.

As you wantonly moaned; he could imagine you splayed out in bed, legs wide and mouth open as you shout your orgasm out for him to hear, drowning out the outside world... and as his eyes would drift down, he could imagine your belly, cute and round; a baby kicking out at his hand as he caressed the stretched-out skin.

The image of you carrying his baby sent his mind into a blazing fire, the tightening in his balls and swelling of his cock too much to bear. Miguel arched his back, the wheels of his chair squeaking faintly across the floor as he curled his toes in his polished shoes, hot, thick ropes of cum shooting out to coat his belly, fingers, and even the underside of his desk; your name leaving his lips in a flurry of obscene prayers.

His mind was fuzzy as he slowly came down from his high, the sound of your giggle snapping him back to reality:

"See you when you get home, Miggy~"

The phone hangs up, and Miguel is left with his pearly white mess coating his belly, making his skin and hair sticky. At least he didn't get any on his shirt. This time.

The bell rang, suddenly, shaking him to full lucidity from his post-coital haze, his hairs standing on end and making him jolt up straight.

He hastily grabbed a few tissues from his desk drawer and began cleaning up, shoving a few stray stands of his graying hair back into place as he began to hear the chatter and footfall of students in the halls.

Oh, you would pay for this when you got home, all right.

[l0vergirlatheart]

Hello! I have this idea/request for sagau loosely based off of me and my friend’s dynamic where there are two separate creators. Like, not two reader clones or smth just two separate people, either of them can be reader, or both??? Idk, just do whatever you want with this idea :)

They both play genshin, and both of their accs r self aware. One of them is a whale who has all the characters and plays everyday. However, they dont know much about building characters because their fav part of the game is the lore and knows a lot abt it and always talks while playing. The other is a f2p that plays for several weeks straight before taking along break, and only has their fav characters (COUGH wanderer COUGH) and they are the type to never speak AT ALL while gaming. They also have more of a meta player mindset while building their fav characters and doesnt care for much for the lore.

I just like to imagine how the genshin cast would react to them in coop, especially for the first time. Just seeing one of them rant to the other about the lore or seeing one of them one shot all the enemies. And imagine two if the same characters from the different accs meeting each other.

absolutely love the idea of two wanderers as that silly little fucking spiderman meme

also there's scaramouche instead of wanderer for now for the plot

DOUBLES! ft. scaramouche and albedo

c.w // spoilers for sumeru quest and scara's backstory, heavy(?) angst in scara's part, pet names BECAUSE I CAN!!1!11!! GRAHH

start under cut

ALBEDO

"What are these talent levels?? Why'd you crown Albedo's normal attack? It's the most useless in his kit- you know you should've leveled his Skill, right?" You said, while you looked at your friends Albedo- it honestly hurt to look at.

"Uh.. Yeah, I totally knew that.. I just was.. testing it.. out..?" Your friend mumbled into their mic, obviously lying.

Meanwhile, in one of your worlds, two Albedos were silently watching the other.

'Why is there another me? I could've swore I killed Dorian.. but he also has a star mark. It looks exactly like mine.' They both thought to themselves.

Eventually, one of them spoke out.

"Who are you?" Albedo said, staring at the other blankly, the smallest bit of confusion and fascination only seen if you truly tried to look for it hard within his eyes.

"I am Albedo."

"I am also Albedo. Are you sure you're really 'Albedo'?"

"Are you sure you're Albedo?"

This went on for a while.. neither of them were like this usually, but the other just wouldn't give up. Both were persistent when curiosity had peaked, and this just got very interesting.

end : 1/2

SCARAMOUCHE

"...well, that was one hell of a boss fight.." You mumbled under your breath.. you had barely managed to make it out of Scaramouche's boss fight alive-- half of your characters were dead, and the others were barely hanging on by a thread-- you truly need to thank the ancient Genshin cooks for Sweet Madames and Chicken Mushroom Skewers..

"It sucks that Scara really thinks that about himself. I mean, sure, he was abandoned by Raiden, but not because he was weak or anything. It's really because she just didn't want to control every aspect of his life, but there are of course, better ways she could've done that. You do have to understand that both made mistakes that lead them to where they are now, and..." You went off on a ramble, and unbeknownst to you, a certain purple-haired boy was listening to everything that spilled from your lips.

Everything he's ever known and believed in-- it was all just.. just a misunderstanding? He felt hopeless all of a sudden, he felt like falling.. and he did.

That's when you looked back at the screen, suddenly knocked out of your rambling state and (semi)yelled out, "Oh shit, ain't nobody gonna catch him?!" ...and nobody did. You silently flinched at the sound of the impact-- even through a screen, you could tell that hurt horribly.

"Oh no, poor darling.." You mumbled sympathetically as you read each and every word stated and said during the 'quest,' just like you did with each and every other one. You knew all of this yet you still felt so sad for the poor puppet Scaramouche. He really didn't deserve any of that, you thought to yourself as you wished you could've done something, or that you could do something.. if only it weren't through a screen.

Scaramouche hated being pitied, but maybe.. maybe if it was you, he didn't mind, and maybe he felt a small sense of pride because it meant in some way, and at some point, you cared for him.. and that filled him with more joy than either of you realized, and much more joy than you ever will even think.

end : 2/2

[iridescentdove]

Hey hey!! Can I request a Nikolai and fyodor (separate) x reader who’s really into photography and takes a lot of photos of them! Then gets super embarrassed if they catch them?

Nikolai & Fyodor x Photographer! Reader

The serene sound of a camera clicking as you relish in the peaceful autumn breeze. It was quiet, and calm – just as you always liked it. The scene was beautiful.

There was nothing better than you, your beloved, and your precious camera as you took photos under the warm sun.

NIKOLAI GOGOL:

For quite a while now, Nikolai has been seeing you with your precious phone or camera all the time. He hasn't seen you without it nowadays.

Well, it sparked his curiosity – but he did know you had a knack for these kind of things now.

And honestly, he really likes your shots! It's always taken beautifully and the photo is clear as day. Most of the time you don't really show him, but special occassions you do.

You took a little photo of a bird eating once!

Nikolai was ecstatic when looking through them. There's a small sparkle in his eyes no one would have ever seen.

The fluffy, rare white birdies that flock around as you fed them. He loves it. Jing Yuan??

One day, you both decided to have a picnic. Just for fun, and to value the precious time you guys had while still free. Lots of snacks and ice cream!

Of course, pictures. You took lots of them. From the birds in the sky to the food you had made yourself.

Although they were beautiful, nothing compares to Nikolai.

The soft, golden glow around his body – the sun making his features similar to that of an angels. Oh! How handsome he is. The genuine, warm smile on his face blooming in joy.

You were at a loss for words. He was just too pretty to be true. All you could do...was raise your camera.

Well, you did try to be sneaky. Try.

Seeing him staring at the vast blue of the sky was a perfect angle in all honesty. But he looked the moment you took it.

And i now present to you, a teasing Nikolai.

He is downright DISRESPECTFUL when it comes to being a teasing, pretty boy of a lad like him. He stares at you with a glint of his green eyes, and you were dead right then since.

"Oh! Does my sweet birdy find me a photograph-worthy sight? Hm~?" He inches closer, face full of mischief.

