#mostly on how to convey emotions through word

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Something Something Yeah It's Still Solavellan Hours (Mythal is kind of here, too)

I've seen a few very beautifully articulated posts talking about the conflicted responses players are finding themselves having in regards to the decision by writers* to have Solas' atonement route possible because of his conversation with one of the remaining fragments of Mythal.

(*honestly I hesitate to put the weight of bigger game events on their shoulders because of how much I know bigger players in the company were involved, so when you read 'writers' know I just mean whoever had final say on plot)

I love reading where people are at on this, and having now breathed, re-played the scene, cried, read some more theories, and then played the scene again enough times I think I'm now able to figure out where I'm at.

TLDR: in my humble opinion, the conversation Solas has with Mythal doesn't bring him any actual closure at all. It is only the version of the atonement ending that has Lavellan in which he is actually set upon a road to redemption.

This, like everything else where I lose my mind, will be long. I tried to restrain myself and here we are, unhinged as ever.

I was unhappy at first that Mythal's incredibly brief conversation with Solas where she releases him from her service seemed to be what finally allowed him to make a decision based on his wants and not hers. My concern stemmed mostly from the fact that a lot of us are trying to be active participants in a society that recognizes patterns of abuse and seeks to establish channels through which individuals can pursue healing without the approval, consent, or demise of their abuser.

But the more I look at the scene, the more I wonder what would have happened in a world where Veilguard got just a little more time in development. Could we have gotten a scene that more elegantly conveys the theme that we cannot heal every part of our loved ones, much as we might like to?

In an imperfect world it isn't always up to us how someone finds closure, which really sucks when you'd like to ensure a loved one finds it in a way that preserves their dignity and limits exposure to the individuals who have harmed them.

And while it could be left there, I'd like to actually push back on the idea that Mythal is in any way responsible for "healing" Solas in this moment.

I went on a different tirade a few days ago about how at the end of Inquisition, Mythal says words to Solas that on their surface seem well-intentioned or placating, but they actually just serve to further bind him in guilt and a position of servitude. In Veilguard's finale, she still does not take accountability for exactly how much of a role she played in the pain that Solas, a man others have revered and feared as a god, has gone through as he cowers, actually cowers before her.

Mythal's interaction with Solas conveys exactly two things to him as far as I am concerned (I'm going to botch these quotes but my laptop is dying so please accept some paraphrase as I rush to finish this before I go cry about this analysis to my uncaring dog):

"The terrible things we did, we did together." You are forever tied to me.

"I release you from my service." But what am I releasing you to?

Because up until Lavellan joins the fray here, all I take away from the physical and unwilling emotional cues Solas gives in this scene (he is a master in trickery, for goodness' sake, the thought of so many witnesses seeing him unable to hide behind a mask has to leave him feeling anguished on top of everything else) is that Mythal has once again reminded him of everything he did in her name and telling him that all that's left for him is to go back to the fade prison and, as he as always done, endure the crushing weight of his failures alone.

To me, in my interpretation, the Solas that hears this from Mythal with no Lavellan intervention may choose to willingly step down from his original plan (and yeah, that's gonna do some damage) but he is certainly not free of his past. He's going to be reminded of it every time he turns a corner and finds more blight to try and soothe, and even the moments that he rests will be filled with more manifestations of his regret. He says it himself: where he's going? It's terrible.

Enter Lavellan. Yeah, he couldn't bring himself to listen to her at her first plea (but like damn how many times are we going to have to watch her give a heartfelt speech only for him to be like 'something something beautiful elven rejection'). But I know that you know that our clever icon knows better than to take what Solas says at face value. She tells Rook plainly that he's absolute dogshit at lies of the heart, and she says it with her whole chest.

Lavellan sees the way his shoulders slump (in resignation yes, but you can't convince me there's not a little bit of relief there, too), she hears the agony in the "vhenan" that escapes his lips (which, don't even get me started on the fact that it's been like nine years and he has no hesitation at all calling her his heart, it just spills out of him). It is not the sound of a man delighting in the steps he's about to take. They're certainly not steps he does not dislike that lead to a destination he enjoys.

And then she watches Mythal (who I can't imagine she feels any sort of fondness or respect for) pull some weird nonsense on her love one final time, and she knows it's her moment to shine.

Mythal, I would argue, pushes Solas down one more time, shames him into seeking atonement, into once again being alone.

It is the romanced Lavellan that kneels so that he cannot fail to meet her eyes. It is she who invokes their connection, not to remind him of his failures but to reaffirm his greatest strength: their love and their love alone is inevitable. Not the consequences of his past, not the regret he thinks will consume him as he seeks to mend what has been broken. It has only ever been them.

"There is no fate but the love we share". We are forever tied together.

"There is no fate but the love we share." *I* am releasing you from everything else save for this love.

Put colloquially: get absolutely fucking wrecked, Mythal.

Body language comparison to chase up the dialogue one, anyone? The way Solas shrinks before Mythal as opposed to him walking off into the fade with Lavellan at his side and standing tall, and he does not flinch when she lifts a hand to his shoulder?

Ultimately, Mythal is a part of the atonement endings no matter what. But it is only Lavellan that refuses to let him walk alone. It is only Lavellan that guarantees that his dinan'shiral ends not in a prison of regret, but a place of promise.

Mythal bends Solas until he breaks one last time. Lavellan takes each piece, claims it as hers, and uses them to build the beginnings of a future.

[loose-whisper]

"why scared?"

He ask, the wind blew gust of itself through strands of silver and bronze. Wobbly footings, is it the wind, or is it the future? Both, I offer. City night beneath me are hazy, his voice's like a daisy amidst my taunting soul.

Yet, I'am still astrays.

no further answer than—"I don't know"—I simply state, slowly reaching out for a little grip to held me down, his hand.

"I don't know, it felt so hazy, it all felt so meaningless and then not. I felt alive for a mere sec then it's all... Dull... I mourn but then... isn't it all meaningless in the end?" My hand tumble for the warmth further, hoping it'll seep and ease the thoughts away.

He smiles, so delicate. "Aren't we all?" the sun woes in an endearing way, bronze instead of blonde yet no less prettier than the stars he truly is. "Yeah, I know" I shrug, idlely tumbling around his fingers through my own. "which is weird...." I add, gazing up to see if he's still with me or should I stop,

He is.

So I breathe.

"...If us, humans, are born with a purpose, they say, then why are we so lost? How can some have goal and most are not? How can sometime it felt like a meaningful color haze, and then suddenly snaps into a trance of deafening bleakness? Like I was naught but a simple fish snatch from my coral"

I pause

"Am'i even saying anything?"

Am'i even saying anything?

Fancy.

I'm just a person, with a laptop, not on a rooftop, not with a company, alone and contemplating.

So am'i even saying anything?

I don't even know anything.

At least I'm breathing?

[transdimensional-haboob]

Wistfully thinks of Spellwind, I should make a headcanons up to ep 31 list its just my equivalent of like Skyrim or lotr where theres so much going on and so dense but god damn one of my favorite episodes was when two of my favorite characters became trees and the entire experience was like...they were tripping on shrooms but also one with the shrooms? Its like episode 8

and I love the dms orc captain that hates going on land and is there for the in between transportation from sea to sea land to land ferryman (not really I feel like its mostly hard to narrate and have a character at the same time) I just love captain buttocks' (yeah I'm pretty sure thats his name) humor and how him and djett ('jet') were closer in the beginning

I love ty and varsha together but I also ship smith with them as time went on, I can't tell who I want to joke as the third smith and varsha are friends to lovers, ty and varsha are irritated assholes to lovers, smith is just a jaded old fuck that loves his morons (he respects varsha a lot and thinks ty is an entertaining idiot)

Varsha and Djett are siblings they love each other like family and share different spells and potions and knowledge of interest notes

I feel like the only person really thinking too deeply about this tabletop story and wanted to drop a few lines of appreciation, I like listening to it to go to sleep since its so slow paced and gently spoken and the music and sound efx is so sweet

[queers-gambit]

Match Made in Grey Haven

prompt: ( requested ) you find yourself in what feels like a distant relationship through penned letters. overcome with shyness during his visits, you avoid Herald Elrond - until your grandfather (and co.) steps in as matchmaker.

pairing: Elrond x shy!female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 2.9k+

note: it's not much, i'm so sorry.

warnings: takes place BEFORE the events of TROP, abrupt ending, small hurt mostly comfort, feelings are hard, author is very abrasive and isn't sure this is conveyed fully as "shy" so i'm sorry, anxiety, unedited, wonky brain goes wonky, fluff, small drama, lost + healthy family relationships, romance, friends-to-lovers.

part two: The Risk

"You appear ill at-ease," Círdan mentioned as he casually strolled from the shadows of his workshop, the last of the day lingering in a warm glow, "which I am not accustomed to seeing on a face such as yours."

Elrond, busy at work carving one of the perfect ships his old master was crafting a fleet of, barely slowed down but did glance up in acknowledgment. He sniffled hastily, looking back at the pliable wood under his hands.

"Merely focused, my Lord, nothing more."

"Hm," Círdan hummed, pacing around slowly, hands clasped behind his back, chin up, shoulders back, grey locks glistening in familiar waves, "interesting choice of words."

"How so?" Elrond paused to pet the curve of the wood, trying in vain to hide his true bubbling feelings. He went straight back to work, aware Círdan watched him closely.

"Y/N said the exact same." This made the High King's Herald pause in full, Círdan smirking, "Ah, just as I suspected."

"I do not think - "

"You fool nobody but yourself," Círdan chuckled, waving off Elrond's words and stepping closer to admire the boat carving. "She cares for you, too, you know?"

"With respect, my Lord... But you are mistaken," Elrond deflected. "Your granddaughter and I, we are merely friends - if that. We only exchange letters - "

"And feelings," Círdan pointed out, watching Elrond flush under his interrogation. Just outside the doors, you approached, thinking you would fetch your grandfather for supper; slowing when the older, wiser Elf tisked, "Ah, come now, Elrond, do not look so forlorn, there are worst fates than that of emotional - "

"With respect," Elrond repeated, cutting Círdan off, your hand hovering over the door handle, "there are no emotions involved when it comes to your granddaughter."

You froze.

"Yet I will not believe that," Círdan shot back.

"There is little to be said that might sway you, my Lord, but it is true. We are..." You listened as Elrond took a sharp inhale, "We are friends, nothing more. Our foundation lays in companionship, we exchange letters - share our thoughts, ideas, and feelings. There's nothing more."

Círdan hummed in amusement, "That so? Then... Why, in the past 6 months, have you come here - what is it? Six? Seven times?"

"Eight," Elrond corrected automatically, wincing when your grandfather chuckled and you lowered your hand. Yet you did not walk away yet.

"You claim business with the High King brings you to us so frequently," Círdan continued, "yet, the matters discussed can be solved through letters alone. Nothing that deems an emissary. So, tell me in truth... Why?"

"My Lord?"

"Why do you come? I know it is not for Gil-Galad alone, so, tell me in truth, why the frequent trips?"

You could hear Elrond resume his wood carving and you became acutely aware of your position. Backing away, you fled the scene, petrified over the idea of being caught; yet your mind was stuffed full with what you heard. It'd been years since you first met Elrond, the young, fresh, baby-faced Herald of the High King; and while initially fascinatingly attracted to him, you were detrimentally shy.

Like, so shy, it makes you mute - to an extent.

He wasn't a Herald yet, though, and came to apprentice under your grandfather. Elrond became a constant presence around the Grey Havens - a talented, shining star of a student who studied diligently. You admired his work from afar at first, then, Círdan asked you to row one of Elrond ships around the harbor.

It was well known you were the apple of Círdan's eye; his favorite thing in the material world, the reason he refused to give himself over to the Valar yet. He was supposed to sail... But his daughter was soon to give birth, so he waited; and thankfully, because plague claimed your father and mother from complications of your birth. So, Círdan raised you.

Elrond panicked at Círdan's request, stepping into your pathway without thought and gasping, "No!" You shied back into your grandfather's side, the dark haired Elf amending swiftly, "I apologize, I-I did not mean to be so - so abrupt. But... Let me work a few more days, ensure it is to perfection."

