#like i do not get how you can sit here and preach all day and then turn around and

[plaquerat]

hey cool takes on incredibly online discourse. now how do you treat your fellow man?

[tsukasageorge]

Guy who will make a 1k word post about how she is not drawing (he is making a 1k word post about not drawing instead of drawing)

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alexia's Version): Future III

Alexia Putellas x Daughter!Reader

Summary: You spend time with Mami

"You know," You say, resting against the bench," Just because I'm now free from my job doesn't mean that I enjoy coming to yours. I'm not six."

Alexia laughs at your teasing, lightly slapping your legs to move so she can sit down too.

You sit up, adjusting your sunglasses on your face as you move.

"You love it really."

You roll your eyes, not that Alexia can tell but you're grinning too and she bumps her shoulders against yours.

Mami's been retired from football for a while now, a player turned manager of Barcelona's women's team. She's on a quest to get as many titles as manager as she did as a player.

Which is why you're here now, at a Champion's League semi-final. It's the second leg with Barcelona already up three nil against Chelsea.

You're not too worried but your Mami is. She knows how quickly a match can change.

It just takes one moment for it all to go to shit.

Mami's a bit intense like that.

It's probably one of the reasons you prefer ballet to sports. There's no competition when you're actually performing. There's some competition for parts behind the scenes but once you're on stage, there is no foul play.

Everyone is trying to do their very best for the crowd.

You couldn't even imagine what it would be like to compete against another ballet company at the same time.

Football has always been a bit too intense for you. It was Mami's passion, even now.

"You're too stressed," You say," Take a day off."

Alexia laughs at you, teasingly ruffling your hair. "Funny," She says," I distinctly remember telling you that a few weeks ago. What was it you said to me? No chance!"

You laugh with her. "Hey! I never said I practiced what I preached!"

"Neither did I!"

It's nice being here with Mami.

Olga's in Madrid with a client and Jaume's on a trip with his school so it's just the two of you in the house right now.

"The girls will be fine," You say dismissively," You're ready. It's only Chelsea."

"Only Chelsea," Alexia repeats with an eye roll," You've not been watching any of their games recently."

You blow her a kiss. "You know I only watch football when you're around, Mami. I'm not Jaume."

Jaume watches football as often as he can, glued to the screen. If he's not watching then he's playing. His dirty football boots lay all over the house.

It's a little annoying, especially when he jumps onto your bed still wearing them.

But you do miss him, annoying as your brother is.

The stadium slowly fills up with fans as you and Alexia sit on the bench together.

You think you and Mami are more similar now that you've grown up. You've always been like her subtly. Her drive and her passion and her ambition.

But you look more like her now.

You've grown into her features, your nose, the curve of your lips, your eyes.

You grin as she pulls you up, grasping your hand tightly as she guides you back inside.

You've got a break for a few weeks before you're back with the company. It's a welcome break, one where you can go back to eating normally and feeling like the world is crushing you.

It's a brutal cycle but one every ballerina goes through.

It's hard and it's horrible but it's what you sacrifice on the altar of ballet.

This break is nice though.

You've got a trip to Mallorca coming up during it where you can just soak up the sun and the sand and whatever fruity drinks you can be bothered to buy.

Just you and the crystal waters.

"Hey," You say to Alexia," I'm going to grab something from the vending machine. Do you want something?"

"I shouldn't..."

You see through her excuses though, waiting her out.

"Just a drink. Sugar free, Bambi!"

"I know!"

You know the stadium like the back of your hand, weaving through the halls to the vending machine you know stocks the best chocolate bars you've ever eaten.

Mami used to buy them for you and Jaume when you were little and the match was over. She used to walk all the way to the rival's end of stadium, still in her kit and boots with you and Jaume following after her like little ducklings.

She didn't even care that the opposing players would stare. She would walk straight up to the vending machine in front of their changing room to get you your favourite chocolate and Jaume his favourite drink.

You could do the walk in your sleep.

Someone's already there though, staring through the glass at it.

It's one of the Chelsea girls.

You vaguely recognise her, one of the older players on the team. You're pretty sure she plays for England too but you're not quite sure because you only watch matches when Mami's around.

"Sorry," You say. You're English is rusty from years of not using it apart from in school. "Are you-?"

"Oh! No, sorry."

You nod in thanks, punching in your choices before paying.

You grab your chocolate and Mami's drink.

She's pretty, this older woman. Exactly your type. If you'd met in the club, you'd probably try to entice her closer but you're at Mami's workplace so you don't.

"I'm not sure what to choose," She says," What do you recommend?"

"The chocolate," You say, waving your choice," The crisps are always stale. Don't get them."

She nods. "Noted."

You go to leave but she still calls after you.

"Hey, can I have your number?"

You lay your cards in the table immediately. "I'm not looking for a relationship," You tell her," I...I'm just not..."

She shrugs. "Can I have your number anyway?"

"You don't mind?"

"I just got out of a relationship. I'm not looking for another one. But you're fit and you give good snack recommendations."

You study her. "I'm y/n."

"Aggie. So...is that a yes?"

"Sure."

When you make your way back to Mami, the Barcelona girls are already warming up.

"You took a while," She says, gratefully taking her drink and pressing a soft kiss to your crown.

"I stopped at the toilets," You reply.

She nods. "Are you still okay with staying down here instead of going to the box?"

"As long as you don't yell at me if it goes wrong then yeah."

"I'd never yell at you," Alexia says," I've been told that having you down here actually makes me calmer."

You roll your eyes. "Whatever." You look down at your phone in your hand. "Hey, remember when you worried about me going to Mallorca by myself?"

Alexia frowns at the change of subject but nods. "Yes. I still am worried, if that's what you're checking."

"You don't need to be," You say," I've got someone coming to stay with me now."

Sun, sand, sea and sex.

The best way for you to spend your break from ballet.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

I HAVE A LOT OF REGRETS ABOUT THAT

osamu dazai x reader, 18 dark ages! dazai

you take care of dazai while he’s ill and in a rare moment of vulnerability.

for 🚬 anon! thank you for supporting 🤍

inspired by this is me trying

he didn’t think it was possible to be so ahead.

he was only 18, and had committed hundreds of crimes. he was a young man, and yet the star pupil of the mafia boss. he had only been in the world for less than a few decades, and yet knew the world better than anyone.

so was he ahead, or was he behind? perhaps he was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere.

his head is pounding, feeling the ache in his eyes. his body feels slack, like its giving up on him despite only just growing it itself. he’s weak, and hiding out in his apartment like a coward. if someone wanted to kill him, now would be the time to do it.

luckily, thats not what you’re here to do. much to his dismay.

he was wary at first, letting you in. he says the usual- that he’ll get you sick and that he can handle himself. but the man who’s wrapped in bandages clearly can’t take care of himself, even if its just a simple cold.

so you trudge in anyway, sighing at his empty fridge with only a few expired contents. how he was surviving was a mystery to you.

so you put together what you can, forging a soup with crab meat so he’ll actually eat it. you don’t know, but he’s watching you from his bedroom.

he’s not used to being taken care of.

truthfully, he could follow his fears all the way down. he could let his shiny wheels rust, and succumb to the realities of life. its what he always preaches about, anyway. he says he wants death, but more so just a reason to go on. whether there was one for him was a different question.

he sighs wearily when you bring a bowl of soup to him, only realizing how hungry he is when he can smell it wafting towards his nostrils. “thank you, darling.” he hums, not caring for the way it slightly burns his fingertips when he takes it from you.

normally, he’d call you an angel for taking care of him, and ask you to commit double suicide holding his hand. you know he’s tired when all he can manage is a thank you before he’s eating the soup like its his first meal in days. honestly, it might have been.

“how are you feeling?” you ask, sitting next to him on the bed. he almost smiles when you put hour hand against his forehead, feeling his temperature. maybe he loves your cold hands against his burning hot skin, or maybe he loves you. probably both.

he resigns to remain strong. because he doesn’t want to be an open wound. its hard to be anywhere these days when all he wants is you, but he can’t admit that. what would happen if he trusted? if he let himself be saved? who would he lose?

“i’m okay.” he says, curving his dehydrated lips into a smile.

you sigh.

his lies are a flashback in a film reel. you’ve seen them before, but they still hurt.

“don’t give me that.” you say, clutching his bandaged hands. “let me care about you, ‘samu.”

for just a moment there, his smirk falls.

he’s used to being told that all his problems are mental. he’s used to getting wasted at bars, like all his potential. he’s used to downing everything he could have been, had he not been exposed to evil at such a young age.

evil expects evil from others. dazai himself was evil. so why weren’t you?

he doesn’t know. but he knows he’s anything but okay right now.

“i’m… tired. and my head is killing me.” he whispers, setting aside his near empty bowl of soup. he looks tired.

you don’t say anything, but he does let you gently push him onto the bed. his heart flutters when he feels you tuck the blankets around him, and end with a kiss on his forehead.

“you rest.” you hum. “i’m gonna go do your groceries. you need more than just instant food, ‘samu. but you are paying me back.”

he’s too tired to protest, and maybe he loves being taken care of. this is him trying.

[almostfoxglove]

THE PRETTIEST

PART I: ANNOUNCEMENT

written for @quinnnfabrgay-writes & @hauntedhowlett-writes' #MONSTERSMASH24 challenge

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Max Phillips x f!Reader CREATURE: GHOST + MAX PHILLIPS WORD COUNT: 4.3k CW: Smut (piv), voyeurism/non-consensual voyeurism (he's invisible and reader doesn't know he's watching), Max is a bit of a creep okay he's doing his best here, protective!max, jealous!max, enough manager speak that I got tech startup flashbacks.

SUMMARY: After a restructuring at the company, Max finds himself dead—this time for good—and haunting his old duplex. Lucky for him, you move in.

read on ao3 | series masterlist | almostfoxglove masterlist

Of all the hell holes where one might waste eternity, Max is pretty sure his vacant duplex is the worst of them. Six rooms, two floors spined by a spiral staircase—all boring and hollow and dusty. Disgusting. How difficult would it have been to let him haunt the office? He could’ve leered over all those pathetic little office drones, driven them crazy forever. Fucked with their desk chairs, their hard drives, mixed up all their coffee mugs. Not that Max has mastered the art of affecting the material world yet, but he will.

Petty? Sure. But you can’t blame a guy for feeling a little owed after all management’s little reorganization. His relocation to the goddamn fucking afterlife—and to this prison of an apartment where there’s no one to subjugate or fuck, no less. 

What a waste of his potential. His talents.

Who knows how long he spends stuck alone in this place until someone shows up, but eventually people do. The real estate agent—Doreen and her little beehive hairdo, her eyebrows always penciled on too thin—and, over what Max estimates to be about three weeks, a parade of nobodies she tours around, preaching godless, truthless sermons of the duplex’s good bones and the good life they could have in these dreary fucking rooms. He’d be proud of her sales pitch if he weren’t so goddamn pissed.

He tries, he really does. Yells often, I’m right here, Dor-een, honey, right fucking here! And waves his arms in front of her face, but he can scream as loud as he likes; nobody hears a thing. 

For the first time in his many lives, people walk straight through him. 

There might be, possibly, some karma in that. 

Max doesn’t care for it.

It’s misery until the day Doreen brings him you.

Come on, Max whines, slouching lazily on your couch. Curled up with your bedsheets cloaked over your head, you rot on the cushions beside him, four hours deep in a Desperate Housewives marathon, oblivious to his company: your usual Sunday routine.

As usual you don’t hear him, don’t see him either. Sitting right beside you, making no dents in the pillows, his glossy dress shoes kicked up on the coffee table. Still he finds himself complaining, one hand gesticulating wildly at the screen, You’re killing me, baby. It’s obviously the fucking neighbor! Guy’s got a box of death under his pool!

Meanwhile you just sit there, enthralled as Eva Longoria struts about in her tiny skirts and tiny shoes. Max tells himself the only reason he stays in the room when you watch this garbage is for her and all the other pretty housewives or to leer at what bits of you peek out from your duvet each time you reach for your tea on the coffee table—a wrist, your elbow, and when you knock over the popcorn bowl and slip the sheets from your head, the lovely hollow of your perfect neck. Truth is, if you were to quiz him, he’d be able to cite the plot of the whole season beat for beat.

Not that he’s enjoying this, this—this garbage. Never.

No fucking way. He’s just perceptive. Has an excellent memory.

Plus this is the one way he gets to be close to you. Such a pretty little thing, taunting him without ever knowing it. That sweet mouth, those clever eyes. Showering with the bathroom door sometimes cracked like you know he’s here and dying to peek through the veil of your jasmine-laced steam. Chewing the ends of your pencils while you sketch out some masterpiece on looseleaf that you never get around to painting.

Sitting on your couch, at your dining table, at the foot of your bed while you brush out your hair after a long day—it’s the closest Max gets to feeling like being stuck here might not be hell, just purgatory: always a breath away from the thing he’d like to touch, but at least he’s not simmering in battery acid or being flogged. He’s had his share of blood-bag roommates—brief fascinations that drained so quickly—but you? You’ve lived in Max’s apartment for three months and he’s no less drunk on you than he was the day Doreen toured you around. Can’t quite put his finger on why. Maybe it’s the longing, the forest fire that sears through his ice-box chest every time your eyes skim his face by accident, never lingering. 

What can he say? Max is a man, after all. Under all the blood and monster.

And you’re the prettiest creature he’s ever seen.

When the show cuts to commercial you mute the TV, immune to the serpent-tongued promises of liars like him. Lured by nothing, by nobody. Already slinking from your bedsheet cave, all bare legs and cute little ankles striding out of the room, leaving him with the ghost of you, the smell of your perfume kissed into the duvet.