You're just...flaming red. He's not even flirting man, that's overrated. Dazai crying in the corner

Although he does pester you to show him the glorious photo, you do so either way. And both of you enjoy looking at them all, smiles on your faces.

Since irl he's inspired by a writer, i headcanon he points to each photo and creates a small little story for it <3 cute!

And for the meme worthy photos...

Let's just say both of your stomachs hurt for laughing so much at his jokes. Uses random Gen Z humor he learned

"The bird shat respectfully. The manz was too stunned to speak, poo-poo on his rizz-worthy head."

In other words, it was a successful picnic ;)

FYODOR DOSTOYEVSKY:

You'd never catch this mf off guard, EVER. It's so rare if you actually do, super incredibly rare.

Once in a blue moon.

But he appreciates it. Your love language is almost just sending him cute photos at this point, whether it be of you both or just him.

He's a hacker. I'd bet he hacks into your camera just to look at the shots himself bitch

Then again, you never fail to make his heart boom-boom. For a special occassion like his birthday or christmas, you'd prepare the gift wholeheartedly.

You'll print out the most prettiest photos of him you could find, and design it with aesthetic stickers and notes <3

It was the fanciest photo-card + letter he's ever seen.

Obviously rat, that's our gn kween (y/n)

And you may think he never appreciates it due to his calm and sadistic demeanor, but this man keeps it in his room and looks at it everyday with an actual genuine smile.

He'll never admit it, only when he probably feels romantic which is uh...let's countdown to 2738282 years /j

When you're just hanging out with him while he works, you just take photos for fun. His office may seem dark but your camera brings justice good phone? couldn't be me

But one particular time, you decided to attempt and be sneaky to take his photo.

The position he was in was perfect, so it was time.

You really thought you had it in the bag too. He just chuckles the moment you put the camera on him, and he turns around as you click.

You wanna strangle his ass <3

But oh hell, he's gonna be sly. Smirking at you all the while seeing your cute face turn completely red.

"милый, you seem to be enjoying yourself. Why not do a photo face-to-face?" He whispers, looking straight into your eyes as you nesrly die in fluster.

He's definitely having his fun teasing you, playing it out and making you look like a simp.

But the moment he stands up, fucking run

You're not making out of it alive the moment he gets his hands on that camera. He's merciless when it comes to teasing his bbg (ew /j)

Then again, at times he'll lie down with you peacefully, looking at the photos in silence.

He'll love every shot taken because it's you.

[miitarashi]

I got a really dumb idea for a short story, I think its kinda cute though, like you know how people act all weird when under anasthetics? So like, what if Tintin just got surgery coz of an accident on a mission and he got put on anasthesia so the reader visits him at the hospital and he's acting all dumb and stuff, like bro, that would be the best mixture of stupid and wanting to hug him for eternity bc he's so adorable :D

AWWW 🥺 That's such criative idea! Very thank you for it! I'll do my best to write it perfectly (of course will have a one or two memes related to it lol)

[Name] = your name (neutral since it wasn't specified)

Warnings: probably none,just silly things :)

Prompt: Tintin affected by anesthesia

The adventure was going just fine.

Until Tintin get thrown through the window from a pretty dangerous and high place.

It was literally a down hill for him. But,just like any other death threaten situation,the luck goddess made him get in the right moment into the hospital to get treated from the injury he had,being bad enough to the doctors having to inject an quite generous amount of anesthesia for him not feel anything,but this end up working too well because he wasn't even thinking about anything.

After the surgery was successful,the doctors liberate Tintin to receive visitors so you and Haddock could finally see him. Walking into his room,his body was ok by what you could guess by a quick look just having some bandages that pass through his left shoulder,some on his neck and left arm.

"Lad? Are yeh awake? Please talk to 'us!" - Haddock said kinda desperate still,distrassed by the situation even after you tried to comfort him.

But,his shooting (since he basically screamed) made Tintin slowly wake up,his eyes opening with blury vision looking first at the captain while still feeling heavily the effects of the anesthesia on his body and mind,feeling light-headed and numb,probably being the first time his mind is empty but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was high.

"...Hello...please don't scream captain..." - he sounded a bit weak at first,still on the process of waking up.

"Lad! Thank Gods yeh fine! Yeh scare' the shit out of me back there!" - and readily,he dismissed Tintin's request speaking loud again.

"Captain,please control yourself" - you scold him who finally get it and nod,sitting on a nearby chair.

Hearing your voice seemed odd for Tintin,like he knew and didn't knew who was at the same time. With half open eyes,the jornalist looked at you,confused but intrigued,his empty mind starting to work again as he smiles a bit.

"...Hello...you...look nice..." - now,he sounded drunk almost. Lazy and drunk.

"...oh well,thank you" - you say with a light chuckle by his state.

Upon hearing your laugh,he felt his smile growing while still holding his gaze on you.

"...your laugh is sweet...i like it...it's good to hear..." - his honest along with a lazy tone only made things even better.

Haddock was holding back a chuckle when he saw your cheeks becoming a bit red by the compliment.

"...oh...you're blushing...you look cute...blushing..." - Haddock had to look away to control himself,feeling your elbow hitting his arm only making him laugh more at the situation.

"Ok ok,i guess you've talked enough,better get some rest so your wounds will heal faster" - you said while trying to keep a straight face even still being a bit red by his praises.

But the straight face soon tear apart when you watched his smile decrease into a sad one,his half open eyes turning into almost sad puppy dog eyes staring right back at you.

"....No...i don't want to sleep...i want to keep talking with you...and looking at you...please...?" - you never knew he could pull this move,you couldn't bring,not even dare yourself to say no anymore. He was even pouting! It shouldn't be fair.

"And why you want it so much..?" - you asked out of curiosity,since we are already here,the thing is to enjoy while it last.

He seemed confused again,looking away,trying to make his empty head work slowly getting something back from his memory but still not completely sure, shruging a little.

"I...don't really know...it's just feels good...to look at you...i feel...things...like warm and...fuzzy things...i feel...tingling sensations..." - his explanations was almost like a child trying to express his feelings in the best way his toddler language could.

"Maybe they put way too much anesthesia 'on him,but well,isn't he a little adorable lad?" - Haddock joke with the situation,finally feeling more at ease and without worries.

You couldn't have said it better,Tintin was goofy and silly making him adorable by how high he was. You laughed again,his smile growing by hearing it. You moved closer still with a smirk on your light red face,when you touched his chest his eyes even opened a bit more making him more aware of everything for a moment.

"...i think...someone that i know...would feel upset if they see you touching my chest like that..." - you frown,trying to get what he meant and when you understood,you just shook your head with a smile.

"Your partner?" - his eyes open wide and so does his smile when he nod.

"Yes...! You should stop then..."

"Tintin,i'm your partner"

He looked straight at your for a whole minute before looking back at Haddock who only nodded and then,his gaze fall back on yours. Since he was still attached to the machine that kept his cardiac beat in monitoring,letting beeps in the background,as soon you said it the beeps fastened for a moment with his face getting red.

"Oh...hi darling...!" - he spook in a happy tone making both you and the captain laugh at Tintin's antics.

"Finally you get it,i was worried for a second" - you joke with a quick giggle.

