#just thought you might want to see them static too

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 10

READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS!

-This chapter is very heavy, but we’ll get you home, yeah?  -I’ve never written an action scene and action isn’t really my strong suit, so be kind please.  -So many military inconsistencies and just overall incorrect military vocabulary. I’m sorry. 

tw: hostage situation, torture, sensory deprivation, sexual harassment/abuse, battlefield type elements (ie: explosions, gunfire, little bit of murder)

Food was deposited in your cell again and while you were concerned with being poisoned, you were also starving and would be unable to fight back if you didn’t get some calories into your stomach. You ate the packaged items as you stared at the hot pasta, the granola bar turning to dust in your mouth as you grabbed the water and chugged down half of it. 

You didn’t stop counting though. When you reached 190,000, two days had passed since you’d been taken. You restarted at one, using your finger to drag through the grime on the wall and create another tally just above the top of the cot. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, able to see large shapes. 

Until they opened the door again and blinded you. 

Despite never being able to find him before, Moses’ compound was easy to locate. Well, the one in the UK anyways. Of course, it was a trap and the 141 knew this. It was too obvious. But the issue was in finding where they were keeping you and what the actual trap was. 

Another video dinged on the laptop, immediately garnering everyone’s attention as they huddled around the small screen. 

The lens was dirty, being wiped clean by Moses’ sleeve. As he backed away with a wicked smile and a small knife dangling from his fingers, he revealed you behind him and your current situation. Tied to a chair, cloth in your mouth and tied around your head. That wasn’t what had the team concerned. It was the rivulets of blood that trailed from the clean, shallow cut across the front of your throat. 

“You boys better hurry up. I might decide that I prefer her dead. She does look so pretty covered in her own blood.” Moses came to stand behind you, lifting your head and pulling your hair back from the wound on your neck. “Do you think they’ll come to save you, precious? I think they will. Too bad they won’t make it.” Your eyes opened wide as you found the camera, shaking your head in a panic. In your mind, if you died, they would move on. But you couldn’t bear the thought of a world without them in it. Then the screen cut to black. 

“Fuck, he’s going to kill her just to get under our skin,” Johnny anquishly moaned out, his fingers pulling at the cropped mohawk on his head. Simon’s fingers slid over the other man’s, gripping them tight in his fist and pulling them away from the delicate hair. “We’ll find her and we’ll end this,” Simon grunted, looking down at the sergeant. 

“Alright boys, let’s get our girl back.” 

The slice to your throat stung, burning as your blood now dribbled from the wound as it dried up. You’d expected to be sent back to your cell, but was instead taken to another room. Two women stood in the back, holding garments of clothing and medical supplies as you were shoved into the room and the door locked behind you. 

They were silent as they cleaned you up, getting a bandage on your throat and unzipping your pretty dress just to shove you into a scratchy beige shirt and black cargo pants. Ones that matched every other person you’d seen in this camp. They wanted you to blend in, harder to find that way, you supposed.  

When the door opened again, it was Moses. Leering at you as he came to circle your weak body, hand on his chin with the other on his elbow as he inspected you. “You clean up so nicely, my dear. Though I will miss that pretty dress of yours, made these look oh so delectable,” his words only cut through the static in your head when his hands groped your breasts from behind. Your elbow then met his ribs only for his fist to come down on the back of your neck and force you to your knees.

“Little bitch thinks she can fight,” your captor growled, lifting your chin just to let his fist collide with your temple. Two more hits to the side of the face and you finally crumpled on the ground as he dusted off his pants and made for the door. “Leave her here. She can die with her beloved boys,” he commanded the other women, who scurried behind him as he sneered down at you before slamming and locking the door. 

At least, you could see where you were now as you started counting again.

The sky was dark, not a star in sight as the clouds covered them with their looming grayness. Coming up from the back of the compound, they split into three groups; Price with Johnny, Simon with Kyle, and the third team of specialists to extract Moses. It was quiet and they were silent as they took down the scattered guards. 

With the path cleared, Ghost and Kyle slipped into the darkness where intel told them the cells were. Price and Johnny disappeared into another building that could possibly be holding you, while the third team slipped out into the darkness in search of Moses. 

That’s when the first boom rocked the earth. “Bravo-6, do you copy?” Simon’s hushed whispers filled the silence of the cell they were standing in. “Soap, the hell was that?” Price’s voice cut through the static of their radios. “Detonation. He’s going to blow the compound with us in it.” 

Another boom rocked the ceiling and then the entrance to the cells collapsed with Simon and Kyle inside. Coms were suddenly cut as the building Price and Johnny were in shuddered with another boom. 

You felt it too and were suddenly very much aware that you needed to get up and try to get out. You tried the door, tugging on it but of course, it was locked. You started banging on it when the next boom came and you wondered how many buildings had been taken out already as the one you were in shuddered and a wall blew out next to you. Taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself, you scurried out the hole the explosion created and headed for the stairs, taking two at a time. 

Price and Johnny were working through the levels, clearing the building as smatterings of people ran past them. Innocents. Civilians that Moses had kidnapped to fill the compound. All dressed in scratchy beige and black cargo. In your hurry to get out of the building, you ran smack into Price who grunted, staring down at the apparent civilian that had tried to plow through him. 

“Please don’t hurt me!” You cried, covering your face and cowering on the landing. But the pain never came. Just arms wrapping around you and lifting you to your feet. Fingers and a thumb pinched your chin, lifting your face to meet the man’s eyes you ran into. “They really did a number on you, little bird. Let’s get you home, yeah?” Price’s eyes burned into yours and you couldn’t help the sob that tore from you as you nodded in response. If you’d not literally run into him, you’d have been lost in the sea of civilians trying to find safety.

Getting back to the extraction point had been difficult. An explosion blasted apart a building the three of you were next to and unfortunately for you, you’d been in the path of a rather large piece of wall that knocked you out. When Price, Johnny, and your unconscious body met only Kyle at the extraction point, you were left in the care of Laswell who waited in the helicopter.

Meanwhile, Simon and Kyle were digging themselves out of the cells. The explosions that had followed the one that caved in the entrance had created a small hole big enough for Kyle to get through, but Simon, the massive man he was, wouldn’t fit without making it bigger. So Kyle dug from the outside and Simon from the inside. Finally, when it was big enough, Simon started to haul himself through the hole, only for another explosion to collapse it around him.

God, this is so not the story I'd intended to write, but this is where the muse led me.

Thank you to everyone who keeps supporting this series!

[illiana-mystery]

Gamache Touched-Up Photo Stills, Pt. 2

[a-hazbin-reader]

Gods I just have the funniest idea ever!

Can you do where Alastor will just do the most demonic, cannibalistic and brutal things ever (that even Lucifer was convinced that this mf CANNOT be redeem) but wifey was just sighing, heart eyes and goes 'isn't he the most adorable 🥰'

YES-

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Murder, Cannibalism

Description: ☝️⬆️

A lot of people tend to forget that you're ALSO in hell for a reason, assuming you to be Alastor's loving wife and not thinking beyond that

They forget that you love all of your husband, even his twisted side that scares everyone else

Maybe they somehow missed the days you tenderly wiped blood of his face after a particularly large meal of demons who got in his way

"You really should be more mindful of the mess you're making, hiding this lovely face with all this blood."

"Apologies, darling~"

Or the way you would sigh happily whenever the radio static in his voice would intensify due to anger

"He's so cute when he's angry~"

They were probably too busy staring at his humongous demon form to notice how you practically swooned and got weak in the knees at the sight

"Oh honey~ In public~?"

Nobody except Husker, who has been with you two long enough to know just how fucked up you are

Somehow, nobody at the hotel seems to notice any of these signs until Husk points it out to them

"How did that creepy fucker even pull Y/N anyways? There's no way that bitch is actually into his mess!"

Charlie is trying to shut Angel up before either you or your husband hear him, Vaggie nodding in agreement with Angel

Until Husk slams back a shot and points you, innocently reading and sitting in Alastor's lap

"What the fuck? Have any of you actually been using your eyes!? She fucking loves the shit he pulls!"

Everyone's whips their heads around to look at you in surprise, you only laugh and play with the ends of your husband's hair

Alastor's head does a full turn as he gives them a smug grin as he accepts a small kiss on the cheek from you

"What can I say? I'm just irresistible~"

They all start to pay closs attention to your relationship with Alastor after that, especially when he being particularly monstrous

And of course, Husk was fucking right

Alastor is squeezing some guy to death with a tentacle? You're fanning yourself from the balcony with your hand

"Isn't he just the most handsome man you've ever seen? Is it hot out here? I feel like it's hot out here..!"

"...sure, doll..."

You miss the way Angel scoots away from you and hides behind Vaggie

He's dangling another poor soul over his mouth and cackling at that sound of their terror? Suddenly, everyone sees the kiss you blow his way and the wink he gives you

"Remember to chew, darling~! I don't want you to get a stomachache from that lowlife!"

"Darling, you're embarrassing me..!"

Charlie is torn between being horrified and thinking that you two are the cutest couple ever

Alastor decapitates the next one and brings you the head as a gift? You're blushing and holding it like he just gave you a precious bouquet of flowers

"Oh, Alastor, aren't you just the most man romantic in hell~"

"I thought you might enjoy it~"

He looks so pleased with himself, leaning in to accept a gracious kiss on the cheek from his beloved wife

Vaggie is just so visibly shocked, looking at Husk in disbelief, the bartender simply rolling his eyes

"I told you, she's just as fucked up in the head as he is."

They all watch in shock as Alastor picks you up and carries you inside, the sound of your delighted giggling haunting them

Enjoy~

[gay-dorito-dust]

How about a bill x reader comforting him about his insecurities after having drank too much O'Sadleys? Bill talks about everything that bothers him being almost 100% honest about his emotions and the reader is like 😦. Baffled. Doesn't know how to respond.

You knew bill wasn’t in the right state of mind when you awoke yourself to the feeling of being watched at 3am, only to see a triangular silhouette with stringy arms and legs dangling from it like wet spaghetti noodles, his one eye was half lidded at though it was too much of a bother to open it fully as his top hat was slightly slanted.

‘Bill?’ You asked, trying to blink away the sleep and look at him properly. ‘It’s three am what are you doing here?’

Bill sniffles before hiccuping as he floats over to you, resting himself against your chest as his little hands grabbed at your nightshirt. ‘Tell it to me straight meat sack? I’m a shit friend aren’t I?’ Before you could say anything in response, bill continued. ‘I put venomous snakes in your bath when you ignore me, fire breaking chicken with dragon feet in your room when I want your attention, but not too much attention that I think about turning you into a gold statue so that I can keep you in my sights forever and ever to fill the fact that I don’t want to be alone again.’

He then looks at you with his watery eye, rubbing at it as he hiccups again. ‘Why do you think I have the henchmaniacs? I need to constantly be with someone or a group of them to get what I want, attention because I’ve been devoid of it for too long…that or to ignore that tv static inside my head that kept asking me why did I do it on repeat that it might as well have driven me mad.’

You felt as though you needed to be pinched in the moment because it was obvious that Bill wasn’t in the right state of mind, but he looked so vulnerable and pathetic that you couldn’t help but feel the smallest bit of sympathy for the guy, despite knowing how his ‘pranks’ can be from firsthand experience. You still have the scars to prove it whenever Bill denies ever doing so, and when you do show him he just waves it off as you being clumsy.

‘Bill go to sleep, we’ll talk about this in the morning.’ You tried to close your eyes but the feeling of being looked was too strong to ignore and the moment you opened your eyes again, Bill was hovering over your face and extremely close for comfort. Wait? Was his mascara running?

‘You agree with them too don’t you! I’m a one eyed freak who destroyed his home and thought that through terrorising people and making them submit to my will would ever make them like me enough to care!’ Bill cried as he hugged your face, hiccuping once again. ‘I say that I don’t need anybody when I’m actually I need someone, anyone to care about little old selfish me while expecting nothing in return! Is that too much to ask!’ He adds as he cries hysterically, his smudged mascara now smudged across your face as he nuzzles himself against you.