What he wouldn’t give for the chance to sell himself to you. He’d charm you all the way to your perfect knees.

In a way, you and Max are the perfect couple. You’re free to do as you wish, and he’s free to watch you every second that you spend at home, miserable the moment you leave for work in those tight fucking pencil skirts. No better than a dog, he spends his vagrant hours of isolation alternating between puppy-eyed pouting and anxious pacing, tortured until your evening return. 

How did he ever live here alone? Alive or otherwise. He can’t remember now. There are too many rooms, too few sounds, too few breaths, too few footsteps. He misses you. Your bedhead and pajamas, your blanket nest in front of the TV, the cute way you answer the phone. 

Today, you don’t come home till eight fifteen—and Max has spent thirteen hours losing what’s left of his mind.

Baby, he sighs, rushing for the front room at the first turn of the lock, a grin stretched to dimples in his cheeks. Seems even if you can’t hear him, Max can’t help talking to you, perhaps childlike in his belief that someday you will. Where the hell have you—

His sentence hacks itself in half, drops to silence, because you’re blushing when you come in, eyes shyly downcast, one hand shaking the rain loose from your hair, tendrils clinging to your cheeks. “Here,” you say, and for a beat Max thinks you’re speaking to him. His mouth drops, stunned. 

Is this it? Can you finally see him?

“Come in, come in,” you say.

Then a man steps in behind you, shuts the door behind his hulking form, and if there were any blood to speak of in his veins, Max is certain it’d boil at the sight of him. Tall and empty-headed, dopey as a dog, stomping his blocky, muddy shoes all over your hallway. Yours and Max’s. Getting goddamn filth on your hall carpet. Given just a few material cells, Max’d have this guy dead before he makes it to the living room, wouldn’t even bother drinking him. This breed of dumbass isn’t worth the mess.

But he’s useless. Less than a gnat. Sentenced to watch you trail this motherfucker who wouldn’t know Tom Ford from his Brioni into your kitchen, jackets shedding and small talk traded—boring, boring, boring, but you laugh when the guy makes a shitty joke about the weather. 

This guy, this nobody, gets to make you laugh while Max never even gets a chance to try.

On second thought, maybe this is hell after all.

“S’a nice place,” the dumbass says, laying his knockoff blazer over the back of a barstool. Cheap stitching. Terrible, too-thin lapels.

You look about the room as if standing in it for the first time and for a moment your eyes pass right over Max, whose long-dead heart winces. Yelps. If you could see him, there’s no way you’d entertain this guy. This nameless little worker bee. Max would make you laugh properly, how you laugh when something funny happens on TV or when you get a letter in the mail from your brother. Sudden and twinkling, often ending in a snort. Adorable.

Shrugging, you turn into your fridge and say, “Yeah, I like it,” and exhume two slim cans of vodka seltzer to set on the kitchen island.

Thank you, Max says, his arms crossed over his chest.

The dumbass’ brows flicker up as he regards your offering. Idiot. What was he expecting from a girl like you, a PBR? These are delicious. Elegant. Calorie wise. Max understands. Max would drink that with a smile and a thank you. 

Or maybe he’d skip right to drinking you.

Sensing his hesitation, you crack your can and take a sip. “They’re not as bad as they look,” you say, a nervous chuckle bittering your lips as you watch your date open his can and bring it to his nose to sniff. “Sorry. I don’t have anything else.”

You can do so much better, baby, Max sighs. You’ve got better right here.

Against his will, the hours pass. The evening goes on. You and the dumbass only drink half a can each—him with a half-snarled lip and you with a self-conscious twinge—but somehow by nightfall he’s got you scooching your barstool closer to him, allowing his slimy hand to rest on your thigh. 

Max bristles. Seethes. Don’t do it, he pleads to you, unheard. He’s not gonna fuck you right, just look at him. Send this idiot home and watch TV with me. Do anything but this guy, baby, anything but him.

You bend in slow motion and it’s agonizing, the tilt of your head as you press your lips to his. The wet slurp of his mouth taking the second you meet. A terrible kiss, though you’re polite enough not to flinch. Breaking from the prod of his pink-slug tongue to offer your neck, his mouth immediately moving, and fuck baby, it’s like you’re trying to kill him all over again. Drive a stake straight through Max’s blackened heart by giving up what he longs to claim.

In an instant, anger births itself from the hollow of his chest. His hand shoots out in useless violence, swinging as if to strike a seltzer can from the countertop and knowing it won’t do a lick of good as ire devours him, igneous and fervid, searing hot as life in his icy hands.

The can jumps from the counter and clunks to the floor, its contents gluggluglug-ing across the tiles.

“The fuck?” Max hears the dumbass gasp as he leaps from his barstool, eyes bugged wide and child-like and weak. You freeze, lips pink and swollen, staring down at the emptying can. 

It’s a shame neither of you can see the way Max smiles. 

Now that’s what I’m talking about, he crows. Finally a little substance around here! 

This is good. No, it’s better than good. This is the rush after a promotion, after the deal that closes out the quarter over target. The look on every sad sack’s face knowing they lost and he won.

This is the bite that finally breaks skin.

Maddening, burgeoning, addictive.

He’s real again. A goddamn Beetlejuice for you, baby. He’s gonna scare this fucknut out of here and have you to himself. First was the can, next is you, and he’s gonna kiss you so much better than that. In celebration, Max kicks one foot to send the can soaring across the kitchen floor and watches his shoe pass right through it, aluminum undisturbed on the floor. No, he mutters, kicking again. No, fucking—come on, you worthless piece of shit—

Your nervous laugh is too far away to comfort him. Distant too is your voice saying, “My room’s this way,” and the shuffling of your footsteps as Max loses his shit on the seltzer can that now refuses to budge no matter the swell of his outrage. By the time he snaps from his incensed trance, your barstools are empty. He blinks, breathless with muscle memory—his lungs wheezing because they remember wheezing, not out of need.

Baby? he calls out.

But you reply. A murmur too lusty to be a giggle—Max’s body coils up at the sound, taut and needy, and carries him toward the sound. He forgets, briefly, who you’re with. Believes he’ll find you in your bedroom alone beneath the covers, hands fluttering as you bring yourself to the edge of release. How beautiful you’d be, gasping in pleasure. He might close his eyes and pretend it’s him drawing out your every breathy, needy sound.

You’ve left the bedroom door cracked, and though in death he’s no longer bound by silly things like permission, Max has since you moved in found himself in the habit of respecting closed doors. Walls are chalk outlines over which he’s free to step, but he doesn’t, not if you’ve closed the gate. He’s not a monster. Or not a total monster—whatever, semantics. Point is that he only spies on your showers if you’ve cracked the door. Indulges in the soft moments of you sleeping only when you’ve left him that sliver of room.

Like the room you’ve left him now: slender and tempting, this stripe of your bedroom wall. A Degas print in a copper frame, the wooden post at the foot of your bed. 

Your sweet voice cooing here, like this, and the creak of your mattress.

Something black and silty sinks in Max’s stomach when he steps inside. Not the rage from moments ago. Something darker, heavier. Jealousy. Half-sheeted by your duvet, the dumbass you’ve brought home rocks above you, his shirt gone, his beefcake arm blocking the view of your chest, and though you’re making all the right sounds it’s obvious this isn’t any good.

He’s not fucking you right.

Your hands clawing at his back are too stiff. Your yeses a beat too slow. As the idiot pants—thrusts choppy and graceless—Max watches your hand tap his shoulder blade as you breathe, “Flip over.”

“What?” bumbles the guy, his hips stalling. “Oh shit—fuck yeah. Okay.”

Another grunt, then he rolls off and Max gets a glimpse of you—your red bra lacy and see through, your nipples so pretty underneath. It just isn’t right, the awkwardness of this colossal douchebag as he settles on his back and you ruck back the covers to straddle him, not at all breathless, hardly even flushed, your hair all messy at the back from disappointing friction.

“Shit,” the guy gasps as you sink down on him, clamping those boorish hands onto your waist.

You don’t even whine, not even as you start to rock, though his breathing gallops beneath you. Guy looks two seconds from nutting while you look years away from anything even loosely resembling an orgasm—your rhythm changing often as you try and fail to find a pace that suits you. “Christ—oh my god, ” the guy groans.

Max sucks his front teeth, tongue soiled with venom.

“Touch me,” you sigh, bouncing now. The curtain of your hair shivering down your back. 

This guy fucks like he’s never touched a woman before. At your request his knuckles only pale, fingers pinching you tighter. That’s not what she means, Max growls. Touch her fucking clit, you pin-dicked imbecile. Can’t fucking please a woman, should be fucking ashamed—

His pointless ranting is cut short by a sudden moan as the guy lifts you off him in time to come all over his stomach, chest rapid in its heaving, upper lip snarled in pleasure he doesn’t have the goddamn decency to return to you. For a long moment you hover above him, waiting, but his head just slumps back against the pillow, satisfied. 

Done.

He’s actually done. Motherfucker.

When you crawl off him to sit back against your headboard—arms crossing over your stomach self-consciously—Max sees red. Sees fire. Sees the roiling magma at the center of the earth where someone oughta make this fucker take a nice hot bath. 

He’d do this right. He’d fuck you properly, have you coming apart at the seams, go down on you until you beg for his cock and edge himself for as long as it takes to have you screaming his name. Can’t you see that? Can’t you feel him here, right now? Can’t you feel how bad he wants you? Can’t you imagine how much better he’d be? How good he’d make you feel?

Letting out an airy chuckle, the brute wipes the back of his hand across his sweaty brow and pushes himself to his feet. Redresses with a goddamn smirk on his face—not one of cruelty, but it might as well be. He thinks this is a job well done. Time to go home. 

A peck to your lips, then he’s rattling on about calling you, seeing you again, maybe Thursday? Friday? While you just sit there, blinking up at him in disbelief. “Sure,” you say, dazed and not quite thinking. “I’ll call you.”

Yeah, she’s not calling you, Max snarls, following the guy out of the room. Watching as the jackass plucks his jacket from the back of your barstool, steps over the mess of seltzer without a thought to clean it up for you, and waltzes right out the door. Not a care in the goddamn world. 

Though he hears you get up shortly after to use the bathroom, you don’t emerge from your bedroom and Max doesn’t disturb you. He spends that time in the kitchen, grabbing and grabbing and grabbing at the dish towel hung over the handle on the oven door, trying to pull it off. 

For at least an hour, his hand glides through the towel as if it’s water, not a flutter or sway in the fabric. Not even a brush, a compromise. It just hangs there, indignant. Mocking him. Deaddeaddeaddeaddead. Maybe it’s the Senior Sales Manager in him, the apex predator at the top of the food chain—but Max can do this all night. He’s not backing down, not letting a stupid fucking towel get the better of him. That lazy curtain of terrycloth will disintegrate before he waves the white flag. 

Beyond the picture frame windows that stare out into the barren, colorless street, the sun has shied to navy blue, letting out the round-mouthed moon, and you have not emerged from your bedroom for hours. He wants to check on you, ask if you’re okay. Frankly, baby, he’s getting a little worried. On the next sweep of his hand, the towel gives up the ghost; Max pulls it from the oven handle, marveling at the toothy fabric. He’s holding it, really holding it, all on his own. 

Thank fuck he’s not haunting the office. If any of those bull-brained fucks saw him now, as he kneels on your kitchen floor, he’d have to die all over again. Somehow. The technicals aren’t important—what’s important is that no one’s here to see him on his fucking knees, mopping up the spilled drink. Something like joy burbles in his chest when he reaches for the can and seizes it, placing it safely on your counter. The floor dry and shining again, clean. 

Max folds the towel carefully and returns it to the rack. 

As if on cue, the bedroom door croaks down the hall and you emerge. A huge t-shirt slumps from your frame; you’ve tied your hair up, put your glasses back on. Dressed down for the last dregs of night, rubbing the back of your hand in one eye, tired. 

You look so, so tired.

I’d rub your shoulders, baby, Max sighs quietly and though you won’t hear him, it still—after three whole months—doesn’t feel any less right to hope.

He steps out of your way as you round the corner into the kitchen with a yawn, hands clasped behind his back, cheek dimpled and eyes alight. Just like he wanted, just like he hoped, your eyes fall immediately to the floor where the can is missing, the spill wiped. Lashes flickering—the towel dark at the hem on its handle, the empty can on the counter. Your brows pinch low over your nose, curious. 

Pretty good for a dead guy, Max grins.

How sweet, that lifting flinch at your mouth’s sharp, pink corner. The soft hm you make in reply. It’s not much, but this strange, fluttery feeling in the dark cavity one might wrongly call his heart? It doesn’t feel half bad. 

Not bad at all.

He’s getting better at it. Not great, but the projections look good. Give him a little time, he’ll have this whole place dancing. Put on a big show, announce himself properly. 

In the meantime he practices when you’re not looking. Small stuff—he opens cupboards. Shuts them. Hits start on the dryer when you forget to press it yourself. Some days he wastes reaching for things and coming up empty, but now again his luck sparkles. Things move. Bend to his will. Isn’t long until he can hold it for a while—gathering the matter to run the vacuum around, or reorganize your pantry. A tidy house makes a tidy mind, baby. No good living in a dump. You’re so busy, always cracking around like a ping pong ball, and hell, it’s not like Max can leave this place, get a little air in his idle lungs.

He likes being useful to you. Likes that tiny smirk on your lips when you find something fixed or organized for you, even though you likely chalk it up to having forgotten that you did it yourself. Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need the credit. Isn’t that strange? How often he smiles at you? How perfect he finds the taste of your name.