"I'm sorry...it's hard to think...when i'm feeling like a banana..." - he said with a quick chuckle resting his head back against the pillow.

"Yeah,they really didn't hold the hand on the anesthesia. Yeh look' wasted" - the old sea man get up,adjusting his hat before walking closer.

"...yeah...it's funny..."

"Your drunk-like state?" - you question. He shake his head.

"...i didn't reconize you...but...when i see you...i fell more hard than from the window..." - your blush spread across your face,Haddock even seem surprised before laughing and giving some pats on your back.

"Well played lad! Even in this state he couldn't resist you!" - he laugh again and you shush him away a bit embarrassed but with a tiny goofy smile because the captain was right.

"Ok ok,you're being too cute for my heart to take,now go rest" - and again,those damm puppy eyes staring at your soul.

"...but why...? I love you..." - you was almost crying by this point,being this adorable should be a crime.

"He's more clingy than anythin'. Well,take care of him for a bit,i'll go talk with the doctor about somethin'. Be right back" - he wink at you before walking out on purpose to let you alone with Tintin.

"[Name]...why dad just left the room...?"

"Captain would be over the moon if he heard this" - you giggle - "don't worry to much,you still hurted,focus on getting better ok?" - he nod slowly.

"[Name]...? Pat me..? It feels like home when you do it...like...it's like you're my home...please...?" - you had to take a deep breath,after this you could feel the tears. He already express himself normally but being this honest was something different you wasn't ready for.

With a nod,you move your chair to be right beside his bed and reach your hand to caress his cheek and hair,watching his eyes closing in contentment while moving against your hand to feel more of your touch,even kissing your hand when you get distracted enough for him to do so, chuckling at your blushing face.

"...sorry...i couldn't help it...your face is cute...when it's red...and...i'm feeling...silly..." - he admit still with a little smile,looking for the window on his left thoughtfully.

"....if i jump..." - he say after a long pause getting your attention - "i'm pretty sure i can fly" - and the intrusive thoughts begin.

"What? Jump? Like...through the window..?" - he nod.

"Yes...i mean...peter pan always said that we should just believe to get it right...? I believe in myself..." - he was speaking with a certain that made you sigh. He's going from adorable to goofy ass reckless.

"Tintin,you'll only fall and get hurted again" - he looked at you with a shocked expression.

"Don't you believe in me..?? I thought you loved me..........let me try and show you then-"

"Tintin no!"

You had to hold him on bed to prevent him from getting up and jumping through the window hearing some small protests but luck you,the anesthesia still was making his body limp so he give up when his body wasn't responding like he wanted. Tintin was even pouting again,sad because he couldn't jump through the window.

"I'm sorry,but you know you can't"

"...but i could try..."

"No,if you jump,i would feel really sad,you want to make me sad?" - he immediately shook his head with an apologetic expression.

"No...! Please don't be sad...it hurts when you're sad..." - you smiled,moving your hand back to his cheek.

"Ok then,i'll not. Ready to rest now?" - with your hand on his cheek,he quickly relax nodding with a content sigh.

"Will you and captain...captain...? Dad..? Will you and dad be here when i wake up?" - he corrected himself like the word wasn't sounding right and you nod with a giggle.

"Of course we'll"

He smiled softly,resting his face against your hand to enjoy your soothing caress while closing his eyes to finally sleep. After this,you'll be obviously teasing him about it later,it's way too good to not do so.

————————————————————————

N/A: heya! Two request in a short amount of time?? It's just because now i discovered the programation of the posts lol. So the blog will not be stopped for too long. This one was really fun to make,Tintin in a silly goofy state must be the most adorable thing and i had to make it. Hope you guys liked it,thanks for reading! 😘

[thebramblewood]

hello!! I've been quite obsessed with your stories lately (my friends r probably so sick of me posting Caleb cuntily dying onto his piano keys whenever something bad happens) but I do want to ask what was your interpretation of Morgyn like before they died because I'm quite interested from the tidbits that are already there (my friends are probably also sick of me putting feministly in front of all of Lilith's crimes. me when I feministly kill the three magic sages)

Oh my god, I'm obsessed with the idea of Caleb dying and Lilith committing crimes being memes among you and your friends. Makes me feel properly famous, lmao! I saw your tags about Lilith feministly offing the Sages the other day and cracked up.

There are a lot of gaps in Morgyn's character for me because they were never originally meant to be in the story. But then Caleb became a more important character, and then I started thinking about his past, and then I remembered the Sages were killed at one point in my legacy, and I realized it was too perfectly tragic not to use. So my interpretation of Morgyn in this story has always been filtered through the lens of their death first and foremost.

That being said, I imagine their younger self being very hesitant and cautious and perhaps a little underestimated and misunderstood. The magic they grew up around was mostly practical and unremarkable, and they didn't realize the full extent of their unique abilities until arriving in the Magic Realm to study. Under the tutelage of L. Faba especially, they grew their confidence and power and eventually joined her on the Sages Council. As a Sage, they took their responsibilities very seriously but also liked to have fun in their spare time, which the older, more "settled" Sages weren't entirely approving of. Morgyn had grown to be very free-spirited and uninhibited by this time and taught Caleb to be less neurotic and more spontaneous.

Caleb and Morgyn met at the end of the '90s and were together for a little more than a decade by the time Lilith... did what she did. I've thought a lot about how they met but haven't settled on a story that fully satisfies me. At that time, I see Caleb still being pretty standoffish and introverted, but he went out a lot more than he does now, especially to concerts. I imagine they met at a club or a bar when Morgyn was playing hooky from their Sage duties far away from the Realm. They both enjoyed being immersed in human culture because they never wanted to lose that side of themselves. Morgyn immediately saw Caleb for what he was but not in a judgmental way, which set Caleb at ease. He felt like Morgyn both understood and accepted him, which then made it easy for him to fall in love.

Another thing I haven't fully settled on is Morgyn's age. They were older than they looked because all the Sages used magic to suspend the effects of aging, but I also don't think they were as old as Caleb. I can't decide what decade they might have been born in, though. Maybe some of these blanks will be filled in eventually, but as of now I don't have any fleshed out ideas for future Morgyn flashbacks. I'd love to explore their relationship more, of course. It's just a matter of what ends up feeling like it serves the movement of the story! This reply got super long, but I hope it satisfied your curiosity. Thank you so much for being such a fan! 💜

[mindl3sssoul]

Fluttering Love

“I don't feel lonely when I see her

Even my sad emotions disappear far away, She's my fairy of shampoo

I will love you now.”

་༘࿐Summary: where Yuuta unexpectedly falls in love with you, who illuminates his world and transforms his life with your presence.

✧this is based from the song fairy of shampoo by dosii!

Word count: 788 words

Reader's gender is unspecified!

Prologue

School year just started 4 months ago, you've made some friends along the way, most of your friends are popular among the students, although you were not that much fond of it.

Fame was never your problem, you disliked it. You want to maintain yourself as a normal student, not a famous one nor an unrelevant individual.

You sat at your chair like as always, your friends kept pestering you about your love life. You never had any interest on someone, most of your friends already has their significant other. You can't help but just stare at them being sweet to each other, finding yourself making a weirded out expression, despite the stirring heavy feeling down your heart.

