#like he has FEELINGS hes a HUMAN BEINg which is quite a revelation for him ofc.

[wraithsoutlaws]

shit aint so bad.

[chastiefoul]

—finally giving up on your unrequited love ft. alhaitham

a/n: ouch i hurt myself writing this. wc: 1.6k words of yapping about unrequited feelings

once upon a time you were grateful for alhaitham’s indifference, the lack of anything he was being when you’re badgering him with chatters, a detailed description of your day, concerns over him, and the occasional gifts.

it seemed like a blessing once, like acceptance. the slightest open of the door, thinking you could invite yourself in and he’d embrace that fact. but as his apathy remain constant and unchanging, you’ve come to realization—an embarassing one at that.

that indifference, that should’ve been a sign for you; alhaitham will never return your feelings.

-

 a stroll a day, keeps the stressful thoughts away.

however today’s walk is just not doing it for you, once you decided to wake up from the dreamland you thought you’ve been living in. a faraway and unrealistic vision of a life where you end up together with the akademiya scribe. an exaggerated sigh escaped you at your own daydreaming. usually by now you’d be quick on your feet to visit the scribe, however the overdue revelation you had last night made you finally think twice before doing it. and only because of that now you’d realized just how much of your life was centered on the grey-haired man, which was a scary discovery, knowing just exactly how little you mattered to his.

you found an empty bench mid-walk, immediately sitting on it. you leaned back, both of your hands holding your weight as you look above. the sky was clear that day, but your mind was clearer, as if a thick fog has finally been lifted.

seriously, what have you been doing all this time? giving your all to someone who wanted none of you. alhaitham’s curt nod, his brief and short responses really should’ve been a clue as to how he felt about you. yet you kept being stubborn, and sometimes hope was human’s greatest enemy. what should have been a bare minimum gesture he did, your mind managed to twist it into something more; clinging to it like a water on a desert. when it turned out that was exactly all there was to it—a mirage.

you chuckled sadly. even remembering those pathetic displays, you couldn’t bring yourself to fully regret having this feeling towards alhaitham. those moments where you’d steal a glance at him and felt like the world was okay. you would not allow yourself to forget that as you became more selfish, wanting him to look at you and feel the same. but here you were, reluctantly learning to accept the fact that he may never does.

suddenly a shadow loomed over you, shielding you from the sunlight you didn’t realize was so bright.

a familiar blond invaded your vision. “(y/n)?” he called out unsure, not expecting you to be there. “oh hi there, kaveh,” you lightly said, as if your heavy train of thoughts hadn’t existed at all. you adjusted your sitting position, shifting yourself to the side as you spare an empty spot beside you for him to sit. kaveh swiftly took your silent offer up, making himself as comfortable as he could on the wooden bench. “i spotted you from afar and you seemed a little troubled, hopefully i was wrong?” the ever so kind kaveh spoke up, and you couldn’t help but smile. kaveh always felt like a friend more than alhaitham ever was, albeit knowing him after you got to know the scribe. you weren’t even sure if the grey-haired man would ever mention even a word about his roommate if it wasn’t for you hanging wround on his office on a peaceful lunch break when the fuming blond barged in and yell at him about a key.

as it turned out, it’s a known fact that most people became quiet irritable when it comes to being in contact with the curt and aloof scribe, since kaveh has been nothing but a good friend since the day he gave you a weird look about wanting to get close to the acting grand master.

“it’s kind of complicated to say,” you started, thinking of the words as you went on. “let’s just say i’m having a quite bittersweet moment.”

you rested your gaze on the bustling street in front of you. he nodded in reply, “i’m guessing it’s more bitter than it is sweet?” he asked genuinely as you smiled once more despite not feeling a drop of mirth. “i suppose so,” you replied curtly, not knowing what to say to his keen observation. keen and exactly correct.

it’s the kind of bitterness that lingered. a kind of flavor you’d expected, since you’re the one who put it in. still, when that sharp taste hit your tongue you couldn’t help but flinch. after all, things don’t stop affecting you even though you saw it coming from miles away. you just hoped the sweetness will get stronger overtime, overpowering as it wash down the unpleasant aftertaste.

kaveh mirrored your smile in return except his looked particularly patronizing, as if he could sense your helplessness.

“will you tell me what happened?” his voice sounded gentle, a care you’ve never heard from the man you’d give a limb to for him to say things along that line. how do you even begin to answer such a simple question? nothing happened, and that’s why it was the problem. the fact that you’re the only one who’s mulling all over this, being so conflicted to what he thought must be nothing. a pain so overwhelming that’s swirling all over your chest while his biggest inconvenient that day was probably a typo made in a document made by a lousy student.

the whole thing just sounded so... pathetic.

“nothing happened... it’s just, i have decided to finally give up on something,” you try your best to sound nonchalant despite having no bravery to look at him, scared that he didn’t look like he believed you.

“well, i might know a thing or two about it. sometimes when an architecture project is too... unreasonable,” kaveh paused, the word tasted like a sour lime on his mouth. “there’s no way but to give it up. especially if you take a step back as take the whole picture from many aspects; in my case, there are budget, location, materials, and so on. there would definitely be some regret about letting go especially an ambitious task, however i think many of my past-self would really like to give the present-me a big gratitude for not forcing it through,” he rambled on, despite having no idea what were you referring on. “even sometimes, the reward was just not worth the risk, you know?” he ended it at that, throwing the question at you.

you swallowed on nothing, but you needed that to let out a reply.

“yes, i do know.”

“yeah? does this mean in your case, whatever you were fighting for was not worth it in the end?”

oh, that’s the worst part. you knew, you knew it with your heart, body and soul that it would be so worth it if there’s an outcome, a scenario where alhaitham might return your feelings. oh it would be so worth it. you could smile, just imagining how worth it would it be.

but that was all it was. an unattainable imagination. an ending that you couldn’t allow yourself to be so cocky to reach.

kaveh waited for your respond patiently, but when the silence had gone for too long he moved his stare to you. he widened his eyes, his gaze softened.

“i don’t think you’re as okay as you made yourself to be,” he said softly, as you felt your cheeks wet by the uninvited tears, running along freely across your face. yet, you couldn’t make an effort to stop them, your heart knew more than anyone you needed that. to feel the sadness, to recognize it.

to let go of the fact that alhaitham will never return your feelings.

kaveh was just quiet as you sobbed quietly, putting a handkerchief silently at the space between you both. there is no empty consolation, no comforting words, no small pats on the back. there’s just silence, a little safe bubble for you to cry in without people coming over to you and asked why.

giving up is such a funny thing, how could doing it hurt more than to keep trying even though you received no sign of reciprocity at all? but you knew the answer of that.

when there hasn’t been a rejection, it’s in everyone’s nature to have hope. a hope that there’s a chance of obtaining something you’ve wished for. a chance that something could happen.

giving up means finality. a state of accepting an outcome you hadn’t wanted. a result you never asked for. an ending where all that’s left was what should have and what could have. a harsh reality people could only accept as it dangled the possibilities and visions of what ‘could have happened’ if you’d just kept trying right in front of your eyes.

like chasing your own shadow; a fun thing to do when you’re a child, but now it’s just a fitting metaphor, reminding you of a fool’s way who love in such a pathetic way.

-

once upon a time you were grateful for alhaitham’s indifference, the lack of anything he was being when you’re badgering him with chatters, a detailed description of your day, concerns over him, and the occasional gifts.

but now it’s definitely a curse. after all, anything that has to do with love was not indifference.

it was never, indifference.

---

the urge to write this in alhaitham pov........................ should i?

[shiny-jr]

outlander

Warning: Yandere. Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim Al-Asim, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia. 

Summary: In every land you travel to, there's a god with elemental powers. But why is it that in every nation you arrive to, the gods attempt to make you stay?

Note: Why has no one done a genshin x twst thing? This is more of a concept idea than anything else. I might do a series with it, or not, or just random posts. Feel free to ask about it or request stuff for it.

This must be a dream, either that or a never-ending nightmare.

Waking up alone on a sandy beach, as if washed ashore, was disorientating. There was nothing else on the shore save for shells and the occasional crab, no debris indicating a wreck and no scattered belongings. All you had on you were the clothes on your back, which were a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt, your pajamas.

In the center of your palms, was a marking you had never seen before, like a freshly painted tattoo in the shape of a tiny key. As curious as the strange new markings were and you wondered how they even got there, there was a larger question looming:

How did you get here?

GRIM

There was a cat on the beach. At least, it looked like a cat. A talking feline, with gray fur and the most impossible feature of blue fire lightly simmering in his ears.

It spoke, just like a human, with a grating high-pitched voice. It was a devilish little beast, with little fangs sharper than his comebacks that he supposed were funny.

The feline pridefully announced his name: Grim.

And when you told Grim your story of how you woke up by the water's edge with no recollection of how you got here and little to your name, the creature didn't appear to care. However, when he spoke of elements being used by people and names of nations and cruel living gods you never once heard of, only then was he very vaguely intrigued. Perhaps it was amusement, as he laughed and called you stupid for not even knowing of The Seven.

That's when you heard a growl, not from behind his fangs but from his stomach. If you looked at him from the right angle, he looked quite scrawny. The poor thing was hungry, you realized.

All it took was an offering of cans of tuna found in an empty cabin nearby, and you had him in your grasp. Following you around was only temporary, he insisted, he'd go along so long as there was food. While a talking cat was not the most conventional of guides, it was better than nothing, especially since he knew basic knowledge of each nation and where the nearest sign of civilization was located.

HEARTSLABYUL

Through the winding dark woods where mysterious creatures lurked in hollow trees and dead end paths, were meadows of flowers and peaceful grooves. However, don't let the tranquillity of nature fool you. In the distance were mountains– not actually mountains, but volcanoes and hot sprints along this land's border.

It's been said that the very millions of roses and other greenery in this land, was formed when ash rained down on dry barren earth for nearly a month. Ash from those very dormant volcanoes that were the backdrop to this perfect scenery, which came in huge black clouds thousands of years ago and blanketed the earth.

A god, an archon, the deity of law that rained hell on earth over thousands of years ago.

Long ago this land was a country of criminals ruled by a god of chaos that reveled in havoc and disorder. Among the mayhem, was a small deity of fire with mighty powers and a vision for a future he was determined to see. Riddle, is what the deity was called.

Riddle gained a number of followers to listen to his words, and he created order. A small feat compared to the many wicked still running about in a lawless land ruled by a god that valued anarchy. So, using newfound strength, the deity of fire drew forth molten lava from the mouths of the northern volcanos, burning all those in its path while the deadly plumes of smoke and ash suffocated those that remained. Atop the remains of the destroyed towns and cities, he built a new nation of order for his loyal followers.

Today, it is a thriving nation filled with flowers and greenery. However, there is one issue. The god of pyro, Riddle, is a tyrant. Every law is expected to be followed without question and without fail, beheadings have become nearly a daily occurrence with the criminals often being charged with mistakingly picking flowers on Wednesdays, drinking the wrong sort of tea post-meals, or playing croquet after five pm.

You were fortunate to be spared after your audience with the god of law, for breaking the rule: one must never bring a cat to a formal affair. Before he could burn you were you stood, you interjected, answering that your companion was no cat, so you had broken no rule.

Well, he promptly apologized for the misunderstanding and in turn, offered to make up for it by inviting you to a tea party. It would be best to except his invitation, afterall, he was the same deity that buried nearly an entire country in lava and ash, then built his kingdom atop their remains. He was a tyrant that beheaded and burned people on the daily. It was wise not to get on his bad side. Besides, he appears to have taken a fancy for you. Riddle implores that you tell him more of your world while you ignore the whispers of rebellion.

There is no leaving Heartslabyul, not without the explicit permission from the god of law. The borders with their volcanoes burn any would-be invaders, allowing passage only to merchants and travelers who have received the pyro deity's blessing. Why would Riddle ever give you his blessing to see you go?

SAVANACLAW

Across the volcanoes and hot springs of the borders, the mountains turn green with dense jungles. Across the river lies the savanna where the world's most wondrous creatures run free. Times have been turbulent, the shaking ground was evidence of troubles with this nation's divine beings, or rather, now single divine being.

Earthquakes have always been a sign of something occurring either for a purpose or unintentionally by someone else. The harsher the quake, the greater the importance of the event. And not too long ago, a ginormous tremor shook the entire globe. Something of major importance had happened.

A god, an archon, the deity of intellect was the new sovereign after tragedy befell his elder brother.

In the past the land was under the protection of the god of strength, a mighty god worshipped by his people. This god had a young heir who was also beloved by the people. However, most forgot or completely disliked the younger brother of the god of strength, a deity of ground, Leona, who had a burning hated for his brother.

Leona amassed followers of his own in secret. It came as no surprise that the common and the wealthy adored the exalted god of strength. However, the poor detested him, because he offered no help to them, no matter how much they prayed and offered what little they had to his alter. Instead, their prayers for mercy and for a change in luck, were answered by the deity of ground. The change of luck came from the death of the former god and his son, paving the way for a new sovereign.

Today, there is uncertainty in the street. Many of the former worshippers of the god of strength believe in one thing. The god of geo, Leona, is unfit to rule. The poor and mistreated have emerged from hiding places in the shadows, filled with newfound confidence for their was finally a god that answered their prayers. However, there remains a growing tension between both factions. Followers of the new god sing his praises, while followers who mourn for his brother believe that everything is falling into disarray.