You awkwardly pat Bill on his back as he continued to weep, feeling a slight pan in your chest but questioning whether this is was just another prank of his, or just him being himself for once in your presence. ‘There there, I’m sure not everyone thinks that way of you..’ you trailed off as you tried to think of how you could approach this situation without risking the chance of death or becoming a golden statue for him to keep forever.

‘Really?!’ Bill says as his eye grow wide when he pulls away from you to look you into the eye. ‘You really mean that? You really, really mean that!’

You saw the childlike hopefulness in Bill’s eye and can’t help but sigh as you gently patted his hands that was holding onto your face in desperation. ‘Yes I really mean it bill, the past will only define you if you let it define you. You’ve done some…questionable stuff but I’m certain you’ll soon see yourself as a person, triangle, demon that you can be proud of.’ You finished off awkwardly as you tried your best to offer some solid advice that’ll appease him while hoping to live another day.

Bill sniffled, wiping the tears from his one eye. Or was it salvia? You didn’t know and didn’t want to care if you wanted to keep your sanity. ‘You’re my only true friend y/n.’ He admitted softly, fidgeting his bow tie and top hat before pulling it off his head. ‘You remember how I told you my home dimension was destroyed?’

Yes you remembered, he told you this information once upon a time and it was something that was hard to forget because how could you live through life knowing you were the last of your own kind without breaking down? Bill then reached into his hat and pulls out a small, barely visible atom that glowed like a star. ‘This is the last of it.’ He adds sombrely and you couldn’t help but feel gobsmacked that he was even showing you this that you couldn’t say anything other than.

‘I bet your home was beautiful.’

‘It’s hard to appreciate it when you’re born with a birth defect and having to bear the curse of being able to see into the 3rd dimension.’ Bill mumbled, nuzzling himself into your neck. ‘I got ridiculed by my peers but my mom would always tell me that she’d love me even with my one eye…sharp edges and all…’ bill trails off weakly as he pushed himself further again your neck to leech off of your warmth.

‘Oh bill.’ You said barely above a whisper as you allowed him to find comfort in your neck. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t be meat sack, you’re the only one who cares to listen anyways…I know you won’t betray me, you’re a true friend to me…or as close to one as I’ll ever get.’ Bill confessed as he felt himself fall asleep. ‘So thank you for that, you’re not so bad for a meat sack.’

While Bill fell asleep, you remained up all night wondering where or not he’ll remember this all in the morning or just down right deny that it ever happened in the first place, but just for now you’ll allow yourself to lap up Bill’s vulnerability and rest your hand on his back comfortingly as he slept peacefully. ‘You’re not so bad for a triangle dream demon either Bill, you’ll always have a home with me, or at least a safe space to be yourself with me.’ You said aloud to no one in particular before falling asleep yourself.

[0oolookitsme]

Baby, We're Fireproof

Yes bestie, you are on the right blog and yes, I did write some angst!! Hahaha hope you enjoy!

Verse - Singer!Harry x CEO!Y/n

Word Count - 2.1k

Warnings - some insane making-out at the end ;)

Harry has been writing an album, and while Y/n wants to go easy on him, she just can't adjust to his absence and the fact that he has abandoned their relationship. But Harry is quick to realise his fault and remind her that they're fireproof.

In the quiet of the night, Y/n found herself tangled in a web of thoughts, questioning her feelings curled up into a ball on the huge bed.

Harry was yet again, not home. It had been a week since he started coming home later and later. He said it was because he was very close to finishing his new album, and Y/n wasn't quite sure if he realised that whatever he was doing out there, was beginning to put a strain on their relationship.

She wanted to be mature and let him be, knowing his profession was way different from hers. But the question, 'would he have adjusted like this, for this long?' plagued her thoughts.

The corners of her eyes were moist, and she only felt smaller and smaller as the night rolled on. It was pouring outside and even though the balcony was closed, Y/n could still hear the noise, and it only made her more aware of the static silence looming in the house right now.

She wanted to stop thinking so much, knowing that she was going to reach conclusions even she wouldn't believe herself in her right mind. But when she closed her eyes, sleep didn't come and when she opened them, Harry still wasn't sliding into the bed, next to her.

But she must've dozed off amidst her misery because she woke up the next morning with Harry's body tangled with hers, with his head in the crook of her neck, one arm under her head while the other one remained draped across her stomach and his legs twisted like ivy around hers.

She was sweating profusely. So, she got right up and lowered the AC's temperature so that Harry wouldn't wake up drenched like her. Surprisingly, there was no sleep in her eyes. She felt as awake as she'd been in the early hours of the morning.

Climbing down the stairs with nothing going on inside her head, she got herself a hot glass of water with some added lemon juice and went to sit on the sofa in the living room showcasing the sunrise.

Her shoulders were tense, eyes dry and unmoving. She knew there was going to be an argument between the two of them when he'd wake up. But that's okay, because they truly needed to talk this out before things went spiralling a little too far.

She was ready to sort this out and get the tension over with, but she still had that nagging feeling that he might leave the house without bidding her goodbye, leaving behind a mere note mentioning that he loved her and would miss her in the studio, while she'd be in the shower, preparing herself to sit and talk to him.

But that wasn't going to happen today -- she wouldn't let it.

Soft pads of footsteps perked her ears up, but she didn't turn to see him. She just knew that he was rubbing his eye with a knuckle, something that she'd want to disapprove of him for and he would make the faces at her that she found ridiculously funny and had grown to love.

But then she felt warm hands press against her eyelids, closing them and a mouth breathing near the nape of her neck.

"Why are you sitting down here, hm?" He spoke rather quietly, as if not wanting to disturb the peaceful silence. But the rasp in his voice definitely punctured it.

"I think we need to talk," softly, she held his hands and lowered them so they sat intertwined with hers, upon her collarbones. "Please," she whispered, her tone begging him to listen to her and not distract her.

But he was seemingly working well because her eyelids were still shut.

"Well, we can after I have some cuddles with you," he pushed the topic under the rug, knowing that once they'd be done, the both of them would probably be running late.

"No, H," Y/n said sternly, eyes flying open as she pulled on his arm for him to come in front of her and sit. She didn't say much when he just sat on the coffee table in front, opening her legs and putting his closed ones in the space between.

"Say," he said, his eyes set on hers with a nonchalant expression, but Y/n could read the tension in every flexed muscle of his arm and the tightness in his set jaw.

Y/n took a deep breath then. The only thing easing her nerves was the earnest look in his eyes, like he was willing to sit and actually sort this out.

"Don't you think that we haven't really been spending any time together, as of lately?" She spoke just as slowly as her breathing was.

He only nodded at that, albeit little tensely, urging her on.

"I feel that that has been putting a strain on our relationship."

He was still for a couple seconds, or maybe minutes, Y/n wasn't sure.

"I feel the same, babe, I truly do feel the same."

Y/n sensed a but coming, so she didn't speak.

"But I can't really help it, not for a while," he sighed, and Y/n's gaze lost the softness that had been glazing her eyes.

"You're writing an album, and I'm willing to understand how tough and exhausting that must be, but you can't just abandon us for that," she spoke with nods and shakes of her head, her voice rising a level higher.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"I've really been trying to be easy and not go on biting at you for not spending each breath of yours beside me, and it should've been easy but it's not because," she stopped to take a breath, one that shuddered. "Because you used to do that, and now you're suddenly not and I'm sorry that I haven't adjusted to it as quickly as you have!" Her brows rose, adding to her words like she was trying her all to make him see the point.

"And I understand if that's too much to ask from you right now, but at least speak with me or spend some time with me because this is a relationship, Harry!" She wanted to stand up and to pace around, but his hands were on her knees, and she didn't want that loss of contact.

Taking a breath to calm herself a little, she crossed her fingers with his again. "It's like we're mere roommates," she began, looking into his tired eyes, noticing his dark circles for the first time.

She didn't even know when they'd first appeared.

"I didn't realise that," he took a breath as if it was suddenly hard for him to speak. "I didn't realise that, that - that's what I'd been doing," with slumped shoulders, he lowered his gaze.

"But I -- you didn't put in any extra effort, either," he insisted, shrugging his shoulders. "You could've visited me at the studio or asked me to stay for a while longer or - or, I don't know!" He finished frustratedly, flailing his arms.

"Oh?" She said before thinking, then took a long breath. "Alright, I agree that I should've done that. That this isn't a one sided thing since it takes two hands to clap," -- she slumped back, crossing her legs -- "but wasn't it you who left while I was bathing, not even bothering to bid me goodbye for the day? Or to send a text mentioning that you were going to be late or that you were ordering food in the studio itself?" She almost suggested.

"I'm sorry about that, I wasn't thinking straight," he said clearly, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb.

"So why did you begin kissing me and fucking me every time that I tried to bring up the issue?" She said, maybe a bit more roughly that she'd intended.

"I wasn't doing it to shut you down, the hell?" He looked as if she'd accused him of robbery. "It was just mere coincidence! Yes, I should've stopped when you began to talk but you fell into me as well, didn't you?" He was standing up now, a frown settled deep between his ungroomed brows.

"I missed you every second I spent away from you, it was you who I was thinking about constantly so pardon me if I was exhausted out of my mind and wanted to spend some time with you!"

Y/n gaze was the guilty one now. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," she accepted, her throat too dry for her to gulp.

"I just, I can't believe you'd think so low of me," he sighed. "But it's alright, okay? I know we were both frustrated and not thinking straight," he sat back down and held her hands again.

With his thumb and index finger, he softly gripped her chin to coax her eyes into meeting his. 

"Forgive me? I promise I will never write songs about you again," his frown turned into a grin, and he leaned in to hold her gaze when she broke a smile that melted into laughter.

"I hate you," she mumbled, moving to sit in his lap with her arms wrapped around his shoulders, uncaring about the risk of the coffee table holding their weight unsuccessfully.

"Yeah, I forgive you as well," he chuckled, pressing a chaste kiss upon the lobe of her ear.

"Just, don't forget me," she sighed, wrapping her legs around his waist when he picked her up.

"I really made you think a lot of things, didn't I?" He spoke like he was apologising. "I'm really sorry, love."

He was carrying her up the stairs when she pulled away from the nape of his neck to look at him. "I'm sorry too," she said genuinely, holding his gaze.

"It's okay," he whispered, opening the door to their bedroom by pushing against it with his back before he pushed her onto the bed, climbing in after her and bringing with him the blanket which he wrapped the both of them in, holding her tight against him before he whisked himself away to hold his phone.

"Let's take today off, but don't forget to bring in fresh ideas, tomorrow then!" He said into the recorder and sent the voice message, sliding his phone in his bedside drawer then and lying back down, facing Y/n.

They stared at each other for a little, before Harry broke a smile, making one crack on Y/n's mouth as well. “Baby, we’re fireproof,” he said, smugly grinning, and making her laugh. 

"Kiss me, you fool," she gritted with a scrunched nose, grinning widely until Harry hurried to seal their mouths together, the force causing her to move her head back a bit. 

His scent suddenly filled all of her senses, him being all that she could see, feel, hear, and smell. The same vanilla scent with a light hint of some cinnamon and some woody scent that she’d been missing so terribly.  

His tongue fought against hers until she gave up and he finally had the full access to her mouth. His breath hot against her skin bringing tingles under her skin, and making blood rush to her cheeks and fireworks erupt inside of her. 

Backing away to catch his breath, Harry let out a hoarse chuckle when she came forward in the chase of his lips, causing their noses to smush. Licking his lips, he looked at her mouth for a second too long, seeing a kiss she always let him steal. Cupping the back of her head, he pushed her mouth to his’, relishing in the feeling of just how down bad he felt for her. 

Slowly, he pushed her until her back was flush against the mattress and he was hovering above her, his dainty necklace resting on her neck as he claimed her mouth again, his palms slipping under his shirt that she’d been wearing and making their way around her body without much hesitation due to the map of her body inscribed among the lines on them. 

Her back arched off the bed, pressing her abdomen against his’ while his knee parted her thighs to press up against her core. And as she slumped down into the mattress, the friction between her legs had her swaying her hips for more. 