The other day, rumors scattered all over the school about a new transferee, you didn't mind it. You just ignored it, but your mind can't help but wonder about it, you thought again, that it's best to not let your curiosity get to it.

Just as usual, you went to your classroom, met with the warm atmosphere and the laughter of your classmates with their banters. You sighed, used to the noise as months passes by.

You head to your desk and chair, placing down your school bag on the side, fixing your uniform before sitting down comfortably. You took out your phone, putting your headphones on to distract and reduce the noises around you. Playing fairy of shampoo by dosii. It is always a classic, a song you adored, that you can never get tired of.

Mindlessly scrolling to social media, giggling to yourself everytime you pass by a meme, about a toilet with head. You could only wish you had someone to share them to, but oh well you were akward as hell, you stutter at your own words sometimes which makes you wanna rip your hair off your head.

Time passed by and the class is about to begin, stuffing your phone back to your uniform's pocket. You sighed, preparing to listen to another hour of your teacher's yapping session.

You never really paid attention when your teacher entered the room, but your head rose up, the word transferee ringing through your ears. You averted your gaze from your teacher to the boy standing infront, noticing his every movement, fiddling with the hem of his shirt nervously, dark circles visible on his undereye, it almost looked like he was blushing because of how it almost reached his cheeks.

Your teacher finally spoke which brought you back into your senses, you haven't realized you've been staring at him for a whole minute, analyzing him like you're a professional detective.

"Alright class, before we start an another lesson, let your new classmate introduce himself first."

The guy infront a little when he heard the loud voice, staying quiet for awhile, trying to ease his anxiety. He sighed shakily before hesitating to speak and introduce himself.

"I.. I'm Okkotsu Yuta, It's nice to meet you all and.. ehh.. I hope.. we get all along..?"

He sounded like he was on the verge of breaking down infront, averting his eyes immediately from the audience, back to staring in the floor again. You can't help but click your tounge on the roof of your mouth, looking outside the window to distract yourself a little bit, but you can't help but wander back to think about the guy. Then, your teacher spoke once again.

"Then, you may take a sit Okkotsu, beside that student."

Your own teacher pointed at your direction, feeling betrayed when he didn't call you by your own name. Cursing him on your mind

"Yeah this is why your hair is almost looking like a crater of a volcano."

"And for your information you can still say my name and point at me! Its [name]! I'm definitely gonna sue you."

You mumbled all to yourself, frustration etched on for features a little, you didn't even realized that the boy was already sitting beside you, keeping a comfortable distance between you two. You eye him from the side, not wanting to turn your gaze directly at him. You have his gaze, but turned away immediately when he sensed you staring at him from the side, his cheeks flushing a light red hue.

A bead of sweat rolled down your cheeks, both from the akwardness and the warm weather, even though it's still spring. You gather the courage to speak, to introduce yourself, to at least lessen the akwardness.

Clearing your throat, which definitely caught his attention, you hoped you won't stutter or embarass yourself randomly this time, if you did, for sure you're definitely going to rip all of your hair out.

a/n: This is the first fic I wrote, English is not my first language so please bear with me! I'll try to update this as soon as possible!

[therentyoupay]

Jelsa + office/workplace AU for 3 sentence fic please?

♡ image ♡♡ askbox meme ♡♡♡ on ao3 (uninvited)

The early morning fog made Elsa's corner office feel oddly reminiscent of just last week when she'd sat atop the Austrian Alps, sipping fresh dark coffee from her balcony, wondering if Anna truly needed her back in the office by Monday... and knowing all the while that she'd be back, according to schedule, no matter what.

You have no choice.

She stamped down the tiny whisperings of resentment and bitterness and curiosity, and you don't want to be here, you've never wanted to be here, as she meticulously arranged her notes for the morning meeting. Elsa cleared her mind as she sat in her cold, crisp office on the 118th floor, sipping homemade decaf coffee from her familiar thermos, unable to keep from wondering what the look on Anna's face might be, if she—in all her leadership, all her efficiency, all her planning and honesty and meticulous preparations—ever actually found the nerve to step down, step back, step away, and let Anna rise up in her stead, to take control of the company that Elsa had always been too efficient not to lead but had never truly wanted.

"Oh," a voice cut through Elsa's useless daydreaming so quickly she actually started—and was therefore all the more annoyed for it when she saw a young man—James? John? Jacob? she should really know Anna's new temp by now, but she was slipping so quickly, so distracted these days—"My bad, I thought you'd probably want one but it looks like you already got yours."

Elsa glanced to his arms—full of three carriers, honestly, who had sent him out for so many coffees at once, and who did she need to have a word with about the way this company treated their temporary staff?—and then her gaze landed on the compostable to-go cup of black iced coffee labeled decaf and, to her mild horror and amusement, scary boss.

"Uh," he—Jason? Jameson?—was blushing, when he, too, saw the label. Good, she thought, ruthlessly. "Um. They weren't supposed to write that down."

Elsa raised a single brow.

"But!" he was grinning, clearly caught out and not anxious about it in the slightest, and suddenly Elsa had many questions about Anna's newest addition to her staff. (Elsa deliberated—cold and stern? gracious and merciful?—and settled for something in between.) He was starting to back away, anyhow, toward the door, "I didn't realize you bring your coffee from home, and you already have one, so, I won't bother you—"

"If not to me, then to whom might you deliver it?" He froze. She held her thermos aloft, looking him carefully in the eye, so that he could see the gentle curve of her smirk—she saw the edge of tension in his shoulders lessen, watched the glow of his face in early morning skyscraper fog slide into something easier, something more playful.

Interesting.

Disrespect? No, she would have smelled that a mile away.

Unprofessional? A little, certainly, but Elsa—look at what you're doing this very moment?

She watched his eyes flip through possible answers like a gameshow contestant, and he tentatively offered, "... Anna?"

Elsa grinned in spite of herself, at the clear lie within; Anna had many worthy leadership qualities, but she'd always been more approachable than Elsa, no matter the day. Intimidating? When Anna wanted to be, sure. Scary? Hardly.

"A worthy answer," she praised, which had the most interesting result of him lighting up—and blushing again. He was clearly harmless.

Oh, what the hell.

Elsa carefully moved a stack of paperwork—crisp, tidy, ready to be ignored for review—to the side, and pulled a second coaster from its stack, then gently laid the coaster on the corner of her desk. And waited.

"Oh. You don't have to—I mean—"

"Jack," she commanded, as his name flooded back to her in a sudden sweep of memory; Anna had mentioned something about being very excited to hire him on for the next month or two, something about helping a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend who was down on his luck. "Leave the coffee."

He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. Perhaps a bit too pleased with himself... She stamped down the sudden self-doubt and alarm; it was good for employee morale to keep spirits high and to show some of her humanity whenever she could—snow queen, ice queen, they whispered, when they were too careless to recognize that she had eyes and ears everywhere in this kingdom of hers—but this. Was this too much? What have I done?

He did not immediately provide any relief on that front as he walked up to her desk with a truly shit-eating grin that was already grating along her spine. He carefully balanced all three carriers and delivered her iced coffee to her coaster with an alarmingly apt degree of coordination. Elsa blinked.

"Black, decaf, light ice," he grinned, righting himself and his coffee carriers. "What should I ask them to write on your cup, next time?"

