#like was i expecting people to be interested in what kind of mask they make?? no of course not

[howlonomy]

Now I want too see the design of the new mask how did clover affect how it looks did kanakos experiences affect how she designed the mask. Did both of them try too stay as close too the original as possible/try too use some of the old mask in the new mask as a symbolic pice.

new mask is a mix of both!! let go of the past, embrace the future

[hismercytomyjustice]

Ngl I really enjoyed Via’s arc in Sinsmas. She is just SO MUCH like her father that it both delights and hurts me lol.

Their relationship is an interesting take on struggling to try to break the cycle of abuse/neglect.

Stolas grew up with his father not even knowing his name or showing him a shred of affection. He was a means to an end, a tool. The only way he’s ever received any kind of acknowledgement from his father is by doing his duty. Mastering his powers, entering into an arranged marriage, and producing an heir.

You can just so clearly see how he is trying SO HARD to give Via a different life. He wants them to be a family. For her to never doubt her parents love her. To be the father he never had.

To the point he shoves his own wants and needs so far down that he is barely holding on.

Via going from accusing him of not loving her to realizing that he loves her so much that he forced himself to play the role of a good father and husband. To the point he destroyed himself for her…

And that realization just devastates her.

Stolas getting involved with Blitz was the culmination of decades of forcing himself to be the person everyone else expected him to be. He feels he can’t be loved, but he can be useful. And maybe if he’s useful enough, people will care about him.

The reason his connection with Blitz is so strong is because both of them feel that way. The difference is that Blitz was able to create his own found family (tho it took him ages to realize it lol) while Stolas has always been alone. They’re two sides of the same coin. And while Blitz has spent the past few years healing, Stolas has been descending further into darkness because he doesn’t have that same support.

Via has absorbed so many of his insecurities. Especially the fear of not being loved or wanted despite Stolas trying SO HARD to be the perfect father to her. But he’s not. He can never be because he forgot the old adage of “put your oxygen mask on first before helping anyone else.”

I think that definitely can come across as him being neglectful of her. But to me it speaks to his desperation to be such a good father to her that he tries to hold himself to IMPOSSIBLE standards.

He doesn’t fail Via because he doesn’t care. He fails her because he keeps setting up these unrealistic expectations for their relationship. He massively overextends himself and puts his own wants and desires on the back burner so often that his life is imploding around him out of his control.

He doesn’t miss the stars with her because he doesn’t care. He misses them because he’s struggling to put his life back together after finally taking some initiative for himself. He’s trying to deal with the fallout of wanting a divorce from Stella, but he’s waited so long and he’s so overwhelmed by it all that the date slips his mind. And the instant he realizes what’s happened, he drops everything and goes looking for her.

Via keeps watching him make these promises he struggles with or fails to keep and doesn’t realize until she finds all of the happy pills how much he’s overextended himself for her sake. And because she’s her father’s daughter, she immediately thinks she’s at fault. She thinks he would be happier if he hadn’t forced himself to play house all these years for her sake.

She’s not wrong. If he’d separated from Stella years before, they’d probably all be better off. But he didn’t because of his sense of duty. Stolas’s problem is that he never advocates for himself until he reaches his literal breaking point. By then, the damage is more of a tsunami than a ripple because now his meticulously crafted house of cards is falling down around him faster than he can pick up the pieces.

Via is right that he would have been happier, but not for the reasons she thinks. He did it because he loved her, not out of obligation for her. And also because he is deeply broken and flawed.

Via’s dealing with a lot of complicated emotions too. Her father was willing to sacrifice himself for his affair partner, which she initially believes means he’s picking Blitz over her. But really it’s just Stolas trying to save the only other person in his life who understands him and who maybe cares about him.

How could he live with himself if he let Blitz die?

And it’s not like Stolas has time to sit down and think of a rational plan. He rushes to the trial because Blitz is literally about to be decapitated. And then he saves him the only way he knows how. I think part of him was also convinced that, as much as he loves Via, she might actually be better off without him because he is a wreck. He’s convinced he’s ruined his life and the lives of everyone around him.

I think this is why he doesn’t fight Stella much for custody of Via. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he genuinely thinks Stella is a more stable parent than he is and that Via will be better off with her as a result. The man also lacks a backbone too tho because his self worth is -9000.

But then Stolas doesn’t get executed. And the consequences of his actions hit him like a ton of bricks once the adrenaline and panic wears off. He saved Blitz, but at what cost? And, based on his statement in Sinsmas, it sounds like he would’ve done it all over again if given the chance. Because he’s the one who let Blitz use his grimoire even though he knew it was wrong. Because Blitz was in danger of dying because of him. And because he has a very strong sense of morality and justice too.

Dying in Blitzo’s place was a spur of the moment decision and once the dust cleared, Stolas realized how everything he’s tried to do to keep his shit together has fallen apart at the seams and now everyone knows it.

All Via can see when she looks at him now is that he’s hit rock bottom because of her. Again, not true. But Stolas has tried so hard to give her this idyllic family life, thinking that was the best thing he could do for her. Not realizing that she could see the cracks forming. She just didn’t understand why there were cracks until now.

I don’t think Via actually hates him. I think she hates herself. Convinced she’s the reason he’s hit rock bottom. Why couldn’t she see how much he was suffering? Why would he suffer so much for her? So she’s taking herself out of the equation, just like he tried to with Blitz. If she’s not in his life anymore, maybe he’ll stop killing himself to try to make her happy. Maybe he’ll stop being so miserable.

I think a big part of their arc together has been her going from thinking of Stolas as this perfect and larger than life figure to seeing him start to crumble and now getting a peek behind the curtain and realizing how much of that wasn’t real. And it scares and upsets her that her dad isn’t the perfect person he’s tried to be for her. He’s broken and hurting and she doesn’t know what to do to help because he’s spent her whole life focusing on her.

Not to say that he’s done that well. He genuinely hasn’t. He’s overcorrected so hard that he’s fucked her up in a completely different way because he’s overextended himself. He pushed himself until the illusion of a perfect happy family cracked along with him. He’s also made it difficult for her to know how to help him because he’s sheltered her so much.

I think this sometimes makes Stolas come across as selfish. He seemingly “ruined” his marriage and his relationship with his daughter for Blitz. But really it was just the pendulum swinging wildly in the opposite direction. He was so starved for happiness and connection that now he’s trying to live two separate lives and it’s just not possible and he’s falling apart even faster.

Stolas was so desperate for affection and to be of use that he lets Blitz have his grimoire, under the impression Blitz is attracted to him because Blitz literally tried to seduce him to get it. He also does all of the dirty talk because he thinks Blitz likes it.

I think he initially sets the terms for the grimoire usage because he thinks it’s a price Blitz is more than willing to pay because he showed up trying to seduce him. I think he l also just really wants an excuse to see/spend time with Blitz too. It doesn’t even cross his mind that Blitz might want anything other than sex from him. He’s once again playing a role based on what he thinks is expected of him.

It’s not until Stolas discovers he’s starting to develop feelings for Blitz that he realizes their arrangement is wrong. And the moment he realizes it, he immediately tries to make amends. He hopes Blitz will admit he has feelings for him too, but is willing to step away if not. But he also cares about him so much, he makes sure to give him the Asmodean Crystal so he can freely make the choice.

Meanwhile he has no idea Blitz will just view this as another person trying to abandon him or look down on him. Because Blitz struggles with self worth too and believes the only way people will care about him is if he can be useful. Blitz has a deep seated fear of abandonment while Stolas fears no one could ever love him just for himself. He offers Blitz the crystal to let him know his feelings are genuine and to gauge Blitz’s too.

All of this is to say that I think Via and Stolas will reconcile, hopefully sooner rather than later. I think Via needs some time to process who her father actually is vs who she thought he was. And both of them need to be able to forgive themselves/grant themselves some grace so they can finally meet each other in the middle like Stolas has finally managed with Blitz. Stolas needs to accept Via is grown up now and he can’t shield her from the negatives of the world forever. Meanwhile Via needs to understand everything doesn’t have to be so black and white.

[htaesan]

　ᅠ ✿　ᅠ WHERE NO ONE KNOWS ME 　　────　ᅠ ( lee heeseung )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀after a long day of relentless fame, you find yourself in the comfort of a small cosy coffee shop, only to be met with a barista who treats you like any other person. in his quiet kindness, you find something worth living for again𑁋a place to be unknown, and maybe the start of something more.

　　　ᅠ 이희승 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 1.4k ⠀ genre fluff meet cute barista au non idol au ⠀ contains mentions of food ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net

　　　ᅠ note ᅠ from ᅠ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈 ! ᅠ i.. have no idea how i managed to pull this off amidst having like 10 reports to write but i pulled through !! happy birthday @flwrstqr, this is for you !

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

THE city lights blur around you as you step out of the car, pulling your mask over your face. You sigh, taking in the view around you—everyone is busy with their own lives. Some are walking, hand in hand with their partner; some are on the phone, talking to someone on the other side with no care in the world; and some are enjoying a stroll through the city’s nightlife. Ordinary, simple, tranquil. 

And that is all you want. 

Your schedule has been busy these past few months—brand deals rushing in like a massive flood, photo shoots every other day, interviews here and there, paparazzi and flashing cameras everywhere you go, people recognising you and taking videos of you anywhere. You didn’t expect it to turn out like this. You didn’t expect that your debut album, filled with songs which lyrics you heartfully wrote and melodies you intricately built, would blow up almost instantly over the course of three weeks. And the hype hasn’t died down, even after six months. It just got bigger and bigger. 

It’s not like you don’t like it—your fame is what you rightfully deserve after all the sleepless nights working to make sure your debut is as perfect as possible. But now, you’re tired, and it’s like your life isn’t yours anymore. 

You take a deep breath, eyes glued to the café in front of you. It looks cosy, tucked into one of the only quiet streets of the city. The warm glow radiating from its windows pulled your interest. You walk towards its entrance, realising that this place is near your apartment, but you’ve never had the time to visit. Not until now. 

You push the café door open, the warm air bursting against your face. You scan the small space—there’s a few customers, but so far, none of them are paying attention to you.

You gulp. You can’t let your guard down just yet. 

You approach the register, lowering your cap down as you instinctively prepare to lower your voice—an attempt to mask your well-known identity, even though the entire country already knows who you are just from one look at your eyes. 

From the other side of the counter, the barista is cleaning a mug. He looks a little too stylish—perhaps a little too good looking to be working in such a tranquil place. He perks up at your presence, and you immediately look at the name tag pinned against his apron. 

Heeseung. 

“Welcome,” he says, his smile polite and his voice calm. You narrow your eyes at the black-haired man in front of you. 

He didn’t let out any gasp of recognition, and there wasn’t any frantic energy radiating out of him. 

You pause. 

This is new. This is weird. 

“What would you like to order?” he asks, fingers ready to key in your order into the iPad in his hand. 

You clear your throat, ordering a drink and a dessert for yourself, your voice steady but alarmingly cautious. 

“A caramel latte and a pavlova, please.”

“Alright. Name?”

The world goes silent for a minute. You look around rather anxiously. For a moment, you think everyone’s listening. 

“Elle,” you lie. 

You watch as Heeseung raises a brow at the way you’re eyeing him, but he doesn’t do anything about it. He keys in whatever you’ve told him, then he nods at you before turning to make your order. 

You linger at the counter for quite a while before retreating to a table at the corner of the café, away from everyone else. 

It’s weird. Why is he treating you like any other person here? Doesn’t he know who you are?