Winter has arrived like a secret—whispered about for weeks and then suddenly let loose on the world. You come home from work in the evenings with icing sugar hair. Usually unbothered, far as Max can tell, but today you stagger in flushed from the cold and dark in the eyes.

Shit, baby, Max says when he sees you. Bad day?

Sniffling, you drop your coat right there in the hall, let it puddle over your shoes, and stalk off on a mission, barreling into the kitchen. The fridge door rips open, casting blue-white light over your face, and you must feel a hell of a lot worse than you feel because you don’t even blink at the contents inside. All the shelves wiped clean, the bottles arranged with the labels facing out, those wilted, bad greens deposited in the compost. You just reach in for the half-drunk bottle of Riesling that to Max smelled mostly like juice and swipe off the lid.

You chug on your way to the couch, leaving the fridge door open behind you.

Max closes it when you’ve gone, the TV already switched on in the living room, the lilting strings of the Desperate Housewives theme song swimming through the air. When he turns the corner he finds you wrapped in the throw blanket he now knows the texture of—supple and velvet, weighted and warm—with the wine bottle nestled in your lap. 

A silver tear hangs on your cheek. 

Really bad day, whatever it was. 

He wants to ask. Wants to pull you into his arms and pet back your hair. Wants to lick that sadness from your skin. 

Maybe this isn’t the show he’s imagined. Not much of a reveal—but you look so small right now, alone on your couch. Wine splashing in its bottle as you bring it to your lips, not bothering to wipe that tear away. If Max had a heart that beat, it’d stutter as he watches you. Helpless isn’t something he cares to feel.

No time like the present. Max sighs, scrubs a hand down his face as he ticks his jaw to one side, and nods. Alright, baby, he relents. Hang on.

On his way to the bathroom he cracks all the knuckles on his left hand, rolls his neck, swings his shoulders. Stretches himself long and limber like he’s about to run—but this is it. Curtain’s coming up. Time to find out if one glimpse of him sends you sprinting for the hills. Though he casts no reflection, Max stands before the mirror hanging over the sink and straightens his tie, corrects his lapels. Old habits, but it never hurts to look good.

Hand waggling, then, over the tissue box on the counter. He slaps himself hard, sending a delicious ripple of pain across his cheek. Come on, he begs. Don’t play hard to get.

The box lifts.

Here he comes: tissue box in hand, stalking tall and proud down your hallway with his chin up, shoulders back. Gets the momentum rolling, doesn’t hesitate, just waltzes in.

Your head snaps in his direction, eyes round and brows rising. To you it must look like the tissues float through the air to your side. Max steps back with butterflies jittering in his bones. 

Don’t be scared, he pleads. It’s just me.

With your head cocked to one side you consider this, though you’ve not heard his voice. Probably for the best. Came out a little softer than he meant it to, a little needy, and that’s just not becoming of a man like him. He has a reputation to uphold, even now. 

After a long, bludgeoning pause you click your tongue, swiping one white tissue from the box to turn over in your hand. Deliberating. Then your face cracks, possessed by a slithering smirk. Your gaze flickering so close to him it’s almost as if you’ve looked him in the eye. 

Deep in his chest, Max feels a strange throb—his stirring heart—as you say out loud, 

“I knew someone was there.”

dividers by @saradika-graphics - tag list & some mutuals!

@ak-vintage @thethirstwivesclub @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @hediondoamor-blog @harriedandharassed 

@burntheedges @jolapeno @la-eterna-enamorada29 @iknowisoundcrazy @guiltyasdave

@littlemisspascal @luxurychristmaspudding @tonysopranosrobe @evolnoomym @sweetpascal 

@spacelatinos4life @sweetpascal @biggetywitch @wannab-urs @helenanell

@pedgito @pastelpinkflowerlife @jessthebaker @rav3n-pascal22 @sixhours 

@noisynightmarepoetry @kyberblade @beezusvreeland @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack 

@pedrospatch @yopossum @toomanytookas @sawymredfox @galway-girlatwork

@ppascalrain @bbyanarchist @amanitacowboy @milla-frenchy @schnarfer

[libertyybellls]

BELIEVE ME NOW ?

pairing; mentor!finnick odair x reader

summary: finnick odair, to love you- to protect you, battles it out with tough love that you can’t quite see.

contains; ENEMIES TO LOVERS, fluff/tad bit of angst, finnick nearly breaking readers door down, ONE singular kiss is shared 😇, unspoken feelings, death/typical hunger games violence, comfort.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

you didn’t know why you hated finnick odair, but you know when it started. you knew it the minute he was assigned you mentor, the minute he put on an act and thought of himself to be better than you, and the second that he wouldn’t give you any reasonable advice before your games.

it was only when you’d won your games, did finnick finally feel for you, it ate him up inside- guilt, fear, shame, it all sickened him.

he sought death in his games, not of the other kids- but himself. but when you’re forced into that arena- when someone stronger, faster, smarter than you starts running towards you- desperate to hear that cannon sound, you fight. and he hated everything about how he fought- only to end up a possession to the republic, a slave to his own mind.

so when he saw you, wide eyed- sitting on that train- scared, unsuspecting, unprepared- he saw himself. he saw that fourteen year old boy stripped from his home, to end the game with blood on his hands.

you were older than he was then, but it didn’t matter if he was nineteen, thirty, even eighty- he’d give anything to have been lucky enough to die in that arena.

you’d arrived from your games a few days ago, only having seen mags. mags who had helped you before your games, signing to you how to find food and water, how to not get sick or hypothermic, die of heatstroke. mags, who brushed your hair after your first shower when all you wanted to do was curl in a ball and disappear, who sent you off to rest knowing if she hadn’t given you medicine you’d stay up- stuck in your head.

being in that hotel after your games was like a ghost town. all the other mentors and stylist sent home- only your own had been there. all the other kids were gone- quite frankly dead. the room next to yours vacant- your district partner, a boy you’d gotten to know quite well- someone you’d even call a friend, dead. just you left.

you’d just finished your interview, faking a smile, plastering on a look of faux happiness- preaching about how grateful you were to have made it out. dressed so extravagantly, so see-through, so indecent, your makeup so dissimilar to you- you couldn’t even recognize yourself.

you’d been rushing back to your room- rushing to hide away until you’d once more get back on the train and give a ‘victory’ tour.

finnick had been waiting for you, he had so many things he needed to say, to tell you- no, warn you about.

but as you strided towards him from the elevator, and let out a sharp; “what? here to take the credit from all the advice you gave me?” and slammed your door without batting an eye- the words were lost in his throat.

he started with knocking, simply calling your name, “can i please just speak to you?” then the knocks got harder, less distance in time between each one, then he was pounded on the white door incessantly. “y/n, open this door.”

your head was pounding, and you could care less for what glorious speech he was going to spew at you, “i don’t want your fucking pity story, finnick.” you tell back from the other side of the door- at this he pushes, and pushes the door until the lock gives.

when he sees you, your sitting on the edge of your bed- your heads in your hands, the lamp beside you is dim.

“what? what’s so important you had to force yourself into my room? do you think anything you say is going to change how you left me? you left me to die.” you were glaring at him. with so much hate behind your eyes he couldn’t take it anymore.

you thought you’d been nothing but kind to him, respectful, even after he’d won his games you still treated him normally once he’d gone back to district four- worst of all, you thought you deserved some type of help from him. but all you ended up being was dirt on his shoe?

“i was trying to protect you-“

you laugh incredulously at this, “trying to protect me? no, finnick. you wanted to protect malik-“ you waved your hand in the direction of the very empty, lifeless room of your district partner, “and look where your ‘help’ got him.”

“i mean, you made no effort to do so much as look my way, and now you want to talk? you’re of no use to me now. i already got through the worst of it- without you.” you continued rambling as you took of your necklace, your rings, your bracelets.

“trust me y/n you’ll realize victory isn’t the better option. so if you’d just fucking-“ he sighed, running his hand over his face and looking down. “if you’d just listen to me- you’ll see i’m trying to be your friend- to help you for what’s coming next.”

there’s a few beats of silence as he waits for your response, it’s deafening- you’ve completely paused in your action of taking out your earrings. “my friend?” you laugh, hair falling over your shoulders. “i don’t really like you, finnick.”

this perplexes finnick, shaking his head. “and i don’t really believe you, y/n.” he takes a step closer, breaking your imaginary bubble. “you know you were the only person who didn’t hover around me in our town after my games? the only person who never looked up to me? like i was this spectacle? waiting to see my next move?”

you take one step closer to him now, you can smell him- it’s of salt air and expensive cologne- and it’s unbearable. there’s heat emitting from his body.

“that’s called caring, finnick.” you look into his eyes now, for the first time. “and i’d only wish you’d have that same respect for me.”

there’s something he can’t understand about you, you’re constantly trying to fight back- you won’t admit defeat or accept help- just continuing your fight for survival. but he prays you know you don’t have to fight him, he only wants to help you.

“why do you think i’m here?” his eyes are pulling you in, his smell is suffocating you. it’s all a paradox. “you think im here to torment you further, y/n?”

truth be told, you don’t know why he’s here. you don’t know why he’s caring so much. but you’re here, standing inches away from him in your hotel room and admiring him- for reasons you can’t quite explain.

“snows going to do everything he can to make you feel small. he’s going to make you the capitols dream girl. he’s going to objectify you, and show you off like you’re a prize.” he takes a breath, you’re driven to further confusion- why does it look like this is hurting him too? “and you can’t fight it, because it will only have him sway more control over you. only more pain for you. and i won’t have that y/n.”

finnicks closer to you now, “i won’t-i cant have him take more of you.” from me, he wants to say, he wants to tell you that all he’s tried to do from the moment he met you as a boy, is protect you.

there it is again, that glint in his eyes- the utter, pure concern and passion, and you can’t take it. “don’t do that. don’t look at me like you care about me.”

finnicks face is not even an inch away from yours now, you can see the birthmarks on his neck- the freckles the sun has blessed him with that are so faint you wouldn’t have seen them before.

“i do.” he says like it’s the last words he’ll ever say. the air has left both of your lungs.

you keep this eye contact with him, like he can see your heart, and like you’re trying to read his mind. “i don’t believe you.” you mock his words from earlier.

he angles his head at these words, moving closer so your lips are touching-and your eyes flutter shut- but he hasn’t kissed you, not yet.

“i want to protect you until i can’t anymore. until im gone.” he doesn’t let you speak now, his lips stealing your words when they crash into yours. the movement is natural, fluid, soft.

he expects you to pull away, shove him off of you, tell him that you hate him- but you deepen the kiss much to his surprise.

you kiss him, pull him impossibly close to you until you can’t anymore- until your lungs now beg for oxygen- but all you want to do is breath him in. you pull away, and your eyes open, nearly in shock, but more in amusement.

“believe me now?”

-

masterlist

[writingwithcolor]

Thanksgiving/Day of Mourning

Last year, I made a very quick, basic post about thanksgiving: Indigenous Day of Mourning aka Thanksgiving. if you want the sources for what I’m about to say, check there.

This post will be about why you cannot just go “fuck the pilgrims, we deserve a harvest festival no matter the origin” or anything else that tries to sanitize the holiday.

You Are Still On Stolen Land

As a result, you are still actively profiting off the genocide the pilgrims committed.

I don’t care how educated about racial issues you profess you are. I don’t care how you behave the other 364 days of the year. If you try to distance yourself from the origins of Thanksgiving simply because it makes you uncomfortable to see the blood under the tablecloth, you’re not practised in sitting with actually being anti-racist. You know what to say, but you don’t practice what you preach.

You Are Eating Our Food

Pumpkins/squash, beans, turkey, cranberries, potatoes, corn, sweet potatoes, pecans, maple syrup?

Those are all Native American foods that we taught you how to grow and harvest.

You wouldn’t have any of your traditional Thanksgiving foods without us. The ideal meal of Thanksgiving is ripped right from Indigenous practices and cannot be separated from it.

The fact that these foods have been taken out of Indigenous hands and appropriated by colonizers as the bounties they somehow deserve for landing here is a tragedy, and people need to remember where their food comes from and who had been growing it for thousands of years.

You Had So Much Because Of Massacre

Thanksgiving became an annual tradition after 700 Pequot men, women, children, and elders were killed, freeing up acres of land that colonizers promptly took over. The sheer amount of extra acreage that colonizers had because of their genocide contributed to the excess of food experienced during Thanksgiving. That land had been structured to support more people originally.

Colonizers had never, ever, deserved that much food. They were taking more than they needed, not leaving much behind for the animals that depended on a balance to be held with humans. They took far more than was needed, throwing the balance off in nature.

Maybe I’m reaching. But I think that if you suddenly had 700 less people in the area, after all of the growing and planting for the total population had been done, you’d have excess food? Or even before the growing, you’d have land set up to support 700, that I’d assume you’d still use, when you were a much smaller population?

Sit With Your Own Grief

If this makes you feel bad and that you shouldn’t celebrate Thanksgiving? Sit with that.

I’m not telling you that you have to give up Thanksgiving traditions. I’m telling you that you cannot divorce them from Indigenous people.

You are giving thanks for our massacre. You are giving thanks for stealing so much from us that you had this excess.

Yes, you can need a break; yes, you can need time with family and friends. None of this is inherently bad.

It’s not even bad to eat local food from Turtle Island! Part of having a sustainable diet is eating locally, in time with the seasons.

But remember, it is Indigenous people who first gave this to you—and then you stole far more than you ever needed from us, killing us to get what you felt you deserved.

Do not divorce Thanksgiving from Indigenous people for your own comfort.