My name? she thought dryly, then paused. For reasons she could not quite pin down, she gave him a level stare and said, "Surprise me."

She'd assumed he couldn't light up any further, but clearly, she was wrong.

With an aye, aye, madam! and an exaggeratedly playful wink—which completely caught her off-guard—he easily and gracefully backed out of the ajar door to her office, which he gently nudged open with his foot—his foot!! like it were a barn door or something!—with 11 more cups of coffee deftly balanced in his capable hands, and was gone.

Elsa suddenly eyed the drink on her desk with a mixture of shock, alarm, and curiosity, knowing deep in her bones that her well-established routine was thoroughly and utterly disrupted. She reminded herself again that he would be gone in only a matter of weeks, anyway; Elsa remembered something now from Anna about how Jack was moving between jobs, between states, floating from place to place, so all of this would be over before it started—before what started, Elsa?! So, really, there was no cause for alarm.

Elsa sipped her unnecessary, uninvited, decaf, black, light-ice, iced coffee, and gazed into the morning New York City fog, and wondered.

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine the Marvel cast finding out you’re suicidal.

It was strange, how you basically dropped off the face of the planet between shooting the movies that you were in, for the MCU. You had formed such a great family relationship with everyone, even the ‘originals’ like Mark Ruffalo, Chris Evans, Robert Downy Jr, thinking of you as one of their kinds almost. You were the youngest, even younger than Tom Holland, so when they received nothing but radio silence, and there wasn’t a single story about you in the tabloids, for four months, they all grew concerned.

When you did come in for the first day of shooting, you looked tired. The make up artists did what they could for your dark circles, but it was evident that you had been through something. All throughout the day, Scarlett, Chris Evans, Elizabeth Olsen, they all asked you if you were okay and you gave them the thumbs up but they could all see that something was wrong.

You continued to wave them off but it got exhausting, so after the long day of shooting, you asked them to meet you by your trailer. The group grew larger - everyone that cared about you came out - The Chris’, Robert, Mark, Scarlet, Tom, Paul, Elizabeth, even Benedict was there, all of them looking at you with concern and curiosity.

“I only want to say this once,” You said, a little nervously. You couldn’t look anybody in the eye, not even Tom Holland, who was your best friend on set. “And then I don’t really want to talk about it again. But um - the reason why I didn’t reach out to anyone the last couple of months was because ... I was in the hospital.”

Instantly, Chris Evans put a comforting arm around you, worry filling his face. Everyone was expecting now some sort of medical diagnosis - especially after what had happened with Chadwick. They didn’t want to lose another friend. Another member of the team.

“I um -” You said, really not wanting to say it out loud. But you had been going to therapy, having to admit to your problems wasn’t anything all that new anymore. “I have depression. And ... I tried to kill myself.”

There were collective gasps and instant questions but you put your hand up. “I’ve been being treated for it and ... I think we’ve finally found the right combination of medication and therapy so ... I mostly just .. want to ask that you be a bit patient with me. I didn’t mean to blow any of you off. You all mean the world to me.”

You were met with the utmost support. Hugs and encouraging words and they all promised you their patience. But it was when they were alone, each one of them in their trailers for the night, that their minds really started to delve in on this new information. You were so young, you had so much potential, so much life ahead of you, what had gone wrong to make you have such terrible thoughts about yourself, about the world?

It made their mindsets different. And it made them treat you different, even though you had specifically requested no special treatment. They almost lost you, and they were going to do everything - bringing you breakfast to your trailer, running to you first to tell you a joke that they heard, sending you memes - they could to make sure that they never actually did.

Requested by: Anonymous

[magpie-come-east]

Melina for the character ask meme!!

favorite thing about them

I'm sorry. This answer is going to be really uninteresting because I do not have any strong opinions about Melina, really. It's not that I dislike her, but she never left that big of an impression on me. That is, until I did the Frenzy Flame ending.

I enjoy her role in that questline. I love that Shabriri puts forth his stupid fucked up trolley problem (burn the world to ash to save one bodiless woman) and Melina outright tells the player over and over that being kindling is what she wants. She has all the trappings of a classic damsel in that storyline, but she- as the lone sacrifice needed to change the world- begs the player not to remove her agency in this choice.

least favorite thing about them

I think my opinion here will echo many others'. But I think Melina was really underutilized. As the Tarnished's companion at the very start of their quest, she should have more of a presence in their journey. Apart from a few lines about Boc or Torrent, she doesn't express much character of her own (outside of the FF quest). She spouts exposition and is the level up mechanic that the player doesn't even interact with all that much.

The scene of Melina's sacrifice has always felt semi-flat in consequence. The tenderness she feels for the player doesn't feel earned. I genuinely didn't understand why she was so fond of my character the first time I got to that point.

Like I don't need her become the SparkNotes of the narrative in her dialogue, but I think her showing curiosity and interest in the world around her more often would endear me so much more. As she is now, she's just the macguffin I largely ignore on nearly all my subsequent playthroughs.

favorite line

"However ruined this world has become, however mired in torment and despair, life endures. Births continue. There is beauty in that, is there not?"

This is the one line from Melina that stuck with me. It's the one that I remember most out of everything. Very few times does Elden Ring look at you through the screen and dictate the story to you obviously. But this is one of those times. Melina sees hope for the world. She's pleading for the player not to destroy the world. And her reasoning feels weak. Life endures? That's all she has? But in a way its the most important consideration.

brOTP/OTP (Combining these because the answer is the same)

I mean, actually, I really like Lord of Frenzied Flame Tarnished x Melina. That friends to enemies angst is magnificent. Melina having to live with the reality that her chosen Tarnished chose to destroy everything for her sake. Brutal. The Tarnished now being hunted by the person they immolated themselves to save. Exquisite.

General Melina x Tarnished is also sweet. Fics of Tarnished befriending Melina are what made me care even a little about her in the first place.

nOTP

Eh, nothing really. I don't seek out content of her enough to know what ships exist beyond Melina x Tarnished.

random headcanon

Melina craves Rowa Raisins so bad. She wishes she had a body just so she could eat them.

unpopular opinion

I am not convinced at all Melina is the Gloam Eyed Queen. It’s a theory I’ve never really found compelling for a variety of reasons I won’t really get into- except for one. I feel like trying to connect every historical figure in the Lands Between to a current character makes the world feel smaller and incestuous. Like the only people ever of import had to come from Marika’s lineage. I thought it was neat enough we got nods to Melina being a Demigod- then practical confirmation in SOTE. But I don’t believe Melina being the GEQ adds anything interesting to either Melina as we know her or the GEQ. 

song i associate with them

Welcome Home by Coheed and Cambria (its got the LOFF vibes to meeeee)

Escape pod by Paris Paloma is a great one too!

[stalwaria]

an adoring kiss because the other is rambling 

Yunaka's flower crown looks way worse than the one Etie made, but the archer still manages to make it look pretty. It might be the field. It might be the flowers. It might be the company. But Yunaka feels calmer than she ever has before in her life, and she's pretty sure Etie has something to do with it.

She's smiling softly as she listens to the other girl explain...something. She lost track. She doesn't know when. But Etie's still talking, with a small smile on her face and flowers on her head and Yunaka's own head is still ringing with all the nice things Etie said before and

and it takes a second for Yunaka to realize she's kissed her. It takes another second for her to realize she's still kissing. She jumps back and covers her face with her arms.