You sink into your chair, letting the cushions embrace you. You lean against it, letting the exhaustion settle in. The day’s events rush to your head, and it makes you feel like you’re spinning. 

And it makes you question Heeseung too. 

Every second you’re outside, you have to keep your guard up, in case of anything. You can’t really do what you like, afraid that it’d make you face ridicule. You have to make sure you’re always donned up, and you have to make sure you’re following all of the other ridiculous rules society sets upon you—you never know when people are watching. 

But why isn’t Heeseung treating you like everyone else does? Why doesn’t he treat you like you’re the most perfect person on earth? Why isn’t he analysing your every move, waiting for some kind of mistake that he could bring you down with?

“Excuse me,” Heeseung’s voice rings through your ears, and as you eyes flutter open, you don’t realise you’ve been dozing off. He gives you a polite smile, a tray with your drink and your dessert in hand. 

“Here’s your order, Elle,” he says, setting down the mug and plate on the table. “Enjoy.” 

You sit there, frozen as you don’t know what to do.

Then, as he’s about to turn to leave, the question that’s been lingering around in your head leaves your mouth without you realising. “Do you know who I am?”

Heeseung pauses. “Yeah.”

“Who am I, then?” you ask, and albeit the awkwardness, you meet his eyes.

“You’re Y/N,” he replies, his voice quieter this time. 

Your chest tightens. 

“Then… why aren’t you acting like everyone else?”

Heeseung gives you a small smile, and you feel goosebumps jolting through your body. “Because you’re you. You’re a celebrity, you’re a talented singer, and you’re beautiful—I admit that. But I don’t see why I have to make you uncomfortable over those facts.”

Your eyes widen, and something begins to stir in your chest. 

When you don’t reply, Heeseung’s smile shifts from something more genuine back to his polite, customer-service smile. He turns and walks away, leaving you watching him in a complete daze. 

Your heart is hammering against your chest, more violently than you expected it to. 

When was the last time someone ever saw you as just a person, not as a celebrity?  

You take a glance at Heeseung, who’s back to his work behind the counter. Suddenly, you notice everything—the way his sleeves are rolled up at just the perfect angle, the way his brows furrow when he’s focused on making another drink, and the way his black hair falls on his forehead, and the way he looks just… perfect. Cute, even. 

You remember his small smile, and the way it tingles you in a way you’ve never felt before.

Your fingers tighten around the warm mug. 

For some reason, this fuzzy feeling that’s filling up your heart feels rare. 

You don’t even realise you’ve finished your latte, and that your pavlova is completely devoured. You’re too lost in thought to even realise how much time you’ve spent in the cosy little café.

Quickly, you take your things and pull your mask up to your nose. For some reason, you hesitate as you approach the counter. 

But then, some kind of nervous energy rushes through you, and you quickly scribble a note on the napkin you’re holding. 

Thanks for your kindness. It made my day. 

You hand Heeseung the money, slipping the note with it. 

Heeseung immediately notices the napkin. He looks down, his eyes scanning the words.

When he looks back up, your eyes meet, and you give him a small eye smile. “See you next time,” you say softly. 

And for the first time in a long while, you actually mean it. 

Heeseung watches you walk out the door of his café, the small bell hanging on top of it chiming as the door closes. He leans against the counter, fingers tracing the edge of the folded napkin. Once you’re out of his sight, and the café settles back into its usual rhythm, his focus turns to the note. He unfolds the napkin, his eyes scan the neat handwriting. He chuckles—there’s something just adorable about it.

Thank you for your kindness. 

He smiles. 

It made my day. 

The quiet smile on Heeseung’s lips grows larger. His mind replays the memory of you: how you looked so at peace, sipping the hour away at the corner of the café that he worked hard to establish. He remembers looking at you, and in the midst of admiring how pretty you actually are, he realises that you’re different from what the media made you out to be. Quieter, maybe. Softer. More beautiful, definitely. Less of the dazzling, perfect, and untouchable figure he sees on the billboard everywhere he goes. Instead, you’re more… human. 

His gaze flickers to the door, where you stood a few moments ago. 

Would you come again?

He dearly hopes so. 

― © htaesan, 2025.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀want more like this? check out the 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

[ohmygraves]

it started off as a prank.

soap and gaz were fooling around, really. nothing too serious, not expecting much from it. hell, the account was in soap's phone. ghost didn't even know anything about it.

the two created a tinder account for the lieutenant, just to see what kind of people would be so inclined to message a masked man like him.

photos were taken candidly, most of it from soap's own stash (don't ask). something more serious was cropped from group pictures, from either the bar or during a mission. gaz thought of the introduction, with little embellishments to make it more ridiculous. the goal was to see how many would swipe right to the scary, masked lieutenant.

of course, the sergeants were surprised to see so many match notifications, to the point that soap's phone would just erupt with notification sounds, even during briefings. safe to say, the poor scot got in trouble, and ended up turning off the notification for the app.

most of the matches seems to be coming from a place of lust, a lot of requests of one night stands or fuck buddies (what is it with people who liked masked men, the two thought). many seemed very forward and to the point with what they wanted. it was ridiculous trying to scroll through the first messages and reading them one by one.

but then there's you.

you: hello, i feel like i've seen you before. are you staying at the base near (location)?

soap and gaz thought your first message was interesting. it could be that you knew the lieutenant somewhere, or had seen him at least once. you seem to be a real person too, judging from your profile. photos of you indicated as such.

gaz wanted to call it quits, ghosts you just like every other match that they received, but soap wanted to take it a step further, even if gaz was completely against the idea. bickering for a while, soap ended up sending a text, and that's how you started talking to "ghost".

ghost: yeah. do i know you from somewhere?

soap had expected it to be a flirting attempt, though he was surprised to see an actual answer.

you: oh, i think i've seen you a few times outside of the base.

you: i frequent the café nearby ^^

oh, you're so cute and innocent, soap kinda felt bad for lying now.

ghost: i see

ghost: perhaps i'll see you sometime too? ;)

soap got addicted to posing as ghost. the two of you texted back and forth during his break, sometimes even at night. soap stayed up and missed some sleep just for some elaborate joke that kept going and going, and gaz was just tuning into the drama too.

everything was fun at first, not everyday the scot got to roleplay as the lieutenant, especially since the man was such a dry texter. it was funny trying to come up with an awkward reply or even just flat messages when talking to you. you were just so nice and oblivious to it though.

soap nearly lost his marbles when you asked to meet up in the cafe near the base, and asked when it was possible. you knew that soldiers frequently are given a leave, so perhaps "ghost" would love to meet you when he had the time. the scot was sure that he went too far this time, earning "i told you so" look from gaz even when he's clearly also enjoying the shenanigans.

they decided that it's finally time to come clean to the man in question.

ghost, of course, was furious. not only that this was a violation of privacy, soap and gaz had wasted a random person's time because of some elaborate joke that went too far. now they even want to meet with him too.

soap thought that the only way to fix this was just to inform you as well. it was only fair as you're also affected by this. hell, he didn't even know that his "casual" flirting (which was a loose term considering ghost's texting habits that soap adapted for this roleplay) would be enjoyed by someone, even getting the lieutenant a date too. the scot insisted that you two still meet anyway, and that he would be there too to apologize.

ghost, of course, was definitely against it. he had been dragged into this against his will, and it's not like he had the time too. why would he entertain the two sergeants who got him into this mess—

but perhaps just a cup of tea with a beautiful person like you would be nice... perhaps...

reluctantly, ghost agreed to the date, letting soap talk to you to set up a time and place. while looking at your pictures and the past conversations, he didn't seem to mind that he's now on some sort of a blind date...

[sst4rdst]

synopsis : your family arranged your marriage to childe, the eleventh harbinger of the fatui, due to financial hardships, and now you are bound to him as his spouse. pairing : childe x reader (no gendered pronouns used for reader) warnings : yandere themes, unhealthy relationships. author's note : got a little carried away with this one oops, sorry, it might happen again.

[ scaramouche version ]

you don’t remember when your life stopped feeling like your own. perhaps it was the moment your parents sat you down in the dimly lit drawing room, voices careful, measured, lips curling around words like duty and family as if trying to soften the inevitable blow. perhaps it was when the contract was placed in front of you, thick parchment with ink that had long since dried, sealing a fate you had no hand in choosing. or perhaps it was even earlier than that—before you knew his name, before you knew what it meant to be given away.

the tsaritsa’s harbinger. a man with a name spoken in equal parts fear and reverence. childe, they called him, though his real name was something softer, something ill-fitting for the bloodied path he walked. ajax, a name you only learned later, spoken in rare moments of vulnerability, whispered like something fragile, something not meant for you to hold onto. but it didn’t matter what he was called—only that he belonged to the fatui, only that he was dangerous, only that he was yours. 

or rather, that you were his.

you had met him only once before the wedding, a meeting arranged in the grand halls of your estate, where everything smelled faintly of desperation, of your family’s dwindling fortunes masked behind ornate furnishings and forced smiles.

he had arrived unannounced, without the pomp and spectacle one might expect of a man of his standing, dressed in dark fatigues that contrasted the opulence surrounding him. his presence was suffocating, not because he was outwardly cruel or unkind, but because he was too much. too confident, too self-assured, too at ease in a situation that had unraveled your entire world.

and then there was the way he looked at you.

it wasn’t love—not in the way fairy tales spoke of, not in the way little girls dreamed of when imagining their futures. it was something else entirely, something far more unsettling. interest, amusement, possession. a hunter’s gaze locking onto prey, not in an overtly threatening way, but in a way that left no room for escape. his smile had been easy, practiced, charming in a way that made you wonder how many people had fallen for it before you.

and then, in a voice dripping with amusement, he had said, “i hope you won’t make this too difficult.”

difficult. as if you had any say in the matter. as if you could change the outcome by sheer will alone.

the wedding had been swift, devoid of sentiment, the kind of affair that was meant to cement alliances rather than celebrate love. you had been dressed in the finest silks, adorned in jewelry that did little to disguise the hollowness in your chest.

the ceremony itself had passed in a blur—an exchange of vows that meant nothing, a kiss that barely grazed your lips, a hand placed against the small of your back that was just firm enough to remind you that there was no turning back.

and now, you are here. his home, your home now, though the word feels foreign on your tongue. the estate is grand, a testament to his wealth, to the power he holds within the fatui.

it is quieter than you expected, devoid of unnecessary extravagance, yet there is something undeniably suffocating about it. maybe it’s the knowledge that you are alone here, trapped in a life you did not choose. maybe it’s the weight of his presence, a constant, inescapable force lingering just out of sight. you barely see him during the day, but you feel him.

a brush of fingertips against your wrist when he passes by, a weighty gaze that follows you even when you pretend not to notice. he does not demand your affection, does not force his presence upon you, but his patience is not born of kindness. no, it is the patience of a man who enjoys the chase, of someone who knows that time is on his side.

"you’re unhappy." his voice cuts through the silence one evening, casual, conversational, yet laced with something heavier beneath the surface. he leans against the doorway, watching you with that same unreadable expression, head tilted just slightly. "i expected that much, but i have to admit, i thought you’d have warmed up to me by now."

there is no malice in his tone, no anger—just curiosity, as if he is studying a puzzle he has yet to solve.

you swallow hard, gripping the edge of the chair you sit in. "what do you expect, childe?" the name tastes foreign in your mouth, too personal, too familiar for a man who still feels like a stranger. "you bought me like a commodity. what reaction were you hoping for?"

for a moment, he says nothing. then, he laughs. it is a soft, breathy sound, something genuine, something that unsettles you more than outright cruelty would. "bought?" he echoes, amused, pushing off the doorway and taking slow, deliberate steps toward you. "that’s not entirely fair. i didn’t buy you—i saved you. do you think your family would have lasted another year with their debts?"

his words sting because they are true.