You smiled gently and nodded, Círdan smirking and leading you away - the start of a formal friendship. After testing Elrond's boat (when ready), you sent him a note that expressed your impression and complimenting his woodworking skills, even saying you looked forward to his future creations.

His first letter back to you was one of thousands, and the start of his Heraldry.

Yet now, in present day, you wondered if these letters weren't enough and if he thought you untruthful in your declaration of affection. While your companionship had now lasted decades, you were still insecure enough that you lose wit, cheek, and tongue when he's around. And now, the past half a year, you've seen him eight times and couldn't muster your courage, and perhaps, it wasn't enough for Elrond anymore.

You just expressed yourself better in words! And you didn't leave Círdan's side; you did not venture around Middle-earth, never left your sanctuary. You adored Elrond's accounts of adventures and travels and work, it was your only time to "live", even if vicariously.

Now, worriment set in; anxious that you weren't enough.

"Ah," Círdan hummed as he and Elrond entered your humble home for supper, "it smells divine in here, sweet girl."

"Thank you," you whispered, setting the table for the meal as Elrond was the one who would not meet your eye.

"I'll be a moment, I need to wash up," he excused himself, always presentable; forever perfect.

You just sighed as he slipped from the room; a typical guest in your home, especially with his...recent increased business from the High King. "You seem pensive," Círdan noted, taking the bowl of salad to the table for you. "Is there anything on your mind you wish to discuss?"

"Nothing of note."

"Then speak to me of something not of note."

"If it is of no note, Grandfather, why give it voice?"

"Because it still takes up room, be it in your head and heart - which gives it validation to speak of."

You paused at the table, finding him grinning, offering an unamused glare. "I told you not to do that," you reprimanded softly.

"Do what?"

"Your - little - your pearls wisdom!" You groaned childishly, collapsing into a chair. "You can let me stew and figure things out for myself, we do not always have to speak of matters. It is an unfair advantage that I am inundated with your pearls and others toil for direction!"

Círdan chuckled, folding his hands before his dinner plate. "To complain of such an advantage is - "

"I know."

"Then why do it?"

"Because..."

"You are frustrated with your own emotion that you refuse to give life to?"

With a huff, you nodded, "Exactly."

"What is the matter?"

Your head shook in deflection, "Perhaps, I am just overwhelmed. I think I'll take a walk - "

"But supper - "

"I'll eat later," you promised, reaching out to lay your hand on his and smile, "I just need a few moments to breathe. Eat, enjoy, I'll find you later."

You left before another word could be spoken. When Elrond reentered the kitchen, he only found Círdan and wondered, "Where's Y/N?"

"She seemed distraught, saddened by something. She decided to go for a walk, clear her head a bit."

"Right," Elrond nodded, feeling awkward just standing there.

"Come, sit, eat," Círdan invited with a small smirk, "she's probably gone off to the workshop, she likes to write there. Says it's more inspiring than the library. Come, Elrond... She'll be awhile."

Elrond frowned and looked to the door, Círdan knowing his words were replaying in the half-Elf's mind. "Perhaps I should check on her?" He asked his old Master. "It would be wrong to eat without the chef, would it not?"

"I was thinking the same," the older, greying Elf nodded, "though you waste your time, that girl is stubborn - trapped in her mind too often."

"How do you mean?"

"It's why she writes," Círdan explained, "at least, why she writes you, I imagine. She often loses her voice, feels as if she is not entitled to it's very being - so, she writes, uses her words... And seemingly, you understand them best - relate to her, in a way. So," he took a breath, "go, if you wish, but know, she's unlikely to speak."

Elrond was out the door before Círdan could uncork the bottle of wine left on the table. He smirked to himself, musing, "Oh, these kids..."

You had left your home and made a beeline for your grandfather's workshop, shutting the doors with a great big breath of relief before groaning in emotional frustration. "Oh, how silly!" You snipped to yourself, "This is all so silly, it makes no sense! I mean, the way I just shut down? It's so silly! Losing my voice? Over a man? Oh, just rubbish!" Your hands shook out violently. "I just need to say it, you know? I just need to say it - then he knows, he'll know and I can get rid of this silly feeling. He deserves to hear me say it, else he might think he's unwelcome, he might not want to visit..." You were unaware of Elrond approaching the door, opening it as you groaned once more, "OH! He's just a lad! He's just like you, you silly lass! Well, not entirely just like me - but he's just - he's just Elrond! What is there to fear!?"

"Is there someone else here I should address?" Elrond smirked gently as he stepped forward to make himself known, "Or do you often speak of me, to yourself?"

You squeaked and came to a halt, dress twirling around your ankles when you spun to face him. Hands came together, instantly threading your fingers and wringing them together nervously as your visitor smiled gently and slowly (so slowly) stepped forward. With a deep breath, you greeted, "Lord Elrond."

"Oh, please," he sighed, "are we not past formalities?"

"Far beyond," you agreed, shaking your head and facing the open wall that showcased the harbor and horizon; the last of the sunlight streaking the sky with water-painted color.

"It felt wrong to indulge on such a gorgeous creature without the architect being there to experience it first," he told you, coming to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with respectable distance still between you. "Yet you fled before..."

"I'm sorry," you blurted out, feeling suffocated briefly, "I could not linger."

"Is there a reason to feel unwelcome in your own home?"

You took a breath, "Well, um, it's just - it's you... You are the reason..."

Elrond startled, "What? I-I'm sorry, what have I done? What did I do?"

"You're you," you turned to him, "and that's not your fault, but you're you, and it drives me to insanity."

"I don't think I follow? I thought - in our letters, I thought we had a connection. That we understood one another...? And now that I'm here, you shy away from me, have I truly offended you so gravely?"

"No, Elrond, you have not offended me - it's the opposite," you risked your own comfort and reached out for his bicep first; which, in turn, made him step closer. "You are not betrayed, nor are you mistaken. There's a connection, of course there is. I do not know anyone who could fake such affection for such an extended period of time," you scoffed.

"Perhaps Sauron - "

"But you nor I are he."

"No," Elrond smiled gently, shifting his arms downward to hold your elbows and caress you into his chest as your hands were rearranged to his chest, "we are not, thank the Valar."

"I do not deceive you. The affection I hold for you, it's authentic and genuine. It's real, Elrond, it's real..."

"It is?" He asked, lifting a hand to hold your jaw; thumb caressing the apple of your cheek.

"It is. I was just... You disarm me. You make me small again, you make me tongue-tied, confused, excited - like everything is new again. And it both scares and invigorates me that I do not know what to do in those moments, so I hide from you. In your letters, I can plan my words; but when you're here, in front of me, under my hands," you cooed, petting his velvet tunic, "I lose my nerve. My senses..."

Elrond chuckled, hands drifting down to hold you by the base of your ribcage, "This... This is a relief to hear. I worried I offended you, that I had upset you in some way. That I ruined this before it had a chance to take shape."

"Hardly," you mused. "I lose my nerve around you, I feel so silly - so young and green to love..."

"'Love'?" He repeated.

"Oh, I just - I only meant - "

"Take comfort in the fact that the feeling is mutual, my sweet." Elrond chuckled, caressing your cheek lovingly, "I fear the High King may grow tired of me asking to personally deliver Círdan his letters."

"Perhaps I will have to find reason to visit you?"

"I would like that, perhaps more than I should admit," he whispered, slowly lowering his lips onto yours for a much awaited kiss - giving you every opportunity to back out, but it's not like you ever would. Not when you've waited for this for so long. His hand now cupped your jaw, sliding sweetly towards the back of your neck. Kissing Elrond was everything you thought: soft, gentle, evenly-paced, commandeering, all encompassing, and mind-numbing; you never wanted this to end, you never wanted to stop kissing him.

However, your moment was cut short by a loud crunching; pulling back as Elrond did, both turning to the main doors to spy your grandfather, Círdan, standing there smugly. He was holding a bowl made of bamboo, eating a crisp salad, barely holding back his grin. Upon seeing his mirthful expression, you deflated into Elrond's chest; his arm coiling around your waist to keep you anchored in place while the other dropped to open his stance - proving he didn't feel defensive.

"Grandfather?" You questioned softly.

"Mh," he swallowed his bite, "don't mind me, just appreciating the fruits of my labor."

"I beg your pardon?" You laughed.

Círdan shrugged, "You are both young and intelligent. Wise. Insightful," he listed, "yet you are so naïve to think this union was yours alone."

Elrond glanced down at you in confusion, brows furrowed, asking, "What do you mean, my Lord?"

"Grandfather, it was Elrond and I who penned letters for decades - "

"Indeed," Círdan agreed, "but why do you think the High King has sent Lord Elrond to us so often these past few months?"

You were both stunned into silence, Elrond asking, "You? You asked him to...to send me?"

"I did," Círdan nodded, "it is disheartening to see my granddaughter, whom I love so utterly and dearly, driven into isolation because emotions can be so complicated and difficult. It was time for you two to finally confront your emotions, and after three months, we both knew we had to up our efforts..."

"The High King was in on this!?" You squeaked, feeling embarrassment seize your heart.

"You know, despite being High King, Gil-Galad is still fun," Círdan defended with a smirk. "So, he devised new engagements to send Elrond here for - giving the two of you longer days together between my responses. He agreed to send Herald Elrond himself here upon my encouragement. From your first interaction, I saw what you two have always felt. It's good of you to admit your feelings, is it not? Relieving, I mean?"

"Terribly," you agreed, Elrond rubbing your waist in support.

"Well, then you'll be happy to know, I've begun my response to Gil-Galad, so you'll have a few more days here, Elrond. I expect that boat done," he teased, "and upon your return to Lindon, I will be sending my granddaughter to accompany you as my own emissary."

"What for?" You breathed in shocked happiness, lips turning up brightly.

"It is time you begin a new education, my girl," he grinned, "and the High King has granted his blessing."

"Why would the High King be involved for my education?"

"I want you on a tour of Middle-earth," he explained, "meeting dignitaries, taking notes on what you see, hear, experience. I want detailed accounts, my girl, for our records so the King has agreed to send Herald Elrond to guide your tour."

"You've done all of that... For me?" You couldn't help the tears that sprung to your eyes, pure glee lightening your heart and head. Then, a sudden thought made you worry, "Why? Do you wish to away with me?"

"On the contrary," Cirdan set aside his bowl and approached you, Elrond letting go so you two could meet in the middle of the workshop, "I despise the idea of letting you go, even to carry my work back to the High King... Knowing you'll return shortly... But sending you on this tour is a necessity, sweet girl, because I only trust your written accounts. It's time... It's time for you to see the world I've long protected you from as it truly is and bring us back update records and accounts, and who better to show it to you than Elrond Peredhel?" He smiled, looking over your shoulder at his ex-student. You felt Elrond near your flank, Círdan looking at the two of you fondly; even reaching out to caress your cheek as he breathed in deeply. "What joy my heart feels, knowing you two have found one another."

"What joy we feel you decided to play matchmaker," you chuckled.

"Well, they say perfection only exists in Valinor, but I was determined to challenge that."

part two: The Risk

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

[hxnbi]

「 THEIR LOVE LANGUAGE 」

synopsis: the ways that they show their love

— characters: gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, okkotsu yuta, nanami kento

— contents: fluff, a lil bit of angst and comfort in nanami's, gn reader

part two | masterlist

GOJO SATORU ➽ words of affirmation & gift-giving

This man is rich. Plain as day, there is no doubt about that. There is nothing that Satoru won't do to go to the ends of the earth to get you. The number of times you would receive gifts from this man would have Ieiri, Utahime, and even Mei's eyes widen in horror. And maybe even perhaps jealousy—to see a man so high up his ass so utterly devoted to his partner.

His mornings and afternoons would often be spent teaching his young students at Jujutsu Tech, but it didn't stop him from diving into a whirlwind of activity, all stemming from his blatant infatuation with you. Whenever he had the chance, perhaps luring his students for a "trip" with the promise of going to Roppongi, he inevitably found himself scouring the markets for any trinkets that caught his eye. But who could blame him? After all, they were virtually beckoning him to buy it for you—a delicate necklace, a quaint keychain, or a colorful bouquet of wildflowers. Each item held a piece of his heart, a token of his affection waiting to be shared with you and only you.