"Shi- SHOOT! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do that, I don't know what happened I just- Oh man, that was so stupid of me I'm so sorry, please don't be mad!"

kiss meme (accepting!)

"Flowers are really versatile, you know?" Etie threads one stem through another, fingers moving through the steps of weaving a flower crown. Might make a couple more for Alfred and Céline, too. "They're not just for show. My hometown produces many different varieties, and they're used for tea and medicine. At the start of the year, we even candy the petals to serve as treats at the spring festival—"

Emerald eyes flicker up from the wreath of flowers, going to meet Yunaka's, when—

When...

Etie had never kissed anyone before. Not one gentleman caller. Not even out of a fleeting moment (or, moments) of curiosity with a friend, like so many of the other noble daughters she knew.

So she can only sit in a mix of awkwardness and surprise as Yunaka does just that, the archer's mind reeling at the feel of soft lips against her own. Of floral scents and fruity perfumes, mingling with the soap of Yunaka's hair, and the lingering sweat that clung to Etie after that last run she had, and... Dragons, it wasn't TOO noticeable, was it!? Not too overpowering???

She KNEW she shouldn't have run to the meadow, she shouldn't have...!

The other woman reels back, hopefully not in disgust, and begins flustering and apologizing in a sort of panic Etie had rarely ever seen from her before.

"I, um. I—" Her face felt hot. Way too hot. "It's not... I'm not mad, it's just..." Cheeks burning as red as her favorite tulips, Etie stares down Yunaka. As much as she wanted to run the embarrassment off, that'd be rude. That'd be...

"I didn't do it right. You caught me by surprise, and all." She's flustered. Even a little happy. But it takes everything in her not to scream at what she's saying right now. "Maybe we can, um... t-try again...?"

Oh, Divine... take her now.

[jannwrites]

tv show ask meme : GUILLERMO DEL TORO’S CABINET OF CURIOSITIES (2022). (2/2)

a selection of lines from the horror anthology cabinet of curiosities. modified slightly for rp purposes.

PICKMAN'S MODEL.

behind everything beautiful lies the dark.

beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but what about the horror?

you can't rush perfection.

all i said is i don't see what the fuss is about.

i just fail to see what's so interesting about them.

i think the rats got to her.

these are...powerful. the darkness, the ugliness, the corruption.

we cannot let sympathy or altruism shield us from finding the truths of this world.

sometimes, when i'd wake in the night, i'd hear them through the floor.

what is happening to me?

i mean, you knew how important this was to me.

i don't even recognize you anymore.

what is art in this modern world without truth?

i think we need to give them some names. i think they deserve that.

someone's up awfully late this evening.

Ii's my business to catch the undertones of the soul.

if there are any ghosts round here, they're the tame ghosts of a salt marsh and a shallow cove.

i feel like you're disappearing from me.

the darkness has a way of catching me.

it must be shocking to see the state of things here.

do you feel it, [name]? the fear.

what you make--it crawls behind the eyes, it makes you crazy.

i know where fear lives.

DREAMS IN THE WITCH HOUSE.

don't you worry. i'll help you figure it out.

i promised you I'd protect you. you remember that, don't you?

who has the power to break it down?

i know the other side is real. i've seen it.

maybe it's time that we consider what else we can do with our lives.

the house has undeniable powers.

you care more about your dead sister than the living.

i've seen a forest. a forest that takes the dead inside.

wait, wait. you're telling me that you put an unknown chemical from an unknown gentleman into your body?

what we need to do is knock some sense into you.

i think you're desperate, [name].

i think you'd do anything, anything, to prove that what you've been fighting for is real.

i'm sorry. i'm sorry i couldn't save you when i had the chance.

if i hadn't been so afraid, i wouldn't have ended up here.

i couldn't think of anything else but seeing you again.

i have to investigate that house.

something stalked you here. it followed you through the door.

there's something in there trying to hurt us.

i feel the energy her anger left behind.

they stuck pins in her to see if she would bleed.

what demons have you been conjuring?

the dead want you now.

i hope you understand what you brought to this world.

what i've done cannot be undone!

i told you, you couldn't escape me.

i'll ride this body as long as it will last.

THE VIEWING.

you're like a legend.

hey, buddy, got a smoke?

i was intrigued for sure.

what kind of flowers are these?

well, it looks amazing and sounds amazing.

i am not gonna let temptation get the better of me.

it made its way across all that chaos, all of that potential destruction, longer than many human lives, to us here tonight.

i want to know what your stunning mind makes of it.

now i'm even more curious than ever before.

dead worlds seed new, living ones, time and time again.

she's proven what others refuse to admit about the nature of the universe and humanity.

it's hard to talk about it in words, you know?

your presence here has made this night so much brighter to me.

science tells us you can never truly know the future state of a particle.

perhaps control of the machinery is your real ambition.

i want something that doesn't exist.

there's a void inside of me, you, everyone. an endless abyss.

everyone has a black hole inside of 'em. what i want is for mine to stop eating everything up all the time.

you are really harshing my mellow, man.

yhe truth is much more complicated.

i can't tell you about an image you already have in your mind.

i saw his blood, i saw his tears.

oh, a test where i have to do cocaine? finally, a test i can pass.

it's not as if you've never done this before.

it made me nostalgic for things that never happened.

you brought me all the way out here to show me a fucking rock?

did you not hear anything we just said right now?

THE MURMURING.

birds carry our souls, our beliefs, our hopes.

but that word...that word also suggests a voice, a whisper, a prayer uttered in the dark when we think we have lost it all.

pop me in a room with a stack of books, and I'm happy.

who wouldn't want to lift off and fly away from the world like that sometimes?

if there is a god, he certainly is a very cruel one.

i'll check, you go back to bed.

what are you doing here in the gloom?

what are you reading?

they sound different. more melancholy.

you haven't had any sleep. you're very tired.

it might help if you tell me what i'm meant to be listening for.

you get that crease, just there, when you're trying to solve a mystery.

this is beautiful. but when i look at it, all i feel is sad.

she must have felt very trapped here.

is it so wrong to read a dead person's letters?

and how do you know they're dead?

god forbid i should feel something.

the minute some people step into a falling-down old house, they start seeing ghosts.

you haven't cried at all. not since...everything happened.

people say they see things here, but it's just a morbid fascination with other people's misery.

how am i ever supposed to help you if you never tell me anything?

why is it always about me? you went through this too, [name].

i feel lost. i feel...angry. i feel completely heartbroken.

i try and i try, and i just feel you slipping away.

take my hand. you won't be alone or cold anymore.

i've been so lost.

[joulethieves]

ryugoro; nsfw, timeskip

a/n: i have a very large ryugoroverse in my brain i am slowly, slowly chipping away at. they began as hatefuckbuddies in canon-verse, all thanks to a game of truth or dare. things...escalate, de-escalate, and dissipate from there.

twelve years pass.

this takes place in a post-game timeskip. akechi is 30, ryuji is 29. they're fuckbuddies again (with akechi being in complete denial that ryuji is, most likely, his actual boyfriend at this point). powerbottom akechi enjoyers, this one's for you.