His hands grazed around her abdomen and stomach, caressing her back before he realised that she didn’t have a bra on. Groaning into her mouth, he pulled back to catch his breath. 

Still heaving, a smirk pulled the right corner of his mouth upwards. 

“Look at you, getting mad at me just because I was writing too many songs about you in the studio,” he teased, and before he could’ve taken another breath, his eyes rolled back as she pulled on the curls near the nape of his neck, and pushed him right back to her mouth once a breath or two had filled their lungs. 

[stuckinapril]

how to feel like a person?

digital detox. if your phone was taken away, how much free time would you have? how empty would your day be? do you have things to do outside of scrolling endlessly on different apps? if you come to the realization that a lot of your time consists of being glued to your screen, you need to start considering incorporating no-phone time blocks into your day. a big part of our daily misery boils down to consuming so many things in 24 hours, to the point that we feel too burned out to do anything else that truly nourishes our body and soul.

establish a routine. discipline is so important for happiness. start out small—schedule your day, get consistent with your skincare routine, take daily walks—and then gradually add more and more things. don’t try to revamp your life all at once. that’s a surefire way to quit altogether. be realistic about your limits, but also push yourself where appropriate so you don’t stay static.

journal. mentalize your feelings. don’t suppress your emotions. be curious about your thought processes and what makes you tick. always be self-compassionate, but hold yourself accountable where it’s due.

start pursuing hobbies. make a list of all the things that interest you and try them out. there are so many things out out there; one of them is bound to stick. don’t go into it with the negative mindset that you know you wouldn’t like doing x and y. some things you might know in your heart are not for you, but don’t rule out possibilities you’re ambivalent about. be open-minded and see finding your interests not as a chore, but as an exciting prospect.

practice gratitude. this is such a popular advice bc it works. start off your day by listing 3 things you’re grateful for. it’s crazy how so many people don’t realize it’s a blessing to just be alive, when so many people get robbed of their lives so early on. i’m not saying to never shoot for more, but having a foundation of contentment goes a very long way.

have a solid set of friends, but march your own march. you don’t need anybody; you just want them. same thing with friends. friends are good for us because we are a social species, but if one person were to leave your life, it’s not the end of the world. your life is already colorful, filled with so many things you’re doing for yourself—furthering your career, improving on your skills, working on your fitness—that a person leaving shouldn’t be detrimental. never be so dependent on someone you can’t envision a life without them. you need to make your life exciting on your own; you can’t have someone else doing all the heavy lifting for you.

have an abundance mindset. if one thing fails, that just leaves room for something better to take its place. you are always bound to find better. there are 8 billion people in this world. there are countless different possibilities. failure or loss does not mean it’s game over for you.

see pain as a learning experience. true growth spurts do truly come from heartbreak or failure. it teaches us to pick ourselves back up and try again. always have a growth mindset. that relationship didn’t work out? now you know what to avoid for the next relationship. you’re single again? now you get to focus on and learn more about yourself. that friendship ended? at least you won’t waste any more time on someone who doesn’t value having you in their life. you didn’t get that job? that leaves the door open for other possibilities. you didn’t get the score you wanted? now you know what to work on to do better next time.

action-directed things to improve your self-esteem. you can sit in your room all day and tell yourself you’re the best thing since sliced bread and everyone’s obsessed with you, but truly building up your self-esteem comes not only from thinking positive things about yourself, but also acting on them. work on things you care about. work on yourself as a person. love who you are, but also strive for self-improvement. do things that can act as proof—to you—for why you’re worthy. it’s a game changer.

dispense of the victim-of-life mentality. it’s safe to dwell in your misery and keep blaming things on factors out of your control, but where would that get you? it’s just resulting in you expending your energy needlessly. stop seeing life as jumping from tragedy to tragedy. actively fight against your negativity bias. recognize that for every bad thing that happens, 100 good things happen, but we as humans have a tendency of focusing only on the negatives. sort through your emotions, make peace with what happened, but pick yourself up and move on. the most valuable thing we all have on this planet is time. it’s limited and it will come to an end eventually. you don’t want to look back and resent yourself for not simply letting go of things and appreciating what you have around you.

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes ch 10

masterpost

“Why are you so cheerful?” Damian narrowed his eyes up at Dick, as if he could possibly intimidate his elder brother. “And why are you still here? Return to Bloodhaven at once, where someone might desire your presence.” He dropped his phone on the bench with a clack and roughly pulled his sweatshirt over his head. His hair floofed up after it, trailing with static electricity. 

Wow, someone was still holding a grudge over him spilling the beans about the elementary school art show. Why so cranky? Cass and Stephanie hadn’t done anything embarrassing, they’d just come with him and said that it was nice. Damian had done this family portrait thing where no one had eyes or hands. It was avante garde or something. Dick didn’t really get it, but the technical proficiency was really impressive.

Dick bounced on his heels a bit as he got his gloves on. He felt his hair bounce with the movement. He felt extremely light and breezy. “Because you would miss me,” he teased.

Damian grunted and looked away. He yanked open his locker and pretended that he was the only one in the changing room as he pulled off his pajama pants and started to wiggle into the Robin uniform. The leg armor squeaked as he forced it up and into place. 

Quiet footsteps padded into the room. Dick caught sight of Timmy in his locker mirror.

‘He will definitely be up for fucking with Jason and his date a little.’

“There is a little something going on tonight,” Dick said, faux casually. He cracked his neck and then started going through the double check of all the fastenings of his uniform and basic equipment. “Remember earlier, when Duke sent that odd message?”

Damian grunted.

“Well, I looked into it, and-”

“Holy shit, Jason is calling out of patrol tonight in the group chat.” Stephanie’s voice trailed faintly over the divider between the locker rooms. “Do you see this shit, Nicki Minaj?”

Dick blinked. “Nicki Min-” 

That apparently meant Tim, who lunged for his phone and unlocked it. He stared in disbelief for a moment. “Is he allowed to do that?” he asked. He scrunched his face up, clearly disturbed.

‘Makes sense, but does that mean I’m going to be chasing Jason, not Red Hood?’ Dick crinkled up his nose and thought about it. Probably not? He didn’t want to give anyone the impression that Jason’s civilian ID was being hunted by law enforcement. Jay probably just didn’t want Dick to be able to track him down too easily. Fair enough. 5 of them on patrol was quite honestly a lot more than Gotham needed on an average night.

Damian snorted. “Don’t be absurd,” he sneered. “We are all entitled to a certain number of rest days per week. Have you forgotten the holistic wellness powerpoint presentation so easily, you despicable fool?”

“Shut up, nerd.” Tim held his phone in Damian’s face.

Damian stared at it without blinking for a long few seconds. “...I was not aware this was a genre of action of which he was capable.” He looked incredibly troubled.

The expression wiped off of Dick’s face.

‘What did that little shit do?’

“Maybe it’s a sick mind game?” Stephanie suggested, voice lifting in question.

Dick yanked his locker open and dug his phone out. He unlocked it in a blur of motion, already scowling. 

Jay had sent a picture to the birdchat with a selfie of him and a man who must be Danny, the dead guy on the other end of the sacrifice contract. They were leaning together over a dinner table. Jay was cheesing for the camera, a glint in his eye that said he knew he was being a little shit. Danny looked kinda dazed, which probably meant he wasn’t quite wild enough for their life. Dick nearly felt a tinge of guilt about tagging him into their rivalry, but hey, it was just a friendly game.

The accompanying message was, “Can’t patrol tonight, I’m spending time with the boyfriend. Stay safe, losers and Steph.”

Dick huffed. He slammed his locker shut. Fine. So, he didn’t get to share the exciting news! That was fine. That was fair, even. Jay should get to launch his own relationship. It was just kinda-

Wait. He scrambled to open the locker again and looked at the selfie again. 

He knew the wall behind them. It was an Italian place where Jay laundered money from the sale of imported Dutch narcotics. 

‘They have to still be there,’ he realized, mind running through the minutes since he had confirmed with Babs via camera that the two were at the planetarium. He grinned like the Grinch and rushed out. “Bye, see you out there,” he called over his shoulder to the locker room and snatched up his helmet. He had already changed, after all! No need to wait around for the slowpokes and the old man who still wasn’t even coming down the Bat staircase yet.

Nightwing flung himself onto his motorcycle and tore off into the night. He crossed the bridge into Gotham, a flash of blue reflected off the choppy water below. It felt like minutes until he kicked out the stand for his bike and dismounted, clicking the protective tech on without stopping for a minute. He took the rickety, rust-red stairs up the outside of the building and slithered in the stairwell.

He wasn’t an amateur. He knew that Jay knew what he’d done. He was expecting Dick to come here. But that didn’t mean Dick couldn’t gain ground. Jay might still be here. Dick crept out into the restaurant through the kitchen, ducking out of sight from the line cook and bursting through the kitchen double doors in utter silence.

His gaze went unerringly to the table where the photo had been taken. A grim-faced waiter looked up, pristine white cloth in the process of wiping it down. “There’s a note for you,” he said. He indicated the receipt with a head tilt and finished his task, wiping down the salt shaker and other accoutrement.

Boo. Dick deflated. “Thank you,” he said. It was too much to expect for this to end first thing. Ah. He cheered up at the realization that this was better, actually. He was clearly only minutes behind them. The game wouldn’t be fun if it was too easy, after all. With that in mind he felt pretty chipper as he reached for the no doubt taunting note Jay would have left him on the back of the receipt. In his peripheral vision he noted the waiter picking up a short mop and running it over the floor under where Jay and Danny’s feet would have been.

…A riddle. They left him a riddle. “How does water fall onto a cranky little stormcloud?” Puzzled, he blinked. Uh, water going up? Something about condensation, about pipes, about… stormcloud? He crinkled his eyebrows and thought about Damian’s thunderous little face, chubby cheeks and all, positively sick with fury that Dick had betrayed him by attending his art show.

He had a bad feeling. He looked up. There, in the unfinished rafters, alien green eyes stared down at him predatorily from an inhumanly pale face. 

Dick froze. Jason’s boyfriend was clinging to the ceiling like goddamn Dracula climbing down the castle wall, one clawed hand wrapped around a rafter, feet braced against another in a way that made his limbs look just slightly too long and angular. The other hand was holding a bucket.

Fuck. Dick dodged in a roll and barely evaded the bulk of the splash zone.

“Loser!” Jason’s voice called out. 

Dick whipped his head over to see his brother grinning at him from the kitchen in a goddamn kitchen staff apron. “Bitch!” he said, appalled. Had he really walked past him without realizing it? No way. Just no way. He looked back up and jolted. 

Danny was gone. 

Fuck!

He looked back at the kitchen just in time to see Danny drape himself over Jason’s shoulder in a boneless way, flash a grin with teeth that were far too long, and then… and then. They both faded out of sight as Dick rushed the door. There was no hint as to where they had gone.

‘I should have gotten tactical information about Danny’s ghost abilities before I challenged them. This is on me, a little bit. I’ll have to have Babs take a look… No, not yet. They’re probably going around by one of Jason’s bikes, I can check on what’s missing and plug the license plate number into the auto search program.’’

“Excuse me.”

Disheartened, Dick blinked back at the waiter, who had already mopped up the water that Danny had dropped on him. He was impassively holding out another wet towel. 

”...Thank you,” Dick said, and dried his left shin off so he stopped leaving drips across the restaurant.

[nininikki]

delicates — s. gojo

content warnings: perv!gojo, fwb!gojo, panty-stealing, panty-sniffing, jerking off with said panties, increasingly mild jealousy, male masturbation

author’s note: some horny desperate gojo to perk those holiday spirits. love y’all 💋🫶🏽🤍

“satoru, have you seen my pink panties?”

he had barely gotten the phone up to his ear before nearly exclaiming, “your what?” through the dwindling cell phone static, gojo could hear the frantic zipping and unzipping of suitcases, opening and closing of drawers, and the stress in not only your breathing, but your question: have you seen my pink panties?

at the words, “pink panties”, bells begin to sound in satoru’s head. they’re tiny, lacy, and cotton candy pink almost all around, apart from the hem, which is decorated with a little white bow. the first time you’d worn them, they’d proved to be an issue for satoru’s restraint. much too pretty to ruin by tearing off your legs, but still a hindrance to him in the animal-like mood he was in. he could recall you gasping as he moved the thin material to the side so he could curl the tip of his tongue up against your clit for the first time of many that night.