Satoru wasn't deterred. Hell, he was hardly even fazed by the indifferent stares or the murmurs of disdain that often followed his well-meaning gestures—mostly by his colleagues, probably thinking he was processed by a cursed spirit, God forbid, but I digress. Love wasn’t just a word to be said but a sentiment to be expressed through actions, however small or grand they may appear. But if that was what Satoru really thought a relationship was, then God may as well have struck him down at that moment. It didn't matter what people thought of him or even what material possessions he bestowed upon you; you're his entire world and don't deserve any less. 

To be able to feel pampered by his kindness and love through gifts. It warmed your heart to know how special you really were to him. Satoru may be rich, but he also knows about the superficial aspects of a relationship and tries to avoid them. But in the end, if that’s what you want, he'll do whatever it takes to make you happy. All he wishes for is your happiness and nothing more. As the strongest sorcerer in the world, Satoru knows he has a lot of power, and he is willing to put that all on the line for you to flourish. The man, to the surprise of no one, had a knack for flirting, effortlessly winning hearts with his smooth talk and irresistible charm. He can even be a flirt at times, for sure, but Satoru despised that label. To him, it's his way of showing that he is all yours. He's a tease who knows how to use his words to woo you—though it can sometimes be a bit much. You know that what he's doing is just trying to cheer you up.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI ➽ acts of service & words of affirmation

From the very beginning of your relationship, moments of vulnerability and intimacy were always scarce and few in between. He would never do or say something that you were uncomfortable with. He respects your boundaries and expects the same in return. Megumi, quietly and reservedly, sometimes has trouble articulating his thoughts. His words often fall short of capturing the depth of his feelings. Yet beneath this rock-solid exterior lies a heart that yearns for your happiness above all else—even his own. His emotions are conveyed not through words but through subtle gestures and actions veiled behind his typical stoic demeanour.

As much as Yuji and Nobara would tease him for it, their jests and blatant remarks were all rooted in good faith. Because in the end, when they would see just the way that he would gaze at you and how he would constantly be attentive to your well-being during missions—contrary to popular belief, not smothering you with overprotectiveness but ensuring that he's always there to support you—they would realize how committed Megumi really was. They understand that Megumi's silence speaks volumes. Gojo, for one, would disagree and instead say he was "utterly and completely smitten" with you, his eyes seeing the world through rose-colored lenses, but if that is the case, then so be it. 

When he extends a hand to help you out, whether it's on a mission to exorcise cursed spirits or simply going through the strains of daily life, it's a gesture that speaks volumes. To you, his short and sincere words were his way of showing that he cared. He is your protector, and he will ensure you know this about him. You don't have to lift a finger; he's already on it. His presence alone makes your cheeks flush pink.

OKKOTSU YUTA ➽ quality time & physical touch

Yuta cherishes the intimacy of being close to his loved one, especially when it's with you. Throughout his life, he's often felt isolated and disconnected from the world around him. Having someone he's genuinely close to fills his heart with a sense of completeness. And to him, you are everything—his entire world.

Quality time, to Yuta, means all the time—whether you both are on a mission, training, or even just together in the classroom, you best believe that Yuta will be following you around like a dog with its owner. But he doesn't do it just because it's expected. He knows his strength and wants to protect you no matter what. And if he can't find you? Without a doubt, Yuta will be deploying all of his nerves and anxiety to the forefront of his very being to see you.

You understand that, after all the trauma that Yuta's been through in his life, that is what makes up his anxieties. The scars of his past linger and still continue to haunt him—those memories of loss and loneliness. It's a burden he carries with him always, and that hurts. But unbeknownst to you, your presence alone healed him far more than any reverse cursed technique could. It would heal physical injuries, but internal ones? That was all you—the solace in his once dark-lit life.

Yuta's love language becomes evident. Not even the most oblivious people could look at the way Yuta looked at you and assume it was anything other than pure adoration. It's in the gentle brush of your hand against his, the comforting warmth of your embrace, and the way you lean in just a little closer when you speak, just to be able to hear him a bit more clearly. His affection is expressed through subtle touches and lingering gazes. He loves you, and you love him—just the way he is.

NANAMI KENTO ➽ quality time & words of affirmation

Straight up, he's one of the more mature men out there. Nanami is stone-cold, but he is painstakingly thorough in his care in practically everything he does. He can be a workaholic at times, for sure, but he knew what would become of him if that was all that he did. Despite his dedication to his work, he always made a conscious effort to prioritize his relationships and to nurture and cherish the time he had with you. He wanted for both you and him to live a proper and healthy life. Whether you were just feeling off about yourself or going through a tough time, Nanami would be right by your side in a matter of seconds to comfort you. 

If he were at work, he would drop everything he was doing, call you directly on his cell phone regardless of the weird looks he was getting from his colleagues, and immediately put on his jacket and drive to where you were, only to see you alone in your shared home curled up on the couch, and that made him angry—more than that. But he knew that, above all else, he needed to comfort you, and perhaps, even himself…

No questions would be asked of him, as he would then lift you up in his arms and reassure you that you didn’t have to tell him now but that he was here for you and would always be. He'd then take you somewhere in hopes of taking your mind off whatever was haunting your thoughts because, in his mind, you didn't deserve that burden while he could help. Even just his words alone would soothe your troubled mind. Every action and gesture he made to guarantee your well-being demonstrated his undying dedication to you. And if those words weren't enough, Nanami would drop everything and show his love through quality time spent together. Whether it was a quiet evening at home or a leisurely stroll through the city streets, he cherished every moment shared in your company. 

You cherished having him by your side, and you wouldn't have it any other way. And it didn't matter to him if you were feeling down or struggling with something, down to the littlest thing. And it didn't matter to him if you thought it was troublesome to tell him.

Because he always knew what to say.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

[theflashjaygarrick]

Today I want to talk about Cassandra Cain and the 'silent asian' trope.

From what I have read the silent Asian trope is seemingly a manifestation of the far older 'inscrutable Asian trope in Western culture and fiction. The inscrutable Asian trope positions Asian characters as the perpetual foreign other in comparison to a ''familiar' whiteness or Westernness. They are mercurial, mysterious, and 'exotic', hyper-competent and alluring but cold. Considering the white, Western gaze in which American media is created, these Asian characters are therefore constructed to be as distant and mysterious to the audience as they are to the characters. And it is in this way that Cass, even when she was (largely) silent challenges this trope.

I'm going to be analysing issue #2 of the Batgirl 2000 run. (it'll be a long post so I'm going to put this under a keep reading.

Cass is undoubtedly mysterious to the other (largely white) members of the Batfamily but through Batgirl 2000s the reader is made very aware of who she is. This is achieved through close narrative focus wherein the reader is more mostly supposed to be seeing the world from Cass’s perspective, not her from other peoples perspective.

This disparity between the inner world the audience is privy to and the external impression of her is made explicit in issue #2. We see explicitly that Babs finds Cass unknowable.

Cass’s shrug is snarky and she is smiling and looks pretty pleased with herself. But Barbara cannot understand what she means, and condescendingly berates Cass for not learning language and therefore not being able to talk to her like a ‘normal person’. Here we have a blatant case of the inscrutable Asian trope, but we aren’t meant to be seeing this story through Babs’ eyes. We’re seeing it through Cass’s.

Damon Scott’s art style here emphasises dynamic and clear expression over looking pretty or normal. Thus allows the reader to see the world through Cass’s eyes where the important information is equally communicated through pose and facial expressions. What would be micro expressions becoming macro expressions through Cass’s eyes. See how Babs’ friendly smile contorts into an exaggerated frown one panel apart. See again the smug and satisfied look on Cass’ face that in universe a skilled detective cannot decipher.

the characters in this (of all genders) are allowed to be expressive even when it is not attractive. The close ups are centred around their faces and their bodies in a way meant to convey emotion and unspoken thought, not sex appeal. Like compare this depiction of Babs and Cass to how Oracle is drawn by Ed Benes in birds of prey.

And unlike the inscrutable Asian Cass is allowed to be bold, opinionated, and snarky when silent. She’s allowed to have emotions so clear on her face that the reader can identify them beneath a full face mask. In a world where casting directors are still saying they don’t hire Asian actors because they ‘can’t emote enough’ drawing an Asian woman as one of the most expressive dc heroines is important.

In the rest of this Cass goes to find a missing man who she saved earlier in the issue. Oracle has located him in an abandoned derelict prison and Cass immediately throws herself into the situation. By the time she gets there however the man is already about to die. He’s been beaten too bad for anyone, even a Batgirl, to save him. And when he dies Cass stands there watching as the light leaves his eyes. She becomes brutal, although not murderous. And he when he dies he gives his wife the last letter he ever wrote. He asks this Batgirl to gave his final words to his wife.

Of course Cass does. And sees the tears drying in the widow’s eyes as the woman reads what he said (we don’t know what, Cass does not either). No other well meaning words or gestures can bring the relief and peace to that woman that his letter did. Seeing for the first time what the written word can mean to people Cass goes home to Oracle’s watchtowers and begins to try to learn to write.

And there we are one again introduced to the external perspective that sees Cass as unknowable. Who cannot begin to imagine what about seeing a man die after failing to save him would encourage her write when she never was interested before.

But we know. To the audience she is not inscrutable but instead a traumatised yet perfectly understandable young women. We are walked through her motives. see the world filtered through her point of view. Even with her speaking two words throughout this issue it is hard to call her silent.

[extrajigs]

Wanted to figure out how chimera’s wrote and ended up starting on their written language proper. MASSIVE info dump below! 

Writing

They write using four fingers of one hand, usually the right, coated in ink. Think like a stamp almost. The three middle fingers draw with the tips of the teeth whilst the thumb will alternate between tip and back. All words are written simultaneously inward. The remaining fingers grip the source of ink, usually a length of hardened pigment only wetted on one side OR those who write often could invest in a pen. A pen for a chimera is a fanning brush saturated with ink that the writing teeth brush through when needing to reink. It allows for much faster wetting of the teeth, but can be messy when learning or refilling. 

Most chimera are right handed but left handed individuals exist, they will simply need to learn to use the two fingers opposite the middle in reverse of how someone who is right handed would! Luckily all fingers can move pretty independently of each other and it is an easy task.  As chimera mostly communicate through direct broadcast most find the written word lacking, so it is a common occupation among Chimera to write for others. It is an impressive skill to eloquently convey ideas/feelings through writing. Though their language set up lends to it MUCH more than others. 

The Nitty Gritty

All subject to change as this is very first drafty. 

Chimeric is a logographic language, there is no set alphabet and all ‘words’ stem from symbols representing things and ideas. Sentences are kind of two sentences atop one another, with one being the literal and the other the reactionary. It is read from out to in and sentences are written in a circle divided into 4 quarters. We’ll start with the top moving counter clockwise. 

Quarter 1 (Red) is the subject area, now subjects function the same as nouns for the most part, people, places, and things. But something important to note is that there must always be an ‘audience’ for the words being spoken. An audience basically means pronouns though they are a lot more encompassing with: I, You, Us, Them, Them excluding me/you, Us excluding you, Everyone, and a bunch of others. These are all acceptable audience subjects to top off your sentence. For instance you wouldn’t say “This pizza tastes good!” you would instead say “I enjoy the taste of this pizza” or “Everyone enjoys the taste of this pizza” the opinion/emotion needs to be applied to a source to make sense grammatically. 

Quarter 2 (Green) is all about emotions and opinions. Chimeric language is an exchange of ideas but also importantly emotions and feelings. Q2 is dedicated to how the sentence is supposed to be interpreted or felt by the reader, as obviously in ‘spoken’ chimeric speaker and listener technically feel the same about what is currently being said. Listener opinion is very distinct from speaker and in writing the speaker takes priority. So for example the statement “Who finished the box but left it in the pantry?” would instead have to be translated into something akin to “I am pissed and questioning who had the audacity to finish the box and did not care enough to remove it from the pantry thus leaving me to find it and become disappointed?” Basically chimeric lends itself to very long translations due to their feelings.  