You were promptly introduced to the god of intellect by his followers that wished to spread the good word. There was something wrong, you and your companion both agreed. How could a powerful god of strength and his young heir just perish without warning? Something was amiss.

This was just a new follower, at least in his eyes. So he brushed you off, allowing you to partake in the best food and drink only his followers had the privilege of receiving. Testing your luck, you decided you would ask him if he knew of a way home. For now you filled him in, explaining your origins and recent adventures. For such a conniving and arrogant leader, he was surprisingly lax. It even appeared as if he wasn't even listening to your words, just dozing off on some pillows. Your words were at least more interesting to him than the rumors of possible unrest.

Perhaps he does know a way for you to return home, but he doesn't want to tell you. It's as simple as that. He likes the new follower, you. Besides, you're not going. There is always the option of traveling further, but why do so when the geo deity has what you need? Leona greatly loathes betrayal from his own worshippers, so you wouldn't leave Savanaclaw to see another god, would you?

OCTAVINELLE

In the seas dwell creatures of unimaginable horrors living deep within the watery depths, across the ocean over turbulent waves there are islands of paradise. The chain of islands composed warm southern beaches and cold northern snowlands. This may be paradise, but a toll must be paid to even get near the islands.

A tax is applied to all arriving merchants wishing to trade and tourists wishing to step foot on the island. It doesn't make much sense, until you see their towns and cities bursting with trade. Business was booming, apparently. The water is clear and pristine, you could see the vibrant coral reefs and schools of fish swimming below.

A god, an archon, the deity of contracts once came from these very waters when there was no land.

Thousands of years ago there was nothing but ocean out this far away from the mainland. That is, until a deity of water appeared from the depths. He promised a new nation to traveling merchants, so long as they worshipped him. The deity introduced himself as Azul.

Azul had grown bored of the dull happenings under the sea, for he had achieved most things beneath the waves. The ocean could not satisfy his endless greed. He had his sights set on higher elevation, with the lofty goal of being just as powerful on land as he was in the ocean. He moved waves, creating tsunamis outward but revealing islands once hidden by water. The merchants took to land and fulfilled their end of the deal, worshipping him while creating a prosperous nation of deals.

In present day, hardly anyplace can compare to the thriving hub the nation has become. However, loyal followers have begun to see his greed. The god of hydro, Azul, is a charlatan. The ocean in all its vastness was not enough to satisfy his desires, it was why he took to land. For the promise of fulfilling prayers, something always must be given in turn or the worshippers must risk going on a quest. But, it is not always as it seems. One way or another, a prayer asking for something will end in the worshipper becoming in debt to him.

In exchange for an answer to the continued question of how to return home, you have nothing to offer for payment except for ideas. Home was modern, this world was not yet on par with the technology you knew. So you offer ideas of inventions, a device to capture an image in time, a mechanism like a box with wheels, a tool to contact someone miles away.

He believes you're quite bright, you think it false flattery to deceive you but you would be wrong. Your ideas are truly brilliant, and will no doubt earn him more millions and influence in other nations on the mainland! Best to take the compliment with a smile, or else this swindler may find a way to trap you in debt. Azul insists you tell him more of your home and your lucrative ideas. Here, a contract, where he shall sell your ideas as goods and you shall reap the rewards! Whatever hearsay you've heard painting him in a bad light, is defamation! Don't fall for it so easily.

Sailing away from Octavinelle would just be a fool's quest. Unless you can escape on a boat that can weather the harshest of sea storms, there is no stepping foot off the island without the risk of drowning. Don't you have more profitable ideas to share with the hydro deity? If not, just listening to your voice would make Azul content than all the gold in the world could.

SCARABIA

Rolling sand dunes stretch as far as the eye could see, and rocky canyons border a savanna. Sandstorms fill the skies like a dark cloud, covering the dry hot land in a new layer of sand once again. Struggle through the scorching days and blistering cold nights, and there will be an oasis in the center between large flowing rivers.

Life follows the flowing waters, and an enormous oasis is planted in the center of the desert. For miles and miles along the banks, are blooming cities and towns. A great contrast to the desert outside, these settlements are overflowing with water, with the greenest gardens and greatest crops.

A god, an archon, the deity of commerce that gave life to a once barren land.

Thousands of years ago, a terrible famine struck the land. All remaining oasis had shriveled up, leading to starvation. A kind-hearted deity of earth took pity on the people. So he decided to extend a helping hand. People would call the deity Kalim.

Kalim used his abilities to create a lush environment, a vast and incredibly rich oasis out of sand in the middle of the desert. When he walked, grass and flowers sprouted from the sand. In days, he managed to create a garden of tremendous size and design, where his new followers could live in peace and luxury by the rivers. Towns and cities were developed, giving way to a grand nation where he resided in comfort and extravagance, surrounded by people that adored him.

Now there is a grand metropolis where there is just as much gold in the markets as there are flowers. The god of dendro, Kalim, is naive. For thousands of years he has been sheltered and treasured by his people. He is oblivious and clumsy, but at the same time he is not foolish. He knows of the people that have attempted to use his abilities for sinister purposes. Although, no one could guess a conniving being plotting against him, resides in his very own palace.

Exciting adventures and thrilling tales, the god of commerce loves to hear your stories of the outside world! First time foreigners are welcomed with open arms, but you are treated as a rare guest with your unique origin. This might just be the most peaceful land you had ever traveled to.

Come, partake in the celebrations! It's easy to forget that such a laidback and cheerful personality belongs to that of a deity that gave life to this region of the desert. Dance, chat, he wishes to do it all with you! The brightness of the fireworks and lively atmosphere is nearly enough to drown out the presence in the shadows you see from the corner of your eyes. A figure with a piercing gaze, watching the jolly divine being with envy in their eyes. With a power as tempting as his, there would be those wishing to snatch it. Kalim distracts you, offering more food and drink with a smile sweeter than any flower.

Why would anyone ever wish to leave this garden that was Scarabia? The outside, the desert and canyons, were harsh and unforgiving. The god of commerce did not wish to see you risk traveling and getting hurt. The dendro deity invites you to stay in the city! Surely you could be happy here with Kalim, right?

POMEFIORE

On elevated lands, between mountains and hills, were endless forests in which travelers often vanished in or were discovered frozen. A winter wonderland, although this wasn't so delightful. It was beautiful, but a deadly kind of beautiful, where you risked being chased by mysterious beasts or becoming lost in blizzards.

The snow may be pure, it may look picturesque upon frozen lakes and lines of white trees, but looks are deceiving. This was once a serene land with a temperate climate, but it has only gotten colder and colder in more recent months until there was not a single spot of green to be seen.

A god, an archon, the deity of curses who was so bitter like the cold that he caused snow to fall all year round.

Stories have told that the land was once warm in springs and summers, only growing cold whenever the divine being was cross. They were frighteningly beautiful and terrifyingly powerful, regal as royalty but at times wrathful. Vil, is what the deity was referred to.

Vil became envious of an emerging figure, so he invoked powerful blizzards and storms. In recent generations, there have been a growing number of his people breaking off into a separate faction that worshipped a younger compassionate god of healing. Enraged by the betrayal of some followers and resentful with biting jealously, many knew that it was only a matter of time before he would snap. This frightening divine being would not accept being dethroned, he would not allow himself to be demoted in the people's hearts.

Civilization continued to thrive, even despite the never-ending snow. And yet, people cannot help but worry what may happen if the cold doesn't let up by spring. The god of cryo, Vil, was pretentious. Anyone who openly voices their distaste for him or a preference for the god of healing, can expect to be encased in ice and used as a display. No one dares to even utter the name of his rival, for fear of incurring his wrath.

Misfortune brought you before the god of curses' throne. Mistakingly his followers had believed you to be worshippers of the god of healing, which you insisted not to know of. You had simply been lost. Maybe it was your gawking at his ethereal appearance, or the compliment you murmured under your breath, but you were not frozen a punishment.

He decided to interrogate you himself, and through his stern questioning you found yourself a nervous mess as you answered honestly but blabbered far too much. Maybe this deity was amused, much like a king would find humor in a pathetic little jester. The divinity that froze nonbelievers into statues for his palace, found you quite endearing. Vil even once smiled at you when you spoke of inconsequential things, warming his heart to which the clouds carrying snow broke apart if for a moment, causing his followers to go into a frenzy fueled by hope.

When leaving Pomefiore is so much as even mentioned, all exits will be frozen shut by the god of curses. Why even venture outside the palace, when you have earned the favor of the cryo deity? Perhaps the land is warmer, but the neighboring nation is dangerous and he forbids the journey. Why would anyone leave after finally melting Vil's icy cold heart?

IGNIHYDE

A forest of dead trees serves as an ominous welcome, or perhaps it was an omen warning incoming travelers. Slopes gave way to valleys, and along the coasts was a heavy mist that painted the vision gray. Homes and buildings, magnificent temples and crumbling feats of architecture, appeared to be floating in white clouds, but in reality they were situated on cliffsides thick with fog.

In the center of the dying forest, there are ruins of a grand temple once belonging to a god that met a tragic end. However, its remnants are closely guarded by mysterious creatures of air that cannot be touched. Legends say the temple was once a place of worship for a fledgling god related to the main god the nation worships today.

A god, an archon, the deity of innovation that has never once shown his face to the public.

Thousands of years ago, a pair of divine beings appeared. They went largely unnoticed for many years, until their brilliant inventions brought awe to those around them, attracting worshippers and diminishing the power of other local gods. The one remaining brother from this pair, is a deity known as Idia.

Idia created wondrous inventions, unintentionally forming a nation of inventors in the process. Withdrawn, dark, and silent, he is quite the unconventional god and yet he begrudgingly rules nonetheless. As reserved as he may be, he is feared among divinity. All lesser gods aiming for his spot are quickly wiped out by his inventions, without him so much as lifting a finger and using his own abilities. They're reduced to mere memories, as nothing is left of them. In times of old, it was once believed that he was a harbinger of death.

On decent days, the sun may shine on the coast, but most days there are heavy clouds and fog. The god of anemo, Idia, is an enigma. Most think him a ghost, for never appearing and for his abilities. The highest families, the most brilliant inventors, even other divine beings may request an audience, but he will never show. No one has ever seen him, all that's known is he is a figure shrouded in black robes like a grim reaper. There are others who believe there are double, because two figures have been spotted once.

You become the first to see his face purely by accident. It seemed he was just as startled of you, as you were of him. Thankfully, you were not going to be blown off the face of the planet by hurricane-level winds. No other god would help, in fact, they wished to keep you here. So you had to turn to him for assistance in finding a way home.

It was only by promising that he could pet Grim, a deal to which the feline disagreed to, did the god reluctantly hear you out. After your explanation, he scoffed as if looking at a simple equation like 2 + 2. Of course he knew the answer, but he wouldn't give out the assistance you needed. The deal was to hear you out, not help you out. He'd become quite bold in the private conversation, a sharp contrast to his previous anxious demeanor. There was no arguing against he who could slaughter gods with a snap of his fingers. Although you aren't as intolerable as other mortals, this he admits.

Departing from Ignihyde is highly unlikely, given how dense the fog is. You cannot even see the ground you're walking on. While, yes, the anemo deity hasn't assisted you, he will, eventually, probably, maybe... You're the first mortal Idia has ever asked to stay, so why would you turn your back to him?

DIASOMNIA

A wall of impenetrable thorns stands in the way, magically opening and creating a clear-cut path through dense forbidding forests lively with critters. The thorn walls close, effectively trapping you. There was something different. It was unlike all the previous nations, the very air itself felt off. With every step deeper into these whimsical woods, it felt as if you were not alone.

Once upon a time, there was a dragon. No one knows how long the dragon has been alive, only that even the oldest tales say he was already ancient way back when. Valleys were shaped by his claws, the rivers from his tail, rare ore came from his fallen scales buried in the earth, the tallest mountains were but small hills to him.

A god, an archon, the deity of dreams is by far the most powerful and most ancient of all divinity in the world.

Peace was his personal preference, as he enjoyed new company which he never truly received due to his fearsome reputation. However, when other divinity sought out his destruction and his home, the deity of electricity raged. Destruction was left in his wake across the entire globe, and everyone came to know the name Malleus.

Malleus commanded thorns to be raised like walls protecting his home, and constant violent storms to ward off anyone threatening to cause trouble. For hundreds of years, no foreigner was allowed to step foot within the nation's boundaries. Anyone that tried would quickly be reduced to ash, and just a number added to the untold amount he's slayed in order to protect himself and his territory. Kind he may be to his own, but to foes he is merciless. With his black horns and piercing eyes, some refer to him as a devil incarnate.

A land unseen by outlanders, it's peaceful and magical in it's beauty. However, it seems that while your presence may be surprising, it is not a shock. You're taken by knights in gray and black, escorted away. The god of electro, Malleus, has invited you to his castle. There is astonishment and disbelief in people's eyes, a foreigner alive and well. Most like you would have been reduced to particles before they could even step foot past the thorns.

Much to your horror, or relief, once you're brought to the god of dreams, he seems delighted to have you here. It seems your presence was expected, as all he said was, "So you've finally come to see me, hm? I was beginning to grow concerned that perhaps I would have been left out of your list of destinations."