“oh, nothing. forget i asked.” it was more than obvious you were stressing yourself to hell and back over the imminent (and very mandatory) conference trip to new orleans. it’s evident now, and it was more than evident about a week ago when you invited satoru over to your place with the intention of letting him ease the worry away. and he did, one salacious orgasm at a time.

crackly phone static sobers gojo instantly, and he’s back with you—present day you—and your current dilemma. “but, still,” he hears you defeatedly slump into the cushiony spring of your mattress. “where’d they go so fast?”

your new question makes him sit up in his bed. “well, uh,” gojo hardly stuttered, but you managed to catch him at an impossibly bad time. “when’d you see ‘em last?”

“they were in a stack of laundry on my dresser, i swear.” like magic, satoru’s mind conjures an image of what you might look like on the other end of the phone. lying across your bed, perhaps twirling a lock of hair up and down your finger or fidgeting with the golden initial necklace that always hung so delicately around your throat. he imagines a cartoonishly big question mark floating above your head as you work the plushness of your bottom lip between your teeth. the mental sight was a pretty one, albeit rather funny.

you resume your recant with, “then, just like that, poof! gone.” a sigh passed between your lips. “i mean, what am i gonna do now? i wanted to bring those with me.”

“those?” satoru hesitantly flicks his bedside lamp on now, hoping seeing will help him understand. “on a work trip?”

you sighed again, this time exasperated. “oh, please. it’s new orleans. did you think i was a nun or something?”

“whatever,” with a blink of his eyes, he tried to brush away the nagging, envious feeling that tugged at his navel and nearly led him to nausea, but it wasn’t at all that simple. “why’d you call me, anyway?” were you calling all your recent lovers and alerting them to be on the lookout for a pair of frilly pink underwear? the thought of it was funny only before satoru fully registered the idea of you having any other lover that was not him.

“well, i just thought that maybe…” your words trailed off in a way that indicated you’d lost them on purpose. your acrylics could be heard nervously clicking together on the other end.

gojo scoffs with the incredulity of a completely innocent man. “what, you think i’m the panty thief?” at the sound of air sucking between your teeth, and otherwise dreadful silence, he wants to roll his eyes. “i can’t believe you. you ever stop to think it was your freaky ass housekeeper?”

a sharp gasp crackles through the receiver. “rosmerta would never!”

“yeah, yeah. just call me when you think better of me.”

“then i guess i won’t be calling for a very long time.” you say, and a stiff dial tone fills gojo’s ears.

his conversation with you should’ve sobered him up completely. he should’ve been shamed into flicking his lamp off and falling asleep (even though he couldn’t if he wanted to). but hearing your voice only fueled his fire further. all day, your panties had burned a titillating hole in the top drawer of his dresser, and he’d had more than enough of denying himself.

when the sun sank beneath the clouds and it was finally dark enough to abate any oncoming feelings of guilt—although, there was a shamefully small amount of it—satoru had your pretty pink underwear splayed out over his lap, teasing it over the growing bulge in his pants.

he had felt like such a perv when he plucked them off your dresser’s tower of laundry and stashed them within his pocket. and he’d felt like even more of a perv when he kissed you out of your early morning slumber to tell you he was on the way out. “gotta go, baby. early shift today.” satoru whispered into your soft skin.

immediately, you’d attempted to rise from the comfort of your bed. “i’ll walk you out,” you yawned.

smoothing a hand over your cheek, satoru’s eyes softened at the sleepy tenderness in yours, and he’d wanted to collapse back into the mattress without a second thought. “no, you stay here and rest, alright.” but he simply could not bring himself to rest alongside you with such a dirty secret in his pocket.

and so now here he was, touching himself through his underwear like a virgin schoolboy as he brushed the fabric over his nose. the wholly clean scent of them couldn’t have stopped him from envisioning all the times you may have gotten them a mess with the slickness of your arousal.

you were wearing a dress that first time satoru had fucked you in these. and you weren’t shy at all about letting him bend you over the edge of your bed and push the skirt up over your hips. he was practically salivating at the sight: the thick globes of your ass on perfect display for his starving hands, and the damp plumpness of your cunt on perfect display for his starving mouth. thin ribbons of arousal had dripped their way down your labia and come to a head at the bulbous tip of your clit, while of course staining the almost transparent material in its wake.

the memory makes gojo abandon all efforts of teasing, and he’s letting his cock spring free from his underwear. he lets the angry mushroom tip graze against the crotch area of the thong, precisely where your slit would be. if he closed his eyes for long enough, he could imagine he was doing just that—rubbing himself up against your leaking slit until you were weak with pleas.

when his eyes flutter open the tiniest bit, he could see a fresh bead of precum dotting the material. “so good,” he murmured as he remembered how easily your chubby cunt swallowed up the fabric. your eyes, lidded and framed by fluffy lashes, sat teary and reddened in your head.

satoru had grown fond of how worked up you tended to get when teased. your manicured hands had cupped over the round peaks of your ass, spreading yourself apart with the hope of being filled. “please,” you had whimpered, and he couldn’t help himself at sight of your slick soaked lips virtually calling out to him. relief filled your eyes as he pushed the dainty cloth to the side, and then ran an impatient finger tantalizingly down your slit.

fresh saliva filled the underside of his mouth almost immediately, haunted by the memory of your slick bursting over his tongue in all the best and worst ways. there was no way gojo would be able to stomach the idea of another man peeling these off your skin just as he had that night. could he get you as loud for him as you were for satoru? could he tease the head of his cock over your hungry entrance until you were practically dying for it? could he spring your pretty eyes with tears after every thrust? gojo didn’t think so.

dampening the palm of his hand with a pearl of spit, gojo began sliding it up and down his length, murmuring small curses to himself as the picture of you bled through his mind. “so fuckin’ nasty.” he grunted when he remembered how you’d always time the movements of your hips perfectly to match his thrusts and fuck him back. “am i doin’ a good job, daddy?” you would look back at him and ask, smearing your juices over his pelvis with the increasingly weakening pushes of your hips.

“makin’ daddy so proud.” satoru hummed to himself, tightening his grip just over the head of his dick and imagining the very same hold your pussy seemed to have on him.

“i’m gonna cum,” you would tearfully whisper, just a split second before your body collapsed under the weight of the pleasure your lover was inflicting on you. usually immediately after, gojo’s release would follow upon him seeing the fervent manner in which your pussy spasmed around his cock as it drooled out thick rivulets of milky finish.

satoru felt himself twitch, inching closer and closer toward his own release as he teased the flimsy garment to and fro over his cock. but it just wasn’t enough.

in an act of utter desperation, or perhaps madness, he brought your panties up to his face and allowed his nose to brush up against the crotch. he was almost ashamed of the shiver that coursed down his spine. although the smell was relatively harmless, the mere idea of suffocating in you worked his nerves without relent.

“please,” gojo begged no one in particular. if he could, he would hold you against his face forever, smothering himself in the warmth of your skin until he was one with you. if he could, he would be en route to your apartment this instant to tell you the truth. “i love you.”

with a choked whimper that followed his untimely confession, satoru slipped over edge and into the blissful abyss of orgasm. the tugs on his cock became haphazard and sloppy with the gradual spurts of cum oozing from the head of his dick. it wasn’t until he opened his eyes and removed the rose colored panties from his face did he realize the gravity of what he had admitted. he loved you.

[nohaijiachi]

I got randomly recommended this video by YT and wrote a ginormous comment in response because I have no self control, apparently, so I thought I might as well also share my thoughts here in regard to whatever is going with THIS FUCKING SMILE

(under a cut to not clog y'alls dashboards)

(the first part of the comment here is a direct response to some of the ideas put forth in the video, it is very short so give it a quick watch for more context if you want)

Imo it's not necessary to look into overcomplicated theories that rely too much on off screen shenanigans to explain the smile, for how amusing the idea of them having swapped during the kiss is (like, the kind of stuff I won't want to be actually canon, but I'll be very happy to see explored in fan fics lol)

I think to fully explain that smile we have to take in consideration multiple factors:

This show is very purposeful in what it does and doesn't, well... show. That last shot is very long and I think the fact that Aziraphale's and Crowley's expressions in the aftermath of their disastrous break up is shown in such a manner tells us a LOT about the state of mind they might be at the start of S3, and the obstacles they'll have to face. Aziraphale doesn't immediately smile, rather he seems to look almost shell-shocked for most of the shot; it's clear (to me at least lol) that the quiet ride up the elevator is finally giving him some desperately needed time to fully digest everything that happened, because too much has happened in an extremely short amount of time, and we all know Aziraphale doesn't do well with speed lol.

But, for how much he can sometimes be a complete moron, he is smart, and all he needs are just those seconds of quiet to properly ponder on everything, on the choices made and the ramifications of said choices, and that's how we get to smile-- I'll delve into what I think Aziraphale is going through in his mind in more details later, because I also think it's necessary to focus a bit on Crowley's own expression, since the both of them are so intrinsically linked that the narrative cannot make sense without taking the both of them into account.

Crowley's expression is much more static and doesn't change the way Aziraphale's does; he looks profoundly tired in ways we've never seen him before. I don't think he's giving up on Aziraphale, and I fully believe the fact that he stood there and waited for Aziraphale to disappear in the elevator, the both of them sharing that last look, was a quiet message: He'll never give up on Aziraphale, he'll be there, waiting. But wait is all he can do for Aziraphale, now, because he can't follow where Aziraphale is going.

For how messy and full of heightened emotions the confession + kiss are, I think actually denying Aziraphale's request was a HUGE step forward for Crowley's character. He's never been able to deny Aziraphale, he always went back to him after every fight, and we all know how stupidly whipped for Aziraphale he is and how he'd empty the ocean with a spoon if Aziraphale asked him nicely-- But to actually put his foot down and say "no, I cannot do this for you" when asked to all but renounce the person he is now? Especially with how Aziraphale is all but begging him openly? That's a huge step, and something I think Crowley desperately needs to mature as a person (or, well, person-shaped being). We all love how Aziraphale has him wrapped around his little finger I'm sure, but we also all know that if they truly want to build a strong, healthy relationship they also both need to be able to keep their individuality and to put forth adequate boundaries about what they are willing to do for each other within reason.

Asking Crowley to come back to being an angel when he's made blatantly clear for six thousand bloody years how much he despises Heaven is not a 'within reason' request, innit?

So, yeah, for how heartbreaking the break-up was, in a sense Crowley needs it. They both do. They both need time apart to figure their own shit out, dismantle all those unhealthy habits they had to adopt in order to be with one another as safely as they possibly could while still 'employed', and then come back together with a clearer mind and a whole deal stronger than before, both as individuals and as a couple.

And I think how tired and downtrodden Crowley looks in that last shot is a precursor to this process, just as much as Aziraphale's smile is... So, let me get back to our favorite angel and what I personally think is going on with him.

I think to properly contextualize that smile we need to look at not just the happening of those infamous last fifteen minutes, but of S2 as a whole, and what Aziraphale does in it.

So, what is Aziraphale doing during S2?

At the start he seems to be more or less comfortably settled in his current life; he's as happy as ever doing what he's always done, enjoying humanity's creativity with his books and his music and his food and drinks, seemingly content to be puttering about in his bookshop (which is a stark contrast with Crowley's homelessness and his kinda adrift and depressed attitude). Of course then Jim!Gabriel throws a wrench right into that, but imo I think there was a lot more going on behind the facade of Aziraphale's well ingrained habits.