----------

“Is it something you can confirm with absolute certainty?”

“I have every reason to believe he’s  the man we’ve been searching for.”

Goro sits hunched over his desk, sifting through files and folders mostly to just busy his hands. He doesn’t need to reference them when the evidence is this burned into the back of his eyelids like the wake of glaring headlights.

The voice over the other line of his ‘work phone’ goes silent for a long moment, but this isn’tsual for Him. Chances are, he was sifting through his own end of files too. 

It’s been weeks of research. The late nights and early mornings wear heavy on the bags under Goro's eyes, and he’s picked up his pesky on-and-off-again smoking habit again. 

He can stop anytime. When he wants. He just doesn’t want to, right now. That could be said about a few things in his life -- notably, the reason his personal cellphone screen flashed bright on his desk with a fresh notification: 

SAKAMOTO  New Message

Goro's gaze lingers on the home screen. He’s admittedly left Ryuji on read for weeks aside from the terse, “Busy with work for a while. Don’t expect to hear from me for a bit.”

He's been feeling that self-same itch for Ryuji akin to a cigarette. Weeks without that blissful, distracting, maddening release has left Goro wanting to strike the match and take another long, long drag. It’s just, unlike an occasional cigarette, the thing with Ryuji Sakamoto is that Goro can’t just have a one and done. Lately, he’s been wanting more, the frequency of his desire unnerving him. He's known for a while that a step back was in order. Work just so happened to present a perfect opportunity to ghost the temptation of a man creeping into corners of Goro's mind he's been far too alone in, for far too long.

He's become a hell of a distraction, and Goro needs to focus, dammit. 

Before he can even reach for his phone to turn it off, another notification lights up the screen.

SAKAMOTO Video Message

Goro's hand freezes over the Off button. If he had any sense at all, he’d press it and get on with the task at hand. 

(If he had any sense at all, he'd never have this number in his phone to begin with.)

SAKAMOTO New Text Message Christ. Is he okay? 

Maybe he's not okay.

No…if he's not okay he’d call.

No. If he's not okay, he’d call someone else, surely.

Someone who hasn’t mostly left his mundane texts and memes on read for weeks aside from the occasional ‘like’ reaction. Someone who hasn't made him chew on the bare minimum for the better part of half a month.

“Do you think we should strike tonight, then.”

The voice over the work line is more a statement than a question. Goro watches the screen of his cellphone fade to black, and looks away.

“There’s no point in dragging it out,” he said, more to himself than anyone, but it suits as an answer regardless.

“Hmmm.” Another long silence, the sound of typing in the distant background of his colleague. Goro knows Him enough by now to predict he’ll be silent for another minute or two…

The phone lights up again.

SAKAMOTO New Photo Message

Relentless. The fuck is he texing Goro at this hour? He glances at the clock; Ryuji is typically at the gym by now.  

A creeping sense of what exactly waits for him beyond a simple input of his password lit up an aching, viscous curiosity. It seeps through the cracks of Akechi's resolve like tar. 

What on earth--

 Goro draws his passcode pattern on with all the annoyance of swiping away a gnat. This had better be fucking good, Sakamoto.

The first message greets him:

SAKAMOTO Thinking of you, baby. Feelin some kinda way after today’s sesh. Wanna release some steam… waddya say 

Followed by...what the hell is that.

The thumbnail of the video was something completely undeniable: Ryuji, seated on what appeared to be a locker room bench. His phone was pointed at a mirror, where Goro could see his  legs spread enough to palm between them to grab–

The thumbnail mocks him, the PLAY button perfectly blocking exactly what Ryuji means to tempt him with. Goro freezes. 

This is a new low. Getting desperate for attention, was he? With all the debauchery that they share in the bedroom, it usually stayed just there: the bedroom. It never occurred to Goro to stoop to this; sexting was for teenagers and playboys, of which he was neither. Nor has he ever received anything so crass. No one has ever had the audacity.

Which can often be said of everything before Ryuji Sakamoto. 

“The supplies,” the voice over the line pulls Goro from the glaring thumbnail of Ryuji’s hand over his clothed cock, “we’ll need a different array for this.”

“Affirmative,” Goro replies, hand fumbling over his files on his desk with purpose this time. That's one thing he needs them for: there are addresses they need to hit for this specific array that were unlike their usual arsenal.

“Let me know where to go. I’ll get what we need if it’s northside of Kichijoji. We’re running out of time if we want to make it there by midnight.”

“I have all the locations identified. Give me a moment.”

Fuck. Where is it? His hands skim along the folders haphazardly strewn about his desk, and, exasperated, he picks up his cellphone to move out of the fucking way – when his thumb grazes the very Play button mocking him.

The picture comes to life and Goro's hand freezes, eyes pulled to the screen in a kind of horrified curiosity a weaker man could only compare to watching a train wreck.

Ryuji, dressed in a white sleeveless shirt, pulls up the hem to hold in his mouth. The whites of his teeth tease the fabric in a grin, and with his free hand he trails his fingers down past his pierced nipples further south, running over sweat-moistened abs. They're on full display after whatever workout he just did, and the crude angle of the gym lighting casts them in defined highlights and shadows. But he doesn't linger, his touch trailing past the waistband of his red gym shorts where he crudely grabs a handful of cock. There is no denying the fullness  his hand closes around, the outline of it a filthy testament to how hard he is.

The camera in his hand shifts, revealing a sliver of his face. He must think he looks good like this, on display like a pornhub amateur, teasing his cock in a locker room where anyone could come in and see him touching himself through his clothes. That boner is anything but subtle.

Goro doesn't realize his mouth is hanging open until the voice over the line of his "work" phone cuts through the other receiver. “Crow.”

“A moment, I said,” Goro blinks rapidly, coming to life and flipping through a folder in hand while the video on his cellphone continues to play. How fucking long is it?

The video–the video. He is intimately familiar enough with exactly the toy Ryuji is currently flaunting on camera like a slutted up jock twit.

Goro's hand stutters over paper and plastic. This has to be the folder – it better be. The addresses his colleague over the phone was requesting are embedded in otherwise nonsensical code, lest it fall into unsavory hands.

Well – hands any more unsavory than his own; he’s finding it consistently hard to keep them clean these days. Funny how that keeps happening.

His eyes scan the code furiously to ensure it has the correct coordinates for tonight’s target. Yes, surely it was this file. He remembers writing the code. He remembers hiding the first address within lines 72 and 73. He remembers how good it felt to stretch his jaw over that inviting hot length and deepthroating Ryuji until he whined–

When the fuck did  he start  looking at the video again.  Why the fuck was Ryuji taking his cock out in the locker room, pulling his shorts down over the shaft just to tease the first few inches of the base, the tension of the fabric fighting against the hardness there.

Fuck. Sakamoto isn't bluffing; He is riled up. His flushed body, glistening with sweat, muscles alight and rippling with the excitement of his own display of indecency – in this moment  he is the worst thing to ever happen to Goro Akechi, and given his entire track record, that is far too devastating of a title to give to someone this stupid.

“Crow.”

“Yes.” It is all Goro can say, swallowing dryly. Fuck. Right. The code. 72 and 73. Lines seventy tw–

“You’re distracted.” The statement makes his blood run cold. There is no way he knows. There is no way Goro has been that obvious—no. There is no way he is distracted.