Quarter 3 (Blue) is the action section of the sentence. The verbs if you will. This is where things are happening and is VERY tied in with Q1. Subjects in Q1 and Q2 will be linked together with lines that follow the same slice through the circle.

When a subject is linked to an action that means that the subject is the one performing the action, whereas subjects closer to the center and unaligned with an action are what is being acted upon. Like with the audience conundrum though an action needs a subject to actually act, whether it is an individual/s or an object or place. This is usually the least word heavy portion of the sentence as it is almost supplemental to Q1, and in contrast to the thin, crisp lines of the other quarters, Q3 will often be smudgey and more messy due to being written mostly with the back of the thumb. 

Quarter 4 (Yellow) is generally not going to have any words written there, as it functions as the anchor point for the hand. The outmost finger rests here on the page to stabilize the hand as it closes during writing. When writing in a ream of papers this is where the hole to hold them all together is punched through. However in modern fanciful writing styles Q4 is also used as a secondary emotional quarter. This style will use Q4 as the reactionary emotion of the reader, more so the expected reaction and emotion from the reader. This is an EXTREMELY class based writing style and it is a GIANT NO NO to write like this for someone of higher status to read. Typically only Clan heads will freely use this writing style, especially towards each other lmao. The writing style of the passive aggressive power struggle. 

All together Quarters are read at once! And I mean that there is no one word the chimera will start with. Every word of the sentence is absorbed at the same time, no following along a line like how I’m currently typing. But what indicates the order of which things are meant to be perceived is how close they are to the outside of the circle. Things closer to the center come later in the sentence and will be understood to be lower in the hierarchy of words. However only subjects and actions are directly linked to each other, emotion/opinion words are to have a more natural seep throughout the entirety of the sentence with only a loose idea of where they are to be felt. In this way while a subjects actions may be concrete, the writers feelings about them are more fluid and organic. 

Chimeric conlang yay! I wanted to make modern Mirum script but decided I needed to start at the roots. So technically two written languages originate from Mirum, but they are extremely similar with one directly branching from the other. Chimeric is the original and Miran is the derivative, they mostly share characters but their sentence structure is different. Chimeric keeps the circular structure whereas Miran is a zigzagging horizontal and completely drops quarters 2 and 4. Leading to modern Miran being a very literal language vs Chimeric’s emotion heavy focus. But if you know one you can pretty much read the other, albeit with some culture shock. 

[grandline-fics]

Hi! Liquid Courage introduced me to your work and I love the way you write so I thought I should trust you with a request of mine:)

Law x reader; in one point in time one of them subtly confessed but the feeling seemed to be unrequited They both are pining for each other, both have a sweet spot for each other and a connection beyond friendship but both just turn a blind eye to it/not think too much about it. One night after drinking a bit much Law(or reader) starts getting a little touchy but not in a sexual way. (ex. they are sitting next to each other and he slowly hooks his pinky with hers) The touches convey untold truths that are still felt the next morning. After that the touches and the longing stares continue until one of them breakes by the intensity of the moment and decide to confront the other.

I will leave the fate (and the nature) of said moment up to you. Thank you in advance for considering it! Cant wait to read more of your work<3

ps if it helps you in any way in my mind this is kinda angsty. I love angst+possessiveness but I don’t mind how it will come out for you! Really I don’t t mind if you switch up the whole scenario… whatever works for you

If you’re inspired by music, these two play in my mind: All i need- Radiohead + Just pretend- Bad Omens

DESCRIPTION: You’re both silently in love and finally decide to confront your feelings

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol consumption, brief angst at fear of unrequited feelings, mostly fluff

CHARACTERS: Law

WORDS: 1,591

A/N: Thank you so much for this request. I hope I was able to create something that matched what you were looking for and that it's to your liking.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

From the day you joined the crew Law knew you were someone different. You had a presence he relaxed around a lot faster than others he’d encountered in his travels. You managed to gain his trust and proved yourself a capable and crucial member of the team and situated into the crew to the point no one could really remember a time before you. It felt effortless to be around you and Law counted you amongst one of his most trusted and closest friends. And for the longest time friends was all he considered you to be. Whether through a mix of sheer obliviousness and professional refusal to indulge his feelings any further than that. The line was clearly established that you two were just friends. 

However the heart wants what it wants and emotion is very separate to logic. Despite you both maintaining a friendship as deep as they came, your bodies still sought each other out. When it came to chores you were always close by. If not side by side you where always in the same room. When he was working on medical tasks you were his second, working in silent tandem with your own set rhythm that no others could match if they tried. While it annoyed the crew to no end why nothing deeper ever happened between you both, they decided to say nothing out of fear that if they did point out the obvious connection then that flow and peace between you both would shatter and be destroyed. 

One evening the entire crew were in the communal area celebrating Bepo’s birthday with a lot of drink and laughter. You called it quits after a round of a drinking game was finished and moved cautiously to the closest sofa for safety, knowing that you were less than graceful when you’d been drinking and the last thing you wanted was to injure yourself and disrupt the festivities. Law smiled down at you as you slumped into the space beside him, resting your head lazily on his shoulder. While he hadn’t been actively playing with the game he had been steadily drinking and was at the same level you were. “Sure you didn’t want to play to the end?” He asked curiously.

“Nah, another round and I’d have been passed out.” You mumbled, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. A slow content smile spreading across your lips when Law also moved to accommodate you, his hand curving around your waist so you slotted better against him. Neither of you paying much mind to the position from both the alcohol in your systems and the natural feeling that overcame you both to be seated like this. As you both continued to watch and laugh at the antics of the crew who were still conscious and playing their game, your hand rested over his, your fingers absently looping around his. 

Occasionally through the remainder of the night Law would subconsciously play with your fingers that were looped through his, he only became aware that he was doing it when it was finally time to go to bed. When your hands parted and you reluctantly shifted your weight off of him to stand you both became acutely aware of the lingering sensation of each other’s warmth and touch still clinging to your skin. The walk to your own room was a hazy blink but as you settled into your bed, you couldn’t help but touch your hand, doing all you could to memorise the feeling of his touch as you fell asleep. 

The next morning you woke feeling a strange kind of weight on your shoulders and mind that had nothing to do with all that you’d drank the previous night. It was a good thing you knew your limits with alcohol so you could wake relatively hangover free, still a little stiff and dehydrated but nothing that would leave you bedridden all day. No this feeling was the awareness of how you felt with Law and being in his presence brought you. The more you thought about it the more you saw that you’d felt this way for the longest time, you just hadn’t truly brought it to the forefront of your attention before. 

You got out of bed and readied yourself for a new day, grateful that it would be a day of minimal tasks and filled with a lot of free time given how heavily the crew had been drinking for Bepo’s

birthday which meant you had the time to organise your feelings and adequately deal with things between you and your Captain. You were also grateful that the abundance of hungover crew meant you would have extra privacy in case things weren’t resolved amicably. You walked down the corridor and stopped outside of Law’s office. Regardless of the previous night’s party he was always here first thing in the morning without fail. As always you knocked once out of courtesy and entered, closing the door firmly behind you. When you met his gaze you felt yourself freeze. You could see the realisation and hesitation you were feeling mirrored in his eyes. As comforting as that should have been you still couldn’t bring yourself to move closer or speak. 

“About last night.” “We should talk.” You both spoke in unison, a hurried mess coming from both of your mouths as opposed to your usual calm and relaxed way of speaking around the other. You fidgeted where you stood and gestured for him to speak first while clearing your throat. Law watched you carefully and let out a long sigh, noting how tense you stood and how you kept looking into his eyes and dropping your gaze again only to repeat the action less than a second later. Were you only trying to maintain eye-contact with him out of respect but failed to do so because of shame? Was it regret? He knew how he felt but the last thing he wanted was to force something on you. “Last night I overstepped the mark. Yes we’d been drinking but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Oh…” You were taken by surprise by his somewhat stilted declaration. Had you misread things? You hadn’t thought so. Now you were even more confused and found disappointment spinning in your stomach, the feeling only furthering your awareness that you had genuine feelings for Law. You weren’t known to be insubordinate but today you felt like pushing things because his statement truly didn’t seem like the man you thought you knew. “Captain, you held my hand and I returned the gesture. That’s not overstepping the mark. That’s barely walking in the mark’s direction… Do you regret doing it?” As you spoke you couldn’t help but run your thumb over your fingers that had been in his hold mere hours ago. “Because I don’t.”

“Regardless…It’s unwise to further this topic.” Law tried to sound firm but he was honestly thrown, he hadn’t been expecting you to feel the same as he did but he’d spent all last night and this morning trying to convince himself his feelings were one-sided and that it was fine that way because he shouldn’t pursue a relationship with a member of his crew. He wasn’t one to get his hopes up and at the same time he was also one to deny himself of something that made him happy to prevent the pain of losing it in the future. “We would be better to leave things as they are before they escalate.”

“Does that mean you want things to escalate?” You asked coyly finally taking a step towards the desk he sat at. 

“It wouldn’t be right for me to start something with my subordinate.” Law offered the argument, not able to give much weight to his words as he openly watched you approach, giving no inclination for you to stop or to leave. You both knew that had he wanted you out of his presence he would have either ordered you away or used his Devil Fruit to accomplish the task himself. 

“Captain, we’re pirates. What’s right and wrong and rules don’t exactly apply to us. Do they?” You asked simply, keeping the desk separating you both to allow him his personal space as you smiled at him. “All that matters is what we want. I’ve been honest, will you be honest with me, Captain?”  

Law stood and braced his hands on the desk, beginning to close the distance between you both. You’d made convincing points and deep down he hadn’t wanted to find a way to argue against them, not when it came to you and the feelings he’d finally accepted to himself that had been there for a very long time. “Are you sure about this?” He asked, offering you one final chance to take it back because he knew once this started he wasn’t going to let you go. Your answer was a simple one, you leant in with a smile and curled your fingers around his that were braced against the surface of the desk. The wordless but deep connection you had with each other was reestablished and cemented even further as you leant in, able to share a soft and tender kiss with your Captain. However the moment couldn’t be savoured for long because within seconds the chorus of calls echoed through the Polar Tang as the rest of the crew had awoken and were suffering their hangovers and calling for their Captain to help them cure it.

[emotional-piece-of-meat]

Since all batfam members struggle with the chronic “face with subtitles” case, I wanna rank them, depending on how frequently and demonstratively they use it.

10. Alfred: a raised eyebrow for all occasions conveys the whole range of emotions. Nobody knows whether a blank expression is a consequence of his personality or professional deformation, and they all are too scared to ask.

9. Bruce: this autistic blob cannot express his emotions through his face for his dear life. He surely overplays as Brucie, don't get me wrong he is good at masking, but naturally he is not really expressive.

8. Cass: uses her body language to communicate, so she can express emotions though her face pretty well. However, she is really out of touch with her feelings so most of the time she feels “nothing”, so she just copies whatever her siblings do.

7. Tim: has a pretty narrow range of emotions he shows, usually annoyance and disappointment. Specifically makes himself extremely hard to read due to upbringing and circumstances, even though he can be a diva or at least play one.

6. Barbara: has a professional side eye, but mostly keeps her emotions to herself. She differs from the rest of batfam in the superpower to convey her feelings with words through her mouth, so she does not use her face much for communication.

5. Jason: was more expressive as a child, now hides most of his positive emotions. However, he is very demonstrative with the negative: he thinks you are shit and he is not ashamed to show you that, furthermore he will make sure you know that.

4. Dick: the boy was taken out of the circus, but the circus could not be taken out of the boy, and now it is everyone else's problem. He is fully able to control his facial expressions, but it is so much funnier when he doesn't, so he chooses to be happy.

3. Damian: thinks he is extremely good at hiding his true feelings, maybe even as good as his father or grandfather, but actually he is not. He is a child after all, and children tends to be easy to read, but he keeps to stubbornly deny his involvement with children and people with emotions.