We are still here. We must live with the aftermath of colonizers stealing from us every single day.

If you feel this way hearing about our history, imagine what we feel like living it.

Donate to a local org/Indigenous person this Thanksgiving

I (again) don’t have the spoons to compile a list of vetted charities, but look for local tribe language revival programs, COVID relief funds, and activism around the Indian Child Welfare Act currently in front of the Supreme Court.

Pay reparations for what you have taken, and remember. It is also Indigenous Day of Mourning.

Indigenous people, drop your links below.

~Lesya

[danieyells]

I don't know if you've done it yet but I would like to request Ren lines? I'm having tokyo debunker Ren brainrot bro 😭.

@otomelover23

You're all very welcome! I love you guys too, so far! Sorry you've been deprived of lazy boi lolol HOPEFULLY THESE SATISFY YOU A LITTLE BIT.

He's a little tsundere I think. He's one of those characters who just wants to be normal but he can't just pretend to be normal because he lives surrounded by chaos so he just complains a lot lolol. . .but i think he's a good guy. Aside from that he does not help his mother captain at all.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Great, shift change. I'm gonna head out then... What? Do I really need to be here for that?"

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"I think you've got a notification... Aren't you going to look at it?"

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"Who did I disappoint in a past life to end up in Jabberwock... There's no general students or even a single other sane person, and these jumpsuits are a crime..."

"Why do I have to look after all these weird-ass animals? This is forced labor...  Ugh, they're so gross..."

"If you're just gonna stand there, could you go feed the animals in the aquatic zone?  I'm too busy."

"Ugh, why is that clown calling me... ... Whatever, I'll just let it ring out."

you know damn well that if you don't answer the phone you're gonna have to deal with Haru in person. Better to just answer it.

"Oh, hey... Could you open the link I sent you? No, you don't have to sign up or anything. Thanks."

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"Ugh... Tell me how I'm supposed to sit through classes when I've been up since 4 AM? (yawn) I'm exhausted..."

well if you didn't stay up until 4am--oh who am i kidding i stayed up til like 3 watching a stream and reading datamine stuff and then I got up at like 6:30 to get ready for work I'm no better kekw.

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Ugh... I can't believe I'm hiding right now... Why the hell does that clown have to chase me around at lunch time too?"

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Preach about doing it for the sake of your friends or the animals or whatever all you want— I really don't give a shit. People who say that stuff are just deluding themselves."

i've known people with this kind of cynicism before. once he finds people care about him and a little more stability he'll come around a little more.

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Huh? I can't see that clown anywhere... Hell yes. Gonna get through my watch list. I hope he never comes back."

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I'm grinding this game on my phone, so could you not talk to me for a while? Crap, I think my RSI is flaring up..."

in Japanese he specifies tendonitis haha

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Don't people get embarrassed calling out those words when they use their stigmas? It makes them look like LARPers..."

in japanese he says they sound like they have chuunibyou which is much funnier imo lmao. also i guess that means he can say his in his head? since he'd feel embarrassed doing it aloud, maybe he's practiced already lol

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"You think I sigh a lot? Got a problem with that? You realize trying to take away people's freedom of speech is power harrassment, right?"

you're starting to sound like ritsu. gonna hurt yourself reaching like that.

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm so done... I'm out of HP... Shouldn't I be exempt from missions and classes since I'm looking after all those animals?"

well based on one of Haku's chats, you can just do missions if you don't go to class, and based on Kaito you can just go to class instead of doing missions. . .but I'm sure Haru forces him on missions anyway lol. . . .

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Pfft... The video of that clown getting attacked by that hawk thing is getting so many interacts. This editing thing's actually pretty fun."

does editing count as a creative effort? i wouldn't be surprised if he switched to Hotarubi next year if so, assuming he doesn't get used to Jabberwock and the animals. Also why didn't he get stopped by Sophy for uploading a video with an anomaly? Unless he uploaded it to an Institute social media site like WickHive or something. . . .

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Gotta change the locks so that clown can't get in again. I've bought enough padlocks to start my own business by now..."

life haru finds a way. sometimes that way is "towa, break down the door" if he runs out of lockpicking equipment.

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"My head's killing me... This is the worst... Rise and shine! my ass... It's basically still the middle of the night. Guess I should padlock my windows..."

5-6am I can understand being 'basically the middle of the night' but after that you're pushing it lmao

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"The cafeteria's way over capacity... The assholes who save seats before its even noon are ruining it for everyone else..."

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Why's my pay so low... huh? What's this deduction for? "Consultation Fee: Ritsu Shinjo..." He's seriously charging me for complaining...?"

Ritsu charges for looking at him too long. i'd try venting on wickhive over complaining to Ritsu.

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"That rabbit sure has it good. All it has to do is breathe and everyone fawns over it. Doesn't even have to feed itself. Just wait till it grows up and learns what the world's really like."

WELL BASED ON THAT THE ADULT PEEKABOO WAS STILL BEING FAWNED OVER AND HARU HAD TO STOP PEOPLE FROM PETTING IT BECAUSE IT BITES. . .IT'LL PROBABLY STILL HAVE IT GOOD. Haru takes good care of the animals.

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Sup... Huh? I'm alone today. I just got up on my own since if I don't that clown'll wake me up anyway."

yeah? it's because of haru? not because of your affinity with the pc being more than half so you wanna be up earlier to spend more time with them? sure.

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Oof, nearly missed the noon raid...  Not like I'll have any time to myself once I get back to the dorm, so I guess I should do it now..."

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"No, I'm not going to sleep yet. I'm gonna watch a horror B-movie. You don't have to think, so they're the perfect thing to watch before bed."

i used to watch/listen to mts3k to go to sleep so. i feel this.

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Well done me for surviving another day... Oh, same to you too, {PC}. I don't how you can do this stuff voluntarily."

SOME PEOPLE JUST LIKE ANIMALS DAWG.

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Huh? I'm going to the campus store to buy some stuff, where are you going? Well, I'm going that way, so...bye."

not sure if shy or asocial lmao. could be both!

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"You're being forced to help out again? Wow, a doormat out in the wild. So? Where do you want me to carry all this food?"

he's helping you even though he doesn't wanna work. HE'S GOT IT BAD.

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"This? It's a video I uploaded. People seem really into it. It's of that clown getting chased by a dog and flailing around like one of those inflatable air dancers."

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"What am I doing today? Working at the diner. Oh, if you want to keep me company, feel free to come by. As long as you serve yourself."

it's not a date or anything since he's at work but like. . .he is inviting you to hang out. . . .

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Huh? You were waiting for me to get off work? Oh... Thanks. Wait, that clown put you up to this?! I'm gonna kill him..."

NO NO WE CAME HERE WILLINGLY probably. although it does seem like Haru to be like "oh hey Ren really really likes you, you should go pick him up from work! he'd love that!!" like a real nosy mom who's trying to get his son together with his crush.

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"When did it get this late? That was horrifyingly fast... I'll walk part of the way back with you. I was gonna go buy something to drink anyway..."

excuses, excuses. . . .

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"Every day here is a fresh hell, sure, but... You're suffering through it with me, so I guess I'll stick it out a little longer..."

'this sucks but you make it suck a little(a lot) less so i can keep going'. yep, that's our tsundere alright!

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"That clown's even more slap-happy than usual lately—it's horrible. Has he got spring fever or something?"

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Otonashi keeps trying to make me drink some kind of rice porridge with weird flowers in it... It's actual porridge harassment."

considering the flower Towa associates with Ren is poisonous, i think it's safe to assume he is literally trying to poison him to death lmao. also wtf is porridge harassment--i even tried looking it up in japanese and the first thing that came up was someone screenshotting it and saying "what is porridge harassment" lolol

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"All this farm labor's bad enough without all the caterpillars and weird plants that are out there now...This is harassment."

what's harassing you, nature? as someone who just had to kill a huge mosquito that came into my room, nature is harassing me too.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I hate cherry blossoms. They're like the flower version of being a legacy kid— all they have to do is bloom once a year and everyone claps."

in japanese what he says is something like 'i hate them just like people born with silver spoons in their mouths'. basically he hates people born into privilege lol i bet he'd have the potential to get along well with haku until he learns he'll be inheriting a shrine. . .then again he's getting along with Ritsu in their own little way

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"This is the worst... It's not even noon yet, how is it so hot? Summer is for extroverts and party animals, I wish it could just be over already..."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"A group trip to the beach? I'd rather die. No decent person would ever go there of their own free will."

butbutbut. think of the summer skins!!!

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Summer was our busy period back home, so I always had to kill myself helping out. Now I'm here though... nothing's changed."

. . .did Ren's family run some sort of seaside shop??? And he happened to end up afraid of the ocean and hating aquatic creatures and such?

(between 8pm and 5am)

"How can the A/C be banned in the dorm...? Who gives a shit what temperature some anomalous animal that sneaks in prefers, humans should come first..."

okay i agree with him here though what the fuck kind of rule is that. can we talk to hyde about that, that's insane haru.

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Now it's getting colder, I nearly found myself feeling grateful for this tragic jumpsuit... Am I being brainwashed...?"

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Fall, the season of the harvest—I'll stick with cup noodles, thanks. "Fall, the season to enjoy the outdoors"—screw that. I'm gonna make it the season of naps."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Look—I got bitten by some weird bug anomaly. To hell with the stupid bug spray ban, I'm buying some."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I feel like the mountains are rowdier when there's a full moon. Pretty sure my enemy encounter rate goes up when I'm on patrol too... Maybe I'm just imagining it."

is 'enemy encounter rate' here referring to people or anomalies. . .because if it's people then that's just because of tsukimi. . .although I wouldn't be surprised if there were a lot of anomalies or anomalies were more active on full moons.

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"There's less patrols in winter but anything involving water like washing up gets even worse... Ugh, I wish I could hibernate too..."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Since the climate in Jabberwock's so messed up, sometimes it's actually warm in winter. The blizzards are way stronger though..."

have you tried pissing towa off less?

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Oh god, I just saw what's in the diner's new Mystery Hot Pot... It's gotta be a matter of time before this place goes bust..."

i mean if they had ordinary health inspectors maybe lolol

(between 8pm and 5am)

"That clown broke my window so my room's like a freezer... Oh, don't worry. I just took his room instead."

lmao imagine Ren invites you to hang out and takes you to Haru's room instead of his like nah he broke my window so i'm using his room and he can freeze.

His birthday: (July 25th)

"You got this for me? That clown's been spreading my personal info around... No, it's fine, I'll still take it. Thanks."

i guess he doesn't really tell people his birthday, huh.

Your birthday:

"Happy birthday, {PC}. ...Isn't it kind of rude to look so surprised I'd celebrate your birthday? That came from the heart, you know."

I MEAN YOU NORMALLY DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING. . .it's happy surprise!!!

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year. My resolution? Escaping the hell hole that is Jabberwock, for starters."

well you got here in like September or something so. you've got a while befor eyou can switch houses lmao but you can do it this year!

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"You got me chocolates? You're the type who does all this kind of stuff, huh? No, it's fine, you went to the trouble and everything so I'll take them."

i love when characters kinda mock you for doing getting them something but then they're like "nonono i want it gimme--" lolol from Ren especially it's very tsundere. poor guy wouldn't be straightforward about his feelings unless a damn life was on the line.

White Day: (March 14th)

"{PC}... Here, if you want them. I just bought the first thing I saw, so don't read into it..."

i bet it's actually really nice lolol

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Guess what? I got special permission to switch houses. That nightmare is now behind me! I wish..."

Halloween: (October 31st)

"I hope everyone who gets excited about Halloween lives in misery for the rest of their lives. Why the hell do I have to help out with this stupid themed tour?"

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Can I ask you a question, {PC}? You don't still believe in Santa Claus, do you? Never mind, it doesn't matter. Have a good Christmas."

i mean. . .after coming here santa is a plausible entity to believe in. . .if there's gonna be a santa i don't wanna be caught not believing and missing out on gifts. . . .

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Where'd she go...? Whatever. Guess I'll catch up on some of my games."

(13 affinity and above)

"Pfft... This edit's awesome. I'm a genius. I'll show {PC} when she gets back."

true bonding is sharing the funny memes you worked hard on. . . .

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"It's not like I was waiting for you or anything. It's just this hell hole is even more unbearable when you're not around..."

YEP THAT'S OUR UNFORTUNATE CUSTOMER SERVICE EMPLOYEE TSUNDERE ALRIGHT. His lines don't really get super affectionate but. They still have a charm to them when you realize how much he hides his feelings in the usual tsundere way. He likes you a lot but like. . .it's a bother and it's embarrassing. . .and what're the chances you're into him? He'll just invite you over to watch movies and play games with him and stuff. . .and tell himself it's fine to just be friends until it eats away at him. . .or until Haru spills the beans for him--

this took way too long because i got distracted like three times in the middle and my laptop started freaking out and i had to figure out why and close and reopen everything about 8 times hahaha. . . . OKAY TIME FOR ME TO GO TO BED! I hope this satisfies you a little bit!!