This was the last option, the only one you could turn to in finding a way home. Surely, the most ancient and powerful deity would hold the answer and assist you, since he had been so kind as to allow you inside his nation. Although as welcoming as he may be, you must remember that despite his fang-toothed smile and the twinkle in his eyes, this man– no, god, was archaic and all-powerful. He must have killed more people than you will ever know, wiped out whole armies and flattened entire nations. Malleus tilts his head at you, requesting that you recount your tale, with every minute detail.

This will be the end, there will be no escaping Diasomnia. Of course, you shall not know until later. For now, the god of dreams delights in your stories. You were the first guest he's had in thousands of years, and one of the few who did not wish to slay the legendary dragon that was the electro deity. Malleus knows what you desire, he has seen it in your dreams. However, he will not be kind and grant you what you sought. If he did, then what he desired would then vanish: you.

[freyito]

ɢᴏᴛᴛᴀ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴʏᴛɪᴍᴇ

✭ pairing(s): calcharo x gn reader

✩ inspo: I'd Have You Anytime by George Harrison

★ summary: You decide your boyfriend is being too moody.

✧ a/n: I WANNA SAY THANK YOU ALL FOR SUCH THE KIND WORDS AUGHHH I'VE BEEN KICKING MY FEET AND GIGGLING IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY TwT... i've got some little event cookin up for 700 followers, don't you worry...

BUT ANYWAYS i've been chipping away at wuthering waves... it's pretty fun !! kuro games also just make banger. games. so... the character designs are sooo yummmyyyy and of course i had to write a little fic for my (second) favorite... sephir-- i mean calcharo.

🗒 cw: gn reader, short n sweet, just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 781

Calcharo’s not necessarily the most affectionate boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. You are the stars that pepper the sky, the calm and wholeness of a stream running within a foggy forest, the night that beckons him into comforting arms. You are his everything. And he is, unfortunately, not the best at expressing that. But he is loyal.

He tends to hide within himself, too spun up in his own thoughts to pay more attention to the world. Not that he isn’t hyper-aware of his surroundings, he has to stay alert, after all. But he tends to stress himself out quite a bit like this, worried about the Ghost Hounds, those he had sworn to protect, and so forth. It seems the only time those worries fade away is when he’s in your arms. You’ve started to notice a slight slump in his shoulders, how his face relaxes into more of a neutral expression rather than a frown, and even how his voice sounds a tad… lighter.

Today, he is rather moody, choosing to brood and pace around the house, worrying about menial things. The pacing is a little annoying, but every time he lets out a sigh or a frustrated grumble, you can’t help but feel your heart twist. There isn’t much you can do, you know that, and the man will always have his worries. It is human nature to worry, and perhaps Calcharo is more human than he likes to think.

He opens his mouth to protest again, perhaps question you as to why you’re so determined, but you shut him up real quick, cupping his cheek and pressing a quite tender kiss to his lips. That shuts his mind up quick, you can tell by the way his stern demeanor melts away, returning the kiss after a couple seconds.

When you break apart, his eyes have softened, and his body relaxes once more. He lets out a soft sigh as if this is what he had been waiting for all along. You aren’t quite satisfied with your work, though. It’s been too long since you’ve had time with Calcharo in general, so why not revel in it?

You press a kiss to his nose bridge first, lips lingering for a second longer before pressing another to his cheek, then his forehead, then wherever you can kiss him. He doesn’t move or complain or push you away, simply closes his eyes and lets a soft blush dust his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It’s such a rare sight to see this man blush, and the fact that he isn’t doing whatever he can to hide it from you is impressive.

You continue your torrent of kisses, leaving no span of skin unkissed, untouched. He lets out a low rumbling sound and a scoff, which is close enough to a laugh you can get it, and you don’t mind. Not one bit. He has no idea what to do with his hands for the next minute or so, placing them on your hips at first but then ghosts over your ribs. For once he feels… awkward. He’s barely used to you making advances, not that he necessarily leaves room for them. Given his reserved nature, he had done most of the leading in the relationship. You thought it would’ve been best to go at his pace, after all. But he had never felt awkward during these years with you.

You finally stop kissing him, pulling away to look down at him. He’s still blushing, hair just a little more disheveled than usual, and the possibility of a smile tugging at his lips. A rare sight indeed, you oughta pat yourself on the back for doing that to him.

“Too much?” You ask, your voice cracking with mirth as your hands settle on his shoulders.

“... Not enough.” Calcharo responds bluntly, despite the slight wavering tone in his voice.

The man finally understands what to do with his hands, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you down on top of him. You are practically nose-to-nose with him, and can’t help but giggle, which he responds in kind with a soft huff.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

hey do you have anything about writing stories that feel like greek tragedies. Arcane the show the first and second act of season 1 feels like one, and I was wondering if you had knew anything about that

Writing Notes: Greek Tragedy

An abbreviation of Aristotle's guidelines that form the basis of Tragedy, as outlined in Poetics:

Have a hero of great status and prosperity (which is why many tragic main characters are nobles or royalty), who suffers a terrible fall, usually death.

The fall is brought on by his own Fatal Flaw and past mistakes. His character should be consistent and unchanging to make his fall inevitable, such as being Prideful or stubborn, or so good and persistent such that fixing his mistakes destroys him.

The audience has to feel catharsis at his death, an emotional "purging" where the audience should feel relief and cleansing. Whether this catharsis is due to the schadenfreude, relief at having it better off than the character, or generally releasing pent-up anxiety is debated to this day.

While you do not need The Reveal and reversal of fortune (peripeteia in Greek) stemming from it, Aristotle considered those tragedies superior to those without it.

Tragedy - depicts the downfall of a noble hero or heroine, usually through some combination of hubris, fate, and the will of the gods.

The tragic hero's powerful wish to achieve some goal inevitably encounters limits, usually those of human frailty (flaws in reason, hubris, society), the gods (through oracles, prophets, fate), or nature.

Aristotle says that the tragic hero should have a flaw and/or make some mistake (hamartia).

The hero need not die at the end, but he / she must undergo a change in fortune.

In addition, the tragic hero may achieve some revelation or recognition (anagnorisis - "knowing again" or "knowing back" or "knowing throughout" ) about human fate, destiny, and the will of the gods.

Aristotle quite nicely terms this sort of recognition "a change from ignorance to awareness of a bond of love or hate."

Aristotle on Tragedy (From the Poetics of Aristotle [384-322 BC])

Tragedy, then, is a process of imitating an action which has serious implications, is complete, and possesses magnitude;

by means of language which has been made sensuously attractive, with each of its varieties found separately in the parts;

enacted by the persons themselves and not presented through narrative;

through a course of pity and fear completing the purification (catharsis, sometimes translated "purgation") of such emotions.

"imitation" (mimesis): Contrary to Plato, Aristotle asserts that the artist does not just copy the shifting appearances of the world, but rather imitates or represents Reality itself, and gives form and meaning to that Reality. In so doing, the artist gives shape to the universal, not the accidental. Poetry, Aristotle says, is "a more philosophical and serious business than history; for poetry speaks more of universals, history of particulars."

"an action with serious implications": serious in the sense that it best raises and purifies pity and fear; serious in a moral, psychological, and social sense.

"complete and possesses magnitude": not just a series of episodes, but a whole with a beginning, a middle, and an end. The idea of imitation is important here; the artist does not just slavishly copy everything related to an action, but selects (represents) only those aspects which give form to universal truths.

"language sensuously attractive...in the parts": language must be appropriate for each part of the play: choruses are in a different meter and rhythm and more melodious than spoken parts.

tragedy (as opposed to epic) relies on an enactment (dramatic performance) not on "narrative" (the author telling a story).

"purification" (catharsis): tragedy first raises (it does not create) the emotions of pity and fear, then purifies or purges them. Whether Aristotle means to say that this purification takes place only within the action of the play, or whether he thinks that the audience also undergoes a cathartic experience, is still hotly debated. One scholar, Gerald Else, says that tragedy purifies "whatever is 'filthy' or 'polluted' in the pathos, the tragic act" (98). Others say that the play arouses emotions of pity and fear in the spectator and then purifies them (reduces them to beneficent order and proportion) or purges them (expels them from his/her emotional system).

Writing your Tragic Hero (According to Aristotle)

The tragic hero is "a [great] man who is neither a paragon of virtue and justice nor undergoes the change to misfortune through any real badness or wickedness but because of some mistake."

a great man: "one of those who stand in great repute and prosperity, like Oedipus and Thyestes: conspicuous men from families of that kind." The hero is neither a villain nor a model of perfection but is basically good and decent.

"mistake" (hamartia): This Greek word, which Aristotle uses only once in the Poetics, has also been translated as "flaw" or as "error." The great man falls through - though not entirely because of - some weakness of character, some moral blindness, or error. We should note that the gods also are in some sense responsible for the hero's fall.

Writing your Plot (According to Aristotle)

Aristotle distinguished 6 elements of tragedy:

Plot

Characters

Verbal expression

Thought

Visual adornment

Song-composition

Of these, PLOT is the most important.

The best tragic plot is single and complex, rather than double ("with opposite endings for good and bad" - a characteristic of comedy in which the good are rewarded and the wicked punished). All plots have some pathos (suffering), but a complex plot includes reversal and recognition.

"Reversal" (peripeteia): occurs when a situation seems to developing in one direction, then suddenly "reverses" to another. For example, when Oedipus first hears of the death of Polybus (his supposed father), the news at first seems good, but then is revealed to be disastrous.

"Recognition" (anagnorisis or "knowing again" or "knowing back" or "knowing throughout" ): a change from ignorance to awareness of a bond of love or hate. For example, Oedipus kills his father in ignorance and then learns of his true relationship to the King of Thebes. Recognition scenes in tragedy are of some horrible event or secret, while those in comedy usually reunite long-lost relatives or friends. A plot with tragic reversals and recognitions best arouses pity and fear.

"Suffering" (pathos): Also translated as "a calamity," the third element of plot is "a destructive or painful act." The English words "sympathy," "empathy," and "apathy" (literally, absence of suffering) all stem from this Greek word.

ORIGINS. Tragedy's origins are obscure, but it apparently started with the singing of a choral lyric (called the dithyramb) in honor of Dionysus.

It was performed in a circular dancing-place (orchestra) by a group of men who may have impersonated satyrs by wearing masks and dressing in goat-skins.

The Greek word tragoedia means "goat-song." Eventually, the content of the dithyramb was widened to any mythological or heroic story, and an actor was introduced to answer questions posed by the choral group.

The Greek word for actor is hypokrites, which literally means "answerer." It is the source for our English word "hypocrite."

Tragedy was recognized as an official state cult in Athens in 534 BC.

According to tradition, the playwright Aeschylus added a second actor and Sophocles added a third.

"Tragedies" written in the 5th century often contain humorous scenes, melodramatic episodes and wild plot twists. So, readers today embarking on a study of classical drama must discard their preconceptions about what constitutes tragic drama, and especially the notion that Greek tragedy always entails a gloomy outlook on life, featuring long-winded old men wound up in sheets who wail at length about the evils of fortune and fate. It simply isn't so.

Greek tragedy is a powerful and profound form of storytelling, which explores the complexities of the human condition through vivid language and striking narratives.

These plays often depict the tragic downfall of their main characters, brought about by their own flaws and failings.

Through this exploration of human nature, Greek tragedy invites audiences to confront and contemplate the many nuances of human existence, including the dangers of unchecked pride and ambition.

Sophocles, Euripides, and Aeschylus, the most influential Greek tragedians, wrote during the 5th century BCE.

Their works continue to captivate and move audiences today, offering a timeless examination of the human experience and the universal struggles we all face.

Examples: Ancient Greek Tragedies

Oedipus Rex by Sophocles. A haunting tale tackling the concepts of fate and free will. Set in the city of Thebes, the play tells the story of King Oedipus, who is determined to uncover the truth behind a plague that has befallen his city. As he unravels the mystery, Oedipus discovers that he is the very source of the plague, having unknowingly killed his own father and married his mother. Faced with the truth of his actions, Oedipus blinds himself and is exiled from Thebes, while his wife and mother, Jocasta, takes her own life. Through Oedipus’ tragic downfall, Sophocles explores the consequences of pride and the limits of human knowledge. The play’s haunting conclusion reminds us of the power of fate and the fragility of human existence.

Antigone by Sophocles. In the aftermath of the events in Oedipus Rex, Sophocles’ Antigone explores the disastrous consequences of a family divided by power and ambition. The play centers around the conflict between Antigone, the daughter of Oedipus, and her uncle Creon, who has taken the throne following the deaths of her two brothers in a power struggle. When Creon decrees that only Eteocles should be buried, Antigone defies him and buries her brother Polynices, driven by her sense of duty to the gods and her family. Her act of rebellion sets off a tragic chain of events, resulting in the deaths of Antigone, her betrothed Haemon, and Creon’s wife, Eurydice. Sophocles’ Antigone raises powerful questions about the nature of justice, family loyalty, and the limits of state power, ultimately offering a sobering lesson on the destructive consequences of unchecked pride and authority.

Medea by Euripides. The play begins with Medea, a woman scorned and exiled by her husband Jason, consumed by grief and anger. As she contemplates her loss of status and position in society, Medea resolves to take revenge on Jason, aided by Aegeus, the king of Athens, who offers her refuge. Medea pretends to reconcile with Jason and sends a poisoned gift to his new bride and Creon, causing their gruesome death. With her vengeance incomplete, Medea then turns to her children, killing them in a fit of rage, justifying her actions as necessary to punish Jason. Jason, devastated by the loss of his children, confronts Medea, but she remains unrepentant. The play concludes with Medea escaping the scene in a chariot sent by her grandfather, the sun god Helios, leaving Jason broken and alone. The audience is left to judge the morality of Medea’s actions and the tragic consequences of her pursuit of revenge.