Sure, he still has all of his familiar comforts and his routine, but from the moment we see him interact with Crowley I saw a deep restlessness emerge in him: The panicked look he launches Crowley when Nina asks him about his 'naked man friend', the way he speaks with Crowley with all those 'our' he uses, the blatant way he keeps reaching over and touching Crowley-- To me that suggests that Aziraphale is clearly not as happy as he seems to be on a superficial glance. He clearly wants more with Crowley, wants to bring their relationship to the next step, but because the both of them are so deeply entrenched in their unhealthy coping mechanisms and habits and their inability to openly communicate it doesn't even occur to Aziraphale to just... You know. Take the first step, actually say something about it. So he just keeps throwing bait after bait in the water, hoping Crowley will bite and be the one taking the initiative as he's always done, finally allowing Aziraphale to accept said initiative, this time around.

Of course, we all see that Crowley doesn't take any first step, which is probably something deeply frustrating for Aziraphale at a subconscious level. That's how we get the ball; sure, on the face of it it was Aziraphale's way to make Nina and Maggie fall in love, but... Was it, really? Let's be real, for how entirely believable it is that Aziraphale makes up the lie about Nina and Maggie's love to cover for their miracle is, since we've seen him being anxious around other angels, I don't think for a second that had Aziraphale just stopped and spent three minutes thinking about it he wouldn't have found a way to convince Muriel that Nina and Maggie were, in fact, in love, especially with how 'green' Muriel is about humans.

I fully believe that Aziraphale is not properly thinking during S2, period. He's frustrated by his inability to bring his and Crowley's relationship to what he wants it to be, and that frustration and single-minded objective is utterly obfuscating his thought process. There are plenty of moments he seemed almost manic, imo, which I read as another sign about his 'impaired' (allow me the term) state of mind as of S2.

So, yes, the ball: On the face of it something to actually turn his lie to the Archangels into truth, but deeper down, perhaps almost unconsciously, I think Aziraphale sees the ball as a way to finally make him and Crowley happen. That fact that he's taking pointers about romance from human literature is blatant, and obviously he truly does believe the ball will be THE way to make love bloom.

If you stop and think about it, the ball scene is terrifying. These people are being manipulated to play the perfect background parts to make, what is in Aziraphale's mind, the height of romance atmosphere happen. The fact we get a juxtaposition with Nina's "what the F is going on, am I losing my mind???" rightful attitude underlines this. And I truly believe Aziraphale isn't exerting said manipulation with intent, but rather doing so subconsciously, because he's just so fixated on the idea of having finally the perfect set-up to have Crowley as he desires that he is influencing everything around him. After all, we all know they both have the tendency of making things happen the way they want simply by thinking that's how things are supposed to happen.

And again, he's so manic and giddy when he asks Crowley to dance, his ass is not LISTENING. He literally needed a brick thrown through a window to snap out of it.

So, in the present we have an Aziraphale who , in his own way, is trying to take the initiative, come out with plans. There is a moment that I think might have slipped under the radar of a lot of people but that's frightfully important about who Aziraphale is at this point in the story, and who he will need to become: "I have a plan," Aziraphale said to Crowley during the stare down with the demons outside of the bookshop after the ruined ball; Crowley didn't even seem to have registered that sentence at all, because his mind is already projected forward and going a mile a minute about what to do to keep both the humans and Aziraphale safe in this situation.

Crowley, who loves to swoop in and save Aziraphale, doing what he's always done to keep his angel safe, even to the detriment of their relationship with one another... And Aziraphale, who adores playing the part of the damsel in distress in turn, is actually telling Crowley that *he has a plan*.

That's not something to take lightly, methinks. That's very much just another sign that Aziraphale's individuality is struggling, trying to emerge through Aziraphale's anxiety and doubts and fears and deeply ingrained habits. Aziraphale's cognitive dissonance in regards to heaven, and his shaken faith in God are huge motivators of his actions, and in the grand scheme of things the scant few years he had away from under the oppressive thumb of heaven is nothing. It was barely any time at all in the face of the eternity of an immortal life spent under that oppression, and yet we are already seeing little glimpses of Aziraphale's rebellious side struggling to get fully free.

I think these little glimpses inform us at great lengths about the evolution Aziraphale's character will go through in S3, and greatly explains that strange smile right at the end; in my opinion that smile isn't the smile of someone who's trying to convince himself that he's ok, or realizing that Crowley loves him (he knew already, they both knew and have known for a long time, their inability to properly express those feelings was their downfall, but I don't think either of them has doubted even for a second when it comes to how much they love one another). In my opinion that smile is the smile of someone who is steeling himself for what he envisions in his future; equal parts old-sedated anxiety and yet determination to actually enact plans he's surely concocting in his brilliant little mind. That's the smile of someone who has just realized that not only they can, but that they need to do something, and you can damn well be sure they won't be sitting and twiddling their thumbs waiting to be saved, but they'll be the one saving themselves and everybody else along with 'em, this time.

Just as Crowley needs to actually spend some time define himself as himself, and not just in relation to Aziraphale, Aziraphale needs to spend some time shedding all those fears and doubts that are weighing him down, and emerge the other side someone much more self-assured and ready to do what he thinks is right without all the hesitations that have indirectly been strengthened by Crowley; in a way, by allowing Aziraphale an out with his 'temptations', Crowley had been feeding into those hesitations, and had been holding Aziraphale back from fully maturing, even if not done on purpose, obviously. Imo is very important for Aziraphale's character that he comes to realize that he doesn't need those excuses Crowley gifted him to keep doing what he thinks is right, that he actualizes his own morality properly, and enacts on it.

I don't have the faintest clue about what is going to happen in S3, but I do fully believe the above paragraph is what Aziraphale and Crowley's respective character arcs will focus on. And once they'll come back together they'll be the most power couple that has ever power coupl-ed, and the Metatron will have no clue about what is about to hit him >:)

[thewertsearch]

Resolution to the summoner's mutiny is foggy, as I only understand what has 8een rel8ed to me through the 8rief answers I thought to solicit. Ultim8ely, the ire of the Condesce would 8e such that in the settling dust of the conflict, she would 8anish all from the homeworld, except the young. […] I cannot imagine how she would come to enforce such an upheaval in our civiliz8tion. Though I suppose she will have on her side the advantage of an unparalleled lifespan, and the leverage extended 8y the hideous psychic prongs of her deep undul8ing monstrosity.

Attention is drawn to the prodigiously long lifespan of the Condesce - the empress of Mindfang's time, and Feferi's probable ancestor. I used to think that the modern Empress was a different troll, but now that we're aware of fuchsiablood longevity, I'm pretty sure the two are one and the same.

Based on a line from Feferi's introduction, I was assuming that she was the only fuchsiablood in the universe - but let's take another look at the way that line's phrased.

You are 'the only of your kind' known to possess this blood.

That doesn't necessarily mean she's the only fuchsia troll, does it? For example, it might just mean she's the only Alternian with fuchsia blood, because the Empress doesn't actually live on the planet.

I really want this to be Mama Peixes, because the existence of a living Ancestor has so much story potential. Just how much does she know, and what's her agenda?

Nevertheless, I take the prediction as truth, and find it amusing that a homeworld domin8ed 8y children will 8e the gr8 summoner's legacy. One of them, at least.

Anyway, the Summoner - the boy who could fly - is the reason Alternia is a planetary Neverland, making it clear that he was the original inspiration for Pupa Pan.

It's also notable that we've only just started delving into Alternian history, and we've already learned about two massive rebellions against the social order. Contrary to what Alternians have been led to believe, this oppressive culture clearly isn't natural to them, and they've been fighting it every step of the way.

They don't want to be a murderous empire - they're forced to be, again and again and again.

More importantly, and less amusingly, his legacy will 8e my demise. You see, I first learned his name when I asked who would 8e the one to kill me.

And here's yet another layer to the Quest Cocoon Incident. Vriska wasn't content with living like Mindfang - she wanted to die like her, too.

Given that Vriska knew about the Summoner, one can only imagine how weird she must have been around Tavros. Not only was she constantly berating him, she was also putting him on this bizarre pedestal, comparing him to someone I'm damn sure he never knew existed.

And she'd never tell Tavros about the Summoner, either, because that would allow him to derive confidence from something other than her tutelage. No - she just silently compared him to a legendary hero, and he constantly failed a test he didn't know he was taking.

Seems like something's going very wrong in the Veil.

This seems like a sign that the session is on its last legs, and we're running out of time before it completely turns to static. We're entering the endgame.

The oracle I will resolve to part with. I will conceal it in a crypt 8earing the sign of the expatr8, with a map to its loc8tion hidden in this journal.

The cueball was sequestered in an Expatriate chest, which makes me speculate about whether Equius ever got his hands on it.

He can't see inside it himself - but like Mindfang said, it shouldn't be too hard to find a technological workaround, and Equius is a roboticist. I wonder if either Zahhak ever used it for themselves?

To whomever finds it, 8e wary, for the truth it tells may leave its new keeper 8lind as I was. Though no more.

She warned you, Vriska.

She told you it would leave you as blind as she was.

And it did.

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— skeletons + sae itoshi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — sae doesn’t realise how much being away from home affects him, until he hears your voice again.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, angst, hurt no comfort, long-distance, established relationship, mentions of mental health, pro player!sae, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 2K.

⭑ notes — hi beautiful babies!! this is the first of a few fics i have queued for my week away. i wrote this a while ago and it’s based off of skeletons by keshi !! hope you like <3 - m.list ✩

in all honesty, sae itoshi doesn’t expect you to pick up. it’s way too late for you, just breaching the early house of the next morning in japan. there’s a seven hour difference between madrid and tokyo, sae knows because he’s looked it up a million times before anticipating a call or text from you. and right now, you’re probably sleeping, you’re supposed to have been sleeping.

but alas, your phone rings and you pick up on the third— voice groggy over the comforting crackle of static on the line. “h…hello?”  

for a moment, the older itoshi brother listens to you and your natural ambience. he notes your deep breathing, still recovering from the depths of sleep, and the slight whines you let out with your yawns as you stretch your stiff muscles. maybe it’s weird, but sae misses all of your sounds, he misses waking up next to them— curling his arm around your waist on nights you’d snuck over to his childhood home just to see him. 

“is anyone there?”

snapping out of it, sae clears his throat— fixing his voice as it sits hoarse in its base before he speaks. “it’s me, love.” 

“sae!” shifting from the sheets tells sae that you’re more awake now— alerted by the symphony of his voice over the shitty landline. “shouldn’t you be asleep by now?”

“could say the same for you, it’s four am over there.” he knows that he’s wrong, you’re seven hours ahead and it’s only ten pm for him — meaning it’ll be closer to five am where you are and sae itoshi is never wrong. he was born with impressive gut instinct and a quick mind but this time he’s wrong on purpose. he makes a mistake because he wants to stall for time, keep you talking a little longer and hear your voice for a few minutes more…because maybe that’ll keep the demons away.

keep his head floating above the water he seems to have fallen in. 

sae is drowning in his dreams, and if he reaches out he can’t touch them— to him, the greatest of all time…they’re unattainable.

“five actually, and my alarm is meant to go off soon. i thought you were it and then i saw your contact…” you manage to say through a yawn, rubbing your eye’s unbeknownst to your boyfriend since he’s halfway across the globe. if he could see, if he was there—he’d probably call you cute, wipe your eyes for you and force you back down to sleep. but he’s not here and he can’t see because there’s a distance between you that can only be fixed by grainy face times on your cells.

“i wanted to call.” the midfielder clarifies, cutting you off sharply but his words coat the inside of his mouth like cotton, as if they’re hard to say — melting over the line like rice paper on his tongue. 

“okay,” breathing slow, you hug your knees to your chest and let your silence tangle with the crackling static. “you don’t usually call first.” 

“i needed to hear your voice.” 

“i’m here. i miss you. do you want to switch to facetime?” sae has half a mind to tell you no. if you switch now, you’d worry— you’d see how hollow he’s become, how sleep deprivation eats at the pink tinge to his flesh and clings to the undersides of his dulling aquamarine eyes. you might think that he’s dying and perhaps he is. the pro player feels like he is. every day is harder, his bones feel heavier and his muscles weaker — he needs medicine. he needs you. 

you’re the only drug sae would ever inject into his veins— your smile, your laugh, your heart. they make him better, make him feel alive. so he relents, “gimme a sec, i’ll call you.” he grunts and taps the button to video-call, waiting for you to pick up again.