[damiansgoodgirll]

can u write abt jude defending the reader and also comforting her

jude bellingham x reader

tw : angst? not a main character death but still…

no one can compare

dating jude bellingham took a big change on your life. you went from having 45 followers to have more than a million. you went from being no one to being someone. you went from posting normal selfies to posting professional photos that photographers took of you. you went from working underpaid jobs to work with important brand as nike and gucci.

you knew that everything you had was because of jude and you couldn’t be more grateful. he didn’t mind about you getting important deals because everything he wanted was too see you happy and so if being the face of an important brand made you happy he would tell you to go for it.

he was your number one supporter and you were his. he always reposted everytime you got a deal done and you attended every single one of his matches.

you were like the “it” couple and fans loved you.

well, not all jude’s fans.

a big part of his fan base was made of teenage girls who absolutely hated you and they wanted you to know that.

you couldn’t even post a normal picture on instagram that you would receive comments like “she’s so ugly” “why is jude dating her?” “he could have better” “she was nothing before him” “she only uses him for money”…

the thing was, it wasn’t a normal picture. you posted a picture for your best friend who passed away a few days before. you thought people would understand the situation but that didn’t stop them from saying mean things on you.

that’s how you found yourself laying on the bed and all covered in blankets, drying your tears away while you were going through the comments.

jude was in the bathroom next door and he definitely heard you sniffling. he knew about the comments, he read those comments on the pictures he posted with you and even if he asked his fans to stop the harassment it felt like they wouldn’t even care and that made him ten times angrier.

he carefully opened the bedroom door, not trying to upset you more and went to sit on the bed, in the spot right next to you.

“hey love…” he gave you a sad smile when he saw your red eyes “please…give me your phone baby” he slowly went to get the phone out of your hands and you simply let it fall.

“why are people so mean? my best friend just passed away and all these people can say is how i look fake to their eyes” you cried “i couldn’t care less about what they say about me…but saying things under my best friend’s post? where is the respect everyone is preaching?” you let yourself cry in his arms.

“i know baby…i know you’re hurting” he kissed your head while his hands went on your back.

“it’s not only that…it’s just…everything i do seems to upset them…i know they’re your fans but what have i done to them for make them hate me so much?” you sniffled a little.

“absolutely nothing baby…you’re so perfect and beautiful and they wish they were you…they wish they were here with me instead…they’re jealous and insecure so they feel the need to hurt you and make you feel like they feel about themselves” he told you “they’re jealous because i chose you, not them” he kissed your cheek “and they’re jealous because they can’t compete with you…you’re so kind and beautiful and god, i love you so much darling…no one can compare to you, i love you and only you…” he wiped your tears away and gently posed his lip over yours “you’re my everything…”

“i love you so much jude…thank you”

“you don’t have to thank me baby, it’s the truth…that’s the whole reason i chose you and not them…you’re ten thousand times better” he said and you smiled a little.

he then let you snuggle on his chest while his hands held you closer to his body, gently stroking your hair as you both ended up watching some stupid show on his laptop.

[giorno-plays-piano]

The Lovers That Went Wrong

Pairing: psycho!Aemond Targaryen x reader

Warnings: soft!yandere, kidnapping, threats, non-consensual confinement, manipulation, allusion to noncon, hurt/comfort.

Words: 2.4k

Summary: You flinch involuntarily as you watch him open the door to your room and take a cautious step inside as if he's keeping a dangerous animal as a pet, not a whole other human being. His eyes light up at the sight of you immediately when he sees you at the very same spot where he left you in the morning, still chained, no signs of misbehaving like throwing things around and destroying the furniture. You're not the type.

P.S. Our reader is safe and sound, no physical harm whatsoever.

P.P.S. It's not me, it's those yandere ASMRs on Youtube!

_________

He's here.

You've heard the key turning in the lock. Then, one more key in one more lock. Finally, the third lock has been opened, and then he goes to unlatch the second door before you hear him step inside, carrying something.

Is he going to kill you today?

Trying not to move, you take a shaky breath, eyes on the door. He's going to come in any second, and you don't know how to act to keep him happy. Is there a way to keep someone like him content at all? He's... not normal, that's for sure. Even if you smile and pretend to be fine, chained to his bed with so little room to move left you can't even reach the door, you think he'll see right through it and become angry at you for lying.

Not that ignoring or, god, getting angry at him gonna work either. If anything, making him mad at you is probably the most stupid option you can choose. So you don't. Albeit you wouldn't have the courage for that even if it did change anything for the better.

"I'm home."

You flinch involuntarily as you watch him open the door to your room and take a cautious step inside as if he's keeping a dangerous animal as a pet, not a whole other human being. His eyes light up at the sight of you immediately when he sees you at the very same spot where he left you in the morning, still chained, no signs of misbehaving like throwing things around and destroying the furniture. You're not the type. You're the type to sit and shake in the corner and cry till you feel like your head will explode.

"Hello," you murmur quietly, showing neither anger nor happiness at his return. Keeping the most neutral expression at times when you feel like a rabbit in front of a snake is torture, but better this than having him turn psychotic again.

He smiles at you, exhaling loudly like he was worried you'd start messing things up in his absence. "I see you've been good. That's nice. Thank you."

Nodding, you make yourself eat your words about all anxiety and fear you've had to endure today just to stay sane and stop crying. Being good, huh? Does he have any idea what it feels like to be locked in an apartment of someone who threatened to kill your classmates if you didn't go with him? What it felt like when he had pulled out a knife out of his backpack with a manic gleam right in front of your face and said he needed you to come with him if you didn't want anyone hurt?

You still don't understand how everything happened out of the blue. Aemond... never seemed unstable. He was quiet, sure, and he didn't hang out with other classmates much, but neither did you. He often sat at the back of the classroom, listening to professors with a blank look on his face, and seemed to slack off, then somehow miraculously pass the exams. You've never seen him doing anything special like playing sports or taking part in any university activity. He was just a quiet loner who didn't seem to enjoy studying. At one point, you thought he would drop out or change his major, but he didn't. After more than 3 years, he was still there, at the back of the classroom, sitting with a blank expression as the professors preached about the importance of the thesis for your successfull graduation and future work life.

Then, one day, he just walked up to you after the last lesson had finished while you were gathering your stuff and asked you to stay behind for a short talk. He said he needed to tell you something important. Considering you had spoken maybe five words to him throughout the whole year, you had no clue what he wanted to say, but maybe he needed help or something? You have always been good at studying, so, perhaps, he just needed your advice on his thesis.

He didn't.

Instead, he confessed he liked you and that he was concerned you were going to date someone else from your class - he gave you names of several students you had never even hanged out with - and then he pulled a huge, sharp knife out of his backpack. When you panicked, he grabbed your hand and whispered with that crazed look on his face that he would go and stab your classmates hanging out in the hallway if you didn't go with him.

So you did. You let him take you away, shaking at the thought that he put a knife in the large sewn-in picket inside his heavy bomber, ready to take it the moment you went back on your promise. He was going to stab someone, wasn't he? Given his height and strength, he might have even murdered someone. All because you refused to go with him.

When you think of it now, you wonder what would have happened if you attracted the attention of someone's on the way. Would Aemond really stab them with a knife, given the psychotic state he was in? Would he put a knife through your stomach? Or was it just bluff, and he'd drop the knife and run away, never to bother you again?

You'll never know now. You were so concerned about someone getting hurt you ended up in the apartment of a psychopath with your leg chained to his bed. It seems surreal, like it's all one big prank that's been going for far too long.

"I'm sorry it took me so long," he says, placing a plastic bag with what smells like pasta or lasagna on a little table next to the door. "Work has been hectic, but I'm cutting down my hours to spend more time with you, so you don't have to worry."

You nod, trying not to tremble like a leaf. Spending more time with you? Great. He will kill you soon once he has enough. Don't this kind of guys always do that? They catch their prey, have fun, and then finish them off only to fixate on somebody else again.

That's what's going to happen to you.

"I'll go take a shower real quick, alright?" He asks as if your opinion actually matters, walking by the bed as you instantly move further away on the floor, your back bumping against the bed.

He pauses, turning to you fully as you bite down on your tongue not to let out a sound.

"What is it, baby?" He coos, getting down to you while you stare at your knees, afraid to lift your head and see him staring you in the face. "What happened?"

You flinch as he stretches his hand to you, and he has to pause for a second again before his palm gently lands on the top of your head. He doesn't beat you. Or, well, not yet. Despite him not hurting you within the two days you've been here, you expect him to get violent at one point. Psychos always are, right?

You mumble, worried you'll make him upset, "I'm sorry. It's nothing."

He sighs, to your horror, sitting down right in front of you. He smells like coffee and French fries, and you bite down on your lower lip, remembering he works at some café. Like other people, he has a life outside of this stuffy and yet nearly empty apartment, and in this moment, it seems so strange. That someone like him smells like another human being.

"Are you scared?" He asks in a hushed voice, careful and calm like some sort of therapist. "Is that it?"

Despite all your attempts, you feel like you will cry if he touches you again. Your throat is tight, and you can't speak, so you just nod again, head bowed so you can't see his face.

He sighs again, and you hear him shifting, crawling closer to you like a spider as you squeeze your eyes shut. Will he hit you? Rape you? Do something worse? It's only logical to suppose that. In the end, that's what they do in the movies, don't they? Since Aemond is clearly insane, that's what he'll do to you.

But then, when he sits next to you with his back pressed against the bed's leg, you feel his hands on your shoulder nudging you tenderly towards him, and you don't fight him when he makes you put your head on his chest. Today he wears a long, soft black hoodie that smells like fries, too. It's nice to the touch.

"It's alright," he whispers, making you lean onto him until you are nearly on top of him while he caresses your head. "I know it's sudden for you. You probably don't even know who I am, and then I just come and confess to you like that. It's unfair, I know. I'm sorry I couldn't wait a bit longer."

Yeah, as if it's the problem.

But you don't say anything, eyes closed, as you freeze against his hoodie.

"But, you know, it got so much better. Today a customer splashed me with coffee and sad some really hurtful things, and I didn't even care," you can nearly sense him greening before he drops a quick kiss to the top of your head. "Because I was thinking of you. Waiting for me home, sleeping in my bed, wearing my clothes. I don't remember when anyone last waited me home, you know? And now there's you."

You feel his breath on your skin before he leaves a chaste kiss on your brow, and you curl into yourself even more.

"Thank you for being here with me. I know it wasn't easy for you to trust me, but you still did." He exhales slowly, probably tired after the day in the university and at work, his other hand resting on your back, caressing you through the thick tissue of his dark green sweatshirt he gave you this morning. "Thank you."

You're glad he can't see your face because you are ready to cry any second now. You are scared, and your legs hurt from staying in this position for too long, but Aemond's touch is still comforting, and you yearn someone's body warmth just to ground yourself in this moment to keep you sane.

You are so, so tired. You don't want to die. You want to believe the things he said, the promises he made to you, but he's mad, and so are you if you really want to trust him.

Minutes fly by. You have no idea how much time you spend in his arms, but Aemond seems content, arms still wrapped around you. What is he thinking now? What does he want to do to you? He didn't force himself on you yesterday, but he can tonight. It's just a matter of time, really. And when he finds it's enough, what's gonna happen then?

"Please, don't kill me," you mutter quietly in his chest, eyes squeezed shut.

Your voice startles him awake. Apparently, he was almost lulled to sleep, and now he bends his head towards you again, taking your face in his palms to make you look at him. "What was that? Baby?"

It's torture to open your eyes when his face is inches away from yours, but you do, and then you cry. "Please, don't kill me."

The next second, he opens his pretty blue eyes wide as if you've just slapped him, discomfort clear on his pretty face. What? Is he unhappy you ruined his idyllic evening? Why does he look at you so distressed?

He puts some distance between you two, hands on your shoulders while he looks at you as you're sniffing, tears running down your face. You can't stand it. How long do you have to play his sweetheart before he cuts you in pieces and puts your remains in black plastic bags to dump somewhere deserted? Will he kill you quickly? Will he taunt you and mock you for not even looking at him at university? Will he try to prolong your suffering with drugs?

He shakes when he starts to speak, "I've never wanted to kill you. Never. Why would you think that?"

You let out a laugh at that, hands grasping his black hoodie you like so much. Why would you think a guy who threatened to kill your classmates wouldn't cut you in pieces, too? You have been chained to his bed for two days. It's nice to still be able to go to the bathroom, but that's about it. You have only a couple of books he brought for you to keep you company when he's gone, and god knows how long it's all going to last.

His grip on you gets tighter. "I swear I've never wanted to hurt you. Why did you think that? It's the knife thing yesterday, right? You got scared because I said I'm gonna cut Josh and Matteo." He gets more frantic, and you feel like you're struggling to breathe. "But I wouldn't do that to you. No! I swear. I've never wanted to make you feel bad. And the chain... I-I'm sorry about the chain and everything, but I wasn't going to keep you like this forever! It's... it's just for a couple of months, you know? So you get to know me better. I'm never going to hurt you! You're not my pet to discipline you or something. You're... "

He realizes the state he's in and makes himself stop, lips pressed tightly as he waits, regaining his composure as he's awkwardly trying to wipe away your tears with his sleeve.

Making some small soft noises, he sighs again, rubbing the back of his neck before he's ready to speak. God, why do you want to believe him so badly? Why would anything he say make any sense at all? Why are you hoping he really won't do anything when you have just been kidnapped and imprisoned in his home?

When he speaks again, his soothing voice makes you want to hide your face in his hoodie despite all the things he's done. "I really, really like you, baby. I know it's not much, but it's true. You never have to worry about getting hurt again as long as you're with me. It's a promise."

He coos at you, craddling you in his lap, and you have no strength left to do anything but lean closer to him and hide your face in his soft hoodie.

__________

Tags: @heavenly1927 @yazzzmints @devils-blackrose @lost-and-founds @kennafild @toodlesxcuddles @shygardengalaxy

[obm-avenquire]

Obey Me! Seven Minutes In Heaven Hell

[I’m honouring my rotten god awful roots from hell. Put up with it. I hope this gives someone whiplash. I am writing this both as a joke and with complete sincerity and i wont be explaining myself if you get it you get it if you dont then i hope youll find it entertaining anyway. I used my own deviantart for 2012 for reference for this]

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

Another day, another party in the Devildom. 