Prometheus Bound by Aeschylus. Delves into the story of Prometheus, a Titan who rebels against the gods by stealing fire from them and gifting it to humankind, resulting in his eternal imprisonment. The play showcases Prometheus as a courageous hero, who stands up for his convictions and exhibits unwavering love for humanity. Throughout the play, he encounters a variety of characters, such as his fellow Titans, the ocean nymphs, and even Zeus himself, all trying to sway him into submission and ask for forgiveness. However, Prometheus remains unyielding in his defiance, refusing to bend to the will of the gods and maintaining his rebellious spirit until the end.

The Trojan Women by Euripides. The play takes place during the downfall of Troy, as the Greek army ravages the city, slaughtering most of its male population, including King Priam and his sons. The women of Troy, among them Queen Hecuba, her daughter Cassandra, and Andromache, the wife of the Trojan hero Hector, are taken captive by the Greeks and forced to await their fate. In this tragic tale, Euripides delves into the devastating consequences of war on the women of Troy, who are stripped of their homes, families, and identities and are subjected to all sorts of different forms of abuse. These women grieve their losses and grapple with finding purpose and hope amidst their immense suffering. Hecuba emerges as a powerful symbol of the Trojan women’s resilience and fortitude as she confronts the Greeks and demands justice and dignity for herself and her people.

Some Character & Literary Tropes

Despair Event Horizon: The moment when it's already too late.

Died in Ignorance: Make a dramatically-ironic death worse by preventing the protagonist from ever knowing the truth at all.

Disproportionate Retribution: According to Aristotle, the protagonist must be punished for an error, but with the punishment spectacularly exceeding the crime.

Fatal Flaw: A key part of many tragic heroes, which leads them to commit their Tragic Mistake. Pride has been one of the most common since the Greeks.

Heel–Face Door-Slam: If the protagonist does notice his flaws, it's already too late.

Protagonist Journey to Villain: While the protagonist started out noble, only too late do they realize that they've gradually made the transition to becoming the villain of their own story.

Star-Crossed Lovers: Many tragic romances involve two people who want to be together but are doomed to be kept apart.

Tragic Mistake: Often called the hamartia, this is that one crucial mistake that sends everything crashing down.

Unintended Kinslayer: Not a few tragic heroes end up offing their own loved ones by mistake, often due to not recognizing them until it's too late.

You Can't Fight Fate: A fairly common theme.

Examples

Arcane: By the final scene in the final episode, Jinx has burned all her bridges, more or less permanently prevented peace between Piltover and Zaun, and made clear that she will never return to the innocent child she once was. It's a similar tragedy to that of Anakin Skywalker becoming Darth Vader, where a major character does not die physically, but undergoes a spiritual death instead. The tragedy isn't confined to Jinx, either. Just about every character in season 1 is doing what they think is their best in a bad situation, but their best simply isn't enough as Piltover and Zaun edge ever closer to war. As the final scene roles, the viewer can only watch as the last, best chance for peace is a split second from literally going up in flames.

The central character of Citizen Kane, a multimillionaire newspaper publisher with his very own private estate, ends up dying alone and unloved thanks to his narcissism.

Ian McEwan's Atonement follows a privileged upper class preteen called Briony Tallis. She essentially ruins several people's lives because of her arrogance and ignorance. Years later, when she finally realizes the full extent of what she's done, it's too late to make amends or fix her mistakes, because the affected parties have died partly due to her actions.

Little Shop of Horrors has several motifs of the Greek tragedy archetype - the singers Crystal, Chiffon, and Ornette representing the classic Greek chorus, and Seymour's arc mirrors that of several tragic Greek protagonists - to achieve his dreams, he first sacrifices his enemy (Orin Scrivello), then his father figure (Mr. Mushnik), then his love (Audrey) - and finally, when everything starts crashing down around him, himself.

The Godfather saga is an example of classical mafia tragedy. Michael Corleone's ruthlessness and vengeful ways eventually lead to his alienation from his family and his ultimate ruin.

There Will Be Blood is about a silver miner turned oilman who embarks on a ruthless quest for wealth during Southern California's early 20th century oil boom, along the way descending into madness to the point of alienating everybody around him, including his own son.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

You can find more tropes and examples in the sources for inspiration. Hope this helps with your writing!

[yandere-toons]

Matthew Patel

Romantic Headcanons - Yandere

WARNING: violence, death, implied stalking, mentions of religious concepts, toxic mindset.

From the moment you invite Matthew into your life, he will carry that memory to his deathbed. The bond you forged that day is unbreakable and immortal for him: he will go blind to all other reasons for living, consumed with rage at your absence, and ecstatic at any sign of your favour.

Talk of other suitors sends Matthew into a frenzy from which he will not emerge until this obstacle to his happiness is laid low. Dispute over the value of certain traits leaves Matthew resentful—of himself for not being better, of the other person for possessing what he lacks, and of the universe for cursing him with such horrid luck.

When such a person speaks your name, Matthew is driven by his own insecurities to loathe them. The sound of their voice becomes like a cheese grater to his ears, a reminder of how close he is to losing his world for the second time, and from thence into a sound he will fight to the death to silence.

The look of this person, particularly when they light up at the mere mention of you and receive such a look in kind, is a ghastly thing. Matthew's takeaway is one of doubt and bad memories, of all the similarities to Ramona's waning interest that he had been too immature and inattentive to rectify. He vows not to make the same mistake twice.

Seemingly overnight, Matthew transforms from a brooding presence lurking in your shadow to a wellspring of offers to solve even the smallest of issues. He makes a habit of dropping to one knee and delivering a Pagliacci-esque soliloquy about how deep his affection runs, professing that you've become his whole world and that to lose you would leave him with nothing.

Despite your promise not to "betray" him, as Matthew so graciously puts it, he fears it would be a mistake to let his guard down. He believes you were sincere at the time, but Ramona's flippant attitude has left him anxious that you may change your tune and turn your back on him for no apparent reason.

For years, Matthew sought answers as to why she hurt him: on bad days, he blames her for playing with his emotions; on worse days, he blames himself for not trying hard enough to become someone she wanted. Now that he has another shot at human connection, this earth will burn before it slips away from him.

Matthew's actions arise from a peculiar sense of justice: he views himself as retribution sent down upon all those who have wronged you. By daring to replace him, their way of looking after you is inherently and unforgivably flawed. Someone who could, in reality, be quite decent will devolve in his mind into a parasite who takes advantage of you.

Whether they are cruel or kind-hearted, what obsesses Matthew and keeps him stewing for potentially years is the notion that they've robbed him of his one chance at happiness. So long as they keep you company, he sees his future darkening.

What should be a private affair, Matthew turns into a spectacle: he takes to the stage in his most flamboyant attire and declares war, goading his enemy to meet their doom at his hand. Everything, from the venue to the battle itself, is a power play, a performance art in which he displays his prowess for all to admire and envy.

Once he has struck the first blow, there is no version of events where Matthew shows mercy or admits defeat. The harder they fight, the prouder he is to butcher them. Their death will be a triumph, a testament to the fact that he is strong enough to win this war. Anyone who rolls over in the face of his challenge must not be truly committed to you and therefore deserves to feel his wrath for stringing you along.

Coming to over the shiny remains of his enemy, Matthew forgets his rage and revells in the thought of having the sole being who brings him happiness. Ready to pick up where he left off and confident he's earned that right, Matthew throws himself at you and proclaims how thrilled he is to be together again.

Matthew struggles to move beyond the past and to envision a future where he is alone. Having spent much of his life pursuing others, Matthew has no concept of living for himself. He stakes his survival on the volume of applause at the end of every performance, and in the home environment, his tendency to cling to petty recognition has taken root in all interactions.

This emotional hunger reveals itself in the unnecessary extremes to which Matthew proves his devotion, convinced that the obsequious nature of his company and continual sacrifices gives them meaning. He jumps at every opportunity to be near you, no exceptions, afraid that missing even one will be termed neglect and spell the ruin of his life with you.

At his best, Matthew is an unrelenting thespian who serenades you with ballads and calligraphic poetry. But at his worst, he is an unstable and violent creature full of pent-up rage, who conspires with Daemonettes to bind your soul to his, making it virtually impossible to give him up for another.

[eerielamb]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐄𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐫𝐲 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 ˚⋆｡☆

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: first work on my new blog is something a lil extra taboo! this wouldn’t exist without the lovely @hauntedfawnn bringing the concept to my attention and encouraging me to post this, thank you sweet angel for always being my biggest cheerleader!!♡·˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dom!rafe, sub!reader, afab reader, watersports (a.k.a piss kink), omorashi (bladder control), dubcon, oral sex, cowgirl, forced orgasm, degradation, dacryphillia, porn mentions, slight praise

if this isn’t your thing, please just keep scrolling! the great thing about kink is that there’s something for everyone, if this particular one isn’t for you, i encourage you to find something else that is!

𝐒𝟏 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 ~ the moment the salacious request leaves your lips he’s looking at you as if you’d suddenly grown a second head, but after a moment to process, he’s excited yet apprehensive. he hesitantly agrees, having you sit on the toilet with your thighs spread as wide as you can, your pussy on full display for him as he holds his dick, aiming his stream to hit your upper thighs a little bit before hitting your cunt, mesmerized by the way it drips down your folds, that sight alone affirming it for him.

𝐒𝟐 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 ~ that man is GROSS. he knows more about it than you do and practically pushes you to your knees right then and there when you ask. he’s mean, taking your request full throttle, starting with pissing on you until your shirt is soaked and calling you all sorts of degrading names as he finds increasingly humiliating ways to incorporate it into your sex life. he has you jerk him off while he pisses into your mouth, getting off on your tears when he calls you a nasty whore and slaps you for letting some dribble out of your mouth. he’ll fuck your mouth after, reveling in your obscene gagging until he’s about to cum, abruptly pulling out of your mouth to shoot his load all over your face, a mess of cum, tears, and piss dripping down onto your chest. eventually he suggests pissing IN you after seeing it in some sleazy porn he found online.

𝐒𝟑 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 ~ he’s open immediately, having seen porn of it before and has been curious to try it himself, so your request doesn’t phase him as much as you thought it would. he’s not one to take things at face value though, always looking for a way to improve upon ideas, so he makes you work for it. he uses the hold he has on you to his advantage, making you quite literally beg for him to give you his piss. he requires you to degrade yourself a little before giving it to you, and will praise you to the moon and back after for being such an obedient angel for him.

𝐒𝟒 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 ~ this rafe is thorough, he’s learned that acting on impulse doesn’t always get him what he wants, so though he agrees, he’s also doing research immediately. through that research, he finds out water sports isn’t just pissing on/being pissed on, it’s about control and humiliation too, which he finds great pleasure in. he’ll piss on you like you so sweetly asked him to, but only if you obey his rules throughout the day. he controls when YOU go to the bathroom, making you hold it if you’ve been naughty, until you’re begging him to let you go. one day he times things so he knows you’ll have to go while you’re riding him, him pushing you to cum again even though you’re telling him you can’t hold it anymore, and he just doesn’t care, continuing to hold your hips and fuck up into you until you lose it and cum again, simultaneously letting your piss out all over his stomach and thighs, the release so intense that you don’t know wether to cry or thank him, so you do both until he’s carrying you to the bath and soothing you all sweetly for being so good for him. you’re his lil piss princess and he loves having you rely so heavily on him for such a basic human function, it makes him feel responsible for you, and he wants nothing more than to take care of you in any way he can.

~

please message me, comment, or send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged in my future rafe works!

[otsukare-katsukare]

The AEW Wrestling Tarot

unfortunately im back on my wrestling tarot bullshit again (aew only edition this time). my supercard pack never arrived :( so i have to make my own fun. and even worse ive started drawing recreationally again which means theres a chance i may actually try to make this oh dear. anyway. i think i finally, finally have a major arcana im satisfied with and im ready for this to be another 0 note classic but truly if anybody has thoughts and opinions, i wanna hear them:

The Fool: Harley Cameron. I feel like I was waiting so long for a perfect Fool wrestler to appear and no one had quite the right combination of wide-eyed innocent glee, creativity and clear stonking potential. Harley has Jester Qualities, she basically annoyed her way into a TNT title match, she is a woman of many talents most of them creative and entertaining, she's funny, she's original and most importantly she's only just getting started. Godspeed dear Fool.

The Magician: The only reason it's not Kenny is because he's needed elsewhere but really, Will Ospreay is a good fit for this. again, aesthetically it works cause he's got that Assassins Creed overcoat and when he puts his hands out idk it's giving wizard a bit. and then there's the way he's mastered the craft, and is able to produce acts of what look like pure witchcraft with scientific precision. pure confidence, skill and the right amount of hubris to make this very Magician-coded.