“there you are, handsome. tell me about your day.” blue light from the early  morning filters over your skin— the footage of the FaceTime call is grainy, probably because it’s still a little bit dark outside for you but you’re beautiful. to sae you’ve always been beautiful. 

the elder itoshi brother makes a small effort to smile at your compliment, the expression blooming on his cheeks which you mirror, happy to see him — he misses you too. “i don’t wanna talk about it. you do the talking. i just want to listen to you.” 

“alright well… i worked today— yesterday. sorry! timezones,” you miss the way sae winces at the mention of your time difference, the invisible divide between you both, as you settle back into your bed to admire him. “my shift sort of sucked, you know how it goes.” your boyfriend listens to you intently, makes faces at the complaints you make about customers, clients and coworkers alike. 

sometimes, the midfielder doesn’t understand you how you devote your life’s work, your beauty and intelligence to an industry that chews you up, spits you out like dirt and drives you to the edge of falling to pieces. sae doesn’t doubt you, he knows that you’re talented and wishes you saw the same value in yourself that he did. 

you deserve better. so much better.

perhaps he’s the same as you, working for someone else until he breaks and he’s better than everyone else— all in the name of becoming the best in the world.

“you hate your job. quit. i earn enough money to take care of you.” 

“and you hate yours. but you won’t come home where i can take care of you.” 

sae rolls his eyes at your quip because of how easy it is for you to read him despite the way he hides his emotions behind a clay mask. he’s always been like that, but he feels the need to tuck away the uglier parts from him even more of late— even if you’ve seen it all before. the late nights where he’s feeling sad and goes to bed, sae wakes up feeling even worse. especially without you but even now with your face on a screen, beaming at him the same way you have all your life— he doesn’t feel any better.

you’re meant to be his solace. 

quickly changing the subject, sae nods his head as if to push you in a different conversational direction. “tell me about what you did after work.” 

you hesitate, peering into his ocean eyes for a split second. “i went to see rin at blue lock. he’s…he’s doing really well, you know. you should come see him sometime. you’d be proud of how far he’s come since we were little.” 

it’s not that he doesn’t care about his younger brother, but the relationship between rin and sae itoshi is probably long past any attempts at repair. you’ve been stuck in the middle for as long as you’ve known them— pulling them close despite the boys repelling each other like polar magnets. 

you were the glue when they were kids, keeping the three of you together and to this day you still tried to manage the gap between the two brothers, despite their disputes. their differences.“can we please not talk about that half-ass piece of—“ you glare over the phone from across the globe and sae silences himself, pursing his lips to avoid scrutiny from the love of his life. you.

“you know, you never told me what happened when you first came home from Spain.” you blurt after a moment's quiet. “but i think i’ve always sorta known.”

“yeah?” the magenta haired midfielder challenges, brushing a hand over his tired face.

“yeah…” nodding subtly, you shift and roll onto your side— a solemn expression dancing across your features. “you changed. you hurt him, sae, real bad. rin changed too.” you say hoarsely, as if the words you’ve uttered burn at the insides of your throat like bitter liquor. “you’ve not shown that same fate to me, you know better than to lash out at me. but you’re different. you don’t smile anymore. not with your eyes like you used to — i miss that.” i miss you. is what you really want to say. not just physically, but emotionally. you want your boyfriend back, not the empty shell of skin and bones you have now.  

even sae picks up on the hidden meaning behind your words— he doesn’t smile at you like he used to.

for once the eldest itoshi decides to be honest with you. he thinks to tell you how stressed out he is, how he’s scared his plan for this soccer thing might not even work out. he decides to be honest  in words that he knows best and not all the details because he doesn’t want you to break over him. 

“talk to me, itoshi.” you cut through his thoughts like a knife through butter.

“i’m afraid of myself, and i hate it.” 

“then come home, sae.” it’s a nice offer, a tempting bribe. to be home with you when sae knows that would be the closest thing to giving up. he knew you wouldn’t get it. you wouldn’t understand how much soccer meant to him but you can’t be blamed for that. the thing you love most in the world isn’t your career— it’s him. “come home and be with me.” 

your wish would be as selfish as his — you don’t want him to give up soccer for you and he doesn’t want to leave soccer to feel better with you like he knows he would. 

“i need to make it to the end of the season — i have to.” 

“sae, you’re tired. you look like a ghost.” 

“i don’t even know if i’m going to make it.” he snaps, desperate and pleading with you not to make this more difficult than it already is. “but if i don’t try. then all of this will be for nothing. my goals have changed, but i worked hard for this and i will get what i want.” he spits out as if there’s acid on his tongue, burning through the little solace of love you’ve tried to wrap him up in. sae runs a hand through his silken locks, sighing as he briefly looks away from your crumpled face on the screen. “so stop asking me to come home for you because i won’t. it’s not worth it. you’re not worth it.”

you gasp, tears flooding your eyes. you know he doesn’t mean it, or maybe he does — it’s been difficult to read sae recently, he’s slipping from your grasp like sand between your fingers and you just have to let him. another beat of silence echoes between you both — but neither of you make the effort to speak. sae doesn’t correct himself and you don’t force your hand to make him apologise.

you care enough for him not to make him fight— to make sae choose his own battles. you’d never ask him to pick soccer over you, because you know what his answer would be regardless… but that doesn’t mean it hurts you any less to watch him destroy himself for it and to lose the boy you grew up loving to a sport you may never understand.

though, that doesn’t stop you from lashing out and bearing  your own fangs either — if he was going to throw salt in your wounds, you could do that too.

“i have to go, itoshi. get some rest, you look like shit, but you that’s what you want, right? it’s worth it to you.”  

you hang up before he can say a word and sae can’t bring himself to message and apologise. because he knows that you’re right, you’re telling him to pick soccer because he can’t make that choice for himself. 

sae itoshi is a pro player now. he’s gotten what he’s always wanted — he’s achieving his dreams as the corpse of the man he once was. the one who loved you proper.

but that doesn’t matter anymore, whatever his team wants out of him they get. 

since his skeleton’s out for the taking. 

[selineram3421]

*whispering chant* Mermay, mermay, mermay!

Other Worldly

Part 4

Part 3

Alastor X Shy Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ selectively mute reader, italics= thoughts, cannibalism-Rosie and Alastor ⚠

They were still quiet.

Why were they still quiet?

Alastor was confused.

He gave them the option to speak normally, they could talk all they wanted after singing to him. So why wouldn't they?

One thing he forgot to take into account was that the mer was a quiet one, and only spoke out of necessity. Sure, they had spoken to Charlie. Giving the Princess and the others quite the surprise, but they hadn't spoken to him.

It's been a month.

Why not speak to me? I'm a wonderful conversationalist! We could talk for hours! He thought with an annoyed smile.

At the moment he was up in his radio tower, finishing up a broadcast and putting on some music. Muttering about how the siren must be too intimidated or too shy to speak to him.

What he didn't notice was his shadow leaving his side.

.

You paced back and forth in front of the Radio Demon's hotel door.

Can I go in? Am I allowed to? You kept asking yourself. I mean, it was the other half of the room that I'm allowed to use but I don't know if I can go in through the first half. You sighed. I should have just asked before coming here.

There was an odd rattling chuckle behind you and then you felt something pull you down.

"Whoa!", you yelped and looked down to find Alastor's shadow grinning. "What are you-!"

Everything went black as you were pulled into the darkness.

You closed your eyes out of instinct and held your breath, scared that something bad might happen. There was the sinking feeling in your stomach as you felt the shadow drag you somewhere before everything just stopped.

Then you heard the wind rustle the leaves, feeling it brush across your cheeks. Peeking an eye open, you saw that you were where you wanted to be.

The fireflies were out and blinking their lights, a few landing on the tall grass nearby the wooden dock that went out a few feet in the water. You heard the shadow make another noise and turned around to find them behind you.

"Thank you.", you smiled at them and started to take off your shoes.

The shadow tilted its head at you. confused until you started to take off your pants.

It hissed and turned away.

"Sorry! Sorry, forgot you were there.", you apologized but continued to take off the bottom half of your clothes. "Last time I fell in water, my pants ripped and those were my favorite.", you explained. "Maybe I should just wear long skirts or something."

With the bottom half taken care of, you left your shirt on and jumped into the water, laughing as you made a big splash. The feeling of your legs turning into a fin felt comfortable, you just hated when you had to get your legs back. Lifting your tail fin up, you started to push yourself closer to the middle of the water.

Then you noticed the shadow in the water, moving like a snake to get to your side.

"What are you doing?", you asked but just let the shadow swim around you in the water.

Closing your eyes, you decided just to stay put and float. An activity that you haven't done in a long while since dying.

A minute to relax couldn't hurt.

.

Alastor noticed his shadow was missing after it didn't appear when he tried to call for it.

How odd.. Where is that rascal? He thought and got up to search for it.

Feeling the static from his shadow, he found that it lead to his hotel room. It's not odd but usually the shadow stuck near him and followed orders. Something had its attention.

As quietly as he could, the deer demon opened the door. A quick glance, nothing was out of the ordinary, so he walked in and closed the door behind himself. Following the static, he found his shadow went deep into the bayou.

Let's see what you've got now. He thought before making his way through the brush.

The Radio Demon made a list of ideas of what his shadow could be doing. Messing around with one of the crocodiles, hunting one of the little creatures, or something entirely different that he hasn't seen it do already.

That's when he found the dock, spotting his shadow with a sleeping mer.

"Well this explains it.", he crossed his arms. "I suppose I don't really need your help, though it would make it easier if I did have it."

All his shadow did was make a rumbling pur.

"Yes, yes. You're comfortable but don't make this a habit.", he waved it off and turned to face away from the water. "I'll leave them in your care.", he said before leaving.

As he made his way over to Cannibal Town, he thought of getting something for his little mer.

Perhaps I can make them a little safe haven to get them more comfortable... Yes, that should work.

The bell of the emporium door rang as he stepped through and greeted his friend.

"Rosie! How lovely it is to see you!", he said with a genuine smile.

"Alastor! Where have you been? Honestly, after hearing about that little fish, I thought you'd give me a clue on what happened next.", the black eyed woman walked over and linked arms with the man in red, guiding him over to her office.

"I do apologize but I have good news!", he said as they both entered the office.

It was a familiar sight for him, the pink-ish wallpaper and the plush cushions on the couches. A few plate platters with snacks on the coffee table, tea, and eating utensils. Quite the relaxing room.

"Well don't keep me in suspense.", Rosie released his arm and took off her hat, setting it aside before sitting on one of the couches. "Would you like a snack? I've got some cut up thigh meat."

"Sounds lovely, don't mind if I do.", he sat on the couch across from her. "Now, for what you've been asking."

"Go on.", she said, getting the plate of thigh meat on the coffee table.

"I finally got the little mer to make a deal with me but the only problem is that I don't own their soul."

"And why not? You'd never make a deal unless you got something worthwhile out of it.", Rosie asked.

"Ha! I've got all that I wanted at the moment.", he grinned. "I've got half of their powers and get to listen to them sing.", his smile widened. "Now all I have to do is make them more comfortable until they give their soul to me willingly."

"Alastor, I hope you're not doing anything to hurt the poor thing.", Rosie placed a fork on the table and took her own to stab into the thigh meat. "Quiet one like that should be taken care of."

"Of course not!", he said to ease his friend's worries. "Which leads me to what I wanted to ask."

Alastor picks up the fork on the table and stabs it through a big slice.

"Do you have anything that would catch a siren's eye?"

*lying in bed, sick* Mermay, Mermay, Mermay!

~Seline, the person.