You have no idea how any of them have energy for all this - it feels like every week someone will pull some cause for celebration out of thin air and suddenly they’ve hired a catering company and a truckload of helium balloons. Of course, Diavolo - fuelled by his unending fear of missing out and need for enrichment - enables it every time, doing everything he can to get himself and everyone else you know invited. Which is…fine, you like seeing them all. In moderation. At none noisy crowded events. Ah, well. Such is the burden of a dating sim protagonist. Slumber parties at the castle are a little less high maintenance at least.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when Asmodeus calls your name, waving you over with Demonus-flushed cheeks before dragging you away from the balcony and back into the big guest room-turned-common-room-sleeping-area. You definitely think there’s a better way to phrase that, but you barely have time to think when Asmo is pushing you to sit down in the collective circle (his strength always surprises you, and he’s maybe just a little too tipsy to regulate it properly), pressing a kiss on your cheeks before running off to herd together the rest of the group.

You look around the circle, giving Satan an affirming but vague nod that he returns with an equally innocuous smile, which you accept as you always do and go back to your usual little headcount. Belphegor was dozing on the sofa, threatening to sprawl over Satan (who was ‘gently’ repositioning him whenever necessary), Mephistopholes (who had invited himself) was preaching his very special gospel to Beelzebub at the snack table while Asmodeus did whatever he could to wrangle the younger away because his plate was basically just a tower of snacks at this point and he could always get more later so if he would just pleeeeaaaaasssee-

You stop paying attention, instead giving Simeon and Raphael a little wave as they walk in.

“Welcome back,” You shuffle over slightly to make space for the two of them, Simeon sitting down next to you as Raphael decides to stand rigidly slightly off to the side just a little behind the sofa, and just…stay there. Well, whatever makes him comfortable, you guess. “Did Luke arrive safe?”

“He did, thankfully,” Simeon smiles, tucking his phone into the pockets of his trousers, “I can’t believe Serun broke all their bones and had to be hospitalised again. I feel awful not being able to visit, but, well…” He sighs, shrugging, “He wanted to go himself, and insisted he could manage, so…You know how he i-”

“What? I only came because I was promised melon cake!” You’re not sure where Thirteen popped up from, but she’s already on the armchair in the corner, kicking her legs over the armrests as she rolls her eyes. “What a waste of time.”

“Oh! Well, he still finished that, actually, so-” There’s a distinctive arcane shink sound that cuts Simeon off mid sentence. “Now, Raphael, put the spear away, you can’t do that here-” Ever the stickler for manners, it seems. Oh well. Not your problem. 

“Hey, so I’ve been meaning to ask.” Thirteen raises her eyebrows at your voice, pupils knife-like and theatrically bitchy in the dim candlelight.  “Why are you covered in soot.” 

“Well,” She scoffs, clicking her tongue, “Since someone-” She glares at Solomon from across the room, who smiles very nicely and innocently through his conversation with Barbatos- “Decided to ‘dismantle’-” She does incredibly heavy and repeated air quotes with her fingers, “My special little bomb boy it exploded all wrong!”

“I understand completely. I’m sorry someone would ever do something so awful to you, you don’t deserve that even slightly.” She snorts, balling up the tissue she was using to wipe the ashes off her forearm and throws it at your head. It disintegrates in midair before so much as making contact, and you squint over in the sorcerer's direction. He’s not even looking your way, and Barbatos whispers something you can’t make out to him as Thirteen groans and throws up her hands in frustration, sliding into what must be an incredibly uncomfortable position. It doesn’t seem to bother her, though, and she picks at her nails grumpily. Oh well!

“-Stop complainin’ already, would it really kill ya to join in?” Mammon is doing everything in his power to pull Levi through the door by the collar of his coat, but the younger seems to be trying to retract his own head into his shirt like a turtle to try and get out of it. 

“You’re killing me you’re the worst and I hate youandIhopeeverythingbadeverhappenstoyoua-” 

“Yeah yeah whatever. Shut up and sit.” Mammon slings his arm over Levi’s shoulder, dragging him down into the circle just as Lucifer and Diavolo finally come back from whatever it was they were getting done. 

“Lucifer, don’t make that face!” Diavolo nudges his bestest of friends, who looks particularly miserable, even as Barbartos silently refills his glass before they all, too, sit to join, the prince and his right hand man on the final empty sofa, the butler instead choosing to kneel neatly a little off to the side from Mammon and Levi. Satan adeptly shoves Belphegor upwards at just the right timing for Beelzebub to sit down (his twin slumps right back into his shoulder). Mephistopholes complains that there isn’t a proper place to sit til Mammon trips him and he ungracefully tries to pass it off as deciding to sit on the floor as Thirteen barks a sharp laugh at him.

A pleasant hum of conversation settles through the room, Asmodeus stumbling into hugging Solomon, whispering something between the invocation trio that you can’t quite make out before spinning around and clapping his hands together (cutely. It’s important to emphasise that he did this so so cutely) to get everyone’s attention.

“E---veryone!!!” He waits a few seconds for silence, shooting a glare at whoever dares to continue in the wake of this very very important announcement. “It’s time for a very special game! Have we all heard of 7 minutes in heaven?” He bounces on the tips of his feet in excitement despite the lukewarm reception. “Okay well that’s a mostly no then I guess-  Honestly! I know it’s a human world thing, but really?” He pouts, and you note that Diavolo’s visible excitement has increased exponentially already. 

“Allow me to explain,” Solomon cuts in, confirming your suspicion that he’d been somehow roped into this. “Two or more participants are selected - in our case by drawing lots - to go into a closet or equivalent and do whatever they like for 7 minutes.” Everyone seems a lot more attentive, suddenly. “Ah, of course, we’ll be taking magic precautions to make sure that there’s no cheating, and certainly no one breaking into the closet before time is up,” He grins, clearly enjoying this already. 

“The heck.” Mammon grumbles, oddly fidgety all of a sudden, “There ain’t even a closet in here,” Leviathan nods aggressively. He’s sweating. 

“Hm? Oh! That won’t be a problem, haha! Barbatos was kind enough to offer to help out with that,” The aforementioned butler steps aside to reveal a simple wooden door on the wall that decidedly hadn’t been there earlier. “We even made sure it was sound-proofed! You know, just in case.”

“What a curious game! Shall we start right away?” Diavolo beams, inadvertently cutting off Mephistopholes, who’d just opened his mouth to no doubt complain that this sort of juvenile and inappropriate game had no place at a gathering with the Devildom’s one and only prince. 

“Yes!! Everyone write your name on a piece of paper, okay?” Asmo begins handing out paper and pens to everyone, shushing any complaining he meets. “You don’t have to play! It just means you’re boring and no fun and that you’ll never get a chance like this again.” 

Better write your name, then. You’d hate to miss out. 

You watch as Barbatos collects everyone’s paper slips, dropping them into a glass bowl and shaking periodically to shuffle them well. You immediately lose track of yours, so you figure that it’s worked.  After what feels like a slightly inordinate amount of time, everyone seems to have put their name in the bowl - sure, some were more…begrudging or in need of convincing than others, but that’s normal! Anyways-

“Oooo I’ve been waiting for this all evening!” Asmodeus grabs the bowl, tap-tap-tapping along the rim for effect, perfectly manicured nails making a pleasant ASMR-esque tink noise. “Right, first u-”

“Uhm, how do- how do we know you’re, uh, not rigging this?” Asmo whips his head around to stare open-mouthed at Levi.

“Excuse me? I would never-”

“Mm, there’s no guarantee though, is there?” Asmodeus pouts at Satan, grumbling something about being personally offended and making sure to snitch next time Satan asks him for a favour.

“Fine! Since I’m so untrustworthy and awful-” The smile is switched back on as he saunters over to you, swishing the bowl around carefully before holding it out to you. “Why don’t you pick? No one will complain then, right?” 

The silence in the room means yes, presumably.

“Go on hun! Don’t be nervous-” He winks, and your mouth quirks into a smile to humour him, carefully reaching into the bowl for two slips of paper, pulling them out and carefully unfolding them to reveal-

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

[As is tradition, I'll be uploading the individual 'endings' as I write them :) I'll be putting a poll up on my account for who to write first (within reason, I don't think tumblr will let me put up enough options to cover everyone) so feel free to suggest people in the replies/tags too!! there will be no luke option becuz i dont know how to put hardware destroying malware in clickable links yet sory :( feel free to simulate the experience urself tho!!]

[hauntedrabbit]

“Til Death Do Us Part” Leander x MC

Leander x gn!MC

Summary: During a heated argument with Leander regarding his increasing over possessiveness that results in you walking out, he decides to make a last-minute decision that he knows for sure will make you stay. 

Warnings: slight manipulation, Leander being Leander, peer pressure by a crowd of people, forced engagement?, arguing, could count as dark content 

Word count: 1.4k

Author’s note: This one is a bit short 

“Come on sweetheart, let's act like adults and talk this out.” You hear Leander repeat for the hundredth time since the entire conflict has started, you barely even remember what you two were fighting about by this point.

“I have nothing to say to you Leander.” You say firmly while grabbing your bag that was sitting against the wall right next to the door “All you’ve been doing is mindlessly preaching to me about the dangers of Eridia and how you're the one that can help me. When all you’ve done is try and isolate me from the others! You don’t want to help me, you want to own me!” 

Leander stares back at you with a conflicted expression, obviously trying to choose his next words carefully. “I’m not isolating you. I’m trying to keep you safe.” 

“And your definition of keeping me safe is hovering over me all the time like some damn overbearing mother? What’s next you're going to lock me in here?” You continue on as you keep rushing to grab everything you reach, the last thing being the cloak that was gifted to you by Mhin a few weeks ago. 

After securing the cloak around your neck, you quickly yank the door open, hurrying down the hallway and the flight of stairs, making your way towards the loud masses of the wet wick, most of them being bloodhounds.

You can hear the sound of Leander’s boots quickly trailing behind you, with the desperate yell of “where are you going?” coming from him, doing his best to keep up with the fast pace. But by the time he managed to catch up, you were already walking down the busy streets of Lowtown. 

You did your best to ignore him, keeping a steady pace along the stone roads. And although a small part of you felt bad for walking away from him, the feeling of being sheltered like a caged bird was truly too much to handle. 

But before you could even consider where you could even go after storming out, Ais honestly being one of your better options, a rough hand takes hold of your wrist. 

“Please….come on….don’t leave me like this.” Leander’s voice behind you pleads, you almost felt bad for him.

“....It’s for the best. I can’t continue being coddled by you any longer, I’m sorry Leander, I love you, but you left me with no choice.” Your voice slightly quivers as you speak, your lips trembling as you do your best to hold back any tears. No other choice.

But as you twist your wrist in an attempt to free yourself from his hold, sudden gasps from the massive crowd of people catches your attention. But before you could even question it, the feeling of Leander’s arm getting lower paints the picture for you. 

“You do have a choice.” 

No.

“Honestly I was planning on holding this off for a while but…now just seems like a better time.”

No…

“MC, I know we haven’t been..together as long as I would’ve wanted. And our relationship has been a little rocky but that doesn’t change the way I feel for you at all.”

He can’t be serious…

“I’ve loved you since the day I set my eyes on you, and that’s also been how long I’ve known…that I wanted to be by your side forever. So with that, MC…will you do me the honors..”

As you whip your head around you are greeted with the very sight you had prayed to whatever god that existed that what was happening wasn’t real. Leander was currently crouched on one knee while still having a tight hold on your wrist, while in his free hand held a small silver ring, with an emerald resting on top.

The crowd around you continues to stare in awe, with some fawning over his public profession of love, and others scowling in jealousy as they watch one of the most sought out men in Eridia get on one knee. While you could only stare in what you assumed is fear and utter shock. 

“...Of marrying me?” The words come out in a tone that sounds almost too sweet. As if it was blatantly obvious that he was putting all of this on for show, but the crowd wasn’t aware of that, they never would be aware of what monster lies behind that heroic attitude. 

 You couldn’t even speak, every word that wanted to leave your throat coming out in a heavy breath, while to you it might seem like you're currently riddled with pure terror, to other’s it just seemed like surprise caused by your bold lover. That’s probably why as you were still caught in a fear induced trance, the crowd around you began cheering and whistling. 

“Say yes!” You hear from somewhere in the back of the suffocating mob. 

Somehow that alone managed to trigger a multitude of people all damn near screaming at you to say yes, in all honestly it would’ve made you question, was it you getting proposed too or them?

But in the midst of the yelling, you continued staring down at Leander, still being completely silent and hoping that this was all just a nightmare that you will wake up from soon.

“Well…what do you say MC?” You hear Leander asked in an almost taunting voice. You had a feeling that even if he was asking you for an answer, you weren’t going to like what would happen if you even muttered anything along the lines of “no”. And looking back at his face, although his smile was soft and loving, his eyes held a darker intention, as if he was daring you to reject him.

Fighting against every thought in your body that was screaming at you to run, you fix your poster and stare the man down. Although he was pretty much forcing you into a bad spot, he was right about one thing. 

You did have another choice. A choice to stay by his side forever.

With as much courage as you can muster, you take a deep breath before looking Leander in the eye. A small, fake smile plastering your face as you say with quickness..

“Yes”

Leander’s expression shifts fast, going from a mocking grin to a satisfied smile, he had gotten what he wanted yet again.

Quickly slipping the ring onto your bandaged ring finger, he leaps up, trapping you in his arms and landing a deep kiss on your lips. But this wasn’t a kiss out of love, or passion, it was out of possession and control. 