"would you have preferred another husband?" he muses, stopping just before you, close enough that you can see the shift in his expression—the flicker of something darker beneath the easy smile. "a greedy noble twice your age? or maybe some merchant with wandering hands? at least i’m young. at least i care about what’s mine."

you bristle at the implication, jaw tightening. "i don’t belong to you."

childe hums, reaching out, fingers brushing the curve of your jaw—gentle, but unmistakably possessive. "no," he concedes, "not yet."

it is a warning. a promise. a game he fully intends to win.

the room feels smaller with him this close, the space between you insignificant, irrelevant, nonexistent. you don’t want to move, because moving means acknowledging the tension, means playing into the game he’s laid out before you, and yet, staying still is somehow worse. because he watches you like you are already his, like your resistance is nothing more than a delay, a brief inconvenience to a victory he is certain of.

his fingers linger against your jaw, a featherlight touch that betrays the force lying dormant beneath it. you know what he is capable of. you know the stories, the whispers of what the harbingers do to those who oppose them. and yet, there is no outward malice in his touch—only patience, amusement, a quiet kind of satisfaction that makes your stomach twist into knots.

"you don’t have to like me," childe murmurs, tilting his head slightly, as if examining you from a different angle, searching for a crack in your resolve. "not yet, anyway. that part will come later."

the audacity of it makes your breath hitch, your fingers curling against the fabric of your sleeve. you should snap at him, push him away, do something to make it clear that you are not a willing participant in whatever twisted fantasy he’s weaving. and yet, the words stick in your throat, because, deep down, you know they wouldn’t change a thing.

childe isn’t the type to be swayed by defiance. if anything, he welcomes it.

his hand finally falls away, as if he’s indulged himself enough for now, as if he has already won something just by standing here, just by making you react. he takes a step back, not far enough to give you relief, but enough to make you realize how much closer he had been than you’d allowed yourself to notice.

"get some rest," he says, as though this is just an ordinary conversation between spouses, as though there isn’t an entire chasm of resentment and fear between you. "you look exhausted."

and then he’s gone, leaving you to unravel in the silence, heart pounding, hands trembling, the ghost of his touch still burning against your skin.

you do not see him for days after that. or rather, you do not speak to him. his presence is everywhere, woven into the very fabric of this house, a constant reminder of the reality you now inhabit.

servants move with quiet efficiency, always polite, always distant. you learn quickly that they do not see you as their patron, not in the way that should matter. their loyalty lies with childe, and though they treat you with the respect your position demands, you know that none of them would dare disobey him for your sake.

it is suffocating. and yet, a strange sense of relief settles in the absence of his direct attention. you begin to navigate the estate cautiously, taking solace in the gardens where the air is fresher, where the walls do not feel quite as close. you avoid the grand halls, the spaces where his presence is strongest, and for a brief moment, you convince yourself that this life, while miserable, is at least bearable.

then the gifts begin. at first, they are small. a necklace draped over your vanity, delicate silver with a deep blue gemstone, the color eerily reminiscent of his eyes. then, a silk shawl, impossibly soft, folded neatly at the foot of your bed.

the gestures are not extravagant, not enough to make a spectacle of, but they are persistent. unrelenting. you do not thank him. you do not acknowledge them. but you know that he is watching. and you know that he is waiting.

the inevitable confrontation comes late one evening, when the house is quiet, when the world outside is blanketed in darkness. you had thought yourself alone in the sitting room, curled beneath the glow of the fireplace, trying to lose yourself in a book you barely comprehend. but the air shifts before you hear his footsteps, the faintest change in pressure that sets your teeth on edge, that tells you that he is here.

"you don’t like the gifts."

his voice is light, conversational, but there is something beneath it—something sharp, something dangerous. you do not turn to look at him, keeping your eyes fixed on the pages before you, fingers curling against the binding.

"you don’t have to give me anything."

a chuckle, low and amused, as he steps further into the room. "that’s not what i asked."

you finally glance up, and there he is—leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable save for the glint of amusement in his eyes. it is infuriating, the ease with which he exists in this space, as if he hasn’t uprooted your entire life, as if he belongs here.

you inhale slowly, measured, keeping your voice steady. "what do you expect, childe? that i’ll wear your gifts and suddenly fall at your feet?"

his lips twitch into something that is not quite a smirk, not quite a frown. "no," he says, and then, after a pause, "but it’s a start."

you want to scream. you want to throw the book in your hands at his face, want to shatter the illusion of patience he so carefully maintains. but you do none of those things, because you know, deep down, that he is waiting for you to break.

and so, you turn back to your book. ignoring him was a mistake.

before you can react, he is there, closing the distance between you in a single step, his hand gripping the arm of the chair, leaning down just enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your temple. "you can pretend all you want," he murmurs, voice soft, almost gentle. "but you’ll have to talk to me eventually."

your pulse hammers against your ribs, but you force yourself to remain still. "and if i don’t?"

he hums, as if considering it, before his fingers brush against yours—not harsh, not forceful, but firm enough to remind you of what he is here, even if you try to ignore him.

"then i’ll just have to try harder," he muses, his grip tightening, just barely. "you’re my one and only, after all."

it is a claim, a reminder, a leash tightening around your throat. and no matter how much you struggle, you know that he will never let you go.

[sexydoffyman]

Weird request but how would TF141+König and Alejandro react to meeting an orphan around 15 years of age who's like extremely talented in engineering, mathematics and physics, like they could build a rocket if they had the materials ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It can be HC, whatever you want! I was thinking maybe said orphan got in trouble with the government for unknowingly building some sort of weapon, maybe it was stolen? Twist that however you wish.

Just ignore this ask if you wanna <3

A KID?

genre: action

characters: König, Simon Riley, John MacTavish, Alejandro Vargas, Kyle Garrick

A/n: expect a lot more mistakes. Also thinking this needs a second part.

It’s been 6 years now since the war began. You were left stranded. All by yourself. Left on your own by everyone. Living was hard, but you pulled through. You learned how to do a lot of shit since you were there only with yourself for some time. Building stuff. That was your biggest interest.

You were constantly making things. New weapons mostly. You were always moving, never staying in one place for too long. You got brutal throughout the years you were alone. You took the uniform of a dead soldier. To blend in. You were mistaken for a recruit and pulled inside a helicopter by a military dude.

The military was a great provider of food and healthcare. So you just went along with everything they threw at you. Your knowledge of building shit helped out a lot. And even when some dude figured out you were a kid he let you stay.

The same dude put you in a task force with a man he trusted. You were cautious of everyone in there, but at least you had some people who you could trust a bit.

You picked up how things work from the years of pretending to be a soldier. Pretending to be an adult was getting easier and the task force you were assigned to found a place in your heart.

“There’s gotta be a way.” You finally snapped out of thinking about life before the war. You thought that the military would be a great cover. But now all your hope of making it out alive hit zero. You were stuck and with gas slowly filling the room that you and the others were in you knew your chances of survival were low.

You sat in the corner of the room. You had given up a few minutes ago already. The others were still trying to figure something out.

Suddently you felt something inside of you snap. You were not gonna die today. It must’ve been the panicking of the rough men infront of you that made you have that feeling. You started to search for a solution.

You found a small vent. It was too small to fit a grown man in, but you were not a grown man. You took off your gear and crawled into the vent unnoticed by your team.

You finally got to use the skills you gained. You crawled through the vent and dropped down from the ceiling right on the other side of a door that the rest of your team was trying to open. You managed to get inside some kind of an electrical system. You cut some wires and reconnected some other ones. The door opened with a space in between the doors just a centimeter big.

Grabbing a metal piece from the electrical you prayed the door open. You were met with the looks of your crew. You looked down and put your hand above your forehead to block your face. By now all of them realized that you weren't of age.

You ran into the room to grab your gear while your team gave each other a disgusted glance. “We need to get out of here ASAP,” you said as you walked away from the room. Price grabbed you by the shoulder to stop you. You turned to him with your mask on now.

“How old are you?” he was looking at you worriedly while he said that. You didn’t know what to answer and so after a few stutters you answered “Classified” This only made them feel more curious.

It has been days since that mission and nobody brought up the fact that you were a kid. You did notice that Price stopped shouting orders at you and started just saying them in a normal calm tone. Soap was making more small talk with you than usual. Ghost was staying closer to you, knowing you might not be able to fend off an enemy. Gaz was making sure to double-check your gear.

When you teamed up with Mexican special forces and met Alejandro you were given tasks that you’d be on with multiple people.

When you were stranded from the team, finding your way to a spot they could locate you at, you met another dude. Austrian and huge. Big dude. He was your enemy, but it didn’t take him long to find out that an adult dude would have a little more strength than you did. He forced your mask off and found out that you were in fact a kid.

Instead of killing you, he spared you. Helping you locate your tram instead of them having to look for you.

Would you survive the next missions? That you don’t know. But you do know that you don’t have to worry about pretending to be an adult.

[satsugacafe]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐀𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐧’𝐬 𝐅𝐚𝐜̧𝐚𝐝𝐞

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: hellooo love ur blog <3 can I request hcs for soul society!aizen with a reader who isnt charmed easily and is a bit skeptical of his façade?

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: I was originally going to turn this into a fic (even though you asked for headcanons), but I was running out of creativity juices to keep it flowing :( It just sounded like it would be a great fic.

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: When you don’t fall for Aizen’s two-faced performance during his time in the Gotei 13

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

˚₊‧꒰ა From the moment you joined the Gotei 13, you found yourself on the outskirts of every conversation involving Aizen. His reputation preceded him—calm, composed, effortlessly kind, with a voice that could soothe even the most restless souls. But something about him didn’t sit right with you. It wasn’t that he was rude or ever out of place. Quite the opposite. He was too perfect.

˚₊‧꒰ა You’d seen captains and lieutenants before. They were powerful, commanding presences, many of them hardened by battle and responsibility. Yet Aizen…smiled too easily. It wasn’t that his kindness seemed forced; it was that it never wavered. No one was that consistently unshakeable. People had cracks, moments of frustration, and lapses in their carefully crafted facades. But him? Not once. And that was enough to make you wary.

˚₊‧꒰ა He noticed you watching him. Of course he did. Aizen was a man who missed nothing. But he never confronted it directly. He didn’t need to. He was too skilled at playing the game of subtlety. Instead, he’d catch your eye in meetings, offer a faint smile when your gazes met across the training grounds, and always, always address you with a tone that felt meticulously chosen.

˚₊‧꒰ა “You seem thoughtful,” he said one day, catching you in a quiet corridor after a meeting had ended. His voice was light and conversational, but there was something about the way his gaze lingered on you that made you feel like you were being measured. “Do you often get lost in your thoughts like that?”

˚₊‧꒰ა You weren’t in the habit of being easily charmed by flowery words or gentle tones. You shrugged, not bothering to hide your suspicion. “Only when things don’t add up.”

˚₊‧꒰ა His smile never faltered, but there was a flicker of interest in his eyes. “And what, may I ask, isn’t adding up for you?”

˚₊‧꒰ა You knew better than to voice your thoughts outright. Aizen wasn’t the type of man you could accuse without solid evidence. He was too clever, too calculated. So instead, you shrugged again. “That would be telling.”