2. Steph: she does it on purpose purely for shits and giggles, because being annoying is a defence mechanism at this point. Naturally, her face is expressive but not that expressive, she often exaggerates it just to mess with people.

1. Duke: these are not subtitles, this is a one-man show, and you'd better watch carefully. He puts his whole soul into this performance, the range of emotions he demonstrates through his face is so wide, it's not a simple comment, it's a whole ass essay.

[blainesebastian]

clingy

words: 2,009 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (anon request) “what about austin with someone even touchier than him. maybe fans start saying she’s always clinging on him so she gets self conscious in public but austin notices right away” warnings: none notes: prompt just slightly different from request-- this can be read in tandem with ‘touch’ but isn’t necessary. requests are back open for now :) thanks to anyone who's left me one! appreciate it xx tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylespresleyhearted

Frowning at a few candid photos posted on Instagram, you scroll through the comments. You usually don't allow yourself to go down this rabbit hole because it shouldn't (and doesn't) matter what people think about you and Austin. No one is in this relationship except the two of you, you know that's the only thing that matters...and yet, these comments are burning into your eyes and imprinting on the back of your mind. It's mostly because it's spiteful, they're not fooling you on that, but that doesn't make them any easier to read.

There's a set of photos of you and Austin at a cafe last week that had a patio, enjoying the pleasant weather while you could. Austin is seated in one of the chairs, a pair of sunglasses and a ballcap on as he drinks his iced coffee. You're standing between his legs in the first photo and then you're sitting in his lap the second. Not that you need to justify this to anyone, but the patio was practically empty and you weren't disturbing anyone's afternoon. It's not like you were making out or somehow making this interaction obscene. You're typically seated on Austin's lap, it's so automatic at this point that he'll often find your hand and tug you to sit down on him—zero complaints.

Regardless that these strangers are not entitled to any background information, you know that might change a few people's opinions as they spit out nasty comments.

elvislover: you can tell he's super uncomfortable—like, yikes ericatownton: she literally does not give him a moment to breathe austinfan: #clingyaintcute

There are some bright spots,

austin345: can some of ya'll mind your own business? austin looks so happy in these? i don't get some of these comments shannonhyat: they're so cute! wish i could sit on austin like that, ngl eyeswithwonder: find yourself a man who looks at you like austin looks at Y/N—like she's hung the moon bro

but sometimes those aren't enough.

You've always been the touchy type—ever since your first boyfriend, but maybe it's gone beyond that, you've reached out and squeezed someone's arm while laughing, you're easy to hug to express emotion, and God, definitely super cuddly when you get a bit drunk. People who have never been your friends have called you a flirt or, just like the comments you're seeing, clingy...but you've never really found anything wrong with it. It's one of your love languages, how you best convey how you're feeling—and it's not like Austin isn't the same way.

He's big on touch, ever since you've known him, even when you two were just friends. Always with the hands on your hips, your waist, your lower back, fingers through your hair or playfully gripping your chin or absentminded centers of connection, knees against knees, shin along shin, shoulders brushing. He's never been shy about it...so why all of a sudden do you feel like you need to be?

You have no idea why you’re letting this bother you—Austin has never said anything that’s hinted that he’s uncomfortable, and you know he’d tell you. You really hate that this has gotten so underneath your skin.

You debate on whether you want to mention something to Austin or not, maybe talk about it or just…ask if there’s any merit in thinking you’re too clingy, if you should back off a little? But you never manage to get the words out of your mouth.

Setting your phone face down, you look up as Austin comes in from a night out with some cast members. He had asked originally asked if you wanted to join but you had dinner with your agent that you couldn’t miss (because it’d already been rescheduled twice).

“Hi,” He says warmly and walks over to where you’re seated on one of the stools at the island table. You hum as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, slow and intimate, body heat rolling off his skin.

He smells like cologne and just a twinge of cigarette smoke, alcohol, intoxicating in a way it probably shouldn’t be. You find yourself closing your eyes as he leans a bit against you, not drunk but definitely tipsy, a lazy smile on his face as he pulls back. You smirk, reaching up to thread your fingers through his wild curls.

“Have a good time?”

“Would have been better with you,” He replies matter-of-factly, slipping his jacket off and setting it on one of the other stools. Austin clears his throat, getting a good look at you for a moment and pauses, “You alright?”

He knows you, lifts his hand to curl his pointer finger and brush it across the crinkling of your skin between your eyebrows. Far too well.

This could be your moment but…it feels foolish to mention it. Not only because Austin’s a bit inebriated and it wouldn’t be right to draw him into this conversation, but because the longer you sit with these thoughts, the more silly they feel. Right?  

“Yeah,” You lie through your teeth, giving him a soft smile. “M’just tired, got a headache.”

He hums lightly, moving to press a long kiss to your forehead. “I can make you some tea.”

You let out a laugh which is mostly air leaving your nose, “You are swaying on your feet,” You cup his cheek, amused and fond, “Shouldn’t I be taking care of you?” You lean up to press a kiss to the bridge of his nose.

He crinkles it but smiles down at you, “What’d you have in mind?”

You playfully tap his cheek, “Bed—maybe a shower.”

Austin purses his lips, seemingly in thought for a moment before he nods—and then ever so quickly scoops you up into his arms. It’s haphazard and ridiculous and you can’t help but laugh as he carries you towards the bathroom,

“Hey! I didn’t mean with me.” And you can’t stop yourself from laughing, Austin teasingly grabbing at your ass. He barely turns the water to the shower on before he sets you down, drawing you into a kiss.

--

It’s been a relatively lazy day which you’ve seriously come to appreciate, it’s not often that you get many of them to spare. You’ve spent the morning with Austin browsing a large farmer’s market, deciding on fresh fruit and vegetables and handmade products that you probably don’t need but are indulging on. It’s fun, calming—it’s in moments like these where you can kinda forget how crazy your day to day lives can be. There’s comfort in that normalcy together.

You decide to go to the same bistro on the corner from your apartment for lunch, a place that you both have been before countless times because of the great food and rich coffee. Not to mention that you’re slightly obsessed with the beautiful patio outside that’s perfect for a little fresh air and spots of sun. It fills up fast but this is where it pays to be a bit of a celebrity—when Austin calls ahead, they make a table up for him, no matter how busy they are.

Can’t deny that you kinda love that perk as you pick at some fries on your plate next to a finished sandwich, full and content, legs under the table pressing into Austin’s as he talks about his upcoming project. You can’t help but smile as he talks with his hands, animated, excited for what’s to come because he deserves every single moment of it.

There are small moments of enjoyable silence, just sitting in one another's company, the hand that's not eating fries sitting loosely on the table. Austin's hand finds yours automatically, something so automatic that it makes your stomach do a complete flip. Your eyes glance down to the rings on his slender fingers, running along yours, squeezing every so often. A small smile tugs the corners of your mouth and you pick up your iced coffee to take a sip.

"Today was pretty great," You comment after the breeze picks up and flutters your hair. You run your fingers through it, adjusting sunglasses on your face.

"It was," Austin agrees, running his thumb along your knuckles, "You regret that we don't always have time for it?"

You give him a small smile, shaking your head, "No, course not. Just makes it that much more special when we do."

Austin hums, lifting your hand to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist. He then tugs, encouraging you to stand, and you already know where this is going before it happens. This is something you do all the time—you share food or coffee together and find yourself on Austin's lap. Even on this crowded patio, you're tucked into one of the end corners near the lines of bushes for a bit of privacy, your stomach clenches with nerves in a way it's never done before. You can't help but think about all those stupid comments, burning letters into the back of your vision.

You completely tense up, freeze in spot.

Austin notices automatically, of course, his eyebrows drawing together in soft confusion as he looks up at you, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," You reply, too quickly, shaking your head--he can read right through you, Austin's always been good at that.

He lets out a soft sigh out of his nose, holding your gaze for a long moment, blue eyes boring into yours. And yet, you can't seem to move. Curling your hair around your ear, you glance at the other tables, expecting to see eyes on you, maybe people taking candid photos to appear online later...and yet there's nothing. Of course there's nothing.

"You're shaking," He replies gently, standing now from his chair. He runs both of his hands down your arms, squeezing, “What’s goin’ on?”

You almost want to brush it aside but Austin’s locked in now, he’s not going to let you. So you briefly roll your eyes towards the sky, a shaky laugh following, “You’re gonna think it’s ridiculous.”

“I doubt it.” He encourages.

Chewing on your lower lip, you give a soft nod, “Uhm—do you…do you think I’m clingy? Like, as a girlfriend?”

His eyebrows draw together in confusion, unsure of how you’re topic jumping to this and it looks like he might want to smirk but doesn’t because he can tell you’re upset. “I think…both of us enjoy attention through touch, there’s nothin’ wrong with that though. Doesn’t make you clingy.”

He keeps your gazes connected, making sure you hear him, that the words register and you find yourself nodding once. The ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth and Austin cups your cheek, shifting you into a kiss that lasts a good handful of moments. You know he’s doing it on purpose too, keeping you close, drawing it out.

When he pulls back, he playfully nips at your lower lip, making your smile much more genuine, “And don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”

You hum in acknowledgement because Austin knows, of course he knows where you were coming from. You’re not sure whether that means he’s been on social media too or can just sense it—you’ve talked about pap photos before, candids posted by fans. It’s never really bothered you until now. It means a lot that he sees you, without having to explain or justify how you feel. You definitely love him for that.

“Now,” Austin says, sitting back down in his chair, “C’mere.” He motions towards himself with his fingers.

You can’t help but laugh warmly, taking Austin’s hand and allowing him to tug you over to him. Sitting down on his lap, perched on his one leg like it’s the simplest thing in the world, you lean your shoulder against his chest. He smiles up at you, hooking a finger underneath your chin to draw you into a kiss. It’s slow and sweet, no cares in the world—especially for anyone who might be looking.

[lowkeyrobin]

Helloo, I was wondering if you could do MCYT with selective mutism? (ADHD reader heher) it mostly when happens when reader is overstimulated (Ie, a live concert or sm) and sometimes when readers battery is fucking drained completely they just fall asleep on MCYTs shoulder or sm? Thanks!!

oooo yes I relate to this sm ejmekekend ; thank you for requesting!

MCYT ; selective mutism

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, & quackity

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

you guys go to a blink-182 concert

it was so fun yet so loud and crowded

by the time you got to the car, you'd decided, since being so overstimulated, to just shut down talking for a while

he's completely used to you going selectively mute, and knows a little sign language for you and has a notepad and pen in his center console for you

he still upholds conversation on the way home, but lets you stay quiet

you eventually fall asleep and he carries you inside bridal style lmfao

posts a pic of you on snap with the caption "their social battery died. L"

RANBOO

you went to a concert

you were in the pit so you were literally shoulder to shoulder with hundreds of strangers

very overstimulating

once you leave you're clung onto him

you're clearly very tired and the second he grabbed your hand to work your way through the crowd, dead silence

once you got into the car, safe and secure from people, you just kinda sat there in silence

ran instantly knew your social battery was dead because it was pretty common after concerts and live events

he's able to understand sign just for you

they're probably able to carry you inside after you fell asleep considering they're easily able to carry other friends

if you need any fidget toys or anything to help you decompress, they have them dw

they're so understanding and respectful about it 🫶💔

FREDDIE BADLINU

you just had a long ass day

social battery was at a zero and you went mute hours ago

you come home, lay down, and just won't talk

he gets the memo, dw

he's open to listening if you wanna talk or even type it out, but he rants about his day because it makes you feel a little better about yourself

runs you a nice, relaxing, warm bath and allows you to decompress and relax for a while

and after that you basically fall asleep on hjm

he just peacefully holds you and hopes you're feeling a little bit better now

he'll do anything just to not make you feel a negative emotion

especially since you get overstimulated and go selectively mute because you feel like you'll puke or the words won't come out right

he doesn't know what it's like but considering he's seen it a lot from you, he sympathizes a lot and allows you to convey what you want, how you want because obviously, your brain works much different than his and he gets that