Pulling away, Leander wraps his arm around your shoulder, before turning to the crowd and lifting his arm up, as if he had won a prized trophy.

“They said yes!” 

The horde of people erupt into loud cheers and shouts, some yelling congratulations and others just simply yelling in joy for the two of you. Leander standing at the center of it all doing his own cheers of self proclaimed victory. But as he turns down the yelling, he turns towards you again, a soft smile grazing his lips. 

He lifts his other hand to gently cup your face, pulling you close into yet another kiss, but this time, it was soft, it made you believe that everything was okay for the moment.

But as you were still caught up in trying your best to revel in the gentleness of the short time, Leander’s hand that was resting on your face dips down a little, allowing his fingers to settle against your neck, but before you can ask what he was doing, a soft squeeze on your throat catches your words, rendering you speechless once again. 

Looking up at him, the same daring look in his eyes has returned again, but there was no smile, just a blank stare where that usual welcoming expression should’ve been. 

As the roaring of the crowd began to quiet down again, returning back to its usual chatter as people started walking down the busy streets again, Leander wraps his hand around your own, all but gently pulling you back towards the wet wick. As your eyes catch sight of the bar’s massive sign once again, the feeling of calmness and familiarity that was once there was gone, now replaced with a feeling of terror and dread.

There was truly no escaping him. 

Author’s note: Leander is lucky his tiddies are enough to distract us from his red flags 

[kyrowmee]

ᝰ dying out.

note. no thoughts, short scenario + tw. break-ups & endings, toxic relationship, love died out, onesided love? — no fluff/comfort. just pure angst + scaramouche. an old piece of mine that never made the cut. HEAVILY SELF-INDULGENT!! modern au?

The silence was deafening, although you were sitting next to each other since a long time apart—It feels like he's ever the more farther. as if you were strangers. It felt like you haven't talked in months to the point that, you don't know each other like before—No, it was like you didn't know him anymore.

How long — Has always been on your mind these days, echoing at the back of your head as another voice to listen to when dawn falls.

How long has it been since he last held your hand? How long has it been since he'd tell you the sweetest words, cooing the preaches of his love - how long has it been since he last told you, 'I love you'?

Perhaps a long time, when you cant seem to remember it anymore.

All you can remember are the bleak days of when he'd leave you to months to no end. The reassurances turning into arguments - petty reasons, and the worst part of it all, he makes it feel like YOURE the one at fault. He leaves you, alone in your shared room - letting the ringing silence of guilt eat you up until YOURE the one who apologizes.

How long - How long since he last looked at you? with those loving eyes of him once filled with so much warmth, You wait for him through every night, throughout your relationship you thought he'd be the one. Through every text messages, unread and ghosted - through all the preplanned dates moved just for him.

But for waiting as long as you have, is it worth the wait?

.. How long did you have to wait?

"Kuni-..Kunikuzushi." you call his name even if it feels unfamiliar and bitter rolling off your tongue, no longer calling him the terms of endearment that you both used to go by - because the love had already died out long ago. This was enough.. a mutual want to end it all.

You thought of yourself as a patient person, you could wait. You would always tell yourself during the late nights alone. You can adjust, You can be his greater part, is what you'd tell yourself when you're the one who reconciles with him.

But everyone has limits.

You choke out the words, fumbling with them with the nibbling of your lower lip as you think of what to say, - No, you didn't have to think really. It's obvious what you needed to say and what you wanted to say.

-'Lets Break Up.' Is what's stuck in your throat, clawing like a numbing feeling of abyss staring down at you and the years of your relationship going down the drain, and you can't find the courage to say it.

Not when you still wanted him. Not when you still wanted this.

There was a moment of silence before you talk again, glancing up at him from the corner of your eyes and he doesn't even look at you - Hell, he was doing everything to not look at you by looking at all the passerby that had walked past with more interest he'd ever had for you. That's when you knew - it was like a confirmation that you needed to just say it, there was no going back now.

"Do you.. still love me?" you stare up at him, resorting to other words to term it and it slips from your lips instead of the three words you were trying so hard to say. Cursing yourself in your head because you knew the answer all too well and you knew you were just asking for more pain. You knew it, because the first thing he'd do since getting here - was redirecting his attention to anything and everything that wasn't you.

"Do you really want an answer to that?" You stay silent for a moment, like a domino effect all the words get stuck in your throat and your breath hitches, the pain that flashes in your eyes and the sharp pang reverberating in your chest at the silent answer you knew all to well - But you wanted him to say it. you just hoped, perhaps..

But it was all in vain. Why were you just wasting your time with someone who never even wished to be here?

The fickle confidence that you gathered through the months he left you alone with your thoughts and this withering relationship, for the words to end it all - shatters in the palm of his hands like a fleeting breeze.

Right. Why would you ever work out?

He was always the sun, and you were the never changing moon.

Like the cycle, your relationship goes out like a dim flame of the sun setting upon the horizon.

Ironic that the sun really was setting at this moment and you smile up at him - one that doesn't reach your eyes, 

"The sunset looks beautiful, doesn't it?"

There wasn't any hope, its for the better for us both.

[doctorreidswife]

Up All Night - Aaron Hotchner

You decide to stay up with Hotch while he finishes his paperwork

word count: 723

The paperwork was the worst part of working in the BAU in your opinion. You saw all sorts of things, murder, violence, graphic things that no one should ever have to see, but the most boring, tedious part of working as a behavioural analyst was the paperwork. Filing reports about what happened in specific cases, writing about the evidence you found and an in depth profile of the UnSub. 

It was reaching 1am, and you were finishing up one of your reports that were needed and you decided to take a small break. You stood up and stretched your back out, your spine aching from being sat in your chair for so long. When you lifted your head, you could see your boss, Aaron Hotchner, sat in his office, typing away. You decided to get a coffee and maybe that would wake you up some and while you were at it, you also made Hotch one. Grasping the cups carefully in your hands, you made it up the stairs out of the bullpen and to Hotch's office door that was cracked open. 

"Hey." Your voice was soft as you spoke. Hotch lifted his head to look at you, gesturing for you to come in. You slowly walk into the room, putting one of the coffees down in front of him, perching yourself at the edge of your boss' desk. 

"Thank you..." Hotch started, leaning back in his chair. "What are you still doing here?" He asked, picking up the cup you placed in front of him. You brought your own coffee cup to your own lips, observing him for a moment. His hair was tousled, like he'd run his hands through it repeatedly out of stress. His tie had been loosened and the top button of his shirt had been unbuttoned. He'd taken his blazer off at some point and draped it over the back of his chair, his sleeves rolled up to his elbow, exposing his forearms. You swallowed the coffee in your mouth, not minding the scalding temperature. 

"Doing my reports, sir." You spoke gently, looking down at the cup of coffee in your hands. "I don't have anywhere important to be anyways... Why are you still here? Shouldn't you be getting home" You asked, cocking you head. Aaron Hotchner was the worlds biggest overachiever so you knew the answer. He wanted to complete all of his reports. He smiled softly at you. 

"I need to finish my work, sweetheart. Home can wait for now." He said gently. You frowned. You didn't like that he isolated himself from his home. He deserved to wind down and relax, not stay delved in the world of serial killers and psychopaths 24/7. He preached it to the rest of the BAU - Don't spend all your days in the office. Go and take time for yourself. Hotch loved sending you all on annual leave. He knew you were all resting. You felt bad that he was planning on staying longer and so you made the decision to stay with him. 

"Well, in that case, I'll stay." You offered him a small smile. He wasn't as scary as everyone thought. Hotch shook his head, leaning forwards after swallowing another mouthful of coffee. His Adams apple bobbed in his throat as he did so and you never realised just how attractive this man was. 

"No, don't worry sweetheart, you don't have to." He shook his head, automatically feeling guilty. He didn't want you to give up free time that you could be sleeping and resting on him, especially when all he was doing was sitting and writing his reports. "Go home, get some sleep. I'll be fine here." You shook your head, getting comfy in the chair opposite him. 

"Too late," You smirked, looking over at him, a mischievous glimmer in your eyes. "I'm already comfy. Better get typing Hotch." He rolled his eyes playfully back at you, turning to his computer to start writing. You smiled in satisfaction that you succeeded in keeping your boss company, sitting in the swivel chair, spinning around, observing the room. 

"You're distracting, you know that?" Hotch mused, watching you instead of the computer screen. You flashed him a smile, still spinning. 

"Those reports aren't going to write themselves sir, chop chop."

You were going to be the death of Aaron Hotchner. 

[a-d-nox]

it is my birthday tomorrow: so let's review the predictions i made last year based on my solar return chart

about a year ago, i made a predictions post for my year ahead and now here i am updating y'all with what actually happened as i previously suggested that i would! so let's jump into it - i pasted all my previous predictions in to this post for your reading ease!

1H IN LIBRA AT 12° (contains: scorpio sun and narcissus (37117))

prediction: there is likely to be a relational focus this year and with venus (the house ruler) in the 12h it is likely to be with myself (what us my relationship with my self? how can i better treat myself? etc). my diplomacy skills are likely not going to be the best as i look at the 10h/11h, what is sitting in those houses, and that pisces degree on my 1h... with my scorpio sun present in the house, it is likely that it will be obvious that i trust no one this year (people may suspect that i only trust myself - they could feel as though i look down on them or think little of them). my sun is opposite my moon so i might feel a bit disconnected from myself... with my sun in the 1h, i will likely have a super intense vibe (not that i don't already) but in a way that seems like magnetism because it is a libra 1h? like drawing others in? i do feel like this year is going to be the sort where i am discovering who i am and who i want to be (i just have to make sure it doesn't get out of hand with the sun and narcissus (especially with his conjunction to my sun, mercury, and mars) present).

reality: i still do need to make my relationship with myself better. but it has become very apparent that i need to do so this year. i have been prioritizing things that i don't really care about more than those things i do care about. like money. the focus on money this year is really starting to annoy me can't wait to move on to something else... making money and job related stuff has taken priority over my health, my friends, my family, etc. and making a hobby into a business / job / side hustle has really annoyed me this year because i use to really enjoy doing this but i am starting to really hate it. and it truly is taking up a lot of my time. i work a full time job - i am there 45 hours a week only to come home write posts or readings for another 10 hours a week - that might sound like nothing but its really not in the grand scheme because i am starting to get older and realize that everything is a trade off. that's 10 hours i didn't exercise, i didn't see family, i didn't see friends, etc. and part of that is because i don't appreciate myself the way i should. your 20s are really precious - you are your healthiest, most free, etc. and i am spending it on fleeting things. it is possible one day i could wake up and everything i have done here won't matter - it's immaterial it could just fade into cyberspace. just like my job one day i could wake up and unknowingly it will be my last - the world of technology is ever changing. things are moving faster than ever before and i find myself cling to things locking in while everything around me goes miles a minute. change is happening and i am not letting myself go with it. i want to be my best self - which is a practice i preach to everyone but myself. that being things might evolve here as well as i try my best to live and do so authentically in the coming year.

2H IN SCORPIO AT 9° (contains: scorpio mercury, mars, and kassandra (114) AND sagittarius educatio (2440) and pythia (432))

prediction: what an interesting mix of stuff i have here... money makes the world go round this year i guess. my mercury is at 9° and my mars is at 11° - can i just cry a little...? bro wtf is bitcoin and why do i feel like i am gonna get into the world of online investing...? the coupling of these two planets (especially mars as the 2h ruler) makes me feel as though i will be making money and spending it or moving it relatively quick so that i can't use it? i say "i can't use it" because my mars opposes jupiter which makes me think of compounding interest like a CD... anywho, i am a money wizard? i have kassandra and pythia here, so i feel like i will probably make investments and use my money in unexpected ways (kassandra makes me think of emergency funds OR bad financial contracts though). i also have educatio here so at least i will be learning more about financial literacy plus i do think with mercury i will be extremely interested in learning more about finances. and with mars... it might just become a new passion of mine... aside from money, while i am likely to continue a lot of giving and receiving of knowledge this next year on social media (mercury things), there is a danger to the realm of social media... ESPECIALLY with mars present and both mercury and mars conjunct my sun then all three opposing jupiter... my self worth could take a hit which i do not look forward to.

reality: thank god i didn't touch bitcoin that can stay far far away from me. but yep investing has never been so hard core this year i am walking out of this cycle with a 401k (that has a company match), a new CD, a credit card, and a quarterly bonus type of job. i corporate girlied hard. and on top of that i have done over 100 paid readings this year. i think learning about money is very important in today's world with inflation, social politics, etc the way it is. i will continue to learn about it but i am going to stop pressuring myself as much to make a set amount here especially. also i am going to be VERY careful what influencers (idk any 23 year olds making 6 figures in real life but social media appears to be full of them) i watch because some of them are extremists and not at all realistic... some of the content is good be some of it can be very delulu - my boss told me that a person from my generation came in fresh from college asking for more than even she makes... we have to be for real while also playing the game. i have had a 51.16% increase in income in comparison to where i was at when wrote my predictions last year at this time. so trust me when i say slow and steady wins the race when the job market is the way it is.