˚₊‧꒰ა It wasn’t the response he was expecting, and for a brief moment, the mask slipped. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his expression sharpening before he smoothed it over again. “Curious,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’re not like the others.”

˚₊‧꒰ა His words hung in the air, and you knew he wasn’t talking about your combat skills or your rank within the Gotei 13. He was talking about your mind. About how you weren’t so easily swayed by his charm, how you saw the cracks in his otherwise perfect veneer.

˚₊‧꒰ა After that, he started to take a subtle interest in you. Nothing overt, nothing that would raise suspicion among your peers. But you noticed the way he seemed to gravitate toward you during group discussions, how his gaze would linger on you just a fraction longer than anyone else’s.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Do you not trust me?” he asked one day, his tone light and amused as if the question were a joke. But you could see the weight behind his words. He was testing you.

˚₊‧꒰ა You didn’t smile. “I don’t distrust you. But I also don’t trust anyone blindly.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He laughed. “A wise approach. Trust, after all, is a dangerous thing to give freely.”

˚₊‧꒰ა There were moments when you could feel him trying to draw you in, to make you let your guard down. He’d offer small compliments, casual remarks about your skill or your insight. But you never gave him the reaction he was looking for.

˚₊‧꒰ა “You must think me terribly boring,” he said once, with that same faint smile. “Always so serious, always so composed.”

˚₊‧꒰ა “No,” you replied, meeting his gaze head-on. “I think you’re too composed.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He chuckled at that, but there was no humour in it. “And what would you have me do? Shout? Lose my temper? Would that make me more trustworthy in your eyes?”

˚₊‧꒰ა “It would make you more human,” you said simply.

˚₊‧꒰ა That response seemed to catch him off guard. His smile faltered for the briefest moment before he recovered. “Ah, but aren’t we all striving to rise above our baser instincts? Isn’t that what it means to be a Shinigami?”

˚₊‧꒰ა You didn’t miss the irony in his words. He spoke of control, of discipline, but there was a glint in his eyes that suggested something far more dangerous beneath the surface.

˚₊‧꒰ა Over time, your interactions became a dance of sorts. A careful balancing act where neither of you showed your full hand. He’d make a remark, and you’d deflect. He’d offer a compliment; you’d question the intent behind it. It was a game, and you both knew it.

˚₊‧꒰ა “You know,” he said one day, as the two of you stood on the balcony overlooking the Seireitei, “I admire your caution. It’s rare to find someone who doesn’t take things at face value.”

˚₊‧꒰ა “Is that so?” you replied, not bothering to hide the scepticism in your voice.

˚₊‧꒰ა He smiled again, that same enigmatic smile that never quite reached his eyes. “Indeed. It’s…refreshing.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Despite your reservations, you couldn’t deny that Aizen was fascinating. There was something undeniably enigmatic about him, something that drew people in despite themselves. But you refused to be one of those people. You refused to let yourself be lulled into a false sense of security.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Do you ever wonder why people are so quick to trust?” he asked one day, his tone almost philosophical. “Why do they cling to the idea of certainty, even when it’s an illusion?”

˚₊‧꒰ა “Because it’s easier,” you replied. “It’s easier to believe in someone than to question everything they say.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He nodded as if he’d expected that answer. “And you? You prefer the harder path?”

˚₊‧꒰ა “I prefer the truth,” you said firmly.

˚₊‧꒰ა His gaze lingered on you for a long moment, and you could see the gears turning in his mind. He was calculating, always calculating, but you never gave him the satisfaction of knowing what you were thinking.

˚₊‧꒰ა There were moments when you wondered if he found your scepticism amusing, or if it frustrated him. Perhaps it was both. After all, he was used to people falling in line, to people believing in his carefully crafted persona. But you? You saw through the cracks.

˚₊‧꒰ა “It must be exhausting,” he mused one day, “to always be so guarded.”

˚₊‧꒰ა “It must be exhausting,” you countered, “to always wear a mask.”

˚₊‧꒰ა That made him pause, and for the briefest moment, you saw something shift in his expression. But then the mask was back in place, and he offered you another one of his enigmatic smiles. “Touché.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Despite everything, you couldn’t deny that there was a strange sort of mutual respect between you. He recognised your intelligence, your unwillingness to be swayed. And you recognised the danger lurking beneath his polished exterior.

˚₊‧꒰ა In another life, you might have trusted him. You might have even admired him. But in this life, you knew better. Aizen Sousuke was a man of many layers, and you had no intention of peeling them back only to find yourself ensnared in his web.

˚₊‧꒰ა “You’ll never trust me, will you?” he asked one day, his tone almost wistful.

˚₊‧꒰ა “No,” you said without hesitation. “But I’ll respect you for what you are.”

˚₊‧꒰ა His smile that day was different. Softer, more genuine. But you knew better than to believe it was real. Because with Aizen, nothing ever was.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @stygianoir @edensrose

©satsugacafé 2025: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

[aventurineswife]

I just got an idea, the hsr men (you're choice) with a reader who is like Miyo from the Netflix anime my happy marriage

Echoes of a Heart Unseen

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Argenti x Reader, Miyo Saimori (from My Happy Marriage) based Reader, Comfort, Self-worth, Emotional healing, Tenderness, Insecurity, Gentle encouragement, Character development, Slow burn.

Warnings: Mild emotional distress (insecurity, self-doubt), Sensitive themes (self-worth, past trauma), Heavy themes of emotional growth, Gentle romantic undertones.

Aventurine leaned casually against the door frame, his eyes watching you with interest as you timidly set about preparing a meal for him. There was an elegance to your movements, even in your silence, something that drew his attention despite himself. He wasn’t used to people who lacked a strong sense of self, but there was something undeniably captivating about the quiet resilience you carried.

He had always prided himself on reading people—their fears, desires, and the lies they told themselves. Yet, with you, it was different. Your shy demeanor and hesitant actions spoke volumes of a painful past, one that had made you doubt your own worth. He couldn't quite place why, but there was something about you that awakened a strange sense of protectiveness within him.

“You know, for someone who claims to be… timid,” he remarked with a playful smirk, “you certainly know how to command attention with that cooking.”

You flinched at his words, lowering your gaze to the dish you were preparing. It was a quiet act, one that spoke of years of practice, but he could see the insecurity in your shoulders.

Aventurine took a slow step forward, his voice softening just a fraction. “I don't know what kind of cruel world you've lived in, but it’s obvious to me that you're capable of far more than you think. Don’t you realize how much of a gift it is to make something so beautiful with your own hands?”

His words were layered, calculated, but they lacked the usual mockery. For once, he wasn’t gambling with words; he was being sincere. The compliment, though simple, left you speechless, and he found himself intrigued by the way your eyes flickered with uncertainty, like a bird unsure whether to take flight.

“You don’t have to be silent all the time, you know," he added, his smile a little softer. "There’s strength in your silence, but there’s also power in your voice, should you choose to use it."

You looked up at him then, hesitation swirling in your gaze. He’d seen the way you shrank from confrontation, how you seemed to keep your distance from anyone who might get too close, but he saw something else too—something he had never let anyone see: your quiet fight.

Aventurine extended his hand, his fingers brushing against the edge of the table, almost like a dare, but one that seemed to speak more of a challenge to himself than to you. “The question is, will you be willing to take that step?”

For once, his words weren’t a game. There was no mask, no manipulation—only a gentle invitation to someone who seemed so used to being unseen, unheard, and unappreciated. You were so much more than what you allowed yourself to believe, and for the first time in his life, Aventurine was unsure whether he wanted to manipulate that or protect it.

The quiet hum of the Astral Express filled the air as Sunday stood by the window, looking out at the stars. His wings fluttered ever so slightly, an expression of inner turmoil that only he could understand. You stood beside him, a quiet presence that he had come to appreciate in the time you’d spent together.

You were not like the others; you never seemed to expect anything from him. There was a softness in your demeanor, a kind of timidity that reminded him of a part of himself he had long buried. You lacked the confidence that so many around him carried, but Sunday knew better than anyone that there was strength in the quiet ones—the ones who didn’t shout for attention but instead stayed in the background, offering support in their own way.

"You’ve been awfully quiet today," he murmured, his voice like a gentle breeze. He didn’t need to ask why; he could sense the weight you carried. It was something about the way you moved, how you kept your head low and your gaze averted.

You hesitated, your fingers nervously twisting a small piece of fabric in your hands, but Sunday didn’t push you. He waited patiently, the calmness of his presence offering a silent invitation for you to speak when you were ready.

“I—I just feel like I’m not good enough,” you confessed softly, almost too quietly for him to hear, but he caught the tremor in your voice. "I don’t know why I feel this way, but sometimes I feel like I’m just… a burden to everyone around me."

Sunday’s gaze softened, and for the briefest moment, you saw the vulnerability in his eyes. He had always been the one to hide his own pain, to bury it beneath layers of idealism and grand ideas, but in that moment, it felt as though he saw something in you that mirrored his own struggles.

“You are not a burden,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “You matter. More than you realize.”

He stepped closer, though he didn’t touch you, his presence felt like an embrace. “Sometimes, the world makes us believe that our worth is defined by what we give, by what we can do for others. But that’s not the case. You are valuable just by being you.”

You looked up at him, your gaze meeting his, and there was something in his expression—something beyond his usual composed demeanor—that spoke of his own battles with self-worth.

“You are more than enough, and no one should make you feel otherwise,” he continued, his voice a whisper now, meant only for you. “You’re not alone, not while I’m here.”

His words, so quiet yet so certain, gave you something you hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. The faintest flicker of confidence began to stir in your chest, like the first breath of wind before a storm. It was small, but it was real, and it was yours to nurture.

The world around you often felt too loud, too harsh. People rushed past without a second glance, their voices carrying burdens of words you didn’t quite understand, much less have the courage to speak. Yet, the silence around you was different when you were with him.

Argenti was a man of honor, clad in armor that shimmered with an almost ethereal light, his eyes glowing with conviction and purpose. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to him. His presence was like a steady flame in a cold room—comforting, reassuring. He was everything you weren't: strong, confident, self-assured. It made you feel small and fragile, but at the same time, he never treated you as if you were anything less than worthy.

You had been struggling lately, the scars of your past still fresh and raw. The years of emotional neglect and the unspoken words of doubt that echoed in your mind every time you looked into a mirror made it hard to believe in yourself. You were still that person who had been beaten down by life, who thought of herself as a burden to others, as nothing more than an invisible shadow.

But with Argenti, things were different.

"Are you troubled, my dear?" His voice was soft, a stark contrast to the strength in his posture. His gaze was warm, understanding, though he said little. He never pushed you to speak, never demanded more than you were willing to give. Instead, he waited, patiently, allowing you the time to gather your thoughts.

You sat on the stone bench, your hands clasped in your lap, your heart racing under the weight of his stare. "I… I just… I feel like I’m not enough. That everything I do… doesn’t matter." The words spilled from you, as if they had been trapped inside for so long that they could no longer remain hidden.

Argenti knelt in front of you, his armor making a soft clang as it settled. He reached out, his large, gloved hand gently lifting your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes shimmered with a tenderness you had never expected to see in someone like him.

"You are enough," he said, his voice firm, unwavering. "You are a work of beauty, not because of how others see you, but because of the heart within you." His thumb brushed over your cheek, the touch so soft it almost seemed unreal. "You may not believe it now, but there is strength in your quiet, in your gentleness, in your ability to care even when others have hurt you."

You felt the knot in your throat tighten, the tears threatening to spill. You didn't deserve his kindness, yet here it was, like a blanket wrapping around you, soothing the very parts of you that had been broken.