Part 5

Taglist@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @scary-noodlesblog @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @repentant-repeller @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @carino-rata @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @glowinggoldfish0 @tiredgamerhere @fluffy-koalala @valenfawkes @willowshadenox @aria-tempest @alastor-simp @nonetheartist @gallantys @i-3at-kidz @luxky-aish @ceafighter @xalygatorx @xangel-8 @big-brother-problems @mspurpl3 @chewbrryarts @willowbrookhoot

@+ in the comments +

ML I Alastor🎙️ | OW🦀

[illiana-mystery]

Gamache Touched-Up Photo Stills, Pt. 1

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: thank you all for reading this one.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting 'part 2?' is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You grip the container of uneaten French toast as you make the interminable walk across the restaurant. It’s as if you can hear the death knell calling you to the scaffold. Sy follows behind you like a lion at hunt.

He reaches over your shoulder as he comes close and pushes the door open ahead of you. You step outside, stilling a jitter in your hands as your eyes blear in the sunlight. You’re all out of ideas. Your groceries are in his truck and the meal he bought you is in your hands. He’s entrapped you with sustenance.

His hand brushes your lower back as he ushers you towards his truck. You’re too terrified to speak. This is the moment where you give into fate. Your fear of saying no has finally done you in. Well, how long could you survive without a spine?

He pulls open the truck door and you feel his gaze on you. You can’t bring your own above his chest. His broad, muscular chest. He’s so strong and you’re so weak and oh god!

“You okay?” He asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Mhmm,” you hum and balance the container in one hand as you grab onto the door interior and haul yourself up. He puts a hand on your hip to steady you before you quickly swing into the seat.

He shuts the door gently and you shudder. You rest the container in your lap and pull the seat belt across your body. You buckle in as he gets on the driver’s side. You’re in a strange trance, helpless to the world around you as if you just watch it move around you. He says something and you nod again but you’re not sure what he said.

He pulls out, placing his hand on the headrest behind you as he cranes to see behind him. He straightens the wheel and settles into his seat. He flips on the radio, filling the static silence, though the music sounds far away.

As he steers onto the street and comes to the first corner, an epiphany chills you. He didn’t ask where you live. Either he’s not taking you home or he already knows.

You look back and forth, taking in all your surroundings. As he turns away from your building, you make note of streets and landmarks. You want to be able to remember them all as the former fear comes true. You’re not going home.

He is completely unbothered by his daylight abduction. You wonder if he’s done this before. He seems so sure of himself that you think he might have. Is he even really a soldier?

He rolls the wheel with his thumb and swerves into another lot. You look ahead at the marquee with paw prints stamped across it. A groomer?

“You wanna come in and meet her?” Sy’s voice breaks through the ice that’s encased you.

You look at him, still too stunned to really understand what’s going on. Her?

You say yes but it doesn’t feel like your voice is working. As he undoes his seat belt, you do the same. He’s smiling. He’s happy. Surely that means he won’t murder you. Not right away. He definitely wouldn’t bring you to a pet groomer to do so.

Unless it’s some cover-up. A shell of a business used to cover up misdeeds. Like the mafia. Oof, you watch a lot of television.

You get out parallel to him and meet him near the door. Again, he gallantly opens it ahead of you. You enter and he calls above you in greeting to the woman behind the counter.

“She ready?” He asks.

“She is,” she trills back, “and she was so good.”

“Mmm, yeah, good,” he approaches the counter and takes out his wallet, “she can be nippy.”

“She’s a darling.”

The woman calls back through the open doorway behind her before turning her attention to the till. She keys in to the system and Sy pays in bills. She accepts them and he tells her to keep the change. As weird as everything’s been about this morning, this is the most inexplicable part.

“Here she is,” another woman emerges from the back with a leash in her hands. You catch a glimpse of blonde hair before she comes around with a prancing German shepherd. 

“Aika,” Sy squats to greet the dog buoyantly, letting her sniff his beard before he stands again. Both turn to face you. You glance between them nervously. The dog nears you with a wiggle snout. “She likes you,” he assures.

You hold out an open palm and she smells it before scraping her tongue across it. He reaches to pet her roughly, shaking her fresh coat.

“You got the green out,” he says over his shoulder.

“Oh, we did,” the woman scoffs, “she looks amazing.”

“Well,” he wraps the leash around his hand, “we should head out. She’s restless.”

“Okay,” you babble dumbly and head for the door.

It’s your turn to hold it as you emerge and lodge your foot in front of the frame to keep the door open. Sy walks out proudly and Aika dutifully walks at his side to the truck. He opens the back and she hops in. You linger by the bumper before getting in yourself.

As he claims the driver seat, he gives a whistle through his teeth, “Aika, nose to yourself.”

You peek back as the dog retreats from your groceries. You almost forgot. 

“Right, let’s go home,” Sy declares, though you don’t know if he’s talking to you or the dog.

Home? Who’s home? His? 

If you could breathe, you’d be hyperventilating. Your head begins to pulse as he turns at the first lights. You inhale. He’s driving towards your apartment but that’s not any better than the alternative. That’s your home, not his. Perhaps he only means to drop you off before returning to his own.

You manage to eke out each breath, slow but enough to keep you from passing out. The streets grow more familiar and as he rolls onto yours, the tension only heightens. You’re not in the clear yet.

He drives into the lot and parks in a visitor spot. He turns off the engine. Shoot.

“Alright, what d’ya think works best? You grab Aika, I grab the groceries?” He suggests.

You just stare at him. What is happening? He doesn’t wait for a response before he gets out. You can’t give him one.

Numbly, you climb out of the truck and stand frozen on the tarmac with your breakfast in hand. He comes around and takes the end of Aika’s leash as she jumps down. He hands it to you.

“She’ll listen to ‘heel’ or ‘sit’,” he explains, “pretty much anything.”

You accept the looped end and wait as the dog patiently hovers beside you. Sy takes the grocery bags and spins on his heel. Confidently, without any hesitation, he marches towards your building. He has the certain type of staunch gait that assures you of his profession. You don’t think he lied about that.

You follow behind him, much less certain. Aika keeps at a pace, not tugging a single bit. She’s as obedient as he says. As you get to the door, you let the leash slip onto your wrist and fish out your keys. Are you really letting this mad man inside?

Yes, yes you are.

You take the elevator and just stare at the doors until they open. It puts you more on edge that Sy seems to know exactly where to go. Down the hall at the very end. Your key slides in much too easy again and you turn it as your last defense gives way.

You step aside and let him in. You watch him enter and just stare. You drop the leash as he goes into the kitchen to put down the bags. He comes back to you to remove his boots and shuts the door. He frightens you as he flicks the toe of your mary jane flats.

He reaches for Aika and unhooks her leash. You look down as he takes the container from your hands. He is all too quick to welcome himself in.

“I’ll put everything away,” he steps past you again, “you just relax. You got a stream planned tonight?”

You nearly choke on your answer; no. You bend to undo the straps of your shoes and step out of them. You glance over as he opens the fridge.

Aika begins her exploration of your apartment, sniffing along the mat and into the front room. You wring your hands as you near the doorway and stare at Sy. He reaches into the bag, unpacking each purchase and tucks it away in a cupboard or the fridge.

“Um, it was kind of you to drive me home but…”

“This is a nice place,” he interrupts you as he snaps the cupboard shut, folding up the first bag with a crinkle. 

“Yeah, uh, I guess. But what I was saying, I have some work tomorrow–”

“Oh yeah, don’t worry, I’ll stay out of your way. Let you get your editing done.”

Silence. Frightening realisation. He has no plans to leave.

“Er, do you live around here?” You gulp, your throat painfully tight.

“Nah, actually, I never been here before I found you,” he explains breezily. “It’s not too bad though.”

“What do you… what?”

“Yeah, well, they sent me home but you know, without a home,” he says as he folds the second bag, putting both in the recycling. “It’s hard. You give yourself to the forces but they don’t always give back.” He turns to you, rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck, “I’ll grab my bag outta the truck later. All that grease made me sleepy.”

He slaps his stomach and nears. You back up to let him past. He strokes your cheek as he crowds you. You’re quaking.

“I waited so long for you, sweetie, hard to believe I’m finally here, huh?” You back up against the door. He tilts his head and squints, “what’s going on? You’re acting strange.”

“I… I just… I think the sugar upset my stomach,” you lie.

“Ah, you should come lay down, we can watch something,” he offers.

“No, I should catch up on chores,” you say breathily.

“Hm, well, you change your mind and you can join me,” he winks and runs his thumb along your cheek.

He strides away as you remain paralysed. How is this happening? How have you let this happen? He’s invaded your life so quickly and you’re certain he has no plans of retreat.

The couch springs squeak as he flops onto it with a sigh. You glance over as he swipes up the remote to your forty-inch and flicks it on. Aika comes up next to him and rests her head on his middle. He lays with his head against one armrest and his feet propped over the other. He pets her as he flips through the menu.

Do you call the police? Would they even believe you? You can barely believe it yourself.

You flit into the kitchen and stir around in your cross-body bag. You pull out your phone and hover your thumb over the emergency call button. You just stare, hovering, uncertain. You don’t want to get in trouble but this is an emergency, isn’t it?

“Sweetie,” Sy calls to you, shaking you out of your stupor. “Can you grab me something to drink? I’m parched.”

You put your phone down. You don’t even know what you would say. ‘Hello, can you send the police? I let a man into my apartment willingly and he’s using my Prime subscription.’ Really? ‘Oh, and he’s a veteran who just returned from combat’. That will go over well.

“Um, water or guava juice?” You cringe as you chime back. You don’t accept this but you don’t know how to reject him. He could break you in half and from the fleeting surges of his temper, you don’t doubt that he would.

“Water’s fine, thanks, sweetie,” he replies.

You focus on the simple task of filling a glass from the faucet filter. You carry it into the front room and place it on one of the clam shell coasters. He sidles up against the armrest and reaches for it. Aika lays dutifully before the couch.

“I don’t mind if ya do make a few videos, I’m not shy,” he offers before he swigs half the glass.

“Um, no, I don’t have anything… to shoot,” you wipe your sweaty palms on your overalls.

“Right, I think I’ll finish this episode then hop in the shower. Been a long day already, y’know?”

You just nod. It has been a long day. A ludicrous one. 

You really hope this is a nightmare. Please, wake up soon.

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: I'm a Mouse, Duh [Yandere TPOF!Ren (Fox) x Reader]

Title: I'm a Mouse, Duh [Yandere TPOF!Ren (Fox) x Reader]

Synopsis: Fox wants you in just the right costume for his party.

For Horrorfest request:

Fox making his darling try on different "sexy" Halloween costumes

Word Count: 1291

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, a bit of humiliation/degradation, descriptions of previous injuries including eye gouging, questionable taste in Halloween costumes

You didn’t know you could feel anything like shame anymore, but there it was, red-hot, covering your cheeks, not unlike a thin, sticky layer of latex that you couldn’t peel off yourself. 

Speaking of--

“Turn around,” Fox murmurs, idly swirling his glass of champagne while you swiftly obey his words. 

You turn ever so slowly, because you know what’s what he wants to see. You imagine you’re a doll in a music box, sans music and static ballerina pose, spinning slowly enough to let him get a look at his newest handiwork. 

The skin-tight latex cat costume does wonders in keeping your movements slow as well, but you try to ignore that part and stay in the music box metaphorical fantasy. 

He sighs lowly--your stomach roils--and shakes his head. 

“No, not quite right.”

He gives you another once-over, and you must be frowning, because he continues in a casually reassuring tone. “Not that you don’t look lovely, but it’s not what I want for tonight.” What he wants, in this case, is unclear. You’ve already tried on 3 different costumes, and he didn’t care for any of them. 

He gestures with his free hand at your hand, and you dutifully remove the latex cat ears (that matched your outfit, of course) and hand them over. 

He sets them on the table and beckons you over.You eagerly scamper over, turning away from him; you really did need help removing the thin layer of latex. At least he does it swiftly, though you feel a veneer of sweat on your back when he begins to peel it away. He continues pulling it down until you lift each of your legs, stepping out of the tight concoction with a visible sigh of relief. 

There’s a warm chuckle behind you, and you shiver when you feel his nails lightly raking down your back. 

When he stands and makes his way over to the long costume rack that one of his employees brought in, you follow. He thumbs through them, humming, pulling a few out now and then.