“I wasn–”

“Call me back when you can give me your full, undivided attention. This is not idle chatter.”

“I told y–”

The sharp click of the receiver, followed immediately by the droning hum of a dead line, makes Goro freeze. The sound fills the room, uninterrupted, as he watches the seemingly endless video of Ryuji teasing himself finally end; in reality, it was barely thirty seconds of thirst trap footage. Goro stares at the frozen thumbnail, seized by something caught between lust and rage; again, something only Sakamoto can conjure up unknowingly. 

Fucking shithead. Needy mongrel who thinks only with his cock, blowing up his phone like a juvenile fuckwad when Goro was on the cusp of an infiltration that is still far too foggy for his own liking. When he reaches towards his cellphone, his hand is shaking. 

That’s right. That wasn’t all Ryuji spammed him with. Under the video, another message.

SAKAMOTO: So fuckin hard right now Wanna be inside you, fuckk. Call me

Beneath the prolific message written with all the coherency of a neanderthal typing with his cockhead, an unsolicited fucking dick pic burns its way into his retinas. Something feral and furious possesses Goro, the drone of the dead line from his work phone blending into the hot  static of his thoughts. 

He smashes the name SAKAMOTO with his thumb, and whips the phone to his ear.

Ryuji doesn’t even let the first ring finish before he picks up. 

Goro doesn’t even let him say hello.

“Here’s what you’re going to do, you juvenile cumbrained jock-twit. You’re going to meet me at the hotel at  4 Chome-31-1. You’re going to get there immediately, and you’re going to text me the room number, and you’re going to wait for me like the dog you are, or you can go home to jerk off onto your stomach alone like a parody of yourself who can’t finish what he starts. Understood?”

The only sound Goro hears aside from his own furious heartbeat is, still, the hum of the other phone’s dead line left forgotten on his desk. Ryuji huffs over the other end, letting out some sigh between his teeth like the starting hiss of a radiator.

“Oh. Fuck yeah.”

Goro hangs up. He memorizes the code between lines 72 and 73. He recites it six, eight, ten times as he puts on his coat, heads downstairs, stands outside.  He waves down a cab.  When Ryuji texts him “413,” halfway into the ride, he memorizes that too, and doesn’t bother to respond.

[jaggedwolf]

pll rewatch 2x08

JENNA CAN’T HEAR US, SHE’S BLIND

A classic PLL line that has been memed on endlessly, and yet I’ve only just realized - is what Hanna means that even if Jenna hears their stomping, Jenna won’t be able to see that it’s them because duh, she’s blind?

Does Jenna have a kink for making out next to windows? I think her rape-by-blackmail vid with Toby was also taken near a window

Emily has terrible situp form. Is she even exercising her abs. She’s also making the terrible choice to do them the morning of the meet

I’m concerned Emily doesn’t have any friends on the swim team to discuss training regimens with :/ 

You know who I bet knows things about training regimens? Paige.

Hanna fussing over Emily’s overtraining is cute. Less cute is Emily witnessing Tom and Ashley’s morning after, this is the most family drama she’s experienced outside of her own coming out

In my notes I wrote “Wren is gross” and it doesn’t even matter what scene this is about

Mike’s friend who bothers him in school...I think he’s genuinely concerned about Mike, it’s just filtered through terrible teenage bro levels of self-expression (asking Mike if he’s going to be a crackhead next)

Aria lies to Ezra about the confrontation she had with Jenna in ceramics class and never told him about the Mike burglary shenanigans

On one hand, she doesn’t want to mention Jason to Ezra, on the other hand she is the most secretive of the liars

As a naturally secretive person myself I’m inclined to defend this behaviour

Emily’s so stressed she gives herself an ulcer. Her little “when can I swim again” :( :( :( 

Fun fact: Ulcers aren’t really caused by stress but by bacteria, though of course stress is not great for the immune system overall

Spencer is so cute when she’s defensive of Emily who has an ulcer, Do Not Scare Her Hanna! I love that when Aria shows up with a coffee Emily silently looks at Spencer to give the explanation.

Thus we can conclude the other three’s reactions to learning about Emily

Hanna: Stopped by her Mom’s workplace to borrow her car to go to the hospital, googled ulcers out of mild curiosity and went WAIT IT’S A HOLE IN YOUR STOMACH? THAT’S WHAT AN ULCER IS? A HOLE?  SPENCER A HOLE??? 

Spencer: Already knew what an ulcer is but re-reviewed to know what Emily can or cannot consume and to provide Reassuring Facts on ulcer healing.

Aria: Does not know what an ulcer is and does not care to find out, does know Emily’s favorite coffee order and wants to give her a nice treat. Foiled by biology :/ 

Spencer is so funny when she interrogates Hanna on her Caleb sitch while they’re in the elevator. “Where else are you gonna go?” Guess Hanna has to answer her.

Ashley telling Tom to fuck off. Hell yeah!! Maybe tell him to talk to Hanna first

We see more of Jenna & Garrett Evilly Plotting than I remember, I’ll want to compare this to later Evil Plotting scenes from other characters 

Emily gets hit with the second punch of steroid use. She is so scared and stressed about this :/ It is well-crafted emotional torture by A - to have first made Emily a liar and then a cheater, when Emily is the girl who cares most about fair play, whose mom stated back in S1 that her daughter was raised to earn everything she’s gotten

And all of it is in circumstances where no one would believe Emily telling the truth

Did the ulcer save Emily from getting kicked off the swimming team...

Mike seems to be actually doing his homework when Ella knocks on his door, which is a note I like

OK when Haleb is in Spencer’s family cabin, why is Caleb the one making the fire and Hanna the one to not know what kindling is? The camping scene last season had Hanna be the one with outdoor survival skills and Caleb clueless, I don’t like this arbitrary swap

All of Caleb’s shady shit happened in Allentown. I have memories of a fic where the backstory was Caleb & Paige being absolute disasters in Allentown and I wonder if the author chose that location because of this mention or just because, you know, it’s a place in PA

Was this whole plot so Haleb could get laid? Maybe a little bit

Wayne Fields is the one good father, he does not want Emily to stress about college and paying for it. Well sir please investigate your finances and military benefits

Emily wants to bail to Texas, Spencer appeals to her sense of justice in finding Ali’s killer. The limit to Spencer’s desire to protect her people, perhaps - she doesn’t want to be left alone

Hanna is really upset at Ashley saying she doesn’t want to get back with Tom, because that makes Hanna the sucker that is the only Marin who wants things back the way they were

2x08 is six weeks before the wedding. Enjoy fitting that into the timeline. 

While Emily is alone and depressed in her hospital bed in her very shitty situation, Spencer pops up to go “Hey Em, wanna read through our dead friend’s autopsy report with me? Look at this X-ray of blunt force trauma to her skull.”

Emily does look at it, I ponder if Emily and Spencer were partners in bio class and they realize page 5 is missing. Oh no! 

I have literally no memory of this plot point, would simply like to note that when Hanna asks “How can one page just disappear” I went yeah PLL I have that question too

You know Hanna is really broken up about her dad because she and Caleb literally sit on the curb while staring at the happy family. Do you think the parents of that family are going hey why is that teenage couple staring at us?