"Your past does not define you, nor does the way others treated you. What matters is the path you choose now." Argenti’s words were like a balm, healing wounds you had long forgotten you carried. "You have the power to become the person you want to be. And I will walk beside you, guiding you, protecting you, if you will let me."

His words felt like a promise—a promise that he would never leave you, never abandon you like so many had before. There was something in the way he looked at you, something that told you he saw you for who you truly were, not for the brokenness you thought you held.

"I… I want to believe that," you whispered, the uncertainty still lingering in your voice. "But I'm so afraid of being wrong."

"You are not alone," Argenti said, his voice a low, soothing hum. "We are all afraid. But it is in overcoming that fear that we find our true strength."

With those words, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. You weren’t perfect, and you never would be. But in Argenti’s presence, you could begin to accept that you didn’t need to be. All that mattered was the journey ahead.

[jeonstellate]

my future in your eyes

mingyu still holds onto you, even after all this time.

๑彡 kim mingyu x gender neutral!reader

๑彡 divorced!au/ex-husband!au, post-break up!au, exes-to-lovers!au — fluff

๑彡 paragraph format — 1.1K words

masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

๑彡 title is taken from zack tabudlo’s as you are.

๑彡 if anyone's interested, here's a link to a prequel of sorts: forever by my side :]

Kim Mingyu is a man of confidence.

Not that he uses his confidence to swindle strangers, as the dictionary suggests the title means. Rather, he exudes confidence — regardless of what he does.

There is always an air confidence around him. He can be in clothes that don’t fit the event’s theme and he’ll still seem perfectly dressed. He can be barely conversant in another language and he’ll still sound like he knows what he’s saying. He can just be standing there, doing nothing, and he’ll still appear like he’s doing something right.

Some people mistake his confidence for arrogance. Most find it admirable. But, in truth, Mingyu hardly cares.

Especially if his so-called confidence vanishes whenever you are in the vicinity and within his line of sight. Just like now.

He sees you in a table with Seokmin. Your back is towards him but he recognizes you, anyway. Despite the distance, he has no problem witnessing how animatedly you talk with your common friend.

It’s almost like he is back in college: you and Seokmin in one row, him and Minghao a few rows back. He can almost hear Minghao state matter-of-factly, "You’re staring," like he often does back then.

Really, all that’s different is Minghao’s currently preoccupied being the groom to comment on his staring. (There are definitely more things that are different now, but he doesn’t want to even begin thinking about them.)

Seokmin catches his stare. Not soon after, specifically before Mingyu can even look away, he sees him leave the table. Seokmin throws him a familiar meaningful look before disappearing into the dance floor.

Truth be told, Mingyu’s confidence comes naturally. It isn’t something that he purposely channels. It’s just always there . . . unless you are involved. Then, suddenly, he has to painstakingly gather the confidence to be near you.

"Is this seat taken?" He tries his hardest to mask his awestruck look with one of kind politeness as he waits your response.

He almost forgot how to breathe when your eyes lock into his. "You may sit if you wish," you offer him a small, polite smile. "I don’t think he’ll be back anytime soon."

"Thanks." He effortlessly returns your gesture before situating himself on the chair your common friend abandoned. "How are you enjoying the party?"

"Really well, actually. I didn’t expect to recognize a lot of people from college." Your eyes don’t leave his as you answer. He tries not to stare back too intently, to look within your eyes to see something . . . anything. "And you?"

Mingyu waits for a beat, gathering enough confidence to say what he wants to. "Better now that you’re here." With me.

He lets out a barely audible embarrassed laugh. He has half a mind to take it back, but quickly changes his mind when he sees you biting your lower lip — an obvious attempt to stop yourself from laughing.

A ghost of a smile plays on his lips. There’s pride in knowing he’s still able to make you laugh, despite it being your first meeting in literal years.

You look down in a presumable attempt to calm yourself down. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you, though, as he refuses to lose you from his sight. As such, he immediately notices the sudden shift in your expression.

"You’re still wearing it." Mingyu follows your line of sight — and ends up looking at the source of your comment. His hand on the table, specifically the band of gold adorning his ring finger. "Our ring."

Our wedding ring.

You and Mingyu married soon after graduating from college. It had been a blissful marriage, one that filled a home with nothing but love and support.

Your divorce was on the basis of irreconcilable differences. It was a mutual decision, for the interest of your career paths diverging too far. There was never a bad blood.

"Ye— yeah." Mingyu stutters involuntarily. He clears his throat before continuing, "It’s a great conversational piece."

Although the divorce has been finalized years ago, Mingyu still plays the faithful and loving husband role in front of strangers. He uses the ring on his finger to his advantage: may that be to wordlessly signal that he’s already taken or to gain the favor of a potential sponsor.

Likewise, even if he knows the ring might be a disadvantage, he refuses to take it off — nor to purposely hide it from sight. The same way he never tells a stranger that he is no longer tied to someone else.

"Does it work?" You ask in wonder.

"We are conversing now, aren’t we?"

You chuckle, "Touché."

Mingyu wants to tell you that he hasn’t taken the ring off since you slipped it on his finger during your wedding. Not even after your divorce has been finalized all those years ago.

He wants to tell you his ring finger is thinner near his palm because of his adamant refusal to take his wedding ring off once in a while. Not willing to separate from the only physical reminder of your marriage, not even for a second.

He wants to tell you the ring is more than a conversational piece. He wants to tell you it’s his lifeline, something he can’t bear to lose. But he doesn’t.

Instead, Mingyu uses all the confidence he has gathered to ask you a simple question. "Dance with me?"

He offers you the hand adorned by his wedding ring. He tries not to show the uncertainty he feels by masking it behind a smile.

He almost lets out a relieved sigh when you place your hand on top of his. But he stops breathing momentarily when he catches sight of the sole jewelry adorning your hand.

"You’re still wearing it," Mingyu echoes your comment breathlessly. "Our ring."

He snaps his eyes back to your face, just in time to witness your smile widen. "Yeah," you say. "It’s a great talisman to ward off potential suitors."

He leads you to the dance floor, silently marveling at how your hand still fits perfectly with his. "Does it work?"

"It’s very effective," you assure him. "Although I don’t think it works well against ex-husbands."

Another slow song starts playing right when you reach the dance floor. You and Mingyu unconsciously claim your respective hand placements during your first dance — and for any waltz you danced after.

Then, suddenly, it’s like you traveled back in time.

Mingyu pulls you closer, a ghost of a smirk is at the edge of his lips. "I think it works well attracting ex-husbands."

[stayinlimbo]

We Become We

pairing: husband!lee minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to lovers, marriage of convenience, fluff, poor attempts at me trying to be funny, mc's gender is not specified word count: 1.02k note:  i am not dead yay. i tried my best since i haven't had time to write for almost a month so please take this as a peace offering ♡

Marriage. It’s an interesting concept, isn’t it? 

You’ve always thought so, at least. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc. 

Yours happens to be a man named Lee Minho. The same man you’ve been friends with for as long as you can remember. The same man who asked you to marry him for a reason you didn’t get to learn until he was already down on one knee. 

(“I’m sorry, you want me to WHAT?” “Marry me. Please, I need health insurance.”

“Okay, yes, sure, whatever; now please get off the floor. People are staring.”)

Lee Minho, who, after dragging you to the courthouse and legally becoming your husband, finally elaborated on how his job would pay him more and cover both of your health insurances if he was married. So really, in his words, he was “doing you a huge favor” by marrying you. 

And, in all honesty, he really was. No, you didn’t have a ring to show off your new husband’s weird skill at finding loopholes in company policy, and you’re like thirty-five percent sure the two of you are committing some kind of marriage fraud, but does it really matter when you can finally start using the hot water in your dingy apartment without worrying if you’ll have enough money to fund your crippling caffeine addiction? The government will have to drag you kicking and screaming before you resort back to mankind’s cruelest form of torture: cold showers. 

Not to mention that marriage didn’t even change your relationship with Minho. And why would it? You’re still you, and he’s still him. He gets on your nerves just the same, maybe even a little bit more after he decided to frame your marriage certificate in his living room and send a photo to all your mutual friends. You’ll never forgive Minho for laughing at your helplessly panicked state when the group chat wouldn’t stop exploding with messages and incessant calls. 

You’re still his best friend that resides in his apartment four out of seven days of the week while he inhabits yours for the other three. Maybe that’s why, two weeks after your “wedding,” when it was time to renew your lease, Minho suggested with a simple shrug of his shoulders that you move in with him since “you’re here all the time anyway.” 

You’ve really got to learn how to say no to him because now you wake up next to your best friend/roommate/husband in his one bedroom, one bathroom apartment at the crack of dawn with a light pressure on your chest and fur in your face when his cats decide you need to wake up right now to feed them. 

Not to say you don’t like the new arrangement! No, that would be the furthest from the truth. 

Sure, you didn’t appreciate your skin care routine being interrupted by the unexpectedly high-pitched scream Minho let out when he saw you in a face mask for the first time, and what kind of person still has their phone’s brightness turned up all the way before bed? But who else would willingly tolerate your deliriousness before your morning coffee or indulge in your pleas to cook your favorite food three days in a row? 

Living with Minho has only made the purely platonic feelings you harbor for him grow stronger.

That’s what the fluttering in your chest means every time you see him, right? The reason for the smile that grows on your face when you hear the distinct jingling of keys at the front door?

Yeah, that must be why heat spread across your cheeks when he handed you his phone to text one of his friends back, because since when did the heart emoji make an appearance next to your pinned contact name?

You just care about each other, that’s all. It’s normal to want to make sure he arrived at work safely and ask how his day is going during your lunch breaks. It’s normal to start receiving back hugs before bed—a comforting weight as Minho’s chin rests on your shoulder while you apply the rest of the products to your face. 

It’s natural to have doubts about the nature of your relationship during an evening walk, acutely aware of his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you silently study his features illuminated by the soft glow of the scattered streetlights. What if he meets someone else and falls in love with them and wants a divorce and– oh. 

Has he always looked at you like that? With his gaze softening as it locks with yours? With the corners of lips lifting into the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen? With all the stars shining above you finding a second home in his eyes? A look so loving that it takes your breath away and you can’t tell if you’re about to laugh or cry in relief. 

And when you return home to get ready for bed, the familiar feeling of hands wrapping around your waist and a careful pressure resting by the crook of your neck quells the remnants of your worries.

It’s you and Minho. Minho and you, just as it always has been. Just as it’s always meant to be.

The distance between your bodies on the bed becomes nonexistent when you curl yourself into his side, laying your head on his shoulder and intertwining your legs with his as he immediately, unhesitantly, adjusts his arm, his fingertips finding purchase on exposed skin and roaming across the span of your back. A kiss to the top of your head is the last thing you feel before the gentle lull of breathing and the rise and fall of his chest begin to soothe you to sleep. 

…

Ah, marriage—what an interesting concept. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc. 

You love your husband, and you’re beginning to think he loves you too. 

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn

[justasecretflower]

Shark bait men as boyfriends 🦈🤍

Part one / part two

A/N- I feel like nobody will know shark bait on here but I really wanted to post anyway..

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊ ₊˚ ‿︵

Rhin

- oh he’s sweet.

- super kind and caring, he’s very domestic. He likes to be soft with you, he likes you wearing his clothes (canon), he likes you being all sweet with him, even if it’s cheesy.

- he gets jealous even if he doesn’t seem like he’s the type to. Which usually ends up with him leaving scattered love bites in a fit of rage then getting embarrassed about it and telling you to cover them.