He pulls out a black and white lacy concoction, something that looks like the type of clothing people world in olden days. A big felt sword hangs off the flimsy top and there’s a large tricorn hat attached to the hanger, and it takes you a moment to realize what the costume is meant to be. 

A pirate.

He smiles, but you don’t. Your empty eye socket suddenly aches and your lip trembles. Which just makes him grin a little.

“Too on the nose, huh?” He taps his finger above your eye patch, a neutral black cloth for now. Fox said he wanted to pick your costume before they went about choosing what prosthetic or patch to give you. 

You suppose he wants you to care that he’s taking the time to find you the right costume, that he wants you to be appreciative that he’s putting so much effort into it. And when you suppose what he wants,  you do your best to fulfill it. That’s how you’ve made it this far.

So you look closer every time you think he might be choosing a costume and you try (pirate mistake notwithstanding) to mimic his reactions. This one is cute, mm-hmm. That one won’t do, nuh-uh. 

Maybe you would be appreciative, maybe even a bit excited about the idea of getting to dress up on Halloween, if you weren’t dreading tonight. You were going to attend a Halloween party with him. Thrown by him. Populated by the guests he chose. 

You weren’t putting on a show (that fear had already been cooingly whisked away, the moment you broke down into seizure-like sobs at the thought) but you would be… on display. 

Like a pet. No, no, that’s not entirely right, is it? You are a pet. You’ve got the collar to prove it. 

What would the people at the party be like? As bad as the ones who watched the show? Worse, because they were there in person and not just through a screen? Maybe some of them would be the same… would any of them recognize you? Would they hurt you? Would Fox let them hurt you? What if--

“Ah! This one!” He says, pulling you out of your heavy thoughts. There’s a glint of excitement in his voice that makes the tension in your stomach ease off. 

When he gets excited like this, it’s a good sign. Usually it’s related to finding out that you like some of the same things as him (you genuinely enjoyed, at least as much as you could, curling up on a sofa and watching anime with him) or you surprising him in a way that pleases him.

Sometimes he seems younger when he gets like this, more carefree. There’s a pang of envy when that happens, but you never let it last too long. 

He pulls out the costume he’s chosen and shoves it into your waiting, slightly trembling, arms. You don’t even have time to really see what he chose. 

“Quick now.” He flashes a muted grin. “The guests will arrive soon enough. Don’t want to be late for your first party.” 

You don’t waste time getting dressed. The end result, when you stand up and let him zip up the back of the costume, is cuter than you expected. It’s a mouse costume, a short little gray number with a black tail hanging off the edge. The costume covers your ass enough that as long as you don’t bend over, you should be fine.

 (You try not to think of ways that Fox might make you bend over in front of others. But then, he didn’t like it much when others were around you, so maybe he didn’t want you to show off more than necessary? The questions are really too difficult to consider for long.)

The finishing touch is a big pair of cutesy gray mouse ears that he tenderly places on your head. It’s the type of costume that you might have worn on a night out with friends, before. Though you’d have worn something else underneath, and you’d definitely still have two eyes. 

Still. It’s better than the tight catsuit. 

And you look... cute. If you ignore the missing eye, and the scars on your face. And the cauterized nail wounds dotting your body. And the cross-cross of scars, old and new, lining your arms and legs.

These are all things you have gradually forced yourself to ignore, so yes, you can put them aside and appreciate the way that the mouse ears frame your face or the way that the costume is made from nice materials.

You can ignore the hungry gaze of Fox standing behind you, keeping his eyes on your own as you stare at your reflection.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, standing behind you and looking at the finished product through your reflection. In the mirror, you see him place a kiss on your neck. Your body recognizes what will happen before your brain does, because your shoulder tenses even before he bites your skin harshly, lapping at the blood he leaves behind. 

“We can leave the patch as-is,” he says. You’re too busy staring at your reflection to answer. Maybe he takes it for being pouty, because he continues.  “Unless you want one of your prosthetics tonight?” 

How nice of him to ask, you think, and your heart feels sick when you realize the thought came without a trace of sarcasm. You’re really fucked up, huh?

You shake your head and give a little smile, looking at him in the mirror.

“No,” you say, voice meeker than you meant it to be. “Whatever you think looks best, sir.” 

He smiles, just a little. An intimate smile, a you’re-being-good smile, the kind you think (you hope) he reserves just for moments like this. And then he places a tender kiss on your bite wound. Bits of red stick to his lips and he licks them away, sighing low and almost husky. 

You know this sound, these gestures, the way his breath quickens and comes out of his nose. You feel two hands grope your ass and you squeak, like the mouse you might as well be. 

“I suppose it won’t hurt if we’re a little late… it is my party after all.”

[ohdeerfully]

can you do a lil story abt alasor x chubby reader? Idk I've been getting kinda insecure lately especially abt all my stretch marks so please and thank you! Have a nice day also I love your story's and stuff

rahh i just had to write something for this even though its at the top of my list. hopefully you like it, and i hope youve been feeling better lately! heres some sickeningly sweet fluff!! rather short, around 1.5k words

Bare

Alastor x Reader (fluff/comfort)

TW: body dysmorphia, insecure reader, alastor ooc but hes a cutie pie so its ok really (coping)

join my discord!

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You purse your lips at your bare reflection, turning this way and that to peer at the different angles of your body and its curves. The expression on your face turned into a frown as your eyes trailed over the stripes that decorated the conjunction of your stomach and thighs, evidence of the weight you had gained over the last year.

The atmosphere was all too uncomfortable, which only made you feel worse. A mediocre shower had left your hair damp and skin cold, and the light breeze that wafted from your slightly cracked window chilled you. Your towel was lying, discarded, by your feet, but you had become too engrossed in looking at yourself in the body length mirror to really take note of the goosebumps that pricked up your arms.

You looked away from the mirror and down at your legs, lifting and twisting one to get a better look at your thighs. You sighed at the sight. You thought you might cry, but you didn't want to cry—

“Cher,” A familiar voice made you jump to attention, head whipping up and almost knocking against the chin of the culprit had he not placed his hand in the way to halt your motion. “We don’t want to catch a cold now, do we?” His voice was uncharacteristically low, and it lacked the usual intonation of static.

You met Alastor’s red gaze through the mirror as he stood behind you, bent slightly so his head was level with yours. You were embarrassed, standing here naked in front of the Radio Demon, but you were frozen in place. His hands rested gingerly against your shoulders, trailing up and down your arms, slow and gentle. 

You fought back the urge to shove him away when his hands strayed from your arms, traveling under them and wrapping over your stomach. You swallowed. Tears started to blur your vision as numerous racing ideas filled your mind, casting doubt on the genuine nature of Alastor’s affections. You paused mentally when you felt another light touch of his lips against your cheek. 

You didn’t blink, worried that a tear may slip down and concern the demon behind you. You caught his gaze again in the mirror and he stood silently for a moment, studying your expression. You knew your eyes looked glassy and your lips were pressed tightly in a thin line, but you prayed to God—ironically enough—that he wouldn’t notice. His brows knit, creating a slight crease on his forehead, and you timidly stood there wringing your hands together. You felt so vulnerable, so scrutinized, because why else would he be staring at you so intently if it wasn’t to judge your bared body?

“What a sight,” He said suddenly, promptly placing a featherlight kiss on the crook of your neck. “How lucky is a man to have you all to himself?” He eyed your face and your body, but his gaze lacked the typical glare of lust and hunger that you would expect from a man. Instead, they only conveyed some tender, unspoken feelings of affection for you. As strange as it was to see such a look on Alastor, you had grown accustomed and welcoming of it.

There was still doubt in your mind, but you knew to trust the gentle words he spoke to the best of your ability. Alastor was full of lies and manipulation, but he was different behind the doors of your shared room. You knew a side of him that was, for him, as equally vulnerable as you were currently. So, though there was still a part of you that fought against the idea of him loving you despite what you found in yourself to be so ugly, you allowed the reassurance of his touch and words to calm your mind.

“Now,” He said, standing up straight once more. He gingerly picked up the damp towel by your feet, contemplated it for a moment, and then vanished it in a dark plume of inky smoke. “Let’s get you something warm.”

He lightly placed his hand by your shoulder blade, pushing you with the lightest pressure to maneuver you away from the mirror. You cast one last look at yourself out of the corner of your eye, but noticed he was still watching you. You quickly looked away with an awkward, breathless laugh. He pulled you closer to himself as he walked you towards the bed. With a gentle shove from Alastor, you sat lightly on the edge of the mattress, bouncing your leg as you watched him cross the room.

He hummed as he sifted through the closet of your room, a finger on his chin as he looked too concerned about picking out pajamas. You figured he was just trying to be silly to lighten your mood, and you appreciated it. Plus, you had to admit to yourself, seeing him look so serious at a bunch of old, oversized shirts did cheer you up.

He returned after a moment with a simple red top and fuzzy black pants. He motioned his finger to prompt you to lift your arms, which had subconsciously come to rest over your stomach. You obeyed, albeit with some hesitance, and bit your lip as you lifted your arms from their protective position.

“You know,” He spoke as he aided you in pulling your arms and head through the shirt. He paused his words for a moment to shake out the pants so the fabric was straightened, and then he continued. “If the Gods were to exist, I’d say your beauty would make them rather jealous. I don’t think art even portrays them quite as enchanting.”

“Oh, you flatter me,” You said with a light eye roll and a too-sarcastic tone in your voice that you immediately regretted. He didn’t seem to mind, though.

“Oh, but it’s true!” He argued back with a light smile. He tenderly lifted one of your legs and slipped the fabric of the fuzzy pajamas over, and followed suit with your other leg. You lifted yourself up with your hands so he could slip the waist over your hips.

He stood, looking down at you for a moment, again just analyzing you. It was easier to feel more comfortable under his gaze—as comfortable as anyone could possibly be with Alastor looking at them so intently—when you were clothed.

He ruffled your hair, accompanying the movement with a pleased hum, before turning and beginning to change himself. You shuffled yourself up the bed, resting your back against the headboard as you carefully watched him.

His coat came off first, slipping down his shoulders and hung carefully in the closet. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the fluffy red tail that flicked as the cold air breezed through the fur. You made a mental note to ask to pet it later—maybe he would let you if you told him it would make you feel better. He then pulled at the hem of his undershirt, tugging it up and over his head and then down his arms. His hair tumbled down in soft locks from the neckline as he popped his head from the shirt.

God, how embarrassing you probably looked right now, watching Alastor undress in front of you with the sickest, lovestruck eyes. If you were a drawing, there would probably be hearts floating all over your head right now.

He bent at the hip slightly to rustle through a drawer of his own night shirts, and you watched the edges of his shoulder blades and the slight curvature of his lean muscles shift and contort under his pale skin with every move he made. Your eyes traveled up and down his back, drawing mental images with the lines of scars that marred his otherwise smooth flesh.

Heat flushed your cheeks when he turned his head slightly, looking at you through the corner of his eyes, catching you ogling him. His grin only grew wider, though, before he finally threw on a loose shirt. What a tease.

He made quick work of his pants, replacing them with some comfortable sweats that looked almost alien on him, considering his usual attire. He joined you in the bed, his body creating a sizable dip in the mattress that made you fall against him. His arm snaked behind your back, coming to cup you at the curves of your waist and pulling you closer. He pressed a kiss against the top of your head before resting his cheek against it.

There would be no discussion about what had been bothering you minutes prior, and you were perfectly okay with it. Alastor was useless at emotional discussions, and in extension comforting you directly, but he could, to the best of his ability, comfort you through his actions and presence. A light, soothing jazz tune reverberated in the dark room, manifesting from his cane that sat against the wall by the bed. You closed your eyes and sighed, tangling your legs into his underneath the sheets.

You purse your lips, a light curve at the corners as you smiled at your previous idea.

“Al, my love,” You said softly, moving your head so he would lift his own off of it and look at you. His red eyes had a light glow in the dark.

“Yes, ma moitie?” He lifted his clawed hand and gently placed his index under your chin. Your next words made his body jerk and tense.

“Could I pet your tail?”