NIKI NIHACHU

you were quickly overstimulated by the loud music in a club that you went to with her

you went out for a friend's birthday and quickly retreated outside

the party scene is definitely not for you

she notices you're missing and quickly finds you, and understands that you're overstimulated and mute for the moment

she had a tangle fidget (like the ones that twist forever and ever) laying in her pocket and gave it to you in hopes itd help you decompress

she immediately takes you home after telling the friend to enjoy their night and informing them you needed to go home

almost instantly you passed out once you hit the bed LMFAO

she'll sit there and rub your temples and stroke your hair until you're definitely asleep

she 100% gets it, and will always comfort you and make sure you're okay

ALEX QUACKITY

the streamer awards were obviously very overstimulating

you were quiet most the night, from the recording and everyone looking at you guys to the anxiety and anticipation? nah bruh

once you got back to the car with Alex, Cellbit, Niki, Tina, and Foolish, you instantly just sat back and a weight was just lifted from your shoulders

you didn't have to talk to anyone or let anyone take pictures of you or record you anymore and it felt good

although he noticed, and confirmed you were just drained and tired and wanted alone time

he gave you his phone to play games on (like you're a little toddler or something) (your phone died an hour ago) and left you to do your thing while Foolish drove you guys home

halfway there you gave his phone back and fell asleep on him

"guys, quiet down a bit, they fell asleep"

takes a picture on snap and captions it "bro you didn't even win anything. What're you tired for???" as a joke

[ms-snape]

Hey, can I request a young sirius x reader where he have a crush on her but he' mostly used to flirt with the girls and have he watts but the reader isn't like that and she keeps rejecting him....it' okay if you don't...I Just love your writing♡

Title: Not like others

Warning: flirt sirius

Word Count: 2500+

Masterlist

---

The sun hung low over Hogwarts, casting a golden hue across the grounds, illuminating the ancient stone and sprawling greenery. The Great Lake shimmered under the afternoon light, rippling gently with the whispers of the breeze. Laughter echoed from the Gryffindor common room, where the Marauders had congregated, their typical banter filling the air.

Sirius Black lounged comfortably on the plush armchair, his signature smirk in place as he flirted effortlessly with a group of girls who hung on his every word. He thrived in the attention, relishing the playful banter and the easy confidence that came from being the center of attraction. Yet, amidst the laughter and lighthearted jests, his thoughts drifted. They wandered to her—Y/n, the girl who had somehow breached the fortress of his heart.

Y/n sat nearby, engaged in conversation with Lily and James, her laughter ringing like a melody that captivated him. She was stunning, her features a blend of innocence and strength, but what truly drew him in were her eyes—deep and expressive, reflecting a world of thoughts and emotions. Yet, despite his heart racing at her presence, Sirius struggled with the way he felt about her.

He had always been a flirt, weaving through relationships like a butterfly, leaving behind a trail of admirers and broken hearts. But with Y/n, it was different. She wasn’t just another girl; she had become a secret treasure, something worth cherishing, yet he couldn’t find the words to convey his feelings. Instead, he resorted to his old ways, flirtation pouring from his lips like honey, masking the deeper emotions brewing within him.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he drawled, leaning back with that familiar, devil-may-care attitude as he aimed his attention at Y/n. She glanced up, momentarily meeting his gaze, and the light in her eyes dimmed slightly. It was a subtle shift, barely noticeable, yet it cut through him like a knife.

“Do you need help with your Charms essay?” she asked, a faint smile touching her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Only if you promise to help me pass,” he teased, casting her a roguish grin. His heart sank as he noticed her forced smile.

Y/n turned her attention back to Lily, dismissing him without another glance. It stung more than he anticipated. The fleeting moments where they would steal glances at each other were now replaced with a growing distance. Confusion gnawed at him; he could see the hurt in her expression, but he didn't know how to bridge the gap he had unintentionally created.

As days passed, the pattern continued. Sirius would flirt and charm, drawing laughter from those around him, but Y/n remained distant. She spent time with Lily, her laughter still ringing, but it was tinged with an undertone of sadness that tugged at Sirius’s heartstrings.

It was during a quiet evening in the common room that Remus noticed the shift in atmosphere. Sirius sat across from him, a frown creasing his forehead as he stared into the flickering flames of the fireplace.

“Mate, what’s up with you?” Remus asked, concern lacing his voice.

Sirius sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. “It’s Y/n. I can’t seem to reach her. Every time I flirt with her, it’s like I’m pushing her away.”

“Have you considered that maybe she sees you as just another fling?” Remus mused, his brow furrowing in thought. “You’re known for your charm, Sirius. She might think you want her for all the wrong reasons.”

“I don’t!” Sirius exclaimed, frustration leaking through his tone. “I like her, Remus. I genuinely like her. But every time I try to show it, I just end up making things worse.”

Remus leaned back, crossing his arms as he regarded his friend. “Maybe you need to try something different. Show her you care without the flirtation. Get her flowers or something.”

“Flowers?” Sirius echoed, incredulous. “I’m not some lovesick puppy!”

“Right, but if you want her to believe that you’re serious about your feelings, you have to show her. She’s not going to believe it if you keep playing the same game,” Remus replied, his voice calm but firm.

Sirius mulled over Remus’s words. It felt utterly foreign to him—this idea of soft gestures and vulnerability. But if it meant winning Y/n’s heart, he was willing to try. He just had to learn how to break through the walls he’d unintentionally built around her heart.

The next morning, Sirius made a plan. He found himself wandering through the Hogwarts grounds, heading towards the greenhouses. The vibrant flowers swayed in the gentle breeze, each petal whispering promises of beauty. He approached a cluster of blooming daisies and picked a small bouquet, the innocent blooms representing the simplicity of his growing affection for Y/n.

Clutching the flowers tightly, he made his way back to the Gryffindor common room. His heart raced with uncertainty, thoughts swirling in his mind. Would this be enough to prove to Y/n that he was different? That he wanted more than just a fleeting moment?

When he entered the common room, Y/n was sitting by the window, her gaze lost in the distance. The sunlight caught her hair, making it glow, and for a moment, Sirius simply stood there, captivated. Taking a deep breath, he approached her, forcing down the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him.

“Y/n?” he said softly, and she turned to him, surprise flickering in her eyes.

“What’s this?” she asked, glancing at the flowers in his hand.

“Um, they’re for you,” he stammered, the words tumbling out awkwardly.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “For me?”

“Yeah. I thought… I thought maybe you’d like them,” he said, extending the bouquet toward her.

She hesitated, her gaze shifting from the flowers to his face, searching for something deeper. “Why, Sirius?”

“Because I like you,” he replied, his heart pounding. “Not just as a flirtation or a game. I care about you, Y/n.”

Her expression remained guarded, doubt clouding her features. “You say that now, but you’ve always been a flirt. How am I supposed to believe you?”

The sting of her words hit hard. “Because I wouldn’t do this for anyone else. I’m not trying to play you, I promise.”

Y/n reached out, tentatively accepting the flowers, but the uncertainty in her eyes lingered. “I just… I don’t want to be another one of your flings, Sirius. I’m not like the others.”

“I don’t want that either,” he insisted, his voice earnest. “I’m trying to show you that I’m serious about us. I want to be more than just a passing moment.”

For a brief moment, hope flickered in her eyes before it dimmed again. “It’s hard to believe that when you’ve built your reputation on charm.”

Sirius felt a wave of frustration wash over him, but he held it back, knowing it wouldn’t help his case. Instead, he thought of Remus and his advice. “Give me a chance to prove it. Let me show you how I feel.”

As the days rolled by, Sirius embraced the challenge. With Remus’s guidance, he began to shower Y/n with small, thoughtful gestures. He’d leave her little notes hidden in her books, the words carefully chosen to reflect his growing feelings. He surprised her with her favorite sweets from Honeydukes, savoring the way her eyes lit up with joy each time.

“Honestly, Sirius,” she said one evening, glancing at the assortment of chocolates he’d brought her. “You’re being way too nice.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he replied, a teasing lilt in his voice, but his heart raced with nervous energy. “I just want to show you I’m serious about this.”

Y/n took a deep breath, her defenses slowly crumbling as she began to see the sincerity in his actions. “You’re really trying, aren’t you?”

“Every day,” he admitted, the weight of his feelings resting heavily in the air between them. “I just want you to see that I’m different. That I care about you, not just as a flirt but as someone I want in my life.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her expression softening. “It’s hard to let go of my doubts, Sirius. I’ve seen how you are with other girls. It’s difficult to reconcile that with how you are with me.”

Sirius nodded, understanding her struggle. “I know I have a reputation, but I promise you—what I feel for you is real. It scares me, to be honest, but it’s the truth.”

Their conversations continued, each interaction building a bridge between them, and slowly, the walls Y/n had erected began to crumble. She’d catch glimpses of his true self—the gentle side that cared deeply, and with every small act, he felt himself falling further into the depths of his feelings.

One evening, as the Marauders gathered in their usual spot in the common room, Sirius couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/n. She was sitting with Lily, sharing a laugh over some inside joke, the sound of her happiness wrapping around him like a warm blanket. It was a comforting sight, yet a pang of longing tightened in his chest.

“Alright, Padfoot,” James said, nudging him. “You’re practically drooling over there. Just go talk to her!”

“Yeah, before she gets snatched up by someone else,” Remus chimed in, a teasing smile gracing his lips.

“I’m trying!” Sirius retorted, but a nervous energy buzzed within him. “I just… want to make sure I don’t mess this up.”

“Just be honest,” James advised, his tone turning serious. “You’ve been making progress. Show her that you’re genuine.”

With that, Sirius rose, his heart pounding as he crossed the room. Y/n looked up as he approached, her expression shifting from surprise to curiosity.

“Hey, can I borrow you for a minute?” he asked, a hint of nervousness coloring his voice.

“Sure,” she replied, her smile encouraging.

He led her to a quieter corner of the common room, the soft glow of the fire casting gentle shadows around them. “I just wanted to talk to you… away from everyone else,” he said, his throat tightening.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked, her voice gentle.

“I know I’ve messed up in the past,” he began, his heart racing. “And I know it’s hard for you to see me as anything more than a flirt. But the truth is, you mean more to me than I can put into words. I’m falling for you, Y/n, and I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

Her eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. “You’re serious?”

“Yes,” he affirmed, stepping closer, his gaze unwavering. “I know it’s scary and uncertain, but I want to give us a chance. You’re not just another girl to me. You’re special.”

Y/n’s expression softened, a mix of vulnerability and hope reflecting in her eyes. “I want to believe you, Sirius, but it’s hard.”

“I understand,” he replied, reaching out to gently take her hand. “But I promise, I’ll show you. Just give me a chance.”

Tension hung in the air as they stood together, hearts racing in sync. For a brief moment, it felt like the world had faded away, leaving just the two of them amidst the crackling warmth of the fire.

As days turned into weeks, Sirius continued to prove himself, each gesture a step closer to Y/n’s heart. They studied together, shared secrets, and laughed late into the night, the connection between them growing deeper. Y/n began to let her guard down, her laughter becoming more genuine, the warmth of their interactions melting away her reservations.

One evening, while sitting under the stars on the castle grounds, Y/n turned to Sirius, her expression thoughtful. “You’ve really changed, you know. I’ve never seen this side of you before.”

Sirius chuckled softly, a warm smile playing on his lips. “It’s all your fault, really. You make me want to be better.”

Y/n laughed, the sound light and free, and it filled him with joy. “I’m glad. I really am.”

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his tone shifting as he searched for the right words. “About how I feel. I mean, it’s not just about flirting anymore. I want to be with you, for real.”

Y/n’s breath caught, surprise dancing in her eyes. “Sirius… do you mean it?”

“Every word,” he declared, leaning in closer, vulnerability evident in his gaze. “I want you in my life, not just as a fleeting moment but as something lasting.”

A smile broke across her face, illuminating the shadows of doubt that had lingered for so long. “I believe you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft rustle of leaves.

Sirius felt a warmth spread through him at her words, a sense of relief washing over him. “Really?”