The High Priestess: Hear me Out. Renee Paquette. This was the hardest one, even when I was doing this for WWE, AEW and any other active wrestlers I could think of. it's just not a wrestling personality profile, "divine feminine" and inner wisdom and truth and clarity and detachment. clearly there's a gap in the market for this kind of character in wrestling, but so far and at least in aew, all I've seen from the wrestlers themselves are action-oriented hot heads who do very little if any introspection. and it's not quite that Renee does that introspection herself, but she is the conduit for it, right? she is the closest they have to an unbiased truth seeker. despite being literally married to one of the most violent and unhinged members of the roster! whenever revelations are had, parts of the inner worlds of these people that they may have otherwise never shown, either she coaxes it out of them or it happens in her presence. i need to unravel it a bit more but I like this for her I think. and again if anyone has a better high priestess i am all ears.

The Emperess: Emi Sakura. Not a whole lot to this choice other than Emi being the nurturer of the roster, the closest to both a "mom" and someone who actively helps bring the next generation of wrestlers to fruition, like the Empress tending her garden and many children.

The Emperor: Christian Cage, again this is a pretty open and shut book I think, he's literally called the Patriarch. Don Callis also came to mind for this, but Cage has a much more explicit Obey Your Father thing going on, Don is quite openly much more of a blatant opportunist.

The Hierophant: One of my revelations after much soul searching today. It's Bryan Danielson, and the BCC as a whole, as it was originally meant to be, an ideology of wrestling that was supposed to bring it back to its simple, glorious roots. Bryan, like some of these nurturers before him, has focused much more on the future of wrestling than himself, eager to leave a mark on it by virtue of creating the next generation in his image. He also carries this reverance around him, particularly from a subset of the fandom with quite pointed views about what wrestling is/should be - but he himself is sort of painfully human, emphatically not the god of wrestling but a vessel for divine teaching. or something.

The Lovers: Kenny Omega and Kota Ibushi do I really have to explain myself here. I don't but if you're even reading this post I bet you scrolled to this point just to check I made them the lovers so you'll want something. There are no soulmates in wrestling like these two. No two who, while having completely distinct and phenomenal careers of their own, have told such a long, aching story of love transcending time and space and circumstance, of waiting for each other and holding onto that love, and of having been transformed by each other, inspired to be their best selves. all that could be their story without it also being an explicitly queer love story by the way, but that's also what it is. i cant go on anymore my feelings are getting mushy

The Chariot: Mercedes Mone. FOUR BELTS MONE BABY! RIDE the mone train. Etc. The Chariot is a triumphant victory lap, rubbing it in the faces of your enemies that you made it suckaahs. is one of those cards that could sort of be any wrestler who's "made it" really, and Mercedes hasnt even won the Women's World Championship yet, but she so perfectly exemplifies the spirit of this card, the sheer domineering ego and bombastic success of it. Truly a Girlboss Card. And her chariot's still a-rolling!

Strength: Eddie Kingston. Strength is about heart above all. Also very hard to pin down to one passionate babyface, one underdog who forges a deep emotional connection with the audience that carries them through their fight, one wrestler who just emanates that inspiring strength of body and mind and soul, but Eddie feels right here. hardened on the outside by a cruel world, but the beating heart of the whole place underneath that. grounded, relatable, honest and good in his soul. Specifically, his journey to winning the Continental Classic is on my mind here as a classic Strength story in wrestling.

The Hermit: Darby Allin. A late switchup here, as I had Darby as Death for a long time, mostly for aesthetic reasons. but really, he is the quiet loner who hangs back, who only ever found kinship with another loner like him. The Hermit is a card about solitude and reflection and, respectfully, Darby is currently literally away on a months-long journey of self-improvement up Mount Everest. Only a Hermit Wrestler could do that. Don't know if he's going to have gotten any wiser by the time he comes back and if he'll stop throwing himself off genuinely dangerous apparatus, but we will see!

The Wheel of Fortune: Moving from just wrestlers to more conceptual cards, this is The Elite but it's also specifically them as the catalyst for AEW. Wheel of Fortune is about the winds of change and upheaval, exciting new fortunate things on the horizon, luck that may just be on your side. The Elite, quite famously, made a bet, on themselves. It's paid off. But if not the Elite as a whole, this feels particulalry like the Young Bucks' card, those defiant agents of chaos who changed the whole industry by taking risks.

Justice: It's Aubrey Edwards. Justice is fairness, law and order, cause and effect and action and consequence. Vengeance doesn't count, it's gotta be objective. Sorry wrestlers, none of you fit this at all, it has to go to a referee, and why not the top referee of the company?

The Hanged Man: Wheeler Yuta. Look. LOOK. Do you think I wanted it this way either. The Hanged Man is my favourite card, Hangman is my favourite wrestler, he look so pretty hanging upside down with his long blond hair all floating by his face but I'm sorry he's not the hanged man at all, Yuta is. It's a card of stasis, sacrifice, uncertainty, imprisonment - where is Yuta right now! He is completely wrapped up in those ropes, unable to move forward or backwards, made the sacrificial lamb again and again, told every time that the sacrifice is worth it, that all his bridges being burned is worth it, and yet never managing to win anything for himself. His arc will ultimately need him to break out of his prison.

Death: Jon Moxley. Another guy who has floated all around this arcana until, after moving Darby up to hermit status, I realised yeah this fits Mox way more actually. He is, I think, the wrestler whose resurrection in AEW after his previous life is most like a death, first of all. Danielson is the same as Daniel Bryan, Kenny's Kenny wherever he goes, but Dean Ambrose is dead. And Jon Moxley is haunted. He also seems to see himself like a kind of memento mori, especially now, taking a grim sort of pleasure in reminding his foes who get to big for their boots of their mortality. Starting with the aforementioned Danielson. More than any other, he is furious for change. Either change, adapt, or fall at his hands. That is Death if ever I saw it.

Temperance: Similar potential problems with this card as with the High Priestess, but fortunately, Orange Cassidy exists. The rock-solid calm of him, the sheer incongruousness of his blue-shaded serenity as he sidles up to the ring. He's not a perfect paragon of temeprance by any means, he summons fire when he needs it in almost every match, but moving him to real anger felt like like an accomplishment from Mox when it happened. A bad accomplishment. He's as temperate as wrestlers get, I think, and he seems to spread that even keel to the people he spends time with, like the wrestling version of a capybara.

The Devil: MJF. Next.

The Tower: This one's also more of an event than a single wrestler (mostly cause making any one wrestler The Tower feels like a dig, like your thing is crashing and burning spectacularly. Owch) but it belongs mostly to Swerve Strickland and the visual of his house going up in flames, with everything in that hellishly destructive feud that represents. It's really what they did to each other more than just what Hangman did to Swerve that night, and the imagery of houses and homes (invaded, immolated, claimed) running through their feud really fits the Tower aesthetically as well.

The Star: Toni Storm! There's once again an aesthetic bonus because she is a starlet of course. I've historically found The Star a little difficult to differentiate from Strength when applying it to wrestling, both seem to invite those hope-inspiring underdog stories. But having it be represented by Toni I think brings out the more artistic, inspirational aspect of the Star, and the sense that it's really about faith. There's the faith Toni has in herself, in the story she tells about herself, that ultimately becomes true in a strange way only possible in wrestling, and then there's the faith she ultimately inspires in all of us. May she shine on forever.

The Moon: when i first was putting this together, it was Malakai Black and the House of Black, but now it's Julia Hart. The Moon is mystery, the unknown that lies in the shadows, as well as lunar insanity, giving into your darker, hidden self. The black mist is very moon-ish, and Julia seems to embody the witchy, unnerving demonic quality of this card the most. *

The Sun: Willow Nightingale. Sun's all about optimism and celebrating life. This is a vibes card, and I just needed to think who is the sunniest wrestler on the roster? and it was quite an easy pick, really. Whoever's smile is the most radiant is a good hint.

Judgement: Here's Adam Page. Judgement is revelation, a calling, rising up to meet your destiny and embrace the change, redemption, forgiveness. In other words, it's main character shit. And it's exactly the story that Hangman has been telling since he got here. He basically did complete it at Full Gear 2021 when he won the AEW title, and that's the image that this card would draw on, but he's just now embarking on what might be an even greater redemption arc, one that sees him rediscover himself having gone down a far darker parth than he ever did before.

The World: EITHER this is the AEW World Championship or it's Sting's retirement match. I'm kind of leaning towards the latter for something more heartfelt and specific that really communicates this card's meaning of completion, accomplishment and endings.

*there's another very different route one could go down for the Moon, which also means deception, false identity and betrayal - in which case this is Adam Cole lmao. He's not very Moon-ish in his aesthetic though, and aesthetic is quite important in these matters.

[coyotelip]

``☆|| rosekiller microfic: vampire || @rosekillermicrofic || vampire!evan & ghost!barty, doomed by the narrative || wc: 605

The rumble of an empty stomach breaks the silence of the dusty room in the old mansion.

“I didn't know you could do that,” Barty's semi-transparent head pokes out from among the cushions on the worn wine-colored sofa.

Sprawled out on the same chair next to him, Evan doesn't look up, continuing to stare at the ceiling and not at all surprised by the sudden appearance of a ghost in the room.

The boy's stomach reminds him again of the piercing hunger that he has been trying to ignore for the past few days. Finally he replies, “Well, be glad you learned something new. A vampire stomach can also wail with hunger, what a revelation,” the vampire's voice is not so much sarcastic as tired. Today he is not in the mood for joking with his pet ghost.

“Well, it's just… so… human, you know? To make stupid noises when your body is unhappy about something,” Barty's semi-transparent body floats out of the pillows completely, he folds his arms on the back of the couch and rests his head on them, looking at Evan.

Evan wonders if he should tell him that he can also fart. But he decides to leave it for when his insides aren't pierced by raging hunger. “Unfortunately, I'm quite humanly dependent on food, even if we have different diets.”

“Then go and catch some poor bastard walking along the canal looking for a booze, what's the problem?”

A heavy exhale escapes Evan's dry lips, and he flicks his tongue over them to moisten it, “I'm already sick of the idea of touching their dirty bodies, let alone putting my mouth on them.”

Evan longs for the glorious years when vampires were like the nobility of society and the carriers of the most delicious blood in all of England came to his house voluntarily, giving their blood and being honored. But at these memories, Evan's stomach only responds with another rumble.

“Then drink from me,” Barty says, and suddenly he is standing right in front of Evan. His weightless body is hovering above the floor, and a little more and he would have ended up in Evan's lap or passed right through him. With one hand, Barty pulls back the collar of his shirt, revealing a thin, pale neck.

A neck that Evan would love to sink his fangs into if he could. But, “You're a ghost, you dumbass. You have zero nutrition or even fluids. I can't even touch you, because if I could, I'd have ripped your throat out long ago to shut you up,” and the hunger makes Evan's tone sound harsher than he would have liked, but there is no offense in Barty's eyes.

On the contrary, the smile on his lips widens, “Oh, I wish I could feel that,” Barty's voice sounds as casual and playful as ever, but it's impossible not to notice the wistful notes of a boy that hasn't felt a single touch in years.

Evan has become used to the fact that of all the mansions around him, Barty has chosen his dusty and empty home to haunt him for the rest of their immortal existence.

But still, once again, he is pierced by the bitter feeling of how irrational their union is. The vampire who would like to bite into that thin neck and never touch the other, but is doomed to only watch the semi-transparent body he can not feel. And a ghost who would like to feel someone's hands on him again, but the whole world around is now nothing but a thickness of water through which he swims endlessly.

heyyyyy that's a full fic now, check it out ☆

[centaurianthropology]

NYbN Belated Meta: Isaac and Fuego (Season 1 Retrospective Spoilers)

Since watching the season 1 retrospective on ‘New York by Night’ on the Project Ghostlight patreon, two things have been spinning through my head like rotisserie chickens for the past while.  One of them is outright stated, one is far more implied, but I am gnawing on them, fascinated by them, desperately needing to write meta about them so I can get all my thoughts down.

Now, below the cut are two things I either learned or realized while watching the retrospective.  That means that there are spoilers for said retrospective.  If you’re a fan of NYbN and want to read this, I seriously urge you to go and sign up for the Patreon and watch the retrospective first!  I do not want to make people feel like the information below the cut is in any way a replacement for the massive amount of information you get from that.  It’s two things.  Essentially a taster for the feast that lies one Patreon subscription away.

Cool?  Cool.  Let’s get into this.

Okay, let’s start with what may be my favorite revelation from the retrospective, that makes such sense once you know it:

Isaac’s hoarde is people.

This is such a cool concept for a Tzimisce!  There are so many ways it can be fucked up, and so many ways it forces the player and the character to act as a team player far more than the Tzimisce might be wont to do otherwise.  It is simultaneously monstrous and an enormous weakness, and that is such a great way to set up a character.

It also recontextualizes so many of his actions once you realize this.  It not only plays into his position as running a protection racket and craving prey that need things from him, but his particular attachments to Michal and Angela make so much more sense.  They were real life colleagues and the closest things he had to friends, who then became the first people in his hoarde.  His fierce protectiveness of them also makes so much sense in this context, as people messing with Michael or Angela are people messing with what is HIS. 

Particularly after finding out that he’s more or less incapable of feeling most human emotions, I find it super fascinating that his Beast probably feels far more than Issac would on his own.  That possessiveness his Beast has is possibly the closest he’s ever felt to real love or friendship (all twisted by wanting to own the people his Beast decides to latch onto, adding a real layer of horror to all his relationships), which makes Isaac the inverse to a lot of Kindred: his Beast almost makes him more human, giving him more of a sense of human emotions and attachments than he might have ever had otherwise.