- he’s super smart. Loves to give you tons of fun facts.

- sometimes wants to just live a normal life with you, away from war with the orcas, away from the kingdom, just to be free of stress with a ring on your finger, a cute house with a nice garden and all of the alone time in the world.

- he’s a nice in between of GW and Lee. He’s sweet like Lee, but a bit tough like GW, but not too tough where he’s a total overly confident, tough boy-douche most of the time.

- btw he’s total dad material..just throwing that out.

GW

- he acts like he doesn’t enjoy your physical affection (he’s LYING!!!)

- his face is fully flush while he’s calling it ‘stupid’ as well!

- he secretly enjoys alll the affection you give him

- now, as for him, his love language is probably acts of service.

- he fights over you, shows you he loves you by being productive and helping with stuff you could’ve easily done and saying “human, I can just do it better.”

- everyone can see he’s soft with you, even if he denies it.

- its like the ‘bad boy with a soft spot’ trope.

- late at night you two cuddle, he’s very cold, but he has a firm grip on you, so it’s futile to try and get away from him.

- he doesn’t leave ‘love bites’ he leaves full on nasty bite marks. All purple or red with the outline of his sharp teeth,

- he protects u no matter what.

Tiggy

- oh no.

- rip you

- he’s gonna have you in bed all day.

- this man is freaky deaky…

- but, he’s also best friend material.

- he’s your best friend and boyfriend.

- super funny, will definitely be the type to have you wheezing at 3am and trying to be quiet so the others don’t hear the bursts of chaotic laughter,

- gives you some of his bracelets! So you can match!

- on the contrary to GW, he loves physical affection and showing it off, will be on your lap, you on his lap, borderline making out with you in front of the others, slaps on the butt accompanied by a snicker and a small “sorry..”

- quality time is his love language! He just adores hanging out with you. Face masks and a movie or running around the palace annoying people he just likes being near you.

- you guys share clothes. He takes your oversized hoodies, you take his. It’s mutual.

- he nuzzles you a ton.

- like, cuteness aggression.

- overall, good boyfriend, can’t keep his hands to himself though..

Lee

- I don’t really like Lee, personally.

- he’s too forgiving. He forgave and defended the doctor that tied mc up and forced them to drink that the potion of lust…

- that’s just me..anyway to the headcanons now.

- he’s wholesome, picnic dates and putting flowers in each others hair, dancing in his room and making little forts.

- anytime anywhere he’ll sneak a little kiss, if it’s in public, albeit a little flushed but he’ll still sneak a small kiss on the cheek or finger tip.

- he’s really interested in games of all types, and learning. So he likes learning about random facts with you, and playing new games he got or made up.

- super energetic, he’s like a ball of energy that transfers over to you.

- he gets flustered easily.

- he hates fighting. Even if you were like “the sky is pink” and he’ll be like “yeah!”

- ‘me and my girl don’t argue she tells me to shut up and I do.’

Akhelios

- he’s very confident.

- he expects you to praise him 24/7. Ah yes mortal, more praise, more affection.

- in turn he will shower you with jewels, clothes, rooms in the castle.

- he never quite loved someone like you, be patient.

- yes, he does have kids and such. But he’s never actually cared for someone that wasn’t him. It’s a foreign feeling

- he loves you oh so much though

- he just has a weird way of showing it.

- he likes cuddles. He’ll cuddle you in front of whoever.

Stryker

- he’s extremely misunderstood.

- he misses his late wife more than anything. So when you come around looking like her he’s tripping.

- he’ll start out gently trying to push you to be like them. Her pjs, what instrument she played, her favourite foods.

- you naturally pulled away, and he feels this.

- he has a lot of self-reevaluating to do, and learns that he needs to love you for you, not for the soul of his late wife.

- he learns about you, what you like to do, what you like to eat, what you find interesting.

- it’s refreshing.

- falling in love again after losing his wife is scary. But nonetheless he spoils you. He gifts you insane gifts, he gives you massages, kisses, praise.

- he just might be the best boyfriend / husband on this list ngl.

- I know many people don’t really like Stryker because of him seeing mc for his late wife but give him a break..it’s a lot to process and he was sick in love.

- now, he’s fully in love with you, who you are.

- it’s sweet:(.

Tags

[tealvenetianmask]

Why Stolas's Story Is a Neurodivergent Story

And what that means for what's ahead.

Like a lot of fans, I see Stolas as autistic. This isn't a diagnosis post. But yes, something something special interests, dinosaur arms, persistent difficulty fitting in with his own social class, anxiety about social situations, frequent difficulty reading people and/or noticing others' emotions (especially when caught up in his own thoughts), masking, etc. etc. etc.

I want to talk about how Stolas's character arc tells a really well written (and potentially very uplifting) story about what it's like to be neurodivergent.

So what would be in my ideal neurodivergent story? Well I'd rather stay away from true utopia and have it reflect what it feels like to be neurodivergent in society today. So the character would struggle, not because their traits are bad, but because society isn't built for them. As the story progresses, the character might find happiness in unexpected ways and begin to look beyond society's rigid expectations for what a "good life" looks like. And then, hopefully, after some twists and turns, this character reaches a kind of self-acceptance where they are more themselves than ever, proud of who they are, and maybe even able to help change their society for the better.

Stolas's character arc IS this story.

Act 1: It's hard trying to fit into a neurotypical world.

Stolas is taught to mask his true emotions and follow strict social expectations as a child. He isn't living in just ANY neurotypical culture. The Goetia are old and set in their ways, and have rigid expectations for what one does and does not do. He's playing the social game on "hard mode" from the beginning.

I think one thing that helps make Stolas high masking is the way in which his special interests are socially acceptable within his social sphere. Stars and plants? Books? Well he's a nerd, and no one wants to be his friend, but of course a guy with his particular destiny-assigned-in-childhood would like things like that.

Stolas develops a few different types of masks. One is the "I'm fine" mask where he pretends not to be emotionally affected by what's going on around him.

The other is this sort of "powerful" mask. A character who is in control of everything and plays into his society's ideas of how a Goetia should interact with the rest of the world. It usually means acting demeaning toward Blitz in order to preserve the facade of what a powerful prince of Hell is supposed to be. And he's conscious of putting on an act when he uses it.

But anyway, the masks cover up a person who is deeply unhappy in his prescribed role and doing his best to act correctly for others . . . his father's expectations and then his daughter's wellbeing, instead of for himself. I like that HB has him STILL not fit in among the Goetia despite his best efforts. It's an experience that a lot of neurodivergent people know too well.

By the way, I LOVE how Mastermind brings us Stolas doing something truly subversive with this "powerful" mask, playing into his society's expectations in order to, in a small way, undermine their power. BUT that's me getting ahead of myself.

Act 2: The neurodivergent character learns that there are other ways to be.

I think that Stolas has been dipping his talons into this part of his story for two seasons now but has been hesitant to envision himself as anything but a prince of hell. We're going to see him fully engulfed in working through these questions in Season 3 because of his banishment.

Blitz is of course the major catalyst for Stolas questioning his commitment to conformity and acting outright rebellious at times.

I think it's neat that Blitz is so clearly neurodivergent himself. We tend to find each other . . . if you're reading this and are neurodivergent, take a look at your closest friends. And these two share a kind of chemistry and appreciation for one another that most of Hell seems not to see in them.

BUT until he's banished, Stolas doesn't really reach for a situation where he doesn't need to act out his prescribed role. Even when he pursues a relationship with Blitz in earnest, he does so with the expectation that he'll somehow balance this relationship with satisfying the expectations of his upper-class peers.

Act 3: Radical Self-Acceptance?? Hopefully!

Now we can only speculate.

I think that despite realizing that he wants something else, Stolas still fundamentally believes that something is wrong with him. He doesn't understand yet that his enthusiasm for his interests and his emotiveness, for instance, are part of what makes him wonderful. He doesn't see yet that being different might even help him change a society that is deeply flawed.

I can't wait to see Stolas truly have fun in Imp City, and do things there that he's truly proud of.

Whatever happens with his literal powers, he might figure out that he's most powerful when he doesn't act like a "powerful prince" but instead acts like himself and proudly questions his society.

And there's a lot of "The Circus" in this post because @akirathedramaqueen and I had a major brainstorm while we were rewatching that episode. More new ideas about old material to come soon hopefully!

This post is a follow-up on this literal fever ramble from yesterday about Blitz as a neurodivergent character. And yes, I think neurodivergent stories map onto queer stories quite nicely.

[charliedawn]

Sorry if this sounds odd but what if the nurse was secretly a succubus? I’m so fascinated by them i find them so cool <3

(Warning: 18 + stuff.)

Michael Myers:

Michael would remain utterly stoic, his mask hiding any potential reaction. Your seductive tricks would likely bounce off his cold, emotionless demeanor. If you tried to drain his energy, you’d find his near-supernatural willpower a tough barrier to crack. Michael might just tilt his head curiously before silently walking away—or turning violent if he felt threatened.

But, he wouldn’t let you starve.

He would wordlessly drag a victim to you, drop the victim at your feet, and walk away without any further interaction. Whether you appreciate his effort or not wouldn’t matter to him—he’s done his part.

And if he decided to feed you personally ? He wouldn’t care about the implications or emotions behind the act—if feeding you would solve a problem or make you leave him alone, he’d do it without hesitation. No romance, no words, just cold practicality. Once it was over, he’d leave without a second glance, but if you tried to drain too much energy, you’d find his supernatural endurance nearly impossible to break. *wink wink* 😉

Jason Voorhees:

Jason might be confused or wary of you. He would not really be happy with your seductive nature because it would likely remind him of the promiscuous teens he associates with his trauma. If you got too close or seemed threatening, Jason would either hide if he likes you or strike without hesitation.

Jason, fueled by his moral code however, might feed you people he deems immoral—campers, partiers, or anyone disrespecting Camp Crystal Lake. He’d silently lead you to a group of potential victims, then let you do the work.

Jason would be hesitant and confused to be feeding you himself if he decided that was the only solution. He’s deeply traumatized and has a complicated relationship with intimacy, but his protective instincts might compel him to help if he thought you were genuinely starving. Once he agreed, he’d be gentle and cautious, but don’t expect much passion—Jason sees feeding you as an act of mercy, not desire. If you pushed him too far emotionally, he might retreat, unsure of how to handle it.

Jason *whimpering while doing it because he thinks it’s wrong and he will go to hell for that.*

Pennywise:

Asexual King. Pennywise wouldn’t be interested in you as a succubus and you wouldn’t be interested in him because as a succubus you know when some people have absolutely no sexual drive—from which you feed. He would be interested in the others’ reaction to you though. He would however provide you with victims to keep you alive. He would even watch to see how you do it for his own morbid curiosity.

Penny:

Penny’s reaction would depend on his hunger level. Initially, he might find it amusing, perhaps even try to charm you back in his awkward, giggly way. But if he felt you posed any threat, his jovial demeanor would shift to cold menace, and he’d remind you that he’s no easy prey.

He’d likely however stumble upon a victim while giggling and casually offer them up to you. Because you know…supernatural freaks gotta stick together.

But as he doesn’t have actual human emotions or a normal constitution—he wouldn’t be able to feed you.

Freddy Krueger:

(Not Freddy gif. But that would 100% be his reaction.)

Freddy *running with his arms wide open while being held back by every single other slasher in the group* : "BABY CAKES ! LEMME AT THEM ! COME TO PAPA !"