“Yeah, I do,” she replied, her eyes shining with sincerity. “I think I’m starting to see the real you beneath all that charm.”

Their gazes locked, and in that moment, everything shifted. The air crackled with unspoken feelings, and Sirius leaned in, his heart pounding with anticipation. The distance between them vanished as their lips met in a tender kiss, a sweet culmination of everything they had built together.

As the weeks continued to unfold, the Marauders witnessed the transformation in their friend. Sirius was no longer the carefree flirt, but rather a young man in love, navigating the complexities of his newfound feelings. Y/n brought out the best in him, and he reveled in the joy of being with her.

One day, as they sat in the common room surrounded by their friends, Y/n leaned into Sirius, her head resting on his shoulder. “You know, I never thought I’d find someone like you,” she murmured softly.

Sirius smiled, wrapping his arm around her, pulling her closer. “And I never thought I’d want someone so much,” he admitted, a hint of awe in his voice.

Their friends watched the exchange with knowing smiles, the atmosphere in the room warm and filled with laughter. The Marauders shared their own banter, but the love blossoming between Sirius and Y/n was undeniable, a testament to the power of genuine affection.

With every passing day, Sirius found himself more entrenched in his feelings, each moment shared with Y/n reinforcing his belief that love could exist beyond mere flirtation. And as they continued to grow together, he realized that beneath the charm and bravado lay a heart yearning for connection—one that had finally found its match.

Their journey was just beginning, but the road ahead shimmered with promise, illuminated by the light of their love—a bond forged through laughter, understanding, and the unbreakable connection that comes from truly knowing one another.

In the depths of his heart, Sirius Black understood that this was no longer just a game; it was real, and he was ready to embrace it fully.

As the stars twinkled above them, Sirius squeezed Y/n's hand, feeling her warmth beside him. Together, they stepped into a future that held countless adventures, where their love would grow, unfurling like the flowers he had once brought her—delicate yet resilient, a beautiful testament to their journey together.

[qin-qin16]

Cw: Killer x Reader, suggestive (?), but it is mostly fluff, Killer stage 2, actions against his soul (is all for science!), he kinda doesn't care though, we all like oblivious Reader… 

Notes: This was an ask for my other account, but I liked the result so much that I decided to post it here too!

Killer never thought anyone could hold his soul so gently — not after Chara’s suffocating embrace or Nightmare’s brutal treatment. 

His soul is familiar with pain, emptiness, death. But kindness? He’s never felt it — or at least, he doesn’t recall ever feeling it. His smile wavers just a bit when you softly squeeze his soul between your fingers.

“I'm sorry…” you whisper in that pretty voice of yours, but Killer isn't focused on your words, no. Instead, he's focused on your face: on your furrowed eyebrows, on the curiosity in your eyes, on the slight parting of your lips... He finds your expression quite  amusing.

Normal beings were scared, disgusted, and uncomfortable around him because of his soul — something that shouldn’t be outside his ribs, especially with its round shape and dripping. But curiosity like yours? Few possess that.

However, you weren’t just curious. You were just like him. 

You wanted to experience it; touch it, squeeze it, feel it, maybe even step on it, tear it, bite it… He’d done all of that before just to see how much his soul could endure.

He shivers again, this time because of your caress between the red circles that form his soul like a funny target. Killer can’t resist teasing you with some dreadful remarks.

"Want to taste it? Want to sink your teeth into the small circle in the middle? I promise you I wouldn’t feel a thing…" he says, his smile widening as you bring it closer to your mouth.

It’s true; even if you bit with all your strength, he wouldn’t feel a thing. Maybe he’d experience a shockwave coursing through his body, so fast that it nearly turns him to dust. But that’s just a physical reaction — emotional responses? Killer doesn’t experience those. He doesn’t need to.

.

.

.

You kissed it. 

You gently press your lips to his soul in a single, careful kiss. No one has ever done this before, and the results are fascinating. 

Killer's bones tremble against each other as his magic makes beads of sweat form on his body. He can feel himself panting from the intense wave that washes over him, but it’s not a wave of shock or pain.

It was something warm, like a gentle breeze on a summer day. Perhaps your intention was conveyed through the kiss — passing into his soul and through his being like a Cupid’s arrow. He can feel kindness, concern, curiosity, and bravery. Were you… feeling all of that just from holding his soul?

When he looks at you, Killer almost instantly notices the new color on your lips: a bright, vibrant red — his determination now adorned on your lips like some kind of lip gloss. He also notices the same color on your hands.

His soul continues to drip, tainting everything around it — including you and the floor. Its shape begins to deform, the sides quivering and stretching. 

You lick your lips before humming as you taste it. It seems you enjoy the flavor of his soul.

"I thought it would have a specific flavor, but it tastes like... I don’t know, something bitter? It’s sweet too, but essentially bitter." You begin to lick your fingers as you savor it, "It’s not bad — really, it’s not bad at all."

Killer feels his eye sockets quiver and his black tears stop falling. He hasn’t stopped panting yet, and red sweat still drips from his forehead.

“It’s not poisoning, right? I should have asked before– I didn’t know you had any light in your eye.” You said, surprised, your eyes now fixed on him.

He, as surprised as you, glances down at his soul, seeing it in an upside-down heart shape. Killer laughs bitterly, feeling a strange, tingling sensation in his bones as he meets your gaze. He can also feel his cheekbones flushing from how intently you are observing him.

“Heh, neither did I.” Despite his nonchalant tone, you notice his tail giving a little wag. He is clearly pleased with the results of your test with his soul.

“Can I bite it now?”

“No.” He cuts you off. If your gentle kiss had such an impact on him, he doesn’t want to imagine what a bite would do — at least not in his current state.

“Just a little nibble?”

“Sorry, kid, not this time~”

[qininqinin]

If it's not a big ask then, could you do something Killer and his soul related however you want to interpret that. Fine if you don't wanna huhu... (⁠´⁠∩⁠｡⁠•⁠ ⁠ᵕ⁠ ⁠•⁠｡⁠∩⁠`⁠) shahssjsjs

Bloody kiss

Cw: Killer x Reader, suggestive (?), but it is mostly fluff, Killer stage 2, actions against his soul (is all for science!), he kinda doesn't care though, we all like oblivious Reader… 

Notes: Yay another work about Killer! I'm going to post it in my other account too because this is so good.

Killer never thought anyone could hold his soul so gently — not after Chara’s suffocating embrace or Nightmare’s brutal treatment. 

His soul is familiar with pain, emptiness, death. But kindness? He’s never felt it — or at least, he doesn’t recall ever feeling it. His smile wavers just a bit when you softly squeeze his soul between your fingers.

“I'm sorry…” you whisper in that pretty voice of yours, but Killer isn't focused on your words, no. Instead, he's focused on your face: on your furrowed eyebrows, on the curiosity in your eyes, on the slight parting of your lips... He finds your expression quite  amusing.

Normal beings were scared, disgusted, and uncomfortable around him because of his soul — something that shouldn’t be outside his ribs, especially with its round shape and dripping. But curiosity like yours? Few possess that.

However, you weren’t just curious. You were just like him. 

You wanted to experience it; touch it, squeeze it, feel it, maybe even step on it, tear it, bite it… He’d done all of that before just to see how much his soul could endure.

He shivers again, this time because of your caress between the red circles that form his soul like a funny target. Killer can’t resist teasing you with some dreadful remarks.

"Want to taste it? Want to sink your teeth into the small circle in the middle? I promise you I wouldn’t feel a thing…" he says, his smile widening as you bring it closer to your mouth.

It’s true; even if you bit with all your strength, he wouldn’t feel a thing. Maybe he’d experience a shockwave coursing through his body, so fast that it nearly turns him to dust. But that’s just a physical reaction — emotional responses? Killer doesn’t experience those. He doesn’t need to.

.

.

.

You kissed it. 

You gently press your lips to his soul in a single, careful kiss. No one has ever done this before, and the results are fascinating. 

Killer's bones tremble against each other as his magic makes beads of sweat form on his body. He can feel himself panting from the intense wave that washes over him, but it’s not a wave of shock or pain.

It was something warm, like a gentle breeze on a summer day. Perhaps your intention was conveyed through the kiss — passing into his soul and through his being like a Cupid’s arrow. He can feel kindness, concern, curiosity, and bravery. Were you… feeling all of that just from holding his soul?

When he looks at you, Killer almost instantly notices the new color on your lips: a bright, vibrant red — his determination now adorned on your lips like some kind of lip gloss. He also notices the same color on your hands.

His soul continues to drip, tainting everything around it — including you and the floor. Its shape begins to deform, the sides quivering and stretching. 

You lick your lips before humming as you taste it. It seems you enjoy the flavor of his soul.

"I thought it would have a specific flavor, but it tastes like... I don’t know, something bitter? It’s sweet too, but essentially bitter." You begin to lick your fingers as you savor it, "It’s not bad — really, it’s not bad at all."

Killer feels his eye sockets quiver and his black tears stop falling. He hasn’t stopped panting yet, and red sweat still drips from his forehead.

“It’s not poisoning, right? I should have asked before– I didn’t know you had any light in your eyes.” You said, surprised, your eyes now fixed on him.

He, as surprised as you, glances down at his soul, seeing it in an upside-down heart shape. Killer laughs bitterly, feeling a strange, tingling sensation in his bones as he meets your gaze. He can also feel his cheekbones flushing from how intently you are observing him.

“Heh, neither did I.” Despite his nonchalant tone, you notice his tail giving a little wag. He is clearly pleased with the results of your test with his soul.

“Can I bite it now?”

“No.” He cuts you off. If your gentle kiss had such an impact on him, he doesn’t want to imagine what a bite would do — at least not in his current state.

“Just a little nibble?”

“Sorry, kid, not this time~”

[ggyuha]

done talking / leon

[ summary ] : your boyfriend is always tired & stressed so frankly, a vacation isn’t too much to ask for, right? what happens though when he refuses? ( wc is 2.1k )

[ c/w ] : angry sex mostly, degradation, pet names, unprotected sex, age gap (reader is adult!), fingering, i suck with tags but that’s mostly it i think

[ note ] : hi, it’s my first official nsfw work so i know i still have ways to go before i can actually call this good but i’m sort of testing the waters, see how i would like it if i shared adult content as well hehe anyways, i hope you like it and notes & ideas are always appreciated <3

“you are so fucking unfair.”

tension hung tightly around the air, choking your love for leon out of you. but one gaze from him, holds you down—keeps you grasping at him like a lifeline.

where did that soft gaze go, though?

his eyes flickered with annoyance, burning sharp imprints on your skin. he heaved a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “we’ve talked about this,” he said in an exasperated tone.

you scoffed in response. “we?” your words were heavy, emphasising the emotion with each syllable. “leon, i never said yes to anything!” you stomped, turning your back on him as you paced angrily around the kitchen. you held your head low with one hand, the other on your hip.

he watched you with a tired look on his face, his forehead creased and eyebrows furrowed. a frown tugged at his thin lips. “okay, even if we didn’t—what are you even gonna do about it?”

you looked back at him in disbelief, eyes wide with anger, lips pursed in annoyance.

it wasn’t as if you were asking for the impossible. is a trip together too much? after all, you’ve been seeing each other for 8 months but not once, never has he taken you out for a vacation. and you don’t see the problem with taking one either, with him always looking so drained, so out of it, so stressed.

but of course, who’s leon without his stubbornness? government this, people that—it’s like he’s nothing but the embodiment of saviour complex.

“leon, i can’t do anything about it but you do. we know damn well you always find a way…” you trailed off, trying to hold back hurtful words. they slip past your lips regardless, your anger seeping out no matter how much you hold back.

“… when you want it, at least.”

he looked up at you with wide eyes, a defensive look on his face as if you just accused him of a crime. “don’t you dare play that card,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

he slammed his hands on the table, pushing the chair back so hard when he stood up, it screeched against the floor before falling backwards.

he walked towards you with angry steps, gripping the edge of your shoulders with a firm hold. “i want to be with you, i do but lives depend on this, you know that. a few moments of leisure and i’m putting others at risk. don’t you get what i’m trying to say?” he was staring at you intensely, his whole face clenched tightly as if that would hold him back from showing his true colours, his trembling anger—you knew better than that.

because it was his hands that conveyed his frustration. you didn’t like the way they seized your flesh so you wriggled, trying to break free but his grasp on you was firm.