That puts him in a really unique position: he is particularly weak to social needs.  And nowhere is it more obvious than with his coterie.  The second they were all paired off by Richter, Isaac essentially looked at these three other vampires and decided that they were now part of his hoarde.  I once said Serif was the first of them to really embrace being a coterie, but she wasn’t.  Isaac was, just in far more subtle ways.  Despite Fuego having a car, he insists on having Michael drive the coterie as a group; he even has Michael get the minivan especially to accommodate his coterie.  He invites them to his house quite quickly.  Many Tzimisce never invite people to their houses, because they don’t want people touching their things or messing with them.  But of course Isaac invited them over: his hoarde needs to be in his house, so they each now have rooms he’s laid aside for them.  He logically knows that, as Kindred, he can’t just force them to stay with him (although he’d try it), so he needs them to want it.  He has to be an actual friend to them to get his hoarde to stick around. 

And that, interestingly, adds another layer to Rey’s betrayal in the finale.  Because not only is Isaac pissed that he almost sold them out to the Camarilla, but he is suddenly in danger of losing a part of his hoarde.  He may find Rey to be irritating almost constantly, but Rey is also his, and Rey wanting to leave them for the Camarilla?

Unacceptable.  Isaac immediately tries to convince Rey that the Camarilla would never take him, or even if they did, they’d never let him forget what he was.  And this isn’t even necessarily a lie.  Isaac is a master of using limited truths to get what he wants; he rarely outright lies, particularly to his coterie.  He simply deploys limited facts in the best configuration to get them to decide to play things his way.

And this is where we get to my second revelation, not outright stated, but more observed throughout the retrospective: Aabria and Alex made incredibly similar characters.  Isaac and Fuego are both both overtly and far more subtely manipulators.  They are both inherently social, both need people to function.  And they are both very territorial when it comes to getting and keeping the people they’ve chosen.

We’ve already talked about Isaac’s need for other people, but Fuego’s is all about how she was built.  Aabria explained that she was an exploration of soft power.  Aabria looked at how many people looked at the Ventrue as craving power and interpreted in a very patriarchal ‘I’m going to be the boss’ way, so she decided to explore ultra-femininity and subtle power.  She was a community organizer, bound to others and to the network of  a community since she was a child.  She gets her control through getting others to give her what she wants by convincing them it was their idea in the first place.  Fuego is built to be the power behind the throne, but that requires that another ass be seated in that chair.  So she needs people nearly as much as Isaac does, but because it’s less of a compulsion for her (leaving aside the revelations about Fuego and blood bonds, because THAT is a whole different discussion), she’s able to be more clear-headed about it. 

I loved learning how quickly Fuego clocked what Isaac was about and started feeding into it.  I took it for granted that Fuego’s lack of knowledge about Kindred society was genuine, but I now we know it at least in part was an act.  Certainly, she has genuine gaps in her understanding, but I she exaggerated her ignorance, because playing young and dumb is a great way to seem non-threatening, and to assess people around her without letting them know.

And knowing that, you can see her trying to figure Isaac out from the jump.  When he offers them a ride, despite her explicitly telling him she has a car, she immediately asks if she owes him something.  She phrases it like she doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but Fuego clearly knows about boons.  She’s trying to figure out if he’s boon-fishing by this car-ride, and she’s trying to figure out how honest he’ll be if he thinks no one has any knowledge but him.

And in that scene a few important things happen.  Isaac explains Boons without using the word, but at least gives them a broad—and more importantly accurate—portrayal of what would and wouldn’t incur a boon.  He also makes clear that this is just on his way.  It’s practical.

And that gives Fuego a lot to chew on.  Isaac is trustworthy, at least to an extent.  But if he’s not after boons, he has to be after something else.  And then he offers them rooms at his place (despite both Rey and Fuego actually having really nice places of their own).  And then he keeps offering them accurate information, but no more than they ask for.  He keeps trying to lure them to stick around.

And she’s got him clocked, at least sort of: he wants them to be around him.  And more specifically, he wants they themselves, rather than anything they have or could bring him.  She figures out Isaac wants to be the guy with the knowledge first, and keeps on with the ignorant-baby-Kindred act.  I’m not sure if she’s also realized his far more base need to have them around him as often as possible, but she has to suspect something like it.  Even by their first big argument, her punishment for Isaac being an asshole about her murdering a security guard is to choose to walk home, to choose to not only refuse a ride from him, but to absent herself from his presence.

I seriously hope that season 3 does someday happen, because I desperately want to see how Isaac and Fuego’s relationship evolves.  I want Isaac to finally lose his cool and try to dominate his ‘friends’ into not leaving him.  I want Fuego to finally drop the ignorant act and let him know exactly what she knows and how long she’s known it.  I want them to be forced to lay their cards on the table, to get into a situation where they finally see one another without the masks. 

It’s hard to say how that would work out. 

They could fall apart.  They’re both so poisonous.  Isaac’s need to keep the coterie around is so extreme it’s forever threatening to spill over into dangerous and toxic territory.  Fuego has to be secretly in control and gets furious when she either loses power or is forced to confront how low down the totem-pole she really is.  They could so easily be oil and water once they finally see one another as they truly are and understand the depths to which each would sink for what they want.

Or they could get closer.  The level of respect that they might be able to develop if they ever saw eye to eye could make them a terrifyingly adept duo.  If game finally recognized game, and they both understood how well they played the exact same field, they might be able to get over their differences and find ways to work around their mutual issues of pride and control to be a power to rival anything in the Bronx.

Hell, even a four-way mutual blood bond seems entirely possible with the mess of ugly co-dependency and family issues swimming around the Minivanarchs.  Isaac explicitly wanted everyone blood bonded to him, because that was a way to get them them to want to stay with him without ever having to force the issue.  Fuego has complicated addiction-flavored relationships with blood bonds, and has a need for community.  Rey might bind himself to everyone either to protect them or as a way to get them to accept him again, if he decided to go that route.  And Serif is made of endless family issues, craving a true connection not poisoned the way her connection to Argus and her mother is.  And if anyone could make Isaac blood bond himself to the group, it would be a fully-informed Fuego knowing how much he needed them all to stick together.

It could be glorious.  It could be terrible.  It would probably be the prettiest trainwreck of four needy assholes needing one another to death you’d ever seen.  And I hope that someday I get to see how it plays out.

[homelanderbutbig]

Perfect Just The Way You Are (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1910 words. Pure fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

Homelander needs some serious TLC, even if he can't properly fit inside your house.

It's late in the evening, a quiet one for you. You're alone in your own house, eyes glued to your phone while you plod away mindlessly in the kitchen.

Today is Homelander's birthday, or at least the day Vought has chosen for him. He's made remarks about how it's not his real birthday, but you've never been able to get him to tell you much more than that.

He's been out all day, flying throughout the city for the schedule Vought laid out for him. Doing meet-and-greets, photoshoots, interviews, staged saves, the whole shebang. And his revelries conclude with a televised event celebrating his birthday. Since your relationship with him is still a secret, you weren't able to join him in the festivities. You promised you'd be watching the event, cheering your boyfriend on the whole time. But as the night progresses, you begin to discern the way his smile seems a tad too forced, his restless eyes betraying the cheery grin plastered across his face. You imagine as much as he likes it, being paraded around for hours with no breaks would be draining for even a normal man.

He's talked to you before about his mixed feelings towards the public; on one hand, he revels in the adoration his fans shower him in. He lives and breathes for praise, it's all he's ever known. And yet, he is always acutely aware of their fear in his presence. Everyone he meets is significantly shorter than him, even those who would be considered 'tall' by human standards.

And these feelings are amplified on his birthday, where he is forced to face his insecurities on live television. With the world's eyes solely on him, dissecting him.

On his inhuman size.

"Thanks for watching everyone, goodnight! God bless America!" Homelander salutes the audience, as the event concludes with uproarious applause. You can't help but grin at his showmanship, he just has such a way with crowds. As the event switches to listing its various sponsors, you turn your phone off and wonder what to do next. Should you call him? Catch a taxi back to Vought Tower?

Suddenly, your questions are answered as you hear the recognizable sound of Homelander touching down. Opening the front door, you see him standing on your lawn, dimly lit by the streetlights behind his form. His face is a bit hard to make out in the dark, but it's pretty obvious even from his body language that he is incredibly stressed. With his birthday finally over, the weight of the day is crashing down on him. All he wants now is to be alone with you, to have your undivided love and attention.

However, as much as you want to invite him in, you realize his height is a couple feet taller than your front door and his shoulders are quite a bit wider than the door frame. He wouldn't be able to shimmy his way in without destroying your entrance and attracting nosy neighbours. Luckily, you're quick to think of another solution.

"Follow me honey," you say, closing the door and making your way to your patio entrance nearby the kitchen. It's a sliding door, which while the same height, is twice the width. He meets you there as you open the two panels for him, giving him a wide enough entrance to crawl through. A bit undignified for the leader of The Seven, to crawl on his hands and knees like a child, but he desperately needs to be with you in this moment.

Once inside, he nestles himself into the corner of your kitchen, sitting on the floor with his arms wrapped around his knees, a futile attempt to make himself smaller. It's as comfortable as he's going to get, in a space so tiny… in a normal space.

Usually, he does everything in his power to avoid going into buildings not accommodated for his height. Vought Tower was specifically designed to fit him, but the rest of the world is not. Even when he was younger in the lab, he had to bend down when he grew too tall to avoid the shorter ceilings. He always hated that, the constant reminder of his monstrous nature and how he will never be 'normal'.

And now here he is again, the claustrophobia creeping up his spine as he has to come to terms with his size. Your cramped kitchen might be fine for you, but he can't even stand up in here without breaking something.

After one last look outside to make sure nobody saw Homelander sneaking into your home, you lock the patio door and saunter over to the kitchen to see how your boyfriend is handling everything. And to be honest, you're not surprised to see him huddled in a corner dissociating. The two of you have never went anywhere else other than his penthouse, the sole place on earth built for him. You can't imagine what it's like to live an existence where everything is too small for you.

"Hey baby boy," you console him, snapping his attention back to you once you place your hand on his arm. "What's the matter?"

"I-I…" he stammers, swallowing hard as he fights back tears. He laments having to express his true feelings, admitting his faults. "I-I'm too big…"

You give him an understanding smile. It was bad enough that he had to endure his birthday being put on display for the world to gawk at him, now he has to curl up in a room not made for him just to be in your proximity.

"No you're not sweetheart. You're perfect just the way you are. If nobody else can see that, it's their loss," you reassure him, moving closer to his side to give his big head a hug. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, allowing your fingers to scratch at his undercut. He hesitates at first, but he rapidly relaxes into your affections. He inhales deep through his nose as he leans further into your chest; your scent and your heartbeat do wonders for his nerves.

Pulling away from him, you cup his cheek with your hand, feeling him gently rub into your palm. His expression is still exhausted, but his eyes shimmer with an unspoken appreciation to your compassion. You're the only one who makes him feel this way, the only person who truly cares for him and sees him for something more than just a giant freak.

"I baked you a cake, for your birthday," you explain. "But you can't have dessert until you have a proper dinner. Let me make you something quick, okay?"

Homelander watches silently as you scurry around the kitchen, filling a large pot with 3 litres of water and taking out three packets of Lipton chicken noodle soup mix from your cupboard. He knows you're just trying to be considerate, making sure he has enough to eat, but he can't help but tense his jaw knowing he can consume so much more than you. Just another reminder of how different he is from everyone else.

"This'll only take five minutes," you tell him, seeing him give you a brief nod before you turn back to keep an eye on the soup.

With you preoccupied, he decides to use his X-ray vision to look around the rest of your abode. It's not a shock to him that a simple human like yourself would operate under such a state of disarray; no place is complete without a stack of unread books, coffee cups left behind from days prior, and clothing thrown haphazardly on the ground. The way you live is a total juxtaposition to the order and neatness of his penthouse and by proxy his life. It's almost comical how he puts up with you. But at the same time, it's the mess that makes you human. He had that aspect beaten out of him as a child. He had to be 'perfect' as the world's greatest superhero, as Vought's poster boy. He was never allowed any opportunity to be anything else.

"Here you go," you abruptly pull him out of his thoughts, handing him the pot of soup with your oven mitts on. He grasps it without much thought, the heat from the stove not affecting him in the slightest. Ogling the strange concoction for a moment, he lifts the pot up to his mouth and quickly gulps down the soup. Its taste is peculiar, clearly manufactured… but somehow oddly comforting.

"Okay, now that you've eaten…" you begin, taking the pot back and leaving it in the sink. "Now it's time for dessert!"

He continues watching while you pull the cake out from your fridge. With a knife you cut two pieces and carry both plates over to where he sits, handing him the larger slice. It's a pretty plain cake considering the fancy affairs he's attended, but you made this for nobody else, it's purely for him. You poured your heart and soul into the batter, to express your love for him through food. Something nobody's ever done for him before, cooking for him not out of necessity but out of kindness.

"You can eat it hun, it doesn't taste that bad," you chuckle as you see him staring blankly at the cake. In the minute he's been eyeballing the dessert, you already finished yours. He blushes once he realizes he's just been contemplating the meaning it instead of eating it. Shaking off the awkwardness he picks up the piece of cake and fits the entire slice into his mouth. His tongue dances at the sweet taste, enraptured in a way he's never experienced. Sure, he's eaten cake before, but this is different. This was made special for his birthday.