Yeah…Freddy would be excited and lose his pants the moment he sees you. Freddy would literally jump at the opportunity, treating it as a twisted game. He���d taunt and flirt relentlessly, teasing you about how you’re "lucky" to get a piece of him. Freddy would revel in the idea of giving you what you need, not out of kindness but because it feeds his ego. However, if you tried to dominate or outsmart him, he’d quickly turn the tables, reminding you he’s a predator too.

Freddy would enjoy the idea of feeding you, especially if it involved mutual torment of a victim. He’d probably bring you someone he’s already torturing in the dream world and take sick pleasure in watching you work. Freddy might even joke about “sharing a meal” and try to make it a fun, sadistic bonding moment.

Bo:

Bo would likely be cocky, assuming he could handle your charms and would even try to one-up your seductive energy. He’d flirt shamelessly, but the moment he realises your intentions, his temper would flare. Bo doesn’t like being manipulated, and he’d turn violent to show you that you picked the wrong man to mess with.

"Yeah ? Ya want me ? Get on yer knees, bitch. I ain’t givin’ ya shit until you are fuckin’ cryin’ and beggin’. Now be a good slut and lemme see if ya really are as good as ya look."

He’d likely tease you at first, leaning against a counter or chair with that devilish grin, his Southern drawl dripping with mockery.

"So, darlin’, you’re tellin’ me you need me to survive? Ain’t that a hell of a thing."

He’d act like it was your lucky day, smirking as he sauntered closer, but the gleam in his eye would betray a deeper curiosity. Bo would see this as a game—a way to show off, to make sure you knew he was the best you’d ever get. When the time came, he’d take control, slow and deliberate, making sure you understood exactly who was in charge.

However, there’d be an underlying caution. Bo doesn’t trust easily, and he’d be watching your every move, ensuring you didn’t drain too much or try to manipulate him. If you dared tease him or get cheeky, he’d respond in kind, leaning in close with a grin that promised both danger and excitement.

"Careful now, sugar. You bite off more than you can chew, and I might just have to remind you who’s really feedin’ who."

Norman Bates:

Norman would be both captivated and horrified. His mother’s voice in his head would scream warnings about the succubus’s sinful nature, filling him with guilt for feeling tempted. Depending on your approach, Norman might either fall under your spell or snap and turn violent in a fit of moral outrage. He would feel incredibly awkward about the whole situation. If he decided to feed you, it would likely be after some intense internal conflict and a lot of "Mother" yelling at him in his head. He’d probably offer someone he viewed as sinful, but afterward, he’d feel guilty and regretful.

The poor man would be terrified at the idea of feeding you himself however, torn between temptation and guilt. His mother’s voice would berate him for even considering it, but he’d be unable to resist if you pushed hard enough. The experience would leave him shaken, filled with shame and confusion. He might avoid you afterward or lash out, blaming you for his conflicted feelings.

Brahms Heelshire:

Brahms would be flattered and excited at the idea of feeding you himself, though he’d try to mask his enthusiasm with feigned reluctance. He’d see it as a way to bond with you and make you dependent on him. However, his possessive streak would flare if he suspected you of feeding on anyone else. "You don’t need anyone else—you have me ! NOW COME HERE !"

No hesitation. He WANTS to feed you.

Arthur Fleck:

Arthur Fleck would approach the situation with hesitance, torn between his insecurities and his desperate need to help. His voice would crack, sounding both apologetic and uncertain, as though he was unsure if he even deserved to be in this position.

"Alright...Let’s see here. I apologise…if I do not fulfill your expectations," he’d murmur, offering a half-hearted, nervous smile, trying to disguise how vulnerable he felt in this moment. "It has been a long time…and if I am doing this, it is only to keep you alive."

Arthur’s usual self-doubt would cloud his actions, unsure of whether he could actually satisfy whatever need you have. His movements would be awkward, as though he was out of his element, clumsy but trying so desperately to ensure he didn’t disappoint.

While he might act like he’s doing it only out of necessity, deep down, there would be a part of him that wants to be needed, to feel important in someone else’s eyes. As he goes through with it, his brow would furrow slightly, unsure if he was doing it right, and there would be a vulnerable, almost childlike quality to the way he’d handle it, like he’s still learning how to interact with others in an intimate way.

He might look at you occasionally, searching your face for any sign of approval, though his gaze would quickly shift away if he felt self-conscious. His voice would falter again, though softer now, almost like a whisper.

"…Did I do okay ? Are you satisfied ?"

The Joker:

Once Arthur Fleck becomes the Joker, those same words would take on a darker, more twisted edge. His previous nervousness would be replaced by a chilling calmness, his newfound confidence creeping into his tone. The weight of his transformation would be obvious—his smile now sinister, his eyes sharp with a dangerous gleam. His voice would still carry a semblance of the original words, but it would be dripping with sarcasm and an unsettling amusement, as though he were playing with you, testing your reactions.

"Alright…Let’s see here," he would say, his lips curling into that iconic grin, the words laced with mockery. His eyes would flash with a manic glint as he observed you, amused by the situation. "I apologise…if I do not fulfill your expectations. It has been a long time and if I’m doing this, it’s only to keep you alive."

There’s a subtle but dangerous twist now to his voice—a sense of authority and power, the hesitation gone. Instead of the unsure, almost apologetic Arthur, Joker is brimming with cruel confidence, enjoying the twisted nature of what’s happening. He would say it as though he was doing you a favor, but at the same time, there’s an undercurrent of amusement at how much control he has over the situation. He might even chuckle softly under his breath, finding the absurdity of it all hilarious.

His smile would stretch wider as he leans in closer, eyes never leaving yours, as if daring you to protest or make a move. He might even take some sick pleasure in the tension of the moment, letting the silence drag on before he finally breaks it with another twisted laugh.

With Joker, the need to "keep you alive" isn't a selfless act; it’s a calculated move, part of his chaotic world view. He doesn't do things because they’re necessary—he does them because it amuses him, because he can. He sees this as another game, another way to mess with you and watch the consequences unfold.

"You should thank me," he’d add, voice laced with mock sweetness, his grin widening even further. "But then again, you’re probably not the type to appreciate a true gift, are you ?"

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

Do you know who my daddy is?

Captain price x Fem reader (single mom)

You brought your kid to the base, she has an important homework, talk about what mom/dad does at work. The little kid is in trouble and the best she can do to get out of the problem is lie about who her daddy is.

Warning: it's not very interesting but I had a lot of fun writing it. I like to think about Price having a daughter. Anyway, as usual, grammatical and spelling errors. Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

- hey my little sunshine! how was your day?

- it was fine, I have homework though.

- oh, what is it?

- I have to talk about your work, what you do and things like that.

- Oh well, I have to talk with my superior and let him know that you will go with me for a few hours just to see what we do, ok?

- Okay

That was the small conversation with your kid, she was very excited to go with you, you talked her a little bit about your comrades and your very handsome captain, she made fun of you for the way you talked about Price and sang «Mommy and the captain, sitting on a tree giving little kisses and falling in love...», of course you warned her to not say that at the base, as every kid, she thinks your job is full of action and adrenaline, because that's what she watches on tv, she certainly wasn't expecting to see you writing reports and reading files, attending some calls, just like you're doing right now.

Price was very kind to let you bring her today, he also told you to give her a small tour around the place to make it more exciting, your poor girl is dying of boredom sitting in the chair of your office, observing the ceiling and the light over your heads.

- I'm sorry darling, we will give the tour as soon as I finish this report, okay?

- I thought we would fight against bad people or that you would show me guns, this is so boring!!!!!

- Honey, making all this paperwork is also a way to fight against bad people, also very important.

- B-O-R-I-N-G...

You sighed, certainly it's not the funniest activity but you needed to finish it as soon as possible, a knocking on your door was perfect to interrupt your girl's complaints, Gaz appeared with a small bag of candies.

- I heard you brought a mini you today, I wanted to say hi.

- Oh Kyle, thanks, come in, this is my daughter (____). Honey this is my friend Kyle, be nice and say hi.

Your girl smiled at Gaz and took the small bag, she started to eat some jelly beans and talked for a few minutes with Kyle.

- (...) And now I'm here! Bored!

- I already say Sorry like a thousand times baby!!!

- I can take her to give a walk while you finish... just if you want (y/n)

- that would be great, I will finish soon I promise!

- YEAH! LET'S GO KYLE!!!

Your daughter took Kyle's hand and left the office, you laughed and continued your work.

Gaz went to the common room so your daughter could say hi to Soap, Ghost and other soldiers. needless to say that your girl was enchanted to meet Soap who played with her and gave her a small gel blaster, both made a mess with those gel bubbles, Gaz and Soap were cleaning up while Ghost and your daughter were painting one of Ghost's skull old masks, but your daughter was impatient to be with you and see the rest of the place as you promised her, she took her opportunity to escape from the three men when Soap attacked Ghost with some of the gel bubbles that were still on his blaster, Gaz was recording so, none of them noticed when your daughter left the room.

«Ah, Guys... Where's (_____)?» «Shit» «Was Johnny's fault»

They started to look for her, while your daughter was walking unsure of where she was going, she brought the blaster that Soap gave to her and started to shoot and play, her fun ended when she accidentally shot a soldier in his eye. The guy saw her alone and started to try to scare her.

- Hey kid, Did you forget the way to the daycare? who gave you that toy? This is not a place for babies.

- I'm 6, I'm not a baby!

- Aren't you? Then, maybe I have to tell you that you can go to prison for what you did?

Your daughter really believed that, she started to feel nervous, she was in serious trouble, what would she do now?. This guy kneeled down in front of your daughter and smirked.

- What will you do now? Cry with your parents?

An idea popped up quickly to her mind.

- I won't get in trouble, Do you have a clue of who my daddy is?

- Do you know who my daddy is?, oh please tell me who's your father, dwarf, I will tell him you're being a troublemaker!

He imitated your daughter's voice.

- The Captain Price is my daddy! He will beat your ass if you don't let me go!

This soldier was ready to say something until someone appeared behind you, he stood up quickly and paled, the little girl thought it was Gaz or Soap who found her and arrived just in time to save her, until she heard the soldier said «Captain!», she paled too and looked behind her, a tall man was observing the soldier with a cold look.

- Is this young man bothering you, my dear?

- He says I will go to prison just because I was playing a little and I hit him by accident.

- I'm sorry Sir, I didn't know she was your daughter...

Price didn't act surprised by the soldier's comment, he continued looking at him and put a hand on your daughter's shoulder.

- Next time I see you bothering my daughter or anyone else, you will be In serious trouble. Do you understand?

- Yes Sir.

- Fine, now leave. Let's go my little princess.

Price kneeled down a little and carried your girl over his shoulders, he talked with her about your work and maybe, your girl talked about how you feel about him, on their way they found Ghost, Soap and Gaz running through the entire base looking for her.

Finally you finished your work and went to the common area to see if your daughter was there, on the way you noticed some soldiers were whispering and talking secretly while you were passing by but you tried to not pay much attention, you arrived to the common area and indeed there she was, she fell asleep on Soap's lap, who was sitting on a sofa.

- Hey y/n you found us!

- Sorry guys I had a lot of things to do, thank you to everyone for taking care of her.

«No problem» «Soap is always here to help» «it was your fault that we lost her!»

- You what??

- Don't worry, nothing happened to her, the Captain found her!

Before you could say something, Price caught your attention and asked you to go out with him to have a small conversation. You felt a lump in your throat and stomach, you felt you were in problems, as soon as you and Price were alone you started to apologize.