“let go of me.” his eyes blinked, a sudden realisation washing over him. his grip loosened but he didn’t let you go just yet.

he called your name sternly, “i can’t take a vacation right now. this mission is very important to lots of people, to me. but after this…” he sighed deeply, closing his eyes briefly before gazing down at his feet.

“what? you can’t finish your words, can you?” you taunted with a pained expression, “because you know it won’t end. after this, after that! no, leon, lives will always be at risk. just admit that you have a saviour complex!”

you pushed his chest with force. he stumbled back, freeing you from his grasp.

you grabbed your bag on the kitchen chair and acted as if to walk away. “oh no, you don’t,” he grunted lowly, grabbing you by the elbow before he pinned your back against the nearest wall. you felt shock shoot through your nerves, from the spine to the back of your head.

he snatched your bag from your hand, throwing it angrily somewhere—but you heard a glass shatter—then he pinned your wrists beside you.

“don’t walk away. we’re not done yet.” he inched his face closer, baring his teeth while his eyes devoured you whole with the intense fury he felt.

“how come only you get to decide things? i’m here too, you know,” you murmured weakly, the argument taking its toll on you. “but you’re not…”

the silence hung heavy in the air, the tension crackling as a grumble resonated deep in his throat. “please don’t question my love for you,” he murmured, pinning you harder against the wall as he rested his forehead on yours.

you looked up at him and furrowed your brows. “it’s hard not to,” you whispered sternly.

before you know it, his mouth is already forcibly crashing against yours, his teeth nibbling on your lip to make you gasp and when you did, he pushed his tongue in you, exploring your mouth without restraint.

“leon—“ you tried to gasp in between the heated kiss. his hands slipped under your shirt, kneading the flesh of your hips firmly as he kissed you with so much fervour, strings of saliva dripped down both of your chin, connecting your mouths.

the discomfort creeped in when he inched his hands upwards, palming your breasts through your bra. your nerves got prickly. “leon, stop,” you grunted, clawing at his arm. his touch didn’t bring you comfort as it did before, instead the throb clashed with pleasure—the pain dominating, mostly.

leon didn’t listen, bringing his hands to undo your shirt impatiently, sucking on the skin of your neck meanwhile. he used his teeth to nibble on the sensitive spot, his tongue swirling around his love bites.

you exhaled shakily, your will crumbling down as the pleasure started to sink in and register, albeit with the lingering painful sensation.

“don’t you ever say to my face that i don’t love you,” he stated with an ardent tone, his voice low and deep.

he lifted you into his arms, pressing apologetic kisses on your cheek as he carried you into his room, gently placing you on the mattress.

he pried your legs open with one hand to make room for him. he bent forward and kissed you on the lips, his hands sliding your shirt off your shoulders. he didn’t waste time and unclasped your bra as well, palming your breasts while he pinched your perky nipples between his fingers.

“this isn’t really the time… we’re not done yet talking,” you groaned and tipped your head back against the pillow. you held onto his shoulder, your nails digging into the flesh of his shoulder as your legs quivered.

leon looked down at you sharply. “we’re done with words, princess,” he spat firmly, “we’re too mad to talk, aren’t we? it’s time to get to actions.”

“you think it’s unfair, huh? i do too, believe me if it were up to me, i’d choose you again and again over my job because truthfully, you weigh more to me than anything.”

his words blurred as he unbuttoned your jeans and palmed your pussy through your panties. feeling the damped spot, he slipped a thick finger past its waistband, the calloused tip of his finger ghosting over your clit to tease you. you whimpered at the sensation that crawled into your body. you gripped his biceps more tightly, looking at him through half-lidded eyes.

“i know i don’t deserve you but i try so fucking hard to be that one guy that’s perfect for you but god fucking damn it.”

he slowly pushed two digits past your wet folds, making you gasp. his fingers were long and thick and every time he thrusted them in and out, he’d curl the tip to press against your soft spots

he kept murmuring to you and every word that he uttered was heavy and thick with emotion but it wasn’t your fault that with every emphasis he made, he pumped his digits into you more roughly. he must’ve said something else, something about his job.

but you were feeling lightheaded.

the next thing you knew, he had already pulled your pants down along with your underwear and he’s unbuckling his pants before climbing on top of you again.

“i’ll fuck some senses into you, you whore. so fuckin’ desperate for some lovin’, y’say?”

“leon, slow—“ he pressed the tip of his cock against your slit, the sheer pressure and size sending your shiver. he’s too big, you thought, if he keeps being rough…

“fuuuuck…” you exhaled loudly with the sudden penetration, your walls painfully stretching to accommodate his size. you clawed at his back and closed your eyes, trying to divert your attention somewhere else other than the throb and sting you’re feeling down there.

he began thrusting, his hands hooked under your knees to lift them higher until they were levelled with your ears. he keeps pumping his cock in and out deeply and slowly, drawing the pleasure out of you before he’s back right in, balls deep, his hips rolling with delicious precision.

he began to pick up pace when he managed to bottoms out in you, his thick length filling you in so well that you could feel his tip slapping against your cervix.

you moaned out his name as he fucked you dumb. you couldn’t think of anything else at this point, only the sheer, raw passion he’s giving you as he kept thrusting.

“leon, leon…” you whimpered desperately. his hand left your leg to rub circles on your throbbing nub, stimulating you further. your nerves suddenly fired up, you felt tingly all over, your toes curling.

“i love you, angel,” he whispered into your ear. he easily flipped you on your stomach, lifting your ass up while your breasts and face pathetically lay flat on the mattress as he fucked you roughly from behind, groping your ass as he did so.

“fuck, so fucking tight. you like this spot, don’t you?”

your eyes rolled back and your mouth hung open, spittle dripping down your chin. “answer me, princess—or are you too dumb to understand?”

you must have let out a groan or a sound at the very least but you heard him smirk and he spanked your ass, the hot sting of his big palm making you flinch and shudder.

he kept pulling almost fully out before slamming his dick back in and he did it over and over again at a slightly cruel pace until you’re pressing your mouth against the mattress, strings of moans leaving your lips, a tight knot threatening to release in you.

“not yet,” he said, feeling the delicious contraction of your tight cunt. “you won’t until i do too, you understand?”

you nodded helplessly, curling your toes and gripping the bedsheets with your hands as you kept lifting your hips up while he fucked you roughly from behind, his tip painfully hitting your deepest spot making it almost impossible not to cum around his cock.

“fuck, so good—you want my cum, don’t you, pretty girl?” he cooed as he bent forward, his clothed chest pressed against your back, his lips ghosting over your ear to whisper filth.

“answer me.” his tone was firm and you knew his patience was running thin, he wanted to cum. you nodded and among the incoherent babbling, you managed to scream his name. “yes, yes, i want your cum, leon!”

he pressed a wet kiss on your shoulder and grunted. “that’s my girl.” with more sloppy thrusts, he spilled his release in you, ropes of cum painting your womb white, filling it up.

you moaned at the sensation and finally let your own inhibitions go. he rubbed your clit while he thrusted in and out slowly, your hips stuttered in rhythm to your own orgasmic high, spurts of juices squirting on the mattress.

leon pulled out with a pop and your pussy twitched and ached with the emptiness. he put two fingers in, scooping his dripping cum with the tip to push them back in you.

“leon,” you groaned and let your body fall on the mattress completely. his body spooned yours and you both laid there, falling asleep.

a few hours later, you awoke from the sound of a chiming phone. you realised it was leon’s. you slipped out of bed quietly and took his phone out of his pants on the floor then opened the messages.

you smiled and slipped back into bed, wrapping your arms around him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. he grunted but his eyes remained closed, regardless he looked peaceful.

he skipped work after all. maybe you need to thank him properly later.

[moonstruckme]

In a Week - send a character + au and I'll write a blurb for it (like vampire!Eddie, bodyguard!Sirius, etc.)

college au tasm!peter who's a photographer for the college newspaper and reader is a writer?

Thanks for requesting gorgeous!

join the party

photographer!(tasm)Peter Parker x reporter!reader ♡ 761 words

“Peter, these are gorgeous,” you breathe, leafing through the pictures he’s brought you of the protest near campus. “I mean, it’s heartbreaking, and they show that, but they’re so…just, great job.” 

Peter grins, leaning against your desk with a smile that’s half-sheepish, but you can tell he’s proud of his work. He should be. “Thanks,” he says. “Did you already write the article? This is supposed to go out tomorrow, right?” 

You bite your lip. “I did,” you admit, “but now I’m thinking I’ve got some editing to do. There’s so much emotion in these, I feel like you’ve definitely upped the bar for my writing.” You say it as if it’s a joke, but really you mean it, and Peter frowns like he can tell. 

“Your writing’s amazing, and you always kill these kinds of community-minded, emotional stories.” He nudges your chair with his knee, reprimanding. “Don’t sell yourself short. Can I read what you have?”

You hesitate. Letting someone else read your work before it’s finished always feels weirdly vulnerable, even when you’re mostly reporting on facts. You haven’t picked the exact right words yet, phrased your ideas the way that’ll convey them to readers exactly like you want, but Peter’s eyes are soft and warm in the light from your desk lamp, and he always gets what he wants out of you in the end. 

You turn your laptop toward him, letting him scroll freely. 

Peter stoops over your desk, and he nods as he reads, eyes moving quickly over the typed lines. You’re doing your best not to look like you’re watching him, but you grow uneasy when a crease appears between his eyebrows. At first it’s shallow, then not so much. 

“Wow,” Peter breathes as he finishes, looking up at you like you’ve broken his heart. Whatever you’ve done, you’re immediately sorry for it. “That was…shit, you don’t have to worry about missing the mark on emotion. The passion in that, it was incredible, sweetheart.” 

Your heart jumps from your stomach right up to your throat. Sweetheart. 

“You really think so?” you ask, then realize it sounds like you’re fishing for compliments. “I mean, you didn’t think the ending was too abrupt?” 

Peter shakes his head as he straightens, still looking somewhat awed. “No, I don’t think you should change anything. You really made me feel it, you know? It was so powerful.” 

You hope the dim light is hiding the flush you can feel coming to your cheeks. “It’s a powerful topic,” you say, taking back your laptop and skimming over the draft. “You can feel how much the protestors care, from both the interviews and the pictures.” Your finger hesitates above the trackpad. “You don’t think it felt too long, though?” 

Peter makes a scoffing sound, and you look up to find him grinning at you incredulously. “Stop,” he says, shutting your laptop for you carefully. “You know what I think? I think it’s too late to still be here. Your draft is already perfect, you should go home.” 

You frown, glancing out the window. It had gotten dark without you even really noticing. “Yeah, I guess I will,” you concede. “You should, too.” 

“I am,” he says, but doesn’t move. Neither do you, sensing that he has something more he wants to say. Peter fiddles with his backpack strap. “Hey, have you had dinner yet?”

You shake your head. “I’ve been here since just after lunch.” 

“That’s too long,” he laughs. “Would you let me take you for something to eat?”

You all but freeze, looking up at him. He’s as lovely as he always is, hair fluffy from constantly dragging his hand through it and features softened in the lamplight. Your mouth is dry, and still you swallow. “Like…like as friends, or…?” 

Peter’s smile is actually shy. “I was thinking as a date, but only if you want it to be. I don’t want to make things weird, if—”

“No,” you say quickly. “No, a date is good. I’d…I’d like that.” 

Peter grins so hugely that even his eyes get in on the action, creasing at the corners. “Yeah? Nice.” Then you grab your laptop, and those eyes narrow suspiciously. “You’re not going to keep working on that, are you?”

“At dinner? No,” you reassure him, stuffing the computer into your bag. “But after I get home, yeah. I still have some edits I want to make.” 

He exhales, and it’s half exasperation, half amusement. “You’re relentless,” he says, opening the door for you. 

“Like I said, you set a high bar.”