You take the plate from him, putting the dishes into the sink before walking back over to him. He seems to be a lot calmer now, compared to when he first landed on your lawn.

"Happy birthday Homelander," you remark, kissing him. You feel him melt even further into your lips, placing one of his massive hands on your back. His fingers are strong, pulling you ever so closer to him, but still delicate enough that you feel safe with him. And that's all you've ever wanted, for him to be secure with his size around you, because you trust him. After you break from your kiss, you keep your forehead up against his. "How about we fly back to the penthouse and sleep together, huh? You can cuddle in my arms tonight."

"Hmmm… yeah. I'd like that," he hums happily, never one to pass up an opportunity to snuggle with you. "But… in a minute. I just… I just want to spend a little more time here."

It's a bizarre sensation to admit to. When he first entered your home he dreaded how miniscule it was compared to his size, but the longer he's been in here, those feelings switched entirely. He's come to notice the familiar scent of you permeating the walls, the way you've decorated each room with distinct keepsakes, how you've made this place an extension of yourself. A part of him never wants this moment to end, he wants to explore every inch of this house. Rummage through your knick knacks, flip through your photo albums, bury himself in your blankets.

He hopes sometime in the future, he can return here. And you can show him it all.

[slasherslittlesimp]

Paul Lahote- Unwanted

You stand alongside the Cullens, a bit nervous at the prospect of training to fight a newborn army that would be coming any day now for Bella. You yourself have only just recently been changed as you had gotten into a very serious accident, and in your pained hysteria begged Dr. Cullen not to let you die. The man took pity on you, and offered to change you so you could continue living albeit a bit differently as you would no longer be human. You agreed without fully thinking it through, simply wanting to not die. Ever since then you have been a part of the Cullen family, unable to return to your own.

Now you're being forced to fight in a war that has nothing to do with you, all to protect Edward's mate who you only just recently met. You have to admit that you're not particularly fond of the girl- mostly because she's putting you all in danger. Apparently it doesn't matter who dies as long as she lives. It almost feels as if you begged for your life for nothing. Like you chose to live just to die an even worse death. If you had known you would have to go to war against a bunch of powerful vampires, you would have just let yourself die, refusing to allow Carlisle to turn you. It's too late for regrets now, though.

As you stand outside along with the others, you watch as giant wolves slowly stalk out of the tree line. Your red eyes widen in awe as you watch them, all of them stopping quite a few yards away. Edward mentions something about them not trusting you all enough to be in their human forms, which you find quite understandable. You know that vampires are their natural enemies as Alice explained kindly upon you learning about them helping with the war. If you were a wolf, you would probably want to stay in your stronger form too.

As your widened red eyes wanders over them, you pause momentarily on one of them. The wolf is a pretty grey color, and their golden eyes are narrowed in distrust as they glare at all of you. The second your eyes meet, one word goes through your mind- mate. It seems the wolf feels it too as they freeze in place, seemingly shocked at the revelation. You snap out of it first, watching as the other wolves exchange looks with each other, emitting low whines.

"One of them just imprinted." Edward explains as he stares at the grey wolf, reading its mind along with the others. A grimace soon comes onto his face as the grey wolf suddenly growls, its nose scrunched up in displeasure. "He's not happy that they're a vampire."

Your heart sinks at the information, your gaze shifting to awkwardly stare at the ground as you wrap your arms around yourself. It's not like you asked to be a vampire. You just asked to not die, that's all. And Carlisle found that the only way to grant your desire was to turn you. You don't even like being a vampire that much. Sure, it's cool that you can run fast, see things better, and even sparkle in the sun. But you can't go out in public unless it's gloomy as hell and you can't survive without drinking the blood of animals which admittedly makes you feel quite bad and disgusted.

You pretty much zone out for the rest of the conversation, only zoning back in once it's your turn to practice fighting. You approach Jasper with apprehension, giving him a stiff smile as you stand in front of him. It's obviously that he knows how you're feeling from the pitying look he gives you for just half a second before his face returns to normal. You take a deep breath, ready to pretend that everything is fine and that you're not extremely disappointed in the fact that your soulmate hates you.

The fight begins quickly with you launching at Jasper, ready to take your frustrations out on the poor guy. Despite your increased speed and strength, he dodges pretty well, the two of you simply dancing around each other. You manage to land a few hits, knocking him back a bit but not enough to cause significant damage. It doesn't take very long for Jasper to pin you to the ground. You struggle against his grip, fighting to try and get back onto your feet. If he was a newborn, you would already be dead.

Somewhere nearby you hear a low growl and you instantly know who it is. For some reason, the idea of your mate feeling protective of you despite not wanting you pisses you off. Your eyes begin to glow a fierce blue as you glare up at Jasper, no longer seeing your family member above you in your rage. Jasper tries to move away as Edward yells out a warning but it's too late. A wave of blue mist explodes from your body, sending Jasper and anyone nearby flying backwards. When they all manage to get back onto their feet, they find you standing next to another you, the both of you seething with rage.

Jasper tries his best to calm you down with his abilities only to fail as you send a glare his way. Despite everyone begging with you to calm down, you turn and run away, your duplicate staying behind to keep them from following after you. And no matter how hard they try, the duplicate simply continues throwing them away whenever they get too close. It's only once you're far from the area that the duplicate fades away, allowing them to search for you but failing.

[coochellati]

Bruno Bucciarati: The Perfect Dominant

Have you ever imagined what it would be like to get dommed by Bruno Bucciarati?

Whether you’ve thought about it or not, take a moment to picture it.

Bruno is:

Confident.

Authoritative.

Assertive.

Empathetic.

…Isn’t it perfect?

It makes sense a leader like Bruno would naturally gravitate toward a more dominant role. Not to mention, his career has given him plenty of practice.

But it gets better. Bruno isn’t just someone who can play the part—he’s uniquely equipped with talents that make him second to none at bedroom dominance.

Keep reading for an in-depth analysis (with headcanons!) on why our beloved Zipper Daddy would be the dom of your dreams!

(If it wasn’t clear already—this is definitely 18+)

Bruno: The Sadistic Side

Before diving in, let’s clarify: not every dom is a sadist. However, I headcanon Bruno as one.

Even though this was (very much) not intended, Hirohiko Araki has made it clear that Bruno is quite capable of donning the mindset needed for this role.

Well, not only is Bruno “quite capable”—he’s a goddamn professional.

When interrogating Giorno, Bruno effortlessly adopts the role of a cold, ruthless interrogator. There’s a calculated cruelty in his actions as if he’s playing a game rather than conducting torture.

This isn’t surprising. Intimidation is part of his job, and years of experience have made Bruno exceptionally skilled at it.

In the bedroom, that sadistic edge translates to Bruno reveling in his partner’s reactions. He thrives on his partner’s surrender, growing more intoxicated as his dominance intensifies. (He may even make his partner call him by his last name as a way to “respect” his authority.) Bruno’s self-restraint would quickly slip away, no doubt this making lasting a challenging task for him.

The Human Lie Detector

Bruno Bucciarati is no ordinary dom. His unique skill set makes him exceptional— nobody possesses a toolkit quite like his.

No, I don’t mean “toolkit” like that—(heh.)

I’m talking about the range of enthralling tricks he has up his sleeve!

The self-proclaimed human lie detector can discern a liar using multiple methods, one such being his keen ability to read body language.

It’s clear he’s fluent in non-verbal communication—In the interrogation scene with Giorno, Bruno knew Giorno was lying before resorting to more… unconventional methods. After all, would he have placed Luca’s eye into an innocent person’s hand? (Which of course happened before Bruno licked him.)

And speaking of unconventional methods—yes, we have to talk about the sweat thing. ;)

Bruno’s ability to detect lies by taste is, let’s say, niche. The fact that he so casually licked Giorno implies it’s not his first time using this technique.

Maybe I’m a freak, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that the thought of Bruno dragging his tongue against my skin by really fucking hot. (I know I’m not the only person who feels this way—after all, you chose to read this…) Hoo boy—especially when you remember that your face isn’t the only body part that sweats.

(And according to MatPat, your face isn’t even the best part of your body to sample stress sweat from—It’s, uh… in other places. 😉)

Endowed with a sharp mind, Bruno has no trouble finding kinky uses for his lie detection, and because he’s skilled at torture, he knows just how to discipline a filthy liar. ;)

Here’s an excerpt from a drabble I wrote imagining how this scenario might go down:

He chuckles softly again and fixes his gaze on you, akin to that of a hungry predator. "Perfect," he purrs. "And of course, there'll be consequences if you're anything less than entirely truthful."

You feel your cheeks growing warm. "What kind of consequences?"

"I haven't decided yet," he wickedly smiles, the dancing spark in his eyes having ignited into a blazing flame. "It'll depend on the severity of your lie." 

A surge of adrenaline floods your veins, quickening your heartbeat. The bed shifts slightly as Bruno leans in dizzyingly close, stopping when his face is but an inch from yours.

"How does that make you feel?" he teases, his voice lowering to a seductive murmur. His warm breath kisses your skin. "Does this excite you?"

(read the full drabble here)

Kinky Fingers: The Ultimate Dom Tool

No discussion of Bruno’s dom potential is complete without addressing the elephant in the room:

That’s right! It’s his stand, 「Sticky Fingers.」

…Are you aware of how fucking much you can do with this stand ability? (Or how much fucking you can do!! ahahaha!!!… I’ll see myself out…)

No, really—I cannot emphasize enough how large the bedroom the potential is on this one. His stand opens up an entirely new realm of possibilities.

As you know, Sticky Fingers creates zippers on any surface it touches, allowing Bruno to attach, detach, and reconfigure objects (and people). We’ve already seen him use it to “restrain” Mario Zucchero by unzipping his head from his body.

Now think about how this ability translates to bondage.

Who needs ropes or cuffs when you can create custom restraints with zippers? Whether it’s immobilizing you to a surface, hogtying you with a flick of his wrist, or inventing entirely new ways to keep you at his mercy—Bruno’s creativity is unmatched.

And it doesn’t stop there. Sticky Fingers—I mean, Kinky Fingers—opens the door to a genre of kink that only Bruno could offer: zipper play.

With absolute control over his stand, Bruno could tease, restrain, or overwhelm his partner in ways that are impossible for anyone else. Once those zippers appear, no one else can remove them—your submission would be entirely his.

And now, I am proud to present a list of many kinky uses for Sticky Fingers:

Wouldn’t it be crazy to have your head zipped off only for your mouth to be used as a fleshlight? (Can you even begin to imagine that?)

My personal favorite use would have to be how he can disassemble your entire body… and then do whatever the fuck he wants. ;)

Again, maybe I’m a freak—but it sounds hot!

(I’ve also written an entire one shot about this, so if you’re interested in it, here’s the link! It’s kind of long and jam-packed with lots of Kinky Fingers action.)

Empathy and Non-Verbal Communication

Bruno Bucciarati isn’t just a skilled dom—what truly sets him apart is his empathy and attentiveness to his partner.

Being a good dom isn’t just about playing the role or mastering techniques; it’s about understanding and prioritizing your partner’s needs.

A great dom has the emotional awareness to recognize what their partner wants and ensures the experience is enjoyable for both parties—because if it’s not fun for both, it’s not fun at all.

Empathy is central to Bruno’s character. It’s his greatest strength and, at times, his greatest vulnerability. Without it, he simply wouldn’t be Bruno.

This deep empathy is perfectly complemented by his ability to read non-verbal communication—another crucial skill for a dom. You can’t create a fulfilling experience without understanding what your partner feels, even when they don’t say it aloud.

As discussed earlier, Bruno’s “human lie detector” instincts rely on sharp observation, especially his talent for reading body language.

Imagine how this skill would translate to the bedroom. Bruno would pick up on every subtle cue—every shift, hesitation, or unspoken need. Whether it’s meeting his partner’s desire or teasing out their secrets, this man would masterfully ensure the experience is as intense as it is unforgettable.

As you know, Bruno Bucciarati isn’t just any dom. His empathy, authority, and one-of-a-kind abilities make him an unmatched partner in both leadership and intimacy. Whether it’s through his sharp intuition or the limitless potential of Sticky Fingers, Bruno’s dominance would leave you both exhilarated and utterly spent.

Zipper Daddy supremacy.

Thank you for reading. I hope that my sermon has enlightened you. 💕

P.S. Thank you to @moody-bloos for suggesting this! I know this wasn’t probably what you had in mind, but since I am so incredibly passionate about this topic I wanted to go above and beyond…

The only thing I like more than sub Bruno is dom Bruno.

If you’d like to check out other things I’ve written, you can click right here <3

[eatmycodbetty]

Lockwood Iron Trio Holidays Headcanons...

I know nobody asked for this. And I KNOW I should be working on the third chapter of "You Again"...but the holidays have been busy and you all deserve something for the wait.

Take this hc list for the iron trio during christmas times. All just sfw fluffy goodness to appease the soul :p (plus some x reader for shits n gigs xx)

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Anthony Lockwood:

He isn't too used to being warm with others, but over the years he has gotten quite festive

The holidays tend to remind him the most that he does have a family, so it's a treasured time for him.

He has this one Christmas sweater that he wears the moment December rolls around that George gifted him one year.

Over the years Lucy and George have gifted him more sweaters so he doesn't wear that single one out, but he still tends to wear that one the most. He won't wear it for jobs, but at the house and off the record it's all he CAN wear it seems.