- I'm so sorry John, I mean, Captain, it won't happen again I can assure you that...

- Y/n, you're not in trouble.

- wha..?

- I was going to say, you have a sweet and smart daughter and... Very... chatterbox...

- Chatterbox?

- Yes, she said she was my daughter, and then she told me about... Some feelings you have.

- Oh...

- Oh...

You instantly started to try to fix and look for excuses.

- Sir, I'm... She's just a kid, she fantasizes a lot about her father and... Also she understood all I said in a different way, I'm really sorry Captain...

- I see, well y/n, you don't need to apologize, I understand she's just a kid, and as she's just a kid, tell me, who are we to ruin her fantasies about have a father?

He smiled mischievously at you, you were speechless, what the hell was happening?.

- Ah... Excuse me, what?

-Well, she's a brilliant girl and I always wanted to have a daughter and a very attractive wife. There are a lot of reasons to make this come true.

You're still processing all that is happening right now.

- Really?

Price took your hand and squeezed it softly, without losing eye contact with you.

- For sure, by example, everybody around the base is already talking about us and our little daughter and the other reason is that those feelings your daughter talked about, are mutual.

You couldn't say anything, you were lost in thoughts, but your silly smile was enough for Price to go a little bit further.

- So, if you allow me, I would like to take you to dinner tomorrow night. What do you think?

- I would like that, but who will take care of (____)?

He laughed a little and then simply said.

- I think Soap said he's always ready to help, no? And if you don't think he will be a good babysitter... well, I think your daughter has another two uncles that can help.

That definitely made you laugh loudly, Price looked at you with tenderness still waiting for an answer, then, after a few minutes of silence you nodded, that was the story of how you and your daughter won the Captain's heart and three new uncles for your little girl, it would be the story that your daughter would talk about in every opportunity she had.

[etheries1015]

Wishing you a happy birthday!

Featuring: General Lilia

General warnings: Gender Neutral reader

TW: None!

Being an orphan and of an unknown background, Lilia never really cared to know the true date of his birth. He didn't care to celebrate birthdays, simply for the fact that it becomes mundane and repetitive once you've lived long enough. He had a brief understanding that humans worked in an entirely different mindset, they treasured their short lives and often held grand celebrations to signify one year closer to their inevitable demise.

So the moment you had brought up the fact your birthday was that day, and you hadn't told him sooner, he seemingly brushed it off as if he hadn't cared for the notion. Little did you know, he was at an internal war with the values he thought he once had.

"I see." Lilia responded seemingly coldly, "And what age does that make you now?"

"(age)," You responded with a slight smile at his interest and widened eyes, "I know, compared to you i'm a baby, huh? I could be in my eighties and you'd still laugh at my 'lack of life experience.'" The general bit down his bottom lip and nodded, holding back commentary by grabbing his mask and heading towards the door of the cottage that you resided in. You noticed this uncomfortable shift in his demeanor, sighing slightly and retreating your playful banter.

"Off so soon..?" You asked with sadness in your voice, "I was hoping-"

"Don't," Lilia cut you off, "You are lucky I'm allowing you to stay here at all, human. Stay hidden, and remember that I..." He paused, seeing the sadness twinkle in your eyes tugged at his heart in ways he never thought he would feel. He hated the way you did that to him, he hated the feeling of butterflies with sharp wings fluttering in his stomach at those eyes, he hated the deep imbedded foreboding of betrayal for his people simply by sheltering you under his care.

Yet he also couldn't help but continue to test the waters and had found himself rather attached the past few months you resided with him.

"...I will return later," Lilia briskly murmured before closing the door, leaving you sighing helplessly at the kitchen table. It wasn't infrequent for the fae to act like this, you understood he had a major conflict of interest, and you couldn't blame his brash attitude. Yet there were days in which you wondered to yourself, when would he finally break out of that cold façade he placed?

The day quickly turned into night as you spent your day inside tending to your normal everyday hobbies. The clock ticked on and you could see stars begin to rise, with no sign of Lilia. This was not an uncommon occurrence, of course, he had spent days outside of the cottage fighting in a war you knew you should be siding with. None of that had truly mattered, though...you come to terms that Fae had souls just as sensitive and kind to the things around them as much as any human, the only difference was lifespan. With these thoughts in mind, laying in bed and wishing yourself a happy birthday you fell asleep.

Slumber did not last long for it seemed only a few minutes passed before you were awoken by strong hands that gently shook your shoulders. Your tired eyes blinked open to find a familiar figure looming over you, black hair with streaks of red surrounding you, much to your sleepy surprise. Once realizing you were awake, Lilia stood up and tugged your arm gently.

"Human, get up, I have something to show you," The general appearance was what you'd expect of someone fighting for their life, mud-streaked cheeks and disheveled hair, although Lilia always seemed to clean himself up before greeting you. Not this night, apparently. You rushed out of bed due to his urgent request, falling over one foot after the other to put on shoes and finding something quick to be decent in. This process seemed to annoy the man, for he sighed before grabbing one of his own jackets and draping it over your shoulders. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a smile crawling onto your lips

"What's this?" You asked, "Taking me out all of the sudden, giving me your jacket to stay warm...what do you have planned, hmm?" Lilia raised his eyebrows in shock at your brazen response, a flustered shade of pink bursting upon his cheeks before turning his face away and complaining how long you were taking with your "drivel" and rushing out the door knowing you would be quick to follow. Laughing to yourself at how easy he could be to read, you made your way outside of the cottage. Lilia was leading you somewhere deep within the woods, while the greenery was all nice- you found yourself staring at him instead. The way he held onto your hand and led you through the forest with great understanding and no hesitance, how handsome he looked staring forward with such a serious face, and the way his hair flowed behind him with every confident stride left your heart melting at the sight.

"You're distracting," He suddenly said interrupting the silence, "Staring at me like that. Keep your guard up while we are outside," Although sounding cold per usual, your heart was warmed at the notion he cared to warn you out of worry for your well-being, for the forest in the Valley was not the safest place for a human such as yourself. Though, Lilias warm hand in yours reminded you just how far you've come, enough to trust him with your very life. You bit your tongue back from teasing him, for you weren't about to ruin what rare opportunity of affection he seems to be suddenly giving you.

The sound of feet against the leaves of the forest floor came to a halt, walking up the endless hill finally ceasing as he pulled you through the final stretch of trees to reveal a sight more beautiful than you could have imagined. Overhead you see a sea of forestry, with lights of soldier campfires scattered among them. You could see the castle, thinking to yourself if this is how Its beauty from afar enamoures you, you believed that seeing it up close must truly be a sight to behold. Lilia hid his smile, watching you with satisfaction at your reaction for something he has seen a hundred, no, thousands of times before. Yet something about seeing you there, staring out in the distance with such overwhelming love and fascination, he knew it was the first time he'd ever felt such complicated and confusing emotions. When you turned around to thank him, he held out a small box for you to open.

"What...what's this?" You asked, holding out your hands as he gently placed it on top of your palms. He bit his bottom lip, something you noticed he would often do when embarrassed, before turning his head away to look over the view ahead.

"Humans have very short life spans," Lilia started, "As a fae, outliving humans is simply...biology." Lilia took a seat, allowing his legs to dangle above the cliff, "Birthdays are not as important to us as they are to humans. But..." There was no mistaking the bright blush now dusted upon his cheeks, so vibrant you could see its glow even in the dark of the night where the stars and moon lit up you two.

"But I can't help but feel compelled to celebrate the day you were born, funnily enough. Its not much, you may be disappointed."

You unwrapped the messily done box, the bow strapping it together done disorderly yet the intent was still there. Opening the box you revealed a bracelet of acorns- neatly strung together. You couldn't suppress your smile, sitting next to the typically cold man and offering him a side hug, much to his dismay.

Yet he found himself allowing you to engulf him in an embrace, albeit grunting and grumbling with cheeks becoming rosier by the minute.

"I love it," you smiled, "Thank you, Lilia."

The general let out a soft sigh with a smile slowly creeping up to his lips, no longer resisting your hug. Although internally he screamed in protest, every fiber of his being begging to stop himself from falling deeper and deeper enthralled with this human he knew would not live past the time he even turned 250. Yet this moment, under the stars and the glow of the moonlight above, he found himself doing things he never thought he'd be doing, feeling emotions he thought would be lost in the field of battle, and saying things he never dreamed of saying to a human such as yourself.

"Happy birthday, (y/n). May your life be prosperous, and peace soon prevail."

~~

Happy birthday @masquerade-of-misery !! I hope it wasn't ...TOO angsty for your tastes.... Happy 33 years though!! And many more years to come!! 💜💜

[maddascanbe-blog]

Ladies and Gentlemen. I give you Little Vesperia. She's a powerful punch in a petite package! I posted her design in sketches ages ago but I was SO jazzed to finally do it digital. And I finally could do Teen Zoé and Vesperia.

Buckle up folks this is a long one.

I won't go into too much detail on Teen Zoé's fit, since I already talked about it in here. But Vesperia is where things get more interesting.

Little Vesperia obviously takes more inspiration from Queen Bee since in my rewrite Zoé idolizes Chloé so much. Zoé's father couldn't really be bothered to care about Zoé, she's been at every boarding school and summer camp he could afford while still keeping most of the money Audrey sends him. She rarely sees him, and when they are stuck together he wants her out of sight and out of mind.

Then Zoé is uprooted entirely when Audrey's infidelity is exposed. To save face she gets brought to Paris, to play at being one big happy family. She may be young, but she's wise enough to know this is just another person using her for their gain. She did face bullying at her schools, and a whole lot of nothing done about it from the teachers.

She also does not speak french. Which means that a good 70% of people have no idea how to communicate with her. And Audrey was no help. Zoé vas given so little information she didn't even KNOW she had an older sister when the was taken to France. Chloé was a complete blindside to her.

And she especially doesn't expect this intimidating teenager to kneel down to her level, and in perfect english explain that it's okay to be scared and she'll make sure Zoé won't be stuck wondering what's gonna happen next.

They spend the rest of the day learning where everyone is, and what certain things are called in french so that Zoé has a better way to communicate. They also sit down and order decorations for Zoé's room.

Zoé fully anticipated André to ignore her, but he is kind like he is in cannon. Just very busy so can only get in small conversations with her. Still, he's shown her more care than her own father had in the 9 years she's been alive. Since he'll ask her about her day, anything she may need, how school has been, etc. He also manages to get a free day to show her all the cool things in the hotel that most people don't know are there. He tries to have dinner with Chloé and Zoé as often as possible and they eat lunch together at the hotel at least once a week.

Now to Teen Zoé. I'll probably write this down in a separate post but my Idea for her is because of the limits I put on the rabbit miraculous Bunnix is no longer able to fight Timetagger, but she IS able to bring someone from that point in time to help instead. And since bringing anyone that could be recognized could potentially cause a paradox, the best solution is to bring in someone who they haven't met yet.

Design wise I like Vesperia's cannon design but it does look more like a wasp than a bee. I based her top on these biker jackets that had segments on the sides and just made the segments alternate black and yellow. I originally planned to keep the black top and yellow bottoms, but it just didn't look the way I wanted it too. I think making the jacket yellow makes it look much more like a bee. Also black mask because I like how those look better.

I think Little Vesperia looks good too, different enough from Queen Bee while still looking like she took inspiration, my favorite part was making it look like she had striped socks. While Teen Zoé looks like a logical progression while also dipping into badass as opposed to cute. Also her pupils turn gold to further differentiate her from Queen Bee.

(Bonus- Verpseria with colors closer to her originals)