3H IN SAGITTARIUS AT 10° (contains: sagittarius ambrosia (193), asclepius (4581), cupido (763), jormungandr (471926) rx, lev tolstoj (2810), and zeus (5731) AND capricorn aphrodite (1388) and chekhov (2369))

prediction: sagittarius and 10° for the 3h is giving "it's all fun and games until someone says/mentions ____". i have to be mindful of my mouth because while i am likely to make people feel alive with my words given ambrosia and asclepius in this house, i also have chekhov (where you want simplicity but receive drama), aphrodite, and jormungandr (where people try to end you - aka getting socially outcasted/cancelled) in the 3h... but lev tolstoj is here too so whatever i am saying that offends others or makes them mad is facts even though there is drama/gossip involved when i do say these things... the dangers of social media part 2? i feel like it may be romantic drama because zeus (i am not a zeus person because there are no aspects to the sun or asc - only a square is made from this asteroid to my venus), cupido, and aphrodite (and for aphrodite there are no aspects made to my inner planets this solar return - so it is definitely not me doing something sus like cheating) are here in the house too. i do have my suspicions as to what is happening already... and oh shiiii will it hurt because 10° is always a bit painful in my opinion. especially with the house ruler in the 8h... it just looks like emotional damage...

reality: when i tell you things that i have said were often misinterpreted or took negatively - i am not joking. i was messing with my boss and i was saying how no one has been using the form and i joked that we should make a new motto "no form, no fulfillment" and she snapped at me "thats a shitty way to do business". i didnt think i said it in a serious manner or anything but its been little things like that all year. me and my big mouth need to learn the power of silence again. and yes there was some romantic drama like the boy from last year calling me out of the blue to tell me he is planning to break up with his girlfriend... like okay? why are you calling me now after basically a year of not communicating with me? also don't bother me when you are with someone, boy. that's what he is too - a boy - because no man would play this type of game. like grow tf up. but alas of course it hurt my feelings because it sort of was flirty and it seemed like he was vetting me out for a potential hookup... it hurt me to hear how little he values me and how little he valued what he started with me to think that a hook up was all that i would be worth and desire.

4H IN CAPRICORN AT 14° (contains: capricorn pluto, balder (4059), and bellerophon (1808)

prediction: a lot of my astro friends who see this chart are like "oh are you moving?" and i am like ABSOLUTELY NOT. like i literally just moved so no. unfortunately (i hate to be this person) i do believe a beloved family member (4h balder conjunct pluto and square moon) will be passing this year. even more unfortunate - i do not think it will be an easy death with bellerophon present because he was thrown from pegasus... and not to be super disgusting, but i do believe i will inherit something expensive and very material given the earthy grand trine formed by pluto, venus, and uranus. that being said i feel like i might neglect my mental health because pluto squares my moon - i might stopping going to therapy (currently i see a therapist regarding my childhood ptsd). i might regress into people pleasing behaviors because it is all that i will be able to control if someone in my family passes... which is not the healthiest for me.

reality: i didn't move! yay thank god cause who has the energy! but the family dog did die this february... i picked her out and everything. so it was sad but she was 15 - she lived a very good life. my grandfather is still heartbroken... its very depressing. my mom had to go to the vet to put her down... but i know she was loved and now she is no longer in pain her last months she couldn't get on the couch, she struggled with having energy, wore a doggie diaper, etc. it was her time. switching gears. i have been neglecting and ignoring my mental health a lot lately just because i don't really have the energy or "time" to take care of it...

5H IN AQUARIUS AT 17° (contains: pisces saturn, amor (1221) rx, and karma (3811))

prediction: this seems like a good mix for me achieving something big with writing/blogging. especially because saturn is the traditional ruler of aquarius and capricorn (which is home - the work i do from home, a side hustle). my outlook for romance is not too good with amor in retrograde in this house nor with freedom loving aquarius ruling this house. not to mention i feel like the world will be showing me something that will cause me to have a grudge against love (saturn) and karma will be dished out. this could also be a sign that my childhood trauma could be triggered again with saturn in the 5h too (great).

reality: my goal was to reach 3k and at this point in time we are almost at 5k here. so goal reached! also unexpected but related i have a project i have been working on for over a year and it complete! which definitely is a 5h pisces saturn moment. but yes i was single the whole damn year. i think the grudge i have about love has a lot to do with my situation reappearing after a year of no conversation despite him saying we are just friends only to tell me he is going to break up with his girlfriend... but he really loves her. if you love her why are you talking to me and why are you calling me basically plotting the break up - it was icky to me... and honestly turned my stomach about love.

project: sunset cross stitch.

6H IN PISCES AT 17° (contains: pisces neptune rx, AND aries heracles (5143) rx and salacia (120347) rx)

prediction: i appreciate the that neptune is retrograde in this pisces house... last thing i wanted was for my health, routine, or hygiene to be confusing/frustrating, avoided, or to constantly be behind / running late / neglected. so this is fine by me. i might be obsessive with scheduling, health, and hygiene because jupiter (this house's other ruler) is in the 8h. it seems like the job hunt is at a standstill with heracles in retrograde - instead, i might get one great option that i take and stick to with given salacia in retrograde.

reality: i actually revamped my google calendar at the beginning of my 23rd year. i am now taking vitamins out of a pill box of all things like an old woman. and i am focusing on my hair health! i sleep with a bonnet on because i am a hard sleeper and its changing the fact that use to have tension breakage. i also am getting into hair oiling! and i did find a job in marketing after not having a lot of luck. so it only takes one person to say yes is very real.

7H IN ARIES AT 12° (contains: aries nn, chiron rx, part of fortune, pandora (55) rx, and signe (459) rx AND taurus moon and vertex)

prediction: it's a toss up as to what all this could mean. i could find myself in a very emotionally charged connection (this is the eclipse moon after all) - with chiron rx it could be the healing of past wounds. the combination of vertex, part of fortune, and north node dictates that any relationship/partnership i find myself in could be extremely significant. with pandora here i feel like it might be unexpected where this relationship will come from. WITH SIGNE HERE i feel like some people may look down on who this person is...

reality: i can officially say i am over my situationship i couldn't say that a year ago - i was too shocked that he cut me off cold turkey and started dating someone knew after telling me many time he didn't want to date anyone. but unexpectedly i did mean some really cool friends who i really get along with so that was very good this year.

8H IN TAURUS AT 9° (contains: taurus jupiter rx and uranus rx)

prediction: oof not my 8h ruler in the 12h - what's that screaming i hear lol? maybe i will be afraid of change - i mean that because of the 12h venus and jupiter retrograde... the combination doesn't really express embracing change and the unknown, you know? the uranus retrograde makes me think i will be moving away from shared finances and working on managing my own money. i definitely believe it is for the best that i keep my opportunities to myself... i don't get the sense people will be supportive of my wins - i more so sense the envy of others from this house. i don't think i will be shocked by my successes, but i feel like others will not see it coming...

reality: i really wrote that and this year can to understand its true - i fear change and i live small because of it and i 100% make my own obstacles. i am really working on ripping my own path with money. and i am learning to share a whole lot less with people because they don't always wish you well... i'm shocked i changed jobs twice. i'm even more shocked that i am changing my mind about my next move educationally and even more shocked to see i am exploring things i would have thought best to leaving in the past.

9H IN GEMINI AT 10° (contains: gemini midas (1981) AND cancer arachne (407) and odysseus (1143))

prediction: mmmm the contemplation to go back to school is real this coming year. it's weird because it might not be for my MFA? like the 9h midas sextile chiron is giving paralegal? nursing? idk but it's not feeling literary oriented... especially with cancer arachne present, i feel like that is nursing/medical-esque... alternatively, midas can be extreme change then add in odysseus, the traveler - i could be going on a trip that changes my life entirely.

reality: i did do a lot of contemplation and it really surprised me to think i should get a certification of some sort - marketing, editing, paralegal, etc. and no i didn't travel at all this year to somewhere long distance. but i did go on some road trips that are opening me up to the world around me.

10H IN CANCER AT 14° (contains: cancer ajax (1404), hannibal (2152), and loke (4862) AND leo agamemnon (911) and arthur (2597))

prediction: it's a REAL toss up how this house will manifest. i feel like sometimes people will love me and find my presence comforting and other times they will hate me and be annoyed by me. this is thanks to the moon ruler in the 7h... and ajax (who squares my chiron)... and agamemnon (who squares my moon)... i say ajax because i think of my 3h this year - i am falling on my own sword in that regard for sure because not everyone will like what i have to say especially when it is likely to be true (3h sag is starting to remind me of a verbal burn). while people are likely to look up to me (10h arthur AND hannibal) or be forced to - because of my status, they are likely to despise me for what i say/said (7h moon AND mercury and jupiter (3h ruler) square arthur). meanwhile, it might not even be me who is the problem i just look like the bad guy for making it more apparent like loki (10h loke).

reality: i am still someone who is tricky to get along with... i annoy my coworkers because i really do think too much at times... and i'm stubborn and cautious... when i was working at the hotel we got snowed in one night and everyone was like happy to be staying over but i was like i don't want to be here i wanna go tf home... but other times when people are being annoying and i am like "you're giving me a headache" my coworkers are like she said what she said and we were all thinking it...

11H IN LEO AT 17° (contains: leo charybdis (388), helena (101), and hestia (46) AND virgo beowulf (38086), juno (3), lacrimosa (208), and silentium (2710))

prediction: i feel like my popularity is going to be a thing / where i am on the social status food chain (high up). but i don't believe i can trust anyone this year... i feel like i am likely to reach big social media milestones with beowulf in this house (and this house being in leo at 17°) - social media might even take over my life a little bit (11h charybis). i do feel like friendships will be very love hate with juno and hestia here - i am likely to be a moderator of sorts but with helena here i feel like someone is going to accuse me of being disloyal because of how i am likely to moderate without bias. i might find myself truly alone again this year because of it (11h lacrimosa and silentium).

reality: i made quite a few new friends this year a lot of people came to enjoy my presence but there was one snake in the garden for sure. i am glad i didn't trust her she was complaining to my boss about me trying to get me fired... i also ran into an ex-friend which caused me a lot of stress and anxiety... but i just hard core avoided her and played cool. it was at my best friend's engagement party (juno here?). but on another note, i do feel more on the outside of friendships than ever before this year.

12H IN VIRGO AT 17° (contains: virgo venus)

prediction: greatttt i thought we were passed this but i guess not.... looks like i still need to work on my self esteem... intuitively, i don't sense social media is going to be kind to me, and i really hope that doesn't mean here. like i am okay if it is instagram (that app is dying anyway) but like here and tiktok are my favorite apps to be in. when bullying is involved though and it is consistent, there is a limitation to that favoritism in which it becomes apprehension to stay for something like a social media in comparison to showing up for myself. there could also be delusions in romance with this set up - i could experience over thinking in a romantic connections with that 12h virgo venus too. karmic relationships are highly probable with this placement too. OR it could be an ex becoming an enemy too (unknown enemies my a$$)...

reality: i didn't face bullying online i found out my bully was in my mind though... i was really not the kindest to myself this past year. i prioritized work and money over my mental, emotional, social, and physical health... and then i had the audacity to get mad i gained 8-10lbs. like no shit girl you have an office job now. so fitness is not just regularly mixed in to my schedule. or not having a boyfriend, seeing friends or family - no shit you spend all your weekends majorly on the couch at home working on your blog or paid readings... maybe i type slow but it takes a lot of time. time i am choosing to spend on making money instead of myself.

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Request Thingie~ 19 with Paladin Danse?

Our Own Problems (Paladin Danse x F!Reader)

Main Master List || Prompt Master List

Author's Note: Thank you for the request! This is my first time writing for Danse! Also thank you @sparklingthedas for beta reading this!!! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: language, spoilers for Blind Betrayal, whomp whomp Danse is sad, reader is sad, everyone is sad

Word Count: 505

The sun barely peeks over the horizon, casting a gradual decline of midnight blue into burnt orange, signaling the beginning of a new day. A lone figure sits at the edge of the river, mindlessly tossing pebbles of various sizes into the water, observing the way the water ripples, mirroring his own life. What was once a still stream has now turned into a violent river.

“Thought I’d find you here,” a voice comments, groggy with sleep as the person stifles a yawn, standing above the man. “How are you doing?”

“How do you think I’m doing?” Danse questions bitterly, internally chastising himself. He doesn’t mean to come off as angry, especially not to you, but sometimes his words are quicker than his thoughts. “I’m not doing well.” It’s not an apology, but he’s hoping that you’d understand. You sit next to him, bringing your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around your legs, resting your head on top. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” The sun continues to creep up along the horizon, beginning to cast light on some of the vegetation around you, but you and him are still clad in shadows.

“What could you possibly do that would help me? Everything I have ever known has been ripped right away from me.”

-POV Switch-

You pause for a minute, staring out into the fading blackness, trying to formulate your opinions. Would this be a good time to admit your feelings? Or at least on the path to them? “You can help us continue to build. Take your mind off of things. It helps me get my mind off of Shaun,” you admit but he doesn’t stir, causing you to curse his stoicalness. Just once you would like to see him show emotions. Here goes nothing. “You can stay here, with me.”

He shakes his head, causing your heart to slowly chip. “That doesn’t really help me.”

Sighing in remorse, you look away from him as tears well up in your eyes. You understand that he’s hurting. You understand that the very morals that he preached about are now in deep, murky, water. But still, he’s not the only person going through stuff. “You make me feel like I’m not good enough.”

“What was that, soldier?” His voice is terse as he looks at you. Even in the dark you can see the raging rapids behind his eyes.

“All I try to do is help you. All I have ever done is try to help you and you’re not grateful. I understand that you’re going through a hard time, but Danse, I am too. My literal son is the head of the fucking Institute, and yet, I still try to put on a smile to help you.” You abruptly stand up, dusting your pants with a huff as his eyes focus on your frame, silent guilt creeping in on him. “Enjoy your thoughts,” with a scoff, you walk away from the former paladin, leaving him all alone again.

Author's Note: So sorry it's super short but I hope you enjoyed it!! Thank you again for the request!