He will help to purchase decorations, but Lucy and George are really the ones to choose what is bought. He quietly enjoys this, they get really excited about which colors and motifs they should use for the year.

He'll help get out the tree and decorate the outside of the house, but the other two fuss too much about the details for him to worry about anything else.

He likes seeing their decorations, it makes him remember that there's other people in this house. He enjoys the comfort in knowing he's not alone and surrounded by people he truly cares about.

He will keep pretending to hate decorating just to see reminders of them dotted around the place.

Loves reindeer. Can't explain why, but he tends to have reindeer on any festive stuff he uses. That sweater he loves so much? You better believe it has a reindeer pattern on it. Bedsheets, mugs, slippers, anything- reindeer.

Favorite Christmas story? Rudolph. It's one of those pieces of nostalgia that doesn't make him sad, so he revels in the comfort of the oddly heartwarming story.

Even when he's wearing his suit out, he has Christmas socks on underneath TRUST

x gn!reader: He would stop at nothing to keep you warm. Even when you're just fine. Getting you a blanket, a jacket, HIS jacket, any warm drink your heart desires. He does it subconsciously but also he doesn't ever want you to be uncomfortable.

"No, no. I couldn't bear it if you caught a cold. I will be fine, I promise...just please put on the jacket, it is absolutely frigid."

Lucy Carlyle:

Loves to decorate with George (and annoy him because he can be a bit of a stickler when it comes down to it)

She likes to make little arts and crafts for the house and associates.

Little cards and the like are given throughout December whenever she feels like it. Kind of scrapbook-like and decorated well.

She goes to charity shops for SURE.

Little trinkets or dumb things will make their way onto George or Lockwood's desk with a little tinseled bow and notecard at random.

She is the least festive of the three, but at some point in their relationship she got comfortable with showing them that she does care during the holidays, because she tends to forget to say it most of the other time.

Her favorite holiday motif is a snowflake. Not because it is sensitive, but each one is so unique and pretty.

It's a nice reminder that there are natural and pretty things outside of the Problem.

She has a snowflake necklace that she rubs when nervous around the holidays.

Norrie gave it to her, and she stubbornly refuses to wear any other piece of jewelry during the colder months.

It's a simple silver charm, kind of like a comforting safety ward.

x gn!reader: She loves to go out and watch the lights that people put up. Something about the community aspect of everyone decorating their yards is admirable, and so she likes to be reminded of the lighter aspects of humanity. Long walks around London to see the lights whilst huddled together riddle your December.

"I wonder if they know that a few of their bulbs are out...OI! Where did your hand go??? It's too cold for you to escape me, come here!"

George Karim:

Will be way too serious about the Christmas dinner.

Like he HAS to make a great feast and it WILL taste amazing.

He would love if everyone helped out, but to be very honest anyone else in the kitchen tends to stress him out, so he's fine being the food-making freak each December.

Helps Lucy decorate, as he has done it for years before she came along and knows where to put things that go well with the house.

He likes the differences in their decorations, she makes it more fun rather than bare minimum decorating like he does.

He has kind of been forced to have Christmas spirit being the only one living with Lockwood for so many years, as having something lighter to think about during the winter is essential for working well

He has a family recipe for hot cocoa that he prides himself in, it's one of his secrets that he brings out every year.

There's a list of books that he saves throughout the year to read during the holidays.

Usually folklore and fantasy books that stay in the spirit of things, he tries not to mix work research with personal time if he can.

UNLESS it is about history that is also fun and spirited- he's still a bit of a (loveable) nerd.

x gn!reader: Reading on the sofa over ANYTHING. He loves to get a nice blanket to share and read for hours in each others warmth. His hot cocoa a staple for your reading sessions. Usually you end up with your legs entwined, talking about what you learned from your separate readings, updating each other as you keep going late into the night.

"You know...I really never asked you to hang out with me when I read. However, I really enjoy your company. And your warmth...more than you know. Thank you, y/n.."

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Thank you all for reading!! Let me know if you agree or have anything you can think of to add- I love hearing other people's headcanons for our favorite trio!

Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, and Happy Kwanzaa!!

I will be updating with the third chapter as of next week! I have to survive the weekend and I'll be back to writing again. Have a great rest of December!! - ives :p

[sepublic]

            King really has a whole thing about being seen as a toy, a pet, for people to own and play with without his permission. An object to look nice and pretty and not much else, without any wants or needs of his own.

         So it feels very poetic that he constantly surrounds himself with toys and plushes to command over; King’s whole Tyrant schtick isn’t just a fantasy for him, it’s a way for him to reclaim lost autonomy by exercising his own control. It’s as if King FEELS like a toy, so he commands other toys because he’s essentially one of them. And it reflects on his juvenile nature, not being taken seriously, the revelation that it’s only ever been pretend, etc.

         That makes King’s relationship with Francois very sweet, as a toy from the human world he finds, no thanks to Luz helping him. Luz is someone whose physical cuddling and affections King DOES appreciate, because by the end of the day, Luz respects King as a person and his boundaries. King wants affection actually, but he wants it on his own terms, and there’s a lot of moments where he ‘commands’ Luz and she happily obliges, defends him, etc. Luz is very thoughtful of King’s feelings, and The Intruder is a major episode in which Luz learns to be more mindful of King in general; This of course wins the approval of his father the Titan, who decides to show Luz the light glyph for her kindness.

         But anyhow, King loves Francois and treats him kindly, often as a partner and even equal. So with all I’ve said about King’s toy motif, that transitions perfectly into his dynamic with the Collector. There’s the fact that in their initial interactions, the Collector glomps onto a clearly uncomfortable King, like a child with a pet he doesn’t quite understand is a living creature (and in King’s case, not just a pet either but a person). Dana’s own art encapsulates their relationship by portraying King as a terrified plush that the Collector loves;

         The Collector is also juvenile and loves to play pretend, and treats people like toys, which is exemplified by them transforming victims into literal toys, who are dressed up to look even prettier. But for all their issues with boundaries, the Collector seems to genuinely love and value their toys, kind of like King with Francois.

         This contrasts them with Belos, whom they believe breaks his toys out of fun; That speaks to their different desires, hence the Collector insisting they want to make friends out of others, whereas Belos finds it more simple and satisfying to just destroy his enemies. So the Collector regards his toys as, well, toys; But with a sort of loving respect that a kid who takes good care of their toys and makes sure they’re taken care of does. A projection of feelings and personality… Over the actual feelings and personality that DO exist, but alas.

         But that’s where the Collector’s relationship with King develops, because over the course of two months, they begin to respect and listen to King more, value him as a friend, etc. The Collector is more mindful of King’s boundaries, doesn’t immediately glomp onto him, actually bothers to respond to King’s criticisms. When King says the Owl Beast isn’t ready, they listen, and it’s implied the Collector has known about King visiting Eda and Lilith behind their back, but simply allowed it because friends keeping secrets is totally normal, right? And anyhow, King has been so nice, and they love King so much, they don’t want to call him out and ruin things; He can have this.

         Which leads to Francois, whom King relates to; The toy that the Collector WANTS to cuddle with. But King sets the boundaries that it’s for him (and Luz) only, and the Collector actually listens. He doesn’t touch Francois behind King’s back, and aside from a moment where he has to take it from Belos’ grasp to defend Francois, puts it right back where it belongs. He can’t have Francois, but the Collector can settle for having him BE there, so close and yet so far.

         King is Francois; He’s a beloved toy to the Collector that he loves and appreciates, treats more special than the rest, and practically as a person, a lot of the time. But he’s willing to respect Francois’ boundaries and not play with him when he doesn’t want, just as he does with King, and his visits to his mother and aunt. The Collector obviously has a lot to learn when we check up on them two months later, and King understandably still IS frustrated, hence why he calls out the Collector after the nightmare illusions at the beginning of the series finale…

         But King can tell, as a former, unruly child himself, who was only a non-issue because he lacked the power the Collector wields; The Collector is a kid like him. Who’s also learning. Who ultimately means well. And they’ve proven to be rather receptive over these two months; Not quite there, but if you put in the effort to teach and work with them, King is certain it’ll pay off as it did with him.

         The Collector was a tyrant like King, and like King, a lot of this comes after being helpless because of others as well; The Collector was put into the care of the manipulative Archivists, and later trapped by the Titan. The only way to contact them was with a disc, an object, and their word was exploited by Bill so he could lead the Titan Trappers and finish the genocide of the Archivists. If the Grimwalkers were toys to Belos, so was the Collector, for him to hide away from everyone else, as his own, like a twisted Francois. And when he’s done with the Collector, he drops him into the pit with the rest of the discarded toys he loves to break.

         So like King, the Collector being a tyrant isn’t just the result of kids being kids, it’s also a response to their lack of agency. And tbh, kids in general lack agency, hence why they can be quite unruly troublemakers and rebels, so it makes sense that the Collector also overcompensates, like King does! But both of them learn to be more mindful of boundaries, that their own pain doesn’t justify them doing the same to others, either.

         The Collector notes that King isn’t the only person allowed to touch Francois; There’s also Luz. Luz, the kindly older sister who always listened to King and was attentive to his needs, respected him, and was often desired for physical affection. The Collector wants to BE Luz since King admires her so much, hence emulating her while playing Owl House; And Luz also recognizes their similarities, with the forgiveness she gives the Collector, being a form of forgiveness towards herself for being an ‘unruly’ child.

         And the Collector also grows, has their loss of innocence, but nevertheless matures, as Luz did. They learn about death, just as Luz learned about death when she lost her father; And the Collector technically loses the Titan that night, who was arguably a turbulent father figure who failed them, too, and laments this fact to Luz. The Collector IS Luz, and like Luz in The Intruder, who gains the approval of the Titan with a light glyph, just as the Titan apologizes for the Collector and lends his power to protect them and others…

         The Collector mends their friendship with King and makes it real. They respect and listen to him completely now. And so they get to finally be Luz, not just in their relationship with her, but also in their relationship with King, being allowed to love Francois, even being given him for company by King. Just as Luz is allowed to be King’s friend, and he follows her regularly, even sacrificing himself for her at the end of Season 2.

        King and the Collector are toys who want toys to reverse that dynamic; But in the end, nobody can be a toy. And so they grow up and get to play with actual friends, and be friends to others.

[veritas-scribblings]

card - @bartylusmicrofic - words: 555 [explicit / NSFW]

Barty has a fascination with Regulus’s hair, which is a black-brown and silky-soft, falling in loose curls, so perfect for running his fingers through. He has a fascination with Regulus’s eyes, which are an icy silver-grey, like mercury with the slightest hints of blue. He has a fascination with Regulus’s lips, which are soft and smooth, perfect for kissing and biting and sucking on. He has a fascination with Regulus’s tongue, which is razor sharp and delivers cuts and blows and severs lesser folk at the knees. Cripples them.

So, Barty kisses Regulus’s lips, nipping gently. Slides his tongue over Regulus’s, revelling at the taste and the feel. And he pushes Regulus to his knees so he can stare down into Regulus’s silver-grey eyes and he can comfortably run his fingers through Regulus’s silky-soft hair. And tuck the loose curls behind Regulus’s ears so he can look up at Barty, his view unobstructed, and appreciate how much Barty loves everything about how they are together.

Really, there is no part of Regulus that Barty does not love with every iota of his being. Regulus should be studied, catalogued, so he will forever be immortalised after he is long gone and Barty is long gone. So they might model every future incarnation of human after the perfect being that Regulus is.

Or maybe, maybe, Barty is too selfish for that. Too possessive. Maybe Barty should be the only one to know Regulus—he is the only one to know Regulus and feel Regulus and experience Regulus in such an intimate way—and maybe this knowledge, this experience, should die with Barty. 

Barty wraps his fingers around himself, works his fist up and down his length a few times before he guides his cock to Regulus’s soft-and-smooth-and-perfect-for-kissing lips and he slides inside. And—fuck. Just fuck. 

Barty has no words. He has no thought. He is only feeling and sensation and desire and lovelovelove. 

With a deep sigh, he tries to stay still to let Regulus adjust to the weight and the size and the length of him. Focuses on the feel of Regulus’s warm mouth and the way Regulus’s beautiful perfect-for-sucking-on lips look wrapped around him.

Regulus replies with a groan, the vibrations resonating through Barty, and takes him in deep until the head of Barty’s cock bumps against the back of his throat.

Shuddering, Barty exhales unevenly, not quite a sigh, not quite a moan. He leans back as Regulus swallows around him, tongue pressed against the underside of Barty’s cock. ‘Reg,’ he breathes, running his fingers through Regulus’s hair, trying desperately not to pull because Regulus hates that. 'Reg.'

Regulus pulls off until just the tip of Barty’s cock is between his lips, and then slides back down, sucking hard. And Sweet Salazar, Barty loves this. The warmth. The steady pressure. The knowledge that he might leave a little piece of himself inside Regulus so they might merge their being into one, become BartyRegulus and RegulusBarty.

He cards his fingers through Regulus’s hair again, cradling the back of his head to guide him in closer. Rocking his hips just a little because he can never help himself.

And he thinks, the satisfaction and pleasure huge and alive in his chest, that he is the only one who knows Regulus like this. The only one who has been inside Regulus like this.

And yes, the knowledge should definitely die with him. There will be no other Regulus’s in the world. He will not allow Regulus to be studied and catalogued and immortalised. He will not allow him to be known and experienced. Not by anyone other than himself.

He will keep Regulus entirely to his selfish, selfish self.